 That's the theme from the Sears Radio Theatre. Tonight, a program of love and hate with Cicely Pison as your hostess. Here's a preview. Mr. Travis is not a fair man. You really don't like him, do you? What I think is not important. But it was your father who said that Mr. Travis has changed. What do you mean? That he cares only about money, not about people. The Sears Radio Theatre will begin after this message from your local station. This is Cicely Pison. Almost all of us enjoy a half-hidden, romantic image of a place where we'd like to live. Idealized and free of the stress and pressure of our everyday world. We think how nice it would be to go home to that particular time and place in our imagination. But for every winter, listening to the soft voice of the minister as he finished reading the eulogy. Coming home had been only pain. It had been a sad time, a hard time. And they were burying her father. It was hard for her to believe that big Jim Winters was gone. She felt tears as she looked around the circle of people who had come to the service. Some of them she remembered from the time she was growing up in Alderson. Others were strangers to her. Then she said it was over. And people came by saying small things to her. And then drifting on to their waiting cars. Are you all right, Anthony? Don't. Yes, I'm fine. You look kind of pale. Well, what are we all doing here? The big Jim Winters I knew was gone. My father knew how much we loved him. He wanted standing in the rain to prove it. No, he wouldn't. But there are certain obligations we all have, Anthony. And this is one of them. And it's over and done. Now I want to get back to Los Angeles. I have to get back. Is there something that important? It may sound silly to you, Doc, but it's a script. If I'm not available when the producers want me for the final rewrite, I'll go to another writer. That'd be six months' work that I'd wasted. Three days ago, Abby Winters had driven up to Alderson from Los Angeles to handle the arrangements for her father's funeral. And finally it was over. At that moment in time, Abby Winters couldn't imagine the turns her life would take because of her trip home. And that's only the beginning of our story. The Sears Radio Theatre, a new adventure in radio listening. Five nights of exceptional entertainment every week. Brought to you in Elliott Lewis' production of The Sears Radio Theatre. Our story, A Matter of Priorities by Norman McDonald. Our stars, Peggy Weber and Vic Perron. The Sears Radio Theatre is brought to you by Sears Roebuck & Company. Sears, where America shops for value. She has decided to return to Los Angeles. All her interests are there. Her friends, her work. Only few things stand between her and her departure. When the services were over, I drove back to our house with Maria Paz sitting quietly beside me. She had come to the Willows ten years ago as a young housekeeper. And as the years passed, she'd become a part of the family. She was perhaps my only close friend in Alderson. Last year when Dad had his first heart attack, she had nursed him through the bad times with love and affection. Our house, the Willows, looked lonely and sad. It's white paint, gray in the failing light. After a moment, Maria and I walked inside. It was a nice service. Your father would have liked it. Yes, I think so. Well, tomorrow morning, I want to talk to Bob Spain and see what we're going to do about selling the house. And you and I have to talk about what you're going to do. I'd be fine. You mustn't worry about me. Can I arrange with you to stay on at the house until it's sold? Of course. I'd want to. What about Rafael? Have you two set a date yet? Not much yet. Six months ago, you could hardly wait to get married, you know. But, well, there are some problems. What do you mean, problem, please? I don't want to talk about it now. Oh, I'm sorry, Maria. It's just that I worry about you, that's all. I'd get it. We didn't hear your car, John. Won't you come in? Let me pick your coat, Mr. Travis. I can't stay, Maria. Thank you. I just stopped by to see if there's anything I could do for you, Abby. Oh, it was nice of you, John, but there is nothing. What are your plans, Abby? Is there anything I can help you with? No, I don't think so, John. I'm seeing Bob Spain in the morning. Your paper's to sign, and I have to arrange about selling the house. I'll be sorry to see this house sold. You know, the day your father made me manager of the station, we had quite a celebration, right in this room. I remember. That was about 15 years ago, wasn't it? More like 20. Your dad and I were very close. I know you were. Abby, if you're thinking of selling KEG, I know some people who'd be very interested. Well, I haven't really thought about it, John. I'll know more about it after I've talked to Bob tomorrow. Hmm. He's a good young attorney. He'll give you sound advice. Well, I just like to get everything settled and get back to Los Angeles. Well, we'll talk before you leave. Of course. Good night, Abby. Maria? You know, I can't help feeling a little sorry for John Travis. I don't know why. In one of dad's last letters, he said that Travis was trying to head up a syndicate to buy the station. Dad turned him down. But that didn't end it. Even during the time your father was so sick, John Travis kept pushing you to sell the radio station. He even asked me to help convince the senior. Oh, that's pretty unfair. Mr. Travis is not a fair man. You really don't like him, do you, Maria? What I think is not important. But it was your father who said that Mr. Travis has changed. What do you mean? That he cares only about money now, not about people. Your father always hoped that you would stick here in Alderson and run the radio station if something happened to him. Yes. But I don't know the first thing about radio and besides, I don't want to live here in Alderson. Not now. Well, if you do sell the radio station, just don't let it go to John Travis and his friends. Well, why do you say that? Maria, never mind like. Just remember your father was against it. I was sitting in Bob Stain's office, only half listening as he reviewed my father's will and some of the other papers. I found myself thinking back to the days at Alderson High when I'd been madly in love with Bob. He was so wise and so grand and I idolized him. But that was all some 10 or 12 years ago. Now he was a very business-like attorney who was running his father's firm. So selling the house won't be a problem, Abby. It should go quickly and for a good price. You may still have to make a couple of trips up here. Well, that's not a problem. I can do that. Now, the radio station, that's another matter. If you're really interested in selling, we'll put it in the hands of a good broker. Well, I think that's what we should do. Selling makes sense, Abby, unless you want to stay here in Alderson and run it. No, I've thought about that. That's not true. The station was a labor of love for your father. Never showed much profit. What there was, he plowed back into it. I'm surprised. I always thought it did quite well. For some people it did. They made out like bandits. I don't understand. I think the last straw for your father was when Travis got his wife a new mink coat for a number of free plugs on the air. If you'd give time away instead of selling it, the station makes no profit. Bob, if I do sell K.G., what kind of money are we talking about? I think it would go for eight, 900,000. That's an awful lot of money. And there's a lot against it. After taxes you might come out with 50,000. Well, that's still more money than I've seen in a long time. But don't spend it yet. Let's get the machinery going first. Another half hour and we've finished up the business for the day. Bob asked me to join him for lunch tomorrow on his houseboat down at the Delta. He said he'd pick me up at noon. When I pulled up in front of the willows, I noticed a battered pickup truck by the kitchen door. A young man walked toward me. Miss Winters? Rafael, aren't you? Yes. Haven't seen you in quite a while. How are you? Fine, thank you. I'm very sorry about your father. He was a good man. Yes, he was. Are you waiting for Maria? She's not at the house. I thought she'd be with you. No, I've been in town all morning. When I left, Maria said she had an errand to run, but I thought she'd be back by now. It's very strange. She's not here. She knew I was coming so we could make plans for tomorrow. Well, do you want to come in and wait? She shouldn't be too long. Oh, no, I don't think so, Miss. I have to get back. But if you would please tell her I'll see her tomorrow. Of course. A note from Maria on the hall table. She had to go to Kingsford on personal business. There was nothing more. No explanation. No mention of Rafael. But why to Kingsford? It was an unattractive industrial town, bigger than Alderson, but cold and unfriendly. Bob picked me up mid-morning. And as we drove toward the Delta, I had my first chance to really see Alderson again. The air was warm and fresh, and there was the feel of country about it. I had to admit, it was a nice part of California. In 20 minutes, we'd arrived at the marina, where Bob kept his house both to 60s. And the minute I saw her, I fell in love. She was a miniature Mississippi River packet, complete down to the smallest detail. No wonder Bob was so proud of her. After a short tour, it took me up to the doll-sized pilot house, which he had converted into a bar. We sat on the deck with our martinis, looking out at the sun-splashed rivers, slowly moving past the dock. I guess you can tell what my one love is. She's wonderful. Where in the world did you find her? Oh, I didn't find her. I built her. She what? Well, actually, a young fella from a local boatyard, and I did the work. We put her together from the hull up, his brains and my muscle. And your money? Well, yeah. All the years I've known you, Bob. I never knew you were a steeper in math. Oh, I'm hardly that happy. I guess I take the sixpence out a couple of times at the most. I just like it as a place to get away. It's quiet, and people don't bother me here. You truly are happy living here in Alderson, aren't you? Yes, I think I am. I like this part of the country. I have the feeling you think I was wrong for living down so. No, people should go where they want. Do what they want. Hollywood seems to have the things you need. If I were a really successful writer, I could live wherever I wanted, and they could come to me. But I'm still at the bottom of the ladder. And I have the meetings and the phone calls and the cocktail parties that are obligatory for a beginner. The only way they know I'm alive. I'm not sure I'd like that sort of life. No, there's no question of liking it. It's the way you survive. And I must admit, in a funny way, it's all very exciting. I guess. You ready for a freshener? I shouldn't, but yeah, I will. Do you have time for a social life down there? I mean one that's outside the business world? Some. You don't say, or anything like that? I don't have no fiance. Good friend. That's the Tom Cameron you've talked about. No. Don't look so disapproving. He's not a roommate. Well, it's not of my affair anyway. No, it's not. It's funny. Since high school, I've only seen you at Christmas or Thanksgiving or some special occasion when you've driven up to stay at the Willows. What's the feeling that you belong here in Alderson? I just got through explaining why I have to live down south. I know you did, but somehow the traffic, the smog, the hassle, it just seems to me you could write here and go down south only for a special business meeting. No, it's not that easy. You sure you're not complicating it? It really should be a simple matter of priorities. Without having them, you could find yourself in trouble. Here, you're beginning to sound like an attorney. Or an old friend. Or whatever you'd like, Gabby. Bob somehow managed a marvelous picnic lunch complete with ham sandwiches, cheese, pickles, hard-boiled eggs, potato chips and cold beer. He sat in the shaded stern of the 16th and talked about the old days in Alderson and the people we'd known and how people's lives were controlled by a number of pressures. Some inside and some right outside ourselves. And as we talked and laughed the afternoons slipped away, Bob was great company and I was more relaxed than I'd been in weeks. I found myself wondering if I was falling in love with Bob's being for the second time. It was almost dark when I got back to the Willowers. Hello? It's me, Maria. Where are you? What are you doing there? Everyone's worried about you, Maria. Well, that's why I'm calling. I'm fine. There is no problem. Maria, you're not telling me what's going on. There's something wrong and I can tell. Please, Preciosa. I'd be here just two days and then I'd be home. Tell me the truth, Maria. You're in some kind of trouble. Please? I want to know where you are because I'm going to drive out and get you. Oh, but you can't figure it out. Maria, you give me the address. If I do, you must not tell anyone else. Who, right? Especially Rafael. You must not tell him. The address Maria had given me in Canisterd was a seedy boarding house. But right now, she wasn't there. The landlady told me she'd gone to the tip-top club to meet someone. The club was dark and dirty and smelled of stale humanity. A gathering place for ranch hands and migrant farm workers who could afford a beer or two. Maria was sitting alone at one end of the bar. I walked across and sat down beside her. This stool taken abby. Now, would you mind telling me just what you're doing in a place like this? Well, I have to meet someone. He told me to be here. Who? What kind of person sets up a meeting in a rundown honky-tonk bar? A man that I talked to? What man? Come on. Level with me, Maria. I can't tell you any more than that. Maria. You're pregnant. That is. Oh, please. You're pregnant. Well, I should have known that. Yes. And, uh, man, you're going to meet his doctor? I think so. God, Maria. Maybe you're old enough to know better. This is no way to handle it. There's some quack in the back room. I guess not. But I was afraid. Afraid of what? Telling, Maria? Yes. Why, Maria, would you be afraid, Maria? Because... because it wasn't Maria. What are you talking about? It was somebody else. Who? I can't tell you. I can't tell anybody. Yes, you can. Ma'am, who was it? Tell me. John Travis. Who? Yes. It's been your Travis. You are my handkerchief. Yes, please. You want to tell me how it happened. See, Travis, was at the winnows a lot when your father was for sick. And after Mr. Winnows was in bed for the night, Mr. Travis would come and sit in the kitchen with me and talk. And it was nice. Because I was very sad. And I was lonely. You don't have to tell me now. We talked about... he talked about Mrs. Travis and that she was an invalid. And he was lonely too. And more like he... he is just... Well, I know one thing. The place for you is at the willows and not here. Oh, but what if I... First thing tomorrow morning, you and I are going in to see Doc Fields. We'll take the rest of the problems as they come. Dr. Fields? What if he comes to my office, Abby? Sit down. How is she? She okay? Maria Paz is about a healthy young woman as I've examined for a long time. I wish she'd come to me a little sooner, but no matter, she's fine. And I want to see her again in two weeks, Abby. I'll have her here. I asked her about Raphael, and she didn't say too much. No. No definite plan for marriage, she says. No date yet. Well, that's what I understand. This isn't Raphael's baby, is it? Maria will have to tell you that, Doc. Oh, sure. Well, you're acquiring quite a family, Abby, as if she stays on at the willows. She will. What will this do to your plans of selling the house? I hadn't thought about it to tell the truth. Why don't you talk it over to some old friend like Bob Spain, maybe? Doc, you're a snoopy old gossip, but I love you. In the legal sense, Maria was a consenting adult. There's no basis for a rape action. Oh, Maria doesn't want that. Neither do I. Now, remember, this is all strictly confidential. I've been nearly trying to find out where we stand. It's very simple. Maria's going to have a baby, John Travis' is. That's all there is to it. Unless Maria's still thinking of abortion. No, she's not. Not anymore. She's going to stay with me at the willows until the baby's born. What about the young man, Raphael? That's going to be a problem. But I think I can handle it when the time comes. Abby, from what you've told me, the baby isn't due for five months, maybe six. That's right. She's about three months pregnant according to Dr. Fields. What's all this going to do to your plans for selling the willows? Well, I just have to take it off the market. I'm not going to have a bunch of brokers running through the house at a time like this. And the radio station, what about that? You said that would move very slowly anyway, so just tell your friends down south not to push it. This is all a big turnaround from a few days ago. Well, the situation is different than it was a few days ago. Abby, all I'm asking is if you've thought what all this might do to your career. You sound like my agent. Dr. Fields told me you had a deadline to meet with some producers. Dr. Fields, the biggest gossip in all... business. There are always other scripts and other producers? Well, I don't know anything about your business, but it seems to me that this isn't the time to walk out on what could be a great opportunity. It isn't the time to walk out on Maria Paz, either. Bob, either I'm a good writer or I'm not. Other things will come along, and in the meantime, it's as you told me a matter of priority, including acts of a matter of priority. It was easy when I drove slowly back to the Willows with a thousand problems racing through my mind. Standing at the Willows until the baby was born would play a hell with my schedule down south. I'm trying to make sure that Maria stayed on the correct routine of a prospective mother and wondering just how I was going to get Rafael and Maria together and what I really wanted to do with the house. Well, it was all just a bit much. I was feeling sorry for myself when I pulled up in front and entered the Willows. Abby? Ah, it's good to see you. Well, what in the world are you doing here? I flew up to Los Angeles to get you, to drive home with you. Oh, this is wonderful. But the thing is, I'm not sure how soon I'll be going back. There have been a lot of changes since I called you the other night. I may not be going back south for quite a while for several months. Several months? Well, as I say, a lot of things have changed. Yes, but several months. Well, that's ridiculous. Look, we can talk about all this later. I'm old for a drink. How about you? For a while, I was afraid you'd turn into a teetotaler. I guess you've already had one or two. A couple at LAX to get up my courage. A couple on the plane so I wouldn't lose it. Up the rebels! Miss Reiner, I put Mr. Cameron in two cases in the castle. Thank you, Maria. And what about supper? Will you be out or shall I pick something here? My dear girl, we'll be going out. A few drinks here and then Miss Winters and I shall do the town. I'm not sure you can do all this. Well, anyway, we're going out to dinner, Maria. Yes, sir. Maria? Yes? Are you all right? I'm fine. Thank you. Well, real sweetie, that Maria. Yeah, she is. Well, we're ahead here, I might as well freshen this. You may not make it to dinner, Tom. Oh, don't you worry about me. Now, come here. Sit down. I want to talk to you. I mean, just going to like the party. Yeah, it's really nice to have a fire this time of year. Abby, you've been here three weeks. Now, surely all the business has been taken care of by now. My father's funeral here and a lot of other things. Well, I didn't mean to seem unfeeling, Abby. It's just that you'd plan to be here only a week or ten days at the outside. Yeah, I know that was the plan. But things have changed. I told you that before. What things? Oh, I can't tell you. I don't want to go into it now. Well, I damn well think you'd better. Now, you ought to me. There's some kind of explanation. Don't use that macho approach on me, Tom. It will work. All right, I'm sorry, Abby. It's just that I don't understand all this. Do you really like it here in Alderson? Whether I like Alderson or not has nothing to do with my having to stay here. All right, all right. Don't get mad. I'm just tired, I guess. I'm sorry. Excuse me, Miss Wheeler. I thought if there was nothing you needed, I'd go on up to my room. Oh, no, I don't... Well, yes, there is, as a matter of fact, yes. Could you make a big pot of coffee and some sandwiches? Is that too much trouble, Maria? No, of course not. Maybe some of the gorgeous things ought to be wonderful. Thank you. What's this big deal about sandwiches? We'll have another drink and then I'm taking you out to dinner. Well, maybe it's just better to sit here in front of a fire. But Tom didn't want coffee and sandwiches. He wanted another drink and he wanted to talk about us. He said he knew what a problem his whole thing had been for me, but went on to say that one has to be practical. Some things you just have to put behind you. Now it was time for me to get back to Hollywood and to working life. I didn't need a garble lecture from Tom at this point. But Tom, why don't you just go to bed? What? I think we've all had enough to drink. Now, why don't you just go on to bed? Uh, you're coming with me? No, Tom, don't be juvenile. Now, good night. I might lose my way. Tom, please. I'm happy I need you. Tom, I'm in no mood for a drunken grabbing affair. That's right. I don't want to be left alone. Okay, okay. I might just go to bed. Good. And we can discuss this in the morning. All right, Tom. However, Abby, I think your attitude stinks. Help me stick camera in someone's juice and coffee earlier. Probably a good thing he may have saved his life. If that means drunk, yes, he was. Good morning. Well, good morning. Maria and I are just finishing breakfast. Would you like something? No, no, thank you. I'm fine. Um, you cut yourself shaders. Abby, listen to me. I'm going to head back to Los Angeles today, and I want to know if you were coming with me. No. I'm not sure you understood me. Perfectly simple, Tom. You are going, and I am staying. I'm saying that if you don't come with me now... I know what you're saying, Tom. And still I'm staying. I did a great deal of thinking last night, and the best thing in the world is for you to go now. Abby, I... Maybe I'll see you in town sometime. Goodbye, Tom. What I really need, Bob, what I want are the papers on the radio station. The papers? Abby, I don't really know what you're after. I want to see the profit and loss statements and the cash flow and the personnel list. I want to see the whole works. Can you read them? Maybe not yet, but I'll learn. The way I see it, Bob, if I'm going to run the station, I better know something about it. If you're going to run the station, is that what you said? That's right. Does that mean you're going to stay in Alderson that you've made up your mind? Yes, I have. I will never figure you out, Abby Winters. I had a chance to do a lot of thinking last night. Trying to sort out a whole parcel of values, it wasn't easy. I must admit I had some help from an old friend. Maria? No, not Maria. But this friend helped clarify a lot of things for me. I don't think he knew it at the time. Abby, let's get back to the station. What are you going to do? Well, I'm not sure what ought to come first, but I know what I'm going to do first. Fire John Travis. Fire Travis? Like a shot. He's a little crook milking the cream off the station's office. Well, he was one of your father's oldest friends. If dad were alive today, he'd horse whip Travis from here to Sacramento. Travis is rotten, so let's don't even discuss it. He goes. Okay, he goes, but I hope you know what you're doing. I've arranged a meeting for this afternoon with Travis. As my attorney, I'd like you to be there. All right. And we might as well have lunch first, because there are a lot of things I have to go over with you. Oh, you are a dynamo when you get started. Sink or swim. And what does your Chum Tom Cameron think of all this? Now, don't start taking cheap shots at a time like this. Let's eat. The meeting, John, isn't going to take long. Well, whatever the problem is, Abby, I'm sure we can solve it. You're right. As owner of KEG, I'm asking for your resignation effective immediately. Your what? I don't want you running my father's station. My station any longer. I've been manager of KEG for 15 years. And you've turned into a cheap cook, John. Now, just a damn second, Abby. You can't come in here. Oh, you haven't done anything illegal. But you've been feathering your nest at the station's expense. I don't know what you're talking about. KEG is one of the best operated small stations in the state. Isn't it strange, then, that the net profits are so poor? I've gone over the station's books with Miss Winters, and we have a pretty good idea of just how much you pocketed. I don't understand the radio business too well yet. But I know you can't make money if spots are given away instead of souls. Now, look, Abby, all station managers handle some trade-outs. It's perfectly normal practice. It's even good business. Well, I don't care what all station managers do, John. We're talking about KEG, and you've abused your position, and you're through. Liz Burton will handle your severance and whatever fringe benefits are due you. We'll expect your resignation letter to be on Mr. Spain's desk within 24 hours. If you can't just toss me out this way, I'll take it to court. I wouldn't try to fight it, Mr. Travis. You're gonna lose. We're on firm legal ground. Well, I think everything Finn said. Come on, Bob. Oh, John, before you start phoning attorneys and talking too much, I think you ought to know Maria Paz is back at the Willows. She'll stay there with me until she has had the baby. I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. I think you do, John. A paternity suit wouldn't help your image too much. Is this some kind of blackmail? No, not at all. I'm just advising you that we could invoke the morals clause in your contract and drag it all out into the open. But... What happens to everything? To the station, to me? The station will manage quite nicely. Bob has already talked with Liz Burton about acting as manager in the meantime. And there'll be other adjustments. How do I explain this to Mrs. Travis, to people? What do I say? I have no idea, John. You can do or say whatever you want. Bob, you can't let her do this to me. She's already done it. But as the station's attorney... I am acting for the owner. So you should have your desk cleared and empty by the end of the week. Erby. Goodbye, John. There was someone I had to talk to, but I wanted to do it alone. I dropped Bob at his office after promising to have dinner with him later. It took me a while, but I finally found the Stockton Ranch where Raphael Garcia worked. With the help of a cowboy who was driving an enormous digital tractor, I found Raphael over by one of the feed barns, and I walked over to him. Miss Winters, I didn't expect to see you here. Well, it was important that I come out, Raphael. It's about Maria. Is she sick? She hurt? No. No, she's not sick. What is it then? Maria is a very gentle, wonderful person, and she loves you very much. Yes, I think I know that. And right now, she needs you, Raphael. Why don't you tell me what's wrong? Is she in trouble? She thinks she is. She made a mistake, Raphael, and that's why she needs you. I'll go to see her now. Thank you. I watched him run across to Dusty Carell and told the bunkhouse where his pickup was parked, and I had the feeling that somehow things were going to be all right. On the way home, I stopped in Alderson and picked up a couple of bottles of good wine and some imported cheese that I knew Bob liked. At the Willows, Maria and Raphael were so deep in conversation, they didn't hear me walk into the kitchen, and I said hello. I'm sorry. I don't want to interrupt. I know you two have a lot of talking to do. Yes, sir. We want to thank you, Miss Winters. Well, I've got to meet Mr. Spain for dinner, so I'll say good night. Good night. And by the way, Maria, don't wait up for me. I have the feeling I might be terribly late. Everything works out perfectly. At least we think it has. Pour more wine and don't be a pessimist. Oh, I'm not. I just hope there'll be no regrets now that you've burned your bridges, now that you're staying in Alderson. No regrets. It's probably the wisest decision I'll ever make. Well, you've taken on quite a load of responsibilities. Maria, Raphael, the baby, and then there's the radio station. And there's me. That's fine. That's all just fine with me. Can you know something? What? It's very nice to be home. Your theater has been brought to you by Sears Robot & Company, where our policy is, satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back. Sears, where America shops for fashions. A matter of priorities was written by Norman MacDonald, produced and directed by Fletcher Marshall. Your hostess was Cicely Tyson. Our stars were Peggy Weber and Vic Perron. Also heard were Byron Kane, Virginia Gregg, Drew Boardman, Jack Carroll, and Don Diamond. The music for Sears Radio Theater was composed and conducted by Nelson Riddle, Mark Gilmour's people. The Elliott Lewis production of Sears Radio Theater is a presentation of CDI.