The Waterbury Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1917-1946, 1938-10-22
MURDER TO MUSIC ... :x y! .o :..:. ..

/ Slrar az his beer leaned forward
and went on exeltedly, Look,
DAnnle, Put yourself m his place,
Suppose you'd been . third.rate
musician all your life, living froSn
4 hand 10 mouth"
Il wish" said Feeley IN q tired
voice, " was"
"An right let's dream Il then,
You are. An your life you've figured
YOU are as good as some OF these
guys In the big dough. And maybe
you really are, the breaks being
what they are. Then you write a
song, and you're sure It's pretty
good. But the song publishers don't
think so. They never heard OF you,
anyhow, and what Jobs have you
had and with what orchestral But
YOU have faith IN this song - It's
called The cats Meow'--And you
know how Ludden Dombey Is the
king OF swing, And this Is q swing
song, IT'S ready. It's thing from
the bowels OF Africa. IT'S Beethoven
and irving and something from the
drums OF the jungle. You know II
Is, because you know music and
you've got the feel, But you're stuck
because, somehow, some way, you
didn't get the breaks, You begin
to realize that the authors OF the
Declaration Of independence were
nice guys oil right, but they
weren't quite right when they said
that all men were created free and
equal. You begin TO tumble to the
feet that something can happen
between the time you were cree
ated free and equal and the time
when you start to earn the daily
bread. But that's all right, You're
q good sport, You see that q guy
named Ludden Dombey has got
some breaks along with his hard
work. so you take your song to
him, and you ask him to put It
over for YOU"
'Im following YOU" said Dam
ME Feeley, And I'll buy another
beer"
TAFT nodded. "okay Well
you've taken your song to Lud
Dombey and he sees something IN
II. It's decided that you ought TO
let him plug II under his own
name. Maybe he decides that, or
maybe you do. Anyhow, that's the
way It's done. And the agreement
he makes Is all right with you,
Then, under Ludden Dombeys
guidance, the song becomes one OF
the greatest contemporary hit
smashes. And then :" TAFT
paused o moment. "Then Dombey
doesn't pay"
"I'd be sore" said Feeley, mat
urally."
"Not only that, Dannie, The
song would come TO be the one
thing In your life. You'd think OF
nothin else. You'd see Dombey
rising on that song. You'd hear II
q dozen times day. You'd want
to scream out, I wrote that -
wrote II, wrote IT. But you don't
Because you've an agreement with
Dombey, and you think probably
he'll pay out In the end and may
be he's getting more out OF the
song than you would with your
name Orwell, George K. Weeks"
TAFT topped long enough to let
waiter set down two fresh stems on
the table. "Little by little, you get o
little screwy on the subject OF that
song. Maybe you get O little hungry,
too, and q little tired Of spending
your nights In 20-cent flop Joints.
So you up and shoot Ludden DOM
hey dead after you've raised the
price OF O ticket to the Golden Bowl
OF the Paclfic-Plaza."
Feeley nodded. II get II. That
sets me of. hear that guy
named Robert TAFT has been elected
manager OF Dombey's band. And !
still haven't got my money-and BY
this time I'd like O little recognition,
too. So I inveiele you down to the
Millbay district and make some
passes at you with q knife. And
while I'm doing II ! make noise
like O cats meow-because that's
the name Of the song ! got on my
added beam" .
"That's I'll That's what ! mean"
Feeley grunted. 1T sounds Ike
something Leonard Macy would
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