 Dedicated to the strength of the nation, starring Nancy Gild in The People Next Door, the United States Army and United States Air Force presentation. And our here is our producer, the well-known Hollywood showman, C.P. McGregor. Thank you, thank you very much, and greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to your Theatre of Stars, where the famous personalities of the motion picture world join us in plays we know you'll enjoy. Our star is the beautiful young actress, Nancy Gild, who appears for the first time in radio before our microphone, the title of our bright comedy, The People Next Door. We'll have the curtain for act one in just a moment, but first, here is your announcer with this important message. Choose the career that offers all five. The US Army offers you these five keys to a successful future. One, the right job for you. Two, continuous training in your job. Three, planned advancement. Four, lifetime security. Five, travel and recreation. Yes, men, choose the career that offers all five. Find out about the five keys to a successful future at your nearest Army and Air Force recruiting station. And I'll once again, our producer. The curtain rises on act one of The People Next Door, starring Nancy Gild as Pat Day. On a street that I know of, there are two houses, that is, two particular houses, and what a difference, like night and day. And what a coincidence. You see, George and Pat Day live in the day house, and Mr. and Mrs. J. Frumby Knight, that's K and I, G-H-T, live in the night house. Gee whiz, the day house is all white with green shutters and creamy curtains that nice windows that wink at you when you go by. But next door, the house is brick, blue brick, and peers with hotty disdain at the little white house through narrow bloodshot windows. And it has a mahogany door that sort of frowns and says, we don't want any. Well, in the day house, Pat, the effervescent little manageress of the day establishment, is making hors d'oeuvres like crazy out of little pieces of toast and some sort of goo. Pat, patricial misanthrope day. Patricia? It ain't Santa Claus, it's George. Where is my one and only treasured razor blade? Come again. The one I've only shaved with three times? Oh, that one. Yeah, that one. Oh. I vaguely detect a slight note of the witness pleads guilty in that first sentence, oh. Well, George, you know that new dress I'm making. Go on. But just remember, anything you say can be used against you. Well, new dresses have to have patterns. And they have to be cut out. And I couldn't find the scissors. Razor blade? Yike. Remind me to divorce you first thing in the morning. Insufficient grounds. Mental cruelty. Hey, I know. What? If I might be so blamed inquisitive. The knights. Yeah, yeah, they're cold. And the days are wet and without razor blades. And the necessary simoleons to buy new ones. And maybe I could use an oyster shell. George. I read in a book once about a chamber to- Quiet, you babbling brook. We've only got four wine glasses. Yeah, that makes sense. Knee with a face like a powdered soap ad. And you crop up with, we've only got four wine glasses. So there'll be six of us for dinner. Four from six leaves, two. Correct is the very devil. Now where are we? If six of us are going to have chablis with our dinner, four wine glasses aren't enough. Catch, catch. Clear as the coffee you generally make, which ain't. No, Algenon. I don't catch, catch. You're thick. I said the knights, didn't I? Next door. Yeah, fine, good, terrific. Super duper, so what? So I'm going over and borrow a couple of wine glasses. And maybe, I said just maybe, I can vamp the old geezer. Vamp the old geezer? What for? So as I can borrow a razor blade, so as you can shave your ugly face, Horace. Now, catch, catch. Well, that's the day house, like bubbles in a glass of sparkling burgundy. But now, the switch to the night house next door to the living room, in fact, and what a living room. Mahogany-paneled walls, bold-legged French chairs that go, ah-ah, a couple of ancestors glowering down under their gilt frames in the wall, kibitzing Mr. and Mrs. Knight's whiskane. Oh, and a black marble fireplace with the darndest thing on it, a dryad chasing a cupid. Holy mackerel. I'll bid three clubs. It's yours. You know, Jebediah, something must be done about those young people next door. Well, what have they done now? Well, their dog was in our garden again this morning. Well, call the police. There's a law regarding the responsibility of dog owners. Why, I just can't call the police somehow, Jebediah. They're such children. They remind me of orphans in the storm. Such irresponsible children. They're both out of the adolescent stage from what I've seen of them. Oh, I know, Jebediah, in years, perhaps, but the way they live, hand to mouth, and they don't seem to care. They both Twitter like birds in a cage. And what they exist on, heaven only knows. Doesn't he have a job, or doesn't he work? Oh, she told me last week that he's inventing something, a great innovation of some sort, no doubt. No doubt. Venters, my dear, are precarious and stupid. Hopes to sell it when he's finished. Very unsound, very unsound indeed. Having parties two and three times a week, living as if they had a champagne income. I tell you, Abbey, there ought to be a law. Someone ought to legislate a bill, making it illegal for people who contribute nothing to society, except a lot of nonsensical, flubbed debris. Oh, but, Jebediah, those two children aren't causing any harm. Nor are they causing any good. I tell you, young people today are going straight to the devil in a handbasket. Straight to the devil is precisely where they're going. No wonder the world is in the condition it's in. This younger generation completely lacks all sense of moral fiber. Oh, come now, Jebediah, they're not as bad as all that. You were young once yourself, you know. Indeed I was. Indeed I was. But let me tell you, I was a sensible young man. There was nothing flibidigibiddy about me. Had there been, my father would have taken it out of me with a burnt stick. Well, what have they done? That's the point. Not at all. It isn't what they've done. It's what they haven't done. Yes, indeed, what they haven't done. They flit about like grasshoppers. They toil if not, neither do they spin it. I should have to think where they're heading. Straight into perdition. That's where Abigail. Straight into the jaws of perdition. I've always thought that perdition was a place I didn't know it had jaws. Oh, Abby, that's only a figure of beats, my dear. A metaphor, so to speak. Oh, dear. Just still sit still. I'll see who it is. Probably somebody looking for somebody else. Good evening. Hello, how are you? I'm fine, thank you. I'm Mrs. Day. You don't know me. We live next door. I've come begging. Won't you come in, please? Mrs. Knight is in the living room. Thank you. Screwy night, isn't it? Looks like it might pile up to a dry drizzle and simply booble. Buckets and buckets, I mean. Who is it, Jebediah? Oh, good evening, Mrs. Day. Hello there. I've come seeking arms. Arms, my dear. Shut the door, Jebediah. Of course. I wonder. I know it's terrible and simply awful of us. But could we borrow a couple of wine glasses? We've got company coming for dinner. And well, we did have six. But when the Jamersons were over last week, two of them went bung. Wine glasses? Just two, Mrs. Knight. And I'll drag them back first thing in the morning. We'll be grateful like mad. Of course, my dear. Come into the living room. What sort of wine glasses do you wish? What sort of wine are you saving? Well, George, he swears by the Almighty that it's shabby. But for a dollar and a half, it's not finished 29. I hope you don't mind terribly. Not in the least, my dear. George claims he can drink his out of a milk bottle. But I don't imagine that will look very lottie-dar, do you? Then you don't want only two glasses, my dear. Glasses should match, you know. Supposing I lend you six. Oh, gee. Oh, thanks a billion, Mrs. Knight. Have you enough silver? Oh, I think so. Mostly, counting the ones we got with the box top coupons. I shall lend you some silver. After all, a party must be well done, you know. And I just happen to think I have a damasked tablecloth that I haven't used for years. Would you like to use it? Oh, Mrs. Knight. Now, now, now. I'm only too glad to do it. We have so much. How is your husband? Swell. Crazier than ever. He's horrified at me going begging like this. He swears to leave me. The big dope should know he can't leave me. Do you want to know a secret? What is it, my dear? The storks made a nest in our chimney. You mean to say? Yes, I do. And, oh, boy, I hope it's a boy. You poor dear girl. Oh, no, no. Lucky, lucky me. That goony husband of mine leaves me alone so much. It'll be Swell just having someone to talk to. Oh, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for the glasses. We're throwing a wing ding, and we do want to make it nice. You're perfectly welcome, my dear. Oh. Yes? Just one more thing. Gosh, we're beggars. Oh, Mr. Knight. Yes, Mrs. Day? Could I ask an extra special favor? Yes, of course. What is it? Could you possibly see your way clear to lend that goopy husband of mine a razor blade? What corks your handcuffs or something? Oh, I've got my arms full. OK, you're right, you loot. What goes on, you little pirate? Glasses, scads of them, and enough silver to start a mint, sterling too. Here, help me. Oh, don't drop them. They're forged by Cellini or somebody, Crystal. Cellini didn't make glass, you crackpot. Where have you been on a quiz show or something? Nope. I've been turning on my wiles. Come again? You know they're the peachiest people. What people are the peachiest? The knights. Look, Ophelia Lumplump, stop talking in Sanskrit and start giving with the low down and the low down. Else I break every bone in your fragile little body. You know what I like about you, George. Why? The nice things you can say to a girl. You make my heart go pitty, Pat. Stop running around the raspberry boys. It isn't Mayday. What'd you do, burgle the knights? No, by just when sashaying over to see them, put up my case, and here we are. Yeah, aren't we? Yep. And look, sweet Alice, surprise. What's that? A brand new unused, guaranteed to be a sharpest blade is razor blade for me to you, with my fond love and affection, very truly yours, Pat. For me? Yes, a nice new razor blade. We pause briefly from our story, the people next door starring Nancy Gile to bring you an important message from your government. Choose the career that offers all five. The US Army offers you these five keys to a successful future. One, the right job for you. Scientific aptitude tests determine the right job for you. Two, continuous training in your job. Specialized training and educational courses prepare you for advancement in your field. Three, planned advancement. Under the Army's advancement plan, your skill and efficiency will assure periodic promotions. Four, lifetime security. You as an Army man are guaranteed regular pay and liberal retirement benefits. In sickness, your medical care is provided without cost, and your regular pay continues. Five, travel and recreation. In the Army, you will enjoy the finest recreational facilities and opportunities for worldwide travel. Remember, you have 30 days vacation with pay each year. Yes, choose the career that offers all five. Get full details at your nearest Army and Air Force recruiting station. The curtain rises on act two of the people next door starring Nancy Gile as Pat Day. On that very special street that I know of, the arc light is hissing and sputtering all manner of horrid gossip to the Blue Brick House while mixing up a fresh batch of yellow light and the pavement in which are swimming all manner of crazy things, beetles and gnats, all keeping time to the very gay music that pours in a laughing cascade out of the windows and smiling door of the day house. But next door in the Blue Brick House, Jebediah and Abigail Knight are upstairs in bed. Not asleep though. How could anyone sleep with that racket going on? So Jebediah grunts and snorts and spins like a flying saucer and reaches that precarious mental state in which is described in colloquial terms as my, my. Isn't that awful? Abby, I'm going to call the police. There are laws in this community to protect decent citizens. Now you do know such thing, Jebediah. Irresponsible imbeciles creating an unholy disturbance at this time of night? I'll admit they're a bit noisy, Jebediah, but it's only 10 o'clock. Time all decent people were in bed. Jebediah. What? We're getting terribly old. Oh, nonsense. And with it, we're becoming nasty and grumpy people. What in the world's come over you, Abigail? When that little Mrs. Day came over this evening to borrow the wine glasses, I couldn't help thinking. Jebediah, she was like a breath of spring morning air. She reminded me of a bouquet of first violets with her eyes sparkling like dew drops. They're a pair of irresponsible jackenapes. Not a thought in the world beyond the tip of their noses borrowing wine glasses and a razor blade. I don't know what the world's coming to, going straight to the dogs. Jebediah, do you remember when we were first married? I remember we didn't throw wild parties and borrow razor blades. But we had taffy pools and hay rides. And I used to borrow a cup of sugar once in a while from Mrs. Perkins next door. Different, different. We assumed our responsibilities. I worked like a dog so that we might eventually be secure. Which we are, Jebediah, and what does it mean? You and I live alone in this old house. We have money enough in the bank to buy anything we want. But we don't want anything. Well? You and I remind me of two dried up withered apples, Jebediah, in the bottom of a dark barrel. Oh, I know those children next door carelessly responsible here today, gone tomorrow. But listen to them laugh. How long has it been since we've laughed, Jebediah? I can see nothing enviable in their wine cackling. Jebediah, I'm worried about those children. For the first time in more than 20 years, I know what it means to worry. Nonsense. They don't worry about themselves, so why should you disturb yourselves? That's just it, my dear. They don't worry about themselves. They don't worry or seem to care where tomorrow's meal is coming from. And there's a baby on its way. Their deliberate misfortunes are no concern of ours, Abigail. Perhaps not theirs, Jebediah. A helpless little wave coming into a world to parents who borrow wine glasses and haven't the vaguest notion of how much care and protection babies need. I'm thinking, Jebediah, of our own son. If God had only been willing, he should have lived. Somehow I wonder about the fairness of it all. We, who could give our child everything under the sun, every advantage, and yet our child was only born to breathe once or twice and return home. I never even had the chance to hear him cry. And there's the game. And there's the days, happy and carefree as locks, and their baby already sliding down the moon beams. Oh, perhaps I'm just a silly, sentimental old woman, Jebediah, but I can't help feeling a dreadful responsibility for those foolish people next door. Light on my face. You think I'm goofy? Come on, come on. Well, what's the flamin' ruckus? Look. Holy jumping, Josephette. Patricia, crackpot day. What cooks? Isn't that the sweetest bassinet you've ever seen? And look at these quilts, real down. Yeah. And look at these boxes, George. Oodles and gobs of dresses and nightgowns and dozens of doodads. And there's even a bottle for sterilizing and a folding bathtub. Suffering, great admahitabelle. Pat, you didn't charge all this stuff, did you? No. Well, then how come? I don't know. What do you mean, you don't know? Look, Murgatroy, the one about the fairy godmother went out with mustache cups. All I know is, George, that this afternoon a truck drove up from the Emporium. The man said, are you Mrs. Day? And I said, yes. And he said, Mrs. George Day. And I said, yes. And he said, this stuff is for you. And just then, a taxi rolled up and five more fell out. Honest, George, that's exactly what happened. Somebody is nuts. I even called the Emporium and said they'd made a mistake. But they said no, they hadn't. We had the right name, and this was the right address. And that's all they'd tell me. Maybe we have got a fairy godmother, George. Well, Fui, I don't want any fairy godmothers cluttering up the place and be perfectly able to buy our own stuff when the time comes. Get my invention sold and, well, Patricia, send all this stuff back. They won't take it back. I've already asked. Well, they can't do this to me, whoever it is. Well, I'll go to the law. I'll take it to the Supreme Court. George Sylvester Day is not, never has been and never will be an object of charity. I guess I've got my self-respect. And if necessary, when George Sylvester Day junior is born, he can sleep in a shoebox. I've been scuttled and maligned, and yes, humiliated. Oh, stop waving your arms and screeching. Somebody's at the door. And furthermore, if I catch up with this snake in the grass, what? Somebody's at the door. See who it is. Oh, maybe it's some more pixies with a cartel of Chippendale furniture and 42 grand pianos. Yeah? Oh, I beg your pardon. Good afternoon, Mr. Day. Well, how do you do? I'm Mrs. Knight from next door. Is Mrs. Day at home? Yeah, she's at home. Won't you come in? Thank you. Patricia. Hello there, Mrs. Knight. I'm terribly sorry to burst in on you this way, Mrs. Day. Not in the least. I hate to be an imposition, my dear, but I'm baking some apple tarts. And I was just wondering if you could lend me a cup of sugar. Fish, you love your bet, don't you, darling? He's the most adorable baby I've ever seen, Mrs. Day. Bet is a little pig. He gained another two ounces this week. He eats like a horse. Oops, a daisy, my sweetie, can you get all ready for a trip in the pea green boat? Oh, oh, bother. I forgot his nightgown. Would you hold him for a moment, Mrs. Knight, while I get it? Oh, I'd love to hold him. Over you go, darling, to your fairy godmother. Come on, darling. Come on. That's the big boy. I'll just be a moment. I am your fairy godmother, darling. And oh, what fun it's been. And what fun it's going to be for a long, long time. Tell anybody, will you? It's our secret, just between you and me. Yes. You see, I had a little boy once, just like you. Only he couldn't stay very long. I guess he had other things to do. And you know, I'll bet if you could only talk, you could tell me about him before you get older and forget. I know that you know him. You must have been very good friends. Darling, I think that's the reason you decided to come here to the people next door. Glasses, Mr. Knight. Abigail, which reminds me, Georgie. Of what, Mr. Knight? That's it, Mr. Knight. People who live next door shouldn't be so blame-formal. If Patricia's going to be Pat and Abigail's going to be Abbey, you've got to stop calling me Mr. Knight. The name's Jebediah. So you, Georgie, from here on out, I'll be just per... The name's Jebbey, Mrs. Day. The name is Pat, Mr. Knight. OK, Pat. OK, Jebbey. Hey, Jebbey. Yes, Pat. Do you think you could find your way clear to lend my screwy husband a razor blade? The curtain falls in the final act of the people next door. Our star, Nancy Gile, will return for a curtain call after this timely message from Wendell Niles. Valuable professional assignments in the Army Medical Department are now available to a limited number of young doctors. In these positions, doctors have a chance to work closely with top specialists in the various fields of medicine and keep abreast of the newest developments in the finest modern medical equipment. In addition to regular pay and allowances, they receive $100 per month professional pay. For details, write the Surgeon General, Department of the Army, Washington 25 DC. Now once again, our star and our producer. Nancy, since this is your first appearance in our theater, I want to officially introduce you to our audience and compliment you on a fine portrayal. Thank you, CP, but confidentially, your microphone scares me to death. What? After working with Orson Welles and Black Magic and a little thing like a microphone frightens you? That was a wonderful experience for me to make that picture in Italy with him. But Mr. Welles is exhausting, not frightening like a microphone. In what way? Well, as you know, the entire cast, except for just a few of us, were all Italian or French. So when Mr. Welles disgusts anything, just anything at all with us or with Mr. Rattle, the director, he didn't exactly whisper. So the cast thought he was quarreling with you and with the director? Well, yes, that's it. And being energetic and a very hardworking person, we'll keep pace, that's all. And that is exhausting. And another thing, I played two parts. One is Mr. Welles' wife and the other is Marie Antoinette. Well, Mr. Rattle, for strictly a morning man. And I know Orson is an afternoon and evening worker. Exactly. So with two parts, I worked hard every minute, which was doubly difficult. I can appreciate that. Now what have you been doing in the past year and a half in pictures? I know you're under contract to 20th Century Fox. Well, I've temporarily retired for the most important job in the world. I have a little daughter. Oh, that's fine, Nancy. How old is she now? Elizabeth Ann is just six months old. Ah, you should have brought her along with you. No, no, I shouldn't, CP. You'd put her in radio, and she's entirely too young to know what she wants to do. But I let her listen to you every week. Well, I appreciate that anyway. By the way, who is starring with you next week? Next week, Nancy, and ladies and gentlemen, we shall have the Queen of the West, none other than lovely Dale Evans, to star in a great Texas story of water rights, feuds, and romance titled Troubled Waters. Don't miss it. That should be good, and we'll be listening. Goodbye, CP. Goodbye, Nancy. And I sincere thanks again for being with us. Be sure to listen next week, ladies and gentlemen, for Dale Evans in Troubled Waters. Until then, thanks for listening, and cheerio from Hollywood. Nancy Gale appears at the courtesy of the Hollywood Coordinating Committee, which arranges for the appearance of all stars in this program. The script was by Kimbal S. Sant with the music of Eddie Dunstead. This program is transcribed in Hollywood for release at this time. Wendell Niles speaking.