Long ago, when I was a young man, my father said to me...
"Norman, you like to write stories. "
And I Said, Yes, I do. "
Then he Said, Someday, when you're ready...
you might tell our family Story.
Only then will you underStand what happened and why. "
ln our family, there waS no clear line between religion and fly-fishing.
We lived at the junction of great trout riverS in MiSSoula, Montana...
where IndianS Still appeared out of the wilderneSS...
to walk the honky-tonkS and brothelS of Front Street.
My father was a PreSbyterian minister...
and a fly-fisherman.
Though it is true that one day a week waS given over wholly to religion...
even then he told us about ChriSt'S disciples being fiShermen.
And we were left to aSSume, aS my younger brother paul and l did...
that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly-fiShermen...
and that John, the favorite, waS a dry fly-fiSherman.
The poor without Christ are of all men the most miserable.
But the poor with Christ...
are princes and kings of the earth.
ln the afternoon, we would walk with him...
while he unwound between services.
He almoSt alwayS choSe a path along the Big Blackfoot...
which we conSidered our family river.
lt was there he felt his Soul reStored and his imagination stirred.
Long ago rain fell on mud and became rock.
Halt a billlon years ago.
But even betore that, beneath the rocks...
are the words ot God.
Llsten.
And if Paul and I liStened very carefully all our liveS...
we might hear thoSe wordS.
Even So, Paul and I received aS many hourS of instruction in fly-fishing...
aS we did in all other Spiritual matters.
As a PreSbyterian, my father believed...
that man, by nature, waS a damn mesS...
and that only by picking up God'S rhythmS...
were we able to regain power and beauty.
To him, all good things, trout as well as eternal Salvation, come by grace.
And grace comeS by art, and art doeS not come easy.
Norman.
So my brother and I learned to cast PreSbyterian Style:
on a metronome.
He began each SeSSion with the Same instruction:
CaSting iS an art that iS performed on a four-count rhythm...
between 10;00 and 2:00.
If he had had hiS way, nobody who did not know how to catch a fiSh...
would be allowed to diSgrace a fiSh by catching it.
So it waS with my formal education aS well.
Each weekday, while my father worked on his Sunday Sermon...
I attended the School of the Reverend Maclean.
He taught nothing but reading and writing. And being a Scot...
believed that the art of writing lay in thrift.
Half as long.
So while my friends spent their days at Missoula Elementary...
l Stayed home and learned to write the American language.
Again, halt as long.
Good. Now throw it away.
Norman! Norman!
Wait tor your brother!
However, there waS a balance to my father'S system.
Every afternoon I waS Set free...
untutored and untouched till Supper...
to learn on my own the natural Side of God's order.
And there could be no better place to learn than the Montana of my youth.
lt was a world with dew still on it...
more touched by wonder and poSSibility than any l have Since known.
Goddamn it, open up the door!
What the hell is goin' on?
- Where are you guys going? - Chickens!
Move out of the way. Get.
But it waS a tough world, too. Even aS children...
we underStood that and admired it.
And of courSe, we had to teSt it.
l knew I waS tough because l had been bloodied in battle.
Get hlm!
Don't be a sissy! Come on !
Yeah, come on. Let's see some blood here.
Paul waS different.
His toughneSS came from Some secret place inside of him.
He simply knew he waS tougher than anyone alive.
Grace wIll not be sald untll that bowl is clean.
Man has been eating God's oats tor a thousand years.
It's not the place ot an 8-year-old boy to change that tradltion.
Grace.
Oh, God...
rlch in torgiveness, grant that we...
may hold fast the good things we receive from Thee.
And as otten as we tall into sin, be llfted by repentance through Thy grace.
Amen.
Norm, what do you want to be when you grow up?
A minister, l guess.
Or a protessional boxer.
You think you could beat Jack Johnson?
l thlnk you could. l'd bet on it.
- What are you gonna be? - A protessional fly-flsherman.
- There's no such thing. - There isn't?
l guess a boxer.
Not a mInister?
ln 191 7, World War I came to Missoula...
taking with it every able-bodied lumberjack...
leaving the woods to old men and boyS.
So at 16, l did my duty...
and started working for the U.S. ForeSt Service.
lt was a life of timber and toil...
with men aS tough aS their ax handleS...
and more mountains in all directions...
than I would ever See again.
Being too young to join me...
Paul took a job aS lifeguard at the municipal swimming pool...
so that during the day he could look over the girlS...
and in the evenings he could pursue his other purpose in life: fishing.
Be Thou my viSion
O Lord of my heart
Naught be all elSe to me
Save that Thou art
Thou might press on
By day or by night
Waking or Sleeping
Thy preSence my light
Preacher, come on.
Shut up!
Have l told you what a fire sounds Iike comlng down a mountaln 60 miles an hour?
Him and his forest fires.
l've got a great idea.
- l know how we can go down In history. - How?
We borrow old man Seitert's rowboat and we shoot the chutes.
- You can't shoot the chutes. - You can try.
- You can die trying. - They'd bury us with honors. Tell him.
- We would be the kings ot Missoula. - We'd be famous.
All ot you would get your photographs in the paper.
l'm doing it. l am.
You'll die. No.
- Let's do it. Come on. - l'm with you.
All right.
Let's go!
l'll get the oars.
Whose idea was thls?
- Whlch way we goin', Pauly? - This way.
l need a woman!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
Okay, we'll put in upstream.
Flip lt.
Okay, hop in.
Come on. We can all tit.
l don't think so.
All right. Just me, Norm and Chub.
Geez, Pauly.
l guess it's just the Macleans.
Be caretul !
You ain't goin' over, Pauly.
- They'll pull to shore. - See you ln heaven!
Come back a second. l gotta tell you something.
See you later, boys!
Rudder on the rlght.
On your rlght. Watch your right.
- Steer around. - Right!
Watch it! On your rlght.
Hang on !
Oh, geez.
Maclean !
Pauly!
Hey, Chub.
What the hell
You crazy son ot a bltch !
- You guys okay? - Where's--
Preach, you okay?
Sure.
You will go to church thls day and pray for forglveness.
Your mother spent the night sick with worry. Dld you think of her feelings?
Mrs. Campbell called.
- Who gave you the boat? - We borrowed it.
Borrowed?
Boys, what have you done?
You will work ott every cent of its value.
Yes, sir.
l'll work it oft. lt was my idea.
What're you making?
know what you need? Ham, cheese and sardines. Deliclous.
- l don't want sardlnes. - l'll show you.
Those guys wlll tell everyone the class ot '19 did it.
l should write an artlcle.
- Macleans conquer chutes.'' - l don't like sardines.
You could get it in the school paper.
Chub!
Geez, Pauly!''
- What a skeezicks! - l don't want any goddamn sardines!
No! Stop it! Stop lt!
You hit her, you son of a bitch!
You knocked her down, you bastard!
- Son ot a bitch! - Please, l slipped!
l just slipped. That's all.
That was the only time...
we ever fought.
PerhapS we wondered afterwardS which one of us was tougher.
But if boyhood gueStionS aren't anSwered before a certain point...
they can't be raiSed again.
So we returned to being graciouS to one another...
aS the church wall Suggested.
I then saw something remarkable.
For the first time, Paul broke free of our father'S inStruction...
into a rhythm all hiS own.
They're both marvelous.
l'd say the Lord has blessed us all today.
lt's just that He's been particularly good to me.
The year ended with my acceptance into Dartmouth College.
Father had told me l could attend any college in the world I could get into.
I knew he earned no more than $1,800 a year...
So his offer meant more to me than anything in my life.
Do your best.
l will.
All aboard!
Norman!
So in the autumn of 1919 l boarded the Northern Pacific...
for a 3,000-mile trip eaSt to the unknown.
To the son of a Montana minister, Dartmouth waS more than an education.
lt was a revelation, expoSing me to a world I'd only gueSSed at.
As part of my degree, I was required to enlighten incoming freShman...
on the wonderS of the Romantic poetS.
And although l waS unaware of it then...
teaching fit me.
But moSt of the time l Sat in the card room of my fraternity houSe...
giving my bluenoSe brotherS a leSSon in Front Street poker.
ln all, I Spent Six years at Dartmouth...
away from home nearly all that time.
On the other hand, paul Stayed home for college...
unwilling to leave the fish he had not yet caught.
After graduation, he took a job aS a reporter for a Helena newspaper...
and moved to that town...
his connection with the family growing aS Slight as my own.
lt waS not until the spring of 1926...
that l finally did come home.
Dlnner is in half an hour, so you have time tor a bath.
Do l look thin?
Do l look old?
No, you look--
l wlsh Paul could've been here tonIght. He's working late.
Norman, would you come ln?
I'm sorry Paul won't be here.
The life ot a newspaperman.
You know how Paul llkes to--
l do.
Sit.
l also hear that he--
l hear everything, don't l? God forbid my flock keep me in ignorance.
Yes.
You can bet everyone trom here to Helena knows the detalls ot your education.
lt is an achievement.
To what use shall you put this achlevement?
- l'm considerlng the Forest Servlce. - As a career?
No. For the summer.
As a break.
That's a good idea. The body tuels the mind.
- That's what l was thinking. - And after?
l'm not sure yet.
You've had slx years to become sure.
Have you considered an advanced degree?
The law? Medlcine?
The minlstry?
l've applied for several teaching posltIons.
- Have you? - College level. l haven't heard yet.
No, it's early.
You have taught classes already, haven't you?
Yes.
Did you tind that rewarding?
That is to say, do you feel this could be your calllng?
My calling?
Dlnner, gentlemen.
lf it's so tunny, how come l'm not laughing? Yes, pee ln thelr pants.
- Paul Maclean? - ln there.
The Anaconda Mine rules say no breaks...
not even tor the john, so they stand there and pee in thelr pants.
- What about the late-- - George Masterson.
l'll take that wldow. She's 23 and built like--
- You take the Anaconda. - l'll interview the grieving widow.
But l'm the boss, Maclean.
Flne by me, boss. Brother!
Look at you.
Boys, this is my big brother, the professor.
Gentlemen.
Sit.
- Thanks tor vlsiting me last night. - Yeah, damn.
l am sorry. Wanted to be there.
Wanted to hear the old man say, Norman, could you come into my study, please?''
Geez, the protessor.
We should celebrate.
A Iittle early tor me.
The East is making you sott.
Is that right?
Do much tishlng out east?
None.
None?
What do you say? Big Blacktoot.
- You set? - Yeah.
- Take thIs hole. lt's a good one. - That's all rlght. You go ahead.
lt's a good hole.
Too tlght. Try a roll cast.
The fish are out further.
Just a llttle further.
Cast your llne into the current. It'll give a better base and add distance.
You're just rusty. That's all.
He called it shadow casting...
keeping hiS line above water long enough and low enough...
to make a rainbow riSe.
And l realized that in the time I was away...
my brother had become an artiSt.
My coach comes up to me and says, Mac, how'd you llke to meet...
John L. Sullivan?''
The John L. Sullivan, the last bare-knuckle champion ot the world.
It waS then l knew I waS home.
Standing on the stepS of the MiSSoula Library once again...
late at night, telling stories to the Same boyS...
who had sat on those StepS and liStened a hundred timeS before.
And who had, in my abSence, become men.
lt goes to show the world is tull of bastards...
the number increaslng rapIdly the turther one gets trom Missoula, Montana!
Amen!
That's why you need to stlck around here trom now on.
Where's the gargle?
Yes, pass this way.
Every glrl you need to know will be at the 4th ot July dance...
without mama.
Find you a little Sheba.
Gentlemen, it's been swell.
Where're you golng?
Heavy date, Paul?
- Wlth a poker table. - You see them new slgns?
Does your husband misbehave? Grunt and grumble, rant and rave?
Shoot that brute some Burma Shave!''
- The road to where? - Lolo.
Lolo Hot Springs.
Being back in my father's church seemed to complete my return.
More than anything elSe, l realized it was my father'S wordS...
that made me feel moSt at home.
ln the glow of awakened memories...
when the deepest teellngs ot the heart are all astir...
we are reminded ot the poet who sings...
Backward, turn backward, O tIme ln your tlight.
Make me a child again...
just for tonight.''
Recognize anybody?
You've been gone too long, son.
- Who's that? - Who?
There.
Oh, yeah?
A Iittle lntatuation?
Who is that?
Jessie Burns.
From Wolf Creek. Her brother went to Hollywood.
Jessie Burns.
WouId you like to dance?
Would you be a doll and get us a drlnk?
Jessie, who's that?
- Here you go. - Thanks.
You're a lifesaver.
How ladylike!
l have to be caretul or l'll wIpe otf all the powder.
phantom of the Opera.
pack up all my care and woe
Here l go, Singing low
Bye-bye, blackbird
l heard Louis Armstrong sing this song once...
ln a little speak ln Greenwich Village, New York.
Really?
Best jazz in the world. Colored jazz, you know?
The real McCoy. Not like Paul Whlteman or the Kllquot Club Esklmos.
My mother loves the kliquot Club Eskimos.
Does she?
Dance?
Yeah.
Let the flreworks begin!
- Guys, come on. - Jessie, come on.
l have a wonderfuI Idea.
What better lesson for those girIs than a trip to the reservation...
to learn a real Christian message of giving, don't you thlnk?
l'll organize it. Don't Iift a tinger.
Thank you. Thls is the most charitable ldea l've heard in years.
Do you know those lndian children don't even have shoes? Do you need the phone?
- No, l don't have to. - No, you go ahead.
- lf you need to use it-- - No, l have work to do.
Hello, Mrs. Hatcher.
Hello. l'd like--
She's flne. l'd like--
Yes, everybody's tIne.
l'd llke the Burns residence ln Wolt Creek, please.
Yes, l know it's long distance.
Thank you.
Hello.
ls Jessle there?
Thls is Norman Maclean, but l don't think she--
Hello.
No, l'm the one who brought you the drink.
No, we didn't get a chance. The tireworks started.
We talKed about muslc.
And l sald l heard Louis Armstrong sing the--
Yeah, that's me.
I was a little nervous.
Because...
you were so je ne SaiS guoi.
l thought I could come and listen to the kllquot Club Eskimos with your mother.
Yes.
l called because l wanted to see you again.
How about Saturday?
8:00?
l'll see you then.
Bye.
Hey, here they are.
Brother!
Jessie, this is my baby brother Paul.
- And thls is Monasita. - Mabel.
Shall we?
- What do you say, Pauly? - Murph.
- Preacher. - Preacher?
- How are you, Murph? - Long time. Long time.
Good to see you.
You know the house rules as good as l do, Paul.
No lnjuns. Period.
l don't llke the house rules, Murph.
Me neither.
What are you going to make me do, Pauly?
Get us a table tor four.
- Last tlme, Paul. - HeIlo, Judge.
You can get hIm back. Get drunk and dance naked on the table.
And beat the hell out of the son of a bitch.
- Molly, my darling. - Hi, Paul.
They've got swell hooch here. They even wash the glasses.
Drlnk?
What'll it be? Jessie? Jessie.
l'll have a martini, Paul. lt is Paul?
Rlghty-o. The usual tor Norm. Gln and prune juice.
Make that a double.
Excuse me.
l'd like to order a drink, too.
Whlskey, double.
So, what are you doing now, Mabel?
l sell bait.
You have the most beautitul hair l've ever seen.
Should l get lt bobbed?
No, not in a mlllion years.
The candle burns at both ends.
lt wIll not Iast the night.
But, ah, my toes, and oh, my friends...
it gives a lovely light.''
That's nice.
How about to my edltor, the old curmudgeon? Excuse me.
He took me ott the Anaconda story. l'm a reporter at The Bee.
- l know. - How do you know?
l'm famous.
- Fishing newspaperman. - You know he flshes, too?
- l thought everybody knew. - You've been away a long time.
- l'd say so. - lt's seems my editor--
- The old curmudgeon. - Yes, exactly.
He's been getting calls. No names, just threats.
Real threats?
lt's nice to know you're touching a nerve button.
What did they say?
- What did they say? - You'll have to cut lt out ot hlm.
The usual. The boys wiIl come down and pay me a llttle visit.
Fit you with a pair or concrete galoshes, see?
Exactly.
l have to dance.
Watch out!
Wow!
Now, The MuSkrat Ramble.
Watch lt!
l'm nowhere near as good as my brother, but would you do me the honor?
l'd Iove to.
Dear JeSSie, AS the moon lingers a moment over the BitterootS...
before itS deScent into the inviSible...
my mind iS filled with Song.
l find l am humming softly...
not to the muSic, but Something else.
Someplace elSe.
A place remembered.
A field of graSS where no one seemed to have been except the deer.
And the memory iS strengthened by the feeling of you...
dancing in my awkward armS.
Norman.
Yes?
What's wrong?
lt's okay, Mother. Who is this?
l'm Norman Maclean.
No, he doesn't have to post bond.
He covers the police beat and has triends here.
Just look at hlm and take him home.
What did he do?
He hit a guy and the guy is missing a couple ot teeth.
Why did he hit him?
lt says, A remark was passed concerning the lndlan woman he was wIth.''
The guy deserved lt.
We're picking your brother up too much lately.
ls that rlght?
Besides, he's behInd on the big stud poker game at Lolo.
lt's not healthy to get behind on that game at Lolo.
- ls he hurt? - He's not hurt. He's just sick.
He drinks too much.
At Lolo, they don't drink too much.
You better go in and get your brother.
l'm tired and l wanna go to bed
l just had a drink about an hour ago
It went right to my head
No matter where l roam
By land or Sea or foam
You can alwayS hear me singing thiS Song
Show me the way to go home
lt you need any money, Paul...
or anything else, l want you to know that--
She lIves past the sIaughterhouse.
l can help.
Turn here.
Well, chickens haven't come home to roost yet, Al.
Not bad.
Are you all right?
- Clara, was that your jelly? - Yes, lt was.
lt was wonderful. And is this Norman?
Yes, lt ls. Yes, we're very proud ot hIm.
- Nice to have you back. - Thank you.
Her daughter's turned lnto a beauty. There she is.
Twenty only a week ago. She's brlght as a llght.
Mr. Murchlson, how are you?
How are you?
- Quite well, thank you. - Good, good.
- And thls is Paul? - No, this is Norman.
- Oh, Norman! You're looking good. - Yes. Hasn't he grown up?
- Paul's here. Come on. - l'm sorry, l can't.
l'm meeting Jessle Burns' tamily. Her brother's comlng in trom Calitornia.
Oh, well, now.
- l'm late. - Should we have this girl to dinner?
Perhaps, Mother.
Well, well!
Hello, Paul.
- Hi, Sam. Let me borrow those. - Sure. Why not?
- Hello, Father. - Son.
First shot, bangs it right up there.
The BurnS family ran a general Store in a one-Store town...
and Still managed to do badly.
Thls is Norman.
They were MethodistS, who my father called BaptiSts who could read."
- Pop. - lt's a pleasure.
Thls is my mother.
A pleasure to meet you, Norman. Jessie tells me you're a poet.
- Related to the tishing newspaperman? - That's my brother.
- Jessle says you just got your degree. - Yes.
Jessie was at the university. She was majoring in--
Flapperism.
Science, l believe. Wasn't lt?
- She dropped out. - Aunt Sally!
She could learn trom you. Stlck-to-itivlty.
Let the young man breathe.
He's not used to all this. He's a Presbyterian.
Oh, Neal! He's here!
JeSSie'S brother Neal Stepped off the train trying to remember...
what a DaviS Cup tenniS player looked like.
You look so good! He looks a llttle thln.
How are you doing? You look great!
NeaI, this is Norman. Norman, my brother Neal.
Hello, boy.
- Did you sit up all night? - I met some nice people.
- Did you get my card trom Yellowstone? - What do you think about thls tle?
- Let him breathe. He just got here. - Let's go eat.
l've got chIcken salad sandwiches in the car and baklng chickens at home.
Mrs. Miller has given us cherries. l can make your favorite pie.
- Not the homemade beer. - Boy, was a good year.
Over the lips, past the gums, look out, stomach, here she comes.
What's the tirst station out there now?
When l traveled that way, San Berdoo was there.
San Berdoo and a lot ot sand...
and a lot ot desert, a hell ot a lot ot desert.
We came back to Salt Lake City.
We had to change at Salt Lake CIty.
- There was a hotel there that-- - Served oysters.
Served oysters. Yeah.
- Norman, do you drlnk? Does he drlnk? - A little bit.
Here's to the ol' fam-damn-lly.
- The tam-damn-ily! - Here! Here!
Down the trenches.
He's flne. He's just tlred. lt's a long trip.
At least he stlll has his appetite.
How long are you planning to stay?
Sport! Come here.
l don't know. l miss the ocean.
What's it like?
lt's big and blue. People ride on the waves.
l was getting pretty good at it.
Damn lt! Bad dog! Bad! Geez, Ma!
You get hlm so excited. Sport.
- Anywho, what was l talking about? - The ocean.
Oh, yeah! So we'd ride those waves all day long, all the boys.
Ramon, me, Ronnie Colman.
Ronald Colman?
- l love Ronald CoIman. - People say l look like Ronald Colman.
Yeah.
l can't plcture RonaId Colman ridlng on waves.
Some kodak, huh?
Well, Ma...
it's been a long trip.
Maybe you could go tishing wlth Norman sometime.
That's a good Idea.
Yeah.
- Wondertul, wouldn't it be? - Flshing?
You do fish?
- Of course! - He has a pole and everything.
- Oh, yes, everybody does. - You betcha.
- When would be a good tlme tor 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 tishlng with us.
- Can l come? - Not thls 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.
lt was thls otter and her pups.
l had a hell of a time tracklng 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 agaln.
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.
lt's stitf! l couldn't teel my hands!
l'm thinking about my dog Sport that's with me.
lf it gets any colder, l may have to sllt hlm open...
and stick my hands ln to keep them trom treezlng.
lt would have been a tough thing to do.
But, hell, l did lt betore at the Yukon.
God knows l Iove 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 tirst deer...
is the goddamn otter!
Hey, buster.
What's an otter doing on the top ot Roger's Pass?
l thought they swam ln the creeks.
Why don't you brlng this lady a whiskey?
l've got to shove ott.
Don't torget, ol' boy, Friday, tishing.
What?
What say?
They sald l'd flnd you at your other oftice.
Yeah, deadline. Can't work there.
You come for a drlnk?
A favor.
Go flshing with me?
Sure.
That's marvy, because Jessie's got a brother...
ln from CalltornIa and--
l'm not gonna lie. He's a worId champion peckerwood.
- Balt tisherman? - He didn't say.
Good Lord! George.
He's going to show up wlth a cottee can tull ot worms.
Red can. Hllls Brothers. l'll lay a bet on lt.
l promised Jessie.
Are you getting serlous?
- What? - You son of a bitch. You're serious.
Well?
l don't know.
Then we ought to do it.
Whoa, whoa.
As l llve and breathe.
Buster here wants to fish.
You're late, Neal.
Yeah, l didn't get in till late.
l didn't get in at all, but l was here.
Neal, Paul. Paul, Neal.
ln Montana, three things we're never late tor: church, work and tIshing.
Righty-o. Anywho--
- Thls is-- - We've met.
Don't go away.
Watch the flrst step. lt's a lulu.
- So. - You ready to--
What?
Fishlng.
Buster wants to fish.
Neal, what about the bait?
Dumb Dora
We're not going to catch anything. lt's too damn hot,
May he catch three doses of clap.
Sure glad l didn't go home and get some sleep.
Where Is he?
- Oh, God, - Geez!
l'll catch up.
Yeah.
l know. You got 20.
- Couldn't you tInd him? - The hell with him.
l thought we were supposed to help him.
How the helI do you help that son of a bitch?
By taking him tishing.
He doesn't like tishIng. Doesn't like Montana. Sure as hell doesn't like me.
Well...
maybe what he likes ls somebody trying to help him.
- You sank the beer, yeah? - You bet your lite.
Let's go.
Oh, geeZ, l can taste it.
- Should we klll him? - Shlt!
Goddamn it!
Holy Christ
This is not good.
She's got a tattoo.
lnitials?
Love.''
l can get ln myself. l don't need help.
You got anything to drink, buster?
Buster's the one with the red ass.
- l'm in deep trouble. - Yeah. Want me to come and protect you?
Mrs. Burns would love to meet the girlfriend.
l aln't burned.
The sun don't bother me.
Yeah.
What do you think about me spendlng the night wlth you and the folks?
We come back here tomorrow, wlpe thls day oft the books.
It's a deal.
Come on, buster. l'm as dry as dirt.
Hark, tair Jullet speaks.
Good luck.
Sweet Jesus!
What have you done to my boy?
He tell asleep in the sun.
Oh, my Lord ln heaven. lt's all right.
lt's all right, honey. We'll tix it.
You lett hlm alone?
He brought someone, and--
You better go home.
l need a ride home.
You better hang on.
What are you--
l don't think you--
They send trains down here alI the time, without a schedule.
You're not--
I don't think they can see us in here.
Well, thanks tor the flight.
You're funny.
Oh? How am l funny?
You don't like my brother, do you?
No, l do not Iike your brother.
l don't know any card tricks.
But l llke you, and l want to see you agaIn.
- Hello, Jess. - Hey, Paul.
- How's your brother? - You both lett him alone.
l'm sorry about that. That was my fault.
You're not torgiven.
Was Norman torgIven?
Norman's not funny.
l 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 flre?
l thlnk they should put you on the church beat.
l agree.
Quote: The Reverend Maclean had a nlce roast while dinlng with hls family.
All, except tor 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 accompllshments, Norman.
lt's all right it you're dull.
We're very proud ot you.
l do have one story. No murder, no mayhem.
l lntervlewed the Presldent.
- Calvln Coolidge? - The President?
- Mr. Coolldge? - When?
A tew days ago. He was in Dakota, fly-fishing.
Fly-flshing!
Fly-tishlng in a suit and tie, whlte gloves and patent-leather shoes.
l asked him. l went right up to him.
l said, Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me what they're biting on?''
He says, The end of my line.''
- What? What? - The end ot my llne.
Then some of the locals came over, tled on a fly the size ot a chlcken.
Ol' Cal, he heaves lt out there.
Figured if he can't catch a trout, he'll scare one to death,
Did you get a picture?
Yeah. lt'll be in the Sunday paper.
Closemouthed Cal communes with the crappies.''
Mother, that was amazlng.
He usually only eats what he can hit on the road.
That was tunny.
l do worry about you.
- l'm gonna run over-- Hmm? - What?
What?
l was just going to say...
l thought l'd go meet some of the old pals, being in town.
Don't you walt up.
l pIan on eating the rest of this when nobody's looklng.
l understand he's changed the spelling ot 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 ln a car, car won't go.
That's how you spell Chi-car-go!''
Though nothing can bring back the hour ot splendor in the grass.
Ot glory ln the tlower, we will grieve not.
Rather tind strength in what remains behind.''
ln the prlmal sympathy which having been must ever be.''
ln the soothlng thoughts that spring out ot human sutfering.''
ln the faith that looks through death.''
Thanks to the human heart by which we live.
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, lts tears.
To me the meanest tlower that blows...
can give thoughts that do otten lie too deep tor tears.''
- Good luck. We'll be rooting tor you. - Here's sandwiches.
lt waS one week exactly before l 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, l asked only one gueStion of JeSSie.
Did She want me to come? And she answered YeS."
l love you. Don't torget to write.
lf he came back next summer, would you try and help him?
lt you wanted me to, l would try.
- He's not coming back. - At least he's got friends there.
Who? Ronald Colman?
Why is lt that people who need the most help...
won't take it?
l don't know.
l don't cry, Norman.
Can l show you something?
Only it it's something good.
Read.
What do you thlnk?
What do l think? l think it's the berries!
-You do? -Yes. To get away. Chicago. lt's heaven.
- Have you ever been? - No, not anywhere.
Helena.
God, congratulatlons!
The truth is, l'm not sure l want to leave.
Montana? Why? lt'll always be here.
Not Montana.
Then what?
What?
l'm not sure l want to leave you.
l just come from there, downing my liquid lunch.
You got to watch lt, Fred. They're atter you.
Well, now.
Give us a couple boilermakers.
Two up.
Well, here's to the heart, goddamn lt.
Oh, Lordy.
l'm ln love wlth Jessie Burns.
Jesus Chrlst, Norm.
With all the fish in the river.
Not like her.
Oh, rlght.
Not like her.
Congratulations.
l'm real happy tor you.
Well, goddamn lt, let's get the hell out of here and go ceIebrate.
Done.
Bananas today
We've got homegrown potatoeS
- And vine-ripened tomatoeS - lt's a stinker.
- What? - It stinks.
What do you mean? lt'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 telt lucky tonight.
l could use some ot the luck.
Jesus Christ! No, don't.
Don't be the protessor tonight.
Preacher.
Hello, Frank.
Well, my gal Sal.
Sal? Hey, Sal?
Get a drink tor my brother.
Bourbon.
ln tact, how about a round on me?
He's in Iove.
Hang on.
Take care of hlm, Sal.
Not a good idea, Paul.
Fellas, got a chalr for me?
Not tor you, Paul.
- What do you want? - What?
Cards? What?
- What do you want? - Nothlng.
A buck. l know Paul says he's paying, but--
Just games. Only games.
Let's go. Now.
We're getting out of here.
Rlghty-o.
Bye-bye, sonny.
- l'm not leaving. - What?
These hands are hot. l can teel it.
What? You can't go back.
lt's fine. l'll be tine.
They won't let you play.
Yes, they will.
Wlth what? You're in debt up to your neck!
Norm, it's my debt.
Okay? lt's my debt.
Jesus Christ!
We never got to go tishlng again.
Maybe we could go tomorrow. We could get Dad to come.
You ask hlm.
6:30.
Boy, somethlng smells good!
- Morning, everybody. - lt's the muftins.
Perfect.
We're so glad you could make it.
- l wouldn't miss it. - Have any new stories to tell us?
A story?
All righty.
Geez.
l have one.
What?
l've been otfered a job at the University of Chicago.
Yes?
Teaching literature.
What?
Starting tall term.
l'm going to take lt.
l am pleased.
Yes, l am pleased!
- Well. - A professor!
A real professor.
Damnation.
l'm proud of you.
Be sure to take pictures.
- We're gonna catch some big tish. - Yes, we are.
Let's go!
Remember those rocks we used to build our fireplace?
- Those were big rocks. - Nearly a billlon years old.
- Halt a billion, Norman. - Come on.
Well !
l believe the high road wlll suit me better.
There was a tlme.
You'll make a kllling.
He'll make a kiIling.
- Let's tish together today. - Good.
- What are they biting on? - What?
- What are they bitlng on? - Louder!
l said--
Bunyon bugs.
Want me to bring you one?
No, l'll come and get it.
Bunyon bugs, stone tly number two.
Thank you, O mercitul protessor of poetry and trout.
l'm golng 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 ot things.
What do you say?
Come with us.
l'll never leave Montana, brother.
Oh me, oh my!
Look at that tish!
Unbellevable!
At that moment I knew surely and clearly...
that l waS witneSSing perfection.
You are a tine tisherman.
Only need three more years betore l can thlnk llke a fish.
You're already thinking llke a deadstone tly. 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 l 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 l left for Chicago...
I roSe and asked no queStions.
He drove me back home down the length of the river...
So that l 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.
ls 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 l told him everything.
Finally I said to him...
"Maybe all l 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.
lndirectly, though, Paul was alwayS present in my father'S thoughtS.
l remember the laSt sermon l heard him give...
not long before hiS own death.
Each one ot us here today will, at one time in our lives...
look upon a loved one who is ln need and ask the same question.
We are wllling to help, Lord...
but what, if anything, is needed?''
lt 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 glve...
is not wanted.
And so it ls those we Iive wlth and should know who elude us...
but we can stIll love them.
We can love completely...
without complete understandlng.
Now nearly all those I loved and did not underStand in my youth are dead.
Even JeSSie.
But l still reach out to them.
Of courSe, now I'm too old to be much of a fisherman.
And now l uSually fiSh the big waterS alone...
although Some friendS think I shouldn't.
But when l 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.