 Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage. Two of the most distinguished names in radio, appearing each week in their own theater, starring in a repertory of transcribed stories of their own and your choosing. Radio's foremost players in Radio's foremost plays. Ladies and gentlemen, Elliot Lewis. Good evening. May I present my wife, Kathy. Good evening. In the six months that Elliot and I have been doing on stage, we've been very lucky in the kind of stories that have been made available to us. Somebody said once that an artist is as good as his tools. A painter needs paint and palette. A musician needs instruments. A piano player without a piano is not easy to identify. And two actors without a script, especially on radio, are not likely to be very entertaining. Since this program started, we've been delighted to play the stories of the E. Jack Newman, Shirley Gordon, Richard Chandley, Anthony Ellis, Walter Newman, Shelby Gordon, and many others. And we've been even more pleased that you've liked these fine craftsmen and have remarked the same to us in your letters. Shirley and E. Jack especially. Tonight we add a new author. The young man's name is Thonus Calhoun. His home is in Galveston, Texas, and this is his first radio script. And it's called Canary Yellow. Now listen, you good people. Harold Drake, the veteran comic, opened his new show at the Plymouth Theater tonight with 20 curtain calls. Count them, 20. This master of sophisticated comedy is as much at home in his new vehicle as you are in your own beat-up carpet slippers. With a poise and a sparkle and glitter as only you'll read about, this Drake proves again actors are born, not made. I'm Harold Drake, ladies and gentlemen. Don't believe everything my good friend Foster says about me. Not everything, that is. He much maligns me. In my case, an actor was made, not born. An actor was made through a process of self-preservation and in spite of a bilious yellow canary costume with a bill yet. It all began one spring of a yesteryear or perhaps even before that. I was not yet out of the cowboy and Indian stage. And this particular night was playing on the floor with my little lead soldiers, probably trying to make a liar out of Eugene Field. I didn't hear the beginning of the conversation, but suddenly was aware my father had raised his voice alarmingly. I looked up to see my mother placidly tatting an Atomacassar as my father stared at her from across the room. My father's face was a blotched purple and the veins in his forehead reminded me of the human anatomy chart I'd seen in the Almanac. I could have told him which veins were bulging, but I didn't. I didn't care. Father was not in the mood. A bird? Yes, a bird. He would fly around to the little girl flowers and visit. You mean walk? Dance, dear. May fates are usually held on the grounds of the school and so Harold would have to flip from flower to flower. Flip? Dance? It's for sissies. Harold's a man like me or will be. Yes, dear, I know, but now he's a very young boy and I don't think the experience would permanently stunt his growth in the right direction. Have you thought how expensive a costume would be? You can afford it, dear. If you can't, I'll take the money from my sugar bowl. You can't tell what talent we may discover in Harold. You know very well your own father read Shelly and Keats with a great deal of feeling. While us kids did most of the hoeing and chopping cotton. No, sir. My Harold is not going to be one of those artist people. Miss Stutz thinks it'd be a good thing for him socially. Who is Miss Stutz? His teacher, dear. You remember Miss Stutz? I don't. Anyway, I came right out of the hills of Arkansas. The hilly part. No, dear. I got along without sociability and so can he. These are other times, dear, teachers nowadays think children should be given a chance to express themselves. As a flitting bird rigged out in crepe paper feather? It's not just the part, dear. It's the confidence he'd gain performing before an audience. He might even become an actor or a politician. That's enough said. He'll not flit. Sam, you've no right to hold him back just because of personal prejudice. What about my position? Every man at the factory would say something like, shame about Sam's boy got none of his father's ways kind of scissified. Oh, well, what do you care what they say as long as you know the difference? Just fooling around as a bird may be the difference. We've no right to keep him from opportunity, Sam Drake. 9-10 sees the boy gets his chance. Besides, there are other little boys in the dance. I have to face their mothers. I never knew my wife was a bleating sheep who jumped fences. I am a mother who looks out for her son's welfare even if his father does not. What kind of a bird does this Miss Stutz want him to be? A yellow bird. A canary. A canary? No. I forbid it. I forbid it. Canaries are beautiful birds, dear. A tame, hot house bird with no spirit. Not a crow or a blue jay or one with some dignity. A canary? Never. Never. But not even my father was able to get through the embattlements of the Ladies May Fate Planning Committee and a canary I was to be. During the next week, my father was a bitter man. He was practically a defeated man why he even sulked at meals. Well, everyone's through, but you, dear, haven't eaten enough to keep a spar alive. Oh, I've lost my appetite. What's for dessert? Your favorite, dear. He knew very well there was another berry cobbler, another of my mother's bribes to keep him in a good humor. Later that night, she asked him as he pretended to read. I say pretended. Dear, when you're going to work on my seated chest, you've not touched it for days. Don't feel like it. Just don't feel like it. All right, dear, when you feel up to it? My father knew how to make the most of every scene, even as to eyeing me suspiciously like I was a small, undernourished rat about to fall into his glue pot. Harold! If I thought you were happy about this, I'd take a limb to you. Happy? Papa, I'm scared. I'm shaking. And scared I was. Here was father always threatening to take my pants down and cane me and my mother taking them down to try on my costume. I was caught between two parents. I was being grown up fast. It was goodbye to my childhood and perhaps the muskets of my little lead soldiers were molding in hand. At any rate, one noon before the big debut, father took his lunch sack and wandered over to his friend's bench. Mortiske, let's eat outside today. Fine day. Oh, hello, Sam. Sure. Let me get my lunch here. You look sort of dispirited. I am. You know, home life can get to the place where it rubs off on a man? Sure can. Just plumb rub off. I sometimes wonder if it's all worth it. I know what you mean. You're about wondering if it's worth it. Yeah. Women get the craziest notions. Yeah. Put such importance on little things. Yeah. A thing can be just one way. And they always pick the wrong way. Yeah. Just opposite. And stubborn. Now, for instance, a man likes to think his son will follow on his footsteps. Or a man's life just don't make any sense. That's just the way I feel. Covering around in a female costume. Okay, here's a shady spot. Your wife? No. My son, Leonard. What kind of a costume? You won't mention this to the other fellas, will you? Of course not. A bird. A blue jay. Blue jay? Oh, Miss Stutt's fault, that schoolworm. She kept telling my wife that Mayfait wouldn't be right without a blue jay and that Leonard was the only boy temperamentally suited to it. Oh. I appreciate the honor. And I'm sure Leonard does have my feeling of things still, uh, blue jay. Uh, what do you think of a canary? Ah, that's an idea. Why couldn't he be a canary, a little closer to home? Maybe he could. I... I don't know, though. That's a little sissy for Leonard. Oh, I wouldn't exactly say it's sysified for anybody. Too much for Leonard. I'm sure he'd never consent to it. Not that I would want him to. Well, I bet you're glad Harold wasn't asked. He was asked. He was? He's going to be a canary. Oh, no. Look, Sam, I didn't mean a canary is anything to be ashamed of. I don't think so either. A canary is a refined bird, sings like a true artist and has good manners. I... I... I think so, too. Only I think a blue jay is an elegant bird, too. I think Leonard will do fine. I didn't mean to say Leonard would be wrong as a blue jay. I think Harold would be a fine canary. Just fine. Fine. Uh, have a piece of cake, Sam? I don't believe so. But it's Lady Baltimore, your favorite. I don't think so, Fortescue. I think I'll take a turn around the plan. No, wait up. I'll go along. No, if, uh... If you don't mind, Fortescue. Well, sure. Sure, Sam. My father was only miffed that Fortescue should think I could not properly flit from flower to flower. Then he reasoned a different way. He came off his hunger strike, worked on the cedar chest, and when mother had finished the dishes and had settled herself for her sewing, he put down his tools and came over to her. Um, how's the costume coming on? The bird costume? Oh, very well, dear. I'm thinking of a bill that won't fall down over his eyes. Uh, could I see it? Where's Harold? I'll get it. It's upstairs. There's lessons, I think. Uh, Harold? Harold, come down here, will ya? It is, Sam. There. How'd he like it? Hold it up so I can see it. You sell one row of paper points on top of each other. Yeah, it looks a little flimsy. Looks flimsy? You sure it won't break out at the seams? I don't think so. You better be sure. Harold is pretty much of a boy when it comes to busting things out and we couldn't have that. I suppose we couldn't. And don't spare the feathers. If you need some more crepe paper, I'll go out and get you some more. Oh, plenty of feathers. Sam, you're taking an awful lot of interest, aren't you? Here I am, Papa. Uh, Harold, have you been practicing your dance like you should? I guess so, Papa. Guess so? That won't do. Don't you know you'll never get anywhere in society or any place unless you know what you're about. Know a thing, Harold. Yes, Papa. You've got to know that dance good enough to show up everybody on the field, do you? Not everybody, I guess. All right, then let's get at it. Add it and add it until you know you mastered it. I didn't know you wanted me to do it at all, Papa. If you're gonna do a thing, you might as well do it right. Yes, sir. Now, Bessie, will the costume fit him? Yes, dear, I'm sure it will. Oh, perfect. All right, let's try it on. We got a few days yet to fix it up in case it isn't right. Do I have to now, Papa? I've got geography. All right now, Harold. You try this on. Papa. Sam, I've never seen you so concerned over anything you so heartily disapproved of. Who says I disapprove of it? We're just not going to be outdone by a blue jay. Blue jay, dear? A blue jay. You climb into that canary suit, Harold, and you'll be quick about it. I think I can fix that bill. Yes, sir. You are listening to Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage tonight's play, Canary Yellow. In the Greek island earthquakes, 120,000 were left homeless. Over 1,000 killed and more than 4,000 injured. The stricken area is in desperate straits. With the approval of the State Department, the American Red Cross is conducting an appeal for disaster relief contributions. All funds you send to your local Red Cross chapter earmarked for Greek relief will be used solely by the Greek Red Cross to aid earthquake victims. If I was scared before, now I was numb with fear. With father suddenly in favor of my being a canary bird, my parents had put up a solid front against me. I knew I must produce the goods. As the next few days passed, like so many milestones to my execution, I was trained like a prize fighter for his first championship match. As I went through my routine, my father would suddenly, without warning, bellow, shake a leg, Harold. Shake a leg. The honor of the family is on the chopping block. Right on it. Or when I would lag, he would look up from his work and admonish me roundly. Harold, do you think a blue jay is the equal of a canary? No, sir. Then show that you don't. Believe in what you do. Always convince yourself what you're doing is the most important thing happening in the world. Even me in a paper canary suit? Certainly. The canary is a noble bird. It comforts old ladies, and it twerps young people into getting married. Yes, sir. You're not scared, are you? Yes, sir. You'll never be a politician if you don't learn to face people. Don't want to be a politician. Actor then? No. Harold, did you know Leonard Fortescue is to be a blue jay in this same May fate? Yes, sir. Well, that should be enough. You'll not only dance, but you'll make him look like a blue jay. But what if I should forget or stub my foot or my bill fall down over my eyes? Something like that? I'm warning you, it had just better not. Yes, sir. Your father is a foreman, and I can't have respect if my son makes a fool out of himself by not being able to do a simple little dance. Do you understand? Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I understand. And that was the way it went. My poor father was afraid I would disgrace him. He wasn't alone. I had visions of disgracing myself. The days dragged slowly by. Each one was a new instrument of torture. I was being given a final coaching course under Miss Stutz, the effusive and determined Miss Stutz. Tripping along ever so lightly and flapping my wings at the same time seemed an insurmountable mechanical problem. Not like a frog, Harold. You don't hop, dear. No. And not like you were playing hopscotch, either. It is thrilling. Can't you feel it, dear? You must float, float, float and glide on the wings of spring. But I'm too hairy to float, Miss Stutz. Well, of course you can't really float, Harold, but you must give the impression that you are. As long as my feet stay on the ground, I can't believe it myself. Please, don't be so literal, dear. Just gently flap your wings and say to yourself that you're going to visit Oh, a beautiful morning glory. But Genevieve's got freckles. Lots of them. And she don't look like a morning glory. Your imagination, Harold. You simply must use your imagination a little. Yes, ma'am. All righty. Now, small breezy steps, your wings gently waving in the breeze. Start again. No, no. Dear, you're throwing your arms around like a frightened buzzard. You're a canary, dear. You must remember that. And don't sweep the ground with your little wings either. And you must keep your knees straight. You don't walk on them. Yes, ma'am. Now, start again. Now, pretend that Genevieve is by the water fountain. Are you ready? Go. Oh, watch out, dear. Oh. Oh, are you hurt, Harold? No, ma'am. I just tripped. I'm afraid you're just a bit clumsy, Harold. You've got to learn how not to get your feet twisted up. You must be fleet of foot, like Leonard Fortescue. Leonard? Yes, he's a very, very gifted dancer. He's as graceful as a gazelle. I can do anything Leonard can. Oh, well, I'm sure you can. Now, let's see you flip over to the morning glory. I can do it. I can do it. And so I was so thoroughly peaked and humiliated that there was nothing for me to do but forget my fright and go in there and fight. Leonard Fortescue was smarter than me and I could prove it. I got that dance down to a last polished wiggle. I even thoroughly convinced myself pigtailed freckle-faced Genevieve was a dewy morning glory. Oh, that's better, Harold. Much, much better. Bravo. Finally, the big day came. All the fathers and mothers dressed in their Sunday best sat stiffly in the folding chairs which had been set up on the school lawn. Among those beaming over cordial to their neighbors to hide their anxiety was my mother and father. My mother seemed happy enough but my father could not quite hide his agitation. As the son was just about to set, I started from my dressing room but not before father gave me one last word of warning. Yes, sir? Remember, Harold, the family honor is at stake. If you make so much as a bobble, I'll fix you up so you won't be able to sit down for a week. Yes, sir. But don't frighten him, Sam. Just do your best, dear. Yes, sir. You were long, honey. And before too many minutes had passed, just as the sun was all red and gold, the music for the May Fate began and with my bill in place so it wouldn't fall down over my eyes, I stood ready to make my debut into the theater. An earthly flight I kept telling myself. Before I knew it, someone had given me a shove and I was out on the ground winging and flitting my way to Genevieve, the beautiful freckle-faced morning glory. There it comes. Yes. There it comes. Doesn't he look sweet? He's not supposed to look sweet. Well, sure, he's trippin' along. I hope he don't trip himself. You kind of stiffen me. Certainly not. He's very graceful. He's not. 364 days of the year. He's an awkward boy. You'd think just for one day he could pull himself together. There goes to the little morning glory. Oh, I hope he makes it. Look, here comes Leonard. The blue jade. He looks much better to me. He's not all feet and neck. Seems frightened to me. Not as much as Harold. I knew I'd be sorry. He makes it. Very graceful, Sam. Your Leonard is better. And after me tellin' Harold he'd get his pants worn. Looks like Leonard's showing off to me trippin' along with complete abandon. Not even noticing where he's going. Don't worry about Leonard. I'll never be able to hold up my head in front of Fortescue much less get any work done. Harold is doing fine. He's just not the exhibitionist, Leonard, isn't he? Oh, mercy. Leonard speaks fallin' down over his eyes. He'll never be able to get his hands out of his wings. He's gonna hit that geranium. He did. Oh, mercy. Both of them on the ground, poor dears. I wonder if they're hurt. Here looks like Leonard knocked himself out. That little geranium must've had a hard head. Yes, dear, the Simpson girl. There goes Harold into his dressing room. Not above all. Good work, Harold. Good work by Jingle. A short while later, just as the sun disappeared beyond the lawn, a few pale stars had come out. A chilly breeze came up and the crowd began to disperse. Just as we were leaving, Miss Stutz caught up with us. Papa, this is Miss Stutz. I'm glad to meet you, Miss Stutz. You know my wife, I think. Oh, yes, yes, we're old friends. Yes, thank you. Mr. Drake, I want you to know you have a most talented son. He did do right well, didn't he? And on the field, I fairly was. He was the epitome of a feathery creature. An almost in a spiritual feeling in his creation. Thank you, Miss Stutz. I wanted to thank you all so for your work with him. I kept him at it, but you pulled him through it, I'm sure. It was nothing really. He's a very graceful boy and I'm sure it would've come through even without me. Of course I did save him the embarrassment Leonard Fortescue went through. I saw the bill might fall down, Well then I suppose we all did our bit then, didn't we? I suppose we did anyway. I'll be able to hold my head up at the factory. That's more than Fortescue can do. Well, I must be off. It was all a very, very great pleasure. See you soon. Now you see, Harold, what comes of being sure of what you're doing and staying with it until you succeed. Yes, sir. Now what do you think would have happened if I hadn't stepped in and seen that everything went off all right? No, papa. You'd be in a fix, like Leonard, perhaps bumping into a geranium just as he did because your bill might have fallen down. Sam Drake, I'll not have you taking the bow as a belong to that boy. He did the dance, the credit belongs to him and I want you to tell him so. I didn't mean it that way, Bessie. You did do all right, Harold. Now I can tell Fortescue what I think about a blue jay. Yes, sir, you've saved the family honor. Well, that's better, Sam. By the way, Harold, how would you like to have lessons on the tuba? You seem to have a small talent for performing and when I was a boy, the tubo was my instrument. I don't believe I've ever... I don't think my father ever really forgave me for not taking up tuba lessons. The confidence I gained from the debut led me to study acting. After many years, I landed here on Broadway. But when Arthur Foster says I was born an actor, don't you believe him? As you now know, in the beginning, I was just playing Canary Yellow. Canary Yellow, starring Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage. In a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis will tell you about next week's play. Tin Pan Alley ain't proud when those cats get hept to a good melody. They don't care where it comes from. Tomorrow night, over most of these same CBS radio stations, there's music in the air demonstrates the point. As Earl Wrightson, Clark Dennis, Francis Greer and Fredo Antonini's orchestra play one favorite after another originally heard as classical music. That's tomorrow night on CBS Radio. And now once again, Kathy and Elliot Lewis. Which will introduce to all of you Mr. Thonus Calhoun. And we believe he's a very gifted young man. We had two members of the Merrill family with us tonight. Lou Merrill, Thomas Highland on crime classics. Lou Merrill is a father and played Mr. Fortescue tonight. Harry Merrill is his son and played young Harold Drake. While Gigi Pearson taught the children how to be birds and flowers and was Miss Stutz. Next week, a new drama by Shirley Gordon. It's a beautiful and frightening experience dramatized under the title The Child in the Room. Until next week, thank you for listening. And good night. Good night. Music for tonight's story was composed and conducted by Fred Steiner. The Kathy and Elliot theme is by Ray Noble and the program is transcribed and directed by Mr. Lewis. George Walsh speaking. And remember, the Johnny Mercer show is heard weekday evenings on the CBS Radio Network.