 Case dismissed. Monday morning was something quite different. At first I suspected nothing. Then rumors began floating around. Little clusters of students began to form between classes, then reform elsewhere. Oh, what am I imagining? An innocent young woman suddenly finds herself the victim of a vicious character assassination. How can she protect her rights against an anonymous person? And is it too late now to restore her good name? Today a story of label on case dismissed. WMAQ in cooperation with the Chicago Bar Association presents case dismissed. This is the story of your legal rights. How vital to preserve and protect them, how easily they may be lost. Today our story begins at the hosiery counter of a neighborhood variety store in Chicago. Girl, girl, come here and take care of me. I'm in a hurry. I'm sorry, I'll be with you in just a moment as soon as I've taken care of you. If you can't give better service here, I'll just have to go. I'm really sorry, madam, but there's other customers in way now. Well, I never... Why, you... For young lady, you... You're up to late. So this is where you've been hiding. Well... How's everything back in mid-air, Miss Seneway? The nerve of you. The likes of you asking me that. Why, you ought never to mention the name of our town again in all your life. You who brought so much shame to us. But I didn't, Miss Seneway. You don't have to. No, I don't have to shop in a store that has the likes of you as clerks. I should think the manager would be glad to know about the trash he's hiring. Please, Miss Seneway, it isn't true. Please don't say those awful things. Haven't you and your boss, Mrs. Cambridge, haven't you done enough to me? Aren't you satisfied, Miss Seneway? A man, are you the manager of the store? Yes, ma'am, what can I do for you? Well, I think you should know you haven't been very careful in selecting your help here. Oh really, ma'am? Do you have a complaint against one of our clerks? I should say I have, and so does the entire town of Midvale. Against that Blake girl. Miss Laura Blake? Miss Laura Blake, indeed. A girl with a shady past, that's who you hire, young man. Well, if you'd please tell me your name, I'd like to look into your accusation more. Indeed, I won't tell you my name. And she'll tell you all about herself. Oh, my yes. She'll be delighted to tell you all about her wretched life. Good day, sir. Come in. Excuse me, Mr. Marsh. Oh yes, Laura. Won't you sit down, please? Yes, ma'am. Laura? I don't believe in beating around the bush. A customer whose name I couldn't obtain has just made a serious accusation about you. Miss Seneway. Stella Seneway. So they're even going to take this job away from me. You know who I mean, right away, Laura? Yes. She said you had a shady past. Is there any truth to her charge? No. No, sir. Not at all. That's all I want to know, then. But I want to tell you about it, Mr. Marsh. Won't you listen? I certainly will. I'll be very glad to. Do you know the town of Midvale, Mr. Marsh? Yes. Yes, I've been through it many times. It's a pretty town. Yes. A pretty town in many ways. And for 23 years, I didn't dream there was any ugliness to be found in Midvale. But there was. It's your hometown? Yes, Mr. Marsh. You see, my mother died when I was a little girl. My father moved to Midvale shortly afterward. He was a printer and he worked for the weekly newspaper there. Dad hired a housekeeper, Mrs. Briggs, who took care of me when he wasn't home. Dad and mother had been devoted to each other and her death left him adrift. He needed friends. And he found friendship in the Midvale tavern. Laura, you don't have to tell me all this if you don't... Oh, no. It's all part of the story, Mr. Marsh. I just want you to know that my dad was never a drunkard, even by the wildest conception. He'd linger over a beer for hours, chatting with companions, reminiscing. And in all that time, through my childhood, up to the day he died, I never once saw my father even slightly intoxicated. Did you lose your father recently, Laura? Yes, Mr. Marsh. The town killed him just a few months ago. Killed him? It surely is that they used to gather. Look, Laura, if you're not up to it, don't force yourself to tell me this today. I can wait. No, I want to. I'm all right. Well, you don't have to. Yes, I do. My dad managed to send me through teacher's college, Mr. Marsh. I remember how proud and happy he was. The day I learned I'd been selected to teach right at home in Midvale High School. Laura Blake, English and speech department, all rolled into one delighted girl. Even my first meeting with Miss Sunaway's boss, President Lillian Cambridge, failed to lessen the joy of that first meeting. And now, Miss Blake, we at the school board are naturally happy that one of our own Midvale residents has been chosen to become a member of the faculty. However, I must warn you, that you will be expected to lead the same kind of exemplary life required of all our teachers. Oh, yes, of course I will. I simply want to emphasize it, Miss Blake. Smoking in public is not allowed. And it is courage even in private. Late hours are to be avoided at all times. Drinking, Miss Blake, is absolutely forbidden. Yes, Mrs. Cambridge. You won't have to worry about me. Oh, but I will, Miss Blake. I mean, I always worry about our little family of teachers. I hope you'll feel free to come to me at any time with your problems, Miss Blake. And now, good luck to you. I hope you'll be very happy with us. I'd known about Lillian Cambridge almost all my life. The Cambridges had helped found the town of Midvale. And their descendants ran the town. Lillian Cambridge owned one of the town's hardware stores. And in all the 23 years she'd been a school board member, no other concern had shared in the school's hardware and sports equipment purchases. No one dared challenge this. Not even the other hardware man. His predecessor had tried. And overnight, he vanished from town under the cloud of a scandal. Well, I taught at Midvale High for a year, watching Mrs. Cambridge run her little dictatorship, blocking a much-needed school-building program, arranging for a friend's daughter to skip from fifth to seventh grade, vigilantly serving as the self-appointed watchdog over the teacher's private lives. Then one day, the new coach, Ralph Tracy, made a very serious mistake. He went to Mrs. Cambridge complaining about some new track and playground equipment. Purchased, of course, through Mrs. Cambridge's hardware store. Perhaps he wasn't aware. Perhaps he was just daring. At any rate, he was playing in danger. Mrs. Cambridge, I feel a school has been cheated. Oh, really, Mr. Tracy? In what way? Well, that track and playground equipment we ordered, it's not the same kind I originally approved. This stuff is cheap and flimsy. One of the boys tripped on the hurdles and the board smashed to smithereens. It's junk Mrs. Cambridge ever stick of it and dangerous to the students. But you've made a mistake, Mr. Tracy. Surely, it can't be as bad as you say. Actually, it's worse, Mrs. Cambridge. I won't let the youngsters use this equipment. Oh, you won't? No, ma'am. I wouldn't want to see a trapeze breaker, a pole snap and injure one of them for life. Aren't you over dramatizing this, Mr. Tracy? No, indeed. That's cheap equipment. And if you want my honest opinion, the school's been jipped. That's your opinion? Yes, ma'am, and if I have anything to say about it, the parents are going to know about this. Mr. Tracy, I'm glad to know how you feel. I'll see that action is taken immediately. Well, thank you, Mrs. Cambridge. Good day, Mr. Tracy. Goodbye. Yes. Goodbye, Mr. Tracy. You're right, of course. The parents are going to know about this. Overnight a vicious rumor about Coach Tracy started in the event. By morning it had spread all around the town. To the beauty parlors and men's clothing stores and barber shops and taverns. Who'd started it? No one knew. Who'd spread the story? Almost everyone. A week later, Ralph Tracy resigned and left Midvale. We teachers knew the truth of his innocence, but what could we do? That's where I made my mistake, I guess. I called a meeting in my English room. We all know what's happened. A fellow teacher has been ruined. Not one of us needs further proof of his innocence. Yes, because of his wife's heart condition, Ralph chose not to fight it. He ran away from a false and vicious rumor someone started. Yes, and we all know who started it. Careful, Genevieve. We have well-founded suspicions, but we've no right to air them till we're sure. That's my suggestion. That we investigate this whole sad case until we find the guilty party and can prove it. The best thing we can try for is to clear Ralph Tracy and get him back here. We started our little investigation, and almost immediately I found myself summoned to Mrs. Cambridge's office downtown. Miss Blake, I understand you've organized a committee to look into the recent scandal and departure of Mr. Tracy. Yes, Mrs. Cambridge. We feel he may have been an innocent victim of a vicious rumor. Forget it. Coach Tracy was guilty of all the charges, and he's running off proves it beyond a doubt. But his wife was an invalid, Mrs. Cambridge. Fighting back would have subjected her to great tension. It might have killed her. Nonsense. The man was a disgrace to the profession. We're well rid of him. I advise you to cease your foolish plans to help him no matter how good your intentions. I'm sorry, Mrs. Cambridge, but we all agree we should continue. We seem to be making a little headway. You will stop it or your answer to be to the school board. Now that's an order. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Cambridge. I don't think the school board has any right to stop us from trying to prove a man's innocence. Miss Blake, I'll not tolerate such insolence. I'm sorry, Mrs. Cambridge. I intend no insolence. But you won't halt the silly investigation? No, ma'am. Not yet. Miss Blake, we shall see who's running mid-vale high school. Good day to you. Goodbye, Mrs. Cambridge. Two mornings later as I left my home, I discovered a sealed white envelope without postmark or stamp in my mailbox. I opened it and read the typewritten message. Speaking for all the citizens of mid-vale, we've been asked to advise you that further efforts on your part in behalf of Coach Ralph Tracy will not be tolerated. Nothing you can do will convince us he was not guilty. We are well rid of him for your own good, stop now. Signed Citizens' Committee of Mid-vale. As anything anonymous is frightening. I debated whether I should tell our teacher's group about the letter. Finally, I did. And most of them wanted to halt our investigation for my sake. But I persuaded most of the faculty to continue. The following Friday night, I was serving as a faculty advisor to school dance. At intermission time, I gathered up the tickets and money from the student ticket sellers at the door and took them back to the principal's office for safekeeping. When I put the key in the lock, I found the door was unlocked. Inside, the light was on. I expected to see the principal, but there was no one in the room. Then I turned to the safe to put away the $40 from the dance. The door to the safe was open and there was nothing inside. I hurried back to the gymnasium, found the principal and told him what I suspected, that someone had broken into his office and stolen the contents of the safe. We rushed back and he confirmed my fears. Nearly $200 was gone. Well, the second half of the school dance failed miserably as excitement mounted over the office robbery. Theories and rumors blew like wildfire. Students pinned it on the recognized bad boys in school. Adults present thought it might be the work of downtown Tufts. I, of course, was the center of attraction, the star of the evening, because I'd stumbled onto the crime. That was how it was Friday night and all day Saturday and Sunday. But Monday morning was something quite different. At first, I suspected nothing. Then I saw the folded note being passed from one student to another. I apprehended it and read it as the class hung its head. Who stole school's $200? That's easy. Who found the door unlocked and the safe open. Whose father is a drunkard and a thief. He drinks and steals just like him. The answer, good citizens, is our innocent acting English teacher. Laura? Blake? What are you going to do about it? Life and war. No. No. No, I couldn't. Oh, no! My friend, Genevieve Hib, stood by me and helped me regain my composure. And then the full truth came to me. I'd been accused of theft and of drunkenness by an unknown writer who'd sent identical letters to 25 of Midvale's leading citizens. When I could think clearly again, I tried to find out who'd sent the letters. I had a strong suspicion, of course, but the post office ended that very swiftly. The letters they informed me had been placed in the post office sometime after 7 o'clock on Sunday evening. And I knew beyond a doubt that Mrs. Lillian Cambridge, the number one suspect, had left town by train on Saturday night and wasn't expected back for a week. She might have had an accomplice, but how would I know? What could I do? Nothing, I decided. The rumor grew and was magnified as it traveled. My best friend stood by me, but the other kind, well, I began to notice some of my faculty associates who used to stop and chat at lunchtime, now carefully avoided me. And more and more I heard speakers and whispers about Larson and Laura behind my back. I tried to shield my father, but, of course, it was impossible. He was furious, but the more tongues wagged, the less he said and the thicker he became. And there we were in the middle of a horrible nightmare that never ceased, but just grew and grew. Well, the school board election returned Lillian Cambridge to her presidency without opposition. And I think it was then that I knew that my cause was lost. Her secretary at the hardware store, Miss Stella Fenoway, called on me at my home a week later. She came quickly to the point of the mission. I do hope you'll consider the advice of Mrs. Cambridge and myself. Spare yourself and the school further embarrassment by resigning from the faculty at the end of the spring term. No matter how she put it, Stella Fenoway had handed me an ultimatum from Lillian Cambridge. Finally in May, an official note came directly from Lillian Cambridge. This is to inform you that your services as English and speech teacher at Midvale High School will be terminated as of Friday, June 7th, Lillian Cambridge President's Midvale Schoolboy. I'd expected it for some time, of course, and I was prepared for the shock. But for my father, it was the final blow. He took to his bed that summer and in the fall, after I'd been turned down by a dozen different high schools in the state, he died a tired, broken-hearted man. At Christmas time, I came to Chicago and started working with your store here, Mr. Marsh. Since then, I've been trying to work out a future. Frankly, I haven't gotten very far with my plans. Well, if it helps any, Laura, I'd like you to know that I believe you. Thank you, Mr. Marsh. That means a great deal. And what's more, I'd like to help you if I can. You can't go through life with that black mark in your past. But what can I do? Well, first thing you can do is see my friend, Attorney Jack Milks. If anything on earth can be done, there's the boy who can do it. But I don't have enough money for a lawsuit, even if I do have a case, Mr. Marsh. I'm sure Jack will have an answer to that, too. How about letting me call it? Well, Miss Blake, you've really had a rough time. I'm certainly glad you came to me before it was too late. Too late? I don't understand, Mr. Milks. There's a statute of limitations on libel and slander suits, Miss Blake. In Illinois, you have to sue within one year after the libel or slander has taken place. Goodness, we had only a little over a month left. No one to sue. Don't you think this story about you has been repeated specifically by a number of different people in Midvale? Oh, yes. I'm sure it has. Well, all we have to do is find someone who has repeated that you're a thief, Miss Blake. We don't have to find a person who actually started the rumor, and it doesn't make any difference even if a person repeating it believed it was true. Oh, but I don't want to make a mere gossip pay for this, Mr. Milks. I'm only interested in vindication. I want the party who viciously started it to say it isn't true. Well, if we identify someone who repeated it, we can undoubtedly trace it back to its origin. However, the fact that you have some strong suspicions about someone with considerable motivation may prove helpful here. Perhaps not. At any rate, I think the collection of notes you received is the place to begin. Oh, you mean the warning note and the actual libelous note? Yes, and also the official notice of dismissal sent you by Mrs. Cambridge, the school board president. But they were all typewritten, Mr. Milken. The warning and the libelous note had no signature. Well, a typewriter has a signature all its own, you know. And we'll get a typewriter expert on this and have him do a little sleuth work. They can trace a typewritten note right down to the make and model of the typewriter, and even to the owner. Suppose we have a try. Well, Miss Blake, we have good news. The typewriter expert tells me all three of the notes were written on the same machine, a standard tailor. Then Mrs. Cambridge did write those horrible things. It seems very likely. However, we'll need every shred of proof we can find. That's why I plan to visit your former home town of Midvale tomorrow. If the office of fly shop manager keeps a record of his sales, we should be able to locate that typewriter. And if he definitely belongs to Mrs. Cambridge? Yes, that's what we hope to find. Of course, we haven't won your case by any means, but we're getting some mighty good evidence. Yeah, good morning, sir. Good morning, Mr. Walters. Yes, sir. I'm Attorney John Milken of Chicago. I'm mighty glad to know you're sure. You interested in a typewriter? In a way, yes, but not to buy one. Oh. No, I'm trying to trace a certain typewriter. It's an off-brand, a standard tailor. Oh, yes. Do you keep any record of typewriter sales? Yes, sir, indeed we do. Unfortunately, I don't have a serial number. Well, in this case, you won't need any. I sold only one standard tailor in the last five years. Really? Oh, yes, sir. That machine went to Mrs. Cambridge, Mrs. Lillian Cambridge over at the hardware store. Well, if you can see, Mr. Blake, it all turned out to be a lot easier than I'd even imagine. Oh, it's marvelous, Mr. Milton. You've done so much already. Well, I think we just about have a case here now. Well, then before we go any further, Mr. Milton, you must understand I'm very short of money. I know all about that, Mr. Blake, and I believe I have a solution for you. You see, lawyers have several different ways of charging for their services. One is based on actual time involved in preparing and prosecuting a case, regardless of outcome. I see. Usually, a lawyer has a basic hourly fee, the amount of which depends on his expenses. For books, not the first salary, rent and so forth, in addition to compensation for his own time at work. I understand, Milton. Still another method is by charging a flat fee for a given type of case. For instance, so much for an ordinary divorce action, so much for an adoption, so much for the making of a simple will. Oh, do you have a special fee for a libel action of this kind? No, every libel action differs from every other fee, but this is a case that lends itself admirably to the third way of charging, the contingent fee. Here, if you win, I would take a percentage of the amount you receive. Usually not more than one-third, sometimes less if the case is settled out of court. If you lose, you owe me no fee, but you do pay the court cost. In other words, there's a risk involved. But if that method suits you, I'll be willing to take your case on that basis. Oh, it certainly sounds very fair to me. Oh, excuse me a moment. John Milton speaking. Mr. Milton, are you the attorney who was in Midvale yesterday? Oh, yes, ma'am. With whom am I speaking? You don't know me, Mr. Milton. My name's Stella Fennerway. Oh, yeah? I live in Midvale. They say you were asking about a certain typewriter at the local supply store. Oh, that's right. I'm seeking information for a client of mine, a former resident of your town. Mr. Milton, your client is Laura Blake, could it? I'm sorry, Ms. Fennerway. I'm not liberty to devote to the name of my client. But you mentioned it when you were in Mr. Walters' sidewriter shop. I did? Oh, I had no idea. Mr. Milton. Of what, Ms. Fennerway? I... I believe I have my client's information to make that promise, Ms. Fennerway. But I don't quite understand why you think she would have a case against you anyway. I... I'll be getting in touch with you, Ms. Fennerway. Goodbye. Strange things happen when a person is trying to save his own skin. At any rate, Laura, now we're well-prepared to go ahead with your libel suit against Lillian Cambridge. Hey, Mr. Milton, I'm Dudley Pirran, counsel for Mrs. Cambridge. My client is anxious to keep this libel action out of court. She's instructed me to offer a settlement. And would your client, Ms. Blake, accept $5,000? Well, yes and no, Ms. Pirran. That will be acceptable to my client as a settlement for her loss of earning and inability to work at her chosen profession during the past year. But the damage to her reputation is something quite different. Something Mrs. Cambridge can't assuage with money. You would require a retraction of the allegedly libelous statements by Mrs. Cambridge. Exactly, Mr. Pirran. A full and public retraction by Mrs. Cambridge. Well, Mr. Marsh, today's the day. I'm off for Colorado. Well, miss you at the store, Laura, but I'm certainly glad you're returning to your profession. Good teachers are badly needed. That's why I'm taking this summer course. I won't see a good teacher unless I get back into the mental trim I was in a year ago before all this happened. I'd say you have a fine start, Laura. Well, I have you and Mr. Milton to thank for that, Mr. Marsh. It's a terrible thing to live under a cloud of suspicion. Thank goodness for our legal rights, Laura. And for the laws that protect us against unprincipled people who try to take our rights away. Here to summarize today's case dismissed is your counselor, Dean John C. Fitzgerald of the Loyola University Law School. Dean Fitzgerald. This is the Easter season. A time when hopes are reborn and every man should rededicate himself to his faith and to his fellow man. Repeating a libelous lander can be as dangerous and as damaging as originating it. And you are as guilty morally as you are under the law. Bearing false witness against your neighbor hurts not only the neighbor but spreads out until it consumes your entire community in moral sickness. To protect the community as well as the individual. We have laws of flander and libel for which Laura is now grateful. Next week, WMAQ and the Chicago Bar Association will consider some of the problems of juvenile delinquency. Until then, this is your counselor, Dean John C. Fitzgerald, wishing for each of you a good night, good luck, and good law. Case dismissed. For plain answers to common questions about you and the law, remember to write to your free booklet entitled Meet Your Lawyer. Address your request to Chicago Bar Association 29 South La Salle Street, Chicago 3, Illinois. Case dismissed was written by Robert Carmen and is based on information supplied by the Chicago Bar Association and its lawyer members. All characters were fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Members of today's cast were Meg Hawn, Viola Burwick, Geraldine Kay, Jack Lester, Charles Flynn, and Harry Elder. Case dismissed is produced by Betty Roth. Direction is by Herbert Leto. Musical effects were transcribed. Sound by Tom Evans. Engineering by Gary de Blee. This is Lee Bennett speaking, inviting you to return next Saturday at this same time when we'll bring you a story about legal aspects of juvenile delinquency on Case Dismissed. This is the NBC Radio Network.