Mr. Smith Goes To Washington Page #4

TAYLOR:

*Your* political future! I bought it

for you and made you a present. And

I can grab it back so fast it'll

make your head spin. You got a nerve

to stand there and worry about just

*your future* when we're in this

spot!

(Starting for the

door)

The man is--*Miller*.

MCGANN:

(following Taylor;

adds dryly)

M-i-double l-e-r.

The two are gone, leaving Happy very unhappy. He stands for

a baleful instant. The butler appears.

BUTLER:

Mr. Edwards of the Citizen's Committee

on the phone, sir.

HUBERT:

(groaning)

No! I'm out. I'm sick. I--I--

(Collapsing)

I'll talk.

He picks up the phone.

HUBERT:

(brightening his manner)

*Good* evening, Mr. Edwards... Why,

I have the matter under advisement

this very moment. Now it isn't a

question of my *objecting* to Henry

Hill--

BY A PHONE, Edwards is seen to be in considerable heat.

EDWARDS:

(into the phone)

Hill is the man every decent element

wants--and *expects!* It's Henry

Hill, Mr. Governor--or else!

In the GOVERNOR'S LIBRARY, Hubert is seen wincing.

HUBERT:

(swallowing)

Yes, Mr. Edwards. Certainly. I shall

bear that in mind. Good night.

He hangs up, a picture of deepening misery, as Emma appears

at the door.

EMMA:

Dinner, Hubert.

HUBERT:

(absently)

I'll bear that in mind... What? Oh.

Dinner. Pet--my stomach couldn't

hold a bird seed.

EMMA:

(leaving)

We're waiting, Hubert.

The scene dissolves to the DINING ROOM. The Hopper family is

seated at dinner. Six children are around the table--four

boys ranging from nine to sixteen, and a couple of in-between

girls. The butler is placing the soup before them.

HUBERT:

Really, my dear--I don't feel like a

thing.

EMMA:

(over-riding him)

Nonsense.

PETER:

("Number Two" son)

What's the matter, Dad? Is it getting

you down?

HUBERT:

Is *what* getting me down?

JIMMIE:

("Number One" son)

You're in a deuce of a pickle, aren't

you, Pop?

OTIS:

("Number Three" son)

Looks like Henry Hill--huh, Pop?

PETER:

Naw--it's Horace Miller--or else!

Hubert chokes on his soup.

JIMMIE:

Gee, I wouldn't appoint an old twerp

like Horace Miller--Taylor or no

Taylor!

HUBERT:

Taylor! May I ask what *Taylor* has

to do with it?

JIMMIE:

Well, he's still running the show,

ain't he, Dad?

HUBERT:

Emma! I will not have conversations

of this sort carried on by the

children at dinner!

EMMA:

Nonsense. Why don't you listen to

your children for a change? You might

actually learn something?

HUBERT:

(with sarcasm)

For instance, how to run the affairs

of government? No doubt my children

could make this appointment *for* me--

with the greatest ease!

JIMMIE:

That's easy. Jefferson Smith.

HUBERT:

I beg your pardon?

PETER:

Jeff Smith. He's the only Senator to

have.

OTIS:

Sure. He ought to be President.

LITTLE JACKIE:

("Number Four" son)

I like Jeff Smith.

HUBERT:

You, too! Fine. Fine. That's everybody

heard from. Forgive my abysmal

ignorance--but I don't know Jefferson

Smith from a--

PETER:

Gosh, Pop--head of the Boy Rangers!

HUBERT:

Oh, a *boy*!

JIMMY:

No, *no*, Pop--Jeff's a *man*! Jeff

Smith! Biggest expert we got on wild

game--and animals--and rocks.

PETER:

Yes, and right now he's the greatest

hero we ever had. It's all over the

headlines--

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