High Society Page #5

FATHER:

If your vanity thinks

in terms of goddesses.

You have a good mind, Tracy.

You have a pretty face, a fine,

disciplined body that does what you tell it.

You have everything it takes to make

a lovely woman, except the one essential:

An understanding heart.

Without it, you might just as well

be made of bronze.

TRACY:

That's an awful thing to say to anyone.

FATHER:

It's an awful thing to have to say.

MOTHER:

Seth, that's too much.

FATHER:

I'm afraid it isn't enough.

MOTHER:

Darling, your father doesn't mean that.

Neither one of you means it.

Both of you seem to forget

that in striking out at each other

you hurt others besides yourself.

TRACY:

What's the matter with everyone

all of a sudden?

--------

TRACY:

Get in.

Are you learning anything

about the idle rich?

FRANK:

Yeah, they drive too fast.

Where we headed anyway?

TRACY:

The graveyard.

FRANK:

I'm not ready.

TRACY:

I thought I'd show you the playground

of the rich, the graveyard of wealth.

FRANK:

Well, for that I'm ready.

TRACY:

Beautiful, isn't it?

FRANK:

The grass needs cutting.

TRACY:

It's been boarded up for 15 years.

FRANK:

Why?

TRACY:

The high cost of being rich.

Most of the homes here are closed up

or sold for taxes.

Why don't you write about that?

FRANK:

You've got a chip on your shoulder

about me. Why?

TRACY:

Because you came here

with your mind already made up.

The time to make up your mind

about people is never.

FRANK:

I had an opinion.

TRACY:

Unfavorable and unfair.

FRANK:

Really? What exactly do you do

around here that's so worthwhile?

TRACY:

Do you consider what you do worthwhile?

Making a living off people's

personal lives and misfortunes?

FRANK:

I cannot pick and choose.

TRACY:

You could be anything you wanted to be.

But you'll never be a first-class writer

or human being

until you learn to have some

compassion or regard for human.

FRANK:

You were saying?

TRACY:

Nothing.

FRANK:

This is the second time you've

taken me for a ride. I don't like it.

TRACY:

Really?

FRANK:

Really, Miss Tracy Samantha.

Samantha. What a lovely, musical name.

Reminds me of an lndian cure

for snakebite.

What's it stand for? The name, I mean.

TRACY:

It stands for no nonsense.

FRANK:

What do you do beside collect husbands?

TRACY:

I mind my own business.

FRANK:

This happens to be my business.

For instance, how old are you,

Miss Lord? 26?

No children?

Time is flying.

What do you do in your spare time?

TRACY:

I sometimes endure arrogant reporters.

FRANK:

Arrogant, indeed.

Shall we keep this

on an impersonal basis?

TRACY:

Shall we continue with the full tour?

FRANK:

Gladly, Miss Lord.

But without the full treatment.

TRACY:

Another show place, Mr. Connor.

FRANK:

Yeah, that's quite a shack.

Who owns that?

TRACY:

My Uncle Willie.

It's being turned into a boys' school

next year.

He wanted to sell it for taxes. When he

Couldn't, he decided to give it away.

It was cheaper. Would you like to see it?

FRANK:

Sure.

-------

TRACY:

Good afternoon, Lawrence.

BUTLER1

I didn't hear you ring.

TRACY:

We barged in. Is Uncle Willie around?

BUTLER1

No, he hasn't returned from lunch yet.

TRACY:

That's right. I forget.

We'll be at the bar, if you don't mind.

BUTLER1

Not at all, Miss Tracy.

TRACY:

Good afternoon, John.

BUTLER2

Good afternoon, Miss Tracy.

FRANK:

Your Uncle Willie's getting kicked out?

TRACY:

They're getting ready for a party.

FRANK:

A last fling?

TRACY:

Sort of. It's my bachelor party.

Hello, Tommy.

BUTLER3

Good afternoon.

FRANK:

Girls only?

TRACY:

We're democratic. We're allowing men.

FRANK:

The only bachelor parties I attended

were with girls who came out of cakes.

TRACY:

Please, Mr. Connor. This is Newport.

FRANK:

This is a bar?

TRACY:

Uncle Willie's the kind of man who

doesn't like to go far when he's thirsty.

FRANK:

I'm gonna have to buddy it up

with Uncle Willie.

*BUCKSHELF TURNS INTO A BAR*

I had a bed that did that once.

TRACY:

Are you getting an interesting story on us,

Mr. Connor?

FRANK:

Why can't you break down

and call me Mike?

TRACY:

I couldn't possibly break down.

I was raised on a pedestal. Would you?

FRANK:

I sense something's bothering you

and I'm getting clobbered for it.

You're a darned attractive girl.

But instead of an orchid on your shoulder,

you're wearing a chip.

TRACY:

You think I'm attractive? A high priestess?

FRANK:

You're awful tough to figure.

TRACY:

When you write your story about us,

compare me to one of these homes

boarded up, a thing of the past,

a relic to be sold for taxes.

FRANK:

Miss Lord, you've got rocks in your head.

TRACY:

No. The truth is that I don't

fit into the landscape either.

The house has been boarded up too long.

FRANK:

There's an answer for that too.

Tear the boards down.

Throw open the windows

and let the wind blow through.

That's better.

--------

What goes on here?

There's a dark horse in this race

and my boy's running a slow third.

What we need is a little

change of pace music, Junior.

Now we're getting warm.

That's quite a brawl.

Yes. One of the prettiest sights

in this pretty world

is the sight of the privileged class

enjoying its privileges.

They're really not a bad bunch

when you get to know them.

You getting to know them?

Slowly.

"With the rich and mighty, it takes a little

patience." That's an old Spanish proverb.

Yes. Well, I come

from a long line of Swedes.

We have an old saying too:

"When the cat's away,

why should the mouse act like a rat?"

Liz! Liz, I've been looking for you.

Really? Well, I've been right here

all the time, Mr. Lord.

I beg your pardon? Oh, no, call me Seth.

Seth.

Your daughter doesn't resemble you.

In fact, there's an amazing difference.

Well, naturally. She's a girl, you know,

and I'm a wicked old man.

Willie!

Mary?

Dexter's looking for you.

Mrs. Lord, you called him Willie.

Miss Imbrie, there's a misunderstanding

which I'd like to clear up.

In the first place, I'm Seth Lord.

Yes. Yes.

Well, that makes you...

Available.

I don't get it.

Don't go away.

I'll be right back.

Oh, dear.

You are here in exchange

for repressing an article about me.

However, you should know

that I'll sue your editor

if anything derogatory

to any of us is published. Okay?

I hope you do.

Mr. Lord, Mrs. Lord, you must know

that Mike and I weren't told

anything about this.

Why, of course.

Mother!

Mother, I'm so glad to see you.

Mike.

Hello, Mr. Kittredge.

Hello, Father.

Miss Imbrie, you having a wonderful time?

Wonderful.

Mike, are you having a wonderful time?

It's a gasser.

Isn't that wonderful? George?

Shall we dance?

We were.

Goodbye.

George?

Are you having a wonderful time?

Isn't it a beautiful party?

Yes, a very nice party.

Wouldn't you like to sit down, dear?

Here? Don't be silly. We'll get stepped on.

I thought perhaps you were tired.

I see that Dexter's here.

Everybody's here.

Everybody's having a wonderful time.

That's nice, isn't it, George?

Yes, it's very nice, Tracy, very nice.

Very nice.

Thank you very much.

That was splendid. Very nice indeed.

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