June, 1965- Broadway, Manhattan-

Davy and Peter started walking down Broadway as the theater marquees started glowing.

"Whoa! This is even brighter than them West End theatre lights in London!" Davy gulped- referring to his own homeland's theater mecca.

"Yeah, and one day I'm going to have my name up there along with Neil Simon and 'Fiddler on the Roof'!" Peter exclaimed while pointing to them.

"That why you're here, then?" Davy asked- while Peter nodded.

"So why'd you canoe across the big water?" Peter asked.

"Canoe?! Oh, you just made a funny," Davy groaned.

"Come on, it was brilliant. Could any of these chicks digging you imagine you'd be able to row three thousand miles in a tiny craft with your tiny arms?" Peter laughed as he pointed to some girls walking by giving Davy the eye.

"Well, as I said, I'm here to find me dad!" Davy explained.

"Your father? Did you say your last name was 'Jones'? " Peter asked while Davy nodded.

"Something tells me that it could take awhile," Peter groaned.

"You got that wrong! See, here's the postcard of Lady Liberty and Dad says he wants me to come to the city" Davy explained as he took out the postcard.

"Which city?" Peter asked.

"It's as plain as the postmark . .Crikey, you and your motor oil! It's too smudged for me to read the city now!" Davy fumed as he hit Peter over the head with the now-greasy postcard.

"Hey! Take it easy! I said I was sorry- and is that way to treat the man who's going to put you up for the night?" Peter asked before Davy stopped hitting him over the head.

"Yer right! Well, them marquee lights are quite somethin'!" Davy conceded as they walked a few more blocks away from Broadway to Peter's apartment building.

Davy started to walk into the front entrance.

"Whoa there! We can't go in that way!" Peter gulped.

"Why not?" Davy asked.

"That's only for landlords and their friends!" Peter explained as he put his hand on Davy's shoulder to stop him from going inside.

"And you're. . .?" Davy asked.

"Just a lowly tenant. Here in the States, we tenants have to use another entrance," Peter sighed.

"What?! I thought this is the Land of the Free! Ain't Lady Liberty supposed to keep this sorta thing from going on?" Davy asked as he took out the postcard –recalling how comforted he was seeing the Statue in person for the first time as his boat passed it that very morning.

"She's too busy holding her lamp for the big ships to worry about me," Peter sighed.

"So what are we supposed to. ..?" Davy asked.

"We go in this way!" Peter insisted as he directed Davy to the back alley and pointed to a pile of trash cans.

"The back door's next to them trash cans?" Davy asked.

"Not exactly," Peter sighed as he took another trash can and put it on top of the two- can high stack.

"We're climbin' over dustbins?" Davy asked.

"No dust inside. Just trash but yeah," Peter explained as he led Davy over the top of the trash cans while Davy put the postcard inside his suit pocket while carrying his small duffle bag in trying to climb over them.

"The back door's up there? Two floors up?" Davy asked.

"Not exactly," Peter explained as he reached the far end of the fire escape and climbed aboard- waving at Davy to join him.

"You oughtta tell the landlord how shaky the landing is! A bloke could get hurt!" Davy gulped as they started climbing the extended last ladder of the fire escape.

"I try not to talk to him," Peter gulped.

After climbing eight stories on the fire escape. . ..

"Well, here it is. My apartment," Peter pointed to their left.

"I still don't see a back door. How do we. ..?" Davy asked.

"Like this," Peter explained as he opened the window and climbed in.

" I dunno about this," Davy gulped as he started climbing inside and then stumbled- knocking over the telephone off its table .

"Hey, careful! You could hurt something!" Peter yelled.

"Now you tell me to be careful," Davy groaned as he picked himself off the floor.

"At least the phone's not broken," Peter conceded as he picked up the phone from the floor and put it back on the tiny table.

"So why'd we have to climb inside? Did you lose your key?" Davy asked.

"Uh, yeah. That's it! " Peter exclaimed.

"So why don't ya ask the landlord fer a new one?" Davy asked.

"I told you! I try not to talk to him," Peter explained.

Davy took a look around and saw that there was a tiny kitchen sink and countertop with a two burner electric oven and a small refrigerator with a motor on top to the left. Behind an open door, Davy saw a small bathroom complete with a tiny sink, commode and a shower with a single towel and washcloth on the rack . Lastly two tiny doors next to each other on the wall opposite the window but nothing else inside the apartment besides a small chair and a banjo case next to the table which the telephone rested upon.

"I hate to bug ya but where am I supposed to sleep?" Davy asked.

" Right this way," Peter explained as he opened the door on the right and started to pull the Murphy bed down from the wall.

"It looks like you're struggling," Davy gulped.

"Murphy prefers being vertical instead of horizontal- just like my dates," Peter grunted.

" I wouldn't know," Davy chuckled.

"Ha! HA! Are you going to gloat or give me a hand?" Peter grunted.

"OK! OK! Quite a strong spring this Murphy has!" Davy exclaimed as the two of them jumped on top of the upright bed before it finally started to come down.

"We did it! Now we need to anchor it! "Peter proclaimed as he took the large telephone directories from the corner and put them on the foot of the bed.

"And you'll sleep. ..?" Davy asked.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Peter gulped.

"OK," Davy shrugged.

"It will be no trouble at all," Peter gulped.

"If you say so," Davy shrugged.

"And if there are any mice or rats down there, I'm sure the traps will get them before they crawl their clammy feet over my face," Peter groaned.

"OK. OK. You can sleep in the bed and I'll try sleeping in the chair," Davy groaned.

"As long as it's not too much trouble," Peter quipped.

"Look, you said you'd have me suit cleaned. I'll change into me pajamas so you can do that. Meantime, I'd like to keep trying the Manhattan Joneses for me dad," Davy proclaimed as he went inside the bathroom and took off his soiled suit to hand over to Peter while he started to take a shower. .

While Davy was in the shower, Peter heard something unexpected and remarkable to him.

" We're gonna hang all our washin' on the Siegfried Line/

If theSiegfried Line's still here!" Davy sang among other verses.

When Davy emerged from the tiny bathroom in his pajamas, Peter had to ask.

"Davy, where did you hear that song?" Peter asked.

"Oh, the 'Siegfried Line' one? Well, you said you'd clean me suit so I got to thinkin' about that one. Mum used to recite that song when doin' the wash. It had been a morale booster in the early days of the War – before the NAZIs invaded France by way of the Line," Davy shrugged.

"But your voice! You sang better in the shower than dozens of professionals I've heard onstage. With a gift like that. .. ," Peter exclaimed.

"Peter, it's just somethin' I've always done," Davy scoffed.

"But with our combined voices and my banjo playing, we could. .." Peter enthused- as he started to reach for the banjo case.

"Look, I'm grateful you're puttin' me up an' all but I'm just in your country to find me Dad. So let me have at the Manhattan Directory an' see if I can strike gold," Davy explained- as he grabbed Peter's right hand to keep it from reaching the case.

A few hours later. . .

"Hello, Mr. Zulu Jones? My name is Davy. You didn't happen to be in London back in 1944? " Davy asked as he got the telephone hung up again in his ear.

"I guess that does it for Manhattan. Let's get some sleep," Peter yawned as both were in their pajamas.

"Hold on. Let me try Brooklyn," Davy pleaded- trying not to laugh at Peter's bunny pajamas and night cap.

"Davy, you're not even sure he's in New York. The postcard said 'city'. You can't go from Aaron to Zulu for Brooklyn. Not tonight," Peter pleaded.

"OK, smarty. I won't do Aaron tonight. I'll start with the B's!" Davy proclaimed.

"What makes you think?" Peter gulped.

"Hello, is the 'B Jones'? It is? Great. My name is Davy and I were wondering if you were in London back in '44? You were? And in the service? Great! " Davy exclaimed while covering up the mouthpiece.

"You've actually hit paydirt?" Peter asked.

"Yep! This bloke were in London back in the '44 and in the Service! It's GOT to be me dad!" Davy exclaimed as put his hand over the mouthpiece while he and Peter started doing a happy dance in their pajamas.

"Hello, and what branch were you in? Th C? What's that stand for? The Women's Army Air Corp. .but ain't ya 'B Jones'? Oh, Miss Bea Jones! Never mind, ma'am! Goodbye," Davy groaned as he hung up the receiver.

"How could you mistake. .. ?" Peter asked.

"I swear she sounded like Boris Karloff as Frankenstein ," Davy groaned.

"Now can we get some sleep?" Peter groaned.

"But I just wanna. .." Davy groaned.

" I know. I never knew my father either," Peter groaned.

"So yer ma raised ya on her own?" Davy asked.

"No. I was a foster kid from as far back as I can remember but once I got fostered by a minister and his wife and she taught me to play the pump organ and banjo. That's why I want to get on Broadway to become a star!" Peter conceded.

"You think you've got a chance?" Davy asked.

"About as good a chance you do of finding your father amongst all the Joneses in the US," Peter shrugged.

"Well, at least I'll have a clean suit when.. . What's that smell?. . ." Davy groaned-as he smelled something burning

"Your suit!" Peter gasped as he bolted to the oven and saw the suit smoldering in the oven.

"It's RUINED! What were you thinking putting me suit in the oven?" Davy boiled- as he saw the many scorch marks where the pinstripes had been.

"Well, after I washed it. .."Peter started to explain.

"In water?! You're supposed to dry clean a suit!" Davy fumed.

"Well, afterwards, I didn't want to hang it out in on the fire escape in case we needed to leave in a hurry," Peter groaned as he threw the smoldering remains of the suit in the small trash can next to the oven.

"That's just great! Now I've only got pajamas to me name! If I weren't so tired from me trip and this day, I'd . …" Davy boiled as he pounded the table with both fists.

"OK. OK! I'll sleep in the chair and you can sleep in Murphy!" Peter proclaimed .

With that, Davy climbed into the small bed, pointed his finger at Peter to the chair before Peter switched off the light.

Approximately 3 AM the telephone rang. ..

"Hello, yeah, this is Peter Tork! What do you mean there's no part in Chicago? I'll audition anyway and floor them!" Peter exclaimed as he slammed the telephone down.

Davy started to stir.

"Hey! Mr. Tork! We know you're in there! You're three months behind and if you don't pay up, we're getting the cops after you!" the landlord exclaimed on the other side of the door.

"What's going on?" Davy asked too tired to open his eyes.

"Nothing! I'm just being evicted but have a chance of a lifetime," Peter groaned- as he finished dressing at a fireman's pace.

"Wait! You've ruined me only suit and now you're leaving?" Davy asked in a daze while finally opening his eyes.

"I've got nothing keeping me here. You want to join me?" Peter asked as he grabbed his banjo case and small suitcase.

"In me pajamas ? You must be joking!" Davy scoffed barely awake.

" Okay, then. You can climb out the fire escape in the morning. Get some sleep," Peter shrugged while pointing to the window which he was climbing out of.

"No Dad, no suit. Don't know how things could get any worse," Davy groaned to himself after Peter climbed out .

Without thinking, Davy stretched his right foot- knocking over the Brooklyn phone directory from the foot of the Murphy bed which caused the Murphy bed to spring vertically back into its space in the wall.

"I must be batty trying to sleep like this," Davy sighed as he started to doze off while now sleeping completely upside down inside the Murphy closet.