Paul Schrader - Taxi Driver: First Rally lyrics

EXT. CHARLES PALANTINE RALLY - DAY A rally platform in a supermarket parking lot somewhere in QUEENS is draped in red, white and blue bunting. A CROWD of about 500 persons mills about, waiting for the rally to begin. Piped pop-country MUSIC plays over the loudspeaker system. The CADRE OF SECRET SERVICE MEN, with their distinctive metallic grey suits, sun gla**es and football physiques, stands out in the CROWD. On the PLATFORM are seated an a**ortment of LOCAL POLITICOS as well as some PALANTINE WORKERS and ADVISERS. TOM is silently reading something on the podium, and BETSY stands on the platform steps talking with ANOTHER WORKER. TOM looks up and to his left for a moment, then returns to what he was reading. Then he returns his gaze to the upper left, watching something very closely. After a moment he walks over to the steps where BETSY is standing. TOM: Betsy, come over here a moment. BETSY: What is it? I'm busy. TOM (insistent): Just follow me. BETSY excuses herself and walks across the platform with TOM. As they stand to the rear of the platform, TOM secretively makes a gesture with his eyes and says out of the side of his mouth: TOM: Look there. (her eyes follow his) No, over further - get your gla**es - yes, over there. Isn't that little guy the same guy that was bugging you around the office about a month ago? BETSY, putting on her gla**es, looks closely. She tries not to make her stare too obvious. BETSY: No, I don't think so. (a beat) That's someone else. TOM: Now look more closely. Look around the eyes and chin. See? See there? CAMERA CLOSES IN on TRAVIS BICKLE standing in the CROWD: he has shaved his head to a short stubble. There he is: brush-cut, wearing a giant grin, and a large "Palantine '72" bu*ton. Although it is a pleasant sunny day, TRAVIS wears a bulky bulged-out Army jacket. TRAVIS looks warily from side to side and vanishes in the CROWD. A SHORT WHILE LATER, TRAVIS walks up to a SECRET SERVICE MAN standing near the fringes of the CROWD. The SECRET SERVICE MAN -- in sun gla**es, grey suit, ever-roving eyes -- is immediately identifiable. Whenever TRAVIS confronts a symbol of authority, he becomes like a young boy. This time is no exception, although one suspects there is a plan hatching beneath that boyish exterior. The SECRET SERVICE MAN, for his part, is about as talkative as the Sphinx. TRAVIS: Are you a Secret Service Man? SECRET SERVICE MAN (indifferently): Why do you ask? TRAVIS: I've seen a lot of suspicious-looking people around here today. SECRET SERVICE MAN glances at TRAVIS momentarily. SECRET SERVICE MAN: Who? TRAVIS: Oh, lots. I don't know where they all are now. There used to be one standing over there. (points) SECRET SERVICE MAN's gaze follows TRAVIS' finger for a second, then return to TRAVIS. TRAVIS (CONTD): Is it hard to get to be a Secret Service Man? SECRET SERVICE MAN: Why? TRAVIS: I kinda thought I might make a good one. I'm very observant. SECRET SERVICE MAN: Oh? TRAVIS: I was in the Army too. (beat) And I'm good with crowds. The SECRET SERVICE MAN is starting to get interested in TRAVIS: he definitely ranks as a suspicious character. SECRET SERVICE MAN: Is that so? TRAVIS: What kind of guns do you guys use? .38's? The SECRET SERVICE MAN decides it's time to get some more information on TRAVIS: SECRET SERVICE MAN: Look, um, if you give me your name and address, we'll send you the information on how to apply. TRAVIS: You would, huh? SECRET SERVICE MAN (taking out notepad): Sure. TRAVIS: My name is Henry Krinkle -- that's with a "K." K-R-I-N-K-L-E. I live at 13 1/2 Hopper Avenue, Fair Lawn, New Jersey. Zip code 07410. (a beat) Got that? SECRET SERVICE MAN: Sure, Henry. I got it all. We'll send you all the stuff all right. TRAVIS: Great, hey. Thanks a lot. The SECRET SERVICE MAN motions to a SECRET SERVICE PHOTOGRAPHER to catch a picture of TRAVIS. TRAVIS notices this, and quickly slips away into the CROWD.