The Eddy Duchin Story

Paper! Paper!

Lucky Lindy makes it!

Extry! Read all about it.

Officer, excuse me. Could you tell me

how I get to the Central Park Casino?

You can't miss it.

It's just behind the mall.

- Thank you.

- And only with two ham sandwiches.

Lucky! Lucky!

Read all about it.

Lucky Lindy makes it!

Ain't she sweet

See her walkin'down the street

Now I ask you very confidentially

Ain't she sweet

Ain't she nice

Look her over once or twice

Now I ask you very confidentially

Ain't she nice

Just cast an eye in her direction

Oh, me, oh, my

Ain't that perfection

I repeat

Don't you think that's kind of neat

Now, I ask you very confidentially

Good afternoon, Miss Oelrichs.

I'll just be a few minutes.

Say, this must belong to

somebody important, huh?

I rode in one once.

A fella I knew up in college

in Boston had an uncle.

Of course, it wasn't in

quite as good shape as this.

It had two or three

bullet holes in it.

He bought it from

a bootlegger's widow.

They're good cars, though, aren't they?

Excuse me.

A gold key.

What's it for?

What's a key for?

Opens a door, doesn't it?

Philip. Philip, will you come

in here a moment, please?

Eduard.

Puts me between Colonel Rutherford

and Prince Kaminsky...

the two greatest bores in New York.

Philip, I think that we'll exile

the prince to the end of the table.

- Yes, Miss Oelrichs.

- Just put the flowers-

- Yes, what is it?

- I was looking for Mr. Leo Reisman.

- I'm going to be in his orchestra.

- Back of the bandstand.

- Thank you very much.

- Next time, use the musicians' entrance.

Right, the musician's entrance.

I'll find it. Thank you.

Mr. Reisman's office?

Mr. Reisman?

Oh, thank you.

- Something?

- Hello, Mr. Sherwood.

- Hello.

- Oh, Mr. Reisman.

- Yeah?

- Remember me? Eddy Duchin.

I remember you.

The Berkshires, that resort.

You remember, Leo. Last summer?

We were lost. It was raining.

- Berkshires?

- Oh, yes, of course. Sure. Come in.

Gee, you had me scared for a minute.

I thought maybe you had-

No. I remember you.

You lent me your raincoat.

- I almost forgot to give it back to you.

- I played the piano.

- That's right. A lot of piano.

- Yes, Philip.

That was some orchestra

you were hooked up with.

Nobody's got a right to be that bad,

not even for money.

They were just a group of college kids

picking up money for school.

- They weren't professionals.

- What are you doing here?

Empty the pockets, will you, Lou?

- Huh?

- In New York.

- I came down from Boston when-

- Jimmy Walker's coming in tonight.

- Great. Swell.

- The mayor?

This is his favorite spot.

You don't know the casino, do you?

It's the playground

of high society.

This was given to Mr. Reisman

by Mrs. Vanderbilt.

He played at her daughter's

coming-out party.

- Yes, I know-

- Money clip was given to Mr. Reisman-

Stop sounding like an auctioneer.

You'll make Duchin want to quit college

and be a musician.

- That's exactly what I-

- What school do you go to?

Well, I graduated, remember?

I told you.

The Massachusetts School

of Pharmacy.

Oh, yeah. Sure, sure.

I remember.

So you're gonna be a druggist.

Here in New York?

A lot of money in drugstores

if you can make a good hot fudge sundae.

I'm not going to be a druggist.

I've decided to take advantage

of Mr. Reisman's offer instead.

- My offer?

- Sure. To play the piano with your band.

That's why I'm here.

I didn't offer you a job.

- What?

- I didn't offer you a job.

I remember saying I liked

the way you play the piano...

but I certainly didn't

offer you a job.

Yeah, but you said a lot

of other things too.

- You told me to come to New York.

- No, no, no.

What Mr. Reisman said was, if you got

to New York, stop by and say hello.

He also told me I had the most

distinctive style he'd heard in years.

I've got a piano player.

I've had him for years.

But I'm here.

I can't go back.

Why not?

No. I- I can't go home.

It was tough enough to leave.

They didn't want you to go?

Mr. Reisman, when a man owns

a small tailor shop...

and presses pants for a living

and works like a dog...

so that his son can have

an education and get ahead...

it isn't easy

to give up the dream.

It wasn't their idea that I should

live the crazy life of a musician...

but I should stay at home

and become a druggist...

and a respected member

of the community.

- There's nothing the matter with that.

- But it isn't what I want.

No, I can't go back.

I've made the break.

Eddy, maybe your father was right.

You keep in touch. Now, be sure.

I'm sorry, Eddy.

Good-bye and good luck.

He wishes us good luck.

He can play. He's got a very

distinctive personal style.

He won't get lost.

I like it.

What is it? Chopin?

- Yes.

- Which one?

" E-flat. "

Please play it again.

I didn't think that Mr. Reisman

went in for rude musicians.

- I'm not with Reisman.

- But I heard you say before-

I'm not with Mr. Reisman at all.

There was no job to get.

I only dreamed of working here.

A crazy dream...

of driving back home

in a red Stutz Bearcat...

walking into the house and throwing

down a bankroll as big as the Ritz...

and saying, " No more work, Pop.

I'm rich. I'm famous. "

- Where do you come from?

- Boston.

I'm gonna knock this town

on its ear once I get started.

I don't mean only New York.

You don't believe me, do you?

Of course I believe you.

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