Have a nice lunch.
Excuse me.
Just a moment, please.
Rossiter Music Company.
- Ms. LeBoy, it's for you.
- Thank you.
- Excuse me, miss. I brought a...
- Hello. Ye...
Yes. Yes, I heard your song
and I like it very much.
Could you come in, say, around 4:00?
Fine. You're welcome.
- Look, excuse me...
- Just a moment, please.
I asked... I'm sorry about that.
- Sorry.
- That's quite all right.
I have a song
that is just wonderful for you.
I told Mr. Rossiter yours is the voice
that can do it justice.
I'll bet you tell that to all the customers.
Of course I do,
but in your case, it's true.
All right, then.
Shine on
Shine on
Harvest moon up in the sky
I ain't had no lovin'
Since January, February, June or July
Snow time ain't no time to stay
Outdoors and spoon
So shine on, shine on
Harvest moon
For me and my gal
That's lunch.
Let's eat someplace
where they don't have any music.
You may as well stand still.
I can beat you to that door too.
- Who are you?
- Look, all I want is five minutes.
- Read them.
- What are these?
Song lyrics and poems and an operetta,
and underneath that, two musical comedies.
I want an opinion.
- You want an opinion.
- That's all.
Well, I am going to give you one.
You are, without a doubt, the most
persistent young man that I've ever met.
Now, get yourself a haircut,
make an appointment, and come back.
And for heaven's sake, wear a tie.
Are you gonna publish my songs
or my tie?
Now, wait a minute.
Do you know what this is?
Four years of working nights after
wrestling with crockery all day long...
...and nobody to tell me if they're good.
Today, I made up my mind to find out.
Please.
But I just work here.
Why don't you take these
to Mr. Rossiter?
I'm having a tough enough time.
How could I see your boss?
I'm very sorry,
but this is my lunch hour and...
Well, be my guest.
Salami on pumpernickel,
homemade pumpernickel.
You couldn't do better at the Palmer House.
Believe me, you'll enjoy them.
I'll get you a drink. There.
Are they all about William Howard Taft
and the Statue of Liberty?
Anything wrong?
Don't you ever write about
simple things?
Things that you know and you feel?
- You don't like them, huh?
- I didn't say that.
But I wouldn't wanna sit
on a boy's lap...
...and have him sing
about Washington crossing the Delaware.
What's that got to do with it?
Do you know why
you write a popular song?
Let me explain.
Because most boys and girls don't
know how to say "I love you."
So you've got to say it for them,
in 32 bars of music, no more, no less.
Just like that.
Who are you to make new rules? If a song
is good, people will sing it, no matter what.
- You asked for my opinion.
- All right, so I made a mistake.
You'd probably turn down
"The Star-Spangled Banner"...
...if it didn't say
"I love you by the dawn's early light."
Two salami sandwiches
down the drain.
At least you've had your lunch.
Thirty-two bars of music to say
"I love you."
What if I said, "I hate you"?
They could shoot me?
What am I talking to you for?
You don't understand.
Nobody understands.
I hope I haven't discouraged you.
What's four years' work?
For that which we are about
to receive...
...we thank the William Rossiter
Music Company.
- Oh, now, Father.
- Well, it's true.
My daughter earns as much at that great
citadel of culture as I do teaching school.
If it bothers you, Father,
I'll have them cut my salary.
That isn't what bothers me.
It's the type of person
you have to associate with.
And the grossness of their nature
will have weight to drag thee down.
Father thinks they're not fit
for a nice girl, dear.
But he hasn't even met
one of them.
And if he did, he'd like them.
They're sensitive musicians and
composers and poets...
...in spite of what Father thinks.
- I'll see who it is.
- Oh, thanks.
Your trouble is
you shouldn't have had a daughter.
You should have had a marble statue.
Quite right, my dear. Only, we didn't
know how to go about it.
Coming.
- A guy could freeze to death.
- What are you doing here?
I called your office.
They gave me your address.
Nice of them.
You know, after I left you this morning,
I got to thinking about what you said.
- So I did it.
- Did what?
The lyric. You know, simple, what I feel.
Here, read it, Ms. LeBoy.
- What's your name?
- Gus. Gus Kahn.
Well, Mr. Kahn,
we happen to be having our dinner.
If you bring that to the office,
I'll be happy to look at it.
It's very cold and I walked a long way.
Look at it now.
- Who is it, dear?
- Just a young man I met at the office.
- Bring him into the dining room.
- He has to leave, Mother.
I don't have to leave. I'd like to come in.
- We'll be in in a minute.
- All right, dear.
Don't you ever wear a tie?
What's with you and ties?
You'd think I was naked.
Wait here. I'll get one of my father's.
You and my mother are the same.
Ties, ties. Worried about ties.
Hold still. I'll put this on.
You didn't have your hair cut either.
Maybe you could get me one
of your father's.
Come on.
This is Mr. Kahn. He's a lyric-writer.
I am not a bit surprised.
There is about him
the unmistakable aura of the poet.
- How do you do, Mr. Kahn?
- How do you do?
You'll excuse us...
Oh, I suppose you've had your dinner?
I could eat.
Bring Omar Khayym
his loaf of bread and jug of wine.
The name's Gus, and if it's
all the same to you, I'll have soup.
- Bring Gus his soup.
- Why, yes. Yes, indeed.
I had no idea Mr. Kahn was coming tonight.
I'm a little embarrassed.
Oh, think nothing of it, my dear.
You're the only one who Is.
- I hope I'm not busting in or anything.
- No apologies, Mr. Kahn.
- Genius is its own excuse.
- Father, please.
Tell me, what has the muse
inspired you to today?
If you mean what did I write,
I just knocked out a love song.
Beautifully put.
Father, I've read Mr. Kahn's work.
And if he's written a love song,
I'm sure it is beautiful.
I can't think of anything
the world needs more than a new love lyric.
After all, Shelley and Keats
have been going downhill for some time...
...and who couldn't knock out something
better than Elizabeth Barrett Browning's:
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth
And breadth and height
My soul can reach,
When feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
Could I have the rest of it?
Wring out my tie, Mr. Kahn,
and I'll continue.
Gosh, I'm sorry.
Oh, gosh.
Gosh, l... Please, would you go on?
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely,
As they turn from praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs,
And with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a...
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints.
I love thee with the breath
Smiles, tears, of all my life;
And, if God choose
I shall but love thee better after death.
Excuse me.
Father.
Mr. Kahn. Mr. Kahn, I want to apologize.
What for? He's right.
What's a mug like me
doing with a pencil?
But nobody expects you to write like that.
Express yourself in
your own way, Mr. Kahn.
And if you can make others feel
what you feel, that's poetry.
Some people are meant to write poems.
Some people are meant
to move crockery.
I wouldn't expect my horse to get up
on the seat and start driving.
Good night.
I'm sorry if I've troubled you.
Well, what about the lyric
you walked through the snow with?
Have yourself a laugh.
"Gee, I wish that I had
a girl like the other fellows have."
Gracie, look at these figures.
"Smiling Through,"
450,000 copies already.
It was an inspiration you had to let
John McCormack introduce it.
I wanna talk to you
about something.
You don't have to. Without a word,
I'm raising your salary $5 a week.
Get back to work on the two dogs
we are trying to push.
- Mr. Rossiter.
- What?
I've written a song.
It happens every time.
Every good demonstrator
wants to be a bad songwriter.
But this is a wonderful lyric
I ran across, just crying for a tune.
Better it should cry than me.
No, Gracie, look.
How many good songs do we have
lying in the catalog...
...that die
because they've not been plugged?
And how many bad songs
have you yourself helped to become hits?
Now, Gracie, believe me, to me, you are
a much greater artist than Victor Herbert.
I'll make that a $ 10-a-week raise.
- Don't you even wanna hear the song?
- No. I might like it.
Then I'll take it someplace else,
because this song has to be published.
But you can't go to another publisher
while you work for me.
I don't work for you anymore,
Mr. Rossiter.
Then you don't get that raise.
I'm sorry, Ms. LeBoy. I just can't do it.
But you wouldn't have to pay us very
much for the song. Say $ 10?
You say it. Business is so bad,
I can't say anything.
We don't care.
We'll work just for royalties.
We'll work night and day
and do our own plugging.
What's this "we"?
Who's the silent partner in this deal?
- Mr. Kahn, the lyricist.
- Where is he, in hiding?
I don't know. I haven't seen him
since he gave me the lyric.
That's why I've got to have
this song published.
I don't follow.
Then I'd have reason
to see him again.
Mr. Townsend, would it cost me very much
to have a few copies printed?
- Go on, play the number.
- Thank you.
Oh, what can I lose?
I'm in receivership now.
Hurry, before they come
and take the piano.
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth
And breadth and height
My soul can reach
I love thee purely,
As they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs
Who is opening the door?
And with my childhood's faith.
Me. Like always.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints.
I love thee with the breath
Please come in.
- Smile, tears...
- Gus, it's for you. A girl.
- Mr. Kahn.
- Ms. LeBoy.
Excuse me for being so forward, but
I just had to come and congratulate you.
- For what?
- For this.
- When did this happen?
- I put a tune to it that same night.
What'd you do that for?
Let me see.
"Lyrics by Gus Kahn."
Gus, your name, printed.
What's the matter?
Couldn't your father have lived
to see this?
Ma, it's just a song.
It's not the Declaration of Independence.
How could you understand it?
Five years old you were
when we came to this country.
But your father and I,
how long we struggled with the language.
Me, I'm still struggling.
But my son, he makes a song out of it.
Gee, if it means that much to you,
I'm glad she did it.
- Thanks, Ms. LeBoy.
- Gus!
This is the way
how you treat a lady visitor?
You should have some strudel with us.
- Oh, yes.
- Thank you very much.
- Sit down.
- And coffee.
My mother makes
the best strudel in town.
You should excuse the dishes.
But if a little bit is chipped off,
he gets it free from the warehouse.
Gus, I forgot,
some more saucers we need.
Okay, Ma. I'll chip some tomorrow.
Mr. Kahn, you're not going back to the
warehouse after writing a song like this.
Well, why not?
I promised the publisher
we'd do our own plugging.
- Plugging?
- Get the song heard and played.
It takes 24 hours a day, Mr. Kahn.
You mean you want me to quit my job?
But this is your big chance.
What if the song doesn't go over?
Who's gonna help pay the rent?
Listen to him with the rent.
Who paid the rent
while you were growing up?
And what are your brothers,
pushcart peddlers?
Believe me, we won't starve.
- And there'll always be strudel.
- Yup.
She's very sweet.
She gets so excited.
Ma, what are you excited about?
When I walk down Michigan Boulevard,
people should say:
"There goes the mother of Gus Kahn,
the songwriter."
Not "The mother of Gus Kahn who chips
dishes for Albert Pick and Company."
Now what are you doing?
- Please.
- What's that for?
I would like to buy the first one.
Here. Mrs. Kahn, I'd love to play it
for you sometime.
What for? Gus didn't write the music.
Come on, now. Everybody sing.
Gee, I wish that I had a girl
Like the other fellows had
Someone to make a fuss over me
To cheer me up when I feel sad
On Wednesday night, I'm all alone
When I ought to be up
At some sweetheart's home
And I'm lonesome
Awful lonesome
Gee, I wish I had a girl
Follow the pointer!
- How do you do, Mr. Kahn?
- It's raining like a son of a gun.
Where are the folks?
Oh, they're out. They're both out.
They'll be out for quite a while.
Good, we can get right to work.
And, boy, do we need it.
We've written quite a few songs,
but we've had only one hit.
That's not exactly a career.
It's nothing against you,
but we've gotta dig a little harder.
I've written two new lyrics.
Take a look, one of them
could be a real good song.
- Do we have to start right away?
- Sure. What else is there to do?
- What could I have been thinking of?
- What?
Oh, nothing.
All right. Sit down. Sit down.
There's two of them.
One, I like a little better than the other.
Here's "Love in Springtime."
And this one is
"The Month of June is a Song of Love."
You know, June is the month of love.
Everybody... Everybody gets married in June,
and that's the whole idea.
Now, let's try the verse, huh?
"Every lassie loves a laddie in
the month of June."
Yeah.
Mind if I move these? They're in the way.
All right, go ahead. The first two lines.
Now, the third line is "Mid..."
Why have you got it so dark in here?
How do you expect us
to work in the dark?
Holy smoke. There, that's better.
Go ahead. From the third line.
"Mid the roses..."
"Mid the roses, man proposes,
for the world's in tune."
From "mid the roses,"
right from there, from the third line.
- "Mid the roses, man proposes..."
- Yeah, right from there.
Play it. See what you hear from that.
- What is that? What do you got on?
- Real perfume, Nuit d'Amour.
Yeah.
Awfully stuffy in here.
Do you mind if I open a window?
Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Gee, I had no idea
it was blowing like that.
Let's try it right from the top, huh?
Right from the top.
Good, good. Good.
Gosh, that's good.
That's wonderful.
I wish your folks would go out every night.
We'd get a lot done.
That's real good.
Try it again.
Oh, that's a beautiful melody,
Mr. Van Alstyne.
Here's the surprise.
I've talked Bert into letting Gus do the lyric.
- I like his work.
- It'll be a great break for Gus.
Bert works with none but the best.
You know his hits:
"Shade of the Old Apple Tree,"
"I'm Afraid to Come Home in the Dark."
Let's not go through the whole catalog.
I had a feeling he wasn't here
just to tune the piano.
- Now, Grace.
- You think I'm holding Gus back.
Yeah. Not only me,
but the whole music business.
After all, Grace, I deserve another hit.
I've been publishing all your flops.
You've made up your mind,
even before you've heard my new tune?
If I'd made up my mind sooner,
I'd have saved myself a lot of money.
You've got him as a husband.
Why hang onto him as a partner?
Mr. Kahn and I are not married.
What? But I've seen you together for years.
I took it for granted.
Grace, do you mean to say
he never even asked you?
He's cleared his throat once or twice,
but that's as far as he's gotten.
Well, why don't we forget about
the whole thing?
I think Gus and Grace
should stick together.
I'll leave the music here.
We can get hold of another lyricist.
Mr. Van Alstyne...
- Am I late, Fred?
- No. Come in, Gus. Come in.
- You know Bert Van Alstyne.
- By reputation, and I wish I had it.
Hello. Did you played
the new tune for Fred?
I'm a little anxious to hear it myself.
- Well, so long, everybody.
- Oh, just a minute.
Mr. Van Alstyne has a beautiful tune
he wants you to write up.
Well, I'm flattered, but Ms. LeBoy and l...
Oh, I think you should do it, Mr. Kahn.
We haven't been doing
very well together.
Well, now that's settled, when
are you two boys gonna get to work?
- Are you trying to get rid of me?
- Don't be silly.
Any lyricist in the world
would jump at this chance.
Well, how do you like that?
That's gratitude.
I put on a tie for her, I quit my job,
even cut my hair. We're partners.
Now she wants to pawn me off
on a new tune-writer.
- All right, let's forget it.
- No, wait.
Mr. Kahn, we've got to stop fooling
ourselves right here and now.
My tunes aren't in the same class as
your lyrics. Our first hit was an accident.
You wouldn't know a good tune.
- Don't pass up an opportunity...
- Play the song.
- Mr. Kahn...
- Ms. LeBoy, I'll pick my own partners.
Play the song.
Yes, Mr. Kahn.
Hang around.
Tell her how good it is.
This is good.
Wonderful! Wonderful!
That's the best thing you ever did.
- Are you sure?
- Sure? I'll leave it to the expert.
You tell her.
Well, frankly,
it sounds a little reminiscent.
What does he know?
A few lucky hits.
- Thirty million copies, is all.
- I tell you, this is her.
This is what she's like inside.
Do you think I've caught the real me?
Couldn't be anybody else.
Give me a pencil.
Somebody give me a pencil.
Play it again.
Oh, wait. Wait till he leaves.
He's liable to steal it.
Goodbye, Fred. Mr. Kahn, Ms. LeBoy.
Good luck with your lyric.
You're about to get yourself a song.
Memories, memories
Dreams of love so true
O'er the sea of memory
I'm drifting back to you
Childhood days, wild wood days
Among the birds and bees
You left me alone
But still you're my own
In my beautiful memories
I'm very proud to introduce
that beautiful song.
I know you would like to meet
its writers.
Ladies and gentlemen,
may I present the lyricist, Mr. Gus Kahn.
And the composer,
Mr. Egbert Van Alstyne.
Meet the real me.
Why make a fool of me
in front of those people?
- The song's a bit hit, isn't it?
- I don't have to be tricked into success.
If I can't make it on my own,
what's the use of getting there?
If that's all the thanks I get, Mr. Kahn...
I wasn't looking for a new partner,
or another girl.
And now I guess
I better start looking for both.
If I've been your girl,
I've never noticed it.
Why, you're still calling me Ms. LeBoy.
For years, you've been
blowing cigar smoke in my face...
...acting like a truck driver
and treating me like one.
- What's that got to do with it?
- It's all over.
- I'm through with you and your songs.
- Now, you listen here.
You're the most ungrateful person
I have ever met.
Oh, but you're gonna be a big songwriter,
Mr. Kahn.
Don't let me stand in your way.
You're not in my way at all, Grace.
- Gus.
- What?
- You called me Grace.
- I did?
Well, you called me Gus.
- You know what?
- What?
I guess we'll have to get married.
Is that a proposal?
What, you have to have it in writing?
But you've never kissed me.
You never even said you love me.
Well, gosh, what do you want?
Moon, June, love, dove.
That's my business all day.
- Mr. Kahn.
- Yeah?
Let's get down to business.
Come on in, Bert. Grace, you home?
We've been looking all over for you.
- Hello, Bert.
- Hello, Grace.
Dinner show's in a half-hour.
We're gonna miss it.
- Tony Jackson has a new piece.
- They'll play it tonight.
"Jelly Roll Rag." Change the melody,
a good lyric, there may be a song in it.
- Yeah.
- I must tell you something.
- So tell me.
- Alone.
- What?
- Bert, do you mind?
- Come on. We're gonna be late.
- Gus, it's important.
- Won't it keep?
- Not if you keep pushing me this way.
Pushing? Who's pushing? Let's go.
Please, let's get out of here.
It's so stuffy and smoky.
This is the tune Tony wants us to fix up.
In the bridge, the middle part,
if you can change that...
I think I've got it, I think I've got it.
Gus, I wanna tell you something.
I've told you, when I'm looking
at the ceiling, I'm working.
You'll have to stop for one minute.
This is important.
It can't be more important than this.
My dear husband,
I'm gonna have a baby.
- What?
- I'm gonna have a baby.
- What?
- I'm pregnant!
- Well, aren't you surprised?
- No.
Really? Gee, you think it'll look like me?
Oh, no. It's gonna be a pretty baby.
Bert. I've got it. I've got it!
Everybody loves a baby
That's why I'm in love with you
Pretty baby, pretty baby
And I'd like to be your sister
Brother, dad and mother too
Pretty baby, pretty baby
Won't you come and let me rock you
In my cradle of love
And we'll cuddle all the time
Oh, I want a lovin' baby
And it might as well be you
Pretty baby of mine
Pretty baby, pretty baby
Won't you come and let me rock you
In my cradle of love
And we'll cuddle all the time
Oh, I want a lovin' baby
And it might as well be you
Pretty baby of mine
Pretty baby of...
How much are you paying?
- Well, how much do you usually get?
- How much do you usually pay?
Thirty dollars a month.
- I usually get 40.
- That's what we pay.
Is the work hard?
You know, I'm not so young.
I've got a touch of the lumbago too.
How's your sinus?
The work is very easy.
We have a small place
and we like simple cooking.
Then why did your last maid quit?
She married Jack the Ripper
and couldn't handle both jobs.
You know, I don't believe
you ever had a maid.
- What business are you in?
- I'm a chicken-plucker.
Gus, please.
My husband is a songwriter.
Haven't you heard "I Wish I had a Girl,"
"Memories" and "Pretty Baby"?
I heard them. I didn't like them.
You didn't like them?
Grace, this is ridiculous.
Wouldn't have her in the house
if she worked for nothing.
- Get her out before I lose my temper.
- Well, guess I'd better stay.
You're a nice woman,
but him, somebody's got to watch.
- Just a minute...
- It's no use.
I've made up my mind.
Where's the kitchen?
- It's over there.
- Look...
You can think you're the boss,
I'll think I'm the boss...
...and you, you just have the baby.
Well, I'm glad she's gonna
let us do something.
Gus, what is the matter with you?
You've been growling like a bear lately.
I don't know. I don't know, I...
I'm going down and see Fred.
- It's the song, isn't it?
- Yeah.
Now, you listen to me.
"The One I Love" is the best thing
you've ever done.
Take this and show it to him again.
If he still doesn't like it,
I'll take it to another publisher.
- But, honey, listen...
- Let me do the worrying.
- Grace thinks it's the best thing I've done.
- She thinks everything's the best.
Tell her to trust my judgment. I've
done all right by you so far, haven't I?
I've told her, Fred. She says she'll take it
to another publisher.
She'll take it? When do you start voting?
Or hasn't Abraham Lincoln freed
the husbands yet?
Fred, I don't think any more
of this than you do.
- But I don't know, Grace...
- Grace, Grace, Grace.
Look, she got you away
from Bert Van Alstyne.
She found an ex-coalminer, Isham Jones,
who writes music by the light of his hat...
...and now she wants
to change publishers.
She's only doing it
for my good, she says.
Gus, Grace is a wonderful woman.
I love her almost as much as you do.
But now that she's gonna become a mother,
it's time she was told to stay out of music.
You're right, Fred.
You're absolutely right.
- When are you gonna tell her?
- Me?
You paid for the license, you tell her.
And right now.
- Now?
- Now. You wanna wait...
...until she becomes a grandmother?
Go home and face her like a man.
Now, look, Fred...
- Here.
- Another beer?
No, no.
Give me about that much courage.
How can I make you understand that,
in my thinking...
...a man's gotta be a man
in his own house?
Stop running my life.
We're gonna have a family.
That ought to be enough for you.
Forget about "The One I Love."
Forget about the music business.
Stop trying to make me such
a great success.
I'm happy, happy the way I am.
It wasn't so long ago
I was pushing a crockery wagon.
Well, that's just fine.
Be sure you tell her all those things
when she comes home.
- Where is Mrs. Kahn?
- Somebody phoned...
...and said a Sam Harris was
hearing new songs, auditioning.
You weren't here,
so she went downtown to see him herself.
You let her, in her condition?
Why didn't you stop her?
Somebody has to pay my salary.
- I need some coffee.
- And so do I. Make enough for two.
What...?
Kick a little higher, girls. Now turn.
- That's fine.
- Thank you, girls.
- Ten o'clock tomorrow morning.
- You heard him, 10:00.
And I want every girl on time.
That guy's a slave driver. Work half
the night, back at 10 in the morning.
It hardly pays to take my clothes off.
This ending is very weak.
Fill up the last four bars.
- Save the house lights.
- Save the house lights.
- Bring me those sketches.
- Jim, let's see the new sketches again.
No, this clashes. You see what I mean?
- No, this is more what I need...
- Excuse me, please. Is Mr. Harris here?
Excuse me, please.
I would like to see Mr. Harris.
You're seeing him.
- Get on this.
- How do you do?
- I'd like to see the second act costumes.
- Costumes...
- How do you do? My name is Grace Kahn.
- Hello.
I heard about your audition.
I've got a wonderful song.
That was over hours ago.
I've already selected a song.
- No, no, honey...
- That isn't fair.
I didn't hear about it till a half-hour ago.
I was home in bed.
Look, the name of my song
is "The One I Love."
- I know when you hear it...
- I told you...
...l've already selected the song.
It's getting late.
I've got a thousand things to do.
I haven't got time to listen to it.
I'm a very busy man.
Oh, Joe, Joe, Harry...
...will you show the young lady the door?
I'm very, very busy.
You're busy? I'm plugging a song,
keeping house, buying the groceries...
...l'm gonna have a baby. Top that.
- Take it easy, boys.
We could be sued. All right,
I'll listen to your song, Ms. Kahn.
Mrs. Kahn, if you please.
Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Kahn. I'm sorry.
Fred, will you help her out on the piano?
Spotlight.
The one I love
Belongs to somebody else
Mr. Harris.
I'm listening.
I always listen and walk around.
Not with my husband's songs, you don't.
You'll sit right down there
and listen to every word.
Oh, I'm sorry. For a minute,
I thought this was my theater.
All right, girls, later.
Fred, please help the young lady
do her song. Harry, Harry, a chair.
The one I love
Belongs to somebody else
He means his tender songs
For somebody else
And even when I have
My arms around him
I know his thoughts are strong
For somebody else
The hands I hold
Belong to somebody else
I'll bet they're not so cold
To somebody else
It's tough to be alone on the shelf
It's worse to fall in love by yourself
The one I love
Belongs to somebody else
The one I love
Belongs
To somebody else
Lady, you just sold a song.
That's perfect for the first-act finale.
- Say, that girl has talent.
- You don't know how much.
For an encore, she may have twins.
He's a beautiful baby, Mr. Kahn.
They all look like that? Where's Grace?
- You like to know how much he weighs?
- Why, who's he fighting?
- Where's Grace?
- Room 708.
Thanks.
- Gracie.
- She's still under the anesthetic.
Sweetheart? Hey.
Hey. Sweetheart. Hey.
The baby's a big hit. So's the song.
Couldn't have managed either of them
without you.
Got something for you. Look.
Hey. That's for you. Hey, sleepyhead.
Take care of yourself, sweetheart.
I love you very much.
- Oh, nurse?
- You'll have to leave now.
Do you want me to tell her anything
when she wakes up?
Yeah. Tell her I dropped by.
And the kid's all right too.
You're nobody's sweetheart now
They don't baby you somehow
Fancy hose, silken gown
You'd be out of place
In your own hometown
When you walk down the avenue
I just can't believe that it's you
Painted li'I lips
Painted li'I eyes
Wearing a bird of paradise.
It all seems wrong somehow
That you're nobody's sweetheart now
Nights are long since you went away
I think about you all through the day
My buddy, my buddy
Nobody
Quite so true
Toot, Toot, Tootsie, goodbye
Toot, Toot, Tootsie, don't cry
The choo-choo train that
Takes me away from you
No words can tell how sad it makes me
Kiss me, Tootsie, and then
I'll do it over again
Watch for the mail
I'll never fail
If you don't get a letter
Then you know I'm in jail
Toot, Toot, Tootsie, don't cry
Toot, Toot, Tootsie, goodbye!
The armistice, the armistice!
The war's over!
Oh, I can't believe it.
Oh, I don't believe it's over.
Oh, I can't believe it.
I can't believe it's over.
I'm gonna go and sleep for a month.
No, for a whole year, I'm gonna sleep.
I'm gonna go somewhere where there's...
Everybody loves a baby
That's why I'm in love with you
- Pretty baby
- No.
- Pretty baby
- Yes.
Oh, I want a lovin' baby
- And it might as well be you
- Isn't that wonderful?
- Pretty baby of mine
- I wonder which one of us it'll look like.
- Any pains yet?
- No.
What are you doing to me?
Six hours, I've been
waiting here in agony.
Gus, you're making yourself
a nervous wreck.
Do something else for a few hours.
Well, I could have my appendix
taken out while I'm waiting.
Why don't you go down
and have a drink with the boys, huh?
Well, what about you?
The doctor says the baby
isn't due until midnight.
Doctor says. What, is it coming in
on the Broadway Limited?
Will you please do as I say? Honest,
I won't have it till you come back.
- Promise?
- Promise.
Boy, you don't know
what I've been going through all day.
Gus, as soon as you feel any pains,
hurry back.
Hey, I'm beginning to feel pains.
What time is it?
My watch is worn out.
Why don't you relax?
Who's having this baby, you or me?
Gus, listen to the melody again.
Maybe it'll give you an idea.
That's the best tune Isham Jones wrote,
don't you think so?
- What time is it?
- Oh, will you listen?
That's a good tune.
Yeah, that's a good tune.
How do the doctors know?
Could be 10 months, 11.
Poor Grace.
How does she get into these things?
Anna, are you sure
he hasn't even called?
Nope. Are you sure
you're married to him?
Come to think of it,
I never have seen the license.
- Anna, I'm worried.
- The main thing is you're all right...
...and the baby's all right.
I'll go call Fred Townsend again.
Well, look who's here.
What'd you come up for, take a bow?
Honey, I'm sorry.
- I'm sorry.
- Say hello to Irene.
Hello, Irene. I'm your father.
Isn't she pretty?
Honey, last night, you know,
you told me to go out with the boys...
...and I went over to the club and,
well, I got with Fred...
...and I was really worried about you.
I kept asking every minute what time...
...and then we got on a tune, and...
It's all right, Gus.
Well, you know how I am.
I get interested all of a sudden and...
You don't have to explain. I understand.
I'm really sorry.
I think we got a good song.
Wanna look at it?
"Why do I do just as you say?
Why must I just give you your way?"
It's so scribbled, I can't read it.
Why do I sigh?
Why do I try to forget?
It must have been
that something lovers call fate.
That kept on saying I had to wait.
I saw them all.
Just couldn't fall 'til we met
It had to be you
It had to be you
I wandered around and finally found
Somebody who
Could make me be true
Could make me be blue
And even be glad just to be sad
Thinking of you
Some others I've seen
Might never be mean
Might never be cross
Or try to be boss
But they wouldn't do
Nobody else gave me a thrill
With all your faults, I love you still
It had to be you
Wonderful you
It had to be you
By the way, by the way
Take her hand.
When we meet the preacher, I'll say
Yes, sir, that's my baby
No, sir, don't mean maybe
Yes, sir, that's my baby now
Everybody hand in hand
Swinging down the lane
Everybody feeling grand
Swinging down the lane
That's the time I miss the bliss
That we might have known
Nights like this
When I'm all alone
Oh, not so hard.
You should be very thankful, young lady,
getting a bath every night.
When I was your age,
I got a bath only on Saturday.
- Boy, were you lucky.
- Donald, what are you sitting there moping?
Promotion's tomorrow.
You don't know your poem.
- Now, come on, take it from the top.
- Okay.
Ay, tear that tattered ensign down!
That long has waved on high
You're reading it like
it's a label on a bottle of ketchup.
Ay, tear her battered ensign down!
And long has it waved on high
On high
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Who asked you?
I was just helping.
Look, I'm big enough
to recite my own poem.
- I'm big enough to take my own bath.
- Shut up.
- That's right. You don't have to soap her.
- Look, I pay all the bills.
Let me make believe
I'm a member of this family.
Telephone, dear.
How do these kids get so dirty?
- It's New York calling. Florenz Ziegfeld.
- Who?
- Florenz Ziegfeld.
- Ziegfeld?
- Hello?
- Hello, Gus. This is...
- Hello?
- Giddyup, boy. Come on.
Hello, Mr. Ziegfeld.
Yeah, yeah, this is Gus Kahn.
Come on, boy. Giddyup, come on, boy.
Yeah. All right.
You want me to write a show for you?
- Step on it.
- Step on it? Donald, be quiet.
- Get down.
- Giddyup.
- Donald, get down.
- Giddyup.
Just a minute, please.
Donald, Donald, I mean it. Get down.
Please stop pestering your father.
He's talking business.
Hello, I'm sorry.
Wanna come to New York
and do this show?
Well, yes, I'm very flattered, Mr. Ziegfeld,
but why do I have to go to New York?
- I want Daddy to button me.
- Come here, I'll button you.
No, I was talking to my little girl.
Look, I have a nice new house here
and my wife likes me around.
My kids are very happy.
We're eating three square meals a day.
Are things any better in New York?
- This is the way I've always worked.
- Mr. Ziegfeld, this is Grace Kahn.
- May I ask who's starring in the show?
- Eddie Cantor.
- Oh, really? Who's the composer?
- Walter Donaldson.
Gus, it's Walter Donaldson.
I wouldn't care if it was Beethoven
unless he's in Chicago.
- Hang up.
- You're impossible.
- Mr. Ziegfeld.
- Who's Ludwig van Beethoven?
- A piano player who looked like this:
- I think it's a wonderful idea. Yes, I do.
Gus, will you please be quiet?
This is too good a chance
for Gus to miss.
- Will he do it?
- Yes.
- What are you doing?
- He'll be in New York.
- Grace, give me that.
- Fine, we'll consider it closed.
- Honey, I hurt you?
- Mommy.
- No, it's all right.
- Anna. Anna. Quick.
- What is it? What happened?
- Daddy hit Mama.
- It was an accident.
- Right in the eye.
- Dear?
- Oh, go away.
I was trying to help him,
but he insists on being a problem.
And he struck you?
Ziegfeld offered him a show
and he turned it down.
- Please.
- He turned it down?
Please, let me make one decision.
All right, make it. Stay in Chicago
and be a big frog in a little puddle.
A man with your talent.
You should be ashamed.
- Grace.
- It would be so good for you to go away.
A whole new life.
Different people, different environment.
- And different women?
- You're not the type.
Not the type.
Someday, I'm gonna meet a girl
who'll let me win an argument just once.
And you watch out.
I pity the poor girl.
Come on, children, I'll put you to bed.
Now, just a minute.
I put them to bed every night.
Get into the kitchen,
check your cookbook.
- Your potato pancakes tonight were terrible.
- I suppose all your songs are hits.
- lf he starts anything, holler.
- We will.
Anna, let's start packing
Mr. Kahn's things.
Thanks for everything, dear God.
And please forgive Daddy
for hitting Mommy.
- Right in the eye.
- It was an accident.
You get this through your heads.
I wouldn't hit your mother,
no matter what happened.
- I happen to love Mama very much.
- You never tell her you love her.
You two. Come on. I'll tuck you in bed.
I can get in myself, thank you.
- Donald?
- Good night.
Good night.
Good night.
Honest to goodness, kids.
There's nobody in the world
that means more to me than your mother.
- It's all right, Daddy.
- We understand.
- It was an accident when you hit her.
- Right in the eye.
Is this Walter Donaldson's apartment?
- Go home. The party's over.
- Oh, I'm Gus Kahn.
You're kidding. Come in.
Ought to be a better way
of starting the day than waking up.
Should have seen this place
before the maid tidied it up.
- Sit down. Had breakfast?
- Had lunch.
Oh, one of those.
Pardon me while I fix myself something.
My grandfather had a bottle of beer
for breakfast every day of his life.
Lived to the ripe old age of 28.
Very funny.
Hope we don't start work every day
at 1:00 in the afternoon...
...with a stale glass of beer
and a joke to match.
If you're the eager-beaver type, I got a tune
you can start working on right now.
- Mind if I get dressed?
- lf you can handle it.
Well, this is gonna be
a beautiful collaboration, isn't it?
You don't like me.
- Hello.
- Hello.
- You here from last night?
- No, from this afternoon.
Well, party's starting early today,
isn't it?
- Walter.
- Wait, you can't go in there. He's dressing.
- Are you from out of town or something?
- That you, Frankie?
Yeah, honey.
I'll wait out here with your scoutmaster.
That's Gus Kahn from Chicago.
He's the bard of the Corn Belt.
Introduce yourself.
Frankie Mason.
Kiss it or shake it.
I don't know what goes in Chicago.
I haven't got much time.
Got an important appointment.
- Can I say something?
- No.
- I thought we were gonna work.
- She'll hum you the tune on the way.
- Come on. She knows it by heart.
- I gotta...
Just shut your eyes, honey,
and let it happen.
You and your jockey friends.
Maybe it was the other jockey.
They're all the same size.
- Here, this ought to help you get even.
- I'm not hungry.
On the back, on the back.
- Sam?
- Yeah?
- Put this on Our Fancy.
- On the nose?
- Where else?
- Okay.
It's sort of a going-away present.
I'm leaving.
Bye, Frankie.
You better practice those two notes.
Hey, Gus. Wait a minute.
Gus, this is it. I can't let you go now.
I've been looking for a partner
who could work at the track.
Well, get yourself a horse with a pencil.
No, no. You're not gonna let
a little thing...
...like the fact that we hate each other
stand in our way?
This is a business arrangement.
How about it?
Look, in Chicago, composers have a very
quaint custom of working indoors at a piano.
Well, it sounds radical,
but for you, I'll give it a go. Deal?
You're crazy.
Nothing could be finer
Than to be in Carolina in the morning
No one could be sweeter
Than my sweetie when I meet her
In the morning
Where the morning glories
Twine around the door
Whispering pretty stories
I long to hear once more
Strolling with my girlie
Where the dew is pearly early
In the morning
Butterflies all flutter up
And kiss each little buttercup at dawning
If I had Aladdin's lamp
For only a day
I'd make a wish
And here's what I'd say
Nothing could be finer
Than to be in Carolina
In the morning
Let's go, kids. On your feet.
What kind of a cockamamie lyric
is "mo-ho-ho-rning"?
Well, it fits the "no-ho-ho-hotes,"
doesn't it?
- I'm not doing this song.
- The queen has spoken.
Now, now, let's not lose our tempers.
My kind of audience isn't paying 6.60
to see a butterfly kiss a buttercup.
Only Jolson can get by
with a number like that.
When I go down on one knee,
I lose half my charm.
- Can I say something?
- No.
Butterflies, buttercup.
Honestly, Ziggie, are you going in
for minstrel shows, after all these years?
Gloria's right. This doesn't sound
like her type of material.
No wonder.
She sang it with her clothes on.
Well, I have a dinner engagement.
- I do hope you boys don't mind if I leave.
- It'd be a pleasure.
Welcome to Broadway, Gus.
Cockamamie, indeed. Come on, Gus.
We'll talk it over down at the...
Please, please.
All I want is a one-way ticket to Chicago.
Relax. You and Walter can come up
with something much more sophisticated.
I'm sorry, Mr. Ziegfeld,
but New York is just too big a town for me.
Never get another lyric-writer like him.
Wrote the first chorus in 135
and three-fifths on a slow track.
- Now can I say something?
- Yeah.
- I liked it.
- She liked it. We're in.
From the top, kids. One, two.
One, two, three, four.
I've been waiting for you.
- What do you want, your knife back?
- Don't run away, Gus.
I wanted to let you in on the facts of life.
I may scream.
I happen to be the leading lady
in the new Ziegfeld show.
So my material has got to be great.
That's why I fight so hard.
Yeah, get yourself a new sparring partner.
I'm on my way home.
I want you. I think you're about
the best lyricist there is.
In the butterfly-and-buttercup set,
you mean.
Exactly. But you're on Broadway now.
There isn't a morning glory for 15 miles.
You have to write
something sophisticated.
And you can do it, once someone
teaches you the meaning of the word.
- You applying for the job?
- lf it's open.
It's funny, you know.
Someone once told me I wasn't the type.
- I'd be too much trouble for you.
- No, you have a talent that can help me.
Nothing would be too much trouble.
- Coming with me?
- Thought you had a dinner date.
I thought you were going to Chicago.
- Hello?
- Long-distance call.
This is Mrs. Kahn.
Who's calling?
Oh, New York.
What is it? Who's ringing the phone
at 3:00 in the morning?
It's Gus calling from New York.
I hope everything's all right. Hello?
- Hello? Hello?
- Hello?
- Is Mr. Kahn there?
- Who?
- Gus Kahn.
- Oh, just a moment.
Gus. Gus, baby. Your call to Chicago.
Go on, go to bed.
Could you hold it down a little bit?
Could you be a little quiet?
- Hello, Gus?
- Grace.
- What's the matter?
- I had to call you.
I pinned the Irishman down long enough
to finish most of the score.
- Did you call me for that?
- I thought you'd like to hear it.
- It's 3:00 in the morning.
- It's 3:00 in Chicago.
Well, tell her it's 4:00 here.
A wonderful invention, the telephone.
Well, it's worth staying awake for.
- Gloria's gonna sing.
- Who?
- Gloria Knight.
- Who's Gloria Knight?
- Didn't I write to you about her?
- You haven't written to me.
Well, when I was gonna write,
I was gonna tell you about her. Listen.
Mrs. Kahn?
I just want you to know
you have a wonderful husband.
And he's written a beautiful song for me.
Play, Walter.
- She's gonna love this.
- Yeah.
Love me or leave me
And let me be lonely
You won't believe me
And I love you only
I'd rather be lonely than happy
With somebody else
- You might find the nighttime
- "Love me or leave me"?
The right time for kissing
But nighttime is my time
For just reminiscing
Regretting instead of forgetting
With somebody else
There'll be no one
Unless that someone is you
I intend to be independently blue
I want your love
But I don't want to borrow
To have it today
And give back tomorrow
For my love is your love
There's no love for nobody else
You ever think your husband
could write something like that?
No, I didn't, baby.
It's a whole new life here in New York.
You were right. It's just what I needed.
- How are the kids?
- "How are the kids"?
Donald recited "Old Ironsides" at school
and the teacher said...
Hello? Gu...?
Love me or leave me
And let me be lonely
You won't believe me
And I love you only
I'd rather be lonely than happy
With somebody else
You might find the nighttime
The right time for kissing
But nighttime is my time
For just reminiscing
- Thanks, honey.
- Regretting instead of forgetting
- With somebody else
- Grace.
I come 800 miles and that's all I get?
- Hey, Gus, who's the new blond?
- Does Gloria know about this?
This is my wife.
- How do you do?
- How do you do?
- Bigmouth.
- Well, I didn't say anything.
Honey, you know
how those chorus girls are.
How are they, Gus?
I want your love
But I don't want to borrow
To have it today
And give back tomorrow
For my love is your love
There's no love for nobody else
That's Gloria Knight,
the girl who sang to you over the phone.
I had to be nice to her...
...because you don't know how hard it was
for us to get her to do our numbers.
And she's a very big singer.
She could be a big help to me. Us.
Oh, I understand.
You do?
That why you came
all the way from Chicago?
- Don't be silly.
- I don't think it's being silly.
After all, I don't blame you for worrying.
Here I am in New York,
all alone, and different people...
Gus, please. I wasn't worried at all.
I just came to see the show, that's all.
What am I, Jojo the Dog Face Boy
or Peter the Hermit?
Don't you think it's possible
a pretty girl could make a pass at me?
It's possible. But she wouldn't have
gotten anyplace. Not with my Gus.
- Gus, darling, the hook.
- Again?
This thing comes open
at the strangest times.
- Remember that night in Pittsburgh?
- Oh, don't remind me.
I thought I had it all fastened.
What a second-act curtain.
Oh, by the way, Gloria, this is my wife.
How do you do, Ms. Knight?
Well, Mrs. Kahn. I'm so sorry.
We've spoken over the telephone,
haven't we?
No. No, I just sort of listened.
I better put on my winter underwear.
- Gus, you're wanted out front. Ziggie.
- Thanks.
That means Ziegfeld.
You'd be surprised how much I've learned.
You wait right here, young lady.
I gotta talk to you.
- Mrs. Kahn.
- Yes?
Will you come in for a second?
Won't you take off your boxing gloves
and sit down?
Thank you.
You know,
this is a new experience for me.
I've never talked to another man's wife
without a lawyer in the room.
- What is there to talk about?
- Don Juan out there, with the cigars.
He's putting on a big act
for your benefit.
And I'm not going
to let him get away with it.
- Is it an act?
- I never hide my conquests, darling.
Only my defeats.
And believe me,
this time, I was shut out.
At first, it was strictly business.
All of a sudden, I found myself
falling for that sad-eyed...
...old hound of a husband of yours.
So I tried to get into the Kennel Club.
Would you mind telling me
what happened?
Nothing.
Absolutely, positively
and humiliatingly nothing.
It was almost enough
to make a girl wonder if she was...
- Cigarette?
- No, thank you.
Do you know how many times
he showed me pictures of you...
...little Donald and little Irene?
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
After a while, I got to hate those kids.
They were a symbol of something
that I'd never achieve.
And how he talked
about the way you play the piano.
You must play a wonderful piano,
Mrs. Kahn.
Thank you for being so honest,
Ms. Knight.
But if I ever catch you with him again,
I'm gonna scratch your eyes out.
Bye.
- What was that for?
- That's for nothing.
Absolutely, positively
and humiliatingly nothing.
Another bride, another June
Another sunny honeymoon
Another season, another reason
For makin'
Whoopee
A lot of shoes, a lot of rice
The groom is nervous
He answers twice
It's really killing that he's so willing
Whoopee
Picture a little love nest
Down where the roses cling
And picture the same sweet love nest
What a year can bring
He's washing dishes and baby clothes
He's so ambitious, he even sews
So don't forget, folks
That's what you get, folks
- For makin' whoopee
- For makin' whoopee
Another year, or maybe less
- What's this I hear?
- Well, can't you guess?
She feels neglected
And he's suspected of makin' whoopee
Shot with my own words.
She sits alone most every night
He doesn't phone
He doesn't write
I was busy.
He says he's busy
But she says, "Is he?"
He's makin' whoopee
- I have to work, don't I?
- That's work?
He doesn't make much money
Only 5000 per
Some judge who thinks he's funny
Says, "You pay 6 to her"
And then I say, "Judge, suppose I fail?"
The judge says, "Budge right into jail"
- You better keep her
- I think it's cheaper
- Than makin' whoopee
- Than makin' whoopee
- Come in.
- Aren't you folks gonna have supper?
- We're makin' whoopee
- We're makin' whoopee
No, no, Nora
Nobody but you, dear
You know, Nora
Yours truly is true, dear
And would I trade you for Venus?
No, no, Nora, no, no!
I saw your eyes
Your wonderful eyes
My heart has taught me their meaning
If you like Ukulele Lady
Ukulele Lady like a'you
If you like to linger where it's shady
Ukulele Lady linger too
If you kiss Ukulele Lady
While you promise ever to be true
Gus, been looking all over for you.
- Wonderful party.
- Thanks, Fred.
I can't stay.
My train leaves in half an hour.
I hate to see you go,
but good luck in Hollywood.
Everybody's moving out there
since pictures began to talk.
- Why don't you get in on the act?
- I can't get this house on a train.
- Even Donaldson's coming West.
- Yeah?
I gave him an advance
on your new number.
Our new number?
Yeah, you know, the Italian-type song.
You said you were nuts about it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
The Italian-type song. Yeah.
- Bye.
- So long. Take care.
If you like Ukulele Lady
Ukulele Lady like a'you
I still don't like it.
Oh, Walter.
Surprised to see so much liquor
in your house. How come?
- Expecting to be bit by a snake?
- I have been.
Come here.
What's the Italian-type number?
- Oh, the Italian number.
- Yeah.
You weren't to know
until I got to Hollywood.
You took an advance from Fred
on a number I never agreed to.
If you needed money,
all you had to do was ask me.
Well, I didn't wanna be
beholden to you, chief.
You're getting to be such a big man now.
How do you know I'll like this tune?
My tunes were good enough
for you once.
Just put the words to it.
I never write up anything
I don't believe in.
Is that statement for me or for posterity?
You could at least have let me hear the tune
and decide if I like it.
Decide, Gus? Who decides,
you or Grace?
Since you've been with Isham Jones
and Dick Whiting...
...did she tell you to
get rid of little Walter?
I've taken an awful lot from you.
I've had to follow you around...
...waiting for you to get in the mood
to sit down at a piano.
Many a time, I had to prop you up
when I got you there.
Now, I'm not asking for gratitude,
but keep my wife out of this.
As a matter of fact, it's a very good idea
if we quit working together.
Well, thank you and good afternoon,
Mr. Grace Kahn.
Why don't you take a walk
and sober up?
Yeah, why don't you get a drink
and get her to give you back your pants?
Well, I see by the tracks
Papa Bear has come home.
Is she still here? Why do you think
I stayed out half the night?
- Why didn't you tell her?
- You don't get rid of me so easy.
I explained to her
we couldn't afford a maid.
Do you think anybody who could
afford a maid would hire me...
...an old party with lumbago?
Anna, you know how things have been.
I haven't even paid you for three months.
This isn't the kind of job you take
for money. It's like being in the Army.
You'll owe me.
All right, if you're gonna stay,
you're gonna stay. Where's my supper?
If you came home at a decent hour,
you'd have it with the family.
- I don't cook three times a night.
- What?
It's on the kitchen table, waiting.
Gus. Gus, why don't you call
Fred Townsend?
What for?
Maybe he could get you
something in Hollywood.
Honey, I don't go begging for favors.
If Fred wants me,
he knows where he can find me.
Well, I thought it over.
I'll do it. Ten dollars apiece.
I thought it over too. Three for 25.
- All right, in advance.
- Okay.
Here's for six.
Hey, you think you could write
a song for that tall dame?
I guess so.
Okay. Now, get out of here, genius.
People think I write this stuff myself.
Gus, I've been so worried about you.
- Did I awaken you?
- Where have you been?
I was downtown. I ran into a few guys
who really appreciate my work.
- What are you doing?
- Writing lyrics.
Nothing could be finer than to give
The guy a shiner in the first round
- What kind of a lyric is that?
- It's a parody.
But you're making fun
of your own songs.
Well, who has a better right?
And $ 10 a funny.
Oh, I got one I want you to hear.
This one I think is really cute.
Come here. Listen to this.
Two fellas go out on a blind date, see.
And this one guy gets a girl named Betty.
Sit down, sit down.
I planned the name Betty
because it's got a silly rhyme.
Anyhow, the minute he takes a look
at this girl, this is what he says:
It had to be me
That had to get you
I stand 5-foot- 10
A man among men
But you're 7'2"
I meet lots of girls
When I make the rounds
But none are like you
Seven-foot-two, 70 pounds
But you make me thrill
And you always will
I realize, Betty
You look like spaghetti
But what can I do?
It's your fingertips
That I adore
When you stand up
They touch the floor
It had to be you, wonderful you
Seven-foot-two
Don't you think that's funny?
You better get some sleep.
- Number, please.
- Long distance, please.
- Hello. Yes, ma'am.
- Hello?
Hello, I'd like to place
a person-to-person call...
...to Fred Townsend
in Hollywood, California.
Hello? Who? Oh, just a minute.
When the concert's over,
there's a phone call for you, long distance.
Long distance.
I wonder who that could be.
- Where's it from?
- Hollywood.
Maybe Rin Tin Tin
needs a new theme song.
- Hollywood? Hello?
- Hello, Gus, Fred Townsend.
- Hello, Fred.
- Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas to you too.
- Honey, it's Fred.
- Merry Christmas, Fred.
- Grace is fine?
- Yes, she's fine.
- How about the kids?
- We're all fine.
Good. I wonder if you'd be interested
in doing a picture.
Well, I don't know, Fred.
I'm kept pretty busy here.
They want me in Hollywood.
Fred's got a picture for me.
Oh, Gus.
Yeah. Yeah, well, as a favor to you,
Fred, I'd do it, sure, but...
- The money's very good.
- All right. All right. You got a deal.
- See you in a week.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
- That's wonderful.
- Where are my cigars?
- Get him a cigar.
- Think the whole family could go out?
- I wouldn't go without you.
Did he say anything
about transportation?
- No.
- Well, who's gonna pay for the tickets?
- You should have asked him that.
- Oh, honey, I couldn't do that.
We have to put up a front.
We'll hit somebody for a loan.
Who? Everybody in Chicago's broke.
How about Bert? Bert Van Alstyne.
- He's in New York.
- Here.
- What's that?
- It's from not playing the stock market.
- Annie.
- Oh, no.
Go on, take it. Who else would
loan money to a songwriter?
And get me a lower berth.
- Anna...
- Hey, are we going somewhere?
Where are we going?
You missed it. Daddy was talking
to Uncle Fred all the way in Hollywood.
Daddy has a job out there.
You're so smart.
I heard Mama talking to him last night.
Didn't I?
Well, didn't I?
Yes, Donald.
- Can we swim in the ocean, Mommy?
- Yes, darling.
Gus, we have no secrets from Fred.
I simply told him the truth, that's all.
You needed this.
Do I have to be wet-nursed
through my whole life?
No, Gus. I just have a little less pride
than you have.
Yeah, sure, sure.
You have a little less pride.
A little more push too.
When I was on top, I never knew if I was
writing the hits or you were making them.
For years, everybody's been saying
the same thing.
What do you want me to do?
Stand on the sidelines
and watch your talent dry up?
I'm your wife, Gus.
I've got a right to help you.
Would it make you any happier
if I collected an agent's commission?
There's such a thing as too much help.
I didn't know I was in the way.
I've gotten to depend upon you so much,
I can't think for myself anymore.
Look what's happened to us.
Is the depression my fault too?
You pick my ties,
my suits, my tune-writers.
You even order for me in a restaurant.
Well, from now on, just order for one.
Gus.
I'm leaving.
Take the kids out for a walk
or something.
Aren't you going to
say goodbye to them?
You'll think of something to tell them.
Yeah. That's one thing I'm good at.
- Stop it. Stop it.
- What's the matter?
Isn't that Johann Strauss?
I don't see how it can be.
I got paid for it last Thursday.
Johnny, why don't you try
something of your own?
This is no time to be revolutionary.
We've gotta have
a complete score in 10 days.
So we take a little of Strauss.
And we steal a little of this:
And we throw in a little of this:
And then some... and we got it. Listen.
You're a great tune-writer,
how can you do a thing like this?
- I'll tell you in one word. Money.
- Yeah.
Look, Gus, you've been fighting this
for months, and what has it got you?
You've been thrown out
of two studios already.
Believe me, you can't win.
There are only two kinds
of people in this town:
The ones who eat at Romanoff's
and the ones who serve them.
Stop rehearsing for a tray
and let's give them what they want.
Okay, okay, I give up. Go ahead, play it.
I can't put my finger on it,
but it just doesn't ring a bell.
I've got one outside on my bicycle.
Should I bring it in?
I know you've been working
14 hours a day on this.
The bad stuff always comes
twice as hard.
Well, that's that.
Gus, did I ever tell you how
I first met you?
Met me?
Back in college, there was a beat-up
phonograph in our fraternity house.
Nine out of 10 records we played
were Gus Kahn songs.
That's how I first met you.
When all the smart boys in Hollywood
said you were through...
...I remembered that phonograph player.
Stop. I'm getting all choked up.
Thanks for the kind words,
but it's no use.
I don't write what they're singing today.
Is it that you don't write it
or you can't write it?
Maybe the smart boys are right.
Listen here, son. Don't you sit there
and tell me I'm through.
This is Gus Kahn you're talking to.
I was writing hits
when you were in kindergarten.
And I'm gonna go on writing them,
but my way, not yours.
Look, don't fly off the handle, Gus.
Times change, formulas change.
A man with your talent shouldn't
let the parade pass him by.
I don't want any part of this parade.
It was my own fault for trying to copy it.
I don't copy anybody. They copy me.
I don't write by formula.
To me, a song isn't just words
set to music.
It's something from the heart that's
real and honest and says something.
- Not silly sounds... and:
- Oh, now, Gus...
I'm through. Go get yourself a parrot.
What got into him?
Better find a parrot who plays the piano.
Gus!
- Hello.
- Grace. Hello.
- You look pretty good.
- I'll get him in the next round.
- Would you mind if I kissed you?
- Come here.
Well, what do you think of me?
I finally did something all by myself.
No help from anybody.
- I knew I had a talent.
- Stop. Stop it.
I had to come 2000 miles to
find out I'm washed up.
You know, when they brought me
to this hospital...
...it was the first time in two years
I had my name in Variety.
I couldn't even get in the Brown Derby.
When I was younger,
I didn't mind if people pushed me around.
I had to struggle, because I never knew
what success was really like.
But once you've lived
on the top of the world...
...it's no fun anymore at the bottom.
Gus, I'm ashamed of you.
I'm ashamed because
you're forgetting who you are...
...and what you've done
and what you're going to do.
Who pulled the blinds down?
This is the town where they'd ask
Shakespeare, "What have you done lately?"
But you write one hit
and you're back up on top.
- I don't write their kind of songs. I can't.
- Well, I should hope not.
First thing I have to do is get you out
and put you to work.
I can't let you lie here
feeling sorry for yourself.
- You know something?
- What?
When you first walked in,
I thought I was sick.
- You'll have to leave. It's his bath now.
- All right.
- Isn't she pretty?
- Of course. This is Hollywood, isn't it?
- Oh, honey.
- What?
You remember the backstage
that time at Whoopee?
You mean Gloria Knight?
Big phony. Nothing happened.
I've been meaning to tell you that
for a long time.
Oh, you took a load off my mind.
Thank you.
Isn't she pretty?
Well?
- How'd he take it?
- Fine.
He's gonna be all right, Fred.
And he's gonna keep on writing songs.
But, Mrs. Kahn, I've warned you.
If he works...
What do you think will happen to him
if he doesn't work, doctor?
You know, there are some things in a man's
heart that don't show up on a cardiogram.
Fred, is it all right for
a girl my age to cry?
Sure.
- How's the new team coming along?
- Great. He's teaching me quite a bit.
Wouldn't it sound better this way?
Sorry.
If that tune doesn't strike you,
how about this one?
Crackerjack Song Service. If you don't
hear what you want, just ask for it.
- Walter.
- Hello, Grace.
I'm so glad to see you.
I thought you didn't approve of me.
Then why would I send for you?
Come on in.
- You're sure it's all right?
- Of course.
What's the trouble, money?
No. Money won't help Gus.
- He needs something only you can give.
- What?
Another hit, Walter.
That's the best medicine in the world.
Grace, how do you guarantee a hit? I might
come up with nothing. I've done it before.
But that isn't important.
Gus has to feel
that he's back with the boys on top.
He'll take it from there.
We stopped running as an entry
a long time ago.
It'll be much easier for him
with somebody else.
Here he comes.
- Well, if it isn't the smiling Irishman.
- Hello, Gus.
I must be in pretty bad shape
to drag you away from the track.
As a matter of fact, I was losing...
...and I thought it was about time
I dropped in and said hello.
- How are you, Gus?
- Fine. Fine, I'm working.
Matter of fact,
I'm working on a few tunes right now.
I found an up-and-coming young fellow
with a lot of fresh new ideas.
We expect to have
a few tunes out any day now and...
Why am I telling you
the story of my life?
Visiting hours are over.
Gus, you kind of put me in a tough spot,
because I came to ask a favor.
I haven't got it anymore, Walter.
You caught me between millions.
No, it isn't money.
It's something that only you can give me.
- What?
- Another hit.
And I sure need one.
You won't have to chase me around
anymore. I'm a new kind of guy.
I got a wonderful wife and a new home
and I'd like to be able to afford them.
So...
...if I bring you a note from my mother,
could we work together again, chief?
What do you think, Grace?
Oh, it's up to you, Gus.
I'm not running your life anymore.
- I finally got her trained.
- Yeah.
It's a deal.
I don't know how word got around so fast,
but I just got a call from Jerry Kern.
He wants to know how soon
Gus can go to work.
Same from Harry Akst,
same from Harry Warren...
...and Isham Jones just airmailed
a melody from Chicago.
- Well, that's wonderful.
- You're a wonderful woman, Grace.
I should have married you
the day you walked into my office.
I'd probably be president now.
No, on second thought,
you'd probably be president.
Isn't it awful?
It's the simple tunes that drive you crazy.
I'm stuck right in the middle.
Play it for me.
Why have you got it so dark in here?
- Where'd you get that dress?
- It's an old one.
- I don't like it.
- You always did like it.
Play it. Play it, will you?
Grace, please, play the melody.
I'm digging for a line
and you're giving me arrangements.
- I'm sorry.
- Whoever told you you could play piano?
- You did.
- I was young then.
I'll try to do better.
- Where's my pencil?
- Behind your ear.
All right, play, play.
Still I feel the thrill of your charms...
- Pretty.
- What?
Your dress.
- How's my piano-playing?
- Next week, Carnegie Hall.
- What are the words, Gus?
- Take a look at them.
If you come out even, we've got a song.
"I'll See You in My Dreams."
Play it for me.
I'll see you in my dreams
Hold you in my dreams
Someone took you out of my arms
Still I feel
The thrill of your charms
Lips that once were mine
Tender eyes that shine
They will light
My way tonight
I'll see you in
My dreams
In the main ballroom,
we can seat 300 guests.
- The table for the guest of honor...
- Fine.
I don't want
any fruit salad or chicken la king.
These people are in the music business.
With them, eating's a ritual.
I don't know why
you're making these arrangements.
How am I going to get Gus to show up?
I don't know, I don't know. Say anything.
Tell him the dinner's for Jerome Kern.
What'll I do when Gus finds out the surprise
dinner is for him, that I tricked him?
Come on, Grace.
He must've gotten to like it by now.
Leave the bottle.
I'm throwing caution to the wind.
To the party.
- Good evening, sir.
- Good evening.
Good evening.
- I never can get this tie straight.
- Turn around. I'll fix it for you.
I could've gone to the ball game.
Instead, you dress me up like a headwaiter.
- Will you stand still?
- Grace.
- Hello, Walter.
- Who's your little boy?
The same one I've been
taking care of for years.
You're here on Jerome Kern night?
You never attend a testimonial
for anyone but yourself.
Well, it got to be a long time
between dinners.
- Gus.
- Hi, John.
Don't believe what anyone tells you.
You look lovely.
It took the family
to get him into that suit.
Why make a big thing about a dinner?
You'd think the guy needed the meal.
Everybody's here. George Gershwin,
Sigmund Romberg, Vincent Youmans...
Yeah, come on. Let's go, Grace.
They're waiting for the second team.
Don't look at me, it was Walter's idea.
I couldn't let you know
it was for you, darling.
You'd still be running.
It's customary for the guest of honor
to make a speech after dinner...
...but this kid is liable to skip
before the soup course.
Five years ago,
the doctors were counting him out...
...but he got up and walked away
before they got to 10.
May I present the man that we're paying
$ 15 a plate to honor, drinks extra...
...my friend, Gus Kahn.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
I've had so much in my life
for which to be grateful.
And one of the most...
Well, let me put it this way.
You all know I was practically raised
on apple strudel.
But I have two extra-favorite Irish dishes.
Mulligan stew and Walter Donaldson.
Which brings up the question,
what am I doing up here by myself?
It's a room filled with men
I've had the privilege to work with...
...and this dinner is really for all of you.
But most of all, it's for Grace.
I don't know quite how to say it,
but without her, I...
You're not just gonna sit there
and watch me hang, are you?
Without this little girl, I'm just a mug.
I tried it once. Fell flat on my back.
She taught me something many years ago
that I'll never forget.
She said, "Young folks don't know
how to say 'I love you'...
...so you say it for them,
put it to 32 bars of music."
I guess I've written about a thousand
of those "I love you" songs...
...but never said it to my own girl.
- Except once, when she was under ether.
- Oh, Gus.
What's there to be ashamed of?
These are our friends.
Darling, if I never told it to you,
it wasn't that I didn't mean it.
It's just that I could never believe that a
face like this could say to a face like that...
..."I love you" and get away with it.
But I loved you the first day I saw you.
I love you now.
And God willing,
I'll love you as long as I live.
- Gus, how about singing a song, huh?
- Sing us the first one you ever wrote, huh?
You wouldn't believe it,
but I really don't even remember it.
Honestly, I wrote the song, but I'm sure
I don't remember all the words.
Will this help, Mr. Kahn?
Would you play it for me, Ms. LeBoy?
Gee, I wish that I had a girl
Like the other fellows had
Someone to make a fuss over me
To cheer me up when I feel sad
On Wednesday night, I'm all alone
When I ought to be up
At some sweetheart's home
And I'm lonesome, awful lonesome
Gee
I wish I had
A girl