The Tarnished Angels

(FAIRGROUND MUSIC PLAYS)

MAN:
Who's your old man, kid?

Huh? Who's your old man?

Who's your old man today, kid?

Huh? Who's your old man? (LAUGHS)

Who's your old man today, kid, huh?

Ok, champ.

We're just having a

little fun, that's all.

The kid's not laughing.

You've got to quit fighting

old-timers. You almost killed him.

How about taking me on?

- For an ice-cream cone.

- Chocolate?

- Anything you say.

- Oh, boy!

- You Ok now, Dempsey?

- My name ain't Dempsey.

What is it? Tunney? Sharkey?

Chocolate.

- Jack Shumann.

- Shumann...

- Roger Shumann your old man?

- He's my father.

Oh. Great flier. Real war ace.

Shot down 14 German planes.

- 16.

- Books say 14.

They didn't count right.

They missed two.

All right. I'll take

your word for it.

- How old are you?

- Nine.

Nine, huh? Pretty big fella.

- Bet you can ride a two-Wheeler.

- Two-Wheeler? What's that?

A bicycle. Can't you

ride a bike yet?

I can fly a plane.

That's really something.

What was that fight all about? Didn't

that grease monkey know your old man?

I mean your father. Didn't he

know he was Roger Shumann?

He thinks I don't know

who my father is.

Roger or Jiggs.

- Well, who's Jiggs?

- One of us.

My father's a mechanic.

Who's that with Jack? I hope

it's not a truant officer.

No. They don't buy ice-cream cones.

Well, look at Jiggs.

What's with you? Gonna get

in the Mardi Gras parade?

- Can't a fella dress up?

- Sure he can.

For somebody he wants to impress.

- You like 'em, Laverne?

- Ooh. Brand-new.

You're a dream.

- Where'd you get 'em?

- Oh, I bought 'em downtown.

How much?

I saw 'em in a store window. I...

I couldn't walk away from 'em.

- Did you rent us a room?

- LAVERNE:
We can sleep in the hangar.

Have you got a nickel

left for a bus ride?

Yeah. I got $2.50 left.

Go get our money back.

I-I-I can't, Rog.

I already wrote my name

inside the boots. With ink.

Haven't you heard about the Depression?

Haven't we had enough of two-bit prizes?

- I wasn't thinking.

- You've got to think!

It's not like it was in

France, just us and the war.

- Gotta think of Laverne and Jack now.

- It's over with, Roger. Let's forget it.

I-I saw these boots and I had to have

'em. I wanted to dress up clean for once.

Look like I was a

hotshot pilot, like...

like I was Roger Shumann.

Jack. Who's your friend?

Burke Devlin. I'm with the

New Orleans Times-Picayune.

I'm Roger Shumann. This

is my wife Laverne.

Jiggs, my mechanic. Greatest

grease monkey around.

Without him, I wouldn't fly a kite.

Uh... I hope it was Ok for me

to buy Jack some ice cream.

Sure. Thanks.

- ROGER:
How'd you meet up with the kid?

- Well, I...

Just bumped into one another.

Got to talking, walking around.

- Anything for a story, huh?

- Yeah, just about.

Say, is there an all-night

movie house here in town?

No, I don't think so.

But I could fix you up with a

place to bed down for the night.

We've slept in the best hotels

and in the worst hangars, so...

- don't go feeling sorry for us.

- I have no feeling.

Except for a story. Maybe

I'll get one out of you.

Make yourself at home.

Here's the key to my apartment.

- Hiya, Burke.

- Hello, Matt.

How'd you tear yourself

away from Laverne Shumann?

- Got yourself a good pilot?

- Yeah. Crackerjack.

This is Frank Burnham.

Burke Devlin.

Best newspaperman in town.

- Who's flying this one?

- White job's out. Engine's on the Fritz.

It's just as well, because I'm

gonna take all the prizes anyway.

That's exactly what he did

last week in Oklahoma City.

Pretty classy ships, huh?

Yeah, not bad... for

flying billboards.

Flying billboards?

(LAUGHS)

That's a hot one, ain't it?

Hey, Burke. Look, you play ball with

me, I'll match your pay cheque.

Something's the matter

with my typewriter.

Can't seem to spell out

"Diamond Blade Tractors".

FRANK:
Wow.

- Real trim, huh?

- Shut up.

Boy, that turned-up nose

is sure getting you down.

Ride the plane, kid, not me.

The air show? Keep it down.

We're tight on space.

- I'll write it, you cut it.

- I could Chuck it in the waste basket.

- You got something against war heroes?

- What war? The war between the states?

There have been other wars.

Your war hero's probably just

a greasy, drunken Gypsy.

What do you think that air show is?

A cheap, crummy carnival of death.

Did you expect me to

Spike it with cream?

No time to give you a

temperance lecture now.

I could tell you of winged

knights jousting with death,

if I felt you could smell a

story the way you smell whisky.

- The redhead was asking about you.

- What'd you tell her?

I told her we'd look in on her tonight

if she got a fourth for bridge.

I can't make it tonight...

and no arguments.

Well, I'll have to

round up a poker game.

- Is it Ok if we use your flat?

- No.

- You entertaining a maiden aunt?

- No, just some Gypsies.

Gypsies?

(BAND PLAYS LIVELY MARCH)

- Hello.

- Hello.

- What are you reading?

- One of your books.

Hm?

My Antonia by Willa Cather.

Nostalgia in Nebraska.

Lost farms and faded loves.

Brings back memories

of home, who I was.

And how I was, when I first

started reading it...

- 12 years ago.

- Never finished it?

No, I never did.

- I left it behind when I left home.

- Oh. Did you run away?

I never thought of it that way.

I had a good home.

Well, then what took you away?

A Liberty Bond poster.

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