Young Man With A Horn Page #6

- What are you talking about?

- You mean, you don't know?

He got hit by a car. He's in Bellevue

in a pretty bad way, they tell me.

- Yes?

- A man named Hazzard. He got run over.

- Where is he?

- Hazzard, huh?

Hazzard.

I'm sorry, no visitors.

- I've gotta see him. Just for a minute.

- You heard me. No visitors.

- I wanna see him. Where is he?

- It's 344.

But you can't go up there.

Don't you understand?

You're not allowed up there.

- How is he?

- I'm sorry.

I know it's against the rules,

but I gotta see him.

I gotta tell him something. It's important

to him too. Just for a minute.

It's too late. I'm sorry.

Sorry about our date.

I got tied up and couldn't get home.

It's all right.

How's school?

Fine.

To tell the truth, I don't know.

I haven't been there lately.

I had a hunch you hadn't.

Didn't I tell you?

I flunked my finals.

No, you didn't tell me.

- But I'm sorry.

- Don't be.

Maybe I'll try again.

Maybe I won't.

Or maybe I'll go to Europe

and try becoming a painter.

I met a girl the other day, an artist.

Maybe we'll go to Paris together.

I used to paint when I was a child.

Very well too.

I can do a lot of things very well

but not well enough.

Nothing that really matters.

You're tired, Amy.

Why don't you go to bed.

I think I will.

I almost forgot.

I'm having some people over

for cocktails tomorrow.

Have to celebrate my glorious defeat.

You'll be here, won't you?

I want to show off

my wonderful husband.

Your husband.

That's a laugh.

Amy, why did you ever marry me?

It was wonderful experience

for both of us.

Besides...

...how do you know about anything

until you try it?

I don't mean to hurt you, Richard. It's...

It's only that I'm jealous of you.

Jealous?

I'd give anything to have

what you've got...

...to be able to do one thing well

and know it's worth something.

It's the only real security in the world.

Maybe that's really why I married you.

I thought some of it would rub off on me.

But it hasn't.

Amy. I'm sorry, Amy.

Don't you dare pity me!

We are gathered here not only

to pay homage to a great musician...

...but to remind ourselves of the goodness

in the soul of this man...

...Art Hazzard...

...and to meditate upon

the unselfish spirit of generosity...

...which was his.

For he was truly a man's friend.

And now a hymn will be given

by his friends.

I've never seen so many characters.

Amy collects characters like

some collect antiques.

What happened to that

trumpet player?

Why, you're Amy's husband, aren't you?

Rick Martin. You're unforgivably late.

- You certainly are.

- Amy promised us tunes. Now it's over.

Yes, it is.

I'm dying to see the rest

of your sketches.

We'll have dinner out

and then go back to my place.

How nice of you to come

to the party, Richard.

This is my husband. Miss Carson.

I told you about her.

The girl who paints so well.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

- See you at 9, then, Amy.

- Fine.

It's been a wonderful party.

You certainly made a fool of me.

- Didn't you get my note?

- It's in the fire.

Well, I'm sorry.

I told everyone you were going to be here.

You make it a point not to show up.

You know why I couldn't.

What could you do for him?

He's dead, isn't he?

So there's one less trumpet player.

So what?

Look, you're drunk, Amy.

And you're sick.

Maybe a trumpet player isn't much to be...

...but it's what Art Hazzard was,

and that's what I am.

- You and your alter ego, that cheap brass.

- You can do a lot of things, Amy...

...so you don't do any of them.

I can only do one.

That trumpet's part of me.

It's the best part.

You almost made me forget that.

You're so confused yourself,

you got me confused.

I'm not confused any longer.

I'm fed up with you.

I'm sick of you trying to touch me.

I'm sick of the sound of brass.

I never want to hear a trumpet again.

Get these records out of here.

I don't wanna listen to them again!

You dirty...

What a dope I was.

I thought you were class, like a real

high note you hit once in a lifetime.

I couldn't understand

what you said half the time.

Well, you're like those carnival joints.

Big flash on the outside,

but on the inside, nothing but filth.

- I hate you.

- You've always hated me.

What a swell combination we were.

You said you wanted experiences, Amy.

Well, here's one for you:

- I'm leaving you.

- I'd like to kill you.

You almost did.

You're a sick girl, Amy.

You'd better see a doctor.

Wrap it up, boys.

That was a fine exhibition

you put on out there, Rick.

What you do on your own is your business,

but my boys don't drink while working.

- I can't sit sober listening to your music.

- It seems you've done all right with it.

Whoever heard of you

until I gave you a break?

- Lay off me tonight, please, Mr. Morrison.

- I won't stand for a lush.

What do you think this is,

a spasm band like Hazzard's?

Why, you stupid...

Talking that way about him.

If your tin ear could really hear the music

he played, you'd go shoot yourself.

- Watch it, Rick.

- I know what I'm doing!

You're looking for a new trumpet man.

I'm through.

You sure are.

Little off beat, aren't you?

I don't think he wants

to split up any more than you.

But I do. I don't wanna work with anybody.

I'm not gonna be tied down.

From now on, I'm playing it my way.

- You want company?

- You got a good job. Keep it.

I don't care if I never get

another cent out of it.

Music's not a business to me.

Hey, Smoke, how about getting

together tonight with the guys?

- Go over to one of the Jersey joints?

- Sure.

You get the car,

and I'll get the potato salad.

- What time is it anyway?

- What's the difference?

Hey!

What's everybody quitting for?

Oh, come on, Johnny.

We got lots of time.

But I got a recording date at 10:00,

and I'm dead before I'll begin.

I'm so tired I can't hold on to my horn.

I got just the other trouble.

This keeps sticking to my hand.

I can't shake it off.

- Let's cut out. I'm beat.

- See you at the studio.

- Yeah.

- Oh, come on. Let's kick it around.

Hey, just once more, fellas,

what do you say?

Don't you ever sleep?

Hey, Smoke, you stick by me, huh?

Just a few more licks.

Just a few...

Hey, Rick, what's the matter?

Hey, what's the matter?

- Are you all right? Well, get up.

- I'm okay, I...

- Where's my...?

- Right there. Sit down.

And don't do that again.

You really scared me.

It felt like I fell a long, long way.

- Here.

- No, no, that's...

Hey, Smoke.

Hey, you know what we ought to do?

We ought to make our own records.

Make them the way we want.

Boy, we could make records

that'd really split them wide open.

Make them sit up.

Do some of the old ones Art

used to do, like...

..."Dinah" and "Twelfth Street Rag"

and "Louisiana Blues."

They won't buy them.

- Who won't?

- People.

You know who buys records?

High school girls.

You know why?

To learn the words. They only buy

the new songs to learn the words.

I never thought of it that way.

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