 Obsession. It is a strange paradox that oftentimes man becomes lost in a wilderness within the surge of teeming humanity. To be alone in a crowd is the greatest sorrow ever devised in heaven or hell. To be lost in a jungle or upon the great tundras is understandable and excusable. And there is always Polaris to lead one to the true north. But to be wandering in a people maze with a lonely mind is to be hopelessly enmeshed within a web designed by the spider which lays in wait for Barry Sullivan. In our story, faith is the evidence. A deadly spider known as obsession. So the small midwestern town, a train approached the railroad yard fast coming in with stack steaming. It wasn't a sleek fast moving passenger train and the station master had no idea that there might be any passengers getting off. As a matter of fact, two men who did get off this train were not exactly traveling first class. We're coming in, John. I said we're coming in. You'd better get set to make tracks before the yard dig gets curious with the flashlight. Yeah. When we shake the dust off this rattler, we better split up until tomorrow night. Then we can meet down here in time to hot the east pound. Yeah, it wouldn't do for a couple of tramps to be seen together, would it? One guy out of a job and busted is enough. The two of them is just one, too many for the citizen's stomach. Yeah, okay, Marley. I'll see you tomorrow night. I'll take off here. That door is heavy. Well, I'll wait for you at the water tower, John. But don't be late. Okay. So long, Marley, and good luck on the handouts. Same back at you. So long. So long. Okay, buddy. Uh-oh. Wait a minute. Where do you think you're going, Mr? Me? I don't know. And if I was to make a guess right now, I'd kind of say I'm probably heading for the city Bastille. Ah. Where are you from, buddy? I don't know. I don't think I'm from any place. What do you mean? I mean I'm from a lot of places. I'm just a guy that's broke, out of a job, and trying to get along. That's all. You don't look or sound like a hobo, Mr. No. No, no, no. You're too young to be tramping the roads. Don't talk like you did either. Sure. I went to school once, if that's what you mean. They even gave me an engraved sheepskin when I got through. One that proclaims in loud letters that I'm a bachelor of arts. Are you trying to be smart with me, son? Smart? No, no, not me. I couldn't be smarter if I wanted to, Mr. You asked me a question and I answered it. And now we'd better get going, don't you think? You, uh, don't like being locked up, do you, son? No. No, I don't. I didn't think so. So, maybe I didn't see you jump off that train. Oh? Yeah, maybe I was somewhere else. What's the catch? No catch, son. Except maybe it's Sunday morning. Maybe it's gonna be a nice day and maybe you'd rather walk around in the sunshine and sit on a jail cot, maybe. Yeah, maybe I would. But you better be out of town before tomorrow night, or I might have to run you in after all. You better trot along before somebody else sees you. Okay, and thanks. You're pretty decent. Uh, wait a minute, yeah? You, uh, probably get breakfast up at the Parsonage. Parsonage? Yeah, yeah, you'll find it at Magnolian 3rd. Dr. Homestead's the minister's name and I don't think he'll turn you down. Thanks. Thanks again, Mr. I won't forget this. Yes? Oh, I, uh... Yes? I didn't expect... I mean, well, I wanted to see Dr. Holstead. You mean Dr. Homestead, don't you? Homestead? Oh, yes, of course, I guess I do. Well, he's just having breakfast. Breakfast? Mm-hmm. But if it's important, I can call him. Oh, no, no, it's not important, I'll... I'll come back again and... Who is it, Catherine? Oh, father, it's a gentleman to see you. To see me? Oh, how do you do, sir? Good morning. Won't you come in? Oh, well, I... Please do. Thank you. Now then, what can I do for you? Well, I... I didn't mean to disturb you, doctor, but I... I was told... I mean, well, I was told that maybe I could get breakfast here. Oh, breakfast? I haven't got any money to pay you for it, but if you've got a couple of odd jobs around here, I could do. Well, of course, my boy. Hey, Catherine, set another place at the table, will you? I will, father. And if you'd like to follow me, I'll show you where you can wash up a little. No, but I don't want to push you to any trouble. I mean, just a sandwich or something. I can eat it outside. I think it's always much nicer to sit down to a table, don't you? If you'll just come this way, son. I wonder if you'll forgive my rudeness, young man, but I have my sermon to finish and I must get to it. If you'll just remain comfortable and finish your breakfast, my daughter here will keep you company. Oh, well, I... I think I'd better be going. And leave all those lovely hotcakes. Oh, well, I... I could take them with me. You stay right where you are, my boy. And I'll see you later. Goodbye, doctor. Well? Some more syrup? Oh, please, yes, thank you. Tell me, Mr. Carvel, what do you do? I mean when you're working. Oh, I... I started out to be a writer. A writer? What sort of things did you write? A lot of tripe, Pollyanna stuff. I used to believe it, too. What do you mean? Oh, stuff like good fellowship, silver lining. It's always darkest just before dawn. It's a long roll that has no turning. What do you mean you used to believe it? Don't you now? Nope. Why? Because it's not true. I think it is. So does my father. Oh, sure. Being a minister, a man's got to believe it so as he can preach it. And I guess people want to hear it preached, too. But that doesn't make it true. Why not? Well, there's a lot of things people want to hear about how perfect everything is, that God is love, that there's beautiful sunshine everywhere. Well? Well, they don't believe that stuff. How can they? Maybe they used to think it was a long roll that doesn't turn, but they get kind of hungry and tired waiting for it, too. And the silver lining hasn't shown up yet. They don't want to hear about God as love and faith and hope and all the rest. They want to hear how they can do something for themselves. And they'd be suckers for the first guy that came along, too. They'd believe anything that might help them, maybe. But you say the word of God wouldn't help them? Isn't that what you mean, Mr. Carville? Look, Miss Homestead, there are two subjects that I don't argue about. Politics and religion. I believe what I believe, and you believe what you believe. All right. Do you prefer? Well, it sort of looks like I've done a pretty good job on my breakfast, doesn't it? And now, maybe you could figure out a few little chores I could do to pay you? I can't think of any chores, but I'll tell you what you can do if you want to. Anything at all. Go to church with me this morning. Church? Listen to my father's sermon. Nobody will try to convert you, and I think that's the least you could do to thank my father, to listen to what he has to say. He's rather a good speaker, will you? Well, that's what you want me to do. I guess I can stand it. Thanks, Mr. Carville. And after church, you can come back and have lunch with us. And in conclusion, may I leave you with these few thoughts that carry with them so much hope and faith and promise of the eternal future. They are indeed beatitudes of strength. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be competent. And blessed are they who are meek, for they shall inherit the earth. And in these words of everlasting truth and promise, seek ye the comfort of life and of life beyond. Amen. You please sit here, Mr. Carville. I'll have lunch on in a moment. Of course, it won't be very fancy. Look, I'm afraid I'm overdoing it just a little bit, don't you think? I mean, after all, breakfast and well... I think nothing of it, my boy. We enjoy having a guest. We don't have very many, you know, so we're really taking advantage of you, not you of us. Well, that's very kind of you, sir. How did you like my sermon this morning, Mr. Carville? Your sermon? I don't think Mr. Carville liked it very well, Father. Why not? Well, now I didn't say that. Mr. Carville believes that sermon should be more practical. That faith and hope are too flimsy to help much. Well, I... Isn't that what you said, Mr. Carville? Well, yes, maybe it is. Why, my boy? Well, I guess your sermon was all right this morning, Dr. Homestead. Things that people want to hear. I mean, people that only come to church to sell their conscience, the ones that don't need any help to begin with. Don't they, Mr. Carville? Well, maybe spiritual help, I guess. But I'm talking about the kind of sermon that would really help people. Why, I'll bet I could preach a sermon that wouldn't even leave standing room. I'd tell them a few things. A few things that might help right now. But they wouldn't have to wait until they went into the next world. Things that might begin to fill up that emptiness that people feel when they're down and out, when they're discouraged and everything's a mess. Yeah, that's what I'd do if I were a minister. That sounds very interesting, my boy, if you could do it. Of course I could do it. I think I know what people want. I mean, really want. We're having a meeting at the church Tuesday night. Supposing you preach the sermon, Mr. Carville. Priestess? Oh, no, no, I couldn't do that. Oh, besides, I won't even be here Tuesday. Have you someplace definite to go, Mr. Carville? Well, no, not exactly, but... Then why couldn't you stay until Tuesday? Well, I... I should like to hear that sermon, my boy. Oh, no, Doctor, I... I think Mr. Carville was just talking, Father. Joking. I don't think he meant what he said. Of course I meant what I said. Then why don't you prove it? You is my father, I... Well, because I... Because why, my boy? Well, I... All right. All right, I will do it. Maybe I was just talking to hear myself talk. But I'd like to prove whether I'm right or not, and if I am, I'll stay, Doctor Homestead, at Tuesday night. When a man seeks for proof, it is obvious that he waltzes in the dank undergrowth of doubt. But one only arbitrarily tries to prove what he disbelieves. And the constant search for that proof is the sure sign of a mind consciously or not held in the shackles of an obsession. In a moment, I'll return to our story. Nervously waiting in the doctor's study is had his tattered, battered suit pressed by Kathy. He looks much fitter. He wears also one of her father's white shirts. Several sizes. Too large. Why don't you sit down and relax, Mr. Carvo? You wear yourself out. Miss Homestead. Yes? I... I don't think I can go through with it. Why? I don't know, it's just that... Well, I thought I had something to say, but I guess I haven't. I can't think of a thing. You will. What makes you think I will? I tell you, I haven't got a thought in my mind. It's funny too, because I was so sure before, I was so certain. Now I can't do it. But you must. After all, father's told everyone that there'll be a guest speaker. You can't let him down now. Look, it isn't a question of letting anybody down. It's a matter of me going out there and making a first-class fool out of myself. I tell you, I can't do it. You'll do it, Mr. Carvo. What makes you so sure? Ready for you, Mr. Carvo? Will you come this way, please? But I just got through telling Miss Homestead that... He was just got through telling me he was going to say father, and it sounds wonderful. I... good for you, my boy. You know this experiment of yours is proving to be one of the most interesting things that's happened to us in a long time. Now, will you follow me, please? But Doctor Homestead... You'd better hurry, Mr. Carvo, or you'll be late. Good luck, and I'll be listening. My dear people, we have a visitor with us tonight, Mr. John Carvo, who first came to our house last Sunday morning, and who since then has proved himself to be a very good and valuable friend. Without knowing of his text, I asked him to talk to you tonight, and he very kindly consented. And now, without me saying anything further, may I introduce Mr. John Carvo? Thank you, and ladies and gentlemen, the other day when I told Doctor Homestead that I had something to say, I guess I was wrong, because what I have to say shouldn't be said here. The reason that I said I had something to say is that I... Well, I disagreed with Doctor Homestead. I disagreed with whoever it was that said, blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. The meek have never inherited anything except tragedy and unhappiness and a kicking around. It's the strong who inherits the earth. Root force, take what you can get, no matter how you have to take it. Blessed are they, sure the meek are blessed. They're blessed with everything and anything that the strong doesn't want kicks aside. My father was meek, and he was blessed. Oh, but what does it matter? You don't want to hear what I've got to say. At blaspheme, you're as if I did say it, and you'd smirk and sneer and say that I was doomed to eternal fire and brimstone. All right, I am, and I'm glad of it. If that's what it means not to be meek, I don't want the earth, you can have it. I got the package I had with me, Doctor Homestead. I'd like to get it. It's got a few things in it that... Oh, wait a minute, John. Yes, sir. Sit down for a moment, won't you? What for, sir? I'd like to talk to you. No, I don't think there's much of anything to say, Doctor Homestead, except that I'm sorry that I embarrassed you. You didn't embarrass me in the least, John. In fact, I'm glad you said what you did. John, what happened? What happened? Yes. You spoke of your father. You didn't finish what you were going to say. Would you mind telling me? Well, you wouldn't be interested, Doctor Homestead, because it... Yes? Well, my father was a doctor. He was a very great doctor and a very great man. But he got himself mixed up with a lot of cock-eyed ideas. He went for that blessed of a meek stuff. That's what happened to him. What do you mean that's what happened to him, John? Look, Doctor Homestead, my father was a great man. I worshipped him. I always wanted to be like him, just like him, because he was tolerant, gentle, and meek. And do you know what that did to him and to my mother? No. But my father never refused a call, dead of night, middle of the winter, howling, blizzard, even for a toothache he'd go. But he never collected any money. People would tell him they didn't have it, and he'd tear up the bill, or he'd say, pay me when you get it. They never got it. But they bought automobiles and radios and new clothes. But they never got enough money to pay my father for saving their lives or helping them when they needed it. Go on, son. But still he'd go out. Every call, night and day, day in and day out. Even when he was sick, he'd go. Until finally he had killed him. One night he came to my mother and myself, and he apologized because he knew he was about to die. He said he was sorry that he couldn't leave mother and me anything except a bunch of worthless bills. And those people, Dr. Homestead, those people didn't even come to his funeral. Not even a card or a note saying they were sorry. Sure, my dad was meek, and he inherited the earth six feet of it. I see. That's why I shut off my mouth. Every time I think of it, I see red. Red usually means a danger signal, doesn't it, John? And the usual thing to do when you see red is to stop. The green is the light to go on. Go on. John, your father was probably even much greater man than you thought he was. And he inherited a great deal more than you think he did. You, for example. What? Think about that, John. You know what I mean without me telling it to you. If he were alive, I wonder what he would have thought about that speech of yours the other night. You see, John, your father lived and died for a principle. The principle of mankind. He was meek, yes. But Christ was meek. But it takes strength to be meek. Enough strength to thrash the money changers, enough strength to live for what he believed in. And it sometimes takes more strength to live for what you believe in than it does to die for it. That's all I had to say. Goodbye, John. Goodbye, Doctor. Gee, I thought you was never gonna show, John. I waited and waited last night. I was gonna catch these bound without you. Well, I'm here now. Sure. Let's do it, and let's get going, huh? Here comes the rattler now. Okay. Try for the set of cars. Come on. Wait a minute, you guys. The Arctic. Come on, John. Stop or I'll go. Come on, John. Stop! Go on, Marley. I'm staying. I don't be a sap. Go on. Okay, sucker. What did you stop for, boy? Why didn't you grab the train with your buddy? Never mind. Never mind if I'm pinched. I'm pinched. I didn't figure on you, Stoppin. I didn't shoot to get you, but sort of make sure that you wouldn't keep going. You know, we don't like tramps in this town. Well, I'm not going. And your shooting didn't change my mind any either, except to make me wonder kind of suddenly where it was I thought I was going, what I was running away from. I'm staying right here if you don't mind. There's no place else to go. Well, well, what? A little while ago, I got a phone call, but a certain chap might try to help the eastbound about now, but wish him luck if he made it. And if he didn't, Dr. Homestead lives at Third and I ignore you. Yeah. Hello, John Carville. How long have you been sitting here in the church? Well, I don't know. Quite a while, I guess. We've been waiting for you at the house. We'd about given up. Then the caretaker said you were over here. You changed your mind about leaving. Yeah. I'm glad about that, John. I guess Dad'll be pretty glad too. He thinks a lot of you. Does he? So do I. That's why I was hoping you'd come back. In fact, that's why I called Mr. Perkins. Who's Mr. Perkins? He's the detective that takes care of the freight yard. So you were the one who called him? Well, I didn't want you to come back if you didn't want to. Really? I thought it might be that you had some place to go or something to find. I did. But I guess I'd already found it, Cathy, at your house. Shall we go there now? I guess, thank you. It's a beautifully clear day, isn't it, John? There is day I've known him a long time, Cathy. You understand that. I think I'd understand better if I knew why you came back. I don't know exactly why myself, Catherine. Except, well, maybe I'm a sucker, like my Dad. Maybe I've gone for the same things he went for. Blessed are they. With good enough for him? Yes, I guess so. Yes, it must have been. And I can't kick much because he was happy. He was very happy. Well, I haven't been at all. You can be. I know that, Cathy. And I'm going to be from now on, thanks to your Father and mine. John, that's what I meant the day I talked to you. Your Father was like mine. That's why, blessed are they that are meek, for they shall inherit the earth, and they shall be quithered to you. It's yours for the taking, John. Yours for the taking. Ours for the taking, too. Isn't that so, Cathy? Why, yes, John. Yes. The meek shall inherit the earth. The earth is for the taking. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, and created man in his own image. Therefore, man can, by the very power of this heritage, become godlike. Unless, and I say unless, the dark angel who is passed out of paradise shall speak his silent and evil words. And fill the mind with the quick sands of obsession. Story was produced and transcribed by C.P. McGregor in Hollywood.