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So far, I have only worked through "Christmas in the Airwaves". More to be added, episode by episode, periodically.
SEASON TWO:
“On the air, with him at the time was Mr. Victor Comstock, who was killed in the explosion.”
“Where
are you going?” “I’m going to have a word with Betty.” “She says she’s
not to be disturbed.”
“She hasn’t given me the time of day in over a
week.” “Well, why didn’t you call on me? It’s 10:46.”
“No, you don’t
understand…” “I most certainly do; the little hand is on the ten and…”
“She can’t shut herself away like this.” “Maybe she wants to be alone
because she feels alone.
Betty and Mr. Comstock, well, they were a
team. Who knows what she imagined her life would be like if Mr.
Comstock had come home.”
“You may be right, Mr. Eldridge, but I’m going
in there, because right now she is obsessed, distraught and emotionally
disturbed.”
“But she said she can’t be disturbed!”
“Gertie, I
want to ask you something I've never asked you before.” “Oh, you mean
like ‘How are you today, Gertie?”
“Do I look... welcoming, inviting?
Would a man see me and think, ‘Now there's a warm person’?”
“Sure, if
he's a mortician. Sorry, that's just reflex action.”
“I wish someone could take away her grief, her depression... her typewriter.”
“I’m
madly in love, what do you have to say to that?” “Well, doctor, we
could be… friends!” “Friends?”
“Caring, adoring friends…” “Why this
talk has changed my life, Elizabeth. From now on I promise to be your
caring, adoring friend.”
“Well then, they’re just not paying
attention. I cured Brent of his amnesia because he and
Elizabeth really
love each other and nothing should stand in the way of that.
I mean, he
should let her know how he feels and I should have let him know.
There
were so many chances to say, “Victor, let me tell you how I feel,”
and
then he would have known. And so now Brent knows and they’ll live
happily together.
You can understand that, can’t you, Mr. Eldridge?”
“Understood completely.”
“But why? Why must the show go on?”
“Well, because if it didn’t, then it, it wouldn’t would it?
We really
ought to give Jeff a hero’s welcome. Put up some signs, banners?”
“I
don’t know, it hardly seems appropriate. I mean the way Betty’s taking
this…
Oh, have a nice lunch, Mr. Foley.” “Poor Mr. Foley. He’s hardly
said a word since Victor died.”
“But why Mr. Sherwood? Why must
the show go on?”
“Why? Because there are people out there with much
bigger problems and greater concerns than we have.
And they are looking
to us to lighten their spirits. If they can’t help us, the least we
could do is try to help them.”
“I can do it!” “That’a girl.” “That was
nicely put, Sherwood.” “Yeah, I wonder if there was any truth to it.”
“Umm,
Boy! What could be better right now then a heaping helping of wholesome
hash?
Corwin’s Corned Beef…” “Stop him…” “…and that’s not mincing
words…”
“You shallow, insensitive, fool. You don’t know anything about
radio. You don’t know anything about respect…”
“I’m the safest
girl in Pittsburgh. I have this big bodyguard who follows me home each
night.
He’d make a half-fake detective, but he’s not a half-bad human
being.” “You’re sure you’re ok?”
“Thinking about what ‘might have been’
isn’t going to help me or anyone else, for that matter.
I think Victor
would want me to put my energy and thoughts and emotions into WENN…
and
my life. I’m fine, Scott. Really, I’m fine. (Well, I had to tell him
something).”
“Now
I look at you and get the same pulse-pounding thrill of a première
premiere.”
“The reviews are in and they’re all raves.” “Right back at
you Pumpkin.”
“You deserve a standing ovation.” “I got one.” “Bravo.”
“Encore.” “Intermission!”
“You and I, what a drama.” “What a romance.” “What a spectacle.”
“Oh,
my one, my own. Each morning with you is like a fantasy come true.”
“You’ll have to give me some time, Gertrude. This is all very sudden.”
“Oh, Tom, not you.” “Then it’s over?” “It’ll be all over for them if
they keep this up.
There used to be something refreshingly nasty about
their bickering. It woke you up to reality every morning.”
“Uh,
by the way, did you nauseous… notice that I’ve been brewing Ingram’s
new decaffeinated coffee this morning?”
“Yet it still gives you that
amazingly full-bodied pleasure.”
“Don’t mention Mexico and disasters to us.”
“Who would drink coffee in that heat?” “Millions of satisfied shoppers.”
“Our chinchillas… enchiladas…”
“I’d sell you anything.”
“I
want their brisk wit, their stimulating sarcasm, their dazzling
repartee.”
“Well, I think I love you more than you love me.”
“Oh, no,
no, no, no, if ither one of us loves the other more, it’s me!”
“You
may be fair in height, Travers, but my Jeffery is 6’7” and every inch
of him is mine.”
“Hm, hm, hm. That’s hilarious. Fahrenheit. Fair in
height. My God, Hilary, there’s no stopping you.”
“Just try and stop
me.” “Anybody, please, as a public service.”
“Mr. Medwick, lives are at stake.” “I had no idea…”
“One dynamic person is all it would take. Someone with energy, flair and no life of their own…”
“Eugenia with a U. You are just the person we wanted to talk to.” “It’s Eugenia with an E.” “Whatever.”
“If
WENN continues to broadcast the syrupy saccharine simperings of the
Singers each morning,
I vow never to drink another cup of Ingram's
coffee.” “Who’s the grouch who said that?” “Mr. Ingram.”
“Happy, yes. Married, no.”
“Hilary
Booth, will you do me the honor of becoming the second Mrs. Singer?”
“Become your second wife as well as your first? It’ll be a hard act to
follow.”
“What do we tell the others?” “Oh. How about the
truth?”
“Oh, that's a very dangerous policy. Once you start telling the
truth about one thing,
then you’re bound to tell the truth again and
again until you're trapped in a spider's web of honesty.”
“Oh, yes,
you’re right. I can come up with some pack of lies for us and you can
do the packing.
Unless, of course you want it the other way around?”
“Oh, Jeffery, I could never send you packing.”
“Don’t fall
asleep at the wheel. Don’t let the world know how tired you feel.
Let
this be your motto, ‘A cup of Agitato.’ Will make sure that you, keep
at the,
not counting sheep at the, don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”
“I’ve just had my seventh cup of Agitato and now, I’m not only up for the show! Heck! I’ll be up all week!”
"Betty,
Betty, Betty, Betty, Betty, Betty!” “Eugenia, you’re here early! Oh,
that’s right, how did the new show go?”
“Oh, it went just swimmingly.
At least I think it went just swimmingly. But there’s no way to really
know for sure,
but all in all, I thought it went just swimmingly. Would
you like a cup of coffee?” “No, thanks. I’ve already had one.”
“I’ve
already had one, too; three, four, five, six, seven, eight o’clock, is
when I go back on the air.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling
alright?” “I’m sorry; could you talk a little faster?” “Are you
alright?” “Alright, I’ll get you a cup of coffee…”
“Springboard, headboard, whatever. I’ll call you when I find out.”
“Oh,
no. I’ve tried this before. Radio and records don’t mix. Besides,
they’re old broadcasts; people have heard them already.”
“Familiarity
breeds content.” “But they’ve already aired. They’re over; they’ve
already had they’re run.” “Then we’ll re-run them.”
“You can’t do
that.” “Why not?” “Because shows are only meant to be heard once.”
“What if somebody missed it?”
“Well, then they’re out of luck.” “Betty
Roberts, how can you be so heartless?”
“23 hours alone together
in a tiny railway compartment...”
“46 roundtrip. Nothing but you and I
and those bumpy rails stretching out across the desert.”
“What bright
boy thought of this idea?” “I can’t imagine what I was thinking…” “I
don’t think I can keep my hands to myself.”
“If I were to go strictly
with my primitive emotions, they’d have to call in the police.”
“We
still have a radio show to do… how are we ever going to keep our
emotions to ourselves on the air?”
“Oh, it’s an inhuman temptation. The
idea of having to work together every day, of having to restrain
ourselves; I’ll go mad.”
“We’ll both go mad. Jeff, we’re getting
married.” “Till death do us part.”
“Hilary sure made the blushing bride, don’t you think?” “Yeah, high blood pressure, I think.”
“Hey, Betty, if anybody can figure out how to kill a romance, it’s you.” “Thank you so much.”
“Oh,
Jeff! We’re married!” “We can get a divorce.” “It’s no use, we’d only
get re-married again.
There’s only so much money you can pour into the
republic of Mexico.”
“Hilary, Jeff, I hope you enjoyed your honeymoon.”
“Almost as much as I enjoy hearing Wagner played on the, ah,
accordion.”
“Yeah, a really good accordion is hard to beat. But folks,
the honeymoon is over. I don’t know much about radio…”
“Sherwood, when
you’re right, you’re right.” “I could care less.” “It’s ‘I
couldn’t care less’.” “I don’t care about that.
What I care about in
this thing is Betty Roberts. She’s taking the blame and the heat for
your love-sick add-libbing and
it’s got to stop, now, before we lose
Ingram’s Coffee or Betty or both.”
“Now, there’s no reason to let Betty know I went to bat for her.”
“Now, you heard what he said, Mr. Foley. You’re not to say a word to anyone.”
“Hilary and Jeff are back to full strength.” “Really? Then pray for me, Betty. Pray for me.”
“Sorry, I’m late, Master Jeffery.” “Ah, if it were only the late, Master Jeffery.”
“I’m
serving notice, that there’s a war on in Europe and I’d much rather
deal with the fighting over there than the fighting over here.”
“I don’t start scenes; I finish them.” “Especially mad scenes.” “Oh, we’re both mad.”
“A sound that says wake up! Wake up, Eugenia! For those of you named Eugenia.”
“Hi,
Gertie, what’s the news?” “Oh, there’s a big whitewash attempt in
Missouri.”
“A cover-up, huh?” “Yeah, a real smear job. Tom Sawyer’s
painting a fence.”
“I mean, Gertie, wouldn’t you rather hear
about current affairs?” “Yours, mine or ours?”
“Don’t toy with my
affections, Gertrude.” “What do you have under wraps there?”
“The
biggest thing to hit this state since Abe Lincoln agreed to say a few
words at Gettysburg.”
“And remember, the unforgettable sound of a Clemons Family Organ… sounds nothing like that.”
“The
news. Everybody’s hog wild about the news. Newspapers are up, dime
novels are down.
We’re giving our audience a diet of nostalgia and soft
soap when what they want is hard facts.”
“Well, no wonder, a war in
Europe, and the economy is still reeling.” “And we’re going to reel in
that audience.
I just made a barter deal with Belden’s Billboards and
tomorrow, this sign will be all over Pittsburgh. And what is tomorrow?”
“What? she asks, with mounting concern.” “WENN Wennsday!” “Ah, you
misspelled Wednesday. There’s another D and an E.”
“Well, nobody takes
that seriously. And Wennsday is now our News Day!
WENN’s day of news,
noon to midnight, news, and nothing but the news. Pretty nifty, huh?”
“And
Eugenia can handle the weather.” “No, no, no, no. She’s under the
weather.
Your all night broadcasts may be a hit where you’re concerned,
but we have to find her
a backup player or she’ll be played out by the
end of the week.” “Well, then Hilary can handle the weather.”
“You’ll
be the one to tell her that, Sherwood. She’ll read the weather when
hell freezes over.”
“Sounds like skating on thin ice, to me.” “Which I
think is your specialty, Betty.”
“The weather? I do Shakespeare,
the coming reign of Henry the IV, not the forthcoming rain in
Harrisburg.
The last forecast I delivered was ‘Ware the Isles of
March’, it’s from Julius Caesar.”
“You do shows about history;
the news is history in the making.”
“History is written after they’ve
left out everything that turned out not to matter; somewhat like
missing the first two reels of King Kong.”
“Stay on top of
events.” “Why?” “So I can make an informed decision.”
“About what? Now,
Tom, you go to the barber shop and you wait for a chair and
you pick up
a newspaper and you read about civil unrest in Peru. Now, with all this
information, what do you do?” “I get a trim.”
“Auditions? What
auditions?” “For Eugenia’s backup. I put a call in to the union…”
“I
sent you a memo, didn’t you read it?” “Oh, gosh, Betty, if I were to
read one of your memos, I’d have to read them all.”
“And get me
the backstage payphone at the Crimson Follies.” “Payphones aren’t in
the directory, Mr. Sherwood.”
“Oh, yeah, right, sorry, stupid of me.
Klondike 9614.”
“I knew Mr. Big was waiting for me… waiting…
there at the top of the long stone stairway…
I took a first step… and
cautiously…and cautious…” “Thank you! Thank you…” “Is that enough?”
“Much more than enough. Thank you Mr. Bedlow. How long have you been
playing at the skating rink now?” “Oh, 17 years.”
“Oh, this coupon entitles you to one free session, any Monday night.” “Ohhh.”
“How
many semi-finalists now?” “Well, there was the woman who was allergic
to ivory,
there’s the man who won’t even touch the organ unless it’s
unplugged, and then there’s the lady who plays with her teeth.”
“Oh,
yeah, she was the best.” “She was terrible.” “Oh, I know, but she was
the best.”
“You don’t have to tell me again, Mr. Foley, no one is
trying to replace Eugenia,
but we do need someone to cover for her
while she’s working nights.”
“Can I help you?” “Boy, you sure
can, and that’s a fact. Tell me, what is the general policy at this
establishment regarding people’s feet?”
“Feet?” “Feet… and I forgot
that I was wearing heels, four inch, no less.”
“You need flats
to play the organ.” “Not only flats, but sharps.”
“Oh, thank God,
another human being! I can’t remember the last time a receptionist gave
me any reception.”
“Well, when there’s bad reception, you usually get
static.”
“So, you feed me some lines and then I play along, right?” “Absolutely.”
“Ma?
Ma, I don’t understand, Ma.” “Oh, Jeb! Jeb, when the bear ate your
father; that was nature’s way.”
“Miss LaMarsh, you were a completely
different person!” “Oh, yeah, I’m a regular Jeckel and Heckle.”
“That’s the good and the bad thing about the news, I guess. Absolutely anything can happen.”
“I
mean, Mackie, that nothing happened today.” “Something always happens.”
“Not today. Oh, I take that back, I’m sorry. A woman in Altoona had
twins.”
“Twins? That’s not news.” “Today, that’s our lead story.”
“Scott
says if we can hold out for a couple of hours, we’ll be ok.” “You
really think so?”
“Yes, because he says if we can’t come up with
something, we can strangle him on the air.”
“Gertie?” “Not a peep.”
“Call the scientists over at Penn State. Ask them if they plan on
inventing anything today. Encourage them.”
“Yes, Betty.” “Well, this is
a pretty big day, huh?” “No. Maple, I need you to go on the air right
now and play songs about the weather.
April Showers, September in the
Rain, Blue Skies, Stormy Weather, Melancholy Baby…”
“Melancholy Baby
isn’t about the weather…” “It is today. Go.”
“Think anything big
happened in the last three minutes?” “Sports?” “Travel day.” “Stock
market?” “Level.”
“Politics?” “Hard evidence of corruption in both
parties.” No news there. “Crime…crime!” “Yes!”
“Outside of a few
parking tickets, no crime.” “No crime? No crime! My gosh, Mackie!
What’s this world coming to?”
“World…there’s a whole world out there,
there’s a war going on in Europe. It’s nighttime…something’s bound to
have happened by now.”
“Well?” “There’s been a lull.” “A what?” “A
lull. There’s been a lull in all wartime activities.” “Well, really,
that’s wonderful news.”
“I know it’s wonderful, but I can’t go on the
air and report a lull…. And on the European Front, a lull broke out
throughout the continent.
When asked for his reaction, the French
ambassador stated, ‘No comment.’
And now, with analysis on this fast
developing lull, our WENN correspondent, Miss Betty Roberts. Betty?”
“Thank you. Well, the word lull comes from the Latin, lullarie, as in
lullaby or as in the German word lullen and the Swedish, lullar.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we interrupt this analysis to bring you the
latest in the scores of golf.
After eighteen holes, Nick Michaels, 23,
Bob Jordan, 28, 31, 49… what kind of golf scores are these?”
“We were
broadcasting miniature golf scores.”
“Nothing on the wire services?” “Nothing but human interest.” “Oh, nobody’s interested in that.”
“No
record has ever been set for peeling potatoes.” “Why not?” “Because
it’s stupid. These are all so ridiculous.
The world record for a
four-handed rendition of Chopin’s Minute Waltz is 42 seconds. I’ll go
get Maple.”
“This is our fifth hour on the air, ladies and
gentlemen. Non-stop news, without commercial interruption.”
“We’d like
to begin this hour by repeating our top story.” “This is our fifth hour
on the air, ladies and gentlemen.
Non-stop news, without commercial
interruption.”
“36 seconds! Ladies and Gentlemen, a new world record!!!!” “And now attempting to break the new world record…”
“And I was honored, honored to play the killer, Dr. Barley, in the play, Murder, Anyone?
And this was followed by two seasons at the Louisville Rep, where I was Mark Anthony in Julius Caesar. Then, interestingly…”
“Oh,
ladies and gentlemen, big news! Big news, first and fast. A killer
typhoon of the fifth magnitude
has struck the island of Baradoes off
the coast of Cartacalla. Leaving total devastation in its wake. Oh,
isn’t that just wonderful?”
“Yes, nature and its wrath is a wonderful
and terrible thing to behold.”
“Where did that story come from?”
“It came from the heart, Betty.” “There is no island of Baradoes.”
“Whatever you say… And the island was totally submerged, and is no
more. Oh, big, big news, Betty. Very exciting.”
“This is unthinkable.
Stop.” “Oh, don’t stop me now, Betty; I’ve got Hitler on the run.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we now bring you the first in a series of retractions, owing to many typographical errors.”
“There
are a lot of things I would do for the people at this station. Even if
it means falling head over heels…on to the pavement.”
“You’re bad news,
Sherwood.” “You know you can’t trust the news.”
“The
waiting is driving me mad, Benton, day after day.” “After day after
day.
The reason it’s taking so long is because the jury is considering
their verdict at great lengths, Brent.”
“Oh, Brent, will this waiting
never end?” “You must be strong, Elizabeth.” “I know I must, Brent.
But
sitting here in this waiting room, waiting and waiting, with each day
like the next,
day after day after day after day; the repetition is
maddening.
“You must be strong, Elizabeth.” “But why is it taking so
long? Defense Attorney Benton,
what does it mean when the jury
deliberates day after day after day like this?”
“It often means that
they’re considering their verdict at great lengths, Elizabeth.” “Who’s
that at the door?”
“It’s the bailiff… yes, it’s the bailiff alright.
The sixth sense I have with these things.”
“Guilty.” “Guilty.”
“Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.”
“Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.”
“We have to hire more actors!” “No reason
to, Betty. No money either.”
“Can I help you?” “Can I help you?
– Oh, four cumbersome words, and yet…
the Good Samaritan discovers a
sick, feeble, helpless man on the wayside and the kindly Samaritan
asks,
‘Can I help you?’ – you see?” “Um hm.” “I assume that your
indifferent delivery owes something to the brevity of your part,
which
I shall charitably categorize as a supporting role. Your name, my
dear?” “Uh, uh, Gertrude Reece.”
“Bad name. Reece. Oh, sounds like a
convention of critics.
Oh, and Gertrude, before you know it, they will
be calling you Ger-tie.” “They do.” “You see.”
“Mr. Aldwych, I pleasure
to meet you, sir.” “This, you see, this is an entrance, driven,
compelling,
his very tone and manner, instantly conveying that this is
a man of deeds, of action, a man we must watch!
I can already hear the
satisfying sound of people rustling as the audience flips through the
playbill,
eager to discover just whom this promising, young actor might
be. Oh, your name, young man?”
“Scott Sherwood.” “Good name. Oh, I
predict that you shall ascend to the very pinnacle of the theater.”
“Actually, I like to be as close to the screen as possible.”
“Self-effacing humor. Good trait.
Though, one I have never found
necessary to employ in my career. I am, of course, Giles Aldwych.”
“Mr.
Aldwych, we really can use your help, sir.” “Oh, can I help you? – you
see.”
“The scripts for Valiant Journey can easily surpass the
collected works of Shakespeare, at least in terms of their actual
weight.”
“This Insubstantial Pageant.” “I remember that show. I
heard from a reliable source that someone
in the cast had a major
drinking problem.” “It was a one-man show.” “I’m sure it was
wonderful.”
“Oh, the critics called it a tour de force. Ten years later
I was forced to tour.”
“Giles here has started the Aldwych Academy of
Drama.” “A drama school, right here in Pittsburgh?”
“Its gleaming
portals verge upon the timeless corridors of drama, the towering,
golden gateway to the thespianic prosinium.”
“Where in Pittsburgh are
you located?” “Just above the Chinese restaurant on the corner.”
“But
we have no money. What would we pay these people?” “This is the part of
show business I really love.
We call his students interns and we pay
them nothing! What a great approach, I should have started calling
people interns years ago!”
“We have to pay them something, if only to
ease my conscience. How bout if the station made a weekly donation to
the Aldwych Academy?”
“Ok, fine, fine, fine, but let’s keep it real
small, alright? Let’s see if we can hold him to say, ten dollars a
day.” “Oh, he’d never take that little!”
“I think I have them
intrigued, Morris. I’d better. My students say either I give them some
real acting experience or
I’ll have to give them their money back. No,
I’m sure that Sherwood will want me to pay him something for the use of
his station.
Let’s just pray that I can keep it down to say, ten
dollars a day…”
“Of course, we assume that there would be some
small fee involved for each day that your people work here…”
“Hmm, does
any figure spring lightly to mind?” “Well, it’s such a fine cause, we’d
thought we’d keep it small, you know, like…”
“Fifteen dollars a day?”
“Oh, no. The school has been a bit cash poor these days.” “Then how
bout twenty dollars?”
“That is not very sporting of you. You just
suggested fifteen.” “Well, I know, but on reflection,
I realized that
fifteen is simply too low, so how ‘bout twenty?” “Twenty is impossible.
Unless you wish to see me and my student body begging in the street.”
“Then thirty.”
“At least I recognize you for what you are, Miss
Roberts! I will fight you to stick to the initial fifteen.”
“Oh, that’s
very generous of you!” “It is?” “How bout ten dollars?” “Oh, shame,
that’s too little.”
“You mind your own business, young lady. Ten
dollars it is.” “Don’t suppose you’d consider five?” “Try me.”
“Unless,
of course, if you’d like to waive the fee altogether?” “Do it for
nothing? Oh, by a strange coincidence,
that is the very figure I had in
mind.” “We have a deal.” “I like the way you negotiate, young man. And
Miss Roberts, for shame.”
“Goodbye, Rex. I hope you quell your
insurrection.” “When will Daphne again see Captain Rex Landers?
You’ll
want to hear more tomorrow on Valiant Journey.”
“Hilary Booth!
…what have they done to you?” “I know. I know.
Oh, maestro, maestro, my
career, my bright career! Has it all come to this?”
“Oh, I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?” “Oh, I don’t know that you did anything out of character, Hilary.”
“You,
me, Mackie, Maple…” “That would be absolutely… who’s Maple?”
“Maple.
Maple LaMarsh, the new organist. Oh, she’s a very, very sweet kid.”
“Is
she now? How very, very sweet.” “Oh, yeah, she’s already like one of
the guys.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Not anatomically, I would hope.” “Oh,
no, no, no, no, no. Not at all. I mean really…”
“Oh, no, no, I would
have no way of knowing.” “I brought you some chamomile tea. You want
some honey?”
“Oh, no, none for me… oh, you mean does Hilary want some
honey…I’ll go get some sweetie,
Honey, ah, da, Hilary, this is Honey, I
mean Maple. Maple, Hilary.” “Did you know your husband’s a real cutie?”
“No. I was unaware of that when I married him. And only just realized
it when you so kindly pointed it out to me, now.”
“We finally get to
meet. The name’s Maple. And you’ll say, oh, Mabel? And I’ll say, no,
Maple, you know like the…”
“Sap bearing tree, whose wood is used for
distilled alcohol and false veneers and whose
pores are ever
susceptible to internal rotting and insect infestation?” “No, I meant
Maple, like the syrup.”
“Let me give you a word of advice, Mabel…”
“Maple.” “Mabel. It would be best to keep your relationship
with my
husband on a strictly professional basis. What is so amusing?” “Jeff's
an absolutely terrific guy.
Just in the valentine department he's just
not my type.” “Jeffrey is everybody's type…he's a universal donor!”
“No
offense. Uh, I just wouldn't consider him that way, married or not.”
“He's extremely good looking…”
“Oh, look, um, he is handsome!” “And
absolutely charming!” “…charming, and talented.
It's just he doesn't
make my heart beat. It’s just a chemical thing, I guess.” “Well, give
it a little time.
As you get to know him better you find that there are
so many things beneath the surface that… What am I doing?”
“That
was the lead in.” “Oh, oh, the prologue. Why so timid?
You should set
the scene as Shakespeare did with the ominous rumble of an approaching
storm.”
“Halt. Who are you?” “Hmm? Oh, Jeff Singer.” “Who are
you?” “Oh, right. Um, Brent Marlow.”
“Are you?” “I think I am.” “Could
you not possibly be the wounded lion?”
“The wounded lion…yes, yes, I
see now. The man’s a genius.” “He made me what I am.”
“Get away from that winda!” “Halt. A-way? I wish to hear the A in away.” “Which one?”
“…that
radio and theater are the same.” “That’s true…except we have no sets or
lighting…
and we have commercials and a lot of organ music.”
“To-day
on the Hands of Time, Brrrrent and Elizabeth are meeting in the Judge’s
Chambers,
before Brrrent is taken a-way to prison. Let’s lis-ten in…”
“What’s wrong with Hilary?”
“Nothing. Her character is thinking.”
“Thinking doesn’t make an awful lot of sound.”
“Oh, Brent! What are we
going to do?” “Elizabeth we only have a few seconds alone…
every second
alone, for once they take me away from here…no air…” “His performance
is very…”
“Inaudible?” “…never see the light of day again.”
“Well, there you have it. She agrees with me and I have no idea who she is. I rest my case.”
“Gus has an acutely echoic faculty.” “Ah, come again?”
“A
supporting cast? Since when do we need a supporting cast?”
“Since the
day you’ve been complaining that you’re overworked…since the day we
met.”
“Since when can this station afford more actors?” “We can’t.
We’re paying them next to nothing and they’ll be working ridiculous
hours.”
“Working ridiculous hours for next to nothing is our job.” “I
thought you’d be thrilled.” “It’s scab labor, Betty.”
“You can’t mix
armatures with professionals. I mean, look what happened to the
Pittsburgh Pirates.”
“Look, that guy’s got a hundred voices, I’ve got a
thousand. This place isn’t big enough for the eleven-hundred of us.”
“Mr.
Foley, don’t complain. It’s really going to be fine. Just follow along
the best you can…”
“Alright! You’re going to be great! Gus, you’ll
handle all the male roles. And Enid, you’ll play Hilary’s part.”
“Is it normal to be violently ill during a broadcast?”
“Rex! You’re still alive! I thought you might be lost out there among the dunes.” “Very drab.” “Hmm? Oh, yes, very drab.”
“They’re not bad actors, are they?” “Not as bad as I would like them to be.”
“…to
help her recover from her memorable bout with amnesia.” “Oh, Brent, I
simply adore being here on the farm.
The cows, the sows, the mooing the
lowing…it’s all simply moosic…music to my ears.”
“…Binky is
missing.” “Oh, darling, I’ll bet that little bunny of ours is out
frolicking in the field.
Or I’ll bet he’s hiding in the hay, or I’ll
bet he…Betty. Betty?” “Betty?” “Hilary, aren’t you supposed to be on
the air?”
“Well, I’m sorry to bother you, but I just have one little
question. Who wrote this drivel?”
“You know perfectly well that I’m in
charge of writing the drivel around here. What’s wrong with my words
today?”
“Oh, the words are fine. Many of these same words occur in
Shakespeare, Marlow, Epson…
it’s the way you arranged the words that I
don’t like.” “Oh! So it’s my writing?”
“Oh, really, are we calling this
writing, really? Betty, Betty, dear, sweet, corn-fed Betty.
What I’m
trying to say is Elizabeth does not like living on the farm. I know;
she told me so.
And if Elizabeth is not happy, then Hilary is not
happy. Hilary is not happy.
So, I’m begging you from the bottom of our
hearts: please get us the hell off of the farm.”
“Oh Brent, guess what? Pack our bags, we’re moving back to the city! And that’s how I do things here.”
“Actually,
I haven’t been listening to the Hands of Time lately.” “Oh, something
wrong with your radio?”
“No, ah, ac, actually…there’s something…else on
the radio. It’s another show…that I like…better.”
“Oh, Gertie, not you
too?” “Well, it’s just that I prefer to listen to the Leona St. James
Show.”
“The movie-star gossip lady? She’s silly! She’s rude!” “She’s on
right now.”
“Oh, my gosh! I almost forgot…I have an appointment.” “Me
too.”
“Hooray for Hollywood! This is Leona St. James, and hold onto
your hats, people.
Yours truly found out that that dreamy band leader
Artie Shaw sent a luscious letter of love to a certain movie star just
yesterday…”
“Just a second!” “Ah, listening to Leona?” “No, of course
not. But you know, I think that there is something wrong with this
radio.
I think that the dial is stuck on this station.” “Yeah, a lot of
radios around here seem to have that problem.”
“Well, it is important
to listen to the competition.” “Every day.” “Alright, I admit it. I am
an addicted… addict.”
“Who has the connections around here, but
is frivolous enough, superficial enough, vain enough to…”
“I’m sorry; I
didn’t know you were… listening to this pwera pavala about Hollywood
stars. As if movie stars are real stars…
and you call yourselves…what
do you call yourselves? Never mind.”
“What do you have against this
show? It’s innocuous, it’s…it’s innocent, it’s…”
“Inaccurate. I have it
from my friend, Mary…Martin, not Pickford, who heard it from Ethel,
Barrymore, not Mermen, that Artie Shaw is definitely not going to marry
Betty, Grable, not Hutton.”
“Then who is he going to marry?” “Well,
according to Fred…” “Astaire or Allen?”
“Mandlebar. Artie Shaw proposed
this morning to Lana.” “Turner!” “Right!” “But Leona said…”
“Well Leona
said…” “News flash from Leona! I just got a call from a reliable
source,
and you’ll never believe who Artie Shaw has just asked to marry
him… Lana Turner!”
“Call me Dusty, Honey.” “Dusty Honey is the sponsor for the Hands of Time.”
“That and Scotty’s brilliant idea. Hilary Booth hosting a Hollywood talk-show. That is just inspired!” “Thank you.” “Thank you.”
“Course that’s not difficult, because you are so very, very young.” “Oh, I’m so very pleased and young to meet you.”
“I’ve been using your depilatory…” “Hand lotion.” “…hand lotion for years.”
“Let
me tell you about this new show I have starring little old you.”
“Starring little, (cough), me? Well, I’m certainly flattered.”
“Yeah, I
even have a name for it. ‘From Hilary’s Booth.” “I like it.”
“Because, Honey, a talent like yours comes along once, maybe twice…” “Once.” “…in a lifetime.”
“Okay,
Scotty. I kept my end of the deal.” “Deal? What deal?” “No deal.”
“Now
it’s up to you to hold up your end.” “End? What end?” “The end. Thanks
Dusty. Bye-bye.”
“How could you?” “How could I not? …now everybody’s got what they want.” “Except for Hilary.”
“I
thought you’d be happy. She hates that show. All she does is complain.”
“Hilary loves doing that show. She is going to be devastated.”
“Oh,
well, I guess you got to be pretty sensitive on how you break it to
her.”
“Me? Oh, no you don’t. You’re the talker around here. That means
you tell her.”
“Okay. I’ll tell her.” “When?” “Later.” “That’s too
late.” “Soon.” “Not soon enough.”
“Give me time!” “Time, as in the
Hands of Time, is running out. And so am I.”
“It’s almost
lunchtime in Hollywood.” “What? Oh, you’re right! The days are three
hours longer out there!”
“In a way…” “When will we ever catch up?”
“I
met this guy named Pinky.” “Now that’s a name you can trust, like lefty
or nails.”
"Anyway, Pinky wanted to buy me a little bungalow in the
back streets of Bel-Air.” “How bountiful of him.”
“Yeah, it was love at
first mortgage, till I learned there was a Mrs. Pinky, and then it was
hasta luego, and hello, San Diego.”
“Midas Touch presents ‘From
Hilary’s Booth’, starring Hilary Booth as Hilary Booth.
And here she is
now from the hills of Hollywood to the pits of burgh…
the woman who put
the fab in fabulous, the cel in celebrity, the glam in glamorous the
dumb in stardom…”
“Hello, this is Hilary Booth, speaking to you from
the best booth in the house…your house.
So lend me an ear and I’ll give
you a mouthful. This just in:
Last night, yours truly attended a very
exclusive dinner party, right here in town.
And do you know what big
star I spotted there? Me! And guess who the best dressed woman was?
Me!
But enough about me; let’s talk about what people were saying about…me!
The woman to my left, a dowdy little housewife, said that no one in the
world acted more brilliantly than…me!
And her husband said that if he
could dump the old girl, there’s no one in the world that he would
rather run off with than…me!
“Oh, pity. Guess I didn’t dish
enough dirt?” “You know, you’re the kind of dame who gives dirt a bad
name.”
“Now that’s interesting, coming from a woman who’s named after
household lint.”
“Oh, my beloved, the shadows are gathering around
me…line?” “I feel so tired…”
“They just sent your dinner in, if you
want it. It’s filet minion, baked potato, strawberry shortcake…all your
favorites.”
“My last supper… Thank you, Gertie; dear, sweet Gertie.
There are too many things that have gone un-said.”
“And too many things
have gone said.” “Please, I beg you, for all the cruel things I’ve said
to you,
can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” “No.” “That’ll
do.” “Hilary?” “Oh, Jeffrey, I knew you’d come.”
“Well, we do have to
go on in five minutes.”
“Any actor would give his life for a death scene.”
“Hilary, dear, it’s time.” “Is there any word from…the sponsor?” “I’m sorry. We have to go now.”
“Mr. Foley, can you tell me something? Anything?” “Hilary, they’re ready for us in…”
“Oh,
Elizabeth, please! Please! If there’s a God in heaven, don’t die!”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Oh, oh…but I fear that is not to be. Look how your
light is fading.”
“Oh, well, I just turned it back on. See, all better
now. Feel fine. In fact, I’m famished.
Anyone have a tuna on rye?”
“Doctor, she’s delirious.” “Deliriously happy.”
“Oh, look, here comes
Monsignor O’Banyon to deliver the last rites. And not a moment too
soon.
Whoops! Oh, too late, Father. She’s dead.” “Am not!” “Are too!”
“Oh, yes, she is! She’s dead, dead, dead.
There’s no reversing it now;
it’s all over, I reckon.” “No! The only thing that’s over is that silly
disease.
Oh, what a bore, but I feel so much better now; I feel I could
dance a waltz. Or a jig.” “Show some dignity, and die, darling, die.”
“Over my dead body. Step and kick and bounce and turn.” “Don’t dance,
darling… so close to that open window.
We are, after all on the 32nd
floor, and you could fall out and get hurt.” “Up, too late...”
“Oh,
dear, she landed right on top of a sharp iron gate.” “Oh, no, I didn’t.
I landed on top of this lovely inflatable raft in the middle of the
street. Ha! I’m alive.”
“Oh, Elizabeth! Look out for that speeding
taxi! It’s coming right at ya!” “Oh, yes! It hit her!
Splattering her
into a million, tiny little pieces. Oh, do,do,do,do,do,do! Oh, well,
that’s that.”
“Oh, well that was a close call. It’s lucky that we’re
living in England, where the cars are on the opposite side of the
street. Elizabeth is alive!”
“Oh, beg pardon, a top of the morning to
you, madam, but there’s a ferocious lion that’s just escaped from the
London zoo, and oh!
Oh! Oh! Watch out! There it is now! Watch out!
Watch out!” “Oh, dear, that lion just ate that lovely policeman!
Then
he ate Monsignor O’Banyon, and then he ate the doctor and then he ate
my husband Brent! I hope the lion wasn’t hurt.”
“Okay, lady, I’ve got a
gun on you. Now give me your money or your life. Never mind, just give
me your life.” (Two shots)
“Oh, he shot himself. Oh, that poor,
depressed thief. If only I could have kept him from killing himself.
But at least I’m alive!”
“Oh, no! She’s picking up his gun, and then
she’s pointing it at her head! She’s shooting herself! No, Elizabeth,
no!”
“Goodbye, cruel world. This is the end.”
“Holly?” “Pinky?” “That’s Holly? Does this girl work here?” “I’ve never seen her before in my life…”
“…because the airwaves still belong to the American people.”
“Brothers
and sisters, we are gathered here today to honor our dearly, departed
Elizabeth, who died… of many causes.
And now, before we close the
casket and lower her into the ground, once and for all,
is there anyone
who would like to speak on behalf of the deceased?” “I would.”
“Elizabeth! Welcome back!”
“It’s good to be back.” “Ah, so then there
is life after death.” “Certainly after cancellation.”
“I think what she
means, is…it was all just a dream.” “It wasn’t a dream, darling. It was
real.
And you were there, and you, and you, and you…and you.”
“And
the twelve days of Christmas are over all too fast; and soon yet
another year has passed.
So we sing and we linger around this holiday,
as to one another we say:
Merry Christmas, good tidings of comfort and
of joy. Have I missed on my list any gift to you from me?”
“Yes,
remember when it seemed like twelve days was hardly enough time to
celebrate Christmas?
Remember when the whole family hitched up the
sleigh and traveled across the snow-covered hill and dale to Grandma’s
and Grandpa’s?”
“Remember when dinosaurs walked the earth?”
“Well,
those days are with us still as we return to the little town of
Bonneville Mills, and This Girl’s Kinfolk.”
“Oh, Gramps, just look at
us dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh – just like the
song!”
“I don’t believe it! We’re actually decking our halls
with bows of holly! This whole station is getting extremely kringly.”
“Crinkly?” No, kringly, as in Kris Kringle. It’s a word my father made
up; kinda sappy, huh?”
“Oh, no, no.” “I mean, back in Indiana, my folks
regarded Labor Day as the official start of the Christmas season.”
“It’s my big benefit performance. Hilary Booth in ‘Hilary Booth’s A Christmas Carol’.
“Globe enterprises? You mean the name I see on my paycheck just before I start laughing?”
“Oh, yes. Makes a nice color combination: white Christmas, pink slips.”
“I
think he was saving our bad news for desert… Very frustrating.
I was
given six months to turn a profit here and Betty, I am so close.”
“To
turning a profit?” “No, to the end of my six months.”
“Yep,
‘Home for the holidays’…” “I don’t like the sound of that.” “Why?”
“My
nephew once tried sending me to a home for the holidays, the scum.”
“Betty!
Betty! That was Gloria Redmond!” “I know.” “No, no, no, I don’t mean on
that; I mean on this; on the switchboard.”
“Oh, Mr. Eldridge, don’t be
ridiculous!” “Alright… I’m sure I was right.
Her voice sounded just
like her singing voice sounds when she’s not singing.”
“You’re the one
who plays all the detectives. Go ahead, detect.” “Now, Mr. Eldridge,
tell us exactly what this woman said.”
“Well, I remember clearly, she
said, ‘Hello, WENN?” “No, you said that, Mr. Eldridge.” “Oh, that was
the thing I remembered best.”
“It must have been a crank call.” “She sounded very cheerful to me.”
“Scott
Sherwood, how would you like a miracle for Christmas?” “Could I have it
before Pruitt comes back from lunch?”
“If a big celebrity made a guest
appearance here on WENN, wouldn’t that knock the wind out of Pruitt’s
sails?”
“Go on…” “Gloria Redmond may be coming to this station to sing
a song today.”
“No, I considered that, but I don’t think it’s
believable. Here’s the press release I’m going with. Gertrude?”
“Harpo
Marx will make a surprise speaking appearance today on WENN.” “Scott…”
“Great plan, huh? I mean, who really knows what Harpo Marx sounds
like?” “Scott?”
“Except for Groucho, Cheeko and maybe Zeppo.” “Scott,
what I just said about Gloria Redmond, it’s the truth.”
“The truth?
Well, I’m not sure the truth will fit comfortably in my plans.”
“I’m
an actor, not a celebrity. The only reason anybody knows me at all is
because I’m married to Hilary Booth.”
“Oh, Jeff, don’t say that.” “I
don’t say that. Hilary says that.”
“But I’m gonna need a dog
house, some skins and maybe a lickerish stick…” “I’m from Elkhart,
Indiana, Maple. Please translate.”
“Sorry, maybe a bass, a set of drums
and maybe a clarinet?”
“Oh, yes, our surprise guest; come on,
Betty, you can tell me.”
“Well, it’s all very ify. I don’t even know if
they’re coming. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Okay, then, I understand.”
“Except Scott Sherwood, of course, and Jeff, because I needed him to
question Mr. Eldridge,
and Mr. Eldridge knows because he’s the one that
took the phone call in the first place;
and Gertie, because she was
taking dictation from Scott.
Oh, and Maple needed to know because she’s
going to be playing the music,
and she has probably told Gil Martin by
now. But absolutely nobody else knows.”
“That’s everybody but Hilary
and me.” “Oh, yeah, whatever you do, don’t tell Hilary, because, you
know, she’ll get all jealous…”
“Don’t tell Hilary what?”
“Betty, she’s
really here!” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” “Yes!” “This is no time to quarrel!”
“Mr.
Eldridge, I’ll never doubt you again! She’s here!” “Well, it’s nice to
be proven right. Who’s here?”
“Gloria Redmond!” “Well, who would have
guessed!”
“Betty would like to present you with this working radio, a symbol of the hardworking people here at WENN.”
“Five minutes to get into your bloomers, Mr. Bloom.”
“Mistletoe.”
“Actually, it’s just some asparagus and a red shoelace… That was close.
Oops. Here comes my next victim. Hi, Jeff, I don’t mean to go over your
head on this, but…”
“Oh, no! No, my wife doesn’t approve of me
loitering within a five mile radius of…”
“What a charming scene.” “Um,
Hilary.” “It evokes a vivid image of this Christmas eve in our living
room.
All through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a
mouse. My husband was hung by the chimney with a short noose…”
“It’s
just an old tradition, Hilary.” “So is wearing a blindfold in front of
a firing squad.” “Excuse me, I’m sure.”
“Oh, Jeffery. Why, every
Christmas must you start acting like Santa’s reindeer?” “Reindeer?
Ah,
what, like Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen?”
“Yes, you start
dashing out with some dancer, and prancing around town with the little
vixen.”
“In the past, the losses of this station were an
absolute asset to Globe Enterprises.
However, thanks in part to Mr.
Sherwood’s efforts, you’ve now unfortunately risen to just below the
break even point,
where you are no longer a helpful deduction or a tiny
profit. My strong recommendation to Ms. Redmond
is that we fold WENN to
gain all the tax benefits of a failed investment.”
“Fortunately, I have my own theories about radio.” “You mean how they get all those people inside that little box?”
“For
the rest of December: no carols, no church bells, no sleigh bells.” “No
jingle bells? That’s heathen.
December without Christmas would be
like…January.” "Happy New Year."
“I was given six months to turn a profit, and Betty, I am so close!” “To turning a profit?” “No, to the end of my six months.”
“If
Gloria Redmond won’t let him scuttle us directly, he’ll punch a hole in
our hull just below the waterline.”
“You tell me how to do a Christmas
show without mentioning Christmas?” “I’ll tell you; it makes our
Christmas Eve one very silent night.”
“Mrs. Clause… I’ll show you claws, Ms. Gertrude. If you don’t take this outfit in, I’ll take it out on you.”
“And
as Santa approaches our microphone, he is shaking hands with all the
dedicated workers from his toyshop, all 400 elves…”
“Something’s gone
wrong, hasn’t it?” “Actually, things are going pretty smoothly,
compared to most of our shows.”
“They haven’t got a Santa Claus. I know
this moment; I’ve seen it in the movies. The star cannot go on! What do
we do?
Wait! That financier, over in the corner! He knows all the
songs. Cover me.” “Ha, ha, ha! Little Girls, they call me Santie-Claus.”
“Well,
here’s to Holly and Ivy and Good King WENNceslas.”
“Long may he rule,
Mackie. And here’s to Donner and Blitzen.” “Long may they reign, dear.”
“It’s hopeless.” “I think hopeless is being a bit optimistic.”
“And now a word from Capwell Cropdusting, for all of your pesticidal needs.”
“Shame
there can’t be two WENN’s; one for just Pruitt to listen to and one for
the rest of the world.”
“Maple! You’re absolutely brilliant!” “Really?
I just powdered my nose.”
“Radio with pictures… how would you do
that?” “Well, that’s the real stumbling block.
I have the idea and the
desire to see it through, it’s the how that I’m lacking at this point.”
“Without
Ben, I don’t think that I ever can.” “Now you listen, young lady:
I’ve
seen many more lives and deaths than you have. And I was told something
once,
long ago, in a century before this one, when my young bride
succumbed to rheumatic fever.
I have it on a piece of paper. It’ll be a
help to you as it was to me. Now:
‘What is death? Death is nothing at
all. I have only slipped away into the next room.
And I am I and you
are you. Whatever we were to each other then, that we are still.
Speak
to me in the easy way, which you always used to. Laugh as we always
laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Let my name be ever
the household word that it always was. Love means all that it ever
meant, with an absolutely unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of
mind because I’m out of sight? I’m waiting for you somewhere very near;
just around the corner. All is well.”
“There’s so much to do; isn’t
there? Just because you’re going on with your life doesn’t mean you’ve
left something behind.”
“And so with only a very few minutes
remaining before we can officially wish you the very merriest of
Christmases…”
“We want you to know that the very best gift that we
could ever hope to receive is your continued company each day of the
year.”
“We occupy a very privileged position in the world of
entertainment: Shakespeare to the circus,
from baseball stadiums to the
silver screen. Audiences have always left their homes to go to one
theater or another,
but we in radio are offered the unique honor to
enter the homes of our audience.”
“We’ve spent many a cozy evening in
the comfort of your living rooms.”
“We’ve had a standing invitation for
breakfast and lunch in your kitchen.”
“When your children were sick in
bed with a cold, we stayed at their bedside and tried to cheer them
up.”
“And this evening, if you find yourself alone, know that we’ve
been alone together.”
“That’s what radio does to strangers… it makes
family of us all.”
“Do you have anything to add to that Ms.
Redmond?”
“Just to say that I’m glad I’m spending Christmas with family
and friends and I hope
the spirit of Christmas follows all of us every
day of every season, all the rest of our lives.
You make it Christmas
each morning…”
“Betty, nobody in the world would have blamed you
if you would have gone home to Indiana, like you planned.
But, instead,
you stayed here and found a way for us to start the Christmas Eve show
as scheduled… Merry Christmas.”
“What’s this?” “It’s an airplane ticket
to Elkhart.”
“And there’s a bus ticket for the return trip.”
“Another trade deal?” “No, actually, I bought that myself.”
“God bless
radio! Or as Tiny Tim once said:” “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a
good night.”
“Simply say that I’m yours, and you make it Christmas, each day of love that we make.”
... to be continued.
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