Mr. Smith Goes To Washington Page #23

Jeff stop struggling.

NOSEY:

(from under a table)

Meet Senator Smith, boys.

They pile off Jeff--who sits up slowly, looking the worse

for wear. His pugnacity is gone, and he is calm, hurt and

bitter.

SWEENEY:

You act like a man with something on

your mind--

FLOOD:

What's the idea--charging in like

that on the gentlemen of the Press--

?

JEFFERSON:

(bitterly)

*Gentlemen*! Gentlemen are supposed

to believe in something decent.

Instead of twisting facts and making

a joke of everything--why don't you

tell the people the *truth* for a

change?

VOICES:

The truth!

Well, the man wants the truth!

"What *is* truth?" asked so-and-so,

and turned away!

JEFFERSON:

That's what I said--the *truth*!

SWEENEY:

How'll you have it--dished out--or

in a bottle?

DIZ:

Well, if that's what you want, Senator--

sit down--. We'll see what we can

do.

JEFFERSON:

There isn't a chance I'd find it

here!

SUMMERS:

No?

FLOOD:

Why--*truth* is the *business* of a

few of us correspondents, Senator--

FARRELL:

Leaving out the Noseys, of course--

JEFFERSON:

Yes? And the people of this country

pick up their papers--and what do

they read?

DIZ:

Well--*this morning* they read that

an incompetent clown arrived in

Washington parading like a member of

the Senate--

Jeff makes a leap for Diz.

JEFFERSON:

Why, you--!

The men are on him and push him back.

VOICES:

Whoa!

Hold it!

Pipe down!

Come on, now--that's enough of that.

JEFFERSON:

(yelling)

If you thought as much of being honest--

as you do of being smart--!

DIZ:

Honest! Why, we're the only ones who

can *afford* to be honest about what

*we* tell the voters. We don't have

to be re-elected, like politicians--

VOICES:

Hear! Hear!

SWEENEY:

For instance, we tell 'em when the

phonies, crackpots and hillbillies

come here to make their laws--

FARRELL:

And if it's the *truth* you want--

what are *you* doing in the Senate?

FLOOD:

What do *you* know about laws--and

making laws--and what the people

need?

JEFFERSON:

(tormentedly blurting)

I--I don't *pretend* to know!

DIZ:

Then what are you doing in the Senate?

SWEENEY:

What's he *doing*? Why--*honorary*

appointment!

SUMMERS:

Sure! *I* see! When the country needs

men up there who *know* and have

courage--like it never did before--

he's just going to decorate a chair

and get himself *honored*--!

FARRELL:

Oh, but he'll *vote*! Sure. Like his

colleague tells him--

DIZ:

Yes, *sir*--like a Christmas tiger.

He'll nod his head and vote 'yes'.

You're not a Senator! You're an

honorary *stooge*! And should be

showed up!

FLOOD:

Have a drink, Senator!

As the last crack hits, Jeff gets to his feet like a shot,

as if ready to kill. The men stand firm and Jeff stops dead.

He glares around; they stare back in contempt. Jeff's anger

flows away. He finally says quietly:

JEFFERSON:

(after a pause)

Good day--gentlemen.

And he starts grimly for the door--the men falling aside

quietly to let him through.

The scene dissolves to PAINE'S LIVING ROOM, with JEFFERSON

speaking tensely to PAINE.

JEFFERSON:

I mean, sir--if I'm going to stay in

the Senate--I ought to know what I'm

doing--at least, I ought to try to

study the Bills that are coming up--

PAINE:

The *Bills*? Jeff--let me advise you--

as your father would--politics is a

business--sometimes a cruel business.

In your time here, you couldn't even

start on those Bills. They're put

together by legal minds--after a

long study. Why, after twenty years,

I can't understand half of them

myself. No, really, Jeff--in your

own interests--

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