Midnight Cowboy Page #6

JOE:

(slaps bar)

Same all around! For my friend,

too!

The TV screen over the bar features a mating game program as

Jackie cruises down to join a tall farm boy with plucked

eyebrows. The TV HOST points to three young men, visible only

from the shoulders up, from whom a pretty DATE GIRL in

blindfold must choose an escort.

TV HOST:

... and for the losers, who don't

get the girl, we'll give as

consolation prices -- a six month

supply of underarm deodorant...

In a booth now -- the TV screen in the background, continuing

the game -- Joe is refilling Ratso's beer glass as he speaks,

loud over the laughter of the TV audience.

JOE:

... you see what I'm getting at

here? She got a penthouse up there

with color TV and more goddam

diamonds than an archbishop and she

busts out bawling when I ask for

money!

RATSO:

For what?

JOE:

For money.

RATSO:

For money for what?

JOE:

I'm a hustler, hell, didn't you

know that?

RATSO:

How would I know? You gotta tell a

person these things

(shakes his head)

A hustler? Picking up trade on the

street like that -- baby, believe

me -- you need management.

JOE:

I think you just put your finger on

it, I do.

RATSO:

My friend O'Daniel. That's who you

need. Operates the biggest stable

in town. In the whole goddam

metropolitan area. A stud like you

- paying! -- not that I blame you --

a dame starts crying, I cut my

heart for her...

JACKIE'S VOICE

I'd call that a very minor

operation...

Ratso grabs the neck of a bottle, sliding back in the booth.

Joe scowls as Jackie appears with the tall farm boy.

JACKIE:

... in fact, you just sit comfy and

I'll cut it out with my fingernail

file. You won't even need Blue

Cross, Ratso.

RATSO:

The name is Rizzo.

JACKIE:

That's what I said, Ratso.

JOE:

(suddenly)

Hey now, you heard him.

On the TV screen -- the Date Girl announces:

TV DATE GIRL:

I pick Number Two! He's cool!

RATSO:

That's okay, Joe. I'm used to these

types that like to pick on

cripples. Sewers're full of 'em.

JACKIE:

May I ask one thing, cowboy? If you

sit there and he sits way over

there, how's he gonna get his hand

into your pocket? But I'm sure he

has that all figured out...

(to Ratso)

Good night, sweets.

TV HOST:

May present your chosen mate!

The TV host pulls aside the screen which has concealed the

lower half of the three young men. Number Two, her chosen

mate, is a dwarf sitting on a high stool. The girl's

spontaneous dismay starts everyone laughing hysterically,

including the dwarf.

EXT. SIXTH AVENUE - DAY

Joe has difficulty keening up with Ratso, who swings himself

along with surprising agility, his half skipping little gate

favoring one game leg.

RATSO:

Look, with these chicks that want

to buy it, most of 'em are older,

dignified, right? Social register

types. They can't be trotting down

to Times Square to pick out the

merchandise. They need a middleman,

right? That's O'Daniel.

Joe hesitates as Ratso darts into traffic against a red

light, yelling unheard obscenities at a cab driver who blasts

his horn. Joe runs recklessly forward as Ratso slams the taxi

fender with his fist, pretending to be hit, falling into

Joe's arms. The taxi stops, halting traffic. Ratso, recovers,

strolls casually in front of the cab, biting his thumb at the

driver.

RATSO (CONT'D)

It is a crime, a stud like you

passing out double sawbucks to a

chick like that. With proper

management you should be taking

home fifty, a hundred bucks a day.

More if you wanta moonlight...

EXT. SIDEWALK CAFE - COCKTAIL HOUR

At,the corner of Central Park South, Ratso points toward a

young man with diamond cuff-links, sitting with a blue-haired

matron who puffs on a small cigar. Ratso waves jauntily at

the young man, raising his thumb and forefinger in a circle,

leaving the young man baffled as Ratso hurries Joe on.

RATSO:

Him I placed with O'Daniel just two

weeks ago. And look. Not much of a

stud either, what I hear...

EXT. CENTRAL PARK SOUTH - COCKTAIL HOUR

Ratso automatically checks the coin return boxes of the phone

booths they pass. Walking the park side of the street,

looking across at the limousines and taxis waiting outside

luxury hotels and apartment buildings.

JOE:

Hey, listen, how about you take me

to mee this Mister O'Diddle bird

right now?

RATSO:

Well, Joe, you're a nice guy, and

I'd be doing you both a favor, but

why? What'm I dragging my bum leg

all over town for? It's no picnic

and what for, for me myself, what?

Ratso stops opposite the Plaza hotel, pointing across at an

aristocratic blonde stepping out of a Rolls Royce.

RATSO (CONT'D)

Tomorrow when some piece like

that's scratching your back in a

Fifth Avenue townhouse, where'll

your pal Rizzo be? Nedicks.

JOE:

Hold it, just hold it. You think

I'm that kinda sombitch? Just name

your cut, whatever you want, you

got it right now. Five? Ten, how's

that?

Joe peels a ten from his wallet and offers it to Ratso.

RATSO:

Joe, please. You know what I'd ask

anyone else? Oh hell, tell you what

I'll do, I'll take the ten...

(he does)

... but when I hand you over to Mr.

O'Daniel, I'll have to have another

ten, Joe; just to like cover

expenses...

INT. PUBLIC PHONE BOOTH - DUSK

Ratso is on the phone. Joe holds the door open, listening.

RATSO:

This boy is just your meat, Mr.

O'Daniel, believe it, I'm telling

you -- what? -- Enrico Rizzo from

the Bronx. The point is he needs

you. Right now. Tonight...

(aside to Joe)

I got his tongue hanging out...

EXT. WEST SIDE HOTEL - DUSK

Camera moves slowly up the anonymous wall of a drab hotel,

following the line of dim red lights marking the fire exits.

RATSO'S VOICE

Name's Joe Buck. Cowboy. Just in

from Texas, don't know the ropes,

new to the city, but very promising

material, sir, and ready, if you

get what I mean. Fabulous. Right

away. What's that room number there

again?

INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL ELEVATOR - DUSK

As ancient open cage lift rises at the same pace as camera in

preceding shot. Joe grins excitedly at Ratso, who nods but

glances significantly at the elevator operator. Ratso follows

Joe to door as the operator grinds to a stop.

INT. WEST SIDE HOTEL CORRIDOR - DUSK

Ratso steps out with Joe, gesturing to the corridor...

RATSO:

Hold it a second...

... but the operator slams the door and starts on up. Ratso

leans heavily on the down button, glancing at Joe.

RATSO (CONT'D)

Nine-oh-one, got it?

Ratso glances up the elevator shaft nervously, rings again

and turns back to Joe.

RATSO (CONT'D)

Let's see how you look. Fine. You

look fine. Now I'm gonna have to

have that other ten...

JOE:

(digs in wallet)

Ten, ten -- I got a twenty -- take

that...

RATSO:

Oh hell, forget it.

JOE:

Now take it. Go on.

(gives it to him)

Listen, where can I reach you?

Cause I'm gonna make this right

with you soon's I get me set up...

RATSO:

Forget it.

JOE:

I mean, dammit, where you live?

Ratso leans on the DOWN as the cage grinds slowly down into

view and stops.

RATSO:

Sherry-Netherlands Hotel. Now get

your ass in there. He's waiting!

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