 Transcribe. Gentlemen, the Jaws of Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin presents the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. When there's beer on your mind, your best thought is Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous. More people like the taste of Schlitz than any other beer. That's why Schlitz is the largest selling beer in America. Welcome again to Ivy, Ivy College that is in the town of Ivy USA. A vast silence has recently descended upon the campus. The midterm examinations will soon begin, and like most college presidents, Dr. William Todd Hunter Hall enjoys this terminal love. He gives him a chance to lock himself up in his study and polish off the accumulated unfinished business. And that's what he's doing at the moment. His wife, the former Victoria Cromwell of the London stage, has just answered the front doorbell. She enters the living room with a visitor and says, if you're quite certain it's important I'll try and get him out. But I must warn you, Mr... Nolan, Harry Nolan. I must warn you, Mr. Nolan, that I may not succeed. Once my husband locks himself up in his study, he becomes entirely oblivious to the rest of the world. In fact, compared to Dr. Hall when he's concentrating, a Hindu faker on a bed of nails could be termed flighty. It's important. Well, I do my best. William. William. It's important, is it, Mr. Nolan? I've flown in all the way from New York to offer your husband $150,000, Mrs. Hall. You rate it. A hundred... William! Oh, don't worry. I'll get him out. I'll use the old piano routine. The old? The old piano routine. I generally reserve it for just such emergencies as this. It never fails. Halls him out for the ear, in fact. You watch. In less than 20 seconds, he'll unlock the door, open it, stride over to the piano, and when you watch, just sit down, sit down over there on the couch, and I'll join you in a moment. Are you ready? Ready. Yeah. Here we go. This is the most excruciating... William, William, you have a visitor. Harry, old son of a gun. You old son of a gun. Hasn't it been a long time? Hasn't it been a long time? You haven't changed a bit. You haven't changed a bit. You old son of a gun. Old son of a gun. I'm delighted to see you. I'm delighted to see you. You look great. You look great. You old son of a gun. Son of a gun. Ah, here, Brett, Harry. Bouncing Billy. You old son of a gun. You old son of a gun. Well, that clears that up, doesn't it? I'm sorry, Victoria, have you met... Oh, yes, yes, we've met without the tribal chanting, of course, but we've met... Well, we're fraternity brothers, Harry and I. We roomed together for three years. We shared everything. Clothes. Money. Girls. Ho, ho, ho. Those were the days. Harry, where have you been? I haven't heard from you since... Oh, 1940. Oh, out on the west coast a few months ago. Then they made me vice president in charge of operations for the whole network and sent me east to New York. Still in radio, hm? Radio? Aren't you quaint? No, television's my baby now and it's quite a bouncing baby, too. Yeah, I know. We get the same kind of reception on our set. As a matter of fact, Billy, that's why I'm here. What would you do if I offered you a certified check for $150,000? He'd take it quick like a bunny. Darling, please. $150,000 in return for what? We want the TV rights to IV's football games next year. I see. Harry, you make it $160,000 and the television rights are yours. Oh, I wish I could. But I can't go a penny above $150. Business-wise, it's not worth it. Sponsor-wise, it might be. Market-wise, it's not. Money-wise, it's not too much. Profit-wise, it is. Food-wise, would anybody care for lunch? Lunch? Oh, I suggest we wait until Professor Barrett arrives. Victoria, I invited him to drop over for lunch. Should haven't his old Barrett still head of the drama department? Yeah, he certainly is. No, Harry, I can't possibly take less than $160,000. I'd like you to have the rights, but I know you don't expect me to give it to you out of sentiment. Oh, of course not. And I'd like to give you $160,000, but I know you don't expect me to be guided by sentimental consideration. Now, I always say there's no place in business for sentiment. Don't you agree, Mrs. Hall? No, well, you asked the wrong person. I'm the original sentimental Susie. I can't bear to disappoint people, and the more I like them, the less I can bear it. I go all melted buttery inside. She's sweet, isn't she? Yeah, I'm a living doll. Business matters, not very wise. Speaking wise, wise, that is. I agree with you, though, Harry. When it comes to business, my head rules and not my hearts. I find that you can't read the fine print with tears in your eyes. No, it's the same with me. Why, I wouldn't even ask someone to do business with me on a sentimental basis. I don't con people, and I don't want to be conned. Right. $150,000. I won't budge a jot. $160,000. I won't budge a tittle. I always meant to ask about that. Exactly how does one go about budging jots and tittles? Later, darling, later. Billy, I'll tell you what. I'll offer $150,000 plus a job for you. For me? We're setting up a swank 39-week television series. It's a drama series, world's best plays, that sort of thing. We need a master's ceremony. Someone to tell the audience about each play, its history, aesthetics, significance, and maybe, between acts, pedal a little soap. How would you like to do it? Pays very well. I... I... We want someone like you, someone with prestige, someone with distinction. You'd make a very good appearance, and you've a fine, resonant speaking voice. Well, but I don't quite... You really... You really think so? Oh, I don't... No, no, no, I couldn't. It's quite impossible. Well, don't decide it off the cuff. Think about it. I'll tell you what. Go back into your study and finish whatever it is you were doing, and then we'll... No, no, no, I've quite finished. I was merely reading a manuscript at Professor Barrett's request. A play, as a matter of fact, and if you should change your mind and decide to present a series of the world's worst plays, you'd be interested in this one. Thank you, Mo. If we ever do present such a series, I still have some of the masterpieces I composed when I was taking Barrett's playwriting course. Talk about turkeys. Yours couldn't possibly be more aromatic than this one. Oh, I didn't know you'd read it, Victoria. Well, yeah, I happened to see it on your desk, and after glancing at the first line, became perversely fascinated by it. After each page, small still voice inside would urge, go on, Victoria, read a bit more. It'll feel so good when you stop. I've read a lot of plays in my day, but I've never before encountered such mishmash. Mishmash? Oh, yes, yes, of course, mishmash. I'm glad you agree with me. Yeah, who wrote it? Well, Barrett wouldn't say. You'll know how sensitive he's always been about hurting his students' feelings. Oh, yes. Whenever he read one of my little gems to the class, the knowledge that the author would remain anonymous was worth $6 a minute. I can't understand how, after four months with Barrett, Barrett, the greatest authority in the field of theatrical literature and dramaturgy, anyone could turn in such a mishmash. Mishmash. Thank you. The author of this play is Wasting His and Barrett's Time. When Barrett is too sensitive to tell the student, I shall be happy to do it myself. Do you mean to say you have the strength to tell a writer what you really think of his work? Of course. When my opinion is requested, I always give it as honestly and as fully as I can. Don't you do the same? No, not exactly, but there are scores of ways of answering the question, what do you think, without hurting the author's feelings? I'm sure I can't think of any. Oh, yes, of course you can. Whenever a playwright asks me, what do you really think of it? I always seem to be able to make him happy by looking deeply into his eyes and saying, that's a play. Can't possibly call it a lie. It was a play. The one I always use is, they really have something there. Of course, I don't want to say what it is they really have. And it's also effective to tell a playwright, there are many good things about it. He doesn't know you're referring to the grade of paper it's written on, or the accuracy of the spelling, or the cleanness of the typing. Have you ever tried, of course it needs work. Yes, I wonder. Ah, but that's South history. Weasley. No. No, I shall tell Barrett, or the student, exactly what I think and let the chips fall where they may. I have too much respect for art to respect the artist. Hmm, epigram. Well, I'd rather die than tell a playwright what I thought about his work. Well, unless, of course, I liked it. Oh, there must be Barrett now. Oh, good. Excuse me, Harry, will I answer the door? Do you think Professor Barrett will remember you after all these years? Well, he might. I once said something to him that made him chuckle every time he saw me during my two years at Ivy. Oh, really what? Well, I'd written a one-act play about the death of William Shakespeare, and Barrett called me into his office and very gently, very tactfully, but very devastatingly, pointed out some of its flaws. When he finished, I said I felt it would have been much, much better if I had died, and Shakespeare had written about me. Not in the least. You're exactly on time. Good afternoon, Professor Barrett. Oh, nice of you to have me, Mrs. Hall. I wonder if you happen to remember Mr. Nolan. He's the former pupil of yours. Of course, of course. I remember him well. It would have been much better, so if I had died in Shakespeare, of course. Very good to see you again, sir. Thank you. We were just discussing the play you asked me to read. Shall we talk about it now, and then have lunch, or would you prefer... No, no, let me hear about it now. Well, I feel very strongly, Professor Barrett, that the author, by the way, would you mind telling me who wrote it? I did. I feel very... What? Yes, I wrote it, er... wrote it, re-wrote it, and polished it over a period of six or seven years. What do you think of it? The truth now? You wrote... Yes. Well, Professor... Professor Barrett, that's a play. Yes, yes, I know it's a play, but what about it? You, you, you have something there. Ah, but what? Good many, many good things about it. Yes, I know. The margins are straight and so on, but the play. What about the play? The play. Well, of course, you realize it needs work. You could say that about the human race to the great creator himself. Be more specific. Do you think it's good or bad? Were you moved at all or were you unaffected? Well, I feel... Suppose we discuss it after lunch. I think it's ready now. Ah, lunch, thank heavens, yes, indeed. I've been looking forward to it all day. Yes, let's go in at once, Victoria, and we will talk about your play when we finish. Lunch. What a lovely thought, a nice hot lunch. Yes, indeed. Surprisingly warm for January, isn't it? When there's beer on your mind... Your best thought is Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous. More people like the taste of Schlitz than any other beer. That's why Schlitz is the largest selling beer in America. Ladies and gentlemen, at 1.30 p.m. on December 26th, the five millionth barrel of Schlitz beer brewed in 1950 rolled out of the brewery. This is an all-time record. You helped set this record. You and the millions of people who prefer Schlitz to any other beer. You who have made Schlitz the largest selling beer in America simply because you like the taste of it. To you, Schlitz gives its thanks and its promise that every glass of the beer that made Milwaukee famous will continue to be the kind of beer that makes millions agree it has to be fine to be first. That's around us here today. Halls of Ivy. Professor Barrett and Harry Nolan are conversing in the living room of the Hall's home. Dr. Hall, having delayed the inevitable as long as he possibly could, has gone to his study to fetch Professor Barrett's play. Mrs. Hall joins him there and says... Hardy, you're right. No, but I've got to go through with this and how can I possibly tell such a gracious and gentle friend what I really think of his effort? It's only a play, darling. Can't be dismissed as likely as that. Like any work of art, it's a creation just as surely as a child is a creation. And like a child, the greater the pain and the greater the effort expended upon it, the more it is loved. Professor Barrett has worked on this play for six or seven years. You heard him. And it's as cruel a shatter his conception of its merit as it would be to say to a doting father, is that your child's face or a Halloween mask it's wearing? Well, then, I suggest you tell him we think it's one of the most powerful and beautiful plays ever written. Ah, but a favorable reaction from me would only spur him on to submit it to some producer, and that would lead to unbearable humiliation. Don't forget, in the past 30 years, he's taught at least a score of students who have become quite respectable writers and achieved reasonable success. To say nothing of the few who haven't been quite respectable and have achieved even greater success. Yes, exactly. Charlie, I don't mean to press, but we really can't stay in here with the others waiting for us in there. All right. Hail Caesar, we who are about to die. I'm ready, darling. Have you come to a decision? Yes, I'll tell him the truth. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it is only a play. Um, you, uh, you wouldn't, uh, care to, uh... No, no, no. Of course not. Forgive me, I'm sorry I asked. You go all melted battery inside, don't you? Come on. After you, Vicki. I'm sorry I took so long, Professor Barrett. My desk is such a frightful heap of accumulated papers that I... I quite understand. My wife often refers to my own desk as the city dump. Well, uh, what do you think of the play? The truth now. Oh, I intend to speak truthfully. Don't you feel as keenly as I that we must always make it a point to fake the facts? I mean, face the facts. Steady doctor, your Freudian slip is showing. Uh, no, no, Professor. Really, I intend to tell you exactly what I think about your play. Without fear or favor? Without fear or favor. Good. Well... In my estimation, your play... Your play... By the way, speaking of plays, did anyone see the end run Gerby made in the New Year's Day Game of Closing? Remarkable. Remarkable. Simply remarkable. Was it? Oh, yes, remarkable. Wasn't it, Victoria? Oh, yes, it was. I remember remarking to you at the time that it was remarkable. Wasn't it, though? Eleven yards. What the devil's so remarkable about that? It was the wrong direction. Speaking of football, uh, what do you think of my play? Well, um... This is what I think. I'm really very anxious to know, not only because it's my first play, but because... I don't mind telling you, I'm very anxious to have it produced. I might have worked on it a few years more, I suppose, but... I can no longer indulge myself. I don't quite understand, Professor. I need money. Quite a lot of it the doctors inform me. Doctors? Are you ill, Professor Barrett? My wife. I never realised. Yes, she's quite ill. When they told me, I naturally thought of my play immediately. It's really the only large asset I have. All my hopes are centered upon it. I see. I'm dreadfully sorry about Mrs. Barrett. You're so my. Oh, well, go ahead, Dr. Hall. Is it, in your estimation, a good play? I... I... I... Dear Professor Barrett, we both love you and it... it's a bad play. Although beautifully constructed and technically precise, it's entirely devoid of feeling beyond the art of any actor and will induce in the audience neither laughter nor tears. That is what William and I in all truth think. I see. You must know with all your experience that there's no truth about a play's merits. I mean, no one can say with certainty that it's good or bad, but you asked us to tell you what we felt, and we felt what we told you. Thank you. Professor Barrett, there are some who like the torch and some who hold it aloft. Who is to say which of these is the greater? No, no, it's quite all right, William. It's quite all right. Um... Anyway, Billy, as I was telling you at lunch, this jockey spoke to me while I was over at the paddock. Mr. Nolan said I want to give you a tip. There's a filly down at the stable who has yet to run her first race. She's the fastest thing I've ever seen. Well, of course, I'm interested immediately having my own stable as I do. So I went to see this filly's owner. Told him I might be interested in buying her. Understand? What? Understand what? Oh, yes, the filly. He quoted a price that was out of this world. I told him he was crazy and offered him half what he asked. Understand? Hmm? What? Oh. Oh, yes, horsey. Yes. Um... Professor Barrett. I'm not finished. Well, you know how it is in horse trading. Give a little, take a little, and eventually you may be able to make a deal. Understand? Same as any other deal, horses, real estate, television rights to football games. Give a little, take a little. Understand? No. I say that when you're trying to make a deal, you give a little, take a little. Whether it's horses, television rights to football games, 39-week drama series. Understand? 39-week drama. Oh, yes! Of course I understand. Well, what do you take me for? I wholeheartedly agree. Good. Professor Barrett. Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't following the conversation. No, I was saying that I wish you'd do me a favor. Help me out of a predicament. Well, gladly my boy if I can. Well, as I told you, I'm in television now, and we're thinking of presenting a very swank 39-week series, World's Best Plays, one a week, you know? Well, we're looking for someone to be the nominal producer, someone with prestige in the field of dramatic arts. Someone to appear on each program, and sort of introduce the play, and tell the audience something about it. It's a very important and highly paid job, but I can't think of anyone to fit the bill. Would you mind suggesting... Well, there's a star over in England, and, uh... No, I've just had the most marvellous inspiration. I wondered if it's the same one I had. By heavens to Betsy, I'm all at sea. What do you mean? Why, Professor Barrett would be wonderful on such a program. By George? It never occurred to me. I? On television? What a capital idea! Now, why couldn't I have thought of it? Because you're stupid. Television, uh, do you really think it's possible? Well, we mustn't get our hopes up. Well, this point TV has very, very strict requirements. Uh, let me hear your voice. Say, how now, brown cow? How now, brown cow? Perfect. Well, you could knock me over with a feather. And you have such a distinguished appearance. Professor Barrett, I'd be very grateful if you accepted the job. Of course, it only pays 500 a week. But then it's merely a few hours' work. Please say you'll do it. It's a favor to me. Well, of course, I'd be delighted to. That is, if you're quite sure, you see, I'm not really a performer. Well, how do you know? I never knew a good teacher yet that wasn't a bit of a ham at heart. What about my billing? Billing, huh? Don't worry, you're a performer. We'll discuss your billing later. Ah, Professor, I'm sure you'll be a great success. Dear me, I'm quite bewildered. 500 a week. Please excuse me, all of you. I must get home and tell my wife all about this. I shall break it to her gently, of course. Well, goodbye. Harry, Harry. You drive a hard bargain. You drive a hard bargain. You, old son of a gun. That echoes back again. Oh, it's wonderful, isn't it? Harry, that's a magnificent gesture you made. Gesture? Me? You out of your mind, he happened to be what I was looking for. That's the only reason I offered him the job. What I always say is there's no room in business for sentiment. Right. In business, one must have a hard heart, as well as a hard head. Beautifully put. I still don't agree. You're just one of those people, Victoria, who go all melted battery inside of the prospect of hurting someone's feelings. You can't help it, but there it is. Yeah, I know. It's a weakness. I often wish I could be more like you in that respect. You know, I'm cleave to the truth, no matter what. Though the heavens fall. Yeah, exactly. Though the heavens fall. I lack the strength. Darling, I've... I've more than enough for both of us. Well, it turned out quite nicely. Harry, you don't have to leave yet, do you? No, I can stay until you sign this football contract for television. Just happened to have it here in my left hand and a fountain pen in my right hand. And we have a witness who wouldn't be so bad on television herself. Call that an offer, if you like, Mrs. Hall. Oh, thank you. I'm our own girl now. Thank you, my darling. Although I'm sure you could meet any and all television requirements. But Harry has football instead. How many plunging lines does he need? When there's beer on your mind, your best thought is Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous. More people like the taste of Schlitz than any other beer. That's why Schlitz is the largest selling beer in America. Now here again, our Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Good night, everybody. Good night. Ouring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Harry Nolan was played by Elliot Lewis and Professor Barrett was Norman Fields. Tonight's script was written by Robert Sinclair, Walter Brown Newman, and Don Quinn. Directed by Nat Wolfe and transcribed by the Joseph Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Ken Carpenter speaking. That's around us here. Here comes the Great Gilder Sleeve. Then it's Groucho Marx on NBC.