Rhapsody in Blue Page #3

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Waiting for me,

praying for me

Down by the Swanee

The folks up north

will see me no more

When I go-

You can go. Didn't I tell

you to lay off your own songs?

But, Mr. Kast-

Don't give me any excuses. I've had

just about enough of you, Gershwin.

And I'm tired of playing the

same old songs day in and day out.

Oh, you are?!

Yeah.

From now on, you won't have

to play them. You're fired!

Get out, and don't let me find

you around here when I get back.

A lot he knows

about music.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm

afraid it was my fault.

It was nothing.

It was bound to come.

He doesn't appreciate me

or my music, either.

Now you're

out of a job.

Oh, don't worry

about me.

I come from a family that's

moved 16 times in 10 years.

I'm used to changes.

Anyway, I'm sorry,

and I loved your song.

Thanks.

Well, bye.

Uh, good-Bye,

Miss, uh...

Oh, my name is

Julie Adams,

And I live

at the Studio Art Club.

My name is George Gershwin,

and I live in the Bronx.

Here-since

this is the last day.

Thank you.

Well, good-bye.

Good-bye.

Wait a minute!

Here. It's

on the house.

Why, thank you,

Mr. Gershwin.

That's all right.

Well, good-bye.

Good-bye,

Miss Adams.

Mr. Kast, please.

Gershwin,

didn't I tell you I-

Mr. Kast, I thought you'd

like to hear it just once more.

Swanee

How I love you,

how I love you

Da da da, da da

Now, Morris, what kind

of a career is music?

For pleasure, yes.

For business, no.

Such a habit

- Always ripping seams.

It happens,

it happens.

What are you inventing

so much?

Who's inventing?

I'm fixing.

Momma, don't discourage

George right now.

For weeks, he's been

pounding the pavements.

He's made some

good contacts.

Contacts!

Listen, Rose, every man

can't be Andrew Carnegie.

Musicians

the world needs, too.

Whose idea was

the piano?

But George will need

to make a living.

Give him time. When

he learns music better,

He'll get good jobs.

Such a mechanism.

Professor Franck says he's

almost ready to study in Europe.

Who's going to send him to

Europe-you, Ira? Your father, maybe?

Now, Morris,

you listen to me.

Talk to George. Tell him he should

be learning a dependable business.

Look, Ira. At last

I've got it down in ink.

George.

Rose.

Shh. George, I think your

father wants to talk to you.

What's up?

What is it, Poppa?

Uh, Georgie,

sit down, sit down.

Such a mechanism.

It's all mixed up.

What's the matter?

Uh, I don't just know

how to say it.

About getting

a job.

Well, something like that.

You see, Georgie,

Your mother thinks

you ought to have

Some kind of regular work-that

is, besides your music.

But, Poppa, if he quits his music now,

He might never get

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