 Family Theatre presents Jean Tierney and The Broken Fitcher. Family Theatre brings you Virginia Gregg, Hi-Abrabac and Howard McNear in The Broken Fitcher with Ted Osborne as narrator. Thank you, Jean Baker. Poets and botanists have often expressed deep regret in the fact that some of the world's most beautiful and fragrant of flowers bloom only in wastelands and deserts. This, in a way, is also descriptive of the writings of Heinrich Czerka, a modest, retiring Swiss professor of the early 19th century. For his charming and delightful stories have had only a small, although enthusiastic, local audience. Unlike the flowers of the wastelands, however, that wither and die with transplanting, we of Family Theatre feel certain that the direct opposite will prove true the works of Heinrich Czerka. And so we bring you his wonderfully gay and heartwarming story, The Broken Fitcher, with Virginia Gregg and Hi-Abrabac as the enchanting lovers and Ted Osborne as your storyteller. This is a story about a pitcher. You ask me, how can anyone tell a story about a pitcher? It's very simple. One merely... Well, one begins by... Well, one simply tells a story about a pitcher. But a story must have people in it to say. Preferably a young, beautiful girl and a handsome young man who fall in love and eventually marry and live happily ever after. Yes, that is a real story, you say. A love story. Well, I say nonsense. One can tell very interesting, engaging stories about much more important subjects than young love. Subjects such as... Such as... Well, such as the subject I have chosen for presentation now. A story about a pitcher. That does not game say that my story may not have people in it. But it does. It even has a beautiful young girl named Marietta and a handsome young man named Colin. But a love story? Nonsense. Why, one only has to hear these two young people voice their opinions of one another to know that it could not possibly be a love story. You wish to learn my opinion of that porridge and unmanally Colin? I should be delighted to tell you. For there are some in the village who would say he was handsome with a wonderfully entrancing laugh. With him sweet and... Well, it is fortunate you have come to me. For I know how he truly is. How when I speak to him, he rudely stammers. How when I meet him in the street, he becomes red and white with anger. But parties, I catch him glancing at me constantly with looks that can only be termed malicious. Yes, I should be delighted to tell you my opinion of that boorish, unmanally Colin. You wish to know about Marietta? Well, it is most fortunate you have come to me. For there are those who would say she was the sweetest, most wholesome, most beautiful young maid in the village of Naples. But I know of the effect those gorgeous big eyes of hers have had upon the young men of Naples. How her smile has caused bickering among loved ones. The laughter and warmth in her voice upsetting the closest of male friendships. And all the while, she plays innocent of the effect of her beauty on others. Yes, I can tell you about that, that outrageous heartbreaker in flirted Marietta. There, you see? With these two young people holding such opinions concerning one another, this could not possibly be a love story. Oh, no indeed. It is quite simply and factually a story about a picture. Now, the story really begins at the annual fair held in the city of Vance. Every year, almost all the villagers of Naples would go there. And in the year of which we speak, beautiful Marietta and her mother, Manor, went along to the fair with the rest. Oh, Marietta, did you ever see such silks and laces, such frocks and gowns, such... Oh, I must ask the price of that one from the merchants. Never have I seen such a rude and unmarried kiss. Well, is he really? Well, if that be so... Oh, but how do you know? We've not even spoken with him yet. You can one speak with him. All day he's been hovering nearby pretending to ignore us yet always noticing us. He has yet to open his mouth. He's nothing but a... but a rude and unmanly person. Rude? Unmanly? Hovering nearby? What is wrong with you, child? Are you dreaming? Are you really brooding over some... scheme of wickedness? Wait, but why should the merchant be contemplating such scheme of wickedness about us? The merchant? I'm not speaking of the merchant, mother. I'm speaking of Kola. Oh, Kola? For pity's sake, child, why should such strange thought come into your mind here? There are so many more important things to think of. Oh, those frocks, the pottery ware, that picture, the beautiful, beautiful... That picture? Gaze upon that picture? Yes, mother. I will gaze upon... Mother! That picture! It is the... the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Oh, look at it, Marietta. The edge is of dazzling gold. The flowers painted upon it could be blooming in our very own garden. Why, why, a queen would not be ashamed to raise it to her lips. I had such a picture, mother. I would only place the rarest round of flowers in it and then gaze upon it, feeling that I was peeping into paradise. I see you've noticed my beautiful picture, ladies. Oh, yes, yes. Yes, we have. I do not blame you for being so enraptured. It's made of the most translucent porcelain, and note the gilded handles, the glowing colours. It is indeed a treasure that any fine home would be proud to possess. A home as fine as the one you, ladies, must of necessity reside in. Oh, thank you, monsieur. Thank you, monsieur. Thank you. What, what would the price of that wonderful picture be? Oh, I would not sell it to anyone, mademoiselle. For a treasure such as that can only be entrusted to those with the artistic souls, the eyes for beauty, the hearts with boundless warmth who are worthy of such an objeure. In short, mademoiselle, someone only like you, too, gentle ladies. Oh, thank you, monsieur. Thank you, thank you. The price, monsieur. The price. Ah, who can speak of price in the presence of such a creation of genius? You are the only souls I know outside of myself who are fundamentally in a spiritual rapport with this ninth wonder of the world. Oh, no, madame, I cannot speak of price. The picture is yours. I present it to you. You, you give it to us? Yes, mademoiselle, I give it to you. The most minute of token payments, a hundred gold leaves. Oh, is he not the dearest, sweetest man, Marietta? Imagine actually giving us that gorgeous picture for only a hundred gold leaves. Yes, I know, madame. It is a ridiculously small figure, an unbelievably trifling sum compared with its true value. And yet to such connoisseurs as you I could not ask more. Indeed you could not, monsieur. You cannot even ask a tenet as much for we do not have it. Come along, mother. But, but have you noticed the practically living barry leaf upon it? The color tone of... Such stupid in artistic souls, such unappreciative, unimaginative creatures why that picture is easily worth seventy-five leaves if it's worth a soot. It's not worth a franc more than fifty, my good man. I beg your pardon, sir. Have you noticed the translucent posthum, the gilded handles, the glowing colors? What? Well, there are your hundred gold leaves, monsieur. Now pack the picture in a box well filled with cotton, then I shall carry it off. Now, if this were a love story, one would surmise Ecolein's intention was to give the picture to the lovely Marietta as an anonymous present from one who worshipped her silently from afar. However, we already know that this is merely a tale about the picture. And in view of what Marietta has told us about this young man, we must follow him closely to ascertain just what evil plans he must necessarily have in mind. Thus was falling as Collin approached the village of Naples, carrying the precious picture in its well-wrapped box under his arm. And on the road passing nearby the home of Justice Omar Tan, he surreptitiously intercepted all Jacques, the justice's servant who was returning from the fields. Jacques? Jacques? To a... What is you, Monsieur Collin? Yes, Jacques. I wish you to perform an errand for me. An errand, Monsieur Collin? Oh, but I could not possibly. I am employed by Justice Omar Tan. You know, I... I cannot work... You were saying, Monsieur Collin, there was a matter in which I could serve you. Yes, Jacques. Take this box to Madame Manos' house and leave it there. If anyone should see you and inquire from whom the box came, merely say, a stranger gave it to me. But do not disclose my name under any circumstances, or I shall always detest you. You see, this very secrecy of Collin pertends some wicked scheme indeed. Most fortunate was for the lovely Marietta that Jacques accepted the bribery and wended his way toward Madame Manos with the beautiful picture that the hero of our story intercepted him. Our hero whose name depicts his very character, the Justice Omar Tan. Justice Omar Tan. Oh, Justice Omar Tan. It is you. Who's me? I mean I. Jacques, of course I am Justice Omar Tan. And you are Jacques, my servant. So where are you going with that box? Where are you going? Oh, I am taking it to Madame Manos' house, Monsieur. It is a present for her. A present? A Madame in there? Isn't that nice of me? I must confess, I do not remember having purchased any presents. Oh, no, no, sir. No, it was not you. Stranger gave it to me. What's Stranger? What was his name, sir? I cannot tell you. Oh, you cannot? And why not? Why not? Because, sir, if I told you, Monsieur Collin would always detest me. Oh, well, that is excusable. Monsieur Kelly, eh? Yes, sir. I see, I see, I see. But you had best give me that box. I will deliver it to Madame Manos' in the morning myself. And I shall keep your secret for you. I promise, Jacques, that she shall never know that it comes from Monsieur Collin. Fortunate were the lovely Marietta and her mother Madame Manos that the brave and staunch Justice Omar Tan was there to intercept the package. For he would not allow any evil wickedness on the part of Collin to torment them. Indeed, he took the package home and examined it quite carefully in his chamber. Well, well, well, let me see. Let me see now. What is this written upon the lid? Eh, eh, eh. For the lovely and dear Marietta. Oh, eh, eh. This is some mischief of Collin's. Eh, eh, this is mischief. Some Navy's trick lurks behind this. Navy's. I'd best open the box carefully. That's some mouse. Or rat. Be concealed within. Oh, yes, I'll open it very carefully. Ah! What's this? A priceless pitcher. Oh, I see, I see, I see. Eh, there's no question. The malicious Collin has designed this pitcher as a means of bringing misfortune to Marietta. Yes, misfortune. But I, the Justice Omar Tan, shall destroy this evil spell. I'll destroy it. Marietta shall receive the pitcher, but I shall profess that it comes from me. Ah, the good Justice Omar Tan. The brave Justice Omar Tan. The heroic Justice Omar Tan. Ah, how wonderful it was of him to risk his reputation, his very nobility of character, by assuming responsibility for giving Marietta the present of the wondrous pitcher. It is little wonder that he is the hero of this story. Besides, he far surpasses the unmanly and boorish Collin in two outstanding qualities. He was at least 30 years older and his nose was four times the size. And so it was that the very next morning, Justice Omar Tan, went his way toward the house of Madame Manon, carrying with him the pitcher, his noble purpose and his oversize preposterous. Please, you shall see, you shall see gifts for the beautiful Marietta. Aye, the Justice Omar Tan. The Justice of Nampool. There is whole nothing too costly, nothing. Ah, and so, my lovely Marietta, allow me to place this wondrous pitcher upon your table and may my humble heart hear at your feet your feet, there it is. Oh, Marietta, this is the pitcher. The pitcher, my child, and along with it, dear Justice Omar Tan has laid his nose, I mean his heart at your feet. What do you say, child? What do you say, child? I can say only this. I refuse to accept your pitcher, your heart, or your nose. The modest, shy little cook head. How she adores me. How could she help it, Monsieur la Justice? You need not worry about a thing. I deem it an honour to accept you as my pitcher. I mean my son-in-law. As anyone with even half an eye can plainly see, whatever romance may be hinted at in this tale has already been disposed of. So we may now proceed without further ado to confine ourselves solely to the story of the pitcher. Now, every morning Marietta would take the wondrous pitcher down to the spring to wash it and to fill it with wild flowers. And Justice regularly, every morning on a rock beside the spring she would find the most beautiful nose gay of the rarest of flowers. Under the stalks would be tied a slip of paper with only the words, dear Marietta, written upon it. This, of course, was most annoying to her. For what could be more vexatious to a young and beautiful maid particularly one betrothed to the Justice or Matin, than to receive such lovely offerings of flowers from an unknown admirer? But then one morning, rising earlier than usual, she came skipping down the path toward the spring to resolve the mystery. There is someone sleeping beside the spring. It is a man. And beside him lies a nose gay of flowers. Well, I should have known because he was being annoying me, torturing my curiosity, teasing me with those flowers because he... he hates me. Well, I shall most certainly repay him for his ill will. He shall be disgraced forever. I do not like having to take time aside from my story concerning a picture to relate the horrible revenge wreaked upon the malicious Colleen by the lovely Marietta. But these people who constantly intrude upon my plot must be disposed of someway. So I shall tell you. She took the violet-colored silk and ribbon from her hat, threw it tightly around the sleeper's arm, tied Colleen fast to the nearest tree. To teach him he cannot behave so outrageously toward me. Avoid me, will he? Stammer when he speaks to me, will he? Insult me by leaving those lovely, beautiful, gorgeous flowers for me every morning, will he? Well, how astonished he will be when he awakes. How his curiosity will plague and torment him. And it will only serve him right. Our false Marietta's hopes play her. For that very day Colleen practiced new mischief. He shamed Marietta publicly by binding her band around his hat and wearing it so all the village would see that he had made a conquest. For Marietta had forgotten that everyone in that pool knew her violet-colored ribbon, including the justice Omar Tan. Reprobate! How did you allow this? How? How, how, how? Oh, yes, yes indeed. How? I can imagine my betrothed. The betrothed of justice Omar Tan. Justice of all in a pool. That is, presenting her hatband to this, this Calibre Collère. It is high time we celebrated our nuptials. Yes, high time. I, I, I quite agree, monsieur. Quite agree. It is high time. More than high time. You shall be married at once. That is excellent, that is excellent. There is, however, one tiny detail that remains in the way, so minor I hate to mention it. It really is not worthy of discussion, yet so far Marietta has refused to give her consent. Oh, has she really? Well, I shall speak to the child. If she can accept your picture, she can accept your nose in marriage. Alas for Mother Manor's hopes, she failed utterly to take an important consideration into consideration. That this is not a love story, but a tale about a picture. Therefore, we shall follow Marietta as she goes the following morning and regularly wash the wondrous translucent porcelain about which we are telling. Now, when she arrived there, it was quite early. No flowers as yet had been placed on the rock, so she washed the picture and balanced it on the rock. And waiting. It was almost as though she was waiting for... waiting for... Well, waiting for what we are hearing now. Good morning, Colour. Oh, uh... Good morning, Marietta. Why did you wear it, Colour? What, wear it? Yes, my ribbon. Your ribbon? Must you always make mark of me, Colour? Rudely stammering and stuttering like that? Marietta, I... Well, you see that that is... Yes, I see very clearly. Your dislike for me is so great you cannot even bring yourself to speak to me. All I ask is that you return my ribbon and we shall say no more. Return? But did you not... not give it to me? No. You did not? Well, yes. But you should not have worn it so openly. Give it back to me, please. Oh, Marietta. Give it back, please. All right, Marietta. Here. My foot just... Goodbye, Marietta. Goodbye. My story is over. The story of the wondrous picture perches to the vast sphere and which met its end at the hand of the stumbling foot of the spiteful Colour. Of course, there are a few minor points to be clarified before I close. For instance, the justice that was rendered the guilty Colour when he was hailed into court on Madame Manol's complaint. Well, prisoner, you have heard the complaints? You have heard the complaints? What do you have to say, eh? What do you have to say? Nothing, sir. I ask only Marietta's forgiveness as I forgive her. Forgive me? For what do I require forgiveness, pray? Yes, for one. I broke your picture unintentionally, Marietta, but you... you broke my heart. Broke your... broke your heart. Well then, the prisoner stands self-accused. Yes, Marietta, for I thought you had given me the ribbon from your heart as I had given you the flowers from mine. Yes, yes, indeed. But you, therefore, we shall render the verdict. Oh, thank you. Yes, the verdict will... Of course, Marietta, I thought you knew. But... but how could I? Therefore, as the justice, oh, Martin, justice of all Nippur, that is, I find you, Mr. Colath, the sum of 100 leaves, the exact worth of the broken picture. Did I not purchase the picture for you at the fair, Marietta? Did that not tell you anything? You? You bought the picture? Yes, but for the sum of 100 leaves, I... the fine, the fine, yes, the fine should be 100 leaves. But the justice, oh, Martin... Yes, the justice, oh, Martin, said the fine should be 100 leaves. That is what he said. Yes, didn't he? So, now everything is clear, then you took the box from Jacques, oh, Martin, and gave the presence of Marietta claiming that it was from you. Baby, well, the fact of the matter is, you see, I... I thought... Well, I was... So, that is the kind of man who dispenses justice in a pool well. The governor shall hear of this. The governor? Well, now, no need to be hasty, eh? There's no need to be hasty, no need at all. I... I do not find cause for complaint here. No complaint whatsoever. Well, I have cause for complaint. Why? Why did you not tell me of your feeling sooner, Coulomb? How could I, Marietta? When I feared and trembled with love and anxiety, when I beheld you, when I'd not have the courage to approach, when I was so miserable near you and more miserable away from you. And I... was clashed with the thought that that though I loved you so dearly and for all so long, you... you hated me. Hated you? Well, when my soul has lived with yours always, when I... when... Oh, Marietta. Oh, my darling Coulomb. Well, now, my dearest friend, Coulomb, about talking to the governor, I mean, and if you... you know, this is the... Oh, forgive me, my friend, you're busy. Oh, most busy. Ah, the justice, oh, Marietta. Justice of all in a pool. That is, do you hear by declare the case of the broken picture? Dismissed. You see, it is entirely possible to tell most interesting stories about other things than young love. Stories, for example, about a... a broken picture. This is Jean Taney again. We at Family Theatre wish to express again our gratitude for your letters of appreciation and criticism of our Family Theatre productions. It is, we know, not always convenient for you to write to us, but we ask that you be conscious of the fact that our satisfaction receiving your letters is not only reflected in the productions of stories that you want to hear, but is gratifying in that it proves to us that the purpose of this program is being met. A purpose which has but one goal. Family prayer. If this goal can be brought about by good entertainment, stories that you want to hear, then we are encouraged in our purpose. Family prayer is not solely the province of adults, but it serves as the best example we can provide our children. For children should be taught to pray, and they learn best by seeing and doing. That is why week after week we ask you to pray. Pray together as a family. And that is why week after week we sum up our purpose with a statement that a family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. This adaptation of Jarkis Classic was written by Sydney Marshall with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theater by Jaime Del Valle. These broadcasts are made possible by the thousands of you who felt 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 have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. You're 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 when Family Theater will present J. Carol Nash and Harley Bear in the life of Phineas T. Barnum. Join us, won't you? Family Theater is broadcast to listeners throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.