 From Hollywood, California, the Lux Radio Theatre presents Fred McMurray and Madge Evans in Up Pops the Devil. This presents Hollywood. Or perhaps I should say, you present Hollywood. For your loyalty to our products makes this program possible. Heading tonight's presentation are Fred McMurray and Madge Evans. Our guests, Jimmy Starr, a screen columnist, and Howard Greer, internationally famous dress designer. Our music is directed by Louis Silvers. While the entire production is under the personal direction of Hollywood's most eminent personality. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. For years, the motion picture business has had its unwritten laws. An invisible code, authored by experience and enforced by tradition. For example, it's become almost dogma. But if a film isn't an immediate success, it never will be. That the public will stay away from pictures about religion or Hollywood. That anyone achieving success in Western films will fail in all other kinds. That a star who is slipped can never stage a comeback. That no one famous as a child can ever duplicate that fame as an adult. The exceptions to all, but the last unwritten law have been many. But the only girl I know renowned as a child and again as a leading woman is Madge Evans. In films since she was three years old, her star has never waned. So born of English parents, a world famous artist not long ago termed her the typical American girl. Which in her case means a girl with ash blonde hair and gray green eyes who weighs 116 pounds, owns three dogs and reads and walks for recreation. We hear Madge tonight as Anne Merrick and Fred McMurray as Steve, her husband. Fred is dividing his time these days between Paramount Studio where he's playing opposite Carol Lombard in True Confession and the home which he's recently purchased in Brentwood Heights. Give Fred some time off and you're pretty sure to find him skeet shooting or improvising tunes on his old love, the saxophone. From the original New York cast, come Janet Mcglay as Luella Mae Carroll and John Marston as Gilbert Morrell. On to the play. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Up Pops the Devil by Gilbert Hackett and Francis Goodrich starring Fred McMurray and Madge Evans. The 40th floor of a New York City skyscraper. In the inner sanctum of a publisher's office, Gilbert Morrell, a firm's editor, is hunched over his desk, absorbed in a blue-covered manuscript. There's a knock at the door and his secretary appears. Mr. Morrell. Mm-hmm. Mrs. Merrick is here. Oh, well ask her to come in, will you? Hello, Gil. Anne, how are you? How did be all, Miss Hart? Yes, sir. Anne, sit down while you're looking splendid. I'm feeling it. Marriage agreeing with you? Beautifully? Well, good. You'll be smitten ages since I saw you. Well, did you read the manuscript? Oh, yes, just finished it. Anne? Well, it's pretty good. Oh, is that all, Gil? Just pretty good? If you want me to be frank, is it yours? Mine? Oh, no, it's Steve's. Steve's? My husband. Oh, I didn't know he was a writer. He isn't, exactly. I mean he's never had anything published, but he loves writing. I think it's the only thing in the world he really wants to do. And when does he find time for his writing? Well, Sunday morning, Saturday afternoon. Just then? Well, he has his job other days, and sometimes he writes late at night. Gil, I thought his last one was a grand story. I still think so. Oh, no, don't act that way. I don't say he can't write. I don't say the story isn't good. It is, Anne, but it's not good enough. You expect to get anywhere on this writing game, you've got to make it your whole job. Not just Sunday mornings and late at night. You've got to really work at it. Then if, uh, well, if Steve gave up his job, you think he could make a living at writing? Yes, eventually. Just when is eventually? Oh, I should say in a year and a half. Maybe even a year. That's entirely up to him. Oh. I wish you'd tell him that. Me? We were going out tonight. It's our first anniversary, a celebration. Can you join us? Well, I don't know. Oh, we'd love to have you, and I know you'll like Steve. All right, copy it. May I use your phone? Certainly. Steve ought to be in it Saturday. Where are you living? Oh, we've got a two-by-four apartment on 8th Street. Venice Village? Do you like it? Well, it's, uh, it's hectic, but it's cheap. Hello, you can't get in. Hello, yes, this is Steve. Oh, hello, Anne. What? Well, wait a minute, wait a minute. Hey, take it easy. Will you buy me? Hello? Yes, that's the piano. It's binding at George. They, uh, they just dropped in. I said it's binding at George. Hey, binding, will you lay off a minute? Hello? Yeah, I, I said it's... Oh, hello, Anne. How are you? Yeah, yeah, that, uh, that is, I was working until these two leasebreakers came in. Oh, yeah, I like that guy. I'm insulted. Come on, Bonnie, let's go home. Not after that. I'm gonna heckle him. Okay, darling. You coming right home? I'll hop in the cab then, huh? All right. Goodbye, darling. That's a fine thing. A couple of bosom pals drop in to congratulate a guy and his first anniversary, and what happens? You could die a thirst while he makes love to his wife. It's depressing. I'm sorry, George, but, uh, Saturday's my afternoon at the typewriter. Your fellow should have let me know you were coming. How's the new novel, Steve? Rotten, thanks. I wrote a novel once, but I left it laying around the house and my wife threw it out. She thought it was trash. Yeah, she was probably right. Right. The best things you ever wrote, George, were the movie reviews for the examiner, remember them? Yeah, the picture at the Circle Theater this week is first-rate entertainment. But the stage presentation, conceived and executed by Beine Hatfield, is truly a sight. Mm-hmm. The exit march was enjoyed by all. I miss those, George. You ought to go back to being a critic. Yeah, I ought to go back to being something. Hey, look, fellas, I hate to bust up the reminiscences, but Ann and I were figuring out a little celebration, and, uh, come in, come in. Everybody's welcome. Hey, shut up, will you? Oh, uh, hello? Oh, I hope you'll forgive me for breaking in on you like this, but I'm in terrible trouble. Well, uh, what's the matter? I wonder if you could help me. There's something upstairs in my room. What is it? I'm just terrified. Oh, what is it? I think it's a bat. Oh, a bat? Mm-hmm. It flew in the wind, and oh, I'm just so scared. Well, where is your room? Right upstairs. I left the door open. Yeah, it's a good idea. It'll probably fly right out again. Oh, hello. Hello. Do you really think it'll fly out again? Oh, of course. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. I'm such a baby. If it got in my hair, I'd just naturally die. Oh, but bats don't get in people's hair. When it flew in, I thought, oh, what'll I ever do? And then I thought of coming down here and asking you. I hope you don't mind, but I almost feel as if I know you. I mean, we pass each other in the hall so often. My name's Luella. Luella Mae Carroll. How do you do? How do you do? You're Mr. Merrick, aren't you? Yes. I know. I've seen your name on the doorbell. Well, if you're sure, it's all right for me to go upstairs again. Oh, I think so. Well, goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Bye. Bye. Well, now, what would you call that? That, my friend, is the pretty little girl upstairs. She has bats. And I know where. Come on now, fellas. Clear off for a while, will you? We'll meet you at the Savoy at 7. Who's we? Ann and I. We're celebrating, and you're both invited. But no tucking your napkin under your collar, Bonnie. I can fix that. I won't wear a collar. How about you, George? Can you make it? Me? Oh, no. Now I've got to get back to Westchester. The little woman's invited half of Park Avenue up the cocktail. Oh, well, then. Thanks just the same. Say, I've got to beat it. Just about got time. So long, Bonnie. So long. So long, Steve. Someday I'll take a day off from the wife and we'll get together for a real day. OK, so long, George. Well, there he goes. He used to be a real guy, that fella. Look at him now. Running home with his tail between his legs. Today's the first time I've seen him in months. Yeah, it's the first time anybody's seen him since he married the Steckel Millions. Now, it's a darn shame taking a fella like that and trying to make a pink tea expert out of him. He could really write once. Why didn't he keep it up? No incentive. The guy's being supported and he knows it. Anyway, she makes him spend most of his time being social. She certainly got him a lick. I tell you, a man's got to feel important. He's got to have the little woman waiting at home for him, telling him how grand he is, and asking him for car fare. How do you know, bachelor? I'd look at guys like you. Well, take a look at the outside door, will you, Bonnie? I've got some work to do before Anne gets home. Steve, Steve, are you home? Here. Oh, hello, darling. I was just getting dressed. Hello, darling. Did you get my present this morning? Well, just what I needed. Did you get mine? No, not yet. Oh, that's right. I only wanted this afternoon. Oh, well, I guess that's why. Here you are. Blush box and everything. Oh, Steve, you didn't. Go on, take a look. Oh, Steve, it's... It's a bracelet. Oh, it's beautiful. Do you like it? Like it? Or would you shouldn't have spent so much money? Oh, what's the difference? I'm going to be a rich and famous author someday. Quick, give us a kiss. Look at your mouth. It's not if I got too much rouge on. Well, you have now. Give me a handkerchief. I thought you'd be all dressed, darling. Oh, three shakes. Oh, uh, wine, he's coming along. Oh, is he? Yeah, I invited him. I had to to get rid of him this afternoon. But I invited someone, too. Gilbert Morrell. Morrell? The publisher? I... I sent your manuscript to him. Say, he's important. What did he say? He wants to speak to you at dinner. You know, you had your nerve to send my stuff to him. Oh, it was all right. I used to know him years ago. I think he was my first love. A real schoolgirl crush. Oh, yeah? Am I supposed to be jealous? Mm-hmm. Terribly. Well, I am. Hurry, darling. We can't keep him away. And that's what I told Anne. A year, a year and a half. It's up to you, Steve. You could do it, Steve. I know you could. But it would have to be all right, Steve. Nothing else. No other job, huh? Well, thanks, Doctor. I feel much better. Let's forget the whole thing. Well, Steve, that's childish. No, darling. Let's not talk about it. You know you don't want to stick at that filthy job you have now. Did I ever say that? No, but I know. Now, will you be a good little wench and shut up? I don't know. What's the matter with you? There isn't anything the matter with me, except that I'm too smart and I have a good appetite. What are you supposed to be living on while I was learning to be a writer? We'd get along. Don't you know someone who could stake you? No. My friends are almost as poor as I am. Steve, you're impossible. So is the whole idea. You know very well that I could. Could what? Nothing. Biney dance with me, will you? Sure. This is what you get for arguing, Steve. I'm dancing with him. Keep your toes in, Anne. Not bad. Not bad at all, Anne. Oh, I was always light on my feet. As a matter of fact, I took dancing lessons for years, Biney. My teachers all said I was terrific. You didn't know that, did you? Sounds like a buildup. It is, Biney. Yeah, what for? I'm angling for a job in the stage show at the circle. Yeah, sure. I mean it, Biney. Go on, you wouldn't want that. Why not? You wouldn't work on a chorus. What's wrong with it? Well, it's too hard. Hard? Yeah. You start rehearsing at 10, then you give a performance. Just as you start to take off your costume, you hear your music, another performance. Rehears, grab a sandwich, another performance. Rehears, another performance. Now, when you get home at night, you're lucky if you can stand up. I could do it, Biney. I'm sure I could. Well, if you want the job, I'll get it for you, but... Thanks, Biney. I'll remember that. Watch out for the footstool, honey. Oh! Well, it's small, but it's home. Turn on the lights, huh? Here, I'll take your rap. Thanks. I still say you're going to write a grand book someday, Steve. My best critic and severest friend. He's nice, isn't he? Gilbert, I mean. Swell. I used to be crazy about him. I still think he's pretty grand. Whoa! He said such nice things about you. He said you could write. And now I want to tell you something. Oh, going to work on me again, huh? Yes. Darling, are you still happy? You know I am. They say the first year is the hardest. Can you believe it's a year? Seems like ten. What? I mean seven. What? Well, two weeks, but you're getting it for a bargain. This is the day we were going to decide things. Yes. Any complaints? Plenty. What? Well, you've never asked me where I've been. You're not jealous. You don't nag. And above all, you look too pretty in the morning. I'll make a note of that. Must nag. Mustn't look pretty. But in spite of that, I'm hooked for life. Have you any complaints? Yes. One. Shoot. I want you to do what Gilbert said. Give up your job. Now and... I want you to write. I don't want anything but you. Now you don't, but... Now and forever. And this is the first time I've ever been happy in my life. This is the first time I've ever had a real home, anyone I cared for, anyone I wanted to take care of. And I'm not going to throw it away on a chance. But Steve... Now it's all set. We've had a year. We're still on speaking terms. We're going on. Steve, don't you see? You're going to hate me if I keep you from your writing. I couldn't hate you. You will someday after this magic is gone. It won't ever go. It's because of me you won't do it, isn't it? You know, I just thought of something. What? You've got the loveliest mouth. Answer me, Steve. What? It's because of me you won't give up your job. Because I'm dependent on you. Well, yes. Then I'll have to leave you. I'd like to see you try it. Hey, what goes on? Who are you calling? A very dear friend of mine, darling. That's nice. Do I know him? I think you've met the gentleman. Hello? Hello, Beiney? Beiney. It's Anne. I wanted to ask you something. Did you mean that about the job at the Circle? Say, let's not do these things. Now that I'm tired, let's go to bed. Of course I wanted to. I wouldn't be calling you. You don't want that job. I can have it? Hooray! When do you want me to report? Tomorrow morning, 9.30. Oh, Beiney, you're a darling. I'll be there at 9.30. You'll never get up that early. Wait a minute. Beiney, how much does that job pay? What? I'll be there at 9. Goodbye. How the heck you will. Steve, it's wonderful. Do you know what that job pays? $50 a week. And Beiney says it's deafness, and it'll go on week after week. Anne, do you really want to do it? Of course I do. Then you can give up your job. My job? What are you talking about? Don't you see, darling? I can support you. What? If we cut out all the parties, we can easily live on that, Steve. Just until you finish the book. Oh, it's a perfect solution. Are you serious? Of course I am. Now you listen to me. I think it's great of you to think of this thing, but I won't let you do it. Why not? Well, it's impossible. What the... I don't want to write. We're happy. Look here, Steve. You're just discouraged because Gilbert turned down the book. I'm not discouraged. I'll write. This is your chance. Will you take it? No. All right, then. We said we'd separate after a year if we weren't satisfied. I'm not satisfied. Say, what's the matter with you? I mean it, Steve. You mean if I don't quit my job, sit back and let you do the work? You'll leave me? Yes. I couldn't do it. I can't have you supporting me. Well, then I'm lending you the money. Is that better? Sounds better. Will you do it? It won't be long. Not more than a year. A year? I could write four books in a year. Then prove it. All right, I will. It's all set? Now wait a minute. It's all set. All right. When do we start? Tomorrow. Here's your first loan to bind the bargain. What's that for? Household money. Household money? That's your job now. Well, I'm going to bed. I've got to get up at eight. You'd better come too. You've got to get up at seven and get my breakfast. Oh, yeah? No, no, no. The Lutz Radio Theater's production of Up Pops the Devil continues in just a moment. In the meantime, we take you to the dormitory of a Western college to the attractive room of one of the girls who happens to come from Hollywood. A large partial post package lies on the desk. Why, Jeannie, what do you care what's in my package? Well, I'm hungry. And I thought maybe there was something to eat in. You greedy little thing. This isn't food at all. It's something to wear. Well, next to food, I like clothes. Come on, open it and let me see. Oh, all right. But you open it if you want to. Oh, Marsha, look. It's a new undie. See, they're lovely. I never saw anything so beautiful. I didn't expect these. Why, they're just like those of mothers I like so well. And look, there's something else tucked down here in the box. A big package of luxe flakes. Aha, isn't that a surprise? No, not exactly. Mother always sends luxe along with anything special, just to be sure it gets the care it deserves. She doesn't realize how fussy I am about always having luxe on him to protect my undies and sweaters and things. Well, why should you worry? You never wear your things out in any way you have so now. Jeannie, don't be silly. I want to keep my things nice looking just as long as I can. That's why I always luxe them. Well, these things are so exquisite, I'd be afraid to wash them at all. But haven't you heard the slogan, anything safe in water is safe in luxe? Mother says that's because luxe flakes haven't any harmful alkali. When you come to Hollywood, you can ask her. She'd love to tell you all about it. Mr. DeMille takes us back to our play. We continue with Up Pops the Devil, starring Fred McMurray and Madge Evans. With Anne working in the chorus and paying the bills, Steve went ahead rapidly on his new book. But now, after four months, the situation is beginning to pawl. It's late afternoon, and Steve, at his typewriter, is trying vainly to concentrate, interrupted repeatedly by the routine of housekeeping. Who is it? Laundry. Laundry will bring it in. Good evening, Mr. Merrick. Hello. Just leave it there, will you? Say, it's about time you came. I've been waiting for a shirt since Thursday. Well, I was up here this afternoon. There was nobody home. Well, why didn't you leave it? The other fellow always did. Yeah, that's why he got fired. Too easy. Didn't collect the bills. Say, you smell something burning? Oh, holy cats, it's the dinner. Wait a minute. You cooking? Well, I can guess what it is. Don't tell me now. Uh, blanketed chicken. Is that right? I don't know what it is now. It's all black. Hey, leave that stuff unbeated, will you? But the boss said that... Oh, he gods. Hello? What? No, it isn't. You've got the wrong number, madam. Well, what are you waiting for? Pick up the dirty stuff, will you? I'm busy. Where is it? It's in the bedroom. Look for it. Who is it? It's me. Hello, Luella. What do you want? I've got something to tell you. Listen, Luella. I'm awfully busy. Oh. You look so cute in that apron. What? Oh. Oh, don't take it off. I like it. Luella, what do you want? I... I told you. I have something to tell you. Well, look, couldn't it wait for a while? You told me four things this morning and three things this afternoon. I'm up to my neck right now and I... But something terrible has happened, Steve. You just got to help me. Oh, what's the matter this time? And you're curling iron-busset again? Now, don't laugh at me. I'm serious. Well, come on. What is it? Just a velvet's gonna be married. Isn't that mean? Yeah. Yeah, that's terrible. Excuse me, will you? Well, it is mean. She's gonna be married right away. And that means I've got to go home. That's fine. I mean... I mean, yes. I've got to get the train tonight. That's what's so awful. See you. What must I do? What do you mean? Well, how do I get my ticket? Oh, that's easy. There's a man at the station who sells them. Could you come with me? I'm sorry, Llewela, but I... I couldn't make it. Now, I'm as busy as a dick. Oh, Steve, you never do anything I ask you to. You never take me anywhere. Now, Llewela, please. Can't you see I'm busy? Oh, all right. Should I come back later? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Goodbye, Llewela. Goodbye. See you later. I guess this is stuff you mean. Huh? Why, the dirty laundry. Is this it? Oh, yes, that's it. Leave the clean stuff by the door. Sorry, mister. I got orders not to leave this laundry until you pay what you owe. Oh, yeah. I owe you a couple of bucks. $10.25. What? Why, you ain't paid a cent in a month. All right. Come back tomorrow. Sure. I'll bring the laundry back then, too. Oh, hey, wait a minute. Leave me one shirt, will you? And have them fire me? Mm-mm. So long. So long, Shylock. Hello. No, madam. No, madam. I've told you seven times. This is not Jake's delicatessen store. 8.30 tonight. 8.30 for the last show. Hello, Ann. Hello, Barney. How are you? You look tired. I am a little. I'll be all right. Why don't you take a night off? And get dark. Thanks. But we need the money too much. Let me nickel, will you, Barney? Say, it isn't that bad, is it? I want to make a phone call. Sure. Here. Thanks, Barney. Hello? Is this Dr. Coyle's office? Dr. Coyle, please. Hello? This is Mrs. Merrick again, doctor. Just about the same. Will you be in for half an hour? All right. I'll drop in on my way home. Thank you. Who is it? It's Ann. Oh. I forgot my key. How are you, darling? All right, I guess. What's the matter? I ruined the dinner. That's all. Again? What did you say? Nothing. I don't care about dinner anyway. What's wrong with you? I'm all right. You don't look well. Oh, I'm just tired. Oh, I'm a dirty swine. Hey, you've been working all day. You come home tired and the dinner's spoiled. It doesn't matter. All I want is coffee. How did your work go today? Oh, fine. I worked hard. That's grand. Everything's going along all right now. I'm glad. I'm such a fool. I get so terribly anxious, Steve. Oh, why? Well, I want you to finish this. Gee, I'm going to. Soon? Sure. I'm shooting right ahead now. Where is your work? Oh, never mind about that. Come over here. Steve. What? Is this all you've done? One page. Oh, holy cats. Yes, that's all I've done. Why did you lie to me? Because I'm so tired of arguments. Did you try? Did you ever sit down and try to write? Yes, I've tried. Trying doesn't get you anywhere. Oh, Steve, what's the matter? I'm in a rut. I never go anywhere. I never see anybody. I just stick around here all day. You said before you couldn't write because you had no time. You had a job. People kept dropping in. Now you've got nothing but time. And still you can't write. Well, I'm dull. No man can write when he's dull. What do you want to do? I don't know. I know I do it. Darling, do you know you didn't kiss me when I came in? I'm sorry. This whole business has gotten under my skin the last few weeks. It's made it impossible for me to be close to you. Is that it? I just wanted it because I haven't changed. I still want you. Oh, and I'm sorry I spoiled your dinner. I wasn't hungry. I'm just an egg. You're a swell egg. You know, if you could get a night off, maybe we could go someplace. Couldn't you take one night off? No, I mustn't. Well, you said the other girls did. Yes, but they docked them for it. They couldn't dock you. You've just been paid today. Oh, don't worry. They take it out of next week. No, I'll go back to the factory. Hey, look, how about me calling for you at the stage door tonight? You pretend you don't know me and I'll pick you up, huh? Oh, darling, you'd better spend that time working. Oh, all right. Oh, Anne, would you let me have $10 tonight? $10? Yeah. That's a lot of money, Steve. I know. Well, take it out of the household money. There isn't any. Oh, don't be silly. I put $28 behind the clock last Saturday. Where did it go? Well, the milk bill, the butcher, the grocer, and the laundry man. And listen, will you let me have $10? What do you want it for? If I could only have some money without having to account for it, I'm only borrowing it. But we're spending more money than we make, Steve. We've always spent more than we make and we're still alive, aren't we? I think the best plan is for me to keep the money and pay the bills. Well, why come here? Well, I'll give you an allowance. Oh. How much were you planning to give me? Well, do you think $7 a week would be all right? $7? Don't you think that's too much? Well, then what $5 do? Good Lord, $5 a week. Well, Steve, we're both working for the same thing, aren't we? You know everything I have is yours. Then give me $10. What for? All for Pete's sake. Here it is. I don't want it. That's childish. Well, let's not talk about it. All right. It's there on the table. I've got to go. Man, what time are you coming home tonight? Right after the show, of course. Why? You were late last night. Gil turned up. That's a habit of his, isn't it? I notice he doesn't turn up down here. He doesn't want to interrupt your work. My work? A lot of he cares about that. Oh, darling, please. He's crazy about the first chapters you sent him. Yeah, he must be. Steve, what makes you act this way? Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know what to... Where'd you go? Out for a sandwich and then to his place. Alone? Should I have had a chaperone? It's just the same view. I wish you wouldn't. A little over a year ago, you wouldn't have said that, Steve. Well, we weren't married. Then you're my wife now. Oh, I see. Well, I need some diversion after working. Work? You call that work? You try hanging around this place all day, never going anywhere, never seeing anyone. Seems to me Llewell is here enough keeping you from your work. What? Do you know how things are? What do you mean? That I'm working so you can stay home and write? Of course she doesn't. Then I'll tell her. What are you trying to do? That girl doesn't mean a thing to me. You know that. But she's the one person left who doesn't know I'm being supported. Can't you leave me one person who's got some respect for me even if it's only someone I pass in the hall? You made me a fool before everyone else. Made a fool of you? I'm just trying to make you amount to something. Stevie, won't you please take me to the... Oh. Hello, Llewell. Anything I can do for you? I just wanted to ask Steve something. I'm such a baby. I don't know what I'd do without him. And I've got to go home tonight. That's a billboard. Sister Belle was being married. How nice. Couldn't you come to the station when they see you? I'm sorry, Llewell. I told you. Just to the ticket office. Those men are always so cross. I'm afraid he can't. Steve's got to work tonight. His publisher is waiting for him to finish his book. Oh. Wait a minute. I think it would be fine, Llewell. What? I'd be delighted to do it for you. Oh, I see. Well, I've got to go. Good night, Steve. You'll find your allowance on the table. Good night. Allowance? What did you... Shut up. See you. All right. I'm sorry. Let me alone, will you? I'm sorry, too. I guess I've kept you from your work lots of times. Thank you. And goodbye. Wait. You're not going yet. Oh, I must. You're not? I haven't got my reservation yet. Forget it. I'll see that you get your ticket and I'll put you on your train. Oh, Steve, could you? Of course I could. But first of all, we're going out on a party. A grand farewell party. What do you think of that? Oh! I'd like to see Anne Merrick, please. Sorry. No one allowed backstage. But the show's over. She... Never mind. Here she is. Anne. Oh, Gil. I got you a message. Anything wrong? Well, I didn't have any dinner. Come on. I know a place. I think you need a little cheering up. That's the story, Gil. Oh, I shouldn't have done it, I guess. He's probably sore at me. I can't blame him much. Well, I'm afraid this arrangement is getting under his skin. You know, Steve's always been on his own. Done as he pleased. Now that he has to count for everything... Up pops the devil. Yes. It's too bad. I don't know if I should tell you this. Steve asked me for an advance last week. He did? It was okay. But when he heard it had to come out of my own pocket, he turned it down. Gil, that's the sort of thing that scares me. I give him money, enough for everything. What does he do with it? Every cent counts now. Anne, if you're hard up... Oh, wait. You haven't heard my news. Don't laugh too loud, Gil. But I'm going to have a baby. Anne, poor that swell. But that's grand. I just heard the glad tidings this evening. Well, it sort of knocked me for a loop. Does Steve know? No. I'd like to see his face. What do you tell him? But I'm not going to tell him. Not yet. But it's a thing he needs. Quite'll make him feel like a million dollars. Oh, no, I don't want him to feel any responsibility. He'd think he'd have to go back to his job. Give up his writing. I don't want that. I can go on helping Steve and I'm going to do it. Don't you go and tell him. I will tell him. But there's one thing I'm going to insist on if I'm to be a party to this. I'm not going to have you worried about money. I'm going to give you a check. I know, Gil. Just so that if you don't feel like dancing, you can quit. But I... All right. I couldn't take your money, Gil. Well, we'll call it a loan, then. And we'll take it out on Steve just as soon as you make him a rich and successful author. Well? All right. That's a good, Gil. Oh, you're swell, Gil. You know, I rather like the idea of having a baby. Now I'm getting used to it. Of course you do. I wonder what Steve will say when I... Well, what's the matter? Don't look now, Gil. But he's here. Who is? Steve. Over there in the corner. He's entertaining our dear little friend from upstairs. Anne. So that's where the money goes. Anne, stop it. He's taking her out on my money. Don't be silly, Anne. Sit down. I'm going to speak to him. Anne. Anne, come here. That's so funny. Hello, Steve. Oh. Oh. Hello. Hello, Gil. Hello, Steve. Sit down. I thought you were home working, Steve. I was. I'm not now. Is this what you wanted the $10 for? Anne, please. Luella, Steve's taking you around a lot, hasn't he? Why, now he's bought your supper. Yes. Well, let me tell you this. Every time he took you out, I paid for it. Shut up. And when he gave you this supper, I paid for it. I've worked hard to get that money. Shut up. I won't shut up. I wanted you to tell her, but you wouldn't. It's the truth. She ought to know it. Then go on, tell her. Tell everybody. She's supporting me, Luella. She buys my clothes. She buys my food. She pays the rent. Are you satisfied? Cleaning. Anne, you shouldn't have. I don't care. It was the truth. I don't care. All right. Thanks for bringing me home, Gil. Good night. I'll call you in the morning. Steve. Oh, I'm glad you're here. I won't be for long. Where are you going? I want to tell you something. Haven't you said enough? All I want is to get out. Steve, I want to tell you something. Something important. There's just one thing I want to tell you. That supper tonight was the first money I ever spent on Luella. Then what have you done with the money? Well, if you must know, I've been paying installments on your anniversary present. When I bought that bracelet, I didn't know I wasn't going to have any money of my own. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to know you were paying for your own present. I knew I could pay it back and you're going to get it back every last cent of it. I'm going to get a job and feel like a man again. Oh, you can't go back to that job again. You can. Anything would be better than this. You don't think I can do anything. You don't believe in me. Don't believe in you. After all I've done for you after I really killed myself working so hard. Oh, if it was so hard, why didn't you quit? Because I couldn't. Why couldn't you? Because you had to support me. Well, you don't have to support me. I've made money before and I can make it again. You don't have to go back to that job. Here's your check. You don't need that job. What check? Well, it's an advance on your work. Gilbert gave it to me tonight. Here. Yeah? He wouldn't give it to me. I asked him. He said any money would have to come out of his own pocket. Steve, I want to tell you something. You think I'm a fool? This check is made out to you. What do you mean? It isn't for me. For my work. He gave it to you. Girlhood crush, huh? Get out. You were up at his place. You've been sneaking out with him every night. Get out. I'm making the money. This is my place. And if you don't like what I'm doing, you can get out. Yeah, that's swell. Go on back to your job. Be a nobody all your life. A nobody? A nobody? That's what I've been for four months. Cooking, sweeping, answering bells, having to beg you for every nickel. That's what I've been a nobody. I'm sick and tired of the whole business. For Station Identification, this is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Pausing between scenes of Up Pops the Devil, our trip to backstage Hollywood finds us meeting Jimmy Starr. Once a struggling writer like Steve Merrick in our play, he's now motion picture columnist for the Los Angeles Herald and Express. His alliance with films began when he got a job putting up the marquee signs announcing new shows for a theater. But he couldn't spell, so he became a publicity man. He was an extra in the early Tarzan films, worked as a Keystone Cup for Mack Senate, and once danced for three hours with Mae Murray. Jimmy originated the full-page idea for film news, and I'm giving him his chance now to originate something on the air. I was hoping you would extend that dare, Mr. DeMille. As a matter of fact, I have some suggestions on how to conduct a radio program. Naturally, Mr. Starr, naturally, I expected that. Remember, we have millions of listeners, and I don't want anything to happen that would offend them. I know, I know. I'm not exactly picking on you, Mr. DeMille. It's guys like Winchell and Fiddler. When they start dealing out news about Hollywood, they miss a chance to tell the story the way it should be told over the radio. After all, we're dealing with sound. My idea is simply this. Now, suppose Simone Simone and Gene Markey really got serious. I'd explain it with something like this. I understand. Wedding bells. Right. And suppose... And that? Martha Ray tearing up her marriage license. Any others to offer? Certainly. What's this? Sounds like someone taking a bath. Not quite, but you're catching on. It's a housewife washing dishes in lux flakes, of course. And this? Oh, you got me there, Jimmy. Well, that's the sound made by the hands of another housewife when she runs them over her husband's face. It's not even cracked, you see. She doesn't use lux flakes for washing dishes. Poor woman. She's been using some other soap with that harmful alkali in it. I thought that maybe the husband needed to shave. Oh, no. The hands of the same lady on the same husband sound like this when she uses lux. As smooth and as soft as a song. Even a columnist knows that. Now, here's an easy one. Very simple. That woman just dropped the dishes she was washing. That's loopy valet and Johnny Weissmuller spending a quiet evening at home. Clever, Mr. Starr. But how about stepping from your critical pose for a moment and sticking to your last, what doing around town? Okay. Here are a few things that happened only a few moments ago that will make tomorrow's headlines. If you want any more information about the personalities mentioned, write me in care of the Lux Radio Theatre Hollywood. New scoop number one. Mark down April 13th as the wedding gate for Lily Ponds and Andre Costellanis who sailed for Europe on that day. The ceremony will be performed on board. Miss Ponds has always considered number 13 her luckiest. New scoop number two. A lovers' spat which may become permanent is the cause of Tyrone Power taking a plane to New York to spend five days visiting Jeanette Gaynor. Sonya Henney and Tyrone haven't spoken to each other since last Tuesday. News note number three. Greta Garbo is packing up her duds to return to Sweden for four months. The mysterious movie made will slip out of Hollywood sometime within three weeks, but not without first signing a new contract with Metro-Gowan mayor. Screen scoop number four. Virginia Bruce and director J. Walter Rubin are tuning up the wedding bells. They're so in love. Virginia has already put her okay on a lot on which Walter will build their love nest. Screen scoop number five. Producer David Selznick loudly denies that Goddard has been assigned the coveted role of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind. That's true, but it's a ten-to-one bet she gets the part. News note number six. Charlie Chaplin, who vowed he would never make a talky, will speak in his next picture. News note number seven. On location in Bel Air, Catherine Hepburn formed a softball team and challenged some kids playing in a vacant lot. Carrie Grant pitched. Katie played third base and director Howard Hawks covered second base. Katie played eighth to eighth in favor of the movie team. Katie hit a home run, stole two bases and the kids won't know until they hear this that they were playing with the elusive Catherine Hepburn. And thanks for letting me talk, Mr. DeMille. And now, letting sound tell the story again, here's a way to say goodbye to a columnist. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Jimmy Starr. And now back to Fred McMurray and Madge Evans and up pops the devil. Two more months have gone by. Steve and Anne have been separated since the night he left the apartment. But now Anne is planning to see him again. Once again. To settle the matter of their divorce. In Gilbert's office, she sits twisting her handkerchief and glancing frequently at the clock. Where are you meeting him? At the park Crescent. We're having lunch. Would you like to come, Gil? Good Lord, no. But what's the matter? Are you scared? Well, I'm not exactly, but I wish it were over. You hadn't heard from him at all? No. Just those weekly money orders. He sent me another this morning. $100. I wish he wouldn't do things like that. I'm trying to dislike him. His war debt. He said he'd pay it all back to me. You've quite a collection. What are you going to talk about at lunch? The divorce. He doesn't know anything about it yet. Will you tell him you're going to marry me? Yes. And when are you going to tell me? Oh, Gil, you're a darling. But I couldn't marry you. You're still in love with him, aren't you? I tell you I hate him. The only thing we're going to discuss is the lawyer's instructions. But you might want to tell him about the baby. I'll never do that. But it isn't right not to tell him. Gil, please. I know what I'm doing. I hope so, Anne. Would there be anything else, sir? I don't think so. Anne? Well, enjoy the lunch? Yes. Thank you. I hear you're not at the circle anymore. No, I left a few weeks ago. I... I was glad when you sent for me. I'd have sent for you sooner if I'd known where you were. Was there anything special you wanted to see me about? Yes. It's about the divorce. Divorce? What divorce? Ours. I went to see a lawyer. Wait a minute. What is it? Do you mean this? Yes, Steve. A lawyer? Well, Anne, how could you go to a lawyer? What did you expect me to do? Well, it's just you and me. What's between us is nobody's business. Unfortunately, when we got married it became the state's business. Anne, this is you and me. You can't act like this. It's a shame, isn't it? So much easier just walking out. Can't we settle it between ourselves? Well, we could have if we hadn't been such fools as to have gotten married. What wasn't marriage that made us unhappy, it was me. I'm sorry, Steve. I lost my sense of importance. I couldn't write. I couldn't do anything. You could fight, though. Of course I could fight. I was just trying to convince myself I was somebody. I had to fight. Can't you see that? It didn't matter about what. It did to me. Well, I guess that's all. Anne, you're leaving me for something I said when I was so mad I couldn't see straight. Listen, Anne, you're my whole life. I haven't anything but you. These two months I've been so lonely for you, I could hardly go on. I telephoned you again and again, pretending it was the wrong number just so I could hear you say hello. And then I came to your stage door and followed you. I wanted you so terribly. But I couldn't come back. I had to get on my feet first. And I haven't done so badly, have I? Two stories accepted and now I'll finish the book and... Oh, Anne, look at me. What's the use of all this? I'm going. Telephone Gil about the divorce. He'll tell you all about it. Anne. Are you going to marry Gil? Yes, Steve. All right, I see. All right. You... you can come up to the apartment and get your things any time. Thanks. I guess there's nothing there I want very much. No. Give me another one of those, will you? Hey, Steve. How are you? I've been around. Funny, I haven't seen you. I just came from the apartment. I went up to see Anne. Yes? She quit the show. She got another job, Bunny? I don't think so. What did she quit for, then? I said, why did she quit the show? Don't you know? How should I know? If you don't know, I don't know. How was she, Bunny? Okay. Gil Morel was up too for a while. Yeah? He came to say goodbye. Say, what is this? To Anne? Yeah, Morel's gone to Europe for a couple of years. What's that? I'm crazy. You mean he's really going? He isn't. He's an awful liar. Alone? I guess so, why? Let me out of here. Hey, where are you going? Hey, what's the matter with you? I'm crazy. Hey, Anne, I've got to see you. I've got to. Well, it seems real nice to me. Who are those people out in the kitchen? Please, Steve, they've come to rent the apartment. Rent the apartment? I thought you were going to stay here. Are you going to live in our house? Using our things, snooping in our kitchen, peeking up our chimney? I asked you. You said you didn't want the place or the furniture. Now I'm going to rent it furnished. I've got to have the money. I'll give you money. I don't want your money. Where will you go? I'm going out of town. Where? Mrs. Morel. Yes? When are you leaving? Will you tell me that? Just as soon as I rent the apartment. Mrs. Morel, my wife likes the place fine. I certainly do. The beds are so comfortable in the kitchen since we left California. It sure is nice. And Mrs. Mary, I wonder if you'd show me how that range works. Why, of course. It's really very easy. Well, I'm sure it is. See, that kitchen sure got her, hasn't it? But this chair is what sold me. This is what I call a real chair. Yes, sir. You sit here at night and snuggle up to that fireplace. Well, I don't think you'd want to snuggle up to that fireplace. You sit that close and you choke to death. That's one of those fireplaces where all the smoke comes into the room and all the heat goes up the chimney. Is that so? And let me tell you, in one of these old houses, you sure need the heat. Well, that's all right. I guess that can be fixed. It costs an awful lot of money. Not me. That used to be my business. Oh. Well, I hope you used to be in the plastering business, too. Why? Oh, it's not very important. But that ceiling up there, it has a tendency to fall down. Is that so? Yeah. Pretty near brain me one night. But you get used to it. Just remember to stay on this side of the room. Well, I... Yes, now I understand. I'm sure it won't give you any trouble. Oh, Mama. Yes? Mama, come inside a minute. I want to speak to you. Now, there's nothing to speak about. Oh, yes, there is. You'll excuse us, won't you? Oh, sure, sure. Well, how do you want? I'll tell that man. That man was crazy about this place. What did you tell him? I don't know. I'll see you. Oh, yeah. I told him about the ceiling falling down. The ceiling? When? Don't you remember that day we found the plaster all over the floor? One little place. Well, it might have been dangerous. You're trying to ruin my chances of renting. I don't want those people coming in here. I want to live here with you. Oh, and we can be so happy. Don't be silly. You're right, Mrs. Mary. I'll have the ceiling fix myself. But it really... If it's okay with Mama, it's okay with me. I guess I wouldn't care what the place was like just so long as that chair went with it. That chair doesn't go with it. Steve, you... I've changed my mind. That chair doesn't go with it, and that table, and that lamp, and that couch. Steve! And you're not going. Let go of me. We've changed our minds. We're not going to subland. But it was all set. I don't care. I need you and you need me too. What kind of a life is that? Being separated, me missing you so much and wanting you... Come along, Mama. Don't you see how happy we can be? It'll be like it was at first. I can take care of you. Oh, dear. I wish now I'd never seen the place. Mrs. Platt, Mrs. Platt! Don't listen to him. You can have this place. Oh, I'm afraid, dearie. You don't know what you want. But I was like that, too, with my first. Mama, are you coming? Come on. What did she say? Are you satisfied now that you've driven them away? Now that you've spoiled my chance of renting? Do you think by doing that that you'll force me to come back to you? What did she say? Do you answer me that? Because if you do, you're crazy. I can take care of myself. I've made money before and I'll make it again. I know. She said something about you first. Oh, she's crazy. Anne. Anne. Are we going to have a baby? Yes. How long have you known it? Once. Then you knew it when we were separated. Yes. Why didn't you tell me? I was going to. Going to? That's swell. You were going to tell me, but you didn't, did you? Two perfect strangers from California walk in and tell me I'm about to become a father. That's great. That's swell. Well, you see... Why didn't you tell me at lunch that day? I didn't want to. Why not? You just said the wrong thing. Without even telling me? My own baby? Not your baby. It's mine. Yours hasn't got a father? No. What? Well, he's a brute. The baby? Yes. No. I mean you are. Oh. Oh, I am... I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to talk anymore. Why don't you kiss me? Oh, Steve. Darling, I'm so crazy about you. You've got a funny way of showing it. You were going to let me walk out. You had me scared. I thought you meant it. Oh, you stupid. How could I? It was just a lesson, darling. I've learned it already. You did it so well. I was scared to death. You didn't show it. Darling, all I want in the world is to sit back and let you take care of me. Darling, that's just what I'm going to do. Up pops the devil has ended, but our stars pop up again a little later. Now a moment with Howard Greer, owner of one of the most exclusive dress shops in the film capital. If he'd not been a machine gun corporal during the World War, he wouldn't be here tonight talking about clothes. When the war ended, he took the first job he could get. It was with Paul Poiré, the famous French designer. And today, the ex-machine gunner ranks among the world's foremost stylists. Mr. Greer's clientele has included practically every Hollywood star since the days when Clara Bow was popularizing the third person neuter, and Norma Shearer was making cowboy films. Prior to opening his show, Mr. Greer worked for me, and I was never sure whether it was because or in spite of me that he left pictures for his own business. The truth of the matter, Mr. DeMille, is simply this. I'd much rather make clothes for off-screen wear because private clothes provide the advantage of an added dimension. Once in a while, I do get caught in a picture, however. At the moment I'm making the clothes Catherine Hepburn will wear in her next film. What do you think Howard is your most original contribution in designing costumes? Well, back in the days when sound first came in, dresses made out of taffetas and beaded materials made so much noise they interfered with the dialogue. So I took a chance, designed an evening dress out of wool, and no one was more surprised than I when, six months later, Paris came out with a complete line of wool and evening gowns. Today, however, sound has been so perfected that we can use all types of material without encountering any trouble at all. The current issue of Life Magazine showing the popularity of white fox furs is another proof of your ability to set styles. The present popularity of white fox is practically the result of a panic. A few years ago, when Silver Fox was dominating styles, a wholesale fur company found itself stuck with thousands of white fox skins. They offered me all I could use on dresses to divert some interest from silver to white and dyed fox. Previously, furs had been used only as collars, cuffs, and trimming. I used the skins intact as sleeves. Again, Paris followed. At the moment, both white and silver fox have been used. Incidentally, the first suit showing Silver Fox sleeves is one I happened to make for Tallulah Bankhead to wear in her play Reflected Glory. So maybe Miss Bankhead really started the present first sleeve bogues. For women who want to learn what's going to be worn and how they can apply those ideas to themselves, I know of no better school than the screen. And, like the screen, if you don't mind my saying it, the sponsors of this program are doing a fine service in helping women to be better dressed. For keeping all washable material, no matter how fine, looking like new, so much longer. My advice is to buy fewer, but better clothes. If they're washable, take care of them in luxe flakes. And you'll find in the long run you'll be spending much less money and will look more attractive. Your recent showing of fall and winter clothes Howard was one of Hollywood's important events. What are some of the style highlights it indicated? Well, in the first place it's going to be a more colorful season. Street dresses will be the shortest in 10 years with straight lines and square shoulders. Shoes are apt to be ankle height. You'll see a new type of glove allowing plenty of room for rings with the three smaller fingers all in one compartment, something like a mitt. At least I hope you'll see it because I invented it. Hats are madder than ever, and anything goes. Box coats will be exceedingly popular and colors for all clothes will be warmer and more vivid. Lions for evening are simple, but fabrics are extravagant and luxurious. And last, the zipper fastener will be used for everything, even the most delicate kind of evening dress. But now I think I've held things up just about long enough. Thanks for listening. Thank you. While most people go to the city to work and to the mountains for a vacation, Fred McMurray and Madge Evans have just done the opposite. Madge returned last week from a nice quiet rest in New York. And Fred has been in the San Bernardino mountains working on his new film. Which only proves again that the movies are a tricky business. You know, just before I came here tonight I had a set of true confession and thinking how mad we must appear to people who happen to drop in and hear the language of motion pictures. You mean our dialogue? No, I mean a conversation like this. Look out, Fred, we're going to kill that baby and put a silk around the broad. We'll drop that gobo over your head and don't look at the blimp. Just make sure you're behind the eight balls. The average person needs an interpreter on a movie set. Perhaps we should explain that in screen language when you kill a baby, you'll merely turn off a small spotlight. And the silk around the broad is a diffuser hung in front of a wide rectangular light. One of those who are interested is an oblong shield that keeps light out of a camera lens. The blimp being the padded camera covering the deaden sound and the eight ball simply a new type of microphone. I might add that we're not referring to food and rink. When we tell an electrician to take his keg of beer and spaghetti and put them in a corner. The keg of beer is just another variety of small light and the spaghetti, the wire cable. It's practically another language. But what about all this hard work Fred was doing up in the mountains? The story I heard was that he wanted a lake arrowhead. Yes, to go swimming. Oh, what a hardship. Well, let me explain, Madge. Arrowhead may belong to sunny California in summertime, but in October I think the Eskimos take possession of the lake. If it was that cold, why didn't they use a double? Well, they did take a double up there, but it seems that while the double was a beautiful swimmer and incidentally is a good friend of mine, the only stroke he knew was a dog paddle. Now, suppose you tell us about that trip to New York. Oh, nothing very exciting, Fred. Just a nice change and a chance to see some of those Broadway shows. I was rather amazed to find out how many of our Hollywood neighbors are now in place there, or soon will be, Mona Barry, Francis Farmer, Frederick March and Florence Eldridge, Ian Keith, Walter Houston and Nan Sunderland. But it's very good to be back home and to be with all of you here in the Lux Radio Theater once again. Many thanks. Good night, CB. Good night. Good night, Madge. Good night, Fred. I'll see you behind the 8-4. Madge Evans, ladies and gentlemen, this is your announcer, Melville Roick. Mr. DeMille returns in a moment with great news concerning next week's program. Mr. McMurray and Mr. DeMille appeared through courtesy of Paramount Studios. Charles Tannen, heard as Beine Hatfield and Louis Silvers are from 20th Century Fox, where the latter was in charge of music for Lancer Spy. Also in tonight's cast, where Frank Nelson is George Kent, Dink Trout is Laundryman, Marie Hammond as Mrs. Platt, Lou Merrill as Mr. Platt and Morrison as Secretary and Robert Whitney are now our producer. Next Monday night, one of the finest actors the screen has ever known comes to the Lux Radio Theater. Most of us, I'm sure, recall his brilliant performance for us last season in Men in White and more recently on the screen in Captain's Courageous. His name's Spencer Tracy. He stars for us in the celebrated story by Sinclair Lewis that became a national bestseller and a box office triumph as a motion picture. Arrow Smith. In it, Mr. Tracy plays the part of a modern microbe hunter struggling to be true to both his wife and science. And starring with Mr. Tracy will be Miss Faye Ray. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Plates join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theater presents Spencer Tracy and Faye Ray in Arrow Smith. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. Original by Albert Hackett and Francis Goodrich. Change your love at work and loveliness of you heard during tonight's performance. Welcome, you can't have everything. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.