 Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Lureen Tuttle and I have been having a little argument as to the relative merits of... Having a little discussion regarding two different schools of literary thought. I've been maintaining a mis-surprise... You may call me Vincent. Oh, thank you, Vincent. I've been maintaining that our whole lives are enriched by the warmth and beauty of Romanticism. Romanticism, my dear Lureen, is for those weak, lily-livered individuals who haven't the courage to face the realities of life. Realism is life. Now, I'll take Eugene O'Neill any day in preference to Winnie the Pooh. And I'll take Cinderella any day rather than Hedda Gablin. Cinderella. Now, she's exactly what I mean. A smudge-faced juvenile delinquent, if you ask me. It's only one of the most beautiful fairy tales ever told. I defy any realist to tell such a moving story. Oh, you would, eh? Well, very well. To prove my point, I'll tell the real story of Cinderella. Very well, but ladies first. Please. To prove my point, I'll tell the romantic story of Cinderella. CBS Radio, a division of the Columbia Broadcasting System, and its 217 affiliated stations present The CBS Radio Workshop, dedicated to man's imagination, the Theater of the Mind. Tonight, Ed Vedier and Don Clark's dramatic excursion into the realm of realism versus romance, as the workshop presents Speaking of Cinderella, or If the Shoe Fits, starring Vincent Price and Lorraine Tuttle, special music composed and conducted by Jeff Alexander. Vincent, are you listening? Once upon a time in a faraway country, there lived a lovely young girl named Cinderella. Unfortunately, she had a cruel stepmother and two stepsisters who were hard-hearted and ill-tempered. Poor Cinderella worked like a slave during the day, and in the evening she would sit alone in the chimney corner among the ashes. Now, it happened that the king of the land was giving a ball, and all the people of rank and fashion were invited. And among these were Cinderella's two stepsisters. I'm really very well pleased that my two daughters have been invited to attend the king's ball. Oh, so are we, Mama. It has been rumoured that the king's eldest son, the prince, is to choose his bride from among the young ladies who will be present. Oh, the prince is so tall and handsome. So gallant and rich. And don't forget, one day his bride will become queen of the kingdom and will rule over all the subjects in the domain. Dear stepmother. What? Oh, it's you, Cinderella. What do you want? Dear stepmother, could I, too, go to the ball? What? You? Have you taken leave of your senses, girl? You have no clothes. Only those tattered or rags you're wearing. There are ashes in your hair. Your shoes are broken and sc... With very little trouble, I believe I could make myself quite presentable. You were skull-remade, presentable. I've never heard of such conceit. I beg of you, stepmother. A simple little dress. I could wear a flower in my hair. That'll be all from you, you impertinent ragamuffin. Back to the kitchen. Do you hear me? Back to the kitchen this instant. And so poor Cinderella went back to her chimney corner and wept bitter tears. She knew that she... Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Now, there's as fine an example of flap-doodle as I've been exposed to in my whole life. What do you mean, flap-doodle? This Cinderella character. By the way, you romanticist picture her. The poor girl needs an analyst. What on earth is she doing, groveling around in the fireplace getting ashes in her hair? Nobody could ever be like that. Now, do you want to know what really happened? Well, I don't think so. It would do you good, Lorraine. Facing reality, you understand. Well, this gal, Cindy, wasn't getting much of a break, but she didn't take it sitting down. She knew she had to play it smart. So when a rich man in town set out bids for a big wing ding he was throwing, Cindy was all ears. I'm certainly glad you girls have been invited to Mr. King's party. It should be real nervous. Yeah, when he throws one, it's really a rocket. You can say that again. The last one we went to, I was hungover for three days. I read in somebody's column, Winchills, I think, that the old man has given his son the word to get married and settle down. Get the possibilities? I understand the guy's quite a wolf. So what? And don't forget that someday he'll be a vice president of King Bettencourt Bagby and wince one of the biggest advertising agencies in the world. No wonder they call him The Prince. So if one of you girls latch on to him, you'll have it made but good. Hey, how about me crashing this brawl? You, Cinderella? You must be blowing your stack. Now I've heard everything. Ah, go up on the roof and feed your pigeons. Knock it off, you two are a belcher one on the tee. Don't pull any of your lady wrestler stuff on my gal. I would have been a champ by this time if you hadn't made me throw those last two matches. I had gorgeous glorious shoulders pinned to the canvas when you... What are you beefing about? You got your cut. Yeah, then you took me for the whole bundle shooting craps. Look, do I make this party or don't I? You don't. Besides, you haven't got a thing to wear. You're loaded. You might part with a little grab. I could pick up a nifty little number at Orbox for a few bucks. That's enough out of you, Cinderella. Get back to the kitchen and wash the dishes. And get the dried egg yolk off the plates for a change. Don't give me that lift, that load, tote, that bail routine. I got other plans. Cinderella, where are you going? Down to Dirty Joe's bar and grill, that's where. That horrible smelly dive down on the waterfront? I've smelled worse. But the dark workers are having label trouble down there. Don't worry, your empty head about me, Steppy. I can take care of myself. Be seeing you. But anything so outrageous, Vincent, you should be ashamed of yourself. Distorting that lovely story and making Cinderella such a horrible character. Well, at least she has spirit. She isn't the namby-pamby little goop you'd want the public to accept. My Cinderella is a charming child, unspoiled, sweet and naive. Oh, she's naive, all right. She's so naive, she's simple in the head. She ought to be in an institution. That isn't true. She has all the personality of an oyster. Why doesn't she stand up for her rights? Because she's a dear, obedient child. Well, a good psychiatrist might help her, but I doubt it's... Your Cinderella was trying to escape reality by indulging in daydreams about a fairy godmother. Fairy godmother, hee. It wasn't that way at all. You see, there really was a fairy godmother. You don't say. Yes. So, when her two step-sisters had left for the ball, dressed in their beautiful gowns, Cinderella went sorrowfully to the kitchen, sat down in the chimney corner and broke into sobs of unhappiness. At this moment, a beautiful fairy appeared. No, no. Stop your crying, my child. I am your fairy godmother, Cinderella. If you wish to go to the king's ball, you shall. But you must do everything I say. Yes. Yes, of course. First, bring that pumpkin out into the garden. Where shall I put it? Right there. Yeah, that's right now. I'll touch it with my magic wand like this. Bring me those six mice in yonder trap. Shall I do it? Put them there in front of the carriage. Yeah, that's it. So, a touch of my wand and... The golden harness and red and blue ribbons in their mains. Fairy godmother. Here, is this not a fit equipage to take you to the king's ball? Indeed. Indeed it is, but I have no suitable gown. All I have are these tattered rags. Ah, yes. We'll soon take care of that. Right satin gown, covered with pearls and diamonds and tiny slippers of glass. Spon as fine as Gossamer. How can I ever thank you, dear fairy godmother? By being happy. But hear me, there is one condition. You must not remain at the ball after the clock strikes twelve. If you do, your coach and horses will all return to their natural forms and your fine gown will again turn to rags. Oh, I promise I'll leave the ball at the very first stroke of twelve. Then off with you, my darling, and have a merry time. You've been so good to me. So very, very... And so, in all her fineries, Cinderella started off with the king's ball. Looking more like a princess than anyone would be there. Cinderella was very happy. Oh, what stuff and nonsense. Really, in all my born days, I have never... It wasn't that enchanting, my dear. Enchanting? It was appalling. Appalling? Moreover, it doesn't make any sense. Cinderella's stepmother obviously has money. She thinks nothing of getting Dior and Adrienne gowns for her daughters. But still, her place is overrun with mice and rats. Why, if the Board of Health... You are getting more odious by the minute. Odious, modious. Let's get back to reality. And the way the story really happened. Now, this Cinderella kid wants to go to the ball all right. But instead of falling back on her schizophrenic escape pattern, why doesn't she do something constructive? Now, actually, she does. Such as what? Such as this. When Cinderella left her mother's house, she was pretty steamed up about the treatment she'd got. So, as she said, she went to Dirty Joe's down on the waterfront where she could get a short beer and think things out. Hi, Dirty Joe. Hi, Cindy. How are your pigeons? Joe, you know Crummy. Crummy? Yeah. Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. Crummy who? You know, Crummy McRotter. Oh, him. He comes in here all the time, doesn't he? Yep. You see him tonight? Yep. You mean he's been in? Sure. When did he come in? An hour ago. Did he say where he was going when he left? Nope. How long ago did he leave? He didn't. Huh? You mean he's still here? Yeah. Over there. In the last boot. Oh, thanks. I mean thanks. Hi, Crummy. Hi, Brad Goyle. How's the pigeons? Mind if I sit down? What's to stop you? That sawed-off shotgun. Oh. I'll move it over here. Why the artillery? Things are tough on the water for right now, Brad Goyle. A boss wants us band boys to play soft, sad music as a warning to the dock wallop as the wind kicking in. Yeah. Who's the target for tonight? A guy by the name of Gus Googleheimer plays a glockenspiel. He run out on us. And what's on your mind, Brad Goyle? Look, Crummy, I'm going to put it right on the line with you. I need some dough. Oh, sure. Who don't? I need a slick drape. I'm sorry, Brad Goyle. You can't put the bite on me for nothing like that. I don't need much, Crummy. Just a couple of sea notes. Hey, what do you think I am? Your fairy godmother or something? You need some scratch. Get her from your old lady. She wouldn't give me a dime. That's too bad. Now, uh, the way I hear it, she keeps plenty of ice around her place. Hey, the wall's safe. Crummy, you got something there. You know how to crack a safe. You ain't just beating your gums, baby. I got 10 years in Arcatraz to prove it. All right then. Now, here's what we'll do. Listen. You getting it, Crummy? When you shut up and leave me, listen. One thing I've got to remember. Yeah, what's that? Except for the bracelet I'm going to give you for this caper. I've got to put back all the rest of the jewels before midnight. There's a time lock on this safe, and it's set for 12 o'clock. I got it open. Hey, there's plenty of loot in here. Wait a minute. Get your cotton-picking hands off that stuff. Oh, no. Here's a bracelet. Must be worth a grand, at least. Give me two C-notes, since it's yours. Then you better add an extra sawbuck for cab fare. Well, here's a 200, but not another cent. I made a suck of deal if you ask me. All right, all right. Don't give me the extra 10. It's nice to car to get to the party, that's all. You see what I mean? My Cinderella is a realist. She has spirit. Oh, really, Vincent? You know this whole thing is impossible. I don't quite agree with you. Your version of the Cinderella story is impossible. Mine is possible, but continue, my dear. I'm not sure that I want to, but I suppose I must, if any semblance of dignity and decorum is to remain in this lovely story. Well, when Cinderella arrived at the King's Palace, she was surrounded by porches who led her into the ballroom. All eyes were directed toward her, for everyone was struck by her grace and beauty. No one knew who she was. Even her cruel stepsisters did not recognize her. So rich and splendid was her dress. All the King's courtiers, one after another, asked Cinderella to dance, and they were all highly pleased with her grace and elegance, as well as enchanted by the wit and brilliance of her conversation. The Prince himself arrived quite late. Seeing Cinderella, he so admired her appearance and manners, he immediately offered her his hand to the dance. What a charming creature you are. Tell me your name, I pray. That I cannot do, sir, and please do not press me to tell it. I am sure you must be a princess from a distant kingdom. Really? What makes you say such a thing is that? No one but a princess could wear as magnificent a gown as yours, encrusted with precious gems and jewels. And no one but a princess could be so beautiful and so beguiling. You will turn my head with the sweetness of your words, my Prince. And indeed, what is that? It is the tolling of the curfew bell. What o'clock is it? Tell me quickly. It is midnight. I must go. I must leave at once. I beg you to stay yet a while for you to dance with the likeness of a butterfly on the soft summer breeze. I cannot stay. I cannot. My heart prompts me to tell you that I love you, for I have never seen a maid so fair. No. No, please let me go. Good night, my Prince. My Prince Charming. In her haste to leave, my beautiful princess has left her slipper behind. A slipper of glass spun as fine as gossamer. I vow I shall find my lovely princess if I must search all the kingdoms of the world, for I would make her my wife. Now there is a real basis for a successful marriage. The Prince has one dance with Cinderella. One dance, mind you, and he wants to marry her. But why not? I wonder what a marriage counselor would say about that. Must you be so literal? And she is such a birdbrain, she runs off leaving one of her shoes behind. It was a slipper of glass spun as fine as gossamer. And those two stepsisters of Cinderella's, they can't be very bright. They're right there at the ball, and they don't recognize her just because she's wearing a new dress. Now I ask you, what sort of an IQ would those two have? Now you take my Cinderella. You take her, and you can have her. My Cinderella has moxie. She goes after what she wants. No fairy godmother nonsense about her. When she arrived at Mr. King's party, the place was really jumping. The minute she wiggle walked into the joint, all the cats began to yell. Get a load of her, babe. Wow. It's a doll. A real living, breathing doll. Hey, lucky, lucky, how ya cooking? Get away from me, short, fat, rip, wholesome. Come on, sweet mama, how about finnin' on a cheek? Let's live it up for real. Drop dead, cornball. What's with you, beautiful? You mad in this mad, mad world? Mr. I'm just not playin' the field, that's all. What I'm lookin' for is the favorite. Where's the prince? In the rumpus room, lappin' up some corn squeezes, I suppose. Thanks, John. See you around the bow and alley sometime. Man, dig that crazy, crazy rock. Real cool, man, cool, yeah. Wow. Hiya, babe. You the character they call the prince? That's right. My old man is J. Walter King, a King Betancourt bag being winced. Sure, I know. You're in the advertising racket. Big deal. You know somethin'? You're okay. Sounds as if this advertising dodge pays off from blue chips. You mind if I park the bustle, my dogs are killin' me. Sit right here next to me, doll. That's it. Would you like a slug, honey? Yeah, I don't mind if I do. Double bourbon on the rocks for the tips of lemon peel. I like you, sweetie. You're a real dish of stuff. Oh, it's the spot. Fill her up again, Buster. You and your old men are throwing quite a bash tonight. I entertaining the sponsors is what they call an occupational headache. Oh, yeah, I'll bet. Met a couple of the jokers when I came in. Well, here's mud in your eye, Prince. Cheers. That's a real sharp bunch of threads, you're fillin'. Yeah, it's just a little something I picked up. And diamonds and pearls. Yeah, I picked them up, too. So you're the original man in the gray, flannel suit, huh, kiddo? I suppose one of these days I'll make vice president. How come you haven't pressured your old man before this? He's just made me an account executive for Bimbo's no-bunion shoes, but I think he's thrown me a curve. The radio and TV ratings are doin' a nose dive. What you need is a gimmick, Prince. Hi, you can say that again. Come on, they're playin' a rockin' roll, and that's for me, sugar. Okay, honey. Gimmick, I think. No giveaway, no panel. These kinda notes really send me. Gimmick, oh, dog, got it. What's the matter, baby? Tom wasn't my slipper. Hey, wait a minute, Princey. Wait a minute. I think I got your gimmick. What's with you? You're flippin' your latest something? Now, listen, I leave my slipper behind when I leave you tonight. Nobody knows who I am, so you put big ads on the newspapers and buy spots on radio and television. A coast-to-coast campaign, a big fill-up in value to find a Bimbo no-bunion shoe girl. You got it, Princey? Hey, I really think you got something there. Gumpin', catfish, is that 12 o'clock? Sure is. The time lock on the wall safe. This stuff's gotta be back there before midnight. I got a squirm outta here. What are you yakkin' about? If I don't get goin' right now, I'm a dead pigeon. Here's my slipper. You take it from there. So long, Princey. See how competent and constructive my realistic Cinderella has turned out to be? She's scheming and conniving and actually dishonest. She stole her stepmother's jewelry. Oh, nonsense. She only borrowed it for a little while. She's hurrying home right now to put it back in the wall safe. How about the bracelet she gave to Cummy? Don't you worry about my girl. She's ingenious. She'll find some way of getting around that. She's an uncouth, unprincipled creature. Well, at least she isn't inane and innocuous like your girl. But please, go on with your story. Thank you. The Prince searched everywhere for Cinderella. But alas, he could not find her. And when his search had quite failed, he grew ill with disappointment and vexation. Then the king, who dearly loved his son, called the privy council and asked his ministers what was to be done. They decided to send out heralds throughout the kingdom, proclaiming that the prince would marry the lady who could wear the tiny slipper's spun of glass, as fine as gossip. Ah, this slipper does not fit you, my lady. Dear, I'm so disappointed in Prince. Let me try, sister. I'm sorry. It does not fit you either. I don't so certain it would. Let the modest little girl who is standing back there come forward. Quiet is you, my princess. Despite your modest garments, you cannot conceal your identity from me. For I see you through the eyes of love. Now, we'll try on the slipper. Yes, my prince. It fits. The slipper fits. Come to my arms, my darling. My own true princess. My prince. My prince charming. And so they were married and lived happily ever afterwards. Now, wasn't that a sweet and lovely story? To be perfectly frank with you, Lorraine, I found it rather dull and pedestrian. Oh, Vincent. Well, in my version, there is action and excitement. Cinderella is real and colorful. I suppose your story has a sordid ending like so many realistic stories. She probably went to the penitentiary and the advertising man was sent to the Chicago office. No, Lorraine. Not at all. Not at all. Listen. Newscaster Thomas Lowell. The search for the Bimbo-Nobunyan shoe girl continues. She has been reported seen in St. Louis, Altoona and Tibet. Cinderella, turn off that radio. There are rumors that... I'm sick to death of hearing about that Bimbo-Nobunyan shoe girl. That's all you read about in the newspapers, all you hear on the radio or you see on the television. And that's singing commercial. Where is the Bimbo girl at who is she with the No-Bunyan shoe? Driving me nuts. Keep your hair on, kids. It'll be all over tomorrow. It's been the greatest search since Bridey Murphy. And dad, the ratings are neat 43. The Bimbo shoe sales are up 72.9. Terrific campaign. This makes you a vice president, my boy. I owe it all to you, Cinderella. Ah, that's okay, Princey. But when do we get hitched? Whatever you say, baby. We better see how soon we can line up the network so we can get full coverage. We want this wedding to be a real doozy. Bimbo's No-Bunyan shoes will sponsor the whole works. I better let the press and photographers in. They're getting impatient. You're smooth, Cinderella. Real frantic smooth. Oh, and Princey, you're the most. Well, Vincent, at least you had a happy ending. Of course. You see, Lorraine, there are all sorts of Cinderella stories. They happen every day, but they all end in exactly the same way. Even today, the beautiful girl can marry the handsome prince. And of course, they'll live happily ever after. Tonight, the CBS Radio Workshop has presented Speaking of Cinderella, starring Vincent Price and Lorraine Tuttle and directed by Don Clark, original script by Ed Vedier and Don Clark. The cast included Virginia Gregg, Jeanette Nolan, Louise Arthur, Jean Bates, Vic Perrin, Irene Tedrow, Harry Bartel, Sam Edwards, Peter Leeds, Jack Krushen and Byron Kane. Original music for tonight's program was composed and conducted by Jeff Alexander. The CBS Radio Workshop is produced in Hollywood by William Frug. This is Hugh Douglas inviting you to join us again next week when we present Jacob's Hands, an original news story by Aldous Huxley and Christopher Isherwood. And we are proud to welcome as our narrator the distinguished author, Mr. Isherwood, presented on the CBS Radio Workshop. Sunday, over most of these same stations, the New York Philharmonic Symphony will be heard playing the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor with Guido Cantelli conducting and Rudolf Fiercuszny as soloist. Stay tuned for five minutes of CBS News to be followed on most of these stations by My Son, G. America listens most to the CBS Radio Network.