 Remember a Hallmark card when you carry enough to send the very best. There's an outstanding story chosen by one of the world's best known authors. The distinguished novelist, Mr. James Hilton. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is James Hilton. Tonight on our Hallmark Playhouse, we turn again to the rich store of our national history and dramatize one of its exciting chapters, The Career of Andrew Jackson. With Alfred Leland Crabb's fine book, Home to the Hermitage, is our source. We shall tell the life story and also the love story of a soldier who became a president. America's seventh president, as a matter of fact. Like many another occupant of the White House, he kept a home to go to when his fighting days were over. And this home in the beautiful Tennessee countryside was well called The Hermitage. Andrew Jackson, old hickory as his admirers call him, was a man of strong and passionate heart. And to portray him, we are fortunate to have with us one of America's most stirring actors, Burgess Meredith. And now, a word about Hallmark cards from Frank Goss before we begin the first act of Home to the Hermitage. Hallmark is the name to remember when you want to remember your friends. For birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, holidays. There is a quality about Hallmark cards that whispers good taste. And you'll send them with pride for that identifying Hallmark on the back adds meaning. It says you cared enough to send the very best. Now Hallmark Playhouse presenting Alfred Leland Krabs home to the Hermitage, starring Burgess Meredith. The searching heart. We loved the Hermitage and we loved each other deeply. And yet there was this deep core of difference between us. I could leave the Hermitage content to know it was there waiting for Mark, but to reach the Hermitage was the word. I see her now as she looked on her bridal day more beautiful than any woman that ever lived before her. And more beautiful than any woman would ever be again. Beautiful day, Mr. Jackson. After all those months of heartaches and nightmares and terror, to be your wife. I don't think about the past. That's behind you. You keep your eyes on the future. There are no shadows in the future. I can't wait until we have our own home. I want to put my fingers into the soil and see it flower and bear fruit. I want to put curtains at your windows and plan your meals and tend your half fire. I want to make a home for you that will mean so much that you'll never leave it. Now wait, I have to leave at times. I'm a soldier and a fighting man as well as a lawyer, you know. When my country needs me, I must go. Yes, I know. When your country needs you, you will go. You're shivering. It's nothing. Someone must have walked across my grave. A grave? What kind of a conversation is this for our wedding day, Mrs. Jackson? These are gay hours and reckless hours. The hours of our youth. Tell me you love me, Mrs. Jackson. I love you, Mr. Jackson. Rachel. Oh, Rachel. In October of 1791, I took Rachel to the land I bought in the Cumberland country. And the autumn fires of gold and rod burned low by the roadside. And the trees were a glory of russet and scarlet against a blue, blue sky. And she stood in the shaft of sunlight looking up at us. She's a woman turned to gold. And the words she spoke gave meaning to the day and to my lifetime. Oh, my husband, we're home. We are home. We are home. As of Rachel, my mind has indelibly recorded. Rachel is a bride, a bride radiant and young. And Rachel coming home to the land like a child to its mother. Rachel happy. Rachel in despair. What shall we do? What shall we do? Andrew, as your friend, I dreaded to come to you with this news. And yet as your friend, once I'd learned it, there was nothing else to do. Now, look, that scoundrel, that blanket, Louis Rodin, deserted Rachel. He deserted long before we were married. But, John, we were assured the legislature had granted him a divorce. They didn't, Rachel. All the legislature did grant him was the right to sue for divorce. What can we do? Well, your former husband has procured a divorce recently, of course, but since you and Andrew have been married for some time now, I think it would be best just in case anything might come up at some future time to go through another marriage ceremony. No, no, I'm not going to put Rachel through any such humiliation. Andrew, you have a great career ahead of you. If there are any loose threads to be tied up, they should be tied up now. I tell you, Rachel and I are married, and I'll kill any man that says... Now, Mr. Jackson, there's no use letting your temper heat up until it's as red as your hair. If we've blundered, we must set it to right. Besides, I want to be absolutely positive that you can't get away from me. Rachel, I couldn't live without you. Well, what shall we do, John? As of our life together, she had only to put her hand on my arm and say my name in her own soft manner, and she had her way with me. And so we married again, and those whom the Lord had joined let no man put a sundry to push our plow across the years. Rachel at home and I, well, sometimes at home, sometimes away. I was a major general in the state militia, and I served a term as congressman from Tennessee, and from 1798 to 1804, I was judge of the Supreme Court in Tennessee. I was away from home for long months at a time. That was sorrow and happiness. We had a fine house for a while at Hunters Hill, but I lost that when I endorsed some notes for a friend. But the little we had left, I bought the hermitage. On those days, it was scarcely more than a two-story cabin, crest of a slope. It was sunset when Rachel first saw it. I looked at her face and I saw a radiance I'd never seen before. I swear I'll build you a finer house than the one we lost. Twice as fine, I swear it. Oh, Mr. Jackson, I never guessed it would be so beautiful. I want to live here all the days of my life. I want to live here. I thought the other house was home, but it wasn't. Mr. Jackson, when you brought me here today, you brought me home to the hermitage. Here shall I live and die and love you eternally. For the fowls and portraits of Rachel watching the hermitage blossom and come to life beneath her hand. Oh, Mr. Jackson, just look down there. Did you ever see anything more glorious than those orchards in blossom? Rachel, Rachel, sitting in the lamp light with her sewing, listening to me talk about crops and their rotation, and wonder about the winds of soil and weather. You have no need to worry about the crops, my husband. The hermitage has been blessed by the Almighty. The crops will grow. Rachel, standing by the window with a baby in her arms, looking like a Madonna. Mr. Jackson, did you ever see anyone so beautiful? He's ours, ours to raise and keep. He's ours. Seven Donaldson's wife had to, and they can't raise them both. They said we could adopt him. Oh, Mr. Jackson, may I present Mr. Andrew Jackson, Junior. My memory is except my memories of Rachel. And then other sounds and voices fill my ears. The war drums and marching feet, the guttled dying screams of the Creek Indian and the Seminole, and the deep morning silence of the forest when their screams were still. And I remember being commissioned a major general in the National Army, and I recall quite vividly the splendid military front of King George's men, and how my ill-trained, ill-clad men fought for honor and for country, and they won. And I remember how as we marched toward home in weary camaraderie, those men of mine gave me a new name. Once more, I came home to the hermitage. But new forces would work all around me. New voices, new thoughts. Whatever you're doing here by the fire at this hour of the day. What's that? Oh, I came in to do some thinking. I didn't realize you'd come back from town. Rachel, I've been asked to run for president of the United States. President of the United States? Yeah. That would mean you would have to live in Washington. That would mean we'd have to live in Washington. Darling, you shiverings. Shall I close the windows? No, it isn't cold. Someone just walked across my grave. You know what they said to me when they asked me to run? Rachel, they said that I am like the nation. I was made in its image. Never before of any words pleased me as much. Rachel, this is my land. These are my people. I'm on fire to serve them. I'm on fire to help build this nation in every way I can. Then you must run for president, Mr. Jackson. Yes, Rachel. I must run for president. Starring Burgess Meredith. Here's a little game to try with your friends. Next time a group of you are together, ask this question. Ask what name they think of in greeting cards when they want to send the very best. I've tried this with my friends, with different groups, and they've always given the same answer. You see, greeting cards are a purchase that people really think about and consider carefully, and for an interesting reason. You buy greeting cards only to send to others, never for yourself, so naturally you want the finest. And above all, you want the words on each greeting card to express you to others. Words so sincere they will comfort a friend in sorrow. Words so gay and amusing they will bring cheer into a hospital room. Words so well chosen for every occasion they will make friends and keep friends and bring loved ones closer. And through the years, people have found just such words of strength and courage and friendliness and sympathy on hallmark cards. They've found there is always a hallmark card to say just what you want to say, the way you want to say it. That is why it is easy to remember it would be difficult to forget. To look for that hallmark on the back of every card you choose when you care enough to send the very best. And now here is the second act of Hone to the Hermitage, starring Burgess Meritus. Rachel, there's something happening to Rachel. This is that lad of Randleberry's. He's been hurt. He's asking to see. Now later, Reverend, you later I'll be glad to go and... Oh, Andrew, the lad's dying. It was the Lord himself that put you on the street. Well, I was going out to the Hermitage and my carriage to bring you in. You've been the boy's idol. He only wants to shake your hand before he dies. He says you stand for everything that's fine and honorable in this country. All right, Reverend. I'll go with you. You say the Lord himself put me on the street? I think perhaps the Lord put you on the street and sent you after me. I'll go with you. I remember Rachel's face when she heard I'd lost the first election or she was radiant with joy and relief. And I remember her face four years later. When I told her I'd been elected president of the United States for one fleeting moment before she had control of herself, she looked as though she'd been dealt a mortal blow. But then her head went back and she smiled. She was magnificent. Mr. Jackson, I'm very proud of you. Yes, my heart has recorded a thousand portals. I remember her face the night I found her sobbing downstairs. Yes, until I die, I remember her face that night. Rachel, what's wrong? What is it? Don't cry like that. Tell me what's wrong. You know I love you. Yes, I know you love me. Have I said something that hurt you if I have? I swear I didn't mean it. Mr. Jackson, I can't go to Washington with you. I can't go. Why not? Because I'm not the kind of woman to grace a president's house. What did you say? Look at me, Mr. Jackson. Look at me and... I'm not a poet or a musician, but if I was the greatest poet or finest musician in the world, I'd still lack the power to translate you into words or music. I see in you everything a man dreams and prays to find in the womb, and that's all I live for. Every man alive must envy me, for I found beauty and I married her, and I kept her for my wife. Oh, my dear. My dear. You have no idea at all what I really look like, have you? You look as I describe you. Today, I was at Mr. Back's shop in Nashville. I was in the back. The ladies were in a fitting room. They didn't know I was there. They said, one of them said, I do hope he won't take that woman to the White House with him. It's bad enough to have him there, but her. And another lady said, I understand she's a good hand in the kitchen, and someone else said, if he's got good sense, he'll leave her in the kitchen. That's where she belongs. Dirty malicious fork-tongued lion. I don't, Mr. Jackson. That doesn't help. No, it doesn't. You mustn't take it personally, Rachel. It isn't you that they hate, it's me. Those women are probably married to men who oppose me in the election. You must come to Washington with me, Rachel. I couldn't live there without you. I'm afraid you must, Mr. Jackson. Why? It's cold in here. Mr. Jackson, someone's walking across my grave. Rachel's dark hair on a white pillow was a sudden brief and hopeless illness. Dider-Bed trying to hold her against the tide that no man can control. Mr. President. Don't talk. You save your strength. You must rest. I want to talk. I shall have time enough for resting presently. You know, I was just thinking of the first time I ever saw you. Someone introduced us, and you took off your hat. And your hair was so red in the sunlight that it blinded me. That's why, you see, it isn't red now. Some of the days you and I have lived through have been hard on red hair. Seems as though it was summer only a day or so ago. Promise me one thing, that you'll keep the hermitage. Keep it just as we have kept it. Don't let strangers have it. We made it. We've lived here. It's... As long as I live, no one's ever going to have the hermitage, I promise you. I'll keep it just as you've kept it. The house and the fields and the gardens in orange. Oh, yes. I shall be close by. I shall know. I'll never be far from the hermitage, Mr. Jackson. Rachel. Rachel. You're going to be a great president. How can I be great without you beside me? I shall be here, waiting at the hermitage. I'll wait here for you until the end of your life. There's so much to do. So much to do. Rachel, how the days pass, all that somehow I stumbled through them, that suddenly, it was the last morning, it was time to go to Washington. Reverend Hume comes in. They ask me to tell you that your coach is waiting. Oh, thank you. Thank you. I've been writing some lines to leave out there with her. May I hear them? I wish you would. This is Rachel Jackson. She died on December the 22nd, 1828. And her face was fair. And her person pleasing, her temper amiable. But she was a benefactor to the rich in example, to the wretched and to the prosperous and ornament. Her pity went hand in hand with her benevolence and she thanked her creator for being permitted to do good. She was a being so gentle and so virtuous that slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death when he took her from the arms of her husband could but transport her to the bosom of God. I'll be outside in the coat, General. I'm going to ride as far as town with you, if I may. What? Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes. A man must do the things he was meant to do. And personal heartache and grief must be put aside for the work at hand. Will you sleep peacefully while I'm gone until I come to wake you from your sleep? Until the day when no earth lies between us and I come home to you and home to the hermitage. I'm coming. And shamrocks and the wearer of the green. Before then you'll be choosing your hallmark cards to celebrate the occasion. For the friendly get-togetherness of St. Patrick's Day makes all America seem one big happy family. And whether your friends are Irish or not, they'll smile with pleasure as you wish them good luck in the finest Irish tradition. And there's no trouble at all with hallmark cards. The selection is so wide, you'll find hallmark cards for the Ryleys and the Rhyans, the O'Malleys and the Quinns. Delightful hallmark cards that transplant a little bit of heaven and sprinkle Irish eyes with laughter. For your own dear Cushilla McCree, you'll find a sentiment as lovely as the Lake Sochilarney. And for that friend who's simply green with envy of the Irish, there's a hallmark card to gladden his heart as he shares the day's festivities. So before next Thursday, visit the friendly store where you buy your hallmark cards for your St. Patrick's Day Remembrances. The hallmark on the back of each card will show you cared enough to send the very best. Here again is James Hilton. You've made one of the great characters of history live for us, Burgess Meredith. Thank you for a splendid performance. It's always an honor to appear on hallmark playhouse, Mr. Hilton. And I'd like to thank, if I may, Jeanette Nolan for a fine performance as old Hickory's wife. But I really enjoy doing tonight's story very much. And we liked it too, because with all its emphasis on love of home and family, it also happens to be true. It's just the sort of story we like to find for hallmark playhouse. Well, I think that explains why your program always makes one feel somehow the richer for having heard it. And hallmark cards have that effect too. They express such friendliness and sincerity. I'm always delighted to receive them. And I always look forward to hallmark playhouse. What have you selected for next week? Next week, in honor of St. Patrick's Day, we shall present the Three Wishes of Jamie McRuin by Charles O'Neill. The winner of a Christopher Award, this story tells of the Three Wishes of a young Irishman and how remarkably they shaped his life. And of equal pleasure to us is the fact that our star will be Richard Todd, whose recent success in Hollywood has also been remarkable. Our hallmark playhouse is every Thursday. Our director-producer is Bill Gay. Our music is composed and conducted by Lynn Murray and our script tonight was adapted by Jean Holloway. Next Thursday then, this is James Hilton saying, Good night. Those that have been carefully selected to give you expert and friendly service, remember hallmark cards when you carry them out to send the very best. This is Frank Goss saying good night to you all until next week at the same time when James Hilton returns to present Richard Todd in Charles O'Neill's The Three Wishes of Jamie McRuin. And in the weeks to come, Charles Bickford will star in Opalee Berryman's Pioneer Preacher. And for our Easter story, we singsters the Arbutus Bunnet on the hallmark playhouse. This is KNDC, Kansas City, Missouri.