"THE GRAPES OF WRATH" Screenplay by Nunnally Johnson Based on the Novel "The Grapes Of Wrath" By John Steinbeck AN OKLAHOMA PAVED HIGHWAY in daylight. At some distance, hoofing down the highway, comes Tom Joad. He wears a new stiff suit of clothes, ill-fitting, and a stiff new cap, which he gradually manages to break down into something comfortable. He comes down the left side of the road, the better to watch the cars that pass him. As he approaches, the scene changes to a roadside short-order RESTAURANT on the right side of the road. From it comes the sound of a phonograph playing a 1939 popular song. In front of the eatery is a huge Diesel truck labeled: OKLAHOMA CITY TRANSPORT COMPANY. The driver, a heavy man with army breeches and high- laced boots, comes out of the restaurant, the screen door slamming behind him. He is chewing on a toothpick. A waitress appears at the door, behind the screen. WAITRESS When you be back? DRIVER Couple a weeks. Don't do nothin' you wouldn't want me to hear about! We see him climbing into the cab of the truck from the right side. Getting behind the wheel, he is releasing the handbrake when Tom appears at the driver's seat window. TOM How about a lift, mister? DRIVER Can't you see that sticker? He indicates a "No Riders" sticker on the windshield. TOM Sure I see it. But a good guy don't pay no attention to what some heel makes him stick on his truck. After a moment of hesitation the driver releases the brake. DRIVER Scrunch down on the running board till we get around the bend. As Tom scrunches down on the running board the driver throws the truck into gear and it moves. The scene dissolves to the CAB OF THE TRUCK. It is day, and Tom is seated beside the driver, who is surreptitiously eyeing him, trying to confirm some suspicion--an inspection which Tom ignores at first. DRIVER Goin' far? TOM (shaking his head) Just a few miles. I'd a walked her if my dogs wasn't pooped out. DRIVER Lookin' for a job? TOM No, my old man got a place, forty acres. He's a sharecropper, but we been there a long time. DRIVER (after a curious glance) Oh! Cautiously, the driver's eyes drop to Tom's feet. We see TOM'S SHOES. They are prison shoes--new, stiff and bulky. Curiosity is in the eyes of the DRIVER as they shoot a swift glance at Tom. TOM is looking straight ahead, with the dead- pan look that prisoners get when they are trying to conceal something. The DRIVER'S eyes take in Tom's hands and the stiff coat. DRIVER Been doin' a job? TOM Yeah. DRIVER I seen your hands. You been swinging a pick or a sledge--that shines up your hands. I notice little things like that all the time. (After a pause) Got a trade? TOM (evenly) Why don't you get to it, buddy? DRIVER (uneasily) Get to what? TOM You know what I mean. You been givin' me a goin' over ever since I got in. Whyn't you go on and ask me where I been? DRIVER I don't stick my nose in nobody's business. TOM Naw--not much! DRIVER (a little frightened) I stay in my own yard. TOM (without emotion) Listen. That big nose of yours been goin' over me like a sheep in a vegetable patch. But I ain't keepin' it a secret. I been in the penitentiary. Been there four years. Like to know anything else? DRIVER You ain't got to get sore. TOM (coldly) Go ahead. Ask me anything you want. DRIVER I didn't mean nothing. TOM Me neither. I'm just tryin' to get along without shovin' anybody around, that's all. (After a pause) See that road up ahead? DRIVER Yeah. TOM That's where I get off. With a sigh of relief the driver puts his foot on the brake. The TRUCK stops and Tom gets out. He look at the uneasy driver contemptuously. TOM You're about to bust to know what I done, ain't you? Well, I ain't a guy to let you down. (Confidentially) Homicide! The driver throws the truck into gear. He doesn't like this at all. DRIVER I never asked you! TOM (as the truck moves away) Sure, but you'd a throwed a fit if I hadn't tol' you. He looks indifferently after the truck and then starts on foot down the dirt crossroad. A wind has begun to blow. The scene dissolves to the roadside under a WILLOW TREE in daylight. The wind is still blowing. Sitting on the ground, his back against the tree, Casy, a long, lean man in overalls, blue shirt, and one sneaker, is fixing something on the other dirty sneaker. To the tune of "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby" he is absent-mindedly singing. CASY Mmmmm he's my saviour. Mmmmm my saviour, Mmmmmmmmmm my saviour now. (Looking up as Tom comes down the road) Howdy, friend. Carrying his coat under his arm, TOM wipes his face with his cap as he cuts off the road to acknowledge the greeting. TOM Howdy. He stops, grateful for the momentary relief of the shade. CASY Say, ain't you young Tom Joad--ol' Tom's boy? TOM (surprised) Yeah. On my way home now. CASY Well, I do declare! (Grinning) I baptized you, son. TOM (staring) Why, you're the preacher! CASY *Used* to be. Not no more. I lost the call. (Reminiscently) But boy, I sure *used* to have it! I'd get an irrigation ditch so squirmin' full of repented sinners I pretty near *drowned* half of 'em! (Sighing) But not no more. I lost the sperit. TOM (with a grin) Pa always said you was never cut out to be a preacher. CASY I got nothin' to preach about no more--that's all. I ain't so sure o' things. TOM Maybe you should a got yourself a wife. CASY (shakes his head sadly) At my meetin's I used to get the girls glory-shoutin' till they about passed out. Then, I'd go to comfort 'em--and always end up by lovin' 'em. I'd feel bad, an' pray, an' pray, but it didn't do no good. Next time, do it again. I figgered there just wasn't no hope for me. TOM I never let one go by me when I could catch her. CASY But you wasn't a preacher. A girl was just a girl to you. But to me they was holy vessels. I was savin' their souls. (Fervently) I ast myself--what *is* this call, the Holy Sperit? Maybe *that's* love. Why, I love everybody so much I'm fit to bust sometimes! So maybe there ain't no sin an' there ain't no virtue. There's just what people do. Some things folks do is nice, and some ain't so nice. But that's as far as any man's got a right to say. TOM (after a moment, figuring there is no percentage in continuing this philosophical discussion, pulls out a flask, which he extends) Have a little snort? CASY (holding the flask) Course I'll say grace if somebody sets out the food-- (shaking his head) --but my heart ain't in it. (He takes a long pull) Nice drinkin' liquor. TOM Ought to be. That's fact'ry liquor. Cost me a buck. CASY (handing back the flask) Been out travelin' around? TOM Didn't you hear? It was in the papers. CASY No, I never. What? TOM I been in the penitentiary for four years. (He drinks) CASY Excuse me for asking. TOM I don't mind any more. I'd do what I done again. I killed a guy at a dance. We was drunk. He got a knife in me and I laid him out with a shovel. Knocked his head plumb to squash. CASY And you ain't ashamed? TOM (shaking his head) He had a knife in me. That's why they only gave me seven years. Got out in four--parole. CASY Ain't you seen your folks since then? TOM (putting on his coat) No, but I aim to before sundown. Gettin' kind of excited about it, too. Which way you going? CASY (putting on his sneaker) It don't matter. Ever since I lost the sperit it looks like I just as soon go one way as the other. (Rising) I'll go your way. They pause at the edge of the shade, squint up at the sky, and then move off. The scene dissolves to the SURFACE OF A DIRT ROAD by daylight. Leaves are scuttling across it. The top soil begins to fly up. It is not a hard wind as yet, but it is steady and persistent. Tom's and Casy's feet walk into sight. TOM Maybe Ma'll have pork for supper. I ain't had pork but four times in four years--every Christmas. CASY I'll be glad to see you pa. Last time I seen him was at a baptizin', an' he had one a the bigges' doses of the Holy Sperit I ever seen. He go to jumpin' over bushes, howlin' like a dog-wolf in moon-time. Fin'ly he picks hisself out a bush big as a piana an' he let out a squawk an' took a run at that bush. Well, sir, he cleared her but he bust his leg snap in two. They was a travellin' dentist there and he set her, an' I give her a prayin' over, but they wasn't no more Holy Sperit in your pa after that. TOM (worriedly) Lissen. This wind's fixin't to *do* somepin'! CASY Shore it is. It always is, this time a year. Tom, holding his cap on his head with his hand, looks up... The TOPS OF THE TREES are bending before the wind. TOM AND CASY continue walking. CASY Is it fur? TOM (still looking back) Just around that next bend. TOM AND CASY are almost being blown along and dust is rising from the road. CASY (lifting his voice above the wind) Your granma was a great one, too. The third time she got religion she go it so powerful she knocked down a full-growed deacon with her fist. TOM (pointing ahead) That's our place. The JOAD CABIN is an ancient, bleak, sway-backed building. There is neither sign of life or habitation about it. CASY (looking back) And it ain't any too close, either! We better run! A DUST STORM, like a black wall, rises into the sky, moving forward. TOM AND CASY are running, but looking back over their shoulders as the DUST STORM nears. Dust rises from the ground to join and thicken the black wall. TOM AND CASY are seen racing down the road to the cabin, the wind whipping up the dust. The two men smack open the door and slam it shut after them. The screen begins to grow dark as the storm sweeps over the land. It becomes black. In THE CABIN, it is black too, but the sound is different. In addition to the sound of the wind there is the soft hissing of sand against the house. TOM'S VOICE Ma?... Pa?... Ain't nobody here? (After a long silence) Somepin's happened. CASY'S VOICE You got a match? TOM'S VOICE There was some pieces of candle always on a shelf. Presently, after shuffling about, he has found them and lights one. He holds it up, lighting the room. A couple of wooden boxes are on the floor, a few miserable discarded things, and that's all. Tom's eyes are bewildered. TOM They're all gone--or dead. CASY They never wrote you nothing? TOM No. They wasn't people to write. From the floor he picks up a woman's high button shoe, curled up at the toe and broken over the instep. TOM This was Ma's. Had 'em for years. Dropping the shoe, he picks up a battered felt hat. TOM This used to be mine. I give it to Grampa when I went away. (To Casy) You reckon they could be dead? CASY I never heard nothin' about it. Dropping the hat, he moves with the candle toward the door to the back, the only other room of the cabin. He stands in the doorway, holding the candle high. In the BACK ROOM the scene moves from Tom at the door across the room to the shadows, where a skinny little man sits motionless, wide-eyed, staring at Tom. His name is Muley. MULEY Tommy? TOM (entering) Muley! Where's my folks, Muley? MULEY (dully) They gone. TOM (irritated) I know that! But *where* they gone? Muley does not reply. He is looking up at Casy as he enters. TOM (to Casy) This is Muley Graves. (To Muley) You remember the preacher, don't you? CASY I ain't no preacher anymore. TOM (impatiently) All right, you remember the *man* then. MULEY AND CASY Glad to see you again. Glad to see you. TOM (angrily) Now where is my folks? MULEY Gone-- (hastily) --over to your Uncle John's. The whole crowd of 'em, two weeks ago. But they can't stay there either, because John's got *his* notice to get off. TOM (bewildered) But what's happened? How come they got to get off? We been here fifty years--same place. MULEY Ever'body got to get off. Ever'body leavin', goin' to California. My folks, your folks, ever'body's folks. (After a pause) Ever'body but me. I ain't gettin' off. TOM But who done it? MULEY Listen! (Impatiently Tom listens to the storm) That's some of what done it--the dusters. Started it, anyway. Blowin' like this, year after year--blowin' the land away, blowin' the crops away, blowin' us away now. TOM (angrily) Are you crazy? MULEY (simply) Some say I am. (After a pause) You want to hear what happened? TOM That's what I asked you, ain't it? MULEY is seen at close range. Not actually crazy, Muley is a little touched. His eyes rove upward as he listens to the sound of the storm, the sough of the wind and the soft hiss of the sand. Then... MULEY The way it happens--the way it happened to me--the man come one day... The scene dissolves to MULEY'S DOORYARD. It is a soft spring day, with the peaceful sounds of the country. Seated in a three-year-old touring car is THE MAN, a city man with a collar and tie. He hates to do what he is doing and this makes him gruff and curt, to hide his misgivings. Squatted beside the car are Muley, his son-in-law, and a half-grown son. At a respectful distance stand Muley's wife, his daughter, with a baby in her arms, and a small barefooted girl, watching worriedly. The men soberly trace marks on the ground with small sticks. A hound dog sniffs at the automobile wheels. THE MAN Fact of the matter, Muley, after what them dusters done to the land, the tenant system don't work no more. It don't even break even, much less show a profit. One man on a tractor can handle twelve or fourteen of these places. You just pay him a wage and take *all* the crop. MULEY But we couldn't *do* on any less'n what our share is now. (Looking around) The chillun ain't gettin' enough to eat as it is, and they're so ragged we'd be shamed if ever'body else's chillun wasn't the same way. THE MAN (irritably) I can't help that. All I know is I got my orders. They told me to tell you you got to get off, and that's what I'm telling you. Muley stands in anger. The two younger men pattern after him. MULEY You mean get off my own land? THE MAN Now don't go blaming me. It ain't *my* fault. SON Whose fault is it? THE MAN You know who owns the land--the Shawnee Land and Cattle Company. MULEY Who's the Shawnee Land and Cattle Comp'ny? THE MAN It ain't nobody. It's a company. SON They got a pres'dent, ain't they? They got somebody that knows what a shotgun's for, ain't they? THE MAN But it ain't *his* fault, because the *bank* tells him what to do. SON (angrily) All right. Where's the bank? THE MAN (fretfully) Tulsa. But what's the use of picking on him? He ain't anything but the manager, and half crazy hisself, trying to keep up with his orders from the east! MULEY (bewildered) Then who *do* we shoot? THE MAN (stepping on the starter) Brother, I don't know. If I did I'd tell you. But I just don't know *who's* to blame! MULEY (angrily) Well, I'm right here to tell you, mister, ain't *nobody* going to push me off *my* land! Grampa took up this land seventy years ago. My pa was born here. We was *all* born on it, and some of us got killed on it, and some died on it. And that's what makes it ourn--bein' born on it, and workin' it, and dyin' on it--and not no piece of paper with writin' on it! So just come on and try to push me off! The scene dissolves to the BACK ROOM. The sound of the storm is heard again as Tom and Casy watch Muley. TOM (angrily) Well? MULEY (without emotion) They come. They come and pushed me off. We see MULEY at close range. MULEY They come with the cats. TOM'S VOICE The what? MULEY The cats--the caterpillar tractors. The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE OF TRACTORS: tractors looming over hillocks, flattening fences, through gullies, their drivers looking like robots, with goggles, dust masks over mouth and nose--one after the other, crossing and recrossing as if to convey the impression that this was an invasion of machine-men from some other world. MULEY'S VOICE And for ever' one of 'em ten-fifteen families gets throwed outa their homes--one hundred folks with no place to live but on the road. The Rances, the Perrys, the Peterses, the Joadses--one after another they got throwed out. Half the folks you and me know--throwed right out into the road. The one that got me come a month ago. The scene dissolves to MULEY'S FARM. We see the backs of Muley and the two younger men standing shoulder to shoulder watching a lumbering tractor headed straight toward them. It is at some distance. Muley holds a shotgun. His son has a baling hook. The son-in-law has a two-by-four. Behind them is their cabin. Frightened and huddled together are the women and children. The roar of the tractor comes closer. MULEY (shouting) You come any closer and I'm gonna blow you right outa that cat! (He lifts his shotgun) The TRACTOR continues to lumber along, its driver goggled and black of face where his dust mask doesn't cover. MULEY lifts his shotgun to his shoulder, and aims. MULEY I *tol'* you! The TRACTOR stops. The driver takes off his goggles and dust mask. Like the others he's a country boy. His face is sullen. Muley is lowering his shotgun. There is a surprise in his face as he recognizes the driver. MULEY Why, you're Joe Davis's boy! He moves forward, followed by his son and son-in-law in the TRACTOR. Davis is wiping his face as they walk toward him. DAVIS I don't like nobody drawin' a bead on me. MULEY Then what are you doin' this kind a thing for--against your own people? DAVIS For three dollars a day, that's what I'm doin' it for. I got two little kids. I got a wife and my wife's mother. Them people got to eat. Fust and on'y thing I got to think about is my own folks. What happens to other folks is their lookout. MULEY But this is *my land*, son. Don't you understand? DAVIS (putting his goggles back on) *Used* to be your land. B'longs to the comp'ny now. We see THE WOMENFOLKS. A small girl pulls her mother's dress. GIRL What's he fixin' to do, ma? MA Hush! Back to the TRACTOR AND THE MEN: MULEY (grimly) Have it your own way, son, but just as sure as you touch my house with that cat I'm gonna blow you plumb to kingdom come. DAVIS (contemptuously) You ain't gonna blow nobody nowhere. First place, you'd get hung and you know it. For another, it wouldn't be two days before they'd have another guy here to take my place. And the tractor roars into slow motion again... We see the HOUSE AND TRACTOR. The womenfolks scamper out of the way as the tractor heads for a corner of the house. It goes over a ramshackle fence and then a feeble little flower bed. Muley and the two younger men walk along. Breathing hard, frightened and desperate, Muley is shouting warnings at Davis, but the roar of the tractor drowns his voice. The dog barks excitedly, snarling at the tractor. THE WOMENFOLKS stand watching, terrified but dead pan, until a cry bursts from Muley's wife. WIFE Don't! Please don't! The little girl begins to whimper. MULEY I'm tellin' you! The TRACTOR moves across the yard, nosing a chair out of the way, and with a rending of boards hits a corner of the house, knocking a part of the foundation away. The corner of the house sinks. MULEY lifts his shotgun, aims it, holds it, and then slowly lowers it. As he stands looking at what has happened his shoulders sag. He seems almost to shrink. The scene dissolves to MULEY, once more in the back room of Tom's old home, as the sound of the storm continues. MULEY (dully) What was the use. He was right. There wasn't a thing in the world I could do about it. TOM (bewildered) But it don't seem possible--kicked off like that! MULEY The rest of my fambly set out for the west--there wasn't nothin' to eat--but I couldn't leave. Somepin' wouldn't let me. So now I just wander around. Sleep wherever I am. I used to tell myself I was lookin' out for things, so when they come back ever'thing would be all right. But I knowed that wan't true. There ain't nothin' to look out for. And ain't nobody comin' back. They're gone-- and me, I'm just an 'ol graveyard ghost--that's all in the world I am. Tom rises in his agitation and bewilderment. MULEY You think I'm touched. CASY (sympathetically) No. You're lonely--but you ain't touched. MULEY It don't matter. If I'm touched, I'm touched, and that's all there is to it. TOM (still unable to grasp it all) What I can't understand is my folks takin' it! Like ma! I seen her nearly beat a peddler to death with a live chicken. She aimed to go for him with an ax she had in the other hand but she got mixed up and forgot which hand was which and when she got through with that peddler all she had left was two chicken legs. He looks down at Muley. MULEY Just a plain 'ol graveyard ghost, that's all. His eyes are dull on the floor. The sound of the dust storm continues strongly. The scene dissolves to the EXTERIOR OF THE CABIN at night. It is several hours later and the sound of the storm has faded out. Now all is silence as first Tom, then Casy, and finally Muley steps out of the cabin and looks around. There is still a slight fog of dust in the air, and clouds of powderlike dust shoot up around their feet. All three men have wet rags tied over their mouths and noses. TOM She's settlin'. CASY What you figger to do? TOM It's hard to say. Stay here till mornin' an' then go on over to Uncle John's, I reckon. After that I don't know. MULEY (grabbing Tom) Listen! (Faint sound of motor) That's them! Them lights! Come on, we got to hide out! TOM (angrily) Hide out for what? We ain't doin' nothin'. MULEY (terrified) You're *trespassin'*! It ain't you lan' no more! An' that's the supr'tendant--with a gun! CASY Come on, Tom. You're on parole. A CAR approaches at some distance, the headlights moving up and down as the car rides a dirt road. A PART OF THE COTTON FIELD: Muley leads the way. MULEY All you got to do is lay down an' watch. TOM (as they lie down) Won't they come out here? MULEY (snickering) I don't think so. One come out here once an' I clipped him from behin' with a fence stake. They ain't bothered since. THE EXTERIOR OF THE CABIN: The car stops. A strong searchlight flashes on and goes over the cabin. MAN (in car) Muley? (After a pause) He ain't here. The car moves on. TOM, CASY AND MULEY lie flat, listening to the sound of the car going away. TOM Anybody ever 'tol me I'd be hidin' out on my own place...! He whistles, as the scene fades out. DRIED CORNSTALKS, seen by daylight, fade in. The cornstalks, their roots blown clean and clear of the earth, lie fallen in one direction. This is what has happened to farms that were once rich and green. Then Uncle John's cabin comes into view. It is just after sunup. The air is filled with country sounds--a shrill chorus of birds, a dog barking in the distance. The cabin is of the same general appearance as the Joad cabin but even smaller. Smoke curls from the chimney. We see a PLATTER ON A TABLE, inside the cabin. The platter is filled with sidemeat. Over the scene comes Ma Joad's voice. MA'S VOICE Lord, make us thankful for what we are about to receive, for His sake. Amen. As she speaks, a man's scrawny hand reaches forward and sneaks out a piece of sidemeat. Five people are seated around the breakfast table on chairs or boxes. They are Pa, Grampa, Granma, Noah, and Uncle John. Two children, Ruthie and Winfield, stand to the table, because there are no more chairs. Their heads are all bent as Ma, standing with a fork in her hand between the table and the stove, ends the grace. Heads lift and there is a bustle as Ma turns back to the frying pork on the stove and the others truck into their food. Granma points a spiteful finger at Grampa. GRANMA I seen you!--You et durin' grace! GRAMPA (indignantly) One little ole dab!--one teeny little ole dab! RUTHIE AND WINFIELD, though they are shoveling it in, are grinning at Grampa. RUTHIE (in a snickering whisper to Winfield) Ain't he messy though! GRANMA (viciously) I seen him!--gobblin' away like an ole pig! GRAMPA Whyn't you keep your eyes shet durin' grace, you ole... NOAH is solemnly studying a handbill. Over his shoulder the HANDBILL can be read: "800 PICKERS WANTED--WORK IN CALIFORNIA" We see NOAH AND UNCLE JOHN. NOAH (who is a half-wit) What's it say again? JOHN Says plenty work in California-- peaches. Eight hundred pickers needed. Noah frowns at the print. GRAMPA (who has mush on his mouth) Wait'll I get to California! Gonna reach up and pick me an orange whenever I want it! Or grapes. That there's somethin' I ain't *never* had enough of! Gonna get me a whole bunch a grapes off a bush and I'm gonna squash 'em all over my face and just let the juice dreen down offen my chin! GRANMA (in a feeble bleat) Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory! GRAMPA (expanding) Maybe I get me a whole *washtub* fulla them grapes and jest sit in 'em and scrooge around till they was gone! (Sighing) I shore would like to do that! RUTHIE AND WINFIELD are snickering. Ruthie has smeared her face with mush. She pulls Winfield around to see. RUTHIE (whispering) Look. I'm Grampa! She begins to slobber in mimicry. Winfield snickers. At that instant Ma enters, unobserved, and without a word give Ruthie a fine wallop. Nobody else pays any attention to the slap as Ma, a bucket in her hand, moves on toward the door. We see her now in the BACKYARD, first at the door, then moving toward the well. She stops dead still, her eyes gazing outward. TOM is looking at the household goods piled around the yard, to be taken to California. Casy is in the background. Then Tom looks up and see Ma (out of the scene). His face softens. He moves toward her. MA (softly--her eyes closed) Thank God. Oh thank God. (In sudden terror as he approaches) Tommy, you didn't *bust* out, didya? You ain't got to hide, have you? TOM No, Ma. I'm paroled. I got my papers. With a sigh and a smile, and her eyes full of wonder, she feels his arm. Her fingers touch his cheek, as if she were blind. Swelling with emotion, Tom bites his lip to control himself. MA I was so scared we was goin' away without you--and we'd never see each other again. TOM I'd a found you, Ma. CASY, with great politeness, turns his back to the scene and keeps well away from it. TOM now looks around at the dusty furniture piled around the yard. TOM Muley tol' me what happened, Ma. Are we goin' to California true? MA We *got* to, Tommy. But that's gonna be awright. I seen the han'bills, about how much work they is, an' high wages, too. But I gotta fin' out somepin' else first, Tommy. (Breathlessly) Did they hurt you, son? Did they hurt you an' make you mean-mad? TOM (puzzled) Mad, Ma? MA Sometimes they do. TOM (gently) No, Ma I was at first--but not no more. MA (not yet quite convinced) Sometimes they do somethin' to you, Tommy. They hurt you--and you get mad--and then you get mean--and they hurt you again--and you get meaner, and meaner--till you ain't no boy or no man any more, but just a walkin' chunk a mean-mad. Did they hurt you like that, Tommy? TOM (grinning) No, Ma. You don't have to worry about that. MA Thank God. I--I don't want no mean son (She loves him with her eyes) At the DOOR, Pa is staring toward them, his mouth open. PA (almost to himself) It's Tommy! (Then shouting inside) It's Tommy back! (Heading for Tom) What'd you do, son--bust out? INSIDE UNCLE JOHN'S CABIN, all but Granma are staring toward the door. Then all but Granma scramble to their feet, headed for the door. WINFIELD AND RUTHIE (in an excited chant) Tom's outa ja-ul! Tom's outa ja-ul! GRAMPA I knowed it! Couldn't keep him in! Can't keep a Joad in! I knowed it from the fust! The children and Grampa scramble out first, followed hurriedly but less rowdily by Uncle John and Noah. Granma, aware only that there is some excitement, looks interestedly after them but decides against any activity. GRANMA (vaguely) Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory! (she resumes eating) In the BACKYARD, the prodigal son, mother and father proudly beside him, is having his hand wrung by Grampa, who vainly tries to button various buttons of his shirt, as always. The two children jump up and down excitedly but are too shy to force themselves into the reception. GRAMPA (to Pa) You know what I al'ays said: "Tom'll come bustin' outa that jail like a bull through a corral fence." Can't keep no Joad in jail! TOM (grinning) I didn't bust out. They lemme out. Howya, Noah. Howya, Uncle John. NOAH AND JOHN Fine, Tommy. Glad to see you. GRAMPA (to anybody) I was the same way myself. Put me in jail and I'd bust right out. Couldn't hold me! As Tom chucks the two children under the chin, the rattling roar of a jalopy causes all to turn to look. NOAH (confidentially) Bust out? TOM (shaking his head) Parole. The roar increases. A home-built TRUCK comes around the corner of the house. Once a Hudson sedan, the top has been cut in two and a truck body constructed. It is driven now by Al, and on the front seat with him are Rosasharn and Connie. The arrival, as the truck moves into the yard, increases the excitement, and the scene is a little incoherent with the talking and shouting and the noise of the jalopy. AL AND ROSASHARN Hi, Tom! Howya doin'? TOM (surprised and pleased) Rosasharn! Hi, Rosasharn! Howya, Al! GRAMPA (wildly) The jailbird's back! The jailbird's back! OMNES Hi, Ma! Hi, Connie! Hiya, Grampa! PA (to Tom) That's Connie Rivers with her. They're married now. (Confidentially) She's due about three-four months. TOM (marveling) Why, she wasn't no more'n a kid when I went up. AL (eagerly as he jumps down) You bust outa jail, Tom? TOM (patiently) Naw. They paroled me. AL (let down) Oh. ROSASHARN Heh'o Tom. (Proudly) This is Connie, my husband. TOM (shaking hands) If this don't beat all! (Chuckling) Well, I see you been busy already! ROSASHARN (gasping) You do not see either!--not yet! At the whoop of laughter that goes up from all, she turns in a fine simulation of maidenly mortification, and throws herself into Connie's arms, hiding her face against his chest. After a moment of surprise, a slow, happy, fatuous grin begins to broaden his face. He beams, whereupon their delight increases, the men roaring and jeering and slapping their legs, the women making modest efforts to suppress their amusement. OMNES Lookut his face! Y'see his face? Lookut Rosasharn! Y'ever see anything like her face when Tom said it? Look around, Rosasharn! Let's see it again! An automobile horn sounds sharply. Their laughter halted as though cut by a knife, they look off. A TOURING CAR has stopped in the road by the house, the engine still running. One man drives, the other talks. MAN Hey, Joad! John Joad! In the BACKYARD the people are silent, their faces without expression, as all gaze toward the touring car. MAN Ain't forgot, have you? JOHN We ain't forgot. MAN Comin' through here tomorrow, you know. JOHN I know. We be out. We be out by sunup. The touring car's engine is still heard after the men drive off. The Joads watch the car, their heads turning, their eyes following, expressionless. The scene dissolves to the BACKYARD just before dawn. Now and then a rooster crows. A couple of lanterns light the scene as the man load the truck. It is nearly done, the body piled high but flat with boxes, and more tied on running boards. Al has the hood open and is working on the motor. Noah, Casy, Uncle John, Connie, Pa, and Tom are at various tasks. They talk as they work. TOM (to Pa) How you get all this money? PA Sol' things, chopped cotton--even Grampa. Got us about two hunnerd dollars all tol'. Shucked out seventy- five for this truck, but we still got nearly a hunnerd and fifty to set out on. I figger we oughta be able to make it on that. TOM (dryly) Easy. After all, they ain't but about *twelve* of us, is they? AL (proudly closing the hood) She'll prob'ly ride like a bull calf-- but she'll ride! PA Reckon we better begin roustin' 'em out if we aim to get outa here by daylight. How about it, John? How you boys comin'? (He casts a critical eye over the truck) INSIDE THE CABIN, Ma sits on a box in front of the stove. The fire door is open and the light shines out. The room itself has been pretty well stripped, with only trash and discarded things left. In Ma's lap is a pasteboard shoebox and she is going through the meager treasures stored in it, to see what must go and what she can take with her. Her eyes are soft and thoughtful as each item brings a memory, but not sad. Occasionally she smiles faintly. She pulls out a letter, looks at it, starts to throw it into the fire, then puts it back in the box. Her hand pulls out a PICTURE POSTCARD. We see it in Ma's hand. It is a picture of the Statue Of Liberty. Over it: "Greetings from New York City." She turns it over. It is addressed: "Mrs. Joad RFD 254 Oklahomy Territory." In the space for a message: "Hello honey. Willy Mae." MA, after a moment of studying it, throws the card into the fire. She lifts the letter again, puts it back. She pulls out a worn NEWSPAPER CLIPPING. We see it in Ma's hand. The headline is: "JOAD GETS SEVEN YEARS." MA drops the clipping into the fire. Rummaging around, she pulls out a small CHINA DOG. We see it closely as before. On it is printed: "Souvenir of Louisiana Purchase Exposition-- St. Louis--1904." MA studies the dog, smiling, remembering something that it meant in her life. Then she puts in in a pocket in her dress. Next she pulls out some pieces of cheap jewelry; one cuff link, a baby's signet ring, two earrings. She smiles at the ring, then pockets it. The cuff link too. The earrings she holds for a moment longer, then looks around to make sure nobody sees, then holds them to her ears, not looking into any kind of a mirror, just feeling them against the lobes of her ears, as once perhaps she wore them. Her eyes are grave. TOM (from the door) How about it, Ma? MA I'm ready. Tom disappears. Ma looks at the earrings, and then at the contents of the box. She lifts out the letter again and looks at it. Then, without drama, she drops it into the fire. She watches it burn. Her eyes are still on the flame as she calls. MA Rosasharn honey! Wake up the chillun. We're fixin' to leave. The flame dies down. In the BACKYARD it is grey dawn. There is a thrill of quiet excitement as they all stand around the loaded truck, hats on, putting on coats. The ones missing are Ma, Rosasharn, the children, and Grampa. Pa is in charge. PA (as Ma comes out of the cabin) Where's Grampa? Al, go git him. GRANMA (trying to climb in the front seat) I'm gonna sit up front! Somebody he'p me! Tom easily lifts her up the step. The two children come running out of the house, chanting. RUTHIE AND WINFIELD Goin' to California! Goin' to California! PA You kids climb up first, on top. (all obey as he directs) Al's gonna drive, Ma. You sit up there with him and Granma and we'll swap around later. GRANMA I ain't gonna sit with Grampa! PA Connie, you he'p Rosasharn up there alongside Ruthie and Winfiel'. (Looking around) Where's Grampa? GRANMA (with a cackle) Where he al'ays is, prob'ly! PA Well, leave him a place, but Noah, you and John, y'all kinda find yourself a place--kinda keep it even all around. All have obeyed and are aboard but Pa, Tom, and Casy, who is watching the springs flatten out. TOM Think she'll hold? CASY If she does it'll be a miracle outa Scripture. GRAMPA'S VOICE Lemmo go, gol dang it! Lemmo go, I tell you! All turn. In a CORNER OF THE HOUSE Al is pulling Grampa gently but firmly, the old man holding back, and furious. He flails feebly at Al, who holds his head out of the way without effort. AL He wasn't sleepin'. He was settin' out back a the barn. They's somepin' wrong with him. GRAMPA Ef you don't let me go-- Al permits Grampa to jerk loose and sit down on the doorstep. The old man is miserable and frightened and angry, too old to understand or accept such a violent change in his life. Tom and Pa come up to him. The others watch solemnly from their places in the truck. TOM What's the matter, Grampa? GRAMPA (dully, sullenly) Ain't nothin' the matter. I just ain't a-goin', that's all. PA What you mean you ain't goin'? We *got* to go. We got no place to stay. GRAMPA I ain't talkin' about you, I'm talkin' about me. And I'm a-stayin'. I give her a good goin' over all night long-- and I'm a-stayin'. PA But you can't *do* that, Grampa. This here land is goin' under the tractor. We *all* got to git out. GRAMPA All but me! I'm a-stayin'. TOM How 'bout Granma? GRAMPA (fiercely) Take her with you! MA (getting out of the truck) But who'd cook for you? How'd you live? GRAMPA Muley's livin', ain't he? And I'm *twicet* the man Muley is! PA (on his knee) Now listen, Grampa. Listen to me, just a minute. GRAMPA (grimly) And I ain't gonna listen either. I tol' you what I'm gonna do. (Angrily) And I don't give a hoot in a hollow if they's oranges and grapes crowdin' a fella outa bed even, I ain't a- goin' to California! (Picking up some dirt) This here's my country. I b'long *here*. (Looking at the dirt) It ain't no good-- (after a pause) --but it's mine. TOM (after a silence) Ma. Pa. (They move toward the cabin with him) Grampa, his eyes hurt and hunted and frightened and bewildered, scratches in the dirt. GRAMPA (loudly) And can't nobody *make* me go, either! Ain't nobody here *man* enough to make me! I'm a-stayin'. All watch him worriedly. INSIDE THE CABIN: TOM Either we got to tie him up and *throw* him on the truck, or somepin. He can't stay here. PA Can't tie him. Either we'll hurt him or he'll git so mad he'll hurt his self. (After thought) Reckon we could git him *drunk*? TOM Ain't no whisky, is they? MA Wait. There's a half a bottle a soothin' sirup here. (In the trash in the corner) It put the chillun to sleep. TOM (tasting it) Don't taste bad. MA (looking in the pot) And they's some coffee here. I could fix him a cup... TOM That's right. And douse some in it. PA (watching) Better give him a good 'un. He's awful bull-headed. Ma is already pouring coffee into a can as GRAMPA is seen. GRAMPA (mumbling defiantly) If Muley can scrabble along, I can do it too. (Suddenly sniffing) I smell spareribs. Somebody been eatin' spareribs? How come I ain't got some? MA (from the door) Got some saved for you, Grampa. Got 'em warmin' now. Here's a cuppa coffee. GRAMPA (taking the cup) Awright, but get me some a them spareribs, too. Get me a whole mess of 'em. I'm hongry. He drinks the coffee. Pa and Tom watch him. He notices nothing. He takes another dram of the coffee. GRAMPA (amiably) I shore do like spareribs. He drinks again. The scene dissolves to the TRUCK. It is just after dawn. Pa, Tom, and Noah are lifting Grampa into the truck. He mumbles angrily, but is unconscious of what is happening. PA (fretfully) Easy, *easy!* You wanta bust his head wide open? Pull his arms, John. GRAMPA (mumbling) Ain't a-goin', thas all... PA Put somepin' over him, so he won't git sun-struck. (Looking around) Ever'body set now? (A chorus of responses) Awright, Al, letta go! The engine rattles and roars shakily. Grinning with excitement, Pa sits down and pats Grampa clumsily. PA You be awright, Grampa. The truck starts to move heavily. Casy stands watching it. CASY Good-by, an' good luck. PA Hey, wait! Hold 'er, Al! (The car stops) Ain't you goin' with us? CASY (after a pause) I'd like to. There's somethin' happenin' out there in the wes' an' I'd like to try to learn what it is. If you feel you got the room... He stops politely. Pa looks from one face to the other in the truck--a swift, silent canvass--and though no one speaks or gives any other sign, Pa knows that the vote is yes. PA (heartily) Come on, get on, plenty room! OMNES Sure, come on, Casy, plenty room! Quickly he climbs aboard. The truck rattles into motion again. PA (excitedly) Here we go! TOM (grinning) California, here we come! As they all look back the deserted CABIN is seen from the departing truck. Now we see the FAMILY IN THE TRUCK, as it snorts and rattles toward the road--a study of facial expressions as the Joad family look back for the last time at their home. Connie and Rosasharn, whispering, giggling, and slappings, are oblivious of the event. Ruthie and Winfield are trembling with excitement. But Tom's and Pa's smiles have disappeared, and all the men are gazing back thoughtfully and soberly, their minds occupied with the solemnity of this great adventure. In the FRONT SEAT OF THE TRUCK. Al is driving. Granma is already dozing. Ma looks steadily ahead. 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. MA Your pa tol' me you didn't ought to cross it if you're paroled. Says they'll send you up again. TOM Forget it, Ma. I got her figgered out. Long as I keep outa trouble, ain't nobody gonna say a thing. All I gotta do is keep my nose clean. MA (worriedly) Maybe they got crimes in California we don't know about. Crimes we don't even know *is* crimes. TOM (laughing) Forget it, Ma. Jus' think about the nice things out there. Think about them grapes and oranges--an' ever'body got work-- GRANMA (waking suddenly) I gotta git out! TOM First gas station, Granma-- GRANMA I gotta git *out*, I tell ya! I gotta git *out*! TOM (foot on brakes) Awright! Awright! As the truck slows to a stop a motorcycle cop approaches after them. Looking back, Tom sees him bearing toward them. He looks grimly at Ma. TOM They shore don't waste no time! (As Granma whines) Take her out. COP (astraddle his motorcycle) Save your strength, lady. (to Tom) Get goin', buddy. No campin' here. TOM (relieved) We ain't campin'. We jus' stoppin' a minute-- COP Lissen, I heard that before-- GRANMA I tell ya I gotta git out! The cop looks startled, puzzled, but Tom shrugs a disclaimer for responsibility in that quarter. TOM (mildly) She's kinda ol'-- GRANMA (whimpering) I tell ya-- COP Okay, okay! GRANMA (triumphantly) Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory! As Ma helps Granma out the other side, Tom and the cop exchange a glance and snother shrug at the foibles of women and then look studiedly into space. The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: superimposed on the marker of U.S. Highway 66 an assortment of roadside signs flashes by: Bar-B-Q, Joe's Eats, Dr. Pepper, Gas, Coca Cola, This Highway is Patrolled, End of 25 Mile Zone, Lucky Strikes, Used Cars, Nutburger, Motel, Drive-Inn, Free Water, We Fix Flats, etc. A HAND-PAINTED SIGN reads: "CAMP 50¢." It is night. We hear the sound of guitar music. In the CAMP GROUND a small wooden house dominates the scene. There are no facilities; the migrants simply pitch makeshift tents and park their jalopies wherever there is a space. It is after supper and a dozen or more men sit on the steps of the house listening to Connie play a road song on a borrowed guitar. The music softens the tired, drawn faces of the men and drives away some of their shyness. In the dark, outside the circle of light from the gasoline lantern on the porch, some of the women and children sit and enjoy the luxury of this relative gaiety. The proprietor sits tipped back in a straight chair on the porch. We see the JOAD TENT. Behind their truck, a tarpaulin is stretched over a rope from tree to tree. Granma lies asleep on a quilt, stirring fitfully. Ma sits on the ground at her head, fanning her with a piece of cardboard. Rosasharn lies flat on her back, hands clasped under her head, looking up at the stars. The music comes to them pleasantly. ROSASHARN Ma... all this, will it hurt the baby? MA Now don't you go gettin' nimsy-mimsy. ROSASHARN Sometimes I'm all jumpy inside. MA Well, can't nobody get through nine *months* without sorrow. ROSASHARN But will it--hurt the baby? MA They use' to be a sayin': A chile born outa sorrow'll be a happy chile. An' another: Born outa too much joy'll be a doleful boy. That's the way I always heard it. ROSASHARN You don't ever get scairt, do you, Ma? MA (thoughtfully) Sometimes. A little. Only it ain't scairt so much. It's just waitin' an' wonderin'. But when sump'n happens that I got to do sump'n-- (simply) --I'll do it. ROSASHARN Don't it ever scare you it won't be nice in California like we think? MA (quickly) No. No, it don't. I can't do that. I can't let m'self. All I can do is see how soon they gonna wanta eat again. They'd all get upset if I done anymore 'n that. They all depen' on me jus' thinkin' about that. (After a pause) That's my part--that an' keepin' the fambly together. As the music ends we see a GROUP ON THE PORCH STEPS. The men murmur approbation of Connie's playing. PA (with quiet pride) Thas my son-in-law. FIRST MAN Sings real nice. What state y'all from? PA Oklahoma. Had us a farm there, share- croppin'. TOM Till the tractors druv us out. FIRST MAN We from Arkansas. I had me a store there, kind of general notions store, but when the farms went the store went too. (Sighing) Nice a little as you ever saw. I shore did hate to give it up. PA (profoundly) Wal, y'cain't tell. I figure when we git out there an' git work an' maybe git us a piece a growin' lan' near water it might not be so bad at that. OTHER MEN Thas right... Payin' good wages, I hear... Ever'body got work out there... Can't be no worse... As they talk, a SECOND MAN, standing on the edge of the group, begins to grin bitterly. He is much more ragged than the others. SECOND MAN You folks must have a pot a money. The GROUP turns to look at the Man. PA (with dignity) No, we ain't got no money. But they's plenty of us to work, an' we 're all good men. Get good wages out there an' put it all together an' we'll be awright. The Man begins to snigger and then to laugh in a high whinneying giggle which turns into a fit of coughing. All of the men are watching him. SECOND MAN Good wages, eh! Pickin' oranges an' peaches? PA (quietly) We gonna take whatever they got. TOM What's so funny about it? SECOND MAN (sniggering again) What's so funny about it? I just *been* out there! I been an' *seen* it! An' I'm goin' *back* to starve-- because I ruther starve all over at once! PA (angrily) Whatta you think you're talkin' about? I got a han'bill here says good wages, an' I seen it in the papers they need pickers! SECOND MAN Awright, go on! Ain't nobody stoppin' ya! PA (pulling out handbill) But what about this? SECOND MAN I ain't gonna fret you. Go on! TOM Wait a minute, buddy. You jus' done some jackassin'! You ain't gonna shut up now. The han'bill says they need men. You laugh an' say they don't. Now which one's a liar? SECOND MAN (after a pause) How many you'all got them han'bills? Come on, how many? At least three-quarters of the men worriedly reach into their pockets and draw out worn and folded handbills. PA But what does *that* prove? SECOND MAN Look at 'em! Same yella han'bill-- 800 pickers wanted. Awright, this man wants 800 men. So he prints up 5,000 a them han'bills an' maybe 20,000 people sees 'em. An' maybe two-three thousan' starts movin, wes' account a this han'bill. Two- three thousan' folks that's crazy with worry headin' out for 800 jobs! Does that make sense? There is a long worried silence. The proprietor leans forward angrily. PROPRIETOR What are you, a troublemaker? You sure you ain't one a them labor fakes? SECOND MAN I swear I ain't, mister! PROPRIETOR Well, don't you go roun' here tryin' to stir up trouble. SECOND MAN (drawing himself up) I tried to tell you folks sump'n it took me a year to fin' out. Took two kids dead, took my wife dead, to show me. But nobody couldn't tell me neither. I can't tell ya about them little fellas layin' in the tent with their bellies puffed out an' jus' skin on their bones, an' shiverin' an' whinin' like pups, an' me runnin' aroun' tryin' to get work-- (shouting) --not for money, not for wages--jus' for a cup a flour an' a spoon a lard! An' then the coroner came. "Them children died a heart-failure," he says, an' put it in his paper. (With wild bitterness) Heart-failure!--an' their little bellies stuck out like a pig-bladder! He looks around at the men, trying to control his emotions, and then he walks away into the darkness. There is an uneasy silence. FIRST MAN Well--gettin' late. Got to get to sleep. They all rise as at a signal, all moved and worried by the Second Man's outburst. TOM, PA AND CASY move away, worry on their faces. PA S'pose he's tellin' the truth--that fella? CASY He's tellin' the truth awright. The truth for him. He wasn't makin' nothin' up. TOM How about us? Is that the truth for us? CASY I don't know. PA (worriedly) How can you tell? The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: superimposed on the shield marker of U.S. Highway 66 and the rattling Joad truck the signs of towns flash by: AMARILLO, VEGA, GLENRIO. The TRUCK is seen on the HIGHWAY. It is now mountain country-- New Mexico. Then it is seen at a GAS STATION. It is a cheap two-pump station, hand-painted, dreary, dusty. Huddled next to it is a hamburger stand. In front of the hamburger stand is a truck labeled: NEW MEXICO VAN AND STORAGE COMPANY. The Joads are piling out of their truck. Directed by Ma, Noah lifts Granma out. The two children scamper around shrieking because their legs have gone to sleep. Al is preparing to put water in the radiator. Pa takes out a deep leather pouch, unties the strings, and begins calculating his money as the fat proprietor advances. FAT MAN (truculently) You folks aim to buy anything? AL Need some gas, mister. FAT MAN Got any money? AL Whatta you think:--we's beggin'? FAT MAN I just ast, that's all. TOM (evenly) Well, ask right. You ain't talkin' to bums, you know. FAT MAN (appealing to heaven) All in the worl' I done was ast! INSIDE THE HAMBURGER STAND, a standard cheap eatery, Bert is doing the short orders and Mae is handling the counter. A nickel phonograph is playing a tune. Bill, a truck driver, sits at the counter; his partner, Fred, is playing a slot machine. BILL Kinda pie y'got? MAE Banana cream, pineapple cream, chocolate cream--and apple. BILL Cut me off a hunk a that banana cream, and a cuppa java. FRED Make it two. MAE Two it is. (Smirking) Seen any new etchin's lately, Bill? BILL (grinning) Well, here's one ain't bad. Little kid comes in late to school. Teacher says-- He stops. Pa is peering in the screen door. Beside him Ruthie and Winfield have their noses flattened against the screen. Mae looks at Pa. MAE Yeah? PA Could you see your way clear to sell us a loaf of bread, ma'am. MAE This ain't a groc'ry store. We got bread to make san'widges with. PA I know, ma'am... on'y it's for a ole lady, no teeth, gotta sof'n it with water so she can chew it, an' she's hongry. MAE Whyn't you buy a san'wich? We got nice san'widges. PA (embarrassed) I shore would like to do that, ma'am, but the fack is, we ain't got but a dime for it. It's all figgered out, I mean--for the trip. MAE You can't get no loaf a bread for a dime. We only got fifteen-cent loafs. BERT (an angry whisper) Give 'em the bread. MAE We'll run out 'fore the bread truck comes. BERT Awright then, run out! Mae shrugs at the truck drivers, to indicate what she's up against, while Bert mashes his hamburgers savagely with the spatula. MAE Come in. Pa and the two children come in as Mae opens a drawer and pulls out a long waxpaper-covered loaf of bread. The children have been drawn to the candy showcase and are staring in at the goodies. MAE This here's a fifteen-cent loaf. PA Would you--could you see your way to cuttin' off ten cents worth? BERT (a clinched teeth order) Give 'im the loaf! PA No, sir, we wanta buy ten cents worth, thas all. MAE (sighing) You can have this for ten cents. PA I don't wanta rob you, ma'am. MAE (with resignation) Go ahead--Bert says take it. Taking out his pouch, Pa digs into it, feels around with his fingers for a dime, as he apologizes. PA May soun' funny to be so tight, but we got a thousan' miles to go, an' we don't know if we'll make it. But when he puts the dime down on the counter he has a penny with it. He is about to drop this back in the pouch when his eyes fall on the children staring at the candy. Slowly he moves down to see what they are looking at. Then: PA Is them penny candy, ma'am? The children look up with a gasp, their big eyes on Mae as she moves down behind the counter. MAE Which ones? PA There, them stripy ones. Mae looks from the candy to the children. They have stopped breathing, their eyes on the candy. MAE Oh, them? Well, no--them's *two* for a penny. PA Well, give me two then, ma'am. He places the penny carefully on the counter and Mae holds the sticks of candy out to the children. They look up at Pa. PA (beaming) Sure, take 'em, take 'em! Rigid with embarrassment, they accept the candy, looking neither at it nor at each other. Pa picks up the loaf of bread and they scramble for the door. At the door Pa turns back. PA Thank you, ma'am. The door slams. Bill turns back from staring after them. BILL Them wasn't two-for-a-cent candy. MAE (belligerently) What's it to you? BILL Them was nickel apiece candy. FRED We got to get goin'. We're droppin' time. Both reach in their pockets, but when Fred sees what Bill has put down he reaches again and duplicates it. As they go out of the door... BILL So long. MAE Hey, wait a minute. You got change comin'. BILL'S VOICE (from outside) What's it to you? As Mae watches them through the window, her eyes warm, Bert walks around the counter to the three slot machines, a paper with figures on it in his hand. The truck roars outside and moves off. Mae looks down again at the coins. MAE (softly) Bert. BERT (playing a machine) What ya want? MAE Look here. As he looks we see the COINS ON THE COUNTER. They are two half-dollars. MAE (reverently) Truck drivers. There is a rattle of coins as Bert hits the jackpot. In his left hand on the machine is a paper with three columns of figures on it. The third column is much the longest. He scoops out the money. BERT I figgered No. 3 was about ready to pay off. The scene fades out. The ARIZONA BORDER, in daylight, fades in. It is in a gap in the mountains and beyond can be seen the Painted Desert. A border guard halts the Joad truck. He is not as tough as his words indicate, just curt and matter-of-fact. GUARD Where you going? TOM (who is driving) California. GUARD How long you plan to be in Arizona? TOM No longer'n we can get acrost her. GUARD Got any plants? TOM No plants. GUARD (putting sticker on windshield) Okay. Go ahead, but you better keep movin'. TOM Sure. We aim to. The truck rattles into movement. The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE superimposed on the shield marker of U.S. Highway 66 and the Joad truck. Signs flash by: FLAGSTAFF, WATER 5¢ A GAL, WATER 10¢ A GAL, WATER 15¢ A GAL, and finally, NEEDLES, CALIF. In the foreground, their backs turned, the Joads stand on and about their truck looking in a long silence at what can be seen of California from Needles. Their silence is eloquent. The faces of the Joads are blank with dismay, for this is an unattractive sight indeed. PA (finally) There she is, folks--the land a milk an' honey--California! CONNIE (sullenly) Well, if *that's* what we come out here for... They look at each other in disappointment. ROSASHARN (timidly, to Connie) Maybe it's nice on the other side. Them pitchers--them little pos'cards-- they was real pretty. TOM (rallying them) Aw, sure. This here's jus' a part of it. Ain't no sense a gettin' scairt right off. PA Course not. Come on, let's get goin'. She don't look so tough to me! The Joads and the landscape are seen again. Then the scene dissolves to the BANK OF A RIVER. The camp at Needles is on the bank of the Colorado River, among some willows. We see the man of the family sitting chest-deep in the shallow waters, talking, occasionally ducking their heads under, reveling in this relief. In the background are the towering mountains. TOM Got that desert yet. Gotta take her tonight. Take her in the daytime fella says she'll cut your gizzard out. PA (to Al) How's Granma since we got her in the tent? AL She's off her chump, seems to me. NOAH She's outa her senses, awright. All night on the truck keep talkin' like she was talkin' to Grampa. TOM She's jus' wore out, that's all. PA (worriedly) I shore would like to stop here a while an' give her some res' but we on'y got 'bout forty dollars left. I won't feel right till we're there an' all workin' an' a little money comin' in. NOAH (lazily, after a silence) Like to jus' stay here myself. Like to lay here forever. Never get hungry an' never get sad. Lay in the water all life long, lazy as a brood sow in the mud. TOM (looking up at the mountains) Never seen such tough mountains. This here's a murder country, just the *bones* of a country. (Thoughtfully) Wonder if we'll ever get in a place where folks can live 'thout fightin' hard scrabble an' rock. Sometimes you get to thinkin' they *ain't* no such country. They look up as a man and his grown son stand on the bank. MAN How's the swimmin'? TOM Dunno. We ain't tried none. Sure feels good to set here, though. MAN Mind if we come in an' set? TOM She ain't our river. But we'll len' you a little piece of her. They start to shuck off their clothes. THE MAN, excluding those undressing, form another scene. PA Goin' west? MAN'S VOICE Nope. We come from there. Goin' back home. TOM Where's home? MAN'S VOICE Panhandle, come from near Pampa. PA (in surprise) Can you make a livin' there? MAN'S VOICE Nope. The man and his son sit down in the water. MAN (continuing) But at leas' we can starve to death with folks we know. There is a long silence among the Joads as the man and his son splash water over their heads. PA (slowly) Ya know, you're the second fella talked like that. I'd like to hear some more about that. TOM Me an' you both. The man and his son exchange a glance, as though the Joads had touched on the deadliest of subjects. SON (finally) He ain't gonna tell you nothin' about it. PA If a fella's willin' to work hard, can't he cut her? MAN Listen, mister. I don't know ever'thing. You might go out an' fall into a steady job, an' I'd be a liar. An' then, you might never get no work, an' I didn't warn you. All I can tell ya, most of the folks is purty mis'able. (Sullenly) But a fella don't know ever'thing. There is a disturbed silence as the Joads study the man, but he obviously has no intention of saying anything more. Finally Pa turns to his brother. PA John, you never was a fella to say much, but I'll be goldanged if you opened your mouth twicet since we lef' home. What you think about this? JOHN (scowling) I don't think *nothin'* about it. We're a-goin' there, ain't we? When we get there, we'll get there. When we get a job, we'll work, an' when we don't get a job we'll set on our behin's. That's all they is to it, ain't it? TOM (laughing) Uncle John don't talk much but when he does he shore talks sense. (He spurts water out of his mouth) The scene dissolves to a GAS STATION, at night. The Joad truck, loaded with goods and people, is last gas and servicing before the desert. Two white uniformed boys handle the station. A sign reads: "LAST CHANCE FOR GAS AND WATER." Al is filling the radiator. Tom is counting out the money for the gas. FIRST BOY You people got a lotta nerve. TOM What you mean? FIRST BOY Crossin' the desert in a jalopy like this. TOM You been acrost? FIRST BOY Sure, plenty, but not in no wreck like this. TOM If we broke down maybe somebody'd give us a han'. FIRST BOY (doubtfully) Well, maybe. But I'd hate to be doin' it. Takes more nerve than I got. TOM (laughing) It don't take no nerve to do somep'n when there ain't nothin' else you can do. (He climbs into the driver's seat) MA AND GRANMA are seen lying on a mattress in the TRUCK. Granma's eyes are shut. Actually she is near death. Ma keeps patting her. MA (softly) Don't you worry, Granma. It's gonna be awright. GRANMA (mumbling) Grampa... Grampa... I want Grampa... MA Don't you fret now. The truck moves off. We see the GAS STATION again with the truck pulling away. The First Boy, a lad who knows everything, stands looking after them, shaking his head. His assistant is cleaning up the pumps. FIRST BOY Holy Moses, what a hard-lookin' outfit! SECOND BOY All them Okies is hard-lookin'. FIRST BOY Boy, but I'd hate to hit that desert in a jalopy like that! SECOND BOY (contentedly) Well, you and me got sense. Them Okies got no sense or no feeling. They ain't human. A human being wouldn't live like they do. A human being couldn't stand it to be so miserable. FIRST BOY Just don't know any better, I guess. NOAH is seen hiding behind a corner of the GAS STATION. Peering out, he sees that the truck has gone. He turns to walk away into the darkness. The scene dissolves to a RIVER BANK at night, and Noah is once more seated in the shallow water, splashing, looking up at the mountains, content. The TRUCK is rattling along U.S. Highway 66, across the desert, in the night. In the DRIVER'S SEAT Tom is driving, Al and Pa are by his side. AL What a place! How'd you like to walk acrost her? TOM People done it. If they could, we could. AL Lots must a died, too. TOM (after a pause) Well, we ain't out a it yet. RUTHIE AND WINFIELD huddle together in THE TRUCK, eyes wide with excitement. RUTHIE This here's the desert an' we're right in it! WINFIELD (trying to see) I wisht it was day. RUTHIE Tom says if it's day it'll cut you gizzard smack out a you. (Trying to see too) I seen a pitcher once. They was bones ever'place. WINFIELD Man bones? RUTHIE Some, I guess, but mos'ly cow bones. MA AND GRANDMA are seen again. The old woman lies still, breathing noisily. Ma continues to pat her. MA (whispering) 'S awright, honey. Everything's gonna be awright. Then we see the TRUCK still churning along Highway 66 by night. CASY is asleep in the truck, his face wet with sweat. CONNIE AND ROSASHARN are huddled together, damp and weary. ROSASHARN Seems like we wasn't never gonna do nothin' but move. I'm so tar'd. CONNIE (sullenly) Women is always tar'd. ROSASHARN (fearfully) You ain't--you ain't sorry, are you, honey? CONNIE (slowly) No, but--but you seen that advertisement in the Spicy Western Story magazine. Don't pay nothin'. Jus' send 'em the coupon an' you're a radio expert--nice clean work. ROSASHARN (pleadingly) But we can still do it, honey. CONNIE (sullenly) I ought to done it then--an' not come on any trip like this. Her eyes widen with fright as he avoids meeting her glance. MA AND GRANDMA lie side by side. Ma's hand is on Grandma's heart. The old woman's eyes are shut and her breathing is almost imperceptible. MA (whispering) We can't give up, honey. The family's got to get acrost. You know that. JOHN'S VOICE Ever'thing all right? Ma does not answer immediately. Her head lifted, she is staring at Granma's face. Then slowly she withdraws her hand from Grandma's heart. MA (slowly) Yes, ever'thing's all right. I--I guess I dropped off to sleep. Her head rests again. She lies looking fixedly at the still face. The scene dissolves to an INSPECTION STATION, near Daggett, California, at night. Obeying a sign that reads: "KEEP RIGHT AND STOP," the Joad truck pulls up under a long shed as two officers, yawning, come out to inspect it. One takes down the license number and opens the hood. The people aboard the truck bestir themselves sleepily. TOM What's this here? OFFICER Agricultural inspection. We got to go over your stuff. Got any vegetables or seed? TOM No. OFFICER Well, we got to look over your stuff. You got to unload. MA gets down off the truck, her face swollen, her eyes hard. There is an undercurrent of hysteria in her voice and manner. MA Look, mister. We got a sick ol' lady. We got to get her to a doctor. We can't wait. (Almost hysterically) You can't make us wait! OFFICER Yeah? Well, we got to look you over. MA I swear we ain't got anything. I swear it. An' Granma's awful sick.