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                                  "THE GRAPES OF WRATH"



                                     Nunnally Johnson

                         Based on the Novel "The Grapes Of Wrath"


                                      John Steinbeck


               AN OKLAHOMA PAVED HIGHWAY in daylight. At some distance, 
               hoofing down the highway, comes Tom Joad. He wears a new 
               stiff suit of clothes, ill-fitting, and a stiff new cap, 
               which he gradually manages to break down into something 
               comfortable. He comes down the left side of the road, the 
               better to watch the cars that pass him. As he approaches, 
               the scene changes to a roadside short-order RESTAURANT on 
               the right side of the road. From it comes the sound of a 
               phonograph playing a 1939 popular song. In front of the eatery 
               is a huge Diesel truck labeled: OKLAHOMA CITY TRANSPORT 
               COMPANY. The driver, a heavy man with army breeches and high-
               laced boots, comes out of the restaurant, the screen door 
               slamming behind him. He is chewing on a toothpick. A waitress 
               appears at the door, behind the screen.

                         When you be back?

                         Couple a weeks. Don't do nothin' you 
                         wouldn't want me to hear about!

               We see him climbing into the cab of the truck from the right 
               side. Getting behind the wheel, he is releasing the handbrake 
               when Tom appears at the driver's seat window.

                         How about a lift, mister?

                         Can't you see that sticker?

               He indicates a "No Riders" sticker on the windshield.

                         Sure I see it. But a good guy don't 
                         pay no attention to what some heel 
                         makes him stick on his truck.

               After a moment of hesitation the driver releases the brake.

                         Scrunch down on the running board 
                         till we get around the bend.

               As Tom scrunches down on the running board the driver throws 
               the truck into gear and it moves.

               The scene dissolves to the CAB OF THE TRUCK. It is day, and 
               Tom is seated beside the driver, who is surreptitiously eyeing 
               him, trying to confirm some suspicion--an inspection which 
               Tom ignores at first.

                         Goin' far?

                              (shaking his head)
                         Just a few miles. I'd a walked her 
                         if my dogs wasn't pooped out.

                         Lookin' for a job?

                         No, my old man got a place, forty 
                         acres. He's a sharecropper, but we 
                         been there a long time.

                              (after a curious glance)

               Cautiously, the driver's eyes drop to Tom's feet. We see 
               TOM'S SHOES. They are prison shoes--new, stiff and bulky.

               Curiosity is in the eyes of the DRIVER as they shoot a swift 
               glance at Tom. TOM is looking straight ahead, with the dead-
               pan look that prisoners get when they are trying to conceal 
               something. The DRIVER'S eyes take in Tom's hands and the 
               stiff coat.

                         Been doin' a job?


                         I seen your hands. You been swinging 
                         a pick or a sledge--that shines up 
                         your hands. I notice little things 
                         like that all the time.
                              (After a pause)
                         Got a trade?

                         Why don't you get to it, buddy?

                         Get to what?

                         You know what I mean. You been givin' 
                         me a goin' over ever since I got in. 
                         Whyn't you go on and ask me where I 

                         I don't stick my nose in nobody's 

                         Naw--not much!

                              (a little frightened)
                         I stay in my own yard.

                              (without emotion)
                         Listen. That big nose of yours been 
                         goin' over me like a sheep in a 
                         vegetable patch. But I ain't keepin' 
                         it a secret. I been in the 
                         penitentiary. Been there four years. 
                         Like to know anything else?

                         You ain't got to get sore.

                         Go ahead. Ask me anything you want.

                         I didn't mean nothing.

                         Me neither. I'm just tryin' to get 
                         along without shovin' anybody around, 
                         that's all.
                              (After a pause)
                         See that road up ahead?


                         That's where I get off.

               With a sigh of relief the driver puts his foot on the brake. 
               The TRUCK stops and Tom gets out. He look at the uneasy driver 

                         You're about to bust to know what I 
                         done, ain't you?  Well, I ain't a 
                         guy to let you down.

               The driver throws the truck into gear. He doesn't like this 
               at all.

                         I never asked you!

                              (as the truck moves 
                         Sure, but you'd a throwed a fit if I 
                         hadn't tol' you.

               He looks indifferently after the truck and then starts on 
               foot down the dirt crossroad. A wind has begun to blow.

               The scene dissolves to the roadside under a WILLOW TREE in 
               daylight. The wind is still blowing. Sitting on the ground, 
               his back against the tree, Casy, a long, lean man in overalls, 
               blue shirt, and one sneaker, is fixing something on the other 
               dirty sneaker. To the tune of "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby" he 
               is absent-mindedly singing.

                         Mmmmm he's my saviour. Mmmmm my 
                         saviour, Mmmmmmmmmm my saviour now.
                              (Looking up as Tom 
                              comes down the road)
                         Howdy, friend.

               Carrying his coat under his arm, TOM wipes his face with his 
               cap as he cuts off the road to acknowledge the greeting.


               He stops, grateful for the momentary relief of the shade.

                         Say, ain't you young Tom Joad--ol' 
                         Tom's boy?

                         Yeah. On my way home now.

                         Well, I do declare!
                         I baptized you, son.

                         Why, you're the preacher!

                         *Used* to be. Not no more. I lost 
                         the call.
                         But boy, I sure *used* to have it! 
                         I'd get an irrigation ditch so 
                         squirmin' full of repented sinners I 
                         pretty near *drowned* half of 'em!
                         But not no more. I lost the sperit.

                              (with a grin)
                         Pa always said you was never cut out 
                         to be a preacher.

                         I got nothin' to preach about no 
                         more--that's all. I ain't so sure o' 

                         Maybe you should a got yourself a 

                              (shakes his head sadly)
                         At my meetin's I used to get the 
                         girls glory-shoutin' till they about 
                         passed out. Then, I'd go to comfort 
                         'em--and always end up by lovin' 
                         'em. I'd feel bad, an' pray, an' 
                         pray, but it didn't do no good. Next 
                         time, do it again. I figgered there 
                         just wasn't no hope for me.

                         I never let one go by me when I could 
                         catch her.

                         But you wasn't a preacher. A girl 
                         was just a girl to you. But to me 
                         they was holy vessels. I was savin' 
                         their souls.
                         I ast myself--what *is* this call, 
                         the Holy Sperit? Maybe *that's* love. 
                         Why, I love everybody so much I'm 
                         fit to bust sometimes!  So maybe 
                         there ain't no sin an' there ain't 
                         no virtue. There's just what people 
                         do. Some things folks do is nice, 
                         and some ain't so nice. But that's 
                         as far as any man's got a right to 

                              (after a moment, 
                              figuring there is no 
                              percentage in 
                              continuing this 
                              discussion, pulls 
                              out a flask, which 
                              he extends)
                         Have a little snort?

                              (holding the flask)
                         Course I'll say grace if somebody 
                         sets out the food--
                              (shaking his head)
                         --but my heart ain't in it.
                              (He takes a long pull)
                         Nice drinkin' liquor.

                         Ought to be. That's fact'ry liquor. 
                         Cost me a buck.

                              (handing back the 
                         Been out travelin' around?

                         Didn't you hear? It was in the papers.

                         No, I never. What?

                         I been in the penitentiary for four 
                              (He drinks)

                         Excuse me for asking.

                         I don't mind any more. I'd do what I 
                         done again. I killed a guy at a dance. 
                         We was drunk. He got a knife in me 
                         and I laid him out with a shovel. 
                         Knocked his head plumb to squash.

                         And you ain't ashamed?

                              (shaking his head)
                         He had a knife in me. That's why 
                         they only gave me seven years. Got 
                         out in four--parole.

                         Ain't you seen your folks since then?

                              (putting on his coat)
                         No, but I aim to before sundown. 
                         Gettin' kind of excited about it, 
                         too. Which way you going?

                              (putting on his sneaker)
                         It don't matter. Ever since I lost 
                         the sperit it looks like I just as 
                         soon go one way as the other.
                         I'll go your way.

               They pause at the edge of the shade, squint up at the sky, 
               and then move off.

               The scene dissolves to the SURFACE OF A DIRT ROAD by daylight. 
               Leaves are scuttling across it. The top soil begins to fly 
               up. It is not a hard wind as yet, but it is steady and 
               persistent. Tom's and Casy's feet walk into sight.

                         Maybe Ma'll have pork for supper. I 
                         ain't had pork but four times in 
                         four years--every Christmas.

                         I'll be glad to see you pa. Last 
                         time I seen him was at a baptizin', 
                         an' he had one a the bigges' doses 
                         of the Holy Sperit I ever seen. He 
                         go to jumpin' over bushes, howlin' 
                         like a dog-wolf in moon-time. Fin'ly 
                         he picks hisself out a bush big as a 
                         piana an' he let out a squawk an' 
                         took a run at that bush. Well, sir, 
                         he cleared her but he bust his leg 
                         snap in two. They was a travellin' 
                         dentist there and he set her, an' I 
                         give her a prayin' over, but they 
                         wasn't no more Holy Sperit in your 
                         pa after that.

                         Lissen. This wind's fixin't to *do* 

                         Shore it is. It always is, this time 
                         a year.

               Tom, holding his cap on his head with his hand, looks up... 
               The TOPS OF THE TREES are bending before the wind. TOM AND 
               CASY continue walking.

                         Is it fur?

                              (still looking back)
                         Just around that next bend.

               TOM AND CASY are almost being blown along and dust is rising 
               from the road.

                              (lifting his voice 
                              above the wind)
                         Your granma was a great one, too. 
                         The third time she got religion she 
                         go it so powerful she knocked down a 
                         full-growed deacon with her fist.

                              (pointing ahead)
                         That's our place.

               The JOAD CABIN is an ancient, bleak, sway-backed building. 
               There is neither sign of life or habitation about it.

                              (looking back)
                         And it ain't any too close, either! 
                         We better run!

               A DUST STORM, like a black wall, rises into the sky, moving 
               forward. TOM AND CASY are running, but looking back over 
               their shoulders as the DUST STORM nears. Dust rises from the 
               ground to join and thicken the black wall.

               TOM AND CASY are seen racing down the road to the cabin, the 
               wind whipping up the dust. The two men smack open the door 
               and slam it shut after them. The screen begins to grow dark 
               as the storm sweeps over the land. It becomes black.

               In THE CABIN, it is black too, but the sound is different. 
               In addition to the sound of the wind there is the soft hissing 
               of sand against the house.

                                     TOM'S VOICE
                         Ma?... Pa?... Ain't nobody here?
                              (After a long silence)
                         Somepin's happened.

                                     CASY'S VOICE
                         You got a match?

                                     TOM'S VOICE
                         There was some pieces of candle always 
                         on a shelf.

               Presently, after shuffling about, he has found them and lights 
               one. He holds it up, lighting the room. A couple of wooden 
               boxes are on the floor, a few miserable discarded things, 
               and that's all. Tom's eyes are bewildered.

                         They're all gone--or dead.

                         They never wrote you nothing?

                         No. They wasn't people to write.

               From the floor he picks up a woman's high button shoe, curled 
               up at the toe and broken over the instep.

                         This was Ma's. Had 'em for years.

               Dropping the shoe, he picks up a battered felt hat.

                         This used to be mine. I give it to 
                         Grampa when I went away.
                              (To Casy)
                         You reckon they could be dead?

                         I never heard nothin' about it.

               Dropping the hat, he moves with the candle toward the door 
               to the back, the only other room of the cabin. He stands in 
               the doorway, holding the candle high.

               In the BACK ROOM the scene moves from Tom at the door across 
               the room to the shadows, where a skinny little man sits 
               motionless, wide-eyed, staring at Tom. His name is Muley.


                         Muley! Where's my folks, Muley?

                         They gone.

                         I know that! But *where* they gone?

               Muley does not reply. He is looking up at Casy as he enters.

                              (to Casy)
                         This is Muley Graves.
                              (To Muley)
                         You remember the preacher, don't 

                         I ain't no preacher anymore.

                         All right, you remember the *man* 

                                     MULEY AND CASY
                         Glad to see you again. Glad to see 

                         Now where is my folks?

                         --over to your Uncle John's. The 
                         whole crowd of 'em, two weeks ago. 
                         But they can't stay there either, 
                         because John's got *his* notice to 
                         get off.

                         But what's happened?  How come they 
                         got to get off? We been here fifty 
                         years--same place.

                         Ever'body got to get off. Ever'body 
                         leavin', goin' to California. My 
                         folks, your folks, ever'body's folks.
                              (After a pause)
                         Ever'body but me. I ain't gettin' 

                         But who done it?

                              (Impatiently Tom 
                              listens to the storm)
                         That's some of what done it--the 
                         dusters. Started it, anyway. Blowin' 
                         like this, year after year--blowin' 
                         the land away, blowin' the crops 
                         away, blowin' us away now.

                         Are you crazy?

                         Some say I am.
                              (After a pause)
                         You want to hear what happened?

                         That's what I asked you, ain't it?

               MULEY is seen at close range. Not actually crazy, Muley is a 
               little touched. His eyes rove upward as he listens to the 
               sound of the storm, the sough of the wind and the soft hiss 
               of the sand. Then...

                         The way it happens--the way it 
                         happened to me--the man come one 

               The scene dissolves to MULEY'S DOORYARD. It is a soft spring 
               day, with the peaceful sounds of the country. Seated in a 
               three-year-old touring car is THE MAN, a city man with a 
               collar and tie. He hates to do what he is doing and this 
               makes him gruff and curt, to hide his misgivings. Squatted 
               beside the car are Muley, his son-in-law, and a half-grown 
               son. At a respectful distance stand Muley's wife, his 
               daughter, with a baby in her arms, and a small barefooted 
               girl, watching worriedly. The men soberly trace marks on the 
               ground with small sticks. A hound dog sniffs at the automobile 

                                     THE MAN
                         Fact of the matter, Muley, after 
                         what them dusters done to the land, 
                         the tenant system don't work no more. 
                         It don't even break even, much less 
                         show a profit. One man on a tractor 
                         can handle twelve or fourteen of 
                         these places. You just pay him a 
                         wage and take *all* the crop.

                         But we couldn't *do* on any less'n 
                         what our share is now.
                              (Looking around)
                         The chillun ain't gettin' enough to 
                         eat as it is, and they're so ragged 
                         we'd be shamed if ever'body else's 
                         chillun wasn't the same way.

                                     THE MAN
                         I can't help that. All I know is I 
                         got my orders. They told me to tell 
                         you you got to get off, and that's 
                         what I'm telling you.

               Muley stands in anger. The two younger men pattern after 

                         You mean get off my own land?

                                     THE MAN
                         Now don't go blaming me. It ain't 
                         *my* fault.

                         Whose fault is it?

                                     THE MAN
                         You know who owns the land--the 
                         Shawnee Land and Cattle Company.

                         Who's the Shawnee Land and Cattle 

                                     THE MAN
                         It ain't nobody. It's a company.

                         They got a pres'dent, ain't they? 
                         They got somebody that knows what a 
                         shotgun's for, ain't they?

                                     THE MAN
                         But it ain't *his* fault, because 
                         the *bank* tells him what to do.

                         All right. Where's the bank?

                                     THE MAN
                         Tulsa. But what's the use of picking 
                         on him? He ain't anything but the 
                         manager, and half crazy hisself, 
                         trying to keep up with his orders 
                         from the east!

                         Then who *do* we shoot?

                                     THE MAN
                              (stepping on the 
                         Brother, I don't know. If I did I'd 
                         tell you. But I just don't know 
                         *who's* to blame!

                         Well, I'm right here to tell you, 
                         mister, ain't *nobody* going to push 
                         me off *my* land! Grampa took up 
                         this land seventy years ago. My pa 
                         was born here. We was *all* born on 
                         it, and some of us got killed on it, 
                         and some died on it. And that's what 
                         makes it ourn--bein' born on it, and 
                         workin' it, and dyin' on it--and not 
                         no piece of paper with writin' on 
                         it! So just come on and try to push 
                         me off!

               The scene dissolves to the BACK ROOM. The sound of the storm 
               is heard again as Tom and Casy watch Muley.


                              (without emotion)
                         They come. They come and pushed me 

               We see MULEY at close range.

                         They come with the cats.

                                     TOM'S VOICE
                         The what?

                         The cats--the caterpillar tractors.

               The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE OF TRACTORS: tractors looming 
               over hillocks, flattening fences, through gullies, their 
               drivers looking like robots, with goggles, dust masks over 
               mouth and nose--one after the other, crossing and recrossing 
               as if to convey the impression that this was an invasion of 
               machine-men from some other world.

                                     MULEY'S VOICE
                         And for ever' one of 'em ten-fifteen 
                         families gets throwed outa their 
                         homes--one hundred folks with no 
                         place to live but on the road. The 
                         Rances, the Perrys, the Peterses, 
                         the Joadses--one after another they 
                         got throwed out. Half the folks you 
                         and me know--throwed right out into 
                         the road. The one that got me come a 
                         month ago.

               The scene dissolves to MULEY'S FARM. We see the backs of 
               Muley and the two younger men standing shoulder to shoulder 
               watching a lumbering tractor headed straight toward them. It 
               is at some distance. Muley holds a shotgun. His son has a 
               baling hook. The son-in-law has a two-by-four. Behind them 
               is their cabin. Frightened and huddled together are the women 
               and children. The roar of the tractor comes closer.

                         You come any closer and I'm gonna 
                         blow you right outa that cat!
                              (He lifts his shotgun)

               The TRACTOR continues to lumber along, its driver goggled 
               and black of face where his dust mask doesn't cover. MULEY 
               lifts his shotgun to his shoulder, and aims.

                         I *tol'* you!

               The TRACTOR stops. The driver takes off his goggles and dust 
               mask. Like the others he's a country boy. His face is sullen. 
               Muley is lowering his shotgun. There is a surprise in his 
               face as he recognizes the driver.

                         Why, you're Joe Davis's boy!

               He moves forward, followed by his son and son-in-law in the 
               TRACTOR. Davis is wiping his face as they walk toward him.

                         I don't like nobody drawin' a bead 
                         on me.

                         Then what are you doin' this kind a 
                         thing for--against your own people?

                         For three dollars a day, that's what 
                         I'm doin' it for. I got two little 
                         kids. I got a wife and my wife's 
                         mother. Them people got to eat. Fust 
                         and on'y thing I got to think about 
                         is my own folks. What happens to 
                         other folks is their lookout.

                         But this is *my land*, son. Don't 
                         you understand?

                              (putting his goggles 
                              back on)
                         *Used* to be your land. B'longs to 
                         the comp'ny now.

               We see THE WOMENFOLKS. A small girl pulls her mother's dress.

                         What's he fixin' to do, ma?


               Back to the TRACTOR AND THE MEN:

                         Have it your own way, son, but just 
                         as sure as you touch my house with 
                         that cat I'm gonna blow you plumb to 
                         kingdom come.

                         You ain't gonna blow nobody nowhere. 
                         First place, you'd get hung and you 
                         know it. For another, it wouldn't be 
                         two days before they'd have another 
                         guy here to take my place.

               And the tractor roars into slow motion again...

               We see the HOUSE AND TRACTOR. The womenfolks scamper out of 
               the way as the tractor heads for a corner of the house. It 
               goes over a ramshackle fence and then a feeble little flower 
               bed. Muley and the two younger men walk along. Breathing 
               hard, frightened and desperate, Muley is shouting warnings 
               at Davis, but the roar of the tractor drowns his voice. The 
               dog barks excitedly, snarling at the tractor. THE WOMENFOLKS 
               stand watching, terrified but dead pan, until a cry bursts 
               from Muley's wife.

                         Don't! Please don't!

               The little girl begins to whimper.

                         I'm tellin' you!

               The TRACTOR moves across the yard, nosing a chair out of the 
               way, and with a rending of boards hits a corner of the house, 
               knocking a part of the foundation away. The corner of the 
               house sinks. MULEY lifts his shotgun, aims it, holds it, and 
               then slowly lowers it. As he stands looking at what has 
               happened his shoulders sag. He seems almost to shrink.

               The scene dissolves to MULEY, once more in the back room of 
               Tom's old home, as the sound of the storm continues.

                         What was the use. He was right. There 
                         wasn't a thing in the world I could 
                         do about it.

                         But it don't seem possible--kicked 
                         off like that!

                         The rest of my fambly set out for 
                         the west--there wasn't nothin' to 
                         eat--but I couldn't leave. Somepin' 
                         wouldn't let me. So now I just wander 
                         around. Sleep wherever I am. I used 
                         to tell myself I was lookin' out for 
                         things, so when they come back 
                         ever'thing would be all right. But I 
                         knowed that wan't true. There ain't 
                         nothin' to look out for. And ain't 
                         nobody comin' back. They're gone--
                         and me, I'm just an 'ol graveyard 
                         ghost--that's all in the world I am.

               Tom rises in his agitation and bewilderment.

                         You think I'm touched.

                         No. You're lonely--but you ain't 

                         It don't matter. If I'm touched, I'm 
                         touched, and that's all there is to 

                              (still unable to grasp 
                              it all)
                         What I can't understand is my folks 
                         takin' it! Like ma! I seen her nearly 
                         beat a peddler to death with a live 
                         chicken. She aimed to go for him 
                         with an ax she had in the other hand 
                         but she got mixed up and forgot which 
                         hand was which and when she got 
                         through with that peddler all she 
                         had left was two chicken legs.

               He looks down at Muley.

                         Just a plain 'ol graveyard ghost, 
                         that's all.

               His eyes are dull on the floor. The sound of the dust storm 
               continues strongly.

               The scene dissolves to the EXTERIOR OF THE CABIN at night. 
               It is several hours later and the sound of the storm has 
               faded out. Now all is silence as first Tom, then Casy, and 
               finally Muley steps out of the cabin and looks around. There 
               is still a slight fog of dust in the air, and clouds of 
               powderlike dust shoot up around their feet. All three men 
               have wet rags tied over their mouths and noses.

                         She's settlin'.

                         What you figger to do?

                         It's hard to say. Stay here till 
                         mornin' an' then go on over to Uncle 
                         John's, I reckon. After that I don't 

                              (grabbing Tom)
                              (Faint sound of motor)
                         That's them! Them lights! Come on, 
                         we got to hide out!

                         Hide out for what? We ain't doin' 

                         You're *trespassin'*! It ain't you 
                         lan' no more! An' that's the 
                         supr'tendant--with a gun!

                         Come on, Tom. You're on parole.

               A CAR approaches at some distance, the headlights moving up 
               and down as the car rides a dirt road.

               A PART OF THE COTTON FIELD: Muley leads the way.

                         All you got to do is lay down an' 

                              (as they lie down)
                         Won't they come out here?

                         I don't think so. One come out here 
                         once an' I clipped him from behin' 
                         with a fence stake. They ain't 
                         bothered since.

               THE EXTERIOR OF THE CABIN: The car stops. A strong searchlight 
               flashes on and goes over the cabin.

                              (in car)
                              (After a pause)
                         He ain't here.

               The car moves on.

               TOM, CASY AND MULEY lie flat, listening to the sound of the 
               car going away.

                         Anybody ever 'tol me I'd be hidin' 
                         out on my own place...!

               He whistles, as the scene fades out.

               DRIED CORNSTALKS, seen by daylight, fade in. The cornstalks, 
               their roots blown clean and clear of the earth, lie fallen 
               in one direction. This is what has happened to farms that 
               were once rich and green. Then Uncle John's cabin comes into 
               view. It is just after sunup. The air is filled with country 
               sounds--a shrill chorus of birds, a dog barking in the 
               distance. The cabin is of the same general appearance as the 
               Joad cabin but even smaller. Smoke curls from the chimney.

               We see a PLATTER ON A TABLE, inside the cabin. The platter 
               is filled with sidemeat. Over the scene comes Ma Joad's voice.

                                     MA'S VOICE
                         Lord, make us thankful for what we 
                         are about to receive, for His sake. 

               As she speaks, a man's scrawny hand reaches forward and sneaks 
               out a piece of sidemeat.

               Five people are seated around the breakfast table on chairs 
               or boxes. They are Pa, Grampa, Granma, Noah, and Uncle John. 
               Two children, Ruthie and Winfield, stand to the table, because 
               there are no more chairs. Their heads are all bent as Ma, 
               standing with a fork in her hand between the table and the 
               stove, ends the grace. Heads lift and there is a bustle as 
               Ma turns back to the frying pork on the stove and the others 
               truck into their food. Granma points a spiteful finger at 

                         I seen you!--You et durin' grace!

                         One little ole dab!--one teeny little 
                         ole dab!

               RUTHIE AND WINFIELD, though they are shoveling it in, are 
               grinning at Grampa.

                              (in a snickering 
                              whisper to Winfield)
                         Ain't he messy though!

                         I seen him!--gobblin' away like an 
                         ole pig!

                         Whyn't you keep your eyes shet durin' 
                         grace, you ole...

               NOAH is solemnly studying a handbill. Over his shoulder the 
               HANDBILL can be read: "800 PICKERS WANTED--WORK IN CALIFORNIA"

               We see NOAH AND UNCLE JOHN.

                              (who is a half-wit)
                         What's it say again?

                         Says plenty work in California--
                         peaches. Eight hundred pickers needed.

               Noah frowns at the print.

                              (who has mush on his 
                         Wait'll I get to California! Gonna 
                         reach up and pick me an orange 
                         whenever I want it! Or grapes. That 
                         there's somethin' I ain't *never* 
                         had enough of! Gonna get me a whole 
                         bunch a grapes off a bush and I'm 
                         gonna squash 'em all over my face 
                         and just let the juice dreen down 
                         offen my chin!

                              (in a feeble bleat)
                         Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory!

                         Maybe I get me a whole *washtub* 
                         fulla them grapes and jest sit in 
                         'em and scrooge around till they was 
                         I shore would like to do that!

               RUTHIE AND WINFIELD are snickering. Ruthie has smeared her 
               face with mush. She pulls Winfield around to see.

                         Look. I'm Grampa!

               She begins to slobber in mimicry. Winfield snickers. At that 
               instant Ma enters, unobserved, and without a word give Ruthie 
               a fine wallop. Nobody else pays any attention to the slap as 
               Ma, a bucket in her hand, moves on toward the door. We see 
               her now in the BACKYARD, first at the door, then moving toward 
               the well. She stops dead still, her eyes gazing outward.

               TOM is looking at the household goods piled around the yard, 
               to be taken to California. Casy is in the background. Then 
               Tom looks up and see Ma (out of the scene). His face softens. 
               He moves toward her.

                              (softly--her eyes 
                         Thank God. Oh thank God.
                              (In sudden terror as 
                              he approaches)
                         Tommy, you didn't *bust* out, didya? 
                         You ain't got to hide, have you?

                         No, Ma. I'm paroled. I got my papers.

               With a sigh and a smile, and her eyes full of wonder, she 
               feels his arm. Her fingers touch his cheek, as if she were 
               blind. Swelling with emotion, Tom bites his lip to control 

                         I was so scared we was goin' away 
                         without you--and we'd never see each 
                         other again.

                         I'd a found you, Ma.

               CASY, with great politeness, turns his back to the scene and 
               keeps well away from it.

               TOM now looks around at the dusty furniture piled around the 

                         Muley tol' me what happened, Ma. Are 
                         we goin' to California true?

                         We *got* to, Tommy. But that's gonna 
                         be awright. I seen the han'bills, 
                         about how much work they is, an' 
                         high wages, too. But I gotta fin' 
                         out somepin' else first, Tommy.
                         Did they hurt you, son? Did they 
                         hurt you an' make you mean-mad?

                         Mad, Ma?

                         Sometimes they do.

                         No, Ma I was at first--but not no 

                              (not yet quite 
                         Sometimes they do somethin' to you, 
                         Tommy. They hurt you--and you get 
                         mad--and then you get mean--and they 
                         hurt you again--and you get meaner, 
                         and meaner--till you ain't no boy or 
                         no man any more, but just a walkin' 
                         chunk a mean-mad. Did they hurt you 
                         like that, Tommy?

                         No, Ma. You don't have to worry about 

                         Thank God. I--I don't want no mean 
                              (She loves him with 
                              her eyes)

               At the DOOR, Pa is staring toward them, his mouth open.

                              (almost to himself)
                         It's Tommy!
                              (Then shouting inside)
                         It's Tommy back!
                              (Heading for Tom)
                         What'd you do, son--bust out?

               INSIDE UNCLE JOHN'S CABIN, all but Granma are staring toward 
               the door. Then all but Granma scramble to their feet, headed 
               for the door.

                                     WINFIELD AND RUTHIE
                              (in an excited chant)
                         Tom's outa ja-ul! Tom's outa ja-ul!

                         I knowed it! Couldn't keep him in! 
                         Can't keep a Joad in! I knowed it 
                         from the fust!

               The children and Grampa scramble out first, followed hurriedly 
               but less rowdily by Uncle John and Noah. Granma, aware only 
               that there is some excitement, looks interestedly after them 
               but decides against any activity.

                         Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory!
                              (she resumes eating)

               In the BACKYARD, the prodigal son, mother and father proudly 
               beside him, is having his hand wrung by Grampa, who vainly 
               tries to button various buttons of his shirt, as always. The 
               two children jump up and down excitedly but are too shy to 
               force themselves into the reception.

                              (to Pa)
                         You know what I al'ays said: "Tom'll 
                         come bustin' outa that jail like a 
                         bull through a corral fence." Can't 
                         keep no Joad in jail!

                         I didn't bust out. They lemme out. 
                         Howya, Noah. Howya, Uncle John.

                                     NOAH AND JOHN
                         Fine, Tommy. Glad to see you.

                              (to anybody)
                         I was the same way myself. Put me in 
                         jail and I'd bust right out. Couldn't 
                         hold me!

               As Tom chucks the two children under the chin, the rattling 
               roar of a jalopy causes all to turn to look.

                         Bust out?

                              (shaking his head)

               The roar increases. A home-built TRUCK comes around the corner 
               of the house. Once a Hudson sedan, the top has been cut in 
               two and a truck body constructed. It is driven now by Al, 
               and on the front seat with him are Rosasharn and Connie. The 
               arrival, as the truck moves into the yard, increases the 
               excitement, and the scene is a little incoherent with the 
               talking and shouting and the noise of the jalopy.

                                     AL AND ROSASHARN
                         Hi, Tom! Howya doin'?

                              (surprised and pleased)
                         Rosasharn! Hi, Rosasharn! Howya, Al!

                         The jailbird's back! The jailbird's 

                         Hi, Ma! Hi, Connie! Hiya, Grampa!

                              (to Tom)
                         That's Connie Rivers with her. They're 
                         married now.
                         She's due about three-four months.

                         Why, she wasn't no more'n a kid when 
                         I went up.

                              (eagerly as he jumps 
                         You bust outa jail, Tom?

                         Naw. They paroled me.

                              (let down)

                         Heh'o Tom.
                         This is Connie, my husband.

                              (shaking hands)
                         If this don't beat all!
                         Well, I see you been busy already!

                         You do not see either!--not yet!

               At the whoop of laughter that goes up from all, she turns in 
               a fine simulation of maidenly mortification, and throws 
               herself into Connie's arms, hiding her face against his chest. 
               After a moment of surprise, a slow, happy, fatuous grin begins 
               to broaden his face. He beams, whereupon their delight 
               increases, the men roaring and jeering and slapping their 
               legs, the women making modest efforts to suppress their 

                         Lookut his face! Y'see his face? 
                         Lookut Rosasharn! Y'ever see anything 
                         like her face when Tom said it? Look 
                         around, Rosasharn! Let's see it again!

               An automobile horn sounds sharply. Their laughter halted as 
               though cut by a knife, they look off. A TOURING CAR has 
               stopped in the road by the house, the engine still running. 
               One man drives, the other talks.

                         Hey, Joad! John Joad!

               In the BACKYARD the people are silent, their faces without 
               expression, as all gaze toward the touring car.

                         Ain't forgot, have you?

                         We ain't forgot.

                         Comin' through here tomorrow, you 

                         I know. We be out. We be out by sunup.

               The touring car's engine is still heard after the men drive 
               off. The Joads watch the car, their heads turning, their 
               eyes following, expressionless.

               The scene dissolves to the BACKYARD just before dawn. Now 
               and then a rooster crows. A couple of lanterns light the 
               scene as the man load the truck. It is nearly done, the body 
               piled high but flat with boxes, and more tied on running 
               boards. Al has the hood open and is working on the motor.

               Noah, Casy, Uncle John, Connie, Pa, and Tom are at various 
               tasks. They talk as they work.

                              (to Pa)
                         How you get all this money?

                         Sol' things, chopped cotton--even 
                         Grampa. Got us about two hunnerd 
                         dollars all tol'. Shucked out seventy-
                         five for this truck, but we still 
                         got nearly a hunnerd and fifty to 
                         set out on. I figger we oughta be 
                         able to make it on that.

                         Easy. After all, they ain't but about 
                         *twelve* of us, is they?

                              (proudly closing the 
                         She'll prob'ly ride like a bull calf--
                         but she'll ride!

                         Reckon we better begin roustin' 'em 
                         out if we aim to get outa here by 
                         daylight. How about it, John? How 
                         you boys comin'?
                              (He casts a critical 
                              eye over the truck)

               INSIDE THE CABIN, Ma sits on a box in front of the stove. 
               The fire door is open and the light shines out. The room 
               itself has been pretty well stripped, with only trash and 
               discarded things left. In Ma's lap is a pasteboard shoebox 
               and she is going through the meager treasures stored in it, 
               to see what must go and what she can take with her. Her eyes 
               are soft and thoughtful as each item brings a memory, but 
               not sad. Occasionally she smiles faintly. She pulls out a 
               letter, looks at it, starts to throw it into the fire, then 
               puts it back in the box. Her hand pulls out a PICTURE 
               POSTCARD. We see it in Ma's hand. It is a picture of the 
               Statue Of Liberty. Over it: "Greetings from New York City." 
               She turns it over. It is addressed: "Mrs. Joad RFD 254 
               Oklahomy Territory." In the space for a message: "Hello honey. 
               Willy Mae."

               MA, after a moment of studying it, throws the card into the 
               fire. She lifts the letter again, puts it back. She pulls 
               out a worn NEWSPAPER CLIPPING. We see it in Ma's hand. The 
               headline is: "JOAD GETS SEVEN YEARS."

               MA drops the clipping into the fire. Rummaging around, she 
               pulls out a small CHINA DOG. We see it closely as before. On 
               it is printed: "Souvenir of Louisiana Purchase Exposition--
               St. Louis--1904."

               MA studies the dog, smiling, remembering something that it 
               meant in her life. Then she puts in in a pocket in her dress. 
               Next she pulls out some pieces of cheap jewelry; one cuff 
               link, a baby's signet ring, two earrings. She smiles at the 
               ring, then pockets it. The cuff link too. The earrings she 
               holds for a moment longer, then looks around to make sure 
               nobody sees, then holds them to her ears, not looking into 
               any kind of a mirror, just feeling them against the lobes of 
               her ears, as once perhaps she wore them. Her eyes are grave.

                              (from the door)
                         How about it, Ma?

                         I'm ready.

               Tom disappears. Ma looks at the earrings, and then at the 
               contents of the box. She lifts out the letter again and looks 
               at it. Then, without drama, she drops it into the fire. She 
               watches it burn. Her eyes are still on the flame as she calls.

                         Rosasharn honey! Wake up the chillun. 
                         We're fixin' to leave.

               The flame dies down.

               In the BACKYARD it is grey dawn. There is a thrill of quiet 
               excitement as they all stand around the loaded truck, hats 
               on, putting on coats. The ones missing are Ma, Rosasharn, 
               the children, and Grampa. Pa is in charge.

                              (as Ma comes out of 
                              the cabin)
                         Where's Grampa? Al, go git him.

                              (trying to climb in 
                              the front seat)
                         I'm gonna sit up front! Somebody 
                         he'p me!

               Tom easily lifts her up the step. The two children come 
               running out of the house, chanting.

                                     RUTHIE AND WINFIELD
                         Goin' to California! Goin' to 

                         You kids climb up first, on top.
                              (all obey as he directs)
                         Al's gonna drive, Ma. You sit up 
                         there with him and Granma and we'll 
                         swap around later.

                         I ain't gonna sit with Grampa!

                         Connie, you he'p Rosasharn up there 
                         alongside Ruthie and Winfiel'.
                              (Looking around)
                         Where's Grampa?

                              (with a cackle)
                         Where he al'ays is, prob'ly!

                         Well, leave him a place, but Noah, 
                         you and John, y'all kinda find 
                         yourself a place--kinda keep it even 
                         all around.

               All have obeyed and are aboard but Pa, Tom, and Casy, who is 
               watching the springs flatten out.

                         Think she'll hold?

                         If she does it'll be a miracle outa 

                                     GRAMPA'S VOICE
                         Lemmo go, gol dang it! Lemmo go, I 
                         tell you!

               All turn. In a CORNER OF THE HOUSE Al is pulling Grampa gently 
               but firmly, the old man holding back, and furious. He flails 
               feebly at Al, who holds his head out of the way without 

                         He wasn't sleepin'. He was settin' 
                         out back a the barn. They's somepin' 
                         wrong with him.

                         Ef you don't let me go--

               Al permits Grampa to jerk loose and sit down on the doorstep. 
               The old man is miserable and frightened and angry, too old 
               to understand or accept such a violent change in his life.  
               Tom and Pa come up to him. The others watch solemnly from 
               their places in the truck.

                         What's the matter, Grampa?

                              (dully, sullenly)
                         Ain't nothin' the matter. I just 
                         ain't a-goin', that's all.

                         What you mean you ain't goin'? We 
                         *got* to go. We got no place to stay.

                         I ain't talkin' about you, I'm talkin' 
                         about me. And I'm a-stayin'. I give 
                         her a good goin' over all night long--
                         and I'm a-stayin'.

                         But you can't *do* that, Grampa. 
                         This here land is goin' under the 
                         tractor. We *all* got to git out.

                         All but me! I'm a-stayin'.

                         How 'bout Granma?

                         Take her with you!

                              (getting out of the 
                         But who'd cook for you? How'd you 

                         Muley's livin', ain't he? And I'm 
                         *twicet* the man Muley is!

                              (on his knee)
                         Now listen, Grampa. Listen to me, 
                         just a minute.

                         And I ain't gonna listen either. I 
                         tol' you what I'm gonna do.
                         And I don't give a hoot in a hollow 
                         if they's oranges and grapes crowdin' 
                         a fella outa bed even, I ain't a-
                         goin' to California!
                              (Picking up some dirt)
                         This here's my country. I b'long 
                              (Looking at the dirt)
                         It ain't no good--
                              (after a pause)
                         --but it's mine.

                              (after a silence)
                         Ma. Pa.
                              (They move toward the 
                              cabin with him)
                         Grampa, his eyes hurt and hunted and 
                         frightened and bewildered, scratches 
                         in the dirt.

                         And can't nobody *make* me go, either! 
                         Ain't nobody here *man* enough to 
                         make me! I'm a-stayin'.

               All watch him worriedly.

               INSIDE THE CABIN:

                         Either we got to tie him up and 
                         *throw* him on the truck, or somepin. 
                         He can't stay here.

                         Can't tie him. Either we'll hurt him 
                         or he'll git so mad he'll hurt his 
                              (After thought)
                         Reckon we could git him *drunk*?

                         Ain't no whisky, is they?

                         Wait. There's a half a bottle a 
                         soothin' sirup here.
                              (In the trash in the 
                         It put the chillun to sleep.

                              (tasting it)
                         Don't taste bad.

                              (looking in the pot)
                         And they's some coffee here. I could 
                         fix him a cup...

                         That's right. And douse some in it.

                         Better give him a good 'un. He's 
                         awful bull-headed.

               Ma is already pouring coffee into a can as GRAMPA is seen.

                              (mumbling defiantly)
                         If Muley can scrabble along, I can 
                         do it too.
                              (Suddenly sniffing)
                         I smell spareribs. Somebody been 
                         eatin' spareribs? How come I ain't 
                         got some?

                              (from the door)
                         Got some saved for you, Grampa. Got 
                         'em warmin' now. Here's a cuppa 

                              (taking the cup)
                         Awright, but get me some a them 
                         spareribs, too. Get me a whole mess 
                         of 'em. I'm hongry.

               He drinks the coffee. Pa and Tom watch him. He notices 
               nothing. He takes another dram of the coffee.

                         I shore do like spareribs.

               He drinks again.

               The scene dissolves to the TRUCK. It is just after dawn. Pa, 
               Tom, and Noah are lifting Grampa into the truck. He mumbles 
               angrily, but is unconscious of what is happening.

                         Easy, *easy!* You wanta bust his 
                         head wide open? Pull his arms, John.

                         Ain't a-goin', thas all...

                         Put somepin' over him, so he won't 
                         git sun-struck.
                              (Looking around)
                         Ever'body set now?
                              (A chorus of responses)
                         Awright, Al, letta go!

               The engine rattles and roars shakily. Grinning with 
               excitement, Pa sits down and pats Grampa clumsily.

                         You be awright, Grampa.

               The truck starts to move heavily. Casy stands watching it.

                         Good-by, an' good luck.

                         Hey, wait! Hold 'er, Al!
                              (The car stops)
                         Ain't you goin' with us?

                              (after a pause)
                         I'd like to. There's somethin' 
                         happenin' out there in the wes' an' 
                         I'd like to try to learn what it is. 
                         If you feel you got the room...

               He stops politely. Pa looks from one face to the other in 
               the truck--a swift, silent canvass--and though no one speaks 
               or gives any other sign, Pa knows that the vote is yes.

                         Come on, get on, plenty room!

                         Sure, come on, Casy, plenty room!

               Quickly he climbs aboard. The truck rattles into motion again.

                         Here we go!

                         California, here we come!

               As they all look back the deserted CABIN is seen from the 
               departing truck.

               Now we see the FAMILY IN THE TRUCK, as it snorts and rattles 
               toward the road--a study of facial expressions as the Joad 
               family look back for the last time at their home. Connie and 
               Rosasharn, whispering, giggling, and slappings, are oblivious 
               of the event. Ruthie and Winfield are trembling with 
               excitement. But Tom's and Pa's smiles have disappeared, and 
               all the men are gazing back thoughtfully and soberly, their 
               minds occupied with the solemnity of this great adventure.

               In the FRONT SEAT OF THE TRUCK. Al is driving. Granma is 
               already dozing. Ma looks steadily ahead.

                         Ain't you gonna look back, Ma?--give 
                         the ol' place a last look?

                              (coldly shaking her 
                         We're goin' to California, ain't we? 
                         Awright then, let's *go* to 

                         That don't sound like you, Ma. You 
                         never was like that before.

                         I never had my house pushed over 
                         before. I never had my fambly stuck 
                         out on the road. I never had to 
                         lose... ever'thing I had in life.

               She continues to stare straight ahead. The TRUCK is lumbering 
               up onto a paved highway.

               The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: Almost filling the screen 
               is the shield marker of the U.S. Highway 66. Superimposed on 
               it is a montage of jalopies, steaming and rattling and piled 
               high with goods and people, as they pull onto the highway, 
               to indicate as much as possible that this departure of the 
               Joad family is but part of a mass movement of jalopies and 
               families. The signs of towns on U.S. Highway 66 flash past--

               This dissolves to a HIGHWAY. It is late afternoon. The Joad 
               truck pulls of the paved highway and stops. The men leap 
               down quickly from the truck, all but Pa, who lifts Grampa in 
               his arms and then lowers him slowly, gently into Tom's arms.

               In TOM'S arms Grampa is whimpering feebly.

                         *Ain't* a-goin'... ain't a-goin'...

                         'S all right, Grampa. You just kind 
                         a tar'd, that's all. Somebody fix a 

               With a quilt pulled from the truck Ma runs ahead as Tom 
               carries Grampa toward a clump of woods back off the highway. 
               The others get down soberly from the truck, all but Granma, 
               who is dozing. Cars pass-a fast car passing a jalopy. Tom is 
               letting the old man down gently as Ma adjusts the quilt on 
               the ground. Death is in Grampa's eyes as he looks up dimly 
               at them.

                              (a whisper)
                         Thas it, jus' tar'd thas all... jus' 
                              (He closes his eyes)

               The scene dissolves to an insert of a NOTE. It is written 
               awkwardly in pencil on the flyleaf of a Bible. Tom's voice 
               recites the words.

                                     TOM'S VOICE
                         This here is William James Joad, 
                         dyed of a stroke, old old man. His 
                         folkes bured him becaws they got no 
                         money to pay for funerls. Nobody 
                         kilt him. Jus a stroke an he dyed.

               A GRAVE, at night. In the clump of woods, lighted by two 
               lanterns, The Joad tribe stands reverently around an open 
               grave. Having read the note, Tom puts it in a small fruit 
               jar and kneels down and, reaching into the grave, places it 
               on Grampa's body.

                         I figger best we leave something 
                         like this on him, lest somebody dig 
                         him up and make out he been kilt.
                              (Reaching into the 
                         Lotta times looks like the gov'ment 
                         got more interest in a dead man than 
                         a live one.

                         Not be so lonesome, either, knowin' 
                         his name is there with 'im, not just' 
                         a old fella lonesome underground.

                              (straightening up)
                         Casy, won't you say a few words?

                         I ain't no more a preacher, you know.

                         We know. But ain't none of our folks 
                         ever been buried without a few words.

                              (after a pause)
                         I'll say 'em--an' make it short.
                              (All bow and close 
                         This here ol' man jus' lived a life 
                         an' jus' died out of it. I don't 
                         know whether he was good or bad, an' 
                         it don't matter much. Heard a fella 
                         say a poem once, an' he says, "All 
                         that lives is holy." But I wouldn't 
                         pray for jus' a ol' man that's dead, 
                         because he's awright. If I was to 
                         pray I'd pray for the folks that's 
                         alive an' don't know which way to 
                         turn. Grampa here, he ain't got no 
                         more trouble like that. He's got his 
                         job all cut out for 'im--so cover 
                         'im up and let 'im get to it.


               The scene fades out.

               HIGHWAY 66, in daylight, fades in: an Oklahoma stretch, 
               revealing a number of jalopies rattling westward. The Joad 
               truck approaches.

               In the FRONT SEAT OF THE TRUCK Tom is now driving. Granma is 
               dozing again, and Ma is looking thoughtfully ahead.


                         What is it, Ma?

                         Wasn't that the state line we just 

                              (after a pause)
                         Yes'm, that was it.

                         Your pa tol' me you didn't ought to 
                         cross it if you're paroled. Says 
                         they'll send you up again.

                         Forget it, Ma. I got her figgered 
                         out. Long as I keep outa trouble, 
                         ain't nobody gonna say a thing. All 
                         I gotta do is keep my nose clean.

                         Maybe they got crimes in California 
                         we don't know about. Crimes we don't 
                         even know *is* crimes.

                         Forget it, Ma. Jus' think about the 
                         nice things out there. Think about 
                         them grapes and oranges--an' ever'body 
                         got work--

                              (waking suddenly)
                         I gotta git out!

                         First gas station, Granma--

                         I gotta git *out*, I tell ya! I gotta 
                         git *out*!

                              (foot on brakes)
                         Awright! Awright!

               As the truck slows to a stop a motorcycle cop approaches 
               after them. Looking back, Tom sees him bearing toward them. 
               He looks grimly at Ma.

                         They shore don't waste no time!
                              (As Granma whines)
                         Take her out.

                              (astraddle his 
                         Save your strength, lady.
                              (to Tom)
                         Get goin', buddy. No campin' here.

                         We ain't campin'. We jus' stoppin' a 

                         Lissen, I heard that before--

                         I tell ya I gotta git out!

               The cop looks startled, puzzled, but Tom shrugs a disclaimer 
               for responsibility in that quarter.

                         She's kinda ol'--

                         I tell ya--

                         Okay, okay!

                         Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory!

               As Ma helps Granma out the other side, Tom and the cop 
               exchange a glance and snother shrug at the foibles of women 
               and then look studiedly into space.

               The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: superimposed on the marker 
               of U.S. Highway 66 an assortment of roadside signs flashes 
               by: Bar-B-Q, Joe's Eats, Dr. Pepper, Gas, Coca Cola, This 
               Highway is Patrolled, End of 25 Mile Zone, Lucky Strikes, 
               Used Cars, Nutburger, Motel, Drive-Inn, Free Water, We Fix 
               Flats, etc.

               A HAND-PAINTED SIGN reads: "CAMP 50." It is night. We hear 
               the sound of guitar music. In the CAMP GROUND a small wooden 
               house dominates the scene. There are no facilities; the 
               migrants simply pitch makeshift tents and park their jalopies 
               wherever there is a space. It is after supper and a dozen or 
               more men sit on the steps of the house listening to Connie 
               play a road song on a borrowed guitar. The music softens the 
               tired, drawn faces of the men and drives away some of their 
               shyness. In the dark, outside the circle of light from the 
               gasoline lantern on the porch, some of the women and children 
               sit and enjoy the luxury of this relative gaiety. The 
               proprietor sits tipped back in a straight chair on the porch.

               We see the JOAD TENT. Behind their truck, a tarpaulin is 
               stretched over a rope from tree to tree. Granma lies asleep 
               on a quilt, stirring fitfully. Ma sits on the ground at her 
               head, fanning her with a piece of cardboard. Rosasharn lies 
               flat on her back, hands clasped under her head, looking up 
               at the stars. The music comes to them pleasantly.

                         Ma... all this, will it hurt the 

                         Now don't you go gettin' nimsy-mimsy.

                         Sometimes I'm all jumpy inside.

                         Well, can't nobody get through nine 
                         *months* without sorrow.

                         But will it--hurt the baby?

                         They use' to be a sayin': A chile 
                         born outa sorrow'll be a happy chile. 
                         An' another: Born outa too much joy'll 
                         be a doleful boy. That's the way I 
                         always heard it.

                         You don't ever get scairt, do you, 

                         Sometimes. A little. Only it ain't 
                         scairt so much. It's just waitin' 
                         an' wonderin'. But when sump'n happens 
                         that I got to do sump'n--
                         --I'll do it.

                         Don't it ever scare you it won't be 
                         nice in California like we think?

                         No. No, it don't. I can't do that. I 
                         can't let m'self. All I can do is 
                         see how soon they gonna wanta eat 
                         again. They'd all get upset if I 
                         done anymore 'n that. They all depen' 
                         on me jus' thinkin' about that.
                              (After a pause)
                         That's my part--that an' keepin' the 
                         fambly together.

               As the music ends we see a GROUP ON THE PORCH STEPS. The men 
               murmur approbation of Connie's playing.

                              (with quiet pride)
                         Thas my son-in-law.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         Sings real nice. What state y'all 

                         Oklahoma. Had us a farm there, share-

                         Till the tractors druv us out.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         We from Arkansas. I had me a store 
                         there, kind of general notions store, 
                         but when the farms went the store 
                         went too.
                         Nice a little as you ever saw. I 
                         shore did hate to give it up.

                         Wal, y'cain't tell. I figure when we 
                         git out there an' git work an' maybe 
                         git us a piece a growin' lan' near 
                         water it might not be so bad at that.

                                     OTHER MEN
                         Thas right... Payin' good wages, I 
                         hear... Ever'body got work out 
                         there... Can't be no worse...

               As they talk, a SECOND MAN, standing on the edge of the group, 
               begins to grin bitterly. He is much more ragged than the 

                                     SECOND MAN
                         You folks must have a pot a money.

               The GROUP turns to look at the Man.

                              (with dignity)
                         No, we ain't got no money. But they's 
                         plenty of us to work, an' we 're all 
                         good men. Get good wages out there 
                         an' put it all together an' we'll be 

               The Man begins to snigger and then to laugh in a high 
               whinneying giggle which turns into a fit of coughing. All of 
               the men are watching him.

                                     SECOND MAN
                         Good wages, eh! Pickin' oranges an' 

                         We gonna take whatever they got.

                         What's so funny about it?

                                     SECOND MAN
                              (sniggering again)
                         What's so funny about it?  I just 
                         *been* out there! I been an' *seen* 
                         it! An' I'm goin' *back* to starve--
                         because I ruther starve all over at 

                         Whatta you think you're talkin' about? 
                         I got a han'bill here says good wages, 
                         an' I seen it in the papers they 
                         need pickers!

                                     SECOND MAN
                         Awright, go on! Ain't nobody stoppin' 

                              (pulling out handbill)
                         But what about this?

                                     SECOND MAN
                         I ain't gonna fret you. Go on!

                         Wait a minute, buddy. You jus' done 
                         some jackassin'! You ain't gonna 
                         shut up now. The han'bill says they 
                         need men. You laugh an' say they 
                         don't. Now which one's a liar?

                                     SECOND MAN
                              (after a pause)
                         How many you'all got them han'bills? 
                         Come on, how many?

               At least three-quarters of the men worriedly reach into their 
               pockets and draw out worn and folded handbills.

                         But what does *that* prove?

                                     SECOND MAN
                         Look at 'em! Same yella han'bill--
                         800 pickers wanted. Awright, this 
                         man wants 800 men. So he prints up 
                         5,000 a them han'bills an' maybe 
                         20,000 people sees 'em. An' maybe 
                         two-three thousan' starts movin, 
                         wes' account a this han'bill. Two-
                         three thousan' folks that's crazy 
                         with worry headin' out for 800 jobs! 
                         Does that make sense?

               There is a long worried silence. The proprietor leans forward 

                         What are you, a troublemaker? You 
                         sure you ain't one a them labor fakes?

                                     SECOND MAN
                         I swear I ain't, mister!

                         Well, don't you go roun' here tryin' 
                         to stir up trouble.

                                     SECOND MAN
                              (drawing himself up)
                         I tried to tell you folks sump'n it 
                         took me a year to fin' out. Took two 
                         kids dead, took my wife dead, to 
                         show me. But nobody couldn't tell me 
                         neither. I can't tell ya about them 
                         little fellas layin' in the tent 
                         with their bellies puffed out an' 
                         jus' skin on their bones, an' 
                         shiverin' an' whinin' like pups, an' 
                         me runnin' aroun' tryin' to get work--
                         --not for money, not for wages--jus' 
                         for a cup a flour an' a spoon a lard! 
                         An' then the coroner came. "Them 
                         children died a heart-failure," he 
                         says, an' put it in his paper.
                              (With wild bitterness)
                         Heart-failure!--an' their little 
                         bellies stuck out like a pig-bladder!

               He looks around at the men, trying to control his emotions, 
               and then he walks away into the darkness. There is an uneasy 

                                     FIRST MAN
                         Well--gettin' late. Got to get to 

               They all rise as at a signal, all moved and worried by the 
               Second Man's outburst. TOM, PA AND CASY move away, worry on 
               their faces.

                         S'pose he's tellin' the truth--that 

                         He's tellin' the truth awright. The 
                         truth for him. He wasn't makin' 
                         nothin' up.

                         How about us? Is that the truth for 

                         I don't know.

                         How can you tell?

               The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE: superimposed on the shield 
               marker of U.S. Highway 66 and the rattling Joad truck the 
               signs of towns flash by: AMARILLO, VEGA, GLENRIO.

               The TRUCK is seen on the HIGHWAY. It is now mountain country--
               New Mexico. Then it is seen at a GAS STATION. It is a cheap 
               two-pump station, hand-painted, dreary, dusty. Huddled next 
               to it is a hamburger stand. In front of the hamburger stand 
               is a truck labeled: NEW MEXICO VAN AND STORAGE COMPANY. The 
               Joads are piling out of their truck. Directed by Ma, Noah 
               lifts Granma out. The two children scamper around shrieking 
               because their legs have gone to sleep. Al is preparing to 
               put water in the radiator. Pa takes out a deep leather pouch, 
               unties the strings, and begins calculating his money as the 
               fat proprietor advances.

                                     FAT MAN
                         You folks aim to buy anything?

                         Need some gas, mister.

                                     FAT MAN
                         Got any money?

                         Whatta you think:--we's beggin'?

                                     FAT MAN
                         I just ast, that's all.

                         Well, ask right. You ain't talkin' 
                         to bums, you know.

                                     FAT MAN
                              (appealing to heaven)
                         All in the worl' I done was ast!

               INSIDE THE HAMBURGER STAND, a standard cheap eatery, Bert is 
               doing the short orders and Mae is handling the counter. A 
               nickel phonograph is playing a tune. Bill, a truck driver, 
               sits at the counter; his partner, Fred, is playing a slot 

                         Kinda pie y'got?

                         Banana cream, pineapple cream, 
                         chocolate cream--and apple.

                         Cut me off a hunk a that banana cream, 
                         and a cuppa java.

                         Make it two.

                         Two it is.
                         Seen any new etchin's lately, Bill?

                         Well, here's one ain't bad. Little 
                         kid comes in late to school. Teacher 

               He stops. Pa is peering in the screen door. Beside him Ruthie 
               and Winfield have their noses flattened against the screen. 
               Mae looks at Pa.


                         Could you see your way clear to sell 
                         us a loaf of bread, ma'am.

                         This ain't a groc'ry store. We got 
                         bread to make san'widges with.

                         I know, ma'am... on'y it's for a ole 
                         lady, no teeth, gotta sof'n it with 
                         water so she can chew it, an' she's 

                         Whyn't you buy a san'wich? We got 
                         nice san'widges.

                         I shore would like to do that, ma'am, 
                         but the fack is, we ain't got but a 
                         dime for it. It's all figgered out, 
                         I mean--for the trip.

                         You can't get no loaf a bread for a 
                         dime. We only got fifteen-cent loafs.

                              (an angry whisper)
                         Give 'em the bread.

                         We'll run out 'fore the bread truck 

                         Awright then, run out!

               Mae shrugs at the truck drivers, to indicate what she's up 
               against, while Bert mashes his hamburgers savagely with the 

                         Come in.

               Pa and the two children come in as Mae opens a drawer and 
               pulls out a long waxpaper-covered loaf of bread. The children 
               have been drawn to the candy showcase and are staring in at 
               the goodies.

                         This here's a fifteen-cent loaf.

                         Would you--could you see your way to 
                         cuttin' off ten cents worth?

                              (a clinched teeth 
                         Give 'im the loaf!

                         No, sir, we wanta buy ten cents worth, 
                         thas all.

                         You can have this for ten cents.

                         I don't wanta rob you, ma'am.

                              (with resignation)
                         Go ahead--Bert says take it.

               Taking out his pouch, Pa digs into it, feels around with his 
               fingers for a dime, as he apologizes.

                         May soun' funny to be so tight, but 
                         we got a thousan' miles to go, an' 
                         we don't know if we'll make it.

               But when he puts the dime down on the counter he has a penny 
               with it. He is about to drop this back in the pouch when his 
               eyes fall on the children staring at the candy. Slowly he 
               moves down to see what they are looking at. Then:

                         Is them penny candy, ma'am?

               The children look up with a gasp, their big eyes on Mae as 
               she moves down behind the counter.

                         Which ones?

                         There, them stripy ones.

               Mae looks from the candy to the children. They have stopped 
               breathing, their eyes on the candy.

                         Oh, them? Well, no--them's *two* for 
                         a penny.

                         Well, give me two then, ma'am.

               He places the penny carefully on the counter and Mae holds 
               the sticks of candy out to the children. They look up at Pa.

                         Sure, take 'em, take 'em!

               Rigid with embarrassment, they accept the candy, looking 
               neither at it nor at each other. Pa picks up the loaf of 
               bread and they scramble for the door. At the door Pa turns 

                         Thank you, ma'am.

               The door slams. Bill turns back from staring after them.

                         Them wasn't two-for-a-cent candy.

                         What's it to you?

                         Them was nickel apiece candy.

                         We got to get goin'. We're droppin' 

               Both reach in their pockets, but when Fred sees what Bill 
               has put down he reaches again and duplicates it. As they go 
               out of the door...

                         So long.

                         Hey, wait a minute. You got change 

                                     BILL'S VOICE
                              (from outside)
                         What's it to you?

               As Mae watches them through the window, her eyes warm, Bert 
               walks around the counter to the three slot machines, a paper 
               with figures on it in his hand. The truck roars outside and 
               moves off. Mae looks down again at the coins.


                              (playing a machine)
                         What ya want?

                         Look here.

               As he looks we see the COINS ON THE COUNTER. They are two 

                         Truck drivers.

               There is a rattle of coins as Bert hits the jackpot. In his 
               left hand on the machine is a paper with three columns of 
               figures on it. The third column is much the longest. He scoops 
               out the money.

                         I figgered No. 3 was about ready to 
                         pay off.

               The scene fades out.

               The ARIZONA BORDER, in daylight, fades in. It is in a gap in 
               the mountains and beyond can be seen the Painted Desert. A 
               border guard halts the Joad truck. He is not as tough as his 
               words indicate, just curt and matter-of-fact.

                         Where you going?

                              (who is driving)

                         How long you plan to be in Arizona?

                         No longer'n we can get acrost her.

                         Got any plants?

                         No plants.

                              (putting sticker on 
                         Okay. Go ahead, but you better keep 

                         Sure. We aim to.

               The truck rattles into movement.

               The scene dissolves to a MONTAGE superimposed on the shield 
               marker of U.S. Highway 66 and the Joad truck. Signs flash 
               by: FLAGSTAFF, WATER 5 A GAL, WATER 10 A GAL, WATER 15 A 
               GAL, and finally, NEEDLES, CALIF.

               In the foreground, their backs turned, the Joads stand on 
               and about their truck looking in a long silence at what can 
               be seen of California from Needles. Their silence is eloquent. 
               The faces of the Joads are blank with dismay, for this is an 
               unattractive sight indeed.

                         There she is, folks--the land a milk 
                         an' honey--California!

                         Well, if *that's* what we come out 
                         here for...

               They look at each other in disappointment.

                              (timidly, to Connie)
                         Maybe it's nice on the other side. 
                         Them pitchers--them little pos'cards--
                         they was real pretty.

                              (rallying them)
                         Aw, sure. This here's jus' a part of 
                         it. Ain't no sense a gettin' scairt 
                         right off.

                         Course not. Come on, let's get goin'. 
                         She don't look so tough to me!

               The Joads and the landscape are seen again. Then the scene 
               dissolves to the BANK OF A RIVER. The camp at Needles is on 
               the bank of the Colorado River, among some willows. We see 
               the man of the family sitting chest-deep in the shallow 
               waters, talking, occasionally ducking their heads under, 
               reveling in this relief. In the background are the towering 

                         Got that desert yet. Gotta take her 
                         tonight. Take her in the daytime 
                         fella says she'll cut your gizzard 

                              (to Al)
                         How's Granma since we got her in the 

                         She's off her chump, seems to me.

                         She's outa her senses, awright. All 
                         night on the truck keep talkin' like 
                         she was talkin' to Grampa.

                         She's jus' wore out, that's all.

                         I shore would like to stop here a 
                         while an' give her some res' but we 
                         on'y got 'bout forty dollars left. I 
                         won't feel right till we're there 
                         an' all workin' an' a little money 
                         comin' in.

                              (lazily, after a 
                         Like to jus' stay here myself. Like 
                         to lay here forever. Never get hungry 
                         an' never get sad. Lay in the water 
                         all life long, lazy as a brood sow 
                         in the mud.

                              (looking up at the 
                         Never seen such tough mountains. 
                         This here's a murder country, just 
                         the *bones* of a country.
                         Wonder if we'll ever get in a place 
                         where folks can live 'thout fightin' 
                         hard scrabble an' rock. Sometimes 
                         you get to thinkin' they *ain't* no 
                         such country.

               They look up as a man and his grown son stand on the bank.

                         How's the swimmin'?

                         Dunno. We ain't tried none. Sure 
                         feels good to set here, though.

                         Mind if we come in an' set?

                         She ain't our river. But we'll len' 
                         you a little piece of her.

               They start to shuck off their clothes. THE MAN, excluding 
               those undressing, form another scene.

                         Goin' west?

                                     MAN'S VOICE
                         Nope. We come from there. Goin' back 

                         Where's home?

                                     MAN'S VOICE
                         Panhandle, come from near Pampa.

                              (in surprise)
                         Can you make a livin' there?

                                     MAN'S VOICE

               The man and his son sit down in the water.

                         But at leas' we can starve to death 
                         with folks we know.

               There is a long silence among the Joads as the man and his 
               son splash water over their heads.

                         Ya know, you're the second fella 
                         talked like that. I'd like to hear 
                         some more about that.

                         Me an' you both.

               The man and his son exchange a glance, as though the Joads 
               had touched on the deadliest of subjects.

                         He ain't gonna tell you nothin' about 

                         If a fella's willin' to work hard, 
                         can't he cut her?

                         Listen, mister. I don't know 
                         ever'thing. You might go out an' 
                         fall into a steady job, an' I'd be a 
                         liar. An' then, you might never get 
                         no work, an' I didn't warn you. All 
                         I can tell ya, most of the folks is 
                         purty mis'able.
                         But a fella don't know ever'thing.

               There is a disturbed silence as the Joads study the man, but 
               he obviously has no intention of saying anything more. Finally 
               Pa turns to his brother.

                         John, you never was a fella to say 
                         much, but I'll be goldanged if you 
                         opened your mouth twicet since we 
                         lef' home. What you think about this?

                         I don't think *nothin'* about it. 
                         We're a-goin' there, ain't we?  When 
                         we get there, we'll get there. When 
                         we get a job, we'll work, an' when 
                         we don't get a job we'll set on our 
                         behin's. That's all they is to it, 
                         ain't it?

                         Uncle John don't talk much but when 
                         he does he shore talks sense.
                              (He spurts water out 
                              of his mouth)

               The scene dissolves to a GAS STATION, at night. The Joad 
               truck, loaded with goods and people, is last gas and servicing 
               before the desert. Two white uniformed boys handle the 
               station. A sign reads: "LAST CHANCE FOR GAS AND WATER." Al 
               is filling the radiator. Tom is counting out the money for 
               the gas.

                                     FIRST BOY
                         You people got a lotta nerve.

                         What you mean?

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Crossin' the desert in a jalopy like 

                         You been acrost?

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Sure, plenty, but not in no wreck 
                         like this.

                         If we broke down maybe somebody'd 
                         give us a han'.

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Well, maybe. But I'd hate to be doin' 
                         it. Takes more nerve than I got.

                         It don't take no nerve to do somep'n 
                         when there ain't nothin' else you 
                         can do.
                              (He climbs into the 
                              driver's seat)

               MA AND GRANMA are seen lying on a mattress in the TRUCK. 
               Granma's eyes are shut. Actually she is near death. Ma keeps 
               patting her.

                         Don't you worry, Granma. It's gonna 
                         be awright.

                         Grampa... Grampa... I want Grampa...

                         Don't you fret now.

               The truck moves off.

               We see the GAS STATION again with the truck pulling away. 
               The First Boy, a lad who knows everything, stands looking 
               after them, shaking his head. His assistant is cleaning up 
               the pumps.

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Holy Moses, what a hard-lookin' 

                                     SECOND BOY
                         All them Okies is hard-lookin'.

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Boy, but I'd hate to hit that desert 
                         in a jalopy like that!

                                     SECOND BOY
                         Well, you and me got sense. Them 
                         Okies got no sense or no feeling. 
                         They ain't human. A human being 
                         wouldn't live like they do. A human 
                         being couldn't stand it to be so 

                                     FIRST BOY
                         Just don't know any better, I guess.

               NOAH is seen hiding behind a corner of the GAS STATION. 
               Peering out, he sees that the truck has gone. He turns to 
               walk away into the darkness.

               The scene dissolves to a RIVER BANK at night, and Noah is 
               once more seated in the shallow water, splashing, looking up 
               at the mountains, content.

               The TRUCK is rattling along U.S. Highway 66, across the 
               desert, in the night. In the DRIVER'S SEAT Tom is driving, 
               Al and Pa are by his side.

                         What a place! How'd you like to walk 
                         acrost her?

                         People done it. If they could, we 

                         Lots must a died, too.

                              (after a pause)
                         Well, we ain't out a it yet.

               RUTHIE AND WINFIELD huddle together in THE TRUCK, eyes wide 
               with excitement.

                         This here's the desert an' we're 
                         right in it!

                              (trying to see)
                         I wisht it was day.

                         Tom says if it's day it'll cut you 
                         gizzard smack out a you.
                              (Trying to see too)
                         I seen a pitcher once. They was bones 

                         Man bones?

                         Some, I guess, but mos'ly cow bones.

               MA AND GRANDMA are seen again. The old woman lies still, 
               breathing noisily. Ma continues to pat her.

                         'S awright, honey. Everything's gonna 
                         be awright.

               Then we see the TRUCK still churning along Highway 66 by 
               night. CASY is asleep in the truck, his face wet with sweat. 
               CONNIE AND ROSASHARN are huddled together, damp and weary.

                         Seems like we wasn't never gonna do 
                         nothin' but move. I'm so tar'd.

                         Women is always tar'd.

                         You ain't--you ain't sorry, are you, 

                         No, but--but you seen that 
                         advertisement in the Spicy Western 
                         Story magazine. Don't pay nothin'. 
                         Jus' send 'em the coupon an' you're 
                         a radio expert--nice clean work.

                         But we can still do it, honey.

                         I ought to done it then--an' not 
                         come on any trip like this.

               Her eyes widen with fright as he avoids meeting her glance.

               MA AND GRANDMA lie side by side. Ma's hand is on Grandma's 
               heart. The old woman's eyes are shut and her breathing is 
               almost imperceptible.

                         We can't give up, honey. The family's 
                         got to get acrost. You know that.

                                     JOHN'S VOICE
                         Ever'thing all right?

               Ma does not answer immediately. Her head lifted, she is 
               staring at Granma's face. Then slowly she withdraws her hand 
               from Grandma's heart.

                         Yes, ever'thing's all right. I--I 
                         guess I dropped off to sleep.

               Her head rests again. She lies looking fixedly at the still 

               The scene dissolves to an INSPECTION STATION, near Daggett, 
               California, at night. Obeying a sign that reads: "KEEP RIGHT 
               AND STOP," the Joad truck pulls up under a long shed as two 
               officers, yawning, come out to inspect it. One takes down 
               the license number and opens the hood. The people aboard the 
               truck bestir themselves sleepily.

                         What's this here?

                         Agricultural inspection. We got to 
                         go over your stuff. Got any vegetables 
                         or seed?


                         Well, we got to look over your stuff. 
                         You got to unload.

               MA gets down off the truck, her face swollen, her eyes hard. 
               There is an undercurrent of hysteria in her voice and manner.

                         Look, mister. We got a sick ol' lady. 
                         We got to get her to a doctor. We 
                         can't wait.
                              (Almost hysterically)
                         You can't make us wait!

                         Yeah? Well, we got to look you over.

                         I swear we ain't got anything. I 
                         swear it. An' Granma's awful sick.
                              (Pulling him to the 

               The officer lights his flashlight on Granma's face.

                         You wasn't foolin'! You swear you 
                         got no fruit or vegetables?

                         No, I swear it.

                         Then go ahead. You can get a doctor 
                         at Barstow. That's just eight miles. 
                         But don't stop. Don't get off. 

               Ma climbs back up beside Granma.

                         Okay, cap. Much oblige.

               The truck starts.

                              (to John)
                         Tell Tom he don't have to stop. 
                         Granma's all right.

               The TRUCK moves away on Highway 66.

               The scene dissolves to the TEHACHAPI VALLEY, by day. Taking 
               it from the book, there is a breath-taking view of the valley 
               from where Highway 66 comes out of the mountains. This is 
               the California the Joads have dreamed of, rich and beautiful, 
               the land of milk and honey. It is just daybreak, with the 
               sun at the Joad's back. They have pulled off the side of the 
               road and stopped, just to drink in the sight. They are looking 
               almost reverently at the sight before them as they climb 
               stiffly out of the truck.

                         Will ya look at her!

                              (shaking his head)
                         I never knowed they was anything 
                         like her!

               One by one, they climb down.

                         Where's Ma? I want Ma to see it. 
                         Look, Ma! Come here, Ma!

               He starts back. MA is holding to the rear of the truck, her 
               face stiff and swollen, her eyes deep-sunk, her limbs weak 
               and shaky.

                         Ma, you sick?

                         Ya say we're acrost?

                         Look, Ma!

                         Thank God!  An' we're still together--
                         most of us.
                              (Her knees buckle and 
                              she sits down on the 
                              running board)

                         Didn' you get no sleep?


                         Was Granma bad?

                              (after a pause)
                         Granma's dead.


                         Since before they stopped us las' 

                         An' that's why you didn't want 'em 
                         to look?

                         I was afraid they'd stop us an' 
                         wouldn't let us cross. But I tol' 
                         Granma. I tol' her when she was dyin'. 
                         I tol' her the fambly had ta get 
                         acrost. I tol' her we couldn't take 
                         no chances on bein' stopped.

               With the valley for background, Ma looks down on it.

                         So it's all right. At leas' she'll 
                         get buried in a nice green place. 
                         Trees and flowers aroun'.
                              (Smiling sadly)
                         She got to lay her head down in 
                         California after all.

               The scene fades out.

               A TOWN STREET, by day, fades in. Down a town or small city 
               business street, with quite a bit of traffic, comes the Joad 
               truck being pushed by the Joad men. At the wheel, aiming at 
               a corner gas station, is Rosasharn, frightened and uncertain, 
               with Ma beside her on the front seat. In the back Ruthie and 
               Winfield are delighted with this new form of locomotion. 
               Crossing the street, a policeman falls into step with Tom.

                         How far you figger you gonna get 
                         *this* way?

                         Right here. We give out a gas.

               It is a two-pump station and one of the pumps has a car, 
               with the attendant servicing it. The Joad truck stops by the 
               other pump and Tom, wiping his face with his sleeve, grins 
               and address himself to the policeman. The others stand 
               listening solemnly in the background.

                         Where's the bes' place to get some 
                         work aroun' here?
                              (Pulling out the 
                         Don't matter what kin' either.

                         If I seen one a them things I must a 
                         seen ten thousan'.

                         Ain't it no good?

                              (shaking his head)
                         Not here--not now. Month ago there 
                         was some pickin' but it's all moved 
                         south now. Where'bouts in Oklahoma 
                         you from?


                         I come out from Cherokee County--two 
                         years ago.

                         Why, Connie's folks from Cherokee 

                              (stopping her wearily)
                         Okay, ma'am, let's don't go into it. 
                         I already met about a hundred firs' 
                         cousins an' it mus' be five hundred 
                         secon'. But this is what I got to 
                         tell you, don't try to park in town 
                         tonight. Keep on out to that camp. 
                         If we catch you in town after dark 
                         we got to lock you up. Don't forget.

                         But what we gonna *do*?

                              (about to leave)
                         Pop, that just ain't up to me.
                              (Grimly he points to 
                              the handbill)
                         But I don't min' tellin' you, the 
                         guy they *ought* to lock up is the 
                         guy that sent out *them* things.

               He strolls away, the Joads looking concernedly after him, 
               just as the gas station attendant comes briskly to them after 
               disposing of the other car.

                         How many, folks?

                              (after a pause)

               The attendant regards him in disgust.

               The scene dissolves to HOOVERVILLE, by day. A large migrant 
               camp, a typical shanty town of ragged tents and tarpaper 
               shacks, jalopies and dirty children. A dozen or more children 
               pause to watch as the Joad truck lumbers down a dirt incline 
               from the road and stops at the edge of the camp in front of 
               one of the most miserable of the shacks. The Joads regard 
               the camp with dismay.

                              (shaking his head)
                         She shore don't look prosperous. 
                         Want to go somewheres else?

                         On a gallon a gas?
                              (As Tom grins at her)
                         Let's set up the tent. Maybe I can 
                         fix us up some stew.

               The truck moves into the camp through a lane of children.

               The scene dissolves to the JOAD TENT. In front of it, Ma is 
               on her knees feeding a small fire with broken sticks. On the 
               fire is a pot of stew. Ruthie and Winfield stand watching 
               the pot. About fifteen ragged, barefooted children in a half-
               circle are now around the fire, their solemn eyes on the pot 
               of stew. Occasionally they look at Ma, then back at the stew. 
               Presently one of the older girls speaks.

                         I could break up some bresh if you 
                         want me, ma'am.

                         You want to get ast to eat, hunh?

                         Yes, ma'am.

                         Didn' you have no breakfast?

                         No, ma'am. They ain't no work 
                         hereabouts. Pa's in tryin' to sell 
                         some stuff to get gas so's we can 
                         get along.

                         Didn' none of these have no breakfast?

               There is a long silence. Then:

                         I did. Me an' my brother did. We et 

                         Then you ain't hungry, are you?

               The boy chokes, his lip sticks out.

                         We et good.
                              (Then he breaks and 

                         Well, it's a good thing *some* a you 
                         ain't hungry, because they ain't 
                         enough to go all the way roun'.

                         Aw, he was braggin'. Know what he 
                         done? Las' night, come out an' say 
                         they got chicken to eat. Well, sir, 
                         I looked in whilst they was a-eatin' 
                         an' it was fried dough jus' like 
                         ever'body else.

               Pa and John enter.

                         How 'bout it?

                              (to Ruthie)
                         Go get Tom an' Al.
                              (looking helplessly 
                              at the children)
                         I dunno what to do. I got to feed 
                         the fambly. What'm I gonna do with 
                         these here?

               She is dishing the stew into tin plates. The children's eyes 
               follow the spoon, and then the first plate, to John. He is 
               raising the first spoonful to his mouth when he notices them 
               apparently for the first time. He is chewing slowly, his 
               eyes on the children, their eyes on his face, when Tom and 
               Al enter.

                              (standing up)
                         You take this.
                              (Handing plate to Tom)
                         I ain't hungry.

                         Whatta ya mean? You ain't et today.

                         I know, but I got a stomickache. I 
                         ain't hungry.

                              (after a glance at 
                              the children)
                         You take that plate inside the tent 
                         an' you eat it.

                         Wouldn't be no use. I'd still see 
                         'em inside the tent.

                              (to the children)
                         You git. Go on now, git. You ain't 
                         doin' no good. They ain't enough for 

               The children retreat a step, but no more, and then look 
               wonderingly at him.

                         We can't send 'em away. Take your 
                         plates an' go inside. Take a plate 
                         to Rosasharn.
                              (Smiling, to the 
                         Look. You little fellas go an' get 
                         you each a flat stick an' I'll put 
                         what's lef' for you.
                              (The children scatter)
                         But they ain't to be no fightin'!
                              (Dishing plates for 
                              Ruthie and Winfield)
                         I don't know if I'm doin' right or 
                         not but--go inside, ever'body stay 
                              (The children are 
                         They ain't enough. All you gonna get 
                         is jus' a taste but--I can't help 
                         it, I can't keep it from you.

               She goes in the tent hurriedly to hide the fact that tears 
               have come into her eyes. The children pounce on the pot, 
               silently, too busy digging for the stew to speak.

               INSIDE THE TENT they have all finished their stew already.

                         I done fine! Now nobody got enough!

               At the ROAD a new coupe drives off the highway and into the 
               camp and stops. It contains two men. One gets out.

               A GROUP OF MEN are squatting in a half-circle, the usual 
               pattern for conversation, but they are silent now as their 
               eyes fix on the man approaching. He is a labor agent.

               OUTSIDE THE JOAD TENT the men are looking in the direction 
               of the group. They start to walk toward it.

               AT THE GROUP OF MEN: The agent, wearing a flat-brimmed Stetson 
               and with his pockets filled with pencils and dog-eared 
               booklets, looks down at the silent men. All of the men in 
               the camp are approaching slowly, silently. The women give 
               their anxious attention in the background. Among the men who 
               walk up is FLOYD, a grimly disappointed young man.

                         You men want to work?

                         Sure we wanta work. Where's it at?

                         Tulare County. Fruit's opening up. 
                         Need a lot of pickers.

                         You doin' the hirin'?

                         Well, I'm contracting the land.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         Whay you payin?

                         Well, can't tell exactly, yet. 'Bout 
                         thirty cents, I guess.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         Why can't you tell? You took the 
                         contrac', didn' you?

                         That's true. But it's keyed to the 
                         price. Might be a little more, might 
                         be a little less.

                         All right, mister. I'll go. You just 
                         show your license to contrack, an' 
                         then you make out a order--where an' 
                         when an' how much you gonna pay--an' 
                         you sign it an' we'll go.

                         You trying to tell me how to run my 
                         own business?

                         'F we're workin' for you, it's our 
                         business too. An' how do we know--
                              (pulling out a handbill)
                         --you ain't one a the guys that sent 
                         these things out?

                         Listen, Smart Guy. I'll run my 
                         business my own way. I got work. If 
                         you wanta take it, okay. If not, 
                         just sit here, that's all.

               The squatting men have risen one by one. Their faces are 
               expressionless because they simply don't know when one of 
               these calls is genuine or when it isn't. Floyd addresses 

                         Twicet now I've fell for that line. 
                         Maybe he needs a thousan' men. So he 
                         get's five thousan' there, an' he'll 
                         pay fifteen cents a hour. An' you 
                         guys'll have to take it 'cause you'll 
                         be hungry.
                              (Facing the agent)
                         'F he wants to hire men, let him 
                         write it out an' say what he's gonna 
                         pay. Ast to see his license. He ain't 
                         allowed by law to contrack men without 
                         a license.


               The other man gets out of the COUPE. He wears riding breeches 
               and laced boots, carries a pistol and cartridge belt, and 
               there is a deputy sheriff's star on his brown shirt. He smiles 
               thinly and shifts his pistol holster as he starts toward the 
               group. THE MEN are watching the deputy approach.

                         You see? If this guy was on the level, 
                         would he bring a cop along?

                         What's the trouble?

                              (pointing at Floyd)
                         Ever see this guy before?

                         What'd he do?

                         He's agitatin'.

                              (Giving Floyd a looking 
                         Seems like I have. Seems like I seen 
                         him hangin' around that used car lot 
                         that was busted into. Yep, I'd swear 
                         it's the same fella.
                         Get in that car.

                         You got nothin' on him.

                         Open your trap again and you'll go 

                              (to the men)
                         You fellas don't wanta lissen to 
                         troublemakers. You better pack up 
                         an' come on to Tulare County.

               The men say nothing.

                         Might be a good idea to do what he 
                         says. Too many of you Okies aroun' 
                         here already. Folks beginnin' to 
                         figger it ain't maybe *safe*. Might 
                         start a epidemic or sump'n.
                              (After a pause)
                         Wouldn't like a bunch a guys down 
                         here with pick handles tonight, would 

               As the agent gets into the coupe FLOYD'S thumbs hook over 
               his belt and he looks off, away. TOM'S look away is an answer. 
               His thumbs also hook over his belt.

                              (to Floyd)
                         Now, you.

               He takes hold of Floyd's left arm. At the same time Floyd 
               swings, smacks him in the face. As the deputy staggers, Tom 
               sticks out a foot and trips him. Floyd is already running 
               through the camp. The deputy fires from the ground. There is 
               a scream. A WOMAN is looking down at her hand, the knuckles 
               shot away.

               The COUPE is seen as the agent steps on the gas to get away. 
               As Floyd gets in the clear, the DEPUTY, sitting on the ground, 
               aims his pistol again, slowly, carefully. Behind him Casy 
               steps up, gauges his distance, and then kicks him square in 
               the base of the skull. The deputy tumbles over unconscious. 
               Tom picks up the pistol.

                         Gimme that gun. Now git outa here. 
                         Go down in them willows an' wait.

                         I ain't gonna run.

                         He seen you, Tom! You wanta be 
                         fingerprinted? You wanta get sent 
                         back for breakin' parole?

                         You're right!

                         Hide in the willows. If it's awright 
                         to come back I'll give you four high 

               As Tom strides away there is the distant sound of a siren. 
               Casy empties the gun and throws cartridges and gun aside. 
               The men, aghast, have been standing back, worried and excited 
               and apprehensive. They wish nothing like this had happened. 
               The women have gathered around the wounded woman, who is 
               sobbing. Now at the sound of the siren everybody begins to 
               move uncomfortably toward his tent or shack. Al looks 
               admiringly from Casy to the unconscious deputy.

               Everybody has disappeared into his tent but Al and Casy. The 
               siren draws nearer.

                         Go on. Get in your tent. You don't 
                         know nothin'.

                         How 'bout you?

                         *Some*body got to take the blame. 
                         They just *got* to hang it on 
                         somebody, you know.
                         An' I ain't doin' nothin' but set 

                         But ain't no reason--

                         Lissen. I don't care nothin' about 
                         you, but if you mess in this, your 
                         whole fambly li'ble to get in trouble, 
                         an' Tom get sent back to the 

                         Okay. I think you're a darn fool, 

                         Sure. Why not?

               Al heads for the Joad tent and Casy kneels down and lifts 
               the deputy. He wipes his face clean. The deputy begins to 
               come to. An open car curves off the highway, stops in the 
               clearing, and four men with rifles pile out. The deputy sits 
               rubbing his eyes and Casy stands.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         What's goin' on here?

                         This man a yours, he got tough an' I 
                         hit him. Then he started shootin'--
                         hit a woman down the line--so I hit 
                         him again.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         Well--what'd you do in the first 

                         I talked back.

               Two of the men have helped the deputy to his feet. He feels 
               the back of his neck gingerly.

                         They's a woman down there like to 
                         bleed to death from his bad shootin'.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                              (to assistant)
                         Take a look at her.
                              (To deputy)
                         Mike, is this the fella that hit 

                         Don't look like him.

                         It was me, all right. You just got 
                         smart with the wrong fella.

                         Don't look like him, but... maybe it 
                         was. I ain't sure.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         Get in that car.

               With a deputy on either side of him, Casy climbs in the back 
               seat. The sickish deputy is helped into the car. The other 
               man comes running back.

                         Boy, what a mess a .45 does make!  
                         They got a tourniquet on. We'll send 
                         a doctor out.

               The car starts. CASY and two deputies beside him are revealed 
               in the back seat. Casy sits proudly, head up, eyes front. On 
               his lips is a faint smile; on his face, a curious look of 

                              (angry at the whole 
                         But what you gonna do? Must be 
                         *thousands* of 'em around here, sore 
                         and hungry and living in them dumps. 
                         What you gonna do about 'em?

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         You gotta hold 'em down. Hold 'em 
                         down or they'll take over the whole 
                         country. That's all you *can* do.

                         Well, they ain't gonna take over 
                         *my* country. I been livin' here too 
                         long for *that*. Maybe some a the 
                         boys better drop around tonight and 
                         give 'em something to think about.

               Casy sits with eyes front. AT THE WILLOWS, screened by trees 
               or brush, Tom looks off at the car taking Casy away. Starting 
               at a sound, he withdraws into the brush as the scene 

               IN FRONT OF THE JOAD TENT, at night, Ma stands facing Pa and 
               Al. Rosasharn lies on a pallet, her face in her arms, while 
               Ruthie and Winfield look on, wide-eyed at the family quarrel.

                              (to Ma)
                         Leave him alone, Ma--Al's just billy-
                         goatin' around--

                         Sure! I was just aimin' to meet up 
                         with a couple girls I know.

                         You don't know *no* girls around 
                         here. You're lyin', *You're runnin' 

                              (a short flash of 
                              momentary but ill 
                              advised belligerence)
                         Cut it out, Ma, or I'll--

                              (softly, as she picks 
                              up jack-handle)
                         You'll *what*?... Come on, Pa. Come 
                         on an' whup me. Jus' try it.

                         Now don't get sassy, Ma.

                         Al ain't a-goin' away, an' you gonna 
                         *tell* him he ain't a-goin' away.
                              (Hefting the jack-
                         An' if you think diff'unt, you gotta 
                         whup me first. So some on.

                         I never *seen* her so sassy.
                              (With a touch of 
                              bewildered pride)
                         An' she ain't so young, neither!

                         I'd come back--

                              (eyes on Pa)
                         But ef you *do* whup me, I swear you 
                         better not ever go to sleep again, 
                         because the minute you go to sleep, 
                         or you're settin' down, or your back's 
                         turned, I'm gonna knock you belly-up 
                         with a bucket.

               They stand staring at each other in silence.

               At the EDGE OF HOOVERVILLE, Tom is heading for the Joad tent 
               warily, glancing around constantly, but not running, for 
               that would draw attention to him.

               IN FRONT OF THE JOAD TENT again:

                         Jus' sassy, that's all.

                         Sassy my foot! I'm jus' sick and 
                         tar'd a my folks tryin' to bust up. 
                         All we got lef' in the *worl'* is 
                         the fambly--an' right down at bottom 
                         that's all we *got* to have! Ef some 
                         of us dies, we can't he'p that--but 
                         ain't nobody else runnin' away!

                         But it ain't runnin' away, Ma. All I 
                         wanta do is go away with another 
                         fella an' look aroun' for work by 

                         Well, you ain't a-goin'! Ain't 
                         *nobody* else a-goin'! We *got* here 
                         an' we gonna *stay* here, together! 
                         As long as we got the fambly unbroke 
                         I ain't scared, but it's a long bitter 
                         road we got ahead of us--
                              (squaring off)
                         --an' I'm here to tell ya ef anybody 
                         else tries to bust us up anymore I'm 
                         a-goin' cat wild with this here piece 
                         a bar-arn!

               As she gets ready for whatever... IN THE SHADOWS, twenty 
               feet away from the tent, Tom whistles softly.

                         Hey, Al!

               IN FRONT OF THE JOAD TENT, all but Ma are looking off. Ma 
               still eyes Pa.

                              (peering into the 
                         Tom? You can come on. They gone.

                              (entering quickly)
                         We got to get outa here right away. 
                         Ever'body here? Where's Uncle John?

                              (from tent)
                         Here I am.

                         What's a matter now?

                         Fella tells me some a them poolroom 
                         boys figgerin' to burn the whole 
                         camp out tonight. Got to get that 
                         truck loaded--what you doin' with 
                         the jack-handle, Ma?

                                     MA, PA, AND AL
                         Al's tryin' to go away... She jus' 
                         got sassy... All I aimed to do...

                              (taking the jack-handle)
                         Awright, you can fight it out later. 
                         Right now we got to hustle. Where's 

               There is a silence that stops Tom in his rush of preparation.

                         Connie's gone.
                              (Indicating Rosasharn)
                         Lit out this e'enin'--said he didn't 
                         know it was gonna be like this.

                         Glad to get shet of him. Never was 
                         no good an' never will be--

                         Pa! Shh!

                         How come I got to shh? Run out, didn't 

                              (looking to Rosasharn)
                         Cut it out, Pa. He'p Al with the 
                              (He kneels beside 
                              Rosasharn. Gently)
                         Don't fret, honey. You goin' to be 

                              (uncovering her face)
                         Tom, I jus' don't feel like nothin' 
                         a tall. Without him I jus' don't 
                         wanta live.

                         Maybe he'll be back. We'll leave 
                         word for him. Jus' don't cry.
                              (He pats her awkwardly)

               The scene dissolves to HOOVERVILLE, at night. The jalopies 
               are lumbering up on the road, one after the other, as the 
               migrants scatter before the threatened invasion.

               IN THE JOAD TRUCK, Tom is helping Rosasharn into the front 
               seat, beside Ma. The others are aboard except Al. Tom hands 
               Al a wrench.

                         Just in case. Sit up back an' if 
                         anybody tries to climb up--let 'im 
                         have it.

                              (from truck)
                         I ain't got nothin' in *my* han'.

                              (to Al)
                         Give 'im a fryin' pan.
                              (He gets into the 
                              driver's seat and 
                              starts the truck)

               In the FRONT SEAT of the truck, Tom drives, Ma sits in the 
               middle, Rosasharn on the other side.

                         Maybe Connie went to get some books 
                         to study up with. He's gonna be a 
                         radio expert, ya know. Maybe he 
                         figgered to suprise us.

                         Maybe that's jus' what he done.

                         Ma, they comes a time when a man 
                         gets mad.

                         Tom--you tol' me--you promised you 
                         wasn't like that. You promised me.

                         I know, Ma. I'm a tryin'. If it was 
                         the law they was workin' with, we 
                         could take it. But it *ain't* the 
                         law. They're workin' away at our 
                         spirits. They're tryin' to make us 
                         cringe an' crawl. They're workin' on 
                         our decency.

                         You promised, Tommy.

                         I'm a-tryin', Ma. Honest I am.

                         You gotta keep clear, Tom. The 
                         fambly's breakin' up. You *got* to 
                         keep clear.

                         What's that--detour?

               As he slows down the truck, we see that half of the ROAD is 
               blocked with boards and red lanterns. a group of men swarm 
               around the Joad truck as it stops. A leader leans in Tom's 

                         Where you think you're goin'?

               In the FRONT SEAT of the truck Tom's hand reaches for the 
               jack-handle on the seat at his side but Ma's hand clutches 
               his arm in a steel grip.

                              (then in a servile 
                         --we're strangers here. We heard 
                         about they's work in a place called 

                         Well, you're goin' the wrong way, 
                         an' what's more, we don't want no 
                         more Okies in this town. We ain't 
                         got work enough for them that are 
                         already here.

               Tom's arm trembles as he tries to pull it away, but Ma holds 
               on tight.

                         Which way is it at, mister?

                         You turn right aroun' and head north. 
                         An' don't come back till the cotton's 

                         Yes, sir.

               The TRUCK turns around. In the FRONT SEAT Tom is almost 
               sobbing with anger as he maneuvers the truck around.

                         Don't you min', Tommy. You done good. 
                         You done jus' good.

               The TRUCK is going back down the road as the scene fades 

               A MONTAGE fades in: superimposed on growing fields hand-made 
               signs flash by: NO HELP WANTED, KEEP OUT--THIS MEANS U, NO 
               WORK, NO HELP WANTED.

               Then we see the JOAD TRUCK pulled up off the paved highway, 
               and jacked up while Tom and Al fix a puncture. Ma is seated 
               in the front seat with Rosasharn. Pa and Uncle John are 
               puttering about worriedly.

                         Sump'n got to happen soon. We got 
                         one day's more grease, two day's 
                         flour, an' ten potatoes. After that...
                              (Looking at Rosasharn)
                         An' Rosasharn, we got to remember 
                         she's gonna be due soon.

                              (shaking his head)
                         It sure is hell jus' tryin' to get 
                         enough to eat.

                         Fella tells me they's three hunerd 
                         thousan' aroun' here like us, a-
                         scrabblin' for work an' livin' like 
                         hogs. Can't figger what it is, but 
                         *sump'n's* wrong.

               A BUICK ROADMASTER which has been speeding toward them stops 
               suddenly. Driving it is a husky man, named Spencer, whose 
               manner is amiable and disarming.



                         You people looking for work?

                         Mister, we're lookin' even under 
                         boards for work.

                         Can you pick peaches?

                         We can pick anything.

                         Well, there's plenty of work for you 
                         about forty miles north, this road 
                         just outside Pixley. Turn east on 32 
                         and look for Hooper's ranch. Tell 
                         'em Spencer sent you.

               This is electrifying news, as their faces show.

                         Mister, we sure that ya!

               As they snap into action to get under way again the scene 
               dissolves to the FRONT SEAT, Al driving, with Ma and Tom 
               beside him. They are all smiles, their faces glowing with 

                         Fust thing I'll get is coffee, cause 
                         ever'body been wantin' that, an' 
                         then some flour an' bakin' powder 
                         an' meat. Better not get no side-
                         meat right off. Save that for later. 
                         Maybe Sat'dy. Got to get some soap 
                         too. An' milk. Rosasharn's got to 
                         have some milk.

                         Get some sugar too, for the coffee.

                         You know, I jus' can't remember when 
                         I felt so good before!

                         Know what I'm a-gonna do? I'm a-gonna 
                         save up an' go in town an' get me a 
                         job in a garage. Live in a room an' 
                         eat in restaurants. Go to the movin' 
                         pitchers *ever'* night. Cowboy 

               The scene dissolves to the ENTRANCE OF THE HOOPER RANCH in 
               daylight. A gravel road leads from the paved highway to the 
               big wire gates, which are enclosed. Along the side of the 
               paved highway are parked a dozen jalopies, the migrants 
               sitting soberly in them. Fifty or sixty other migrants line 
               the gravel road and the junction with the paved highway. 
               Five jalopies are in line waiting to enter the gates. And 
               the scene is overwhelmingly policed. There must be ten 
               motorcycle cops around. Six are dismounted and strolling to 
               keep order among the migrants along the road. Three, their 
               motorcycles roaring, flank the line of five jalopies. As the 
               Joad truck drives up, we see the FRONT SEAT. Tom, Al, and Ma 
               are beholding the scene with bewilderment.

                         What is it, a wreck?

                              (on motorcycle)
                         Where you think you're going?

                         Fella named Spencer sent us--said 
                         they was work pickin' peaches.

                         Want to work, do you?

                         Sure do.

                         Pull up behind that car.
                         Okay for this one. Take 'em through.

                              (the truck moving)
                         What's the matter? What's happened?

                         Little trouble up ahead, but you'll 
                         get through. Just follow the line.

               The motorcycle escort forms around the line of six cars and 
               a deafening din is raised, of motorcycles, sirens, and an 
               inexplicable blowing of horns on the jalopies. At the same 
               time, as the gates open and the six cars start through, 
               flanked by the motorcycle cops, the migrants begin spasmodic 
               shouts, but what they say cannot be understood. As the cars 
               move slowly, Tom and Al in the FRONT SEAT are puzzled and 
               worried at the demonstration.

                         Maybe the road's out.

                         I don't know what these cops got to 
                         do with it but I don't like it.
                              (Looking out)
                         An' these here are our own people, 
                         all of 'em. I don't like this.

               AT THE GATES the heckling from the bystanders is spasmodic, 
               not continuous, as the six jalopies in line pass through the 
               gate into the Hooper ranch. Two men stand beside the gates 
               with shotguns. They keep calling.

                         Go on, go on! Keep movin'!

               The Joad truck passes through the gates. IN THE HOOPER RANCH 
               the six jalopies are halted at the end of a camp street. The 
               houses are small, square blocks, set in line. One, a little 
               larger, is a grocery store. Casually about are men in pairs 
               with metal stars on their shirts and shotguns in their hands. 
               Two bookkeepers are already passing down the cars and jotting 
               down information.

                         Want to work?

                         Sure, but what is this?

                         That's not your affair. Name.


                         How many men?






                         Can all of you work?

                         Why, I guess so.

                         Okay. House 63. Wages 5 cents a box. 
                         No bruised fruit. Move along and go 
                         to work right away.

               He moves to the next car. The Joad truck starts...

               AT HOUSE 63, as the Joad truck pulls up, two deputies 
               approach. They look closely into each face as the Joads pile 
               out. One of the deputies has a long list in his hand.

                                     FIRST DEPUTY

                         Joad. Say, what is this here?

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                              (consulting list)
                         Not here. Take a look at his license.

                                     FIRST DEPUTY
                         542-567 Oklahoma.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         Ain't got it. Guess they're okay.
                              (To Tom)
                         Now you look here. We don't want no 
                         trouble with you. Jes' do your work 
                         and mind your own business and you'll 
                         be all right.
                              (The deputies walk 

                         They sure do want to make us feel at 
                         home all right.

               Ma and Rosasharn step inside the house. It is filthy. A rusty 
               tin stove resting on four bricks is all the one room contains. 
               Ma and Rosasharn stand looking around at it. Finally:

                         We gonna live here?

                              (after a moment)
                         Why, sure. It won't be so bad once 
                         we get her washed out.

                         I like the tent better.

                         This got a floor. Wouldn't leak when 
                         it rains.

               OUTSIDE, a clerk with glasses appears, pushing a cart loaded 
               with three-gallon buckets.


                         It's still Joad.

                              (doling out the buckets)
                         How many?

                              (at the door)
                              (To Tom)
                         All y'all go. Me an' Rosasharn'll 

               With their buckets they shuffle away toward the peach trees--
               Tom, Pa, Uncle John, Al, and the two children struggling 
               with the enormous containers.

               The scene dissolves to the INTERIOR OF HOUSE 63 at night, a 
               lantern lighting the scene. Sitting wherever they can, the 
               Joads have finished their supper of hamburgers. And grateful 
               they are too, for the meat.

                              (wiping his mouth)
                         Got any more, Ma?

                         No. That's all. You made a dollar, 
                         an' that's a dollar's worth.


                         They charge extry at the comp'ny 
                         store but they ain't no other place.

                         I ain't full.

                         Well, tomorra you'll get in a full 
                         day--full day's pay--an' we'll have 

                         You wouldn't think jus' reachin' up 
                         an' pickin'd get you in the back.

                         Think I'll walk out an' try to fin' 
                         out what all that fuss outside the 
                         gate was. Anybody wanta come with 

                         No. I'm jus' gonna set awhile an' 
                         then go to bed.

                         Think I'll look aroun' an' see if I 
                         can't meet me a girl.

                         Thing's been workin' on me, what 
                         they was yellin' about. Got me all 

                         I got to get a lot curiouser than I 
                         am--with all them cops out there.

                         Okay. I be back a little later.

                         You be careful, Tommy. Don't you be 
                         stickin' your nose in anything.

                         Okay, Ma. Don't you worry.

               IN THE RANCH STREET. There is a faint moonlight, but not 
               much, and little sound from the other houses as Tom strolls 
               down the street.

               NEAR THE GATE: beyond, cars pass. As Tom approaches the gate 
               a flashlight plays on his face suddenly and a guard rises 
               from a box.

                         Where you think you're going?

                         Thought I'd take a walk. Any law 
                         against it?

                         Well, you just turn around and walk 
                         the other way.

                         You mean I can't even get outa here?

                         Not tonight you can't. Want to walk 
                         back?--or you want me to whistle up 
                         some help and take you back?

                         I'll walk back.

               The guard watches him as he walks back and then douses his 

               At a SECTION OF WIRE FENCE, watching his chance, moving 
               silently, Tom drops on the ground, on his back, gets his 
               head under the bottom wire, and pushes himself under and 
               outside. Rising, he crosses the paved highway.

               AN EMBANKMENT across the road from the wire fence: Tom 
               clambers down it, moving quietly. He picks his way down the 
               shallow ravine.

               A TENT: there is a light inside and there are the shadows of 
               figures. In the background, beyond the tent, is the silhouette 
               of a small concrete bridge spanning a small stream. Following 
               a trail, Tom enters and approaches the tent. (The opening is 
               away from him.) IN FRONT OF THE TENT, a man sitting on a box 
               looks up suspiciously as Tom enters. His name is Joe.


                         Who are you?

                         Jus' goin' pas', that's all.

                         Know anybody here?

                         No. Jus' goin' pas', I tell you.

               A head sticks out of the tent. Until he speaks, Tom does not 
               recognize Casy.

                         What's the matter?

                         Casy! What you doin' here?

                         Well, if it ain't Tom Joad. How ya, 

                         Thought you was in jail.

                         No, I done my time an' got out. Come 
                         on in.
                              (He pulls Tom into 
                              the tent.)

               INSIDE THE TENT, three other men sit on the ground as Casy 
               brings Tom in. One's name is Frank.

                         This the fella you been talkin' about?

                         This is him. What you doin' here, 

                         Workin'. Pickin' peaches. But I seen 
                         a bunch a fellas yellin' when we 
                         come in, so I come out to see what's 
                         goin' on. What's it all about?

                         This here's a strike.

                         Well, fi' cents a box ain't much, 
                         but a fella can eat.

                         Fi' cents! They pain' you fi' cents?

                         Sure. We made a buck since midday.

                              (after a long silence)
                         Lookie, Tom. We come to work here. 
                         They tell us it's gonna be fi' cents.  
                         But they was a whole lot of us, so 
                         the man says two an' a half cents. 
                         Well, a fella can't even eat on that, 
                         an' if he got kids...
                              (After a pause)
                         So we says we won't take it. So they 
                         druv us off. Now they're payin' you 
                         five--but when they bust this strike 
                         ya think they'll pay five?

                         I dunno. Payin' five now.

                         I don't expeck we can las' much longer--
                         some a the folks ain't et for two 
                         days. You goin' back tonight?

                         I aim to.

                         Well--tell the folks inside how it 
                         is, Tom. Tell 'em they're starvin' 
                         us and stabbin' theirself in the 
                         back. An' as sure as God made little 
                         apples it's goin' back to two an' a 
                         half jus' as soon as they clear us 

                         You hear sump'n?

               They listen. Then:

                         I'll tell 'em. But I don't know how. 
                         Never seen so many guys with guns. 
                         Wouldn't even let us talk today.

                         Try an' tell 'em, Tom. They'll get 
                         two an' a half, jus' the minute we're 
                         gone. An' you know what that is? 
                         That's one ton a peaches picked an' 
                         carried for a dollar. That way you 
                         can't even buy food enough to keep 
                         you alive! Tell 'em to come out with 
                         us, Tom! Them peaches is *ripe*. Two 
                         days out an' they'll pay *all* of us 

                         They won't. They're a-gettin' five 
                         an' they don't care about nothin' 

                         But jus' the minute they ain't strike-
                         breakin' they won't get no five!

                         An' the nex' thing you know you'll 
                         be out, because they got it all 
                         figgered down to a T--until the 
                         harvest is in you're a *migrant* 
                         worker--afterwards, just a bum.

                         Five they're a-gettin' now, an' that's 
                         all they're int'rested in. I know 
                         exackly what Pa'd say. He'd jus' say 
                         it wasn't none a his business.

                         I guess that's right. Have to take a 
                         beatin' before he'll know.

                         We was outa food. Tonight we had 
                         meat. Not much, but we had it. Think 
                         Pa's gonna give up his meat on account 
                         a other fellas? An' Rosasharn needs 
                         milk. Think Ma's gonna starve that 
                         baby jus' cause a bunch a fellas is 
                         yellin' outside a gate?

                         Got to learn, like I'm a-learnin'. 
                         Don't know it right yet myself, but 
                         I'm tryin' to fin' out. That's why I 
                         can't ever be a preacher again. 
                         Preacher got to *know*.
                              (Shaking his head)
                         I don't. I got to *ask*.

                              (sticking his head in 
                         I don't like it.

                         What's the matter?

                         Can't tell. Seems like I hear sump'n, 
                         an' then I listen an' they ain't 
                         nothin' to hear.

                         'Tain't outa the question, y'know.
                              (He exits)

                         All of us a little itchy. Cops been 
                         tellin' us how they gonna beat us up 
                         an' run us outa the country. Not 
                         them reg'lar deppities, but them tin-
                         star fellas they got for guards.
                              (After a pause)
                         They figger I'm the leader because I 
                         talk so much.

               Frank's head sticks in the door. His voice is an excited 

                         Turn out that light an' come outside. 
                         They's sump'n here.

               Quickly Casy turns the light down and out. He gropes for the 
               door, followed by Tom and the other man.

               IN FRONT OF THE TENT:

                         What is it?

                         I dunno. Listen.

               There are night sounds but little else to be distinguished.

                         Can't tell if you hear it or not. 
                         You hear it, Tom?

                         I hear it. I think they's some guys 
                         comin' this way, lots of 'em. We 
                         better get outa here.

                         Down that way--under the bridge span.

               Casy leads the way softly. THE BRIDGE SPAN is seen from the 
               stream as Casy, Tom, and the other man wade carefully toward 

               UNDER THE BRIDGE it is almost black as they creep through 
               the culvert. Just as Casy and Tom step out from under the 
               bridge on the other side, a blinding flashlight hits them, 
               lighting them like day.

                         There they are! Stand where you are!

               Halted, uncertain, they stand as three men with stars on 
               their coats and pickhandles in their hands slide down the 
               EMBANKMENT. Two of them hold lighted flashlights.

                         That's him! That one in the middle, 
                         the skinny one! Chuck! Alec! Here 
                         they are! We got 'em!

               There are faint responses from a distance. CASY AND TOM are 
               alone. The others have fled. The deputies approach, their 
               lights on Casy and Tom.

                         Listen, you fellas. You don't know 
                         what you're doin'. You're helpin' to 
                         stave kids.

                         Shut up, you red--

               He swings the pickhandle. Casy dodges but the stick cracks 
               his skull. He falls face down out of the light. The deputies 
               watch for a moment but Casy doesn't stir.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         Looks like to me you killed him.

                         Turn him over. Put the light on him.

               Bending over, their bodies hide Casy.

               TOM, seen close, is breathing hard, his eyes glistening.

                                     DEPUTY'S VOICE
                         Serves him right, too.

               As the deputies straighten up, Tom steps forward, grabs the 
               pickhandle from the man who felled Casy, and swings. The 
               blow strikes the deputy's arm, sending his flashlight flying, 
               and the scene is in semi-darkness as Tom swings again. There 
               is a grunt and a groan as the deputy goes down. Then all is 
               confusion. Backing away, swinging the pickhandle, Tom bolts, 
               splashes a few yards through the stream, turns and gains a 
               better start by throwing the pickhandle at his pursuers. 
               They duck, and Tom disappears into the night. The other men 
               rush through the scene in pursuit.

               THE SECOND DEPUTY is seen bending over the body of the man 
               Tom laid out.

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         Where's that flash?

                                     THIRD DEPUTY

               The light flashes on the man's face.

                                     THIRD DEPUTY
                         Boy, he's *good* and dead! You see 
                         that fella that done it?

                                     SECOND DEPUTY
                         I ain't sure--but I caught him one 
                         across the face, and believe me, I 
                         give him a trade-mark *he* ain't 
                         gonna be able to shake off easy!

               TOM is seen crashing through the bushes, his face bloody. 
               The scene fades out.

               THE EXTERIOR OF HOUSE 63 fades in. It is day. Ma comes down 
               the street with a bundle under her arm and enters the house.

               INSIDE HOUSE 63, Rosasharn sits by the window as Ma enters.

                         Anybody ask anything?


                         Stand by the door.

               Rosasharn takes her post at the door as Ma kneels on the 
               floor beside Tom, puts down the rag bundle, and gets a basin. 
               Tom, who is under a quilt, is with his back alone visible. 
               She speaks softly, guardedly, as she bathes his face.

                         How's it feel, Tommy?

                         Busted my cheek but I can still see. 
                         What'd you hear?

                         Looks like you done it.

                         I kinda thought so. Felt like it.

                         Folks ain't talkin' about much else. 
                         They say they got posses out. Talkin' 
                         about a lynchin'--when they catch 
                         the fella.

                         They killed Casy first.

                         That ain't the way they're tellin' 
                         it. They're sayin' you done it fust.

                              (after a pause)
                         They know what--this fella looks 

                         They know he got hit in the face.

                         I'm sorry, Ma. But--I didn't know 
                         what I was doin', no more'n when you 
                         take a breath. I didn't even know I 
                         was gonna do it.

                         It's awright, Tommy. I wisht you 
                         didn't do it, but you done what you 
                         had to do. I can't read no fault in 

                         I'm gonna go away tonight. I can't 
                         go puttin' this on you folks.

                         Tom! They's a whole lot I don't 
                         understan', but goin' away ain't 
                         gonna ease us.
                         They was the time when we was on the 
                         lan'. They was a bound'ry to us then. 
                         Ol' folks died off, an' little fellas 
                         come, an' we was always one thing--
                         we was the fambly--kinda whole an' 
                         clear. But now we ain't clear no 
                         more. They ain't nothin' keeps us 
                         clear. Al--he's a-hankerin' an' a-
                         jibbitin' to go off on his own. An' 
                         Uncle John is just a-draggin' along. 
                         Pa's lost his place--he ain't the 
                         head no more. We're crackin' up, 
                         Tom. They ain't no fambly now. 
                              (a glance at the girl)
                         --she gonna have her baby, but *it* 
                         ain't gonna have no fambly. I been 
                         tryin' to keep her goin' but--Winfiel'--
                         what's he gonna be, this-a-way?  
                         Growin' up wild, an' Ruthie, too--
                         like animals. Got nothin' to trus'. 
                         Don't go Tom. Stay an' help. Help 

                         Okay, Ma. I shouldn't, though. I 
                         know I shouldn't. But okay.

                         Here come a lot of people.

               Tom puts his head under the quilt. Ma turns, faces the door, 
               her body protectively between Tom and whatever threatens.

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S VOICE
                         How many of you?

                                     MIGRANT'S VOICE
                         Ten of us. Whatcha payin'?

               OUTSIDE HOUSE 63, the bookkeeper has encountered the 

                         House 25. Number's on the door.

                         Okay, mister. Whatcha payin'?

                         Two and a half cents.

                         Two an' a half! Say, mister, a man 
                         can't make his dinner on that.

                         Take it or leave it. There's 200 men 
                         coming from the South that'll be 
                         glad to get it.

                         But--but how we gonna eat?

                         Look, I didn't set the price. I'm 
                         just working here. If you want it, 
                         take it. If you don't, turn right 
                         around and beat it.

                         Which way is House 25?

                         That Casy. He might a been a preacher, 
                         but--he seen a lot a things clear. 
                         He was like a lantern--he helped mw 
                         see things too.

                         Comes night we'll get outa here.

               At night, the TRUCK is backed up to the door of House 63; it 
               is already loaded. Ma is speaking in a low voice to Tom, who 
               is peering out from under a mattress in the truck.

                         It's jus' till we get some distance. 
                         Then you can come out.

                         I'd hate to get *trapped* in here.

                                     GUARD'S VOICE
                         What's goin' on here?

               Tom disappears. Ma turns, her back to the truck. The guard 
               plays his flashlight on the Joads, who stand watching him 

                         We're goin' out.

                         What for?

                         We got a job offered--good job.

                         Yeah? Let's have a look at you.
                              (He plays his 
                              flashlight on the 
                         Wasn't there another fella with you?

                         You mean that hitch-hiker? Little 
                         short fella with a pale face?

                         I guess that's what he looked like.

                         We just picked him up on the way in. 
                         He went away this mornin' when the 
                         rate dropped.

                              (thinking hard)
                         What'd he look like again?

                         Short fella. Pale face.

                         Was he bruised up this mornin'? About 
                         the face?

                         I didn't see nothin'.

                         Okay. Go on.

               Quickly, Al is in the driver's seat, with Ma and Pa beside 
               him. The truck rattles into motion and moves down the street.

               AT THE GATES TO THE RANCH another guard flashes a light as 
               Al stops the car.

                                     SECOND GUARD
                         Goin' out for good?

                         Yeah. Goin' north. Got a job.

                                     SECOND GUARD

               He opens the gate and the truck goes through. It turns from 
               the gravel road onto the paved highway.


                         You done good, Al. Just good.

               Al shows his pleased pride in her quiet approval.

                         Know where we're a-goin'?

                              (shaking her head)
                         Don't matter. Just got to go--an' 
                         keep a-goin', till we get plenty a 
                         distance away from here.

               The TRUCK is rattling along the highway.

               Next, it is day, and the TRUCK is still churning along.

               In the FRONT SEAT, Tom is driving, his cap pulled as far 
               down as possible over his wounded cheek. Rosasharn has taken 
               Pa's place and is leaning wearily against Ma's shoulder.

                         Ma... you know, if Connie was here I 
                         wouldn't min' any a this.

                         I know, honey, an' just as soon as 
                         we get settled Al's gonna set out 
                         an' look for him. How 'bout gas, 

                         Full up. Uncle John come through 
                         with five bucks he been hol'in' out 
                         on us since we lef' home.

               The TRUCK keeps moving along.

               Then it is night, and the TRUCK is still making distance.

               On a COUNTRY ROAD, in grey dawn, with a deafening clank under 
               the hood, the Joad truck pulls to a stop off the side of the 
               road. Al is driving. Asleep in Tom's arm in the front seat, 
               Ma stirs awake as Al turns off the ignition and gets out. He 
               lifts the hood.

                         She's hotter'n a heifer.

                         Fan-belt's shot.

               He pulls out the pieces. Tom gets out and takes off the 
               radiator cap. There is a geyser of steam. In the back of the 
               truck the others stand looking on, sleepy-eyed.

                              (looking around)
                         Picks a nice place for it, too, don't 

               They all look around. At first they find nothing in sight. 
               Al and Tom look at each other in disgust.

                         Any gas?

                         Gallon or two?

                         Well, looks like we done it this 
                         time awright!

                              (standing in truck)
                         Some smoke up there.

               All look. Tom climbs on the running board the better to see.

                         Looks like about a mile. Reckon she'll 
                         make it?

                         She got to make it.

                              (as they get back in)
                         What is it?

                         Don't know--but it's better'n this.

               As Al starts the truck, the scene dissolves to a weather-
               beaten wooden sign: "PERMANENT CAMP NO. 9"  "DEPT. OF 

               We see the GATE TO THE GOVERNMENT CAMP, a wide gate in a 
               high wire fence, with a caretaker's shack to one side of the 
               gate. The caretaker stands beside his shack as the Joad truck 
               swings off the road, hits an unnoticed rut that bounces the 
               whole truck off the ground, and stops.

                         You hit 'er too fast.

               In the FRONT SEAT Al leans angrily out of the driver's window. 
               Tom is keeping his face away from the caretaker's line of 

                         What's the idea of that?

                         Well, a lot a kids play in here. You 
                         tell folks to go slow and they liable 
                         to forget. But let 'em hit that hump 
                         once and they don't forget!

               Al starts climbing out. Pa jumps down from the truck.

                         Got any room here for us?

                         You're lucky. Fellow just moved out 
                         half-hour ago.
                         Down that line and turn to the left. 
                         You'll see it. You'll be in No. 4 
                         Sanitary Unit.

                         What's that?

                         Toilet and showers and washtubs.

                         You mean you got *washtubs?* An' 
                         runnin' water?

                         Yes, ma'am.
                              (To Al)
                         Camp committee'll call on you in the 
                         morning and get you fixed.


                         No. No cops. Folks here elect their 
                         own cops.
                              (To Ma)
                         The ladies' committee'll call on 
                         you, ma'am, about the kids and the 
                         sanitary unit and who takes care of 
                              (To Al)
                         Come inside and sign up.

               As Ma, Pa, and Al look at each other in almost incredulous 
               bewilderment, Tom climbs out of the truck.

                         Take 'er on down, Al. I'll sign.

                         We gonna stay, ain't we?

                         You're tootin' we're gonna stay.
                              (He follows the 
                              caretaker into the 

               INSIDE THE SHACK, Tom enters warily, alert for any indication 
               that either his name or his scar may have been learned and 
               telegraphed here. But the caretaker obviously attaches no 
               significance to either. The shack is bare but for a cot, a 
               table, a chair, and an electric light. The caretaker is seated 
               at the table, pen in hand, a soiled ledger open, when Tom 

                         I don't mean to be nosy, y'understand. 
                         I just got to have certain 
                         information. What's your name?

                              (watching him)
                         Joad. Tom Joad.

                         How many of you?

               THE JOAD TRUCK is seen in front of its camp site as the Joads 

                         How 'bout it, Uncle John? Gotta pitch 
                         this tent.

                              (groggy with sleep)
                         I'm a-comin'.

                         You don't look so good.

                         I *ain't* so good, but--I'm a-comin'.


                         Camp site costs a dollar a week, but 
                         you can work it out, carrying garbage, 
                         keeping the camp clean--stuff like 

                         We'll work it out. What's this 
                         committee you talkin' about?

                         We got five sanitary units. Each one 
                         elects a central committee man. They 
                         make the laws, an' what they say 

                         Are you aimin' to tell me that the 
                         fellas that run this camp is jus' 
                         fellas--campin' here?

                         That's the way it is.

                              (after a pause)
                         An' you say no cops?

                              (shaking his head)
                         No cop can come in here without a 

                         I can't hardly believe it. Camp I 
                         was in once, they burned it out--the 
                         deputies an' some of them poolroom 

                         They don't get in here. Sometimes 
                         the boys patrol the fences, especially 
                         dance nights.

                         You got dances too?

                         We got the best dances in the county 
                         every Saturday night.

                         Say, who runs this place?


                         Why ain't they more like it?

                         *You* find out, I can't.

                         Anything like work aroun' here?

                         Can't promise you that, but there'll 
                         be a licensed agent here tomorrow 
                         mornin', if you want to talk to him.

                         Ma's shore gonna like it here. She 
                         ain't been treated decent for a long 

                              (as Tom is at the 
                         That cut you got?

                         Crate fell on me.

                         Better take care of it. Store 
                         manager'll give you some stuff for 
                         it in the morning. Goodnight.


               As he exits we see the GOVERNMENT CAMP, with Tom coming out 
               of the shack, amazement still on his face. As he walks slowly 
               down the main camp street we share the revelation of the 
               place to him. It is nearly daylight. Roosters crow in the 
               distance. The street is neat and orderly in a military way, 
               its cleanliness in sharp contrast to anything he has known 
               before. Inside the tents people are stirring. In front of 
               one tent a woman is cooking breakfast. A baby is in her arms.

                         Good mornin'.


               As he walks on, Tom draws a breath of exultation. As he moves 
               on, looking around, we see the EXTERIOR OF SANITARY UNIT NO. 
               4, a cheap frame building the purpose of which is pretty 
               obvious. Ruthie, warily alert lest she be caught, is peering 
               in the door. She looks a long time and then she runs out of 
               the scene.

               WINFIELD is seen asleep in a quilt on the ground when Ruthie 
               enters and rousts him out.

                              (in an excited whisper)
                         Git up. I got sump'n to show you.

                         Whatsa matter?

                              (tugging him)
                         It's them white things, made outa 
                         dish-stuff, like in the catalogues!

               He stumbles after her.

               THE EXTERIOR OF SANITARY UNIT NO. 4. Ruthie is putting on a 
               bold front as she leads Winfield into sight but she is still 
               alert for interference.

                         Come on. Ain't nobody gonna say 

                         Won't they ketch us?

               He follows her into the unit, big-eyed with excitement and 
               apprehension. There is a silence. Then:

                                     RUTHIE'S VOICE
                         Them's where you wash your han's.

               Another silence. Then:

                                     WINFIELD'S VOICE
                         What's these?

                                     RUTHIE'S VOICE
                         Well, I reckon you *stan'* in them 
                         little rooms--an' water come down 
                         outa that there little jigger up 
                         there--take a bath!

               Another silence. Then:

                                     WINFIELD'S VOICE
                         Jes' like in the catalogues, ain't 

                                     RUTHIE'S VOICE
                         I seen 'em b'fore you did.

                                     WINFIELD'S VOICE
                         What's this?

                                     RUTHIE'S VOICE
                              (in alarm)
                         Now don't you go monk'ing--

               There is the sound of a toilet flushing. It is a cheap toilet 
               and it is a loud flush which eventually ends in a long 
               refilling of the tank just as loudly. There is a paralyzed 
               silence. Then:

                                     RUTHIE'S VOICE
                         Now you done it! You busted it!

                                     WINFIELD'S VOICE
                         I never--

               Terrified, Winfield comes dashing out of the unit but Ruthie 
               grabs him just outside the door. Beginning to cry, he 
               struggles to get away.

                         Lemme go! I didn't go to do it!

                         Keep qui'te, will ya! Shet your mouth!

                         I never knowed it! All I done was 
                         pull that string!

                         Lissen. You done busted it. You hear?
                              (They listen to the 
                              refilling of the 
                         But lissen here. I won't tell nobody, 

                         Please don't.

                         I won't--
                         --if you won't tell what *I* done!

               He nods quickly. Then Ruthie begins to walk away with what 
               she fancies is an innocent, nonchalant stroll, yawning 
               casually. Sniffling a little, Winfield mimics her, a very 
               innocent walk and yawn indeed.

               The scene dissolves to a DITCH. Alongside the ditch are some 
               lengths of concrete pipe. Tom and the two Wallaces are in 
               the ditch, Tom and Tim picking, Wilkie shoveling.

                         If this don't feel good!

                         Wait'll about 'leven o'clock, see 
                         how good she feels then!

                         Seems like a nice frien'ly fella to 
                         work for, too.

                         Lotta these little farmers mighty 
                         nice fellas. Trouble is they're 
                         little, they ain't got much say-so.

                         Shore looks like my lucky day, anyway. 
                         Gettin' some work at las'.

               Mr. Thomas, the farmer, a stock man wearing a paper sun 
               helmet, enters. His face is worried as he squats down beside 
               the ditch. What he has come to say has taken some effort and 
               he is still uncertain and annoyed. The men stop work.

                         Lissen here. Maybe I'm talkin' myself 
                         outa my farm, but I like you fellas, 
                         so I'm gonna tell you. You live in 
                         that gov'ment camp, don't you?

                         Yes, sir.

                         And you have dances every Saturday 

                         We sure do.

                         Well, look out next Saturday night.

                              (suddenly tense)
                         What you mean? I belong to the central 
                         committee. I got to know.

                         Don't you ever tell I told.

                         What is it?

                         Well, the association don't like the 
                         government camps. Can't get a deputy 
                         in there. Can't arrest a man without 
                         a warrant. But if there was a big 
                         fight, and maybe shooting--a bunch 
                         of deputies could go in and clean 
                         out the camp.
                              (Unfolding a newspaper)
                         Like last night. Lissen. "Citizens, 
                         angered at red agitators, burn another 
                         squatters' camp, warn agitators to 
                         get out of the county."

                              (sick of the expression)
                         Listen. What *is* these reds? 
                         Ever'time you turn aroun' somebody 
                         sayin' somebody else's a red. What 
                         is these reds, anyway?

                         Well, I tell you. They was a fella 
                         up the country named King--got about 
                         30,000 acres an' a cannery an' a 
                         winery--an' he's all a time talkin' 
                         about reds. Drivin' the country to 
                         ruin, he says. Got to git rid of 
                         'em, he says. Well, they was a young 
                         fella jus' come out an' he was 
                         listenin one day. He kinda scratched 
                         his head an' he says, "Mr. King, 
                         what *is* these reds you all a time 
                         talkin' about?" Well, sir, Mr. King 
                         says, "Young man, a red is any fella 
                         that wants thirty cents a hour when 
                         I'm payin' twenty-five."

                         I ain't talkin' about that one way 
                         or the other. All I'm saying is that 
                         there's going to be a fight in the 
                         camp Saturday night. And there's 
                         going to be deputies ready to go in.

                         But why? Those fellas ain't botherin' 

                         I'll tell you why. Those folks in to 
                         being treated like humans. Suppose 
                         the Government closes its camps.  
                         Suppose too many people pass through 
                         'em. Well, when those people go back 
                         to the squatters' camps they'll be 
                         hard to handle.
                              (Wiping his brow)
                         Go on back to work now. Maybe I've 
                         talked myself into trouble, but you're 
                         folks like us, and I like you.

                              (extending his hand)
                         Nobody won't know who tol'. We thank 
                         An' they ain't gonna be no fight, 

               They shake hands.

               The scene dissolves to the GATE TO THE CAMP, at night. It is 
               Saturday evening, the night of the dance. Glaring electric 
               lights hang over the open gate. Parked jalopies line the 
               highway as the invited guests, small farmers and migrants 
               from other camps and their families, arrive to be greeted 
               and checked by a committee of three men.

                                     COMMITTEE MAN
                         Ev'nin', ma'am. Who'd you say invited 

                         Mister an' Mizz Clark, they ast us.

                                     COMMITTEE MAN
                         Yes, ma'am. Come right in, ma'am.

               There is an air of eager anticipation, of gay celebration, 
               and everyone is in his or her best--the men in clean washed 
               overalls, clean shirts, some with ties, their hair damp and 
               slicked down, the women in their nicest. Through the gate, 
               inside the camp, can be seen the outdoor dance floor, brightly 
               lighted, with the camp musicians already tuning up, and around 
               the dance floor scores of wide-eyed children.

               INSIDE THE GATE TO THE CAMP, we see Wilkie and a dark-
               complexioned man named Jule standing among a group inside 
               watching the arrivals. They watch sharply, eyeing everyone, 
               listening to every credential. As his employer, Thomas, comes 
               through the gate with his wife, Wilkie grins and greets him 
               with a handshake.

                         Hidy, Mr. Thomas. Hidy, Mizz Thomas.

                              (sotto voce)
                         You watching out, ain't you?

                         Don't you worry. Ain't gonna be no 

                         I hope you know what you're talking 
                              (He moves away, Wilkie 
                              grinning after him)

               We see the DANCE FLOOR, and after three pats of the foot, to 
               get the tempo, the home talent dance orchestra swings into 

               INSIDE THE JOAD TENT, Rosasharn dressed in her nicest, sits 
               gripping her hands together, the music seeming to bring her 
               to the verge of tears.

                              (Ma turns from drying 
                         Ma, I--I can't go to the dance. I 
                         jus' can't Ma. I can't hardly stan' 
                         it, with Connie not here--an' me 
                         this way.

                              (trying to cheer her)
                         Why, honey, it makes folks happy to 
                         see a girl that way--makes folks 
                         sort of giggly an' happy.

                         I can't he'p it, Ma. It don't make 
                         *me* giggly an' happy.

               Drying her hands, Ma sits beside Rosasharn and takes her in 
               her arms.

                         You an' me's goin' together--jus' 
                         you an' me. We're a-goin' to that 
                         dance an' we're a-goin' to jus' set 
                         an' watch. If anybody says to come 
                         dance--why I'll say you're poorly. 
                         But you an' me, we're gonna hear the 
                         music an' see the fun.

                         An' you won't let nobody touch me?

                         No--an' look what I got for you.

               Smiling mysteriously, Ma fishes in a pocket in her dress and 
               brings out the envelope of her treasures. From it she produces 
               the earrings and holds them up in front of Rosasharn's wide 

                         I used to wear these--when your pa 
                         come callin' on me.
                              (Then as she puts 
                              them on Rosasharn's 
                         You'll look pretty in 'em tonight.

               They smile at each other, proud in the luxury of ornaments.

               Down the road from the GATE a touring car with six men pulls 
               of the pavement and stops. Three men get out. They are 
               bareheaded and dressed similar to the other migrants. They 
               stroll down the highway toward the gate. The other men, 
               deputies, sit watching them.

               WITHIN THE GATE:

                         They tell me you're half Injun. You 
                         look all Injun to me.

                         No, jes' half. Wisht I was full-
                         blooded. Gov'ment'd be lookin' out 
                         for me an' I'd be ridin' around in a 
                         Buick eight.

               The three men from the touring car are at the gate. Wilkie 
               and Jule watch them.

                                     COMMITTEE MAN
                         Who give you the invitation?

                         Fella named Jackson--Buck Jackson.

                                     COMMITTEE MAN
                         Okay. Come on in.

               The three men stroll past Wilkie and Jule, whose eyes follow 

                         Them's our fellas.

                         How you know?

                         Jes' got a feelin'. They're kinda 
                         scared too. Follow 'em an' get a 
                         holt of Jackson. See if he knows 
                         'em. I'll stay here.

               Wilkie moves after them.

               We see the DANCE FLOOR. The musicians are at it and the 
               fiddler is calling turns.

                         Swing your ladies an' a dol ce do. 
                         Join han's roun' an' away we go! 
                         Swing to the right an' a swing to 
                         the lef'. Break, now break--back to 

               Well in front, among the older folks and children who surround 
               the floor, are Ma and Rosasharn, clinging close. A young man 
               stops in front of them.

                         Thank you kin'ly but she ain't well.

               As Rosasharn's eyes drop. Ma bends toward her, a shy smile 
               on her face.

                         Maybe you wouldn't think it, but 
                         your pa was as nice a dancer as I 
                         ever seen, when he was young.
                              (With a little sigh)
                         Kinda makes me think a ol' times.

               The three men stroll into sight and stand watching the 
               dancing. One glances at Ma and Rosasharn but does not speak. 
               Ma has smiled back at him.

               WILKIE AND JACKSON are seen; removed somewhat from the dance 
               floor they are peering in the direction of the three men.

                         I seen 'em before. Worked at 
                         Gregorio's with 'em. But I never ast 

                         Awright. Keep your eye on 'em. Jus' 
                         keep 'em in sight, that's all.
                              (He moves quickly 

               We find ourselves INSIDE TIM WALLACE'S TENT.  The five members 
               of the central committee, Tim Wallace, chairman, look grave 
               as a 15-year-old boy reports.

                         I seen 'em, Mr. Wallace. A car with 
                         six men parked down by the euc'lyptus 
                         tree an' one with three men on the 
                         main road. They got guns, too. I 
                         seen 'em.

                         Thank you, Willie. You done good.
                              (As Willie exits)
                         Well, it looks like the fat's in the 
                         far this time.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         What them deppities want to hurt the 
                         camp for? How come they can't leave 
                         us be?

                                     SECOND MAN
                         What we oughta do, we oughta git us 
                         some pickhandles an'--

                         No!  That's what they want. No sir. 
                         If they can git a fight goin', then 
                         they can run in the cops an' say we 
                         ain't orderly--
                              (He stops as Wilkie 
                              enters followed by 

                         They're here. We got 'em spotted.

               There is a grim pause at this news. Tim's eyes go hard.

                              (to Tom)
                         You sure you got ever'thing ready?

                         Ain't gonna be no trouble.

                         You ain't to hurt them fellas.

                         You don't have to worry. We got 
                         ever'thing arranged. Maybe nobody'll 
                         even see it.

                         Just don't use no stick nor no knife, 
                         no piece a arn. An' if you got to 
                         sock 'em, sock 'em where they won't 

                         Yes, sir.

                         Awright. An' if she gets outa han', 
                         I'll be in the right han' corner, 
                         this side the dance floor.

                         Ain't gonna get outa han'.

               Wilkie makes a mocking military salute as he and Tom exit. 
               The committee men look worriedly after them.

                                     FIRST MAN
                         Mighty sure a themselves, looks like.

                         All I hope, I hope they don't kill 

               In front of the JOAD TENT, dressed to kill, is Al, ready for 
               the festivities. He wears a tight-fitting wool suit, a tie 
               on his shirt, yellow shoes, and his hair is damp and slicked 
               down. He rubs his hands together in anticipation as he strolls 
               in the direction of the dance floor.

               At ANOTHER TENT, a blonde girl sits on a box as Al enters. 
               Casually he throws open his coat, revealing a vivid striped 
               shirt. This is designed to stun his quarry.

                         Gonna dance tonight?
                              (The girl 
                              ostentatiously ignores 
                         I can waltz.

                         That's nothin'--anybody can waltz.

                              (shaking his head)
                         Not like me!

               A fat woman thrusts her head out of the tent.

                         You git right along! This here girl's 
                         spoke for. She's gonna be married, 
                         an' her man's a-comin' for her.

               Shrugging, Al winks at the girl and moves on, stepping and 
               moving his shoulders and snapping his fingers in time to the 
               music, a very gay fellow indeed. The blonde girl's eyes follow 
               him. Then she turns and glances cautiously toward the tent.

               ON THE DANCE FLOOR, we see Ma and Rosasharn as Tom enters 
               and stands between them. This is during a pause between dances 
               and only a few couples stand on the floor waiting for the 
               music to begin again. We also see the three men very casually 
               looking around--but no more casual looking than Wilkie, 
               standing just behind them, idly whistling.

                         She's gettin' prettier, Ma.

                              (as Rosasharn hides 
                              her face)
                         Girl with a baby *always* gets 

               The music starts again, once more the dancers move onto the 
               dance floor. The three men exchange a glance and step casually 
               to the edge of the dancing space, one in the lead. They survey 
               the scene, but for the moment make no further move. The 
               atmosphere is tense.

                         Excuse me, Ma.
                              (He moves quietly out 
                              of the scene, toward 
                              the three men)

               AL, taking the blonde girl's hand, steps onto the dance floor. 
               Encircling her waist, they begin to dance. They are a smooth, 
               rhythmic couple who move as one being.

                         Well, you said anybody can waltz... 
                         How'm *I* doin'?

                                     BLONDE GIRL
                         Don't hold me so tight.

                         Why, I ain't hardly touchin' you!

                                     BLONDE GIRL
                         You're *ticklin' me!*

                              (grabbing her still 
                         That comes from not holdin' you tight 

                                     BLONDE GIRL
                              (complaining but loving 
                         Now I can't breathe.

               At this moment the leader of the three men (the other two 
               directly behind him) enters the scene.

                         I'll dance with this girl.

                         You an' who else?

               Behind the three men a solid wall of migrants are closing in 
               quietly, Tom and Wilkie in the middle.

                         Don't gimme no argament--
                              (A shrill whistle 
                              sounds in the distance)
                         --you little--

               His fist goes back, his left hand reaches for Al's collar. 
               At the same instant Tom grabs him, Wilkie claps his hand 
               over the leader's mouth, at least fifteen other men have 
               similarly collard the other two invaders, and they are all 
               lifted bodily. There is not a sound as the three men, held 
               in iron grips, are whisked from the dance floor and into the 

               Two touring cars have stopped in front of the closed GATE 
               and the deputies have drawn guns.

                         Open up! We hear you got a riot.

                         Riot? I don't see no riot. Who're 

                         Deputy sheriffs.

                         Got a warrant?

                         We don't need a warrant if it's a 

                         Well, I don't know what you gonna do 
                         about it, because I don't hear no 
                         riot an' I don't see no riot, an' 
                         what's more I don't believe they 
                         *is* no riot.
                              (Waving toward the 
                              dance floor)
                         Look for yourself.

               As the deputies, puzzled and uncertain, look toward the DANCE 
               FLOOR, we see the music, the dancing, the gaiety continuing 
               as if nothing had happened.

               WITHIN THE JOAD TENT at night, several hours later: the tent 
               is black, Tom strikes a match. From a piece of wood on the 
               ground or floor he selects one from several cigarette butts 
               and lights it. While he is doing so, he lifts his head 
               suddenly, and listens.

               In the CAMP STREET we catch sight of legs walking, the ground 
               lighted from a flashlight. Two pairs of the legs wear state 
               policemen's leather leggings. The third pair are the 
               caretaker's. They stop behind a car. The flashlight plays on 
               the license plate. One of the state cops leans down to copy 
               the license number in a booklet. Then they move on.

               TOM has lifted the edge of the tent a trifle, enough to see 
               out by flattening his head on the floor. The LEGS are now 
               seen at the Joad jalopy. The light is on the license plate. 
               The cop leans over and copies the number. They move on.

               TOM, lowering the edge of the tent, sits up. Quietly he pushes 
               aside the piece of carpet that covers him. He is wearing his 
               clothes. We see the policeman's CAR at the caretaker's hut. 
               The two policemen get into the car.

                         You got no right to arrest anybody 
                         without a warrant, you know.

                                     FIRST COP
                         We'll have a warrant--just as soon 
                         as we check with headquarters.

               The car drives off, leaving the caretaker looking somberly 
               after it.

               WITHIN THE JOAD TENT, his cap on, fully dressed for travel, 
               Tom is tieing the ends of the carpet into a shoulder bundle. 
               Rising, he slings it across his shoulder. As he tiptoes toward 
               the door:

                         Ain't you gonna tell me goodbye, 

               For a moment he looks into the darkness in her direction.

                         I didn't know, Ma. I didn't know if 
                         I ought.

               She has risen, pulling the quilt around her. He takes her by 
               the hand.

                         Come outside.

               They go out. Tom leads Ma around BEHIND THE TENT, to a SECTION 
               OF WIRE FENCE. There is a bench there. Tom leads Ma to it 
               and sits her down. He sits beside her.

                         They was some cops here, Ma. They 
                         was takin' down the license numbers. 
                         It looks like somebody knows sump'n.

                         It had to come, I reckon, soon or 

                         I'd like to stay. I'd like to be 
                         with ya--
                         --an' see your face when you an' Pa 
                         get settled in a nice little place. 
                         I sure wish I could see you then. 
                              (shaking his head)
                         --I guess I won't never be able to 
                         do that. Not now.

                         I could hide you, Tommy.

                              (touching her hand)
                         I know you would, Ma. But I ain't 
                         gonna let you. You hide somebody 
                         that's kilt a man an'... an' you'd 
                         be in trouble too.

                              (touching his face 
                              with her fingers)
                         Awright, Tommy. What you figger you 
                         gonna do?

                         You know what I been thinkin' about, 
                         Ma? About Casy. About what he said, 
                         what he done, an' about how he died. 
                         An' I remember all of it.

                         He was a good man.

                         I been thinkin' about us, too--about 
                         our people livin' like pigs, an' 
                         good rich lan' layin' fallow, or 
                         maybe one fella with a million acres, 
                         while a hundred thousan' farmers is 
                         starvin'. An' I been wonderin' if 
                         all our folks got together an' yelled--

                         Tommy, they'll drive you, an' cut 
                         you down like they done to Casy.

                         They gonna drive me anyways. Soon or 
                         later they'll get me, for one thing 
                         if not another. Until then...

                         You don't aim to kill nobody, Tom!

                         No, Ma. Not that. That ain't it. But 
                         long as I'm a outlaw, anyways, maybe 
                         I can do sump'n. Maybe I can jus' 
                         fin' out sump'n. Jus' scrounge aroun' 
                         an' try to fin' out what it is that's 
                         wrong, an then see if they ain't 
                         sump'n could be done about it.
                         But I ain't thought it out clear, 
                         Ma. I can't. I don't know enough.

                              (after a pause)
                         How'm I gonna know 'bout you? They 
                         might kill you an' I wouldn't know. 
                         They might hurt you. How'm I gonna 

                              (laughing uneasily)
                         Well, maybe it's like Casy says, a 
                         fella ain't got a soul of his own, 
                         but on'y a piece of a big soul--the 
                         one big soul that belongs to ever'body--
                         an' then...

                         Then what, Tom?

                         Then it don't matter. Then I'll be 
                         all aroun' in the dark. I'll be 
                         ever'where--wherever you look. 
                         Wherever there's a fight so hungry 
                         people can eat, I'll be there. 
                         Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a 
                         guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the 
                         way guys yell when they're mad--an' 
                         I'll be in the way kids laugh when 
                         they're hungry an' they know supper's 
                         ready. An' when our people eat the 
                         stuff they raise, an' live in the 
                         houses they build, why, I'll be there 

                         I don't understan' it, Tom.

                         Me neither.
                         It's jus' stuff I been thinkin' about. 
                         Gimme you han', Ma. Good-by.
                              (He climbs over the 

                         Good-by, Tom. Later--when it's blowed 
                         over--you'll come back? You'll try 
                         to fin' us?

                         Sure. Good-by.

                         Good-by, Tommy.

               He walks away. She stands looking after him. He's leaving 
               her forever--she knows it. She lifts her hand and waves. She 
               tries to smile. TOM turns, waves, smiles. His lips form the 
               words: "Good-by, Ma." Then he strides away into the darkness.

               The scene fades out.

               The JOAD TRUCK fades in. It stands loaded in front on the 
               Joad tent while Al, Pa, Uncle John, Ma, and the little fellas 
               pile in the last article in a fury of excitement. Beyond, in 
               the background, another jalopy is being prepared for travel 
               with the same feverish haste. It is day.

                                     AL, PA, JOHN
                              (ad lib)
                         Get them buckets on! Somebody tie 
                         down the mattress! You little fellas 
                         keep outa the way!

                              (from the other truck, 
                         What y'all hurryin' so for? Tell me 
                         they got twenny days work.

                         Yes, sir, an' we aim to git in all 
                         twenny of 'em.

               Other jalopies in the background are being readied for leaving--
               an excited, hopeful exodus on a new report of work.

                         Ready, Ma?

                         I'll get Rosasharn.

                         All aboard, ever'body! All aboard 
                         for Fresno!

               Ma comes out of the tent supporting Rosasharn tenderly. For 
               the plumpness has gone from the girl and she is thin again, 
               her face drawn and unhappy, her eyes swollen with weeping 
               and suffering.

                         Try to be strong, honey. Someday 
                         it'll be diff'rent--someday you'll 
                         have another one. You're still jus' 
                         a little girl, remember.

               Pa takes Rosasharn's other arm. He and Al and Uncle John 
               help Rosasharn onto the truck. She lies down on the mattress, 
               her face away from them.

                         Make her easy, John. Watch her.

                         She'll be awright.

                              (in the driver's seat)
                         Ready, Pa?

                              (as he and Ma climb 
                              in the front seat)
                         Let 'er go, Gallagher!

               The truck wabbles into motion. Al races the engine. It nearly 
               crashes another wheezing jalopy at the corner. When it turns 
               the corner we see the GATE, and a line of loaded jalopies 
               that ride out to the highway. The caretaker waves and the 
               migrants wave back.

                         Good luck to you! Good luck, 

                                     THE JOADS
                         Good-by, Mr. Conway! Much oblige to 
                         you for ever'thing!

               The Joad truck turns onto the highway. In the FRONT SEAT Al 
               is driving, Ma in the middle, Pa on the outside.

                         Twenty days work, oh boy!

                         Be glad to get my han' on some cotton. 
                         That's the kin' a pickin' I 

                         Maybe. Maybe twenny days work, maybe 
                         *no* days work. We ain't got it till 
                         we get it.

                         Whatsa matter, Ma? Gettin' scared?

                              (smiling faintly)
                         No. Ain't ever gonna be scared no 
                              (After a pause)
                         I was, though. For a while I thought 
                         we was beat--*good* an' beat. Looked 
                         like we didn't have nothin' in the 
                         worl' but enemies--wasn't *no*body 
                         frien'ly anymore. It made me feel 
                         bad an' scared too--like we was 
                         lost... an' nobody cared.

                         Watch me pass that Chevvy.

                         You the one that keeps us goin', Ma. 
                         I ain't no good any more, an' I know 
                         it. Seems like I spen' all my time 
                         these days a-thinkin' how it use'ta 
                         be--thinkin' of home--an' I ain't 
                         never gonna see it no more.

               Ma places her hand on one of Pa's and pats it.

                         Woman can change better'n a man. Man 
                         lives in jerks--baby born, or somebody 
                         dies, that's a jerk--gets a farm, or 
                         loses one, an' that's a jerk. With a 
                         woman it's all one flow, like a 
                         stream, little eddies, little 
                         waterfalls, but the river it goes 
                         right on. Woman looks at it like 

                              (at the jalopy ahead)
                         Look at that ol' coffeepot steam!

                              (thinking of what Ma 
                         Maybe, but we shore takin' a beatin'.

                         I know. Maybe that makes us tough. 
                         Rich fellas come up an' they die, 
                         an' their kids ain't no good, an' 
                         they die out. But we keep a-comin'. 
                         We're the people that live. Can't 
                         nobody wipe us out. Can't nobody 
                         lick us. We'll go on forever, Pa. 
                         We're the people.
                              (She says this with a 
                              simple, unaffected 

               The TRUCK, steaming and rattling and churning, passes the 
               Chevrolet and Al leans out of the window and waves a jeering 
               hand at it. As the Joad truck pulls in front, we see Ruthie 
               and Winfield laughing with excitement over the triumph. Even 
               Uncle John shares the general satisfaction. Grinning, he 
               waves. As the truck moves away along the road, all three and 
               beaming and waving. Further along the truck passes a sign on 
               the side of the road. It says NO HELP WANTED.

               The scene fades out.

                                         THE END

Grapes of Wrath, The

Writers :   Nunnally Johnson
Genres :   Drama

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