 In just a moment here, my son Jeep. First though, this is Bob McKenzie with a note about some of your weekday favorites on this station. For comedy, Monday through Friday, we feature the rapid-fire wit of Bob Hope. While Dave Garroway drops by for an informal 15-minute visit, complete with some of your favorite records. Later in the day, one man's family and news of the world are both featured on NBC. And for your future reference on June 22nd, we'll welcome back Bud Collier and break the bank for daytime quiz Monday through Friday on these stations. Right now, it's my son Jeep. Good evening. This is Dr. Robert Allison of Grove Falls, Jeep's father, also Peggy's. As father's goal, I've always classed myself as a pretty good one. My children seem to think so, but this might be due to their knowledge that they can whine me around their respective little fingers practically at will. Well, not long ago, I decided to take a stand. I said no for a change, and I meant it. I was adamant. But I reckoned as usual without the children, particularly my inventive young male offspring, my son Jeep. Yes, it's my son Jeep, the bright and warm hearted adventures of the Allison family of Grove Falls, transcribed by the national broadcasting company and starring Donald Cook as Doc and featuring young Martin Houston as irrepressible, unpredictable 10-year-old Jeep Allison. Ladies and gentlemen, it's with a great deal of pride that we make the following announcement. The second largest veterans organization in the world, the veterans of foreign wars, has voted my son Jeep the best American family situation comedy on the air. On behalf of our producers and our cast, may I express our deep appreciation for this honor and our sincerest good wishes to the organization which made it possible. To Dr. Allison and my son Jeep. A separate time in our house, as in so many homes, is not merely a time for good food and relaxation. It's also a time for getting me in the proper mood to shell out for the latest project, whatever it may be. I can recognize the signs, 10 miles off, several broad hints casually dropped like a ton of bricks, followed immediately by the outright demand. When do you want me to go downtown with you Peggy and look at that dress you were telling me about? Well, I haven't talked to Father yet. I'll have another piece of chicken, Mrs. Vixby. But it's such a beautiful dress, I know he'll just love it. A little more potato too, please. And it's only $9. They're practically giving it away. I'm certainly glad to see food prices coming down finally. After all, now that Spring's here, I'm sure Father would want to see me well dressed. Pass a gravy, please. It seems to me there's two separate conversations going on at this table. It's just because Father doesn't want to hear me. Oh, were you talking to me, dear? I thought you were talking to Barbara. No, it ain't Barbara who's going to buy that dress for her. What dress? Oh, honestly, Father. Bob, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Now, stop ganging up on me, all of you. What's all this about? Peggy wants a new dress, Pa. Oh, well, didn't you just get a new dress, honey? Well, that was a school dress, Father. Now I need a party dress. What's the difference? Oh, the difference in the world. You don't go out in the school dress. Then where do you go in it? Bob, Peggy means that a party dress is something special. Oh, don't you have plenty of party dresses already? Oh, that's not the point. Everyone's been seen at least four or five times. Seen by whom, if I may ask? My friends, of course. And you consider that sufficient reason for buying a new dress? Well, certainly, Father. Well, I don't. Get yourself a new circle of friends instead. That'll be cheaper. A dress is only $9. A young lady, I don't care if it's $0.09. This is one time when the principle of the thing is more important than the cost. You don't really need this dress. You saw it. You liked it. You wanted it. Well, fine and dandy. But no one can have everything he wants. Every time he wants it, there's got to be a limit even to party dresses. Does that mean you won't buy me the dress? You've caught my meaning exactly. Oh, Mrs. Bixby, don't you think I ought to have the dress? Well, honey, I don't want to take sides, but I have to admit that you got as good a wardrobe as any girl in town. Barbara, you understand, don't you? Let's pretend I'm not even here. Well, I think, Peggy, you ought to have the dress, Pop. Then you buy it for her. Now, won't somebody please change the subject? It must be possible to carry on a conversation without talking about buying something. By the way, Bob, the salesman from your medical supply house came by while you were out today. He'll come back tomorrow in case you were thinking of buying. Well, say, Pop, we had a special meeting of the hankered anchors this afternoon. Oh, did you sound? What was the occasion? We're thinking of making a bigger clubhouse. What does that mean? Buying? Uh-oh. Oh, by the way, Doctor, I ran into Miss Beater downtown. She says her daughter's expecting again, and Mr. Beater's so pleased about it, he's thinking of buying her... Your turn, Peggy. It's such a beautiful dress. Oh, for heaven's sake. Well, if you're all incapable of thinking of anything but buying, I'll pick a topic. Now, for instance, our picket fence. I was noticing the other day how weather-beaten it looks. I decided to have it painted. Well, good idea to spooze up the whole place. More color, Pop. Well, I don't know. That's what I wanted to ask you all before I got around to buying the... Ha-ha-ha. Honestly. How can you possibly talk about painting a picket fence when I need a new dress? Honey, if we don't get our fence painted soon, it's going to fall to pieces. But even without the new dress, I think you'll manage to hold together for a few more years. It's supper. My father at last showed himself in his true colors. He knew that I needed a new dress desperately, and yet he hardened his heart against me. I asked myself, wasn't he ever young? I feel that he doesn't... What are you doing, Peggy? Well, I'm not bothering you. Go ahead and write. Well, I can't, as long as you're here. These are my most innermost thoughts. It's like writing a letter to yourself. It happens that there are times in a young woman's life when she feels the need to unburden herself. And in this house, we're having a friend in the world, and we're absolutely nobodies in sympathy with my ideas. Oh, you still want that dress? Please. We will not discuss the subject. No one understands me. Oh, gee, Peggy, I do, and I think you ought to have the dress. That's very sweet of you, gee, but sympathy won't solve my problem. Well, but sympathy and money will. What do you mean? I got 87 cents saved up here. Oh, gee. Have you got any money? A dollar and 65 cents. How much does that add up to? Two dollars and 52 cents. Well, how much more do you need? Well, two fifty-two from nine leaves six dollars and 48 cents. Gosh, that'd take me years to save up. Me too. By the time I have that much money, I'll have to get my dress. What'll we do? Well, I suppose I'll just have to suffer. You really need the dress, Peggy. Any woman needs any dress she can get. I don't know how yet, but I don't think of something. How much is it going to cost to have our picket fence painted? Oh, I wasn't thinking of charging you anything. It's going to cost me twenty-one dollars. That doesn't include the paint. Would you like to have the job done cheaper? I'd love it. You know a painter who'll do it cheaper? Sure. Who? Me. No. Oh, but gone leap, huh? No. But gee, where's it? Don't you want me to do it? No. You sure say you know an awful lot tonight. Well, that's to make up for the other 364 nights of the year when I've said nothing but yes. But you said you'd like to get the fence painted cheaper, and I'll do the whole job for you for six dollars and 48 cents. How much? Six dollars and 48 cents. What's the 48 cents? Old age security tax? Huh? Why that particular figure? Why not 650 or 675? Okay. Okay, what? I'll do for 675. No. All right, 648. No. Oh, come on, Pop. I just got to have this job. Why? What have you got your heart set on that cost 648? Oh, I don't want to buy anything. It's Peggy. She needs it to buy a dress. What, another one? No, it's the same one. But she said that one cost $9. Has it been reduced to 648 since suffering? Uh-uh. You see, I gave Peggy 87 cents, and she already had $1.65. So that made $2.52. So it leaves $6.48 to go. Say, Pop. You want to paint the fence so that Peggy can buy the dress. That's right. Was this your idea, Jeep? Uh-huh. Okay, it's a deal. Come here a second. Why? Mind giving your old man a little hug? Of course not. What was that for? Because I'm proud of you. Tell you what, I'll get the paint, and we'll mix it tomorrow night. And then, right in early Saturday, you can start to work. Then I'll get $6.75. 648. However, there might be a bonus of $1 for the painter. Gosh, thanks, Pop. I'm going to go tell Peggy. All right, but as soon as you do, I want you to get the bag. Peggy, you get the dress. Get the money. Well, I haven't got it yet, but I made a deal with Pop to paint the fence. And as soon as it's done, we'll have the money. Well, how did you ever get the wonderful idea of you? It sort of came to me. Isn't it funny, Peggy? I start out to do you a favor, and I wind up doing one for Pop, too. I'm going to save him a lot of money. That is pretty hard, isn't it, Pop? Well, it's a little rough for a 10-year-old, anyway. My arm's about ready to drop off. Want me to stir for a while? No, thanks, son. It's all done now. I'll put the lid back on. Don't put it on tight. You'll be using it first thing in the morning. Okay. Now, put the can out of the way somewhere. Oh, yeah, I'll put it down the cellar stairs. Right where somebody can fall over? Well, find another spot. Okay, I'll put it on the back porch. I'm on my way home, Bob. Just came out to say goodnight. Well, wait a couple of minutes. I'll drive you. Thank you. It's such a beautiful evening. I'd rather walk. Hi, Barbara. Hi. All set for the big job tomorrow? I sure am. Peggy just told me why you're painting the fence. I think it's wonderful of you, honey. As a matter of fact, I'm going to give you a big hug. Oh, goodness, everybody's so mushy the last couple of days. Oh, they've got reason to be. You're being very sweet. I mixed the paint. That's right, Barbara. You're a popplug, too. You keep out of this. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Good night. Good night. Well, come on, son. Help me pick up these newspapers. I just remembered. I got some clothes hanging out on the line. I swear I'd forget my head if it wasn't fast enough. Jeep, did you put the paint? Miss Bixby, watch out! I'm playing Miss Bixby tripped over something. It couldn't possibly be a very expensive gallon of white paint, could it? I would like to have a few words with whoever put that can of paint out there. Oh, hey, look at your shoes, Miss Bixby. I'm looking at them. Thank you. White, aren't they? I like the original color better. Well, who's to blame? Me. I'm sorry. Oh, my. All that paint wasted. Is there any left in the can? What ain't spilled in the back porch is on meshes. Oh, great. $4.29 down the drain. Never mind that. What about meshes? Those are old shoes. They're ruined. All right, all right. I'll buy you a new pair. How much did they cost? $10.98. Now, wait a minute. Those are old shoes, aren't they? How long have you had them? Nine years this summer. $10.98, please. No, no. They're certainly not worth that much after nine years. Sentimental value, doctor. Very funny. Now, let's prorate this whole thing. $11. 11 divided by nine years. Well, I'd say I owed you about $1.25 at the most. You know where they're selling shoes for a dollar and a quarter these days. Cheap promise, Bixby's right. Can't even get a pair of sneakers for that. Maybe not, but do you honestly think I ought to pay you the full price? No, I suppose not. Then how much? $1.25. I just thought of something. I'll get you another gallon of paint in the morning. Gosh, haven't even started the job and already I'm out of paint. Now what? Oh, what am I thinking of? Here I am standing in the puddle of paint on my nice clean linoleum. This paint sure goes slow. Hi, Chief. Isn't it a wonderful morning? You just coming to work, Barbara? What do you mean, just? It's 9.30. Gosh, is that all? I've only been painting half an hour. Three hours. How's it going? Slow. The two pickets you finished look fun. Yeah, only 311 more to go. I counted them before I started. How long will it take to finish the whole fence? It takes half an hour to do two pickets. Oh my goodness, I don't know. See, four pickets an hour, about 75 hours. How much is that in days? Well, if you figure six hours a day, it would make about 12 and a half days. Oh, Lee! Of course, you'll only be working weekends. Not weekends, just Saturdays. Well, in that case, you ought to finish the fence sometime late in September. I've got to get to work. See you later. Late in September? Gosh. By the time I finish the last picket, the first one will need painting again. Well, getting more paint on me than I am on this old fence. Hi, Chief. How's it coming? Slow. It's fine. What you've done looks wonderful. Yeah, nine pickets. Only 304 to go. What time is it, Peggy? About 11.30. Is that all? Feels like it's tomorrow already. I've been thinking, Peggy, do you really need that dress? Well, of course I do. Oh, I just thought I'd ask. Well, why? Is this job too hard for you? I know it isn't that, but the more I paint, the longer the fence seems to get. Well, you've only been at it for a couple of hours. Only? That's a long time. Especially if you've got a big blister on your hand. Well, how about going up some of your friends? Maybe they'll come over and help you. Huh? You don't know my friends. They want money. Gave you my last 87 cents. Wait a minute. I got an idea. Hey, Peggy, you remember Tom Sawyer? Remember how he had a whitewash defense and he didn't want to do it? Yes, I remember. He got all his friends to watch him, and pretended it was such fun that they ended up by paying him to let them help. Why don't I do the same thing? Well, that's an absolutely wonderful idea, Chief. Except for one thing. What? How do I pretend this painting is fun? Oh, that's simple. When one of your friends comes around, just act like you're having a good time. It's going to be hard work all by itself. What else do I do? Well, smile a lot. Like you're enjoying yourself. And if they want you to quit to do something else, you tell them you can, because painting is more fun than anything. Okay, you go back in the house and call up Tommy Barton and ask him to come over after lunch. You do that, Peggy? All right. And remember, Chief, whatever you do, don't forget to smile. Golly, only 12 pickets painted. Boy, why would I grow up and have a house of my own? There won't be any fence around it. That's one thing I know. Hi, Chief. What are you doing? Oh, hi, Tommy, painting. What for? Oh, because it's fun! It is? Sure, boy, I wouldn't miss this for anything. You're crazy. I am not, but this is fun! I'm meeting the gang over by the clubhouse later. Go and choose up size and play some baseball. Boy, this is sure fun! You ought to see the catch and meet with Scott with his father's cigarette coupon. Boy, this is fun! It is a new kid moved in over on Elm Street. It's supposed to be a terrific shortstop. It's more fun than anything. What's the matter with you, Jeep? You sound like a broken record. You haven't stopped grinning since I came by. That's because I'm real happy. And if you ask me real nice, I'll let you help me. You'll let me help you? For sure. I won't charge you anything, either. Gee, thanks. Well, that's okay. Grab the other paintbrush. What for? You're my best friend, aren't you? I want you to have a good time, too. And painting this fence is going to be the best fun you've ever had. You wouldn't let just anybody help me, either. Oh, now I get it. You think you're pretty smart, don't you, Jeep Allison? Well, I've read Tom Sawyer, too. You want to know something else? Tom Sawyer's friends were dopes. How long have you been working in this fence, anyway? Since nine o'clock this morning. And this is all you got done? Yeah, take out time for lunch, didn't I? Hey, what's the matter with your hand? It's a little bit of a headache. I'm going to go round up the fellas. Whenever you get sick of having a good time, come on over to the baseball field and be miserable with us. You want me to pick some of them all emanate for you? Thanks, Miss Bixby. I mean, finish this. Is something wrong, honey? You don't sound too perky. I'm tired. My arm's about to drop off. Well, no wonder. Why don't you quit a while and rest? Can't do that. I'm not getting enough done as it is. What time is it anyway? Just about three o'clock, why? Gee whiz. But I'm here six hours already, and we got seventeen pickets painted. Well, I think that wonderful Jeep probably looks so pretty. Man, I only got 296 more to do. That's quite a few, ain't it? Barbara, figure it out. I won't have a Saturday off until the end of September. Hi, Jeep. Hi, Miss Bixby. Hi there, Tommy. Hey, what's the matter, Tom Sawyer? I'm not smiling anymore. Ha-ha, big joke. Well, I gotta get back in the house. When you feel like quitting, I got some nice cookies just come out of the oven. Hey, I could go for some cookies. Okay, I'll go in and get them. You stop painting the fence. Oh, no. If I gotta work for them, keep your old cookies. Anyway, I just stopped by to see if you change your mind about playing baseball. How can I? Easy. Just drop the paintbrush and come on. Well, if I quit this row, the job will probably run over into October. You mean you're not going to be playing baseball at all this summer? Not as long as I got this old fence. Hey, I got an idea. Get the whole team over here, and if they all pitch in and help me, I'll be able to play. We don't need you that bad. Hello, boys. I just came out to see how the Allison handyman is doing. Hi, Dr. Allison. I'll be going along, Jeep. If you ever get tired of that paintbrush, well, there's a couple extra gloves over the field. So long, Tommy. Well, boy, how's it going? Like molasses. Would you rather be going with Tommy to play some baseball? There's more to life than just having a good time, Pop. That's a sound philosophy, but when you're 10 years old, you shouldn't take it too seriously. I mean, it's very natural that you should want to have a good time. Hey, let me see your hand. You've rubbed this blister raw, boy. Doesn't it hurt? Yeah, sort of. My back hurts, too. My arm's about ready to drop off. Want a quit? You want me to, Pop? I didn't say that. This is strictly up to you. That's the trouble. A guy's not supposed to quit in the middle of a job. Not even when a guy has a bad blister on his hand and a sore back and his arm's ready to drop off? Nothing less. Nothing less what? Something to have to happen to make him quit. Oh, like his father ordering him to stop? Gosh, don't do it! I mean, you sure you want me to quit, Pop? After due consideration of all the factors involved and making full allowances for the physical well-being of the laborer in question and the number of pickets painted in ratio to the number remaining to be painted, I would reply in the affirmative. What's all that mean? It means that I hereby order you to quit. Gosh, thanks, Pop. Will you take the paint stuff and go into the house? Why? Where are you going? Over to play baseball. See you later. Baseball? Two seconds ago, rigor mortis was setting in and now he takes off like a jet plane. I wish all my patients were that easy to cure. Well, how was the ball game today, Chief? Well, outside one, twenty-seven to twenty-six. Picture's duo, eh? Yeah, I hit five home runs. That good? Good. It's perfect. More of the fencing that you got Mr. Hansen to come over Monday? That's right, dear. It was Pop's idea, Peggy, not mine. But what about my dress? Well, I guess you can't get it. But I've already got it. What? I took my dollar sixty-five and the eighty-seven-cent Jeep gave me and I put it down as a deposit and they let me take the dress home. Eh, weren't you, uh, my previous, Peggy? Well, Father was going to pay Jeep the six forty-eight and I didn't know he wasn't going to finish the job. Neither did I. You, uh, you find something amusing in this situation, Mrs. Bixby? Yep, the expression on your face. Fine thing. For once in my life I put my foot down and what happens? It goes right through the floor. She got her dress anyway. Well, then I can keep it, Father? Yes, yes, yes. Oh, you darling. See, Peggy, I still got you the dress. Eh, hold everything. I want it understood that I bought the dress. Okay, Pop. You owe me eighty-seven cents. What for? That's what I gave Peggy. If you're paying for the dress, why should I pay for it too? Ah, he's got you there, Doctor. All right, you'll get your eighty-seven cents. In that case you owe me a dollar sixty-five. I do not. Well, you do so, Father. It came out of my pocket. But it's your dress. But you said you were buying it. She's got a good point, Doctor. Eh, what are you, the referee? All right, you'll get your dollar sixty-five. Is that all? No. You still owe me a dollar and a quarter for my shoes. You'll get it. Although, come to think of it, I ain't sure that's really enough. Sue me. Now, how I got maneuvered into all this, I'll never know. Pop, I know you can't pay the whole dollar bonus. But don't you think you ought to pay me part of it for the pickets I did paint? I do not. I still have to pay Mr. Hansen twenty-one dollars to paint the fence. This whole project has cost much too much as it is. Twenty-one dollars to Mr. Hansen, nine dollars to Peggy, a dollar and a quarter to Ms. Bixby, four twenty-nine for that can of paint that spilled, eighty-nine cents for a paintbrush, that's about thirty-five, thirty-six dollars for a twenty-one dollar job. But you're including my new dress. That's got nothing to do with the painting. It certainly has. If it weren't for the painting, you wouldn't have got your dress, which I never intended to buy for you in the first place. But think how proud you'll be when you see me in it. Sure, I'll be proud. I'll be penniless too. Balancing again. We have another Boy Scout message for all you fellas who are wondering where to go this summer for a real vacation. I'd like you all to meet a representative of the local Boy Scout Council. Hi, Jeep. I'm Scott Brownes of True 579 in New York. I want to remind everybody about the big jamboree out in California this July. It's going to be the biggest one yet. I'll bet. Imagine. Fifty thousand scouts together all at one time. Who's going to do the cooking for you? We'll do our own cooking right out in the open. Boy, it'll sure take a lot of food, won't it? That's right, Jeep. We expect to use over a hundred tons of meat. A hundred and seventy-five thousand loaves of bread. Six hundred and twenty-four thousand quarts of milk. Six hundred and twenty-four thousand eggs. Fifty-eight thousand heads of lettuce. Fifty-three thousand quarts of oranges. Over a million donuts and thirty-five miles of thanks for this. Gosh, I'm getting hungry just to hear about it. Don't forget, everybody, July 17th to July 23rd. Santa Ana, California. The third national jamboree. My son, Jeep, was created and written by Walter Black and William Mendrick and directed by Dan Sutter. Martin Houston is featured as ten-year-old Jeep with Joan Lazer as Peggy, Leona Powers as Mrs. Bixby, and Lynn Allen as Barbara Miller. Starring in the role of Doc is one of America's finest actors and most versatile comedians, Donald Cook. Now this is Fred Collins inviting you to be back with us again next Sunday, same time, same station. For the next transcribe visit with America's favorite family, the Allicens of Grove Falls and radio's number one situation comedy, My Son, Jeep. Tonight it's the Phil Harris Alice Faye show on NBC.