The Grapes of Wrath Page #22

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OUTSIDE THE JOAD TENT the men are looking in the direction

of the group. They start to walk toward it.

AT THE GROUP OF MEN: The agent, wearing a flat-brimmed Stetson

and with his pockets filled with pencils and dog-eared

booklets, looks down at the silent men. All of the men in

the camp are approaching slowly, silently. The women give

their anxious attention in the background. Among the men who

walk up is FLOYD, a grimly disappointed young man.

AGENT:

You men want to work?

PA:

Sure we wanta work. Where's it at?

AGENT:

Tulare County. Fruit's opening up.

Need a lot of pickers.

FLOYD:

You doin' the hirin'?

AGENT:

Well, I'm contracting the land.

FIRST MAN:

Whay you payin?

AGENT:

Well, can't tell exactly, yet. 'Bout

thirty cents, I guess.

FIRST MAN:

Why can't you tell? You took the

contrac', didn' you?

AGENT:

That's true. But it's keyed to the

price. Might be a little more, might

be a little less.

FLOYD:

(quietly)

All right, mister. I'll go. You just

show your license to contrack, an'

then you make out a order--where an'

when an' how much you gonna pay--an'

you sign it an' we'll go.

AGENT:

(ominously)

You trying to tell me how to run my

own business?

FLOYD:

'F we're workin' for you, it's our

business too. An' how do we know--

(pulling out a handbill)

--you ain't one a the guys that sent

these things out?

AGENT:

(tough)

Listen, Smart Guy. I'll run my

business my own way. I got work. If

you wanta take it, okay. If not,

just sit here, that's all.

The squatting men have risen one by one. Their faces are

expressionless because they simply don't know when one of

these calls is genuine or when it isn't. Floyd addresses

them.

FLOYD:

Twicet now I've fell for that line.

Maybe he needs a thousan' men. So he

get's five thousan' there, an' he'll

pay fifteen cents a hour. An' you

guys'll have to take it 'cause you'll

be hungry.

(Facing the agent)

'F he wants to hire men, let him

write it out an' say what he's gonna

pay. Ast to see his license. He ain't

allowed by law to contrack men without

a license.

AGENT:

(turning)

Joe!

The other man gets out of the COUPE. He wears riding breeches

and laced boots, carries a pistol and cartridge belt, and

there is a deputy sheriff's star on his brown shirt. He smiles

thinly and shifts his pistol holster as he starts toward the

group. THE MEN are watching the deputy approach.

FLOYD:

(angrily)

You see? If this guy was on the level,

would he bring a cop along?

DEPUTY:

(entering)

What's the trouble?

AGENT:

(pointing at Floyd)

Ever see this guy before?

DEPUTY:

What'd he do?

AGENT:

He's agitatin'.

DEPUTY:

Hmmm.

(Giving Floyd a looking

over)

Seems like I have. Seems like I seen

him hangin' around that used car lot

that was busted into. Yep, I'd swear

it's the same fella.

(Sharply)

Get in that car.

TOM:

You got nothin' on him.

DEPUTY:

Open your trap again and you'll go

too.

AGENT:

(to the men)

You fellas don't wanta lissen to

troublemakers. You better pack up

an' come on to Tulare County.

The men say nothing.

DEPUTY:

Might be a good idea to do what he

says. Too many of you Okies aroun'

here already. Folks beginnin' to

figger it ain't maybe *safe*. Might

start a epidemic or sump'n.

(After a pause)

Wouldn't like a bunch a guys down

here with pick handles tonight, would

you?

As the agent gets into the coupe FLOYD'S thumbs hook over

his belt and he looks off, away. TOM'S look away is an answer.

His thumbs also hook over his belt.

DEPUTY:

(to Floyd)

Now, you.

He takes hold of Floyd's left arm. At the same time Floyd

swings, smacks him in the face. As the deputy staggers, Tom

sticks out a foot and trips him. Floyd is already running

through the camp. The deputy fires from the ground. There is

a scream. A WOMAN is looking down at her hand, the knuckles

shot away.

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