Strike Up the Band

James Connors,

you are not Cab Calloway.

We are trying to play

"The National Emblem."

Not "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

Yes, ma'am.

Well, I guess that's all we can do

for tonight.

I think you'd better go home.

Rehearsal's dismissed.

Turn your music in to Willie.

Willie. Here, Willie.

You know, Jimmy, I'm getting to hate

these rehearsals. The same thing...

...every time.

- Yeah.

Would you like to stick around

and play records?

I'd like to, but last time we did,

I didn't get home until 12.

My dad was pretty burned up.

We could knock out a couple

and get home early.

- That's what you said last time.

- We were just practicing.

But my folks think

I practice better at home.

Anyway, Annie's waiting for me.

- Oh, you're dead.

- Yeah. Good night.

Booper, like to try

a little classical swing?

Can't do it. My family's out of sympathy

with these night sessions you been having.

- See you tomorrow, Jimmy.

- So long, Boop.

Is that you, Jimmy?

Yes, Mom.

What time is it, dear?

Gosh, Mom, I don't know.

It must be close to 11.

Good night, son.

Good night, Mom.

- How was I doing?

- Swell.

Say, I'm glad you're here, Mary.

I wanna talk to you.

- Okay.

- Well...

You know, I don't go around

steaming people up.

Oh, no, of course not.

Remember once I told you that someday

we might have our own dance orchestra?

- Yes.

- Well, the dog is barking.

- What do you mean?

- I've been thinking it over in my mind.

A fellow doesn't wanna play

with a broken-down brass band anymore.

You know, the same:

He gets tired of that.

Instead of the school having a band

play a concert once a year...

...why, we could have our own

great modern dance orchestra.

We've got everything right here.

We've got the brass, the piano,

the reeds and you and...

- Me?

- Sure. You could handle all the vocals.

Oh, that sounds wonderful, Jimmy.

It is. We could make

our own arrangements...

...and specialties

and play for all the dances.

We could put Riverwood High School

on the map.

Now, all we gotta do

is to get the school behind us.

Do you think we could sell the idea

to Mr. Judd?

- Mr. Judd, the principal?

- Yeah.

I thought the last time you saw him...

Well, I don't think

he'd hold my past against me.

This is something big.

Will you go down to see him with me?

- Maybe tonight?

- Sure, I'll go.

- It's a date.

- All right.

- Be right there, Jimmy.

- All right, Mary.

I won't be gone long.

- Hello.

- Hello, Mrs. Holden.

I told mother about the band.

She thinks it's wonderful.

- You do?

- Of course. I think it's splendid.

Doesn't your mother think so too?

Yes, ma'am. She thinks it's great.

Well, I guess we'd better be going.

Good night, Mother.

Good night, Mrs. Holden.

- Good luck with Mr. Judd.

- Thanks.

That was a fib,

what you said about your mother.

- Yeah.

- Why'd you say it?

- I don't know.

- You didn't even tell your mother.

- No.

- Why?

Well, I guess I'm afraid to.

Afraid to tell your mother?

Mary, it isn't as easy as you think.

It's not just telling her that we're gonna

have a band, lot of fun, lot of laughs.

You see, I've gotta tell her...

I've gotta tell her that this is it, music.

It's my future. It's the thing I want most.

- Maybe she'd understand.

- No, I don't think she would.

She wants me to be a doctor like Dad.

But, Mary, look at me.

Do I look like a doctor?

- No, I guess you don't.

- No, of course I don't.

But ever since I can remember,

she's always talked to me about it.

Well, I've agreed with her because it...

I saw that it made her happy.

But now I can't even do that.

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