 Lux presents Hollywood. The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Frank Craven, William Holden, Martha Scott, Faye Bainter, Bula Bondi, Thomas Mitchell, Guy Kibbe, and Stuart Irwin in our town. Our town is the famous Pulitzer Prize play which made stage history in New York and will soon be released as a motion picture, a stirring human drama of American life. But before turning the microphone over to our producer, may I remind you that tonight's play is presented by the makers of Lux Flakes, those gentle flakes that women everywhere are so enthusiastic about. These days they are more enthusiastic than ever because inside that familiar Lux box you all know so well is the wonderful new quick Lux, just as gentle as ever and so thrifty because a little goes so far and almost unbelievably fast. In water as cool as your hand, it's three times as fast and dissolving as any of ten other leading soaps tested. Get a big box tomorrow and enjoy the instant rich suds you get. There's such perfect care for stockings, under things, other nice things. For everything safe in plain water, new quick Lux is really wonderful. It's in the same familiar package and it doesn't cost you a cent more. And now, ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Many of us who live in big towns reserve a corner of our hearts for some small town. For the schoolhouse on the hill, the elms that line the streets, the sound of old familiar church bells on a Sunday morning. Wherever it is in Indiana, Idaho and New Hampshire, each one of us goes back to his hometown tonight as we listen to the play called Our Town. Most of us were feel right at home in our town because it contains at least part of everybody's story of growing up and falling in love and making a living and all the things that make up our own absorbing everyday drama. We may not think it's very dramatic when it happens to us, but perhaps that's why playwrights like Fountain Wilder were born. To show us the living breathing drama of our own everyday lives. And, well, maybe that's why our town won the Pulitzer Prize and why it's been on our schedule ever since the night I saw it on the stage. We have the same stars you'll see in Sol Lesser's screen production of Our Town, which United Artists will release in the next few weeks. A motion picture worthy of the play. You know it's really your loyalty to Lux Flakes that makes this theater possible with plays like Our Town. And Lux Flakes is right on the job in your own town every day. In fact, it's one of your most useful citizens. As for the leading citizens of Grover's Corners, the play in Our Town, there are Thomas Mitchell and Faye Bainter as Dr. and Mrs. Gibbs, Guy Kibbey and Bula Bondi as Mr. and Mrs. Webb, William Holden as George Gibbs and Martha Scott as Emily Webb, Stuart Irwin as Howie Newsom, Virginia Sayle as Mrs. Soames, and one you'll meet right away, Frank Craven as Newton Morgan. And now the curtain goes up on Act One of Our Town. Ladies and gentlemen, at this point in our program, it's been the usual thing for me to give the locale of our play and attempt to describe a few of the characters. Tonight, however, there's a man standing here beside me who's far better qualified than I am for this chore. After all, he's lived in Grover's Corners all his life, been the drugist there for the last 30 years, and knows every person in the town and every cobblestone on Main Street. Excuse me, Mr. DeMille, but we don't have cobblestones on Main Street anymore. Get away with that some years ago. My apologies, Mr. Morgan. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Newton Morgan. Will you take over here, Newton? Thank you. We'll do my best. Well, folks, for the better part of the next hour, just imagine you're in Grover's Corners, New Hampshire. It's just over the line from Massachusetts. Latitudes, 42 degrees, 40 minutes. Longitudes, 70 degrees, 37 minutes. Now right there is Main Street. Cutting across Main Street to the left is the railroad tracks. The Congregational Church is over there. Presbyterians across the street. The Catholic and the Unitarian are up on the next block. The Baptist Church is down on the holler by the river. Next to the post office is the Town Hall. Jails in the basement. Brian once made a speech right from those very steps. It's a nice town, know what I mean? Nobody very wonderful ever come out of it, so far as we know. First, we'll see a day in our town. Not as it is now in the year 1940, but as it used to be in the year 1901. The date is June 7th, 1901. It's just before dawn. Yeah, just about. The sky is already beginning to show some streaks of light in it over there in the east back of our mountain. The morning star gets wonderful bright the minute before it has to go. The only lights on in the town were in a cottage where a Polish mother's just had twins. And down in the depot where Shorty Hawkins is getting ready to flag the 545 for Boston. Yeah, there she is now. That's Howie Newsom's milk wagon coming down Main Street. And that man walking this way, that's Doc Gibbs. Coming home from that baby case I was telling you about. Right over there is Doc Gibbs' house. His neighbor across the fence is editor Webb. Webb publishes the Grover's Corner Sentinel. There's Mrs. Gibbs coming downstairs to get breakfast. Mrs. Webb's coming downstairs to get her breakfast too. They'll be coming out now to pick up the milk. Morning, Howie. Morning, Mrs. Gibbs. Seems like you're late today. Uh, something went wrong with separator. Don't know what to ask. See you tomorrow, Howie. Yes, ma'am. George. Morning, Mrs. Webb. Oh, morning, Mrs. Newsom. Ain't you late today? Uh, something went wrong with separator. Oh. Emily? Get along, Betsy. Get up. What's the matter with you? No use standing there. The Lockhearts have quit taking milk. Morning, Howie. Oh, morning, Doc Gibbs. Betsy's been acting up. Uh, she's all mixed up about the route ever since the Lockhearts next door stopped taking their quarter milk every day. She wants to leave McCord just the same. Keep scolding me the whole trip. Somebody sick, Doc? A pair of twins over Mrs. Gorlowski's. Twins, huh? This town's getting bigger every year. Well, morning, Doc. Morning, Howie. Everything all right, Frank? Yes. I declare easy as kittens. Children, hurry up. George, Rebecca. Sit down, drink your coffee. Catch a couple of hours of sleep this morning, can't you? Mrs. Wendworth's coming at 11. Her stomach ain't what it ought to be. George, Rebecca. I declare, Frank, you gotta speak to George. Seems like something's come over him lately. I can't even get him to cut me some wood. Is he sassy to you? Oh, no. Just whines. All he thinks about is that baseball. George, you'll be late for school. George, look sharp. Come on, Pa. Guess I'll go upstairs and take about 40 weeks. I washed an eye in the blue gingham for you, special. Oh, my, I hate that dress. Hard shop with you. You just wear that blue gingham and let that be the end of it. Well, that's what's going on at the Gibson's. Over at the web's place, it's just about the same story. Now, Wally. Emily, I won't have it. Breakfast just as good as any other meal, and I won't have you gobbling like wolves. Wally, put your book away. Oh, Ma, by 10 o'clock I gotta know all about Canada. You know the rules. Well, as I do, no books at table. As for me, I'd rather have my children healthy than bright. Well, I'm both, Mama. You know I am. I'm the brightest girl in school for my age. I have a wonderful memory. Eat your breakfast, Emily. That first bell will be ringing any second now. Yes, sir, and there she goes. First bell for school. Kids will all be racing now, looking under the bed for books and generally raising pretty much of a rumpus. But now we're gonna skip a few hours. I want you to come along down to the Sentinel office and meet the editor, Mr. Webb. Charlie Webb is the father of Wally and Emily. Emily is the smart girl with a good memory. Morning, Newton. Morning, folks. Friends, editor Webb will tell you something of the political and social side of our town. Editor Webb. Well, I don't have to tell you that we're run here by a board of select men. All males vote at the age of 21. Women vote indirect. Politically, we're 86% Republicans, 6% Democrats, 4% Socialists. Rest indifferent. Religiously, we're 85% Protestants, 12% Catholics. Rest indifferent. Mr. Webb, how do you spell Gora Slosky? Look in the birth notice file about this same time last year. Very ordinary town, if you ask me, but our young people here seem to like it well enough. A lot of them settle down right here to live, even after they've been away to college. Let's see, I guess that's about all. Now, is there anybody in the audience who'd like to ask Mr. Webb any questions about our town? Is there much drinking in Grover's quarters, Mr. Webb? Well, ma'am, I wouldn't know what you'd call much. Saturday nights, farmhands meet down Neller Greenhouse Stable in Hollersam. We got one or two town drunks, but they're always having remorse as every time an evangelist comes to town. No, ma'am, I'd say liquor ain't a regular thing in the home here, except in the medicine chest. Right good for snake bites, you know, always was. Is there no one in town aware of... social injustice and industrial inequality? Oh, yes, everybody is. Something terrible. Seems like they spend most of their time talking about who's rich and who's poor. Then why don't they do something about it? Well, I don't know. I guess we're all hunting like everybody else for a way that diligent and sensible can rise to the top and the lazy and qualsome sink to the bottom. But it ain't easy to find. Mr. Webb. Yes, ma'am? Mr. Webb, is there any culture or love of beauty in Grover's corners? Well, ma'am, there ain't much. Not in the sense you mean. There's some girls that play the piano over at the high school commencement, but they ain't happy about it. No, there ain't much culture. Robinson Crusoe and the Bible and Handel's Largo. We all know that. And Whistler's mother. Those are just about as far as we go. Mr. Webb. Well, I'm sorry, folks. I'm sorry, but we haven't time for any more questions. We must be getting on with the story. Well, it's getting along in the afternoon. All 2,642 residents of our town have had their dinners. All the dishes have been washed. There's an early afternoon calm about the town, but I guess that's over now because here come the kids from school again. There's George Gibbs walking along, and there's Emily Webb sort of watching them out of the corner of her eye. Hello, Emily. Hello. You made a fine speech in class, Emily. Well, I was really ready to make a speech on the Monroe Doctrine, but the last minute, Miss Foster made me talk about the Louisiana Purchase instead. I worked an awful long time on both of them. Well, it was fine. It was just fine. Nice of you to say so, anyway. Well, goodbye, George. Gee, it's funny, Emily. From my window up there, I can just see your headlights when you're doing your homework over in your room. Why can't you? You certainly do stick to it, Emily. I guess you must like school. Well, I always feel it's just something you have to go through. Yeah. Emily, um, what do you think? We might work out a kind of telegraph from your window to mine, and once in a while you could kind of give me a hint or two of one of those algebra problems. What, George Gibbs? Oh, I don't mean the answers, Emily. Of course not. I mean, just some little hint. Oh, I think hints are allowed, so if you get stuck, George, just whistle to me, and I'll give you some hints. Emily, you're just naturally bright, I guess. Well, I figure it's just the way a person's born. Yeah. Well, I better be getting out the baseball field. Thanks a lot for the talk, Emily. Bye. Goodbye. Is that you? Yes, Mama. What you doing? Nothing, Mama. Well, if you're doing nothing, you can come and help me with this yarn. Here, hold it for me. All right, Mama. Well, George Gibbs let himself have a real conversation, didn't he? He's grown up. How old would George be now? Well, I don't know. Let's see. He must be most 16. You're holding the yarn too tight, Emily. Mama, will you answer me a question serious? Of course I will. Mama, am I good-looking? Yes, of course you are. Both my children got good features. I'd be ashamed if they hadn't. Mama, that's not what I mean. What I mean is, am I pretty? I've already told you, yes. But, Mama, am I pretty enough to get anybody well to get people interested in me? Emily, you make me tired, now stop it. You're pretty enough for all normal purposes. Well, I guess that's about enough of that. We'll skip a couple of more hours now, which brings us right into the evening. You can hear the choir practice going on in that little white church down the street. The children at home doing their school work. The day is running down like a tired clock. Moon's out bright and full. And there's George up there in the window, leaning out and calling. Emily, Emily. Oh, hello. Hello. I can't work at all. The moonlight's so terrible. Emily, did you get the third problem? Which? The third. Well, yes, George. That's the easiest of them all. I don't see it. Well, Emily, can you give me a hint? Well, I'll tell you one thing. The answer is in yards. In yards? How do you mean? Square yards. Oh, and square yards. Yes, George, don't you see? Yeah. Square yards of wallpaper. Oh, I see. Square yards of wallpaper. Thanks a lot, Emily. You're welcome. My isn't the moonlight terrible. Yeah. Well, I guess I better get back now and try to work. Good night, Emily. Good night, George. Oh, George, can you come downstairs a minute? Yes, Pa. You want me, Pa? Make yourself comfortable, George. I'll keep you a minute. George, how old are you? Me? Well, I'm 16, almost 17. What do you want to do after school's over? Well, you know, Pa. I want to be a farmer on Uncle Luke's farm. And you'd be willing, would you, to get up early and milk and feed the stock? You'd be able to hoe and hay all day? Oh, sure I will. What do you mean, Pa? Well, George, when I was in my office today, I heard a funny sound. What do you think it was? It was your mother chopping wood. Hmm. Now, there you see, your mother. Getting up early, cooking meals all day long, washing and ironing. Still, she has to go out in the backyard and chop wood. I suppose she just got tired asking you. Yet you eat her meals, put on the clothes. She keeps nice for you. Then you run off and play baseball. It's like she was some hired girl. We keep around the house, but we don't like very much. I'm sorry, Pa. Well, I knew all I had to do was call your attention to it. Here's a handkerchief, son. Wonder what could have happened to your mother? Why, her practice never was as late as this before. It's only half past eight, Pa. I don't know what she's doing in that old choir anyway. She hasn't any more voice than an old crow. No nice choir practice, won't it? Mm-hmm. Look at that, Meryl. Potato weather for sure. Julia, Meryl, wait. I didn't want to say a word about it in front of those others, but now we're alone. Really, it's the worst scandal that ever was in this town. What, Loretta? Simon Stimpson. Now, Loretta. We all have a church drink and drunk year after year. Loretta? Julia, you know he was drunk tonight. Now, Loretta, we all know about Mr. Stimpson, and we all know about the troubles he's been through. But it's getting worse. No, it ain't, Loretta. It's getting better. It don't happen anywhere near so often as it used to. Oh, my. I hate to go to bed on a night like this. Well, good night, Loretta. Good night, Julia. Good night, Meryl. Can you get home safe, Loretta? Oh, it's his brightest day. Good night, Julia. Good night, Loretta. See you on Sunday. See you then. Who's that up there? Is that you, Emily? Yes, Papa. What are you doing? Just looking at the moon. Why aren't you in bed? I don't know. I just can't sleep yet, Papa. The moonlight's so wonderful. Hmm, yeah. Having any troubles on your mind, have you, Emily? Troubles, Papa. No. Well, don't let your mother catch you. Good night, Emily. Good night, Papa. Well, everybody's home. The day is over. I guess we'll call this the end of Act One. Act One might be called the daily life. In just a moment, we'll have Act Two of our town, which I guess comes under the heading of love and marriage. But if I remember rightly what Mr. DeMille told me, long about this time, Mr. Rueck, the radio announcer usually speaks a few words himself. Is this the right time, isn't it, Mr. Rueck? Just about, Mr. Morgan. Well, go right ahead then, son. Go ahead. Well, Sally here looks as if she wanted to say something first. What is it, Sally? Oh, I just want to look into the future for a moment, Mr. Rueck. What do you see there, Sally? Good news. A hundred years from now, there won't be any spring house cleaning. You don't say. Why not? Because everything in the house will be waterproof. You just hose down a room, press dough, it's clean. Very simple indeed. But it won't help women who are doing their spring house cleaning right now. Oh, but I know something that'll make things awfully easy for them. So do I. New quick luck. 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Right now, thousands of grocers are featuring luxe in their spring house cleaning sales. It's a grand time to stock up. Use New quick luxe for all your soap and water tasks to help keep your things new looking longer, to save your hands. Now, our producer, Mr. DeMille. We continue with our town. Starring William Holden and Martha Scott as George Gibbs and Emily Webb, Thomas Mitchell and Faye Bainter as Dr. and Mrs. Gibbs, Guy Kibbey and Bula Bundy as Mr. and Mrs. Webb, Stuart Irwin as Howie Newsom and Frank Craven as Newton Morgan. All set, Mr. Morgan? Ready and waiting. Now, go right ahead, son. Go right ahead. Well, folks, three years have gone by. The sun's come up in grover's corners over a thousand times. Some babies that weren't even born before have begun talking regular sentences already. And a number of people who thought they were right young and spry and noticed they can't bound up a flight of stairs like they used to without their hearts fluttering a little. All that can happen in a thousand days. Nature's been pushing and contriving in other ways, too. A number of young people fell in love and got married. Most everybody in the world gets married. You know what I mean? In our town, there aren't hardly any exceptions. Most everybody climbs into their grave married. And like I told you, that's what act two is about, love and marriage. So, it's three years later. It's July 7th, 1904, just after the high school commencement. That's the time most of our young people jump up and get married. Soon as they pass their final examinations in solid geometry and Cicero's orations, looks like they suddenly feel themselves fitted to get married. It's early morning again. Only this time it's been raining. There's the 545 for Boston. And there's Cycroll delivering the papers. And here comes Howie Newsman, Bessie, delivering the milk. Howie does one of those services we just naturally take for granted. Morning, Cy. Anything in the papers? I don't know. No, nothing much, except we're losing about the best baseball pitcher Grover's corners ever had. George Gibbs, huh? Yeah, I don't see how he could give up a thing like that just to get married. Would you have, Howie? Can't say. Never had no talent that way. All right, Bessie, come on. Let me tell you something, Bessie. I'm going to stop and talk if I've a mind to. Morning, Miss Gibbs. Morning, Howie. Too bad about the weather, but it's been raining so heavy that maybe it'll clear up. Certainly hope it will. My wife says to tell you, we hope they'll be happy. Know the will. Thanks a lot, Howie. Tell your wife I hope she gets to their wedding. Yeah, maybe she can. She'll get there if she can. Well, I hope she does. Morning, Miss Webb. Oh, morning, Mr. Newsom. Will it start raining again? Well, I was just saying to Miss Gibbs, it's hard to make clear off. Miss Newsom told me special to tell you how we hope to be happy, Miss Webb. Know the will. Thank you and thank Miss Newsom. And we're coming on seeing you at the church. Yes, Miss Webb, we hope to get there all right. Couldn't miss that. Come on, Bessie. Well, it seems pretty much like any ordinary morning so far, doesn't it? Of course not for the folks involved. There's Doc Gibbs coming downstairs now, making out like he's cheerful about the whole thing. Well, Ma, days come. You're losing one of your chicks. Frank Gibbs, don't you say another word. I feel like crying every minute. The groom's upshaving himself. Only there ain't an awful lot to shave. Whistling and singing like he's glad to leave us. Every now and then he says, I do to the mirror, but it don't sound convincing to me. I declare, Frank, I don't know how you'll get along. I've arranged his clothes and seen to it that his feet are dry. He's got warm things on. They're too young, Frank. Emily won't think of things like that. He'll catch his death a cold within a week. I remember my wedding morning, Julia. I don't stop that, Frank Gibbs. I was the scariest young fellow in the state of New Hampshire. When I saw you coming down that aisle, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. But the only trouble was I'd never seen you before. There I was in the congregational church marrying a total stranger. Well, how do you think I felt? Frank Wedden's a perfectly awful thing's farce. That's what they are. Here, I made something for you. What, Julia? French toast. It ain't hard to make, and I had to do something. I'll just sleep last night, Julia. Oh, I heard a lot of the hours stuck off. I get a shock every time I think of George setting out to be a family man. That great, gangling thing. I tell you, Julia, there's nothing in the world that Frank is a son. The relation of father and son is the dangest. Awkwardness. Well, mother and daughter's no picnic, let me tell you. Good morning, everybody. Only four more hours to live. Right back, ma'am. George Gibbs, where are you going? Just stepping across the grass to see my girl. Here, you take a cup of coffee first. Be back in a minute. Good morning, Mother Webb. Oh, morning, George. Now, George, I hate to say it, but you understand. I can't ask you in. Why not? Well, George, you know as well as I do, the groom can't see his bride on the wedding day. Oh, that's just a superstition. Hello, George. Morning, Mr. Webb. Coffee ready, Myrtle? Mr. Webb, you don't believe in that superstition, do you? Well, there's a lot of common sense in superstitions, George. Millions have followed at George, and don't you be the first to fly on the face of custom? You sit down here a minute with Mr. Webb and drink this cup of coffee. I'll run upstairs and see if she don't come down to surprise you. Well, George. Yes, Mr. Webb. How are you, George? I'm fine. Mr. Webb, what common sense could there be in a superstition like that? Well, George, on the wedding morning, a girl's head's full of, oh, you know, clothes, one thing and another. Girls have to be a mite nervous on their wedding day. Yeah. Gee, I wish a person could get married without all that marching up and down. Every man that's ever lived has felt that way, George, but it hasn't been many years. It's the women folks who built up weddings, my boy. All those good women standing there shoulder to shoulder making sure that the knot's tied in a mighty public way. Well, you believe in it, don't you, Mr. Webb? Oh, yes. Oh, yeah, yes. Now, don't misunderstand me, George. Marriage is a wonderful thing, a wonderful thing. Now, don't you forget that, George? No, sir. Well, uh... What were you going to say, Mr. Webb? Oh, was I going to say something? George, I was remembering the other night the advice my father gave me when I got married. Yes, he said. Charles, he said. Start right off showing who's boss. Best thing to do is to give an order about something, even if it don't make sense. Just so she'll learn to obey, he said. Then he said, if anything about her irritates you or conversation or anything, get right up and leave the house. That'll make it clear to her. And oh, yes, he said, never let your wife know how much money you have. Never. Oh, but I couldn't do that. The opposite of his advice, and I've been happy ever since. Let that be a lesson to you, never to ask advice of anybody on personal matters. George, Emily's got to come down and eat her breakfast. Now go along. But I... I miss Webb, I... She sent you her love, but you don't want to lay your eyes on you. Now goodbye, George. Well, goodbye. My Lord, I guess you don't know about that older superstition. What's that? Since the caveman, no bridegroom should see his father-in-law on the day of the wedding or near it. Now remember that. What, Charles Webb? Well, now right here I'll have to interrupt. I'm sure the folks want to know how all this began, this wedding, this plan to spend a lifetime together. Well, George and Emily are going to show you now the conversation they had when they first knew that, as the saying goes, they were meant for one another. But before they do that, folks, I want you to try and remember what it was like when you were very, very young, and particularly the days when you were first in love, when you were like a person sleepwalking. You didn't quite see the street you were walking in, and you didn't quite hear everything that was said to you. You were just a little bit crazy. Will you remember that, please? Now it all started last year in the way home from school. George had just been elected president of the senior class, and Emily had just been elected secretary and treasurer. Now you all know how important that is. Emily, can I carry your books home for you? Thank you. Hey, Bob, if I'm late, start practicing. Give her some long high ones. I'm awful glad you were elected too, Emily. Thank you. Emily, uh, why are you mad at me? Well, I'm not mad at you. Well, you've been treating me so funny lately. Well, since you asked me, I might as well say it right out, George. What is it? I don't like the whole change that's come over you this last year. Emily. I'm sorry if that hurt your feelings, but I just got to tell the truth and shame the devil. A change? What do you mean? Well, up to a year ago, I used to like you a lot, and I used to watch you while you did everything because you've been friends for so long, and then you began spending all your time at baseball, and George, it's a fact. Ever since you've been elected captain, you got all full stuck up and conceited, and all the girls say so. It hurts me to hear them say it, but I got to agree with them a little because it's true. Oh, well, gosh, Emily, I never thought that such a thing was happening to me. I guess it's hard for a fellow not to have some false creep into his character. I always expect a man to be perfect, and I think he should be. Yeah. Well, I feel it's the other way around that men aren't naturally good, but girls are. Well, you might as well know right now that I'm not perfect. It isn't as easy for a girl to be perfect as a man because, well, we girls are more nervous. Oh, now I'm sorry I said all that about you. I don't know what made me say it. Emily. No, I can see it's not the truth at all, and suddenly I feel it's not important anyway. Emily, would you like a ice cream soda or something before you go home? Well, thank you. I would. Well, come on, Emily. Go right in the drugstore. Good afternoon, George. Hello, Mr. Morgan. Hello, Emily. What do you have? Well, Emily, where have you been crying about? Oh, she got an awful scare, Mr. Morgan. That hardware store wagon almost ran over, and everybody says that Tom Huckins dies like a crazy man. I tell you, you've got to look both ways before you cross Main Street these days. It gets worse every year. What do you have? I'll have a strawberry phosphate, Mr. Morgan. Oh, no, Emily. Have a soda with me. Well, I... Two strawberry ice cream sodas, Mr. Morgan. Two strawberry ice cream sodas, yes, sir. Yes, sir, I want to tell you something. There are 275 horses in Grover's Corners this very minute I'm talking to you. Now they're bringing in these automobiles. The best thing to do, I guess, is to stay home. Gracious, I can remember the time when a dog would lie in the middle of the street all day long, and nothing ever come along to disturb him. Hey, up. Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Ellis. What can I do for you? Sodas, they're so expensive, George. Oh, no, Emily, don't think of that. Emily, I'm glad you spoke to me like you did, but you'll see, I'm going to change so quick, you better I'm going to change. And, Emily, I want to ask you a favor. What? Emily, if I go away to State Agricultural College next year, will you write me a letter once in a while? I certainly will. I certainly will, George. It certainly seems like being away three years, you'd get out of touch with things. Maybe letters from Grover's Corners won't seem so interesting after a while. Grover's Corners isn't a very important place when you think of all New Hampshire, but I think it's a very nice town. Mm-hmm. You know, Emily, whenever I meet a farmer, I ask him if he thinks it's important to go to a cultural school to be a good farmer. What, George? Yeah, and some of them say it's even a waste of time, and you can get all that stuff anyway, and the pamphlets the government sends out. Emily, I'm going to make up my mind right now. I won't go. I'll tell Pa about it tonight. But, George, I don't see why you have to decide right now. It's a whole year away. Emily, I'm glad you spoke to me about that fault in my character. Oh. What you said was right, but there was one thing wrong in it. That's where you said I wasn't noticing people. You, for instance, you say you were watching me when I did everything. I was doing the same thing about you all the time. Why, George? Well, sure, I always thought about you. Like one of the chief people I thought about. Oh, George, life's awful funny. How could I have known that? I thought... Listen, Emily, I'm going to tell you why I'm not going to agricultural school. I think that once you've found a person that you're very fond of, I mean a person who's fond of you, too, and, well, who likes you well enough to be interested in your character, I think that's just as important as college is, and even more so. That's what I think. I think it's awfully important, too. Emily... Yes, George? Emily, if I do improve and make a big change, well, would you be... Who I am now? I always have been. Gee. Well... Well, I guess it's a pretty important talk we've been having. Yes. I guess it is. Well, folks, that's the way it all happened. But that was a year ago, though. Right now, we're more concerned with the wedding that takes place today. There's a lot of things to be said about a wedding. We can't get them all into one wedding naturally, especially not a wedding in Grover's Corners where weddings are mighty short and plain. So here we are at the church now. People think a lot of thoughts during a wedding, the bride and the groom, the relatives and the guests. Here's what Mrs. Webb is thinking while she waits for the wedding march to start. I don't know why on earth I should be crying. I suppose there's nothing to cry about. This morning at breakfast it just come over me. There was Emily eating her breakfast which she's done for 17 years. And she's going out of my house. I suppose that's it. Now let's see how our prospective bride and groom are standing the suspense of waiting. There's George over there in the church anti-room. He's looking mighty worried right now. George? George, what's the matter? Ma, I don't want to grow old. You're pushing me so. George, you wanted it. No, Ma, listen to me. No, no, George, you're a man now. Listen, Ma. But the last time I ask you, all I want to do is be a fellow. George, if anyone should hear you, now stop while I'm ashamed of you. What? Where's Emily? Oh, George, you gave me such a turn. Oh, cheer up, Ma. I'm getting married. Well, let me catch my breath a minute. Well, Ma, you look all funny. What are you crying for? Come on, we got to get ready for this. I never felt so alone in my whole life. Why, Emily? George, over there, oh, I hate him. I wish I were dead. Papa, Papa. Emily, now, don't get upset. But, Papa, darling, I don't want to get married. Shh. Emily, everything's all right. Why can't I stay for a while just as I am? Let's go away, Papa. Oh, no, Emily, now stop and think just a minute. Don't you remember what you used to say all the time that I was your girl? There must be lots of places we can go to. I'd work for you. I'd keep a house for you. Shh. You mustn't think of such things. You're just nervous. George? Will you come over here a minute? Well, you're a man, the best young fella in the world. Yes, Mr. Webb. Now, come here, son. George, I'm giving away my daughter. You think you can take care of her? Mr. Webb, I want to... I want to try. Emily, I'm going to do my best. I love you, Emily. I need you. Well, if you love me, help me. All I want is someone to love me. Oh, I will, Emily. Emily, I'll try. And I mean forever, do you hear? Forever and ever and ever. Oh, Emily. It'll be all right now. Come on, kids. I'm ready. Oh, Mr. Morgan, isn't it a lovely wedding? I guess it is, Mrs. Holmes. No, no, when I've seen such a lovely wedding. But I always cry. I don't know why it is, but I always cry. I just like to see young people happy. I'm sure they'll be happy. I always say happiness. That's the great thing. The important thing is to be happy. Well, that's all the second act, folks. In act three, life moves on considerable and things get rather... Well, let's wait and see. Ladies and gentlemen, before we go on with the third act of our town, let's see how good you are at recognizing music. I'm going to ask Blue Silvers to play three tunes. Now, suppose you listen and see if you can guess what they are. All right, Lou, give us the first one. You know that tune? Well, here's the second. And now the third. Do you know what those three tunes are? Sally, you tell us and let your audience check their answers. They were, I kiss your hand, Madame, hands across the table, and pale hands I loved. That's the Kashmiri song. Yes, and that's just a sample of how often beautiful hands are the subject of poetry and song. Now, every man admires beautiful hands. Every woman wants to have them. Yet often, if she washes dishes day after day, she finds her hands growing rough and red and unattractive. That's such a pity, Mr. Ruick, because it can be avoided. Yes. Now, we wanted to prove how easily you can keep hands lovely in spite of dishwashing. So we asked hundreds of women to test five different soaps frequently used for dishes. They dipped one hand in luck suds and the other hand in suds from another soap. They did this for 20 minutes three times a day for weeks under conditions similar to home dishwashing, and the results were amazing. Here's what the scientists, making the test, reported. These tests proved luck's milder than any of the other soaps tested. And the women who took the test agree. For example, Mrs. Edna Wright of New York told us, After doing the one hand test for 27 days, my luck's hand was still smooth and lovely looking, though I'd used no creams or lotions. My other hand was rough and red and looked horrid. The difference was striking. So many women find new quick luck's kinder to hands. Now won't you try it in your dish pan? You want your hands to look nice, I'm sure. Well, it's amazing how speedy, effective, and gentle new quick luck's is, and at such a tiny cost. So just put luck's on your grocery list tomorrow. New quick luck's is in the same familiar package at no extra cost to you. Well, folks, the next time we look in on Grover's Corners... Excuse me, Newton. Excuse me. We're not quite ready to go ahead yet. Am I interrupting something? It's just a little ritual we call the station break. It only takes 20 seconds. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Twenty seconds on the dot, Mr. DeMille. The microphone is yours, Newton. Well, now that we all know what station we're listening to, we can take another look at Grover's Corners. This time, nine years have gone by, friends. It's the summer of 1913. Summers and winters have cracked the mountains a little bit more, and the rains have brought down some of the dirt. And now we're going way up there on the top of that hill. This is certainly an important part of Grover's Corners, up here in this hilltop. Lots of sky, lots of clouds, often lots of sun and moon and stars. Yes, it's a beautiful spot up here. I often wonder why people want to be buried in Woodlawn and Brooklyn when they might pass the same time up here in New Hampshire. Over here are the old stones. 1670, 1680. Strong-minded people who come along ways to be independent. And here are some Civil War veterans. Iron flags on their graves. New Hampshire boys. They had a notion that the Union ought to be kept together, although they'd never seen more than 50 miles of it themselves. All they knew was their name, friends. The United States of America. The United States of America. And they went and died about it. This over here is the new part of the cemetery. There's your friend Mrs. Gibbs. Here, Doc Gibbs lost his wife two or three years ago, just about this time. And there's Mrs. Soames, who enjoyed the wedding so much, remember? An editor-websboy Wallace, who was appendix burst while he was on a boy scout trip to Crawford Notch. Ah, yes, and lots of others. Yes, a lot of people just wild with grief have brought their relatives up to this hill, and then time and sunny days and rainy days and snow. Well, they all know how it is. A lot of thoughts come up here night and day, but there's no post office. And a lot of sorrow kind of gets quieter down up here, too. Yes, all those important things, children, daughter, husband and wife, enemy and enemy, money and miser, all those terribly important things kind of grow pale around here, too. All those things. The earth part sort of burns away, burns out. I guess I'm thinking about all these things today because of our friend Emily. Another baby's expected down at that happy home we saw started. It's Emily's second. There's a little boy about six years old, but this time Emily's pretty sick. It's all right, Emily. Now, you just try to sleep a while if you can. I'll be here all the time. Am I going to die, Emily? Now, what kind of talk is that? Of course you're not going to die. You stop thinking like that, Emily. I can't help it. There's just something keeps telling me all the time. You're going to die. No, no, no. That'll be enough of that, Emily. Just about enough. Thank you, Emily. I got the medicine, doctor. How is she now? She's bad, very bad. But I think she'll pull through. There's nothing you can do, nothing anyone can do, put you up there on the hill. Up there where Wally is, Mrs. Gibbs or Mrs. Soap. They're dead, too. You'll be with them. You're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die. It's a strange sort of thing, that sometimes comes to a woman at a time like this. Just knows she's going to die. No doubt of it in her mind at all. She knows. Often enough, she's wrong. But she feels mighty certain, just the same. Must be a reason for that. Well, dying is a right and natural thing. Just another part of life like being born. Maybe that's what does it. Maybe the new life that's coming into the world can't sometimes find its way unless something dies first. At least steps over the line into the great beyond and then returns to take up life and duty again. So perhaps in a queer sort of way, a mother does die just for a moment. Perhaps that veil between the quick and the dead is lifted for a second, and she can see for a little while into that misty land beyond. Who's to say it can't be? I suppose only the dead would really know. They'd see the mother coming through the mist, her face all white and shining. Maybe just a little scared at first and strange. Then they'd see her appearing into the beyond and then something, something important, some great need would pull her back, pull her back into the world, back to life again into duty. The duty of tending the new life just born into the world. You know, coming up the hill to us? Yes. Yes, it is. Who is it, Julia? Who's coming to join us? My daughter-in-law, Emily Webb. What is it? Trouble bringing a baby into the world. Well, I remember Emily's wedding. I went to it before I died. Wasn't it a lovely wedding? I remember I called on George and Emily at their farm too before I died. Dear friends, as we gather here in the last tribute of memory to our loved one, let us remember the words of the master. I am the resurrection and the life. Hello, Mother Gibbs. Hello, Emily. Hello, Emily. Hello, Mrs. Zone. Hello, Sis. Hello, Wally. Mother Gibbs, they're going away. Down the hill again. Yes, Emily, dear. Just rest yourself. Father Gibbs is bringing some of my flowers to you, Mother Gibbs. Oh, Mother Gibbs, I never realized before how troubled and sad he looks. I loved him so. Father Gibbs, come back. He can't hear you, dear. He's gone now. Oh, I'm so tired, Mother Gibbs. Yes, Emily. Just rest yourself. It seems thousands and thousands of years since I don't like being here. Yes, yes, Emily. I know. Mother Gibbs, when does this feeling go away? Of being strange here. How long does it... Just wait and be patient. It's clearing off. The sun's breaking through. Looks like the leaves will fall a little earlier this year. Mother Gibbs, George and I have made that farm into just the best place you ever saw. Did you, dear? Won't be the same to George without me. But it's a lovely farm. A little cooler than it was. Yeah? That rain's cooled it off a little. But, Mother Gibbs, one can go back in memory and live each of those days over again. What just then, for a moment, I was thinking about the farm and for a moment I was there and my baby was on my lap as plain as day? Yes, but when you've been here longer, you'll understand that our life here is to forget all that and think only of what is ahead and be ready for what is ahead. Oh, but, Mother Gibbs, how can I ever forget that life? It's all I know. It's all I had. One can go back there again and live all those days over again. I feel it. I know it. You'll not only live it, but you'll watch yourself living it. I'll choose a happy day. Oh, Emily, it isn't wise. Really, it isn't. I'll choose the day I first knew I loved George. Oh, why should that be painful? Because it's the happiest days that are the hardest to relive and the hardest to forget. But I must. I must. Then, Emily, choose an unimportant day. Choose the least important day in your life. It will be important enough. Then I'll choose. I'll choose my birthday. The day I was 14. I remember. I remember it all. There's Mother in the kitchen. She called me. Emily? Emily? Wally? Good morning, Mother. Sit down, Charles. Coffee's ready. Don't forget it's Emily's birthday. Did you remember to get her something? Yes, I've got something here. Where's my girl? Where's my birthday girl? Don't interrupt her now, Charles. You can see her at breakfast. She's slow enough as it is. Oh, they're so young and have to get old. Emily? Wally? Mama, I'm here. Children, 7 o'clock. I don't want to have to call you again. Mama, listen. Good morning, dear. Very happy birthday to my girl. And many happy returns. There are some surprises waiting for you there on the kitchen table. Mama, don't you understand? I'm not a little girl anymore. Morning, George. Good morning. I brought this over for your birthday, Emily. Many happy returns of the day. George? It's only a photograph album. Nothing much. Say thank you, dear. Oh, it's just an album. I'm going over to Uncle Luke's farm today. I like it there. George, we grew up and we're married, don't you remember? Uncle Luke gave you the farm. Well, goodbye, Emily. Goodbye, Ms. Webb. Goodbye, George. Chew that bacon good and slow, Emily. It'll help keep you warm on a cold day. Mama, just look at me for one minute as though you really saw me. 10 below last night. Mama, 12 years have gone by. I'm dead. I'm married, George Gibbs, Mama. Wally's dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a caming through to Crawford Notch. We felt just terrible about it, don't you remember? For a moment now we're all together. Mama, let's be happy just for a moment. Where's my girl? Where's my birthday girl? I can't. I can't go home. We don't have time to look at one enough. I didn't realize. So all that was going on. And we never noticed. Must I go back to my grave? Wait. One more look. Goodbye. Goodbye, world. Goodbye, Grovis Corners, Mama and Papa. Goodbye to clocks ticking. My butternut tree and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee and new iron dresses and hot baths and sleeping and waking up. Oh Earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute. You'll be coming back now. Back to life again. That split second of eternity is slipping away. A dream? Maybe so. But that new life is here now. Got into the world just fine. It'll be needing its mother, so Emily's coming back. Hush, Emily dear. Of course you want to live. You're going to live. You're going to be fine, Emily. Now hush, dear. They were here. All of them. They came to my grave. Emily, Emily dear, wake up. Come out of it. You've had a bad dream. That's all. You're all right now. Father Gibbs, I thought I dreamed. Oh, Father Gibbs is it all over. All over. You have another boy, Emily, a fine son. A son? Can I see him? It's getting late now. Most everybody's asleep in Grovis Corners. Oh, there are a few lights on. Shorty Hawkins down at the depot has just watched the Albany train go by. And out at Emily and George's farm, they're still up. Talking over the new baby, I suppose. Here, it's clearing up. There are the stars doing their old crisscross in the skies. Scholars haven't settled them yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings up there. It's just chalk or fire. Only this one, the earth, is straining away. Straining away all the time trying to make something of itself. The strain's so great that every 16 hours everybody's got to lie down, take a rest, 11 o'clock in Grovis Corners. Everybody's resting in Grovis Corners. Tomorrow's going to be another day. This is the season for census taking. And as our stars return for their curtain call, I think we might take a brief census of the places which they themselves call our town. Mr. Craven, suppose you'll begin. Well, like the card in the baked bean, Mr. DeMille, I belong to Boston. Hey, Betty, you're next. Well, I was born in a suburb of Hollywood called Los Angeles. We've spanned the country already, Miss Scott. Jamesport, Missouri. That's just outside of G's Creek. Gee, well, uh, they'll hold it. Oh, Palin, Illinois. Miss Bounty, how about another vote for the Middle West? All right, Val Frasio, Indiana. It's about the size of our town. Mr. Kibbey, I presume that wherever you were born, you made sure there was good fishing nearby. No, I'll pass the Texas. The fishing wasn't good there, so I came here. Ha, ha, ha. Stuart Irwin. Squall Valley, California. That's up in Fresno County. Where's, uh, where's your town, CB? Washington, North Carolina, Pompton, New Jersey, and Echo Lake. All of which goes to prove that it takes a good many hour towns to make up the town called Hollywood, and to make up the cast which gave the sincere performance you heard tonight. Well, it's a sort of spokesman for all the folks in Grover's Corner. Thanks, Mr. DeMille. What's your play going to be next week? Next Monday night, we'll have Loretta Young and Fred McMurray. In true confession, adapted from Paramount's comedy success, Loretta is the young wife whose tendency to stray from the truth into the realm of tall stories keeps her husband in hot water. But Fred McMurray, as the husband, has his own remedy for keeping romance on the level. And if you're holding back any secrets, I strongly recommend that you listen next Monday night to true confession with Loretta Young and Fred McMurray. That's a great lineup for any theater, Mr. DeMille. Good night. Good night. Good night. The town is proud of all of you. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theater presents Loretta Young and Fred McMurray in true confession with Ruth Donnelly. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Bollywood. Heard in tonight's play when Lou Merrill is Dr. Ferguson, Barbara Jean Wong is Rebecca Gibbs, Bobby Winkler as Bolly Webb, James Eagles as Bob, Sidney Newman as Si and Blaine Thompson, Walter White and Mary Lansing. The Lux Radio Theater has just been selected as the best dramatic program on the air by the readers of Moody and Radio Guide in the magazine's annual Star of Stars poll. On behalf of the sponsor and the staff of the Lux Radio Theater, we wish to thank all who participated in this poll. Sal Lesser's screen production of Our Town will have its premiere in Boston May 23rd and will be released nationally shortly after. Frank Craven is now working in the RKO picture Dreaming Out Loud. Martha Scott will soon be seen in the Frank Lloyd production Howards of Virginia. Thomas Mitchell appeared through the courtesy of John Ford's Argosy production of The Long Voyage Home by Eugene O'Neill. William Holden is now working in the Columbia picture, Arizona in Bula Bondi in Old Lady 31 at MGM. Our music was directed by Louis Silvers and your announcer has been Melville Rooick. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.