 The Hall of the Ivy, featuring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Goldman. Welcome again to Ivy. Ivy College, that is, in the town of Ivy, USA. It might reasonably seem that after many years of experience, the opportunities and importunities of a college president's life would have become so standardized and so repetitious that all problems could be settled by rule of thumb. But the trouble with using a rule of thumb is that it's too frequently one knuckle short of adequacy. As Dr. Hall, Ivy's president says to his wife, the former Victoria Cromwell of the English Theatre, Vicki, do you know what my father used to say? But I've heard of great makings your father used to say, darling, although I'm sure you often confuse what he used to say with what you're about to say. In this instance, there's no confusion. He rarely said it. Said what? He said, the uses of adversity may be sweet, but they are definitely not fattening. Well, that's very good. From what you tell me of your father, Toddie, Confucius was just an Oriental Milton Berle by comparison. I'd hardly go that far, my darling, although they probably did have one thing in common. Your father and Milton Berle? No, no, no, no, my father and Confucius. Oh, yeah, well, both philosophers, huh? Well, yes, but I was referring rather to my father's fondness for the Chinese game of mahjong. Mahjong? Confucius? Well, isn't that like saying Napoleon played a hard game of gin-rummy? It may be a slight anachronism, but the Chinese have played mahjong for eight centuries, at least. Well, when they pick up a fad, they hang on to it, don't they? A very tenacious race, and one which I have long admired. Compare Canasta and Mahjong. In only two or three years, we have introduced Canasta, changed rules, added variations, improved it, transformed it into a game called samba, and will probably within a short time discard it. On the other hand, mahjong played for a thousand years with few, if any, variations. How did we get here? Oh, here in China, we started with your inscrutable father, who we left standing on the devious dock, and then, regretfully, leaving the beautiful pagan island of Rula-Bula, whose happy natives waved farewell from the palm-line shore, we once again boarded our great white ship in the harbor of Fui Fui, the Salaway! No, no, no, please, please, stop the film. Oh, isn't that right? You're out of popcorn? No, but I wasn't asking for a complete resume of the... Oh, oh, I remember. Yet it started with my father's observation on the sweet but non-fastening uses of adversity. Well, it's nice to be home again, isn't it? But what's the adversity, something in the morning male? A very shrewd and quite feminine deduction. Well, what's feminine about it? The instinctive reaction of a female in the presence of a communication on paper. Oh, bad news, undoubtedly. Hold the telegram up to the light. Shake the envelope. Listen to the package. On the other hand, a woman responds to the ring of a telephone with the happy anticipation of great good fortunes and... You answered, yes, probably bad news. Ah, the link to which a wife will go to shatter her husband's complacency. Dr. Hall speaking. Who? Who, yes, yes. Yes, I just read your letter. And I'm glad to talk to you. Yes, please do. Come right over. Goodbye. Yes, I take it. It referred to the adversity in the morning male. Yes, although adversity is probably too strong a word, except that it poses a problem for Brexit. That was Dr. Franklin Jarvis, Isaac Glass of 23. Dr. Jarvis, M.D., Ph.D., D.D.T.? No, thank you. My darling, a D.D.T. is not a degree. In this case, it is D.D., a Doctor of Divinity, which makes the phrase, let us pray, quite a different matter. And Dr. Jarvis has a son here at I.P. Ben Jarvis. You know him? Not well, but I know who he is. Wherever you see a bunch of students around a piano singing or dancing or just listening, the boy at the piano is probably Ben Jarvis. Oh, I see. Is he gifted? Definitely. Do you remember Kevin Numbine, the last junior folly? There was a piano Numbine, which the piano went to complete discord at the end. It was called the Wreck of the Old 88. Oh, yes, yes. Yes, it was very amusing. Yes, although the title had and still has me a bit baffled. Well, in musical circles, yes, well, at least in non-tascical circles, a piano is known as an 88. The 88 keys, you know. Oh, oh, the Wreck of the... Oh, yes, yes, I... You see, there's a clarinet now. It's called a licorice stick. And a xylophone, a wood pile, the drums are known as the skin. And the trombone is a thick horn and fiddles the scratchbox. The bass is a doghouse. Thank you. Thank you, darling. I'm happy to be married to such an informed critic. Well, nobody deems me a tailor, but, sir, I... I know my way around the pop. The pop. Popular music. Oh, oh, I... I was afraid you were referring to the more elderly musicians. Now then, what were we saying about Marjon? Oh, no, no, darling, we left Marjon 20 minutes ago. We were up to the Reverend Franklin Jarvis. Oh, yes, the Reverend Jarvis is perturbed. He's on his way over for advice and assistance. Well, one doesn't usually think of a clergyman asking for help and advice from a layman. It's like a dentist asking what to do for a dootake. On the contrary, I suppose a conscientious churchman cannot dismiss his troubles as easily as one who is not so concerned for the human soul. He, most of all, knows that one person's small trouble is like a pebble cast into a pond. The spreading ripples can disturb the water to the father's shore. Well, I suppose that's the pebble. Ask them out and let them in. Let me see now. Things to remember. Psylophone is a doghouse. Piano is an A.T.A. Karenette is a doghouse. Yes, indeed. A doctor who is expecting you, please come in. Thank you. Here, Dr. Jarvis. How do you do? Good morning, sir. I have been in this house before, I think, for a disciplinary reason. A 1921 and 22. Well, one doesn't think of a divinity student requiring discipline, Dr. Jarvis, more than anyone. While I'm not an advocate of unsmiring grimness and religion, an undisciplined shepherd is incapable of controlling his flock. Don't you agree, doctor? I gather you consider your son Ben one of the undisciplined, doctor. Yes, doctor, I... Excuse me, I don't like to interrupt. But is there somewhere you could avoid that, yes, doctor, no, doctor, exchange? I feel like I was in the middle of a consultation about my appendix. It is a little confusing, isn't it? However, I am frequently and quite properly addressed as Mr. Frankly, I am less concerned with titles than with my errands. President Hall... President! Now, that's all that you say. President Hall, I am concerned about my son Ben. Well, I think I know why, but I'd like to hear your views. Very well. I am a clergyman. My father, Franklin Jarvis, Sr. was a clergyman. His father, John War Jarvis, was a famous churchman. Of course, yes, John Jarvis, known affectionately to his congregation as Jack in the Puppet. Yes, my own father knew him very well. And admired him. Thank you. Anyway, with an unbroken line of ministers in the Jarvis family, I naturally wanted Ben to keep up the tradition. Took it for granted, I'm afraid. So I find he's majoring in music, but I want your help in getting him back on the right track. You know, he's a very talented musician. Isn't it possible he is on the right track? Dr. Jarvis, one of my duties as president of this college is to act as far as I am equipped and capable as a vocational counselor to see that talents are channeled, natural tendencies properly guided and mere avocations subordinated to a principal objective. But in Ben's case, the ministry is the principal objective, although he doesn't seem to realize it. Well, it's a fine calling, Dr. Jarvis, but is it a call if you don't hear it? I'm afraid Ben hasn't listened. He couldn't be a fourth-generation Jarvis without feeling some urge toward the church. I don't want to force the boy into a field for which he feels no interest or for which he has no gift. But I do feel that this musical excursion of his is merely a tangent, a temporary fascination and that his real, his inherited vocation is preaching the gospel. Now, believe me, Dr. Jarvis, I can readily see your point and I sympathize with it. I should like to talk to your sons with you present any time you say so. If, as you believe, his instinct unrecognized is for the ministry, I should be only too glad to help put him right. However, if I feel music is his real goal, I should have to encourage it in every way possible. I think William the Dr. Jarvis feels Ben doesn't really know himself yet and a little push in the right direction might do the trick. Exactly, Mrs. Hall. It isn't that I want to exert any unfair pressure on the boy, but in later years I wouldn't want to know that the church had lost a great judgment for want of help and encouragement. It's quite understandable. And I almost hope that people see things your way, Dr. Jarvis. These are days of confusion, uncertainty, and cynicism. I think the world would welcome a new voice which could inspire a renaissance of hope and faith. I have prayed for Ben to be that voice. Of course you have, Dr. Jarvis. But if the prayer has not answered your way, it may very well mean that the answer is wise as in the request. Yes, I know. Not being omnipotent ourselves, we must adjust to the power that is. My friend Dr. George Headley, a chaplain of Mills College in California, wrote a prayer which expresses it very well. It goes my father, God, who walketh here with me, I know thy steps are shortened for my sake. This is my prayer that I may learn to take a longer stride to keep in pace with thee. Vicky dear, will you see if you can get Ben Jarvis on the phone? Hello Mrs. Hall awaiting the arrival of the Reverend Franklin Jarvis and his son Ben, who seems to prefer the study of music to the study of religion. Mrs. Hall says, Charlie, I do hope Ben Jarvis goes on with music. Yes darling, I know what you mean. A composer who can lift the spirits of a million people with a song is to me a definite force for good. And as much on the side of the angels as any theologian. Yeah, like the old poem by Guy Carroll, do you remember? No, I... You call it a waste of time, this taste for popular music and yes, goodbye to care when you whistle the air, the song you can't forget. That I think is what I was trying to say. Well, Ben Jarvis, he's nice. Oh yes, I agree with you. He's that happy medium between the humilist bigot and the hail fellow type, who thinks he must knock his parishioners into their pews with a slap on the back. Yes. Do you remember that sweet little bicker we met when we were on that bicycle trip in England? Oh yeah. Where was it? Blastonbury? Yes, yes, I believe it was, Blastonbury. The Blastonbury Inn, where we stopped to get some of the local cheddar. I always loved the Somerset country. Do you remember when we rode up to the inn and got off our bicycle and then you said... Yeah, Victoria. Well, Victoria. Yes, William. Let's pull up a few minutes, shall we? I want some cheddar. Some what? Cheddar, cheese. Didn't you say they make it near here? No, but that's what I get for letting you read the guide books before I take you somewhere. You always talk more about the places than I do. But do let's talk. It's heavenly here. Well, wait till I take these clips and they plow the cuffs. They make me look like a paratrooper. Oh, you look lovely as a paratrooper with your yellow jersey and your brown face and a little cast of hair sticking up at the back. I like being with you, William. Oh, when you look at me like that, I'm still floating in air. I wonder if love has the power to suspend the law of gravity. Oh, I'm sure it does. It's working on me, too. I'm down to earth for ages. I must be a girl, paratrooper. Welcome to the regiment, my sweet. I shall award you herewith the Order of the Beating Heart for beauty beyond all reasonable requirements. Peanut on and kiss me. Oh, darling. Oh, Victoria, you're lovely. And oh, what lovely country this is. Well, of course. We're in the True Vale of Avalon. It breathes history. Camelock is right over there. And when King Arthur came riding down there... Oh, oh, oh! I'm so disappointed. Madam, the regret is mine for having met the great Victoria Cromwell so late in life and after entering the clergy. Well, well, thank you. And I really didn't mean to stab the local clergy in the eye. So, Miss Cromwell, things are not so lost controlled in my vicarage that one I would not be sufficient. Pardon me, sir, for the intrusion. I am George Willis. Oh, no intrusion at all, Vicar. My name is William Hall, and I'm engaged to marry Miss Cromwell, an announcement which I am prepared to make on any and all occasions. I gathered as much. England's loss will be America's gain. Or am I jumping to conclusion? Oh, no, no. It was a very accurate guess. Well, how did you know, Mr. Willis? Oh, in several ways. Mr. Hall's obvious discomfort in riding his bicycle on the left side of the road is quite American clothing and the fact that no true Englishman would have the temerity to take any action, matrimonial or otherwise, which would remove Miss Victoria Cromwell from British soil. It makes me sound like a monument. Vicar, Vicar, I can understand your grief at Miss Cromwell's imminent departure, but at the same time, I am proud to add to my own country's art treasure. Oh, go on, go on. I'm loving every minute of it. We were just admiring your countryside, Vicar. The professor said it breathes history. Yes, it's true. Under one of those mounds, we call them the Mount of St. Michael's, it's supposed to lie buried the Holy Grail, brought to this place by Joseph of Arimathea. This is consecrated ground. It has both a secular and a religious history. One can feel it. The guidebooks also speak of the Holy Thorn. Yes, at Christmas time, the Holy Thorn planted from the staff of Joseph bursts into bloom on these hillsides. At that time, it becomes a mecca for the devout. And when the bells start ringing, which seem to echo from the cathedral city of Wells, a short distance over the hills, I can hear them now, the chimes from the cathedral. Oh, yeah, that's the doorbell. The doorbell of the inn, but I didn't see it anywhere else. Come on. I was a blast and very, my dear, with you. And the little vicar. You know, we never did get that cheddar. Well, we'll go back sometime, darling. He'll save some for us. Oh, I'm being very rude, keeping our own visiting vicar standing at the door. Excuse me. Dr. Jarvis, come in, please. Thank you. And this is Ben? Yes, sir. We were afraid for a moment we'd miss touch time, Dr. Hall. Oh, no, no. And I apologize for not answering the bell sooner. We were reminiscing about another churchman, and, oh, oh, Victoria. May I present Ben Jarvis? Hello, Ben. Hello, Mrs. Hall. Mrs. Hall. I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Hall, finally. You know, if I may say so without sounding fresh, I... Well, no, I better not. Oh, no. Go ahead, Ben. I have a feeling it was complimentary. Well, I was going to say that Mrs. Hall is a kind of pin-up girl with a lot of the students. Ben, please. I don't think... No, no, quite the contrary, Dr. Jarvis. Mrs. Hall would indeed. Now, thank you, Ben. It was very nice. Well, if she's done so much for the music and drama classes, that... Oh, you know. I know quite well, Ben, and I'm as pleased as she is. I, um... I understand you have a great gift for music. Oh, I don't know about being gifted, Dr. Hall, but I love it. And I've had three songs published. Next year, I expect to make enough on my music to pay expenses the rest of the way through college. I find that I've come on a fairly fruitless era, Dr. Hall. I talked to Ben on the way over here. Oh, then you've made a definite decision, Ben, between music and carrying on the family tradition? Yes, sir, I have. Believe me, I'm sorry to wreck my father's plans, and it was no snap decision, either. But I'd feel more at home playing the organ in the church than preaching from the pulpit. But, Ben, your whole background, your heritage, your family for three generations has been identified with the church. Yes, sir, I realize that. I guess I'm a biological sport. If I may say so, Dr. Jarvis, I don't think the Jarvis has lost a family gift. I think maybe they've gained one. I'm not closing my mind to that thought, Mrs. Hall, but I do think that in these troubled times, there is a higher calling than turning out popular tunes, profitable as it seems to be. Oh, I doubt if history has written many pages which were not called troubled. And as long as your son has made a firm and definite decision, I cannot but applaud his courage. I'm sure it wasn't an easy choice. Dr. Hall is right, Dad. It was a real struggle. It isn't the money or the successor seeing my name on a lead sheet. It's just that, well, anything I have to say, I can say better with music. It's good music, Ben. It says something you can reach a lot of people with it. I think so too, Mrs. Hall. I really think I can do some good with music. I'm sure you can. A light air can sometimes lift a heavy heart, which is an organ everyone possesses and for which all great music is composed. I'm afraid I'm outvoted, President Hall. All I can say to Ben now is good luck. And don't forget your grace now. Thanks, Dad. Mrs. Hall, may I use your piano? Well, of course you may. Why, Ben? Just to show you that I'm not completely frivolous about this, I'd like to play a song I wrote while I was wrestling with my conscience. Well, we'd all like to hear the song, Ben. What's it called? It's called, I Just Telephone Upstairs. Here it is. I Just Telephone I need to drop a nickel in it all and the boss is there. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe I can still preach my own way. Castle's in the air is all right, Ben. If you put foundations under them, that's good advice, son. I'll take it. Miss Hall is the first violinist in our Henry Russell Orchestra and the composer of I Just Telephone Upstairs presented tonight for the first...