 Ladies and gentlemen, the railroad hour. And here comes our star-studded show train. Tonight, the Association of American Railroads presents a dramatic setting for the immortal Rimsky-Korsakov music of Scheherazade, starring Gordon MacRae and his guest, charming Dorothy Warren-Scholl. Our choir is under the direction of Norman Luboff, and our music is prepared and conducted by Carmen Dragon. Tonight, another charming musical play is brought to you transcribed by the American Railroads, the same railroads that bring you most of the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the fuel you burn, and all the other things you use in your daily life. And now, here is our star, Gordon MacRae. Thank you, Mother Miller, and good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, you will hear the glorious music of Rimsky-Korsakov, made into a light opera by Lawrence and Lee. Our story, as old and as deathless as gray cliffs of the Hindu Kush. A story of danger and of love, in which I shall be Caliph of Samarkand, the most exalted and imperial monarch of the plains of Central Asia, the Sultan Sharia, and Dorothy Warren-Scholl will be Scheherazade. And it came to pass in the 13th year of his reign that the most excellent Sharia, Prince of Samarkand, did proclaim throughout his dominions, yea, even unto the very borders thereof, a festival of 40 days and 40 nights. I command everyone to please stand to sing everywhere in all Samarkand. Here's the command of the king, the command of the king, the command of the king, it's the kingly command. Let us sing for the king, we will sing for the king, we will sing for the king, it's the kingly command. Sharia is a prince of treasure. For me such a symphony, for the ear he has the feet held in sweet memory. Continue, you reverie, my friends, enjoy yourselves. I merely called for my grand vizier, Abu Hassan. I am here, almighty Sharia, prince of the sun and light of the moon, ineffable lord of all the dominions. Yes, I know. Tell me, does the entertainment go well? Throughout your entire land your people are celebrating. Joy is in every heart. Only one thing troubles them, Sharia. Oh? They do not know exactly what they are celebrating, and we would inquire... Silence! Is it not enough that the Sultan of Samarkand commands it? Through your majesty. If I order a man's head chopped off, does anyone ask why? Never, your majesty. And if I order my subjects to be happy, who dares to question my imperial command? No one, oh perfect one. Then I say, let happiness prevail. We are happy, Sharia. See how happy I am. Nay, Hassan. I know that you are miserable, because there is no woman in your house. I have two lovely daughters, Dunyazad and Jaharazad. But no wife. Alas for me, my bride has long been the guest of Allah in paradise. You ask why we celebrate, Hassan. This festival honors my wife, my queen, Zobideh. Tell me, Hassan, have you ever seen her equal? The olive perfection of her skin? Her eyes like polished opals in her form, like the undulating sands of Kokonor. Your majesty is indeed favored among men, for your wife, Zobideh, is a queen among queens. My poor Hassan, how empty your life must be. We must find you a wife. I have searched the market, please. Such creatures as my Zobideh do not dwell among the carts and cabbages in the heat of the noonday sun. These frail creatures, Abu, are night-blooming flowers, and their fragrance must be sought by starlight in the untrodden ways. In the hush of the night there is love. There is love in the silent silver, for the night is the road of my love. Is her voice murmuring at you? I find her my love. Must I spend endless ages wondering alone that I can flee from fear's blossom? Where is she? Who, your majesty? Queen Zobideh. Where is she? I have not seen her. Bring her to the palace at once. Zobideh! Zobideh! Zobideh! Where is Queen Zobideh? She's fled your majesty. Fled? With your majesty's cousin Shazanan. Fled with my cousin? Fled for my court? Fled your majesty? He lies! Terrorists! Oh no, Sire, mercy! This is through her son. The queen is gone? Alas, it is true, O perfect one. For months Zobideh has been plotting against you. I was not told. Why was I not told? Who would dare to speak out against the king's favorite? Call out the guard! Pursue them! They shall not escape! What is that? That music! That is the band of musicians which your majesty has ordered to play for this night and to tell you. Let the music cease! Let the instruments be smashed and the players thrown into the dungeon! The celebration? It's over! And I swear, as I am sultan of Samarkand, what has happened this night shall not occur again. Never shall a wife be faithless to Sharia! Your majesty foreswares the company of women? Nay, by the beard of the prophet I shall wed every day if I choose. But on the wedding night, at the sounding of the twelfth stroke of midnight, each bride shall die. No! This is the oath of Sharia. May Allah be my witness. No queen of Samarkand shall live past the hour of midnight. Sharia is the prince of sadness. Hasan, the yeso perfect one. Go fetch me a wife. A wife, your majesty? A wife. In the courtyard. Is someone singing? You are pale, Abu. Can it be a relative perhaps? It is difficult to say. A daughter, Eva. I fear it is my sheherizade. You fear, Hasan? Only because she might offend your majesty with her ugly face. A few moments ago you called her lovely. Oh, a joke, oh perfect one. Sheherizade has the ears of an owl, the face of a bat, the complexion of a decrepit crow. She has the voice of a nightingale. Her only grace. Go bring me this crow of yours, Abu Hasan. The chance we shall transform her into a bird of paradise. In a moment we shall return with act two of a thousand and one night. Here is the second act of our railroad hour version of a thousand and one night. Starring Gordon MacGray as the Sultan Shariah. And Dorothy Warren Scholl as the fabulous Sheherizade. The burden of my years falls upon my white hairs like the rocks of an avalanche. Why are you sad, my father? Have you heard of the terrible oath of our Sultan Shariah? Oh, all Samarkand knows. And you know what must happen to his wives? Precisely at the hour of midnight. I know. Allah, why have you blessed me with a beautiful daughter? Stick out your tongue. Like this? Father, father, try to touch the end of your nose. Can you cross your eyes? Now, now, now, Scowl. Oh, it is no use. Nothing succeeds in making you ugly, Sheherizade. Oh, I would become an old woman overnight. If it would make my father happy. Allah, Sheherizade, I fear you will never become an old woman at all. The king wants to marry you. And when the marriage feast is over, when the sun has gone into the caverns underneath the earth, I will never see the light of my life again. Do not despair, my father. Shariah has taken an oath by the prophet against all womankind. No bride shall live to see the dawn after her wedding day. And I swear that I shall live to see the glory of another sunrise. Which oath is stronger, the king's or mine? Allah shall decide. The king is pleased with this bride. Is he? We know already the pleasantness of her voice. Does the court wish to hear a song from the new queen? Yes, sir. Sing, my love. I do not wish to sing. The king commands you to sing. And the queen refuses to sing. You know my oath. You know how long you shall remain queen. I advise you to sing while there is still breath within you. Will a song spin out the hours of my breathing, Shariah? You dare to call me Shariah? That is your name, and I am your wife. I prefer to be called a perfect one. No, you are not perfect. You have spilled salad oil all over your tunic, and your turban is on crooked. No one dares speak thus to the king. You shall die. I shall die anyway. Enough! Clear the court! All of you, take your leave from the banquet hall. The marriage's feast is ended. I beseech you, Your Majesty. Who is this child? It is my sister, Dajazad. Can you deny her the privilege of bidding me a last farewell? Oh, perfect one. Let it be brief. Shiharazad, my sister, I cannot sleep again until you tell me the ending of the story. Not now, little Danyazad. But I must know how the story ends. Story? Story what story? Did you not know, Almighty King, that my sister is gifted above all of Allah's creatures in the skill of telling tales, marvelous mystical tales which are almost beyond the power of believing? Oh, I must hear such a tale. Is there time? Well, His Majesty has pressing business at the hour of midnight. That business will be attended to never fear. But until the stroke of twelve, you will entertain me with one of your marvelous adventures. As you command, oh perfect one. Long known as Baghdad. Baghdad? Sinbad. Sinbad. Ancient Sinbad, tiring of his life of luxury and idleness in the city, did fit out a vessel a hundred cubits long and one hundred and fifty cubits high. And Sinbad set his course for the farthest reaches of the ocean of the Indies where a great storm seized upon his sails and smote his ship upon a rock. And Sinbad deemed that his days had ceased to multiply themselves. Until a mighty eagle swept down out of the cloud, grasped Sinbad's collar in his claws and soared with him across the angry waves. An eagle? Verily did the eagle snatch Sinbad from the jaws of the waves. Else would my story be swiftly ended. Town by town found Sinbad a bottle of glass which shone with colors which even the rainbow dreams not of. And caulked up within the bottle was a genie. A genie? A genie. Was it a good genie or a wicked genie? Ah, you must judge that for yourself, my husband. The face of the genie grew black as a thunder cloud and he leaped in one stride to the peak of a mountaintop and, seizing a thunderbolt in each hand, he readied himself to fling the dagger of lightning at poor Sinbad who dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. What then? What happened then? Sinbad took the bottle of many hues in which he had found the genie imprisoned and he himself crawled inside the glass drawing the caulk in after him. Genius. And then? Sinbad opened his mouth to pronounce the magic words which the genie dare not utter, but the sound of their syllables had escaped him. No. He could not remember the magic words. Well, go on, continue. What happened then? This is the seventh and last voyage of Sinbad the sailor. Stay. What do I see in the east? It is the glow of sunrise, O perfect one. A lot preserved me. I have broken my vow. Nay, my husband. I swore you should die at midnight but I heard not the striking of the hour. Your tale of Sinbad has bewitched me. Allah has cast this spell upon you, Sharia, to preserve you from your own wickedness and it is a spell of love. Is it love truly? Or have you made Sharia the captive of your tongue? I am the captive, O Sultan, for I thought to build a bridge of words between us to span the sunset to sunrise. But Allah has built instead a bridge between our hearts. It has been a magical night. But only one night. I decree there shall be a thousand more, a thousand and one nights of such fabulous tales. If you seek for it, the darkness has more to give you, Sharia. Our deepest thanks to lovely Dorothy Warrantial, J. Novello, Mary Lee Robb and to our entire company. Music for a Thousand and One Nights was by Rimsky-Korsakov, lyrics in libretto by Lawrence and Lee. The railroad hour is brought to you each week at the same time by the American Railroads. Marvin? Everyone who has had business experience knows how important it is to keep a careful check on income and expenses. But consider the complexities of record keeping on just one railroad operating in many communities and employing thousands of men. Yes, railroad record keeping is a big and important job. But the accuracy and care with which reports are made under the prescribed procedures of the Interstate Commerce Commission and subject to its supervision and scrutiny, ensure the availability of accurate impartial railroad information, a vital tool in the railroad's continuous efforts to produce better and better transportation service. Friends, we have an exciting schedule of musical premieres planned for the weeks to come on the railroad hour. Next Monday night, you will hear Guy de Mopassant's sparkling story of the necklace given a new musical setting with the melodies of César Franck. And on July 21st, a new musical play which is rich with the Waltz beat of Vienna, Love Song. Dorothy Warronshull joins Gordon MacRae each Monday night at this time when the railroad hour brings you music you love combined with stories you will remember. Unfortunately, we were unable to present Lucille Norman in Starlight as originally scheduled for tonight. Miss Norman will appear on the railroad hour at a later date. All aboard! Well, it looks as though we're ready to pull out. And so until next week, this is Gordon MacRae saying goodbye. The railroad hour was transcribed in Hollywood. Gordon MacRae can be seen starring in Warner Brothers about face. Our choir is under the direction of Norman Luboff and our music is prepared and conducted by Carmen Dragon. This is Marvin Miller saying goodbye until next week for the American Railroads. Now stay tuned for your Monday night of music on NBC. Make this station your convention headquarters. Attend the Republican Convention on NBC.