04x35 - Adventure in New York

[bunniefuu]

My Three Sons On.

The very next day that the love in her heart would be
gone Oh, Mike, does it have to be love in her heart?

Well, what do you want it to be, love in her liver?

Love in her heart is too common
of... How about love in her eyes?

You don't hear that all the time.

All right.

Love in her eyes.

Boy, Dad, if I brush him anymore, he's going to be bald.

He looks just beautiful, Chip.

Why don't you give him a little more in this area?

Well, why do I always have to be the one that brushes him?

Because you use him the most.

Besides, you're the youngest.

What a future.

No matter how old I get, I'll always be the youngest.

Here's the morning mail.

Anything for me?

Here's a letter for tr*mp.

tr*mp?

Says occupant.

Well, he's an occupant, isn't he?

Yep.

Looks like a lot more bills, Steve.

Oh, good.

For a while there, I was afraid we might
have a little money left over this month.

Well, happiness, boys.

For us?

Yeah, from New York.

What's from the music publisher?

Does it feel like a check?

Well, it could be.

What's it say, Mike?

Well, I don't know.

Let me get it open, will you?

It's about time we hit it big with one of our songs.

Yeah.

Oh, they don't accept unsolicited manuscripts, either.

And one of our best songs.

Uh, which one was it?

You Turn My Love Into Hash.

Oh, that's too bad.

Sounds like that song had just about
everything to do with it.

Look, Fassman and Brighton joined the Eaters Club.

Well, that sounds kind of silly.

Where's he going to carry his credit card?

Well, we might as well get back to work on this song.

What for?

We write them and we mail them in and
nobody ever opens the envelopes.

If you want to sell a song, you've got to
take it to New York.

You've got to give them the old razzmatazz.

Uh, Bub.

You think Hoagie mailed in Stardust?

Dad, do you think maybe we could go to New York?

No, I don't think so.

You know, Dad, neither one of us has school next week.

That's right.

Look, it'd just be a wild goose chase.

Do you know what the chances are of your selling a song?

About one in a million.

Dad, the odds could be worse.

How about it, Dad?

Let us find out for ourselves whether
we're wasting our time.

Yeah, well, we're still young.

Look, you don't know anybody in New York.

Well, I could write Charlie Turner.

Who is Charlie Turner, Bob?

An old pal of mine, a headliner in Vaudeville.

Big song and dance man.

In Vaudeville?

Bob, that was 30 years ago.

But he's still a big shot, knows everybody
in show business.

He says so in his letters.

Dad, he could probably introduce us to a music publisher.

How many times have I told you,
fellas, the only way to any lasting

success is through a lot of hard work,
a lot of preparation.

Dad, if we sold a song and it hit big,
Sally and I could get married right away.

And I could retire from mowing lawn.

I've heard a lot worse junk than theirs.

Yeah.

Look.

Fellas, I've been through it.

When I was in college, I played saxophone with a little
group we called ourselves the Carroll College Cut-Ups.

We thought we were pretty good.

We just knew if we ever got to New York,
we'd set that big town on its big fat ear.

Well, we finally talked the folks into letting us go.

After we'd been in New York about three
weeks, we got a job.

Playing one night in a speakeasy.

What's a speakeasy?

Well, that was kind of a restaurant chip.

Well, after that... That thing's really got tough.

We, uh, ran out of money.

We had to hock the instruments so we could
get something to eat.

And, uh, well, the whole thing ended up
with us wiring the folks for a bus fare

home and enough money to get the instruments out of hock.

It wasn't any fun.

You wouldn't want to go through it.

We wouldn't?

Dad, your father gave you a shot at it.

And that's all they're asking of you.

Dad, if they sell a song and it becomes a hit
and they get rich, we can buy an electric guitar.

Electric dog pressure.

Oh, boy.

You had to know Charlie Turner.

Well, if you think you can afford it, okay.

That's a big time.

New York City.

Dad, if we think we can afford it?

Rob, when I went to New York, I paid my own way.

You're going to need money for bus fare
and hotels and food.

You're going to have to dig into your savings accounts.

We will?

Well, sure we will.

You don't expect Dad to pay for it.

Do you?

No, I guess not.

Now, where do you think your fellas are going to stay?

Do you have any idea?

Well, I hear that Waldorf's not a bad place.

But if we're going to have to pay our own
way, then why is good enough?

Yeah.

I'll give you a letter of introduction to
Mother Riley's boarding house.

Mother Riley's boarding house?

Bub, what makes you think it'd still be there?

I've got a where-have-you-been card from
her only last year.

Well, then we'll stay at Mother Riley's
boarding house, Dad.

Yeah.

Listen, I'm going over to Sally's and tell.

I'll see you later, partner.

Yeah, see you later.

I'd better go upstairs and write some more songs.

Now, don't worry.

Charlie Turner will take care of everything.

I wonder if Irving Berlin's father went through this.

Who's Irving Berlin?

Now,

Rob, what do you mean, kid?

You'd never make it from here.

How do you know?

We didn't tell you where we're going.

Come on, Rob.

We're in New York City.

Now, we're going to be in the chips.

Think big.

Well, not on my grass-cutting money.

Why do we have to take a cab?

Because I've got a wife and three kids.

That's why.

Will you let go?

Boy, when I think of all the lawns I had to mow.

Okay, Simon, Jim, let's have the piccolo.

Just what we need in New York.

Another musician.

Oh, no.

We're songwriters.

Oh, songwriters.

Then we go looking for Woodblood Island.

Where do you want to go?

Mother Riley's.

Where?

Mother Riley's, boarding house.

Never heard of it.

What?

Haven't you been driving in New York long?

Ever since the day I got out of Harvard,
but I still never heard of Mother Riley.

Maybe you'd like to give me a little hint, huh?

Like maybe an address.

Oh, sure.

Okay, boys, here we are.

You mean this is Mother Riley's?



Well, you must have the wrong address.

My grandfather used to live at Mother Riley's.

Oh, he was a fresh air nut.

Bub says this was a boarding house just a year ago.

A year?

You know what could happen to New York in a year?

They could tear down the Empire State
Building and put up a billboard.

Mike, what are we going to do?

Well, we can't just stand here.

Why not?

Take it easy.

I got all day.

And the meter's running.

Well, turn it off, then.

Somebody got something against my wife and kids?

Mike, come on, let's get going.

That meter's clicking away like crazy.

Mr. Fowler, where's the nearest Y?

Y?

Well, look, maybe we should go see Mr. Turner first.

Do you know where the Jester's Club is?

That I know.

Hey, that darn thing just went up another diamond.

We're standing still.

So jump up and down.

Jester's on 49th West to 6th.

Want to go?

Yeah, let's do that first.

Yeah, hurry.

Mr. Fowler, would you mind turning that
meter around the other way?

I can't stand looking at it.

Well, I said you can't even see it.

Maybe you'd like to drive.

Would you like to see Mr. Turner?

Yeah, Mr. Charles Turner.

I don't think I've seen him around this morning.

Doesn't he live here?

No.

Like most of the members, he just picks up his mail here.

Did you look for him at the palace?

Somebody want me, George?

Oh, Mr. Turner, I didn't see you come in.

These young men are asking for you.

Mr. Turner, I... Don't tell me.

I know.

You know, you're Bill O'Casey's boys.

Well, that's right, sir.

I'm Mike Douglas.

This is my brother, Robbie.

Mike.

Robbie.

How do you do?

Hey, why don't we go over and sit down?

Okay.

You know, I got your grandfather's letter yesterday.

Say, how is old Skinny?

Skinny?

I guess you haven't seen him lately.

Well, you're right.

You know, it must be 20 years.

But I can still see skinny milking bows on
the Keith Albee circuit.

You know, when he hit high C, he made the rafter shake.

Well, he does that now, climbing the stairs.

Well, he was quite a performer, your grandfather.

Well, Mr. Turner, he thinks you're the greatest, too.

And the way you stayed up on top kind of
gives him hope for the future.

Oh, yes, sir.

I was up there with the best of them.

Uh, Mr. Turner, Bub said you might be able to help us.

Oh, say, that's right.

Now, uh, you boys are songwriters, huh?

Well, we came to New York.

To find that out.

Uh, Bub thought you might be able to
introduce us to a song publisher.

Now, Robbie, my boy, that's all taken care of.

It is?

What?

My secretary called Buddy Albert's office
this morning, and it's all set.

Great!

You mean we've got an appointment at Albert Music Company?

When?

Anytime.

You just drop into the grill building and mention my name.

I'm sorry, Mr. Douglas, but Mr. Albert
isn't seeing anybody today.

Are you sure?

Mr. Turner said he'd arranged an appointment for us.

Oh, well, I'll check with the secretary.

Hello, Betty?

Uh, do you have an appointment for somebody named Douglas?

Tell her about Mr. Turner.

Charlie Turner.

Charlie Turner.

Oh, it was?

Okay, I'll tell him.

Thanks, hon.

Well, you were right.

But Mr. Albert's terribly sorry he can't see you today, but
his secretary suggested you call him any day next week.

Miss, we have to be back in school on Monday.

Oh, but Mr. Albert's a very busy man.

Oh, Mike, now what are we gonna do?

Do you suppose we could leave a couple of
our songs for Mr. Albert?

Oh, I'm sorry.

It's against the policy of the company.

We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Yeah!

No, it's because the people out there got
nothing to do but pick oranges.

It's not a fact.

That's why they get the big... But he's your kid.

What?

Oh, oh, yeah.

Hey, what happened?

We didn't even get to see him.

Did they give you the brush?

No, his secretary told us to call back next week.

Well, we won't even be here then.

Yeah.

If Mr. Turner can't get us in, what chance have we got?

So, my Felicia won't go to Vassar this year.

What do you say?

Should we check in at the Y?

What for?

Well, look, let's go on home.

That's telling them.

You get a little chip on the joint, you fold up.

What if Columbus gave up?

Where would we all be?

Today.

Me, I'd be in the old country, pushing a gondola.

Yeah, and he wouldn't even have a Columbus circle.

Or even the nightclub.

Stop with the routine, will you?

We got a problem here.

Frankie, you do a lot of hacking for Buddy Albert, right?

Regular.

Today, I'll take him.

Now, what's the matter?

You got rocks in your head?


and he's going to take him.

Oh, let him.

Live and let live.

Okay, okay, but not on my tips.

Buddy Albert puts one foot in my cab.

That's a buck tip.

You hear him, Herman?

Herman, Mr. Scroogey.

Give me a buck, Junior.

What for?

Give me a buck.

Boy, here goes a lawn and a third.

There you are, Frankie.

I'm Buddy Albert.

What are you, a wise guy trying to make me look cheap?

Care.

What, are you trying to make him look cheap?

Give me a chance.

I wish those guys would call.

It's kind of silly, I guess.

They've only been gone since yesterday.

I don't miss them a bit when they're here.

By now, some song publisher's probably
giving them a $10,000 advance.

Hiya, Mr. Albert.

Hiya.

Hey, where's Frankie?

He's got a fare.

Sorry, I thought you were vacant.

I am.

Get in.

Who are they?

Oh, them.

The radio's busted, so I put in some live entertainment.

Look, pal, what are you trying to pull?

Pull?

I should pull something on Buddy Albert.

Like I said, live entertainment, no extra charge.

Okay, Excelsior Health Club.

Ann, two choruses of Melancholy Baby.

Everybody out!

How many times do I have to tell you?

I've got to get to the health club.

Central Park ain't healthy.

You ever see a sick squirrel?

Please, Mr. Albert.

It'll only take a couple of minutes.

Yeah, don't forget that we know Mr. Turner.

Yeah.

You know, I'm beginning to regret.

I ever hustled Charlie Turner into singing one of my songs.

Oh, he told us about that.

Yeah, the Shea and Buffalo.

It was Procter's in Albany.

Right this way, Mr. Albert.

The meter ain't running.

The whole thing's on a house.

It's a beautiful day.

Come on, sit down over there, relax, enjoy it.

And here they are at great expense, all
the way from Bryant Park, the brothers, too.

Hit it, kid!

Broke my heart, nose, fat nose.

Oh, make me leave.

Broke my heart, nose.

I can paint a pretty picture and convince
my friends that I'm a real go-getter.

It's not very hard to fool the world,
but a broken heart knows better.

I can sing a song of gladness.

I can make believe that I never got a letter.

It's not very hard smiling through my
tears, but a broken heart knows better.

I'm terribly sorry.

The letter began.

But please try and understand that she
found another who still loves him so.

But I don't want the world to know.

I can hold my head up high as I tell my
friends I've decided to forget her.

It's not very hard to fool the world,
but a broken heart knows better.

I'm terribly sorry.

The letter began.

But please try and understand.

Understand.

That she found another who still loves him so.

But I don't want the world to know.

I can hold my head up high as I tell my
friends I've decided to forget her.

It's not very hard to fool the world,
but a broken heart knows better.

A broken heart knows better.

Oh, make believe.

A broken heart knows better.

Oh, make believe.

A broken heart knows better.

Great, Mr. Albert, great!

Terrific, how about that?

Very good, I liked it.

You got a nice little song.

Oh, thanks, Mr. Albert.

What, does that mean you're going to
publish it and give us a big event?

I'm going to do better than that.

I'm going to give you boys the best advice you ever had.

Why don't you go home?

Go home?

But you just said you liked our song.

I do.

I've liked it for 30 years.

It comes up every once in a while.

Different words, a slightly different beat.

Still a nice little song.

I've published it two or three times myself.

Gee, we thought we had something brand new.

Well, what's the difference?

Wouldn't you like to try publishing it again?

I never heard it before.

Look, we've got plenty of other songs.

Yeah, I'm sure you have.

But every year, thousands of boys and girls
come to New York, and each of them has something.

They come from all over the country.

Songwriters, singers, dancers, actors.

Their eyes full of stars, their young
hearts bursting with joy and ambition,

each one with a dream of glory.

And what happens?

Nothing.

Well, some of them make it.

A few.

They sell one song.

They get in one show.

But they've knocked on a thousand doors.

They've worked harder than ditch diggers.

And for less money.

And the rest?

They go back to Indianapolis or Shemokin.

Or Bryant Park.

Well, what about the ones who make it real big?

You know, like Irving Berlin or Elvis Presley.

They're different.

They're men with a strange and wonderful
talent that cannot be submerged.

They're one in a million.

Are those the kind of odds you want to buck?

Look here.

Success must be built on a firm foundation
of hard work and solid preparation.

Finish your schooling.

Then if you want to write songs, do it for fun.

Believe me, when you're successful lawyers
or engineers, you'll thank me for it.

Well, I guess that's the end of the concert.

You want to go to the health club now?

No.

As long as I'm here, I'll take a walk through the park.

You're going to walk?

You?

Why not?

You ever see a sick squirrel?

Goodbye, boys.

Thanks, Mr. Albert.

Yeah, thanks a lot.

Well, what do we do now, Mike?

I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to go home.

All right, just because one guy turned you
down, what does he know?

So he's got a couple million bucks.

Look at him.

A park Walker.

It made sense, though.

You know, he said just about the same thing that Dad did.

You know, they both could be wrong, couldn't they?

I mean, look at Charlie Turner.

He's no Elvis, and he's been a success for 50 years.

The odds, one in a million.

Well, remember what Bub said.

Charlie Turner knows dozens of publishers.

Well, why should we give up just because
the first one turned us down?

Now, for the first time, he's making sense.

You want to go back to the Justice Club?

Well, Mr. Turner wouldn't be there anyway.

He was just there to pick up his mail.

Mike, we could try the palace.

When we went to the club, that's where the
clerk said he might be.

Okay, Sir Lancelot, we're headed for the palace.

Okay, Parker, one more crack at a man, Buck.

Yeah.

Let's go home.

Yeah.

When was the last time you fellas ate?

We ran out of money in Ashtabula.

What are you a star in?

Well, anyway, you got to meet Charlie Turner.

Didn't I tell you he was tops?

Oh, yeah, great guy, Buck.

One of the biggest men in show business.

Yeah, everybody knows Charlie Turner.

I may call on him myself if I decide to go
back to business.

He introduced us to everybody.

It wasn't his fault we couldn't sell our songs.

I guess they just didn't have what it takes.

Incidentally, Mr. Turner said to be sure
and say hello to you, Skinny.

Skinny?

That's what Charlie called me before I
reached my normal weight.

What a star.

He said you were pretty good, too, Bub.

He was always a great judge of talent.

What's Charlie Turner doing now?

Oh, uh, he's still at the palace.

Yeah, and he's really packing them in, too.

Yeah.

Did you guys get to see the Statue of Liberty?

Sure, we saw it on the way to Brooklyn.

Brooklyn?

Did somebody make the wrong turn?

No, that's where Mr. Fowler lives, the cab driver.

He took us home to dinner.

Oh.

I sure like Brooklyn.

It's a beautiful city.

The meter was off all the way.

I can't picture New York without Mother Riley's.

Where's everybody eating?

Dad, I figured out how much we spent.

Boy, did we waste money.

Well, Rob, I wouldn't say it was entirely wasted.

After all, you saw a little of New York,
you met some interesting people,

and I guess you've gotten over the songwriting bug, huh?

Oh, boy, I sure have.

You know how much grass I'll have to cut
to pay for this trip?

At 75 cents a piece, it comes to 114 lawns.

What an idea for a song.

Yeah, how about, uh, When winter's gone and the
grass comes through, I'd love to mow your lawn for you.

Oh, boy, yeah.

That's the music.

When winter's gone and the grass comes
through, I'd love to mow your lawn for you.