 Lux presents Hollywood. Lever Brothers Company, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, bring you the Lux Radio Theatre, starring Carrie Grant and Irene Dunn in Mr. Blanding's Bilge's Dream House. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. William Keely. Things from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. No two stars have given so many performances that honestly rate the word classic as Irene Dunn and Carrie Grant. And tonight we've reunited this famous team in a comedy as timely as today's headlines. It's the RKO picture, Mr. Blanding's Bilge's Dream House. You know, almost everyone has had a housing problem at some time or other, and the Blandings had their troubles even as you and I. In fact, they had so much trouble, their story became a hit-motion picture. You know, you have your idea of a dream house and your neighbor has another, but one thing is certain. Any well-run dream house will include a supply of the new bass size Lux Toilet Soap. Whatever the arguments about architecture, most people agree Lux Soap is perfect. Now here's the curtain for Mr. Blanding's Bilge's Dream House, starring Carrie Grant in his original screen role as Jim and Irene Dunn as Muriel. Like millions of other New Yorkers, Jim and Muriel Blandings and their two young daughters are cliff dwellers. Home to them is an apartment, oh, adequate but somewhat crowded. Not that Jim isn't doing well, he's a college graduate, makes 15,000 a year in the advertising business. Anyway, on this crisp September morning, Jim Blandings has just staggered out of bed and commenced a typical 7 o'clock ritual. You're looking for something, dear? Oh, you're awake. I'm looking for my socks. Why don't you look in your sock drawer? That's where I found my underwear. Why don't you try your underwear drawer? I am in my underwear drawer now. Hardly enough, it's full of underwear. Or yours. Well, socks just don't get up and walk away by themselves, dear. Muriel, now look, I thought we had it clearly understood that the four bottom drawers were yours and these two top drawers were mine. The closet. Huh? That's where they are. We put them in the closet. Put what in the closet? Your socks, Gussie and I decided that from now on we'll keep them in a basket on the shelf. Oh, basket, basket in the closet. Well, where is the basket? Right there on the shelf, dear. Under my hatboxes in the overnight bag. Oh, oh, yeah. Jim, dear, I do wish you'd try to make a little more effort. Well, I'll try, dear. Now, look at that. Muriel, Muriel, maybe if you put the basket on top of the hatboxes instead of underneath the hatboxes. Now, Jim, Jim, just go out and tell Gussie to give you a nice cup of coffee. I'll try and get the girls out of the bathroom. Oh, thank you, Muriel. I'm sorry. I'll feel better after a cup of coffee. Oh, excuse me, Jim, my face cream. It's in the medicine cabinet. I'll be through shaving in a minute. It's all right. I can reach it. Ouch! Oh! Did you cut yourself? I cut myself every morning. I kind of look forward to it. Well, let's see now. There's Betsy's vitamins. Oh, take your time, dear. I can spare the blood. Why don't you get an electric razor? You can't get used to them. That's silly. Bill Cole's been using an electric razor for years. He hasn't got my beard. Bill's beard is just as coarse and tough. I am not interested in discussing the grain and texture of Bill Cole's hair follicles before I've had my orange juice. All I said was, why don't you use an electric razor? Because I prefer the clean sweep of the tempered steel as it glides smoothly over my... No advertising. Please, please. Just hurry, dear. You'll be late for breakfast. All right, girls. Who did it? Who tore a piece out of my morning newspaper? Well... I'm sorry, Father. It's part of my research for school. Oh, I see. Another mistel wagon so-called progressive projection. Now, Jim, Jim, there just isn't any point in sending your children to an expensive school if you're going to undermine the teacher's authority in your own dining room. I am not undermining anything. I'm in the advertising business and keeping abreast of the times is important to me. Bicker, bicker, bicker. You drink your milk. Every time your father and I have a lively discussion, dear, it doesn't necessarily mean we're bickering. Miss Stelwagen says that advertising is crass commercialism in its lowest form. Oh, oh, she does, does she? Perhaps your Miss Stelwagen is right. Perhaps I should quit this crass commercialism, which at this very moment is paying for your fancy tuition. Those extra French lessons. That progressive summer camp to say nothing of the very braces on your back teeth. Jim, I wish you wouldn't discuss money in front of the children. Why not? They spend enough of it. Bicker, bicker, bicker. All right, girls, get your things now and run along. Yeah, let's go, Betsy. Goodbye, Daddy. Give my regards to Miss Stelwagen. Anyway, you're still the nicest father I've ever had. Hiya, kids. Bill, we haven't seen you in ages. Sorry, Billy. Well, good morning. What are you doing here? Oh, just thought I'd stop by and return these sketches, Muriel. Coffee? Yeah, thanks. Now, personally, I think Funkhauser is two or three thousand dollars out of line. Of course, you could save that amount by not tearing out the living room wall. What are you talking about? Who's Funkhauser? Oh, Bunny Funkhauser, dear. Who? You know that clever young interior decorator we met at the Collins cocktail party. Uh, you mean that young man with the open-toed sandals? What about him? What about him? You know how long we've always said we must do something about fixing up this apartment. Well, Bunny has some simply darling ideas. Uh-huh. And what kind of ideas? Well, I didn't want to bother you until I knew whether we could afford it or not, so I... How much? What's the point in asking how much, dear, until you know what you're going to get? I've seen Bunny Funkhauser. I know what I'm going to get. Well, I think he's got some fairly interesting sketches here. Uh-huh. Just look at this drawing, Jim. Here's how Bunny sees our living room. Isn't it charming? Uh-huh. What's that thing there? A shoe shine stand? No. It's a cobbler's bench, dear. Oh. You see, the whole room's colonial. Breakfront hook rug, students' lamp, pie cooler, and over here, a moth of Washington desk. Where do I keep my powdered wig? Oh, I think it's perfect. It's us. Bunny says we're very American, very grass roots, very blueberry pie. Oh, well, don't look at me, Jim. Bunny said it. How much is all this going to cost? Well, $7,000. $7,000? Well, that includes tearing off the wall, but I quite agree with Bill. Oh, you do? Well, you're some lawyer, Bill. A defenseless woman without the slightest conception of the value of a dollar to ask for advice in the next minute, you've got to tearing our walls. $7,000. I wouldn't put seven cents into this broken-down rack trap. How can you talk that way, Jim? This is our home. Why, Joan was practically born in this apartment. That does not make it a national shrine. Oh, now wait a minute. I thought I was doing you a favor. And you were, Bill. He was just showing you how you could save $3,000 by simply not tearing off the wall. You could save $7,000 by not doing anything at all. Well, then, that's that, isn't it? $7,000. Blueberry pie. Have you seen my hat, Muriel? It's in the whole closet, dear, where it always is. I'll get it for you. Yes, Mr. Blanding. Hello, Mary. Well, I guess the boss would want to see the layouts on wham-hand. There, here on your desk, Mr. Blanding. Oh, thank you. When you've got the whim, say wham. Oh, my. For a grand slam in hand, try wham. Oh, Mary, I didn't really write that, did I? A man's got to make a living, Mr. Blanding. Well, maybe Miss Stellwagen's right. Hmm? Oh, nothing. It's just a private joke between me and whoever's going to be my analyst. Mary, tell me, would you spend $7,000 to tear out somebody else's walls? Would I hold? Well, especially when for a few thousand more you could fix up a nice old place someplace. You know, somewhere like Connecticut, maybe. Yeah. And have the kind of dream house you've always wanted. Well, frankly, I never had... Mary, get me the phone numbers of a few of those suburban real estate men. Oh, and call Mrs. Blanding's. Tell her to keep this weekend open for a nice drive out to the Connecticut countryside. They just drove up, Pop. That couple from New York. Mr. and Mrs. Blanding's. Good, good. What places are you going to show them, Pop? Oh, three or four, son. And then I'll show them the hacky place. Oh, no. Not the old hacky place. The old, old hacky place. Son, you ain't been learning much about the real estate business. But Pop, the hacky place, it's falling apart. It, it leans. Hmm. Make it great old place, son. Just the thing for the Blanding. Some steel, huh? Steel is an understatement. Swindle might be a little more appropriate, huh? You've been taken to the cleaners, my friend, and you don't even know your pants are off. Oh, darling, I told you. I said we ought to consult Bill before we buy it. Well, what's so wrong with this deal? Ten thousand dollars for fifty acres and only fifteen hundred for the house. That's two hundred dollars an acre. One hundred dollars an acre is standard top-guage price to city slickers. When the natives sell it to each other, it's around forty or less. Forty? Tim! The man's entitled to a fair profit. Not two hundred and eighty-four percent. Now, we're going to write this fella and tell him he can really do no such thing. You just don't understand business. You mean extortion. Jim, dear, now maybe Bill's right. Just a minute. Let me explain something to both of you. For fifteen years, I've been cooped up in this four-room cracker box. Just getting shaved here entitles a man to the purple heart. That still doesn't make this hack a place a goodbye. Now, look, Bill. Muriel and I have found what I'm not ashamed to call our dream house. Why, it's like a fine painting. You buy with your heart, now with your head. You don't ask how much was the paint, how much was the canvas. You look at it and you say, ah, it's beautiful. I want it. And if it costs a few more pennies, you pay it in gladly because you love it. And you don't measure the things you love in dollars and cents. Well, anyway, that's the way I feel about it. Well, it's your money, I suppose. Now, when I sign those papers on Saturday, I can look the world in the face and say it's mine. My house. My home. My acres. Our house, darling. Our home. Our acres. It's a windy day, isn't it? Well, this is it, Bill. The dream house on Nightmare Alley. And no remarks. The house just needs someone to love it, that's all. It's a good thing that our two of you want to love the house and want to hold it up. Jim, Jim, look. There's something blowing off the roof. Oh, it looks like shingles. What did your engineer say when he checked that roof? Our engineer. Who needs engineers? This isn't a train, you know. That house is moving. I just saw it move. This house has been standing since the second year of the Continental Congress. You take one, look at it, and shingles start to drop. Now, look, do me one favor, will you? I've got a client. He's a crack-a-jack structural engineer. Joe Apollonio. I'll be right back, Muriel. Just want to measure that fireplace again. Not that it's any of my business, Muriel, but how are you and Jim paying for this place? Well, we're cashing in our government bonds, and Mr. Hackett's taking a $6,000 mortgage. Well, could be worse. And as long as you and Jim love it so much... I think you'd better get in touch with Mr. Apollonio. We've come to you, Mr. Sims. After Mr. Apollonio saw the house, we got our own expert, Mr. Murphy, and then Mr. Gillis. But they all said the same thing. Yeah, tear it down. Well, as an architect, I'm inclined to agree with them. Of course, you can remodel, but for what it would cost you, why you can have a fine new house. Hmm, a new house, huh? Yes, something like this, for instance. Now, in this sketch here... No, no, no, no. I don't think we're all ready to commit ourselves. Oh, no, no. But if we were to consider building, I can tell you there's one thing we'd have to have, Mr. Sims. Plenty of closets. Well, if I might make a suggestion... And bathrooms. Each bedroom must have at least one bathroom. You see, Mr. Sims, our problem is... I made a drawing of exactly what I mean, Mr. Sims. A little playroom for the basement, you see? Nothing tremendous, just a little something to do. And I've always wanted a sewing room, Mr. Sims. A little utility room upstairs, where I could be alone and sew or her sulk on a rainy afternoon. Yes, but I think I'd better point out... Off the kitchen, a little flower sink with a stone floor and shelves for vases and gardening things. Maybe a little closet. Sure, sure. Why not? Now, over here... My idea, Mr. Blandings. Now, in the first place, you've got the upstairs about three times as big as the downstairs. There you see, Muriel? It's all those bathrooms. Nonsense. It's all those closets. And by extending the breakfast room, you've eliminated the possibility of any stairs going up to the second floor. No stairs. Oh. Now, is it absolutely necessary for each of your daughters to have her own room with two closets and a private bathroom? Yes, you see, our daughters are approaching womanhood. Well, I didn't realize they were approaching it quite so fast. Now, what about that city flower sink and that sewing room? That could go... I beg your pardon. What we need is a major savings. Now, a simple bathroom, Mrs. Blandings, costs about $1,300. Now, if you could do with just one less bathroom... No, no, I refuse to endanger the health of my children in a house with less than four bathrooms. For $1,300, they can live in a house with only three bathrooms and rough it. Look, suppose I go ahead with some preliminary plans, and then we can get together in about a week's time. Yes, you do that, Mr. Sims, but just don't forget, we've got to hold it down under $10,000. That, I can tell you right now, is impossible. Oh. Oh, well, I guess we're not going to quibble about a few pennies one way or another. Oh, by the way, Mr. Blandings, do you do anything in mind as to how you'd like the old place taken down? Why don't we just go out there and blow on it? Just in time. You and your eye are going over the plains. In here, Bill, in the dining room. Well, so you've torn down the old house, huh? The most practical thing we ever did. Uh-huh. How much did that cost? Well, $1,400. Now, never mind, Bill. I bet we've got the nicest vacant lot in the state of Connecticut. Well, you're old. He's done it again. I'm waiting for you. What did I do? Now, once, just once, why don't you come to me and find out if it's all right, if it's legal, before you run yourself smack into another jam. Oh, Jim, what's happened? What's Bill talking about? I don't know. He won't tell me. All you did was tear down a house in which another man happens to own a mortgage without first getting his written permission. Well, what's that got to do... No. Yeah. Oh. And in such cases, the mortgagee can demand full payment of said mortgage. Oh, Jim. And Mr. Hackett so demands 6,000 clams. Oh, my. 6,000 dollars. Well, I guess I can turn in my insurance policies. Oh, no, Jim. No, you can't do that. Well, why not? Well, if anything should happen, the children would be left unprotected. I'm not dead yet. Oh, of course you're not. I'll see the boys at the bank. You can put up your insurances collateral. If necessary, I'll sign a personal note. Uh-huh. Thanks, Bill. Sure. Well, I've got her on along. Good night, Mary. Good night, Bill. Let you know what the bank says, Squire. What a wonderful friend. Hmm. Hmm. Uh, what's with all this kissing all of a sudden? He comes in, you kiss him. He goes out, you kiss him. Well, what's wrong with that? Well, just because a man is helpful in the business way, he doesn't give him extra curricular privileges with my wife. That's a fine thing to say about a friend of 15 years. Well, if he were 15, I wouldn't mind. He's 41. Every time he shakes my hand, he kisses you. Would you prefer it the other way round? Well, why is he always hanging around? Why doesn't he go out and get married or something? Because he can't find another girl as pretty and sweet and wholesome as I am. Oh, darling, let's not be silly about this. It isn't Bill that's upsetting you. It's the house. Yeah, I suppose so. Muriel, do you think it's worth all this? Of course it is. It isn't a house we're building, Jim. It's a home for ourselves and our children and maybe our children's children. Yeah, each with two closets and a private bath. In a moment, we'll bring you act two of Mr. Blanding's Bill's's Dream House. Here's our Hollywood reporter, Libby Collins. Libby, I see Darrel F. Zannick made another outstanding picture for 20th Century Fox. You mean Pinky, of course, Mr. Keely. I don't know when I've seen anything that touched me so deeply. It's an honest portrayal of an American problem. The story of a light-skinned Negro girl who gives up personal happiness in order to aid her own people. Certainly a compelling drama. Jean Crane, as Pinky, has a difficult assignment and she handles it with great skill. You know, the whole cast seems so exactly right. Ethel Barramore is superb as the Southern Lady of the Manor. And William Lundigan plays the Northern Doctor with the authority the part demands. I'm glad to see Jean Crane step into a really mature role and do it proud. A remarkable young star, isn't she? And what fresh, delicate beauty she has. You might call her the Lux Lovely type, Libby. Oh, not John, but you're right. Because Jean is certainly devoted to her Lux soap beauty care. And why she's pleased with that big new bath cake. It's so luxurious, she says. That's just the word for it, Libby. A generous, satin, smooth cake with a flower-like fragrance. No wonder screen stars tell us that now their Lux soap beauty bath is more delightful than ever. That big, longer-lasting bath cake makes a fine item to put on a family shopping list. And you can be sure the man of the house will like it, too. I just know he will. Men go for a bath soap they don't have to coax into a lather. Even in hard water you get lots of rich creamy lather with Lux toilet soap. It's perfect for shower or tub. So why not let the whole family enjoy this luxury bath cake. The new bath-size Lux toilet soap. Now, our producer, Mr. William Keely. Act two of Mr. Blanding's Bill's dream house starring Irene Dunn as Muriel and Cary Grant as Jim. Well, it's a few days later and in the office of Mr. Sims, the architect, Jim and Muriel Blanding's hear the latest report on their dream house. To wit and estimate. $18,000. That's ridiculous, Mr. Sims. Well, frankly, with all those extras you've insisted on it. But we've only asked for the barest necessities. Never mind, dear. It no longer matters. Now, if you'll just send us a bill for your services. Mr. Blanding's. Now, in the first place, I'm going out to have my head examined. And then I'm going to find the owner of our apartment house and sign a 20-year lease. Goodbye. Well, if you feel that strongly about it. I'm afraid we do, Mr. Sims. I'm sorry if we've... Jim. Jim, look. Hmm? Oh, there. Yes, I took the liberty of making a sort of a finished sketch of the house in watercolor. It even has our name on it. Residence of Mr. and Mrs. James Blanding's Shrunk Mills Connecticut. Ah, it's beautiful. Residence of Mr. and Mrs. James... Mr. Sims, do you really think you could keep it to $18,000? Well, well, well, well, well, well. Let's pull up some chairs, shall we? That's some excavation, huh? Oh, what's going on over there? Oh, that's Mr. Tisander. We're digging our well. Been here since Monday at $4.50 a foot. I think I'd better have a little talk with Mr. Tisander. Good morning. Yep. How's it coming? Oh, it's coming. How far down are you? About 150 feet. Isn't that pretty deep? Yeah. Well, haven't you hit anything at all yet? Hit some limestone yesterday. That's good. That's bad. Oh. And right now, it looks like we're coming in some shale. And that's good. Of course, it might turn out to be sandstone. That's bad. Can't tell. Might be good. Might be bad. Oh, I see. Thank you. Thank you. Just for the record, Mr. Tisander, what's happened to the water? Oh, it's there all right. Just cut me patient. I promise you the layout's no later than Monday, Mr. Blanding. Okay, Mary. Please type up that copy. Right. I'm sorry, Bill, but I've got to work once in a while, you know? That's why I'm here. You see, I happen to be closeted with your boss about a little legal work, and he just happened to mention that you haven't come up with one good slogan for wham-ham. What's he worrying about? The deadline's months away. Besides, you don't... Oh, just a minute. Hello? Yeah? Okay, put her on. Muriel Bill, she's out in Connecticut. Yes, Muriel? What? What? Tisander struck water. Say, that's wonderful, dear. Hey, Bill, we've got our well. Congratulations. What's that, Muriel? What do you mean we've got two wells? Oh! Oh! Well, I'll be right out. Say, how could we have two wells? I can't wait to find out. Let's go. And when Mr. Zuko was excavating, huh? That's what Mr. Ratch says. That's right, folks. Why, Zuko almost drowned. So we've hit a spring, a spring of clear, cold, bubbling mountain water right here in our cellar. Well, I can't pour a bag of cement until the water's diverted. Well, hello, Mr. Tisander. Oh, how dear? You see, Mr. Tisander, water. Yep. At six feet. Yep. And just over there, you had to go down 227 feet to hit the same water. Yep. Now, how do you account for that, Mr. Tisander? Well, way appears to me, Mr. Blandings. Over here, the water's down only six feet. But over there, it's down around 227 feet. Yep. You got nothing to worry about, Mr. Blandings. Once we get the pumps here, your house will go up in no time. Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Hey, what's happened to that steam shovel? Huh? Well, is something wrong, Mr. Zuko? Oh, no, no. I just broke my bucket, that's all. Oh, you hit a boulder, huh? That's an old boulder, that's a ledge. Never forget this moment. My family about to cross the threshold of our first real home. I'm sure glad we got kicked out of that apartment. Hey, I don't hear any work, month. Oh, it's Saturday afternoon, only the painters are working. Well, aren't we going in? Well, don't be in such a hurry. You know, dear, Betsy's right, it is a big moment. And I'm going to carry you across the threshold. Oh, Jim, how sweet. Watch that sacroiliac pop. It's been 15 years since you've tried anything. That's all you know about it. No, no, no. Huh? You better put me down. Can't you read us something? The sign says wet paint. I haven't touched anything. Your feet are touching something, ain't they? The floor. I just got through punishing the floor. Well, put some planks down or something. How do you expect us to live here? Okay, Mac, okay, take it easy. The Republicans ain't in yet, you know. Wait till I see Sims about this. Well, we'll see Sims about that, too. What time did he say he'd be here? Well, I think maybe he's here now, darling. He and Mr. Rich, I think they're all in the back. He's got a few bills here. I'd like... What about our windows, Mr. Rich? Well, I think I can answer that, Mr. Blandings. There's been a little slip up. Oh, the windows were delivered all right. Only they weren't the right windows. Those windows belong to Mr. Blandings. In Fischkiel, I just phoned them. You mean he's got our windows? Well, no, Mrs. Blandings. It seems Mr. Blandings has some windows that belong to Mr. Blandsworth and Peekskiel. But where are our windows? Well, as near as we can find out, they've either been sent to Mr. Banning and Stamford or to Mr. Ginsberg and Waterbury. How did Ginsberg get into this? Well, what are we supposed to do, gentlemen? Spend the rest of our lives in a house without windows? Just a matter of a few days, Mrs. Blandings. Now, about that rub-dub-water-soften-r. For what? Rub-dub-water-soften-r. Well, now, how would I know about that? Oh, because you've got one, Mrs. Blandings. Furnished and installed for $285. Well, I didn't order it. Well, I'm afraid I did, Mrs. Blandings. You see, to save your water pipes. The plumber assured me that the water in your well is the most corrosive in his entire experience in the trade. Another first. Well, uh, send me the bill. You've got it. I left it on the kitchen sink. Well, all right, then. Oh, uh, Pedelford's coming this afternoon. Who authorized a Pedelford? Now, first I get a rub-dub-in-r. Pedelford. He's the painting contractor. Mr. Pedelford, I wanted to see him. Oh, oh, oh, well, okay. Well, just get him over here. Pedelford. The living room here. I want it to be a soft green, Mr. Pedelford. Uh-huh. Not a blue green, like a robin's egg. No. And yet not as yellow as daffodil butt. Uh-huh. Now, the only sample I could get is a little too yellow. But don't let whoever does it go to the other extreme get it too blue. No. It should be just a sort of a grayish yellow green. Uh-huh. Now, the dining room, I'd like yellow. Not just yellow, but very gay yellow. Something bright and sunshiny. Uh-huh. I tell you what you do, Mr. Pedelford, you just ask that man who's varnishing the floors in there to go down to the grocer and get a pound of their very best butter. And you just mash that butter exactly and you can't go wrong. Now, here, here's the wallpaper we're going to use in the hall. It's flowered. But I don't want the ceiling to match any of the colors of the flower. No. No. There are some little dots in the background. See? Now, it's those little dots I want you to match. Now, I don't want those greenish dots near the hollyhock, please. No. I want those little blueish dots there between the rosebud and the Delphidium blossom. Clear? Uh-huh. Now, the kitchen, the kitchen's to be white. But not a cold and a septic. Hospital white, you know. No. I want something, something warmer, Mr. Pedelford. But still not to suggest any other color but white. Now, for the powder room, I brought you a piece of thread. And I want you to match it exactly. And don't lose it. I had an awful time finding it. Now, as you see, the color of the thread is like an apple red. It's somewhere between a healthy wine sap and an unripened Jonathan. Dear, dear. You have to excuse me. Now, I've got to meet a friend of ours at the station. Hey, Charlie. It's OK, boss. I've been listening. Did you get everything? Sure. Red, green, blue, yellow, and white. Check. Where's Mother Daddy? I can't find her. Huh? Oh, she drove Bill cold down to the station. She'll be back soon. Oh. Well, go unpack another barrel. Help Gussie or something. I just finished a barrel. And look what I found, Daddy. Uncle Bill's fraternity pin and Mother's diary while she was in college. It's slightly torn. Oh. Now, that's none of your business. Now, just put that diary down and unpack something else. I'd say Mother and Uncle Bill were somewhat of an item. People do not read other people's diaries. It's not a very nice thing to do. Dear diary. Tonight, Bill and I drove out the Stover's Point. As we sat there in the moonlight, he started holy smoke. No need to be so irritable, dear. Well, sometimes a man just doesn't feel like talking. Oh, something wrong with the office? No. Got the new slogan for wham? It's not due yet. Well, you're certainly upset about something. It's just that I don't happen to approve a falsehood and deception. What are you talking about? Oh, nothing. But I distinctly remember you're telling me that you returned Bill Coles fraternity pin 15 years ago. What? Well, did you or didn't you? Did I or didn't I have what? Give it back to him. Of course I did. If I said I did, I did. Ah. Well, then perhaps you'll have the goodness to explain how this happened to fall out of your jewel box. Bill. What's so funny? You. You're jealous. If you were so crazy about the guy, why didn't you marry him? Because I wasn't in love with him. That's not what you said in your diary. My what? It just happened to fall open and I happened to look at it. It just happened. Yeah, I'll just bet. Well, it's all over the book. You were in love with Bill Coles. Oh, don't be absurd. Of course I was in love with Bill. In those days I was in love with a new man every week. Then why did you marry me? I'm beginning to wonder. It is those big cow eyes of yours. That ridiculous hole in your chin. Maybe I knew you were going to bring me out to this $38,000 ice box with no windows. Maybe I just happened to fall in love with you, but for heaven's sake, don't ask me. Why? What are you doing down there on the floor? Trying to sleep. The moving men forgot our bed. Oh. What time is it? Um, half past 12. Thank you. I guess I fell asleep downstairs. Muriel, would it do any good to say I'm sorry? I don't know. Well, I am. I behave like a schoolboy and I'm sorry. Jim? Jim, if you hadn't kissed me tonight, I guess I just would have died. Why do I love you so much? I guess awfully late. Maybe you ought to go downstairs and lock the doors. What for? The windows are all open anyway. I had to get up at five o'clock, you know. Five o'clock? But why? I forgot to tell you, dear. The railroad just put in a new schedule. Oh. Well, that means I'll be at the office before eight. Yeah, but if you get there earlier, maybe you can leave earlier. To get home earlier, to go to bed earlier, to get up earlier. Jim? Yes, dear? Good night, dear. Good night. Pause now for station identification. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. In a few moments, we return with a third act of Mr. Blanding's bill's his dream house. We always like to tell a success story, and tonight's heroine is Miss Marilyn Mercer, formerly a messenger girl at RKO, and now a full-fledged starlet at the same studio. How did it all happen, Marilyn? Well, I was answering telephones in the commissary when my big chance came for a screen test, Mr. Keely, and that was just the beginning. Whenever I watched a picture being filmed, I realized how much I have to learn. You had a chance to see some fine acting in RKO's new production, I Married a Communist. Yes, indeed. There's a tense drama for you, particularly Robert Ryan in the role of a former communist who discovers that he can't escape from the party. He makes you feel the terror of their relentless pursuit as only a fine actor can. Yes, and Lorraine Day brings warmth and understanding to the part of the bewildered wife in I Married a Communist, a most appealing actress. Isn't she, though? She's a favorite with everyone, and she's so lovely to look at. As you might expect, Mr. Kennedy, she's a luxe girl and a very enthusiastic one. Another famous star who finds that luxe soap care really works, eh? Well, now that luxe toilet soap comes in the convenient bass size, she thinks it's more wonderful than ever. And so do I, Mr. Kennedy. The latter is so rich and creamy, and I love the nice perfume it leaves on my skin. That luxe soap perfume is an exclusive blend of many costly ingredients. Like a bouquet of flowers, you know. A light, delicate fragrance that appeals to fastidious women. For a quick beauty pickup, I count on my luxe soap bath. It's so refreshing. Thank you, Ms. Marilyn Mercer. And now, a suggestion for our listeners everywhere. Try this fine new product of Lever Brothers Company. The new bath size luxe toilet soap. Remember, it's the fragrant white cake nine out of ten screen stars recommend for top-to-toe loveliness. Here's our producer, Mr. Keely. The curtain rises on the third act of Mr. Blanding's Bill's dream house, starring Cary Grant as Jim and Irene Dunn as Muriel. Mr. Blanding's has built his dream house. And as the bills and the extras stare him in the face, so does the deadline for a new slogan for Wham Ham. It's now nine o'clock on a very wet night. Jim's at the office, up to his elbows in slogans. Is there anything I can type up for you, Mr. Blanding? I can't think of a thing, Mary, except probably my resignation. Well, it sure is raining, isn't it? Yeah. That's funny, Mary, how you look forward to little things. Rain, for instance. For a month now, I've been looking forward to the first rainy night in my new house. Big blazing fire, Muriel pouring coffee. Me and my new smoking jacket with my pipe and slippers reading a good book. Oh, well. Poor Mrs. Blanding. Must get pretty lonesome out there. At night, I mean. And a rainstorm. She's probably worried to death about me. Oh, well, give me some more paper, Mary. Wham! And then out you went and bobbed your hair. Let's see now. That must have been about a month before you married him. And was Jim mad. Oh, once more coffee, Bill. Thanks. Well, I picked a fine night to come calling, didn't I? Rainstorm, Jim in New York. Yes, he's probably worried to death about me. I wonder if my coats dry by now. I'd look a little silly going back in Jim's new smoking jacket. No, I think you look very cute. Oh, thank heavens. Must be the children now. Oh, sister, I'll get it. Coming, coming. Well, it's about time you kid... Oh, you're not the kid. Yeah, I'm Harry Selbiff down the road. Boy, what a storm. Just come by to tell you that the kids are safe, Mr. Blandings. Oh, I'm not Mr. Blandings. I'm Mrs. Blandings, Mr. Selby. Oh, well, how do you do? Mrs. Williams just called my wife to see your telephones out of order. Oh, no. And it just roped off the bridge. It shrunk mills. But my children... Oh, don't you worry about them, Mrs. Blandings. They're spending the night with the Williams. Oh, well, that's a relief. I was just beginning to get quite worried about them. Well, I better get back before I have to swim for them. Good night, Mrs. Blandings. Oh, thank you, Mr. Selby. Oh, not at all. Good night, Mr. Blandings. A call. A bill call. Friend of the family. It just came in out of the rain. Uh-uh. Oh, well, good night. No bridge. How do I get back to civilization? Well, you'll just have to stay here until it stops raining, or they fix the bridge or something. Ah, yeah, I guess I'll have to. Well, get out the cards, Muriel. We can always play gin. Compare the price. Compare the slice. Take our advice by Wham. Oh, now really, Mr. Blandings? I know, I know. No good. All right. Well, here's another. If you'd buy better ham, you'd better buy Wham. But it's just like boil petroleum. You'd buy better oil, you'd better buy boil. Well, it's no use. I can't think anymore. All I've got on my mind is a house with an 18,000 dollars. Mortgage and bills and extras and antiques and the... Oh, I don't know. I just don't know. You going somewhere? Yes. I'm going home. I'm going home to get some sleep. But the slogan, you haven't even gotten it? Well, I suppose I haven't. This isn't the only job in town. But what will you tell Mr. Dascombe? Well, I'll tell Mr. Dascombe to... Well, I don't know. I'll just tell him. Well, good morning. Come in. I know it's a little early to be calling Mrs. Blandings. I just thought I might catch her husband before he left for the office. Oh, I'm sorry, but Jim isn't here. But come on in anyway. We're going to have breakfast in a little while. No, I've already had my... Oh, well, there's Mr. Blandings now getting out of that taxi. Oh, he must be exhausted. He worked all night in the office. You don't say. Jim? Good morning, Deb. How'd it go, darling? Oh, fine, fine, fine. Oh, hello, Sim. Mr. Blandings? Everything all right? Yeah, everything's fine. Well, Sims, what are you doing out here with a morning dew? Well, some extra bills have come in from Rex, and I don't quite understand them. Really? What are they? Oh, a few of the things are all right, I guess. Now, here's an item, mortising five butts at $1.98. Oh, well, that's not quibble about it. The man's entitled to mortise a few butts now, and then... Oh, and this one here, extra hardware, $9.18. Mm-hmm. Petty Lars' neighbor. Let him get away with it. Now, here's one that, frankly, I don't understand at all. Changes in the closet $1,247. Well, he probably taught... $1,200 in what? $47. Oh, that's the end. What closet? What changes? Well, it just did. It isn't a closet at all. It's Mrs. Blandings' little flower sink. You didn't authorize any changes, did you, Mrs. Blandings? Well, they certainly weren't changes. Muriel, what have you done? I haven't done anything. All I did was... Oh, my goodness, nothing at all. What have you done? Well, all I did was... One day I saw four pieces of flagstone left over from the porch that were just going to be thrown away. Nobody wanted them, and I asked Mr. Wretch if he wouldn't just put them down on the floor of the flower room and poke a little cement in between the cracks and give me a nice stone floor where it might get wet from flowers and things, and that's absolutely all I did. Mm-hmm. That's all you did? Absolutely. Just four little pieces of flagstone. Did you by any chance authorize a drain? Of course I didn't. There was, I wanted a nice dry stone floor, and Mr. Wretch was just as nice as he could be. What did Mr. Wretch say? Well, all he said was, well, you're the doctor, Mrs. Blandings, and that was all anybody said to anybody about anything. Oh, well, I think I can tell you just about what happened. You see, those planks run under the entire width of the pantry so that Wretch had to knock out the bottom of the pantry wall to get at it. Then he had to chop off the top of the joists under the flower sink to make room for the cradle. But all I said was... And then with the added load on the weakened joists, I'll bet he had to put a lally column down there for support. Oh, I bet. But it was just four little pieces of flagstone, and I only asked him to... Quiet. Now, the soil pipe runs under there on wall brackets so that Wretch had to get the plumber back. Oh, good morning, Mr. Cole. Good morning. Good morning, Meryl Deer. Good morning, Jim. Oh, hello, Bill. Of course, they're hot and cold. When did you get here? Well, as a matter of fact, last night, I stayed over. Oh, you stayed over. He stayed over. The branch was rolled off. He had to stay. I slept like a rock, too. Just a minute. Why didn't everybody... Wow! What a night I've never seen so much rain in all my natural life. You mean you weren't here last night, Gussie? No, dear. Gussie spent the night in Lansdale. I passed the girls over by the Williams House and it was bland, and they ought to be home any minute now. Thank you, Gussie. Now, you better start breakfast. Yes, ma'am. Right away. Oh, right now, where were we? Why, with the electrician, ripping out 60 feet of armored cable. Right, Mr. Sims? What? Oh, yes. Muriel, you mean the children weren't here last night, either? How could they be, dear? The bridge was closed. I just came across it. It was closed last night. It's open now. Well, if you'll all excuse me, I think I'll glance through the morning paper. Well, I guess that's about the size of it, Mr. Blandings, except that Wretch also had to repair the pantry wall and he couldn't possibly have broken through the wall without... All right, Sims. All right. We'll take care of it. I'll admit it's a little steep. I'll try to get Wretch to knock off $100. If I can't get that, I'll get $75. Well, $50, maybe. Anyway, I'm almost sure we can get $25. Well, good day. Good day. Darling, you're upset. Got a lot of things on your mind. Muriel, there's only one thing I've got on my mind. This house and how soon we can get rid of it. No, that's not what you're thinking. Maybe not. Maybe I was thinking I was once a happy man. I didn't have a closet. I didn't even have free bathrooms. But I did have my sanity, a few thousand dollars in the bank, two children who loved me and a wife I could trust. Oh, that's a fine thing to say. I also had a job at the Descombe Advertising Agency, something I don't happen to have at the moment. Jim. That's right. I'm going to resign. We're starting all over again from scratch and without this house. You love this house. I hate this house. From its mortise butts to its rubbed-up water softener. You know you don't mean that. Every word of it. Anybody who builds a house today is crazy. The minute you start, they put you on the list. They all American sucker list. You start out to build a home and you wind up the poor house. And if it can happen to me, what about the fellas who aren't making 15,000 a year? What about the kids who just got married and want... Now somebody's looking in the window. It's Mr. Tazander. All right, Mr. Tazander. What do you want? Well, at least we can open the door. Hello, Mr. Tazander. Morning. Well, Mr. Blandings, there's a matter of $12.36. No. $12.36. Well, why be a piker, Mr. Tazander? Here, take everything I've got. I'll empty my pockets for you. Take it all. Spread it out amongst your pals. Maybe Wretch would like a little something. Maybe Zooka could use my new smoking jacket. It's open house, Mr. Tazander. Help yourself. Now, Mr. Blandings, hold on. It's $12.36. You don't owe me. I owe you. What was that? Seems that I overcharged you. Almost three feet. Here, Mr. Blandings. I think it's all there. Thank you very much, Mr. Tazander. Well, I guess I'd best be going. My usual got a pretty place here. Take good care of it. Oh, and I'll tell Mr. Zooka about that smoking jacket. Darling, what did you mean? Are we really going to have to sell the house? Oh, I don't know, Muriel. I just don't know anything anymore. In case anyone's interested, I'm leaving for town. Oh, Jim, if you want to count the silverware, I'll wait. Be patient with me, Bill. Maybe one of these days I'll grow up. Hey, what's happened to him? $12.36. Now, do you mind if I say something? You know, ever since this thing started, I've been firmly convinced that you were getting fleeced, built, rocked, slim-flammed, and generally taken to the cleaners. I know, I know. Maybe it has cost you a lot more than you thought it would. But when I look around at what you two have got here, well, I don't know. Maybe there are some things you should buy with your heart, not with your head. Maybe those are the things that really come. Well, see you around. Bye, dear. Bye, Bill. Hi, Uncle Bill. You should have seen the flood last night. Yeah, I heard all about it. I'll bet you had a wonderful time. Well, good morning, children. Good morning, Daddy. Why aren't you at the office? Well, I'm on kind of a vacation, Joan. You mean you got fired? Well, not exactly. We'll discuss this later. Right now we're going to have breakfast. Am I starving? What are we having, Gussie? Orange juice, scrambled eggs, and you know what? Ham, Gussie? Not ham, wham. If you ain't eatin' wham, you ain't eatin' ham. Now, you kids go and wash your hands. Muriel, did you hear what she said? What are you talking about? Gussie, if you ain't eating wham, you ain't eating ham. My slogan, I've got my slogan. Jim, where are you going? I had to telephone desk him and tell Gussie she just got a $10 raise. And so Jim Blandings got his slogan, and he kept his job, and he kept his dream house. If this story has a moral, I'm afraid it's escaped me. Unless it's to always be sure to hire a maid like Gussie. Oh, there's much more of a moral than that, Bill. Yes, Mrs. Blandings? I think it's to own your own home, no matter what. Oh, and ladies, you'll find a flower thing very handy. Now, all you have to do... Muriel. Yes, dear? Don't you dare. The curtain has fallen, but our stars are coming back, and here they are. Irene Dunn and Carrie Grant. Thank you, Bill. It's nice to be here. And, of course, we're delighted to have a famous team like Carrie Grant and Irene Dunn reunited. I mean, he means we're like corned beef and cabbage, or ham and eggs. I think it's more like Laurel and Hardy. In that case, one of us will have to put on some more weight. You two played Mr. and Mrs. Blandings with such conviction that I suspect you've had a similar experience. Am I right, Irene? Well, we did put in a new movie projector at my house and had to knock out a wall, but it was worth all the trouble. Well, how's that? Well, now my daughter's convinced I'm important in pictures. I'm the only one who can run the projector. I'm sure you'd do it just as beautifully as you run your home, Irene. Well, of course, to run a home properly, you've got to have the new bath-sized luck soap on hand, and I always have that. Bill, what's that big contest I've been hearing about? Something about 15-year-old Lux Girls. It's a contest to pick the most beautiful Lux Girl born in 1934, Carrie. The year the Lux Radio Theatre was born. And next Monday, October 17th, the 15th anniversary of the Lux Radio Theatre, the papers will have full details. That's when the six winners from each of the 163 local contests will be announced. With pictures, I hope. Yes, papers all over the country will carry the photographs of the six lucky girls in their CBS station area. Well, who picks the prettiest Lux Girl? Everybody will have a chance to vote for their favorite among the six local winners. Then the girl getting the most votes represents her station in the big national contest. I'd like a vote, Bill, so I'll watch the papers next Monday. You know, there's only one rule to remember. Send in your vote on a Lux Toilet Soap Rapper. Well, I just might possibly be able to find one. Not just one, I mean. Vote as many times as you like. What will you have for the big anniversary show next Monday, Bill? A romantic hit direct from the current screen. The 20th Century Fox picture, Mother is a Freshman. And we'll have the original stars of the film here to celebrate our anniversary. There are Loretta Young and Van Johnson. This is delightful entertainment for the whole family. The kind of play you'd like so much during the 15 years of the Lux Radio Theater. So I know everyone will want to join our audience next Monday night. It's a grand picture, Bill, and Loretta is the loveliest freshman I ever saw. Good night. Good night, and thank you. Leave her brother's company, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday evening when the Lux Radio Theater presents Loretta Young and Van Johnson in Mother is a Freshman. This is William Keely saying good night to you from Hollywood. Cary Grant is currently starred in the 20th Century Fox picture. I was a male war bride. Heard in tonight's cast were Donald Randolph as Bill, Stephen Dunn as Sims, and Carter as Betsy, and Whitfield as Joan, and Herbert Butterfield, Charlotte Lawrence, Tim Graham, Lillian Randolph, Jack Petruzzi, Cliff Clark, Howard McNeer, Earl Lee, and Eddie Marr. Our play was adapted by S.H. Barnett, and our music was directed by Louis Silvers. Our Lux Radio Theater production of Mr. Blandings builds his dream house has come to you with the good wishes of the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, Hollywood's own beauty soap. Have you tried the big new bath size Lux Toilet Soap? It's the same fine white soap you've always used, but in a generous, larger size, specially created to make a delightful, refreshing beauty bath. This is your announcer, John Milton Kennedy, reminding you to join us again next Monday night to hear Mother is a Freshman, starring Loretta Young and Van Johnson. I is a new spry, a better than ever spry. You'll be a better cook when you use spry. Sprying your baking pan, sprying your frying pan. You'll be a better cook when you use spry. Like crispy golden brown fried foods, fried with new spry, they're better than ever, supremely tender and delicate. Why? New spry is blender, plays up fresh natural food flavors, and foods fried the spry way are as digestible as if baked or boiled. For all you bacon fry, try new, better than ever, spry. Another fine product of Lever Brothers Company. You'll be a better cook when you use spry. Be sure to listen next Monday night to the Lux Radio Theatre presentation of Mother is a Freshman, starring Loretta Young and Van Johnson. Stay tuned for my friend Irma, which follows over these same stations. This is ZBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.