"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.