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Building on his Academy Award-winning screenplay of the classic film, Budd Schulberg's On the Waterfront is the story of ex-prizefighter Terry Malloy's valiant stand against corruption on the New Jersey docks. It generates all the power, grittiness, and truth of that great production, but goes beyond it in set and setting. It is a novel of strength and fallibility, of hope and defeat, of love and betrayal. In his Introduction, Mr. Schulberg writes: "The film's concentration on a single dominating character, ...
Building on his Academy Award-winning screenplay of the classic film, Budd Schulberg's On the Waterfront is the story of ex-prizefighter Terry Malloy's valiant stand against corruption on the New Jersey docks. It generates all the power, grittiness, and truth of that great production, but goes beyond it in set and setting. It is a novel of strength and fallibility, of hope and defeat, of love and betrayal. In his Introduction, Mr. Schulberg writes: "The film's concentration on a single dominating character, brought close to the camera eye, made it esthetically inconvenient, if not impossible, to set Terry's story in its social and historical perspective…suggesting the knotted complexities of the world of the waterfront that loops around New York."
A Riverfront Street
REPORTER: Did you know that only a few blocks west of here, just a short walk from Theater Row, you cross the boundary into another country, the New York waterfront—the greatest natural harbor in the world—host to the Cunard Line and the French luxury liners—and the hunting grounds of the pistol local—Four-forty-seven, The Skelly Mob. A no-man's land. The Wild East. Where hiring bosses are recruited in Sing Sing and Dannemora. Down there they tell you not to ask questions—if you want to stay healthy. But I'm a reporter. The docks are my beat. It's my job to ask questions. So I keep going down there looking for answers. OK, let's get to work. We're outside a rundown tenement, down the street from Johnny Friendly's Bar facing the piers. It's nightfall, in the mid 1950s.
(The cast files in. Terry Malloy enters last.)
MUTT: (wanders through muttering a mournful song) Tippi-tippi-tin, tippi-tin.... Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan....
TERRY: (entering, calling up from street) Hey Joey!
MUTT: Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan.... Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan....
TERRY: Hey Joey! Hey Joey!
JOEY: (calling down from rooftop) Hey Terry! What do youwant?
MUTT: Tippi-tippi-tin, tippi-tin.... Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan....
TERRY: (reaching into windbreaker for live pigeon) Look—He's one o' yers. I c'd tell from the band.
JOEY: Yeah? Must be Danny Boy. I been lookin' for 'im. Lost 'im in the last race.
TERRY: He followed my birds into my coop. I figured you'd want 'im back.
JOEY: I sure do. He's one of my best.
TERRY: Yeah, he's a nice bird. Wanna come down 'n' get 'im?
JOEY: Well, I don't know. I'm in a little hot water right now. Gotta watch myself with certain people—I guess you know who.
TERRY: Look, ya want yer bird back or don't you?
JOEY: Sure, only I'm not comin' down to get 'im. I'm stayin' off the streets these days, know what I mean?
TERRY: OK, so why don't I bring 'im up to yer coop?
JOEY: Yeah, I been checkin' on the little buggers an' there's nobody around. Thanks, Terry. See ya up here!
MUTT: Tippi-tippi-tin, tippi-tin.... Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan....
TERRY: (running into Mutt) What the hell—
MUTT: Jus' me, pal—jus' old Mutt. Got a dime fer a one-armed member of the Four-forty-seven?
TERRY: Fuck off!
MUTT: A dime fer a cuppa coffee ...?
TERRY: Don't gimme that coffee, ya juice-head!
MUTT: Terry Malloy. I shoulda known. You 'n' Joey grew up together. Only he's aces and you're a bum. (exits) Ya hear me, Terry? A bum! Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan.... Tippi-tippi-tan, tippi-tan....
REPORTER: (Charley, Truck, and Skins enter) Waiting for Terry outside Johnny Friendly's Bar are Charley (the Gent) Malloy and two enforcers, Truck and Barney.
CHARLEY: How did it go?
TERRY: Joey's up on the roof.
CHARLEY: The pigeon bit?
TERRY: Like you said, Charley—it worked. He's still up there.
CHARLEY: What did I tell ya? Nice goin', kid. Here's your sawbuck.
TRUCK: Dat brudder o' yers—thinkin' alla time.
BARNEY: All the time.
(Joey screams offstage ending with the thud of a body hitting the ground. Tommy, Luke, Moose, and Jimmy enter. An actor also enters and plays the body. Tommy places a jacket over the body.)
TRUCK: Waddaya know? Somebody fell offa roof.
BARNEY: Asshole thought he was gonna sing f'r the Crime Commission.
TRUCK: Bye, bye, birdie.
TERRY: You said they was only goin' to talk to him!
CHARLEY: Maybe he gave them an argument.
TERRY: I figured the worst they'd do is jus' lean on 'im a little....
TRUCK: He's been givin' the boss a lot of trouble, kid.
TERRY: He wasn't a bad little fella, Joey.
CHARLEY: No, he wasn't.
TRUCK: Except for his mouth.
TERRY: Wasn't a bad little fella....
TRUCK: Maybe he could sing, but he couldn't fly.
BARNEY: Definitely. (Barney and Truck exit)
CHARLEY: How about a shot, kid? I'm buyin'.
TERRY: In a minute.
CHARLEY: Come on, kid. (exits)
RUNTY: (entering) Who is it?
TOMMY: Joey. Real bad.
RUNTY: Joey Doyle?
LUKE: All smashed up.
(Pop Doyle enters)
TOMMY: Yeah, don't let Pop—
POP: What's goin' on?
MOOSE: Pop, you better go on home ...
RUNTY: (holding Pop back) Yeah, we'll take care o' things....
POP: Lemme go! (walks over to body) Oh, Joey, Joey—I kept tellin' 'im, Don't say nuthin', keep quiet, you'll live longer ...
RUNTY: Wasn't Joey's style, Pop. Never knuckled under to nobody.
MOOSE: We better get an ambulance—fast.
TOMMY: Ambulance ain't gonna help.
MOOSE: Kid, run down to Saint Tim's 'n' get one o' the priests. (Jimmy exits)
POP: If he oney lissened to me—stayed D 'n' D—He—he wouldn't be ... Joey ... Joey!
LUKE: Your boy had guts, Pop. Enough guts for a regiment.
RUNTY: A regular bravadeero. Strictly a stand-up guy.
POP: So put it on his tombstone! He gets a book in the pistol local and right away he's gonna be a hero! Gonna push the mob off the docks single-handed....
RUNTY: C'mon—let's go get a coupla shots in us.
POP: First I gotta call Edie, up at the school. (starts to exit) Edie an' Joey, they was like twins ... (exits)
FATHER BARRY: (enters followed by Joey) The kid says there's been an accident.
TOMMY: Accident? Who's kiddin' who?
LUKE: That's what they always call it: an "accident."
MOOSE: Some accident!
FATHER BARRY: (Father Barry kneels over the body and begins to administer Last Rites) Susepe Domine/ Servum tuum/ancillam tuam/in locum sperandae sibi salvationis a misericordia tua/Amen.
Backroom of the Friendly Bar
(The boys are seated at a table and chairs, watching a
fight on TV and shouting cheers and comments.)
BARNEY: Hey Terry—this ya gotta see!
TRUCK: Yeah, kid—Riley's makin' a bum outa Durazzo!
BARNEY: C'mon over and have a shot.
JOHNNY: (Johnny Friendly enters) Turn it off—them clowns can't fight. There's nobody tough anymore. (to Terry) Not like you, slugger. You coulda licked 'em both with one hand tied behind ya! How they hangin'? (crosses to Terry and picks him up off chair) Don't hit me now, don't hit me! (sits in chair)
MAC: Hey, boss—the cut from the shape-up. Skins turned it over t' me. Eight hunnert an' ninety-one men at three bucks a head makes twenty-six seventy-three.
JOHNNY: Not bad. (to Charley) Count it.
MAC: We get a banana boat tomorra. Pier Forty-six. If we pull a walkout, we might do very lovely with the shippers. I hear bananas go bad in a hurry.
JOHNNY: OK—ask ten G's. But make it look legit. Right, Charley?
CHARLEY: No problem. We tell the press we're just fighting for the rights of the men.
MAC: (sings mockingly) "Hold the fort, for we are coming—union men be strong ...!"
JOHNNY: Shaddup! Where's Morgan? Where's that big banker o' mine?
MORGAN: (enters) Right here, boss.
JOHNNY: Well J.P., how's business?
MORGAN: Havin' trouble with Kelly again—he won't take no loans but Big Mac here puts him to work anyway.
MAC: He's my wife's nephew!
MORGAN: Screw it! He won't take no loans! How we gonna keep the men in line if you—
MAC: I got ta give 'im work! She'd moida me.
MORGAN: Tough tit! Here's the interest on the week, boss. Eighteen hunnert 'n' thirty-two.
JOHNNY: Hey Mac—count it. Oh, Skins—How'dja make out with the sheet metal?
SKINS: (entering) The new checker faked the receipt, an' two hours later the tin's sittin' in somebody's warehouse jus' like it belongs there.
JOHNNY: Who says it don't—if the price is right?
SKINS: Definitely. Forty-five bills.
JOHNNY: Hey Terry—front 'n' center. Count this.
TERRY: Aw, Johnny, ya know I don't like t' count. Gives me a headache.
JOHNNY: It's good for you. Develops your mind.
MAC: What mind?
TERRY: You're not so funny tonight, fat man. (Terry takes a step toward Mac and vice versa)
JOHNNY: Back up, Mac—I like the kid. Remember the night he took Farella at St. Nick's?
CHARLEY: We won a bundle.
JOHNNY: Real tough. A big try.
TERRY: Not a dent. Perfect.
JOHNNY: My favorite little cousin.
TERRY: Thirty-six—sev—ah, I lost the count.
JOHNNY: Skip it, Einstein. How come you never got no education like the rest of us?
MAC: Oney arithmetic he ever learned was hearin' the ref count over him—seven ... eight ... nine ... ten!
TERRY: OK, fat man! (Johnny stops them from fighting; Charley grabs Terry and pulls him back; and Mac backs up a few steps)
JOHNNY: Charley, what gives with your brother tonight? He ain't himself.
CHARLEY: The Joey Doyle thing. You know how it is. Things like that—he exaggerates them. Too much Marquees of Queensbury. It softens 'em up.
JOHNNY: Listen, kid, I'm a soft touch too. Ask any rummy on the docks if Johnny Friendly ain't good for a fin anytime they put the arm on 'im. But my old lady raised us kids—ten of us—on a stinkin' watchman's pension. When I was sixteen I hadda beg for work in the hold. I didn't work my way up outa there for nuthin'.
TERRY: I know, Johnny, I know....
JOHNNY: Takin' over this local, Four-forty-seven, it took a little doin'. Some pretty tough fellas were in the way—Fisheye Hennesy an' Turkey Smith. They left me with this (indicates scar on neck)—See it?—to remember 'em by.
CHARLEY: He was holding his throat to keep the blood in and he still chased 'em into the street. They thought it was a dead man coming after them.
TRUCK: They was the dead men. Only they didn't know it yet.
JOHNNY: I know what's eatin' ya, kid. But I got two thousand members in my local, payin' five bucks a month dues—that's a hunnert an' twenny thousand a year legitimate—and when each one of 'm puts in two, three buck a day on toppa that, to make sure they work steady—well, you figure it out. An' that's just for openers. We got the fattest piers in the fattest harbor in the world—right, Charley?
CHARLEY: Everything that moves in or out, we take our cut. But there's plenty of problems and responsibilities. Believe me, whatever we make, we're entitled to it.
JOHNNY: We ain't robbin' pennies from the blind, kid. We're cuttin' ourselves in for five, six million a year just on our half-dozen piers. Ya don't think I'm gonna let anybody screw us outa that kind of a deal, do you? A deal I sweated and bled for—on a counta one lousy little cheese-eater, that Doyle bum, who goes around agitatin' against us an squealin' on Johnny Friendly to that fuckin' Crime Commission. Do you? Well?
TERRY: Sure, Johnny, sure. He had his nerve, givin' ya all that trouble. I jus' thought I shoulda been told what was comin' ... I mean I jus ...
CHARLEY: Johnny—I make it twenty-six twenty-three from the shape. Skins shorted us half a bill.
JOHNNY: (to Skins) You shorted us! Gimme!
(Truck kicks Skins and pushes him to Johnny. Barney gets up and assists in the squeeze on Skins.)
SKINS: I—I musta counted wrong, boss. I—
JOHNNY: Gimme, schlagoom! (after Johnny gets money from Skins he chases him off) Cocksucker! You come from Greenpernt? Go back t' Greenpernt. You don't work here no more. Cocksucker! (to Terry) Here, kid—half a bill. Go get your load on.
TERRY: Thanks, Johnny—I don't want it. I—
JOHNNY: Go on—a little present from your Uncle Johnny. And Mac, tomorra mornin' when you shape the men, put Terry in the loft. Number One. Every day. Just check in an' goof off on the coffee bags. OK matooze?
TERRY: Thanks, Johnny ...
CHARLEY: Hundred bucks a week for doin nothin', kid. You got yaself a real friend here. Don't forget it. (Terry exits)
JOHNNY: Why should he forget it?
The Doyle parlor consists of a few chairs.
(Edie enters, as does Runty with Moose, Tommy, and Pop singing in traditional "wake" fashion. They are carrying bottles and glasses. Pop sits morosely in a chair.)
ALL: (singing) And freely as we lift our heads, we vow our blood to shed, once and forever more to raise, the green above the red.
And freely as we lift our heads, we vow our blood to shed, once and forever more to raise, the green above the red.
TOMMY: Aah, how Joey loved that song!
RUNTY: And why not? 'Tis a fine, brave song. An' he was the bravest of the brave, God rest 'im.
MOOSE: Lord've mercy on 'im ...
RUNTY: Well, here's to God, Ireland, and the present company.... And mud in the eye o' Johnny Friendly!
MOOSE: An' the big boys on toppa him!
EDIE: (suddenly, turning toward them) Who'd want to kill Joey?
EDIE: The best kid in the neighborhood. Not because I'm his sister—everybody loved him. Are you all deaf?. Who'd want to kill Joey?
POP: Pray for 'im, Edie, but don't ask no questions. Fer yer own good. Because you won't get no answers.
EDIE: Who did it?
TOMMY: You know how many murders we get down here every year, Edie? Ten or twelve—every year.
POP: Yes, Edie—an' you know how many that makes
since you was born? An' how many got solved?
RUNTY: Just two, girl—in eighteen years.
MOOSE: They find a fella in the river—they say he was drunk an' fell off the stringpiece....
POP: Or a high-low backs into 'im ... or a sling slips.
LUKE: There's a dozen different ways.
POP: There's more accidents on the docks than anywhere else in the country.
RUNTY: So the pistoleros help the accidents along a little bit.
EDIE: But the police—why don't they do something? Isn't it their job?
POP: Oh, sure it is—in the books you read up there in college. Try 'n' change it, an' all you'll get is a snootful of trouble.
EDIE: Trouble? Can there be any worse trouble? Joey is dead. He's dead ...!
POP: (to Edie) I know—I know. I never told you, but I was like him once. That's how I got this (pointing to old wound on leg)—n' I learned me lesson. Not Joey, rest his soul. He wouldn't listen. God's will Edie. Ya can't fight God's will.
EDIE: God's will? God's will? Are you telling me God wanted Joey dead? (exits)
POP: Edie! (the boys stop Pop from leaving, sit him in chair, and start singing again)
ALL: And freely as we lift our heads,
we vow our blood to shed,
once and forever more to raise,
the green above the red.
On Stoop Outside Doyle Tenement
(Edie enters. After a few moments Father Barry enters.)
FATHER BARRY: Edie. I've come to say the Rosary for Joey. It's rough—he was the best. Always there for six o'clock Mass. We're all gonna miss him. How's your pa takin' it?
EDIE: He's taking it. Better than I am. He's more old-fashioned about it. He's thinking that before too long, he'll be seeing him in Heaven. But I—I have to live all these years without him. Maybe that's selfish, but—but ... Pop is sad but I'm mad, Father. I won't take it! I won't!
FATHER BARRY: Child, I know, I know....
EDIE: Joey—he called me every week ... Joey and I, all we had was each other.... He didn't fall off that roof—he must have been pushed! You know that, don't you? Well, if you don't, you should! No offense, Father, but you should. You should!
FATHER BARRY: Easy, Edie. Easy now. It's a bad day for all of us. I can't give you the easy answers. But time and faith ... time and faith are great healers.
EDIE: Time and faith! My brother's dead, murdered by beasts who spit in the face of God. And all you stand here talking about is "time and faith"!
FATHER BARRY: Edie! It may not be enough, but I do what I can.
EDIE: Are you sure, Father? Isn't there more you could do?
FATHER BARRY: I wish there were. All I can do is help the family. Pray with you ... and try to ease the loss.
EDIE: Only God has the power to give life ... or the
right to take it away. Isn't that true, Father?
FATHER BARRY: Of course—I preach that every day.
EDIE: So if—if those animals take Joey's life, and the police and everybody else just turn their backs on it, isn't it up to you to do something about it? Not just preach about it?
FATHER BARRY: Edie ... I feel for you ... it's hard to find the words ... but they're waiting for me upstairs. Look, why don't we talk later? I'm in the church whenever you need me.
EDIE: "In the church when I need you." Look at St. Paul—Ignatius—Francis Xavier. You think they hid in the church? Was there ever a saint who hid in the church?
(Father Barry pauses a moment, then exits)
EDIE: (continuing) Oh, Mother, Mother of God, help me!
(Runty and Tommy are sleeping. Runty is snoring with a bottle on his stomach rising and falling with each breath. The bottle falls off, waking them up.)
RUNTY: Holy shit! What time is it, Tommy?
TOMMY: I don't know—I think it's daytime. I hocked my watch last week.
RUNTY: Omigod; the sun's up ...
TOMMY: Then it's time to shape, dammit.
EDIE: (enters carrying two mugs) Good morning, boys. Here's some coffee—take it with you. That's what Joey used to do.
TOMMY: Hey thanks, Edie.
RUNTY: Yeah, girl. Take care o' yourself. (Tommy andRunty exit, picking up blankets and bottles from floor)
FATHER BARRY: (enters) Morning, Edie.
EDIE: Pop's gone down to the shape.
FATHER BARRY: It's you I came to see.
EDIE: You think I spoke out of turn last night, Father? Well maybe I did, I was so angry ... I'm still angry!
FATHER BARRY: Those saints you threw in my face.... They kept me up all night.
EDIE: They took chances. Nothing scared them, Father. Nothing stopped them.
FATHER BARRY: But I'm just a gravy-train rider in a turned-around collar? Is that what you think? Is it? (pause) I see the Sisters taught you not to lie.
EDIE: I don't want to think that about you—I know it's not right. But honestly, Father ...
FATHER BARRY: Edie, you don't understand. I put in a sixteen-hour day every day—comforting the sick and praying with them ... helping youngsters out of trouble, getting them back to school, into a job ... hearing confessions ... celebrating Mass ...
EDIE: And presiding at funerals, like Joey's.
FATHER BARRY: Edie, what do you want me to do? Pin a badge on my cassock and track down whoever killed him?
EDIE: Father, have you ever heard about those worker-priests in France? I just wrote a paper on them. I called it "Putting the Church Back in the Streets."
FATHER BARRY: Edie, I know about those priests. But that's Marseilles, Bordeaux. This is New York, Jersey—it's not the same over here.
EDIE: Why not? People get hurt, they get killed here same as over there. But if Joey had been killed in Marseilles or Bordeaux, I just know those priests would be doing something about it.
FATHER BARRY: We have a different set-up on this waterfront. We have a monsignor who's the official Chaplain of the Port. That's his title. So the Whole waterfront is his turf. Nobody in a collar is even supposed to set foot on the docks without his permission.
EDIE: This monsignor—if he's the Chaplain of the Port, maybe I should go to him.
FATHER BARRY: I'm afraid you'd be wasting your time.
FATHER BARRY: He's very good at communion breakfasts, and fund-raisers for the Knights of Columbus—but when it comes to the kind of help you're looking for ...
EDIE: So where does that leave me, Father? If the monsignor's a waste of time, and you won't help me ...
FATHER BARRY: I can't, Edie! Look, I haven't been in this parish very long, and I'm not one of your saints—I'm barely making it as a priest.
EDIE: That's your problem, Father. Joey's mine. He was trying to make things better for the men—that's why he was killed. I know that much. Pop always told me to stay away from the docks. But if I want to get to the bottom of this, maybe I have to go down there.
FATHER BARRY: Edie, I can't let you do that!
EDIE: No? Well, you can't stop me.
FATHER BARRY: You're not going down there alone!
EDIE: Then come with me.
FATHER BARRY: I just told you—there are certain rules ... I've got to think about it.
EDIE: Don't think too long. (takes coat from chair)
FATHER BARRY: Edie, wait a minute!
EDIE: I'm going, Father! (exits)
FATHER BARRY: Then dammit, I have to go with you! (exits)
An Active Pier
Crates and boxes are strewn around the pier.
REPORTER: (enters) The only way to do my job covering the waterfront is to blend in with the men—the hundreds of dockworkers who have to shape-up every four hours looking for a nod from the hiring boss—who's got the power of life and death over them—with at least four to five men shaping-up for every one picked. If I took out a notebook, or looked like a reporter, it'd be my last day on the job.
(Tommy and Runty enter)
MOOSE: Hey, what time did you get home?
TOMMY: What home?
LUKE: You was there all night?
RUNTY: I think I'm still there.
Excerpted from On the Waterfront by BUDD SCHULBERG WITH STAN SILVERMAN. Copyright © 2001 by Budd Schulberg and Stan Silverman. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Posted August 7, 2013