 Family Theater presents Jack Haley from Hollywood, the mutual network in cooperation with Family Theater presents Fairy Tale starring Jack Haley. Now here is your hostess, Deborah Padgett. 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. Now to our transcribed drama, Fairy Tale starring Jack Haley as Leo. So little Red Riding Hood and the Good Wolf and Red Riding Hood's grandmother all laughed and laughed and laughed, and then like the fine friends they were, sat down in grandmother's parlor to enjoy the biscuits and the apple jelly that Red Riding Hood had brought from home. Oh, it's just beautiful, Mr. Randall. Thank you, Mrs. Oakmont. I think it absolutely stinks. Mr. Hafflinger. Now just a minute, Wilbur. Leo, you've taken the best-known, best-loved fairy stories in the world and turned them into a lot of pointless pap. You obviously don't appreciate what Mr. Randall is trying to do. I appreciate, Mrs. Oakmont, that one of my best authors of child literature has been wasting his time for the last six months. Wilbur, let me say something. I wish you would and make it something sensible for a change. When Mrs. Oakmont first came to me with this idea, I thought it had drawbacks, serious drawbacks. Mr. Randall was very doubtful at first. But you convinced him, huh, Mrs. Oakmont? I convinced myself. The things you call our best-loved fairy stories are, in fact, mostly tales of horror and violence. They're just make-believe. Kids know they're just make-believe. Look at Little Red Riding Hood, Mr. Hafflinger. You call that a nice bedtime story? You used to put me to sleep. You must have been pretty tired. Well, what's wrong with Little Red Riding Hood? Before your eyes, her grandmother is eaten by a wolf. Well, she gets out later. And anyway, eating people isn't exactly out of character for a wolf. Really, Mr. Hafflinger? And look at Jack and the Beanstalk. The story of a nightly waste of a boy who trades his mother's only cow to some country slicker for three beans. Well, that didn't turn out to be such a bad bargain. It was nothing but dumb luck he didn't get turnips instead of a Beanstalk. And then, Mr. Hafflinger, what does this boy do but proceed to rub the poor giant who lives at the top of the Beanstalk? Poor giant. Stop and think, Wilbur. That's why should a giant automatically be bloodthirsty. And go around yelling, Fee-fie-foo-fum. Well, because... because he's a giant. That's why any kid can tell you, giants aren't to be trusted. Because of the way they've been presented to children in literature. That's the only reason. And every person in these stories is so mean and unpleasant. Hardly the type we would encourage children to associate with. You don't think, Mrs. Oakmont, that there's any unpleasantness in the world? I'm certain there is, but really, must we dwell on it? I think the point here, Wilbur, is that everything in the old fairy tales is so black and white, everybody's trying to rob everybody else. There's no trust or anything. Now, you think red writing hood should have trusted the wolf? She does in Mr. Randall's version of the story. I've already expressed myself on Mr. Randall's version. And I suppose your reaction is the same to what I did with the Sorcerer's Apprentice. It is? You don't think it's a nice change having the Sorcerer trust his apprentice and teach him the meaning of all the spells and charms so he won't get into trouble? I think any Sorcerer who did that would be an idiot. Then I take it, Wilbur, that you won't publish this. I won't. And I'm doing you a favor, Leo. Very well. Shall we go, Mrs. Oakmont? By all means. You'll stick it over for a couple of days, Leo. I'm sure you'll see I'm right. I've thought it over. I won't be able to return that advance you gave me for another month or so, but... Forget the advance. We'll chalk this one off to experience. Nope. As soon as this is published, I'll get it back to you. But I just told you I'm not going to publish it. No, Mr. Halflinger. But I am. What? Mrs. Oakmont has just acquired half-interest in the single-night company. Leo, we have our contract. I'm willing to let the courts decide who has breached that contract. Come, Mrs. Oakmont. Leo, let's be sensible about this. I'm being very sensible, Wilbur. I... Mr. Randall, mind the bookcase. Oh, I almost walked right into it. Oh, lucky you put your hands up in time. Leo, look out! What? That statuette on the shelf. He's going to fall! I don't see any statuette. Oh! He's hitting right on the head. He's out like a light. Leo, Leo! Mr. Randall, Mr. Randall, wake up, wake up! Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived with her mother in a vine-covered cottage at the center of a great forest. But this was not like other forests you may have heard about. In Red Riding Hood's forest, all the animals were friends. All but one, the poor old wolf. He had no friends. He roamed the forest all day trying to get acquainted with the rabbits and the squirrels. But they were afraid of his big, sharp teeth and long, lashing tail. So the poor wolf never had a chance to show anyone what a nice, friendly fellow he was. Until one fine summer morning. Wake up, wake up! Mmm. Oh, it's time to get up a little Red Riding Hood. The birds are seeing the sun is shining, and it's time to jump out of bed. That's for breakfast. A nice warm bowl of gruel and a honeycomb. Here, let me help you into your little Red Riding Hood while you eat. Thank you, Mother. And then it's off to Granny's house. When do we leave? You'll have to go alone this morning, dear. Alone? Granny's sick, and I want you to bring these biscuits and apple jelly right over to her. Do you think it's safe? Safe? With the birds singing and the sun shining? Well, I mean about the wolf. Red Riding Hood, I'm ashamed of you. Oh, I know he's just lonesome and all that. Oh, I could cry. Just cry when I think of that poor neglected creature. Mother, let's face it. He is a wolf. Without a friend in the world, not a friend. Oh, I know, and I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I can't help wondering if maybe there isn't a reason why he doesn't have a friend in the world. Oh, that's most unkind, dear. I suppose so. I'm sorry. Oh, there's my little Red Riding Hood. I guess if I keep straight on the path and don't loiter, I'll be all right. You just loiter all you want, dear. Well, I don't really care to. You might even stop along the way to pick some wild flowers. Mother, if it's all the same to you, I just don't. And remember the best ones are off the path, back in the woods where it's cool and dark. Just as you say, mother. Here's your little basket, dear. On your way now. Oh, mother, just in case something should go wrong. What could go wrong? Oh, nothing, I'm sure. But if, for example, I'm not back by dark, that's almost 10 hours. Then I'll know you're spending the night at Granny's, and I won't worry a bit. Well, I don't plan to spend the night at Granny's, so if I'm not back. I'll simply assume that you've changed your mind, dear. Now don't trouble yourself about me. I promise, mother. Have a nice walk. Goodbye. So little Red Riding Hood set off through the woods. It was a beautiful summer's morning, and just as her mother had told her, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and the rabbits and squirrels were talking among themselves. When, as Red Riding Hood was about halfway to her Granny's house, she remembered what her mother had told her about picking some wildflowers along the way. She began to stare, interestingly, into the tangled growth of trees and vines on each side of the path, along which she was walking. It certainly does look cool and dark in there. Maybe a little more dark than cool. Hmm. But what if the wolf was in there? Mother says he's probably just like a big friendly dog. Well, from what I've heard, if he's half as friendly as he is big, I haven't anything to worry about. These flowers along the path look nice enough. I don't know why I couldn't pick just a few of these, and that's funny. I don't hear the birds and the squirrels and the rabbits anymore. I wonder why they would stop talking among themselves. Good morning, Red Riding Hood. Oh, good heavens. Wolf, you scared me half to death. Where are you going, my dear? Well, I've got this basket of biscuits and apple jelly I'm bringing to my Granny. Nice. Very nice. She's sick. Too bad. It's nothing serious. Have a biscuit? Oh, no. Thank you, Red Riding Hood. Apple jelly? I don't think so. Do you notice how quiet all the birds and squirrels have got? Yep. By the way, where's your Granny live? Just up the path a little in the white cottage. That way? Yes. I'll see you. A wolf? Yeah. Mother says you're just like a big, friendly dog. Yeah. She says all you need is a chance to show people how nice you really can be. Sure, sure. Quite cottage? Straight up the path. I'll see you. And with that, the lonely wolf bounded off down the path toward Granny's house in the woods. Little Red Riding Hood couldn't help feeling sorry for the sad, shaggy creature. No wonder nobody liked him. He was so unpleasant looking with his long, yellow teeth and his bright, burning eyes. At this point, all the furry little creatures of the woodland suddenly came to life again. The squirrels chattered at the rabbits, and the birds sang in the sunlight. And Red Riding Hood hurried on away. A short time later, she reached to Granny's cottage and a clearing with three pines and a hazel thicket nearby and wrapped on the door. Granny, Granny. Who's there? Little Red Riding Hood, Granny, come to see you. Come in, come in. And walk softly. I'm not well at all. Granny? Who else? You don't look like Granny. No? Although I recognize that nightgown in bedcap. I'm not myself today, child. What have you brought me? Piscots and apple jelly. And Granny, I just met the wolf on the path to your cottage. Which wolf is that? The one with the big eyes like yours. And the big ears like yours. And the big sharp teeth like you. OK, so you know me. Where's my real Granny? I ate her up, what do you think? You ate my Granny? What was I going to do? Starve around those woods waiting for the squirrels to get stupid? You're not a big friendly dog. I am as friendly as the next one. Come here. No, I'm afraid of you. You're taking the wrong attitude. You just want to eat me up like Granny. Well, who said I didn't come back here? Oh, no, you won't catch me. You won't catch me. Mr. Randall, wake up, wake up. You won't catch me. You won't catch me riding all that violent junk, red riding hood, jacking the beanstalk. He's, he's delirious. Let's get him up on the couch. Oh, Mr. Randall, Mr. Randall. A lot of Giants, P-5, for fun stuff. He's not making any sense at all. Oh, that was a wolf. Hungriest wolf I ever saw. Chasing me through the woods and up a beanstalk. Up, up, up Jack climbed past the moon until he could look down and see the curve of the earth itself. When he came at last to the top of the great stalk and found that it was growing along the wall of a huge castle, he climbed inside and crossed a wide courtyard and entered a door leading to the largest room he'd ever seen. At the far end, he saw a woman 20 stories high bending over a great iron kettle. Good morning. My good gracious, what a cute little boy. Why, you're no bigger than a cockroach. My name is Jack, and I'm a lot bigger than a cockroach. Not the kind we have around here, little man. This is a Giants castle, isn't it? That's right, and I'm his wife. I understand that he likes to eat little boys. Now, whatever gave you that idea. Well, that's what they say. They say he goes around yelling, fee-fi-fo-fum. Oh, that. That's just a little song he likes to sing. He doesn't really mean any harm. Just the same, I think I better go back down the beatstock. Oh, now, you're not going to let idle gossip prevent us from being friends, are you, Jack? Well, the way I heard it, your husband is a... Right, there he is now. Where? Walking up to the castle, can't you hear him? That's someone walking? He has rather large feet. Come, I want you to meet him. No, no. Now, Jack, don't run away. I've got to hide. I'm afraid of him. Jack, come back here. Coming. I'm coming. Fe-fi-fo-fum. Oh, dear, I've got the most wonderful surprise. Well, you let me finish. I smell the blood of an Englishman. That's what I wanted to tell you. Be he alive or be he dead. We've got a visitor. I'll grind his bull... We've got a what? A little boy named Jack. He got here by climbing up a beanstalk. Oh, boy, I knew it. I could smell him all over the place. And since it's almost dark, I thought it would be so neighborly to have him for dinner. You said a mouthful. Where have you got him locked up? Locked up. In the icebox? Of course not. He's around here somewhere. Around here somewhere? You mean he's loose? Naturally. Haven't you learned anything at all the time we've been married? Well, if you must know, Jack was rather shy about meeting you. Shy? He was probably half out of his mind, and so he should be. What are you talking about? I'm going to eat him. That's what I'm talking about. How many times do I have to say a thing around here before you start getting the idea? Oh, please, I've had a hard day, dear. Don't start on that foo-fi-fee business. Fee-fi-fo! Very well. Fum! And if you paid a little more attention when I tried to tell you something instead of interrupting me all the time... All right, all right, dear. Say what you want. I'm listening. I like Englishmen, especially little boys, for dinner. Do you get it? For the main course. Now, where is this kid from the Beanstalk? Oh, it's getting so I can't tell when you're serious anymore. Don't try. Don't think about it. Put some more coal on the stove. I'll find him myself. Just as you say, dear. Last time I saw him, he was running towards the vegetable bin. Vegetable bin. Jacky! Jacky boy, dinner time! But call as he might and search as he would, the hungry giant could not find Jack. So grumpy and scolding, he sat down to a lamb chop. That's a whole lamb, chopped. And 12 dozen tomatoes. And as Jack watched from where he was hidden in the crater of Swiss cheese on a shelf, just above the vegetable bin, the giant finished eating, reached under his chair and lifted up what looked like a huge poultry pen. Inside it was a great yellow hen, big as an ostrich, and the giant set it on the table. All right, shut up. You're a great talker, but let's see some action. Egg me. You can do better than that. Come on. I'm waiting. That's my girl. Knock off. It's just an egg. You don't have to get out an extra. Okay, so it's gold. You didn't invent the stuff. Jack's eyes were as round as tea cups as he watched the giant put the golden egg in a jar and return the yellow hen to its slatted box. Then the giant blew out the candle and he and his wife climbed the huge stair to their bedchamber. For a long time, Jack sat in the darkness, nibbling at the cheese and waiting. And then when he saw the moon rising through one of the windows above the stove, he climbed down from his hiding place and tiptoed over to where the hen was kept. Hen, you awake? Listen, I'm Jack and the beanstalk. Not so loud. I want to be friends. I don't want any eggs. I want to help you. Please, wait. Look, I just want to tell you that I think there's a way you can escape from here. You don't have to go if you don't want to, but I got these beans. Shh, quiet. Okay, forget it. But shut up. Will you shut up? Now you've done it. The giant's coming. I don't want an egg. I just want you to shut up. She said there's nobody down here but us chickens. Yeah, he's at you, Jackie boy. No, no, no. Go on back to bed. I'm coming down to get you, you two. Oh, Mr. Randall, please, Mr. Randall. Now, don't worry, Mrs. Oakmont, the doctor's on his way. Look, his eyelids are fluttering. Leo, Leo, can you hear me? Leo. I hear you, but you're not going to catch me. Leo, lie still. We're going to take care of you. Yeah, I hear you coming, but you're not going to take care of me. You're a big man, very big man, but I've got it up here in the noggin. See, I'm creative. Leo, please. I'll think of something. You're a big man, but I'll think of something. The boy ran and ran and ran down into the lowest passageway of the castle until the last he came to a great iron door, which in desperation he threw open and tumbled into the chamber beyond. Where have you been? I had to help out at home. A fine sorceress apprentice you are. Can't even get to work on time. I'll start sweeping and bringing the water up right away. There's no time for that. I have to be off for the South country to see about stopping some earthquakes. Well, then I guess you won't be needing me. Of course I'll be needing you. The work here has to go on. But I know so little about your magic charms and spells. It's all in that great black book over there. You won't have any trouble at all. What if I do something wrong and make a mistake? How can you make a mistake with the book to guide you? Well, I knew it, this. You've got to start sometime. Now, stop worrying. I must be off. Look, sorcerer, why can't we just close up shop until you get back and then you can really show me how to do all this? It's a cinch, boy. When you want something done, just whip up an incantation and get someone to do it for you. But sorcerer. Happy day. Oh, my, my. I'm wrong for this. Look at all the spooky stuff around here. Jaws and bottles and this big book. How to talk to a shrew mouse. Which demons can be depended upon? Incantations in alphabetical order. Abdivatus, whatever that is. Beelzebub. Beelzebug. I wonder if that's bubba bug. Give some words here, all words. I can hardly make them out. The flat-foot Fuji with the Floyd-Doy. Floyd-Doy, Floyd-Doy, Floyd-Doy. And with that, the apprentice heard a great clap of thunder as a figure bathed in flaming lights stood suddenly before him dressed in black. Its eyes shining like the fires of perdition. Who are you? I am Beelzebub. Oh, that's right. You have called me from the Father's depths. Is it bubba bug? It's bub. Beelzebub. Now, shall be a task. A task. Give me something to do. Oh, well, let's see. Yeah, yeah, I know water. Water? Yeah, from the well. The sorcerer requires lots of water, and I hate to cod it up the hill. Water! In a flash, the demon had vanished from the room. And in a flash, he was back with enough water for every pale bucket and bowl in the house. But as the apprentice was about to thank and dismiss Beelzebub, the latter shot out of the door and returned with twice as much water as before, even though there were no containers to hold it. And despite the apprentice's pleadings, the demon continued to leave and return with more and more water until it asked the room had become like a new race. Where do you want this? I don't want it. We've got enough. Go back to the depths. Those aren't the words. Well? I can't stop until you say the right words. Where do you want the water? I've got all I want. What are the words? I don't know. Look in the book. I've got to get some more water. Oh, listen, you'll drown, Dice. I can't help it. I've got to get the water. Look, bub, be reasonable. You think I'd like this? Find the words. Oh, my, the words. I can't even find a book. Oh, the saucer is not going to like this. Not one bit. Oh, here we are, the book. Let's see. To get me in here, I said that thing about the Floy-Floy, but it doesn't have anything about getting rid of him. No water here. Lies it up on my chin. Get out, Floy-Floy. Floy-Floy yourself. Where do you want the next batch? I don't want it. Listen, I can't swib. Drink it. That's me, angle. I can't. I can't drink it all. I'll do your best, kid. I'll be back in a flash. No, no. Listen. Swallow a little more, Leo. No, no. You're OK, Leo. You just got hit on the head. I can't drink any more water. You have to try, Mr. Randall. I drank a whole cellar full. But it's good for you. It's not. It's very bad. And you leave me alone, you hear? I beg your pardon. You didn't think the wolf was after me, or the giant, or anything. What wolf? When I was little red riding hood, I'm lucky I'm alive. Really, Mr. Randall? A wolf is a wolf and a giant is a giant. Oh, now, you're just obsessed. You bet I'm upset. Leave me alone with the great black book. I almost drowned. Take it easy. Get out of here, Wilbur. Lots of sweetness and light. Cool down, now. You were right. It stinks. It absolutely stinks. She always got me drowned. Mr. Randall, at least you might have the decency. Get out. I could have been eaten by that wolf or the giant 12 times. Go on. Well, if you're going to take that attitude. I am. Goodbye. Very well. But you'll regret this. I'm sorry, Mrs. Oakmont. You have every reason to be, Mr. Halflinger. Leo, I'm sorry. Forget it. Man's crazy to try to change fairy tales. Terrible idea. I agree with you. Apparently, someone else does, too. Say, what was it hit me on the head? That's what I mean. It was this statuette I keep over the shelf of child books we publish. That's what hit me? Yes. Looks like the figure of an old woman. It is. A very old woman. Is that right? Yes. It's Mother Goose. You have a favorite time to pray. One friend of mine, a woman, thinks that the best time to pray is in the morning. Particularly a morning bright with sunshine when the skies are blue and the birds are singing. Prayers in the morning, she says, are prayers of hope. Now, another friend, a man, says that he prays best by the little reminders of the day. The sounding of a church bell, the sight of a poor beggar on the street, or the shock of a narrow escape at a busy intersection, seeing the inspiration on the face of a nun, watching a policeman helping an old lady across the street, or the feeling of hunger appeased after a good meal. He says prayers like this are mostly prayers of thankfulness. And still, another friend, a woman, insists that the best time to pray is when the dark comes and gently unfolds this garish, scotty world of ours. Prayers at night are inclined to be prayers of love, both of God and neighbor. Well, what I am doing is proving that it doesn't matter much when you pray, as long as you do pray. But pray especially as a family, for there is great joy in praying with others. Who of us still hasn't heard? That the family that prays together stays together. More things are brought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family Theater has brought you transcribed fairy tale starring Jack Haley. Deborah Padgett was your hostess. Others in the cast were Marjorie Bennett, Herb Butterfield, and Bob Benz. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by John T. Kelly, with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is George Crowell 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 rim rock starring Bill Williams. Barbara Hale will be your hostess. Join us, won't you? Broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.