 Pat O'Brien, John Leslie, Leo Penn, star on Family Theater. The mutual broadcasting system in cooperation with Family Theater Incorporated presents Round Trip, starring John Leslie and Leo Penn. Brief portions are transcribed. Pat O'Brien is your host. This week's Family Theater story is one that's been told about 10,000 times, I guess. Part of it anyway. The part about a boy and a girl who meet and fall in love and begin to dream of the happy ending, which should be the outcome of any romance, at least according to the movies and best sellers. Everybody has these dreams, and often they come true. But not by dreaming alone. Marriage is too real a thing, too serious, too much made up of the thousand and one details of daily life to be built solidly on the Gozamer webs of youthful dreams. Marriage is living with a person morning, noon, and night, sharing every trouble and joy, accepting the bad qualities and balancing them against the good. Marriage and romance are two mighty different things. Romance only needs a moon in June. A marriage that endures needs work and sacrifice and prayer. It needs God with His help and guidance. It needs two people who realize that more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Well, we're getting away from our story, though. Roundtrip, it's called, and I hope you like it. Pat O'Brien returns after our story which stars Joan Leslie and Leo Penn. It's Monday morning, and as the Long Island train slows for its scheduled stop at West Hampton, Elizabeth Brownlee looks idly out the window at the crowded platform. These are commuters, the working people whose lives are built around the arrival and departure of the train that carries them to that job in the city and home again. And usually on a Monday morning among the regular passengers, you can spot at the Telltale Suitcase of a city dweller, returning from a weekend in the country, like the man had just got on. His suitcase not only identifies him as a returning vacationist, but as an ex-service man as well, for it's an old beat-up flight bag. Elizabeth continues to stare out the window as the man spots the empty seat beside her, makes a dash for it, drops the flight bag at his feet, and sinks weirdly into the red plush. I made it. I beg your pardon. I said, like, hey, I must be going crazy. My check! Yeah, it's true. It's really true. How come your way out? What are you doing? Sorry, there's ladies first. I guess I'm just sort of surprised to see you. I know what you mean. How are you, Liz? Fine. Just fine. You look fine. Just as pretty as ever. You look awful good yourself. I'll be dying. Yeah, me too. I guess this is the spot where I'm supposed to say it's a small world. Yes, I guess it is. You'll have to forgive me if I seem to stare at you, Liz. It's been a long time, Liz. It has been. A very long time. Yeah. Well, this is swell. I had visions of a dog trip, and here I am with a beautiful gal to talk to. She's not saying anything, huh? Oh, I'm sorry. Uh, you don't live in West Hampton? Oh, no, no. Just out with some friends. Weekend in the country. Oh. One more of those, and I'm finished. It's really rough. I didn't think you'd ever take to the country. You never did seem to like the wide open spaces. Right lights. Yeah, right lights. Can't get over it, Liz. Running into you like this. What are you doing? You live out here somewhere? No, I've been staying with some friends out in Montauk. Uh-huh. Weekend in the country. Like you said, it's really rough. Well, you always were a silly girl, if I remember. That was one thing we'd both agree on. Yeah. Nobody ever loved the dirty old city the way we did. Nobody ever loved the dirty old city the way we did. And nobody ever loved each other the way we did. I remember the first time we met. New Year's Eve in Times Square. Everything was crazy with us right from the start. It was noisy and bright and wonderful. And you were out with a girl named Mary, and I was with a boy named Clay. And somehow, in the crowd, I lost Clay, and you lost Mary. The next thing I knew, we were together. Close together. And in all the thousands of screaming, shoving people, we were alone. I'm going to kiss you, Liz. I know. I've been wanting to do that all night. Let's get out of this mob. What about Mary and Clay? I hope they'll be very happy together. You're crazy. So are you. Come on. We walked around the city for the rest of the night, and watched the morning come to town. You like this town the way I do, don't you, Liz? I guess I do. If you want it, I'll give it to you. We'd better find Clay and Mary. Forget about Clay and Mary. It's a new day and a new year, and I'm giving you the greatest city in the world for a Happy New Year present. Do you want it or don't you? Yes, Jack. Sure I do. Well, it's yours. All the bridges and the noise and the high buildings and the subways and the lights and the automatic. Me. I'm going to kiss you again. No. Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry. That's the way it was right from the start. Crazy and wonderful. We thought we had the world by the tail. And in a way, we did. Our part of the world. What did you say, Liz? Nothing. I didn't say anything. I was just thinking. Sure it seems funny running into you like this. Somehow I had an idea that I would never see you again. That's funny, all right. The last I heard of you, you were flying a B-17 over Foggia. Who told you that? A fellow named Clay. Don't know if you remember him, but he remembered you, all right. You don't mean Clay. What's his name? The kid that took you out that New Year's Eve? That's the one. Oh, that was quite a night. And so long, you've probably forgotten it. Want a cigarette? No thanks. I don't smoke. You never learned how, huh? Remember the day I tried to teach you? And you got so mad because it kept puffing out instead of you. It's funny how you remember a little thing like that. It's funny how I remember everything about you. Looking at you now, sitting there beside me. If you only knew all the things I remember. The way it was fun to just walk down the street with you. Even in the rain, we used to stomp around. And that one night, it was really pouring. We'd taken the Staten Island ferry just for the ride. Because where else can you take a cruise for five cents? I've got more water in my pockets than this old scowl's got to float on. You want to go inside? No. Do you? No. Of course you realize that we're out of our mind. I don't think so. Look, look straight ahead. What do you see? The Statue of Liberty. You know, some people spend a fortune to get on a boat sail clear across the ocean, turn around and sail back just to have the thrill of being welcomed home by the lady with the torch in her hand. Hey, that was quite a speech. I liked it. I like you. I love you. Come here, Liz. You look like a puppy that's fell in the rain down. You're the most beautiful girl in the world. We're going to get married. Get married? You want to marry me, don't you? Yeah. Yes, I do, but... What? Well, gee, I don't know. I guess I just didn't think about it. I haven't had time to think about it. I've only known you two weeks and three days and... And what? In 26 minutes. But I guess I couldn't love you anymore if I'd known you for 300 years. I haven't got any money, Liz. I haven't got anything except a room with a view and a shaky job with a second-rate publishing house. We've got each other. That's the important thing. Yeah, that's the important thing. That was the important thing. Then it was. And I held you close and the sky fell apart and the rain came down. I haven't forgotten Liz. I haven't forgotten the thing. It's raining. Huh? I said it's raining. It was raining then, too. It was what? Nothing, Liz. Wish they served food on these trains. I'm hungry. Well, you always were. Crazy and wonderful and hungry. You asked me to marry you and we were on a ferry boat in the pouring rain. And I said yes. Did you say something, Liz? I thought you said something. I haven't said anything since I said it was raining. It's still raining. Hey, it is beginning to come down, isn't it? I hope someone's meeting you at the station. Someone meeting you? No. Huh. What do you do, Liz? I mean... Oh, I'm a working girl. Work at SWC&B, advertising agency, pounding a typewriter. Did you marry anyone I know? No. I didn't marry anyone. Would you like a cigarette? I'm sorry I asked you that before, didn't I? Looks like a real storm out there, doesn't it? Uh-huh. Not married. How'd a pretty girl like you keep from getting married? I haven't had a bit of trouble. Not a bit. All you have to do is run. Run hard and fast. Wonder if you're thinking about the same thing I am right now. You'd almost have to be. Being on a train with me, talking about being married. But maybe you've forgotten. It's been a long time ago. I wish I could forget. But I never will. That night on the Staten Island ferry, you said... We're gonna get married. We're...get married. You want to marry me, don't you? Oh, yes. Yes, I do, but... But what? See, I don't know. I guess I just didn't think about it. I haven't had time to think about it. I've only known you two weeks and three days and... And what? 26 minutes. I guess I couldn't love you anymore if I'd known you for 300 years. I haven't got any money, but it is. I haven't got anything except a room with a view and a shaky job with a second-right publishing house. But we've got each other. That's the important thing. The important thing. We had each other. And we got off the ferry boat and ran through the rain. She'll look in the window at Tiffany's. What do you have, Liz? Oh, you see now. What shall I choose? A circle of diamonds or a plain but also smart gold band? Hey, Liz. What? One day I'll buy you the whole window full. I know you will. It doesn't matter about that shaky job in one room with a view, huh? Maybe you better show me the view. Are you with me? I'm right behind you. Only one more flyer. Liz, it's not much of a room. How's the view? Well, on a clear day, you can see Macy's basement. It was a beautiful view. Right smack into a brick wall. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that we loved each other and we were going to get married. The sooner the better. What about it, Liz? Don't you think you ought to tell your folks? No. They'd try to talk me out of it. I know they would. I don't want to be talked out of it. I want everything to stay just as it is. Nobody else in the world. Just you and me. I don't want you to be sorry. I'd go crazy if I made you unhappy. Hey, you're not changing your mind. I'll never change my mind about you. The next thing I remember, we were at Penn Station waiting for the train. And it was raining. And we were running away to get married and live happily ever after. You scared, Liz? No. Your hands are like ice. You are scared. You sure you want to go? You don't want to change your mind, do you? Of course I don't. Do you? What made you ask that? I don't know. You're so quiet and I've never seen you act so serious. Getting married is serious. Yeah. I can't believe we're really doing it. I mean, now that we really are. What do you mean? Nothing. What time is it? You just asked me two minutes ago. I wonder if mom's got my letter by now. She's probably crying her eyes out. Oh, quit it, will you? I'm sorry. We've been through that a hundred times. I'm beginning to feel like a criminal. I know, and I'm sorry. She'll get over it. I know she will. Train leaving on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. This is it, Liz. Yeah, this is it. Liz? Yes, Jack. You're laughing. Come on, let's do it. It's not raining. You're shaking. I know. I guess I am, too. Come here. Jack. You don't have to marry me. You know that, don't you? Jack, I... What were you going to say? You don't want to go through with it, do you? You don't want to marry me. What isn't that? You've got to understand that it isn't that. Then what is it? I guess I'm just scared. I keep thinking about so many things. About what if you lost your job? Or we got sick? Or maybe you'd be different, or I'd be different, and we wouldn't have fun anymore. I keep thinking about my mom. I can't help it, and you can't blame me for it. I keep wondering if I can be happy, knowing that I've broken her heart. But, Liz... Do you, Jack? It just seems like everything's happening so fast. Too fast and crazy. I'm scared. Because I love you. Come on, Liz. I'll take you home. Oh, Jack. Don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry. But I couldn't stop crying. And it started raining again, and you took me home. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell you that it wasn't because I didn't love you. But all of a sudden I realized that marriage isn't built on a ferry boat ride. It needs thought and understanding. It needs wisdom. A kind of wisdom I didn't have then. And I knew it. I've learned a lot since then. And with it all I've kept on loving you. If only... Did you say something? No. I was thinking again. I seem to be doing a lot of that all of a sudden. Don't let me disturb your thoughts. You'd laugh if you knew what I was thinking about. I would? I guess you're asking me if I was married made me think about it. About the night we tried to elope. Almost ran off to Maryland to get married and didn't, remember? Yeah, I remember. I wonder how many other kids have done the same thing. Got scared at the last minute. You cried all the way home. I'd never seen you cry before. I didn't know what to say to you. You didn't say anything. And I don't blame you. I was pretty silly. Gee, I wish I could tell you this. I wish I could tell you that you weren't silly. We just weren't ready for what happened to us. I know that now. Somewhere the timing had all mixed up. I was scared too, but I wouldn't admit it. I was scared because I started thinking ahead for the first time. Thinking about the responsibilities I'd have. Wondering if I could handle them. What if I couldn't? What would happen to us? After that night everything seemed to fall apart. Maybe it was because we both felt guilty that we let each other down. I don't know why, but we couldn't talk anymore. But I've never stopped loving you, not for a minute. I remember the last time I saw you. Kind of funny. It was New Year's Eve again, 1941. The crowd in Times Square wasn't quite so gay. I was so surprised when I called to you. Liz, how are you, Liz? Hi. Just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year. Well, thanks, Jack. Same to you. I called you the other day. I know. I've been meaning to call you back, but I've got a job now. Sure, sure, I know. Look, Clay's waiting and I... Yeah, I don't want to keep Clay waiting. I better run. I'll see you, Jack. Liz, wait a minute. I called you, but you disappeared in the crowd. I wanted to tell you that I was going away. That I'd enlisted in the Air Corps. I never saw you again. Now you're sitting here beside me in a train. At the station. At, uh, Hent-Sulvania Station. Hent-Sulvania Station. Here, I'll carry that bag for you. Whoa. Watch your step. I guess this is... Well, it certainly wasn't nice seeing you, Jack. Yeah. I guess I'd better get going. I'll carry your bag out for you. Get your cab. Would you? Sure. Come on. The old Penn Station hasn't changed much, has it? Same old station. Will your wife be meeting you? Oh, no. I didn't get married either. The cabs are over here. Look, Liz, maybe I could call you sometime, huh? Where you living? Same place. No kidding? How about you? Oh, I've got a room with a little better view than I used to have. Special car for Santa Fe Chief. Now boarding on track two. Train loading on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. Liz? Yeah? Nothing. Train loading on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. Jack. Yeah? Go on. What were you going to say? I was just going to say that sometimes, don't you think people are confused and frightened because they are faced with something so important they're afraid they can't live up to it? You mean marriage, Liz? Is that what you mean? Yeah, that's what I mean. I know a guy that was scared to death of it once. But he's changed. So is she. Train leaving on track nine for Trenton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. That train on track nine. It goes to Baltimore. That's in Maryland. Uh-huh. You want to get on that train? Yeah. Do you? Then let's. But not now. Those trains leave every hour, every day of the week. Liz, let's us pick a special one. After we get to know each other again, after we're sure. We'll be sure this time. Come here. I'm going to kiss you. I know. Now come on. I'll take you home. We've got a lot of things to talk about. Okay. But Jack. Get a couple of candy bars first, will you? I'm hungry. How about a brine again? A sort of sarcastic question you'll hear asked every once in a while. It goes like this. Why don't you grow up? It's a good question, I think. One that we should keep asking ourselves every day of our lives. Because the moment we stop growing, stop seeing things more clearly and acting more rationally, well, then we really stop living. Now there are a lot of husbands and wives and parents who have never quite grown up. I don't know that they've married too young. I mean that they've failed to grow up to the responsibilities that come with marriage and a family. For instance, some parents don't see the necessity of telling their children about God and instilling in them a faith that will support and guide them in later life. Some parents don't understand that children will never see the value of prayer unless they see their father and mother actually praying. Praying together with them as a family. Only grown-up people can really raise a family as it should be. Only the grown-ups realize that the family that prays together stays together. Thank you for being with us and God bless you. Our grateful thanks to Pat O'Brien, John Leslie and Leo Penn for their appearances and to Martha Wilkerson for writing our play. Original music was scored and conducted by Max Tehr. This production of Family Theatre Incorporated was directed by David Young. Brief portions were transcribed. Next week our Family Theatre stars will be Joan Caulfield and Richard Widmark in 2 for 1. Your host will be James A. Farley. This series of the Family Theatre broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this kind of program and by the mutual broadcasting system which has responded to this need. Be with us next week at the same time when Richard Widmark, Joan Caulfield and James A. Farley will star on Family Theatre. Your announcer Merle Ross. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.