
In Old Chicago
- APPROVED
- Year:
- 1937
- 95 min
- 39 Views
Isn't it time to stop this travelin', | for it dark and the child shiverin'?
We will not. And us not two hours, | or maybe three, from Chicago itself?
"Ha, ha," says I.
Get along with ya, ya lazy devils. | I'll be layin' me whip on your backs.
Chicago will not be movin'...
and us living there for the rest | of our days, God willin'.
I'll not be held back | by your tongue.
A fine city waiting there | just over the rim of the land.
"I'll rest there tonight," | I said to myself.
And so I will. | 'Tis a mighty city will be built here.
The hub. Yes, the hub | of the country...
fillin' all | this prairie land...
and you boys | living to see it.
Huh, indeed.
Come on. | Get along with ya.
Look, Pa. | It's a train.
Come on, Pa. | Let's race her.
By the twinklin' stars | of heaven, I will.
- Come on, boys. | - You'll do no such.
Go on, Pa! | You can lick it!
We're licking it! | We're licking it!
Whoa! Whoa there!
Hold on, boys! | Whoa, boy. Whoa there.
Whoa!
Whoa, boy.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
- Pat. Pat! | - Pa.
Pat. Jack, | fix the water, quick.
Dion, my petticoat, | tear it.
- Ma. | - Shh!
Dion, take off your coat | and put it under his head.
- Is he hurt bad? | - How should I be knowin'?
Pour a little water over his head.
That's enough. | Dion, get the whiskey.
Never mind me. | Are the rest unharmed?
- Not a scratch. | - Heaven be praised for that.
'Twas me own fault | and no other.
Ain't it the devil's | own doin', though...
to be draggin' me down and then | bumping the life out of me?
Just when the smell | of Chicago's in me nose.
Jack.
Dion.
Bob.
Come closer here, | the three of ya...
and mind what | I have to say.
'Tis a grand new place, | this Chicago.
And them that grow with it | will be rich and strong...
like I was always | minded to be.
'Tis a boom, | and you'll boom with it.
Someday you'll be | fine, big men...
a credit to me name...
and everybody speakin' | with respect of the O'Learys...
and how they grew up with the city | and put their mark on it.
You're wastin' yourself, Patrick. | You with your fine talk.
It's me last breath I'm usin', | and I'll have me say.
- Help me put him in the wagon. We've got to find a doctor. | - No.
No, it's no use.
Just bury me here...
and let Chicago | come to me...
that couldn't come to it.
Molly...
Patrick.
- Patrick. | - Ma!
Holy Mary, Mother of God, | help my Pat rest in peace...
him that was so restless on Earth, | for he was a good man...
for all his fine | ambitions.
And if there ever was to be food | to be got or shelter...
or you wanted someone to laugh with | or have a bit of a good time...
you didn't have to look | any further than Patrick O'Leary.
But I need not | be tellin' you all this...
who know it better | than I do.
Amen.
Get the horses ready, | boys.
Good-bye, Pat.
Someday, I'll be | sendin' the priest...
Ma, I'll | take care of ya.
I'll do what he said. | You know, about Chicago and...
Sure, Ma, we'll | take care of ya.
I'm gonna make a lot of money | and get ya things and...
Hush it, | the both of you.
Get in the wagon.
Giddap.
Ho!
Ma, we've gotta find | someplace to stay.
- We can't keep on living in a wagon. | - Time enough for that.
- It's a job I'm looking for first. | - Look!
There's a theater.
Maybe I could get | to be an actor.
You an actor, and your father | not cold in his grave.
- But we've gotta do something. | - It's school you'll be going to, the three of ya.
School, at my age.
Whoa.
Look. Right under | my very eyes.
Wait here.
I won't be a minute away.
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"In Old Chicago" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 16 Jan. 2021. <https://www.scripts.com/script/in_old_chicago_10721>.