High Society

End of song, beginning of story.

Man, dig that crazy rehearsal hall.

What a powerful pile of rock. I can't go in there.

- Why can't you go in there? - I ain't got my library card.

Dig you.

- Are you the musicians? - That's what the man said.

- What name shall I say? - Tell Dex old Satchelmouth.

Will you please follow me, Mr. Satchelmouth?

Wipe your feet, boys. Something tells me we've got a long walk ahead.

Hey, pops! How's the chops? Good to see you, boy!

Hey, fellas! How's everything?

You've been all over Europe since I saw you.

- Did you go to Sweden? - Yes.

- Skol. - I was the skol- est cat ever.

I bet you were. Here it is, fellas. Just lay it out here.

I never thought you lived in a big house.

Shows what happens when your grandfather's a robber baron.

- You can play football in here. - But can you rehearse?

- Is the chandelier tied tight? - If it swings, put a mute in your horn.

Pardon me. The ladies are waiting in the library.

Vamp a little, will you?

- Okay, Dex. - All right.

Ladies?

- Dexter. - Hello, Ruth.

Thanks for letting the musicians rehearse here.

- Tickled to death. - You saved the festival.

As long as I can save you.

- Hello, Helen. - Save us?

You know you might lose your billing in the blue book?

Jazz is considered very unchic.

Oh, I'm sure we'll love it.

Let us know if we can help.

I will. Thanks a lot for coming by.

- Thank you. - We'll keep in touch.

- You bet. Bye. - Bye.

- Hello? - Hello, Dexter?

- This is Caroline. - Hello, beautiful.

Any time now.

Where's Tracy? I've been yelling for her.

You don't yell, Caroline. You call a person.

You yell if you're in pain.

Well, this wedding gives me a pain.

I think Tracy was awful mean to divorce Dexter.

Can I have this?

Oh, and take those presents over to the other table.

Mother, Tracy's sort of hard, isn't she?

Not hard. None of my children are that, I hope. The goblets too.

Tracy's just exceptionally strong-minded.

And very wonderful always.

I wish something would happen around here.

Nothing definitely ever happens here.

Out of the way, angel. You'll get stepped on.

So far, I've received 24 nut dishes and 16 silver ice picks.

That should give you an idea of what people think of your next husband.

Mother, don't you think Caroline's old enough to go to a good military school?

- What's this? - I haven't the faintest idea.

- It stinks. - Don't say stinks, darling.

If absolutely necessary, "smells," but only if absolutely necessary.

If you put this picture in my wedding presents once more...

...I'm going to personally chain you to your bed.

Why, what is it, dear?

- He was handsome. - Don't talk of him as if he were dead.

Well, he is dead to me.

And if that picture turns up once more, it's going right in the ashcan.

Well, look at this.

- Wow. Jewels. - From Father.

Isn't it pretty?

His girlfriend probably turned it down.

- That's not fair to your father. - How can you defend him?

A common chorus girl.

She's not a chorus girl. She's quite a talented ballet dancer.

Isn't it stinking of Tracy not to invite Father to the wedding?

Yes, Caroline. Just between us, it's good and stinking.

Me too.

Oh, darling, why don't you face facts squarely as I did?

We might face the fact that neither of us has been a great success as a wife.

We both took the only stand a woman could take and keep her self-respect.

- Yes, dear. - The Hammonds.

And now I have my self-respect and no husband.

- Oh, we're both better off. Believe me. - Yes, dear.

- And we're both happier. - Yes, dear.

- Oh, isn't George an angel? - Yes, George is an angel.

- Now, is he handsome, or is he not? - George is handsome.

Golly Moses, I'm a lucky girl.

Tracy, that's your song. Dexter must be home.

Mother, has Dexter come back?

Well, we knew Dexter was giving his house over to this festival.

I suppose he might have come back.

He's back. No one but Dexter would play that song.

That wretched, cheap, vulgar song.

That beautiful, wonderful song he wrote especially for her.

That's gratitude.

He's gonna get nowhere with that kind of music.

Good for the feet, nothing for the heart.

Hello, Sam.

I'd like to talk to you privately.

Well, now, I consider that right neighborly.

You lost a little weight, haven't you, Sam?

Oh, no, you're slipping. That used to scare me.

The withering glance of the goddess.

I just want to know what you are doing here the day before my wedding.

Business. I've become a distinguished composer...

Oh, distinguished.

They needed help here, so I heeded the call of duty.

Don't pretend with me, Dexter.

You deliberately planned this festival to conflict with my wedding.

It's a shabby, vindictive gesture.

Harsh words. Well, let's be honest. I'll admit it. I'm still in love with you.

I don't want you to get married. You can still be a wonderful woman.

- I haven't the same high hopes for you. - I don't wanna be a wonderful woman.

Isn't it enough you almost spoiled my life without spoiling my wedding?

- I didn't try to spoil your life, Sam. - And stop calling me Sam.

I know you didn't try to spoil mine, but you called the shots.

You were dictating the fellow you wanted me to be.

With your background and taste and intelligence...

...you could have become a serious composer, or a diplomat...

...or anything you wanted to be.

And what have you become? A jukebox hero?

Well, is that bad?

Dexter, be satisfied and let me alone.

Go away. Go away and stay away.

I tried to. I even wanted to.

But I guess I'm just a weak character. I'm still in love with you.

Dexter?

Oh, hello, honey.

- I don't think your sister likes me. - I do.

Thanks, sweetie.

What do you suppose she sees in George anyway?

I don't know. Tracy just likes character, I guess.

I don't think George has so much character.

Now, I hate to admit it, but I think she's made a pretty good choice.

I expect some day to see George Kittredge president of Redfern Coal.

That's not hard. Father's president of Redfern Coal.

Let's be fair now, honey.

Takes a lot of character to start at the bottom and work your way up.

If you start at the bottom of a coal mine...

...and worked your way to the top...

...you'd still only be on the ground.

Little one, you've brought up an interesting point.

Why does he always have to walk like he owned the world?

And the way he stiffs the air?

Like he was looking for breakfast.

For a minute there, I thought you were George Kittredge himself.

No, you're Caroline.

Hi.

- Hello, beautiful. - Hello, handsome.

- Did you miss me? - Miserably.

- You happy now? - Ecstatic.

Didn't expect to find you coming from the garden.

Dexter's back. He's turned his house over to those musicians.

Yes, I know. The posters are all over town.

George? You don't really mind him, do you?

Dexter? Well, how do you mean?

Well, I mean, the fact of him.

I still don't understand, dear.

You know, that he was...

Well, my lord and master.

No one has ever been your lord and master.

Until now.

Poor Dexter is the sort of man whose inheritance robbed him of his heritage.

He never earned you, so how could he be expected to appreciate you?

- George, you're so good for me. - I hope so.

Dexter?

Are you ever gonna get married again?

Sure I am. But I'm waiting for you to grow up.

- Dexter, for you I'll hurry. - Yes, you're gonna have to.

I wouldn't have acted the way Tracy did when you published your song about her.

- I wish you'd write a song about me. - Would you like that? Really?

Well, we ought to be able to whip something up here.

Dexter, that was beautiful. I consider us engaged.

Right song, but the wrong girl.

Hello? Oh, hello, Willie, I'm glad you called.

Cousin Martha just phoned. She wants me to give you lunch.

She wants you out of the house.

Well, where are you?

I'm in the office of the editor of SPY magazine.

No, no, no. Spy. It rhymes with lie.

Right. Now, he wants to send a couple of reporters up to cover Tracy's wedding.

Now, don't explode, my dear.

I have just read an article right here on the editor's desk...

...about your husband and that dancer.

You know.

But it's blackmail. Beside, Tracy would never allow it.

Now, if you will allow a reporter and a photographer...

...into your home to cover Tracy's wedding...

...I have the editor's word as a gentleman...

...that he will withhold the article on your husband.

All right, Willie, I suppose we have no choice.

Tracy'll hit the ceiling.

Goodbye.

Mother!

George came early. I'll tell Edward to set another place for lunch.

- I'm pooped. - No, dear, you're enervated.

I'm pooped too.

There is one thing I want understood right now.

No member of my family is to invite Dexter-Haven into this house...

...until after I am married and gone.

I will not have my wedding spoiled by intruders.

- Tracy. - Yes?

I'm afraid we'll have to endure a couple of intruders.