 And now another proudly we hail one of radio's outstanding dramatic half hours starring Lee Tracy and presented transcribed by your army and your Air Force. From Radio City, New York, here is your star and host on proudly we hail the distinguished Broadway stage screen and radio star Lee Tracy. Thank you, Kenneth Banghart and hello, everyone. Welcome again to proudly we hail. I'm really in my element for our story today. What do you mean by that, Lee? Well, this is really a story of good old fashioned show business. Ken, a story about what we call in show business, an old carny hand. A real carnival drifting. Sounds like a real story. I'm sure our audience will enjoy it, Ken. We'll begin in just a moment after your important message. My important message, Lee, is that the United States Army needs volunteers now. Young men and women are wanted for all types of jobs. So help keep America strong by enlisting for active duty right away. Get all the details at your nearest army and Air Force recruiting station today. And now, Lee, how about that story? What's it called? The Magnificent Parker, Ken. The Magnificent Parker. With our star, Lee Tracy, in the title role, your army and your Air Force present the proudly we hail production of the Magnificent Parker. One and all, may I have your indulgence for just a moment. I take pleasure in presenting for your combined amusement and edification, the one and only, the Magnificent Parker, a medalist extraordinary, a mind reader and purveyor of fun, magic and mystery. And now I stand before you, ready to reveal the secrets which lodge in the dark recesses of the sub-conscious. And the cost, ha-ha! Our friends, the compensation is slight for I desire neither the age, the vintage of our modernized sellers of Paris friends, nor do I crave the nectar of the Benedictine monks or no friends. A simple, a small, a cold, an insignificant, a ten cent beer will suffice a bee utipally. Beated, Harry, nobody's interested. Ha-ha! The secret powers of the Sir Baloo are entrusted to only a chosen few, my friends. But, oh, there, there in the corner booth, I see a young man he sits alone. Dissatisfied, dejected, I see a world of, of print, of ink and full-scap revolving about his head, a halo-like. Ah, of course, he's a newspaper man, a man who's given everything to his employers and his craft, and who has now been cast aside alike a rubbish, unadjusted. Am I right, my friend? Yeah, you're right. Ha-ha! Draw one, if you please, innkeeper. That right, nothing? Yeah, bring him a beer. How did you know I was a newspaper man and that I was canned? My friend, every person in the world carries the imprint of his profession externally. A practice eye plus a bit of luck is all that it takes. Now, your Alpha Delta signet ring told me you were a journalist and the empty glasses set up before you told me you'd either been fired or your woman had taken a powder. Now, being that you don't strike me as the type of guy to be bowled over by a dame, I took a stab at the former and luckily I was all right. Well, that's simple enough. You make it sound easy. A guy with your nimble mind, how did you ever end up like this? Ha-ha! You ask. You ask. And a well you may. But the answer would necessitate the telling of my life story and that would take time, precious time. That's something I have plenty of. Unload. Very well, Al. It's your party. I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Magnificent Parkers. No, I don't suppose. We were a mental effect. Nothing shoddy like carnies. We played the big time. We were tops in the line. We did nothing but portable and private engagements. Dory was, my wife was my partner. Believe me, we were a sensation. Our life was good to us in those days. The act was a hit. We had money coming in and we loved each other. There was just one thing we lacked. And then, one day, even that prayer was answered. I'll never forget how I rushed to the hospital from that long, lonely wait in the corridor. Well, Dr. Harris will see you in his office. Yeah, is Dory all right? Dr. Harris will see you, Mr. Parker. How's my wife, Dr. Now? Well, when can I see her? Mr. Parker, your wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. But, Dory, can I go to her now? I'm afraid, Mr. Parker, that you can't. Oh, no, no. Dory was gone. And I blamed the kid for it. I drew all the savings we had out of the bank and I carried my daughter straight from the hospital to an orphan's home up in the country. I'll never forget that train trip with the baby bundled up in my arms and the hood pulled down over her face. I didn't dare to lift up the hood and take a peek at that face. I guess I was afraid I'd see Dory there, staring up at you. Or, well, or something. I brought her into the reception room of the orphan home. The hall was deserted. Somewhere off, I could hear the melancholy of the strange of an organ. I placed her on the table and pinned the envelope with the name Catherine. That was Dory's middle name, containing the cash on her bunting and quietly slipped out. Eight years melted away like ice and a furnace. So that's the day. Just the beginning, pal. Just the beginning. A couple more over here, Mac. Well, I found myself a head talker in a cheap tent show down south. Nickelnurcer, by the name of O'Hara, ran the show. He was only one step ahead of the law and two behind his creditors. Mostly the pack of us worked strictly for laughs. I left the medallist routine back with Dory and I wouldn't have anything to do with it. I made myself content with my life as a grifter. But I never could quite forget that little bundle I'd left in the orphan's home. I started feeling something in the back of my mind, a plan that maybe the kid and I could be reunited and I could do something big for her. It was these kind of dreams I was having. The night it all began. Yeah. The beginning of the end for me. Papa, hurry over. Now everything is free, everything you see. Now gather in a little close again and keep that midway clear. Now first I'm gonna call to your attention the amazing, fantastic, exotic attractions are now due to start within the confines of the five in one tent directly or behind me. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Go away, Billy, go away. Well, you're not doing my pitch. Somebody here is here, Harry. He's an old geezer dressed to kill. Must be worth a million bucks. What's he want with me? I don't know. Better go find out. He's written outside your car. Okay, Billy, here, here. Take, take over. Well, that's your thing. Hurry, hurry, hurry, ladies and gentlemen. The science finders wouldn't show in the time. As I approached my flop, I saw the guy standing outside my door. Billy was right. The old boy was town and country. The McCoy. Am I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Harry Barker? Yes, that's me. I wonder if there's any place where we might talk undisturbed. Why, sure. Won't you step into my library? He was a heavy, small man in his early 60s. Self-assured, perfectly poised. Sat down on the edge of my cot, remained silent. Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Now? Bolton, Henry Bolton. Oh, well, I'm pleased to meet you, I'm sure. There are people with special mind-reading powers. And you, Barker, are one of those people. Well, now, perhaps, perhaps you're right. I know I'm right. I've spent a great deal of money tracing you down to this backwater, and I'm prepared to spend a good deal more to secure your services. Now, how much do you figure is a good deal more? I'm ready, Mr. Barker, to pay you $20,000 for five minutes of your great gift. $20,000? Well, yeah, well, now, what am I expected to do? You ought to read a mind for me. Read a mind? Oh, no! You find my proposition amusing? Look here, Bolton, what if I were to tell you that it was all a gag? I have no special gifts, but it's all a routine, a hype. I repeat, Mr. Barker, I've spent a great deal of money to find you because I believe you are the only man who can help me. I suppose I should have given him the all-heave hold. There were a couple of roustabouts around, it would have been simple. But I kept thinking of that $20,000. With a wad like that in the old sock, my little girl and I could really get together. Well, it's all in the past. Nothing I can do about it now. Anyway, two hours later found me and Bolton winging our way to the city lights. And me, with my mouth open, listening to one of the craziest deals I'd ever heard. V. Tracy, starring as Harry in the proudly-we-hailed production of the Magnificent Barker, will return for the second act in just a moment. But first here's a special message for Army veterans. Your past experience and know-how are vitally important to the Army today. The vital mission to keep America safe and build its defense forces, makes your contribution to its manpower needs doubly important. Yes, there's a great need for you and a great many critical military specialties. So why not help yourself and your country by offering your services now? Take advantage of the chance to brush up on your own special skill and learn the most modern techniques at top Army schools at a time when you're needed most. Your nearest Army and Air Force Recruiting Station will give you all the information. So veterans, stop in today and say, I want to rejoin the United States Army. You are listening to proudly-we-hailed. And now with your star, Lee Tracy, we present the second act of the Magnificent Barker. Well, I'll tell you. I'll tell you something about people, Al. The smarter they get, the dumber they get. Now, you take this guy, Bolton. Here's an intelligent man with every benefit that culture, education, and experience can give him. Going for this mentalist business, hook, line, and sinker. This guy really believed. I possessed strange and wonderful powers. Anyway, I found myself on that airplane, heading for New York, listening wide-eyed to this guy's pitch. I'll give you this picture briefly. Gerald Reisling, the multimillionaire, was killed in an automobile accident some years ago. He had made a bad marriage and was legally separated soon after his daughter, Cynthia, was born. He was granted custody of the child, and upon his death, it was discovered that he had left his entire estate, valued at some seven million to Cynthia, in a trust fund. Having been Gerald's friend of longstanding, I was appointed executor of the estate and guardian of the child. At Gerald's death, Cynthia was approximately two years of age. Immediately after the funeral, Cynthia Reisling was kidnapped from a crib. Kidnapped? Yes, and Mildred vanished too at the same time. Now, there's never been any doubt in my mind, or the police, for that matter, that Mildred had kidnapped her daughter. No expense was spared trying to trace them down, but they were never found. And? And at last it has paid off to a degree. You mean you've located them? Not them, Mr. Parker, her. We've located Mildred. But, well, where's the child? I don't know. Yes, that is where you come in. Me? Yes, detectives have placed Mildred to a charity ward of a New York hospital. She's dying. She can either speak nor hear. And you expect me to? Exactly, Mr. Parker. There is no doubt that she knows where the child is. You will read her mind and secure the address. I won't be able to see her immediately. By that, well, I'm not attuned to this latitude. I'll need a few hours of complete solitude away from the subject to get myself mentally acclimated. Very well, Parker. I'll drop you off at my hotel. Well, I don't suppose I could have a little advance. Certainly. Here's $1,000. I pocketed the grand gratefully. I needed that dough to buy a few things. When we got to the hotel, Bolton accompanied me to the desk clerk and gave him authority to let me use his key. He left then for the hospital and told me he'd send the rolls back in two hours. I hurried up to his apartment. It was a gorgeous duplex layout. I quickly got on the phone and had him send up a bellhop. You sent for me, sir? Yeah, here's $100. I take this pencil and paper and write down what I say. I want you to get me a surgical gown and cap, a stethoscope, a pad of four by five paper, and a crayon pencil. You got it? The boy was back in less than an hour, and I spent the rest of the time concealing the equipment on my body. When I finally put on my coat, stepped out of the hotel and into the rolls, I felt a bit heavier, but not enough to be noticed. We sped to the hospital. When we got there, I found Bolton in the lobby. Well, Parker, are you ready? One moment. I must be with this woman alone. Only alone can I explore the innermost regions of her subconscious and conscious. Only hurry. There's not much time. She's very low. A nurse took me to Mildred's room and left me at the door. I closed the door quietly and removed my coat. Silently, I put on the surgical gown and cap and hung the stethoscope around my neck. I saw an aged, lined, weary face, with eyes staring miserably at nothing. Mildred looked about 20 years older than she actually was. And seeing her there, somehow I was reminded of Dory. I approached her tenderly and took her wrist in my hand, felt for her pulse. Then I took out the pad of paper and with the crayon pencil wrote in bold letters, can you hear me? Blink your eyes once for yes and twice for no. I held the message in front of her eyes and she blinked twice. No. So far, so good. I'd read this high communication business in some book and figured maybe it would work OK. I didn't quite know how to phrase the next question. It was the payoff. So I threw caution to the winds and wrote, are you worried about your daughter? Her eyes opened wide. She stared at me with such intensity that I felt naked and ashamed. And then she blinked her eyes twice. No. My next message read, don't worry, Mildred. Cynthia is in heaven now. And through the tears, her eyes became tranquil with peace and happiness as she blinked once. Yes. So the child was dead. The child was dead and I was the only one who knew that. Cynthia was dead and for the first time a picture presented herself before my eyes. A picture of a little girl about the same age as Cynthia would be coming into seven million bucks. My little girl. It sounded too easy to work, but somehow I knew it at work. I knew it could be done. The biggest gypsy switch in carnival history. A present for me and my daughter to make up for all that I'd ever done to her. As I sat there thinking, I turned suddenly to Mildred and saw that her eyes were closed. I felt her hand. She was dead. Hurriedly I ducked my equipment behind the radiator left through. Could you get to her before she died? At first, there was a field with mountains in the distance and then I saw a house. A large house, a mansion with many children playing near a brook that ran alongside the mansion. And there were the attendants playing with the children and I realized that this was an orphan's home. That's it. She did an orphan's home. And then I saw a woman standing behind a large oak tree hidden there and gazing at the children, but at one, in particular, the woman was Mildred. A younger Mildred, single-out, with a beautiful, dark-haired, blue-eyed girl called Catherine. Dark hair, blue eyes, Catherine. That seems to check. But where is this orphan's home? Wait. Many years ago, Mildred had placed the child there anonymously that child grew up never knowing her father or her mother. Yes, yes, but where is this place? I saw a bus passing the highway that skirts the mansion and it signed, carried a legend that said, Utica, New York, an orphan's home, dear Utica. I'll find it. I'll find it. And I'll find my Catherine. Did he find her? Did she get the $7 million? Yep, Bolton found her. He simply claimed Catherine and left with her immediately on an extended cruise to South America. Oh, what are you so depressed about? He gave you the $20,000, didn't he? You fixed up your child for life, so why the skid? Yeah, I sure fixed her up. But good. You haven't heard the ending yet. Everything was swell. The switch had worked perfectly. I was all set again. I was figuring out ways to invest my capital and all of a sudden, two months later, my world dropped right out from under me. It was on page three of the Times, a small article with all the people that had probably passed right by. It told of a storm in the Caribbean and a ship in distress. The ship had weathered the storm and had made port safely with the loss of only one passenger, a little girl named Cynthia Reisling, my Catherine. Took me about three days to get over the shock. I headed straight for police headquarters, and I got to speak to the chief inspector himself. Your story is incredible, Parker. I tell you, he killed her. He killed her for the money. Adds up from every angle. Check on the world. See if the money doesn't go to him on her death. Can't you see he was desperate? He took her without checking facts. Since when does a person give another person seven million bucks without checking facts? No, I'm sorry. Bring me some proof. Proof, some ant says. OK, I'll give you proof. I'll hand you his rotten carcass on a silver platter. That's a tough break. Did you ever get anything on him? No. It was my 20 grand against his millions. I used up the dough and no time hiring detectives and lawyers, but it was no good. And that, sir, is the started story of my life. Wow. And now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going. It's been a pleasure, Al. Hey, wait a minute. Here's a little something you might find some use for. What? A fin. Bless you, Al. Do you want anything more? No. That's Guy Parker. Him? What about him? I thought I had it bad, but after listening to his story by comparison, I'm rolling in clover. My story was that, Mac. One about how he got caught by headhunters in the lower Zambezi and spent 10 years taking him in the shell game with shrunken skulls. Nothing like that, buddy. Oh, I must have been one of the tear-jerkers then. Maybe the one about the mental attack with his wife and how she died and left the kid and got picked up with some crack-pot. Hey, wait a minute, hold on. You mean it wasn't true? You kidding? He's lived around here all his life. For your information, Fran, you've been spending the time of day and your dough on Harry the Talker, the smoothest shovel artist this side of the Mississippi. Well, I'll be. Ha-ha-ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha. You made quite a magnificent Parker. Well, Ken, with all of his shenanigans, Parker was quite a boy. I really enjoyed playing the role. Thank you again, Lee, for a wonderful performance. Mr. Tracy, we'll be back to tell you about next week's show in just a moment. But first, I have a few short words to say to the young men and women of America, both to veterans and to those without any military service. You can learn new skills and get the best in technical training while you wear the uniform of the United States Army. There are real openings for ex-servicemen and women, as well as for all the young citizens of this nation. You can help both your country and yourselves. Many of your friends have probably enlisted already. So why not join their ranks in one of the finest of all professions, that of the American soldier? You can get all the information at your nearest Army and Air Force Recruiting Station. Join the Army today. Volunteer for an Army career. This has been another program on proudly we hail, presented in cooperation with this station by your Army and your Air Force. Proudly we hail Stars Lee Tracy. Supporting Mr. Tracy and the cast were Joe DeSantis, George Clark, Joe Ripley, Jack Jason, and Helen Christian. The Magnificent Parker was written by Frank DePolito. The music was composed and conducted by John Guaneri. Proudly we hail is directed by Charles Wilk. This is Kenneth Banghart speaking, and here again is your host and star, Lee Tracy. We hope you'll be with us next week for another proudly we hail presentation. We have a program entitled This Could Be Murdered, and it's an out of the ordinary suspense story. Goodbye.