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John Stark: That man walking down those stairs...

he's a great American artist,

brilliant musician and composer.

But no one knows it.

Funny where talent comes from.

I've been dealing with talent all my life,

and I still don't understand it.

Course, everybody in his family played music...

brothers, sisters, father on the violin,

and his mother on the banjo.

His mother used to wash clothes to get Scott piano lessons

from a German piano teacher in their town.

She always encouraged him.

But when she died...

well, there wasn't any money left for piano lessons.

And his father, he believed music was just a home and church thing.

There'd be no talk about playing the piano for a living.

If the boy was gonna get somewhere,

he'd go to work with pick and shovel on the railroad.

That's what his father did.

That's what his brother did.

That's what he would've done.

But Scott had music in his soul,

and the railroad just wasn't for him.

So he left home.

The odds were he'd end up some piano player

in a second-rate whorehouse.

We used to call those piano players

"professors."

I guess they got their degrees in life.

And that's the life Scott wanted.

At least, at first.

So he began his career playing for the clientele

of the world's oldest libertine institution...

the bordello.

Y'all don't want nothing good, huh?

Light skin ain't gonna make it no sweeter.

Better come.

Black Jack's free for you, honey.

Hey, how about a big last night, professor?

You passin' out favors, Amy?

I'll stake ya.

Make it a drink.

Pickin' up and moving' on, eh?

Scott Joplin: The new boy's all right.

Amy: If he don't stew up the girls.

Seven dollars for the week, you said.

I'll make it ten if you stay.

I'll be gone by morning.

None of these cats give a damn

about a fella's business anymore.

Mornin'.

Mornin' already?

Nobody up but me.

Ooh, they sure know how to keep a guy doing that.

Well, they got to.

Well, I let 'em.

Just leavin'.

Where are you goin'?

Sedalia.

Anything's better than here.

In fact, where is here?

You, uh, you read that stuff?

I write it.

Write it?

What you wanna do that for?

To be heard.

Well, I heard it.

Why you mess around with that note music for?

You the only one can read it!

My ears tell me everything.

What's in Sedalia?

You can read this, can't you?

I read numbers... a hundred.

Hmm...

You don't just walk in off the street and beat these boys.

These are top professors.

There's a publisher there.

Word's out he's looking for music.

You usin' this for an audition?

That's it.

You don't mind if a fella goes along

and tries to win this thing, do ya?

I try to win it.

Two got better odds than one.

Fifty-fifty.

Louis Chauvin.

Scott Joplin.

Woman: Sounds good.

It's flat.

Flat?

Flat.

If what you mean...

It's what I mean.

I don't believe I've ever seen you before.

No, sir, you have not.

- What's your name? - Scott Joplin.

Never heard of Scott Joplin.

Where you from?

Texarkana.

That's a pretty poor place to learn.

I learned A flat.

I've been tuning pianos much of my life, sir.

My ear is trusted as expert

by professors up and down the river,

many of whom will be competing tonight on these pianos,

tuned and perfectly so.

Well, I am going to be playing here tonight.

And I don't mind a little bump every now and then,

but I do mind a flat, A flat.

You're an entertainer?

And a composer.

You're published?

I will be.

Will you be? Really?

When will that happen?

When I am heard.

The man to be heard by in Sedalia is John Stark.

Then I will be heard by John Stark.

Best of luck, Mr. Joplin.

Man: One, two! A one, two, three, four!

I'm playing a cakewalk, man!

Who in the world is you?

I'm what you call "it," man!

That's what I'm known for.

Do you hear me talkin' to ya?

Don't you let anybody tell you

that nobody can play as good as me!

Do you see that fly crawlin' up the wall?

She goin' up there to get her ashes hauled.

I can dance the cakewalk, man, while playin' piano.

Keep on playin', man! Playin', man!

Don't nobody play like me!

Get up. Get up!

Man: Left hand of god.

Woman: Left hand of god?

Yeah, he play better than most people with two hands.

That encourages me greatly, man!

Keep on playin' for these people!

I'm gonna do something over here myself!

He play with one hand, I play with one hand.

But you better watch out, 'cause here come the other one!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

You two fellas are last.

And you, you're first.

Can you play Poet and Peasant Overture?

What's the man gonna think, comes in, slaps a twenty on the box, says "play it"?

I'm gonna tell him I can't?

You mess it up,

and in ten seconds, I'm cuttin' you out.

You hear that?

I can play the hell out of it.

Play it in A flat.

That'll do.

Out!

Right there.

Man: Hey, what key you in?

What key you in?

What you doin' on them keys?

You tryin' to beat me?

Get on. Get up!

(Switches to Maple Leaf Rag

Man: Hey, that's some new music!

That's a good song. That's a good song!

Man: That's what I like to hear! Yeah!

Woman: I like that!

Who's heard that music, sir?

Uh, no one.

No one? No one at all?

No, sir.

I want it in my office at 9:00 tomorrow morning.

That's 50 cents. You said a dime.

Keep it.

Thank you!

Stark: Who's that ringing the bell?

Enjoy yourself last night?

That was your music, wasn't it?

It is, sir.

I remember the primary theme.

It's that inner syncopation.

Not a minstrel... freer.

Vital, but disciplined.

Good thing, discipline.

Necessary for any artist.

Now, your music... you can play it,

you can dance to it, you can listen to it.

Can you write it? Can you put it down on paper?

Most you people can't.

You can improvise, but you can't put it down.

Oh, I can write it.

Where'd you learn to do that?

College.

Got a name for it?

The George Smith college.

No, no, no, I meant the song.

Oh. Maple Leaf Rag.

Maple leaf.

That's good... Maybe.

Local color.

We'll try 500 copies.

Now, don't indulge in over-dazzling visions of ease and splendor.

Musical compositions do not shed bank notes like feathers.

- Come in. - Thank you.

I'll give you 50 dollars for publication rights,

worldwide...

In perpetuity.

Perpetuity. That means...

I know what it means.

Ten percent royalty on each sheet sale.

You demonstrate.

Any vital questions arising?

Demonstrate?

Selling songs is like farming, Mr. Joplin.

It takes seed, manure, grain to get a crop.

Lots of manure... gotta spread it around.

I'm gonna put you at a piano in front of that big window.

They're gonna hear that song every minute of the day.

Now, when do I see that music?

Tree, fo', this afternoon.

Tree, fo'. That mean...

I know what it means.

What's the matter, boy?

Why you standin' so quiet?

Man: What'd he say?

Says he'd buy it.

Money all over the damn piano!

What's wrong with you, boy?

You're sure as cold as hell.

What's he payin' ya?

Fifty.

Fifty?

Stray cats get better than 50!

Fifty's free!

Fifty. Just fifty?

He says there's gonna be royalties.

Says I demonstrate.

What's a royalty?

An investment in the proceeds, boy.

He proceeds, you invest.

Mick's gonna play you for a sucker, boy.

Now, wait. Now, wait.

We ain't talkin' 'bout just any boy.

We talkin' 'bout boy here!

Boy on his way... gonna be a famous black composer

like all them other famous black composers.

Now, now, who is it... what's their name?

Uh, and there was this other shine.

What you know?

Ain't no black composer 'cept boy here...

gonna be the first 'cept there ain't no first.

Ain't no black first anything.

How much money you got?

I got about 20 cents.

I got me a dime.

Let's hunt up a saloon where we can find our self a meal.

Don't let that Mick make no fool of you!

I know you comin'.

Listen, I... I got a cousin in St. Louis.

We'll look him up passin' through.

It's... that's it, that's better.

Hey, what's the matter?

What you dreamin' about?

Come on! We got it, we got the stake...

a hundred bucks!

We done everything we wanted to do.

It's movin' time...

grab a train, head for the river.

We not poor Johns anymore, we top professors.

Next stop... New Orleans.

You're throwin' it away.

You stay, you crazy.

I know a few things.

I'm buyin' tickets.

You won't get another chance like it in a lifetime.

I've never been had.

Here I is.

Gotta get a pair of overalls.

I'll work it out.

Ain't gotta run off... no talk about that...

'cause I'm a good workin' nigger.

Oh, to be a black piano player in a brothel

in the United States of America.

Who could have a care playing for pimps,

prostitutes, and alcoholics?

Man's only in this world once.

If he doesn't die of whiskey or syphilis before he's 40.

Nothing' but money comes in these places.

They just as soon tip you a five-dollar bill as a dollar

if they're in the mood and the music was good.

I concluded you wanted to be a composer.

For 50 dollars and dimes?

I was wrong in my conclusion.

Good professor knock that down in three nights.

I've never known any pianist to come from any section of this world

who could leave victorious.

Come with you and that happens?

Come with me and you will play for people who will not hear you,

some who will smirk or hold their ears.

Or even worse, ignore you completely.

If you've experienced it, you know what I'm talking about.

It's akin to a kick in an open wound.

The option? Withdraw from the process.

Retreat. Do not compete.

You don't want any of this.

You want a chance to be heard.

But you want guarantees against failure,

immunity against being ignored.

I can't give you that.

Immunity...

It means stay where you are, Mr. Joplin.

I got 'em.

Don't stop now. That... that's the part I wanna know about.

It's for the snails.

Snails? Beer?

They go for the beer instead of the flowers.

It kills them.

Who taught you that?

He did.

Your father?

My husband.

"Beloved husband of Belle."

Well, you have to be going.

Well, uh, yes, yes.

Don't you?

Uh, no.

Well, which is it?

Well, this is my day off.

Surely you have plans.

Plans?

Entertainment.

On your day off.

Oh, yeah, well, I... I usually, uh,

partake of, uh, some cultural activity about town.

Well, not really cultural.

Something you'd rather do alone.

Not really.

Go ahead, show these people, boy!

That'd encourage me greatly.

Professor Joplin!

Checkered vest and gray derby.

You really enjoy that life, don't you?

When I was a boy, I used to steal my pappy's long pants

and go down to the tenderloin and listen to piano players

come down from New Orleans,

talking about zulu balls,

baby dolls, and king champagne,

smokin' cigars and flingin' money through the air.

That's not my life.

Nor mine, either.

Not anymore.

It's all behind me.

John is moving his publishing company to St. Louis.

I decided to go there, too.

Have you... have you ever been to St. Louis?

Once.

Like it?

Yeah.

Maybe you can, uh, come and visit sometime.

Maybe.

I don't wanna go without you. Come with me.

As what?

My wife.

Marry me, Belle.

Stark: Rabin!

Yes, sir.

- Clear that space. - Yes, sir.

Rabin, you are seeing the result of years of effort.

Yes, sir.

We must work for what we want in this world.

If it comes too easy, we value it less.

Nothing can damage the soul as much.

Very well expressed.

- Good day, sir. - Samuel bundler.

Art and music critic, St. Louis post dispatch.

Music critic?

What can I do for you, sir?

Well, I'd like to interview your Mr. Joplin.

My Mr. Joplin?

Easy, fellas, easy.

Uh, where do I find Mr. Joplin?

He's at home.

Happily married, soon to be a father.

Busy teaching and composing.

Hmm, well, uh, you're here.

Well, the... the thing to write about Mr. Joplin,

I would say, is that he longs for serious work.

His composition is superb by any standard.

It contains the genius of a Chopin nocturne or a Bach fugue.

Uh, that wasn't quite the approach I had in mind, Mr. Stark.

Not quite the tack.

What did you have in mind, Mr. Bundler?

Well, commercialization of a fad,

the money to be made off it,

how to pull the wool over the public's eyes.

That sort of thing.

We're not here for that sort of thing, Mr. Bundler.

Oh, no? Well, you tell me.

I'll write it down just the way you say it.

Have you not heard, Mr. Bungler,

that my Mr. Joplin is called "The King of Ragtime"?

Have you heard the American Federation of Musicians

have outlawed his type of music?

Which thousands clamor to learn.

"Exalting noise," they call it.

"Street vulgarity."

"Obvious, common... like a criminal novel."

"A passing fad."

The envious and the deaf,

who refuse to pull the cotton from their ears.

As for Mr. Joplin, I should say that his temperament is high,

that he touches the ground on the highest places,

that his geese are all swans,

that Mississippi water tastes like honeydew.

Good day, Mr. Bundler.

Good luck in St. Louis, Mr. Stark.

Rabin, if you can't play it right, don't play it at all.

Yes, sir.

Seriously, I'm a little baffled by your case.

How do you feel?

Back to normal again?

Things aren't always what they seem.

You appeared to be over the disease when you married.

You weren't.

Sometimes the first signs of syphilis are hard to know.

You're now in what is called a secondary stage.

There are no outward signs.

Primary attack of the nervous system,

occasional loss of control of your hands, for example.

That can pass.

It can also return.

The tertiary stage of the disease attacks the nervous system.

When, I don't know.

Could be in five years, in twenty-five years,

or maybe never.

Each case is different, you see.

Are you continuing to have relations with your wife?

Good. I would not.

You've been extremely lucky not to have infected her.

You're not telling me something.

There's to be a child.

I don't know, Mr. Joplin.

It could affect the child, and then again, it might not.

I just don't know.

Louis: Mrs. Joplin, is Scott home?

Belle: Yes.

Well, I'm just gonna stand here until you say something.

Turn my back six months, boy grows up.

Professor Chauvin.

- How are you? - Good.

Well, I'm lookin' at ya,

and I'm telling you the truth,

I've never seen such a dull-looking man.

Uh, introduce your friends.

Ain't they something?

Miss viola. Ruby.

I'm gonna buy 'em their own corner.

Belle, uh, will you ask the ladies what they want to drink

and pour the professor a glass of gin, please?

Thank you.

Ladies.

I've heard a lot about you. I hear you been in Chicago.

- Sit down. - Thanks.

Those fellas you talkin' to know.

I, uh, played Pony Moore's club

and down on Dearborn.

Pony Moore...

Pony Moore was that big-spendin' landlady.

Yeah.

She had a lot of them light-colored women in there.

Best-lookin' things you ever saw.

Strictly for whites.

I hear you've been playin' my music.

You oughta hear how I play it.

I hear how you play it.

They say "play a waltz,"

and you give them Maple Leaf Rag in 3/4 time.

I'd play it on a cigar box if that's what they want.

It wasn't written in 3/4 time, Louis.

Thank you.

All the fellas are doin' it now.

I do it all over...

Joe sults' and Charlie Smith's.

The professors I know made themselves satisfied in one place,

let well enough alone.

Well, I wasn't as dumb as some of those other fellas.

The girls go crazy for you.

You stay too long in one place, they will give you a present.

That's the truth.

Well, you oughta know that.

A baby crib? I gotta see this.

Seen every other kind of crib.

A baby crib?

Doll.

A doll!

One of the most beautiful on the street.

Went crazy for me.

I didn't pay no attention to her.

Fellas tell me... they say, "Louis," they say,

"boy, we wish we had something like that makin' eyes at us!"

I didn't say nothin'.

Then she leave town, this girl.

They tell me, "Louis, you know",

"a lot of fellas pay 20 dollars a night

to go with this girl..."

Louis...

What really brings you here?

Tom Turpin's got the ladies in town...

greatest collection of madams ever seen...

up from New Orleans to look over the new professors.

There's to be a social evening at the Rosebud Cafe.

Ooh, they really gonna take the door off of this one.

Turpin's asked me to ask you to be, uh, the guest of honor.

Guest of honor for Basin Street prostitutes.

Listen, this is gonna be Madam de Ware of the ready money.

Lulu White, Betty Rae.

Wine five to ten dollars!

Kind of wine I'm talkin' about flows in those houses.

Buy a new suit, fancy hat,

let the landladies plunk you down on a stool

with whiskey and a lot of light-skinned colored women.

That's how you make a fiddler out of a violinist,

and a strummer out of a pianist.

This ain't down the line.

Maple Leaf Club, ready money...

the Rosebud is no different.

They're all bordellos.

Just plush red carpets and French chandeliers.

You playin' it safe?

What are you sayin'?

I don't think much of this uptown stuff...

messin' around with piano scores.

Louis...

Man any good, he plays his music.

You playin' it safe.

I'll tell Belle you're leaving.

They gonna go crazy you come in that place.

When was the last time you heard that?

I don't know why that man doesn't realize you're through.

I mean, that he should come here and ask...

He oughta know you're through with that sort of thing.

Is that what you're feeling?

Yes.

That he asked you to play Tom Turpin's?

Well, what did you tell him?

I haven't given him an answer.

Do you miss it?

I miss none of it.

Scott...

If you wanna play there, I don't mind.

I don't mind anything you wanna do.

Tell me what you're feeling.

They're playing my music wrong.

Oh. Well, that's terrible.

What do they do?

Mess it up, stunt around with it.

Is that what's wrong?

Madam Lulu White,

Diamond Queen of the Bayou,

Jewel of New Orleans.

Countess Willie Piazza of the Chateau Lobrano.

From the first family of Russia,

from her court in St. Petersburg.

Miss Emma Johnson of 333 Mason Street,

house of all nations,

The Queen of America.

Now you all got to stop feastin' your eyes on these pretty women

and feast your eyes on the handsome man... me.

We got some of the fanciest, beautiful-est madams in the world.

And we have tonight...

we got us some of the best professors

that ever walked this district.

Kinda lucky tonight.

We got a lad come in here...

when this lad walks in,

you really got to get up off your piano stool

and let him just break down your piano.

I mean, they may call me the Father of Ragtime,

but let me introduce you to the King of Ragtime!

Scott Joplin!

I'm gonna change printers.

Wrong notes, misprints, misspellings.

Just too damn much errata.

I suppose it's a foolish thing to ask,

but you've had a distinctly foggy look these past few days.

No harm, if you think so.

How's Belle?

Oh, the heat's keeping her...

Scott.

Damn!

What is wrong? What... what do you want?

To put as much distance between myself and the Tenderloin

as soon as possible.

You know, you have changed.

I feel it.

It's your virility reasserting itself.

I'll tell ya something.

I haven't had the courage to say it before,

but I'll tell it to you now.

You are a genius,

truly a great American composer.

Your music is born of the sod and soil.

I'll tell you something else.

I'm taking your music this week before the exhibits committee of the St. Louis fair.

This fair is gonna be the largest American exposition ever conceived.

John Philip Sousa's gonna be there and so are you.

You are the author of America's truly native music.

I'm gonna make the people know it.

Liebling: But ragtime is simply not serious music.

It's crude, it's common, it's heard everywhere.

A colored show no matter how you state it, Mr. Stark.

Isn't that what you're asking for?

A lot of bangs and explosions?

Coon music, we confess, has not been contemplated.

Ragtime is not coon music.

What is it, if it's not?

In words you'll understand,

a quenchless vitality.

A music never heard before, fighting to be born.

The black man's bawdy response to authority.

Mr. Stark, precisely what do you want of us?

You have Sousa represented at your fair.

I ask that Joplin's music also be represented.

You'd set Joplin alongside of Sousa?

I would suggest timing publication of an original rag

written especially for the opening of your fair.

I also ask a forum for Joplin's music.

I rest content that it will achieve its place

in American musical history.

You just have to come up with a better argument than that, Mr. Stark.

Tickets.

Tickets?

Tickets.

Over 350,000 people bought Maple Leaf Rag.

A million more bought the rest of his music.

1,350,000 who know Scott Joplin's music,

who'll pay to hear it.

Yes?

This is for him.

I'll give it... I'll give it to him.

I've been told to give it to him hand to hand.

I'm sorry, he's working.

When will he be done?

I can't say.

I will give it to him.

Uh, okay.

Another note from Louis Chauvin.

It just came.

Well, I thought you were friends.

I, uh...

I haven't spoken to him since he was in this room.

Scott, it's the third time he's asked to see you.

He's making a nuisance of himself.

It says he's sick.

Yeah?

What time is it?

It's quarter to 5:00.

I'm sorry I've kept so much to myself.

There's been the work on Cascades and...

You'll like it... legato cantilena in virtuoso tempo.

It's nearly finished.

But it's that damn committee that's withholding approval.

I, uh... Forgive me.

Go on, get out of here.

You hear me, woman?

Get out!

Stupid, big...

Legato cantilena with virtuoso tempo.

See, I know what it is.

I just can't write it down.

I never learned.

I ain't got time.

Ain't got time?

What's wrong?

I got a sickness.

It comes and goes.

Live life from day to day.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe I live it wrong, I don't know.

Shoulda learned to write stuff down, like you.

I don't know, maybe you did the right thing.

Listen, I, uh...

I want you to help me.

Help me put my stuff down on paper.

People knowing my name.

"Louis Chauvin," they're gonna say.

They'll go, "that man's music."

Yeah...

He wasn't just a... A baboon.

That's where I run out.

- It has just one theme. - Yeah.

It's beautiful, but it needs more.

Yeah, hey...

Kick my tail hard, huh?

Make me work.

Play it again.

Yeah, all right.

It starts with the hands.

You know that, huh?

You're going through that.

It just comes at you from out of nowhere.

Hey, look, I'm gonna work.

A lot of work to do!

You get on up... get out, go on home.

I, uh, I need a bath, that's all.

Uh...

I'll send for you as soon as I got something.

Stark: Scott?

Scott? Ho!

Been lookin' all over for you.

Get in.

I got double good news for you.

Giddy up!

You heard from the committee?

I heard from the committee.

Well?

They said yes.

My music! I mean, the way I wrote it, no changes?

The way you wrote it, no changes.

Got some more news for you.

You got your own separate booth,

just like Sousa and the rest.

I can't believe it!

You said double good news.

- I did? - Yes.

Double good news?

Oh, yes, I wrote it down on a piece of paper.

Hold the rein.

Yeah, here it is.

Congratulations, it's a girl.

Giddy up!

- Belle? - Fine.

The baby?

Oh, something. I'm not sure.

Please.

I admit it. Frankly, I don't know.

I'm keeping her under close observation.

She's not healthy, not strong.

Are you awake?

Yes.

How beautiful you look.

What's wrong with our baby?

May I sit here beside you?

I've waited so long for this moment.

To hold my baby.

Now they won't even let me have her.

Don't talk.

What's wrong?

If you know something, tell me.

You've always been the strong one.

I'm not your equal.

I confess to that... don't try to get up.

I've given you a terrible legacy, you and the child.

I confess...

Oh, god.

I don't want to harm you.

I have to tell you.

I've been dishonest, deceitful.

Don't say any more.

I've... neglected you so.

Belle.

Belle, we'll go away.

We'll go to Europe, we'll board the house.

We'll go to London.

We'll sail the oceans and rivers.

I'll pamper you disgracefully.

Could you come up, Mrs. Joplin?

I can't stop her from crying.

- Did you see this? - Yes.

We should've been over on the right, not next to the band!

- A single piano?! - I was lucky to even get it.

How could you let it happen?!

You weren't there at those meetings,

you don't know the kind of perception...

"you are now the greater living American composer."

Look what they said about it. They didn't say a thing about it.

Only "Joplin played also."

- I'm sorry. - You failed me!

Scott, I know how you feel.

You were overpowered by the extravagance of sound,

the sheer weight of volume.

Your music wasn't meant to compete on that level.

- It was just overheard. - It will be heard!

If volume is what they want, volume is what they'll get!

What are you talking about?

I'm gonna write an opera.

- An opera? - An opera in ragtime.

A ragtime opera!

- Why? - Because it is right!

Because it is their music!

Con brio fortissimo.

And that they will draw cover from.

It's suicide, financial, professional...

It's what I wanna do!

I know what you're going through.

I know what you're suffering, please believe me.

I can put myself in your place.

Is that what you wanna tell me?

Scott, I'm going to New York.

Go with me.

There's a new musical theater there.

Vaudeville! Jigtime piano.

You haven't even looked it over!

They may talk of dandy niggers, but they never see this coon

a-promenadin' Broadway on a Sunday afternoon.

Do I genuflect or kneel?

You think that's what I have in mind for you?

I know the people that'll help me with the opera.

I'll work out the vocals and orchestration myself.

All I need is a publisher to act in my interest.

If it isn't going to be you, then I wanna know about it!

I should've remembered we see life differently.

I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.

But I will not nail myself down to your egotism.

Scott, I'm going to New York.

To do what I know how to do.

Both of us should go. Please go with me.

That your answer?

I was remembering the time we said we'd marry.

Does it embarrass you so much to talk about it?

Ultimately...

you'll see that I was wise not to talk about it.

You needn't stop talking altogether, you know?

I'd been made love to before.

I know a lot about love.

But it wasn't the same with them...

as it was with you.

With you...

I felt soft

and sorry inside.

No matter how much you rejected me...

I could stand it.

Not anymore.

Stark: Scott and I had stopped talking to each other.

He wouldn't see me.

In fact, he wouldn't see anybody.

He'd become completely obsessed by his opera.

Nothing else mattered to him.

He wanted that opera to be the summation

of all he knew and all he felt.

By this time, everyone was writing rags...

everyone except the man who made ragtime popular.

The only thing Scott Joplin was writing was his opera.

Louis: I want you to help me.

Help me put my stuff down on paper.

Any particular part you want?

I forget the phrasing.

There was a transition here.

That's it.

That's it.

Say something.

They, um...

Belle?

Gone.

Baby?

Dead.

Don't let it frighten you.

Fright eats you.

It's my close friend, I shook his hand.

That's what I heard hollering. I thought it must be that.

Don't stand any disobedience from you.

He'll search you out again.

Does he wear a red tie? He said he would.

Yeah, he wears it.

Got an old greasy spot on it.

Here. Skin is good.

Where'd you get the mattress?

Stole it.

Steal another.

♪ Gabe kid ♪

G-Gabe kid just wouldn't work.

He just wouldn't work.

Just as fat as a fat pig.

He used to wear a flower...

a small, purplish-lookin' thing.

Pretty flower.

Never knew what it was.

Knuckle fingers.

We all play by ear.

Never even thought to write it down,

even learn how.

It was too much trouble.

Now it's considered all right.

Used to be just low-type music.

Never did quite get that part of it.

♪ I got those old Monday blues ♪

♪ those hangover Sunday blues ♪

Jelly Roll Morton.

♪ If it weren't for my baby, I'd go crazy ♪

♪ from all those wrong things I choose ♪

He played that stuff.

He played that stuff for the girls.

They sure remember him.

Yeah.

♪ Let me tell you about that gal of mine ♪

♪ together we seen some very hard times ♪

♪ but a shot of that old gin, my friend ♪

♪ will start us rollin' again ♪

Both: ♪ I don't mind those Monday blues ♪

♪ long as I got the cure, I can't lose ♪

♪ bein' with my hard-drivin' mama ♪

♪ baby, forget all the blues, yeah... ♪

Stark: How dare they call themselves the New York Music Company?

Hypocrites!

New York junk company, that's what they are.

Driving us independents out of business,

undercutting us in the five and ten cent store

with their so-called "sales" at nine cents a copy.

How can I print quality at nine cents a copy?

Next think you know, they'll be selling music in the livery stables.

Laugh, you old fool.

I'm laughing.

Wouldn't you?

I bet you told that New York music company.

I'll bet they thought a bull hit 'em.

I'd like to shoot them.

I think I will.

You've been on the road?

I think I read somewhere...

Vaudeville. Some jigtime piano.

If there's anything I can do for you...

The Peacock's the best show in town.

Hard to get tickets.

I can write a letter for you.

I think I can get you house seats if you don't mind mid-week.

What's this?

This? You always insisted on it.

- Heliotrope? - Yes.

That's a flower.

Small and purple.

It's not in bloom at the moment.

It was.

The Missouri boy in tin pan alley.

Tin pan alley? That don't fit you, you country peddler.

Here's one for the Missouri boy that fights back.

Got missionary zeal and all that stuff.

You gonna shoot somebody...

you gotta have ammunition.

Raymond! Get down to the Lobster House.

Bring back two of the biggest they got.

And a bottle of champagne!

Yes, sir.

Don't worry, we'll leave it there, the cat'll get it.

- I feel... - What?

I feel a sense of shock.

You know what?

I drink too much.

I should try to give it up.

I gave it up once.

I had a hell of a time.

I'll probably give it up.

You miss the river?

Well... sometimes.

Honestly?

I remember one time the goofer dust man came to town

trying to sell his superstitious dreams

and my mama came out of the house with her banjo

and chased him down the street right into the river.

You made that up.

I've been making up a lot of things.

That you have.

That's not all.

I finished it.

- Finished what? - The opera.

Opera?

- The opera? - Yes.

You want me to publish it?

I want you to back it.

Back it?

Back it?

What way? How?

How many singing parts?

Eleven.

Eleven?

How many musical numbers?

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-seven?

I have money of my own.

You have the new rags I've given you.

How much money do you have?

Ten, ten thousand.

That can't cover half of it.

Damn, the way you set me up.

You want... you want me to make up the rest?

Yes.

You know you almost disappointed me?

You almost turned out not to fit the myth.

The black illusion.

Carnegie Hall, white tie and tails,

pulling up in a carriage.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Joplin"... white man opening up the door.

That's not what I want.

I told it to you! I'm the one that said you could have it!

That's not what you said!

You said my music was a new art form!

Genuinely American, born of the sod and soil!

You said I was a genius!

And I want everybody to know it!

I have no need to believe in the afterlife.

You apparently do.

Yes.

What the hell are you trying to tell me?

What are you trying to say?

Are you ill?

What have you got?

It's complex.

Nerves?

Nerves, yes. In a way, nerves.

I won't pay penance for it.

Chorus: ♪ marching onward, marching onward ♪

♪ marching to that lovely tune ♪

♪ marching onward, marching onward ♪

♪ happy as a bird in June ♪

♪ sliding onward, sliding onward ♪

♪ listen to the... ♪

Scott: No, no, no! No, no, no, no!

Stop! Stop!

You're off-key!

You're off the meter!

You're flat!

Son of a... it's... follow it, follow it!

It's on the page, it's on the page.

Follow it!

It's easy to follow, it's easy to follow.

There's nothing funny about it!

Follow it!

All right, now. Start again.

Again. One, two, three, four.

♪ Marching onward, marching onward ♪

♪ marching to that lovely tune ♪

♪ marching onward, marching onward... ♪

Feel it!

♪ A bird in June ♪

♪ sliding onward, sliding onward ♪

♪ listen to that rag... ♪

If you want to order some sheet music,

I'd be glad to oblige.

If it's Joplin you're looking for,

I'm sorry.

I haven't seen him since summer.

He needs money.

Who doesn't?

He's trying to find a backer for his opera.

Can't find one.

I'm sorry, I've got an appointment.

He calls it Tree monisha.

He's gonna have a performance uptown in a hall in Autumn,

without scenery, musicians, costumes.

He's gonna play all the parts on the piano himself.

The cast are amateurs.

He spent all his own money.

What in god's name is the matter with him?

He's dyin'.

From what?

Rales.

Syphilis?

Syphilis.

My god, what a horror.

I been everywhere else.

Where is he?

He's livin' uptown.

He's remarried.

How could he be?

Well, it ain't that kind of marriage.

She takes care of him.

He don't have nothin', not a dime.

How much does he need?

Three thousand dollars.

I haven't got three thousand.

I haven't got anything.

This town has me beat.

I'm gonna close my offices, I'm going back to St. Louis.

Where can I find you?

Why?

Maybe I can run across somebody who's got some money.

I don't know!

West on 172nd street.

The Weeping Willow?

I play there.

Thank you.

Whenever you're ready, Mr. Joplin.

Get up from the piano, boy.

You're hurtin' his feelin's.

I haven't practiced that in a while.

I know what you're sayin'.

That can give you a devil of a time.

I've got work to do.

I'll go with you.

No.

No.

Man: In 1974, Scott Joplin's music won an Academy Award

for The Sting.

In 1975, his opera Tree monisha

was performed successfully on Broadway.

In 1976, he was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for music.

Scott Joplin died in 1917.