Robert Young and Maureen O’Hara play the modern, sophisticated suburban couple Harry and Tacey King. He’s a successful lawyer and she’s a sculptor and stay-at-home mother with three rambunctious sons and a big dog who jumps all over people. The maid quits and the couple have babysitter problems, so Tacey advertises for a live-in mother’s helper to babysit and do light housework. Lynn Belvedere applies and is hired sight-unseen, and the Kings are surprised to discover they have hired a middle-aged man with a highly superior attitude — he immediately informs them that he’s a genius. They reluctantly allow him to stay on trial, and while they are somewhat bemused by his eccentricities — he’s a vegetarian who practices Yoga and seems to have experience in every field of endeavor. But although he professes to loath children, he works miracles with the boys and even the dog, so he stays on with the family.

But of course complications arise in typical screwball comedy fashion — a nosy neighbor spreads rumors, misunderstandings come between the Kings, and Tacey leaves home to go stay with her mother. And although it’s clear to everyone that Harry and Tacey adore each other, they both sit by the telephone, too stubborn to make the first move toward reconciliation. But suddenly chaos erupts when Mr. Belvedere’s novel comes out — a book no one knew he was quietly writing while living with the Kings. It’s a shocking expose about life in the suburbs, with all characters based on real and easily-identifiable members of the community, including the head of Harry’s law firm. Harry loses his job, and when Tacey hears the news she rushes home to his arms, and all misunderstandings are quickly resolved.

The script was written by F. Hugh Herbert, and, as the New York Times review observes, “The screen plays from Mr. Herbert are not conspicuous for their tax upon the brain,” but it’s quite entertaining.

But the thing that really appealed to me were the cars, clothes, and especially the Kings’ house and all of its furnishings! Fabulous, and just my style — it makes me wish I had been born just a few decades earlier!

My aunt has Alzheimer’s Disease. Both my parents died young, and when I see my aunt fade away, I know I’m losing one of my few remaining connections to my parents and their generation.

During one visit with my aunt in the nursing home, I reminisced about what a great dancer she had been. “Do you remember?” I asked her. “You could do all the dances. You taught for Arthur Murray.” I was just talking, I didn’t think she was actually listening. But when she heard the name Arthur Murray, she jumped up and launched into a lively rendition of the song Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing in a Hurry. She knew all the words and did the whole dance routine, with lots of turns and kicks.

I had never heard the song before, so I went home and did a little research online. I learned that it was a novelty song by Johnny Mercer and Victor Schertzinger, sung by Betty Hutton in the 1942 movie The Fleet’s In, and I found this video clip from the movie on YouTube. Betty Hutton is brash and bold, quite magnificent in her own way, wearing one of the ugliest outfits ever seen in a musical. This movie clip was new to me, but was clearly stored intact within my aunt’s mind, where so much else was lost. Watching this online made me feel just a little closer to her.

Related Links

• Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing In A Hurry — Lyrics and chords from the GuitarGuy’s website
• Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing in a Hurry — An interesting post providing some context from the Big Apple website
• Murray in a Hurry — Brief article from Time Magazine, October, 1942, on the growing popularity of Arthur Murray studios:
  

  “Arthur Murray, the Tiffany and Sears, Roebuck of U.S. dance, has almost every kind of pupil in his nationwide chain of 146 dance schools. But the trade of socialites is fast being augmented by the trade of new-rich war workers, who have long listened to the juke-box hit ‘Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing in a Hurry.’”

• RIP Betty Hutton “the Blonde Bombshell — From the Classic Film Comedy website