 Ladies and gentlemen, the jaws of Schlitz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin presents the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. I was curious. I tasted it. Now I know why Schlitz is the beer that made Milwaukee famous. If you like good beer, you'll find it pays to be curious and learn about Schlitz for yourself. And now the Halls of Ivy. The College of Ivy and the Town of Ivy, USA. Dr. William Todd Hunter Hall, president of Ivy College, has all the troubles common to college presidents. They consist mostly of fiscal matters, financial affairs, and money. As he's often been heard to say, a man in his position must be one part babysitter, one part mediator, and 98 parts panhandler. But Dr. Hall has at least one advantage over his scholastic opposite number. He has a wife named Victoria, formerly a glittering ornament of the English musical comedy theater. And now the epitome of what a tired man should come home to. Now what a lovely room this is. Not an old grad in sight. Vicki, are you here? Yes, Dr. Todd, Todd, had a rough day. Oh, not too awfully bad. I have pledges of $151,000 toward the new gymnasium. Well, that's wonderful. $150,000 seems like a great deal of money. Yes, yes it does, until you remember that these are pledges, not cash. I suppose there is a difference. There is indeed. The same difference that exists between the sudden slight illness of a wealthy uncle and the reading of the will. Is Penny ready with the tea? Right here, sir, and some of your favorite biscuits, too. Thank you, Penny. Yes, mum. How many times must I tell you, cookies, not biscuits? We are now in the United States of America, and we speak Mr. Truman's English, not the King's. Yes, mum. I'll keep trying, mum. Lifts his elevators, trams his streetcars, lovies his trucks, and a dope is a prize fighter's fist. Cookies, she says. Oh, stop grizzling, Penny. There you are, William. I'm glad you've brought Penny over here with you, Victoria. The way she makes tea should cement British-American relations for years to come. Yes. Yes, and the way she makes coffee would dissolve the cement overnight. Has anything happened today? Well, I think there was a young man named Gray who wanted to see you. He came three, four times. He's rather emotionally upset. Emotional upsets are not infrequent among college-age young men, Bickey. They are psychic growing pains. Ah, that's probably Mr. Gray. You'd better take care of his growing pains and call me when he's cured. I'll be in the kitchen. Tonight, I'm making the coffee myself. A gentleman to see you, Doctor All, and Mr. Millott. Mr. Millott? Millott? Well, he couldn't be the... Ask him in, Penny. Right in here, sir. Hello? How do you do? Well, Penny, please take the things away, will you? Unless I can offer you a cup, sir. No, thank you. Dr. Hall, I'm Mike Millott. Yes, I've seen your picture in the paper. What did you wish to see me about? Well, Doctor Grapevine says you're out after some dough for a new gym, is that right? The grapes on your vine are a little overripe, Mr. Millott. It's rather common knowledge. What about it? I want to give you some. May I ask you a question, Mr. Millott? Sure. But I warn you, Doc, I've been questioned by experts under brighter lights than you've gotten here. Go ahead. What business are you in? Well, that's a fair question. I got a string of dry cleaning joints. That's on top on the bottom. I make book. Bookmaking is not legal operation, Mr. Millott. Legal or illegal, Doc, depends on locations. Horsebooking is against the law in this country. In England, it's legal. And I suggest you make your donation to Oxford. That's in England. I ain't got a kid in Oxford. You have a kid attending Ivy College? Yeah, son. I didn't know that. Hell, not many people do, Doc, and I want to keep it off the record. He's a good boy. I want to see him get the breaks that I didn't get when I was a kid. In a cold water flat laying on a cheap mattress with a piece of billiard cue waiting for the next rat to come out of the plaster. Mr. Millott, I fully sympathize with your intention of giving your son the advantages you lacked. I'm not asking for sympathy, Doc. I'm asking for a square deal for the kid, that's all. Ivy College does not sell square deals, Mr. Millott. We have here the sons and daughters of rich men, poor men, beggar men, thieves, doctors, lawyers, and merchants of almost everything. I doubt if anyone here expects more of a square deal than he is entitled to through hard work, decency, and a certain civilizing contact with his fellows. How do they get this contact? I should think that would be obvious in classes, fraternities, sports. Yeah, but Eddie ain't getting it. Why, isn't he? I don't know. He's got a nice personality, but no nice friends, only Stooges. I want to get him into a fraternity, and don't tell me that ain't for sale. I do tell you that. Now, wait a minute. If this school gets, say, a quarter of a million bucks toward a new gymnasium, you mean nobody can pull hard enough to get a boy into a fraternity? Mr. Millott, I'm afraid your somewhat violent training has distorted your social viewpoint. Well, break that down. I shall. You, Mr. Millott, have had too much experience with special privilege. You've spent too many years purchasing crooked policemen, aldermen, judges. You've made yourself a power in the land through money, through fear. You are a totalitarian. If your son wishes to... Does he, by the way, know that you are here in his behalf? He knew it. He'd slog me. Good. What? I say good because now I'm interested in Eddie. Eddie who, by the way, I gather he is not using your name. Oh, great. Eddie Gray. I'll talk to your son, Mr. Millott, but I'm afraid I must refuse your donation to our gymnasium. You mean my money ain't good enough, huh? Oh, money has no status of its own. It's merely a medium of exchange. The only question that arises is, what would we be expected to exchange for it? In this case, special privileges to one Eddie Gray. However, I am impressed by any boy who has the integrity to poke his father in the nose for attempting to buy him into the good graces of his fellows. You don't accept a donation, huh? Not yours, Mr. Millott. Well, that's my personal reaction. I may be overruled. Uh-huh. Well, okay. Wellman thought you might take that attitude. Wellman? Yeah. You mean Mr. Clarence Wellman of our governing board? Mm-hmm. He really wants this gymnasium, you know? Well, thanks for the conversation. Uh, you don't have to go to the door with me. I, uh... I won't steal anything on the way out. The only thing I have which you might want can neither be stolen nor sold, Mr. Millott. Good day. I'll be seeing him. A quarter of a million dollars. All I'm afraid your vaunted integrity will someday get you a fine position running a filling station. Would I be too inquisitive, Toddy, if I asked what Mr. Millott wanted? Oh, so you recognized him, eh, Vicki? Uh, I recognized his voice. I've heard him in the courtroom, in newsreels. I never forget a voice. He's, um, arrogant, isn't he? He has the arrogance of purchasing power. A man who has lifted himself by his own bootleg if I may perpetrate a mild punishment. Uh, Vicki. Yes, yes. See if you can get a student named Eddie Gray to come over and see me, will you? Certainly. Uh, oh, Eddie Gray? Well, that's the boy who's been trying to see you all day. Yes, he's Mike Millott's son. No. I'm anxious to talk to him. His father is a sterling character. Devaluated. I want to see how far the devaluation has gone. I was curious. I tasted it. Now I know why Schlitz is the beer that made Milwaukee famous. There's a story behind those words, a pleasant story that may suggest something equally pleasant to you. So before we return to the halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman, here's a curious artist who tell us about the masterpiece he discovered aboard a steamer. I'm a portrait painter, and other people's faces are my fortune. So it isn't surprising that studying faces has become almost second nature with me. Just last month, for instance, during my trip to Bermuda, I was in the lounge pretending to read a magazine, but actually watching a man drink beer. As the beer passed his lips, you could see his expression change from pleasant anticipation to complete satisfaction. But the more I watched, the more distracted I became. Instead of just observing the man's expression, I found myself wondering what it would be like to taste a beer that could give so much satisfaction. I took the trouble to look at the label on the bottle. The man was drinking Schlitz. I'd heard about Schlitz, of course, but I'd never tasted it. So I called the waiter and ordered a bottle. I discovered that Schlitz was more than a work of art. It was a masterpiece. Here was a beer so fine and so distinctive that the complete picture of its goodness could only be painted by tasting it. As I sat there drinking my glass of Schlitz and enjoying every drop, I happened to glance into the mirror. There was that same look of satisfaction I'd seen before. Only this time, I was wearing it. As an artist, I'd doubt my beret, if I had one, to the beer that can command such a reaction. No wonder they call Schlitz the beer that made Milwaukee famous. That's around us. I'd be aware, Mrs. Hall is asking a question. Would you prefer to be left alone with a boy, William, when he gets here? On the contrary, Vicki, I wish you'd stay. One of the reasons I married you was so that I could utilize your understanding for young people. Or did you think it was just because you were beautiful, charming, and I loved you very much? Well, I really don't think you had very much to say about it, Toddy. The minute we met, I decided to marry you. And with typical British tenacity, I followed through. Any regrets? No, no, no. I've liked it from the first. And not only for the usual reasons. Love and affection and admiration and all that. Historically, our marriage has perspective. It has, dear? Yes, England has always been married to America. All they may bicker a bit, criticize each other's manners, argue over the paycheck, but let one of them hear a burglar in the middle of the night and they start helping each other look through the bureau drawers for the family revolver. Which, for some reason, they never keep loaded. Yes, I always think that... Was that the doorbell? Yes, it must be Mr. Gray. And you do want me to say? Oh, please, you can be maternal while I am in Loco Parentis. Well, whatever that is, dear, I'm sure you'll do it very successfully. Mr. Gray, yes, Penny, a young gentleman to see Dr. O. Well, bring him right in, Penny. Yes, sir. Just step in here, please, sir. Thank you. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hall. How do you do? Hello, Doctor. I'm Edward Gray. I'm sorry I was out when you called before Gray. Won't you sit down? Thank you, sir. I think we've met before, Mr. Gray. You were kind enough to carry some books out to my car at the bookshop last week. Oh, that was all right. I was just in there, killing a couple hours anyway, buying some magic stuff. Magic stuff? Parlor magic, Doctor. It's kind of a hobby. Look, I'll show you. Here's a deck of cards. Take one. Anyone? Very well. This one. Okay. Now put it back in the deck. Remember the card? Yes, it was the... No, no, no, no, don't tell William. Go ahead, Mr. Gray. Okay. Now I shuffle the deck. Fire a pistol, which I just happened to have in my left hand. And if you'll look up, Doctor, I believe that's the card you selected fastened to the ceiling with a thumb tag. Well... Very interesting. How did you do that? William, please, one never asks a magician to reveal a trick. Oh, I'm sorry. That was very well done, Gray. Sir, I have a lot of time to practice. I don't belong to any of the organizations around here, so... Well, that's why I wanted to see you. Why, what do you mean? I think maybe I ought to leave Ivy. That seems a little drastic, Gray. Have you discussed this with your faculty advisor? No, sir. My faculty advisor is Professor Bolton. He's a droop. I mean... Oh, don't apologize, Mr. Gray. I think he's a bit of a droop myself. Who would he be a droop? Yeah, just maternal. Exactly, why are you unhappy here, Gray? You've been getting good marks. Oh, I don't have any trouble with studies, Doctor, but the guys... I mean, the men and girls I'd like to go around with. Well, I seem to attract just the free ride, kids, if you know what I mean. May I make a suggestion, Eddie? If I may call you Eddie? Oh, sure, Mrs. Hall. Get rid of that big, shiny convertible. Send it home. Get a broken-down Jalofi. Jalofi is the word, my friend. Its origin is obscure, although etymologists believe there is some slight connection with the Mexican word Jalop, which is a purgative tuberous... Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to be pedantic. You were saying... Well, I was telling Mr. Gray to get rid of that big, flashy car. Also, Eddie, your clothes are too good. Too obviously expensive. How do you expect to be one of the gang when you ride around looking like a Maharaja? I think Mrs. Hall has a definite point there, Gray. A lot of Ivy students are working their way through school. How do you think you look to them in your $200 suits and your $5,000 car by... By Good Heavens, I resent you myself. Gosh, I never thought of it like that. I always had that stuff, and I wasn't trying to throw it around. Eddie, will you do something for me? I don't think there's anybody in the school that wouldn't do anything for you, Mrs. Hall. Oh, thank you. And the Junior Follies is just six weeks away, and we need you. Me? You need me? Oh, gee, what for? Well, we're rather desperately in need of a good act in one. In one what? In one. In one. It means in front of the curtain while they change the scenes. And if you do a magic act for 10 or 12 minutes, you'll be one of the most popular men in the school. Hey, I'm not good enough for that. Well, you'll have six weeks to brush up, Graham. You said yourself you don't know what to do with your spare time. Well, I... Oh, but look, I'll just have to have something to say, won't I? I can't just stand up there and throw rabbits around. Can you meet me in the auditorium at, say, three tomorrow? Have you a class then? Oh, sure, but for this I'll cut it. How about my pattern? The word is pronounced Pater, my boy, and I think he'll be very pleased when he hears the truth. No, William, no, no. He said Pater, not Peter. Pater means a monologue. All the magicians have a line of Pater, Eddie. And I can write to one this very evening that can't possibly fail. Oh, gee. Please watch me closely and you will notice that as I perform this feat, my hands never leave my arms. You're not the sort of thing. Tomorrow then. Oh, it's a deal, Mrs. Hall. Thanks a lot, Doctor. This has been wonderful. Yes, I found it rather interesting myself. Let me know how you get along, Eddie. A good day. Bye, sir. Bye. Bye. Vicki, if you pull this boy out of this sensitive isolation and make him one of the crowd, it'll be a magic act of which you may well be proud. Oh, not since, dear. He's really a nice boy, not a cry. He'll be all right. And if he makes a fraternity, then maybe you can accept his father's donation to the gymnasium. Oh, I think it's not, Vicki. I don't want to seem a stuffy moralist. I'll get it. Doctor Hall's residence? Oh, yes, Mr. Merriweather. Yes, of course I'll tell him. Yes, he'll be here. No, no, not at all. Goodbye. Mr. Merriweather. Yes. He and Mr. Wellman have something they wanted to discuss with you. Three guesses, dear. This is a certainty. Mr. Merriweather and Mr. Wellman have been asked or have volunteered to make me change my mind by coercion, persuasion, blackmail or blunt instrument. And can you offhand think of a blunter instrument than Mr. Wellman? Oh, dear. Nor a duller one. Oh, I hope to goodness they're not going to stay long. Dinner tonight is especially for you. Lentil soup. Ah, lentil soup. Ha, ha, ha. With little bits of sausage swimming about in it. Ho, ho, ho. Wishing they were being eaten at Luchows instead of Halls, eh? Ha, ha. You remember Luchows on 14th Street, Vicki? Of course I do, darling. You took me there the night I landed in New York. Lentil soup. Venous schnitzel. Strawberry pancake. Ha, ha. And I was the slim young actress with the new wardrobe who was about to open and give them tears. Personally, by the time we'd walked all the way to Central Park, I was hungry again. Someday, Vicki, I shall endow the city of New York with a special Central Park bench. The Victoria Cromwell Memorial Bench for the exclusive use of lovers. And you could put a little brass plate on it that says did you sit here? And it gently rains. And you stay anyway. You have the blessings of William and Victoria. Better put your hat on, Toddy. It's raining. Oh, it isn't raining very hard. It feels rather good. It's refreshing. But, um, I don't want you to catch cold. Oh, I won't, dear. I've walked miles in fog worse than this. You won't miss London and England too much, will you, Vicki? If I was still Victoria Cromwell, I'd probably miss it terribly. But as Mrs. William Pod Hunter Hall, geography doesn't seem very important. Who means more to me than where? Let me put my coat over your shoulders a little more there. And your hands are getting wet. I know. But if I put my gloves on, I can't look at my ring. I'm afraid it's a very little ring. Darling, it's the biggest thing that ever happened. I love it. And I love you. And I... And I borrow your hand just... Thank you. Well, we'd better go. Your cheeks are getting wet. Not from the rain, Toddy. I always weep when I'm happy. I think you should know it now, because I expect to be doing the lot of it. I hope you'll never have to weep for any other reason, Vicki. Where your tears are concerned, I'm all for private ownership of water power. Oh, my dear, you're so... Well, well, well now. What's all this? Oh, hello, officer. It's a lovely evening, isn't it? No, it isn't. It's raining. Oh. Why don't you go home? I'm paid to stay out in it, but you're not. I'm being amply compensated, officer. So don't worry about us. My wife and I like the rain. Oh, your wife? I thought you were sweetheart. Well, I guess I don't have to worry about you two carving your initials on the bench. Good night to you. Good night, officer. Oh, cynical fellow. Doesn't think husbands and wives can be sweethearts. I think we should teach him a lesson. Oh, sorry. Have you a jackknife? I'm going to carve two hearts entwined on this bench. W-T-H loves B-C. I think I... Sorry. Oh, watch a little thunder. It isn't raining hard enough to... Sorry? It isn't thunder. Someone's knocking. Well, let them knock our first night in New York. William, dear, there's somebody at the door. At the door? What door? Central Park hasn't any... Oh, the door! Maybe it's a good thing I... might have carved our initials on the piano. Oh, Toddy. Toddy, you are an incurable daydreamer. Yes, I'm afraid I am, Victoria. Incurable. And incredibly lucky. That's why. Because my darling few daydreamers can return to an actuality one half as pleasant as mine. Mr. Maryweather and Mr. Wellman to see you, doctor. Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Maryweather. Oh, thank you. Sit down, gentlemen. Thank you, Mrs. Hall. I won't keep you but a few minutes, doctor. You probably know what we're calling about. Yes, I think I do. It's about an offer of a quarter of a million dollars for our new gymnasium, Dr. Hall. Am I correct in believing that you refuse to accept it? Quite correct, Mr. Wellman. Personally, doctor, I don't think you'd turn down a sum of money like that without some very good reason. Clarence here and some of the other board members are pretty upset about it. I'm upset, did I say? Dad said their ulcers were jumping like popcorn. The Board of Governors had a right to be upset, Maryweather. As badly as this college needs a quarter of a million dollars. Yes, yes, yes, we know, Clarence. It's a lot of money, but money isn't everything. It's almost everything. I'll admit. But let's give Dr. Hall a chance to explain. How about it, Dr. Noy? It's very simple, Mr. Maryweather. To me, at least. Well, to me, it's a down-like... Be quiet, Clarence. A witch burner. Gentlemen, when an institution dedicated to shaping the characters of future citizens accepts money from a dubious source, it must also be prepared to accept the accusation of undue influence. I couldn't agree with you more, doctor. And I couldn't disagree more, Maryweather. The source of this donation is not important when you consider the benefits of a new gymnasium in this college. Mr. Wellman? Yes, sir, Mrs. Hall. Mr. Millott warned my husband that you wouldn't care for his attitude. He was right. I don't, sir. I'm sure he had no intention of disturbing any friendly relations that you might have with Mr. Millott. What friendly relations? Is that hoodlum a pal of yours, Clarence? Certainly not. Don't be an idiot, Maryweather. I know the man only in a business way. Business? What business would you have with Millott? Oh, it was a long time ago, and not important. I had stuck in some cleaning establishment, and Millott used his influence. That is, we had a little labor trouble. Is this general knowledge, Mr. Wellman? No, I don't think so. Oh, I hope not. But the point is, doctor... The point is, Clarence, that you're a dead duck. What a juicy item for the papers. College official uses influence to take donation from ex-gangster friend. Good gracious man, you don't think... They'd hang you from the chapel, Steeple, and you know it. That's bad money, Mr. Wellman. You can't take it. I'm sorry if you disagree. He doesn't disagree. Neither will anyone else on the board when I explain it to him. You're right again, doctor. I don't know why we can't seem to learn that. Come on, Clarence. Very well. What a quarter of a million dollars. It's a lot of lettuce, but there's too much oil in the dressing. Good night, doctor. Good night. Good night. I think you handled that very well, William. It was Merriweather who handled it, my dear. Merriweather and you. Hi. My dear girl, now don't look so innocent. That sympathetic remark of yours about not wishing to disturb the tender relationship between Wellman and Malat. That was blackmail. Sheer, downright, beautiful blackmail. And, uh, yes, Penny? Dinner is served, sir, and will you be in this evening? Yes, Penny. No, Penny. What, dear? We're going for a walk. We're going to go for a walk after lentil soup in the park. Now, let me think. Where did I put my jackknife? I was curious. I tasted it. Now I know why. Slitz is the beer that made Milwaukee famous. And here again are Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. My dear, there are times when I think that you should be president of Ivy College. What else should you think that? It was a popular belief that the female of the species is devious, indirect, and entirely intuitive. Personally, I find the methods of your sex appalling list straightforward. I once wrote a two-line verse on the subject. What, how? I called it advice on practical plumbing, but it contains a rather atrocious pun. It went something like this. For that difficult task, just go to your bench and select for the job an adjustable wench. Honestly, that's very amusing, Dan. If you'd excuse me, I'll go and adjust myself for dinner. Certainly, darling. Good night, everybody. Good night. Next week at this time at the Halls of Ivy starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. The other players were Herbert Butterfield, Willard Waterman, William Conrad, Gil Stratton, Junior, Ted Osborne, and Gloria Gordon. Tonight's script was written by Don Quinn and Walter Brown Newman. Our music was composed and conducted by Henry Russell. The Halls of Ivy was created by Don Quinn, directed by Matt Wolfe, and presented by the Joseph Schlitz-Browing Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Ken Carpenter speaking. Over most of these same NBC stations.