All language subtitles for The Actress (Comedy 1953) Spencer Tracy, Jean Simmons & Teresa Wright

♪ By then ♪

♪ I should have the chance ♪

♪ By fiddling to entrance ♪

♪ And fill with ardor
of romance ♪

♪ The prettiest girls in France ♪

♪ And while I'd play ♪

♪ My yearning eyes would say ♪

♪ My yearning eyes would say ♪

♪ To you, beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To paradise ♪

♪ Ere the sweet,
sweet waltz dream dies ♪

♪ Fly, fly, beautiful lady ♪

♪ On light, bright wings ♪

♪ While the rapture of music ♪

♪ Around us swings ♪

♪ Dream, dream ♪

♪ Dream and forget ♪

♪ Care, pain, useless regret ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ In my arms sing ♪

Don't wiggle.

Punk, what possesses you?

You've been eating
that fern again, haven't you?

Oh, you bad cat.

Go on, now, Punk.
Go on.

Come on. Come on.
Come on.

Don't let Punk up, Clinton.

Come on, Punk.
Go on down there.

What kind of
haberdashery's all that?

I hate Jones for a name.

Jones is a good name.

Easy to remember,

short to write.

It's too plain.

Papa, you think our name
is really Jones?

I wish you were
a changeling, Papa,

and our name was
something else.

Don't be worrying

about being no changeling.

Just aim to amount
to something.

Won't matter
whether your name

is Jones or Finnegan
or Andrew J. Poopaw.

Good wine needs no bush.

Now, look, get that cat
off the register.

I don't want that hot air
coming up through his fur,

giving me back
my old malaria.

Get him off there!

Sitting around there,

walling up his old germs.

Punk's clean and healthy
and hasn't any germs.

What good's a cat anyhow?

How about throwing him away?

Clinton, you just like
to hear yourself talk.

You don't fool even Punk.

I wish we could have a dog.

A cat's
so tacky-looking.

Dan Weymouth thinks
he's a bright cat,

and he loves you, Clinton.

Who? Dan Weymouth?

Oh, Clinton,

Punk, of course.
Punk loves you.

And well he might

because you've
taught that cat

every blessed thing he knows.

Come on. Come on.
Jump over there.

Jump.

Loves me in a pig's patootie.

That's not nice.

Papa, everyone else
has got one,

so why can't we
have a telephone?

Wouldn't have one

if you gave it to me
as a gift.

You'd have felt awful

that day
president Cleveland died

if you couldn't have
called up Mrs. Litchfield

to tell Mama to hang
our flag at half-mast.

How often do you think

that occasion's
going to arise?

I wish our name
was Cleveland.

There's a girl goes
to Quincy Mansion School

called Fentress
Serene Kerlin.

Queen of the Hawaiian
islands' name

is Liliuokalani.

I don't know what it
has to do with anything.

All right. Get down.

Oh, Mama, you haven't...

Clinton, do you think
you could get the furnace

to give out
a little more heat?

It ain't the furnace.

It's the coal.
Order a ton

of half nut and half egg,

and what do you get?

Ton full of clinkers.

About as much heat

as a whale's hind fin.

I had to get your
father to go do that

so I could tell you
about this skirt.

It's all wrong, Mama.
Hazel Dawn...

Hazel Dawn can wear
her skirts

any way she feels called to,

but I'll not have
you wear any skirt

like that actresses
picture you sHowed me.

Hazel Dawn doesn't live in
Wollaston, please remember.

But slit skirts are...

Are all the rage!

Well, let them be,

but I'll not have you
walk around Wollaston...

In a skirt split halfway up
past all decency.

Oh, Mama!

Want people to think
you live in a harem?

But it's how
the dress has to be.

It has to, Mama.

It's what gives it
that frenchy touch.

All you'd have to do is

walk up Newport Avenue
once in that dress

and everyone
in Wollaston would know

you'd all at once decided
to be an actress.

It doesn't cost any more

to have it stylish, does it?

Ruth, do you or do you not
want your father

to know you want
to be an actress?

No.

All right.

Then don't go
appearing before him

in a hobble skirt
with a slit.

You'll not only look
like an actress.

You'll look downright fast.

If it wasn't
for you and Papa,

I'd go in Boston and be
fast right this minute.

How can you say such a thing?

You go in the parlor
and cool off.

Well, if I do...

Will you talk
to Papa some more

about having a telephone?

Go put on your other dress.

If the furnace hasn't
made him mad, I will.

Thermometer says 4 above.

Of course, it ain't reliable.

Nobody's thermometer is.

It's warmer in here already.

The register's
letting out real heat.

Papa, if you could choose
any telephone number,

what would you choose?

123-skidoo.

When people telephone us,
it's free.

And rest assured, Clinton,

you personally wouldn't
have to have

a thing to do with it.

It could just be
Ruth's and mine.

It can be Ruth's and Naomi's
for all I care,

as long as I don't
have to pay for it.

Got your grocery list
ready for Purse's?

Clinton, you want
to do that now?

Might as well.
Get it over with.

What did I do with...

careful! Don't burn
the shack down, now,

jiggling that lamp.

I won't, Clinton.

A telephone would
be more convenient

to call up the fire station.

My unity got caught
in the top...

my mental science magazine.

I wish you'd
read it, Clinton.

It helps me a good deal.

What's this thing?

Oh, my library
withdrawal card

to keep my place with.

Mental science is
awful hard to follow

if you ever lose your place.

Gracious, breakfast
will be upon us,

and I haven't mixed
my buckwheat batter.

Ruth, did you get the
flour from the market?

You got a Backus
grocery bill this month?

Uh... yes, I did.

One or two little items...

it beats the Dutch.
I don't understand it.

Every two weeks, we get
a shipment of groceries

from Boston
from S.S. Purse.

Every Saturday, i
bring home the vegetables

and the meat from
Faneuil Hall market.

Friday, I get a fish
at the T. Wharf,

and yet every month,

we got that measly
Backus grocery bill!

Can't tell exactly absolutely

two weeks ahead

just what I'm
going to be needing

for the next
two weeks to come.

What?

I just don't know what
we're going to need

for the next
two weeks to come.

It beats the Dutch
why you can't.

A cook on a ship can do it.

If you're laying out
in the Straits of Singapore

and you want a can of lard,

there's just
two things you can do.

You can have it with you
or do without.

I know it, Clinton.
Don't think I don't.

We got to sit around
and watch

old Backus' whole pie-faced
family riding around

in a two-seated carriage
every sunday.

Well, where is it?
Get it out.

You know it won't get paid
by just regretting it.

What's this... butter?

I thought she was
going to go up

and get that stuff
that the farmer

brings in to Brighams
every week.

The Brighams live
way up on Prospect.

Climbing up
that hill and all,

Ruth says it hurts her back.

Climbs up the hill
when she goes coasting.

Carrying butter
tires her out.

But we don't take
but 3 pounds a week.

Now, Clinton,
you know yourself,

she's just
at the growing age.

Lazy as a louse.
That's what she is.

How old is she,
anyway? 14? 15?

I'm 17, Papa.

17? At your age, I had
nine years before the mast,

two of them under a ma...

What's the cat's meat?

That the steak we had
last night?

Of course not.

That was called
Louisiana Steak.

It was a receipt I got out
of the Boston Globe,

and you ate it
like you liked it.

So good, why didn't you
give some of it to the cat?

He have to have
special cat's meat?

It's good enough for me,
it's good enough for him.

No. You've
got it all wrong.

What's good enough for me
ain't good enough for him?

I'll kick that cat from here
to Gibraltar and back!

Oh, Clinton, you're so hasty.

The day I got the cat meat

was the day
we had baked beans.

There wasn't anything
else left in the house.

You can't feed
a dumb animal beans.

I don't know
what's so dumb about him.

Don't do no work,

got a fair-to-middling
place to live,

upwards of 3 to 4
square meals a day.

I wish to jiggers
I was a cat!

What was we doing
with four tangerines?

Well, now, Clinton,
the child took one a day

to high school
in her box of lunch.

Well, couldn't
she just take a orange

like any other ordinary...

or is that
too big a piece of fruit

for her to lug
with that weak back?

Dribble, dribble, dribble.

Well, that's where
the money goes.

The Mellins Food
pays me 37.50 a week.

You got me living
like I was W. K. Cottington

sitting at a roll-top
mahogany desk.

Clinton, saying you live
like Mr. Cottington...

Don't forget,
I got to pay something

on Dr. Adams' bill.

On the 23rd,
the Mutual premium comes due.

I'd like to go to sleep
and wake up on April 24th.

Clinton, what a way to talk.

Why, suppose
that premium slid?

What would Ruth and I do
if anything happened to you?

I guess you wouldn't starve.

I'd like to know
why we wouldn't.

You'd be stuffed so full
of the food

I buy you from S.S. Purse
and Backus grocery.

That's why you wouldn't.

Don't forget.
Besides the $37.50,

there's your bonus.

Can't count on a bonus till
you got it in your hand.

A man has to grovel
and curtsy 364 days a year,

then on the 365th,

say something wrong
to old Cottington,

and there goes the bonus.

Oh, well. I guess
money isn't everything.

No, no, no, but poverty is.

It's everything
in my whole world.

Clinton, you can't
call us poverty.

Yes, I can too.
I even know the color of it.

It's a dirty rotten brown.

It's everywhere I go.

Every minute of my...

it's in my eyes,
my nose, my ears, my feet.

It's on the front walk
when I come home at night.

It's in this dog-eared,

borrowed-from-the-neighbors
magazine!

Clinton, you're just crazy.

Yes, I'm crazy.
I'm crazy because I'm poor.

Just seems like there's
nothing I can afford.

Just nothing.
Not one blasted nothing.

I can't even afford
to catch cold.

Old Swolman up on the hill
wants to have a cold,

he can have one seven days
a week if he wants to.

Can't even sit
on the furniture,

especially that stuff
in the parlor.

Whenever I sit,
I sit real careful like

because I'm afraid
I might spoil it, and...

and I buy
the New England Gazette.

I'd like to buy
the Scientific American,

but I buy
the New England Gazette.

You know why I buy it?

Because it costs a measly
5 cents, and the other...

what's the use?

I got the brains
and the inclination.

I just haven't got
the 35 sou,

that's all.

Live on hash and stew

and Louisiana cat meat,
for all I know,

when I got a taste
for oysters and curry

the way they used to
fix them in Bombay.

Bird's Nest Soup

the way that little
french girl used to make it

in Wiscasset when I went
with Fred Gee that time.

And rich custard apple

they almost give away
for nothing in Mozambique.

I don't know what
to do, Clinton.

I really don't.

Don't bother.
I'm going out.

Oh, Clinton.

Don't do anything rash,
for all our sake.

Nothing rash in going out
and laying down

on the New York, New Haven tracks.

Clinton, you wouldn't!

I'm going to take
that cat with me.

Look at him. Got himself
on the register again.

Scientific wonder to me
he ain't fricasseed.

Come on, now.
Out from under there.

Oh!

Oh, you bad cat!

Oh, you...

I'll wash it off
with saltwater, dear,

extra strong.

That's my own blood.

You thankless cat.
Aren't you ashamed?

Get the cat's answer
later, will you?

I don't propose to stand here
till gangrene sets in!

Hey!

Where's the fire?

Where's the fire?

What? I just got
a letter from...

Oh, see you.

Oh, excuse me!

Anna, she sent it!
Her picture!

Who?

Hazel! Hazel Dawn!

Oh!

Oh, let me see!

I didn't even open it.

Think of it, Anna.

Just think of it!

Anna, just think of it!

Oh, I may die!

Oh, isn't it beautiful?

Oh, I certainly am
the happiest thing.

It's from the Touraine Hotel,

Boston, Mass.

And I wrote, too,
but she didn't send mine.

Oh, things happen to me...

the greatest
in the whole world!

This has to mean...
it has to!

I was meant to be an actress,

or else why didn't
she send one to you?

No matter what happens...

Look. I'm taking
a vow unto myself

on this picture.

I am going to be
somebody wonderful

like you'll read about,

and nobody can stop me,

not even my own family.

Say, for a minute,
you looked different.

I'm going to live in
some gorgeous place

like the Touraine Hotel

or some other gorgeous
place just as good,

and I'm going to
have Mama and Papa

be living up on a hill
with a hired girl

and a thoroughbred
fox terrier.

I'm going to run up
terrible grocery bills

and never look
at the price, and...

oh, I'm going to get
everything great

for everybody!
It's disgusting

to live just to
support yourself.

I have to fly
and tell Katherine.

She'll die!

Ooh, how are you?

Sick.

Oh, good... -

I mean, that's a shame.

See, now, there's Pernambuco

right up that channel.

Move that whale's tooth.

See, right there.

And it's pernambuco, too.

I don't give a snap

what they say
at Quincy High School.

It's not per nam buco.

That's how they say it.
They ought to know.

Now, go right up...
what was that?

Just Ruth leaving
for the Braintree dance.

Fred Whitmarsh called
to take her.

Oh, well!

Here I was learning her

something of some real value.

Something that everybody
don't know, too.

I know.

And that certainly
brings up a point.

What she knows,
you could put in a frog's ear.

She don't know beans
when the bag's untied.

What's she aiming at,
anyway? Anything?

She's young.

She's not that young.

If anything
was to happen to me,

what would she do?

Took her a year
to make a buttonhole.

I'm not too sure that,
if called on,

she could correctly boil an egg.

Ruth's deep.

She may be striving...

What could she do?

Just supposing I was laid out

up at Fay's Undertaking
establishment.

What could Ruth draw down?

Oh, dear, don't be morbid.

What could she?
Tell me.

After you've driven behind me

up to Mount Wollaston
cemetery

and was back here
fixing your supper,

what would the plan be?

Just let me in on it.

Laying out under
them wilted posies,

I might be kind of curious.

I don't know.

Go on.
Spout it out.

I suppose she could do any
one of a hundred things.

Don't name me a hundred.
Just name me one.

Name me one man,
woman, or child

who would be hard-enough
put to employ her.

Clinton,
you're nervous. I...

Don't worry about me.

I'm put away
for the time being.

Let's start with something

that's even colder than
I'll be... fundamentals.

Now, come on.
Be frank.

Can she thread a needle?

Well, of course.

After all, Clinton,
it'd be only normal

for her to get married.

Did you ever think of that?

Fred's very sweet on her.

All right.
Suppose she marries Fred.

Now suppose
he's passed on, too,

and laying next to me
up there at Fay's.

Now we're both laid.

It's quite a field day
for Fay, by the way.

Both of us laying
up there nice and cozy.

What's she going to do now?

You know, a woman
should be independent,

and one way to be independent

is learn how to earn
your own keep.

Now, I got one plan,

if I could just swing
the education end,

and that's the Boston
Physical Culture Schooll

for her after she gets
through high school.

Why on earth
the Boston Physical...

to prepare Ruth to go
out and earn her bread

as a physical instructress.

But it's a very
expensive outfit,

and I don't want
to get her hopes up

until I'm sure I can
see my way clear to.

But her dancing days
have to be over someday.

She can't go
hopscotching around

in Cochato Hall forever.

She better start worrying.

Thank you,
Mrs. Hinkelman.

You know what i
was imagining?

You and I dancing on a stage

and a million people
staring and applauding.

Hooray for us.

Oh, listen. It's mine.

What is?

The music.

The Pink Lady Waltz?

It's what I'm
going to be, Fred.

What, a waltzer?

An actress.

No kidding.
You really are?

Shh. But it's a secret
only for you, Fred.

I threw caution
to the wind because...

because you appeal to me.

I do?

Fred, dance this
like we were alone

on a vast, vast stage!

You're full of
the dickens tonight.

♪ Fly, fly, beautiful lady ♪

♪ On light, bright wings ♪

♪ While the rapture of music ♪

♪ Around us swings ♪

15-2, 15-4, 15-6,
and a run of...

Shh, Clinton.
They'll hear you.

Hear me what?

Ruth, go see who's
at the door.

If it's anyone, they
can't stay long. It's 9:00.

You say it's 9:00

because you like
to say 9:00.

It ain't 9:00 yet.

Ruth, pull down your skirt.
It shows you lack poise.

Oh, Mama, please.

It's just Anna Witham
and Katherine Follett.

Oh, hello,
Mrs. Jones.

Hello.

Come stand by the sideboard.

The register will
warm you up.

Don't stand by the register

if you've got cold feet.

No, you'll get chilblains.

If your feet are cold,

never stand near a fire.

Stick them in ice water.

Mr. Jones,
I don't get chilblains.

I stand by the register
all the time.

We have to do Latin, Mama.

Chilblains
are an awful thing.

I remember one winter,

we was heading into Halifax.

December, it was.
December takes

a bigger toll on vessels...

Papa, no one's
got chilblains.

No, but they will have

if they stand
near a register,

get their feet wet with snow,

and chilblains can
be an awful thing.

Chilblains not only
attacks the feet,

you know.
It sometimes attacks

the nose and
the ears as well.

Awful thing.

I remember one
winter we was headed

through the northern straits

aboard a vessel answering to

The New Star of Malta.

That was the first voyage out

I had my spyglass.

You might take a
look at her, girls.

She standing there
on the sideboard.

Come along, girls.
Come along.

Here she is.

Bought her one time

when we was taking on cargo
in Liverpool.

Good as she ever was.

Greatest glass
to be had for the money.

Uh-huh.

Lenses ground
by Karl Rosch in Hamburg.

I set great store
by this glass.

Mmm.

If you ever have occasion...

Mama, we got lots
of studying to do.

Go on upstairs, now.

Don't make the port of
Halifax in the wintertime

if you can make other
arrangements, Katherine.

Shut the door after you, now,

so as not to be disturbing.

Goodness, Ruthie,
your father!

Hee hee!

What's the assignment,
Katherine?

Didn't you take it down?

No. I thought you did.

Anna, you never do
anything for yourself.

Oh, there it is!

Oh!

I don't want Papa to hear.

Why not?

He'll kill me.

Why?

Because it cost 35 cents.

When do you think you're
ever going to tell him?

Tell him what?

About going on the stage.

Why? Wouldn't he
want you to?

Oh, he'd kill her.

Oh, Mr. Jones has
a terrible disposition.

♪ To you, beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Dream, dream,
dream and forget ♪

♪ Care, pain, useless regret ♪

♪ Let the river flow
down to the sea ♪

♪ Bright sea,
bring my loved one home to me ♪

♪ True, dear one, true ♪

♪ I'm trying hard to be ♪

♪ But hear me say ♪

♪ It's a very long, long way ♪

♪ From the banks of the Seine
for a girl to go and stay ♪

♪ By the banks
of the Saskatchewan ♪

dDo you have to sing out
your lessons?

You know, education is
denied to most people.

Treat it with some respect.

Given your opportun...

The Theatre magazine?

Where did you get this?

It's nothing.
I just happened...

35 cen...

did you get stung
35 cents for this thing?

No.

Well, it didn't hop out
of the woodwork, did it?

Well, it's Katherine's.
I borrowed it.

Oh. Well, stow it away.
Get to work.

Gosh.

Excuse my saying
it was yours.

Oh, you had to.

Oh, that's all right.

You can't ever tell him

you're going
to be an actress.

Well, I'm practically
an actress already.

What, Ruth?

Well, I wasn't going to
tell anyone, but look.

What is it?

A letter from Hazel Dawn.

Oh, Ruth!

Inviting me
to come and see her

behind the scenes!

Oh, Ruth!

I wrote her the night
I got her picture

telling her how great it was

and how I intend
to become an actress

and could she let me know

how about start going
on the stage myself.

Don't touch it!

I'm going to get it framed.

Well, hurry!

It's like reading
Dreambook magazine.

"Colonial Theatre,
Boylston Street, Boston, Mass.

March 9.
Dear Miss Jones..."

no, no, no.
Read it slowly.

All right.

"Colonial Theatre,
Boylston Street, Boston, Mass.

"March 9.

Dear Miss Jones."

Oh!

"Thank you for your letter.

"I think it is fine

"that you want to be
an actress if you...

"If you want
to be an actress.

"If you come to the matinee
on Wednesday,

"perhaps you would
like to come

"to my dressing room
before it

and talk to me"!

Oh!
Oh!

Wait.
I didn't finish!

"Sincerely yours,

Hazel Dawn."

Oh!

Oh, she must be beautiful.

Does it seem as though
a thing like that

could happen
to anyone in Wollaston?

Oh, but, Ruth,

Wednesday's a school day.

Well, I'll say I'm sick.

I'll say I have a headache.

Miss O'neill will never
let you go home for that.

Well, then, I'll throw up.

Oh, that will be wonderful!

What do you think
you'll wear?

My new red tango
colored dress.

Some of it's only basted,

but it's the only thing
stylish I've got.

Oh, you'll look stunning!

Will you do your hair
any different?

Ruth, Ruth, do it
like Hazel Dawn.

Let me try.
Come on.

I'll hold up
the picture for you.

I look funny.

You do not.
You'll look darling

with your hair
like Hazel Dawn.

I don't mean my hair.
I mean all over.

Oh, you don't, either.

You know what

Clark Bookton
told Gladys Bain.

Oh, Katherine.

If you tell that...

oh, go on.
What'd he say?

You went and told Anna

I was crazy
about Herbert Mann.

Oh, well, that's nothing.

Clark Bookton went
and told Gladys Bain

Ruth had a cute shape.

Oh, Katherine!

Oh, why, that's repulsive!

Your father calling for you?

Perish the thought.

We got to go anyway.

Now, who's that,
do you suppose?

Well, now it's 9:00, Clinton.
There's the curfew.

Ruth, go see who's
at the door, will you?

Who is it?

Oh, hello.

Hello.

It's 9:00.

Who is it, Ruth?

Who'd you say it was?

Why, Fred, you're out late.

It's just Fred Whitmarsh.

What happened?
What happened?

I saw your light on,

so I knew

you were still sitting up.

We're not sitting up long,

but you can come in
for a minute.

Thought you was
at Harvard College.

Oh, I am,

but tonight's my
sister's birthday,

so we had a little shindig.

Oh. Well...

Good Night, Fred.

Good night, Ruth.
Good night, Fred.

Good night.

Good night, Ruth!

Oh, take your coat off.

Thank you.

You think Latin
trains your bean?

I forgot it already.

Sure, but while
you remember it,

it's supposed to be
quite instructive.

Here, Punk! Here, Punky Punk!

In back of the stove.

Uh... Latin never
seemed to be

about anything.

They were all
kind of bughouse...

Caesar and Cicero,
what's-his-name.

Oh, sure.

Come here, Punky.

Come in here, Fred.

Ever read Ben Hur?

In Latin?

No. Just in a book.

He's gone and got himself

wedged in behind the boiler.

Come on out of there,
worse-than-useless!

B-b-Ben Hur
was a Roman

like those others,

but it was a good
book, at least.

You should go out.

Ruth, you put him out.

Oh, Mama, now I'll
get all the fur.

His fur doesn't
come out in March.

Don't be so notional.

Punk's just like me.
Doesn't like cold weather.

Cats are quite
a lot of trouble.

Punk would just as well as not
stay right here all night,

but he gets up
on the piano in the parlor

and eats my Boston Fern.

He does?

Mama, do you have
to do that now?

I should think I did.

Look what time it is.

Papa and I have to go to bed.

Oh, Mama...

Fred doesn't mind
my saying that.

I mean, do you
have to do that

with the silver?

Well, of course I do.
This is solid silver.

I can't leave it
lying around.

Mr. Edward F. Atkins
gave me these

for a wedding present.

I was his stenographer.

Secretary, Mama.

I'd been his...
secretary for three years,

and the day I left
to get married,

his wife, Mrs. Atkins,

came all the way in
from Hopedale

and gave me these.

They're from Preston Hoyt,
the Boston jeweler.

And she said,
"I just want to tell you

"how much Mr. Atkins
is going to mind losing you

"because I know Mr. Atkins

is never going
to tell you so himself."

Mama, Fred isn't...

Well, I don't suppose he is,

but I can't leave things
like this lying around

for anyone to walk in,
help themselves to.

They go right in this box
under my bed.

After I'm gone
and they belong to you,

you can do with
as you see fit.

There's Punk.
Put him in the cellar.

Oh, Punk.

Good night.

Good night, sir.

Papa said good night, Ruth.

Good night.

Oh, Mama, please.

Good night, Fred.

Don't stay up
all night, Ruth.

Be in bed by 9:30,

and you come again, Fred.

Bear in mind you'll
be up late Friday.

We're attending the YMCU
gymnastic exhibition.

I don't like to boast,

but Mr. Jones
is appearing.

When you get through with it,

turn out the light!

Thank you.
I mean, good night.

Good night.

Well, you want to go
into the parlor?

I... I dropped by
because...

Oh, Clinton!

Uh... uh, what?

Oh, Clinton!

Did you sing out?

The alarm clock says 9:07.
Is that right?

Close enough!

A little noisy in here.

Do you want
to go into the kitchen,

maybe make some cocoa?

Perish the thought.

Oh. Well,
let's see...

Why, Clinton, are you
going to take a bath?

No, just testing her out

to see that the
pipes haven't froze.

Oh, if you don't
feel like cocoa,

maybe we could...
oh, the front porch

would be kind of
cold, I guess.

Yeah.

Didn't your par...

Didn't your parlor
ever have a door?

Let me know when
you're through, Clinton.

I want to come in.

Take a walk maybe?

All right.
Come ahead.

I thought we could
talk better if...

The only thing is,

the kitchen maybe
has a door to close.

No, Fred, no.

I'm not ever going
in the kitchen...

that is,
not ever with a fellow.

It's nothing against you,
Fred, or like that,

but even if it was
President Taft asking,

I wouldn't go
in the kitchen with him.

President Taft's married.

I can't help it.

Oh, well, anyway,

what I came to ask you about

and the reason I came
to ask you tonight is

that the Harvard Class Day
Invitations Committee

got elected today,

and, well, I'm
on the committee, so...

you are?

So would you go

to Harvard Class Day with me?

Fred, did you really say it?

It's going to...

what?

Harvard Class Day.

You know sometimes

how you get to
thinking about things

and how no fellow

will ever send you
flowers or take you

to the Harvard and Yale
football game

or ask you...

well, I'd just
as soon say it...

ask you to get married.

Look, I really
never did think

that anyone would ever,

so long as I lived,

ask me to Class Day
at Harvard College.

Here I am, and I did
get invited.

Has he gone yet?

Oh, look, Fred, I guess...

I say, has he gone yet?

I'll drop back tomorrow.

Uh-huh.
Only go now!

Better put my collar up.

It's getting cold
out to Cambridge.

Don't know if
it will or not...

Charles River
might freeze over.

Good night.

Good night, Clinton.

Say, have you heard
that new dance?

Out to Cambridge,

everybody's dippy about it.

Here...
let me show you.

Um...

da da da

da da da da

da da da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

da da da da da

da da da

da da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

What's the
matter with that galoot,

making that infernal racket

in the middle of the night?

Doesn't he know
when to go home?

Look, Fred, you've got to go!

Oh, don't!

Ohh...

♪ Mm-m, you ♪

♪ Beautiful lady ♪

♪ I raise my eyes ♪

♪ My heart, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To your heart sighs ♪

♪ Come, come, beautiful lady ♪

♪ To paradise ♪

♪ Ere the sweet,
sweet waltz dream dies ♪

Why, we're here
in lovely time!

I was just going to
drop by your place.

How do, Mr. Mcgrath?

Ruth and I are going
into Boston

to attend Mr. Jones'
gymnastic exhibition.

What happened to you?

You got a telegram.

Why, I did not.
Let me see it.

I hope it's nothing dreadful.

It's good your
Mama's right by.

Oh, Mama.

Oh, Fred, well...

my knees are shaking.

I kind of wish we were home.

Doesn't seem appropriate,

opening up a telegram

right here on the
station platform.

Is it bad news?

I don't know. I never
got a telegram before.

Now, Ruth, don't get excited.

I once knew a girl
who had a telegram...

oh, mercy. Oh!

What on earth is it?

Mama, it's a telegram

for me to go on the stage!

Oh, darn, I left
my glasses at home.

What?

From Hazel Dawn!

Inviting you to
become an actress?

Just as good as!

Telling me Mr. John Craig
will see me in his office

tomorrow, Saturday,
at 2:30 p. m.

Oh, Mama!

Oh, child!

Oh, good night.

Oh, Mama, tomorrow,
Saturday, 2:30 p. m.,

I might be an actress!

Oh, Ruth, don't
say such a thing.

You know your father's
disposition.

Why, if he found out
you were going calling

on Mr. John Craig,

to say nothing
of Miss Hazel Dawn,

I don't know what he'd do!

You know how he threw around

those cantaloupes

when all I said

was I wish they were peaches.

If he finds out
about all this,

goodness knows what
he'll throw around!

Of all the people
in the world to choose from,

Mr. John Craig
went and chose me.

Well, so did I.

What?

Choose you.

Mercy, here it comes.

Ruth, put that
darn thing away.

Good-bye, Fred.
Thank you.

Now drive careful

so as not to have
an accident.

Oh, I don't care
if I do, Mrs. Jones.

Please don't talk like that.

God will hear you.

I don't care
if he does, Mrs. Jones.

Well,
good-bye, Fred.

I'll let you know
about Class Day.

Honest I will.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Ruth, pay attention
to the exhibition

and stop peeking
at that darned telegram.

You swore
three times tonight.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the next treat
will be The Variety Show

by our married men's group.

The exercises will be
accompanied on the piano by...

on the piano
by Mrs. Clara Howe

of the Waltham
First Methodist church.

Mama, please.

Oh, my!

Look at that old fella go!

Where?

Right there.
You see him?

The old fella in
the swimming suit!

Ha ha ha!

Did you see him?
The old fella!

Huh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh, don't, Clinton.
Don't, don't, don't!

Oh!

Has he done it yet?

He's done more than do it.

That was a corker!

Did you see him lose
his britches?

Isn't that dangerous?

I must remember to fix those.

Now, wasn't that enjoyable?

I wish I was dead.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we now come
to the distaff side.

Miss Emma Glavey
will lead her group

in an Indian Club drill

as practiced
in the scandinavian countries.

This is the part Papa
wants you to watch.

I'm watching.

Watch Miss Glavey.
She's the best.

I may throw up.

Look at her sweating

right in front of everybody.

Well, maybe
so does Hazel Dawn.

Mama!

Pardon me.
Excuse me.

Clinton.

Ain't this some night?

Oh, you were
remarkable! Truly!

Hey, yeah,
there's Miss Glavey.

Keep your eye
peeled for her, now.

Yay!

Good girl!

Papa, please!

Oh, it's all right.

She's just like
one of the family!

That Miss Glavey,
ain't she a daisy?

I liked the cut of her jib

the minute I seen her.

Come on.

Let's get going
on the application.

Clinton, couldn't we
just wait until morning?

Now, Mama, come on.
Sleep ain't vital.

We got a daughter
going to enroll

in the Boston
Physical Culture School.

Cast anchor here, snuggy.

Oh, uh...
Clinton...

Now, now, now, now, now.

Name.

Name of Ruth Gordon Jones.

Ruth.

Age.

17.

Uh, Clinton, 17 is
very young to be...

Date of birth.

Date of birth.

October 13, 1896.

Sex.

Female.

Female.

Uh... weight.

Weight.

What do you...
well, I guess...

you'd shift the scale
about 115

with all your duds on.

115.

Uh, Clinton.

Weight. Height.

Height. Height.

5 feet, 4.

5 feet, 4 in.

Past schooling.

Past...

Oh. Wollaston
Grammar School

and Quincy High School.

Quincy high school.

Now, sports
in which you excel.

Sports in which you excel.

Which sports
in which you excel?

Clinton, Ruth is upset.

What about?

Well, she doesn't want to be

a Physical Culture teacher.

Why not?

Well...
well, some people

get inspired
over some things,

and others over others.

You got inspired
to be a sailor,

not a carpenter

like you said
your father was.

Well, just what do you think

you're inspired over?

I don't know.

Why, yes, you do, too, Ruth.

You tell Papa.

I don't want to be

a Physical Culture teacher.

What do you want to do?

Tell Papa, Ruth.
He wants to know.

I don't want to be

a Physical Culture
instructress.

Well, why don't you?

Because I'd rather be dead.

Don't say that, Ruth.
God will hear you.

God's listening to everybody.

I know, I know,

but I'm just
listening to her.

Why? Why?

I have to do my homework.

Why, no, you don't.

Ruth!

Well...

oh, don't stand there
like a dying cat.

If you got something
to say, come on.

Spit it out.

I want to go on the stage.

Well, what makes you think

you got the stuff it takes?

I don't know.

What give you the idea?

Well, there's a chance.

I wish I could be
like you want me to be,

but it's like if you
asked me to be a giant,

and I'm not a giant,

and I'm not a Physical
Culture person, either.

What makes you think
you're an actress?

She's not statuesque,
of course,

but she looks all right

when she remembers
to stand up straight.

When she smiles

and doesn't look
like a thundercloud,

Ruth can be very appealing.

She has all sorts of
artistic leanings,

and, mercy,
I guess some things

you just got to
trust in the lord.

I know, but when
you get up at meetings,

you got to deliver
the goods, too.

I know that
from being an audience.

I seen actors and actresses
all my life,

pretty nearly.

But I never seen
nobody look like you.

I ain't denying

that I always
enjoyed the theater.

Whenever my ship was in port,

I always went to whatever
attraction was playing.

I been in some places

I wouldn't ask no lady
to accompany me,

but I seen the best, too.

I seen Booth and Barrett,
Majeska.

I seen lotta.

Once when my ship
was laying in Frisco,

I even went over
and served as a stagehand

so I could
see her close, too.

Fine woman,
everybody that was

associated with her told me,

and I certainly
didn't see nothing

that led me to
believe any different,

but she or none of them
looked like you.

Papa, I didn't know

you ever worked in a theater.

I did it another time, too.

I went over and
shoved stuff around

for Mr. Booth
one time.

His first wife lays buried

right over here
at Dorchester.

Oh, I guess there
are decent people

on the stage,

same as anywhere else.

I ain't objecting
to it from that end.

Maude Adams they say
is very lovely,

but would you say
she seemed actressy?

Papa, please don't make up

your mind against me.

Would you just please
give me a chance?

I got something
I can recite to you.

I'll do one comical
anone tragical.

Mama, you sit
over here by Papa,

and, Papa, pull your chair up

so it will look
more like a theater.

Well, uh...

maybe I better
do it on the landing

so it will look
more like a stage.

Make... make me
a willow cabin at your gate

and call upon my soul
within the house.

Write loyal cantons
of contemned love

and sing them loud
even in the dead of night.

Halloo thy name
to the reverberate hills

and make the babbling
gossip of the air

cry out "Olivia!"

Uh, hold on.

Hold on just a minute, uh...

is this the comical one
or the tragical?

Well,
that was comical, P-Papa,

but I guess it didn't
sound so.

Maybe I'll do a song.

♪ Da da da dum dum dum ♪

♪ Oh, bring along the camera ♪

♪ Fetch along the camera ♪

♪ Don't have any doubt about it ♪

♪ Hurry... ♪

♪ Hurry up the camera ♪

♪ Got to have the camera ♪

♪ Can't do anything without it ♪

♪ When I think, when I talk ♪

♪ When I drink, when I walk ♪

♪ If you want to catch it
all in total ♪

♪ You must be on the spot ♪

♪ And of me take a shot ♪

♪ For everything I do
is worth a photo ♪

Well, uh... uh...

You think you could be heard?

Well, I can do it louder.

♪ Oh, bring along the camera ♪

♪ Fetch along the camera ♪

Don't have any doubt a...

You can be heard all right,

but, uh...

Do you think folks

would shell out
money to see it?

When I think, when I talk

when...

I can learn it
if anybody will teach me!

Hazel Dawn says
that Mr. John Craig

is a very
wonderful director...

Hazel Dawn? When did
all this take place?

Wednesday afternoon, Papa.

Well, what happened?

She said the best thing to do

was to get a job
and begin acting.

That way, I could get
experience right away.

This was before she
talked to her friend

Mr. John Craig,
of course.

She said if I went
to New York to do it,

I should stay
at a place there

called the Three Arts Club.

It's like the YMCA.

YW, Mama.

Oh, Ruth, how could you

go out nights to
Castle Square?

Why, girls go out
of their front doors

and disappear somewheres

every day of the week.

I'll be careful, Mama.

People offering them
poisoned candy

and saying they'll
show them how

to find their way.

Don't ever inquire how

to get somewheres

from anyone but
a policeman, Ruth.

It isn't only men

you have to worry about.

Women are worse than men.

Girls can disappear,
never be seen again,

and end up ashamed
all their life

in Rio where Papa's been.

"Where Papa's been."

I ain't worried
about that, Ann.

Ruth ain't gonna be
hauled off for no concubine.

Mama, I guess I can
look after myself.

The other day when
that man pinched me,

what did I do?

What man?

In Boston,
a man on Tremont Street.

What man on Tremont Street?

I'll kick him from
here to Gibraltar!

Never mind, Clinton.
He's gone now.

Have a glass of root beer.

You know,
as a physical instructor,

you'd lead a normal life.

As a actress, you know,

you're going to be
heading out

on a pretty rough voyage.

Dear, no one has
the problems we do.

Why, Mr. Craig
might want you

to commence acting
right away.

Well, I will, then.

You mean not finish
your schooling?

Have some root beer.

But, Papa,
every minute counts.

Maude Adams started

when she was only
6 weeks old,

and here am I going on 17.

Education is something you
can't afford not to have.

You have it.

I got my education
practically.

There's only
a few months more.

But then you'd graduate!

So, what's that?

They give you an old diploma.

I'll have it myself.

What's that,
for heaven's sakes?

Nobody cares whether
Ethel Barrymore

or Booth or Lotta
got an old diploma.

Now, you listen to me,

and I'm not going
to argue with you.

I'm laying down the law.
You finish your schooling.

It ain't as if schooling
was something you could leave

and then go back to.

You can't do that.
I found that out.

I left at sea
when I was 18 years old,

went up to Elmira and got
a room in the Rathwell House,

spent the whole winter trying
to pick up some learning.

I was a ship's mate.

I had made several voyages,

twice around the world.

Do you know where they put me
in school in Elmira?

In the fourth grade.

Papa, education meant
something to you.

I got all I need.

I can't pick and
choose my chance.

Whatever Mr. John Craig
says do, then I got to.

Your chance will come later

when you're better
equipped for it.

Now, you get word
to John Craig

you're not available
for any offers.

Now get the cat out
and batten down the hatches

and go to bed.

Papa, I never stood up
to you before,

but this time I have to!

You can hit me or anything!

I got a right
to my opportunity!

I'm affording you the
luxury of a education.

Don't treat that
luxury too lightly.

You know I could
send you down

to Houghton
and Dutton's tomorrow

and make you go to work
behind the counter.

Instead of that, I'm
choosing to educate you.

Your mother and I are
choosing to do without

so you can have an education.

Now, you respect our
efforts a little bit

and hold up your end
of the obligation.

But, Papa,
you don't underst...

Oh, Papa!

Hurry up, Punk.

Oh, Mama!

Now, just don't
start raging around.

Just be grateful he
didn't put his foot down

on your being
an actress at all.

Why, what's this?

Oh, some old candy.
Oh, Mama!

From Fred?

Yes.

Oh, Ruth, why
couldn't you forget

all about this
being an actress

and settle down
with some good man?

Oh, please,
don't be disgusting!

Oh, dear, you had to go
and be so different.

Oh, Mama, when 2:30 comes
tomorrow afternoon,

I'll never live through it!

Oh, yes, you will.

Douse the glim.

Don't be chewing
the rag all night.

Electric light costs money.

I'll go raving mad, Mama.

If I knew one single man

that wanted a mistress,

I'd go in Boston and be kept!

Oh, dear.

I suppose it's
no use asking you

because you know all
about everything,

but for the last time

before I turn out this light,

would you, just
for all our sakes,

please consider being normal?

I won't even
answer it, Clinton,

and I'll have the
telephone company

come take it out

first thing tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow's sunday.

Well, Monday, then.

So please don't be
depressed anymore.

Is it that you're still upset

about Ruth last night?

Where is she?

Up to Katherine Follett's.

Clinton.

Hmm.

Don't feel bad by yourself.

Word went around
the shipping room yesterday

Dan Weymouth is leaving.

Word is, Dan's
going to retire.

You mean he's quitting
and he wants to?

Who knows?

But if they're making him
retire and take a pension,

then the question is,

where is the ax
going to fall next?

Oh, Clinton.

If I was just sure
that Dan was retiring

of his own accord
and his own free will,

then it would be all right...

all right for Dan, that is.

But suppose they should
ask me to do the same thing?

The only answer I got is
to go out there and lay down

on the New York, New
Haven Railroad tracks.

Clinton. What about
the other men?

Are any of them leaving, too?

Here I've been worrying
about my bonus.

It ain't even due until july,

if they decide
to give it to me.

Turns out I got a lot more
than my bonus to worry about...

Got my whole job!

Clinton, won't you please,
just to make me happy,

call Dan on our telephone

and see what he
personally has to say?

We could get rid
of it tomorrow,

but couldn't it
be useful today?

Why do they call
this Elmwood Avenue?

It's full of Maple trees!

Clinton.

All right.

Uh... here's Dan's number,
just back of my thumb.

What is it?

Ashmont 271, party J.

I said I'd never
use this telephone,

and now here I am using it.

What is it again?

Ashmont 271, party J.

How do?

Uh... I'd like to
telephone to, uh...

Ashmont...

2...

71...

71, party J.

That's right.

She heard me, all right.

You have a fine
speaking voice.

Hello. Hello,
that you, Dan?

Oh, that you, Fan?

Oh. Ah... this
is Clinton Jones.

Clinton Jones.

I'm telephoning you
from Wollaston.

From Wollaston!

From Wollaston, where I live!

That's right.

Can you hear me all right?

Oh, I can hear you fine.

I'm telephoning, Fan,

because I would like to
speak to your father...

That is, if it's convenient.

Oh?

Oh. Ah... ah...

Well, when is he likely
to be coming back home?

Ah... well, I... I...

I don't want to put
him to no trouble,

but it is a little urgent.

Oh, he can telephone
me back here

as late as he has a mind to.

That's right.

All right, Fan.

If you're ready,

I'll hang up my end now.

When's Dan coming back?
Did she say?

Who knows? He's
at a lodge meeting,

and I've spent a nickel.

That seems like a good sign.

A man wouldn't go
to a lodge meeting

who'd just been laid off
on a pension.

I guess if you go
to lodge meetings,

you go under all conditions.

Uh... uh... uh...

that'll be Dan.

Hello.
This is Jones.

Who?

Who?
This ear-busting thing

is going to be a nuisance
like I said it...

they'll hear you.

Hello!

Well, if she wants
to say something,

tell her to walk
over and say it!

Who is it?

I don't know. Some
flibbertigibbet.

I can't...

Hello? Anna?

Oh, this is Ruth's mother.

Uh, yes.

Ruth's over
to Katherine Follett's.

She isn't?

Oh. Well, then I don't
know where she is.

Well, she's not at
Katherine Follett's.

Where is she?

Good-bye.

She and Katherine probably
went out for a walk.

Oh, lands!

Shut up!
I mean, excuse me.

It's just me, I mean,

so you don't have
to throw a fit.

Excuse me
for making you jump.

It's just that Mama
got me so worked up

telling me about...

Fred, look.

It's a stage door,
and I'm going through it.

Fred, tell me something.

Will you tell me
the gospel truth

even if it kills you?

Do I look terribly
short to you?

What?

Listen, I came here
to talk to you

about something...
something serious.

Would you marry me?

I mean, will you,

because I don't think
you look short at all.

I think you look wonderful.

Why, Fred!

Why, Fred Whitmarsh!

Did you propose to me?
Did you?

I know you're
bound and determined

to be an actress.

Just the way you want
to be an actress,

that's how much
I want you to...

that's how I...

darn it all,

I know I'm going
all around Nantasket

by way of Scituate Beach,

but... well, you see,

I never said this
to anyone before,

and I don't know how to

so it doesn't
sound slushy, but...

I love you.

So I mean it.
I'm asking you to marry me,

but of course I know I left
a lot of it out, but...

Gee, Fred.

That wasn't slushy at all.

It was beautiful.

It was just...

Well, here I was
walking along here,

scared out of
my boots, kind of,

and all of a sudden,

you make me feel
like somebody great.

Oh, I'll never
forget you, Fred.

Here, I...

I brought you something.

A real diamond?

Why, Fred Whitmarsh!

A solitaire,
the man called it.

It sparkles so!

It's the most gorgeous...

Oh, Fred, could I wear it

just to go see
Mr. John Craig?

It's yours to wear forever,

and I love you,

and I want to look after you,

and I can, because...

Gee, I'm a mess.

You know what I am?
I'm a kind of a whore.

You are not.

I am so. Well,
how can you like me?

See how selfish I am?

Just wanting
to take your ring

so I could go make a splash
in front of Mr. John Craig.

Take it, Fred,
and don't waste it,

because that's all it
will be giving it to me,

a perfect whore.

Fred, if I was going
to marry anyone,

I'd pick you,

but I can't,

and you're lucky
I can't, Fred.

All my life, I'll remember

that I didn't have to
be an old maid

because you
went and asked me.

No matter how it looks,

I'll know I didn't get left.

Say a prayer for me, Fred.

I'm going through that door,

and behind it
is my whole life,

all depending on
Mr. John Craig.

From an actress, almost.

Here. Occupy yourself
till Dan calls.

It will help pass the time.

Look at this I found
in my library book.

It's an old valentine

someone must have used
for a bookmark.

It says February 14, 1899

from Sue to little May.

Someone must have forgot it

when they brought the book
back to the library.

What's so interesting
about a valentine?

Well, a valentine means
something to most people,

but you're so unsentimental.

Why am i?

You'd never think
of sending a valentine.

Certainly wouldn't think

of sending
an old thing like that.

Went out and got one
once, set me back $25.

$25? Clinton!

Or the equivalent.

Why do you suppose
Ruth ain't content

to stay home
just once in a while?

Why, Clinton,
do you mean to say

you spent 25 whole dollars

for just nothing
but a valentine?

What I said.

Certainly felt ashamed

when I had to go out
and tell them

at the Boston
Physical Culture Schoolll

that Ruth didn't
know her own mind

for two minutes.

Clinton Jones!

Why, for pity's sakes,

what on earth was it made of?

You sure she notified
this Craig fellow

she wasn't coming
there, neither?

Clinton, I asked
you something.

Why?

I asked you
what was it made of.

It was made of silk
and lace and roses...

How do I know
what it was made of?

Clinton, you never
told me that.

Well, subject never
come up before.

Dan don't call pretty soon,

I got a good notion

to walk on over there.

Who did you buy it for?

I bought it for a lady

that run a boardinghouse
in Le Havre, France,

where my ship was tied up
taking on gear one time

and from where I went up
to Paris to spend the day.

This only happened
to me 30 years ago.

Somehow it don't
seem so vital

as why Ruth is gallivant...

Call up the Folletts.

I want to find out
where she is.

What on earth was her name?

I may not have a job,
for all you know,

and the only thing
you're interested...

her name was Madame Lynch!

Well, mercy, I don't
think that's very nice.

Well, she ran
a good boardinghouse

in Le Havre, France,
and her name was Lynch.

It was Lynch!

Quincy 991-n.

Oh, I wasn't talking
about your friend, Clinton.

I mean, I don't
think it's nice to shout!

You see, I can't help
being interested.

Did all the sailors

fling their money
around like that?

I don't know.

After all, I was only
the second mate, you know,

not the father confessor.

Oh, hello, Katherine.

Is Ruth there?

Oh?

Well, do you know
where she went to?

Oh?

Well, she's probably
up to Anna's.

Good-bye.

Well, Clinton,

I must say I didn't know

you had that side
to your nature.

There are a lot of things
about me you don't know.

Ever know I wore
gold hoop earrings?

Wore a sash around my middle
instead of a belt?

Didn't like the name
of Clinton for a sailor,

so I called myself fFrank?

Are you just crazy,
or are you irritable

because Ruth isn't home?

When I think of Singapore

and all them ports
I'll never...

get Anna on the phone.

I want to find out
where she is.

If I thought she went down to
see that Craig feller, I'd...

Ruth?

Uh-huh.

Where have you been
all this time?

Why do you got
your best duds on?

Did you go to see
that Craig feller?

I told her not to go.

Yes, but you hear her.

She has a right
to have her say.

Why did you do what Papa
told you not to, Ruth?

I had to.

You had to go
against my will?

Now, wait a minute, Clinton.

Why did you disobey
your father, Ruth?

I thought if I didn't,

I'd kill myself.

You didn't sign nothing?

Papa wants to know
what Mr. Craig said.

Well, he just wanted
to see me and meet me.

That was all.

I thought Miss Dawn said

Mr. Craig could
use you right away.

If I was right, she said.

Could he tell you weren't
from just only one look?

No, but it wasn't like that.

Well, what was it like?

I just went into
his office and...

And sat there.

Mr. Craig...

Go on, dear.

Well, he didn't seem like

he was interested, very,

and I was sort of scared.

I didn't think
I was going to be,

but I was,

and he didn't even
ask me to sit down,

but I thought I'd better

so I wouldn't look so short.

And then he just looked at me

like he was quite busy,

and then he said,

"What experience
have you had?"

And I got all
mixed up and said,

"No amateur experience,

only professional."

And then I had to
go back and say,

"I mean, no professional,

only amateur."

And then he said
that he didn't think

that I fit into the company

because I was hardly
suited to any part.

Well, he ain't
the only fish in the sea.

What did you go
to see him for, anyway?

Miss Dawn recommended him.

He's supposed to be
the best director.

Would you like

a glass of root beer, Ruth?

Hello.

Hello, Dan?

Is that you, Dan?

Well, I thought it was.

It sounds like you.

Uh, this is Clinton Jones.

Can you hear me, Dan,

or would you like me
to talk a little louder?

Oh.

Well, I'm telephoning, Dan,

about a matter that's given me
a whole lot of concern,

and what I'd like
to do is, uh,

is to ask about it

without in no ways
butting in.

It's about what's happening

down at the factory...

About you leaving.

Uh, now, Dan, would you
just mind repeating that

so I'm sure I got it correct?

You done it because
you wanted to do it.

Mr. Cottington
didn't ask you to do it.

In other words, Dan,

the whole idea
come from your end.

Uh-huh.

Well, uh... uh...

thanks, Dan. I'm glad
to hear you say it.

Fixed as I am, it's a relief.

You can appreciate, Dan,

that I'm not just asking this

out of idle curiosity.

Thanks, Dan.

Well, you can start
hanging up now, Dan.

I'm going to hang up my end.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, Dan.

Oh, isn't that
just a blessing?

Dan's a very lovely man.

Papa had a worry, too,

but his got straightened out.

Now, here, here.

You got a kick in the pants,

but that ain't fatal.

A kick in the pants

ain't never very agreeable,

but it don't have to
dislocate your whole life.

I told you to get education.

Now, you go ahead and get it.

Then you'll be ready.

Maybe you ought to
write to that place

you was telling me
about in New York,

that place that's
like the YWCA.

Oh, the Three Arts Club.

They say it's
a very lovely place,

far superior to the YWCA.

Three Arts Club, huh?

That don't sound like
such a bad anchorage.

How much do you think
it would take for you

to get started with
all your seams caulked?

How long do you think
it would take you

before you signed on
to a job?

I could get a job right off.

I know I could.

It mightn't be good
or anything,

but I know I could.

Let's all go in
and have our supper.

Do you have any idea
of what it would take?

You can't start an enterprise

without a little money
in your jeans.

$18, maybe.

Now, I tell you what I'll do.

You graduate
from high school,

and I'll set you up
for two weeks

at this Three Arts Club.

Plus which I'll see
if I can dig up $50

to let you have.

You know, acting
or navigating,

the rule is just the same...

Start with some
money in your jeans.

Oh, Clinton,
you're a splendid man.

I don't care a thing
about that old valentine.

Ruth, you've got
a splendid father.

Papa, I wouldn't take $50.

That would just be wasteful.

I know more about
the world than you do.

I run away from the people

who were in charge
of bringing me up.

They was awful people.

The only one I ever met

was your old cousin Hartwell.

They was awful people!

They worked me long and hard.

Then when I went
against their will,

they locked me in the woodshed,
or they beat me.

Then they went to church
three times on sunday.

Christmas I was 8 years old,

they wrapped up my good suit
that I'd been wearing all winter

and hung it on the sunday
school christmas tree.

Clinton.

I been to the Fijl Islands.

I got along with them people
all right.

I been up in the Baltic!

I seen men catch fish
with their bare hands

and eat them raw.

They was pleasant-spoken,
agreeable sort of people.

I eat many a bowl of rice
with the heathen Chinese.

But from one end of the world
to the other,

I never seen nothing to equal
those long-eared hypocrites,

those great-aunts of mine...

Erathusa and Retire Bassett
of Dorset, Mass.

Well, so that Christmas
when I was 8,

I ran up to New Bedford,
and I signed on as a cabin boy

on a vessel
with a cargo of whale oil

bound for Barcelona.

I didn't care much
where she was bound for.

Anything seemed better

than going back with
Retire and Erathusa Bassett,

who was in charge
of bringing me up.

If only your mother
had been alive,

everything would
have been different.

Well, she wasn't alive.

My mother wasn't alive

because she killed herself
in a Boston boardinghouse.

I was 2 years old.

My father run away.

Clinton.

I guess there wasn't much else
my mother could do.

Wasn't trained for no kind
of labor or nothing.

Small child to look after.

And she knew how mean
them people were.

I guess rather than
go back there, she...

well, she done what she done.

Gee, Papa.

Your poor mother.

Clinton, you never told me.

No. Now you know why I never
see none of my folks

and I don't
want to talk about them.

I'll be bitter about them
if I live to be 100.

They was awful people.

Till the day I die,
I'll be bitter about them!

So when the time comes

for my daughter
to go out in the world,

I'd like to kind of grease
the way for her...

about $50 worth.

Oh, Papa!

The only thing, I don't know

where in the name
of fried parsnips

this money's
going to come from.

You'll get it, Clinton.

Just you believe you will.

Of course there's
always my bonus,

due the first week
in July. That's $100.

We could maybe carve
out half of that...

That is, of course,

if they'll advance it to me.

Do you know what $50 means

to your father and I, Ruth?

In my whole life,
I've never seen

$50 all together,
not even once.

Oh, Mama.

But money isn't everything.

All we really need is faith.

Well, you and Ruth grapple
with the faith end,

and I'll tackle
old W. K. Cottington.

Faith is a great thing,
all right,

but I never been
in no situation yet

where having a little money
made things any worse.

Be careful.

Don't hurt yourself.

See you later, Katherine.

All right. Come on.

Hey, you look like

some kind of a suffragette
or something,

hauling trunks around. Here.

Thanks.

What's the address of
this Three Arts Club?

340 West 85th Street,
New York City.

My room is number 61.

It's reserved
beginning today.

In New York City,

there's a room waiting for me

to just unlock the door
and walk in.

I didn't ask anyone
else to Class Day.

If you liked me
enough, you'd stay.

I could if I let me,
but I can't let me.

Aren't you ever going to
get interested in a fella?

Not unless they live
in New York City

or just outside.

But how could you help it?

Because I'm never again
going to let myself.

You see, Fred,
because if I did,

then I myself might not
want to be an actress.

That's why,

excepting games of
Post Office, of course,

I'll never kiss anybody,

but if I do, it'll
either be Post Office

or the fella has to live
in New York City.

Or just outside.

Well, I'll write you.

All right.

I'll think about you
Class Day.

I'll write you
how it comes out.

Fine.

And you can write me anytime.

All right.

Well... good-bye.

Oh, dear.
Good-byes are sad.

Maybe she won't
stay forever, Fred.

People change their minds.

Oh, Mama.

Oh, I know you're different.

I was just saying
to Fred about people.

Couldn't you at least let me
run you over to the station?

No, Fred. No.

It would only make it worse.

Good-bye.

Oh, dear.

He's such a nice boy.

With any encouragement
at all, he...

Where do you suppose Papa is?

He'll be here,

so you go upstairs
and start getting ready.

Punk,

what on earth makes you enjoy
eating Boston Fern?

Clinton, where have you been?

Ruth's up getting dressed.

Tell her to heave to.

What?

Tell her to never mind
getting dressed.

She's got to get dressed

if she's going
to New York City,

doesn't she?

No, she don't.

Will you please tell me
why she doesn't?

Because she ain't going.

Tell her she better hyper
down to the railroad station

and get the money
back on the ticket.

Clinton!

What on earth do you
mean Ruth isn't going?

I can't afford to send her.
That's what I mean.

Can't afford to send
nobody to be an actress,

because at the moment
I haven't got a job.

How could this happen to us?

I launched out against
old Cottington

about his lollygagging bonus.

Oh, dear.
Oh, dear.

And he says to me, kind
of real snippy-like,

he says, "just how
do you propose

to remedy
this situation?"

I said, "just give me
what's due me.

"Don't do me
no lollygagging favors.

"Instead of handing me
100 simoleons

at the end
of the fiscal year,

"give it to me in the form

of a $2.00 weekly
increase.

"Then it's mine,
and I know I got it,

and we can stop all
this worry and palaver."

You mean he went
and fired you

just because you asked for
something you were entitled to?

I didn't give him time
to fire me.

I fired myself.

He says, "you mean
you don't wish

to continue as you have
the last 24 years?"

I said, "that's right,"
and he said...

I was a little
surprised myself.

Couldn't you just been
a little more tactful?

Let him be tactful for once!

Ruth's $50!

Well, can't afford it now.

She'll have to go
some other time.

Clinton, I...

Well, I can't
stretch the money

if I haven't got the money
to stretch, can i?

Maybe...

Mama! Mama, where are you?

Look at me!

I'm practically
an actress already.

Child...

Oh, Mama, don't
be sad. Be proud!

Clinton, wouldn't
you just let me

go and sew for people?

I could make more than $50!

Papa, what's the matter?

You can't go,

so hyper out of them duds
and stow your gear.

Can't go?

Not today.

But why can't I?

Because I haven't got
the dough-re-mi.

But you said
you could give it to me.

Yes, but now I say
I can't give it to you.

Get down to
the railroad station,

get your money back
before it's too late.

I will not take
my ticket back!

You said I could
be an actress,

and I'm going!

You haven't got any money.
You can't...

I can so!
I won't need any money.

You paid my room
at the Three Arts Club

with two weeks' advance,

and I'll go like
I said I would go.

I... I got to!

If I don't go today,

then I'll bet I'll never go,

and if I let
one thing stop me,

it'll be another
and another and another,

and I'll never, never, nev...

Papa, you...

You gave me your word.

Ruth, Papa had it out
with Mr. Cottington.

He lost his position.

Papa, how can that be?

Couldn't kowtow no longer
for what is mine by rights.

Couldn't bend
the knee no lower.

I don't know what I've done
with my handkerchief.

Ruth, get me a doily.

Fanny May Jackson
embroidered me that.

I never like to use it.

Use it, Mama.
It ain't nothing

to the ones I'm
going to buy you.

I got $2.40 of my money
and my railroad ticket,

so I'll just get a job sooner

so's I can look
after you and Mama.

Oh, Clinton,

she can't go be
an actress on $2.40.

I can so! Where's
my box of lunch?

Clinton, would you let me

give her my engagement ring?

Do let me, please.

I gave you that to keep.

She could get
some money for it.

Mama, you mean
go in a pawn shop?

I'd rather be dead.

If you're going to
be an actress,

you'll be in and out of
a pawn shop all your life.

I'll go see every
single manager in New York City.

I'll go see them beginning
at 6:00 in the morning.

You got plenty of sand.

I'll say that for you.

I got anything
I want to have,

but I won't have
anything at all

if trouble makes me
go and give up.

Why, to actresses,
it's even a help.

I bet I'd even learn
to welcome trouble.

I bet I could
actually enjoy it.

Now, hold on.

There ain't no call
to render a solo

on the beauties
of being in the soup.

On the other hand,
if it's gumption

that it takes
to be an actress,

you certainly got
that, all right.

I know what's going
on inside you, snuggy.

Your mother says
you're like me.

I guess maybe,

for better or
for worse, you are.

I don't think
you got any idea

what you're tackling,

but I'm willing to
help you find out.

I always staked you
in the past.

I'm willing to continue
along the same.

Clinton, what are you
going to do?

Going to wrap this
up in a newspaper,

if I can find a good one.

Get me the Boston globe.

Now, snuggy, when
you get to New York,

you take this to
Captain Alec Forbes,

555 South Street,

and he'll give you
$100 for it.

Papa, I...

and if Captain Forbes

happens to be away
on a voyage,

you take it to
any ship's chanter

along that street.

Ain't one of them

won't give you 100
for it, spot cash.

Papa, I can't take it.
I wouldn't.

It's your spyglass.

Money is for
those who need it.

I got no further use
for a spyglass.

But I know I can get a loan.

Ah, don't be
bousing your jib.

You may love
your Hazel Dawns,

but you know money

is an ever-loving
friend, too.

But what about you and Mama

if maybe I didn't
get a job right off?

Rest easy, now.

I been on the payroll
since I was 8 years old.

I been cast overboard before.

Ain't like I was
trying to get a job

as Vice President, you know.

There's always plenty
of room at the bottom.

Oh, Papa, I want only merely

just to look after
you and Mama,

but we'll have things,

and every time
we feel like it,

we'll throw away $50.

When I was a little girl,

there were just
three things I wanted...

a pony, a gold watch and chain,
and a velvet dress.

I got the pony,

and Papa got me
the gold watch and chain.

I feel sure someday you'll
get me the velvet dress.

I will, Mama. I will.

All right, now.
It's time to go.

Ruth, you got
your handkerchief

and your railroad ticket?

Papa will take your suitcase.

You take it, Clinton,
and I'll take her lunch.

Tomorrow morning
in New York City,

I'll be eating
bread you made me

and peanut butter from
old Backus' groceries.

Backus! Why didn't it come
from S.S. Purse?

Oh, Clinton.

Ruth, you take
Fred Whitmarsh's carnations

and... and Papa's
spyglass.

I ain't never talked to you
a whole lot, snuggy,

and I ain't gonna start
spouting now,

but if I didn't think you
could take care of yourself,

I wouldn't let you go.

I ain't gonna set down
no rules for you to follow

or no special chart
for your course.

There's just one thing
I'd like you to promise me.

No matter
what happens, snuggy,

don't ever act in no place
where they sell hard liquor.

Oh, Papa, no matter
if it kills me,

I'll make this up
to you and Mama.

I'll make good.
You see if I don't.

It's a wonderful thing, Ruth,

to have a father

that believes
in you $100 worth.

I'll make it up to
you somehow, Papa.

Ah, no need to doff your top
and feel beholden.

You're just getting
what's yours by right.

You're just getting your chance,
that's all.

On your side of the ledger,

if now and then you think
kindly of your ma and me,

why, everything
will come out square.

Come on, now.
Heave anchor.