All-the-President's-Men.txt

ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN - by William Goldman




                                "ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN"

                                            by

                                     William Goldman

                                    Based on the novel

                                "All The President's Men"

                                            by

                             Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

                            Pre-rehearsal version March, 1975

                

               Start with as few credits as possible. When they're over--

               FADE IN ON:

               A TINY BLACK PIECE OF TAPE.

               We see it in the center of the large, dimly lit screen. As 
               the tape is pressed around a door--

               BEGIN THE BREAK-IN SEQUENCE.

               It's a major piece of action, running maybe five minutes and 
               it's all as detailed and accurate as we can make it, with as 
               many "if only's" included as possible. ("If only" the tape 
               had been attached up and down instead of around the door, 
               Wills wouldn't have spotted it and alerted the police; "if 
               only" the first police car called had gone to investigate, 
               Baldwin, watching from the Howard Johnson Motor Inn, would 
               have seen their uniforms and radioed Hunt and Liddy in time 
               for them to have gotten to the five burglars and then safely 
               away.)

               The break-in ends when Leeper arrests the five men. He thought 
               he only had one guy, so when ten hands were raised he was 
               surprised. The hands are all encased in Playtex rubber 
               surgical gloves. HOLD on the hands a moment; then--

                                                                     GO TO:

               A DARK APARTMENT.

               The phone rings. WOODWARD fumbles for the receiver, turns on 
               the bed light. He listens a moment.

                                     WOODWARD
                         No, no trouble, Harry, be right down.
                              (he hangs up)
                         Son of a bitch.

               He lies back. The apartment is one room, a small terrace 
               beyond. Not much of a place.

               WOODWARD lies still, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, blinks 
               again. HOLD...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE ENORMOUS FIFTH FLOOR OF THE WASHINGTON POST.

               It looks, early of a Saturday morning, pretty deserted. Those 
               reporters that are around are young, bright, and presently 
               involved in nothing more taxing than drinking coffee and 
               thumbing through the papers.

               HARRY ROSENFELD surveys the scene from his office doorway as 
               WOODWARD approaches, hangs his coat at his desk, not far 
               from where ROSENFELD is standing.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Where's that cheery face we've come 
                         to know and love?

                                     WOODWARD
                         You call me in on my day off because 
                         some idiots have broken into local 
                         Democratic Headquarters--tell me, 
                         Harry, why should I be smiling?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         As usual, that keen mind of yours 
                         has pegged the situation perfectly.
                              (chomps on some Maalox 
                              tablets)
                         Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic 
                         Headquarters, it was National 
                         Democratic Headquarters--
                              (WOODWARD is surprised--
                              he hadn't known)
                         --and (b) these weren't just any 
                         idiots, these were special idiots, 
                         seeing as when they were arrested at 
                         2:30 this morning, they were all 
                         wearing business suits and Playtex 
                         gloves and were carrying--
                              (consults a piece of 
                              paper)
                         --a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of 
                         film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized 
                         tear gas guns, plus various bugging 
                         devices.
                              (puts paper down)
                         Not to mention over two thousand 
                         dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred 
                         dollar bills.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Preliminary hearing at Superior 
                         Courthouse?

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (nods)
                         Two o'clock, work the phones 'til 
                         you go.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE CRIMINAL COURTS BUILDING.

               WOODWARD hurries along, goes inside as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CORRIDOR INSIDE. WOODWARD comes down it, looks around, 
               sees a door marked "Counsel's Offices" and heads toward it. 
               Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CLERK AT A DESK as WOODWARD comes up. Behind them, two 
               lawyers are clearly angry about something, talking and 
               gesticulating to each other.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (to the COUNSEL'S 
                              CLERK)
                         Could you give me the names of the 
                         lawyers for the men arrested in the 
                         Watergate.

                                     CLERK
                         These two were appointed--
                              (indicates the angry 
                              men)
                         --only now it turns out the burglars 
                         got their own counsel.
                              (he starts to laugh)

                                     FIRST ANGRY LAWYER
                              (to CLERK)
                         When you gonna stop thinking it's so 
                         funny.

                                     SECOND ANGRY LAWYER
                              (To CLERK)
                         We wouldda done a terrific job 
                         protecting those guys.
                              (neither lawyer, by 
                              the way, is Clarence 
                              Darrow)

                                     FIRST ANGRY LAWYER
                         You think we're not as good as some 
                         hotshot fancy lawyer?--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE COURTROOM and business is booming. Muggers, pimp, hookers, 
               their families and friends. In the scene that follows, a 
               constant counterpoint is what's going on up at the front as 
               an endless succession of petty criminals caught the previous 
               night, the aforementioned muggers, pimps, and hookers, are 
               shuttled in, given a quick appearance before a JUDGE who 
               sets bond, and then shuttled out.

               In the audience, one man stands out--DOUGLAS CADDY. He is 
               extremely well-dressed and obviously successful. Beside him 
               sits another smaller man, who is unshaven and squints. 
               WOODWARD moves in, sits alongside CADDY.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Mr. Caddy? My name's Bob Woodward, 
                         I'm from the Post and I wanted to 
                         ask about how you happened to come 
                         on this case--

                                     CADDY
                         --I'm not here.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (nods)
                         OK.

               He takes out a small notebook, writes, muttering aloud as he 
               does.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Douglas Caddy, the attorney of record, 
                         when questioned about his presence 
                         in the courtroom, denied he was in 
                         the courtroom, "I'm not here," Mr. 
                         Caddy said.

                                     CADDY
                              (impatiently)
                         Clearly, I am here, but only as an 
                         individual, I'm not the attorney of 
                         record.
                              (indicating unshaven 
                              man)
                         Mr. Rafferty has that position. 
                         Whatever you want, you'll have to 
                         get from him, I have nothing more to 
                         say.

               And as he gets up, walks off--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE WATER FOUNTAIN IN THE CORRIDOR. There is a small line. 
               CADDY waits at the end of it.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (moving in behind him)
                         Mr. Rafferty was very helpful. Four 
                         Cuban-Americans and this other man, 
                         James McCord.

                                     CADDY
                         Look, I told you inside--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --you have nothing more to say, I 
                         understand that.

               CADDY turns away; WOODWARD goes right on.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What I don't understand is how you 
                         got here.

                                     CADDY
                         I assure you, there's nothing 
                         mysterious involved.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Probably you're right, but a little 
                         while ago, I was talking to a couple 
                         of lawyers who'd been assigned to 
                         represent the burglars.

                                     CADDY
                         So?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Well, they never would have been 
                         assigned if anyone had known the 
                         burglars had arranged for their own 
                         counsel. And that could only mean 
                         the burglars didn't arrange for their 
                         own counsel--they never even made a 
                         phone call.
                              (looks at CADDY)
                         So if they didn't ask for you to be 
                         here, how did you know to come?

               Without a word, CADDY turns, leaves the line without getting 
               a drink. Silently, WOODWARD watches. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CADDY seated as before beside RAFFERTY. WOODWARD's voice 
               come from behind him, and as CADDY turns, WOODWARD is seated 
               one row back.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Did you know to come because one of 
                         the other men involved in the break-
                         in called you?

                                     CADDY
                              (turning)
                         There is no reason to assume other 
                         people were involved.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Your clients were arrested with a 
                         walkie-talkie; they didn't need that 
                         to talk among themselves.

               CADDY looks at WOODWARD, turns back.

                                     CADDY
                              (turning back)
                         They are not my clients.

                                     WOODWARD
                         You're a lawyer and you're here--

                                     CADDY
                         --I met one of the defendants, Mr. 
                         Barker, at a social occasion once--
                              (stops himself)
                         --I have nothing more to say.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (leaning forward as 
                              CADDY turns away 
                              again)
                         A Miami social occasion?
                              (explaining)
                         Mr. Rafferty told me the Cubans were 
                         from Miami.

                                     CADDY
                              (sighing)
                         Barker's wife called me at three 
                         this morning; her husband apparently 
                         had told her to call if he hadn't 
                         called her by then.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It was really nice of you to come, 
                         since you'd only met him once.

                                     CADDY
                         Are you implying you don't believe 
                         me?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I have nothing more to say.

                                     CADDY
                         You don't mind getting on people's 
                         nerves, do you?

               WOODWARD considers this a moment. Then--

                                     WOODWARD
                         Nope.

               And on that word--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE COURTROOM as without warning, it quiets. There is suddenly 
               a tremendous air of expectancy, you can feel it. Now we see 
               why as five men in dark business suits are led in; they've 
               been stripped of belts, ties, and shoelaces. McCord is taller 
               than the others. They stand, facing the JUDGE, backs to the 
               audience.

               WOODWARD sits watching as the proceedings start, but it's 
               hard to hear. He concentrates as the JUDGE starts speaking.

                                     JUDGE
                         Will you please state your 
                         professions.

               The five men do not move or reply. Then, after a long pause, 
               Barker says--

                                     BARKER
                         Anti-Communists.

                                     JUDGE
                         Anti-Communists?
                              (perplexed)
                         That, sir, is not your average 
                         occupation.

               WOODWARD starts moving forward now, down an aisle, moving 
               past kids and whores and all the rest, trying to hear what 
               the hell's going on. At the front of the spectator's section 
               is a fence-like wooden barricade about three feet high. As 
               he approaches it--

               The JUDGE indicates the bald burglar.

                                     JUDGE
                         Your name, please.

                                     MCCORD
                         James McCord.

                                     JUDGE
                         Will you step forward, sir.
                              (MCCORD obeys)

               WOODWARD at the bench is leaning forward, trying to hear but 
               it's hard.

                                     JUDGE
                         And what is your occupation, Mr. 
                         McCord?

                                     MCCORD
                              (softly)
                         Security consultant.

                                     JUDGE
                         Where?

                                     MCCORD
                              (softer)
                         Government. Recently retired.

                                     JUDGE
                         Where in government?

                                     MCCORD
                              (we can't really make 
                              this out)
                         ...Central... Intelligence... 
                         Agency...

                                     JUDGE
                              (he can't either)
                         Where?

                                     MCCORD
                              (clearing his throat)
                         The C.I.A.

               And on these words,

                                                                   ZOOM TO:

               CLOSE UP--WOODWARD leaning over the fence practically falling 
               over it in a desperate straining effort to catch what's going 
               on.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (stunned)
                         Holy shit.

               Now from the courtroom--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF WASHINGTON POSTS.

               We are at the end of the press run, the papers are all 
               assembled and being cabled and sent off by machine to various 
               places. As the papers continue to roll past--

               A UNION TYPE EMPLOYEE grabs a paper, looks at the front page.

               The Watergate story, headlined whatever it was headlined, is 
               visible. The byline was by Alfred E. Lewis. The union type 
               Post employee glances at the article--

                                     UNION POST EMPLOYEE
                              (reading half-aloud)
                         "Five men, one of whom said he is a 
                         former employee..."
                              (stops reading, gives 
                              a shrug)
                         Schmucks.

               And he turns happily to the sports section--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CLOSE UP OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS.

               It's new money and looks as if it's been recently ironed. 
               Someone is going through the cash, making a quick count. 
               During this--

                                     FIRST VOICE (V.O.)
                         Hurry it, huh, Bachinski?

                                     BACHINSKI
                         You said I could look at it--

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               We're in a room in a police station and two men are present. 
               One, a COP, is nervous as hell and constantly aware of the 
               door. The other, BACHINSKI, is taking hurried notes in a 
               reporter's type notebook as he examines the evidence.

                                     COP
                         --I said look, not memorize--

                                     BACHINSKI
                         --almost done, give it a rest, all 
                         right...
                              (and he looks at an 
                              address book, he 
                              stops)

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE ADDRESS BOOK. Beside the name "Howard E. Hunt" is the 
               notation "W.House." Now, BACHINSKI hurriedly opens the other 
               book to the letter "H" and there is the same name, "Howard 
               E. Hunt" and beside it, the letters, "W.H."

                                     COP (V.O.)
                         What'd you find?

                                     BACHINSKI (V.O.)
                         Beats me. These notebooks belonged 
                         to Cuban guys?

                                     COP (V.O.)
                         S'right.

                                     BACHINSKI (V.O.)
                         It's gotta mean either White House 
                         or whore house, one or the other.

               We HOLD on the HUNT name, and the address notations. Then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT.

               The phone rings, waking him. He fumbles for the phone and 
               the light, finally gets them both.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Bachinski?
                              (reaches for a notebook)
                         What?--hold it--
                              (gets it open, starts 
                              to write)
                         --OK, go on, go on...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A BOX OF MAALOX TABLETS.

               ROSENFELD is opening them, we're in his office, WOODWARD 
               sits across the desk, holding the notebook we saw him writing 
               in.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         ...go on, go on...

                                     WOODWARD
                         That's everything Bachinski had, I 
                         think it's worth following up.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Don't know; who the hell's Howard 
                         Hunt?
                              (crunches tablets)
                         It's probably nothing but check it 
                         out. Just go easy, it could be crazy 
                         Cubans.

               HOWARD SIMONS sticks his head in the office.

                                     SIMONS
                         Anything?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Woodward's onto a new wrinkle with 
                         the break-in thing--absolute page 
                         one stuff--

                                     SIMONS
                         --in other words, you got nothing, 
                         you're thumbsucking.

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (shrugs)
                         Could develop.

                                     SIMONS
                         Let me see what you get, but don't 
                         jump--The New York Times thinks it's 
                         crazy Cubans.

               He moves on. ROSENFELD turns quickly to WOODWARD.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         OK, get on this W.House guy and do a 
                         better job then you did on McCord.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I did all right on McCord.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Then how come the Associated Press 
                         were the ones found out that Mr. 
                         McCord is security coordinator for 
                         the Committee to Re-elect the 
                         President, otherwise known as CREEP?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (getting it straight)
                         The head of security for the 
                         reelection of a Republican President 
                         got caught bugging the national 
                         offices of the Democrats? What the 
                         hell does that mean?

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (hasn't the foggiest)
                         Mr. John Mitchell, the head of CREEP, 
                         says it means nothing.
                              (reads)
                         "...This man and the other people 
                         involved were not operating on either 
                         our behalf or with our consent. These 
                         is no place in our campaign or in 
                         the electoral process for this type 
                         of activity, and we will not forget 
                         it or condone it."

                                     WOODWARD
                              (getting up)
                         You can't believe that.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         As a rough rule of thumb, as far as 
                         I can throw Bronco Nagurski, that's 
                         how much I trust John Mitchell...

               Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MOON-FACED MAN RINGING A TRIANGLE.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE NEWSROOM as the triangle sound echoes.

               HOWARD SIMONS leaves large Managing Editor's office, walks 
               past another office, knocks twice on the glass wall.

               Inside the Executive Editor's office, BEN BRADLEE sits. As 
               SIMONS knocks, he turns, nods. He appears, for the moment, 
               deep in thought.

               HARRY ROSENFELD on the opposite end of the room hurries out 
               of his office, following a bunch of editors, all of them 
               heading across the huge room. As he passes WOODWARD's desk 
               ROSENFELD pauses.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         What'd you get on W.House?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (massaging his neck)
                         Lotsa hints--

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (not happy)
                         I can't sell hints to Simons--
                              (stops, looks at piece 
                              of yellow paper)
                         --you called everyone you know?
                              (WOODWARD makes a nod)
                         Call someone you don't know.

               WOODWARD continues to rub his neck as ROSENFELD hurries off, 
               all the editors still moving toward the place where the moon-
               faced man intermittently rings the triangle.

               WOODWARD picks up the sheet of yellow paper from his desk. 
               Lined, legal-sized, it is crammed with names and numbers and 
               addresses. They are in no neat order; looking at them it's 
               almost like following a path; chicken tracks in ink. WOODWARD 
               mutters "to hell with it" and reaches for a thick book, flips 
               it open.

               NOW WE SEE THE BOOK: It's the Washington Phone Directory and 
               we're in the W's. As WOODWARD's finger stops, we can see 
               he's looking at the White HOuse entry number. There it is, 
               just like your name and mine. Listed.

               Now WOODWARD starts to dial, visibly nervous, a fact he tries 
               very hard to keep out of his voice tone.

                                     WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.)
                         White House.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (casually)
                         Howard Hunt, please.

               Throughout the following call, we stay on WOODWARD's face, 
               hear the other voices.

                                     WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.)
                         Mr. Hunt does not answer.

               WOODWARD is delighted he's even there.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Thanks, anyway--

               And he's about to hang up, when--

                                     WHITE HOUSE OPERATOR (V.O.)
                         I'll bet he's in Mr. Colson's office. 
                         Let me connect you.

                                     SECRETARY (V.O.)
                         Charles Colson's wire.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (a little more excited)
                         Howard Hunt, please.

                                     SECRETARY (V.O.)
                         Mr. Hunt isn't here just now.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Thanks, anyway.

               And he's about to hang up again when--

                                     SECRETARY (V.O.)
                         Have you tried Mullen and Company 
                         Public Relations? He works at Mullen 
                         and Company Public Relations as a 
                         writer. The number is 555-1313. I'm 
                         sorry I couldn't be more helpful.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Listen, forget it.

               He hangs up, sits there. His hands are a little twitchy... 
               HOLD. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD hurrying (he always hurries) toward his office. 
               WOODWARD, looking for something in his desk throughout this 
               scene, speaks to him.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Who's Charles Colson?

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (stops dead)
                         I would liken your query to being in 
                         Russia half a century ago and asking 
                         someone, "I understand who Lenin is 
                         and Trotsky I got too, but who's 
                         this yokel Stalin?"

                                     WOODWARD
                         Who's Colson, Harry?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         The most powerful man in America is 
                         President Nixon, probably you've 
                         heard his name.

               WOODWARD, unfazed by anything, continues to open drawers, 
               close them, as ROSENFELD rolls on.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         The second most powerful man is Robert 
                         Haldeman. Just below him are a trio: 
                         Mr. Erlichman is Haldeman's friend, 
                         and they protect the President from 
                         everybody which is why they are 
                         referred to as either The German 
                         Shepherds or the Berlin Wall. Mr. 
                         Mitchell we've already discussed. 
                         Mr. Colson is the President's special 
                         counsel.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (rising)
                         Thanks, Harry.
                              (looks at ROSENFELD)
                         Know anything about Colson?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Just that on his office wall there's 
                         a cartoon with a caption reading, 
                         "When you've got them by the balls, 
                         their hearts and minds will follow."

               WOODWARD nods, heads back toward the files as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AT HIS DESK dialing the phone.

               He's got the Colson file spread out now, and we see pictures 
               of the man and articles the Post had done on him. But 
               basically what we see is WOODWARD plugging away on the goddamn 
               phone and you'd think his finger would fall off from all the 
               dialing and you know his voice is tiring as this montage 
               goes on, you can hear it grow raspy. But a lot of what a 
               reporter does he does on the phone, and that's what we're 
               compressing here. The dialing never stops, the voices are 
               continuous.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hello, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washing 
                         Post and...
                              (beat)
                         Mullen and Company Public Relations? 
                         Could you tell me when you expect 
                         Mr. Hunt?
                              (surprised)
                         He is?

                                     HUNT (V.O.)
                         Howard Hunt here.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and--

                                     HUNT (V.O.)
                              (impatient)
                         --yes, yes, what is it?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I was just kind of wondering why 
                         your name and phone number were in 
                         the address books of two of the men 
                         arrested at Watergate?

                                     HUNT (V.O.)
                              (blind panic)
                         Good God!

               And he bangs the phone down sharply--

               --more dialing SOUNDS. Now snatches of conversation--

                                     WOODWARD
                         I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Bennett, 
                         but we're doing some investigating 
                         of one of your employees, Howard 
                         Hunt.

                                     BENNETT (V.O.)
                         Well, if you've been doing some 
                         investigating then obviously it's no 
                         secret to you that Howard was with 
                         the C.I.A.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (he hadn't known)
                         No secret at all.

               More dialing. Then--

                                     WOODWARD
                              (tired, voice deeper)
                         Hello, C.I.A. This is R.W. Woodward, 
                         of the Washington Post--get me 
                         Personnel--

               Dialing again. WOODWARD's voice is showing genuine fatigue.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hi, I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington 
                         Post--and--what's that?--you've never 
                         heard of me?--I can't help that--you 
                         don't believe I'm with the Post?--
                         what do you want me to do, Madam, 
                         shout "extra--extra"?

               There is the SOUND of the phone being slammed down in his 
               ear. Hard. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD AND SIMONS approaching WOODWARD who is working at 
               his desk. He has put in a lot of hours on this and looks it.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Whaddya got, whaddya got?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hunt is Colson's man--
                              (to SIMONS, explaining)
                         --that's Charles Colson, Nixon's 
                         special counsel--
                              (SIMONS almost says 
                              something, decides 
                              against it)
                         --they both went to Brown University--
                              (consulting his notes)
                         --Hunt worked for the C.I.A. till 
                         '70, and this is on deep background, 
                         the FBI thinks he's involved with 
                         the break-in.

                                     SIMONS
                         What else have you got?

                                     WOODWARD
                         According to White House personnel, 
                         Hunt definitely works there as a 
                         consultant for Colson. But when I 
                         called the White House Press office, 
                         they said he hadn't worked there for 
                         three months. Then the P.R. guy said 
                         the weirdest thing to me.
                              (reading)
                         "I am convinced that neither Mr. 
                         Colson nor anyone else at the White 
                         House had any knowledge of, or 
                         participation in, this deplorable 
                         incident at the Democratic National 
                         Committee."

               He looks up at them.

                                     SIMONS
                         Isn't that what you'd expect them to 
                         say?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Absolutely.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         So?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (he's got something 
                              and he knows it)
                         I never asked them about Watergate. 
                         I only said what were Hunt's duties 
                         at the White House. They volunteered 
                         that he was innocent when nobody 
                         asked was he guilty.

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (to SIMONS)
                         I think we got a White House 
                         consultant linked to the bugging.

                                     SIMONS
                              (nods)
                         Just be careful how you write it.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD TYPING LIKE MAD, makes a mistake, corrects it, types 
               on muttering to himself, and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE munching a handful of Maalox tablets 
               and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD taking a sheet from his typewriter, hurrying off 
               and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD taking the sheet from WOODWARD--

                                     WOODWARD
                         Here's the first take--

               ROSENFELD nods, shows him out and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD BACK AT HIS MACHINE typing faster then before, makes 
               another mistake, starts to correct it, glances around and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD IN HIS OFFICE gesturing to somebody but not WOODWARD 
               and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD watching as BERNSTEIN appears in view from behind 
               the wide pillar by WOODWARD's desk, heads toward ROSENFELD's 
               office. WOODWARD shrugs, goes back to his typing, makes a 
               typo immediately, glances over toward ROSENFELD's office, 
               freezes as we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD handing some papers to BERNSTEIN. They look, from 
               this distance, suspiciously like WOODWARD's story.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN hurrying out of ROSENFELD's office, and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD watching BERNSTEIN until he disappears out of sight 
               behind the pillar. WOODWARD hesitates, finally goes back to 
               his typing, makes another mistake, fixes it, makes still 
               another, his temper is shortly to make itself known--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD as WOODWARD hands him another sheet of paper.

                                     WOODWARD
                         This is all of it, Harry.

               ROSENFELD NODS, takes it, immediately starts to read as we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AT HIS DESK watching as ROSENFELD gestures again. 
               There is a pause. Then BERNSTEIN appears from behind the 
               pillar and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD handing BERNSTEIN another sheet of paper. BERSTEIN 
               nods, takes it, walks back toward his desk, disappears behind 
               the pillar again. WOODWARD is starting to steam. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK typing magnificently, his hands rising 
               and falling like Rubinstein's. Behind him is the pillar and 
               for a moment there is nothing--then, very slowly, a figure 
               peers out from behind the pillar--it is WOODWARD.

               He watches. BERNSTEIN continues to type, then after a moment, 
               rests, thinks, shifts around in his chair and as his glance 
               starts toward the pillar--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is gone.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN typing madly away.

               THE PILLAR. WOODWARD is visible again, eyes very bright... 
               now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN finishing typing, his hands moving majestically. 
               WOODWARD comes up behind him, stands looking a second.

               Then--

                                     WOODWARD
                         We have to talk.

               BERNSTEIN nods, grabs the papers both that he's been typing 
               and that he's been copying from.

               And as he rises--

                                                                    PAN TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking silently out of the newsroom 
               then turning left down a darker corridor, passing bulletin 
               boards and wall lockers and it's all nice and quiet as they 
               amble on, nodding to the few people they pass on their way 
               and after a while they turn right and enter the coffee lounge 
               which is empty; the walls are lined with Norman Rockwell 
               reproductions and various kinds of vending machines are 
               visible, selling coffee or milk or fruit or sandwiches and 
               there are some plastic tables and chairs and the minute they 
               are alone, the silence ends.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What the hell were you doing rewriting 
                         my story--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --I sure couldn't hurt it, could I?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --it was fine the way it was--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --it was bullshit the way it was--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I have to stand here and listen to 
                         the staff correspondent from Virginia?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (a sore subject)
                         --what have you been here, nine 
                         months?--I been in this business 
                         since I was sixteen--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --and you've had some fucking meteoric 
                         rise, that's for sure--by the time 
                         you turn forty you might be the head 
                         of the Montana bureau--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --you only got the job because both 
                         you and Bradlee went to Yale--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --Bradlee went to Harvard--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --they're all the same, all those 
                         Ivy League places--they teach you 
                         about striped ties and suddenly you're 
                         smart--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I'm smart enough to know my story 
                         was solid--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --mine's better--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --no way--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (handing them over)
                         --read 'em both and you'll see--

               And as WOODWARD glances at the two stories--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN watching. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD. He glances from one story to the other. Then, 
               disconsolately--

                                     WOODWARD
                         ...crap...

               And he sinks down in a chair.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Is mine better?

               WOODWARD nods.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (handing the stories 
                              back)
                         What is it about my writing that's 
                         so rotten?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (as he exits)
                         Mainly it has to do with your choice 
                         of words.

               And as he goes, leaving WOODWARD just sitting there--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERSTEIN, re-entering the newsroom, returning to his desk. 
               He starts to insert some papers into his typewriter, 
               hesitates, lights a cigarette. He inhales, as, behind him, 
               WOODWARD briefly is visible going to his desk behind the 
               pillar.

               Finally BERNSTEIN inserts the paper, starts to type as

                                     WOODWARD (V.O.)
                              (from behind the pillar)
                         Carl?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (turns)
                         Yeah?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (pushing his chair 
                              briefly into view)
                         Fuck you, Carl.

               And as he rolls forward again, out of sight--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               RICHARD NIXON ON THE TUBE.

               (It's the June 22 Press Conference.) He talks on about 
               something, it doesn't matter exactly what here, the point 
               is, it should include that strange smile of his that kept 
               appearing when the man should not have been smiling. Hints 
               of pressure maybe, that's all, and once it's established--

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL:

               WOODWARD sitting alone, gloomily staring at the set. We're 
               in the Post Cafeteria, it's the next morning, and the place 
               is pretty much empty. He sips the coffee, it tastes rotten. 
               BERNSTEIN moves up behind him, carrying a cup of coffee of 
               his own. He stands by WOODWARD briefly.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You heard?
                              (WOODWARD glances up)
                         They put us both on the break-in 
                         thing. Simons liked the way we worked 
                         together.
                              (WOODWARD nods, 
                              BERNSTEIN sits down)
                         Listen, I'm sorry I said your story 
                         was bullshit.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It's OK; I'm sorry I called you a 
                         failure.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Forget it, the main thing--
                              (stops)
                         --did you call me a failure?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I was sure trying.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, AND NIXON. The way it's shot, it's almost 
               as if they're watching each other; NIXON staring out from 
               the TV set, answering questions. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sip 
               coffee. We don't know yet--or better, they don't know it 
               yet, but these are our adversaries.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, without NIXON now. They sit at the 
               table. Occasionally, NIXON is audible in the background.

                                     WOODWARD
                         All right, what do we know?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Let me lay a little theory on you--

                                     WOODWARD
                              (cutting him off)
                         --I'm not interested in theory. What 
                         do we know? For example, Hunt's 
                         disappeared.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Well, Barker tried to get blueprints 
                         of the Miami Convention Center and 
                         the air-conditioning system.

                                     WOODWARD
                         And McCord was carrying an application 
                         for college press credentials for 
                         the Democratic convention.
                              (to BERNSTEIN)
                         The Times has got to be full of it--
                         it can't be crazy Cubans.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What, though?
                              (points to Nixon)
                         It can't be the Republicans--he'd 
                         never allow something as stupid as 
                         this, not when he's gonna slaughter 
                         McGovern anyway.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Right. Nixon didn't get where he got 
                         by being dumb--
                              (stops abruptly)
                         --listen, that was a Watergate 
                         question--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               NIXON ON THE TUBE. Serious now.

                                     NIXON
                         The White House has had no involvement 
                         whatever in this particular incident.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN staring at the set thinking...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking toward BERSTEIN'S desk.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hey?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hmm.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What do you think he meant, this 
                         particular incident? Were there 
                         others? How would we find out? You 
                         know anyone important?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (sits, shakes his 
                              head)
                         I lived here all my life, I got a 
                         million contacts, but they're all 
                         bus boys and bellhops.

               The reporter KEN RINGLE at the next desk watches them a 
               moment. Then--

                                     RINGLE
                         What do you need?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Someone inside the White House would 
                         be nice.

                                     RINGLE
                              (writes down phone 
                              number)
                         Call her. She worked for Colson, if 
                         that's any help.

               As BERNSTEIN grabs for the phone--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A SECRETARIAL POOL IN A LARGE OFFICE.

               BERNSTEIN is talking off to one side with an attractive girl.

                                     GIRL
                         Kenny's crazy, I never worked for 
                         Colson, I worked for an assistant. 
                         Colson was big on secrets anyway. 
                         Even if I had worked for him, I 
                         wouldn't have known anything.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Nothing at all you can remember?

                                     SECRETARY
                              (headshake)
                         Sorry.
                              (pause)
                         Now if it was Hunt you were interested 
                         in--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --Howard Hunt?

                                     SECRETARY
                         Sure. Him I liked, he was a very 
                         nice person. Secretive too, traveled 
                         all over, but a decent man.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Any idea what he did?

                                     SECRETARY
                         Oh, the scuttlebutt for awhile was 
                         he was investigating Kennedy--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --Teddy Kennedy?

                                     SECRETARY
                         Sure. I remember seeing a book about 
                         Chappaquiddick on his desk and he 
                         was always getting material out of 
                         the White House Library and the 
                         Library of Congress and--

               And as she goes on, quickly--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE NEWSROOM.

               BERNSTEIN is at his desk, telephoning. WOODWARD stands 
               alongside.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         White House Library, please.

               We hear the other end of this phone call clearly.

                                     OPERATOR (V.O.)
                         One moment.

                                     LIBRARIAN (V.O.)
                              (elderly-sounding 
                              lady)
                         Library.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hi. Carl Bernstein of the Washington 
                         Post. I was just wondering if you 
                         remember the names of any of the 
                         books that Howard Hunt checked out 
                         on Senator Kennedy.

                                     LIBRARIAN (V.O.)
                         I think I do remember, he took out a 
                         whole bunch of material. Let me just 
                         go see.

               SOUND of the phone being laid down.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --what do you think?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --Hunt doesn't seem like your ordinary 
                         consultant.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Maybe a political operative of some 
                         sort--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --a spy, you mean?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         It makes sense; Hunt worked for the 
                         C.I.A. and the White House was 
                         paranoid about Teddy Kennedy.

                                     LIBRARIAN (V.O.)
                         Mr. Bernstein?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Yes, ma'am.

                                     LIBRARIAN (V.O.)
                         What I said before? I was wrong. The 
                         truth is, I don't have a card that 
                         Mr. Hunt took out any Kennedy 
                         material.
                              (WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN 
                              listen, and now there 
                              is something in her 
                              voice that wasn't 
                              there before: fear)
                         I remember getting that material out 
                         for somebody, but it wasn't Mr. Hunt. 
                         The truth is, I've never had any 
                         requests at all from Mr. Hunt.
                              (beat)
                         The truth is, I don't know Mr. Hunt.

               There is the SOUND of the phone being dropped into its cradle. 
               BERNSTEIN continues to hold his. He and WOODWARD just look 
               at each other. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.

               Now, as WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN get out of a cab, start inside--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MALE LIBRARIAN IN HIS OFFICE.

                                     LIBRARIAN
                         You want all the material requested 
                         by the White House?

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN standing there. The nod. One of them 
               maybe says "yessir," the other maybe "please." The LIBRARIAN 
               moves out of his office into a corridor. They go with him. 
               No one else is around. The LIBRARIAN looks at them, quickly--

                                     LIBRARIAN
                         All White House transactions are 
                         confidential.

               And just like that, he's back into his office, and as he 
               shuts the door--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN walking along through the Library of 
               Congress.

                                     WOODWARD
                         You think they are confidential? I 
                         don't know anything about how this 
                         town works, I haven't lived here a 
                         year yet.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We need a sympathetic face.

               On the word "face"--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A BEARDED YOUNG-LOOKING CLERK. We're in the reading room of 
               the library, and WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN are with him.

                                     YOUNG CLERK
                         You want every request since when?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (to WOODWARD)
                         When did Hunt start at the White 
                         House?

                                     WOODWARD
                         July of '71.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         About the past year.

                                     CLERK
                              (starts to smile)
                         I'm not sure you want 'em, but I got 
                         'em.

               Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN seated at a table with from anywhere 
               between 10 to 20 thousand slips of paper. In front of them, 
               seated at a high desk, the bearded clerk looks down on them, 
               shaking his head. It's a staggering amount of work to thumb 
               through.

                                     CLERK
                         I can't believe you guys are actually 
                         doing this.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (to the clerk)
                         You do a lot of things when you're 
                         on a story.
                              (to BERNSTEIN, quietly)
                         Can you believe we're actually doing 
                         this?
                              (BERNSTEIN can't)

               Now we have a series of shots of the two of them going through 
               the slips; it took them hours and hours, and the afternoon 
               darkened as they worked. And they're tired. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN getting back into a cab.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         That was fun.
                              (slams the door)
                         What now?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I met a Presidential aide once at a 
                         social occasion.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (stunned)
                         And you haven't called him?--

               As the taxi pulls off--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD

               reading an article by BERNSTEIN's desk. WOODWARD sits on an 
               adjacent desk.

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (to BERNSTEIN)
                         You got accurate notes on the White 
                         House librarian?
                              (BERNSTEIN nods)
                         OK, we'll leave space for the White 
                         House denial and we should be set.

               Suddenly he gestures and we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE STANDING ACROSS THE ROOM. Without a nod, he moves 
               toward ROSENFELD.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, nervously watching BRADLEE come. As 
               soon as BRADLEE is within earshot, ROSENFELD starts his sell.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Benjy, we got a present for you. 
                         Above the fold on page one for sure. 
                         It may not change our lives one way 
                         or the other. Just a good, solid 
                         piece of American Journalism--
                              (beat)
                         --that The New York Times doesn't 
                         have.

               BRADLEE by this time has taken the story, grabbed an 
               unoccupied chair, sat down, started to read. His only response 
               to ROSENFELD is an intermittent "uh-huh, uh-huh."

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN, watching as the silence goes on. 
               ROSENFELD too. He wants the story too, but he doesn't want 
               it like WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN do. They were, as they said, 
               proud of their work. The silence goes on. Finally BRADLEE 
               looks up.

                                     BRADLEE
                         You haven't got it.
                              (before they can reply)
                         A librarian and a secretary say Hunt 
                         looked at a book.
                              (shakes his head)
                         Not good enough.

               He begins editing the piece, slashing paragraphs out of it.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I was told by this guy at the White 
                         House that Hunt was investigating 
                         Teddy Kennedy.

                                     BRADLEE
                         How senior?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (edgy)
                         You asking me to disclose my source?

               Other reporters are watching now. BRADLEE is impatient, as 
               always.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Just tell me his title.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I don't know titles.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Is he on the level of Assistant to 
                         the President or not?

               WOODWARD doesn't know. BRADLEE continues to hack at their 
               piece. Done, he stands, walks away.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Get some harder information next 
                         time.

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN watch him go, they are embarrassed, 
               angry, crushed. HOLD on their faces. Then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD'S APARTMENT - MORNING

               He is in pajamas and lugging a flower pot out to the balcony, 
               positioning it so it would be visible to anyone passing in 
               the alley below. He takes a stick with a red flag, jams it 
               into the flower pot. He's nervous and he makes several 
               adjustments, making sure the red flag is secure and won't 
               fall.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD down in the alley, staring up at his apartment. The 
               flag is clearly visible. It's early. He checks his watch, 
               hurries out of the alley.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE CITY ROOM - NIGHT

               Deserted except for a few older Front Page types, reporters 
               whose legs have given out, playing cards in a corner of the 
               room. WOODWARD is working at his desk until he glances up at 
               a wall clock. It's almost one on the button and as he rises--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD racing down the stairway of the Post; as he hits 
               the lobby, he turns and we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               OUTSIDE THE POST - NIGHT

               WOODWARD appears in the side exit, walks off. When he gets 
               out of sight of the paper, he starts to run. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD turning a corner, running on. Up ahead is a cab--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD IN THE CAB sitting forward tensely. Occasionally, 
               various monuments are briefly visible, lit up in the b.g. 
               WOODWARD takes out some money as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE CAB stopping. WOODWARD pays, gets out. The cab pulls 
               away. When it is out of sight, WOODWARD starts to run again.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A STREET as WOODWARD runs by. It's not the nicest area in 
               the world. He is going faster now.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CAB GASSING UP AT A STATION. WOODWARD hurries to it, gets 
               in and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SECOND CAB roaring along some Washington streets.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD INSIDE THE CAB. He looks at his watch, tries not to 
               seem nervous. But his fingers are drumming, drumming and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SECOND CAB stopping, as WOODWARD gets out, pays. The cab 
               starts off, but slowly. WOODWARD waits. The cab doesn't turn 
               as the first one did. WOODWARD still waits. Finally the cab 
               turns and the second it does, WOODWARD starts to run again 
               and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD turning a corner, running on and--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER CORNER as WOODWARD turns it, finally stops and catches 
               his breath as we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A GIGANTIC UNDERGROUND TYPE GARAGE

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD ENTERING THE GARAGE. It's an eerie place, and his 
               heels make noise and if you wonder is he edgy, yes he's edgy. 
               He comes to the ramp leading down to lower levels, hesitates.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE RAMP. It seems to descend forever.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD starting down. HOLD on him as he walks. Down he 
               goes, the shadows deepening, then disappearing, then covering 
               him again. He continues on. He must be at least at the first 
               underground level now but he doesn't stop, and we don't stop 
               watching him as he continues to go down, turning, the SOUND 
               of his shoes softer now and he's a smaller figure as we watch 
               him circle around and around until we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER LEVEL UNDERGROUND. Dimly lit. A few cars parked here 
               and there. WOODWARD hesitates on the ramp, looks around.

               THE GARAGE. Dark, dark, eerie.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD quietly stepping off the ramp, continuing to glance 
               this way, that way. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               TWO CARS PARKED BESIDE EACH OTHER.

               Nothing unusual about that. But then some cigarette smoke 
               appears, trailing up and disappearing from between the cars. 
               As WOODWARD moves forward--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MAN SITTING ON HIS HAUNCHES BETWEEN THE CARS, smoking. He 
               leans with his back against the wall.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         I saw the flag signal--what's up?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Nothing, that's the problem--the 
                         story's gone underground.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         You thought I'd help out on specifics?
                              (headshake)
                         I'll confirm what you get, try to 
                         keep you on the right track, but 
                         that's all.
                              (looks at WOODWARD)
                         Are you guys really working?
                              (WOODWARD nods)
                         How much?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I don't know maybe sixteen, eighteen 
                         hours a day--we've got sources at 
                         Justice, the FBI, but it's still 
                         drying up.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Then there must be something, mustn't 
                         there. Look, forget the myths the 
                         media's created about the White House--
                         the truth is, these are not very 
                         bright guys, and things got out of 
                         hand.

                                     WOODWARD
                         If you don't like them, why won't 
                         you be more concrete with me?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Because the press stinks too--history 
                         on the run, that's all you're 
                         interested in.
                              (inhales)
                         You come up with anything?

                                     WOODWARD
                         John Mitchell resigned as head of 
                         CREEP to spend more time with his 
                         family. That doesn't exactly have 
                         the ring of truth.
                              (DEEP THROAT nods)
                         Howard Hunt's been found--there was 
                         talk that his lawyer had 25 thousand 
                         in cash in a paper bag.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Follow the money. Always follow the 
                         money.

                                     WOODWARD
                         To where?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                              (shakes his head "no")
                         Go on.

                                     WOODWARD
                         This man Gordon Liddy--he's going to 
                         be tried along with Hunt and the 
                         five burglars--we know he knows a 
                         lot, we just don't know what.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                              (lights a new cigarette)
                         You changed cabs? You're sure no one 
                         followed you?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I did everything you said, but it 
                         all seemed--

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         --melodramatic?
                              (headshakes)
                         Things are past that--remember, these 
                         are men with switchblade mentalities 
                         who run the world as if it were Dodge 
                         City.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What's the whole thing about--do you 
                         know?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         What I know, you'll have to find out 
                         on your own.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Liddy--you think there's a chance 
                         he'll talk?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Talk? Once, at a gathering, he put 
                         his hand over a candle. And he kept 
                         it there. He kept it right in the 
                         flame until his flesh seared. A woman 
                         who was watching asked, "What's the 
                         trick?" And he replied. "The trick 
                         is not minding."

               DEEP THROAT shakes his head, walks off. WOODWARD stands alone 
               now, watching. Now the shadows have the other man. Just his 
               footsteps are audible. WOODWARD stands there... HOLD.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN.

               It's morning and he's struggling to get his bike down the 
               steps of his apartment building.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD driving up in his two-year-old red Karmann Ghia. He 
               roars up alongside BERNSTEIN, waving a folded-up newspaper.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What's that?

                                     WOODWARD
                         The fucking New York Times.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               The Times spread somewhat tentatively over a mailbox. A small 
               headline is visible, with the words "Barker," "Liddy," and 
               "Telephone" in some kind of order. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN 
               look at it the best they can.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Goddamnit--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --see?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --I'm trying--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --fifteen phone calls--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         ---fifteen or more phone calls from 
                         the burglars in Miami to Gordon Liddy 
                         at CREEP--

                                     WOODWARD
                         Why didn't we get that?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Christ, and I even know somebody at 
                         the phone company--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --you do?--with access to records?

               As BERNSTEIN nods--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A LITTLE CITY PARK.

               A guy shells peanuts. BERNSTEIN hurries up.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Why couldn't you have just dialed me 
                         from the office, Irwin?

                                     IRWIN
                         'Cause I'm not calling out from the 
                         phone company anymore--
                              (drops his voice)
                         --I think the place is bugged.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (taking some peanuts)
                         So tell me about the Times article.

                                     IRWIN
                         What do you want to know?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         No games, Irwin; give.

                                     IRWIN
                              (looks at BERNSTEIN)
                         My big civil rights buddy--
                              (shakes his head)
                         --boy, if John Mitchell was after 
                         your phone records, would you be 
                         screaming.
                              (eats)
                         What're you onto?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Something maybe big.

                                     IRWIN
                         And that makes anything you do OK, 
                         is that it?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Just tell me about the goddamn 
                         article.

                                     IRWIN
                              (shelling away)
                         It was accurate, but I can't get a 
                         fuller listing for you--all Barker's 
                         phone records have been subpoenaed.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Who by?

                                     IRWIN
                         A Miami D.A. The guy doing the 
                         investigating is named Martin Dardis.
                              (finishes his peanuts, 
                              starts off)

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Irwin? I really feel bad, doing 
                         something like this--you know that, 
                         don't you?

               IRWIN looks at BERNSTEIN for a long time. then--

                                     IRWIN
                         Don't give me any more of your liberal 
                         shit, OK, Carl?

               He walks off, doesn't look back. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD

               at the water fountain on the 5th floor. He chews up a few 
               Maalox tablets, notices BERNSTEIN steaming up.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Harry, I just talked to a Miami 
                         investigator about Barker--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --so?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I think it might be helpful if you'd 
                         send me to Miami.

               ROSENFELD heads for his office, BERNSTEIN pursuing.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         I'm the one sent you to Toronto, 
                         Bernstein--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (trying to head him 
                              off)
                         --that was awhile ago--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --"I think it might be helpful if 
                         you'd send me to Toronto." That was 
                         your spiel then. "The Lifestyles of 
                         Deserters."
                              (whirls on BERNSTEIN)
                         I'm still waiting for it.

               He enters his office, BERNSTEIN follows.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Down to Miami and back--how much 
                         damage can I do?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         You're the fella who forgot he rented 
                         a Hertz car, do I have to tell you 
                         they didn't forget to send us the 
                         bill?

               And he looks unsympathetically at BERNSTEIN--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               SIMONS circling around the 5th floor. ROSENFELD falls into 
               step. They keep moving throughout.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         I can predict the next words you're 
                         gonna say: "anyone but Bernstein."
                              (SIMONS gestures for 
                              ROSENFELD to continue)
                         I want to send a reporter to Miami.

                                     SIMONS
                         Anyone but Bernstein.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Howard--

                                     SIMONS
                         --remember Toronto, Harry.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         That was awhile ago.

                                     SIMONS
                         I don't get it--you were the one who 
                         wanted to fire him.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         I know, I did, but damnit Howard--
                              (SIMONS looks at him)
                         For the first time since I've known 
                         him, I think he's really humping...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN'S APARTMENT.

               A shambles. He is busy doing two things at once, studying 
               notebooks and packing. Music plays, lovely stuff; the Bach 
               Brandenburgs. As the phone rings--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (answering)
                         Yeah?
                              (pause)
                         Yes, this is Carl Bernstein.
                              (stunned)
                         You're repossessing my bicycle?
                              (softer)
                         Listen, I'm sure I paid this month's 
                         installment, so why don't you check 
                         your records before you go around 
                         hassling people?
                              (pause)
                         Oh...

               And as he stands there--

               AN ATTRACTIVE, EFFICIENT-LOOKING WOMAN of BERNSTEIN's age. 
               She has just entered the apartment. Vivaldi is playing now.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hannah, I never would have bothered 
                         you but I'm off to Miami and they're 
                         gonna take away my ten speed unless 
                         I get it straightened out fast.

                                     HANNAH
                              (glancing around the 
                              chaos)
                         Where are your bills, Carl?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Oh, they're here.
                              (starts lifting debris 
                              from his desk)
                         I'm keeping much better records now, 
                         Hannah.
                              (grabbing a big manila 
                              envelope)
                         See?
                              (hands it to her)

                                     HANNAH
                              (looks inside)
                         Carl, it's a jungle.
                              (sits at his desk, 
                              takes out a mass of 
                              papers--glancing at 
                              the top bill)
                         I suggest you either pay this 
                         immediately or lay in a large supply 
                         of candles.
                              (studies another bill)
                         You'd give a stranger the shirt off 
                         your back--except it wouldn't be 
                         paid for.

               He smiles, gently begins massaging her shoulders as she 
               studies his finances.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hey... very tense.

                                     HANNAH
                              (nods)
                         Lot of pressure at the Star.
                              (looking at the bills)
                         Carl, when we got married, you were 
                         four thousand dollars in debt; when 
                         we split, you were solvent. That may 
                         prove to be the outstanding single 
                         achievement of my life, and now look 
                         at this.
                              (sighs)
                         How much did the damn bike cost?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Five hundred; six maybe.

                                     HANNAH
                              (looking at paper)
                         You're two months behind--you got 
                         enough to cover?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I think.

                                     HANNAH
                         Give me your checkbook then.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         It's right under that pile.

               He indicates a mound of papers. She pulls it out as he 
               continues to massage her, more sensually now. She reaches 
               back, puts her hand on his.

                                     HANNAH
                         I thought you had to get to Miami.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         There's always a later plane.

                                     HANNAH
                         You're a sex junkie, you know that, 
                         Carl?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Nobody's perfect.
                              (more rubbing now)
                         I'm glad you're out of it, Hannah--
                         you're a terrific reporter and I 
                         turned you into a bookkeeper.

               HANNAH looks at BERNSTEIN a moment; then she smiles gently, 
               shakes her head.

                                     HANNAH
                         Aw baby, you can get it up... I just 
                         wonder if you'll ever be able to get 
                         it together.

               And quickly from that--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN

               seated perspiring on a hard bench in a stifling office. 
               Outside: palm trees; we're in Miami. And judging from the 
               number of cigarette butts strewn around the bench, BERNSTEIN's 
               been there a while. Waiting. Nervous. And maybe he never 
               will be able to get it together, who knows.

               At the front, a SECRETARY sits filing her nails. Behind her 
               are a number of closed doors to offices. No one passes without 
               her OK. The clock hits three in the afternoon as BERNSTEIN 
               gets up from the bench, goes to the SECRETARY.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hi, it's me. I'm still here.

                                     SECRETARY
                              (couldn't be nicer)
                         I'm so glad.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I'd really like to see Mr. Dardis.

                                     SECRETARY
                         And you will.
                              (smiles)
                         But not now.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I called him from Washington. He's 
                         the one who asked me to be here at 
                         eleven in the morning.

                                     SECRETARY
                         I told you, he had to go out on a 
                         case.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE BENCH as BERNSTEIN slumps back down. He wipes his forehead 
               with his sleeve, smokes a fresh cigarette, is kind of 
               interested when a UNIFORMED COP walks up to the SECRETARY, 
               who is now putting red polish on her nails.

                                     UNIFORMED COP
                         Is it OK to go on back?

               She nods.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN watching as the cop walks past the SECRETARY, enters 
               an office behind.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE CLOCK ON THE WALL. IT'S QUARTER OF FOUR NOW.

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               BERNSTEIN, approaching the SECRETARY again. She is working 
               on her right hand now.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Could you reach Mr. Dardis by car 
                         radio?

                                     SECRETARY
                         He is not in the car.
                              (Smiles; she's just 
                              so understanding)
                         Sorry.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER UNIFORMED COP walking by the SECRETARY's desk.

                                     SECOND COP
                         Hey, babe.

               He enters the same office the first COP did.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN. He lights another cigarette, puts it out, then 
               lights another.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SECRETARY

               finishing her manicure. It is almost five o'clock now. 
               BERNSTEIN, his bench a sea of cigarette butts, slowly gets 
               up and goes to the SECRETARY.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Mr. Dardis does call in every so 
                         often?

                                     SECRETARY
                         Well of course.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (quietly)
                         Good. Just tell him I was here, that 
                         I'm sorry I missed him--

               He walks out the double doors.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN IN HALLWAY. He looks down the hall. At the end, 
               opposite the SECRETARY's reception room, is a big glass door 
               with a sign reading: Office of the Dade County Clerk. 
               BERNSTEIN goes into a phone booth in the corridor from which 
               he can see both offices. He puts in a dime, and dials.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Mr. Dardis' office, please.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               SECRETARY. The phone RINGS and she punches the button on the 
               phone console.

                                     SECRETARY
                         Mr. Dardis' office.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN in phone booth.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         This is Mr. Tomlinson in the clerk's 
                         office. Could you come across the 
                         hall for a moment? We've got some 
                         documents your boss probably should 
                         see.

               He hangs up.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN watching from phone booth as the SECRETARY hurries 
               across the hallway. As we see her open the door of the clerk's 
               office, BERNSTEIN bolts out of the phone booth and runs into 
               the reception room heading straight for the SECRETARY's desk.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN at her desk, looking at the telephone console, 
               receiver in hand. He punches the button marked Intercom and 
               we can hear it BUZZ somewhere.

                                     VOICE (V.O.)
                         Dardis.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Carl Bernstein's here to see you--I 
                         don't know why, but he seems angry--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DARDIS emerging through one of the doors behind BERNSTEIN. 
               BERNSTEIN see him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (to DARDIS)
                         Look, you've been jerking my chain 
                         all day. If there's some reason you 
                         can't talk to me--like the fact that 
                         you've already leaked everything to 
                         The New York Times--just say so.

                                     DARDIS
                         Listen, I've got a dinner--can't we 
                         do this tomorrow?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (headshake)
                         I'm on deadline.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DARDIS' OFFICE. He is fiddling with a combination lock at a 
               filing cabinet. BERNSTEIN is seated across DARDIS' desk.

                                     DARDIS
                         You want Barker's phone stuff or his 
                         money stuff?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Whatever.

               He hands BERNSTEIN some papers, glances at his watch.

                                     DARDIS
                         I'll never get out of here in time.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (flying through what 
                              he's been handed)
                         The telephone calls... we know about 
                         that.

                                     DARDIS
                         The rest is Barker's bank records. 
                         It's mostly the eighty-nine thousand 
                         in Mexican cashier's checks--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --yeah, that was in The Times this 
                         morning.

               BERNSTEIN continues to fly through the papers.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (continuing stops)
                         What's this Dahlberg check?

               And as it's mentioned--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--CASHIER'S CHECK. It's drawn on the First Bank and 
               Trust Company of Boca Raton, Florida, it's dated April 10 
               and it's for 25 thousand dollars, payable to the order to 
               Kenneth H. Dahlberg.

                                     DARDIS' VOICE
                         That the twenty-five grand one?--
                         Don't know--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN starting to copy the check in a meticulous 
               facsimile. DARDIS watches.

                                     DARDIS
                         I never could figure just who this 
                         Dahlberg was.
                              (watching BERNSTEIN)
                         Think it might be anything?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (casually)
                         This?
                              (shrugs)
                         Naw...

               And from here quickly--

                                                                   ZOOM TO:

               BERNSTEIN IN A PHONE BOOTH in the lobby of the Justice 
               Building. Wildly excited--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --Woodward--Woodward, listen, I don't 
                         know what I got--
                              (holding the Dahlberg 
                              facsimile)
                         --and I think the Times has it too--
                              (big)
                         --but somewhere there's a Kenneth H. 
                         Dahlberg in this world and we've 
                         gotta find him--

               And now comes

               THE HUNT FOR DAHLBERG.

               This is a compressed montage sequence in which we CUT from 
               one reporter to the other, both of them desperately trying 
               to locate a man names DAHLBERG.

               WOODWARD is maybe in the reference room of the Post, sweating, 
               surrounded by Who's Who and Dictionary of American Biographies 
               and phone books from dozens and dozens of cities--

               BERNSTEIN is maybe in the phone booth of the Justice Building, 
               sweating, with a pile of dimes as he dials away.

               This took them hours, and that effort should be visible to 
               us. They tire, grow punchy, but they keep on, checking phone 
               book and dialing numbers and God knows what else. The point 
               is, we want to get to DAHLBERG in a reasonably short amount 
               of time, but we also want people to know there was effort 
               involved.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD, bleary, in the reference room, a girl comes in, a 
               researcher librarian type.

                                     RESEARCHER
                         Were you after the Dahlberg articles 
                         from the files?
                              (WOODWARD nods)
                         There aren't any, sorry.

               And now she drops a piece of paper, a photo--

                                     WOODWARD
                         Whazzis?

                                     RESEARCHER
                              (shrugs)
                         Our Dahlberg file.

               As she leaves--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               The photo.

               It is a picture of Hubert Humphrey standing next to another 
               man. The caption identifies that other man as KENNETH 
               DAHLBERG. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AT HIS DESK.

               The room is reasonably quiet. ROSENFELD is visible in his 
               office. As WOODWARD picks up the phone, gets Minneapolis 
               information--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ROSENFELD'S PHONE RINGING. He hurries in, grabs it.

                                     BERNSTEIN'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         Harry--I know how to get Dahlberg--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --Woodward's talking to him know.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN, drenched. There are no dimes left. He listens a 
               moment more, then nods, hangs up, leans back against the 
               glass, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD on the phone.

                                     WOODWARD
                         --this should take only a minute, 
                         Mr. Dahlberg, but we're doing a follow-
                         up on the break-in--
                              (pause)
                         --and I was kind of curious about 
                         your check.

                                     DAHLBERG (V.O.)
                         ...check...?

                                     WOODWARD
                         The twenty-five thousand dollar one.
                              (silence)
                         The one with your name on it.
                              (silence)
                         In Bernard Barker's Florida account.
                              (still nothing)
                         Bernard Barker, the Watergate burglar--

                                     DAHLBERG (V.O.)
                              (struggling)
                         ...you're definitely doing a story...?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Yes, sir.

                                     DAHLBERG (V.O.)
                         I'm a proper citizen, I'm a decent 
                         man, I don't do anything that isn't 
                         decent or proper.
                              (WOODWARD waits, pen 
                              ready; tense as hell)
                         I know I shouldn't tell you this...

               WOODWARD's lips are going "tell me, tell me."

                                     DAHLBERG (V.O.)
                         That twenty-five thousand dollars is 
                         money I collected for Nixon in this 
                         year's campaign.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I see. And how do you think it reached 
                         Miami?

                                     DAHLBERG (V.O.)
                         I don't know; I really don't. The 
                         last time I saw it was when I was in 
                         Washington. I gave it to the Finance 
                         department of the Committee to Re-
                         Elect the President. How it got to 
                         that burglar, your guess is as good 
                         as mine.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (trying to keep his 
                              voice level)
                         That checks out with our finding, 
                         thank you, Mr. Dahlberg.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               AN ARTICLE WITH WOODWARD'S NAME ON THE BYLINE.

               ROSENFELD holds it.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         CREEP financed the Watergate break-
                         in, Jesus Christ.

               He starts off.

                                     WOODWARD
                         One sec'--

               WOODWARD takes the story, scrawls BERNSTEIN's name in front 
               of his on the byline. ROSENFELD watches. As WOODWARD finishes, 
               he takes the story again, hurries off. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE HEADLINE OF THEIR STORY:

               "Campaign Funds Found in Watergate Burglar's Account."

               Now--

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               that it isn't exactly a gigantic headline piece. As a matter 
               of fact, as more and more of page one appears, we see that 
               their story is tucked away at the bottom and as bigger and 
               bigger headlines are visible--

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               --the whole first page. Plastered across the top in giant 
               letters is the following: "EAGLETON RESIGNS." And as you 
               look at the whole page now, you can barely make out the tiny 
               piddling Watergate story. The point is abundantly clear: 
               nobody cared a whole lot.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TRIANGLE

               being rung like crazy. And as it SOUNDS--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE BUDGET MEETING

                                     SIMONS
                         --OK, last go-round. Foreign, anything 
                         else?

               The foreign editor, an enormously thoughtful-looking and 
               respected man, indicates "no."

                                     SIMONS
                              (to another editor)
                         National?

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         I'll stand with the Eagleton follow-
                         ups and McGovern not being able to 
                         get a replacement--that's your page 
                         one stuff right there, Howard--

                                     SIMONS
                         --Metropolitan?--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --you are ignoring the importance of 
                         the Dahlberg repercussions--

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         --nobody gives a shit about the 
                         Dahlberg repercussions--

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (to NATIONAL EDITOR)
                         --quit equivocating, say what you 
                         mean--
                              (to SIMONS and BRADLEE)
                         --our story got Government Accounting 
                         to start an audit on CREEP's finances--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --and we printed that, didn't we, 
                         Harry? And when the frigging audit's 
                         done, we'll print that too--

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         --let me tell what happened when I 
                         was having lunch today at the Sans 
                         Souci--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --correction--when you were drinking 
                         your lunch at the bar of the Sans 
                         Souci--

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         --this White House guy, a good one, 
                         a pro, came up and asked what is 
                         this Watergate compulsion with you 
                         guys and I said, well, we think it's 
                         important and he said, if it's so 
                         goddamn important, who the hell are 
                         Woodward and Bernstein?

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Ask him what he's really saying--he 
                         means take the story away from 
                         Woodstein and give it to his people 
                         at the National Desk--

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         --well, I've got some pretty 
                         experienced fellas sitting around, 
                         wouldn't you say so?--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --absolutely--and that's all they 
                         do, sit sit sit--every once in a 
                         while, they call up a Senator, some 
                         reporting--

                                     NATIONAL EDITOR
                         --well, what if your boys get it 
                         wrong--

                                     BRADLEE
                              (after a beat)
                         Then it's our asses, isn't it?

                                     SIMONS
                              (indicates the meeting 
                              is over)
                         And we'll all have to go to work for 
                         a living.

               As the men rise and head for the door, the FOREIGN EDITOR 
               moves toward BRADLEE and SIMONS who remain seated as before.

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         I don't think either Metropolitan or 
                         National should cover the story.
                              (BRADLEE and SIMONS 
                              look at him)
                         I don't think we should cover the 
                         story, period.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Go on.

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         It's not that we're using unnamed 
                         sources that bothers me, or that 
                         everything we print the White House 
                         denies, or that almost no other papers 
                         are reprinting our stuff.

                                     SIMONS
                         What then?

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         I don't believe the goddamn story, 
                         Howard, it doesn't make sense.

                                     BRADLEE
                         It will, it just hasn't bottomed out 
                         yet, give it time.

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         Ben, Jesus, there are over two 
                         thousand reporters in this town, are 
                         there five on Watergate? Where did 
                         we suddenly get all this wisdom?

               BRADLEE and SIMONS say nothing. They respect this guy.

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         Look--why would the Republicans do 
                         it? --my God, McGovern is self-
                         destructing before our eyes--just 
                         like Muskie did, Humphrey, the bunch 
                         of 'em.
                              (sits on the table, 
                              talks quietly on)
                         Why would the burglars have put the 
                         tape around the door instead of up 
                         and down unless they wanted to get 
                         caught? Why did they take a walkie-
                         talkie and then turn it off, unless 
                         they wanted to get caught? Why would 
                         they use McCord--the only direct 
                         contact to the Republicans?

                                     BRADLEE
                         You saying the Democrats bugged 
                         themselves?

                                     FOREIGN EDITOR
                         The FBI thinks it's possible--the 
                         Democrats need a campaign issue, 
                         corruption's always a good one.
                              (rises, starts out)
                         Get off the story, Ben--or put some 
                         people on McGovern's finances; fair 
                         is fair, even in our business.

               He leaves. BRADLEE and SIMONS stay where they are, both of 
               them flattened by what the guy's said. Because they're not 
               sure he's wrong... HOLD. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE PAPERS POURING OUT OF THE ASSEMBLY LINE.

               We're back with the UNION GUY from before. He pulls out a 
               paper again, looks at a story on the front page--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE WOODWARD/BERNSTEIN STORY that said the GAO found that 
               CREEP has mishandled over $500,000 in campaign funds.

                                     UNION GUY
                              (to another UNION GUY 
                              who's reading over 
                              his shoulder)
                         What'd'ya think?

                                     SECOND UNION GUY
                         Politics as usual, someone just got 
                         caught with his hand in the cookie 
                         jar, that's all.

                                     UNION GUY
                              (he's not so sure)
                         Big fuckin' cookie jar.

               As he turns to the sports section--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               GETTING THE CREEP LIST SEQUENCE.

               Either they get it as it is now, or as they really did, from 
               a Post researcher who knew someone. In ant case, we see the 
               list, with the columns of names and numbers meaning offices 
               and phone extensions.

               We also see the two of them working, first, making long 
               attempts at figuring out who worked for whom at CREEP.

               Then, once they have that, they begin using the cross-
               reference phone books, which are not familiar to moviegoers. 
               And from these, they begin to get the home addresses of the 
               various small-fry people who work for CREEP.

               Near the end alphabetically, there is a common female name, 
               Jane Smith or something like that. As BERNSTEIN runs his 
               finger down the addresses, something strikes him as familiar, 
               and as he reaches for the phone--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CRUMMY-LOOKING BAR - MID-DAY.

               BERNSTEIN enters, looks around, then smiles and moves to a 
               lovely girl with a sweet face who probably weighs 200 pounds. 
               She is sitting alone in a corner booth. She nods to BERNSTEIN, 
               can't quite pull off a smile.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (sits across)
                         This is practically a high school 
                         reunion for us, Jane--I would have 
                         sprung for a classier place.

                                     JANE
                         Anyplace really public, they'd know 
                         about it--they know everything at 
                         the Committee, Carl--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --you don't really think you're being 
                         followed?

                                     JANE
                         This girlfriend of mine at the 
                         Committee, the other day she went 
                         back to the D.A. to tell the things 
                         the FBI didn't ask her. That night, 
                         her boss, he knew what she'd done. 
                         They control everything; that's how 
                         they know it all.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         FBI too?

                                     JANE
                         You don't believe me? Well, I was 
                         working the weekend of the break-in 
                         and my God, all the executives were 
                         running around like crazy--you had 
                         to practically wait in line to use 
                         the shredding machine--and when the 
                         FBI came to investigate, they never 
                         even asked me about it.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         If you don't like it down there, why 
                         don't you quit?

                                     JANE
                         I don't know what they'd do to me.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (reaching over)
                         Hey, easy...

                                     JANE
                              (headshake)
                         We're a long way from high school, 
                         Carl...
                              (she looks at him)
                         ...and I'm scared.

               HOLD on her frightened face a moment. Then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN

               riding home on his bicycle. He gets to his building, starts 
               lugging it up when--

                                     JANE'S VOICE (O.S.)
                         They found out I saw you--
                              (BERNSTEIN stops, 
                              glances around)
                         --they wanted to know everything.
                              (louder)
                         Don't call me again.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (moving toward her 
                              voice)
                         I can help if you'll--

                                     JANE (O.S.)
                         --stay away from me, Carl!

                                                                    CUT TO:

               JANE IN THE DARKNESS. If she was scared earlier, it's panic-
               time now. She turns, hurries off.

               BERNSTEIN watches her. Suddenly a SOUND comes from the 
               darkness behind him. He whirls. It was nothing but from the 
               way he jumped when it happened you can tell the fear is 
               spreading.

               Now from Washington, in darkness--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ESSEX HOUSE IN MANHATTAN - BRIGHT SUNSHINE.

               WOODWARD comes hurrying along, and as he enters the hotel--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A DESK CLERK shaking his head at WOODWARD.

                                     CLERK
                         We have no one by the name of Mitchell 
                         registered.

                                     WOODWARD
                         My mistake, sorry.

               And as he goes--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD out on the street, in a phone booth near Essex House.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Get me John Mitchell, it's urgent.

                                     OPERATOR (V.O.)
                         That would be room 710, I'll connect 
                         you.

               WOODWARD waits anxiously as the connection is made.

                                     MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         The Mitchells.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Can I speak to Martha Mitchell, 
                         please.

                                     MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         Who is this?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I've met Mrs. Mitchell in Washington, 
                         I'm Bob Woodward of the Post and 
                         tell her--

               And the phone clicks dead--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               AN ELEVATOR, the numbers of the floors being lit as it rises. 
               4--5--6-- WOODWARD stands alone in the elevator. As it reaches 
               seven and the doors slide open, he steps out and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE MARRIOTT SUITE. It's numbered 710. WOODWARD approaches 
               but as he does the door begins to open so he whirls, knocks 
               on the door nearest him. Now 710 is wide open and several 
               maids leave, watched by a large black man.

                                     FIRST MAID
                         We'll be back after lunch.

                                     BLACK MAN
                              (it's the voice from 
                              the phone)
                         We'll be here.

               WOODWARD waits by his door as 710 slowly closes. The maids 
               look at him a moment. He knocks again, louder.

                                     SECOND MAID
                         I think they went out.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (shrugs)
                         I don't mind waiting.

               The maids nod, move out of sight. WOODWARD stands tense and 
               still, watching the closed door numbered 710... Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               NATIONAL AIRPORT IN D.C. - LATE AFTERNOON.

               People are getting off the shuttle, WOODWARD among them. 
               BERNSTEIN waits.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (as WOODWARD reaches 
                              him)
                         See her?
                              (WOODWARD nods)
                         Get anything?

                                     WOODWARD
                         For the paper, no; for us, plenty.
                              (The two of them head 
                              for the terminal)
                         I waited a long time and finally 
                         this big guy--I guess a bodyguard--
                         he left and I knocked and she 
                         remembered me, we talked awhile.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         And?--And?--

                                     WOODWARD
                              (looks at BERNSTEIN)
                         --she was panicked, Carl--every time 
                         I mentioned Watergate, you could 
                         tell.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Were you eyebrow reading?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (shakes his head "no")
                         It was there. I just don't get it; a 
                         CREEP secretary being scared, that's 
                         one thing. But what does the wife of 
                         one of the most powerful men in 
                         America have to be afraid of...?

               They look at each other, neither has a clue. HOLD. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE RED KARMANN GHIA

               moving along a residential area in Washington. It's later 
               that night.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               INSIDE THE CAR - NIGHT. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN driving along.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Left up ahead.

               WOODWARD nods.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Who's first?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Alphabetically, on the CREEP phone 
                         list, Miss Helen Abbott of South 
                         George Street.

               As WOODWARD turns left.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Now hang your second right--
                              (explaining)
                         --this was my turf when I was a kid.

               And on those words--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A DEAD END SIGN. We hear BERNSTEIN explaining--

                                     BERNSTEIN (V.O.)
                         I brought you over one street too 
                         many--go back and hang a left again.

               Now on those words--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER DEAD END SIGN.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN pulled over to one side. BERNSTEIN, 
               baffled, stares around; WOODWARD looks at a map with the aid 
               of a flashlight.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I don't get it... this really was my 
                         turf...

                                     WOODWARD
                              (concentrating on the 
                              map)
                         You're not a kid anymore.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (shaking his head)
                         My first day as a copy boy I was 
                         sixteen and wearing my only grown-up 
                         suit--it was cream colored. At 2:30 
                         the head copy boy comes running up 
                         to me and says, "My God, haven't you 
                         washed the carbon paper yet? If it's 
                         not washed by three, it'll never by 
                         dry for tomorrow."
                              (WOODWARD is getting 
                              interested in the 
                              story now)
                         And I said, "Am I supposed to do 
                         that?" and he said, "Absolutely, 
                         it's crucial." So I run around and 
                         grab all the carbon paper from all 
                         the desks and take it to the men's 
                         room. I'm standing there washing it 
                         and it's splashing all over me and 
                         the editor comes in to take a leak, 
                         and he says, "What the fuck do you 
                         think you're doing?" And I said, 
                         "It's 2:30. I'm washing the carbon 
                         paper."
                              (BERNSTEIN looks at 
                              WOODWARD)
                         Just wanted you to know I've done 
                         dumber things than get us lost, that's 
                         all.

               WOODWARD goes back to his map. BERNSTEIN continues to smoke, 
               staring around at the night.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD - AT THE FRONT OF A HOUSE. A sweet old lady is 
               looking out at him.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hi. I'm Bob Woodward of the Washington 
                         Post and I hate to bother you at 
                         home--

                                     SWEET OLD LADY
                         --I already get the Post. I don't 
                         need another subscription.

                                     WOODWARD
                         No, I'm a reporter. I wanted to talk 
                         to you about the Committee to Re-
                         Elect.

                                     SWEET OLD LADY
                         The what to what?

                                     WOODWARD
                         You work there, Miss Abbott.

                                     SWEET OLD LADY
                         I'm not Miss Abbott.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER LADY - IN HER DOORWAY. This time both WOODWARD and 
               BERNSTEIN are there.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Miss Abbott?

                                     MISS ABBOTT
                         Yes?

                                     WOODWARD
                         We're from the Washington Post and 
                         we wanted to ask you some questions 
                         about the Committee.

                                                                   ZOOM TO:

               CLOSE UP - MISS ABBOTT

                                     MISS ABBOTT
                         I'm sorry--

               And from nowhere, suddenly she bursts into tears.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN as her door slams in their faces.

               They just look at each other, bewildered. And a little bit 
               upset; their upset increases as the rejections go on.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WHOLE SERIES OF FACES

               in quick succession--they're all in various doorways, men, 
               women, young, old. The only thing in common is their fear.

                                     MIDDLE-AGED MAN
                              (literally trembling)
                         God, it's just so awful--

               And as he closes the door

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     A YOUNG GIRL
                         --I can't--I'd like to but--
                              (that's all she'll 
                              say)

               And as her door starts to shut

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     OLD MAN
                         --go--you've got to go before they 
                         see you--please--

               And as he almost starts to beg

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     OLD WOMAN
                         --no... good...

               She stands there, shaking her head back and forth, back and 
               forth, pathetic and sad. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD.

               He is seated alone staring at his coffee cup, surrounded by 
               junk food debris. We are in a Hot Shoppe, it's night, and as 
               BERNSTEIN comes up with food, they're dressed differently 
               from before. BERNSTEIN puts more junk food and coffee down.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You had the Mighty Mo and the fries 
                         without gravy, right?
                              (WOODWARD shrugs)

               BERNSTEIN passes over some food. They both look bleary and 
               in foul moods. Silently, they start to eat, something they 
               continue doing throughout. They're not hungry, they just 
               eat.

                                     WOODWARD
                         This is terrific work, if you like 
                         rejection.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I never scared anyone before.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It's not us, they were scared before 
                         we got there.
                              (looks at BERNSTEIN)
                         What do we know?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Facts or theory?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Anything you've got.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We know there's got to be something 
                         or they wouldn't be so panicked.

                                     WOODWARD
                         And that something's got to be more 
                         than just Hunt, Liddy, and the five 
                         burglars--those indictments are gonna 
                         be bullshit when they come down. 
                         What else do we know?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I just wish we knew when someone 
                         would talk to us, that's all.

               The continue to eat, bleary and numb, as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN--

               --kind of an honest, hard-working face.

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN are standing in her doorway.

                                     WOODWARD
                         A friend at the Committee told us to 
                         contact you--

                                     WOMAN
                         --who was it?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We never reveal our sources, which 
                         is why you can talk to us.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It's safe, try it, you'll see.

               She doesn't talk at first, but she doesn't slam the door 
               either.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We understand your problem--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --you believe in the President, you 
                         wouldn't ever want to do anything 
                         disloyal.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We appreciate your position--really.

               And now she starts, at last, to talk, and they expect it to 
               be their first breakthrough, but when it turns out to be the 
               most withering onslaught yet, they are stunned.

                                     WOMAN
                         You people--you think that you can 
                         come into someone's life, squeeze 
                         what you want, then get out.
                              (to BERNSTEIN)
                         You don't appreciate a goddamn thing, 
                         mister.
                              (to WOODWARD)
                         And you don't understand nothing.
                              (voice rising)
                         But the Committee's briefed us on 
                         you--so get the hell out of here--
                              (big)
                         --do you like scaring the life out 
                         of decent people?--'cause if you 
                         don't, in the name of God--stop it!

               And she slams the door--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN, slowly walking back in silence back 
               to the car.

                                     WOODWARD
                         At Yale once, they held an auction. 
                         There was this woman and her name 
                         was Lulu Landis. Her postcards came 
                         up for sale. She had 1400 postcards 
                         written to her and I'd never heard 
                         of her before but I knew I had to 
                         have those cards, I had to know why 
                         anyone would get so many messages. I 
                         paid sixty-five dollars for them... 
                         I got all crazy trying to work it 
                         out and first it was just a maze but 
                         then I found that her husband killed 
                         himself in Dayton, and once I had 
                         that, it all began to open, an 
                         evangelist had come to Dayton and 
                         his horses hit Lulu Landis at the 
                         corner of 13th and Vermillion and 
                         she was paralyzed. Permanently, and 
                         her favorite thing til then had been 
                         traveling and all her friends, 
                         whenever they went anyplace, they 
                         wrote her. Those cards, they were 
                         her eyes...

               They continue to walk; slowly.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MIDDLE-AGED MAN--IN HIS DOORWAY

                                     MIDDLE-AGED MAN
                         I know who you are and I'm not afraid 
                         but that don't mean I'll talk to you 
                         either--you're just a couple Democrats 
                         out to stop Nixon getting re-elected.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN, staring at the man.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Democrats?

                                     MIDDLE-AGED MAN
                         That's right.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I hate both parties.

                                     WOODWARD
                         And I'm a Republican.

               The middle-aged man looks at him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (surprised, turns to 
                              WOODWARD)
                         Republican?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Sure.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Who'd you vote for?

                                     WOODWARD
                         When?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         '68.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Nixon.

               BERNSTEIN stares at him in silence as we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ANOTHER SERIES OF CREEP EMPLOYEES.

               Only they aren't slamming doors, they're sitting in various 
               rooms of their houses and apartments. We don't see the 
               reporters or hear their questions but the answers they receive 
               make it self-evident. We start with the middle-aged man seen 
               above.

                                     MIDDLE-AGED MAN
                         Mitchell never left the Committee--
                         he resigned, sure, but he was there 
                         as much as before--

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     YOUNGER MAN
                         --oh, don't worry, Gordon Liddy will 
                         be happy to take the fall for everyone 
                         because, well, it's not that Gordon's 
                         crazy, he's...
                              (pauses, looking for 
                              the right word)
                         ...weird. I'll give you some Committee 
                         people who know about him--only don't 
                         tell it was me--

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     YOUNGER WOMAN
                         --of course we were briefed on what 
                         to say--and never to volunteer 
                         anything--

                                                                    CUT TO:

                                     OLD WOMAN
                         --oh, we were never alone with the 
                         FBI, there was always someone from 
                         the Committee right there--

               Smiles, talks on as we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               RICHARD NIXON'S SOMBER VISAGE.

                                     NIXON
                         ...No one in this administration, 
                         presently employed, was involved in 
                         this very bizarre incident...

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               BERNSTEIN and WOODWARD in a crummy cafeteria, watching the 
               evening news on the TV set high on the wall. WOODWARD eats a 
               hamburger, BERNSTEIN smokes, sips coffee. It is night, as 
               usual now.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               NIXON--on the tube.

                                     NIXON
                         ...What really hurts in matters of 
                         this sort is not the fact that they 
                         occur, because overzealous people in 
                         campaigns do things that are wrong. 
                         What really hurts is if you try to 
                         cover it up.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN as the news commentator come on, begins 
               introducing another story.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Did he just say what I think he said?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You voted for him.

               He gives WOODWARD a big smile. WOODWARD eats his hamburger 
               in silence...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A DIFFERENT TIME, A DIFFERENT PLACE--EARLY EVENING.

               BERNSTEIN gets out of his car, walks up, and knocks on the 
               door of a small tract house in the D.C. suburbs. A woman 
               opens the door.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Hi, I'm Carl Bernstein of the 
                         Washington Post and--

                                     WOMAN
                         --oh, you don't want me, you want my 
                         sister.
                              (calls out)
                         For you.

               And we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE BOOKKEEPER approaching the door. She's younger than the 
               cliché version of a bookkeeper. As she looks at her sister--

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S SISTER
                         This here is Carl Bernstein--

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         --omigod, you're from that place, 
                         you've got to go.

               The sister is smoking and there is a pack on the dinette 
               table.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Could I bum one of your cigarettes?--

               As the sister starts for the pack--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --don't bother, I'll get it.

               And he crosses ten feet inside the front door.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         You've really got to go.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Just let me get a match.

               He goes into the living room area, picks up a book of matches. 
               This whole scene moves slowly, the tension building under it--
               it's not like news people talking, nothing overlaps here.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         But I want you to know that I 
                         understand why you're afraid--a lot 
                         of good people down there at the 
                         Committee are afraid. I'm really 
                         sorry for what you're being put 
                         through.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         All those articles you people write--
                         where do you find that stuff?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We don't tell anyone that. Which is 
                         why you can talk to us. And if we 
                         can't verify what you say someplace 
                         else, we don't print it. That's 
                         another reason you can relax.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                              (tense)
                         I'm relaxed--light your cigarette.

               BERNSTEIN lights the cigarette.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You were Hugh Sloan's bookkeeper 
                         when he worked for Maurice Stans at 
                         Finance, and we were sort of 
                         wondering, did you go work for Stans 
                         immediately after Sloan quit or was 
                         there a time lapse?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         I never worked for Sloan or Stans.

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S SISTER
                              (out of the blue; to 
                              BERNSTEIN)
                         Would you like some coffee or 
                         anything?

               As the BOOKKEEPER winces.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (like a shot)
                         Please, yes, thank you.
                              (he looks at the 
                              BOOKKEEPER)
                         Can I sit down for a minute?

               He is by a couch.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         One minute but then--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --right, right, I've got to go.
                              (he sits)
                         Why did you lie just then?

               The BOOKKEEPER kneads her hands together silently. BERNSTEIN 
               watches.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I was just curious--you don't do it 
                         well, so I wondered. Have you been 
                         threatened, if you told the truth, 
                         is that it?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         ...No... never in so many words...

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (gently)
                         It's obvious you want to talk to 
                         someone--well, I'm someone.

               He takes out his notebook.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               The BOOKKEEPER. And she does want to talk. But the notebook 
               scares her terribly and she can only stare at it.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I'm not even going to put your name 
                         down. It's just so I can keep things 
                         straight.
                              (beat)
                         Start with the money, why don't you?

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S SISTER
                              (returning with coffee)
                         How do you like it?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Everything, please.

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S SISTER
                              (going again)
                         I won't be a minute.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (to the BOOKKEEPER, 
                              quietly)
                         The General Accounting report said 
                         there was a 350 thousand cash slush 
                         fund in Stans' safe. Did you know 
                         about that from the beginning?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                              (about to fold)
                         There are too many people watching 
                         me--they know I know a lot--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --it was all in hundreds, wasn't it?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         A lot of it was. I just thought it 
                         was sort of an all-purpose political 
                         fund--you know, for taking fat cats 
                         to dinner, things like that.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Could buy a lot of steaks, 350,000 
                         dollars.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                              (her words are coming 
                              faster)
                         I can't be positive that it was used 
                         for the break-in but people sure are 
                         worried.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Which people?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         The ones who could disburse the money.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Who were they?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         There were a group of them--I think 
                         five, I don't know their names.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Sloan knew which five, didn't he?
                              (she nods)

                                     BOOKKEEPER'S SISTER
                              (back with cream and 
                              sugar)
                         Here we are.

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         I don't want to say anymore.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (indicating coffee)
                         It's awfully hot--
                              (smiles)
                         --and you haven't finished telling 
                         me about the money--

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                              (long pause; then--in 
                              a burst)
                         --omigod, there was so much of it, 
                         six million came in one two-day period--
                         six million cash, we couldn't find 
                         enough places to put it. I thought 
                         it was all legal, I guess I did, til 
                         after the break-in, when I remembered 
                         Gordon got so much of it.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (heart starting to 
                              pound)
                         Gordon Liddy, you mean?

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                              (nods)
                         It was all so crazy--the day after 
                         the break-in he gave us a speech, 
                         bouncing up and down on his heels in 
                         that loony way of his--Gordon told 
                         us not to let Jim McCord ruin 
                         everything--don't let one bad apple 
                         spoil the barrel, he said. You just 
                         know that when Gordon Liddy's calling 
                         someone a bad apple, something's 
                         wrong somewhere.
                              (more and more moved 
                              now)
                         ...It's all so rotten... and getting 
                         worse... and all I care about is 
                         Hugh Sloan. His wife was going to 
                         leave him if he didn't stand up and 
                         do what was right. And he quit. He 
                         quit because he saw it and didn't 
                         want any part of it.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Think Sloan's being set up as a fall 
                         guy for John Mitchell? Sometimes it 
                         looks that way.

               There is a pause. Then--

                                     BOOKKEEPER
                         If you guys... if you guys could 
                         just get John Mitchell... that would 
                         be beautiful...

               And now, as long last, she begins to cry. HOLD on her tears, 
               then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A TYPEWRITER

               clicking away. The words "INTERVIEW WITH X. SEPT. 14" are 
               visible. There is music in the background, really blasting 
               away, Rachmaninoff or worse.

               We are in WOODWARD's apartment and BERNSTEIN is dictating 
               notes from the BOOKKEEPER interview. It's very late, and 
               BERNSTEIN has notes on everything, matchboxes, and it's hard 
               for him to read. They're both really excited, BERNSTEIN from 
               his coffee jag, WOODWARD by what BERNSTEIN's dictating.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I  couldn't believe what she told 
                         me. Eight cups of coffee worth.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Go on, go on--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --we've got to find out who the five 
                         guys are--the five with access to 
                         the slush fund--they were aware of 
                         the break-in.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Then tomorrow's grand jury indictments 
                         will just be bullshit.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         It goes very high--we've got to find 
                         out where--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --we will--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --she was really paranoid, the 
                         bookkeeper.

                                     WOODWARD
                         That happens to people.
                              (he goes over, turns 
                              the hi-fi on even 
                              louder. Shouts--)
                         OK, go on.

               The noise blasts away as BERNSTEIN and WOODWARD hunch over 
               the typewriter. It's a moment of genuine exhilaration. 
               Paranoid, sure, but for the first time, they're really on to 
               something; it's all starting to split open...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN

               They are driving through McLean, Virginia, a development of 
               identical imitation Tudor houses.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         How do you want to handle Sloan?

                                     WOODWARD
                         You mean, who's going to play the 
                         mean M.P. and who's going to be the 
                         nice one?
                              (BERNSTEIN nods; 
                              WOODWARD shrugs)
                         Whichever.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         He's another Ivy Leaguer so he'll 
                         probably expect you to be 
                         understanding--might surprise him if 
                         you're not.

                                     WOODWARD
                         You want me to be the bastard.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (nods)
                         And I'll just shitkick in my usual 
                         way.

               As they drive on--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A PRETTY YOUNG WOMAN standing in the doorway of one of the 
               Tudor houses. She is very pregnant. She knows instinctively 
               who they are, and she dominates them in a genuinely proud 
               female way. What I mean is, it's her scene, and they're 
               suddenly embarrassed to be bothering her.

                                     WOODWARD
                         To see Mr. Sloan.

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                         He's out.
                              (There is a pause. 
                              She studies them--)
                         You're those two from the Post, aren't 
                         you.
                              (they nod)
                         I'll tell him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (as she's about to 
                              step back inside)
                         This must be a difficult time for 
                         the both of you.

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                         This is an honest house.

                                     WOODWARD
                         That's why we wanted to see your 
                         husband.

               She studies them still; more silence.

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                         That decision is up to him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (conspiratorially)
                         Maybe you could put in a good word.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We've got another appointment tonight 
                         in this area--we'll just stop back 
                         later, all right?

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                         It's a free country--
                              (beat)
                         --in theory.

               They nod, start back down the walk. She watches them.

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                              (calling out)
                         Be careful--

               They turn, look back at her.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--MRS. SLOAN

                                     MRS. SLOAN
                         --you can destroy lives.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN watching her. She seems like a terrific 
               girl. And maybe they've upset her. Or maybe what she has 
               said, coming from her, has more impact than otherwise. 
               Quietly, they turn back, walk in silence toward the red 
               Karmann Ghia...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE McLEAN McDONALD'S--DINNERTIME. Lots of very noisy, happy 
               children. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sit surrounded by their 
               usual array of junk food.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Think Sloan's back?
                              (BERNSTEIN seems lost 
                              in thought)
                         What's wrong?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Nothing--I just found out that Jeb 
                         Magruder from CREEP is a bigger bike 
                         freak than I am.
                              (sips coffee)
                         I never like it when the other guy's 
                         human...

               They continue to sip coffee; outside it continues to rain. 
               Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A YOUNG, SLENDER GUY answering his door.

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN stand outside, their jackets over 
               their heads, protecting themselves from the rain which is 
               harder now.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Mr. Sloan?

                                     SLOAN
                              (nods)
                         My wife told me to expect you.
                              (softly)
                         As you know, I haven't talked to the 
                         press.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We were hoping that maybe now you 
                         could. We know why you left the 
                         Committee. We know you're not guilty 
                         of anything. But we know you know 
                         who is--

               It has begun to rain even harder.

                                     SLOAN
                         --look, come in. We'll have to be 
                         quiet--my wife's asleep.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CHRISTMAS CARD from the Nixons, they are standing in front 
               of the White House Christmas tree. It is signed "To Hugh and 
               Debbie Sloan, with thanks, Richard M. Nixon, Patricia Nixon."

               PULL BACK

               and we're in the living room. More coffee is being drunk; 
               SLOAN endlessly stirs his.

                                     SLOAN
                         I'd like to talk to you, I really 
                         would, but my lawyers say I shouldn't 
                         until after the Watergate trial.

                                     WOODWARD
                         You handed out the money. Maybe 
                         there's a legitimate explanation for 
                         the way it was done--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --then again, maybe things are even 
                         worse than we've written--

                                     SLOAN
                         --they're worse. That's why I quit.

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN wait as SLOAN is clearly going through 
               a struggle with himself. Then--

                                     SLOAN
                         Try and understand this. I'm a decent 
                         Republican. I believe in Richard 
                         Nixon. I worked in the White House 
                         four years--so did my wife. What 
                         happened on June 17 I don't think 
                         the President knew anything about. 
                         Some of his men I'm not so sure of.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Do you think the truth will come out 
                         at the trial?

                                     SLOAN
                         That's another of the things I'm not 
                         so sure of.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Because people at the Committee were 
                         told to lie to the prosecutors?

                                     SLOAN
                         We were never told flat out "Don't 
                         talk." But the message was clear.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         To cover up?

                                     SLOAN
                         Well, they sure didn't ask us to 
                         come forward and tell the truth.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Does "they" mean the White House?

                                     SLOAN
                         As opposed to the Committee? The 
                         Committee's not an independent 
                         operation. Everything is cleared 
                         with the White House. I don't think 
                         that the FBI or the prosecutors 
                         understand that.

                                     WOODWARD
                         The report on the cash in Maurice 
                         Stans' safe, the three hundred fifty 
                         thousand, that's true?

                                     SLOAN
                         No. It was closer to seven hundred 
                         thousand.

                                     WOODWARD
                         And as treasurer, you could release 
                         those funds?

                                     SLOAN
                              (nods)
                         When so ordered.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We're not sure we've got all the 
                         guys who could order you, but we 
                         know there were five.
                              (SLOAN is silent)

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (ticking them off)
                         Mitchell, Stans, Magruder, they're 
                         obvious--

               SLOAN stirs his coffee.

                                     WOODWARD
                         --there had to be a White House 
                         overseer--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --Colson.

                                     SLOAN
                         Colson's too smart to get directly 
                         involved with something like that.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (to BERNSTEIN)
                         Haldeman.
                              (to SLOAN)
                         Right?

                                     SLOAN
                         I won't talk about the other two.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         But they both worked at the White 
                         House?

                                     SLOAN
                              (softly)
                         I will not talk about the other two.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (out of the blue)
                         Kalmbach--Nixon's personal lawyer.

               SLOAN is shocked at the mention of Kalmbach.

                                     SLOAN
                         I can't say anything, I'm sorry.
                              (He starts to rise)

                                     WOODWARD
                         One thing I'm not completely clear 
                         on--when you gave out the money to 
                         Liddy, how did that work?

                                     SLOAN
                         Badly.
                              (and now for the first 
                              time, he almost smiles)
                         You don't realize how close all this 
                         came to staying undiscovered--I gave 
                         Liddy the Dahlberg check and he gave 
                         it to Barker who took it to Miami 
                         and deposited it.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Right.

                                     SLOAN
                         Then Barker withdrew the 25 thousand 
                         in hundred dollar bills and gave it 
                         back to Liddy who gave it back to me 
                         and I put it in the office safe which 
                         was crammed.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Go on.

                                     SLOAN
                         Well, when Liddy came and asked for 
                         money for what turned out to be the 
                         break-in funds, I went to the safe 
                         and gave him--out of this whole 
                         fortune--I happened to give him the 
                         same hundreds he gave me--banks have 
                         to keep track of hundreds. If the 
                         money had been in fifties, or if I'd 
                         grabbed a different stack, there 
                         probably wouldn't have been any 
                         Watergate story.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Ordinarily, though, what was the 
                         procedure?

                                     SLOAN
                         Routine--I'd just call John Mitchell 
                         over at the Justice Department and 
                         he'd say "go ahead, give out the 
                         money."

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN just look at each other--they hadn't 
               known it, not remotely. SLOAN stands and as they head for 
               the door--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE THREE OF THEM heading across the foyer.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What happens when the baby comes?

                                     SLOAN
                         We're moving.
                              (beat)
                         I've been looking for a job but it's 
                         been... hard. My name's been in the 
                         papers too much. Sometimes I wonder 
                         if reporters understand how much 
                         pain they can inflict in just one 
                         sentence. I'm not thinking of myself. 
                         But my wife, my parents, it's been 
                         very rough on them.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN and WOODWARD looking very uncomfortable as SLOAN 
               goes on.

                                     SLOAN
                         I wish I could put down on paper 
                         what it's like--you come to Washington 
                         because you believe in something, 
                         and then you get inside and you see 
                         how things actually work and you 
                         watch your ideals disintegrate.
                              (beat)
                         The people inside, the people in the 
                         White House, they start to believe 
                         they can suspend the rules because 
                         they're fulfilling a mission. That 
                         becomes the only important thing--
                         the mission. It's so easy to lose 
                         perspective. We want to get out before 
                         we lose ours altogether.

               SLOAN opens the front door. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN pause, 
               nod, almost an embarrassed pause. Then as they hurry out 
               into the rain--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A NERFBALL

               flying toward a basket cupped to a picture window. When we

               PULL BACK

               we're in BRADLEE's office, SIMONS and ROSENFELD are also 
               there, along with WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN. BRADLEE plays 
               nerfball mostly; he hasn't got the worlds's longest attention 
               span.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Look--five men controlled that slush 
                         fund as CREEP--three of them we've 
                         got, Mitchell, Stans, Magruder, and 
                         we're pretty sure of Kalmbach.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We'd like to wait til we have all 
                         five before we print it.

                                     BRADLEE
                         This is a daily paper, we'll explain 
                         it tomorrow.
                              (looks at them)
                         You're certain on Mitchell?

                                     WOODWARD
                         He approved the payments to Liddy 
                         while he was still Attorney General--

               And all this now goes fast--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --you got more than one source?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --yes--

                                     SIMONS
                         --has any of them got an ax?--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --political, personal, sexual, 
                         anything at all against Mitchell?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --no--

                                     SIMONS
                         --can we use their names?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --no--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --goddamnit, when's somebody gonna 
                         go on the record on this story--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --who you got?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --well, Sloan--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --and we got a guy in Justice--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --Deep Throat?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I saw him. He verifies.

                                     BRADLEE
                         OK.
                              (now after the burst 
                              of talk, a pause)
                         You're about to write a story that 
                         says that the former Attorney General--
                         the man who represented law in America--
                         is a crook.
                              (throws the nerfball)
                         Just be right, huh?

               As WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN leave the office--

                                     BRADLEE
                         Leave plenty of room for his denial.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN AT HIS DESK ON THE PHONE. He has some papers in 
               front of him an a notepad and pencil in his free hand. He is 
               tired and very, very nervous. It is dark outside. In what 
               follows, BERNSTEIN takes notes.

                                     OPERATOR'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         Essex House, can I help you?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         John Mitchell, please.

               There is a BUZZING SOUND. Then--

                                     JOHN MITCHELL'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         Yes?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Sir, this is Carl Bernstein of the 
                         Washington Post, and I'm sorry to 
                         bother you but we're running a story 
                         in tomorrow's paper that we thought 
                         you should have a chance to comment 
                         on.

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         What does it say?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (starting to read)
                         John N. Mitchell, while serving as 
                         US Attorney General, personally 
                         controlled a secret cash fund that--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --jeeeeeeesus--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --fund that was used to gather 
                         information against the Democrats--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --jeeeeeeesus--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --according to sources involved in 
                         the Watergate investigation. Beginning 
                         in the spring of 1971--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --jeeeeeeesus--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --almost a year before he left the 
                         Justice Department--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --jeeeeeeeeesus--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --to become President Nixon's campaign 
                         manager on March 1, Mitchell 
                         personally approved withdrawals from 
                         the fund--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --all that crap, you're putting it 
                         in the paper? It's all been denied. 
                         You tell your publisher--tell Katie 
                         Graham she's gonna get her tit caught 
                         in a big fat wringer if that's 
                         published. Good Christ! That's the 
                         most sickening thing I ever heard.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Sir, I'd like to ask you a few--

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         --what time is it?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         11:30.

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         Morning or night?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Night.

                                     MITCHELL (V.O.)
                         Oh.

               And he hangs up.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE and BERNSTEIN at BERNSTEIN's desk. BRADLEE is going 
               over BERNSTEIN's notes.

                                     BRADLEE
                         He really made that remark about 
                         Mrs. Graham?
                              (BERNSTEIN nods)
                         This is a family newspaper--cut the 
                         words "her tit" and run it.

               And now suddenly--

               THE PRESSES OF THE POST

               rolling the story. They're modern and gigantic and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN. They're in the lobby of the Post at 
               night and through a thick-pane of glass they're watching 
               their story roll and on their faces is something you don't 
               expect to see: panic.

               BRADLEE comes up behind them, looks down at the presses, 
               starts to talk.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Once when I was reporting, Lyndon 
                         Johnson's top guy gave me the word 
                         they were looking for a successor to 
                         J. Edgar Hoover. I wrote it and the 
                         day it appeared Johnson called a 
                         press conference and appointed Hoover 
                         head of the FBI for life... And when 
                         he was done, he turned to his top 
                         guy and the President said, "Call 
                         Ben Bradlee and tell him fuck you."
                              (shakes his head)
                         I took a lot of static for that--
                         everyone said, "You did it, Bradlee, 
                         you screwed up--you stuck us with 
                         Hoover forever--"
                              (looks at WOODWARD 
                              and BERNSTEIN)
                         --I screwed up but I wasn't wrong.

               They all watch the presses now.

                                     BRADLEE
                         You guys haven't been wrong yet, is 
                         that why you're scared shitless?
                              (as WOODWARD and 
                              BERNSTEIN nod, BRADLEE 
                              starts away)
                         You should be...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE PRESSES continuing to roll. The SOUND is incredible. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A TELETYPE MACHINE

               clacking away like crazy. We can read the words, "The Senator 
               finished by saying that although he was..." and from there--

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               A SENATOR and while the words "although he was" are still 
               very fresh in our minds--

                                     SENATOR
                         Although I am a Republican, I would 
                         like to state in a pure bipartisan 
                         spirit that I feel only sadness that 
                         a once fine journal of record like 
                         the Post would have become merely 
                         the hysterical spokesman for the 
                         equally hysterical left wing of the 
                         Democratic Party--

               The SOUND of the teletype doesn't stop in this little part 
               and we see three people and it's very important that their 
               voices are immediately recognizable and distinct. One, the 
               SENATOR is from the West and will have that twang. The next 
               two whom we are about to meet are PUBLIC RELATIONS PEOPLE 
               from CREEP and the WHITE HOUSE. The CREEP voice is very 
               southern, the WHITE HOUSE GUY sounds like an NBC announcer. 
               The WESTERN SENATOR will be seen in a corridor of the Senate 
               office building, talking to reporters, the CREEP P.R. 
               SOUTHERNER will be talking to reporters in front of the CREEP 
               office doors and so identified. The WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN 
               will be standing on a platform with a flag visible off to 
               one side. As the teletype goes on--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SOUTHERN CREEP P.R. MAN

                                     CREEP P.R. MAN
                              (in mid-sentence)
                         --hearsay, innuendo, and character 
                         assassination. I can only conclude 
                         that the so-called sources of the 
                         Washington Post are a fountain of 
                         misinformation--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN

                                     WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN
                         --the White House has long since 
                         stopped being surprised at this type 
                         of reporting by certain elements of 
                         the Eastern liberal press--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE'S OFFICE

               A lot of activity. BRADLEE is at his desk reading the teletype 
               dispatches. SIMONS and ROSENFELD are there, WOODWARD and 
               BERNSTEIN, too. A kid comes in with more teletype stuff. The 
               editors look at it.

                                     SIMONS
                              (reading)
                         Same kind of crap--

                                     BRADLEE
                              (glancing through; 
                              nods)
                         --all non-denial denials--we're dirty 
                         guys and they doubt we were ever 
                         virgins but they don't say the story 
                         is inaccurate.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What's a real denial?

                                     BRADLEE
                         If they ever start calling us goddamn 
                         liars--
                              (little pause)
                         --it's time to start circling the 
                         wagons.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE UNION GUYS IN THE POST

               looking at a new headline:

               NIXON ELECTION AIDES CONCEALED FACTS FROM GOVERNMENT PROBERS

                                     FIRST UNION GUY
                         You think they know what they're 
                         doing on the fifth floor?

                                     SECOND UNION GUY
                         I got eight kids to support--they 
                         better.

               They start for the sports section, only this time, they stop, 
               go back, stare at the headline again. From them watching--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               SIMONS

               walking WOODWARD to the elevators.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What do you think Mrs. Graham wants 
                         to see me for?

                                     SIMONS
                         Maybe to fire you--since you two 
                         started on this story, the Post stock 
                         has dropped, what, 50 percent?
                              (WOODWARD pushes for 
                              the elevator)
                         And the word is some Nixon people 
                         are challenging her TV licenses. I'm 
                         not saying she's going on relief, 
                         but I don't think it's unreasonable 
                         for her to want to meet you.

                                     WOODWARD
                         You think she wants us to ease up on 
                         the story?

                                     SIMONS
                              (shrugs)
                         I don't know, but I don't think that's 
                         unreasonable either, do you?

               The elevator opens. WOODWARD shakes his head "no" and steps 
               inside as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               MRS. GRAHAM in her office as a SECRETARY lets WOODWARD in. 
               He's nervous. She's standing by the window, he crosses to 
               her.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         I'm so glad you could come, Mr.--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I'm Woodward.

               She nods. There's a pause. He waits. She's trying to say 
               something, get something started, but it's difficult. Silence. 
               She stares out again, quietly starts to talk.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         You know, the paper was my father's 
                         and my husband's when they were alive 
                         and I was thinking back a year or 
                         two ago when Ben called me and said 
                         he wanted to publish the Pentagon 
                         Papers the next day. The Times had 
                         already been stopped from publishing 
                         anymore of them and all my legal 
                         counsel said "don't, don't" and I 
                         was frightened but I knew if I said 
                         no, I'd lose the whole fifth floor. 
                         So we published, and that night, 
                         after I'd told Ben to go ahead, I 
                         woke up in the darkness and I thought, 
                         "Oh my Lord, what am I doing to this 
                         newspaper?"
                              (She looks at WOODWARD)
                         I woke up again last night with that 
                         same question.
                              (WOODWARD says nothing, 
                              waits)
                         Are we right on this story?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I think so.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         Are you sure?

                                     WOODWARD
                         No.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         When will you be, do you think?--
                         when are we going to know it all?

                                     WOODWARD
                         It may never come out.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         Never? Please don't tell me never.
                              (beat)
                         Ben says you've found some wonderful 
                         sources.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Some Justice Department lawyers and 
                         an FBI man, and some people from the 
                         Committee to Re-Elect, yes ma'am.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         And the underground garage one.
                              (WOODWARD, more nervous 
                              now, nods)
                         Would I know him?

                                     WOODWARD
                         I couldn't say.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         But it's possible.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (throat very dry)
                         It is.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         You've never told anyone who he is?
                              (WOODWARD shakes his 
                              head)
                         But you'd have to tell me if I asked 
                         you.
                              (WOODWARD nods)
                         Tell me.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (he is dying)
                         I would, if you really ever wanted 
                         to know.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         I really want to know.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD caught between a rock and a hard place. He is silent 
               until there is the SOUND of light laughter and we--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               MRS. GRAHAM. The laughter came from her.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         I wasn't serious. I have plenty of 
                         burdens to carry around, I don't 
                         need another.

               WOODWARD tries not to exhale too audibly.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         We're going to need lots of good 
                         luck, aren't we?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Nobody ever had too much.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--MRS. GRAHAM as abruptly she reaches out, touches 
               WOODWARD on the arm.

                                     MRS. GRAHAM
                         Do better.

               WOODWARD makes a nod. HOLD. Then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE

               in a state of anger, pacing around the tiny teletype room. 
               WOODWARD hurries in.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What?

               BRADLEE says nothing, just points to the AP teletype. WOODWARD 
               looks at it, clearly is upset.

                                     BRADLEE
                         I thought you guys were supposed to 
                         be working on this story--
                              (to BERNSTEIN who 
                              tears in--)
                         --you think I like being aced out?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --what?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --The L.A. Times has a huge interview 
                         with Baldwin--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --the lookout in the Motor Inn?--
                              (WOODWARD nods)
                         --he say anything we don't know?--

                                     WOODWARD
                              (headshake)
                         --just that a lot of reports were 
                         sent to CREEP, but he doesn't name 
                         who, not here anyway--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --it would have been nice to have 
                         had this, I sure would have liked to 
                         have had this--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --there's nothing new in it--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --it makes the break-in real--it's a 
                         major goddamn story--
                              (starts out)
                         --I'm not going to kick ass over 
                         this, but I'd like you to know I 
                         hate getting beat, I just hate it--
                         don't forget that I hate it--

               And he stalks out. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN stand staring at 
               the teletype which keeps on clacking and clacking as the 
               L.A. Times story keeps getting longer.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Goddamnit--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --shit--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --we gotta top the Times--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I know, I know--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --if we could name the guys got the 
                         reports, we'd be ahead again--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --shit, who do we know?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --I know a lawyer at Justice--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --has he got an ax?--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --almost every source we've used has 
                         been Republican, this guy's a card-
                         carrying Democrat.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Then he's got an ax.
                              (beat)
                         Call him anyway.

               As BERNSTEIN nods, takes off out of the room--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE UNION GUYS

               studying the front page, on which one headline indicates 
               that they're named the guys at CREEP who got the reports.

                                     FIRST UNION GUY
                         Who is this Woodstein?
                              (points to paper)
                         Two stories on the front page.

                                     SECOND UNION GUY
                         If he can't pick a winner at Pimlico, 
                         to hell with him.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A HOT SHOPPE.

               WOODWARD is stirring his morning coffee as BERNSTEIN comes 
               in, spots him, hurries over. BERNSTEIN is maybe more excited 
               then we've yet seen him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --I want you to shut up and listen 
                         to me--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I haven't said anything--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --for the first time I'm beginning 
                         to feel like a fucking reporter--
                         Woodward, I got a tip. A guy called 
                         me up with a tip--
                              (carefully)
                         --someone named Donald Segretti 
                         contacted a bunch of lawyers and 
                         asked them if they'd like to go to 
                         work with him screwing up the 
                         Democrats, dirty tricks, shit like 
                         that. The FBI knows about Segretti--
                         Howard Hunt made a bunch of phone 
                         calls to him--they interrogated him, 
                         but on account of Segretti wasn't 
                         involved with the break-in, they 
                         didn't follow through. But Segretti 
                         did a lot of traveling--he called 
                         these lawyers from different places, 
                         and he told them the Republicans 
                         knew what he was doing.

                                     WOODWARD
                         How high up, which Republicans?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         That's what we've got to find out, 
                         but Segretti went to Southern Cal. 
                         and so did a bunch of Nixon men--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --Haldeman I know, who else?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Dwight Chapin, Nixon's appointments 
                         chief--he knew Segretti in school. 
                         Maybe I'm crazy, but this is the 
                         first time any of this starts to 
                         make sense. What were the three 
                         theories?

                                     WOODWARD
                         The burglary was done by Cubans or 
                         Democrats or Republicans.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Now the reason no one believed the 
                         Republicans is because there wasn't 
                         any reason, they were so far ahead. 
                         But Segretti was talking to these 
                         other lawyers a year before the break-
                         in.

                                     WOODWARD
                         So maybe Watergate wasn't really 
                         about Watergate--maybe that was just 
                         a piece--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --because a year before, the 
                         Republicans weren't ahead, not in 
                         the polls, Muskie was running ahead 
                         of Nixon then. Before he self-
                         destructed.

                                     WOODWARD
                         If he self-destructed.

               Now, from the two of them--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A MAZE OF CREDIT CARD RECEIPTS IN VARIOUS PILES.

               There is the SOUND of bad guitar music, which as we

               PULL BACK

               we see is BERNSTEIN playing. We are in his apartment, it's 
               night, and the two of them, bleary, are studying the maze of 
               receipts.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Segretti criss-crossed the country 
                         over ten times in six months--and 
                         never stayed anyplace over a night 
                         or two.
                              (glancing up)
                         Switch to another station, huh? You're 
                         driving me crazy with that.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Segovia begged me for me secret but 
                         I said, "No, Andres, you'll have to 
                         try and make it without me."

               He switches to another song which sounds a lot like the one 
               he just finished playing.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (pointing to the 
                              thickest stacks)
                         California, Illinois, Florida, New 
                         Hampshire--all the major Democratic 
                         primary states.
                              (whirling)
                         Why does everything you play sound 
                         the same?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --'cause I only know four chords--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE CREDIT CARDS. The camera moves across the travels of 
               Donald Segretti. There is the SOUND of BERNSTEIN's guitar. 
               HOLD for a moment, then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               TINY, BABY-FACED MAN

               standing in his doorway.

                                     BERNSTEIN (V.O.)
                         Donald Segretti?

                                     SEGRETTI
                         That's right.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN--OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT DOOR. We are, it will soon 
               be clear, in California now, Marina Del Rey.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I'm Carl Bernstein.
                              (SEGRETTI nods)
                         My paper sent me out to see if I 
                         couldn't persuade you to go on the 
                         record.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         You can't.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Mind if I try?

               SEGRETTI shrugs, and as they enter his apartment--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               INSIDE. They walk across to a small terrace outside, where 
               they sit. The terrace has a glorious view of the water and 
               lots of girls in bathing costume, below.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         According to what we've been able to 
                         verify, you've been busy.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         I've got a lot of energy.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Listen--we know you're involved in 
                         this--we're going to get the story, 
                         why not help?

                                     SEGRETTI
                         They never told me anything except 
                         my own role--I had to find out the 
                         rest in the papers.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         By "they" you mean...?

               He waits; SEGRETTI just shakes his head.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         By "they" you mean the White House, 
                         don't you?
                              (SEGRETTI makes no 
                              reply)
                         Your buddy from USC, Dwight Chapin--
                         he works for the White House.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         I know where Dwight works.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         When did he hire you?

               SEGRETTI shakes his head, stares out at the girls.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Do you feel much about the things 
                         you did?

                                     SEGRETTI
                         I didn't do anything wrong.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Tell that to Muskie.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         Oh, maybe nickel and dime stuff.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         During the Florida primary, you wrote 
                         a letter on Muskie stationery saying 
                         Scoop Jackson had a bastard child. 
                         You wrote another that said Hubert 
                         Humphrey was out with call girls.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         Sometimes it got up to a quarter 
                         maybe--
                              (to BERNSTEIN)
                         --off the record.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You wrote the Canuck letter--the one 
                         where you claimed Muskie slurred the 
                         Canadians.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         I didn't.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         But you know who did.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         When you guys print it in the paper, 
                         then I'll know.
                              (closes his eyes)
                         I'm a lawyer, and I'll probably go 
                         to jail, and be disbarred, and what 
                         did I do that was so awful?

               BERNSTEIN says nothing, waits.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         None of it was my idea, Carl--I didn't 
                         go looking for the job.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Chapin did contact you then?

                                     SEGRETTI
                         Sure--off the record.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         On the orders of Haldeman?

                                     SEGRETTI
                         I don't know anything about Haldeman, 
                         except, Dwight's frightened of him--
                         everybody's frightened of him--Christ, 
                         I wish I'd never gotten messed around 
                         with this--all I wanna do is sit in 
                         the sun; sit, swim, see some girls.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         It gets interesting if it was 
                         Haldeman, because our word is that 
                         when Chapin says something, he's 
                         gotten the OK from Haldeman, and 
                         when Haldeman says something, he's 
                         gotten the OK from the President.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         Can't help you.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         At USC, you had a word the this--
                         screwing up the opposition you all 
                         did it at college and called it 
                         ratfucking.
                              (SEGRETTI half-smiles, 
                              nods)
                         Ever wonder if Nixon might turn out 
                         to be the biggest ratfucker of them 
                         all?

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--SEGRETTI staring at the girls and the blue water.

                                     SEGRETTI
                         What would you have done if you were 
                         just getting out of the Army, if 
                         you'd been away from the real world 
                         for four years, if you weren't sure 
                         what kind of law you wanted to 
                         practice, and then one day you got a 
                         call from an old friend asking you 
                         to go to work for the President of 
                         the United States...?

               HOLD on the question, then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN

               back in D.C., walking through the airport.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What would you have done?

                                     WOODWARD
                         You asking would I have been one of 
                         the President's men?
                              (beat)
                         I would have been.

               As they continue on--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD

               alone in the underground garage. Tense, jumpy. He looks at 
               his watch, paces around. It's all eerie as hell. Then, from 
               the ramps, footsteps.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DEEP THROAT moving out of the shadows, smoking, as always.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         My turn to keep you waiting.
                              (approaches)
                         What's the topic for tonight?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Ratfucking.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         In my day, it was simply called the 
                         double cross. I believe the CIA refers 
                         to it as Mindfuck. In our context, 
                         it simply means infiltration of the 
                         Democrats.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I know what it means--Segretti 
                         wouldn't go on the record, but if he 
                         would, we know he'd implicate Chapin. 
                         And that would put us inside the 
                         White House.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                              (nods)
                         Yes, the little ratfuckers are now 
                         running our government.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Who?--be specific. How high up?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         You'll have to find that out, won't 
                         you.

                                     WOODWARD
                         The slush fund at CREEP financed the 
                         ratfucking, we've almost got that 
                         nailed down, so--

               He stops as suddenly DEEP THROAT dives down behind the nearest 
               car.

               WOODWARD dropping beside him.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Did you change cabs?
                              (as WOODWARD nods)
                         It didn't work, something moved there--

               And as he points

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SHADOWS BY THE RAMP. You can't see a goddamn thing. But 
               there is the SOUND, faint but distinct, of breathing.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD standing, staring into the darkness. He is scared, 
               wipes his mouth. He doesn't move for a moment. Then he walks 
               directly into the darkness and as he's gone--

                                                                   ZOOM TO:

               A HORRID FACE IN CLOSE UP, red eyed, unshaven, beaten--there 
               are half-formed scabs and cuts. He is leaning against a wall, 
               shivering. He looks, for all the world, like a perpetual 
               drunk.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD in the shadows, coming closer.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE DRUNK. He blinks slowly, tongue lolling outside his mouth. 
               He watches WOODWARD approach.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD coming still closer.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE DRUNK. He blinks very slowly now. Maybe he isn't even 
               certain WOODWARD's there.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD stopping in front of the drunk. They look at each 
               other for a long time. Then:

                                     WOODWARD
                         Who are you?

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE DRUNK. Nothing, no reaction.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD studying the other man.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE DRUNK. And he blinks again, then slowly, shivering, begins 
               sliding down the wall. WOODWARD reaches for him, holds him 
               up.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD managing to get out his wallet, take out some bills. 
               He starts up the ramp with the drunk, and as they disappear 
               up the ramp out of sight, he gives the drunk the money.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Here.
                              (softly)
                         Forget your troubles and just be 
                         happy.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DEEP THROAT pacing and smoking. He is visibly upset; scared 
               maybe. He glances over as WOODWARD comes back down the ramp 
               alone.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                              (self-mocking)
                         I hope you noticed how coolly I 
                         behaved under the threat of discovery.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (impatiently)
                         Do Justice and the FBI know what we 
                         know, and why the hell haven't they 
                         done anything about it?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         They know, but they focused on the 
                         burglary--if it didn't deal with the 
                         break-in, they didn't pursue it.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Why didn't they?--who told them not 
                         to?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Someone with authority I'd imagine, 
                         wouldn't you?
                              (coughs)
                         Don't you know what you're onto? 
                         Come on.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Mitchell knew then.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Of course--my God, you think something 
                         this big just happens? The break-in 
                         and the cover up, of course Mitchell 
                         knew, but no more than Ehrlichman.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Haldeman too?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         You get nothing from me about 
                         Haldeman?

               And from this tone, you know HALDEMAN scares him.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Why did they do all this for 
                         Chrissakes?--what were they after?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Total manipulation. I suppose you 
                         could say they wanted to subvert the 
                         Constitution, but they don't think 
                         along philosophical lines.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Talk about Segretti--

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         --don't concentrate on Segretti or 
                         you'll miss the overall scheme too.

                                     WOODWARD
                         There were more then.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Follow every lead--every lead goes 
                         somewhere--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --the Canuck letter--was that a White 
                         House operation--

                                     DEEP THROAT
                              (nods, bigger)
                         --don't you miss the grand scheme 
                         too.

                                     WOODWARD
                         How grand?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Nationwide--my God, they were 
                         frightened of Muskie and look who 
                         got destroyed--they wanted to run 
                         against McGovern, and look who they're 
                         running against. They bugged, they 
                         followed people, false press leaks, 
                         fake letters, they canceled Democratic 
                         campaign rallies, they investigated 
                         Democratic private lives, they planted 
                         spies, stole documents, on and on--
                         don't tell me you think this was all 
                         the work of little Don Segretti.

                                     WOODWARD
                         And Justice and FBI know all this?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         Yes, yes, everything. There were 
                         over fifty people employed by the 
                         White House and CREEP to ratfuck--
                         some of what they did is beyond 
                         belief.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (stunned)
                         Fifty ratfuckers directed by the 
                         White House to destroy the Democrats?

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DEEP THROAT

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         I was being cautious.
                              (inhales)
                         You can safely say more then fifty...

               SILENCE in the garage. HOLD... then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE FIFTH FLOOR OF THE POST

               and it's noisy. Not as noisy as it's going to get, but there 
               is more tension around just now than there has been 
               previously.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               AN ATTRACTIVE WOMAN IN HER MID-30s. On her desk is her name, 
               MARILYN BERGER. She is watching BERNSTEIN who is standing by 
               the water cooler nearby. As she gets up--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN drinking water.

                                     BERGER
                         Do you guys know about the Canuck 
                         letter?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (nods, drinks)
                         Um-hmm.
                              (stops, looks at her)
                         Why?

                                     BERGER
                         I just wanted to be sure you knew 
                         who wrote it.

               As she speaks--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD working at his desk, suddenly looking up as a SCREAM 
               comes from the direction of the water cooler and as everyone 
               turns to see, here comes BERNSTEIN dragging BERGER over to 
               WOODWARD's desk.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (hysterical)
                         Tell him what you just told me.

                                     BERGER
                         Just than Ken Clawsen--he used to be 
                         a reporter here before he went to 
                         work for Nixon--I had him over for a 
                         drink a few weeks ago and he told me 
                         he wrote the Canuck letter.
                              (she looks from one 
                              of them to the other)
                         You did want to know, didn't you?

               And now from her--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN in a corner of the room, talking low 
               and fast.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You think we're being set up?--Christ, 
                         Deep Throat tells you last night 
                         that the letter came from inside the 
                         White House and up traipses Marilyn 
                         naming names.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It makes a crazy kind of sense--
                         remember that initiation rite they 
                         have at the White House? Each new 
                         member of the President's staff has 
                         to prove his guts by getting an enemy 
                         of Nixon.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You think this was Clawsen's 
                         initiation?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Could have won him a fraternity paddle 
                         with a White House seal.
                              (beat)
                         God knows it worked.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A FROZEN SHOT OF MUSKIE IN THE SNOW in tears, standing on 
               the flat-bed truck. This was in the New Hampshire primary, 
               just after the Canuck letter was published.

                                     WOODWARD (V.O.)
                         You claiming it was all a 
                         misunderstanding, Ken?

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         Absolutely--Marilyn's gotten it 
                         totally wrong--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD ON THE PHONE

                                     WOODWARD
                         She's an awfully good reporter--I 
                         can't remember her getting too much 
                         wrong before, can you?

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         That's a bullshit question, that's a 
                         question straight out of Wichita, 
                         Kansas.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Sorry, Ken; listen, one last thing: 
                         where did your talk with Berger 
                         happen?

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         Where?
                              (beat)
                         What do you mean, where?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Well, was it in a bar, her apartment, 
                         some restaurant--

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         --I've completely forgotten where it 
                         was, except I know it wasn't her 
                         apartment.

               There is a sound of him hanging up the phone. Hard. WOODWARD 
               hangs up quietly, rubs his eyes, calls out to BERGER who is 
               at her desk--

                                     WOODWARD
                         Non denial-denial, Marilyn--

               BERGER is about to answer when her phone rings. She picks it 
               up, turns to WOODWARD, mouths "it's him" and we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERGER ON THE PHONE. Again Clawsen on the other end.

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         For Chissakes, don't tell them I 
                         came to your place.

                                     BERGER
                         I already told them.

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         Oh, that's terrific, that's just so 
                         terrific, I'm thrilled you did that.

                                     BERGER
                         I have a clear conscience.

                                     CLAWSEN (V.O.)
                         Marilyn, I have a wife and a family 
                         and a cat and a dog.

               Now from this--

               BRADLEE IN HIS OFFICE GESTURING

               And we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN heading toward the office. As they 
               enter--

                                     BRADLEE
                         I got Clawsen on hold--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --his dialing finger must be falling 
                         off--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --what do you think?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --he went to her apartment and he 
                         told her--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --if he did it or just said he did 
                         it, God knows.

                                     BRADLEE
                         I could care less about where it 
                         happened; what happened is what 
                         counts.
                              (calling out to his 
                              SECRETARY)
                         Put him on.
                              (picks up the phone)
                         Ken, I'm sorry, it was Goddamn Beirut 
                         and they were having a crisis, what's 
                         up, kid?
                              (pause)
                         Slow down, Ken, you sound frazzled.
                              (pause)
                         A wife and a family and a cat and a 
                         dog, right, Ken.
                              (pause)
                         Ken, I would never print that you 
                         were in Marilyn's apartment at night--
                         unless, of course, you force me to.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--BRADLEE. He is genuinely enjoying himself. Now, he 
               puts his hand over the receiver--

                                     BRADLEE
                         It's like they taught us at Harvard: 
                         few things are as gratifying to the 
                         soul as having another man's nuts in 
                         a vise...

               Now, as he goes back to talking--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A BIG HEADLINE IN THE POST READING: NIXON AIDES SABOTAGED 
               DEMOCRATS.

               Now we HOLD on that headline as the three deniers are visible 
               through it in the same places they spoke before.

                                     WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN
                         The story is based entirely on hearsay 
                         and--

                                     CREEP P.R. MAN
                         --we at the Committee are continually 
                         amazed at the creativity shown by 
                         the Washington Post--

                                     WESTERN SENATOR
                         --although I am a Republican, I would 
                         like to state in a pure bipartisan 
                         spirit that I am happy that this 
                         latest onslaught against the 
                         intelligence of the American people 
                         will be wrapping fish tomorrow. I 
                         offer my condolences to the fish...

               And now, the headline fades as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               SIMONS IN ROSENFELD'S OFFICE

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN hurry in.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         Speak.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         We've just been talking to Young--

                                     SIMONS
                         --which Young?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Larry Young, a California lawyer--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --he was going to go into law practice 
                         with Segretti.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         And?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --and he says Chapin hired Segretti--

                                     SIMONS
                         --well and good, but when will he 
                         say it on the record.

                                     WOODWARD
                         He just did.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         He'll give us a sworn statement.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We're inside the White House now.

               ROSENFELD and SIMONS just look at each other. They should be 
               happy, and maybe they are. But at the moment more then 
               anything else they look scared... HOLD. Then--

               THE MONTPELIER ROOM OF THE MADISON HOTEL.

               It's a very fancy restaurant and BRADLEE is at a corner table 
               as WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sit down. They are exhausted.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Look, I wanted to talk because things 
                         are getting really hairy and there's 
                         a couple of things we've got to be 
                         careful of because--

               A waiter is nearby.

                                     BRADLEE
                         --either of you want a drink or should 
                         I order?--
                              (They don't)
                         --because--

               And suddenly he lapses into perfect French with the waiter, 
               ordering lunch ann salad and as the waiter nods and goes

                                     BRADLEE
                         --because our cocks are on the 
                         chopping block and you've got to be 
                         sure that you're not just dealing 
                         with people who hate Richard Nixon 
                         and want to get him through us. You 
                         see, I don't give a shit who's 
                         President--I really don't, it's an 
                         adversary situation between them and 
                         us and it's always gonna be. I never 
                         had a closer friend than Jack Kennedy 
                         and once I printed something that 
                         pissed him off and for seven months 
                         I didn't exist.

               A wine steward appears, hands BRADLEE the list. As he examines 
               it, a man walks up to the table, stands there...

                                     MAN
                         You none of you know who I am, do 
                         you?
                              (they don't)
                         You screw me up good, you don't even 
                         know what I look like.

                                     BRADLEE
                         OK, you've had your preamble; who 
                         the hell are you?

                                     MAN
                         Glenn Sedam--you wrote about me last 
                         week, you said I was one of the guys 
                         at the Committee who was sent reports. 
                         You were wrong.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Baldwin told the FBI it was you.

                                     SEDAM
                         Baldwin told the FBI it was someone 
                         whose first name sounded like a last 
                         name. They showed him a list and he 
                         picked me but it wasn't me, it was 
                         Gordon Liddy.
                              (looks at the reporters)
                         My phone hasn't stopped ringing, my 
                         wife's hysterical, my kids think I'm 
                         mixed up with the burglary, my friends 
                         don't like me around all of a sudden.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--SEDAM

                                     SEDAM
                         You fucked around my life, you two.
                              (starts off)
                         I just wanted to say thanks.

               BRADLEE watching WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN, who are clearly 
               upset.

                                     BRADLEE
                         That didn't sound to me like a non-
                         denial denial; could you have been 
                         wrong?
                              (they nod)
                         You had a good source?
                              (nod)
                         Did he have an ax?
                              (pause. Then another 
                              nod)

               CLOSE UP--BRADLEE

                                     BRADLEE
                         All right, you made a mistake maybe, 
                         we all have, just don't make another. 
                         And watch your personal lives, who 
                         you hang around with. Someone once 
                         said the price of democracy is a 
                         bloodletting every ten years.
                              (beat)
                         Make sure it isn't our blood...

               Now from BRADLEE--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               HUGH SLOAN

               holding a broom and dustpan at his front door.

                                     SLOAN
                         I really can't talk now--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --this'll only take one second--

                                     SLOAN
                         --my wife just had the baby, my in-
                         laws are arriving, I'm trying to get 
                         the house in some kind of shape.

                                     WOODWARD
                         A boy or a girl?

                                     SLOAN
                         A girl. Melissa.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               INSIDE THE HOUSE. WOODWARD AND BERNSTEIN are helping SLOAN 
               with the housework. WOODWARD has a dust mop, BERNSTEIN a 
               dust cloth. We are mostly in the living room throughout, and 
               also throughout, the three guys beaver away tidying.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (holding up a cup)
                         Where does this go?

               SLOAN points to a shelf. WOODWARD moves to put the cup in 
               its proper place.

                                     WOODWARD
                         --That cash fund that financed the 
                         sabotaging of the Democrats--five 
                         guys had control--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (ticking them off)
                         --Mitchell, Stans, Magruder, Kalmbach--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --we're working on the last guy now 
                         and we're going all the way--that 
                         fifth man was Haldeman.

                                     SLOAN
                         --I'm not your source on that--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --it's gotta be Haldeman--someone 
                         from the White House had to be 
                         involved--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --and it wasn't Ehrlichman or Colson 
                         or the President.

                                     SLOAN
                         No, none of those.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --that leaves Haldeman, period.

                                     SLOAN
                         I'm not your source on that.

               He picks up a dust pan, starts sweeping it full.

                                     WOODWARD
                              (taking the dust pan, 
                              helping out)
                         --look, when the Watergate grand 
                         jury questioned you, did you name 
                         names?

                                     SLOAN
                         Of course--everything they asked--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --if we wrote a story that said 
                         Haldeman controlled the fund?--

                                     SLOAN
                         --let me put it this way: I'd have 
                         no problem if you did.

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN look at each other while SLOAN empties 
               the dust pan into the trash and from there, quickly--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A LONG LONG LONG SHOT OF A COUPLE

               walking in the park.

               We can't really make them out clearly, we never do in this 
               little sequence. But the guy is wearing a windbreaker and 
               has a crew cut and the woman with him is dressed casually 
               too. He has his arm around her, and they are deep in 
               conversation.

                                     WOODWARD'S VOICE (V.O.)
                         Hey?

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN sitting on a park bench swilling down 
               a six-pack.

                                     WOODWARD
                         I think that's him.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Who?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Haldeman.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE COUPLE walking along. We just can't quite make them out. 
               But it might be.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN staring after the couple, trying to 
               focus.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Nah.
                              (squints hard)
                         Maybe.

                                     WOODWARD
                         What if I went up and introduced 
                         myself--think he'd slug me?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Well, we are trying to ruin his life.

                                     WOODWARD
                         It's nothing personal, though.
                              (looks troubled)

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What's the matter?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Same as Magruder, I don't like it 
                         when they turn out to be human.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (nods)
                         I wish we were investigating Attila 
                         the Hun.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Maybe we are...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE SLOW-WALKING COUPLE. They continue on. We still don't 
               see them quite clearly. HOLD... then--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A PUDGY LITTLE MAN HALF-HIDDEN BEHIND A MAGAZINE.

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               A DRUGSTORE-TYPE PLACE. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN are at the 
               adjoining table.

                                     PUDGY MAN
                         --Goddamnit, I'm not gonna say it 
                         again--you get nothing about Haldeman 
                         outta me--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --we don't need it now, because 
                         tomorrow's story is about the FBI--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --about how all you supposed experts 
                         really blew the whole investigation--

                                     FBI GUY
                              (stung)
                         --we didn't miss so much--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --you never knew Haldeman had control 
                         of the slush fund--

                                     FBI GUY
                         --it's all in our files--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --not about Haldeman--

                                     FBI GUY
                         --yeah, Haldeman, John Haldeman.

               And he gets up quickly, goes. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN savor 
               the moment but only briefly as it hits them--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --Jesus--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --he said John Haldeman, not Bob 
                         Haldeman--

               And as they take off after the agent--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE'S OFFICE.

               WOODWARD, BERNSTEIN, BRADLEE, SIMONS, ROSENFELD. Wild tension. 
               The editors have a long story and they all read and pace, 
               read and pace; the reporters look traumatized with fatigue. 
               All this goes fast.

                                     BRADLEE
                              (staring at the typed 
                              story)
                         --I don't know, I don't know, it 
                         feels thin--

                                     SIMONS
                         --Christ, I wish I knew if we should 
                         print this--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --listen, we didn't make them do 
                         these things--once they did, it's 
                         our job to report it--

                                     SIMONS
                              (to the reporters)
                         --go over your sources again--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --Sloan told the Grand Jury--he 
                         answered everything they asked him--
                         that means there's a record somewhere--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --and the FBI confirms--what more do 
                         you need?--

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (whirling to BERNSTEIN)
                         --listen, I love this country, you 
                         think I want to bring it down?--I'm 
                         not some goddamn zany, I was a hawk--

                                     SIMONS
                         --Harry, weren't you just arguing 
                         the opposite way?--

                                     ROSENFELD
                         --maybe I'm tense--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --well shit, we oughtta be tense--
                         we're about to accuse Mr. Haldeman 
                         who only happens to be the second 
                         most important man in America of 
                         conducting a criminal conspiracy 
                         from inside the White House--
                              (beat)
                         --it would be nice if we were right--

                                     SIMONS
                              (to the reporters)
                         --you double-checked both sources?--

               They nod.

                                     BRADLEE
                         --Bernstein, are you sure on this 
                         story?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Absolutely--

                                     BRADLEE
                              (to WOODWARD)
                         --what about you?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I'm sure--

                                     BRADLEE
                         --I'm not sure, it still feels thin--
                              (looks at SIMONS)

                                     SIMONS
                              (to WOODWARD and 
                              BERNSTEIN, after a 
                              puse)
                         --get another source.

               Now quickly

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN huddling outside BRADLEE's office.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         How many fucking sources they think 
                         we got?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --Deep Throat won't confirm--I never 
                         thought he was scared of anyone, but 
                         he's scared of Haldeman.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I know a guy in the Justice Department 
                         who was around the Grand Jury.
                              (looks at WOODWARD)

                                     WOODWARD
                         --We got twenty minutes to deadline--

               And as he speaks

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BERNSTEIN talking softly from a relatively private phone in 
               the newsroom. The voice of the lawyer is also whispered and 
               scared to death.

                                     LAWYER'S VOICE (O.S.)
                              (barely audible)
                         ...You shouldn't ever call me like 
                         this, Carl...

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Will you confirm that Haldeman was 
                         mentioned by Sloan to the Grand Jury?

                                     LAWYER'S VOICE (O.S.)
                         ...I won't say anything about 
                         Haldeman... not ever...

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (desperate)
                         All right--listen--it's against the 
                         law if you talk about the Grand Jury, 
                         right? But you don't have to say a 
                         thing--I'll count to ten--if the 
                         story's wrong, hang up before I get 
                         there--if it's OK stay on the line 
                         till after, got it?

                                     LAWYER (O.S.)
                         Hang up, right?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         Right, right--OK, counting: one, two--
                              (he inhales deeply)
                         --three, four, five, six--
                              (now he's starting to 
                              get excited)
                         --seven, eight--
                              (inhales deeply)
                         --nine, ten, thank you.

                                     LAWYER (O.S.)
                         You've got it straight now? Everything 
                         OK?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (on a note of triumph)
                         Yeah!

               And on that shout

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A HEADLINE IN THE POST--A PHOTO VISIBLE OF HALDEMAN:

                      "TESTIMONY TIES TOP NIXON AIDE TO SECRET FUND"

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN

                                     WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN
                         On the record let me say just this: 
                         the story is totally untrue. On 
                         background, I'd like to add that Bob 
                         Haldeman is one of the greatest public 
                         servants this country has ever had 
                         and the story is a goddamned lie.

                                                          NOW FAST ZOOM TO:

               BRADLEE

               roaring out of his office doorway.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Woodstein!

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN tearing into BRADLEE's office--he 
               stands scowling at the TV set in a corner of the room--
               outside, it is raining like hell.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TV SET. SLOAN is walking along toward a large office 
               building, he is flanked by a lawyer. A TV Reporter (it was 
               DANIEL SCHORR) is walking alongside, mike in hand.

                                     SCHORR
                         Mr. Sloan, would you care to comment 
                         on your testimony before the Grand 
                         Jury.

                                     SLOAN
                         My lawyer says--

                                     SLOAN'S LAWYER
                         --the answer is an unequivocal no. 
                         Mr. Sloan did not implicate Mr. 
                         Haldeman in that testimony at all.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN. They look sick. Desperate, tired, 
               stunned, confused; there is nothing to say.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE glaring at them. HOLD ON BRADLEE... then

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

               in the rain, and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A CORRIDOR IN THE BUILDING AS THE PUDGY FBI MAN retreats 
               down the hall. WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN, soaked, chase after 
               him.

                                     FBI MAN
                         --I'll deny everything--everything--
                         I never talked to you about Haldeman--
                         I never talked to you about anything--
                         I'm not talking to you now--

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         --what went wrong?--

                                     WOODWARD
                         --for Chrissakes just tell that--

                                     PUDGY FBI MAN
                         --fuck you fuck you fuck you--

               And he tears into an office, slams the door and as we hear 
               it lock--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THIS IS WHERE THE SOURCE BURNING SCENE WOULD COME BUT I AM 
               NOT WRITING IT FOR THIS VERSION.

               My reasons are as follows: (1) it is a complicated long scene 
               to put down; (2) we are terribly late in our story; (3) it 
               would mean, here, two hours into the movie, we are bringing 
               in an entirely new character; the FBI agent's head to whom 
               they go, and I think that is unnecessary and confusing; and 
               (4) most important, I think the characters have been abused 
               enough in this version--we have added the Sedam scene and 
               they are berated more in this version by the CREEP people 
               before things turn. (5) Finally, all this can show in reality 
               is that they are desperate, and I would rather let the actors 
               give that to us. I feel that it would be a genuine error at 
               this time in the flick to go into the convolutions of how 
               it's bad manners for a reporter to burn a source, if we've 
               got anything going by this point, I can't conceive of much 
               an audience will be less interested in than the reporters 
               misbehaving.

               However, if the scene is requested next time through, I shall 
               be only too happy to oblige.

               What I would like to do is cut from the FBI saying "fuck you 
               fuck you fuck you" and locking his door to the following:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN walking in the rain. It's pouring as 
               they leave FBI Headquarters and they are in anguish.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                              (after a while)
                         Woodward?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hmm?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         What was the mistake? Do you think 
                         it's been rigged, all along the way, 
                         leading us on so they could slip it 
                         to us when it mattered? They couldn't 
                         have set us up better; after all 
                         these months our credibility's gone, 
                         you know what that means?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (nods)
                         Only everything...

               They are soaked, Nearby is a garbage can, they grab papers, 
               hold them over their heads, start to walk. Now--

               CAMERA MOVES UP HIGHER TO REVEAL

               The papers they grabbed were the Post front page. (This 
               happened.) And as they walked, the Haldeman story was on 
               their heads. HOLD on the reporters walking miserably through 
               the rain. Now--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE POST.

               A tremendous pall has settled on the city room. People walk 
               by, glancing at WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN, who sit almost 
               immobilized at their desks, wet, whipped; no energy left.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE'S OFFICE. SIMONS sits across from BRADLEE as ROSENFELD 
               enters quietly with a bundle of teletype paper.

                                     SIMONS
                              (indicating the papers)
                         More denunciations?

                                     ROSENFELD
                              (nods)
                         One Senator just gave a speech 
                         slurring us 57 times in 20 minutes.

               BRADLEE has started typing something brief. When ROSENFELD's 
               done, so is he. He hands it to SIMONS.

                                     SIMONS
                         What's this?

                                     BRADLEE
                         My non-denial denial.

                                     ROSENFELD
                         We're not printing a retraction?

                                                                    CUT TO:

               CLOSE UP--BRADLEE. He is thoughtful for a while. Then, 
               spinning around, staring out towards the newsroom:

                                     BRADLEE
                         Fuck it, let's stand by the boys.

               And he stands, spins out of the room as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE FLOWER POT ON WOODWARD'S TERRACE.

               The rain has stopped. The apartment is dark. It's late at 
               night. Inside, the phone RINGS and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD'S APARTMENT in the dark as he manages to knock the 
               phone off its cradle.

                                     WOODWARD
                         Hello?

                                     BERNSTEIN'S VOICE (O.S.)
                         What'd you find?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Jesus Christ, what time is it?

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         You overslept?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Goddamnit!--

               He fumbles for the lamp, as it falls with a CRASH--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD--MOVING. Hair wild, clothes half-buttoned, he runs 
               through the dark Washington streets as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               TWO WELL-DRESSED MEN in the shadows across the street, going 
               in the same direction and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD spotting them, picking up the pace and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TWO MEN moving faster too and now

                                                                    CUT TO:

               A BUNCH OF CABS. WOODWARD jumps into the first and as it 
               roars off

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TWO MEN getting into a cab also, roaring off in the same 
               direction and

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD'S CAB taking a corner fast and as it goes on, HOLD 
               until the second cab takes the same corner, faster, and now

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD jumping out of his cab, fumbling into his pockets 
               for change as we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TWO MEN getting out of their cab, paying, and as their 
               cab drives off

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD diving back into his cab and in a moment it is 
               roaring again through the night and we

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE TWO WELL-DRESSED MEN standing on the sidewalk, watching 
               as WOODWARD disappears into the night and then suddenly,

                                                                   ZOOM TO:

               DEEP THROAT IN CLOSE UP AND MAD.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         --you were doing so well and then 
                         you got stupid, you went too fast--
                         Christ, what a royal screw up--

               PULL BACK TO REVEAL

               DEEP THROAT and WOODWARD in the underground garage.

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I know, I know, the pressure's off 
                         the White House and it's all back on 
                         the Post--

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         --you've done worse than let Haldeman 
                         slip away, you've got people feeling 
                         sorry for him--I didn't think that 
                         was possible. A conspiracy like this--
                         the rope has to tighten slowly around 
                         everyone's neck. You build from the 
                         outer edges and you go step by step. 
                         If you shoot too high and miss, then 
                         everybody feels more secure. You've 
                         put the investigation back months.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We know that--and if we were wrong, 
                         we're resigning--were we wrong?

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         You'll have to find that out, won't 
                         you?--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD exploding.

                                     WOODWARD
                         --I'm tired of your chickenshit games--
                         I don't want hints, I want what you 
                         know!

                                                                    CUT TO:

               DEEP THROAT. He blinks for a moment. Then he begins to 
               whisper.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         It was a Haldeman operation--the 
                         whole business--he ran the money, 
                         but he was insulated, you'll have to 
                         find out how--

               WOODWARD takes a breath, nods.

                                     DEEP THROAT
                         --wait--
                              (almost a smile)
                         --there's more...

               And from his weathered face

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD

               walking up to his apartment house later that night. He sees, 
               and then we see, BERNSTEIN, asleep at the front door. He 
               comes awake as WOODWARD approaches.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We gotta go see Bradlee--I'll fill 
                         you in in the car.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE IN HIS DOORWAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

               It's a house with a lawn and from somewhere there is the 
               SOUND of dogs barking.

                                     BRADLEE
                         You couldn't have told me over the 
                         phone?

                                                                    CUT TO:

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN moving up the walk to BRADLEE.

                                     WOODWARD
                         We can't trust the phones, not 
                         anymore. Deep Throat says so.

               As WOODWARD beckons for him to move out into the lawn--

                                     BRADLEE
                         We can't talk inside either?

                                     WOODWARD
                              (headshake)
                         Electronic surveillance.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE THREE OF THEM MOVING OUT ONTO THE LAWN. It's October 
               now. You can see their breaths as they speak.

                                     BERNSTEIN
                         I finally got through to Sloan--it 
                         was all a misunderstanding that we 
                         had: he would have told the Grand 
                         Jury about Haldeman, he was ready 
                         to, only nobody on the Grand Jury 
                         asked him the goddamn question.

                                     WOODWARD
                         So I guess you could say that we 
                         screwed up, but we weren't wrong.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Anything else from Mr. Throat?

                                     WOODWARD
                         Mitchell started the cover-up early, 
                         everyone is involved in the cover-
                         up, all the way to the top. The whole 
                         U.S. intelligence community is mixed 
                         in with the covert activities. The 
                         extent of it is incredible.
                              (little pause)
                         And people's lives are in danger, 
                         maybe including ours.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               BRADLEE. He nods again, starts walking the two reporters 
               back toward WOODWARD's car.

                                     BRADLEE
                         He's wrong on that last, we're not 
                         in the least danger, because nobody 
                         gives a shit--what was that Gallup 
                         Poll result? Half the country's never 
                         even heard the word Watergate.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE RED KARMANN GHIA as the three approach.

                                     BRADLEE
                         Look, you're both probably a little 
                         tired, right?
                              (They nod)
                         You should be, you've been under a 
                         lot of pressure. So go home, have a 
                         nice hot bath, rest up fifteen minutes 
                         if you want before you get your asses 
                         back in gear--
                              (louder now)
                         --because we're under a lot of 
                         pressure, too, and you put us there--
                         not that I want it to worry you--
                         nothing's riding on you except the 
                         First Amendment of the Constitution 
                         plus the freedom of the press plus 
                         the reputation of a hundred-year-old 
                         paper plus the jobs of the two 
                         thousand people who work there--
                              (still building)
                         --but none of that counts as much as 
                         this: you fuck up again, I'm gonna 
                         lose my temper.
                              (pause; softer)
                         I promise you, you don't want me to 
                         lose my temper.
                              (shooing them off)
                         Move-move-move--what have you done 
                         for me tomorrow...?

               And as they get back into the car--

                                                                    CUT TO:

               THE NEWSROOM--EARLY MORNING

               and it's empty pretty much, except at their desks sit WOODWARD 
               and BERNSTEIN, typing away. They type on and on and as they 
               do, voices are HEARD, the same voices we've become familiar 
               with, the WESTERN SENATOR, the CREEP P.R. MAN and the WHITE 
               HOUSE SPOKESMAN.

                                     WESTERN SENATOR (O.S.)
                         Although I'm a Republican, I would 
                         like to state in a pure bipartisan 
                         spirit tht the greatest political 
                         scandal of this campaign is the brazen 
                         manner in which, without benefit of 
                         clergy, the Washington Post has set 
                         up housekeeping with the McGovern 
                         campaign...

                                     CREEP P.R. MAN
                         For twenty years, the Eastern liberal 
                         press has been trying to smear Dick 
                         Nixon. Fortunately, the American 
                         public is too smart to be fooled 
                         by...

                                     WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN
                         I have been informed reliably by 
                         John Dean that no one connected with 
                         the White House...

                                     WESTERN SENATOR
                              (coming in, overlapping)
                         It is only our pathetic Post that 
                         deliberately tries to infuse the 
                         Watergate caper with a seriousness 
                         far beyond those shenanigans that 
                         have been the stock trade of political 
                         pranksters ever since...

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN work on. And now, as the voices 
               continue condemning, we see them--all the President's men--
               as their faces flash on the screen for an instant--only these 
               aren't fashion portraits we're looking at, these are the mug 
               shots of the men taken when they went to jail and they flash 
               on, the mug shots and the name and across each the word 
               CONVICTED. There's VIRGILIO GONZALES--CONVICTED, and EUGENIO 
               MARTINEZ, CONVICTED, and FRANK STURGIS, CONVICTED, and BERNARD 
               BARKER, CONVICTED, and JAMES McCORD, CONVICTED, and HOWARD 
               HUNT, CONVICTED, and GORDON LIDDY, CONVICTED, and DONALD 
               SEGRETTI, CONVICTED, and DWIGHT CHAPIN, CONVICTED, and now 
               the denunciations are louder, shriller, briefer.

                                     WHITE HOUSE SPOKESMAN
                         An insult to the American public--

                                     CREEP P.R. MAN
                         --the deplorable tactics employed by 
                         the Washington Post--

                                     WESTERN SENATOR
                         --I have been given access to evidence 
                         in possession of the White House and 
                         that evidence--

               WOODWARD and BERNSTEIN type on. Their machines are the only 
               SOUND in the enormous room. And now more mug shots appear--

               JEB MAGRUDER, CONVICTED, EGIL KROGH, CONVICTED, JOHN DEAN, 
               CONVICTED, JOHN EHRLICHMAN, CONVICTED, CHARLES COLSON, 
               CONVICTED, HERBERT KALMBACH, CONVICTED, and LARUE and PORTER 
               and MITCHELL and HALDEMAN--all, all the President's men--
               CONVICTED. Now--

               THE CAMERA STARTS TO MOVE toward the pillar, the one that 
               separates the two reporters, and the denunciations are still 
               going on, but not so loud now, not so fierce.

                                     WESTERN SENATOR
                         Well, if I was wrong, I sure the 
                         hell wasn't alone--

                                     CREEP
                         --the fact remains that except for 
                         Watergate, we ran one hell of a great 
                         campaign...

               The CAMERA is almost at the pillar now.

               BERNSTEIN bums a cigarette from a cleaning lady. WOODWARD 
               kicks his typewriter. Then they both go back to work.

               Now we're at the pillar. That's all we see. Just that. And 
               all we HEAR is the two reporters working away, on and on 
               until--

                                                            FINAL FADE OUT:

                                         THE END

	





All the President's Men
Writers :   William Goldman
Genres :   Drama  Thriller
User Comments