On the Waterfront Page #2

JOEY (defiantly)

You want me to jump so it looks

like an accident?

The assailants close in silently. Joey gestures them on.

JOEY:

Come on. I'll take one of you with me.

The goons edge in still closer, poker-faced, knowing they have him.

EXT—FRIENDLY BAR—NIGHT

An old-fashioned corner saloon with swinging doors. Standing on the

corner, fl anked by a goon aptly named the TRUCK is CHARLEY, THE GENT,

Terry's older brother, rather handsome if a little too smooth, in his

late thirties, a snappy dresser in his camel hair coat and snap brim

hat. He is quick-witted and affable, more politician than mobster.

Terry enters to him.

CHARLEY:

(gently)

How goes?

TERRY:

(tightly)

He's on the roof.

CHARLEY:

The pigeon?

TERRY:

(resentfully)

Like you said. It worked.

TRUCK:

(to Terry, tapping his own temple)

That brother of yours is thinkin' alla time.

TERRY:

(tense)

All the time.

There is a short, shrill, almost human cry of a boat whistle. It

changes slightly in pitch and we are hearing an actual cry.

CLOSE SHOT—BODY OF JOEY

Hurtling off roof, with a bloodcurdling shriek.

INT—CLOSE SHOT—WOMAN AT WINDOW (MRS. COLLINS)

She screams.

EXT—FRIENDLY BAR—FAVORING TERRY—NIGHT

Worried as he begins to wonder what happened.

TRUCK:

I'm afraid somebody fell off a roof.

Terry stares at him. Longshoremen come running out of the bar toward

the sound of the scream. Terry has to struggle not to be carried along

with them. He works his way toward Charley, standing on the curb with

Truck, calmly watching the Friendly Bar customers excitedly running

past him. (Calls and commotion in the distance O.S.)

TRUCK:

He thought he was gonna sing for the

Crime Commission. He won't.

Truck winks at Charley significantly. Terry catches the meaning and is

horrified.

TERRY:

(accusingly)

You said they was only going to talk to him.

CHARLEY:

That was the idea.

TERRY:

I thought they'd talk to him. Try to get

him to dummy up.

CHARLEY:

Maybe he gave them an argument.

TERRY:

I figured the worst they'd do is work him

over a little.

CHARLEY:

He probably gave 'em an argument.

TRUCK:

(almost primly)

He's been giving our boss a lot of trouble.

TERRY:

He wasn't a bad little fella, that Joey.

CHARLEY:

No he wasn't.

TRUCK:

Except for his mouth.

CHARLEY:

Talkative.

TERRY:

(muttering to himself)

Wasn't a bad little fella ...

TRUCK:

(chuckling)

Maybe he could sing, but he couldn't fly.

Terry looks at Truck, stricken.

CHARLEY:

(sympathetically, nodding toward bar)

Come on, kid. I'll buy you a drink.

TERRY:

(bewildered)

In a minute.

Charley looks at him, slightly concerned, and goes in with Truck. Terry

watches the longshoremen hurrying past him, in the direction of—

Rate this script:3.7 / 3 votes