Taxi Driver: Campaign Headquarters

FADE TO:

EXT. CHARLES PALANTINE CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS

The Headquarters of the "New Yorkers for Charles Palantine for President Committee", located at the corner of 50th Street and Broadway, are festooned in traditional red, white and blue banners, ribbons and signs.

One large sign proclaims "Palantine". Another sign reads "Register for New York Primary, July 20.". The smiling middle-aged face of Charles Palantine keeps watch over the bustling pedestrians.

It is LATE AFTERNOON.

INSIDE HEADQUARTERS

A variety of YOUNG WORKERS joke and chatter as they labor through stacks of papers. The room is pierced with the sound of ringing phones.

Seen from a distance - the only way Travis can see them - those are America's chosen youth: Healthy, energetic, well-groomed, attractive, all recruited from the bucolic fields of Massachusetts and Connecticut.

CAMERA FAVORS BETSY, about 25, an extremely attractive woman sitting at the reception desk between two phones and several stacks of papers. Her attractions, however, are more than skin deep. Beneath that Cover Girl facial there is a keen, though highly specialized sensibility: Her eyes scan every man who passes her desk as her mind computes his desirability: Political, intellectual, sexual, emotional, material. Simple pose and status do not impress her; she seeks out the extraordinary qualities in men. She is, in other words, star-fucker of the highest order.

Betsy, putting down the phone, calls TOM, a lanky, amiable and modishly long-haired campaign worker over to her desk:

BETSY: Tom.

Tom is pleasant and good-looking, but lacks those special qualities which interest Betsy. He gets nowhere with Betsy - yet he keeps trying. Just another of those routine office flirtations which pass the hours and free the fantasies.

BETSY: Tom, come here a moment. (he walks over) I think this canvas report is about ready to go out. Check it out with Andy, and if he okays if, have a copy made for the campaign headquarters in every county. (a beat) And don't forget to add the new photo releases.

TOM: The senator's white paper is almost ready, Bets. Should we wait for that?

BETSY: Andy usually just sends those to the national media. The local press doesn't know what to do with a position paper until UPI and AP tell them anyway.

TOM: I think we should try to get maximum coverage for this new mandatory welfare program. Push the issues.

BETSY (as if instructing a child): First push the man, then the issue. Senator Palantine is first of all a dynamic man, an intelligent, interesting, fascinating man.

TOM: You forgot "sexy".

BETSY: No, I didn't forget "sexy".

TOM: Just didn't get around to it, huh?

BETSY: Oh, Tom, please.

TOM: Well, for Christsakes, you sound like you're selling... I don't know what... cars... not issues.

BETSY: Have you ever wondered why CBS News has the highest ratings?

TOM: More people watch it.

BETSY: Alright, forget it if you're not going to be serious,

TOM: No, c'mon, I'm listening. I was just...

BETSY: Just what?

TOM: Kidding around... you know, fun.

Betsy looks toward the street, then back at Tom.

BETSY: Maybe if you'd try thinking once in a while, you'd get somewhere.

TOM: With who?

BETSY: Alright, now. You want to know why CBS has the highest ratings? You think their news is any different from NBC, ABC? It's all the same news. Same stories. Same order usually. What, you thought they had good news for people, right? You thought that's why people watched CBS? I'll tell you why people watch CBS. Cronkite. The man. You got it? Not the news, not the issues, the man. If Walter Cronkite told people to eat soap, they'd do it. We are selling cars, goddamn it.

Betsy's attention is being distracted by something she sees across the street. She puts on her glasses and looks out across the street again.

TOM: Well, if Cronkite's so great, why don't we run him instead?

BETSY: That's the last. The finish. Period. Some pople can learn. Some people can't. And you wonder why we never get serious----

TOM: Sure we could run him. You realize he's already of his block association.

BETSY (looks across street again): Have you been noticing anything strange?

TOM: No, why?

BETSY: Why's that taxi driver across the street been staring at us?

TOM: What taxi driver?

BETSY: That taxi driver. The one that's been sitting here.

TOM: How long has he been there?

BETSY: I don't know - but it feels like a long time.

Travis' cold piercingly eyes stare out from his cab parked across the street from Palantine Headquarters. He is like a lone wolf watching the warm campfires of civilization from a distance. A thin red dot glows from his cigarette.

Tom exchanges Travis' gaze.

TOM (determined): Well, I'll go out and ask him.

As Tom walks toward front door Betsy's eyes alternate between him and the position where Travis sits.

EXT. PALANTINE HEADQUARTERS

Tom strides out the front door and walks briskly across the street toward Travis' taxi.

Travis spots Tom walking toward him and quickly stares up his cab, then squeals off in a burst of billowing exhaust.

Tom watches the speeding taxi quizzically.

Travis' taxi continues down Broadway.