 Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage. Kathy Lewis, Elliot Lewis. Two of the most distinguished names in radio. Appearing each week in their own theater. Starring in a repertory of transcribed stories of their own and your choosing. Radio's foremost players in Radio's foremost plays. Ladies and gentlemen, Elliot Lewis. Good evening. May I present my wife, Kathy. Good evening. Tonight, a nostalgic play. Come back with us to the days before World War I. The days before we girls used to bob our hair. The days of the Model T Ford. When we fellas wore a starched collars. And all it cost for two ice cream sodas was ten cents. Come back with us to Greenwich Village in New York City. And meet all the young hopefuls. The artists and writers and musicians who live there. Our scene, a converted boarding house deep in the village. Our people, two boys and two girls. The boys live upstairs, the girls downstairs. Our story, take my hand, my love. By Samuel B. Harrison. Where you been? I got a haircut. I was growing down over my collar. You got home early. Yeah. Hang if I know how you can work on this old rattle trap. I manage. Any mail for me? No, just that. For me. From Harper's. Hmm, rejection? Yep. But I don't get nearly rejection slips. I get the nicest letters with my returned manuscripts. Read that. Hey, Fred. Hmm? I'll have to owe you my share of the rent till I get paid for the last batch of pot boilers. No, that's all right, but golly. Well, I'll have to check in a few days. Hmm. Walt, you know you can't earn a living writing blurb for a greeting card. Yeah, I know, but it keeps me alive until I get... Till what? Did you get a book of poems published? How many of the greatest poets of all time died popular? I never thought to be rich. All right. But you can't have a decent suit of clothes, a couple of dollars in your pocket, be able a Saturday night to take a girl to Lushaw's for dinner, maybe a Broadway show. You. When's the last time you had better than a 30 cent dinner at Marlborough Lotties? What's wrong with being a newspaper man? You don't hear a word I'm saying, do you? No, sure, but I don't see anything wrong taking a girl to Marlborough Lotties, even if it isn't very soignier and dinner costs only 30 cents. Oh, what's the use? Just look at Norma. Oh, it's a fetching hat, Beth, but isn't it a little old for you? I really think it is. Well, I have to make an impression, don't I? Did you impress anyone? I certainly did, and you'll never guess who. Whom, darling? David Bellasco. No. Yes. We talked for half hour. Oh, he's the grandest, kindliest man. He asked my age. I told him 19 going on 20. How did he believe me? Did he ask you to sing for him? No, he doesn't do musicals. Well, then why? I wouldn't mind doing a dramatic role, like Maude Adams and Peter Pan. Where'd you get that old-fashioned tin bathtub? Borrowed it from the janitor's. Whatever for? I'm going to paint you in it. You mean like September more? Yes, but I'm going to call it Saturday night. Why? Because farms and small towns, a Saturday night bath and a tin tub on the kitchen floor and in the stove But gracious. Will people see me like that in the museum or art gallery? I hope. The folks back home ever see you. I'll disguise you, honey. I'll give you a snuff nose and auburn hair. When do we start? As soon as I finish this, I'm working on. There. There's as good a bow as I can tie. Ah, thanks. Fred. What? Have you got a speaking acquaintance with the girl, artist I think lives below us? Uh-huh. That cute little trick staying with her cat's your eye? That 17-year-old infant, certainly not. Uh-huh. No, no, no. Seriously. No, I mean Norma Saunders, according to the name of the letter box. Don't you know each other? No. I said something once, you know, just joshing, and you were really interested? I'd like to know her. She's a prude vinegar in her veins. Because she isn't easy to know. Ah, she's an old maid. She's under 30. She has dignity. A lovely, sensitive face. Skinny as a rail. Looks consumptive. No. She has an ethereal quality. Wow. Love comes to Walt Kidridge. Invite her out to dine in continental atmosphere of ma birdlotties, or write her a sonnet. Don't be an ass. Hot here. Uh-huh. You miss the breezes of Vermont? Oh, no. I love Greenwich Village. Everything about it. That basement place you took me to. Guido's Den. Mmm, just candlelight. Of course it's a little smelly, but so romantic. Artists and writers sitting around, even on the floor talking, arguing. I think it's wonderful. Yes. It is wonderful. There's also a heartbreak here. I want to paint. You hear that? She wants to play. That man upstairs pecking away at his typewriter. Thousands who come few succeed. Most ultimately give up the struggle and vanish into limbo. New, hopefuls come to take their place. If I don't get anything, can I come stay with you again next summer and try? If your mother lets you. I'll be 18, man. Norma, don't push away your plate. Oh, I've had all I want. My goodness. I don't know how you keep up your strength. Now, you finish that. I have no appetite. I can't. You must force yourself to eat. Go on. The room's cooled off. Close the door. Snooper. It's like the tendrils of a grapevine. Your lips are rose petals kissed by the morning dew. Your form isn't from a woodland. There's your line. Oh. Other nights, look at the mud you've tromped over my kitchen floor. Is that the place for your gauntlets? Chop some wood, delch, you'll know yesterday's hand bone for dinner. Go on. Oh, good I did. That means good luck, a surprise. Yes. Aren't you ever going to marry? Worried and being left on the shelf? No. What I mean is, well, as long as I've been here, a little man caller or gone out with one and you don't seem to... What in heaven's name? That, hanging eggs, something in it. Wow. It's not come down on a string from upstairs. I'll find out. Hello? Let's finish the dishes. Ignore it. Maybe it's something like a drowned kitten. Nonsense. Kids, I remember one. There are no children upstairs. Let's take it in and see what it is. Encourage the idiotic... Certainly not. Close the window. No, I'm not going to stifle here just because of that. Give me those scissors. Now we'll see. It's a bottle. Maybe there's a note in it. Distress, like island cast away. Silly. Wow. Italian port wine. There's a note on it. You snatcher. Read it. Dear Miss Saunders, please accept this. A glass of port before a meal stimulates the appetite. Humbly, Walt Kittridge. The eavesdropper heard when we were having dinner. He couldn't help it. The door was open. Which one of the two upstairs is this? The taller one. I know the other one's name Slade. He's nice. He smiled at me. Of course, of course. It's undoubtedly to be introduced to you. Oh, no. Oh, yes. Just tie that bottle back on the string. Wait, I'll write a note to go with it. Put him in his place. No, Aunt Norma. You don't hold yourself in very high esteem if you jump to the conclusion that the man is interested in me. We couldn't possibly be you. You put yourself on the shelf and I know you're only 29. Going on 28. He finds himself humbly. He does a sweet thing like this. You want to put him in his place. If you're the person I think you are, you'll keep that wine. Write a nice note of thanks and tie it on that string. Yes. Sit down, Joe. I'll be shaved in a jiffy. Where did your border walk over the weekend? White planes. A cousin lives there. You know you've got a fine talent. But head in the clouds. Now, last week he sent in 30 pieces of dog earl rhymes for greeting cards. They took nine. A dollar and a half a piece. Hey. Hey, Fred. What? This by the typewriter titled Take My Hand, My Love. Read it. A sonnet. Love ballad. That's lyric. It's much too impassioned to be written without some particular female in mind. Is there someone? Oh, yes, yes, my jingo. She lives right below us. Come here. I'll show you something. Yeah, window sill. See that nail? He ties a string on there and sends down notes, hauls up the answers. Can you beat that? A grown man. Oh, but why if she lives downstairs? Oh, the lady is unapproachable. Look, obviously he wrote that Take My Hand, My Love for her. But he'll never have the gumption to send it down. But if he finds it missing... Type of copy he'll never know till the walls of Jericho come tumbling down. That's enough of this for now. Finished already? Oh, no. I thought you had to deliver those drawings by Monday morning. They will be. Now I'm going to set you in that tub and paint. Tonight? It's Saturday night, isn't it? Night of the bath. This canvas isn't a masterpiece. It'll at least be authentic. Little of the left. Now a kettle on the stove. I'll do that. You start getting undressed. When you stop giggling, I'll believe you're really 17 going on Twitter. Yeah, I must get a kerosene lamp. Gives a wonderful yellowish glow. Actually, water in the tub? It's not necessary this first sitting. Oh, pull down the shade. And Norma, there's a note. I see it. Let's see what I'm doing. There. There's your Mr. Kittridge. I don't know what he said in that note, but I think you're wrong. Please, best, stop playing Cupid. I don't want to hear anything more about him. I'm sorry. You are listening to Kathy and Elliott Lewis on stage. Tonight's play, Take My Hand, My Love. If you knew of some neighbors in financial trouble or perhaps in emotional straits, you'd tell them if you knew which social agencies in your community could see them through their difficulties, of course you would. In the same spirit, Americans contribute annually to community chests and the United Fund to see to it those agencies continue to be there when needed. Give the United Way to make your community all it needs to be for those in need. A wog. I say wog. Yeah. Seen the lady downstairs since you're back? No, once or twice. Why? Just curious. Any change in her attitude? Yeah. Strange, I used to get a smile and a word of greeting. Cold shoulder? Excuse me, a feeling I'm not there. Well, if you want my advice... I don't. Oh, Miss Saunders, I'd like to talk to you. Yes? I hoped we were going to be friends. Is there any reason why you're again looking the other way and passing me by as if I were a pariah? I'm obliged to make explanations. Well, of course, but... let's be adult. Yes, let's be adult and stop the childish game. Notes on strings. All right, but you still haven't told me why. Because you're impudent. I impudent? Well, how? This past Saturday night... Go on, please. I don't want to discuss it. I made a mistake when I accepted that bottle of wine. I was out of town Saturday night. I must really ask you not... Did you say you were out of town last Saturday? That's right. I spent the weekend in White Plains. Oh... Oh... Will you forgive me? Sure, sure. For complete amnesty, will you come and have coffee with me? I'd be delighted. Good, let's go. Say, uh... Won't you tell me what it was Saturday? You thought I'd... Let's talk about something else. Okay. Is that, um... that chap you live with a very close friend? Well, not really close. He has his interests. And I have mine. You write. Well, I try mostly poetry. Published? Or occasional short pieces in Scribner's Argosy, The Post. So little I've got to write blurbs for greeting cards. Perhaps I should have stayed put teaching school. Where? Dexter, Ohio. Where are you from? Bennington, Vermont. Long here in the village? Seven years. You? Eight. Oh, here we are. Is this all right? Yes, thank you. Just coffee, please. Are you an illustrator? I like to think of myself as a painter. My cupboard would be there if I didn't have this commercial work to do. Is that it? Yes. May I see? Yeah, animals. I try to do amusingly for a toy manufacturer. Yeah. Mm-hmm. These are amusing. Fine. Truly fine. Must be fun doing them. Yes. It pays fairly well. Say, look. How would you like to do a children's book with me? Thing publishers like Best I'm Told is to get the illustrations with the story complete. Oh. I like to do whimsical little fables. Got any written? Yes. Oh, thank you. But yes, but I've got a corking new idea about a little chick who didn't want to be born afraid to face life lying snug and safe in his shell. Uh-huh. He envisions danger of the fox and the hawk a bleak winter fight for a possession of a worm he finds. Do you see it? Yes, yes. Of course, he finally emerges and finds there's beauty in the world. Yes, very much. When? I'll do it tomorrow. And I'll put it in your letterbox. No, bring it in or send it down the usual way. Oh, listen to it blow. Yeah. Hey, shut the window, will you, Walt? Yeah, all right. Shame to let these tickets go to waste. Oh, give him the wall. He goes for high-brown music. He can take her downstairs. Any repercussions on another thing? Say, Walt. Yeah? Our music critic gave me a pair of tickets for the opera for tomorrow night. Traviata, Borsmi, Stiff. You want the tickets? Well, I've got a business dinner date tomorrow night, but, well, yeah, maybe I can make it. Good, good. Well, here you are. Thanks. Thanks, Fred. Well, so long, fellas. So long. Hey, look, Joe, I think that love ballad we sent down backfired, but she wouldn't refuse the opera. I'm going to ask her. Let's do it for him. Oh, what if she accepts? Oh, I'll tell him and he'll kiss me for it. If she refuses, nothing lost. Yeah, but he said... I know what he said. Sit down there and type as I dictate. Darling, you finished reading the little chick who didn't want to be born? Oh, it's cute. The cutest story. Are you going to do it? I've already started. Really? Yes. There's a sketch of page one. Here. Do you like the worried look on motherhand's face? Yes. Both your names will be on the book. If it's bought and published. And something else. I'm going to be opera tomorrow night with Mr. Kittridge. When did he ask you? While you were reading in the bedroom. There's an invitation swinging out there. I simply wrote yes with my initials and tied it back on. He hasn't pulled it up yet. He will. Of course I'll have to get some things. All right, Blue Taffeta. I saw just the thing. Organdy, collard and pout. Fred, how much longer? I mean the note. It's 6.30. Take another look. See if she took it in yet. No. Not still there. Same sheet of yellow paper. Well, all it up and skip the whole thing. Hey, Fred. The wind blew the note. String caught in the next house fire escape. Boy, I gave it a yank. The note tore off. There it goes over the roof. It's gone. Well, that's that. Nice perfume. He isn't coming to take you. Because, darling, he has a business dinner appointment up town. It's blowing to rain. It's been blowing to rain for two days now. There. How do I look? Lovely. Just lovely. Turn around. Perfectly divine. Taking your umbrella? This is blue and I... I'm off. Enjoy yourself. I simply wanted to ask... What are you doing here? I came in out of the rain. Why aren't you at the Manhattan Opera House where you asked Aunt Norma to meet you? I? You. I didn't ask. You sent down a note on the string yesterday asking her to go to the opera with you tonight. Now, she's standing there like a fool. I'll go there now. What's the least you can do? Why didn't you take a cab home? Could you get a cab? Oh, poor dear. You're chilled. Off with that. There. Steaming hot bath and getting to bed and hot tea. And I... Don't. Don't cry. He isn't worth it. I don't care about the dress or anything. It's just a humiliation. I know. Corned drug store to get some fine iron. I'll be right back because she's back upstairs in bed. She's never been very strong. And if she gets pneumonia, you're gonna be... Let's go. Let's go of my arm. Listen to me. I didn't send any note. Do you hear? You tell her that. I didn't send it. If you didn't, who did? I thought you went to the opera. Did you send down a note in my name asking her to meet me there? You did, didn't you? Well, yes. Why? Why? I wanted to help you. You meddling, blithering idiot. Hey, hey, cool off. She never got the note. The wind blew it off. I ought to bash your nose in. I'm not carrying you anyway. This is my place and you can get out. I will now. I'll be back tomorrow to give you the $12. I owe you to pick up my things. If my wire's that permission, I'm in the show. Rehearsals start next Monday. Five weeks, then we open in Philadelphia. Oh, that's wonderful, honey. You think you can take care of yourself? Of course. Norma, you're not going to start working the second day out of bed. Oh, this is no exertion. You're not going on with that book after what he did? Yes. Mr. Kittridge didn't do it. Then who did? The fellow he lived with up there. Stupid, practical joker. I know. Don't ask me how. I know. I just know. No, Mr. Marlowe, you're the first publisher to see it. Fine. A happy union of talents, your illustrations and Mr. Kittridge's story. Why didn't he come with you? He moved. You quarreled? No, we didn't quarrel. But I'll find him and we'll make it up. Good. When you do, here's the contract. Here's us the option on the next book you do together. Three copies. You both sign. Bring them in and we'll give you the checks. Advance on royalties. Goodness, I thought I'd have to go without saying goodbye. Oh, it's a great day, darling. I found out where to reach Mr. Kittridge. Really? Maverick Lottie, a woman who runs that restaurant on McDougal Street, told me. He's working for the New York Herald. Now the Grand Central Station. I'll send him a telegram from there. Aunt Norma, you're in love with him. There. You keep one, one for me and one for the publisher. Not so fast, please. First, some of Ma Bertolotti's good port wine to sharpen the appetite and celebrate the occasion. There. Will you toast it? To the little chick who didn't want to be born. We're afraid to face life. But learned it could be joyous. And many more books we'll do together. Since we're collaborators. May I call you Norma? Please do. Walt? You were laid up 10 days. August 14th was your first day up. How did you know? I'm a newspaper man. I... I hope you won't think I'm taking advantage of a situation, but... Well, some time ago this summer, as I sat at my typewriter, dreaming as a poor scrivener does, I wrote a little sonnet to you. That's very nice. What did you call it? Take my hand, my love. Will you, Norma? Yes, Walt.