Manhattan.
New York.
U.S.A.
In any discussion of contemporary America...
... and how its people live, we must inevitably start with Manhattan.
New York City, U.S.A.
Manhattan, glistening modern giant of concrete and steel...
... reaching to the heavens and cradling in its arms 7 millions.
Seven millions.
Happy beneficiaries of the advantages and comforts this great metropolis has to offer.
Its fine, wide boulevards facilitate the New Yorker's carefree, orderly existence.
A transportation system second to none in passenger comfort.
Quaint little sidewalk cafés make for leisurely, gracious living.
For its nature lovers, the peace and privacy of a day in the sun.
The city offers delightful changes in climate.
Well, I'll tell you.
Jim Blandings is part of the fabric of this town.
Born and raised right here, he's as typical a New Yorker as anyone you'll ever meet.
At least, he was.
If you wanna know the real story, I guess I'm your boy. My name's Cole. Bill Cole.
I'm Jim's lawyer and "best friend."
Jim's one of those bright young fellas you see around.
College graduate, ad business, lovely wife, two fine kids, makes about 15,000 a year.
Jim and Muriel Blandings are just like thousands of other New Yorkers:
Modern cliff dwellers.
The morning it all started was just another of those crisp September mornings.
And the Blandings were still asleep.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Betsy? - Okay, Dad.
- Joan. - Okay, Dad.
No. Good morning, Theodore.
- Good morning, Mr. Blandings. - Good morning, Gussie.
Thank you.
Looking for something?
My socks.
Why don't you look in your sock drawer.
That's where I found my underwear.
- Well, try your underwear drawer. - I am in my underwear drawer.
Well, they must be somewhere. Socks don't get up and walk away by themselves.
Muriel, I thought we had it clearly understood that these two...
Two and a half top drawers were mine. I thought... Why do...?
The closet. That's where they are. We put them in the closet.
- Put what in the closet? - Your socks.
- There wasn't room in the drawers. - There's a lot in the closet.
So Gussie and I decided that from now on we'd keep them in a basket on the shelf.
Basket.
This? This.
Jim, dear, I do wish you'd try to make a little effort.
I'll try, dear.
Father, just one morning, I wish you'd knock.
I beg your pardon.
Washcloth, dear.
Thank you.
Towel, dear.
- Lf you don't mind, dear. - One moment.
Take your time. I can spare the blood.
- Did you cut yourself? - I cut myself every morning.
I kind of look forward to it.
- Why don't you use an electric razor? - Can't get used to them.
Silly.
- Bill Cole's been using one for years. - He hasn't got my beard.
- Bill's beard is just as coarse... - I am not interested in discussing...
...the grain and texture of Bill Cole's hair follicles before I've had my breakfast.
All I said was, why don't you use an electric razor?
Because I prefer the clean sweep of the tempered steel as it glides smoothly...
No advertising copy, please.
- And hurry up. You'll be late for breakfast. - Yeah. Sure.
- Who did it? Yes? - I did.
Haven't I repeatedly told you not to cut up the paper until I've read it?
I'm sorry, Father. It's necessary research.
What? Another of Ms. Stellwagon's so-called progressive projects?
Coming through, Theodore.
Does Theodore have to have breakfast with us? Can't you take him to the living room?
Dear.
Why send your children to an expensive school...
...if you undermine the teacher's authority in your dining room?
I'm not undermining anything. I'm in the advertising business.
Keeping abreast of the times is important.
So is your child's education.
- That's not the point. - It certainly is.
- Not. - Bicker, bicker, bicker.
You drink your milk.
Joan, every time Father and I have a lively discussion, we aren't necessarily bickering.
What is it, Betsy? Another English composition?
Ms. Stellwagon has assigned us to take a classified ad...
...and write a human-interest theme on it.
I found one typical of the disintegration of our present society.
I wasn't aware of the fact our society was disintegrating.
I didn't expect you to be, Father.
Ms. Stellwagon says middle-class people like us are prone to overlook...
Muriel, this is asking a lot, but just one morning...
...I would like to sit and have breakfast without social significance.
You must take more interest in your children's education.
Can't squeeze blood from a turnip.
All right. I listen.
- Shoot. - It's just 16 words.
I'm going to call it A Minor Tragedy of Our Times.
Well?
"Forced to sell. Farm dwelling.
Original beams. Barn.
Apple orchard. Trout stream.
Seclusion. Superb view.
Will sacrifice."
- Go on. - That's all.
- That's all? - You don't see it, do you, Father?
A fellow wants to sell his house, he puts an ad in the paper.
What'd you expect him to do, take it to the United Nations?
There's more to it than that, isn't there, dear?
Certainly, Mother. What some people don't see is the whole sordid picture.
A poor, honest farmer pushed to the wall by hardship.
Until finally, in desperation, he's forced to sell...
...and stoops to the crass commercialism of newspaper advertising.
Oh, indeed. Newspaper advertising? Crass commercialism?
Ms. Stellwagon says advertising is a basically parasitic profession.
You don't say.
Ms. Stellwagon says advertising makes people who can't afford it...
...buy things they don't want with money they haven't got.
Oh, she does, does she? Well, perhaps your Ms. Stellwagon is right.
Perhaps I'll quit this basically parasitic profession.
Which at the moment is paying for your fancy tuition.
And those extra French lessons. And that progressive summer camp.
To say nothing of the very braces on your back teeth.
You shouldn't discuss money in front of the kids.
Why not? They spend enough of it.
Bicker, bicker, bicker.
Girls, get your things and run along. You'll be late for school.
Bye, Daddy.
Give my regards to Ms. Stellwagon.
I'll get it.
- Hello. We haven't seen you in ages! - Morning, Bill.
- Betsy, is your mother up? - She's in there.
- Come on, Betsy. - Wait.
Bye.
- Morning, Muriel. - Good morning, Bill.
- Hi, Jim. - Hello, Bill.
- Aren't you going to Lillie and Paul's? - I am. They'll get me soon.
I thought I'd return these in case you want to go through with that Funkhauser deal.
- Thanks. - Cup of coffee, Bill?
- Yeah, thanks. I will. - Gussie.
Personally, I think he's 2, $3000, out of line.
Yes, I suppose so.
Of course, you could save that amount by not tearing out the living room wall.
- Sort of impractical anyway. - I guess so.
What wall? Who are you talking about? Who's Funkhauser?
- Bunny Funkhauser. - Who?
You remember Bunny Funkhauser, dear.
That clever, young interior decorator we met at the Collins' cocktail party?
You mean that young man with the open-toed sandals?
What about him?
Well...
You know how long we've said...
...we've got to do something about fixing up this apartment.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, he called.
And I asked him to come over.
And he had some simply wonderful ideas.
And...
...I didn't want to bother you with sketches and estimates...
...until I knew whether we could afford it.
So I sent them over to Bill.
How much?
Why ask how much until you know what you're going to get?
I've seen Bunny Funkhauser. I know what I'm getting.
- I think he's got some interesting sketches. - He's terribly clever. Look.
Here's how he sees our living room. Isn't it charming?
What's that, a shoeshine stand?
It's a cobbler's bench, dear.
The room's Colonial. Breakfront. Hooked rug.
Student lamp. Pie cooler. And over here is a Martha Washington desk.
And where do I keep my powdered wig?
I think it's perfect. It's us.
Bunny says we're very American.
Very grassroots. Very blueberry pie.
Well, don't look at me. Bunny said it.
Now, here in the hall...
How much is all this going to cost?
Well...
...the figure isn't accurate, because it includes...
How much?
- Well, $ 7000, Jim, but... - $ 7000!
Well, that includes tearing out a wall.
- And I quite agree with Bill... - Oh, you do?
You're some lawyer.
A defenseless woman without any conception of the value of a dollar...
...comes to you for advice and you've got her tearing out walls.
I am on record as being opposed to tearing out walls, and so is the woman.
- Lf you'd only listen... - $ 7000 dollars?
I wouldn't put 7 cents into this broken-down rattrap.
Jim, how can you talk that way?
This is our home. Betsy was practically born in this apartment.
That does not make it a national shrine.
Now, wait. When I came in this morning, I had no intention of sending you to Reno.
- I thought I was doing you a favor. - He was.
He was showing you how to save $3000 by not tearing out a wall.
I can save $ 7000 by not doing anything at all.
Yeah. You can save another 3500 by not buying her that mink coat.
- You don't take a cruise to the West Indies... - All right, Bill. All right.
Not a bad day.
You've already saved $ 15,000 and it's not even 9:00.
See you next week. Bye, Jim.
- Bye, dear. - Have a nice weekend.
- Wait, I'll go down with you. - All right.
Seven thousand dollars.
Blueberry pie.
- Morning, Mary. - Morning.
- What's that? - Seems we're in the midst of a situation.
"W-H-A-M. Wham. A whale of a ham."
- Why's it here? That's Johnson's headache. - Not anymore.
Mr. Johnson is no longer with us. Mr. Johnson lost the touch.
- Guess whose headache it is now? - Oh, no.
- Oh, yes. - Oh, no.
On your desk you will find a directive from the high command.
What a morning. Bunny Funkhauser, blueberry pie and Wham.
How's that?
Nothing, Mary. Just a private joke between me and whoever's going to be my analyst.
They sent down Mr. Johnson's handiwork before he was drummed from the corps.
July: "When you've got the whim, say, 'Wham."'
August, House and Stream: "For a grand slam in ham, try Wham."
I have some more over here. Balance of last year's campaign.
September's the little gem that cost him his job.
Just a minute.
Mary.
Would you spend $ 7000 to tear out someone else's walls...
...when, for a few thousand more, you could find a nice old place in Connecticut...
...fix it up and have the dream house you've always wanted?
I beg your pardon?
Well, that's the way it all started.
The ad was enough to convince Jim.
But Muriel was a little tougher.
I guess the corsage did it.
There they are.
Two little fish from New York out in the deep waters of Connecticut real estate.
That's Smith, the real estate salesman.
Mighty shrewd cookie, in a quiet sort of way.
Yes, sir, he knows a sucker... I mean customer, when he sees one.
He sees one.
Well, Smith, looks like you're finally gonna unload the old Hackett place.
The old, very old Hackett place.
Well, folks. There she is.
It's charming.
That is, for an old house.
You understand, Mr. Smith, we're just window-shopping. Nothing definite.
Oh, perfectly all right.
Not a bad-looking house.
But it's a lot older than anything we had in mind.
Well, she's no spring chicken.
But that's just what makes her such a buy. Yep.
A man's got just about everything he'd need here. A nice big hay barn.
Couple of fruit orchards just over the hill.
Virgin stand oak grove other side the trout stream there.
The trout stream will give you your own pure, clear, cold mountain water.
Paved highway right to your door.
Grocer from town delivers twice a week.
Easy commuting distance, yeah.
58 minutes from New York City.
Brand-new high school right down the road.
Yes, sir, 50 mighty pretty little acres.
Fine old house too.
Four family bedrooms, plenty of closet space.
However, it's not just all these, you know.
- You're buying a piece of American history. - Really? How's that?
Why, first year she was built, General Gates stopped right here to water his horses.
Old General Gates, huh? Civil War.
Revolutionary War.
Oh, that General Gates.
But I'm not trying to sell you anything, understand. All I'm saying is that one day...
...someone with a little imagination's gonna come along and steal this place.
And I mean steal it.
I don't have to tell you, Mrs. Blandings...
...what a woman's touch could do to a place like this.
Yes, sir. You've certainly got to visualize.
Couple coats of paint, a little pointing up here and there.
Shall we go up and take a look at her?
Well, I suppose as long as we're here.
I guess it doesn't hurt to take a look.
I'll just see if the keys are up there where I left them.
It has possibilities. You think we can get it?
Like taking candy from a baby.
- Now, don't lose your head. - You just keep quiet, dear. Let me handle it.
Tell me, Smith, what kind of price is the owner asking for this old place?
What do you think, Bill? Steal, huh?
"Steal" is an understatement.
"Swindle" might be more appropriate.
Oh, well...
What do you mean?
Every time you get tight, you weep on my shoulder about the advertising business.
How it forces a sensitive soul like yourself to live by bamboozling the American public.
I would say a small part of that victimized group has now redressed the balance.
- What are you talking about? - You.
You got taken to the cleaners, don't even know your pants are off.
Darling, I told you. I said we ought to call Bill.
Now, Muriel. All right, just what's wrong with this deal?
First time around, you offered $ 10,000 for 50 acres, right?
- What of it? - That's $200 an acre.
I know that part of Connecticut. $ 100 an acre...
...is standard top-gouge price to city slickers.
When the natives sell to each other, it's around 40 or less.
Forty!
The man's entitled to a fair profit.
Not 284 percent.
Besides, you're not getting 50 acres, you're only getting 35, more or less.
- Where does it say that? - I refer to a rather obscure postscript...
...on the back of the second letter from friend Smith.
"Incidentally, Mr. Hackett has been a little optimistic about the acreage.
It will probably survey somewhere in the neighborhood...
...of 35 acres, more or less."
All right, so it's 35. What's the difference?
Do you know how many tennis courts you can get on 35 acres?
You're not spending $ 11,500 for tennis courts.
- That's not the point. - That's precisely the point.
We'll write Hackett a strong letter. Tell him he can kick in those 15 acres...
...reduce the price or find another sucker.
We'll do no such thing. I'm not gonna queer this deal over 15 broken-down acres.
- You just don't understand business. - You mean extortion.
Now, wait a minute. Now, put that thing down.
Look, you can't measure everything on a slide rule.
- This house has intangibles. - Like what, for instance?
Like antique value, for instance.
It just so happens that General...
...Gates stopped at that very house to water his horses.
I don't care if General Grant dropped in for Scotch and soda, you're getting rooked.
That was a different war.
I think Bill's absolutely right.
Let me explain something to you both.
For 15 years I've been cooped up in a four-room cracker box.
Just getting a morning shave entitles a man to the Purple Heart.
That still doesn't make it a good buy.
Bill.
Muriel and I have found what I'm not ashamed to call our dream house.
It's like a painting. You buy it with your heart, not your head.
You don't ask, "How much was the paint? The canvas?"
You look at it. And you say, "It's beautiful. I want it."
And if it costs a few more pennies, you pay it and gladly.
Because you love it.
And you can't measure the things you love in dollars and cents.
Well, anyway, that's the way I feel about it.
When I sign on Saturday, I can look the world in the face and say, "It's mine.
My house. My home.
My 35 acres."
Our house. Our home.
Our 35 acres.
More or less.
So Jim cashed in his government bonds.
Gave old man Hackett a $ 6000 mortgage...
... and bought the place.
Then they drove me out to see it.
This isn't the way we came with Mr. Smith.
What in the world are "Shrunk Mills"?
Probably mills that have shrunk.
Seems to me we go left.
Over the bridge and turn right.
Left.
Congress ought to pass a law.
When a man buys a house in Lansdale, there's a prize. 10 percent off if he finds it.
- Over the bridge and turn right. - Left.
If you really want to find that house, it's no problem.
Pretend you're one of General Gates' horses and you're very thirsty.
Where would you go for a drink of water?
Well, I must admit, it's a very beautiful thing.
The house and the lilac bush at the corner are just the same age, Bill.
If a lilac can live and be so old, so can the house.
It just needs someone to love it, that's all.
It's good there are two of you. One to love it, one to hold it up.
What'd your engineer say about the foundation and the roof?
Who needs engineers? This isn't a train.
I just saw it move.
It's stood since the second year of the Continental Congress.
You take one look at it and shingles start to fall off.
Let me do you a favor. I've got a client, structural engineer, Joe Apollonio.
Practically built the George Washington Bridge.
Thanks a lot, but we're not building a bridge.
He advised the government not to raise the Normandie.
They didn't listen, cost them $5 million.
You have my word. If I were raising the Normandie...
...I wouldn't make a move without Apollonio. Would you like to come in?
No, thanks.
Muriel!
I think you'd better get in touch with Mr. Apollonio.
The house has charm, hasn't it, Mr. Apollonio?
Any small changes would have to conform to the character of the countryside.
And still be functional.
What is your professional opinion?
- Tear it down. - Tear it down?
If your sills were shot and your timbers was okay, I'd say fix her up.
If your timbers were shot and sills was okay, I'd say fix her up.
But your sills are shot and your timbers are shot.
I'll show you.
Take a look at the way what she leans. Here.
It has to be level.
So I say, don't throw good money after bad. Tear it down. Good day.
- Thanks a lot. - That's okay.
And I send my bill to your office.
Bill Cole and his experts.
Never mind, darling. We'll get our own experts.
And so they got their own experts.
- Mr. Simpson said: - Tear it down.
- On the other hand, Mr. Murphy said: - Tear it down.
That's how our friend Mr. Simms came into it.
He said it was possible to fix up the old place.
But why not build a new house, same size?
It certainly wouldn't cost any more. "Why not look at a floor plan?"
Here we are. Something like this.
First floor, living room, dining room, study...
...kitchen, breakfast room, service porch, maid's rooms.
Upstairs, three family bedrooms with two adjoining baths.
Well, it's very nice.
But don't you think it's a little conventional?
Yes, Mr. Simms, of course...
...if we were going to build a house, we'd want it...
...well, just a little bit different.
Yes. Of course, this is just a point of departure.
You don't have to adhere to any of this.
Well, I don't think we're at all ready to commit ourselves.
- Oh, no. - Of course not. I understand.
Well, now, if this were my house, I'd...
Well, I mean...
Now, here, for instance...
Now. In the study...
...if we could push out this wall a little and put in a built-in bar...
Excuse me, dear.
These bedrooms are too small.
And we'll have to have a little dressing room.
Yeah, and closets, Mr. Simms, plenty of closets.
- One thing this family needs is closets. - Lf I might make a suggestion...
And bathrooms, Mr. Simms.
Each bedroom must have at least one bathroom.
But that would be four bathrooms, Mrs. Blandings. I better point out...
I was wondering, do you think we could manage a playroom in the basement?
You know, nothing tremendous. Something like this.
Well, of course, it's always possible. But our fundamental problem...
And I've always wanted a little sewing room.
A little utility room upstairs...
...where I could be alone and sew or sulk on a rainy afternoon.
Pardon me, dear. Now, Mr. Simms, about that playroom...
...not too small. Plenty of room for dodge, Ping-Pong, nice big poker table.
Yes. If you don't mind...
- Off the kitchen, a flower sink... - There should be a terrace...
...a stone floor and shelves... ...an awning and fireplace...
...and a closet for gardening things... ...a barbecue thing. A roasting thing.
A rotisserie. For Sunday afternoons.
Well, let's see what we have here.
In the first place, I'm afraid...
In the first place, you've got the upstairs about twice as big as the downstairs.
- It's all those bathrooms. - It's all those closets.
By extending that breakfast room, you've eliminated the possibility of stairs.
I've allowed for that. You can put them in behind the pantry.
Mrs. Blandings, on that sewing room, the way you have it there...
...the chimney stack would come up through the room...
...leaving you with the shape of a square doughnut.
Which might be very warm in winter, but otherwise of doubtful utility.
Can't you put the chimney somewhere else?
Look, I think I know just about what you two have in mind.
Suppose I go ahead with preliminary plans...
...and we get together in a week. - All right. You do that.
- Fine. - Holy smoke!
I'm afraid we didn't realize.
Well, Mr. Simms. Don't you forget, we've got to hold it down under 10,000.
That, I can tell you right now, is impossible.
Even with trimming of the things you've indicated...
...I don't see how we can bring it in for less than 12 or 12,500.
Twelve thousand, five hundred?
I guess we won't quibble about a few pennies one way or the other.
By the way, have you any notions as to how you'd like the old place taken down?
Why don't we just blow on it.
Well, so far it's cost us $ 13,329.45.
But we have the nicest vacant lot in the state of Connecticut.
Something will have to be cut. These plans are too elaborate...
...for the money you have to spend. - All right.
I'll make the sacrifice. You can cut it out.
- Now we're getting somewhere. - What's happening?
Dad just lost his playroom.
Muriel, as the house stands now, it's over $ 15,000.
- Mother, may we put Theodore to bed? - Yes.
It just doesn't seem possible for a house with such small rooms.
I've already explained. It's not so much the size of the rooms as it is the number.
Is it essential for each of your daughters...
...to have her own room with two closets and a bath?
Yes.
You see, my daughters are approaching womanhood and...
I didn't realize they were approaching it quite so fast.
Perhaps what you need is not so much a house as a series of little bungalows...
...each with two closets and a private bath.
Well, what about that silly flower sink? We could lose that.
I beg your pardon.
Or that sewing room. That's a waste.
May I suggest that neither of these are really major eliminations?
- Lf you could do with one less bathroom... - Sorry, we couldn't possibly.
A simple bathroom, 8 by 10 by 8...
...with grade-A fixtures will cost around $ 1300.
I refuse to endanger my children's health in a house with less than four bathrooms.
For $ 1300, they can live in a house with three bathrooms and rough it.
- Why, Bill! - Hello, Muriel.
Well, you've done it again.
Once, just once, why don't you come to me and find out if it's legal...
...before you go barging off and run yourself into another jam?
- What's eating you? - Simms, I hold you equally responsible.
- What happened? - I don't understand.
- Did you let this idiot tear down that house? - What of it?
Reconstruction was unsound and totally impractical.
But you're dealing with a man who doesn't think before he acts.
- Who goes off half-cocked. - What did I do?
You're an architect. You were aware of the legality.
- What legality? - There was a mortgage on that house.
- I assumed as much. - What are you talking about?
- What did you do? - I don't know. They won't tell me.
Certainly, but since you were his lawyer, I assumed...
With a guy like this, don't assume.
Just a minute. I'm entitled to know what I did.
This is America. A man is guilty until proven innocent.
It's the other way around, Father.
- You go to bed. - Girls.
Bill, would you mind telling me in clear, concise English...
...just what crime I've committed and why?
In clear, concise English, you tore down a house...
...on which another man holds a mortgage without getting his written permission.
Well, l... I did?
And in such case, the mortgagee can demand full payment of said mortgage.
Mr. Ephemus Hackett so demands.
Six thousand clams.
And he wants them now.
- Now? - You've got 10 days.
Ms. Stellwagon says the parents' problems should be the children's problems.
Well, you keep that in mind, dear, it'll help prepare you for motherhood.
- We'd better let the plans go for now. - No, Simms. I'll work this out.
- Go ahead and let's see some estimates. - Very well. You'll hear from me soon.
- Good night, Mr. Cole. - Good night.
- Six thousand dollars. - Good night, Mr. Simms.
Good night.
What are you gonna do about the collateral on your loan?
Turn in my insurance policies or something.
- Jim, you can't do that. - Why not?
Why, if anything should happen, the children would be left unprotected.
- I'm not dead yet. - Well, of course you're not.
I'll see the boys at the bank. Maybe you can put up your insurance as collateral.
If necessary...
...l'll sign a personal note.
Thanks, Bill.
Well, I gotta run along.
Jim, do me a little favor.
The next time you're gonna do anything or say anything or buy anything...
...think it over very carefully.
When you're sure you're right, forget the whole thing.
- Good night, Muriel. - Good night, Bill.
What a wonderful friend.
What's with all this kissing all of a sudden?
What's that?
Just because a man helps in a business way doesn't give him privileges with my wife.
That's a fine thing to say about a friend of 15 years.
Well, I just don't like it.
Every time he goes out of this house, he shakes my hand and he kisses you.
Would you prefer it the other way around?
Why is he always hanging around? Why doesn't he ever get married?
Because he can't find another girl as pretty and sweet and wholesome as I am.
Darling, let's not be silly about this.
It isn't Bill, it's the house that's upsetting you.
I suppose so.
- Do you think it's worth all this? - Of course it is.
It isn't a house we're building, it's a home.
For ourselves and our children.
Maybe our children's children.
Each with two closets and a private bath.
Well, here are the estimates.
Before you look, I think I better explain.
Don't bother, Mr. Simms. We're getting to be old hands at this sort of thing.
Of course, these bids are obviously way out of line.
That is, all except John Retch & Son at 21,000.
- Twenty-one thousand! - With some judicious cutting...
...I think we could pare that down to 18. - We've asked for the barest necessities.
- Frankly, with all the extras... - Never mind, Mr. Simms.
Send us a bill for your services. I'll see it's taken care of.
- Goodbye, Mr. Simms. - But one moment.
- In the first place... - In the first place...
...I am going out to get my head examined. If I don't jump off the Brooklyn Bridge...
...l'm going to find the owner of our apartment building and sign a 20-year lease.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye, sir.
- Goodbye, Mr. Simms. - Goodbye, Mrs. Blandings.
Do you think you could keep it down to 18,000?
- Well, things are certainly humming. - What?
I said, "humming."
Oh, there's my contractor, Mr. Retch. I'll introduce you.
We ordered that a month ago. Get down...
- Hello, Mr. Retch. - Hi. Put a tracer on it.
- We need that stuff. - Got a lot on his mind.
Hey, get out of the way. Wanna get killed?
- What's going on over there? - That's Mr. Tesander. He's digging our well.
- How long does that go on? - Three weeks now...
...at $4.50 a foot. - Yeah, right.
I think I'd better have a little talk with Mr. Tesander.
Mr. Tesander?