 Family Theatre presents Morino Sullivan and Ted DeCorsia. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theatre presents Ted DeCorsia in The Kid from Scratch Gravel. To introduce the drama, here is your hostess, Morino Sullivan. Tony LaFranco. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we're to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. Tonight, Family Theatre takes great pleasure in presenting The Kid from Scratch Gravel, starring Ted DeCorsia as Skip with Billy Balkam as Lefty. My name is Commodore Dewey Dunham, but everybody calls me Skip. The Skip comes from the fact that I'm Skipper, a manager of a big league baseball club known as The Panthers. Two years ago, we finished a Loud 7. And last year, well, we were in the solar and things were really tough. Then one day, long about mid-season, I get a report on a kid picture that one of our scout, Snuffy Casper, is high on. Southpaw, named... Lefty Partlow, his real name's Larkin Partlow, and he lives in a whistle-stop down in Arkansas called Scratch Gravel. Stop kidding, Snuffy. I ain't kidding, Skip. It's Scratch Gravel. You can look it up in the dictionary. Skip it. How old is this Partlow? 19. He'll be 20 next February. What's he done? What's he done? All he's done is win 17 and lose one so far this year playing semi-pro. And the only one he drops, he should have won. That's semi-pro. What's he got? He's got a fast ball with a hop on it like you ain't seen since Dizzy Dean come up to the cards from Houston. And he's got a cove that breaks off as sharp as Tommy Bridges' has ever did when Tommy was in his prime. Oh, cut it out, Snuffy. The man never lived that could fog it in like old diss and bend it like Tommy Bridges. Yeah, but this kid can. He mixes up that number tow with his fast stuff till they break their backs swinging. Okay, okay. I'll be a sucker. Sign him up. Well, some of our other Snuffy signs up this Partlow kid and we order him to report to our training camp in Florida. When I first take a gander at him, I figure somebody's pulling a gag on him. He's got hay behind his ears and cordwood on his breath. Hank Milligan, our veteran catcher, says to me. I was for warming up this Partlow kid's skip and seeing what he's got, if anything. Okay. Lefty, toss a few to Hank here. Yes, sir. I'll go out with you, Hank. This kid's got all he's cracked up to be. He can maybe help us go places this year. Mm-hmm. I've seen a lot of spring daisies bloom and I've also seen them fade. All right, now take it easy, Lefty. Don't forget it's a long time till October. Yes, sir. I won't use hardly none of my sweat. Okay, just lob it in. Ow! Ooh! That crazy busher liked to tow my hand off skips. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What's the matter with you, Partlow? You trying to rip your arm loose at the elbow? You don't need to fret yourself none about my arm, Mr. Donovan. I've been chunking rocks at the squirrels all winter. Ooh, chunking rocks at the squirrels. That wasn't even half of my sweat, Mr. Donovan. Well, then save it a little later. Let's see you bend one. Yes, sir. Better watch sharp, Mr. Milligan, this jug-handle of mine kind of dips real rapid. Why, you lesson-wise guy, for 12 years now, I've been catching real pictures. All right, lefty, curb one. Hey, that almost got away from you, didn't it, Hank? So help me skip, I've never seen a hook breaks a shot. Man, look real good. You got anything else, lefty, a slider, a knuckler? Well, I've been practicing on screwball, Mr. Donovan, but I ain't got it down, sex-pert yet. Now, let's look it over anyway. Yes, sir. All right, come on, let's have it, kid. What'd you... Hey, what happened? Hey, look at your hand, Hank. What? They tore our fingernail, plum off. I never even... I never even seen it break, skip. I never seen it break. Oh, lefty partlows a spring sensation. But as we travel north to start the season, I still can't figure how he can break into our pitching staff as a first stringer. Jimmy Truesdell and Speck Smarton show the form they've been promising for years. Then we make our first home appearance at Panthefock. Outside the player's entrance. Paper, paper, get your curry expressed. Hey, guy, you can't go in there. That's the player's entrance. Yes, sir. Then I reckon I found right place. You don't look like a ball player to me. What's your name? Hitch Lefty. I mean, Hitch Larkin Parklow. Oh, you're that hot shot... that hot shot cunny thumb all the boys been writing about. I ain't so sure about that. Don't you read the papers? Not no great deal, miss. Mostly I just read comic books. Oh, I thought maybe I could get you for a regular customer when the team's in town. Hi, Skip. Hiya, Polly. How's our little mascot today? Batten 400. Say, Skip, before I waste any time cultivating this butcher for a customer, what's his chances of sticking with the team? What would you say, Polly? I don't know. It looks like a square meal wouldn't hurt him. Well, I've been eating kind of high on hogs since it dawned up with the Panthers, miss. Polly Dudley, Miss Polly Dudley, 10 years old. 11 now, Skip. All right, Miss Polly Dudley, 11 years old. The most rabid root of the Panthers have had. You can say that again, Skip. You know, Lefty, I hope you make the grade. You're kind of nice, even if your haircut isn't exactly hip. The first two weeks of the season, Lefty spends his time tearing splinters off the bench with the seat of his pants or loosening his arm out in the bullpen. Then, in Boston, Specks Martin hooks up with Chuck Stobs in what the sports writers call an old-fashioned pitches battle. It's one-to-nothing favor us as we go into the first half of the ninth, and Specks has allowed the Red Sox only four scattered hits. Johnny Pesky pops to Martin. Buddy Rosa fans. The fans are filing out the exits when Steve O'Neill sends in Clyde Vollmer to bat for Stobs, and Clyde comes through with a single between third and short. On the hit-and-run, Don DiMaggio lines one to right that moves Vollmer to third. Martin works too close on Billy Goodman and walks it, filling the bases. That brings up Ted Williams. I decide Specks has had it and I signal the bullpen for Lefty. Your attention, please. Part low, number 37. Now pitching for Martin. I go back to the bench with my fingers crossed. Hank Milligan's not catching that day, and the first thing he says is, oh, you got your nerve skipped tossing in that busher in a spot like this. Williams is lavalatera's head off. It's a hunch, Hank. Yeah, I hope it ain't a funeral. I'm going to close my eyes. I can't look at this. Like a rusty gate. What are you doing, Theodore? Killing snakes? He crossed them skipped. Williams was waiting for a hook, and the kid crossed them with another fast one. I've been waiting for you, Lefty. Everybody else is gone. Yeah, I reckon so. I've been trying to tie him a neck tie and one of them Windsor knots like Jimmy Trousdale wears. I can't seem to get the hang of it. It's a mess. Lean over and I'll tie it for you right. Gee, Hussaphat. Lefty, I almost died when you fed that last fast one to Williams. Why didn't you throw one wide? Well, Williams don't swing on no bad balls, Miss Polly. I figured what he couldn't see, he couldn't hit. What he couldn't see? Brother, you sure hate yourself, don't you? The guy you found is only the best hitter in the whole league. It ain't that, Miss Polly. It's his eyes against my arm, and I just figure my arm's faster than his eyes. You know, Lefty, if anybody else said that, I'd give him the well-known bird. But with you, it's different. There. There's your tie. Thank you, ma'am. Next time, they'll mix up your stuff with Williams. He'll be waiting for some smoke, and he'll pickle it. Two days later, Jimmy Truesdale uses his twirling wrist to stop a line drive from Big Walk Drop. It's a clean break, and Jimmy's out for a couple of months. So I give Lefty Partlow a regular turn. And we do all right through the west until we move into St. Louis, and that's where the trouble starts. A man and a woman are sitting together in the lobby of a hotel where we always stay. See that kid sitting over there, Rose? The yokel with a fishbowl haircut? Yeah, that's the one. You know who he is? Well, he isn't Ronald Coleman. He's just as famous as Coleman. That's Lefty Partlow, the panther's sensational rookie pitcher. So what do I do? So you ankle over close to him and ask him for a match, and you start talking to him. After that, you call me over and introduce me as your father. Yes. Daddy. Leave the comedy to Gracie Allen. Your name is Rose Travis. My name is Jay Willington Travis, and I'm a banker. You got it? I got it, but I don't see what it's all about. You don't have to see. Do like I say. Yes, Daddy. I beg your pardon. Do you have a match? No, ma'am. I'm sorry, but I ain't. I don't never smoke. Well, I hope you'll forgive my curiosity, but haven't I seen you somewhere before? Your face is so familiar. You have been in scratch gravel Arkansas, ma'am? No, I never have. Maybe you was at some baseball games out in West Texas last year. No, I know. You mentioned baseball. It came to me in a flash. Why, you're Lefty Partlow, the panther's famous pitcher. Oh, Daddy will so want to meet you. He's a great admirer of yours. Do you mind? Daddy! Daddy, come here a minute, will you? Oh, this will be the greatest thrill of Daddy's life. Why, you're his hero, Mr. Partlow. Yes, what is it, my dear? You won't believe this, Daddy, but this gentleman I just happened to meet is Mr. Lefty Partlow. Well, this is a pleasure, Mr. Partlow. My name is Travis, J. Wellington Travis. Oh, I'm proud to pump you, Paul, Mr. Travis. Just wait till I tell my associates at the bank that this is the hand that shook the hand of the famous Lefty Partlow. Oh, I can bet you, Travis, I'm just over 100. Don't ever underrate yourself, Lefty. Modesty's an excellent trait, but sometimes it can cost you money. Now, look at Dizzy Dean. He knew he was good and he told the world about it. What did it get him? Just about $100,000 for one season, that's all. Don't you, Mr. Partlow? Oh, shuckings, no. Mr. Andrews is paying me $5,000. What? $5,000? Why, man, those are coolly wages, but I'm sure you received a handsome bonus when you signed with the Panthers. I got $1,000. No. Oh, sure did. And I gave it to my pappy to buy some mules and some other stuff we was needing for our farm. Rose, I think this young man and I must become better acquainted. With my long experience in the fields of finance, I'm sure I can be of service to him. Real service. What gives with this rabbit twister, Joe? I just wired Benny Albert to fly out. I'm going to work the old lost wallet gimmick on the kid. What's that? Rose, your education in the less subtle forms of larceny has been sadly neglected. This is the way it works. Lefty and I find a wallet on the lobby floor. When we examine it, we find the name T. Theron Bayless stamped on it in gold. By the merest coincidence, Mr. Bayless is staying at the hotel. When we return it to him, Mr. Bayless, who happens to be an international financier and also Benny Albert, is so grateful that he offers us a sure thing on the stock market. What'll that get you? This lefty sawed Buster signs up for a grand and he makes five a year. He hasn't got any dough. He doesn't need any. Did you ever stop to think what a clean-up it would be if I got him so scared he'd throw a ball game and I knew which game it would be? That's murder, Joe. It's a fortune, baby. The way that kid's been going every time he pitches, a wad of dough on the short end wouldn't be hay, Rosie. Gentlemen, I must offer you a reward for your honesty. While my wallet contained almost no currency, not over $600 at the most, the papers will, frankly, they were irreplaceable. Would you say $200? Oh, we don't want any reward, Mr. Bayless. It's been a privilege to be of such slight service to a man in your position. Well, spoken like a gentleman, Mr. Travis. However, yes, I see no reason why I shouldn't let you in on the killing. Mr. Travis and Mr. Potlow, my associates and I are cornering Transatlantic Copper. A slight investment today? Well, I could almost guarantee it would be tripled by the time the market closes. Well, I'll go for a thousand, Mr. Bayless. How about you, lefty? Shocking, Mr. Travis. I don't hold no such amount of cash as that. Well, then go for, say, 50. Oh, yeah, I've got 50, all right. Well, let me have it, boy. I'll triple it in three hours, or my name's Naughty Ferron Bayless. Very good, Armitage. Very good. Yes. Now, let me know of any new developments. Yes, yes, I'll be here at the hotel. Goodbye, Armitage. My congratulations, Mr. Travis and Mr. Potlow. Your profit, Mr. Travis, is $3,000. And yours, Mr. Potlow, is $150. Oh, my thanks. Oh, not at all. Oh, permit me to pay you now out of my own pocket, and my broker can reimburse me tomorrow. Yes, the crooks played lefty like a fisherman plays a rainbow trap. The kid keeps buying stocks, or thinks he does, and of course, he makes a profit on every deal. Out on the pitching rubber, he's pure poison. When we hit Boston in August, he's 118 and dropped only five. Mr. Travis has been following the team from city to city, and he checks in at our hotel. He phones lefty and asks him to come to his room. Lefty, how'd you like to make a real cleanup? Well, how much did the real cleanup be, Mr. Travis? What would you say to $20,000? $20,000? Glory be, I could send it to Pappy and he could buy himself a ranch down in Texas, just like he's been wanting to since always. I just got a phone call from Mr. Bayless. There's a certain stock. I can't tell you what it is, of course, that he and his associates have rigged. I want you to buy $5,000 worth. But Mr. Travis, I ain't got no $5,000. I'll fix that. I've always been your friend. A good friend, haven't I, son? I ain't never had none that was no better. Thank you, Lefty. Now, what are friends for if they can't help each other? So here's what I'm going to do. I'll put up the $5,000 for you and all you have to do is give me a note for it. After you collect your profits, you can pay me back and I'll tear up the note. I ain't so sure, Mr. Travis. Nonsense, my boy. I've got it all made out. Now you sign right here and I'll take care of everything. I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Lefty. You mean that stock didn't go up like you said it would? No, we've dropped every penny we invested. But Mr. Travis, $5,000... Now don't worry, son. I'll hold your note and you can pay me whenever you're able. A week or so later, we come home for a stand against the Eastern Clubs, opening with the Yankees. When Lefty checks into the hotel where he and most of the other single-fellow stay, Mr. Travis is waiting for him. When do you plan to pay me the money, you owe me, Lefty? Shuckins, Mr. Travis. You know I ain't got no such amount of cash as $5,000. You told me there wasn't no hurry. When did I tell you that? Well, when we was in Boston. You said you'd hold my note and I could pay you off whenever I was able to. I don't hold any note of yours. I have a check for $5,000 drawn on the International Trust Company of New York. What? You mean to say you don't have an account in that bank? I ain't got no account no her and no bank. Then that's forgery. And you're headed right straight for the penitentiary. You wouldn't do that, Mr. Travis. I certainly will. Except on one condition. The next time you pitch, you better make sure you lose. But that ain't honest. Either is writing a check on a bank where you don't have an account. Now think it over, Lefty. Either you lose when you start against the Yankees or you go up the river for a long stretch. First, Lefty tells me he's sick and he can't pitch even though it's his turn. Then Hank Milligan comes to me and says... Skip! Oh, Skip. I saw something last night that don't look so good. What's that, Hank? Well, when we checked in the hotel, there was a guy waiting to see Lefty. He called the guy Mr. Travis. But he was Little Joe Turk. That tin horn kid. And it sure looked like Little Joe was laying down the law to Lefty. If Little Joe Turk was to somehow have the ax on Lefty... He couldn't do it. Lefty got thrown out of baseball. Yeah, but the kid don't know that. What? After all, Skip. He's just a hay shaker that's never been around here before. I'll talk to him. No. Oh, Skip. I got some more bad news. Little Polly. You know, the kid that sells papers. She got took with polio while we was away. Oh, no, Hank. Mm-hmm. She's out at St. Francis Hospital. They got her in an iron lung. Joe Bearden told me. Well, has she got everything she needs? Has she got the best doctors? Take it easy, Skip. Joe says they couldn't treat her better if she was a queen. That gave me the idea I needed. I called Lefty and told him I wanted him to go somewhere with me. We drove out to St. Francis Hospital and I took him to Polly. Hi, Skip. Hi, Lefty. Yeah, I was hoping you'd come to see me. How are you, honey? Still batting 400, Skip. They told me I'll be out of this tin can in a couple of months. I got a radio here so I only missed the ballgames the first days. Gee, how's the fat, Lefty? I almost rolled over when you went four for four against Mel Parnell in Boston. Somebody told Mel I couldn't hit a high harden so he kept a fog in the men across the letters. I guess you're the best-hitting pitcher in the whole world. I'll take my cuts. Brother, I'll say you do. And I'll bet you pinned those Yankees' ears back this afternoon. Maybe I ain't going again to Yankees. It's your turn, isn't it? Of course, Lefty's going today. I thought you were just kidding. How's the old flipper feel, Lefty? It's all right, I guess. Watch that Gil McDougal. He's hot and yogi-bear. Look, honey, we've got to shovel off it. There's anything we can do for you. Not a thing, Skip. Except to tear those Yankees' pieces. And, Lefty, if you toss a no-hitter, will you bring me the last ball? If I do. Bye, Polly. Maybe I'll be seeing you later today. Bye, Lefty. Bye, Skip. Thanks for coming to see me. Goodbye, honey. Don't worry about a thing. If Lefty doesn't beat those Yankees' afternoon, I'll send him so deep in the miners he'll never get back. Golly, Mr. Donovan, that little old Polly's a real fan, ain't she? Yeah. She eats, breathes, and lives baseball. To her and about 10 million other American kids, baseball isn't just a game where 18 Joe's and monkey suits hit and throw a little white pill around the ball yard. It's, well, the best way I can say it, it's just about the next thing to religion. And it puts an awful responsibility on every one of us that's in the game. Yeah, I reckon it sure does. Any time one of us doesn't bear down, it hurts us and it hurts the game. But most of all, it hurts those millions of American kids who look up to us like we were a bunch of gold-plated heroes. All in all, baseball's been mighty clean. It's up to us to keep it clean for the kids will be stars when all we are is a bunch of statistics in the record book. Maybe you never thought about it exactly that way, Lefty. No, sir. I don't reckon I never did. Mr. Donovan, I got something I just got to tell you. I don't want to hear it now. Save it till after we pour it on the Yankees. After that, maybe you can imagine how I feel when Lefty walks nine men in the first four innings and the only thing that saves us is some fancy feeling that has that crowd hanging on their seats. When Lefty tosses four straight bad ones to Vic Rashi, I go to the mound. What's the matter, kid? That's the most walks you've given all year. I don't know, Mr. Donovan. I just ain't a get in the corner. Are you sure you're aiming for them? Well, I'll listen to you. I know all about what happened. All I'm saying is this. A little girl named Polly has her ear glued to her radio out at St. Francis Hospital. Right now, she's probably dying a thousand deaths. Are you going to let her down? Well, don't fret yourself none about that. Mr. Donovan, I'll make them Yankees think this baseball's an iceberg tablet. Daddy. What's the score, she asks me. I got every dime I own riding on the Yankees. And the Panthers are ahead wind of nothing. And it's the first of the ninth with two out. You're as bad as that double cross in Lefty Parklow. A no-hitter, he's pitching. Lies now budding for college. Johnny Lies. Maybe he can park one. Is this Lies a good bet? Oh, shut up and watch. Shut up! What are you trying to do? I've got to give Polly that baseball I promised her. I owe it to her. Well, tell her I'll see her in a couple of days. Okay, Skip. So all you owe that little girl is a baseball. Now, Latte, someday you'll realize you owe her far more than that. This wholesome story we've just heard. Lefty owes Polly ever so much more than just a baseball. Gratitude isn't quite the right word for it. Perhaps the word is incentive. And I'm not so sure that every public figure, whether in sports or entertainment, hasn't the same incentive and the same obligation to those who look up to him. And in some cases, who actually imitate him, it has been said that the man or woman who strives for the public's favor should never forget the solemn responsibility of example. Yet, public people are only human after all, with the same tendency to frailty and to folly as anyone else. Where, then, can they get the inner strength that they or that any one of us must have to bolster our poor human weakness? Well, the answer is prayer, simply that. And since it's literally true and not mere poetic fancy that where two or three are gathered together in his name, he is in the midst of them. How much more powerful than the prayer of one individual is that of the whole family, drawing on that strength and strengthening each other. Surely such a family and each member of it will inevitably reap the benefit of loving, united prayer, rising like the incense of evening sacrifice, united to our heavenly Father, and united always to each other. For the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. This is directed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program. By the mutual network which responds to this need and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to join us next week at this time when Family Theater will present James Whitmore and Jean Raymond in the Mademoiselle from San Antoine. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood Studios of the world's largest network. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.