 The Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Mrs. Ronald Coleman. And Benita Coleman. Inviting you to join us again on the campus of Ivy College. It's in the town of Ivy, USA. Reading make it the full man, said Francis Bacon many years ago. But it's a notorious fact that college presidents get very little time to read. Thus, it's rare and precious scene that we're permitted to view this evening as we look into the living room at number one faculty roll. There, by the hearth, enjoying the fire and basking in the warmth of each other's company, said Dr. William Tonner Hall, president of Ivy, and his wife, Victoria, reading. I knew it. I just couldn't have been anyone else. Then who? The mailman. I had him under suspicion right from the first. Of what exactly are you accusing the mailman? Of murder. And I knew it from page three. Page three. Oh, a fictional mailman. Not that swift courier of ours who conquers snow and rain and heat and gloom of night on his appointed rounds to bring us a calendar from the butcher, a testier note from the gas company, or an invitation to donate $500 to a committee for the defense of a parakeet charged with citicosis. What was the question again? I merely said, then you were not talking about our mailman. Well, maybe that's what you said, but you didn't say it merely. No, it was the mailman in the murder mystery. I just finished. He stabbed Sir Montague Milford in the butler's pantry. Right between the sherry and the biscuits, I presume. How was the book, aside from the fact that the author failed to baffle you? Terrible. I found it on a seat on an ivy bus this afternoon. Somebody smarter than I am had thrown it away. What are you reading, or were you reading, before I broke in on your research? It is called Miscellaneous Publication number 486. And is published by the Soil Conservation Service of the United States Department of Agriculture. You must have found that on a bus, too. No, no, Professor Darby of our agricultural school gave it to me. It is subtitled Teamwork to Save Soil and Increase Production. It's devoted to the conservation of water and soil. Well, that's simple enough. Just dig a well and save the water in it. Put the dirt you dug out of the well in a big pile and save that, too. Conservation, soil and water. Why don't they ask me about these things? I can't answer that without hurting your feelings, my love. Besides, this is really a large and interesting subject. It concerns proper farming methods, such as contour ploughing, tree planting, erosion prevention, and 100 other ways to use the earth and not lose it. Professor Darby calls it farming today for tomorrow. Why did he give it to you? Oh, I indicated some interest the other day when I asked him about the legal aspects of cloud seeding. Cloud seeding? Yes, dear, artificial rainmaking. Darling, you are interested in more things. But what about the legal aspects? Well, I just asked a hypothetical question. I wanted to know what my legal rights would be if I owned a farm, raising crops which required little or no water, while a neighbouring farm needed rain and started cloud seeding. Exposing the wind with a shift and my crops were deluged and ruined. Whom could I sue? My neighbour? My government? The firm of cloud seeders? Or Jupiter pluvius? Oh, yes. Or if we started out for a picnic on a bright day and some ambitious farmers end up in airplane and made it rain, who would we blame for the soggy sandwiches and the wet cookies? Exactly. Well, who would we? Professor Darby didn't know. Oh. Miss, the old story, ask a hypothetical question and you get an equivocal answer. So I think I shall ladies pamphlet aside and go back to my real reading for the evening. The mystery? Here's a profound one. It is a paper by one of our younger faculty members in one of the psychological journals. It's just published. The mystery is why. Dibs on it after you've finished. What's the title of this masterpiece? It's called, excuse me, well, I take a deep breath, a statistical study of certain aspects of sibling rivalry among public school children and the pre-adolescent age group. I think we ought to read aloud to each other more often. Seriously, is it any good? Seriously, no. Vicky, I try to be appropriately humble in fields where I am not an expert, but this paper sounds as if... What is it, Toddy? I thought I heard someone on the porch. Oh, it's that wretched doorbell. A battery's dead or something. You know, somebody is at the door, Toddy. Here's a knocking indeed. Wake, Duncan, was I knocking? I was, though, could. I get it, Vicky. Anon, anon, I pray you'll remember the party. Won't you come in? Oh, I see, the knocking. Always a little joke, Dr. Hall. Your doorbell doesn't work. Good evening, Mr. Wellman. Macduff indeed. Duncan is in his grave. Good evening, Mrs. Hall. That's the life-spitful fever he sleeps well. Yeah, yeah, sure. I guess I have you there, Dr. Hall. Treason has done his worst. No steel, no poison, malice, anything. That's enough, Dr. Hall. That's enough. Now, let us put this persiflage aside. I have come here, Dr. Hall, on a matter of the gravest. I mean, I am disturbed by a matter which concerns you as president by me, that is, as chairman of the board. Well, if you're suggesting that it doesn't concern me, Mr. Wellman, I can go hook a round or something. Oh, not at all. Not at all. I can mean that. I know Dr. Hall likes to have you present whenever possible. Yes, I even bought an insurance policy to further the idea. It's called a marriage license. Anyway, please don't leave, Mrs. Hall. I value a woman's approach to things. Intuition, they call it. For her, intuition, nonsense. Just a pretty name for animal instinct. I know amephymism. Euphemism. He didn't mean you, he meant me. Mr. Wellman. Thank you, Mrs. Hall. As you know, I want to have here at Ivy of faculty second to none. The best, mind you. Well, I find myself in complete agreement with you, Mr. Wellman. It's a rare and enjoyable sensation. Well, enjoy it while you can. Because, Dr. Hall, the price of having the best faculty obtainable is internal vigilance. Eternal, isn't it? In this case, it's internal, Mrs. Hall. It concerns this college as an internal affair. And to further this objective, Dr. Hall, we must be ruthless, objective. We must... Look, do you know this new man in the history department, Professor Grimes? The Hugh Grimes? Yes, but he's not exactly new, Mr. Wellman. He's been with us a year and a half and a good man, too. That is a matter of opinion. And it is not my opinion. The man is no scholar. Not keeping up with the standards of our faculty. He's lazy, slacking on his job. He's letting us down, Dr. Hall. Down, down, down. Down boy. I can't understand how you got this impression, Mr. Wellman. Grimes is a brilliant man. One of our most promising historians. Well, let him keep his promises. Do you realize that Grimes has published nothing? Not a single book or article since 1947? Five years? Well, is the... Is the value of the teacher to be measured by what he offers his pupils or his publishers? May I remind you, Dr. Hall, that Grimes occupies a Hezekiah Q. Wellman chair of modern European history? Well, the reminder is unnecessary. I know it very well. And need I add that that chair was endowed by me in grateful memory of my late fraternal grandfather Hezekiah Q. Wellman? Grimes is in my chair. I mean, the one I... Yes, I know that, also. But do you know Dr. Grimes personally, Mr. Wellman? Well, I've shaken his hand, if that's what you mean. I know what he looks like. Doesn't mean anything. Anybody can look like anything. And they often do. Are you sure you have adequate grounds for your complaint? I know that he hasn't published anything since 1947. That's enough for me. Well, wouldn't it be a good idea to get acquainted with him? Yes. Now, why don't you both come over here tomorrow evening? Well, do any good. A lot of happy chit-chat, lardy dark personalities, everybody being charming. Nobody's going to charm me into changing my mind. Maybe Grimes can hold a teacup. But that isn't the question. Can he hold his job? Well, let's have you both here anyway. We'll all try our best not to be charming. It'll be difficult for my wife. I know, but I'm sure she'll do her best. Well, I'll just pretend I'm the new girl in the play and you're all friends of the producers. All right, I'll be here. But I warn you, I consider this a college, not a coffee clutch. And every time I've gone to a coffee clutch, I've always find one kind of cookie that I could do without. It's good to see you, Dr. Grimes. Glad we were able to reach you. Do you know anything about steam fitting? Well, only the old joke about taking two pieces of steam and screwing them together. Or about boiler cleaning compounds. No, sir, my horizons are somewhat limited. Then you ought to be a college president. I was just on the telephone with the custodian of buildings. He wanted my advice on repairs to the heating system. Now, why should I know anything about that? I suppose the presidency of a college does demand a certain omniscience. Omniscience says it would tax the versatility of Leonardo, the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of... No, I mustn't be trite. I will not say a joke. Now, let's get down to business. I had a special reason for wanting to see you this morning, Dr. Grimes. Not a very pleasant one, I'm afraid. Really? I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know Mr. Wellman, Clarence Wellman, the chairman of our Board of Governors? Well, I've met him, of course. Well, Mr. Wellman is a shrew businessman, Professor. We mustn't for a minute discount either his sincerity or his intelligence. However, he is occasionally inclined to not to list some of our intangibles as assets. Your ability to communicate with and inspire your students is, to me, a real value. But, Mr. Wellman, it is not something which can be displayed in the window. It seems, Professor, that you have stubbornly and shamefully refused to publish a book in the last five years. That's the case for the prosecution. Wellman versus Grimes. Ah, I see. And to keep my name on his books, he wants to see my name on my books. Mr. Wellman has become obsessed with the idea that a top-notch scholar must be a productive scholar. Well, of course, he's right up to a point. I haven't published anything recently. However, I suppose that the college insists I could knock out a paper and send it off. Although, right now, that would sidetrack me. Oh, the college doesn't insist. I've heard nothing but favorable comments about your work here. You have the respect of colleagues and students alike. Well, that's very gratifying, Dr. Hall. I thank you. Well, as far as I'm concerned, with the job you're doing at Ivy, I wouldn't mind if you never published another word. Dr. Grimes, I think my husband is getting ready to put up a fight for you. No, not a fight, Vicki. I don't think that'll be necessary. No, I would rather bring Mr. Wellman around by persuasion. Oh, so would I. Then let's make some plans. Now the plotting starts. And are you free tonight? Could you come over here? Oh, certainly, I'd be delighted to. Good, good. Mr. Wellman has agreed to be here too. I want you two to meet face to face. In the meantime, I have a Machiavellian suggestion. You a Machiavellian? Oh, he'd be a bourge here for the sake of Ivy College. Well, Clarence Wellman also happens to be interested in history, particularly his own. He has spent a great deal of time and effort clambering about among the branches of his family tree. He doesn't know that if you climb high enough in your family tree, you'll probably find yourself out on a limb. He has, like, a man who spent $10,000 in family research and then $20,000 to have it suppressed. How far back did Mr. Wellman get? Well, I don't know exactly, but it seems the most illustrious of his ancestors was a certain Cetobias Wellman, born somewhere around 1665 and knighted during the reign of George I. No, it was probably a dull afternoon and George was looking for excitement. Into each reign some life must fall, I always thought. Cetobias Wellman, that sounds familiar. It does. A few years ago, Mr. Wellman deposited a copy of his genealogy in the college library. Oh, I'm sure the librarian could help you find it. Now, if you were to familiarize yourself. You need go no further, Dr. Hall. I have some free time before my next class. Now, let it work. Mischiefs, thou art afoot. Take thou what cost thou wilt'st, oh, poor Mr. Wellman. What's he done to deserve such a combination against him? We's only guilty, my darling, of what Paul Valerie calls the folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle. The Voice of America is bringing you this representation of the Halls of Ivy starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. To return to the Halls of Ivy, it's the evening of the same day. In the Halls' living room are Dr. and Mrs. Hall and young Professor Grimes. All is business about publication. If a professor is a good professor, isn't that enough? Why is he expected to keep writing books? It's supposed to establish prestige in his field of work, Mrs. Hall. The authority of the printed work. It's an ever-recurring problem, Victoria. Quite a familiar one to those of us in the teaching professions, but not to the laity. That was no laity, that was your wife. Why, you've cultivated the virtue of tolerance, Dr. Hall. Do you get much of this? Oh, yes, yes, a great deal. Although my wife's theatrical references are usually more classical than that one. It just didn't seem to be the right spot for Shakespeare. But tell me, Dr. Grimes, you said this morning that it would... Oh, no, that must be Mr. Wellman now. We must try not to greet him so frivolously tonight. Last night we put on an impromptu scene from Macbeth. Oh, not one of the murders, I hope. No, but sometimes I'm solely tempted. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. Good evening, Dr. Hall. And all our yesterdays have lighted pools the way to dusty death. Good evening to you, Mr. Wellman. Had your doorbell fixed. Good evening, Mrs. Hall. Yeah, a case of assault and battery. We found a battery on the bell, saved an assault on the door. Good evening, Mr. Wellman. Ah, you know Dr. Grimes, Dr. Grimes, Mr. Wellman. How do you do, sir? Yes, I've met this young man. How do you do? Now, please sit down, both of you. And I've invited you here tonight because I believe you should know each other better. I was sure, Mr. Wellman... Yes, yes, Dr. Hall, I know all that preamble, but Dr. Grimes, how much do you know about English history? He teaches it, Mr. Wellman. Yes, and I've done a good deal of research in it. Have you ever heard of Sir Tobias Wellman? Sir Tobias Wellman? Yes, I have. You have? How did you happen? I mean, hardly anybody ever... You're sure you mean Sir Tobias Wellman? Yes, I do. He was born, as I remember, in November 1665. November 17th? I can't see. You're knowing that. Don't meet many people these days who take an interest in real historical figures. Is it quite a... How do you know about it, Professor? Oh, now, how can you say that? Victoria's history is Professor Grimes' specialty. It's no more surprising than to find Mr. Wellman, a former soup manufacturer, knowing how much actual gumbo goes into chicken gumbo. Very silly. We don't put gumbo into chicken gumbo. Gumbo means soup. It's like saying, how much mark do you put into marked turtles? Oh, how much malaga in the tawny. Certainly. Malaga tawny is an East Indian soup. Word means pepper water, as the main ingredient is... But I don't want to talk about soup. I want to talk about Sir Tobias Wellman. Well, as I recall, he learned the trade of carriage maker. He did. He did indeed. That's all right. Dr. Hall, this is the first historian I ever met. And finally went into business for himself. And he's the forebearer of yours, I take his service. The first of the Wellman line, Sir Tobias. I believe he eventually became carriage maker to the king. Exactly. He was carriage maker to King George I. He invented a new method of slinging the body of the carriage with lever loops, you know. Still known in trade circles as the Wellman sling. Far more comfortable for the passengers. Yes, yes. It was in recognition of this contribution to the royal comfort that Tobias Wellman was knighted. Exactly. Dr. Hall, why haven't I talked to this young man before? The opportunity has existed. Incidentally, Mr. Wellman, I went to the library today and read that copy of your genealogy. You did? Well, it's been there long enough. I mean, I'm glad somebody was finally interested enough to read it. Why were you interested in it, Professor? Excuse me while I get some butter. Butter? Butter? I just want to see if it'll melt in my husband's mouth. Not before. Really, now, there's such an experiment at this time. No, no, no. Go ahead, Professor. Well, a few years ago, I was doing some research on the social history of the Restoration period. I don't know why they call these high points of history periods. History flows. Its interludes might be called historical commas, perhaps, or of the most semicolons, but I'm sorry, go on, Professor. Yes, go on! Well, I was digging around its old pamphlets, diaries, and letters, and so on. And this morning, the name of Sir Tobias Wellman struck a chord in my memory. And so I spent most of this afternoon checking over my old notes. I'm sure this will interest you, Mr. Wellman. This is better than a who-done-it, but get to the part where gorgeous George hit Tobias Wellman with a sword. Now, there is reason to believe, sir, that the young Wainwright named Wellman, who married Polly Boggs, was not actually the father of Sir Tobias Wellman. What do you mean, not actually the father? I mean, well, then who? Polly Boggs was the daughter of an innkeeper near London. One stormy night in March 1665, this information is from an old letter. There was an unexpected guest, a royal guest, King Charles II. Who wrote this, Daphne du Maurier? I can see the cover on the jacket. Now, it appears that young Polly Boggs, who at this time was about 18, caught the roving eye of the king. You all know the reputation of Charles II? Well, there appears to have been a romantic interlude. In any case, Mr. Wellman, a certain amount of conjecture is involved here. But it seems very probable that the father of Sir Tobias Wellman was none other than King Charles II himself. No. Really? Well, I... You think... My goodness, that would just... Really? Mr. Wellman, you may very well have flowing in your veins the blood of royalty, the blood of the stewardess. Well, but Wellman did marry her, didn't he? Of course, that was a very long time. Well, royalty? The blood of the stewardess. I can hardly believe it. For a soup manufacturer, Mr. Wellman, you turned out to be quite a broth of a boy. Again, let me say, Mr. Wellman, we cannot be absolutely sure. But it could be true. It must be. It would explain so many things about me. Well, the stewardess lost his head, didn't she? Oh, Gloria. Dr. Hall, my judgment was too hasty. A young man, you are the kind of faculty member we like to have at Ivy. That's gratifying. Anybody who does such conscientious research, well, when your contract comes up for renewal, in spite of what Dr. Hall may advise, I want you to know who I am behind you. In spite of what I... Yes, now I must go. It's been a pleasure to talk to you, Professor Graves. Good evening, Mrs. Hall. This has been very interesting. The blood of the stewardess. Imagine me, an economic royalist. Yeah, keep Clarence the first. Good night, subjects. Good night. Imagine, as you see. Professor, I hope that wasn't all together a hoax. Oh, it wasn't a hoax at all, sir. There is a certain amount of conjecture, as I pointed out, but the probabilities are certainly in favor of it. Well, it's amazing. Bonnet, Prince Clarence. Let his wrinkles little killed. He went out in quite a glow of noble happiness, didn't he? Yeah, I always rather suspect that he came from royal stock. He explains why I've so often wanted to crown him. Oh, no, no, that is... That's Lé's Majesty, my darling. I shall expect you as a former British subject. One subject I never wish to change. I shall expect you to treat his Majesty, Mr. Wellman, with a little more of the respect due, the regal line. And as for me, I shall get myself some silk knee-bridges from board meetings. All very well for you, Dr. Hall. You're of ambassadorial status. But what about me? I've just researched myself back into the peasantry. Ha-ha-ha! It wasn't a wonderful to watch Mr. Wellman's face when he suddenly realized who he might be. I'll bet he goes home and beats his soup kettles into a suit of armor. I hope he can make the feeling last. Oh, he will. According to one of his brother rulers, Richard II, not all the water in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king. Wellman's form.