Words and Music

You've just heard some words and music written by Rodgers and Hart.

This is the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer sound stage number one.

In this film, Mickey Rooney will portray Larry Hart,

or Lorenz Hart, as the song sheets read,

and I am Richard Rodgers.

If in telling you about Larry I talk quite a bit about myself,

it's because there hasn't been a day in my life

that didn't have something to do with Larry Hart.

I'm almost sorry to say

there were none of the standard trials and tribulations you'd ordinarily expect.

In fact, we were just two lucky fellows who had success very young.

From a dramatic standpoint,

we didn't even have the advantage of being very poor.

We weren't very rich, either.

When I first met Larry,

he had already acquired quite a reputation at Columbia University as a poet and wit,

and I was a little scared.

Anyhow, one day Herb Fields, a mutual friend of ours

who later wrote the books for some of our shows,

arranged a meeting.

- Is this it? - Yep.

Maybe we ought to come back some other time.

- Oh, relax, will you? - Yeah. But you think...

Look, you wanna do a show with him, don't you?

- Oh sure, sure. - All right, then.

Meet him, play a couple of songs and you're in.

- Hi, Herb. - Hi, Larry.

- Come on in. - Thanks.

Larry, I'd like to have you meet Dick Rodgers.

You know, the fellow I was telling you about.

Oh, hiya, Dick.

Heard a lot about you. You're the fellow who writes music, eh?

- Well, I... - Come on in. Make yourself at home.

You hungry? Want something to eat? How about some nuts?

- Oh, no. Thanks. - Apples? Oranges?

- How about a piece of coffee cake? - No...

Corned beef sandwich? I'll send out, get a corned beef sandwich.

- No, thanks very much, anyway. - Smoke? Cigar?

- Light ones? Dark ones? - I never use them.

How about you, Herb? That's right. You don't smoke, do you?

Go ahead.

Play something.

Go ahead.

Hey, hey, Herb, I got a new rhyme for you. What rhymes with Coolidge?

- Coolidge? - Yeah.

- Nothing rhymes with Coolidge. - You wanna bet?

- Coolidge? - Sure, say it over to yourself.

Coolidge, Coolidge, Coolidge. Come on, quick.

Oh, I'm ashamed of you.

When you speak of Coolidge, he deserves a eulogy.

Coolidge he, eulogy.

Hey, that's very good, Larry.

That's all.

Herb, did you read this article yet?

- No, I didn't. - It's not bad at all.

Operator, give me Trafalgar 4599, please.

Hello, Jack? This is Larry Hart. Have you got that book of Heine's in yet?

No, no, no. Not the translation. That was the later edition.

Yeah, will you look around please?

Hey, that's not bad at all.

Hello? You have? Jack, you're a doll.

Yeah, yeah, right away. Yeah.

What does he do now? Shoot himself out of a cannon?

Say, that's a pretty elaborate musical phrase, isn't it?

- Well, it's a... - Not that it bothers me, you understand.

I gotta go pick up a book. I'll talk to you later, Herb.

Go ahead. Keep playing.

He liked it.

Oh, sure, I could tell he liked it. He did everything but card tricks.

- Now, Dick... - No, brother, I've seen everything.

Here I sit at this piano, and this nutcracker...

But, Dick, he's always like that.

- Mrs. Hart. How are you? - Hello, Herb.

Well, introduce me to this nice young man.

- This is Dick Rodgers. - I'm very happy to meet you, Mrs. Hart.

- That was you playing the songs? - Yes.

- You wrote them? - Well, sure. He's a real composer.

Isn't that nice?

You know something?

I like your songs and your playing, very much.

Well, thank you, Mrs. Hart.

Here, what am I standing here for? Have a bite.

For quite a while, I didn't hear from Larry and it began to look as though

neither my tunes nor I had scored much of a hit with Mr. Hart.

I stuck with it.

But, believe me, a tune without a lyric is a mighty lonesome thing.

Hello.

Oh, hello, Herb.

Yeah?

- What? - Yeah, yeah, you heard me.

- He's crazy about the songs. - Yeah, he's crazy all right.

No, no, not just crazy. He's crazy about the music.

I haven't heard from him in two weeks.

- He wrote a lyric. - A lyric?

A lyric. You know, words.

Be there at 5:30 sharp. And don't be late, please.

Okay, fine. Goodbye.

5:30 came, 5:30 went.

And I got my first introduction

to something I soon learned I could count on,

the business of waiting for Larry.

- Now don't worry. He'll be here. - So he's crazy about it, huh?

I tell you, the guy called me and he was jumping through the telephone.

Hi, Herb.

Morn! Morn! Mary!

Herb, have you seen the September issue of Vanity Fair?

- The what? - No, I can tell you haven't seen it.

- What is it, dear? - Mom, have you seen

the September issue of Vanity Fair?

- No, I haven't. - Mary, what have you done with it?

You know I don't read that stuff, Mr. Larry.

Can we find it, please? Can we find it?

It's getting so you can't find anything in this house anymore.

- Hi, Dick. - Hi, Larry.

Play that first thing for me, will you?

- What thing? - You know.

- Hey, I got a new rhyme for you. - Yeah?

Yeah, what rhymes with tapestry?

- Tapestry? - Half-past three. Please.

I found it in your room, Mr. Larry.

Oh, good. Boy, you're wonderful. You're a doll.

- Listen, get me something to eat, will you? - It's near suppertime.

There's some knockwurst and salami in the packages there.

Cut some up, please.

Here we are. Here we are.

That's it. There you are.

Manhattan.

- You like Manhattan? - Manhattan? Yeah, yeah, I like Manhattan.

Manhattan.

We've got Manhattan

The Bronx and Staten Island, too

It's lovely going through the zoo

You know the rest. Go ahead. Play it, Dick.

Summer journeys to Niagara

And to other places aggravate all our cares

We'll save our fares

I've a cozy little flat in what is known as old Manhattan

We'll settle down

Right here in town

We'll have Manhattan

The Bronx and Staten Island, too

It's lovely going through the zoo

It's very fancy on old Delancey Street, you know

The subway charms us so

When balmy breezes blow to and fro

And tell me what street compares with Matt Street in July

Sweet pushcarts gently gliding by

The great big city's a wondrous toy

Just made for a girl and boy

We'll turn Manhattan

Into an isle of joy

I'd like to take a sail on Jamaica Bay with you

And fair Canarsie's lakes we'll view

The city's clamor can never spoil

The dreams of a boy and girl

We'll turn Manhattan

Into an isle of joy

Well, it's nice, but a bit off the beaten track. I'm sorry.

But when you're riding the crest of youth,

you don't get easily upset, even by turndowns.

Larry, in particular, was tireless, and his enthusiasm was boundless.

This kind of netter-sireiter writing, singing, demonstrating went on for two years.

But nothing happened.

They all thought the songs were fresh, different, engaging,

but nobody bought them.

And after a while, this gets monotonous.

After two years, it can get desperate.

Finally, when I felt I couldn't take it any longer,

I had a talk with my father.

Can I help, Richard?

What would you say if I told you I were giving up being a composer?

I'd say all right, if I could think of a good reason,

but just offhand I can't think of one.

Well, I'll give you one. Nothing happens.

Two years, almost three and I'm nowhere.

- Where do you want to be? - What's the sense of kidding, Pop?

You've been carrying the freight too long.

College, Academy of Music, and now this.

Months and months of knocking our brains out.

Nobody cares.

I think you've written many good things.

Sure, and they can't even get me a cup of coffee.

Well, Richard, the coffee will come.

Maybe you have to boil it a little more.

- No, it's no good. I'm going into business. - Business? Doing what?

Selling infants' wear.

How did you happen to select this vocation?

Well, a friend of mine offered me $50 a week to start.

Well!

I never knew you were so interested in getting $50 a week.

- Do you need $50? - What I need is self-respect.

Well, you sound desperate.

Gee, Pop. It's not only living off you.

But I'm getting so I'm envious of everyone.

A counterman, a taxi driver, a shoe shiner.

Anybody who can earn anything.

Richard, I went through four years of college,

two years of med school, interned for two more years.

And just about that time,

I was in the same place as any kid leaving grammar school,