 presents Jane Wyatt, Stephen Dunn, and Betty Lynn. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theater presents In the Nature of a Warning, starring Jane Wyatt and Stephen Dunn. And now, here is your hostess, Betty Lynn. Thank you, Tony Lafranco. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now, to our transcribed drama, In the Nature of a Warning, starring Jane Wyatt as Elsa and Stephen Dunn as Jim. If you're a young lady, single, in between the ages of seven and 95, with a reasonable disposition, interested in security, and can qualify for someone else, take a word of advice from me. Don't. I repeat, don't marry a writer. Oh, I don't mean a newspaper reporter or an article writer. Those are almost people. I'm talking about fiction writers. Fiction writers are simply too much for nice young ladies between seven and 95 to have to put up with. At least those who want a little security in life. You see, for the most part, they are pixelated. That means possessed of or influenced by pixies or in a word, crazy. I know. You see, I married one. Oh, I wouldn't trade him in for a million dollars now that we've almost got each other trained. I just thought some of you might like to be warned. So if you happen to date a fiction writer a few times and one evening when he walks you to the door, he has a try at that good night kiss. Well, hit him with your pocketbook. If he takes you home some Sunday afternoon to meet his dear old gray-haired mother, wear a slinky, brass, lame gown, cheap perfume, and too much makeup. And if you fall for the guy anyway, and he gets you alone in some moonlit garden and pops the question, push him in the fish pond, throw the birdbath at him, and run for your life. If he runs after you, sell everything you've got and leave town. You won't have to move to Bette or Auckland. If you only get 50 miles out of town, you'll be safe. Because if he's a true fiction writer, he won't be able to afford to follow you, even if all it involves is streetcar fare. Now, I don't think you're being quite honest about all this. This is the boy. Don't say this is the boy as if I were exhibit A in a murder trial. After all, I'm a fine fellow, a very nice person to know, lots of charm, poise. And then too, my dear Elsa, I have something that no other man in the world has got. Something rare and wonderful. And what might that be? The most glamorous, the most inspiring, the most wonderful life in the world. Oh, Jim, that's what I mean. No, no, that's not what I mean. In fact, well, that's part of it. He turns my emotions on and off like a faucet. I may be so mad at him I can't see straight one minute and walking on clouds next. And I know he doesn't mean to. It's just the way he is. It's not always like that, though. When he's working hard on a story, he usually gets in the mood of it. This is delightful when he's doing a love story. But it's not so pretty good when he's writing a mystery, unless maybe you like having the John Dillinger or the hard-faced private eye type around the house. Worst of all, though, is when he hasn't got a plot to work on. Take the other morning, for instance. Time to get up, dear one. I've got your coffee. Oh, darling. Jim. Jim, are you awake? He was not happy at being awakened. But he got up. That is, after about 10 minutes, he managed to get as far as the edge of the bed and lifted a head that had the hair on sideways and hot-crossed buns with black icing for eyes. Oh, what's the matter? How's the fire, is it? I've got some coffee for you. I said I've got some coffee for you. You woke me up in the middle of the night to give me a cup of coffee? It's not the middle of the night. It's morning. Morning is for the birds. Oh, maybe it'll help if you drink your coffee. Coffee with coffee. Right here on the bed table. The coffee I brought you, Jim. Oh, OK. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just the way I am when I get up, that's all. Maybe you ought to see a doctor. Nelson, that idea that just seemed to come to me under the thin air. Turns out a fellow named John Steinbeck wrote the same story nearly 15 years ago. Jim. Hmm? Why don't you do our story? Our story? How are we mad? And, well, you know. Well, I don't know, honey. It might be quite a deal. Don't you think you've got the brain power? Brain power? Great, Scott. One when I could do it with my basal ganglia tied behind my back. Then? Well, nobody believe it for one thing. Oh, pardon me. I thought I'd married a fiction writer. You know, the kind who could make almost any kind of implausible situation implausible. Well, it wouldn't be a real plot, more like a series of sketches. I was only thinking of the happy ending. Happy ending? We meet the house payment, and our dear, sweet, 14-month-old son continues to eat, drink, and be married. My goodness, is that son of ours 14 months old already? Seems like just yesterday was a baby. Jim, you're evading the issue. Honey, don't you think it's kind of sacred? No. No? No. Got any other excuses? I'll start the first thing this evening. Why not after breakfast? You know, the sooner you do the job, the sooner you get the money. Yes, I know. I think I'd like to do this one in the first person, from your viewpoint. From my viewpoint? Noveli, you know. How lucky I was to marry a writer and all that. Take your shower. I'll give you some ideas about my point of view over breakfast. We talked about how everything had happened over breakfast, and that's the way the story got started and why it's taking the shape it is. Being kind of a warning against fiction writers, addressed to all security-seeking unmarried females. Now, let me see, is there anything else you should know before we get to the meat of the story? Oh, oh, yes. Fiction writers have been known to steal things, like the title, for instance. Jim swiped it word for word from a cigarette ad in a magazine that writers are not always truthful, might be born out in what follows, which is subtitled First Meeting with Mr. Fixer, or The Unnatural Perils of Air Travel. I first noticed Jim when he got on the plane. I don't know why, since I don't remember thinking of him as being particularly good-looking, but I was kind of pleased when he took the back seat. After the plane was loaded, I checked all the passenger seat belts and then sat next to Jim and fastened my own. Hope you don't mind my company. My pleasure. We'll be taking off in just a few seconds. Would you like me to put your briefcase away for you? Well, it's a sample case. That's very kind of you, Miss, but I'd better hold on to it. You might jar it, but thanks anyway. Hmm, sample case. You're a salesman. That's right. Desert State's explosive company makes us of the most powerful commercial explosives known to man. Oh, how interesting. Pardon me, but did you say that was a sample case? He just smiled and nodded his head. He may have said something during the takeoff, but if he did, I didn't hear it. I just stared at that sample case, thoroughly convinced that each new bumper plane's wheels passed over would be the last thing I ever feel. Then, after we were airborne, he flipped open the sample case and took a package of cigarettes among some clean socks. What's the matter, Miss? Can I smoke yet? I mean the little no-smoking sign. Socks. Pardon me? Socks! You've got socks in that case. That's right. But you said you were an explosive salesman. You said that was a sample case. Well, it was a sample case at one time. Well, I think you're... Never mind. Well, go on and say it. I won't report you. I think you're terrible. That was a horrible, dirty trick. Well, now I never said there were explosives. I said just hold it, Miss. You might jar it. Well, maybe just a little dirty. I'll bet you don't work for any bomb company either. I'm afraid you're right again. I really can't tell you how sorry I am. Yeah. Did you ever read Tom Sawyer? I can't see what that's got to do with it. Remember how Tom tried to impress... Who was it? Becky. Becky, the pretty girl down the street. He stood on his head. Well, I might have stood on my head, but, well, circumstances didn't seem quite right for it. I believe that you're... Just trying to get the attention of a girl whom I consider to be the prettiest I've ever seen. Want to see me stand on my head? I believe I can do it now. It's the plan a little just... Oh, no, no. You've got my attention. Now, what are you going to do with it? Open your sample case and sell me some socks? No, I just... What was that? Oh, that's just my other odd passenger. Other odd passenger? Mr. Benson, see him up there in that seat? Where? Over the wing. Over the grey-felt hat on. Oh. He makes this flight every week. I better go see what he wants. Excuse me. Uh, what's odd about him? Well, first he runs my legs off, then he runs his own off, and all the passengers ragged. You'll meet him when he starts visiting. A visitor, huh? Excuse me. Oh, you'll come right back? Well, I have to check with the captain and collect the tickets, and then if Mr. Benson will let me, I'll come back. Well, in that case, I'll go with you. Oh, you can't do a thing like that. After you. You'll get me in all sorts of trouble. Not a bit, I promise. Young lady, where's the gum? Here's a beginning to pile. Of course, sir. Oh, just a moment, miss. Mm-hmm. After you've taken care of this gentleman, you're going to see the pilot, as I asked you? As you... Um, yes, I just, I'm going to see the pilot. Splendid. Save me the trip. Tell him to maintain the trim he's using and to adjust the capacitator so the reading will correspond with the carburetor he. Tell him that I'm happy about the starboard, but beginning to worry a little about the port. Understand? But, uh... On second thought, miss, don't tell him anything just yet. No, you're swearing the man is there. Well, that'll be all. You may get this gentleman his chewing gum now. Yes, um... And miss, please, walk softly, huh? Vibrations, you know. Yes, sir. Softly. Say, young fella... Sir, I wonder if you'd mind if I took that window seat for a few minutes. Huh? Oh, sure thing. Let me swing my knees aside. Make it all right. Thank you. Something... Something wrong? Hmm? Nothing. Nothing at all? No cause for alarm? It probably took me two minutes to get Mr. Banson his chewing gum and report to the flight captain. Then when I came out... Oh, miss, you didn't say anything to the captain. Hmm? About what you... Oh, no, I didn't say anything to him. Good. I really didn't have any idea of what he was up to, but being a woman and possessed of a womanly curiosity, I took an empty seat right behind Mr. Banson and listened. You, uh... You work for the airline? Me work for the airline? Oh, no, no, no. I don't work for the airline. Well, you seem... I say, young man, you seem to know something about airplanes, though. Yes, you could say I managed to keep informed. I notice you keep looking out the window. How's that? I notice you keep looking out the window. The window? Oh, yes. Lovely view, isn't it? View? You can't see nothing but clouds out there right now. You're not watching the view, can't kid me. I take this flight every week, every single week. Really? That's fine, fine. The safest way to travel. I say, safest way to travel. Don't you agree? Oh, certainly. I agree with you a hundred percent. A thousand percent. There's something wrong, isn't there? You're watching that wing. That's what you're doing. Really, sir, I assure you, I'm not watching the wing. Absolutely nothing wrong with that wing. Nothing at all. Great. Cease this coast. You mean that there's something wrong with that engine? Please, sir, we don't know that there's anything wrong with that engine at all. Very likely, sound is a dog. Holy cow. Nothing to be alarmed about. Listen to what you sound like. But, man... Shh. Listen. I don't like the sound of it one little bit. Say, I remember seeing something running out of it a while back. It looked like water or maybe gas. Water or gas? Well, that is, I... I mean, that might only have been the engine clearing. Those engines throw off a percentage of waste, you know. Oh, it's all right. You don't have to be that way to me. I wasn't born yesterday. What's wrong with the thing? It's all right. You can tell me. Well, no, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that engine. Great. Cease it. Please, keep your voice down. Well, I know you're not watching that thing for your health. I'm right that far, ain't I? Yes, you're right that far. What is it, then? I heard you say something about vibration. Is that it, vibrations? You know something about aircraft engines yourself, hmm? That's it, huh? For the speed and this altitude, that engine is vibrating just the way it ought to. But then... Look around you. Look around you. Go ahead. I don't see anything. Everybody's sitting still. No one's walking around. They're absolutely no outside vibrations affecting that engine at this moment. That's right. You're a troubleshooter for the people that built that engine, aren't you? New test model, huh? We may arrive at Los Angeles ahead of schedule. And then again... You don't have to say it. Anything I can do? You know about stress fatigue, spacial, torque, OD fatigue, of course. Platoon of soldiers comes to a bridge they break cadence. I heard of that. Rhythm of the vibration might shake the bridge down. Exactly. What is holding down the vibrations? Keep people from walking around, you mean. Valiant little girl. Does her job in none the wiser? Top secret, huh? What do you think? You're a government man, aren't you? That's what you are. A troubleshooter for the government, right? What I do is nothing compared to the job that little girl is doing. What can I do to help? You really want to? Anything. Well, look out there. Where? See the end of the wing? A great Caesar's ghost sees flapping a little. That's all right, that's all right. That's the way it's supposed to be. If it didn't give a little, this plane wouldn't stay in the air. What was your name? Benson. John Henry. Mr. Benson. I'd feel a lot more secure if I was sure that that wing keeps making that little flapping motion. Trust me, I'll keep an eye on her. Eyes and ears open. Engine, too, you know. I gotcha. And Mr. Benson, about all this. Of course, of course, yeah. Mum's the word. Yes. Well, I better be getting back to my seat. They could take the move. The weight isn't what you'd call evenly distributed. Oh, you people think of everything. I'll keep a sharp lookout. Can you get by all right? Oh, fine, thanks. And, uh, oh, Mr. Benson, yeah? Thanks. That's all. Just thanks. Hey, walk softly. Mm-hmm. You know, the, uh, the IBRATIONS, right? I do not condone subterfuge, not even a little. Even though Jim didn't tell one lie or make one statement which could be deferred as derogatory about the condition of the ship. It was, for the most part, a very quiet flight. I will admit it, it was not much fun collecting tickets and serving lunch on tiptoe. Then I had to do some quick thinking to avoid an incident when the little girl sitting across from Mr. Benson felt she might better powder her nose at the other end of the plane. Nevertheless, it did give Jim and me a chance to get acquainted. It was then I found he was a writer. And I, being quite naive, thought it was a glamorous profession. What do you think of things to write about? My work's old stuff. Let's talk about you. Oh, I have never done anything worth talking about. I bet when you were a little say it isn't about time for you to go to work. Oh, yes. Oh, I'm glad one of us is paying attention to business. Excuse me. For now? Oh, don't forget. Don't forget what? Walk softly, vibrations. Fasten your seat belts, please. Fasten your seat belts, please. Seat belt, miss. Can you get it all right there, madam? Safety belt? Did you say safety belts? Would you fasten your seat belt, please? Fasten your belts, everybody. I've been watching. Things were going fine until about a minute ago, and that young fella must have seen it, too. Something sliding out of the bottom of the wings. It finally happened, but I never thought it would be like this. Never did. Never in a million years. Everything's all right, Mr. Benson. That motor does sound funny. I didn't notice it with everybody talking, but these things coming out of the wings, it's hard to miss. Everything's fine, Mr. Benson. Those things coming out of the wings, the flaps going down. We're landing in Los Angeles. That was about all I was to the first meeting for Jim and me, except one thing which was the most frightening of all, or at least the most surprising. The plane had unloaded, and all the passengers had gone, but Jim and Mr. Benson. Mr. Benson was on the ground, and Jim just about to join him. Come on! I think you'd had a love of that airplane by now! You two leaving together? I promised to buy him a bracer's. Figure I owe it to him. You end with an apology. See you later. Oh, say, I've got your address, but I don't even know your name. That's right. It's Elsa King. Elsa King? Well, you're the girl who's going to marry old Jimmy Ames. Oh, you must be thinking of someone else. No, no, I'm pretty sure you're the girl. Well, see you later, Elsa. Oh, wait! I don't know your name. My name? I'm old Jimmy Ames. I saw Jim. It was very much of a surprise. In the first place, it was 10 o'clock the next morning. In the second place, he hadn't called first and consequently caught me in shorts as sweatshirt and pin curlers. And in the third place, he's got a shinier that just won't stop. I never saw such a mouse under anything but a triumphant cat's nose. But he wants to see me? What's his name? He says it's Ames. Oh! Oh, I can't see him like this. I must look terrible. You're right. You never looked worse. Want me to talk to him? Be glad to. Here, let me use your lipstick. No, you don't. I'll talk to him. Like that? Well, I guess he deserves some punishment for dropping around this early. A great help you are. Here, you take the lipstick. No, you haven't got time to use a brush. Well, I'll just take time. He can just wait a minute. Wait, he might get away. Oh, I'm already. Well, that's an overstatement. But this is as good a time as any. Hello. Hello. Well, this is kind of a surprise. I mean, if you'd called... Just happened to be in the neighborhood visiting friends in Glendale. Glendale's eight miles away. Well, you could call it a sprawling neighborhood. Oh, Jim, I'd like to present my roommate, June Ann Sawyer. A pleasure. I've heard so much about you. June. That's, um... Oh, that's quite a black eye you've got there. Oh, yes, yes. I'm afraid Mr. Benson didn't accept my apology too gracefully. Oh, boy, he wasn't as old as I thought. Elsa, you don't have anything very important planned this evening, do you? I don't. Well, I... I don't know. But, um, what did you have in mind? Oh, no, no, bait. We get along fine, but if we're going out, shouldn't it be for each other's company? Well, that's a twist. Jim, I mean, a girl just likes to know where she's going. Even with just lipstick, you're still about the prettiest girl I've seen. Well, thank you. Now, Jim... As a matter of fact, I... Well, I kind of wanted you to be surprised. You see, I've got a friend downtown that connections with a slave market in Algiers. And being a little short of cash, I thought maybe you'd bring a pretty good price. And think of the chance you'd have for adventure, travel, and dream. I'll go. Or if you didn't care for that, Elsa, I could make reservations at a beautiful little place where the atmosphere is like a soft goal coming from the walls. And the wandering violinists fill you with soft and soulful music. Foods prepared by the best chefs in the world. And after that, dancing in the pavilion by moon and candlelight. But if I have to use this as bait... Where is it? I'll go by myself. June, please. Sorry. Jim, a girl just likes to know what to wear. Well, you didn't get me time to tell you. That's right, Elsa. You didn't, you Claude. This boy probably thinks you've been casting aspersions at his judgment. Oh, it's not that. Well, I'm sure any place you choose will be very nice, Jim. Well, thank you. Then you'll have faith in my judgment? Of course. Fine. Pick up at eight. Nice meeting you, June. Same here. And stop making yourself so scarce around here. Oh, Jim. Is that place you mentioned where we're going? What place? Oh, that one. Not tonight. Well, then what should I wear? Overalls. Bring a catcher's mitt. Oh, great, Scott. You mean it? Where the prettiest gown you have. You know, something appropriate to soft lights and dancing. See you later. See you later. You know something, Elsa? What? I'll bet he was right. I'll bet you do wind up marrying old Jimmy Ames. And you know something else? I'll bet that from this moment on, you'll never be completely sure which end is up. We went to a nice place. Not an expensive place, but a very nice one. And I never had an evening quite as wonderful as that one. And we went together for about six months before we got married. Since that time, three years ago, we've been presented with one sturdy man-char. We've started buying a small house, and Jim has written hundreds of pounds of fiction. For all of which, I'm obliged to say as a dutiful wife, he was grossly underpaid. And in all that time, I have never, A, asked him how he scraped enough money together to get that airline ticket, B, seen him get up in the morning smiling, or C, had any idea which end is up. In fact, until this time, I've never tried to tell him how to write a story. Jim. Yes, honey? Why didn't you put in the part about the wedding and the baby coming? But don't you think that's an important part of the story? Yes, dear one. But remember, we have to meet a house payment next month, too. Tighten the old belt, stiff upper lip, save those pennies till we hit prosperity, which is just around the corner. And honey, since we've got this one whip, why not get a sitter in this evening and go out and celebrate? Celebrate? I know a little place where the atmosphere is like soft gold coming from the walls. And the wandering violinist fills you with a kind of soft and soulful music. Then after dinner, dancing in the pavilion by moon. This is Betty Lenegan. We often feel that our own problems are unique, that for others life is rather easy sailing. Sometimes our problem is the endurance of a great sorrow. But oftentimes, it is the steady frustration which monotony induces in us. And endless procession of uninteresting, uninspiring tasks and duties. We feel that life is passing us by. We forget to look around us and see what many others really have to put up with. What a tonic it is and how encouraged we are when we meet with manly and womanly poise and dignity in the sufferance of trials both great and small. More often than not, when this poise and balance is genuine and trouble-proof, we find that it comes from personal prayer, an undeniable confidence that God is one's anchor. And family prayer too is the anchor of the home. No storm of misfortune nor of temperament really can wreck the family which is anchored by family prayer. It makes a family posed and durable when everything seems bound to crack it up. Outburst of temper, turbulent nerves, fits of disgust and unwarranted rivalries can reach destructive proportions. But when our Lord comes among us as we pray, the gales subside. We of so little faith are renewed in our faith, our faith in ourselves, in others, and in Him. In reality, the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Family theater has brought you transcribed in the nature of a warning starring Jane Wyatt and Stephen Dunn. Betty Lynn was your hostess. Others in our cast were Gloria Grant and Herb Butterfield. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by Robert Hugo Sullivan with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. 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 has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when Family Theater will present. Active contrition, starring Edmund O'Brien. Gene Raymond will be your host. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is Mutual, the radio network for all America.