poor mr. carter! i'm not guaranteeing a thing, mr. bernstein. you people work too fast for me! talk about new brooms! we'll be on the street soon, charlie - another ten minutes. it's been a tough day. charlie?! what're you going to do, charlie? that's the second sentence you've started with "i" - that looks pretty nice. the "chronicle" is a good newspaper. certainly not. you don't happen to have a cigar, do you? i've got a young physician - must remember to ask to see his license - the odds are a hundred to one he hasn't got one - who thinks i'm going to stop smoking. i changed the subject, didn't i? dear, dear! what a disagreeable old man i've become. you want to know what i think of charlie kane? well - i suppose he has some private sort of greatness. but he kept it to himself. he never - gave himself away - he never gave anything away. he just - left you a tip. he had a generous mind. i don't suppose anybody ever had so many opinions. that was because he had the power to express them, and charlie lived on power and the excitement of using it - but he didn't believe in anything except charlie kane. he never had a conviction in his life. i guess he died without one - that must have been pretty unpleasant. of course, a lot of us check out with no special conviction about death. but we do know what we're leaving . we believe in something. you're absolutely sure you haven't got a cigar? never mind - bernstein told you about the first days at the office, didn't he? well, charlie was a bad newspaper man even then. he entertained his readers, but he never told them the truth. i can remember everything. that's my curse, young man. it's the greatest curse that's ever been inflicted on the human race. memory - i was his oldest friend. as far as i was concerned, he behaved like swine. maybe i wasnt' his friend. if i wasn't, he never had one. maybe i was what nowadays you call a stooge - yes. mr. bernstein, these men who are now with the "enquirer" - who were with the "chronicle" until yesterday - weren't they just as devoted to the "chronicle" kind of paper as they are now to - our kind of paper? do we stand for the same things that the "chronicle" stands for, mr. bernstein? probably. there's always a chance, of course, that they'll change mr. kane - without his knowing it. our readers are, anyway, i don't know about the rest of the country. but there is no front, charlie. there's a very doubtful civil war. besides, i don't want the job. charles, i tell you there is no war! there's a condition that should be remedied - but between that and a - they do it only because you do! yes? good. i'd like that. charlie - it doesn't make any difference about me, but one of these days you're going to find out that all this charm of yours won't be enough - certainly not. i wanted him to have fun - and with me along - mr. bernstein, i wish you'd let me ask you a few questions, and answer me truthfully. mr. bernstein, am i a stuffed shirt? am i a horse-faced hypocrite? am i a new england school-marm? you're in a conspiracy against me, you two. you always have been. september the ninth? i used to go to dancing school with her. what's this? david, grobleski & davis - my dear rawlston - oh, yes. i know about mr. rawlston. i am in receipt of your favor of yesterday. i beg you to do me the courtesy of accepting my assurance that mrs. whitehall cannot be induced to contribute any more information on the career of charles foster kane. brief marriage! ten years! he married for love - that's why he did everything. that's why he went into politics. it seems we weren't enough. he wanted all the voters to love him, too. all he really wanted out of life was love. that's charlie's story - it's the story of how he lost it. you see, he just didn't have any to give. he loved charlie kane, of course, very dearly - and his mother, i guess he always loved her. as for emily - well, all i can tell you is emily's story as she told it to me, which probably isn't fair - there's supposed to be two sides to every story - and i guess there are. i guess there's more than two sides - charlie - do you think you're the one who should call him a great man? why not? well - nobody's a great man in your estimation until he's dead. competition. yesterday morning you called the president a traitor. what do you think that crowd is doing down there? they think you murdered him. - and that copy of the "enquirer" said the president should be killed. you've said a lot of things about the president in the last few months. charlie! look out that window. there are the people of the united states, and they are blaming you - oh, i know it doesn't make any sense, but at least you can learn a lesson from it. charlie! now you're not making sense. what? i'd like to talk to you about that. finish your editorial. what's happened? in there. go and get yourself washed up, mr. bernstein. there doesn't seem to be an serious injury. yes, mr. bernstein. first of all - i'm drunk. first of all, i will not write a good review of a play because somebody paid a thousand dollars for an advertisement in the "enquirer." charlie, it's just no go. we can't agree anymore. i wish you'd let me go to chicago. i want to be transferred to the new paper. you've been saying yourself you wish you had somebody to - that's not what i wanted to talk about. no, that won't help. besides, you never get drunk. i wanted to talk about you and emily. she's going to leave you - she was going to leave you anyway - emily's going south next week with the child. as far as anybody's to know, it's a holiday. when they get back - sure i am. she wants full custody of the child no matter what happens. if you won't agree to that, she'll apply for a divorce regardless of the president's wishes. i can't tell her she's wrong, because she isn't wrong - she hasn't any friends left sine you started this oil business, and she never sees you. you might have made the whole thing less personal! it isn't just that the president was her uncle - everyone she knows, all the people she's been brought up with, everything she's ever been taught to believe is important - there's no reason why this - this savage personal note - you almost convince me. i'm just drunk enough to tell you the truth. i have to be a little drunk for that because i'm a coward. you know that. that's why you keep me around. you only associate with your inferiors, charlie. i guess that's why you ran away from emily. because you can't stand the company of your equals. you don't like to admit they exist - the other big people in your world are dead. i told you that. you talk about the people of the united states as though they belonged to you. when you find out they don't think they are, you'll lose interest. you talk about giving them their rights as though you could make a present of liberty. remember the working man? you used to defend him quite a good deal. well, he's turning into something called organized labor and you don't like that at all. and listen, when your precious underprivileged really get together - that's going to add up to something bigger than - than your privilege and then i don't know what you'll do - sail away to a desert island, probably, and lord it over the monkeys. yes. now, will you let me go to chicago? that's all right. what are you going to do about emily? you want love on your own terms, don't you, charlie - love according to your own rules. and if anything goes wrong and you're hurt - then the game stops, and you've got to be soothed and nursed, no matter what else is happening - and no matter who else is hurt! i know you will. no. i wish you'd go home to emily. she'll be pretty upset by all this - she still loves you - yes. i couldn't possibly live on as little as that, charlie. we'll let the salary stay where it is. emily - chicago is pretty close to new york nowadays - only twenty hours - i'm glad to see you. almost two to one - emily! emily, you're being - a little unfair - you know what i think of charles' behavior - about your personal lives - know that, emily - emily, you - it's - all over - he's paying for it, emily. those returns tonight - he's finished. politically - - socially, everywhere, i guess. don't know about the papers, but - hello, bernstein. where is it - where's my notice? i've got to finish it! kane? charlie? where is he? i suppose he's fixing it up - i know i'd never get that through. hello, charlie - well, that's about all there is - and i'm getting chills. hey, nurse! five years ago, he wrote from that place of his down south - - you know. shangri-la? el dorado? sloppy joe's? what's the name of that place? you know. all right. xanadu. i knew what it was all the time. you caught on, didn't you? i guess maybe i'm not as hard to see through as i think. anyway, i never even answered his letter. maybe i should have. i guess he was pretty lonely down there those last years. he hadn't finished it when she left him - he never finished it - he never finished anything. of course, he built it for her - i don't know. he was disappointed in the world. so he built one of his own - an absolute monarchy - it was something bigger than an opera house anyway - nurse! say, i'll tell you one thing you can do for me, young fellow. on your way out, stop at a cigar store, will you, and send me up a couple of cigars? hey, nurse! i'm ready to go in now. you know when i was a young man, there was an impression around that nurses were pretty. it was no truer then than it is now. all right, all right. you won't forget, will you, about the cigars? and tell them to wrap them up to look like toothpaste, or something, or they'll stop them at the desk. that young doctor i was telling you about, he's got an idea he wants to keep me alive.