 Family Theatre presents Jeanette MacDonald, Jean Raymond and Rod O'Connor. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theatre presents transcribe, God in a Red Scooter, starring Jean Raymond and Rod O'Connor. To introduce the drama, here is your hostess, Jeanette MacDonald. Thank you, Tony LaFranco. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray, pray together as a family. And now to our drama, God and a Red Scooter, starring Jean Raymond as Ed and Rod O'Connor as the narrator. Sleep is beautiful. Sleep is a soft hand smoothing the frowns and frets on the tired faces of men. Sleep is a mother hand rocking the cradle of the world, rocking it softly, rocking men and women and all the little children to sweet silence and peace. That's what sleep is. And do you want to know something? I pity the man who does not know how to sleep. Consider little Eddie. I love children like Eddie. Eddie knows how to sleep. Before he went to bed tonight, he was having a talk all by himself down there in the garden. This is the way he spoke this afternoon. And you know what I said, God? Know what I said to Daddy? I said, God, did hear me. That's what I said. And God, remember when I said, please give me a Red Scooter like Stevie and Tony Scott? Remember when I said that about the Scooter? Didn't you hear me, God? Didn't you? See what I mean? See why I love little children like Eddie? He wanted a Red Scooter. He went to sleep dreaming of a Red Scooter. And did he get the Scooter? Well, I shall have to tell you the whole story. In a manner of speaking, the story begins with grapes. In this hill, you get a pretty good idea how it looks, Jeannie. Oh, the vines are beautiful. A nice dark green. It almost makes you want to laugh and cry. Standing here like this and looking down on our land. A very old vineyard, Eddie. It makes you almost want to laugh and cry. Oh, it's nice to own something. Yeah. Cost me plenty too, but it's worth it. When will the grapes be grown, Ed? All three years. It takes at least three years. Oh, it seems so long to wait. I mean, you think they just pop out? Not grapes, Jeannie. You're going to build up grapes. A vineyard. And then after three years... Do you know what it's going to be like down there? What? They're going to be out there on the wire trellises, those grapes. They're going to be hanging thick and heavy by the stakes. And when the harvest comes in, we're going to be packing in over 200 tons of the best red emperors in California. Eddie, you'll be three years old when we start picking our grapes. You'll be walking. Yep. It takes time for kids and grapes to grow. These plans, these husband and wife plans spoken in sunny places are delightful. Invariably delightful. But I must repeat. I pity the man who does not know how to sleep. Just listen to him. Maybe I'm in a mistake. It's a risky business. It's a big gamble putting all your money in the grapes. The man is worrying, mind you, at one o'clock in the morning. It could be a shrinkage. It could be a bad market. I can't afford to bump a tough market. All this at one o'clock in the morning when he should be asleep with his wife and baby. Poor fellow. I pity the man who does not know how to sleep. You're not getting enough rest, Ed. Oh, now don't start fussing again, Jean. You know what? The doctor said all is worry and will only make you worried. Worrying happens to be part of a grape deal. Look, you see those grapes out there tonight? I put four years into them. Every cent we own is in those grapes. And right now, this minute, I figure we got over 230 tons on those vines. They're ready for the lug boxes in three weeks. Now, if anything goes wrong with those grapes, Jeanie, well, it's gonna put an awful big dent into things. Nothing's gonna go wrong with the grapes. A lot of things can go wrong with them. The trouble with you, Ed, is that you haven't got enough faith in God. Now, honey, don't go into that again. Maybe if you got done on your knees once in a while... Now, listen, Jeanie, will you do the praying and let me look after the grapes? Will you? Well, that's the way it is with some people. You'd think Edward might have a little more trust and faith and confidence in me. I like the man who sleeps. I love the man who relaxes and who, like a child, rests easily in the arms of my providence. Not so with Edward. Edward is too full of plans, as if the plans of men were merely the plans of men. Listen to him. Sure, I'm ready to start, Campbell. My grapes can't wait. Where are the pickers you promised me? They're coming up the valley as fast as we can, Ed. Don't blow your top, man. You've got enough pickers for me. All you need, already give me time. How soon do you figure to make it? I'll be cutting your vines by the 17th. I'll guarantee it. Okay, only make it fast. As fast as I can. Now, I like vineyards, vineyards in the fruit of the vine, thick clustered grapes, all bursting black and purple in the harvest time. These are among some of the lovelier aspects of my creation. I have very little grudges against vineyards having regard for the littlest grape. But once in a while by design, clouds will gather for reasons sufficient to the ultimate purpose of things. I gather a breeze at Burbank and scoop a cool breath off the high sierras. Northeasterly my gales go playing with the canyon dust in the sea sands at San Diego. And quite suddenly, quite perceptively, there's mist in the Midlands and in the valley of the San Gabriel, not around the mountains and down from the mountains, down around the flatlands of San Fernando. Nor is it any surprise that there is mist also on the eyes of a woman in Fresno. It won't rain, Ed. Don't keep staring like that out of the window. You heard what it said on the radio. But this is just mist, Ed. You know how it is with mists. They come and go. It'll be dry tomorrow. The grapes will be dry. Wait and see. Listen. It's only a little flurry of rain, Ed. Listen. God won't spoil everything by letting it rain now, Ed. I know he won't. Oh, God, don't let it rain! God won't let it rain. Oh, Eddie, don't let it hurt. Three days. Three days to harvest and look at it tonight. You work for years. You prune. You cultivate. You put every red scent you own into grapes. And what do you get? You wash out. And a man ain't supposed to cry. Yeah. A man ain't supposed to cry. Believe me, I hold no grudges against vineyards. I like vineyards. But more than all of vineyards in the world, I like man. I love man. I know man well, yet never do I cease to wander at him. He's capable of so much of kindness, of charity, and of sacrifice. And yet so often he's incapable of hope. All things you can ask of him at times save this. A little faith. A little confidence. It was so with Edward. It was so with you those nights. But Tony and Steve's got scooters, Mom. Yes, I know, Eddie. But you don't want a scooter. I want a red one. Maybe on your next birthday you'll get one. But Tony and Steve's got scooters? No. No baby stuff now. You're a big man now. You just pray to God and next year he'll send you a scooter. God send me a scooter tomorrow like Steve's got. A red one. I don't want to wait till next year, God. Hurry up and send me a scooter. Did he hear me, Mom? Hello, Ed. Daddy, did God hear me? What are you talking about, Eddie? I asked God to send me a scooter. Did he hear me on account of it's my birthday tomorrow? I wouldn't know, Eddie. I wouldn't know too much about that kind of scooter. What's a red one? Tired, Ed. Maybe God left it in the yard already. You've been giving him ideas about birthday presents. He's been asking for that scooter for over a year, Ed. You know that. Well, tell him to stop asking. Ed, you've changed so much lately. Sure. I know enough now not to go around asking God for scooters. Maybe I should ask him for a rebate on 26 acres of slip skins. Supper's ready. I saw Campbell today. We're ready to pick in a week my second harvest. It'll be a good one, Ed. Yeah, maybe, but I'm not counting grapes till I get them off of the vine. I'm only banking on red emperors, Jeannie. Not red scooters. What are you so jittery about, Ed? Heck, man, you're gonna do all right. Got a nice crop out there. I had a nice crop last year, too, Campbell. Oh, forget last year. From the looks of them vines, Ed. I'm guaranteeing you'll be cutting 300 lugs a day. Yeah, okay. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Campbell. Right. Oh, Ed. Yeah? Just between you and me. Yeah? Been noticing your wife lately. Jeannie? Yeah. That kid looks plenty tired, Ed. She's worrying a lot about a lot of things. Nothing wrong with Jeannie. You know how women are, Campbell. She's straighten out. I don't know, Ed. But if I was you... Listen, Campbell, I understand, Jeannie. All I need is one good harvest. And then maybe we do a little celebrating. That'll fix her up. Yeah, yeah, I suppose. Well, here's to a good harvest. Campbell, those are big lugs. That's well-crafted. I'm going back home to pick up Jeannie and the kids. I'm gonna set them up there in the hill and let them look at a real harvest. That's worth looking at, Ed, Campbell. Jeannie. Jeannie, I got a surprise for you and the kids. Hmm. She's lying down again. I knew I'd find you in here, little lazy bones. Hey, look, Jeannie, I want to take you up in the hill. You and the kids... What's the matter, Jeannie? I'm tired, Ed. Hey, you don't look so good. You don't look good at all. Maybe I better get Doc Handley for you. Oh, wait a minute, Ed. It's funny. Somehow I've always had a feeling I'd be lying here like this, talking like this, telling you sooner or later... What are you talking about? Ed, I'll be leaving you for a while. Jeannie, what are you talking about? Maybe you'd better start praying for me, Ed. No, no. Don't leave me alone, Ed. Don't ever leave me alone. Just keep praying for me. Maybe we'll still take that trip someday, you and me, Ed. Sure, sure, Jeannie. We'll go first class, all the way to Holland to see the tulips and the kids with the wooden shoes. Excuse me for barging in like this, doctors. What do you find? We're doing everything possible, sir. You'll have to be patient. Yeah, that's what everybody says. Be patient. Why don't you go home and rest and get a little sleep, eh? Sleep, not now. I can't sleep now. Better start praying for me, Ed. All right, Jeannie. All right, I'll do it for you. Are you... Are you listening, God? Look, I don't know the word you're supposed to use, but this is from the bottom of my heart. I'm praying for Jeannie, my wife. Now, I can't lose her, God. Not now. We've got kids, God. Three kids. We're trying to make a go of it with grapes. Now, you've got to hear me, God. You've got to make Jeannie well. Please, God, please. I'm asking you. From the bottom of my heart. What's your chances now, doctor? Sorry, I think you'd better be prepared for the worst. You mean there's no chance he's getting weaker? I'm sorry. I see. I understand. Okay, doc. What's the matter, Daddy? Nothing. Mom's sick, huh? Yeah. Why don't you ask God to send Mom home, huh? Want me to ask God for you, huh, Daddy? Maybe God's got cotton in his ears, isn't he? Cotton? Yeah. You can't hear so good with cotton in your ears. He can hear me. That's all. Yeah? Once he didn't hear you, Eddie. When? Remember when you asked him for that scooter? Yeah. A red scooter. Well, God didn't hear your prayers, huh, Eddie? Yes, he did. God did hear my prayers. Hmm? Come over here. Yeah, up on my knee. Yeah, that's it. What'd you say? I said God did hear my prayers. So? What'd he say to you? He said no. Sometimes God says no. Oh, Daddy. What's the matter, Daddy? What's the matter, huh? Hello. You know, is this the residence? Yeah, yeah, yeah, doc. What's the news? Well, we wanted to let you know that... Yeah? Hello? Hello, doc? Hello, operator. I've been cut off. Operator, get me to Mercy Hospital. Hello, up. Lines dead. Stay in the garden with the kids, then. I gotta go to mom. Dear God, I don't know how to pray to you. Sometimes God says no. Oh, Daddy. All right. All right, God, you got me where you want me. You're the boss. I'm admitting it. You're the boss. Only listen to me now, will you? I don't want you to die all alone. Without me. Yeah. Can you hear me, God? Look, I can take it. I can take anything. Don't let it be all alone. I'm asking you, God, honest to God, I'm asking you... Jeannie. Hello, Eddie. Jeannie, you're not... What's the trouble here? You're smiling at me, Jeannie. You're looking at me and talking to me. You're talking to me. I'm really feeling much better today. Come and put your arms around me. Oh, yeah. Stop looking like a baby. Jesus. Maybe God's saying yes. Jeannie. Maybe he's saying yes. The night tonight is beautiful over California. For the first time in a long time a tired man sleeps. Resting at last in the shadow of my hand he sleeps. I might have said no. I have said no to some of my loveliest children, my best beloveds. But know this always, Edward. There are times when my refusals are necessary to a plan you cannot understand. The little Eddie being wiser in his innocence seems to understand. That storm upon your vineyard, that storm that drew your curse was a blessing to a thousand other Edwards and pasture lands parched by the drought 600 miles to the north. So tragedy, the tragedy today is but the pruning in the preparation of a lovelier tomorrow. Yes, there are times I've said no. As many fathers have said no to their dearest, their best beloved children. But tonight, tonight, Edward, I've said yes. Oh, night, especially on the tired eyes of the man. And concerning Eddie, listen to him mixing his prayers tonight. Our Father, who art in heaven, the Lord's with thee, and blessed is the fruit, and give us this day our daily bread, and ever, and ever, oh, man, send me a scooter, like Stevie's God. I tell you, I've seen all the beauties of my creation, but there's nothing so beautiful as the small face of a child, the small lips of a child fumbling with prayer, getting it mixed up, getting it tangled and sweetly muddled with sleep. Listen to him. A red scooter. Oh, God. And all the while, the soft fingers of sleep are smoothing his eyelids, closing them easily. Red. Red scooter. Oh, God. All right, Eddie. It'll be a red scooter. I've willed it, Eddie. A red scooter. Now sleep, Eddie. Sleep. Jeanette MacDonald again. Every once in a while, you read how some scientist has mixed a lot of ordinary things, a sort of cocktail of waste products, and out of his magic test tube comes some application never heard of before. Jewels out of sawdust, perfume out of coal tar, medicine out of minerals. You never realize the true beauty and value of things until you experiment, until you try them. It's pretty much the same with prayer. Have you noticed lately how in the field of medicine the psychologist and the psychiatrist have been rediscovering the value of prayer? But prayer has been there all the time. It's ironic to think that people will accept prayer on the basis of an up-to-the-minute medical authority when for as long as they can remember, religious authorities have told them the same thing. Yes, prayer is one of the forces of life itself, but you've got to use it to get its benefits. Use prayer for your family life. For the family that prays together stays together. More things are bought by prayer than this world dreams of. Program was transcribed. This is News for Broadcasting System.