MUSIC:

TRUMPET FANFARE

Anncr:

The Esso Five Star Theatre, tonight presenting Groucho and Chico Marx.

MUSIC:

SIGNATURE THEME

Anncr:

The Five Star Theater starts another week of programming with presentations of a scope, magnitude and variety never before assembled under one banner..

Under the patronage of the Standard Oil Companies of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Louisiana and the Colonial Beacon Oil Company, the Five Star Theatre will present a brand-new radio attraction every night in the week except Saturday and Sunday. Five stellar productions each week. Every night a first night. With the world's greatest singers, musicians, actors, writers and speakers collaborating in a gigantic entertainment program for your enjoyment. This, in a word, is the Five Star Theater, and here is this week's programs:

Tonight, the inimitable Marx Brothers, Groucho and Chico, starring in Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel.

Tuesday night, Josef Bonime's Symphony Orchestra, with John Charles Thomas as guest soloist.

Wednesday night hear a dramatization of Rex Beach's story, Cool Waters, with Mr. Rex Beach as guest speaker.

Thursday, the Aborn Opera Company will be featured in Franz Leh?r's opera, The Merry Widow, broadcast by special arrangement with Tams-Witmark.

And on Friday night at seven-thirty p.m., that beloved detective of fiction, Charlie Chan, in a dramatization of The Black Camel, by Earl Der Biggers.

And now for tonight's feature. Groucho Marx is here, ready for his role as Waldorf T. Flywheel--black mustache, horn-rimmed spectacles and all. There's Chico, too, looking just the way he does in the pictures. Ready to portray Emmanuel Ravelli, Italian accent and all.

The orchestra is tuning up, the overture is about to begin.

MUSIC:

OVERTURE

Anncr:

The curtain is rising on the offices of Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel. That's Miss Dimple at the switchboard.

FX:

TYPEWRITER, THEN PHONE RINGS, IS PICKED UP

Dimple:

Law offices of Flywheel, Shyster and Flywheel . . . No, Mr. Flywheel isn't in. He's in court, trying your husband's case . . . Uh-huh . . .

FX:

DOOR OPENS; CLOSES

Dimple:

Just a second . . here he is . . . (To Flywheel) Oh, Mr. Flywheel. Here's Mrs. Watson on the phone . . .

Flywheel:

Good. I was just going to call her. (Jovial.) Hello, Mrs. Watson. How are you? That's fine . . . Your husband? Oh yes, I meant to tell you . . . He got five years in prison . . . But don't worry, Mrs. Watson. I've got a very pleasant surprise for you. I'm going to knock ten percent off my bill . . . Goodbye.

FX:

PHONE HANGING UP

Flywheel:

Miss Dimple, Miss Dimple, put down that telephone book. This office is no place for a bookworm!

Dimple:

Yes, Mr. Flywheel.

Flywheel:

Any mail this morning?

Dimple:

Yes, there's a letter from the typewriter company. They say you haven't paid for the typewriter yet.

Flywheel:

Why should I pay for the typewriter? You're the only who uses it.

Dimple:

But Mr. Flywheel, I--

Flywheel:

Never mind, take a letter to those cheap chiselers. Ah . . . Gentlemen . . . I never ordered that typewriter . . . If I did, you didn't send it . . . If you sent it, I never got it . . . If I got it, I paid for it . . . And if I didn't, I won't. Best regards.

Dimple:

Anything else, Mr. Flywheel?

Flywheel:

Yes . . . Love and kisses. But don't send them. They're for you . . . And now . . . take a letter to the Peerless Building Supply Company. (Pompously). Gentlemen, I refuse to accept a penny less than fifty dollars for the electrical fixtures in my office. In case I do not hear from you, I shall conclude that you do not wish to pay more than twelve dollars . . . So, in order to lose no time, I shall accept the twelve dollars.

Dimple:

But Mr. Flywheel! You can't sell those fixtures. They belong to the landlord.

Flywheel:

Well, he ought to be glad. I'm only selling his fixtures so I can pay for his rent. Say, tell that assistant of mine to wrap up the chandelier.

Dimple:

Mr. Ravelli? He isn't in yet.

Flywheel:

Well, when he comes in you better tell him to take out more fire insurance. I'm gonna fire him on Saturday.

FX:

DOOR OPENS

Dimple:

Why, here he comes. Hello, Mr. Ravelli.

Ravelli:

Hello, Miss Dimp. Hello, boss.

Flywheel:

Ravelli, do you realize you're a half hour late?

Ravelli:

I couldn't help it, Mr. Flywheel. I fell down a whole flight of stairs.

Flywheel:

Well, does you take a half hour to fall down one flight of stairs? Anyway, I don't believe that story.

Ravelli:

Awright, if you don't believe dat story, I tell you anodder one . . . I came late because we had a little money trouble at our house.

Dimple:

Money trouble, Mr. Ravelli?

Ravelli:

Yeah, my little brudder he swallowed a nickel.

Dimple:

Really? What did you do?

Ravelli:

Well, next week's his birthday anyway, so I let him keep da nickel.

Flywheel:

Hey, stop jabbering and clean out my desk.

Ravelli:

I cleaned out da desk yesterday . . . Dat's where I got da nickel.

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Dimple:

Come in.

Flywheel:

Ravelli, I'm going into my private office. When I come back I don't want to catch you loafing.

Ravelli:

Awright, if you don't want to catch me loafing you better whistle before you come out.

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Dimple:

I said come in.

FX:

DOOR OPENS; CLOSES

Dimple:

Mr. Ravelli, I think he's selling something.

Salesman:

(Breezily) Well, well, well. Just what I like to see . . . a busy little office with bright, smiling faces.

Ravelli:

Aw, shut up.

Salesman:

Ah . . . er . . . er . . . excuse me, you see, I represent the Excelsior House-to-House Merchandise Company . . .

Ravelli:

Well, dere's nobody here by dat name. Dis is Flywheel's office.

Salesman:

You don't understand. If you'll just give me a moment of your time, I'd like to show you a few choice values in neckties, safety razors, hair tonic . . . Say, let me tell you about this tonic. It's the real thing.

Ravelli:

Awright, gimme a taste.

Salesman:

(Trying to be patient) No, no. Now before I began using this tonic, my hair was getting pret-tee thin.

Ravelli:

Well, it don't look so fat now.

Salesman:

You just try it once. We guarantee every bottle.

Ravelli:

Oh, the bottle she looks all right, but I tink the stuff inside is no good . . . Hey, how much for dat necktie?

Salesman:

Now you're talking. I'm going to sell you that tie for a dollar.

Ravelli:

(Incredulous) A dollar?

Salesman:

Yes, brother. And it's a steal at that price.

Ravelli:

Hey, if I'm a-gonna steal it, I can get it for nothing.

Salesman:

A dollar and the tie is yours. Why I paid ninety-five cents for it myself.

Ravelli:

Well, if you paid only ninety-five cents, why should I pay a dollar?

Salesman:

Well, the nickel's my profit. You know, I got a wife to support.

Ravelli:

You tink I'm a-gonna help support your wife? Nobody supports my wife--not even me . . . I'll tell you what--you leave da necktie, and I'll send you ninety-five cents care of Woodlawn Cemetery.

Salesman:

(Indignant) Woodlawn Cemetery? That's not my address.

Ravelli:

Well, it will be by da time I send you da ninety-five cents. (Laughs) Some joke, eh?

Salesman:

(Furious) Aw, I can see I'm wasting my time here.

Ravelli:

Well, it took you a long time to find it out.

Salesman:

Goodbye!

FX:

DOOR SLAMS

FX:

DOOR OPENS

Flywheel:

Did I hear someone come in?

Ravelli:

Yeah, a wise guy. He wanted a nickel for his wife.

Flywheel:

A nickel for his wife? Well, that sounds cheap enough--Was she good looking?

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Ravelli:

Awright, come in.

FX:

DOOR OPENS

Bardwell:

Mr. Flywheel. Permit to introduce myself. I'm Bertram T. Bardwell. I suppose you've been hearing about my charity work and my fight against crime? Flywheel: Oh yes, I've been hearing about for a number of years, and I'm getting pretty sick of it, too.

Bardwell:

Why, er, er . . . I happened to be in court this morning when I heard your thrilling address to the jury sent that man to prison for five years, where he belongs.

Flywheel:

My speech sent him to prison? (Laughs) That's a good one on the jury. I was defending that guy.

Bardwell:

Just a moment, Mr. Flywheel. Let me ask you a question.

Ravelli:

Hey, I got a question too, boss. What animal likes dirt, always plays in the mud, and eats anything?

Flywheel:

I know, Ravelli, it's you.

Ravelli:

(Disappointed) Aww . . . somebody told you.

Bardwell:

(Annoyed) Mr. Flywheel, my organization is waging an intensive fight against crime in this city, and I feel that you're a man who can help us drive the crooks out of town.

Ravelli:

Hey! Why should we drive 'em out? Let 'em walk.

Flywheel:

Nice work, Ravelli.

Bardwell:

You see, gentlemen, my committee is determined to rid the city of Public Enemy Number One, Big Joe Crookley. Although Crookley himself is in hiding, he has crime organized like a big business. In fact, some of his gangsters have an office only two doors from here.

Flywheel:

Bardwell, you came to the right man. There isn't enough room in this town for gangsters and me, Waldorf T. Flywheel. That's why we're putting up a big hotel in the spring.

Ravelli:

Boss, you leave it to me. Ravelli'sa plenty smart. I go next door and tell dem gangsters to move.

Flywheel:

An excellent idea, Ravelli. But wait a minute. You've got your hat on wrong.

Ravelli:

Well, I don't know which way I'm going yet. And say, if you see my brudder, tell him to wait.

Flywheel:

I don't know your brother.

Ravelli:

I never thought of dat. Awright, den tell him not to wait. Goodbye.

FX:

DOOR CLOSES

Bardwell:

Mr. Flywheel, I can see you are a man of action. Some time later I'd like to interest you in our charity work, too.

Flywheel:

Charity work . . . hmm . . . Bardwell, I'm not the kind of fellow who likes to talk about his good deeds, but it may interest you to know that I've been sending pretty large-sized checks to various charities, and not even the charities know that the money came from me.

Bardwell:

But Mr. Flywheel, I don't understand. Couldn't they tell by the name on the checks?

Flywheel:

No, no, that's how modest I am. I didn't even sign the checks.

Dimple:

Why, Mr. Flywheel, what's this? Someone just put a note under the door.

Flywheel:

Well, pick up the door and get it.

Dimple:

It says . . . why, good heavens. It's from Crookley's gangsters. They've kidnapped Mr. Ravelli for meddling in their affairs.

Bardwell:

Kidnapped him?

Dimple:

Listen to this: "Unless you send us ten thousand dollars, we will kill Emmanuel Ravelli."

Bardwell:

They'll kill him? Mr. Flywheel, what are you going to do?

Flywheel:

Keep cool, Bardwell. Miss Dimple, take a letter to Big Joe Crookley. Dear Joe: Received yours of the fifth inst., in which you state that unless I send ten thousand, you will kill Ravelli . . . I haven't got the money, but the proposition sounds very attractive. Send further details.

MUSIC:

UP STRONG AND THEN OUT AS FX BEGINS)

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR. PAUSE. LOUDER KNOCK

Slim:

(Hoarse whisper) Who's dere?

Crookley:

Open dat door, Slim. It's me, Crookley.

Slim:

O.K. chief, I was scairt it was de cops.

FX:

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

Crookley:

You don't have to be scairt. De cops won't ever find dis place. Where's dat fella, Ravelli?

Slim:

Inside eatin'. Dat's all he's been doing since we grabbed him off a week ago. Hey, chief, is dat lawyer Flywheel comin' trough wid de ten grand?

Crookley:

I tink so. He's on his way over here now.

Slim:

Say, what if he brings da cops?

Crookley:

Don't worry. He won't go shootin' off his mouth. I told Flywheel what's food for him. And now I tink I'll have a little talk wid Ravelli.

Slim:

Right, chief.

FX:

DOOR OPENS

Crookley:

Hey, Ravelli.

FX:

DISHES RATTLING

Crookley:

Ravelli, put dat dish down. I'm talking to you.

Ravelli:

(Cheery) Oh, hello, Mister Crookley. Sit down, have a piece of pie. I just had tree pieces and I'm afraid to eat any more.

Crookley:

What?

Ravelli:

Sure, if I eata too much pie I'm afraid I get pie-areah.

Crookley:

Look here, mug. We been treating you pretty nice. You know why? Because if Flywheel don't show up wid dat ten thousand bucks today, you ain't gonna live very long.

Ravelli:

Hey, you crazy? I feela fine. I tink I eat some more pie.

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Crookley:

Who is it?

Slim:

Say chief. There's a guy comin' in. I tink it's dat Flywheel.

Ravelli:

Flywheel? Don't let him in till I hide the pie.

Crookley:

Bring him up here.

Slim:

(From distance) O.K. chief . . . This way mister.

Crookley:

Well, Flywheel, I--

Flywheel:

Cut out the formalities. When are you gonna kill Ravelli?

Ravelli:

(Alarmed) Hey, boss, is dat what dey wanna do?

Flywheel:

Don't be alarmed, Ravelli. I've fixed everything. I've written a farewell not to your wife, and I've sent flowers to your sweetheart. I've also arranged for a nice, quite little funeral. There'll be eight carriages for your family and a motorcycle for your friends.

Crookley:

Quit stalling, Flywheel. Did you raise that money?

Flywheel:

Oh, I raised the money all right, but unfortunately I had to spend it on Ravelli's funeral.

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Crookley:

Come on in.

FX:

DOOR OPENS, CLOSES

Slim:

Hey, chief, I gotta talk to you.

Crookley:

Awright, I'll be right wid you. Listen, Flywheel, you an' Ravelli stay right here. Come over here, Slim. What is it?

Slim:

(Hoarse whisper) Chief, Butch just called and said we better lay low on dese guys. The cops is all steamed up about de kidnaping and dey kinda suspeck you.

Crookley:

(Whisper) O.K.. I'll try to grab off the dough, an' t'row 'em both out.

Slim:

(Whisper) Yeah . . . (receding) Maybe you'd better, chief.

FX:

DOOR OPENS, CLOSES

Crookley:

Look here Flywheel, forget the ten grand. You give me five thousand dollars and Ravelli can leave here.

Ravelli:

Sure, I like to leave here. It's a very nice house to leeve in.

Crookley:

Well, what about the five thousand?

Flywheel:

Five thousand? Crookley, can you make it three thousand?

Crookley:

All right, I'll make it three thousand.

Flywheel:

That's talking, Crookley. Now if you'll make it two thousand, I'll make it one thousand . . . I haven't got the thousand in cash, but I'll give you my note for thirty days, and if isn't paid by then you can keep the note.

Crookley:

Listen, you guys. I'm gonna give you exactly five minutes to make up your minds. When I come back, you're either gonna fork over the dough, or it'll be curtains for both of you. Get me? Curtains for both of you. (Receding) Now, think fast.

FX:

DOOR OPENS, CLOSES

Ravelli:

Boss, we're in a tight fix. Whata we gonna do?

Flywheel:

First, Ravelli, I think I'll have a piece of that pie. Take some for yourself.

Ravelli:

Tanks, boss, I'm full.

Flywheel:

Well, put some in your pockets.

Ravelli:

Der full, too.

FX:

KNOCK ON DOOR

Ravelli:

(Whisper) It's Crookley!

Flywheel:

Crookley? He's probably bringing us the curtains.

Crookley:

(Outside door) Better hurry up, you guys. You got just two more minutes.

Flywheel:

Ravelli, I've got to give this a lot of thought.

Ravelli:

Hey, boss, I gotta idea--

Flywheel:

Be quite! I can't hear myself talk.

Ravelli:

Dat's all right. You ain't missin' anyting. (Suddenly) Say! It's cold in dis room.

Flywheel:

It is kind of chilly. See what the thermometer says.

Ravelli:

Aw, you can't believe dat thermometer. One day it'sa sixty; next day it'sa sixty- five--it'sa no good.

Flywheel:

Well, the thermometer ought to be kept at seventy.

Ravelli:

I can fix dat easy. I just light a match under it. Watch.

FX:

MATCH STRIKING

Flywheel:

Ravelli! Be careful of those draperies!

Ravelli:

Hey, boss. Dey're burning. Oh boy, look at dat fire!

Flywheel:

(Calling sweetly) Oh, Crookley!

Flywheel:

(From outside door) Whata you want?

Flywheel:

Can I use your telephone?

Crookley:

You tink I'm crazy?

Flywheel:

Answer my question first. Can I use your telephone?

Crookley:

(Sneering) And' let you call the cops, I suppose.

Flywheel:

Not at all, I just wanted to call the fire department . . . and ask them where the nearest alarm box is . . . Crookley, I don't want to seem like an old gossip, but your house is on fire.

Crookley:

(Outside) What! What's dat?

FX:

DOOR OPENS

Crookley:

(Approaching mic) Whata you guys been up to? Slim!

Slim:

(From outside, excitedly) What's up?! What's wrong?!

Crookley:

Quick! Bring some water.

Flywheel:

You can make mine ginger ale.

Ravelli:

And I'll take some pie. Hey, I know a song about pie. (Singing) Good Pie Forever*1

Flywheel:

Say, Crookley, why don't you call the fire department? I know all the boys at Hook and Ladder 78. And tell 'em to bring along a deck of pinochle cards.

Crookley:

Nothin' doin'! I don't want no cops or firemen snoopin' aroun' here.

Ravelli:

He's right, boss. Dere's no use-a callin' da fire department now. Da place is on fire already.

Flywheel:

Ravelli, open the windows. Open the windows! This smoke is beginning to get to me.

Ravelli:

Yeah, der's too much smoke. Ya better put out your cee-gar.

Slim:

Boys! The fire's spreading fast. Better start running.

Ravelli:

Hey, Flywheel, I know a good place to run to.

Flywheel:

(Excitedly) Where, Ravelli, where?

Ravelli:

To run to. To run to, Canada. (Laughs). Hot stuff, eh, boss?

FX:

SIRENS APPROACH

Crookley:

Slim! It's the fire department--the cops, too! Watch your step.

FX:

SMASHING DOOR, BREAKING GLASS

Men's voices:

This way! I think there's somebody in there.

Slim:

Gee, Crookley, you better duck.

Crookley:

Don't worry, Slim. De cops around here won't recognize me. Listen, Flywheel. No cracks about me being Joe Crookley, if you know what's good for you.

Flywheel:

Count on me, Crookley, old boy. I'll see that your name isn't mentioned . . . (Sweetly) Oh, Policeman! Policeman!

Officer:

What is it?

Flywheel:

I want you to meet Emmanuale Ravelli, the fellow who started the fire--

Officer:

What?

Flywheel:

And before I forget it, when you report this fire, don't mention Joe Crookley's name because there's a warrant out for his arrest.

MUSIC IN STRONG, THEN FADE FOR NEXT SCENE

FX:

BUZZ OF CONVERSATION

Bailiff:

Silence in the court . . . His honor, the judge . . . Everybody rise.

Clerk:

(Droning) Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the municipal court is now in session and stands until adjournment.

FX:

BUZZING OF CONVERSATION; GAVEL SILENCES THEM

Judge:

What's the next case, clerk?

Clerk:

It's the preliminary hearing, your honor, in the case of Joseph "Big Joe" Crookley, charged with the kidnaping of Emmanuel Ravelli.

Judge:

Proceed with the hearing.

Bardwell:

Your honor, please . . . one moment.

Judge:

What is it, Mr. Bardwell?

Bardwell:

Your honor, I'd like to say a few words in behalf of the Citizens Committee Against Crime.

Judge:

Of course, Mr. Bardwell.

Bardwell:

My organization regards this case as tremendously significant, and wants to commend Mr. Flywheel here in open court for his noble, fearless, public-spirited activities in bringing that archenemy of the people, Joe Crookley, to justice.

FX:

APPLAUSE BY CROWD

Flywheel:

Thanks, folks. Thanks . . . I've waited and struggled a long time for this honor. Why, I began life as a barefoot boy--

Ravelli:

At'sa nuttin', boss. When I was born I was naked.

FX:

LAUGHTER FROM CROWD; GAVEL SILENCES THEM

Judge:

Gentlemen, the court wants this case to proceed.

Flywheel:

Very well, your honor, if you and Ravelli will keep your traps shut, I'll proceed. As I was about to say, before the judge horned in, when I was a wee bit of a tot, I was left an orphan--

Ravelli:

You was left an orphan? What did you do wit it?

FX:

LAUGHTER; GAVEL

Judge:

Mr. Flywheel! The court must ask you to sit down. Now, Mr. District Attorney, proceed with the hearing.

D.A.:

If your honor please, the state's attorney's office has office has been requested by the Citizens Committee to let Mr. Flywheel conduct the prosecution, because of his splendid work in tracking down Joe Crookley.

Judge:

Very good. Joseph Crookley, where's your attorney?

Crookley:

Judge, Iofferedd to pay plenty, but I couldn't get a lawyer in dis town with nerve enough to take my case. I even offered to pay as high as five thousands bucks.

Flywheel:

Just a minute, your honor. I'm talking now not as Flywheel, the lawyer, but as Flywheel, the man--the defender of human rights. In a court of justice, your honor, every man has certain inalienable rights. Every man has a right to advice and counsel of a lawyer--especially if he has five thousand dollars. Crookley, I'll take your case. Trot out the five thousand clams.

Judge:

Mr. Flywheel, the court was under the impression that you were going to prosecute Crookley.

Flywheel:

Well, I was under that impression, too . . . until I heard about the five thousand. Let's start the case. The first witness for the defense is Emmanuel Ravelli.

Judge:

Mr. Flywheel, you can't call Ravelli for the defense. He's the man who says he was kidnaped.

Flywheel:

Oh, so that's the story he's been spreading! Well, he's a liar.

Ravelli:

Hey, whata you mean, callin' me a liar?

Flywheel:

You're a liar. I didn't call you a liar . . . See, your honor? He wouldn't tell the truth under oath. Ravelli, get up there and take the oath.

Ravelli:

O.K., boss.

FX:

MURMUR OF CROWD; GAVEL

Clerk:

Order! Order! Emmanuel Ravelli, do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Ravelli:

(Disturbed) Hey, you me to lose my job?

Flywheel:

Emmanuel Ravelli, where were you born?

Ravelli:

I wasn't born, I had a stepmotter.

Judge:

Come, come, Ravelli. Tell the court your birthday.

Ravelli:

What you wanna know for, Judge? You ain't gonna buy me nuttin'.

Flywheel:

He's right, your honor. You haven't bought a thing since you bought your place on the bench.

Judge:

See here, Mr. Flywheel, the court considers that remark most unnecessary and vicious.

Ravelli:

Hey, judge, dat's what I got for my birthday.

Judge:

You got what?

Ravelli:

Vicious--I got a telegram with very best vicious. (Laughs) Some joke!

Judge:

Please, can we get on with this hearing! Mr. Ravelli, will you kindly state your age.

Ravelli:

Sure, judge, I'm joosta twenty-eight.

Judge:

Twenty-eight? Why, you said you were twenty-eight when you appeared here in court two years ago.

Ravelli:

Well, when Ravelli says something in court, he sticks to it.

Flywheel:

There you are, your honor. I guess that'll hold you for a while. I make a motion that you dismiss the charges against my client.

Judge:

Motion denied! Mr. Flywheel, have you any other witnesses? I don't think this one is intelligent enough to understand court proceedings.

Flywheel:

(Laughs) Did you hear that, Ravelli? Your honor, just to show you what a fool you're making of yourself, I'm going to give my witness an intelligence test. Ravelli, what's the first letter of the alphabet?

Ravelli:

Give me a hint.

Flywheel:

Ravelli, is that question so hard for you?

Ravelli:

No, the question's easy. But the answer's hard.

Flywheel:

All right, I'll try another one. Where was the Declaration of Independence signed?

Ravelli:

At the bottom!

Flywheel:

Right!

Judge:

The court cannot help but regard all this as irrelevant and immaterial. Mr. Flywheel, you now claim that Crookley did not kidnap Ravelli? How is that Crookley was found at the scene of the crime, where he was holding Ravelli prisoner?

Flywheel:

Frankly judge, that's got me kinof puzzleded, too . . Say, maybe it was Ravelli who kidnaped Crookley.

FX:

CROWD MURMURS; GAVEL

Judge:

Silence in the court.

Flywheel:

(Becoming eloquent) Your honor, in a case as important as this, we cannot be swayed by our emotions. Nothing matters but hard, cold facts. (Becoming tearfully emotional) Remember, I too have a baby . . . I met her in a dance hall . . . and your honor, I couldn't go home and face my baby if I felt that I was defending a guilty man.

Judge:

Just a moment, Mr Flywheel. The prosecution hasn't been heard from yet. Do you expect to talk much longer.

Flywheel:

Certainly. The longer I talk, the longer my client stays out of jail. Your honor, Joe Crookley is really a fine boy at heart. He's very good to his family . . . he never goes home. Why, for a whole year he didn't talk to his wife. And why didn't he talk to his wife? Because he didn't want to interrupt her. Your honor, I demand a habeas corpus.

Judge:

(Astonished) A habeas corpus?

Flywheel:

You needn't be embarrassed, judge, I don't know what it mean either.

Judge:

Mr. Flywheel, you've wasted enough of the court's time. Mr. District Attorney, call your witnesses.

D.A.:

Your honor, the state has been surprised in this case. We had counted on Emmanuel Ravelli as our witness. And since he's shifted to the defense, I'm afraid we have no case.

Judge:

In that event, I am forced -- much against my will -- to dismiss the charges and release the defendant, Joseph Crookley. Crookley, you may go.

Crookley:

Tanks, judge. (Receding) So long dere, Flywheel.

Flywheel:

Judge, he's leaving the court room! Bring him back!

Judge:

Bring Crookley back? What for?

Flywheel:

He owes me five thousand dollars.

Ravelli:

Aw, you crazy boss. We owe him five thousand dollars.

Flywheel:

We owe him five thousand dollars?

Ravelli:

Sure. He had ten thousand bucks in his pocketbook.

Flywheel:

Well?

Ravelli:

Well, I got his pocket book.

MUSIC:

UP STRONG TO END.

Anncr:

Keep your seats, people! The show isn't over. The mad Mr. Flywheel and his insane assistant, Emmanuel Ravelli, have gone for the night, it's true. But Groucho and Chico Marx are still very much with us, and are going to give us something brand new. They've concocted a little act entitled, "The Marx Brothers Motoring." Scene: an Esso service station, anywhere from Maine to Texas. Characters: Groucho, Chico and an Esso dealer. Here it is!

FX:

CAR APPROACHES; HORN, GRINDING BRAKES

Chico:

Whew! Boy, dat was fast driving! Groucho, you know you was goin' seventy miles an hour?

Groucho:

Well, I was in a hurry. The brakes on this car don't work, and I wanted to get here before we had an accident.

Chico:

Well, whata we gonna do here?

Groucho:

Get our oiled changed, of course.

Chico:

Why you wanna change it? Don't you like it anymore?

Groucho:

Sure I like it. But we've gone a lot of miles with it, and it's dirty.

Chico:

Dirty? Den what makes you think dey'll change it for you? Dis fellow here won't want your dirty oil. Groucho: Maybe you're right. I think I'll take some free air instead. Oh, dealer!

Dealer:

Yes, sir. Shall I change your oil? It pays to change to Essolube.

Groucho:

That's fine. How much does it pay?

Dealer:

It pays in value, sir. Essolube is the first five-quality oil ever made. Until it was developed, folks had to choose between two types of oil--

Chico:

I know, olive oil and castor oil.

Dealer:

No, I mean two types of motor oil. One had three of the five qualities a modern oil needs. The other had two of them. But there was no oil with all five. Then, after many years of work on a great invention so important that it won a Nobel prize, my company perfected hydrofining. And produced Essolube, the first five star oil.

Groucho:

It sounds too expensive. Better fill up the car with castor oil instead.

Dealer:

But it isn't expensive. That's another amazing thing about Essolube. It's regular- priced. Costs you less to buy than the oil you've got in there now, probably.

Chico:

At'sa fine.

Dealer:

Will you take a couple of quarts for your car?

Groucho:

A couple of quarts for this car? Sold! Give us the oil and the car is yours.

Anncr:

This concludes our Esso Five Star Theater presentation for this evening, brought to you by the Standard Oil Companies of New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Louisiana, and the Colonial Beacon Oil Company. These associated companies maintain a system of service stations from Maine to Texas.

Don't forget about tomorrow night's Five Star Theater presentation of Joseph Benumb's Symphony Orchestra with John Charles Thomas as guest solist. This is the finest musical unit ever assembled on the air. It will be a great treat for music lovers.

Good night, for Esso and Colonial Beacon.

MUSIC:

SIGNATURE MUSIC UP AND PLAY TO END.

Tune:

Good Bye, Sweetheart