THE CAMERA MOVES ON to a distant street corner seen between
two buildings. The traffic is very light at this hour, but a
Sanitation Department truck moves through the intersection
spraying water out behind it to cool the pavement and keep
the dust down. Three little kids in bathing suits run behind
the truck, playing in the water.
THE CAMERA MOVES OFF and around to some buildings at the
side. As it skims this building, we see a hand emerge from
one of the windows, and remove the cover from a birdcage
which is hanging from a hook on the wall outside. In the
cage are two lovebirds -- arguing.
THE CAMERA NOW PULLS BACK SWIFTLY and retreats through the
open window back into Jefferies' apartment. We now see more
of the sleeping man. THE CAMERA GOES IN far enough to show a
head and shoulders of him.
He is L. B. JEFFERIES. A tall, lean, energetic thirty five,
his face long and serious-looking at rest, is in other
circumstances capable of humor, passion, naive wonder and
the kind of intensity that bespeaks inner convictions of
moral strength and basic honesty.
He is sitting in an Everest and Jennings wheelchair.
THE CAMERA PANS along his right leg. It is encased in a
plaster of Paris spica from his waistline to the base of his
toes. Along the white cast someone has written "Here lie the
broken bones of L. B. Jefferies."
THE CAMERA PANS to a nearby table on which rests a shattered
and twisted Speed Graphic Camera, the kind used by fast-action