EXT. A NEW YORK STREET
INSIDE SUMMERTIME’S HEAD WE HEAR A NEW ORLEANS STREET BAND THAT SLOWLY MERGES INTO THE SOUNDS OF NEW YORK.
SUMMERTIME Open up the windows, let the music out.
THE INSTRUMENTS ARE STRIPPED AWAY UNTIL THERE IS JUST THE SOUND OF A SINGLE PLAINTIVE CORNET. A DOOR CLOSES ON THE MUSIC AND THE STREET AND STRAIGHT INTO -
SCENE 2 INT. A BUSY POLICE STATION. AT THE DESK AN OFFICER ON THE PHONE.
BRADY: Yeh, OK, I hear you, I hear you, I’m sure they can hear you in Chicago – yeh, I appreciate it’s a problem but an officer is on the way – yeh, and I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you too. HANGS UP. OK, mister, what’s your problem? NOTHING. Look, if you want to sit and watch some action you’d better go to the movies and pay five bucks, we’re kinda busy here.
SUMMERTIME: I brought in Buddy Bolden’s cornet
BRADY: I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Who the hell is Buddy Bolden?
SUMMERTIME: He’s the reason we’re all here.
BRADY: Is he? Well if you see the son of a bitch can you tell him I’d kinda like to have a night off once in while.
SUMMERTIME: W e can all have time off now I brought this back.
HE PUTS THE CASE ON THE COUNTER
BRADY: Listen feller, if it’s lost property you want you got the wrong office, if you take –
SUMMERTIME: It’s not lost. I stole it.
BRADY: You stole it? You stole this guy’s cornet?
SUMMERTIME: Yeh. But now I brought it back. It’s over.
BRADY OPENS THE CASE
BRADY: Now I aint no Louis Armstrong but I can tell a cornet from a string of spaghetti, and that’s neither. What the hell is this?
SUMMERTIME: That’s a pair of scissors and a razor blade.
BRADY Yeh,and if you can get a tune out of them I’ll dance the fandango. What’s going on here?
SUMMERTIME That’s Buddy Bolden’s barber’s kit. I stole that too.
BRADY Yeh and I suppose now there’s some dumb barber trying to shave some poor guy with a trumpet. Now get out of here I got no time for this.
SUMMERTIME I keep forgetting, the cornet’s gone, now I’m bringing this back.
BRADY: Look, why don’t you go and see this Buddy Bolden guy and sort it out. You got his address?
SUMMERTIME: East Louisiana State Hospital.
BRADY: Louisiana? Well you aint gonna find him in New York.
SUMMERTIME: I aint going to find him anywhere, he died in 1931.
BRADY: Now look I can waste my own time, I don’t need wiseguys like you to do it for me.
SUMMERTIME: I aint no wiseguy, I’m the dullest guy in Wales.
BRADY: I don’t care what part of England you’re from, you’re in New York now where everyone’s a wise guy, now let’s see your ID.
SUMMERTIME: I don’t need no ID, everyone knows me, I’m Summertime Jones and I stole Buddy Bolden’s cornet.
BRADY: Summertime Jones? OK,empty your pockets, let’s see who we’re dealing with here.
SUMMERTIME: Am I under arrest?
PLACES WALLET COINS ON COUNTER
BRADY: It’d be something new to write in the book, we don’t get a lot of trumpet thieves. Excuse me it says here Frank O’Farrell, Butetown Cardiff.
SUMMERTIME: Oh yeh, I forgot, I stole that too. Real name’s Joseph Jones, Pontcanna Residential Nursing Home, Cardiff.
BRADY That some kind of hospital?
SUMMERTIME That was an aberration. I moved on.
BRADY An aberration? Right. And you got a residency here now?
SUMMERTIME I am resident of the international jazz dynasty. It’s a free floating residency.
BRADY OK, why don’t you just take a seat for a minute.
A DISTANT CORNET IS HEARD. BRADY PICKS UP THE PHONE. SUMMERTIME MOVES TO THE WINDOW
BRADY Hi, I got an old guy from England down here, could you run a missing person’s check for me – Joseph Jones, aka Summertime - SUMMERTIME IS RATTLING THE SHUTTERS. Can you leave the shutters, the bars are to keep people out , not to keep you in.
SUMMERTIME Got to let the music in.
BRADY Yeh,well it can use the door like everyone else.
SUMMERTIME Yeh, open up the doors and let the music in.
THE CORNET GETS CLOSER. HE OPENS THE DOOR TO THE CACAPHONY OF NEW YORK CITY STREET NOISE. THE TRUMPET ECHOES THE SOUND
BRADY Can you shut the goddamn door please.I think you’d better send a medic over, we’ve got a bit of case here.
THE SAME PLAINTIVE CORNET REFRAIN THAT FADES AWAY LEAVING AN ELECTRONIC PULSE.