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                                  MEET JOHN DOE
                                     
                             Written by Robert Riskin
                                     
               based on a story by Richard Connell and Robert Presnell



                                      
                         Ext. Bulletin Office - Sidewalk.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of a time-worn plaque against 
                         the side of a building. It reads:
 
                                                              
                         THE BULLETIN
                                     
                         "A free press for a free people."
                                     
                         While we read this, a pair of hands 
                         come in holding pneumatic chisel which 
                         immediately attacks the sign. As the 
                         lettering is being obliterated,
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Close-up: A new plaque 
                         on which the lettering has been changed 
                         to:
                                      
                         THE NEW BULLETIN
                                     
                         "A streamlined newspaper for a streamlined 
                         era."
                                      
                         Cut to: Int. Bulletin outer office. 
                         Full shot: Of a mid-western newspaper 
                         office.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At a door at which a sign-painter 
                         works. He is painting HENRY CONNELL's 
                         name on the door. It opens and a flip 
                         office boy emerges. The painter has 
                         to wait until the door closes in order 
                         to resume his work.
                                      
                         Full shot: Of the outer office. The 
                         activity of the office seems to suddenly 
                         cease, as all eyes are centered on the 
                         office boy.
                                      
                         Med. shot—panning: With the office boy—who 
                         has a small sheet of paper in his hand. 
                         He walks jauntily to a desk, refers 
                         to his paper, points his finger to a 
                         woman, emits a short whistle through 
                         his teeth, runs a finger across his 
                         throat and jerks his thumb toward managing 
                         editor's office. The woman stares starkly 
                         at him while her immediate neighbors 
                         look on with sympathy. The office boy 
                         now goes through the same procedure 
                         with several other people. All watch 
                         him, terror written in their eyes.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Toward CONNELL's office door 
                         where painter works. It opens and three 
                         people emerge. Two men and a girl. The 
                         girl is young and pretty. All three 
                         look dourful. The painter again has 
                         to wait for the door to shut before 
                         resuming his work. The two men exit. 
                         The girl suddenly stops.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of the girl. Her name is 
                         ANN MITCHELL. She stands, thinking, 
                         and then suddenly, impulsively, wheels 
                         around. Camera pans with her as she 
                         returns to CONNELL's office door, flings 
                         it open and disappears. The painter 
                         remains poised with his brush, waiting 
                         for the door to swing back. There is 
                         a slight flash of resentment in his 
                         eyes.
                                      
                         Int. CONNELL's office. Full shot: CONNELL 
                         is behind his desk on which is a tray 
                         of sandwiches and a glass of milk, half 
                         gone. Near him sits POP DWYER, another 
                         veteran newspaperman. ANN crosses to 
                         CONNELL's desk.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (on phone)
                                     
                         Yeh, D. B. Oh, just cleaning out the 
                         dead-wood. Okay.
                                      
                         ? 580 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (supplicatingly)
                                     
                         Look, Mr. Connell . . . I just can't 
                         afford to be without work right now, 
                         not even for a day. I've got a mother 
                         and two kid sisters to . . .
                                      
                         Secretary enters. (Her name is Mattie.)
 
                                                              
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         More good luck telegrams.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Well, you know how it is, I, I've just 
                         got to keep working. See?
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Sorry, sister. I was sent down here 
                         to clean house. I told yuh I can't use 
                         your column any more. It's lavender 
                         and old lace![1]
                                      
                         (flicks dictograph button)
                                     
                         MATTIE
                                     
                         (over dictograph)
                                     
                         Yeah?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Send those other people in.
                                     
                         MATTIE
                                     
                         (over dictograph)
                                     
                         Okay.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         I'll tell you what I'll do. I get thirty 
                         dollars a week. I'll take twenty-five, 
                         twenty if necessary. I'll do anything 
                         you say.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         It isn't the money. We're after circulation. 
                         What we need is fireworks. People who 
                         can hit with sledge hammers—start arguments.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, I can do that. I know this town 
                         inside out. Oh, give me a chance, please.
 
                                                              
                         She can get no further, for several 
                         people enter. They are cowed and frightened. 
                         ANN hesitates a moment, then, there 
                         being nothing for her to do, she starts 
                         to exit. She is stopped by CONNELL's 
                         voice.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         All right, come in, come in! Come in!
 
                                                              
                         (to Ann)
                                     
                         Cashier's got your check.
                                     
                         (back to others)
                                     
                         Who are these people? Gibbs, Frowley, 
                         Cunningham, Jiles—
                                      
                         (to Ann at door)
                                     
                         Hey, you, sister!
                                     
                         Ann turns.
                                     
                         ? 581 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Don't forget to get out your last column 
                         before you pick up your check!
                                      
                         ANN's eyes flash angrily as she exits.
 
                                                              
                         Int. Outer Office. Med. shot: ANN storms 
                         out. The painter again has to wait for 
                         the door to swing back to him.
                                      
                         Int. ANN's office. Full shot: ANN enters 
                         her office and paces around, furious. 
                         A man in alpaca sleeve-bands enters. 
                         His name is JOE.
                                      
                         JOE
                                     
                         You're a couple o' sticks[2] shy in 
                         your column, Ann.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (ignores him, muttering . . .)
                                     
                         A big, rich slob like D. B. Norton buys 
                         a paper—and forty heads are chopped 
                         off!
                                      
                         JOE
                                     
                         Did you get it, too?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah. You, too? Oh, Joe . . . oh, I'm 
                         sorry darling . . . why don't we tear 
                         the building down!
                                      
                         JOE
                                     
                         Before you do, Ann, perhaps you'd better 
                         finish this column.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah. Lavender and old lace!
                                     
                         Suddenly she stops pacing. Her eyes 
                         widen as a fiendish idea strikes her.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Wait, Joe—wait!
                                     
                         She flops down in front of her typewriter.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (muttering)
                                     
                         Wants fireworks, huh? Okay!
                                     
                         She begins to pound furiously, her jaw 
                         set.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Eyes flashing as she 
                         types.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOE, watching her. The 
                         wild look in her eye and the unnatural 
                         speed of her typing causes him to stare 
                         dumbly at her.
                                      
                         Med. shot: ANN bangs away madly. Finally 
                         she finishes. She whips the sheet out 
                         of the typewriter, hands it to JOE.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Here.
                                     
                         As JOE takes it, ANN begins to empty 
                         the drawers of her desk.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOE reading what ANN has 
                         written.
                                      
                         ? 582 ?
                                     
                         JOE
                                     
                         (reading)
                                     
                         "Below is a letter which reached my 
                         desk this morning. It's a commentary 
                         on what we laughingly call the civilized 
                         world. 'Dear Miss Mitchell: Four years 
                         ago I was fired out of my job. Since 
                         then I haven't been able to get another 
                         one. At first I was sore at the state 
                         administration because it's on account 
                         of the slimy politics here we have all 
                         this unemployment. But in looking around, 
                         it seems the whole world's going to 
                         pot, so in protest I'm going to commit 
                         suicide by jumping off the City Hall 
                         roof!' Signed, A disgusted American 
                         citizen, John Doe.'"
                                      
                         JOE pauses to absorb this.
                                     
                         JOE
                                     
                         (continues reading)
                                     
                         "Editor's note . . . If you ask this 
                         column, the wrong people are jumping 
                         off roofs."
                                      
                         JOE glances up toward ANN, in mild protest.
 
                                                              
                         JOE
                                     
                         Hey, Ann, this is the old fakeroo, isn't 
                         it?
                                      
                         Full shot: ANN has just about accumulated 
                         all her things. JOE stares at her, knowing 
                         it's a fake.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Never mind that, Joe. Go ahead.
                                     
                         JOE shrugs, shakes his head, and exits. 
                         ANN stuffs her things under her arm 
                         and also goes.
                                      
                         Int. Outer office: Med. shot: Voices 
                         ad lib—"Awfully sorry you're not going." 
                         "Good-bye." (Laughing)
                                      
                         ANN comes out. Suddenly, she stops, 
                         gets another idea, picks up a book from 
                         a desk, and reaches back to heave it.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At CONNELL's office door. 
                         The sign-painter has just finished CONNELL's 
                         name, and as he leans back, pleased, 
                         wiping his brushes, the book flies in. 
                         The painter lifts his head slowly, his 
                         wrath too great to find utterance.
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to: Int. GOVERNOR JACKSON's 
                         office: Close-up: Of two of GOVERNOR'S 
                         ASSOCIATES.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         (reading newspaper)
                                     
                         " . . . and it's because of the slimy 
                         politics that we have all this unemployment 
                         here."
                                      
                         (agitated)
                                     
                         There it is! That's D. B. Norton's opening 
                         attack on the Governor!
                                      
                         2ND MAN
                                     
                         Why Jim, it's just a letter sent in 
                         to a column.
                                      
                         JIM
                                     
                         No, no. I can smell it. That's Norton!
 
                                                              
                         While he speaks, the GOVERNOR has entered.
 
                                                              
                         ? 583 ?
                                     
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         Good morning, gentlemen. You're rather 
                         early.
                                      
                         MEN
                                     
                         'Morning. 'Morning, Governor.
                                     
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         You're here rather early.
                                     
                         JIM
                                     
                         (pushes paper over to him)
                                     
                         Did you happen to see this in the New 
                         Bulletin, Governor?
                                      
                         He emphasizes the word "new" cynically.
 
                                                              
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         Yes. I had it served with my breakfast 
                         this morning.
                                      
                         2ND MAN
                                     
                         Jim thinks it's D. B. Norton at work.
 
                                                              
                         JIM
                                     
                         Of course it is!
                                     
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         Oh, come, Jim. That little item? D. 
                         B. Norton does things in a much bigger 
                         way . . .
                                      
                         JIM
                                     
                         This is his opening attack on you, Governor! 
                         Take my word for it! What did he buy 
                         a paper for? Why did he hire a high-pressure 
                         editor like Connell for? He's in the 
                         oil business! I tell you, Governor, 
                         he's after your scalp!
                                      
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         All right, Jim. Don't burst a blood 
                         vessel, I'll attend to it.
                                      
                         (flips button on dictograph)
                                     
                         Get me Spencer of the Daily Chronicle 
                         , please.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. SPENCER's office: 
                         Med. shot: SPENCER is on the telephone.
 
                                                              
                         SPENCER
                                     
                         Yes. Yes. I saw it, Governor . . . and 
                         if you ask me that's a phoney letter. 
                         Why, that gag has got whiskers on it. 
                         Huh? Okay, I'll get the Mayor and maybe 
                         the Chamber of Commerce to go after 
                         them.
                                      
                         (into dictagraph)
                                     
                         Get Mayor Lovett on the phone!
                                     
                         Int. MAYOR's office: Med. shot: Of MAYOR's 
                         secretary.
                                      
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         (picking up phone)
                                     
                         Hello? Sorry, the Mayor's busy on the 
                         other phone.
                                      
                         ? 584 ?
                                     
                         Camera pans over to the MAYOR who is 
                         fatuous and excitable.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         (into telephone)
                                     
                         Yes, I know, Mrs. Brewster. It's a terrible 
                         reflection on our city. I've had a dozen 
                         calls already.
                                      
                         SECRETARY enters scene.
                                     
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         Spencer of the Chronicle .
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Hold him.
                                     
                         (into phone)
                                     
                         Yes, Mrs. Brewster, I'm listening.
 
                                                              
                         The SECRETARY lays down the receiver.
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to: Int. corner of a bedroom: 
                         Close shot: Of MRS. BREWSTER—stout and 
                         loud. She is propped up in bed—a breakfast 
                         tray on her lap—the newspaper by her 
                         side.
                                      
                         MRS. BREWSTER
                                     
                         I insist that this John Doe man be found 
                         and given a job at once. If something 
                         isn't done. I'll call out the whole 
                         Auxiliary[3] —yes, and the Junior Auxiliary, 
                         too. We'll hold a meeting and see—
 
                                                              
                         Cut to: Int. MAYOR's office: Med. shot: 
                         Of MAYOR. He lays the receiver down 
                         and we continue to hear MRS. BREWSTER's 
                         voice. MAYOR picks up SPENCER's phone.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Yes, Spencer. Who? The Governor? Well, 
                         what about me? it's my building he's 
                         jumping off of! And I'm up for re-election, 
                         too!
                                      
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         Shh!
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         (to Secretary)
                                     
                         What are you doing? Get Connell at the 
                         Bulletin !
                                      
                         (to Spencer)
                                     
                         Why, he's liable to go right past my 
                         window,
                                      
                         (suddenly—to Sec'y—excitably)
                                     
                         What was that?!
                                     
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         What?
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Out the window! Something just flew 
                         by!
                                      
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         I didn't see anything.
                                     
                         ? 585 ?
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         (semi-hysterical)
                                     
                         Well, don't stand there, you idiot. 
                         Go and look. Open the window. Oh, why 
                         did he have to pick on my building?
 
                                                              
                         The SECRETARY, telephone in hand, peers 
                         out window.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Is there a crowd in the street?
                                     
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         No, sir.
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Then he may be caught on a ledge! Look 
                         again!
                                      
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         I think it must have been a sea-gull.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         A sea-gull? What's a sea-gull doing 
                         around the city hall? That's a bad omen, 
                         isn't it?
                                      
                         (picks up Mrs. Brewster's phone)
                                     
                         SECRETARY
                                     
                         Oh, n-no, sir. The sea-gull is a lovely 
                         bird.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         (into telephone)
                                     
                         I-it's all right, Mrs. Brewster. It 
                         was just a sea-gull.
                                      
                         (catches himself)
                                     
                         Er. nothing's happened yet! No, I'm 
                         watching. Don't worry. Ju-just leave 
                         it all to me!
                                      
                         The SECRETARY holds out another phone. 
                         The MAYOR drops MRS. BREWSTER's phone 
                         again, and her voice is still heard.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         (into Spencer's phone)
                                     
                         Spencer, I'll call you back.
                                     
                         Secretary has gotten CONNELL on the 
                         phone—hands phone to MAYOR.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Hello! Connell! This is—
                                     
                         (to Secretary)
                                     
                         What are you doing?
                                     
                         (back to phone)
                                     
                         This is the Mayor.
                                     
                         Int. CONNELL's office: Full shot: CONNELL 
                         is on the phone. POP DWYER is draped 
                         in a chair nearby.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yes, Mayor Lovett! How many times are 
                         you gonna call me? I've got everybody 
                         and his brother and sister out looking 
                         for him. Did you see the box I'm running?
 
                                                              
                         ? 586 ?
                                     
                         He picks up the front page of the Bulletin; 
                         we see a four column box on the front 
                         page.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (reading)
                                     
                         "An appeal to John Doe. 'Think it over, 
                         John. Life can be beautiful,' says Mayor. 
                         'If you need a job, apply to the editor 
                         of this paper . . .'" " and so forth 
                         and so forth . . . Okay, Mayor. I'll 
                         let you know as soon as I have something! 
                         What? . . . Well, pull down the blinds!
 
                                                              
                         (he hangs up)
                                     
                         The door opens and a man enters. His 
                         name is BEANY. Walks fast, talks fast 
                         and accomplishes nothing. Outside, we 
                         see the painter trying once more to 
                         get his sign painted. He reaches in—and 
                         pulls the door to.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         I went up to Miss Mitchell's house, 
                         boss. Boy, she's in a bad way.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Where is she?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, do you know something? She supports 
                         a mother and two kids. What do you know 
                         about that?
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (controlling his patience)
                                     
                         Did you find her?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         No. Her mother's awful worried about 
                         her. When she left the house she said 
                         she was going on a roaring drunk. Er, 
                         the girl, I mean!
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (barking)
                                     
                         Go out and find her!
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Sure. Hey, but the biggest thing I didn't 
                         tell you . . .
                                      
                         CONNELL picks up telephone.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Hello! . . . Yeh?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Her old man was Doc Mitchell. You know, 
                         the doc that saved my mother's life 
                         and wouldn't take any money for it? 
                         You remember that? Okay, boss, I'll 
                         go and look for her.
                                      
                         BEANY exits, knocking over an ash-stand.
 
                                                              
                         ? 587 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (into phone)
                                     
                         Holy smokes, Commissioner. You've had 
                         twenty-four hours! Okay, Hawkshaw, grab 
                         a pencil. Here it is again. She's about 
                         five foot five, brown eyes, light chestnut 
                         hair and as fine a pair of legs as . 
                         . .
                                      
                         The door opens, ANN stands there—CONNELL 
                         sees her.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (into phone—staring at Ann)
                                     
                          . . . ever walked into this office.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At door. The sign painter 
                         is slowly beginning to lose patience. 
                         He again reaches in—pulls the door shut—glaring 
                         at ANN.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (innocently)
                                     
                         Did you want to see me?
                                     
                         Wider shot: CONNELL, without moving, 
                         stares at her.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (quietly—sizzling)
                                     
                         No. I've had the whole army and navy 
                         searching for you because that's a game 
                         we play here every day.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         I remember, distinctly, being fired.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         That's right. But you have a piece of 
                         property that still belongs to this 
                         newspaper. And I'd like to have it!
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         What's that?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         The letter.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         What letter?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         The letter from John Doe.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         The whole town's in an uproar. We've 
                         got to find him. The letter's our only 
                         clue.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (simply)
                                     
                         There is no letter.
                                     
                         ? 588 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         We'll get a handwriting expert to—
 
                                                              
                         (suddenly realizes what she has said)
 
                                                              
                         What!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         There is no letter.
                                     
                         He stares at her for a moment, flabbergasted—exchanges 
                         a look with POP—crosses to the back 
                         door—shuts it—then comes back to face 
                         her.
                                      
                         Close shot: ANN and CONNELL.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Say that again.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         There is no letter. I made it up.
                                     
                         CONNELL looks at her a long moment and 
                         then up at POP.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (repeating dully)
                                     
                         You made it up.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Uh-huh. You said you wanted fireworks.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: As he recovers from the 
                         shock, and then wheels on ANN again.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Don't you know there are nine jobs waiting 
                         for this guy? Twenty-two families want 
                         to board him free? Five women want to 
                         marry him, and the Mayor's practically 
                         ready to adopt him? And you . . .
 
                                                              
                         As CONNELL glares at her the door springs 
                         open and BEANY enters.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         I just called the morgue, boss. They 
                         say there's a girl there—
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Shut up!
                                     
                         Close-up: Of BEANY. He is startled by 
                         this—and then stares popeyed as he sees 
                         ANN.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Ann! Say, why didn't yuh—
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Beany!
                                     
                         Med. shot: At the door. The painter 
                         is beginning to grind his teeth. He 
                         pulls the door shut, viciously.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include all.
                                     
                         ? 589 ?
                                     
                         POP
                                     
                         Only one thing to do, Hank. Drop the 
                         whole business quickly.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         How?
                                     
                         POP
                                     
                         Run a story. Say John Doe was in here, 
                         and is sorry he wrote the letter and—
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (jumps in quickly)
                                     
                         That's right. You got it! Sure! He came 
                         in here and I made him change his mind. 
                         "Bulletin editor saves John Doe's life." 
                         Why, it's perfect. I'll have Ned write 
                         it up.
                                      
                         (into dictograph)
                                     
                         Oh, Ned!
                                     
                         NED'S VOICE
                                     
                         Yeah?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I got a story I want yuh to—
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Wait a minute!
                                     
                         She rushes over—snaps the dictograph 
                         off.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of ANN, leaning on CONNELL's 
                         desk.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Listen, you great big wonderful genius 
                         of a newspaperman! You came down here 
                         to shoot some life into this dying paper, 
                         didn't you?
                                      
                         CONNELL blinks under the attack. POP 
                         and BEANY move into the scene.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Well, the whole town's curious about 
                         John Doe and, boom, just like that you're 
                         going to bury him. There's enough circulation 
                         in that man to start a shortage in the 
                         ink market!
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (thoroughly bewildered)
                                     
                         In what man!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John Doe.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         What John Doe?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Our John Doe! The one I made up! Look, 
                         genius— Now, look. Suppose there was 
                         a John Doe—and he walked into this office. 
                         What would you do? Find him a job and 
                         forget about the whole business, I suppose! 
                         Not me! I'd have made a deal with him!
 
                                                              
                         ? 590 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         A deal?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Sure! When you get hold of a stunt that 
                         sells papers you don't drop it like 
                         a hot potato. Why, this is good for 
                         at least a couple of months. You know 
                         what I'd do? Between now and let's say, 
                         Christmas, when he's gonna jump, I'd 
                         run a daily yarn starting with his boyhood, 
                         his schooling, his first job! A wide-eyed 
                         youngster facing a chaotic world. The 
                         problem of the average man, of all the 
                         John Does in the world.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and CONNELL. Despite himself, 
                         he's interested in her recital.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Now, then comes the drama. He meets 
                         discouragement. He finds the world has 
                         feet of clay. His ideals crumble. So 
                         what does he do? He decides to commit 
                         suicide in protest against the state 
                         of civilization. He thinks of the river! 
                         But no, no, he has a better idea. The 
                         City Hall. Why? Because he wants to 
                         attract attention. He wants to get a 
                         few things off his chest, and that's 
                         the only way he can get himself heard.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         So?
                                     
                         Full shot: Of the whole group. BEANY 
                         grins in admiration. CONNELL has leaned 
                         back in his chair, his eyes glued on 
                         ANN.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         So! So he writes me a letter and I dig 
                         him up. He pours out his soul to me, 
                         and from now on we quote: "I protest, 
                         by John Doe." He protests against all 
                         the evils in the world; the greed, the 
                         lust, the hate, the fear, all of man's 
                         inhumanity to man.
                                      
                         Arguments will start. Should he commit 
                         suicide or should he not! People will 
                         write in pleading with him. But no! 
                         No, sir! John Doe will remain adamant! 
                         On Christmas Eve, hot or cold, he goes! 
                         See?
                                      
                         She finishes, takes a deep breath—awed, 
                         and at the same time proud of her accomplishment.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of CONNELL. He just stares 
                         at ANN.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (after a pause—quietly)
                                     
                         Very pretty. Very pretty, indeed, Miss 
                         Mitchell. But would you mind telling 
                         me who goes on Christmas Eve?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         John Doe.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (loses control—screams)
                                     
                         What John Doe?
                                     
                         ? 591 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (screams right back)
                                     
                         The one we hire for the job, you lunkhead!
 
                                                              
                         There is silence for a moment.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (breaking silence—speaks with a controlled 
                         patience)
                                      
                         Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Lemme 
                         get this through this lame brain of 
                         mine. Are you suggesting we go out and 
                         hire someone to say he's gonna commit 
                         suicide on Christmas Eve? Is that it?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (nodding)
                                     
                         Well, you're catching on.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Who, for instance?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Anybody! Er, er—Beany'll do!
                                     
                         Close-up: BEANY. He is petrified.
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Why sure—Who? Me? Jump off a—Oh, no! 
                         Any time but Christmas. I'm superstitious.
 
                                                              
                         Full shot: BEANY backs away from them—and 
                         when he gets to the door—makes a dash 
                         for it.
                                      
                         Int. Outer office: Med. shot: At door. 
                         As BEANY comes dashing out, he almost 
                         upsets the painter from the stool. When 
                         the door is shut, the name of "Connell" 
                         which he has been printing is all smudged 
                         over. The painter stares at it, helplessly 
                         for a second, and then—unable to stand 
                         it any more, rises, throws his brush 
                         violently to the floor—after completely 
                         smearing the sign himself.
                                      
                         Full shot:
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (sighing)
                                     
                         Miss Mitchell, do me a favor, will you? 
                         Go on out and get married and have a 
                         lot o' babies—but stay out o' newspaper 
                         business!
                                      
                         POP
                                     
                         Better get that story in, Hank, it's 
                         getting late.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (to CONNELL)
                                     
                         You're supposed to be a smart guy! If 
                         it was raining hundred dollar bills, 
                         you'd be out looking for a dime you 
                         lost some place.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Holy smokes! Wasting my time listening 
                         to this mad woman.
                                      
                         ? 592 ?
                                     
                         He crosses to his desk just as NED enters 
                         from the back door.
                                      
                         NED
                                     
                         Look, Chief! Look what the Chronicle 
                         is running on John Doe. They say it's 
                         a fake!
                                      
                         CONNELL turns sharply.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She was just about 
                         giving up, when she hears this—and her 
                         eyes brighten alertly.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At CONNELL's desk. CONNELL—reading 
                         the paper—becomes incensed.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Why, the no-good—low-down—
                                     
                         (reading)
                                     
                         "John Doe story amateur journalism. 
                         It's palpably phoney. It's a wonder 
                         anyone is taking it seriously." What 
                         do yuh think of those guys!
                                      
                         ANN has walked into scene while CONNELL 
                         is reading.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         That's fine! That's fine! Now fall right 
                         into their laps. Go ahead. Say John 
                         Doe walked in and called the whole thing 
                         off. You know what that's going to sound 
                         like on top of this!
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (doesn't like Ned hearing all this)
 
                                                              
                         That's all, Ned. Thank you.
                                     
                         NED
                                     
                         All right.
                                     
                         NED, puzzled, exits. CONNELL comes away 
                         from his desk and walks around.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (fighting spirit)
                                     
                         "Amateur journalism", huh? Why, the 
                         bunch of sophomores! I can teach them 
                         more about—
                                      
                         But he is interrupted by the front door 
                         being flung open. On the threshold stands 
                         BEANY.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, boss. Get a load of this.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (joins him in the doorway)
                                     
                         What?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Look!
                                     
                         Med. shot: Over their shoulders. In 
                         the outer office are a large group of 
                         derelict-looking men. Some standing—some 
                         sitting—some leaning. It looks like 
                         the lobby of a flophouse had been transplanted.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Beany and Connell.
                                     
                         ? 593 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         What do they want?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         They all say they wrote the John Doe 
                         letter.
                                      
                         Med. shot: POP and ANN have walked over 
                         and also peer out.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (amused, turns)
                                     
                         Oh, they all wrote the letter?
                                     
                         ANN pushes CONNELL aside—talks to BEANY.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Tell them all to wait.
                                     
                         She shuts the door and turns to CONNELL.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Look, Mr. Connell—one of those men is 
                         your John Doe. They're desperate and 
                         will do anything for a cup of coffee. 
                         Pick one out and you can make the Chronicle 
                         eat their words.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. A broad smile 
                         slowly spreads over his face.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I'm beginning to like this.
                                     
                         Med. shot: POP looks worried.
                                     
                         POP
                                     
                         If you ask me, Hank, you're playing 
                         around with dynamite.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         No, no, no, the gal's right. We can't 
                         let the Chronicle get the laugh on us! 
                         We've got to produce a John Doe now.
 
                                                              
                         (muttering)
                                     
                         Amateur journalism, huh!
                                     
                         (starts for door)
                                     
                         I'll show those guys.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Sure—and there's no reason for them 
                         to find out the truth, either.
                                      
                         (significantly)
                                     
                         Because, naturally, I won't say anything.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL turns sharply, stares at her 
                         a moment puzzled, then grins.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (grinning)
                                     
                         Okay, sister, you get your job back.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Plus a bonus.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         What bonus?
                                     
                         ? 594 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She takes the plunge. 
                         She is a little frightened at her own 
                         nerve, but she is going to brazen it 
                         out.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (tries to drop it casually)
                                     
                         Oh, the bonus of a thousand dollars 
                         the Chronicle was going to pay me for 
                         this little document. You'll find it 
                         says, er: "I, Ann Mitchell, hereby certify 
                         that the John Doe letter was created 
                         by me—"
                                      
                         Med. shot: As she speaks, she gets the 
                         "little document" out of her bag, hands 
                         it to CONNELL who glares at her, takes 
                         the paper and starts to read. Ann leans 
                         over his shoulder. POP peers over his 
                         other shoulder.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I can read. I can read!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Sorry.
                                     
                         She backs away. CONNELL continues reading 
                         her confession.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         So you think this is worth a thousand 
                         dollars, do you?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (very carelessly)
                                     
                         Oh, the Chronicle would consider it 
                         dirt cheap.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Packs everything, including a gun.
 
                                                              
                         (flings paper on desk)
                                     
                         Okay, sister, you've got yourself a 
                         deal. Now let's take a look at the candidates. 
                         The one we pick has gotta be the typical 
                         average man. Typical American that can 
                         keep his mouth shut.
                                      
                         POP
                                     
                         Show me an American who can keep his 
                         mouth shut and—I'll eat him.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (opens door)
                                     
                         Okay, Beany, bring 'em in one at a time.
 
                                                              
                         (he steps back and rubs his hands in 
                         anticipation)
                                      
                         Wipe to: Montage: Half a dozen different 
                         types of hoboes appear—and in each instance 
                         ANN shakes her head, negatively.
                                      
                         Wipe to: Close shot: Of a TALL CHAP, 
                         head hanging shyly.
                                      
                         Two shot: Of ANN and CONNELL. They are 
                         impressed.
                                      
                         Full shot: ANN and CONNELL exchange 
                         hopeful glances and begin slowly walking 
                         around the new candidate.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of TALL CHAP. He feels awkward 
                         under this scrutiny.
                                      
                         Wider shot: CONNELL stops in his examination 
                         of the man.
                                      
                         ? 595 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Did you write that letter to Miss Mitchell?
 
                                                              
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         No, I didn't.
                                     
                         ANN, CONNELL and POP evince their surprise.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         What are you doing up here then?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Well, the paper said there were some 
                         jobs around loose. Thought there might 
                         be one left over.
                                      
                         They study him for a second, then ANN 
                         walks over close to him.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and TALL CHAP.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Had any schooling?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Yeah, a little.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         What do you do when you work?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         (slight pause)
                                     
                         I used to pitch.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Baseball?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Uh-huh. Till my wing[4] went bad.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Where'd you play?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Bush leagues mostly.[5]
                                     
                         Med. shot: To include the rest of them. 
                         They have their eyes glued on his face. 
                         ANN is very much interested.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         How about family? Got any family?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         No.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Oh, just traveling through, huh?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Yeah. Me and a friend of mine. He's 
                         outside.
                                      
                         ? 596 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL nods to the others to join him 
                         in a huddle. He crosses to a corner. 
                         They follow.
                                      
                         Close three shot: They speak in subdued 
                         voices.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Looks all right—
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         He's perfect! A baseball player. What 
                         could be more American!
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I wish he had a family, though.
                                     
                         POP
                                     
                         Be less complicated without a family.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Look at that face. It's wonderful. They'll 
                         believe him . Come on.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of TALL CHAP. He is a strange, 
                         bewildered figure. He knows he is being 
                         appraised, but doesn't know why. He 
                         fingers his hat nervously and looks 
                         around the room. Suddenly he is attracted 
                         by something.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of tray of sandwiches on CONNELL's 
                         desk.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of TALL CHAP. He swallows 
                         hard. His eyes stare at the sandwiches 
                         hungrily.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Over his shoulder. Shooting 
                         toward the huddling group. It breaks 
                         up. They walk toward him.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Another angle.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         What's your name?
                                     
                         TALL CHAP
                                     
                         Willoughby. John Willoughby, Long John 
                         Willoughby they called me in baseball.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Er, would you, er, would you like to 
                         make some money?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, maybe.
                                     
                         NOTE: Henceforth in this script he shall 
                         be referred to as JOHN DOE.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Would you be willing to say you wrote 
                         that letter—and stick by it?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Oh, I get the idea. Yeah, maybe.
                                     
                         There is an appraising pause, and CONNELL 
                         again signals them to join him in a 
                         huddle. They exit to their corner.
 
                                                              
                         ? 597 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His eyes immediately 
                         go to the sandwiches.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of tray, with sandwiches and 
                         milk, on desk.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His eyes riveted 
                         on tray. He glances, speculatively, 
                         over toward them and then back to the 
                         tray.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the huddled group.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         That's our man. He's made to order.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I don't know. He don't seem like a guy 
                         that'd fall into line.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (it's significant to her)
                                     
                         When you're desperate for money, you 
                         do a lot of things, Mr. Connell. He's 
                         our man, I tell you.
                                      
                         Suddenly, they are startled by a loud 
                         thud: they all look around sharply.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         He's fainted! Get some water quickly!
 
                                                              
                         As all three rush to him.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Hurry up, Pop.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (to John)
                                     
                         Right here. Sit down.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Huh?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Are you all right?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, I'm all right.
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. ANN's office. Close-up: 
                         Of JOHN—sitting at ANN's desk, just 
                         completing a meal—and still eating voraciously.
 
                                                              
                         Camera draws back and we find another 
                         bindle-stiff sitting beside JOHN, packing 
                         food away in silence. He is the friend 
                         JOHN referred to. He is much older and 
                         goes by the name of COLONEL.
                                      
                         Camera continues to pull back revealing 
                         ANN who sits nearby, watching them sympathetically.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: JOHN and the COLONEL. They 
                         continue eating. JOHN glances up and 
                         catches ANN's eye. He smiles self-consciously.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She, too, smiles warmly.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: They continue to eat silently.
 
                                                              
                         ? 598 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         How many is that, six? Pretty hungry, 
                         weren't you?
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Say, all this John Doe business is batty, 
                         if yuh ask me.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Well, nobody asked yuh.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Trying to improve the world by jumping 
                         off buildings. You couldn't improve 
                         the world if the building jumped on 
                         you!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (to Ann)
                                     
                         Don't mind the Colonel. He hates people.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         He likes you well enough to stick around.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Oh, that's 'cause we both play doohickies.[6] 
                         I met him in a box car a couple o' years 
                         ago. I was foolin' around with my harmonica 
                         and he comes over and joins in. I haven't 
                         been able to shake him since.
                                      
                         Full shot: Suddenly, he starts to play 
                         the overture from "William Tell." The 
                         COLONEL whips out an ocarina and joins 
                         him. ANN stares, amused. The door opens 
                         and CONNELL and BEANY barge in, followed 
                         by half a dozen photographers.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         All right, boys, here he is.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (jumping up)
                                     
                         No, no, no! You can't take pictures 
                         of him like that—eating a sandwich—and 
                         with a beard!
                                      
                         She waves the photographers out, and 
                         shuts the door.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         But, he's gonna jump off a building!
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes, but not because he's out of a job. 
                         That's not news! This man's going to 
                         jump as a matter of principle.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Well, maybe you're right.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         We'll clean him up and put him in a 
                         hotel room—under bodyguards. We'll make 
                         a mystery out of him.
                                      
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         Did you speak to Mr. Norton?
                                     
                         ? 599 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (nods)
                                     
                         Thinks it's terrific. Says for us to 
                         go the limit. Wants us to build a bonfire 
                         under every big shot in the state.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, swell! Is that the contract?
                                     
                         (seeing paper in CONNELL's hand)
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yes.
                                     
                         (sees the COLONEL)
                                     
                         What's he doing here?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Friend of his. They play duets together.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Duets? But can we trust him?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I trust him.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Oh, you trust him, eh? Well, that's 
                         fine. I suppose he trusts you, too?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, stop worrying. He's all right.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (insulted)
                                     
                         That's—
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Well, okay. But we don't want more than 
                         a couple o' hundred people in on this 
                         thing. Now the first thing I want is 
                         an exact copy of the John Doe letter 
                         in your own handwriting.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         I got it all ready. Here.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Well, that's fine. Now I want you to 
                         sign this agreement. It gives us an 
                         exclusive story under your name day 
                         by day from now until Christmas. On 
                         December twenty-sixth, you get one railroad 
                         ticket out of town, and the Bulletin 
                         agrees to pay to have your arm fixed. 
                         That's what you want, isn't it?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, but it's got to be by Bone-Setter 
                         Brown.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Okay, Bone-Setter Brown goes. Here, 
                         sign it. Meanwhile, here's fifty dollars 
                         for spending money. That's fine. Beany!
 
                                                              
                         ? 600 ?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Yeah, Boss?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Take charge of him. Get him a suite 
                         at the Imperial and hire some bodyguards.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah, and some new clothes, Beany.
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Do you think we better have him de-loused?
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yeh, yeh, yeh.
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Both of 'em?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yes, both of 'em! But don't let him 
                         out of your sight.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Hey, Beany, gray suit, huh?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Yeah.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Okay, fellows.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Take it easy, John Doe.
                                     
                         JOHN and the COLONEL follow BEANY out.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (turns to Ann)
                                     
                         And you! Start pounding that typewriter. 
                         Oh, boy! This is terrific! No responsibilities 
                         on our part. Just statements from John 
                         Doe and we can blast our heads off.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (interrupting)
                                     
                         Before you pop too many buttons, don't 
                         forget to make out that check for a 
                         thousand.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (grimaces)
                                     
                         Awwwww!
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. Living-room of suite.
 
                                                              
                         Full shot: The door opens and BEANY 
                         enters. He is followed by JOHN and the 
                         COLONEL. JOHN glances around, impressed. 
                         The COLONEL looks glum.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At door. As JOHN exits scene 
                         into the room, tailed by the unhappy 
                         COLONEL. BEANY beckons someone out in 
                         the corridor.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Okay, fellas.
                                     
                         ? 601 ?
                                     
                         Three bruisers stand in the doorway.
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Now, lemme see. You sit outside the 
                         door. Nobody comes in, see. You two 
                         fellas sit in here.
                                      
                         As they reach for chairs,
                                     
                         Cut to: Med. shot: JOHN is pleased as 
                         his gaze wanders around the room.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hey, pretty nifty, huh?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         You ain't gonna get me to stay here.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Sure, you are.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         No, sir. That spot under the bridge 
                         where we slept last night's good enough 
                         for me.
                                      
                         While he speaks, JOHN has managed to 
                         get a glimpse of himself in a mirror—admiring 
                         his new suit.
                                      
                         BELL HOP
                                     
                         Hey, what'll I do with this baggage?
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Aw, stick 'em in the bedroom.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Gimme mine. I ain't staying! You know 
                         we were headed for the Columbia River 
                         country before all this John Doe business 
                         came up. You remember that, don't yuh?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Sure. I remember . . . Say, did your 
                         ears pop coming up in the elevator? 
                         Mine did.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Aw, Long John . . . I tell you—it's 
                         no good. You're gonna get used to a 
                         lotta stuff that's gonna wreck you. 
                         Why, that fifty bucks in your pocket's 
                         beginning to show up on you already. 
                         And don't pull that on me neither!
 
                                                              
                         (as John brings out harmonica)
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Stop worrying, Colonel. I'm gonna get 
                         my arm fixed out of this.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As BEANY enters scene with 
                         box of cigars.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Here's some cigars the boss sent up. 
                         Have one.
                                      
                         JOHN's eyes light up.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hey, cigars!
                                     
                         ? 602 ?
                                     
                         He grabs one and stuffs it in his mouth.
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (to Colonel)
                                     
                         Help yourself.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Naw.
                                     
                         JOHN flops into a luxurious chair—and 
                         immediately ANGELFACE holds a light 
                         up for his cigar. JOHN looks up, pleased.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, I'll bet yuh even the Major Leaguers 
                         don't rate an outfit like this.
                                      
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         (hands him a newspaper)
                                     
                         Here. Make yourself comfortable.
                                     
                         (turns to the Colonel)
                                     
                         Paper?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (sharply)
                                     
                         I don't read no papers and I don't listen 
                         to radios either. I know the world's 
                         been shaved by a drunken barber and 
                         I don't have to read it.
                                      
                         ANGELFACE backs away, puzzled.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (crosses to John)
                                     
                         I've seen guys like you go under before. 
                         Guys that never had a worry. Then they 
                         got ahold of some dough and went goofy. 
                         The first thing that happens to a guy—
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, did yuh get a load of the bedroom?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No.
                                     
                         BEANY beckons to him to follow, which 
                         JOHN does with great interest.
                                      
                         Int. bedroom: Full shot: As BEANY and 
                         JOHN puff luxuriously on their cigars 
                         and examine the room.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (in doorway)
                                     
                         The first thing that happens to a guy 
                         like that—he starts wantin' to go into 
                         restaurants and sit at a table and eat 
                         salads—and cup cakes—and tea—
                                      
                         (disgusted)
                                     
                         Boy, what that kinda food does to your 
                         system!
                                      
                         JOHN pushes on the bed and is impressed 
                         with its softness.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         The next thing the dope wants is a room. 
                         Yessir, a room with steam heat! And 
                         curtains and rugs
                                      
                         ? 603 ?
                                     
                         and 'fore you know it, he's all softened 
                         up and he can't sleep 'less he has a 
                         bed.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of BEANY. He stares, bewildered, 
                         at the COLONEL.
                                      
                         Wider shot: JOHN turns and crosses to 
                         window.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (as he goes)
                                     
                         Hey, stop worrying, Colonel. Fifty bucks 
                         ain't going to ruin me.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         I seen plenty of fellers start out with 
                         fifty bucks and wind up with a bank 
                         account!
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (can't stand it any more)
                                     
                         Hey, whatsa matter with a bank account, 
                         anyway?
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (ignoring him)
                                     
                         And let me tell you, Long John. When 
                         you become a guy with a bank account, 
                         they got you. Yessir, they got you!
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Who's got him?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         The heelots!
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Who?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (at the window)
                                     
                         Hey. There's the City Hall tower I'm 
                         supposed to jump off of. It's even higher 
                         than this.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Who's got him?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         The heelots!
                                     
                         Close-up: JOHN opens window and leans 
                         out.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of BEANY. His eyes pop; he's 
                         petrified.
                                      
                         Med. shot: JOHN stretches far out of 
                         the window, and quickly bounces back.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Wow!
                                     
                         At the same time BEANY springs to his 
                         side and yanks him back.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, wait a minute! You ain't supposed 
                         to do that till Christmas Eve! Wanta 
                         get me in a jam?
                                      
                         ? 604 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (twinkle in his eye)
                                     
                         If it's gonna get you in a jam, I'll 
                         do you a favor. I won't jump.
                                      
                         He exits to the living room.
                                     
                         Int. living room: Full shot: As JOHN 
                         enters, flicking ashes from his cigar, 
                         grandly, the COLONEL leaves the doorway, 
                         still pursuing his point.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         And when they get you, you got no more 
                         chance than a road-rabbit.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (dogging the COLONEL)
                                     
                         Hey. Who'd you say was gonna get him?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, is this one of those places where 
                         you ring if you want something?
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Yeah. Just use the phone.
                                     
                         The thought of this delights JOHN.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Boy! I've always wanted to do this!
 
                                                              
                         He goes to the phone.
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, Doc, look. Look, Doc. Gimme that 
                         again, will yuh? Who's gonna get him?
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         The heelots!
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Who are they?
                                     
                         Two shot: The COLONEL finally levels 
                         off on BEANY.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Listen, sucker, yuh ever been broke?
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Sure. Mostly often.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         All right. You're walking along—not 
                         a nickel in your jeans—free as the wind—nobody 
                         bothers you—hundreds of people pass 
                         yuh by in every line of business—shoes, 
                         hats, automobiles, radio, furniture, 
                         everything. They're all nice, lovable 
                         people, and they let you alone. Is that 
                         right?
                                      
                         Close-up: Of BEANY—nodding his head, 
                         bewildered.
                                      
                         ? 605 ?
                                     
                         COLONEL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Then you get hold of some dough, and 
                         what happens?
                                      
                         BEANY instinctively shakes his head.
 
                                                              
                         Two shot: The COLONEL takes on a sneering 
                         expression.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         All those nice, sweet, lovable people 
                         become heelots. A lotta heels.
                                      
                         (mysterioso)
                                     
                         They begin creeping up on you—trying 
                         to sell you something. They've got long 
                         claws and they get a strangle-hold on 
                         you—and you squirm—and duck and holler—and 
                         you try to push 'em away—but you haven't 
                         got a chance—they've got you! First 
                         thing you know, you own things. A car, 
                         for instance.
                                      
                         BEANY has been following him, eyes blinking, 
                         mouth open.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Now your whole life is messed up with 
                         more stuff—license fees—and number plates—and 
                         gas and oil—and taxes and insurance—
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of the LUGS at the door. 
                         One of them listens with a half-smile 
                         on his face. The other, more goofy, 
                         looks bewildered. He has been listening—and 
                         now, slowly rises, ears cocked, frightened 
                         by the harrowing tale. Camera retreats 
                         before him—as he slowly walks nearer 
                         to BEANY and the COLONEL. Meantime, 
                         we continue to hear the COLONEL'S voice.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL'S VOICE
                                     
                          . . . and identification cards—and 
                         letters—and bills—and flat tires—and 
                         dents—and traffic tickets and motorcycle 
                         cops and court rooms—and lawyers—and 
                         fines—
                                      
                         Wider shot: The LUG steps up directly 
                         behind BEANY—and the two horrified faces 
                         are close together—both staring at the 
                         COLONEL.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         And a million and one other things. 
                         And what happens? You're not the free 
                         and happy guy you used to be. You gotta 
                         have money to pay for all those things—so 
                         you go after what the other feller's 
                         got—
                                      
                         (with finality)
                                     
                         And there you are—you're a heelot yourself!
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of the two heads of BEANY 
                         and the LUG. They continue to stare, 
                         wide-eyed, at the COLONEL.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As JOHN approaches the COLONEL.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (smiling)
                                     
                         You win, Colonel. Here's the fifty. 
                         Go on out and get rid of it.
                                      
                         ? 606 ?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (as he goes)
                                     
                         You bet I will! As fast as I can! Gonna 
                         get some canned goods—a fishing rod, 
                         and the rest I'm gonna give away.
 
                                                              
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         (aghast)
                                     
                         Give away?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (calling)
                                     
                         Hey. Get me a pitcher's glove! Got to 
                         get some practice.
                                      
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         Say, he's giving it away! I'm gonna 
                         get me some of that!
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, come back here, yuh heelot!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (on the phone)
                                     
                         Will you send up five hamburgers with 
                         all the trimmings, five chocolate ice 
                         cream sodas, and five pieces of apple 
                         pie? No, apple, with cheese. Yeah. Thank 
                         you.
                                      
                         JOHN hangs up.
                                     
                         The COLONEL has just reached the door 
                         when it flies open and Ann comes in 
                         with photographer EDDIE—she sees JOHN 
                         all dressed up.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Hello there. Well, well! If it isn't 
                         the man about town!
                                      
                         EDDIE
                                     
                         All set, Ann?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (coming out of it)
                                     
                         Huh? Oh, yes. Let's go.
                                     
                         (she backs away)
                                     
                         Now, let's see. We want some action 
                         in these pictures.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Action?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Um-hum.
                                     
                         JOHN winds up in pitching pose—his left 
                         leg lifted up high.
                                      
                         EDDIE
                                     
                         That's good.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         No, no, no. This man's going to jump 
                         off a roof.
                                      
                         EDDIE
                                     
                         Oh.
                                     
                         ? 607 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Here. Wait a minute. Let me comb your 
                         hair. Sit down. There. That's better.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: She combs his hair—straightens 
                         his tie—etc. He inhales the fragrance 
                         of her hair and likes it—winks to the 
                         others. She poses JOHN's face and looks 
                         it over.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         You know, he's got a nice face, hasn't 
                         he?
                                      
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         Yeh—he's pretty.
                                     
                         JOHN gives him a look and starts to 
                         get up slowly.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Here. Sit down!
                                     
                         (to ANGELFACE)
                                     
                         Quiet, egghead!
                                     
                         (back to JOHN)
                                     
                         All right, now, a serious expression.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Can't. I'm feeling too good.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, come on, now. This is serious. You're 
                         a man disgusted with all of civilization.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         With all of it?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes, you're sore at the world. Come 
                         on, now.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Oh, crabby guy, huh?
                                     
                         He tries scowling.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah. No, no!
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         No! No, look. You don't have to smell 
                         the world!
                                      
                         (the men laugh)
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, all those guys in the bleachers 
                         think—
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Never mind those guys. All right, stand 
                         up. Now let's see what you look like 
                         when you protest.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Against what?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Against anything. Just protest.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         You got me.
                                     
                         ? 608 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, look. I'm the umpire, and you just 
                         cut the heart of the plate with your 
                         fast one and I call it a ball. What 
                         would you do?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (advances toward her)
                                     
                         Oh, yuh did, huh?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Why can't you call right, you bone-headed, 
                         pig-eared, lop-eared, pot-bellied—
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Grab it, Eddie, grab it!
                                     
                         Eddie takes the picture.
                                     
                         A Montage: Of Newspaper inserts featuring 
                         John Doe's picture.
                                      
                         "I protest against collapse of decency 
                         in the world."
                                      
                         "I protest against corruption in local 
                         politics."
                                      
                         "I protest against civic heads being 
                         in league with crime."
                                      
                         "I protest against state relief being 
                         used as political football."
                                      
                         "I protest against County Hospitals 
                         shutting out the needy."
                                      
                         "I protest against all the brutality 
                         and slaughter in the world."
                                      
                         Close-up: Superimposed over all of the 
                         above is a circulation chart—showing 
                         the circulation of the Bulletin in a 
                         constant rise.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. GOVERNOR's study: 
                         Med. shot: The GOVERNOR paces furiously. 
                         In front of him are several associates.
 
                                                              
                         GOVERNOR
                                     
                         I don't care whose picture they're publishing. 
                         I still say that this John Doe person 
                         is a myth. And you can quote me on that. 
                         And I'm going to insist on his being 
                         produced for questioning. You know as 
                         well as I do that this whole thing is 
                         being engineered by a vicious man with 
                         a vicious purpose—Mr. D. B. Norton.
 
                                                              
                         As he finishes saying this, Dissolve 
                         to: Ext. D. B.'s estate:
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. NORTON. Camera pulls 
                         back and we find him on horseback.
 
                                                              
                         Reverse long shot: We discover that 
                         he is watching the maneuvers of a motorcycle 
                         corps who are in uniform. They are being 
                         drilled by TED SHELDON.
                                      
                         ? 609 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: As a groom rides toward D. 
                         B.
                                      
                         GROOM
                                     
                         Mr. Connell and Miss Mitchell are at 
                         the house, sir.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Oh, they are? All right, come on.
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. D. B. 's study: Med. 
                         shot—panning: As ANN, D. B. and CONNELL 
                         enter and cross to D. B. 's desk.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (as they walk)
                                     
                         Personally, I think it's just plain 
                         stupidity to drop it now.
                                      
                         They reach D. B. 's desk and stop.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         You should see his fan mail! Thousands! 
                         Why, it's going over like a house afire!
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of D. B. He studies her a 
                         moment before he turns to CONNELL.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         What are you afraid of, Connell? It's 
                         doubled our circulation.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include all three.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yeah, but it's got everybody sore. Ads 
                         are being pulled—the Governor's starting 
                         a libel suit—what's more, they all know 
                         John Doe's a phoney—and they insist 
                         on seeing him.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Well, what about it? Let them see him! 
                         We'll go them one better. They can also 
                         hear him.
                                      
                         (to D. B.)
                                     
                         You own a radio station, Mr. Norton. 
                         Why not put him on the air?
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. He admires her fight.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Watch out for this dame, D. B. She'll 
                         drive you batty!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Ohh!
                                     
                         ? 610 ?
                                     
                         Wider shot: To include all three.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Look. We can't let 'em get to this bush-league 
                         pitcher and start pumping him. Good 
                         night! No telling what that screwball 
                         might do. I walked in yesterday—here 
                         he is, standing on a table with a fishing 
                         pole flycasting. Take my advice and 
                         get him out of town before this thing 
                         explodes in our faces!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         If you do, Mr. Norton, you're just as 
                         much of a dumb cluck as he is! Excuse 
                         me.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (to Ann—hotly)
                                     
                         No, you've got yourself a meal ticket 
                         and you hate to let go.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Sure, it's a meal ticket for me. I admit 
                         it, but it's also a windfall for somebody 
                         like Mr. Norton who's trying to crash 
                         national politics.
                                      
                         (she turns to D. B.)
                                     
                         That's what you bought the newspaper 
                         for, isn't it? You wanta reach a lotta 
                         people, don't you? Well, put John Doe 
                         on the air and you can reach a hundred 
                         and fifty million of 'em. He can say 
                         anything he wants and they'll listen 
                         to him.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. Fascinated by ANN.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: CONNELL stares at her derisively. 
                         D. B. is completely absorbed.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         All right, let's not forget the Governor, 
                         the Mayor and all small fry like that. 
                         This can arouse national interest! If 
                         he made a hit around here—he can do 
                         it everywhere else in the country! And 
                         you'll be pulling the strings, Mr. Norton!
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of D. B. His eyes have begun 
                         to light up with extensive plans.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: D. B. continues to study 
                         ANN with deep interest. Then he turns 
                         to CONNELL.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Go down to the office and arrange for 
                         some radio time.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (protesting)
                                     
                         Why, D. B., you're not going to fall 
                         for—
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (interrupting sharply)
                                     
                         I want it as soon as possible.
                                     
                         ? 611 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (shrugging)
                                     
                         Okay. I just came in to get warm, myself. 
                         Come on, let's go.
                                      
                         He starts out. ANN picks up her bag, 
                         prepared to follow CONNELL.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Er, don't you go. I want to talk to 
                         you.
                                      
                         CONNELL goes. ANN waits, somewhat nervously.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (when CONNELL is gone)
                                     
                         Sit down.
                                     
                         Med. two shot: ANN and D. B. D. B. studies 
                         her for a moment.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                          . . . Er, this John Doe idea is yours, 
                         huh?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes, sir.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         How much money do you get?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Thirty dollars.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (probingly)
                                     
                         Thirty dollars? Well, er, what are you 
                         after? I mean, what do you want? A journalistic 
                         career?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Money.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (laughs)
                                     
                         Money? Well, I'm glad to hear somebody 
                         admit it. Do you suppose you could write 
                         a radio speech that would put that fellow 
                         over?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, I'm sure I can.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Do it, and I'll give you a hundred dollars 
                         a week.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         A hundred dollars!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         That's only the beginning. You play 
                         your cards right and you'll never have 
                         to worry about money again. Oh, I knew 
                         it.
                                      
                         ANN'S eyes brighten with excitement. 
                         They are interrupted by the arrival 
                         of TED SHELDON, in uniform.
                                      
                         ? 612 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (to TED)
                                     
                         Hello. Whenever there's a pretty woman 
                         around, er—
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         This is my nephew, Ted Sheldon, Miss 
                         Mitchell.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         How do you do.
                                     
                         TED
                                     
                         How do you do!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         All right, Casanova. I'll give you a 
                         break. See that Miss Mitchell gets a 
                         car to take her home.
                                      
                         TED
                                     
                         Always reading my mind, aren't you?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Thank you very much for everything.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         And, Miss Mitchell—I think from now 
                         on you'd better work directly with me.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes, sir.
                                     
                         They exit. D. B. walks to the door, 
                         a pleased expression on his face.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of D. B. His face wreathed 
                         in a victorious smile.
                                      
                         Fade-out.
                                     
                         Fade-in: Int. ANN's living room: Close 
                         shot: Of ANN. She sits at a typewriter 
                         reading something she has written. Suddenly, 
                         impulsively, she yanks the sheet out 
                         of the machine and flings it to the 
                         floor. As she rises, camera pulls back. 
                         We find the floor littered with previously 
                         unsuccessful attempts to get the speech 
                         written. For a moment, ANN paces agitatedly, 
                         until she is interrupted by a commotion.
 
                                                              
                         Med. Shot: At door. ANN's two sisters, 
                         IRENE and ELLEN, aged nine and eleven—and 
                         dressed in their sleeping pajamas, dash 
                         in, squealing mischievously. Camera 
                         pans with them as they rush to ANN and 
                         leap on her.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh! Hey! Oh, hey! I thought you were 
                         asleep!
                                      
                         ELLEN
                                     
                         We just wanted to say good night, Sis.
 
                                                              
                         They embrace and kiss her.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, oh! Oh, you little brats! You're 
                         just stalling. I said good night!
 
                                                              
                         ? 613 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: At door. ANN'S MOTHER appears 
                         in the doorway. She is a prim little 
                         woman—her clothes have a touch of the 
                         Victorian about them—her hair is done 
                         up in old-fashioned style, her throat 
                         is modestly covered in lace.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         (above the din)
                                     
                         Come, come, come, children. It's past 
                         your bedtime.
                                      
                         ELLEN
                                     
                         Oh, all right.
                                     
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Go on!
                                     
                         ELLEN
                                     
                         Come on, Pooch! Come on, come on.
                                     
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Now, keep Pooch off the bed.
                                     
                         The CHILDREN exit, squealing. ANN'S 
                         MOTHER goes to ANN's desk and searches 
                         for something.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Stick a fork through me! I'm done. I'll 
                         never get this speech right.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Oh, yes you will, Ann dear . . . you're 
                         very clever.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah, I know. What are you looking for?
 
                                                              
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Your purse. I need ten dollars.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         What for? I gave you fifty just the 
                         other day.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Yes, I know, dear, but Mrs. Burke had 
                         her baby yesterday. Nine pounds! And 
                         there wasn't a thing in the house—and 
                         then this morning the Community Chest[7] 
                         lady came around and—
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         And the fifty's all gone, huh? Who's 
                         the ten for?
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         The Websters.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         The Websters!
                                     
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         You remember those lovely people your 
                         father used to take care of? I thought 
                         I'd buy them some groceries. Oh, Ann, 
                         dear, it's a shame, those poor—
                                      
                         ? 614 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         You're marvelous, Ma. You're just like 
                         Father used to be. Do you realize a 
                         couple of weeks ago we didn't have enough 
                         to eat ourselves?
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Well, yes, I know, dear, but these people 
                         are in such need and we have plenty 
                         now.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         If you're thinking of that thousand 
                         dollars, forget it. It's practically 
                         gone. We owed everybody in town. Now, 
                         you've just gotta stop giving all your 
                         money away.
                                      
                         Her MOTHER looks up, surprised at her 
                         tone.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Oh, Ann, dear!
                                     
                         Close-up: ANN realizes she has spoken 
                         sharply to her MOTHER and immediately 
                         regrets it. Her face softens.
                                      
                         Med. shot: As ANN crosses to her MOTHER—and 
                         places an arm around her shoulder, tenderly.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, I'm sorry, Ma. Oh, don't pay any 
                         attention to me. I guess I'm just upset 
                         about all this. Gee whiz, here I am 
                         with a great opportunity to get somewhere, 
                         to give us security for once in our 
                         lives, and I'm stuck. If I could put 
                         this over, your Mrs. Burke can have 
                         six babies!
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Do you mean the speech you're writing?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah, I don't know. I simply can't get 
                         it to jell! I created somebody who's 
                         gonna give up his life for a principle, 
                         hundreds of thousands of people are 
                         gonna listen to him over the radio and, 
                         unless he says something that's, well, 
                         that's sensational, it's just no good!
 
                                                              
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Well, honey, of course I don't know 
                         what kind of a speech you're trying 
                         to write, but judging from the samples 
                         I've read, I don't think anybody'll 
                         listen.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         What?
                                     
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Darling, there are so many complaining 
                         political speeches. People are tired 
                         of hearing nothing but doom and despair 
                         on the radio. If you're going to have 
                         him say anything, why don't you let 
                         him say something simple and real, something 
                         with hope in it? If your father were 
                         alive, he'd know what to say.
                                      
                         ? 615 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, yes, Father certainly would.
                                     
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Wait a minute . . .
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Huh?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL crosses to a desk, finds 
                         a key and unlocks a compartment. ANN 
                         watches her, curiously.
                                      
                         Close shot: MRS. MITCHELL extracts a 
                         diary from the compartment, which she 
                         handles very tenderly.
                                      
                         Camera pans with her as she goes back 
                         to ANN.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         That's your father's diary, Ann.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Father's . . . I never knew he had a 
                         diary.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         There's enough in it for a hundred speeches, 
                         things people ought to hear nowadays. 
                         You be careful of it, won't you dear? 
                         It's always helped keep your father 
                         alive for me.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (holds MOTHER's hand to her cheek)
 
                                                              
                         You bet I will, Ma.
                                     
                         Her mother abruptly leaves.
                                     
                         Close-up: ANN turns her attention to 
                         the diary. As she opens it, her eyes 
                         sparkle expectantly. She becomes interested 
                         in the first thing she sees.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. corridor of hotel.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At door of JOHN's suite. 
                         A crowd of people are around the door 
                         trying to crash it. The LUG on guard 
                         stands before the door.
                                      
                         LUG
                                     
                         Wait a minute. John Doe don't wanta 
                         sign no autographs.
                                      
                         INQUIRER
                                     
                         Well, what does he do all day?
                                     
                         LUG
                                     
                         What does he do all day? He's writin' 
                         out his memories!
                                      
                         Cut to: Int. living room.
                                     
                         Med. shot: BEANY is on the telephone. 
                         He is apparently weary from answering 
                         them all day.
                                      
                         ? 616 ?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Sorry, lady. you can't see Mr. Doe. 
                         He wants to be alone. No, no, he just 
                         sits around all day and commutes with 
                         himself.
                                      
                         Camera swings around to JOHN. He stands 
                         in the middle of the floor, his pitcher's 
                         glove on, playing an imaginary game 
                         of ball. He winds up and throws an imaginary 
                         ball.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL. He wears a 
                         catcher's mitt—and smacks it as if he 
                         just caught the ball.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (umpiring)
                                     
                         Ba-ll!
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         I don't know how you're gonna stand 
                         it around here till after Christmas.
 
                                                              
                         Full shot: At the door are the two LUGS, 
                         watching the imaginary ball game. The 
                         COLONEL takes a couple of steps over 
                         home plate, and throws the "ball" back 
                         to JOHN who picks it up out of the air.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (as he steps back behind the plate)
 
                                                              
                         I betcha yuh ain't heard a train whistle 
                         in two weeks.
                                      
                         He crouches on his knees—and gives JOHN 
                         a signal.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         St-rike!
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         I know why you're hangin' around—you're 
                         stuck on a girl—that's all a guy needs 
                         is to get hooked up with a woman.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He shakes his head, 
                         and waits for another sign. When he 
                         gets it, he nods. He steps onto the 
                         mound—winds up and lets another one 
                         go. This is apparently a hit, for his 
                         eyes shoot skyward, and he quickly turns—watching 
                         the progress of the ball as it is flung 
                         to first base. From his frown we know 
                         the man is safe.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of the two LUGS, ANGELFACE 
                         and MIKE. ANGELFACE is seriously absorbed 
                         in the game. MIKE leans against the 
                         wall, eyes narrowed, a plan going on 
                         in his head.
                                      
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         (seriously)
                                     
                         What was that? A single?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (explaining)
                                     
                         The first baseman dropped the ball.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of ANGELFACE.
                                     
                         ? 617 ?
                                     
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         (shouting at "firstbaseman")
                                     
                         Butterfingers!
                                     
                         (back to John)
                                     
                         That's tough luck, Pal.
                                     
                         Med. shot: JOHN disregards him completely. 
                         He is too much absorbed with the man 
                         on first. He now has the stance of a 
                         pitch without the windup.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         When a guy has a woman on his hands—the 
                         first thing he knows his life is balled 
                         up with a lot more things—furniture 
                         and—
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He catches the 
                         "ball"—gets into position—nods to his 
                         catcher—raises his hands in the air, 
                         takes a peek toward first base—and suddenly 
                         wheels around facing camera, and whips 
                         the "ball" toward first base. Almost 
                         immediately his face lights up.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANGELFACE.
                                     
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         Did you get him?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He winks.
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (umpiring)
                                     
                         You're out!
                                     
                         Full shot: JOHN flips the glove off 
                         his hand so that it dangles from his 
                         wrist—and massages the ball with his 
                         two palms.
                                      
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         That's swell! What's this—the end of 
                         the eighth?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Ninth!
                                     
                         He steps into the "pitcher's box".
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: Just as they take their 
                         positions, the LUG, from outside, partly 
                         opens the door.
                                      
                         LUG
                                     
                         Hey, Beany! There's a coupla lugs from 
                         the Chronicle snooping around out here!
 
                                                              
                         BEANY immediately comes from background.
 
                                                              
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Come on, Angelface! Gangway!
                                     
                         As they reach the door, the LUG speaks 
                         to ANGELFACE.
                                      
                         LUG
                                     
                         What's the score, Angelface?
                                     
                         ANGELFACE
                                     
                         Three to two—our favor.
                                     
                         ? 618 ?
                                     
                         LUG
                                     
                         Gee, that's great!
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He has heard this 
                         and grins mischievously. He starts winding 
                         up for another pitch.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of MIKE. He looks around mischievously, 
                         then turns to JOHN.
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         You've got swell form. Must have been 
                         a pretty good pitcher.
                                      
                         Wider shot: JOHN is just receiving the 
                         ball.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Pretty good? Say, I was just about ready 
                         for the major leagues when I chipped 
                         a bone in my elbow. I got it pitchin' 
                         a nineteen-inning game!
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Nineteen!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yep. There was a major league scout 
                         there watching me, too. And he came 
                         down after the game with a contract. 
                         Do you know what? I couldn't life my 
                         arm to sign it. But I'll be okay again 
                         as soon as I get it fixed up.
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         (picks up newspaper—sighing)
                                     
                         That's too bad.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         What do you mean, too bad?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         (pretending distraction)
                                     
                         Huh? Oh, that you'll never be able to 
                         play again.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, what are you talking about? I 
                         just told you I was gonna get a—
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         (interrupting carelessly)
                                     
                         Well, you know how they are in baseball—if 
                         a guy's mixed up in a racket—
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (walking over)
                                     
                         Racket? What do you mean?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Well, I was just thinking about this 
                         John Doe business. Why, as soon as it 
                         comes out it's all a fake, you'll be 
                         washed up in baseball, won't you?
 
                                                              
                         ? 619 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Y-yeah. Gee, doggone it, I never thought 
                         about that. Gosh!
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         And another thing, what about all the 
                         kids in the country, the kids that idolize 
                         ball players? What are they gonna think 
                         about you?
                                      
                         (shakes his head)
                                     
                         Close shot: Of the COLONEL. He has dropped 
                         his glove—flopped into a chair—and has 
                         taken out his ocarina.
                                      
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Hey, did you hear that, Colonel?
                                     
                         The COLONEL nods, disinterestedly, and 
                         begins to play.
                                      
                         Wider shot: JOHN ponders his dilemma 
                         for a second.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I gotta figure some way out of this 
                         thing!
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         The elevators are still runnin'.
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         (carelessly)
                                     
                         I know one way you can do it.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         How?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Well, when you get up on the radio, 
                         all you have to do is say the whole 
                         thing's a frame-up. Make you a hero 
                         sure as you're born!
                                      
                         John thinks this over, but something 
                         troubles him.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, but how am I gonna get my arm 
                         fixed?
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Well, that's a cinch. I know somebody 
                         that'll give you five thousand dollars 
                         just to get up on the radio and tell 
                         the truth.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (eyes popping)
                                     
                         Five thousand dollars?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Yeah. Five thousand dollars. And he 
                         gets it right away. You don't have to 
                         wait till Christmas.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Look out, Long John! They're closing 
                         in on you!
                                      
                         ? 620 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (ignores COLONEL)
                                     
                         Say, who's putting up this dough?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Feller runs the Chronicle .
                                     
                         (takes it out of his pocket)
                                     
                         Here's the speech you make—and it's 
                         all written out for you.
                                      
                         JOHN takes it.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (eyes heaven-ward)
                                     
                         Five thousand dollars! Holy mackerel! 
                         I can see the heelots comin'. The whole 
                         army of them!
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         It's on the level.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. broadcasting station:
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: TELEPHONE OPERATORS.
                                     
                         1ST GIRL
                                     
                         No, I'm sorry. Tickets for the broadcast 
                         are all gone. Phone the Bulletin.
 
                                                              
                         2ND GIRL
                                     
                         Sorry. No more tickets left.
                                     
                         Med. shot: Crowd chattering—they recognize 
                         JOHN DOE coming in.
                                      
                         Close shot: At a side door in broadcasting 
                         station. As the COLONEL and MIKE take 
                         their places.
                                      
                         Int. office in broadcasting station: 
                         Full shot: JOHN is led by BEANY into 
                         the office. They are immediately followed 
                         by several photographers.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Here he is.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Hello, John. All set for the big night? 
                         Swell!
                                      
                         PHOTOGRAPHER
                                     
                         Turn around.
                                     
                         2ND PHOTOGRAPHER
                                     
                         One moment—hold it! Now stand still, 
                         Mr. Doe.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Okay, Beany, take them outside.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and ANN.
                                     
                         ? 621 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Now, look, John. Here's the speech. 
                         It's in caps and double-spaced. You 
                         won't have any trouble reading it. Not 
                         nervous, are you?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Of course not. He wouldn't be.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Who?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John Doe. The one in there.
                                     
                         (pointing to speech)
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, don't let your knees rattle. It 
                         picks up on the mike!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, Beany! You needn't be nervous, John. 
                         All you have to remember is to be sincere.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: Man pokes his head in.
 
                                                              
                         MAN
                                     
                         Pick up the phone, Miss Mitchell. It's 
                         for you.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (takes phone)
                                     
                         Hello? Yes, Mother. Oh, thank you, darling.
 
                                                              
                         Full shot: While she speaks on the phone, 
                         MRS. BREWSTER barges in, accompanied 
                         by two other ladies.
                                      
                         MRS. BREWSTER
                                     
                         Oh, there he is, the poor, dear man! 
                         Oh, good luck to you, Mr. Doe. We want 
                         you to know that we're all for you. 
                         The girls all decided that you're not 
                         to jump off any roof a'tall. Oh, we'll 
                         stop it!
                                      
                         ANN completes the phone call—crosses 
                         to MRS. BREWSTER.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Sorry, ladies. Mr. Doe can't be bothered 
                         now. He's gotta make a speech out there, 
                         and—
                                      
                         While she gets them out—MIKE slips into 
                         the room.
                                      
                         Close shot: MIKE and JOHN.
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Have you got the speech I gave you?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (taps breast pocket)
                                     
                         Yeah.
                                     
                         ? 622 ?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Now, look. I'll give this money to the 
                         Colonel just as soon as you get started. 
                         We'll have a car waiting at the side 
                         entrance for you.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Okay.
                                     
                         Full shot: ANN turns away from the door.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         (to MIKE)
                                     
                         How'd you get in here?
                                     
                         MIKE
                                     
                         Huh? Oh, I just came in to wish him 
                         luck.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Come on, out. Out!
                                     
                         (turning to John)
                                     
                         Mother says good luck, too. John, when 
                         you read that speech, please, please 
                         believe every word of it. He's turned 
                         out to be a wonderful person, John.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Who?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John Doe, the one in the speech.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Oh. Yeah.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         You know something? I've actually fallen 
                         in love with him.
                                      
                         Full shot: They are interrupted by the 
                         arrival of CONNELL. He is accompanied 
                         by several photographers—and a beautiful 
                         girl in a bathing suit. A banner across 
                         her front reads: "Miss Average Girl".
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         All right, there he is, sister. Now, 
                         come on—plenty of oomph!
                                      
                         The GIRL, all smiles, throws her arms 
                         around JOHN's shoulder—and strikes a 
                         languid pose. The flashlights go off.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         What's the idea?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         No, no, no. Now that's too much!
                                     
                         PHOTOGRAPHER
                                     
                         One moment, please.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         This is no time for cheap publicity, 
                         Mr. Connell!
                                      
                         ? 623 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Listen. If that guy lays an egg. I want 
                         to get something out of it. I'm getting 
                         a Jane Doe ready!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (trying to get rid of them)
                                     
                         That's fine, honey. Now, get out!
                                     
                         PHOTOGRAPHER
                                     
                         All right. I need one more.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Go right ahead.
                                     
                         While there is this confusion, the COLONEL 
                         pushes in and stands in the doorway.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         How're you doin'?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (calls to Beany outside)
                                     
                         All right, Beany—bring 'em in!
                                     
                         While CONNELL speaks, two MIDGETS push 
                         the COLONEL out of the way and enter 
                         the room. The COLONEL glances down—and 
                         nearly jumps out of his skin. BEANY 
                         follows them in.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Holy smoke! A half a heelot!
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         There you are, Boss, just like you ordered. 
                         Symbols of the little people.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Okay. Get them up.
                                     
                         BEANY lifts them and places them, one 
                         on each of JOHN's arms. The flashlights 
                         go off.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         This is ridiculous, Mr. Connell! Come 
                         on, give him a chance. The man's on 
                         the air!
                                      
                         While she speaks, she tries to shove 
                         the photographers out.
                                      
                         BOY MIDGET
                                     
                         (to girl midget)
                                     
                         Come on, Snooks—you better bail out.
 
                                                              
                         GIRL MIDGET
                                     
                         (coquettishly)
                                     
                         Goodbye, Mr. Doe!
                                     
                         BEANY lifts her off—and ANN pushes them 
                         all out—just as the STAGE MANAGER reappears.
 
                                                              
                         STAGE MANAGER
                                     
                         Better get ready. One minute to go!
 
                                                              
                         ? 624 ?
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and ANN. ANN turns quickly 
                         to JOHN.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Wow! One minute to go, and the score 
                         is nothing to nothing! Now, please, 
                         John, you won't let me down, will you? 
                         Will you? 'Course you won't. If you'll 
                         just think of yourself as the real John 
                         Doe.
                                      
                         Listen. Everything in that speech are 
                         things a certain man believed in. He 
                         was my father, John. And when he talked, 
                         people listened. They'll listen to you, 
                         too.
                                      
                         Funny—you know what my mother said the 
                         other night? She said to look into your 
                         eyes—that I'd see Father there.
                                      
                         STAGE MANAGER
                                     
                         Hey—what do you say?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Okay! We're coming. Come on!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Now, listen, John. You're a pitcher. 
                         Now, get in there and pitch!
                                      
                         (kisses his cheek)
                                     
                         Good luck.
                                     
                         For a moment he just stares at her, 
                         under a spell. Then, turning, he exits. 
                         After a second of watching him, ANN 
                         follows.
                                      
                         STUDIO OFFICIAL
                                     
                         Give him room, let him through. Come 
                         on.
                                      
                         Int. broadcasting stage: Med. shot: 
                         Camera retreats in front of JOHN and 
                         the official, as they leave the office 
                         and proceed to the microphones. Everyone 
                         stares curiously at JOHN—whispering 
                         to each other.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Shooting through glass partition, 
                         toward control booth. We see the two 
                         men at the board. They glance nervously 
                         at their watches—then at the clock on 
                         the wall.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of ANN. She has taken a 
                         position at a table near the mike. Next 
                         to her sits CONNELL. ANN watches JOHN 
                         with intense interest.
                                      
                         The COLONEL has followed JOHN up to 
                         the microphone.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (to John)
                                     
                         Hey. Let's get out o' here. There's 
                         the door right there.
                                      
                         M.C.
                                     
                         Hey, what're you doing here?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         That's what I'd like to know!
                                     
                         M.C.
                                     
                         Come on, out. Out.
                                     
                         ? 625 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, he's a friend of mine.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (at John's elbow)
                                     
                         Never mind. Let him alone. He's all 
                         right. I'll be right over there pulling 
                         for you.
                                      
                         JOHN starts to follow ANN away from 
                         mike. ANN leads him back to mike again.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         No, John—over here.
                                     
                         2ND M.C.
                                     
                         Stand by.
                                     
                         Med. shot: At door. The COLONEL surreptitiously 
                         tries the door, to see that it opens 
                         readily. Standing near him is BEANY 
                         and the others.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Group around SPENCER. They 
                         wait expectantly. Their eyes sparkling 
                         with excitement.
                                      
                         SPENCER
                                     
                         Phone the Chronicle . Tell 'em to start 
                         getting those extras out.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Toward control booth. The 
                         man with the earphones on has his hand 
                         up ready to give the signal. He listens 
                         a moment, then abruptly drops his hand.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: The man near the announcer 
                         throws his hand up as a signal to someone 
                         off scene.
                                      
                         Med. shot: An orchestra in a corner. 
                         The conductor waves his baton—and the 
                         orchestra blasts out a dramatic fanfare.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: ANNOUNCER and JOHN. ANNOUNCER 
                         holds his script up and the moment the 
                         music stops he speaks dramatically.
 
                                                              
                         ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         (rapid-fire)
                                     
                         And good evening, ladies and gentlemen. 
                         This is Kenneth Frye, speaking for the 
                         New Bulletin . Tonight we give you something 
                         entirely new and different. Standing 
                         beside me is the young man who has declared 
                         publicly that on Christmas Eve he intends 
                         to commit suicide, giving as his reason—quote: 
                         "I protest against the state of civilization." 
                         End quote. Ladies and gentlemen, the 
                         New Bulletin takes pleasure in presenting 
                         the man who is fast becoming the most 
                         talked-of person in the whole country, 
                         JOHN DOE!
                                      
                         The man next to him waves his hand—there 
                         is an outburst of music.
                                      
                         A flash: Of ANN—she looks at JOHN intently.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Group around BEANY. They 
                         all applaud, except for MIKE and the 
                         COLONEL. MIKE, with his hand hanging 
                         down, nudges the COLONEL.
                                      
                         ? 626 ?
                                     
                         Close shot: Of their hands meeting and 
                         we see the envelope change hands. Camera 
                         pans up to the COLONEL's face which 
                         is twisted into a miserable grimace.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He glances around, 
                         uncertainly.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of MIKE and the COLONEL. 
                         MIKE elbows the COLONEL to throw his 
                         signal. The COLONEL looks toward JOHN 
                         and nods his head.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He catches the 
                         COLONEL'S signal and quickly his hand 
                         goes to his pocket. Just as he is about 
                         to bring it out, his hand pauses. He 
                         turns and looks at ANN.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. A warm, pleading look 
                         in her eyes.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Around JOHN. He is still 
                         staring at ANN, when the ANNOUNCER reaches 
                         over and nudges him—pointing to the 
                         mike. JOHN snaps out of it—turns his 
                         face to the mike—pushes the paper back 
                         in his pocket—and starts reading ANN'S 
                         speech.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (reading speech)
                                     
                         Ladies and gentlemen: I am the man you 
                         all know as John Doe.
                                      
                         (clearing his throat)
                                     
                         I took that name because it seems to 
                         describe—because it seems to describe
 
                                                              
                         (his voice unnatural)
                                     
                         the average man, and that's me.
                                     
                         (repeats, embarrassedly)
                                     
                         And that's me.
                                     
                         Med. shot: The COLONEL and MIKE. The 
                         COLONEL realizes JOHN is not going to 
                         make SPENCER'S speech, and his face 
                         breaks into a broad grin. He takes MIKE'S 
                         hand and slaps the envelope into his 
                         palm. Over the shot we hear JOHN'S voice.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Well, it was me—before I said I was 
                         gonna jump off the City Hall roof at 
                         midnight on Christmas Eve. Now, I guess 
                         I'm not average any more. Now, I'm getting 
                         all sorts of attention, from big shots, 
                         too.
                                      
                         Med. shot: To include JOHN and ANN.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Around SPENCER, as MIKE enters 
                         to him and hands him envelope.
                                      
                         MIKE
                                     
                         (whispering)
                                     
                         We've been double-crossed!
                                     
                         SPENCER stares at the envelope, frothing 
                         at the mouth.
                                      
                         SPENCER
                                     
                         We have!?
                                     
                         ? 627 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: Featuring JOHN and ANN.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         The Mayor and the Governor, for instance. 
                         They don't like those articles I've 
                         been writing.
                                      
                         Suddenly they are startled by SPENCER's 
                         voice.
                                      
                         SPENCER'S VOICE
                                     
                         You're an imposter, young fella! That's 
                         a pack of lies you're telling!
                                      
                         Quick flashes: Of reaction from audience, 
                         CONNELL and others.
                                      
                         SPENCER
                                     
                         Who wrote that speech for you?
                                     
                         (pointing accusing finger at JOHN)
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Beany, get that guy!
                                     
                         Med. shot: Around SPENCER. It is as 
                         far as he gets. Several attendants, 
                         BEANY among them, have reached him and 
                         start throwing him out.
                                      
                         Cut to: Int. D. B. NORTON's study: Med. 
                         shot: D. B. and TED SHELDON are listening 
                         to JOHN's speech over the radio. D. 
                         B. is astonished at the disturbance 
                         in the program.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (recognizing the voice)
                                     
                         That's Spencer!
                                     
                         Cut to: Int. broadcasting stage:
                                     
                         Close shot: Of ANNOUNCER.
                                     
                         M.C.
                                     
                         Ladies and gentlemen, the disturbance 
                         you just heard was caused by someone 
                         in the audience who tried to heckle 
                         Mr. Doe. The speech will continue.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Featuring JOHN and ANN.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, people like the Governor
                                     
                         (laughing—ad libs)
                                     
                         People like the Governor and that fella 
                         there can—can stop worrying. I'm not 
                         gonna talk about them.
                                      
                         ANN smiles admiringly.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He is becoming strangely 
                         absorbed in what he is saying.
                                      
                         ? 628 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I'm gonna talk about us, the average 
                         guys, the John Does. If anybody should 
                         ask you what the average John Doe is 
                         like, you couldn't tell him because 
                         he's a million and one things. He's 
                         Mr. Big and Mr. Small. He's simple and 
                         he's wise. He's inherently honest, but 
                         he's got a streak of larceny in his 
                         heart. He seldom walks up to a public 
                         telephone without shoving his finger 
                         into the slot to see if somebody left 
                         a nickel there.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Her eyes are glued 
                         on JOHN.
                                      
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         He's the man the ads are written for. 
                         He's the fella everybody sells things 
                         to. He's Joe Doakes,[8] the world's 
                         greatest stooge and the world's greatest 
                         strength.
                                      
                         (clearing throat)
                                     
                         Yes, sir. Yessir, we're a great family, 
                         the John Does. We're the meek who are, 
                         er, supposed to inherit the earth. You'll 
                         find us everywhere. We raise the crops, 
                         we dig the mines, work the factories, 
                         keep the books, fly the planes and drive 
                         the busses! And when a cop yells: "Stand 
                         back there, you!" He means us, the John 
                         Does!
                                      
                         Cut to: Int. D. B. 's study:
                                     
                         Med. shot: D. B. and TED listen near 
                         the radio. TED's eyes flash angrily.
 
                                                              
                         TED
                                     
                         Well, what kind of a speech is that? 
                         Didn't you read it?
                                      
                         D. B. stops him with a gesture of his 
                         hand. He doesn't want to miss a word.
 
                                                              
                         Cut to: Int. broadcasting stage:
                                     
                         Med. shot: Toward JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         We've existed since time began. We built 
                         the pyramids, we saw Christ crucified, 
                         pulled the oars for Roman emperors, 
                         sailed the boats for Columbus, retreated 
                         from Moscow with Napoleon and froze 
                         with Washington at Valley Forge!
                                      
                         (gasping)
                                     
                         Yes, sir. We've been in there dodging 
                         left hooks since before history began 
                         to walk! In our struggle for freedom 
                         we've hit the canvas many a time, but 
                         we always bounced back!
                                      
                         Med. shot—panning: Around audience—to 
                         get a variety of interested faces.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Because we're the people —and we're 
                         tough!
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         ? 629 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         They've started a lot of talk about 
                         free people going soft—that we can't 
                         take it. That's a lot of hooey! . . 
                         . A free people can beat the world at 
                         anything, from war to tiddle-de-winks, 
                         if we all pull in the same direction!
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: To include radio announcer 
                         and other radio officials. Their interest 
                         centers on JOHN.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I know a lot of you are saying "What 
                         can I do? I'm just a little punk. I 
                         don't count." Well, you're dead wrong! 
                         The little punks have always counted 
                         because in the long run the character 
                         of a country is the sum total of the 
                         character of its little punks.
                                      
                         Int. D. B.'s study. Med. Shot. D. B.'s 
                         expression of disturbance has vanished. 
                         It is now replaced by one of thoughtfulness 
                         and interest. He looks off toward the 
                         foyer, and impulsively goes in that 
                         direction.
                                      
                         Cut to:
                                     
                         Int. foyer.
                                     
                         Med. shot: D. B. crosses to a pantry 
                         door and pushes the swinging door open 
                         slightly.
                                      
                         Int. pantry: Med. shot: All we can see 
                         through the slightly open door is one 
                         side of the room. Clustered around the 
                         radio on a table are all the household 
                         help. They listen, fascinated.
                                      
                         Int. foyer: Closeup of D. B. His eyes 
                         begin to brighten with an idea. Meantime, 
                         over the foregoing shots, JOHN's voice 
                         has continued.
                                      
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         But we've all got to get in there and 
                         pitch! We can't win the old ball game 
                         unless we have team work. And that's 
                         where every John Doe comes in! It's 
                         up to him to get together with his teammate!
 
                                                              
                         Cut to: Int. broadcasting station:
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Closeup: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And your teammates, my friends, is the 
                         guy next door to you. Your neighbor! 
                         He's a terribly important guy, that 
                         guy next door! You're gonna need him 
                         and he's gonna need you . . . so look 
                         him up! If he's sick, call on him! If 
                         he's hungry, feed him! If he's out of 
                         a job, find him one! To most of you, 
                         your neighbor is a stranger, a guy with 
                         a barking dog, and a high fence around 
                         him.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Somewhere in audience.
                                     
                         ? 630 ?
                                     
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Now, you can't be a stranger to any 
                         guy that's on your own team. So tear 
                         down the fence that separates you, tear 
                         down the fence and you'll tear down 
                         a lot of hates and prejudices! Tear 
                         down all the fences in the country and 
                         you'll really have teamwork!
                                      
                         Med. shot: Around BEANY and the LUGS. 
                         They, too, are interested.
                                      
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         I know a lot of you are saying to yourselves: 
                         "He's asking for a miracle to happen. 
                         He's expecting people to change all 
                         of a sudden." Well, you're wrong. It's 
                         no miracle. It's no miracle because 
                         I see it happen once every year. And 
                         so do you. At Christmas time! There's 
                         something swell about the spirit of 
                         Christmas, to see what it does to people, 
                         all kinds of people . . .
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Her eyes go from JOHN 
                         to the audience—as she watches their 
                         reaction.
                                      
                         Full shot: Shooting toward audience 
                         over JOHN's shoulder.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Now, why can't that spirit, that same 
                         warm Christmas spirit last the whole 
                         year round? Gosh, if it ever did, if 
                         each and every John Doe would make that 
                         spirit last three hundred and sixty-five 
                         days out of the year, we'd develop such 
                         a strength, we'd create such a tidal 
                         wave of good will, that no human force 
                         could stand against it.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He has become visibly 
                         affected by the speech himself.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yes, sir, my friends, the meek can only 
                         inherit the earth when the John Does 
                         start loving their neighbors. You'd 
                         better start right now. Don't wait till 
                         the game is called on account of darkness! 
                         Wake up, John Doe! You're the hope of 
                         the world!
                                      
                         He has finished—but does not move. He 
                         drops his head to conceal the moisture 
                         in his eyes.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She, too, remains 
                         seated. Her moist eyes riveted on JOHN.
 
                                                              
                         Med. long shot: Of Audience. There is 
                         no outburst of applause. All continue 
                         to stare forward, emotionally touched.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Of ANN. She runs over to 
                         John.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         John! You were wonderful!
                                     
                         Med. shot: Of the audience. They too 
                         realize it is over—and gradually they 
                         rise and applaud him wildly, and the 
                         radio station rings with cheers.
                                      
                         ? 631 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: JOHN and ANN. JOHN stares 
                         at ANN, then turns to COLONEL.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (as he reaches COLONEL)
                                     
                         Let's get out of here.
                                     
                         They exit through the door at which 
                         the COLONEL has been on guard.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Now you're talking!
                                     
                         Med. shot: At side door. The COLONEL 
                         opens it, and a little crowd of autograph 
                         hounds wait for JOHN.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Gangway, you heelots!
                                     
                         They push their way to a taxi waiting 
                         at the curb.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She stares at them 
                         leaving, follows and tries to stop them, 
                         but her efforts are unsuccessful.
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to: Ext. under a bridge: Med. 
                         shot: JOHN and the COLONEL are in a 
                         secluded spot. The lights of the city 
                         can be seen in the distance. The COLONEL 
                         is building a fire.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         I knew you'd wake up sooner or later! 
                         Boy, am I glad we got out of that mess.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He reaches around 
                         and pulls his pitcher's glove out of 
                         his back pocket, and starts pounding 
                         his fist into it.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I had that five thousand bucks sewed 
                         up! Could have been on my way to old 
                         Doc Brown!
                                      
                         (imitates Ann)
                                     
                         "You're a pitcher, John," she said, 
                         "Now go in there and pitch!
                                      
                         (self-beratingly)
                                     
                         What a sucker!
                                     
                         Wider shot: To include the COLONEL, 
                         who has quite a mound of twigs built, 
                         under which he lights a match.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Yeah, she's a heelot just like the rest 
                         of them. It's lucky you got away from 
                         her.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         What was I doin' up there makin' a speech, 
                         anyway? Me? Huh? Gee, the more I think 
                         about it the more I could . . .
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Tear down all the fences. Why, if you 
                         tore one picket off of your neighbor's 
                         fence he'd sue you!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Five thousand bucks! I had it right 
                         in my hand!
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. D.B.'s study: Close-up: 
                         D.B. on telephone.
                                      
                         ? 632 ?
                                     
                         D.B.
                                     
                         What do you mean, he ran away? Well, 
                         go after him! Find him! That man is 
                         terrific!
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Ext. a box car (process). 
                         Close shot: Of JOHN and the COLONEL. 
                         They play a duet on their instruments.
 
                                                              
                         Fade out:
                                     
                         Fade in: Ext. a small town street—day: 
                         Med. shot: As JOHN and the COLONEL come 
                         from around a corner. Camera pans with 
                         them as they enter "Dan's Beanery".
 
                                                              
                         Int. DAN's Beanery: Full shot: They 
                         enter and flop down on stools. Half 
                         a dozen other customers are present.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Kids dancing to phonograph.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Jitterbugs.[9]
                                     
                         Close shot: JOHN and the COLONEL.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeh. Say, how much money we got left?
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Four bits.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Better make it doughnuts, huh?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Yeh.
                                     
                         DAN
                                     
                         What'll it be, gents?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Have you got a coupla steaks about that 
                         big and about that thick?
                                      
                         (measuring)
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Er, yeh, with hash-brown potatoes and 
                         tomatoes and—and apple pie and ice cream 
                         and coffee—
                                      
                         DAN
                                     
                         And doughnuts! I know. Hey, Ma! Sinkers, 
                         a pair!
                                      
                         MA'S VOICE
                                     
                         Sinkers, a pair, coming up.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Glad he took the "T" out of that.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (sees something off—nudges the Colonel)
 
                                                              
                         Hey look!
                                     
                         ? 633 ?
                                     
                         Long shot: Shooting from their view 
                         through the store window. In the street 
                         outside, a delivery wagon is passing. 
                         On its side is a sign reading "JOIN 
                         THE JOHN DOE CLUB".
                                      
                         Int. DAN's beanery: Close-up: JOHN and 
                         the COLONEL.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Join the John Doe Club.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         John Doe Club?
                                     
                         Close shot: Of the WAITER standing near 
                         the coffee urn. From back of it he has 
                         taken a local paper—on the front page 
                         of which is JOHN's picture. The WAITER 
                         looks at it and then turns his head 
                         to JOHN.
                                      
                         Two shot: JOHN and the COLONEL. They 
                         turn and see the waiter watching them 
                         peculiarly.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Oh-oh.
                                     
                         Wider shot. As the WAITER approaches 
                         them.
                                      
                         WAITER
                                     
                         Are you John Doe?
                                     
                         JOHN lowers his head.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Who?
                                     
                         WAITER
                                     
                         (pointing to paper)
                                     
                         John Doe.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         You need glasses, buddy.
                                     
                         WAITER
                                     
                         Well, he's the spittin' image of—
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Yeah, but his name's Willoughby.
                                     
                         DAN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Long John Willoughby.
                                     
                         (takes glove out of pocket)
                                     
                         I'm a baseball player.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Sure.
                                     
                         DAN
                                     
                         (eyes brightening)
                                     
                         Oh, no. I'd know that voice anywhere. 
                         You can't kid me! You're John Doe! Hey, 
                         Ma! Ma! That's John Doe!
                                      
                         ? 634 ?
                                     
                         John Doe?
                                     
                         DAN
                                     
                         Yeah. Sitting right there, big as life.
 
                                                              
                         CUSTOMER
                                     
                         Who'd you say it was?
                                     
                         DAN
                                     
                         John Doe! The big guy there! Picture's 
                         in the paper!
                                      
                         JOHN gives the COLONEL the office and 
                         they hastily exit. Several customers, 
                         who had gathered around, now evince 
                         interest. DAN identifies JOHN as JOHN 
                         DOE, and the people follow JOHN out 
                         into the street. DAN hastily seizes 
                         the phone.
                                      
                         DAN
                                     
                         Hey, Operator? Dan's Beanery. Look. 
                         Call everybody in town. John Doe was 
                         just in my place. Yeh. He ordered doughnuts.
 
                                                              
                         Long shot: Shooting out of window toward 
                         street. We see JOHN and the COLONEL 
                         as they hurry away, being followed by 
                         the crowd which is gradually growing 
                         larger . . . as we see people crossing 
                         the street to get to them—
                                      
                         TOWNSPEOPLE
                                     
                         There he is!
                                     
                         John Doe!
                                     
                         There he is! Come on!
                                     
                         Gotta see John Doe!
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Ext. sidewalk: Med. shot: 
                         Millville City Hall. The sidewalk is 
                         crowded with people. Those near the 
                         entrance are trying to force their way 
                         in. MAYOR HAWKINS guards the door.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR HAWKINS
                                     
                         I know, you all voted for me and you're 
                         all anxious to see John Doe. We're all 
                         neighbors, but my office is packed like 
                         a sardine box.
                                      
                         GIRL
                                     
                         What does John Doe look like, Mr. Mayor.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR HAWKINS
                                     
                         Oh, he's one of those great big outdoor 
                         type of men. No, you can't see him.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR notices one member of the crowd 
                         particularly.
                                      
                         MAYOR HAWKINS
                                     
                         You didn't vote for me the last time. 
                         Shame on you—get off my front porch!
 
                                                              
                         (turning)
                                     
                         Mr. Norton come yet? What's keeping 
                         him? He should of been here fifteen 
                         minutes ago. Oh, there he comes now. 
                         Now, everybody on your dignity. Don't 
                         do anything to disgrace us. This is 
                         a little town, but we gotta show off.
 
                                                              
                         ? 635 ?
                                     
                         Wider shot: Of curb. From off-scene 
                         we hear the wail of sirens, and as the 
                         crowd on the sidewalk turn they see 
                         two motorcycle cops drive in, followed 
                         by a limousine.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and D. B.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Better let me talk to him.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         All right, but present it to him as 
                         a great cause for the common man.
 
                                                              
                         ANN nods as they start toward building. 
                         Camera pans with them as the cops break 
                         through the curious mob.
                                      
                         Med. shot: MAYOR HAWKINS endeavors to 
                         assist them.
                                      
                         MAYOR HAWKINS
                                     
                         Ah, here he comes! Give him room down 
                         there! Give him room, folks! How do 
                         you do, Mr. Norton! I'm the Mayor—
 
                                                              
                         COP
                                     
                         (to Mayor)
                                     
                         Come back here!
                                     
                         MAYOR HAWKINS
                                     
                         (to cop)
                                     
                         Let me go, you dern fool! I'm the Mayor! 
                         Mr. Norton! I'm Mayor Hawkins. Your 
                         office telephoned me to hold him.
 
                                                              
                         Int. City Hall: Med. shot: As they walk 
                         toward MAYOR'S office.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (to Mayor Hawkins)
                                     
                         Well, that's fine. How is he?
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Oh, he's fine. He's right in my office 
                         there. You know, this is a great honor 
                         having John Doe here, and you too. Haven't 
                         had so much excitement since the old 
                         city hall burned down.
                                      
                         (chuckling)
                                     
                         People were so excited, they nearly 
                         tore his clothes off.
                                      
                         (turns to secretary)
                                     
                         Oh, Matilda darling, phone the newspapers. 
                         Tell them Mr. Norton is here. Step right 
                         inside, Mr. Norton—my office is very 
                         comfortable here, Mr. Norton. Just had 
                         it air-conditioned. Gangway, please. 
                         Make room for Mr. Norton. Gangway, gangway. 
                         Here he is, Mr. Norton, well taken care 
                         of. The neighbors are serving him a 
                         light lunch.
                                      
                         Int. MAYOR's office. Full shot: JOHN 
                         and the COLONEL are surrounded by a 
                         room full of people, including the SHERIFF 
                         in full uniform and several policemen. 
                         JOHN sits at the MAYOR'S desk, which 
                         is filled with edibles. D.B., ANN and 
                         the MAYOR enter. JOHN, upon seeing ANN, 
                         gets to his feet.
                                      
                         ? 636 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Hello, John.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hello.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Mister Mayor, if you don't mind, we'd 
                         like to talk to him alone.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Why, certainly, certainly. All right, 
                         everybody, clear out.
                                      
                         They all start to shuffle out—the MAYOR 
                         excitedly egging them on.
                                      
                         MAYOR'S WIFE
                                     
                         Quit pushing.
                                     
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Don't argue with me here. Wait till 
                         we get home.
                                      
                         WIFE
                                     
                         Don't you push me around like that! 
                         Even though I'm your wife, you can't 
                         push me around—
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Ohhhh!
                                     
                         They all shuffle out, and D.B. shuts 
                         the door. JOHN watches him, doesn't 
                         like his proprietary manner.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Look, Mr. Norton, I think you've got 
                         a lot of nerve having those people hold 
                         us here.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         There's nobody holding you here, Mr. 
                         Doe.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         It's only natural that people—
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, if there's nobody holding us here, 
                         let's get going. Incidentally, my name 
                         isn't Doe. It's Willoughby.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (gets in front of him—pleads)
                                     
                         Look, John. Something terribly important's 
                         happened. They're forming John Doe Clubs. 
                         We know of eight already and they say 
                         that there's going—
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (interested despite himself)
                                     
                         John Doe Clubs? What for?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Uh-huh. To carry out the principles 
                         you talked about in your radio speech.
 
                                                              
                         ? 637 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (regains his former attitude)
                                     
                         I don't care what they're forming. I'm 
                         on my way and I don't like the idea 
                         of being stopped either.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, but you don't know how big this 
                         thing is. You should see the thousands 
                         of telegrams we've received and what 
                         they're saying about you.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Look, it started as a circulation stunt, 
                         didn't it?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Uh-huh . . .
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, you got your circulation. Now, 
                         why don't you let me alone?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, it started as a circulation stunt, 
                         but it isn't any more. Mr. Norton wants 
                         to get back of it and sponsor John Doe 
                         Clubs all over the country. He wants 
                         to send you on a lecture tour.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Me?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Uh-huh.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Why, certainly. With your ability to 
                         influence people, it might grow into 
                         a glorious movement.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, let's get something straight here. 
                         I don't want any part of this thing. 
                         If you've got an idea I'm going around 
                         lecturing to people, why you're crazy! 
                         Baseball's my racket, and I'm sticking 
                         to it. Come on, Colonel, let's get out 
                         of here.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         The beaming COLONEL starts to follow 
                         him to the door. When they get there, 
                         the door suddenly flies open and a crowd 
                         of townspeople push their way in—with 
                         the MAYOR and the SHERIFF trying to 
                         hold them back.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Please, please! I just got rid of one 
                         crowd.
                                      
                         WOMAN
                                     
                         Oh, but please. Mr. Mayor, tell him 
                         the John Doe Club wants to talk to him.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of D. B. He gets an idea. 
                         These people might influence JOHN.
 
                                                              
                         ? 638 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Let them in, Mr. Mayor. Let them come 
                         in.
                                      
                         Full shot: As the MAYOR and the SHERIFF 
                         back away.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Okay, folks, but remember your manners. 
                         No stampeding. Walk slow, like you do 
                         when you come to pay your taxes.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the group. They shuffle 
                         forward grinning happily. Those in the 
                         rear rise on tiptoes for a better look. 
                         The men doff their hats as they come 
                         forward.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of JOHN, the COLONEL, ANN 
                         and D.B. John glances around nervously. 
                         The COLONEL is worried.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the townspeople. They 
                         just stand there, awkwardly, some grinning 
                         sheepishly, others staring at JOHN. 
                         Finally someone nudges a young man in 
                         the foreground and whispers.
                                      
                         SOMEONE
                                     
                         Come on, Bert.
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Okay. All right, give me a chance.
 
                                                              
                         WOMAN
                                     
                         (making room for him)
                                     
                         Come right in.
                                     
                         Wider shot: As the group around JOHN 
                         wait expectantly.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         (clearing throat)
                                     
                         My name's Bert Hansen, Mr. Doe, I'm 
                         the head soda jerker at Schwabacher's 
                         Drug Store.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of BERT—as he plunges into 
                         his story.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, sir, you see, me and my wife, 
                         we heard your broadcast, and we got 
                         quite a bang out of it, especially my 
                         wife.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include JOHN and the 
                         others.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Kept me up half the night saying "That 
                         man's right, honey. The trouble with 
                         the world is—nobody gives a hoot about 
                         his neighbor. That's why everybody in 
                         town's sore and cranky at each other."
 
                                                              
                         And I kept saying, "Well, that's fine, 
                         but how's a guy gonna go around loving 
                         the kind of neighbors we got? Old Sourpuss 
                         for instance!"
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         You see, Sourpuss Smithers is a guy 
                         who lives all alone next door to us. 
                         He's a cranky old man and runs a second-hand 
                         furniture store. We haven't spoken to 
                         him for years. I always figured he was 
                         an ornery old gent that hated the world 
                         cause he was always slamming his garage 
                         door and playing the radio so loud he 
                         kept half the neighbors up.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         ? 639 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of BERT.
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, anyway, the next morning I'm out 
                         watering the lawn and I look over and 
                         there's Sourpuss on the other side of 
                         the hedge straightening out a dent in 
                         his fender and, er, my wife yells to 
                         me out of the window. She says, "Go 
                         on. Speak to him, Bert." And I figured, 
                         well, heck, I can't lose anything—so 
                         I yelled over to him "Good morning, 
                         Mr. Smithers." He went right on pounding 
                         his fender, and was I burned! So I turned 
                         around to give my wife a dirty look 
                         and she said, "Louder, louder. He didn't 
                         hear you." So, in a voice you could 
                         of heard in the next county, I yelled. 
                         "Good morning, Mr. Smithers!"
                                      
                         Med. shot: Featuring JOHN and BERT. 
                         JOHN is very interested.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, sir, you coulda knocked me over 
                         with a feather. Old Sourpuss turned 
                         around surprised like, and he put on 
                         a big smile, came over and took my hand 
                         like an old lodge brother, and he said. 
                         "Good morning, Hansen. I've been wanting 
                         to talk to you for years, only I thought 
                         you didn't like me." And then he started 
                         chatting away like a happy little kid, 
                         and he got so excited his eyes begin 
                         waterin' up.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of a group of neighbors. 
                         They smile sympathetically.
                                      
                         BERT'S VOICE
                                     
                         Well, Mr. Doe, before we got through, 
                         I found out Smithers is a swell egg, 
                         only he's pretty deaf, and that accounts 
                         for all the noises.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include BERT, JOHN and 
                         others.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         And he says it's a shame how little 
                         we know about our neighbors, and then 
                         he got an idea, and he said, "How's 
                         about inviting everybody some place 
                         where we can all get together and know 
                         each other a little better?" Well, I'm 
                         feeling so good by this time, I'm ripe 
                         for anything.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of ANN and D. B. They listen, 
                         amused and excited.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         So Smithers goes around the neighborhood 
                         inviting everybody to a meeting at the 
                         school house and I tell everybody that 
                         comes in the store, including Mr. Schwabacher, 
                         my boss.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Oh, I'm talking too much.
                                     
                         Med. shot: JOHN and BERT.
                                     
                         ? 640 ?
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, I'll be doggoned if over forty 
                         people don't show up. 'Course none of 
                         us knew what to do, but we sure got 
                         a kick out of seeing how glad everybody 
                         was just to say hello to one another.
 
                                                              
                         BERT'S WIFE
                                     
                         Tell him about making Sourpuss chairman, 
                         honey.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Oh, yeah. We made Sourpuss chairman 
                         and decided to call ourselves The John 
                         Doe Club. And, say, incidentally, this 
                         is my wife. Come here, honey.
                                      
                         His WIFE comes forward and stands beside 
                         him.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         This is my wife, Mr. Doe.
                                     
                         MRS. HANSEN nods her head shyly—and 
                         JOHN acknowledges the introduction by 
                         a half wave of his hand.
                                      
                         WIFE
                                     
                         How do you do, Mr. Doe . . . Er, Sourpuss 
                         is here, too.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         (turns around)
                                     
                         Oh, is he?
                                     
                         WIFE
                                     
                         (pointing)
                                     
                         Uh-huh.
                                     
                         Med. shot: Of a group around SOURPUSS. 
                         He is as described, except when he smiles, 
                         his whole face warms up. Those around 
                         him push him forward. At first he looks 
                         bewildered, then, understanding, he 
                         starts toward BERT, grinning sheepishly.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Around BERT—as SOURPUSS comes 
                         forward.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         This is Sourpuss. Er, excuse me. Er, 
                         Mr. Smithers, Mr. Doe.
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Th—that's all right. If you didn't call 
                         me Sourpuss, it wouldn't feel natural.
 
                                                              
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         There are snickers from the background.
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, anyway, I—I guess nearly everybody 
                         in the neighborhood came, except the 
                         DeLaneys. The Delaneys live in a big 
                         house with an iron fence around it and 
                         they always keep their blinds drawn, 
                         and we always figured that he was just 
                         an old miser that sat back counting 
                         his money, so why bother about inviting 
                         him? Until Grimes, the milkman spoke 
                         up and he said, "Say, you've got the 
                         Delaneys all wrong." And then he tells
 
                                                              
                         ? 641 ?
                                     
                         us about how they cancelled their milk 
                         last week, and how, when he found a 
                         note in the bottle he got kinda curious 
                         like and he sorta peeked in under the 
                         blinds and found the house empty. "If 
                         you ask me," he says, "they're starving."
 
                                                              
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Old man Delaney has been bringing his 
                         furniture over to my place at night, 
                         one piece at a time, and selling it.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. Profoundly impressed 
                         by this.
                                      
                         Wider shot: BERT clears his throat.
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeah. And, well, sir, a half a dozen 
                         of us ran over there to fetch them and 
                         we got them to the meeting. What a reception 
                         they got. Why, everybody shook hands 
                         with them and made a fuss over them, 
                         and, well, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Delaney 
                         just sat right down and cried.
                                      
                         He smiles, embarrassed, and JOHN, as 
                         well as the others, clear their throats.
 
                                                              
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         And then we started to find out about 
                         a lot of other people.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeah, sure. Er, you know Grubbel, for 
                         instance.
                                      
                         BERT'S WIFE
                                     
                         Grubbel's here. See?
                                     
                         (pointing)
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeah. That's—that's him. Of course, 
                         you don't know Grubbel, but he's the 
                         man that everybody figured was the worst 
                         no-account in the neighborhood because 
                         he was living like a hermit and nobody'd 
                         have anything to do with him. Er, that 
                         is until Murphy, the postman told us 
                         the truth. "Why, Grubbel," he says, 
                         "he lives out of garbage cans because 
                         he won't take charity. Because it'd 
                         ruin his self-respect," he says.
                                      
                         BERT'S WIFE
                                     
                         Just like you said on the radio, Mr. 
                         Doe.
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Well, sir, about a dozen families got 
                         together and gave Grubbel a job watering 
                         their lawns. Isn't that wonderful? And 
                         then we found jobs for six other people 
                         and they've all gone off relief!
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeh. Er, and my boss, Mr. Schwabacker 
                         made a job in his warehouse for old 
                         man Delaney—
                                      
                         ? 642 ?
                                     
                         WIFE
                                     
                         And he gave you that five dollar raise.
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeah! Wasn't that swell!
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Med. shot: Around MAYOR HAWKINS. He 
                         steps forward.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Why, Bert, I feel slighted. I'd like 
                         to join but nobody asked me.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Around BERT and SOURPUSS.
 
                                                              
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Well, I'm sorry, Mayor, but we voted 
                         that no politicians could join.
                                      
                         BERT'S WIFE
                                     
                         Just the John Does of the neighborhood. 
                         Cause you know how politicians are.
 
                                                              
                         (becomes embarrassed)
                                     
                         Close-up: Of the MAYOR—completely deflated.
 
                                                              
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Yeah . . .
                                     
                         Med. shot: Around JOHN. As they smile, 
                         amused at the MAYOR'S discomfiture.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Around BERT. He looks over 
                         at JOHN, hesitates a moment, and then 
                         speaks.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, er, the reason we wanted to tell 
                         you this, Mr. Doe, was to give you an 
                         idea what you started. And from where 
                         I'm sitting, I don't see any sense in 
                         your jumping off any building.
                                      
                         GROUP
                                     
                         No!
                                     
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         No!
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, thank you for listening. Goodbye, 
                         Mr. Doe. You're a wonderful man and 
                         it strikes me you can be mighty useful 
                         walking around for a while.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. Deeply touched. Shifts 
                         awkwardly, unable to say anything.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: As D. B. and ANN watch his 
                         face to see the effect.
                                      
                         GROUP
                                     
                         Well, goodbye.
                                     
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         Goodbye Mr. Doe.
                                     
                         ? 643 ?
                                     
                         BERT has turned to go, and the rest 
                         follow suit. They all shuffle silently 
                         out.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of an old couple who remain 
                         looking up at JOHN, as those around 
                         them leave. The old lady takes the old 
                         man's arm and starts toward JOHN. Camera 
                         pans with them until they reach him.
 
                                                              
                         OLD LADY
                                     
                         I'm Mrs. Delaney, Mr. Doe . . . and 
                         God bless you, my boy.
                                      
                         (she gently kisses his hand)
                                     
                         The two OLD PEOPLE leave.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He swallows a lump 
                         in his throat. He watches the old people 
                         until they have left, then with a quick 
                         glance at his hand—and self-consciously 
                         in front of the others, stuffs his hand 
                         into his pocket.
                                      
                         Full shot: As they all watch him, without 
                         speaking. JOHN runs his hand through 
                         his hair, stealing a fleeting glance 
                         at the others, and grins awkwardly.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of D. B. as he signals to 
                         the MAYOR and the SHERIFF, who have 
                         remained, to leave.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the MAYOR and the SHERIFF, 
                         who receive the signal and discreetly 
                         exit.
                                      
                         Full shot: They wait for JOHN to speak, 
                         but JOHN begins walking around, profoundly 
                         thoughtful.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL watching him, 
                         concerned.
                                      
                         Two shot: Of D. B. and ANN. Their eyes 
                         glued on him, expectantly.
                                      
                         Full shot: JOHN still paces, disturbed 
                         by clashing emotions. He stops, glances 
                         at the door, a soft, thoughtful expression 
                         in his eyes. Then, as his thought shifts, 
                         he runs his left hand over his pitching 
                         arm.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Gee, whiz—I'm all mixed up—I don't get 
                         it. Look, all those swell people think 
                         I'm gonna jump off a building or something.
 
                                                              
                         He looks toward the door.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I never had any such idea. Gosh! A fella'd 
                         have to be a mighty fine example himself 
                         to go around telling other people how 
                         to—Say, look, what happened the other 
                         night was on account of Miss Mitchell, 
                         here. She wrote the stuff.
                                      
                         ANN walks over to JOHN.
                                     
                         Two shot: ANN and JOHN. She faces him, 
                         looking up into his face.
                                      
                         ? 644 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Don't you see what a wonderful thing 
                         this can be?
                                      
                         (softly)
                                     
                         But we need you , John.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL. He stares 
                         at JOHN, sees him weakening, and grimaces 
                         disgustedly.
                                      
                         Wider shot: The COLONEL watches JOHN 
                         as he continues to turn it over in his 
                         mind.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         You're hooked! I can see that right 
                         now.
                                      
                         They all look up, startled.
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         They got you. Well, I'm through.
                                     
                         (crosses to door—stops, turns)
                                     
                         For three years I've been trying to 
                         get you up to the Columbia River country. 
                         First, it was your glass arm. Then it 
                         was the radio. And now it's the John 
                         Doe clubs. Well, I ain't waiting another 
                         minute.
                                      
                         He opens the door and when he sees the 
                         townspeople still gathered outside, 
                         he yells to them.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Gangway, you heelots!
                                     
                         He pushes his way out.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (calling)
                                     
                         Hey, Colonel! Wait a minute!
                                     
                         He starts after the COLONEL, but when 
                         he gets to the door, the townspeople 
                         surge toward him and block his way.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hey, Colonel!
                                     
                         CROWD
                                     
                         Oh, please, Mr. Doe—
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (calling futilely)
                                     
                         Hey, Colonel!
                                     
                         He tries to peer over the heads of the 
                         townspeople who go on chattering. There 
                         is a trapped look on JOHN's face.
 
                                                              
                         Two shot: D. B. and ANN. They exchange 
                         victorious glances:
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. office of headquarters. 
                         Close shot: Of large map of the U.S. 
                         over the top of which we read: "John 
                         Doe Clubs." There are a dozen pegs scattered 
                         over the map, indicating where the clubs 
                         are. We hear D. B.'s voice.
                                      
                         Camera draws back and we find D. B. 
                         talking to a group of men in front of 
                         him.
                                      
                         ? 645 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         I want you personally to go along with 
                         John Doe and Miss Mitchell and handle 
                         the press and the radio.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         (an experienced promoter)
                                     
                         Me?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Yes. I don't want to take any chances. 
                         And Johnson?
                                      
                         JOHNSON
                                     
                         Yes. D. B.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Your crew will do the mop up job. They'll 
                         follow John Doe into every town, see 
                         that the clubs are properly organized 
                         and the charters issued.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Right.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         There are only eight flags up there 
                         now. I want to see that map covered 
                         before we get through!
                                      
                         Med. shot: D. B. is still speaking as 
                         camera moves down to the map again, 
                         which constantly remains a background 
                         for the montage following. As the montage 
                         proceeds, pegs begin to appear in abundance 
                         on the map.
                                      
                         A montage: Accompanied by a fanfare 
                         of music.
                                      
                         1. Flashes of banners reading:
                                     
                         "JOHN DOE COMING"—"JOHN DOE TONIGHT"
 
                                                              
                         "GOODBYE JOHN DOE, CALL AGAIN"
                                     
                         2. Close-ups of JOHN speaking—superimposed 
                         over long shots of audiences of various 
                         types.
                                      
                         3. Flashes of ANN typing.
                                     
                         4. Flashes of sheets of paper being 
                         ripped out of a typewriter.
                                      
                         5. Flashes of JOHN on the radio—with 
                         ANN by his side.
                                      
                         6. Flashes of people listening.
                                     
                         7. Flashes of people applauding.
                                     
                         8. Series of signs being nailed up: 
                         "JOHN DOE CLUB—BE A BETTER NEIGHOR."
 
                                                              
                         9. Superimposed shots of JOHN and ANN 
                         riding in trains, planes and automobiles.
 
                                                              
                         10. Against stock shots of these cities, 
                         the names zoom up to the fore-ground 
                         of Kansas City, Chicago, Buffalo, Washington, 
                         Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York.
 
                                                              
                         11. Superimpose map over the above titles, 
                         showing the states they are in being 
                         covered with pegs.
                                      
                         12. A picture of JOHN DOE on front page 
                         of Time magazine, with a caption under 
                         it reading: "MAN OF THE HOUR."
                                      
                         ? 646 ?
                                     
                         13. Conference Room.
                                     
                         SPEAKER
                                     
                         This has been growing like wildfire! 
                         If they only made demands, but the John 
                         Does ask for nothing!
                                      
                         14. A man sits at a desk on which is 
                         a nameplate reading: "Relief Administrator."
 
                                                              
                         MAN
                                     
                         People are going off relief! If this 
                         keeps up, I'll be out of a job!
                                      
                         15. Stock shot—of Capitol Hill.
                                     
                         16. Corner of a club smoking room. A 
                         group of legislators—some sit—some stand. 
                         The room is filled with smoke.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         As soon as he gets strong enough, we'll 
                         find out what John Doe wants! Thirty 
                         every Thursday—sixty at sixty—who knows 
                         what!
                                      
                         17. Insert: Sign reading: DEMOCRATIC 
                         HEADQUARTERS. A man reports to the boss 
                         behind the desk.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         I'm sorry, boss. they just won't let 
                         anybody talk politics to them. It's, 
                         it's crazy.
                                      
                         18. Insert: Sign reading: REPUBLICAN 
                         HEADQUARTERS. A man at a desk talks 
                         to several in front of him.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         We've got to get to them! They represent 
                         millions of voters!
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Insert: Of Map. Nearly 
                         every state in the union have pegs in 
                         them, varying in volume. Camera pulls 
                         back and we find the map is on a stand 
                         near a door, the sign on which we see 
                         in reverse. It reads: "OFFICE OF JOHN 
                         DOE HEADQUARTERS."
                                      
                         Int. JOHN DOE headquarters. Med. shot: 
                         D.B. standing behind his desk, speaking 
                         to a group of people in front of him. 
                         We recognize the MAYOR, and the President 
                         of the Chamber of Commerce. Representatives 
                         of several other branches of the City 
                         Administration are also present. CONNELL 
                         sits near D. B.—scrutinizing him thoughtfully. 
                         On the other side of D. B. is TED SHELDON.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this 
                         thing has been nothing short of a prairie 
                         fire. We've received so many applications 
                         for charters to the John Doe Clubs we 
                         haven't been able to take care of them.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR LOVETT
                                     
                         I'd hate to have that many pins stuck 
                         in me!
                                      
                         Group laughs.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         This John Doe convention is a natural. 
                         It's gonna put our city on the map. 
                         Why, over twentyfour hundred John Doe 
                         clubs are sending delegates. Can you 
                         imagine that? You, Mr. Mayor, will be 
                         the official host. You will make the 
                         arrangements for decorating the city, 
                         parades and a reception for John Doe 
                         when he gets home! And—don't wear your 
                         high hat!
                                      
                         ? 647 ?
                                     
                         MAYOR LOVETT
                                     
                         (disappointed)
                                     
                         No high hat?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         No high hat. And from you, Connell, 
                         I want a special John Doe edition every 
                         day until the convention is over.
 
                                                              
                         (dismissing them)
                                     
                         And now, if you will please just step 
                         into the outer office and look your 
                         prettiest because there are photographers 
                         there to take pictures of this committee.
 
                                                              
                         They start to exit. The MAYOR is full 
                         of excitement.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Don't worry, D. B. Everything'll be 
                         taken care of!
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Good.
                                     
                         COMMITTEE WOMAN
                                     
                         Isn't it all too wonderful?
                                     
                         The group, chattering, exit into outer 
                         office.
                                      
                         PHOTOGRAPHER'S VOICE
                                     
                         (from the outer office)
                                     
                         Oh, Mr. Mayor, would you step right 
                         in the front row, please? Will you ladies 
                         get close to him? That's it!
                                      
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. To inter-cut with 
                         above speech. He has been watching D. 
                         B.—deeply disturbed about something.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: All have left except CONNELL, 
                         TED, and D.B. CONNELL rises from his 
                         chair—with a deep sigh.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (shaking his head)
                                     
                         Well, I don't get it.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Huh? Get what?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Look, D. B. I'm supposed to know my 
                         way around. This John Doe movement costs 
                         you a fortune. This convention's gonna 
                         cost plenty.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (annoyed)
                                     
                         Well?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Well, I'm stuck with two and two—but 
                         I'm a sucker if I can make four out 
                         of it.
                                      
                         (cocking his head)
                                     
                         Where do you come in?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Why—uh—
                                     
                         (suddenly smiles)
                                     
                         Why, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing 
                         that my money has been spent for a worthy 
                         cause.
                                      
                         ? 648 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: of CONNELL. He stares at D. 
                         B. a moment. He realizes he has been 
                         told to mind his own business.
                                      
                         Two shot: CONNELL picks up his hat.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I see. I'd better stick to running the 
                         paper, huh?
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         I think maybe you'd better. And Connell—I'd 
                         like to have the John Doe contract, 
                         all the receipts for the money we have 
                         advanced him and the letter Miss Mitchell 
                         wrote, for which I gave her a thousand 
                         dollars.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yes. Sure.
                                     
                         CONNELL leaves.
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. a hotel living room—night. 
                         Full shot: ANN's luggage is packed and 
                         ready to be taken out. She stands near 
                         a desk stuffing papers into a manuscript 
                         case. She seems lost in worried thought. 
                         The door opens as CHARLIE, high pressure 
                         exploitation man, enters.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Well, we leave for the airport in half 
                         an hour. Is that Johnny-boy's room? 
                         I'd better hustle him up!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         He'll be ready on time. He's packing 
                         now.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Ah, good!
                                     
                         (crosses to Ann)
                                     
                         Did you see his picture on the cover 
                         of Time ?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yeah.
                                     
                         CHARLIE drops the magazine on the desk 
                         in front of her. ANN glances at it, 
                         unenthusiastically. CHARLIE goes to 
                         a table where there are several bottles 
                         of coca-cola and starts to pour himself 
                         a drink.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         I gotta give you credit, Annie-girl. 
                         I've handled a good many big promotions 
                         in my time . . . everything from the 
                         world's fair to a channel swimmer, but 
                         this one has certainly got me spinning. 
                         And now a John Doe Convention! Wow! 
                         Say! If you could only get him to jump 
                         off the City Hall roof on Christmas 
                         Eve, I'd guarantee you half a million 
                         people there.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Charlie!
                                     
                         ANN is lost in troubled thought.
                                     
                         CHARLIE'S VOICE
                                     
                         Huh?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (nods toward door)
                                     
                         What do you make of him?
                                     
                         ? 649 ?
                                     
                         Two shot: CHARLIE and ANN.
                                     
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Who, Johnny-boy?
                                     
                         ANN nods.
                                     
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Well, I don't know what angle you want, 
                         but I'll give it to you quick. Number 
                         one, he's got great yokel appeal; but 
                         he's a nice guy. Number two, he's beginning 
                         to believe he really wrote that original 
                         suicide letter that you made up. Number 
                         three, he thinks that you're Joan of 
                         Arc or something!
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. This is definitely 
                         troublesome to her.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (hoarsely)
                                     
                         Yeah, I know.
                                     
                         Wider shot: ANN walks away—pacing perturbedly.
 
                                                              
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Number four, well, you know what number 
                         four is. He's nuts about you. Yeah, 
                         it's running out of his ears.
                                      
                         ANN runs her hand through her hair. 
                         Suddenly she wheels around to CHARLIE.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         You left out number five. We're all 
                         heels, me especially.
                                      
                         She returns to her packing. CHARLIE 
                         watches her a second.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Holy smoke!
                                     
                         They are interrupted by a knock on the 
                         door.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (calling)
                                     
                         Come in.
                                     
                         JOHN enters, carrying a suitcase.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I'm all packed.
                                     
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         (starts out)
                                     
                         Good. I'll go and get Beany-boy.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (kidding him)
                                     
                         Okay, Charlie-boy!
                                     
                         ? 650 ?
                                     
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         Huh?
                                     
                         (laughing)[10]
                                     
                         CHARLIE winks good-naturedly and exits. 
                         JOHN turns to ANN, who concentrates 
                         on her packing.
                                      
                         Med. shot: He looks at ANN with great 
                         interest, and walks toward her, camera 
                         panning with him. ANN feels him coming, 
                         but does not turn.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         Can I help you pack?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         No, thank you.
                                     
                         JOHN wanders over to a chair and sits 
                         on the edge—watching her.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She is conscious of 
                         his eyes on her and fumbles with her 
                         packing. Finally she turns.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He stares at her, 
                         a warm smile on his face.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She becomes self-conscious 
                         and resumes her packing.
                                      
                         Med. shot: JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Do you care if I sit down out here?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         No.
                                     
                         A broad smile appears on JOHN'S face.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         You know, I had a crazy dream last night. 
                         It was about you.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         About me?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Sure was crazy. I dreamt I was your 
                         father.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. The fact that he has 
                         seen himself in the image of her father 
                         disturbs her. She turns slowly.
                                      
                         Two shot: JOHN clears his throat nervously.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         There was, there was something I was 
                         trying to stop you from doing. So, er, 
                         so I got up out of bed and I walked 
                         right through the wall here, right straight 
                         into your room.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         You know how dreams are.
                                     
                         ANN stares at him—fearful of the trend 
                         his dream is taking.
                                      
                         ? 651 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And there you were in bed.
                                     
                         (quickly apologizing)
                                     
                         But you—you were a little girl. You 
                         know—about ten.
                                      
                         He pauses and recalls the scene.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And very pretty, too. So, I shook you, 
                         and the moment you opened your eyes, 
                         you hopped out of bed and started running 
                         like the devil, in your nightgown.
 
                                                              
                         You ran right out the window there. 
                         And you ran out over the tops of buildings 
                         and roofs and everything for miles, 
                         and I was chasing you.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         And all the time you were running you 
                         kept growing bigger and bigger and bigger—and 
                         pretty soon you were as big as you are 
                         now. You know— grown up. And all the 
                         time I kept asking myself, "What am 
                         I chasing her for?" And I didn't know.
 
                                                              
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         Isn't that a hot one? Well, anyway, 
                         you ran into some place, and then Iran 
                         in after you and—and when I got there, 
                         there you were getting married.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He suddenly becomes 
                         aware he is treading on sensitive grounds.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (awkwardly)
                                     
                         And the nightgown had changed into a 
                         beautiful wedding gown. You sure looked 
                         pretty, too.
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         And then I knew what it was I was trying 
                         to stop you from doing.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She, too, begins to 
                         feel uncomfortable—not quite knowing 
                         how to handle it.
                                      
                         Two shot: JOHN glances at her.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Dreams are sure crazy, aren't they?
 
                                                              
                         ANN smiles, noncommittedly.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, would you like to know who it 
                         was you were marrying?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (forced lightness)
                                     
                         Well, a tall handsome Ubangi, I suppose.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No, not that bad. It was a fella that 
                         sends you flowers every day. Er, what's 
                         his name? Mr. Norton's nephew.
                                      
                         ? 652 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She recognizes the 
                         significance in this.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (quietly)
                                     
                         Ted Sheldon.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, that's the one.
                                     
                         ANN turns back to her packing.
                                     
                         Wider shot: JOHN starts to chuckle.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         But here's the funniest part of it all. 
                         I was the fella up there doing the marrying. 
                         You know, the Justice of the Peace or 
                         something . . .
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         You were? I thought you were chasing 
                         me?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, yes, I was. But I was your father 
                         then, see? But the real me, John Doe, 
                         er, that is, Long John Willoughby, I 
                         was the fellow up there with the book. 
                         You know what I mean?
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (amused)
                                     
                         I guess so. Then what happened?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, I took you across my knee and 
                         I started spanking you.
                                      
                         ANN turns and stares at him, eyes widening.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (quickly explaining)
                                     
                         That is, I didn't do it.
                                     
                         (correcting himself)
                                     
                         I mean, I did do it, but it wasn't me. 
                         You see, I was your father then. Well, 
                         I laid you across my knee and I said: 
                         "Annie, I won't allow you to marry a 
                         man that's, that's just rich, or that 
                         has his secretary send you flowers. 
                         The man you marry has got to swim rivers 
                         for you! He's got to climb high mountains 
                         for you! He's got to slay dragons for 
                         you! He's got to perform wonderful deeds 
                         for you! Yes, sir!"
                                      
                         BEANY enters and stands back of him, 
                         listening.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And all the time, er, the guy up there, 
                         you know, with the book, me, just stood 
                         there nodding his head and he said, 
                         "Go to it, Pop, whack her one for me, 
                         because that's just the way I feel about 
                         it, too."
                                      
                         So he says, "Come on down here and whack 
                         her yourself." So I came down and I 
                         whacked you a good one, see? And then 
                         he whacked one—and I whacked you another 
                         one, and we both started whacking you 
                         like . . .
                                      
                         ? 653 ?
                                     
                         He demonstrates by slapping his knees, 
                         first with one hand and then with the 
                         other. Suddenly he becomes aware of 
                         BEANY and stops, embarrassed.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (interrupting)
                                     
                         Well, if you're through whacking her, 
                         come on, let's get going.
                                      
                         (to bell boys)
                                     
                         Okay, fellows, right in here.
                                     
                         (to JOHN)
                                     
                         You go out the side entrance. There's 
                         a bunch of autograph seekers out front. 
                         We'll be down with the bags in a minute. 
                         Come on!
                                      
                         (speaking to boys)
                                     
                         Don't make a government project out 
                         of this!
                                      
                         The bell boys have lifted her luggage 
                         and all exit.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He has been left 
                         with his proposal unfinished.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. airport lunchroom—night. 
                         Med. shot: Scene opens with BEANY entering 
                         airport lunchroom to end of counter 
                         at which CHARLIE is seated.
                                      
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         How're you, Beany?
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         When does our plane take off again.
 
                                                              
                         CHARLIE
                                     
                         In a couple of minutes.
                                     
                         Camera moves down counter to pick up 
                         JOHN and ANN at table. They sit silently 
                         for a moment. We hear the strains of 
                         music from a "juke" box.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         How many people do you think we've talked 
                         to already, outside the radio, I mean?
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         I don't know. About three hundred thousand.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Three hundred thousand? What makes them 
                         do it, Ann? What makes them come and 
                         listen and, and get up their John Doe 
                         Clubs the way they do? I've been trying 
                         to figure it out.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (in an effort to disillusion him)
                                     
                         Look, John—what we're handing them are 
                         platitudes. Things they've heard a million 
                         times: "Love thy neighbor," "Clouds 
                         have silver linings," "Turn the other 
                         cheek." It's just a—
                                      
                         ? 654 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (sincerely)
                                     
                         Yeah, I've heard them a million times, 
                         too, but—there you are. Maybe they're 
                         like me. Just beginning to get an idea 
                         what those things mean.
                                      
                         ANN is deeply concerned. She watches 
                         him, helplessly.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (continuing)
                                     
                         You know, I never thought much about 
                         people before. They were always just 
                         somebody to fill up the bleachers. The 
                         only time I worried about them was if 
                         they—is when they didn't come in to 
                         see me pitch. You know, lately I've 
                         been watching them while I talked to 
                         them. I could see something in their 
                         faces. I could feel that they were hungry 
                         for something. Do you know what I mean?
 
                                                              
                         ANN nods.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Maybe that's why they came. Maybe they 
                         were just lonely and wanted somebody 
                         to say hello to. I know how they feel. 
                         I've been lonely and hungry for something 
                         practically all my life.
                                      
                         ANN forces a smile. The moment threatens 
                         to become awkward—until they are saved 
                         by the pilot's voice.
                                      
                         PILOT
                                     
                         All aboard, folks!
                                     
                         They suddenly snap out of their mood—and 
                         as they rise:
                                      
                         Fade out.
                                     
                         Fade in: Int. D. B.'s dining room. Full 
                         shot: As D. B., ANN and TED SHELDON 
                         enter and cross to table. ANN starts 
                         to sit and notices a fur coat flung 
                         over the back of the chair.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, somebody else sitting there?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         No, no, no—that's your seat.
                                     
                         TED
                                     
                         And this is your coat.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Mine?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         A little token of appreciation.
                                     
                         Ann pauses a moment, glances toward 
                         D. B.—while TED throws the coat over 
                         her shoulders.
                                      
                         ? 655 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (glances into a mirror)
                                     
                         Oh! Oh, it's beautiful, D. B. Well—I 
                         don't quite know what to say . . .
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Well, don't say anything at all. Just 
                         sit down.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She sits down, picks 
                         up her serviette—and something she sees 
                         suddenly makes her look with surprise 
                         at D. B.
                                      
                         Camera pans down to a jewel box which 
                         had been under the serviette.
                                      
                         Camera pans back to ANN. She glances 
                         up at D. B. somewhat bewildered.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Go ahead, open it, open it.
                                     
                         ANN opens the box and holds up a lovely 
                         diamond bracelet. Her eyes dance.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh! Oh, it's lovely!
                                     
                         TED
                                     
                         And a new contract goes with it.
                                     
                         Wider shot: D. B. and TED exchange satisfied 
                         glances. ANN admires the bracelet on 
                         her wrist—and then turns to D. B., looks 
                         directly at him.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (shrewdly)
                                     
                         Well, come on, spring it! You've got 
                         something on your mind.
                                      
                         D. B. laughs.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Must be stupendous.
                                     
                         Wider shot: As D. B. roars with laughter.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         You know, that's what I like about her. 
                         Right to the point, like that! All right, 
                         practical Annie, here it is.
                                      
                         He leans forward. ANN waits. TED watches 
                         her face.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and D. B.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Tomorrow night, before a crowd of fifteen 
                         thousand people, and talking over a 
                         nation-wide radio hook-up, John Doe 
                         will announce the formation of a third 
                         party.
                                      
                         ? 656 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (eyes widening)
                                     
                         A third party?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Yes. The John Doe Party.
                                     
                         Wider shot: TED watches ANN, expectantly.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Devoted entirely to the interests of 
                         all the John Does all over the country. 
                         Which practically means, ninety per 
                         cent of the voters. He will also announce 
                         the third party's candidate for the 
                         presidency. A man whom he, personally, 
                         recommends. A great humanitarian; the 
                         best friend the John Does have.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (in an awed whisper)
                                     
                         Mr. D. B. Norton!
                                     
                         D. B. verifies her guess by leaning 
                         back, a pleased grin on his face, his 
                         huge chest expanded.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Yes.
                                     
                         Ann looks from one to the other, a little 
                         awed by the size of the project.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (on her breath)
                                     
                         Wow!
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Int. broadcasting booth—ball 
                         park—night. Med. shot: The place is 
                         a bee-hive of activity. Announcers walk 
                         about with "mikes" in their hands—all 
                         speaking at once—as they describe the 
                         scene below.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of N.B.C. ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         N.B.C. ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         And although the opening of the convention 
                         is hours off, the delegates are already 
                         pouring into the ball park by the droves, 
                         with lunch baskets, banners and petitions, 
                         asking John Doe not to jump off any 
                         roof . . .
                                      
                         Camera pans over to KNOX MANNING.
                                     
                         KNOX MANNING
                                     
                         It is still a phenomenal movement. The 
                         John Does, or the hoi polloi as you've 
                         heard people call them, have been laughed 
                         at and ridiculed but here they are, 
                         gay and happy, having traveled thousands 
                         of miles, their expenses paid by their 
                         neighbors, to come here to pay homage 
                         to their hero, John Doe.
                                      
                         Camera pans over to JOHN B. HUGHES.
 
                                                              
                         ? 657 ?
                                     
                         JOHN B. HUGHES
                                     
                         And in these days of wars and bombings, 
                         it's a hopeful sign that a simple idea 
                         like this can sweep the country, an 
                         idea based on friendliness, on giving 
                         and not taking, on helping your neighbor 
                         and asking nothing in return. And if 
                         a thing like this can happen, don't 
                         let any of our grumbling friends tell 
                         you that humanity is falling apart. 
                         This is John B. Hughes, signing off 
                         now and returning you to our main studio 
                         until nine o'clock when the convention 
                         will officially open.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. ANN's living room. 
                         Med. shot: At Door. ANN's MOTHER opens 
                         it and JOHN stands on the threshold. 
                         He has a small box of flowers in his 
                         hand. Water drips from his hat.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Oh, John. Come in.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, I'm kinda—it's raining out a little—
 
                                                              
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         That's all right.
                                     
                         Wider shot: MRS. MITCHELL lays his hat 
                         down somewhere. John takes a few steps 
                         inside the room, not quite knowing what 
                         to do.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         (turning to him)
                                     
                         It's good to see you. Sit down.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (mumbles)
                                     
                         Thanks.
                                     
                         He sits on the edge of a sofa, still 
                         clinging to the little box. Then holds 
                         box out awkwardly.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (awkwardly)
                                     
                         It's for Ann . . .
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         (taking the box)
                                     
                         Oh, how nice! Thank you very much.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Flowers.
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         I'm terribly sorry she isn't here.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         She isn't?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         No, she just left. I'm surprised you 
                         didn't run into her. She went over to 
                         Mr. Norton's house.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         ? 658 ?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Did you want to see her about something 
                         important?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah. I, uh, well . . . No. It'll wait.
 
                                                              
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         Say, he's a nice man, isn't he? Mr. 
                         Norton, I mean. He's, er, he's done 
                         an awful lot for the—
                                      
                         Close-up: Of MRS. MITCHELL. She watches 
                         him, amused.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, my coat's pretty wet. I'm afraid 
                         I might have wet the couch a little.
 
                                                              
                         Wider shot: JOHN is still struggling 
                         to find conversation.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, I guess I'll see her at the convention 
                         later.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Yes, of course. I'll see that she gets 
                         the flowers.
                                      
                         He rises and looks around for hat on 
                         the floor and back of the chair.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Thanks. Good night, Mrs. Mitchell.
 
                                                              
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         (finds his hat and gives it to him)
 
                                                              
                         Good night, John.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He starts away and 
                         suddenly stops, speculatively. He glances 
                         out of the corner of his eye toward 
                         MRS. MITCHELL.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (going back to her)
                                     
                         Say, Mrs. Mitchell, I, er, I'm kinda 
                         glad Ann isn't here. You see, I was, 
                         I came over here hoping to see her alone 
                         and kinda hoping I wouldn't, too. You 
                         know what I mean? There was something 
                         I wanted to talk to her about. But, 
                         well, I—It'll wait, I guess. Good night.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of MRS. MITCHELL. She begins 
                         to sense what is on his mind, and her 
                         face becomes serious.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He smiles helplessly. 
                         Starts toward door.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Good night, John.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and MRS. MITCHELL. He 
                         stares at her a second.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         Say, look, Mrs. Mitchell, have you ever 
                         been married?
                                      
                         ? 659 ?
                                     
                         (catches himself)
                                     
                         Oh, sure you have.
                                     
                         (grins sheepishly)
                                     
                         Gosh! That's pretty silly! I guess you 
                         must think I'm kinda batty!
                                      
                         JOHN shakes his head at his own stupidity.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (can't get over it)
                                     
                         Well, I guess I'd better be going at 
                         that!
                                      
                         He bows again, and starts for the door. 
                         When he gets there, he is stopped by 
                         MRS. MITCHELL's voice.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         John. My husband said: "I love you. 
                         Will you marry me?"
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (whirls)
                                     
                         He did? What happened?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         I married him.
                                     
                         JOHN comes right back to her.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and MRS. MITCHELL.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (full of excitement)
                                     
                         Oh, yeah. That's what I mean. See? It 
                         was easy as all that, huh?
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Uh-huh.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah, yeah, but look, Mrs. Mitchell, 
                         you know I love Ann and it's gonna be 
                         awfully hard for me to say it because, 
                         well, you know, she's so wonderful, 
                         and, well, the best I ever was was a 
                         bush-league pitcher.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And you know, I think she's in love 
                         with another man, the one she made up. 
                         You know, the real John Doe. Well, that's 
                         pretty tough competition.
                                      
                         Two shot: JOHN and MRS. MITCHELL. She 
                         is terribly fond of JOHN and deeply 
                         sympathetic.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         I bet you he'd know how to say it all 
                         right. And me, I get up to it and around 
                         it and in back of it, but, but I never 
                         get right to it. Do you know what I 
                         mean? So the only chance I've got is, 
                         well, if somebody could kinda give her 
                         a warning sort of, sorta prepare her 
                         for the shock!
                                      
                         ? 660 ?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         You mean you'd like me to do it, huh?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, I was thinking that—Yeah, you 
                         know, sort of break the ice.
                                      
                         Close-up of MOTHER. She doesn't know 
                         how she can, with her present strained 
                         relationship with ANN, but JOHN's sincerity 
                         touches her.
                                      
                         MOTHER
                                     
                         Of course I will, John.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN's face lights up, gratefully.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Gee whiz! Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell.
 
                                                              
                         (grabs her hand)
                                     
                         Gee, you're—uh—you're okay!
                                     
                         He exits from scene—but almost immediately 
                         he is back. He plants a kiss on her 
                         cheek and goes.
                                      
                         Cut to: Ext. sidewalk. Front of ANN's 
                         apartment. Med. Shot: An automobile 
                         stands at the curb, in front of which 
                         is BEANY. Also waiting, are four motorcycle 
                         policeman.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (to the other men)
                                     
                         This John Doe meeting is gonna be one 
                         of the biggest things that ever happened.
 
                                                              
                         As JOHN appears in the doorway of the 
                         apartment house, he pretends to throw 
                         a baseball at them.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Why, they're coming from all over; trains, 
                         box cars, wagons—
                                      
                         (sees JOHN)
                                     
                         look out!
                                     
                         Med. Shot: Reverse angle. As BEANY holds 
                         the door open for JOHN.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hello, bodyguards! Hey, had your dinner 
                         yet?
                                      
                         BODYGUARD
                                     
                         Not yet.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Well, look. No. Go ahead and have your 
                         dinner. I'll—
                                      
                         He is about to enter the car when a 
                         voice from off-scene stops him.
                                      
                         CONNELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Wait a minute, John.
                                     
                         Camera pans over to a taxicab which 
                         has just driven in. CONNELL hands the 
                         driver a bill and walks, rather unsteadily 
                         toward JOHN.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Around BEANY's car. CONNELL 
                         ambles into the scene.
                                      
                         ? 661 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Hello, Mr. Connell.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Hiyah, John.
                                     
                         (broad wink)
                                     
                         John, I want to have a little talk with 
                         you.
                                      
                         (lurches—John holds him up)
                                     
                         What's the matter—are you falling? Come 
                         here.
                                      
                         Takes his arm to lead him off.
                                     
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (protesting)
                                     
                         Hey, Boss.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Oh, quiet, quiet, quiet.
                                     
                         (to John)
                                     
                         Say, tell me something did you read 
                         that speech you're gonna make tonight?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No, I never read the speeches before 
                         I make them. I get more of a kick out 
                         of it that way.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (wisely)
                                     
                         Uh-huh. That's exactly what I thought. 
                         Beany, go on down to the office, tell 
                         Pop to give you the speech. There's 
                         a copy on my desk.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (protesting)
                                     
                         Gee whiz, Boss, you know Mr. Norton 
                         told me not to leave him, not even for 
                         a minute.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (shooing him away)
                                     
                         Go on, go on, go on. And we'll be at 
                         Jim's Bar up the street.
                                      
                         He points in the general direction and 
                         again takes JOHN's arm. JOHN watches 
                         him, rather amused to see CONNELL off 
                         his milk diet, and allows himself to 
                         be led away.
                                      
                         Wipe to: Int. a barroom. Close shot: 
                         In a corner booth, JOHN and CONNELL 
                         sit, close together, drinks in front 
                         of them. JOHN's drink has remained untouched. 
                         CONNELL is just taking a long swig. 
                         From off-scene we hear the strains of 
                         an old-fashioned torch ballad, coming 
                         from an automatic piano.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         You're a nice guy, John. I like you. 
                         You're gentle. I like gentle people. 
                         Me? I'm hard—hard and tough.
                                      
                         (shakes his head—disparagingly)
                                     
                         I got no use for hard people. Gotta 
                         be gentle to suit me. Like you, for 
                         instance.
                                      
                         ? 662 ?
                                     
                         JOHN smiles, amused at him. CONNELL 
                         starts to light his cigarette, which 
                         is bent. He hold the match up, but it 
                         never reaches the tip of the bent cigarette. 
                         He puffs, satisfied.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Yep, I'm hard. But you want to know 
                         something? I've got a weakness. You'd 
                         never guess that, would you? Well, I 
                         have. Want to know what it is?
                                      
                         JOHN nods.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         The Star Spangled Banner.
                                     
                         (looks directly at John)
                                     
                         Screwy, huh?
                                     
                         (turns back to his glass)
                                     
                         Well, maybe it is. But play the "Star 
                         Spangled Banner"—and I'm a sucker for 
                         it. It always gets me right here—
 
                                                              
                         (thumps his diaphragm)
                                     
                         You know what I mean?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His face has become 
                         serious.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah.
                                     
                         (points to back of neck)
                                     
                         It gets me right back here.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and CONNELL. CONNELL 
                         speculates about this with his head 
                         cocked.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Oh, back there, huh?
                                     
                         (shrugs, dismissing it)
                                     
                         Well, every man to his own taste.
                                     
                         JOHN smiles at him. CONNELL tries lighting 
                         his bent cigarette again—with the same 
                         result—while JOHN watches, amused.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         You weren't old enough for the first 
                         world war, were you?
                                      
                         JOHN starts to answer, but CONNELL goes 
                         right on.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Course not. Must have been a kid.
                                     
                         He pours JOHN's drink into his own glass.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I was. I was just ripe. And rarin' to 
                         go.
                                      
                         (takes drink)
                                     
                         Know what my old man did when I joined 
                         up? He joined up too.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He finds himself 
                         intensely interested.
                                      
                         CONNELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Got to be a sergeant.
                                     
                         ? 663 ?
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and CONNELL.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (as he raises his glass)
                                     
                         That's a kick for you. We were in the 
                         same outfit. Funny, huh?
                                      
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. He lifts his glass 
                         to his lips, and without drinking, lowers 
                         it.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (voice lowers)
                                     
                         He was killed, John.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His face enveloped 
                         in an expression of sympathy.
                                      
                         Two shot: CONNELL stares down at the 
                         glass which he revolves between his 
                         palms.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I saw him get it. I was right there 
                         and saw it with my own eyes.
                                      
                         Without glancing at JOHN, he lifts the 
                         glass and drains it.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (turns to JOHN)
                                     
                         Me? I came out of it without a scratch. 
                         Except for my ulcers. Should be drinking 
                         milk.
                                      
                         (picks up his glass)
                                     
                         This stuff's poison.
                                     
                         As he holds up his glass, he realizes 
                         it is empty.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (yelling to bartender)
                                     
                         Hey, Tubby!
                                     
                         BARTENDER'S VOICE
                                     
                         Yes, Mr. Connell?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (indicates the empty glass)
                                     
                         Whadda you say?
                                     
                         TUBBY
                                     
                         All right.
                                     
                         Close shot: JOHN and CONNELL. CONNELL 
                         looks around guardedly, to make certain 
                         he is not overhead.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (confidentially)
                                     
                         Yessir. I'm a sucker for this country.
 
                                                              
                         (gets a little sore about it)
                                     
                         I'm a sucker for the Star Spangled Banner—and 
                         I'm a sucker for this country.
                                      
                         (taps table with his middle finger)
 
                                                              
                         I like what we got here! I like it!
 
                                                              
                         ? 664 ?
                                     
                         (emphasizes each point)
                                     
                         A guy can say what he wants—and do what 
                         he wants—without having a bayonet shoved 
                         through his belly.
                                      
                         Med. shot: As he leans back and nods 
                         his head, satisfied he made his point.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Now, that's all right, isn't it?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         You betcha.
                                     
                         The BARTENDER comes in with drink and 
                         departs.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         All right. And we don't want anybody 
                         coming around changing it, do we?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN shakes his head.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No, sir.
                                     
                         Two shot: JOHN and CONNELL.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         No, sir. And when they do I get mad! 
                         I get b-boiling mad. And right now, 
                         John, I'm sizzling!
                                      
                         JOHN looks at him, puzzled.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         I get mad for a lot of other guys besides 
                         myself—I get mad for a guy named Washington! 
                         And a guy named Jefferson—and Lincoln. 
                         Lighthouses, John! Lighthouses in a 
                         foggy world! You know what I mean?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (huskily)
                                     
                         Yeah, you bet!
                                     
                         CONNELL takes a drink and looks at JOHN 
                         a moment before he speaks.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (leans on the table)
                                     
                         Listen, pal—this fifth column stuff's 
                         pretty rotten, isn't it?[11]
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yeah. It certainly is.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         And you'd feel like an awful sucker 
                         if you found yourself marching right 
                         in the middle of it, wouldn't you?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN glances up sharply.
                                     
                         ? 665 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         And you, of course you wouldn't know 
                         it because you're gentle. But that's 
                         what you're doing. You're mixed up with 
                         a skunk, my boy, a no-good, dangerous 
                         skunk!
                                      
                         JOHN'S resentment vanishes—and is replaced 
                         by puzzlement.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, you're not talking about Mr. Norton, 
                         are you?
                                      
                         Two shot: JOHN and CONNELL.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (emphatically)
                                     
                         I'm not talking about his grandfather's 
                         pet poodle!
                                      
                         CONNELL again makes an effort to light 
                         his bent cigarette—and again is unsuccessful.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         You must be wrong, Mr. Connell, 'cause 
                         he's been marvelous about the John Doe 
                         Clubs.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (sarcastically)
                                     
                         Yeah?
                                     
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         Say, you're sold on the John Doe idea, 
                         aren't you?
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Sure.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Sure. I don't blame you. So am I.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL.
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (sincerely)
                                     
                         It's a beautiful miracle. A miracle 
                         that could only happen right here in 
                         the good old U.S.A. And I think it's 
                         terrific! What do you think of that! 
                         Me! Hard-boiled Connell! I think it's 
                         plenty terrific!
                                      
                         Two shot: John is rather pleased to 
                         hear him say this.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         All right! Now, supposing a certain 
                         unmentionable worm, whose initials are 
                         D. B., was trying to use that to shove 
                         his way into the White House. So he 
                         could put the screws on, so he could 
                         turn out the lights in those lighthouses. 
                         What would you say about that? Huh?
 
                                                              
                         ? 666 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Nobody's gonna do that, Mr. Connell. 
                         They can't use the John Doe Clubs for 
                         politics. That's the main idea.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Is that so? Then what's a big political 
                         boss like Hammett doing in town? And 
                         a labor leader like Bennett? And a lot 
                         of other big shots who are up at D. 
                         B.'s house right now? Wolves, John, 
                         wolves waiting to cut up the John Does!
 
                                                              
                         (snorting)
                                     
                         Wait till you get a gander at that speech 
                         you're gonna make tonight!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         You're all wet. Miss Mitchell writes 
                         those speeches and nobody can make her 
                         write that kind of stuff.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (cynically)
                                     
                         They can't, huh?
                                     
                         (then barking)
                                     
                         Who do you think writes 'em? My Aunt 
                         Emma? I know she writes them.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His jaw stiffens, 
                         angrily.
                                      
                         CONNELL'S VOICE
                                     
                         And get a big bonus for doing them, 
                         too. A mink coat and a diamond bracelet.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN glares at him, his rage mounting.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. Unaware of JOHN's 
                         wrath.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Don't write 'em? Why, that gold-grabbin' 
                         dame would double-cross her own mother 
                         for a handful of Chinese yen!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (in an outraged outcry)
                                     
                         Shut up! If you weren't drunk I'd—
 
                                                              
                         Simultaneously his hand comes in and 
                         grabs the startled CONNELL violently 
                         by his shirt front, lifting him out 
                         of his seat. Camera pulls back to include 
                         JOHN—who towers over CONNELL.
                                      
                         Wider shot: JOHN is still holding CONNELL, 
                         glaring down at him, enraged, when BEANY 
                         runs into the scene.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         (holding out the envelope)
                                     
                         Hey, Boss! Here's the speech, Boss.
 
                                                              
                         Suddenly he sees what's happening, and 
                         stares open-mouthed.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey!
                                     
                         ? 667 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: As JOHN pushes CONNELL back 
                         into the seat, snatches the envelope 
                         from BEANY, and exits.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Go on and read it, John, and then start 
                         socking!
                                      
                         Wider shot: As JOHN exits from place. 
                         BEANY suddenly realizes he has gone—and 
                         chases after him.
                                      
                         BEANY
                                     
                         Hey, wait a minute, Mr. Doe!
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                          . . . Tubby?
                                     
                         BEANY'S VOICE
                                     
                         Yes, sir?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Better bring me a glass of milk.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. He stares at his 
                         unlighted cigarette—grimaces unhappily.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (mumbling)
                                     
                         I'm smoking too much.
                                     
                         He grinds out the unlighted cigarette 
                         in the tray.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int. D. B.'s dining room. 
                         Close shot: Of D. B., who is at head 
                         of table, talking on phone.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (into telephone)
                                     
                          . . . Yes, Charlie? You've got everything 
                         all set? Fine! Has John Doe been taken 
                         care of? Good! How many people do you 
                         think will be there?
                                      
                         A pleased expression comes over his 
                         face.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Fifteen thousand? Oh my, that's fine. 
                         Now, listen, Charlie, as soon as John 
                         Doe stops talking about me, I want you 
                         to start that demonstration. And make 
                         it a big one, you understand?
                                      
                         As D. B. hangs up.
                                     
                         Wider shot: Including TED SHELDON.
 
                                                              
                         TED
                                     
                         Don't worry about that, D. B. My boys 
                         are there. They'll take care of it.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (into telephone)
                                     
                         What? yes, I'll be there fifteen minutes 
                         after I get your call.
                                      
                         Camera draws back as he speaks. We see 
                         that dinner has been concluded. His 
                         listeners, besides TED and ANN, are 
                         half a dozen distinguished looking men, 
                         some with cigars stuck in their mouths, 
                         others sip from champagne glasses. ANN 
                         sits to D. B.'s right.
                                      
                         Cut to: Int. foyer: Med. shot: At D. 
                         B.'s front door. A butler is opening 
                         the door for JOHN.
                                      
                         ? 668 ?
                                     
                         BUTLER
                                     
                         Why, Mr. Doe . . .
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Where are they?
                                     
                         BUTLER
                                     
                         In the dining room, sir.
                                     
                         JOHN strides toward the dining room. 
                         Camera pans with JOHN, who is dripping 
                         wet, as he crosses the foyer until he 
                         comes within sight of the open door 
                         of the dining room. JOHN stops.
                                      
                         Cut back to: Int. D. B.'s dining room. 
                         Wider shot: D. B. addressing the group 
                         at the table.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Well, gentlemen, I think we're about 
                         ready to throw that great big bombshell—
 
                                                              
                         SOMEONE'S VOICE
                                     
                         Yeah, well it's about time.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Even a conservative estimate shows that 
                         we can count on anywhere between ten 
                         and twenty million John Doe votes. Now, 
                         add to that the labor vote that Mr. 
                         Bennett will throw in . . .
                                      
                         He indicates BENNETT who nods, importantly.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                          . . . and the votes controlled by Mr. 
                         Hammett and the rest of you gentlemen 
                         in your territories—
                                      
                         (emphatically)
                                     
                         and nothing can stop us!
                                     
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She seems distressed. 
                         She apparently has been listening to 
                         things that have caused her considerable 
                         anxiety.
                                      
                         Wider shot: WESTON leans forward and 
                         speaks to D. B.
                                      
                         WESTON
                                     
                         As I said before, I'm with you—providing 
                         you can guarantee the John Doe vote.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Don't worry about that.
                                     
                         BENNETT
                                     
                         You can count on me under one condition. 
                         Little Bennett's gotta be taken care 
                         of!
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Didn't I tell you that everybody in 
                         this room would be taken care? My agreement 
                         with you gentlemen stands!
                                      
                         BARRINGTON
                                     
                         I'm with you, D. B., but I still think 
                         it's a very daring thing we're attempting!
 
                                                              
                         ? 669 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         These are daring times, Mr. Barrington. 
                         We're coming to a new order of things. 
                         There's been too much talk going on 
                         in this country.
                                      
                         SOMEONE'S VOICE
                                     
                         Exactly—
                                     
                         ANN glances up at D. B., a startled 
                         look in her eyes.
                                      
                         Close shot: D. B.'s audience beams with 
                         satisfaction as he continues.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Too many concessions have been made! 
                         What the American people need is an 
                         iron hand!
                                      
                         WESTON
                                     
                         You're right!
                                     
                         BENNETT
                                     
                         That's true. You're quite right, D. 
                         B.!
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Discipline!
                                     
                         GROUP
                                     
                         Quite right! Exactly!
                                     
                         There are cries of: "Hear, hear!" and 
                         applause.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. She is completely 
                         seized by panic—and although she attempts 
                         applauding, it is feeble.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Shooting through open door 
                         toward dining room. Prominently in view 
                         is ANN, still lost in troubled thought. 
                         D. B. is still on his feet.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         And now—
                                     
                         (lifting champagne glass)
                                     
                         may I offer a little toast to Miss Ann 
                         Mitchell—the brilliant and beautiful 
                         lady who is responsible for all this!
 
                                                              
                         The men rise.
                                     
                         GROUP
                                     
                         Miss Mitchell! Miss Mitchell!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Mr. Norton, I'd like to talk to you 
                         alone for a moment.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Oh, oh.
                                     
                         (chortling)
                                     
                         Miss Mitchell has something to say to 
                         us.
                                      
                         GROUP
                                     
                         Well, that's fine. Speech! Speech!
 
                                                              
                         Ann spots John.
                                     
                         ? 670 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (spotting John)
                                     
                         Hello?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John! I'm so glad to see you. I—I was 
                         terribly worried.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (showing her a copy of the speech)
 
                                                              
                         Did you write this?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Yes, I did, John. But I—I had no idea 
                         what was going on.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         You didn't?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His mouths screws 
                         up bitterly.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (quiet contempt)
                                     
                         That's a swell bracelet you're wearing.
 
                                                              
                         He leaves her, abruptly.
                                     
                         Int. dining room: Full shot: JOHN enters 
                         and looks the men over appraisingly 
                         as he goes toward D. B. They all stare 
                         at him.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         John—
                                     
                         (concerned)
                                     
                         Why aren't you at the convention?
                                     
                         JOHN doesn't answer.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Is there anything wrong?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. Everything's 
                         fine! So there's gonna be a new order 
                         of things, huh? Everybody's gonna cut 
                         himself a nice, fat slice of the John 
                         Does, eh?
                                      
                         (turns toward D. B.)
                                     
                         You forgot one detail, Mr. Big Shot—you 
                         forgot me, the prize stooge of the world. 
                         Why, if you or anybody else thinks he's 
                         gonna use the John Doe clubs for his 
                         own rotten purpose, he's gonna have 
                         to do it over my dead body!
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Now, hold on a minute, young man! Hold 
                         on! That's rather big talk! I started 
                         the John Doe clubs with my money and 
                         I'll decide whether or not they're being 
                         properly used!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No you won't! You're through deciding 
                         anything!
                                      
                         D. B. cannot believe his ears.
                                     
                         ? 671 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         And what's more, I'm going down to that 
                         convention and I'm gonna tell those 
                         people exactly what you and all your 
                         fine-feathered friends here are trying 
                         to cook up for them!
                                      
                         He looks up at ANN—and starts tearing 
                         the speech in his hand.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (strongly)
                                     
                         And I'll say it in my own words this 
                         time.
                                      
                         He flings the torn paper toward ANN—and 
                         starts out.
                                      
                         HAMMETT AND OTHERS
                                     
                         Stop him, somebody! He'll ruin us, D. 
                         B.!
                                      
                         Med. shot: At Door. As JOHN reaches 
                         it, TED steps up in front of him.
 
                                                              
                         TED
                                     
                         (menacingly)
                                     
                         Wait a minute, young feller—my uncle 
                         wants to talk to you.
                                      
                         D. B. walks up to JOHN.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Listen to me, my son! Before you lose 
                         your head completely, may I remind you 
                         that I picked you up out of the gutter 
                         and I can throw you right back there 
                         again! You've got a nerve accusing people 
                         of things! These gentlemen and I know 
                         what's the best for the John Does of 
                         America, regardless of what tramps like 
                         you think!
                                      
                         Get off that righteous horse of yours 
                         and come to your senses. You're the 
                         fake! We believe in what we're doing! 
                         You're the one that was paid the thirty 
                         pieces of silver! Have you forgotten 
                         that? Well, I haven't!
                                      
                         You're a fake, John Doe, and I can prove 
                         it! You're the big hero that's supposed 
                         to jump off tall buildings and things! 
                         Do you remember? What do you suppose 
                         your precious John Does will say when 
                         they find out that you never had any 
                         intention of doing it? That you were 
                         being paid to say so? You're lucky if 
                         they don't run you out of the country!
 
                                                              
                         Why, with the newspapers and the radio 
                         stations that these gentlemen control, 
                         we can kill the John Doe movement deader 
                         than a doornail, and we'll do it, too, 
                         the moment you step out of line! Now, 
                         if you still want to go to that convention 
                         and shoot your trap off, you go ahead 
                         and do it!
                                      
                         Full shot: D. B. leaves JOHN and returns 
                         to his chair. JOHN stares at him, unbelievingly.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: of JOHN.
                                     
                         ? 672 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (after a pause)
                                     
                         Do you mean to tell me you'd try to 
                         kill the John Doe movement if you can't 
                         use it to get what you want?
                                      
                         D. B.'S VOICE
                                     
                         You bet your bottom dollar we would!
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (cynically)
                                     
                         Well, that certainly is a new low. I 
                         guess I've seen everything now.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As JOHN's lips curl up contemptuously 
                         and he steps up to the table.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (throwing his hat on the table)
                                     
                         You sit there back of your big cigars 
                         and think of deliberately killing an 
                         idea that's made millions of people 
                         a little bit happier! An idea that's 
                         brought thousands of them here from 
                         all over the country, by bus and by 
                         freight, in jallopies and on foot—so 
                         they could pass on to each other their 
                         own simple little experiences.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Her eyes light up 
                         happily.
                                      
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Why, look, I'm just a mug and I know 
                         it. But I'm beginning to understand 
                         a lot of things. Why, your type's old 
                         as history. If you can't lay your dirty 
                         fingers on a decent idea and twist it 
                         and squeeze it and stuff it into your 
                         own pocket, you slap it down! Like dogs, 
                         if you can't eat something, you bury 
                         it!
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His voice is pleading.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Why, this is the one worthwhile thing 
                         that's come along. People are finally 
                         finding out that the guy next door isn't 
                         a bad egg. That's simple, isn't it? 
                         And yet a thing like that's got a chance 
                         of spreading till it touches every last 
                         doggone human being in the world—and 
                         you talk about killing it!
                                      
                         Full shot: They listen to him—unmoved.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Why, when this fire dies down, what's 
                         going to be left? More misery, more 
                         hunger and more hate. And what's to 
                         prevent that from starting all over 
                         again? Nobody knows the answer to that 
                         one, and certainly not you, with those 
                         slimy, bolloxed-up theories you've got! 
                         The John Doe idea may be the answer, 
                         though! It may be the one thing capable 
                         of saving this cockeyed world! Yet you 
                         sit back there on your fat hulks and 
                         tell me you'll kill it if you can't 
                         use it!
                                      
                         ? 673 ?
                                     
                         Well, you go ahead and try! You couldn't 
                         do it in a million years, with all your 
                         radio stations and all your power! Because 
                         it's bigger than whether I'm a fake! 
                         It's bigger than your ambitions! And 
                         it's bigger than all the bracelets and 
                         fur coats in the world!
                                      
                         Wider shot: ANN runs to JOHN.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (sincerely)
                                     
                         You bet it is, John!
                                     
                         JOHN starts to exit.
                                     
                         Med. shot: Shooting toward door.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (turning to them)
                                     
                         And that's exactly what I'm going down 
                         there to tell those people!
                                      
                         As JOHN reaches door, TED SHELDON jumps 
                         in front of him.
                                      
                         Close shot:
                                     
                         TED
                                     
                         Wait a minute, you ungrateful rat! My 
                         Uncle's been too good to—
                                      
                         While he speaks, JOHN looks down at 
                         the fist clutching his shirt, and then, 
                         with a suddenness that startles TED, 
                         he steps aside and clips TED on the 
                         jaw. TED's knees buckle and he goes 
                         down. JOHN exits.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As several men rush to TED's 
                         assistance. D. B. does not move.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         He's getting away!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         Ext. entrance to D. B.'s house: Med. 
                         shot: As JOHN hurries out. He goes by 
                         half a dozen members of TED SHELDON's 
                         motorcycle troops who wait around to 
                         escort D. B. to the convention.
                                      
                         Int. Dining room: Full shot: The room 
                         is full of commotion. ANN is running 
                         out of the room, going after JOHN. Several 
                         men bend over TED. D. B. glares toward 
                         door, his face hardening. HAMMETT is 
                         barking at him.
                                      
                         D. B. reaches under the table, lifts 
                         up two phones. Hands one to HAMMETT.
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Get the Bulletin !
                                     
                         He, himself, dials the other phone.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         ? 674 ?
                                     
                         BARRINGTON
                                     
                         I've always told you, D. B. you're playing 
                         with dynamite!
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (calling to men)
                                     
                         Don't let that girl get away!
                                     
                         The butler rushes out.
                                     
                         WESTON
                                     
                         Before he gets through tonight he'll 
                         ruin us all!
                                      
                         BENNETT
                                     
                         You've got to stop him, D. B.!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         I'll stop him! I'll stop him cold! Don't 
                         worry, I've been ready for this!
                                      
                         Cut to: Ext. D. B.'s entrance—at gate. 
                         Med. shot: As ANN runs alongside JOHN.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         John! Oh, John, please listen to me! 
                         Please—I can explain everything, John. 
                         I didn't know what they were going to 
                         do! Let me go with you, John! John, 
                         please!
                                      
                         JOHN gets into taxi—slams door—ANN runs 
                         beside cab as it starts off.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Go ahead, driver! Ball park!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         John, please let me go with you! Please, 
                         John!
                                      
                         Several troopers grab ANN.
                                     
                         TROOPER
                                     
                         Mr. Norton wants to see you.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh!
                                     
                         As the men get a firmer grip on her 
                         and ANN fights to get loose: Cut to: 
                         Int. D. B.'s study: Med. shot: D. B. 
                         is on the phone. The others pace around, 
                         perturbedly. HAMMETT has the second 
                         phone in his hand.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (into phone)
                                     
                         Listen to me, Mayor Lovett, you do as 
                         I say. I want them both arrested. You 
                         tell the police department to pick up 
                         Connell. I've got the girl here.
                                      
                         HAMMETT
                                     
                         (holds out phone)
                                     
                         I've got the Bulletin !
                                     
                         ? 675 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (hotly)
                                     
                         I don't care what you charge them with! 
                         If you're worried, let them go in the 
                         morning, but keep them in jail over 
                         night!
                                      
                         He bangs up the receiver. Grabs another 
                         phone from HAMMETT.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Hello, Bulletin ? Put Pop Dwyer on.
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to: Ext. entrance to ball park: 
                         Med. shot: Over the entrance gate a 
                         huge banner reads:
                                      
                         WELCOME TO
                                     
                         JOHN DOE CONVENTION
                                     
                         People come from all directions and 
                         pour through the gates. Some carry umbrellas 
                         over their heads, others have their 
                         coat collars turned up. Women hold newspapers 
                         over their heads to protect their hats. 
                         It is a misty, drizzling rain.
                                      
                         Ext. ball park: Long shot: Shooting 
                         from ANNOUNCER's view down at the Speaker's 
                         platform which has been erected on "Home 
                         Plate." On it, in the rear, is a brass 
                         band. In front of it is a speaker's 
                         table, over which dangles the microphone 
                         of a public address system. Attached 
                         to the table are several microphones 
                         with names of broadcasting stations 
                         on them.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Shooting toward audience. 
                         They sing: "Oh, Susanna."
                                      
                         Med. shot: Toward people seated in grandstand. 
                         They join in the singing.
                                      
                         Another angle: Toward a third section. 
                         They also pick up the song.
                                      
                         Long shot: Taking in as many as possible. 
                         Everyone sings, and the volume has risen 
                         considerably.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Shooting down an aisle. A 
                         stream of people take up the song, as 
                         they march to their seats.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At entrance to Park. Crowds 
                         are coming in—and they, too, begin singing. 
                         They are also joined by the policemen 
                         posted at the gates.
                                      
                         Med. shot: A second entrance to Park. 
                         Another crowd is entering, also singing.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Of BERT and SOURPUSS in the 
                         foreground of a group on platform, all 
                         of whom sing. BERT has a large rolled-up 
                         scroll in his hand.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL. Sitting in 
                         a corner somewhere, looking around speculatively, 
                         with a stubborn mental reservation that 
                         they are still all heelots.
                                      
                         Several close shots: Of small groups—with 
                         their wet faces held high, singing lustily, 
                         eyes sparkling.
                                      
                         Long shot: Shooting from the platform 
                         down toward the audience. The song finally 
                         comes to a climax—and immediately, lusty 
                         cheering starts, as they see JOHN coming 
                         on platform.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Toward platform. JOHN goes 
                         to the microphone of the public address 
                         system.
                                      
                         ? 676 ?
                                     
                         MAN
                                     
                         Three cheers for John Doe!
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Listen, ladies and gentlemen!
                                     
                         Before he can go any further, the band 
                         strikes up the strain of "AMERICA" and 
                         immediately the large assembly begins 
                         singing it.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. As his lips form 
                         the words. His expression is solemn.
 
                                                              
                         Various shots: Of groups, singing.
 
                                                              
                         Long shot: As people sing. Finally the 
                         song is ended, and an enthusiastic cheer 
                         is emitted by the crowd.
                                      
                         Med. shot: On platform. JOHN again steps 
                         toward the microphone and makes another 
                         effort to speak, but the CLERGYMAN places 
                         a detaining hand on his arm.
                                      
                         CLERGYMAN
                                     
                         Just a moment, John. We begin with a 
                         short prayer.
                                      
                         Longer shot: Shooting over the heads 
                         of the audience toward the platform 
                         in the background. Gradually the cheering 
                         subsides.
                                      
                         CLERGYMAN
                                     
                         (speaking into public address system)
 
                                                              
                         Quiet, please. Ladies and gentlemen—let 
                         us have a moment of silent prayer for 
                         the John Does all over the world . . 
                         . many of whom are homeless and hungry. 
                         Rise, please. Everybody rise.
                                      
                         The CLERGYMAN and JOHN, standing next 
                         to him, immediately bow their heads.
 
                                                              
                         Long shot: Shooting toward audience. 
                         As far as the Camera eye can see, heads 
                         are bowed in prayer. The reflection 
                         on the wet umbrellas creates a strange 
                         and mystic light.
                                      
                         Several close shots: Of small groups—in 
                         silent prayer.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of the COLONEL. Rather grudgingly, 
                         he has his head lowered.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His eyes are shut—his 
                         face wreathed in an expression of compassion.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At press section. They, too, 
                         bow respectfully. The reporters are 
                         quiet for the first time.
                                      
                         Ext. street: Long shot: Directly in 
                         front of entrance to ball park. A stream 
                         of news trucks pull up, filled with 
                         newsboys—they immediately alight.
 
                                                              
                         Ext. street: Med. shot: In front of 
                         another entrance. More trucks arrive—packed 
                         with newsboys.
                                      
                         Ext. street: Med. shot: Shooting toward 
                         entrance. As an army of newsboys, each 
                         carrying a stack of newspapers, run 
                         toward us yelling:
                                      
                         ? 677 ?
                                     
                         NEWSBOYS
                                     
                         Extry, extry! Read all about it!
                                     
                         Med. shot: Toward another entrance. 
                         Another swarm of newsboys dash in, also 
                         shouting.
                                      
                         NEWSBOYS
                                     
                         Extry! John Doe a fake!
                                     
                         Long shot: Of audience with their heads 
                         still bowed. Slowly, they begin turning 
                         around, puzzled, as from all directions 
                         and down every aisle, boys are running, 
                         waving papers in the air.
                                      
                         NEWSBOYS
                                     
                         (shouting)
                                     
                         Here you are! John Doe a fake! Read 
                         all about it! John Doe movement a racket!
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He looks up, terror-stricken.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At press section. Great excitement 
                         prevails here.
                                      
                         ANNOUNCER (JOHN B. HUGHES)
                                     
                         Newsboys! Hundreds of yelling newsboys 
                         are swarming into the park like locusts! 
                         They're yelling, "John Doe's a fake! 
                         Fake!"
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of audience. As newsboys 
                         are distributing papers to the baffled 
                         people.
                                      
                         NEWSBOYS
                                     
                         Here you are! No charge! John Doe a 
                         fake!
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of a second group. Some already 
                         have papers and peer, unbelievingly, 
                         at the headlines. Others grab papers 
                         from newsboys' hands.
                                      
                         MAN
                                     
                         (reading)
                                     
                         "Federal investigation urged by Chamber 
                         of Commerce."
                                      
                         Med. shot: Speaker's platform. SOURPUSS 
                         and BERT, reading paper.
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         How could he be a fake?
                                     
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         It must be some kind of a gag.
                                     
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         A what?
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         A gag. A gag!
                                     
                         Ext. : Somewhere inside ball park: Long 
                         shot: We hear the shrieking of sirens 
                         and almost immediately a limousine, 
                         escorted by Sheldon's motorcycle troops, 
                         pulls up. Directly behind it is a string 
                         of cars.
                                      
                         ? 678 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: The door of the limousine 
                         flies open and D. B. comes out. He immediately 
                         heads for the platform.
                                      
                         Camera pans over and we see troopers 
                         pouring out of the cars with TED SHELDON 
                         directing them.
                                      
                         TED
                                     
                         Come on, come on, step on it! Step on 
                         it! Step on it! You all know your places 
                         now, so let's get going! Wait for the 
                         signal!
                                      
                         Med. shot: DRUNK with a balloon. He 
                         holds balloon up to TED, getting in 
                         TED's way.
                                      
                         DRUNK
                                     
                         Hey, mister, will you autograph my balloon?
 
                                                              
                         TED
                                     
                         Sure!
                                     
                         (and breaks balloon)
                                     
                         TROOPER
                                     
                         (pushing drunk aside)
                                     
                         Gangway!
                                     
                         Ext.: Park. Med. shot: At Speaker's 
                         platform. JOHN is in front of the microphone 
                         trying to make himself heard over thousands 
                         of voices, all speaking at once.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Ladies and gentlemen! This is exactly 
                         what I came down here to tell you about 
                         tonight. Please, if you'll all just 
                         be quiet for a few minutes I can explain 
                         this whole thing to you. As you all 
                         know, this paper is published by a man 
                         by the name of D. B. Norton . . .
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Shooting towards audience. 
                         Down an aisle stalks D. B., his hand 
                         waving in the air.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (shouting)
                                     
                         Don't listen to that man! He's a fake!
 
                                                              
                         Camera pans with him as he hurries down 
                         the aisle to the platform—all eyes turned 
                         toward him.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. As he stares at D. 
                         B. approaching, too flustered to know 
                         what to do.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Toward platform. As D. B. 
                         runs up the few steps and proceeds to 
                         the microphone, troopers clearing the 
                         way for him.
                                      
                         TROOPER
                                     
                         (drags John from mike)
                                     
                         Stand back!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Wait a minute! Everybody wait a minute! 
                         Wait a minute, ladies and gentlemen! 
                         My name is D. B. Norton . . . you all 
                         know me! I accuse this man of being 
                         a faker! We've been taken for a lot 
                         of suckers! And I'm the biggest of the 
                         lot!
                                      
                         ? 679 ?
                                     
                         I spent a fortune backing this man in 
                         what I believed to be a sincere and 
                         worthy cause, just as you all did! And 
                         now I find out it's nothing but a cheap 
                         racket! Cooked up by him and two of 
                         my employees for the sole purpose of 
                         collecting dues from John Does all over 
                         the country!
                                      
                         JOHN breaks away from the troopers and 
                         gets to the mike.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         That's a lie!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         It's not a lie! Nickels and dimes! To 
                         stuff into their own pockets! You can 
                         read all about it in the newspapers 
                         there!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         That's a lie! Listen—don't believe what 
                         he says . . .
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (overlapping above speech)
                                     
                         Let go of me! This man had no intention 
                         of jumping off of the top of a building! 
                         He was paid to say so!
                                      
                         (turning to John)
                                     
                         Do you deny that?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         That's got nothing to do with it!
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Were you paid for it—or weren't you?
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Yes! I was paid! But the—
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (over-lapping above speech)
                                     
                         And what about the suicide note? You 
                         didn't write that, either!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         What difference does that make?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Did you write it—or didn't you?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No, I didn't write it, but—
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Ah, you bet your life you didn't! You 
                         look in your papers, ladies and gentlemen, 
                         and you'll find Miss Mitchell's signed 
                         confession that she was the one that 
                         wrote it!
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Listen, folks, it's a fact that I didn't 
                         write the letter, but this whole thing 
                         started—
                                      
                         ? 680 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         There! You see? He admits it! You're 
                         a fake, John Doe! And for what you've 
                         done to all these good people—they ought 
                         to run you out of the country—and I 
                         hope they do it!
                                      
                         He leaves the platform—followed by his 
                         troopers.
                                      
                         Several shots: Of groups as they stare 
                         at JOHN, silent and stunned, waiting 
                         for him to speak.
                                      
                         Full shot: The whole park full of people 
                         wait in breathless anticipation. From 
                         somewhere in the distance we hear a 
                         single voice of a man.
                                      
                         VOICE
                                     
                         Speak up, John! We believe you!
                                     
                         Med. shot: Under the platform. We see 
                         several of D. B.'s troopers pulling 
                         at the cables of the public address 
                         system.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He speaks into 
                         the microphone.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Please listen, folks! Now that he's 
                         through shooting off his face, I've 
                         got a couple of things to tell you about—
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Under the platform. One 
                         of the troopers disconnects the public 
                         address system by cutting the cable.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He realizes the loud 
                         speaker is dead, and looks around helplessly.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Somewhere in audience TED 
                         SHELDON directs troopers.
                                      
                         TED
                                     
                         Come on! The rest of you get in here 
                         and riot! Break this crowd up! Come 
                         on!
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of a group of John Does. 
                         They still stare uncertainly. Suddenly, 
                         the head of one of SHELDON's troopers 
                         appear—and cupping his hands over his 
                         mouth, he yells toward platform.
                                      
                         TROOPER
                                     
                         John Doe's a fake! Boo! Boooooo!
                                     
                         Long shot: From ANNOUNCER's view. Shooting 
                         toward audience. The crowd is all yelling 
                         at once now.
                                      
                         Med. shot:
                                     
                         ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         I'm sorry, folks, but we can't hear 
                         him any more. Something's gone wrong 
                         with the loudspeaker.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of JOHN. Trying to talk over 
                         microphone.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Say, they can't hear me! The thing's 
                         not working!
                                      
                         ? 681 ?
                                     
                         (shouts)
                                     
                         Ladies and gentlemen! Look—this thing's 
                         bigger than whether I'm a fake—
                                      
                         (turns to BERT)
                                     
                         Look, Bert, you believe me, don't you?
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         (cynically)
                                     
                         Sure, I believe you. Walking my legs 
                         off digging up five thousand signatures 
                         for a phoney!
                                      
                         Suddenly, nervously, he begins tearing 
                         up the petition in his hand.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Well, there you are, Mr. Doe!
                                     
                         (flinging crumpled petition at him)
 
                                                              
                         Five thousand names asking you not to 
                         jump off any roof!
                                      
                         He turns to leave.
                                     
                         Close shot: Of SOURPUSS, who, heartbroken, 
                         stops BERT.
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         It makes no difference, Bert—the ideas's 
                         still good. We don't have to give up 
                         our club.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         (harshly)
                                     
                         Yeah? Well, you can have it!
                                     
                         He exits.
                                     
                         Long shot: From ANNOUNCER's view. Crowd 
                         is yelling wildly.
                                      
                         ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         They're starting to throw things!
                                     
                         2ND ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         Somebody's going to get hurt!
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He looks helplessly 
                         down at the hostile crowd.
                                      
                         Int. police station: Full shot: ANN 
                         and CONNELL are surrounded by several 
                         policemen. A sergeant sits at his desk, 
                         on which is a radio. ANN's face is haggard 
                         and desperate as she listens to the 
                         radio announcer.
                                      
                         ANNOUNCER
                                     
                         I'm afraid it'll be John Doe. Listen 
                         to that mob!
                                      
                         Unable to stand it any longer, ANN suddenly 
                         jumps out of her seat.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         I've got to go to him!
                                     
                         OFFICER
                                     
                         Sorry, lady—I can't let you out.
                                     
                         ? 682 ?
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (sobbing)
                                     
                         Oh, let me go! Let me go to him! Oh, 
                         please, please let me go! They're crucifying 
                         him! I can help him!
                                      
                         OFFICER
                                     
                         Sorry, sister. We got orders to hold 
                         you.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Orders from who? Can't they see it's 
                         a frameup?
                                      
                         She is still desperately struggling 
                         to get free—when her mother comes hurrying 
                         in.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Ann, darling!
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, Mother! They won't let me go! They 
                         won't let me go!
                                      
                         The police release her and she throws 
                         herself into her mother's arms.
                                      
                         Ext.: Ball park. Close shot: Of JOHN. 
                         He still attempts to get himself heard.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         Listen, folks! You gotta listen to me, 
                         everybody!
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of a group of John Does.
 
                                                              
                         A MAN
                                     
                         (yelling toward JOHN)
                                     
                         Back to the jungle, you hobo!
                                     
                         2ND MAN
                                     
                         (disgustedly)
                                     
                         Just another racket!
                                     
                         JOHN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Stick to your clubs!
                                     
                         MAN
                                     
                         (shouting)
                                     
                         We've been fed baloney so long we're 
                         getting used to it!
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He disregards the 
                         missiles that fly around his head.
 
                                                              
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (supplicatingly)
                                     
                         The idea is still good! Believe me, 
                         folks! . . .
                                      
                         Ext.: Ball park. Med. long shot: Toward 
                         platform. The crowd pushes menacingly 
                         around the platform, with policemen 
                         struggling to control them. JOHN still 
                         stands there, pathetic and helpless. 
                         Missiles of all kinds fly into the scene. 
                         The members of the band are scrambling 
                         off the platform—as well as the others, 
                         until John is left alone.
                                      
                         ? 683 ?
                                     
                         Long shot: Shooting toward audience. 
                         They still boo and yell.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the COLONEL. Fearful for 
                         JOHN, he starts pushing his way through 
                         the crowd toward him.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of a group of people. Suddenly 
                         a woman reaches into a lunch basket 
                         she carries and takes out a tomato.
 
                                                              
                         WOMAN
                                     
                         (shouting)
                                     
                         You faker!
                                     
                         She reaches back to throw the tomato.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. His voice is gone. 
                         His eyes are glassy. He is making one 
                         last effort to speak.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (hoarsely)
                                     
                         Listen . . . John Does . . .
                                     
                         (weakly)
                                     
                         You're the hope of the world . . .
 
                                                              
                         As if in challenge to that statement, 
                         the tomato flies in and strikes him 
                         on the forehead. It seems to stun him. 
                         He remains motionless, staring before 
                         him with sightless eyes. The red smear 
                         of the tomato trickles down his face.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Of the COLONEL, amidst the 
                         crowd. He sees JOHN hit and winces. 
                         Then, setting his jaw, he pushes people 
                         violently aside, trying to reach JOHN.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: On platform, JOHN stares 
                         futilely before him. The COLONEL reaches 
                         his side and glancing sympathetically 
                         up at his face, starts to lead him off 
                         the platform. A squadron of policemen 
                         also rush to his rescue and precede 
                         JOHN and the COLONEL.
                                      
                         Trucking shot: Down the aisle—as police 
                         disperse the crowd who boo and threaten 
                         JOHN from the sidelines.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He is oblivious 
                         of the jeering, shouting mob—and of 
                         the wet newspapers flung in his direction.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At dug-out exit—as the police 
                         finally manage to get him safely out 
                         of the park.
                                      
                         Med. shot: ANNOUNCER's booth.
                                     
                         JOHN B. HUGHES
                                     
                         The police finally manage to get him 
                         out of the park! If that boy isn't hurt, 
                         it'll be a miracle!
                                      
                         Int.: Police station. Med. shot: ANN 
                         and her mother sit on a bench. A policeman 
                         is in the background. ANN stares into 
                         space. Her mother has an arm around 
                         her.
                                      
                         ANNOUNCER'S VOICE
                                     
                         Ladies and gentlemen, this certainly 
                         looks like the end of the John Doe movement.
 
                                                              
                         A policeman snaps the radio off.
                                     
                         ? 684 ?
                                     
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (lifts glass of milk)
                                     
                         Well, boys, you can chalk up another 
                         one to the Pontius Pilates.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and her mother.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         (sobbing)
                                     
                         I should have been there. I could have 
                         helped him.
                                      
                         (desolately)
                                     
                         He was so all alone!
                                     
                         Her MOTHER draws ANN consolingly to 
                         her, and lays her head on her breast.
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to:
                                     
                         Ext.: A highway. Med. shot: Of BERT's 
                         car on the way home.
                                      
                         Int.: Car. Close shot: BERT and SOURPUSS. 
                         They both look depressed. After a silence, 
                         SOURPUSS speaks.
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         (throatily)
                                     
                         A lot of us are going to be mighty ashamed 
                         of ourselves after tonight. We certainly 
                         didn't give that man much of a chance.
 
                                                              
                         They lapse again into silence. BERT 
                         stares grimly at the road.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Ext.: Clearing under the 
                         bridge. Close-up: Of JOHN. He sits on 
                         a rock, his head bent low, tears streaming 
                         shamelessly down his cheeks. Camera 
                         draws back and we find the COLONEL before 
                         the fire, boiling water in a small tin 
                         pan.
                                      
                         COLONEL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Have some more coffee, Long John?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         No, thanks, Colonel.
                                     
                         JOHN lifts his eyes skyward, stares 
                         profoundly, a curious expression over 
                         his face.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: A Montage. Long shot: Of 
                         JOHN, a lonely figure, walking dejectedly. 
                         As he walks, faces begin to appear one 
                         by one, to taunt him. Their accusing 
                         voices are heard.
                                      
                         WOMAN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Faker!
                                     
                         MAN'S VOICE
                                     
                         Racketeer!
                                     
                         2ND VOICE
                                     
                         Liar!
                                     
                         3RD VOICE
                                     
                         Cheat!
                                     
                         ? 685 ?
                                     
                         4TH VOICE
                                     
                         Imposter!
                                     
                         5TH VOICE
                                     
                         Why don't you jump!
                                     
                         GIRL'S VOICE
                                     
                         Christmas Eve at midnight!
                                     
                         (she laughs, sneeringly)
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Another shot: Of JOHN walking, 
                         his expression immobile. Over the shot 
                         appear several scenes through which 
                         JOHN has lived:
                                      
                         1. BERT shaking hands with him, saying:
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         You're a wonderful man, Mr. Doe.
                                     
                         2. MRS. DELANEY kissing his hand and 
                         saying:
                                      
                         MRS. DELANEY
                                     
                         May God bless you, my boy.
                                     
                         3. ANN in Broadcasting Station, kissing 
                         him:
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Now, get in there and pitch!
                                     
                         4. D. B. issuing his tirade at JOHN:
 
                                                              
                         D. B.
                                     
                         You're a fake, John Doe, and I can prove 
                         it! You're the big hero that's supposed 
                         to jump off tall buildings and things. 
                         You remember? What do you suppose your 
                         precious John Does will say when they 
                         find out that you never had any intention 
                         of doing it—that you were being paid 
                         to say so?
                                      
                         5. Again the girl who laughed appears:
 
                                                              
                         GIRL
                                     
                         Christmas Eve at midnight?
                                     
                         And again she laughs sneeringly.
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Ext.: City Hall tower—night. 
                         Long shot: It is a picturesque scene 
                         of the City Hall outlined in silhouette 
                         against the sky. A peaceful mantle of 
                         snow silently descends upon it. Over 
                         the shot we hear the plaintive voices 
                         of children singing "Holy Night."
 
                                                              
                         Dissolve to: Ext.: Outside of D. B.'s 
                         house: Med. shot: Outside D. B.'s Study—through 
                         window. A group of eight young carolers 
                         sing "Holy Night." It is a continuation 
                         of the music from previous scene.
 
                                                              
                         Cut to: Int. D. B.'s study. Med. shot: 
                         In the dimly lit room, we see the lonely 
                         figure of D. B., as he stands near a 
                         window staring out, meditatively. The 
                         voices of the children singing Christmas 
                         carols are faintly heard.
                                      
                         ? 686 ?
                                     
                         Close-up: Of D. B. He peers into the 
                         night, enveloped by disturbing thoughts. 
                         After a moment, he takes out his watch 
                         and glances at it. Then, as if annoyed 
                         by his own apprehension, he shoves it 
                         violently back into his pocket.
                                      
                         Camera retreats in front of him as he 
                         crosses, determinedly, to a humidor, 
                         takes a cigar and shoves it into his 
                         mouth. Just as he is about to light 
                         it, he becomes aware of the signing, 
                         and cocks his head, listening.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As he drops the match and 
                         the unlighted cigar—and starts toward 
                         door. Just then the BUTLER comes through.
 
                                                              
                         BUTLER
                                     
                         Merry Christmas, sir.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Oh. Merry Christmas.
                                     
                         D. B. hands him a bill and nods toward 
                         the children. The BUTLER exits.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. Staring out into 
                         space moodily. We hear the voices of 
                         the children saying, "Thank you, sir! 
                         Merry Christmas!" D. B.'s mouth screws 
                         up, unhappily. It is far from a "merry" 
                         Christmas. It is a very lonely, conscience-stricken 
                         one.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Int.: Police station. Med. 
                         shot: A SERGEANT sits in front of his 
                         desk. Opposite him is a POLICEMAN. Their 
                         rummy game has been interrupted by a 
                         phone call which the SERGEANT is now 
                         answering.
                                      
                         SERGEANT
                                     
                         Who? John Doe? Is that screwball still 
                         around?
                                      
                         (laughing)
                                     
                         POLICEMAN
                                     
                         (with disgust)
                                     
                         Aw, that dame's been callin' all day.
 
                                                              
                         DESK SERGEANT
                                     
                         Sure, sure, I know. Yeah. At midnight, 
                         huh? Okay, lady. We'll have the place 
                         surrounded with nets.
                                      
                         He hangs up the phone—twirls his finger 
                         at his temple, shrugs—and reaches for 
                         a card.
                                      
                         Cut to: Int.: ANN's bedroom. Close shot: 
                         ANN is in bed. She looks wan. Her hand 
                         still rests on the phone.
                                      
                         Camera pulls back to reveal a doctor 
                         by her side and her mother at the foot 
                         of the bed. They watch her—concerned.
 
                                                              
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh—they're laughing at me!
                                     
                         Impulsively, ANN picks up the receiver 
                         and starts dialing again.
                                      
                         DOCTOR'S VOICE
                                     
                         You're a sick girl, Ann. You'd better 
                         take it easy.
                                      
                         ? 687 ?
                                     
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Whom are you calling now? You called 
                         that number not ten minutes ago!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (into phone)
                                     
                         Hello. Mr. Connell? Have you seen him 
                         yet? Have you—
                                      
                         Cut to: Int: Corridor of City Hall. 
                         Med. shot: Toward a telephone booth. 
                         CONNELL speaks into the phone.
                                      
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         Now listen, Ann—he can't possibly get 
                         in without our seeing him. I'm watching 
                         the side door and the Colonel's out 
                         front, so stop worrying.
                                      
                         Int.: ANN's bedroom. Close shot:
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Thank you.
                                     
                         She hangs up the receiver, despairingly. 
                         Then, suddenly, she jumps out of bed 
                         and runs to a clothes closet—grabbing 
                         a coat and scarf.
                                      
                         MRS. MITCHELL
                                     
                         Why, Ann! . . .
                                     
                         DOCTOR
                                     
                         Ann, don't be foolish!
                                     
                         Dissolve to: Insert: The City Hall tower 
                         clock registers 11:45.
                                      
                         Cut to: Ext.: Highway. Med. shot: BERT's 
                         car driving in the snow.
                                      
                         Int.: Car. Full shot: BERT HANSEN drives. 
                         In the car with him are his wife, SOURPUSS 
                         and several others.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         (complainingly)
                                     
                         If this isn't the craziest, the battiest, 
                         the looniest wild goose chase I ever 
                         heard of?
                                      
                         MRS. HANSEN
                                     
                         Oh, shut up. Bert. Sourpuss is right.
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         Yeah? Well, if he is, I'm a banana split!
 
                                                              
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         That man is gonna be on that roof. Don't 
                         ask me how I know. I just know. And 
                         you know it as well as I do.
                                      
                         BERT
                                     
                         Sure, sure. I'd like to believe in fairy 
                         tales, but a guy that's fake isn't gonna 
                         jump off any roof.
                                      
                         MRS. HANSEN
                                     
                         I don't think he was any fake—not with 
                         that face. And, anyway, what he stood 
                         for wasn't a fake.
                                      
                         ? 688 ?
                                     
                         BERT
                                     
                         Okay, honey, okay.
                                     
                         Cut to: Int: Main floor corridor, City 
                         Hall. Full shot: It is vast and empty, 
                         except for a colored porter, scrubbing.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: At entrance. As ANN enters 
                         from outside. Determinedly, she starts 
                         toward elevators.
                                      
                         Close shot: At elevator. ANN pushes 
                         button impatiently. She feels weak, 
                         and has to brace herself to stay on 
                         her feet. Suddenly, she is startled 
                         by the COLONEL'S voice.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Elevators ain't running.
                                     
                         Camera pans over to the COLONEL, who 
                         sits on the stairs, next to the elevator.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: ANN walks over to him, her 
                         face lighting up hopefully.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Colonel!
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         You shouldn't have gotten out of bed, 
                         Miss.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Has he been here?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         No.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Have you seen him?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (sadly)
                                     
                         I ain't seen him for a week.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Where's Connell?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         He's watching the other door.
                                     
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh. Gee, you're swell! Oh.
                                     
                         ANN stares at him a moment, then, impulsively, 
                         she starts to pass him to go up the 
                         stairs.
                                      
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (grabs her)
                                     
                         No sense in going up there! I been here 
                         for hours. He ain't here!
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (pulls away from him)
                                     
                         Oh, let me go, will you!
                                     
                         ? 689 ?
                                     
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         (calling after her)
                                     
                         Now, that's crazy. It's fourteen floors!
 
                                                              
                         But ANN vanishes. The COLONEL shakes 
                         his head and resumes his post.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At entrance. As the MAYOR, 
                         followed by D. B., HAMMETT, and the 
                         others, enters. Camera pans with them 
                         as they go toward the elevator.
                                      
                         Med. shot: They arrive at the elevator. 
                         The MAYOR takes out his keys and unlocks 
                         the elevator door.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of the COLONEL. He watches 
                         them, puzzled. Can't figure out what 
                         they are doing here.
                                      
                         Cut to: Insert: Of elevator dial—as 
                         the light flicks on to number 14, indicating 
                         14th floor. Camera pans down to elevator 
                         door, which opens and the men come out.
 
                                                              
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         This is as far as the elevator goes. 
                         We've got to walk up to the tower.
 
                                                              
                         He indicates the stairway.
                                     
                         Cut to: Wider shot: As they cross to 
                         stairway, silently.
                                      
                         Dissolve to: Ext.: City Hall roof. Full 
                         shot: The men enter. They glance around 
                         searchingly—and then slowly move toward 
                         the edge of the parapet.
                                      
                         Closer shot: The men look obviously 
                         self-conscious. No one speaks for a 
                         while.
                                      
                         BENNETT
                                     
                         (breaking the silence)
                                     
                         That tramp is probably full of Christmas 
                         cheer and asleep in some flop house.
 
                                                              
                         There is again silence. After a few 
                         minutes, the MAYOR speaks.
                                      
                         MAYOR
                                     
                         Let's go. I've got to decorate my tree.
 
                                                              
                         Cut to: Int.: Corridor—14th floor. Med. 
                         shot: Outside Men's Washroom. JOHN comes 
                         out, and as camera pans with him he 
                         proceeds to letter chute next to elevator. 
                         We see that it is the top of the chute, 
                         and from the elevator being there, we 
                         know it is the 14th floor. JOHN drops 
                         the letter into the chute.
                                      
                         Ext.: City Hall roof. Full shot: The 
                         place is silent except for occasional 
                         scraping of feet as several of the men 
                         move around. They continually refer 
                         to their watches. Finally, D. B. gives 
                         up impatiently.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         Well, I give up. I don't know what gave 
                         us the idea that he—he'd attempt anything 
                         like this.
                                      
                         WESTON
                                     
                         I guess you're right. I'm afraid the 
                         joke's on us. Let's go.
                                      
                         ? 690 ?
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         I hope nobody finds out we've been here.
 
                                                              
                         They all start to exit, when suddenly 
                         D. B. stops. He puts his hand out, and 
                         they all stop to listen. They hear footsteps, 
                         and back into the shadows.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Shooting toward stairs. JOHN 
                         appears around the bend and mounts the 
                         last few steps.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the huddled group. They 
                         watch breathlessly. In the darkness, 
                         their eyes dominate the scene.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Over their shoulders. As 
                         JOHN, expressionless, his cigarette 
                         in his hand, crosses to the parapet, 
                         and looks out. He takes a puff of his 
                         cigarette and exhales the smoke.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the huddled group. The 
                         MAYOR is for stepping forward, but D. 
                         B. with an extended hand stops him, 
                         indicating for them to wait and see 
                         what happens.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He takes the envelope 
                         out of his pocket and examines it.
 
                                                              
                         Close shot: Of the group. Their eyes 
                         glued on him tensely.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. He stares at the 
                         envelope.
                                      
                         Insert: Of envelope. On it is written: 
                         "TO JOHN DOES EVERYWHERE".
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He replaces the envelope 
                         in his pocket.
                                      
                         Int.: Tower. Close shot: The group. 
                         Their eyes riveted on JOHN. They feel 
                         the moment has come. Several of them 
                         glance toward D. B.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include them all, and 
                         JOHN. He drops his cigarette on the 
                         ground, and bending over, crushes it 
                         with his foot. Just as he straightens 
                         out again, D. B. speaks.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (restrained voice)
                                     
                         I wouldn't do that if I were you, John.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. As he turns sharply, 
                         startled. He stares blankly at the five 
                         people.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the group. They move slightly 
                         forward and stop.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         It'll do you no good.
                                     
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He continues to stare 
                         at them, strangely.
                                      
                         Wider shot: To include them all.
                                     
                         D. B.
                                     
                         The Mayor has policemen downstairs with 
                         instructions to remove all marks of 
                         identification you may have on your 
                         person. You'll be buried in Potter's 
                         Field[12] and you will have accomplished 
                         nothing.
                                      
                         Close shot: Of JOHN. After a moment, 
                         he speaks.
                                      
                         ? 691 ?
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (in a sepulchral voice)
                                     
                         I've taken care of that. I've already 
                         mailed a copy of this letter to Mr. 
                         Connell.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of the group. Amazed that 
                         he thought of this. They feel themselves 
                         helpless. D. B. tries taking an authoritative 
                         tone.
                                      
                         D. B.
                                     
                         (his throat is dry)
                                     
                         John, why don't you forget this foolishness?
 
                                                              
                         He steps forward as he speaks.
                                     
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (quickly—threateningly)
                                     
                         Stop right where you are, Mr. Norton, 
                         if you don't want to go overboard with 
                         me.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN's face. His eyes have 
                         a wild, maniacal look in them.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. He stares into JOHN's 
                         eyes and a terrified expression covers 
                         his face.
                                      
                         Wider shot: As D. B. instinctively backs 
                         up.
                                      
                         JOHN
                                     
                         (throatily)
                                     
                         I'm glad you gentlemen are here. You've 
                         killed the John Doe movement, all right, 
                         but you're going to see it born all 
                         over again. Now, take a good look, Mr. 
                         Norton.
                                      
                         Int.: Landing to tower. Med. shot: As 
                         ANN practically has to pull herself 
                         up to the last step. Her face is wet 
                         from fever and exhaustion.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (an outcry)
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         Int.: Tower. Full shot: As everyone, 
                         startled by the outcry, turns. ANN staggers 
                         into scene.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (crying)
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         She rushes and throws her arms around 
                         him.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (muffled sobs)
                                     
                         Oh, John, darling. No! No!
                                     
                         Close shot: JOHN and ANN. He stares 
                         down at her, blankly. ANN clutches him, 
                         her head buried in his shoulder.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (muffled sobs)
                                     
                         I won't let you. I love you, darling.
 
                                                              
                         ? 692 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: Of the group. They remain 
                         motionless, watching.
                                      
                         Close shot: JOHN and ANN. She emits 
                         wracking sobs, then lifts her eyes up 
                         to him.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (in a desperate plea)
                                     
                         John. Please, John, listen to me. We'll 
                         start all over again, just you and I. 
                         It isn't too late. The John Doe movement 
                         isn't dead yet.
                                      
                         Suddenly she becomes conscious of the 
                         others present, and she turns her head.
 
                                                              
                         Camera pans over to what she sees. The 
                         group of men watching, silently.
                                      
                         Camera pans back to ANN. Her eyes widen 
                         slowly. She looks from them to JOHN 
                         and back again, and her face takes on 
                         an excited, breathless look, as the 
                         reason for their being there becomes 
                         comprehensible to her.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (excitedly)
                                     
                         See, John! It isn't dead, or they wouldn't 
                         be here! It's alive in them . They kept 
                         it alive. By being afraid of it. That's 
                         why they came up here.
                                      
                         Close shot: ANN and JOHN. He continues 
                         to stand with his hands at his sides, 
                         looking at her, while she clings to 
                         him desperately. While she speaks, he 
                         turns his face from her and stares at 
                         the men.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         Oh, darling. Sure, it should have been 
                         killed before. It was dishonest.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He is staring strangely 
                         at the group of men—as slowly, gradually, 
                         the curtain is being lifted from his 
                         clouded brain.
                                      
                         ANN'S VOICE
                                     
                         But we can start clean now. Just you 
                         and I. It'll grow again, John. It'll 
                         grow big. And it'll be strong, because 
                         it'll be honest!
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Her strength is fast 
                         ebbing away. She clings to JOHN more 
                         tenaciously.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (last bit of effort)
                                     
                         Oh, darling, if it's worth dying for, 
                         it's worth living for. Oh, please, John 
                         . . .
                                      
                         She looks up at his face, seeking some 
                         sign of his relenting-but she finds 
                         none.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN, who still clinging 
                         to him, lays her cheek on his chest—and 
                         lifts her eyes heavenward.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (a murmured prayer)
                                     
                         Oh, please, God—help me!
                                     
                         ? 693 ?
                                     
                         Flash: Of the men—as they stare transfixed, 
                         waiting breathlessly.
                                      
                         Med. shot: At entrance. BERT, SOURPUSS 
                         and others appear—having run up the 
                         stairs breathlessly. Their eyes are 
                         filled with apprehension. CONNELL and 
                         the COLONEL are with them. When they 
                         see the scene before them, they stop, 
                         awed.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of ANN. Suddenly she stares 
                         before her—as a divine inspiration comes 
                         to her. Her eyes light up with a wide, 
                         ecstatic fire.
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and JOHN. ANN turns and 
                         glances up at JOHN's face.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (tensely)
                                     
                         John!
                                     
                         She takes his face in her two hands 
                         and turns it to her.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         John, look at me. You want to be honest, 
                         don't you? Well, you don't have to die 
                         to keep the John Doe idea alive! Someone 
                         already died for that once! The first 
                         John Doe. And He's kept that idea alive 
                         for nearly two thousand years.
                                      
                         Close shot: BERT, his WIFE and SOURPUSS. 
                         The cynical expression on BERT's face 
                         begins to soften.
                                      
                         ANN'S VOICE
                                     
                         (with sincere conviction)
                                     
                         It was He who kept it alive in them 
                         —and He'll go on keeping it alive for 
                         ever and always! For every John Doe 
                         movement these men kill, a new one will 
                         be born!
                                      
                         Two shot: ANN and JOHN. JOHN remains 
                         grimly unmoved. ANN continues.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         (ecstatically)
                                     
                         That's why those bells are ringing, 
                         John! They're calling to us—not to give 
                         up—but to keep on fighting! To keep 
                         on pitching! Oh, don't you see, darling? 
                         This is no time to give up!
                                      
                         Several flashes: To intercut with ANN's 
                         speech—one of BERT; his WIFE; CONNELL; 
                         D. B.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Toward ANN and JOHN. ANN's 
                         strength is slowly waning.
                                      
                         ANN
                                     
                         You and I, John, we can—
                                     
                         (suddenly)
                                     
                         No, John, if you die, I want to die, 
                         too!
                                      
                         (weakly)
                                     
                         Oh, I love you so—
                                     
                         Her strength leaves her—and as her eyelids 
                         slowly shut, she collapses limply in 
                         his arms.
                                      
                         Med. shot: Of BERT's group, as they 
                         react to this. BERT stares, profoundly 
                         moved.
                                      
                         ? 694 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: JOHN and ANN—as he stares 
                         bewildered, at ANN at his feet. Mechanically, 
                         he reaches down and lifts her in his 
                         arms.
                                      
                         BERT'S VOICE
                                     
                         Mr. Doe . . .
                                     
                         JOHN vaguely becomes aware of BERT's 
                         presence and glances toward him.
                                      
                         Med. shot: BERT, his WIFE and SOURPUSS.
 
                                                              
                         BERT
                                     
                         (his voice choked—haltingly)
                                     
                         You don't have to—Why, we're with you, 
                         Mr. Doe. We just lost our heads and 
                         acted like a mob. Why, we . . .
                                      
                         BERT'S WIFE
                                     
                         (jumping in)
                                     
                         What Bert's trying to say is—well—we 
                         need you, Mr. Doe. There were a lot 
                         of us didn't believe what that man said.
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN—as he listens to her, 
                         expressionless.
                                      
                         WIFE'S VOICE
                                     
                         We were going to start up our John Doe 
                         Club again whether we saw you or not.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: BERT, his WIFE and SOURPUSS.
 
                                                              
                         WIFE
                                     
                         Weren't we, Bert?
                                     
                         BERT nods.
                                     
                         WIFE
                                     
                         And there were a lot of others that 
                         were going to do the same thing. Why, 
                         Mr. Sourpuss even got a letter from 
                         his cousin in Toledo, and . . .
                                      
                         SOURPUSS
                                     
                         (joining—eagerly)
                                     
                         Yeah, I got it right here, Mr. Doe!
 
                                                              
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. The bewildered look 
                         in his eyes has vanished. It is now 
                         replaced by an expression of softness 
                         and understanding.
                                      
                         WIFE'S VOICE
                                     
                         (choked)
                                     
                         Only—only it'll be a lot easier with 
                         you. Please—please come with us, Mr. 
                         Doe!
                                      
                         JOHN remains standing, thoughtful.
 
                                                              
                         Med. shot: Of BERT's group. They all 
                         look supplicatingly at him.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of JOHN. He stares at BERT's 
                         group and, shifting his gaze, looks 
                         at D. B. and his crowd. Then, turning 
                         back to BERT, his eyes light up and 
                         something of a warm smile appears on 
                         his face.
                                      
                         Full shot: As JOHN, having decided on 
                         his course, starts forward with ANN 
                         in his arms. The church bells chime 
                         loud and victoriously.
                                      
                         ? 695 ?
                                     
                         Med. shot: Around BERT. Their eyes brighten 
                         ecstatically as JOHN walks toward them. 
                         They all speak at once.
                                      
                         BERT'S GROUP
                                     
                         (ad-lib)
                                     
                         Mr. Doe!
                                     
                         She'll be all right!
                                     
                         We've got a car downstairs . . .
                                     
                         They follow JOHN out, chattering excitedly. 
                         Only CONNELL and the COLONEL remain.
 
                                                              
                         COLONEL
                                     
                         Long John!
                                     
                         Close-up: Of CONNELL. He glares at D. 
                         B. defiantly.
                                      
                         Close-up: Of D. B. awe-stricken by the 
                         scene he has witnessed.
                                      
                         Med. shot: CONNELL and the COLONEL.
 
                                                              
                         CONNELL
                                     
                         (to D. B.—defiantly)
                                     
                         There you are, Norton! The people! Try 
                         and lick that! Come on, Colonel.
                                      
                         They exit, arm in arm, as the music 
                         swells—suggesting emergence from darkness 
                         and confusion to light and understanding.
 
                                                              
                         Fade out.


                                          THE END



Meet John Doe



Writers :   Richard Connell  Robert Presnell Sr.
Genres :   Comedy  Drama


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