All the President's Men



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All the President's Men
by William Goldman
Based on the novel

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

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