Page 3

By Jack Joseph Smith

"He won't listen to me," says the father shaking his head and catching an eye or two of the tough looking men who are coming and going. "Listen pop," says Ben. "I don't want any vioence. Sooner or later if your running a joint, you gotta deal with dat. Dat's dat, and dat's a fact." "Naw, I ain't had any real trouble." "Hey pop! Your from downtown. Your old buddies would kill for you if ya was hurt. You took me out to Mount Lebanon to get educated. My boys know how to slam a fist, but dey don't carry guns, or even shives when we was fight'en at the South Hills show. Everybody knows dat pop. They know that about you and yours, and they know that about me and mine." "Ah, ya making the unnecessary problem out of noth'in." Ben has finished loading up his truck, and is ready to go now. The father goes on. "Your just to damn cocky now dat ya got a day shift. Think your on easy street don't ya. Just wait till ya get forty five and bored devivering articles about your frinds." "We're all buddies. Right pop. I ain't got no problems, and I ain't asking for none. I'll just sit up in the front seat and smile at the world going by." We cut to Ben driving his truck through the exuctive section of Pittsburgh. It is Mount Lebanon. He has two young boys on the back of his truck. One of who don't appear to be of the other side of the tracks up there. It is mid morning, and so apparently the youths have skipped school. Been pulls his truck

Original Scan

Page 3

AI Interpretation

GPT

The page sharpens the father-son conflict over tavern violence, then moves Ben into Mount Lebanon with two school-skipping boys whose class position is marked by a handwritten note.

Ben refuses the father's tavern logic because it carries an old downtown code of protection, guns, knives, and inherited obligation. The handwritten insertion about one boy not appearing to come from the other side of the tracks adds class nuance to the Mount Lebanon scene: Ben is not simply crossing into wealth, but moving among boys whose relation to that world is already uncertain.

Claude

Ben names the real objection: 'I don't want any vioence,' and lays out a class-coded ethic of fighting - the downtown old buddies 'would kill for you,' his own Mount Lebanon boys 'know how to slam a fist, but dey don't carry guns, or even shives.' The father waves it off as 'unnecessary problem out of noth'in' and warns Ben he'll end up 'forty five and bored devivering articles about your frinds.' Ben answers with the book's recurring pose - 'I'll just sit up in the front seat and smile at the world going by' - before the scene cuts to him driving the 'exuctive' Mount Lebanon streets with two boys, one not quite 'of the other side of the tracks,' who have skipped school.