 Family Theater in the moment. But first, an invitation to listen in on Mutual's party line every Saturday night for programs the whole family will enjoy. See if you can spot Jack Bailey's deliberate mix-ups before the contestants on Comedy of Errors. A half hour of hilarity. The favorite parlor quiz, 20 questions, brings the animal, vegetable and mineral game. New sparkle as the experts try to identify Bill Slater's subject in only 20 questions. And Chicago Theater of the Air sends a full hour of your favorite melodies from the world of music, singing your way. For family party night listening, tune to Mutual every Saturday night for Comedy of Errors, 20 questions and Chicago Theater of the Air over most of these stations. Family Theater presents John Lund and Ruth Hussie. The Mutual Network in cooperation with Family Theater presents Ruth Hussie in The Other Glory. To introduce the drama, your host, John Lund. 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. It is the year 1865. The place, some 18 miles outside of Boston. On a determined little train, the special, from Boston to Concord, Massachusetts. There are many passengers on the train, most of them laughing and gay as they anticipate their arrival in a matter of minutes. But huddled in a corner, unaware of the mood around her, sits a young woman. She stares dejectedly into the gathering gloom outside. For Louisa May Alcott, the train wheels are singing no song of homecoming. Instead, they are but a mocking echo of the disturbed thoughts within her. Failure, just a failure, just a failure. Failure, failure, failure, failure. Expect you until tomorrow. Well, there was really little point in my staying any longer in Boston. Oh, these bags get heavier all the time. Oh, Louisa, I am an idiot. Here I stand chattering away and I don't even let you in the door. I'll give you a hand. Thanks. Where are Mother and Father? In the back pile with May. You go and be first then. Just a minute, May. Give Louisa a chance to catch her breath. Sit down here, dear. Your letters were very glowing, Louisa. We enjoyed them every one. Boston never had its praises sung so sweetly. Thank you, Father, but I'm afraid they don't hold a candle to your writing. Oh! Does your new paper go well? Did you really and truly see Mrs. Dawes perform in the theater? Oh, she was splendid, May. And your own play, dear? Yes. How was it received by the producers? Oh, all of Boston is talking about Mrs. Dawes. Oh, it would be wonderful if Mrs. Dawes could be persuaded to perform in your play. Wonderful and highly profitable, too. Do you really suppose they could get her for it, Lou? Well, if I could be the talk of conquered, Mrs. Dawes making your play famous. Now, on the contrary, Mother, the credit goes to Louisa. After all, she wrote the play and had the courage to take it up to Boston and place it all by herself. Well, tell us, Lou. Where is it going to open? Yes. Father, Mother, May, I'm sorry if my letters gave you false hope. It wasn't until this morning that I learned the sad truth. No one's going to produce my play. Oh. And now, if you'll forgive me, I'm tired. Very tired. I'd like to say good night. If you want to, Anna, certainly come in. I hope I'm not disturbing you, Lou. I thought I'd just come up for a moment. They're worried about me downstairs, aren't they? Not really worried. Concerned. But after all, it's only a play. If it didn't work out, there'll be others. Others? Don't you see? I'm 33 years old and I'm a failure. Failure? Oh, Louisa, how can you say that? Why, you had scores of stories published. You've made your own way for 10 years now and helped the family as well. Do you call that a failure? I've done nothing that counts. Since I was a child, I dreamed of the day I could create something, put my pen to paper and tell stories to the world. Stories so fine that everyone would be the richer for them, even me. But you will. Only it takes time, that's all. I don't have any more time. I've come to a decision, Anna. I'm going away. Is that all? We've gone away before. But never so far. This time I'm going to Europe. Europe? I've been offered a job to travel with an invalid lady. Do you really want to go that far away? And leave all of you? No, no I don't. But I've thought about it all the way from Boston. Perhaps maybe abroad I'll find the thing I must discover before I can write what I want to write. The thing that will bring you fame? Yes, fame. Oh, but more than that. The thing that will let me repay father and mother in some small measure for the great love and faith they've given me. But how will you tell them you're going? I don't know, Anna. How can I tell them I'm going halfway across the world just to bring them happiness? Monsieur mademoiselle Holcott, how are you this morning? Oh, splendid, monsieur. Your paris air works miracles. Have you any mail for me? I will see mademoiselle. No, there seems to be nothing. Oh, thank you. Well then, I wonder, could you give me directions, please, for finding the Rue de la Paix? But of course. When you leave the hotel, turn to your right. Cross four streets, then turn to your left. After you have passed three streets, go to your right for two streets, then left again for two streets, and there you are. Oh, yes. Well, thank you very much. Four streets to the right, and then you turn to... Oh, beg your pardon. I hope I have not hurt you. Oh, no, of course not. It was all my fault. Please allow me to apologize. I must confess I was eavesdropping. Otherwise, I should not have been in your way. Eavesdropping? I'm afraid you couldn't have heard anything very interesting. I heard enough to know that you are in grave danger. Of what? Of becoming hopelessly lost. I have never heard such confused directions in my life. You're right. I'm afraid I shall never find the way. But of course you will, for you shall have Ladislas Vesniewski, the most famous guide in Paris to Ligel, with your kind permission. Is that you? Naturally, but you call me Laddie. But are you really a guide? The best, and what is more, the newest. I have just this moment embraced the profession. The job may be more difficult than you bargained for. I speak no French. Then I shall be your voice. And I want to find the most dazzling bonnet in all of Paris. So much the better. Then I shall be the first admirer of it, too. Well, I couldn't possibly ask for more. Very kind to me this afternoon. Without you I certainly would not have seen so much of Paris today. But you have hardly begun. I have a full program planned for you. Days and days worth. You have just arrived in Paris. Surely you are not thinking of leaving so soon? Well, perhaps I was. But now I've changed my mind. You know, I've been away from home for ten months, travelling throughout Europe always as a companion. And now my job is done. And I did promise myself these two months alone in Paris I think I shall keep my promise. But alone. One must never see Paris alone. Please break your promise. Break it? But why? So that you can make a new one. To see Paris with me as your guide for the next two months. Two months? All right, laddie. I promise. And I've read of it, laddie. And now to be here. Look how the sun lights the stained glass windows. It's so beautiful. I hate to leave. We will return if you wish, Louisa. But come, you must see the courtyard. It is the oldest place in Paris. Here. The very stone you stand upon is said to be the heart of Paris. From this spot the city grew. Just think, Notre Dame stood here for more than 600 years. And when it was built, the stone was already centuries old. It makes me feel suddenly very young standing in the midst of so much history. Oh, laddie, you've made Paris into a fairy tale and allowed me to play the princess. Because you are the princess. But sometimes I wish you were less. Then the poor gifts I lay at your feet would perhaps seem greater. There couldn't be a greater gift than the one of friendship you've given me. Louisa, my dear. Oh, that reminds me. There's something I must settle with you right now. Settle with me? Yes. We can't go on the next five weeks as we have. Why? Why? What have I done? Well, it's not what you've done. You haven't kept your promise. Each morning I still find a bouquet of flowers at my door. Now laddie, if you keep on like this, you'll soon be a pauper. Oh, is that all that is worrying you? My extravagance? I should think that would be enough. I won't have you spending all your money on me. Then put away your fears, Louisa. You have my solemn word. I have spent not one shoe for your flowers. Well, then where did you get them? From the public gardens late at night. I decided that no one could enjoy them there in the darkness. So who would mind if I borrowed some to bring to you? Oh, laddie, laddie. Whatever am I going to do with you? Is it possible, laddie, the wait time has flown? It's hard to realize this is my last night in Paris. Must it be, Louisa? Yes, I'm afraid so. There'll be so many beautiful memories like tonight sitting here in this lovely restaurant. I am happy that you like it here. I had saved this for the last celebration. The view from this window, all of Paris spread below us. I shall never forget it. And the same with the night coming on. It looks like an emerald ribbon twining through the shadows of the trees. You see everything so beautifully. You must have been born a writer. What? Oh, no, laddie. When I was young, it was the farthest thought from my mind. I was going to be a great actress. I think you would have been a splendid one. You should have been in my first audience. You would have changed your mind. Who was there? My five severest critics. Your family? Beth was alive then. Let's see. She must have been about six. I was only 17. I remember I had turned the back parlor into a theater and before me sat my audience, mother, father, Anna, and curled up on the floor the two little ones, Beth and May. I had prepared what I thought would be a great treat for them, a monologue from Shakespeare. And what I lacked in subtlety I made up in vigor. Sweet, so would I, and yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet song that I shall say good night till it be moral. You thank you one and all. Now, how did you really like it? Well, was it that I was so overwhelming that none of you can speak? Mother, you've heard me now. Do you think I can hope to be a success as an actress? Well, that's very hard to answer, my dear. Your acting is certainly spirited. No one could deny that. But possibly more spirited than inspired. And you, Father, what do you think? Since you've been a child, Louisa, you've had a way with words. But I must be candid. I think you do better by them when you put them to paper. Why, don't you stick to writing? And you, Anna? I think you'd be great at anything, Lou. You have so much, so much enthusiasm. Enthusiasm. Well, I'll ask the children after all there. Indeed, the most difficult to amuse. Well, May and Beth, don't hang your heads. Speak up. I'm afraid they can't speak up, Louisa. You've put them to sleep. What? Well, well, that settles it then. Father, please get me a new quill tomorrow. Louisa May Alcott is going to become... Well, there's the story. And there you have the Alcotts, laddie. Five reasons why I never became an actress and why I still struggle to be a writer. You miss them very much, don't you? Yes, I do. I've never been away from them a whole year before. I miss their love and faith and their courage. You would never be content to stay here, would you? In Europe? Yes. What would I do in Europe all by myself? Not by yourself, Louisa. With me. Oh, laddie. You can't mean that... I know I have nothing to offer you. It's not that, my dear. You have everything to offer, don't you know that? But it's not for me to accept. Someday, there'll be a fine young girl who's meant to share your life and then you'll smile over this evening. How can I smile? Oh, it's simple. Like this. Now let me see you smile, too. There. That's better. After all, this is my farewell celebration. Are we to do it with a frown? But, Louisa... No, no. No, that's all. There'll be time enough for serious goodbyes at the train tomorrow. Five minutes before you leave. Only five minutes or laddie, we must hurry and get on. No, no, wait a moment, Louisa. Don't you change your mind. I cannot. You know that. Louisa, if you leave now, I know that we shall never meet again. Please, please don't talk like that. Now come, help me with my bags and we should be aboard. Yes, yes. Well, here's my compartment, laddie. Wait, I'll open it for you. Let me put this down. There's just room enough for your bags. I'll set them here above the seat. Oh, no, please. The small hat box. I'll take it down again. I wish to carry it myself. All right, here you are. Thank you. One of your pretty Paris balance inside there. Yes. Is it so valuable that you dare not trust it alone? Yes, that's right. Well, the box is rather heavy for one small hat, Louisa. What are you smuggling out of France? There's a book inside. A book? Do you plan to read on the train? No. No, I shan't read it. I shall look at the flowers, laddie, think of you. I do not understand. They're in the book, pressed between the pages. One from each bouquet you left at my door. And when I return to America, I need only to look at my flowers and see us together. Louisa, no. No, you cannot go. I will not let you... Laddie, please. Why must you go back? Why must you forever struggle for success driven by the ceaseless ambition? Well, it's my life, laddie. If I can ever fulfill that ambition... Don't you understand? There is more to life than just success. That is the kind of happiness that we have had together. You cannot throw this away, Louisa. You must come back to Paris. You must. Goodbye, my dear. I shall never forget you. It is indeed good to see you after all this time. Thank you, Mr. Niles. It has been many months since we two have talked. Please sit down, sit down. Thank you. Now, tell me how long since you've returned. Well, I've just arrived. I haven't even been to Concord yet. I had to stop in Boston to see you because I have a wonderful idea. For more of those charming little stories of yours, I hope? Oh, no, Mr. Niles. This time I pray that Robertson Company will publish something of mine that both you and I will be proud of. What do you intend this book to be about? This will be a book of travel, Mr. Niles. Travel? I'm afraid I must disagree with you. Louisa, you know that I gave you your start. My dear is the writer, and I have a great fondness for you. But I can't encourage you to write something that I know in advance we could never accept. What can I write? What can I do? Do us a children's book, Louisa. A book about girls. Girls? What do I know about girls? You're a good writer, aren't you? Well, I can only write what I know. And I do know Europe now. You're a very stubborn young woman. But, believe me, my dear Robertson Company is much more stubborn. Either you write what we can sell, or you don't write for us at all. I've never seen such industry. Louisa, I think you've ruined the whole garden in the two days you've been home. I didn't know you were so fond of flowers. I never thought about them, I suppose, until I went to Europe. But gardening, my dear, will never get that book written. Now, Father, don't drive Louisa's soul. He's right, Mother. I haven't written a word. But how can I write about girls? What girls have I ever known? You could write about you and your sisters, you know. What? Yes, all of you as children. Oh, Mother, what could I write about us? Well, you could write about those fantastic plays that you used to put on in the barn. And the time you surprised us with a cake so heavy we could barely lift it. And you could put in a word about your mother, my dear. She certainly played a part in your story. And Father, too. Well, then, why not? Don't you think it would work, Louisa? I suppose I could try it. You sound doubtful. Well, I am, Father. I don't think anyone would be terribly interested in the story of our ordinary lives, except us. Beth and Amy formed a circle around him. Lori's face was puzzled as he glanced... Oh, no, that's no good. Now, let's see. Lori's face... Lou! Oh, come in, May. Finish it again, Lou. This time I hope it's what you want. You still look too American. Well, no, this time you've done a wonderful job, May. It looks just like him. Just like him? You talk as if this Lori were actually somebody real. Oh, do I? Well, I guess I'll get back to my drawings. Lori's the most wonderful character I've ever read. I don't know how you made him up, Lou. Made him up? How could I ever have made you up, Ladi? I've read your book. I don't quite know how to tell you. After all, it was I who suggested that you write this story for girls. We didn't say any more, Mr. Niles. I think I understand very well. I'm sorry, Louisa. In my opinion, it's a very dull book. I'm afraid we won't be able to publish it. And so, once again, the walls I built so carefully come tumbling down around me. Do you think the name Louisa May Allcott will ever mean anything more than a synonym for failure? Oh, now, my dear, you must not be discouraged. Besides, I have one other course I wish to pursue. I would like to keep your manuscript short to others, get their opinions. I could be wrong, you know. No. No, in this case, Mr. Niles, I have a feeling that you're very right. I don't believe I'll ever write again. Failure. I am a failure. Must you go back? Why must you forever struggle for success driven by the ceaseless ambition? I'm sorry, Louisa. In my opinion, it's a very dull book. I'm afraid we won't be able to publish it. Louisa, you must come back to Paris. You must. Paris, I will go back. Is that you, Louisa? Here, there's a letter for you. A letter for me? At this hour? Yes, it came by messenger from Boston half an hour ago. Boston? Well, open it, Lou. See what it is. Yes, yes, I will. Who is it from? It's from Mr. Niles. I'll read it aloud. My dear Louisa, I told you I could be wrong about your book. And I'm happy to report that I was. Well, Lou. After you left my office on Monday last, I gave the manuscript to my little niece, Elizabeth, a clever young glass of eight. Well, young Elizabeth, it loved the book. And now she's clamoring for more. Wonderful. Is this something else? Yes, yes, there is. Now I am convinced myself, after carefully rereading the manuscript, that your story of the March family, father and mother and the four girls, Meg, Joe, Beth, and Amy, will someday prove to be one of the great children's stories of our time. I'm serious as soon as possible. We shall talk about publication of this book and plans for the next volume. The next volume? Will there be one, Louisa? The next volume. Yes, father, no matter what I may have said or thought before, I know now what I must do, write and write and then write some more. Louisa, you haven't even named your story, or at least you haven't told us what it is. Haven't I? Well, I must have forgotten. I shall call it Little Women. You know, there's a famous passage which begins, No man is an island, and tired of itself. Or put another way, no one can live in a vacuum. We depend upon one another. Much as we strive for independence and even pride ourselves in it, it takes a little sorrow, a little pain, a little poverty, a little fear to make us realize how much we need the help of others. And if we depend upon our neighbor for support, how much more should we look to God, on whom all of us depend? We need God's help every minute of the day. And if we're wise, we'll acknowledge the need. By praying to him daily with our families, for the help our families need, we won't wait for sickness or sorrow to strike us to our knees. We'll make family prayer a normal, natural part of our daily lives, because we know and believe that the family that prays together, stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, Family Theatre has brought you Ruth Hussie in The Other Glory with John Lund as your host. Others in our cast were Frances X Bushman, Carlton Young, Janet Scott, Charlotte Lawrence, Bill Johnstone, Gloria McMillan, and Jack Lloyd. The script was written by Michael and Robert Pollock with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theatre by J.F. Mansfield. This is Tony Lofrano expressing the wish of Family Theatre that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home. We present Fibre McGee and Molly in The Windbag with John Ford as your host. Join us, won't you? Family Theatre has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.