The Grapes of Wrath Page #32

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TOM:

Any gas?

AL:

Gallon or two?

TOM:

(whistling)

Well, looks like we done it this

time awright!

ROSASHARN:

(standing in truck)

Tommy.

(Pointing)

Some smoke up there.

All look. Tom climbs on the running board the better to see.

TOM:

Looks like about a mile. Reckon she'll

make it?

AL:

She got to make it.

MA:

(as they get back in)

What is it?

TOM:

Don't know--but it's better'n this.

As Al starts the truck, the scene dissolves to a weather-

beaten wooden sign: "PERMANENT CAMP NO. 9" "DEPT. OF

AGRICULTURE"

We see the GATE TO THE GOVERNMENT CAMP, a wide gate in a

high wire fence, with a caretaker's shack to one side of the

gate. The caretaker stands beside his shack as the Joad truck

swings off the road, hits an unnoticed rut that bounces the

whole truck off the ground, and stops.

CARETAKER:

(mildly)

You hit 'er too fast.

In the FRONT SEAT Al leans angrily out of the driver's window.

Tom is keeping his face away from the caretaker's line of

vision.

AL:

What's the idea of that?

CARETAKER:

(chuckling)

Well, a lot a kids play in here. You

tell folks to go slow and they liable

to forget. But let 'em hit that hump

once and they don't forget!

Al starts climbing out. Pa jumps down from the truck.

AL:

Got any room here for us?

CARETAKER:

(nodding)

You're lucky. Fellow just moved out

half-hour ago.

(Pointing)

Down that line and turn to the left.

You'll see it. You'll be in No. 4

Sanitary Unit.

MA:

What's that?

CARETAKER:

Toilet and showers and washtubs.

MA:

You mean you got *washtubs?* An'

runnin' water?

CARETAKER:

Yes, ma'am.

(To Al)

Camp committee'll call on you in the

morning and get you fixed.

AL:

(quickly)

Cops?

CARETAKER:

No. No cops. Folks here elect their

own cops.

(To Ma)

The ladies' committee'll call on

you, ma'am, about the kids and the

sanitary unit and who takes care of

'em.

(To Al)

Come inside and sign up.

As Ma, Pa, and Al look at each other in almost incredulous

bewilderment, Tom climbs out of the truck.

TOM:

Take 'er on down, Al. I'll sign.

PA:

We gonna stay, ain't we?

TOM:

You're tootin' we're gonna stay.

(He follows the

caretaker into the

shack)

INSIDE THE SHACK, Tom enters warily, alert for any indication

that either his name or his scar may have been learned and

telegraphed here. But the caretaker obviously attaches no

significance to either. The shack is bare but for a cot, a

table, a chair, and an electric light. The caretaker is seated

at the table, pen in hand, a soiled ledger open, when Tom

enters.

CARETAKER:

I don't mean to be nosy, y'understand.

I just got to have certain

information. What's your name?

TOM:

(watching him)

Joad. Tom Joad.

CARETAKER:

(writing)

How many of you?

THE JOAD TRUCK is seen in front of its camp site as the Joads

descend.

AL:

How 'bout it, Uncle John? Gotta pitch

this tent.

JOHN:

(groggy with sleep)

I'm a-comin'.

MA:

You don't look so good.

JOHN:

I *ain't* so good, but--I'm a-comin'.

INSIDE THE CARETAKER'S SHACK:

CARETAKER:

Camp site costs a dollar a week, but

you can work it out, carrying garbage,

keeping the camp clean--stuff like

that.

TOM:

We'll work it out. What's this

committee you talkin' about?

CARETAKER:

We got five sanitary units. Each one

elects a central committee man. They

make the laws, an' what they say

goes.

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