That's a good idea.
Yeah.
- Wonderful, wouldn't it be? - Fishing?
You do fish?
- Of course! - He has a pole and everything.
- Oh, yes, everybody does. - You betcha.
- When would be a good time for you? - Friday.
- Friday's good. - Yeah. What time?
- 6:00. - A. M?
Oh, yes, he'll be there. Won't you, honey?
- Thank you. That's very kind. - My pleasure.
Maybe Paul could come, too.
That would be nice.
I'm sure Paul would love to go fishing with us.
- Can I come? - Not this time, honey.
Next time, okay?
Why don't you go with Neal, Norman?
Make your plans.
Oh, yeah.
The only plan Neal had was a trip to Black Jack's bar, an old freight car...
set in the woods where any honest policeman would be unlikely to find it.
It was this otter and her pups.
I had a hell of a time tracking them because they turn white in winter.
After a few shots of this vile whiskey brewed by Black Jack himself...
Neal began to hold forth.
He'd chosen Montana subjects to spin his lies about shooting, hiking, trapping.
Probably to impress the only other client at the bar.
A ploy that was beginning to pay off.
Anywho, she tried to lose me...
again and again.
She went by the name of Old Rawhide.
About ten years before, she'd been elected beauty queen of Wolf Creek.
She rode bareback standing up through the 100 inhabitants, mostly male.
Her skirts flew high, and she won the contest.
It's stiff! I couldn't feel my hands!
I'm thinking about my dog Sport that's with me.
If it gets any colder, I may have to slit him open...
and stick my hands in to keep them from freezing.
It would have been a tough thing to do.
But, hell, I did it before at the Yukon.
God knows I love that damn dog.
She still wore the divided skirts of a horsewoman...
although they must have been a hardship in her new profession.
There, on a branch waiting to jump on their first deer...
is the goddamn otter!
Hey, buster.
What's an otter doing on the top of Roger's Pass?
I thought they swam in the creeks.
Why don't you bring this lady a whiskey?
I've got to shove off.
Don't forget, ol' boy, Friday, fishing.
What?
What say?
They said I'd find you at your other office.
Yeah, deadline. Can't work there.
You come for a drink?
A favor.
Go fishing with me?
Sure.
That's marvy, because Jessie's got a brother...
in from California and...
I'm not gonna lie. He's a world champion peckerwood.
- Bait fisherman? - He didn't say.
Good Lord! George.
He's going to show up with a coffee can full of worms.
Red can. Hills Brothers. I'll lay a bet on it.
I promised Jessie.
Are you getting serious?
- What? - You son of a bitch. You're serious.
Well?
I don't know.
Then we ought to do it.
Whoa, whoa.
As I live and breathe.
Buster here wants to fish.
You're late, Neal.
Yeah, I didn't get in till late.
I didn't get in at all, but I was here.
Neal, Paul. Paul, Neal.
In Montana, three things we're never late for: Church, work and fishing.
Righty-o. Anywho...
- This is... - We've met.
Don't go away.
Watch the first step. It's a lulu.
- So. - You ready to...
What?
Fishing.
Buster wants to fish.
Neal, what about the bait?
Dumb Dora!
We're not going to catch anything. It's too damn hot.
May he catch three doses of clap.
Sure glad I didn't go home and get some sleep.
Where is he?
- Oh, God. - Geez!
I'll catch up.
Yeah.
I know. You got 20.
- Couldn't you find him? - The hell with him.
I thought we were supposed to help him.
How the hell do you help that son of a bitch?
By taking him fishing.
He doesn't like fishing. Doesn't like Montana. Sure as hell doesn't like me.
Well...
maybe what he likes is somebody trying to help him.
- You sank the beer, yeah? - You bet your life.
Let's go.
Oh, geez, I can taste it.
- Should we kill him? - Shit!
Goddamn it!
Holy Christ!
This is not good.
She's got a tattoo.
Initials?
"Love."
I can get in myself. I don't need help.
You got anything to drink, buster?
Buster's the one with the red ass.
- I'm in deep trouble. - Yeah. Want me to come and protect you?
Mrs. Burns would love to meet the girlfriend.
I ain't burned.
The sun don't bother me.
Yeah.
What do you think about me spending the night with you and the folks?
We come back here tomorrow, wipe this day oft the books.
It's a deal.
Come on, buster. I'm as dry as dirt.
Hark, fair Juliet speaks.
Good luck.
Sweet Jesus!
What have you done to my boy?
He tell asleep in the sun.
Oh, my Lord in heaven. It's all right.
It's all right, honey. We'll fix it.
You left him alone?
He brought someone, and...
You better go home.
I need a ride home.
You better hang on.
What are you...
I don't think you...
They send trains down here all the time, without a schedule.
You're not...
I don't think they can see us in here.
Well, thanks for the flight.
You're funny.
Oh? How am I funny?
You don't like my brother, do you?
No, I do not like your brother.
I don't know any card tricks.
But I like you, and I want to see you again.
- Hello, Jess. - Hey, Paul.
- How's your brother? - You both left him alone.
I'm sorry about that. That was my fault.
You're not forgiven.
Was Norman forgiven?
Norman's not funny.
I hung fresh towels on the washstand for you.
Did you remember to powder my toothbrush?
Let Paul tell his latest story.
Which one? The murder, the wreck or the fire?
I think they should put you on the church beat.
I agree.
Quote: "The Reverend Maclean had a nice roast while dining with his family.
All, except for the poor, elder son...
enjoyed it immensely."
- Norman, what's the matter? - He's not funny.
- Pardon me? - He's not tunny.
There are more important accomplishments, Norman.
It's all right it you're dull.
We're very proud of you.
I do have one story. No murder, no mayhem.
I interviewed the President.
- Calvin Coolidge? - The President?
- Mr. Coolidge? - When?
A few days ago. He was in Dakota, fly-fishing.
Fly-fishing!
Fly-fishing in a suit and tie, white gloves and patent-leather shoes.
I asked him. I went right up to him.
I said, "Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me what they're biting on?"
He says, "The end of my line."
- What? What? - The end of my line.
Then some of the locals came over, tied on a fly the size of a chicken.
OI' Cal, he heaves it out there.
Figured if he can't catch a trout, he'll scare one to death.
Did you get a picture?
Yeah. It'll be in the Sunday paper.
"Closemouthed Cal communes with the crappies."
Mother, that was amazing.
He usually only eats what he can hit on the road.
That was tunny.
I do worry about you.
- I'm gonna run over... Hmm? - What?
What?
I was just going to say...
I thought I'd go meet some of the old pals, being in town.
Don't you wait up.
I plan on eating the rest of this when nobody's looking.
I understand he's changed the spelling of our name.
"MacLean", with a capital 'L'.
Now everyone will think we're lowland Scots.
Howdy, Norman.
Hi there, Mr. Sweeney.
Who do you know at the University of Chicago?
Chicken in a car, car won't go.
That's how you spell "Chi-car-go!"
"Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass.
Of glory in the flower, we will grieve not.
Rather find strength in what remains behind."
"In the primal sympathy which having been must ever be."
"In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering."
"In the faith that looks through death."
"Thanks to the human heart by which we live.
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, its tears.
To me the meanest flower that blows...
can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."
- Good luck. We'll be rooting for you. - Here's sandwiches.
It was one week exactly before I spoke to Jessie again.
She called to tell me Neal was going back to California...
and that he would appreciate me seeing him off.
We love you. Good luck.
Though surprised by the invitation, I asked only one question of Jessie.
Did she want me to come? And she answered "Yes".
I love you. Don't forget to write.
If he came back next summer, would you try and help him?
It you wanted me to, I would try.
- He's not coming back. - At least he's got friends there.
Who? Ronald Colman?
Why is it that people who need the most help...
won't take it?
I don't know.
I don't cry, Norman.
Can I show you something?
Only it it's something good.
Read.
What do you think?
What do I think? I think it's the berries!
- You do? - Yes. To get away. Chicago. It's heaven.
- Have you ever been? - No, not anywhere.
Helena.
God, congratulations!
The truth is, I'm not sure I want to leave.
Montana? Why? It'll always be here.
Not Montana.
Then what?
What?
I'm not sure I want to leave you.
I just come from there, downing my liquid lunch.
You got to watch it, Fred. They're after you.
Well, now.
Give us a couple boilermakers.
Two up.
Well, here's to the heart, goddamn it.
Oh, Lordy.
I'm in love with Jessie Burns.
Jesus Christ, Norm.
With all the fish in the river.
Not like her.
Oh, right.
Not like her.
Congratulations.
I'm real happy for you.
Well, goddamn it, let's get the hell out of here and go celebrate.
Done.
Bananas today
We've got homegrown potatoes
- And vine-ripened tomatoes - It's a stinker.
- What? - It stinks.
What do you mean? It's a classic!
Really?
Yes. We have no bananas
We have no bananas today
Where are we?
Where are we going?
- Lolo. - Yup.
Figured you felt lucky tonight.
I could use some of the luck.
Jesus Christ! No, don't.
Don't be the professor tonight.
Preacher.
Hello, Frank.
Well, my gal Sal.
Sal? Hey, Sal?
Get a drink for my brother.
Bourbon.
In fact, how about a round on me?
He's in love.
Hang on.
Take care of him, Sal.
Not a good idea, Paul.
Fellas, got a chair for me?
Not for you, Paul.
- What do you want? - What?
Cards? What?
- What do you want? - Nothing.
A buck. I know Paul says he's paying, but...
Just games. Only games.
Let's go. Now.
We're getting out of here.
Righty-o.
Bye-bye, sonny.
- I'm not leaving. - What?
These hands are hot. I can feel it.
What? You can't go back.
It's fine. I'll be tine.
They won't let you play.
Yes, they will.
With what? You're in debt up to your neck!
Norm, it's my debt.
Okay? It's my debt.
Jesus Christ!
We never got to go fishing again.
Maybe we could go tomorrow. We could get Dad to come.
You ask him.
6:3o.
Boy, something smells good!
- Morning, everybody. - It's the muffins.
Perfect.
We're so glad you could make it.
- I wouldn't miss it. - Have any new stories to tell us?
A story?
All righty.
Geez.
I have one.
What?
I've been offered a job at the University of Chicago.
Yes?
Teaching literature.
What?
Starting tall term.
I'm going to take it.
I am pleased.
Yes, I am pleased!
- Well. - A professor!
A real professor.
Damnation.
I'm proud of you.
Be sure to take pictures.
- We're gonna catch some big fish. - Yes, we are.
Let's go!
Remember those rocks we used to build our fireplace?
- Those were big rocks. - Nearly a billion years old.
- Halt a billion, Norman. - Come on.
Well!
I believe the high road will suit me better.
There was a time.
You'll make a killing.
He'll make a killing.
- Let's fish together today. - Good.
- What are they biting on? - What?
- What are they biting on? - Louder!
I said...
Bunyon bugs.
Want me to bring you one?
No, I'll come and get it.
Bunyon bugs, stone fly number two.
Thank you, O merciful professor of poetry and trout.
I'm going to ask Jessie to marry me.
Yes...
quite a day.
Why don't you come with us to Chicago?
It's 2,000 miles away. They've got more than a dozen papers there.
You'd be right in the middle of things.
What do you say?
Come with us.
I'll never leave Montana, brother.
Oh me, oh my!
Look at that fish!
Unbelievable!
At that moment I knew surely and clearly...
that I was witnessing perfection.
You are a tine fisherman.
Only need three more years before I can think like a fish.
You're already thinking like a deadstone fly. Pictures!
Mother's pictures.
- Hurry up. - One.
Two.
My brother stood before us, not on a bank of the Big Blackfoot River...
but suspended above the earth...
free from all its laws, like a work of art.
Three.
And I knew just as surely and just as clearly...
that life is not a work of art...
and that the moment could not last.
When the police awakened me one morning before Jessie and I left for Chicago...
I rose and asked no questions.
He drove me back home down the length of the river...
so that I could tell my father and mother...
that Paul had been beaten to death by the butt of a revolver...
and his body dumped in an alley.
Is there anything else you can tell me?
Nearly all the bones in his hand were broken.
Which hand?
His right hand.
As time passed, my father struggled for more to hold onto...
asking me again and again had I told him everything.
Finally I said to him...
"Maybe all I really know about Paul...
is that he was a fine fisherman."
"You know more than that", my father said.
"He was beautiful."
That was the last time we ever spoke of my brother's death.
Indirectly, though, Paul was always present in my father's thoughts.
I remember the last sermon I heard him give...
not long before his own death.
Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives...
look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question.
"We are willing to help, Lord...
but what, if anything, is needed?"
It is true we can seldom help those closest to us.
Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give...
or more often than not, the part we have to give...
is not wanted.
And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us...
but we can still love them.
We can love completely...
without complete understanding.
Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead.
Even Jessie.
But I still reach out to them.
Of course, now I'm too old to be much of a fisherman.
And now I usually fish the big waters alone...
although some friends think I shouldn't.
But when I am alone in the half-light of the canyon...
all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories...
and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm...
and the hope that a fish will rise.
Eventually, all things merge into one...
and a river runs through it.
The river was cut by the world's great flood...
and runs over rocks from the basement of time.
On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops.
Under the rocks are the words...
and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.