 Craft presents the Great Gilderslee. Hehehehe. Funny. Who also bring you Bing Crosby every Thursday night. Present each week at this time Harold Perry as the Great Gilderslee. Written by Leonard L. Evans. One of the nicest streets in the bustling city of Summerfield lives Frogmorton Peak Gilderslee, a typical American uncle. Stout, jolly, faced with all the problems that the average uncle is faced with. He tries to guide his niece Marjorie and his nephew Leroy, always with the very best intentions and sometimes with the very worst results. And now the Great Gilderslee. Thanks for the lift home Judge Hooker. You're welcome. Say Gilderslee, I hate to bring this up, but isn't it about time we used your car? All right, I'll drive my car down tomorrow. You know I don't go downtown tomorrow? Sure, that's why I'm going to drive my car down. Hehehehe. Then it'll be your turn again to pick me up the day after, won't it? Yes. Hey, wait a minute. I'm getting a chip somewhere. See here, Hooker. If you're going to talk like that, I won't give you that spare inner tube. Oh, excuse me, Gildy old pal. Just forget it. I'll be here for you. Goodbye. The old goat. I better get that tube out of the safety deposit box. I just saw you driving up and behind our front curtains. I mean, I was behind them, not you, so I ran out to ask you a favor and I'm sure you won't mind saying yes, because after all, there's nothing I want you to do, so you'll do it, won't you? What? What? You want me to say yes to something you don't want me to do? Well, yes, that's exactly correct. You'd hit the nail right on this thumb. Uh-huh. Well, it's something I want to ask Eunice Marjorie to do, and hasn't she got the loveliest red hair? See what kind of a rinse has she used to get at that shade, Mr. Gildishly? Young lady, Marjorie's hair is that way, naturally. Well, naturally, that's what you would say. Well, the thing I wanted you to ask Eunice to do for me is to take this list of soldier boys. I promised the U.S.O. I'd write letters to and ask her if she'd mind writing instead on a kind of I hurt my hand and can't. What did you do? You were talking? It wouldn't have been so bad, only I was in it myself at the time. It was a horrible experience. I couldn't talk for hours. You couldn't, though. Wasn't that too bad? Well, you give this list to Marjorie, won't you? I know she won't mind it. Just a few names. Well, goodbye now, Mr. Gildishly, and take my advice. Keep away from folding beds. Yes. When I get into a bed, it doesn't fold up, it just curls up. Let me see that list. Just a few names, eh? Wow, her idea of a few names is like her idea of a few words. That family next door is beginning to get my goat. That's about the only thing. They haven't been over to borrow so far either. Next time they ask me for something, I'm going to say, ah, good afternoon, Marjorie. Well, hello, Uncle Mord. Marjorie, my dear. I have a little patriotic job for you to do. Oh, what is it, Uncle Mord? That girl next door. What's her name? Uh, Dilly or Daffy? Dottie? Dottie, that's her. She wants you to write letters to this list of soldiers here. She can't because she had her hand squeezed in a folding bed. Oh, but Uncle Mord, I'm writing to so many soldiers already. It seems like I'm corresponding with half the army as it is. You are? How did that happen? I was serving coffee to that troop train that was going to Camp Stover last week, and one of the detachments adopted me. Adopted you? Well, I'm not exactly clear whether they adopted me or I adopted them. I don't know if I'm the daughter of the regiment or the auntie of the anti-aircraft. Very good. What happened? Well, they voted me their parachute girl. What do they mean, parachute girl? Well, they'd like most to drop in on. 200 of them asked me to correspond with you. 200 letters? Couldn't you just write to them by squads? No, I guess not. There isn't much fun sharing a letter from a girl with 11 men in the corporal. That's why I've been writing each of them personally. And is it a job? No, Uncle. I don't doubt it a bit, my dear. We should all do everything we can to make them happy, however. I wish there was some way I could help. Do you think I could bang out a few letters for you on the typewriter? And you could sign your name? Well, I don't know. Would they look like a girl wrote them? Of course. I'll type them very daintily. Say, we can put the whole family to work on this. Leeroy, eh, Birdie. Did you call me Mr. Giltley? Yes, where's Leeroy? Here I am. What is it? Look, everybody, Marjorie has more letters to write to the soldiers than she can shake a pen at. Now, the boys in camp always welcome a letter, but it means far more to them if it comes from a pretty girl. Oh, Mr. Giltley. Not you, Birdie. I'm talking about Marjorie. Oh. Yes. Now, the rest of us will have to do a little ghost writing. Excuse me? That lets me out. I ain't pale enough to do any ghost writing. I'll handle writing to my own boy friends in the circle. Oh, well, all right, Birdie. Leeroy, you'll help me, won't you? Each of us will take ten names and write letters as if we were Marjorie. Sure. I've always wanted to be one of those anyhow. You always wanted to be one of what, Leeroy? A war correspondent, huh? I hope you are fine, too. How was the journey to Camp Stover? As the guy in school said when he stuck his foot out into the aisle when the teacher was passing, I hope you enjoyed your trip. P.S., if you have any empty rifle shells, please send them as my brother is making a collection. This looks like it's going to be the best one yet. Let's see how it sounds. Dear John. Take my pen, please. Take my pen, please. Dear John. Take my pen and hand to thank you and your friends for selecting Little Me as the girl you'd like to visit most. I am not unmindful of the honor bestowed upon me, but I won't let it turn my pretty little red head. It is indeed unfortunate that you are stationed so far from Summerfield. Otherwise, you could all come to dinner at our house some night as I love to bake and cook. You know how we girls are. Well, since the shades of night are drawing near, I'd better close as my Uncle Throckmorton thinks it's time for me to go to bed. It's surely yours, Marjorie Forester. Dear Willie, I got your letter yesterday and hastens to inform you that the next time you send me a letter without any postage stamps on it, don't send it air mail special delivery. I'm sorry to fudge into fried chicken I sent you got all mixed up together, but it saves me sending you any chocolate eggs for Easter. I'm nitting you another sweater to replace the one you says you lost at the Target range. Only next time, kindly confine your shooting to rifle practice because you never was any good at Paducah Parcheasy. Yours truly, your ever-loving, ever-lasting, one and only Verdi Lee Coggins. P.S., please disregard them rumors about me going out with other fellas. That's just enemy propaganda. Let's see, this is the last of March. Oh, yes, that means the June magazines are due. Oh, hello, Mr. Mailman. Hey, I must have 150 letters for you. What's your niece doing, running a contest? I'm becoming a regular beast of burden. Oh, the male animal, eh? Oh, some more letters from the soldier boys, huh? Yes, and if those guys lick as many jabs as they do stamps, the war will be over, pronto. Goodbye, Mr. Gilmour. So long. Oh, Marjorie, here's some answers to the letters we wrote to the Army. Good. Oh, we'll help you, won't we, Leroy? Yeah, let's start over them. Yeah, be careful there. Wait a minute, brother, give me that letter. That one's not from the Army. Are you sure? That's from a certain infant in the Navy, and it's strictly personal. Oh, there I see. Well, we'll be true to the Army, won't we, Leroy? This one's from Camp Stover, all right. There, see. Dear Miss Forrester, thank you for that picture of your little brother. Picture of... What do you mean, picture of my little brother? Yeah, I ran out of snapshots of you, so I sent him one of me. No, I don't think he resembles you a bit. He sure is a funny-looking kid. What? I'm sorry I can't send you any cartridge shells, which you asked for for his collection. What's this? Don't interrupt Uncle Moore. Yes, yes. But so far I've been very busy here, acting as barber to a carload of raw potatoes. Say, what kind of letters have you two been writing in my name? Now, Marjorie, don't fret. Look at all these letters. You can see we didn't use your name in vain. Why don't you run along downtown now, like you intended? Sure, we can clean up all his correspondence. Well, all right. Only remember, if you read any letters that turn out to be personal or private, don't open them up. I, of course, my dear, you can depend on us. How are we going to do that? Oh, come on, Uncle. Let's not burn our bridges till we come to them. If you're a bright boy, Leroy. Now, the letter. Dear Miss Forrester, thanks for the wonderful map of the world you sent me. It comes in especially handy because current events is my hobby. Do you think girls are interested in the serious type of young man, such as I represent? Sincerely, Ernest Darling. I'll take care of Darling as soon as I've read this postcard. Hello, Red. Thanks for the swell picture of yourself. It sure guled me, Toots. From now on, I'm going to devote my non-military career to whistling under your window. Do you think you could go for me in a big way? Yours with a jive, Mickey Conway. You silly. I'll answer that one, too, as soon as I get the other one out of the way. The one to watch his name. You mean Ernest Darling? Yes. Now, what did he say? He thanked her for the map. All right. Dear Darling, I'm glad you like the map. What next? Current events is his hobby. Oh, yes. And I am happy to learn you have taken up such a fascinating hobby. He wants to know are girls interested in the serious type? Oh. And in answer to your last question, Darling, the answer is most certainly yes. Take it, Leroy, and address an envelope. Yes, sir. And address another one to Mickey Conway. You better find Ernest Bestow's envelope. I'm going to send him a hen track hot foot. She's out of present. Oh, well, she'll be here. Why don't you come earlier? Say about six. Oh, well, sure, okay. All right, Mickey. It's you, eh? Didn't you get Marjorie's letter? Sure. Thanks. After that letter that I... that she wrote? Oh, my goodness, Leroy. I got the envelopes mixed up. A copy. Oh, I see it all now. And to think that I am responsible for this one-sided romance. I'll just leave again in just a moment. But first, I suppose you know that good nourishment isn't just a matter of eating a lot. Why, you can overeat and still be undernourished. That's why you should know the nutrition facts about the food you buy. So you can serve your family a balanced diet. So here are the nutrition facts about Parquet Margemann. The delicious bread for bread made by Kraft. First, Parquet Margemann is a wholesome, vegetable margarine made of selected American farm products in Kraft's big and spanned modern plants. That's important. You want to be sure the foods you serve are wholesome and of fine quality. Next, Parquet Margemann is a nourishing energy food. In fact, it's one of the best energy foods you can serve. That's important, too. Parquet helps give the pep and energy you need for hard work or play. Lastly, Parquet Margemann is a reliable year-round source of vitamin A. Yes, there are 9,000 units of this important vitamin in every single pound. So next time you shop, remember that economical Parquet Margemann is as nutritious as it is delicious. Yes, Parquet is well worth trying right away. So tomorrow, ask your food dealer for Parquet, P-A-R-K-A-Y. Parquet Margemann, made by Kraft. And now back to the Great Gilda Sleeve. It's six o'clock the following morning when your heroes fall in the sleep at last after spending most of the night counting soldiers. Dear General, won't you come over for dinner? Bring your Jeep along to... respectively, your Strockmorton P. Marjorie. What's that? Time to get up already. Where is that alarm clock? Oh, there you are. What's the matter with this clock? It won't stop. Oh, it's a telephone. Ooh, that floor is cold. Where are my slippers? Oh, the heck with them. All right, all right, I'm coming. Hurt you, operator, I'm hurrying. Hello? If... hello, anybody want me? Must be the wrong number. Somebody's got a lot of nerve not telephoning me at this time of the morning. Ooh, it's cold. Which way is my desk? Hello? What is this, games? Hello, operator? Wait, how can the bell ring with the receiver off the hook? Oh, I know, it's a doorbell. Hold your horses, I'm coming. Yes, what is it? Is that a famous marjorie forest that lives? Yes. Well, I'm Private Mickey Conway and I was told to be here at six. Six? Oh, my goodness, is it six p.m. already? No, sir, it's six o'clock in the morning. What? Who told you to come here at this hour? A marjorie's uncle. I'll break his... oh, my goodness, that's me. What did you say your name is? A Mickey Conway. I was afraid of that. Come on in, Mickey. Thank you, sir. I'll see if Bertie, our cook, can come in. Make yourself comfortable. Good morning, Bertie. It's quicks and coffee. It's almost ready, Mr. Gillis, please. What gives you up so early? A soldier who's fallen for Marjorie because of some letters I've written her name. Oh, you better be careful. He'll sue you for the breaches of the promises. This fellow got the wrong letter, that's all, Bertie. And now he's here to propose to Marjorie. But he can't do that now. She's sound asleep. I won't let him do it if she wakes up, either. Well, it's too early in the morning for me to figure things out. I can't have an open mind without some good shut-eye. Then why don't you go on back to bed? That soldier's probably tired, too. Let him take a nap in your den while you figure this whole thing out on your pillow. Well, Bertie, that's a wonderful idea. How did you ever come to think of it? Well, I can tell the truth. I need a little more beauty sleep myself. Marjorie should be down soon. I remember Leroy and you, too, Bertie. We mustn't leave those two alone together. Don't see why, huh? If we do, he'll start proposing to Marjorie. It'll be very embarrassing for all concerned. Yes, and especially for you. But wouldn't it be a lot simpler, Ronke, if we were to tell Marjorie what it was all about? You mean how you put Private Darling's letter and Private Conway's envelope in vice versa? Well, on second thought, maybe your way is better, Ronke. Well, jiggers, take him to Marjorie now. Good morning, everybody. Well, hello, my dear. How lovely you look this morning. Yeah, you look swell to me, too, sis. That's right. And you certainly going to look good to that soldier who came 300 miles just to pop the... Hicksnake, very, very Hicksnake. Just to pop what, Bertie? Oh, nothing. Nothing to tell Miss Morris. But I'm interested. Pop what? Yes. Well, that is... if he walks 300 miles, he probably going to pop his corn. No. It seems to me you're all acting a little peculiar. Why the idea, I suppose? Well, maybe not, but you've got three of the fishiest-looking pans I've seen outside of a seafood grotto. Say, I had a small rest, Mr. Gu... Well, don't tell me this is Marge. Well, hiya, there, red... Where's it, Uncle Marge? Well, Marjorie, you remember Private Mickey Conway, who wrote you all those nice letters? Who? Ouch! Oh! Oh! Oh, yes, how I am, Mr. Conway. Oh, now, baby, cut out that mister stuff. I'm just plain Mickey to you. Yes, he's just plain Mickey to all of us. Why, he came all the way from Camp Stover to spend the day with you. With me, with us, I mean. Now, what do we do first? Well, first, I'd like to have a quiet little confidential talk with Marge here. Oh, not on an empty stomach, Mickey. Where's your sense of romance? Oh, well, all right. Let's have some breakfast first. But right after that, I've got something to show her. What is it, Uncle Marge? Well, he wants to show you the town. I mean, we want to show him the town, don't we, Marge? Oh, yes, of course we do. Who's I taking out for a ride this morning? We'll all take him for a ride. Would you care to drive, Mickey? What a rabid-eat cabbage! Oh, I see, yes, very cute. You can drive our car and I'll sit next to you, just to show you how the gears shift and where to put on the brakes. And, Marge, you can sit in the back seat with Leroy. That is all except Mickey and me. Well, that just leaves Mr. Gills leaving Leroy. You're right. We tried to leave them a dozen times. What's the matter? Did they chaperone you too vigorously? They didn't chaperone us, Bertie. They convoyed us. Why, every time Mickey opened his mouth, Uncle Marge put his foot in. What they're doing now? Well, Uncle Marge joined Mickey, our family album in the living room. All great stars. Anything wrong? Oh, I'll see there is. I better get in there before they come to my baby pictures. And this one is Marge at the age of one, I think. Fat little rascal, wasn't she Mickey? Oh, boy. Cute dimples, huh? I'll say. Let me get a good look. Boy, was she fat. Don't you dare. I want to see that picture. Oh, oh, well, that's all right. Go right ahead. Oh, then you don't mind? Not in the least. Only that isn't me. It isn't? Then who is it? It happens to be you, Uncle Marge. What? Where's my mustache? Oh, that's right. Say, uh... Yeah? Uncle Mort, if it's all the same to you, could I have a minute alone with Red here? If you want to be alone? That's the general idea, General. Well, how about it? Why, of course, I understand. All right, but only a minute, mind you. Very quick. Get in there and do something. Yeah, but what? Anything. Don't leave them alone until someone relieves you. Just move the piano, dust under the rug. Play the star-spangled banner. What does it matter? Yes, sir. Play, what does it matter? Oh, how do I get myself into these messes? Oh, now there's somebody at the door. As if I didn't have enough to do already. Here's a mail, Mr. Gilded Sleeve. I've got a gob for Marjorie, too. No thanks. She has a soldier in the living room already. Dear, I'd better get Leroy warmed up to go in for Bertie. Leroy? Where is that boy? Leroy? Here, Uncle Mort. Look, Leroy, Bertie is in there pinch-hitting for me. I don't know how soon she'll strike out, so you better be ready to go in there and see that Mickey doesn't get the first base. Well, what about you, Uncle? I've got a telephone for reinforcements. I'm so desperate, I'm going to invite Judge Hooker to dinner. Gee, are things that bad? Yep. Leroy, you just talk and talk and talk. If he runs down, you ask him what he did in the Spanish-American war. That's good for two hours. Till dinner, how do we hold out to Len? That's the problem, my boy. Yes, there's the answer to our problem. I'm coming, Dottie. Fine time to come here for dinner, eight o'clock. And you're a fine friend to depend on, Judge Hooker. Now, wait a minute. I won't wait another minute. We wait as long as we could, then we had our dinner. You mean you didn't wait for me? No, that girl from next door took your place, Judge. What delayed you? I had a puncture with that rubber strainer you gave me for an inner tube. That wasn't a strainer. That tube was made out of the finest reclaimed gilder sleeve girdles. Why? Big, blowfish? And after I've been hauling you to town every day on my poor, thin tires, I've got a good notion to punch you. Judge Hooker, you couldn't punch your way out of a bag of marshmallows. I guess I'll have to show you. I'd polish you off with one uppercut. I mean, I can't decide which chin to aim for. Oh, yes. You twitch one eyebrow at me, Hooker, and the first eight girls won't know where to begin. Is that so? Yes, that's so. Wait, I'll let you start this. Your uncle swindled me out of a lot of free rides. Serves you right for standing me up when I needed you here to keep that soldier from posing to Marjorie. What? Yeah, she doesn't know. And this is all your fault, Hooker. Marjorie, let me explain. Some letters were sent to the wrong soldiers, and he thought that you... it's too involved. Mickey wants to marry you. Oh, is that what he's been trying to say all day? Well, he had me worried. I thought he was trying to tell me that my slip was showing. Hey, Mickey, I'd like to talk to you private. Oh, I might as well do the other half of the job. Send him in. Now, Judge, you and Marjorie go out the other door. Okay, Gildy. Come on, my dear. Do you think Birdie has anything left over from dinner? If she has, you'll have to fight the cat for it. Oh, hello, Mickey. Gee, Mr. Gillislave, this is awful embarrassing to say, but... What? Do you mind not telling Marjorie about our engagement? What? Well, you see, I guess I changed my mind. Now I'm nuts about this little Dottie gal from next door. Gee, she isn't as pretty as Marjorie, but I get a chance to talk to her. You do? Yeah, and she's such a wonderful conversationalist. I'll grant her that. Well, maybe it's all for the best, Mickey. You and Dottie run along now, and lots of luck. You're going to need it. Oh, gee. Oh, thanks, Mr. Gillislave. Hey, Dottie, come on, let's get out of this dump. Oh, gee. Well, I knew everything would come out all right. Uncle, look at this telegram that just came for me. It's from some Captain Earl E.B. at Canstover. Oh, Captain E.B.? Well, I've been corresponding with him. Oh, for you, of course. And what does it say? Um, dear Marjorie, hooray we are being transferred to Summerfield. Hmm? Since you frequently requested the pleasure of my company for dinner at your home, I'm happy to accept for tomorrow night on behalf of my entire company and myself. Oh, this is going to be one of my bad weeks. The great Gillislave will be with us again in a few minutes. But right now, here's an experiment I wish every one of you would make. You see, I've been telling you how delicious Parquet margarine is. But wouldn't it be better if you found it out yourself? So here goes. Next time you bake hot biscuits or rolls or make some toast, have a pound of Parquet margarine handy, then spread them while they're still piping hot with plenty of Parquet. Now that's a real test for any spread because the heat brings out its flavor. Yes, you can tell right away how good Parquet margarine is. Parquet's flavor is delicate, not strong. It's a tempting, satisfying flavor. Then try Parquet margarine and your cooking, too. Use it for baking and pan frying. You'll find that a spread as delicious as Parquet margarine makes cooked foods tastier, too. And remember, no matter how you use Parquet margarine, you're serving your family a wholesome, nourishing, energy food, a food that's a reliable year-round source of vitamin A. So why not try these simple tests and prove to yourself how deliciously good Parquet margarine is? Yes, get a trial pound or two of economical Parquet margarine tomorrow, but be sure to ask your food dealer for Parquet. P-A-R-K-A-Y. Parquet margarine. Made by Kraft. Ladies and gentlemen, I wish all of you would take a tip from your Uncle Mort and do something for your Uncle Sam. Buy more United States government bonds and stamps. There's no finer investment in the world today. For in every way they protect our future. Our choice is clear. Which do we want? Our country's bonds for those of the Axis. Good night. Original music heard on this program was composed and conducted by William Randolph. This is Jim Bannon speaking for the Kraft Cheese Company, and inviting you to be with us again next week at this same time for the further adventures of The Great Gilded Ladies. This program has come to you from Hollywood. This is the National Broadcast.