Gold Diggers of 1937 Page #3

Yeah, and very true.

- It's still raining though, isn't it?

- Oh, speaking of the weather again, huh?

Speaking of the weather...

Speaking of the weather...

Speakin' of the weather

It isn't the humidity, it's you

Come donner, come blitzen

Come pitter or pat

What in thunder is thunder

Compared to my heart

When it beats like that?

Speakin' of the weather

Speakin' of the thunder

Speakin' of the lightning

It's frightening, dear

What your eyes can do

Let the heavens crash

Zoom and swirl

Let it flash

Boy meets girl

Speakin' of the weather

Good old weather

Ain't it lovely weather?

And, incidentally, I love you

Pardon me, miss

Do you belong to this umbrella?

Pardon me, miss

It matches your eyes

Speaking of eyes

If they belong to this umbrella

They should be sheltered at once

From those threatening skies

Speaking of skies

And the storm in view

If that's your conversation,

I've some work to do

Oh, so thou would'st

forbid me speak, eh?

About the weather?

- Aye.

- Nay.

But the hour is noon, thy work is done.

It may be noon, but it's just begun.

Pray let me speak,

whil'st thou fiddlest the keys.

Speak if thou must, but softly, please.

Speakin' of the weather

Speakin' of the weather

Speakin' of the weather

It isn't the humidity, it's you

Come donner, come blitzen

Come pitter or pat

Your nose loves the raindrops

Your nose knows the rose

Always grows from that

Speakin' of the weather

Speakin' of the thunder

And speakin' of the lightning

It's frightening, dear

What your eyes can do

Let the heavens crash, zoom, and swirl

Let it flash

A boy meets girl

Speakin' of the weather

Good old weather

Ain't it lovely weather?

And, incidentally, I love you

And what is this?

- We were just speaking about the weather.

- Fun's fun but...

Yeah, I know,

"Life insurance is immortal. "

- Miss...

- Perry. Norma Perry.

I'm terribly sorry.

Rosmer,

you can't sell insurance this way.

Or any other way.

Optimism's what you need.

- Do or die.

- Sink or swim.

- Strike while the iron's hot.

- Insurance can be sold.

- Statistics prove it.

- Now you're getting the idea, come on.

- Oh, Andy.

- I know what you're gonna say.

- I wanna quit.

- Quit?

Would you lay down your tools

before the job was done?

- Would you be branded before men?

- All right, all right.

You'll sell a million yet.

Come on. And remember,

"The good life keeps rolling along. "

Yeah, and we roll with it.

- We're going out, Miss Perry.

Yes, sir.

And remember,

"Life insurance is immortal. "

Yes, sir.

- That's the spirit.

Come on, Rossie.

Would you call Andy if I kissed you?

Not unless you wanna kiss him too.

That's for me.

That's for you.

- Norma.

- Norma.

Norma.

How are you, darling?

Gen, you look wonderful.

Isn't it marvelous?

- We were just coming after you.

- Throw down that pencil and climb back.

- Why? What's happened?

Well, Mr. Wethered, the new boyfriend,

is a partner of J.J. Hobart, the producer...

...and J.J. Is putting on a show.

And we're all going to be in it.

Come, we'll meet the boys

at Embassy Club.

- And have lunch.

- And maybe shopping afterwards.

No, thanks. I wouldn't care about that.

You don't mean to say you like

this life insurance business?

There's a boy in the office,

one of the salesmen.

Oh, I get it.

I know when I'm well off,

those paychecks come in like clockwork.

The poor child. Must be the heat.

Or love.

Something.

Is there nothing we can do?

Nope. Oh, yes, find somebody

who wants insurance.

If anybody wants it, we'll find them.

Maybe we can sell the boys.

- Yeah.

- That's grand.

We've gotta go.

They're waiting for us.

Bye.

Bye-bye.

To the Embassy, Pierre.

Hello, Wethy, baby.

Hello, Hugo, you little darling.

Not in public, Irene.

- Mr. Hugo, Miss Larkin, Miss...

LaVerne.

- How do you do?

- Where is my sugar daddy?

Didn't you bring one for me

sure enough?

I thought we will meet Mr. J.J. Hobart.

He wouldn't come, he felt too sick.

What's Sally supposed to do?

Twiddle her thumbs?

Sally can twiddle anything.

I'm sorry, something's happened.

Got to speak to you alone.

Will you excuse us, please?

- One champagne cocktail and a martini.

Yes.

Baby, what's the matter?

Oh, judgment day has sounded.

J.J. Insists on putting on the show.

What's wrong with that?

He's been putting on shows for 20 years.

Sit down

so that you can stand the shock.

Well, what's the matter?

We haven't got the money

to do the show.

- You mean, J.J.'s broke?

- Yeah, almost, and he doesn't know it.

We got a tip on the market, we lost.

We tried to get it back, we lost more.

Oh, it's all becoming very clear.

And when the time comes for J.J.

To sign the check, he's going to find out.

And then we're gonna be out on our ears

and very possibly behind the bars.

Why don't you talk him out

of doing the show?

As though we haven't tried.

If only something would happen to him.

He's been on the edge for months.

If only he'd fall apart while there's time.

What good would that do?

Wouldn't they investigate the books?

Gen, you've got to think of something,

my mind is blank.

J.J. Is likely to find that out too.

Well, has Genevieve got any ideas?

Shh.

- She's thinking.

- Really?

Boys, I've got it.

- What?

- Got what?

Insure him.

Make yourselves beneficiaries.

If he can't last longer, insure the brains and

spirit of Hobart, Wethered and Hugo.

How can we do it?

Get one of those high pressure men with

facts and statistics, let him do the selling.

That's what we need, high pressure.

- Wait, wait, I've got it.

- Got what?

My brother's wife's brother...

No, no, now, let's keep

your family out of this.

Your sister's husband's cousin

gave us that tip on the market.

What we need is a stranger.

Well, I have just the one for you.

The Good Life Agency.

- I never heard of them.

- So much the better.

Hand me that telephone.

- Hello.

- Hello, Good Life Agency?

This is Genevieve Larkin.

Hello, Gen.

Hello, this is Morty Wethered speaking.

Yes, of Hobart, Wethered and Hugo.

I wanna talk to your best salesman,

please.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, wait a minute.

Answer the phone, quickly.

Hello.

Look, we want one of your best men

sent over here to handle a little policy.

Oh, well,

there's no one in the office right now.

Talk to him.

Hey, hey, will I do? I mean...

Well, you said your best man.

What's the name?

Oh, our best man is named Andy.

Rosmer Peek.

Oh, yes, yes, he's our best man.

There's no doubt about that.

Hobart Theatre, 2:00?

Yes, sir, positively.

Wow!

Norma,

somebody actually wants insurance.

- Oh, wonderful.

- Life insurance is immortal.

Good afternoon, Mr. Hobart.

Good afternoon, J.J.

Good afternoon, Mr. Hobart.

Good afternoon, Mr. Hobart.

Good afternoon, Mr. Hobart.

Yeah, what's good about it?

- Good afternoon, chief.

- Good afternoon, J.J.

Stop slamming doors, soften your tone.

Please, have a little respect

for a tired old man.

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