 Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage. Kathy Lewis, Elliot Lewis, 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. Radios for most players in radios for most plays. Drama, comedy, adventure, mystery, melodrama. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elliot Lewis. May I present my wife, Kathy. Good evening. I should like to tell you about the play that Kathy and I have selected for this evening. It's a play of New York, of the theater, and of an actress and a producer. The actress is young, very new to the theater, and as a matter of fact, very new to New York. The producer is, well, a very unusual sort of producer and... Elliot, you forgot to say she was from Pittsburgh. Who? The actress, the part I play. I mean, I think it's important, don't you? The actress is young, very new to the theater, from Pittsburgh, and as a matter of fact, very new to... Have you mentioned about the producer? Your part? How he makes his money? No, Kathy. I have not. Don't you think it's important? Well, it comes out later in the story. Well, it wouldn't do any harm to mention it now, would it, dear? Kathy, would you like to take over the introduction? No, dear. I think you're doing it beautifully. The actress is young, very new to the theater, from Pittsburgh, and as a matter of fact... It was fall, it was winter, it was spring, it was New York. It was Broadway, and Phyllis Randall was an actress. Not a successful actress, not a recognized actress, but an actress, nevertheless. Sustained by hope and conviction. Conviction and hope. Sustained by the knowledge that someday, somehow... I'm sorry, we're not casting today, try later. We're not casting today, try later. Not casting today, try later. It was summer, it was fall, it was winter. Conviction had long since gone. Hope was about to follow. How long can you wait for a magic word? In the case of Phyllis Randall, she waited until she came to the office of my employer, theatrical producer Norman Perch. And that was just long enough. Yes, Miss Randall, Mr. Perch will see you. I beg your pardon? I said Mr. Perch will see you. He's casting this afternoon. Mr. Perch is casting? Right through there, please. Mr. Perch is casting? Mr. Perch? Over there. Over there, thank you. Mr. Perch? I'm Phyllis Randall. Perhaps you know my work? Anyway, although it's true that my professional background may not be quite as extensive as... Well, given the chance in a part I could feel, you see, it's my feeling that experience is not always the most... Well... What do you think, Albert? What do I think, Mr. Perch? Ah! Let's see. If you've got just a minute, Mr. Perch, I've got a reading which will give you some idea. I've got it right here, from the valiant. From the valiant? I did it in high school, and one of the big Pittsburgh papers said that I was... Yeah. If you could just give me some idea what parts you have up... Albert, I got a feeling about this girl. You do? What's your experience, Miss... Randall? Phyllis Randall? Yeah. Oh, my experience. Well, actually I haven't been in New York too long, and of course I've had offers in that time, but I'm really waiting for just the right thing to... Little theater? College dramatics? Well... High school? The valiant. But if you could just listen to me read, Mr. Perch, something else. Hand me that, Albert. Sure, Mr. Perch. Here, Phyllis, right here. That? Sure. Go ahead. Yes, sir. Unless it comes up mud at Aqueduct today, wise ones will be Hawking Grandma to get down on Oscar's dream. A goodie from Garden City, the system horse for today... Wait, thank you, Albert. Mr. Perch, Oscar's dream is a pig. A raiding, a raiding. Oh. Miss... Randall. Phyllis. Are you currently under contract? Under contract? Well, while I'm considering some things, actually I don't... Albert, get out of contract form. You mean you're going to give me a contract? Phyllis, Phyll, in over 200 productions I've never yet made a mistake about talent. You mean...? Get that reading, Albert. Yeah. In the weeks to come, Phyll, you will work as you've never worked before. You will live, eat, sleep, and breathe theater. Nothing but theater. Social life, personal life. You will have none. The theater will be your husband, your lover. And me, the one who gave you your chance, in one week you will hate me, in two wish to see me dead. For I will drive you, drive you toward that day that all Broadway will look up into the sky and know a star is born. You see? We went to work. Phyllis Randall was given a lead in a new play, Hang Me on Thursday, written by Buford Lovejoy, and tried author from the Texas Oil Family, was the type of play Mr. Perch like best. A poetic tragedy. Dagger, reap your bright blade's bloody harvest. I go, let time's turgid river sweep me toward the sea, trailing behind a single strand of yellow hair, a thin red line of blood. I go, a cosmic comedy, a loon's laugh, echoing in the emptiness of infinity, I die. Well, thank you, Albert. All right, on stage, everybody, on stage. Mr. Perch says, on stage, everybody, on stage. All right, quiet, everybody, quiet. Mr. Perch has an announcement, quiet. Children, you've worked hard. You've worked hard and you've worked hard. I think you're about ready. As every Perch production this play will have an out-of-town tryout. Before we hit the main stem, we have to be sure. So, Hang Me on Thursday opens in Boston one week from tonight. How was I, Mr. Perch? The curtain scene. Does it ring true? Phyllis, you're going to be fine, just fine. Oh, dear. How about you, Mr. Lovejoy? Were you satisfied? Well, Phyllis, Miss Randall, when I wrote those lines, even though I'd never met you, I could hear you saying them. So well, so well. Buford, we're moving to Boston tomorrow. I keep an eye on rehearsals there. Albert will help out, of course. Oh, aren't you going to be in Boston, Mr. Perch? It's our last week of rehearsals. I thought you'd be giving us a lot more direction. Well, there are one or two Perch touches I'd like to add. Unfortunately, these productions take money. I'm off to see if I can find a few chunks. Well, but didn't the check I gave you take care of everything? Well, let us say that it helped substantially, Buford. But, well, of course, the Junior Chamber Commerce of Prescott City will be coming to Boston for the tryout. They're always looking to pack a good thing. Prescott City? Prescott City, Texas, my hometown. The Junior CC. Are they loaded? Well, most of them are in oil, of course. That's all there is in Prescott City. Buford? Invite these patrons of the arts up to Boston before the tryout. I wish words with them. Well, they'll be proud to come, Mr. Perch. Nobody in Prescott City ever wrote a play before. Then everything will be all right, Mr. Perch. Phil. Buf. I think this will be my greatest production. Boston, fiery crucible in a dramatic world. We worked hard, feverishly, but we were happy. For all the Buford love joy had discovered leading lady Phyllis Randall, and producer Norman Perch had discovered the Prescott City Junior Chamber Commerce. Matt, can I tell you something, Phyllis? Oh, please do, Buford. Well, back in Prescott City, I used to dream of this. Dress rehearsal over and then a late supper in some romantic spot. Where's Mr. Perch? He was supposed to join us. Well, I think he's busy with the JCC, but Phyllis... Isn't he amazing, Buford? The producer, director of the show, yet he's only been to two rehearsals. Mr. Perch says he doesn't want to spoil the mystic symbolism of my play by formal direction. Oh, he's so sensitive to things like that. And, of course, he's busy raising the production money. He must be one of the theatre's real geniuses. Yeah, but Phyllis, honey, we don't have to spend all our time talking about Mr. Perch. Not tonight. Not if you don't want to, Buford. Phyllis? Good evening. Albert, isn't Mr. Perch with you? Sit down. Join us. Have something to eat. Albert... Oh, my. You haven't been drinking, Albert. I never drink, except just before I try out in Boston. Well, the minute the curtain goes up, Albert... At heart, I am a sentimentalist. Mr. Perch has tried to reason with me, but it's too late. I had a happy childhood. We were just talking about Mr. Perch, Albert. He's a really successful producer. Most successful in the business. 200 plays and made money on everyone. Everyone has been a hit. Mr. Perch has an unbroken record of flops. Well, I'm afraid I don't quite understand. No, I don't either. Mr. Perch is a theatrical genius at raising money. And if you can call 200% of a flop, you come out ahead. That is, if you can sell 200% of a flop. And Mr. Perch always comes out ahead. Well, sir, I refuse to believe that. So do I. And I'm going to find Mr. Perch and tell him what you've been saying. They're always so young, so hopeful in Boston. Mother wanted me to go to dental college. Mr. Perch, I hope you don't mind my breaking in this way, but I... Come in, Phil, come in. Mr. Perch... We've just been talking to Albert. Sound poor Albert. Can't stand openings. I know. Much more cheerful on closings. Sit down, sit down. Thank you. Mr. Perch, I feel it's my duty as a loyal member of the team. The what? The cast. Oh. Albert was intimating some pretty terrible things about you. Good old Albert. He said you produced only unsuccessful plays. That depends strictly on your point of view. Oh. Oh, he also inferred you were selling over 200% of Hang Me On Thursday. Of what? Our play. Oh. 200%? I see. No, that's not right. I knew it wasn't. Euford has 80%. I sold 40 more in New York, and I think the Prescott City Junior Chamber of Commerce will go for 200% themselves. But that's... That's 320%. I have a good feeling about this play. A good feeling. But is what you're doing entirely honest? Phil, you're turning on your patron, your benefactor? I'm sorry, Mr. Perch, but... But aren't you, in effect, betting that your plays will fail? Correct. If you take fail in the strict bourgeois sense of the word... But I... In the broader sense, I never fail. Consider me as a literary insect exterminator who lures potential pests like... Hang Me On Thursday. Yeah, that's it. Lures them from New York to Boston where they expire quietly without polluting the cultural stream of Broadway. Is not the workman worthy of his hire? But, Mr. Perch... Consider the employment I give deserving actors. I've had actors in as many as 50 plays a minus season. They swear by me. Always working. Mr. Perch. I believe in Buford's plays. Actors always believe in plays. That's why they're actors. And in spite of what your intentions may have been, this play will still be running five years from now. Phyllis, you must hate me. You are listening to Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage. Tonight's play, A Poetic Tragedy. Next Tuesday, make CBS Radio your inauguration headquarters and you'll have a roving box seat on the big parade to the White House, the solemn oath of office ceremonies, a roundup of the big day's events, and the highlights of the inaugural ball. A battery of crack CBS Radio newsmen will cover every significant aspect of the inauguration. Be sure to be listening next Tuesday, day and evening, for CBS Radio's all-out coverage of the inauguration. It was Boston. It was almost open night. The magic of a footlight make believe danced in the air. A Norman Perch was addressing a group of young men with grease paint in their veins. The Prescott City Junior Chamber of Commerce. Young man of the Prescott City Junior Chamber of Commerce. As I look out to your shining faces, I know that the theatrical future of America is assured. And historic occasion brings us together. A young man of your city, Buford Lovejoy, has written a poetic tragedy called Hang Me on Thursday. I'm trying out that play here in Boston, but actually I don't have to try it out. I know what it is. Now, you young men are all go-getters gifted with American know-how. If they hadn't struck oil in your backyard, you would have made your money some other way. Selling apples. So when I offer you an opportunity of buying into Buford's play, I know you've looked into the financial aspects, and we don't need to put it on that basis. I don't want you to look upon this as a money-making venture. I don't want you to consider your ties of friendship and boyhood with old Buford. Men? Texans? I want you to look upon this as a contribution to American culture. Open a night when its inevitable mishaps, and of these mishaps, Hang Me on Thursday had its share. The curtain rose, and the actors remembered their lines. And as the last act drew to a close, a producer and an author waited in the wings, intense expectancy. Iron's turgid river sweep me toward the sea, trailing behind a single strand of yellow hair, a thin red line of blood. I go, a cosmic comedy, a loon's laugh, echoing in the emptiness of infinity. I die. Well, what'd you think, Mr. Perch? Did they like her? Well, they didn't kill her. What do you think, Albert? How was I? Did they like the play? They're not applauding. Take a look out, Albert. Sure, Mr. Perch. Shall we line up for a bye? Wait, it might be dangerous. Mr. Perch, it's a sea of soggy handkerchiefs. What? That you're sitting here, weeping quietly. I'll take a curtain call. Don't go out, it might be a trick. Fine. At my play, Mr. Perch, Phyllis, will feel it a power sweeps over me. Down, Buford, down. Albert, let me look out. Sure, Mr. Perch. Not a sound. Nothing but the gentle drip, drip, drip, and here and there a small sob. That's the way it affects me, Mr. Perch. Me too. Albert. It's a poetic tragedy of tremendous sweep and power. Please, it may be an epidemic of head colds. Yeah, thank you, Albert. I think I'll go to my room. Mr. Perch, won't you join Phyllis and me in a little celebration with the Prescott City Junior CC? Do come, Mr. Perch. Well, it's too soon for celebrating, Buford. We won't know until we get the reviews in the morning. We can always count on the reviews, Mr. Perch. Always. I haven't had a kind word in 200 productions. Then we'll see you in the morning, Mr. Perch. You coming, Buford? Right away, my dear. Mr. Perch, thank you. Follow you've done. Thank you. He thanked me, Albert. The author thanked me. Usually, they just hang themselves. Thank you, Mr. Perch, for all you've done. Albert, what have I done? In the theater, there's always a brighter tomorrow. The failure of today is a fantasy. Tomorrow is the only reality. And so it was with Norman Perch. Albert, Albert, we got nothing to worry about. We're in like Flynn, home free. The review is hated. I had confidence in you, Mr. Perch. Hang me on Thursday is a typical Perch production. Can't get nastier than that. Variety gives it three sobs and a sleeping pill. The Times wants to organize a posse. Just like the old days, Mr. Perch. The mirror is kind of neutral. He just didn't understand the plot or the dialogue. I didn't need it. You think that's what the people were crying about? That's over now, Mr. Perch. It's a horrible moment when a man begins to doubt himself, Albert. Well, listen to this one. Phyllis. The vulture's nest. Come on in. Read the reviews. I've read the reviews. Did you write them? It's nothing to feel bad about. I think somebody said you were adequate. Well, I can see I'll never work for you again. That's a point. But I might take the chance. Bring out some coffee, will you, Albert? Sure, Mr. Perch. You see, Phil, it's like the stock market. Mr. Perch, I consider you a louse. Phyllis, I told you. Mr. J.P. Morgan thinks the stock will go down. He sells short. I do the same thing. Business, that's all. So you're a business like louse. You know, this makes me a little sad. I have liked you, Phil. Off stage, that is. And it pains me to discover the side of your character. Look, Mr. Perch... I'd ask you to call me Norman, but that's just as bad as Perch. It means nothing to you that Buford and his friends will lose their money. Buford and his friends have oil wells pumping night and day. Well, they're sleeping. The wells are pumping. Buford could only sleep four hours a night and still be behind on his spending. This may break Buford's heart. Let him put some oil on it. Doesn't anything touch you? Phil, every producer on Broadway has ulcers because he's trying to out-guess the public what they like this season they won't like next. It gets them all. All but you. All but me. What the public doesn't like last year or this year they won't like next. I keep faith with my public. Excuse me. Yeah. What? You sure? Thank you. You look a little pale. Phyllis, a cloud no bigger than a man's handkerchief has appeared on the horizon. That was the theater box office. So? People are buying tickets. In spite of the reviews, they're buying tickets. I think you better sit down. Why? Why are they doing this to me? They're pushing soggy tear-stained bills through the window buying tickets to my play. Maybe it's a trend. I always wondered about this, caught in a trend. Swept along on a torrent of tears. And inside my head, a hateful voice keeps saying, Johnny Ray, Johnny Ray, Johnny Ray. Mr. Purge, I was just passing the theater box office. I know, I know. Well, what can we do, Mr. Purge? Tell him, Mr. Purge. Tell him. Yeah, well, we could switch the first and third acts and maybe leave out the second act entirely. I think that would just make it better. You're right. Maybe if we close the show immediately, Mr. Purge. Localize the hysteria. It's an idea, Albert. Maybe not open in New York at all. It's the least I could do for New York. I was born there. You'll never get away with it. Phil, is that a line from the play? Come in, come in. Mr. Purge, I... Well, I didn't know you were here, Phyllis Honey. Buford, he's trying to close the play. I know. I read the notices, Mr. Purge. Let me tell him, Phyllis Honey. Tell me what? Maybe I don't belong on Broadway, Mr. Purge. Maybe the critics just aren't ready for my style of writing. So it's all right. Go ahead and close the show, Mr. Purge. Hmm? You see, after we read the notices together, I asked Phyllis to come back with me to Prescott City. What for? Well, to be Mrs. Buford lovejoy. That's a relief. I thought it was to join a junior chamber of commerce. Quiet, Albert. Phyllis, you're going back with Buford? If the show is closing? Yes. It is closing, Mr. Purge. Is it? Phyllis, would you call me Norman just once? I want to see how it sounds. Are you closing the show, Norman? Mr. Purge. It's all right, Albert. If this wasn't happening to me now, it would sooner or later. I just don't have it anymore, Albert. Norman. No. Once was enough. Buford, notify the Prescott City Junior Chamber of Commerce. They've got a hit on their hands. We open in New York in two weeks. Mr. Purge. What a gesture. Don't you feel better for having done it? More honest? Better? No. I feel more like an oil well. Pumping, pumping, till I've been pumped dry. But I guess that's show business. It was spring. It was summer. It was fall. It was winter again. It was Broadway. It was Broadway with the usual stage door crowd waiting for the star at the biggest Broadway hit of them all. Hang me on Thursday. And as the min-coded star comes out of the stage door, a ragged figure gazes for a minute and seeks to lose itself in a darkness. But... Purge is Norman Purge, isn't he? Yeah, it's Norman Purge. Why didn't you want me to see you? Well, I was just passing by. Have you seen my show? I could get you tickets. Please. I don't like seeing you this way, Norman. Oh, these clothes? As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to a masquerade party. You paid off your backers even though it cost you your entire fortune. You paid off the Prescott City Junior Chamber of Commerce. Well, it was the least I could do. Oh, you should be back up on top where you belong. Do you really think, Phil, do you really think that I could... No, I guess not. Of course you could. Buford's writing me a new play. We haven't gotten the producers yet. You mean... What's it like? Tell me about it, Phil. Well, I don't exactly understand the plot and the characters seem to have no motivation. Oh, sad. Yeah, thanks, Phil, for thinking of me. You won't... Thanks, but no, I couldn't stand another success. There's Music in the Air starring your favorite baritone, Donald Richards, with Francis Greer, Clark Dennis, Betty Cox, the Serenaders, and Alfredo Antonini's orchestra. It's a solid hour of wonderful music from CBS Radio's Playhouse in Times Square, bounded by Tin Pan Alley, the Broadway musical stages, and the Metropolitan Opera House. Tomorrow night and every Friday, there's Music in the Air on most of these same stations presented by CBS Radio. And now, Kathy and Elliot Lewis. For tonight's play, we are grateful to Bob Sweeney, who played Albert, faithful assistant to Norman Perch. To High Averbach, who left his oil wells long enough to be Buford Lovejoy. An unlikely name. And of course to Byron Cain, who wouldn't allow me into the office. Me? Next week, Love and Adventure in South America. The story, Cargo. And the authors, Morton Fine and David Friedkin. You know them best for Broadway's My Beat. Until next week then, thank you for listening. And good night. Good night. A poetic tragedy was written by Richard Powell. The Kathy and Elliot theme is by Ray Noble. Music for tonight's program was composed by Fred Steiner and conducted by Lud Gluskin. Kathy and Elliot Lewis on stage is transcribed and directed by Mr. Lewis. George Waltz speaking. This is the CBS Radio Network.