Mr. Smith Goes To Washington Page #6

Hubert stares at this headline, then suddenly, wildly, dashes

for the door.

The scene dissolves to a STREET, at night: a row of simple,

white-frame houses with neatly kept front years and white

picket fences. Street lamps illumine the scene. A limousine

has come to a stop before one HOUSE, JEFFERSON SMITH'S, and

Governor Hubert Hopper is alighting. He pauses to look at

the house, is uncertain for an instant as to whether to go

in or not; then makes up his mind, pushes through the gate

and goes up the walk.

At the DOOR, Hubert pauses again before knocking, but finally

does so. As his knuckles rap on the door, a terrific blast

of band music, blaring instruments badly played. lets go

from inside the house. Hubert, startled out of his wits,

turns to run for his life and makes two steps when the door

is opened; and there stands a smallish, somewhat gray, sweet-

faced little lady (Jeff's Ma). The music goes on, so that

both have to raise their voices above it.

MA:

I *thought* I heard... Yes?

HUBERT:

Uh--Jefferson Smith's residence?

MA:

Yes. Come in.

HUBERT:

Is--uh--Jefferson Smith at home?

MA:

Certainly. Step right in.

In the SITTING ROOM of the Smith Home, a neat, cozy room,

there are about twenty kids, ranging from nine to fifteen,

imitating a band. An older boy is leading them. They are of

all descriptions of dress; some in poor clothes--one with

his leg in a brace. Hubert edges into the room dumbfounded.

MA:

(loudly above the

music)

I'll call Jeff. He's back in the

shop--

She starts across the room. Hubert remains, disconcerted by

the music. Suddenly, he looks off into the adjoining room

with curious interest--and also to escape the music, he moves

toward it.

The adjoining room the Hubert enters is an OFFICE. It contains

everything from a roll-top desk crammed with mail, to a small

power printing press--to short-wave radio equipment. It is a

beehive of activity, with some eight or ten boys working

like the seven dwarfs--printing cards on the press--tying

copies of "Boy Stuff" into bundles--tinkering with the short-

wave set. Hubert is set back on his heels by this unexpected

sight. He notes the little placards framed on the wall,

bearing the words of great men, and such admonitions as:

"When there's an edge--give it to the other fellow." "When a

man dies he clutches in his hands only that which he has

given away during his lifetime--" --Jean Jacques Rousseau.

"No man is good enough to govern another."--Abraham Lincoln.

"You've got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your

grandfather was." He notes the boys working at the radio--

others working at the desk--while all the time, the little

power press goes on. Suddenly Ma returns, followed by

Jefferson Smith--fine looking, rangy, youthful--at the moment

wiping some white substance from his right hand.

JEFFERSON:

Good evening, sir. I was just making

some--

(Then, astoundedly)

Governor Hopper!

MA:

Well--I'll go to Halifax!

Suddenly great excitement ensues.

JEFFERSON:

Boys! Attention! Governor Hopper!

The little fellows drop what they are doing and come to

attention while Jeff dives for a chair and whips it around.

HUBERT:

Now--now--please--that's quite all

right. Relax, boys--

JEFFERSON:

(at attention)

This--this is a great honor, sir. I--

I--

HUBERT:

Not at all. I've come to pay you a

personal and official--and I might

say--a *tardy* tribute, Mr. Smith,

for your recent heroic conduct.

JEFFERSON:

Oh, now, I'm afraid that's been

exaggerated some--

HUBERT:

No. No. A signal service to the State.

Yes, indeed. And not only that but--

uh--I've heard of your excellent

work in leading and guiding our youth--

JEFFERSON:

Well--that's not work, sir--that's

fun.

HUBERT:

No doubt. No doubt. And this fine

little paper--"Boy Stuff"--with, I

dare say, an *enormous* circulation

in the State.

MA:

Well--it started with a little

mimeograph sheet--and it's just grown

out of all sense and reason--

HUBERT:

Excellent! Excellent! My boy, I'm

convinced our State has a great debt

of gratitude to you--

JEFFERSON:

Oh, now--

MA:

Jefferson--

JEFFERSON:

Yes, Ma?

MA:

Excuse me for interrupting, Governor,

but--

(To Jeff)

--that plaster's gonna harden any

second, son.

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