 Family Theatre presents Joan Leslie and Steven McNally. From Hollywood, the mutual broadcasting system in cooperation with Family Theatre brings you Steven McNally, as the star of The Bid Was Four Hearts. To introduce the drama, here is your hostess, Joan Leslie. Thank you, Larry Chatterton. Family Theatre's purpose is to promote family prayer in the belief that prayer is the most powerful force at man's command, and as such must be given a place in our hearts and homes, in our times and in our world. And now to our drama, The Bid Was Four Hearts, starring Steven McNally as the narrator. Friends, I'm going to tell you a story. A story of four American chaplains. Four chaplains who, in the early hours of a February morning, made a strong and beautiful bid. Chaplain Clark Pulling, North. I'll pass. Chaplain John Washington, East. I'll bid four clumps. Chaplain George Fox, South. I'll pass. Chaplain Alexander Good, West. I'll bid four hearts. Four men, two Protestant ministers, one Jewish rabbi, one Catholic priest. Four men made a bid, and the great whole nation will remember this night and for all time that the bid was four hearts. You were sleeping, though, as cold February night friends. You were sleeping quietly, and while you were sleeping, the big gray shadows were out in the water. Convoy, they call it. Convoy moving in the night, carrying men and material for the United Nations. Convoy stepping cautiously over gray waters that are treacherous with submarines. Below the deck of the troop transport Dorchester, four chaplains are sitting in officer's quarters. And suddenly there's a knock on the door. Chaplain's quarters? Hmm? Oh, step right in, Jimmy. Boy, it's nice and warm down here. If you ask me, chaplains, this Nord Atlantic ain't so hot. I'm standing up far on deck looking for submarines of water like that. Oh, what do you get, Jimmy? I get my nose froze. Oh, by the way, gentlemen, I'd like to meet on you orderly. Jimmy, this is Chaplain Good. I just do. Glad to know you, Jimmy. And this is Chaplain Fox. And over here, Chaplain Pulling. How are you, Jimmy? Glad to know you. Where's the matches? Oh, I got a order all fixed up nice, sir, Father Washington. Oh? But what I want to know is, who follows who in the church services? Well, I'm saying Mass at seven o'clock, Jimmy. Oh, I know that, Father, but what I want to know is, does the Jewish service follow you, or is there a Protestant? Well, perhaps Chaplain Pulling might explain. Well, if you don't mind, Jimmy, you can arrange the order for Protestant services after Chaplain Washington says Mass. I get you. Is that agreeable to you, Chaplain Good? Perfectly all right with me. I'm holding my service at six. If it doesn't make any difference to Chaplain Fox. No, not at all. No, no, leave me get it straight. In other words, Chaplain's face, it's a Jewish service at six o'clock with no cross, and the order turn around, right? Right. Then it's a Catholic service at seven o'clock with the cross, and the order turn around out of way, right? That's right. Then it's a Protestant service, but let me see, it only turn around out of way again, right? Right. And then, you know, Chaplain, does it be a heck of a lot easier for me if you can only get together sometimes? The convoy moved steadily to the north, and now that they were approaching Greenland, the escort destroyers were beginning to tighten their screening lines. The destroyers were getting nervous now, and a certain skipper was getting nervous too. It's black as a pitch out there tonight, Jackson. Yes, sir. Any other reports? You mean about the submarines? Yeah. No, sir, there's nothing. Let's see the chart. Here you are, sir. Hmm. Getting pretty close to Greenland. We're riding deep in Germany's North Atlantic submarine zone, but a wind like this in our face, a submarine can do funny things. And these were the sounds that night. The large sounds of wind and waves, the small friendly sounds of light boats swinging on the davits, the muffled gray sound of boots keeping vigil on the bridge. And then the night gets very quiet in the North Atlantic. The vets get very quiet in a dark cabin. A chaplain has time to lie in his bunk and remember. Chaplain polling was remembering that night. Chaplain polling, they call me. Chaplain. Somehow in this dark room, the memory of that first fear comes back to me now. I remember how you looked at me, Dad, when I, your young minister, opened the door that day. What's the matter, Clark? Dad, I'm no good. I'm a failure. What's the trouble? A man's dying, Dad, now, and I, I can't help him. Did you try? Yes. But I, I just couldn't help him. Maybe you tried too much, Clark. What do you mean, Dad? I mean, did you give God a chance? Well, I, I... Now you go back, son. Go back to that man. And remember, you're nothing but an instrument in God's hands. I'll never forget that, Dad. Never. An instrument in his hands. That's all you are, Clark polling. Dear God, help me always to be your instrument. And, and watch over Corky and Thumper and Dad. Watch over Betty and all of us tonight. Four men in the room had time that night for remembering. And always the memories ran straight to home. A young rabbi was remembering that night. Chaplain good, they call me. Hmm, funny. Lying here in this cabin. I wonder why. And yet I don't wonder why. I know the reason. I suppose the reason could go back to a day in French class. I'm thinking of you now, Therese, my lovely wife. I remember how you looked that first day I spoke to you. Back at Eastern. We were just kids. Mind if I sit next to you, Miss Flags? No. I forgot my French book. I thought maybe I might look on with someone. I see. This is the second time you forgot your French book, Mr. Good. I know. I might forget it tomorrow too. Yes, we were very young. But even then, I knew I wanted to be near you, Therese. Always. I wanted to be near everything that's good. I wanted to be happy. I guess that's it in a nutshell. Wanting to be happy. Everyone wants to be happy. Everyone. Oh God, my father. Look down on us tonight. Look down on Rosalie and Ruth and Ethel. And my wife, Therese. And God, help us all. Help all men to find ultimate happiness. Yes, there was time for remembering about a troop transport. And while men were remembering, the convoy was moving north. Another day came, another day passed. It was an entertainment. He's knockers. It's my great pleasure to introduce Therese Nagan. He used to play the piano. He used to sing some funny songs. You know what I mean? Anyway, he used to sing those songs until one day the chaplain hired him. And the chaplain didn't like them songs. Butch was singing. So he walks up the Butch who was playing the piano and he says, young man, do you know the ten commandments? Butch looked at the chaplain and scratched his head and said, you got me there, buddy. Well, a couple of points. I think I might be able to follow you. Those were the sounds that night, friends. They were happy sounds. And there was silence, too, later. The silence that always returned in the night and left the man alone with his remembering. Chaplain Fox was remembering that night. Chaplain Fox, they call me. They weren't too sure of me the first time they saw me. I remember how they looked when they asked me the questions. You're a Methodist minister? Yes, sir. Hmm. George Fox. Born in Lewiston, Pennsylvania. 1900, is it? Yes, sir. Hmm. Born 1900. Don't you think you're a bit old for army service, sir? Oh, I don't think so, sir. Quite a rigorous life, you know. Yes, I suspect that, sir. I suppose you also know that a chaplain's life will be far different from, shall we say, the congenial surroundings of a parish in Vermont? I quite understand, sir. I wonder if you quite understand. Oh, I think I understand war, if that's what you mean. You do understand war? Yes, sir. So many people think they do. Well, I was engaged in active duty with the Second Division in World War I. Wounded in combat, sir. Received a Purple Heart, Silver Star, and Quadra Gap. With palm, sir. With palm? And I also have a son who is a Marine in this war, sir. Yes, yes, of course. You see, I think I do understand war, sir. And naturally, naturally. You laughed when I told you that, Mary Elizabeth. Yes, I'd like to see the sun shining again in Gilman, Vermont, Lord. I'd love to see it again. The sun shine and hills. And Mary Elizabeth and Wyatt, and you, my wife. Yes, it will be a great day, Lord, when this old fox can come home to all his cubs again. The big gray ships were still moving north. And the slow procedure on the high seas was being written on the log. But there were some things that were not written on the log. Jimmy, the chaplain's orderly, was shining candlesticks that afternoon. Someone knocked. Well, what can I do for you, Sergeant? I was looking for one of the chaplains. Oh, the chaplain's is busy. What do you want? Well, it's about a letter I wrote to my girlfriend. Girlfriend? Yeah. Well, for crying out loud, what do you want the chaplain's for? Well, it's... Oh, I get you. You mean you want a little help, sort of, huh? Yeah, that's right. I don't know spelling so good. Well, why don't you say so in a face-place? Here, give me the letter, and I'll give it the OK for you, Sergeant. Here. And be careful. It took me three hours to do it. All right, I see. There. Touch. Touch, Sergeant? Is that her name? Well, that's what I call her. Sergeant, you know that touch is no name for a self-respectful dame. She was baptized, wasn't she? Well, I... Yeah, I guess so. Well, baptism is a sacrament, in case you don't know that, Sergeant. Yeah? I call her by her baptismal name, see? OK. OK, now, what is her baptismal name? Marcella. Oh, that's a nice name, Sergeant. I'll write it down for you. M-A-R. Just for the fun of it, how would you spell my cell, Sergeant? You got me. A dead touch. How are you feeling? I am fine. I hope you are the same. About getting married when I get back. You gonna marry the same, Sergeant? You bet I am when I get back. Is she a good girl? Good? You know what I mean. Well, sure, she's good. What do you think? All right, all right. Keep your shirt on. I'm only trying to tell you, Sergeant, that the only kind of a girl we're coming home to is a good girl. The chaplains will tell you the same thing. Yes, the chaplains will tell you. The chaplains told you many things. And in the quiet hours, the chaplain has time to tell himself something. Chaplain Washington, they call me. The older boys call me Father John. There was a time when I thought I'd never get quite used to being called Father. And times when I wondered what it meant to be a priest. What has it meant to be a priest? Well, being a priest means many things. It means you, Lord. The eyes and lips and mouth of you. Speaking again those words over bread and wine. That's my mass. My priesthood is you, Lord. In the long hours of the confessional, that's the way you wanted it, Lord. The sins you shall loose. That's what you said. Well, I have lost. I have liberated. Oh, my good God. A sinner have lifted my hand in absolution. Yes, it's many things being a priest. It's the babies I've washed clean with your baptism. The boys and girls I have fed with a bread of life. The young men and women I have made one in the lasting bonds of your marriage. It's the weary heads and hands I have touched with the strong oils of your extreme option. Oh, gentle Christ. Thanks for all that. Thanks for her. Mum, I see your lovely face in this dark room. And I'm remembering a morning long ago in the kitchen. I was trying to break the news to you. Well, John, what seems to be troubling you? Mum, would it make much difference if... Well, I mean... Oh, you mean you want to go away to be a priest? Yes. Sure, and didn't I know it all the while? It'll mean a lot of work and worry for you, Mum. I mean all the kids at home and everything. Well... Oh, John, what greater blessings could I work and worry for than to see you someday? Oh, John, I used to dream about seeing a son of mine a priest. I dreamed... Oh, I guess I dreamed it a thousand times or more. Even when you were that small, John, I dreamed of the great day when I could look up and say, There he is. There he is. My own father, John. Look over a little house tonight on South 12th Street. Look over my mother. The convoy moved slowly into the dawn. It moved cautiously all that day against high seas. And when nights settled down again in the North Atlantic, four chaplains were tired. So they relaxed around a table. They said casual things. You're a bit pulling. They weren't thinking about the great waters now. I'll pass, Washington. They were merely looking at cards. Well, I'll bid for clubs. Making small, pleasant calculations. Yes, I'll pass. And then... Let me see. I think I'll bid for hearts. Stand by. All hands alert. Submarines contacted. Gun crews in position. All hands, prepare for emergency. Stand by. You heard the word, stand by. You forgot the bridge game. You forgot the overturned chair. The sweater you left lying in the edge of your bonk. You forgot the hundred details. Like the letter you were writing, the shoe you were shining, yes. You may even forget your life jacket. You're just one among hundreds who run out on a cold deck. You stood there. Staring out into the dark. Waiting. Waiting like a man in a dark room. Keep staring out over the rail. You just couldn't believe it. Out there, under those wild cold waters. Men were waiting for you. Timing you. Measuring you. You waited an hour. You waited two hours. And gradually relaxed. You breathed again. You were normal again. After all, someone could be mistaken. It'd be a false alarm. You took one more look over the rail. Then you walked slowly back to the state room. Watched some of the fellas for a minute. Walked over to the bonk, sat down. Ah, ran your fingers through your head. Searched for cigarette. Found it. Ah, lay back in your bonk. Sure as it was. Just a false alarm. Like a live bubbling murderous fish. It was coming. Stand by. I got a tiger shot and it spotted you. Here it comes. Here it comes. All right, friends. Let it be said quietly. Let it be said without the noise and confusion of men jumping over the side of a stricken ship. Let it be said without the shouting of boys as they watch the cold sea come up to meet them in the dark. Let us only say that the Dorchester was gaping with a wound from which she would never heal. Right now it's getting more quiet. The lifeboats are pulling slowly away. The Dorchester is settling gradually. Four chaplains strapped in their life jackets standing on the deck of that stricken ship. Are you OK, Pauline? Fine, Washington. How about you, Rev? So far so good. And you, Fox? I'm all right. She's going fast. All the lifeboats are gone. We've got most of the fellows over the side. Wait a minute. Look at that kid. I can't die. I can't die. Take it easy, son. Where's your life jacket? I lost it. I can't die, chaplains. I can't. He lost his life jacket. Look, over there. Three more kids without their life jackets. Son, listen son. Pay attention to me. Yes, sir. No, no, sir. Can your buddy swim? No. None of us can swim. And we're afraid, sir. Afraid to go over the side. I understand. No life jackets. Well, chaplains? Yes, you're right. Of course. It's the only way. I'll take this, lad, father. If you and Pauline... And this more is mine. Here, son. Quickly. Stand up straight. All right, lad. Raise your arms. No, higher. Higher. You're going to be all right. I'm a merchant seamen. I saw it. We all saw it. We saw four chaplains give their own life jackets that men who didn't have any. When our life boat drifted away, we saw the chaplains kneeling together on a slanting deck. They were kneeling like that when the ship went down. Yes, the... the bed was four hearts. It was the complete, the ultimate bed a man can make. The bed was four human hearts. What will be our bed tonight, friends? Will we be honest with ourselves for one moment this night? Will we search our individual hearts and come up with the beautiful answer? The answer we know is right. Will we sit at the broad table of this our beloved land and play the game according to the rules of him who is the eternal God the father of all mankind? What say you player on the north? What say you player on the south? What say you players on the east and west? Will we look tonight into the eyes of our fellow man, whoever he may be? And bid a... a portion of old pride or stale prejudice or ancient hate? Or will we remember that night of February 3rd, 1943 when a ship went down 90 miles south of Greenland? Will we remember that moment when the ship was poised for that final plunge? That moment when the miracle of man's love for his fellow man converted our slippery deck once and forever into a great altar from which four men offered their gallant souls to God? Will we? When we hear a story like this one that extols the magnificent courage of such men as the four great chaplains we may wonder for a moment as to the source of such admirable bravery. It isn't surprising to realize that men who live by prayer men who perpetually place their well-being in the hands of an all-knowing and all-loving God are unfailingly rewarded with the courage of this area to meet and accept their problem be it of great magnitude or be it one of those bothersome everyday little problems that arise to annoy us. Although everyone finds it an easy matter to pray when the skies are darkest and in the face of trouble all agree that prayer under these circumstances never fails to prove a source of comfort and aid. Strange to say though many of us often overlook the comfort that can be derived from this plain everyday prayer, family prayer. That comfort, that happiness that comes from prayer rendered in time of great distress can prove just as great a source of help in the solving of our less important daily problems. When you stop and think about it the most logical time for prayer is really when things are going smoothest. Prayer of thanksgiving is a worthy and valued tribute to the good God that made all happiness possible. There's an unlimited source of courage and happiness that can be gained by everyone everywhere simply for the asking. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Robert Vigran, Charles Seal, Stan Waxman, Tudor Owen, Jim Nussar, Robert O'Sullivan, Sarah Selby, Tom Holland, Fran Lindsay, Glenn Vernon, and Michael Hayes. The script was dramatized by Timothy J. Mulvey from portions of the book by Captain L. Wood C. Nance, Faith of Our Fighters. Music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and the program was directed by Joseph F. Mansfield. Family Theater was transcribed in the Hollywood studios of the Mutual Broadcasting System.