A Letter to Three Wives Page #6

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 Id 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,

Im 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. Im 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.

- Right, 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. Im 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?

Ill take care of tidying up.

You better start your revisions.

Its all right.

Im 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.

Isnt that so?

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