Original subtitles

*

*

Good evening, fellow members of the beat generation.

Thank you for allowing me in your pad.

Some of you cats are, no doubt, wondering how I got with it.

Well, man, getting in this generation isn't hard.

No, daddy-o,

you just lie about your age.

But I didn't join just for kicks,

or just to dig the crazy types.

No, man.

I joined because I wanted to be as avant as I could get.

And this is it.

I'm a jump man, and I love to ball along with a wheel

in the hand and a four on the road.

I love to dig the cool notes of a tenor, man,

blowing his top in a wild dive in San Fran.

For it's then that I know the essence of life.

But you must think me the talkinest cat

that ever flipped.

It's time to cut out.

Disassociate me from the bourgeois trivia which follows.

I'll dig you later.

*

All right, Manny, hit me one.

Pick the right one.

This certainly is your night.

Yeah, I've got me a signed contract with Lady Luck.

How does it feel having a night out with the boys, Irv?

Swell, Smalley, swell.

I'll pass.

Little tough getting the little bride

to cut the apron strings, Mr. Newlywed?

Stop ragging the kid, will you?

If you're gonna play cards, play cards.

So, I made my play.

I just wanna know if Mr. Newlywed's still in the game.

Gee, Smalley, don't keep calling me that, please.

Is the bridegroom still in the game?

No, I guess I'll pass.

Pass?

When you're so far behind?

No, this isn't the time to pass, Irv.

Come on in.

You've got a chance to win all that money back.

All right, Manny, give me two cards.

Look, Irv doesn't make your kind of salary.

He's in over his head now.

Now, why don't you lay off?

Look, Manny, he works for me in my department.

Don't I look out for his welfare?

Didn't I sign that last request for a raise?

Now, would I take advantage

of one of the boys in my own department?

You bet your sweet life, you would.

Nobody asked you, kibitzer.

I pass.

Oh.

So, it's a showdown between me and little old Irv, huh?

Well, I bet a ten spot.

Come on, raise me, Irv.

No, I'll...

I'll just see you.

Well, read them and weep.

Four little beauties, left to right.

Me, I've got three kings.

Tough luck.

Who wants a beer?

It's getting late, Smalley.

I don't want any more.

Look, what's eating you guys, anyway?

So I'm a big, bad man?

So, Irv gets the nerve to take a night out once.

What am I supposed to do?

Give him his dough back, and a note to his wife

explaining why I kept him out late?

Stop it, you guys.

There's always another payday.

As long as you won't fire me from the stock room, Smalley.

Not until he wins a few more weeks' salary from you.

Then he'll lower the boom.

Listen, you keep out of this.

I'm not scared of you, Smalley,

because, you see, I don't work in your department.

Yeah, let's call it a night.

Yeah.

The water's getting too deep and dirty.

You mean, you're all chicken?

Oh, I have to quit.

Besides, Frances is all alone.

Well, good night, fellows.

I'll see you in the morning.

Irv, I'm gonna stay home in the morning.

Those vouchers on the New Orleans shipment

have to be sent out.

I'll take care of it.

They're at my place.

You pick them up on your way to work.

Yeah.

Good night.

*

*

*

*

You live around here, Mister?

Yeah, a few blocks.

Five or six, maybe.

Where exactly?

110 Pitkin, Apartment 2.

My name is Randall, Irving Randall.

What's this all about?

I haven't done anything wrong.

It's about you walking so easy and alone on this street,

like it was Main at high noon.

Don't you know any better?

I don't know what you mean.

How long have you lived in this neighborhood?

Oh, a few weeks.

And nobody's warned you?

Warned me?

In this neighborhood, hoodlums grow like flies.

Kids still learning how to read and write,

but they know how to cut up a man like you,

so you won't look pretty for a long while.

Yeah, I've read about that.

Last week, just a block from here,

a woman was beaten up something awful by a 16-year-old.

Just for a couple of bucks.

So, be careful about strolling around the streets

so late at night, Mister.

Thank you, Officer.

Good night.

*

*

*

*

(footsteps)

*

*

*

*

*

*

(door opening)

*

Irv!

Irv, what happened?

Walking home from Manny's tonight,

this big kid, maybe 16 or 17,

he sneaked up behind me.

I didn't have a chance, hon.

Your cheek, it's hurt.

No, no, no, I'm just messed up a little.

Now, hon, it's just a scratch.

He took my wallet, Francie.

My whole week's salary.

You could have been killed.

I've been reading about people being held up.

Oh, I'm so glad it wasn't worse.

Francie, Francie, didn't you hear what I said?

It's the money, my whole week's salary.

Oh, I don't care about the money.

Honest?

Of course.

So long as you're all right.

Didn't you yell for help?

Why didn't the police come?

Why didn't they help you?

There just wasn't anybody around.

I'll fix you some nice, hot milk, and you go right to bed.

And rest all of tomorrow, don't go to work.

Listen, I don't need any hot milk.

-Yes, you do. -No, I don't.

I'll just get these clothes off and take a bath.

Oh, before you do anything else,

hadn't you better call the police?

The police?

Of course.

Why, of course?

Well, you've got to report it.

What for?

To catch the boy.

I couldn't identify him, hon.

Why not?

Well, it was dark.

I couldn't describe him.

Just the same, you ought to report it.

Well, you just can't say, "Here, take my week's salary.

Thanks very much."

Oh, but listen to me.

You're tired and upset.

I'll call the police.

No!

I don't want you to do it, or me, either.

Now, the whole thing's done with.

They won't catch the boy.

You're upset.

I'll just explain...

And fussing over me won't help!

I'm sorry, Irv.

I didn't mean to yell.

Don't you see?

It's just that we do need that money.

Every last cent of it.

For hospital expenses...

Oh, I know, I know!

Stop reminding me!

It's all I've thought of

ever since you told me about the baby.

I know about the hospital.

Don't keep telling me!

Oh, I'm sorry, hon.

You know how I feel about the baby.

I'm almost nutty, not having enough money.

Then this had to happen.

It wasn't your fault, darling.

Irv, call the police, now.

*

Operator...

get me the police.

*

There.

Feel better, honey?

Mmm-hmm.

Every time I think of that boy jumping you...

You could have been killed!

Well, the cops won't find him.

That week's salary is gone right down the drain.

You'll get a break somehow.

Maybe a raise.

You deserve one.

There's a fat chance with that Smalley.

You know, it's funny.

I hated him tonight.

I always thought that's how I'd like to get along in life,

like he does.

I always wanted to impress people,

or give them the impression of self-confidence.

I guess I'm not like him.

I guess I'm not too sure of myself, Francie.

I suppose you know that.

Oh...

I don't think much of myself,

except being lucky enough to have married you.

Oh, Francie.

Without you, I don't know where I'd get any confidence.

Any at all.

Irv.

(phone ringing)

I'll get it.

Hello?

Yeah, this is Randall.

Oh, yes, Lieutenant.

What?

Well, it's pretty late and I'm still in shock, I guess.

Well, I have to go to work tomorrow.

What?

I suppose so.

All right, Lieutenant.

Yes, sure.

What is it?

I've got to get dressed and go down to the police station.

They're sending a car for me.

Why?

Oh, they think they've got the kid that robbed me.

*

In here, Mr. Randall.

We picked him up right about the time you got mugged.

No question it's him.

Hey, Whitey, turn around.

Ditch that cigarette.

Stand up straight.

Come on down here.

Here's a friend of yours.

I never saw this guy before.

Does he look familiar, Mr. Randall?

It was dark.

I told you that over the phone.

It was too dark to see anything clear.

Don't worry about that.

We have other evidence.

Real evidence.

Right, kid?

How much money did you have on you, Mr. Randall?

How much, Mr. Randall?

Oh, about $96.

The kid must have unloaded or lost a couple of bucks,

but you can count it for yourself--92 bucks.

I tell you, I won that dough in a crap game!

I never mugged nobody.

How can I be sure this is really mine?

Because he was caught exactly three blocks

from where you were mugged,

running like the devil was chasing him.

That's what I meant by real evidence.

The denominations could clinch it.

Did you have mostly 10s and 20s like that?

Yeah...

10s and 20s mostly.

Okay, tough guy.

Have him wait outside.

Now, about pressing charges against the kid.

Do I--

I mean...I mean, do I have to?

After all, I do have the money back,

and, well, he's just a kid.

I'm glad you look at it that way, Mr. Randall.

Whitey isn't as tough as he seems.

He is not like a lot of other kids, a real bad character.

How old is he, 17?

Less than that, 16.

I guess it's kind of tough

growing up in a neighborhood like this.

That's for sure.

I couldn't press charges against a kid, Lieutenant.

You know, it's funny,

my wife's going to have a baby.

Oh?

And in 16 years, he'll be Whitey's age.

The years go fast, you know.

I bet getting this money back helps a lot, huh?

I've got two of my own, I know.

Can we forget about the boy?

He could get a long stretch in Juvenile Hall,

if you wanted it.

Oh, no, no.

Jail wouldn't help him.

Well, that's swell of you, Mr. Randall.

Get Whitey back in here.

Do I have to see him again?

I want him to realize that not everybody is against him.

Whitey, Mr. Randall is not going to press charges against you.

I don't have to tell you what a break you're getting.

Thanks.

Thanks for the break.

Oh, that's all right.

I know it's the first time you've ever been in a jam.

I guess it's the first time for both of us, huh?

Can I go now, Lieutenant?

My wife's worried.

As soon as you sign for the money.

Yeah, sure.

So long, Mister.

*

Lots of luck, kid.

*

*

I'm sorry, hon, I didn't mean to wake you.

Oh, what happened?

Oh, you got it back.

See, didn't I tell you?

Don't look so glum.

I didn't recognize him.

Who?

Oh.

Well, the cops knew he did it.

Francie, what would you say if I told you that...

maybe this isn't my money?

Maybe he wasn't the kid that mugged me.

Maybe it was his money, winnings at a crap game like he said.

Really, Irv, the police know their business.

A juvenile delinquent.

He was only a kid, 16.

He stole your money.

But suppose it isn't my money.

Well, it's the right amount.

Doesn't that prove it?

It's not the right amount.

It's a few dollars short.

Darling, you're tired, and you're not making any sense.

Go to bed, huh?

Come on.

I don't feel good about it, Francie.

Really, Irv, you'd think it was you who stole the money.

Maybe that's how I do feel.

Why, why?

Suppose the kid was telling the truth,

and he didn't mug me.

Maybe it was his money, and,

well, his family needs it for rent,

or for the doctor, like you and me.

Really, Irv, you're not making any sense.

Honey, turn out the light and come to bed.

*

*

Good morning.

Good morning.

Did you sleep all right?

Oh, enough.

Still worried about that kid?

No.

You still are.

I can see it in your face.

Well, I better get going.

Call me from the office.

I will.

Oh, and don't forget to deposit that money.

Yeah, I'll do it on my lunch hour.

*

Hey, Smalley.

It's me, Irv.

*

Smalley, you up yet?

Came by to pick up the vouchers.

*

Smalley?

*

What happened to you?

Last night, after I left Manny's place,

about a block away, some kid jumped me,

a blond kid, took all my dough.

Lousy little crook!

That's too bad, Smalley.

Oh, I sure took a beating.

You say he was just a kid?

Yeah.

Couldn't you take care of yourself?

Well, he jumped me.

I didn't have a chance.

How much did he get?

Ninety-two bucks.

Say, where are those vouchers?

Over there.

I hope you get better soon.

Irv.

I, uh...

I know I took all your dough last night, but...

Well, I was wondering...

Could you let me have a couple of bucks till payday?

Gee, I would like to help you out, pal,

but you know how it is.

I'm a married man.

*

What can I say, man?

A typical tale of middle class types

caught in the rat race of modern society.

And a happy ending is a final sell-out to commercialism.

But that reminds me.

You wanted to know why I'm hung up.

I shall now show you what bugged me.

I'll dig you at its conclusion.

Please reciprocate.

Man, I've changed my mind.

That was the greatest.

The story may be unhip,

but those crazy commercials are pure poetry.

They deserve better treatment.

Next time, I shall read them to a jazz accompaniment.

Man, this could be a new art form.

Pure, but frantic.

And now, it's time for me to split the joint.

I'll dig you in one week.

I hope you can make the scene.