 Your family theater presents John Charles Thomas and Esther Williams. In cooperation with Family Theater Incorporated brings you Man with a Plow, starring John Charles Thomas. To introduce the drama, your hostess, Miss Esther Williams. Thank you, Jean. Tonight we're happy to have an old friend of Family Theater back with us again. John Charles Thomas. In a play written for us by Carl Neymorris. Mr. Thomas' role, perhaps I'd better tell you something about our story for this week first. If you haven't heard of Jackson County, and if you've never heard of Bear Creek, you still may have heard of Noah Stevens. He is a giant of a man with the strength of three, full of honesty and integrity. And on this golden afternoon at the end of Indian summer, with the hills already beginning to turn blue and cool, you can just barely make out a hulk of a man following two black mares. His voice is raised in song. This is Noah Stevens. And the last doper, Sadie. You're the luckiest, you're the laziest mare I got on the whole farm. Get up, get up there. And don't think I don't know what you're thinking about either. Yes, sir. Come on, don't you get lazy too, Bertha. You're only a five-year-old out to greet us. Aren't you a long one? But all you'll get in Bear Creek this late is crawdads and carp. Can I ride in your plow, grandfather? I don't know about that, Tim. If you slipped off the beam, I'd be likely to plow you under. Oh, no, you wouldn't. Ah, you'd be surprised how many young sprouts get plowed under every year. Tell you what, though, you can ride a striped bertha if you've a mind to. Okay. All right, then. I'll swing you up. Up you go. Oh, boy, swell. Shall I drive? Oh, I'm afraid we'd plow a mighty crooked furrow if we did that. Nope, you just ride along and I'll handle the lines. Here we go. Come on, Bertha. Sadie. Come on, Sadie. Two more furrows and we'll head for the barn. I heard you singing. Clear down at your creed. Was I? I wouldn't be surprised. My mother says you could have been a real singer on the stage if you'd wanted to be. You don't tell me. Why didn't you be a singer on the stage, grandfather? Well, then I couldn't have had the Bear Creek farm. You couldn't? Well, that isn't likely. Then I couldn't have had four sons and two daughters. Not to mention seven grandchildren. Can't singers on the stage have children? Oh, can't they? Yes, I suppose they can't, Timothy John only. Mostly they don't seem to get around to it. Mom says you named them out of the Bible. All six of them. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John for the boys. Ruth and Naomi for the girls. Now, what do you suppose Jeff wants this time? He's sitting on the fence waiting for us. Chew it on a wheat straw, no doubt. His horses look awful scrawny, don't they? Poor critters. So does his barn, Lucy. Improvident. What's that mean? Well, never mind for now. Good afternoon, Jeff. Howdy, Mr. Steven. Woo-hoo, city. Woo-hoo-da. Want to see me, Jeff? I got my spring wagon stuck in the mud hole. Oh, there, Timothy John. Come to the hub, cabs. Well, let's get over the fence and have a look. I ain't tongue or don't they fix his county road, Mr. Stevens. Look at it. Whole countryside dry as dust this late in autumn and there's this piece of road wet as a swamp. Well, there's an underground spring along here. Most farmers take the cut off around this stretch of road. It ain't right. County ought to do something about it. Third time this season you've been stuck in this mud hole. Show me that plank out of your wagon. Yeah. Team on the hand of my horses. Don't need any extra horses. You've only got a spring wagon here. 1,500 pounds of wagon here. Timothy John. Yes, sir. You want you and me both to get skinned alive? Now you keep back out of this mud hole. Now then, Jeff, get a hold of your reins and get your horses' tails up. You gonna lift that left hind wheel out of the muck? When I say, when I say go, you give those critters the whip. You ready? Come on, you, Bill. Come on, Nero, wake up. Come on, you, hey, Barnard, get your heads up. All right, Mr. Stevens, keep with my own eyes. Yeah, that's what's known as putting your shoulder to the wheel. You lifted that left axle up like it was a sack of shavings. I sure do thank you. And I'll bet you'll never see 60 again. What's that got to do with it? Oh, I only meant... Get in your wagon and go around by the other road next time. Sure, sure. There's no offence, Mr. Stevens. Hmm. Come on, Timothy John. Do the same for you sometime, Mr. Stevens. Here. I'll lift you over the fence. Oh, you sure are strong, Grandfather. I'll bet you could put your hand on the top fence rail and jump right over it. I probably can. Let's see. You did it! You aren't mad anymore now, huh? Mad? For Mr. Turnbull saying how old you were. That's a terrible weakness, Timothy John. A bad temper is a terrible weakness, and it's been following at my heels and nagging me as long as I can remember. But you're strong, Grandfather. Well, that's worse. Physical strength and an uneven temper is a wicked combination. That's what bullies are made of. You're not a bully. Oh, I pray every night I'm not, Timothy John. Come on, Bertha. I say did. Last furrow for the day. Headin' for the barn. Come on, girls. I like you strong, Grandfather. Well, I'll tell you, Tim, I eat all my spinach when it's put before me. Oh, Grandfather. That's right, Timothy. Every smidgen of it. Come on, let's sing that cowboy song I taught you. Your milk supply, old girl. You finished with Letty already, John? Gave down her milk like a leaky force. Honey, here's mad at something. You have to take every drop away from her. She isn't giving a thing. Well, you studied psychology in college, Ruth. Why don't you talk her out of it? Easy, girl. Easy. Well, I finished my string. I'd better start in on Dad's. Well, it looks like he intends to plow until bedtime. Here he comes. Doesn't he ever get tired? Listen to me. You're the milk maid tonight, Ruth. Uh-huh. Tonight's Naomi's turn to help mother in the kitchen. You're late, boss. You finished your string already, John? Yep. Just got started on yours. Well, we'll be through here in a cat jump. Steady, Louisa. Steady there, girl. Well, I'm glad to be through with you, Brad. There. What's the matter with Brownie? Oh, she's mad at something. How much did she give tonight? About three and a half gallons, more than usual. Well, bless her heart. Let's keep her in bad temper. If it'll increase her letdown. Uh, Father, tomorrow's Sunday, and Naomi and I want to ride into Mills Grove for church with John in the car tomorrow. What for? Well... Automobile's no way to go to church. Oh, Father. Your mother and you children and I have driven the Surrey into church since Matthew was born. People are supposed to be quiet and reverent and thoughtful when preparing to pray. You think you can't be reverent in an automobile, Dad? No. Oh, Dad. Are you forbidding Naomi and me to go with John? You and mother always just barely arrive for the 11 o'clock service, and after all, there are young people's activities before. And besides, there's a certain young man. John. Why you blasted good-for-nothing beef steak? What happened to you, Dad? Louisa kicked over the bucket. That's what happened. Well, well, an old hand like you. But Louisa never kicks. What did you do to her, Father? Oh, I got just what I deserved. Lost my temper. I got Zacon found it upset about you and Naomi tearing around in that automobile on Sunday. Oh, I'm sorry, Louisa. I'm awful sorry. But, Dad, you own an automobile and you drive it. Not on Sunday. However, I know as well as you do there's no harm in driving a car on Sunday. No harm in the act, I mean, but the automobile's an instrument of speed. Speed allows you no time to think. And if you don't think, how can a man meditate on his shortcomings and figure how to overcome them? How can a man commune with God if he doesn't think? You still have the quiet of your bedroom at night. It's not enough. Oh, that's all, Melinda. Easy, girl. Easy. Well, Anne, I'll did herself tonight. Look what I got. Uh, look, John, why don't you go start the separating? I'll help Father with the last of his strings. All right. I'll pour my milk in the can and get started. There's only the bald face and pinky left. Listen to Dad. Yeah. Oh, Ruth. Yes, Father? You're a good girl. I know you are in my heart. So, if you want to go to church tomorrow on the back of a cyclone, why, you go right ahead and do it. Thought I didn't hear it go off this morning. An alarm clock in this house about as much as a chicken needs two heads. Your father has always insisted on an alarm clock. I think the coffee's done, Mom. Oh, do you have the peaches sliced? Uh-huh. Well, as soon as you see John beginning to let the cows out of the barn and to pasture put the biscuits in. Oh, boy, farm life. What? You don't like it? Oh, in some ways it's wonderful. But, Mom, don't you think Ruth and I are too old to have to milk cows and do farm chores? Honest to goodness, we're the only girls in the whole county. That doesn't seem to have hurt you. Too pretty a girl. But I'm in my last year in high school and Ruth's home from college. Your father thinks... Dad should have been a bearded patriarch back in the Bible days. Naomi. Well, he should. Ruth and Naomi, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Golly, Mom, are we living today or back in the Old Testament? Your father is very highly regarded in this modern world. Oh, sure, sure. He's the justice of the peace. He's a member of the school board. He's on the county planning commission. Do you know why that is? I think I do. Sure. Because he has the best Guernsey Bull in the county, an old war-eye, the best percher on stallion. And all the other farmers want to breed their stock. Shame on you, Naomi. The people of this community look to your father because he's a fine, strong, dependable man. He has ideals and he lives by them. He wants his whole family to have the same reputation. Well, I don't blame Luke for pulling up and going into town. He, for one, got away. Oh, there go the cows. Put the biscuits in. Well, anyway, Ruth and I get to ride in a mill's grove with John in the car. Let's wash up the kitchen utensils while we're waiting. We'll be busy with the dishes and changing the beds and sweeping up after breakfast. We won't have much help from Ruth. Well, I know one thing. I'll milk cows for my father, but if my husband ever mentions cows to me, I'll divorce him quicker and you can say scat. What's that? Oh, Noah, I didn't hear you come in. I'd better get the bacon and eggs in the fire. Just a minute, Naomi. Yes? Did I hear you mention divorce? Uh, never mind now, Noah. Naomi was just talking to hear herself talk. I still hate the word divorce. But, Father... Listen to me, child. I'm not trying to force an idea on you. There's reason behind my feeling. Will you listen to me? Of course, Father. Divorce is the evil in our civilization which has fasted and come to a head. It's all things negative in our life. It's not a laughing matter. It's not amusing. And it's not a condition to be taken lightly. Divorce is the death of family life. The word itself is evil in all its connotations. If it is all this, do you wonder, I insist, and it doesn't belong in this loving household? I think Naomi understands you, Noah. Do you, Naomi? Yes, Father. Thanks for listening. Well, Ellen, looks like you and I are alone in going to church behind the horses this morning. We'll take the light rig and give our high step and ruby a little exercise. Now, hasn't this been a nice trip into the village, mother? Very pleasant. Why anyone wants to burn up the road in a car? Now, Noah... We've heard... we've heard meadowlark sing. We've inhaled the lomy smell of new turned earth. We've had time to cast our eyes about and enjoy the beauties of the countryside. I'll go into church this morning feeling one with my environment. One with my maker. The automobile? Whoever heard a meadowlark sing from a car. Or if you do, it sounds as though the notes were being torn from the poor bird's throat by pure physical violence. Aren't you going to turn here? We've got a few minutes before church time. I'd like to drive through the village square and pass the old schoolhouse. The janitor says the lawn is dying. I want to see for myself. Noah... Well? Did it ever occur to you that you might be expecting too much farm work from Ruth and Naomi? Fiddlesticks. Especially milking night morning. They're grown up young ladies. And fully capable of taking their share in the day's work. But young women of today... Are spoiled. Headstrong. Given to heedlessness, vanity, mockish romanticism with no sense of their responsibilities to themselves, their community, or to civilization. My daughters are going to know that satisfaction in this life and contentment in their spirit can come only by good work and hard work and the sense of knowing how to do and doing it. Of course, Noah. Hello. What's going on in the village square? Why, there seems to be a crowd congregated. Easy, girl. Easy. Mostly men. Why aren't they in church? We drive by. Noah, isn't that a man on a platform or something? You worry about all the land and gentry who've grown back off your labor and my labor and the good things which come out of the earth and which belong to you and me just as much as they belong to him. What this country needs is a cleanin' out, a turnin' over or a lusnery way takin'. Why should the rich landowner live with his well-fed wife and his well-fed children? Agitator. Hold these lines, Alan. Noah, you stay in this bungalow. Take these lines. Noah, Stephen, you come right back here and get in this bungalow. While you and I and our wives and our children eat the crumbs from his table and keep our noses to his grindstone, there are other ways of life that you folks don't know anything about. Other countries are takin' up with them. Other people know about them. A kind of life where they ain't anybody got any more than anybody else. Everybody's got exactly the same thing. All right, you are, my friend. Everyone has exactly the same thing. And that's precisely nothing. Hello, Jeff. Oh, how do you, Mr. Stephen? Who is this man? One of the landed plutocrats. I'll bet my last dollar on it. Have you got a dollar? If you have, I venture it came from foreign sources. There he is, fellow citizens. There, right before your eyes, stands one of the very people I've been talkin' about. Rich, hard, mean, tightfisted. I'll tell you what I'll do. You say I'm hard and tightfisted. You say half of what I raise on my land belongs to you. Well, all you've got to do is to come out to my farm tomorrow morning and we'll start to dig my potato crop. We'll start together and work side by side. And if you dig half the potatoes I dig tomorrow, I'll give you half of my crop. I tell you, my fellow citizens, when the new order comes into being... If you dig a third as many potatoes, I'll still give you half my crop. I've been heckled by plutocrats the length and breadth of this land. If you dig a fourth as many potatoes, I'll still give you half my crop. This is the country of tyranny. This is a land of riches for the few and starvation for the many. My country is on the... Sweet land of the... Stand aside. Out of my way. You let me alone. I'll shake the shoes off your feet. Throw a rare old spike at me, will you? Help. Stop it. Now, stand on your feet and face me like a man. That spike didn't miss you two inches, Mr. Stevens. It busted the glass and the hot glass. Now, this is the land of the oppressed, is it? So liberty and freedom and the good things of life are kept away from the people by people like me, are they? We'll get you, Mr. Just don't you worry. We'll get you. You people are all friends and neighbors of mine. You've known me all my life. I've known you, good folks, honest citizens, friendly. I help you, you help me. My wife has sat with your wives many and many a time and invited a woman's hand to hang on to. Your children and my children have eaten the same food, worked in the same fields, learned out of the same history book and been licked for the same mischief. Why are you listening to this fellow? What have you got in common with this diseased mind? Now you look at him. Shut up. Look at him. Look at his hands. Puffy, white. He's never done an honest day's work in his life. Listen to the peace, Noah. Give him 60 days and send him up to the county road gang. They'll put blisters on his hands. I am not answering my questions. All of you ought to be in church. Why are you listening to this man with the shifty eyes, the crooked tongue? I'll tell you why you're fascinated. You stand around listening to his hunchbacked ideas, his twisted evil words in the same way you'd go to a sideshow and look at a two-headed calf or a bearded lady. Believe me, it's no laughing matter. This man is a sideshow freak. I know we're not through with you yet. Noah, that's enough. That's your wife, Mr. Stevens. You hear him, Noah. Don't carry things too far. One more lesson, mother. We'll still make church in time for the collection plate. Now then, my man, get back up on your soapbox and sing. I'll be hanged if I will. You will if I have to shake the teeth out of your head. Stop, stop. You're choking me. Stand up there and sing, America. I can't even swallow it. My country is of thee. Although I don't know why it should be, you don't deserve her. Come on, sing. I can't. Want some more, huh? My country is of... Louder! Sweet land of... Liberty! Liberty, Liberty, Liberty! Sweet land of liberty. And don't you ever forget it, my friend. Everybody sing. My country is of thee. Sweet land of... Not for church. Not too late. Go red and perspire. Go down your vest. I'll cool off. Here, look at your tie. Around under your ear. Now, mother, don't fuss. That evil man threatened you. He said they'd come back and do you an injury. Take my arm. We're going down the aisle to our pew. He threatened you, Noah. A feisty lapdog snapping at destiny. Take my arm, mother. Yes, Noah. Thank you, John Charles Thomas, for your wonderful portrayal of a great character, Noah Stevens. You know, as I listened to the story of the man with a plow, I thought of something. This country was built by men like Noah Stevens, men of integrity and principle who believed in a code and were not afraid to live by it. Men who believed in God and were not ashamed to say so. Strong, uncompromising men who nevertheless could be gentle and understanding and charitable. There aren't many Noah Stevens around anymore, and I think we're worse off for it. But there are men who still succeed in being good citizens, good neighbors, good husbands, and good fathers. And in every one of them, there's something of Noah Stevens. They understand, for instance, that it's a privilege to bring children into the world and that raising them rightly is a sacred trust. They realize that children must learn about God and about His laws and about love for His fellow men. They know that being a good father or a good mother is a big job, and only the strong can do it well. Only those who believe in God and pray to Him daily for the help they need. That's why Family Theater extends an invitation to you each week and with a guarantee. The invitation? Begin the practice of prayer, family prayer, in your home today. The guarantee, the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. Tonight's Family Theater has brought to you John Charles Thomas in The Man with the Plough with Esther Williams as your hostess. Tonight's play was written and directed for Family Theater by Carlton Morse with music by Harry Zimmerman and was supervised by Jaime Delvair. Heard in our supporting cast were Jeanette Nolan, Lorette Philbrand, Peggy Weber, Billy Eidelsen, Johnny McGovern, Russell Thorsen, and Earl Lee. Next week, our Family Theater star will be Jean Cagney and your host will be Lloyd Nolan. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program and by the mutual network which has responded to this need. This is Jean Baker inviting you to join us next week at the same time when Jean Cagney and Lloyd Nolan will star on Family Theater. 8.30 every Thursday. This is the network for the Memorial Day Indianapolis Race, the Mutual Broadcasting System.