 Family Theater presents Robert Young and McDonnell Kerry. Tom Hollywood, the mutual broadcasting system in cooperation with Family Theater, brings you McDonnell Kerry in stopwatch finale. To introduce the drama, here is your host, Robert Young. As a little footnote to our drama, I'd like to mention first Family Theater's purpose. Family Theater wants to put the word prayer back into all our vocabularies and put the daily practice of family prayer back into our homes. All our homes, everywhere. And now to McDonnell Kerry starring in stopwatch finale. Concerning Edward Gibson, legally tried and condemned to death in the Riverton Death House, there are these unusual facts to remember. Time's going fast, Warden. Get your mind off the time, Gibson. No word from the governor yet? Not a thing. Can I get you any magazines? No thanks. I think I'll just wait. What's the time? Exactly four minutes after five. That makes it six hours, roughly? Right. Six hours to live. I wouldn't keep thinking about it, Gibson. You wouldn't, huh? I'd do something, get my mind on other things. What, for instance? I'd read the Bible or something. You're asking me to read a Bible when I've got six hours to live? I can't figure a better time to read one. Yeah, yeah, I know. They all do it, I suppose. Well, if you want, I'll get the chaplain, too. You don't need chaplains of Bible, Warden, when you don't believe in God. Gibson, you wouldn't be trying to fool me, would you? I think you're a pretty decent fellow. Decent, huh? Yeah. When they tried me and found me guilty, you still say that. That's right. That's one of the facts, anyway. That's one of the reasons why I mentioned the chaplain. Gibson, you've got six hours to live. Roughly five hours and 40 minutes. All right. Now, Gibson, with five hours, 40 minutes to live, do you mean to tell me that it's just going to be all over for you tonight, just a plain blackout? That's right. They throw the switch on you, and then it's curtains. It's quick. It's over. Nothing more? Nothing more. Just curtains. In other words, Gibson, you just don't believe in God. How much time did you say I'd left, Warden? Five hours and 40 minutes. Five hours and 40 minutes. Warden, if I had five years and 40 minutes, 500 years and 40 minutes, I still wouldn't believe in God. That's on the level, Gibson. Sir, why should an electric chair make me change my mind? I can see you again, Gibson. Thanks, Warden. How are you doing? OK. You want anything to help you pass the time? No. No. Thanks anyway. I appreciate it. Don't mention it. What's the time now? 7.23. That leaves me about three hours and a half. Three hours and a half to live. I can stay here if you want and talk to you. Warden. Yes. What would you do with three hours and a half? I mean your last three hours and a half. I'd probably get a few stiff hookers into me. I could get a drink, couldn't I? Anything you want, Gibson. To be honest with you, I never cared much for this stuff. Maybe a glass of beer now and then. You want beer? Can I get you anything? No. It's something that you can't explain. Yes. I know what you mean. How'd you like the dinner we sent over? Good. A swell dinner, Warden. You didn't eat much. Oh, just wasn't hungry. That's all. You got a cigarette? Sure, sure. No word from the gopner yet? No. Nothing. Here's the pack. Thanks. Light? Yeah. Thanks. You taste good. I like a smoke, Warden. Always like to smoke. Honest, Gibson. I wish you had a million years to smoke. Yeah. A million years. There's nothing else I can do for you, is there? Sure. Sure there is. You can give me the keys and let me walk out the front door. Offhand, Gibson. I'd say you're one of the fellows I'd like to let out the front door. Think so? Yes. I followed your case. And the whole country followed my case, according to my lawyer. It was a pretty good big show, you've got to admit. Maybe if I'd never gone into that... What's the matter? It's nothing. I just keep thinking that's all. Sure, sure. I know what you mean. You know it's funny how things can happen to you. I'm here in this death house tonight because... because I walked into a restaurant one day. Would you believe that? A restaurant? Yeah. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't walked into that restaurant. What happened? Well, I can trace it right back to that day in the restaurant when she said... May I take your order, sir? Yeah, I'd like a steak, miss. Pour it out and make it on the rare side, huh? Vegetables? Spinach and potatoes. Only no cream on the spinach. Plain spinach. Yeah, that's right. Coffee? Yeah, you can bring me a cup of coffee, too. Yes, sir. I began with something as simple as that. Giving an order to a waitress. She wasn't what you'd call beautiful. Kind of a short girl. Eyes, dark hair. A Latin type of color. I fell for a warden. Felt about as hard as a guy could fall for a girl. What happened then? I married her. We went together six months. Then we had the wedding. It was okay, too. Real church wedding. Bells, organ, rice, you know. Yes. We had good times together, too, Louise and I. Had a good job. Bricklayer. Had three kids, too. Just can't figure it out. I mean, it should have worked the other way. What do you mean Gibson? What other way? I mean, about the house. We figured it was just about everything we wanted. You know how people like to get out of cheap flats. You figure if you have a nice house, good big rooms. Well, it's a place you can be proud of. A place you can invite people to, your friends. Louise always wanted a nice house. I see. And I got her a house. Boy, warden, you should have heard of that first day I showed it to her. How do you like it, Louise? Oh, Eddie, it's beautiful. Hasn't it got everything I told you? It's beautiful, Eddie. Come on, let's look around. You can't compare this with the old flat, can you, Louise? Look at these walls. Real solid. An Eddie tile in the kitchen. Green tile. You like that stuff, huh? I knew you would. This is first-class, honey. Oh, Eddie, I'm so happy. Where do you see the rooms upstairs, Louise? Are they big? Big. You can get lost in them. They're so big. They'll knock your eye out. They open sideways instead of up and down. They're the kind of windows that go with a house like this. You keep... You walk in the stairs, Eddie, and they don't even creak. Creak while you can fall down these stairs and they won't creak. You don't think I paid out cash for a matchbox, do you, honey? And look here. Brass knobs on the door. First-class, huh? Oh, Eddie, it's wonderful. One family, suburban, brick model. Cost me 9,000. That's about all I had, too. There's a good investment, Gibson. And that's what everybody said. You don't have to listen to all this, Warden. I appreciate you coming here like this. Oh, it's all right. Go ahead. I don't mind. Talk all you want. My time's my own. Yeah. Time. Time. Talk. Doesn't do much good talking, does it? That was about the time you met this Jordan fellow, wasn't it? I mean the papers covering your trial. They said something about you being... That's right. Jordan. Jordan lived down the street. I commuted with him practically every day on the age 16. I never really understood Jordan, those first six months. He was a quiet kind of fellow, almost lonesome. One day I invited him over to my house. We were sitting around that night, and before I knew it, we got talking on religion. You know how people get off in that subject when you have a get-together sooner or later and everyone starts bringing in religion. Well, this Jordan, he says... Now, please don't misunderstand me, Gibson. I'm not trying to disparage any man's belief. You and Louise happen to be... well, like my own folks, they went to church too. Respectable, conscientious type people. That was their like, their belief. I'd take my head off to them. Yeah, yeah, I understand that, Jordan. But you say this religion stuff is a lot of malarkey. Am I right? That's putting it a little too roughly, Gibson. Yeah, but you said that... I merely said that I don't believe in a God. You mean you really don't believe in God, Mr. Jordan? That's right. Well, let me get this straight. You don't believe in God. You don't believe in heaven. You don't believe in... As I see it, Gibson, God, heaven, hell, all the assorted angels, archangels and devils are merely ancient superstitions which persists in disturbing the modern mind. Now, understand, I don't question the convenience of having a religion. The convenience? Yes, the propriety, usefulness of having a religion keeps a lot of frustrated people happy. The reward motive, you know. And you don't believe in prayer, Mr. Jordan? There's no God to pray to. Why should I believe in prayer? Or a soul, either? Yes, what about the soul? Oh, just a minute. I do believe in the soul factor. It's the principle of activity. Dogs have them, cats, caterpillars, and even man. But when you start talking to me about an immortal soul, that's where I draw the line. Where do you draw the line, Jordan? Six feet under the daisies when my time comes. Gibson, my boy, after I pass out of the picture, my soul won't go up or down or sideways, which precludes the ugly business of having to stand before some inquisitive creator to render an account of the innumerable binges I've been on. Why, Mr. Jordan? You really believe that, Jordan? I not only believe it, I preach it. So how be you mine? Playing the part of the naughty disillusioner? Well, I mean, if there's no God, as you say, then what about the commandments? The commandments, Gibson, are an unusual code of the mores, allegedly dictated by some almighty Jehovah person with appropriate thunder and lightning. Now, wait a minute. You mean the commandments didn't come from God like it says in the Bible? There isn't a God. I don't see how they could. But, Mr. Jordan... Excuse me, Louisa. Yeah, go ahead, Eddie. It's a peculiar complex. Now, just hold on a minute now, Jordan. Boy, you got me in a state where I don't know whether I'm coming or going. I mean, everything I ever knew about the commandments and, well, sin. Sin? Gibson's sin is merely being caught at what society says we ought not get caught at. Society? That's my opinion. And if you're not caught? If you're not caught, Gibson? Well, then you're a free man. Caught. Caught. That's a little word, Warden. They caught me. But, uh, what else about this Jordan fellow? Jordan? Well, he had me mixed up ever since that talk we had in the house. I was trying to figure out some arguments, you know, proof about the things I used to believe in, God and things, but I wasn't too quick on the trigger. Jordan was a clever egg. I had to admit it. I said... Jordan, you certainly can't dish that stuff out while you even got me bamboozled. Maybe you're beginning to see the light, Gibson. Well, I don't know. The more I begin to think of those... Tell you what, I want you to come with me tomorrow night. Where? Jefferson Circle. I have a regular audience down there every Thursday night. You mean you really make speeches in Jefferson Circle? Uh, it's really a study. The faces of those people. Gibson, they're like a bunch of scared kids when I give them the works. What do you mean, the works? Oh, I call it my stopwatch finale. Stopwatch finale. That's what he called it. What did he mean, stopwatch finale? Oh, it's an old gag, Warden. You get out in front of the people and you pull out a stopwatch. Stopwatch. Time's really going, isn't it, Warden? My God, I'm talking here as if I had a million years to live. Did you hear what I just said, Warden? You mean about... I said, my God. Kind of a habit, I guess. Gibson, are you sure you don't want me to get the chaplain for you? No. I'm walking out on my own steam. Let's see, where was I? You were saying something about a stopwatch. Oh, yeah. Well, this Jordan used to go down to Jefferson Circle every Thursday night. He'd get up on the platform in front of the people and he'd say he had a swell voice, too. He'd say... And to prove that I'm sincere, to prove to you that no so-called God could have created this starving, this dying world, to prove that this so-called Almighty God, if he does exist, is the biggest bungler and the most colossal criminal the human mind can conceive, to prove to you that there is no God. I now serve notice on His Majesty. If what I say is not true, then I defy God to strike me dead on this platform within five seconds. I'm timing you, God. You hear me? I'm giving you five seconds to strike me dead if what I say is not true. One, two, three, four, five. So that's what he called stopwatch finale, huh? Yeah. Well, you know the rest of the story. It happens to thousands of people. You're going along, living, working, trying to raise kids and live normal. And then, boom! It's like lightning the way it hits you. You don't figure on it. You just... Well, with me, it was just a simple headache. That's how I came to know first. I had a headache that day, and I left the job early. I went home, opened the door of my house, and then I heard the laughing in the other room. I opened the parlor door, Warden. My wife jumps out of the chair like a scared rabbit almost. I wondered why she was so nervous all of a sudden. Then I looked at it. Jordan. He's grinning kind of and saying... Your wife is really a sketch Gibson. Most delightful sense of humor. Oh, Louise. Oh, you're home early, darling. I had a headache. The old sinus trouble, Ed? No, no, it's just an ordinary headache. Mr. Jordan dropped in for some tea. Oh, that's... Well, that's fine. Don't mind excusing me if I go upstairs. You're not sick, are you, darling? No, no. A couple of aspirins will fix it up. Go ahead. Don't let me disturb you. That's what I thought, Warden. A couple of aspirins would fix it up. But I couldn't get that other feeling out of my head. I thought about it for weeks. Maybe I was wrong. I hoped maybe I was wrong and that Louise was only... And... Jim Holloway. He's my brother-in-law. Jim came up to me one day and he says... You working hard, Eddie? Yeah, yeah. They keep me going when the weather's right. You know how it is with brick laying, Jim. What have you got out there in the backyard? Oh, I'm building a little garage. Laying the bricks myself. Didn't Louise tell you about it? No, that kid's sister of mine never tells me a thing. You know, some one of these days, Jim, I'm going to get a car. Louise and the kids will enjoy a trip to the beach and up to the country. I think she ought to go out more. You know, she ought to have more fun. You know how it is with women staying home all day with the kids. You know, it's just a mouth. After I get a car, you know, I... Ed. Yeah? I came over to see you for something special. You don't mind if I tell you something? No. Right ahead, Jim. Now, I don't want you to get excited. Don't want you to go losing your head or anything. What do you mean? Maybe I should keep quiet, but I'm going out on a limb and I'm doing it because I like you, Ed. What's on your mind? Now, it may be only rumors, but... Yeah? Yeah, go ahead. I don't want to rely on that guy, Jordan. What do you mean? I mean, Louise. Yeah. Yeah. Louise, thanks, Jim. Thanks a lot. So, that's how you first found out about Gibson. Hmm? About this other man, is it, Gibson? Ah, it's a dangerous thing going around with stories like that even if it's the truth. Well, Jim thought he was doing right. I don't blame him. What happened after that? Well, I was... I felt kind of sick the rest of that day. First, I thought I wouldn't say anything to Louise, but that night in the house, I came right out with it. I told her everything that Jim said. I can still see her face getting white. The look in her eyes. All right, you know everything now. What are you going to do about it? Louise, don't look at me like that. Tell me it isn't true. It is true. I love him. All right, you snooped and you found out. What did you say? The kid's Louise, a house. Well, honey, I can't. I just can't believe that you were... Oh, it's no, you said I'm fed up with it all. I'm fed up with the sneaking and the shame. I'm finished. You mean our marriage is off? Oh, maybe it was never on. But how can you say... Louise, you're not going away with him. Yes, I am. I see. I see, Louise. I saw the whole picture. So I walked out of the house. Sure. Sure, I could see Jordan's point now. It was plain. Plain as the nose on your face. But the first time it clicked, I should have figured the angle long ago. It was an old game. Old as the hills. You could steal into a guy's house, the house he's paid for and sweated for. You could steal into his house and talk to his wife, get her infatuated, turn her head, talk to his kids, be a nice guy. You could talk a lot of big talk about religion and stuff. There is no God. There is no God. You could say those words and because there isn't a God, you don't have to worry about a guy's wife or his kids or his house. All you got to worry about is don't get caught. See? Don't get caught. Society doesn't like it. Well, I wasn't worrying about society, about what's right and what's wrong. Don't get caught. If you're playing, then little Ed Gibson can play it too. Down to Jefferson's circle that night, Warden. I saw him up on the platform. A couple of hundred people were there too. Jordan was going strong. It was the same old stuff. And if what I say is not true, I defy God to strike me dead on this platform within five seconds. Gibson. All right, Warden. I'm ready and waiting. I can still get a chaplain for you. No, no. I can make it alone. Okay. Just as you say, Gibson. Warden. Yes, Led? There's one thing I didn't tell you. Maybe you'd like to know about it. What is it? The night I shot Jordan. Yes. I ran to where he was lying on the platform. I see. His lips were moving. Just whispering. And you know what he was saying? May God have mercy on my soul. He said that? Yeah. He said it. The guy who didn't believe in God. Here's the door, Gibson. Concerning Edward Gibson legally tried and condemned to death in the Riverton death house, there is this other unusual fact to remember. After he had walked through that last door, after the electrode was applied and shortly before the switch was thrown, he was heard to say, Oh my God. Thanks, Tony. You know, Family Theater's really cluttered up this program with family men, Tony included. I see, Mac, you've just become a father again. Yeah, yeah. Just in time for Father's Day. Naturally. Congratulations. First boy and third child, isn't it? Yeah, that's right, Bob. But it's you who should be congratulated. You're still one up on both me and Tony. Well, count that as a head start. Not such a great handicap either. Well, I noticed, Bob, you've just been chosen by the boys of the Boys Club of America as one of America's favorite fathers. How do you figure that? Me with four girls. Or do you figure that's the reason? Could be a fact. While we're pointing fingers, I don't suppose I ought to mention that the Los Angeles downtown businessmen named you their motion picture father of the year, huh? Well, at least I'm not in line yet to be named favorite father-in-law. Well, you have me there, Mac, but long range your competition even in that field. And the sort of competition I like to see. Bob, how about a thumbnail family sketch, a sort of little autobiography? Married 18 years, Betty and I. Correction, happily married 18 years. Four daughters, Carol Ann 17, Barbara 13, Betty Lou 7 and Kathy 5. Short and modest, but it'll do. Mac, you asked for an autobiography. I'd like to do a little twist here. For what I mean to talk about is not myself, but prayer. Go ahead, Bob. Did you ever think of prayer as a little autobiography each night? No, but I can see how it could be. Well, sort of like this. Through prayer, we tell God about the pleasures and blessings of the day. Itemize them, add them up and say, thanks. Next, we tell him our troubles. That's the second chapter, and ask his continued help. Then we look ahead, not too far just to the next day, to the next chapter, and ask his guidance. This way, prayer is a sort of self-examination, sort of a personal note-taking. That's why I call it a little autobiography. I got it. Self-sketch each person under his own byliner, or each family under the family byline. And his family theater always reminds us the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Hollywood Family Theater has brought you Stopwatch Finale, starring McDonnell Kerry. Robert Young was your host. Others in our cast were Marisol Bryan as Louise, Tudor Owen, Lamont Johnson, and Paul Maxey. The script was written by Timothy J. Mulvey with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman, and was directed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which responds to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Lofrano expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessings of God may be upon you and your home, and inviting you to join us next week at the same time when Family Theater will present Jeanette McDonnell, Barry Sullivan, and Marjorie Steele in the song for a Long Road. Join us, won't you? Family Theater's broadcaster of the world originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the mutual broadcasting system.