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The Grapes of Wrath (1940) script

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

		WAITRESS
	When you be back?

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

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

		TOM
	How about a lift, mister?

		DRIVER
	Can't you see that sticker?

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

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

After a moment of hesitation the driver releases the brake.

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

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

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

		DRIVER
	Goin' far?

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

		DRIVER
	Lookin' for a job?

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

		DRIVER
		(after a curious glance)
	Oh!

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

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

		DRIVER
	Been doin' a job?

		TOM
	Yeah.

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

		TOM
		(evenly)
	Why don't you get to it, buddy?

		DRIVER
		(uneasily)
	Get to what?

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

		DRIVER
	I don't stick my nose in nobody's 
	business.

		TOM
	Naw--not much!

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

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

		DRIVER
	You ain't got to get sore.

		TOM
		(coldly)
	Go ahead. Ask me anything you want.

		DRIVER
	I didn't mean nothing.

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

		DRIVER
	Yeah.

		TOM
	That's where I get off.

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

		TOM
	You're about to bust to know what I 
	done, ain't you?  Well, I ain't a 
	guy to let you down.
		(Confidentially)
	Homicide!

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

		DRIVER
	I never asked you!

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	Howdy.

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

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

		TOM
		(surprised)
	Yeah. On my way home now.

		CASY
	Well, I do declare!
		(Grinning)
	I baptized you, son.

		TOM
		(staring)
	Why, you're the preacher!

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

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

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

		TOM
	Maybe you should a got yourself a 
	wife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

		CASY
		(handing back the 
		flask)
	Been out travelin' around?

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

		CASY
	No, I never. What?

		TOM
	I been in the penitentiary for four 
	years.
		(He drinks)

		CASY
	Excuse me for asking.

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

		CASY
	And you ain't ashamed?

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

		CASY
	Ain't you seen your folks since then?

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(worriedly)
	Lissen. This wind's fixin't to *do* 
	somepin'!

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

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

		CASY
	Is it fur?

		TOM
		(still looking back)
	Just around that next bend.

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

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

		TOM
		(pointing ahead)
	That's our place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

		CASY'S VOICE
	You got a match?

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

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

		TOM
	They're all gone--or dead.

		CASY
	They never wrote you nothing?

		TOM
	No. They wasn't people to write.

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

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

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

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

		CASY
	I never heard nothin' about it.

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

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

		MULEY
	Tommy?

		TOM
		(entering)
	Muley! Where's my folks, Muley?

		MULEY
		(dully)
	They gone.

		TOM
		(irritated)
	I know that! But *where* they gone?

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

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

		CASY
	I ain't no preacher anymore.

		TOM
		(impatiently)
	All right, you remember the *man* 
	then.

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

		TOM
		(angrily)
	Now where is my folks?

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

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

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

		TOM
	But who done it?

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

		TOM
		(angrily)
	Are you crazy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muley stands in anger. The two younger men pattern after 
him.

		MULEY
	You mean get off my own land?

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

		SON
	Whose fault is it?

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

		MULEY
	Who's the Shawnee Land and Cattle 
	Comp'ny?

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

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

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

		SON
		(angrily)
	All right. Where's the bank?

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

		MULEY
		(bewildered)
	Then who *do* we shoot?

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

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

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

		TOM
		(angrily)
	Well?

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

We see MULEY at close range.

		MULEY
	They come with the cats.

		TOM'S VOICE
	The what?

		MULEY
	The cats--the caterpillar tractors.

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

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

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

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

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

		MULEY
	I *tol'* you!

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

		MULEY
	Why, you're Joe Davis's boy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		GIRL
	What's he fixin' to do, ma?

		MA
	Hush!

Back to the TRACTOR AND THE MEN:

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

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

And the tractor roars into slow motion again...

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

		WIFE
	Don't! Please don't!

The little girl begins to whimper.

		MULEY
	I'm tellin' you!

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

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

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

		TOM
		(bewildered)
	But it don't seem possible--kicked 
	off like that!

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

Tom rises in his agitation and bewilderment.

		MULEY
	You think I'm touched.

		CASY
		(sympathetically)
	No. You're lonely--but you ain't 
	touched.

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

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

He looks down at Muley.

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

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

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

		TOM
	She's settlin'.

		CASY
	What you figger to do?

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

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

		TOM
		(angrily)
	Hide out for what? We ain't doin' 
	nothin'.

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

		CASY
	Come on, Tom. You're on parole.

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

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

		MULEY
	All you got to do is lay down an' 
	watch.

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

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

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

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

The car moves on.

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

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

He whistles, as the scene fades out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

		GRAMPA
		(indignantly)
	One little ole dab!--one teeny little 
	ole dab!

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

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

		GRANMA
		(viciously)
	I seen him!--gobblin' away like an 
	ole pig!

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

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

We see NOAH AND UNCLE JOHN.

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

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

Noah frowns at the print.

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

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

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

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

		RUTHIE
		(whispering)
	Look. I'm Grampa!

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	I'd a found you, Ma.

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

TOM now looks around at the dusty furniture piled around the 
yard.

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

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

		TOM
		(puzzled)
	Mad, Ma?

		MA
	Sometimes they do.

		TOM
		(gently)
	No, Ma I was at first--but not no 
	more.

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

		TOM
		(grinning)
	No, Ma. You don't have to worry about 
	that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(grinning)
	I didn't bust out. They lemme out. 
	Howya, Noah. Howya, Uncle John.

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

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

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

		NOAH
		(confidentially)
	Bust out?

		TOM
		(shaking his head)
	Parole.

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

		AL AND ROSASHARN
	Hi, Tom! Howya doin'?

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

		GRAMPA
		(wildly)
	The jailbird's back! The jailbird's 
	back!

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(patiently)
	Naw. They paroled me.

		AL
		(let down)
	Oh.

		ROSASHARN
	Heh'o Tom.
		(Proudly)
	This is Connie, my husband.

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

		ROSASHARN
		(gasping)
	You do not see either!--not yet!

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

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

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

		MAN
	Hey, Joad! John Joad!

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

		MAN
	Ain't forgot, have you?

		JOHN
	We ain't forgot.

		MAN
	Comin' through here tomorrow, you 
	know.

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(to Pa)
	How you get all this money?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(from the door)
	How about it, Ma?

		MA
	I'm ready.

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

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

The flame dies down.

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

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

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

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

		RUTHIE AND WINFIELD
	Goin' to California! Goin' to 
	California!

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

		GRANMA
	I ain't gonna sit with Grampa!

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	Think she'll hold?

		CASY
	If she does it'll be a miracle outa 
	Scripture.

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

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

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

		GRAMPA
	Ef you don't let me go--

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

		TOM
	What's the matter, Grampa?

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	How 'bout Granma?

		GRAMPA
		(fiercely)
	Take her with you!

		MA
		(getting out of the 
		truck)
	But who'd cook for you? How'd you 
	live?

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

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

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

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

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

All watch him worriedly.

INSIDE THE CABIN:

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

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

		TOM
	Ain't no whisky, is they?

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

		TOM
		(tasting it)
	Don't taste bad.

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

		TOM
	That's right. And douse some in it.

		PA
		(watching)
	Better give him a good 'un. He's 
	awful bull-headed.

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

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

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

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

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

		GRAMPA
		(amiably)
	I shore do like spareribs.

He drinks again.

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

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

		GRAMPA
		(mumbling)
	Ain't a-goin', thas all...

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

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

		PA
	You be awright, Grampa.

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

		CASY
	Good-by, an' good luck.

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

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

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

		PA
		(heartily)
	Come on, get on, plenty room!

		OMNES
	Sure, come on, Casy, plenty room!

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

		PA
		(excitedly)
	Here we go!

		TOM
		(grinning)
	California, here we come!

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

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

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

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

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

		AL
		(sobering)
	That don't sound like you, Ma. You 
	never was like that before.

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

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

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

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

In TOM'S arms Grampa is whimpering feebly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		OMNES
	Amen.

The scene fades out.

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

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

		MA
	Tommy.

		TOMMY
	What is it, Ma?

		MA
	Wasn't that the state line we just 
	passed?

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

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

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

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

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

		GRANMA
		(waking suddenly)
	I gotta git out!

		TOM
	First gas station, Granma--

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

		TOM
		(foot on brakes)
	Awright! Awright!

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

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

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

		TOM
		(relieved)
	We ain't campin'. We jus' stoppin' a 
	minute--

		COP
	Lissen, I heard that before--

		GRANMA
	I tell ya I gotta git out!

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

		TOM
		(mildly)
	She's kinda ol'--

		GRANMA
		(whimpering)
	I tell ya--

		COP
	Okay, okay!

		GRANMA
		(triumphantly)
	Puh-raise the Lawd for vittory!

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

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

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

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

		ROSASHARN
	Ma... all this, will it hurt the 
	baby?

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

		ROSASHARN
	Sometimes I'm all jumpy inside.

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

		ROSASHARN
	But will it--hurt the baby?

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

		ROSASHARN
	You don't ever get scairt, do you, 
	Ma?

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

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

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

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

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

		FIRST MAN
	Sings real nice. What state y'all 
	from?

		PA
	Oklahoma. Had us a farm there, share-
	croppin'.

		TOM
	Till the tractors druv us out.

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

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

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

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

		SECOND MAN
	You folks must have a pot a money.

The GROUP turns to look at the Man.

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

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

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

		PA
		(quietly)
	We gonna take whatever they got.

		TOM
	What's so funny about it?

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

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

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

		PA
		(pulling out handbill)
	But what about this?

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

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

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

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

		PA
	But what does *that* prove?

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

There is a long worried silence. The proprietor leans forward 
angrily.

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

		SECOND MAN
	I swear I ain't, mister!

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

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

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

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

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

		PA
	S'pose he's tellin' the truth--that 
	fella?

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

		TOM
	How about us? Is that the truth for 
	us?

		CASY
	I don't know.

		PA
		(worriedly)
	How can you tell?

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

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

		FAT MAN
		(truculently)
	You folks aim to buy anything?

		AL
	Need some gas, mister.

		FAT MAN
	Got any money?

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

		FAT MAN
	I just ast, that's all.

		TOM
		(evenly)
	Well, ask right. You ain't talkin' 
	to bums, you know.

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

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

		BILL
	Kinda pie y'got?

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

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

		FRED
	Make it two.

		MAE
	Two it is.
		(Smirking)
	Seen any new etchin's lately, Bill?

		BILL
		(grinning)
	Well, here's one ain't bad. Little 
	kid comes in late to school. Teacher 
	says--

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

		MAE
	Yeah?

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

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

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

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

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

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

		BERT
		(an angry whisper)
	Give 'em the bread.

		MAE
	We'll run out 'fore the bread truck 
	comes.

		BERT
	Awright then, run out!

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

		MAE
	Come in.

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

		MAE
	This here's a fifteen-cent loaf.

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

		BERT
		(a clinched teeth 
		order)
	Give 'im the loaf!

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

		MAE
		(sighing)
	You can have this for ten cents.

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

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

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

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

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

		PA
	Is them penny candy, ma'am?

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

		MAE
	Which ones?

		PA
	There, them stripy ones.

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

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

		PA
	Well, give me two then, ma'am.

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

		PA
		(beaming)
	Sure, take 'em, take 'em!

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

		PA
	Thank you, ma'am.

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

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

		MAE
		(belligerently)
	What's it to you?

		BILL
	Them was nickel apiece candy.

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

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

		BILL
	So long.

		MAE
	Hey, wait a minute. You got change 
	comin'.

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

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

		MAE
		(softly)
	Bert.

		BERT
		(playing a machine)
	What ya want?

		MAE
	Look here.

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

		MAE
		(reverently)
	Truck drivers.

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

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

The scene fades out.

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

		GUARD
	Where you going?

		TOM
		(who is driving)
	California.

		GUARD
	How long you plan to be in Arizona?

		TOM
	No longer'n we can get acrost her.

		GUARD
	Got any plants?

		TOM
	No plants.

		GUARD
		(putting sticker on 
		windshield)
	Okay. Go ahead, but you better keep 
	movin'.

		TOM
	Sure. We aim to.

The truck rattles into movement.

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

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

		PA
		(finally)
	There she is, folks--the land a milk 
	an' honey--California!

		CONNIE
		(sullenly)
	Well, if *that's* what we come out 
	here for...

They look at each other in disappointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

		AL
	She's off her chump, seems to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

		MAN
	How's the swimmin'?

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

		MAN
	Mind if we come in an' set?

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

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

		PA
	Goin' west?

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

		TOM
	Where's home?

		MAN'S VOICE
	Panhandle, come from near Pampa.

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

		MAN'S VOICE
	Nope.

The man and his son sit down in the water.

		MAN
		(continuing)
	But at leas' we can starve to death 
	with folks we know.

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

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

		TOM
	Me an' you both.

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

		SON
		(finally)
	He ain't gonna tell you nothin' about 
	it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		FIRST BOY
	You people got a lotta nerve.

		TOM
	What you mean?

		FIRST BOY
	Crossin' the desert in a jalopy like 
	this.

		TOM
	You been acrost?

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

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

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

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

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

		MA
		(softly)
	Don't you worry, Granma. It's gonna 
	be awright.

		GRANMA
		(mumbling)
	Grampa... Grampa... I want Grampa...

		MA
	Don't you fret now.

The truck moves off.

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

		FIRST BOY
	Holy Moses, what a hard-lookin' 
	outfit!

		SECOND BOY
	All them Okies is hard-lookin'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	People done it. If they could, we 
	could.

		AL
	Lots must a died, too.

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

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

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

		WINFIELD
		(trying to see)
	I wisht it was day.

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

		WINFIELD
	Man bones?

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

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

		MA
		(whispering)
	'S awright, honey. Everything's gonna 
	be awright.

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

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

		CONNIE
		(sullenly)
	Women is always tar'd.

		ROSASHARN
		(fearfully)
	You ain't--you ain't sorry, are you, 
	honey?

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

		ROSASHARN
		(pleadingly)
	But we can still do it, honey.

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

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

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

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

		JOHN'S VOICE
	Ever'thing all right?

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	What's this here?

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

		TOM
	No.

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

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

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

		OFFICER
	Yeah? Well, we got to look you over.

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

The officer lights his flashlight on Granma's face.

		OFFICER
		(shocked)
	You wasn't foolin'! You swear you 
	got no fruit or vegetables?

		MA
	No, I swear it.

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

Ma climbs back up beside Granma.

		TOM
	Okay, cap. Much oblige.

The truck starts.

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

The TRUCK moves away on Highway 66.

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

		AL
	Will ya look at her!

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

One by one, they climb down.

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

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

		TOM
		(shocked)
	Ma, you sick?

		MA
		(hoarsely)
	Ya say we're acrost?

		TOM
		(eagerly)
	Look, Ma!

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

		TOM
	Didn' you get no sleep?

		MA
	No.

		TOM
	Was Granma bad?

		MA
		(after a pause)
	Granma's dead.

		TOM
		(shocked)
	When?

		MA
	Since before they stopped us las' 
	night.

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

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

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

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

The scene fades out.

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

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

		TOM
	Right here. We give out a gas.

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

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

		POLICEMAN
		(patiently)
	If I seen one a them things I must a 
	seen ten thousan'.

		PA
	Ain't it no good?

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

		TOM
	Sallisaw.

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

		ROSASHARN
		(pleased)
	Why, Connie's folks from Cherokee 
	County--

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

		PA
		(worriedly)
	But what we gonna *do*?

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

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

		ATTENDANT
		(brightly)
	How many, folks?

		AL
		(after a pause)
	One.

The attendant regards him in disgust.

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

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

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

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

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

		GIRL
		(shyly)
	I could break up some bresh if you 
	want me, ma'am.

		MA
		(gently)
	You want to get ast to eat, hunh?

		GIRL
		(simply)
	Yes, ma'am.

		MA
	Didn' you have no breakfast?

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

		MA
	Didn' none of these have no breakfast?

There is a long silence. Then:

		BOY
		(boastfully)
	I did. Me an' my brother did. We et 
	good.

		MA
	Then you ain't hungry, are you?

The boy chokes, his lip sticks out.

		BOY
		(doggedly)
	We et good.
		(Then he breaks and 
		runs)

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

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

Pa and John enter.

		PA
	How 'bout it?

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

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

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

		TOM
	Whatta ya mean? You ain't et today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INSIDE THE TENT they have all finished their stew already.

		MA
		(bitterly)
	I done fine! Now nobody got enough!

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

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

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

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

		AGENT
	You men want to work?

		PA
	Sure we wanta work. Where's it at?

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

		FLOYD
	You doin' the hirin'?

		AGENT
	Well, I'm contracting the land.

		FIRST MAN
	Whay you payin?

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

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

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

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

		AGENT
		(ominously)
	You trying to tell me how to run my 
	own business?

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

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

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

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

		AGENT
		(turning)
	Joe!

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

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

		DEPUTY
		(entering)
	What's the trouble?

		AGENT
		(pointing at Floyd)
	Ever see this guy before?

		DEPUTY
	What'd he do?

		AGENT
	He's agitatin'.

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

		TOM
	You got nothin' on him.

		DEPUTY
	Open your trap again and you'll go 
	too.

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

The men say nothing.

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

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

		DEPUTY
		(to Floyd)
	Now, you.

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

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

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

		TOM
		(angrily)
	I ain't gonna run.

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

		TOM
	You're right!

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

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

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

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

		AL
	How 'bout you?

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

		AL
	But ain't no reason--

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

		AL
	Okay. I think you're a darn fool, 
	though.

		CASY
	Sure. Why not?

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

		SECOND DEPUTY
	What's goin' on here?

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

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

		CASY
	I talked back.

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

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

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

		DEPUTY
		(dazedly)
	Don't look like him.

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

		DEPUTY
		(shuddering)
	Don't look like him, but... maybe it 
	was. I ain't sure.

		SECOND DEPUTY
	Get in that car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		PA
		(solemnly)
	Now don't get sassy, Ma.

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

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

		AL
		(sullenly)
	I'd come back--

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

They stand staring at each other in silence.

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

IN FRONT OF THE JOAD TENT again:

		PA
		(helplessly)
	Jus' sassy, that's all.

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	Hey, Al!

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

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

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

		JOHN
		(from tent)
	Here I am.

		PA
	What's a matter now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

		MA
	Pa! Shh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		MA
	Maybe that's jus' what he done.

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

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

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

		MA
	You promised, Tommy.

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

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

		TOM
	What's that--detour?

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

		LEADER
	Where you think you're goin'?

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	Which way is it at, mister?

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

		TOM
	Yes, sir.

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

		MA
		(whispering)
	Don't you min', Tommy. You done good. 
	You done jus' good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		SPENCER
	Morning.

		TOM
	Morning.

		SPENCER
	You people looking for work?

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

		SPENCER
	Can you pick peaches?

		TOM
	We can pick anything.

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

This is electrifying news, as their faces show.

		TOM
	Mister, we sure that ya!

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

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

		TOM
	Get some sugar too, for the coffee.

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

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

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

		AL
	What is it, a wreck?

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

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

		COP
	Want to work, do you?

		TOM
	Sure do.

		COP
	Pull up behind that car.
		(Calling)
	Okay for this one. Take 'em through.

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

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

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

		AL
	Maybe the road's out.

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

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

		MEN
	Go on, go on! Keep movin'!

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

		BOOKKEEPER
	Want to work?

		TOM
	Sure, but what is this?

		BOOKKEEPER
	That's not your affair. Name.

		TOM
	Joad.

		BOOKKEEPER
	How many men?

		TOM
	Four.

		BOOKKEEPER
	Women?

		TOM
	Two.

		BOOKKEEPER
	Kids?

		TOM
	Two.

		BOOKKEEPER
	Can all of you work?

		TOM
	Why, I guess so.

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

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

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

		FIRST DEPUTY
	Name.

		TOM
		(impatiently)
	Joad. Say, what is this here?

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

		FIRST DEPUTY
	542-567 Oklahoma.

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

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

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

		ROSASHARN
	We gonna live here?

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

		ROSASHARN
	I like the tent better.

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

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

		CLERK
	Name?

		TOM
		(patiently)
	It's still Joad.

		CLERK
		(doling out the buckets)
	How many?

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

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

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

		TOM
		(wiping his mouth)
	Got any more, Ma?

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

		PA
	That!

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

		TOM
	I ain't full.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(laughing)
	Okay. I be back a little later.

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

		TOM
		(leaving)
	Okay, Ma. Don't you worry.

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

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

		GUARD
	Where you think you're going?

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

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

		TOM
	You mean I can't even get outa here?

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

		TOM
	I'll walk back.

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	Evenin'.

		JOE
	Who are you?

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

		JOE
	Know anybody here?

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

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

		CASY
	What's the matter?

		TOM
	Casy! What you doin' here?

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

		TOM
	Thought you was in jail.

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

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

		FRANK
	This the fella you been talkin' about?

		CASY
	This is him. What you doin' here, 
	Tommy?

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

		FRANK
	This here's a strike.

		TOM
		(puzzled)
	Well, fi' cents a box ain't much, 
	but a fella can eat.

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

		TOM
	Sure. We made a buck since midday.

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

		TOM
	I dunno. Payin' five now.

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

		TOM
	I aim to.

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

		FRANK
		(suddenly)
	You hear sump'n?

They listen. Then:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		CASY
	What's the matter?

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

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

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

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

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

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

IN FRONT OF THE TENT:

		CASY
		(softly)
	What is it?

		FRANK
	I dunno. Listen.

There are night sounds but little else to be distinguished.

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

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

		JOE
		(whispering)
	Down that way--under the bridge span.

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

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

		VOICE
	There they are! Stand where you are!

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

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

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

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

		DEPUTY
	Shut up, you red--

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

		SECOND DEPUTY
	Looks like to me you killed him.

		DEPUTY
	Turn him over. Put the light on him.

Bending over, their bodies hide Casy.

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

		DEPUTY'S VOICE
	Serves him right, too.

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

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

		SECOND DEPUTY
	Where's that flash?

		THIRD DEPUTY
	Here.

The light flashes on the man's face.

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

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

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

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

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

		MA
	Anybody ask anything?

		ROSASHARN
	No'm.

		MA
	Stand by the door.

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

		MA
	How's it feel, Tommy?

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

		MA
	Looks like you done it.

		TOM
		(soberly)
	I kinda thought so. Felt like it.

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

		TOM
	They killed Casy first.

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

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

		MA
	They know he got hit in the face.

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(tiredly)
	Okay, Ma. I shouldn't, though. I 
	know I shouldn't. But okay.

		ROSASHARN
	Here come a lot of people.

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

		BOOKKEEPER'S VOICE
	How many of you?

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

OUTSIDE HOUSE 63, the bookkeeper has encountered the 
newcomers.

		BOOKKEEPER
	House 25. Number's on the door.

		MIGRANT
	Okay, mister. Whatcha payin'?

		BOOKKEEPER
	Two and a half cents.

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

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

		MIGRANT
	But--but how we gonna eat?

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

		MIGRANT
		(sullenly)
	Which way is House 25?

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

		MA
	Comes night we'll get outa here.

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

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

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

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

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

		PA
	We're goin' out.

		GUARD
	What for?

		MA
	We got a job offered--good job.

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

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

		GUARD
	I guess that's what he looked like.

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

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

		AL
	Short fella. Pale face.

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

		AL
	I didn't see nothin'.

		GUARD
		(reluctantly)
	Okay. Go on.

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

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

		SECOND GUARD
	Goin' out for good?

		AL
	Yeah. Goin' north. Got a job.

		SECOND GUARD
	Okay.

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

IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE TRUCK:

		MA
	You done good, Al. Just good.

Al shows his pleased pride in her quiet approval.

		PA
	Know where we're a-goin'?

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

The TRUCK is rattling along the highway.

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

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

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

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

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

The TRUCK keeps moving along.

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

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

		TOM
	She's hotter'n a heifer.

		AL
	Fan-belt's shot.

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

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

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

		TOM
	Any gas?

		AL
	Gallon or two?

		TOM
		(whistling)
	Well, looks like we done it this 
	time awright!

		ROSASHARN
		(standing in truck)
	Tommy.
		(Pointing)
	Some smoke up there.

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

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

		AL
	She got to make it.

		MA
		(as they get back in)
	What is it?

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

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

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

		CARETAKER
		(mildly)
	You hit 'er too fast.

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

		AL
	What's the idea of that?

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

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

		AL
	Got any room here for us?

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

		MA
	What's that?

		CARETAKER
	Toilet and showers and washtubs.

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

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

		AL
		(quickly)
	Cops?

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

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

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

		PA
	We gonna stay, ain't we?

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

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

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

		TOM
		(watching him)
	Joad. Tom Joad.

		CARETAKER
		(writing)
	How many of you?

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

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

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

		MA
	You don't look so good.

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

INSIDE THE CARETAKER'S SHACK:

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

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

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

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

		CARETAKER
	That's the way it is.

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	You got dances too?

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

		TOM
	Say, who runs this place?

		CARETAKER
	Government.

		TOM
	Why ain't they more like it?

		CARETAKER
		(shortly)
	*You* find out, I can't.

		TOM
	Anything like work aroun' here?

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

		TOM
		(leaving)
	Ma's shore gonna like it here. She 
	ain't been treated decent for a long 
	time.

		CARETAKER
		(as Tom is at the 
		door)
	That cut you got?

		TOM
		(evenly)
	Crate fell on me.

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

		TOM
	Goodnight.

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

		TOM
	Good mornin'.

		WOMAN
	Mornin'.

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

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

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

		WINFIELD
		(sleepily)
	Whatsa matter?

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

He stumbles after her.

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

		RUTHIE
	Come on. Ain't nobody gonna say 
	anything.

		WINFIELD
	Won't they ketch us?

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

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

Another silence. Then:

		WINFIELD'S VOICE
	What's these?

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

Another silence. Then:

		WINFIELD'S VOICE
		(excitedly)
	Jes' like in the catalogues, ain't 
	they!

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

		WINFIELD'S VOICE
	What's this?

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

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

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

		WINFIELD'S VOICE
	I never--

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

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

		RUTHIE
		(fiercely)
	Keep qui'te, will ya! Shet your mouth!

		WINFIELD
		(weeping)
	I never knowed it! All I done was 
	pull that string!

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

		WINFIELD
	Please don't.

		RUTHIE
	I won't--
		(craftily)
	--if you won't tell what *I* done!

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

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

		TOM
		(exulting)
	If this don't feel good!

		WILKIE
		(chuckling)
	Wait'll about 'leven o'clock, see 
	how good she feels then!

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

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

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

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

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

		TOM
		(stiffening)
	Yes, sir.

		THOMAS
	And you have dances every Saturday 
	night?

		WILKIE
		(smiling)
	We sure do.

		THOMAS
	Well, look out next Saturday night.

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

		THOMAS
	Don't you ever tell I told.

		TIM
	What is it?

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

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

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

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

		TOM
	But why? Those fellas ain't botherin' 
	nobody.

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

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

They shake hands.

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

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

		GUESTS
	Mister an' Mizz Clark, they ast us.

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

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

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

		WILKIE
	Hidy, Mr. Thomas. Hidy, Mizz Thomas.

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

		WILKIE
		(grinning)
	Don't you worry. Ain't gonna be no 
	trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

		ROSASHARN
	An' you won't let nobody touch me?

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

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

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

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

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

WITHIN THE GATE:

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

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

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

		COMMITTEE MAN
	Who give you the invitation?

		MAN
	Fella named Jackson--Buck Jackson.

		COMMITTEE MAN
	Okay. Come on in.

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

		JULE
	Them's our fellas.

		WILKIE
	How you know?

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

Wilkie moves after them.

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

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

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

		MA
		(quietly)
	Thank you kin'ly but she ain't well.

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

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

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

WILKIE AND JACKSON are seen; removed somewhat from the dance 
floor they are peering in the direction of the three men.

		JACKSON
	I seen 'em before. Worked at 
	Gregorio's with 'em. But I never ast 
	'em.

		WILKIE
	Awright. Keep your eye on 'em. Jus' 
	keep 'em in sight, that's all.
		(He moves quickly 
		away)

We find ourselves INSIDE TIM WALLACE'S TENT.  The five members 
of the central committee, Tim Wallace, chairman, look grave 
as a 15-year-old boy reports.

		BOY
	I seen 'em, Mr. Wallace. A car with 
	six men parked down by the euc'lyptus 
	tree an' one with three men on the 
	main road. They got guns, too. I 
	seen 'em.

		TIM
	Thank you, Willie. You done good.
		(As Willie exits)
	Well, it looks like the fat's in the 
	far this time.

		FIRST MAN
		(angrily)
	What them deppities want to hurt the 
	camp for? How come they can't leave 
	us be?

		SECOND MAN
	What we oughta do, we oughta git us 
	some pickhandles an'--

		TIM
		(quickly)
	No!  That's what they want. No sir. 
	If they can git a fight goin', then 
	they can run in the cops an' say we 
	ain't orderly--
		(He stops as Wilkie 
		enters followed by 
		Tom)

		WILKIE
	They're here. We got 'em spotted.

There is a grim pause at this news. Tim's eyes go hard.

		TIM
		(to Tom)
	You sure you got ever'thing ready?

		TOM
		(calmly)
	Ain't gonna be no trouble.

		TIM
		(worriedly)
	You ain't to hurt them fellas.

		WILKIE
		(grinning)
	You don't have to worry. We got 
	ever'thing arranged. Maybe nobody'll 
	even see it.

		TIM
	Just don't use no stick nor no knife, 
	no piece a arn. An' if you got to 
	sock 'em, sock 'em where they won't 
	bleed.

		TOM
	Yes, sir.

		TIM
	Awright. An' if she gets outa han', 
	I'll be in the right han' corner, 
	this side the dance floor.

		TOM
		(blandly)
	Ain't gonna get outa han'.

Wilkie makes a mocking military salute as he and Tom exit. 
The committee men look worriedly after them.

		FIRST MAN
	Mighty sure a themselves, looks like.

		TIM
	All I hope, I hope they don't kill 
	nobody.

In front of the JOAD TENT, dressed to kill, is Al, ready for 
the festivities. He wears a tight-fitting wool suit, a tie 
on his shirt, yellow shoes, and his hair is damp and slicked 
down. He rubs his hands together in anticipation as he strolls 
in the direction of the dance floor.

At ANOTHER TENT, a blonde girl sits on a box as Al enters. 
Casually he throws open his coat, revealing a vivid striped 
shirt. This is designed to stun his quarry.

		AL
	Gonna dance tonight?
		(The girl 
		ostentatiously ignores 
		him)
	I can waltz.

		GIRL
		(aloofly)
	That's nothin'--anybody can waltz.

		AL
		(shaking his head)
	Not like me!

A fat woman thrusts her head out of the tent.

		WOMAN
	You git right along! This here girl's 
	spoke for. She's gonna be married, 
	an' her man's a-comin' for her.

Shrugging, Al winks at the girl and moves on, stepping and 
moving his shoulders and snapping his fingers in time to the 
music, a very gay fellow indeed. The blonde girl's eyes follow 
him. Then she turns and glances cautiously toward the tent.

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, we see Ma and Rosasharn as Tom enters 
and stands between them. This is during a pause between dances 
and only a few couples stand on the floor waiting for the 
music to begin again. We also see the three men very casually 
looking around--but no more casual looking than Wilkie, 
standing just behind them, idly whistling.

		TOM
		(grinning)
	She's gettin' prettier, Ma.

		MA
		(as Rosasharn hides 
		her face)
	Girl with a baby *always* gets 
	prettier.

The music starts again, once more the dancers move onto the 
dance floor. The three men exchange a glance and step casually 
to the edge of the dancing space, one in the lead. They survey 
the scene, but for the moment make no further move. The 
atmosphere is tense.

		TOM
		(softly)
	Excuse me, Ma.
		(He moves quietly out 
		of the scene, toward 
		the three men)

AL, taking the blonde girl's hand, steps onto the dance floor. 
Encircling her waist, they begin to dance. They are a smooth, 
rhythmic couple who move as one being.

		AL
	Well, you said anybody can waltz... 
	How'm *I* doin'?

		BLONDE GIRL
	Don't hold me so tight.

		AL
		(tongue-in-cheek)
	Why, I ain't hardly touchin' you!

		BLONDE GIRL
		(squirming)
	You're *ticklin' me!*

		AL
		(grabbing her still 
		closer)
	That comes from not holdin' you tight 
	*enough.*

		BLONDE GIRL
		(complaining but loving 
		it)
	Now I can't breathe.

At this moment the leader of the three men (the other two 
directly behind him) enters the scene.

		LEADER
	I'll dance with this girl.

		AL
		(angrily)
	You an' who else?

Behind the three men a solid wall of migrants are closing in 
quietly, Tom and Wilkie in the middle.

		LEADER
	Don't gimme no argament--
		(A shrill whistle 
		sounds in the distance)
	--you little--

His fist goes back, his left hand reaches for Al's collar. 
At the same instant Tom grabs him, Wilkie claps his hand 
over the leader's mouth, at least fifteen other men have 
similarly collard the other two invaders, and they are all 
lifted bodily. There is not a sound as the three men, held 
in iron grips, are whisked from the dance floor and into the 
crowd.

Two touring cars have stopped in front of the closed GATE 
and the deputies have drawn guns.

		DRIVER
	Open up! We hear you got a riot.

		CARETAKER
	Riot? I don't see no riot. Who're 
	you?

		DRIVER
	Deputy sheriffs.

		CARETAKER
	Got a warrant?

		DRIVER
	We don't need a warrant if it's a 
	riot.

		CARETAKER
	Well, I don't know what you gonna do 
	about it, because I don't hear no 
	riot an' I don't see no riot, an' 
	what's more I don't believe they 
	*is* no riot.
		(Waving toward the 
		dance floor)
	Look for yourself.

As the deputies, puzzled and uncertain, look toward the DANCE 
FLOOR, we see the music, the dancing, the gaiety continuing 
as if nothing had happened.

WITHIN THE JOAD TENT at night, several hours later: the tent 
is black, Tom strikes a match. From a piece of wood on the 
ground or floor he selects one from several cigarette butts 
and lights it. While he is doing so, he lifts his head 
suddenly, and listens.

In the CAMP STREET we catch sight of legs walking, the ground 
lighted from a flashlight. Two pairs of the legs wear state 
policemen's leather leggings. The third pair are the 
caretaker's. They stop behind a car. The flashlight plays on 
the license plate. One of the state cops leans down to copy 
the license number in a booklet. Then they move on.

TOM has lifted the edge of the tent a trifle, enough to see 
out by flattening his head on the floor. The LEGS are now 
seen at the Joad jalopy. The light is on the license plate. 
The cop leans over and copies the number. They move on.

TOM, lowering the edge of the tent, sits up. Quietly he pushes 
aside the piece of carpet that covers him. He is wearing his 
clothes. We see the policeman's CAR at the caretaker's hut. 
The two policemen get into the car.

		CARETAKER
	You got no right to arrest anybody 
	without a warrant, you know.

		FIRST COP
	We'll have a warrant--just as soon 
	as we check with headquarters.

The car drives off, leaving the caretaker looking somberly 
after it.

WITHIN THE JOAD TENT, his cap on, fully dressed for travel, 
Tom is tieing the ends of the carpet into a shoulder bundle. 
Rising, he slings it across his shoulder. As he tiptoes toward 
the door:

		MA
	Ain't you gonna tell me goodbye, 
	Tommy?

For a moment he looks into the darkness in her direction.

		TOM
	I didn't know, Ma. I didn't know if 
	I ought.

She has risen, pulling the quilt around her. He takes her by 
the hand.

		TOM
	Come outside.

They go out. Tom leads Ma around BEHIND THE TENT, to a SECTION 
OF WIRE FENCE. There is a bench there. Tom leads Ma to it 
and sits her down. He sits beside her.

		TOM
	They was some cops here, Ma. They 
	was takin' down the license numbers. 
	It looks like somebody knows sump'n.

		MA
		(softly)
	It had to come, I reckon, soon or 
	later.

		TOM
	I'd like to stay. I'd like to be 
	with ya--
		(smiling)
	--an' see your face when you an' Pa 
	get settled in a nice little place. 
	I sure wish I could see you then. 
	But--
		(shaking his head)
	--I guess I won't never be able to 
	do that. Not now.

		MA
	I could hide you, Tommy.

		TOM
		(touching her hand)
	I know you would, Ma. But I ain't 
	gonna let you. You hide somebody 
	that's kilt a man an'... an' you'd 
	be in trouble too.

		MA
		(touching his face 
		with her fingers)
	Awright, Tommy. What you figger you 
	gonna do?

		TOM
		(thoughtfully)
	You know what I been thinkin' about, 
	Ma? About Casy. About what he said, 
	what he done, an' about how he died. 
	An' I remember all of it.

		MA
	He was a good man.

		TOM
	I been thinkin' about us, too--about 
	our people livin' like pigs, an' 
	good rich lan' layin' fallow, or 
	maybe one fella with a million acres, 
	while a hundred thousan' farmers is 
	starvin'. An' I been wonderin' if 
	all our folks got together an' yelled--

		MA
		(frightened)
	Tommy, they'll drive you, an' cut 
	you down like they done to Casy.

		TOM
	They gonna drive me anyways. Soon or 
	later they'll get me, for one thing 
	if not another. Until then...

		MA
	You don't aim to kill nobody, Tom!

		TOM
	No, Ma. Not that. That ain't it. But 
	long as I'm a outlaw, anyways, maybe 
	I can do sump'n. Maybe I can jus' 
	fin' out sump'n. Jus' scrounge aroun' 
	an' try to fin' out what it is that's 
	wrong, an then see if they ain't 
	sump'n could be done about it.
		(Worriedly)
	But I ain't thought it out clear, 
	Ma. I can't. I don't know enough.

		MA
		(after a pause)
	How'm I gonna know 'bout you? They 
	might kill you an' I wouldn't know. 
	They might hurt you. How'm I gonna 
	know?

		TOM
		(laughing uneasily)
	Well, maybe it's like Casy says, a 
	fella ain't got a soul of his own, 
	but on'y a piece of a big soul--the 
	one big soul that belongs to ever'body--
	an' then...

		MA
	Then what, Tom?

		TOM
	Then it don't matter. Then I'll be 
	all aroun' in the dark. I'll be 
	ever'where--wherever you look. 
	Wherever there's a fight so hungry 
	people can eat, I'll be there. 
	Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a 
	guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the 
	way guys yell when they're mad--an' 
	I'll be in the way kids laugh when 
	they're hungry an' they know supper's 
	ready. An' when our people eat the 
	stuff they raise, an' live in the 
	houses they build, why, I'll be there 
	too.

		MA
		(slowly)
	I don't understan' it, Tom.

		TOM
		(drily)
	Me neither.
		(Rising)
	It's jus' stuff I been thinkin' about. 
	Gimme you han', Ma. Good-by.
		(He climbs over the 
		fence)

		MA
	Good-by, Tom. Later--when it's blowed 
	over--you'll come back? You'll try 
	to fin' us?

		TOM
	Sure. Good-by.

		MA
	Good-by, Tommy.

He walks away. She stands looking after him. He's leaving 
her forever--she knows it. She lifts her hand and waves. She 
tries to smile. TOM turns, waves, smiles. His lips form the 
words: "Good-by, Ma." Then he strides away into the darkness.

The scene fades out.

The JOAD TRUCK fades in. It stands loaded in front on the 
Joad tent while Al, Pa, Uncle John, Ma, and the little fellas 
pile in the last article in a fury of excitement. Beyond, in 
the background, another jalopy is being prepared for travel 
with the same feverish haste. It is day.

		AL, PA, JOHN
		(ad lib)
	Get them buckets on! Somebody tie 
	down the mattress! You little fellas 
	keep outa the way!

		MAN
		(from the other truck, 
		gaily)
	What y'all hurryin' so for? Tell me 
	they got twenny days work.

		PA
	Yes, sir, an' we aim to git in all 
	twenny of 'em.

Other jalopies in the background are being readied for leaving--
an excited, hopeful exodus on a new report of work.

		AL
	Ready, Ma?

		MA
	I'll get Rosasharn.

		PA
		(beaming)
	All aboard, ever'body! All aboard 
	for Fresno!

Ma comes out of the tent supporting Rosasharn tenderly. For 
the plumpness has gone from the girl and she is thin again, 
her face drawn and unhappy, her eyes swollen with weeping 
and suffering.

		MA
		(softly)
	Try to be strong, honey. Someday 
	it'll be diff'rent--someday you'll 
	have another one. You're still jus' 
	a little girl, remember.

Pa takes Rosasharn's other arm. He and Al and Uncle John 
help Rosasharn onto the truck. She lies down on the mattress, 
her face away from them.

		PA
	Make her easy, John. Watch her.

		MA
	She'll be awright.

		AL
		(in the driver's seat)
	Ready, Pa?

		PA
		(as he and Ma climb 
		in the front seat)
	Let 'er go, Gallagher!

The truck wabbles into motion. Al races the engine. It nearly 
crashes another wheezing jalopy at the corner. When it turns 
the corner we see the GATE, and a line of loaded jalopies 
that ride out to the highway. The caretaker waves and the 
migrants wave back.

		CARETAKER
	Good luck to you! Good luck, 
	ever'body!

		THE JOADS
	Good-by, Mr. Conway! Much oblige to 
	you for ever'thing!

The Joad truck turns onto the highway. In the FRONT SEAT Al 
is driving, Ma in the middle, Pa on the outside.

		AL
	Twenty days work, oh boy!

		PA
	Be glad to get my han' on some cotton. 
	That's the kin' a pickin' I 
	understan'.

		MA
	Maybe. Maybe twenny days work, maybe 
	*no* days work. We ain't got it till 
	we get it.

		AL
		(grinning)
	Whatsa matter, Ma? Gettin' scared?

		MA
		(smiling faintly)
	No. Ain't ever gonna be scared no 
	more.
		(After a pause)
	I was, though. For a while I thought 
	we was beat--*good* an' beat. Looked 
	like we didn't have nothin' in the 
	worl' but enemies--wasn't *no*body 
	frien'ly anymore. It made me feel 
	bad an' scared too--like we was 
	lost... an' nobody cared.

		AL
	Watch me pass that Chevvy.

		PA
		(soberly)
	You the one that keeps us goin', Ma. 
	I ain't no good any more, an' I know 
	it. Seems like I spen' all my time 
	these days a-thinkin' how it use'ta 
	be--thinkin' of home--an' I ain't 
	never gonna see it no more.

Ma places her hand on one of Pa's and pats it.

		MA
	Woman can change better'n a man. Man 
	lives in jerks--baby born, or somebody 
	dies, that's a jerk--gets a farm, or 
	loses one, an' that's a jerk. With a 
	woman it's all one flow, like a 
	stream, little eddies, little 
	waterfalls, but the river it goes 
	right on. Woman looks at it like 
	that.

		AL
		(at the jalopy ahead)
	Look at that ol' coffeepot steam!

		PA
		(thinking of what Ma 
		says)
	Maybe, but we shore takin' a beatin'.

		MA
		(chuckling)
	I know. Maybe that makes us tough. 
	Rich fellas come up an' they die, 
	an' their kids ain't no good, an' 
	they die out. But we keep a-comin'. 
	We're the people that live. Can't 
	nobody wipe us out. Can't nobody 
	lick us. We'll go on forever, Pa. 
	We're the people.
		(She says this with a 
		simple, unaffected 
		conviction)

The TRUCK, steaming and rattling and churning, passes the 
Chevrolet and Al leans out of the window and waves a jeering 
hand at it. As the Joad truck pulls in front, we see Ruthie 
and Winfield laughing with excitement over the triumph. Even 
Uncle John shares the general satisfaction. Grinning, he 
waves. As the truck moves away along the road, all three and 
beaming and waving. Further along the truck passes a sign on 
the side of the road. It says NO HELP WANTED.

The scene fades out.

		    THE END

 
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