Act I
The scene is one of those Riverside Drive apartments, in a place called New York City. It is up in the neighborhood of One Hundred and Sixteenth Street, and once it was pretty good. It’s a bit run down now, and since people began moving to the East Side the neighborhood has become somewhat déclassé—not more so, however, than Paul Sears, the tenant of this particular apartment.
We see the living-room, if you can call it living. There is a piano, because Paul Sears is a composer. The rest of the furniture is what you might imagine, or worse.
Paul, a commonplace-looking man in his middle thirties, is at the piano when the curtain rises. He is in his shirt sleeves and is alternately hitting a few discouraged keys and making probably meaningless notations on the music sheet in front of him. He lacks one finger of being a two-fingered piano player. He is laboriously going over the same phrase again and again. And if you had never even heard it once, it would be too often.
Lucille, his wife, comes on from the rear rooms of the apartment. A spare but still attractive woman, on whom three years of marriage with Paul Sears have left their mark. She looks around for something. Finds it. It turns out to be a copy of the Graphic. She drops listlessly into a chair and starts to read. Paul continues torturing the piano.
| Lucille | Addressing herself more than Paul, as she scans her paper. What do you know about that! Myra Vale’s engaged! |
| Paul | I read it. Automobile man. Probably drives a truck. |
| Lucille | If he does, at least she’ll have something to go places in. |
| Paul | I got Myra her first job; I introduced her to Dillingham. |
| Lucille | Yes, you did! She was in Nanette with Eileen and me before you ever saw her. |
| Paul | Belligerently. Who says so? |
| Lucille | Ask the doorman down at the Globe. He used to have to carry her in. |
| Paul | She never took a drink when I knew her. |
| Lucille | I can vouch for that. |
| Paul | Jumping up from the piano. This is the last time I’ll work with Fagan! I rewrite two whole bars of the melody for him, and when I ask him to change one word of his lyric, he squawks. He’s got it “as a rose in June,” and I want him to make it “as roses in June.” Listen—here’s his way he plays and sings: “As a rose in June.” And here’s the way I want it: “As roses in June.” All the difference in the world. |
| Lucille | Wearily. It sounds just the same to me. |
| Paul | My way gives me a triplet and makes it twice as effective! Listen! Starts hitting the same old notes. |
| Lucille | Oh, isn’t that enough? Paul stops. Must I sit around all night listening to that? |
| Paul | Why don’t you go out? You could go out if you want to. |
| Lucille | Who with? |
| Paul | You could go out with Eileen. You and her could go somewhere. |
| Lucille | You know she’s got a date with Hart. I suppose you want me trailing along. |
| Paul | Well, I explained to you I can’t go no place, with this fella coming up. I told you a dozen times. |
| Lucille | I don’t expect you to take me anywhere, except maybe for a walk around the block. That’s free. |
| Paul | I don’t enjoy laying around here no more than you do. I’m not a nun. |
| Lucille | That’s the first I’ve heard about it. |
| Paul | You wait till this number gets over. We’ll go everywhere then. |
| Lucille | Tiredly. Oh, sure! |
| Paul | You haven’t heard it played yet. It’ll be another “Paprika.” Did I tell you what Dave Stamper said about it? |
| Lucille | Quickly. Yes! |
| Paul | Just as though she’d said “No.” He said it was another “Paprika.” You wait till you hear it played. Dave Stamper says it’s sure fire. Back to his “playing” again. |
| Lucille | The silliest thing in the world to me is a man trying to be a composer when he can’t even play “Chopsticks.” |
| Paul | I can play as good as I need to. I can play as good as Berlin, and he’s turned out twice as many hits as anybody. |
| Lucille | He knows what people want. He appeals to the women. |
| Paul | It ruins a composer to play the piano too good. They depend on fancy harmony and tempo, instead of pretty melodies. |
| Lucille | Giving up. All right. |
| Paul | His eye drawn to the newspaper. Did you read that thing from that Boston paper about Pretty Polly? They say Gershwin hasn’t given them one tune. He’s pretty pleased about it, too. Ten years from now, nobody’ll know there was a Gershwin. He won’t live. |
| Lucille | At least he won’t starve to death. |
| Paul | It was me that was responsible for Gershwin getting his start. I brought him and Georgie White together. |
| Lucille | Simply not listening. Why can’t you see this man in the daytime instead of asking him up here? |
| Paul | Because I don’t want him to come in the office yet, that’s why. I’m keeping him under cover till I get rid of Fagan. |
| Lucille | If there’s one thing that’ll round out my day, it’s entertaining a lyric-writer. |
| Paul | This fella ain’t like the rest of them. He’s got a fresh slant. Take fellas like Fagan, that’s been around Broadway all their life, and all their lyrics sound just alike. If Fagan gave me a new idea, I’d drop dead. But this fella’s got a fresh slant. |
| Lucille | Fagan would drop even deader if you gave him a new tune. |
| Paul | I gave him “Paprika,” didn’t I? |
| Lucille | That’s so long ago I don’t see how you remember it. |
| Paul | Old man Goebel remembers it, and so does Hart. They made enough money out of it. |
| Lucille | The eternal wife. Everybody makes money but you. |
| Paul | Yes, they do! There’s plenty fellas around the club that’s just as flat as I am. |
| Lucille | Ever so brightly. That makes everything all right. |
| Paul | I’ll tell you who’s got money, if you want to know, and that’s Stevens. |
| Lucille | Who? |
| Paul | This lyric-writer, Stevens. He’s got money. |
| Lucille | A lot of good that’ll do me. |
| Paul | He’s a nice kid, too. His eye falls on his watch. If Eileen’s got a date with Hart, why don’t she keep it? It’s half past eight. |
| Lucille | Don’t you worry about that. |
| Paul | What about him and her, anyway? If she’s engaged to him, aren’t they ever going to get married? |
| Lucille | You’ll know as soon as there’s anything to know. |
| Paul | He’ll wriggle off the hook some way. If you ask me he’s getting tired of her already. |
| Lucille | With sudden interest. What makes you think so? |
| Paul | Just the luck I’m running in. If I ever marry again, it’ll be a woman without a sister. |
| Lucille | She don’t cost you much, and she’s company for me. |
| Paul | What’s the matter with her getting a job somewheres? The telephone rings. |
| Lucille | Yeah. You ought to be able to place her, with your influence. |
| Paul |
At the telephone. Hello. … Oh, hello, Maxie! There enters, from the rear rooms, Eileen. She has been drawn by the ring of the telephone, and comes on eagerly, expectantly. She is a young woman in her late twenties, and has plenty of good old-fashioned sex appeal. But with it she is a bit hard, a trifle worldly. She wears a good-looking and rather revealing negligee, and is carrying what seems to be an evening dress, on which she has been sewing, or trying to sew. She stops short as she senses that the phone call is not for her; relaxes. From her mouth comes a cloud of cigarette smoke. Paul, of course, has kept right on with his phone conversation. Sure—going to be here all evening. … All right. … Fine! He hangs up; turns to Lucille. Maxie’s coming over. Wait till you hear him play it—a gesture toward his music—then you’ll see! |
| Eileen | Drifting over to Lucille. What time is it? |
| Paul | Going right on. It’s going to be another “Paprika.” |
| Lucille | Reaching for the dress that Eileen has brought along. Want me to do that? |
| Eileen | I’ll go crazy, waiting around here! |
| Paul | You can’t stop him. If I team up with this new fella you’ll hear some hits. |
| Lucille | Handing over the paper to Eileen. Did you see this? Myra Vale’s announced her engagement. |
| Eileen | Who to, for God’s sake? |
| Lucille | Nobody we know. |
| Eileen | Reading. No. And nobody that knows her, you can bet on that. |
| Lucille | Paul was trying to tell me he got her her first job; introduced her to Dillingham. |
| Eileen | Oh, sure. He introduced Rogers to Peet, didn’t he? |
| Lucille | Indicating the dress. This isn’t going to last much longer. |
| Eileen | I know it. |
| Lucille | Why don’t you look around Monday? See what you can find. Maybe I will. I’m lazy, I guess. |
| Eileen | I’ve just been putting it off. |
| Lucille | I’d never be too lazy to shop, if I had anything to shop with. |
| Paul | You wait till this number gets over. |
| Lucille | Quite pleasantly. By that time I’ll only want a shawl. |
| Paul | Finally flaring up. There’s nothing helps a man like being married to a woman that always encourages you and looks on the bright side. I’m going to write an article for the American Magazine, saying I attribute my success to my wife. |
| Eileen | Why don’t you try writing articles? They might be pretty near as good as your tunes. |
| Paul | You don’t have to worry about my tunes. Anyhow, I was talking to Lucille. |
| Eileen | It’s time you did something more for Lucille besides talk to her! |
| Paul | If I was in your place, I’d keep pretty still in this house. That is, unless I was paying board. |
| Eileen | It’s a good battle, by this time. Don’t you dare say I’m dependent on you, because I’m not! |
| Paul | Only for your meals and a place to sleep! |
| Eileen | You wouldn’t even have a job if it wasn’t for me! Do you think Hart is keeping you on the staff because you wrote a hit three years ago? |
| Lucille | Now! |
| Eileen | Well, make him lay off me, if he knows what’s good for him. If he keeps riding me, he’ll be looking for a new job! |
| Paul | Swell chance of them letting me out when I’ve got a number like “Montana.” I’d run right to Harms with it. |
| Eileen | Harms wouldn’t let you in their elevator! |
| Paul | As he goes proudly into the next room. I was in it this afternoon! |
| Eileen | A long, long sigh. Is Hart going to phone or isn’t he? It gets me crazy, this waiting. |
| Lucille | I wouldn’t mind waiting if there was something to wait for. I nearly go out of my mind, just sitting. You hear women brag about the nice, cozy evenings they spend at home with their husband. They’re not married to a piano tuner with ten thumbs. |
| Eileen | Hoping against hope. Maybe he didn’t get back from Philadelphia. He might still be over there. |
| Lucille | What time was he going to call up? |
| Eileen | Six o’clock. He said he’d call me the minute he got in. Maybe the train was late. |
| Lucille | They aren’t late very often, from Philadelphia. |
| Eileen | It’s the only evening we’ll have for three weeks, with him going away again tomorrow. Restlessly pacing. If he was going to be late you’d think he’d try to reach me. |
| Lucille | Of course, you know him better than I do, but when a man’s really crazy about a girl, he calls her up, I don’t care what he’s doing. It’s only when he begins cooling off that he finds excuses, like being in Philadelphia. |
| Eileen | But he was in Philadelphia. |
| Lucille | I know, but they’ve got phones there now, too. |
| Eileen | If you think he’s cooling off you’re crazy! He’s insanely jealous. When I told him I was thinking of going out with Bert Livingston he was sore as hell. He said, “All right, go ahead and go out with him.” I asked him if he meant it, and he said, “Sure! Go out with the whole Lambs Club!” He’s insanely jealous and tries to hide it. |
| Lucille | I’d go out with the janitor if he asked me. God, I’m sick of this place! |
| Eileen | Why don’t you go to a picture? |
| Lucille | They charge admission. A little sardonic laugh. Remember the way I used to figure when Paul first came along? I thought marrying a songwriter meant going to all the first nights, meeting everybody that was worthwhile, going down to Palm Beach— |
| Eileen | You would, too, if Paul was any good. |
| Lucille | I wonder what it’d be like if we’d stayed in Stroudsburg. I’d probably be married to Will Broderick, and we’d have a car— |
| Eileen | To drive over to Scranton in. |
| Lucille | A sigh. I suppose I ought to get consolation out of one thing. I never expect a phone call or a mash note or an invitation or even a half pound box of candy. Whatever happens is velvet. |
| Eileen | You’re a fool if you keep it up. You ought to break away while there’s still time. |
| Lucille | That’s an easy thing to say. I haven’t got any grounds, in the first place. |
| Eileen | You wouldn’t need grounds. Just get him up in court and let the judge look at him. |
| Lucille | And even if I did get free, where am I? I’m not young any more. No man under sixty would look at me. |
| Eileen | Well, men over sixty are more liable to have money than boy scouts. |
| Lucille | I don’t like old men. |
| Eileen | Who does? Just the same, they’ve got their good points. They sleep eighteen hours a day. And they’re like little kids-they believe everything you tell them. |
| Lucille | I never could fool anybody. That’s why I’ve been afraid to try anything, with Paul. He knows when I’m lying to him, every time. |
| Eileen | Him! He isn’t even listening to you! You could have callers right in this room and he wouldn’t hear them come in—not with all those God-given melodies ringing in his ears. |
| Lucille | What’s the use of talking about it? There haven’t been any volunteers. Women can’t go wrong if they’re not invited. |
| Eileen | All I can say is, if you don’t break away from him, you’re crazy! |
| Lucille | And if I did, do you know what would happen? He’d write ten smash hits in a week. That’s my luck. … God! It would be wonderful to have some clothes and hold up my head again! |
| Eileen | I’m through arguing with you. You’re hopeless. |
| Lucille | You’d better be thinking about Mr. Hart. You may be as bad off as I am. |
| Eileen | Don’t you worry about me! If he wasn’t crazy about me, why would he be so insanely jealous? He’s insanely jealous! |
| Lucille | Has he ever said anything halfway definite? About marrying, I mean? |
| Eileen | Not in words, exactly. |
| Lucille | What did he say it in? |
| Eileen | He must be thinking of it. He doesn’t ever go out with anybody else. |
| Lucille | Trying to recall what Eileen had said. How long’s he going to be gone this time—three weeks? |
| Eileen | Yeah—about. He’s got to go to Chicago, and—a lot of places. |
| Lucille | What are you going to do with yourself all that time—just sit around? |
| Eileen | Maybe he’ll treat us to some shows—I’ll ask him tonight. Maybe he’ll get us seats for some shows. |
| Lucille | Do they still have seats at shows? |
| Eileen | Restless again. Only I wish that thing would ring! |
| Lucille | Why don’t you go out with Bert or somebody, while he’s gone? It might be a good thing for him. |
| Eileen | Do you want to get me murdered? I tell you he’s insanely jealous. The door bell rings. Who’s that? |
| Lucille | Maxie, I guess. Starting for the door. Or maybe that lyric-writer. |
| Eileen | Who? |
| Lucille | Disappearing into the hallway, talking as she goes. You know, that’s coming to see Paul. From Albany or some place. |
| Eileen | Oh! |
| Lucille | Of course he couldn’t meet him in the daytime. He has to bring him up here in the middle of the night—Having opened the outside door. Oh, it’s you! |
| Maxie | Outside. Hello, there! |
| Paul comes back into the room. | |
| Paul | Who is it? Maxie? |
| Maxie | Yah, Maxie. He is a man in his late forties, easygoing, kindly. Wears a dinner coat. He is an arranger for Goebel’s, and he knows the popular song business backwards. |
| Paul | Hello! |
| Maxie | Well! All staying home on a Saturday night? |
| Lucille | All nights are alike up here. |
| Eileen | You didn’t come right up from the office, did you? |
| Maxie | Indicates his dinner coat. Do I look it? I’m playing down at the Orchard this week. Pounding the piano for a lot of morons. I envy you people that can spend an evening at home. |
| Lucille | With emphasis. Yes. It’s a great treat. |
| Paul | I want the girls to hear the “Montana” number, the way it sounds when it’s really played. |
| Eileen starts to go. | |
| Maxie | OK. |
| Paul | Stopping Eileen. Hey! He’s going to play the “Montana” number. |
| Eileen | That’s all right. I’ll close the door. She leaves. |
| Paul | Go ahead, Maxie. She don’t know anything. |
| Maxie | Think of me slaving down at the Orchard while you people enjoy all the comforts of home. |
| An impatient movement from Lucille.. | |
| Paul | Go ahead with “Montana.” |
| Maxie | It certainly was a tough day for me when Edison invented the piano. Fixing up other people’s tunes—there’s a life work for you. |
| Paul | Go on. |
| Maxie | His fingers rambling over the keys. You know, I might have been a songwriter myself but I got stuck on my own stuff. I wrote tunes nobody ever heard before—they wouldn’t stand for it. |
| Paul | Prompting with a gesture. “Montana.” |
| Maxie | About to start, but resumes talking instead. That was a great idea of Fagan’s, writing a lyric about Montana. I’ve often wondered why lyric writers stayed out of the Northwest. |
| Paul | Maybe Fagan was born there. |
| Maxie | Naw! Shamokin, Pennsylvania. If songwriters always wrote about their home state, what a big Jewish population Tennessee must have. He starts playing a popular tune—the telephone rings. Paul takes it up. · · |
| Paul | Hello. This is him. … Oh, hello! … Where are you at now? … Well, you better hop in a taxi—it’s quite a ways yet. Eileen makes another expectant appearance in the doorway—departs in disappointment as she learns that it still isn’t her call. 448 Riverside Drive. Tell him just above 116th Street. … That’s it. He hangs up; addresses Maxie, who continues to drum. That’s Stevens, the lyric writer I was telling you about. From Schenectady. |
| Maxie | Thank God he can’t get that in a lyric. |
| Paul | He had the phone number, but he didn’t know the address. |
| Lucille | How’d he get the phone number? |
| Paul | Telephone book, I guess. |
| Lucille | And then he called up for the address? She shakes her head—it’s too much for her. I want to meet him. |
| Paul | To Maxie. You’ll like this fella. He’s young yet. He’s got a fresh slant. |
| Maxie | What does he do—write about counties instead of states? |
| Paul | I’ve been thinking maybe he and I could do something together, if I can get rid of Fagan. |
| Maxie | Fagan isn’t so bad. Only he’s using up his ideas too fast. “Montana Moon.” He puts a state and a moon all in one song. |
| Paul |
Are you going to play it? Maxie plunges into the preliminary chords; Paul comes to life and sets himself to sing. Raises a warning finger in the direction of Lucille. Now listen!
“Golden West that seems so far away,
He takes new breath for the chorus. Lucille, meanwhile, is listening intently, but hardly enthusiastically. In fact, you might almost think she didn’t like it so much.
“Montana moonlight,
At this point Lucille simply goes back to her sewing. Paul’s tone grows sharper as he sings, and she resigns herself to further listening.
“My heart is yearning.
Maxie plunges into a second chorus as Paul presses Lucille for an opinion. Don’t it sound great? The way Maxie plays it? |
| Lucille | Delivering the verdict. I don’t think Berlin will kill himself. |
| Paul | It’s nothing like Berlin. Play it in two-four and it’s a great dance tune. Maxie is obliging. Paul sings a strain of it and dances. |
| Lucille | You don’t get Berlin’s songs to dance to. You get them to cry to. |
| Paul | All right. You can cry to this, too. “My heart is yearning for kisses burning.” That’s sad. |
| Lucille | Yes, but there’s something behind his songs. Sighs. They’re sympathetic. |
| Paul | Do you want to know why? Because he gets a little sympathy now and then! He’s appreciated at home! He don’t sit around here night after night with you yapping your head off at him, telling him he’s all through! |
| Maxie | Now, now! You’re going to write plenty of hits. |
| Paul | Sits. Well, it makes a fellow lose confidence in himself. |
| Lucille | I’m trying to help you, not hurt you. |
| Paul | You go about it in a funny way. Eileen comes back; is lighting a cigarette. |
| Maxie | She doesn’t mean anything. Of course she wants to help you. But this number—I wouldn’t count on it too much if I were you. |
| Lucille | What do you mean? |
| Paul | Why not? |
| Maxie | I just wouldn’t—that’s all. You can’t tell which way they’re going to jump these days. |
| Paul | They’ll snap this one up. Unless they’re crazy. |
| Lucille | Keep still a minute. To Maxie. What’s happened? |
| Maxie | Reluctant. Nothing definite. Only they were talking about it—Hart and Goebel. |
| Paul | When were they? |
| Eileen | Has heard just enough. What did you say? |
| Maxie | Huh? I said Hart and Goebel were talking about Paul’s new number. |
| Eileen | When? |
| Paul | What did they say about it? |
| Eileen | You mean they were talking about it today? |
| Maxie | Sort of. |
| Eileen | In the office, you mean? |
| Maxie | Yah. Sure. |
| Eileen | What time? |
| Maxie | I don’t know. Five o’clock. |
| Eileen | Goebel and—Hart both? |
| Maxie | Yah. Why? Eileen takes a moment to digest this bit of information; her eyes meet Lucille’s. Then, with a sudden movement, she turns and leaves the room. Lucille, after a thoughtful second, follows her out. Maxie looks after them, uncomprehending. Then he turns back to Paul. Did I say something dirty? |
| Paul | That don’t matter. What did they say about the song? |
| Maxie | But I don’t understand— |
| Paul | Listen—what did they do? Turn it down? |
| Maxie | He has to say it. Right now they don’t want it. |
| Paul | Hotly. When did they hear it? After I left? |
| Maxie | They asked me, so there was nothing for me to do but give it to them. I had Nate sing it. |
| Paul | It’s the lyric kills it! The melody’s sure fire! Even if it don’t sell over the counter it’d get a good mechanical break. |
| Maxie | Brightly. Maybe you could sell it outside. |
| Paul | It makes a man look like a fool, working for one house and selling your stuff to another. He drops into a chair, discouraged. |
| Maxie | You mustn’t let it worry you. The next one’ll be great, and you’ll forget all about this. |
| Paul | What else did they say—when they heard it? Anything about me? |
| Maxie | What could they say about you? |
| Paul | If I don’t deliver pretty soon they’ll let me out. I’ll be like all those fellows that come around every day with another tune. The door bell sounds. I guess this is Stevens. |
| Maxie | Who? |
| Paul | Stevens—that lyric writer. |
| Maxie | Maybe he’s just what you need. Maybe he’ll make all the difference in the world. |
| Paul | His stuff’s pretty good—what I’ve seen of it. Disappears into the vestibule. |
| Maxie | Cheerily. There you are! Everything’ll be fine! You see! He is playing the piano again. |
| Paul | In the hallway. Hello, Stevens! Glad to see you! |
| Fred | Hello, Mr. Sears! |
| Paul | Put your hat and coat on the chair. Come right in! This is Maxie—Mr. Schwartz. Shake hands with Mr. Stevens. |
| Fred | Glad to meet you, Mr. Schwartz. |
| Maxie | Playing with one hand and shaking hands with the other. Hello, Stevens. |
| Lucille strolls back, eyeing the new arrival. | |
| Paul | And this is my wife. Dear, this is Mr. Stevens. |
| Lucille | How are you? |
| Fred | Right there with an answer. I’m all right. |
| Lucille | Paul tells me you’re a songwriter yourself. |
| Fred | Modestly. Just the words. |
| Lucille | Well, that’s all Paul needs—that and the music. |
| Fred | I’ve always been one of Mr. Sears’ greatest admirers. I’ve admired Mr. Sears ever since he wrote “Paprika.” |
| Lucille | You’ve got a good memory. |
| Paul | Maybe Stevens and I will turn out another “Paprika.” |
| Fred | I’m anxious to get started, all right. Since I got to town, all I’ve done so far is spend money. |
| Lucille | Expansively. Well, you’re quite a stranger! |
| Paul | Sit down. |
| Fred | Thanks. I guess I’m a little late. I got off the wrong subway station and there was an old woman there selling papers, and I stopped and talked to her because I knew she must be somebody’s mother. |
| Maxie | Who has never stopped playing. A fresh slant. |
| Fred | I was right too, because she told me she has six sons. I feel sorry for old women that has to earn their living. |
| Lucille | What do the boys do—rent her the stand? |
| Fred | No, most of them are in a hospital and two of them had their foot cut off. She told me all about it and I give her a dollar. |
| Paul | You want to be careful in a place like New York. There’s all kinds of people waiting to take your money away from you. |
| Fred | It’s a great city, all right. Today I took the ferryboat over to Staten’s Island and back. He explains it to Lucille. It’s an island and you have to take a ferryboat. But I suppose you been there. |
| Lucille | I go there a lot—just for the trip. |
| Fred | I seen the Goddest of Liberty, too—I mean the statue. It cost a million dollars and weighs 225 ton. |
| Maxie | Gently. She ought to cut out sweets. He indulges in a fancy run. |
| Fred | A gesture in the direction of Maxie. He can play the piano! … And I seen some of the big ocean liner steamboats. I seen the President Harding just coming in from London or Europe or somewheres, and the other day I seen the Majestic tied up to the dock. She’s pretty near twicet as long as the President Harding and weighs 56,000 ton. The President Harding only weighs 14,000 ton. |
| Lucille | Imagine! |
| Fred | To Lucille. Have you been through the Holland Tunnel? |
| Lucille | No, I haven’t. |
| Fred | To Paul. Have you been through the Holland Tunnel? |
| Paul | No. |
| Fred | Not for a minute giving up. Have you been through the Holland Tunnel, Mr. Schwartz? |
| Maxie | I’ve been waiting for somebody to go with. |
| Fred | I’ll go with you! |
| Maxie | Fine! |
| Fred | I want to go every place so as to get ideas for songs. I was telling Mr. Sears about one idea—I haven’t got it written yet-it’s a song about the traffic lights. Green for “Come ahead!” and red for “Stop!” Maybe a comical song with a girl signaling her sweetheart with different colored lights in the window; a green light when it’s all right for him to call— |
| Lucille | And a red one when her husband’s home. |
| Fred | Shocked. No, I was thinking about her father. I wouldn’t write about those kind of women—I got no sympathy for them. |
| Lucille | I guess you’re right. |
| Fred | I was thinking of another idea on the way up here. Maybe a song about the melting pots—all the immigrants from overseas who’ve come to the Land of Liberty. Take the Jews—do you know there’s nearly two million Jews in New York City alone? |
| Maxie | What do you mean alone? |
| Fred | And then there’s the Hall of Fame, up to Washington Heights. They got everybody up there. Washington, Lincoln, Longfellow. They got two dozen—what do you call ’em—busts? |
| Lucille | Sweetly, to Paul. That’s the place for you, dear. |
| Fred | No. A man’s got to be dead for twenty-five years. |
| Lucille | Well, that fits in. |
| Maxie | It’s too much for him. I’ve got to be going along. |
| Paul | Wait! I want Stevens to show you one of his lyrics—have you got that one with you? About the game? |
| Maxie | I’ve got to be downtown at ten. |
| Paul | This won’t take a minute. To Fred. Go ahead. |
| Fred | I’ll have to explain first, so you’ll understand. The idea came to me at a football game between Syracuse and Colgate. They beat them, and they felt pretty bad, so the idea come to me for this little song. I call it “Life Is a Game.” |
| Maxie | A novelty! |
| Fred | Here’s the verse. Are you ready? |
| Paul | Yeah. |
| Fred |
“I don’t know why some people cry
That’s the verse. |
| Lucille | Uh-huh! |
| Fred |
Then here’s the refrain: “Life is a game; we are but players—” |
| Maxie | Hey, bring it here! Maybe we can put some music to it. |
| Fred | Just play some chords. |
| Maxie | I’ll see if I know any. |
| Maxie |
Sings as well as he can to Maxie’s improvisation.
“Life is a game; we are but players
Maxie picks up the last line and sings it again, tacking on a rousing musical finale to fit. It is really the finish of “All Those Endearing Young Charms,” but so far as Fred is concerned it has been composed especially for his lyric. He is beaming with pleasure. I haven’t got the second verse yet. |
| Maxie | You won’t need one. |
| Lucille | I like a song with love interest. |
| Fred | Well, I got an idea and a title for another one—I mean, of course I got lots of ideas, but this one, I told it to a party and she—he catches himself, embarrassed—I mean, this party seemed to think it was pretty good. |
| Paul | Let’s hear it. |
| Fred | It’s just a title. You told me you’d rather have just a title and then write the tune first. |
| Paul | What’s the title? |
| Fred | “June Moon.” That’s the title—“June Moon.” |
| Maxie | A war song. |
| Fred | No, no. The verse will be about a fella that’s met a girl in June, when there was a moon shining, and then something happened so that she went away, or maybe he went away, and then whenever he looks up at the moon after that, he thinks of her. In the second verse, she’ll be doing the same thing for him. |
| Lucille | That’s fair enough. |
| Paul | I don’t know—another moon song. |
| Maxie | Dashing to the piano. “June Moon”—I’ve got it! |
| He ad-libs a melody; Fred chimes in with some extemporized words. | |
| Fred | Singing. June Moon, how I wish you so-and-so, how I miss my so-and-so, spoon! He comes out strong on the “spoon”—that’s right, anyhow. |
| Meanwhile the phone has rung again, and under cover of the music Lucille has answered it. | |
| Lucille | Hello. … No, this is Lucille. Just a minute. She puts down the receiver. Eileen! |
| Paul | Who has managed, despite the confusion, to make mental note of Maxie’s melody. Well, I might be able to dig up something for that. |
| Fred | Plunging expansively into explanation. I got the idea coming in on the train. I happened to look out of the window— |
| He stops abruptly as Eileen comes back on. She has put on a dress, but, in view of the news that Maxie had brought, not the evening dress. She looks smart, however, and Fred is impressed, to say the least. Paying no attention to anyone, she heads straight for the telephone. | |
| Eileen | Hello! … Oh, no, not at all. To say that the lady is sarcastic is putting it mildly. What train? … You’re sure of that, are you? Nothing, only I thought you might be mistaken. Everybody makes mistakes, you know. It’s a good chance for Maxie to escape, and he leaps up. While Eileen is still talking he manages to get out—“Goodbye, everybody! I’m due at the Orchard! Glad to have met you, Stevens,” etc. Paul follows him out with: “Now look! Don’t say anything to Fagan, because I don’t want him to know until—” The voices die out. Fred, a bit embarrassed, is left alone with the two girls, while Eileen continues her phone talk. Yes, I can imagine. It must have been terribly tiresome in Philadelphia all day. … What? … Oh, really? Her tone indicates that this is the body blow. I thought you were leaving tomorrow. … What time tonight? … My, it must be important! … Then—I won’t have a chance to say goodbye before you go. … Oh, no, don’t trouble yourself—it’s quite all right. … Yes, I’m sure you are … No, I don’t mind a bit. I’m just sorry you have to spend the night on a train, that’s all. … Oh, perfectly! … Have a pleasant trip. But she doesn’t mean “pleasant trip.” She hangs up; a look flashes between her and Lucille. |
| Lucille | Coming back to the present. Mr. Stevens, this is my sister, Miss Fletcher. Eileen—Mr. Stevens. She gives a broad wave of the hand, as if to say, “And if you want him, he’s yours.” |
| Eileen | Her mind on the telephone. Hello. |
| Fred | I’m glad to meet you, Miss Fletcher. |
| Eileen | Thanks. |
| Lucille | Mr. Stevens is a lyric writer. He’s from Schenectady. |
| Eileen | Oh, yes. Have you been in New York long? |
| Fred | Just a couple of weeks. I’m from Schenectady. |
| Eileen | A lot she cares. Schenectady, eh? |
| Lucille | With the air of a person who is washing that up. Schenectady. |
| Fred | I was with the General Electric Company, but I left them. |
| Eileen | I suppose they’ve closed down? |
| Fred | Who knows better than that. No. I had a postcard today from a fella that works there. |
| Lucille | Mr. Stevens has been all over New York, getting ideas for songs. |
| Eileen | Do you like it? |
| Fred | Yes, I like it fine, but it costs money to live here. For instance, I had breakfast in the hotel this morning and it was ninety cents for salt mackerel and mashed potatoes and a cup of Instant Postum. |
| Lucille | No wonder you think New York’s expensive! A few more breakfasts like that and you won’t have any money left. |
| Fred | I still got plenty. |
| Lucille | Really? She flashes a look to Eileen. I’ll bet you haven’t been to any of the real places, have you? It takes a New Yorker to find those. |
| Fred | I seen the Goddest of Liberty. |
| Lucille | Oh, I mean the night places! |
| Fred | I seen it at night. |
| Lucille | Oh, no! Restaurants! |
| Fred | Huh? |
| Lucille | Mr. Stevens would love those. To Eileen. Wouldn’t he? |
| Eileen | Slowly coming to. Yah. |
| Lucille | I’ll tell you what! Why don’t we make up a party—the four of us—and show Mr. Stevens the town! |
| Fred | You mean tonight? |
| Lucille | What do you say, Eileen? How about it? |
| Eileen | Thinking hard; her eyes go involuntarily to the telephone. Why—sure! I don’t know why not! Sure! |
| Fred | Well, wait! It’d be great to go, all right, only the trouble is I got another engagement! |
| Lucille | Oh, but you could put that off! |
| Eileen | Of course you could! |
| Lucille | As Paul reenters. Paul had another engagement, too. He broke it on your account, didn’t you, dear? |
| Paul | To whom this is news. What? |
| Lucille | We thought it would be fun for the four of us to go out some place, but Mr. Stevens doesn’t want to. |
| Fred | It ain’t that I don’t want to, but— |
| Lucille | You know, you really ought to. Paul was just saying that what you needed was to go places where they do the latest numbers and hear what kind of songs are getting over! That’s true, isn’t it, Paul? |
| Paul | Ah, yes! Sure! |
| Lucille | Of course it is! Are we all set? |
| Fred | Well, I want to go all right. It’s only I don’t know on account of this other engagement. |
| Eileen | But you could do something about that. You could go if you really wanted to. So close to him that he is groggy. Don’t you—want to? |
| Fred | Hesitating. Well, I ain’t dressed to go out. I mean, to some swell place. |
| Eileen | We’ll go where we don’t have to dress. |
| Lucille | How about the Orchard? Wouldn’t Maxie be surprised to see the four of us stroll in? |
| Eileen | Lucille and I’ll go right in and get our things on. A movement. |
| Paul | Well, wait a minute! It’s just that I didnt happen to bring much money with me— |
| Lucille | Oh, that’s all right. Mr. Stevens can be the treasurer tonight and you can fix it up with him later! |
| Eileen | As long as you’re going to be partners! |
| Lucille | Come on! Let’s hurry! |
| The Girls rush off. | |
| Paul | Is that all right with you? |
| Fred | Looking after the pair. Say, she’s quite a girl, isn’t she? |
| Paul | Who? Eileen? |
| Fred | Does she live here with you all the time? |
| Paul | Yah. She does. |
| Fred | She’s a regular New York girlie. |
| Paul | Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad notion for you to knock around a few nights—I mean, before we start working. Might give you some ideas. |
| Fred | I’m willing. |
| Paul | Great! |
| Fred | Say, can I use your phone a minute? |
| Paul | Sure. Do you want the book? |
| Fred | No, I know the number. Takes receiver off. Rhinelander 4160. |
| Paul | I’d better clean up a bit. |
| Fred | Look! They was talking about this Orchard. That ain’t one of them expensive places, is it? |
| Paul | No. Just about average. |
| Fred | Hello. … I want to speak to Miss Edna Baker, please. … Yes. To Paul. I mean, what do you think it would be likely to come to for the four of us? More than ten dollars? |
| Paul | Vaguely. No—not unless we go on to some other place. You’ve got more with you, haven’t you? |
| Fred | What other place? |
| Paul | One of the other clubs. |
| Fred | But I don’t-hello. … Hello. … Eddie? … I want to tell you something. |
| Paul | I’ll go and wash up. Departs. |
| Fred | Well, I’m up there now, but that isn’t—Sure. … Yeah, it looks all right. … No, I’m still here. There was a piano player here from Goebel’s. He liked my stuff and made up a tune to some of it. … Yeah. … He said it was all right. But that isn’t … what I called up to say was I can’t get around there till late. … No, it’ll be later than that. There’s no telling what time it’ll be. … We got to study some songs. … Paul Sears and his wife. … No, no, don’t think that. It’s a business proposition. They’re taking me to a place where we’ll get some ideas. … Just the three of us. … But you know I’d rather be with you. Eileen comes back, coat over arm. But I can’t. … I can’t. … They’re taking me. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. … That’s all I can say now. … I can’t. … In the morning. … Good night. Hangs up. |
| Eileen | You seem to be having your troubles. |
| Fred | No, that wasn’t anything. Just a—friend of mine. |
| Eileen | Is she nice? |
| Fred | It isn’t anybody. Just a little girl I happened to meet. |
| Eileen | I understand. |
| Fred | She’s just a—a girl from a little town. |
| Lucille comes back, full of life. Pulling on gloves, etc. | |
| Lucille | Listen—it’s kind of early for the Orchard anyhow. So why don’t we take in the second show at the Capitol? |
| Paul is on again. | |
| Paul | Is everybody ready? |
| Eileen | Oh, that’s fine! And I know what you’d love! After the Orchard what do you say we go to the Cotton Club? She throws a quick explanation to Fred. That’s Harlem! |
| Lucille | Great! |
| Eileen | They’ve got a wonderful tap dancer up there! Better than Bill Robinson! |
| Paul | But say, the Cotton Club don’t get hot till three! |
| Fred | Who has never heard of that hour. What time? |
| Eileen | Oh, that’s all right! We can go to the Madrid or Richman’s in between! |
| Lucille | Oh, great! |
| Paul | But say, Richman’s burned down the other night! |
| Fred | Let’s not go there! |
| Lucille | I’ll tell you where I haven’t been for a long while! The St. Regis Roof! |
| Eileen | Grand! |
| Lucille | They’ve a wonderful view! |
| Fred | Where? |
| Lucille | The St. Regis Roof. |
| Fred | I get dizzy if I climb a ladder! |
| The voices of the others pick up in a confused jumble as The Curtain Falls. |