world to write about.
It's so simple.
You've got to catch it through details...
like the early morning sunlight hitting the gray tin
of the rainspot in front of her house.
The ringing of a telephone that sounds like Beethoven's Pastoral.
A letter scribbled on her office stationery...
that you carry in your pocket
because it smells of all the lilacs in Ohio.
Pour it, Nat!
He thinks he's cured.
If he could only get a job now,
they could be married and that's that.
But it's not Nat. Not quite.
Because one day, one terrible day.
Yeah? Go on.
You see, this girl's been writing to her people in Toledo.
They want to meet the young man.
So they come to New York.
They stay at the Hotel Manhattan.
Their very first day, she's to introduce him to her parents.
One o'clock. Lobby of the hotel...
Just walked in for a simple haircut.
No, that wasn't enough, not for New York.
They gave me a shampoo, scalp massage and a manicure.
Thought they were going to tear my shoes off
and paint my toenails.
I had a lovely morning.
Just did a little window shopping.
Didn't want to get all tired out.
On account of meeting that young man? Now, Mother.
Who did you get a haircut for?
- Wonder what's keeping Helen.
- She'll be here.
- This Birnam fellow went to Cornell, didn't he?
- I believe so.
But he never graduated. I wonder why.
- How old is he?
- Thirty-three.
He has no job. As far as I can find out, he never had one.
I wish Helen wasn't so vague.
Maybe he has a little money. Some people do, you know, Father.
- He ought to have a job anyway.
- He's a writer.
Writer? What did he write? I never heard of his name.
Now Father, relax. You always expect the worst.
I hope he realizes that Helen's our only daughter and
we ought to know a few things about him.
Those'll all come out...his background,
his prospects, his church affiliations.
Hotel Manhattan? Would you please page Miss Helen St. James?
St. James. Yeah, she's in the lobby.
Helen?...Don.
Darling, I'm terribly sorry
but I won't be able to get there for a while.
Will you please go ahead and have your lunch
and apologize to your parents...
Oh, nothing serious. I'll be there. Goodbye.
Turn off that light.
Don?
- Turn it off!
- For heaven's sake, Don.
I thought you were with Helen and her father and mother.
What happened?
Come on Don.
- I couldn't face it.
- Couldn't face what? Didn't you go to see them?
Certainly I went. One o'clock sharp. I saw them all right.
- Only they didn't see me.
- How was that?
Such nice, respectable people. I couldn't face them Wick...
and all the questions they'd ask me.
I just couldn't do it. Not cold.
I had to have a drink first. Just one.
Only the one didn't do anything to me.
So you had another and another. Oh, you poor idiot, Don.
Won't you ever learn with you,
it's like stepping off a roof
and expecting to fall just one floor?
Will you call her up Wick?
Tell her something. Tell her I'm sick.
Tell her I'm dead. Will you call?
Yes, I'll call.
You know she must have written them
a lot of nice things about me.
What a gentleman I am. A prince.
Which hotel is it?
The Manhattan. Mr. and Mrs. Charles St. James
of Toledo, Ohio.
Get up, Don.
Just a minute, Helen.
- Hello, Wick. Is Don here?
- Don? No.
Any idea where he could be?
Wasn't he meeting you?
Oh, he was supposed to meet us for lunch,
then he telephoned he'd be late.
Mother's beginning to think I just made him up.
- Do you suppose something happened to him?
- Nonsense.
"Oh. But surely he'd have called back
if her were all right."
- Where did he call you from?
- I don't know.
I think I have got an idea. He called from out of town.
- Out of town? Where?
- Philidelphia.
- What's he doing in Philadelphia?
- Well, there's an opening on the Philadelphia Inquirer...
the book section and Don wrote them, he wired them
and I think this morning he just took an early train.
Oh. Why, he didn't tell me a word about it.
I, I'm not