 It's National Wheaties Week. Yes, it's National Wheaties Week, and Wheaties presents Dimension X. Transcribed on stage tonight, Dimension X. Another in the Wheaties big parade of exciting half-hour presentations. It's National Wheaties Week. And here's the forecast for tomorrow morning. Bright and cheerful with occasional smiles followed by a good morning all morning long. You think I'm kidding? No sir, you can have a better morning around your house tomorrow. If you started off with a good breakfast, including I hope a bowl of Wheaties with milk and fruit. Nourishment? Say Wheaties have it to give. To you right here in National Wheaties Week. There's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties flake. Talk about vitamins and minerals and protein. They're yours in Wheaties. All you have to do is get them. Those Wheaties. At your nearest store. Get them and try them once this week. For me. For you. Try them once and see for yourself how Wheaties at 7 can help at 11. Ready? Let's go. It's National Wheaties Week. Now, tonight's adventure into the unknown world of the future. The world of Dimension X. Where anything can happen. Mr. Sid Ryan. The same. My name is Lucia. I'm a Martian. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lu... What was that again? A Martian. A Martian, eh? As in Orson Welles? Precisely. I'm a Rotarian myself. Sid Ryan. And now that we've had our little joke, Mr. Lucia, what can publicity associates do for you? It has been my observation that advertising and publicity are the very backbone of earthly civilization. Spoken like a true Martian, Mr. Lucia. Now, if you'll tell me the name of the client. The client, of course, will be the Martian. You don't give up, do you? Give up? The gag, I mean. Oliver. Oh, yes, Mr. Ryan? This is Mr. Lucia. How do you do, Mr. Lucia? Mr. Lucia claims to be a Martian. Take him outside. Will you, Oliver, get the name of the sanatorium he escaped from and tell them to bring the butterfly net? Wait, sir. I'm happy to see, Mr. Ryan, that my telling you I'm a Martian has approximately the effect I supposed it would have. I believe we can do business. I have here the cash retainer of $5,000. $5,000? Sit down, Mr. Lucia. Oliver, get the client a cigar. Yes, sir. No, no, no, no. The other ones, the other ones. Thank you, no. Well, now, what can I do for you, sir? I wish you to manage a publicity campaign, a very large, a very important campaign. Is the product established or is it something brand new? Oh, something quite new. Now, what would you judge to be the most effective type of campaign? Well, if the client has a lot of dough to throw around, a suspense campaign is best. First, you place ads in the paper saying, watch this space. Then, about a week later, you run an ad saying, XYZ or PDQ, and you get people guessing what it means. Then, finally, when you've teased them enough, you bust loose and unveil the product. Excellent. Very well, sir. We shall conduct a suspense campaign. Of course, in this kind of campaign, secrecy is very important. Once the name of the product leaks out, it spreads like wildfire, and the whole campaign is kerflopo. Kerflopo? Yes, quite so, quite so. Oh, most secrecy. That's right. You realize, of course, these things cost like crazy. Would say one million dollars cover the expense? Come again? I said, would one million dollars cover it? Yes, I imagine. You did say one million dollars. I understood. You had handled some very large accounts. Of course, if this is too big. Oh, not at all. Not at all. As a matter of fact, I seldom touch anything less. Right, Oliver? Oh, of course, that's right, Mr. Ryan. Absolutely right. Good. You will begin, then, by saturating the newspapers, radio, street cars, with a very simple statement. What's that? I shall write it for you. The Martians are coming. Say, that's not a bad teaser. Got that, Oliver? Yes, sir. The next ad will read, June 1st is Martian Day. June 1st is Martian Day. What happens on June 1st? The parade takes place. What parade? I wish you to arrange a parade up Fifth Avenue. You mean like the Macy parade? Exactly. Except that the theme will be the world of tomorrow. The Martian world. My client would like it to be a gay affair. Balloons, clowns, penins, pretty drum majorettes. Hey, that sounds terrific. I might be able to interest the department stores in a tie-in. The parade will climax the campaign. On June 1st the product will be unveiled. Good enough. By the way, Mr. Lucia, just what is the product? What are we selling? Oh, no, Mr. Ryan. Secrecy, remember. All will be revealed to you in good time, Mr. Ryan. For the moment, let us say we are selling a concept. A concept? Precisely the concept of invasion from Mars. Benny Marcus, please. This is Benny. Benny, this is Sid Ryan over at Publicity Associates. Listen, Benny, how are you fixed for midgets? I got midgets. Fine. I need 40 midgets for a parade. 40. June 1st. And listen, Benny, I want them dressed in little space suits. What? You know, like men from Mars. It's okay? Midgets. And I want some movie extras, maybe 50 of them. Also rigged up like men from Mars. Make them look gruesome. Got that? Groosome. Also, I need some horses with pretty girls on top of them. Maybe you can get that bunch from Moroni's Traveling Circus. The ones we booked for the fireman's parade in Albany last year. Oh, that's right, Sid. And never mind the expense. Just get me the talent, okay? I got to hang up now. Call me back, Benny. How are you doing, Oliver? Oh, fine, Mr. Ryan. Just fine. We've got full-page ads in all the dailies and 10-second spot announcements on every local station. But it's costing a fortune. The more it costs, the bigger our percentage. Spend like you are going to the electric chair, Oliver. Yes, sir. How are you making out on the parade? If it comes off, it'll be the biggest thing since Barnum invented the midget. I've got maces, gimbals, and sacks to contribute floats. Everything is built around the Martian theme, see? The horses will have long feelers attached to them and funny-looking extra legs. It'll be sensation. Oh, yeah, yeah. It sounds fine. Only, uh... Only what? Oh, Mr. Ryan, we don't even know what we're selling. Oliver, my boy, do you think old Sid Ryan has been sitting here spending all this moolah and not putting two and two together? You mean you know who Lushar represents? Just by accident, understand? I have learned that Century Pictures is making a big new epic. A space opera entitled Invasion from Mars. Get it? Oh. Oh, I begin to see. Uh, also by mere coincidence, it happens to be the premiere sometime around June 1st. You follow me? But Mr. Ryan Century has an exclusive contract with New Features Syndicate for all their publicity. Suppose Century Pictures doesn't like the way New Features is handling their stuff. They want to get out of the contract, but New Features says no. They found the contract. A man named Lushar, client unknown, starts publicizing the Martian Invasion. Need I go further? Oh, I get it, Mr. Ryan. Gee, I suppose I should have thought of that. No, Oliver, that's what I like about you. You're so innocent. Yeah, let me talk to Commissioner Patrick, please. Sid Ryan. Hello? Commissioner? Sid Ryan. Oh, it's you. What is it this time? If you want to drop a man off the Empire State Building into a teacup full of water, the answer is no. Also, we are not arresting any fan dancers. You know I don't handle fan dancers. I want a permit for a parade. June 1st, Fifth Avenue. It's a Sunday. There's no traffic. Oh, come now. Look, Ryan. Macy's gets a permit. Gimbal's gets a permit. The American Legion gets a permit. The Sons of Aaron march. Every time Morton Downey sings the word in the green. Don't give me a hard time, Patrick. This is too big. Come on now. I have the Fifth Avenue Merchants Association behind me. Okay, Ryan. I'll pass them along to the licensed commissioner. That's my boy. Oh, by the way, what's the occasion? Oh, don't you read the papers, Patrick? June 1st is Martian Day. Hello, Mr. Ryan. How is the campaign going? Like fire, Mr. Lucia, like fire. Everybody and his brother is going along with the gang. Yesterday, we distributed 50,000 Martian hats to school kids. I even arranged for Commissioner Patrick to accept a $50,000 check for the policeman's benevolent fund from the man from Mars. I, um... I understand century pictures spend over a million bucks making that space opera. I beg your pardon. Oh, come, come, Mr. Lucia. Sid Ryan wasn't born yesterday, you know. I know who our client is, even if you don't admit it. You do? Always thinking that's me. Well, as long as you know, let's keep it to ourselves, shall we, Mr. Ryan? As you once remarked, when these things leak out, it destroys the surprise and ruins the effectiveness of the campaign. Highlander speaking to you from our portable transmitter atop the reviewing stand for the much-heralded Martian parade on Fifth Avenue. It's a beautiful, sunlit day here in New York. It's a perfect day for a parade, and these streets are packed with thousands of spectators all eager to find out what this is all about. There's an air of shrill expectancy. I just have word from Saul Brown up at Central Park Mall that the Martians have landed from big pink balloons. And while we're waiting here for the arrival of the parade, we brought some people up to our microphone to tell you their reactions to this spectacular affair. What's your name, madam? Miss Ada Shackley. A little louder, please. Miss Ada Shackley. And where are you from, Mrs. Shackley? Columbus, Ohio. I see. And I see you have your family with you, two little curly-headed boys. Are you in New York for your vacation? Yeah, we came for the Shriners Convention with their daddy. What do you think of Martian Day, Mrs. Shackley? Well, it all seems very strange to me, but the boys have been pestering me to watch it, so we've been standing here for two hours. I can't make head or tail of it. Neither can a lot of other people, Mrs. Shackley, but judging by the thousands here already, there's a lot of curiosity. Curiosity. Kill the cat, folks say. Let's hope not. Thank you, Mrs. Shackley. And now, here's the... Here they come, ladies and gentlemen. The first units of the big Martian parade swinging down to Favio, with the fanfare, colored streamers, music, confetti floats, all the castings in a Mardi Gras. Let's listen to the band for a minute. Little midgets in weird-looking pink and blue spaces, carrying rude Goldberg weapons with signs painted on them. I can read one which says, Atomic Blaster. Another had the placard reading, We're Martian through Georgia. And here come the clowns, laughing and pulling all over each other. They're giving free sugar candy to the kids along the way. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is a happy, laughing crowd along Fifth Avenue today. A true reflection of a great sense of humor and good nature that makes America the place it is. Why, only... What's this? The crowd's murmuring now. They've fallen somewhat silent. There's something coming. I'll try to get it for you. What? Oh, ladies and gentlemen, here comes the Martian contingent. This is promised as the climax of the show. And now a great plush has fallen over the crowd. It's quite a sight to see these thousands of people standing here expectantly, hearing only the great, regular sigh of their mass breathing. And now here they come, ladies and gentlemen. The Martians, marching in booted, helmeted ranks, row after row. This is an impressive sight, ladies and gentlemen. And a rather serious contrast to the rest of me, the joyous slapstick parade we've been witnessing up in Mao. There are perhaps over 200 tall broad-chested men dressed in metallic gray spacesuits with thick glass visors drawn across their faces. Each one's holding an ominous-looking ray gun at the ready position. And marching in absolute silence, keeping stepped perfectly as though some new unspoken command were marking time for them. Keeping the children on board by an unexpected war-like realism of the Martian Legion. And now their first ranks of the Martians move past us, down Fifth Avenue toward the reviewing stands at the square. No one moves. A woman, ladies and gentlemen, just dashed out into the street. For what reason, I don't know. She just slipped through the police cordon somehow. They're after her now, but she's already reached the ranks of the marches and she's trying to lift the visor of one of the Martian spacesuits. Wait, wait. She's fallen. She screamed and then fell full, with a dead faint. The Martian column keeps right on coming. Unless they break ranks, they're going to trample her. No, no, no. The policemen have got her now. They're dragging her away, out of the way. Trying to revive her now. What's that? All sorts of rumors have begun filtering back through the crowd. Some are even whispering that the woman's dead. We don't know yet, but whatever's happened, the incident seems to cast a slight shadow over the mood of the crowd. Carefree holiday air seems to have vanished, the crowd's stirring uneasily. A little disturbed at what we've just seen. Nothing to be alarmed at. However, it just seems a shame that anything like this should happen to spoil our enjoyment of the Martian parade. The match and the axe will continue in just a moment. It's National Wheaties Week. I want to take that again, Frank. Oh, sure. It's National Wheaties Week. And we're celebrating. And that voice you heard belongs to my severest critic, who is here to help us celebrate tonight. He's the fellow who's backstage when I'm telling you about the Wheaties. He listens to see that I tell you right. Wheaties best friend, next to me, Blaine Butcher. I think you took that introduction a little past, Frank. You see what I mean, folks? Seriously, Blaine, you say the Wheaties words once. Okay. All I'll say is this. Those of us who tell the Wheaties story, believe what we say. And during National Wheaties Week, the good word is this. Get a package of Wheaties and try them just once. I'll be right behind you and line at your grocers between you and Frank Martin. Okay? Do that now. Try Wheaties. It's National Wheaties Week. Mr. Ryan, did you see that? A woman fainted. She ran out into the street to get a close look at the Martians. She screamed and fainted dead away. I'm well aware of that, Oliver, since I paid her 50 bucks to do it. What? The dramatic moment, Oliver, the stock and trade of the good publicity man. Holy smokes. You sure think of everything. For my share of this deal, roughly $100,000, I can afford to think of everything. Shut the window. Okay, but don't you want to see the finish? We'll get down to the reviewing stand for the finish. Right now, I want to make a phone call. By the way, where's Lucia? Okay, Mr. Ryan. Benny, this is Sid Ryan. Oh, I say listen, Sid, I was going to call you. I'm awful sorry about those Martians. What do you mean sorry? They're terrific. No, don't joke, Sid. I mean it. Well, I mean it too. They're great, great. Do you want a bag? Never felt better. Of course I mean it. What is this? There are Martians in the parade. There's about 150. Of course I only ordered 50, but under the circumstance... Sid, don't you know I couldn't get you a single movie extra? There's a studio strike in New York. Huh? Wait a minute. Where these guys come from if you didn't hire them? I don't know. Hold on. Oliver. Oh, yes, Mr. Ryan. Did you hire those Martians? Well, no, sir, I didn't. Benny, this is on the level, isn't it? Honestly, I... Okay, Benny, I'll call you back. What's the matter, Mr. Ryan? I don't know. Just don't know. Wonderflucia, Adam. What's the Century Pictures number? Tremaine 4, 1,000. Tremaine 4, 1,000. The studio of the stars. Give me Marty Sanford, your publicity director. One moment. Marty, this is Sid Ryan. Oh, hello, Sid. How's it going? Fine, fine. Listen, Marty, this is dead serious. On the level, get it? What's wrong? I've got to locate Lucia. Lu who? Lucia, come on now, Marty. This is life and death. The guy you sent over to hire me for the invasion picture. Invasion from Mars, the space opera. Marty. What? What is it, Mr. Ryan? You look terrible. It's... it's too fantastic. Fantastic. Mr. Ryan, is something wrong? Open that window. I want another look at those Martians. Oliver, you were in the Army. Could 150 movie extras learn to march like that in, say, 24 hours? No. Not in 24 days, Mr. Ryan. Not a second's hesitation. Not one other step. Look at the way they carry those ray guns at the ready. The only other time I've seen troops march like that was in a film with the Nazi SS troops marching through the streets of Paris. Mr. Ryan. Oliver, get down there. Find that woman who painted her. Her name's Gloria Montez. Get her up here. Make it fast. Get much sense out of her. About the act of the likes. It's me, Sid Ryan. It's me, Sid Ryan. Gloria, settle down. Baby, it's me, Sid. Baby, snap out of it. Listen, what happened down there? You ran out and screamed like I told you, but the fainting, that wasn't in the act. Go away, please. Go away. Just one question, baby. Inside that helmet, what did you see? She needs a doctor. Okay, Oliver, I've heard enough anyway. You take care of Gloria. Get her a drink. Where are you going to see the commissioner? Okay, Ryan, what's the beef? Listen, Patrick, I don't know what it is. See, but something's wrong. You've got to stop that parade. I suppose you'd like the riot squad. That would get you a front-page spread on every paper in town. Now, look, Ryan, I've got no time for your cheap publicity gags or a busy man. Listen, I'm trying to tell you. I don't know where those Martians came from, who they are, anything about them. Oh, Ryan, I'm wise to your tricks. Now, if you let the sergeant show you out... You won't do it, huh? An honest citizen appears for protection and you refuse? No, Patrick, I'll go right to the mayor's office. I'll have you busted, flattered, and the fried egg. Go ahead. I'm sure his honor will be glad to toss you out on that phony, nickel-plated skull of yours. You heard me, Ryan. You can't see the mayor. Adolf, please. This isn't a gag. I don't want publicity. All I want to do is maybe prevent something horrible from happening. In case you don't know it, wise guy, something horrible is already happening. A couple of hundred little kids are in the hospital with domain poisoning from that phony Martian candy you passed out. What? I... I didn't... We've got to stop that parade. Sure, you'd like nothing better than start a planet now. Maybe a few hundred people get trampled to death. Think of the newspaper space. That'd get you and your phony broader. I won't stand for this, Adolf. This may be a matter of life and death. Don't get out of here, cricket. It'll be your death. Go on, beat it. Get out. You and your publicity, sons. Make me sick to my stomach. It is useless to scream at him, Mr. Ryan. Your friend is... quite dead. He wanted to run to the police with some story about a Martian invasion. I found it necessary to restrain him. Restrain him? You stinking murderer! No, no, Mr. Ryan. Collect yourself. After all, our planning it wouldn't do to have everything spoiled now, would it? Lucia, I'll start talking and talk fast because when you get through, I'm gonna take you apart piece by piece. What's this all about? Surely you know, Mr. Ryan. After all, you've been publicizing it for months. You see, before colonizing your planet, the Martian government sent some of us as scouts in advance, disguised as Earthmen, of course, to study your habits, your weaknesses. We found that the people on Earth are predominantly conditioned by advertising and publicity. And so we conceived the idea of treating our entire invasion as a vast publicity stunt. Clever, yes. After all, Mr. Ryan, who would suspect an invader who advertised his invasion in the newspaper, invited the public to his surprise attack and spent millions publicizing his plans. Holy chomping. You've done very well, you see. Then there was no product. Ah, but there is a product. The product is death. What are you trying, Lucia? We Martians are a humane people, Mr. Ryan. We do not like to destroy thousands where a few hundred will suffice. In exactly two minutes, our troops will treat the world to a spectacle of death, which will bring the rest of your planet to its knees in horror. Nations will clamor to surrender. Perhaps, Mr. Lucia, but not if I can help. Don't! Don't! Operator, this is Mr. Ryan. Get me the field telephone on the reviewing stand of the Martian Day Parade. Hurry. Anyone in particular? Just hurry. Get me Commissioner Patrick. This is Ryan. I have to talk to the commissioner. It's a matter of life and death. Listen, you've got to stop him. An original radio drama written by George Lefferts. Featured in the cast were Joseph Curtin as Ryan, Barry Kroger as Lucia and Alexander Skirby as Ron Heilman. Your narrator was Norman Rose. Music by Albert Berman. Engineer, Bill Chambers. Dimension Axe is produced by Van Woodward and directed by Edward King. In a moment, we'll tell you about next week's show. And now, here is your Wheaties man, Frank Martin. It's National Wheaties Week. Have you had them today? Had your Wheaties? It's National Wheaties Week. The time of the year to buy Wheaties and try them, at least once, we're going to say. Because once you sit down to a bowl of Wheaties with milk and the fruit of your choice, I don't worry about you. Nope. I know there's a whole kernel of wheat in every Wheaties flake. And that's good. Besides, I know that starting a better breakfast with Wheaties can help you feel better, look better and work better all morning. But honest now, you have to do your part before Wheaties can do theirs. Sure, buy Wheaties. That's what you have to do. That's what I have to do. Buy them and see how Wheaties at 7 can help at 11. And a Happy National Wheaties Week to you. Listen next week when we present the Robert Heinlein story, The Roads Must Roll. Another adventure into the world of tomorrow. The world of... Dimension. X. X. And this is the Wheaties Man, Frank Martin, inviting you to listen Saturday. That's tomorrow night to Joel McCrae in Tales of the Texas Rangers on the Wheaties Big Parade. See you then. And remember, it's National Wheaties Week. So when your partner's right and left, it's National Wheaties Week. Come on, everybody, to the Wheaties Party. Eat a lot of Wheaties Sector Champions to Dance together, cheek to cheek. This is National Wheaties Week. Eat a lot of Wheaties Sector Champions to Wheaties the Breakfast of Champion. This program came to you from New York. Jack Lates coming up, October 6th. It's Bill Bandix on NBC.