 The Irene Dunn Fred McMurray Show. Irene Dunn is Susan. And Fred McMurray as George. Together in a gay new exciting comedy adventure, Bright Star. Irene Dunn Fred McMurray Show. With Irene Dunn as Susan Armstrong, owner and editor of the Hillsdale Morning Star, and Fred McMurray as George Harvey, her ace reporter. Well, it looks like a big story is breaking. And we find always on the job George Harvey at the scene of a four alarm fire. Hey Lieutenant, how's chances of me getting inside? Well sure, George. Anytime. Anytime tomorrow. Keep back in the lines everybody. George! Oh, hello Susan. Come down here to check up on me. No. I knew you put in a hard night here and I thought you might like to sandwich. Oh, thanks. This is the first time in my life I've edited this way that I'm a reporter. Did it just for a little old me, huh? Well, no. The paper set up a canteen for everybody. Oh. Well, better get back in the job so that you'll have a story for tomorrow. One moment, George. Yeah? I've got something important to ask you. You don't approve of me as an editor, do you? Oh no, Susan, this is no time to discuss that. The third floor is about the cave here. I insist on an answer, a truthful answer. Okay, you'll get it. Give me an old fashioned editor who needs a shave, sleeps in his pants, and cusses you out till a fly won't light on you. I see. Well, you needn't flex your biceps for me. You're a strapping brute with all the social instincts from the grace of a backward caveman. Good night. Good night. None of you like that. Never trust a dame when they ask you to tell the truth about themselves. I can do for you, Miss Armstrong. Good morning, Sammy. Yes, there is. You're an alert copy boy. How would you like to change jobs with me? Huh? Oh, no. No, I don't think that would do either. I wouldn't even make a good copy boy. Well, sure you would. Any dope can do my job. Thanks, Sammy. Sammy, man to man, what do you think of me as editor of this newspaper? Man to man, and I'm not going to get fired. I promise. Well, I'll say this about you. The last editor never got whistled that when he walked out the door. I see what you mean. Sammy, I'd quit on the spot if I could only once deflate the ego of George Harvey. If I could prove to him that I do know something about the newspaper business. Miss Armstrong, to be perfectly frank, Mr. George Harvey can be had. Do you think so? Here. Read this morning's edition. Bioline George Harvey. Last night, the Stratford Hotel burned down an unidentified spectator dashed through the fire line into the Blazing Building to rescue an elderly lady trapped on the third floor. He received minor burns and was removed to Lincoln Hospital. Well, that's very interesting. I'll say. Very good reporting. I saw that happen myself. Miss Armstrong, you missed the greatest human interest angle of the whole gosh darn fire. And so did Mr. Harvey. The hero is an unidentified man. Yes, I see. Of all the unimaginative reporting why this story could run for days instead of one edition. And I found out who the hero is. Who? Pendleton Martin. Pendleton Martin? Never heard of him. Needed in anyone else. But we can build him up into a national hero. Yes. I can see it all. Bands playing the key to the city. The governor shaking his hand. The mayor posing with him at a reception in my house. Sammy! We're going to make Pendleton Martin bigger than the Adam Balm. You said it. Sammy, I think you've come up with a great idea. Now, you go and get Mr. George Harvey and have him here in my office immediately. I'll show him. I'm the kind of an editor that hasn't shaved in six months, taken off my clothes in 12 hours, and I can out-custom merely a stevedore that ever lived. You sent for me, Susan? Yes, I sent for you. I'm going to pass on some information to you, George, on the subject of imaginative reporting. Oh, goody. I'm going to get a lesson in journalism. Imaginative journalism. Thank you, master. But you can't imagine what an imagination I've got. Now, take last week when I was covering the beauty contest. There was a certain blonde... That's not imagination. With your type, it's just instinctive reaction. George, my paper needs increased circulation. My kind of imagination increases my circulation. I'm looking for a big story, something extraordinary, something sensational. No fooling. You've got a thought there, all right? Well, let's see. I could go out and bomb the city hall or how about a nice hatchet murder? I think for about five bucks I could get a guy I know to hack up his mother-in-law. Now, save it, George. I thought you were a big shot and never missed guy, but you are Yoko. Last night, the Stratford Hotel burned down and you covered it. Are you kidding? Of course I covered it. Like a blanket. What's wrong with my story? Fair for unimaginative reporting. But you didn't make it big enough. Not big enough. The hotel burned down to the ground. Not enough. You mean I should have spread the fire a little? Tried to burn down the whole block? You missed the real story. I bow to your superior wisdom. Instruct me, master. An unidentified hero. A man is a hero and you leave him unidentified. Would it make him a bigger hero if you knew his name? It certainly would and I already know his name. Mr. Pendleton Martin. You probably won't believe it, but I had reasons for leaving him unidentified. You know him? Never saw him before. He's from Detroit, I understand. Well, then you can't have any reasons. We're going to make a hero, this man, George. I've already arranged a reception for Mr. Martin at my home tonight and there'll be more important dignitaries than there are people in this town. Susan, take my advice. Call it off. There you are. Haven't the faintest spark of journalism in your system. I'm strongly tempted to fire you. You can't. I just quit. Oh, well, now be sensible, George. Don't let a little incident like this make you do something right. It shows a terrible weakness in your character. OK, so I still work for you. I've got a strong character. You're not quitting? No. You're still working for me? Yep. Honestly? Honestly. Good, you're fired. Miss Susan, I think you're making a big mistake. Georgie Porgy is a pretty smart slicker. Patience as my housekeeper run the house and I run my business. You said run, not ruin, didn't you? Have you fixed the odor of yet? Oh, dude. I've been working on them for six hours steady and I'm dragging them. There's the doorbell. Will you see who it is, please? Not too sure. I've got six arms, ten legs. I'm an octopus. Come and pie. Kiss the girls and make them cry. Kick the girls, Patience. I chewed nails at the age of nine months. Well, George, I can't imagine what in the world brings you here. Oh, nothing much. I was just wondering if you'd ring me in on this swarray tonight. You know, for public hero number one. Well, I thought you considered this reception ridiculous. I do. I think you've really flipped your wig, but I'd like to be here for last. George, you're not ingratiating yourself to me exactly. Well, what do I have to do to get in? Buy tickets? There's no need to beat around the bush. If you'd like to work this story for me, you can cover it from the woman's angle, the society page. I can come, huh? Sure, I'd like to have you. You may pick up a few tips on good journalism. See how a great story's engineered. Yes, you can come, George. Oh, and George, after you write this up for the society page, I'd like you to put in a little time in the classified ads. I think you're kind of mixed up, Susan, off your rocker, if you'll pardon me. Listen, you'll cover this story the way I want you to. I'm not working for you. What? No. No, I'm working for your competitor, the Hillsdale News. May I offer you some hot dirt, Mr. Mayor? No, thanks. When is our hero going to show up? Oh, any minute now. I'm expecting him momentarily. You're supposed to be here at 8.30, Susan, aren't you? It's almost nine. He was severely burned, Mr. Harvey. It's probably taking him some time to get here from the hospital. But I thought your paper said he only suffered minor burn. Her paper? I thought you worked for Miss Armstrong. No, no, not anymore, Mr. Mayor. I've moved over to the news. Hmm, is that so? Well, I thought this whole business was being sponsored by Miss Armstrong's paper. No, I'm very democratic. Did you know there was something wrong with my imagination? Mr. Harvey, may I speak to you privately a moment? Oh, yes, certainly. You'll pardon us, Mr. Mayor. Yes, pardon us. Now, George, I have a few well-chosen words to say to you. This isn't exactly the place to talk business, is it? Well, what's wrong with it? Well, we're in the kitchen. We are? Oh, yes, I hadn't noticed. Look, I guess you're the kind of woman who wouldn't have much to do with the kitchen. Executive type. Let me show you what you're missing, Susan. Now, this white box here is a refrigerator. I invited you here, but I won't have you spoiling this reception. And over here, we have a stove. You see, many foods must be cooked before they can be eaten. If you have some low, mean trick in mind to discredit the morning star... Oh, here's a very handy little gadget. It's called an apron. You put it around your waist, and it's a lot cheaper than tailored suits, and you have no idea how much more feminine it makes a woman look. You know I've never noticed before, but you have a look of a low beast in your eyes. Yes, I don't know what it is with me. It brings out something primitive in me to see a woman in the kitchen. I know you're up to something. No, no, not a thing. I just want to cover this story. I wouldn't miss Mr. Pendleton Martin's introduction to society for anything. You've been quietly luring about something ever since I mentioned making him a hero. What nasty little ideas lurking in the barren waste of your brain, George. Miss Armstrong, we got trouble. It's Pendleton Martin. Pendleton? Sammy, what is it? Where is he? He's in jail. What? What a headline. Hero makes bucket. George, don't you dare. What happened, Sammy, quickly? I tried to stop him honest, but he's big miss Armstrong, big in power. Oh, right, Sammy, what did he do? He beat up three sailors. Oh, this is terrible. What are we going to do? Well, I suggest that you move the reception down to the pokey. I didn't ask for your opinion. I'll get him out somehow. I still think you can make a hero out of this guy. Of course I can. It's perfectly clear that the fight was just a little misunderstanding. The sailors didn't realize Mr. Martin was our man at the moment. A hero, a fine, courageous, self-sacrificing hero. According to the dope I got on him, he's got a sing-sing diploma and he was once a draft dodger. What? Yep. And to round out this noble character, he hates animals and kids, was disowned by his mother and can't speak two words without turning the air blue. George Harvey, you let me go ahead with this thing and you didn't say a word. Well, I haven't got any imagination, remember? I'm not creative. Well, this is certainly a great lesson in journalism. You've imagined yourself a big popular hero. Now, I'll be very interested to see how you imagine yourself out of it. Now, back to our two stars, Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray and the second act of our story. George Harvey, after, shall we say, a slight disagreement with his boss, Susan Armstrong, put his job as reporter on the Hillsdale Morning Star and went to work on the opposition paper. At the moment, Susan, accompanied by Sammy, the office boy, is trying to release her big front-page hero, Pendleton Martin from jail. If it's the last thing I ever do, Sammy, I'll show George Harvey the Pendleton Martin's a hero. Just keep listening to me, Miss Armstrong, and you can't miss it. Now, all we got to do is get him out of jail and that'll only take another moment. Oh, jailer! Yes, ma'am. I have a court order here to release Mr. Pendleton Martin. You have, huh? Now, that's nice. Yes, isn't it? Can't do it, lady. And why not? Somebody beat you to the punch, George Harvey. Now, wasn't that downright sweet of him? Yeah, sweetest crushed vinegar. Now, if I know George Harvey and I know him, he'll hold the biggest... This town is ever known for his paper just to discredit your attempt to make a hero of Pendleton Martin. He'll ruin you. Now, what am I going to do? Miss Armstrong, to coin a phrase, you look tragic enough to be my mother-in-law if I had one. Sammy, to coin another phrase, you got me into this pickle and you darn well better get me out. Well, stop worrying. I've already got it figured out. Now, my advice is to get Martin away from George and get him out of town before anybody finds out about him. Very brilliant. But first, we've got to find George Harvey. He isn't in his office. He's not at Peterson's pool room. He may have stopped by some girl's place. No girl would go out with George. That isn't true. I got a duplicate copy of his black book. Ha-ha, it's loaded. Oh. Oh, give it to me. Okay. Which one shall I draw first? Well, it's pretty hard to guess George, but my personal selection would be Connie Randall, the home type. Okay. I'll try her. Hello, Miss Randall. After much deliberation, your name has been selected from a long list of contestants. Stand by for the jackpot question. He wasn't at Miss Randall's. He wasn't at Miss Dirtby's. He wasn't at Miss Aldrich's. He wasn't at Miss Dempsey's. He wasn't at Miss Fowler's. He wasn't at Mrs. McGraw's. Mrs. Don't count. She's his aunt. Sammy, where are we going? Just follow me. He's down here in this basement. Oh. Oh. I'm going in alone, Sammy. Okay, Miss Armstrong. See you at the office. Good morning, Mr. Harvey. Susan, I'm about to make a move. Just what are you doing? I'm playing checkers with a janitor. George, I've hunted all over for you. Well, that is a surprise. I thought you'd be out of town by now. All right, George. You've got the upper hand right now. I'm not prepared to play cat and mouse this morning. You come about the boiler, too, lady? I beg your pardon. This is Miss Susan Armstrong of the Morning Star. Is that right? Say, this thing is getting big, isn't it? Samuel H. Garrett. He's the name, Miss. Married to a Dickerson girl. Born right here in Hillsdale. Got three kids all the way. Huh? A big story in Samuel. Yes, sir. He boiler blew up last night. There was water up to your ears. George, I don't think you'll get the pull of surprise for this. Oh, I'm creating, making something of it. It just takes a little imagination. I think I can get our friend here to blow the boiler up again and really do a good job of it. He's married to a Dickerson, you know. Yes, sir. He got three children of my own. Where have you hidden Pendleton Martin? Hidden him? Are you preferring a kidnapping child? Like I said, I adjusted the controls and forgot about the darn thing. Oh, thanks, Samuel. I've got the whole story. Let's get out of here, Susan, before we have to swim out. George, where is Pendleton Martin? Up in my apartment. In your apartment? No, don't worry. The door's locked. George. Hmm? I'm sorry we've had our little differences. Can't we be friends? Oh, sure, sure. What do you want me to do? Well, I'd like you to come to my house for lunch today. Well, you don't have to look at me that way. I don't have any ulterior motive. I seem to like to have you come to the house for lunch today. Oh, sure, sure, I get it. After lunch, what do you want me to do? Take Martin out and get him lost, maybe? I had no such idea. Just a plain, simple lunch, eh? That's right. And afterward, we could relax and get better acquainted. I may have been a little hasty, prioring you. Well, you'd have to pay an awful lot to get me back. Well, I might be willing to. Is it a date? Sure. Sure, I'll be there. You know, I think I'll keep Martin locked up in my room permanently. He's like money in the bank. Now, patience, have you got everything strained? Naturally. As soon as I let Georgie pour gin, I'm off for the afternoon. Correct. I've got to get his cooperation in this Martin matter, and I'll never get it by being an editor. So I'm, well, I'm going to play it like one of those cute numbers in his black book. With this, I'd like to stay around and watch. I want to show him I can run my house without help. Mr. Harvey likes fluffy little things in kitchen aprons. Eh, I hope this thing doesn't blow up on you like that nutty hero did last night. If you want my advice... I don't. Well, just keep listening to Sammy, the office boy, and see how far you get. Oh, here he is now. I'll run into the kitchen, and you send him out to me. Okay. Good luck, Cleopatra. Good day, patience, bird of paradise. Hiya, Georgie Pargy. Is the, uh, gotcha sin? Quite. You'll find her out in the kitchen. You mean her ladyship is actually in the scullery? Rather. Knocking together sandwiches with her own little pinkies. No. Isn't it romantic? Well, see you around. Uh, you're leaving me alone here with her? But you aren't scared. Well, just between you and me for the first time in my life, yes. Don't tell me a big hunk of stuff like you is afraid of a little thing like her. No, not her. The food. She never made a sandwich in her life. It's liverwurst. She can't do a thing to it. Oh, thanks, patience, you reassured me. Uh, be seeing you. Hello. Anybody home? Oh, George. It's that time already. I'm afraid you've caught me at the stove. Well, it's okay. It isn't lit. I mean, I was just finishing the lunch. Do you like liverwurst sandwiches? Just plain liverwurst? Uh-huh. Nothing else? No, no, just plain. Love them. You don't mind eating here in the breakfast, do you? It's more homey, I think. Anything you say. Anything I can get to. Cigarette, ashtray. Well, you don't happen to have something cold in the refrigerator, do you? There's ice cubes, I believe. Oh, forget it, it's not important. Oh, something to drink you mean. I completely forgot. I made some punch. It's in the living room. Punch? Well, try something new every day, I always say. My arm, madam? You haven't mentioned whether you like me better in an apron. Apron? Oh, that's it. I knew there was something different. Yeah, that's quite a change. Not bad. Thank you. Here's the punch on the piano. Would you like to pour? But where is it? Can't you see the punch? I can't even see the piano. Do you always keep the curtains drawn in the daytime like this? Well, the sunlight fades the rug. Reminds me of the back room at Peterson's pool hall. You can get faded there anytime. Come on, sit down here beside me. No, I don't play a note. Oh, come on, sit down anyway. Well, I did used to do a pretty fair job on chopsticks. Stop it, George. George, listen. This is no favor to mine. Someday he'll come along. The man will do something to you, George. Yeah. That's sort of strange seeing you at the piano instead of at the typewriter. Oh, I inherited the newspaper. But I was born a woman, George. Yeah. Yeah, I'm beginning to notice. You are? You even smell good. Not like quitters ink at all. We haven't noticed a lot of things about each other. I know. Susan, I, uh, what about the sandwiches? Oh, don't bother. They're only liverwashed. George. I, uh, hope you don't mind. Oh, what's a woman gonna do, George, when you sweep her off her feet like that? How'd you make out with muscle man this noon? Oh, everything was wonderful, patients. It worked just like I thought it would. Darn it. I still say I could have washed from behind the curtains. Men are so weak, patients. Even the strong Mr. Harvey, he was like putty in my hands. I swept him off his feet he left in a daze. It's wonderful the magical woman can work when she wants to. You sure fooled me. I didn't think you were much of a magician. Poor George. He kissed me. Oh, and then you told him to get that Martin character out of town and he floated out of your honor cloud, huh? Patience. Oh, good heaven. What's the matter? Oh, darn that, George, for kissing me. I forgot to tell him about Martin. How did you know it was me, George? I was expecting you. George, where is Pendleton Martin? You've got troubles, isn't it? He's escaped. He what? Yep. He's pretty good at picking locks, I guess. Well, you've got to find him. Oh, he's probably on his way out of town by now. He left with my best suit, overcoat and tie platter. Oh, well, well, that's good. Good? Of course. Now I can write a glowing account of poor Mr. Martin and how he was called away suddenly without a chance to play the role of hero for me. It's really very funny, George. You see, that's why I invited you for lunch to get rid of Martin. You're sad, right? In that event, I'm coming back to work for you at a $50 raise and I'd like two weeks' vacation with pay and a nice fat bonus. Oh, no, Mr. Harvey. No, the threat you held over my head has run off with your overcoat. Honey, doll girl, listen. I didn't trust that cozy little scene today. Martin didn't escape. I've still got him locked up. What a mean despicable trick. I didn't think you'd lose your head so far as to put on an apron, make sandwiches, and a bubble all at me kiss you on the piano bench at high noon. George, George, listen. I admit I set out to trick you, but, well, something went wrong. After you kissed me, I forgot about everything else. Yeah, you looked a little stunned at that. Well, I was, believe me, so can't we get together? Sure. I didn't really intend to leave the Morning Star for good. I'll report back tomorrow. You're working for me again? Honest? Honest. Then I order you to write a story, a glowing article about Martin, and get him out of town. I can't write that article. I'm ordering you. Well, this may come as quite a surprise, but the police department will be taking your hero up the river tomorrow. They will? What for? They just uncovered evidence that Martin's the one who set the fire to the hotel in the first place. He's a notorious fire bug. Our stars Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray will be back in just a moment. George. Yes, student? I'd like you to know that I didn't figure out all this hero business by myself. I figured that. Naturally, it took two great minds. Yes, Sammy's and mine. All I can say is, anyone dumb enough to go for that kind of imaginative reporting ought to get paddled. Oh, now don't blame Sammy. After all, he's only an office boy. I wasn't thinking of Sammy. George, you put that paddle right down. I will, right where it belongs. George, don't you dare! Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray will be back next week in another exciting comedy adventure in the Gay New Series, Bright Star. This is Wendell Niles inviting you to join us then.