The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean Page #3

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- considering that...

- No, sir.

What goes for my town goes for me.

Justice goes for all.

Justice is the handmaiden of the law.

- I was only trying to make amends.

- Amends!

What you have done to these...

gentle damsels...

I accuse you, sir,

of leading them down the primrose path.

Making them slaves

to passion and the dollar.

$5.

- $3.

- $2.50.

For you, Judge, nothing.

Get those ladies down

from that traveling bordello...

and put them on the porch. You, sir.

Get out of my way.

That's it, come to me. I'll catch you.

I ain't going to sentence you, boy,

but I am going to warn you...

if you ain't out of here in five minutes,

I will open court.

- I haven't even got a horse.

- Steal one! A fast one!

Remember, we hang horse thieves

around here.

Spread out, ladies.

I didn't mean that.

What do you want

to do with them, Judge?

Just bear witness.

Bart, come here.

Fermel.

Right there. Right there.

Whorehouse, come here.

Right there.

- Tector.

- Yes, sir?

- Come on out here.

- No, not me, Judge. I'm a benedict.

What about me, Judge?

Over here.

Ladies...

I intend to steer you back

to the path of righteousness.

I hereby sentence you to one year...

under protective custody of my marshals.

Bar's open! Drinks are on the house!

I think, my dear...

that you are

a case for special consideration.

I hereby declare you a ward of the court.

A pig!

I likewise advise you to find a fast horse.

Hold it!

- All right, let's go inside.

- The Judge can handle it.

- Where you going?

- I am going for a walk.

Smell how sweet that air is.

It's almost tropical, that's what it is.

In the desert at night,

in the moonlight, it smells like...

it could be a teeming jungle...

in Africa or India or the like.

And it makes me dream about this land.

What I'm going to make of it.

Someday it's going to be covered...

with farms and towns.

There's going to be a railroad.

Streets...

covered with brick.

Buildings made of stone, 100 feet high.

There will be factories

and slaughterhouses...

like I seen in those pictures

of Denver and Chicago.

And I am going to have a courthouse

made of granite, four stories high...

so I can look down

and see that everything is going to plan.

And you can have anything you want.

You just think of anything you want.

A box that makes songs.

What?

A box that you open, it makes songs.

- Music box.

- S.

I would get you a pipe organ.

- What songs would you want it to play?

- Any songs.

You ever hear the Yellow Rose of Texas?

No, why?

You should have.

How does it go?

Sing more.

No, I can't sing.

It's cold in that shack where you live,

ain't it?

It's all right in the summer.

Yeah, but it's cold in the winter

and it leaks in the rain, don't it?

Sometimes.

And the wind comes through.

Only when it's blowing.

Yeah, it is summer and the sky is clear,

there's no wind.

You should spend the night

in the courthouse so I can protect you...

from the elements.

What are you doing there

in the middle of nowhere, digging a hole?

A grave.

When that wheel come off the wagon,

I took it for a sign.

- This here's my dying ground.

- Where you coming from?

Lived in the mountains mostly.

I was a mountain man.

Knew Jim Bridger, Kit Carson,

Liver Eatin' Johnson.

He was a good feller when he started.

But things get to him.

Went bad after a few winters.

Yeah, a man will do that.

What's your name, mister?

I'm Grizzly Adams,

direct descendant of John Quincy Adams...

sixth President of the United States.

His blood is in me.

I went wild as a youth,

ran away to the mountains.

Good life, free life, but cold.

So cold I'd go to the bears,

lie with them in their cave.

That's why I'm known as Grizzly.

I cohabitated with the bears.

What are you doing in Vinegarroon?

All my life, I've been cold.

- I come south to die where it's warm.

- It's warm here.

There'll be no illegal dying.

The only people that die in my town

are those that I shoot or hang.

Get along with you.

Can't die here! Can't die there! Man

can't even die where he sees fit no more!

I want no part

of what this world's come to.

I'm glad my days are at an end.

That's Zachary Taylor, my oldest boy...

named after the 12th President

of the United States.

I prefer his company to that of men.

Pick up that wheel and move on.

Or I'll have you both strung up

for disturbing the peace.

Hurry up, mister,

this bear ain't getting any lighter.

How about adopting him, mister?

He'll need someone after I'm gone

to love and be loved by in return.

Send him back to his mother.

She run off with another bear

from Colorado.

What do you think you're doing?

Come on back here and pick up your bear!

- Good heavens.

- Give Zach a good home, mister.

Or sure as hell,

I'll come back and haunt you.

There now. Good bear.

Go on, run for it. You can't bluff me.

- Go on back to your father!

- Run, Judge!

Okay, stay where you are, damn it!

- Come on, Judge, he's a monster!

- Nasty bear. You want to make friends?

Go on!

Get in there now. Go on.

Go to bed and lie down, you hear me?

I don't know which one he was talking to.

But either way

it must've been one hell of a night.

The Watch Bear

moved right into the household.

The Judge and him and Marie Elena

were inseparable.

The three of them

used to go picnicking together.

Dearest Lillie:

It was with fondest enthusiasm

that I received your letter this morning.

It was delivered to me while in court.

I dared not open it...

for fear that it would cause

me to reel in dazed ecstasy...

and forget the grave responsibilities

of my position.

We're ready, Judge.

Therefore I placed it

in a pocket over my heart...

where it has remained warm until now.

I don't want to hurry you,

but the horse is getting nervous.

Quiet, you damn fool.

Can't you see the Judge is reading a letter

from Miss Langtry? Come on.

Dear Mr. Bean:
On behalf of Miss Langtry...

I wish to thank you

for your correspondence...

of April, March, February,

and January, 1895.

Miss Langtry is presently engaged

in a tour of the Continent...

and will make every effort to review it

at her soonest possible convenience.

Most warmly yours, Dorothy P. Pilsbury...

personal secretary to Miss Lillie Langtry.

Any last words?

- We already said that.

- All right, give me back my cigar.

Carry out the sentence.

Could you lower...

the deceased a little bit?

He's not in the picture.

Lower him.

That's fine, right there.

All right, everybody.

The only real attempt to question

the authority of the Judge's court...

occurred the time Bad Bob came to town.

Not Dirty Bad Bob, the New Mexican...

but the original Bad Bob,

the mean one, the albino.

Bad Bob's in town!

Bad Bob's in town!

Wait, I'll go with you.

Bad Bob's in town!

- Hey, you!

- Help me!

Don't you ever question what I say.

I think you shot off my toe.

It'd be the second one

over from the big one.

You go tell that snake-scum judge...

that I intend to burn his eyes out

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