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

Theatre Fictionization by CARLISLE JONES Adapted from Warner Bros.’ super musical production of the same name, coming to the with a cast of 12 stars headed by Warren William, Ruby Keeler and Joan Blondell. CHAPTER VII Trixie and Carol Get Even RIXIE Lorraine’s entrance plaining to her callers that T she was not Polly Parker. Trixie intended to prevent it. From what she overheard of the conversation between J. Lawrence Bradford of the Boston Bradfords and Carol, she knew that her short-tempered friend was preparing for a spectacular outburst. Her arrival at precisely the right moment, was just a part of her hastily conceived plan. “This is Mr. Bradford,” said Carol shortly, “Brad’s brother.” “Charmed,” gurgled Trixie, in her broadest manner. “Beware!” warned Carol, still too angry to care, “Trixie’s a Show Girl.” But Trixie crossed at once to Faneuil Hall Peabody, the Bradford family lawyer, who had never taken his appreciative eyes off of her since her entrance. “And who is this distinguished looking man?” she demanded. “My name is Peabody,” said that gentleman, “Faneuil H. Peabody.” “When I know you better Pll call , you ‘Fanny’,” beamed Trixie and she patted his arm confidentially. “Have you a cigarette?” » Peabody Was Lost Peabody was lost and he knew it. It necessitated introductions. He cast a despairing glance in the direction of J. Lawrence Bradford, his friend and his client. But J. Lawrence was interested only in the business at hand. “Mr. Bradford wants me to give up Brad.” Carol winked at Trixie. “He says we’re chiselers and gold diggers and he wants to know my price.” “Have you told him — Polly.” beamed Trixie. showing that she didn’t have to be told what it was all about. “T was about to tell him where to head in,” snapped Carol. “Oh I wouldn’t be hasty,” councilled Trixie. Vd at least discuss it further, if I were you,’ agreed J. Lawrence with great dignity. “After all. we’re all grown up and sensible. You’re a woman of the world and I’m a man |of the world.” prevented Carol King from ex FICTIONIZATION “We should have a conference,” said Trixie eagerly. “I know a new speakeasy—just opened. It’s right around the corner. We’ll be with you in two minutes.” And before either J. Lawrence or Faneuil H. Peabody knew what was happening, the girls had left them to make ready for an afternoon out. The men sat there waiting, helpless and all but speechless. Once in the bedroom, Carol balked outright at Trixie’s plans. “Tm not going,” she declared. “I’m going to tell him the truth about Polly and throw them out.” “Don’t be dumb,” argued Trixie. “After what he called you? Say-—what is a parasite? You better resent it.” “He did get under my skin,” admitted Carol. “They’ve had their turn,” said “We'll Make Those Guys Pay for Trixie. “Now let’s have ours. Let’s take them for a ride. You use the bathroom while I use the phone.” Carol agreed, suddenly. | Make ’Em Pay | “We'll let those guys pay for their fun,’ advised Trixie as she dialed the most expensive milliner | she knew “right through the check | book!” So Carol, posing as Polly Parker, young Bradford’s sweetheart, and Trixie Lorraine with three marriages and miles of uncollected mony behind her took J. Lawrence | Bradford of the Boston Bradfords | and Faneuil H. Peabody the Bradford family lawyer for a “ride.” An Expensive Ride It was an expensive ride sprinkled liberally with champagne and expensive knick-knacks and it left J. Lawrence a little dizzy but no less determined to save his young brother from the hands of the designing actress. “Tm a busy man” he explained be Their Fun.” (Joan Blondell and Aline McMahon in a humorous scene from “Gold Diggers of 1933.’ ) tween courses at the swankiest restaurant in town “and I can not afford to waste more time in coming to an understanding with you.” Carol leaning toward him tantalizingly. “I’ve been wanting to ask you a question,’ she confessed, softly. J. Lawrence held firm. “Are your eyes hazel?” querried Carol. “Miss Parker — please.” J. Lawrence was a little provoked and more than a little pleased. “They are hazel,” declared Carol, more loudly than necessary. “Miss Parker,’ J. Lawrence was =o yesed. “ont be so formal,” Carol teased: “You promised to eall me Polly.” It seemed impossible to talk business with a girl like that! Back in their hotel rooms, J. Lawrence and Peabody held a second conference. | Dangerous Game | “We must go the limit,” J. Lawrence declared. “We must spend money, we must drink champagne, we must buy expensive trinkets. I’m thinking of my brother and my responsibility to him. I believe I can make this girl transfer her affections from him to me. I’ll convince her that I’m the one with most of the family wealth—and then | show her up for the scheming little person she is, And then Bob will come to his senses.” Fanueil H. Peabody knew it was dangerous business but he couldn’t think of any argument good enough to stop the whole scheme. So he followed along, dubiously certain that it all would lead to trouble. When Trixie and Carol told Brad and Polly of the events of their af‘ternoon with Brad’s brother and the family iawyer. Polly was all for rushing to them with the truth. It was Brad who held her back. “No,” he declared. “You've got to go on with it,” he advised Carol, he thinks he’s pretty darn smart. Take him for a ride.” “Listen.” urged Carol, who had meanwhile formulated a _ definite plan of her own. “I’ve an idea. He thinks I’m Polly. All right. Pl be Polly. Vl make him gimme, gimme, gimme until he’s so disgusted he’ll be willing to let Brad marry anybody as long as it isn’t me.” “It’s not a bad idea,” agreed Brad. “Of course we’re going to a lot of unnnecessary trouble. I'd marry Polly with or without his consent.” “Besides,” said Trixie, “we want our fun.” “And I want to get him,” declared Carol. “And I want a chauffeur and a ear,” added Trixie, “a chauffeur with buttons and a poodle dog named ‘Fanny’.” And so it was agreed between them. éven with ac tee (To Be Continued) 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 VIII The Frame-Up OR a while everything worked out exactly as had been: planned. J. Lawrence Bradford devoted his time and his ‘attentions to Carol King, whom he believed to be Polly Parker, and Trixie Lorraine had the pompous Faneuil H. Pea body following her faithfully wherever she went. This left Brad and Polly free to be together with the approval of everybody, even his unsuspecting older brother. But the mght of the gala at which the Barney Hopkins opening of a new roof garden showgirls were to be guests of honor, brought things to an unexpected, but inevitable climax The three couples made up one gay table. J. Lawrence Bradford, under Carol’s expert direction, was drinking more champagne than usual and Carol was pretending, successfully, that she was keeping up with him. Brad made a play of being jealous of his older brother’s close attention to Carol; Polly sat by and enjoyed the whole comedy while ‘Trixie fought off Fay Fortune’s attempt to purloin some of Peabody’s attention. It was a gay, exciting, beautiful evening calculated to make every pulse beat a little higher. J. Lawrence danced with Carol again and again, holding her more closely than was necessary perhaps, and frankly enjoying it. But when Brad finally insisted that it was his turn to dance with Carol, J. Lawrence saw Polly standing alone on a little bal cony and made his way toward her. This was the moment for which they had been waiting. Quietly Brad and Carol, Trixie and “Gigolo” Eddie who had been let in on the plans, approached the balcony to a |point where they could overhear _the conversation between J. Lawrence and Polly. The Victim Falls Hard | “Yve been watching you and wondering,” they heard J. Lawrence | Saying, “You’re so obviously a girl of breeding. Who were your people?” “My father,” began Polly, ‘my father was an official in the government service.” “Her father was a letter carrier,” Trixie giggled behind her hand to Carol. “Mother,” continued Polly, making up the story as she went along, “was an invalid.” “Her mother” whispered Trixie, “could have licked John L. Sullivan.” “Then,” demanded J. Lawrence in his best manner, “how did a girl like you—What are you doing in the theatre?” “Let’s Forget It,’ said Carol, Her Good Nature Apparently returning. “Let’s Have Another Drink.” (Joan Blondell and Warren William in a scene from “Gold Diggers of 1933.) Polly told a believable fable about that too. J. Lawrence paid eJose at tention. Then “Gigolo” Eddie stumbled past them, as coached by Trixie, and a little too obviously drunk. “Yowre the little stuck-up dame who goes home right after the show,” he challenged, waving an uncertain finger at Polly. “Yowre drunk,” declared J.Lawrence, bluntly. “Ym not so drunk I don’t know what’s going on,’ mumbled Eddie. “’m telling you you’re wasting your time. Can’t get to first base with her. She ain’t the type.” “Move on,’ roared J. Lawrence. “Youre just wasting your time,” insisted Eddie as he moved away. J. Lawrence’s tongue was a little “Y’m going home,” declared Carol. thick and his words came with dif-| “I don’t have to stay here and be inficulty. Carol had done her work | sulted.” well, perhaps too well. “You are the sort who—” he began “the sort of girl who—not cheap—not vulgar—not at all like people of the theatre.” Suddenly he added. “You know, YOU’RE the girl my brother should be interested in.” This was the moment for which Carol, Brad and Trixie and even Pol! ly had been waiting. Carol made a dramatic entrance and faced J. Lawrence. “T don’t like that,” she said. “Neither do I,” said Brad, , following Carol onto the balcony. “So we’re all too vulgar for Mr. J. Lawrence Bradford?” said Carol sarcastically “No. No. Not at all,” J. Lawrence tried to explain. “Except this little girl,” continued Carol, apparently raging. “I’m too cheap—too vulgar.” She marched out indignantly and J. Lawrence followed along, still hoping to set matters straight. “T don’t mean that at all,’ he insisted. “You misunderstood. I think you’re—” They reached Carol’s apartment of a child| While J. Lawrence was still trying to explain. “Let’s forget it,” suggested Carol. her good nature apparently returning. “And have another drink. Ill forgive you. Bottoms up!” She poured J. Lawrence two stiff whiskeys which he drank rapidly. “Hike me?” teased Carol. “| Love You Polly” “That isn’t the word. It goes deeper than that Polly.” The wrong name shocked Carol back into a realization of the situation. “J don’t understand it myself— but I love vou Polly.” There was a queer tone to Carol’s voice as she looked quickly at J. Lawrence. “Youre drunk,” she declared. “I love you Polly.” He took her, half protesting, into his arms. “You don’t mean a word you’re saying.” Carol had thrown off all semblance of intoxication now. “Youre playing, aren’t you?” There was eartnestness, almost entreaty in her voice now. “I’m playing, you know.” For an answer J. Lawrence kissed her—a long kiss. She pushed him back. “Stop it. Stop tears in her voice. But J. Lawrence wasn’t to be stopped. He drew her close to him again, his lips against her cheek, his arms tight about her, his voice soft in her ear. “IT love you, Polly.” was all he seemed to be able to say Then suddenly his arms relaxed, his eyes went glassy and he stumbled away from her. While Carol watched, her body vibrant with emotion, J. Lawrence Bradford fell into the welcoming softness of a chaise lounge and fell fast asleep. ‘You ARE drunk,’’? she sobbed— and just then ‘Trixie Lorraine knocked at the door. (To Be Continued.) it.’ There were Page Nine