 Hollywood, California, Monday, February 1st. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Gary Cooper and Gene Arthur in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town with Lionel Sander. Lux presents Hollywood. Tonight, the makers of Lux Flakes bring you Gary Cooper, Gene Arthur and Lionel Sander. As special guests, Sidney Skolski, nationally known Hollywood columnist, and Faye Gillis, noted aviatrix and foreign correspondent. The producer, Cecil B. DeMille, our conductor, Louis Silvers. Welcome, everyone, to Hollywood and to another hour in the Lux Radio Theatre. Now, before introducing Mr. DeMille, I'd like to share with you a letter from a California woman, one of our unseen radio audience. This is Roberta Hearst of San Jose. I'd like to thank you not only for the treat you give us on the air Monday night, but for the boom Luxes to my household. I use Lux Flakes for all my lingerie, all fine laundering and for dishes. In every instant, where my hands come into contact with soap and water. I'm sorry we cannot give you the rest of Mrs. Hearst's enthusiastic letter, but I'd like to emphasize one point. Lux Flakes do protect a woman's hands just as they protect fine fabrics. So why not use Lux for all soap and water jobs, especially dishwashing? Lux protects the natural oils of the skin, leaves your hands soft and white. Start using Lux Flakes for your dishes tomorrow. And now, we present Hollywood's foremost producer. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille! Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Gary Cooper and Gene Arthur were born to the roles they play tonight. Mandrake Falls, where our play opens, might have been any one of the prairie towns Gary once called home. While the town Mr. Deeds goes to is the town Gene Arthur came from, New York. As Babe Bennett, Gene writes lines for her New York paper. Before she came to Hollywood, she delivered lines from a New York stage. Long fellow Deeds devoted his spare moments to writing greeting card poetry. Gary also likes to use a pencil, but instead of making rhymes, he draws pictures. He confided to me that his artistry is merely a case of advanced doodling, which had its beginning when he filled in all the olds in his third grade reader. Their work in Mr. Deeds convinced me that Mr. Cooper and Ms. Arthur were definitely the stars I wanted for the roles of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane in our picture, The Plainsman. I knew that Gary raised in a saddle could be as western as sagebrush and the setting sun. Whatever hesitation I might have had about Gene Arthur was dispelled when I saw her practicing to snap a 15-foot bull whip around a cowboy's wrist to make him drop a butt by letting her use my outstretched arm as a target. Gene had the chance to do what many stars have wanted to do, whip a director. Lionel Sander, in resuming his role of corny cub, gives us another member of the original cast together with the celebrated, pixelated sisters. Mr. Deeds has been voted the best comedy of 1936 by the New York critics, a well-deserved feather in the cap of Columbia Pictures and director Frank Capra. We've had both its brilliant author and adapter on this program, Clarence Buddington-Kellon and Robert Riskin. Now we present the stars and the story. Ladies and gentlemen, Deluxe Radio Theatre Spotlights. Mr. Deeds goes to town, starring Gary Cooper and Gene Arthur with Lionel Sander. Our story begins in the little town of Mandrake Falls, population 600. On the porch of an old-fashioned frame house, two men are waiting for an answer to their knock. They're clearly out of their element here, clearly city folks. As the older man, a sharp-eyed attorney, taps his foot impatiently, the door is opened by a motherly old lady. Good morning. Good morning. Is Mr. Long from the Deeds at home? Well, I know he isn't, but I'm expecting him any minute. Won't you come in, please? Thank you. My name is Heda. I'm an attorney. This gentleman is Mr. Cobb. How do you do, Mr. Heda? How'd you do, Mr. Cobb? Hi. Come right in here, gentlemen. Mr. Deeds is in the park arranging for the bazaar. They're trying to raise money for a fire engine. Sit down, gentlemen. Thank you. And are you related to Mr. Deeds? Oh, no. I'm Mrs. Meredith. I'm his housekeeper. Well, then perhaps you can tell us something about him. What does he do for a living? Why, he and Jim Mason own the town works. But that isn't where he makes his money. He makes most of it out of his poetry. Poetry? He writes poetry? My goodness, yes. Long fellow's famous. He writes those things on postcards. You know, for Christmas and Easter and birthdays. Yeah. How long do you think you'll be? We won't be long, because it ain't raining. When it rains, he likes to take long walks. Like? There. There he is now. I'll tell him you're here. Hey, Heda, did you hear that? Yeah. Your old man must have been goofy to leave all this out of this here, Uncle. Oh, well, how much do you figure the estate will amount to after the taxes are deducted? About 20 million. Better be careful while you spring it on him. He's liable to keel over from the shop. Good morning, gentlemen. Oh, good morning. Are you long fellow's? That's right. My name's John Cedar. The New York firm of Cedar, Cedar, Cedar and Buddington. My card. Cedar, Cedar, Cedar and Buddington. Buddington must feel like an awful stranger. It's not bad. This is Mr. Cornelius Cobb, Mr. Deeds. I am. Very well, thanks. Mr. Deeds, we'd like to ask you a few questions. Excuse me. This is Meredith. Yes, long fellow. Have you seen the mouthpiece from my tuba? Well, it's right there on the table. Oh, that's right. My new mouthpiece. I keep losing them all the time. Go ahead, Mr. Cedar. Don't pay any attention to me. I just want to see if this thing fits my new base horn all right. Mr. Deeds, we have some news for you. Yeah. I suggest you sit down, though, Mr. Deeds. Mr. Deeds. Mr. Deeds, does the name of Martin W. Semple mean anything to you? Not much. An uncle of mine, I think, although I never saw him. Well, he passed on. He was killed in a motor accident in Italy. He was? Well, that's too bad. If there's anything I can do... Mr. Semple left a great fortune when he died. He left it to you, Mr. Deeds. Deducting taxes, it's somewhere in the neighborhood of $20 million. Well, for crying out loud. What about lunch? Are the gentlemen going to stay? Perhaps. Perhaps you didn't hear me, Mr. Deeds. I said the whole Semple fortune goes to you. $20 million. Oh, I heard you all right. $20 million. That's quite a bit, isn't it? Oh, it'll do in a pinch. Yes, indeed. I wonder why he left all that money to me. I don't need it. I give up. Well, I wish you'd tell me about lunch if the gentlemen are going to stay. Sure they'll stay. Mrs. Meredith got some fresh orange layer cakes. More coffee, Mr. Deeds? No thanks. You see, Mr. Deeds, Carby here is an ex-newspaper man. He's been associated with your uncle for years as a sort of buffer. Buffer? Yeah, glorified doormat. You see, rich man needs someone to keep cranks away. Cedar? Cedar? Cedar and Buttington is funny. I can't think of a rhyme for Buttington. Why should you? Oh, whenever I run across a funny name, I always like to poke around for a rhyme. I've got one for Cobb. Huh? I went to the man named Cobb, who kept Semple away from the mob. Came the turn of the tide, and Semple, he died. Now, poor Cobb is out of a job. Sounds like two weeks' notice to me. I've gotten a saccharue in many ways, but never in rhyme. Oh, no. I didn't mean that. I'm sure I'm going to need your help. Are you married, Mr. Deeds? Who, me? No. He's too fussy. That's what's the matter with him. There are a lot of nice girls in Man Drake Falls who are just dying to... Don't pay any attention to her. Oh, he's got a lot of fool notions about saving a lady in distress. Saving a lady in distress, huh? Well, we all have those dreams when we're young. Well, we'd better get started. You'll have to pack, Mr. Deeds. What for? You're coming to New York with us. When? Tonight, at six o'clock train. That's rather sudden, isn't it? My dear Mr. Deeds, there are a great many important things to take care of. I'm kind of nervous. I've never been away from Man Drake Falls. But I'd like to see Grant's tomb at that. Fine. We'll walk around town now, Mr. Deeds, and we'll meet you at the train station. Long to long, fellow Deeds. The pride of Man Drake Falls. On the observation platform. Cedar, Cedar, Cedar and Buddington. One moment, please. Good morning. Oh, good morning, Mr. Cedar. Mr. Buddington in? He's waiting for you in your office, Mr. Cedar. Thank you. Cedar, Cedar and Buddington. Hello. I'll see you, Mr. Cedar. Cedar, you're back. Morning, Buddington. Well, what happened? What's this fellow Deeds like? We've got nothing to worry about. He's as naive as a child. Did you get the power of attorney? No, not yet. Oh, you didn't, eh? Well, give me a chance. We only arrived this morning. John, if you don't mind my saying so, we can't afford to have a... Yes, I know, Buddington. We can't afford to have the books investigated right now. But a half a million dollars. Goodness me, where do we go to get it? Will you stop worrying? Just relax and leave it to me. Those books will never leave this office. Well, I hope not. If they ever do, we'll all land in jail. Listen, I'm going to see Deeds this afternoon. I'll have that power of attorney the first thing in the morning. Leave it to me. I tell you, Buddington, the boys are simpleton. I'll take that, Deeds. Alone? No. I said no. We ain't got any statements to make. Mr. Deeds has taken over his uncle's Fifth Avenue mansion. That's all. I was depressed. Oh, where were we, Mr. Cedar? We were talking about the power of attorney. It's just a suggestion, Mr. Deeds. But if you'd give it to us, we could take care of everything for you. You could save you a lot of annoyances. Every shark in town is going to try to sell you something. Yes, there have been a lot of them around already. Strangest kind of people. Salesmen, politicians, moochers. All wanting something. I haven't had a minute to myself. Haven't seen Grant's tomb yet. By the way, where's all the money in a bank? No, there's approximately a million and a half in cash. The accountants are working on the books now. Be ready in several weeks. Sounds complicated. Oh, yes. That's why I suggested you're letting us take care of it. Rich man should unburden himself. You mean besides wanting to be my lawyer, you also want to handle my investments? Well, yes. Well, outside of your regular fee, how much extra would it cost? Oh, nothing. No extra charge. No charge. But there'd be a lot of extra work, wouldn't there? Oh, it's an added service, a firm like Cedar. Cedar, Cedar, and Buddington usually donates. Only thing, I haven't been able to think of a rhyme for Buddington yet. Neither have I. Mr. D's, I, uh... Listen, the fire engine. Hey, I got to see it. If he likes to watch fire engines, that's his business. Gee, that was a pip. We expect to have one in Mandrake Falls pretty soon with a siren tilt. Mr. D's, I wish you'd give that man for some thought. Huh? Does this matter to the power of attorney? Oh, yes, yes, I will. I'll give it a lot of thought. A fellow by the name of Winslow is in here and wanted to handle my affairs for nothing, too. It kind of puzzles me why people want to do a lot of work for nothing. It isn't natural. So I guess I'll have to think about it some more. Quite right. You have a good business, Mr. D's. Being an attorney for you is going to be a very simple affair. You're not my attorney yet, Mr. Cedar. Not till I find out what's on your mind. Suppose you get the book straightened out right away so I can look into everything. Are you suggesting that? No, sir, but I'd just like to look the books over. After that, I'll let you know if you're going to be my attorney or not. Oh, I see. Good day, Mr. D's. Good day. You know, Cobb, I think there's something fishy about him. There once was a cedar, so tall and so green, chopped down by a hick to the size of a bean. New York evening mail. Hello? New York evening mail. Mr. McGowan, one moment. I'll connect you. Hello? New York evening mail. Hello. Hello, McGowan speaking. Oh, hello, Mr. Hines. Yeah? Yeah, sure, Mr. Hines. I'll get something on him right away. Oh, it was a boss again, babe. He's yelling murder. He says this guy deeds his news and big news. Sure, but how do you expect me to get at him? Cobb keeps him under lock and key. I'm a reporter, not a magician. Well, you won't be a reporter long if you don't get some dope on this guy, and I won't be an editor. Hines is yelling for human interest stuff. What this guy deeds thinks about the big town. How does it feel to be a millionaire? Is he going to get married? Is he smart? Is he dumb? That's the angle. We've got to get it for him. How about it, babe? I'll do my best, Mac, but it'll take time. Listen, babe, you get the story and you can have anything you want. How about a month's vacation? With pay. With pay? Keep four columns open on page one tomorrow. Now you're talking, babe? I'll keep the whole front page open. How are you going to do it? I don't know yet, but I'll get to him if I have to pull a phony faint right on his doorstep. Hey, what's the matter here? Are you hurt, Miss? Oh. Here, let me help you up. Oh. Oh, I must have fainted on the steps. I sat down for a moment and, oh, I'm sorry. Can I help you? No. No, thank you. I'm all right. Well, this is my house. I'd like to... Oh, no, really. I'm all right. What happened? Well, I guess I walked too much. Been looking for a job all day. I found one, too. I got tomorrow. Oh, you've been very kind. Goodbye. Please, you must let me help you. I'm sorry. Have you had your dinner? Dinner? Why, uh, isn't that funny? I forgot to eat. Forgot? Oh, yes. I do that lots of times. I just get to thinking about something, and I forget. Well, look, I'm going to a place called Tulio's, and I... Well, I think you'd better come along, too. Feel better now, Mr. Doggie? Oh, does this taste good? I don't know how to thank you, Mr. D. I wish you'd let me help you some. Please. I asked you not to talk about it. I'm sorry. You know, you're the first person I've met in New York who didn't want something. Tell me more about yourself. Well, I've told you everything. My folks live in a small town near Hartford. I'm here alone trying to make a living. Oh, I'm really a nobody. You were a lady in distress, weren't you? What? Oh, nothing. Anything else, sir? No, thanks. Oh, waiter. Yeah? Anybody come in yet? Writers, I mean. Oh, no. Not what important. You'll be sure to point them out, won't you? Yeah. I'm a writer myself, you know. That's all. I write poetry. That's all. Well, I'll let you know. Thanks. You're a nice fellow, isn't he? Yes. Well, you've had quite an exciting time since you've been here, haven't you? All those meetings and business deals and society people. Aren't you having fun, Mr. D. No, at least I didn't. Not till now. I like talking to you. It's funny, am I finding you right on my doorstep? Yes, wasn't it? Oh, Mr. D. Yeah, Brookfield just came in. The poet? Where? Right over there. Look, Mr. Dawson, there's Brookfield the poet. Really? Yeah, who's that with him, waiter? Annabarie and Morrow. Annabarie and Morrow. Why, they're famous authors. Great liberals. Not with their tips, they ain't. Gee, that's marvelous. Right here in the same room with me. Gosh, I wish I could meet them. Well, I might be able to fix it for you. Could you? Sure. I'll be right back. You hear that, Mr. Dawson? I'm going to meet them. Talk to them. What a night. Wake up, sir. It's late. Shut it off. Shut that a little. Yes, sir. It's very late, sir. 11 o'clock. In the morning? Yes, sir. You hear my butler, aren't you? Yes, sir. I just wanted to make sure. If you permit me to say so, sir, you were out on quite a party last night. Was I? Oh, yeah. My head feels like it. Has Miss Dawson phoned? No, sir. She was a lady in distress, Walter. But she wouldn't let me help her. She's got pride. I like that. Deeds. Oh, hello, Cobb. I got to speak to you right away. Get some coffee, will you, please, Walter? Very good, sir. Now, listen, where were you last night? Why, I met a young lady, Miss Dawson. Went to Tulio's. Did you sock somebody there? A poet? Yeah, a fellow named Brookfield. Why? Why? Well, I thought I'd better teach him some manners, you see. He invited me over to his table, but after I got there, I found out he only wanted to make fun of me. So you out been socked him? Not very hard. He said some things in front of Miss Dawson that I didn't like. Go on. After you socked him. What happened then? Well, another writer there. He was in the same party. He congratulated me. He said Brookfield should have been socked long ago. Well, this other writer, he invited me out to see the town, so we went. Yeah. And then what happened? Well, it's a little hazy after that. Well, take a look at the newspapers. They ought to refresh your memory. Look, Cinderella Man on spree. Punches literary light at Tulio's. Shows big city how to cut up. Holds up traffic at 3 a.m. feeding donuts to horses. Cinderella Man, what do they want to call me that for? They'd call you anything if they give them half a chance. They got you down for a sock. I think I'll go down and punch the editor on the nose. No, you don't. Listen, get this clear. Punching people is not the solution to anything. Sometimes it's the only solution. Not editors, take my word for it. Not editors. But what about this Cinderella Man? That's my job. I'll keep that stuff out of the papers if you'll help me. But I can't do anything if you go around talking to people. Please, will you promise me to be careful from now on? Yes. I guess I'll have to. Thanks. If you feel the building rock, it'll be me blasting into this editor. Oh, excuse me, Mr. Cobb. Your coffee, Mr. D. Thanks. You know Cobb's right, Walter. I mustn't talk to anybody. Miss Dawson just called, sir. Oh, Miss Dawson? She's on the phone now, sir. Fine, I'll talk to her. Hand me the phone. Quick. And remember, Walter, I've got to play safe. She's the only one I'm going to talk to from now on. A moment on a typical Luxe home. Mrs. Ellison and her 16-year-old daughter have been listening to our play. Wouldn't it be wonderful, Mother, if someone left us a lot of money like they did to Mr. D. What would you do with it, Betty? Buy heaps of new clothes for one thing and dozens of new undies. Those lovely French handmade ones with lace and undies. Now, child, you have plenty of pretty clothes. And nice undies as it is. Oh, but, mums, I haven't. Why, even those new slips I got for Christmas look sort of run down now. That, my dear, is your old fault. How often have I told you to take care of your underthings? Wash them every night with Luxe flakes. Mine stay new-looking for months. Even years. Thanks to Luxe. Mrs. Ellison is right. Gentle Luxe flakes do keep yourself things new-looking far longer. They make your lingerie really clean without hurting colors or fabrics. Things not only wear longer when Luxe regularly, but you'll be delighted at how sweet and fresh they are. So why not play safe and be thrifty, too? Get the habit of dipping your underthings into Luxe flakes' gentle suds after each wearing. Start tonight. And once again, Mr. DeMille. Mr. Deeds goes to town starring Gary Cooper and Jean Arthur with Lionel Stander. Unaware that his newly discovered friend, Miss Dawson, is really a newspaper reporter, Longfellow Deeds has taken her completely into his confidence. She is the source of all the Cinderella Man stories that are now making front-page headlines, but she's beginning to feel the pangs of conscience. We find them now sitting on a bench in Central Park. This is getting to be sort of a habit with us, isn't it? What? I mean taking walks and going places. Yes. They are prepared. Read all about it. Cinderella Man plays the tuba. They give reception to society. Read all about it. Cinderella Man. There they go again. Cinderella Man. Does it hurt you so very much? I don't know. I've tried not to worry about it. They'll write those articles until they get tired only. I don't understand. Why do people have to go around hurting each other? Why don't they try liking each other for a change? You know, you said something when you met me. Something I thought about a great deal. What's that? You said I was a lady in distress. Oh, that. What did you mean by that? Oh, nothing. You said it was though it had some significance. You see, I always had an idea that someday, well... Have you got a... Are you engaged or anything? Well, I know. Are you? No. You don't go out with girls much, do you? I haven't. Why not? Oh, I don't know. You must have met some swell society girls since you've been here. Don't you like them? I haven't met anybody here like particularly. Except you, of course. Last night after I left you, I was walking along and looking at the tall buildings and got to thinking. They created a lot of grand palaces here, but they didn't create any nobleman to put in them. I'd rather have Mandrake Falls. I'm from a small town, too, you know. Really? Probably as small as Mandrake Falls. Gosh, what do you know about that? Oh, it's a beautiful little town, too. Row of propletaries right along Main Street. Always smelled as if it just had a bath. I've often thought about going back. Oh, yeah? Oh, yeah. I used to have a lot of fun there. When I was a little girl, I used to love to go fishing with my father. He was something like you, my father, once. He played in the town band, too. He did? What'd he play? The drums. Taught me to play something. He did? Yeah. I can accompany myself to Swarney River. Would you like to hear me? Sure. Well, wait till I find a couple of sticks. Well, here's one. All right. This vent you'll have to do is a drum. Way down upon the Swarney River. Far, far away. There's where my heart is going ever. There's where the old folks stay. Gee, that's swell. Are you doing again or not? I'll sing humorous. All right. Way down upon the Swarney River. Far, far away. There's where my heart is going ever. There's where the old folks stay. Hey, there's a fire. Here comes the engine. Hey, boy, you're coming out here. Say, would you do me a favor? Sure, why? Wait here for me. I'm going to catch that engine and see how they do it. I'll be right back. The red man proves himself fire-eating demon, jumps on board engine, volunteers to help fireman. Did you do that? No. But I didn't know they'd make another story out of it. I tell you they'll make a story out of everything. But what gets me is who's on the inside? Where are they getting that dope? I don't know. I pleaded with you not to talk to anybody. You promised me you wouldn't. But no, you've been blabbing your head off to the whole town. What have you been doing every night? Going out. So I noticed. You're not going out tonight, I hope. Yes, why? Have you forgotten you've got a reception here or the society people in town are coming? Gosh, that's right. I forgot. Well? I had an appointment. I was going to meet somebody for dinner. You can't dodge your own reception. It ain't etiquette. No, I suppose not only. Only what? Well, let me think it over. I'll let you know. Oh, it's you, Mr. D. Hello. Can I come in? Of course. All right. I didn't expect to see you this evening. I didn't think you could get away with your reception and everything. Oh, I wouldn't let them stop me from seeing you. I threw them out of the house. You threw them out? You mean bodily? Yes. They got on my nerves, so I threw them out. I guess that'll be in the paper tomorrow. Something else for them to laugh at? Yes, I suppose it'll have to be in the papers. I don't mind, though. I had too much fun doing it. Sit down. Thanks. I can't stay long, though. It's pretty late. It's all right. Is there anything wrong? No, why? Well, you just look sort of funny. I mean, sad. I get that way sometimes. How's everything going? Not so good. I'm finding things out. A lot of things. What? Well, first of all, it's not so much fun being a millionaire. I wouldn't mind if they'd let me alone, but you know how it is. Yes. I once had an idea I could do something with the money. Some good, I mean. But to keep me so busy here, I didn't get to figure anything out. I guess I'll think of something when I get home. Oh, you're going home? Well, a man ought to know where he fits in. I just don't seem to fit in around here. Mary? Yes? I was thinking of... Well, I wish you could come to Mandrake Falls sometime. Me? Yes. You know, within a couple of miles of my house, you can find nearly every kind of tree and bush and flower in the world. I used to spend hours in the woods just hiking around. It was wonderful. I'd generally take a girl with me. A girl? No, not a real one. I'd make one up just to have somebody to talk to. She was beautiful, too. I always knew that someday I'd meet her. Mary? Wait a minute. You said you found things out. Oh, so why? As town gets you somehow, it makes your course unfeeling. Don't it to me? You? Listen, dear, don't let anybody hurt you anymore. They can't. You're too real. And you go back to Mandrake Falls. You belong there. These stories about you will stop. They'll stop right now. Mary? Yes. Remember that poem I told you about? The one I was writing about you? Well, it's finished. Would you like to read it? Of course. It's to you. But you don't have to say anything after you've read it. You can tell me tomorrow what you think. I tramped the earth with hopeless beats, searching in vain for a glimpse of you. Then heaven thrust you at my very feet, a lovely angel. Too lovely to woo. My dream has been answered, but my life's just as bleak and handcuffed and speechless in your presence divine. For my heart longs to cry out if it only could speak. I love you, my angel. Be mine. Be mine. You don't have to say anything now, Mary. I'll wait to hear from you tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow. Good night, Mary. Good night. Stop it, babe. Stop it. Well, what do you mean you're quitting? True, Mac. I'm walking out on you. I'm through. What's bothering you, babe? Last night, he proposed to me. Proposed to you? You mean he asked you to marry him? Yes. Like, babe, that's terrific. Cinderella man who's mystery girl? Who is the mysterious girl? What is that? I'll blow your place up. I'm sorry, babe. Say, you haven't gone and fallen for that mug, have you? Well, I'll be a... Oh, that's tough, babe. I'm awfully sorry. Well, what are you going to do? I'm going to tell him the truth. Oh, tell him you're a babe, Bennett. Tell him you're making a stooge out of him. I've got a lunch date with him. Expect an answer. It's going to be pretty. Oh, don't be a sucker, babe. You can disappear, can't you? Oh, I thought of that, too. You need never see him again. That's the rub. Oh, it's as bad as that, huh? Tell him it's a long shot. I'm going to take it. Hand me the phone, will you, Matt? Now, listen, babe, listen. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? Right thing. It'll be a novelty for me. Hello? Oh, good morning, Miss Dawson. No, Mr. D. is not here just now. Yes? I'll tell him. Not at all. Morning, Walter. Oh, Mr. D. Has Miss Dawson called yet? Yes, sir. She was just on the phone, sir. Is she coming for lunch? She didn't say, sir. She'll call later. Oh, here. Hello, Cobb. I want to speak to you. Sure. I don't mind you making a sucker out of yourself, but you made one out of me, too. Huh? I finally had sense enough to have you followed last night. Who's that girl you've been running around with? Why, she's Mary Dawson. Mary Dawson, huh? Mary Dawson, my eye. She's Babe Bennett. Babe Bennett? Yeah. She's the star reporter on the mail. And every time you opened your kissy, you were giving her another story. That's the dame that slapped the moniker on you, Cinderella Man. You've been making love to a double dose of cyanide. Shut up. Get me the newspaper on the phone. Sure. Hello? Give me Wall 70689. Yeah. Now you'll see. Hello, evening mail? I want to speak to Babe Bennett. Yeah. Hello, Miss Bennett? Hold on a minute. Here, take it. Hello? Is that you, Mary? Well, this is Longfellow Deed. Mary, I want you to tell me something. Are you the one who's been writing those articles about me? I see. Don't bother. There's nothing to explain. Goodbye. Was I right or wrong? She said she was going to tell me today. It's too late now. What are you going to do? I'm going home. Home? But what about the estate? You can't just walk off and leave everything like that. What's going to happen? I don't care what happens. I never wanted the money. You can give it away. For all I care, give it to the people that needed it. It never did me any good. Just a lot of trouble and pain. I don't want it. I'm going back home where I belong. Nation Identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. In a few moments, we'll resume Mr. Deeds Goes to Town starring Gary Cooper in the title role and Gene Arthur as the reporter. We hear now from another lady of the press, Faye Gillis. Miss Gillis fell rather than rose to fame. One of the best known ladybirds in America, she became the first woman member of the Caterpillar Club whose ranks are composed solely of those who have saved their lives by parachute jumps from airplanes. When Wiley Post made his record-breaking flight around the world, it was Miss Gillis who met him in Siberia with food and fuel. The place occupied by Will Rogers and his tragic flight with Wiley Post was relinquished to Mr. Rogers at the last moment by Miss Gillis. She is now in Hollywood reporting for the New York Herald Tribune and expects to leave shortly for the Orient. Ladies and gentlemen, Faye Gillis. Thank you, Mr. DeMille. For becoming a member of the Caterpillar Club, Miss Gillis must have been a very exulting experience. On the contrary, it was decidedly a come down. I still think flying is the safest means of transportation and use commercial planes whenever I can. But I've had to give up private flying temporarily because it's too much of a luxury. Which do you consider the most important syllable of luxury? Lux, of course. And I'll never give that up. In fact, I carry it with me wherever I go, though it's hardly necessary anymore for I find it everywhere, from Vladivostok to Paminoca and Java. By the way, here's another use for Lux Flakes, washing leopards. I've had my pet leopard Snooks ever since she was a little bundle of fur caught in the African jungle. And she's with me now in Hollywood. Snooks has the most beautiful coat you ever saw. There's a reason. Since babyhood, she's had a bath twice a month with Lux Flakes and loves it. Trying to put Lux on the spot, huh? Say, you must find Hollywood rather dull after reporting wars, coronations and other exciting events. Why, no. When my feet start itching, I can take a trip around the world by touring the studios. I can visit Tibet on the Columbia lot where Harry Cohen has erected spectacular Shangri-La for Lost Horizon, the magnificent new film directed by Frank Capra, who also directed the screen version of tonight's play, Mr. Deeds. I can visit Naples on the set of Dogsworth, India and Afghanistan, and Shirley Temple's new film, We Willy Winky, Berlin in the Road Back, Westminster Abbey in the Prince Mopoper, Dublin in the Plough and the Stars, and China in the Good Earth. And now, thanks very much, Mr. DeMille. I'll be seeing you at Paramount before long, slinking through the bayous of Louisiana with left feet, a buccaneer. Good night, Lord Southerly. Mr. Deeds goes to town starring Gary Cooper and Jean Arthur with Lionel Stander. Completely disillusioned, long fellow Deeds started giving his money away to needy farmers. But Mr. Cedar, acting for some distant relative of old symbols, immediately entered the charge of insanity. Deeds confined to the county hospital for observation refused to speak or enter any defense. And now on the opening day of the insanity hearing, with a little courtroom jammed, Cedar is just finishing his address to the bench. In the interest of the other living relatives of the late Mark and W. Semple, we cannot permit a fortune so huge to be dissipated by a person who's incompetency and abnormality we shall prove beyond any reasonable doubt. We present our first witness, Your Honor. Ms. Louise Bay Bennett. Ms. Bennett, you're employed by the evening mail. Your Honor, this is ridiculous. You will please answer the question. The whole hearing's ridiculous. That man's no more insane than you are. They're trying to railroad this man so the money they can get out of it. Your Honor. Man, ladies, another outburst like this and I shall hold you in contempt. Proceed. Are you employed by the evening mail? No. I resigned last week. Prior to that time were you employed by the evening mail? Yes. Were you given an assignment to follow the activities of Mr. Longfellow Beads? Yes. Did you subsequently write a series of articles about him? Yes. Are these the articles? Yes. You were present when all these things took place? Yes. Are they true? No. But they did take place. They're colored just to make him look silly. But you saw them happen. Yes, but I... That's all. It isn't all. I'd like to explain... That's all, Ms. Bennett. Your Honor, what kind of a hearing is this? What are you trying to do? Persecute the man? He's not defending himself. Somebody's got to do it. Ms. Bennett, please. I'm only to listen to anything that anyone has to say. But I insist to be done in an orderly fashion. When you learn to show some respect for the court, you can return. Until then, you'd better go back to your seat and calm down. Mr. Deeds, do you wish to say anything in defense of these articles? Oh, very well. Go on, Mr. Cedar. Our next witnesses will testify together, Your Honor. Take the stand, please. Yes, sir. What's your name? Jane Forfner. This is my sister, Amy. Yes, Amy. I'll direct all my questions to you, Ms. Jane. You can answer for both. Do you know the defendant, Longfellow Deeds? Oh, yes. Yes, of course we know him. How long have you known him? Since he was born. Yes, he was a seven-months baby. That's fine. Thank you. Do you see him very often? Most every day, sometimes twice. Must we have the echo? Suppose you just answer, Ms. Jane. Now tell me, what does everybody back home think of Longfellow Deeds? I think he's pixelated. Oh, yes, pixelated. He's what? What did you say he was? Pixelated. Perhaps I can explain, Your Honor. The word pixelated is an early American expression, derived from the word pixies, meaning elves. They would say the pixies have got him, as we nowadays would say a man as barmy. Is that correct, Ms. Jane? Why does everyone think he's pixelated? Does he do peculiar things? He walks in the rain without his hat and talks to himself. Well, sometimes he whistles and sings. He always runs in the house when we see him coming. He sure is pixelated. Oh, yes, he's pixelated all right. Thank you, ladies. Thank you. That'll be all. You see, Your Honor, the man's actions speak for themselves. I have one more witness who might like to present at this point, Dr. Emil Frazer, the eminent Austrian psychiatrist. Dr. Frazer, will you give us your opinion, please, in simple terminology if possible? Certainly. It is my opinion that Longfellow Deeds is a manic depressive. In cases of this kind, patients sometimes go on for years before they are detected. Why is that, Dr. Frazer? That is because their moods change so quickly and so often. First, they are extremely depressed, melancholy. Then the mood changes again in the other direction until they reach a state of high exaltation. Here, everything is fine. Here, the world is beautiful. How would you say, Dr. Frazer, that this applies to Mr. Deeds? The symptoms are obvious. Then he is on top of the wave. He plays his tuba, writes his childish poems, chases fire engines in his desire to help humanity. This is contrasted with his present mood, which is so low that even the instinct for self-preservation is lacking. Another significant point was his desire to give away every bit of his fortune. Oh yes, there's no doubt. He is an obvious case of manic depressive. Thank you, Dr. Frazer. Thank you. That is all your honor. Deeds, you're not going to let him get away with this, are you? At least let me ask for a postponement. Cedar will settle out a quart for two million. He told me that. Mr. Deeds, before I arrive at the decision, isn't there anything you want to say? Come on, don't be a sucker. Very well, if you won't speak. Mr. Deeds, in view of the testimony, I think it advisable for your own safety that you be sent to a state hospital. You need medical attention, Mr. Deeds. Perhaps in a little while. No, please, you've got to make him talk. Let me try. Darling, darling, please, I know everything I've done. I know how horrible I've been. If you'll never see me again, no matter what happens, do this for me. Miss Bennet, please. You said I could speak. You said I could have my say if I'm irrational. I'm rational. I'll take the witness chair. Don't honor what she's saying. Have no bearing on the case. Let her speak. I know why he won't defend himself. That is a bearing on the case, hasn't it? He's been hurt. He's been hurt by everybody he's met since he came here. Principally by me. He's been the victim of every conniving crook in town. The newspapers pounced on him, made him a target for their feeble humor. I was smarter than the rest of them. I got closer to him so I could laugh louder. Why shouldn't he keep quiet every time he said anything was twisted around and sound imacillic? He can thank me for it. You're all my business preposterous. Certainly I wrote those articles, but I stopped writing them when I found out what he was all about. When I realized how real he was, when I found out he could never fit in with our distorted viewpoint, because his was honest and sincere and good. If that man's crazy, Your Honor, the rest of us belong in straight jackets. This is a pleasure, Your Honor. The woman is obviously in love with him. What's that got to do with it? What do I love with him? Aren't you? Yes! Fire, please. In the interest of a defendant, I've tolerated a great deal of informality. If there's one more out first, I shall have the courtroom cleared. Your Honor, I'd like to put in my two cents. I've known this man live. Sit down. Your Honor. Yes, Mr. Deeds? I'd like to put in my two cents worth. Go ahead, Mr. Deeds. Well, I don't know where to begin. There have been so many things said about me. Of course, Mr. Cedar has a right to think I'm loony. I once considered paying him $100,000 a year for his services. How about my playing the tuba? Seems like a lot of fuss has been made about that. If a man's crazy just because he plays the tuba, somebody better look into it because there are a lot of tuba players running around loose. Of course, I don't see any harm in it. I play mine whenever I want to concentrate. That may sound funny to some people, but most everybody does something silly when they're thinking. For instance, the judge here is an old filler. A what? An old filler. You fill in all the spaces in the oars with your pencil. I was watching you. Proceed, Mr. Deeds. Yes, sir. Well, that may make you look a little crazy, Your Honor, just sitting around and filling in oars, but I don't see anything wrong because that helps you think. Other people are doodlers. Doodlers? Well, that's a name we made up back home for the people who make foolish designs on paper when they're thinking. It's called doodling. Almost everybody's a doodler. Did you ever see a scratch pad and a telephone booth? People draw the most idiotic pictures when they're thinking. Dr. Fraser here could probably think up a long name for it because he doodles all the time. I picked up this paper he was scribbling on. I can't figure out what it is. One minute it looks like a chimpanzee and the next it looks like a picture of Mr. Cedar. Quiet, please, quiet. Looks kind of stupid, doesn't it, Judge? But I guess it's all right if Dr. Fraser has to doodle to help him think that's his business. Everybody does something different. Some people are ear pullers. Some are nail biters. Mr. Cedar is a nose twitcher. See him? So you see, Your Honor, everybody does funny things to help them think. Well, I play the tuba. Your honor, this is becoming possible. I suggest Mr. Cedar spends with his side remarks. Let him stick to facts. Quiet, please. Go on, Mr. Cedar. Now about the folk in there, Sister. That's funny. I mean, about Mr. Cedar going all the way to Mandrake Falls to bring them here. Would you mind if I talk to them? Not at all. Jane, who owns the house you live in? Why, you do long, fella. Yes, you own it. Do you pay any rent? No, we don't pay any rent. Which haven't you known? We never pay rent. Are you happy there? Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Now, a little while ago, you said I was pixelated. You still think so? Oh, yes. You've always been pixelated, long, fella. Always. No, that's fine. I guess maybe I am. Now, now tell me something, Jane. Who else in Mandrake Falls is pixelated? Come on. Who else in Mandrake Falls is pixelated? Why, everybody in Mandrake Falls is pixelated. Except us. All except us. There's just one more question. Do you see the judge here? He's a nice man, isn't he? Mm-hmm. Do you think he's pixelated? Oh, yes. Yes, indeed he is. Well, that's all, ladies. You haven't touched on the most important thing, Mr. Deeds. It's a rather fantastic plan of yours to want to give away your entire fortune is, to say the least, most uncommon. Well, I was getting to that, Your Honor. Of course, I don't know why all this hella balloon has been raised about my giving the money away. The plain fact is I don't want it. I never earned it, and so far it's brought me nothing, but it's hard luck. Now, my idea was very simple. I was going to give each farmer who needed help 10 acres of land, a horse, a cow, and some seed. And if they worked the farm for three years, it's theirs. Now, if that's crazy, maybe I ought to be sent to an institution, but I don't think it is, and what's more, Mr. Cedar doesn't either. Right before the hearing started, he offered to call the whole thing off if I made a settlement with him for $2 million, so you see, he wouldn't think I was crazy if he got paid off. It's a lie. Deeds is drawing on his walked imagination. You, please, permit Mr. Deeds to finish? Anything else, Mr. Deeds? No, yes. There's one thing more I'd like to get off my chest to finish. Go ahead, Mr. Deeds. Thank you. Mr. Cedar, I've tried to teach a few people some manners here lately. You're next. Don't sack him, Deeds! Don't! Mr. Deeds, the court has come to a decision. There's been a great deal of damaging testimony against you. Your behavior, to say the least, has been most strange. But in my opinion, you are not only sane, but you are the sanest man the devil walked into this courtroom. Thank you. Thank you. Best of luck. Gosh, thank you. That's swell. Wait a minute. Where's Mary? Hey, Mary! Mary! I've got a hiss here. No, no, please let me go. Mary! You don't want to speak to me. Yes, I do. I can leave now, Mary. Look, the judge said so, and I'd like you to come with me. Back to Mandrake Falls. Mandrake Falls. Will you marry? Mandrake Falls. Don't get hysterical, kid. It ain't as bad as that. It's a beautiful place. I know it is. And I'd love it. Oh, gosh, Mary. Well, I guess that settled. I'll get the tickets and pack up your things, Dee. Gosh, you're wonderful, Mary. I said I'll get the tickets and pack up your things, Dee. Huh? Oh, oh, thanks. And, and Cobb. Yeah? Don't forget my tuba, will you? Mr. Beads has gone to town, but there'll be a word or two a little later from Gary Cooper and Jean Arthur. We in Hollywood respect Sidney Skolsky for a wetter sharp as his pencil, for his persistence in turning up news and turning down the merely sensational, and for his willingness to hold back a story of printing it would hold back someone's career. Sid and I have flung many a scorching syllable at each other, but this Broadway bantam who keeps his finger on the Hollywood pulse for the New York Daily News is always ahead of the headlines. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Skolsky goes to town. Well, DeMille, here I am again. I watched you work the last time you were here, and I'd like to ask you a question. What is a columnist? That's a little difficult. Columns are born, not made. You're the perfect size for a columnist. You're just tall enough to reach the keyhole. I like that line even when I used it. You columnists know everything, don't you? I know enough to know that while peeping through keyholes I have observed the Wardrobe departments and all leading Hollywood studios using lux flakes to wash the silk stockings of the movie actresses. Very nice, Skolsky. If you'll answer my question, what is a columnist? I'll let you get on with your specialty. All right. A columnist is the only person who is minding his own business when he is minding your business. Good enough, Mr. Skolsky. Now go to town. I hope I don't have any detours. Hollywood is a place where Carol Lombard doesn't close her dressing room door. We're minorloy while waiting on the set to play a sophisticated lady, Nitz. It's a town where a producer advised to take a trip around the world, said, No, there are plenty of other places I'd rather see first. It's a town where a sign on the road to Gene Hollow's house reads, Danger, Curves Ahead. Where Hoppo Marx declared that he wanted to keep his marriage a secret until after the divorce. But don't get me wrong, I love Hollywood. Hollywood is a place where the billboards read, Garbo loves Taylor. But Greta would like you to know that they should read, Taylor loves Garbo. It's a town where Grace Moore stands in an evening gown and cooks, where a person whispering a secret says, I'll tell you this if you promise to let it go further. Where Simone Simone likes the gags about her name and gave her boyfriend, John Swope, a watch inscribed to Swope Swope. Where James K. McGinnis when invited to dinner by an actor he didn't like, answered, I'd like to go, but I have a previous engagement which I will arrange as soon as possible. But don't get me wrong, I love Hollywood. Hollywood is a place where Ginger Rogers, after dancing all day with Fred Astaire, goes dancing at the Trocadero with James Stewart for fun. It's a town where Jack McGowan sits on a permanent New York street at Metro and wishes he were in California. It's a town where Joseph von Sternberg presses a button in his house and creates the effect of rain beating on the roof. Where a Hollywood biggie complained to his wife saying, I work for you, I slave for you, and what do I get? Nothing but thanks, thanks, thanks. But don't get me wrong, I love Hollywood. Hollywood is a place where John Crawford always has a favorite dish for every guest at dinner, where William Powell, the thin man, hates detective stories. It's a town where a bank on Hollywood Boulevard advertised picture night and gave away a seven-readle film with every deposit. It's a town where Billy Rose on his way to stage the Texas Centennial declared, boys, I'm going to make Texas the biggest state in the Union. Where Ernst Lubitz said to a group of writers, now what this scenario needs is a scene with a typical Lubitz touch. Got any suggestions? But don't get me wrong, I love Hollywood. Hollywood is a place where Mary asked a sat-in-the-brown derby gaping at a tourist. Where the Earl of Warwick was suggested for the role of an Earl in Parnell, but was turned down because he wasn't the type. It's a town where you can wear a Palm Beach suit with woolen underwear. Where Robert Taylor's landlady reduced his rent because she wanted Robert Taylor in the house. Where Groucho Marx on meeting an actress said, I never forget a face, but I'm going to make an exception in your case. But don't get me wrong, I love Hollywood. Thanks, good night. Good night, Mr. Stoutke. Once more, our stars. Ladies and gentlemen, Gary Cooper and Gene Arthur. It's slow time. Not at all, Gary, the pleasure's been mine. In case you don't know what you're talking in, Ron. Maybe that's just what this interview needs. It must be the spirit of long fellow deeds. Excuse me for breaking the meter, Mr. DeMille, but this program doesn't need a thing, not even that elegant poetry. As one of your most loyal Monday nighters, I think the Lux Radio Theatre is one of the finest contributions that's ever come from Hollywood. Mr. DeMille, this is the first time the three of us have been together since we made the Plainsman. The fade out on the Plainsman. What have you been doing? Well, I'm preparing to film The Buccaneer, the story of Jean Lafitte. How about playing that pirate for me, Gary, if you're free? Well, there's nothing I'd like better. I've been getting my sea legs now, playing in souls at sea, I see Mr. Rueck approaching, so it must be time for me to get along. Thanks for this opportunity to appear again on what I think is the air's number one program. Good night. Good night, Mr. DeMille. Good night, Lafitte. Good night, calamity, Jane. Ladies and gentlemen, this is your announcer, Melville Rue. Before Mr. DeMille tells us of next week's play and stars, may I say that Mr. Cooper and Mr. DeMille appeared through courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Mr. Standard, Columbia Pictures, and Mr. Silver's 20th Century Fox, where he was in charge of music for the new film On the Avenue. And now, Mr. DeMille. Next Monday night, the Lux Radio Theatre brings you a story of love behind a throne, a story that starts in New York through the chance meeting of a young American with a strange and beautiful girl, then crosses the Atlantic to a tottering kingdom torn with revolt. Graustach, a tense drama of romance and royalty, starring Jean Raymond and Anna Sten with James Gleason. Sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theatre brings you Jean Raymond and Anna Sten in Graustach with James Gleason. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. I'm Jeffrey Lyons. I hope you enjoyed AMC's Lux Radio Theatre presentation of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, starring Gary Cooper, Jean Arthur, and Lionel Standard, originally broadcast over CBS Radio February 1, 1937. This radio play was based on the film version produced in 1936 by Columbia Pictures. Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, directed by Frank Capra, is the screwball romantic comedy. It's about a do-gooder, long-fellow Deeds, and the problems he encounters when he inherits $20 million. Desiring to give some of his inheritance and to create a charity, Deeds encounters cynical, heartless people along the way, eventually winning over a hardened newspaper reporter, BB Bennett, portrayed by Jean Arthur. Now, the film received five major Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, Best Actor for Gary Cooper, Best Screenplay for Robert Riskin, Best Sound Recording, and Best Director for Frank Capra. Capra, in fact, won his second Oscar for Deeds following his initial victory for It Happened One Night in 1934. Ultimately, he would win three Academy Awards for Direction. The film helped make co-star Jean Arthur a prominent leading lady for the rest of the decade and into the 1940s.