 Transcribed. The beer that made Milwaukee famous presents the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Good evening. This is Ronald Coleman. And Benita Coleman. On behalf of our sponsors, the brewers of Schlitz Beer, we welcome you back to another school year on the campus of Ivy College. Welcome again to Ivy, Ivy College, that is, in the town of Ivy USA, which is still in the throes of settling down to the academic year. The professors are still scanning new faces for signs of concealed intelligence. The football coaches and the coeds are estimating the approximate number of attempted passes in the coming season, and the Board of Governors is rechecking its list of wealthy alumni. Object, sentimental extortion. As Ivy's president, Dr. William Todd Hunter Hall says to his wife, the former Victoria Cromwell of the London stage, at this time of the year, I feel like the director of the Mint, taking in raw metal to be turned out as coin of the realm, stamped to a certain pattern, but put to a million various uses. At least that's what he intends to say as soon as she gets off the telephone. Well, I simply love to, Eddie, but let's wait till school settles down a bit, shall we? Oh no, darling, I'm sure you won't mind. I know a few days in New York, and you'll be wonderful fun. Well, come over for lunch Friday, we'll talk about it. Yes. Bye, Eddie. Hello, Toddy dear. I was wondering when you were, what's the matter? No, nothing, really. I was simply wondering how I could cry into your affairs long enough to learn who Eddie is. Eddie? Eddie. Whom you are sure I won't mind if you spend a few days in New York with? If you'll pardon the atrocious sentence structure. The Eddie I was just talking to, Ed Wiener Carrington, Professor Carrington's wife, Eddie Carrington. Oh, oh, oh. Yes, yes, I, I thought it must be she. You thought nothing of the kind, you handsome green-eyed monster, you. You were teetering my love on the brink of jealousy. I was not teetering. The word indicates a certain lack of control. No, I was gathering myself for a plunge right into it. Well, how'd the morning go, darling? Oh, it passed in the familiar welter of unnecessary confusion. The usual autumnal kaleidoscope. Kaleidoscope? What colourful you mean? No, I mean the, the scope of every operation seems to collide with all the others. Oh, well, you're never happier than when your telephone's ringing, your door's flying open, your desk is shoulder high, but you better answer it, yes, probably a crisis of some kind. As the comedian said to Clyde Beatty, good up your lions, boy. I hope it's something really devastating and crucial. I'm tired of puny, picky you and little problems, not worthy of me. Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Hall. Oh, yes, Professor. I see. Well, don't take it too much to heart, Professor. This is just the warm-up period, you know. We, we had, by all means, please do. I'll be here. Got a nice juicy one, Doctor. Well, I, I don't quite know. That was Professor Valdeck, new this year. What particular brand of information does he strive to impart to the eager, it says here, student? Genetics. Genetics. Oh, well, ask a silly question, get a silly answer. What is Professor Valdeck's trouble? Oh, let's wait and hear it from him. He's coming right over, now. Now, now, what are we talking about? Well, how glad you were to be back. Well, I am glad to be back, in spite of such a splendid summer. Now, we saw a lot of country, didn't we? You're positively frightening. What earth can a country as large as the United States be run by a little town way over on the edge of it? And why isn't the capital in the middle someplace? Incidentally, where is the middle? Geographically, in Central Kansas. You know, Washington DC must be two or three thousand miles away from it. It doesn't seem reasonable. The explanation is simple, my darling. The residents of Washington DC do not vote. Politicians feel much more comfortable having offices in a community where the citizens have no ballot. It's restful. How would you like to do more American exploring next summer? More? You mean we didn't see all of it? We didn't see a tenth of it. Personally, I'd like to continue the tour. I was tremendously interested in talking to people along the way. Interested and I must admit a little disturbed. Well, then why do it again if it disturbs you? Let's call it an urge for diagnosis. I want to see in what degree the brassy courage, the inherent confidence, the spit in your eye independence of our hickory, shirted ancestors has disappeared. I think it has disappeared? Not necessarily, but it's symptomatic when a freeborn American citizen fears to sign a test copy of the Constitution of the United States for fear that it might be used against him. Oh, dear, that old hammer and sickle so symbolic, making hay with the sickle while they knock down the barn with the hammer. We should face our collective fears. It's too bad we can't be psychoanalyzed on a national scale. Can't get a big enough couch for one thing. Look at it, leading the world industrially, possessing unlimited resources in men, material, ingenuity and inventiveness, wealthy beyond measure, mighty in everything but self-confidence, looking tremulously over our shoulders at a paranoiac nation which is so internally insecure that it requires two secret policemen for every citizen which maintains slave labor of so many millions that it dare not turn its back on them or even admit their existence, which forbids contact of its people with free countries for fear of their enlightenment and desertion. How on earth can we, a nation of gifted poker players, be bluffed so long with such an obviously busted flush? That's what I want. Well, now before we answer the door, dear, what's a busted flush? Well, as a totalitarian example, four long-handled spades and a heavy club. But what if they do start a war? Then we'll fight, my dear, but not from under our beds. And I think this must be Professor Valdeck. Excuse me. Ah, Professor Valdeck. Dr. Hall. Come in, come in. Good of you to see me. Delighted to see you. Victoria, this is Professor Valdeck, Professor my wife. Hello, Professor Ducey-Dah. It is a great pleasure, Mrs. Hall. Several people have had the temerity to try to describe you to me. They should go back to the School of Speech and brush up on elephants. Very nice. You seem to be fairly well qualified yourself, Professor. But what is it that has you so disturbed? An incident which occurred in my class today. In the middle of my lecture, a student became greatly upset, very emotional. Left his books and notes and went out. I cannot think what I might have said to offend him. It was a lecture which I've given many times and never have I had such a reaction. Well, maybe it wasn't emotional at all. Four jelly donuts for breakfast can get pretty disturbing. No, Madame. Of the emotional reaction, I am sure. The boy was quite distraught. Well, who was the student, Professor? Did you check? Immediately after class. He was Bradford, Brooks, Bradford the foot. Do I know him? He's a nice boy. A little over-mannered, if such a thing is possible. But nice. And your Chicago family. Well, why didn't you get in touch with young Bradford? And ask him what was wrong, Professor. I tried. I could not reach him. At the fraternity house, they said he was packing his trunk. Who was leaving, did not wish to see anyone. Well, he must have been upset. He never seemed that flighty to me. Very solid scene design under dramatic production. Professor, what was your lecture about? On the Mendelian laws, inheritance of dominant and recessive characteristics, quite per se, can certainly not clinical enough to disturb the most sensitive. Seems very strange. Why not let me locate Bradford, if I can, and see what touched off the explosion? I'm sure you're not at fault. Thank you. If you can substantiate that, I shall feel a great deal better. Don't you worry about it. My husband has a knack for straining these things out. Oh, please, darling, not a knack. Whether that's to class my gift for conciliation with that of carving ships in bottles, or dancing the samba with a full glass of water on top of my head. Knack, indeed. It's a rare talent, highly developed. Yeah, I see a man take so many bows before the curtain went up. Do you know what my father used to say, Professor? He used to say, Bill, my name is William. Yes, I know. Bill, he'd say, a man must neither be praised nor censured for any endowments he may or may not possess. For these, he is not responsible. Honor or disparage him rather for his attainments. For these, he may claim the credit or must admit the lack. How true. You know, I'm sure your father was a very wise man, but I sometimes suspect that the remarks you credit him with are just the things he would have said if you hadn't thought of them first. In this case, I admit that possibility. And Vicki, please see if you can get Bradford on the phone, will you? That invigorating Christmas in the air, the silent white clouds in the clean blue sky, the beauty of nature and its thousands of shades of flame color, hayrack rides, long walks in the woods, the wonderful scent of burning leaves. And football games. Oh, yes, football games. I love football. But you know, at Ivy home games, I have to watch the last few minutes of play standing on tiptoes at the nearest exit, ready to dash for the parking lot. But I don't mind. You see, I settled here in Ivy after I got out of school and married, bought a home. And every year on football weekends, Martha and my old classmates and friends come back. It's gotten to be a tradition, our open house after the game. And that's why I stand at the exit to see the last of the football game. I have to hurry home to see that everything's ready for our friends. Cold cuts, plenty of dark rye bread, pickles, cheese, potato chips and naturally Schlitz beer. Incidentally, last week we had an especially big crowd and Professor Wilson, my neighbor, loaned me his children's plastic waiting pool. We filled it with ice and Schlitz bottles in the open house with our swell success. But that was expected. Good friends, good food and the mighty good taste of Schlitz beer. You know, a glass of beer just naturally tastes good on special occasions like our open houses. But I discovered that whenever a beer would taste good, Schlitz beer tasted best. Of course, that's just my opinion. Your opinion and the opinion of millions of other people like you too. So many people like the taste of Schlitz beer. It's first in sales in the USA. Why don't you two make a point of always enjoying the most popular beer in history? Next time, every time, ask for Schlitz. The beer that made Milwaukee famous. As we return to the Halls of Ivy, we find President and Mrs. Hall awaiting the arrival of Bradford Brooks Bradford, the student who left Professor of Aldex Genetics class in an unexplained flurry of emotion. You say you've met young Bradford Victoria? Hmm, he's nice boy. A little supercilious in a well-mannered way. Crew cut, meticulously dressed. By the way, why crew? I beg your pardon, darling. Crew cut, why is it called crew cut? I presume because a college rowing team started using short haircuts to cut down wind resistance and keep their forelocks from obstructing their view of the coxswain. Flinging back an errant cowlick, 40 strokes from the finish line would certainly be no help to the rhythm, unless of course the entire crew tossed their heads in unison. But then you might look to the spectators like a mass tantrum. Thank you. One reason I love you, dear, is that you always have an answer. Well, I try. If I lack authentic information, I find simple logic quite helpful. Incidentally, this summer I found another reason why I love you. Did you? Did it suddenly occur to me what a wonderful instinct you have for companionship? You mean I don't yak-a-de-yak all the time? That's part of it. I remember that for 107 miles across the state of Utah, you uttered just 13 words. You said, did you know, dear, that we'd been out of gas for some time? Until we were going downhill with a filling station at the bottom. You were wonderful, wonderful. You're one of those rare women who respect a man's occasional need for solitude. I don't think women constitutionally are equipped to cope with it. Oh, yes they are. But personally, I love solitude, particularly if I'm with you. You're the same. But what I mean is that men, like little boys, must run away from home now and then. It's a compulsion. Oh, they may just go out and pitch a few golf balls, quips and stream in which no trout has been caught in local memory, or just lock the door and string paper clips together. But most women don't understand this. But then I can't recall that history has ever recorded the name of a female hermit. No, Catherine of Russia and Keir Patra and Helen of Troy were quite social, as I remember it. But so, as you say. Ah, that's probably Bradford. Excuse me, darling. Ah, Mr. Wellman, please come in. Can't stay for a moment, Dr. Ball. Only a moment. I just want to say good afternoon, Mrs. Wall, that I just heard about Bradford, Bradford. And I want you to know. Good afternoon, Mr. Wellman. Afternoon, Mrs. Wall. The Bradford Brooks Bay. Senior is a very dear friend of mine. Comes from a fine Chicago family. Ancestors boarded from the Indians and all that. And this boy is permitted to leave Ivy College and all the money he has so generously donated in the past. I meet his father and his father's father. All Ivy alumni, it must not be permitted. Is that clear, Dr. Hall? Well, I must admit to having heard statements which were finer examples of clarity, Mr. Wellman. Indeed. I didn't think it would be necessary to die a diagram. Dramadiagraw. Look, if this boy is allowed. Mr. Wellman. What is it? Mrs. Hall. If what you're trying to say is that we must make every effort to find out what has happened and if possible keep young Bradford as a student. Well, I'm sure Dr. Hall couldn't agree with you more. Of course. Influence and connections are not necessary to enlist my help, Mr. Wellman. This is my job. Yeah, he likes it too. He flushes trouble out of the bushes like a bird dog. Please don't misunderstand me. I was merely trying to... Don't you know, Mr. Wellman, that I am one of your admirers? Well, don't just stare at him, Mr. Wellman. It was a compliment. I know, but what did I... I mean, I wasn't aware that this comes as a completer. What was that you said, Dr? I said I was one of your admirers. That's what I thought you said. As chairman of the Board of Governors, Mr. Wellman, your primary function is to keep this institution in a state of solvency. Our solid financial status at present is largely attribute to the grim and resolute manner in which you pursue and capture the wily contributor. I admire any man who has a task to perform and acquits himself well. Well, my goodness. Well, thank you, but... So, the fiscal responsibility being yours, and the educational responsibility being mine, I suggest that we each stay within our respective preserves. I'll handle the younger Bradford. You go and extract a stadium from the elders. In other words, Dr. Hall, I can mine my own business. Oh, no, I... Yes. Very well. I guess I sort of admire you, too, Dr. Hall. Any employee, and don't ever forget you are one, any employee who has the visceral integrity, I was thinking of a shorter word. Yes, the visceral integrity to tell the chairman of the Board to mind his own business is... Well, let me know what happens. That stadium of yours isn't a bad idea. Good-bye, Mr. Bradford. Now that he's had a pat on the head, he'll go and work harder than ever for donations. Sort of wagging his toil, as it were. Oh, no, no, wagging his toil, quickly, my darling. I suppose that's Clarence back for another kind word. No, Clarence is much too astute to expect it twice in one day, from me, at least. Well, in that case, I'll let Mr. Bradford in. Hello, Brad. Come in, please. Thanks, Mrs. Hall. Dr. Hall here. Yes, I'm expecting you. Brad, I don't think you've ever met Dr. Hall. Ah, welcome to the powerhouse, Bradford. Thank you, sir. Get one sit down. Now, can I get you gentlemen something cold and wet or something hot and fragrant? Not for me, thank you, Mrs. Hall, and don't leave on my account. Oh, yes, it might help to have another opinion. Although, what there is to have an opinion about, I'm sure I don't know. Professor Valdeck seems to think he said something either disturbing or offensive to you in his glass. Or it wasn't his fault, sir. I'm sure it was just a routine lecture, but well, it gave me a bad shock. In what way? Well, I suddenly discovered I'm a phony. I've been masquerading all my life. Bradford Brooks, Bradford III, a lot of malarkey. I don't know who I am. I'm suddenly nameless Joe, the doorstep kid. I'm afraid this is a little beyond my comprehension. Exactly what was it in the lecture which led you to this sudden loss of identity? You know the Mendelian law, Dr. Hall? Yes, a natural law which relates to the inheritance of a certain characteristic. Worked out by Gregor Johann Mendel, the Austrian biologist. Born 1822, died 1884. Yes, but... My thickie, how did you... Well, I looked it up this afternoon. Go on, Brad. Well, I've always been rather proud of my family, Dr. Hall. Being Bradford Brooks Bradford was important to me, and I don't think I'm a snobby. Of course not, there's a certain proper pride in good stock and good breeding. If you try to live up to it, that's what I mean, sir. My family were Mayflower stock. Well, I'm glad to meet one of our passengers. My ancestors built the boat. Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Hall. Anyway, this morning, that was all shot out from under me. According to Professor Valdeck and Mendel, two parents with clear blue eyes, a recessive characteristic, cannot have a child with brown eyes. Ah, clear blue eyes. It's quite rare. Very few people have clear blue eyes. I know, Dr. Hall, but it happens that both of my parents have them. Now, sir, will you look at my eyes? Brown, aren't they? Do you understand what that means? I can see the possibility that you were adopted. Yes, adopted, a waif. It's kind of a poke in the teeth, Doctor, to be somebody all these years. A member of a distinguished family, a man with a background and everything and suddenly discover that you're a nobody, a foundling. Now I gotta go home and find out just who and what I am. Why? Why? Mrs. Hall, how can you ask why? I've just explained. Excuse me, Bradford. Sir? I think Mrs. Hall's question, brief as it was, is quite pertinent. You know who you are. Apparently, you're the adopted son of the Bradfords of Chicago who took you and cared for you all these years because they wanted you and loved you. Have you ever had the feeling that they were not your real parents? Of course not. That's why this is such a shock. Well, then that pretty well shows the affection they have for you, doesn't it? As far as they're concerned, you are Bradford Brooks Bradford. In this case, the biological aspect is a recessive characteristic. It becomes an academic matter entirely. You see, in present day adoptions, it's the usual custom, I believe, to inform the child of his adoption at the earliest possible time. Why, no. Well, does the fact that it was not the custom at the time of your adoption, does that justify your confronting your foster parents and challenging them, accusing them? Well, I don't know. Now that's about who you are, Brad. Now let's take what you are. All right. What am I? Well, the answer to that's quite obvious. You're a healthy, good-looking young man with pleasant manners and, I'm told, a genuine talent for stage design. Do you realize what an opportunity you have to further distinguish the name of Bradford by means of your own ability and character? You mean that, really? Well, I can think of no greater satisfaction than to bring a little added glory to the names of the people who have given you so much. Blue eyes or brown eyes, they're color matter when they are filled with love and pride. You certainly make it seem kind of unimportant that I was adopted. It is unimportant, Brad. Though be a happy little descendant, be a big proud ancestor. I'd like to say one more thing. Mrs. Hall and I spent the summer touring America. The great country, Brad, was built by great people, including the Bradfords. You know what made them great? A spirit of freedom and independence and a disregard for binding tradition. Daniel Boone, David Crockett, Kit Carson, Louis and Clark, who were their families? Who knows? Who cares? They were individuals with the greatest heritage possible, a heritage of courage and initiative. They made their own names. And in doing so, they made a nation. Oh, it's a little late for you to find a new arrogant trail, Bradford, or make a fortune in buffalo hides. But the chance you have of making the third Bradford, Brooks Bradford, a great name in the world, is spread right out before you. Are you going to take it? Yes. Yes, sir, I'm going to take it. Thank you. No, don't thank me, my boy. Thank those kind and generous people who sent you here. The Bradfords? Who invested their good name and faith in what begins to look like a guilt-edged security. I'm glad you think so, sir. I think I'll get back and unpack. I've got to earn some dividends on that security. Good night. Good night, Brad. Good night, Brad. Tati. Yes, Vickie? I'd like to be in Chicago someday and Bradford's parents call him in and tell him he's an adopted child and hear him say, oh, yes, I've known that for a long time. Well, I think that now he's looking forward to that day himself. And I'm glad that with your help, my darling, we managed to change his point of view. There's an old Irish proverb which just about covers the situation. God never shuts one door, but he opens another. All the five A starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman has been presented by Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous. The taste of Schlitz, the taste that so many people like so much, has made Schlitz beer first in sales in the USA. Why don't you too enjoy the most popular beer in history? Next time, every time. Ask for Schlitz beer. Now here again are Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Good night, everybody. Good night from all of us and our sponsor, the brewers of Schlitz beer. Join us again next week here on Ivy Campus, won't you? Good night. At the same time at the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Mr. Wellman is played by Herbert Butterfield. Also in our cast were Lou Merrill and Victor Perrin. Tonight's script was written by Ted Rosnack and Don Quinn. Music was composed and conducted by Henry Russell. The Halls of Ivy was created by Don Quinn, directed by Matt Wolf, and presented by the Jaws of Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, who invites you to enjoy the Schlitz Playhouse of Stars on television with the brightest names of Hollywood and Broadway. See your newspaper for time and channel. Ken Carpenter speaking. Oh, we love...