“Did I say there wasn’t? But where? Here? You think it’s here?”
Suddenly Joe was bewildered, uncertain. “What does that mean, Amby?”
And, just as suddenly, Amby put the agitated handkerchief away and became brisk. “Joe, it’s time somebody wised you up. We can’t talk on the street. Let’s go to Munson’s.”
Munson’s main floor fountain was three deep with the lunch-hour rush. Eventually Amby spotted a table for two.
“Look, Joe. At Hickville you pay a quarter to see a movie. It costs you a buck to see that same movie at the Music Hall, New York. Why? I’m telling you. Because New York is New York. Big time. Tops. Show business has only a few big-time spots—New York, Chicago, Hollywood, and Los Angeles. That’s where almost all the sponsored chain shows originate. Sure there’s an established scale. But get this, Joe: the scale’s only for New York, Chicago, and the coast. Every place else is small time. In show business, small time pays small time. That’s how it’s always been.”
Joe’s coffee cooled, unnoticed. Disillusionment crushed him. “Suppose the I Want Work platter gets a sponsor?”
“Maybe you get five dollars; maybe three dollars. It’s only a bit.”
“What if I’m on a five-a-week sustaining?”
“Nothing changes. It’s a sustaining show, isn’t it? You get experience.”
A nerve in Joe’s cheek twitched. “Isn’t that generous?”