All right, Charlie.
- That the joint? Who runs it? - I already told you.
- Refresh my memory. - Spats Colombo.
- What's the password? - "I've come to Grandma's funeral."
- Your admission card. - Thanks, Charlie.
If you want a ringside table, just say you're a pallbearer.
We're all set. When's the kickoff?
I'd better blow. If Colombo sees me, it's goodbye, Charlie.
Goodbye, Charlie.
Give me five minutes, then hit 'em with everything you got.
You betcha.
Good evening, sir.
- I'm Mr Mozarella. What can I do for you? - I've come to the old lady's funeral.
I haven't seen you at our services before.
- No, I've been on the wagon. - Please.
Where is the wake? I'm one of the pallbearers.
Show the gentleman into the chapel. Pew number three.
Yes, Mr Mozarella. This way, sir.
Well, if you gotta go, that's the way to do it.
Follow me, please.
- What'll it be, sir? - Booze.
- Sorry. We only serve coffee. - Coffee?
Scotch coffee, Canadian coffee, sour mash coffee...
Scotch. Make it a demitasse, with soda on the side.
Wait a minute. Haven't you got a pew not so close to the band?
How about that one over there?
Sorry, but that's reserved for members of the immediate family.
Oops.
Hey, I want another cup of coffee.
I want another cup of coffee.
Better bring a check in case the joint is raided.
- Who's gonna raid a funeral? - Some people don't respect the dead.
Say, Joe. Tonight's the night, isn't it?
- I'll say. - No, tonight we get paid.
- Why? - I've got to see a dentist tomorrow.
You wanna blow your first week's pay on your teeth?
Just a filling. Doesn't have to be gold.
How can you be so selfish? We owe rent. We owe $89 to Moe's Delicatessen.
The Chinese laundry is suing us. We owe money to every girl in the line.
You're right. Tomorrow we'll pay everyone something on account.
No. Tomorrow we go to the dog track and bet it all on Greased Lightning.
- You'd bet my money on a dog? - He's a shoo-in.
Max the waiter knows the electrician that wires the rabbit.
- What are you givin' me with a rabbit? - The odds are 10 to 1.
- Suppose he loses. - Why worry? This job'll last a long time.
- Suppose it doesn't. - Jerry boy, why paint everything black?
Suppose you got hit by a truck. Suppose the stock market crashes.
Suppose Mary Pickford divorces Douglas Fairbanks.
Suppose the Dodgers leave Brooklyn.
Suppose Lake Michigan overflows.
Well, don't look now, but the whole town is underwater.
Four,
three,
two,
one.
All right, everybody. This is a raid.
I'm a federal agent. You're all under arrest.
I want another cup of coffee.
All right, Spats.
- The services are over. Let's go. - Go where?
A country club for retired bootleggers. I'm puttin' you up for membership.
- I don't join nothin'. - Oh, you'll like it there.
I'll get the prison tailor to fit you with a pair of special spats - striped.
Big joke. What's the rap this time?
Embalming people with coffee. 86 proof.
Me? I'm just a customer.
Oh, come on, Spats. We know you own the joint. Mozarella's just frontin' for you.
- Mozarella? Never heard of him. - We got different information.
From who? Toothpick Charlie maybe?
Toothpick Charlie? Never heard of him.
Buttermilk.
Too smart to drink your own stuff, huh?
Come on. On your feet.
- You're wastin' the taxpayers' money. - Call your lawyer if you wanna.
These are my lawyers. All Harvard men.
I wan' another cuppa coffee.
That solves one problem. Now we don't have to worry about who to pay first.
- Quiet. I'm thinking. - The landlady will lock us out.
At Moe's Deli no more knockwurst on credit.
We can't borrow from the girls - they're on the way to jail.
I wonder how much Sam the bookie will give us for our overcoats.
Sam the bookie? Nothin' doin'. You're not puttin' my overcoat on a dog.
- Jerry, I told you, it's a sure thing. - We will freeze.
It is below zero. We'll get pneumonia.
Look, stupid, he's 10-1. Tomorrow we'll have 20 overcoats.
Greased Lightning.
- I oughta have my head examined. - I thought you weren't talkin' to me.
The bull fiddle's dressed warmer than I am.
- Anything today? - Nothing.
Thank you.
- Anything today? - Nothing.
Thank you.
I can't go on, Joe. I'm weak from hunger, I got a fever, I got a hole in my shoe...
If you gave me a chance, we could be living like kings.
- How? - There's a dog running in the third.
Galloping Ghost. He's 15-1 and it's his kind of a track. He's a real mudder.
What do you want from me? My head on a plate?
No, your bass. If we hock that and my sax...
Are you crazy? We're up the creek and you wanna hock the paddle.
All right, go ahead and starve. What do I care? Freeze.
- Anything today? - Oh, it's you.
Well, you've got a lot of nerve.
Thank you.
Joe. Come back here.
Nellie, baby, if it's about Saturday night, I can explain.
What a heel. I spend $4 to get my hair marcelled,
I buy me a brand-new negligee,
I bake him a great big pizza pie.
- And where were you? - Where were you?
- With you. - Me?
Remember? You had this bad tooth.
It was impacted. His jaw was swoll out.
It was?
Oh, yeah.
- I took him for a blood transfusion. - We have the same type blood.
- Type O. - Oh?
- I'll make it up to you. - You're makin' it up pretty good so far.
As soon as we get a job, I'll take you to the swellest restaurant in town.
How about it? Has Poliakoff got anything for us? We're desperate.
Well, it just so happens he is looking for a bass.
And a sax.
Right?
Right.
- What's the job? - Three weeks in Florida.
At the Seminole-Ritz in Miami. Transportation and expenses all paid.
Isn't she a bit of terrific? Let's see Poliakoff.
- He's busy. You'll have to wait, boys. - All right, we'll wait.
Look, Gladys, it's three weeks in Florida.
Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators.
They need a couple of girls on sax and bass.
Whaddaya mean, who is it? It's Poliakoff. I got a job for ya.
Gladys. Are ya there?
Gladys!
Meshugeneh. Played 112 hours at a marathon dance.
- Now she's in bed with nervous collapse. - Tell her to move over.
And Cora Jackson?
Last I heard, she was playin' with the Salvation Army.
Drexel 9044.
Those idiot broads.
Here we are, packed and ready to leave for Miami, and what happens?
The sax runs off with a Bible salesman and the bass gets pregnant.
Bienstock, I oughta fire you.
Me? I'm the manager, not the night watchman.
Hello. Let me talk to Bessie Malone.
What's she doing in Philadelphia?
On the level?
Bessie let her hair grow and is playing with Stokowski.
- Black Bottom Bessie? - Schpielt zich mit der Philharmonic.
How about Rosemary Schultz?
Slashed her wrists when Valentino died.
We might as well do the same if we don't find two dames by tonight.
We don't care where you find them. Just get them on that train by 8 o'clock.
The moment anything turns up, I'll give you a tinkle.
Bye, Sig. I wonder if I've got room for another ulcer.
Nellie, get me long-distance.
- Sig, we wanna talk to you. - About the Florida job.
- Nellie told us about it. - Not too late, are we?
What are ya? Comedians? Get out.
The William Morris Agency in New York.
- You need a bass and a sax? - The instruments are right but you're not.
I wanna speak to Mr Morris.
- What's wrong with us? - You're the wrong shape.
- What do you want? Hunchbacks? - It's not the backs that worry me.
What kind of a band is it?
- You gotta be under 25. - We could pass for that.
- And blond. - We could dye our hair.
And you gotta be girls.
No, we couldn't.
- Mr William Morris. - You mean this is a girls' band?
Yeah. Good old Nellie. I could wring her neck.
Let's talk this over. Why couldn't we do it?
When we worked in the gypsy tearoom, we wore gold earrings.
When you booked us with the Hawaiian band, we wore grass skirts.
- What's with him? He drinks? - No, he ain't eatin' so good.
His empty stomach has gone to his head.
Joe, three weeks in Florida. We could borrow clothes from the chorus girls.
- You've flipped your wig. - Now you're talking.
We get second-hand wigs, a little padding.
We call ourselves Josephine and Geraldine.
Josephine and Geraldine... Come on.
If you wanna pick up a little money tonight,
at the University of Illinois they're havin' a St Valentine's dance.
We'll take it.
$6 a man. Be on the campus at Urbana at 8 o'clock.
All the way to Urbana for a one-night stand?
It's $12. We can get one of the overcoats out of hock.
Hello. Mr Morris? This is Poliakoff in Chicago.
You don't have two girl musicians available, do you?
A sax player and a bass?
- If William Morris doesn't come through... - Come on, Geraldine.
It's 100 miles. It's snowin' outside. How do we get there?
- I'll find something. - Like what?
Don't crowd me.
- How'd it go, girls? - I oughta wring your neck.
Please, Jerry. That's no way to talk.
Nellie baby, what are you doin' tonight?
- Tonight? Why? - Cos I've got some plans.
- I'm not doing anything. - Really?
I just thought I'd go home and have some cold pizza.
Then you'll be in all evening?
Yes, Joe.
Good. Then you won't be needing your car.
My car? Why, you...
Isn't he a bit of terrific?
We coulda had three weeks in Florida, all expenses paid.
Lyin' in the sun, palm trees, flyin' fish...
Knock it off, will ya?
Possible straight, possible nothing, and a pair of eights.
All right, drop 'em, you guys.
- Drop what? - We came for a car.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah. Nellie Weinmeyer's car.
Musicians.
Wise guys.
OK, let's go. Aces bet.
It's a '25 Hupmobile, green, coupe... sir.
- It's over here. - Yeah, over here.
- Want some gas? - Yeah, about 40 cents' worth, please.
- Put it on Miss Weinmeyer's bill? - Yeah. Why not?
And while you're at it, fill it up.
All right, everybody. Hands up.
Face the wall.
You too, Toothpick.
Come on.
Hey. Join us.
OK, boss.
Hello, Charlie. Long time no see.
- Spats, what are you doin' here? - I just dropped in to pay my respects.
- You don't owe me nothin'. - I wouldn't say that.
You recommended my mortuary to your friends.
- I don't know what you mean. - Now I got all those coffins on my hands.
- I hate to see 'em go to waste. - I had nothin' to do with it.
Too bad, Charlie. You woulda had three eights.
- Goodbye, Charlie. - No, Spats, no.
No, Spats. Please, no.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
All right, come on outta there.
Come on.
- We didn't see anything. Did we? - What? No. Not a thing.
Besides, it's none of our business if you guys wanna bump each other off.
Say... Don't I know you two from somewhere?
Oh, no. We're just a couple of musicians.
We came to pick up a car. Nellie Weinmeyer's car.
There's a dance tonight.
- Come on, Jerry. - Wait a minute.
- Where do you think you're goin'? - Urbana. It's about 100 miles from here...
You're not goin' nowhere.
- We're not? - I don't like no witnesses.
- We won't breathe a word. - You won't breathe nothin'.
Not even air.
All right, boys, let's blow out of here. We'll take care of those guys later.
I think they got me.
- They got the bull fiddle. - No blood?
If they catch us, there'll be blood all over. Type O. Come on.
- Where are you running? - As far away as possible.
It's not far enough. Those guys know us. Every hood in Chicago will be after us.
Quick, gimme a nickel.
You're gonna call the police?
We'd never live to testify against Spats Colombo.
We gotta get out of town. We could grow beards.
We will get out of town, but we're gonna shave.
At a time like this? They wanna blast our heads off, and you wanna shave.
- Shave our legs, stupid. - Shave our legs...?
Hello. Mr Poliakoff?
I understand you're looking for a couple of girl musicians.
Florida Limited leaving on track one for Washington,
Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville and Miami.
All aboard.
What now?
How do they keep their balance in these things?
Must be the way the weight is distributed. Now come on.
It is so draughty.
They must catch cold all the time.
- Quit stalling. We'll miss the train. - I feel naked.
- I feel like everybody's starin' at me. - With those legs? Are you crazy?
It's no use. We're not gonna get away with it, Joe.
My name is Josephine, and this was your idea in the first place.
Look at that. Look how she moves.
That's just like Jell-O on springs.
They must have some sort of built-in motor or something.
I tell ya, it's a whole different sex.
Nobody's asking you to have a baby.
As soon as we're in Florida we'll blow this whole setup.
You will not talk me into...
Extra. Extra. Seven slaughtered in North Side garage.
Fear of bloody aftermath. Extra. Extra.
- You talked me into it. Let's go. - Attagirl, Geraldine.
- Rosella. - Fiddle.
- Move along, Dolores. - Trombone.
- Hey, Olga, how's your back? - Trumpet.
- Here we are. - Are you two from the Poliakoff Agency?
- Yes. We're the new girls. - Brand new.
This is our manager, Mr Bienstock. And I'm Sweet Sue.
My name is Josephine.
I'm Daphne.
Saxophone, bass. Am I glad to see you girls. You saved our lives.
Likewise, I'm sure.
Where did you girls play before?
Here, there and... around, and...
We spent three years at the Sheboygan Conservatory of Music.
All aboard.
You're in berths 7 and 7A.
7 and 7A.
- Thanks ever so. - You're welcome.
Oh. The feeling's mutual.
- Upsy-daisy. - Fresh.
Looks like Poliakoff sent a couple of real ladies.
You'd better tell the other girls to watch their language.
What are you...?
Daphne?
I never did like the name Geraldine.
Hi. I'm the bass fiddle. Just call me Daphne.
My name is Josephine. Sax.
- Welcome to No Man's Land. - You'll be sorry.
- Take off your corsets and spread out. - Oh, I don't wear one myself.
- Don't you bulge? - Bulge? Me?
I have the most divine seamstress. Comes in just once a month.
- She is so inexpensive and she told... - Come on, Daphne.
Say, do you know the one about the girl tuba player
who was stranded on an island with a one-legged jockey?
- No. How does it go? - Cut it out, girls. No rough talk.
They went to a conservatory.
How about that talent, huh?
- Like fallin' into a tub of butter. - Watch it, Daphne.
When I was a kid, Joe, I dreamed I was locked up overnight in a pastry shop.
And there was goodies all around.
Jelly rolls, mocha éclairs and Boston cream pie and cherry tarts...
Listen to me: no butter, no pastry. We're on a diet.
Yeah, sure, Joe.
Not there. That's the emergency brake.
Now you've done it.
- Done what? - You tore off one of my chests.
- You'd better go get it fixed. - You'd better come help me.
This way, Daphne.
Now you tore the other one.
Terribly sorry.
It's OK. I was scared it was Sweet Sue.
- You won't tell anybody, will you? - Tell what?
If they catch me once more, they'll kick me out of the band.
Are you the replacement for the bass and sax?
That's us. And I'm Daphne.
This is Joe... sephine.
Come in.
I'm Sugar Cane.
- Sugar Cane? - I changed it from Sugar Kowalczyk.
- Polish? - Yes. I come from this musical family.
My mother's a piano teacher. My father was a conductor.
- Where did he conduct? - On the Baltimore and Ohio.
I play the ukulele, and I sing, too.
I don't have much of a voice, but this isn't much of a band, either.
I'm only with them cos I'm running away.
- Running away from what? - Oh, don't get me started on that.
Hey, you want some? It's bourbon.
I'll take a rain check.
I don't want you to think I'm a drinker. I can stop if I want to, only I don't want to.
- Especially when I'm blue. - We understand.
All the girls drink. But I'm the one that gets caught. Story of my life.
I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.
Are my seams straight?
I'll say.
- See you around, girls. - Bye, Sugar.
We have been playing with the wrong bands.
- Down, Daphne. - See the shape of that liquor cabinet?
Forget it. One false move and we're off the train.
Then it's the police, the papers and the Mob in Chicago.
Boy, would I love to borrow a cup of that Sugar.
Look...
No pastry, no butter - and no Sugar.
You tore 'em again.
Hey, Sheboygan. What was your last job? Playing square dances?
No. Funerals.
Would you mind rejoining the living? Goose it up a little.
We'll try.
How did those holes get there?
Those?
I don't know.
Mice?
All right, girls. Let's take it from the top. And put a little heat under it.
Bienstock!
Yes, Sue?
I thought I made it clear that I don't want any drinking in this outfit.
All right, girls. Who does this belong to?
Come on, now. Speak up.
- Sugar, I warned you... - Please, Mr Bienstock.
I've had it. In Kansas you smuggled liquor in a shampoo bottle.
Before that you had a pint in your ukelele...
Mr Bienstock, could I have my flask?
Sure. Pack your things. At the next station... Your flask?
Yes. Just a little bourbon. Must have slipped through.
Give me that.
Didn't you girls say you went to a conservatory?
- Oh, yes. For a whole year. - I thought you said three years.
We got time off for good behaviour.
There are two things I will not put up with during working hours: liquor and men.
- Men? - Don't worry about that.
We wouldn't be caught dead with men.
Rough, hairy beasts with eight hands.
And they all just want one thing from a girl.
I beg your pardon, miss.
All right, girls. From the top again.
- Hortense, dear, good night. - Good night, Daphne.
- Maude, sweet dreams. - Good night, Daphne.
Good night, Gloria.
Dolores, you sleep tight, you hear?
- Nighty-night, Emily. - Toodle-oo.
How about that "toodle-oo".
Steady, boy. Just keep tellin' yourself you're a girl.
- I'm a girl. - You're a girl.
I'm a girl. I'm a girl.
I'm a...
Get a load of that rhythm section.
I'm a girl.
I'm a girl. I'm a girl.
I'm a girl.
Good night, Sugar.
Good night, honey.
Honey? Hey, she called me "honey".
Ooh, honey.
- What are you doin'? - Just makin' sure honey stays in her hive.
There'll be no buzzin' around tonight.
Supposin' I gotta go... Iike for a drink of water or something.
- Fight it. - Well, suppose I lose.
- Suppose it's an emergency. - Pull the emergency brake.
Hey, Bienstock. You know, there's something funny about those new girls.
- Funny? ln what way? - I don't know, but I can feel it right here.
Having an ulcer is like having a burglar alarm go off inside you.
You watch your ulcers, I'll watch those two.
OK, everybody go to bed. Good night, girls.
- Good night, Daphne. - Good night, Josephine.
I'm a girl. I'm a girl.
I wish I were dead.
I'm a girl... I'm a girl... I'm a girl...
Daphne.
Sugar.
I wanted to thank you for covering up for me. You're a real pal.
It's nothing.
I just thought that us girls should stick together.
If it wasn't for you, they'd have kicked me off the train.
I'd be out in the middle of nowhere, sitting on my ukulele.
It's freezing outside.
I mean, when I think about you and your poor ukulele...
If there's ever anything I can do for you...
I can think of a million things.
That's one of 'em.
It's Sweet Sue.
I don't want her to know we're in cahoots.
Oh, well, we won't tell anybody. Not even Josephine.
Maybe I'd better stay here till she goes back to sleep.
You stay here as long as you like.
I'm not crowding you, am l?
No. It's nice and cosy.
When I was a little girl, on cold nights like this, I'd crawl into bed with my sister.
We'd cuddle up under the covers and pretend we were lost in a dark cave
and were trying to find our way out.
Very interesting.
- Anything wrong? - No, no. Not a thing.
You poor thing. You're trembling all over.
That's ridiculous.
- Your head's hot. - That's ridiculous.
- You've got cold feet. - Isn't that ridiculous?
Here, let me warm them up a little.
- There. Isn't that better? - Yes. I'm a girl... I'm a girl...
- What? - I'm a very sick girl.
- I'd better go before I catch something. - Not that sick.
I've got very low resistance.
Sugar, if you feel you're coming down with something, my dear,
the best thing in the world is a shot of whiskey.
- You've got some? - I know where to get it.
Don't move.
- Hold on. - OK.
Up. Up.
- Are you all right? - I'm fine.
- How's the bottle? - Half-full.
- You'd better get some cups. - Cups?
Oh, I tell you, my dear, this is the only way to travel.
Put on the lights. I can't see what I'm doing.
No lights. We don't want them to know.
- But I might spill some. - So spill it.
Spills, thrills, laughs and games.
This may even turn out to be a surprise party.
- What's the surprise? - Not yet.
- When? - Better have a drink first.
That'll put hair on your chest.
No fair guessing.
Is this a private clambake?
It's private. Please, go away.
Dolores, do you still have that vermouth?
- Sure. - Who needs vermouth?
We've got bourbon. We can make Manhattans.
Manhattans? At this time of night?
- Bring the cocktail shaker. - Oh, Sugar.
You're gonna spoil my surprise.
- Hey, honey, what's up? - Party in upper 7.
- I'll get cheese and crackers. - I'll get a shaker, you get a corkscrew.
Hey, Rosella, there's a party in upper 7.
- You got a corkscrew? - Stella has.
Go get some paper cups.
Hey, there's a party in upper 7.
- Here's the vermouth. - This is a private party. Please go away.
I brought some cheese and crackers.
- Will ten cups be enough? - This is a party for two. Ten cups?
- Please, girls. Will you stop this? - Could you use some Southern Comfort?
Girls, you'll wake up the neighbours downstairs.
Watch that corkscrew.
- Here's a cracker. - No crackers in bed.
Will you girls go away and form your own party?
Here's the cocktail shaker.
- I wish we had ice. - Easy on the vermouth.
13 girls in a berth is bad luck. 12 of you will have to get out.
- Pass me the peanut butter. - Anyone for salami?
No more food. I'll have ants in the morning.
Hey. Have you got any maraschino cherries on you?
Never mind.
Maraschino cherries?
What's going on here?
Daphne. Daphne, where are you?
It's not my fault. I didn't invite 'em.
Come on, girls, break it up.
You heard Josephine. Girls. Everybody out.
- Not you, Sugar. - I'm going to get some ice.
Get out.
That's right, Sugar. Now the rest of you. Out.
- Come on in. The water's fine. - Have a Manhattan.
- Pipe down. We'll all be fired. - Sugar. Don't leave me here alone.
Come on, kids. It's two o'clock.
You've had your fun. The party's over. Everybody go home.
- What's this? - Josephine, over here before it melts.
Put it here.
Sugar, you're gonna get into a lot of trouble.
You'd better keep a lookout.
If Bienstock catches you again...
What's the matter with you, anyway?
I'm not very bright, I guess.
I wouldn't say that. Careless, maybe.
No, just dumb. If I had any brains, I wouldn't be with this crummy girls' band.
Well, why'd you take this job?
I used to sing with male bands, but I can't afford it any more.
Have you ever been with a male band?
Who, me?
That's what I'm running away from.
I worked with six in the last two years. Oh, brother.
- Rough? - I'll say.
- You can't trust those guys. - I can't trust myself.
I have this thing about saxophone players.
Especially tenor sax.
- Really? - I don't know why, but they curdle me.
All they have to do is play eight bars of "Come To Me, My Melancholy Baby"
and I get goose-pimply all over, and I come to 'em.
- That so? - Every time.
You know, I play tenor sax.
But you're a girl - thank goodness. That's why I joined this band.
Safety first. Anything to get away from those bums.
You don't know what they're like. You fall for 'em.
You think this is gonna be the biggest thing since the Graf Zeppelin.
The next thing you know, they're borrowing money from you,
spending it on other dames and betting on horses.
You don't say.
Then one morning you wake up, the guy's gone, the sax's gone.
All that's left is a pair of old socks and a tube of toothpaste all squeezed out.
You pull yourself together, you go on to the next job, the next saxophone player.
It's the same thing all over again.
You see what I mean? Not very bright.
Brains aren't everything.
I can tell you one thing. It's not gonna happen to me again - ever.
I'm tired of getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop.
Ice. What's keeping the ice? The natives are getting restless.
- How about a couple of drinks for us? - Sure.
- You know, I'm gonna be 25 in June. - You are?
That's a quarter of a century. Makes a girl think.
- About what? - The future.
You know - Iike a husband. That's why I'm glad we're going to Florida.
- What's in Florida? - Millionaires. Flocks of them.
They all go south for the winter, like birds.
- Gonna catch yourself a rich bird? - I don't care how rich he is.
As long as he has a yacht, a private railroad car and his own toothpaste.
- You're entitled. - Maybe you'll meet one too, Josephine.
With money like Rockefeller and shoulders like Johnny Weissmuller.
- I want mine to wear glasses. - Glasses?
Men who wear glasses are so much more gentle and sweet and helpless.
- Haven't you ever noticed it? - Yeah, now that you mention.
They get those weak eyes from reading.
Those long, tiny little columns in The Wall Street Journal.
That bass fiddle, she sure knows how to throw a party.
Hot-diggety-dog.
Well, happy days.
I hope this time you wind up with the sweet end of the lollipop.
So the one-legged jockey said...
What did he say?
So the one-legged jockey said: "Don't worry about me, baby. I ride side-saddle."
I'm terribly sorry. I seem to have hiccups.
Hey, let's rub some ice on her neck.
I think... Ow. You dropped it.
Oh, that's cold.
- Oh, no, please. Don't do that. - She's ticklish.
Help. Please. Help. Help.
Josephine.
Please stop that. Stop that.
- What happened? - Search me.
I mean, I'll see.
All right, what's goin' on around here?
Bienstock!
Are we in Florida?
Sugar?
Here. I'll carry the instruments.
- Thank you, Daphne. - Thank you, Daphne.
Isn't she a sweetheart?
How do you do?
Zowie!
There they are. More millionaires than you can shake a stick at.
I bet there isn't one under 75.
That's three quarters of a century. Makes a girl think.
Let's hope they brought their grandsons along.
Yes.
Pardon me, miss.
- May l? - Help yourself.
I'm Osgood Fielding the Third.
I'm Cinderella the Second.
If there's one thing I admire, it's a girl with a shapely ankle.
Me, too. Bye-bye.
- Let me carry one of the instruments. - Oh, thank you.
Aren't you a sweetheart.
It certainly is delightful having young blood around here.
Personally, I'm type O.
I've always been fascinated by show business.
Is that so?
As a matter of fact, it's cost my family quite a bit of money.
- Oh, you invest in shows? - Showgirls.
- I've been married seven or eight times. - You're not sure?
Mama is keeping score.
- She's getting annoyed with me. - I wouldn't wonder.
So when George White's Scandals opened, she packed me off to Florida.
She thinks I'm out on my yacht, deep-sea fishing.
Well, pull in your reel, Mr Fielding. You're barking up the wrong fish.
If I promise not to be a naughty boy, how about dinner?
- I'm sorry. I'll be on the bandstand. - Oh, of course.
- Which instrument do you play? - Bull fiddle.
Oh, fascinating.
Do you use a bow, or do you just pluck it?
Most of the time, I slap it.
You must be quite a girl.
Wanna bet?
My last wife was an acrobatic dancer. Sort of a contortionist.
She could smoke a cigarette while holding it between her toes.
Zowie!
- But Mama broke it up. - Why?
She doesn't approve of girls who smoke.
- Bye-bye, Mr Fielding. - Bye-bye?
- This is where I get off. - Oh, no. No, no, no.
You don't get off that easy.
All right, driver. Once around the park, slowly.
And keep your eyes on the road.
What kind of a girl do you think I am, Mr Fielding?
- Oh, please. It won't happen again. - I'll say.
- Please, come back. - I'll walk, thank you.
Please, miss...
Zowie!
All right, girls. Here are your room assignments.
My glasses. Where are my glasses?
Olga and Mary Lou are in 412.
And, Mary Lou, do up your kimono when you ring for room service.
Josephine and Daphne are in 413.
- Dolores and Sugar in 414. - Me and Sugar?
What did you expect? A one-legged jockey?
Rosella and Emily in 415...
- I wish they'd put us in the same room. - So do l.
But don't worry about it, Sugar. We'll see a lot of each other.
414... That's the same room number I had in Cincinnati,
my last time around with a male band.
What a heel he was.
- A saxophone player? - What else? Was I ever crazy about him.
At two in the morning he sent me down for hot dogs and potato salad.
They were out of potato salad, so I brought coleslaw.
- So he threw it right in my face. - Forget saxophone players.
You're gonna meet a millionaire - a young one.
- What makes you so sure? - My feminine intuition.
Oh. Are these your bags?
- And that one, too. - OK, doll.
- I suppose you want a tip. - Forget it, doll.
After all, you work here and I work here. It's nice to have you with the organisation.
- Bye-bye. - Listen, doll.
- What time do you get off tonight? - Why?
I'm workin' the night shift and I got a bottle of gin stashed away.
- When there's a lull... - Aren't you a little young for that, sonny?
Oh, you wanna see my driver's licence?
- Get lost, will you? - That's the way I like 'em - big and sassy.
Oh, and... get rid of your roommate.
- Dirty old man. - What happened?
- I got pinched in the elevator. - See how the other half lives?
I'm not even pretty.
They don't care. You're wearing a skirt. It's like waving a red flag to a bull.
I'm sick of being the flag. I wanna be a bull again.
- Let's blow. - Blow where?
You promised me that the minute we hit Florida we'd beat it.
- How can we? We're broke. - We can find another band. A male band.
Spats Colombo is looking for us in every male band in the country.
- It's humiliating. - So you got pinched. So what?
Would you rather be picking lead out of your navel?
But how long can we keep this up?
What's the beef? We're sittin' pretty.
Look. We get room and board. We're getting paid every week. Look.
Look at the palm trees, flying fish...
What are you givin' me with flyin' fish?
I know why you wanna stay. You're after Sugar.
- Me, after Sugar? - I saw the both of you in that bus.
All lovey-dovey and whisperin' and borrowin' each other's lipstick.
- What are you saying? Me and Sugar? - You and Sugar.
- We're just like sisters. - Well, I'm your fairy godmother.
And I'm gonna keep an eye on you.
Are you decent?
Come in.
You girls seen a brown bag with a white stripe and my initials?
It has all my resort clothes.
- No, we haven't. - I can't understand it.
First my glasses disappear, then one of my suitcases.
- Where's my ukulele? - Now a ukulele.
- There must be a sneak thief around here. - Oh. Here it is. Hi, Sug.
- We're going for a swim. Coming? - A swim. Oh, you betcha.
You haven't got a bathing suit.
I don't have one either.
- She doesn't have one either. You don't? - We can rent some at the bathhouse.
- How about you, Josephine? - I think I'll soak in a hot tub.
- On a day like this? It's lovely out. - Yeah, well, let her soak. Come on.
- Don't get burned, Daphne. - Oh, I've got suntan lotion.
See? She'll rub it on me, I'll rub it on her, we'll rub it on each other. Bye-bye.
Daphne. Cut it out. What do you think you're doing?
Just a little trick I picked up in the elevator.
Ooh, look out. Here comes a big one.
Daphne. I had no idea you were such a big girl.
You should've seen me before I went on a diet.
I mean your shoulders and your arms.
It's carrying that bull fiddle around.
- There's one thing I envy you for. - What's that?
You're so flat-chested.
Clothes hang better on you than they do on me.
Watch out, Daphne.
Sugar, come on. Let's play ball.
Junior, time for your nap.
No. I wanna play.
You heard your mother, Junior. Scram!
This beach ain't big enough for the both of us.
Mommy!
Here we go.
I like coffee, I like tea.
How many boys are stuck on me?
One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven...
I'm terribly sorry. You're not hurt, are you?
- I don't think so. - I wish you'd make sure.
Because when people find out who I am,
they hire a shyster lawyer and sue me for three quarters of a million dollars.
- I won't sue you, no matter who you are. - Thank you.
- Who are you? - Now, really!
Sugar!
Come on.
Honestly.