Humoresque Page #3

It's his own sound like no one else,

on a piano, a violin, on any instrument.

That's communicated

between artist and audience.

That's what you call personality.

If he's got that, nothing matters.

If he doesn't, he might as well quit.

- You might have it.

- Then you think I'm terrific?

- You took the words out of your mouth.

- Am I ready for concerts?

- Sure.

- That's all I wanna know.

- Where you gonna play?

- I'll talk to them down at the school.

Rozner likes me,

he'll put in a good word.

Wait a minute. Take a look at this.

Here's a list of this week's concerts.

There must be hundreds of them.

There's pianists, violinists,

sopranists, tuba players.

All kinds of virtuosos.

You know what you're up against?

- What's that got to do with me?

- Want a debut?

You'll need a hall, tickets, a couple

of posters, some ads, publicity.

Let's say $ 750 will do it.

Do you have $ 750

kicking around loose?

- I thought a manager takes care of that.

- For you?

They never heard of you.

They'd put you on, sure.

Only you pay.

What does he do, pat me

on the back and pick my pocket?

Who goes to debuts?

Relatives and enemies.

You need connections

to get people to come.

A manager supplies

the audience. If he's good...

...he'll get a couple of critics

to hear you. That's important.

My playing. Doesn't that mean anything?

Sure, you fill the lull

between intermissions.

What are you gonna play on? Can't play

a concert on a cut-rate instrument.

You need a Strad or Guarnerius.

Do you have a spare 25G's to buy one?

I studied ten years, practiced

till my hands feel like wood. For what?

Don't give me any of that.

You should've told me this years ago.

You weren't good enough ten years ago.

You still thought music

was all moonlight.

You play the piano.

What have you done?

It's what you don't become that hurts.

Idealism is a luxury for the very young.

You're full of lectures.

You know all the answers.

- You give me a pang.

- Don't get sore at me.

- I didn't make the world.

- You're always giving out with advice.

You ought to mind your own business.

I didn't ask you to play for me.

That was your idea.

- You wanted my opinion? You got it.

- I asked for an opinion, not a sermon.

You have all the characteristics

of a successful virtuoso.

You're self-indulgent

and the hero of all your dreams.

You ought to dream yourself.

It might make you less cynical.

When I look at you,

I know what I wanna avoid.

One of us is offensive.

Why don't you blow.

Tchaikovsky. Couldn't have

happened to a nicer fellow.

What do you want it on,

whole wheat or rye?

Okay, we're both crazy.

- Where do we go from here?

- How about a party?

- Fine, send down for a couple beers.

- I mean the real thing.

- Hear of the Wrights?

- They invented the airplane.

Helen and Victor Wright?

It's hard to avoid them.

Pictures on the society page.

Very social.

They have a yen for La Vie Bohme.

Good food, good liquor, open house.

- They invite me for laughs.

- I don't feel in the mood for a party.

Don't be stupid, sweetheart.

Everybody goes there.

Maestros and dipsos,

corn-fed composers and calypsos.

It's the breeding ground

for successful careers.

Dozens of them have been launched

at the Wrights. Go put on your tie.

I'll crawl into my society pants.

Leave your hair mussed,

you look pretty that way.

I'll skip this round, thanks.

- How are you this evening?

- Fine, fine.

Quite a party. Does this

go on here all the time...

...or are you new here too?

- I'm an old hand at these parties.

- Who's that?

- Who?

- Over there.

- That's your hostess.

So that's Helen Wright?

They say she drinks like a fish.

Rumor hath it so.

Haven't you met her?

No.

She probably hasn't seen you yet.

- She's extremely near-sighted, you know.

- Really?

- What's her husband like?

- Weak.

Not a bad sort, just weak.

- Is he around?

- Yes, he's here.

- Where?

- Here.

Oh, Victor, Helen's been asking for you.

Oh, has she? Excuse me.

What do you do? You a fighter?

You look just like a prizefighter.

- Monte, I bet he's a prizefighter.

- I play violin.

I don't believe you. Go on,

play a violin. I dare you.

I bet you don't know which end

the music comes out of.

- The middle. It comes out of the middle.

- Monte, make him play.

- Would you?

- Sure, why not?

Just by accident, I happened

to have brought my violin.

Wonderful playing, isn't it?

Every time I look at you,

I get a fierce desire to be lonesome.

You can leave any time you like,

you know.

You're too shy

to tell me you detest me?

- Have we met?

- Never saw you before.

- I've enjoyed every moment of it.

- I've seen you somewhere.

- You ride the subways?

- Not very often.

You probably don't recognize

me with clothes on.

I pose for the underwear ads,

the body, scrawny.

Well, as long as you

can't resist me, sit down.

I still think you

look like a prizefighter.

Sid, they want me to play.

- What are you gonna play?

- Zigeunerweisen. Give me an A.

Hey! You just spoiled the beginning

of an odious relationship.

Okay.

Who is that?

I don't know. It's someone new.

With that talent,

he'll probably end up in jail.

Why?

I don't know. I've just got an idea

that all talented people end up in jail.

I make a stupid remark and you laugh.

You're stupid, Teddy.

Like him?

I'm constitutionally given

to enthusiasm about nothing.

Get my glasses for me

like a good boy, Teddy.

The genius needs a drink, Teddy.

- Gin or Scotch?

- No, thanks.

Two Scotches with

a dash of heather.

You play like a calliope.

I beg your pardon?

There's an original answer

for you. He begs my pardon.

You're not the man who got up and gave

his seat to the lady on the subway?

Do you come from the provinces?

I was born in New York.

Oh, here's that rare animal.

A New Yorker from New York.

New York is full

of all kinds of animals.

Not all of them were born here.

Did you mean that as an insult?

I'm a very difficult person

to insult, Mr...

- You do have a name, don't you?

- Sure.

I'm in the telephone book under violins.

Mrs. Wright,

this is my friend Paul Boray.

And I'm sure that any friend

of mine is not welcome here.

Bad manners, Mr. Boray.

The infallible sign of talent.

Shall I make a prediction?

Soon the world will

divide itself into two camps.

Pro-Boray and anti-Boray.

Which camp are you in,

Mrs. Wright? Pro or anti?

Why...? Why did Helen ride him like that?

She's merely getting interested.

- What else, Mrs. Cline?

- How much are your apples?

- Five cents a piece.

- I'll have one.

- What are you having, a party?

- Philip.

Finish this order.

Something else, Mrs. Cline?

- Do you have any butter?

- Lots of it.

- How much a pound?

- Forty-five cents.

At the corner,

it's only 30 cents a pound.

- Why don't you get it there?

- They're out of it.

- When we're out it's only 10 cents.

- I'm gonna put him on the stage.

We just got some

fine Wisconsin sauerkraut.

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