((The third section begins here.))
NIGHT--EXTERIOR REDLIGHT DISTRICT--MOVING
The first of several brief scenes detailing Johnson's several-months' descent into seamier aspects of the bluesman's "Sportin' Life"; on the soundtrack throughout is his rocking, bitterly violent "32-20" with its lines like these:
I sent for my baby, an' she don't come (repeat)
All the doctors in Hot Springs sho' cain't he'p her none...
An' if she gets unruly, things she don' want to do (repeat)
Take my 32-20, man, an' cut her half in two...
In this first scene Johnson and two low-lifers wander drunkenly in the redlight district of some town, carousing, shoving each other, pawing at the street women.
NIGHT--EXTERIOR WOODEN STAIRWAY
Johnson following a chippie up the rickety stairs to her second-floor "crib," grabbing at her and drinking from a bottle. At the top of the stairs, she opens the door and starts inside, but he stops to stand teetering dangerously, head back to guzzle down the last of the whiskey. Then he smashes the bottle down into the alley below, staggers over to the woman, and vanishes inside.
DAY--EXTERIOR COUNTRY JUKEJOINT
Johnson is playing cards with another man, the game called Georgia Skin, flipping the cards over from the top of the deck. Thee are a few onlookers and Robert has another bottle at his elbow. He takes a snort, rubs his lucky bag, winks at the folks watching, licks his thumb ostentatiously, and then flips over the Jack of Diamonds--which wins the hand and a great deal of (unheard) congratulations from the watchers.
NIGHT--INTERIOR BEDROOM
Johnson and another chippie are in a well-furnished hotel room, elaborately sniffing cocaine, fumbling at each other, giggling and laughing and ending in a heap on the bed.
DAY--INTERIOR BLACK CLUB
Johnson sits slumped over a table, drunk again, barely conscious. At the outside door, across the room, his friend Johnny appears; the barman meets him and points over to Robert. Johnny comes gloomily over and begins the difficult task of getting Johnson up on his feet and out of the club. Robert reacts with drunken affection at the sight of his old friend.
The music has continued throughout, but now there is a harsh, nerve-jangling sound, as a 78 record player's steel needle scrapes across a record, stopping it in mid-phrase, and:
DAY--INTERIOR WHOREHOUSE
We see Johnson standing beside an old-fashioned, bell-horn, wind-up victrola; he has just stopped the record as heard. Robert and Johnny are in the sitting room parlor of a plush, New Orleans-style black whorehouse. He turns to face Johnny again, tipsy this time rather than incapacitated.
JOHNSON (giggling): He, he, he. Wha' chu think o' that, nigger? You' ol' buddy Robert on record...
CLOSE ON JOHNNY
He is quite subdued--puzzled by his friend's belligerant attitude, and working at keeping the peace.
JOHNNY: Soundin' good, Bob. I been hearin' you all aroun'.
ANOTHER ANGLE
As Johnson hurls the disc across the room at Johnny.
JOHNSON: Bet you' raggedy ass!
But his aim is bad, and it hits a nearby Tiffany-style lamp instead, which crashes to the floor.
JOHNSON: Fame an' fortune you done tol' me to grab aholt of!
Johnny kneels to pick up the broken lamp.
JOHNNY: You sho' nuff grab on t' some-thin'. What in hell's eatin' on you anyways?
ANGLE ON DOOR
As the madam and one of her girls come hurrying in to check on the clatter. Madam swears when she sees the lamp's condition.
MADAM: More o' your dam-fool doin's, Robert Johnson. I don't care what kinda killer musician you is, I won't have this in my house.
Johnson lunges unsteadily over to wrap himself around the other girl; he squeezes a breast and she struggles to break free.
JOHNSON: You kin squeeze my lemon, baby.
The angry Madam shoves him away from her girl.
MADAM: Ain't I tol' you 'bout that too? Keep you' ham-hocks offa my girls, lessen you payin' your way. Johnny, you get this dumb country boy out o' here!
The two women stalk out.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Robert is weaving back and forth.
JOHNSON: G'on, you b.d. bitch. If you cain't sell it, sit on it! I ain' take no pigmeat an' sowbelly offen you!
Then he collapses on the couch. Johnny has watched the preceding sadly. Now he walks over to pat Johnson awkwardly on the shoulder.
JOHNNY: Come on, Bob. Le's you an' me find us somewhere's else to easy ride.
Johnson frets and mumbles.
JOHNSON: ... ain' seen Chicago...
JOHNNY (helping him up): That's it--mebbe we roll on up Big Muddy, bust you' conk in Chicago-town..
And they stumble toward the door.
DAY--EXTERIOR STREET--MOVING
A crowded street in Southside Chicago, black people of all ages passing, sitting on front stoops, kids playing in the street. Robert and Johnny are walking along, carrying their guitars and valises. They are dressed in their good clothes, but compared to the big-city folk they look a bit back-woods. The two of them seem slightly awed by the hustle and bustle and gab going on all around.
ANGLE ON STREET CORNER
Finally they muster the nerve to approach two rakish hipster-hustlers, dressed to the nines in the height of black Thirties fashion (not yet zoot suits, but flashy). The city guys exchange a look and a rib-dig suggesting something like "Let's get these hicks."
JOHNNY: 'Scuse me, gents, can you tell me...
FIRST HUSTLER (interrupting, to his buddy): Say, bro', looka these two hankachief heads from down yonder, brushin' at the cuckaburrs in their wig, ya dig? All jumped up to pick out what's goin' down in windy ol' Chicago town. I kin tell by the drape o' they vines (fingering the wrinkles in Johnson's baggy jacket) they has de-signs.
Johnson pulls away, surprised. Talker Johnny's jaw is still hanging.
SECOND HUSTLER (to Johnson): Don't mind my signifyin' man, this here Dapper Dan with the built-in tan. They calls me Lewis 'cause I gives 'em bliss--I got my shit, grit, an' mother-wit in-tact. (now to Johnny) So whatcha need, doodley-deed? You lookin' to grease you' chops, or Lindy Hop? Mebbe get tall an' have a ball? Lay it on me, jeff--name you' gig an' we all dig!
FIRST HUSTLER (laughing): Lewis, that' some hincty jive. Jes' slip me five.
ANOTHER ANGLE
They slap hands while Robert and Johnny stand there still confused--should they be angry? are these street dudes still speaking English or some bizarre variation? They look at each other for an answer, but neither knows.
JOHNNY: Uh... say whut? I ain't unnerstan' all that.
SECOND HUSTLER: We's rhymin' it an' chimin' it. Give you the gate to ease you' weight--he'p you get hip, foxy an' fly. Stick wid it an' you got to git it!
JOHNNY: Uh, thanks... I guess.
ROBERT (getting angry): Jes' tell us the way to the Black-an'-Tan club.
The first hustler hits the strings of Johnson's guitar.
FIRST HUSTLER: Well, dog my cats--two razor-leg, slewfoot, mojo men from way behin' the sun come nawth to moan an' holler an' blow the blues from kin to cain't. Ain't they somethin', Lewis?
SECOND HUSTLER: Somethin' else, Daniel. (to Robert) All reet, big feet, 'fore you cain't see for lookin', here's the route you is be tookin'... (and he winks at his partner)
ANGLE ON CORNER
At this point, Johnson's song called "Sweet Home Chicago" begins on the track, drowning out those directions--though we see them acted out in all their elaborate glory. Hustler Lewis points this way and that, waves his arms in circles, names numerous streets, and counts blocks on his fingers. Robert is antsy and suspicious, but Johnny restrains him and pays close attention, trying to duplicate the airy map along with Lewis. The active scene looks like some weird game of charades.
Finally the directions end. Johnny shakes hands with both guys, and Robert nods coolly. As they stride purposefully off carrying all their gear, the hustlers burst out laughing, collapsing against each other in great glee.
ANOTHER ANGLE--MOVING
Further down the street, the hustlers visible in the distance. Johnny looks at Robert and shrugs; Johnson shakes his head, still not sure what has just happened. "Sweet Home Chicago" continues through the following brief scenes:
EXTERIOR SHOP--MOVING
Robert and Johnny passing a "good luck" store, its display windows filled with an amazing variety of powders and philtres, religious statues and dream books, voodoo artifacts and conjure bags, bones and roots and herbs. Johnny is amused and lingers to look, but Robert nervously hurries on, fingering the lucky bag around his neck.
EXTERIOR CAFE--MOVING
A hole-in-the-wall cafe devoted to soul food, with handwritten signs advertising "sweet potato pie," "red beans & rice," "chitterlings," and "downhome cooking." Again Johnny is willing to stop, but Robert wants to press on and get where they're bound.
EXTERIOR INTERSECTION
The two are now on a corner amidst a crowd of black people. A black policeman is in the street directing traffic, and they marvel at this, to them, strange sight. Then they cross the street with their burdens, bumped and jostled some by the other folks hurrying on.
EXTERIOR HOUSE--MOVING
The two now passing a house of ill repute with several stunning and fetchingly attired young women arrayed in the windows. This time Robert is the one who wants to linger, but Johnny pulls him on.
EXTERIOR STREET CORNER
The two peer up at a street sign, trying to get their bearings. They look around at the various directional options, confer on their memories, finally decide which way to go, pick up their gear again and move off.
EXTERIOR BARBERSHOP--MOVING
Now they are passing a black barber shop, but this one looks somewhat ritzier than Lucky's back in Memphis. Discreet dark drapes line the window, and there's a cost placard in the door glass; name sign above the door reads "CONK-EROR JONES, TONSORIALIST." Johnny points at the cost of a hair treatment and shakes his head at this outrageous figure.
EXTERIOR STREET CORNER
They are evidently nearing their goal at last, weary but heartened to see this particular corner. Johnny signals the new direction with his head and holds up two fingers for the two blocks left to go. They stagger off again.
EXTERIOR STREET--PAN
Robert and Johnny coming towards the lens, looking more eager; camera pans around to follow as they turn the last corner and stop suddenly, shocked to see...
EXTERIOR STOCKYARDS
A wide view of the cattle pens at the vast Chicago Stockyards, hundreds of beeves milling about and lowing loudly, their noise drowning out the last few bars of the Johnson song that's accompanied their long trek across Chicago's Southside.
CLOSE ON THE TWO
After their initial surprise, Johnny is laughing, Robert angry at first but then finally chuckling too. A final loud "Moo-oo" ends the sequence.
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