 Family Theater presents Eleanor Powell and David Janssen. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network and Cooperation with Family Theater presents Little Church of the Ambush, starring David Janssen. And now here's your hostess, Eleanor Powell. Thank you, Tony LaFranco. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, Little Church of the Ambush, starring David Janssen. An ordinance was passed last week in a town I live in. I guess you could call it an ordinance. At any rate, it was a decision by the city fathers to restore a certain building. One you've probably never seen, though you might have driven through our town a hundred times. And for the building that it is, it has some pretty strange bedfellows, gin mills, warehouses, outlet stores and pawn shops, bowling alleys and penny arcades. And less than a block away, the theater that serves off and on is the city's only burlesque house. You see, it's on Gossett Avenue, a main street turned skid row since the days when the town was young and the building was first put up. But if you came to visit some relative or friend here, it's about two to one that you wouldn't get away without having a look at the building that city residents call the Little Church of the Ambush. Of course, it's been known by other names, the church that John Dade built, Church of the Wrath of God. And once an itinerant preacher said, it ought to be called the Church of St. Peter of the Sword, reminiscent of that night in Gethsemane when Peter drew his sword and cut off the ear of one of the men who'd come to take Christ. To know just why it has so many strange names and why our city fathers deem it worthy of restoration even though it isn't city property and isn't even used as a parish church anymore, you'd have to go back. Back to the time when this town was called Shotgun and consisted of little more than one street and had no church at all. And thanks largely to the efforts of a man named John Dade, no one who might build a church. Till one spring morning when the stage came into town pulled up in front of the Wells Fargo office and dismounted its passenger before the astonished eyes of one out of this and saw green hall. Into the line for you Padre, this is Shotgun. Well, thank you. And so as you can't say Wells Fargo delivered you into the hands of strangers, them two fellers standing there with their mouths hank and opened like they'd never seen a priest before or saw a green hall and one alvarist. Boys, this is Padre Francis. How do you do? Padre? Howdy. Sam, he's just passing through. He's staying. One take the man's possibles. See? Oh no, it's all right. I can take them. Please permit me Padre. Did you tell him about Shotgun, Sam? You mean did I tell him about John Dade? Hey, let me get down off this box. The answer is yes. That true? That's true, all right. And you came here anyway? Mr. You're crazy. That's what I told him. Well, maybe if I could talk to this John Dade. Oh, Padre, it would do no good. Mr. I'd like to give you a friendly piece of advice. Get on that stage and find yourself another town. Well, thank you, but I'm afraid I can't do that. Why not? Company will trust you for the fair. Well, thank you very much for my bishop sent me here to build a church. Padre, perhaps the bishop does not know that there is a man here who will not let the church be built. Seems to me like a terrible waste. How long you have to study for your priesthood, son? Nine years. But certainly you've got some law enforcement agency. A sheriff? Oh, we got a sheriff all right. Well, maybe if I went to talk to him. Oh, I wouldn't do that Padre. No, sir, not by a long shot. No, Padre. You better take him over to the hotel, Juan. Juan? Si, Padre. There are no churches in this town. I mean of any kind. No, Padre. Some men have come to build them. But what? Most of them, this John Day drives away. Some here are skilled. But why? Padre, I do not ask a mad dog why he bites. I just keep away. Maybe he's a loco hombre, Padre. Maybe he just hates God. This way. Well, there must be a reason. Juan, why shouldn't I go see the sheriff? Because Padre, the sheriff, is John Day. Father Francis took a room in the hotel. And after washing off the dust of the journey, went into the lobby to read his brievery, the hour of daily scriptural reading required of a priest. He had no more subtle in his chair when he had a visitor. You, you're there. Are you talking to me? I'm talking to you. My name's John Day. I've heard about you. And you probably heard I'm a sheriff here in Shotgun. Of that, among other things? It's the sheriff's job to talk to strangers who come to our little town, mister. Especially what you might call undesirable strangers. You're a minister, aren't you? I'm a Catholic priest. Priest minister. Well, does that make me an undesirable stranger? Depends on what your plans are. Well, I've been instructed to build a church here. And that's what I'm going to do. That's just fine. You know what I'm going to do for you? What? I'm going to let you live till tomorrow morning. Let me live. The next stage out of town is tomorrow at daybreak. Be on it unless you think you can hold services in a pine box. But why? What have you got against it? I'm not going to argue with you or your kind. I'm doing you a favor. And if you don't think so, you can ask anyone in town. When that stage leaves, be on it. Understand? I'm afraid I can't take your advice. Take it, Padre, please. Why are you sneaking around again? I just happened to come into your dead. I meant no harm. Well, you'd better stay out of this one. Say, Padre. No. Come closer. Closer. All right, that's far enough. Now, I just want to show you how brave you some singing friends of yours can be. What was it you called yourself, a priest? That's right. Señor Dei. You know what this is? Yes? It's a revolver. And you're looking right down the barrel of it. Now, are you going to be on that daybreak stage? Well, speak up. But I can't. Can't speak? That's too bad. I mean, I can't leave town. I have to do what I came to do. Padre, be reasonable. He will kill you. Not till tomorrow morning. That's right. Looks like you'll have to wait all morning to see him run, Juan. I promised in the night, didn't I, stranger? You did. Get out of here, Juan. I said, get out. Maybe it's better this way anyhow. You'll have the rest of the day and all night to pray for a mirror. But I can tell you now, the only one you're going to get will be the stage tomorrow morning. Is that all? That's all. Now you can get back to your book. Oh, one other thing. Yes? If you're foolish, if you don't take the stage, wear a gun. Father Francis just sat there for a few minutes. Then after a time, he took out his handkerchief, mopped his forehead in hands, and picked up his bravery again. And though he formed the many hundreds of words with his lips, two verses of the office of the day kept repeating themselves in his mind. Hear me, oh, Lord, for thy mercy is kind. Look upon me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, and turn not away thy face from thy servant folk. I am in trouble. Hear me speedily. Then when he had finished, he put the book in his pocket and went out to begin his work. Well, frankly, Father Francis, I don't know. I've heard stories. Some say his first killing was a minister and that he was hanged for it, but his friends cut him down in time. I don't know why he's the way he is. I just don't know, unless he's like Juan Alvarez says, he's just plain local, Father. Why do you people put up with him? Put up with him? Because I suppose there's not a man in town fast enough to put him down if you want the long and short of it. But, Mr. Attool, do you think you should raise your children? I know, I know. Not by bread alone and all that, but I'll tell you something, Father. Not by the spirit alone do you raise a family. This little store of mine's not much, but we do a fair business with the ranchers hereabouts, and the railroad's talking about coming to shotgun. If this town turned into a shipping point, it'd grow like thunder and us with it. Well, getting back to what we were first talking about, Mr. Attool. Yeah, the money, I remember, you need money to build a church. That's right. Well, that brings us to a delicate point, Father. What good is money to a dead man? That's it. Look, Father, I'm a Catholic, so naturally I'd be tickled to death to have a Catholic church here in Shotgun. But you think others might be against it? Oh, not even a little bit, just the opposite. Saul Greenhall, Miles Abernathy, Sutton Wells, Wesley Smith, every single one of them would love to see your church go up. And as far as I know, none of them's Catholic. And I'll tell you why they'd like to see your church go up. It's because it'd mean, well, it'd mean freedom of worship and come back to shotgun. It'd mean somebody'd finally gotten the best at John Dade, and that there'd be other churches here. And I'll swear that every single one of them would contribute to your building fund. You mean after John Dade was beaten? Wouldn't it have to be that way? If you want my opinion, Father, you take Dade's advice, leave town for a while, and then maybe you can sit tight and come back after, well, after a faster gun has come to town. Sit tight. If he said he'd kill you, Father, you can be sure he'll keep his word, barring miracles, that is. Well, thanks for your help, Mr. O'Toole. Wait. Yes? You're bound and determined to stay? I have to. Yeah, I know, from the Alvobedians and all that. Well, look, Father, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you're still, if you'll come around tomorrow evening, I'll have something for your fund. Well, thank you, Mr. O'Toole. And? And I'll help with the building, too, anything you want. I couldn't ask for more, Mr. O'Toole, unless maybe your prayers. You've got them, Father. You've got them. Let me finish putting his shoe on his cow, Miles Abernathy thinks he's a horse, and we can talk here. I ought to hold it. Well, Reverend, that's what I'm supposed to call you. Father is the usual term. Oh, Father is it. Seems a little funny, man. My age's calling a man your age, Father, but that's the way you want it. No, I'm not of your faith. Fact is, I'm not sure I'm of any particular faith, but I believe that a man should be allowed to practice any faith he chooses, so I'll sure enough throw in with you. Blacksmiths don't make a whole lot, but I'm a good man with a hammer, and I've got a couple of sons I can throw in, too. The three of us would be the closest things to carpenters you'd find here in Shotgun. Well, I certainly appreciate it. I hope you get the chance. You don't think I've got much for chance, do you? Son, I mean, Father, I wouldn't be in your boots for a nugget the size of that anvil, but I admire your spunk, I'll say that much. Well, it's getting too dark to work, I gotta go supper. You're more than welcome to partake with me, but it'll have to be quick. I'm going to a meeting a little later. Well, thanks, but we'll make it another time, Mr. Grace. You've been very kind. Well, not at all. You haven't seen Sol Greenhall yet. Not yet. I know for a fact he wants to see you. He told me to have you drop round. Well, I'll go see him after supper. No, I'd make it now. He won't be there later. He's going to the same meeting as me. You go see him now. I think you'll be glad you did. He owns a hardware store, you know what that is. Next to the Wells Fargo on it. That's a place. Good luck. Well, thank you, Mr. Graves. I hope you get something to thank me for, Father. So do I, Mr. Graves, so do I. Oh, Father. Oh, yes? You come through this and we'll build your God the best-looking house inside of St. Louis. Night. Good night. Build him the best-looking house this side of St. Louis. I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house. And the place where thy glory dwelleth. Take not away my soul, O God, with the wicked and my life with men of blood. And whose hands there are iniquities. How many people have you talked to, Father? I mean, beside Dade. You all heard about that. How many? About 15 to 20, Mr. Green, huh? About that? Why didn't you come to me earlier? Is it because I'm of a different faith, Father? Is that it? No. This morning you didn't seem particularly friendly. If you wanna know the real reason, I suppose that's it. Unfriendly? All right, maybe I did seem that way. I was sorry to see you come. I'm sorry you're here and you know why. I think I do now. Same reason as everybody else. We don't wanna see you killed and there's a thoroughly evil man here who will not be satisfied until you are. You aren't leaving town? No, I can't. I know, I know. In fact, I know more about your faith than you think. Little children, I tell you, love one another. Be kind to them that hate you. Turn the other cheek. And I know too that a priest may not spill blood, but according to the law of your own church, you have a right to self-defense. Isn't that so? Yes, Mr. Greenheart, that's so. This father is a hardware store. Because you seem a worthy young man and because I'd like to see you build your church so that my neighbors might enjoy it, I give you anything you want in the way of hardware. Mr. Greenheart, I'm grateful, believe me, I am. But you're going to turn the other cheek? Well, have I really a choice? Look at it this way. It cost your superiors a lot to train you. You do them a disservice to be suddenly taken a martyr. I agree. Mr. O'Toole tells me that Dade is a fast man with a gun. Mr. Greenheart, even if I wanted to, I've never even fired a revolver. I can't kill a man in cold blood and I could never beat him. So he'd have to draw first so that you could be sure of his intentions? Even considering his past performance? Well, I suppose it does sound a little strange. But I can't out-guess God. A man must be true to the letter of his beliefs. Do you understand? I think I do. Maybe O'Toole is right. Maybe it'll take a miracle to... Wait a minute. Come over here, Father. What's this? It's a derringer. Moral ladies' weapon or a gambler's gun. But it might be just the miracle you need. You could hold it behind your beretta. Fire when he starts his draw. Two shots could do it. One is enough to turn a man completely around. Well, I don't know. Can't found it, man. You're of a right to self-defense. Oh, right. Yes, but I don't think I could do it. All right, all right. Nothing else I can do. I'm sorry. You're sorry. I'm sorry. Shotgun will be sorry. I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. Mr. Graves said you had to go to some meeting. I've taken up enough of your time. There's something else. What is it? The others tell me what they are willing to do for your building campaign, if you live. Yes. At the end of the street, there's a walnut tree. Yes. I own the land that tree grows on. If you... Well, I mean you can have that land to build on if you want, all right. Go out and look it over tomorrow morning. Will you do that? Yes, I will. No, I'd better go to my meeting. It's important. Oh, what sort of a meeting is it? Oh, it's the first gathering of the Shotgun Civic Betterment League. Good night, Father. In his room at the hotel, Father Francis said his prayers and went to bed, still saying them, afraid and ashamed of his fear. While the Shotgun Civic Betterment League met, the meeting didn't take long. One election was held and the vote was unanimous. One issue was brought up, and after some dickering as to the method of settlement, the issue was decided. Then the meeting was over. An hour after daybreak, the stage arrived in Shotgun and pulled up in front of the Wells Fargo office. Oh, ho! Hello, where is everybody? Any passengers? I don't know if that box says I'm gonna come inside. Have I got any passengers or is that priest fella dead? Well, I gotta tell you, will you, Sam? All right, all right, hold your thunder. Well, where is everybody? Looks like everybody had moved away. Never didn't see a town so quiet. Out of the hotel came Father Francis. He walked out into the street, stopped, and for a long moment looked at the stagecoach and then up the street toward the Walnut Tree, and he continued walking. The stage is that way, holy man. Didn't you hear me? I heard you. I'm not, I'm not taking the stage. Sure, funeral. I know. I'm putting my gun back. If you're armed, you'd better make your play. Well, I'm not, I'm not armed. Don't say I didn't warn you. Do not draw, sir, your day, if you're covered. Who said that? Show yourself. Who is, senor? Juan, you shouldn't have gotten into this. I am not alone, Father. You're breaking the law. No, senor, look around you. As the gunman turned, the men of Shotgun appeared and brought weapons to bear, from the rooftops, from windows, and behind watering troughs, and from prone firing positions under the plank sidewalks. Ambush. We hadn't a leg from last night's date. First one, we done real good. We elected that you would no longer have anything to say about how this town has run. Now the father can build his church. And other churches will come. But you won't be here to see it? I'll be here. Drop your gun belt, Dave. Not by a long shot. There are 20 guns on you now, Dave. From where? I see him. From windows, behind wagons, and horses, around corners. There's not a man here who can stand up to me in a real fight. And no one man here is gonna try to either. We're not playing games. He's the cause of this. You holy man, if you hadn't come to Shotgun, this wouldn't have happened. Well, you're not gonna get away with it. Don't be a fool. Drop your gun. Better do as he says, father. He may still be alive. Well, that's what we're talking about. Dave, John, Dave, can you hear me? Repeat this. Repeat this and mean it. Oh my god, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee. I, having offended thee. Having offended thee. And I detest Dave. He's dead, father. And good riddance. Well, thank you, all of you for my life. It's all right. In a way, I guess we didn't do you any favor, father. We thought John Dave was your problem, and the problem of any priest or minister who happened to come along. He was ours, the town's problem. Maybe you just helped us grow up. That prayer you made him say. The prayer, Mr. Graves, was an act of contrition, a plea for mercy. You mean it might give a man like him a chance at heaven? That's what it's for, Mr. Graves. You did that for a man like him? Well, that's what I'm in the business for, Mr. Graves. The church was built and others followed. Shotgun grew and changed its name to something with a more respectable sound. And even though the parishioners have moved to a newer building now, one not facing on Gosset Avenue, the main street turned skid row. St. Peter's, perhaps better known as the Little Church of the Ambush, will be restored as a historical landmark, which might even serve as a national monument. A reminder that God has given us a way of life worth fighting for and protecting. That as a nation of individuals, we must unite to protect our individual freedoms from those who would deny them from us. This is Eleanor Powell again. February the 17th marks the 59th anniversary of the founding of the Parent Teachers Association in America. In the 59 years of its existence, the PTA has some considerable achievements of which to boast, aiding in the establishment of public kindergarten, establishing scholarships valued in hundreds of thousands of dollars, physical examinations for nearly 3 million preschool children annually, and literally hundreds of other projects important in the education and development of the children of America. I have a dual purpose in bringing all this up. One, of course, is to salute the nearly 10 million members of the PTA and acknowledge a job well done. And the other, well, to point out something else. For whether a child be enrolled in a public school or a private school of his own faith, the basic elements of his love of God, namely instruction, example, and encouragement, must come from his parents. It is the parents who must see to the all important religious instructions. The parents who must set a worthy example and establish good practice if their children are to grow up rich in the love of God. To help in this respect, Family Theater recommends family prayer, setting aside a few minutes each day for the purpose of keeping in close touch with God. It sets an excellent example. It assures the members of a family of God's blessings and something else, too. For the family that prays together, stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, Family Theater has brought you transcribed Little Church of the Ambush, starring David Janssen. Alanor Powell was your hostess. Others in our cast were Marvin Miller, Harry Bartel, Fred Shields, Paul Maxie, and Don Diamond. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by Robert Hugh O'Sullivan, with music composed and conducted by Henry Mancini. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the Mutual Network, which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of state screen and radio who give so unselfishly their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when Family Theater will present. Snare of the Fowler, starring Raymond Burr. Bill Williams is your host. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.