Gold Diggers of 1933 (Warner Bros.) (1933)

FICTIONIZATION Adapted from Warner Bros.’ super musical production of the same name, coming to the. Theatre with a cast of 12 stars headed by Warren William, Ruby Keeler and Joan Blondell. Fictionization by CARLISLE JONES CHAPTER V Blue Blood Millions ITH less than three minutes to go before the first curtain, W Brad Roberts yielded to the arguments of Barney Hopkins the producer and of little Polly Parker, his sweetheart, and took the place in the show made vacant by the illness of the company’s juvenile. “Brad It’s Wonderful of You to Take This Chance. No Matter What Happens I Love You. (Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell in a tender love scene in “Gold Diggers of 1933.” ) Adapted from Warner Bros.’ super musical production of the same name, coming to the | Theatre with a cast of 12 stars headed by Warren William, Ruby Keeler and Joan Blondell. Fictionization by CARLISLE JONES CHAPTER VI “All Show Girls Are Golddiggers”’ RAD Roberts reached the apartment where Polly, Carol and Trixie lived, right on the heels of the news that he was the scion of a rich and aristocratic Boston family and not an absconding Canadian bank teller, as the girls had suspected. It explained everything, of course; how he had raised the money for Barney Hopkins to use in the show; why he could not sign his abbreviated name to a check and why he had refused until the last desperate minute, to take any part in the east. But now the whole story was out. Brad Roberts was really Robert Treat Bradford of the Boston Bradfords, as the three first night critics had suspected when they saw him in the role of the juvenile, singing his heart out to Polly on the stage. And it was time for explanations all around. “Oh Brad,” cried Polly, the first thing, “why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think—” “Think what?” demanded Brad. It was Trixie, as always, who covered up and so saved the day for them all. “We thought you had murdered a man,” she suggested light!y and changed the subject. “You see,” explained Brad, when the first excitement of his arrival had subsided, “my family my brother—my brother particularly, is one of those Back Bay Boston Blue Bloods.” “Try to say that quickly,” suggested Trixie, “Just try.” no use for the theatre—or for any body connected with it. It’s an old plot, he must have read it in a book. My family, my social background. I mustn’t breath the same air as show girls!” “What do you mean ‘show girls?’ Get down to cases.” Trixie sprang to their general defense. “That’s what my big, blue-blooded Back Bay brother calls anyone con nected with the theatre,” Brad grinned. “Show girls.” ““Nice fellow your brother,’’ snapped Carol. “Tolerant.” “Oh he’s all right in his way but I know there’s going to be a battle. If I hadn’t sung in the show, no one would have known Brad Roberts.” “He'll be proud of you now,” declared Polly, “anyone would.” “Pll. soon’ know about that,’ agreed Brad, lightly. “He’s waiting for me now.’’ J. Lawrence Bradford was waiting for his younger brother. Impatiently “He didn’t want me to go on with my music,” Brad continued. “He has Page Hight For weeks he had steadfastly refused to make a personal appearance with the show which he had backed witl his mysteriously raised money, and which featured his own songs. Now, at the last moment, and against his better judgment he was to face the audience, certain in his own heart that trouble would immediately follow. Trixie Lorraine and Carol King were certain of that too, and even Polly suspected that Brad had unpleasant reasons for wanting to be kept in the background at the premiere of his own show. But they were all agreed that, since he had saved the day and_ saerificed his own safety, perthaps, he should get al! the credit that was due him. “He’s regular,” declared Trixie. “We has nerve. He belongs in the show business.” It was Trixie who had discovered two day before that Brad answered the description of an absconding Canadian ban clerk and even Polly had come to believe Trixie’s deductions true. “He’s risking going to prison for us,” she added dramatically. “J like that kid,” Trixie continued. “If he goes to prison Vll visit him there.” That was a bold promise for Trixie to make and she herself realized it at once. “Well,” she added lamely, “at least I’ll write to him once in a while.” “T want to see him,” Polly announced suddenly, “and let him know I know what it means.” She found Brad in his dressing room in a mad scramble between costume and make up. He grinned at her ruefully. “Brad,” she began, “It’s wonderful of you to take this chance. It’s —it’s courageous.” 3rad looked mystitied. ‘It’s courageous, exactly,” he said, “but how do you know? Or do you know?” “Just don’t think about it,” Polly urged. “Just think about this. I love you and I always will. No matter what happens!” “Polly! Honey!” Brad was on his feet with his arms around her. She snuggled there for the brief est moment—but long enough to say: | said the one who had telephoned. | SaaS rooms of the University club where he and Faneuil Hall Peabody, the family lawyer had arranged to meet the young upstart who had dared drag the Bradford name onto the theatrical pages of the papers. waiting for him in the dignified Brad arrived, seventeen minutes late by Peabody’s heirloom watch, to hear the pronouncement of the family edict. He was to get out of the show business and he was to give up the young lady named Polly Parker, with whom his name was being linked by the reviewers. He was to do this on pain of losing the income from his share of the Bradford estate, for which J. Lawrence Bradford acted as trustee. Brad was short and firm with his “After tonight you can tell me all about it. maybe I can help.” “After tonight—” obviously puzzled “On the stage,” called a voice and Brad and Polly ran out, hand in hand. “Wish you grinned Brad. “TI do,” said Polly, soberly, “I wish us luck.” luck, The Show Was On The show was on. Barney Hopkins’ ideas, Brad Koberts’ musice and all the beauty -and talent and the bodies and souls of two .undred people congealed spectacularly into one great, giddy, gaudy, glittering evening. There had never been a show just like it. Never such a combination of pathos and beauty, of comedy and collosal effects. Halfway through the big opening number, which Brad and Barney had named “The Shadow Waltz” they knew instinctively that the show was “over.” They knew it was a success and that they were a success and that the world, their world, was back on its feet and laughing with them—not at them. It was a tremendous show. A scintillating breath-taking, glorious show, with every man and woman of them working at top speed and with his best foot forward. It was as Barney had predicted. There had never been anything just like it and the audience threatened to go out of control in its collective enthusiasm. But during the intermission something happened which would have worried Polly and Trixie and even Brad greatly if they had known about it. Three first night critics, their heads together in consultation, deputized one of their number to find the telephone. He returned with a smile of confirmation on his face. “T can’t believe it,’ said one. “Tt’s his description, all right.” “It’s the girl,’ he declared. “I know these show girls. They’re just Gold Diggers. This girl is behind everything he says. She wants—I know exactly what she wants—she waits to get her hands Bradford millions.” “T don’t doubt it, agreed J Lawrence Bradford, “and the thing to do is to figure on a later train back to Boston. And let us now— Peabody rose, ponderously. “Let us now what?” he asked. into the “See this Parker girl.’ “T advise against it,’ declared Peabody, quickly. “I remember,” he added, “in my early youth I trod the primrose path on the Great White Way. There I learned the bitter truth that all women of the “I Know Those Show Girls. They’re Just Gold Diggers,” (Guy Kibbee Dick Powell and Warren William in a Scene from “Gold Diggers of 1933.”") answers. He loved Polly and intended to marry her, he said, in such positive terms that the dignity of the University club was rocked to its foundations. Once Brad had stomped out of the room, J. Lawrence Bradford and Faneuil Hall Peabody, held a closed conference to decide upon a further course of action. In this, Faneuil Hall Peabody felt he was well qualified to give expert advice. theatre are chiselers, parasites, or, as we called them then, golddiggers. Her name was Eunice. And she called me ‘Fuffy.’ I don’t remember why she did, but she did.” “T’m going to see her,” declared J. Lawrence. “Oh 1 don’t know where she is now,” said Peabody. “That years ago.” ‘‘T mean this Polly Parker woman.” Peabody shook his head resigned began Brad, sweetheart,” | “What a front page story that will V’ll understand and|/ make!” | 3 Men Knew | It was just as well that none of them knew, behind the scenes, that this conversation had taken place. They had no time back there to worry now. Not with the big “TForgotten Man” number, the one Barney had dramatized for them to Brad’s music long ago in the apartment, ready to go. The fact that at least three men in the audience knew Brad’s secret, could never stop a number like “My Forgotten Man.” * * * It was Carol King who saw it first in the morning paper while Trixie and Polly, nibbling excitedly at a late breakfast, were reading the enthusiastic reviews. “Polly,” she cried, “Polly! Look at this.” She was pointing to a picture of Brad’s head and shoulders which seemed somehow to dominate the whole theatrical page. “Gosh,” breathed Polly. can’t believe it.” It was a sensational story and it carried black type headlines which read: ““*BRAD ROBERTS’ REALLY ROBERT TREAT BRADFORD! Blue Blood Millions Helped Finance Musical Comedy Hit!” The story explained that Robert Treat Bradford, son of one of Boston’s oldest and proudest families, had been living near Broadway as a struggling song writer and had financed the show which had opened the previous night. It was Trixie who found breath first, as usual. “T always knew that kid was somebody,” she declared. “You can’t fool me much.” Then they heard a familiar step outside the door. “Here,” announced Trixie in her best manner, “is the social lion, him self.” But poor Polly was what she could say to him now. (To Be Continued.) “Oh, | her jly. “I wouldn’t go to see her, he repeated. “You put yourself in her hands. They’re parasites, they’re black-mailers, they’re golddiggers.” But he followed along as J. Lawrence Bradford started for the girls’ apartment. It was Carol King who welcomed the unexpected guests. “T’ve come to see Miss Polly Parker,’ J. Lawrence said with great dignity. “I am the brother of Robert Treat Bradford, whom vou probably know as Brad Roberts.” “Oh” said Carol, “Brad’s brother. Sit down please, I’l] be dressed in a moment.” “Don’t bother Miss Parker. I can say what I have to say—” “But I’m not—” began Carol, but J. Lawrence plunged on. “Please—Miss Parker, I have just been talking to my brother. He tells me he wants to marry you.” “But youre making a mistake— please let me explain—” “Don’t bother to explain.” There was no stopping J. Lawrence now that he was started. “I have told him that if he disgraces the family by marrying a show girl—the family is through with him.” That was too much for Carol to accept cooly, or for Trixie to overhear without plotting revenge. ““Did you say DISGRACE the family by marrying a SHOW GIRL?’’ she demanded. “T said exactly that. Show girls are reputed to be—” here J. Lawrence looked to Peabody for confirmation—“parasites, chiselers, golddiggers.” Carol was too angry to speak. | Name Your Price | “And now Miss Parker,” J. Lawrence went on, “how much?” “How much what?” “What is your price?” Before Carol could recover from her astonishment and indignation, Trixie, who had overheard everything and who already had a plan was|in mind, bounced into the room. “IT beg your pawdon,” she said in her best show girl manner. “Am I interrupting?” (To Be Continued.) wondering | » 1 en ee a ~ y