ANNCR:

Mutual presents "Arch Oboler's Plays". The Mutual Broadcasting System has the pleasure of presenting the fifteenth broadcast of a special twenty-six week series of plays by radio playwright Arch Oboler. In this series, we hope to bring you dramas full of the excitement and the meaning of plays, told in relation to the expanding world in which we live. Tonight, in response to many requests, we bring you one of Mr. Oboler's most unusual plays: "Special to Hollywood".

SFX:

PROPELLER-POWERED PLANE, MOVING ALONG IN THE SKY ... ESTABLISH, THEN UNDER

MARK:

(STANDING AT THE COCKPIT) Now, look here, pilot, can't you make this thing go faster?

SAM:

Hm? Sorry. What'd ya say?

MARK:

Take those infernal earphones or whatever they are off your head, and listen to me! I said, can't you make this thing go faster?

SAM:

A hundred and fifty miles an hour isn't exactly walking, mister.

MARK:

Now, don't get impertinent! I chartered this special plane for speed, you understand, speed, not to just go dawdling along through the air!

SAM:

I'll tell him about it when he comes in.

MARK:

Now-- now, look here! Do you realize who you're talking to?

SAM:

Look, mister. I'll be the first to admit you're a big shot, but when you're bucking a fifty-mile wind, and still making a hundred and fifty miles an hour, believe me, that's pretty good!

MARK:

(GRUMBLES)

SAM:

Now, why don't you go back in the cabin and sit down and enjoy yourself, like a good fellow?

MARK:

(SPLUTTERING) Now-- now look here! You can't tell me what to do! You can't tell--

LONA:

(FAR BACK IN THE CABIN) Mark! Mark! Come here, Mark! Mark, I'm talking to you!

MARK:

(EVERY TIME SHE TALKS TO HIM, HE CRAWLS) Uh... coming, darling! (RECEDING, AS HE RUSHES TO HER) Coming!

SFX:

CABIN DOOR OF PLANE OPENING, BACK

LONA:

(FAR BACK) Oh, for pete's sake, Mark, where've you been? Do I have to split a lung every time I wanna talk to you?

MARK:

(BACK) All right, darling, all right! I'm here!

SFX:

CLOSING CABIN DOOR, BACK

(THE PASSENGERS' CONVERSATION OCCURS UNDER SAM'S LINES)

 

SAM:

(INTO HIS COMMUNICATIONS MIKE) NC-19 calling Glendale... NC-19 calling Glendale...

LONA:

(FAR BACK) Did you tell him to hurry up?

MARK:

(FAR BACK) Yes, yes. Everything taken care of!

LONA:

That's what you say! I'm sick o' this! I wanna get home!

SAM:

Hello, Joe. How is it?

MARK:

Well, we'll be there in two hours.

SAM:

Yeah? Well, the farmers like it...

LONA:

That's what you say! You said we had plenty of Scotch, too!

MARK:

Well, darling, I thought--

LONA:

Oh, you make me tired!

SAM:

Huh? Oh, yeah. Everything's normal here.

LONA:

I don't know what I went on this trip for, anyway.

SAM:

Listen. (HOLDS OUT COMMUNICATIONS MIKE, SO CONTROL TOWER CAN HEAR THE SQUABBLING PASSENGERS)

MARK:

Well, for publicity.

LONA:

(BACK) Publicity! Publicity! I can sit in my back yard and get publicity!

SAM:

Yeah, and that's only two of 'em.

MARK:

Oh, Lona, darling!

LONA:

Don't "Lona darling" me!

SAM:

When the third guy starts in-- boy!

LONA:

Where can I get a drink? What are you good for, anyway?

SAM:

Okay, tell him to get the studio brass band ready. We'll be settin' down in a couple of hours.

MARK:

Now, look here. If not for me, where would you be?

LONA:

You tell me!

SAM:

Okay.

MARK:

Everybody in Hollywood knows!

SAM:

NC-19 signing off.

LONA:

Everybody? Who's everybody?

SFX:

AIRPLANE ENGINE CONTINUES, UNDER

(FADE UP ON THE SQUABBLING PASSENGERS)

 

LONA:

You heard what I said! How many times do I have to say it? You heard me the first time! If not for me being in it, that picture would stink so loud the only way anyone could go see it would be with one of those gas things on their face!

MARK:

Oh, but, darling, be reasonable! Any picture that nets three hundred thousand dollars the first week--

LONA:

Because I'm in it, that's why! Because I am in it! Isn't that right, Bob?

BOB:

Huh? What did you say?

LONA:

Oh, for pete's sake! Take your nose outta that Racing Form, and listen to me, willya?

BOB:

Listen yourself, beautiful. I'm busy.

LONA:

Mark, you tell me. How long do I have to put up with this lily imitation of a louse?

MARK:

Now, Lona, darling, I...

BOB:

It's all right, Mark; it's all right! I can take it, for a thousand a week!

LONA:

Mark, are you gonna let him talk to me like that?

MARK:

Well, he-- he hasn't said anything.

BOB:

She's reading my mind.

LONA:

Why, you two-bit little fourflusher! Lemme tell you--

BOB:

What do you mean, fourflusher? Why, if not for me shoving your name in every newspaper in the country, you'd be back in the laundry!

LONA:

Mark! Mark, did you hear that?

MARK:

Now, Bob, watch yourself! After all--

BOB:

You keep out of this!

LONA:

Fire him! Fire him!

BOB:

Yeah, sure, fire me! Go on! So I'll go to work for Warner's tomorrow!

LONA:

Ooh, fire him!

BOB:

Yeah, fire me!

LONA:

Yeah, I said it!

BOB:

Then I'll have some decent pictures to go to town on instead o' this baby's turkeys!

LONA:

Turkeys?!

MARK:

Now, Bob, don't go too far! After all--

LONA:

Did you hear him? My pictures, turkeys! Three hundred thousand dollars the first week, and you--

BOB:

Why? Ask me why! Exploitation, that's it. Uh, why, without my publicity, you wouldn't be back in the laundry, you'd be in it!

LONA:

(SEETHING WITH RAGE) Oh, you-- you little squirt, you! I'll scratch your eyes out!

BOB:

You lay a hand on me, I'll slap you down!

LONA:

Mark! Mark, do something!

MARK:

(TO BOB) You're fired! You hear me, Bob? Fired!

BOB:

Why, you big bag of wind, who do you think you're firing?

LONA:

Mark, throw him out!

BOB:

Why, I'll go to J.B., and I'll have him cut your heart out!

MARK:

Fired, I tell you!

LONA:

Out on your ear!

BOB:

You're not a producer! You're a fugitive from the laundry she used to work in!

LONA:

Blacklist him, Mark! Have him blacklisted! (SEETHES)

BOB:

Metro, Zanuck, Wanger-- Why, I can walk into a dozen jobs, tomorrow morning!

MARK:

I'll run you out of Hollywood!

LONA:

You? You'll starve to death, and I'll kick you in the face! You won't get another job in Hollywood if I have to--

SFX:

PLANE ZOOMS UP SUDDENLY

(PASSENGERS REACT IN FRIGHT)

 

MARK:

That crazy pilot!

BOB:

What's he doing?

LONA:

Well, tell him to stop!

SFX:

AIRPLANE STRAIGHTENS OUT ... MOTOR ROAR DOWN, AND CONTINUES, UNDER

MARK:

Crazy fool! Climbing like that!

LONA:

Well, don't stand there! Go on and give him the devil!

MARK:

Hm? Oh. Uh, all right, all right. I'm-- I'm going. (RECEDING AS HE HEADS FOR COCKPIT) All right.

SFX:

CABIN DOOR OPENS, BACK

MARK:

(BACK) Hey, you! Pilot! You crazy?

SAM:

(BACK) It's all right, mister. Had to climb. Storm ahead.

MARK:

(BACK) Who cares about the storm? You get us home, understand?

SAM:

(BACK) Okay, you're payin' for it. Here. Message for you. Came over the radio.

MARK:

(BACK) All right, all right. Hand it over.

LONA:

(UP) What is it, Mark? For me?

SFX:

CABIN DOOR CLOSES, FAR BACK

MARK:

(APPROACHING, AS HE RETURNS TO CABIN) No. Me. (QUIETLY) Yeah, me...

BOB:

What's up, huh?

LONA:

Mark, what's the matter with you? Mouth open like a fish. Read it!

MARK:

(OBVIOUSLY VERY SHAKEN) It... It says that John Webster killed himself.

BOB:

Say!

LONA:

You... You're kidding...

MARK:

See for yourself.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF PAPER

LONA:

(READS QUICKLY) John Webster, young novellist, committed suicide, one P.M.

BOB:

I never thought he'd do it...

MARK:

I... I didn't either... Killing himself, just because we changed...

BOB:

Yeah...

LONA:

(LAUGHS SOFTLY)

BOB:

You... You laughing?

LONA:

(CHUCKLING) Sure, why not?

MARK:

Now, Lona, darling, after all--

LONA:

(HARSHLY) After all, what? Two wise guys, and neither one of you's got as many brains as the... the left side o' my Pekingese!

BOB:

Okay, let's have it.

LONA:

You. You, the great Mr. Crane, the publicity wonder-boy!

BOB:

Cut out the needles, willya, and let's have it!

MARK:

Yes, Lona. What are you getting at?

LONA:

So he's dead. So instead of looking down your noses, you two oughtta be standing on your heads!

MARK:

Wha--?

BOB:

Ehh, she's nuts!

LONA:

Am I? The picture getting national release this week, and the sap who writes the words blows his brains out, and I'm supposed to cry, huh?

BOB:

Say! I get it!

LONA:

Call out the Marines.

MARK:

Lona, you-- you mean that now he can't bother us with an injunction?

LONA:

Who's thinking about injunctions? He couldn't stop the picture anyway. You said yourself he signed away all the rights!

MARK:

Then what--?

LONA:

Oh, you tell him, Bob!

BOB:

It's terrific! Mark, don't you get it?

MARK:

Huh?

BOB:

So we had the premiere in Chicago. So all right, it stunk!

LONA:

Don't you start in that again, or I'll--

BOB:

Okay, okay. It wasn't your fault. The director was no good. The film was no good. The cutters got the story loused up. The critics all had bellyaches.

MARK:

But I--

BOB:

What's the difference what the reason was? The picture was a floperoo. Laid eggs all the way up and down State Street!

MARK:

Well, get to the point!

BOB:

I've passed it already! Don't you get it? The author of the novel we made the film out of, blows his top! Why? Ask me. Why?

MARK:

I don't have to ask you. The kid told me yesterday, right in the hotel. Ruined his life-work, he said.

BOB:

Yeah, that's what he said. But it won't be what I'll say.

MARK:

Huh? Wha--? Who?

LONA:

Oh, for Pete's sake, Mark, shut your mouth, and listen to the guy! For the first time in a year, he's got a good idea! My idea!

BOB:

That's what you think! Now, listen, Mark, with this angle, we can turn the picture into a gold mine!

MARK:

Well, say it, say it!

LONA:

I'll say it! The reason that crazy kid killed himself was because the picture was so terrific, he was done, finished!

BOB:

Yeah, yeah, his life-work comes to life on the silver screen, so the boy genius bows out! Don't ya get it?

MARK:

But... But that isn't true.

LONA:

Oh, for the love o'...

MARK:

I mean, who'll believe you? It's-- it's crazy!

BOB:

Will ya listen to the guy, Lona? Crazy!

MARK:

Sure, crazy! A story like that, why, no newspaper'd believe it!

BOB:

Oh, won't they? How 'bout if you have a letter the kid wrote you just before he, you know, did it?

LONA:

Hey, that's all right.

MARK:

But he didn't write me any such letter.

BOB:

Oh, for... Lona, you tell him!

LONA:

Mark, what're you tryin' to do, give an imitation o' Dopey? Did the sappy kid have to write a letter? Aren't there plenty o' guys you got at the studio, who'll write you a letter like that for ten bucks?

BOB:

Yeah, and give you five change?

LONA:

Aren't there?

MARK:

(FINALLY GETS IT) Oh!

BOB:

Oh is right! Why, the kid's bumping himself off is a natural!

LONA:

And who thought of it first? You tell me!

SFX:

LOUD BURST OF THUNDER

(ALL CRY OUT IN FRIGHT)

 

MARK:

Storm!

BOB:

What kind of a screwy pilot we got?

SFX:

MORE THUNDER

LONA:

Mark, don't stand there! Do something!

MARK:

All right, all right. (RECEDING, AS HE HEADS FOR COCKPIT) I'll talk to him.

SFX:

MORE THUNDER

LONA:

Bob! So dark... The lights!

BOB:

(FEELING AROUND) Can't find the switch! (FINDS IT) Oh. There. (TURNS IT ON)

SFX:

THUNDER AGAIN

LONA:

(UP) Mark! Mark, tell him to get us out of this!

BOB:

Gee, is it dark out there!

LONA:

You two fat-heads... I told you I didn't wanna go to Chicago! (UP) Mark! Mark, tell him to get us out of the storm! Mark, you hear me? Mark!!!

SFX:

THUNDER AGAIN

BOB:

I'll go see.

LONA:

No, don't leave me!

BOB:

Okay, okay...

SFX:

ENGINES ROAR AS AIRPLANE STARTS CLIMBING

BOB:

Listen! We're climbing!

LONA:

Climbing? So what does that mean?

BOB:

He's taking us above the storm!

SFX:

THUNDER, BACK A LITTLE

LONA:

Well, why doesn't he hurry? Oh, I hate thunder... (UP) Mark!

SFX:

THUNDER, BACK FURTHER

MARK:

(APPROACHING, AS HE RETURNS TO CABIN) It's all right, darling. It's all right.

LONA:

What's all right? What?

MARK:

He's getting us up over the top of the storm.

BOB:

Yeah, like I told you.

LONA:

Well, what'd the buzzard get us into this for in the first place? Mark, if you don't get him fired, I'll--

SFX:

THUNDER, FAR, FAR BACK

MARK:

There we are. In the light again.

BOB:

Will you look at those clouds down there!

LONA:

So who cares? Ooh, what I'd give for a Scotch...

MARK:

We'll be home soon.

BOB:

You can't even see the ground! Like a carpet from up here...

LONA:

Oh, will you shut up? Who cares about clouds?

BOB:

Listen, toots-en-frootz, who's talking to you?

LONA:

Mark, did you hear what he said to me?

MARK:

Now, now, now, now, don't start again, the two of you... I've had all I can stand, these three days.

LONA:

You've had? Will ya listen to the guy! Who was pulled and pushed around by everyone from the Cicero Fan Club Number One to those flop-eared exhibitors, to those lousy reporters, to--

BOB:

Hey! Hey! Wait a minute!

LONA:

Huh?

MARK:

Whassamatter?

BOB:

I got an idea! Listen... That screwy author... When we land, I'll have a wire sent. We'll have the body sent to the coast, and bury him at the studio's expense!

MARK:

Huh?

BOB:

Yeah, sort of a state funeral for the author of Ilona Douglas' greatest vehicle!

LONA:

Say, that's all right!

MARK:

I dunno. Maybe they won't--

BOB:

Who won't? The kid didn't have anybody, so we'll do the honours, see? Special car, all across the country... Make every news service in the world!

MARK:

I don't know. I don't know. Uh, morbid. You know, morbid. I dunno...

SFX:

ENGINES OUT

LONA:

That's the trouble! You don't know! The first good idea this lily's had since--

BOB:

Now, wait a minute--

LONA:

And you start getting artistic or something! Well, let me tell you that-- Hey... Hey, what's the matter with you? Mark, I'm talking to you.

MARK:

(TENSE) Listen!

LONA:

Hm?

BOB:

What the...?

MARK:

Bob... You...?

LONA:

What's the matter with you two?

BOB:

Engines!

LONA:

Hm?

MARK:

The engine! It's stopped!

LONA:

So what? W-- we're landing! What'sa matter with you two saps? He shut off the engine because we're landing!

MARK:

No...

BOB:

(UP, STARTING TO PANIC) Pilot! (RECEDING, AS HE RUSHES TO COCKPIT) Pilot! Pilot, what's the matter? (FAR BACK) Pilot, what's happened?

SAM:

(FAR BACK) I don't know. I don't!

BOB:

What is it? What's happened?

(BOB & SAM CONTINUE, AD LIB, FAR, FAR BACK, DISCUSSING ENGINE FAILURE. SAM DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE CAUSE IS)

 

LONA:

(ON CUE, THROUGH ABOVE) What is this? Mark, what did he chase off for? What's the matter? We are landing, aren't we? Then, what's there to get so excited about?

MARK:

The engine stopped.

LONA:

Will you stop saying that? So what?

MARK:

We're not due in for an hour yet.

LONA:

Something's wrong! (RECEDING, AS SHE RUSHES TO COCKPIT, STARTING TO PANIC) [X] Pilot! Pilot, what's the matter? Pilot!

MARK:

(THROUGH ABOVE, FROM [X]) Lona! Lona, wait! Lona!

(FAST FADE IN OF BOB AND LONA TALKING A MILE A MINUTE, TO PILOT, OVERLAPPING LINES. THEY ARE SOON JOINED BY MARK)

 

SAM:

Lady! Lady, will you please take it easy?

LONA:

Pilot, why are we landing here? Why are we landing here?

BOB:

What's the big idea? What's going on?

SAM:

Look, I can't answer you--

LONA:

Well, you have to do something! We have to land!

BOB:

What's the matter with the engine? What's happening?

SAM:

Look, I can't answer both o' you at once! Will you please take it easy--

LONA:

Why? Will you tell me, why are we landing here?

SAM:

Wait a minute! Take it easy!

MARK:

No, no, no! Let me talk to him!

SAM:

Will you please try to take it easy!

BOB:

What's going on? Where are we?

LONA:

Well, you don't know!

MARK:

Listen, you! What's the matter? Why doesn't he answer?

SAM:

Shut up!

MARK:

I'm payin' for this! Answer me! What are you up to?

BOB:

Stop yelling at me!

SAM:

Shut up! Shut up, all of you!

MARK:

Answer me, I tell you!

SAM:

(BURSTING WITH FURY) Shut up, I say!!!

(ALL PASSENGERS ARE SHOCKED INTO SILENCE)

 

SAM:

(TENSE) We're not landing! See? We're not landing!

MARK:

But-- but the engine...

BOB:

It stopped. We-- we must be landing!

MARK:

Of course, we must be landing! What'sa matter with you?

(THE PASSENGERS START ARGUING AGAIN, OVERLAPPING LINES)

 

BOB:

You can't tell me anything like that!

SAM:

(ENRAGED) I said, shut up!!!

(PASSENGERS ARE SHOCKED INTO SILENCE)

 

MARK:

(A FEEBLE PROTEST) You can't talk to her that way.

LONA:

Oh, sock him.

BOB:

Who do you think you're talking to?

SAM:

(TENSELY) You fools, will you shut up?! Look! (NO RESPONSE) Look. Look, I tell you!

MARK:

(PAUSE. NERVOUSLY) Uh... At what?

SAM:

The indicator! Air-speed indicator!

BOB:

Huh?

SAM:

We're not falling!

LONA:

Mark, what's he saying?

SAM:

Listen! I'm telling you! We're not falling! Engine's dead, and we're not falling! (THEY STARE AT HIM) You fools! What are you lookin' at me like that for? Don't you understand? We're hanging... Just hanging in the air!

MUSIC:

DRAMATIC, TENSE TRANSITION

MARK:

(SOFTLY, DAZEDLY) Hanging... Air...

LONA:

(SOFTLY, SLOWLY, TENSELY) You dirty-faced buzzard, what're you tryin' to pull? (UP, ALMOST SHRIEKING) What're you tryin' to pull?!

SAM:

(DEEP IN THOUGHT) Prop dead. Just hanging in air...

MARK:

Hanging... Air...

LONA:

(DOWN AGAIN, TENSELY) Listen, the three of you. I've been around. They've pulled all kinds o' fancy gags on me. (BUILDING) Well, if this is a trick, I don't like it! Ya hear me? I don't like it! Now, get me down outta here!

BOB:

(SIGHS, THEN FAINTS)

SFX:

BODY THUD

LONA:

Bob! (PAUSE. DAZED WHISPER) He... He passed out!

SAM:

(QUIET) Come on, back in the cabin. Better sit down. Mr. Markham, you too.

LONA:

Bob... He...

SAM:

He'll be all right. Come on.

MARK:

(DAZEDLY) Hanging... In air...

LONA:

This is a gag, isn't it? Tell me! Isn't it? We're moving! We've got to be moving! (CLUTCHING SAM'S ARM) Talk, blast you! Talk!!!

SAM:

(IN PAIN) Lady, my arm! Cut it out, willya?

LONA:

Then tell me! What's happening?! What?! Bob passed out. Mark lookin' like... His mouth... he-- You've got to talk! You've got to tell me! We are moving, aren't we?

SAM:

No.

LONA:

You liar! You dirty liar! We are! We are!

SAM:

(TENSELY) Stop it! Look! Down there!

LONA:

You dirty liar, you're trying to scare me!

SAM:

Look! See? On the clouds down there!

LONA:

Hm?

SAM:

Our shadow... standing still! We're not moving! Get it through your head!

LONA:

(GASP)

SAM:

We're hanging in space, I tell you!

LONA:

(BEGINS TO MOAN. MOAN BUILDS UNTIL SHE BURSTS INTO HYSTERICAL TEARS)

MUSIC:

TENSE TRANSITIONAL

BOB:

(WEAKLY) I-- I-- I'm all right. Just-- just leave me alone.

SAM:

You hit your head when you...

BOB:

(SHARPLY) Leave me alone, I tell you! (TEARFUL) What're you all sitting around looking at me for? I passed out. All right. You're-- you're all just as scared as I am! You know it! You are! You, Mark, you are scared. Your-- your face green... Answer me! You are scared, aren't you?

MARK:

(PAUSE. DAZEDLY, SLOWLY) Hanging... In air...

BOB:

(TEARFUL) There, you see? Off his nut! You, Lona! You're scared too, aren't you?

LONA:

(QUIETLY) Why don't you shut up...

BOB:

Pilot! Pilot! You! (TEARFUL) You're scared green! You're scared too, aren't you? Not me alone. You! You! Answer me! You!

SAM:

(QUIETLY GRIM) Maybe I'd better shut you up...

BOB:

(PITIFULLY, SOBBING) I am scared... I'm scared... Scared...

LONA:

(ROUGHLY SOOTHING, SHOWING HER HUMANITY FOR THE FIRST TIME) All right, Bob. All right...

BOB:

(SOBBING) Lona, I-- I don't wanna di...

LONA:

(GENTLY RUBBING HIS BACK) All right now, all right. Don't talk... Bury your head... (DRAWS HIM CLOSER, SO HIS HEAD IS ON HER SHOULDER) Yeah, that's right...

(FROM HERE ONWARD, THE SCENE IS PLAYED VERY QUIETLY AND LOW-KEY)

 

BOB:

(CONTINUES CRYING SOFTLY, UNDER)

LONA:

(PAUSE) Pilot? (REALIZES. GENTLY) Uh, Sam...?

SAM:

Yeah?

LONA:

What time is it?

SAM:

Five...

LONA:

The radio...?

SAM:

What's the use? Tried it a hundred times. Dead as... as...

LONA:

We're...going to be...

BOB:

(MOANS AND SOBS IN FEAR, UNDER)

LONA:

(GENTLY RUBBING HIS BACK) Don't listen to what we're talking about, Bob. Just try... not to think.

BOB:

(CRIES SOFTLY, UNDER, GETTING GRADUALLY SOFTER, AS HE FALLS ASLEEP)

LONA:

(PAUSE) Sam...?

SAM:

Yeah?

LONA:

How long have we been...?

SAM:

An hour...

LONA:

Only that?

SAM:

Seems like a million, but... watch says only an hour...

LONA:

Mark...? Mark, listen... (QUIET DESPERATION) Mark, I'm talking to you!

MARK:

(BACK, DAZEDLY) Hanging... Air...

LONA:

(PAUSE) I... I wish I was like he is...

SAM:

Yeah...

LONA:

So scared, he... can't see or hear... or think. (NOTICES BOB'S ASLEEP) Look...

SAM:

Huh?

LONA:

He's gone to sleep. (GESTURES WITH HER HEAD) Bob...

SAM:

(SOFTLY) Yeah...

LONA:

Wore himself out crying... Funny, huh?

SAM:

Nothin's funny...

LONA:

I guess not... But I got funny thoughts in my head...

SAM:

(SOFTLY) What?

LONA:

(PAUSE) A minute ago, I was thinking about when I was a kid... (PAUSE) You wanna hear about when I was a kid?

SAM:

(SOFTLY) Why not?

LONA:

Bob, here, and all the rest o' the publicity guys have wrote-- written-- so much junk about me being the only daughter of, you know, poor but respectable small-town people... that I almost got to thinking it was true... Yeah. Would you believe it; I paid some wise-guy over on Sunset Boulevard a thousand bucks for a coat-of-arms of the family to hang up in the hall... You know, one o' those fancy shields with lions crawling all over it and things... It should'a had a couple o' beer bottles on it instead o' lions... You know?... (PAUSE) You wanna know my real name? (NO ANSWER) Oh, what's the difference? Beer bottles... Yeah, beer bottles and the smell o' the laundry comin' up the air shaft, and a lotta dirt... That's what I remember from when I was a kid... (NO ANSWER. PAUSE) Sam...?

SAM:

(SOFTLY) Yeah?

LONA:

(PAUSE) I just wanted to hear you talk... (SOTTO) What was I talking about? Oh, yeah... I was thinking o' something funny about when I was a kid... When it was hot at night, I used to lie on my back on the roof... look at the clouds, and... make off I was just sort of hanging in the air... (PAUSE) Honest, Sam... I'd want that... Funny now, hm?

SAM:

(DEEP IN THOUGHT) Gravity...

LONA:

What?

SAM:

(BACK TO REALITY) Did I say something?

LONA:

You said, "Gravity." Why?

SAM:

I was thinking...

LONA:

What?

SAM:

Gravity's pulling us down.

LONA:

Well?

SAM:

I was thinking of... what's pulling us up?

LONA:

There aren't any answers.

SAM:

No?

LONA:

No. No answers. (PAUSE) When I was that kid, I found answers. Yeah, how to get along... how to get out of that smell and dirt... Real answers. They took me a long way. Five thousand a week... five-year contract... no options. I did all right with my answers. But... Here's one answer I haven't got. Because there isn't any answer.

SAM:

Maybe there is...

LONA:

Yeah?

SAM:

Yeah...

LONA:

You listened to me... S'pposing I listen to you...

SAM:

Oh, I-- I dunno how to talk...

LONA:

You just... go ahead...

SAM:

For a whole hour, I've been tryin' to figure things out...

LONA:

So?

SAM:

There isn't any real answer. I mean, that adds up like a column of figures on a slide-rule when you're-- you're tryin' to figure out the stress on a wing. Nothing like that... But a kinda screwy idea's come to me, of-- (DISMISSIVE) Ehh, why talk about it...?

LONA:

Go on...

SAM:

I'm just a bozo. Ever since I've been able to stand on my own feet, everything's got to be able to add up, or it just doesn't mean anything to me... But, when I was a kid...

LONA:

Well?

SAM:

Well, when I was a kid, I really had the-- well, like you said-- the poor but respectable parents. You know the kind. They... they believed in somebody up there, and somebody down below, and good and evil... and all the rest of it. (PAUSE) Funny, you thinkin' about when you were a kid... and me thinkin' the same thing...

LONA:

You said you had the answers...

SAM:

Yeah. (STARTS SLOWLY, BUILDING IN QUIET INTENSITY) It's like this... I heard the three o' you talkin' all the way from the Coast to Chicago, and now back again. Talkin' about nothin' but yourselves, each one o' ya. Nothin' meaning anything but yourselves... (PAUSE) If we weren't like this up here, I know I wouldn't be able to say this, but-- Why not say it? You. You makin' more money in a week than the average guy with a family sweats out his insides for in a year. But instead o' the money makin' you understand anything... it's made you understand less than a blind kid walkin' in the dark! Everything's for you. The world's just a big movie screen. Everybody's in it, just there to sit up and look at you. Everything's for you. Even when they're dead, they're for you! Yeah, I heard. Somebody wrote a book, and you bought it and made a picture out of it, and maybe it was an honest book, but you didn't buy it to be honest. You bought it to make dough, so the kid blew his brains out. And even dead, he couldn't get away from you. Yeah, you were gonna use his dead body to make you more money! Yeah, dead or alive, nothing means anything to you! There's no world but your screwy world. Everybody all over the world can crawl in the ground, hidin' from bombs... can be starved, and watch their kids starve... and die on barbed wire, fightin' for somethin' they don't know much about, and drown in the sea, and it don't mean anything to you! None of it! As long as each of you can hold onto what you got! Yeah, the three of you, actin' as if you weren't made o' the same flesh and bone as the rest of us! As if makin' a lotta money, and seein' your name in the paper a lot, and gettin' a lot of applause, took you right off the earth! (PAUSE. SLOWLY) Well... Maybe something or somebody... decided you weren't fit for the earth... Maybe...

LONA:

(PAUSE. SOFTLY) Maybe...

SAM:

You-- You cryin'?

LONA:

(CHOKED UP) No.

SAM:

(SIMPLY) You asked me. I told you.

LONA:

(PAUSE. SLOWLY) I was in a picture once... The girl got in a jam. She-- she didn't know how to pray, but she just... She just started to pray... That was in a picture... This is real, isn't it?

SAM:

Yeah...

LONA:

If anybody told me, a couple of hours ago, that all this-- Mark, sitting there out of his head... Bob... Me, sitting here, listening to the kind o' thing you said...

SAM:

(GENTLY) You asked me. I told you...

LONA:

Yeah. You told me... It was a lousy trick, wasn't it?

SAM:

What?

LONA:

About that kid who died... I'm sorry about that... Just thinking about it, I... I'm sorry.

SFX:

AIRPLANE MOTOR SUDDENLY STARTS AGAIN ... CONTINUES, UNDER

(LONA AND SAM BOTH CRY OUT IN SURPRISE)

 

SAM:

The engine!

LONA:

We've started again!

SFX:

PLANE GOES INTO A DIVE, UNDER

SAM:

We're in a dive! (RECEDING AS HE RUSHES TO COCKPIT) Got to get it!

LONA:

Mark! Bob! We're moving again! Mark! Bob!

SFX:

PLANE COMES OUT OF DIVE, AND LEVELS OFF ... ENGINE CONTINUES, UNDER

SAM:

(BACK, CALLING) It's all right! Everything's all right!

LONA:

Mark! Bob! Wake up! Snap out of it! Do you hear? Everything's all right!

MUSIC:

SLIGHTLY WEARY, VAGUELY OMINOUS TRANSITION

SFX:

FADE IN OF AIRPLANE MOVING ALONG AT NORMAL SPEED, UNDER

MARK:

All right. All right. So it's settled. All right.

BOB:

Sure, it's settled! I know my publicity. A thing like this isn't good; it's bad!

MARK:

I'm not arguing with you. All right.

BOB:

Spread a screwy thing like this, and every reporter in the country would hold his nose! It's too screwy, that's all!

MARK:

For heaven's sake, will you stop talking about it? For the last hour, my-- M-- my head's started to go around! It-- it's forgotten. Finished. So, whatever it was, we'll-- we'll forget it.

BOB:

Wait! The pilot! Did you talk to him?

MARK:

Sure, sure. He won't talk. He wants to eat, don't he? So... he won't talk.

LONA:

(SLOWLY) You've got everything fixed, huh?

BOB:

Well! The prima-donna's talking again!

MARK:

Now, Lona, darling, you understand. Nobody's gonna know about this. Like-- like Bob says, crazy publicity is bad publicity, and-- and-- and... Well, this all was crazy. Wasn't it?

BOB:

I'll say! Look! We're over the airport!

MARK:

Good! Good! Drink. Do I need a drink!

BOB:

A bathtub full! I'm gonna swim in it!

MARK:

A terrible experience. Terrible, but all's well that ends well, eh, Lona? A terrible experience, but now, finished. Everything's just the same, eh Lona? Everything's just the same.

LONA:

(IN CLOSE. SLOWLY) I wonder...

SFX:

AIRPLANE SOUND UP SLIGHTLY, AS A TRANSITION, THEN DOWN, AND CONTINUING, UNDER

SAM:

(INTO COMMUNICATIONS RADIO) NC-19 coming in. NC-19 coming in... Hello, Joe... Yeah, had a little trouble, a while back... Yeah, uh... engine trouble... Yeah, everything's back to normal now... Yeah, everybody okay... (SOFTER) Everything just the same... (IN CLOSE) I wonder...

MUSIC:

CURTAIN

ANNCR:

You have just heard Miss Gale Page and Mr. Hans Max, with Lou Merrill and Theodore Von Eltz, in "Special to Hollywood", written and directed by Arch Oboler. The original music was composed by Gordon Jenkins. And the orchestra was conducted by Jack Meekin. Sound by Jack Snell and Art Fulton. Engineer, Mischa Peltz.

Next week, we will bring you a new play, in the course of which, the city of Chicago will be applauded, beaten, and fondly dissected. The program notes state that, since Mr. Oboler was born and schooled in the city by Lake Michigan, he feels that he has a native son's right to enjoy, with you, this very personal investigation into the people, the city administration, the important buildings, the culture activities and so forth... and very "and so forth" of the midwestern metropolis. The program notes end with this very hasty author's note: "The play 'My Chicago' is written purely in fun." This will be the sixteenth in a special series of plays, written, produced, and directed for the Mutual Broadcasting System, by Arch Oboler.