News on the March.
Legendary was the Xanadu...
...where Kubla Khan decreed his stately pleasure dome.
Today, almost as legendary, is Florida's Xanadu...
...the world's largest private pleasure ground.
Here on the deserts of the Gulf Coast, a private mountain...
...was commissioned and successfully built.
One hundred thousand trees, twenty thousand tons of marble...
...are the ingredients of Xanadu's mountain.
Contents of Xanadu's palace:
Paintings, pictures, statues, various stones of other palaces.
A collection of everything.
So big it can never be cataloged or appraised.
Enough for 10 museums, the loot of the world.
...the fowl of the air, the fish of the sea, the beast of the field and jungle...
...two of each, the biggest private zoo since Noah.
Like the pharaohs...
...Xanadu's landlord leaves many stones to mark his grave.
Since the pyramids...
...Xanadu is the costliest monument...
...a man has built to himself.
Here in Xanadu last week...
...Xanadu's landlord was laid to rest.
A potent figure of our century...
...America's Kubla Khan:
Charles Foster Kane.
Its humble beginnings, in this ramshackle building, a dying daily.
Kane's empire, in its glory...
...held dominion over 37 newspapers, two syndicates...
...a radio network, an empire upon an empire.
The first of grocery stores, paper mills...
...apartment buildings, factories, forests, ocean liners.
An empire through which for 50 years...
...flowed in an unending stream...
...the wealth of the Earth's third richest gold mine.
Famed in American legend is the origin of the Kane fortune.
How, to boarding housekeeper Mary Kane, by a defaulting boarder, in 1868...
...was left the supposedly worthless deed to an abandoned mineshaft:
The Colorado Lode.
Fifty-seven years later, before a congressional investigation...
...Walter P. Thatcher, grand old man of Wall Street...
...for years chief target of Kane papers' attacks on trusts...
...recalls a journey he made as a youth.
My firm had been appointed trustee by Mrs. Kane...
...for a large fortune she recently acquired.
It was her wish that I take charge of this boy, Charles Foster Kane.
Chief, is it not, that on this occasion, Charles Foster Kane...
...personally attacked you after striking you in the stomach with a sled?
I shall read to the committee a prepared statement...
...which I have brought with me, and then refuse to answer questions.
Mr. Charles Foster Kane, in every essence of his social beliefs...
...and by the dangerous manner he has persistently attacked...
...American traditions of private property...
...initiative and opportunity for advancement...
...is, in fact, nothing more or less than a communist.
That same month in Union Square...
The words "Charles Foster Kane"...
...are a menace to every workingman in this land.
He is today what he has always been A fascist.
And still another opinion...
Kane urged his country's entry into one war...
...opposed participation in another.
Swung the election to one American president at least.
Spoke for millions of Americans.
Was hated by as many more.
For 40 years appeared in Kane newsprint...
...no public issue on which Kane papers took no stand.
No public man whom Kane himself did not support or denounce.
Often support, then denounce.
Twice married, twice divorced.
First to a president's niece...
...Emily Norton, who left him in 1916.
Died 1918 in a motor accident with their son.
Sixteen years after his first marriage...
...two weeks after his first divorce...
...Kane married Susan Alexander...
...singer, at the Town Hall in Trenton, New Jersey.
For wife two, one-time opera-singing Susan Alexander...
...Kane built Chicago's Municipal Opera House.
Conceived for Susan Alexander Kane, half-finished before she divorced him...
...the still unfinished...
No man can say.
Kane, molder of mass opinion though he was...
...in all his life was never granted elective office...
...by the voters of his country.
But Kane papers were once strong indeed...
...and once the prize seemed almost his.
In 1916, as independent candidate for governor...
...the best elements of the state behind him...
...the White House seemingly the next easy step in a lightning political career...
...then suddenly, less than one week before election...
...defeat. Shameful, ignominious.
Defeat that set back for 20 years the cause of reform in the U. S...
...forever canceled political chances for Charles Foster Kane.
Then, in the first year of the Great Depression...
...a Kane paper closes.
For Kane, in four short years, collapse.
Eleven Kane papers merged, more sold, scrapped.
Is that correct?
Don't believe everything you hear on the radio.
Read the Inquirer. How were business conditions in Europe?
How did I find business conditions in Europe, Mr. Bones?
With great difficulty.
Are you glad to be back?
I'm always glad to be back. I'm an American.
Always been an American. Anything else?
When I was a reporter, we asked them quicker than that.
What do you think of the chances for war in Europe?
I talked with the responsible leaders of England, France, Germany and Italy.
They're too intelligent to embark on a project...
...which would mean the end of civilization.
You can take my word for it, there will be no war.
Kane helped to change the world...
...but Kane's world now is history...
...and the great yellow journalist himself lived to be history...
...outlived his power to make it.
Alone in his never-finished, already decaying pleasure palace...
...aloof, seldom visited, never photographed...
...an emperor of newsprint continued to direct his failing empire.
Vainly attempted to sway, as he once did...
...the destinies of a nation that had ceased to listen to him...
...ceased to trust him.
Then last week, as it must to all men...
...death came to Charles Foster Kane.
News on the March.
That's it. Hello. Hello.
Stand by. I'll tell you if we want to run it again.
How about it, Mr. Rawlston? How do you like it?
Seventy years in a man's life.
That's a lot to try to get into a newsreel.
It's a good short, but what it needs is an angle.
All we saw on that screen was that Charles Foster Kane is dead.
I know that. I read the papers.
It isn't enough to tell us what a man did...
...you've got to tell us who he was.
Wait a minute. What were Kane's last words?
Do you remember, boys?
What were the last words he said on Earth?
Maybe he told us about himself on his deathbed.
Maybe he didn't. All we saw was a big American.
How did he differ from Ford, Hearst or John Doe?
Yeah, sure. I tell you, a man's dying words...
What were they? You don't read the papers.
When Charles Foster Kane died, he said one word:
"Rosebud." That's all he said? Tough guy.
Yes, "Rosebud." Just that one word.
But who is she? What was it?
Here's a man who could've been president...
...who was as loved, hated and talked about...
...as any man in our time, but when he dies...
...something is on his mind called Rosebud.
What does that mean? A racehorse he bet on once.
That didn't come in. But what was the race?
Hold this up a week, two if you must. Don't you think right after he's dead...
Find out about Rosebud. Get in touch with anybody who knew him or knew him well.
That manager of his... Uh...
Bernstein. His second wife. She's still living.
Susan Alexander Kane.
She runs a nightclub in Atlantic City. That's right.
See them all. Get in touch with everybody that ever worked for him...
...whoever loved him, whoever hated his guts.
I don't mean go through the city directory of course.
I'll get on it right away.
Good. Rosebud, dead or alive.
It will probably turn out to be a very simple thing.
This is Mr. Thompson, Miss Alexander.
I want another drink, John.
Right away. Will you have something, Mr. Thompson?
I'll have a highball, please. Who told you you could sit down?
I thought maybe we could have a talk.
Can't you people leave me alone?
I'm minding my own business, you mind yours.
If I could just have a talk with you, Miss Alexander. I'd...
Get out of here.
Sorry. Get out.
Maybe some other time. Get out.
Get her another highball.
She just won't talk to nobody, Mr. Thompson.
Another double? Yeah.
Hello, I want New York City.
Courtland 79970. This is Atlantic City 46827. All right.
She's, uh... Yeah.
She'll snap out of it.
Why, until he died, she'd just as soon talk about Mr. Kane as any...
This is Thompson. Let me talk to the chief.
Mr. Rawlston? She won't talk.
The second Mrs. Kane. About Rosebud or anything else.
I'm calling from Atlantic City.
Tomorrow I'll go to Philadelphia, to Thatcher Library, to see his diary.
They're expecting me.
Then I've a meeting with his general manager in New York. Bernstein.
Then I'm coming back here.
Yeah, I'll see everybody that's still alive. Goodbye.
Hey... Um... John.
You just might be able to help me.
When she used to talk about Mr. Kane, did she ever mention Rosebud?
Thank you, Mr. Thompson, thanks.
As a matter of fact, just the other day, when the papers were full of it...
...I asked her.
She never heard of Rosebud.
The directors of the Thatcher Memorial Library have asked me...
...to remind you about the conditions under which you may...
...inspect certain portions of Mr. Thatcher's unpublished memoirs.
I remember them. Yes, Jennings, I'll bring him in.
All I want is an hour... Under no circumstances...
...are direct quotes from his manuscript to be used by you. You may follow me.
That's all right. I'm just looking for...
Thank you, Jennings.
You will be required to leave this room at 4:30 promptly.
You will confine yourself, it is our understanding...
...to the chapters in Mr. Thatcher's manuscript regarding Mr. Kane.
That's all I'm interested in.
Pages 83 to 142.
Come on, boys.
Be careful, Charles. Mrs. Kane.
Pull your muffler around your neck, Charles.
Mrs. Kane, I think we'll have to tell him now.
Yes, I'll sign those papers now, Mr. Thatcher.
You people seem to forget that I'm the boy's father.
It's going to be done exactly the way I've told Mr. Thatcher.
There's nothing wrong with Colorado. I don't see why we can't raise our son...
...just because we came into money.
If I want to, I can go to court. A father has a right to.
A boarder that beats his bill and leaves worthless stock behind...
That property is as much my property as anybody's...
...now that it's valuable. And if Fred Graves had any idea...
...this would happen, he'd have made out the certificates in both our names.
But they're made out to Mrs. Kane. He owed the money to both of us.
"The bank's decision in all matters..." I don't hold with giving Charles to a bank...
Stop this nonsense. We're a bit uneducated...
"The bank's decision concerning his education...
...his places of residence, is to be final."
The idea of a bank being the guardian... Stop this nonsense, Jim.
"We will assume full management of the Colorado Lode"...
...which I repeat, Mrs. Kane, you are the sole owner.
Where do I sign, Mr. Thatcher? Right here.
Mary, I'm asking you for the last time.
You'd think I hadn't been a good husband or father...
The sum of $50,000 a year...
...is to be paid to you and Mr. Kane as long as you both live...
...and thereafter to the survivor.
Let's hope it's all for the best. It is.
The union forever!
Why I can't raise my own boy is more than I can understand.
Go on, Mr. Thatcher.
Everything else, the principal, as well as all monies earned...
...is to be administered by the bank in trust for your son, Charles Foster Kane...
...until he reaches his 25th birthday, at which time...
...he is to come into complete possession.
Go on, Mr. Thatcher.
Well, it's almost 5. Don't you think I'd better meet the boy?
I've got his trunk all packed.
I've had it packed for a week now.
I've arranged for a tutor to meet us in Chicago.
I'd have brought him here with me, but...
Charles. Lookie, Mom.
You'd better come inside.
That's quite a snowman. I took the pipe out of his mouth.
Did you make it yourself?
Maybe I'll make some teeth and whiskers.
This is Mr. Thatcher, Charles.
Hello. How do you do, Charles?
He comes from the East.
Pa. Hello, Charlie.
Mr. Thatcher is going to take you on a trip with him tonight.
You'll be leaving on number 10.
That's the train with all the lights on it.
You going, Mom?
No. Your mother won't be going right away, but she'll...
Where am I going?
You're going to see Chicago and New York and Washington, maybe. Ain't he?
He certainly is.
I wish I were a boy going on a trip like that for the first time.
Why aren't you coming with us, Mom? We have to stay here, Charles.
You're gonna live with Mr. Thatcher from now on, Charlie.
You're gonna be rich. Your ma figures, well, that is...
...me and her decided this ain't the place for you to grow up in.
You'll probably be the richest man someday...
...and you ought to get... You won't be lonely.
Lonely, of course not. We're going to have fine times together, we are.
Let's shake hands. Come. I'm not that frightening, am I?
What do you say? Let's shake. Why, Charles.
Why, you almost hurt me. Charlie!
Sleds aren't to hit people, but to sleigh with.
You got to go. Jim!
I'm sorry, Mr. Thatcher. What the kid needs is a good thrashing.
That's what you think, is it? Yes.
That's why he's going to be brought up where you can't get at him.
...Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
And a happy New Year.
...may I remind you your 25th birthday, which is now approaching...
...marks your complete independence from the firm...
...of Thatcher & Company, as well as acquiring the full responsibility...
...for the world's sixth largest private fortune.
Got that? "The world's sixth largest private fortune."
I don't think you realize the full importance of the position you are to occupy.
I am therefore enclosing for your consideration...
...a list of your holdings, extensively cross-indexed.
"Dear Mr. Thatcher." It's from Mr. Kane.
Go on. "Sorry, I'm not interested in gold mines...
...oil wells, shipping or real estate."
The New York Inquirer.
A little newspaper we acquired in a foreclosure proceeding.
Don't sell it. I am coming back to take charge.
"I think it would be fun to run a newspaper."
I think it would be fun to run a newspaper.
"Traction Trust exposed."
"Traction Trust bleeds public white."
"Traction Trust smashed by Inquirer."
"Landlords refuse to clear slums."
"Inquirerwins slum fight." Oh...
"Wall Street backs copper swindle."
"Copper robbers indicted."
"Galleons of Spain off Jersey Coast."
Is that really your idea of how to run a newspaper?
I don't know how to run a newspaper. I try everything I can think of.
You know there's not the slightest proof this...
...armada's off the Jersey Coast. Hello, Mr. Bernstein.
Can you prove it isn't?
Mr. Bernstein, I'd like you to meet Mr. Thatcher.
Mr. Leland. Hello.
Mr. Thatcher, my ex-guardian.
We have no secrets from our readers. Thatcher is one of our devoted readers.
He knows what's wrong with every copy of the Inquirer since I took over. Read.
"Girls delightful in Cuba. Stop. Could send you prose poems..."
...about scenery but don't feel right spending your money. Stop.
There is no war in Cuba." Signed "Wheeler." Any answer?
You provide the prose poems, I'll provide the war.
That's fine. I like it myself. Send it right away.
I came to see you about this campaign of yours.
The Inquirer's campaign against the Public Transit Company.
Do you know anything we can use against them?
Still the college boy, eh?
I was expelled from college, a lot of colleges, you remember? I remember.
Charles, I think I should remind you of a fact you have forgotten.
You're one of the largest stockholders in the Public Transit Company.
The trouble is, you don't realize you're talking to two people.
As Charles Foster Kane who owns 82,364 shares...
...of Public Transit Preferred. See, I do have a general idea of my holdings.
I sympathize with you. Kane is a scoundrel...
...his paper should be closed, a committee formed to boycott him.
If you can form such a committee, put me down for a contribution of $1000.
On the other hand, I am the publisher of the Inquirer.
As such it's my duty, I'll let you in on a little secret. It is also my pleasure...
...to see that the working people of this community aren't robbed by a pack...
...of money-mad pirates, just because...
...they have no one to look after their interests.
I'll let you in on another little secret, Mr. Thatcher:
I think I'm the man to do it. You see, I have money and property.
If I don't look after the interests of the underprivileged, somebody else will.
Maybe somebody without money or property.
That would be too bad.
I saw your financial statement today.
Oh, did you? Tell me, honestly...
...don't you think it's rather unwise to continue this philanthropic enterprise...
...this Inquirer, that is costing you $1 million a year?
Yes. I did lose $1 million last year. I expect to lose $1 million this year.
I expect to lose $1 million next year.
At the rate of $1 million a year...
...I'll have to close this place in 60 years.
"With respect to the said newspapers..."
...the said Charles Foster Kane...
...hereby relinquishes all control thereof...
...and of the syndicates pertaining thereto...
...and any and all other newspaper, press and publishing properties of any kind...
"...and agrees to abandon all claim thereto..."
Which means we're bust all right. Well, out of cash.
All right, Mr. Bernstein.
I've read it, Mr. Thatcher, just let me sign it and go home.
You're too old to call me Mr. Thatcher, Charles.
You're too old to be called anything else.
You were always too old.
"In consideration thereof, Thatcher & Company agrees...
...to pay to Charles Foster Kane, as long as he lives..."
"You will continue to maintain over your newspapers a large...
...measure of control. Measure of control."
And we shall seek your advice.
This depression is temporary.
There's always the chance that you'll die richer than I will.
It's a cinch I'll die richer than I was born.
We never lost as much as we made.
Yes, yes, but your methods. You know, Charles...
...you never made a single investment. You always used money to...
To buy things. Hmm?
To buy things.
My mother should have chosen a less reliable banker.
I always gagged on that silver spoon.
You know, Mr. Bernstein...
...if I hadn't been very rich...
...I might have been a really great man.
Don't you think you are?
I think I did pretty well under the circumstances.
What would you like to have been?
Everything you hate.
Oh... I beg your pardon, sir? What did you say?
It's 4:30. Isn't it, Jennings? Yes, ma'am.
You have enjoyed a very rare privilege, young man.
Did you find what you were looking for? No.
You're not Rosebud, are you? What?
Rosebud, and your name is Jennings, isn't it?
Goodbye, everybody. Thanks for the use of the hall.
Who's a busy man, me? I'm chairman of the board.
I got nothing but time. What do you want to know?
We thought maybe... If we could find out what he meant by his last words...
...as he was dying. That "Rosebud"?
Maybe some girl?
There were a lot of them in the early days.
It's hardly likely that Mr. Kane could have met someone casually...
...and then 50 years later, on his deathbed...
Well, you're pretty young, Mr. Thompson.
A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn't think he'd remember.
You take me.
One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry...
...and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in...
...and on it there was a girl waiting to get off.
A white dress she had on.
She was carrying a white parasol.
I only saw her for one second.
She didn't see me at all, but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since...
...that I haven't thought of that girl.
Who else have you been to see? Well, I went down to Atlantic City.
I called her myself the day after he died.
I thought maybe somebody ought to.
She couldn't even come to the phone. I'll be seeing her again in a couple of days.
About Rosebud, Mr. Bernstein.
If you'd talk about anything connected with Mr. Kane that you can remember.
You were with him from the beginning.
From before the beginning, young fellow. And now it's after the end.
Have you tried to see anybody except Susie?
I haven't seen anybody else, but I've been through Walter Thatcher's journal.
That man was the biggest fool I ever met. He made an awful lot of money.
Well, it's no trick to make a lot of money...
...if all you want...
...is to make a lot of money.
You take Mr. Kane.
It wasn't money he wanted.
Thatcher never did figure him out. Sometimes even I couldn't.
You know who you ought to see? Mr. Leland.
He was Mr. Kane's closest friend. They went to school together.
Oh, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell, Switzerland.
He was thrown out of a lot of colleges.
Mr. Leland never had a nickel.
One of those families where the father is worth $10 million...
...then one day he shoots himself, and it turns out there's nothing but debts.
He was with Mr. Kane and me...
...the first day Mr. Kane took over the Inquirer.
Take a good look at it, Jedediah.
It's going to look a lot different one of these days. Come on.
There ain't no bedrooms in this joint. That's a newspaper building.
You're getting paid, mister, for opinions or for hauling?
Jedediah. After you, Mr. Kane.
Excuse me, sir, but I...
Welcome, Mr. Kane. Welcome.
Welcome to the Inquirer, Mr. Kane.
I am Herbert Carter, the editor-in-chief.
Thank you, Mr. Carter. This is Mr. Leland... How do you do, Mr. Leland?
Our new dramatic critic. I hope I haven't made a mistake.
It is dramatic critic, right? That's right.
Are they standing for me? You? Oh, Mr. Kane.
How do you do? How do you do?
I thought it would be a nice little gesture.
Ask them to sit down, will you, please. The new publisher.
You may resume your duties, gentlemen. Thank you.
I didn't know your plans. I don't know my plans myself.
Matter of fact, I haven't got any plans. No?
Except to get out a newspaper.
Whoops. Mr. Bernstein.
Yes, Mr. Kane.
Mr. Carter, this is Mr. Bernstein.
Mr. Bernstein is my general manager. How do you do, Mr. Carter?
Mr. Carter. How do you do?
Yes, Mr. Bernstine. Stein.
Kane. Mr. Carter, is this your office?
My little private sanctum is at your disposal.
Excuse me. But I don't understand.
Mr. Carter, I'm going to live right here in your office as long as I have to.
Live here? Yes?
Excuse me. But a morning newspaper, after all...
We're practically closed for 12 hours a day.
That's one of the things that's going to have to be changed here.
The news goes on for 24 hours a day. Twenty-four?
That's right. Excuse me.
I've drawn that cartoon. I'm no good as a cartoonist.
You certainly aren't.
You're the dramatic critic, Leland.
You still eating? I'm still hungry.
Here's a front-page story in the Chronicle...
...about a Mrs. Harry Silverstone in Brooklyn who's missing.
She's probably murdered. Why isn't there something about it in the Inquirer?
We're running a newspaper...
I'm absolutely starving to death. ...not a scandal sheet.
That's all right.
Mr. Carter, here is a three-column headline in the Chronicle.
Why hasn't the Inquirer a three-column headline?
The news wasn't big enough. Mm-hm.
Mr. Carter, if the headline is big enough, it makes the news big enough.
That's right! The murder of Mrs. Harry Silverstone...
There's no proof that she was murdered, or dead.
It says she's missing. The neighbors are getting suspicious.
It's not our function to report the gossip of housewives.
If we were interested in that kind of thing, we could fill the paper twice over, daily.
That's the kind of thing we are going to be interested in from now on.
I want you to send your best man to see Mr. Silverstone.
Have him tell Mr. Silverstone if he doesn't produce his wife, Mrs. Silverstone...
...the Inquirerwill have him arrested. Wha...?
Tell Mr. Silverstone he's a detective from, uh...
Central Office. The Central Office.
If Mr. Silverstone gets suspicious and asks to see your man's badge...
...your man is to get indignant and call Mr. Silverstone an anarchist.
Loudly, so the neighbors can hear. You ready for dinner, Jedediah?
I can't see that the function of a respectable newspaper...
Thank you so much, Mr. Carter. Goodbye.
Paper! Read all about it!
Read all about it in the early morning Chronicle.
The mystery of the lady that vanished in Brooklyn.
Read all about it in the early morning Chronicle.
We'll be on the street soon, Charlie, another 10 minutes.
Three hours and 50 minutes late, but we did it.
Tired? A tough day.
A wasted day. Wasted?
You only made the paper over four times tonight, that's all.
I've changed the front page a little, Mr. Bernstein. That's not enough.
There's something I've got to get into this paper besides pictures and print.
I've got to make the New York Inquirer as important to New York...
...as the gas in that light.
What are you going to do, Charlie?
My Declaration of Principles. Don't smile, Jedediah.
I've got it all written out here.
You don't want to make any promises you don't want to keep.
These'll be kept.
"I'll provide the people of this city..."
...with a daily paper that will tell all the news honestly.
I will also provide..." That's two sentences starting with "I."
People will know who's responsible...
...and they'll get the truth in the Inquirer, quickly, simply and entertainingly.
No special interests will be allowed to interfere with that truth.
"I will also provide them with a fighting and tireless champion of their rights...
...as citizens and as human beings."
"Charles Foster Kane."
Can I have that, Charlie? I'm going to print it.
Yes, Mr. Kane?
I want you to run this editorial in a box on the front page.
This morning's front page?
That's right, Solly, that means we'll have to remake again.
Yes. Go down and tell them.
All right. Solly.
When you're through with that, I'd like to have it back.
I'd like to keep that particular piece of paper myself.
I have a hunch it might turn out to be something pretty important.
A document... Sure.
...Like the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution...
...and my first report card at school.
I know you're tired, gentlemen, but I brought you here for a reason.
This little pilgrimage will do us good. The Chronicle's a good newspaper.
Chronicle's a good idea for a newspaper. Notice the circulation.
495,000. But look who's working for the Chronicle.
With them, it's no trick to get circulation. You're right.
You know how long it took the Chronicle to get that staff together?
Twenty years. Twenty years?
Six years ago, I looked at a picture of the world's greatest newspaper men.
I felt like a kid in front of a candy store.
Tonight, six years later, I got my candy, all of it.
Welcome, gentlemen, to the Inquirer.
Make an extra copy of that picture and mail it to the Chronicle.
It'll make you all happy to learn that our circulation this morning...
I hope you'll forgive my rudeness in taking leave of you.
I'm going abroad next week for a vacation.
I've promised my doctor for sometime that I would leave when I could.
I now realize I can't.
Say, Mr. Kane, as long as you're promising...
...there's a lot of pictures and statues in Europe you ain't bought yet.
You can't blame me, Mr. Bernstein.
They've been making statues for 2000 years.
And I've only been buying for five.
Promise me, Mr. Kane. I promise, Mr. Bernstein.
Thank you. Mr. Bernstein?
You don't expect me to keep any of those promises, do you?
And now, gentlemen!
Your complete attention, if you please.
Are we going to declare war on Spain?
Oh, mama, here they come. Shoot me while I'm happy.
I said, "Are we going to declare war on Spain, or are we not?"
The Inquirer already has.
You long-faced, overdressed anarchist.
I am not overdressed.
You are, too. Mr. Bernstein, look at his necktie.
Let's have the song about Charlie.
Is there a song about Charlie? Is there a song about you, Mr. Kane?
You buy a bag of peanuts in this town, you get a song written about you.
I've seen that fellow. He's good.
Good evening, Mr. Kane.
There is a man There is a man A certain man A certain man And for the poor you may be sure That he'll do all he can Who is this one? Who is this one?
This favorite son This favorite son Just by his action Has the traction magnates on the run Who loves to smoke Who loves to smoke Enjoys a joke Ha-ha-ha Who wouldn't get a bit upset If he were really broke With wealth and fame With wealth and fame He's still the same I'll bet you five you're not alive If you don't know his name
What is his name?
It's Charlie Kane, it's Mister Kane!
He doesn't like that Mister He likes good old Charlie Kane
Isn't it wonderful? Such a party. Yes.
What's the matter?
Who says a miss was made to kiss And when he meets one Always tries to do exactly this Who buys the food Who buys the drinks Who thinks that dough was made to spend And acts the way he thinks Now is it, Joe, no, no, no Bernstein, these men who are now with the Inquirer...
...who were with the Chronicle until yesterday...
Oh, mama, please.
Give me that. What? The blond?
No, the brunette. Where did you learn that, Charlie?
Bernstein, these men who were with the Chronicle...
...weren't they just as devoted to the Chronicle policy...
...as they are now to our policies?
Sure, they're just like anybody else.
They got work to do, they do it.
Only they happen to be the best men in the business.
Do we stand for the same things the Chronicle stands for?
Listen, Mr. Kane, he'll have them changed to his kind of newspapermen in a week.
There's always a chance, of course, that they'll change Mr. Kane.
Without his knowing it.
Mr. Leland, I got a cable from Mr. Kane!
Mr. Leland! I got a cable from Mr. Kane. What?
From Paris, France. What?
From Paris, France. Come on in.
Who by his action Has the traction magnates on the run It's a good thing he promised not to send back any more statues.
Look, he wants to buy the world's biggest diamond.
Why didn't you go to Europe with him? He wanted you to.
I wanted Charlie to have fun, with me along...
Bernstein, am I a stuffed shirt?
Am I a horse-faced hypocrite? Am I a New England schoolmarm?
If you thought I'd answer you different from what Mr. Kane tells you, I wouldn't.
"World's biggest diamond."
I didn't know Charlie was collecting diamonds.
He's collecting somebody that's collecting diamonds.
Anyway, he ain't only collecting statues.
"Welcome home, Mr. Kane...
...from 467 employees of the New York Inquirer."
Here he comes!
Welcome, Mr. Kane.
I know I've a mustache. It looks awful.
Have we got a society editor?
Right here, Mr. Kane. Miss Townsend is the society editor.
Miss Townsend, this is Mr. Charles Foster Kane.
Uh... Miss Townsend, I've been away so long. I don't know your routine.
I got a little social announcement.
I wish you wouldn't treat it any differently than you would any other...
Mr. Kane, on behalf of all the employees of the Inquirer...
Mr. Bernstein, thank you very much, everybody, I...
I'm sorry, I can't accept it now.
Say, he was in an awful hurry.
Hey, everybody, look out here.
Let's go to the window.
Mr. Leland! Mr. Bernstein! Yes, Ms. Townsend?
"Mr. And Mrs. Thomas Monroe Norton..."
...announce the engagement of their daughter, Emily Monroe Norton...
...to Mr. Charles Foster Kane." Huh?
Emily Monroe Norton, she's the niece of the President of the United States.
Before he's through, she'll be a president's wife.
The way things turned out, I don't need to tell you.
Miss Emily Norton was no rosebud.
It didn't end very well, did it?
Then there was Susie. That ended too.
You know, Mr. Thompson, I was thinking...
...this Rosebud you're trying to find out about...
Maybe that was something he lost.
Mr. Kane was a man who lost almost everything he had.
You ought to see Jed Leland.
Of course, he and Mr. Kane didn't exactly see eye to eye.
You take the Spanish-American war.
I guess Mr. Leland was right. That was Mr. Kane's war.
We didn't really have anything to fight about.
Do you think if it hadn't been for that war of Mr. Kane's...
...we'd have the Panama Canal?
I wish I knew where Mr. Leland was.
A lot of the time now they don't tell me these things.
Maybe even he's dead.
In case you'd like to know...
...he's at the Huntington Memorial Hospital on 180th Street.
You don't say. I had...
Nothing particular the matter with him, they tell me, just...
Just old age.
It's the only disease that you don't look forward to being cured of.
I can remember absolutely everything, young man.
That's my curse.
That's one of the greatest curses Memory.
I was his oldest friend, and as far as I was concerned, he behaved like a swine.
Not that Charlie was ever brutal. He just did brutal things.
Maybe I wasn't his friend, but if I wasn't, he never had one.
Maybe I was what you nowadays call a stooge.
You were about to say something about Rosebud.
Do you happen to have a good cigar?
I've got a young physician here who thinks I'm going to give up smoking.
No, I'm afraid I haven't. Sorry. Oh, oh. Ha, ha.
I changed the subject, didn't I?
What a disagreeable old man I have become.
You're a reporter and you want to know what I think about Charlie Kane.
I suppose he had 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.
Hmm? Heh. He had a generous mind.
I don't suppose anybody ever had so many opinions.
But he never believed in anything except Charlie Kane.
He never had a conviction except Charlie Kane in his life.
I suppose he died without one.
That must have been pretty unpleasant.
Of course, a lot of us check out without having any special convictions about death.
But we do know what we're leaving. We do believe in something.
Are you absolutely sure you haven't got a cigar?
Sorry, Mr. Leland. Never mind.
What do you know about Rosebud? "Rosebud"?
I saw that in the Inquirer.
I never believed anything I saw in the Inquirer.
I can tell you about Emily. I went to dancing school with Emily.
I was very graceful.
We were talking about the first Mrs. Kane. What was she like?
She was like all the girls I knew in dancing school.
Very nice girl. Emily was a little nicer.
After the first couple of months...
...she and Charlie didn't see much of each other except at breakfast.
It was a marriage just like any other marriage.
You're beautiful. I can't be.
Yes, you are. You're very beautiful.
I've never been to six parties in one night before.
I've never been up this late. It's a matter of habit.
What will the servants think? That we enjoyed ourselves.
Why do you have to go straight off to the newspaper?
You never should've married a newspaperman, they're worse than sailors.
I absolutely adore you.
Charles, even newspapermen have to sleep.
I'll call Mr. Bernstein and have him put off my appointments till noon.
What time is it?
I don't know. It's late.
Do you know how long you kept me waiting last night...
...when you went to the newspaper for 10 minutes?
What do you do in a newspaper in the middle of the night?
My dear, your only correspondent is the Inquirer.
Sometimes I think I'd prefer a rival of flesh and blood.
I don't spend that much time on the newspaper.
It isn't just the time. It's what you print, attacking the president.
You mean Uncle John. I mean the president of the United States.
He's still Uncle John and a well-meaning fathead...
...who's letting a pack of high-pressure crooks run his administration.
This whole oil scandal... He happens to be the president, not you.
That's a mistake that will be corrected one of these days.
Your Mr. Bernstein sent Junior the most incredible atrocity yesterday.
I simply can't have it in the nursery.
Mr. Bernstein is apt to pay a visit to the nursery now and then.
Does he have to?
Really, Charles, people will think... What I tell them to think.
Wasn't he ever in love with her?
He married for love.
That is 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 wanted out of life was love.
That's Charlie's story. How he lost it.
You see, he just didn't have any to give.
He loved Charlie Kane, of course.
And his mother, I guess he always loved her.
How about his second wife? Susan Alexander?
You know what Charlie called her?
The day after he'd met her, he told me about her.
He said she was "a cross-section of the American public."
I guess he couldn't help it. She must have had something for him.
That first night, according to Charlie...
...all she had was a toothache.
What are you laughing at, young lady?
What's the matter with you? Toothache.
You mean you've got a toothache.
What's funny about that? You're funny, mister.
You've got dirt on your face. Not dirt, it's mud.
Do you want some hot water? I live right here.
What's that, young lady?
I said, if you wanted some hot water...
...I could get you some...
All right, thank you very much.
Do I look any better now?
This medicine doesn't do a bit of good. What you need is to get your mind off it.
Excuse me, but my landlady prefers me to keep this door open...
...when I have a gentleman caller. All right.
Oh. You have got a toothache, haven't you?
I surely have. Why don't you try laughing at me again?
What? I'm still pretty funny.
I know, but you don't want me to laugh at you.
I don't want your tooth to hurt, either. Ooh.
Look at me.
See that? What are you doing?
I'm wiggling both my ears at the same time.
That's it, smile.
It took me two solid years at the best boys' school in the world to learn that.
The fellow who taught me is now president of Venezuela.
Is it a giraffe? No, not a giraffe.
I bet it is. What?
Well, then it's an elephant.
It's supposed to be a rooster. A rooster!
You know an awful lot of tricks. Are you a professional magician?
No, I'm not a magician. I was just joking.
You really don't know who I am?
You told me your name, Mr. Kane, but I'm awfully ignorant.
I guess you caught on to that. I bet I've heard your name a million times.
You really like me though, even though you don't know who I am?
I surely do. You've been wonderful.
Without you I don't know what I would have done.
I had a toothache, and I don't know many people.
I know too many people.
I guess we're both lonely.
Want to know what I was going to do before I ruined my best Sunday clothes?
I bet they're not your best Sunday clothes. You probably have more.
I was just joking.
I was on my way to the Western Manhattan Warehouse...
...in search of my youth.
You see, my mother died a long time ago. Her things were put in storage out West.
There wasn't any other place to put them.
I thought I'd send for them now. Tonight I was going to take a look at them.
A sort of sentimental journey.
I run a couple of newspapers. What do you do?
How old did you say you were? I didn't say.
If you had, I wouldn't have asked you.
How old? Pretty old.
How old? Twenty-two in August.
That's a ripe old age. What do you do?
I work at Seligman's. I'm in charge of the sheet music.
Is that what you want to do? No, I wanted to be a singer, I guess.
That is, I didn't. My mother did for me. What happened to the singing?
Mother always thought... She always talked about grand opera for me.
But my voice isn't that kind. It's just, you know what mothers are like.
Yes, I know.
Have you got a piano? A piano?
Mm-hm. Yes, there's one in the parlor.
Would you sing for me? You wouldn't want to hear me sing.
Yes, I would.
Don't tell me your toothache is bothering you.
No, that's all gone.
Let's go to the parlor.
Yes, Lindor shall be mine I have sworn it For weal or woe Yes, Lindor
There is only one man who can rid the politics...
...of this state of the evil domination of Boss Jim Gettys.
I am speaking of Charles Foster Kane, the fighting liberal...
...the friend of the workingman, the next governor of this state...
...who entered upon this campaign...
To point out and make public the dishonesty...
...the downright villainy of Boss Jim W. Gettys' political machine...
...now in complete control of the government of this state.
I made no campaign promises...
...because, until a few weeks ago, I had no hope of being elected.
Now, however, I have something more than a hope.
Jim Gettys has something less than a chance.
Every straw vote...
...every independent poll shows that I will be elected.
Now I can afford to make some promises.
The workingman and the slum child...
...know they can expect my best efforts in their interests.
The decent, ordinary citizens know that I'll do everything in my power...
...to protect the underprivileged, the underpaid, and the underfed.
Mother, is Pop governor yet? Not yet, Junior.
I'd make my promises now...
...if I weren't too busy arranging to keep them.
But here's one promise I'll make...
...and Boss Jim Gettys knows I'll keep it.
My first official act as governor of this state...
...will be to appoint a special district attorney to arrange for the indictment...
...prosecution and conviction of Boss Jim W. Gettys.
If the election were held today, you'd be in by 100,000 votes.
Gettys isn't even pretending. Pop.
Hello, son. He isn't just scared, he's sick.
It's beginning to dawn on Jim Gettys I mean what I say.
Did you like your old man's speech? I could hear every word.
Hello, Emily. Hold it.
Great speech, Mr. Kane. Wonderful.
Will you get us a taxi? A taxi? Why? I thought...
I'm sending Junior home in the car with Oliver.
Good night, Father.
Why did you send Junior home in the car? What are you doing in a taxi?
There's a call I want you to make with me.
It can wait. No, it can't.
What's this all about, Emily? It may not be about anything at all.
I intend to find out.
Where are you going? I'm going to "185 West 74th Street."
If you wish, you may come with me.
I'll come with you.
I had no idea you had this flair for melodrama, Emily.
Come right in, Mr. Kane.
He forced me to send your wife that letter. I didn't want to.
He's been saying the most terrible...
I don't suppose anybody would introduce us.
I'm Jim Gettys.
I made Miss Alexander send you the note, Mrs. Kane.
She didn't want to at first. But she did it.
Charlie, the things he said to me.
He threatened to... Gettys.
I won't wait until I'm elected. To start with, I think I'll break your neck.
Maybe you can do it, and maybe you can't.
Charles, your breaking this man's neck would scarcely explain this note:
"Serious consequences for Mr. Kane, for yourself and for your son."
He wanted to get her to come here... What does this note mean?
I'm Susan Alexander. I know what you think...
What does this note mean, Ms. Alexander? She don't know.
She sent it because I told her it wouldn't be smart not to.
Emily, this gentleman... I'm not a gentleman.
Your husband is only trying to be funny calling me one.
I don't even know what a gentleman is.
You see, my idea of a gentleman... Heh.
If I owned a paper and didn't like the way somebody was doing things...
...some politician, I'd fight him with all I had.
I wouldn't show him in a convict suit...
...so his children could see his picture in the paper.
You're a cheap, crooked grafter... We're talking now about what you are.
I'm fighting for my life, not just my political life.
He said unless you... That's what I said.
Here's the chance I'm willing to give him. It's more of a chance than he'd give me.
Unless he decides by tomorrow that he's so sick he has to go away for a year...
...Monday morning, all papers in the state, except his, will carry the story I'll give.
The story about him and Ms. Alexander. There isn't any story!
We've got evidence that would look bad in the headlines.
Do you want me to give you the evidence?
I'd rather he withdrew without having the story published.
Not that I care about him, but I'd be better off that way.
So would you, Mrs. Kane.
What about me?
He said my name would be dragged through the mud. That everywhere I went...
There seems to be only one decision you can make, Charles.
I'd say that it'd been made for you.
You can't tell me the voters of this state...
I'm not interested in the voters of this state right now.
I am interested in our son.
Charlie, if they publish this story... They won't.
Good night, Mr. Gettys.
Are you coming, Charles?
I'm staying here.
I can fight this all alone.
If you don't listen to reason, it may be too late.
For you and this public thief...
...to take the love of the people away from me?
You got other things to think about. Your little boy.
You don't want him to read about you in the papers.
There's only one person in the world to decide what I'll do. And that's me.
You decided what you were going to do, Charles, some time ago.
You're making a bigger fool of yourself than I thought.
I've got nothing to say to you. You're licked...
Get out. If you want to see me, have the warden write me a letter.
If it was anybody else, I'd say what's going to happen to you would be a lesson to you.
Only you're going to need more than one lesson.
And you'll get more than one lesson. Don't worry about me, Gettys.
Don't worry about me!
I'm Charles Foster Kane!
I'm no cheap, crooked politician trying to save himself...
...from the consequences of his crimes!
Gettys! I'm gonna send you to Sing Sing.
Sing Sing, Gettys. Sing Sing!
Have you a car, Mrs. Kane? Yes, thank you.
Good night. Good night.
Paper. Read all about it. Extra, extra.
Paper? No, thanks.
With a million majority already against him...
...and the church counties still to be heard from...
...I'm afraid we got no choice.
Good night again.
Is there anything I can...? No, thanks, Mr. Bernstein.
You better go home and get some sleep.
Good night, Mr. Kane.
Hello, Jedediah. I'm drunk.
If you've got drunk to talk to me about...
...Ms. Alexander, don't bother.
I'm not interested.
I've set back the sacred cause of reform, is that it?
If that's the way they want it, the people have made their choice.
It's obvious the people prefer Jim Gettys to me.
You talk about the people as though you owned them.
As though they belong to you. Goodness.
As long as I can remember, you've talked about giving the people their rights...
...as if you could make them a present of liberty...
...as a reward for services rendered.
Jed. You remember the workingman?
I'll get drunk too, Jedediah...
...if it'll do any good.
It won't do any good. Besides you never get drunk.
You used to write an awful lot about the workingman...
Go on home.
He's turning into something called "organized labor."
You won't like that one little bit when you find out...
...it means your workingman expects something as his right, and not your gift.
When your precious underprivileged really get together...
That'll add up to something bigger than your privilege...
...then I don't know what you'll do.
Sail away to a desert island probably and lord it over the monkeys.
I wouldn't worry about it too much.
There'll probably be a few of them there to tell me when I do something wrong.
You may not always be so lucky.
You're not very drunk.
Drunk, what do you care?
You don't care about anything except you.
You persuade people that you love them so much that they ought to love you back.
Only you want love on your own terms.
It's something to be played your way, according to your rules.
Let me work on the Chicago paper. What?
You said you were looking for someone to do dramatic "crimitism," criticism.
I am drunk.
I want to go to Chicago.
You're too valuable here.
There's nothing left for me to do... All right, you can go to Chicago.
I guess I'd better try to get drunk anyway.
I warn you, Jedediah, you won't like Chicago.
The wind comes off the lake, and they've probably never heard of Lobster Newburg.
Will Saturday after next be all right?
Anytime you say. Thank you.
A toast to love on my terms. Those are the only terms anybody knows:
Mr. Kane, I'm from the Inquirer.
What's that, young man? Are you through with politics?
Am I through with politics? I should say vice versa.
We're going to be an opera star.
Are you singing at the Metropolitan?
We certainly are.
Charlie said if I didn't, he'd build me an opera house.
That won't be necessary.
No, no, no!
Mr. Leland is writing it from the dramatic angle?
We've covered it from the news end. And the social.
How about the music notice?
Yes, it's already made up.
Mr. Mowan wrote a swell review.
Enthusiastic? Yes, sir.
Naturally. Mr. Bernstein.
Mr. Kane. Mr. Kane. This is a surprise.
We've got two spreads of pictures.
The music notice on the front page?
But there's still one notice to come. The dramatic.
The dramatic notice.
Mr. Bernstein, that's Mr. Leland, isn't it? Yes, we're waiting for it.
Where is he? Right in there, Mr. Kane.
Mr. Leland and Mr. Kane...
...haven't spoken together for years.
You don't suppose... There's nothing to suppose.
Close the door.
He ain't been drinking before.
Never. We would have heard.
What does it say there?
The notice, what's he written?
"Miss Susan Alexander, a pretty but hopelessly incompetent amateur..."
...last night opened the new Chicago Opera House...
"...in a performance of..."
I still can't pronounce that name.
"Her singing, happily, is no concern of this department.
Of her acting, it is absolutely impossible to..."
Go on. That's all there is.
"Of her acting it is absolutely impossible to say anything except...
...that, in the opinion of this reviewer, it represents a new low."
In the opinion of this reviewer. I didn't see that.
It isn't here, Mr. Bernstein, I'm dictating it.
Mr. Kane, I... Get me a typewriter.
I'm going to finish Mr. Leland's notice.
Hello. Hello, Mr. Leland.
Where's my notice, Bernstein? I've got to finish my notice.
Mr. Kane is finishing it for you. Charlie?
Charlie out there?
I guess he's fixing it up.
I knew I'd never get that through.
Mr. Kane's finishing your review just the way you started it.
He's writing a bad notice like you wanted it to be.
I guess that'll show you.
I didn't know we were speaking.
Sure we're speaking, Jedediah.
Everybody knows that story, Mr. Leland, but why did he do it?
How could a man write a notice... You just don't know Charlie.
He thought that by finishing that notice he'd show me he was an honest man.
He was always trying to prove something.
That whole thing about Susie being an opera singer.
That was trying to prove something.
You know what the headline was the day before the election?
"Candidate Kane found in love nest with 'singer."'
He was going to take the quotes off the singer.
Five years ago he wrote from that place down there in the South.
What's it called, Shangri-la? El Dorado? Sloppy Joe's? What's the name?
All right, Xanadu, I knew it all the time.
You caught on, didn't you? I'm not that hard to see through.
Well, I never even answered his letter.
Maybe I should have.
I guess he was pretty lonely down there in that coliseum all those years.
He hadn't finished it when she left him. He never finished it.
He never finished anything except my notice.
Of course, he built the joint for her. That must have been love.
I don't know.
He was disappointed in the world so he built his own, an absolute monarchy.
It was something bigger than an opera house anyway.
Nurse. Yes, Mr. Leland.
There's one thing you can do for me. Sure.
Stop at the cigar store on your way out, and get me a couple of good cigars.
Be glad to. Thank you.
One is enough.
When I was a young man, there was an impression that nurses were pretty.
Well, it was no truer then than it is today.
I'll take your arm. All right.
You won't forget about those cigars? I won't.
Have them wrapped like toothpaste, or they'll stop them at the desk.
You know that young doctor I was telling you about, well...
...he's got an idea he wants to keep me alive.
I'd rather you'd just talk. Anything that comes into your mind...
...about yourself and Mr. Kane.
You don't want to hear what comes into my mind about myself and Charlie Kane.
You know, maybe I shouldn't have sung for Charlie that first time I met him.
But I did an awful lot of singing after that.
I sang for teachers at $100 an hour.
The teachers got that, I didn't. What did you get?
I didn't get a thing, except music lessons. That's all there was in it.
He married you, didn't he?
He didn't mention anything about marriage until after it was over and...
...until it got in the papers about us...
...and he lost the election, and that Norton woman divorced him.
He was really interested in my voice.
Why did he build that opera house?
I didn't want it. I didn't want a thing. It was his idea.
Everything was his idea...
...except my leaving him.
Ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta.
Don't get nervous.
Please. Let's come back.
Look at me, Mrs. Kane, darling.
Get the voice out of the throat
Place the tone right in the mask
You're out of pitch.
Some people can sing. Some can't.
It's not your job to give your opinion of Mrs. Kane's talents.
You're supposed to train her voice, Signor Matiste. Nothing more.
Please continue with the lesson.
But, Mr. Kane. Please.
I'll be the laughingstock of the musical world. People will think...
You're concerned what people will think?
Perhaps I can enlighten you a bit. I'm an authority on what people will think.
Heh. The newspapers for example.
I run several newspapers between here and San Francisco.
It's all right, darling.
Signor Matiste is going to listen to reason.
How can I persuade you... You can't.
It's all right, darling, go ahead.
I thought you'd see it my way.
No, no, no.
Places! Places, everybody!
I think it's dreadful.
Stop telling me he's your friend. A friend don't write that kind of review.
All these other papers panning me, I could expect that.
But for the Inquirerto run a thing like that, spoiling my whole debut.
Come in. I'll get it.
Friend. Not the kind of friends I know...
...but I'm not high class like you.
And I never went to any swell schools.
That'll be enough, Susan.
From Mr. Leland, sir. Jed Leland?
He wanted me to make sure you got this personally.
Is that something from him?
As for you, you ought to have your head examined.
Sending him a letter telling him he's fired...
...with a $25,000 check in it.
What kind of firing do you call that?
You did send him a check for $25,000, didn't you?
I sent him a check for $25,000.
Declaration of Principles.
What? What is it? Hmm?
An antique. You're awful funny, aren't you?
I'll tell you one thing you're not going to be funny about, and that's my singing.
I'm through. I never wanted to do it in the first place.
You'll continue with your singing, Susan.
I don't propose to have myself made ridiculous.
You don't propose to have yourself made ridiculous!
What about me? I'm the one that has to sing.
I'm the one that gets the raspberries. Why don't you leave me alone?
My reasons satisfy me, Susan.
You seem unable to understand them.
I will not tell them to you again.
You'll continue with your singing.
Get Dr. Corey.
She'll be perfectly all right in a day or two, Mr. Kane.
I can't imagine how Mrs. Kane came to make such a foolish mistake.
The sedative Dr. Wagner gave her was in a somewhat larger bottle.
The strain of preparing for the new opera has excited and confused her.
Yes, I'm sure that was it.
No objections to my staying with her, are there?
No, not at all. I'd like the nurse to be here too.
Good night, Mr. Kane.
I couldn't make you see how I felt, Charlie.
But I couldn't go through with the singing again.
You don't know what it means to know that people are...
That the whole audience doesn't want you.
That's when you got to fight them.
You won't have to fight them anymore.
It's their loss.
What are you doing?
Charlie, what time is it?
11:30. In New York?
Hmm? I said what time is it in New York?
The Bulldog's just gone to press.
Well, hurray for the Bulldog.
Gee, 11:30. Shows are just getting out.
People are going to nightclubs and restaurants.
Of course, we're different because we live in a palace.
You always said you wanted to live in a palace.
A person could go crazy in this dump.
Nobody to talk to, nobody to have any fun with.
49,000 acres of nothing but scenery and statues.
Until yesterday, we've had no less than 50 of your friends at any one time.
I think if you look in the west wing...
...you'll find about a dozen vacationists still in residence.
You make a joke out of everything.
Charlie, I want to go to New York. I'm tired of being a hostess.
I want to have fun. Please, Charlie.
Our home is here, Susan.
I don't care to visit New York.
What are you doing?
Oh. One thing I can never understand:
How do you know you haven't done it before?
It makes a whole lot more sense than collecting statues.
You may be right.
I sometimes wonder...
...but you get into the habit.
It's not a habit, I do it because I like it.
I thought we might have a picnic tomorrow.
I thought we might have a picnic tomorrow.
Invite everybody to spend the night at the Everglades.
Invite everybody. Order everybody, you mean, and make them sleep in tents.
Who wants to sleep in tents when they've got their own room...
...with a bath, where they know where everything is?
I thought we might have a picnic tomorrow.
You never give me anything I really care about.
It can't be love For there is no true love I know I've played at the game Like a moth in a blue flame Lost in the end Just the same All these years My heart's been floating around In a puddle of tears Mm I wonder what it is Sure, you give me things, but that don't mean anything to you.
You're in a tent, darling, you aren't at home.
I can hear you very well if you speak in a normal tone of voice.
What's the difference between giving me a bracelet or giving someone $100,000...
...for a statue you'll keep crated up and never look at?
It's just money. It doesn't mean anything.
You never really gave me anything that you care about.
I want you to stop this. I'm not going to stop it.
Right now. You never gave me anything in your life.
You just tried to buy me into giving you something.
It can't be love It can't be love For there is no true love
Whatever I do, I do because I love you.
You don't love me.
You want me to love you.
Sure. "I'm Charles Foster Kane.
Whatever you want, just name it and it's yours.
"But you gotta love me."
Don't tell me you're sorry.
I'm not sorry.
Mrs. Kane would like to see you, sir.
Marie has been packing her since morning.
Tell Arnold I'm ready, Marie. Tell him he can get the bags.
Have you gone completely crazy?
Don't you know that our guests, that everyone will know about this?
Packed your bag, sent for the car...
And left you? Of course they'll hear.
I'm not saying goodbye, except to you.
But I never imagined people wouldn't know.
I won't let you go.
Please don't go.
From now on, everything will be exactly the way you want it to be.
Not the way I think you want it...
...but your way.
You mustn't go.
You can't do this to me.
It's you that this is being done to.
It's not me at all.
Not what it means to me.
I can't do this to you?
Oh, yes, I can.
In case you haven't heard, I lost all my money and it was plenty.
The last 10 years have been difficult for many.
They haven't been tough on me. I just lost all my money.
You're going down to Xanadu? Monday, with boys from the office.
Mr. Rawlston wants the whole place photographed.
We run a picture magazine.
If you're smart, you'll get in touch with Raymond. He's the butler.
You'll learn a lot from him.
He knows where all the bodies are buried.
You know, all the same, I feel kind of sorry for Mr. Kane.
Don't you think I do?
What do you know, it's morning already.
Come around and tell me the story of your life sometime.
I'll tell you about Rosebud.
How much is it worth to you?
A thousand dollars?
Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Thompson.
He acted funny sometimes, you know? No, I didn't.
Yes, he did crazy things sometimes.
I've been working for him 11 years now...
...in charge of the whole place, so I ought to know.
Like I tell you, the old man acted kind of funny sometimes...
...but I knew how to handle him... Need a lot of service?
Yeah. But I knew how to handle him.
Like that time his wife left.
And that's what you know about Rosebud? Yeah.
I heard him say it that other time too.
He just said:
Then he dropped the glass ball and it broke on the floor.
He didn't say anything after that, and I knew he was dead.
He said all kinds of things that didn't mean anything.
Sentimental fellow, aren't you? Hmm...
Yes and no. That isn't worth $1000.
You can keep on asking questions if you want to.
We're leaving tonight...
...when we're through taking pictures.
Allow yourself plenty of time.
The train stops at the junction on signal, but they don't like to wait.
I can remember when they'd wait all day...
...if Mr. Kane said so.
Better get going.
Take a picture of that.
Can we come down? Yes, hurry up. We're leaving.
How much do you think all this is worth, Mr. Thompson?
If anybody wants it.
Well, at least he brought all this stuff to America.
What's that? Another Venus.
A lot of money to pay for a dame without a head.
The banks are out of luck? Oh, I don't know.
They'll clear all right. He never threw anything away.
"Welcome home, Mr. Kane, from 467 employees of the New York Inquirer."
"One stove from the estate of Mary Kane, $2."
We're supposed to get everything, junk as well as art.
He sure liked to collect things.
Anything and everything.
A regular crow, eh?
Hey, look, a jigsaw puzzle. We got a lot of those.
A Burmese temple and three Spanish ceilings down the hall.
Part of a Scotch castle...
...that needs to be unwrapped.
Put all this stuff together:
The palaces and the paintings, and the toys and everything.
What would it spell?
Charles Foster Kane? Or Rosebud.
How about it, Jerry? What's Rosebud?
That's what he said when he died.
Did you ever find out what it means?
No, I didn't. What did you find out about him?
Not much, really.
We'd better get started.
What have you been doing all this time?
Playing with a jigsaw puzzle.
If you'd discovered what Rosebud meant, I bet it would've explained everything.
No, I don't think so.
He was a man who got everything he wanted, and then lost it.
Maybe Rosebud was something he couldn't get or something he lost.
It wouldn't have explained anything.
I don't think any word can explain a man's life.
No. I guess Rosebud is just a piece in a jigsaw puzzle.
A missing piece.
...come on, everybody...
...we'll miss the train.
Throw that junk in.
Maybe I was what you nowadays call a stooge. Huh?
Everything was his idea...
...except my leaving him.
I've got his trunk all packed.
I've had it packed for a week now.
Sometimes I think I'd prefer a rival of flesh and blood.
You're gonna need more than one lesson.
And you'll get more than one lesson.
Who's a busy man, me?
I'm chairman of the board. I got nothing but time.
What do you want to know?
We thought, if we could find out what he meant by his last words as he was dying...
Sentimental fellow, aren't you? Hmm...
Yes and no.
"I think it would be fun to run a newspaper."
I think it would be fun