who sops it up like you do?
That's the problem, isn't it.
That nice young man who drinks, and the high-class young lady,
and how did she ever get mixed up with him...
and why does he drink and why doesn't he stop?
That's my novel, Nat.
I wanted to start writing it out in the country.
Morbid stuff.
Nothing for the Book-of-the-Month Club. A horror story.
The confessions of a booze addict, the log book of an alcoholic.
Oh, come on, Nat, break down, will ya?
Do you know what I'm going to call my novel?
The Bottle...that's all. Very simply, The Bottle.
I've got it all here in my mind.
Let me tell you the first chapter.
It all starts one wet afternoon about three years ago.
There was a matinee of La Traviata at the Metropolitan.
Did you forget something?
No. Just going home, if it's all right with you.
-Say, this isn't yours, is it?
-It certainly isn't.
-That's what it says though...417
-I don't care what it says.
The checks must have got mixed up.
-Maybe they did.
Find me my coat. It's a plain man's raincoat and a derby.
Are you kidding? Do you know how many plain men's raincoats
we have on a day like this?
About a thousand.
-Well, let me get back there. I can find it.
-No. Please, that's against regulations, sir.
-I am not going to wait here until the end of the performance.
-Well, you can get your coat tomorrow.
Look, man, there's something in the pocket of that coat. I...
Well, it so happens I find myself without any money
and I need that coat. And I need it now!
Listen, if everybody went in there digging through those coats...
There's regulations. There's got to be regulations.
Then, what do you suggest?
-Wait till the other party arrives, then swap.
-I want my coat.
As far as I'm concerned Mister...
that's your coat.
You're a great help.
That's my coat you've got.
And that's mine, thank heaven. They mixed up the checks.
-I thought you'd never come.
-Well you couldn't have waited so long.
Only since the first aria of the first act. That's all.
-Do you always just drop in just for the overture?
-Goodbye.
Oh, oh. Just a minute!
Oh, my umbrella if you don't mind.
Catch.
Thank you very much.
I'm terribly sorry.
You're the rudest person I've ever seen.
What's the matter with you?
-Oh, just rude I guess.
-Oh, really. Somebody should talk to your mother.
-They tried, Miss St. John.
-My name's not St. John.
-Well, St. Joseph then.
-St. James.
First name Hilda or Helen, or Harriet, maybe?
Helen.
Alright, Helen.
I also know that you come from Toledo, Ohio.
-You do? How?
Well, I've had three long acts to work you out
from that coat of yours.
Initials, labels...
Alfred Spitzer, Fine Furs, Toledo, Ohio.
-Maybe I should have explored your coat.
-But you didn't though.
-Didn't have time.
-Good.
-My name is Don Birnam.
-How do you do?
-Well, how do you like New York?
-Love it.
-You intend to stay long?
-Oh, sixty years, perhaps.
-I live here now. I've got a job.
-Doing what?
-Time Magazine.
-Oh. Time Magazine?
Then perhaps you could do something for me.
Could you help me become Man of the Year?
-Delighted. What do you do?
-Yes, what do I do?
I'm a writer. I've just started a novel. As a matter of fact
I've started several. But, I never seem to finish one.
Well, in that case, why don't you write short stories.
Well, I have some of those. First paragraph.
Then there's one-half of the opening scene of a play
which takes place in the leaning tower of Pisa.
It tempts to explain why it leans.
And why all sensible buildings should lean.
They'll love that in Toledo.
-Oh, by the way, are you coming here to Lohengrin next week?
-I don't know.
Because if you are, I'm not going to let
this coat out of my hands.
-Don't worry.
-Oh, but I do.
You know, to be really safe, we should go together.
We could.
Are you in the phone book?
-Yes, but I'm not home very much.
-Well, I'll call you at your office.
Editorial Research. If Henry Luce answers, hang