All language subtitles for A.Letter.To.Three.Wives.1949.720

To begin With,

all the incidents and
characters in this story

might be fictitious

and any resemblance to you or me

might be purely coincidental.

The name of the town isn't important.

It's the one that's just
28 minutes from the big city...

Twenty-three if you catch
the Morning Express.

It's on a river, and it's got houses
and stores and churches

and a Main Street.

Nothing fancy like Broadway or Market.

Just plain Main.

Drugs, dry goods, shoes,

those horrible little chain stores
that breed like rabbits.

Also a street for the upper,
the exclusive of the town,

where the country-club set live
when they're not at the country club.

This is the first Saturday in May

and tonight the first dinner dance
of the country-club season.

Well, anyway, this house belongs to
Brad and Deborah Bishop,

two of my dearest friends.

Brad bought this house
before he went to war.

It was Brad who gave me
my first black eye and...

And my first kiss.

Well, when he came home from the war,
he came home with a wife, Deborah.

Thomasino said to tell you he found
room for your briefcase in the bag.

Good for Thomasino.

Why'd you have him pack a bag?

Because I know these
Saturday conferences.

A bit like Saturday poker games,
don't plan on doing anything Sunday.

It's strange, your not letting me know
when you plan to be away overnight.

This is just in case, darling.
There's no telling how late it'll be.

And I like my own pajamas between me
and the sheets in a Turkish bath.

You'll phone this afternoon,
though, either way, won't you?

And leave word, even if I'm not here?

Just where might you be
when I call if not here?

First Saturday in May, remember?
The Settlement House Picnic.

That's right. The Women's Club thing.
Like it?

Anything to do with kids.
You know that.

What are you wearing tonight?

I've got the one
you liked so much in Vogue.

- But if you're staying in town...
-What color?

Black, like you said.
Brad, I don't want to go without you.

Darling, it's the first
dinner dance of the season.

- If I only knew you were gonna be there.
-I will be if I can,

and if I can't, why should
that throw you into a panic?

What are you afraid of,
anyway, Deborah?

- Good morning, Thomasino.
-Morning, Mr. Bishop.

I'm not in a panic.

Well, then?

It's just that suddenly the thought of going
to that dance tonight without you...

- Brad?
-Hmm?

Addie Ross, she used to be
sort of your ideal, wasn't she?

Now how did Addie
get into this conversation?

I never knew you read Vogue.

I never thought men bothered
much about it.

What's Vogue got to do with it?

I told you I picked it up on the train
coming home one night.

- Some woman had left it behind.
-Some woman.

Yes, some woman.

I thumbed through it and saw a dress
I thought would look smart on you.

What's wrong with that?

Nothing, I guess. Nothing at all.

- I should hope not.
-Well, I've gotta pick up Rita.

- You'll phone about tonight, won't you?
-I told you I would.

It just so happens that
the dress I bought,

that you picked out of Vogue that some
woman happened to leave on the train,

is exactly the dress that Addie Ross
wore to the concert two weeks ago!

Hot toast, Mr. Bishop.

She won't stay
mad at him long. She's too much in love.

Pretty soon,
she'll be full of self-reproach.

Women are so silly.

Now, this is that street where people
on the way up and on the way down

live alongside each other for awhile.

Rita and George Phipps
are on their way up,

that is, if Rita has her way.

And that's the only way
she'll have any part of, thank you.

There she is now.
Ready, waiting. That's Rita.

Hi. You're late.
I won't be a minute.

Just one last look at the twins
and I've gotta give Sadie her check.

On behalf of the underprivileged
children of this town,

I'd like to thank you
over-privileged ladies

for sharing your
excess privileges with us.

There's something odd-looking
about you today, George.

Just that usual two-headed
schoolteacher look.

You're all dressed up. Saturday,
no school, and you're all dressed up.

Just my little old blue serge.

First Saturday of trout season. Brad says
ever since you were big enough lift a fish...

Shh. Listen closely.

Can you hear the grateful murmur
of the trout

as they whisper in the
brooks and streams?

This is what they whisper,
"Phipps will not fish today."

Mm. You're cute. But why?

Because I've got something better to do.

Have a nice day.

Debby, darling, we'll have to stop station.
I've just got to get my copy off on the 8:42.

Do you mind?

What's George being so mysterious about?

I wouldn't know.
It seems we're not talking.

- Oh, I'm sorry.
-Oh, it's just one of those things.

It'll be all right.
Why? Was he acting strangely?

Mm. Not exactly. Well, it's only he's not
going fishing and being all dressed up.

All dressed up?

Why, so he is. His blue suit.

On Saturday of all things.
And no fishing. Hmm.

The radio hasn't been fixed yet.

Oh. And they've just gone on the air.

Oh, well. Save myself listening
to the murder of my little brainchild.

Rita, why on earth do you do it?
Five of those radio programs every week.

Up until dawn almost every night.

Because each week
I receive in return 100 pieces

of what Addie Ross calls "the most
restful shade of green in the world."

Unquote. Addie again.

Why is it that sooner or later,
no matter what we talk about,

we wind up talking about Addie Ross?

Maybe it's because
if you girls didn't talk about me,

you just wouldn't talk at all.

That's right. I'm Addie.

I'm the one they just
can't help talking about.

My very dearest friends too.

You know, I wonder if she knows
how much we do talk about her.

And what we say
and how we feel about her.

I know.
Believe me, I do.

And it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter nearly as much
as what all of you don't know, yet.

- Morning, Mrs. Hollingsway.
-Haven't the others gotten here yet?

No. You're the very
first, the early bird.

I've taken it upon myself
to get the children aboard.

Oh. Good idea, Miss Hawkins.

So that when the other ladies arrive,
we'll be all ready to go.

Fine. If they'll only get here.

Oh, I'm sorry we're late.
Rita had to go by the station.

Oh, sure.
See anyone there you know?

Just a husband of mine running like mad.
Why?

Nobody else?

Where's Addie? Weren't you
supposed to pick her up?

Nothing's happened to her, I hope.

Addie Ross left town this morning.

Left town?

Well, what do you mean, "left town"?

She certainly could've told someone,
at least phoned.

She's left for good.

Then it must've been something sudden,
some emergency.

What makes you so sure it's for good?
How do you know?

Well, the doorman told me
she subleased her apartment last week

and yesterday she sold her car.

So much for your sudden emergency.

If that isn't just like her.

Why do you suppose she had
to keep it such a big secret?

Who knows why Addie does
or doesn't do anything?

I've got a letter for the Mesdames
Bishop, Hollingsway and Phipps.

From the dear departed, I'll bet.

Addie's so tactful.
She even puts us in alphabetical order.

- Open it up.
-No, let's wait.

- For what?
-Till we get back. Knowing Addie...

I mean, why let her spoil our day?

Not my day. Addie Ross never
saw the day she could spoil my day.

Did I put enough days into that?

Dearest Debby,
Lora Mae and Rita.

As you know by now, you'll have to
carry on without me from here.

It isn't easy to
leave a town like our town,

to tear myself away from
you three dear, dear friends

who have meant so much to me.

And so I consider myself extremely lucky

to be able to take with me
a sort of memento.

Something to remind me always
of the town that was my home,

and of my three very dearest friends

whom I want never to forget.

And I won't.

You see, girls, I've run off with one
of your husbands. Addie.

If that's her idea of a joke,
it's in extremely poor taste.

If I ever catch up with
that character, I'll...

Ladies, may I suggest...
The captain seems to think...

Well, he's been rude about it.

Well, looks like Addie has crowned
one of us Queen of the May.

I think it's laughable.

- Okay. Laugh.
-Ha.

Deborah didn't happen to mention
why Brad had to go to the city, did she?

He hasn't missed a Saturday
on that golf course

since they got the snow off the greens.

All right, kids.
Get 'em while they're red hot.

It's gonna be a real restful day.

Nothing to think about except
the picnic and the weenie roast,

and coming home.

Oh, that. Kathleen's going
to read us a fairy story.

Fairy story? My favorite kind.
I grew up on them.

Only I wrote my own.

May I start now, Mrs. Bishop?

If you're ready, Kathleen. Of course.

-"Once..."
-Once.

"Once upon a time,
there lived a very poor girl

"who was very beautiful.

"She was so beautiful..."

Do you
remember your first night in town?

You and Brad, fresh out of the navy.

That was a first Saturday in May too.

- Is it Brad?
- Is it Brad?

- Is it Brad?
- Is it Brad?

- Is it Brad?
- Is it Brad?

Ohhh.

Here now, what's this?
Conduct unbecoming and officer and a lady.

I'm such an unholy mess!

- How?
-This!

- A little too kinky maybe?
-She must've set it with cement.

Mm. Here try this. It'll take
the kink out of a watch spring.

I'm no raving beauty, heaven knows,

but I did so wanna look
my miserable best tonight.

The very first time we've gone out
together all dressed up like civilians.

And you would be
the one man in the world

that looks even better out
of uniform than in.

Got the jumps, kid?

It's been quite a day, that's all.
Quite a change.

Out of the navy, out of uniform.
New home, new town, new friends.

Oh, I told that blasted girl
I wanted to comb it out soft!

It's making me look even more
like a farmhand than I feel.

- Easy does it.
-Meeting your friends for the first time.

You wouldn't want them
to see me like this.

I should hope not.
You be sure to put on a dress.

- Hey! My tie.
-You can tie it again.

There they are.

Brad, about my dress,
you might not like it.

If you're in it, I'll love it.

It's my only one and years old. Remember
there wasn't time today to get a new one,

and even years ago,
it wasn't exactly the last word.

That was the last word. Hurry up.

Which ones are they?
I wanna have it right.

Rita and George Phipps.
We all grew up together.

He teaches at the high school,
they have twins,

and she just got a job
writing for the radio.

Did you like her very much,
when you grew up together, I mean.

Rita and George were engaged
at the age of five by swapping beetles.

- She was never my type.
-What is your type?

Fat, squat, little brunettes
with mustaches.

Get going, and take another whack
at that hair.

The original will be down
in person directly.

- Brad! Hi, darling.
-Hello, Rita.

- George.
-Hello, Brad. You look fine.

- I feel fine.
-Good to see you.

What's this I hear about twins?
You look like a fugitive from a junior prom.

Oh, not next to that, I don't.

- Brad, she's adorable.
-My personal share of navy surplus.

She certainly doesn't look
as if she grew up on a farm.

Darling, I'm sure she took
the hay out of her mouth

while she was being photographed.

--Don't be funny, dear.

What I meant was that from Brad's letter,
I imagined all sorts of...

Well, anyway, just where on Fifth Avenue
was this farm she came from?

It's like music to hear
you two pick at each other.

Oh, we've declared
an armistice for tonight

out of respect for your battle fatigue.

Fine. Well, here it is again.
The first Saturday night in May.

And here we are.
You two, Porter and Lora Mae.

We'll all be together again,
just the way it used to be.

Well, not exactly as it used to be.

It seems there's been a change
in one of the characters.

Yeah. Not exactly the same old six.

Tell me, how is Addie?

Rita and George, Deborah.
Debby, Rita and George Phipps.

They were with me the day
I swallowed my first worm

and I hope will be there
when I swallow my last.

That's the most disgusting
introduction I ever heard.

- Hello, Deborah. Welcome.
-Thank you.

- How do you do, Deborah?
-How do you do?

Well, the occasion calls for a drink,
a quick one, because we're late.

- We've been admiring your photograph.
-Yes.

It's a very flattering one.
Maybe it's the uniform.

For some reason or other, I always seem
to be wearing a full beard in photographs.

- You know, even in snapshots as a child, I...
-Give me a hand, George.

Excuse me.

I don't think it's
particularly flattering.

Nice of you to say so, but it is.

Well, here's to Deb. And here's to us
and many happy returns of this day.

- I'll drink to that.
-Amen.

Now, if I can remember
my way to the club...

Oh, before we go, I have to call the
house and see if the sitter's showed up.

- It's Sadie's night out.
-Well, why not call from upstairs?

I have to get my bag anyway-

Good idea.

Now, don't make a tribal ceremony
out of it, girls. We're late now.

George and I will get the car
and wait outside.

- Mm-hmm.
-Remember, we'll be waiting outside.

- Uh-huh.
-Ready, George?

Mm? Oh.

They finally put a traffic light
at that dip on Orchard Avenue.

Yeah?

The Mayor cracked
his upper plate there last Christmas.

All the doors and windows are locked.
Don't worry about them.

What?

Certainly not. They're old enough
to do that by themselves.

We'll be at the country club.
Fine. Good night.

Well...

- Something wrong?
-No.

The bugle sounds.

I think I've got a sick headache
and can't go.

Then there is something wrong.

Me. I'm wrong.

What do you mean? How?

Every which way.
For Brad. For his friends.

You, your husband,
the others I haven't met yet.

The country club. The town.

I'm scared. I'm so scared, I'm sick.

Isn't there a nice baseball game
or something

you children can listen to on the radio?

- What's going on up there?
-I'm...

I'm having a little slip trouble.

- Oh. Hurry it up!
-Uh-huh.

Looks like somebody
had a lot of martinis.

I did.

What are you so scared of?

It's worst than my first night
in the WAVES.

And I'd never been away from home
before up until then.

But we were all in the same spot.

Everything was happening
to all of us for the first time.

And here you're
the only new girl, is that it?

Look. You're Brad's wife and our friend.

We want you here
and we've waited for you.

Now, why shouldn't that make you feel
safe and secure instead of being scared?

You can't be safe and secure
by just telling yourself to feel it.

Unless, maybe, you've got twins
and a job of your own

and grown up with your husband
and friends.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

Blame it on the martinis.

You know, counting ice water,

we could squeeze two more
out of this shaker.

Oh, no. No.

I've had more tonight than all the rest
of my life put together.

What was it like at home?

Or should I mind my own business?

Ever read in the picture magazines
about Farmer So-and-so

and his model farm, kitchen and life?

Well, it wasn't us
or anybody we knew.

Papa'd just get through
paying for the thresher

in time to start paying
on the new separator.

Till I was 13, a bus took me three miles
that way to grammar school.

Till I was 17, another bus took me
11 miles that way to high school.

And after that, I stayed home.

Till one day I took a bus
58 miles that way

to join the navy and see the world.

And meet Brad "Bripaship."

Fall in love and marry Brad "Bripaship."

Why not?

"Why not?" I said to myself.
I was quite a girl in the navy.

Head of my class. Hooray for me.

And pretty cute in that uniform.

That uniform, it's the
great "leveleller."

You couldn't tell me
from Vassar or Smith or Long Island.

That was the girl in the picture on
the piano. That isn't me. This is me.

What do you people talk about?

Years of growing up together. Thousands
of first names and private memories.

How do I fit in? Running a house,
making friends, filling the day.

Mrs. Bradbury Bishop.
"What's she like?"

"Fun to be with, smart as a whip,
pretty too.

"No wonder Brad Bishop married her,
the lucky stiff."

Rita, look at me.
Look at my mail-order dress

that's four years old
and awful even then.

What am I gonna do?

As if that really mattered.

You must think we're
an awful bunch of snobs.

Aren't you underestimating us
a little bit and Brad even more?

You know, it's just possible
he knew what he wanted and you had it.

And if you had it, you still got it.

I can't hear you. Sit up.

I said, "Thank you
for the kind words."

You're welcome. Now, about the dress.

- Haven't you anything else?
-Only uniforms.

Oh. Well, stand up.

- The flowers must go.
- Flowers must go.

Have you any scissors?

- Scissors?
-Oh.

I'll get the ones on the sleeves.
You tackle the big one in the middle.

- Careful now.
-Careful now.

Now look what I did!

Oh. You don't want
a bare midriff, do you?

Tsk. Well, back goes the flower.

Sit down. Have you
got any safety pins?

- Bottom drawer.
-Oh.

- More wine?
-Thank you. No.

Not much at dancing.
It makes me nervous.

- Does it?
-Whatever I do, I wanna do well.

Can't do a thing well,
leave it alone, I always say.

I think I will have
a little more wine, thank you.

Thank you very much.

Especially the rumba.

Gotta have Spanish blood or something,
like my wife.

Comes from an old Spanish family
named Finney.

In many South American countries

there are many very distinguished
families with Irish names.

Lora Mae looks good with Brad.
Looks like class. But it's him, not her.

If she was dancin' with a tramp,
she'd look like a tramp.

Got no class of her own.

I like class.

- You like class?
-Oh, very much.

You hit the jackpot.
Brad Bishop, class plus money.

Yes, sir. The jackpot and you hit it.

Count 'em on the fingers
of one hand in this town,

throw away some fingers even.

There's Brad and who else?

Yeah. There's Addie.

Addie? Addie Who?

Ross. Addie Ross.

Funny. People always figured
Brad and Addie would...

Brad and Addie what?

The samba can be danced properly
only on the side of a hill on ice.

Alibi. He was afraid
of getting wrinkles in his new suit.

Oh, my first new party dress in years,

thanks to my dear wife
and her millions of listeners,

including the armed forces overseas.

Shall we drink to them all, one by one?

How about some coffee?

George. I think your tuxedo
has got class, George.

We thank you.

Funny thing for a wife
to give her husband a tuxedo.

An even funnier thing
for a husband to give his wife.

Come on, Deborah.
While the coffee's nice and hot.

You're so funny, George.

I still don't think a woman
oughta buy clothes for a man.

-It's about time they start.
-Contrary to nature.

Oh, tell us about nature, Porter.

It's a man's world, yeah.

See something you want,
go after it and get it. That's nature.

It's why we're made strong
and women weak.

Strong conqueror provides for the weak.
That's what a man's for.

Teach our kids more of that,
there'll be more men.

And more war. Leave my kids out.

But those standards
don't apply to me, Porter,

because in this man's world,
I'm not a man.

- I'm a schoolteacher.
-The dance is over.

I knew we'd get around to that.

All right.
Schoolteachers oughta get paid more.

And what happens if they're not?

How does a schoolteacher
provide for the weak?

How does he pay the rent
with the plays and poems of Shakespeare?

Have you been shooting off
your big mouth again?

You just shut up till
it's time to dance again.

Let me tell you about nature
making men strong.

Einstein couldn't kick a football
across this dance floor

but he changed the
shape of the universe.

Now, take it easy, everybody.
This is getting a little out of hand.

You never know what he'll come up with

when he starts knocking
on that brandy bottle.

You shut up. You just shut up.

Isn't it fun, Deborah?
We're all pals. You know, buddies.

Just one big happy family.

- Why, Brad!
- Not me, but it's a good idea.

With the compliments of Mrs. Addie Ross.

Oh, Porter, you were saying
something about her and Brad.

Addie.

John, where is Mrs. Ross?

I don't believe she's arrived yet,
Mr. Bishop.

That's Addie for you. Always the
right thing at the right time.

- Thoughtful and generous.
-Generous to a fault.

To a fault. That's Addie.

Who is Mr. Ross?

Mr. Ross took a powder
about five years ago.

No such thing.
She gave him the heave-ho.

He went out for a paper one night
and never came back.

Porter says Addie Ross has got class.

And he knows class
like I know navigation.

You stick to your guns, Porter.
It shows a healthy instinct.

You may call it "class,"
but what Addie has is taste.

I can buy taste. Addie's got class.

Taste and discrimination.

Women usually get them out of magazines,

but they're part of
Addie's natural equipment.

Also fog lights,
white sidewalls and a heater.

Isn't it fun, Deborah,
when the boys all agree?

On Addie Ross
and George Washington, nobody else.

You girls put your noses
back into joint. I wanna propose a toast.

First half of the glass to Deborah.
Welcome home, darling.

- I'll drink to that.
-Amen!

And the rest to our absentee hostess,
Addie.

- Perfect.
-To Addie.

- Let's show 'em a flash of old Vienna.
-Darling, if you don't mind...

- Before the floor gets crowded.
-I don't think I should.

Let's get into this, George. Something
tells me this is going to be quite a waltz.

- Brad.
-Having fun?

- Brad, listen.
-Hold on, baby.

- Once more.
-No!

Deborah, what on earth
have you done to yourself?

Brad, let me handle this.

Pardon my fingers.

- Here. Drink this.
-What is it?

A new inner tube.

There you are. I think
that'll be all right.

- Thank you, Miss Jenkins.
-You're welcome.

Rita, will you take me home?

You've got the idea everybody out there
is watching that door

waiting for you to come out.

- Maybe not, but Brad is.
-Then it's because he's worried about you.

It's because he's ashamed!
In front of his friends,

ugly and pinned up, drunk and sick.

Oh, I wanted so much to be what
he wanted, to do what was right, like...

Like Addie Ross,
the right thing at the right time.

But I didn't, I couldn't. I'm humiliated.

What happened tonight could have
happened to anyone.

Don't you realize that?

Then take my word for it.

Come on.

Why, there's Brad.

Well.

I see Addie got here after all.

- IS it Brad?
- IS it Brad?

- Is it Brad?
- Is it Brad?

- Is it Brad?
- Is it Brad?

- Is it Brad?

Don't expect us back too soon.

We kids are going after everything
from sardines to wolves.

You'll have no trouble
finding wolves, honey.

- Almost lunchtime?
-I've called a recess.

When your own fingers begin to look
like frankfurters, it's time for a slight rest.

I suppose it's occurred to you

that Lora Mae's kept herself as busy
as a bird dog ever since we got here.

The very thought of a hike wears me out.

Maybe she just doesn't wanna sit still.

You sit still,
you can't help thinking, can you?

- Depends on what you think about.
-Well, for instance,

why your husband should suddenly decide
to go to the city on a Saturday morning.

You mean Brad?

No. I meant Porter.
He was at the station this morning.

He nearly knocked me down
when I was mailing my copy.

Funny Lora Mae doesn't
seem to know about it.

Why did you think I meant Brad?

Maybe because it might
keep you from wondering

why George dressed up
on Saturday with no school.

You're being a little too touchy about a
perfectly inoffensive remark, seems to me.

Oh, let's stop this sudden bickering.

We're beginning to behave
like some movie about a women's prison.

Not a bad comparison at that.

- Cigarette.
-No, thanks.

Why wouldn't George
go fishing?

Why wouldn't George
go fishing?

Why the blue suit?

Why the blue suit?

He's crazy!

Sadie, doesn't that noise
drive you insane?

- Restful, ain't it?

--There. That's better.

Well, the twins are fed
and ready to be put away.

Now if George would only show up.

- How many canapés are you making?
-Two dozen.

The way I figure it, six healthy people
oughta be able to eat 2-or 300.

They're just appetizers, Sadie.

And let's get a couple of things straight.

- First, when you announce dinner...
-I know.

- I'm not supposed to say, "Soup's on!"
-How did I tell you?

- I forgot.
-Dinner is served!

Dinner is served.

And you're not to say it as though
the food were poisoned.

As this fancy shmancy because two people
from the city are gonna eat here.

Mrs. Manleigh's a very important person.

She has charge of a great many radio
programs, including the one I write.

You know what I like about your programs.

Even when I'm running the vacuum,
I can understand it.

Thank you so much.

Now, the second thing.
Does the new uniform fit?

-It's kinda corny.
-Wear it.

Only one thing. The cap is out. Makes me
look like a lamb chop with pants on.

- Oh, Sadie.
-The cap is out.

Sadie, please. Just this once.

- Okay. Okay.

Hello?

Oh, hello, Mrs. Manleigh.

No. No, not at all.
I was just rereading the scripts for Monday.

--No! Off!

--What's that, Mrs. Manleigh?

Yes. It's a good connection.

About the script?

Oh. Well, I'll just have to
make the revisions tonight, that's all.

What? Oh, no, Mrs. Manleigh.
You've just got to come.

I've looked forward
so to your meeting George,

in line with that matter we discussed,
remember, Mrs. Manleigh?

Yes, that's right.

He'll be just perfect for us. You'll see.

No, don't worry about that.
I always work best late at night anyway.

Yes. 7:30. That'll be fine.

You can tell me about the changes
when you get here.

Fine. Good-bye, Mrs. Manleigh.

--There's George.

Changes, changes.
When am I supposed to sleep?

What's, uh, Mr. Phipps gonna be
so perfect for on the radio?

Nothing, and you keep quiet about it.

I will. Only he won't.

Good evening one and all.

- Hello, George.
-Well, how now? Why the look of doom?

Ohhh.

Did you forget to baste the ducks?

Look. I don't teach you about teachin'.
Don't you teach me about duck.

Oh, Sadie's been an angel. Looks like I'll be
up most of the night making revisions.

Mrs. Manleigh just called.

But you're giving a dinner party
for her tonight.

She suggested calling it off,
but I wouldn't hear of it.

Why can't Mrs. Manleigh,
just for once,

tell the sponsor to call off
his wife's revisions?

You don't tell a sponsor
things like that about his wife.

George, you just don't understand.

No, I suppose not. Well, it may not make
your bad news any better,

but I got good news.

Have you, darling? Oh, George,
10 of 7:00. We've gotta get dressed.

- Don't you wanna hear my good news?
-Of course I do.

- Did you get the liquor and cigarettes?
-Right here.

Oh, now, you check the cigarette boxes
while I put the liquor away.

Why does everything have to be full
when guests arrive?

Full cigarette boxes, candy dishes.
Fresh cakes of soap.

Aren't we supposed to eat,
smoke or wash when we're alone?

- Where's the scotch?
-I didn't buy any.

Why not?

Too expensive.
Bourbon's a better drink anyway.

But the Manleighs
are a cinch to want scotch.

People in show business,
you know what I mean.

Those kind always drink scotch.

Well, I know what you mean, but I wish
you wouldn't say it in radio English.

"That kind," not "those kind."

There are men who say "those kind"
who earn $100,000 a year.

There are men who say, "Stick 'em up,"
who earn more. I don't expect to do either.

Nor are you expected to pay for the scotch.

You're quite right.
Funny how it slips my mind,

that in certain respects,
I'm only the titular head of this house.

Oh. Don't be silly, darling.

I thought it very amusing to begin with.

Very, uh, modern and enlightened.

My tuxedo, for instance.

The same tuxedo that for some strange
reason you want me to wear tonight.

Well, what's so wrong about getting
dressed up once in a while?

Nothing at all, unless it's obviously
an attempt at pretense.

And just what is
so pretentious about tonight?

Tonight we'll sit down
to one of Sadie's duck dinners.

Present will be Porter and Lora Mae,
with whom we've had many such dinners

when you wore slacks
and I didn't bother to shave.

But this time, also present will be
two advertising moguls

who happen to employ you.

Their presence means
a new uniform for Sadie,

my children prisoners in their room,

and all the pomp and hysteria
usually reserved for coronations.

I call that pretense.

All right. So I'm out to impress the boss.

What do I get for that, 30 years?

Tonight's important to me.
I've planned and worked, shopped,

taken the twins off Sadie's hands,
written my program,

and I'll be up all night tonight
and it's worth it to me.

And as far as dressing's concerned,

you can come in a cowboy suit
for all I care.

Ohhh.

And why do the chairs have to look
as if nobody ever sat down in them?

Because they do! Oh.

Aw, come on, Reet. Let's cut it out.

--Look,

you finish up down here and see
if you can't relax for a few minutes.

- Are you all ready except for your dress?
-And combing out my hair.

Good. I'll put the twins to bed

and call up the liquor store
to send over the scotch, all right?

George?
-Hmm?

Please no jokes about radio.

I'm afraid they don't have much
of a sense of humor about it.

Oh, neither have I.
The time for joking about it has passed.

Radio has become a very serious
problem now, like juvenile delinquency.

That's what I mean. Cracks like that.

Oh, that wasn't a crack. I meant it.

George! George!

Sadie, don't open the door.
It might be the guests.

It can't be. It's only 7:00.

If it is, they mustn't see you like that.

If they're that early,
they deserve what they get.

Wait a minute.

- Hiya, Sadie. For Mr. Phipps.
-Hi, Leo.

- Mr. Phipps?
-Yeah.

- Sure smells good.
-Wish I could say the same for you.

For Mr. Phipps. Looks like a present.

A present?

A present? Ohhh.

What's up? lwasn't sure I heard you call.

-It's for you.
-For me?

For George on his birthday.

"If music be the food of love,
play on. "Addie.

Well, I'll be...

The Brahms. The Concerto in B-flat.

Oh, it's a recording
made in Vienna before the war.

But how'd she find it?

- George.
-Hmm?

-It's your birthday today.
-I know.

- I just plumb forgot.
-Well, don't worry about it.

- I'm not much for birthdays.
-Yes, you are.

- You're very much for birthdays.
-Well, this time you had a lot on your mind.

- Even so...
-"Happy birthday, George."

Happy birthday, George.

What a memory that girl's got.
Almost a year since we talked about it.

I'm gonna play it for the twins right now.

- Sadie.
-What?

You didn't by any chance, make a layer
cake for dessert tonight instead, did you?

You know we got cherries jubilee.

You read it to me out of a book.

That's what I thought.

Sometimes I don't think we appreciate
the miracle of the phonograph.

The privilege of having men of genius
perform for us at our command.

- What kind of a set is that?
-Hmm?

Oh, it's no particular make,
Mrs. Manleigh.

One of my students
put that together for me.

If I were you, I'd stick to the established
trademarks, a Puratone or a Sonobelle.

Puratone, Sonobelle.

I thought that sounded all right.
Didn't you, Porter?

Mine plays two dozen records, different
sizes. Mix 'em up any way you like.

Radio gets China clear as a bell.
Also television.

Except there's no television to get.

- We're too far away.
-Only television set in town.

Like playing tennis without a ball.

What do you want me to do about it,
build you a broadcasting station?

You don't need a station.
Just yell a little louder.

Uh, Mrs. Manleigh, are you sure
I can't get you a drink?

- A cocktail maybe or scotch?
-Never touch it,

alcohol that is, in any form.

- Oh. Uh, Mr. Manleigh?
-He doesn't either.

Well, coming from show business,
you might say,

I always imagined "those kind"
took a nip now and then.

Wouldn't be keeping faith
with our clients,

the most respected trademarks
in the American home.

Well, I think I'll have one more.

Porter?

I've often wondered, Porter, why you
haven't considered radio advertising.

Mr. Hollingsway has a chain of seven
department stores all over the state.

I know all about it. 23% by volume
over last year. 138% over 1939.

Where'd you get those figures?

They're a matter of public record,
Mr. Hollingsway.

Yours is too big a light
to be hid under a bushel.

George, would you fix me
a small bromo seltzer?

- You're a potential giant, Mr. Hollingsway.
-Not too small.

- Doing all right.
-I said a potential giant.

Potential.

Something tells me I'm gonna
have a giant around the house.

Got this whole state sewed up tight.

- But there are 47 other states, Porter.
-Crackerjack point.

Now, you take the three states
adjoining this one.

If I can put you, Porter Hollingsway,

into millions of those homes
for one half hour each week...

He doesn't spend that much time
in his own home.

Excuse me.

I told you the screen was a crummy idea.

- Soup's on.
-Thank you, Sadie.

- Mrs. Manleigh.
-Lora Mae.

Sadie Dugan, what are you
supposed to be, Baby Snooks?

Hiya, Lora Mae.

Get a load of that cap.
I can't wait to tell Ma.

Lora Mae, would you sit there, please?

Come on. Sit down.

There's a couple of things
I could tell your ma about you too.

This quaint situation
belongs in a true-to-life drama.

- Are you two related?
-No, we just had the same governess.

You kill me.

Uh, it's just a small town. You know,
everybody gets to know everybody.

If you don't mind crossing the tracks.

Oh, by the way. Sadie's quite
a radio fan. Listens all the time.

Now, that's very interesting.
All the time, eh?

Keep it going night and day.

Tell me, uh, what are
your favorite programs?

During the day, anything.

- Anything?
-Anything that keeps my mind off my feet.

- I see. And at night?
-In bed, I listen to the police calls.

But you can't understand them.
They're in code.

I sleep like a baby.

How you gonna put me in her house
a half hour every week?

But she's not a housewife.

Still, they have a great influence
over housewives.

Sadie may not realize it,

but whether or not she thinks
she's listening, she's being penetrated.

Good thing she didn't hear you say that.

And after penetration comes saturation.

And when she's saturated,
she'll find herself saying,

"Madam, I suggest that you buy our
washing machine at Hollingsway's."

Not Sadie, and I've seen her
when she was saturated to the eyes.

You don't know what they're talking about.
Just shut up and eat.

Okay, Giant.

It's half past 8:00.
I can't miss Brenda. Excuse me, please.

- Well, where is she?
-Radio. Confessions of Brenda Brown.

- One of ours.
- Wait a minute!

- You better let me do that for...

I've gotta tell Sadie to hold the ducks.

Sorry to eat and run like this.

So sorry.

I won't say it doesn't matter,
because it does.

Euclid Street, Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.

She writes, "What a thrill it was
to hear my little girl say..."

Mother, it's such fun
to have you read to us,

now that you use Baby Breath.

So be sure you don't offend.
Be double-sure with Baby Breath.

--Oh, we missed most of the commercial.

Shucks. And that's the best part too.

Just thought I'd eat the soup while it's hot.

George, how'd that happen?

Baby Breath brings you
the Confessions of Brenda Brown.

Shh.

Who was the mysterious
Central American

with the gay smile
and the black pearl ring?

Promised a scoop by her gruff city editor,

Brenda Brown, girl reporter for the Star,

has accepted the senor's invitation
to dine and dance

at a swank penthouse rendezvous.

It was most kind of senorita

to dine and dance with me tonight.

It was kind of you to ask me,
Senor Montevideo.

Please, call me Armando.

If you like, Armando.

- Gracias.
- That's Spanish for "thank you."

Gracias.

Lord Bruce,
I'm proud and flattered.

What small-town American girl
would not be at a proposal of marriage

from a gentleman as distinguished as you.

But I must decline, with thanks.

You decline? I don't understand.

We have Lady Bruce to consider,
invalid though she is,

and though you've been married
in name only for many years,

she is your wife in sickness
as she was in health,

and must not be cast aside.

- I see.
-Besides, I am a registered nurse.

It is my chosen profession, my duty,

and much as my personal feelings
from time to time...

You and I, my dear Lord Bruce,
must remain just another case,

another case in the notebook
of Linda Gray, Registered Nurse.

Listen next week for another
chapter in this human document.

Linda Gray is brought to you by Protecto,
product of the Duro-Enamel Company.

Remember, one thin coat of Protecto
after bathing guarantees against...

This is
the Allied Broadcasting Company.

--Enough?

Might as well turn it off.
There's nothing but music from now on.

My, that was fun.
Two whole hours.

Linda ran over almost a minute.

- The third time in a month.
-Three minutes gone,

one full commercial, gone for good.

Well, some more coffee anybody?

George?
-Hmm?

- Oh, uh, some more coffee, anybody?
-I just asked everybody, dear.

- Well, time to go home.
-Already?

Seems as if you just got here.

- Come on, Giant. Back to the bean stalk.
-Get your coat. I'm ready.

Been such a lovely evening, my dear.
Pleasant company.

The duck was fine.

Of course, eating out here
off your laps, gypsy fashion...

- The time just flew by.
-Tempo fugit.

- Rig ht, Professor?
-Almost.

- And our little hostess has her work to do.
-Oh, it's not so much.

Perhaps we can drive out and have lunch
with you one day soon, Mr. Hollingsway.

Maybe at one of the other stores.

We'll make our appointment
well in advance and at your convenience.

You're gonna be a giant.
Relax and enjoy it.

I hope you listened
conscientiously, my dear.

Particularly to Linda Gray.
You can learn a great deal about writing.

- Yes, they are well-written, aren't they?
-Why, they're perfection.

Didn't you think so, Mr. Phipps?

Oh, I beg your pardon. I wasn't listening.

We'll see how much
of an expert you are.

Which of the programs
did you think was the best?

They all sounded pretty much alike to me.

Uh, I thought you were a student
of good writing.

Oh, he is.
He's given courses in the university.

- Then which was the best?
-I wish you wouldn't ask me that.

Why not?

Because it's a question
I don't want to answer.

Oh, go ahead, dear. I'm sure your opinion
is a very valuable one.

- Well, if you're sure you want me to.
-Not if you feel you shouldn't.

Stating it as kindly as I can, Mrs. Manleigh,

none of that bilge has the remotest
connection with good writing.

Do you realize that Linda Gray
has been written for eight years,

no summer layoff, by Myrtle Tippet?

Who?

You can't be much of an authority,
Mr. Phipps,

if you don't know Myrtle Tippet.

Linda Gray has made her an immortal,
and she's only 32.

Well, Keats, Shelley and Marlowe beat her
by a couple of years anyway.

They were immortal before they were 30.

- Classroom stuff.
-Radio writing is the literature of today.

- The literature of the masses!
-Then heaven help the masses.

Well, it just serves
a different purpose, that's all.

The purpose of radio writing,
as far as I can see,

is to prove to the masses
that a deodorant can bring happiness,

a mouthwash guarantee success
and a laxative attract romance.

- Well!
- Take it easy, George.

Let him alone.
He'll run longer than Linda Gray.

"Don't think," says the radio,
"and we'll pay you for it.

"Can't spell 'cat'? Too bad.

"But a yacht and a million dollars
to the gentleman

"for being in our audience tonight."

"Worry," says the radio.
"Will your best friends not tell you?

"Will you lose your teeth?
Will your cigarettes give you cancer?

"Will your body function after you're 35?

"If you don't use our product,
you lose your husband, your job and die!

"Use our product and we'll make you rich,
we'll make you famous!"

That's just about enough, George.

Don't let it upset you, my dear.
Don't you feel badly.

"Bad," not "badly"!
You feel badly this way!

I have more confidence than ever in your
understanding of domestic problems.

Look. I got my coat on
and I catch cold easy.

"Easily," not "easy."

We're leaving now, Mr. Hollingsway.

- Good night again, my dear.
-Good night.

Of course you understand
that under the circumstances,

your little project
is quite, quite impossible.

- Of course.
-Good night, Mr. Phipps.

Good night.

- Good night, Rita. So long, George.
-Good night.

- Good night, kids.
-Good night, Lora Mae.

What little project of yours turned out
to be quite, quite impossible?

I'll take care of tidying up.
You better start your revisions.

It's all right.

I'm sorry about this.

I know how much it means to you.

Well, it couldn't be helped, I guess.

Oh, George, it would have been so simple
to say something noncommittal.

Not for three hours it isn't.
I held back all night.

Anyway, she doesn't blame you for it.
Didn't she tell you not to feel badly?

I wasn't thinking of myself.

What can she do to me?
Report me as being un-American?

Radio's like a religion to those people.

When you attack it, you attack their faith.

Once they've seen you against it,
they're off of you for life.

- There's no making it up.
-Why should I want to make it up?

Why should I?

Oh, nothing.

You know, this is getting to be
like a good mystery story,

where you think you got
the murderer picked out

and it turns out to be somebody else.

For just a minute,
I had your little project tied up with Porter.

But now the clues seem to point to me.

In some weird, unimaginable way,

I was to prove irresistible
to Mrs. Manleigh tonight.

I was to impress her and win her favor.

Isn't that so?

But why? To what purpose?

Well, if you must know,
there are editors leaving,

and I thought you'd be perfect for the job.

$175 a week to start.

Come here.

Sit down for a minute.

Look, Reet, let's put aside my nausea
at the idea of working for the Manleighs.

Let's put aside my personal likes
and dislikes. They're not important.

I'm willing to admit
that to a majority of my fellow citizens,

I'm a slightly comic figure,
an educated man.

Nobody's asking you not to be.
Think of the good you could do.

- Maybe raise the standard.
-Of commercial radio?

What's the phrase, "Wait for your laugh"?

I'm a schoolteacher. That's even worse
than being an intellectual.

Schoolteachers are not only comic,

they're often cold and hungry
in this richest land on Earth.

And thousands are quitting every year
to take jobs that pay them a decent living.

- That is unhappily true.
-Then why not you?

Because I can't think of myself
doing anything else.

What would happen,
do ya think, if we all quit?

Who'll teach the kids?
Who'd open their minds and hearts

to the real glories of the human spirit
past and present.

Who'd help them along to the future?

Radio sponsors? Comic strips?

At that, I've been luckier than most.

Even without what you earn, I've managed
to keep our heads above water.

It's quite a strain over a period of time
with the water lapping at your chin.

That's where you've been a great help.

You've made it a lot easier for both of us.

I'll admit is has upset
my male ego from time to time.

And your overdeveloped
sense of taste and discrimination,

which is apparently equaled
only by that of Addie Ross.

Let's try to keep Addie out of this one.

I am fed up with taste and discrimination.

You're not making sense.

I'm fed up with your nobility
and wisdom and superiority

and your contempt for me
in everything I try to do.

You're talking nonsense.

Everything I say is nonsense.

It's all this work. You're overtired.
You do too much.

What do you suggest I stop doing,
this moronic radio trash

-with which I pay most of your bills?
-Now calm down.

And what do I go back to,
washing, scrubbing, ironing,

and a life of taste and discrimination?

I'm fed up with Addie Ross!

- What's it all about, really?
-"if music be the food of love, play on."

"Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
the appetite may sicken, and so die."

From Twelfth Night, by Mr. Shakespeare,
which Addie and I played in high school.

I thought it was a very clever note.

And there was more to it
than a childhood memory.

Yes, there was,
but we won't go into that.

We're going to get a few things
straightened out once and for all. Sit down.

- Yes, professor.
-Sit down!

Seven years ago I made the most perfect
marriage ever devised

by man, heaven or radio.

My wife was an independent,
understanding woman.

We thought the same thing
about everything, from baseball to Brahms.

In those seven years, I was never
contemptuous of you. I was proud.

But when that drooling pap
began to change you,

when your independence turned to fear,

when I watched you snivel and grovel
around those two walking commercials,

I didn't like it, and I don't like it.

I don't want to be married to Linda Gray,

Brenda Brown or even Myrtle Tippet.

I want my own wife back.

Why didn't George
go fishing?

Why the blue suit?

Lora Mae?

Lora Mae, are you ready?

Oh.

My, all that running, hiking and baseball,

your feet must be ready to drop off.

I've covered more ground in Porter's store
from the notion's counter,

-just back and forth to the water cooler.
-How's it feel, Lora Mae?

Porter spreading out on a national scale,
gonna be a big merchant prince.

How's it supposed to feel?

No more small towns for Porter.
He'll be after the big cities.

He'll be after, what is it
he always calls it, class?

Look, why don't I save you a lot of trouble
and tell you what you want to know,

and you can tell Debby and that'll
keep you busy until I'm dressed.

I don't know whether Porter ran off
with Addie, but get this, I don't care.

I've got everything I want.

For instance?

Some time we'll spend a week
at the old Finney mansion

down by the tracks and I'll go into detail.

Right now, I'd better get dressed.

You know what?
I think you're worried.

I think you're just as worried
as the rest of us.

I've got everything I want.

Maybe you haven't
got everything you wanted after all.

Maybe you haven't got
everything that you wanted after all.

- Your bet.
-How much you got in front of you?

About $11,000.

That's my bet.

- Okay, what do you got?
-Ace high.

- Your next?
-Jack.

Nine. You win. Beer?

Yeah, if you're all out of champagne.

Ma! Just because she's going out
with Mr. Porter Hollingsway,

does she have to stay in the bathroom
for almost an hour?

You oughtn't to run around like that.
You'll get consumption.

Lora Mae, let your sister
get in the bathroom!

After all, I've got a date,
too, a respectable date.

- That's your sister you're talking about.
-I don't care.

I think it's disgusting.
He's 35 if he's a day.

I wish I was that disgusting again.

- Your sister knows what she's doing.
-They all know what they're doing.

They're always going to wind up
being supervisors or buyers or something.

Well, Porter Hollingsway
knows what he's doing too.

Lora Mae, didn't you hear
what Ma said?

And how do you think I feel
having my friends talk about my sister?

Your sister's a decent girl,
like I hope you are.

And there's nothing wrong
in going out with the boss,

if it'll bring a couple of bucks
into the house.

Nothing wrong?

No, nothing wrong.

Then she'll wind up with a steak dinner
and that's all.

Are you looking for another smack?

Ma, will you please make her get out?

- Oh, all right. Lora Mae...
-Yes, Mother?

You don't own that bathroom, you know.
There's other people in this house.

But you're such a quiet little thing, dear,
one never knows you're about.

I still think it's disgusting.

How do I look?

If I was you,
I'd show more of what I got.

- Maybe wear something with beads.
-What I got don't need beads.

What's your new job gonna be,
something secret, like a spy?

Something you can't
talk about in the office?

All right, so I'm gonna disgrace
the fair name of Finney.

Wait till it snows and throw me
out in the street.

I'm beginning to think your sister's right.
And to think a daughter of mine...

How many payments are you
behind on that icebox?

Not for all the iceboxes.

They can come and take it away,

though heaven knows
it's one of the few joys I have in life.

They're not gonna take it away,
and I know what I'm doing.

Remember, you're my daughter
and a decent girl.

Come on, Ruby, lay off her.

- It's him.
-I guess so.

Have you got everything?
Where's your purse?

Right there.

He's out in front in a car a block long.

- Well, what are you waiting for?
-Relax.

--He just blew his horn again.

- It ain't Gabriel. Relax.
-My nerves can't take this.

Lora Mae, what are you waiting for?

That's what I was waiting for.

Sadie, would you be good enough
to answer the door?

Well, my union don't like me doin'
this kind of thing for free, but, okay.

Anybody wants me can come in
and get me. This ain't a drive-in.

Well, I never.

--Hello, Sadie.

Hi, Porter.

- Good evening, Mr. Hollingsway.
-Good evening.

I see you know Miss Dugan.

He just didn't know
my last name was Dugan.

But I don't believe you know
my mother, Mrs. Finney. Mother...

Pleased to meet you.

- How do you do?
-Won't you sit down?

Well, I... The table's reserved
for half past 7:00. It's after that now.

Yes, you are late, aren't you?
I won't be a minute. Just get my bag.

- Your bag is...
-it's a cold night out, ain't it?

Not bad.

- One of mine, right?
-Uh-huh.

- Giant-sized with a super-freeze box, right?
-Uh-huh.

How long you had it?

- How long they been on the market?
-Couple of years.

- That was one of the first.
-Uh-huh.

- I wonder what's keepin' her?
-Girls always got things to do, they tell me.

- Why, there it is. How silly of me. Ready?
-We're late.

Good night, Mother, dear. Don't wait up.

Thank you, Sadie, darling. Good night.

-"Thank you, Sadie, darling."
-"Good night, Mother, dear. Don't wait up."

If a daughter of mine ever really talked
like that, I'd cut her tongue out.

Here you are, Mr. Hollingsway.

My, what a pretty shade of green.
What's it called?

Créme de menthe. Tastes like peppermint.

- It isn't too strong, is it?
-Wouldn't hurt a baby.

Well, I'll just have to trust you.

Mmm. It's good.

Oh, my. When I think of all the
wonderful things that you know about,

-that I've never even heard of.
-Got a few years head start.

Now don't you go making yourself
out an old man, Mr. Hollingsway.

Let's make it Porter.

Why, the way I look at it, a man isn't
really grown up till, say, 35 at the least.

Yeah.

This is a very nice place. I've heard about it,
though, of course, I've never been.

I come here all the time.

With other young ladies you want to
talk to about new duties at the store?

Let's not talk business.

I thought that's what this dinner was for,
Mr. Hollingsway.

We'll get around to it.

You poor man. I suppose
you never get a chance to relax.

People always after you for things.

What do you do with yourself
after working hours, say, uh, nights?

I have my family
and my friends, of course.

- Boyfriends?
-isn't that getting a little personal?

Oh, a girl like you, I'll bet there's plenty.
Who's out in front?

I don't happen to be one of those girls

that talks about her private life,
Mr. Hollingsway.

And what I do in my private life

is my own personal business
and nobody else's.

- How about another drink?
-Oh, no, really. I...

Why, it's Porter Hollingsway. Don't get up.

- Hello, George. You here alone?
-With Rita, of course.

Funny, we called your house,
but you'd just left.

- Addie's with us.
-Addie?

It was a last-minute idea. We figured you'd
probably have a previous engagement.

- Whose idea, Addie's?
-As a matter of fact, now let me think...

- May I have a cigarette, please?
-Oh, here you are.

Oh, thank you. Thank you, Mr...

- Phipps. George Phipps.
-This is Miss Finney.

- How do you do?
-Hello, Miss Finney.

- Been here long?
-We just got here.

Didn't you see Rita and Addie go by?
They were a few steps ahead of me.

Just now?

Why, I'm sure they saw you,
but you probably weren't looking.

Not that I blame him. Say hello
on your way out, why don't you, hmm?

- Yeah.
-Love to.

You have such nice friends.

He's a schoolteacher.
He hasn't got a dime.

Oh.

You were saying something
about another drink.

Mm, it's gettin' stuffy in here.
I want some air.

Weren't you out of cigarettes back there?
Didn't you ask George for one?

- Did I?
-You're smart.

- Thanks.
-Plenty smart.

- We gonna talk about business now?
-Let's look at the view.

- Miss Lipke is leaving next week.
-Yeah.

And if Miss Goldberg moves up,
you'll need a new assistant supervisor.

- Like flies around honey.
-Hmm?

You and your boyfriends.

- I thought we settled that.
-I want to talk about it some more.

What makes you so interested
in my boyfriends?

- What do you think?
-Which is the ashtray?

- I've got very definite ideas.
-Like what?

There's never been anybody
in particular. Nobody special.

Plenty that wanted to, I'll bet.

What do you think?

That you've been waiting for that
one guy to come along.

- I got very definite ideas.
-What's he got to be like, this one guy?

Someone who wants to marry me
more than anything else in the world.

You sure got wrong ideas about things.

They may be wrong,
but they're definite.

Well, tomorrow's another
working day. Shall we go?

Yeah.

Well, home again.

I want to thank you for a lovely
evening, Mr. Hollingsway.

That's all right.

Oh, now, look what I've done.
My best nylons.

Too bad.

Oh, must have caught on a nail
or something at the restaurant.

I hope you don't mind my bringing it up,

but could you remember about Miss Lipke
leaving and Miss Goldberg moving up?

What about tomorrow night?

- If you'd like.
-I'd like.

Half past 7:00.

Thank you again, Mr. Hollingsway,
for the lovely nylons.

- It wasn't really necessary.
-Forget it.

Before we say good-bye,

I'd like to tell you that your friendship
has meant a great deal to me

and our evenings together,
they've been wonderful.

And I'm just sorry that...

Well, good-bye.

Good-bye.

Oh, Mr. Hollingsway!

Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
How stupid of me.

After all my graceful speeches,
I forgot my nylons.

- They're in the back.
-I know.

Good night again.

Good-bye, Porter.

- That's all.
-Yes, sir.

It's gonna be a white Christmas.

That song, they tell me it made a million
bucks for the fella who wrote it.

This is the most beautiful house
I've ever seen.

-It's just everything anybody'd want.
-You name it, I got it.

- You were married once, weren't you?
-See if it's too sweet.

Perfect. Is this her picture?

My wife? I wouldn't even have
her fingerprints in the house.

- Then who's this?
-Somebody I know.

I bet I can guess... Addie Ross.

- That's right.
-So that's what she looks like.

You can't tell from that really.
It's only a picture.

She's beautiful all right.

She sort of looks like a queen,
doesn't she?

Like a queen ought to look.

I imagine you must be very
good friends.

I helped her with some investments.
She gave me this last Christmas.

Almost a year ago.

Yeah. Just never bothered
to put it away, I guess.

- Porter?
-You know how I feel about you.

How?

I'm only human, you know.

- I'm not so sure you are.
-No?

- No.
-Thanks.

- You're smart.
-So you told me.

- I'm smart, too, and I've been around.
-I'll bet.

It's an old act, you're good at it,
but you don't fool me.

You're smart, all right,
smarter than anybody.

And I know all the answers.

Then answer this one,
why pick on me?

"I've been watching your work,
Miss Finney,

"and I think you're ready
for advancement.

"Let's have dinner
and talk it over."

There's a brand-new act for you.
It's got a beard a mile long.

I didn't ask you out. You asked me.
And why me? The woods are full of girls.

- Not like you.
-You can say it again, not like me.

- And they don't want what I want.
-All right, what do you want?

Not a $4.00-a-week raise.
I don't want a new car, a fur coat,

or a trip to Hawaii on a
solid-gold yacht.

You don't carry what I want in any
of your seven big stores, Mr. Hollingsway.

Name it.

I want to be in a sliver
frame on a piano.

My own piano in my own house.

- You mean you want to get married.
-Does that make me a freak?

I've been married once, you know that,
and once is enough for a man like me.

Maybe I'm just not the type.

Maybe you just haven't
found the right girl.

Living with somebody all the time.
I'm not easy to get along with.

I'm set in my ways, I want to do
what I want when I want.

Why, if it was just a question
of the right girl,

wouldn't any man in the world
want to marry you?

Not if he thought
he could marry Addie Ross.

Maybe I don't know all the answers,
but I know some of them.

-It's late. I'd better be getting home.
-Okay if I call you a cab?

Beats walking in the snow.

This is Porter Hollingsway. How long
before you can get a cab over to my house?

Okay, hustle it along. And, say,
put the charge on my account. Yeah.

It'll be just a minute.

Sounds like you keep the cabs
pretty busy with this kind of thing.

The reason I keep an account

is because I do a lot of business
with them, store business.

- Well, don't get mad.
-You just keep needling me.

I'd insist upon paying for that cab myself,
but I'm in no spot to be proud.

- From tomorrow on, I count the pennies.
-What's tomorrow?

- The day I start looking for a new job.
-I'm not gonna fire you.

- I'm gonna quit.
-What do you wanna do that for?

That's a silly question coming
from a man who knows all the answers.

None of the others quit.
Why should I, is that it?

Don't let it worry you, Porter. Maybe it's
just a new twist in the same old act.

--There's the cab.

- I'll take you to the door.
-You stay where you are.

This time it's good-bye
and no kidding.

Maybe you're right, Porter.
Maybe I'm a fool.

But maybe you're
the biggest fool in the world.

- Lora Mae.

- Happy New Year!
-Happy New Year.

- Will you stand still?
-Oh, this dress ain't my type at all.

For one thing,
it's too high in the front.

If my best dress ain't good enough for you,
you can get out of it right now.

Just don't give me that
big sacrifice routine.

You'd wear it yourself
if you had someplace to go.

Okay, that does it.

Take it off.

It was Ma's idea for me
to wear it, not yours.

It's still my dress and you got
30 seconds to get out of it.

Just because it's New Year's Eve
and you haven't even got a date...

Auld Lang Syne...

You're gonna look silly running round
this kitchen stark naked.

- Ma!
-Ten seconds to go.

Just because you got
Porter Hollingsway mad at you...

Five seconds!

- Ma!
- Lora Mae!

Can't we have some peace in this house
even on New Year's Eve?

You got it mixed up with Christmas.

New Year's Eve is when people
go back to killing each other.

Which reminds me,
I gotta go to work.

That's a fine way to see
the new year in,

serving up champagne
for Mrs. Addie Ross and friends.

It beats sitting alone
with a glass of stale beer.

Forget it, Sadie.
I didn't mean it the way it sounded.

I know. Tell you what, comes midnight,
I'll slip Porter Hollingsway a mickey.

- Don't bother.
-it's a pleasure. Night, kids.

- Happy New Year, Sadie.
-Is he goin' to be at the Addie Ross party?

That's what the invite says.

She's expecting the pleasure
of his company.

How do you know?

Listen, when they hire Sadie Dugan
for a waitress, they submit a guest list.

- And Lora Mae could have been there too.
-Stop pickin' on her!

- Who's pickin' on her?
-You and Babe.

You stop it and make Babe stop it too.

Of all the time to quit a job, just before
Christmas with all the bills clue

and five months due on the icebox.

You got to make up your mind

whether you want your kids happy
or your icebox paid up.

- Oh, not for all the iceboxes in the world...
-Oh, relax.

Have a good time tonight
at the bingo party.

Gee, I wish you were gonna be there.

- Happy New Year, Ruby.
-Happy New Year, Sadie.

You sure you don't want
to come play bingo with me?

Thanks, Ma.

I'll be home before midnight.

Oh, you don't have to on my account.
I'm going to bed early.

Well, I better go get dressed.

- Hi, Lora Mae.
-Hi, Nick.

Babe ready yet?

Unless she's beat her brains out
with a powder puff.

- Sit down. Give me a cigarette, huh?
-Sure.

Hey, how come you ain't dressed up
for New Year's Eve?

I am. I'm going to a fancy dress ball.

Yeah? As what?

- A queen.
-A queen?

A queen in a silver frame.

I don't get it.

I'll go see what's keeping Babe.

- Who are you?
-I...

Where's Miss Finney?

Well, she'll be out in a minute,
Mr. Hollingsway.

We met somewheres?

Not exactly, Mr. Hollingsway.
I work in your shipping room.

- You waitin' for Miss Finney?
-Yes, sir.

- What's your name?
-Nick. Nicholas Butler.

We're just good friends, kinda,
Miss Finney and me.

Mm.

But I worked in your shipping room
three years, Mr. Hollingsway.

Baboon Face...

- This is my sister, Babe.
-My real name's Georgiana.

Oh, what do you say, Babe.

Happy New Year, Mr. Hollingsway.

I thought Baboon Face
was waiting for you.

He used to. I gave him to Babe.
He goes with the dress.

- Have you got another dress?
-Why?

- I want to take you to a party.
-Addie Ross's party?

- Yeah.
-Maybe she wouldn't like that.

She said she'd be delighted.

She must need another waitress.

I told her we had a date and not
to expect me if you'd made other plans.

We haven't got a date and I haven't made
any plans, so why don't you just run along.

We could go someplace else.

- No.
-Why not?

You know why not.

- These are for you.
-Thanks.

- Put 'em on.
-I'm not goin' anywhere.

You wouldn't want to let 'em die.

I'll put 'em in the icebox.

The orchids ain't paid for either.

- I can't take it anymore.
-I thought we decided to leave it alone.

It's worse not seeing you,
knowing you're here.

Maybe I ought to leave town.

Wonderin' about you, who you're with,
who you're lookin' at, who you're kissin'...

- Easy now.
-I can't sleep nights thinkin' about you.

So what? What do I do about it,

start the same thing all over again
and wind up the same way?

And what about the way I feel?
My sleep?

But then I'm not even human, am I?
I'm just a great big act.

- You know what you're doin' to me.
-And you know all the answers.

I can't take it anymore.

Oh, what's the use, Porter?

Tell Addie Ross it's the
cook's night out

and I had to stay home with the icebox.

Okay.

Okay, you win. I'll marry you.

How about it?

Thanks, for nothin'.

Now what kind of an answer is that?

I don't know.
I just felt like it, that's all.

We'll do all right, kid.

We're startin' out where
it takes most marriages years to get,

out in the open, no jokers, you'll see.

You've made a good deal, Lora Mae.

Lora Mae, honey, if you want me,
I'll be over at the Callahans' playing...

Happy New Year, Ma.
We're gonna get married.

...bingo.

Well, see you tonight at the club.

- George?
-Hello, there.

George. George, darling.

- Hey, what brings this on?
-Oh, George, I've got to know something.

There's something I'll just die
if I don't know right away.

Wait till I turn off...

No. No, don't. Don't ever turn it off,
that wonderful music.

Have you been drinking?

Tell me right away, George.
Tell me the truth.

- About what?
-Why didn't you go fishing today?

--Oh, the phone.

And you never dress up when there's
no school. Why the blue suit today?

Well, there's a little story
connected with that.

Mrs. Phipps, you're wanted
on the telephone. It's her.

- Who?
-Whosis. The one with the husband.

- Mrs. Manleigh.
-Tell her I'm not in.

She called you twice this afternoon.

- Not if you don't want me to.
-Talk to her.

Hello? Hello, Mrs. Manleigh.
Yes, so I hear. I wasn't home. Turn it up.

I see.

Now, look, Mrs. Manleigh,

that woman doesn't change the cheese
your husband manufactures,

why should she change what I write?

No, I'm sorry.

I said I'm sorry. I will not work tonight.

Because, Mrs. Manleigh, my husband
doesn't like me to work on weekends.

Yes, he's right here.

But he's not twisting my arm.
I made up my mind all by myself.

No. You'll have the copy Monday.

Good-bye, Mrs. Manleigh.

- Peace, it's wonderful.
-Answer my questions.

Well, that night, the night of the Big Wind,
I came home with some news.

You were preoccupied, so after
a couple of tries, I decided to skip it.

It was just that the high school
dramatics society,

decided to do Twelfth Night
and asked me to direct it.

The first rehearsal was today, and I thought
my blue suit was more appropriate

-than a pair of wading boots...
-And Addie knew about it.

Which accounts for,
"if music be the fool of love, play on."

And on and on.

Good evening, Thomasino.

- Did Mr. Bishop call?
-Lady call up, leave this message.

- Mr. Bishop's secretary?
-Didn't say, ma'am.

Mr. Bishop called to say

he is very sorry
he will not be home tonight.

And here are
the results of the eighth,

the winner, number seven, Hoop Skirt,

second, number three, Penny Wise,

- third, number six, Pound Foolish.

- Hoop Skirt paid 60...

You ought to use a walkie-talkie.
It don't make so much noise.

That was the last race.
Sadie's right. That track's crooked.

It isn't the track, it's the horses.
They fix things up amongst themselves.

How come Porter's so late tonight?

- Want a drink?
-Some of that green peppermint stuff.

Créme de menthe.
I can't stand it. Never could.

- I love it.

It's 7:30. He's never been this late.

Ma, Porter may not be home at all.

- You mean tonight'?
-Any night. I think he's gone away for good.

- With somebody else? I don't believe it.
-I do.

Porter would never leave you for good,
and not for another woman.

- Why not?
-Because he's in love with you.

What?

Because he's just plain crazy
in love with you.

- Are you out of your mind?
-I thought I heard soft voices in here.

Hello, Porter.

What's the fight about this time,
furs, jewelry or cash?

- My children and me never fight.
-Fix me a drink, will you? I'm tired.

And the reason we
never fight bein'

my children know that I know
what I'm talkin' about.

Maybe your father Joe Finney wasn't
exactly a saint, may he rest in peace,

but I learned about men from him.

- Too much soda.
-No more so than usual.

I'm too tired to play with it tonight.
I wanna drink it.

Addie Ross left town today
and took somebody's husband with her.

- Yeah?
-You seem real excited about it,

like I told you
we were having lamb for dinner.

What do you want me to do,
sue somebody? I'm tired.

I figured you might be the lucky boy.

Then it must have broke your heart
when lwalked in here.

Funny you should mention my heart.

So you figured I ran away with Addie Ross.

How'd it feel?
You don't have to tell me. I can tell you.

You ought to go on Information Please.

So what? I got mine.
That's what you thought to yourself.

You ought to get a concession at some
carnival. You're a regular mind reader.

Three years of playing the good wife.
Here's where I cash in.

Here comes the payoff.
That's what you thought.

I've been a good wife.
The best wife your money could buy.

Strictly cash and carry.

Isn't that what you wanted?
Isn't that what you told me?

"Out in the open.
You made a good deal, kid."

Did you ever stop to think, Porter,
that in over three years,

there's one word we've never said
to each other, even in fun?

To you, I'm a cash register.
You can't love a cash register.

And I'm part of your inventory.
You can't love that either.

I asked you to marry me
because I was crazy about you.

You didn't even ask me!

I've been a good husband.
You got everything you want.

If you'd only asked me, if you'd only
made me feel like a woman,

-instead of a piece of merchandise.
-Did you give me a chance to?

All you ever showed me was your price tag.

You better get dressed.
We're meeting the others at half past 8:00.

I'll be ready when you are.

- She walks in beauty like the night.
-Hello, George.

Of cloudless climes and starry skies

and all that's good of dark...

You're the most dreamy thing
I've ever hated at sight.

Thanks so much.

- How are the martinis?
- Very high and dry.

- Let me bring you up to date.
-No, thanks.

- Not drinking?
-Not at the moment.

Say, how long a wait do you suppose

before Brad comes sliding down
the banister?

- A rough idea.
-He's not here.

What do you mean he's not here?

Brad's not here.

There was a message when I got home
saying he wouldn't be back tonight.

Well, perhaps you'd rather
not go without him.

- Why not?
-Well...

Then how about having just
one with us before we leave?

Thanks. I feel fine just as I am.

Oh, a tiny one, for medicinal purposes
against the night air, huh?

- She doesn't want one, George.
-Well, then, uh, shall we?

- Sure you don't want a drink?
-Sure.

You know who that guy is? A bookie.

All the barbershops and saloons
in town dancing with my wife.

- He came over and asked very politely.
-She'd dance with anybody.

She waited to see
if you had any objections.

I wouldn't object
if a chimpanzee asked her.

- Then you've got no right to complain.
-Oh, I've got no complaints.

I'm happy Joe from Kokomo.
Greatest little wife in the world.

Fine home. Fine friends.
Everybody loves me.

Oh, why don't you stop acting
like a spoiled baby?

Everybody loves Porter.

I'm fed up listening to your waa-waa-waa.

You're always talking about being
such a man. You don't even act grown up.

- What are you gettin' sore about?
-You. You're so stupid.

Now wait a minute!

Have you any idea how much
Lora Mae's in love with you?

No, how much?

So much she's afraid to tell you,
afraid you'd laugh at her.

Me laugh? She couldn't say it
with a straight face.

Lora Mae in love with me?
It's all she can do to wait it out.

- Wait it out?
-Yeah, like an annuity till it matures.

Like a slot machine till it pays off.
That's what she's waitin' for.

A chance to call it off, to collect.
"The end of the line. Fares, please."

Don't tell me about love and Lora Mae.

Oh, George.

There's a fine, relaxed
atmosphere at this table,

-as if there were a body hidden under it.
-I'm sorry.

Oh, I was only kidding.

What was it you called Addie
down at the pier, the dear departed?

Maybe that's who's under the table,
only it's Brad.

Deborah, why are you letting all this nice,
cold champagne fizz itself to death?

It sounds like one of
your quotations, Professor.

Can you give me something
fitting for the occasion?

Well, why not make up your own?
It's more fun.

I don't understand this conversation
at all. How drunk am I?

- Thank you very much, Mrs. Hollingsway.
-Let's do it again sometime.

- And thank you, Mr. Hollingsway.
-Yeah.

He seems pleasant enough. Who is he?

A business associate of my mother's.

He's a bookie. Your mother bets with him.

Will everyone excuse me, please?
I think I'd like to leave.

- I'll drive you, Deborah.
-I'd rather go by myself, if you don't mind.

- What's goin' on here?
-Shut up.

- Why not spend the night with us, Debby?
-Thanks just the same.

Will somebody tell me
what this is all about?

Later. I'll tell you later.

- Don't you know, Porter?
-No.

Let's go for a little walk.

No. I want to tell Porter
what he doesn't know.

I want to say it out loud.
The reason I want to go home, Porter,

is because I've been spoiling
everybody's fun.

Don't be silly, Deb...

I've tried hard to make believe
the way you do,

Porter, but I'm not as much
of a man as you are.

- I can't anymore.
-Make believe about what?

Don't you know by now?
You're not as smart as I thought, Porter.

You want it in so many words?

- All right, then.
- Deborah...

My husband has run away
with Addie Ross.

Please, nobody get up. Good night.

- Sit down.
-Porter, please.

- Sit down for a moment.
-Let her go, Porter.

You keep out of it. Everyone else too.

Just for a minute?

Brad didn't run away with Addie Ross.
I did.

But how? You're here.

A man can change his mind, can't he?

- Porter, you're quite a guy.
-Thanks.

She'd have known in the morning anyway.

She'd have had a tough night.
She's just a kid.

Dance with me, George.

Rita, do you mind
just another minute?

Okay, you got it. They all heard me say
I ran away with another woman.

You've got everything you need.

You can take me for everything
you'll ever want.

Like always, Porter,

when you start knocking on that brandy
bottle, you'll come up with anything.

I guess I stopped listening.

'Cause if you said something,
I just didn't hear it.

Why don't everybody dance?

Lora Mae.

You big gorilla.

Let's dance?

Heigh-ho.
Good night, everybody.