State of the Union Page #6

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Please.

The little guy

is eight today.

You'll talk to Mary, Grant.

You want me to?

I want anything that will

get you where you belong.

Invite her to stay here,

of course.

No way for a fellow

to be elected president

without his wife

knowing about it, is there?

Hello? Hello, Swenson.

Hello, Buck, how are you?

Put Mrs. Matthews on.

What's all the noise?

Oh, the birthday party.

Hello? Hello, Joyce!

How are you, sweetheart?

It's my daughter, she's 10.

Hmm.

Hello, Butch,

is that you, son?

How are you?

Happy birthday!

Well, uh,

I can't sing it now.

Yeah, Butch. Hello?

Hello, Mary.

Mary, could you get the kids

off the other phone?

Mary, I can't sing it here.

Yeah.

Now don't call me Nappy.

No...

Okay, okay. You'll love this.

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Truman's gonna get

the musical vote.

Happy birthday, dear Grant

Happy birthday to you

Flat? I was not flat.

Look, Mary,

I'm here in Washington, D.C.,

and I'm going to make

a tour of the plants.

Hello, Butch...

Look, Mary, Mary,

it's a little too tough

over the phone.

Could you come down here,

do you suppose? Yeah.

We'll stay with Jim Conover.

Conover!

He's a sort of a ham.

I'll send you the address,

Mary...

Mary, come please, will you?

All right, dear.

Yes, yes, Butch.

Yeah, yeah, I know.

Yes, Joyce.

Goodbye, sweetheart.

Goodbye.

She's coming?

Yes, yes, heaven help me.

And when she gets here,

she's to be told

the whole story.

If she decides

to change her mind

and go back home,

nobody is to

interfere with her.

Is that understood?

Funny world.

I want you to be President,

so I go back to New York

and you tour the country

with your wife.

Politics make

strange bedfellows.

Come in.

Hello, Grant.

How's the people's choice?

This fantastic notion had me

thinking about myself so much,

I forgot there were others.

Just talking home on the phone

did that to you?

Mary and the kids

can't be dismissed

with a wave of the mind, Kay.

Still dragging around

some of those little chains,

aren't you, Grant?

What chains?

Those little chains of

middle-class morality

that've kept big men down,

all through the ages.

Nothing's dragging me down.

I just want everything

out in the open.

No more hiding in the dark.

No more playing both ends

against the middle.

And no White House.

No, Kay, no White House.

Sounded like a pipe dream,

anyway.

No pipe dream to me, Grant.

I believe in you.

I know you do, Kay.

And I know just what

you've meant to me.

But...

But, sit down.

Look, Grant.

Don't you suppose I knew

what was going

to happen to me

if you ran for president?

Don't you suppose I knew

there had to be a Mary

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