Note: This is the synthesis. See scene by scene analysis here
|Dialogue||8.0||72||Silence of the lambs: 7.9||Inception: 8.0|
|Characters||8.2||51||Mr Robot: 8.1||heathers : 8.2|
|Plot||7.5||13||As good as it gets: 7.4||get out: 7.5|
|Conflict Level||6.3||10||The good place draft: 6.2||legally blonde: 6.3|
|Overall||7.8||7||Clerks: 7.7||sense 8: 7.8|
|Concept||7.2||5||The sweet hereafter: 7.1||some like it hot: 7.2|
|Emotional Impact||5.8||3||The Good place release: 5.5||some like it hot: 5.8|
|Story Content||Character Development||Scene Elements||Audience Engagement|
|Scene Number||Full Analysis||Tone||Overall Grade||Concept||Plot||Characters||Character Changes||Conflict||High stakes||Story forward||Emotional Impact||Dialogue|
|1||The Funeral Heist||9||8||9||9||0||10||0||0||7||8|
|2||Mulligan attends the funeral||7||7||7||7||0||5||0||0||3||7|
|4||Musicians in a Pinch||8||7||7||8||0||6||0||0||5||9|
|5||Desperate Job Search||7||6||6||8||0||6||0||0||4||9|
|7||Joe's Plan to Borrow Nellie's Car||7||7||6||8||0||5||0||0||4||7|
|8||Escape from Toothpick Charlie's Garage||8||7||8||7||0||10||0||0||7||7|
|9||Joe and Jerry make a getaway and seek refuge in a cigar store||8||7||8||8||0||9||0||0||7||9|
|10||Cross-Dressing Musicians Board Train||8||7||8||8||0||5||0||0||6||8|
|11||Meeting the Girl Musicians||8||7||6||8||0||4||0||0||4||9|
|12||Meeting Sugar Cane||8.5||8||9||8||0||6||0||0||5||8|
|13||Rehearsal with the Society Syncopators||8||7||8||9||0||6||0||0||5||8|
|14||Getting Ready for Bed||8||7||8||9||0||5||0||0||5||7|
|16||Sugar spills on her history with saxophone players||8||7||7||9||0||3||0||0||5||8|
|18||Jerry Reveals His Secret||8||7||7||9||0||8||0||0||7||9|
|19||Arrival at the Seminole-Ritz Hotel||7||6||7||8||0||4||0||0||5||7|
|20||The Elevator Encounter||8||7||7||9||0||7||0||0||6||10|
|22||A Plan in Motion||8||7||8||9||0||6||0||0||5||7|
|24||Josephine's Bubble Bath||8||7||7||8||0||7||0||0||6||9|
|25||Dinner Invitation on a Yacht||8.5||8||8||9||0||7||0||0||7||9|
|26||Daphne and Sugar Get Invited to a Yacht Party||7||8||7||7||0||5||0||0||6||7|
|27||A Night on the Water||8.5||8||9||9||0||5||0||0||7||8|
|28||Exploring the Yacht||7||7||6||8||0||2||0||0||5||8|
|29||Dinner on the Yacht||8||7||7||9||0||4||0||0||6||8|
|30||The Perfect Kiss||9.5||8||9||10||0||3||0||0||9||9|
|32||The Arrival of Spats Colombo||7.5||7||8||7||0||9||0||0||6||7|
|33||Caught in the Elevator with Spats||8||7||8||8||0||9||0||0||6||9|
|34||Joe and Sugar's Phone Call||7||6||7||8||0||5||0||0||6||8|
|35||The Bracelet and the Bon Voyage||7||6||7||8||0||7||0||0||6||7|
|36||Spats and his henchmen are onto them||8||7||8||8||0||9||0||0||6||7|
|37||Under the Table||8||9||8||7||0||9||0||0||7||8|
|38||The Assassination at the Banquet||8||9||8||7||0||9||0||0||6||8|
|39||The Getaway at the Ballroom||8||7||9||8||0||9||0||0||7||7|
|40||A Twist in the Plans||8||9||7||9||0||6||0||0||8||8|
Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond
November 12, 1958
CITY AT NIGHT
A hearse of Late Twenties vintage is proceeding at a dignified
pace along a half-deserted wintry street.
Inside the hearse, there are four somber men in black -- and
a coffin, of course, with a wreath of chrysanthemums on top.
One of the men is driving, another is in the seat beside
him. The other two are sitting in the rear of the hearse,
flanking the coffin. All four seem fully aware of the
solemnity of the occasion.
Now they hear a SIREN, faint at first, but rapidly growing
louder. The driver and the man next to him exchange a nervous
glance. The other two men move tensely toward the rear door
of the hearse, raise the black curtain over the glass panel,
and peek out cautiously.
Through the glass panel, they see a police car bearing down
on them, the red light blinking, the SIREN screaming.
The two men at the rear window gesture to the driver to step
on it. He does.
The hearse, obviously a souped-up job, instantly picks up
speed, weaves crazily through traffic, the police car in hot
pursuit. The hearse careens around a corner at eighty miles
an hour, the police car right on its tail.
By this time the policemen are leaning out of their car with
drawn guns, firing at the hearse.
The two men in the rear of the hearse, flattened against the
sides, pull a couple of sawed-off shotguns out of a hidden
overhead rack. Police bullets smash the glass panel and
whistle through the hearse. The driver and the man next to
him duck, but the hearse continues at the same breakneck
speed. The two men in back shove their guns through the
shattered glass, fire at the police car.
Despite the hail of lead, the police car -- its windshield
cobwebbed with bullet holes -- gains on the hearse.
Suddenly the car skids out of control, jumps the curb, comes
to a screeching stop. Policemen leap out, fire after the
In the speeding hearse, the last of the police bullets thud
into the coffin. Instantly three geysers of liquid spurt
through the bullet holes. As the firing recedes, the two men
in the back put away their guns, remove the wreath from the
coffin, take the lid off. The inside is jam-packed with
bottles of booze, some of them shattered by the bullets. As
the men start to lift out the broken bottles --
SUPERIMPOSE: CHICAGO, 1929
EXT. INTERSECTION OF STREETS - NIGHT
Traffic is light. All the shops are dark except one -- a
dimly lit establishment, from which drift the mournful strains
of an organ. A circumspect sign reads:
MOZARELLA'S FUNERAL PARLOR
24 Hour Service
In the window, a sample coffin is on display.
There seem to be some rites going on inside, because a number
of mourners, singly and in couples, are hurrying from the
cold, windy street into Mozarella's parlor.
Meanwhile, the hearse with the damp coffin draws up to the
delivery entrance at the side of the building. The driver
honks the horn -- one long and two short -- as the other men
step down and start to slide the coffin out. The side door
opens, and a dapper gent emerges. He wears a tight-fitting
black suit, a black fedora, and gray spats. The spats are
very important. He always wears spats. His name is SPATS
COLOMBO. He cases the street, motions the men inside. As
they carry the coffin past him, he removes his fedora, holds
it reverently over his heart. Then he follows the men in,
his head bowed.
Across the street and around the corner, three police cars
draw up silently, and about fifteen uniformed policemen and
plain-clothes men spill out. A Captain gives whispered orders,
and the men scatter and discreetly take up positions around
the funeral parlor.
Out of one of the cars steps MULLIGAN, a tough Federal Agent --
in plain clothes, of course. With him is a little weasel of
a man, shivering with cold and fear. They call him TOOTHPICK
CHARLIE for two reasons -- because his name is Charlie, and
because he has never been seen without a toothpick in his
All right, Charlie -- this the joint?
And who runs it?
I already told you.
Refresh my memory.
That's very refreshing. Now what's
I come to Grandma's funeral.
(he hands him a folded
piece of black crepe)
Here's your admission card.
If you want a ringside table, tell
'em you're one of the pall bearers.
The police captain joins Mulligan.
We're all set. When is the kickoff?
As Mulligan consults his watch, Charlie, the toothpick working
nervously in his mouth, tugs Mulligan's sleeve.
Look, Chief -- I better blow now,
because if Spats Colombo sees me,
it's Goodbye Charlie.
Charlie scoots up the dark street, disappears.
(to the police captain)
Give me five minutes -- then hit 'em
with everything you got.
They synchronize their watches. Then Mulligan crosses to
Mozarella's parlor, unfolding the black crepe Charlie gave
him. It is a mourning band, and he slips it over the left
sleeve of his overcoat.
It looks legitimate enough -- with potted palms, urns and
funeral statuary. A harmless gray-haired man is playing the
organ with appropriate feeling. Daintily arranging a funeral
spray is the proprietor himself, MR. MOZARELLA.
His heavyweight build, bashed-in nose and cauliflower ears
don't quite jibe with his mourning coat, striped pants, ascot
and carnation. Dusting one of the marble angels is another
funeral director, in the same somber uniform.
(with grave sympathy)
Good evening, sir.
I come to the old lady's funeral.
(looking him over)
I don't believe I've seen you at any
of our services before.
That's because I've been on the wagon.
Where are they holding the wake? I'm
supposed to be one of the pallbearers.
(to funeral director)
Show the gentleman to the chapel --
pew number three.
This way, sir.
He leads Mulligan past the organ toward the black-paneled
wall, where there is no evidence of a door.
The organist, without missing a note in his playing, reaches
over to the end of the keyboard and pulls out a stop. One of
the panels slides open, and there is a blast of MUSIC from
the chapel. It's jazz -- and it's SWEET GEORGIA BROWN.
Mulligan rears back momentarily, then follows the funeral
director in. The organist pushes the stop in again, and the
panel slides shut.
Grandma must have been quite a person, because she left a
lot of condoling friends behind, and they are holding a very
lively wake. The chapel is jumping. A small band is blaring
out SWEET GEORGIA BROWN. The musicians are not the slick,
well-fed instrumentalists you would find in Guy Lombardo's
band -- they have all been through the wringer, and so have
their threadbare tuxedos. On the stamp-sized dance floor,
six girls in abbreviated costumes are doing a frenetic
Charleston. Crowded around the small tables, mourners in
black arm-bands are drowning their sorrows in whatever they
drink out of their coffee cups.
Well, if you gotta go -- this is the
way to do it.
The funeral director leads Mulligan to a table next to the
bandstand. As he moves off, a waiter comes up.
What'll it be, sir?
Sorry, sir, we only serve coffee.
Scotch coffee, Canadian coffee, sour-
Make is Scotch. A demitasse. With a
little soda on the side.
As the waiter starts away, Mulligan stops him.
Haven't you got another pew -- not
so close to the band?
(points to a better
How about that one?
Sorry, sir. That's reserved for
members of the immediate family.
He winks, goes off. Mulligan scans the room.
From a side door comes Spats Colombo, followed by the four
hearsemen. They walk cockily toward the table 'reserved for
the immediate family.' A DRUNK, standing with a cup of booze
in his hand, is in their way. Colombo pushes him aside, and
the contents of the cup slop over. Colombo freezes in his
tracks, glances at his feet. The other four men have also
stopped, and stare in the same direction, horrified.
Spats Colombo's immaculate spats are no longer immaculate.
There is a whiskey stain on one of them.
Colombo throws his henchmen a sharp look. They grab the
offending drunk, hustle him toward the exit.
(waving empty cup)
Hey -- I want another cup of coffee.
I want another cup of coffee.
Colombo proceeds toward the table, seats himself, crosses
his legs, takes a handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and
meticulously mops the moist spat. His four companions, their
mission accomplished, join him at the table.
Mulligan, who has been studying Colombo, consults his wrist-
watch. The waiter comes up with his order -- a demitasse
half full of Scotch, and a split of club soda.
Better bring the check now -- in
case the joint gets raided.
Who's going to raid a funeral?
Some people got no respect for the
The waiter moves off. Mulligan sips from the cup, winces,
takes a cigar out of his pocket and starts to light it. His
eyes wander to the chorus girls.
The girls have gone into a tap-dance. The captain of the
chorus looks toward the bandstand, grins and winks at --
JOE, the saxophone player. He winks back. JERRY, who is
thumping the bass-fiddle behind him, leans forward and taps
Joe on the shoulder.
Say, Joe -- tonight's the night,
(eye on tap-dancer)
I mean, we get paid tonight, don't
He takes the mouthpiece out of his saxophone, wets the reed.
Because I lost a filling in my back
tooth. I gotta go to the dentist
Dentist? We been out of work for
four months -- and you want to blow
your first week's pay on your teeth?
It's just a little inlay -- it doesn't
even have to be gold --
How can you be so selfish? We owe
back rent -- we're in for eighty-
nine bucks to Moe's Delicatessen --
we're being sued by three Chinese
lawyers because our check bounced at
the laundry -- we've borrowed money
from every girl in the line --
You're right, Joe.
Of course I am.
First thing tomorrow we're going to
pay everybody a little something on
No, we're not.
First thing tomorrow we're going out
to the dog track and put the whole
bundle on Greased Lightning.
You're going to bet my money on a
He's a shoo-in. I got the word from
Max the waiter -- his brother-in-law
is the electrician who wires the
What are you giving me with the
(pulling form sheet
out of pocket)
Look at those odds -- ten to one. If
he wins, we can pay everybody.
But suppose he loses?
What are you worried about? This job
is going to last a long time.
But suppose it doesn't?
Jerry-boy -- why do you have to paint
everything so black? Suppose you get
hit by a truck? Suppose the stock
Jerry, slapping the bass, is no longer listening. His eyes
have strayed to --
Mulligan, sitting at his table, puffing on the cigar. It
isn't drawing too well. Mulligan reaches under his coat,
unpins his Department of Justice badge from his vest. Using
the pin of the shining badge, he pokes a hole in the wet end
of the cigar.
Jerry has stopped playing, and is watching Mulligan's
operation with morbid fascination. Joe, completely unaware,
Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas
(paying no attention)
Suppose Lake Michigan overflows?
Don't look now -- but the whole town
is under water!
He nods toward Mulligan. Joe looks off. Then, without a word,
they both start packing their instruments.
Mulligan pins the badge back on, checks his wrist-watch.
...four, three, two, one...
He glances toward --
the door from the funeral parlor. Right on the dot, a pair
of police axes smash through the door.
Instant pandemonium breaks loose in the speakeasy. MUSIC
stops, women scream, customers, chorus girls and waiter
scramble toward the side doors. But they too are splintering
under the assault of the police axes. The crowd falls back,
milling around frantically.
Mulligan stands up, cups his hands to his mouth, and roars
at the top of his voice.
All right, everybody -- this is a
raid. I'm a federal agent, and you're
all under arrest.
Policemen come streaming through the splintered doors.
Carried in on the tide is the Drunk who was just tossed out,
reeling unsteadily, and waving his empty coffee cup aloft.
I want another cup of coffee.
The policemen start rounding up the customers and employees,
are herding them toward the exits.
On the bandstand, Joe and Jerry have packed their instruments,
and start to fight their way through the melee, toward some
stairs leading up.
Mulligan, a couple of policemen in tow, comes up to Spats
and his henchmen, sitting calmly at their table, with five
glasses of white liquid in front of them.
Okay, Spats -- the services are over.
A little country club we run for
retired bootleggers. I'm gonna put
your name up for membership.
I never join nothin'.
You'll like it there. I'll have the
prison tailor fit you with a pair of
special spats -- striped!
(to his companions,
Who's the rap this time?
Embalming people with coffee -- eighty-
Me? I'm just a customer here.
Come on, Spats -- we know you own
this joint. Mozarella is just fronting
Mozarella? Never heard of him.
We got different information.
From who? Toothpick Charlie, maybe?
Toothpick Charlie? Never heard of
He picks up Spats' glass, sniffs it suspiciously.
All right -- on your feet.
(getting up slowly)
You're wasting the taxpayers' money.
If you want to, you can call your
(pointing to his four
These are my lawyers -- all Harvard
Mulligan and the two policemen lead Spats and his Harvard
Policemen, under the supervision of the captain, are herding
customers into a paddy-wagon. Fighting his way out of the
wagon is our Drunk, waving his coffee cup in the air.
I want another cup of coffee.
He staggers into the alley, toward the side entrance of the
speakeasy, CAMERA MOVING with him. Through the smashed-up
side door, policemen are ushering more customers, waiters,
musicians and the dancing girls.
CAMERA MOVES UP TOWARD a fire escape on the second floor.
Joe and Jerry, carrying their instruments and overcoats,
have just climbed through a window onto the fire escape, and
are inspecting the scene below. The shot-up hearse is parked
directly beneath them. Stealthily they climb down the ladder,
drop to the roof of the hearse. Then they scramble over the
radiator, steal down the alley away from the street. They
stop in the shadows to put on their coats.
Well, that solves one problem. We
don't have to worry about who to pay
Quiet -- I'm thinking.
Of course, the landlady is going to
lock us out. Moe said no more
knackwurst on credit -- and we can't
borrow any more from the girls,
because they're on their way to jail --
Shut up, will you? I wonder how much
Sam the Bookie will give up for our
Sam the Bookie? Nothing doing! You're
not putting my overcoat on that dog!
I told you -- it's a sure thing.
But we'll freeze -- it's below zero --
we'll catch pneumonia.
Look, stupid, he's ten to one.
Tomorrow, we'll have twenty overcoats!
EXT. CHICAGO STREET - DAY
The street is covered with snow. Joe and Jerry, without
overcoats, the collars of their tuxedos turned up against
the bitter cold, come down the steps of the elevated, carrying
their instruments. The only thing that keeps Jerry from
freezing is that he is boiling over inside. As they proceed
along the sidewalk, Jerry finally can't hold it any more.
Greased Lightning! Why do I listen
to you? I ought to have my head
I thought you weren't talking to me.
Look at the bull fiddle -- it's
dressed warmer than I am.
They come up to a building in front of which are gathered
several small groups of shivering musicians, also equipped
with instruments. Joe and Jerry exchange frozen waves with
their colleagues, start through the entrance.
INT. CORRIDOR OF MUSIC BUILDING - DAY
Joe moves down the corridor, Jerry tagging along grimly beside
him. Other job-seeking musicians mill around, and a melange
of musical sounds and singing voices issues from the various
offices, studios and rehearsal halls.
Joe and Jerry come up to a door marked: KEYNOTE MUSICAL AGENCY --
BANDS, SOLOISTS, SINGERS. Joe opens the door, revealing a
crummy office, with a secretary behind a desk.
Joe shuts the door, and they shuffle along to the next agency,
which is marked: JULES STEIN -- MUSIC CORPORATION OF AMERICA.
Joe opens the door. This is like the other office -- except
a little crummier. There is a secretary behind the desk.
He opens the door to the next agency. On the door it says:
SIG POLIAKOFF -- BANDS FOR ALL OCCASIONS. There is the usual
secretary behind the usual desk, and her name is NELLIE. She
is a brunette, somewhat past her prime, but still attractive.
Oh, it's you! You got a lot of nerve --
He shuts the door quickly, starts to move on.
Joe -- come back here!
Joe stops in his tracks. With a resigned shrug to Jerry, he
opens the door again, and the two of them start in.
Beside Nellie, there is another secretary pecking away at a
typewriter. Nellie's face is grim as Joe and Jerry come up.
Now look, Nellie -- if it's about
last Saturday night -- I can explain
(to Jerry; pointing
What a heel! I spend four dollars to
get my hair marcelled, I buy me a
new negligee, I bake him a great big
-- and where were you?
Yeah -- where were you?
Don't you remember?
He has this bad tooth -- it got
impacted -- the whole jaw swole up --
(Joe throws him a
Boy, did it ever!
So I had to rush him to the hospital
and give him a transfusion...
Right. We have the same blood type...
-- Type O.
Nellie baby, I'll make it up to you.
You're making it up pretty good so
The minute we get a job, I'm going
to take you out to the swellest
How about it, Nellie? Has Poliakoff
got anything for us? We're desperate.
Well, it just so happens he is looking
for a bass and a sax --
(to the other secretary)
(she winks at her)
Did you hear that, Joe?
What's the job?
It's three weeks in Florida --
The Seminole-Ritz, in Miami.
Transportation and all expenses
Isn't she a bit of terrific?
(busses Nellie on the
cheek; to Jerry)
Come on -- let's talk to Poliakoff.
They start toward the door of the inner office.
You better wait a minute, boys --
he's got some people in there with
That stops them.
The room is small and cluttered, and the walls are covered
with photographs of Poliakoff's clients -- bands, vocalists,
trios, radio personalities.
Sitting behind the desk, speaking urgently into the phone,
is SIG POLIAKOFF, a gruff, likable man in his fifties. Pacing
up and down on the other side of the desk is SWEET SUE,
flashily-dressed broad, who has seen thirty summers and a
few hard winters. As she paces, she nervously flips a large
white pill from one hand to the other. Slouched in a chair
is BIENSTOCK, a somewhat prissy man of forty wearing thick
glasses. He has a card file on his lap, is thumbing through
Look, Gladys, it's three weeks in
Florida -- Sweet Sue and Her Society
Syncopators -- they need a couple of
girls on sax and bass -- what do you
mean, who is this? Sig Poliakoff. I
got a job for you -- Gladys, are you
Meshugeh! Played for a hundred and
twelve hours at a marathon dance,
and now she's in bed with a nervous
Tell her to move over.
She has poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher on
the desk, and now she plops the pill into her mouth, washes
(looking up from file)
What about Cora Jackson?
The last I heard, she was playing
with the Salvation Army, yet.
(consulting list on
desk; into phone)
Sue has wandered over to one of the framed photos on the
wall. It shows Sue posed in front of her band -- sixteen
girls, all blonde, all in identical gowns. On the drum it
says SWEET SUE AND HER SOCIETY SYNCOPATORS.
Those idiot broads! Here we are all
packed to go to Miami, and what
happens? The saxophone runs off with
a Bible salesman, and the bass fiddle
gets herself pregnant.
(turning to Bienstock)
I ought to fire you, Bienstock.
Me? I'm the manager of the band --
not the night watchman.
Hello? Let me talk to Bessie Malone --
what's she doing in Philadelphia? --
on the level?
Bessie let her hair grow and is
playing with Stokowski.
Black Bottom Bessie?
Schpielt zich mit der Philharmonic.
How about Rosemary Schultz?
Did you hear? She slashed her wrists
when Valentino died!
We might as well all slash our wrists
if we don't round up two dames by
She picks up her handbag. Bienstock rises, takes his glasses
off, puts them in his pocket.
Look, Sig, you know the kind of girls
we need. We don't care where you
find them -- just get them on that
train by eight o'clock.
Be nonchalant. Trust Poliakoff. The
moment anything turns up, I'll give
you a little tingle.
(feels her tummy)
I wonder if I have room for another
Bienstock opens the door, and follows Sue into the outer
office. Joe and Jerry, who have been biding their time
outside, slip in and shut the door after them.
Hey, Sig -- can we talk to you?
Nellie, get me long distance.
(to the boys)
What is it?
It's about the Florida job.
The Florida job?
Nellie told us about it.
We're not too late, are we?
What are you -- a couple of comedians?
Get out of here!
Long distance? Get me the William
Morris Agency in New York.
You need a bass and a sax, don't
The instruments are right, but you
I want to speak to Mr. Morris.
What's wrong with us?
You're the wrong shape. Goodbye.
The wrong shape? You looking for
hunchbacks or something?
It's not the backs that worry me.
What kind of band is this, anyway?
You got to be under twenty-five --
We could pass for that.
you got to be blonde --
We could dye our hair.
-- and you got to be girls.
We could --
No, we couldn't!
You mean it's a girls' band?
Yeah, that's what he means. Good old
(starting toward door)
I ought to wring her neck!
Yes, I'm holding on.
Wait a minute, Joe. Lets talk this
Why couldn't we do it? Last year,
when we played in that gypsy tea
room, we wore gold earrings. And you
remember when you booked us with
that Hawaiian band?
What's with him -- he drinks?
No. And he ain't been eating so good,
either. He's got an empty stomach
and it's gone to his head.
But, Joe -- three weeks in Florida!
We could borrow some clothes from
the girls in the chorus --
You've flipped your wig!
Now you're talking! We pick up a
couple of second-hand wigs -- a little
padding here and there -- call
ourselves Josephine and Geraldine --
Josephine and Geraldine!
He drags Jerry toward the door.
Look, if you boys want to pick up a
little money tonight --
(they stop and turn)
At the University of Illinois they
are having -- you should excuse the
expression -- a St. Valentine's dance.
We'll take it!
You got it. It's six dollars a man.
Be on the campus in Urbana at eight
All the way to Urbana -- for a one
It's twelve bucks. We can get one of
the overcoats out of hock.
Hello, Mr. Morris? This is Poliakoff,
in Chicago. Say, you wouldn't have a
couple of girl musicians available?
A sax player and a base?
(at the door)
Look, if William Morris doesn't come
Come on, Geraldine!
He pulls him into the outer office.
Joe leads Jerry out.
It's a hundred miles, Joe -- it's
snowing -- how are we going to get
I'll think of something. Don't crowd
How did it go, girls?
We ought to wring your neck.
Please, Jerry -- that's no way to
(turning on the charm)
Nellie baby -- what are you doing
Because I got some plans --
I'm not doing anything. I just thought
I'd go home and have some cold pizza --
And you'll be in all evening?
(melted by now)
Good! Then you won't be needing your
My car? Why, you --
Joe silences her protest with a kiss. Jerry shakes his head
with mock admiration.
Isn't he a bit of terrific?
EXT. CLARK STREET - DAY
Joe and Jerry, carrying their instruments, are coming along
the snow-covered sidewalk toward a garage entrance, above
which is a sign reading: CHARLIE'S GARAGE. Their shoulders
are hunched up against the cold.
We could've had three weeks in Florida --
all expenses paid. Lying around in
the sun -- palm trees -- frying
Knock it off, will you?
They step over the chain blocking the entrance, start into
There are rows of parked cars, a lube rack and a gas pump.
Against the wall under a naked electric light bulb hanging
from a cord, five men are playing stud poker.
A couple of mechanics, in grease-stained coveralls, are
watching the game. The dealer is Toothpick Charlie, the
inevitable toothpick in his mouth.
King high -- pair of bullets --
possible straight -- possible nothing --
pair of eights --
Joe and Jerry come in from the street. One of the mechanics
notices them, nudges Toothpick Charlie. Charlie looks up,
and seeing the instrument cases, leaps to his feet, drawing
a gun from his shoulder holster. The other four players also
jump up, and pulling their guns, level them at Joe and Jerry.
All right, you two -- drop 'em.
We came to pick up a car.
He nods to one of the mechanics, who steps up to Joe and
Jerry, starts to open the instrument cases.
Nellie Weinmeyer's car.
(as the bass and sax
He mops his brow with the back of his sleeve, and putting
his gun back in the holster, picks up the deck of cards again.
Let's go. Pair of aces bets.
The other players resume their seats. Joe and Jerry follow
the mechanic toward the parked cars.
It's a '25 Hupmobile coupe. Green.
The mechanic leads them up to the car, which is parked near
the gas pump.
Need some gas?
(takes some coins out
Like about forty cents' worth.
The mechanic unscrews the cap of the gas tank, inserts the
rubber hose from the pump.
Put it on Miss Weinmeyer's bill?
(signals Jerry to put
And while you're at it -- fill 'er
From the street outside comes the loud squeal of tires. Jerry
glances off casually toward the entrance.
A black Dusenberg bursts the chain hanging across the street
entrance, skids into the garage, takes to a screeching stop
some ten feet from the card players. Toothpick Charlie and
his cronies leap up and reach for their guns.
Too late. Four men have scrambled out of the car, two armed
with submachine guns, the other two with sawed-off shotguns.
We recognize them as Spats Colombo's henchmen.
All right, everybody hands up and
face the wall.
The frightened poker players start to obey.
Jerry is watching the scene, open-mouthed. Joe grabs his
shoulder, pulls him down behind the Hupmobile.
The Second Henchman notices the mechanic standing petrified
beside the gas pump.
(waving machine gun)
Hey -- join us!
The mechanic raises his hands, moves reluctantly toward the
six men lined up against the wall.
A pair of men's feet step down from the limousine. They are
encased in immaculate spats.
Jerry, crouching behind the Hupmobile with Joe, grabs his
It's Spats Colombo --
Joe clamps his hand over Jerry's mouth.
Spats Colombo joins his armed henchmen, who are covering the
seven men facing the wall with their hands up.
Hello, Charlie. Long time no see.
(glancing over his
What is it, Spats? What do you want
Just dropped in to pay my respects.
You don't owe me no nothing.
Oh, I wouldn't say that. You were
nice enough to recommend my mortuary
to some of your friends...
He has strolled over to the table, and picking up the deck
of cards, starts to deal out another round to the abandoned
I don't know what you're talking
So now I got all those coffins on my
hands -- and I hate to see them go
Honest, Spats. I had nothing to do
Spats deals Toothpick Charlie's fifth card, then turns up
the hole card.
Too bad, Charlie. You would have had
(flips cards away)
(knowing what's coming)
No, Spats -- no, no, no --
Spats nods, and the two machine-gunners raise their weapons,
start to fire methodically at their off-scene victims.
Behind the Hupmobile, Jerry screws his eyes shut painfully
as the steady chatter of bullets continues.
I think I'm going to be sick.
The machine guns stop firing. There is a moment's silence.
Suddenly, the bas tank of the Hupmobile overflows, and the
rubber hose from the pump whips out, gushing gasoline over
Spats and his henchmen, hearing the SOUND, whirl around and
catch sight of Joe and Jerry squatting behind the car.
All right -- come on out of there.
Joe and Jerry emerge quakingly from behind the Hupmobile.
They try to raise their hands, but find this rather difficult
to manage while holding on to their instruments. Jerry darts
a horrified glance toward the foot of the wall.
We didn't see anything --
-- did we?
No -- nothing. Besides, it's none of
our business if you guys want to
knock each other off --
Joe nudges him violently with his elbow, and he breaks off.
Don't I know you two from somewhere?
We're just a couple of musicians --
we come to pick up a car -- Nellie
Weinmeyer's car -- there's a dance
(starting to edge
Come on, Jerry.
Wait a minute. Where do you think
To Urbana. It's a hundred miles.
You ain't going nowhere.
The only way you'll get to Urbana is
During this, one of the bodies huddled grotesquely against
the foot of the wall begins to stir. It is Toothpick Charlie.
He is covered with blood, but there is still a spark of life
in him, and his toothpick is still clutched between his teeth.
Painfully, he starts to worm his way across the floor toward
a phone on a wooden shelf.
Spats and his gang, facing Joe and Jerry, are not aware of
I don't like no witnesses.
We won't breathe a word.
You won't breathe nothing' -- not
He motions lazily to the Second Henchman. The henchman slowly
levels his machine gun at Joe and Jerry, who stand frozen.
At that very moment, Toothpick Charlie reaches up for the
phone. But he is too weak to hold on, and the receiver drops
from his limp hand, and clatters to the asphalt floor.
Instantly, Spats and his henchman wheel around. Spats grabs
the machine gun from the Second Henchman, and perforates
what is left of Charlie with a hail of lead.
Toothpick Charlie crumbles in a heap. He is quite dead.
Spats' be-spatted foot comes into SHOT, disdainfully kicks
the toothpick out of Charlie's mouth.
Joe and Jerry have taken advantage of this momentary
diversion. Like scalded jackasses, they are sprinting toward
the entrance, hanging on to their instruments.
Spats and his boys pivot, see the two running. They let go
with a salvo of shots, just as Joe and Jerry scoot through
the garage door and disappear down the street.
A couple of henchmen start after them. There is the SOUND of
an approaching police SIREN.
Come on -- let's blow. We'll take
care of those guys later.
They all pile into the black Dussenberg. The driver shifts
into reverse and the car shoots backwards out of the garage.
Joe and Jerry come skidding around the corner from Clark
Street, race down the snow-covered alley. In b.g. there is
the SOUND of squealing tires and police sirens.
(as they run)
I think they got me.
They got the bull-fiddle.
(feeling himself all
You don't see any blood?
Not yet. But if those guys catch us,
there'll be blood all over. Type O.
They start running even faster.
Where are we running, Joe?
As far away as possible.
That's not far enough. You don't
know those guys! But they know us.
Every hood in Chicago will be looking
for us --
They reach the end of the alley. A couple of motorcycle
policemen, their sirens wailing, flash by in the direction
of the garage. The word must have spread, because pedestrians
are also running in the same direction. Joe stops, looks
around quickly, and seeing a cigar store on the corner drags
INT. CIGAR STORE - DAY
Joe hurries to a wall telephone near the entrance. Jerry
Got a nickel?
He sets the saxophone case down, and taking a coin from Jerry,
inserts it in the slot.
You going to call the police?
The police? We'd never live to
testify. Not against Spats Colombo.
We got to get out of town. Maybe we
ought to grow beards.
We are going out of town. But we're
going to shave.
Shave? At a time like this? Those
guys got machine guns -- they're
going to blast our heads off -- and
you want to shave?
Shave our legs, stupid.
Stupid is right. Jerry still doesn't get it.
(into phone; his voice
a tremulous soprano)
Hello? Mr. Poliakoff? I understand
you're looking for a couple of girl
Now Jerry gets it.
Two pairs of high-heeled shoes, unusually large in size, are
hurrying along the platform. CAMERA FOLLOWS them and PANS UP
gradually, revealing rather hefty legs in rolled stockings,
short dresses, coats with cheap fur pieces, and rakish cloche
hats. One of the pair carries a saxophone case, the other a
bull-fiddle case, and each has a Gladstone bag.
A train, with steam up, is loading for departure. Redcaps,
passengers, baggage carts.
Florida Limited leaving on Track
Seven for Washington, Charleston,
Savannah, Jacksonville and Miami.
All aboard. All aboard.
Our two passenger accelerate their pace. But evidently they
are not too adept at navigating in high heels. Suddenly the
one with the bull-fiddle twists her ankle -- or we should
say his ankle -- because it's Jerry. He stops and faces his
girlfriend -- Joe.
(rubbing his ankle)
How can they walk on these things?
How do they keep their balance?
Must be the way their weight is
distributed. Come on.
As they proceed along the platform, a gust of wind sends
their skirts billowing. Jerry stops again and pulls his skirt
And it's so drafty. They must be
catching colds all the time.
(urging him on)
Quit stalling. We'll miss the train.
I feel so naked. Like everybody's
looking at me.
With those legs? Are you crazy?
They are now approaching the Pullman car reserved for the
girls' orchestra. Girl musicians, with instruments and
luggage, are boarding the car, supervised by Sweet Sue and
(stopping in his tracks)
It's no use. We'll never get away
with it, Joe.
The name is Josephine. And it was
your idea in the first place.
Just then, a member of the girls' band comes hurrying past
them, carrying a valise and ukulele case. Her name is SUGAR.
What can we say about Sugar, except that she is the dream
girl of every red-blooded American male who ever read College
Humor? As she undulates past them, Jerry looks after her
Who are we kidding? Look at that --
look how she moves -- it's like jello
on springs -- they must have some
sort of a built-in motor. I tell you
it's a whole different sex.
What are you afraid of? Nobody's
asking you to have a baby. This is
just to get out of town.
The minute we hit Florida, we'll blow this set-up.
This time I'm not going to let you
talk me into something that...
A newsboy approaches along the platform, peddling his papers.
Extra! Extra! Seven Slaughtered in
North Side Garage! Fear Blood
(to Joe, promptly)
You talked me into it! Come on,
They hurry toward the Pullman car, imitating the jello-on-
springs movement as well as they can.
At the Pullman car, Sue and Bienstock are checking in the
girl musicians as they are boarding.
Hi, Mary Lou -- Rosella -- Okay,
Dolores, get a move on -- How's your
Clarinet -- drums -- trumpet --
Joe and Jerry come mincing up. (NOTE: From here on in, the
two will speak with girls' voices whenever the situation
calls for it.)
Well, here we are.
You two from the Poliakoff Agency?
Yes, we're the new girls.
This is our manager, Mr. Bienstock.
I'm Sweet Sue.
My name is Josephine.
And I'm Daphne.
This is completely out of left field. Joe throws him a sharp
look. Jerry smiles back brightly.
Saxophone, bass -- Am I glad to see
you girls. You saved our lives.
Likewise, I'm sure.
Where did you girls play before?
Oh -- here and there -- and around.
We spent three years at the Sheboygan
Conservatory of Music.
From OFF comes the voice of the Conductor: "All aboard!"
You're in Berths 7 and 7A.
(his idea of a lady)
Thank you ever so.
It's entirely mutual.
Joe has already boarded the car. As Jerry starts up the steps,
he stumbles. Bienstock helps him up, with a little pat on
Joe jerks him up into the vestibule before this nonsense
gets out of hand.
(takes off glasses,
puts them in pocket)
Looks like Poliakoff came through
with a couple of real ladies.
You better tell the other girls to
watch their language.
She and Bienstock mount the steps of the Pullman. The porter
picks up the yellow footstep, hops aboard as the train starts
As Joe and Jerry come in from the vestibule, Joe grabs Jerry,
holds him against the baggage rack.
(an angry whisper)
I never did like the name Geraldine.
As Sue and Bienstock appear from the vestibule, Joe lets go
of Jerry, and they move down the aisle into the Pullman car
The girl musicians are all there, except for Sugar. They are
removing their coats, settling themselves in their seats,
putting away their instruments and baggage. They are all
blonde, they are young, and most of them are pretty. They
look like a band of angels -- but don't you believe it.
(the good neighbor)
Hello, everybody. I'm the bass fiddle.
Just call me Daphne.
I'm Josephine. Sax.
There is a slew of general hellos.
Welcome to No Man's Land.
You'll be sor-ry!
Take your corsets off and spread
Oh, I never wear one.
Don't you bulge?
Oh, no. I have the most divine little
seamstress that comes in once a month --
and my dear, she's so inexpensive --
Come on, Daphne.
Say, kids, have you heard the one
about the girl tuba player that was
stranded on a desert island with a
No -- how does it go?
Now cut that out, girls -- none of
that rough talk.
(as Joe and Jerry
They went to a conservatory.
There is a general horse-laugh from the girls. Joe and Jerry
have now reached their seats, and are taking off their coats.
(in a delighted whisper)
How about that talent? This is like
falling into a tub of butter.
Watch it, Daphne!
When I was a kid, I used to have a
dream -- I was locked up in this
pastry shop overnight -- with all
kinds of goodies around -- jelly
rolls and mocha eclairs and sponge
cake and Boston cream pie and cherry
Listen, stupe -- no butter and no
pastry. We're on a diet!
Jerry starts to hang his coat across a cord running above
Not there -- that's the emergency
Now you've done it!
Tore off one of my chests.
You'd better go fix it.
You better come help me.
Jerry leads the way toward the rest rooms, which are just
beyond their seat. Instinctively he heads for the one marked
MEN. Joe grabs him, steers him back toward the one marked
This way, Daphne.
(clasping his chest
Now you tore the other one.
Joe opens the curtain, propels him inside.
There is another customer there -- Sugar. She has one leg up
on the leather settee, her skirt is slightly raised, and she
is about to remove a small silver flask tucked under her
garter. As Jerry and Joe come in, she guiltily pulls her
(arms folded across
That's all right. I was afraid it
was Sweet Sue. You won't tell anybody,
(taking the flask out
and unscrewing the
If they catch me once more, they'll
boot me out of the band.
(pours a drink into a
You the replacement for the bass and
That's us. I'm Daphne -- and this is
I'm Sugar Cane. I changed it. It
used to be Sugar Kowalczyk.
Yes. I come from a very musical
family. My mother is a piano teacher
and my father was a conductor.
Where did he conduct?
On the Baltimore and Ohio.
I play the ukulele. And I sing too.
She sings, too.
I don't really have much of a voice --
but then it's not much of a band,
either. I'm only with 'em because
I'm running away.
Running away? From what?
Don't get me started on that.
Want a drink? It's bourbon.
As Jerry reaches for it, his bosom starts to slip again, and
he quickly refolds his arms.
We'll take a rain check.
(downs cupful of
I don't want you to think that I'm a
drinker. I can stop any time I want
to -- only I don't want to. Especially
when I'm blue.
All the girls drink -- but I'm the
one that gets caught. That's the
story of my life. I always get the
fuzzy end of the lollipop.
She has screwed the cap back on the flask, and now slips it
under her garter.
Are my seams straight?
(examining her legs)
See you around, girls.
She waves and exits into the Pullman car.
We been playing with the wrong bands.
How about the shape of that liquor
Joe spins him around, and unbuttoning the back of his dress,
starts to fix the slipped brassiere.
Forget it. One false move, and they'll
toss us off the train -- there'll be
the police, and the papers, and the
mob in Chicago...
Boy, would I like to borrow a cup of
(whirling him around,
grabbing the front
of his dress)
Look -- no butter, no pastry, and no
(looking down at his
You tore it again!
EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT
The wheels are pounding along the track, accompanied by a
spirited rendition of RUNNING WILD.
At one end of the car, Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators
are beating out RUNNING WILD. It is a special rehearsal to
break in the two new girls, Josephine and Daphne. The other
girls, including Sugar on the ukulele, are really swinging.
But Joe and Jerry are playing in a dainty ultra-refined
manner, so as not to give themselves away.
Sue, who is conducting from the aisle, raps her baton against
a seat. The girls stop playing.
(to Joe and Jerry)
Hey, Sheboygan -- you two -- what
was your last job -- playing square
No -- funerals.
Would you mind rejoining the living?
Goose it up a little.
Sue is about to give the downbeat, when her eyes fall on
Jerry's bass fiddle. There is a neat row of bullet holes
across the face of the instrument.
How did those holes get there?
Oh -- those. I don't know.
We got it second-hand.
All right -- lets take it from the
top. And put a little heat under it,
She brings the baton down, and the girls start playing again.
This time Joe and Jerry give it both knees -- Joe going for
a wild ride on the sax, and Jerry slapping and twirling the
bass like a girl possessed. Sue cocks her eyebrows, amazed
by the hepness of the two conservatory cats.
Now it is time for Sugar's solo. She steps forward with the
ukulele, and starts to sing a hot chorus of RUNNING WILD.
Holding on to the bull-fiddle, Jerry leans forward to get a
better view of Sugar's backfield in motion.
As Sugar shimmies through the number, the hidden flask slips
out from under her garter, and falls to the floor with a
clank. She freezes. Sue raps her baton furiously against the
seat, stopping the music.
Bienstock, with his glasses on, is sitting father back in
the car reading Variety. He leaps up.
Yes, Sue? What is it?
(pointing at flask)
I thought I made it clear I don't
want any drinking in this outfit.
(picking up flask)
All right, girls. Who does this belong
Come on, now. Speak up.
(still no answer; his
eyes fall on Sugar,
who stands there
Sugar, I warned you!
Please, Mr. Bienstock --
This is the last straw. In Kansas
City you were smuggling liquor in a
shampoo bottle. Before that I caught
you with a pint in your ukulele --
Jerry has squeezed himself between the girls, and steps
Pardon me, Mr. Bienstock -- can I
have my flask back?
(hands it to him,
turns back to Sugar)
Pack your things, and the next station
we come to --
(he does a take, turns
Uh-huh. Just a little bourbon.
He starts to slip it down the neck of his dress.
Give me that!
He grabs the flask. Sugar is looking at Jerry gratefully.
Joe glares at Jerry, ready to hit him with the saxophone.
(to Joe and Jerry;
Didn't you girls say you went to a
Yes. For a whole year.
I thought you said three years.
We got time off for good behavior.
There are two things I will not put
up with during working hours. One is
liquor -- and the other one is men.
(a blinking angel)
Oh, you don't have to worry about
We would be caught dead with men.
Those rough, hairy beasts with eight
(looking at Bienstock)
They all want just one thing from a
(drawing himself up)
I beg your pardon.
All right, girls -- from the top
Once more the Society Syncopators wade into RUNNING WILD.
Sugar, strumming the ukulele, smiles warmly at Daphne, a
true blue pal; Daphne smiles back, his mouth watering a
little, like a kid in a pastry shop.
EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT
The wheels are still pounding away -- but there's no more
The berths are made up, and the girls are getting ready for
bed. Joe, in pajamas, is standing in the aisle beside Lower
7, draping his dress neatly on a hanger. Jerry, in a
nightgown, is lying in Upper 7 with the curtains open,
watching the broads go by. Girls in negligees, in pajamas,
in nightgowns, are scurrying with their wash-kits in and out
of the ladies' room, climbing into lowers and uppers.
(the young sultan)
Good night, Mary Lou -- Dolores dear,
sleep tight -- Nighty-night, Emily.
(climbing into an
How about that toodle-oo?
Steady, boy. Just keep telling
yourself you're a girl.
I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm a girl --
Rosella and Olga come bouncing past from the ladies' room.
Get a load of that rhythm section.
(a glare from Joe)
I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm a girl.
His eyes stray down the aisle. In Upper 2, Sugar is getting
ready for bed. All Jerry can see is her legs dangling out of
the berth, as she removes her stockings. But that's all the
identification Jerry needs.
(calling down the
Good night, Sugar.
(sticking her head
Good night, honey.
(to Joe; enraptured)
Honey -- she called me honey.
Without a word, Joe takes the ladder leaning against Jerry's
berth, slides it under the lower.
What are you doing?
I just want to make sure that honey
stays in the hive. There'll be no
buzzing around tonight.
But suppose I got to go -- like for
a drink of water?
But suppose I lose? Suppose it's an
(points to cord running
across the back of
Then pull the emergency brake!
Sitting on the edge of Lower 1, ready for bed, is Sue. She
is looking off intently toward Joe and Jerry, flipping a
stomach pill in one hand and holding a paper cup of water in
the other. She turns to Bienstock, who is across the aisle
in Lower 2, just buttoning his pajama tops.
You know, Bienstock, there's something
funny about those two new girls.
Funny? In what way?
I don't know -- but I can feel it
That's one good thing about ulcers --
it's like a burglar alarm going off
She swallows the pill, washes it down with water.
All right, Sue. You watch your ulcers --
I'll watch those two.
(rises, claps his
Okay. Everybody settle down and go
to bed. Good night, girls.
The last few girls climb into their births, lights are being
extinguished, curtains are being closed.
Joe, standing outside Berth 7, starts to close the curtains
of Jerry's berth.
Good night, Daphne.
Good night, Josephine.
Joe closes the curtains. Jerry, in the upper, extinguishes
the light. He settles himself back on the pillow, closes his
(muttering to himself)
I'm a girl -- I'm a girl -- I wish I
were dead -- I'm a girl -- I'm a
EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT
The wheels are pounding along the track in the rhythm of
Jerry's 'I'm a girl, I'm a girl.'
There are just a few dim lights illuminating the aisle.
Everybody seems to be asleep, all is quiet -- except for
Bienstock's steady snoring in Lower 2.
After a moment, the curtains of Upper 2 open, and Sugar peeks
out cautiously. She is wearing a negligee over her nightie.
Seeing that all is clear, she slips quietly down the ladder,
and tiptoes down the aisle.
She arrives at Berth 7, and finding no ladder there, takes
one from across the aisle, leans it against Jerry's berth,
and climbs up.
Jerry is asleep in Upper 7, as the curtains part and Sugar
She taps his shoulder. Jerry sits bolt upright, hits his
head against the top of the berth.
Oh -- Sugar!
I wanted to thank you for covering
for me. You're a real pal.
It's nothing. I just think us girls
should stick together.
If it hadn't been for you, they would
have kicked me off the train. I'd be
out there in the middle of nowhere,
sitting on my ukulele.
It must be freezing outside. When I
think of you -- and your poor ukulele --
If there's anything I can do for you --
Oh, I can think of a million things --
Sugar, looking off, sees something in the aisle, quickly
climbs into the berth beside Jerry.
And that's one of them.
(finger to her lips)
Sssh. Sweet Sue.
She peers through the slit in the curtains.
Sue, in a wrapper, is padding sleepily down the aisle toward
the ladies' room.
Back in Upper 7, Sugar turns conspiratorially to Jerry.
I don't want her to know we're in
We won't tell anybody -- not even
I'd better stay here till she goes
back to sleep.
Stay as long as you'd like.
(putting her legs
under the covers)
I'm not crowding you, am I?
No. It's nice and cozy.
When I was a little girl, on cold
nights like this, I used to crawl
into bed with my sister. We'd cuddle
up under the covers, and pretend we
were lost in a dark cave, and were
trying to find out way out.
(mopping his brow)
(putting a hand on
Why you poor thing -- you're trembling
And your head is hot.
(her feet touching
his under the cover)
And you've got cold feet.
(a wan smile)
Isn't that ridiculous?
Let me warm them a little.
(rubbing her feet
There -- isn't that better?
Jerry has turned his head away, and is now mumbling to
I'm a girl, I'm a girl, I'm a girl --
What did you say?
I'm a very sick girl.
Maybe I'd better go before I catch
(holding her by the
I'm not that sick.
I have a very low resistance.
Look, Sugar, if you feel you're coming
down with something, the best thing
is a shot of whiskey.
You got some?
I know where to get some.
He climbs across her, and opening the curtains, leans all
the way over the edge of the upper berth and down toward the
In Lower 7, Joe is asleep, facing the window. The curtains
part, and Jerry, dangling upside down, reaches toward the
suitcase at the foot of the berth. He raises the lid of the
suitcase, rummages around till he finds a bottle of bourbon.
As he takes it out, Joe stirs. Jerry freezes, raises the
bottle up, ready to conk Joe if he wakes up. Joe turns over,
settles back to sleep, and Jerry swings his body through the
Jerry, the bottle clutched in his hand, is hanging upside
down, while Sugar in the upper berth holds on to his legs.
As Jerry tries to raise himself back up, he slips out of
Sugar's grasp, and sprawls in the aisle. He lies absolutely
still, afraid that Joe may have heard him.
(a solicitous whisper)
You all right?
How's the bottle?
As he hands it up to her, the curtains of Upper 4 part, and
Dolores, who has been awakened by the fall, peeks out.
You better get some cups.
Jerry pads over to the water fountain beside the rest rooms.
He punches out a couple of paper cups from a dispense, flits
back to Berth 7, and scurries up the ladder.
Dolores watches all this with great interest.
Back in Upper 7, Sugar has already opened the bottle.
(handing her the paper
I tell you -- this is the only way
You better put on the lights. I can't
see what I'm doing.
No -- no lights. We don't want anyone
to know we're having a party.
I may spill something.
(shifting into high)
So spill it. Spills, thrills, laughs,
games -- this may even turn out to
be a surprise party.
What's the surprise?
Uh-uh. Not yet.
We better have a drink first.
(handing him cup)
Here. This'll put hair on your chest.
No fair guessing.
They drink. The curtains open and Dolores, standing on the
ladder outside, sticks her head in.
This a private clambake, or can
It's private. Go away.
Say, Dolores -- you still got that
bottle of vermouth?
Who needs vermouth?
We have some bourbon -- lets make
(starts down the ladder)
Manhattans? This time of night?
(calling after Dolores)
And bring the cocktail shaker.
Oh, Sugar. You're going to spoil my
Dolores has crossed the aisle, and getting a foot up on Lower
4, reaches up into her berth for the vermouth. The curtains
of Lower 4 open, and Mary Lou sticks her head out.
Party in Upper 7.
I got some cheese and crackers.
And get a corkscrew.
Mary Lou gets out of her berth, steps across to Lower 3,
wakes up Rosella.
Party in Upper 7. Got a corkscrew?
No. But Stella has.
Get some cups.
Rosella hurries toward the water fountain, while Mary Lou
gets Stella and the corkscrew out of bed. Rapidly, the whole
Pullman car springs into action. As silent as mice, the girls
slip out of their berths, armed with various provisions.
Their nighties billowing they scuttle down the aisle and up
the ladder into Upper 7.
In Upper 7, the party is building rapidly, as the mice pile
in with their contributions.
Here's the vermouth. I brought some
crackers and cheese. Will ten cups
be enough? Can you use a bottle of
Jerry is trying vainly to stem the invasion of gatecrashers.
Please, girls -- this is a private
party -- a party for two -- go away,
no more room -- ssh, the neighbors
downstairs -- you'll wake up Josephine --
please, no crackers in bed -- go
someplace else, form your own party --
be careful with that corkscrew! Sugar --
where are you, Sugar?
Sugar is greeting Olga, who has climbed into the berth
clutching a hot water bottle.
Here's the cocktail shaker.
Sugar starts measuring bourbon and vermouth into it.
Easy on the vermouth. If we only had
some ice -- Pass the peanut butter.
Anybody for salami?
Thirteen girls in a berth -- that's
bad luck! Twelve of you will have to
get out!... Please, girls, no more
food! I'll have ants in the morning!
In Lower 7, Joe is stirring restlessly, while subdued noises
float down from the party upstairs. The curtains part and
Emily sticks her head in and shakes Joe.
Hey -- you got any maraschino cherries
She disappears. Joe starts to close his eyes, then sits up
with a jolt.
Slowly he becomes aware of the sounds of revelry up above.
His eyes wide as he sees a girl's bare leg through the
curtains. The girl steps on the edge of his berth, hoists
herself into the upper. Joe throws open the curtains, sees
several other pairs of girls' legs dangling down from the
upper, and still more legs climbing up the ladder.
Frantically, Joe jumps out of his birth. He is confronted by
a sight which knocks into a cocked hat the principle that
two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time.
In a triumph of engineering, fourteen girls have squeezed
themselves into Upper 7 -- or to be exact, thirteen girls
and Daphne -- not to mention the bourbon, the vermouth, the
Southern Comfort, the paper cups, the corkscrew, the hot
water bottle, the crackers and cheese, and the salami.
There is a seething tangle of arms and legs and blonde heads --
like a snake pit at feeding time.
What's going on here?
(trying to find a
needle in the haystack)
Daphne -- Daphne --
(sticking his head
It's not my fault. I didn't invite
Break it up, girls! Daphne! Come on,
He starts to tug at odd arms and legs.
Jerry pulls himself back into the berth.
All right, girls. You heard Josephine.
Sugar starts to back out of the berth.
Not you, Sugar.
I'm just going to get some ice.
Joe has slipped on his robe as Sugar comes backing out of
the berth and down the ladder.
Out, out! That's right, Sugar. Now
the rest of you.
As Sugar heads for the water fountain, Joe starts to pull
the other girls out.
Aw, don't be a flat tire. Have a
Manhattan. Come on in. There's lots
of room in the back.
Ssh. Pipe down. We'll all be fired.
Jerry sticks his head out, looks after Sugar.
Sugar -- don't you leave me here
Sugar has pried open the panel under the water fountain, and
reaching inside, drags out a huge cake of ice. Not quite
knowing what to do with it, she thrusts it into Joe's hands,
and turns quickly to the pile of instruments stashed between
some empty seats.
(unaware of the cake
of ice in his hands)
Come on, kids. Give up, will you?
The party's over. Everybody go home.
(suddenly notices the
By this time, Sugar has unscrewed a cymbal from the drum,
and is holding the drummer's metal brush.
(beckoning to Joe)
Josephine, over here. Before it melts.
She heads for the women's lounge. Joe looks at her, looks at
the ice, and not knowing what else to do with it, follows
her through the curtains.
Sugar comes in, followed by Josephine with the cake of ice.
(pointing to sunken
Put it here.
(dropping the ice in
Sugar, you're going to get yourself
into a lot of trouble.
Better keep a lookout.
Joe crosses to the curtain, peers out. Sugar, using the handle
of the metal brush, starts to chop ice into the upturned
If Bienstock catches you again --
What's the matter with you, anyway?
I'm not very bright, I guess.
I wouldn't say that. Careless, maybe.
No, just dumb. If I had any brains,
I wouldn't be on this crummy train
with this crummy girls' band.
Then why did you take this job?
I used to sing with male bands. But
I can't afford it any more.
Have you ever been with a male band?
That's what I'm running away from. I
worked with six different ones in
the last two years. Oh, brother!
You can't trust those guys.
I can't trust myself. The moment I'd
start with a new band -- bingo!
You see, I have this thing about
(abandoning his lookout
Especially tenor sax. I don't know
what it is, but they just curdle me.
All they have to do is play eight
bars of "Come to Me My Melancholy
Baby" -- and my spine turns to
custard, and I get goose-pimply all
over -- and I come to them.
(hitting her head)
You know -- I play tenor sax.
But you're a girl, thank goodness.
(his throat drying up)
That's why I joined this band. Safety
first. Anything to get away from
(hacking the ice
You don't know what they're like.
You fall for them and you love 'em --
you think it's going to be the biggest
thing since the Graf Zeppelin -- and
the next thing you know they're
borrowing money from you and spending
it on other dames and betting on the
You don't say?
Then one morning you wake up and the
saxophone is gone and the guy is
gone, and all that's left behind is
a pair of old socks and a tube of
toothpaste, all squeezed out.
So you pull yourself together and
you go on to the next job, and the
next saxophone player, and it's the
same thing all over again. See what
I mean? -- not very bright.
(looking her over)
Brains aren't everything.
I can tell you one thing -- it's not
going to happen to me again. Ever.
I'm tired of getting the fuzzy end
of the lollipop.
Olga bursts in through the curtains.
Ice! What's keeping the ice? The
natives are getting restless.
Joe hands her the cymbal piled with ice.
How about a couple of drinks for us?
She scoots out. Joe and Sugar are alone again.
You know I'm going to be twenty-five
That's a quarter of a century. Makes
a girl think.
About the future. You know -- like a
husband? That's why I'm glad we're
going to Florida.
What's in Florida?
Millionaires. Flocks of them. They
all go south for the winter. Like
Going to catch yourself a rich bird?
Oh, I don't care how rich he is --
as long as he has a yacht and his
own private railroad car and his own
Maybe you'll meet one too, Josephine.
Yeah. With money like Rockefeller,
and shoulders like Johnny Weismuller --
I want mine to wear glasses.
Men who wear glasses are so much
more gentle and sweet and helpless.
Haven't you ever noticed?
Well, now that you've mentioned it --
They get those weak eyes from reading --
you know, all those long columns of
tiny figures in the Wall Street
Olga is back again, carrying two Manhattans in paper cups on
the cymbal. She hands them the drinks, starts to refill the
cymbal with ice.
That bass fiddle -- wow! She sure
knows how to throw a party!
She dashes out. Joe looks after her, worriedly.
(lifting his cup)
I hope this time you wind up with
the sweet end of the lollipop.
They drink. Joe studies her like a cat studying a canary.
Olga is climbing up on the ladder to Upper 7 with the new
supply of ice in the cymbal. The party is now really winging.
Amidst the hushed hilarity, the hot water bottle is being
passed around, paper cups and crackers are flying, some of
the girls are smoking. Despite the absence of Sugar, Jerry
is enjoying himself hugely. Dolores has the floor -- finishing
the joke that Bienstock interrupted earlier.
So the one-legged jockey said --
(she breaks up in
What did he say?
The one-legged jockey said -- 'Don't
worry about me, baby. I ride side-
To Jerry, this is excruciatingly comical. He puts his hand
over his mouth, trying to smother his wild laughter, starts
(Lady Daphne again)
I beg your pardon.
Another hiccup. And another.
Put some ice on her neck!
She takes a hunk of ice out of the cymbal, rubs it against
the back of Jerry's neck. Jerry leaps up with a squeal, and
the ice slides down into his nightgown. He squirms and
wiggles, crying and laughing and hiccuping.
Oooh! Aaah! It's cold! Owwww!
The girls try to fish the ice from inside his nightie, and
suddenly Jerry gets a new shock, worse than the ice. His
hiccups stop, his eyes widen in panic. His bosoms have torn
lose from their moorings again. He folds his arms over his
suddenly flat chest, to ward off exposure.
Cut it out, girls. Stop it. Joe --
Josephine -- help!
Hey, she's ticklish!
With that, all the girls pounce on Jerry, start to tickle
Jerry flops around like a fish, screaming and laughing and
crying. In despair, his eyes fall on the emergency cord. He
makes a grab for the cord, pulls it.
EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT
The pounding wheels suddenly lock, and come to a jolting
INT. PULLMAN CAR - NIGHT
The abrupt stop sends everybody in Upper 7 tumbling out into
INT. WOMEN'S LOUNGE - NIGHT
Sugar, thrown off balance, grabs on to Joe.
I mean -- I'll see.
He sticks his head out through the curtains.
INT. PULLMAN CAR - NIGHT
The girls heaped in the aisle are extricating themselves and
scurrying back as fast as they can into their berths. Jerry
scrambles up the ladder into Upper 7, pulls the curtains,
just as the curtains of Lower 1 are flung open and Sue
emerges. She glances up the aisle, which is now empty and
What's going on around here?
Bienstock staggers sleepily out of Lower 2.
Are we in Florida?
At the entrance to the women's lounge, Sugar has joined Joe
and the two are peering through the curtains. The door of
the car opens, and the Conductor runs in angrily. The two
withdraw back into the lounge.
The Conductor joins Sue and Bienstock.
All right. Who pulled the emergency
brake? Who was it?
(bellowing at the
Come on, girls. Who was it?
Through the curtains of Upper 7, Jerry's head appears timidly.
I was it.
What's the big idea?
I'm sorry. I was having a nightmare.
Something I ate. I'm not at all well.
(holds out cocktail
See? Hot water bottle.
Musicians! The last time we had some
on the train, they started a wild,
drunken brawl -- twelve of them in
Jerry clucks his tongue disapprovingly. The Conductor jerks
the emergency cord a couple of times, signaling the engineer
to start the train again.
EXT. LOCOMOTIVE WHEELS - NIGHT
The stalled wheels start to turn over and pick up speed.
The train is moving. Joe appears from the women's lounge,
signals to Sugar, who is behind him.
Okay, Sugar -- all clear. You better
go back to bed.
I might as well stay in there. I
won't be able to sleep anyway.
Bienstock. He snores to beat the
band. We cut cards to see who sleeps
over him, and I always lose. Wouldn't
Want to switch berths with me?
Would you mind terribly?
Not at all.
He leads her to Lower 7. The curtains of Upper 7 are closed.
I can fall asleep anywhere, any time,
He takes his suitcase out, stashes it under the berth.
Good night, Sugar.
In Upper 7, Jerry is lying on his back with his eyes wide
open, listening intently. From OFF comes --
Good night, Josephine.
Jerry props himself up on one elbow, a smug grin of
anticipation on his face.
Sugar gets into Lower 7, closing the curtains. Joe proceeds
down the aisle, mounts the ladder to Upper 2.
In Upper 2, Joe closes the curtains, settles down to sleep.
In the berth below, Bienstock is snoring away. Unable to
take it, Joe clamps the spare pillow over his head.
In Upper 7, Jerry takes a long swig out of the hot water
bottle to get his courage up. Then he parts the curtains
cautiously, drops to the aisle. He leans toward the closed
curtains of Lower 7.
Joe -- are you asleep, Joe?
In Lower 7, Sugar, her eyes closed, is drifting off to sleep.
Jerry, satisfied that Joe is asleep, pussyfoots down the
aisle to Berth 2. He listens for a second to Bienstock
snoring, climbs up the ladder to Upper 2.
In Upper 2, Joe lies facing the window. The curtains part
gingerly, and Jerry sticks his head in.
(a honeyed whisper)
Sugar -- Sugar baby --
Joe opens his eyes wide, and is about to turn around, but
Jerry puts a restraining hand on his shoulder.
Sssh. Don't move. It's me -- Daphne.
We don't want to wake up Bienstock.
He slips into the berth, and the curtains close behind him.
It's pretty dark now. Jerry stretches out on top of the
covers, addresses the back of Joe's head. Joe, a grim
expression on his face, is waiting to see how far Jerry will
(continuing; the big
You know what I promised you before --
that surprise -- well, I better break
it to you gently. In the first place,
I'm not a natural blonde -- as a
matter of fact, there are all sorts
of things about me that are not
natural -- you see, my friend and I --
the reason we're on the train with
you girls -- well, you know those
holes in the bull-fiddle -- that
wasn't mice -- what I'm trying to
say is -- my name isn't really Daphne --
it's Geraldine -- I mean, Jerry --
and you know why it's Jerry? --
because I'm a boy!
He sweeps his blonde wig off. Joe, who's had enough, makes a
move to sit up, but Jerry pushes him back gently.
Don't scream, please. Don't spoil it --
it's too beautiful. Just think of
it, you and I -- same berth, opposite
sexes -- male and female -- he and
she -- the moth and the flame --
(takes Joe's hand,
puts it on his heart)
Feel my heart -- like a crazy drum.
(starts kissing Joe's
I'm mad for you, Sugar.
What are we going to do about it?
Joe has had it. Wheeling around, he grabs Jerry by the front
of his nightgown, starts to shake him like a terrier shaking
Sugar, what are you doing?
Don't get sore, baby --
Beginning to realize something may be wrong, Jerry reaches
up and switches on the light. There is something wrong.
(holding Jerry with
one hand, cocking
Male and female -- the moth and the
flame -- I ought to slug you!
(slapping wig back on
You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?
The sprawling gingerbread structure basks in the warm Florida
sun, fanned by towering palm trees, and lulled by waves
breaking lazily on the exclusive beach frontage.
Wintertime and the livin' is easy, fish are jumpin' and the
market is high.
The hotel bus chugs up the curved driveway toward the main
entrance, hauling the Society Syncopators fromt he station.
The rear of the bus is loaded with luggage and instruments.
From inside comes the SOUND of girls' voices, singing DOWN
AMONG THE SHELTERING PALMS.
On the hotel veranda, creaking in their rocking chairs, are
a dozen elderly gentlemen. They are all in resort clothes --
white flannels, striped flannels, knickers, Panama hats,
white linen caps -- and they are all reading the Wall Street
Journal. Their combined age must be about a thousand years,
and their combined bank balance just about as many millions.
As they hear the bus drawing up, they stop rocking, and slowly
lower their Wall Street Journals. They are all wearing
sunglasses, and leaning forward, they peer through them at
the new arrivals.
In the driveway, the girls are climbing out of the bus,
luggage and instruments are being unloaded. Jerry helps Sugar
down, while Joe gets their instruments out of the pile. He
hands the bull-fiddle case to Jerry, the ukulele case to
(taking the ukulele
I'll carry the instruments.
Thank you, Daphne.
(handing Jerry the
Thank you, Daphne.
Isn't she a sweetheart?
He leads her toward the entrance. Jerry, loaded down with
bass fiddle, ukulele and sax, glares after them -- angrily,
then follows them, balancing precariously on his high heels.
On the veranda, the twelve rich dodos remove their sunglasses
to get a better look at the girls. The one nearest to the
steps is OSGOOD FIELDING III.
He is a bit younger than the others, but that still puts him
in his late fifties. He wears white plus-fours, argyle socks,
two-toned shoes, and a gleam in his eye. He tips his Panama
hat rakishly as the girl musicians mount the steps.
Joe and Sugar come up the steps. Joe nudges her, directing
her attention to the old crooks.
Well, there they are -- more
millionaires than you can shake a
I'll bet there isn't one of them
Seventy-five. That's three-quarters
of a century. Makes a girl think.
Yeah, I hope they brought their
As they pass Osgood Fielding III and start into the lobby,
he tips his Panama jauntily. Then he turns to inspect the
The next girl is Jerry, struggling up the steps, loaded with
bass fiddle, saxophone and ukulele. He trips on the top steps,
loses one of his shoes. Osgood jumps up gallantly.
Just a moment, miss --
(picks up shoe)
(extending his foot
(slipping shoe on)
I am Osgood Fielding the Third.
I am Cinderella the Second.
He starts to pull away, but Osgood holds on to his ankle.
If there is one thing I admire, it's
a girl with a shapely ankle.
Me too. Bye now.
Let me carry one of the instruments.
(loading him up with
all the instruments)
Aren't you a sweetheart?
He starts into the lobby, Osgood struggling after him with
The lobby is very resort-y -- potted palms, overhead fans,
and a heavy undergrowth of wicker furniture. Osgood, balancing
the instruments, follows Jerry in.
It certainly is delightful to have
some young blood around here.
Personally, I'm Type O.
You know, I've always been fascinated
by show business.
You don't say.
Yes, indeed. It's cost my family
quite a bit of money.
You invest in shows?
No -- it's showgirls. I've been
married seven or eight times.
You're not sure?
Mama is keeping score. Frankly, she's
getting rather annoyed with me
I'm not surprised.
So this year, when George White's
Scandals opened, she packed me off
to Florida. Right now she thinks I'm
out there on my yacht -- deep-sea
Well, pull in your reel, Mr. Fielding.
You're barking up the wrong fish.
They come up to the elevator. The doors are just closing on
a load of girl musicians going up.
If I promise not to be a naughty boy --
how about dinner tonight?
Sorry. I'll be on the bandstand.
Oh, of course. Which of these
instruments do you play?
Fascinating. Do you use a bow or do
you just pluck it?
Most of the time I slap it.
You must be quite a girl.
My last wife was an acrobatic dancer --
you know, sort of a contortionist --
she could smoke a cigarette while
holding it between her toes -- Zowie! --
but Mama broke it up.
She doesn't approve of girls who
The elevator has come down again, and the doors open.
(reaching for the
Goodbye, Mr. Fielding.
This is where I get off.
(the naughty boy)
Oh, you don't get off that easy.
He eases her into the elevator, follows with the instruments.
All right, driver. Once around the
park. Slowly. And keep your eyes on
The door closes. CAMERA PANS UP to the floor indicator. The
arrow moves smoothly past the second floor, then stops
abruptly, jiggles violently, starts down again. CAMERA PANS
DOWN. The elevator door opens.
What kind of girl do you think I am,
He slaps Osgood's face, takes the instruments from him.
Please. It won't happen again.
No, thank you. I'll walk.
He stalks out of the elevator with the instruments, starts
indignantly up the stairs. Osgood stands holding his cheek,
looking after him enraptured.
This is the floor on which the girls are billeted. Sugar,
Joe and the other Society Syncopators are gathered around
Bienstock and Sue, while bellhops are bringing up the luggage.
(holding up a list)
All right, girls -- here are your
(tapping his pockets)
My glasses -- where are my glasses?
As he continues to search, Sue takes the list from him, starts
to read it off.
Olga and Mary Lou in 412 -- and Mary
Lou, keep your kimono buttoned when
you ring for room service -- Josephine
and Daphne in 413 -- Dolores and
Sugar in 414 --
Me and Sugar?
What did you expect -- a one-legged
Joe and Sugar are moving on toward their rooms.
I wish they'd put us in the same
So do I. But don't worry -- we'll be
seeing a lot of each other.
They reach the door of 414, and Sugar opens it.
414 -- that's the same room number I
had in Cincinnati -- my last time
around with a male band. What a heel
What else? And was I ever crazy about
him. Two in the morning, he sent me
down for knackwurst and potato salad --
they were out of potato salad, so I
brought coleslaw -- so he threw it
right in my face.
Forget it, Sugar, will you? Forget
about saxophone players. You're going
to meet a millionaire -- a young
What makes you so sure?
Just my feminine intuition.
She smiles gratefully at him as she enters 414. Joe crosses
to the open door of 413, goes in.
It's a small room, twin-beds, more wicker, adjoining bathroom.
Outside the French windows is a balcony, giving on the ocean.
As Joe comes in, a BELLHOP is just setting down some suitcases --
two of them are Joe's and Jerry's, the third is a somewhat
more elegant model in brown cloth with a white stripe down
the middle and the initials B.B. The Bellhop, a fresh punk
of seventeen, turns to Joe.
Are these your bags?
Yes. And that one, too.
I suppose you want a tip?
Forget it, doll. After all, you work
here -- I work here -- and believe
you me, it's nice to have you with
(the young Clark Gable)
Listen, doll -- what time do you get
Because I'm working the night shift --
and I got a bottle of gin stashed
away -- and as soon as there's a
Aren't you a little too young for
Wanna see my driver's license?
Get lost, will you?
That's the way I like 'em -- big and
(at the door)
And get rid of your roommate.
He pulls out his bow tie, which is on an elastic, lets in
snap back like an exclamation point. Joe looks after him
grimly, then his eyes fall on the suitcase with the stripe,
and he shoves it quickly under the bed. The door opens again,
and Joe whirls around. Jerry comes staggering in breathlessly
with the instruments, kicks the door shut with his foot.
Why, that dirty old man!
He throws the instruments disgustedly on one of the beds.
I got pinched in the elevator.
Well, now you know how the other
(looking in the mirror)
And I'm not even pretty.
They don't care -- just as long as
you wear skirts. It's like waving a
red flag in front of a bull.
I'm tired of being a flag. I want to
be a bull again. Lets get out of
here, Joe. Let's blow.
You promised -- the minute we hit
Florida, we were going to beat it.
How can we? We're broke.
We can get a job with another band.
A male band.
Listen, stupid -- right now Spats
Colombo and his chums are looking
for us in every male band in the
But this is so humiliating.
So you got pinched in the elevator.
So what? Would you rather be picking
lead out of your navel?
All right, all right!
(rips off his hat and
wig, tosses them on
But how long can we keep this up?
What's the beef? We're sitting pretty.
We get room and board -- we get paid
every week -- there's the palm trees
and the flying fish --
What are you giving me with the flying
fish? I know why you want to stick
around -- you're after Sugar.
Me? After Sugar?
I watched you two on the bus -- lovey-
dovey -- whispering and giggling and
borrowing each other's lipstick --
What are you talking about? Sugar
and me, we're just like sisters.
Yeah? Well, I'm your fairy godmother --
and I'm keeping an eye on you.
There is a KNOCK on the door.
Are you decent?
Joe pulls Jerry's wig out of the hat, jams it down his head.
Bienstock comes in.
You girls have seen a brown bag with
a white stripe and my initials?
My suitcase -- with all my resort
No, we haven't.
Can't understand it. First my glasses
disappear -- then one of my suitcases --
Sugar appears in the doorway behind him.
Where's my ukulele?
-- now a ukulele? There must be a
sneak thief around here.
He goes out, shaking his head in puzzlement.
(handing her the
Here you are, Sugar.
A bunch of us girls are going for a
swim. Want to come along?
Wait a minute, Daphne. You haven't
got a bathing suit.
She doesn't need one. I don't have
See? She doesn't have one either --
We'll rent some at the bathhouse.
How about you, Josephine?
No, thanks. I'd rather stay in and
soak in a hot tub.
He steps into the bathroom, turns on the faucet.
Yeah -- let her soak. Come on.
Don't get burned, Daphne.
Oh, I have some suntan lotion.
She'll rub it on me -- and I'll rub
it on her -- and we'll rub it on
each other -- bye.
He ushers Sugar out in high spirits. Joe looks after them,
then quickly locks the hall door, and stepping into the
bathroom, turns off the water. He hurries over to the bed,
slides out Bienstock's suitcase, opens it. It's crammed full
of resort clothes -- and Joe takes out a blazer, flannel
pants, and a yachting cap, which he perches on his head.
Then he lifts his skirt above his knee, pulls out Bienstock's
glasses from under his garter. He puts them on, peers around
myopically. His enlarged eyes are grotesque -- but then again,
so is his scheme.
To the accompaniment of BY THE BEAUTIFUL SEA, several girls
from the band, in bathing suits and caps, are running into
the surf. The other girls are already in the water, splashing
around and frolicking like a school of playful porpoises.
There is no sign of Jerry. Sugar, standing up to her waist
in water, suddenly lets out a startled SQUEAL, slaps the
surface of the water behind her.
Daphne! Cut that out!
Jerry comes diving up, spouting water like a dolphin. He is
wearing a girls' knitted bathing suit with a short skirt,
and a rubber cap.
What do you think you're doing?
Just a little trick I picked up in
A good-sized wave comes rolling in.
Oooh. Here comes a big one.
He grabs Sugar, holding on to her tightly. The wave breaks
over them, sweeps them off their feet.
Strolling casually along the beach is Joe. He is wearing
Bienstock's blazer (crest and eight gold buttons), flannel
slacks (bell-bottom), a silk scarf, a yachting cap, and the
glasses (which blur his vision considerably). In his hand he
carries a rolled-up copy of the Wall Street Journal. He looks
off toward the ocean.
The girls are scampering out of the water, and some of them
start to toss a beach ball around. Sugar and Jerry come
running up to the beach hand in hand. They take their caps
off, and Sugar puts on a short terry-cloth jacket.
Jerry jumps around on one foot, his head tilted, shaking the
water out of his ear, then starts to rub himself off with a
You know, Daphne -- I had no idea
you were such a big girl.
You should have seen me before I
went on a diet.
I mean, your shoulders -- and your
That's from carrying around the bull
But there's one thing I envy you
You're so flat-chested. Clothes hang
so much better on you than they do
Look out, Daphne!
The beach ball comes sailing INTO SHOT, and Jerry catches
Come on, Sugar -- let's play.
He takes Sugar's hand, skips off with her to join the other
Joe, meanwhile, has come up to a basket chair nearby. Sitting
in front of it, sorting sea shells out for a small pail, is
a BOY of five. A few feet away stands his MOTHER, calling to
Let's go, Junior. Time for your nap.
Nah. I wanna play.
(out of the corner of
You heard your mudder, Junior. Scram.
They boy looks up at him, fearfully.
This beach ain't big enough for both
The boy scrambles to his feet, and screaming "Mommy," runs
off, leaving the pailful of shells behind. Joe settles himself
in the chair, peers over his shoulder toward the girls playing
The girls, Sugar and Jerry among them, are standing in a
wide circle, tossing the beach ball around and chanting
rhythmically: "I love coffee, I love tea, how many boys are
stuck on me? One, two, three, four, five -- "
There is a wild throw over Sugar's head, in the direction of
Joe's chair. Sugar turns and runs after the ball to retrieve
This is exactly what Joe has been waiting for. As the ball
comes rolling past, he unfolds the Wall Street Journal,
pretends to be reading it. Just as Sugar runs by, Joe extends
his foot a couple of inches -- enough to trip her and send
her sprawling to the sand.
(lowering paper; Cary
Grant by now)
Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
(helping her up)
You're not hurt, are you?
I don't think so.
I wish you'd make sure.
Because usually, when people find
out who I am, they get themselves a
wheel chair and a shyster lawyer,
and sue me for a quarter of a million
Well, don't worry. I won't sue you --
no matter who you are.
(returning to chair)
Who are you?
Now, really --
Jerry and the other girls are looking off toward Sugar,
waiting for the ball.
Hey, Sugar -- come on.
Sugar picks up the ball.
He buries himself behind the Wall Street Journal again.
Sugar hesitates for a second, then throws the ball back to
the girls. She steps closer to Joe, peers around the paper,
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
(without looking up)
Not very likely.
Are you staying at the hotel?
Not at all.
Your face is familiar.
Possible you saw it in a newspaper --
or magazine -- Vanity Fair --
That must be it.
(waving her aside)
Would you mind moving just a little?
You're blocking my view.
Your view of what?
They run up a red-and-white flag on
the yacht when it's time for
(snapping at the bait)
You have a yacht?
She turns and looks seaward at a half-a-dozen yachts of
different sizes bobbing in the distance.
Which one is yours -- the big one?
Certainly not. With all that unrest
in the world, I don't think anybody
should have a yacht that sleeps more
I quite agree. Tell me, who runs up
that flag -- your wife?
No, my flag steward.
And who mixes the cocktails -- your
No, my cocktail steward. Look, if
you're interested in whether I'm
married or not --
I'm not interested at all.
Well, I'm not.
That's very interesting.
Joe resumes reading the paper. Sugar sits on the sand beside
How's the stock market?
Up, up, up.
I'll bet just while we were talking,
you made like a hundred thousand
Could be. Do you play the market?
No -- the ukulele. And I sing.
For your own amusement?
Well -- a group of us are appearing
at the hotel. Sweet Sue and Her
You're society girls?
Oh, yes. Quite. You know -- Vassar,
Bryn Mawr -- we're only doing this
for a lark.
Syncopators -- does that mean you
play that fast music -- jazz?
Yeah. Real hot.
Oh. Well, I guess some like it hot.
But personally, I prefer classical
So do I. As a matter of fact, I spent
three years at the Sheboygan
Conservatory of Music.
Good school! And your family doesn't
object to your career?
They do indeed. Daddy threatened to
cut me off without a cent, but I
don't care. It was such a bore --
coming-out parties, cotillions --
Inauguration balls --
Opening of the Opera --
Riding to hounds --
-- and always the same Four Hundred.
You know, it's amazing we never ran
into each other before. I'm sure I
would have remembered anybody as
attractive as you.
You're very kind. I'll bet you're
also very gentle -- and helpless --
I beg your pardon?
You see, I have this theory about
men with glasses.
Maybe I'll tell you when I know you
a little better. What are you doing
I thought you might like to come to
the hotel and hear us play.
I'd like to -- but it may be rather
(his eyes on the pail
with the shells)
I only come ashore twice a day --
when the tide goes out.
It's on the account of the shells.
That's my hobby.
You collect shells?
(taking a handful of
shells from the pail)
Yes. So did my father and my
grandfather -- we've all had this
passion for shells -- that's why we
named the oil company after it.
Please -- no names. Just call me
By this time, the ball game is breaking up, and Jerry
approaches Sugar and Joe.
Come on, Sugar -- time to change for
Run along, Daphne -- I'll catch up
(a casual glance at
He takes a couple of steps away from them, freezes, comes
back and stares at Joe open-mouthed.
What is it, young lady? What are you
You -- you --
This happens to me all the time in
I recognized him too -- his picture
was in Vanity Fair.
(waving him aside)
Would you mind moving along, please?
Yes, you're in the way. He's waiting
for a signal from his yacht.
It sleeps twelve.
This is my friend Daphne. She's a
I'm a what?
Or was it Bryn Mawr?
I heard a very sad story about a
girl who went to Bryn Mawr. She
squealed on her roommate, and they
found her strangled with her own
Yes -- you have to be very careful
about picking a roommate.
Well, I guess I'd better go --
It's been delightful meeting you
And you will come to hear us tonight?
If it's at all possible --
Oh, please do come. Don't disappoint
us. It'll be such fun. And bring
Come on, Daphne.
She leads Jerry away. Joe throws them a casual salute.
As Jerry and Sugar move off, Jerry looks over his shoulder.
Well, I'll be -- ! How about that
Now look, Daphne -- hands off -- I
saw him first.
Sugar, dear -- let me give you some
advice. If I were a girl -- and I am --
I'd watch my step.
If I'd been watching my step, I never
would have met him. Wait till I tell
Yeah -- Josephine.
Will she be surprised. I just can't
wait to see her face --
Neither can I. Come on -- lets go up
to her room and tell her -- right
He grabs her hand, starts to run toward the hotel.
We don't have to run.
Oh yes, we do!
Jerry, holding Sugar by the hand, comes running down the
corridor from the elevator. He flings open the door of 413,
pulls Sugar inside.
INT. ROOM 413 - DAY
Jerry and Sugar stop breathlessly, look around. The room is
I guess she's not in here.
That's funny. Josie --
dress on a hanger;
I can't imagine where she can be.
Well, I'll come back later.
No, no, Sugar -- wait. I have a
feeling she's going to show up any
Believe it or not -- Josephine
predicted the whole thing.
Yeah. This is one for Ripley.
Do you suppose she went out shopping?
That's it. Something tells me she's
going to walk through that door in a
whole new outfit.
He opens the door, peers out into the corridor expecting Joe
to show up in the yachting outfit. At the same time, through
the partly open door of the bathroom, comes Josephine's VOICE,
singing "RUNNING WILD."
Jerry does a double-take. Sugar starts toward the bathroom
door and opens it. Jerry follows her, incredulously.
In the bathroom, Joe with his wig on, is lying languidly in
the tub taking a bubble-bath, up to his neck in white foam.
Oh, I didn't hear you come in.
Jerry looks back toward the windows, trying to figure out
how Joe got in.
The most wonderful thing happened --
They repealed Prohibition?
Oh, come on -- you can do better
I met one of them.
One of whom?
Shell Oil, Junior. He's got millions --
he's got glasses -- and he's got a
You don't say!
He's not only got a yacht, he's got
Go on -- tell me all about him.
Well, he's young and handsome and a
bachelor -- and he's a real gentleman --
not one of these grabbers.
Maybe you'd better go after him --
if you don't want to lose him.
Oh, I'm not going to let this one
get away. He's so cute -- collects
Shells? Whatever for?
You know -- the old shell game.
Daphne, you're bothering us.
Anyway, you're going to meet him
Because he said he's coming to hear
us play -- maybe.
What do you mean, maybe? I saw the
way he looked at you. He'll be there
I hope so.
What do you think, Josephine? What
does it say in your crystal ball?
Joe glares at him. Meanwhile, Dolores has come into the room
in her wet bathing suit and carrying a dripping rubber horse.
She sticks her head into the bathroom.
Hey, Sugar, you got the key? I'm
locked out and I'm making a puddle
in the hall.
(to Joe and Jerry)
See you on the bandstand, girls.
She follows Dolores out, closing the door. Joe and Jerry are
alone now. The atmosphere is tense. They look at each other
Wise guy, huh? Trying to louse me up --
And what are you trying to do to
poor Sugar? Putting on that
millionaire act -- and that phony
(a la Cary Grant)
Nobody talks like that! I've seen
you pull some low tricks on dames --
but this is the trickiest and the
lowest and the meanest --
His words trail off as he sees Joe rise slowly out of the
tub. The mystery of his quick change is now solved -- he
didn't change at all. He is fully dressed in Bienstock's
outfit, and is clutching the yachting cap. As he emerges
from the bathtub, covered with suds, he looks like some
diabolique monster. He advances on Jerry menacingly.
I'm not scared of you --
I may be small, but I'm wiry -
(retreating some more)
When I'm aroused, I'm a tiger!
By this time he is up against the wall. Joe is closing in on
Don't look at me like that, Joe -- I
didn't mean any harm -- it was just
a little joke -- don't worry -- I'll
press the suit myself.
The phone RINGS.
Joe closes in relentlessly.
You better answer the phone --
Joe slams the sopping cap on Jerry's head. As Jerry coughs
and splutters, Joe picks up the RINGING phone.
(remembering he is a
girl, pitches voice
Hello -- yes, this is 413 -- ship-to-
shore? -- all right, I'll take it.
It is a chic vessel indeed -- and so is Osgood Fielding the
Third, lounging in a deck chair, speaking into a radio-
(that gleam in his
Hello, Daphne? It's that naughty boy
again -- you know, Osgood -- in the
elevator -- you slapped my face? Who
INT. ROOM 413 - DAY
Joe is on the phone. Through the open door of the bathroom
we see Jerry wiping his face.
This is her roommate. Daphne can't
talk right now. Is it anything urgent?
OSGOOD - ON PHONE.
Well, it is to me. Will you give her
a message? I'd like her to have a
little supper with me on my yacht
after the show tonight.
JOE - ON PHONE.
Got it. Supper -- yacht -- after the
show -- I'll tell her.
OSGOOD - ON PHONE.
The New Caledonia. That's the name
of it. The Old Caledonia went down
during a wild party off Cape Hatteras.
But tell her not to worry -- this is
going to be a quiet little midnight
snack -- just the two of us.
JOE - ON PHONE.
Just the two of you? What about the
OSGOOD - ON PHONE.
Oh, that's all taken care of. I'm
giving them shore leave. We'll have
a little cold pheasant -- and
champagne -- and I checked with the
Coast Guard -- there'll be a full
moon tonight -- oh, and tell her I
got a new batch of Rudy Vallee records --
INT. ROOM 413 - DAY
That's good thinking. Daphne's a
push-over for him.
Jerry comes up, still holding the towel.
I'm a push-over for whom? What is
it? Who's on the phone?
(shushing him; into
Yes, Mr. Fielding -- you'll pick her
up after the show in your motorboat --
goodbye -- what's that you said? Oh --
zowie! I'll give her the message.
(he hangs up)
What message? What motorboat?
You got it made, kid. Fielding wants
you to have a little cold pheasant
with him on his yacht --
Oh, he does!
Just the three of you on that great
big boat -- you and him and Rudy
Fat chance! You call him right back
and tell him I'm not going.
Of course, you're not. I'm going.
You're going to be on the boat with
that dirty old man?
No. I'm going to be on that boat
And where's he going to be?
He's going to be ashore with you.
Oh, no! Not tonight, Josephine!
It's a good sized nightclub of the period, with about 200
guests in formal dress -- evening gowns, white dinner jackets --
at the tables and on the dance floor. A revolving globe,
with a mirrored surface, throws patterns of light and shadow
on the dancers.
On the bandstand, Sugar, backed by the rest of the orchestra,
is singing. The girls in the band, Joe and Jerry among them,
wear uniform evening gowns and long earrings. Sugar and Sue
war distinctive gowns.
Sugar's song is "I WANT TO BE LOVED BY YOU" -- which she
belts across in the style of the Twenties, complete with
poop-poop-pa-doop trimmings. As she sings, she scans the
room for her bespectacled Prince Charming, but there is no
sign of him -- naturally, since he is playing the saxophone
In back of Joe is Jerry, thumping the bass grimly. He looks
off, sees --
Osgood Fielding the Third, in a white mess jacket, sitting
alone at a table. Catching Jerry's eye, he waves exuberantly,
his face beaming with amorous anticipation.
On the bandstand, Jerry looks away haughtily.
(over his shoulder)
Daphne -- your boy friend is waving
You can both go take a flying jump.
Remember -- he's your date for
tonight. So smile.
Jerry smiles feebly.
Come on, you can do better than that.
Give him teeth -- the whole
(a frozen smile on
Why do I let you talk me into these
Because we're pals -- buddies -- the
Don't give me the musketeers! How'm
I going to keep the guy ashore?
Tell him you get seasick on a yacht.
Play miniature golf with him.
Oh, no. I'm not getting caught in a
miniature sand trap with that guy.
The fresh young Bellhop we saw earlier comes up beside the
bandstand, carrying a large wicker basket full of flowers.
Which of you dolls is Daphne?
The Bellhop hands the basket to Jerry, nods off toward
It's from Satchel Mouth at Table
(he breaks off one
flower, hands it to
This is from me to you, doll.
Beat it, Buster.
Never mind leaving your door open --
I got a passkey.
He winks and moves off. Joe looks after him contemptuously,
then turns to Jerry, picks up the basket of flowers.
What are you doing with my flowers?
I'm just borrowing them. You'll get
them back tomorrow.
He hands Jerry the single flower, then looks around, fishes
a small envelope out of his decolletage, slips it into the
Sugar finishes her number, returns to her seat next to Joe.
Sue leads the orchestra into the signature music, SWEET SUE.
I guess he's not going to show up --
it's give minutes to one -- you
suppose he forgot?
Well, you know how those millionaires
(pointing at basket
These came for you.
(she opens the note)
It's Shell Oil.
Yes. He wants me to have supper with
him -- on his yacht -- he's going to
pick me up at the pier.
You heard her -- yes.
Oh, Josephine -- just imagine -- me,
Sugar Kowalczyk, from Sandusky, Ohio,
on a millionaire's yacht. If my mother
could only see me now --
(looking off toward
I hope my mother never finds out.
At his table, Osgood, catching Jerry's look, blows kisses to
On the bandstand, Sue turns to the audience for her signature
That's it for tonight, folks. This
is Sweet Sue, saying good night, and
reminding all you daddies out there --
every girl in my band is a virtuoso --
and I intend to keep it that way!
Behind her, Sugar picks up her ukulele and the basket of
flowers, tiptoes off the stand. Joe waves after her, wishing
her luck. Sugar hurries toward the staircase, passing
Bienstock, who is planted near the reservation desk. As Sue
cuts off the music Joe frantically packs up his saxophone.
Then he leaps off the bandstand, and dashing past the
bewildered Bienstock, starts up the stairs two at a time.
INT. ROOM 413 - NIGHT
Joe barges in, drops the saxophone case, locks the door.
Then he darts into the bathroom, wriggling out of his dress.
CAMERA PANS OVER to the other door of the bathroom as the
dress and shoes come flying out. They are immediately followed
by Joe, now partially dressed as a man. He slips into
Bienstock's coat, puts on the yachting cap. Even to a captain
he would be a captain now, except for one thing -- in his
haste, he has neglected to take off his earrings. He opens a
window, steps out onto the balcony.
Joe moves along the balcony, climbs over the railing, starts
to shinny down a post.
EXT. SIDE ENTRANCE OF HOTEL - NIGHT
Sugar, a fur boa over the evening gown she wore on the
bandstand, comes tripping down the steps, hurries eagerly
toward the beach.
EXT. HOTEL GROUNDS - NIGHT
In the f.g., to one side of the main entrance, a dozen
bicycles are parked in a rack. Joe drops down into the scene,
sees the bicycles, pulls one out, mounts it, and pedals off.
Standing under a tree in front of the hotel are Osgood and
Jerry. Jerry is in his evening gown and is holding a flower
in his hand.
But it's such a waste -- a full moon --
an empty yacht --
I'll throw up!
Well, then, why don't we go dancing?
I know a little road-house, down the
Joe comes whizzing past them on his bicycle. Jerry looks
after him, open-mouthed.
Well, I'll be -- ! He does have a
About that roadhouse --
They got a Cuban band that's the
berries. Why don't we go there --
blindfold the orchestra -- and tango
You know something, Mr. Fielding?
You're a pretty hot little firecracker
He links his arm through Jerry's, leads him down the path.
Sugar is now almost running toward the pier, a look of great
expectation on her face. This is the big night of her life.
Joe is pedaling desperately to get to the pier before her,
oblivious of the earrings dangling incongruously from his
EXT. PIER - NIGHT
About a dozen motorboats are tied up to the pier. Sugar
hurries across the planking and up the stairs to the deserted
pier, stops and looks around for her date. Behind her, Joe
comes skimming along the planking on his bicycle, swoops
under the pier.
A disheartened Sugar thinks that she has been stood up.
Joe dismounts from the bike, ducks underneath the pier, and
hops into the motorboat marked CALEDONIA.
Straightening up, he waves to Sugar on the pier above him.
Sugar turns, her face lighting up.
She hurries down the steps toward him.
Joe suddenly remembers his glasses. He takes them out of his
pocket, puts them on. As he does so, he feels the Earrings.
He pulls them off, shoves them in his pocket -- and he's not
a second too soon, for Sugar has just about reached him.
Been waiting long?
(Cary Grant again)
It's not how long you wait -- it's
who you're waiting for.
He helps her down into the motorboat.
Thank you. And thank you for the
I wanted them to fly down some orchids
from our greenhouse but all of Long
Island is fogged in.
It's the thought that counts.
She settles herself back on the cushioned seat. Joe starts
fiddling around with the mysterious knobs on the instrument
panel. He pushes, pulls, twists the knob -- finally the motor
turns over, but does not catch.
I seem to be out of gas.
It's sort of funny -- you being out
of gas -- I mean, Shell Oil and
Joe, working the knobs desperately, does something right,
and the motor starts with a ROAR.
Here we go.
He presses every lever he can find, manages to shift into
gear. The boat backs out erratically. Joe shifts into neutral,
but no matter how hard he tries to find the forward gear, he
keeps winding up in reverse.
I just got this motorboat -- it's an
Looks like they're on the wrong track.
Do you mind riding backwards? It may
take a little longer --
It's not how long it takes -- it's
who's taking you.
The motorboat glides off backwards, and as though it were
the most natural thing in the world, skims out toward the
open water, where the yachts are anchored.
EXT. YACHT AT ANCHOR - NIGHT
The CALEDONIA is bobbing gently on a calm, moonlit sea.
The motorboat with Joe and Sugar comes in stern-backwards.
Joe, looking over his shoulder, maneuvers the motorboat to a
stop under the landing ladder. (Reams of romantic music under
all of this).
as Joe and Sugar aboard. She gazes around, starry-eyed.
It looked so small from the beach --
but when you're on it, it's more
like a cruiser -- or a destroyer.
Just regulation size. We have three
Mother keeps hers in Southampton --
and Dad took his to Venezuela -- the
company is laying a new pipe line.
My dad is more interested in
railroads. Baltimore and Ohio. Which
is the port and which is the
(the old mariner)
Well, that depends -- on whether
you're coming or going -- I mean,
normally the aft is on the other
side of the stern -- and that's the
bridge -- so you can get from one
side of the boat to the other -- how
about a glass of champagne?
Love it. Which way?
Yes -- now let's see -- where do you
suppose the steward set it up?
He looks around, confused by the unfamiliar geography, then
tentatively opens the nearest door, revealing a flight of
stairs leading below deck.
Oh, you have an upstairs and a
Yes -- that's our hurricane cellar.
He closes the door, opens another one -- it's a storage bin,
containing mops, pails, coils of rope, etc.
And another nice thing about this
yacht -- lots of closet space.
Sugar, meanwhile, has stepped up to a lighted porthole, looks
Oh -- in here.
Of course. On Thursdays, they always
serve me in the small salon.
He opens the door, ushers Sugar inside.