Cafe Society

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When the sun starts to dip

on the Hollywood hills,

the light often takes on the saturated

loveliness of color by Technicolor.

The homes of the movie stars,

in the late 1930's,

said to be fabulous, were.

An the cocktail and dinner gatherings,

saw the film colony's creme de la creme

draining high balls, exchanging rumors,

making deals and trading gossip.

No 'A' list affair was complete

without the presence of Phil Stern,

one of the town's most high powered agents,

and his lovely wife, Karen.

Brilliant and dynamic,

Stern could invariably be found holding court.

I saw Paul Muni on stage in New York

and I was the first one to determine

that he could do films.

I have...I pegged it. I saw him...

long before anyone else knew

that he would be a film actor.

And you had the idea?

I knew that he would make the transition.

What...what was his quality?

Watch...watch the spilling, please.

It's a good party, Phil,

what can I tell ya!

Excuse me.

Yes?

Telephone call, Mr.Stern.

Oh! For me?

I gotta take this.

I'm expecting a call from Ginger Rogers.

I told her that I could be reached here.

She is not happy with her

representation, so who knows?

Charmed luck!

Phil Stern, here.

Phil, it's Rose.

Rose?

Your sister.

How did you find me here?

Your housekeeper gave me the number.

What's wrong?

Bobby quit, Marty's jewelry business.

And he's coming to Hollywood.

I was hoping that you could find

something for him in your agency.

Who?

Bobby.

My son.

Your nephew.

Phil?

We're talking to Warner Brothers the next summer,

if they wind up the rights for the book.

And, Bette Davis would be perfect.

When we get the rights

to the book, we'll talk.

But Phil, until that happens...try not to

write the deal like lighting a wet match.

OK, let me just get off this call.

Get off the phone, we'll sit down.

Uh, huh...hello? Huh?

Hmm, yes?

And he doesn't know a soul out there.

So what the hell is he

comin' out here for?

I mean, I don't know

what I can do for him,

meanwhile, this call is

costing you a fortune.

Look,

I...I gotta go.

Ginger Rogers is trying

to get in touch with me.

Two weeks later,

a cab from the train station

pulled up in Hollywood

at the Ali Baba Motel.

And emerging from it, was a young man

hoping to make a life for himself.

This was Robert Jacob Dorfman.

Bobby Dorfman, from the Bronx,

away from home for the first time.

The son of the poor jeweler, Marty Dorfman,

and his beleaguered wife, Rose.

His parents bickered on all subjects.

Particularly Phil Stern.

He is not a Jewish man.

And what are you?

You are no example.

You don't pray. You don't fast.

And you don't have

a traditional Jewish head.

You're stupid!

Then there was the middle sister,

Evelyn, the school teacher,

married to Leonard, the intellectual,

the professor, the Communist.

Religion is the opium of the people.

A ponderer of big questions.

A mensch.

A match made in heaven for Evelyn.

Finally, there was the

eldest brother, Ben.

Simply put, Ben was a gangster.

Bobby loved his brother

and chose to see Ben's lively-hood

as the restaurant's supply business.

But while Ben serviced

bars and nightclubs,

there was a darker

aspect to his life.

And so, on a sun drenched

day on Wilshire Boulevard,

Bobby Dorfman approaches the

office of his Uncle Phil Stern.

Hmm, Hi, I'm here to see Phil Stern.

You have an appointment?

I do.

I'm..ah, Bobby Dorfman, his nephew.

He is actually in a conference at the moment.

Why don't you have a seat.

Of course!

Mr.Dorfman?

Oh, yes?

Mr.Stern will not be available today.

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