 Remember a hallmark card when you carry enough to send the very best. But the makers of hallmark greeting cards bring you Robert Young, an FS Key Smith story of Francis Scott Key on the hallmark playhouse. Big Hallmark will bring you Hollywood's greatest stars in outstanding stories chosen by one of the world's best known authors. They distinguish novelist, Mr. James Hilton. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is James Hilton. Tonight on our hallmark playhouse, we tell the story of the man who wrote words that I would venture to say are sung more often than any others in the language. When Francis Scott Key wrote the Star Spangled Banner exactly 137 years ago, it was odd, don't you think, that there should have been things in it like bombs bursting in air and the rocket's red glare, words that have such extra meaning for the world today. But we may still hope that of all the lines in his entire poem, the truest and most enduring will be the last. The line that sums up the heart and purpose of our country in those magnificent words, the land of the free and the home of the brave. So now tonight we tell you this story of Francis Scott Key and how he came to write our national anthem. And to start in the role of the poet, we have with us a fine Hollywood actor, not only famous everywhere, but one of our own special favourites on the hallmark playhouse, Robert Young. And now here is Frank Goss from the Makers of Hallmark Cards. When you want to remember your friends, there's one way to be sure the card you send receives an extra welcome. Look for that identifying hallmark on the back when you select it. For words to express your feelings and designs to express your good taste. That hallmark on the back is your guide. Like the sterling on silver, it's a mark of distinction that all quickly recognize. And it tells your friends you cared enough to send the very best. And now Hallmark Playhouse presenting FS Keysmith's story of Francis Scott Key, starring Robert Young. Our history over a hundred years ago, many noble words were spoken and written and sung and this is the story of how some of them became part of our history, part of our American heritage, so that we give them today our full heart and voice. The man who wrote them was as American as his birthplace, Frederick County, Maryland, and he was young in the days when America was young. He and his country would grow 63 years older together, but when those years were passed, his words would live on through all that was to come. What sort of a man was he? What kind of life did he have? What would he have written to his children when he grew old and they were far away? My dear children, I'm sitting alone in my study. I've been sitting here watching the afternoon deepen into evening, thinking over days and events a long time passed. My mind has gone back and forth across the years, sorting and picking out memories and I want to write some of them down so that you will know something in the hours your father lived, of his dreams, of his conflicts, of his disappointments, of his fulfillments. Like all memories, these are but fragments garnered from the years. I remember a spring in Annapolis when I was a young struggling attorney. I remember sitting at my grandmother's feet. I remember the words she spoke. Oh, Francis, to listen to you, to hear your grandfather again, you in love with the country as he was in love with it, as a poet is in love with beauty, as a man is in love with strength. You're a good lawyer, but I'd rather see you a poet than a lawyer. Yes, she wanted me to be a poet, but law was my profession and law was to be my life. Spring in Annapolis, I was young and in love with the prettiest girl in the country, but she was a descendant of the governor of the colony. I thought she was far above me. I was as tongue-tied as a schoolboy in her presence. I remember going to her house night after night. I remember sitting beside her in an agony of silence, held prisoner by emotions I could not express, held captive by words I could not speak. And I remember a night when I stood alone in a doorway, watching her dance with the wealthiest and most handsome man in town. Well, Mr. Key, why aren't you with the dancers? Oh, good evening, Miss Lloyd. Well, Mary's dancing with someone else, I see. Mr. Key, would you mind stepping into my library for a moment? No, sir. Sit down, Mr. Key. Thank you, sir. Mr. Key, are you in love with my daughter? Sir? I think you heard the question. Yes, I... I suppose I did. You know, for a man who is exceedingly articulate in the courtroom, you are excessively inarticulate in the parlor. Well, sir, I don't make much money, and whether you make much money is completely beside the point. You've already demonstrated a certain amount of adroitness at law. I think you show promise of an excellent future. Why, thank you, sir. Now, about my daughter, Mr. Key, she has a good many suitors. Yes, I... know she has. But for some reason or other, she seems to prefer you. She does? Yes. Now, I think she and I have both waited quite long enough for you to speak. I'm out of patience for the whole thing, so tell me, once and for all, are you in love with my daughter? Yes, sir. I'm very much in love with your daughter. Then, in the name of heaven, go find her, take her for a walk in the garden and tell her... No, never mind. I'd better do it myself. Mr. Key has most eloquently and ardently begged for the honor of your hand in marriage. Sir! He has, Father. Have you, Mr. Key? He has convinced me that he is very much in love with you, and if it pleases you, I shall be most pleased to give him your hand in marriage. Oh, it would please me very much, Father. Miss Lloyd. Mr. Key. And now I think I'll take a walk in the garden. I... I can't believe it. Did you really say that you would accept me? Didn't you know how I felt? Oh, Mary, I seem to have words to express all ordinary thoughts, but this is so out of the ordinary. I don't even know how to begin. I think I've waited all my life for just this moment, and so your mother and I were married and started down the years together, deep inside me and somehow never forgotten with the words with which my grandmother said farewell. He's a good attorney, Mary, but don't let him forget the poetry. He must write. The words are inside him. He must write them down. But my time was all used up in writing briefs. I worked hard and long and late. And finally I was paid a very great honor. I was appointed by the President as United States District Attorney for the District of Columbia. Strange as I look back, how one case stands out above all others. One case and one of my children asking me about it. Father. Yes, son. Everyone says you're going to kill the man who killed President Jackson. What's that? Everyone says... The man didn't kill President Jackson. Son, he just tried to, and your father isn't going to kill him. He's going to punish him. I think he should be killed. Why do you think a thing like that? He tried to kill the President. He shot at him. Son, a man isn't always responsible for what he does. Everyone says it's part of a plot against the President. Who is everyone? Well, it's just everyone. Everyone doesn't think it was part of a plot. And after careful study of the case, I'm not sure I think it is either. He did try to kill the President, though, Francis, and people are saying the man should be prosecuted. That it's your duty to prosecute. Yes, it's my duty to prosecute him, and I will. Mary, I believe that in a criminal proceeding, the duty of the representative of the government is prosecution, not persecution. Does that mean you aren't going to do anything to him, father? That means, son, that I'm going to do my best to receive justice. Regardless of my personal feelings in the matter, he must receive justice. Do you expect a little boy to understand that? Perhaps not at first, but if we keep telling him over and over in time, he will understand it. My son, I want you, I want all my children to know why their forefathers came to this country. They came to escape oppression, to lay the foundations of a nation on liberty and equality and justice. They lit a torch and guarded the flame with their own bodies and handed it to us. And we, in turn, will hand it to you. And you will hand it to those who come after you. You must fight for liberty for all men and justice towards all men, my son. For those are the principles on which America was built, and on which we must survive. You're right, Francis. I was wrong to say what I did. You understand, son, your father will fight for justice for a man who tried to kill someone of whom he's very fond. And the president will fight for justice for this man, regardless of public sentiment, because he lives in a land that promises justice to him. The mints of memory, the face of a child, the face of a woman, of a president, of a would-be assassin. Words said a long time ago, sifting through my thoughts, and over and over, woven like a pattern through them all. The words of your great-grandmother. They must write. The words are inside him. He must write them down. We turn to the second act of Francis Scott Key, starring Robert Young. There is an old Chinese proverb which says, words are the voice of the heart. And the makers of hallmark cards understand this proverb well, for they are experts at making words truly the voice of the heart. You see, they realize it is the messages on hallmark cards which give them meaning. For greeting cards are not just material possessions that you purchase for yourself, you buy greeting cards only to send to others. And you want cards that will carry something of you across the miles, your friendliness, your gaiety, your sympathy, your warm affection. That's why the makers of hallmark cards are so particular about the words that go inside a hallmark card. They know you want a greeting card of good design and in good taste, but above all you want a card that says what you want to say, just the way you want to say it. And hallmark cards do just that. That's why more and more discriminating people look for hallmark on the back of any card they send or receive. They have found that you can always look to a card with hallmark on the back for a warm, friendly, person-to-person greeting on those occasions when you want your friends to know you cared enough to send the very best. Now back to James Hilton in the second act of Francis Scott Key, starring Robert Young. Francis Scott Key lost in his memories went on writing a letter to his children. Sometimes his pen raced, sometimes it was slow and halting. There came to him a thousand recollections of words he had spoken, of men he had known, of things big and little he had seen happen. Yes, my mind has been going back and forth across the years, starting and picking out memories. Fragments garnered from the years. I remember a night long before I went to Washington to become district attorney. A night when a worried man from Upper Marlboro sat in my study. Have you been advised of the arrest of Dr. Beans of Marlboro by the British? No, I haven't. Why was he arrested? Most unfortunate circumstance. A group of straggling British soldiers broke into the doctor's house. They were boisterous and disorderly and Dr. Beans ordered them arrested by the town authorities. One of them escaped. He told us a period that the doctor tried to poison some of the men and that those who were still in jail would undoubtedly be killed. I see. Dr. Beans is a kind old man, a wonderful man. Yes, I know of him. Why, he even tended the wounds of many of the British soldiers. What happened to him? The British sent a squad in the middle of this. We thought perhaps you could persuade the British Admiral to release him. But how do you think I can persuade the Admiral? We're at war with England. Well, you've more of a way with words than we have. We thought perhaps that if you could get to the British Admiral and explain the circumstances, after all, they're human beings too. Surely they'll understand if it's properly explained. Yes, of course, I'll try. I doubt if I can do anything, but I will try. And so, with the sanction of the government, I started out with a flag of truce to beg the British for the life of the doctor from Marlborough. I left my home with a small group of friends on the 3rd of September. And a few days later, I was in the Admiral's cabin on the British ship's surprise. Well, Miss Key, I find your request frankly astounding. One of the affiliations to his Majesty's troops is to be hanged to the yard arm of this vessel. Sir, if a band of drunken soldiers had invaded your home, what would you have done? Admiral, the man you would hang to the yard arm is a man who has been kind to your soldiers. A doctor who does not ask the nationality of the men he cares for. A man who sees in countrymen an enemy as well. Human beings in need of help. His only sin against you was an attempt to protect his home against bandals. If you kill him, you murder a man of gentleness and peace, a friend of humanity. Many such a loss in war, Mr. Key. I know, but let's not lose a life that can be saved. War is for the battlefields. What kind of victory is it for the British fleet to hang a helpless old man to the yard arm? And what kind of testimony is it to the kindness of the British nature? I came here, I admit, with a certain hopelessness. I came because one of my countrymen said, they are human beings. Surely they will understand if it is properly explained. Human beings? Can we be human beings in time of war? At moments like this, perhaps for just a moment, we can. You have a rare way with words. Are you a writer, Mr. Key? I am an attorney, Admiral Cochran. Mr. Key, I am about to take many American lives. But I will give you back the one you ask. It may not be wise, but I shall allow myself the luxury of being human for just this moment. Thank you, Admiral Cochran. Thank you very much. You know then, your presence poses something with a problem. We are about to land at North Point and take Baltimore. Take Baltimore? Yes. Do you think you can take Baltimore? Easily, Mr. Key, easily. Remember, I have 9,000 soldiers and Marines ready to land. Baltimore. I was there five days ago. Beautiful city. Do you intend to pillage and burn it as you did Washington? Now, don't think you can persuade me to save your city. And don't think you will be permitted to return and spend an alarm. You will be put back on the ship on which you came, under a guard of British Marines. You will remain there until we have captured the city. Neither at your ship is anchored in such a position that you will have an excellent view of Fort McHenry. You shall watch us, capture the fort and go on to Baltimore, Mr. Key. Fragments of memory. We watched the British land at North Point. Wine of bullets, the roar of cannons and bombs split the September air, and victory and freedom hung in the balance. All day the British shelled the fort. All day we stood against the rail and watched the battle. All day our eyes went from the battle to the flag that arched above the smoke and flame. As long as it was there, we were not defeated. As long as it was there, there was hope. If it could last the day, if it could last the night, if it could last the battle. And when night gently lowered a dark curtain between our ship and the land, it was still flying, no peace, I walked the deck anxiously searching for the flag each time the red glare of the cannons lit up the sky. Liberty was at stake. Life was at stake. The future of America was at stake. And as I walked those agonizing hours that stretched endlessly from dark to dawn, I began to hear words. The words, although formed within my own heart, seemed to come from the hearts of those who had fought and died and those who were living and fighting now. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming, whose broad stripes and bright stars were still there. The words stirred inside me like a prayer. And the prayer came for the past and the present and was for the future. And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. The words were a prayer. Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Suddenly there was quiet. The noise of battle ceased. Not a shot was fired. And the silence was more frightening in those last dark hours of the night than the noise had been. The battle had been won, but who had won it? There was none to tell us. I fell on my knees beside the rail to pray and wait for the dawn. And when the dawn came, when the dawn came, Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light what so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? She's there. The flag still flies. The flag flies and flies. We've won. Praise God we've won. Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. The words were pulsing, pounding, clamoring through me. I wrote them down in the back of an old letter. I wrote them down through my tears, through my great joy. I wrote them down hardly aware of what I was doing. Oh, thus be it ever when free men shall stand between their loved homes and the war's desolation. Blessed with victory and victory, blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, and this be our motto, in God is our trust. And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. The glory of a tattered flag against a morning sky. Pride in country and countrymen rising until my tears ran unashamed on my face. And behind the tears, the sudden strong knowledge that we had preserved liberty in our lifetime kept it secure for those who had come after. Fragments of memory. A poem written on the back of an old letter. I leave it to you, my children. And I ask you to think of it not as a poem, or as an attempt on the part of your father to be a poet. Think of it as the words of an American. Trying to express his love, his devotion, his gratitude, his faith in his country. The contribution to our American heritage consisted of only a few words, but what words they are. They are words of courage, of faith, of liberty. They are words that bring to each of us every time we hear them the living spirit of our country. We of Hallmark who work with words every day, join with our fellow Americans in acknowledging our gratitude to the man who gave us such inspiring words, Francis Scott Key. Here again is James Hilton. You know, Bob, it's like welcoming a member of the family to have you on the Hallmark Playhouse again. Your performance tonight was excellent and heartwarming as always. Thank you, Jimmy. As for being a member of the Hallmark family, why I am, you know, I bet we celebrate more birthdays and anniversaries and such than most any other family in Hollywood. And always when you turn the cards over, there's that Hallmark. It's like an extra hello from a friend of longstanding. Yes, I expect you do have a lot of occasions to use Hallmark cards, Bob. Hello, the girls. Give them my regards, will you? I surely will, Jimmy. They always enjoy listening to the radio on Thursday nights. What are you having on the Hallmark Playhouse next week? Next week, our story will be one of the best-loved classics of romantic adventure. Anthony hopes The Prisoner of Zender. And for our starring role, we know there could be no one better than Douglas Fairbanks. Our Hallmark Playhouse is every Thursday. Our director-producer is Bill Gay. Our music is composed and conducted by David Rose. And our script tonight was adapted by Gene Holloway. Until next Thursday then, this is James Hilton saying, Good night. There are so lonely in stores that have been carefully selected to give you expert and friendly service. Remember a Hallmark card when you will carry it up to send the very best. Robert Young, star of Father Knows Best, appeared to the courtesy of Maxwell House Coffee. The role of Mary tonight was played by Barbara Eiler, others in our cast were Virginia Gregg, Ted Osburn, Herbert Butterfield, Bill Johnstone, and David Duvall. This is Frank Goss saying, Good night to you all until next week at the same time, when Hallmark Playhouse returns to present Douglas Fairbanks in Anthony Hope's The Prisoner of Zender. And the week following, Muriel Elwood's The Web of Destiny, starring Jane Wyman. And the week after that, Bellamy Portridge's country lawyer on the Hallmark Playhouse.