 From Hollywood, California, the Lux Radio Theater presents George Arliss in The Man Who Played God with Florence Arliss and Dolores Costello. Lux presents Hollywood. Welcome to the Lux Radio Theater, the theater made possible by your loyal purchases of Lux Lakes and Lux Toledo. In the hour to follow, you will be entertained by George Arliss, Florence Arliss, Dolores Costello, Elizabeth Rizden and Ivan Simpson, and acting on the air, Mr. Arliss' great screen triumph The Man Who Played God, from the play by Jules Eckert-Goodman based on the story by Gouverneur Moritz. Our guest is the man Hollywood has just selected as the outstanding film director of the past year, Mr. Leo McCarrie, who, less than two weeks ago, received the Academy Award for his direction of the awful truth. Conducting our orchestra is Louis Silver. This program is produced by one of Hollywood's most famous citizens and pioneers. Your host, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Thessal B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. One of the most flattering sensations in life is to be asked for advice. One immediately assumes a dignified thoughtfulness and prepares to blossom forth with opinions. But for me, the dispensing of advice is no longer the delight it once was. For I have a little ghost that haunts me with an occasional reminder that I once advised George Arliss that I didn't think he'd have much of a chance at motion pictures. Wrong before Mr. Arliss became famous, he was acting at a combined dramatic school and theater at Margate, England. There he took notice of a girl who seemed to go out of her way to ignore him. One afternoon, to escape from a drenching downpour, Mr. Arliss dashed into the dark and empty theater and found that the young lady had proceeded him. They looked at each other, they began to talk, and out of the rain and darkness, a kind of magic was distilled. At the end of four minutes, he'd proposed and the girl had accepted. George Arliss and Florence Montgomery have been married now for 39 years. Mr. Arliss' tremendous success in plays like The Darling of the Gods, Disraeli, The Green Goddess, or Theatrical History. The most successful of these, Disraeli, started off as a failure. In one large city, they knew that Disraeli was a man but couldn't remember whether he was in the Old Testament or the New. In another, when Mr. Arliss injured his arm, he played the role for more than 10 weeks with his wrist in the sling. Greatly amused at overhearing people say, I never knew that Disraeli had only one arm. To which someone usually answered, oh yes, Disraeli always carried his right arm in the sling. Tonight, Mr. Arliss plays the role of Montgomery Royal in our adaptation of his brilliant Warner Brothers film, The Man Who Played God. Dolores Costello is featured as Grace Blair and Mrs. Arliss as Milrid Miller. You will also hear Elizabeth Rizden as Florence and Ivan Simpson as Battle. In the Lux Radio Theatre production, The Man Who Played God, starring George Jarlett, Hotel Suite in Paris, the handsomely furnished rooms are the temporary quarters of Montgomery Royal, the famous American pianist. It's the afternoon of his last recital in France and his sister Florence is feverishly sorting the day's mail. Battle, an elderly retainer who acts as a combined secretary and valet to the pianist, opens the doorway and stands there with a handful of mail. More mail, Mrs. Royal. More! Oh, this is getting out of hand, Battle. Yes, Miss. May I come in? Milrid, of course. How are you, Florence? Good afternoon, Battle. Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller. Sit down, Milrid. I'm just trying to get through this mail. This seems to be a great deal of it. I suppose they're Montes' love letters. From adoring French women and hundreds of requests for seats for tonight's concert. Oh, what lovely roses. Are these from adoring French women also? No, Grace brought those. Grace Blair? Yes. Oh, an adoring American woman. Where is Montes? He ought to be resting. Resting? Did you ever know him to rest when he ought to? He's out walking with Grace. She called with those flowers, so he's taken her out to buy her a doll or something. A doll? You're sure it wasn't a ring? Milrid, what are you talking about? Grace is only a child. A child of 25? I come to think of it. Grace must be nearly 25. Florence, don't you ever see anything that goes on under your nose? Don't you know she's in love with Montes? Oh, that's nothing. What about all these letters? But it isn't good, those people, private music lessons. Milrid, I believe you're jealous. Yes, I believe I am. I wouldn't worry. Montes too level headed to fall for a sweet young thing at his age. Of course, you should have married Montes years ago, if you'd had any sense. I hadn't. Well, you're an eligible widow now. It's not too late yet. Florence, there's one very good reason why I haven't married Montes. And I needn't tell you what it is. He hasn't asked you? Well, perhaps he hasn't thought of it. Why don't you remind him? But they recognized you, Montes. Those girls we just passed. Nonsense, my dear. Is it? Well, they have turned around. And here they come. Quick, they'll tell Grace. Monsieur Rol, Monsieur Rol, Monsieur Rol. Je vous ai recollé ceci. Vous êtes un pianiste. Je vous ai rendu jouer beaucoup de points. Vous allez signer nos livres, n'est-ce pas, monsieur? Oui, oui, oui. Votre musique est bien merveilleuse. Bon amie, moi, nous avons des livres pour la signature. Je vous embrouille, monsieur. Yeah, yeah, excuse me. Come on, Grace. Through the lobby, no stopping. Why do you pretend you don't speak French, Montes? It seems answering questions. Look, there's Harold Van Allen waving to us. Hello, Harold. Hello, Marnie. I'm coming to your concert tonight. May I take you, Grace? I'm going with Florence, thank you. Well, you can join the party, Harold. Well, au revoir. Come on, Grace, the elevator's waiting. Monsieur Rol, monsieur Rol. Oh, no, no. I'm fat again, mon monsieur Rol. Je vous ai attendu pour vous saluer. Désirer tant, monsieur. Yeah, yeah, yes. Je dirais vous approudir plus fort, naturellement. Oh, yeah, yeah. Monsieur, vous êtes un artiste, si merveilleux. Et je vous ai entendu, si toujours, OK? Excuse me, je n'ai pas compris l'homme de la France, excuse me. Oh, but I speak English too. Oh, oh, do you? You remember me, do you, Met? I crossed on the Olympia with you in 1931. Madame Lavel. Madame Lavel, oh yeah, yes of course. How do you do? Oh, monsieur, it is easy to see the young lady is related to you. I saw the likeness at once. Oh, really, yes, my granddaughter. Indeed. But I thought you were not married. No, no, I wasn't then. No, no, no, not in 1931. But I'm so glad you like her. Come along, Grace, my dear. Going up, we miss you. Monty, why did you tell that woman I was your granddaughter? My dear, Grace, you must give the public what they want. She wanted you to be my granddaughter. She didn't. She was just fishing. Besides, you know how terribly young you look. Yes, terribly is the word. Mr. Royal. Hello, battle. Come in, Grace. We were wondering about you, sir. Thank you, battle. Ah, Monty, here you are. Hello, my dear. We just had a nice quiet stroll along the boulevard. Not a soul-wrecking item. Not more than 50 or 100. Hello, Monty. Mildly, dear. Nice to find you here. Just a flying visit. Good afternoon, Miss Blair. Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller. A great chano is my protege. All great musicians must have a protege. So I thought I might as well have a good look out. You also have a sister who's been working her fingers to the bones. Ah, but look how I have to work mine on the bones tonight. Smiting the ivories, hip and thai. Well, good luck to you tonight, Monty. Oh, don't go yet, Mildred. I need your advice, as usual. Well, what is it? I want you to see these drawings come from the architects. Ah, here it is. Don't you think that's a lovely setting for a church organ? There's the inscription. To the glory of God and the memory of Margaret Ruth Royal. To the memory of your mother. I'm going to have it built in the little church in New York that she always attended. What do you think of it? It's beautiful. Good. You know, she was always conscious of the vibrations of the church organ in spite of her deafness. You remember Florence, how it affected her? We used to often see the tears come into her eyes. I didn't know your mother was deaf. Yes, quite early in life. It's the family inheritance. Her father and his father before him. A terrible inheritance. I think she'd like my giving this organ to the church. I beg your pardon, sir. I think you ought to rest. One moment. I've got something rather exciting to tell you all. It's about a king. King? You know I was going home a week ago when I suddenly decided to give this concert. Yes? Well, that was because I was commanded to give it by a real, live king. Nobody can command you. You're a king yourself. Well, then he approached me as one king for another and asked me to give one more concert that he might attend in Cognito. But why must he come in secret? I'm not sure. But I've heard that there have been some recent attempts on his life. Heaven's, Monty. I hope nothing will happen at the concert. There's an unfeeling woman for you. A king's life in danger, and all she thinks of is the incidental music. Well, I really must go. I'll see you tonight, Monty. Come back to my dressing room after the concert. Very well. Let me see you to the door. Good day. Until this evening. Oh, Grace, what are you looking so solemn about? You'd better say goodbye to me, too. I won't see you again. Yes, you will. I'm not going till tomorrow. But I won't see you alone. Oh, well, there may be a king or two present, but... Don't make fun of me, Monty. I will be able to follow you to New York for a month. Won't you? Well, mind you, practice five hours a day. I can learn more from you in five minutes than from anyone else in five years. You love music, don't you? I love you. Monty, I love you. Grace, Grace, my dear child. I'm not a child. You'll be foolish. And old enough to be your... You know I'm your grandfather. I don't care how old you are. I love you. No, dear, you don't. You love music. You love the successful pianist, not me. Paris has got into your blood. Everybody gets romantic in Paris. But I'm not just romantic, Monty. I'm an earnest. Wait till you get back to New York. You'll feel quite different. Will you try me? Try you? If I come to you in six months and say I love you, will you marry me? Well, but... Oh, don't you love me at all? Of course I love you. But I'm old and easily shattered. How can I help love you? Then you will? What? If I come to you in six months, you'll marry me? If you look at me with those beautiful eyes, I may not be able to resist you. Don't beat about the bush. Say yes. But... Say yes. Yes. Oh, Monty, darling. What a crowd. Isn't it marvelous? Anybody who looks like a peach? Our four seats aren't together. Harold, will you take care of Grace? With pleasure. No, I'll sit with you, Florence. Oh, no, you won't. You young people will sit together. You come with me, Mildred. Well, we might as well sit down, Grace. May I take your wrap? Thank you, Harold. Oh, I believe I'm excited. You seem to be. After Mr. Royall sales tomorrow, I suppose I may have a chance to see something of you. What do you mean you're always seeing me? I'm always calling to see you, but you're generally otherwise engaged. Harold, don't start that again. I want to listen to the music. Well, there isn't any music yet. Why do you carry those enormous bracelets? I like to watch the movement of the fingers. Here it is. Oh, the painting? No, it wasn't a novation. Never sees anyone who wants to come to the show. Shut the door, battle. Don't let anyone in. Yes, but Monty. Well, come in quickly. Monty, you are marvelous tonight. Thank you, Grace. How did the king enjoy it? The king, dear lady, didn't turn up. Court man, as I suppose. Then Mr. King really missed something. I've never heard you so inspired. New dream. That's my very nicest compliment. Thank you. Monty, there are at least 100 autograph books for you to sign. Let battle do it. His handwriting is so much better than mine. And then get behind that piano battle and shoot anyone who calls me maestro. Mr. Royall? Yes? His Majesty the King. Your Majesty. Maestro. Never mind, Betel. Excuse me, Your Majesty. I hope you will forgive me. Your Majesty was busy. Busy. My aide can tell you how busy. His Majesty's guard broke down as he was unavoidable. I am overwhelmed with shame. And I would have given my ears to have heard you play once again the Moonlight Sonata. Would you? Well, if your Majesty will lend me your ears, you shall hear it now. That is generous of you. Will you be seated, Your Majesty? But thank you. Thank you. Get away from that window. Your Majesty, are you all right? Yes, but Mr. Royall. He has unheard your Majesty. He saved my life. Mr. Royall. Mr. Royall, I owe my life to you. How can I ever thank you? Your Majesty, will forgive me. But I can't hear what you're saying. What? Mr. Royall. Nondi, what is it? There is no sound. Nothing. Nondi, what do you say? The shock. I shall never play again. Don't say that. Don't look like that. Mildred, my dear, I'm stone dead, just as my mother was. Finished the first act of the man who played God. And in a moment, George Arliss and our co-stars will be back in act two. But during our brief intermission, we'd like you to come along with us to an amusing place where everybody speaks in rhyme, even the judges, the lawyers, and prisoners in the courts of law. We take you to a courtroom in this strange land of rhyme right now. Here we are in the presence of a jury and a defendant. And the judge is about to enter. Court will come to order. The judge is coming in. Bring the prisoner to the bar. Young woman, what's your sin? Your Honor, I don't think it's bad. But goodness, I am blue. My husband gets so angry, and so I come to you. This court is here to listen to crimes against society. My husband said my hands are a crime against propriety. He says they look so wrinkled and so old and rough and red. Because I wash the dishes. That's not half of what he said. Now let's take up the problem. You wash dishes every day? Oh, why not eat on paper plates, then throw them far away? Why, that's all right for picnics or a quick informal bite. But when dishes are attractive, to keep them too inactive? Well, of course I really might. But do you think it would be right to keep them out of sight? Hmm, that's a sticker. Now let's see, rough hands, spoiled tater-tates. Suppose you have your dinner and just not wash the plates. Your Honor, I'm a housewife. My home is always clean. I wouldn't dream of such a thing. Oh, all you men are mean. Now don't speak like that to me, my dear. I'm sorry. Ah, now listen here. I've now got information on the cause of your mistakes. I put you on probation to wash dishes with luxe flakes. Every wife of every station can now avoid heartaches. Keep hands from your ination by using mild luxe flakes. His Honor is right. To keep your hands white, get luxe flakes tonight. You see, this rhyming business is contagious. But so is the use of luxe flakes for dishes. Women who try it are so delighted with it that they tell other women. You too will find luxe not only makes dishwashing quicker and easier, but keeps your hands lovely, soft, and white. The kind of hands men admire, the kind that every woman wants to have. Use luxe flakes for dishes. And now, Mr. DeMille. The man who played God starring George Alice with Florence Alice and Dolores Costello. Five long months have passed, and Monty has learned that his case is hopeless. But he will never hear again. Embittered, he shuts himself away from the world, seeing only three people, his sister and Grace and the man who instructs him in lip reading. In his New York City penthouse, high above Central Park, he's receiving his final lesson from the instructor. And now, Mr. Royal, I'm going to give you the final test. Yes. I'm going to place my fingers almost over my lips and see if you can read what I say. John, from that window I can see the people walking in Central Park. What did I say? From that window I can see the people walking in Central Park. Good. How did you get that? Mainly from the muscles of your throat and jaw. Well done. Try again. The flowers are blooming, the sun is shining, and God's in his head. The flowers are blooming, the sun is shining, and God's in his head. Splendid. Well, you're a remarkable student, Mr. Royal. Thank you. I'm afraid there's no use of my coming anymore. I should be sorry to lose you. Impress on your friends not to try to help you by mouthing their words. They'll only mislead you. I don't allow many visitors. No, you should. Goodbye. Oh, Mr. Royal, try not to be irritable. And don't try to fight against faith. You're not a musician. No, I'm a philosopher. Goodbye. What's the use of it? Words, yes. No music. No music. Monty. Oh, it's you, Florence. Why don't you come straight in instead of creeping up behind me and pushing me? I'm so sorry. You're in battle always talking behind my back. I can't have you left alone. I know perfectly well I'm a mill soon around your neck, but you needn't make me conscious of it every moment. Monty. Well, Grace come yet? No, but Mildred is here. You wish to see her? No. I guess. I should like to see Mildred. Come in, dear. Monty. Well, Mildred, this is my den. The lion's den, you know. Florence. Sit down. How do I speak to him to make him understand? Do I speak loud or slow or how? Speak naturally, that's all. I can understand you. You heard what I said. No. I didn't hear. I read your lips. Read my lips? How wonderful. Oh, Monty. Why are you crying? Because you find me changed, eh? Haven't I got reason to be changed? But I'm glad you've come. I've missed you. I've often wished to talk to you during these five silent months. You didn't answer my letter. I knew you only wrote because you were sorry for me. You should know me better than that, Monty. But I can talk to you. You've always... Mildred, you believe in God? Yes. I've been studying the Bible lately. Listen. It says here, are not five sparrows sold for two farings and not one of them is forgotten before God? Do you believe that? Yes. If he knows everything, why does he let such horrible things happen? Monty. You've only left me my music. Mildred, I've withdrawn my promise for the church organ. Why? Because I won't be a hypocrite. He struck at me. He struck at my mother. Why should I glorify his name? Perhaps someday you'll learn why. I can't believe that he makes mistakes. Mildred, the Bible is a great book, but I'll tell you what it has taught me. You who... There is no God. You who were so tender, so good. There is no God. You shut yourself up here and brood on your afflictions. Do you know where this will lead you? Yes, the madness. I thought of that. And how easy it would be to end it all. I thought of that too. Don't say those things. Monty, you've never had to test yourself before. Test myself? I'm not speaking of music. I'm speaking of life. You've had everything, wealth, talent, social position, but you've never really suffered. A man who has never suffered has never lived. This is not suffering. This is a living death. It's your first great test. Are you going to fail? Are you? Hello. Hey, Mrs. Miller. Good afternoon, Brie. I'm so glad to see you. What do you think of Monty? Stop that. I won't have anybody ask what they think of me. I know what they think of me. He's a bad child sometimes. Sit down, Mrs. Miller. I was just going, Brie. Oh, don't let me turn you out. He sees too much of me, you know. But I must go. Goodbye, Monty. Goodbye. Thank you for coming. How are you today, Monty? Why do you say I see too much of you? You know I look forward to your coming. Monty, you make it very hard for me to say goodbye. Goodbye. You knew I was going to Santa Barbara? To the Chittenden's? I'm leaving tonight. But I thought you were leaving tomorrow, Wednesday. Today's Wednesday, dear. Oh, is it? Well, one day's so much like another to me. Well, I've lost a day. That's some consolation. I feel terribly about leaving you. If I hadn't promised... Of course you must go. You need a change. Why should I need a change? Too much of me. Beginning to tell on you. Monty. Why are you carrying those few glasses? Are you going to the races? No, not exactly. Mother and I are... Oh, Monty, you know how I love the piano. We were going to the concert this afternoon. Do you mind? Mind? It's the first piece title I've been to since. Since yours. Does it seem rather heartless for me to go? Why shouldn't you? You are taking these glasses to watch the fingering. I remember. You used to watch mine. Yes, I always watched yours. Well, I don't think I can bear it. I won't take them. Nonsense. Why not? Anyone else going with you? No. Oh, yes, I think Harold Van Allen is going to be there. Oh. Isn't I a young fellow? Do you think so? Harold? He's all right. Well, I won't keep you. Have a nice holiday in Santa Barbara. I'm quite envy of you. Why don't you come? No, thank you. I might read their lips too freely and find out what they say about me. No, thank you. I suppose there'll be crowd. Oh, just old friends, I expect. Van Allen's an old friend of theirs, isn't he? Yes, I believe he is. I suppose he'll be there. Harold, I shouldn't be surprised. Grace, you know, if you turn your head away, I can't tell what you're saying. Will Harold Van Allen be there? Yes. Monty, do you remember what I said that day in Paris? I meant it, Monty. I mean it now. I know. Goodbye, my dear. Enjoy yourself. I'll see you the moment I come back. Goodbye. Goodbye. Don't come away from the window, sir. I'm afraid you'll catch cold there. You'll catch cold with the window open, sir. I was looking down into the street. There's a fascination about height battle. I don't wonder if people are giving way to sudden impulse. Mr. Royl. What's the matter? Nothing, sir. I was about to suggest, oh, Mr. Royl, if you don't try to play again. It's so long since you've touched the piano and you're violent. Play again? I wonder if I could. Sit down, sir. Try it again just once. If I touch these keys, there'll be music in this room. Music. I can't do it. I can't. The strike, the notes in here, no sound. Ghostly. Terrifying. Battle. Have these things taken away. And my violin, I can't bear the sight of them. Mr. Royl, if you don't... Don't argue with me. You want to drive me mad? Don't you know that these things are human to me and they're mocking me, mocking me. Get this piano out of the house. And this, my violin. We've played together, you and I. Well, we'll never play again. Mr. Royl, that was foolish of me. Why did I do that? My violin. My old friend. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I've taken your life. I've taken your... Not all? Yes, Mr. Royl. I want to be left alone. Alone, sir? Yes. Alone. Go. Yes. Yes. No voices. Nothing but silence. Forever. The silence of the two. Mr. Royl, come down from that window, sir. Oh, Mr. Royl, for God's sake. Why did you stop me? I have nothing to live for. You have everything to live for. Tell me one thing. One reason why I should live. For others. For those who love you. I'm a burden to those that love me. That's not true. You think I'm blind as well as deaf? You and I see you all groaning and suffering for me? Because you suffered too. We've tried to help you. Can you give me my music? No. Nobody can do that. But there are other things. You are thinking only of yourself. It's cowardly of you. That's what it is. You're a man and you're supposed to have a man's strength. You ought to set an example of courage to other deaf people, not turn, tail and sneak out of the world. You're a coward, beastly coward. A coward? Mr. Royl, forgive me. A coward. And I thought it took a great deal of courage. To do what I was about to do. But you're right. It's easier to die than to live. Don't ever try to do that again. There's so much beauty in the world. And so much that is ugly and brutal. The trees and the flowers in the park. Look at them, sir. Nature's beautiful. But it's working as a cruel. I see no guiding hand. No method. No meaning. Here. Look through these field glasses, sir. The flowers. You can almost count the petals through these. Look, sir. Look. Here. Trees and flowers. And cripples and beggars. Hunger and strife. And flowers in hopeless confusion. How absurd to believe in a merciful God. There's joy and happiness too. You can't have just one thing. It's contrast that makes life so wonderful. Yeah. There's sickness too. There's a young fellow walking down there. Looks as though he hasn't long to live. The girl's got a hold of his arm. These are very strong glasses. Very strong lenses. I can read their lips. What are they, sir? Do you want me to be an eavesdropper battle? I want you to see and understand them as fortunes of others. Troubles that are worse than your own, sir. They're sitting on the bench. He's telling her that the doctor has just told him. He has to go away. A long rest. He has no money. The girl holds his hand. He's crying a little. It'll cost at least a thousand dollars. There's your God of contrast battle. This boy's going to die. Die like a neglected dog because he has a thousand dollars. It's a wonderful world for some people. It would be for him, sir, if only. If only he had the money. If he had a thousand dollars. If he had a little. Yes, sir. I want you to take a note down of that, boy and girl. Take a note. Sit down and write it. Yes, sir. Ready, sir? If you'll give the bearer your name and address, if you will give the bearer your name, you can't figure it any other way, darling. I need a thousand. There's no chance of getting it. I guess that's all. No, no, I won't let you say that. There must be a way. There must be. I don't see how. We can't get married. I guess we never will now. It's tougher on you, honey. Tougher on you than on me. Don't say anything. Don't speak, Ed. What is it, honey? I'm praying, Ed. Praying to God. Maybe I won't be hurt. Hunch. I'm praying to him now. Honey, don't. It's no use. It's just the way things are. He can't help us. I beg your pardon? Yeah, what is it? I have a note for him. For me? Yes. But you don't know who I am. Will you read it, please? What does it say? If you will give the bearer your name and address, the person who has overheard your conversation will take pleasure in sending you the thousand dollars. Ed. But how could anyone have overheard? There was nobody around here. There couldn't have been. Who wrote this? I'm not at liberty to say. Will you write your address here, please? Shall I? Yes. But I want to know who did this. Who sent that note? Shall we say it was a man who, for the moment, played God. Good luck, dear sir. Ed. A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars. Who did it? Who? Ed. I prayed to God and he heard me. He prayed for it. He prayed for help and he thinks that God, God, at last they've got a good joke on him. I wonder, has he the laugh on me? This is Columbia Broadcasting System. The curtain falls on the second act of the man who played God. And following this short intermission, George Alice continues in Act Three. The awards of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences are given each year for outstanding achievement in acting, directing, writing, photography, and the many other arts and sciences that enter the making of a film. A few days ago, the gold statue proclaiming him as the outstanding director of 1937 went to Mr. Leo McCarey, director of Columbia Studios' exquisite comedy, The Awful Truth. Mr. McCarey's genius for comedy is mixed with a rare appreciation of pathos and drama. After directing Eddie Cantor, Harold Lloyd, Laurel and Hardy, and the Marx Brothers, Leo turned round and gave us ruggles of red gap. And more recently, that tear-stained documents of parents and children make way for tomorrow. Welcome, Leo, and congratulations. All great directors like to talk, Leo, so begin. I'd rather hear the third act of Mr. Harless's play. But in the meantime, we want to know something about you. How did you get your start in film? Well, CB, to tell you the truth, when I started directing, I tried to pattern myself after you. I'll never forget the first big mob scene. The crowd made me nervous, but I decided to handle them with a firm hand, like you would do it, Mr. DeMille. The scene was supposed to be the San Francisco earthquake. Excuse me, Leo, but San Francisco people refer to it as the fire. Well, I'm from Los Angeles. The scene was the San Francisco earthquake. I climbed the platform and started explaining the scene to the crowd. On the first signal, I said, I want the crowd to rush in from out of the building, from the buildings on the left. As I said this, a little fellow raised his hand far in the rear. Don't interrupt me, I said. Kindly wait until I've finished. I'm sure that's the way you would have handled it, Mr. DeMille. Yes, that's probably the way I'd have handled it. Then I continued. On the second signal, I want another crowd to run in from the right. And again, the little man raised his hand. Quiet, I ordered. I asked you to wait until I was through. I'm sure that's the way you would have handled it, Mr. DeMille. Now I had absolute quiet. I was the master of the situation, and I felt it. I completed my instructions and sent for the little man. Now, what is it that you wanted to say that could possibly be more important than what I wanted to say to 350 people? He looked me over from my helmet to my patiss and replied, I only wanted to tell you that we couldn't hear a thing back there. I'd have handled that with a megaphone. Well, that's what I thought, so I got one. But I'll be dined if the same little man didn't raise his hand again. Completely out of patience, I asked, what is the matter now? He says, well, I was in San Francisco at the time of the earthquake. It happened to be five o'clock in the morning, but you feel that most of us would be wearing nightgowns. And I call lunch. I'm positive that's the way you would have handled it, Mr. DeMille. Oh, thank you, Leo. Lunch has saved many a delicate situation. Now for the awful truth. Directing that picture, I must have been almost as much fun as seeing it. Well, it didn't start out as smoothly as you might imagine. No. No, I'm sure Irene Dunn would have been happier if the starting date had been postponed. Kerry Grant arrived on the set with his manager and suggested that his part either be built up or cut out. Even an extra man came to me and said, I just read the script, Mr. McCary, and if you don't mind, keep me in the background, will you? But that dog you had in the picture, that clever, wire-haired Terry. You mean Mr. Smith? Yes, at least he was your friend, wasn't he? He didn't complain about his part. Well, he didn't say anything. He bit me. But don't get the impression that the cast was wrong, because as a matter of fact, they were very right. I sent out a hurried call for the writer, Venya Delmar, and all during the making of the picture, she worked day and night developing the story. Many of the suggestions we used came from Irene Dunn and Kerry Grant, and I mustn't forget Ralph Bellamy. And the only thing that would make me happier would be if I could make another picture written by Venya Delmar with the same three stars. Have you given us some highly hilarious scenes, in your own opinion, which is the most memorable in your career? Well, the scene that stands out in my memory was anything but humorous, CB. It was the... it was Ruggles of Red Gap, and the scene in which Charles Lawton recites Lincoln's Gettysburg address. It's still referred to as one of the finest moments on the screen. And you deserve a world of credit. No, I don't think so. Why not? Well, you see, Mr. Lincoln wrote it, and Mr. Lawton spoke it. I just enjoyed it. Well, during 20 years in pictured Leo, you must have acquired some peculiar habits of superstition that might be very interesting. Well, yes, CB, I do have a superstition. Just one, and it's terrible. I can't seem to overcome it. Well, what is it? Well, I'm superstitious about making bad pictures. I just sort of feel they don't do anyone any good. So long, CB, and congratulations on your fine program and your excellent product. You make a pretty good product, too. The curtain rises on Act 3 of the Man Who Played God with George Alice, Florence Alice, and Dolores Costello. In the loneliness of his room, he is far above the park. Monty has made his peace with God by reading the lips of those less fortunate and giving them aid. It's a few weeks before Christmas, and Monty kneels in the center of the room unpacking a crate of toys, singing as he works. Battle enters and stands beside him. Oh, you old battle-ex. Getting ready for Christmas, sir. Well, what if I am? Singing, too. Was I? Well, I never had any voice you know, and I always wished I could sing like Caruso, and now I can. Can you, sir? In my own estimation? Yes. I sing, and I can't hear a sound, so I imagine I'm singing like Caruso. It's a great thing sometimes not to be able to hear. Ah, well, were the children in the park pleased with the toys I sent them? Didn't you watch them through the glass? It's rather luck in this battle. It's a great work you're doing, sir. Oh, no, not great. It's luck. But I've got a grand idea. I'm going out. Going out? Yes. I thought it all over. I'm not going to be a hermit anymore. Shall I get your hat, sir? No, no. Not now. Christmas. Christmas? You see, Miss Grace is coming back. Is she, sir? I'm glad. Yes. Seems too good to be true. Well, at Christmas, I'm going with her into all sorts of toy shops, and I'm going to watch the children and find out just what they want. I shall be on the inside of the shop, you see, and they'll be outside looking through the window, and I can read their lips. And then you take the toys out of them. It's a great idea, Barton. It's a beautiful idea. A beautiful work, sir. The work will be yours, you see. You'll have to carry the toys. Oh, don't go yet. Sit down. Sit down, Mildred. Here. Let me make you comfortable. Why, I believe you're really glad to see me. I am. But you're so changed. What's happened to you? I'm living again, Mildred, and I'm having the time of my life. Grace comes home today, doesn't she? Yes. You know, Mildred, I used to think I could only bring her misery, but now I'm very happy. What has changed you, Monty? These. Those fields, Barton? Yes. I've learned things up here with the stars. Things that I never dreamed of. What things? The doubts and fears are only shadows. For long months I shut my eyes, and in the darkness I railed against God. I cursed and hated and cried out in defiance. And when my hatred was most bitter, he answered and sent me lead. You look up there and read the stars. No. I look down there, in the park, and read their lips. I hear the despairing cry of those who suffer in doubt, as I suffered in doubt. And you? You answer their call. Yes. I take a hand. You see, I'm so close to God up here that he's taken me into partnership. Come out here, Mildred, and see my roof garden. See down there? Those people in the park? They were only strangers to me once. Shadows I passed and never noticed. But I'm close to them now. I know their hopes and their fears, their happiness and their misery. They need comfort and help. And you give it to them? Well, I do what I can. Is little enough. Monty, there's something sublime about this. Only business with kind on earth? Absolute monopoly. It's been your salvation. My salvation? Through God. It was he who did it, Mildred. Now you must excuse me a moment. I must see if there are any more customers down there. These glasses are remarkable. I never get over the one rock. Ah, here's a young couple coming round the pal. The park's a great place for lovemaking, you know. Mildred. Yes? Who do you think it is? Someone you know. Grace. Grace, looking like one of the flowers. And young Van Allen with her. Grace and Harold? Let me look. Wait a minute. What a stunning frock she has on. And the very latest thing in her. Can I tell you what she's saying? Monty, give me those glasses. Don't snatch. Be careful of them. Don't spy upon her. Talk to me until she comes in. Spy upon her? What do you mean? Your friend. What is it? I told you, nothing. But it seems like looking through the keyhole. Mildred, I don't hear a gossip, you know. Has there been any? Don't talk nonsense. Give me those glasses. If there's anything I should know, it's better to learn it this way. Monty. I'm going to read their lips. It's for her sake, too, you know. Sit down, Grace, just for a moment. I can't, Harold. But I've got to speak to you. I've got to. When I said goodbye at Santa Barbara, I told you that was the end. Why do you follow me to his door? Because I know that once you enter that house, you're lost to me. I flung myself at him when he was well and famous. I can't desert him now. You've no right to gamble your whole life away just because of one rash promise. It's no use, Harold. I can't leave him like this. I can't. But you're leaving me, and you love me. You do, lovely. No, I do. Well, then don't ruin our happiness just because you're sorry for him. Go and tell him you've changed your mind. Harold, I'm going through with it. He's been cheated of so much, I'm not going to cheat him now. He's put his faith in me, and I won't be a quitter. Grace. Grace, dear, I won't argue anymore. But don't leave me yet. Sit here with me, please. Just for a little while. Monty, look at me, please. You knew this, Minuted? That she loved him all the time? I wasn't sure. But you see, they're both young, and I was afraid. Yes, and they're both young. I've been very foolish, but she was always so, so dear to me. Does it hurt terribly? It hurts terribly. I'd better go. She'll be coming up here. I wonder what God would do in a case like this. We had a barbeque dinner, and I cooked the steak. Monty, you're not interested. Of course I am, Grace. You've hardly said two words to me since I came. Just sit and look at me. What is it, Monty? I have to look at you to understand you, to read your lips. What did you do while I was away? Nothing, everything. Florence tells me you changed your mind about the organ. You gave it to the church, after all. Monty, what's the matter? Aren't you glad I've come back? Yes. You haven't told me so. Perhaps I was waiting to see if you had anything to tell me. But I've been trying to tell you. I mean about Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara? Oh, there's nothing to tell about that, the usual round. Nice people there. Anybody we know? Mainly their western friends, yes, Harold Van Allen, of course. But let's talk about ourselves. Do you know you haven't even kissed me? That's better. Monty? What? You made a compact with me. I've come to hold you to your promise. Must you, Grace? Monty? Our compact was made six months ago. It's a long time. But I gave you my word. I mean, you gave me your word. I'd like to break my word. Monty, why? Because you have such a beautiful nature that I don't want to lose you as a friend. I don't know what you mean. Something has happened to change me. When? Today. What is it? Who is it? You. Me? But how? You remember these? My field glasses? You remember you left them behind? Well, they turned out to be fairy glasses. By looking through them, by looking at people in the park, I can see everybody's life, just as it is. Everybody's thoughts, just as they are. Monty. Don't be frightened. I saw you in the park, Grace. You. You read our lips. Yes. Which mean a pretty bad light, doesn't it? Eves dropping. But you see, I wasn't quite prepared for what I was to hear. Monty, you don't think I've been deceiving you, do you? No, dear. You've just been deceiving yourself. I did love you. I do love you. Grace. Since I've been living up here, close to the sky, I've learned many things, things that hurt me, but left me spiritually better. It was music that brought us together. You know that, don't you? Yes. It was a love founded on perfect harmony that we never looked ahead. Our love was music, but you see, dear, a string snapped and the music ceased. Not all together, Monty. You'll always be my idol. I shall always be your friend. Goodbye. You behaved like a gentleman, Grace. And perhaps I admire you more than I could ever have loved you. Monty. Goodbye, my dear. Getting to be worried, Mrs. Miller. She said he was going for a walk in the park among his customers, as he calls them. But I expected him back. Do you think he might have gone to look at the organ? He might? He's often said he meant to sneak in one day. Thank you, Baffle. I'll go to the train. Oh, God, send him peace. Send him happiness. Give him strength. Monty. Mildry. I'm so glad. I... I came to see the organ. I did, too. And to pray for something, Monty. What? You might be the first to touch the keys to play upon it. No. No, I can't. I couldn't stand it. It's there, Monty, in the loft. May I go up with you? I'm an organ. Grand. The last time you played, it was for a king. This inscription says, to the glory of God. Won't you play for a king again? Sit beside me, Mildry. Don't leave me, please. Won't you play? Yes. For the king. So ends the man who played God. We'll hear again from Mr. Alice in a moment. A while back, there was a wave of interest, you all remember, on the subject of child marriages. The question arose, what is actually the age of the average bride in this country? Melville Rueck has an answer for you. Here are figures based on 60,000 marriages in a large eastern state. The average age of marriage for girls was 22. 65% of the brides were under 25. Of course, these figures don't tell the whole story. For as everybody knows, women who are truly charming can marry at almost any age. Charm counts a lot more to a man than how old a woman is, how well educated, or how much money she spends on herself. For example, no man knows how much a woman's dress costs. He does know if it's becoming and dainty and charmingly feminine. Undoubtedly, that's why charming women the world over are luxe users. For luxe flakes are made to keep your rocks just that way, to keep the colors and the fabric fresh and new looking. You can count on these gentle flakes to care for anything that's safe in water alone and to keep it beautiful an extra long time. To guard charm, use luxe flakes. Now, our producer. Our debt to Mr. Alice extends beyond his superb performance. He expected to leave for Hollywood this week to return abroad, but altered his plans in order to be with us tonight. I'm sure Mr. Alice that I speak for all your listeners in wishing you and Mrs. Alice on voyage. Very kind of you. Thank you, Mr. Mille. The broadcast of the Israeli on this stage brought me a large number of very charming letters. Very many from middle-aged and elderly people to whom it recalled present associations of their earlier life, about 25 years since I first played it. My wife and I were very gratified to find that the broadcast was able to bear comparison with the stage production. I had one letter of a more personal character from a very young lady who said that her mother didn't care for her to go to the theatre, but she always allowed her to see my pictures because I was married to Mrs. Alice. Of all the response from the film version of The Man Who Played God, the most satisfying was from a group of deaf people who for the first time learned from the picture of lip-reading. They studied it and they wrote to me and said that it opened to them a new and happy life. If our play tonight has given you entertainment, I shall feel very happy. If it has brought to you something a little beyond mere entertainment, I shall feel still more gratified. Good night. Good night, Mrs. Alice. There's wonderful news of next week's stars and play coming to you in just a moment from Mr. De Mille. First, may I say that in our cast tonight were Ivan Simpson as Battle, Elizabeth Brisbane as Florence Royal, Leonard Willey as Mr. Appleby, Evelyn Keyes as Girl in the Park, Reginald Sheffield as Boy in the Park, Vernon Steele as the King, Frank Nelson as Herald, Michelette Birrani as Madame Louvelle, Charles Evans as Usher, Lewis Merrill as a Manager, James Eagles as Aid to King, Edith Nestier and Lou Lorraine as French Girls, and Elizabeth Wilbur and Georgia Cain. Lewis Silver's appeared through courtesy of 20th Century Fox Studios, where he directed music for their new picture, Sally, Irene and Mary. And now, here's Mr. De Mille. A week from tonight, the Lux Radio Theatre will echo to the unforgettable melodies of Victor Herbert. Sweet mystery of life falling in love and Italian street song, all of which tells you that our play will be that tremendous success on screen, Naughty Marietta. Making special trips from New York to be with us, are two of the greatest and most popular singers heard today in grand opera, motion pictures and on the air. Mr. Lawrence Tibbet and Ms. Helen Jeppson. Naughty Marietta is a dramatic play of old New Orleans. Ms. Jeppson will be heard as the runaway French Countess and Mr. Tibbet as the reckless American soldier. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night, when the Lux Radio Theatre presents Lawrence Tibbet and Helen Jeppson in Victor Herbert's immortal romance, Naughty Marietta. This is Cecil B. De Mille, saying good night to you from Hollywood. Here is the Melville Root. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.