Roxie Hart Page #5

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the queen of them all

once more resumed her throne.

Rock-a-bye, baby

on the treetop

Chicago, Chicago

That toddlin'town, toddlin'town

When the wind blows

the cradle will rock

Chicago, Chicago

When the bough breaks

the cradle will fall

Chicago, that toddlin'town

And down will come baby

cradle and all

Chicago

Slowly, my dear.

Slowly.

Yes, Daddy.

- Perhaps you better call me something else.

- Yes, Daddy.

Boy!

Oh, you poor dear child.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

I'm such a bother these days.

- Comfortable, my dear?

- Yes, Dad... dear Mr. Flynn.

Game little woman.

I've never seen anything like it.

Isn't it gorgeous?

Aren't you glad?

Glad? Glad?

To have your child born here?

Now, now, dear, you promised me

not to get upset again.

Oh, what a story!

What a tragedy!

When is it to be, dear?

Oh.

Not till summer. June.

Harrison's trying to postpone the trial,

you know, till after election.

For myself, it don't matter,

but for the little one...

Fat lot Harrison cares about that.

Hello, Mr. Callahan.

We'll make him care.

I'll see to that.

I'll call every woman's club in the city,

every mothers' and teachers' association.

- Oh, Mr. Callahan,

- Hmm?

I think Miss Baxter's

trying to attract your attention.

We'll start a petition, get thousands

and thousands and thousands of names.

- Swell! Great idea!

- Boy!

Demanding that bail be granted so an innocent

babe can be born in God's great outdoors.

You mean in the woods?

- No, not bail, for immediate trial.

- Oh, swell, Mary.

- Jake, I think Miss Baxter wishes to speak with you.

- Yeah.

- She probably has a scoop for you.

- Hiya, Gertie.

- Just a minute.

Who's that dame! Scram, sister!

Upstairs, Gertie.

This is private.

Scat!

Ahh, poor Miss Baxter.

She seems to live such a lonely life.

I've got it!

Oh, I've got it!

- Yeah?

- We'll demand that the trial start on Mother's Day.

- Wonderful, Mary!

- Swell idea.

But I'm the father.

Don't you understand? I'm the father!

Ain't there any room at all

for the father?

How many people did the state charge

with the shooting of Casely? One.

How many did the grand jury indict?

One.

How many are named in the charge?

One.

Then how can the state try two?

That's a mighty pretty question,

Counselor.

Yeah.

Don't you worry, my dear.

The American public will fight

to the death for you and your wee one.

But will we beat the rap?

That's the rancid test.

Every true woman in the country

will be with you spiritually, Mrs. Hart.

Motherhood itself will be at stake.

You've been so kind, Miss Sunshine.

If it's a girl,

I'd like to name it after you.

Oh, you darling!

Oh, that is just too sweet.

And if it's a boy, after you, Jake.

No, not me, honey.

Thanks just the same.

You slip it to Billy here.

Well, I appreciate the honor,

naturally...

but I happen to be married, and happily,

and would like to remain so.

Mr. Flynn,

Mr. Hart's outside making quite a fuss.

- He's got a crust.

- He wants to make it up with her.

Over my dead body! He turned on her,

and he's gotta stay turned on her.

He can't switch back and forth

like that. I'll never get a defense set.

- Shall I tell them to throw him out?

- No, I'll see him.

We can't allow him

to have any sympathy at all.

He's got to be the heavy throughout.

I'll have to get him to divorce you.

If you don't lay off me, so help me...

I just want to give you a cigar,

that's all.

- From you, I wouldn't take Clara Bow.

- Be with you in a minute.

- Take your time.

- Mr. Flynn, the cigars are on me this time.

Well, Hart, I congratulate you.

- Thanks, old man.

- That's the way to take it. Be a good sport about it.

- Came as quite a surprise too, you know.

- What does that matter?

The whole affair was obviously somewhat

awkward. You're a man of the word, aren't you?

Yes, but what do you mean,

"Be a good sport"?

Exactly.

Now, I'm a bit older than you are, Hart.

Sit down.

I've seen such situations

arise before...

and the only way

to take them is philosophically.

- Just laugh it off, that's all.

- Laugh?

Yes. No matter what they say to you,

just laugh at them.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you.

Weep, and you look like a chump.

Maybe I better hold on to this

for a little while yet.

- What's the matter?

- Maybe I ain't as big a chump as I look.

- Hart, you're not going to be a cad.

- Who says I ain't?

- Nobody can't make a fool out of me, you know.

- You amaze me.

You talk as if you were

going to divorce her.

- And maybe that ain't all.

- What do you mean?

You think you're so smart,

the both of you.

I know what you're figuring! You're

figuring if the going gets too tough...

you're gonna call in Finnegan,

and he'll clear her and hang it on me.

Well, you ain't.

And you know why you ain't?

Because Finnegan is dead. Yeah!

Last week.

He had another stroke, and he's dead!

- Finnegan? Who is Finnegan?

- Not is, was.

Who was Finnegan?

Just tell her that, Mr. Wise Guy...

and see what she says.

He's dead. Finnegan is dead!

Is that the way

them big-shot lawyers go at a case?

That's the way

Mr. Billy Flynn went at one.

You'd think

they'd throw him out of the courts.

They did.

Skullduggery in the first degree.

All right, go on, Homer.

I wanna hear

what you've got to say about the trial.

The day of the big game

dawned crisp and clear.

This account of the Roxie Hart trial,

ladies and gentlemen...

comes to you through the courtesy

of Dr. Habakuk Twist...

president and founder

of the Twist Health Institute...

who guarantees to cure you

of cancer, dropsy, gout...

Bright's disease, lumbago, rheumatism,

or sleeping sickness...

or any combination of such diseases

in five days by mail.

Your play-by-play announcer

for the trial...

will be that veteran crime expert

of the Daily Gazette, Mr. Jake Callahan.

Take it away, Jake Callahan.

Now, uh, at that point, you weep.

- I just wept.

- Well, then weep again...

and every other time I say so!

I may not know much law, but I do

know juries, and that's all we need.

Where was I?

Mmm.

My innocent unborn babe.

Yeah. On that,

you throw your head back... nobly.

Good. But don't look at the jury

on that. Just forget 'em.

Seek the eyes of your husband.

He has divorced me and cast me aside...

but he is still the father of my child.

- "And the man I really love. "

- And the man I really love.

- You don't have to go down to the floor!

- You said slump, didn't you?

But gently, delicately, like a lady.

You were going on like a sea lion.

- Now, the cross-examination. - He

better watch his step, that Harrison.

- If he starts calling me names, I'll crown him.

- Just cry!

Now listen. No matter what he says

or how mad he gets, you shrink.

Shrink!

And cower.

And cry...

with a little flutter.

Until the jury wants to rise up

and tear him limb from limb!

And never forget... always you're

frightened and helpless and demure.

Demure, I said.

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