 The Irene Dunn Fred McMurray Show. Powering Irene Dunn as Susan, and Fred McMurray as George. Together in a gay new exciting comedy adventure, Bright Star. It's the Irene Dunn Fred McMurray Show with Irene Dunn as Susan Armstrong, editor of the Hillsdale Morning Star, and Fred McMurray as George Harvey, her ace reporter. Susan and George are in a chatty academic mood, while Sammy, the copy boy, urges them to stop chasing journalistic butterflies and chase what he considers the big news of the hour. It's all very well to get steeped at ears and theories, but we sell news. And rodeos are news, or should I say noose? It's rodeos, isn't it, Sammy? Like which is correct, mogul or mogul? Well, I always say mogul. It's mogul. Will the class in disorder please come to order? Uh, how do you pronounce, uh, this? Uh, grimace or grimace? Well, grimace. Uh-huh, it's grimace. Who fought the French and Indian War? Combatants. Who is Bobby Brundage? Who? I pass. Pass? You both flunk miserably. The two-bar-a rodeo takes advertising in your paper, but you don't know who is its absolutely star performer. Okay, wallow in your ignorance. I'm gonna buy tickets while they're still available. I'll give you one tip. Bobby Brundage is seeing the press at the General Grant Hotel. Take it from there. My hands are tied. Take it from there, George. Me? I don't know. Port from Starboard or Stam from Stern on a horse? Well, you don't have to, except on seahorses. These horses have heads and tails. Only instead of tossing them, they toss you. This much I know. Yes, but we better get some story on Bobby Brundage. But you know more about horses than I do. Oh, no, I've never been farther west than Denver. That's far enough. Most cowboys have never been farther west than Perth Amboy. Where is Perth Amboy? She asked against her better judgment. In New Jersey. Out where the west begins, ma'am. Yeah? Oh, Mr. Brundage, I'm Susan Armstrong of the Morning Star. I'd like very much to get a story from you for the star. Oh, sure, sure, ma'am. Come on in. Thank you. Newspaper reporter. Well... Well, I'm really the editor. You don't say. Yes, I help out a bit on the news-hawking down then. Well, I always like to meet the gentlemen of the press, especially when they're ladies. Well, you'll have to help me out on this story because the truth is I'm new to the horse latitude. Oh, now, there was a great horse. Where? That horse latitude. Greatest piece of horse flesh ever wound up in Rover's digestive tract at long last. May I quote you on that, Mr. Brundage? You may quote me not once, not twice, not three times, but twenty times, or as many quotes as you can get into my five-gallon hat by being four quotes to each and every gallon. Yes, ma'am. Yes, sir. Would you care to ask me about the world situation? No, no. Well, then I'm your man. Are you married, Mr. Brundage? Oh, call me Bobby. Are you married, Bobby? No, and you sure are a pretty fellow. What do you think of Ramrod, the movie Wonder Horse? I think a future generation of hungry dogs is in for a real treat. Oh, Miss Susan, may I call you Susan? No thanks. Oh, but you're my kind of woman, Sue. Let me go, you clown. Mmm, your hair smells sweeter and you mown hay. Nuzzling my permanent. Let go. Your skin is like the finest cordon. Let go, you... Listen, you just wait until I go to press with my story on the great Bobby Brundage. Hi, you pewter. Oh, I hate to do this to the girl, but operator, get me the Hillsdale Daily News, will you? Yeah, thanks, honey. Hillsdale News? Let me talk to Mr. Prentice, please. The editing? Hello, Mr. Prentice. Well, this is Winsor Appleton, your new reporter. Yeah. Yeah, I'm in Bobby Brundage's suite at the hotel right now. No. No, I haven't gotten an interview yet, but I've given one out. Yeah, to Susan Armstrong of the Morning Star. Yeah. Now, she didn't know I was reporter for your paper. She thought I was Bobby Brundage, and I just let her keep on thinking it. Oh, will the star look foolish when it hits the street with that storied? Yeah. Well, yeah, I'll wait for Bobby Brundage. She should be here any minute. When your road day, oh, star. Roadie, oh, star. Him, too. Hello, George. Oh, hi, Susan. How'd it go? Well, it went for me, and I went for home. What? It went, ooh! A wolf? In full cry. I thought cowboys only kissed their horses, and vice versa. This one has had the better things impressed on it. Susan, did he make a pass at you? He did. I'll see you later. Oh, no, come back, George. Time off for homicide. Oh, no, George, let it go. I won't let it go. I'll just write this story, and that'll murder him. I'll murder him? You just write the obituary. George, why don't you take a nice long walk and cool off, and I'll punch this story out for the next edition. I'll take a long walk, but Brundage is the guy that's going to get cooled off. Now, George, you'll feel better after lunch. Yeah, with a nice meal of raw wolf under my belt. Kissing cowboy, huh? You'll be the canvas kissing cowboy in about a minute. Come on, open that door before I kick it down. Open up. Do you hear me in there? Hello. Hello. I'm looking for Bobby Brundage. You look as finished. Come on in, please. Yeah, thanks. You're a tall, handsome one, ain't you? All I want is Bobby Brundage. B, Boston, O, Orange Beach. I'm Bobby Brundage. You're Bobby Brundage? What's your label, mister? Well, where's the guy who was here about three hours ago? Oh, that reporter critter? I just threw him out headlong and out of pure spite. Did you happen to see what he wrote in the paper about me? No, what? Yeah, you read it yourself in the Morning Star. The Morning Star? He wrote it? I'm incensed. I'm plump furious. First of all, not even knowing that Bobby Brundage is a gal, and then bad-mouthing poor little me something fierce. Sure doesn't resemble you in this story. Well, I'm going to sue that Morning Star till it really mourns. Oh, no, no, no, no, please don't do that. Motherfair. I was born and has been insulted directly. I've already telephoned other paper in town, the news, to tell them that I'm suing the star. Well, suppose the star prints an apology. I'll demand satisfaction and an apology. Well, look, Gal. Says which? Gal, take some good advice from an old cowhand. Don't be so hasty about suing the star as yet. Hey, you're from my country. Well, I don't let it come out among these here heathens. But when I meet a gal from God's choice property, why, Gal, it just does something to me. It all comes back. Well, man, I'm sure enough pleasure to meet you. Way out here. Bobby Brundage is the moniker. Six-gun George Harvey. Shake, partner. Howdy, partner. Oh, here, I thought you were just another one of them pesky newspaper men again. They're messed up crazy critters. Oh, I should have known better. Fine strapping figure of a man like you. Oh, shucks, ma'am. Hmm, don't know what our Sue is yet. Susan will be right. Pleased to hear that. Who? Sue. Just hat and stance. I know the girl. Susan Armstrong's the real moniker. Oh, had a great, great grame on Amos Sue. Married a fine figure of a man, fought with Hoods Brigade in the wall between the states. Well. How about you? Likewise. Oh, shake. Howdy. Imagine it takes a lot of girls time, Sue and folks. Oh, it ain't worth it, Bobby. It ain't worth it at all. Hmm, got to think about it, Sue. No, maybe girls got better things to do sometimes. Uh, like which girl? Well, you ain't your reporter. Well, gal. Then you're my kind of man. And, uh, you're my kind of gal. Uh, yeah. See you real soon, George. Pronto. Uh, gal. Hello, Mr. Green, you're Mr. Green? Look here, mouthpiece. I want you to get the papers ready and Sue thether brains out of that morning star. Yeah, I did calling Bobby, Broendage a man and panning my show before they even see it. Yeah. $100,000. I'll tell you when to serve the papers. I want to have a little fun with this character, George Harvey. The idea, trying to kid me out of suing a star. And I'll teach him a lesson, too, while I'm about it. Yeah. So what are you here for, my mom and Pop and Brooklyn, hey? But Sammy, if you'd only told us, Bobby Brundage was a girl. Genius, I'm strong. I thought you'd know that just by looking at her. There's something wrong with that argument, but I'm too upset to figure it out. Mark, come in. Oh, Bobby Brundage. Grandma, what a deep voice you have. No, you may not come in. I feel out of apology as to you for putting such a trick on you this morning. Your apology is rejected, and you may now leave. Go ahead, cop a sneak. But I'd like to do the right thing, Miss Armstrong. Are you sure this isn't another wonderful, wonderful Hillsdale news trick? My honor is Gate Appleton. Gate Appleton? Gate Appleton? Well, I've never heard of him. Sammy, leave me and Mr. Gate Appleton alone, please. OK. If he gets fresh, just holler out the door and I'll holler out the window. Well, now. My name is Windsor Appleton. I dropped the gate years ago. Well, you certainly lowered the boom on me this morning. Well, it was my first job on a newspaper. I thought I was pretty clever. I never figured you'd be sued. Well, I've got to do some toll-figuring now. But if you lose, I'll pay the damages. I can afford it. I'm paying my own bills, thank you. And now you can go back to the news. I've quit the news. Why, you were doing famously. I thought you might hire me. Oh, sure, most natural thing on earth. Feed the hand that bites you. I, I, oh, I don't know. I'm upset. My grandfather was a publisher, and when he died, father sold the paper. But printer's ink is in my blood. I'm sorry. My staff is complete now. Excuse me. Morning, stars. Who's an Armstrong speaking? Miss Armstrong, ma'am. This is George. Who? George Harvey. George? Yes, ma'am. George, what's the idea of the bow-legged delivery? I, I am at the present moment with a young lady, Miss Bobby Brundage, by name. Oh. And I'm arranged to be the manager of the rodeo in town. And I'm giving you the story first. Thanks. I'll set it up in fiery letters. Incidentally, Miss Armstrong, ma'am, Miss Brundage says she may hold off on suing you a wee bit. In exchange for your services, shall we say? George, you come right back here. I got to talk business with Bobby this evening. Oh, Bobby already. That's fast. No, ma'am. She's been there almost since birth. And I bet she's gotten cuter every day, too. To tell you the truth, ma'am, I just can't understand how some cowboys can be so affectionate through their coyuses. Coyuses? Horses to you. Horses to you, and goodbye, George Harvey. Now, uh, what about me? You're hired. Now, back to our two stars, Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray, and the second act of our story. George Harvey has gone to work for pretty Bobby Brundage's rancho two-bar-a-rodeo in order to persuade her not to sue the morning star. He says, George has stopped over at Bobby's luxurious hotel suite to discuss plans for opening night and to receive a totally unrehearsed shock. Get George's synthetic draw. Well, Bobby, girl, a couple of more days, and we're all set to go. We're sipping one thing, George. Like which? Got to point a grand marshal for the rodeo. Oh, sure. That's a fact, now. Who would you say, girl? Y'all. Me, y'all? I can't ride. I mean, I haven't got a horse. A horse. Got a right-handsome, piebald Indian pony for you? Oh, fine, fine. Not one of these meek, spiritless critters. Not one of these gentle ones, eh? Oh, murder plot. That's a plum promised name he's got there. Oh, you look wonderful on murder plot. Yeah, how long, though? Says which? How long am I going to be grand marshal? Oh, just to lead the parade, announce an event or two. Now, what kind of saddle you like? High candle or low candle? Well, whatever you'd like to see me in. All right. What kind of rose do you like? Cinnamon or poppy seed, I reckon. You funny little old cow, man. You know how I mean. Do you want buckin' rose for your saddle patch? Sounds very appetizing. Just one little thing about murder plot. Ancestor His was chased by Hood's cavalry in the war between the states. So what murder plot he gets scary any time something southern happens. Well, I hope nobody whistles Dixie. Dixie? Because it so happens that I'm heading for the last roundup. Your new reporter working out in the star, Miss Susan, this Windsor Appleton multimillionaire? Very well, patience. He may have been born rich, but he's a born reporter, too. Yeah. Born with a silver scoop in his mouth, you might say. He's prepared to support the Morningstar financially if Bobby Brundage sues and wins. Will she? I don't know. George claims he's trying to get her to call it off. I haven't seen hide-the-hair of Georgie Boy lately. I'll present you with his hide and his scalp at the earliest. Did you make a deal with some friendly Indians? If he's on the level about just managing the show for Bobby Brundage so he can get the suit called off, why don't I hear from him, see him more? Well, I reckon somebody is maybe watching him right, though. Oh, patience, not you, too. Oh, it's nothing. Just see too many Westerns, I guess. When George does call, he talks in that mail-ordered drawl, so I just know she's with him. Purely business. I'll bet. With George handling the Rodeo for this year, Bobby Brundage, it'll help keep her in the lower income bracket. That way she'll clean up. She's no dummy. He's making a mess of the whole Rodeo. Well, they are turning away half as many customers at the box offices they did last year. Well, the arena is bigger this year. It is not. Holds more people. It doesn't. OK, smaller people are crowding in then. Patience, if Mr. Harvey should call or telephone, I'm not in. Understand? That's definite and permanent. I am not in. Beginning tomorrow. Reducing diets and embargoes always begin tomorrow. Answer the door, patience. Just don't stand there chewing on epigrams. Answer the bell. These shoes were built for cargo and not for speed. Hiya, patience. Georgie boy. My, it's good to see you. After I find you under that 10-gallon hat, come on in. Bye. Is Susan home, patience? Well, she isn't. Beginning tomorrow. Why, what's tomorrow? Don't worry. Tomorrow never comes. George. Susan. Susan, how are you? Fine, George. And you? Excuse me, I'll step into the kitchen and chew on a few dehydrated epigrams. Well, sit down, George. Thanks. I've been sitting, but I'll relax anyhow. Driving a lot? A hay burner. A horse? In secret. A souped-up job named murder plot. But you can't ride a horse. This isn't properly speaking, a horse. It's Beelzebub in disguise. He's got three little human skulls tattooed on his cowling for riders he's liquidated. George, I'm afraid for you. Oh, I don't need any help being scared. I can do it myself. Well, well, three is a lucky number, isn't it? Yeah. Of course, the next lucky number is seven. You keep on thinking of how unlucky you have to be until you're lucky again. But why do you want to ride murder plot? I don't want to, but I am Grand Marshal of the rodeo. Well, has he thrown you yet? No, no, because I'm on to his past. One of his horsey ancestors got chased by Confederate cavalry, and to this day, his descendants get nervous when anything southern happens, like fried chicken. Oh, nonsense. And you just can't get murder plot out of bed in the morning of the anniversary of Bull Run. Oh, you fool. How have you been? Well, fine. You're looking fine. Oh, yes, I've been fine. Fine. How have you been? Oh, good, good. Good. How are you? I am. Yeah. Yeah, I've missed you, too. I didn't say that, did I? I said it. Well, I was going to say it. I have missed you. Honest? Very much. It gets pretty hectic around the office sometimes, and, well, that's when we miss you. You really haven't worried about Bobby. Of course not. I'm just humoring the poor little girl. Of course. Not a thing between us. No, just like the rumors about me and Windsor Appleton being seen together. Oh, yeah. It was nothing to it. I hear he's loaded. Paid no attention. No, I don't. What a relief not to have to try to talk like a cowboy. You know, I thought it was getting to be a rather becoming on you. Real nice girl, that Susan Armstrong. George. Your cuffs. Oh, have I been figuring costs on them again? Those cufflinks. Oh, well. It's all a gold, no doubt. Well, only through to the other side. Oh, very nice. Now, Susan. Barbara, they say. Barbara. Oh, splendid. They do not. Well, I can read. They do not say Barbara. Well, they don't say it, but they sure spell it. Oh, what exquisite taste. No, Susan. Do you have her name tattooed on your chest, too? It does not say Barbara. On your chest? The cufflinks. The cufflinks, it says Barbara A. Barbara A for Rancho. Barbara A is the brand mark. Oh, ingenious. Not bad. Talk about Windsor being loaded. There's a quick change for you. What about that simpering cowgirl of yours simply rolling in oil wells in that ranch all of hers? It ain't hardly much larger than plucky Lilo Del Jim, but I call it home. She never said that. Barbara A, solid gold, a quarter of a pound, honest weight. I suppose you fell into deep water with those anchors on your wrist. Now look here, Susan, I'm strong. Oh, don't take that tone with me. Well, after all, you engage this Windsor-Appleton treasure boat to work for you. Well, only because I needed a reporter and you abandoned me for Longhorn Lizard. I didn't abandon you. I'm trying to help you. Oh, trying to help me? You know that? All right. I'm trying to help you by making your absence in the office unfelt. I was a fool to come here tonight. It's the beginning tomorrow. Don't come here tonight anymore. Done. Sealed and delivered. Good night. Good night. The furniture. Good night. Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry, I'm just going to ring the bell. Good evening. Good evening. Oh, Susan. Susan. Oh, Windsor. I wasn't expecting you tonight. Oh, sister, wait till you hear what I know about Bobby Brundage, girl wrangler. I'm really surprised. George rise that horse rather well. He handles that pie ball like a major. There's nothing repulsive about that little Bobby Brundage article, either. She's real cute in that white buckskin outfit. Here we go. First event. Ladies and gentlemen, go over to Pup. Your renouncer is George Harvey. Welcome to the Rancho Tupare rodeo with his charming queen. Mr. Appleton, please stop making those disgusting noises. Later in the evening, Bobby will astound you with amazing feats of horsemanship and Western still. Now, the first event, the Bucking Horse Contest featuring. Boy, cowboy, we love you. We love you. He stopped. The horse is standing still. But why is George still going up and down? He's won. Come on. Let's go down. Congratulations. It was wonderful out there. We're proud of you, Georgie boy. You're a man after my own heart. Wait a minute. So am I, Bobby. Hello there, Mr. Harvey. Please accept my apology for stopping your horse the Bucking Horse. George, how about coming over for dinner tonight? Well, faint dinner standing up, that is. Our stars Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray will be back in a moment. Thank you, Susan. Of course, I will say I learned the hard way. You know, this bridal pass a little different from the last place I rode a horse. Too bad, Windsor and Bobby can't be here. You know, I don't think they care. They're honeymooning in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. Who would have dreamed it? A gate Appleton and a corn bed Bobby Brundage both hailing from Brooklyn. South Brooklyn? Well, come on, Miss Armstrong, man. I'll raise you to the South Corral. Right, cowboy. Spur up your horse. Uh, horse. Horse. Once a cow hand, ma'am, always a cow hand. I always say. Irene Dunn and Fred McMurray will be back next week in another exciting comedy adventure in the gay news series, Bright Star. This is Wendell Niles inviting you to join us then.