 Family Theater follows in just a moment, but first listen in on Mutual's party line every Saturday night for programs the whole family will enjoy. See if you can spot Jack Bailey's deliberate mix-ups before the contestants on Comedy of Errors, a half hour of hilarity. A favorite parlor quiz, 20 Questions, brings the animal, vegetable and mineral game new sparkle as the experts try to identify Bill Slater's subject in only 20 questions. And Chicago Theater of the Air sends a full hour of your favorite melodies from the world of music, singing your way. For family party night listening, tune to Mutual every Saturday night for Comedy of Errors, 20 Questions and Chicago Theater of the Air over most of these stations. Family Theater presents Stephen McNally and Gale Storm. Cooperation with Family Theater presents Stephen McNally in the Stephen Foster story. To introduce the drama, your hostess Gale Storm. Family Theater'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 Theater urges you to pray. Pray together is a family. You know it's a funny thing about dates. How sometimes dates tie people and events together when often they have no connection. For example, take July 4th, 1826. While bands blared and people cheered celebrating the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, three notable events occurred. Up in Quincy, Massachusetts, a 91-year-old patriot died. John Quincy Adams, our second president. In the same day, at almost the exact hour, Thomas Jefferson passed away. Down in Pittsburgh, a baby was born. He was Christian Stephen Collins Foster, and today his statue stands with Adams and Jefferson in the Hall of Fame for Great Americans. What did Foster do? He wrote songs, songs that reached deep into the hearts of people. He made America sing because he gave us a music of our own. He sang of home and family. Put love and laughter and family into words that are so simple, they're as popular today as they were when he wrote them almost 100 years ago. He left us a rich family heritage, for whenever families gather around a piano, Foster's songs are sung, sung by the field worker, the river man, the lumberjack, and by the mother to her child. They're immortal because they are family songs. Family Theater is pleased to present Stephen McNally in our story of America's most beloved composer, Stephen Collins Foster. I was Stephen Foster's friend. When I met Stephen Foster, he was deep in debt, had no money, and was drinking away the few years left of his young life. You see, Stephen Foster was sick. He had consumption. But he had another sickness too, a sickness that no doctor can ever cure. He was lonely and homesick. I was something of a poet. I'd written lyrics for songs. One night I stopped at my usual grocery store in the corner of Hester and Christie streets in York City. It was an old store with a room and tables in back where they served food and ales. I made some sales, I hope. Not that I worry about the money you owe, but maybe you could pay a little. I'll settle up in full, Mr. Schmidt, any day now, and I'm sure to sell some new poems tomorrow. I could just meet a good songwriter. That's all I need. A songwriter? Maybe I can help. As one comes here often, almost every day, sits always by himself at a table and back with his mug of ale. Ball's wrapping paper writes notes down, so he can't be much of a writer. You know his name? His name? Let's see. His bill is here too. Foster. Foster, that's it. Not Stephen Foster. Come over to his table. You talk with him. Excuse me, but this young man wants to meet you. I'm George Cooper. Are you Stephen Foster, the composer? Yes, I'm Stephen Foster. Sit down, Cooper. Waiter, bring some ale, please. What can I do for you? Well, I've admired your songs for years, eh? I write lyrics and some poetry. Maybe, uh, would you consider just reading them? For lyrics? Words for songs, eh? Songs. You're sick. You look pale. That cough sounds bad, Mr. Foster. I can't seem to shake it. No, I'm not sick, Cooper. Except in my heart. I'm homesick. You? Homesick? Homesick. Tired. Broke. Oh, come on, let's get out of this place. You come home with me. Here, you pick up your music and put on your overcoat. It's snowing pretty hard outside. Overcoat? I haven't got one. Where is that? Oh, here, here. This music. It's a song I just wrote. I have to stop at Woods Music Hall and see if I can sell it. Cooper, we'll see what sort of a deal I can make with Mr. Wood for my song tonight. That new song you mentioned, Foster? Where is it, by the way? On this old wrapping paper. I wrote it in Schmidt's grocery. Just before you came in. Oh, there's Mr. Wood and Back by the piano. Oh, hello, Foster. What have we got tonight? Another new song? Need money, I suppose. Oh, this is one of the best yet, Mr. Wood. You'll like it. Hope it's better than the last few. Didn't have much luck with those, Foster. Let's see it. Willie has gone to war. Another war song, huh? Well, I don't know. Wait till you hear it played. It's a different kind of war song. All right. Tommy. Tommy. Yes, Mr. Wood? Come and run this song on the piano for me. All right, Mr. Wood. Right away. Another new Foster song. Let's hear it, Tommy. Okay. Here goes. Here, Foster. Fair. People are getting sick of war songs. North and South both, but I can try it. That's enough, Tommy. I'll give you ten dollars for it. That's ridiculous. Don't sell it for ten dollars, Stephen. Let's try a big publisher. I can't do that, Mr. Wood. Ten dollars. You know it's worth at least twenty-five. Ten dollars now? Another fifteen if the music hall audience likes it tonight. Take it or leave it. I'll take the ten dollars, Mr. Wood. Stephen Foster and I became close friends. Started writing songs together. Stevie's health improved, but he was moody and worked by fits and starts. Often he'd let days go by without writing a note. He'd paste the floor of his room, stare out of the windows for hours. Then a flash of inspiration would come and he would work all night long to get a tune finished. I'll never forget one day like that. We were working on a new song that Stevie had entitled, The Happy Days at Home. I thought it was one of his best. It certainly sounded good as Stephen played it. And then suddenly his mood changed. It's no use, George. I can't stand New York City, all the people any longer. I'm writing songs I don't believe in. It's killing me. Songs aren't any good either. Like this one. Stop, don't corrupt that song, Stevie. That's a real foster melody. Ah, happy hours at home. Foster, living in a rooming house and writing pot boilers about home. My songs, they lack something, George. The publishers know it too. They pay me less and less. Well, they're selling, Stevie, every day. They're selling because of my name. The first tune I wrote was better than these. I was home then. Home with my family. Those were the days. You've never told me, Steve. George, I was only exactly about 20 years old. My brother, Dunning, gave me a job as a bookkeeper. I was a pretty good bookkeeper, too. But I spent all my time at Dunning's office at the riverfront. One day, as I sat there on the dock, Rice's minstrels were going aboard a riverboat for a trip down the Mississippi. Well, everybody was happy. Everybody was laughing. At last, when the whistle blew for sailing, Rice's minstrel troops gathered at the rail to their latest minstrel town. Those minstrel men changed my career. My brother was sure surprised. Stevie, why waste your time listening to minstrels? Stick to your job. Stick to business. Dunning, remember the songs I wrote in Pittsburgh? I think they're just as good as the one Rice's minstrels use. Maybe I could have them published. You're not a songwriter, Stevie. They were fun for kids to sing, but that's all. Now, about these invoices for the show... Dunning, I'm going to take those songs to Mr. Peters, the music publisher. Believe me, Stevie, Peters won't want your songs. That's what I gave up bookkeeping. Peters took both songs, published them, too. Of course, I didn't get paid anything, but people liked them, and pretty soon the best one was played everywhere. Such words, Stevie. Just homey nonsense. It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry, the sun so hot I froze to death. Susanna, don't you cry. George, I knew I could write better songs than the crude things the minstrels were using. And sure enough, a short time later, Mr. Christie paid me $100 for just a few minstrel songs. Put the composer's name on them, too, didn't he? Yes. Words and Music by Stephen C. Foster. My brother Morrison helped me with one. I was all excited about it, too. What's troubling you, Stephen? I've almost finished a new minstrel song for Christie's minstrels. I need a good, two-syllable name of a southern river. How about the Yazoo? Oh, no, no, that's no good. I tried PD, that's no good either. Well, let's look at my map. Ohio, Kentucky. Oh, here's a little one. Swanee River. Swanee? Oh, well, that's it. That's perfect. Swanee. Way down upon the Swanee River. Far, far away. That's where my heart is turning ever. That's where the old folks stay. Way down upon the Swanee. Old folks at home. What a beautiful theme, Stevie, home and family. No one in America writes about home the way Stephen Foster does. You know, sometimes it's hard for me to understand how you do it. Say, I think I know why your heart is not in your music. Maybe it's Jane you need here in New York to make you happy, Stevie. Why don't you tell me about Janey? Jane McDowell is the most beautiful girl in Pittsburgh, so I thought. Lots of other fellows felt that way, too. The boys were the thickest flies around the old Dr. McDowell's house. But old Joe favored me a little. Old Joe had been with the family for years and years. He drove the doctor's carriage. Looked after Jane, too. Joe enough is it you back again tonight, Mr. Foster? Mm-mm, what a pretty blue-caired flower. Miss Janey, home, you think she'll see me, Joe? Well, I suspect she is, and I suspect she will. You're just coming on now, we'll ask her. Who is it, Joe? Wait a minute. That young gentleman what plays so nice, Miss Jenny, he brought you some more flowers, too. You suspect you'll see him, Miss Jenny? I'll be telling you in a minute, Joe. But don't tell him that. Tell him you'll have to wait. Well, there's your answer, Mr. Foster. Now, don't you let her like you heard that. Oh, thank you, Joe. Someday I'm going to write you into one of my songs. You mean it? You mean you're sure enough to put Old Black Joe into a song? No, it doesn't. It doesn't put Old Black Joe into a song, now. You're early, Mr. Foster. My flowers, too. They're lovely. Thank you. They're not half so lovely as Jane McDowell. Flatterer. Did you bring a new song to play for me this evening? Well, there's something more important than music on my mind. Jane, it's about... Well, it's... Oh, Stephen. And I have to get it over with quickly. Well, are you sick? You're flushed and nervous. I wrote it down, I rehearsed it, I came right over. Miss Jane, I mean Jeannie. Is it yes or no? I mean... Oh, Jeannie, dear, will you marry me? Stevie Foster, you silly boy. Marry you? Oh, yes, Stephen. Yes, I will. That's when songs seem to write themselves, George. We had a home, our home. And I had the most beautiful wife in all the world. I hope you'll meet us soon, my Jeannie. One of the first songs was written just for her. The time of Jeannie with the light brown hair Born like a baby Later, Jeannie and I came to New York. How different it was for this. Then it was all fun. The theater, concerts, parties. But, Stephen, we shouldn't be going to another party. You should be writing music. The songs come hard these days, Jeannie, dear. I've been trying to finish the one father's faithful whole Joe in it. Remember I promised him? It just doesn't sound right. Oh, it's probably wonderful. Let me hear what you've written. Well, this part's all right. Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay. Oh, I like that. Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away. I can't seem to finish that song. You're just tired, dear. And maybe a little homesick. New York has been fun. I'm happy wherever you are, Jeannie. What is it? There's something about the place we were born. The friends. The family we grew up with. You feel that way too, Jeannie. That's what you've been writing into your music. Why everyone loves your songs. Oh, well. Anyhow, you'll be the bell of the ball tonight, Jeannie. I want you to dance and sing. You'll learn a little? Just a little with me. Make it a night we'll remember for years and the ball is over. We'll come back here and pack our clothes. This time tomorrow night, we'll be on our way back to the place you belong. We'll be on our way home. Had some wonderful times then. I'll always remember the trip Jeannie and I took down the river to Kentucky in Cousin John Rohan's Federal Hill. Welcome to the Allegheny. Finest boat on the Ohio. I'll guarantee you all a most pleasant trip to Louisville. Thank you, Captain. This is our first boat trip together. Our friends are giving us a real send-off. Must kind of like you. I'll listen to them. Discerinating. Stevie, Stevie, it's your song. It's Luziana Bell. Oh, it's wonderful. Phil Flatton sitting at the captain's table. Prettiest girl on the boat. Oh, Captain. Finest dinner a man could ask for it too. Feed them up passengers to keep them happy. Eating and singing to make people feel right. But now I have a surprise for you this evening. Some of Mr. Christie's famous minstrels are aboard going to Louisville. I'd like to have fun on my boat and I'll induce them to give us some entertainment. Mr. Orc Lasterlita, if you please. I guess that you and your fellow grown-ups get up and sing one of the right Sagranist songs in the country. Giniasco, I'm embarrassed. Oh, no, no, Steven Woody. That young man in the third row there. Next to the lovely girl with the soft brown hair. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Stephen Foster. Ladies and gentlemen, I don't write great songs. They're just songs some people like to sing. Give us a song, Mr. Foster. Oh, no, no, I couldn't do that. Lay one bar, Mr. Foster. No, no, please, please. Maybe Mr. Christie's minstrels... Mr. Foster, Mr. Foster, you have just solved Mr. Boat's problem. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you one of Mr. Stephen Foster's latest songs. Well, Stevie, you know I couldn't let anyone else drive you out to Federal Hill after all these years. This carriage ride along Kentucky roads really thrills me. Stevie, you picked yourself from my dear pretty wife. You know, the Fosters always did have excellent taste. You're teasing me now. Oh, it's good to see you, John. Why, do you need your blushing? Tell me, John, is your home changed? Is Federal still the home I recall the wide lawns, broad fields, charming houses? What, hasn't changed in 50 years, Stephen? I can hardly wait. Oh, you'll see it right around this bend, Janie. I'll close your eyes. All right. I'll keep you shut. Now, now, now look. Oh, Stephen, John, it's like a dream. Hurry, John, so we can get close to it all. See, Janie, the white magnolias, corn fields behind, meadows of bluegrass. Oh, those clouds of pink blossoms near the house. Yeah, crepe myrtles, that's where Father's buried. There's the house, crisp and neat. It starts with dignity. Oh, this is the home feeling men like to sing about. Something that isn't built. It just grows out of kindness, understanding, and love. Yes. You know, Stephen, everyone's mighty anxious to meet the genius of our family. Oh, not a genius, John. Just a writer of minstrel song. So happy I'll never forget a single minute. Yes, Janie, it's something we'll long remember, Federal Hill. This is a second home. It's part of me. I love the hills, the fields. Kentucky is filled with music. It's summertime. The sun's shining brightly. Corn tops ripe. The meadows all in bloom. Everybody's happy and gay. Hi, Janie. Hi, Janie, that's a song. Summer, the darkies are gay. And the corn tops ripe. And the meadows in music are... Song, Stevie. That's an immortal song. But tell me, why did you ever leave Janie and come to New York? Well, I didn't have money enough to bring her with me. I hope to write and sell enough songs in New York to bring my family together again. And they pay Stephen Foster only a few dollars for his music because he's broke. 38 years old and a failure, George. Janie doesn't know. I can't tell her. Stephen, you need the things you left. You have to go back. Now promise me you'll go home to Janie. Promise, Stevie? Home to Janie. Yeah, that's it, George. Yes, I will. I will go home. Story is hard to tell. I didn't see Stephen again, alive. You see, he had an accident. In this pocketbook, they found only 38 cents and a scrap of paper on which he had scrolled the words Dear friends and gentle hearts. Had he been thinking of a new song? Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me Drops are waiting for thee You know, some people think it's strange that people like Stephen Foster should immerse themselves so deeply in their work but in show business, as in everything else, hard work is the price of success. I know it is the price that must be paid for happiness in family life. Making a home and filling it with love and understanding is a full-time job, a lifetime job. It's a work that needs God's blessing and constant help and that's where prayer comes in. Ten minutes a day spent in praying together as a family can mean the difference between success and failure in a home. That's why we of Family Theatre earnestly recommend family prayer as a daily practice in every home for the family that prays together, stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Peter has brought you Stephen McNally in the Stephen Foster story with Gail Storm as your hostess. Others in our cast were Jean Bates, Ken Christie, Herb Rollinson, Herb Bygren, Wally Mayer, Jim Nussar, Lamont Johnson, and Bill Barron. Our soloist was Ernie Newton. The script was written by Harold Wallace Stack with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theatre by J. F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theatre broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program by the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theatre stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Loprano expressing the wish of Family Theatre that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week at this time when Family Theatre will present John Lund and Ruth Hussie in the Other Glory. Join us, won't you?