The Grapes of Wrath Page #12

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AL:

(grinning)

Ain't you gonna look back, Ma?--give

the ol' place a last look?

MA:

(coldly shaking her

head)

We're goin' to California, ain't we?

Awright then, let's *go* to

California.

AL:

(sobering)

That don't sound like you, Ma. You

never was like that before.

MA:

I never had my house pushed over

before. I never had my fambly stuck

out on the road. I never had to

lose... ever'thing I had in life.

She continues to stare straight ahead. The TRUCK is lumbering

up onto a paved highway.

The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: Almost filling the screen

is the shield marker of the U.S. Highway 66. Superimposed on

it is a montage of jalopies, steaming and rattling and piled

high with goods and people, as they pull onto the highway,

to indicate as much as possible that this departure of the

Joad family is but part of a mass movement of jalopies and

families. The signs of towns on U.S. Highway 66 flash past--

CHECOTAH, OKLAHOMA CITY, BETHANY.

This dissolves to a HIGHWAY. It is late afternoon. The Joad

truck pulls of the paved highway and stops. The men leap

down quickly from the truck, all but Pa, who lifts Grampa in

his arms and then lowers him slowly, gently into Tom's arms.

In TOM'S arms Grampa is whimpering feebly.

GRAMPA:

*Ain't* a-goin'... ain't a-goin'...

TOM:

'S all right, Grampa. You just kind

a tar'd, that's all. Somebody fix a

pallet.

With a quilt pulled from the truck Ma runs ahead as Tom

carries Grampa toward a clump of woods back off the highway.

The others get down soberly from the truck, all but Granma,

who is dozing. Cars pass-a fast car passing a jalopy. Tom is

letting the old man down gently as Ma adjusts the quilt on

the ground. Death is in Grampa's eyes as he looks up dimly

at them.

GRAMPA:

(a whisper)

Thas it, jus' tar'd thas all... jus'

tar'd...

(He closes his eyes)

The scene dissolves to an insert of a NOTE. It is written

awkwardly in pencil on the flyleaf of a Bible. Tom's voice

recites the words.

TOM'S VOICE

This here is William James Joad,

dyed of a stroke, old old man. His

folkes bured him becaws they got no

money to pay for funerls. Nobody

kilt him. Jus a stroke an he dyed.

A GRAVE, at night. In the clump of woods, lighted by two

lanterns, The Joad tribe stands reverently around an open

grave. Having read the note, Tom puts it in a small fruit

jar and kneels down and, reaching into the grave, places it

on Grampa's body.

TOM:

I figger best we leave something

like this on him, lest somebody dig

him up and make out he been kilt.

(Reaching into the

grave)

Lotta times looks like the gov'ment

got more interest in a dead man than

a live one.

PA:

Not be so lonesome, either, knowin'

his name is there with 'im, not just'

a old fella lonesome underground.

TOM:

(straightening up)

Casy, won't you say a few words?

CASY:

I ain't no more a preacher, you know.

TOM:

We know. But ain't none of our folks

ever been buried without a few words.

CASY:

(after a pause)

I'll say 'em--an' make it short.

(All bow and close

eyes)

This here ol' man jus' lived a life

an' jus' died out of it. I don't

know whether he was good or bad, an'

it don't matter much. Heard a fella

say a poem once, an' he says, "All

that lives is holy." But I wouldn't

pray for jus' a ol' man that's dead,

because he's awright. If I was to

pray I'd pray for the folks that's

alive an' don't know which way to

turn. Grampa here, he ain't got no

more trouble like that. He's got his

job all cut out for 'im--so cover

'im up and let 'im get to it.

OMNES:

Amen.

The scene fades out.

HIGHWAY 66, in daylight, fades in: an Oklahoma stretch,

revealing a number of jalopies rattling westward. The Joad

truck approaches.

In the FRONT SEAT OF THE TRUCK Tom is now driving. Granma is

dozing again, and Ma is looking thoughtfully ahead.

MA:

Tommy.

TOMMY:

What is it, Ma?

MA:

Wasn't that the state line we just

passed?

TOM:

(after a pause)

Yes'm, that was it.

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