Nixon Page #11

An entire LONGHORN STEER turns on a spit in a large

barbecue pit, basted by black SERVANTS. We see a sprawling

Spanish-style RANCH HOUSE in the countryside. The parking

area looks like a Cadillac dealership. The CROWD is a

mixture of CORPORATE EXECUTIVES, CUBANS, and COWBOY-TYPES,

some WIVES.

TRINI is talking to TWO of the DANCERS, nodding his head in

NIXON'S direction. They look, and smile at him.

Across the lawn, Nixon smiles back awkwardly as JACK JONES

nudges him. They both eat steaks and corncobs.

JONES:

I know for a fact that the one with

the big tits is a Republican, and

she'd do anything for the Party.

NIXON:

She's quite pretty.

JONES:

Her name's Sandy ...

Trini joins them, bringing the girls.

NIXON:

By the way, Jack, this looks like a

pretty straight-forward transaction to

me, but we should get into it soon --

just take a few minutes, maybe up at

the house ...

JONES:

(to Trini, coming up)

He's all business, ain't he, Trini?

(to Dick)

Dick, we could've had our own goddamn

lawyers handle this deal. We brought

you down here 'cause we wanted to talk

to you ...

TRINI:

Dick, this is Teresa, and this is

Sandy.

TERESA:

Hi ... Dick.

SANDY:

Hi.

NIXON:

Hello ...

Pause.

INT. JONES RANCH - DAY

A walk-in stone fireplace dominates the room; the heavy

beams hung with black wrought-iron candelabras. Thick

cigar smoke impregnates the air; the crowd has

substantially thinned to the heaviest hitters. The MEN,

now in shirt-sleeves, drink from bottles of bourbon.

A man -- MITCH -- emerges from one of the side rooms with a

DANCER.

Off to the side in a semi-private alcove, SANDY, the

dancer, tries to make conversation, but NIXON is showing

her pictures of his kids.

NIXON:

That's Julie ... and that's Tricia.

She, uh, reminds me a little bit of

you ...

SANDY:

("interested")

Oh yeah ... she really is ...

wholesome.

Trini interjects, trying to help out.

TRINI:

So what's up? ... Uh, I get the

feeling Sandy really likes you, Dick.

SANDY:

I like that name, Dick.

TRINI:

Why don't you two disappear in the

bedroom in there. Come back in half

an hour ...

NIXON:

Uh ... Trini.

Trini smiles and, leaving Dick the playing field, vanishes.

Sandy, feeling the vacuum, holds Nixon's hand.

SANDY:

What do you say? Do you like me,

Mister Vice President?

Nixon swallows hard, blushing now. He sweats, very

uncomfortable with this intimacy.

NIXON:

(croaks)

Yes, of course. But ... uh ...

A brief IMAGE flashes by -- beastlike, offensive, unworthy.

NIXON (CONT'D)

... I don't really know you yet, Sandy

... What do you like? I mean, what

kind of clothes do you like? Do you

like blue ... red?

SANDY:

Oh, I like satin, I like pink ...

NIXON:

What kind of, uh ... music do you

like?

SANDY:

I like jazz ...

NIXON:

Yeah ... Guy Lombardo ...

SANDY:

Elvis I like, too.

NIXON:

Oh yeah, he's good.

Sandy puts her hands on his face and head.

SANDY:

... but it depends on what I'm doing

to the music, Dick ...

NIXON:

Uh, is your mother ... still alive?

SANDY:

Yeah, she lives in Dallas ...

NIXON:

She must be very attractive. Would

she like an autograph? She might

remember me ... Where's Trini?

Looking around desperately.

TIME CUT TO:

INT. JONES RANCH - DAY

Later. The crowd has thinned further to a hard-core dozen.

The last man -- Mitch -- comes from the inner bedrooms,

zipping up, the Servants chasing out the straggling girls.

Another round of drinks is served. The cigars are out.

JONES:

Hell, Kennedy's pissed Cuba away to

the Russians. And he don't know what

the hell he's doing in Vietnam. These

are dangerous times, Dick, especially

for business ...

NIXON:

Agreed.

A CUBAN in an Italian suit, one part sleazy, another part

dangerous, steps from the shadows.

CUBAN:

We know what you tried to do for Cuba,

Mr. Nixon. If you'd been elected

president in '60, we know Castro'd be

dead by now.

NIXON shares a look with TRINI.

NIXON:

Gentlemen, I tried. I told Kennedy to

go into Cuba. He heard me and he made

his decision. I appreciate your

sentiments. I've heard them from many

fine Cuban patriots, but it's nothing

I can do anything about. Now, it's a

long drive back to Dallas tonight, and

Trini and I have got an early flight

tomorrow to New York ...

JONES:

(interrupting)

Dick, these boys want you to run.

(the "boys" mutter in unison)

They're serious. They can deliver the

South and they can put Texas in your

column. That would've done it in '60.

NIXON:

Only if Kennedy dumps Johnson.

JONES:

That sonofabitch Kennedy is coming

back down here tomorrow. Dick, we're

willing to put up a shitpot fulla

money to get rid of him -- more

money'n you ever dreamed of.

NIXON:

Nobody's gonna beat Kennedy in '64

with all the money in the world.

A beat.

CUBAN:

Suppose Kennedy don't run in '64?

Nixon looks at him. A subconscious IMAGE again --

something slimy, reptilian.

NIXON:

Not a chance.

CUBAN:

These are dangerous times, Mr. Nixon.

Anything can happen.

Another pause. Nixon gathers together his papers and

briefcase.

NIXON:

Yes, well ... Gentlemen, I promised my

wife. I'm out of politics.

MITCH:

(insolent smile)

You just came down here for the

weather, right, Mr. Nixon?

NIXON:

I came down here to close a deal for

Studebaker.

TRINI:

What about '68, Dick?

NIXON:

Five years, Trini? In politics,

that's an eternity.

JONES:

Your country needs you, Dick.

Nixon shakes his hand, departs.

NIXON:

Unfortunately, my country isn't

available right now.

EXT. LOVE FIELD - DAY (1963)

A CROWD is waiting for Air Force One. People hold banners,

signs:
"Dallas Loves JFK," "We Love You Jackie."

A Cadillac pulls up at the far corner of the tarmac. NIXON

gets out with CARDOZA. They walk toward a small executive

PLANE.

Nixon pauses, looks up. He feels something ominous in the

air.

NIXON:

Trini, let's get out of here fast. Go

check on the pilot, or they'll hold us

up till he's out of the airport.

As Trini hurries off to the plane, Nixon takes one last

look up at his fate written in the soft white clouds over

Dallas. As we:

CUT TO:

DOCUMENTARY:

JOHN KENNEDY coming off the plane at Love Field with

JACKIE, waving to the crowd. The sound of a rushing,

monstrous engine. Then wind.

CUT TO:

INT. NIXON'S FIFTH AVENUE APARTMENT - STUDY - DAY (1963)

NIXON sits, subdued, in an armchair in a small study,

caught between the fire in the grate, the TELEVISION images

of the assassination, and the phone call he's on.

NIXON:

(low-key)

Look, Edgar, these guys were really

strange, I mean, y'know ...

extremists, right-wing stuff, Birchers

... Yeah?

Nixon listens for several beats. PAT, smoking nervously,

watches from another chair. Newspapers are strewn all

around.

DOCUMENTARY IMAGES on the TV show a grieving JACKIE, BOBBY,

TEDDY and the TWO CHILDREN.

NIXON (CONT'D)

I see ... Oswald's got a Cuba

connection ... to Castro? I see. A

real Communist. That makes sense.

Thank you, Edgar.

He hangs up. It's evident he's still puzzled, but wants to

believe.

NIXON (CONT'D)

Hoover says this Oswald checks out as

a beatnik-type, a real bum, pro-Castro

...

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote