the heart of it. Ma and Pa. Tupelo and Memphis. Danny and the Colonel. 1967, 1947, 1937, 1927. And 1955.
AN INTERREGNUM
Music over a black screen. This Magic Moment -- Jay and The Americans
"And then it happened!" --
OUT ON THE ROAD LATE IN THE DAY - '67
The Cadillacs drive by fields of sorghum.
INSIDE THE FIRST CAR
RADIO
"Forever 'til the end of tiiiiimeee!!"
Danny's eyes are closed.
RADIO
"You'll have bad times, and he'll have good times doin things you don't understand.."
Danny looks up. Why is the radio all of a sudden Tammy Wynette when it was Jay and the Americans?
DANNY FISHER
Turn it off.
In front RED turns it off.
Now just air and engine and bugs. And Danny goes back to stoned sleep.
CUT TO:
TUPELO -- 20 YEARS AGO - '47
White shacks on rocks.
THE BOY walks down the makeshift road beside them. Hard white folk on tiny porches.
Many of them wave. He waves back. He's polite that way. He's a blonde little boy in overalls. Shoes full of holes, taking on mud; he doesn't seem to mind. All is fine.
Until it isn't: up the other side of the road come the CHURCH-GOERS. Returned in a crowd, twenty or thirty.
The Boy makes for an escape --
MUM
Danny!
He stops. Has to.
Coming out of the returning church crowd is HIS MOTHER, dark-eyed, pale, and sturdy.
Faster than she has any right to be she gets hold of his shirt, and whacks him on the head.
LIL' DANNY
Momma!
MUM
Where you been?!
LIL' DANNY
I was shick.
MUM
You better be dyin.
BACK AT TODAY - '67
Danny and the boys have pulled aside the road at a rickety Chicken Shack.
They are sitting at a wooden table out back of the pit stop. Before them a spread. I mean four buckets of fried chicken, (all dark meat), greens, cheesy pasta, corn muffins, biscuits, mustard slaw, hush puppies, cucumber salad, tater salad, watermelon pickles, barbecue pork spaghetti, corn pie, and glass bottles of Pepsi.
Fat Phil, Kid Jack, and Danny are eating. Red's smoking a cigarillo, watching Danny. Their eyes meet.
RED
Call the Colonel.
Nothing said for a time.
DANNY FISHER
I'm eatin.
KID JACK
Where'd you meet him?
DANNY FISHER
The Colonel?
(beat)
Where I met everybody, man -- the fairgrounds.
(gnaws a thigh bone)
He says, "Boy, I like you", I say, "I like you, sir", he says, "Boy, I want to help you.", I say, "That's mighty nice. ", he says, "I'm The Colonel.", I say, "Colonel? You don't say."
CUT TO:
TWENTY YEARS AGO AT A FAIRGROUND, '47
A big country fair. Just not the fair where Danny meets the Colonel.. not yet.
Bit mucky on account of some rain earlier in the day. But the kiddies don't seem to mind as they navigate around carnies and townies and piggies and moo-moos.
Games. And show people on makeshift stages. Animals auctioned in the distance.
And here comes Lil'Danny with his mother and father, VERRIL and GENEVA FISHER.
Verril seems more taken in by the scene than his young son who walks with both parents' hands clutched to his.
GENEVA FISHER
Where's the place?
VERRIL FISHER
I'm lookin.
GENEVA FISHER
We can't be late.
CUT TO:
THIRTY YEARS AGO AT A GARMENT FACTORY -- '37
In a DRAB OFFICE. Young Geneva Hinick, (who one day will be Geneva Fisher), sits erect in a folding chair. She is seventeen years old.
A secretary watches her with sad eyes.
All is quiet.
A HEAD MAN arrives. He's cigarette and fedora.
As he comes in the secretary is up and over with his newspaper and coffee.
The MAN glances over at the girl waiting outside his office.
GENEVA HINICK
Said in the paper you were hiring.
GARMENT BOSS
We were.
She is quiet, just for a moment.
GENEVA HINICK
Sir, I grown up on farms. I got seven brothers, Sir. I will work.
GARMENT BOSS
Where you live?
GENEVA HINICK
My family at the Mewlins.
GARMENT BOSS
Yer Daddy a tenant farmer?
GENEVA HINICK
He died this week. He were, yes.
GARMENT BOSS
How old are you?
GENEVA FISHER
I worked since I was seven.
The Boss considers her.
GARMENT BOSS
Twelve hours a day. Two dollars a day.
GENEVA HINICK
Yes'sir.
GARMENT BOSS
Startin today.
GENEVA HINICK
Yes'sir.
IN THE GARMENT FACTORY DAYS LATER
And Geneva Hinick is down with the grown women. It could be a labor camp. It's Tupelo.
OUTSIDE THE GARMENT FACTORY DAYS LATER
Geneva Hinick leaving work. Catching the bus with the rest.
THE MEWLINS FARM
Geneva Hinick walking the long road from where the bus has dropped her. The sun setting.
At the bottom-lands of Mewlin's farm, at dusk, she ENTERS the workhouse.
INSIDE Her mother, her younger sisters, her older brothers -- praying together at the supper table.
CUT TO:
BACK TO THE DANNY FISHER TODAY -- '67
That ridiculous chicken feast just about done away with. The boys are fat and sleepy, sitting at the picnic table.
Over at the Cadillac the painting is propped on the trunk, looking glorious in the late day shade.
DANNY FISHER
It weren't easy, but she was happy.
RED
They were happy.
DANNY FISHER
I'm talking about before. When we had nothin, she was happy.
(beat)
I know Daddy's happy.
(beat)
Now it's all a big bucket of chicken.
(beat)
Easy.
RED
You made it that way. That's a gift.
DANNY FISHER
I don't think she cared for it. She liked it in Tupelo.
CUT TO:
THE GARMENT FACTORY, MONTAGE OVER WEEKS -- '37
Geneva Hinick working. Leaving. Taking the bus back to the farm.
THEN A DAY AT THE GARMENT FACTORY MONTHS LATER
Geneva Hinick is walking home from the factory with her friend Lucille. They're sharing a cigarette.
They walk by the bus, and up the hill until the highway is below them.
Before them is..
OLD SALTILLO ROAD
And the grid of dirt paths off of it, cul-de-sacs littered with camps, tents, and rickety one-floor houses.
Folk milling about; it has the feel of a fairgrounds up here.
As Geneva and Lucille walk up one of the dusty lanes, revealed before them, at the end of the lane, is a tent where is housed The First Assembly of God Church. Folk are coming from all over Saltillo for the supper service.
LUCILLE
Don't be too long, Hun.
They part here. Lucille down to the church.
THE HINICK HOUSE -- MOMENTS LATER
Geneva ENTERS; a shack off Saltillo. Her family is here, around the table again; this is home now -- East Tupelo, up over the highway.
She goes to her mother, kisses her cheek, and hands over six dollars.
GENEVA'S MOTHER
Bring her plate.
GENEVA HINICK
That's awright, Mama. I'm goin to the church for supper.
THE CHURCH TENT LATER
We follow Geneva Hinick into the tent show of Saltillo's church. All white folk. Men standing. Women seated. Everyone smoking.
Lucille's held her a seat, waves her over.
ELLIPSIS
Now the Preacher is up, and he's full on working it -- He's Jesusing the Hell out of this tent.
Everyone is having a good time. They sing.
Geneva sings and claps. Lucille nudges her. Their eyes meet, and Lucille guides Geneva to look over yonder..
At one Verril Fisher, now just about seventeen years old, with a full head of black hair, and a long thin acne'd face. But handsome anyway.
He smiles at her.
LUCILLE
Oh dear.
LATER OUT ON SALTILLO
Lucille is walking back down away from the church tent, as the rest of Saltillo's residents file out. She's smiling.
As she walks on by revealed lagging behind is Geneva Hinick walking with young Verril Fisher.
VERRIL FISHER
You like church?
GENEVA HINICK
Uh huh.
VERRIL FISHER
You working tomorrow?
GENEVA HINICK
Yeah.
VERRIL FISHER
I could meet you in town after.
GENEVA HINICK
Ain't you workin tomorrow?
No words. But her eyes meet his.
VERRIL FISHER
I'm seeing you tomorrow.
A TRANSITORY FLASH!
Geneva and Verril and Lucille and Verril's brother, riding around drunk in a beat-up Plymouth.
Verril kisses her hair.
CUT TO:
DOWN BELOW OLD SALTILLO, NOW '47
And that little boy, that young Danny Fisher is down by the highway picking up sticks.
He walks along
MOMENTS LATER he's running up to the Saltillo shacks, to his home. The same one his mother had moved her family into some ten years before
He ENTERS. Geneva Fisher turns from the stove, and takes the sticks from her son. Into the stove they go. On the stove top what looks like weeds and a potato in a pot of water.
Lil'Danny sits obediently on a stool beside her work station.
LATER ON, AT THE GRAVE
Geneva Fisher walks her son out beyond the Saltillo shacks. The place has grown up a bit in ten years -- there's a market up here, and a gasoline station, and a small wooden church where once there had been a tent.
She walks her son further on. To a cemetery.
It is a small landing, and relatively new. These are found grave stones, very few have markings on them.
She takes Danny to the back corner of the lot, and it is there they kneel together by a dull lump of granite. A very small grave.
AND AFTER THAT, CHURCH
On the way home they stop at the church. As they disappear inside, the choir sings. The sun sets.
CUT TO:
IN THE DARK
A smash, a thud, and a yelp sound out of the darkness, and Lil'Danny's eyes snap open.
He's in bed.
He sneaks out. To the open door of the bedroom, he peeks.
There's his Daddy on the floor. Mother standing over him with a rolling pin in her hand.
NEXT MORNING'S BREAKFAST
Lil'Danny's eating mashed corn at the small table. His mother, Geneva Fisher, watches on silently, her eyes dull, impenetrable.
VERRIL FISHER
I got this for you.
A flimsy little Woolworth's acoustic guitar.
As the thing is handed over, reveal Verril, looking hung over, a big knot over his brow.
LIL' DANNY
Thank you, Daddy.
VERRIL FISHER
Yessir.
Beat.
GENEVA HINICK
He wanted a pop rifle.
Her eyes look right through her husband. He begs off the eye contact.
CUT TO:
BACK A LONG WAY, THE LONGEST
There's this little girl. And all around her are giant men. In a land of cotton.
Brothers. And father. And her. Picking under a pale sky.
CUT TO:
BACK AT THE CHICKEN DINNER TODAY -- '67
An OLD MAN closes up his Chicken Shack. Late in the day here on the side of this road.
Fat Phil and Kid Jack are still sitting on the picnic table where the long lunch had been.
A leisurely scan of the surrounding area reveals the old road, the two Cadillacs, the shack, and beyond, Danny Fisher descending the hillside, walking in waist high yellow weed that if not for the shimmering in the breeze would melt into the sky.
He follows a path his own, below him a desultory bivouac of work houses, an orchard abandoned of good trees, of fruit, of the pickers meant to camp out the season.
Danny ENTERS one of THE SHACKS
INSIDE
Empty. The floor is dirt. Bunks, no mattresses.
He kneels on the floor in the corner of the room.
He takes all his rings from his fingers, and places them in a neat line beside him on the ground.
He digs a hole with his hands.
The sunset through the doorway is a halo over him as he works.
Grouty top soil quick turns to sandy undercut.
When the hole is big enough Danny lays drug baggies to it. He reaches in pocket after pocket, and there is always one more little satchel of help.
Piled up like a bowl of jewels. And he buries them.
He gets to his feet. And walks out of the shack, into new night.
Forgetting his rings.
AT THE TOP OF THE HILL A BIT LATER
His guys wait on him.
RED
Let's go home.
Red touches Danny's shoulder, brotherly.
RED
Let's git.
The boys all make for the cars.
DANNY FISHER
I'll ride with the Kid.
Red looks back, but Danny's face is in the dark.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, IN THE CADILLAC
In the dark, Danny in back, Kid Jack driving.
DANNY FISHER
I'll tell you something about the Colonel..
(beat)
He's a Dutchmen.
KID JACK
The Colonel?
DANNY FISHER
Von. Falco Von-somethin. Von Falco's his real name.
KID JACK
I don't follow.
DANNY FISHER
Something happened back in his homeland. Something whereby he left them. His mother and father, his brothers. The Colonel, Mr. Falco -- shows up over here one day, and he's the Colonel. He's been the Colonel ever since.
KID JACK
Crazy..
DANNY FISHER
His family think he's dead.
RED
How do you know all this?
DANNY FISHER
He told me.
(beat)
He thought I was gonna fire him when I come back from Germany. I think he mighta kilt someone. And escaped. Came here, started over.
(beat)
Jack.
KID JACK
Yeah?
DANNY FISHER
Let the boys get ahead of us.
Jack watches the road, and coasts.
DANNY FISHER
Can you imagine it?
KID JACK
What?
DANNY FISHER
Lettin'm think you died?
Turn off right here.
Kid Jack does as told: they exit the main road on the right.
DANNY FISHER
Give it some.
Jack pumps the gas.
CUT TO:
THE FAIRGROUNDS TWENTY YEARS AGO -- '47
Amidst a standing crowd are Verril and Geneva Fisher under the late afternoon.
Performing for the fairgoers on a big wooden stage are three lovely LADIES doing a fine Andrews Sisters routine about boogeying bugle boys.
A drunken crowd of fairground hillbillies roar their approval at song end.
The HOST comes on stage.
HOST
The Cole Sisters! How bout that! Our next contestant is Little Danny Fisher from Tupelo! Come on up, son!
A petrified Lil'Danny walks stiffly on stage with the cruddy little guitar his Daddy gave him.
After warm applause, the crowd waits for the kid to cross to center stage. It gets quiet enough to hear his footsteps.
Danny stands at the edge of the stage. The crowd of bumpkins looks like all the world.
His mother waves. His father nods.
All them faces!
Well.. He sings his song:
LIL' DANNY
'When I was a lad, and old Shep was a pup over hills and meadows we'd stray. Just a boy and his dog, we were both full of fun. We grew up together that way.'
Crowd eyes and ears.
LIL' DANNY
'I remember the time at the old swimmin' hold, when I would have drowned beyond doubt. But old Shep was right there, to the rescue he came. He jumped in and then pulled me out.'
Down in the crowd Verril takes Geneva's hands. She leans against him.
LIL' DANNY
'As the years fast did roll old Shep he grew old. His eyes were fast growing dim. And one day the doctor looked at me and said I can do no more for him, Jim.'
At the back of the stage the Host watches on with the Cole Sisters.
HOST
There goes your blue ribbon, Girls.
LIL' DANNY
'With hands that were trembling, I picked up my gun, and aimed it at Shep's faithful head. I just couldn't do it I wanted to run I wish they would shoot me instead.
He came to my side, and looked up at me, and laid his old head on my knee.
I had struck the best friend that a man ever had, I cried so I scarcely could see.
Old Shep he has gone where the good doggies go, and no more with old Shep will I roam. But if dogs have a heaven there's one thing I know, Old Shep has a wonderful home.'
Quiet. And then a roar that is more a release than applause. Folk are wailing.
The boy watches on dazed -- incapable of understanding what he's done.
CUT TO:
The sound of the crowd would make one think this fairgrounds is the same fairgrounds, but we have sneakily advanced to:
THE MEMPHIS FAIR -- '55
The crowd is the same? No. Wailing, yes, but these are teenage girls. The Danny coming offstage is not a ten year old boy. This is a nineteen year old kid with greasy black hair and black clothes.
This Danny is the Danny the world is about to know.
And the man waiting in the wings, a rugged, red-faced man in a blue suit, is THE COLONEL.
Danny is flanked by his young friends, his bandmates -- everyone tee-heeing, and glad-handing.
The Colonel steps out.
THE COLONEL
Boy, I like you.
Danny looks over. He smirks.
DANNY FISHER
I like you, sir.
THE COLONEL
I want to help you.
DANNY FISHER
That's mighty nice.
The Colonel is smiling. Danny is smiling. No two smiles could mean such different things.
THE COLONEL
I'm the Colonel.
DANNY FISHER
You don't say.
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