The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T.

Get away! Get away! No!

Go on away!

Go on away!

Here, boy, here.

What's the matter?

Dr. Terwilliker, what happened?

What's going on around here?

Dreaming again.

I can't leave the room for five minutes.

-What were you dreaming about this time?

-I was being chased by men with nets.

Nets. Why can't you dream

about practicing the piano?

I'll try.

Don't you realize if you don't practice

you'll never become a concert pianist?

Practice makes perfect.

I'm trying to practice.

One month to learn that before I present

all my pupils in a grand concert.

I'm not going to let one dreary little

boy humiliate me. Do you understand?

I don't think the piano's

my instrument.

What other instruments are there,

pray tell?

Scratchy violins?

Screechy piccolos?

Nauseating trumpets?

Et cetera, et cetera!

We'll make a Paderewski

of you yet.

Who?

- Paderewski.

- Oh.

Now, I want you to practice

and practice and practice...

until you are perfect.

Good day, young man.

Well, that's my problem.

Dr. Terwilliker's

the only enemy I've got.

I can't think of one nice thing

to say about him...

because there isn't any.

Bart, darling!

That's my mother.

I like her.

I try to be everything

she wants me to be...

particularly

since my father died.

But, boy, she's as hipped on the piano

as Dr. Terwilliker.

Watch.

Is that as loud as you can play?

Now, now, sweetheart,

not that loud.

And not that soft.

Bart, I hate to hound you.

I know you think I'm a slave driver,

but you really are missing the beats.

Like Dr. Terwilliker

says in the book-

Ten little dancing maidens

dancing, oh, so fine

Ten happy little fingers

and they're mine, all mine

They're mine

They're mine

Now, isn't that just fine

Not three, not five

Not seven and not nine

But ten, all dancing

straight in line

And all of them

Are mine, mine, mine

Yes, they are mine, all mine

That's better.

Now you have it.

I'll get it!

Bart!

I'll get it.

I'll get it.

Oh, Peggy.

Ten little dancing maidens

dancing, oh, so fine

Ten happy little fingers

and they're mine, all mine

They're mine

They're mine

Now, isn't that just fine

Not three, not five

Not seven and not nine

But ten all dancing

straight in line

And all of them

are mine, mine, mine

Yes, they are mine, all mine

That's Bart you hear.

Still hates it like poison.

Sometimes I think

that Dr. Terwilliker...

has my mother hypnotized.

Holy mackerel,

I bet you that she-

That noise you hear is my friend,

Mr. Zabladowski, the plumber.

He knows all about the piano.

He's afraid to say so

in front of my mother.

He thinks Dr. Terwilliker

is a real racketeer.

Double phony.

Don't give me any more trouble.

Your job is pianos, my job is sinks.

Tell me, is Dr. Terwilliker

really a racketeer?

Did you tell him

Dr. Terwilliker was a racketeer?

Oh, I did not.

Keys, darling.

Now look here, you may be

the very best plumber in town...

but when it comes to piano lessons,

I hardly think you qualify as an expert.

I'm not trying

to qualify as anything.

You certainly aren't

helping me maintain discipline.

It's not easy to bring up a boy

without a father.

I realize that.

And maybe you're right.

Maybe even if he never learns the piano,

maybe the discipline's good for him.

Maybe.

There are no maybes about it.

I assure you,

I know what's good for him.

He'll learn to play that piano if I have

to keep him at that keyboard forever.

Forever?

Dr. Terwilliker

says I gotta practice.

Practice makes perfect.

Practice makes perfect.

Not bad.

But not good.

That's still not loud enough,

not fast enough.

Rhythm's still off.

Still misses the beats.

- What?

- It takes time.

It takes years.

Sometimes it actually does

take forever.

What?

My little watch tells me

that's all we can hope to do today.

Tomorrow, however-

Oh, tomorrow, what a day.

- At 6:
00 a.m., the others will arrive.

- What others?

You don't think I built

this great piano just for you.

Have you no concept that I am on the eve

of my greatest triumph?

Tomorrow, I will fulfill

the dream of my lifetime.

Tomorrow...

the Terwilliker institute-

my ""happy finger'' institute-

Tomorrow, we will celebrate

the official grand opening.

Tomorrow, down below me

I will have 500 little boys.

Five thousand little fingers.

And they'll be mine, all mine.

Practicing 2 4 hours a day...

365 days a year!

I don't believe it!

This is crazy!

Who are you to tell me

what is crazy?

Away! Go back to your cell.

And put on your official

Terwilliker beanie.

""Happy fingers''?

Here!

Sport! Sporty!

Practice makes perfect.

Practice makes perfect.

Bartholomew Collins!

The years you spend

with Dr. Terwilliker...

will be the happiest years

of your life.

But if you get homesick,

don't try to escape.

The barbed wire

around the Terwilliker Institute...

is electrified!

Mr. Zabladowski!

- Please, Bart. I'm a very busy plumber.

- What are you doing here?

What I'm always doing-

putting in sinks.

- For what?

- That's obvious.

Before Terwilliker

can open this institute...

he's got to make

the whole joint sanitary.

Got to have the proper sinkage

for 500 kids.

That's my department...

and that's your cell.

I gotta get outta here.

Relax. Don't take these

little things so seriously.

- After all, since your mother's here-

- My mother's here?

That's a silly question. You know

very well she's in the number two spot.

The number two spot?

Second in charge

of the whole ""happy finger'' racket.

My ma couldn't be mixed up

in any racket.

Look, partner,

I hate to speak badly about mothers.

After all, motherhood is

the noblest institution in our land.

But the fact remains that your ma

is number two at headquarters right now.

She wouldn't keep me

in a place like this.

- I gotta see her.

- I wouldn't advise it.

- You'll never make it.

- I can try.

Well, I wouldn't try.

I know. All you'd ever try for

is time and a half for overtime.

Terwilliker Institute.

Collins speaking.

Yes, madam, the official

grand opening is tomorrow morning.

Your son will be picked up by bus

at 5:
00 a.m. sharp.

Collins speaking.

No, madam, most definitely not.

Your son will not be allowed

to bring his baseball.

Dr. Terwilliker does not believe in

baseballs, golf balls or tennis balls...

Ping-Pong balls, snowballs,

croquet balls or hockey pucks.

Dr. Terwilliker

believes only in the piano.

Now see here, you beanie makers.

This final batch just isn't up to snuff.

Take a look at those fingers.

Would you say

they were happy fingers?

They should be gay,

carefree, happy fingers.

Fix them, if you have to

stay up all night.

Mom!

Why are you standing there

with that null-and-void expression?

No, don't tell me.

I know the workings of your mind,

Mrs. Collins.

You've been thinking

of your son again.

How many times must I tell you

to burn that picture?

You've room in your life but for one

picture. My picture, Mrs. Collins!

Your future husband!

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