 From Hollywood, California, the Luxe Radio Theater presents Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant. In Theadora Goes Wild. Luxe presents Hollywood. Our play, the comedy romance of a girl who leads two lives, one as the frim and proper small town girl, the other as a writer of sensational novels, and what happens when the secret of her identity gradually gets out. Our cordial thanks, ladies and gentlemen, for your loyalty to Luxe Flakes and Luxe Toilet soap. This kind of loyalty to our product makes the Luxe Radio Theater possible. Our stars tonight are Irene Dunn, Kerry Grant, Kathleen Lockhart and Sarah Hayden. In our adaptation of Columbia Studios' grand screenplay, Theadora Goes Wild. We also bring you as special guest Miss Gwen Dew, Hollywood writer who recently went 50,000 miles around the world on $50. Lewis Silvers is in charge of music. And now, the producer of the Luxe Radio Theater, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. The triumphs of Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant are among Hollywood's happiest inconsistencies. Both were brought here because of an ability to sing. Both scored their first screen hits in roles definitely dramatic. Yet it was not singing or drama but pure comedy that raised them to their present peak of popularity. Miss Dunn's Hollywood fame, which dates from Simeron, caught comedies added luster with the release of the Columbia film Theadora Goes Wild. Since then, her talented, rollicking roles has set the country laughing in another Columbia picture. The awful truth and an RKO's joy of living. Miss Dunn off the screen is a devilty of golf and lemon pie. She likes symphonic orchestras, plays the piano very well and is among the nation's best-dressed women. A little over five feet four inches tall, she has brown hair, hazel eyes and a dimpled chin. Beginning his career as an acrobat, Kerry Grant has been an eccentric dancer, a clown and a stilt walker. He also plays the piano and plays his servants well because he says part of their job is to listen to him play. Having demonstrated his comedy skill in Tupper, The Awful Truth and Bringing Up Baby, Kerry is currently seen in the Columbia picture Holiday. He's heard tonight as Michael Dane, while Miss Dunn plays Theadora Lin. Featured in our cast are Kathleen Lockhart as Aunt Mary and Sarah Hayden as Rebecca Perry. It's curtain time now and the Lux Radio Theatre presents Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant in Theadora Goes Wild, a meeting room in the public library at Linfield, a little town in Connecticut. The time is early evening. The scandalized members of the Linfield Literary Society have met for the definite purpose of discussing a sensational new novel by Carolyn Adams. Visit Rebecca Perry, President, is standing on the rostrum, the open book before her. Twenty women and a lone man hanged breathlessly on her every word. It's beautiful tonight, Pamela Spencer said. The words mingled with the plated music that filled the room. Suddenly he took her in his arms. She fought desperately to break out of his grasp. Let me go. Let me go. She could feel his breath and then his lips on hers. Let me go. Let me go. Why, I can't find it. I can't read what it says. Oh, that's a lie. What do you know? The other side of your face is when you've had the brass serialized trash like this in your paper. I can't help it, Rebecca, but you should have seen your face while you were reading. Oh, boy, from the looks of you all, you'd never think that Hugo was selling like hotcakes since the Caroline Adams book started running in it. You yellow journalist. You're on trial here. This literary circle isn't going to let trash like this come into our homes and corrupt our family. Just a second, Rebecca. As long as I can remember, this community stuck its head in the sand and said there ain't no evil. Well, it's all right for you and your literary circle where you're practically dead on your feet. But your youngsters ought to know what it's all about. You can't keep civilization out of Linfield forever. You don't know what to say. Quiet, please. We'll decide this once and for all. Theodora, what's the Lin family got to say about this? Well, well, Aunt Mary and Aunt Elsie told me to say that they want this book stopped. And if it isn't, the Linfield bugle will find itself without subscribers. I'm awful sorry, Jed. There you are. The Lin's of Linfield have spoken. All in favor say aye. Aye. Is that plain enough, Jed Waterbury? Yes, that's plain enough. All right, I'll cut out printing the things. But I've already printed an extra hundred copies of today's episode. Come early and avoid the rush. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. That's that. Meetings adjourned, girls. Oh, dear Theodora. Oh, yes, Rebecca. Wait for me, dear Theodora. We can walk home together. Well, that'll be fine, Rebecca. I didn't want to ask you if you had any message, Bradley. I'm going into New York tomorrow to visit Uncle John. I do declare you're the most thoughtful girl I've ever known. I'll never be done thanking you for getting that daughter of mine to New York for a change of scenery. Oh, I was glad to do it, Rebecca. You know how fond I am of Adelaide. I swear to goodness, Theodora, you're a Lynn clear through. Just downright fine. I'll give you a batch of cookies to take to Adelaide. The soft ginger kind. There won't be all problems by the time they get to her. Is there anything else I can do, Rebecca? No, child. I was going to say you could stop in and deliver the literary circles message to that publisher, Stevenson, in New York. The one who's publishing the book. But no, Theodora Lynn, you're too much of a lady to even speak to a blackout like that. I'll send him a telegram. I'll say, in the name of decency, disgrace and crash, publish by... The disgrace to our youth and the flower of young American womanhood. San Rebecca Perry, President of the Literary Circle. Hmm. Oh, excuse me, Mr. Stevenson, but Carolyn Adams is here. Well, send her in. Come in, come in. Hello, Mr. Stevenson. Well, I'm glad to see you, Miss Lynn. Please, please, Adams. Oh, I'm so sorry, I will get confused. Come on, come on, sit down. Oh, incidentally, I got a telegram just now that might amuse me. I know. So I'm Rebecca Perry, and it doesn't amuse me. Mr. Stevenson. Why, why did you have to sell those serial rights to the Linfield bugle? Oh, have you got an aspirin, please? Oh, sure. Yes, Mr. Stevenson. An aspirin, please. Yes, sir. No, I didn't know about the bugle, Miss Lynn. I mean, Miss Adams. But why not? I think it's very funny. Well, I don't. I had to sit and listen to it read out loud, and I give you my word. I almost died of shame. Well, shall we make that too well- Well, no fooling now was horrible. I suddenly realized that I was a writer of wide reputation and most of it bad. I could see Linfield finding out the truth, and Aunt Mary and Aunt Elsie disgraced forever. The aspirin, Mr. Stevenson. Oh, no, no, no, for Miss Adams. Oh, here you are, Miss Adams. Thank you. You're quite welcome. Well, feel better? No, not my conscience. That feels worse. You know, you're a curious woman, Miss Adams. How did you come to write a book like that? Well, I'll never know. All I know is that I was raised in a small town by two maiden aunts. Have you ever been raised in a small town by two ma- No, no, all that's not. Have you taught Sunday school for the past 10 years? No. Have you played the organ in church since you were 15? No. Well, I have. And right now I ask myself, where did Carolyn Adams come from? How did all this start? But you must have known what you were doing to write a book that's sweeping the country. I thought it was just romantic. Well, what about the second book of yours? Where is it? Well, it just won't write, Mr. Stevenson. I've tried, honest I have. I stuff rags under my door at night so nobody will hear me. But my aunts keep prowling. Have you ever had prowling aunts, Mr. Stevenson? No, but it does sound fatal. Well, it is. I'll have to go now, Uncle John's waiting. You see, he doesn't know I've got a publisher and a book. Nobody knows. You can't, Uncle John, wait. This one's Ms. Adams. No, no, he can't. Why? Well, I promised my wife the next time you came in, she could meet you. You knew what? Well, I had to. She's that kind of a wife. But you promised me you said that nobody would come in. But Ethel's a rabid fan of yours. Ethel's been making my life miserable. Ethel's my wife. Hello? Ethel. The door is open, darling, so I just... Well, I'll never believe it. It can't be. Don't tell me you're Carolyn Adams. I've been dying to meet you. Oh, dear. Ms. Adams, my wife, Mrs. Stevenson. How do you do? Oh, it's too marvelous knowing you, Ms. Adams. Oh, hello, Stevenson. The door was open, so I just wanted to... Well, who's this? Why's the door always open? Oh, don't mind me. Get out of here, Michael Dane, and close that door. Well, you can't open the door. And first it's one person, and then it's two. Well, well, Michael, are you going? No, you can close your own doors, Arthur Stevenson. Well, one thing I'll say for Michael, he only goes where he's not invited. Oh, Ms. Adams, I am sorry. I didn't know Michael would follow me over here. Carolyn Adams, eh? Well, you ought to know me. I'm the man who painted the cover for your book and the glorious woman over Arthur's desk bed. Well, she may be glorious, but she's also underdressed. Uh-oh. Well, that's evening clothes. That's the way you described her in your book. Wait a minute. This isn't some kind of a joke, is it? You're sure you're Carolyn Adams? I wish you'd get out of here, Michael. What do you mean, is she sure? She's Carolyn Adams? Well, Arthur, I don't know. I don't know, but Carolyn Adams ought to look like a woman who's lived. You know, a Samuritz tan, a Monte Carlo glitter in her eyes, a sort of a certain London wearingness around the eyebrows. It doesn't... By Ms. Adams, there is a certain bloom of innocence in your face that surprised me, too. Well, what did you expect to see, the tattooed woman? I must go now. Uncle John's waiting. Uh, just a minute, Ms. Adams. It's my curiosity. It takes hold of me and shakes me like a terrier-shaker rat. But, uh, but is that a manuscript you're carrying, Ms. Adams? No. It's a box of ginger cookies, the soft kind, no crumbs. Fine. You know, Ms. Adams, I've had a craving for ginger cookies all week. May I have some? Oh, yes. Do have some. Take some all. Oh, thanks. I will. Mr. Stevenson, Mr. Stevenson, you must forgive me now, because I really got to see Uncle John. Oh, well, I just hoped you'd at least have dinner with us, Ms. Adams. I'm sorry, but I can't. You see, I must make an early train back home. Where's that? Ethel, my dear, Ms. Adams lives out west. Yes, way out west on the rain. Where the deer ran the antelope planned... Michael, shut up. Oh, but look, Arthur, darling, the train's leaving for way out west all night long. Oh, Ms. Adams, I won't take no for an answer. We'll meet you here at six. Well, it looks like that's that, Ms. Adams. We'll put you on the earliest possible train after dinner. I didn't bring another dress, and I... Oh, well, all right, all right, but I've got to run now. Well, I'll be here, too. See you later. Oh, he won't be here, Ms. Adams. Not if we can help it. Well, if I could only be sure of that. Goodbye. Goodbye, dear, six o'clock. The usual check for $300. That's all we'll need. You can put the rest away. Such virtue. Oh, by the way, Theodora, when are you going to let me show you the town? Oh, sometime, maybe. I see. You still think I'm a gay old dog, don't you? Confidentially, Uncle John. Are you really wicked? Confidentially, honey, I'm just a little short of terrific. Oh. You know, somehow I don't quite believe you, Uncle. Oh, yes you do. I can tell by the pained expression on your face. Just like your Aunt Mary. Now, listen, baby, I think that we... Has anybody ever called you, baby? No. That's pity. Nobody in Linfield ever will. By the way, Theodora, does Rebecca Perry suspect anything about Adelaide? Oh, no, no, no. She thinks she's working for Mrs. Jamison. Well, where is Adelaide? I thought I'd see her. No, she had an appointment at the doctor's about the baby's formula or something. Oh, what a story for Linfield. Adelaide secretly married to Roger. Adelaide and Roger have a baby, and you hide Adelaide and the baby away with your sinful old uncle in New York because Roger won't get a dime of his money until he gets a diploma or something. You know, Theodora, you know this low trick you're playing on Linfield, and Rebecca Perry tells me there's hope for you. Now, there's nothing low about it. Oh, I've got to leave, Uncle. Oh, what for? Well, I am... I've got to make the six o'clock train for home. Oh. Train, eh? Well, there's a sparkle in your eyes I've never seen before. You know, Theodora, I think I'll be proud of you yet. Not if I can help with you, old Roy. Ha-ha-ha! I've settled a nice intimate table off in the corner bed. Nobody can see you, Miss Adam. Oh, Miss Adam, she was so... so incognito, it's far! Ha-ha-ha! Shall I order you a cocktail, Apple Deer? Thank you, darling. I have martini. What about you, Miss Adam? Oh, no, none for me, thank you. Oh, wait, uh, two martinis, please. You don't drink, Miss Adam, and you're so imaginative. You must admit you do make people curious. Now, Michael says... No, why the devil did you have to mention his name? You know all you have to do is to say Michael, then there's a cloud of smoke and up he pops. Look, over there, near the door. So it is Michael! Well, well, hello everybody. Mind if I sit down? Mind. What do you think you're doing now? Sitting down. I trank you people here because I just had to know. Had to know what? Miss Adam, you keep out of it. Miss Adams is this. I've got to know. I'm worn out from arguing with myself. Did you really write that book? Yes, I really wrote that book, as you call it. I wish... I wish you just wouldn't have dinner with us. All right, I won't have dinner with you. You three do all the eating. I'll sit here and starve. Starve? After all those cookies? Oh, martinis, sir. Oh, that's fine, waiter. One here and one here. Yeah, and one here. Waiter, dear. Waiter? Yes, ma'am? You might as well bring two. Oh, my God, she lives! She breathes! She speaks! Central station. Didn't you say you had to catch a train? Of course, the evening is still young, even if Arthur and Ethel did go home. I don't see why we're... Where are we going? I just told you, Grand Central Station. But if you're taking me to Grand Central Station, why did you tell the driver to drive through Central Park? Oh, you're much too practical for a creative artist, Miss Adams. Now, just because Grand Central is downtown and the park is uptown is no reason why you can't get downtown by way of uptown. Einstein. I never heard of such a thing. Ah, the Pamela the Heroin in your book would have loved this. New York by night. Love in a taxi and Spencer attentive at her side. Whispering sweet bewildering nothing. Well, you're not Spencer. You're a raving man. No, I'm not. I'm an artist. You're another. We understand each other. We create. Well, yes, that's so. Yes, well, now look, Miss Adams. Carolyn, if you don't mind, I made you miss your train deliberately. I wanted to get you away from the Stevenson. What is Arthur Stevenson after all, a businessman and maker of money? Well, I don't understand. What are you driving? When are you see, Carolyn? I'm completing a painting up in my apartment and I want your opinion of it desperately. No, I'm awfully sorry. No, nothing obvious like that. I want your opinion of this painting as one creative artist or another. You do understand, don't you? Well, if you put it that way, yes, I can see, but I remember when I was writing my closing intonate. Yes, I thought you'd appreciate it. Coming from an expert, that's something. Me? Yeah, yeah, I was referring to the place you wrote about where Pamela was your... Poor, poor Pamela. Oh, that's it. That canvas over there, isn't it? Yes, it is. I'll just remove the cover so that you can see it. Yeah, what do you think of it? Another undressed woman. Oh, well, she's charming. Charming? Yeah, yeah. Carolyn. Carolyn, did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening? No. Oh, but, Carolyn, you do, you do. Oh, you take that look out of your eyes, Mr. Dane. Well, then, now here, you're adorable. Don't you dare, don't you dare. You let me go. You let me go. Oh, how dare you kiss me. Now, Carolyn, come here. You stay right where you are. But, darling, you don't seem to understand. You, you, you... No, not you. Now, as you see, you dropped your painting, but I told you. Now, now, Carolyn, don't go. Where you going, Karen? Now, it's one after two. I'm a call a policeman. If you dare, you come on. I'm a call a police. You, you. A moment, our stars, Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant, return in act two of Theodora Goes Wild. Now, in our brief intermission, we listen to two pretty girls home from a dance as they talk the party over before going to bed. Oh, well, there go the boys. Gosh, I'm tired. Oh, it was a swell dance, wasn't it? I'll say. And you were the big moment, Betty. Oh, Jean, did you see how Jack kept cutting in? Oh, I knew he would. You're terribly popular these days. And no wonder. Yeah, darling, to say that, Jean, especially when you know and I know that just a month ago I was little miss not wanted. Don't talk that way, Betty. No, it's true, though. Oh, and I think of the chances I took with Daintyness. But now, but now, speaking of Daintyness, let's luxe our undies and our stockings, too. Let's do it this very minute. A minute or so a day with luxe does protect Daintyness because luxe flakes remove every trace of perspiration order. They leave silk things sweet and fresh and, in addition, keep the colors new-looking longer. We all know how important it is, especially in warm weather, to guide against an offense that spoils popularity, kills romance. For Daintyness, luxe underthings after each wearing. Anything safe in water is safe in luxe flakes. Our producer, Mr. DeMille. We continue with Theodora Goldwild, starring Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant. It's Sunday afternoons, several days after Theodora's trip to New York. The townspeople of Linfield are strolling sedately past the Lin residence. On the front porch, Theodora, Aunt Elsie, Aunt Mary, and Rebecca Perry, on their respective rockers, are watching the placid scene before them. There's an atmosphere of unruffled calm. It is almost too calm. Up time, we were discussing this year's charity bizarre, Rebecca. Yes, Mary. That's what I was going to say. If it's going to be a success, I guess it's kind of up to the Lin's again. Yes, you and Elsie and Theodora do set things to humming. Mm-hmm. That reminds me, Theodora. Yes, Rebecca. I hope Adelaide isn't keeping late hours or crepes thing around the city all by herself. Dear me, no. She's home most of the time at her work, reading to Mrs. Jane Wilson. She never goes out except... Except what, Theodora? You were saying that. What? What was I saying? She never goes out, except... No, she never goes out, except... Except when she goes out. That don't make sense, Theodora. Oh, Mary. What, Elsie? What's that man doing, walking up and down in front of the house with the dog? A whistling? What man? Oh! Oh, that seedy-looking tramp. Do you know him, Theodora? No, I don't know him. Nice day of the week to be doing a jig up the street. Look, he's swinging on the front gate. Get away from that gate, young man. Get away! No, wait, wait. I'll go and talk to him. Don't get too close to him, Theodora. Jane, you get away from him. Well, how do you do? You get away from here and leave this town just as fast as you can go. Is that any way to treat a friend an old fellow creative artist? Oh, this is my dog, Jake. Say hello, Jake. Oh, listen to me. My aunts and the worst guys within town are watching from that porch. And if they suspected what you know about me, they'd have fits. What do you don't say? Now, you'll be a nice man and tip your head politely and get away from here. Oh, you've got me wrong, lady. I didn't come here to call. I'm looking for work, lady. Work? You don't have to tell me what kind of work you're up to. Fine old homestead you got here, lady. Of course, you're long-look seedy. Those vines need training. You know what you need? A gardener. Don't be absurd. We never had one. Oh, lady, you've got one. What's he want, Theodore? Now, you get away from here, Michael Dane. What does he want, Theodore? Oh, it's nothing, now, Mary. I want work, ma'am, work. You get me this job, Theodore? You know your name is Carolyn Adams. You wouldn't dare do a thing like that. Oh, yes, I would. Why, you're the... Well? Well... All right. All right, blackmailer. That's no more. I never made so much noise before. That's because we never had a gardener before. Oh, look at him out there. The way he's taken over this house, him and his dog eating this out of house and home. Well, we do need a gardener. And Mr. Dewberry's worked as a gardener for years. Mr. Dewberry, huh? What outlandish kind of name is that? That's what he said his name was. Oh, he's got the dog hitched to the lawnmower. Have him in for you. Go stand in the other side. I'll be watching you. Shut that window, Elsie. I'm going clean out of my head. See here, Mary. I'll settle with him. I'll go. Now, I'll speak to him. Michael Dayne. Well, howdy, neighbor. Morning's fine. Get along, little doggy. What do you think you're doing? You can't stay just re-register this in our front yard. Oh, no, wait a minute. I can't disappoint people who've walked blocks to look me over, can I? Oh, look here. You unhitched that barking horse and stopped this nonsense. Well, all right. There you are, Jake, my good dog. I hope you've learned your lesson. It's a disgrace to have a little fun in Linfield, and don't you forget it. I want to talk to you, Mr. Dewberry. How did you track me to Linfield? Homing instinct, like a pigeon. Tell me. Well, if you must know, you left a few papers on the floor in your wild flight from my apartment. You remember when you got your purse? Oh, I see. Well, now that you've had your little life, why don't you go away? What are you doing up that rules bush for? Stop it. Nobody told you to dig. Well, now it's like this, lady. You keep a bush in one place too long. It uses up all the nourishment in that one little spot of ground. And what happens? It stops growing, settles down to a dull existence. I always say people are the same way. That's why I came to Linfield. I thought you needed transplanting, Theodora, and I found out you do, so I'm going to transplant you. You're going to transplant me? Yes, I am. What sort of berries are ripe this time of year? Blueberries, why? Well, I'm going to transplant you to the woods tomorrow. We're going to pick blueberries. Oh, no, we're not. I can't go skipping off into the woods with you just like that. Must I threaten you again? Theodora, do you want your name to be Caroline Adams? Now, be quiet. Mr. Dewberry, who gave you permission to dig up that rose? Well, Miss Theodora did, Miss Mary. Did you, Theodora? Because if nobody gave him permission, he can clear out of here this minute. Well, yes, I did. I gave him permission out, Mary. Very well, Theodora. Your Aunt Elsie and I want to talk to you. Come in the house this minute. Yes, Aunt Mary. Oh, Miss Theodora. What? Oh, berries are ripe. Blueberries are ripe. The berries are ripe tomorrow. You've got to get up. You've got to get up. You've got to get up tomorrow. I've got to light down. I can't no more. I thought you said you were a berry picker. Oh, no, no, cracks you. I'm not used to bending over, that's all. Well, you're a wreck, Mr. Dewberry. You know what your trouble is? Oh, what? You need nourishing, new soil, transplanting. You're a nasty character. How about some berries? Well, here's a pale, dig in. Oh, drop them in the mouth. Who's chewing for you? Well, drop them way back so they just slide down. Oh, Jim, oh, please. Well, you ought to be ashamed to laugh like that out loud and everything. What would Linfield say? Look, has anybody ever been known to laugh in Linfield? Well, there's a case of two on record. Well, somebody must have been tickling them. You know, you're a strange, sad case, girly. Did you know that? No, tell me, doctor. Well, to start with, you're really a nice girl, full of normal desires, but I'll tell you what's happening to them. What? They're being strangled to death. Oh, dear, that's murder. Oh, it's suicide. What Linfield doesn't let you feel, you write about. Love, laughter, what you want to experience and can't. Yes, yes, go on, doctor. Well, there's a happy world out yonder, girly. Break loose, be yourself. Tell Linfield to go take a jump in the lake. Imagine I'm married. They jump in the lake. Well, you won't be a free, happy soul until you do tell them. I know what I'm talking about. It's tough to fight your family. In fact, ground would be yourself, but I did. Yeah, sure. They had me all set to follow in Papa's footsteps. Be a banker and a statesman. I wanted a paint. I'd paint it. Oh, I knew you would. You're so brave, aren't you? Uh-huh. Want a berry? Oh, stop, start dropping, lady. All right. I'll make a trade with you. If you give me that cigarette you just lit, I'll let you have some more berries. It's a deal. Thanks. And now a question. What may I ask? Is little Theodora going to do with the cigarette now that she has it? Well, Michael will eat his berries while Theodora puts contentedly on her cigarette, monarch of all she surveyed. Oh, I'll bet you never smoked in your life. Like I never got up early, huh? Like I never picked a berry. You presume things, Mr. Dewberry. I'll go ahead, Smoke. Burst into flames. See if I can. Don't worry about me. I won't burst it. Oh. Oh. Yeah, yeah, here's a handkerchief, stupid. Oh, I'm all right. Well, I'll wipe your eyes for you, you nanny. Oh, I'm all right, Michael. I'm all right. Are you all right, dear? I'm fine. All right. You're lovely. Lovely. Michael. Darling. You really meant it this time, didn't you, Michael? Uh-huh. The sun's up. It's a new day. It... Oh, Michael, it's Sunday. Yeah, I guess it is Sunday. Oh, but don't you know what that means? It's Sunday. The only way we can get back to the house is our main street. What about it? Well, church will be on. They'll see us, and they'll see us with our very pales. Well, they won't see us with machine guns. What are you worrying about? Well, I can't help it. I'm worried about Rebecca Perry and the Linfield Literary Circle. Everybody. The meeting is now in order. Since this is a special meeting, ladies, we'll dispense with the usual order of business. Mrs. Chairman. Mary Lynn. Since this is a special meeting, and since it's been called in my house, I'd like to know why. You know as well as I do, Mary Lynn. It's Theodora. She's been seen gabbing around all over the place with that suspicious-looking gardener of yours. Rebecca, and all of you, Theodora might make a few little mistakes out of a generous impulse, but she couldn't do anything downright wrong. Matter of fact, the gardener's leaving in the morning. When did you discharge him? I... well, that is, I'm going to discharge him. Right now. He's right back at the house in the gardener's cottage, and you can all come and watch me discharge him. Ladies, will somebody make a motion on that? See here, Rebecca Perry. I make the motion, I second it, and I carry it. You come and arrange her, aren't you? All right, Mary. Come along, girl. Sure, I know. Sit down. I only came to tell you there's something up. They're holding a meeting in the house right now, and it's about you, about us. Us? Oh, what a grand topic for a meeting. Let's hold one ourselves. Come on. Michael, you're such a fool. Yes, ma'am. Come here, darling. Oh, one. Ah, you're a swell. Do you know it? You're a grand. Mr. Dewberry, we've come to settle. Theodora! You! You hear Theodora after I just did. Oh, Theodora. Now what do you think, Mary Lynn? I think we'd better go back to the house and go on with the meeting. Meeting nothing? Come out here, Theodora Lynn. As secretary of the Lynn Field Literary Society, what have you got to say for yourself? Come in. Come in? Yes, come in. Don't stand there gaping. Listen to me. I want you to listen to Michael. I came out here to Michael's cottage to see him, to tell him that I don't want him to go, but he's got to go because you want him to. Theodora. It doesn't matter what I want. You're telling me what's good for me, what's proper, what isn't proper. You've been telling me that since I was three years old, and I'm sick of it. You're glad and scolded and frightened me all I'll stand for, and now I'll tell you something. I'll tell you something you'll never forget. There's no law that can put that garden off these premises. He's going to stay. It's a free country. I'm over 21. What I used to do is none of Lynn Field's business. I invite the whole town to take a jump of the lake. Oh, dear. And just one more thing before you go. Anne Elsie, Anne Mary, Rebecca, all of you. I love him. I love him. And I always will. And there's no one in this town that can stop me. Come on, girl. Well, Michael. Well, Theodora. I told him off, didn't I? Oh, yeah, you sure did tell him off. And it... it was the truth. Well... I was thrilled to hear myself say it, and proud too. Right then I knew I never could have sent you away. Yeah, well, uh... Well, when you finally let go, you certainly rocked the world, didn't you? I guess... I guess you and I have a lot to talk about, Michael. Yeah, I guess we have. Well, we better not start tonight, though. Are you proud of me, Michael? I'll tell the world, baby. Baby? And Uncle John said nobody in Lynn Field would ever call me baby. Good night, darling. Good night, darling. All right, may I come in? If you don't answer by the time I count three, I'm coming in anyway. One, two, three. Here I come. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come on. Michael, where are you? Oh, Jake, you're good for nothing. What are you doing up on that chair? You know you're not supposed to. Where's your master, Jake? Where's Michael? Jake, come here, little boy. Come here. What's that bath in your collar? A note. What are you crying about? You don't even know what's in it. Listen to this. Didn't you have something to cry about? You're free, baby. Step out and be yourself. There are big things ahead and you'll travel faster alone. I'm on my way again to find more gardens to set in order. Good luck and kiss Carol and Adam for me. Michael. It's a plumbly of broadcasting systems. In this intermission before our stars return in act three of Theodore Goes Wild, we bring you Miss Gwen Dew, former fashion editor, beauty editor and news columnist for such well-known magazines as Movie Classic, Motion Picture, and Screen Book. One day, she decided to see the world outside of Hollywood. So she sailed for parts unknown with a typewriter, a five-dollar camera, and $50 in cash. Now she's back to tell the audience of the Lux Radio Theater how that $50 carried her round about the world for 50,000 miles. You certainly made $50 go a long way, Miss Dew. Well, let me tell you how far it really did go, Mr. DeMille. I heard the beat of the rhythmic surf at Waqiki Beach. I saw the blue and gold roughs of Peking, China. 20,000 miles of ice terraces on a Filipino mountainside and in Zambo Angle. Well, the monkeys have no tails. So I found that monkeys do have tails, Mr. DeMille. My mistake. I saw 300 golden-browns men danced at midnight far out in a Balinese jungle. I was entertained by the Sultana Suo and the son of the Sultan of Johor. I met Charlie Chaplin in Tokyo. Throughout the year, I rested a while in a beautiful spot where Greta Gabo had recently been staying. I talked to everyone, from Cooley to King. Well, before half our audience gets the idea that they too can see the world for $50 and without having to join the Navy, perhaps you better tell us what the catch is. Well, when I left, I had hopes of writing up my experiences and perhaps a few interviews. I had absolutely no assurance that anyone was going to buy in it. Luckily for me, most of the quarter of a million words I wrote and a thousand pictures I took with a five-dollar Kodak were sold to newspapers. And when the growing was very tough, I often wrote publicity for hotels in exchange for room and meal. Which of the sites you saw and the people you met proved the most interesting? Oh, and undoubtedly the trip I made for three days up the Anxi River in China. At the end of this journey, I secured the first interview Madame Chiang Kai-shek had given in three years. For me, the most exciting phase of your trip is still that $50 capital. After all, the fragrant air of the South Seas makes very nice breathing, but you can't eat it. Well, Mr. DeMille, I met on more than one occasion. I went without a meal. But after all, if a person has determination, of course a little ability of some kind, if he keeps his chin up, doesn't let his appearance grow careless, it's amazing how far he can go. And part of keeping your chin up, you know, is always being perfectly groomed. I don't mean extensively dressed, but always in band-bark condition. An incident, I say, Mr. DeMille, you'll be interested to know that this program, in a way, shared that trip with me. I'll be even more interested if you'll explain how. Well, you see, I had to travel very light. For you can well imagine, I didn't have 20 trunks with me. I had blow silk lingerie, service wait holes for daytime wear and chiffon for evening, number washable blouses, fabric gloves, and so forth. Now those things don't take up much room, but what's even more important, I could care for them myself. And your own luxe flakes, Mr. DeMille, are what I use to keep them looking always bright and crispy. First I thought I'd have to carry a supply of luxe flakes from home, but I soon learned I could buy luxe almost anywhere in the world, and that helped immensely. And make no mistake, looking at all times, immaculately well groomed, talking to porters or peasant women, or interviewing presidents or dictators, was a very important part of my formula. Wherever you may wander, Mr. DeMille, you'll always find luxe. For it's a fact that luxe also circles the globe. Yes. Now that I am home again, I'm glad to know all that has happened. For I know now what people mean when they're talking about Bubblingwell Road, or the Rue de La Paix. I'd like to have been on a flying bridge on a dreamy tropical night somewhere between Singapore and Egypt, with the stars just out of reach. And to those of you who are listening tonight and who read my stories while I was gone, I offer a thousand thanks for it was you who gave the world to me. Thank you, Ms. DeMille, for bringing it back to us. Irene Dunn, Kerry Grant, the star cast in Act 3 of Theodora Goes Wild. Michael's apartment in New York a few days later. It's morning. Michael, who from his towseled and foggy appearance has apparently had a sleepless night, is sitting at the breakfast table, standing solicitously at his elbow, tray in hand, is Tony, Michael's Filipino servant. Michael is looking at Tony questioningly as if he isn't sure, doesn't quite believe what Tony's been telling him, or would rather not believe it. Huh? What did you say, Tony? You're far on telephone. They say he'd be here at 10 o'clock. 10 o'clock? What time is it now? 10 o'clock. Oh, stop saying 10 o'clock. Why didn't you wake me before? I wake you, but you know wake. Oh, there he is now. He doesn't even announce himself. Let him in, Tony. Let him in. Jake! Jake, how'd you get here? Tony, how'd Jake get here? I came to return your dog, Michael. You forgot him. Yeah, it was. Oh, Tony, Tony, do something. Take Jake. Take him in the kitchen. Give him a bone. Have you got a bone? No bone, but got nice lemon pie. Oh. Well, uh... Thanks, Theodore. I guess you want to know why I left a note and ran away. Oh, yes, the note. Oh, I know all about that. You wrote it because I threw myself at your head and you were frightened. No, dear, no. It's because I felt the same way about you. Oh, Theodore, don't look at me like that in your primed little Linfield bonnet. Please believe me. I love you, dear, but... But what, Michael? Well, in view of my circumstances, I had no right to go playing at hearts with a swell person like you. What circumstances, Michael? If you don't go now, you'll find out soon enough. Now, please go now, Theodore. I'll meet you at the rich for lunch. Oh, Tony, take it! He's downstairs now. Now, please go. He's a little difficult about something. Well, of course he's a little difficult. Now, go on, Theodore, please. I don't know whether it is. Now, you're stalling, dear. Look, will you go in another room or go and sit down someplace? I'll go and sit down someplace right over here. Oh, where is he? Oh, hello, Father. Oh, hello, son. Aren't you going to say hello to me, too, Michael? Oh, Agnes. Hello. I wasn't expecting you. Fine, son, running out of town like that. Where were you? Oh, who's this? Uh, Lynn. Yeah, Lynn from the Stevenson office. Miss Lynn, my father. How do you do, Miss Lynn? How do you do? I'm very glad to know you, Miss Lynn. I'm Mrs. Dane. What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, well, excuse me, my wife, Miss Lynn. Oh, how do you do? Well, Michael, did you drift back to town accidentally? Or did you remember that I'm giving a reception for the governor on the 20th? Of course, I remember. So you'll be there with Agnes? With Agnes? With Agnes. Look, Father, this pretence of a happy marriage simply can't go on. It's been washed up for five years. It was your idea in the first place. Agnes is just as sick of it as I am. I think I'm a little sicker. I thought we agreed there would be no divorce as long as I held public office. You owe that much to the name of Dane, especially after your choice of a profession. Well, you know what's expected of you, Michael. Come on, Agnes. It's time for the governor's reception. Goodbye, Miss Lynn. Well, Theodore, is it all perfectly clear now? Yes, very clear. You know, Michael, I think you need an artist model. I need a what? An artist model. What for? Well, you know very well what for. To mow the lawn and transplant things, a little plain and fancy whistling, you know. Oh, yuck, yuck, yuck. Well, you get it very funny. You mean I insisted on gardening for you? Uh-huh, and I've been carrying the favorite model for you. You see, you're living in a jail, too. You can't call your soul your own. Tied to a woman you don't love who doesn't love you, and so scared of Papa, you're afraid to breathe. But our situations are very much alike. No, they're not. I just happen to have respect for the old boy that's all. I see. And you love me, Michael. Oh, you know, I do, darling, and when I'm free, the world is ours. Well, about when will the world be ours? And after that, that means within two years. And, Michael, darling, to people of our age, two years is a lifetime. You may seem that way, Theodora. Theodora, where are you going? I'm going to use your phone if you don't mind. Well, now... Hello? Hello, is this the desk? Those boxes and things that were left in the foyer, will you send them up to Mr. Dane's apartment, please? Thank you. Well, wait a minute. What boxes? What things? Hmm, hmm, some new outfits I just bought. No more prim little linty or bonnet. Hats that sit on an angle like this. Oh, wait a minute. Now, show me the toolhouse. Theodora, what do you think you're doing? Moving in. After all, what's the little scandal in the life of a model? Are you little... Oh, you're moving in, are you? Moving in. Tony! Miss Lynn is moving in. Pack up, Tony. I'm moving out. Miss Adams, what's happened to you? Why, what do you mean, Mr. Davies? Well, your clothes are so different. Is that a silver fox? Oh, genuine. And wait till you see me in my backwards dress, just for the evening, of course. Oh, fine. What evening? Oh, now, let's not be too social. You're office on business, Arthur. I came here to have a fight. Fight? I'm just satisfied with the treatment I get for my publisher. I mean you. In short, why don't I get any publicity around here? Publicity? But my dear Miss Adams, you... My dear Miss Adams, my dear Miss Adams, yes, you sit there and call me Miss Adams, but who else knows I'm Carolyn Adams? Nobody. The white is selling author in the country and who knows anything about me. What? Does anyone know that I'm fairly young and modern? No, but they're going to. Now, I'll give you one more chance, Mr. Stevenson, publishing company. I want publicity and I want a lot of it. I want my picture on every jacket of every book of mine that's sold and I want the story of Theodore Lynn and Carolyn Adams splattered over every paper of every town in the union and that goes for the L'Olympia Bill Gautoux. Now, look here, what are you doing? Yeah? Yeah, Miss Baldwin, will you come in and bring your book, please? Oh, and one aspirin for Mr. Stevenson. Oh. Looking. But she is pretty. Fanny, you ought to be ashamed. She's a disgrace to this town. I'll see Mary Lynn about this. I'll see, I'll see you. Oh, Mary, what is it? It's the bugle. It's Theodore. I'll see. In my next book, Gentlemen of the Prayer, I'm telling about a small town girl who always wanted to be called baby. She goes to the big city and meets a tall, handsome stranger and she is called baby. Is that the story of your life, Miss Adams? Well, I shouldn't wonder. And who's the man? Oh, no, please. One question, Miss Adams. This is Michael Dane's apartment. Yes, gentlemen, it is. And you can tell your papers, gentlemen. The whole thing is a frame-up. I don't even know the lady. I've never been to Linfield in my life. Then why is she using your apartment, Miss Dane? Yeah, why? Well, it's a mistake. That's all. Oh, get out of here. Yeah. The whole story, Miss Adams, says he doesn't even know you. Oh, now, does he really? When are we going to get the dope on this thing, Miss Adams? Yeah, the work. Well, are you, gentlemen, going to the governor's reception? Well, you will if you say so. Then, gentlemen, I say so. Well, it's got to stop. All this publicity, I tell you it will ruin my chances. Oh, I've been doing my best, Father. I've denied everything she said. What more can I do? Or is there anything new in the papers today? No, she can't do anything else now. It'll all blow over. Michael, Michael. Oh, what is it, Agnes? I hope you're satisfied. She's here. What? Yes, here. Carol and Adam. Here? Here at the governor's reception? Not only at the governor's reception, she's dancing with the governor. Michael, all right, all right, all right. And the reporters all over the place. They're taking pictures one after another. Get out there, get out there, and get her away. Take her out on the terrace anywhere, but get her away from the governor. All right, but how? Go on, go on, go on. Get out on that terrace, go on, go on. Ouch, that's my elbow. Yes, and this is my father's house. Now, listen, Theodore, if you cause any more scandal here tonight, I won't see you again for a lifetime. That also goes if you aren't out of this house in 15 minutes. That also goes if you don't get out of my apartment, out of New York inside of two days. Is that clear? Michael, did you mean all that big speech? Yes, I meant every word of it. That I'm to go back to Linfield? To Linfield. And wait? And wait, dear. I'll be free in two years. It's really good bye, Michael. Yes, darling. Oh, now there's nothing to go to peace about here, especially here. All right. I'll go back home. But I would like something to remember you by, Michael. Sure, sure, anything, dear. A kiss? Well, not here. When I see you off, I'll come to the train. Oh, no, you won't. You won't come to the train. You'll be afraid. No, Michael. No. All right, darling. Very well. You win. Darling, hold me close. Yes. Yes. Hold it! Thank you, Miss Hallow. Wait a minute. What is this? A picture, Mr. Dean. And a honey. Yes! Pictures, newspapers. This was your idea, Theodora. Hi, Michael. If I ever said I loved you, I must have been crazy. Goodbye. That's the statement. Oh, Mary, listen. Is that a band? It's a whole fight. It's Uncle Oh. Afternoon, Miss Lin. Jed Waterbury. What's that doing down here at the station? I invited him. Why? Got the whole town out to welcome Theodora back home. Jed Waterbury, I could slap your face. Oh, Mary. Well, I could. Theodora's been away almost two years and the whole thing had blown over and now he comes along and stirs it all up again. Here comes the train. But you don't understand. I'm a free man. Free as hell. The baby now. Hand her down to me. Don't be silly. This isn't my baby. What? No, it's Adelaide Perry's. She got off at the other end with her husband. Theodora. Jed Waterbury. You better tell that story to that young fellow who was here a minute ago. What young fellow? He disappeared when he saw the baby. Who? I think his name was Dewberry. Dewberry. Dewberry. I'm Mary Holababy. Where is he? Michael. Michael. You forgot your child. Oh, you idiot. You said it. I came here to tell you I was free. That I wanted to marry you. And what happens? What happens? You, you, you mother. That wasn't my baby. It was Adelaide Perry's. I was just doing her a good turn. Oh, oh, you mean, oh, then, then, then. No. Aren't you an idiot? Yeah, I am. But you've done your good turn for the day, haven't you? Yeah. Yes, well, uh, would you do another and kiss me Theodora? Oh, Michael. I'd love to. We say farewell to Theodora goes wild. In a moment Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant return to take a verbal bow. But first a word from Melville Rueck. Before our stars return for their curtain call, let me ask the women of our audience a question. When do you wash dishes? After every meal? Twice a day? Once a day? There's a lot of debate on this subject, so this may interest you. Time studies show that the combined dishes of two meals can be done in one third less time than if washed separately. That is, if the dishes have been scraped and covered with warm water after the first meal. That's one way to cut dishwashing time. Another way is to use luxe flakes. They dissolve so fast, make such rich suds that dishes sparkle in almost no time. And while you're washing the dishes, luxe is gently caressing your hands, guarding them against dishpan redness. In fact, women everywhere consider luxe actual beauty care for their hands. It has no harmful alkali to sting and bite your skin, dry and split your nails. Since you have luxe in your house for fine things, why not try it for dishes? Get the thrifty big box of luxe tomorrow. Mr. DeMille. Back to our stars now for a brief appearance, in which we find them cast as themselves. Mr. Grant, having just returned from Hawaii, is about to plunge into India's foreign climb by starting work in RKO's Gungadin. And you, Mr. Dunn, what have you to report about current screen activities? Well, Mr. DeMille, I'm engaged in one of Hollywood's most popular pastimes. It's far more popular than enjoyable. I'm story hunting. I'm waiting to make another picture, but it seems before we can start, we have to have something to make a picture about. That's a shrewd observation, Miss Dunn. I have a great part for you in Union Pacific, but we won't start shooting on that until September. How about you, Carrie, any ideas for Irene? Well, yes, Mr. DeMille. Funny, just this week, I was thinking about it. Well, give me a chance to think too. What is it? Well, it's just a thing for you, Irene. Now, at the beginning of the story, you're a small-town girl, living with a couple of maiden aunts, you see? Yes. Yeah, now, all your life, you wanted to do things and go places but you never could. You know, small-town old ladies, nothing to do. Anywho... And the girl, the girl suddenly writes a book. And through the character in the book, she does all the things she's wanted to do, but never dares. Yeah, that's exactly what I was going to say. You like it so far? Oh, I think it's wonderful. Now, what happens next? Well, that's as far as I got. Do you want to carry out, Mr. DeMille? Oh, I think it's such a good idea. Let me see, yes. At the end of the picture, the girl, the girl, she comes back to the town, and let me see, I seem to feel something about a baby. I don't know just what it is, but the idea will come. I'll get it. Yeah, now, look, she's holding the baby in her arms. The boy thinks it's her baby, but it really isn't. He starts to go away and she runs after him and everything turns out all right. And I see you're worrying over stories. Nothing to it. Well, I'm awfully sorry, Carrie, but you're a little late. We've already made that picture. You did it, huh? Mm-hmm. Yes, we call it the Buccaneer. Well, let's do it again and call it Irene Dunn Goes Wild. Well, that's just what I'm about to do, Mr. DeMille. Well, when you do find your story, Irene, it's going to be a good one. We've yet to see you in anything but a hit picture. Thank you, sir. It's been grand coming back here again and playing a part on a program that I listen to with so much enjoyment. And we hope you'll return again and again, Miss Dunn. You too, Carrie. Oh, that's fine, Mr. DeMille. As a matter of fact, I'm working on a radio story right now. It's about a small town girl who writes a book. Good night, Mr. DeMille. Well, wait a minute. This way, Carrie. Good night, Irene, and thank you, Carrie. We also thank Columbia Studio, whose latest production is You Can't Take It With You and through whose courtesy tonight's play was presented. The Stars and Play in the Store for You Next Monday Night are announced presently by Mr. DeMille. Assisting tonight's stars were Noreen Gemil, as Aunt Elsie, Lou Merrill as Mr. Stephenson, Myra Marsh as Ethel Stephenson, Joe Duvall as Jed Waterbury, John Phee as Mr. Dane, Helen Christian as Agnes, Lee Millar as Uncle John Lin, Sybil Harris as Mrs. Hanks, Mary Lansing as Secretary, Chris Coffin as Tony, Jack Morrison as News Boy, Frank Nelson, Sydney Newman, and David Kerman as reporters. The original story Theodora Goes Wild was written by Mary McCarthy, Lois Silvers appeared through courtesy of 20th Century Fox Studios, where he was in charge of music for the new picture, Three Blind Mice. Mr. DeMille. Since the first of the year, Hollywood has been without the services of one of its finest actors and favorite citizens. But refreshed by a vacation in New York, he's just returned and has chosen the Lux Radio Theater as the scene of his first Hollywood appearance in many months. The star is Frederick March, who with his lovely wife Florence Eldridge will be here next Monday night in Manslaughter, that memorable play in which he starred on the screen. Manslaughter is based on the novel by Alice Dewey-Miller and is the melodramatic romance of a district attorney whose life is law, and of a woeful young society girl whom he's forced to send to prison before they finally find happiness. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night, when the Lux Radio Theater presents Frederick March and Florence Eldridge in Manslaughter with James Beeson. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This program, ladies and gentlemen, came to you with the good wishes of the makers of Lux Flakes, those fine gentle soap flakes used in the wardrobe departments of all the leading studios in Hollywood and by thoughtful women everywhere. As Mr. DeMille told you, next Monday night we bring you Frederick March and Florence Eldridge in that great play of romance and melodrama, Manslaughter. So listen in again next Monday night. Be part of the large audience that gathers each week and coast to coast to hear Hollywood's celebrated stars in the finest plays of stage and screen. And so until next Monday night, this is your announcer Melville Royce bidding you all good night. Thanks for the memory heard tonight was from the big broadcast of 1938. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.