THE IRISH SINGER
The Untold Story Of The West’s Most Celebrated Outlaw

THE IRISH SINGER
      Based on the Novel by Chuck Pinnell
      ©2020 by Chuck Pinnell
     
      Contact: James Clois Smith Jr., Sunstone Press / (505) 988-44818
     
      Tag Line: Henry McCarty will one day achieve world fame as Billy the Kid, but at sixteen he is just an obscure orphaned runaway coming of age on the fertile training ground of Camp Grant, Arizona, and completing the passage with a desert crucible that delivers him to the threshold of an incredible destiny.
     
      Act 1
     
      The film begins with two colliding memory fragments from the same day in the summer of 1863—five-year-old HENRY McCARTY, his mother and older brother on the beach at Coney Island—set against their entanglement in the horrific Manhattan draft riots. First, a sparkling shoreline, Henry frolicking along the edge of the surf as a magnificent clipper runs out to sea; and then the heave of wind and waves becomes the roar of an enormous deranged mob engulfing the little family. His attractive mother is attacked by a leering miscreant, and a 6 ft 8’ giant scoops Henry up, carrying him into the dark. These powerful juxtaposed visions of the sea and of mob violence are dispelled by the snorting of a horse. Sixteen-year-old Henry McCarty wakes in the saddle from a woozy noontime reverie to take in a dust devil crossing the worn two-track stretching out before him into an immense expanse of scrub and cactus. In a close up we see a handsome face, ice blue eyes, and an epic grin.
            Cut to:
      Henry finds a brief respite from the desert on a sheepherder’s ranch. His Spanish, his manners, and his magic—are excellent. He charms the man’s snake bitten son back from the dead with Gaelic airs, Mexican corridos, funny stories, and a little real medicinal knowledge. Henry also helps to rebuild a crude stock fence and is given some disconcerting advice on the way ahead. The trek continues and the desert grows more intense, the road plays out and his old water bag frays and empties, unnoticed. Perhaps heat and thirst are playing tricks with his mind, but a devil seems to be following along like a chimera, taunting him from inside the trailing billows of dust. Eventually he finds the rutted muleskinner’s road, and two gruff but nurturing muleskinners, BARRETT and CHUCHO, unhitching their wagon by a shallow river. They feed him, adopt him, and send him on to Camp Grant, also known as Hopville, for the white narcotic sometimes available there.
            Cut to:
      Henry arrives in the sutler’s roost under a grand sunset, with the bugler from nearby Fort Grant trumpeting the mess call. After wolfing down a supper of spicy stew at Verna Langdon’s Chophouse, and meeting the towering proprietress, he goes onto the Elysium bar. He pauses to admire a poster of the famous young entertainer Lotta Crabtree, just inside the door—the young queen is an uncompromising beauty with all of her revolutionary magic at play in the defiant gaze. Recognizing a kindred spirit—Henry shines the epic grin as he places two fingers on her rosebud mouth. A celebratory whiskey punch goes to his head and his feet. He starts to dance and sing along with the frailing banjoist’s minstrel numbers. Later he becomes entranced with the tumultuous fast-paced faro game and its colorful pattering casekeep—realizing how he might one day make his living here.
     
      Fade to:
      The first weeks pass in a montage as he finds work on the farms and ranches spread out around Ft. Grant, but he always heads back to Hopville and The Elysium to study the art of faro. Henry encounters the camp’s bullying hard-drinking Irish blacksmith, WINDY CAHILL, and delights in mimicking the surly oaf. There’s a hard slap and busted mouth—and a feud is begun. He also finds his way to the cribs and to CAT EYED KATE for his first taste of carnal love. Henry brazenly approaches BILLY KING, the proprietor of the Eysium’s two faro tables, in the street—convincing him that he has the math, the theater, and the balls to be a casekeep.
            Cut to:
      Henry begins to make friends in La Zona Hermosa; quickly becoming famous for his songs and stories, his extraordinary dancing at the bailes, and his willingness to teach English. He befriends the curandera, ABUELITA HERNANDEZ, who tells him an old mestizo fable that comes to life; a strange riddle about a poor starving man who steals a chicken to roast outside his jacal, only to be visited by a hungry and shifty old gummer who reveals himself to be the one true GOD. Disgusted with the Almighty’s hypocrisy, the starving peasant refuses to share and sends the old jackal on his way—in no uncertain terms. Later, he is visited by DEATH, who is also hungry and wanting to share in the simmering bird. The peasant notices Death’s large hairy belly and sharp talons, but also the honesty and tranquility of his eyes. He offers Death half of his roast chicken, observing that the Reaper is both fair and impartial; taking both the young and old, the rich and poor. Afterward their delicious meal the man expects to be packed off to the world of shades—but Death open his bag and out comes chickens, goats and a fat pig. The man is never hungry again. Profoundly drawn to the ancient tale, Henry senses that the world is a far more complicated place than he’d been taught, and that maybe he is that poor starving man—telling God to bugger off and bargaining with Death.
     
      ACT 2
     
      Henry’s feud with the blacksmith continues to roil, both at the Elysium and in the street, with the clever boy getting in his digs and occasionally paying for it in blood. Billy King decides to take him underwing. When one of Billy King’s two casekeeps dies from an overdose of hop and alcohol—Henry is installed at the Elysium and given a cot at The Lion’s Den. He becomes fast friends with fellow casekeep, JUDE BALLARD. Their exchange of gifts on Christmas day brings Moby Dick into Henry’s life. He is an avid reader of anything in print, and especially loves books about the sea. The Irish singer also begins a pursuit of gun skills, buying an unusual small pistol, a Cooper Double, that fires without having to cock the trigger.
            Cut to:
      A deadly gunfight flares one night during his shift at the Elysium—both men pulling from hideout positions—one more skillfully and cleanly than the other. A wildly flamboyant gunshark rides into Camp Grant one night and makes his spectacular entrance into the Elysium, noting Lotta Crabtree as he stands regarding the room. RUSSIAN Bill, dressed in a stylish wool suit with a black silk vest and a pair of matched pearl handled colts, makes an introductory speech and immediately charms the room. Russian Bill, a large, outrageously bold, and well-educated man, spouts an outlandish story about being a high-born Russian. He soon is buying drinks for all and betting on everything and anything. Even Cahill is charmed. Sensing opportunity Henry approaches and befriends Russian Bill the next day at the Chophouse, and is soon sitting with Bill and his friend, CAPTAIN OWEN SMITH, at a concert of Schubert art songs at Ft Grant—noticing subtle and peculiarly caressive gestures between the two men—as he takes in the stunning beauty of his first classical concert. On balance, Russian Bill, gives Henry a gritty tutorial in the deadly art of gunfighting before leaving Hopville, the departure coming as abrupt and mysterious as his arrival. The pistoleer’s many extravagant performances were perfected axioms in the art of deception, proving to Henry beyond any doubt that life on the frontier, is but a stage.
            Cut to:
      His friendship with Cat Eyed Kate continues to grow, as does his kinship with the brown folk of La Zona Hermosa, down by the river. The curandera’s nephew, MIGUEL, partners with Henry on a series of nasty pranks involving Windy Cahill. Matters grow worse when Cahill knocks out Miguel’s two front teeth. Henry’s revenge, with help from the curandera, is to slip a powerful laxative into the blacksmith’s whiskey punch during a rowdy game of faro. Cahill suddenly runs from the Elysium, shitting himself in spectacular fashion. When he returns, a month later, he is out for blood. His partner, BRANDEN MCGILLEN, stands at Cahill’s side at Billy King’s faro table, the two men glaring at Henry as he barks out his patter. An attack soon erupts and once McGillen has the pit boss with a knife to his ear, the beating gets underway. Henry dances and counterpunches but ultimately Cahill drops on top of the boy and begins to rowel punches. The drunken brute stops, winded from his exertions, and leans to one side. Henry manages to pull his hideout, firing into Cahill’s belly. The blacksmith slumps over onto the floor and Henry gets to his feet, standing amidst a cloud of hot vapor—purpled, one eye swollen tight shut, blood coursing down from a split in his scalp. He keeps his pistol on McGillen and stumbles from the room, to the Lion’s Den, and on to the stable to get his horse Dancer. After two years of training, coming of age, and searching for identity, Henry McCarty runs his troubled fate out into the desert night.
     
      ACT 3
     
      Under the big sombrero he’d stolen from under his neighbor’s cot, Henry’s face is mottled, eye still swollen shut, lips split in two places. The desert stretches out around him in all directions. He keeps reliving and seeing the fight and the pull and roar of his gun, the look in the blacksmith’s eyes. He sees Cahill leaving his body and feels a sickening tug at his own gut, almost as if he’s being lifted out of the saddle by his intestines. He looks ahead, out of the one eye, tries to grin, leans over to puke. It’s official now, Henry McCarty is a killer. He asks Dancer what she thinks of the moniker Kid Antrim, but Dancer only snorts. The two-track bends to the north and he stops at a rise to consider the wagon ruts stretching to the horizon. Henry regards the muleskinner road a long while, and then looks to the East—ultimately heading that direction and into the wilderness.
            Cut to:
      Water has become a major issue, both he and Dancer are in bad shape under the broiling sun. The eye is half open now. In the distance he sees what looks to be a deep cut in the landscape and moves towards it. Down in its depths they find a seep spring. The next day his lips have healed enough for him to sing. At sundown he begins to work his way through the endless verses of The Unfortunate Rake, almost jaunty as he points Dancer towards a sandstone bluff in the distance. Dancer is spooked mid-verse by a rattle, rears and drops Henry upright on the ground. The Cooper is out in a flash and a moment later he is lifting an enormous headless diamondback into the air. A fire crackles at the foot of the bluff as Henry slits the snake down the middle, then slowly peels the skin away in one piece with his boot on stump of his head, the dead snake fighting and writhing all the way. As the boy eats his supper, he notices the impressive petroglyphs overhead on the bluff—strange spirals, a jaguarundi, and round faces with almond eyes.
            Fade to:
      He awakens wide-eyed—a concussive blast of air had hit the Sandstone monolith he was curled up against and dust seems to have been stirred. Horse and boy stare into a night gone utterly still. Another strange sound breaks the quiet—a steady tapping begins, as if testing the resonant quality of rock—but the tone of it somehow completely unreal. The tapping stops and in the silence are sounds even more uncanny and frightening. He fights back with a sound of his own—the first song that enters his mind—another verse of ‘The Unfortunate Rake.’ As long as he sings, the night visitor is held at bay. As soon as he stops, the visitor returns. The next day is an unending torment and he has to pull himself and Dancer away from a chalky seep that tasted of copper. He keeps seeing Death and God, and smelling the savory chicken, and knowing himself to be the peasant making his bargain. He relives his mother’s painful death from consumption, and he sees the eye of a needle. But soon Henry is plunging headlong into the reddish waters of the Rio Grande and the spell is broken.
            Cut to:
      Henry heads up into the massive bulk of New Mexico's Sacramento Mountains, glad to be off the desert floor. They enter a high green valley festooned with wildflowers. Henry can’t resist the icy water of a clear stream and lunches afterward on dried snake meat. He pulls out the misunderstood novel and in his mind he’s faraway, at sea; the crew of the Pequod badly spooked by the sound of sirens, ghosts, calling out in the night. His head jerks up at the sound of hooves—a small band of angry Mescaleros quickly surround him against the creek and unscalable cliff to his back. Most in the band want to kill him for trespassing and to make him pay for all the indignities they’ve suffered from the whites. But the elder of the band prevails and after Henry gives them his horse and sings to them —they ride on, leaving him afoot. He stumbles on in a cloud of grief over trading his best friend for his life.
            Cut to:
      Stumbling a bit, he makes his way along a timbered ridge. Inside his boots the socks are worn away to nothing—and his blistered feet are on fire, each step an ordeal. He sits down heavily, collapses back against the mountain, closes his eyes. Feeling despondent and feverish, his heart returns to his first home. Back to New York and his mother, and father. Back to his beginnings and the mighty tempest that shook his childhood to its foundation.
     
      Fade to:
      Catherine’s reads stories to her boys from a short pile of worn books. A mere three blocks from their snug little apartment is the rowdy, stinking, glorious world of the Five Points. She sets the books aside and recounts a story from her own fertile imagination—the heroic tale of Mose the 8 ft Irish Giant— at tale’s end HENRY shouts with delight. She calms the boys to sleep with a last word picture, the waves crashing ashore on Coney Island, their destination tomorrow.
     
      Cut to:
      The North Point Ferry plying the bay currents and carrying the little family to their holiday, the coach crunching along the shell road on Coney Island with Catherine and Henry singing a Gaelic ballad, the actual rabbits for which the island is named—darting from bush to hole in the fields as they cross towards the beach. Finally, the sand and gulls and ships out on the sound, and the little family enjoying a last peaceful dream of happiness that collides with a grey storm.
     
            Cut to:
      Trying to get home the family is innocently caught up in a harrowing draft riot. They are surrounded by an enormous mass of people shoving along in a wide street. The terrible roar of the crowd is deafening. Catherine is in danger of being dragged into an alley by a would-be rapist but is saved by the sudden appearance of a family friend, Jimmy the Bracer, a 6 ft 8 real-life giant. Jimmy clouts the miscreant to the ground and quickly realizes he must get the little family out of it. He scoops up Henry and Catherine and Joe follow in his wake. They see police stations and brownstones burning, black men hanging from lamp poles and set afire. Twice Jimmy has to set Henry down to clear the way, first with fists, and then with a huge timber. The Bracer delivers the family home but the father, gone to soldier, lies in a Pennsylvania ditch.
     
            Cut to:
     
      Grim-faced men are hard at the terrible work of removing and interring the dead after the greatest battle of the Civil War. A ragtag group of black contrabands trundle into the shattered forest, stopping at a ravine. Down below a twisted mass of bodies and debris lies at the bottom of the shallow cut. At the top of the mound a corpse gazes up at the summer sky. Only the head and one arm visible. The face still somehow clinging to its handsome past, and eyes a light mystic blue. As the closeup slowly fades, the son’s face is superimposed over the fathers.
     
            Fade to:
      Henry opens his eyes, looking up at the sky his father can no longer see. He walks on towards the opening of a vista point, dazed. Suddenly he is standing on the edge of a promontory. An immense rolling plain lies below. But Henry sees a great ocean, rolling away to the far horizon—he seems to see a whaling ship under sail in the distance, with the try-pots burning. He blinks and his eyes re-focus—in reality there’s a cluster of buildings out on the prairie and smoke rising from a fireplace. His lips tremble but then a hint of the big grin returns.
     
            Cut to:
      The ranch sits on a low rise, looking out over a wide span of scrub and mesquite. It is Sunday afternoon and MA'AM JONES sits on her porch watching the children and waiting for her husband to return from a worrisome trip. A teenage boy sits nearby, cleaning a shotgun. Noticing an unusual movement out in the chaparral, Ma’am Jones gets up from her rocker and the careworn eyes sharpen. Not sure what kind of trouble it might be, she hurries the kids onto the porch. But it’s only a boy limping into view. The eldest son, BUCK, runs out to help, throwing a strong arm around Henry. A cluster of children join the excitement, skipping and dancing around their older brother and the blue-eyed ragamuffin in his jaunty hat. Ma’am Jones gets under Henry’s other shoulder, smiling warmly into the boy’s blue eyes like the big-hearted mother she is. When Henry asks where he is—she welcomes him to the Jones ranch, and to Lincoln County.
     
      END