 The House of Squib presents Academy Award. Tonight, Joan Fontaine in Portrait of Jenny with John Lund. Every week, Squib brings you Hollywood's finest. The great picture plays, the great actors and actresses, techniques and skills chosen from the honor roll of those who have won or been nominated for, the famous Golden Oscar of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. For generations, The House of Squib has been known for the high quality and unfailing dependability of its products, each the result of a never-ending quest for perfection. Today, the great family of Squib products reflects the tremendous advance of science in its contribution to human health and well-being. The name Squib stands for progress through research. Squib is a name you can trust. Tonight, Squib brings to Academy Award Robert Nathan's famous story, Portrait of Jenny. As our star, you will hear lovely Joan Fontaine, who has three times been nominated as Best Actress of the Year and, in 1941, won the Academy Award. Appearing with Ms. Fontaine is the talented young actor John Lund. And now, Academy Award. There is such a thing as hunger for more than food. And that was the hunger I fed on. Yes, there's another kind of suffering for the artist, which is worse than anything a winter or poverty can do. It's more like a winter of the mind in which the life of his genius, the living sap of his work, seems frozen and motionless, caught perhaps forever in a season of death. And who knows if spring will ever come again to set it free. One evening in the winter of 1938, I was walking home through Central Park. That night, I was at the bottom without money or friends, cold and hungry and tired without hope. I crossed the drive and started down the long deserted corridor of the mall. A little girl was playing alone in the middle of the mall. I stopped and watched her. For I was surprised to see her there alone. Hello. Say, it's getting pretty dark. Why don't you to go home? Is it late? Yes, it's late. Well, I don't have to go home yet. Nobody's ready for me. Well, it's rather strange for you to be here at this time. I'll walk away with you if you don't mind. I guess it's a little lonely here by myself. Why, that'll be fine. Come along. Are you all alone? Isn't anybody with you? No, who would there be? Anyway, you're with me. What have you got in the big envelope? Oh, this? This is a portfolio. I carry my drawings in this. Oh, I knew they were pictures. How did you know? Oh, I just knew. My name's Jenny. Just so you'll know. Jenny? Jenny what? Jenny Appleton. We live in a hotel, but I don't see my mother and father very often. They're actors and actresses. They're at the Hammerstein Music Hall. They do juggling on a rope. I see. They're not home very much on a kind of being in the profession. Wait a minute, Jenny. What was that you said about the Hammerstein Music Hall? Why? Oh, nothing. I was thinking for a moment that it had been torn down years ago. Oh, no. How could it? Won't you take my hand? Sure. I go to school. I have very exciting lessons. I'm learning geography and history and about the Kaiser. You know, he's the king of Germany. Well, he was, but that was long ago. Oh, I think you're wrong. Especially Jones is in my class, and I can fight her. I'm stronger than she is, and I can fight her good. It's fun to have somebody to play with. Yes, I suppose it is. Don't you have anyone to play with? No. Oh, it's too bad. See, I know a song. Would you like to hear it? Yes, I would. Where I come from, where I'm going, everything goes. Who taught you that? Nobody taught me. It's just a song. Well, here's the exit, Jenny. Goodbye. I have to go now. Do you know the game I like to play best? No, Jenny. It's a wishing game. Well, what do you wish for most? I wish you'd wait for me to grow up. But you won't, I guess. I stood and watched her as she walked back down the mall. I waited until I couldn't see her anymore. And then I went back to my cold studio to face Mrs. Jeeks, the landlady. And I had no rent to give her. I guess I was getting pretty desperate the day I brought my sketches into the Matthews Gallery. There was a show on, and I guess I went in more out of curiosity than the hope of selling anything. Mr. Matthews came out of his little office at the rear. Yes, what can I do for you? Why, I don't know. You could buy one of my pictures, perhaps. Landscapes? Yes, mostly. I see. Well, I don't know. Of course, we buy very little, almost nothing, the times being what they are. However, let me see what you have. Landscapes. Too bad. I'm sorry, but wait a minute. What's this? Oh, that's not anything. That's only a sketch. It's just a little girl I met in the park. I was trying to remember something. I didn't know I'd brought it along with me. But still, this is different. It's good. It's very good. Do you know why I like it? I can see the past in it. Yes, sir, I've seen that little girl before, somewhere. Yet I couldn't tell you where. Do me a portrait of the little girl in the park, and I'll make you famous. It was on a Sunday morning that I saw Jenny again. There had been two or three weeks of clear, cold weather. And the big lake in the park at 72nd Street was frozen and good for skating. I found Jenny near the bridge. She was all in black velvet with a short, wide skirt and white boots attached to her round, old-fashioned skates. She seemed taller than I had remembered her. Older, too. Hello, Mr. Adams. Hello, Jenny. I didn't know it was you. You look older than last time. Well, maybe you didn't see me very good. Come along. Let's skate. Jenny, it seems to me that you've grown a lot since I saw you. I know. I'm hurrying, you see. How are your parents? They having a good season? Yes, they're in Boston now. Oh, I see. And you're here alone. Oh, I don't mind. You know, Jenny, I did a little sketch of you. I sold it. It brought me luck. Oh, I'm so glad. I wish I could see it. I'll do one someday just for you. Oh, grand. And did the man pay you much? $25, Jenny, a fortune. But most important is that Mr. Matthews, the man who bought the sketch of you, wants me to paint a portrait. Oh, who will it be of? Well, I don't know. I haven't found out yet. Then perhaps, will you let it be me? I don't know. Perhaps. Ray, I'm going to have my picture painted. Oh, Emily V, man. Emily? She's my best friend. She had her picture painted, and I said you were going to paint mine. And she said you'd never heard of you, so I slapped her. But I thought it was Cecily you always fought with. Cecily's dead. She had scarlet fever. Now my best friend's Emily. I thought you'd know. How would I know? Jenny, what's the matter? Are you cold? Yes. Well, come on. We'll get hot chocolate in the shelter. I love it. And how are you getting along in school? Oh, it's all right. I'm having French now. French? But you were just starting on sums when last I saw. I saw. I can say colors, and I can count to 10. Un, deux, trois, quatre. And I can say war in French, say la guerre. The war? What war? Oh, I don't know. It's just the war. They won't hurt children like me, will they? No, of course not. That's good. I don't like being hurt. There's lots of fun. Finished the chocolate? Then let's go and we'll skate once more around. Oh, yes. I'd hate it to stop because when will we ever have it again? Jenny, tell me, when did Cecily die? Two years ago. I tried to find Jenny, but it was no use, no use at all. Even my friend the taxi driver, Gus, wasn't much help. So what you want is I should find a girl whose name is Jenny. You don't know where she lives or anything about it? Well, her parents are jugglers. Their name is Appleton. Appleton? Appleton? There used to be an act with that name down at the old Hammerstein. That's right. That's where they were. Well, then, Mac, they'd be in the old folks' home by now. Oh, wait a minute. Seems I remember something about an accident of some sort. I don't know. You sure you seen this girl? Yes. I made some sketches of her. That don't signify. I was thinking maybe you made her up. No, I didn't make her up, Gus. OK, OK. I'll keep punching. But don't figure. That's all. The first snow was falling as I went home. I let myself in and Mrs. Jeeks came out of the parlor. There was suspicion, resentment, and a curious excitement in her. There you are at last. Yes, Mrs. Jeeks. What is it? You have a visitor, a young lady. Fine doings, I must say. Young lady? Fine doings, I must say. She's waiting for you up there. I wash my hands of all of it. Jenny. I thought maybe you wanted me to come, Evan. I've never been in a studio before. It's lovely. Oh, it's an awful place, Jenny. It's pretty dirty. Yes, it is. I didn't want to say it, but I guess as long as you said it first, I don't suppose you have an apron and something to dust with. You're not going to try to clean it? Yes, while the water's boiling for tea. All my sketches on the floor, wait, I'll pick them up. I was looking at these. Do you mind? Of course I don't mind. They're beautiful. I think you are a very good artist. Only some of them, I don't know where they are. I've never seen those places. Well, that's Radio City. They're new, I guess. They haven't been built very long. Yes, I guess that's it. It's funny how sometimes you've never seen things and still you know them. As though you were going to see them sometime and because you were going to see them, you could remember what they looked like. That doesn't sound right, does it? No. Sounds pretty mixed up. Yes, I guess it does. You couldn't remember what you hadn't ever seen. What am I thinking about? I haven't dusted at all. Never mind, Jenny. We'll have tea. Evan, Emily and I are going away to boarding school. I don't want to go, but Mother says I have to. I'll miss you, Evan. I'll miss you too, Jenny. Will you pose for me before you go? Oh, I was hoping you'd say that. Yes, I will. Will you come tomorrow then? I don't know. I don't know if I can. The day after? I'll come as soon as I can. You're not sad anymore, are you, Evan? I mean, you were so sad the first time I saw you. No, Jenny, I'm fine now. I was scared that night I met you. I felt as though I were lost. No, oh no. Don't ever say that. Not ever again. And besides, you weren't lost. You were here, and here isn't lost. It can't be. It mustn't be. I couldn't bear it. We can't, both of us, be lost. Jenny, what a foolish way to talk. Yes, it's foolish. Don't let's talk about it anymore. Because with little girls like you, Yes, little girls like me. Here, go wash the tea cups before you forget. All right, Jenny. Wait for me. I'll be right back. Yes, Evan. I'll wait for you. Jenny? Jenny, where are you? Jenny? Jenny, you said you'd wait. Jenny. And see the refreshing difference. The House of Square presents part two of Academy Award, starring Joan Fontaine with John Lund in portrait of Jenny. Paired a five-foot canvas. I stretched and mounted it, wet one side of it with water, and worked in a light surface of white lead with my palette knife. Then I set it out to dry. After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Jenny came at the end of the week. She looked pale, and she was dressed in some kind of mourning. Evan, it's father and mother. They're dead. Oh. They had an accident. I know. I mean, I read about it in the paper. Oh, yes. I'm sorry, Jenny. They were sweet to me. I didn't used to see them very much, but the way they died. I know. Oh, Evan. Look, Jenny, you don't want to pose today, do you? I mean, after this. I wanted to come. I wanted to see you, just to be here. Well, I might as well pose. I don't look very pretty, though. Pretty. Jenny, you're beautiful. Look, I'll pose you in this chair and put that piece of old yellow silk behind you. Now here, let me face you so you get the light. The picture I started that day needs no description, for most of you have seen it. The Metropolitan Museum calls it girl in a black dress. To me, it has always been simply Jenny. I must have been painting over two hours when I suddenly saw Jenny droop forward in her chair. I'm so tired, Evan. Oh, here. You must take some hot tea. I'm better now. I'm not so cold. I can sit again if you want me to. No. There's lots of time. No. There isn't. But I would do as you say. I'll rest if you say so. You're all I have now, Evan. Me, Jenny? Except for my aunt. Only I don't know her very well. She's going to take care of me from now on. Well, that's all right then, isn't it? You do want me to come, don't you? To pose, I mean. Oh, Jenny, Jenny. I'll come as soon as I can. Jenny, my darling. Yes, Evan. Jenny, where does your aunt live? Poor Evan. What does it matter where I live? You can't come to me. I can only come to you. Jenny, then it's true. Goodbye, Evan. I'll come back as soon as I can. I'll hurry, truly. But I didn't want you to know. Try to wait for me. Jenny came again. She seemed to stand on the threshold of vibrant young womanhood. I knew I must finish my portrait before it was too late. Oh, Evan, the girls at school keep asking me about you. But I won't tell them anything, except that you're very handsome. Oh, Jenny, don't be silly. And that you are a great artist, and that you nearly starved to death. They loved that part of it. They thought it was very romantic. He goes. Well, they did. And they think it's romantic by coming to see you like this. Well, perhaps it is. But we've got work to do. Oh, you're not angry with me. Evan, I was only joking. Of course I'm not angry. But let's get back to work, shall we? Evan. Uh-huh. I really didn't say you were handsome. Oh, no? I have a funny mind, I guess. Uh-huh. And you have a funny mind, too. Well, perhaps I have. Perhaps I have. I'd just turn your head a little to the right. Evan, do you think that people sometimes can know what lies ahead? I mean, what's going to happen to them? Nonsense. I don't know. I'm not so sure. You know how you feel sad about things sometimes? Things that haven't happened. Well, perhaps they're things that are going to happen. Perhaps we know it. And we're just afraid to admit it to ourselves. Why couldn't you, Evan, if you could see your head, feel sorry for what was coming. Only you wouldn't know that it was coming. You'd call it worry or something. Yeah? Mm-hmm. I think I've got it, Jenny. The portrait, I mean, you can rest while I wash up. But when I came back, she was gone. She left a note on the bed. Evan, dear, I'll be back someday, but not long. In the spring, I think. Spring was early that year. One day, the grass in the park smelled sweet and fresh. A robin sang on the lawn below the mall. And I took the portrait down to Mr. Matthews. Well, well, I mean to say, well, that's it. You mean you like it, Mr. Matthews? Like it. This picture, well, I don't like to use the word masterpiece. But if the museum were to take it. Yes, Mr. Matthews? It might bring more than $1,000. And as an advance, I think I can let you have $300. Truly, this was my spring. I walked on a soft air, and my heart sang. And suddenly, when the door opened, I didn't even turn my head. I knew it was Jenny. Hello, Evan. Jenny, dear, the picture it sold. Oh, Jenny, I'm rich and famous. Of course, Evan. I've always known. Jenny, let me look at you. Jenny, you've grown up. How are you, Evan? Yes. You're the most beautiful woman in the world. Thank you, Evan. I'm glad. I'm glad that you like me. You're out of boarding school? Well, I'm going to study in Paris now. You were there, weren't you? Is it very lovely? Tell me what to see, what to do, so that someday we'll have done it all together. Sit down, Jenny, and let me catch my breath. When you say Paris, I remember a room a friend of mine had. A room like the prow of a ship butting its way up the Seine. The river pouring by on both sides under the windows. Oh, perfect, Evan. Go on and on. It's like being there and living all those wonderful times now. Tell me more, Evan. Tell me. Evan, who is it? Evan, I have a feeling. Don't open that door. Don't open this door, eh? I thought so. No, you don't. Not at my house. I've run a decent place all my life, and I intend to keep it, though. Mrs. Jigs, what are you talking about? And you. How's he? Oh, I'm sorry, Evan. I didn't think. Get out! Stay still. Oh, Jenny, don't listen. Don't listen to her. It's too late now. It's been said. It couldn't ever not be said again. Goodbye, Evan. I'll be back someday. But not like this. Not ever like this again. Not until we can be together always. I moved away after that. I took a little house up on the New England coast, and I kept painting. Often I would sail. In September, a hurricane was reported in the Caribbean, but I paid little attention. I was too busy trying to put Jenny out of my mind. I might just as well have tried to stop the hurricane, which caught me as the little boat was running for home that afternoon. Somehow I got to the beach, and as I floundered ashore, I saw a wave coming towards me from the sea. Didn't look very high, just a line of brown foam with branches and sand in it. And then I saw her. She was below me to the east, struggling up the slope from the river. Another wave was coming. I could see it. I ran to her. I'm coming. Hold on, Jenny. Jenny! Jenny, I was afraid I wouldn't get here, Donny. Your face is cold. Here's your lift. Oh, I had to get back to you, Evan. We've got to move, Donny. Try to walk a little. You go, Evan. I can't make it. Jenny, help me. I can't lift you. Jenny. Let me look at you, Evan. Let me put my arms around you. Hold me close, Evan. Close. We're together now. Oh, dear God, yes. We're together now, Jenny. Evan, there's only one love. Nothing can change it. It's still all right, darling, whatever happens. Because we'll always be together somewhere. I know. Always, forever and ever. Evan, forever. Coming out of it. You all right, son? I grabbed you just in time. No. No. Where is she? Where's Jenny? Jenny. Jenny. Jenny. He's off. He's not. There wasn't anybody with him when that wave hit. In New York, I met Gus, the cab driver. He didn't say anything. Just handed me a clipping from a newspaper. Monday, September 22. The steamship Latanya reported today the loss of one of its passengers in a storm 100 miles off Nantucket Lightship. Miss Jenny, who was returning to America after a stay of several years abroad, was swept off the deck by a wave which smashed part of the bridge. Officials were trying to discover the whereabouts of this appletons relatives in this country. I thought maybe you didn't know. I'm sorry, Mac. No. No, I knew, Gus. It's still all right. It's all right. It's all right. I'll be waiting, Evan. It is at its best when you feel your best. And squibbdental cream helps to give you a wide awake, exhilarating feeling of refreshment every time you use it. The very first instant you discover its cool sparkling mintiness, you'll know why squibbdental cream has changed the wholesome habit of brushing your teeth into a delightfully new and refreshing experience. As you brush, the brisk tingling action of squibbdental cream wakes up your mouth, makes it feel fresh and young and clean. You'll find yourself meeting people with new poise and assurance because you've given your charm the protection it deserves, the protection of pure, fragrant, refreshing squibbdental cream. So tomorrow, ask for squibbdental cream. Taste, feel, and see the refreshing difference. Next Wednesday, the House of Squib will present Academy Award, starring Peter Loughard and Joan Loring in Enchanted Cottage. Joan Fontaine is currently engaged in the Universal International Production Ivy. John Lund may soon be seen in the Paramount Technicolor Production, Parals of Pauline. Portrait of Jenny will shortly be produced as a Selznick international picture, starring Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotton. This is Hugh Brundage bidding you goodnight until next Wednesday at the same time when you're invited to listen again to Academy Award, presented by the House of Squib, a name you can trust. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.