 From Hollywood, California, the Lux Radio Theatre presents Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard in Front Page Woman with Roscoe Karnes. Lux presents Hollywood. It's a fast-moving romance comedy we bring you tonight, the love story of two reporters, the boy who thinks that journalism is purely a man's profession, and the girl who won't say yes till she shows him that he's wrong. Stard, our Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard with Roscoe Karnes, and a special guest, you'll hear that ace news gatherer Mr. Floyd Gibbons. Lewis Silvers is our musical director. Just a word now before our producer takes over. We are grateful to all of you for your loyalty to Lux Flakes. It's your purchases of our product that makes it possible for us to carry on with this program. And Lux can help you carry on with the many household tasks you have every day. Its rich, pure suds make short work of dirt, yet leave your hands soft and smooth. Yes, Lux give you double help. It gets rid of dirt fast and protects your hands too. Yet you pay so little for this extra help, a little goes so far, makes such fine, rich suds, Lux is thrifty. Keep a large box of Lux Flakes in the bathroom and in the kitchen, another in the laundry. And now your host and producer, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil D. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Front-page women are not new in history. There was, for example, that fabulous creature, Anne Royal, who wrote a column signed Paul Pry. Finding John Quincy Adams bathing in the Potomac, she sat on his clothes, which he left on the bank, until the embarrassed Mr. Adams gave her the most extraordinary interview ever granted by a President of the United States. The front-page woman of my boyhood was that darling of the press, Nellie Bly. She aroused international attention when, in 1889, armed with two knapsacks, a toothbrush, flannel underwear, a cap, Ulster, and stopwatch, she dashed around the globe on behalf of the New York world in the then incredible time of 72 days. Long's games and a racehorse were quickly named after her. And I still have a dim recollection of that beautiful reporter, Nora Donnelly, called the tut-tut girl. On the day Admiral Dewey returned from Manila, Nora boarded his ship for an interview. Rushing up to the admiral, she waved an American flag in his face and promptly burst into tears, whereupon the admiral remarked, Tut-tut, little girl, don't cry. That gave Nora her new name. Tonight's front-page woman, Paulette Goddard, is a star after only three pictures, her latest being the Selznick International film, The Young in Heart. Born on Long Island, Miss Goddard is a former Ziegfeld Follies beauty and is heard tonight as Ellen Garfield. Hollywood knows Fred McMurray as the man who said no. In the days when he was a $5 a day extra working in a mob scene, the director singled him out from a hundred others and afterward Fred bought to every extra as the opportunity of a lifetime the chance to speak a line, but Fred was frightened. Turned down the offer and went happily on at $5 a day until Paramount featured him. He stars soon in the new picture Cafe Society and tonight is Kurt Devlin. One of the screen's most reliable comedians, that perennial favorite Roscoe Kahn's, is heard as a news photographer who answers to the name of Kurt's. And so we go to press as the Lux Radio Theatre presents Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard in front page woman with Roscoe Kahn's. The reporter's room at North Prison. At a long table running halfway around the wall, a dozen telephones stand ready for service. They're silent now, but soon the wires will be screaming news as a woman pays the supreme penalty for murder. The reporters converse in hushed tones, nervous as the hour approaches. In the corner of the room, a long girl reporter waits quietly. She's outwardly calm, but her heart thumps wildly. From the doorway comes Kurt Devlin of the Daily Express. This is a festive occasion. Hard guy. Just had a talk with the warden. It won't be long now. Well, that suits me. I hate these affairs. Yeah, the sooner the better. How are you, Mr. Devlin? What? Well, I'm a so-and-so. That's what I always thought. What are you doing here, Garfield? Well, I'm covering the story for the star. You mean to say Spike Riley handed you this assignment? I asked for it. You asked for it? Well, why not? It's a big story, isn't it? Oh, look, Ted, but an electrocution is no place for you. Why not, I'm a reporter. No, you're not. You're just a sweet little kid whose family let her read too many newspaper novels. Now take my advice and get off. Oh, shut up. You think you're so cute, don't you? It's a wonder you don't talk baby talk. All right, all right. By the way, I don't suppose you've attended one of these high-tension parties before, have you? Well, there's always got to be a first time. Yeah, but somehow it all seems a little worse when they burn a woman. Well, why make an exception because she's a woman? Sure. Well, it ought to be quite an experience for you if your knees hold out. Don't worry about me, Mr. Devlin. You know, I'm really grown up now. Sometimes I even cross the street without taking the policeman's hand. Yeah? Yes. Listen, little Miss Frontpage, it's okay for you to chase fires and ambulances, but this is different. It does something to it. Choose you up and sign. Look at those guys. They've seen them before and they're really tough. Don't go through it, kid. You don't have to. I'll cover for you. No, not for me, you won't. I was sent here to see it and I'm going to. Oh, come on. Let me get you out of here. I'll write your whole story for you. No. I can take it if you can. Okay, tidbit. There's a warden, fellas. Well, what do you say, warden? All right, boys. You can go in now. Well, it's time for the slow music. Helen, how do you feel? Well, I'm fine. Come on, then. You wanted to join the parade and I'll keep step. Oh, honey, let me cover for you. No one will ever know. No. I'm going myself. I'll write my own story. I'll... Oh. Helen, hey, Nick. Matt, give me a hand. Little Miss Front Page just pulled a faint. How you doing, honey? I guess I'm all right now. Where are we? Almost back to town. It's all over and you're all covered. I phoned a story in for you. Oh, kid. I'm so ashamed. Thanks. Well, that's all right. Helen. Uh-huh? If you were me, would you ask me if I loved you? Uh-huh? Do you? Sort of? Not sort of. Lots of. Yeah? I know a guy that's married. He likes it. How about his wife? She wishes the guy were twins so she could commit bigamy and be twice as happy. What do you suppose would be like, kid? Heaven with all the modern conveniences. See, Helen, why not? All this stuff about being a newspaper woman, that's kid stuff. You don't have to work. No, but... Well, I just want to prove to you that I can be as good a reporter as the next fellow. Oh, stop it. Look, we could get one of those studio apartments with a fireplace and... What do you say, hon? Well, you make it sound nice, kid. Hey, wait a minute. The paper's on the street. Hey, boy, give me the Express. Yes, sir. Let me have a star, please. Yes, ma'am. Keep the change, kid. Thanks. Hey, here we are, honey. Listen. By Kurt Devlin, Express Staff Correspondent North Prison, November 10th. With a song on her lips, Mabel Gay, Broadway's female Boniface. Walked to the electric chair last night to expiate the murder of dapper Rudy Spain. Ah, boy, that's beautiful. Kurt Devlin, you're a rat. What? Well, you're a low, sneaking, vile despicable... What are you talking about? I'll show you what I'm talking about. Listen to this. By Ellen Garfield, Star Correspondent North Prison, November 10th. With a song on her lips, Mabel Gay, Broadway's famous female Boniface. Walked to the chair last night to expiate the murder of dapper. It's the same story. You covered me, didn't you? Oh, yes, you covered me beautifully. Well, you sent them the same thing word for word. But I told them to rewrite it. Ellen, honey, I didn't... You double-crossed me. What do you mean I double-crossed you? Do you think this is going to do me any good? They'll can me. Hey, wait a minute. Where are you going? I'm getting out of here before I slap your face in. Why are you going to get home? Well, the subways are still running. Yeah, but not to worry you can go as far as I can, sir. Hey, Kurt. What do you want? Are you going to eat that sandwich? What do you care? Well, if you ain't, I will. No sense letting all that mustard go to waste. Oh, go ahead and take it. Thanks. Okay, what do you... What are you beefing about? You ain't been fired. Not yet, anyway. Oh, boy, that was a swell story you, too, had. I looked at the express, and I looked at the star. And I thought I was seeing double. Oh, get out of here, will you, toots? Go on, go on, take some pictures. Pictures of what? Oh, I get it. You want me to beat it, huh? Come on, guy. Okay, okay. Kurt Devlin, the Tsar Puss of the Press Cafe. I'll get a picture of you like this some day, and you won't know you from a lemon. Hello, Kurt. Ellen. Oh, hello. I thought you'd be out of the newspaper business and taking a course in domestic science by this time. Kurt, I found out you really did try to cover me last night. Oh, you did? I'm sorry, Kurt. I should have believed you. I know, but do you think I'm a sort of a rat? Well, no. Just a little mousy, that song. Did they give you your notice? No, but I got a piece of our Mr. John's mind, and it was certainly no present that a gentleman should give a lady. What about you? Oh, Hartley was really quite pleasant about it. All he said was that he'd appreciate it if I could arrange a suicide pack with you. Well, I guess we're both in the doghouse. Yeah. Don't worry about it. I've been in the doghouse for so long I'm commencing to bark at strangers. Well, I'm not so worried about you. It's myself I'm worried about. Well, two more weeks and you'll be back covering the dally shows. Are you going to stop that again? Sure. Why don't you marry me? I'd make a swell husband, even if I am a reporter. I don't write novels and newspaper plays, and I take off my hat in the house. Perfect. Well, don't forget that I'm a newspaper woman, too. Yeah, and don't forget that women make pretty rotten newspaper men. Oh, is that so? Listen, I'm as good a reporter as any man, and I can prove it. The cons. And what's more, I'll make you admit it. Almonds. And I wouldn't marry you for anything in the world. Walnuts, both English and black. Why you? What's that? That? Well, that's the fire alarm bell, remember? They keep it here for the convenience of ambitious reporters who like to chase the engines. Yes, I do seem to recollect, but thank you anyway. Hey, Kirk, do you hear that? That's a three alarm. Well, now, what do you know? Terz has learned to count. Congratulations, Terz. Well, are we going to cover it? It's at the Granger Arms. That snooty apartment joint. I ought to get some pictures, maybe. Take your time. I'm having a talk with Miss Front Page. Well, the interview's ended, Mr. Devlin. I'm going to that fire. Fine. If it starts to burn out, I'll put some kindling on it and keep it going till I get there, will you? You're so smart. Good day, Mr. Devlin. Hurry up and maybe they'll let you ride on the hook and ladder. Backstreet behind the fire lines. Go on, now. But officer, I... That gunter is letting any woman through the fire lines. I don't care if it says you're a billy goat. You can't get through. Well, I'll be a billy goat if I want to. Oh, no, you won't. If you're going to be a goat at all, you'll be a nanny goat and black. Oh, sir. Oh, sir. Tell me, could you get me a cab? A cab? Would you please do as I say? I've got Mr. Stone here. Oh. He's been overcome by the smoke. Oh, Mr. Stone. Oh, yes, sir. Let a cab through here. Oh. How are you, officer? Oh, Mr. Stone. What are you doing here, sir? Showing remarkably good sense by... By leaving a burning building. That's all. Oh, sir. Mr. Stone is very shaky. Would you hurry that cab? Oh, sure, sure. I'll have it in a jiffy. Hey, Pram. Pram. Stone, are you all right? I... I don't know. Did... Did she get out of the apartment all right? I think so. Did she get out of that way? No one saw her. Find her. Tell her. Tell her I'm sorry. It was all my fault. Here's your cab, Mr. Stone. Thanks. Go ahead, driver. I'll tell you where to go. Now, young lady, are you still here? Yes, officer. I'm still here. And would you mind moving over just a little bit? You know, I can't see through a person. Oh, yes, you can. Oh, no, I can't. You can see through me, uncle. He's a skeleton. Good morning, Miss Garfield. And where have you been? And why don't you go back? What's the matter, Spike? Didn't you like my story of the fire? Oh, that was literature. The hungry flames greedily licked the paint from the building. I don't think my goose pimples will ever go down from that line. I'll bet we've given a million readers duck bumps. Yep, you've got everything there was to get. Everything except the story. If you want to get the real thing, take a look at this copy of the Express. Marvin Stone disappears after fire. Broadway producer missing after apartment house fire by Kurt Devlin. Spike, how do you suppose he got that? By being a newspaper man, Tickety. There are 200 fires in this town every day, but only one Marvin Stone. You know, to me, you're just another dame that Mr. Calling. You ought to write poems on birthday cards. Go on, give it to me. I have it coming, but... Stone. Stone. There was a stone at the fire. Spike, I think I've got to scoop. You couldn't scoop the insides out of a cantaloupe. Give me 24 hours. I think I've got something. Yeah, I think so too. Sleeping sickness. Can you hand me that phone? Just 24 hours, Spike. Just let me start out by finding where that cab took him. Look who? Stone, Marvin Stone. Hello? Hello? Brown and white cab? This is the Daily Star. Listen, one of your men picked up two men at the Granger Arms last night, about 9.30. One of them was sick, dark coat, gray fedora hat. We want to know where the driver took him. All right, I'll hang on. They're checking. Who was the other man? I don't know. I heard Stone mention a woman, too. What woman? I don't know. No, I didn't expect you would. Oh, please, Spike, give me a break. A break? You had your breaks one more and you'll break the whole newspaper. Hello? Hello? Yes? Oh, I see. Thank you. Well, well... This is it, Spike. The driver took Stone to the Plaza Hospital. There's a hospital. I'll get a man over there. Oh, no, you don't, Spike. You've got a woman and she's on her way now. One moment. Hello, Plaza Hospital. I'll see if he's in. Miss, will you please tell me? Go ahead, please. I did tell you. There's no one here by the name of Stone. Well, look, was there anybody admitted about 10 o'clock last night, a man? Well, James Craig at a quarter to 10. Well, that's it. I want to see him, please. You aren't family, are you? Family? Oh, no, I just... Well, then you can't see him. Mr. Craig died a half an hour ago. Died? Died of what? Well, I'm not supposed to tell, but it was a stab wound. A stab wound? Are you sure of that? That's what Miss Ohm said. She was the nurse in surgery. Miss Ohms, get her here for me, will you please? Give me two minutes with her and I'll make her famous. Oh. Yes, and you too. Hurry up. Here we are. The star makes another beat. Marvin Stone, dead of stab wounds. Entered hospital under an alias by Ellen Garfield. Lucky little Ellen. Marvin Q. Stone, theatrical producer, was found dead of a stab wound in the abdomen. That's the stomach, ain't it? Yeah, yeah. In the Plaza Hotel last night, searches being made for an unknown man and an unseen unknown woman referred to as she by the mystery man in stone. In an overheard conversation... Overheard conversation. I'll bet you overheard yourself. Oh, to think of you being beaten by a dame. Yeah. She pinned a rose on me, all right? I got a hand of that. Isn't your name Devlin? Well, well, how are you? I'm in the mood of my delight. What's on your mind? Oh, nothing. Just wondered if you've been reading a star lately. Yeah, there was an interesting article by Lydia Pinkham in your last edition. Oh, you mean your yarn. Oh, you just had a lucky break, that's all. You stumbled over something and it turned out to be a corpse. Really? You know, I think I hear a noise like the sound of crunch sour grapes. Listen, you haven't got a story. All you've got is a lead. The real story is digging up the unknown man and the unseen she and the guy who did the foul deed. That's where I come in in my quiet way. If I don't beat you to it. All right. If I turn up this murderer, will you give in and marry me? Good. Are you proposing? Sounded like that to me. Shut up, Toots. Will you or won't you? Maybe. If you find the murderer. It's a deal. Read all about it, honey, in The Daily Express. The curtain falls on Act One of Front Page Woman, starring Fred Bick Murray and Paulette Goddard with Roscoe Kynes. In our short intermission before going into Act Two, let's turn to our friends, the Brownings. It's late afternoon and 16-year-old Dot, home from school, finds her mother in the kitchen. Mother, may I make some fudge for the crowd tonight? Why, Dot, I'm right in the middle of getting supper, but... Oh, please, Mother, I'll wash all the dishes. Well, perhaps. And liquors are panwashers, Bobby. Aw, shucks. There's too much washing up around this house all the time. Aw, but you wouldn't mind, would you, Bobby? It's easy. Well, you should know. You're the demon dishwasher around here. Gosh, I never saw anybody like washing dishes the way you do. Well, gee, it's easy. With Lux Flakes, there's nothing to it. You're right, Dot. Dishes are easier with Lux. Easy on your hands, too. Yeah, and Archie Smith says... Bobby, you hush up. Well, anyhow, Archie Smith did say... Bobby, please! Bobby, you better run along and play. Well, shucks, Archie Smith... Well, people will always say nice things about Dot's hands, and yours, too, if you depend on gentle Lux for your dishes. These fine pure flakes help hands stay lovely. In fact, Lux is so mild, beauty experts advise it for dishwashing. Lux contains no harmful alkali to dry the natural oils in your skin and make your hands rough and red. And it's inexpensive beauty care, too. You need just a dash of Lux to give you a fine big panful of real beauty suds that protect your hands and make speedy work of your dishes. Yes, a little goes so far. Lux is thrifty. Buy Lux Flakes tomorrow for your own dishes and be sure to get the large size box for extra economy. Mr. DeMille. We continue with Front Page Woman, starring Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard with Roscoe Collins. It's the following day. In the office of the Daily Express, Curt and Toots are hot on the trail of the mystery woman. The desk in front of them is piled high with clippings from the newspaper file, clippings of the murdered Marvin Stone. Toots is furiously writing names on a pad. As he comes to the end of the long list, he looks at Curt and Despair. The mystery woman. Boy, she is a mystery. Yeah, as far as I can make out, this guy Stone has kept company with every demon in the world except Whistler's mother. Yeah, look at this list. You can interview the folly's line for ten years back and be only half through his address book. You got them all down? Yeah. Well, come on, let's go. Oh, Curt, we ain't gonna look up all these dames, are we? You think I'm crazy? I wish you hadn't asked me that. Well, the first dame we're gonna look up never twirled a toe at the bald heads in the first row of the folly's. We're going to see the nurse who was present at the death of the late lamented and punctured Mr. Stone. Say, wait a minute. Are we on the expense account? Sure, Seth. Okay. And oh, this is Toots. Call me a taxi cab. Yeah, never mind the old gang. The room where Marvin Stone breathed his last. And I'm afraid I can't help you. And I need details at all, and he never regained consciousness. The body's been taken to the morgue. Are his clothes still here? Yes, but I'm afraid they won't give you any clues. Please took everything out of the pocket. Nothing has less personality than a vacant suit, but I'd like to take a look at it, if I may. Well, it's not regulation. Aw, come on now, beautiful. What do you care about those old regulations, huh? Very well. It's in the closet. This is the suit he was wearing. Beautiful piece of material, ain't it? You'd toast marshmallows on the candles around a coffin. Do you mind if I examine it a little more closely? Not at all. Perfume. Have a sniff, Toots. Smells like foolish cardinium. Say, Kurt, what's perfume doing on a guy's suit? That's what I'd like to know. By the way, Toots, why don't you take a picture of the little lady in white here? Huh? Make a good human interest, or you know, no, not really. Well, that's an idea. Now, don't pose, honey. Just try to look like a cross between an angel and an ambulance going to a wreck. Oh, but I look too awful. You look very retro-gravy to me. Hold it. Oh, thank you. Thank you, Miss Nightingale. All right, all right. Toots, we're in a hurry. Goodbye, Miss, and thanks. Goodbye. Hey, Kurt, what was so much about taking her face? We can't use her picture. Shut up. You were busy while I was cutting myself a slice of suit. Stone suit? Yeah, stone suit. I took myself a small piece of lapel smelling of foolish gardenia. Okay, so what? Let's find out who used to clean Mr. Stone's clothes. I think I've got an idea. For years I cleaned the suits. Fine. Do you happen to remember this piece of material? Material? Say, this is a good piece of goods. Sure, that's often Mr. Stone's suit. A double breasted. I cleaned it the day Mr. Stone was killed. Yeah? What time did you deliver it to him? Well, at the same night at eight o'clock. Personally, I delivered it. Eight o'clock, huh? The fire was at nine. Sure. Are you a detective? I'm beginning to think so. Much obliged. Come on, Toots. Say, would you be violating a confidence if you told me what we're doing? We're smelling out a murderer. What we need now is a perfume shop, some place with class. There's an educated smeller like yours. Just take a whiff of this cloth and tell me what you can about the perfume. Mmm, it's very fine, expensive perfume. Not a standard brand, an individual creation. Very feminine. Did you blend it? Oh, no, but whoever did is a fine performer. It's heavy without being soggy. It has a distinct personality. In other words, the perfume might have been blended to reflect the personality of the woman wearing it? Oh, undoubtedly. What sort of woman? Well, naturally, I couldn't be certain, but I definitely know it is the kind of perfume I would blend for a dark, decidedly Latin type. Latin type. Latin type, huh? Thanks, Mrs. Shenard. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your poking your nose into my business. Oh, not at all, not at all. Tut's my good man. Yeah, what do you want, brains? We're going hunting for Latin. I tell you, I've got it, Tut. When Stone was stabbed, the mysterious woman was with him. All right, Sherlock. I'll bite. How do you know she was? Simple, Watson. The suit was delivered to Stone at eight o'clock. The tailor said so. Yeah? Couldn't have come from the cleaner smelling of perfume. No. Therefore, the perfume must have permeated his clothes between eight and nine, right? Mm-hmm. He was stabbed between eight and nine, so the woman was with him. Still right? Yeah, yeah, you're right. Now, the Latin type was with him when he was knife, so we go looking for Latins. Yeah. So we've seen a dame on our list named Cochita Rinal. Check. A dame named Martelli. Mm-hmm. A dame named DeCosta. Mm-hmm. And a dame named Bolini. Right. And where are we? We're on our way to the Gayety Theater, my friend, to see a name named Inez Cordoza. So I says, I'll get my chance if I have to break the leading lady's leg myself. Oh, yeah. That's the way I feel sometimes. Gee. The idea of breaking it in our rehearsal. I'm sorry. Could either of you two lovelies tell me if Miss Inez Cordoza's around? Inez? No. She quit the show about a month ago. Oh, she did. Huh? Where is she now? She moved. I know that because I called her up this morning to get the dirt in her boyfriend being murdered, and they said she left. Mr. Marvin Stone was her playmate, huh? Say, what are you, detective? With dandy little feet like mine? Ha. Now, sister, I'm a reporter, and if you help me out, I'll have some good publicity. Well, my name's May LaRue. M-A-E. M-A-E. Take that down to it. I got it. Mine's Olive Wilson. Fine. Now, uh, what do you know about our Inez? Oh, I don't know so much, except that Stone was pretty crazy about her. Well, she went for him, too. That isn't until Mr. Coulter came along. Coulter? You know, Madeleine Coulter, the big shot polar player, and what Stone burned up. Yeah, tried to take a poke at Coulter one night right outside the stage door. Yeah, it was disgusting. See both of them, but they're right. Mm-hmm. The next day, she quit the show, and nobody's seen her since. Hey, this is wonderful. I'll bet you were... you're the girls that... the kind of showgirls that write novels and sculpt statues on the side. How do you know? You have minds. Uh, by the way, did Inez leave any dresses or handkerchiefs around? No, she took everything. Inez was that way. Well, she left the slip hanging on my rack in the dressing room, but I don't see what good that'd do you. Get it for me, will you? Okay. Yep. Leave it to babyface Inez to get publicity like this. You know, if I thought for a minute that I'd get splashed all over the front page, I'd slip a little cyanide to Butch. Who's Butch? Oh, that's my boyfriend. What's the matter? Don't you like him? Yeah, sure I like him. He's swell, but a girl has to think of her career. Now, there's a girl with a brain, Toots. I'll bet she has a PhD. Who told you? Oh, do you mind giving it to me? Of course not. Thanks. Perfume, huh? Hey, Toots. What? That's a perfume. The same as on the coat. Toots? The unseen she is Inez Cordoza. Yeah. Try photographing an unseen she. Hello, Mac. Mrs. Kurt. Hold the first edition for a stop-press and get a picture of Inez Cordoza and Maitland-Colder out of the files. And send them down to me at police headquarters. I'm waiting there now. Have I got something? Listen, I've got a story that'd curl the hair on an eggplant. Hey, Sergeant, is the lieutenant still busy? Yep. He'll see you in a minute. Well, how's the future, Mrs. Kurt Devlin? Fine. In the disappointed bride room? Ameless, just aimless. How are you doing? Well, I've got a tree and no coconuts. Just got some routine stuff from the lieutenant. Anything to pick up your ears about? Not much. They found a loaded automatic in Stone's apartment, but no knife. The gun had never been fired. Gun, huh? What happened to the knife that did the deed? That's what the lieutenant would like to know. I'll bet. Any signs of a struggle? Yes. And the Negro house man says a man asked the number of Stone's apartment and went up about 8.30. And just before the fire broke out, a neighbor's complained of loud voices. Add that up and what do you get? A question mark. I suppose you've made some startling discoveries. No, no. In fact, it looks as though you're going to have to marry me out of love and not defeat. Maybe I will when you admit I must put a newspaper man as you. Oh, come on, Ellen. Let's call it a draw right now and never talk about it anymore, huh? Look, I made a bet with you on this Stone case. If you back out, you're a well-chief. Okay. How about having dinner with me tonight? I'll meet you at the room about 7. Dutch? Let me take you for once, will you? I'm commencing to feel like a Dutch uncle. You're commencing to talk like one. See you at Rome. Okay. The lieutenant will see you now, Devlin. Oh, thanks, Sarge. Oh, and by the way, you'd better notify the homicide squad. Tell them to dig up a guy named Maitland-Colder and a Latin lovely named Ines Cordoza. I've got a hunch the lieutenant will want to make a couple of arrests. Hello, Roma. Ah, Mr. Devlin, the lady is waiting for you over here. Hello, honey. Do you think I never get here? Oh, I didn't mind waiting for you. Sit down. Thanks. Ah, gee, I like you. I'm sort of fond of you, too. Don't know why, except you remind me of an Irish terrier I had once. Smart dogs, Irish terrier. Well, this one wasn't. He bit me. All of which shows us Irish terriers will just stand so much. Which reminds me to tell you, you're through playing newspaper. You're going to get off that sheet and marry me. That's right. When you admit I'm as good a reporter as you. Listen, I'm tired of humoring you and trying to save your face. You're not a reporter and you never will be. You're just another name getting in the way around a newspaper office. In fact, you don't even know when you've been taken to the cleaners. So that's what you think, is it? Yeah. Here, take a look at the express. Go on, read it. Coulter and woman implicated in stone murder. Maitland Coulter, wealthy polo player and Ines Cordoza's showgirl, were definitely identified by an express representative as the mystery man and the unseen she, who were in Stone's apartment the night he was stabbed. Why? Sure, look. Coulter was arrested in his luxurious bachelor quarters at the exclusive town apartments at six o'clock this evening, but refused to make any statement. Police are searching for Ines Cordoza, who has disappeared and so forth and so forth and so forth. Well? All right. You win. Good night, Kurt. Hey, where are you going? You forgot to find Ines Cordoza. I suppose I've got to do it for you, so long. Oh, two women who are what goiters out of science, a pain in the neck. This is Ellen Garfield. Spike, I've got a lead on Ines Cordoza. I found out where Devlin picked up his stuff. He went down to the gate. He impumped the girls. Well, I did too, and I've got Cordoza's slip. Yes, but it has a laundry mark on it. What do you mean what good is it? Don't you know human nature? People don't change their laundry. All I have to do is to find out which laundry it is, who the mark belongs to, and then wait for someone to call for some clean shirts. I'll tail a home in 10 to 1. I'll find Ines Cordoza. All right, 20 to 1. Goodbye, Spike. There's another laundry, miss. Thanks. Wait for me, will you? Yes, ma'am. Good evening, miss. What can I do for you? I've been to every laundry in town. Maybe you can help me. I'd like to know if this is your laundry mark. Yeah, let me see. Well, yes, yes. This is one of our marks. It is? Uh-huh. I'm from the store in the Marvin Stone case. Can you tell me whose mark it is? Well, not the name, miss. But there's a gentleman who calls for laundry with this mark. In fact, I have a package for him now on a rush job. Today? Well, yes. He said he'd be here just about... Oh, pardon me, please. You got my laundry? Yes, sir, right here, sir. How much? One dollar and a half. Thank you, sir. Good day. Good day. Oh, miss. Yes? That man, he's the one. He just took the package with the same mark as you showed me. He did? So where does he live? Do you know? Well, no, miss, I don't. But I might be able to find out. Well, never mind. I'll follow him. Thanks very much. I'm looking for Arnaz Cordoza. Come in. Oh. Thanks. You followed me from that laundry, didn't you? Well, no, I didn't... Oh, yes, you did. I saw you there. Robert. Come here, Arnaz. Arnaz. So you're Arnaz Cordoza. Robert, what does she want? You're crazy. I'm no cop. Shut up. Sis, go in the other room. No. Robert, don't. Get away from me. Go on. Do as I tell you. Wait. Listen. You've got me all wrong. Oh, no, I haven't. I got you dead to right, sister. So if you know what's good for you, you'll sit tight and keep your clap a-shutter. You'll be going back to headquarters on a slab. We pause for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. We've just completed Act Two, a front-page woman. Fred McMurray, Paulette Goddard, and Roscoe Carnes are heard soon in the third act. Now it's intermission time, and time for Mr. DeMille to introduce the evening special guest. But before he does, just a word about our product. Lux is the world's largest selling package soap for fine fabrics. And here's why. Lux contains no harmful alkali. It's so mild, so pure, it's safe for anything that's safe and water alone. A little goes so far. Make such fine, rich suds. Lux is thrifty. Hello, dear sir. Mr. DeMille. We've just been hearing about the adventures of a front-page woman. Right now, we're going to hear from a man whose stories have been printed on page one many times, with date lines from Paris, London, Berlin, Shanghai, Madrid, and a hundred other cities around the globe. If I were to tell you the story of Floyd Gibbons in one sentence, I should say that he was there when it happened. Because for many years he's shown an astonishing ability to get to the scene just in time for a big news break. I can't see all the way to New York, but I know exactly how Floyd Gibbons looks as he waits in a New York studio. He's a brawny strapping fellow with a red face and bristly hair, sitting before a microphone with his hat hanging precariously on the back of his head. He's full of nervous energy. When he talks, his fist flies out, driving home his words. Over one eye is that familiar white patch, a relic of 1918 and bellow wood. Speaking to you now from New York is the headline hunter, Floyd Gibbons. Thank you, Mr. DeMille, and hello everybody. Here in New York, I've been listening to Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard in front-page woman. Now, that's a play about my kind of people. Newspaper men and newspaper women. We make fun of ourselves, but we do our darndest to outwit each other on the job. For many years now, I've been well trying to figure out just what it is that changes a normal happy everyday sort of a person into a newspaper man or woman, and by golly, I still don't know. One day, some 20 years ago, I stood in a boxcar down in Mexico talking to Pancho Ville, the revolutionary leader. I was just a kid and I threw questions at him one after another. I was so dumb, I didn't know that nobody dared question Pancho that way. Pancho got sore as a boil on the neck. He snarled at me in Spanish, what do you want to come down here for, Gringo? You have a nice, soft bed at home. Well, sir, I couldn't think of the answer to them and I still can't, but I stuck it out with Villa and his army and I saw plenty happen during that fightful war, including a 300-mile retreat, which I think I led, otherwise I wouldn't be here tonight. The newspaper reported tries his dog, Gondas, to be there when it happens, because the best and most truthful report of any happening is that of the personal eyewitness who can honestly say, I saw it. I was there when it happened. He has to keep in mind the importance of the main event, but must not overlook the apparently unimportant little facts that prove the truth of the story. I was on the 19,000-ton liner Laconia when it was torpedoed and sunk in mid-Atlantic. We were carrying a huge cargo of explosives. The thing I remember most is what a Canadian aviator named Dugan said when the torpedo hit us. Three of us were sitting in the smoking room listening to a phonograph playing for a butterfly. Dugan passed a pack of cigarettes and offered a light. He was the third man on the match. A few seconds later, the ship gave a sudden lurch. The deck began to slant, and the fog horn began to blow the signal to distress. That was when Dugan became one of our candidates for immortality. He blew some smoke out of the side of his mouth and said, hm, that was out of lousy torpedo. It didn't even blow up the munitions. Well, sir, the boat sank, but we got away all right and were picked up by a patrol boat without wireless the next morning. It took us so long to reach the Irish coast that American newspapers thought we were lost. The boss printed my obituary in the papers, and, oh boy, was his face red when he got a 4,000-word cable story on the sinking of the Laconia from me the next morning. Of course, my clothing, trunk, and typewriter, and everything went down with the ship, and they also went down on the old swindle sheet. I mean the expense account. It isn't just ability to write that makes good reporters like these kids, Ellen Garfield and Kurt Devlin, in the play tonight. One of the best writers I know is my pal Westbrook Pegler, but Peg would still be a great reporter if he couldn't write a grammatical sentence. When King George V died, Pegler and I were covering the story of the funeral in London. Newspaper men had to stand in line like the tens of thousands of morning subjects of the late King, a line that stretched out for four miles, moving slowly forward in the rain. It looked as though it would take us 10 or 12 hours to reach Westminster Hall, the place where the body was lying in state. Peg found a fellow who had a little sympathy for us when he found we were newspaper men, and he slipped us through the back door of Westminster Hall. That's just across the street from the Abbey. And Peg, well, Peg beat the other correspondence by several hours. It cost us eight Bob Eats to get in. That's $2, you know. That was the first and last time I ever got into a royal funeral by the back door. There was nothing irreverent in our act, but it really was crashing the gate. A newspaper man does get around to a lot of places, and incidentally, Cecil B. DeMille, so does that product of yours. I've run into Lux Flakes all over the world. I've seen it in store windows from Shanghai to London. How do you do it? Mr. DeMille. And now, good night. How do we do it? Hmm, you've got to be good, Floyd. You've got to be good. That goes whether you're a reporter or a flake of soap. Good night and our thanks to you, Floyd Gibbons. And happy headline hunting. We're back in Hollywood and ready to star Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard in the third act of Front Page Woman with Roscoe Collins. A few minutes have passed. Ellen, worried but calm, gazes steadily at the revolver which Robert Cordoza holds pointed at her head. Then she smiles quietly. You wouldn't really use that gun on me, would you? You never can tell, fly cop. But I'm not a fly cop. I tell you I'm a reporter. Robert, maybe she is a reporter. Miss Cordoza, believe me. I'm the only one who knows you're here. I want to get your side of the story because every day you don't tell the story, the public gets more and more convinced that you're guilty. But I'm not your... Well, then tell the world you're not. Stop trying to peddle that phony chatter off. Well, I'm only trying to help her. Shut up and sit down. Listen, my nez, you're leaving here tonight. Go inside and start packing. All right. But Robert... Get inside. Nice place you have here, Mr. Cordoza. You know, if you'd listened to me... I said shut up. All right. May I smoke? Some cigarettes on the table. Thanks. My brand, too. Lucky Ellen Garfield. Where are you going? Get away from that window. It's awfully stuffy here. I thought you wanted to smoke. I do. You better come back here and sit down. Listen, I... What are you doing? Look out! The curtains! The curtains are on fire! But put it out. Do something. We'll be burned to death. Or you'll never get it out. That way pull the curtains down. Jump on them. We'll be burned. There. There it's out. I ought to bust you into you. I wouldn't if I were you. You? Where'd you get that gun? Thanks, Mr. Cordoza, for putting out the fire and thanks for putting your gun down when you did. Now, Mr. Cordoza, you wouldn't believe me when I said I was trying to help your sister, so I'll have to prove it to you. Call Mr. Cordoza, please. We're going to see the DA. Mr. Cordoza, I want you to tell your story and tell it as straight as you can. Not only to help me, but to save yourself. Go on, Agnes. The DA doesn't bite. Well, I went to Mr. Stone's apartment for dinner. When I arrived, Mr. Colder was there and Stone was sick. Colder wanted to call a doctor, but Stone wouldn't let him. He said it was nothing. Well, I thought he'd been drinking too much. We got to arguing. Stone struck Colder. I got frightened and ran out of the apartment. That's all I know, everything I swear. Well, why did you hide out? I was afraid Colder might be drawn in. I didn't want to testify against him. I love him, but he's innocent. I tell you, innocent. You've got to let him go. Please, Mr. Cordoza, no hysterics. You can go now. We've assigned a matron to stay with you until Colder comes to trial. I mean, they won't hurt you. Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Goodbye. Well, Miss Garfield, congratulations. You did a splendid job finding Cordoza. Oh, nothing at all. Hello. Said you wanted to see me here. That's right, Devlin. I want to thank you for what you've done on the Stone case. I think Miss Garfield's done fairly well herself. Well, thanks, Kurt. Well, I guess Colder's a man, all right. Looks open and shut. Open and shut? Hardly. Where's Exhibit A? A man who brings a gun to commit a murder doesn't bring a knife, too. A man who thinks to take a knife wouldn't forget and leave his gun in the middle of the floor. To build a case, we've got to have Exhibit A, the instrument with which the murder was committed. The knife hasn't been found. Well, how can they find it? They've searched Stone's apartment from stem to stern. Sure. But what that search like was the Devlin touch. Leave it all slew for folks. I'm practically there now. Brandishing the knife. Oh, sure. I clean up apartment for Mr. Stone. Every day I clean with vacuum. Ooh. You did a very good job, too. I cleaned up off the murder. You sure did. Pipe dentists. Now, look, I wonder if you'd be a good boy and let me see you vacuum cleaner. I go get. Ooh. Say, what do you expect to find in that Bronx bagpipe? I don't know. But our little Chinese friend swing out here says he cleaned up the mess in the living room with it, so we might as well take a chance. Say, Mug, you get more and more elementary all the time. Here, vacuum cleaner. Oh, thanks. And now let's see what's in the vacuum bag. Here, just make yourself useful. Help me dump out the dirt. Oh, I wish I'd never loaned you that philo-van spoke. Wow. Look at the sand. Sand. How do you suppose that got here? Maybe swing out clean the spinach with it. Oh, wait a minute. Sand. What's in that big vase standing over there by the door? Well, what's in it? Sand. Sand. Sand. Oh, you see, you sound like delirium tremens lost in the Sahara. It's an ashern. They're always full of... Full of sand. Here, give me a hand with this. We're going to dump it. Maybe you'd like to put up a few beach umbrellas. Come on. Help me here. Let's see. Cigar, cigar, cigarette butts. Cork, cigarette... So you know you could get a job in the nightclub doing that act. Cigar, cigarette butts. Cigar, cigarette butts. All right, wise guy. Look at this. Here it is. Oh, for the love of Mike. The knife. Yeah, the knife. And this little instrument, my friend, is going to give the DA a thrill in Mr. Colder the shock of his life. Hey, hide that knife, Toots. Well, look who's here. Oh, I felt a great need for you, Kurt. And I knew you'd be here. What a mess. I see you've been looking around. Find anything? Me? Oh, no, no, no. No, no, such luck. There's a knife in this room and it'll take Lady Macbeth to see it. Well, too bad, Kurt. Yeah, certainly is a shame. Ex-tree, ex-tree. Colder indicted. Express fine stoneware tonight. Kurt Devlin finds knives. Hey, baby. Hey, blur, extra. Call the trial, dear Zen. Call the trial, dear Zen. It was found in an ash receptacle. Why? Because this is what happened. There was a quarrel. Colder drew his revolver. In a struggle, stone knocked it from his hand to the floor. Then Colder snatched the paper knife from the table and plunged it into the man he hated, committing the crime for which he came. Murder, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Premeditated murder, the same of which the people demand you find him guilty in the first degree. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the state rests. Ellen. What do you want, double crosser? Say, we've got plenty of time to hang around the courthouse. You better stick with me. I really got something this time. I'll cut you in. No thanks. You might slip and cut my throat again. Okay, if that's the way you feel about it. Hey, Tuts, wait for me. Okay, what's on your mind? Listen, Tuts, I've got an idea. I'm sick of your big ideas. I hang out with you and I never get a chance to take any pictures. Tuts, come with me to the superintendent's office. Everybody's gone out for air but the jury. What do you want in the super's office? Keys, Tuts. One key to be exact. The key to the broom closet. Listen, I can't take no pictures in a broom closet. Shut up, William. I've been studying the plans of this courthouse and I find the broom closet's got a double door. One opens into the hall and the other opens into the jury room. And I, my friend, am going to listen at the keyhole. I get it. You scoop the verdict. Brilliant. Come on, Tuts. Here's the key. All right, hurry up. Open the closet. If we're too late, I'll kill you. What do you mean? You spent four hours getting the key. Come on, come on. Open it up. It's dark in here. Close the door. It smells like old mobs. Shut up. Listen. We'll vote once more. And this time, Mr. Harrow, I hope you see the light and vote guilty. I'll vote the way I like. It's 11 to 1. Holy, shut up, shut up. All once more. Smith, guilty. Vance. Guilty. Noise. Adamson. Guilty. Norris. Guilty. Basic. Guilty. Carrots. Guilty. 10 for guilty. And my vote makes 11. And now, Mr. Harrow, how do you vote? I vote the way I please. I... Well... I... It's... Guilty. Guilty. Colder's guilty. What a scoop. Better hurry and pull that news in. Now that's where I'm going now. Oh, look, Tuts. The judge is out to dinner. That means the jury will have to wait in the outer room. You get in the jury room, and they leave and mark the ballots not guilty. Not guilty? What for? The jury just said he was guilty. I know. But will you do as I tell you? Mark all the ballots not guilty and leave them lying on the table. I'm manufacturing a newsbeat for a little Miss Front Page. You mean she scoops the verdict and is the wrong one? Right. She'll be hanging around the press room with the rest of the boys. I'll go and tip her off. Now, remember... No news yet. Signed you're dead and dying Garfield. Hey. Hey, Garfield. What do you want? Come closer. I know a secret. What secret? You'd better hurry to the jury room through the broom closet. Through the broom closet? With what? With the key. Toots is there and he's got the key. Go find Toots if you want to scoop. I'd like to believe that. Listen. Go in there and read the ballots. I know the verdict, but you wouldn't believe me. Go in there and see for yourself. All right. Thanks, Kurt. Sorry. Thanks, Ray. Get your express. Cold or guilty? Thanks, Ray. Get your star. Cold or not guilty? Thanks, Ray. Cold or guilty? Thanks, Ray. Cold or not guilty? He is so. He is not. Thanks, Ray. Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict? We have. The defendant will rise and face the jury. What is your verdict, gentlemen? We find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree. Baylor. Yes, Your Honor. That reporter Devlin knew the verdict before it was brought to court. I want to see him in my chambers at once. Mike, I steered you wrong. Yes, Kurt is guilty. Yes, guilty. Signed you're loving, but fired Garfield. Hey, Garfield, what's the matter? What's... What are you crying about? Oh, I'm washed up to it. I don't need Spike Carley to tell me I haven't got a job. Oh, gee, tough luck, kid. I'm sorry. You're not as sorry as I am. Oh, I'm going over to the press café and down my sorrows. Well, you can console yourself, honey. The judge just put Devlin in the can. As for you, Devlin, you look swell behind bars. You can rot in jail. I wash my hands of the entire matter. But Lester, you're my editor. For heaven's sake, get me out of here. No, and don't call me Lester. You brought this down on yourself. The express disclaims all responsibility. All right, the turnkey's gone. Now what? Fine, great stuff, kid. Congrats. You did a great job. Don't worry, we'll spring you. So long. So long. Hello, Kurt. Well, look who's here. What's the charge on you? Nothing. I've been fired. That's all. I'm through. Washed up. Oh, I'm... I'm sorry I tripped you up in that yarn, but... After all, you should have known better than to fall for that. You don't have to rub it in, Kurt. I know when I'm late. Well, I guess you're right. No job for a woman. Sure. Women make bad newspaper men. But not too bad, you lug. Look at what's in this copy of the star. Start memorizing this one. I killed Stone. Ines Cordoza's showgirl fiancé of colder confesses fatal stabbing by Ellen Garfield. Say, what did you give the story... You know, Kurt, you see, I had a lunch about that girl from the very beginning. I met her at the press café after the verdict. She was all set to break down, so I broke her down. She told me how it happened. When colder drew his gun, Stone grabbed it. Ines said that he'd have killed colder if she hadn't grabbed up that knife in desperation and let him have it. Yeah, but the fingerprints, those were colder sprints on that knife. Yes, but Ines was an evening dress. She had on long white gloves. And the minute she stabbed colder, Stone, colder grabbed the knife out of her hands. Well, for the love of Mike. That's the way to work. That's being a good newspaper man. Do you mean that? I hate to say it, but I do. Well, that's all I wanted to hear. Given, darling. I do. Oh, darling. Nice clinch, folks. You can cut out that silly stuff now. I've got the picture. So ends front page woman, starring Fred McMurray and Paulette Goddard with Roscoe Carnes. Our stars will be back in a few seconds for a personal interview. But right now, here's something I bet is news to a lot of housewives. Did you ever stop to think how much walking you do every day in the course of your housework and shopping trips? Well, I can tell you, it's nearly eight miles every day. Yes, and that comes to 3,000 miles a year. Why, that's the distance across the United States. And you get more exercise than that, too. But with all the kneeling and stretching and stooping you do around the house, think what that does to your stockings. They're apt to get runs if they aren't nice and elastic. Elasticity, you know, helps your stockings give under strain instead of breaking into runs. Now let me tell you a way you can help your stockings wear longer. Every night, when you take them off, give them a quick dip in a basin full of rich lux suds. Lux flakes save stocking elasticity and cut way down on runs. Soaps with harmful alkali or rubbing with cake soap weakens elasticity. Gentle lux has no harmful alkali. It's safe for anything safe in water alone. So give all your nice things this special care to help them stay new looking longer. Your underthings and nightgowns, your washable dresses and all the little accessories that make or mar your appearance. And remember, a little goes so far. Lux is thrifty. And for even greater thrift, buy lux flakes in the large size box. Now, Mr. DeMille. Now for a three-star final. A short session with tonight's headline makers. Here's Fred McMurray and here also is the new star whose brief but brilliant record is holding the attention today of every Hollywood studio. Well, CB, perhaps not every studio, but I know what you mean. I want to say it's darn quiet of you and I. Well, I hardly know what else to say. Well, then suppose we skip it, Roscoe, until I finished introducing Paulette Goddard. Huh? Oh, excuse me. It's all right, Roscoe. And thank you, Mr. DeMille. But let me stay in character as a reporter for just another moment, because I'm sure it's news to many lux listeners that you're making this broadcast from a stretcher. Oh, not just this broadcast, Paulette. It's a picture, too. What was the disaster that swept you off your feet, Mr. DeMille? Just a little accident on the set, Miss Goddard. But it has its advantages. The cast of Union Pacific felt so sorry for me today, directing from a stretcher, that they accomplished two days' work in one. With results like that, I'm seriously considering remaining in this perambulator until the picture's finished. Once I fell for a stunt something like that, Mr. DeMille, it seemed as if you just couldn't play a scene the way the director wanted it. So finally we drove him into such a fit of raves that he snatched his watch from his pocket and smashed it to bits on the floor. There was a dead silence as we watched him get down on his hands and knees and pick up the pieces. Tears streamed down his face as he told us that the watch was his most prized possession. It was from years before. Nothing had met quite as much to him. The cast felt pretty bad about it. Finally the director dried his tears and we went back to work. This time, of course, we played the scene perfectly and he sent us out for lunch. As I was going out the door, an electrician stopped me and said, don't let it get you, Fred. He whispered, it was just a dollar watch. I've seen him pull that stunt a dozen times and it's never missed yet. Yes, now I can tell you another time that Fred failed to live up to expectations, Mr. DeMille. You were hoping he'd be a girl. What's wrong with that? Mine were hoping for a boy. That's why I'm Paulette, the feminine version of Paul. Yes, but they were going to call Fred Rose because he was born on St. Rose Day. When you picture McMurray with a hearty cultural handle like that... Take it easy, Mr. Kahn. Fred spent the last six weeks learning to box. Yeah. After being called upon to sock somebody and almost every picture he's made, they've finally given him a pair of eight-ounce gloves and turned him into a professional slugger. Do you like the idea, Fred? I like it. It has a couple of good drawbacks. The first one was that I planned to take a hunting trip and I had to forget all about that and take boxing lessons. And the second drawback is the plaid suit I've got to wear. It's got checks bigger than the first price of the Irish sweepstakes. But as I always say, that's the movies for you. So long, CB. Good night, Mr. DeMille. And many thanks for this chance to appear on a program which I listened to with so much enjoyment. Yes, me too. I hope that you don't have to take it lying down much longer. Thank you, Mr. McHarrie. Thank you, Mr. McHarrie. We'll talk here soon again. There's an outstanding dramatic event awaiting you here next Monday night. Listen for Mr. DeMille's announcement of it in just a moment. Assisting tonight's stars were Ines Seabury as Olive Wilson, Margaret Brayton as Mae LaRue, Lindsay McHarrie as Officer Hollahan, John Fee as Maitland Coulter, Lee Millar as Marvin Stone, Lou Merrill as Spike Keiley, Ralph Sadan as Robert Shenard, Abe Reynolds as a tailor, Frank Nelson as Robert Cordoza, Mary Jane Carnes as Ines Cordoza, Ted Osborne as District Attorney, Edward Marr as Laundry Man, David Starling as a Chinese cleaning boy, Harry Humphrey as Judge, Joe Franz as Bailiff, Elizabeth Wilbur as a nurse, Eleanor Harriet as telephone operator, Sydney Newman as taxi driver, Ross Forrester as Warburton, Rose as newsboy, and James Robbins as a reporter. Our musical director, Lois Silvers, appeared through courtesy of 20th Century Fox Studios. He was in charge of music for their new picture, Jesse James. Front Page Woman was produced on the screen by Warner Brothers Studio. Here is Mr. DeMille. Next Monday night, the anniversary of his first appearance on the air in drama, Mr. George Arlis returns to the Lux Radio Theatre. This beloved artist will be heard in our adaptation of one of his most popular screen triumphs, the dramatic story of an uncrowned king of France, Cardinal Richelieu. Our play is the story of one of the world's greatest statesmen, a man who matched his wits and life against the intrigues of the nobility that France might be united. Supporting Mr. Arlis, you'll hear an all-star cast featuring Florence Arlis, Caesar Romero, Heather Angel, Montague Love, and Douglas Dumbrill. This is Cecil B. DeMille, saying good night to you from Hollywood. Our Lux Radio Theatre presentation of Front Page Woman has come to you with the good wishes of the makers of Lux Flakes, those fine, gentle-soaked flakes of the world's greatest actors, George Arlis in Cardinal Richelieu, with Florence Arlis, Caesar Romero, Heather Angel, Montague Love, and Douglas Dumbrill. This is Cecil B. DeMille, those fine, gentle-soaked flakes used in the wardrobe departments of all the leading studios here in Hollywood and by housewives everywhere. Join us again next week to be part of the large audience that gathers each Monday to enjoy an hour of dramatic entertainment and a chance to meet Hollywood and its famous people. This is your announcer Melville Rueck bidding you all good night on behalf of our guests, our cast, and the staff of Lux Radio Theatre. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.