 Family Theater presents Anne Blythe, Robert Stack, and Jack Bailey. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theater presents transcribed Round Trip, starring Anne Blythe and Robert Stack. To introduce the drama, here's your host, Jack Bailey. Thank you, Tony LaTromo. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives. If we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our drama, Round Trip, starring Anne Blythe as Liz and Robert Stack as Jack. It's Monday morning and as the Long Island train slows for its scheduled stop at West Hampton, Elizabeth Brownlee looks idly out of the window at the crowded platform. Now these are commuters, the working people whose lives are built around the arrival and departure of the train that carries them to their job in the city and home again. And usually on a Monday morning, among the regular passengers, you can spot the telltale suitcase of a city dweller returning from a weekend in the country. Like the man who just got on. Now his suitcase not only identifies him as a returning vacationist, but is an ex-serviceman as well, for it's an old beat-up flight blank. Elizabeth continues to stare out the window as the man spots the empty seat beside it, makes a dash for it, drops the flight bag at his feet, and sinks wearily into the red plush. Phew, I made it. I beg your pardon? I said I... Hey, I must be going crazy. Why, Jack? Yeah, it's true. It's really true, isn't it? What are you doing out here? I'm sorry, Liz. Ladies first. Well, I guess I'm just sort of surprised to see you. You know what you mean. How are you, Liz? Fine. Just fine. You look fine, just as pretty as ever. You look awful good yourself. I'll be darned. Yeah, me too. I guess this is a spot where I'm supposed to say it's a small world. Yeah, I guess it is. You'll have to forgive me if I seem to stare at you, but it's been a long time, Liz. It has been a very long time. Yeah. Well, this is swell. I have visions of a dull trip. Here I am with a beautiful gal to talk to. But she's not saying anything. I'm sorry. You don't live in West Hampton. Oh, no, no. Just out with some friends weekend in the country. One more of those and I'm finished. It's really rough. I didn't think you'd ever take to the country. You never did seem to like the wide open spaces. Bright lights? Yeah, bright lights. Can't get over it, Liz. Running into you like this, it's... What are you doing here? Live out here somewhere? No, no. Been staying with some friends out in Montauk weekend in the country. And like you said, it's really rough. Well, you always were a city girl, as I remember. That was one thing they both agreed on. Yeah. Nobody ever loved the dirty old city the way we did. Nobody ever loved the dirty old city the way we did. And nobody ever loved each other the way we did. I remember the first time we met. New Year's Eve and Times Square. Everything was crazy with us right from the start. It was noisy and bright and wonderful. And you were out with a girl named Mary and I was with a boy named Clay. And somehow in the crowd I lost Clay and you lost Mary. And the next thing I knew we were together, close together. And in all the thousands of screaming, shoving people, we were alone. I'm gonna kiss you, Liz. I know. I've been wanting to do that all night. Let's get out of this market. But what about Mary and Clay? I hope they'll be very happy together. You're crazy. So are you. Come on. We walked around the city for the rest of the night. Watch the morning come to town. Do you like this town the way I do? Don't you, Liz? No, I guess I do. Do you want it? I'll give it to you. Oh, we'd better find Clay and Mary. Forget about Clay and Mary. It's a new day and a new year and I'm giving you the greatest city in the world for a happy new year present. Now, do you want it or don't you? Sure I do. It's yours. All the bridges, the noise, the high buildings, subways, lights, the automatic. And me. I'm gonna kiss you again. I know. Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry. That's the way it was right from the start. Crazy and wonderful. We thought we had the world by the tail. In a way, we did. Our part of the world. What did you say, Liz? Nothing. I didn't say anything. I was just thinking. Oh. It sure seems funny running into you like this. Somehow I had an idea I would never see you again. It's funny, all right. Last I heard of you, you were flying a V-17 over Berlin. Who told you that? Felon named Clay. Don't know if you remember him, but he remembered you all right. You don't mean that Clay, what's his name, the kid that took you out that New Year's Eve? Yeah, that's the one. That was quite a night. It's been so long you've probably forgotten it. You, uh, want a cigarette? No thanks. I don't smoke. Never learned how, huh? You remember the day I tried to teach you? And you got so mad because I kept puffing out instead of it. Yeah. Yeah, it's funny how you remember a little thing like that. It's funny how I remember everything about you. Looking at you now. Sitting there beside me. If you only knew all the things I remember. The way it was fun to just walk down the street with you. Even in the rain we used to stomp around. And that one night I was really pouring. We'd taken the Staten Island ferry just for the ride because where else can you take a cruise for five cents? I've got more water in my pockets than this old scouse got to float on. And do you want to go inside? No, do you? No. Of course you realize that we're both out of our minds. I don't think so. Look, look, look straight ahead. Now what do you see? The Statue of Liberty. Some people spend a fortune to get on a boat sail clear across the ocean, turn around and sail back. Just to have the thriller being welcomed home by the lady with a torch in her hand. Hey, that was quite a speech. I liked it. I like you. I love you. Come here, Liz. You look like a puppy that fell in the rain barrel, but you're the most beautiful girl in the world. We're gonna get married. Get married? Oh, you want to marry me, don't you? Yes, yes, I do. But what? Gee, I don't know. I guess I just didn't think about it. I haven't had time to think about it. I've only known you two weeks and three days. And what? And 26 minutes. But I guess I couldn't love you anymore if I'd known you for 300 years. I haven't got any money, Liz. I haven't got any things except a room with a view, a shaky job with a second rate publishing house. Oh, we've got each other. That's the important thing. Yeah. That's the important thing. That was the important thing. Then it was. And I held you close, and the sky fell apart, and the rain came down. I haven't forgotten, Liz. I haven't forgotten a thing. It's raining. What? I said it's raining. It was raining then, too. It was what? Nothing, Liz. I wish they serve food on these trains. I'm hungry. That's the way you always were. Right from the start, crazy and wonderful and hungry. You asked me to marry you, and we were on a ferry boat in the pouring rain, and I said yes. Did you say something, Liz? I thought you said something. I haven't said anything since I said it was raining. It's still raining. It's really beginning to come down, isn't it? I hope someone's meeting at the station. Is someone meeting you? No. What do you do, Liz? Oh, I'm a working girl. Work at Lynch and Lawyer Advertising Agency. Oh, pounding a typewriter. Could you marry anyone I know? No. I didn't marry anyone. Would you like a cigarette? I'm sorry I asked you that before, didn't I? Uh-huh. It looks like a real storm out there, doesn't it? Uh-huh. Not married. How'd a pretty girl like you keep from getting married? I haven't had a bit of trouble. Not a bit. All you have to do is run. Run hard and fast. I wonder if you're thinking about the same thing I am right now. You'd almost have to be being on a train with me, talking about being married. But maybe you've forgotten. It's been a long time. I wish I could forget, but I never will. That night on the Staten Island ferry when you said... We're gonna get married. Get married? You want to marry me, don't you? Oh, yes. Yes, I do. But what? Gee, I don't know. I guess I just didn't think about it. I haven't had time to think about it. I've only known you two weeks and three days. And what? And 26 minutes. But I guess I couldn't love you anymore if I'd known you for 300 years. I haven't got any money, Liz. I haven't got anything except a room with a view or a shaky job with a second-rate publishing house. Oh, we've got each other. That's the important thing. That was the important thing. We had each other. And we got off the ferry boat and ran through the rain to look in the window at Tiffany. What do you have, Liz? Oh, what shall I choose? A circle of diamonds or a plain O, but also smart gold band? Liz. What? One day I'll buy you the whole window full. Oh, I know you will. It doesn't matter. What about the shaky job? The one room with a view? Well, maybe you'd better show me the view. I'm right behind you. Only one more flight and... Liz, it isn't much of a room. Well, how's the view? On a clear day you can see Macy's basement. It was a beautiful view, right smack into a brick wall, but oh, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that we loved each other and we were going to get married the sooner the better. What about it, Liz? Don't you think you ought to tell your folks? No, no, they'd try to talk me out of it. I know they wouldn't. I don't want to be talked out of it. I want everything to stay just as it is. Nobody else in the world, just you and me. I don't want you to be sorry. I'd go crazy if I made John happy. Hey. Hey. You're not changing your mind. I'll never change my mind about you. And the next thing I remember, we were at Penn Station waiting for the train and it was raining. And we were running away to get married and live happily ever after. Scared, Liz? No. Your hands are like ice. You are scared. You're sure you want to go. You don't want to change your mind, do you? No, of course I don't. Do you? What made you ask that? I don't know. You're so quiet and I've never seen you act so serious. Everything married is serious. Yeah. I can't believe we're really doing it. I mean, now that we really are. What do you mean? Nothing. What time is it? You just asked me two minutes ago. I wonder if Mom's got my letter by now. She's probably crying her eyes out. Oh, quit it, will you? I'm sorry. You've been through that a hundred times. I'm beginning to feel like a criminal. I know and I am sorry. She'll get over it. I know she won't. She ain't leaving on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington. This is it, Liz? Yeah, this is it. Liz? Yes, Jack? Nothing. Come on, let's do it. Shaking. I know. I guess I am, too. Come here. Jack? You don't have to marry me. You know that, don't you? All aboard! Jack, I... What were you gonna say? You don't want to go through with it, do you? You don't want to marry me. It isn't that. You've got to understand that it isn't that. Then what is it? I don't know. I guess I'm just scared. I keep thinking about so many things. About what if you lost your job or we got sick or maybe you'd be different, or I'd be different and we wouldn't have fun anymore. And I keep thinking about my Mom. I can't help it and you can't blame me for it. I keep wondering how I can be happy knowing that I've broken her heart. But, Liz, look, you... All aboard! I just can't explain it to you, Jack. It just seems like everything's happened so fast. Too fast and crazy. I'm scared because I love you. Come on, Liz. I'll take you home. Oh, Jack! Don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry. But I couldn't stop crying. And it started raining again and you took me home. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell you that it wasn't because I didn't love you. All of a sudden I realized that marriage isn't built on a ferryboat ride. It needs thought and understanding. It needs wisdom. The kind of wisdom I didn't have then. And I knew it. I've learned a lot since then and with it all I've kept on loving you. If only. If only. Did you say something? No, I was thinking again. I seem to be doing a lot of that all of a sudden. Well, don't let me disturb your thoughts. Oh, you'd laugh if you knew what I was thinking about. I would? Mm-hmm. I guess you're asking me if I was married made me think about it. About the night we tried to elope, almost ran off to Maryland to get married and didn't. Remember? Yeah. Yeah, I remember. I wonder how many other kids have done the same thing, gotten scared at the last minute. You cried all the way home. I'd never seen you cry before. I didn't know what to say to you. You didn't say anything and I don't blame you. I was pretty silly. I wish I could tell you, Liz, wish I could tell you that you weren't silly. We just weren't ready for what happened to us. I know that now. Somewhere the timing got all mixed up. I was scared too, but I wouldn't admit it. I was scared because I started thinking ahead for the first time, thinking about the responsibilities I'd have, wondering if I could handle them. And what if I couldn't? What would happen to us? After that night, everything seemed to fall apart. Maybe it's because we both felt guilty that we'd let each other down. I don't know why, but we couldn't talk anymore. But I never stopped loving you, not for a minute. I remember the last time I saw you. It was kind of funny. It was New Year's Eve again, 1941. The crowd in Times Square wasn't quite so gay. You're with a boy named Clay, and you look so surprised when I called to you. Liz, how are you, Liz? Oh, just fine. Just wanted to wish you a happy New Year. Oh, thanks, Jack. Same to you. I called you the other day. Oh, I know, and I've been meaning to call back, but I've got a job now. I... Oh, sure. Sure, I know. Oh, look, Clay's waiting, and I'd better... Yeah. Yeah, you don't want to keep Clay waiting. I'd better run. I'll see you, Jack. Liz, wait a minute. I... Liz! I called you, but you disappeared in the crowd. I wanted to tell you that I was going away, but I'd enlisted in the Air Corps. I never saw you again, and now you're sitting here beside me in a train. We're home, Jack. Huh? We're here in the station. Last stop, Principal Venue Station. Principal Venue Station. Oh, here, I'll carry that bag for you. Watch your step. Well, I guess this is... It certainly wasn't nice seeing you, Jack. Yeah. I guess I'd better get going. Well, I'll carry your bag out for you. Get your cab. How would you? Sure, come on. The old Venue Station hasn't changed much, has it? Same old station. Will your wife be needing you? No. I didn't get married either. The cabs are over here. Look, Liz, maybe I could call you some time. Where are you living? Same place. No kidding. How about you? I've got a room with a little better view than I used to have. Special train for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. Now loading on track nine. Liz? Yeah. Nothing. Train leaving on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. Jack? Yeah. Yeah, go on. What were you going to say? I was just going to say that sometimes don't you think people are confused and frightened because they're faced with something so important they're afraid they can't live up to us. You mean marriage, Liz? Is that what you mean? Yeah. That's what I mean. I know a guy who's scared the death of it once. He's changed. So is she. Train leaving on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. That train on track nine, it goes to Baltimore. That's in Maryland. Uh-huh. Liz, you want to get on that train? Yeah. Do you? Then let's, but not now. Those trains leave every hour, every day of the week. Liz, let's pick a special one after we get to know each other again, after we're sure. Oh, we'll be sure this time. Come here. I'm going to kiss you. I know. Now come on. I'll take you home. We've got things to talk about. Okay. Oh, but Jack. Huh? Get a couple of candy bars first, will you? I'm hungry. Jack Bailey again. You know, once there was a farmer and it happened that half of his land was very good for farming, while the other half gave him no yield at all because it was on a mountain side, and this was a great cause of worry to this farmer. So one night he got down on his knees and he prayed very hard. He prayed that God would flatten the mountain and make it a nice green pasture so that he might use all his land for planting. When the daylight came and the farmer looked out of his window, the mountain was gone. And before his eyes were acres and acres of green meadow. God had given him exactly what he had asked for, and for a time he was delighted. But when the fall came and brought its winds, the mountain which had served as a windbreak was gone and the farmer's barn was blown down. And when winter came, the rain caused his grain to mildew because he no longer had a barn in which to store it. In the spring, he had nothing to plant because the rain had caused even his seed grain to spoil. When summer came, there wasn't any drinking water because there were no more melting snows to feed the rivers and so the rivers had gone dry. Now, you see how much better off the farmer would have been if God had said no to his prayer? Well, we're like the farmer in some ways. We sometimes pray for the wrong things, too. And when we do, thanks be to God, we generally get a no answer. But there are intentions for which we may all pray that are right. And one of them is world peace, unity in the family of nations. If the families of the world would all ask God for that, which would be for the eventual good of all mankind, then he could not help but say, yes. It's a good intention to work toward, and when you do, pray together as a family, and you'll be accomplishing something else, too, for the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, Family Theater has presented Round Trip, starring Anne Blythe and Robert Stack. Jack Bailey was your host. Also in our cast was Billy Baucom. The script was written by Martha Wilkerson, with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, and was directed and transcribed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home, and inviting you to be with us next week when Family Theater will present the Passion and Death of Our Lord, narrated by McDonald Kerry. Join us, won't you? This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.