 Starring Eve Orton, like many other single young women, our Miss Brooks, who teaches English at Madison High School, has often dreamed of having someone with whom to share a home as well as her joys and sorrows. Sometimes, though, the realization doesn't quite seem like the dream. How true that is. Although I now have someone with whom to share a home as well as my joys and sorrows, the person in my dream is built much differently than my landlady, Mrs. Davis. But she's a sweet old soul, and she'll just have to do until someone tall, dark, and Mr. Boynton comes along. Last Thursday at breakfast, I had reason to feel that I might become a permanent tenant. But before I could air my complaints, Mrs. Davis mentioned something that was on her mind. Wasn't that a terrible storm last night, Connie? I hardly slept a wink. Me, the Mrs. Davis, in fact, I was soaked to the skin. Oh, that's too bad, dear. Why didn't you carry an umbrella with you? I don't know. I'm eccentric, I guess. I haven't taken an umbrella to bed with me in years. With you? Your room is right under the leak in our roof, isn't it? Frankly, dear, I intended covering that roof with the rent money you owe me. Wouldn't the rain soak right through it? Oh, you mean you could get the roof repaired if I pay what I owe? Exactly. With your five weeks back rent, I can get the entire roof done over. Oh, but I haven't got that much, Mrs. Davis. Well, how much can you afford? Enough for a cheap sponge. Couldn't we discuss the rent after I've finished this oatmeal? Frankly, I'm in something of a mess again. Well, it's your own fault, dear. You should sit closer to the table when you eat. No, that's not what I had in mind. It's got to do with Mr. Conklin. Our beloved principal is seriously considering discontinuing football at Madison. Really? And since when have you been so vitally interested in football? Why, Mrs. Davis, how could I fail to be vitally interested in the sport that teaches young men sportsmanship, builds their competitive spirit, demonstrates the value of cooperative effort? Oh, of course. You go to the game every Saturday with Mr. Boynton. That covers it very neatly. Why is Mr. Conklin thinking of canceling football? Because of a few minor injuries that some finicky parents have complained about. It all came to a head last Saturday. In the game with Oakhurst, our quarterback was tripped and suffered a sprained ankle. Then there were four bloody noses on our team. Four bloody noses? How did that happen? In the fight over the sprained ankle. Well, I'd better get ready to leave now. Mr. Boynton's picking me up this morning instead of Walter Denton. Oh, come on, Connie. Mr. Boynton's got a brand new used car to try out today. If he likes it, the dealer says he'll give him a goodbye on it. Well, that's an interesting development. If he does buy it, you may have a brand new chauffeur to drive you to school every day. Not so loud, Mrs. Davis. You'll put the whammy on it. Well, Miss Brooks, how do you like her? Fine, Mr. Boynton. That's a very nice car. Of course, it isn't the most flashy automobile in the world, but tell the truth. Have you ever heard a motor like this one? Not since I was a child. But I'm sure it'll be perfect transportation, and after all, that's what you need. Why, Mr. Boynton. What's the matter, Miss Brooks? Oh, one of the springs came through the upholstery right next to it. It was the shortest daydream I've ever had. I'll shove this spring back down. Springs came up under me. Press on my shoulders, will you, Miss Brooks? Oh, with pleasure. There you go, Mr. Boynton. How's that? Oh, fine. What do you think of Mr. Conklin's attitude toward football this season? Oh, I think it's deplorable, making all that fuss over a few slight bruises. According to Walter Denton, Mr. Conklin says if there's one more injury to a football player, he's canceling the sport for the remainder of the year. Just think what that would mean to the kids on the team, not to mention the student body. Not to mention the teachers. I don't know what I'd do with my Saturdays if there weren't any football games. Me either. Oh, Miss Brooks. Yes, Mr. Boynton? You can take your arms off my shoulders now. I'm down. Oh, that's where I left them. My lap felt so light. Like a hot potato. That is, he's finding a place to park. Oh, I'm waiting for my love boat, too. Walter Denton? Yes. He sailed into Daddy's office about 30 seconds ago. Then you should only have about 30 to wait until he comes sailing out. Oh, I think Daddy'll give him a break this morning. The storm raised half the roof off our house last night, and Daddy called Walter and had him bring over some of the kids in shop class to begin repairing it. But Harriet, wouldn't the authorities frown on your father drafting student labor to fix his personal property? Who'd tell on him? I withdraw the question. What's Walter doing in his office now? He's trying to talk Daddy into changing his mind about canceling football. As manager of the team, Walter's got a lot at stake. He's not the only one. I wish I knew how he was doing in there. That's my final decision, Denton. Now get out and sail! Walter, you tried your best. What did Mr. Conklin say before you parted company, Walter? It's not fit for ladies' ears. You mean the edict, Sam? Yes, of yesterday at 3 o'clock. If any player's injured on the football field, from that time forward, the sport is discontinued. Well, cheer up, Walter. Maybe there won't be any more injuries. That's right. Why look on the gloomy side of things? After all, wait a minute. Isn't that Madison's star fullback stretched not grass limping tortoise? Limping tortoise? Limping tortoise? Motion carried, he's limping tortoise. Say, he's badly hurt. He looks like he's in pain. Oh, just don't be ridiculous, Miss Brooks. That's just an expression he wears because he's not overly bright. Hi, Stretch. What's the matter with you? Hi, Harriet. I think I tore a lingamon. A lingamon? That's right, Miss Brooks. It's either a lingamon or a tendonton. It isn't causing you too much pain. How did it happen? And when? This morning at early football practice. That does it. Tear down the grandstand. Well, just a minute. Are you sure you've hurt your leg badly, Stretch? Well, look at my ankle. Under the bandage, it's twice the size it usually is. I ought to go home and rest this foot if I'm going to play any more ball this month. But, Stretch, if Daddy hears about this, nobody will play any more ball any month. I don't understand. As your English teacher, Stretch, perhaps I can clarify Harriet's statement for you. What she meant was that if Mr. Conklin hears about your injury, nobody will play no more ball, no month, no home. It's to keep Stretch's snodgrass hidden all morning. And by noon, the board of strategy hit upon a plan that we hoped would keep our beloved principal from enforcing his ban on football, even if he did discover Stretch's injury. The plan started when I delivered his lunch tray to Mr. Conklin. When he saw me standing before him in his office, his reaction was immediate. Ah, say. If it'll put your mind at ease, I'll taste everything first. All I want. All you want is to apply a thin coating of oil to me before making some outlandish request or other. I've had this treatment from you too often in the past, Miss Brooks, not to recognize it when it starts. A bit, sir. I saw that lame-brained dentin' mooning around this morning, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he had prevailed upon you to ask me to reconsider my edict to banish football in the event of another injury. Wouldn't you be even a little surprised? I mean, you shouldn't get upset, Mr. Conklin. How can I help getting upset? Nobody understands my position. When a boy is injured playing football, who gets to blame? The opposing team? No. No. Do they blame the coach? No. No. They blame one person and one person only. You. And you know who that person is? You. I'll tell you who it is, Miss Brooks. You. It's me, that's who it is. Pounding your desk like that. Pie, I brought you. It's deep dish apple pie, Mr. Conklin. Go ahead, eat it right now. Don't tell me to stop pounding my desk. I'll pound it as much. With your stand in this matter. You mean you concur in my opinion that football should be abolished after the next accident? Even before. What do you care what some people say your real motives are? Well, I'm glad you agree that it's what some people say my real motives are. Who impugned my motives, Miss Brooks? Oh, please, sir. Surely a gentleman like yourself wouldn't take stock in any remarks that a rival principle like Jason Brill might make. Jason Brill? What did he say? Nice meeting, Mr. Conklin. It was something about your cancelling football, not because of injuries, but because you were afraid of the beating Madison would take from his clay city boys. So that's what he thinks. Is that all he said, Miss Brooks? Well, frankly, sir, I didn't want to stand around after he referred to you as a scared rabbit. Brill referred to me as a scared rabbit? Well, no, those weren't his exact words, Miss Conklin. But due to your high-strung temperament, I thought it best to substitute scared rabbit for a lily-livered lout. I'm afraid to write now that Madison High can field 11 battered substitutes and make his clay city oves look like Miss Brooks just when did you encounter Mr. Brill? When? Oh, we met last night on our way out of the movies. That's why the conversation was so fresh in my memory. Last night? Well, now I know you had an ulterior purpose in coming into my office. It just so happens, Miss Butinsky, that Jason Brill and I spent all of last evening at a special meeting called by the board. It was a great fight, Mom. I'll be home early. Can I talk to you for a minute before you go into your class? Certainly, Walter. Well, Conklin. Well, I wouldn't call it eminently satisfactory, Walter. Oh, what would you call it? A flop. He spent last night at the board meeting with Mr. Brill, so the story backfired. We're on borrowed time, Walter. Even if he doesn't find out about the injury today, he'll hear about it from Stretch's mother tomorrow. Yeah, it looks pretty hopeless. Oh, gosh, if only Stretch didn't get himself clobbered on the football field. Now, that's what Mr. Conklin's making such a big stink. Oh, wait a minute, Walter. You've just given me an idea. If Stretch had an accident, just a teeny one, mind you, say, in a car, Mr. Conklin couldn't blame it on football at all. Well, you mean we tell Stretch to keep his mouth shut, and then we take him home this afternoon, and on the way we fake a crash, and he limps out of it with a sprained ankle? Walter, you're a natural born conspirator. Thanks. Want to use my car? No, that might make Mr. Conklin suspicious. I'll get the keys to the car Mr. Boynton's trying out. That looks like it's been in an accident already. I often tell Mr. Boynton why we want it, as a teacher, his code of ethics wouldn't permit him to join in such a plot. Oh, what about you, your teacher? Yeah. I'll see you in the parking lot right after school. You're getting back, Stretch, old boy. Here, let me give you a hand. Thanks, Walter. Adjust a minute, Stretch. Roll your trouser leg down over that bandage. We don't want anybody to see your hurt before we take you home. Yeah, I'll do it. Ah, there we are. Now, in you go. OK. Yeah, I'll sit back with you, pal. Now, let's go, Miss Brooks. Now, before we do, Walter, have you explained the details of our little plan to Stretch? Oh, well, there wasn't much time after our last class, Miss Brooks, so I just gave him a sort of a cursory briefing. I see. What did Walter tell you, Stretch? Well, it's like he says, Miss Brooks. He just cursed me briefly. It doesn't matter as long as we get you home without anybody to be continued. Hello, Mr. Conklin. Miss Brooks, are you about to drive somewhere? Drive? Yes, sir. I was about to give Walter and Stretch a ride home. But doesn't Walter drive his own car? Yes, but I let it to a friend. I mean, he let it to a friend. Well, there's any way. Well, they're just giving me a lift home, Mr. Conklin. I see. Why aren't you on the field practicing snout grass? You're Madison's best fullback, aren't you? Oh, he's a little over-trained, Mr. Conklin. The coach thought he ought to let up for a few days. But besides, Stretch's father owns a pet shop, you know, and he needs his help very badly today. Oh, yes, sir. Now, he'll excuse us, Mr. Conklin. Not so fast, young woman. I was about to suggest that since my wife and daughter are using our car for some shopping today, I would like to ride along home with you. Oh, with us? Oh, but, Mr. Conklin, you'd be very uncomfortable jammed in here with us. Well, this is a six-passenger car, Miss Brooks, and I can only count three heads in it so far. Are you sure you've counted all of Stretch's? I mean, there's no use in our sitting on top of each other. What do you mean on top of each other? I'll sit in front with you, Miss Brooks, and the boys can remain where they are. But, sir. After you, Miss Brooks. There you are. Thank you, Mr. Conklin. Yes, it was, isn't it? Oh, dear, I'm supposed to turn here. Oh, don't worry, Miss Conklin. I'll make it next time. Because I'm not used to this car. Let's see now, I'd better pull over to the side and test the emergency brake. All ready and back? All set, Miss Brooks. What are you doing? Watch out for that hydrant, Miss Brooks. Right, Walter. Tell me, where did it get you, Stretch? It was your leg, wasn't it? Yeah, my leg. Yeah, well, try to walk on it. Let's see if it'll support you. What's going on here, everybody? Oh, I'm limping. Look at me. Yeah, look at him. I think I pulled a tendon. My right one. I can hardly walk on it. Oh, but this is absurd. You couldn't possibly have hurt your leg in such a slight collision. Oh, I couldn't, huh? Just a minute, Mr. Conklin. There. I'm sorry, I sprained his ankle in football practice this morning. And since my edict was issued yesterday afternoon, football is here by a ballist at Madison High School. But, Mr. Conklin, you don't know that he hurt his ankle in practice. It could have happened anywhere. Why, it even could have happened when Stretch fell off your roof while helping repair it this morning. What do you mean could have happened? That's exactly how Stretch did sprain his ankle. He did? What's this? What's this? What's this? It's a sound. It's a sound, isn't it, Walter? It's a sound, isn't it, Walter? It's a sound. It's like this, Your Honor. What the board doesn't know won't hurt them. What if they find out? And who may I ask would tell them? Mr. Conklin were to admit that he made a mistake with his football ban. We'd forget the whole thing, wouldn't we, Pellis? Walter, you're the editor of the Madison Monitor, right? Right. Oh, I can see the headline now. Star Fullback. And how about the subhead? Eyewitnesses claim youth was tripped by Prexy. Anybody can make a mistake. Perhaps I was a bit hasty. Football is hereby restored to Madison High School. Oh, it's hot dog. Miss Brooks, you've done it again. Oh, please, Stretch, I did it again. I've got to reciprocate. I'm going to get the shop class to repair the roof over your room tomorrow. Oh, that's very kind of you, Walter. But at lunch today, Mr. Boynton promised he'd work on it tonight. You see, it's worn down pretty thin, and it's quite shaky. Oh, you mean there's danger Mr. Boynton falling right through? Well, I can't be positive, but let's keep our fingers crossed. Later that night, much to my surprise, Mr. Boynton actually went to work on the roof. And as he repaired it, I sat up there with him and told him the entire story of how we had fooled Mr. Conklin that afternoon. Yes, that is quite a story, Miss Brooks. When all seemed lost, Walter thought up the idea that Stretch heard his ankle falling off Mr. Conklin's roof, huh? Right. And then I told him it's against the board rules to conscript student labor for a private enterprise off-school property. Now, you understand? Yes, it certainly explains everything. Well, don't feel too bad, Mr. Boynton. This has been one of the nicest evenings we've ever spent on Mr. Conklin's roof. Mr. Brooks, starring E. Barton, was produced and directed by Larry Byrne, written by Al Lewis and Arthur Allsberg with the music of Wilbur Hatt. Mr. Conklin was played by Gail Gorton. Others in tonight's cast were Jane Morgan, Dick Crenna, Bob Rockwell, Gloria McMillan, and Leonard Smith. The facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.