City for Conquest Page #2

- I know that.

Boy, was it crowded tonight on the subway.

Talk about sardines. They got it easy.

At least they're floating in olive oil.

Look, Peggy, I'm making 27.50 a week now.

This time next year, we could be all set...

Always whispering, you two.

Carrying on. Sneaking in the hallway.

I won't stand for it, Danny Kenny.

We're a respectable family, we are.

If you wanna marry my Peggy,

you come into the parlor.

- Who's talking about marrying, Ma?

- Don't give me that sass.

My daughter talking to me

like that after all I've done.

Mrs. Nash, we're just sitting

here talking like always.

Talking. Whispering behind my back.

Afraid I'll hear you in the parlor.

There is no parlor. Just a kitchen and

a bedroom, if you wanna call them that.

What's the use? See you later, Danny.

Come on in, Ma, and please stop worrying.

I swore my daughter would

never go through what I did.

Skimping and saving, penny by penny, and

losing it all and starving ever since.

All right, Sydney, that'll be all. Practice

those scales an hour a day at least.

Here's a dollar. Mama said you

should give me change. Fifty cents.

What about the two dollars from last month?

- Mama said it should be just on account.

- Say, Danny, got any change?

- How much you need?

- Half a buck.

There it is.

- Give this to Mama with my compliments.

- Okay.

Oh, yeah. And Mama says when you

gonna give me a piece to learn?

She says to tell you she

likes "The Blue Danube."

So do I. That's why you're

not gonna play it yet, Sydney.

Okay.

I don't know why I keep giving that kid

lessons. He throws the piano out of tune.

You get it from Sydney. I

get it from the traffic cops.

- How's your music

coming, Eddie? - So-so.

Look, Danny.

I wanted to ask you if there's a

chance of getting a job with your boss.

- For who?

- Me.

- You?

- Yeah.

- Driving a truck?

- Or a helper, till I got a license.

Are you nuts? Another year,

you'll be through music school.

- I'm through right now.

- What?

- What about your scholarship?

- Yeah, they cut it in half.

- Gotta pay the rest in cash.

- What happened?

Like everything else, donations

slowing up, so they cut expenses.

It's no use, Danny. I've got

to start making my own way.

But when will you find time

to work on your own music?

- I'll find it sometime at night.

- You'll be all worn out.

Besides, you might even hurt your hands

shoving those cases around on the truck.

- How much you gonna need for that school?

- Hundred and fifty bucks.

- And it might just as well be 150,000.

- Look here, Eddie.

I don't wanna hear any more talk like that.

- You're gonna finish up.

- Well, I wanna finish, Danny...

...and I wanna finish my own music too.

You know I've been

working on it every minute.

Here, look. I've even

got a new idea on it now.

To make it into a symphony of New York.

The song of the magic

isle, a city for conquest.

A full symphony of it, with all

its proud, passionate beauty...

...and all of its sordid ugliness

and of its great wealth and power...

...and its everlasting hunger.

And of its teeming seven millions

and its barren loneliness.

Here, listen, Danny. It starts

with that part that you like.

That part that I call "The East River"...

...with the rumbling el over Allen

Street with its crowded gutters and slums.

With all of its mounting, shrieking jungle

- cries for life and sun.

And then carrying on the theme

up to the towering skyscrapers...

...and the story of all those who

tried to scale their dizzy heights...

...but crash, frustrated and

broken, to the concrete pavements.

And then of those few who

finally reach the top...

...only to find out that above them

are still the unattainable stars.

Gee, Eddie, you have ideas like that

and you're talking about driving a truck?

Play me that first part

again. The part I like.

Sure.

- Maxie knocked him out in the 11 th.

- Quiet.

- What's the matter?

- Tell Pinky that fight with Callahan is okay.

- No kidding, Danny?

- Have you got no ear for music?

- Sure, I can hear it.

- All right.

Ladies and gentlemen,

next bout of the evening.

At 146 pounds, the West

Side Terror, Kid Callahan.

And in this corner, at

144 and a half pounds...

...the former Golden Gloves

winner, Danny Kenny...

...entering the professional

ring as "Young Samson."

Take a bow, Danny.

- Where'd you get that moniker, Samson?

- The Bible. Wanna make something of it?

Hey, Danny, it's a cinch!

- Looks like a West Side turnout.

- Yeah.

Keep your left in his schnozzola.

When you see an opening, give

him the old one-two. Good luck.

Folks, I just wanna say that

these boys better be good...

...as we're honored to have with us tonight

no less than manager Scotty MacPherson...

...down from Madison

Bowl. Take a bow, Scotty.

Who's the new lad, Pinky?

From the East Side. Won the

Golden Gloves five years back.

First fight since. Nothing much, Scotty.

Tell you what I'll do, Scotty, I'll

lay you 20-10 that Callahan wins.

I'll tell you what, Bill. Make it a

real bet and I'll lay 2-1 on Samson.

- For how much?

- I'll bet 200 to 100.

- You've got a bet.

- Let me in on that.

- Okay. Same bet with you.

- Goldie. Goldie.

Ain't you even gonna back up your own

champ? Scotty's laying 2-1 on Samson.

It's a pleasure to oblige. Scotty,

I'll take 100 of that easy jack.

You're on. Anybody else?

If you're gonna be that generous, I'll

double it. And I don't mind telling you...

Hey, what's going on? What's happened?

Two, three...

...four, five, six...

- What's happened?...seven, eight, nine...

...ten.

- You got me into this. I lose a fortune.

- Accident.

Holy smoke. A welterweight

with a sock like Dempsey.

- Who's his manager, Scotty?

- I don't know, but I'll find out.

Listen. I don't usually go after a lad,

but I'd a hunch on you the minute I saw you.

I believe I can manage you

right up to the top rung.

That's very good to hear, but

I guess I just can't see it.

You'd sooner stick to

that truck-driving job?

- Sure. I like it.

- You're very hard to figure out.

You've got the makings of a

fighter but you don't like to fight.

I guess that's just it. I don't like

it. I don't know how to explain it...

...but I need a good reason to sock a guy.

A reason? I'll give you a good reason.

I'll guarantee you $500 on

your next card. How's that?

Skip it, Pinky. It's no go.

I've seen pugs who figured they

had it licked. Where are they?

Walking around on their heels,

punchy, all before their time.

Here. See that guy back there? Remember him?

Yes, I believe I do. Mickey Miller, isn't it?

- Nobody else. Great fighter, wasn't he?

- He certainly was.

- Mickey, come here.

- Me?

Yeah, you. Come here.

- You got that picture with you?

- Picture? Sure, sure.

Sure, I've got my picture.

That's me. That's my picture.

- Remember? Mickey Miller, that's me.

- Very nice, very nice.

- Thanks very much.

- That's all right. A good picture, isn't it?

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