June Moon

By Ring Lardner and George S. Kaufman.

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Foreword

In the year 1898 there were 201 fatal street accidents in the city of New York. Of these, eighty-eight were caused by horse vehicles and 113 by streetcars. In the latter total are included people who died of old age while waiting for cars that were not labelled “Car Barn Only.” The following year brought the automobile to America’s metropolis and the statistics attribute one fatality to its arrival, as against 103 deaths by horse vehicles and 167 by streetcars. It was not until 1913 that the automobile forged to the front as a lethal weapon, never again to be headed. After 1918 the horses and streetcars virtually gave up trying, and the figures for last year show that the thing has ceased to be a contest and become a joke⁠—1,075 deaths by autos, 64 by streetcars and 14 by horse vehicles.

It is estimated that if the horse vehicles and streetcars had kept on fighting and maintained their early leadership over automobiles, by the year 1970 the entire population of New York City would have been wiped out and no harm done.

The World Almanac, from which this information was gleaned, gives us only one ray of hope. In New York’s biggest borough, Brooklyn, there were a thousand fewer births and thirteen hundred more death in 1928 than in 1927. It may also comfort some folks to know that only fifty thousand more New Yorkers speak Yiddish and Hebrew than English and Celtic.

Dramatis Personae

June Moon

Prologue

The scene is a section of a parlor car speeding toward New York, and not so very far from it when the curtain rises. We see only two chairs clearly; the ends of the car dissolve in shadows. On these less visible chairs are tossed vague overcoats and magazines; the racks above them are filled with baggage. There is a bag or two overhead; on the floor are quantities of Sunday newspapers, along with plenty of rotogravure sections, curling carelessly against the bottoms of the chairs. It is night, and the shades are down.

In the two vital chairs sit a boy and a girl. The name of the boy, as we presently find out, is Fred Stevens. The girl is Edna Baker. She sits with her back to him, and is absorbed in a magazine when the curtain goes up. The boy, who is not exactly a literary type, is a bit restless. He wriggles in his seat, sighs, peers discreetly at the girl, who pays no attention. With a bit too much of a flourish, as though he thus hoped to attract her attention, he whips out a time table and studies it. Consults his watch; swings and peers out of the window, hand cupped over eyes to exclude the light. Then he swings back, relaxes⁠—and looks toward the girl again. She swings her chair around for a second; peers down the aisle, but swings back without having permitted the boy to catch her eye. He rattles his newspaper a trifle obviously; indulges in a bit of bad whistling; hums a little. She swings around again; another look down the aisle. Fred girds up his courage to break the ice. The girl, who has the situation well in hand, gives sudden and demure attention to an imaginary spot on her dress. She chips at it with a fingernail.

Fred Diffidently extending his newspaper. Would you⁠—care to look at the paper?
Edna Ever so properly, in the manner of a young woman who never has been spoken to on a train before. Oh, thank you very much. I don’t think so, thank you. By turning away from him again she indicates that she is not encouraging a continuation of the interview.
Fred I thought maybe you might want to read.
Edna No, thank you. She gives him a small smile.
Fred Trying desperately to keep things going. We’re due in New York at ten-three.
Edna Yes, I know.
Fred You got on at Hudson, didn’t you?
Edna Yes.
Fred I seen you. A pause after this momentous remark. I been on ever since Schenectady.
Edna Really?
Fred That’s where I work. I mean, where I did work. At the GE.
Edna GE?
Fred General Electric. They call it the GE. That’s where their plant is, Schenectady.
Edna Feeling that it’s all right to help along. I’ve got a girlfriend from Schenectady.
Fred Is that so?
Edna She’s in New York now, or at least she was the last time I heard of her. Working at Saks’. Grace Crowell.
Fred I used to know a Mildred Crowell, but her name wasn’t Grace.
Edna Refusing to give in. This was Grace. I haven’t seen her for years, and I never did know her very well.
Fred Mildred Crowell’s brother was quite a billiard player. Three cushions. Eddie, his name was.
Edna That’s my name, too. Laughs. Of course it isn’t my real name. It’s just my nickname. My real name’s Edna.
Fred Oh! He comes back to vital matters. Eddie Crowell used to pretty near live on the billiard table. Then finally his health broke down and he went out West somewheres. I couldn’t tell you now if he’s dead or alive.
Edna It’s funny how we lose track of people. Some of the girls I used to go with, they still live there yet, but I never look any of them up, except Gertie Hutton. I guess it’s terrible of me not to, because if a person’s got good friends, they ought to keep them.
Fred I certainly got good ones. They showed that last night, at the banquet. He has finally managed to bring that up.
Edna Were you at a banquet?
Fred I had to be. It was me they give it for. I mean, I was the guest of honor.
Edna How exciting!
Fred It was a farewell testimonial on account of me going to New York. And then this afternoon ten or eleven of them come down to the station, and Ernie Butler had a hangover and bought me this seat in the parlor car; he said it would be a disgrace for me to ride in the day coach with this new bag. He indicates a shining yellow suitcase at his side.
Edna It’s a beautiful bag!
Fred They give it to me at the banquet. It’s got my initials. See? F. M. S. Frederick M. Stevens.
Edna What’s the M for?
Fred Martin.
Edna I like a man to have a middle name. Girls don’t usually have them. I’m just plain Edna.
Fred Pretty daring, for him. I wouldn’t say “plain.”
Edna You know how to make pretty speeches.
Fred I bet you’re used to them.
Edna There’s another one. I’m not so used to them that I don’t like to hear them, especially from people whom I think they’re sincere.
Fred I don’t say things unless I mean them.
Edna I’m glad of that.
Fred Talking about speeches, you ought to heard the speech Carl Williams, made when he give me this bag. At the banquet, I mean. I guess I blushed, the things he said about me. A lot more than I deserve.
Edna I bet they were sorry to see you go. You look like the kind of a man men would like. And girls, too.
Fred I don’t go around much with girls.
Edna I don’t go much with men, either.
Fred Neither do I. A pause; that subject’s cleaned up. It’s comfortable in here, ain’t it? Like being home. I never been in a parlor car before.
Edna My brother always insists on me riding in it. He says the day coach is generally dirty, for one thing⁠—and another thing, the men that ride in the day coach are the kind that try and make up to pretty girls. That sounds like I was throwing a bouquet at myself, but I’m just repeating what Dick said. That’s my brother’s name, Dick. I guess a brother always thinks their sister is good-looking.
Fred I believe in a man sticking up for their sister, or any woman. I got no use for a man that don’t respect woman’s hood. Where would a man be if it wasn’t for their mothers and sisters and wives?
Edna Some men haven’t got wives.
Fred I haven’t got one myself⁠—yet. I ain’t been lucky enough to meet a woman who would be a good pal as well as a sweetheart. I want my wife to be like mother used to be.
Edna I love to have a man love their mother.
Fred I wished mine was still here. Like Carl Williams said in his speech last night⁠—if she was still here, maybe she would be a little proud of me.
Edna I’ll bet she would.
Fred He made quite a speech, all right. He said the boys expected me to make Irving Berlin jealous. I said I didn’t want to make nobody jealous, but I wanted to make my friends proud. I said my only regret in going to New York was on account of leaving so many good friends behind, and as soon as my songs begun to sell up in the hundred thousands, and my dreams came true, I would invite them all down to visit me on Broadway and show them the sights.
Edna A bit too eagerly. Is that what you are? A songwriter?
Fred Nods. Not the music part; just the words. Lyrics, they’re called.
Edna It must be wonderful to have a gift like that.
Fred That’s what Benny Davis called it⁠—a gift. I guess you’ve heard of him⁠—he’s turned out a hundred smash hits.
Edna I guess I must have.
Fred He wrote, “Oh, How I Miss You Tonight!” It was a song about how he missed his mother⁠—he called her his “Old Pal.”
Edna That’s sweet!
Fred Well, he happened to be playing in Schenectady in vaudeville, and I happened to meet him and I happened to show him some of my lyrics. And he said a man like I with the songwriting gift was a sucker not to go to New York, because that’s where they have the Mecca for a man if you got the songwriting gift. So he give me a letter to the Friars’ Club, asking them to give me a two weeks’ card, they call it. The Friars’ Club is where they have the Mecca for songwriters. And he give me a letter of introduction to Paul Sears, the composer. He wrote “Paprika.” You remember “Paprika”? He sings a strain of it. “Paprika, Paprika, the spice of my life⁠—”
Edna With quick concurrence. I think so.
Fred When you write a song like “Paprika” you don’t ever have to worry again. He’s one of the most successful composers there is, Paul Sears. I bet you I and he will turn out some hits together.
Edna Are you going to be partners with him?
Fred If he wants me to, and I guess he will when I show him Benny Davis’s letter. That’s the hard part, getting acquainted. I’d have broke away a long while ago only for my sister. I couldn’t leave her alone.
Edna Is she in Schenectady?
Fred Nods. She got married a week ago Saturday. A fella I been working with in the shipping department⁠—Bob Gifford.
Edna She’ll miss you just the same. I know how sisters feel, especially when their brother is like you or Dick.
Fred Well, anyway, she got married, and I give them a pair of bookends.
Edna She’ll love them!
Fred She always done everything for me⁠—I mean, cooked my meals and sewed things for me. Look! Dives for his bag and starts opening it. She made me a half a dozen shirts before I left. Different colors. Here’s one of the blue ones. I bet if you was to buy a shirt like that, you couldn’t buy a shirt like that under a dollar seventy-five.
Edna I’ll bet it would cost more than that.
Fred Marion can sew, all right. My mother used to say she was a born seamstress.
Edna I love to sew. Looks at the shirt. Has it got your monogram, your initials?
Fred No. She was going to put a F on the sleeve, but she was too busy.
Edna It’s too bad you’re not my brother and I’d embroider your whole initials.
Fred You don’t have to be a man’s sister to embroider their shirt.
Edna I don’t want you to misjudge me, Mr. Stevens. I’m not the kind of a girl that talks to strangers. My friends would die if they knew I was talking to a man whom I had not been properly introduced.
Fred You don’t need to be scared of me, girlie. I treat all women like they was my sister. Till I find out different.
Edna A girl alone in New York can’t be too careful, especially a girl in my position. You take at Dr. Quinn’s, where I work⁠—he’s one of the best dentists there is, and he has lots of men patients that would be only too glad to start a little flirtation. Why even Doctor himself was fresh, the first day I met him. It turned out he wasn’t really, but it seemed that way. He put his arm around my shoulders and I jumped away from him like he was a leopard or something, and I told him, I said, “Doctor, I guess I don’t care to work here after all.” Then he laughed and said forget it, that he was just testing me. He said he didn’t want an assistant who was inclined to flirt. And from that day he’s never made any advances, except once or twice.
Fred He’d keep his distance if I was around.
Edna I wish you could be.
Fred I got plenty of excuses for being there. I got a cavity as big as the Grand Canyon.
Edna Laughing a little harder than is necessary. You must forgive me laughing. Caroline used to tell me I had the keenest sense of humor of any person she ever met.
Fred First thing you know I’ll be in to see Dr. What’s-His-Name myself.
Edna He’ll fix it for you. He’s a wonderful dentist.
Fred If I come, it’ll probably be when he’s out to lunch.
Edna Then what would you come for?
Fred I’ll let you guess.
Edna I’d rather you told me. I’m a bad guesser.
Fred I might come to see you. Would you let me?
Edna I’d love it, if you wanted to.
Fred I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.
Edna You’ll forget all about it.
Fred No, I won’t. Your smile will always haunt me.
Edna I’ll bet you’re a wonderful songwriter. No wonder your friends gave you that big dinner.
Fred It certainly was quite a banquet. I bet some of my pals got a headache today, all right.
Edna I hope you haven’t got one.
Fred No. Liquor don’t afflict me like most people.
Edna I hardly ever touch it myself, only once in a great while, at a party.
Fred Girls ought to lay off it entirely.
Edna Quickly covering her slip. I never touch it.
Fred Take some of those women in Schenectady and they want to go out somewhere every night and guzzle. Married women, too.
Edna I don’t see how they can, with a home to take care of.
Fred Either they get all dressed up and drag their husband to a dance or a card party every night, or either they lay around the house in a wrapper.
Edna When I marry I’ll be just as careful of my appearance as I am now. I believe a husband appreciates a wife dressing up for him.
Fred Ever the practical soul. If it ain’t too expensive.
Edna The man I marry won’t have any complaints. I make practically all my own clothes. Caroline⁠—she’s the girl I used to live with⁠—she used to say I always looked like I had just stepped out of a bandbox, even if we were only sitting in our room. We hardly ever went out evenings; personally I prefer to stay home and read, or else just sit and dream. But still I always bathe and change my clothes even when I’m only going to cook dinner.
Fred I think I’ll take a room with a bathroom when I get to the hotel.
Edna Where are you going to stay?
Fred The Hotel Somerset. They got rooms with a bathroom right in the room, so you don’t have to go out of the room. And it’s close to the music publishing houses and the Friars’ Club⁠—any place I want to go, I can walk. Except to Paul Sears’ place. He probably lives in some swell apartment, or maybe a country place in Great Neck or Jamaica.
Edna A successful man like he wouldn’t live in Jamaica.
Fred Well, some place. I don’t know much about New York; I only been there once before, with Carl Williams. He’s the fella that made the speech last night. It was the first time he’s been away from home in the evening since he was married. He’s got a wife and baby now.
Edna So impulsively. Oh, I’m dying to have a baby! She catches herself. Heavens! I didn’t mean to say that. I love them so.
Fred It’s nothing against a woman to like babies. Carl’s wife certainly likes hers. She’s made him a nice home, too. He didn’t have to buy hardly anything in the way of furniture; her grandmother gave her a bedroom suit and she bought some herself with money she saved while she was working at Berger’s.
Edna She must be a good deal like myself. I could almost start housekeeping with the things I’ve got. I suppose I’m silly and old-fashioned, but I always thought a girl should bring her husband something besides herself. I even wouldn’t mind going on working after I was married, till my husband established himself.
Fred The girl I marry won’t never have to work. I don’t believe God ever meant for a woman to endure a life of druggery.
Edna Oh, Mr. Stevens, if only all men felt the same way!
Fred A look at his watch. My, it’s nine twenty-six already.
Edna It’s been a shorter trip than usual, for some reason.
Fred Trying to peer out the window. I wonder where we’re at now?
Edna Also peering. Pretty near Yonkers, I guess.
Fred If we was on the other side we could see the Hudson River.
Edna My, but it’s dark!
Fred There’s a moon out.
Edna Yes, I love it.
Fred June⁠—moon.
Edna What?
Fred I just said June moon.
Edna It isn’t June. It’s October.
Fred I know, but June and moon go together. They rhyme. I’m always thinking of words that rhyme, even when I ain’t working.
Edna That’d be a catchy name, “June Moon.” For a song, I mean.
Fred Yes, you could get other words to go with it. Spoon, and croon, and soon. Marry soon, or something.
Edna And macaroon.
Fred Yeah. I wish I had some. I’m hungry.
Edna I am, too, kind of. After a pause. Some day when that song is published and people are singing it everywhere, I’ll say to my friends, “I knew the man that wrote that. We were riding on a train and he looked out and saw the moon, and he thought of this song, and then the train got to New York and he never saw poor little me again.”
Fred You won’t be telling the truth, because I’m going to see you again.
Edna You say that now. But you’ll forget all about me.
Fred No, I won’t. Are you going right home when we get in?
Edna Why⁠—I intended to. She sits up, expectantly.
Fred I thought I’d go and get something to eat some place, only I wouldn’t know where to go if I didn’t have somebody with me that knowed where to go.
Edna I can tell you a place where I go once in a while, the Little Venice. Though most of the time I stay home and cook my own dinner, just because I love to cook.
Fred It’ll be a little late to cook tonight. I was wondering if you wouldn’t go along to this place, and maybe we could eat together.
Edna I’d love to.
Fred It ain’t a very expensive place, is it?
Edna Oh, no. The last time I went, there was two of us and we had hot roast beef sandwiches, and peas, and coffee, and it only came to a dollar-twenty.
Fred With vast relief. All right. I guess we can each afford sixty cents.
That winds up the Prologue.

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,
Golden girl for whom I’m always pining,
Don’t you know I love you night and day,
But chiefly when the full bright moon is shining!”

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,
As bright as noon light,
Oh, may it soon light
My way to you!
I know you’re lonely,
My one and only,
For I am lonely,
Yes, lonely, too.”

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.
For kisses burning,
For lips as sweet as a rose in June.
I’m always dreaming.
Of your eyes gleaming,
Beneath the beaming.
Montana Moon!”

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
When things appear to go wrong;
I always say ‘Laugh and be gay!’
Things cannot always go wrong!
No use to pine, no use to whine,
Things will come right if you just give them time.”

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
Playing the best we know how.
If you are beat, don’t let it wrangle;
No one can win all the time.
Sometimes the odds seem dead against you;
What has to be, has to be,
But smile just the same, for life is a game,
And God is a fine referee.”

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.

Act II

The scene is a room at Goebel’s music publishing house. A piano, a few chairs, some shelves, and you have it. Three or four weeks have gone by since Act I.

Maxie is at the piano just amusing himself when the curtain rises. He is playing “La Boheme” and cutting loose a trifle. There enters, from one of the adjacent offices, a young woman (an employee) known as Goldie. She may have got her name because of the color of her hair or from the fact that she is really a Miss Goldberg. That point is never brought up in this play, but may some day be the subject of a musical comedy. Anyway, she comes on and busies herself looking over songs at the music shelves, on which the hits of these and other days are piled high.

Goldie Busy with her songs. “There Never Was a Girl Like Mother.”
Maxie Maybe it’s all for the best.⁠ ⁠… How’s the boss? Did he have a good trip?
Goldie He says not. He says in the Middle West they’re still wild over “The Rosary.”
Maxie That looks like a hit.
Goldie Did Benny find you? He was looking for you.
Maxie Not yet.
Goldie He’s got a new song.
Maxie That’s good. I was afraid he was written out.
Goldie You’d better hide if you don’t want to hear it.
Maxie No use⁠—he always gets his man. Besides, I’ve got to stick around and play Paul’s new one, “June Moon.”
Goldie Is it any good?
Maxie It’s got a chance. It’s a tune that’s easy to remember, but if you should forget it it wouldn’t make any difference.
Fred plunges in.
Fred Ain’t Mr. Hart back yet?
Goldie Not yet.
Fred Don’t you even know what time he’s coming?
Goldie Can’t tell. His first day back in town⁠—he’s probably got a lot of things to do. She goes⁠—and pretty disrespectfully, too.
Fred It’s half past four. He said he was coming back at two o’clock.
Maxie You get used to waiting in this game. I’ve been in it twenty-two years and nothing’s happened yet.
Fred Paul’s coming right in. We want to play the song once before Mr. Hart hears it. I made a change.
Maxie Whereabouts.
Fred In the refrain. We had it “Sweet night-bird, hovering above,” now it’s “winging aloft.” You see, “aloft” means the same like “above.”
Maxie Only higher.
Fred I wish I’d known Mr. Hart was going to be late. I could have slept some more. I had to get up at twelve.
Maxie That must be tough after working for the General Electric, where a man’s hours are practically his own.
Fred No. I had to be on the job at eight, every morning. But I went to bed about ten, except Saturday nights, when I seen a picture or something. I didn’t know what life was, in Schenectady.
Maxie I bet it’s an open book to you now.
Fred Imagine⁠—only going out one night a week and then just to a moving picture show! Down here it’s like as if every night was a special night⁠—there’s always new places to go to. Miss Fletcher⁠—she’s always locating new ones! We was in three last night! Wound up at half past seven this morning, in the Bucket of Blood! There’s a lively place! We was the last ones there. Paul and Lucille, they went home at seven, but I and Miss Fletcher stayed and she made the proprietor sell me six bottles of his gin. It’s real gin; what they call pro-war. You got to have good gin. It’s one of the things they put into what they call a Bronx cocktail.
Maxie Is that so?
Fred Didn’t you ever have one?
Maxie I don’t drink. After I listen to songs all day I don’t want liquor. I just go home and take a general anesthetic.
Fred I like Bronxes best. They’re nothing but gin and orange juice. I don’t know why they call it a Bronx.
Maxie It’s great orange country, up there.
Fred Anyway, I got a bargain⁠—six bottles for sixty bucks. I give Miss Fletcher three bottles for a present, because if it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have got them. She made the man do it. When you’re around with her you just can’t resist doing things.
Maxie I know. That’s why I don’t carry a gun.
Fred She’s a great sport, all right. She’d make a wonderful wife⁠—she’s such a good pal. I think a man’s wife ought to be their pal as well as their sweetheart.
Maxie You ought to patent that.
Fred Say⁠—how much money do you think a fella ought to be making before he could get married? In New York, I mean?
Maxie It depends on the girl.
Fred Buddy De Sylva makes pretty near half a million dollars a year out of just writing lyrics. I guess a man could support a wife on that!
Maxie If she was satisfied to ride a bicycle.
Fred Well, suppose “June Moon” is a big smash? What’s the most we could make out of it?
Maxie It’s hard to say. Take a song like “Swanee River” and it’s still going big.
Fred Yeah, but that’s because it was in a big production like Show Boat.
Maxie How’s that?
Fred And with that girl to sing it, that sits on the piano.
Maxie You’re thinking of Ruby Keeler in The Wild Duck.
Fred Well, whoever it was. Turns away; suddenly remembers. Oh, say! I was over to the tailor’s today. I’m getting a new suit. Miss Fletcher took me.
Maxie That so?
Fred It’s a blue search, with a hair-bone strip. He took my measures all over. Like I was a fighter. I’m thirty-eight inches around my chest, and thirty-three around my stomach, and⁠—I forget my thigh. Anyway, he’s got it all wrote down.
Maxie I must get a copy.
Fred If they like “June Moon” I’m going to have an evening dinner coat made, with a Tuxedo. I been wearing an old suit of Paul’s, but it’s too big. Miss Fletcher says it would hold two like me.
Maxie There couldn’t be two.
Fred She was just joking.
Maxie I see.
Fred They’ve given me a wonderful time, all right. They’ve introduced me to all the big stars! Gil Boag, and Earl Carroll, and Texas Guinan! I met Texas Guinan!
Maxie She’s kind of hard to meet, isn’t she?
Fred No. She’s one of the friendliest women I ever seen. When the girls told her who I was she said it was a big night in her life⁠—she said she’d always wanted to meet a lyric writer. I wonder what my friends in Schenectady would say if they knew I sat around and talked to Texas Guinan! I didn’t know nothing when I lived there. Even the first few weeks I was in New York, I was kind of a sap.
Maxie That sounds incredible.
Fred I went sightseeing to places like the Aquarium, and Grant’s Tomb, and the Central Park animal zoo, and thought I was having a great time. A little friend of mine, she took me around places she’d been to and I thought I was seeing New York because I didn’t know no better. She was from a small town, too⁠—she didn’t know no better either. Only now I’ve learned.
Maxie What’s become of her? Did she go home?
Fred No, she lives here. She works for a dentist. I must call her up some time and see how she’s getting along. A Window Cleaner enters. He looks a great deal like a window cleaner. What are you going to do?
Window Cleaner Wash the windows.
Fred But we’re going to try a song here. Can’t you go somewheres else first?
Window Cleaner First! I’m pretty near through for the day. Besides, they’re singing songs all over the building. That don’t bother me.
Fred But we’re going to sing a new one for Mr. Hart.
Window Cleaner How much does a man get for writing songs?
Fred It depends on the song.
Window Cleaner Say a big hit like “Nearer My God to Thee”?
Just before Maxie can brain him, Paul comes on.
Paul Are you ready?
Fred Yah. To Maxie. Let’s do the song now.
Maxie Plenty of time.
Fred I wish Hart would come, so I can get my advance royalty check. Say, where will I get it cashed? At the American Express Company?
Maxie Or the 59th Street Bridge.
Benny Fox bounds on. He’s a songwriter of the dangerous type.
Benny Where’s Hart?
Fred He ain’t back yet.
Benny Buttonholing Maxie. I’ve got it this time! “Hello, Tokyo!” How’s that for a title? They wanted a novelty number! I guess I’ve give it to them!
Fred I and Paul have got a hit!
Paul Yeah!
Fred We think so, anyway.
Benny Paying no attention to them.

In the verse I’ve got a fella here in New York that sees a pitcher of a Japanese princess and he’s nuts over her, but he can’t afford a trip to Japan just on a chance. So he calls her up-get it? “Hello, Tokyo!” Get this! Here’s the refrain! After he calls her up! He plays and sings it, the chorus being as follows:

“Hello, hello, Tokyo!
Girlie, you’ll excuse it, please,
If I no spik Japanese.
This little call will leave me broke-o,
But I simply had to say, ‘I love you so.’
Believe me, dearie, it’s no joke-o;
I’d gladly fly through fire and smoke-o’
To share with you the marriage yok-o,
Fairest flower of Tokyo-oky-okyo!”

But that isn’t all. Paul and Fred start expectantly toward the piano as the finish approaches, but Benny double-crosses them by plunging quickly into a second chorus. This time the Window Cleaner, who has been entranced by the whole thing, starts to beat time with his sponge. He holds the sponge directly over Benny’s head, and the resulting drips do not help the second chorus any. By way of good measure, he then chimes in on the finish, winding up with one “Okyo” left over after Benny is through playing. Benny glares at him, and he turns back to his window-washing.
Benny To Maxie, when it’s all over. Well, what do you think?
Maxie It would sound better in Japanese.
Benny How about it, Paul?
Paul It’s a pretty good number.
Benny It’s a great number! Here’s another one⁠—just come to me last night!
He starts to play a refrain⁠—a melody so familiar that Maxie calmly pushes him off the bench and finishes it himself.
Benny A bit discouraged. Oh, you’re too wise! He goes.
Maxie Starting to play. All right, boys!
The Window Cleaner decides that he doesn’t want to hear this one. He opens the window, and a good gale of wind blows most of the papers off the piano.
Paul Hey!
Fred What are you trying to do?
Window Cleaner I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was blowing so hard. I’m glad I ain’t out in a boat.
Maxie

I wish you’d been on the Hesperus. The Window Cleaner climbs out the window, and presently disappears from view. Maxie and the boys plunge into “June Moon,” with Fred leading the singing.

“Summer winds are sighing in the trees, my dear;
I am sure I know what makes them sigh:
They are sad on moonlight nights like these, my dear;
They are lonely for you, same as I.
Sweetheart, how can you resist their plea,
And the moon you used to share with me?

June Moon, shining above,
Will my true love come soon?
June Moon, I am so blue;
I know that you long for her, too.
Sweet night-bird, winging aloft,
Singing a soft love tune,
Tell her to come to me here,
To me and her dear June Moon.”

As the song finishes, Edna, the girl of the prologue, quietly enters. Maxie is the first to see her.
Maxie You got an audience.
Fred None too pleased. Hello there, girlie!
Edna Ill at ease. Hello.
Fred I wasn’t expecting to see you. Ah⁠—this is⁠—you met Mr. Sears. This is Miss Baker, everybody. And this is Mr. Schwartz.
Maxie How do you do, Miss Baker?
Edna Hello. They told me to come in, but I’m afraid you’re busy.
Maxie Not a bit.
Fred We were just polishing off our number. “June Moon.”
Edna You’ve finished it, haven’t you? It’s beautiful.
Paul Eagerly. Did you like the melody?
Goldie enters; she has work to do at the music shelves.
Edna I loved it. And I love Fred’s words. I think everybody will.
Maxie Are you fond of music?
Edna I love it.
Maxie We’ll send you some good stuff. Goldie! Get Miss Baker’s address before she leaves⁠—we’ll send her some music.
Goldie Visions of more work. Oh, yeah? She goes.
Edna An embarrassed pause. I don’t want to interrupt. Maybe I’d better be going.
Maxie No, no! We’ll go. You stay right here!
Fred But look, if Mr. Hart comes in⁠—
Maxie We’ll be in Benny’s room. Goodbye, Miss Baker.
Edna Goodbye, Mr.⁠—
Maxie Schwartz. Maxie Schwartz. It’s a Greek name.
Paul and Maxie go. Fred and Edna are alone.
Edna Hello.
Fred I’m fine. Are you?
Edna We’re all alone, Fred.
Fred Huh?
Edna Nobody’s looking.
Fred Oh! He kisses her⁠—a kiss that would easily get by the censors.
Edna My, it seems nice again!
Fred You bet!
Edna Fred, what’s been the matter?
Fred Nothing. I just been busy, that’s all. I was going to call you as soon as I wasn’t busy.
Edna I thought maybe you were sick or something. I tried to call you up two mornings⁠—I mean, at your hotel⁠—and they said you couldn’t be waked up before one o’clock, I think it was.
Fred That’s only because I been up late the night before, working. We got the song all finished.
Edna It’s beautiful! I had no idea it would turn out so beautiful! It’s beautiful!
Fred We’re going to sing it for Mr. Hart as soon as he gets here.
Edna It’s a beautiful song. Up to now I felt it was sort of ours together. I mean, the way it started when we were on the train, and then you telling me how it was getting along every day, and now all of a sudden it’s finished and I haven’t got anything to do with it any more.
Fred Yes, you have. When it’s published I’ll make them put your name on the cover⁠—“Dictated to Miss Edna Baker.”
Edna Oh, Fred, I’d love that! But I’d love something else better.
Fred What’s that?
Edna It’s been two Sundays since we went anywhere together. Remember the day we took our lunch, and went over on the Palisades all day, and then in the evening we went to the amusement park and went on all the rides! We didn’t get home till pretty near twelve o’clock! And then we were going again the next Sunday, only⁠—we didn’t.
Fred But that’s because I’ve been working. I told you.
Edna You don’t have to work days and nights both.
Fred Trying to wriggle out. I have to work when Paul feels like it. Music writers don’t keep no hours⁠—they work when they’re inspired. And it ain’t just writing the songs that takes time. You have to go around places, and keep in contract with the other boys, so you get new notions. You got to keep getting new notions in this game.
Edna What kind of places do you have to go to?
Fred You know⁠—places where they have music.
Edna You mean⁠—night clubs?
Fred Some of them.
Edna Just you and Mr. Sears?
Fred Well, generally we all go together.
Edna Who else?
Fred Paul’s wife. Lucille, her name is.
Benny starts to come on; stops as he sees them.
Benny So graciously, as though the interruption had been the other way around. That’s all right. Withdraws.
Edna Doesn’t anybody else go along, to sort of even up the party?
Fred A second’s hesitation; then he blurts it out. Nobody you know! I hardly know her myself. She just comes along because she’s Lucille’s sister and lives there.
Edna Oh!
Fred You can’t leave her home by herself. She’s timid.
Edna Does she know about⁠—me, Fred?
Fred Huh?
Edna Didn’t you ever tell her about⁠—me?
Fred Well, you see, we just⁠—it’s only business, and there hasn’t nothing like that come up.
Edna What’s she like, Fred?
Fred I don’t know. She⁠—
Edna Hard at work. A girl like she has probably got lots of beautiful clothes. She probably makes little me look like nothing.
Fred That part don’t matter. It wouldn’t make no difference to me if she had all the clothes in the world. Or if she was bare, either.
Edna Is she⁠—very pretty?
Fred Yah, she⁠—I hardly ever noticed if she was pretty or not.
Edna What’s her name?
Fred Miss Fletcher.
Edna I mean her first name.
Fred I think they call her Eileen.
Edna That’s a beautiful name. It’s a lot nicer than mine, don’t you think?
Fred It’s just a different name.
Edna Is she blonde or brunette?
Fred Both⁠—I mean she’s redheaded. That is, I never paid much attention.
Edna How old is she?
Fred I don’t know.
Edna Older than I am?
Fred A little bit, I guess. I guess she must be. She’s been on the stage.
Edna Putting across a little mild horror. Honestly, Fred?
Fred Yah, but don’t think⁠—I mean, that don’t mean anything.
Edna Oh, Fred, you want to be careful! Because you take a woman like she, that’s close to forty or more⁠—
Fred She ain’t forty.
Edna Conceding two years. Well, thirty-eight. And she sees a young boy who almost any woman would be proud to win your affection, and there isn’t anything she might not stoop to, to entangle you.
Fred There won’t no woman untangle me.
Edna You can’t tell, Fred⁠—the most terrible things can happen. There was a near friend of mine, a man, and he was acquainted with a count, an international count, and he came here to New York and one night they went on a wild party and he fell in love with a beautiful chorus girl from the Metropolitan Opera Company⁠—I forgot the name of the opera. And he bought her pearls and diamonds, and in less than a week’s time he found out they was both married. That’s just what could happen to you, dear.
Fred Who found out who was married?
Edna Both of them were married⁠—the count and the girl.
Fred He must have been a fine count, not to know he was married.
Edna Fred, doesn’t it cost an awful lot of money when you go around to all these places⁠—or do they take you?
Fred Well, that part’s going to be all right, because as soon as they take our song I’ll get what they call an advance royalties. And of course after it’s a big hit I’ll have plenty of money.
Edna I see.
Fred Only the first thing I’m going to do⁠—I mean, when I get my advance royalties⁠—I’m going to pay you back that little loan.
Edna That doesn’t matter, Fred.
Fred But I don’t like owing money to a girl. Especially a girl.
Edna But it’s all right when two people are like you and I. That makes it all right. I’d give you everything I’ve got, only I’m afraid I’m not going to have very much from now on.
Fred What do you mean?
Edna I wasn’t going to tell you, but I haven’t got my position any more. I mean, with Doctor.
Fred You mean you quit?
Edna He discharged me.
Fred What for?
Edna I made a mistake. I gave Mr. Mowrey’s appointment to Mr. Treadwell, and Doctor scraped Mr. Treadwell’s bones instead of Mr. Mowrey’s.
Fred I’m terrible sorry, Eddie. Gosh, I wish there was something I could do about it.
Edna Snapping him up. There is, Fred, if you felt like doing it.
Fred What?
Edna Are you going to be busy⁠—after they hear the song?
Fred Well, I’m afraid so⁠—tonight. I got to work with Paul.
Edna Well, then, before that. After Mr. Hart hears it. Oh, Fred, couldn’t I stay and hear it too?
Fred Oh, no, Eddie. When Mr. Hart’s hearing a new number he can’t have nobody around. He’s got to consecrate.
Edna Oh!
Fred I’ll tell you what. You can wait in the reception room or somewheres, and the minute he’s heard it I’ll come and tell you what he says.
Edna Oh, Fred, that’s grand! Then can we go somewhere together for a little while? Have a soda or something?
Fred Yah, I guess so.
Edna Oh, Fred, I’m so glad! You do care a little, then? I mean, you do care whether you⁠—see me?
Fred Of course I do. Sure. Certainly.
Edna Oh, Fred! She presents herself impulsively. He kisses her. Everything seems all right again now. I don’t care about losing my position any more.
Fred Yah, but⁠—Mr. Hart finally arrives. A big man, and important-looking. He crosses the room en route to his own office. Oh, Mr. Hart! Mr. Hart!
Hart What?
Fred We’ve been waiting for you! We’re all ready!
Hart Ready with what?
Fred The new number. We’ll go through it for you if you’ll just wait a minute.
Hart What number?
Fred “June Moon.” The number I wrote with Paul Sears.
Hart Oh! Starts away.
Fred I’ll get he and Maxie and we’ll run it through for you.
Hart That’s very thoughtful. But he goes.
Fred Yes, sir. Paul! Maxie! All right, Eddie, you go in there and as soon as the song’s over I’ll come and tell you.
Edna All right, dear.
Paul Coming in. Did Hart get back?
Fred Yah! He went in there! I told him we was ready! Where’s Maxie?
Paul He’s coming! And so he does.
Maxie Well! Are we all set?
Fred He’s here, but he went in there! He came in, and I talked to him, and he went out!
Paul What do you think we better do?
Maxie How about throwing a cordon around the building? He goes into Hart’s office.
Paul Maxie’ll bring him.
Fred Trying his voice. “June Moon”⁠—Suddenly sees Edna again. All right, Eddie, we’re going to sing it now.
Edna All right, dear. I can wait happy now. She goes.
The Window Cleaner climbs through the window again.
Fred Hey! You can’t work here now!
Window Cleaner What?
Maxie comes back, bringing Hart..
Maxie Here we are!
Hart All right⁠—let’s have it. What’s the name of this song? Benny bounds on, following Hart.
Benny Are you ready, Boss?
Hart What?
Benny For “Tokyo!”
Maxie Listen, Joe⁠—these boys have been waiting since two o’clock.
Hart All right, all right. Let’s have it. What’s the name of it?
Fred “June Moon.”
Benny Bitingly. Great idea!
Goldie enters.
Goldie Pardon me, Mr. Hart. Mr. Wayburn’s on the wire.
Hart Can’t talk to him now. Go ahead, boys! What’s this song called?
Goldie He wants to know if he can use the “Java” number tonight. It’s a benefit.
Hart Who for? Him?
Goldie I think he said the Widows of Long Island Commuters.
Hart Oh, sure. Tell him he can have it if he pays for it.
Goldie Yes, sir! Goes.
Hart That’s a great number, “Java.” Great number.
Benny Yes, sir.
Hart Very much the big man. Do you boys want a sure-fire idea?
Paul Yes.
Benny Yes.
Fred Yes, sir.
Window Cleaner Just one of the boys. Yeah!
Hart Write a war song. Just have it ready⁠—in case.
Fred Is there going to be a war?
Hart Taking them all in. I won’t say yes and I won’t say no. But in this little swing around the West I had a chance to sort of feel out the common people. Grows very confidential. I’ll tell you something. I’m not a bit comfortable about the Mexican situation.
Window Cleaner Me neither.
Hart It’s a dangerous situation. I don’t like it. I don’t like it a bit. A long, low whistle from Benny. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if something happened and happened soon. And when it does, the first fellow in the field is going to clean up. You boys want to watch the papers⁠—be ready for an emergency. Not only war, but these aeroplane flights all over the place⁠—television⁠—all the big inventions. A man named Brainard comes in⁠—just a stranger. What is it?
Brainard Have you seen a couple of men?
Hart What?
Brainard Have you seen a couple of men? There’s two of them.
Hart What men?
Brainard From our office. One of them’s had his appendix out.
Hart What office? Where are you from?
Brainard Devlin, Devlin, Stewart and Devlin.
Maxie How did Stewart crash in? Marry one of the Devlin girls?
Brainard No. Only one of the Devlins has got a daughter. She’s Mrs. Carl Bishop, the architect.
Hart For God’s sake! Get out of here, will you?
Brainard But I got to find them.
Hart Well, they’re not here. What would they be doing here?
Brainard This is their day in this building.
Hart We’re busy now. Come in tomorrow.
Brainard They won’t be here tomorrow.
Hart Listen to me; I don’t know who you are or where you’re from⁠—
Goldie enters.
Goldie Beg pardon, Mr. Hart!
Hart Now what?
Goldie George Gershwin’s out there.
Hart George Gershwin!
Goldie Yes, sir.
Hart My God! He hurries out.
Fred Who is it?
Window Cleaner George Gershwin. He also hurries out.
Brainard Yeah! Brainard, after a second’s hesitation, also goes, hurrying a little. Benny is next to go.
Paul To Fred. Did you ever see him?
Fred No.
Paul He stole my rhapsody. He and Fred go.
Maxie runs a careless scale; gets up from the piano.
Goldie Aren’t you going out to see him?
Maxie Make him come to me. Goes off the other way.
Eileen and Lucille come on⁠—Eileen leads the way and seems thoroughly at home.
Eileen Where’s everybody?
Lucille Hello, Goldie.
Goldie Good afternoon, Mrs. Sears.
Eileen To Goldie. I see you’ve moved the piano.
Goldie With vast impertinence. Not me! She goes; the women are alone.
Lucille Well, here we are! Why don’t you go in and say hello to Hart?
Eileen I’d rather run into him accidentally. It looks better.
Lucille You’re not as sure of him as you let on.
Eileen Yes, I am! Why shouldn’t I be?
Lucille Well, the way he went away, in the first place. And he didn’t exactly keep the wires hot while he was gone.
Eileen He wrote to me, every place he went.
Lucille Yah, if you call picture postcards writing.
Eileen He was busy most of the time. It was a business trip.
Lucille He certainly sent you a beautiful view of the Detroit Athletic Club. Eileen glares at her. And that new waterworks in Cleveland. A man that didn’t care about you would have sent a picture of the old waterworks. He’s kind of a Latin type. Hot-blooded.
Eileen You can say all you want to. Just the same, when he finds I’ve been going out with Stevens he’s going to be insanely jealous. You watch him.
Lucille Well, maybe. But he didn’t even wire you for a date tonight. It’s the first time he hasn’t done that.
Eileen He’s taking it for granted. That’s even better.
Any prospective reply is cut short by the return of Benny..
Benny Hello, there!
Lucille Hello!
Benny George Gershwin’s outside.
Lucille Yeah?
Benny Don’t you want to meet him?
Lucille It’s too late now.
Benny No⁠—he’s still there.
Lucille Yah, but I’m not.
Benny I was telling him about my new number⁠—“Hello, Tokyo!” He said it was a great idea. But I forgot⁠—you ain’t heard it. He dashes for the piano.
Lucille It’s all right. I’ll take Gershwin’s word.
Benny He said it would make the nuckelus of a great musical show. It’s about a fella that falls in love with a pitcher of a Japanese princess, and he calls her up on the long distance phone.
Lucille Is she sitting home?
Benny Yah. Why?
Lucille I just wondered if things were the same over there.
Benny Thinking hard. Of course in a musical show he and she have got to get together. Gets a sudden idea; a snap of the fingers. I got it⁠—he flies there! That’s what he does⁠—he flies there! Now working as if in a trance. And he arrives in cherry blossom time!
Lucille Is that a record?
Benny What a part for Lindbergh, if he could sing! He goes.
Lucille We’d better be moving. We’re kind of exposed here.
Paul and Fred return.
Fred Hello, there! Gee, I’m glad to see you!
Paul Not so glad. Oh, hello!
Eileen Hello!
Paul You two can’t stay here. We’re going to do the song.
Fred Mr. Hart ain’t heard the song yet. Gee, I hope he likes it.
Eileen He’ll like it all right. Lucille and I have brought you luck.
Lucille Yah. I’m a born rabbit’s foot.
Paul We don’t need luck, with this number.
Fred To Eileen. If they take it we’ll have some celebration tonight! Won’t we!
Eileen We can decide that later. I don’t know⁠—I may not want to go out tonight.
Mr. Hart comes back. Apparently Gershwin didn’t stay long.
Paul Here we are!
Fred Oh, Mr. Hart!
Hart A little flustered; he had not counted on running into Eileen this way. Well! I didn’t know we had visitors. Hello, Lucille.
Lucille Hello.
Hart turns slowly to Eileen..
Fred Coming to the rescue. This is Miss Fletcher, Mr. Hart. Miss Fletcher’s Paul’s sister-in-law.
Hart Yes. I’ve already met Miss Fletcher.
Fred Still helping. Mr. Hart’s been off on a trip.
Eileen That’s very interesting.
Fred He’s been in all the big cities. Chicago, and Cincinnati, and Cleveland⁠—
Lucille I understand Cleveland’s got a new waterworks.
Hart looks at her, dumbly.
Fred Are you ready for our song now, Mr. Hart? I mean “June Moon”?
Hart In a minute. I’ve a little work to do.
Eileen Quickly. Fred’s been trying very hard to learn the business.
Hart Arrested. Yes?
Eileen I guess we’ve been pretty nearly every place, haven’t we, hearing the new songs?
Fred You bet! Miss Fletcher’s taken me every place. I think I know now what people want, all right.
Hart Looking at Fred with new interest. Oh! So you are a friend of Miss Fletcher’s?
Fred We ain’t been acquainted long, but⁠—well, we’re pretty good friends. To Eileen. Aren’t we?
Eileen Yah!
Hart Has a thought. Suppose you boys come into my office and we’ll run this song over.
Fred You mean right away!
Hart Yes, of course.
Fred That’s fine. Rushing to the piano. Where’s the lead sheet and the lyrics?
Paul Here they are!
Fred Shall we go right in?
Hart Yes, of course.
Fred But where’s Maxie? We got to have Maxie.
Hart I’ll send for him. Now then, who wrote this song?
Fred
Paul		 Together, as they go through the door. I did!
The women are once more alone.
Eileen Did you see that? He’s insanely jealous.
Lucille Well, if that’s jealousy I’ll take a plain lemonade.
Eileen You don’t know him the way I do! He’s burning up!
Lucille He controlled it pretty well. He didn’t say anything about a date tonight.
Eileen How could he, with Stevens here?
Maxie crosses the stage, en route to Hart’s office.
Maxie Well, it won’t be long now. He’s going to hear it at last.
Lucille Yah. We’re waiting for the verdict.
Maxie It’s Stevens’ first offense. They’ll acquit him on the grounds of insanity. He is gone.
Lucille You know, if they buy that limerick, Stevens’ll be getting up a party for tonight. He was talking about it already.
Eileen I know.
Lucille What are you going to do about him, anyhow? He’s going to be kind of a nuisance with Hart back.
Eileen I can handle him. He’s so far gone you can tell him anything.
Lucille We certainly do attract songwriters, we Fletcher girls. It’s a curse.
Eileen He’s not a bad kid. I kind of like him. And he might make a lot of money in this game. Plenty of others have done it.
Lucille Slowly. I wonder if that damned song is any good. All of Paul’s stuff sounds just alike to me.
Eileen Maybe Stevens’ lyrics are just silly enough to get over. I’ve got kind of a hunch that they are.
Lucille Even if they buy it it won’t mean anything to us. Paul’s so far ahead of his royalties they’ll never catch up. He could write Madame Butterfly and it wouldn’t even get me a new girdle.
Eileen Anyway, I’ve got Stevens broken in right, whoever gets him. You’ve got to give me credit for changing some of his ideas. I imagine every week was Thrift Week in Schenectady.
Lucille It’s Thrift Year for me. Year after year. She drops into a chair. And I’m getting pretty sick of it.
Eileen Why don’t you do something?
Lucille Well, maybe I am.
Eileen You are? What?
Lucille Shakes her head. That’s all right.
Eileen Don’t be a fool! What’s happened?
Lucille Nothing exactly yet.
Eileen Well, what’s going to happen?
Lucille I don’t know. Nothing.
Eileen Pleading. Will you tell me?
Lucille Makes up her mind. Remember⁠—Ed Knowlton?
Eileen Yes. What about him?
Lucille I ran into him Friday, on Madison Avenue.
Eileen Why didn’t you tell me?
Lucille Because I knew what you’d say and I wanted to think it out for myself.
Eileen What’s it all about? What’s he doing here?
Lucille He’s left Chicago for good. They’re living on East Fifty-seventh⁠—he and his wife and the two kids.
Eileen Well?
Lucille He still likes me, and I like him.
Eileen Has he got any money?
Lucille He makes a lot, but he spends it.
Eileen If he likes you that’s not a fatal drawback.
Lucille He likes me all right.
Eileen Can he get rid of her?
Lucille Shakes her head. No, it’s her uncle or something owns the business. But he saw I wasn’t happy, and⁠—well, we had a couple of drinks and talked. He kept saying I ought to have nice things⁠—and that he was willing to give them to me.
Eileen Don’t tell me you aren’t going to do it?
Lucille I’m kind of afraid. Suppose Paul gets inquisitive?
Eileen Paul! He doesn’t know silk from asbestos. To hell with him anyway! It’s time you had some luck!
Lucille I don’t know what to do. You and I look at things different. But Ed’s so nice. The things he says they make me feel young again. And it’s such a relief to just talk to a man that hates music!
Eileen Listen, if you don’t do this⁠—
Fred runs on, all excitement.
Fred They’re going to take it! They’ve took it! They’re crazy about it!
Eileen Well, that’s fine! I knew they’d like it!
Fred It’s my first song! My first one to be published!
Eileen That’s wonderful.
Lucille Wildly unenthusiastic. It’s quite thrilling.
Fred They’re making me out a check for two hundred and fifty dollars! That’s just what they call an advance royalties!
Paul returns.
Paul They took it all right!
Lucille So Fred said.
Eileen Yes!
Paul You should have heard what Hart said about the melody.
Fred To Eileen. Aren’t you glad about the song? Aren’t you excited?
Eileen Her mind beyond the door. I should say so.
Hart comes in.
Hart Expansively. Well, what do you think of this young man? Making good in his first attempt!
Eileen It’s wonderful!
Lucille Yes, indeed.
Hart And Paul, too. He’s written a nice little melody. Did you get your check, Stevens?
Fred No, sir. Not yet.
Hart Goldie’ll bring it to you.
Maxie Crossing to his own office. Well, thought you people would be on your way by this time.
Eileen We are waiting for Fred’s check!
Maxie I’ll bet you are! He’s gone.
Fred Mr. Hart! We were all planning on going some place tonight, to celebrate the success of the song. We’d love to have you come along with us, if you can.
A moment of embarrassment. Eileen just waits.
Hart Well, now, I’d like to do that, but I’m very sorry. Hart starts talking to Fred, but shifts his gaze to Eileen. You see, I just got back from this trip, and I’m tied up with Mr. Goebel tonight.
Fred Oh, that’s too bad.
Eileen With more meaning. Yes, it is.
Hart I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Can’t tell you how much I’d like to be along. But of course, business comes first.
A very beautiful young lady enters. Her name is Miss Rixey..
Miss Rixey Hello, Joe. Am I late?
Hart After clearing his throat. Miss Rixey, isn’t it?
Miss Rixey Puzzled at this reception. What?
Hart Ah⁠—they told me you were coming.
Miss Rixey Coming right to him. You knew damn well I was coming!
Hart Still trying to cover up. Did you bring those orchestrations?
Miss Rixey Holding up a bundle which obviously contains two bottles of liquor. You mean this?
Hart Sunk by this time; grabs her by arm and rushes her into his office. Ah⁠—just step into my office and we’ll talk business.
Miss Rixey Listen, Joe, that driver of yours is so damn dumb⁠—
Hart Loudly. Yes, we publish that! Right this way!
Lucille Airily, when they are gone. Well, well, well!
Fred It’s too bad he can’t go, but the four of us can have a good time.
Eileen Recklessly. Have a good time! You bet we can! We’re going to have the best time any crowd ever had! Aren’t we, Freddy boy? Throws her arms around him and kisses him.
Fred We sure are, girlie!
Goldie comes on.
Goldie Here’s your check, Mr. Stevens.
Paul Great!
Eileen Hooray! Here’s the check! She takes it.
Fred Just in time!
Eileen Two hundred and fifty dollars! You’ve just got to give me a great big kiss!
Lucille Oh, you two!
Eileen Do you love me?
Fred You bet I do!
Lucille Where’ll we go for dinner?
Paul I want a good steak.
Eileen How about the Park Casino?
Lucille Oh, fine! I’ve never been there! I hear it’s marvellous!
Eileen They’ve got the most wonderful band! You’ll love it, Freddie boy!
Fred I will if you’re along!
Eileen I’m going to be, don’t you worry about that! Wherever you are, that’s where I’m going to be!
Fred That suits me all right!
Eileen Come on, everybody!
Paul Don’t forget we got to cash the check.
Eileen Waving the check. I should say not! We’re not going to forget that, are we, Freddie boy?
Fred You bet we aren’t!
They are gone; Goldie alone is left. She picks out some songs from the shelves. Edna, the girl he left behind him, peeps in, then enters.
Edna Do you know if they’ve heard Mr. Stevens’s song yet? I mean “June Moon”?
Goldie Pretty hard-boiled. Yah. They did.
Edna Starting brightly forward. Was it all right? Did they like it?
Goldie Surveying her. They took it.
Edna In pleased excitement. Really! Where are they? Still in there?
Goldie Not any more. They’ve all gone.
Edna What?
Goldie They went out just a couple of minutes ago.
Edna Mr.⁠—Stevens, too?
Goldie Yah. With Mr. Sears and the two girls.
Edna Oh!⁠ ⁠… Thank you very much.
Goldie takes a moment to look her up and down, then goes. Edna stands stock still for a moment, stunned. The door opens and the Window Cleaner returns, sponge still in hand. He looks at Edna a bit curiously; the scrutiny is more than she can stand. All she can do is rush out.
The room belongs to the Window Cleaner, and maybe he doesn’t realize it. He scampers over to the piano and hits a few tentative notes. Resigning himself to a musical career, he drops his sponge on the window sill and starts picking out the notes of “Hello, Tokyo!” Encouraged by his success with the first phrase, he starts again, this time singing it. Then he takes a long breath and starts again, louder this time. He is plunging recklessly into it, and oblivious of his surroundings, when Maxie comes in behind him. Maxie stands perfectly still for a second, taking in the situation. Then he makes up his mind. Turn about, he decides, is fair play. He picks up the sponge and starts feverishly washing the window.
The Curtain Falls.

Act III

The scene is still at Goebel’s⁠—the time about a month later. Goldie comes on and goes to the music racks. While she is searching for songs, Benny enters. Except that Benny never just enters⁠—he shoots on.

Benny Where’s Hart?
Goldie He’s out somewhere.
Benny Did you tell him I wanted to see him?
Goldie Yes, but he was on his way out.
Benny What did he say?
Goldie Nothing. He just hurried.
Benny I’ve got to see him. I’ve got a number that will knock his eye out.
Goldie Like “Tokyo?”
Benny Don’t kid me about “Tokyo.” If ever a man got a crooked deal! Listen⁠—
Goldie I’ve heard it.
Benny You ain’t heard it all because I didn’t know it myself till last night. Harry Ruby told me at the Friars. It seems that the night I played it there, there was a fella named Stein hanging around.
Goldie Incredulous. At the Friars?
Benny Well, he hears my number, and he tells these other fellas, and they turn out their damn “Hello, Shanghai!” and beat me to it. It’s increditable, but that’s what happened. And on top of that Maxie says their number is better than mine because Shanghai’s further away than Tokyo. I’ll kill the two of them the first time I get them alone together, I don’t care if they got a thousand friends with them. And that ain’t all. They stole my song and I’m going to sue them for perjury.
Goldie I think you’ll get it.
Benny And it wasn’t only a song they stole⁠—it was a whole production. A musical comedy. That’s where the big money is. And that’s what I’m going to get into. I’ll tell you something. Confidentially. I’m not going to be with Goebel’s much longer.
Goldie I heard that.
Benny Who from?
Goldie Mr. Goebel.
Benny You couldn’t⁠—he doesn’t know it yet.
Goldie Oh!
Benny I’m quitting and they can see how they like that. They can get along with Stevens and his brilliant ideas. “June Moon!” The lucky saphead!
Goldie It was on at five different stations last night.
Benny The oldest idea in the world! And I write a great novelty number and it’s stole off me!
Paul arrives.
Paul To Goldie. Have you seen Stevens?
Benny Want to hear a great song?
Paul Still to Goldie. Have you?
Goldie He hasn’t come in.
Benny Get this, Paul! Tell me if you don’t think it’ll slaughter them! Benny hits one chord; Hart enters. Hello, Boss! You’re just in time!
Hart A wave of the hand that takes care of Benny for the moment. Where’s Stevens? Is he in yet?
Paul I’m waiting for him myself.
Hart To Goldie. Call his hotel. See if he’s there.
Goldie I did a while ago. He was out.
Hart See if they know where to get a hold of him. Goldie goes. She loves her work, this girl. How are you coming with the new numbers?
Paul Uncomfortably. Pretty good, only Fred don’t seem to want to work lately. He was going to meet me here at eleven.
Hart He ought to be getting busy. He’s not going to work on his honeymoon.
Paul No, sir.
Hart When he comes in, tell him I’d like to see him.
Paul Yes, sir. He goes out.
Benny Stopping Hart before he can escape. Listen, Mr. Hart! It won’t take me two minutes to show you this number. It’s sure to hit you.
Hart Anything like “Tokyo”?
Benny I had a tough break on that, Mr. Hart⁠—that “Hello, Shanghai.” Why, do you know what? There ain’t even a telephone between New York and Shanghai!
Hart Well, we’ll have one put in. Maxie comes on. Oh, Maxie, I was just going to send for you. There’s a young fellow outside who has written a song.
Maxie Who is it?
Hart That’s just the point. Somebody my sister-in-law sent, so do whatever you can for him. He’s only sixteen years old.
Maxie And still grinding them out?
Hart It’s probably one of those things, but you know⁠—you never can tell. Anything can happen, after “June Moon.”
Maxie As long as you’ve brought that up, would you mind answering me a riddle?
Hart What is it?
Maxie Did you have any idea that was going to be a hit? Honestly, now?
Hart Hesitantly. Well, I’ll tell you, Maxie⁠—
Maxie Starts to leave. That’s all I wanted to know.
Hart Do whatever you can for the lad, Maxie. He came all the way from Plainfield.
Maxie He’ll get home safe. He goes.
Benny Still trying. Listen, Mr. Hart, won’t you hear this?
Hart Hear what?
Benny This number. The title is “Give Our Child a Name.” It’ll make “June Moon” sound like a dirge. It’s a couple that give birth to a little one in two-four tempo.
Hart It won’t do you any good knocking Stevens’s number.
Benny

I ain’t knocking his lousy number, but get this, Mr. Hart! He jumps to the piano.

“Should a father’s carnal sins
Blight the life of babykins?
All I ask is give our child a⁠—”

His hands descend on the keyboard in an annoyed discord as Fred and Eileen enter.
Hart Well! Here’s the groom at last!
Benny goes, banging the door behind him.
Eileen You can blame it on me. I’ve been making him get some new clothes.
Hart Well, you two are certainly to be congratulated.
Eileen Thanks.
Fred Much obliged.
Hart But don’t forget your work. When do you sail?
Eileen Saturday.
Fred We sail Saturday.
Hart Having his bit of fun. I certainly envy you. I wish I could go along.
Fred There’s no chance, I suppose?
Hart Not at this time of year. Visibly enjoying the situation. If you could postpone it a month⁠—
Fred Brightening. Yah, that might be a good idea!
Eileen Don’t be silly!
Fred I forgot. Eileen wants to be on the Riveeria in the season.
Hart I see. Well, I hope they don’t take you at Monte Carlo.
Fred If they don’t take us there we can go somewheres else.
Hart Anyhow, be sure to get your work done. He starts to go.
Eileen Oh, Mr. Hart!
Hart Yes?
Eileen Fred wants to speak to you about something else.
Fred Quickly. No, I don’t.
Eileen But you do, dear.
Fred I’ll ask you later.
Hart Is anything the matter?
Fred No, no! It wasn’t⁠—I just⁠—
Hart Well, I’ll be in my office, if you want me. He leaves.
Eileen Why didn’t you ask him when you had a chance?
Fred Weakly. They’ve advanced me so much already.
Eileen But sweetheart, you promised me. You said you’d ask him today.
Fred I will after while. I got to find Paul now⁠—I got to go to work.
Eileen Oh, don’t go to work yet. You never have any time for me. You don’t realize I want to be loved once in a while.
Fred I held your hand in the taxi.
Eileen Just think! Only three more days till we belong to each other. Isn’t it marvellous!
Fred It’s four, ain’t it?
Eileen Four till we sail. Only three till we get married.
Fred I wished it wasn’t quite so soon.
Eileen What?
Fred I mean, on account of those two numbers.
Eileen Don’t forget⁠—you’re to ask him for a thousand dollars advance on each of them.
Fred But that’s too much! I’ve borrowed thirty-five hundred dollars off them already on “June Moon”⁠—maybe more than my royalties will amount to altogether.
Eileen Don’t be ridiculous! That number will still be selling when you’re dead.
Fred I won’t care so much then.
Eileen Your children will. Fred is embarrassed. Don’t you want children, dear?
Fred I don’t get along with them very good.
Eileen You would with your own.
Fred No. I figure I’d get along better with other people’s, because they’d go home once in a while.
Eileen We needn’t think of that now. Let’s just think of you and me, all alone on that big boat.
Fred We won’t be alone. The fella said it would be pretty near full.
Eileen But we don’t have to see anybody. A bride and groom don’t generally go around much⁠—they’re supposed to be so awfully in love.
Fred I’ll want to eat once in a while.
Eileen They’ll serve us in our cabin.
Fred It’ll be kind of close quarters. Maybe I could go in the dining-room and order you a meal sent up.
Eileen And leave me all alone? I’d be scared to death.
Fred It’s just as dangerous in the dining-room as the bedroom. If the ship sinks, pretty near all the rooms will be under water.
Eileen Let’s not think about such things. Just think of the pleasant side. London and Paris⁠—I’m glad we’re going to Paris first, so I can get some clothes.
Fred Clothes? What have you been buying?
Eileen They’re all right for the ship, dear, but not the Riviera. Don’t you want to be proud of me⁠—the way I look?
Fred But if you’re going to stay in your cabin all the time you won’t need nothing but a Mother Hubbard.
Maxie comes back; Eileen automatically starts to go.
Maxie Well! All ready for the big trip?
Fred Pretty near. The boat sails Saturday.
Maxie I don’t know what you want to go to Europe for.
Eileen Bristling. Why not?
Maxie Because he’s never been there. A songwriter never goes anywhere for the first time⁠—they’re always going back to places. Back to Indiana⁠—back, back to Baltimore.
Eileen Annoyed. Fred, are you going to talk to Mr. Hart?
Fred Yes, ma’am.
Eileen Well, this would be a good time. She goes, in about medium dudgeon.
Fred I’d like to be going back, back to Schenectady, but Eileen’s got her heart set on Europe.
Maxie I hear it’s quite a place.
Fred Yes, I guess so. I was kind of excited about it at first, but now I don’t know⁠—I don’t want to go so bad. I’m kind of tired, I guess⁠—the way we been going it lately. I’m kind of behind on my sleep.
Maxie Appraisingly. But you’ve been having a lot of fun. All those night clubs.
Fred I did at first⁠—dancing and everything⁠—but now my feet’s so sore I have to take a bath every day. You might as well take a whole bath as just your feet. And they ache so I can’t sleep in them. Gosh, I’m so tired all the time. I don’t have time to sleep, anyway. We shop till the stores is closed, and then we get dressed up for dinner and the evening. If I don’t get some rest soon I’ll have a nervous breakup. And everything costs so much. Eileen wants a taxi if she’s only going in the other room.
Maxie This trip to Europe⁠—that’s going to be kind of expensive, too, ain’t it?
Fred Yes. I always thought I’d save my money, if I ever got any.
Maxie You picked out a thrifty girl, all right.
Fred I kind of get thinking sometimes, maybe a man like I that’s just breaking in, maybe he shouldn’t get married so soon, especially a woman that’s got to have so many clothes. Sometimes I think it would be better if I hadn’t got engaged.
Maxie Feeling his way. I read of a case once, in Michigan, where a man was engaged to a girl and didn’t marry her.
Fred I didn’t read that. Have you got the clippings?
Maxie No. But my memory’s pretty good. For instance, I remember a mighty nice little girl that was here to see you one time. I even remember her name⁠—Miss Baker.
Fred Nervously. Maxie, you haven’t seen her or anything, have you?
Maxie The picture of innocence. Me? No. Why?
Fred Uneasily. I guess I shouldn’t be thinking of her at a time like this⁠—
Maxie Are you?
Fred I don’t know. Sometimes I⁠—
Goldie enters, bound for those same old music shelves. It is a welcome interruption so far as Fred is concerned.
Fred I got to find Paul. I got to do some work. He withdraws.
Maxie Looking after him. Just one of the Happiness boys⁠—he and Pagliacco.
Goldie With her songs. Mother song and mother song⁠—why don’t they ever write about their uncle?
Maxie Thoughtfully. Suppose I told you I was thinking of doing something about him?
Goldie What?
Maxie Suppose I went even further and told you I’d already done it?
Goldie What are you talking about?
Maxie I’m talking about a little girl that came in here to see Stevens about a month ago. The one you sent the music to.
Goldie Oh!
Maxie She’s the one he ought to be marrying, instead of this whatever-she-is.
Goldie With monumental indifference. My God, what’s the difference who marries a lyric writer? She goes.
Maxie stands a moment, deep in thought. He drifts to the piano⁠—aimlessly, instinctively. Drops onto the bench; his fingers slide over the keys. But he is not thinking about his music.
And then Lucille enters. A new Lucille, patently. She wears a gorgeous red dress, topped off with a coat of the same material, trimmed in white fur. But it’s not only the clothes. She has that note of assurance that only the perfectly dressed woman can have. She comes into the room slowly, confidently.
Maxie As he looks her over. Hello.
Lucille Where’s everybody?
Maxie Paul’s outside somewhere. I think he’s working.
Lucille Has Eileen been here?
Maxie She’s around.
Lucille Thanks.
Maxie All dressed up today.
Lucille Not especially.
Maxie You look like a bride yourself.
Lucille gives a visible start; the situation is saved by the entrance of Eileen..
Eileen Hello! I thought I saw you!
Maxie Well, I’ve got to get busy, if you’ll excuse me. He goes.
Eileen Observing the dress. Oh, say, it’s a peach!
Lucille Do you like it?
Eileen You bet! She lowers her voice. Have you got a date?
Lucille I think so. I’m to phone his office later on. She is not at ease.
Eileen A look at her watch. What do you say we have lunch?
Lucille Wait a minute.
Eileen What’s the matter?
Lucille I don’t want to go out there yet.
Eileen Why not?
Lucille I don’t feel like running into Paul.
Eileen Aren’t you ever going to get over that? What is there to be afraid of?
Lucille I don’t know. I’m just nervous.
Eileen He’ll never guess anything. He’s blind and always has been.
Lucille Thanks!
Eileen You know what I mean. All he thinks about’s his tunes. We’ve got a chance to be happy, you and I⁠—for a while, anyhow. Let’s take it!
Lucille You’re a funny one to figure out.
Eileen Why?
Lucille Taking up with Stevens this way. You always lectured me about Paul⁠—his being a songwriter. And now you’re going to go and do the same thing.
Eileen Stevens is different. He’s a nice kid. Of course, he’s not exactly what you’d call⁠—bright.
Lucille Bright? He’s not even born yet.
Paul enters.
Paul Oh, hello.
Lucille Hello.
Paul What’s that⁠—a new dress?
Lucille A silly question. This?
Eileen Sensing a storm. I’ll meet you outside, Lucille.
Lucille Wait a minute⁠—I’ll go with you.
Paul No, I want to talk to you.
Lucille Scared. What?
Paul A look at Eileen. Stay in here a minute.
Lucille What for?
Eileen I’ll go on out. I want to talk to Fred. She escapes, and glad of the chance.
Lucille What’s the matter?
Paul On the dress again. That is new, isn’t it?
Lucille Don’t you think it’s about time?
Paul How much was it?
Lucille It won’t come due for a while. I may take care of it myself.
Paul I can take care of it, if it ain’t too soon.
Lucille I’ve got to go on out. Eileen’s waiting.
Paul Hold on! Lucille turns, not knowing what to expect. That’s what I want to talk to you about.
Lucille What?
Paul About her and Fred.
Lucille In vast relief. Oh!
Paul She’s got him so he can’t hardly work at all. I don’t know when we’re going to finish the new numbers.
Lucille Of course you can finish them.
Paul But taking him off on this trip! It’s going to cost him a million dollars. And just when we’re beginning to work good together!
Lucille You can write other numbers while he’s gone.
Paul But that ain’t the point. I mean⁠—do you think we ought to do it?
Lucille Do what?
Paul Do you think they ought to go ahead and get married? He’s a hell of a nice guy⁠—I’ve kind of got to like him.
Lucille What of it? Eileen’s a nice girl.
Paul But⁠—you know what I mean. Isn’t it kind of a dirty trick⁠—I mean, after the way Eileen⁠—Lucille gives him a sharp look. Well, Hart and everything?
Lucille In a low tone. You ought to have more sense.
Paul Just the same, I don’t feel right about it. And the way she’s throwing his money around⁠—like it was confetti. Spending every nickel she can get on herself! Clothes, clothes⁠—
Lucille You can’t go to Europe in a life belt.
Paul Do you know what she spent in one afternoon, yesterday? Close to four hundred dollars. He pretty near cried when he told me. And I don’t blame him. He’s too nice a kid.
Lucille She doesn’t spend that every day.
Paul She shouldn’t have spent it at all. You should have had more sense than to let her.
Lucille Flaring a little. How could I stop her? I wasn’t there!
Paul Yes, you were! You were with her all afternoon.
Lucille Quickly covering herself. Oh, yes. I thought you meant the day before.
Paul It was Sunday, the day before.
Lucille Yah⁠—I just mixed up, that’s all.
Paul Anyhow, something ought to be done about it. She’s got him in debt enough.
Lucille Nervously. I’ll talk to her about it. Starts out. Don’t you say anything to her. Don’t say anything about⁠—I mean, what she spent yesterday afternoon. I’ll go and talk to her. She gets away.
Paul stands in thought for a moment; then he starts to go. Benny catches him in the act.
Benny Can you listen to that number?
Paul What?
Benny Can you hear that number now?
Paul Aw⁠—I got to work, Benny. Goes.
Goldie immediately enters.
Benny Where’s Hart?
Goldie Can’t you think up a new question?
Benny Where is he?
Goldie He’s out getting a permanent. And she goes.
Benny almost gives up; is about to leave. But then there arrives the beautiful young woman known as Miss Rixey. She heads for Hart’s door.
Benny Without much hope. Say, do you want to hear a new song?
Miss Rixey Sure!
Benny Bowled over by this answer. What?
Miss Rixey I said sure.
Benny Darts to the piano and starts.

“Should a father’s carnal sins
Blight the life of babykins?
All I ask is give our child⁠—”

But Miss Rixey has not waited. Something about the rhythm has caught her ear, and she has simply gone into her dance. It has expressed itself in the form of a neat Off-to-Buffalo, right through the door and into Hart’s office. And perhaps further.
Benny sits looking after her, stunned. As he does so Edna enters⁠—a bit uncertainly, as is her wont, but she enters.
Benny Willing to take anything. Hello, kid.
Edna Hello.
Benny Want to see somebody?
Edna I’ll be going.
Benny

Wait⁠—you want to hear a great song? You know who I am, don’t you? I’m Benny Fox, the hit-writer. I write words and music both. I’m like Berlin, only more pathetic. Now I got a new one. It’s about a couple that have a baby without benefit to a clergyman, and you can dance to it. He plays it.

“Should a father’s carnal sins
Blight the life of babykins?
All I ask is give our child a name⁠—I mean a last name.
I don’t ask to share your life,
Live with you as man and wife;
All I ask is give our child a name⁠—
Not just a first name.”

Maxie comes on. Hello, Maxie. I’ll start over so you can get this.

“Should a father’s carnal sins⁠—

Maxie Looking at Edna. Wait a minute! Isn’t this⁠—Miss Baker?
Edna And you’re Mr. Schwartz.
Maxie Correct!
Benny

Come on, Maxie! Get a load of this!

“Should a father’s carnal sins⁠—”

Maxie Go back to your cell! We want to talk!
Benny But she wants to hear this number!
Maxie Gets an idea. Listen! You don’t know who she is.
Benny No.
Maxie Well! Remember what happened to “Tokyo.” It’s a case of the burnt child. Benny scoots out, throwing a look back at Edna as he goes. My, but I’m glad to see you!
Edna It’s nice of you to say so, anyway.
Maxie I guess it was kind of nervy of me, calling you up that way. Hope you didn’t mind.
Edna Why⁠—no. I⁠—I thought it was very friendly.
Maxie Of course it isn’t really any of my business exactly, but⁠—nobody else was doing anything, so I thought I would. Probably you can guess who it’s about.
Edna Tell me about him! What’s happened? What’s happened to him?
Maxie Do you mind if I ask a question? I think I know the answer.
Edna What?
Maxie You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Edna turns away. You know, you can tell me. I’m for you⁠—I want to help you. You do⁠—love him? Edna nods. Enough to keep him from⁠—ruining himself?
Edna How do you mean?
Maxie He’s engaged to be married. You know that?
Edna I⁠—supposed that was it.
Maxie But he’s not happy. He’s not in love with her.
Edna Breaking out. I can’t do anything! He doesn’t love me! He never did!
Maxie Somebody’s got to do something. He’s not a fellow that can think for himself. They left that out.
Edna Oh, why did you make me come here? I shouldn’t have done it⁠—I don’t know why I did! I’ve been trying every way to forget him⁠—I went away, and I didn’t see anybody, and then I went around with lots of people⁠—it only made it worse. I kept wanting to call him up, and once I did, only⁠—I hung up before he could come to the telephone.
Maxie Let me bring him in here.
Edna No, no! I don’t want to talk to him! I mustn’t!
Maxie But he’s in trouble. And you’re the only one that can help him.
Edna He don’t want to see me!
Maxie Let me tell him you’re here. It can’t do any harm. Edna is silent. You needn’t answer. Only promise me one thing.
Edna What?
Maxie No matter what happens, come and see me afterward. Will you? Edna nods. The second door on the left, down that hall. Maxie goes. Edna is alone for a moment. Two moments, even. Then a pretty excited Fred comes on.
Fred Hello, Eddie.
Edna Hello.
Fred I’m awful glad to see you, Eddie! Gee, but I’m glad to see you!
Edna I didn’t really come to⁠—I mean, it was Mr. Schwartz that made me talk to you.
Fred My, but it’s great to see you again! I didn’t know how great it would be.
Edna I’m glad to see you, too, Fred. I’m glad you’re well and that you’re going to be⁠—happy.
Fred I been thinking about you, Eddie an awful lot, lately. I been waking up in the morning, thinking about you.
Edna Are you waking up in the morning again, Fred?
Fred I been going to call you up to tell you about it. We used to have a lot of fun together. Eagerly. Remember that day in Van Cortlandt Park when I lost my watch and that little boy found it?
Edna You gave him a nickel.
Fred It was a dime. And he said, “Keep it and buy your wife a raddio set.” He thought we was married. He laughs, as though trying to induce a mood of merriment in Edna.
Edna I remember.
Fred You was embarrassed, all right. You got red.
Edna Any girl would.
Fred And then coming back we forgot to change at Seventy-second Street. That is, you forgot. I didn’t know any better.
Edna I just wasn’t thinking.
Fred We had to go all the way down to Times Square. That’s when we saw the flea circus.
Edna You said one of the fleas reminded you of a man in Schenectady.
Fred Yeah. Perry Robinson. He always walked like he’d just picked up a nail. Fred drops the pretense and comes out with it. Eddie, did Maxie say anything to you? About me.
Edna In agony. He said you were going to be married, Fred. I should have congratulated you.
Fred Suddenly. I don’t want to any more, Eddie! I know it now! I don’t want to!
Edna Don’t say that, Fred! Don’t! Don’t say it unless you mean it! I couldn’t stand it!
Fred But I do mean it, Eddie! I mean it more than anything in the⁠—
Eileen comes on. You knew she would.
Eileen Rather gaily. I’m sorry.
Fred As Edna shows signs of bolting. No⁠—don’t go away. This is⁠—Miss Fletcher.
Eileen Appraisingly. Hello.
Fred And this is Miss Baker. She’s the little girl⁠—I mean, I used to know her when⁠—
Edna Who can’t stand it. I’ll be going if you don’t mind. Goodbye, Fred.
Fred No⁠—look! Don’t go away!
Edna Yes, I must! I⁠—goodbye, Miss Fletcher! She rushes off. Fred hesitates for a second; then starts out after her.
Eileen Fred!
Fred Stopping short. Huh?
Eileen Why, what’s the matter with you? One would almost think it was her you were going to marry instead of me.
Fred Facing her. I got to tell you something.
Eileen Why, what is it?
Fred I don’t want to get married! I mean⁠—you and I!
Eileen Do you know what you’re saying?
Fred I can’t help it! I shouldn’t ever have done it! I didn’t realize!
Eileen Well! This is a fine time to tell me! Why didn’t you wait till Friday!
Fred I just now realized it!
Eileen I see! And you think all you have to do is tell me and that settles it. Well, it doesn’t work quite that way!
Fred What?
Eileen You think I’m going to stand by and let you throw me over for that little snip!
Fred She is not!
Eileen Not by a damned sight! I’ll sue her for alienation⁠—that’s what I’ll do.
Fred You can’t. She was born right here in New York State!
Eileen You seem to have forgotten something! Did you beg me to marry you or didn’t you?
Fred But I didn’t know then.
Eileen You seem to have forgotten that I was engaged to another man, and that you took me away from him! What about that?
Fred I can’t help it.
Eileen A change of method. But that isn’t the main thing. I love you, Freddy. You made me love you. I didn’t at first, but you made me. And now you want to leave me.
Fred But you don’t want me to marry you, if I feel that way.
Eileen What would you think of a man that made a girl love him, when she was already engaged, and then threw her over? Do you think that would be quite⁠—honorable?
Fred With sudden inspiration. Honorable! That’s just what I got to be! That’s why I can’t marry you!
Eileen What do you mean?
Fred I mean I got to marry another girl, to save her from⁠—from worse than death.
Eileen That little kid? A gesture.
Fred Yes!
Eileen You mean you’ve got her in trouble?
Fred Yes! That’s it!
Eileen I don’t believe you! I’m going to call her back!
Fred Stopping her. No, no! You mustn’t tell her that!
Eileen Why not?
Fred I⁠—I want to surprise her.
Eileen A scornful surveying. Did you think I was going to fall for any story like that? Fred turns away. I’m the one you’re engaged to, and I’m the one you’re going to marry.
Paul comes in.
Paul Not interrupting, am I?
Eileen Slowly, and narrowly observing Fred. No, I was just going. With great deliberation. We understand each other. Don’t we? She watches Fred; gets no response; goes out.
Paul What’s the matter?
Fred Dully. Huh?
Paul You haven’t had a fight, have you?
Fred Shakes his head. There ain’t anything the matter.
Paul I thought maybe we might get after one of those numbers.
Fred I don’t feel much like working.
Paul I’m sorry if anything’s happened.
Fred It ain’t nothing. I’ll be all right soon.
Paul The only thing is⁠—there isn’t much time left if we’re going to finish before you go. Here it is Tuesday.
Fred How about starting in early tomorrow morning?
Paul What are you doing this afternoon?
Fred I got to go to the French passport place.
Paul I thought you went there yesterday.
Fred I couldn’t. I told you I went with Eileen while she was shopping.
Paul Oh, yah. Four hundred dollars.
Fred She certainly knows how to spend.
Paul Lightly. You must have had a swell time, running around with two women all afternoon.
Fred No, I wasn’t. What two women?
Paul Her and Lucille.
Fred Lucille wasn’t along. Just I and Eileen.
Paul Yesterday?
Fred Nods. We was together from one till five-thirty. Why?
Paul Trying to fit things together. Nothing, only⁠—and it was yesterday she spent the four hundred?
Fred It was three eighty-seven.
Paul That’s funny.
Fred What’s the matter?
Paul Slowly. I don’t know. I guess I got things kind of mixed up.
Fred What things?
Paul Didn’t Lucille ever meet you, during the afternoon?
Fred No. Why?
Eileen and Lucille look in.
Lucille We’re going out to lunch. Want to come along?
Paul Almost too casually. I want to talk to you.
Lucille What?
Paul I said I want to talk to you.
Lucille What about?
Eileen Catching a note of something in Paul’s manner. What’s the matter with him?
Paul Where were you yesterday afternoon?
Lucille Trying to do some quick thinking. I was⁠—out.
Paul Quiet, but terrifying. I said, where were you?
Lucille Do I have to report all my movements?
Paul You do when I catch you lying! Where were you?
Fred is following this with wide but uncomprehending eyes. Eileen is scared but wary, waiting to go to the defense if she can.
Lucille I had an engagement! It was⁠—with an old friend of mine, and I thought you might not want me to do it, and so I told you I was with Eileen.
Fred Beginning to understand. Oh!
Lucille I know it was foolish of me! I was going to tell you later.
Eileen She was going to tell you tonight! She told me so.
Lucille Yah!
Paul Yah? After another terrible pause. Where’d you get that dress?
Lucille What? I bought it.
Eileen I treated her to it, if you want to know.
Paul Is that so? That wasn’t what you told me.
Lucille I was afraid you wouldn’t let me take it.
Paul After a bit of thinking. Where’d you go, yesterday afternoon? With this fellow?
Lucille We went to a matinée.
Paul On a Monday?
Lucille It was at the Palace. We went to the Palace.
Paul Taking plenty of time. Who was there?
Lucille What?
Paul On the bill. Who were the headliners?
Lucille Panic in her voice. I don’t see what difference that makes.
Paul Not raising his tone. You⁠—dirty⁠—lying⁠—double-crosser!
Eileen That’s not true!
Lucille Stopping Eileen. Keep still! I’m sick of the whole thing! She faces Paul. Yes!⁠ ⁠… Yes, if you want to know!⁠ ⁠… Yes and to hell with you! Did you think I was going to wait around forever for you to give me the things I wanted? God knows I waited long enough! And then⁠—I just didn’t wait any longer, that’s all. What do you know about that? Huh? What do you know about that? Paul is stunned. Turns slowly away. So⁠—that’s the way that stands! She takes a step toward the door; breaks into sobs. Eileen goes to her; puts her arm around her.
Fred But⁠—but you mean to say that when you were married to him⁠—He takes a moment, trying to realize it. Then, to Eileen. But you must have known she was doing it!
Eileen What? Why⁠—no, I didn’t.
Fred Yes. You said you bought her the dress.
Paul A scornful laugh. Known she was doing it! She put her up to it!
Eileen That’s not true!
Paul No? Well, then I’ll tell you something that is true!
Eileen Don’t you believe him, Fred!
Paul And thank God I’ve got the courage to tell you at last!
Eileen He’s a liar, that’s what he is! I tell you he’s a liar!
Fred Why, what is it?
Paul You didn’t know your fiancée had a lover, did you?
Fred What?
Eileen I tell you it’s a lie. He’s just trying to separate us!
Paul Am I?
Eileen He’s just making it up!
Paul She told you she was engaged to be married! Well, she wasn’t! He was her lover, and he kicked her out, and that’s why she took up with you! I’d have told you long ago, if I hadn’t been a coward!
Fred Staggered. Turns to Eileen. Is this true?
Eileen In final realization that the game is up. Of course it is, you little fool!
Fred Gosh!
Eileen That’s probably a pretty big shock to those fine upstate morals of yours.
Fred Then I been going around all this time with a⁠—bad woman?
Eileen And now have we both got permission to go, or does somebody else want to speak? Spotting Edna, who has been brought on the scene by Maxie. Maybe your little girlfriend would like to say a few words?
Fred If she does, she’ll say them to me. And I’ll know I can believe them, too.
Eileen I’m sure you’ll understand each other. What’s more, you’re probably the only two people in the world that would. Come on, Lucille. She surveys the lovers. I want to come and visit that child of yours⁠—next month. Lucille and Eileen go.
Paul has dropped into a chair, his head buried in his hands.
Fred Turning to where Edna and Maxie stand. Eddie, I⁠—I don’t have to marry her.
Edna I’m so happy, Fred.
Fred I’m sorry, Paul, about⁠—everything.
Paul That’s all right. I’m glad if I helped to fix things for you. I should have told you long ago. He goes.
Fred Only look! I’ve still got the tickets for the boat, and it says “Frederick M. Stevens and Wife.” And I wonder if the steamship people allow you to change your wife?
Maxie Yes. If you don’t do it in midstream.
Edna If your wife is the right kind she won’t let you take her on an expensive trip. She’ll make you put everything into a home. I don’t mean a big home⁠—just a little bungalow would do.
Fred Bungalow! A bungalow for two! That’d be a great title!
Maxie And I’ve got a great tune! Maxie goes into “Button Up Your Overcoat.” Fred is enchanted⁠—to him it is something that Maxie has composed on the spur of the moment. He starts improvising words.
Fred

“In a bungalow for two,
Where we can bill and coo⁠—”

Mercifully, the curtain is down.
Curtain.

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June Moon
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