 of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Anita Coleman. Inviting you to join us again on the campus of Ivy College. Ivy College, that is, in the town of Ivy, USA. Most institutions such as Ivy seem quickly to acquire an atmosphere of age and permanence. So much so that it's hard to imagine a day when they were brash new infants in the field of education. But everything good has a beginning, and Ivy's beginning is commemorated each year with the annual Founders' Day celebrations. This year's honored guest is Ivy's oldest living alumnus, Silas Livingston, who arrived late last night at the home of President William Todd Hunter Hall. And so we find Dr. Hall's lovely wife, Victoria, quietly planning a breakfast tray in the kitchen. Now, let me see. Let me see. I think I'll give him one soft scrambled egg, the toast, the fruit juice, the greener and green tea. Todd, if you were 91 years old, is that about what you'd like for breakfast? Victoria, my love, when I am 91 and you are a girl of... Easy does it. I'll never admit to more than 73. And you are a slipper for girl of 73? Breakfast will no longer be eaten. Meals will be a matter of chemically concentrated food. A red capsule for breakfast, a white capsule for lunch, a blue capsule for dinner. And for political banquets, all of them, and three cheers for the red, white and blue. Anyway, there won't be any more jokes about the brides' biscuits. No, no, the comedians will have to modernize. They'll do things like... Mary has a little lamb and thinks that it perhaps will end its days like beef and ham compressed into a capsule. Well, anyway, I think that's about what Mr Livingston would enjoy for his breakfast. Poor old boy, he certainly looked hard when he arrived here last night. Like a little baby deprived of its sleep. That's an unkind comparison. The baby is notoriously the most greedy, egocentric and grasping of organisms. Even while it is being tenderly talcomed, it is plotting how it can snatch your eyeglasses, and scream with rage when unable to bite off its own toe. I love them. I find them irresistible. I suppose nature made them so cuddly to compensate for taking advantage of us. By the way, do we have Mr Livingston all day or does Mr Wellman help to unroll the red carpet? I'm afraid Mr Wellman is too busy playing host to a small virus which has taken up a homestead in his left bronchial tube. It seems almost unfair to use penicillin on a little virus brave enough to attack our Clarence. Mr Wellman appears to be convinced that it was through some witchcraft that he was victimized. I think he believes the virus was an intimate friend of mine. He sent on a mission of personal vengeance. Well, I tried to explain that I was... I'll get it, Vicky. How are you this fine founder's day? And where is your lovely, your beautiful, your magnificent wife? I saw the sunrise this morning and I wanted to tell her how unfavorably it compared with her. Shh, shh, shh. Hello, Charles. I'm fine in the living room. You're fine in the living room? That's great. But how are you in the kitchen? Oh, hello, Mrs Hall. Hello, Mr Merryweather. How are you? Ever better. Although I'd like to know just why I'm whispering like this. No, no, no. It was just in the hall. Mr Livingston is still asleep in the guest room. And we don't want to wake him up. Ah, bless his little old arteries. He gave me the excuse for coming over to see you so early in the day. Before Mr Wellman took to his little trundle bed yesterday with what passes in him for a fever, and with him a hundred and six is normal, our board chairman appointed me his deputy for the founder's day caper. Why, that's splendid, Charles. And did Mr Wellman impress upon you the necessity of dignity in honoring our venerable graduate of the Class of 1880? And did his voice thicken with emotion as he contemplated the years of ivory history represented by Silas Livingston? Yes, ma'am. With his head thick with emotion or something, he breathed. Said he, trembling with hope and avarice, Merryweather, he said, you land support if that refugee from Amosilium gives this college less than $25,000. Mr Wellman is going to leave no Livingstone unturned, is he? A calculating machine which serves clearance for a heart, we must recognize a certain amount of sentiment, ma'am. And with him, 100 sentiments equals $1. Now, what's first on the entertainment schedule for our rollicking relic, Bill? The grand tour. A ride around the campus in the president's car. You know, the state vehicle that doubles as a grocery wagon when Vicky goes shopping. Yeah, oh, Toddy, before we go, maybe you take a laundry out of the car and also replace the back seat. Oh, yes, yes. Mr Livingston wouldn't see much of the campus sprawled on the floor on the path of the car, would he? Perhaps someday, Ivy will have an official limousine for these occasions, chauffeur driven, with me sitting on a little platform with a megaphone, dispensing historical data and campus gossip. There'll be a small placard which says, please do not tip the guide which I will hang my overcoat. Well, I'll have to go now, but I'll see you tonight. With Clarence being sick, I have to read his speech. And I hereby serve notice that I'm going to boff it up with a few yarks. At present, it sounds like a farewell address written by a manic depressive Aztec just before jumping into a flaming volcano. Well, any humor you can inject into the proceedings will be welcome, Charles. Before I head and yark it up, I'll be in the audience leading the clack. Thank you, ma'am. It's only my lumbago which keeps me from kissing the end of your garment. Just remember to save a few dances for me at the student ball tonight. Well, of course I will. See you later. Goodbye, Charles. You know, I'm sure he came over here to let us know that he has no intention of playing panhandler for Clarence Wellman, who is convinced that in my usual inept way I will fail to extract some money from Mr Livingston. He doesn't seem to realize that with the mosquitoes out of season, one doesn't put the bite on a house guest. Of course not. We can't put a price tag on hospitality. No. Besides, it was not... Now, who can that be? Well, I'll get it, Toddy. I just hope all this promotion doesn't disturb Mr Livingston. Mr Livingston! Howdy, ma'am. I see you folks are open about it. Well, Mr Livingston, I don't recall having locked you out last night, so could it be that you... It could be. I'm an old farmer, Dr Hall. While there wasn't any rooster to wake me up this morning, there were some mighty pretty little hens walking around the campus. So I went out to check the chickens. They tell me that every American boy, at one time or another, wears a little celluloid badge that says, Chicken Inspector. You've just kept yours longer than most people. It's an American tradition to keep an appreciative eye on our poultry, Mr Livingston. After all, this country was founded on a Plymouth Rock. Yeah. Anyway, I tried to get out as quietly as I could. I didn't want to wake you. Young folks like you need your sleep. I was waiting to send up your breakfast. Figured you were girly, figured you were. Soft eggs, soft cereal, soft words. Can't stand any of them. So I stopped at that stand down the road of peace and had a hamburger and onion, as thick as a double eagle. And a cup of coffee, strong as a good Jersey bull. But as a matter of fact, Mr Livingston... There's a lot of improvements around here, including co-education. That little co-helps in education, I think. Yes, co- is an abbreviation for company. And everybody needs a guy. Oh, excuse me for interrupting you, Dr Hall. Rude habit of mine. When you're 91, you haven't got time to listen to other people talking. You never know when you'll be interrupted for the last time yourself. Hey, Mrs Hall. You're a real cute girl. Last night, you weren't standing in the light where I could see you. Mr Livingston, I'm beginning to think it's a good thing this college wasn't co-educational when you were here. It wasn't ready for you. We'll show them the schedule today, Mr President. After a ride around the campus, which, as you've already noticed, has changed considerably since 1880, we shall visit the chapel where the student body will assemble to meet you. Then we will proceed to... Excuse me, Mr Livingston. Dr Hall speaking. Oh, yes, Mr Wellman. How are you? Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Ah, you've heard about it. Yes, it's true. But I didn't let him out, Mr Wellman. He went out by himself. Yes, and he had a hamburger for breakfast. But just a moment. With pickle lily? With pickle lily. Then we're student onion and ketchup. With everything. Oh, yes, he's here. Why, certainly, one moment. Mr Wellman would like to talk to you, Mr Livingston. This is Silas Livingston. Who are you? Oh, came to the board, eh? Yes, yes. Yes, yes. Now wait a minute, young fella. You talk too much and too fast. There you are lying sick of bed and you're trying to tell me how to take care of myself. That's enough now. You've got to learn how to relax. You'll burn yourself out before you're ready. I say that's enough. Goodbye. This keeps up. I hope you live to be 150. I intend to, girly. I intend to. He wants something for me, that young fella. And I'll bet it's money. Well, how can you tell on such a short acquaintance? No, Victoria, Mr Livingston is a farmer. He's been around domesticated animals long enough to know when they are looking for a little sugar. Yes, sir, they sort of sashay up to you real winsome, like you were the best friend. And if you haven't got an apple in your hand, they give you a soft, reproachful look and try to kick your head off. Well, in all fairness to Mr Wellman, I must say that he has never realized the truth of the old adage that just because you raise a little cane doesn't mean you end up with a lot of sugar. Yeah, maybe so. When I sure would like to see that boy's face he finds out that the only green stuff I've got grows on my farm. Well, we'll have to find it out for himself. We aren't going to tell him. And now, if it pleases you, Squire Livingston, the gas-powered Surrey awaits without. My wife and I will be pleased to show you the garden in which we labor, for it can truly be said that a university must also be dedicated to growth and change, or it too can become a wasteland. We admit to being a little sentimental about this college, Mr Livingston. As the poet said, here the heart may give a useful lesson to the head and learning wiser grow without his book. What poet was that, Mrs Hall? William Cowper. Cooper, darling. It is spelled Cowper, but pronounced Cooper. Charlie, only just the other day. I heard you call him Cowper. Oh, I know, my dear. I sometimes do. Confusion dating back to my student days in your lovely country. I was an old Scots professor, Angus McLaren. When he was challenged with his pronunciation of Cowper, he would say, My lads, I come for Aberdeen. And until you learn to call a cow a coup in the Helens, I prefer to call a coup a cow while I'm wasting my time south of the border with you young Heathens. In the evening of the same day, we find Dr. Mrs. Hall and Mr. Meriwether on the sidelines of the Founders' Day's student ball. They've just come from the alumni dinner, and as Mr. Meriwether observes, well, that certainly was the shortest dinner on record. And the shortest back of the reception and the shortest student shovel. Now, don't tell me that Gaffer Livingston broke them up, too. He most certainly did. He has a dislike for pompous occasions which amounts to a phobia. The psychologist, I suppose, would call him a ceremoni-phobiac. Oh. Yeah, as a psychologist, as opposed to those lovers of ritual who might be called fanfare-o-feels. I, myself, am an in-betweener. I am a sort of take-it-or-leave-itologist. Yeah, well, put me up for membership in that. I've been an emcee on several occasions, but I've found that the best way to master a ceremony is to stay away from it. What did our guest do at the chapel? Well, he acknowledged William's introduction with great charm and then said, if my memory serves me right and it serves me good and right, you would all rather be outside than in here, so consider yourselves dismissed. But they reconvened outside the door where he stayed for two hours and captured their hearts completely. Yeah, well, where's the little leprechaun now? You know, he moves faster at 91 than I did at 20, and I was known as Where'd He Go Merry Weather? Well, when I last saw him, he was engaged in light banter with a junior Phi Beta Kappa and the Ivy Homecoming Queen, and he had both of them in a delighted trance. Ah, if I were only his age, it's terrible to be as young as I am. A callow-sixty. Ah, well, age is a matter of outlook, not years, Mr. Merry Weather, and as long as you can still get out and look, you're young. Uh-oh, here comes the oldest living alumnus. Hey, what are you folks standing around here for? That glass sum is gone stubble. Why don't you dance with the president's wife, son? Mr. Livingston, for somebody to call me son, is so refreshing I'd burst into a Charleston if the floor wasn't so crowded. Praise be. Well, just because you're on the Board of Governors, boy, don't mean you can't relax. I've got a theory that sitting around a boardroom table does something to the character. Well, I've heard it said that the difference between a chairman and the rest of the board is that the motion goes through the membership and the chairman just goes through the motion. Anyway, Mr. Livingston, Mr. Merry Weather did ask me to dance and I told him I was saving this one for you. No, no, thanks anyway, girly. Can't dance this kind of dancing. It just isn't sociable. Well, dancing isn't dancing unless everybody joins in. These kids don't know what real fun square dancing is. Oh, but they do, Mr. Livingston. We have weekly square dancing sessions at the social hall. Every student has blue jeans or a calico dress and condosi dough with the best of them. You said right. Oh, yes. Well, sir, you're looking right at the finest fiddle at the side of the Ozarks. The one at home was the hyphid to the halo. Oh, wonderful. Mr. Merry Weather, do you think you... No, no, no, no, no, not me, ma'am. No, maybe one of the students. Wait a minute. I know the best caller East of the Great Divide. If I may use the term so soon after March 15th. What's he up to now? Oh, something outrageous, I'm sure. Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, scholars, members of the Student Council and gatecrashers. Mr. Livingston is, by his own admission, a gifted square dance fiddler who has put more turkeys in the straw than Kane's warehouse. Which is a theatrical joke for Mrs. Hall and myself only. So line up your sets and bow to your lady. We're going to the top. We skim this one right off the lip of the separator. For our caller, I call upon Dr. William Todd Hunter. Come on, Charlie. Come on. Just plain to die. Me, please. Come on, Bill. Come on. I'm sorry, Charles. It's a little out of my... Oh, no, no, no. After all, I... My pleasure, sir. Oh, no, it isn't that. It's just that I don't... I mean, for small faculty parties, perhaps, but... All right, Bill. I'll see who else I can find. Oh, well, Charles, if you insist, of course. String your fiddle, Mr. Livingston. Yippee! Don't get nuts. How are our fans picking up gravel? One hearty breakfast. It prepares one for any eventuality. Who's condemning you and for what? Well, I'm afraid, my dear, that some of our more straight-laced board members might take exception to my public exhibition last night. I wonder if I did the right thing. Well, of course you did. You are perfectly splendid. Oh, I don't think I... After all, I had never... I... Was that really? Certainly were. Everybody thought you were the greatest thing since Paul Bunyan. And if Bunyan isn't the... If Bunyan is, he should be. One thing is a social release. It gives otherwise shy and retiring people an opportunity to kick up their heels, bow from the waist, curtsy and sashay. In mock seriousness, they are acting as pioneers. And at last, for a brief time, they regained the mutual shoulder to shoulder, hand-in-hand group spirit of their frontier forebears. It is this group spirit which... Do you think if I write this out in pamphlet form that Arthur Murray would buy it? Governor's first. Good point, yes. But as an American institution, I don't see how I, this governor's, could frown upon a square-down sun-founders' day. Oh, what's a frown? Just a couple of eyebrows getting together for a little gossip. After all, our country was born with a terrible tune of Yankee Doodle. John Henry laid steel rails with a 30-pound hammer in his hand, singing, she'll be coming round the mountain when she comes. Blow the man down, they shouted, going around the horn. And drill, he tarries, drilled as they cut through mountains. And when they spread out in the lonesome wilderness, they sang, yippee-i-oh-kay-ay! Now, can you tell me why our yippee-i-oh-kay-ay isn't just as pretty as your hey-nonny-nonny? Yes, Mr. Wellman, this is Dr. Hall. Also known as Tex Hall. I most certainly did, and I do not consider it undignified. Oh, Mr. Wellman, I did not ask Mr. Livingston for any money. He has sufficiently enriched the college by his visit. He is leaving this morning with the official thanks of Ivy College. I'm sure that you will wish to join in such an expression to our oldest alumnus. Yes, Mr. Wellman. Goodbye. Good for you. I was standing up for your grand right and left. I hope I didn't stand up for them so loudly as to awaken Mr. Livingston. Oh, it'd take more than a phone call for that, I'm afraid. He was so tired last night, he couldn't lift his chin off his fiddle. Wasn't he wonderful no time? Yes, in many ways he was a tonic for all of us. That's a nice thing to hear, so bright and early in the morning. Good morning. I hope we didn't wake you up, Mr. Livingston. Oh, I've been awake in about for some time. Had to get my packing done. Have some coffee? Thank you, Miss Hall. Thank you. Yes, sir, I've been up there listening to everything you said. It's the privilege of an old man to snoop now, isn't it? Sometimes the only way to hear good things. Yeah, this has been the nicest two days of my life, Dr. Hall. And I'm grateful to Ivy. I want to do something in return. Oh, Mr. Livingston. No, no, no, no, no, just a minute, just a minute. The one thing I, Mr. Ivy, when I was here was a proper agricultural cause. Now, Ivy's got one, but it's not complete. Dr. Hall, here's the deed to my modern, completely equipped 500 acre farm with all its pedigreed livestock to be used as an experimental farm for the ag school. How wonderful. Mr. Livingston, I made it out to Ivy before I came here, just in case. But after last night, and after your little speech this morning, I'm sure it's just what I want to do. The Livingston Experimental Farm. On behalf of the students of Ivy who will benefit, our most heartfelt thanks, Mr. Livingston. Well, now I better be getting home. I'm going to stay with my son, young whippersnapper of 70 who's badly in need of a guiding hand. This bench, you know. Well, excuse me, I'll go get my beliefs. There goes a good kid. Yes, a grand old young man. As Cicero said, for as I like a young man in whom there is something of the old, so I like an old man in whom there is something of the young. And he who follows this maxim, in body will possibly be an old man, but he will never be an old man in mind.