 The beer that made Milwaukee famous presents The Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Good evening, this is Ronald Coleman. And Benita Coleman. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 100th performance of The Halls of Ivy. And this broadcast is dedicated to a college which was founded in 1852 and is observing its 100th anniversary. We salute Tufts College, Medford, Massachusetts, and its president, Leonard Carmichael. The taste of Schlitz. The taste so many people prefer has made Schlitz beer first in sales in the USA. If you like good beer, those millions of people are doing all over the nation. Ask for Schlitz, the most popular beer in history. Let's surround the sphere today. Welcome again to Ivy, Ivy College that is in the town of Ivy, USA. Sadly enough, there are people who make a dubious living from trumped up lawsuits, professional litigants. There are also professional witnesses who for $15 or so will swear to the sun rising in the west. Professional bondsmen and other full-time legal fringe practitioners. But professional defendants are rare and among them are college presidents. They must be constantly defending their policies, their plans, and their day-to-day actions. As President William Todd Hunter Hall of Ivy College tells his lovely wife, Victoria... And so tomorrow I must go before the Board of Governors and make the best defense I can against the charge of extravagance. It seems that I ordered Emerson Hall painted for the third time in 20 years. Furthermore, excuse me darling. Dr. Hall speaking. Oh yes, Miss Haywood. He is? Well, certainly I'll be happy to. What seems to be the difficulty? I see. Well, I'll do anything I can, of course. Yes, Miss Haywood. Goodbye. That was Miss Haywood, Vicki. She's a prime mover in the Ivy players. Yes, I know. As someone said about someone else, she thinks she's... Mary's all rolled into one. She's a fine little stage manager when there's nobody on the stage. What did she want? Well, it seems that Sidney Mullins is on his way over here on some desperate mission. Oh, that usually means they need some money for something. Do you know Sidney? No, no, I'm afraid that pleasure has been denied me so far. I take it he is the promoter, big exploitation expert, and general manager of the Ivy players. Yes, and a good one. His family were all Vaudville people. Comedy acrobat. The four flying Mullins. Four flying Mullins. He had two sets of parents. In his show business, darling, lots of families are made up of complete strangers. Yet three girls get together from Peoria, Yonkers, and Death Valley, and if they can harmonize well enough, boom, they're the McAndrew sisters. Ah, fascinating profession. Producing fascinating people. And if you think there is anything personal in that observation, my love, you are quite right. Tell me more about Sidney. Well, he talks like variety magazine. He says he was born in a trunk backstage and his first words were not, Mama and Papa, they were, get a load of that audience. They think they're sitting up with a sick friend. Ah, precocious child, I don't suppose. I let him in, Luisa's at the market, being skeptical about the meat and making nasty remarks about the oranges. Well, the market people have the retort perfect on the first of the month. And then, Sidney, we were expecting you. Well, hello, Dr. Hall. Hello, Sidney. It is Sidney Mullins, isn't it? Yes, sir. Later before flying Mullins? Artists of equilibrium, feats of strength and agility, clean entertainment for the entire family. Drum roll, cordon G, and take a look at the balcony. Think of being up there without food or water. Well, from what I have gathered in several years of being married to an actress, Mr. Mullins. To Sid, sir. Thank you. I have the impression that to perform as the number and quality of the people in an auditorium are of paramount importance. And not only paramount, also the palace. That impression is good for a three-year run, doctor. It's the old story. The manager says, OK, we'll redecorate the theater. How do you want the seats covered? And the producer says, with people. The schmoes out front that pay off the schmoes out back, only those out front have got the edge. They don't have to come back tomorrow. My folks were the c- Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I was vaccinated with a long-playing needle. No, no, don't be sorry. But I'd like to hear about whatever seems to be distressing your Miss Haywood. Oh, she's not sitting is Miss Haywood, William. He's trying his best to get her adopted by a family in Pakistan. Oh, she isn't so bad. It says here in fine print. Look, doctor, the Ivy players have been nominated by the ISPP. The ISPP? The Indicategiate Society for Play Presentations, dear. Yes, they nominated us to compete with seven other colleges. Nationwide contest, best dramatic organization. For student theatricals, this is the Kentucky Derby, with ham instead of horse. I- I take it the finger of fate has tapped you on a sore shoulder. At the sawn is being financial. Sir, I can see why you're president of this culture camp. You're a quick study. Well, it's experience, Sidney. Most problems he encounters can be divided into two groups. One concerning money and the other concerning not enough of it. Money is an absentee landlord. It's tyranny is most evident when it is not present. But as Duke Gerald of Tuscany so well said, the precious metals are neither gold nor silver. They are the warm bronze of health and the cold steel of curry. So that's very good. Thank you. Just how desperate are your straights, Sidney? Well, if somebody gave us $14, we'd have $9 because we owe five. Here's how it is, sir. We'd like to get into this competition because we think we could win against those other jokers in a dark theater on a rainy day during Holy Week with a pit-band of six ocarinas playing the deadmarch from Saul. But here's the gimmick. Travel and production expenses are to be paid by the competing colleges. Well, we're so broke if I shoot myself tonight, they can put a penny on only one of my eyes. The Ivy players just use up the treasury buying new scenery and costumes, William. All the money they made on their spring tour. I see. Well, inasmuch as the president of a college usually holds his job by an instinct for raising funds from obscure sources by devious devices for peculiar contingencies, I shall see what I can do to alleviate your distress, Sidney. Dr. Hall, I know this isn't like asking you to pull a rabbit out of a hat. It's more like pulling a base drum out of a flute. If you can do anything to get the show on the road, we'll put up a life-size statue made of ground-up ticket stubs mixed with tears. A statue of me? Well, that's... No, no, sir. No, sir. With you, life-size is too big for us to handle. We'll put up a memorial to the wisest, wise guy who ever lived. The one who first said, go hire a hall. Well, if that's the case, Mr. Pearson, I can't argue with it. Thank you very much for the information. Goodbye. Mr. Pearson, are our financial officer? Yes, Vicki, and if you think Mr. Clarence Wellman is frugal in the name of Ivy, you must meet our Mr. Pearson sometime. They say he is fiscally, so devout, he makes an annual pilgrimage to the Denver Mint. Oh, well, being a financial officer is hardly the job for a spendthrift. Oh, I agree with you. However, with that telephone call, I have exhausted the last possibilities of borrowing money for the Ivy players. Yes, we must apparently raise it ourselves in some way. It's a peculiar situation, isn't it? The best way to raise funds is put on a show. But the best people to put on the show are the ones who need the money. Maybe they shouldn't have spent it all on scenery and costumes. All dressed up and no place to go. Well, today is necessity. Today is necessity. It is tomorrow's folly. And if we all had the faculty of planning for the... Toddy! That's it! What is it, my darling? You just said it! You just said it! Folly is faculty! The faculty folly is what you put on a show! It's sensational! You mean that we should... should I mean the faculty? But it is for ratio, not Professor Dillard. That's magic. I'll sing. And Toddy, Toddy, you can do your piano log, you know? The one about the Hawaiian dancer and the impresario. Oh, no, no, I shouldn't... Oh, really, it's unthinkable. I wouldn't dream of it. I couldn't even... Well, all right. It entertains me, anyway. This is a marvellous idea. Let's start calling people. Oh, I knew I'd get you into the theatre sometime. It's really a promotion for me, isn't it? Promotion from what to what? From president to acting president. Classes were in session as I dropped into the Ivy bookstore the other day to see Marty Fossil who operates the place. So it was pretty quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I didn't think anyone was there as I opened the door and walked in. Hello! Hello in here! Anybody home? I say, anybody home? Shh! Nobody here but just us books, carpenter. And I must say we like it that way. Now, if you don't mind, I'm very busy. Gosh, Marty, I didn't think you were here. From the tone of your voice, I guess you wish I weren't. Oh, you gathered that, did you? Yes. Well, at least I'm sending at the right frequency, but I'm not receiving today. My antenna's down. Marty, it sounds to me like you've been sitting in here reading the books you sell instead of concentrating on selling them. Well, is that different? You don't confine yourself merely to selling Schlitz beer to other people. You drink a bottle too now, and then don't you? I certainly. Anything I tell people about Schlitz beer, I mean. When I say that Schlitz tastes so good to so many people it's America's best-like beer, I'm giving my personal testimony about Schlitz. When I say that... Okay, you've made your point, Ken. And that part about your personal testimony intrigues me. Why don't you write a book? Me? Write a book? What about for goodness' sake? Well, you might title it Anomalous of Celebrated Schlitz Beer Commercials Compiled by Dr. Kenneth Carpenter. How's that? Gosh, you think I could, Marty? I sure would like to get the word about Schlitz around to as many people as possible about its light, bright taste, sparkling quality, bottle after bottle. It's magnificent. Here, here, let's save that for the paying customers. Hmm. We could probably get about $6 of volume. Prices being what they are. Oh, I couldn't let you sell my book, Marty. I want people to learn about Schlitz from me, free of charge. Such is the fact that sales figures prove that... Okay, you win, Ken. But as long as we're giving things away, let me contribute this. I like Schlitz myself. It's the best brew I ever browsed through. And I've lived through a lot of editions of the beer that made Milwaukee famous. Ah, fine, Marty. What are you saying we step out and sample my favorite best-seller right now? Don't mind if I do. Lead the way, Ken. As we return to the halls of Ivy, we find Dr. and Mrs. Hall eagerly discussing plans for the newly conceived Faculty Follies, an upper echelon production designed to raise money for the student dramatic club, The Ivy Players. Dr. Hall is saying... And you don't think we should call in any outside talent? Any professional entertainers? Oh, no, Toddy. Let's just keep it the Faculty Follies. Just professors, administrative people, like you. And believe me, they all do. They all do what, darling? Like you. Oh, thank you. But I'm not an entertainer. Oh, didn't you tell me as an undergraduate you were in everything? Glee clubs, orchestras, dramatics? Well, good heavens, my sweet. That was a long time ago. I mean, and even then, I wasn't very much of a... That is, I wasn't too bad. In fact, I had some very good reviews. Some fine reviews, really. One critic said, Young William T. Hall, who portrays the character of Carter Gaylord, a riverboat gambler, does so with such a determination to underplay that he is practically cataleptic. Cataleptic? Yes, I treasured that clipping for weeks until I looked up the word cataleptic and found that it meant a condition of peculiar muscular rigidity. Oh, it could have been worse. He might have said catastrophic. Yes. Anyway, he went on to say that I bore a startling resemblance to the late Ronald Coleman. What do you mean late? He's still around. He is? So, getting back to me, I'm sure I don't know what I could contri... Vicki. You thought of something. Did I ever give you, in a moment of exuberance, of course, my rendition of three blind mice as Kipling would have written it? No. Sounds wonderful. Now, do it. Go on. Do it. Do it. Now, please. Don't please, darling. Do it. I'll have to brush up a bit. But how about you? You have such a repertoire. It'll just be a matter of selection. Yeah, but that's the trouble with a big repertoire. You never know what to do. Now, um, let me see. Well, there's a song I did once called A Day with a Knight of the Garter. Hmm. I, uh, I don't think it would be quite... Well, then there was a ballad entitled Send Out for a Handful of Sawdust They've Broken My Dolly's Heart. It sounds just a trifle. You're absolutely right. It was. I know Vicki. Vicki, the one about Alice. Yes. Remember my favorite. Alice. I don't... Oh, oh, yes. Alice's house is like a palace. Is Alice's house. Oh, yes. That's the one. Now, let's, let's see what we have lined up. And there's Professor Heaslip in Something Shakespearean. Oh, must we? Such a pompous little man. Yeah, well, we must at least consider all the available talent we... Talent? Yeah, well, that we can muster up. And discard what we can later. Yeah, all right. Then we have Professor Heaslip doing the first grave digger. And the way he loves to throw the dirt around, he ought to be great. Um, we can get Mr. Dillard in chemistry to do his magic act. Good. He won't lack for assistance, and a number of his students would like to saw him in half. Then you'll do your bit, and I'll sing. Oh, yeah. Wait a minute. We need some dancing. Have you any hoofers on the staff, Doctor? Hoofers? Oh, yes, yes, yes. No, no, no, dear. Well, I don't think so unless I can qualify myself. They tell me that some of my sidestepping around the Board of Governors is worthy of Fred Astaire. But I'll inquire around. Oh, that must be Sid Mullins checking back. Are you writing these down, Toddie? And I'll go to the door. Oh, hurry back, my love. I miss you dreadfully. Now, let me put this down. Heaslip, Shakespearean bit. And short one. Dillard, Legidemain. Vicky, Alice's house. W-T-H, three blind mice and a little kip. Fined, fuffing, croff, if pass. Oh, Dillard, look who dropped in. It is I, Doc, the last of the tobacco-tuned professors. Ah, Professor Warren. Yep, the superannuated, over-aged fire horse. Nice to see you, Joe. You've neglected us. Yes, and you're busy writing another historical novel, Professor. One with a pretty lady on the cover Please, my dear, will you never forgive me for being a successful author who got filthy rich writing comparatively clean literature? No, we've never blamed you for it, Joe. After all, some people cheat at solitaire, some beat their wives, some put buttons in the church collection, and some write historical novels. But what are you carrying there, Professor, in the little black case? This, Doc, contains a gold-plated coronet. Here. A coronet. Then you've heard about it. Oh, this is wonderful. Professor, consider yourself engaged for the run of the play. Think of you rushing over here in this hour of experiment. No, no, no. Just a minute. Hold the phone. What's this all about? Well, you haven't heard about the faculty, Follies? Well, I've heard about a lot of them, but I'm no gossip. No, no, no. Getting off a show, produced, acted, and directed by the faculty members to help out the ID players. And now you come in with your cornet. And I'll go out with it, too, lady. I haven't played this cornet since the Coolidge administration. My motto was keep cool with Coolidge. Get hot with Joe Warren. Yes, but how did you happen to... No, don't go thinking this is a Charlie horse in the long arm of Coincidence, Doc. Burgess, my housekeeper, was spring cleaning and said she was tired of dusting this old cornet. And why didn't I give it to the Ivy Band where it'd be useful? So on the way to the music department, I stop in here to say hello, and I get falsely accused of trying to crash your burlesque show. Oh, what burlesque? We need you, really. A cornet solo would be wonderful. Victoria, a cornet solo, the way I play it, hasn't been wonderful since the curse of a naking heart led the hit parade. I also did glow worm in the Washington Post-March. End of repertoire. Well, Professor, you're being modest. I'm sure that with a little practice, you could... All the things are moving, gentlemen. Excuse me. Well, we've really missed you, Professor. How long since you returned from your lecture talk? Oh, just been back a few days, Doc, and none too soon. I'm just ham enough to enjoy lecturing, but I get tired of suitcases. To me, there is no gladness about a Gladstone bag. Excuse me, Professor Warren. Do you know Sidney Mullins, manager of the Ivy Pairs? I don't think so. Hello, Sidney. Hello, Professor Warren. You signing up for the faculty follies? A little legomania, songs and patter with a grass mat and a bamboo cane? I know more, see, Professor Warren with a bamboo cane during a soft show than I can see myself as a baggy pants comedian with a nose that lights up. Oh, no, sir. You haven't got the right family history for a comic, sir. Comedians have got to have baggy backgrounds and a resentment that lights up. What do you mean by that, Sidney? Well, with comedy, you're fighting something and privileged kids don't have to fight. Look, I'm no psychologist, sir, but I was brought up with fright wigs in the Flugel Street bit and I know comics. With a few exceptions, a comedian was the kid with no dough and a homemade sled who got laughed off the hill by the other kids. So he grew up with the idea of making people laugh with him before they could laugh at him. It's very simple. He just beats him to the punch with a punchline. End of lecture. There will be a special performance in five minutes for men only in the rear ten. Sixth Oriental Dancing Girls will see how... Hey! Well, what's the matter? Look, look, the Bugle. But that's Professor Warren's cornet, Sidney. Well, this is great. A little bugle called Ragon One with a blue spot between the Hamlet and the other... Look, how's your lip, Professor? Well, it's kind of you to inquire, my boy, and I doubt if I have one anymore. Never did I have much of one. Two hours' practice and I'd have lips like a bee-stung U-Bangie. Well, I had to have a special mouthpiece made. Look, without that mouthpiece I couldn't play as good as I did, which was pretty bad. Well, you people want to get on with your plans, so I'll just... No, please, please, Professor. You can't walk out on it. Oh, come on, Joe. Audition. We'll be kind. Yeah! Just play anything, Professor. Well... All right. I'll try one called the Untutored Tutor because I can talk between choruses and rest malipses. Good. You want a downbeat, sir? You want to stamp it off yourself? I'll just sneak up on it. Just give me a little vamp on the piano. Crazy. Ready? When I was a boy in Indiana, my folks wanted me to learn piano. But I'd run and hide till the sun had set, because all I wanted was a brass cornet. I saved up my money in a sold mahog, and they ordered a horn from the catalog. It was a joyous occasion when it came one day with six easy lessons on how to play. I have a tutor, but I learned to toot some fancy arpeggios and stuff to boot. I could play any lorry most all the way through, and the folks were proud of how their little boy blew. Then a medicine show came out our way, and the doc said he needed a man to play. He said I need some music while I hand out the cures, play the billboard march, and the job is yours. I was neat grinding. That was a cornet solo. I don't think I ever heard anything quite like it. Thanks, everybody. When do we start rehearsals? At will. Let me see. We haven't set him up yet, professor. Matter of fact, we haven't even routineed the show yet. We might have you opening, closing, in the middle, or out entirely. Can I tell till we line up the act, you know? Well, just let me know, son. I realize I'm a little rusty, but I'll practice. Where's my cornet case? Oh, let me do it, Mrs. Hall. I'll pack it away for him. Here you are, sir. Now, don't call us. We'll call you. Good day, Joe. Hope we'll see you soon. At the first rehearsal, doc. Bye, everybody. Goodbye. A little rusty, he says. That wasn't rust. That was corrosion. It was dreadful. The question is, how to gracefully prevent his participation without hurting his feelings? Oh, well, I think I've taken care of that, sir. You see this? Oh, good heavens. He forgot to take the mouthpiece for his cornet. Oh, no, sir. He didn't forget it. I palmed it. He'll think it's mislaid, and after the follies, you can say you found it under the piano. Well, Sidney, that was fast-thinking. Fast-thinking. It was a kind act. In this production, we'll need all the kind acts we can find. Excuse me, folks. I forgot something. Here's the cornet to go with that mouthpiece. Give it to someone who can blow it. I'm too old a chicken to lay an egg. Isn't he a cupcake? Yes, our only little trouble disposed of so quickly. Isn't this wonderful, William? A great big project like this with no trouble? No problems? No? I hope nobody whistled in the dressing room. Dr. Hall speaking. Who? Oh, yes, Mr. Wellman. I don't agree. But we're going on with it, nevertheless, Mr. Wellman. Goodbye. Don't tell me, Toddy. I know. He says the show is undignified, degrading, subversive, ridiculous. And he says he has the way to positively prevent us going on with it. What's the way? Well, he didn't specify, but it seemed quite confident. Well, let him try. To quote Ulysses, Come, my friends, push off. And sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down. It may be we shall touch the happy isles. But will the gulfs wash our heroes down? Or will they touch the happy isles? Or will Dr. Hall, that red-blooded fighter for the right, succeeded foiling the villainous Mr. Wellman? Will the lovely Victoria and the ingenious Sidney Mullins win on to victory and lift the mortgage on the ivy players? Tune in next week for the conclusion of this stark thrilling drama of right against might. Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman has been presented by Schlitz, the beer that made Milwaukee famous. The taste of Schlitz. The taste so many people prefer has made Schlitz beer first in sales in the USA. Why don't you two enjoy the most popular beer in history? Next time, every time. Ask for Schlitz beer. Now, here again, our Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Good night, everybody. Good night from all of us. And from our sponsor, the Joseph Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and its thousands of friendly dealers throughout the nation. Bye, good night. At the same time at the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Professor Warren is played by Arthur Q. Bryan and Sidney Mullins was Sidney Miller. Tonight's script was written by Don Quinn and Charles Henry. Music was composed and conducted by Henry Russell. The Halls of Ivy was created by Don Quinn, directed by Milton Merlin, and presented for the Joseph Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. To invite you to enjoy on television, the Schlitz Playhouse of Stars with Helen Hayes, Margaret Sullivan, Lillian Gish, and more of the brightest names of Hollywood and Broadway. Say you're a newspaper for time and channel. Ken Carpenter speaking. Oh, we love that surrounding spirit. The NBC Radio Network for the very finest in radio listening. At this spot on your dial, you can be sure...