The Sweet Science

 

a screenplay

by Bennett M. Cohen

 

based, in part, on "The Million Dollar Gate"

by Jack 'Doc' Kearns and Oscar Fraley

 

 

 

                                                                       

 

WGA Reg.                                                                                       

© Bennett M. Cohen 2002                                                  

All Rights Reserved.          

 

FADE IN:  

 

EXT. THE KLONDIKE - LATE WINTER, 1894, SUNSET  

 

We move across tundra through swirls of snow kicked up by the unmerciful arctic wind until we see the faint glow of:

 

EXT. SCAGWAY

 

We move into Scagway, spy a distant warehouse from which we hear faint crowd noise.  We move toward it on frozen dirt past squalid shacks, ramshackle saloons, dog sleds, debris.   

 

SUPERIMPOSE: THE KLONDIKE (Alaskan Frontier), 1894

 

The warehouse door opens as gold miners enter.  We hear shouts, cheers, jeers -- glimpse a distant boxing ring in which there appears to be 2 extremely rugged men fighting their hearts out.

 

We enter the warehouse, pass miners, barrels of provisions.  We near the ring, see its canvass - smatterings of mucus, saliva, blood.  We see the boxers' footwork, the crunching body shots by fists wrapped in cloth.  The boxers clinch.  We hear a YELP.

 

PULLBACK REVEALS the fighters, both bloodied, are mere children.  There is no referee in the ring. 

 

JACKIE McKERNAN, 12, skinny, pulls away, grips his bloody ear in exquisite pain.  Bull SAUNDERS, 15, muscular, spits out Jackie's blood and flesh.  Jackie, suddenly possessed, rushes him, batters him to the canvass, trips on top of him face-to-face, continues to punch.  Men rush in, pull him off.  

 

ANGLE ON Tex Rickard, mid-30's, tough Texan, a man of obvious importance, holding his fur coat, watching closely at ringside.  He sits with schneckman, 20's, short, wiry, brashly dressed, his assistant.  Rickard nods toward Jackie as if to ask, "Who's he?"  Schneckman shows Rickard a PAPER, points to a name.

 

INSERT ON PAPER: a list of a dozen fights, the last of which is "Bull SAUNDERS vs. Jackie McKernan."  Next to Bull Saunder's name is a notation "(19-0)"; next to Jackie McKernan's name is the notation "(no record)"; a PENCIL circles "Jackie McKernan."    

 

Rickard returns the pencil to Schneckman, pockets the list.  Rickard hands CASH to someone.  Others settle their bets. 

 

In the ring, Jackie is helped to his corner.  He arrives to find Rickard standing there, looking down at him.  In the b.g., we can barely spy Bull Saunders, still on the canvas, reaching toward Rickard as if to plead, "Don't abandon me!" 

 

Jackie stares into Rickard's eyes.  Rickard smiles warmly. 


EXT. street - later

 

Rickard drapes his coat over Jackie -- limping, weak, his ear bandaged. They walk to the town's biggest building over which is a sign, "Great Northern."  Rickard enters like he owns the place -- which he does. We see roulette wheels, poker tables, garish furnishings.  Jackie's puffy eyes open wide in wonderment.

 

SERIES OF DISSOLVING SHOTS:

 

* WEEK LATER: Rickard surveys his busy casino.  Jackie, his wounds healing, collects dirty dishes with a cheerful enthusiasm that attracts plenty of stares.  Rickard smiles at Schneckman. 

 

* WEEKS LATER: Jackie, a scar on his ear, nimbly shuffles in chips at a table.  He appears a perfect fit for this world.   

 

* WAREHOUSE, WEEKS LATER: Jackie, boxing with far more skill, wins handily.  He even has a following.  Rickard collects on his bets, smiles at Jackie.

 

* GREAT NORTHERN, WEEKS LATER: Rickard motions to Jackie, "Watch me."  Rickard takes a scale, pours gold dust onto it.  A fine cloud of gold dust rises.  He cups his hands, corrals the gold dust cloud back onto the scale, swishes a hand through his hair.

 

Rickard takes a tiny bit of grease, spreads it through Jackie's hair so it is undetectable, motions to Jackie to try.  Jackie pours gold dust on the scale, corrals the cloud with his hands, swishes a hand through his hair.  Rickard grabs a pail of water.

 

Rickard rinses Jackie's hair over a filter covering a pail.  He lifts the filter to the light, revealing a RESIDUE of sparkling gold dust.  Rickard unlocks a cubbard, pulls out a heavy sack of gold dust, brushes in the gold dust from the filter.  He winks.

 

* WEEKS LATER: Miners are lined up at the gold scale with bags of gold dust.  Jackie operates the scale like an old pro, swishing his hand through his hair each time.  At a brief lull in the action, Rickard passes Jackie, warmly pats his back.   

 

RICKARD

That's my boy.

 

Jackie looks at Rickard with admiration, even love, resumes his gold weighing with vigor -- until an elderly miner approaches.  Jackie stares into his weary eyes, hesitates.  Jackie spies Rickard in the corner looking away.  Jackie quickly pours the gold onto the scale, uses paper to corral the cloud of dust. 

 

ANGLE ON the EYES a few miners, keenly noting Jackie's change in routine.  Rickard, nothing escaping him, watches the suspicious miners watch Jackie -- knowing a potentially explosive situation when he sees it.  Rickard, alarmed, motions to Schneckman -- who then hurriedly brings the miners drinks to distract them.  

 

EXT. GREAT NORTHERN - NEXT DAY, DAWN

 

The front door opens.  A BOOT lifts Jackie into the air, lands him in the slushy filth.  He scrapes himself off the ground, stares at the building.  As the door closes, we glimpse the two Bouncers who put him there and Rickard, his fatherly arm around Bull Saunders.  Schneckman slips out a side door, hands Jackie a backpack and some cash, pats his back as if to say, "Good luck."   

 

Jackie walks off, fades from view as we DISSOLVE TO:

 

Ext. SAN FRANCISCO RAILWAY STATION - JULY, 1917, DAY

 

Roar and steam of TRAIN entering station.  The station platform overflows with American flags and red, white & blue banners. This is San Francisco during World War I.

 

SUPERIMPOSE: San Francisco, 1917

 

The train stops.  Passengers, including uniformed soldiers, disembark and joyously embrace their loved ones.  A band plays "Over There," the patriotic World War I song. 

 

ON Jack Kearns (the grown Jackie McKernan)

 

Lean, solid, dashing, now mid-30's, dressed in a fine gray suit, wearily disembarking.  We can barely still see the SCAR on his ear.  Kearns is met by ALLISON, late 20's, striking, his loyal girlfriend.  She hugs him dearly.  BILL BRADY, 50's, distinguished gentleman, Kearns' friend/sometimes advisor, restrains a REPORTER and Photographer trying to reach Kearns.   

 

Kearns walks with Allison and Brady to the cars where workmen are unloading cargo.  Workmen jerk on a handle. Kearns grimaces, hurries over to steady their pull.  A coffin slides into view. 

 

EXT. PIER, SAN FRANCISCO HARBOR - LATER

 

The coffin and other cargo sit by a sign: "Departs Melbourne, Australia."  Kearns, by the coffin, gives a letter a final look.

 

INSERT ON Letter: it commences "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,"

 

Kearns slips the letter and a CHECK in an envelope, hands it to the SHIP Captain -- who nods, "I understand."  Kearns wanders to a bench, removes a FLASK of WHISKEY from an inner coat pocket.

 

SAME SCENE - LATER, FROM DUSK TO DAWN

 

Kearns, alone with a flask of whiskey, watches the distant departing ship DISSOLVING TO Kearns still there at SUNRISE.

INT. BAR, WATERFRONT, SAN FRANCISCO - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

Kearns, unshaven, sits with Brady, eyes where ship disembarked.

 

BRADY

(consolingly)

... accept what life deals... and you go on.

 

KEARNS

Deals...?  It wasn't exactly an accident, Bill.  They intercepted his ship before it could even dock.  Took him off.

 

BRADY

They didn't intend for him to die. 

 

KEARNS

Tell that to Darcy's mother.

(beat; sincerely)

Hey... thanks for coming all the way out.  I mean it.

 

BRADY

Never mind that.  How you fixed for cash?

 

KEARNS

Fine.  This show coming up, I got 2 prelims, the main event. 

 

BRADY

(surprised)

Someone in place of Darcy?

(to Kearns' painful nod)

How is he?

 

KEARNS

Okay I guess.

 

BRADY

You guess...?

 

KEARNS

Haven't seen 'em since I returned.

 

BRADY

(alarmed; gently)

Jack, get yourself back to the gym.

(as Kearns nods, "I know")

No one's going to mess with you there.

INT. HUDSON'S GYM, SAN FRANCISCO - FEW DAYS LATER, day

 

The world of the small time fighter.  A dank, poorly lit gym where grunting, sweaty boxers -- watched by trainers, cutmen and managers -- hit heavy bags, jump rope, and spar.  HUDSON, 60's, an ex-pug, the owner, presides.  In the b.g. is a POSTER of JESS WILLARD on which is printed "WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION."

 

ANGLE ON Kearns, cleaned up and putting on a strong front as his old cheerful self, entering with Schneckman (from the Klondike), now mid-40's, graying, still brashly dressed.  Kearns spots his CUTMAN and MIDDLEWEIGHT FIGHTER, waves to them, moves that way.  Everyone Kearns greets along the way seems strangely reserved.  Hudson tries in vain to signal to Kearns, "In the back..." 

 

KEARNS

(to Schneckman)

What gives?

 

Schneckman nods, "No idea."  They reach the Cutman and Middle- weight, shake.  Kearns looks over his Middleweight.  He does not exactly exude confidence.  As the Cutman tries to signal Kearns:  

 

KEARNS

(gently; to Middleweight)

Hey, Jimmy, you look at a main event as if it's any other bout...

 

           SCHNECKMAN (intrpt'g)

That who I think it is? 

 

Schneckman's POV: 3 well-dressed men at the back of the gym. 

 

Kearns strains to see, freezes, mystified. 

 

ANGLE ON everyone turning to watch the anticipated fireworks.

 

ANGLE ON Kearns in the face of BILL GIBBS -- 1 of the 3 well-dressed men.  Gibbs, 40's, is the right-hand man of the world's premier sports promoter and ever conscious of his own power.  The other 2 men, Gibbs' bodyguards, watch closely.   

 

KEARNS

I thought you might at least give us a little time to bury our dead before you try again. 

 

GIBBS

Try again?

 

KEARNS

Problem right now, I just got no other fighter your boss'd wanna steal.  He oughta try elsewhere.


GIBBS

And you're who? 

 

KEARNS

(quietly, ominously)

Darcy was my fighter.  You stole 'em.  Now he's dead. 

 

GIBBS

Kearns...?  Kearns is it?  What makes ya think we're here for you?

(as Kearns understands)

That's right.  Managers want us.  Fighters want us.  They all call on us eventually.  The ones who wanna get anywhere.

 

As a couple of managers, ashamed, look away:

 

         GIBBS (cont'd)

You will, too.

 

KEARNS

Don't bet on it.

 

GIBBS

Well, you're right about one thing.  You got no other fighter my boss'd wanna steal.

 

Schneckman holds Kearns back.  Gibbs' Bodyguards move closer.

 

         GIBBS (cont'd)

But lemme help you out as long as I am here.  Try'n to break into the big leagues -- ever think you might be aiming just a little over your head?

 

Gibbs smirks, moves away with his Bodyguards. 

 

INT. CARNIVAL TENT, SAN FRANCISCO - MONTH LATER, DAY

 

As the crowd cheers fighters in the boxing ring, Kearns worriedly walks Schneckman toward the dressing room.     

 

SCHNECKMAN

The guy'll show.  Always has before.  He wouldn't think 'a not showing...  What if he doesn't show?

 

KEARNS

Just tell me the second he does. 


Int. dressing room

 

A pair of boxing gloves and hand wraps sit on a bench waiting to be worn.  Schneckman enters, opens an outside door, scans the streets in vain for their fighter.  He sits, fidgets nervously.

 

INT. TENT 

 

The worn, bloodied fighters exit the ring.  A Middleweight Boxer bounds into the ring.  He dances around, alone.  As Spectators begin to fidget, a tense Promoter approaches Kearns.

 

PROMOTER

Jack, where's my main event?

 

Kearns signals his Cutman back to the dressing room.

 

INT. DRESSING ROOM

 

The Cutman enters.  Schneckman shrugs, "He's not here either." 

 

INT. TENT

 

The Cutman whispers to Kearns.  Kearns grimaces, looks at crowd.

 

ANGLE ON the Middleweight's cornermen gesturing to the Promoter, "What's up?!"  A SECURITY GUARD (VIC) watches curiously.  Hudson, (the owner of the gym) watches with concern.  The Promoter, very edgy, appears at Kearns side. 

 

PROMOTER

Jack, the Darcy thing.  That was a tragedy.  We all thought so.  'Darcy gone, we could've called it off weeks ago.  I would've understood.  But you said, "No, no, no problem.  I'll get someone else.  I got someone else."  -- Jack, help me out.  I'm drownin' here, I'm goin' under.

 

Kearns scans the rowdy crowd, nervous Promoter, perplexed Boxer.  As paper, food and other garbage start flying into the ring and BOOS erupt, Kearns sees Schneckman look out of the dressing room.

 

KEARNS

You'll have your fighter.

 

SAME SCENE - LATER

 

Kearns exits the dressing room, his hands wrapped and wearing boxing trunks.  The Spectators hush.  The incredulous Promoter blocks Kearns' path to the ring. 


PROMOTER

Fifteen years since you've been in the ring!

 

KEARNS

Ten.  It's him I'd be worried about.

 

INT. kearns' BEDROOM, HOTEL, San FRANCISCO - LATER, night

 

ICE PACKS are removed to reveal Kearns' BATTERED FACE.  Allison puts ice to both eyes, both swollen closed.  He lies on the bed.

 

 KEARNS

I earned a draw, didn't I?

 

ALLISON

(slightly flirtatious)

If you say so.

 

KEARNS

What-a-ya mean, "If I say so??"  What the hell does that mean -  "If I say so?"

 

KNOCK ON DOOR before Allison can respond.

 

INT. KEARNS' FOYER

 

The ASST. Hotel MANAGER and a Security MAN glare at Allison. 

 

ALLISON

But you said tomorrow was okay.

 

ASST. MANAGER

I misspoke.  That's 4 full weeks today -- $36.  I'll wait here.

 

ALLISON

But you...

 

           ASST. MANAGER (intrpt'g)

$36.  I'll wait here.

 

INT. KEARNS' BEDROOM

 

Kearns empties his money onto the dresser -- $4.  Allison adds $5.  He pulls all drawers open, finds only "Rent Due" notices. 

 

ALLISON

What about all the fight purses?  The ones from Australia?

 

KEARNS

Ya know... that card game, aboard ship.  I told you.

 

ALLISON

But where's all the rest?!

 

KEARNS

(reluctantly, the truth)

Australia.  The family.

 

ALLISON

But that was your mon--...

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Not that it can make up for things...  But we're okay here 'cause...  See, here he comes.

 

Schneckman enters, hands Kearns a sack.  It is empty.

 

KEARNS

The whole purse...?!  Tell me he's not holding up the whole purse.

 

SCHNECKMAN

Sonovabitch promoter.  Wouldn't even talk about it...  Did we or did we not put on a show?

 

KEARNS

I believe I was there. 

 

SCHNECKMAN

Practically damn near back to form.  That's where you were. 

 

KEARNS

The old form.

 

SCHNECKMAN

Stickin' that jab, left hook a hummin...

 

As Allison rolls her eyes:

 

                  ASST. MANAGER (o.s., intrpt'g)

Miss.  Miss!  I'm still waiting.

 

ALLISON

Brady's got cash.

 

KEARNS

He left for New York.

SCHNECKMAN

(beat; secretively)

Jack, we know where the purse is. 

I got a guy 'can crack anything...  

 

Allison eyes Schneckman and Kearns.  Kearns gestures, "No." Schneckman empties his wallet.  All he finds is $3.

 

        ASST. MANAGER (o.s.)

Miss.  For the last time...

 

SCHNECKMAN

Hell, this is nothin'.  The things we've done, spots we've been in.  All we've overcome.

 

INT. KEARNS' NEW BEDROOM, BOARDING HOUSE - later, night 

 

A dilapidated room.  Kearns and Allison sit on a creaking bed. 

 

KEARNS

Hey, a few thousand years ago, this'd be going first class.

 

As a pane of glass falls and shatters at the foot of the bed:

 

ALLISON

Lovely.

 

KEARNS

Not without charm.

 

ALLISON

You got a little charm left yourself, ya know.  Sort of...

 

KEARNS

Sort of?

 

She grabs a chunk of his hair.  They kiss, lie down.  But Kearns' interest soon lags.  He rises, anguished. 

 

KEARNS

How do you tell the parents of a kid you convinced to leave his country, who you vowed to take care of...?

 

ALLISON

(rises, hugs him)

Just as you put in your letter... You can't blame yourself.

 

KEARNS

Allison, I can't do it anymore.  I gotta get out.

 

ALLISON

Jack...?  You're not...  Jack, this is your life!

 

KEARNS

Yeah, my life.  Look at it.  Forget about I can't put a roof over my head, breakfast on the table...  Harry Wills, the leading heavyweight contender.  I had him, can't move him...

 

ALLISON

That's because...

          

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

It doesn't matter why.  Who cares why.  You either do or you don't...  Les Darcy, sweetest kid.  And I convince him to come here.  To the "promised land."

 

ALLISON

But Jack...

 

KEARNS

It's no good.  The bucket's gone dry.  I gotta get out.

 

INT. BOXING GYM, SAN FRANCISCO - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

A photograph of Darcy inscribed "To Jack and our everlasting friendship" is removed from the wall.  Kearns pockets it.  Kearns and Allison look at his belongings -- all packed to go.

 

KEARNS

Fact is, I just couldn't lose another fighter.  No, I'm out.

 

INT. Restaurant, SAN FRANCISCO - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

Kearns, dressed in the formal white suit of an Assistant Maitre De, scans the restaurant, feigns great interest.  The Restauranteur speaks, his enthusiasm oppressive.

 

Restauranteur

See now we got the Nob Hillers and the theater-goers.  With you com- ing on board, we get the sports

crowd - which, of course, attracts

         Restauranteur (cont'd)

everyone else. I'll run the day to day.  You just stick around, learn the ropes.  You'll pick it up...

(snapping fingers)

like "that."   

 

KEARNS

(eyes glazing over)

Count on it.

 

Restauranteur

(indicating)

We'll have you start with Vincent... 

 

KEARNS POV: VINCENT, the Maitre De, obsequiously pulls out chairs for patrician LADIES, practically bows to the floor.

 

Kearns winces at the thought.  

 

         Restauranteur (cont'd)

And all's straight at the hotel. 

 

KEARNS

You didn't have to... 

 

He again surprises Kearns by handing him cash bound by a string.

 

          Restauranteur (intrpt'g)

And here's an advance.  I tell ya, Jack, you've made the right

choice.  You have a real future here.  This is your type'a place. 

 

INT. WHITE'S SALOON, OAKLAND WATERFRONT - LATER, DUSK

 

Maybe the toughest bar anywhere.  The sign "White's Saloon" hangs prominently.  Kearns, totally out of place in his white suit amongst cowboys, pirates, and other barb-wired characters, leans against the bar with a whiskey, mutters to himself: 

 

KEARNS

This is my type'a place.

 

At a table sit five large, rugged-looking MEN.  One of them, the Security Guard (Vic) from the boxing tent, spots Kearns.  He stares, whispers to Man No. 1 and 2, approaches Kearns.

 

GUARD

Quite a show last month.

 

Kearns recognizes him, senses his intentions, turns away.

 

KEARNS

Glad you liked it. 

 

GUARD

'Cept you could'a used a fighter.

 

KEARNS

You noticed? 

 

GUARD

Noticed, yeah.  I'm stuck there working security. 

(to look of surprise)

You should'a took me to Australia with the rest 'a the guys. 

 

KEARNS

Not now.

 

GUARD

If not the first trip, then why not the second?

 

The Guard crowds him.  Patrons begin to take notice.

 

         GUARD (cont'd)

Man's got ability, someone in your position oughta see it.  

 

KEARNS

Well taken. 

 

Kearns moves away.  The Guard follows, calling loudly.

 

GUARD

You're not being rude, are you?

 

CACKLES from the Guard's table fortify the Guard's resolve.  He grabs Kearns' jacket at the pocket.  More patrons look. 

 

ANGLE on YOUNG MAN, 21, just over 6', sinewy, borderline emaciated, wearing tattered, fraying clothes, a "down and outer" even there.  He sits alone.  He hears the racket, looks up.

 

ANGLE ON Kearns pulling away, peeking into his pocket at the Darcy PHOTOGRAPH, now torn.  The Guard spies it. 

 

         GUARD (cont'd)

Talk about a "bust."  Bet ya even Rosa here could'a put 'em down for the count. 

 

The Guard reaches for ROSA, a prostitute, grabs her ass. 

 

         GUARD (cont'd)

And I hear he went with that other guy instead.

 

KEARNS

(beat; calmly, softly)

The reason I didn't ask you to Australia was not just 'cause 'a your attitude - which, between me and you, could use a little work.

Reason is: you couldn't lick my grandma if they tied her down 'n gave you an axe.

 

GUARD

Izzat so?!

 

MAN #1

Brain 'em, Vic.

 

MAN #2

Just don't scuff the man's suit.

 

KEARNS

(toward Man #2)

Girlfriend, Vic?

 

The Guard throws his drink at Kearns.  Kearns floors him.

 

ANGLE ON the Young Man watching the commotion with only passing interest.  Then his eyes widen -- at first with deep offense at the unfairness of what he sees, then genuine concern.  

 

ANGLE on Kearns beset by all four Men from the Guard's table, taking an horrific beating.  Suddenly, the blows all stop.

 

As we HEAR crashing/havoc, Kearns, groggily, tries to see. 

 

KEARNS' POV (blurry) of all assailants lying unconscious; astonished patrons part to allow Kearns' "rescuer" to exit. 

 

Kearns, amazed, out of breath, tries to call to him, but cannot. 

 

EXT. WHITE'S SALOON

 

Kearns staggers out, urgently scans the street.  Finally, the Young Man looks back. Kearns, not even sure he's the one, calls.

 

KEARNS

You can't just leave like that! 

 

Kearns stumbles to the Young Man, notes his bloody knuckles.

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Least you could do is let me buy you a drink!!

 

Kearns' insistence forces the Young Man to smile. 

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

I don't even know your name.

 

         Young Man (DEMPSEY)

(bashfully)

Dempsey.  Harry Dempsey, but my friends call me "Jack." 

 

INT. RESTAURANT, Oakland - Later

 

EMPTY PLATES surround Dempsey.  Kearns holds ice to his very swollen eye, studies Dempsey. 

 

KEARNS

Ya did some fightin' Jack Dempsey?

 

DEMPSEY

How'd you know? 

 

KEARNS

This a serious question? 

 

Dempsey shrugs "Sure."  Kearns smiles, motions to a waiter.

 

SAME SCENE - LATER

 

Empty plates, twice as high, surround Dempsey.  

 

KEARNS

I mean, ever think of giving it another try?

 

DEMPSEY

No.

 

KEARNS

A last try?  One last try?

 

Dempsey hesitates, lifts his shirt, shows his discolored ribs.

 

DEMPSEY

I hadn't finished.  These other ribs get busted in my last fight. 

Then my manager takes off with the purse. No worse than the others... Got married this year.  Now all I

want's a decent job...  No one can say I didn't give it my best shot.

KEARNS

Jack, I'm not like those guys.  And no way I'd put ya against anyone till ya had a chance to work out, get into shape.  

 

DEMPSEY

The Seattle job - shipyard - pays 25 a week, take home...

 

KEARNS

But till then...?

 

 DEMPSEY

Starts next week and looks to be steady.  How can I pass that up? 

 

KEARNS

What about the war?

 

DEMPSEY

I think about that a lot. 

 

KEARNS

(thinking aloud)

With a military shipyard job, the draft board may just leave ya be.

 

DEMPSEY

That's not it!  I'd go.  I thought 'a joinin' up.  Think about it all the time...  But I got a brother who's crippled, my mom, all my sisters.  If I go, whose gonna look out for them? There's just no one else...  Then there's Maxine.

 

EXT. DECK OF ferry, san francisco bay - LATER, NIGHT

 

They silently ride the ferry to the dock.  About to disembark, Kearns suddenly stops Dempsey, looks him in the eye: 

 

KEARNS

All I'm saying is this: 23 years in the game, I've seen a lot.  And you got that "something." 

Something ya can't explain or teach.  But I know it when I see it, and ya hardly ever do.  And I

look out for my fighters, 'cause I've been there.  And I know how to get you where you need to go.

 

DEMPSEY

(entranced; then)

I believe you.  But I'm out. 

 

EXT. Street entering railway station, SAN FRANCISCO - LATER

 

Kearns reads an address scribbled on some scrap paper.

 

Dempsey

(indicating address)

Just be there a day, see Maxine.  Then Seattle, full steam ahead.   

 

KEARNS

(pockets scrap paper; beat)

You got the fare?

 

DEMPSEY

Sure.

 

An obvious lie.  Kearns forces string-bound cash into his hand.

 

         DEMPSEY (cont'd)

No.  I couldn't... I, I...

 

KEARNS

Take it!

 

Dempsey mouths "Thank you."  They shake.  Dempsey walks off.

 

EXT. RAILWAY STATION

 

Dempsey, at the ticket booth, looks at the cash, hesitates.  Customers take his place, buy tickets, rush onto the train. 

 

      ENGINEER (v.o.)

All aboard that's coming aboard.

 

As the train creeps forward, Dempsey emerges from behind a pillar, nimbly swings his BODY onto the brake rod underneath the train.  He tightens his hood over his eyes, braces himself, holds on -- as if this is all old hat.  As the train accelerates, he is obscured by a torrent of dust.

 

INT. FOYER, BROTHEL, SALT LAKE CITY - FEW dayS LATER, NIGHT

 

The Madame looks up, pleasantly surprised, smiles. Dempsey smiles, goes to a nearby door -- is about to knock when:   

 

MADAME

Oh Jack!  Better wait.

 

Dempsey sits.  Moments later, the door opens.  A Man, fixing his tie, exits.  Dempsey looks away stoically till he passes.   


Dempsey waits.  The door opens.  He stands in anticipation.   MAXINE Dempsey, 35, sexy, emerges in a teddy.  She sees him, smiles -- but without any excess of enthusiasm.

 

INT. MAXINE'S Living quarters, BROTHEL

 

Dempsey sees an ENVELOPE addressed to him on the table, opens it.

 

insert on Portion of letter: "... look back at the end of your life with no regrets.  The dream can still be yours."  and (turning letter), "Always your friend.  Jack Kearns."

 

Dempsey deposits the string-bound cash on the dresser.  Maxine, very pleasantly surprised, gazes at him.  He nods at the cash.   

 

DEMPSEY

Half I wanna send to my mom.

 

MAXINE

I'll take care of it.

(kisses him)

My own champion. 

(as he breaths with life)

Home at last.

 

INT. POST OFFICE, SALT LAKE CITY - FEW DAYS LATER, DAY

 

CLOSE ON the string-bound cash.  We see it totalS $60; we see a LETTER beginning "Dear Mom" and signed "Love Jack."

 

PULLBACK REVEALS Maxine, conflicted, staring at the cash.  She grabs the letter, erases "$30," changeS it to "$20"; she pockets $40, inserts $20 and the altered letter in envelope, mails it.

 

INT. GOLDEN FIELD RACEWAY, OWNER'S BOOTH - FEW DAYS LATER, DAY

 

Through a large glass window, we see HORSES below racing past the finish line.  As the CHEERING subsides, the TRACK OWNER looks at Kearns, his interest only vaguely piqued.

 

KEARNS

Tell me where else you can buy this kind of publicity? 

(getting no response)

Front row ring side seats, I'll

throw them in, too.  The kingdom of the J.P. Morgans, the Gettys, the Fords.  You will meet them all...  How bad would it be if one of 'em had a thing for the races?

 

The Owner thinks it through, finally writes a check.  Kearns takes the check, pockets it, furtively sighs in relief.

OWNER

Why hasn't the kid already signed?

 

KEARNS

He hasn't yet realized he wants it.

 

SEQUENCE: Kearns and Schneckman searching in vain for Dempsey in a Seattle shipyard then in bars, on streets, in back alleys.

 

EXT. Maxine's BROTHEL - FEW weeks later, DAY

 

Kearns and Schneckman stare at the porch where Prostitutes lounge.  Kearns re-examines the ADDRESS on the scrap paper. 

 

INT. BEDRoom, Brothel - later

 

Kearns sits on the bed, Schneckman in a chair.  The lights are low.  Incense burns.  Maxine enters in a teddy, looks at Kearns.

 

MAXINE

Hey champ.

(now seeing Schneckman)

Fellas... okay, two on one'll cost ya.  What'd ya have in mind?

 

KEARNS

(beat)

Maxine.  Delighted to meet you.  I'm Jack Kearns... Schneckman.  We're friends of your husband.

 

SCHNECKMAN

Nice, eh... place.

 

MAXINE

(flatly; to Kearns)

So?

 

KEARNS

I wonder if he got my letters. 

 

MAXINE

(realizing; opens

door, calls)

Dawn, send in the next.

 

She nods for them to leave.  Kearns hands her cash, stays put.  

 

         MAXINE (cont'd)

He's out for good.  I know.  He promised...  Take him away from steady work.  I don't think so. 


KEARNS

Well I don't wanna worry you but Jack's not even in Seattle.

 

MAXINE

(opening door wider)

He knows how to make himself scarce if he wants.  Last thing he needs is one more perfumed street barker.

 

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO RAILWAY STATION - NEXT Day, Dusk

 

Kearns and Schneckman disembark the train, scan the vast railway yard -- stare at 100's of ancient boxcars, scattered campfires.

 

SCHNECKMAN

You yourself said it had to be his decision.

 

KEARNS

Somehow I think he's made it.

 

EXT. SAN FRANCISCO RAILWAY YARDS - DUSK to NIGHT

 

Kearns scrutinizes hobos around countless campfires and boxcars.  The last campfire.  Kearns freezes, locks eyes with Dempsey.   

 

DEMPSEY

Coffee?

 

Kearns nods, sits.  Together they sip some coffee, then:

 

         DEMPSEY (cont'd)

Ya never told me ya managed

Harry Wills.  And how could you

not mention Les Darcy?

 

KEARNS

(concealing pain)

You're supposed to make small talk, then launch into business...

I didn't think it would help.

 

DEMPSEY

I'm not in their class.  Nowhere close.

 

KEARNS

That's why I'm here.

 

DEMPSEY

You believe in miracles?

 

KEARNS

I believe in the possible.  I've just never felt bound by how others define it.

 

DEMPSEY

(beat; gingerly)

Did it really happen the way they say -- Darcy?

 

KEARNS

Let's talk about the future. 

 

           DEMPSEY (intrpt'g)

Wait.  If I'm gonna work with you, I mean, I have to know...  He was your last fighter.

 

A fair question.  Kearns realizes he must answer it.  Long beat.

 

KEARNS

I was at the dock early.  With security.  His freighter arrives.  I race aboard.  The captain says, "Yes, Mr. Kearns, your people were here.  From the tug.  Darcy just left."  I never sent anyone. 

 

DEMPSEY

But you catch up to him?

 

KEARNS

They're movin' him around.  This point I couldn't get close... His American debut gets scheduled.  Ticket sales through the roof.  Then the influenza.  Les survives, barely.  And any manager worth a damn pulls him out of the bout.  Not this guy -- guy on their payroll, the one they assigned.    

 

DEMPSEY

But then you catch up to him?

 

KEARNS

This point I couldn't get close.

Security everywhere... Darcy takes those blows to the head.  Far too many.  In and out of consciousness for weeks, of no use to them.  Then I get close...  I bring in the best doctors money can buy...

 

DEMPSEY

Why'd he go with them anyway?

 

KEARNS

What would you have done?!  A scared kid.  12 thousand miles from home.  God knows what they told him.  This would never happen again.  And that's about all I'm gonna say.

 

HOLD ON Dempsey studying Kearns, seeing that Kearns, through his rough exterior, really cared.  Dempsey nods, "Okay."

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

The way I work, like I said when we met, is everything 50/50.  Right down the middle. 

 

DEMPSEY

That's high.

 

KEARNS

I'm worth it.  And if things start lookin' good, I'd handle no one else.  We'd be partners...

Ya want more time to think it over?  It'll still be there.

 

Dempsey thinks, extends his hand. Their hands join.  They shake.  

 

DEMPSEY

Don't we sign a contract?

 

KEARNS

We just did.

 

DEMPSEY

(peers into

eyes; relaxes)

Ought'a give it one last try.

 

INT. lobby, Kearns' Hotel - later, night

 

Asst. Manager aghast at the ragged Dempsey entering with Kearns.

 

KEARNS

But first things first. 

 

INT. Kearns' Hotel room

 

Clean shirts spread on the bed.  Dempsey picks the plainest one.


INT. ALLISON'S APARTMENT, KITCHEN - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

Allison enters with a huge pot of stew.  Dempsey -- clean shaven and in clean clothes -- is served what seems most all of it. 

 

ALLISON

His mother passed on when he was, oh, 12, 13.  His father was always away, never home.  'Fact, he hardly knew him...  But he must like you because he's been

much less grouchy since you joined him.

 

Kearns enters.  Allison piles food on his plate.

 

KEARNS

(grouchily)

Easy.  'Nough already.

 

ALLISON

(joking; to Dempsey)

I take that back.

 

Dempsey smiles.  She exits.  Kearns removes food from both his plate and Dempsey's, dumps it back into the serving bowls.

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Gain it back slow, gain it back right...

 

Dempsey

(playfully)

You're the doctor.

 

KEARNS

And when you do, I'll introduce you to... 

 

INT. BOXING GYM, SAN FRANCISCO - MONTH LATER, DAY

 

        KEARNS (v.o.)

... your new roommate, Teddy Hayes.

 

Dempsey shakes hands with Teddy Hayes, lean, late 20's.

 

                KEARNS (v.o., cont'd)

When Teddy's not off running, swimming, rowing, scaling rocks -- he's the best trainer in America.

 

HAYES

Be a piece 'a cake.


MONTAGE of DEMPSEY, with Hayes, performing the activities Kearns describes above; at first, Dempsey, ready to drop, is woefully unable to maintain Hayes' grueling pace, but he gradually becomes Hayes' equal, and then surpasses him -- DISSOLVING TO Dempsey, under Hayes' and Kearns' gaze:

 

     * awkwardly throwing a baseball with his left arm;

     * throwing a fluid left hook at a pad held by Hayes;

     * parrying punches of fighters with contrasting styles;

     * sparring in a small hall before a bunch of KIDS;

     * boxing in a warehouse before several dozen spectators.

 

INT. WAREHOUSE WHERE BOXING JUST OCCURRED - LATER

 

We HEAR piano music, simple, sweetly played.  Kearns exits the dressing room, watches, astonished to see Dempsey at the piano. 

 

DEMPSEY

My mom.  She picked up this piano in a junk yard.  Figured why not, it had at least half the keys...  She was always trying to get us to see the good in something. 

 

KEARNS

Eh, right...  Jack, I told Curly we'd be by.

 

DEMPSEY

Oh.  Sure.

 

EXT. CURLY'S TAILOR SHOP, SAN FRANCISCO - LATER

 

As they exit, Kearns points at Dempsey's buttoned-up new jacket. 

 

KEARNS

Fashion world would have fits.

 

DEMPSEY

(unbuttons jacket, grins)

Wouldn't want to offend them.

 

KEARNS

Never.  But that's the point I'm trying to make.  You look better...

 

As a PEDESTRIAN inadvertently steps in front of Dempsey:

 

           PEDESTRIAN (intrpt'g)

'Scuse me, sir.

 

KEARNS

... you feel better.  And no, I didn't plan that.

EXT. STREET TOWARD WATERFRONT, SAN FRANCISCO - LATER

 

Kearns and Dempsey, in their new clothes, stroll.

 

KEARNS

Because respect -- isn't that what it's all about?  I think that once

a guy gets a roof over his head, that's what drives him.

 

EXT. WATERFRONT, SAN FRANCISCO - LATER, EVENING

 

Kearns, very subdued, speaks to a captivated Dempsey.

 

KEARNS

I had a roof over my head.  He was so good to me.  We talked all the time.  I learned cards, the tables.  We went out prospecting.  I'd never known anyone like him.  But when I gave the oldtimer a break at the gold scale, I was out.  That was it.

 

Dempsey

Ya couldn't expect, ya know, he'd...

 

KEARNS

How was I to know the ways of the world...?  So I vowed to forget him forever.  But then he gave me a reason to remember.

(to Dempsey's worried look)

Don't worry, Kid, there's a lot 'a ways we can go.  And we're going places.  One way or the other. 

 

INT. LOBBY, KEARNS' HOTEL - FEW WEEKS LATER, DAY

 

Luggage is piled high.  As Kearns enters with Brady and Hudson:

 

BRADY

But Jack, he's just some guy you met in a bar...  I tell you, it'd be Harry Wills all over again, but this time with no excuse...  Look, I'm here for the whole week.  Let's talk about it.

 

They walk behind a lobby pillar.  As they reappear:

 

HUDSON

And suppose you could match him against Jess Willard.  You'd be


         HUDSON (cont'd)

tried for accessory to murder! And how you gonna get Jess' attention in the first place? 

 

As they exit the lobby, Kearns spies Dempsey, immobile on a staircase -- having overheard everything. 

 

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE HOTEL

 

Dempsey nervously helps a Bellman load a taxi. Kearns appears.  As Dempsey shivers, Kearns takes him aside, puts arm around him.

 

KEARNS

You're somethin' special, Kid.  Never forget that.  And you know it somewhere, or ya wouldn't be doin' this...  One last try, take no prisoners -- ya with me?      

 

They shake.  Allison arrives.  Warm embraces.  Kearns, Dempsey then Schneckman hop into the taxi.  They depart.                                                              

 

EXT. STREET, DENVER - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

ON Jess WILLARD

 

30's, 6'7", 275 lbs., exiting a building with a Bodyguard.

 

Kearns appears at Willard's side, pretends to be surprised.

 

KEARNS

Jess??  Jess!

 

Willard sees him, grimaces "Oh, no!"  Kearns follows. 

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

What'r ya doing here?

 

ANGLE ON Schneckman holding CAMERA/TRIPOD, watching calmly, con- cealed by building; Dempsey with him, astonished, heart racing. 

 

ANGLE ON Willard speeding up.  The Bodyguard looks to Willard for a command.  Kearns brazenly steps between them, talks fast.

 

        KEARNS (cont'd)

Isn't it somethin' the way things work out?  You're here; I'm here.  In fact, not till the other day at the feed store did I realize.  Think about it: the heavyweight champion of the world is either

the toughest man on earth or there's a damn good chance he is.

WILLARD

(to himself)

Hmm... yeah.  'Like that...

 

The Bodyguard, confused, eases back.  Kearns moves closer.

 

KEARNS

The very thought.  I mean, it does something to people.  I donno why.  'Have to ask an ex-pert.  But you see it every day.  Like back at the feed store.  The guy says, "Jess Willard, farm boy to heavyweight champ."  The other guy says, "the greatest fighter today." -- "Forget today," another guy says. "Greatest of the era." -- "Forget era," another guy says.  "Greatest of all time!"  This goes on and on.  Because this is the legend of the heavyweight champ, which has be-come the legend of Jess Willard. 

 

Willard eyes Kearns suspiciously.  The Bodyguard nudges Willard.

 

BODYGUARD

Now?

 

KEARNS

(talking faster)

Then there's the public.  They gotta count for somethin' Jess,

'cause that's what it's all about.  And now, it's the public, your public, crying out for the legendary Jess Willard to climb through the ropes just one more time, back into the rin--...

 

           WILLARD (intrpt'g)

No! 

 

KEARNS

Hear me out, just hear me out!

 

Willard turns sharply.  Kearns looks back, flashes the "O.K." sign to Dempsey who, following 100 feet behind, watches utterly amazed.  Schneckman concealed nearby -- is surprised by nothing. 

 

EXT. ANOTHER DENVER STREET 

 

Kearns sticks to Willard.  Willard nods to his Bodyguard to do something.  He tries, but Kearns is just too agile. 


KEARNS

But you're practically twice the man's size.  And it'd be your

biggest guarantee.  I mean what

else do you want?!  Hey, you wanna meet 'em? 

(waves to Dempsey)

Come'ere champ.

 

Willard, curious, stops.  Dempsey walks over awkwardly with an outstretched hand.  Willard smirks, never raises his hand.  

 

WILLARD

Least this one ain't colored. 

 

KEARNS

Yeah...  That's right.  See, there ya go.

 

Dempsey, embarrassed, lowers his hand.  As Willard moves away:

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

The man who "took back" the title from Jack Johnson.  Took it back.  The hope.  The great white ho--...

 

          WILLARD (intrpt'g)

I fight no one till the war's over!

 

KEARNS

Yes. 

 

WILLARD

And it'll be someone worthy of the privilege.

 

KEARNS

'Course.

 

Willard nods. The Bodyguard moves in.  Kearns deftly side-steps.    

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

But promise us the first shot when you're ready. 

 

WILLARD

(obviously not serious)

Sure.  Spare you just 'nough time to scrape "Mr. Champ" off the mat. 

 

Willard, pleased with his "comeback," is allowed to escape.

 

KEARNS

We did it!

DEMPSEY

Did what?

 

INT. REPORTER'S OFFICE, DENVER POST - NEXT DAY, DAY

 

CLOSE-UP OF PHOTOGRAPH: Dempsey with his outstretched hand and Willard smirking -- but his smirk looking like a normal smile.

 

OTTO FLOTO, reporter, 40's, holds the photograph, peers over the clutter at Kearns, Dempsey, and Schneckman. 

 

FLOTO

No.  I said no.

 

KEARNS

But you...

 

           FLOTO (intrpt'g)

I'd like to... but no, I can't.

 

KEARNS

But you...

 

           FLOTO (intrpt'g)

How can I, Jack?!

 

KEARNS

'Cause you promised.  That's how.

 

FLOTO

(pause, sighing)

Till when do I hold up the story?

 

KEARNS

See, we have a plan.  A program.

 

FLOTO

Okay, till when?

 

KEARNS

Till we hit Chicago.  Then you, only you, get the inside scoop.

 

FLOTO

(eyes photo; shakes head)

Please, Jack!  I can't sit on it.  It's just too big. 

(getting no response)

I'll even put in about the proceeds for the bout going to war relief so the boys overseas

can benefit -- like you said.

 

Dempsey shoots Kearns an astonished look.  Schneckman smiles slightly.  Kearns rubs his chin, now appearing unsure.  Floto takes note, sure he is gaining ground.

 

         FLOTO (cont'd)

Too big Jack.  It's just too big. 

 

INT. HOTEL LOBBY, CHICAGO - WEEK LATER, LATE NIGHT

 

A bright, luxurious lobby.  Kearns hands a Bellhop an enormous tip, strides to the front desk.  Dempsey wanders to a newsstand, picks up NEWSpaper, freezes -- tries in vain to call to Kearns.

 

INT. HOTEL BANQUET ROOM - NEXT DAY, DAY

 

ON NEWSPAPER HEADLINE: "Jess WILLARD to defend title against unknown."  The Dempsey/Willard photograph is below it.

 

A reporter puts down the newspaper, looks at Kearns and Dempsey on the dais.  The room overflows with Reporters. 

 

KEARNS

What I'm saying, the bet I am placing is 10 grand to even money: Dempsey licks any 2 heavyweights alive, one after the other.

 

REPORTER #2

On the same night?!

 

Kearns taps the mike as if it might be broken.  Laughter.

 

REPORTER #3

And that includes Willard? 

 

KEARNS

We'd only get the title sooner. 

Talk to your publishers.  You know where to find me.

 

Din of discussion.  Dempsey worriedly whispers to Kearns. 

 

DEMPSEY

I'll fight two guys if you say, but where we gonna get 10 grand?

 

KEARNS

No one's got ten grand.  We'll crash the headlines.  Get us a real quick fight.

(beat; to Reporters)

Now if there's nothing further, Chicago's finest caterer awaits us. 


INT. HOTEL RECEPTION ROOM

 

Champagne and food abound.  A band plays.  A reception line extends to Kearns and Dempsey.  Reporters surround Dempsey.

 

REPORTER No. 1

What'd you say to get him to agree?

 

DEMPSEY

Well, I...

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Hardly nothin'.  Jess knows that a champion's gotta make a champion's appearance.

 

GASPS are heard as Jess Willard appears from nowhere, towering over everyone.  He marches right up to Kearns. 

 

WILLARD

Yur newsPAPER story'S a pack'a lies! 

 

Dead silence.  Everyone stares.  Kearns tries to feign calm.

 

KEARNS

I like to take a man at his word.

 

WILLARD

Whatever I said was to get you out'a my hair. 

 

KEARNS

Really?  Or is this what they call in the business, "Having second thoughts?"

 

WILLARD

Get me legal immunity -- I'll consider it. 

 

KEARNS

How long you work on that one?  Ya up all night?

 

WILLARD

You little...  

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Just might take the title myself. 

 

Kearns, his chin in Willard's chest, pushes Willard (who does not budge).  TWENTY men intervene, separate them.  Dempsey, mortified, steers Kearns away -- toward another room. 

 

DEMPSEY

(to Kearns; innocently)

This happen a lot?

 

ANGLE ON Willard smirking as if victorious, then:

 

        SCHNECKMAN (v.o.)

Mr. Willard, sir!  Just answer this: if Dempsey's not a worthy adversary, why are you here?

 

WILLARD's POV: Schneckman "disguised" as a reporter. 

 

REPORTER #1

What-a-ya say, Jess? 

 

WILLARD

(feeling stares)

He started a nobody.  He'll stay a nobody.  And he'll never get near my title.

 

INT. KEARNS' HOTEL SUITE - LATER, DAY

 

Kearns, Dempsey and Schneckman sit silently by the phone. 

 

DEMPSEY

Doc, you couldn't've known Willard was gonna show.  Whatever happens, I wanna thank you for everyth--...

 

Schneckman puts his finger to his mouth, "Shussh, Not now."  Dempsey hesitates, whispers to Schneckman. 

 

DEMPSEY

How we gonna pay for all this?

I mean -- we're not gonna be arrested or anything??

 

Schneckman puts his finger to his mouth, "Shussh, Not now." 

 

SAME SCENE - later, NIGHT

 

Kearns, Dempsey and Schneckman have not moved.  They continue to stare at the phone.  It rings.  Finally, Kearns answers.

 

KEARNS

Sure Jim, I remember you ... Believe that?  And that bastard Willard was supposed to join us for the announcement.

 

Dempsey looks askance at Kearns. 

 

        KEARNS (cont'd)

I hear you.  You want Dempsey.  My problem is: who doesn't...?  I

mean, I can barely get an open line...  No, 500 is not enough.

 

Dempsey jumps to his feet in disbelief.

 

        KEARNS (cont'd)

How can we take something like that?  Think how it'd look...  I understand, but your guy is -- a little dangerous...  One grand? 

 

Dempsey rushes over, gripping his head in frustration, poised to grab the phone.  He stands over Kearns.

 

        KEARNS (cont'd)

Just gimme somethin' I can take back to Jack.  That's all.  I don't ask a lot.  I'll be here if you...  No, let's say instead I propose 1250, and see what he says.  But no promises...  Bye. 

 

Kearns hangs up, smiles, playfully throws a punch.  Dempsey ducks, hugs Kearns, joyously lifts him high in the air. 

 

DEMPSEY'S POV: Kearns' smile DISSOLVING TO:

 

INT. AUDITORIUM, CHICAGO - TWO WEEKS LATER, night

 

DEMPSEY'S POV: the glare of awesome heavyweight Homer smith. 

 

PULLBACK REVEALS Dempsey and Smith, their faces almost touching in a "pre-fight stare."  The crowd ROARS, drowning the Referee's commands.   He then touches their gloves in a quasi-handshake. 

 

       KEARNS (v.o.)

Ask yourself what's goin' on.  What's really goin' on.

 

The fighters return to their respective corners.  Dempsey sits, Kearns' mouth to his ear.  Teddy Hayes rubs his neck.

 

           KEARNS (cont'd)

Take a look.  You're the pay day. 

You're the stepping stone.  That's why they called; that's why you're here. What'd Jess say? "He started a nobody - he'll finish a nobody."  Don't let this sonovabitch get his respect through you.

 

The BELL RINGS.  As the fighters "feel each other out," Kearns quickly wipes up a damp spot in Dempsey's corner.  A thud is heard.  Kearns looks up wide-eyed.  Hayes stares at stopwatch.

 

THEIR POV: Smith is counted out; Dempsey cradles him, carries him to his awed CORNERMEN; stopwatch shows 1 and 1/2 minutes.

 

                                             DISSOLVING TO:

 

SEQUENCE over next 6 months: we hear a succession of THUDS and, simultaneously, see stopwatchES stopped at 1 minute 20 seconds, 1 minute 10 seconds, 1 minute, 55 seconds, 50 seconds, etc.

 

INT. fighter's dressing room, LAST Fight VENUE, night

 

Hayes holds a glass to toast Dempsey along with kearns, Hayes, Schneckman, Big Bill Tate, black, massive, a sparring partner.  

 

HAYES

Jack, you've entered the elite of the division. 

 

They drink. A Bodyguard enters, motions to Dempsey, "Come here." 

 

EXT. DRESSING ROOM

 

Dempsey, beaming, holds Maxine's hand. 

 

DEMPSEY

See it was the right decision.   

(indicating dressing room)

And it's Doc settin' it all up...  I'm so glad you made it.

 

MAXINE

I guess Doc didn't think 'a this. 

 

She hands him a letter -- already opened.    

 

INSERT on letter: DRAFT induction NOTICE for JACK DEMPSEY

 

         MAXINE (cont'd)

Shipyard workers don't have to go.  They're needed here for the war effort...  Well there's nothing anyone can do about it now... 

And with you goin' off for God knows how long, I'll need all the

help I can get.  The purse from tonight.  It's a start. 

 

INT. RESTAURANT - LATER

 

Kearns and Dempsey, deeply conflicted, confer.

KEARNS

Well Kid, we knew we'd face this sooner or later.

 

DEMPSEY

I should go.  But who supports my family if I go overseas?

 

KEARNS

(thinking; long beat)

Why don't we ask them?

 

EXT. DEMPSEY'S MOTHER'S HOUSE, COLORADO - WEEK LATER, DAY

 

Dempsey enters the yard, looks around curiously.  Kearns stares. 

 

KEARNS' POV: crushing, Appalachia-type poverty -- the roof of a shack-like house covered with tarp; windows without glass; front steps broken; a primitive well; a mange dog barely able to bark.

 

ANGLE ON Dempsey's brother (Dan) with a dramatic spinal deformity, exiting the house in a crudely fashioned wheelchair

-- a chair fastened to worn bicycle wheels.  Dempsey's 3 teenage sisters, his mother, 60's, a vintage, old-west frontier woman, exit.  Dempsey runs to them.  They all embrace at the same time.   

 

HOLD ON Kearns as he fixates on Dempsey -- his heart going out to him.  He never thought it was this bad.

 

INT. DEMPSEY'S MOTHER'S HOUSE - LATER

 

The interior is as bad the exterior.  Old, crumbling books are stacked near a piano which could only have come from a junk yard. Kearns sits at the dinner table with the Dempsey family. 

 

MRS. DEMPSEY

I don't care about the money.  I don't care how much you've sent,

can send, will send.  I don't

want you in any war. 

 

DEMPSEY

Ma...

 

           MRS. DEMPSEY (intrpt'g)

Not my son.  No wars for my child.

 

DEMPSEY

I can't say "No" 'cause 'a that.

 

As a Sister smiles at Kearns, puts more food on his plate:

 

KEARNS

Thank you. 


         KEARNS (cont'd)

(to Mrs. Dempsey)

It's wonderful.

 

DEMPSEY SISTER

(admiring Kearns)

We didn't know to who we'd be serving.

 

MRS. DEMPSEY

To "whom" we'd be serving.

 

Kearns smiles at the Sister, "It's Okay."  Dempsey eyes Dan.

 

DEMPSEY

Wait a second.  What about the wheelchair?  And ma, the roof...?

 

MRS. DEMPSEY

(gently)

Jack, even with your $20 a month...

 

DEMPSEY

(shocked)

20...?

 

Kearns eyes Dempsey, realizes what he is thinking.

 

MRS. DEMPSEY

A fortune, I know.  And we're so grateful.  But with all the mouths to feed...

 

INT. MOVING TRAIN - NEXT DAY, DAY

 

Dempsey, heartbroken, sits across from Kearns.  Silence, then:

 

KEARNS

The finances, let me handle it.  The money to your folks -- so it actually gets there.  Whatever's coming to Maxine. 

(to Dempsey's look)

Kid, it's my job to worry about these things.  It's your job not to.  No way can you carry this into the ring.

 

DEMPSEY

I still can't believe Maxine would...  You handle it... 

(beat)

You really think I should go for the exemption?

EXT. DRAFT BOARD, PHILADELPHIA - MONTH LATER, DAY

 

Kearns and Dempsey enter a room labeled "Selective Service." 

 

                     KEARNS (v.o. moving onstage)

You're entitled to it.  That's why they have it.  The exemption, it's nothing to be ashamed of.

 

EXT. MARQUE "MADISON SQUARE GARDEN," MANHATTAN - MONTH LATER, DAY

 

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, MADISON SQUARE GARDEN

 

CLOSE ON grainy fight film: we see "3, 2, 1," then fighters, all white, in action.  

 

        ASSOCIATE #1 (v.o.)

Okay, here it is.  We got Nelson. Morris...  Just got Norton.  Ties to Flynn... Fulton.  And they're still the best to have. 

 

        ASSOCIATE #2 (v.o.)

We're gonna have to give Fulton a meeting. 

 

        GIBBS (v.o.)

We are?

 

        ASSOCIATE #2 (v.o.)

Sooner or later.  His guy keeps, ya know, "Fred's the top contender.  Paid his dues.  Earned

his shot.  Been waiting, waiting, waiting for his shot at Jess."  The press is saying it, too.

 

        GIBBS (v.o.)

I don't see a guy who can light up a marque, make it worth our while

or give Jess the pay day he wants...  Eh, tell him we're working on it.

 

        ASSOCIATE #2 (v.o.)

Till when?

 

        GIBBS (v.o.)

Till we're no longer working on it...  Well gentlemen, next week? 

 

The Film appears to end.  We see men rising in the dark. 

 

        ASSOCIATE #3 (v.o.)

Wait, wait.  One more.  This kid who just broke into the top ten... 

 

The FILM shows DEMPSEY's one-punch knockouts of recent opponents.

 

Lights come on to reveal a still dimmed, smokey room where Gibbs (whom Kearns confronted at the San Francisco gym) and AssociateS sit at an enormous conference table -- all clearly impressed.  They encircle an eminent man we cannot see well in the light.     

 

ASSOCIATE #1

But there was a problem...? 

 

Associate # 3 displays Dempsey's Draft FILE stamped "EXEMPTED." 

 

ASSOCIATE #3

No more.  He qualified.  Sole support of his family.  He won the exemption...  Our guy at the Draft Board says it's legit. 

 

ASSOCIATE #4

Can we sign him?

 

GIBBS

He's managed by Jack Kearns.

 

Gibbs eyes him as if he should know it.  Glum silence, then:  

 

ASSOCIATE #3

The Darcy thing's going on 2 years.  What we gotta get across to Kearns now is the doctor

cleared him.  It's all public record.  The doctor said he could fight.  It's not like we killed him. 

 

gIBBS

He knows that.

 

ASSOCIATE #5

Well, if ya try to see it his way -- not that we should -- but the way Kearns sees it, Darcy would've never been in the ring if he'd "remained" with him.  Doctor or no doctor, being over the flu does not mean ready to go toe-to-toe with a ranked contender, a puncher.

 

GIBBS

Let 'em think whatever he wants.  His guy's only number 10. 

 

ASSOCIATE #2

Why not go with Fireman Flynn? 

 

ASSOCIATE #1

I'd put Flynn number 2.

 

ASSOCIATE #5

And he already beat Dempsey.

       

       RICKARD (v.o.)

You all know the story, or should.

 

GIBBS

(deferentially)

Tex?

 

All hush and turn toward the darkened eminence -- now undimmed.

 

It is Tex Rickard, now mid 50's, even tougher, still the poker-faced Texan.  He is now a man of great stature and, indisputably, the world's premier sports promoter. 

 

RICKARD

Same old story: Last minute substitute.  No training.  Teenager at the time.  Dempsey should never've been in the ring. 

(beat)

By the way, Kearns is right.  We spend a ton on these fighters.  We can't think just one fight. 

 

GIBBS

Will Kearns talk to you?

 

RICKARD

(thinking; unsure)

I've never actually met the man.

 

INT. MAXINE'S Living quarters, Brothel - MONTH LATER, DAY

 

Dempsey collects his belongings.   Maxine puts her arms around him, tries to hold him.  He pulls away, but is clearly torn.

 

MAXINE

I understand.  I do.  Seeing me with other men.  That'll stop, as soon as I can.  I promise.  Oh how I wish I could stop!  But this is

         MAXINE (cont'd)

who I was when you met me, Jack.  Be fair, Jack.  Please be fair.

 

DEMPSEY

It's not that... just that.  It's... it's more like you're not ever really glad to see me... 

 

           MAXINE (intrpt'g)

But I am. 

 

DEMPSEY

... and that you're stealing from my mom.

 

MAXINE

Whatever are you talking about...?

I, eh, just a few dollars here and there.  I've got my expenses, too.

 

DEMPSEY

And I'll still do for you whatever I can... after the divorce.

 

MAXINE

(realizing it's too late)

As if you've done so much for me already?!  Like sending our money

to your mother and that lame brother of yours.  I didn't marry

your brother or your mother or some goddam fight manager!

 

She swings a lamp, smacking his hand.  He grimaces, grabs whatever he can, quickly exits.  

 

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE BROTHEL

 

                MAXINE (v.o., calling)

You ain't heard the last of this!

 

Kearns holds Dempsey's things, watches Dempsey rub his hand.

 

INT. PHARMACY, NEW JERSEY - WEEK later, day

 

Dempsey's swollen hand is examined by a Pharmacist.  He gazes at his shelves.  Kearns enters with Allison, carrying her suitcase.

 

KEARNS

Look who I found.

 

Dempsey and Allison embrace.  Kearns strides to the counter.

 

KEARNS

Yes, I'd like something for this man's hand: equal parts iodine, wintergreen, and sweet olive oil to take down the swelling.

 

PHARMACIST

(exiting)

Yes Doctor.  Right away.

 

DEMPSEY

(beat; laughing)

Yes Doctor.  Right away.

 

ALLISON

(smiling; to Dempsey)

So how are you?

 

EXT. PHARMACY

 

Dempsey, troubled, sits with Allison on the pharmacy steps.  As they speak, Kearns exits with a package of medications.

 

DEMPSEY

I thought we were gonna take care of one another, break out of this together.

 

ALLISON

Jack, what else could you do? 

The divorce's final.  Stop doing this to yourself.

 

KEARNS

Let it go, Jack.   

 

DEMPSEY

I'm fine.

 

KEARNS

No you're not.  A worried fight- er's a wounded fighter.  I've had

guys, half as emotionally entan-gled, dislodged from their senses

by far lesser fighters.  Seen it too often.  And you got Flynn. 

 

Kearns nudges Dempsey, points to a FIGHT POSTER in a window. As they look, teenagers pass, see Dempsey, gawk. As he smiles back:

 

ALLISON

You're too good a person, Jack.  Focus on Flynn.

 

CLOSE ON POSTER: above the advertisers, including Golden Field Raceway, is Dempsey and Fireman Flynn in a "pre-fight stare." 

 

INT. AUDITORIUM, NEW JERSEY - TWO WEEKS LATER, night

 

Dempsey and Fireman Flynn in the "pre-fight stare."  The spectators roar as the Referee gives his last instructions. 

 

REFEREE

... and come out fighting.

 

Dempsey returns to his corner.  Kearns speaks to him.

 

KEARNS

You're now but 2 steps away...

 

BELL RINGS.  Dempsey and Flynn go toe to toe.  Flynn drops, then we DISSOLVE TO:

 

Dempsey entering the ring against Fred Fulton.  As Hayes descends the ring steps with Kearns, we HEAR:

 

        KEARNS (v.o.)

And, as of today, Fulton is all that stands between you and...

 

A thud is HEARD.  Hayes freezes.  Kearns sees Hayes, turns, watches Fulton counted out.  Hayes looks at his stopwatch.

 

                KEARNS (v.o., cont'd)

... Jess Willard.

 

CLOSE-UP OF STOPWATCH: 18 seconds elapsed. 

 

Reporters rush to Dempsey, congratulate him, try to get quotes.  He modestly deflects adulation, teases a Reporter about his hat.

 

EXT. CLARIDGE Restaurant, MANHATTAN - Week later, day

 

        Bouncer (o.s.)

No dogs or niggers allowed. 

 

Kearns, stepping toward the front door, overhears. 

 

INT. LOBBY, CLARIDGE RESTAURANT

 

ON Harry Wills, black, tall, imposing, early 30's, well dressed, surrounded by 3 large BOUNCERS.  One of the Bouncers rolls up his sleeves as if to get real serious.  Wills is calm but alert.

 

        KEARNS (v.o.)

I wouldn't go there... not with Harry Wills. 

 

Kearns casually approaches.  The Bouncers gaze at him and back at Wills with amazement, fear -- then step back.  Wills joins Kearns as if nothing happened.  As they exit, NELSON, a waiter, very slight, witnessing the incident, peers at them admiringly.

 

KEARNS

How's life treating you?

 

WILLS

This cold.  I can't shake it.

 

KEARNS

Summer colds are the worst. 

(turning toward bar)

Harry, I can't talk now.  Sorry I didn't get back to you.

 

WILLS

Forget it. Just hear me out... You can see it.  Things are loosenin' up.  All over.  We got us... 

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Harry, I can't...

 

           WILLS (intrpt'g)

... got us a colored featherweight champ.  And look at the welter- weights.  With you gettin' all...

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Harry...

 

WILLS

... this press and me unattached...  

 

KEARNS

Harry.  I tell you straight.  I handle one fighter now -- only way I can do it right.  You know that.

(beat; sincerely)

Good luck. 

 

WILLS

Alright, alright.  Just one question.  One question. 

(as Kearns moves away)

How you gonna do it -- get 'em a title shot?   

 

KEARNS

Now if I knew that, I'd have gotten you one.   

 

INT. BAR, CLARIDGE Restaurant

 

Kearns enters the elegant bar.  Brady vigorously waves him over.

 

BRADY

Where've ya been?!  I've been calling everywhere. 

 

KEARNS

I just heard.  What's up?

 

BRADY

Listen.  I'm meeting someone here.  He called me at the theater.  Out of the blue.  Wouldn't say why.  But I bet he knows I know you.

(beat; cautiously)

Fellow named Tex Rickard.

 

Kearns freezes, looks at Brady for a moment almost hatefully.

 

        BRADY (cont'd)

Doc... You oughta talk to him.

(getting no response)

I know what you're gonna say

but you oughta talk to him... I'll even make the first move.

 

KEARNS

Jack's the top contender.  He can't be denied.

 

BRADY

Fulton was the top contender.  Where'd it get him?

 

KEARNS

(grabs coat to leave)

Bill, it's not that I don't appreciate this.  But I can't.

 

BRADY

Do you know who that man is?

 

Long silence.  Kearns studies Brady, walks the length of bar muttering to himself, returns, gulps a shot, nods, "Alright." 

 

ANGLE ON Rickard entering, soon surrounded.  Brady approaches, edges in, introduces himself.  They shake, approach Kearns.

 

BRADY

Tex, like you to meet Doc Kearns. 

 

Rickard does not recognize Kearns.  Kearns knows it.


KEARNS

Hi Tex, how ya been?

 

RICKARD

(puzzled by familiarity)

Good... and you?

 

KEARNS

Fine.  Made quite a name for yourself.

 

RICKARD

(eyeing Kearns; ever

so faint recognition)

Just a minute.  Do I know you?

 

KEARNS

(quietly)

You don't remember?

 

Rickard shakes his head, puzzled.

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Scagway, Alaska.  The Klondike.

 

Rickard stares, still puzzled.  Kearns shuffles impatiently. 

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Boxed.  Prospected.  The roulette wheel, the tables. 

(swishes hand in hair)

Weighed gold...  

 

Rickard, startled, studies Kearns.  A vaguely uncomfortable "It couldn't be" look flashes across Rickard's face. 

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

... when I worked for you.

 

RICKARD

Jackie...?  Jackie?!!

 

Kearns nods.  Rickard looks Kearns over, amazed.  He smiles.

 

         RICKARD (cont'd)

Jack, eh Doc... But look at you!  Like to think I had some part in this. 

(seeing Kearns' expression)

Hey, I was a little quick on the trigger back in those days, I know.  Hell, ya had to be... Look at you!  20 years?  It must be.

 

KEARNS

Twenty-three.

 

RICKARD

And it really is you.  Well why didn't you say so?!

 

KEARNS

(quietly)

Well, for starters: you're the sonovabitch who stole Les Darcy.

 

RICKARD

(smile cracking)

I didn't know anyone "owned" him.

 

KEARNS

Well someone had to write his par- ents why he was coming home in a box -- and I recall it wasn't you. 

 

RICKARD

Excuse me.

 

Rickard walks off.  Brady looks hard at Kearns. 

 

BRADY

What is it with you? 

 

KEARNS

There's a line even I won't cross.

 

BRADY

Well, consider this: you're on the edge of everything you've ever worked toward.  Now all ya gotta do, assuming Jess ever agrees, is: rent a stadium or, if need be, build one; have all the financial guarantees rock solid and full sanction from the Commission; have friends in high places just in

case; and make damn sure that a fella in Wichita can buy a ticket

for a bout in New York.  Very few people can do that.  The guy who does it better than anyone in the world -- is over there.

 

ANGLE ON Rickard shaking hands as if about to leave.

 

ANGLE ON Kearns peering at Rickard.  Kearns, torn by a great dilemma, downs 3 shots. He approaches Rickard, extends his hand.   

 

KEARNS

What's done is done.  No hard feelings, and... I apologize.

 

Rickard eyes Kearns suspiciously, slowly extends his hand. 

 

SAME SCENE - LATER, NIGHT

 

The bar is almost empty.  Kearns and Rickard sit alone.

 

KEARNS

Jack's already taken these guys apart.  Every last one.

 

RICKARD

Grudge matches are big business.

For both of us... And like you say, Jack's already beaten 'em once.   

 

KEARNS

How much would Willard want?

 

RICKARD

I'm telling you. We spoke just the other day.  Jess won't defend till next year.  And not against Jack.    

 

KEARNS

How much...?  Come on, Tex!

 

RICKARD

Might as well offer him a 100 grand.

 

Kearns catches a passing WAITER.

 

KEARNS

Telegraph blank, please.  Thanks.

 

The Waiter returns, gives Kearns a telegraph blank. He scribbles:

 

"OFFERING GREATEST GUARANTEE EVER [STOP]  ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND [STOP]  WHEN AND WHERE WILL YOU FIGHT DEMPSEY?"

 

RICKARD

Who's making this offer?

 

KEARNS

You.

(gingerly backtracking)

Sure there's off shore money -- Melbourne, London, Havana where Jess won the title.  But the only one Jess'll even talk to is you.

RICKARD

Suggest where I might get 100 grand?

 

KEARNS

Listen to me, Tex.  It's not that Jack's so damn strong or quick.  It's that, yes.  But when he gets in the ring, it's the end of the line 'cause that's how he thinks.  I never seen anything like it, and

I've seen 'em all over the world.

 

RICKARD

But Willard...

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Willard who?! Forget Willard. Just wait till he has to face Jack.  You know it Tex.  I know you do... And for you, me, Dempsey, this'd

be only the start. 

 

RICKARD

You're saying if I...

 

           KEARNS (intrpt'g)

Just like old times but with Jack at the plate...  Tex, this kid's the real deal, this kid's the future.  Barely 23, a charmer, the press can't get enough of him... and he's white.

 

RICKARD

I... I donno, Doc.  I donno.

 

KEARNS

Alright.  Okay.  I'll go one more.  We'll fight for anything or nothing.  You decide.

 

INT. BANQUET ROOM, MANHATTAN - TWO months LATER, day

 

       RICKARD (v.o.)

Gentlemen, I have called you here today for a purpose.

 

REPORTERS crowd the posh banquet room.  The room is hushed.  All eyes focus on Rickard on the dais, Gibbs at his side.

 

        RICKARD (cont'd)

There's been a development in the sporting world for which we've

waited far too long.  With the

        RICKARD (cont'd)

war finally over, Jess Willard

will defend his title against

young Jack Dempsey.  Mr. Willard will receive a $100,000 guarantee.

 

GASPS from the audience.  The RUSTLING of note pads.

 

        RICKARD (cont'd)

Mr. Dempsey, who is with us today, is so grateful for the

opportunity that he is willing to fight for free.  However, I will

be sure to take care of him once the gate receipts are counted.

 

                 KEARNS (v.o., intrpt'g)

Just a minute, Mr. Rickard...

 

All eyes turn to Kearns.

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Let me understand this.  We give you Dempsey, we get ya Willard, and now you're gonna pay us off in the dark.

 

Total silence.  Dempsey sits frozen.  Brady shakes his head, "Can't believe this."  Rickard, livid, holds his poker face.

 

RICKARD

What are you saying, Mr. Kearns?

 

KEARNS

'Saying this: you'll have to guarantee us money. 

 

RICKARD

I'm gambling a hundred thousand dollars to get you a title shot.  You're gambling nothing.

 

KEARNS

Fine, but Dempsey'll take 50 grand.

 

A wave of CHATTER sweeps the room.  Allison looks worriedly at Schneckman.  A hush as all await word from Rickard.  Finally:

 

RICKARD

Five thousand.

 

Dempsey exhales, deeply relieved.  Kearns pokes him surreptitiously as if to say, "Don't do that."

KEARNS

Five thousand?

 

RICKARD

That's right.

 

KEARNS

Willard's getting a 100 to Dempsey's 5?  Hundred to five?

 

RICKARD

That's right.

 

KEARNS

My mistake.  For just a moment there it sounded like Jess was gettin' the lion's share.

 

LAUGHTER.  Rickard is stony-faced. 

 

BRADY

(to himself)

Can't talk to Rickard like that!

 

RICKARD

(beat; to Kearns)

Five thousand dollars is twice what most men earn in a year.

 

KEARNS

Fine, but we'll take 35.

 

ANGLE ON Brady, Allison, Schneckman.  Brady frowns worriedly.  

 

BRADY

He's gonna walk.

 

Schneckman motions as if to say, "Be calm.  It's not over yet." 

 

RICKARD

Your bottom line?

 

KEARNS

(feigning inspiration)

I got it!  Leave it to the newspaper boys?  A poll.

 

RICKARD

(feeling stares)

Fair enough.

 

Mass commotion.  Reporters confer, jot numbers on paper.  For the first time, Rickard spots Schneckman in the crowd, starts, astonished.  He scrutinizes Kearns. 


RICKARD

(to himself/Gibbs)

What in the world did I create?

 

Paper SLIPS are handed to Rickard. He scans them, forces a smile.

 

RICKARD

High rollers, huh?

(makes calculations; beat)

Kearns, let's call it 27-5.

 

KEARNS

(whispers to Dempsey)

$27,500. Should we take it or walk?

 

Dempsey's mouth goes dry.  He tries but cannot speak.  Kearns winks, turns, faces the crowd.  Total silence.

 

KEARNS

Tex, I want to applaud you, and we all should applaud Mr. Tex

Rickard for putting together the greatest match-up in history.

 

INT. TRAINING CAMP ROOM, TOLEDO, OHIO - MONTH later, DAY

 

CLOSE ON fight film showing Jess WILLARD knocking out black heavyweight champ Jack Johnson.  In the b.g. a jubilant white crowd mobs Willard, lift him high.  We see note, "Havana, 1913."

 

PULLBACK REVEALS Kearns, Hayes and Dempsey meticulously studying the film.  Kearns points to something about Willard's style, demonstrates a counter.  Dempsey, fascinated, nods "I see."

 

MONTAGE: Kearns, Hayes and Dempsey choreograph moves/counters.

 

INT. STADIUM, TOLEDO, OHIO - SEVERAL MONTHS LATER, DAY

 

MILITARY MUSIC BLARES as spectators file in.  In the ring, see the boots begin to scuff the ring canvass.

 

INT. WILLARD'S DRESSING ROOM - LATER 

 

Willard reclines on couch, sips lemonade, chats with reporters. 

 

WILLARD

He'll come tearin' in.  I'll stick out my left, catch 'em with a right.  And that'll be it.

 

INT. DEMPSEY'S DRESSING ROOM - SAME TIME

 

Dempsey, in street clothes, leans over weakly in a fold-out chair, staring down.  Hayes, concerned, looks at Kearns.

INT. STADIUM, RING CENTER - LATER

 

Drum majorettes twirl batons around the marching soldiers whose boots now start to tear the ring canvass.

 

INT. OFFICE, TOLEDO - LATER

 

A bookie, startled, stares at Schneckman.

 

SCHNECKMAN

You heard me right: What are the odds on a first round knockout? 

 

INT. DEMPSEY'S DRESSING ROOM - LATER 

 

Dempsey, still in street clothes, still fixates on floor.  Hayes enters, flashes his fingers to indicate 30 minutes.  Kearns nods, gently touches Dempsey's shoulder.  Dempsey shivers.

 

DEMPSEY

Just... a little lonely right now.

 

KEARNS

Now's the loneliest time.  It'll never be more so.  And that's the way it should be. 

 

DEMPSEY

Should be?

 

KEARNS

The bell rings.  There's no help.  There's no appeal.  You're on your own.  Totally on your own.  But so is Jess.  He can't hide behind this great white hope stuff or all his fancy friends.  When that bell rings, it's one-on-one with Jack Dempsey.  The whole package -- where you've been, what you've

survived, all that's bursting inside.  And on this day, one-on-one with Jack Dempsey is something

no thinking man would ever do.

 

DEMPSEY

(hint of confidence)

Think so? 

 

KEARNS

It's not what I think that counts.

         KEARNS (cont'd)

(beat; almost angrily)

Look.  There comes a time in a man's life when he makes a decision.  He makes it whether he

knows it or not.  The decision is this: is he gonna do no more than safely survive his time on earth, chew on the scraps he's been tossed, accept his worth according to strangers or is he gonna go for the big apple, leave the lifeboat behind, battle for what he so dearly wants to his very last breath.  That's what I'd call having a "fighter's heart." 

(beat)

So here we are.  You can always have what you've had.  Or there's a life beyond.  Something maybe unimaginable.  It can start today.  It's your decision, Jack.  Whether you know it or not, you're making

it now.  Lemme know what you decide.

 

Kearns exits.  Dempsey breathes a big whiff of confidence.

 

DEMPSEY

(to himself)

You're the doctor. 

 

INT. STADIUM - LATER

 

The stadium is full.  workmen hastily lay a new ring canvass.  A rope catches the RING BELL, tightens around it.  Workmen, about to see the tangled bell, look away as the crowd roars.

 

ANGLE ON Dempsey, surrounded by Kearns, Hayes, Big Bill Tate, other sparring partners, coming up the aisle.  Dempsey enters ring, dances around.  Kearns enters, nods to spectators -- Rickard, Allison, Schneckman, Wills and his manager, Paddy Mullins, Reporters Runyon, Igor, Floto, the Golden Field Raceway Owner, Dempsey's family.  Then, a THUNDEROUS ROAR as:

 

ANGLE ON Willard, surrounded by his ENTOURAGE, coming up the aisle.  He enters the ring smiling and waving regally. 

 

ANGLE ON UMBRELLAS in corners: Willard's umbrella is blank.  Dempsey's UMBRELLA is covered with advertisements, including ads for Golden Field Raceway, Curley's Tailor Shop, etc.

 

The Referee (Ollie Pecord) waves the fighters to ring center.  Willard, towering over Dempsey, smirks.  Dempsey looks down (and will not look up till the bell for the first round -- no pre-fight stare.)  The Referee shouts instructions, all drowned out by the crowd and a low flying plane with an acrobat on the wing.  Dempsey returns to his corner -- to Kearns and Hayes.   

 

KEARNS

Alright Kid, this is the big apple.  Draw his right, come over with the left... 

 

HAYES

What we did time and again. 

 

KEARNS

Oh, and by the way, a first round knockout gets us a hundred grand.

 

Dempsey starts.  Kearns nods "It's true," eyes the Bellman.

 

ANGLE ON the BELLMAN pulling the bell cord.  no ring sounds - as the bell remains entangled by the rope. The Timekeeper nevertheless presses his stopwatch - starts it ticking.

 

CLOSE-UP: stopwatch at 3:00, 2:59, 2:58 and counting.

 

Neither fighter moves.  The Referee waits, looks at the Bellman, gestures, "What the hell's going on?"  The Bellman swings a hammer, strikes the bell.  It Rings for Round One.

 

CLOSE-UP: stopwatch at 2:47, 2:46 -- never reset to 3 minutes.

 

Dempsey circles, avoiding Willard's punches.  The crowd quiets.  Then it happens: Dempsey feints, draws Willard's right, comes over it with a left hook.  Willard goes down.

 

The Crowd GASPS, rises.  The Referee starts the count.  Willard staggers up, but is battered to the mat - six times, till he lies unconscious, his face shattered, a bloody pulp. 

 

REFEREE

One... Two... Three...

 

Kearns and Hayes bound onto ring apron.  They hear the ring of the bell, barely audible.  They look at Hayes' stopwatch:

 

CLOSE UP of Stopwatch: it shows 11 seconds left in the round!

 

The Referee counts Willard out.  Dempsey watches, disbelieving.  Kearns looks around, realizes that no one has heard the bell.  He rushes into the ring, embraces Dempsey, pulls him between the Referee and Bellman -- as the Bellman motions frantically to the Referee.  The Referee lifts Dempsey's hand in victory.  Kearns steers the Referee away, but the Referee spies the Bellman. 


KEARNS

(to Hayes; quickly)

We've got the small matter of the hundred grand... Get Jack the hell out'a here!

 

Hayes directs Dempsey and his sparring partners out of the ring.  In the ring, Kearns dances a jig -- anything to distract the Referee.  The Referee finally reaches the Bellman as Willard is dragged to his corner.  Hayes rushes to the Referee, shows him his stopwatch, argues furiously.  Kearns rushes in.

 

REFEREE

It's official.  Jess was saved by the bell.

 

KEARNS

My guy's already back in his dressing room!

 

REFEREE

Well, ya better get 'em out here.  Or he'll be disqualified.

 

Kearns scrambles to the corner, shouts, waves furiously. 

 

ANGLE ON Dempsey entourage: Tate glimpses Kearns, does a "double-take."  Tate turns Dempsey.

 

DEMPSEY'S POV of far away ring: Kearns waves frantically to him; Willard, now standing, towers over everyone. 

 

Dempsey's Entourage breaks into a run, knocking spectators aside.  The Referee, not seeing Dempsey, impatiently takes Willard's arm to raise it in victory.  Kearns lunges, grabs the Referee's arm, points to Dempsey.  The Referee nods, "O.K."  Kearns returns to the corner to a bewildered Dempsey. 

 

KEARNS

The guy's finished anyway.  Just settle down, box carefully.

 

The BELL RINGS.  The round DISSOLVES past a muffled RING.  Willard is collapsing as the bell rings ending the 3rd round.  Willard's Cornermen carry him to his corner.  Then a towel flies high into the air.  Kearns and Dempsey see it, embrace.

 

         KEARNS (cont'd)

Only you Jack Dempsey.  Won the title twice in one try!

 

HOLD ON EMBRACE as we DISSOLVE TO:

 

INT. THEATER, MANHATTAN - YEAR LATER, DAY

 

NEWSREEL FOOTAGE of the Kearns/Dempsey embrace, a banner "NEWS OF THE DAY" with TRUMPETS sounding, then FOOTAGE of:

 

Dempsey, smiling brightly, being mobbed by admirers who shake his hand, touch his clothing, strain to get close;

 

Dempsey driving along the Pacific Coast in a shiny Rolls Royce, the monogrammed white tires of which read, "J.D.";

 

Dempsey, made-up, gesturing melodramatically under the eye of the Director as cameras roll on the set of "Daredevil Jack";

 

Dempsey and the cast, including Kearns - the M.C., bowing on an outdoor stage under the BANNER "Pantages CIRCUS";

 

Dempsey showing his fist to adoring children then playfully glaring at one child whose face lights up brightly.

 

         newsreel commentator (v.o.)

Jack Dempsey, heavyweight champion of the world, man about town, object of an adoring public.  First, the movie contract, then the smash hit "Daredevil Jack," the tour with the famed Pantages Circus and, above all, a champ who always found time for the kids. 

 

title CARD: "7 months later: DISASTER! DISGRACE! Dishonor!"

 

MOVIE FOOTAGE: The ATTORNEY GENERAL speaking to REPORTERS.  SUPERIMPOSED are HEADLINES: "INDICTMENTS!"; "DEMPSEY HELD AS SLACKER, KEARNS AS ACCOMPLICE"; "DEMPSEY/MANAGER TO FACE JURY."

 

        newsreel commentator (v.o.)

In one corner, Jack Dempsey; in the other, the United States of

America.  At stake: Jack's title, his reputation, his very liberty.  Barely 8 months after winning the

title, Jack is indicted for draft evasion, his flamboyant manager, Jack 'Doc' Kearns...

 

MOVIE Footage: Kearns smiling brightly and waving.

 

        newsreel commentator (v.o.)

... indicted for aiding and abetting.  Both, if convicted, face a mandatory 7 to 10. 

 

title CARD: "The war to end all wars and Mr. Dempsey never showed up." -- U.S. Attorney General.

 

MOVIE FOOTAGE: U.S. agents shield Maxine from Reporters over which is superimposed a letter beginning "Dear Editor" appearing on the front page of the San Francisco Examiner.

 

        newsreel commentator (v.o.)

It all started with one letter:

(reading) 

"My husband, Jack Dempsey, did not support his family during the war.  He evaded military service, and good conscience demands I speak." 

 

TITLE CARD: "Act of conscience or poisoned pen?  And now, the trial of the century!"

 

MOVIE FOOTAGE of TRIAL: Dempsey, Maxine, Dempsey's Mother, and Kearns on the witness stand; Dempsey and Kearns before the jury. 

 

        newsreel commentator (v.o.)

The result: acquitted in under an hour.  When presented his attorney's

bill, Kearns protests, "Why don't you just take Dempsey?!" 

 

TITLE CARD: "The end for Dempsey?" 

 

MOVIE FOOTAGE: Dempsey and Kearns, surrounded by Bodyguards, exit the court to signs such as "Slacker," "My son died - you MADE THOUSANDS," and "BOYCOTT DEMPSEY"; they hurry into a car.

 

        newsreel commentator (v.o.)

His movie contract cancelled by the studio, his national rail tour on hold, his phone calls going unreturned, Dempsey is the cham-pion no one wants to fight, no one wants to know.  And whether the public will ever accept the jury's verdict remains an open question.

 

Int. Theater SHOWING NEWSREEL, Manhattan

 

The newsreel ends.  Paddy Mullins (Harry Wills' manager) rises, walks by the "colored" section.  Wills rises, joins him.  Gibbs and Rickard rise elsewhere - joined by William MUldoon, New York State Athletic Commissioner, 60's, handle-bar mustache, once the world's strongest man.  As the groups exit separately, we hear:

 

WILLS

(to Mullins)

Now they gotta come to us, right?

GIBBS

(to Rickard)

To us, on their knees. 

 

RICKARD

(thinking; slyly)

And we won't be there.

 

GIBBS

(startled)

We won't...?

 

Int. OTHER Theater, Manhattan - SAME TIME

 

On screen: A silent movie featuring Estelle Taylor, late 20's, glamorous, sexy.

 

PULLBACK REVEALS Dempsey watching with his Bodyguards inside the projectionist booth -- well concealed from the theater audience.

 

INT. LOBBY, Hotel, NEW YORK - next day, morning

 

Dempsey, wearing jeans and an old cap so not to be recognized, enters with Bodyguards.  He carries a suit.  They approach a dry cleaning shop in the lobby.  The Laundry Man -- recognizing Dempsey -- puts up a "Closed" sign.  A Bodyguard, irked, starts to approach the shop.  Dempsey stops him, gestures, "Leave it be."  Just then, something catches his eye.  Then they all look.

 

ON ESTELLE TAYLOR alone at a taxi stand.

 

        BODYGUARD #1 (v.o.)

It really is her.

 

A Bodyguard nods to Dempsey, "You saw her first."  Dempsey, heart racing, walks toward her.  He spies his reflection in a window, presses his pug nose in -- as if hoping it will stay.

 

Dempsey

(to himself; psyching up)

Champion'a the world.

 

She glances at the rumpled, capped stranger, looks away.  Words fail him.  He passes her, mouths disgustedly, "Champion of the world."  A taxi stops.  He rushes back, opens the door. She enters. He stands there holding the door.  She smiles, tips him.

 

As the taxi enters traffic, the DRIVER spies Dempsey, does a double-take.  He sputters something.  Estelle turns, stares.   

 

INT. RICKARD'S OFFICE, MADISON SQUARE GARDEN - NEXT DAY, DAY

 

A New York Tribune sits on Rickard's desk.  Rickard, seated next to Gibbs, turns to his Associates. 


RICKARD

Stay with me on this.  Jack needs a big score.  What, I donno 'cause I have no idea what'll work.  Now, what if Kearns can't move Dempsey, can't move the heavyweight champion of the world?  No fights, no exhibitions, no nothin?  What might Jack do?  What would you do? 

 

GIBBS

(thinking)

I might put out feelers for new management.  I might even come directly... to us.

 

RICKARD

And if we play our cards right, which we will, some day, maybe soon, we'll get the call. 

 

ASSOCIATE

The call?

 

RICKARD

From Jack Dempsey.  The call in which he informs us that he's ready to come into the fold. 

 

INT. Kearns/Dempsey hotel suite, MANHATTAN - next day, day

 

CLOSE ON HEADING OF ARTICLE IN NEW YORK TRIBUNE: "Manager Did All The Talking -- Draft Board Source."

 

PULLBACK REVEALS Dempsey, wearing the jacket he brought to the laundry, folding up the Tribune as he hears Kearns enter.