The Hudsucker Proxy

That's right.

New York.

It's 1958.

Anyway, for a few more minutes it is.

Come midnight, it's gonna be 1959.

A whole other feeling. The new year.

The future.

Yeah, Old Daddy Earth fixing to start one more trip around the sun.

Everybody hoping this ride round be a little more giddy...

a little more gay.

Yup, all over town, champagne corks is a-popping.

Over in the Waldorf, the big shots is dancing to the strains of Guy Lombardo.

In Times Square, the little folks is watching and waiting for that big ball to drop.

They're all trying to catch hold of one moment of time...

to be able to say, "Right now! This is it! I got it!"

Of course, by then it'll be past.

But they're all happy, everybody having a good time.

Well, almost everybody.

There's a few lost souls floating around out there.

Now, if you all ain't from the city...

we got something here called "the rat race."

Got a way of chewing folks up so that they don't want no celebrating...

don't want no cheering up.

Don't care nothing about no New Year's.

Out of hope, out of rope, out of time.

This here is Norville Barnes.

That office he's stepping out of...

is the oddice of the president of Hudsucker Industries.

That's his office.

How'd he get so high?

And why's he feeling so low?

Is he really going to do it?

Is Norville really gonna jelly up the sidewalk?

Well, the future, that's something you can never tell about.

But the past...

that's another story.

In the third quarter we saw no signs of weakening.

We're up 18 percent over last year's third-quarter gross...

and that, needless to say, is a new record.

Our competition continues to flag and we continue to take up the slack.

Market shares in most divisions is increasing...

and we have opened seven new regional offices.

Our international division...

is also showing vigorous signs of upward movement for the last six months...

and we're looking at some exciting things in R&D.

Sub-franchising. Don't talk to me about sub-franchising.

We're making so much money in sub-franchising...

it isn't even funny.

Our nominees and assigns continue to multiply and expand...

extending our influence nationally and abroad.

Our owned and operateds are performing...

far beyond our expectations both here and abroad.

And the Federal Tax Act of 1958...

is giving us a swell write-off on our plant and heavies.

And our last debenture issue was this year's fastest seller.

So third quarter and year-to-date...

we have set a new record in sales, a new record in gross...

a new record in pre-tax earnings...

a new record in after-tax profits...

and our stock has split twice in the past year.

In short...

we're loaded.

Mr. Hudsucker?

It's a pity to waste a whole Montecristo.

He could've opened the window.

Waring Hudsucker never did anything the easy way.

Why? Why did he do it? Everything was going so well.

What, am I a headshrinker? Maybe the man was unhappy.

He didn't look unhappy.

- He didn't look rich. - He was never an easy man to figure out.

He built this company with his bare hands.

Every step he took was a step up...

except, of course, this last one.

Sure, sure he was a swell fella...

but when the president, chairman of the board...

and owner of 87 percent of the company stock drops...

- 44 floors... - Forty-five.

Counting the mezzanine.

Then the company, too, has a problem. Stillson!

What exactly is the disposition of Waring's stock?

Well, as you know...

Hud left no will and no family.

The company bylaws are quite clear in that event.

"His entire portfolio will be converted into common stock..."

and will be sold over the counter as of the first of the fiscal year...

- "following his demise." - Meaning?

Meaning simply that Waring's stock and control of the company...

will be made available to the public January 1st.

Do you mean to say...

that any slob in a smelly T-shirt will be able to buy Hudsucker stock?

The company bylaws are quite clear.

My God! You're animals!

How can you discuss his stock when the man has just leapt 45 floors?

- Forty four. - Not counting the mezzanine.

Quit showboating, Addison. The man is gone.

The question now is whether we'll let John Q. Public waltz in here...

- and buy our company. - What are you suggesting, Sydney?

Certainly we can't afford to buy a controlling interest.

Not while the stock is this strong.

How soon before Hud's paper hits the market?

- January 1st. - Thirty days.

- Four weeks. - A month at the most.

One month to make the blue-chip investment of the century...

look like a round-trip ticket on the Titanic.

We play up the fact that Hud is dead.

Long live the Hud!

- We depress the stock. - To the point where we can buy 50 percent.

- Fifty one. - Not counting the mezzanine.

- It could work. - It should work.

- It would work. - It's working already.

Waring Hudsucker is abstract art on Madison Avenue.

What we need now is a new president who will inspire panic in the stockholder.

- A puppet. - A proxy.

A pawn.

Sure, sure, some jerk...

we can really push around.

You punch in at 8:30 every morning, at 7:30 following a business holiday...

unless it's a Monday, then you punch in 8:00.

- Punch in late and they dock you. - This goes to seven! Urgent.

Incoming articles get a voucher. Outgoing articles provide a voucher.

Move any article without a voucher and they dock you!

Take this up to the secretarial pool on three! ASAP!

Letter-size, a green voucher! Folder-size, a yellow voucher!

- Parcel-size, a maroon voucher! - This is for Morgatross! Chop-chop!

Wrong color voucher and they dock you!

6-7-8-7-0-4-9-Alpha-6!

That is your employee number! It will not be repeated!

Without your employee number you cannot get your paycheck.

All right, this goes up to 27!

Return a waiver! Do not return without a signed waiver!

Inter-office mail is code 37! Intra-office mail is 37-3.

Outside mail is 3-37.

Code it wrong and they dock you!

I was supposed to have this on 2810 minutes ago!

This has been your orientation.

Is there anything you do not understand or understand partially?

If you have not been fully orientated, you must file a complaint with Personnel!

File a faulty complaint and they dock you!

Kloppitt. Kloppitt, Kloppitt...

Max Kloppitt.

"Max Kloppitt, Jr."

What do you do when the envelope is too big for the slot?

Well, if you fold them, they fire you.

I usually throw them out.

Just got hired today.

- Terrific. - You know, entry level.

Tell me about it.

But I got big ideas.

I'm sure you do.

For instance, take a look at this sweet baby.

I developed it myself.

Yes, sirree, this is my ticket upstairs.

You know, for kids.

Terrific.

So you see, I won't be working in the mail room long.

No, I don't guess you will be.

- How long you been here? - Forty-eight years.

Next year they move me up to parcels if I'm lucky.

Attention Hudsucker employees!

Attention Hudsucker employees!

We regretfully announce that at 30 seconds after the hour of noon...

Hudsucker time...

Waring Hudsucker, founder, president...

and chairman of the board of Hudsucker Industries...

merged with the infinite.

To mark this occasion of corporate loss...

we ask that all employees observe a moment of silent contemplation.

Thank you for your kind attention.

This moment has been duly noted on your timecards...

and will be deducted from your pay. That is all.

- Blue letter! - Blue letter!

They're bringing down a blue letter!

It's a blue letter.

Top, top level.

Confidential communication between the brass.

Usually bad news.

They hate blue letters upstairs.

- Hate them. - You!

Yeah, you! Barnes! You don't look busy!

Think you can handle a blue letter?

This letter was sent this morning by the big man himself...

that's right, Waring Hudsucker!

It's addressed to Sid Mussburger, Hudsucker's right-hand man!

It's a blue letter!

That means you got to put it right in Mussburger's hands.

No secretaries! No receptionists!

No colleagues! No excuses!

Mussburger!

Hi, my name's Buzz, I got the fuzz, I make the elevator do what she does.

Hang it up to dry. What's your pleasure, buddy?

- Forty-four. - Forty-four, the top-brass floor.

Say, buddy, what takes 50 years to get to the top floor...

and 30 seconds to get down?

Waring Hudsucker! You get it, buddy?

Say, buddy! Mr. Kline, up to nine. Mrs. Dell, Personnel.

- Mr. Levin, 37. - Thirty-six.

Walk down! Ladies and gentlemen, please step to the rear.

- Here comes the gargantuan Mr. Grier. - Buzz.

Say, buddy, who's the most liquid businessman on the street?

Waring Hudsucker. Say, buddy.