Mr. Potter:
George, I am an old man and most people hate me. But I don't like them either, so that makes it all even. You know just as well as I do that I run practically everything in this town but the Bailey Building and Loan. You know, also, that for a number of years I've been trying to get control of it. Or kill it. But I haven't been able to do it. You have been stopping me. In fact, you have beaten me, George, and as anyone in this county can tell you, that takes some doing. Now take during the Depression, for instance. You and I were the only ones that kept our heads. You saved the Building and Loan, I saved all the rest.
George Bailey:
Yes, well, most people say you stole all the rest.
Mr. Potter:
The envious ones say that, George. The suckers. Now, I have stated my side very frankly. Now let's look at your side. A young man, age 27... 28... , married, making, say, $40 a week.
George Bailey:
Forty-five!
Mr. Potter:
Forty-five. $45 a week. Out of which, after supporting your mother and paying your bills, you're able to keep, say, ten, if you skimp. A child or two comes along and you won't even be able to save the ten. Now, if this young man of 28 was a common, ordinary yokel, I'd say he was doing fine. But George Bailey is not a common, ordinary yokel. He is an intelligent, smart, ambitious, young man who hates his job, who hates the Building and Loan almost as much as I do. A young man who's been dying to get out of this small town and on his own ever since he was born. A young man... the smartest one in the crowd, mind you... A young man who has to sit by and watch his friends go places because he's trapped. Yes, sir, trapped into this small town and frittering his life away, playing nursemaid to a lot of garlic eaters. Do I paint the correct picture or do I exaggerate?
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:52
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