MUSIC:

"ON STAGE" THEME UP, THEN PAUSE FOR:

ANNCR:

Cathy and Elliott Lewis - On Stage.

MUSIC:

"ON STAGE" THEME SWELLS, AND CONTINUES UNDER

ANNCR:

Cathy Lewis. Elliott Lewis. Two of the most distinguished names in Radio. Appearing each week, in their own theatre. Starring in a repertory of transcribed stories of their own, and your, choosing. Radio's foremost players in Radio's foremost plays.

Ladies and gentlemen, Elliott Lewis.

MUSIC:

THEME OUT

ELLIOTT:

Good evening. May I present my wife, Cathy.

CATHY:

Good evening. In the six months that Elliott and I have been doing "On Stage", we've been very lucky in the kind of stories that have been made available to us.

ELLIOTT:

Somebody said once, that an artist is as good as his tools. A painter needs paint and pallette; a musician needs instruments.

CATHY:

A piano-player without a piano is not easy to identify.

ELLIOTT:

And two actors without a script, especially on radio, are not likely to be very entertaining.

CATHY:

Since this program started, we've been delighted to play the stories of E. Jack Neuman, Shirley Gordon, Richard Chandlee, Antony Ellis, Walter Newman, Shelby Gordon, and many others.

ELLIOTT:

And we've been even more pleased that you've liked these fine craftsmen, and have remarked the same to us in your letters. Shirley and E. Jack especially.

CATHY:

Tonight, we add a new author. The young man's name is Thonnis Calhoun. His home is in Galveston, Texas, and this is his first radio script.

ELLIOTT:

And it's called... "Canary Yellow".

MUSIC:

FLUTTERY BIRD-LIKE AND PLAYFUL, THEN OUT

SFX:

FOOTSTEPS ... CLICK OF RADIO BEING TURNED ON

SFX:

STATIC, AS RADIO IS TUNED TO A TINNY OLD SONG

SFX:

STATIC, AS RADIO IS TUNED TO A QUIZ SHOW

SFX:

STATIC, AS RADIO IS TUNED TO FOSTER'S SHOW

FOSTER:

(FILTER) This is your New York reporter, Arthur Foster. Now, listen, you good people. Harold Drake, the veteran comic, opened his new show at the Plymouth Theatre tonight, with twenty curtain calls. Count 'em, twenty! This master of sophisticated comedy is as much at home in his new vehicle, as you are in your own beat-up carpet slippers. With a poise and a sparkle and glitter as only you read about, this Drake proves again, actors are BORN, not made.

SFX:

CLICK OF RADIO KNOB

FOSTER:

(FADING OUT) My first exclusive...

SFX:

WALKING ACROSS FLOOR, THEN MIXES A DRINK, UNDER

HAROLD:

(CHUCKLING) I'm uh, Harold Drake, ladies and gentlemen. Don't believe everything my good friend, Foster, says about me. Not everything, that is. He much maligns me. In my case, an actor WAS made, not born. An actor was made through a process of self-preservation, and in spite of a billious yellow canary costume, with a bill, yet.

It all began one spring of a yesteryear, or perhaps even before that.

MUSIC:

SUGGESTIVE OF A FLEDGLING MARCHING, UNDER

HAROLD:

I was not yet out of the Cowboy and Indian stage, and this particular night, was playing on the floor with my little lead soldiers, probably trying to make a liar out of Eugene Field. I didn't hear the beginning of the conversation, but suddenly was aware my father had raised his voice alarmingly. I looked up to see my mother placidly tatting an antimacassar, as my father stared at her from across the room. My father's face was a blotched purple, and the veins in his forehead reminded me of the human anatomy chart I'd seen in the almanac. I could have told him which veins were bulging, but I didn't. I didn't care. Father was not in the mood.

MUSIC:

STORMY BOMBASTIC FINISH

FATHER:

A BIRD???

MOTHER:

(CALMLY) Yes, a bird. He would fly around to the little girl flowers, and uh, and visit.

FATHER:

You mean, WALK.

MOTHER:

Dance, dear. May Fetes are usually held on the grounds of the school, and so, Harold would have to, to flit from flower to flower.

FATHER:

FLIT, DANCE, it's for sissies! Harold's a man like me. Or will be.

MOTHER:

Yes, dear, I know. But now, he's a very young boy, and I don't think the experience would permanently stunt his growth in the right direction.

SFX:

PACING, UNDER

FATHER:

Have ya thought how expensive a costume would be?

MOTHER:

You can afford it, dear. If you can't, I'll take the money from my sugar bowl. You can't tell what talent we may discover in Harold. You know very well your own father read Shelley and Keats with a great deal of feeling.

FATHER:

While us kids did most o' the hoein' and choppin' cotton. No sir! My Harold is not gonna be one o' those "artist" people!

MOTHER:

Miss Stutz thinks it'd be a good thing for him, socially.

FATHER:

Who is Miss Stutz???

MOTHER:

His teacher, dear. You remember Miss Stutz.

FATHER:

I don't. Anyway, I came right outta the hills of Arkansas, the hilly part--

MOTHER:

I know, dear.

FATHER:

I got along without sociability. And so can he.

MOTHER:

These are other times, dear. Teachers nowadays think children should be given a chance to express themselves.

FATHER:

As a flittin' bird, rigged out in crepe paper feathers???

MOTHER:

It's not just the part, dear. It's the confidence he'd gain, performin' before an audience. (SMILING) Why, he might even become an actor. Or a politician.

FATHER:

That's enough said! He'll not flit!

MOTHER:

Sam, you've no right to hold him back, just because of personal prejudice.

FATHER:

What about my position? Every man at the factory would say somethin' like, "Shame about Sam's boy. Got none of his father's ways. Kinda sissified."

MOTHER:

Oh well, what do you care what they say, as long as YOU know the difference.

FATHER:

This foolin' around as a bird may be the difference.

MOTHER:

We've no right to keep him from opportunity, Sam Drake. And I intend to see that the boy gets his chance. Besides, there are other little boys in the dance, and I have to face their mothers.

FATHER:

I never knew my wife was a bleatin' sheep, who'd jump fences.

MOTHER:

I am a mother who looks out for her son's welfare, even if his father does not.

FATHER:

(GROWLS TO HIMSELF)

SFX:

PACES SOME MORE, UNDER

FATHER:

What kind of a bird does this Miss Stutz want him to be?

MOTHER:

A yellow bird. A canary.

FATHER:

A CANARY??? No! I forbid it! I forbid it!

MOTHER:

Canaries are beautiful birds, dear.

FATHER:

A tame, hothouse bird with no spirit. Not a crow or a Blue Jay, or one with some dignity, a CANARY?! Never!

MUSIC:

SWARMING, PECKING, UNDER

FATHER:

Never!

MUSIC:

QUIETER, MORE CALM AND TWITTERING, WITH RUSTLING OF CREPE PAPER FEATHERS, UNDER

HAROLD:

But not even my father was able to get through the embattlements of the Ladies May Fete Planning Committee. And a canary, I was to be. During the next week, my father was a bitter man. He was practically a defeated man. Why, he even sulked at meals.

MUSIC:

OUT

SFX:

"DINNER TABLE" AMBIENCE, UNDER

MOTHER:

Everyone's through but you, dear. You haven't eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive.

FATHER:

(GROANS SADLY) I've lost my appetite. (PAUSE) What's for dessert?

MOTHER:

Your favourite, dear.

MUSIC:

SLY BIRDLIKE, UNDER

HAROLD:

He knew very well there was another berry cobbler. Another of my mother's bribes, to keep him in a good humour. Later that night, she asked him, as he pretended to read... I say, "pretended"...

MUSIC:

OUT

MOTHER:

Dear... When are you going to work on my cedar chest? You've not touched it for days.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF NEWSPAPER

FATHER:

Don't feel like it. I just don't feel like it.

MOTHER:

Mm. All right, dear. When you feel up to it.

MUSIC:

SLY BIRDLIKE, UNDER

HAROLD:

My father knew how to make the most of every scene. Even as to eyeing me suspiciously, like I was a small, undernourished rat, about to fall into his glue-pot.

MUSIC:

OUT

SFX:

RUSTLE OF NEWSPAPER

FATHER:

Harold! If I thought you were happy about this, I'd take a limb to ya!

YOUNG H:

Happy? Papa, I'm scared! I'm shaking.

MUSIC:

SCARED BIRDLIKE, UNDER

HAROLD:

And scared, I was. Here was Father, always threatening to take my pants down and cane me, and my mother taking them down to try on my costume. I was caught between two parents. I was being grown up, fast. It was goodbye to my childhood, and perhaps the muskets of my little lead soldiers were molding in hand.

MUSIC:

OUT

HAROLD:

At any rate, one noon before the big debut, Father took his lunch sack, and wandered over to his friend's bench.

SFX:

"WOODSHOP" AMBIENCE, UNDER

SFX:

FATHER WALKING TO WORKBENCH

FATHER:

Fortescue? Let's eat outside today. Fine day!

SFX:

MACHINE TURNED OFF, MOTOR WHIRRS TO A STOP

FORTESC:

(WEARY) Oh, hello, Sam. Sure. Lemme get my lunch, here.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF PAPER BAG

SFX:

THEY WALK ALONG TOGETHER

FATHER:

You look, uh, sorta disspirited.

FORTESC:

(SIGHS) I am. Ya know, home life can get to the place where it rubs off on a man.

FATHER:

It sure can. Just plumb rub off.

FORTESC:

Hm. I sometimes wonder if it's all worth it.

FATHER:

I know what ya mean.

SFX:

DOOR OPENS ... THEY STEP THROUGH

FATHER:

I mean, about wonderin' if it's worth it.

FORTESC:

Yeah.

SFX:

DOOR CLOSES ... THEY WALK ON DIRT PATH, UNDER

FORTESC:

Women get the craziest notions.

FATHER:

Yep.

FORTESC:

Put such importance on little things.

FATHER:

Yep. A thing can be just one way.

FORTESC:

And they always pick the wrong way.

FATHER:

Yep.

FORTESC:

Just obstinate.

FATHER:

And stubborn.

FORTESC:

Mm. Now, for instance... A man likes to think his son will follow in his footsteps.

FATHER:

Or a man's life just don't make any sense.

FORTESC:

That's just the way I feel. (SHAKES HIS HEAD) Cavortin' around in a female costume.

FATHER:

Yeah. Here's a shady spot. Your wife?

SFX:

THEY SIT DOWN ON THE GROUND

FORTESC:

No. My son, Leonard.

FATHER:

What... kind of a... costume?

FORTESC:

Uh... You won't mention this to the other fellas, will ya?

FATHER:

Course not.

FORTESC:

A bird. A Blue Jay.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF PAPER BAG, AS HE TAKES OUT HIS LUNCH

FATHER:

Blue Jay?

FORTESC:

All Miss Stutz's fault. That schoolmarm, she kept tellin' my wife, that May Fete wouldn't be right without a Blue Jay, and that Leonard was the only boy temperamentally suited to it.

FATHER:

Oh?

FORTESC:

I appreciate the honour, and I'm sure Leonard does have MY feeling for the finer things. Still, a... Blue Jay!

FATHER:

Uh... Whadda you think of a canary?

FORTESC:

Well! That's an idea. Why couldn't he be a canary? A little closer to home. Maybe he could! I... Oh, I dunno, though. That's a little sissy for Leonard.

FATHER:

Oh, I wouldn't exactly say it's sissified for anybody.

FORTESC:

Too much for Leonard. I'm sure he'd never consent to it. Not that I would want him to. Heh! I'll bet you're glad Harold wasn't asked.

FATHER:

(PAUSE) He was asked.

FORTESC:

He WAS???

FATHER:

He's gonna be a canary.

FORTESC:

Oh, now... Look, Sam, I didn't mean that a canary's anything to be ashamed of--

FATHER:

I don't think so either. A canary is a refined bird. Sings like a true artist, AND has good manners!

FORTESC:

Why, I- I think so too. Only, I think a Blue Jay is an elegant bird too. I think Leonard'll do fine.

FATHER:

I didn't mean to say Leonard'd be wrong as a Blue Jay.

FORTESC:

And I think Harold'd be a fine canary. Just fine!

SFX:

RUSTLE OF LUNCH BAG

FORTESC:

Fine. Uh, have a piece o' cake, Sam?

FATHER:

Nah, I don't believe so.

FORTESC:

But it's Lady Baltimore. You're favourite.

FATHER:

I don't think so, Fortescue. Uh...

SFX:

STANDING UP

FATHER:

I think I'll take a turn around the plant.

FORTESC:

Well, wait up. I'll go along.

FATHER:

No, if, uh... (FADING, AS HE WALKS AWAY) I- if you don't mind... Fortescue.

FORTESC:

Well, sure. Sure, Sam.

MUSIC:

DOWNCAST BIRDLIKE, UNDER

SFX:

PUTS DOWN TOOLS, AT [X]

HAROLD:

At first, Father was only miffed that Fortescue should think I could not properly flit from flower to flower. Then, he reasoned a different way. He came off his hunger strike, worked on the cedar chest, and when Mother had finished the dishes and had settled herself for her sewing, he put down his tools [X], and came over to her.

MUSIC:

OUT

SFX:

FATHER WALKS TO MOTHER, UNDER

FATHER:

Um... How's the costume comin' on? The, uh, bird costume.

MOTHER:

Oh, very well, dear. I'm thinkin' of a bill that won't fall down over his eyes.

FATHER:

Uh, could I see it? Uh, where's Harold?

SFX:

MOTHER WALKS AWAY

MOTHER:

I'll get it. (FADING SLIGHTLY) He's upstairs at his lessons, I think.

FATHER:

(CALLING) Uh, Harold? Uh, Harold? Come down here, willya?

YOUNG H:

(CALLING, OFF-MIKE) Yes, sir!

SFX:

MOTHER RETURNS

MOTHER:

(APPROACHING) Here it is, Sam. There. How do you like it?

FATHER:

Hold it up, so I can see it.

MUSIC:

TWITTERING BIRDLIKE

SFX:

RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER FEATHERS

MOTHER:

You sew one row of paper points on top of each other.

FATHER:

Yeah? Looks a little flimsy.

MOTHER:

Looks flimsy?

FATHER:

You sure it won't break out at the seams?

MOTHER:

Well, I don't think so.

FATHER:

You better be sure. Harold is pretty much of a boy when it comes to bustin' things out, and we couldn't have that.

MOTHER:

Ah, I suppose we couldn't.

FATHER:

And don't spare the feathers. If ya need some more crepe paper, I'll go out and get ya come more.

MOTHER:

Oh, we've plenty of feathers. Sam, you're takin' an awful lot of interest, aren't you?

SFX:

HAROLD COMES INTO ROOM

YOUNG H:

(APPROACHING) Here I am, Papa.

FATHER:

Uh, Harold? Have you been practisin' your dance, like ya should?

YOUNG H:

I guess so, Papa.

FATHER:

Guess so??? That won't do. Don't you know you'll never get anywhere, in society or anyplace, unless you KNOW what you're about? KNOW a thing, Harold.

YOUNG H:

Yes, Papa.

FATHER:

You've got to know that dance good enough to show up everybody on the field. Do ya?

YOUNG H:

Not everybody, I guess.

FATHER:

All right, then, let's get at it! At it, and at it, until you KNOW you've mastered it.

YOUNG H:

I didn't know you wanted me to do it at all, Papa.

FATHER:

If you're gonna do a thing, you might as well do it RIGHT.

YOUNG H:

Yes, sir.

FATHER:

Now, Bessie... Will the costume fit him?

MOTHER:

Yes, dear. I'm sure it will. Perfectly.

FATHER:

All right. Let's try it on.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER COSTUME

FATHER:

We got a few days yet, to fix it up in case it isn't right.

YOUNG H:

Do I have to NOW, Papa? I've got Geography.

FATHER:

All right now, Harold. You try this on.

SFX:

RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER COSTUME

YOUNG H:

(COMPLAINING) Pop...

MOTHER:

Sam, I've never seen you so concerned over anything you so heartily disapproved of.

FATHER:

Who says I disapprove of it??? We're just not gonna be outdone by a Blue Jay.

MOTHER:

Blue Jay, dear?

FATHER:

A Blue Jay. You climb into that canary suit, Harold, and you be quick about it! I think I can fix that bill... Yes, sir!

MUSIC:

INDUSTRIOUS BIRDLIKE, TO A FINISH

ANNCR:

You are listening to "Cathy and Elliott Lewis - On Stage". Tonight's play: "Canary Yellow".

In the Greek island earthquakes, one-hundred-twenty thousand were left homeless. Over a thousand killed. And more than four-thousand injured. The stricken area is in desperate straits. With the approval of the State Department, the American Red Cross is conducting an appeal for disaster relief contributions. All funds you send to your local Red Cross chapter, earmarked for Greek Relief, will be used solely by the Greek Red Cross, to aid earthquake victims.

MUSIC:

FLUTTERY, OPTIMISIC, BIRDLIKE, TURNING RATHER OMINOUS, UNDER

HAROLD:

If I was scared before, now I was numb with fear. With Father suddenly in favour of my being a canary bird, my parents had put up a solid front against me. I knew I must produce the goods.

MUSIC:

LITTLE CHIRPY, TWITTERY, UNDER

HAROLD:

As the next few days passed, like so many milestones to my execution, I was trained like a prizefighter for his first championship match. As I went through my routine, my father would suddenly, without warning, bellow...

MUSIC:

OUT

FATHER:

SHAKE A LEG, HAROLD! Shake a leg! The honour of the family is on the chopping block! Right on it!

MUSIC:

LITTLE TWITTERY, NERVOUS, THEN SLOW & SLIGHTLY OMINOUS

HAROLD:

Or, when I would lag, he would look up from his work and admonish me roundly.

MUSIC:

OUT

SFX:

DROPS TOOLS

FATHER:

Harold... Do you think a Blue Jay is the equal of a canary?

YOUNG H:

No, sir?

FATHER:

Then SHOW that ya don't. BELIEVE in what you do. Always convince yourself, what you're doing is the most important thing happening in the world.

YOUNG H:

Even me in a paper canary suit???

FATHER:

Certainly! The canary is a noble bird. It comforts old ladies, and it twirps young people into gettin' married.

YOUNG H:

(DOWNCAST) Yes, sir.

FATHER:

(PAUSE) You're not scared, are ya?

YOUNG H:

Y- yes, sir.

FATHER:

You'll never be a politician, if ya don't learn to face people.

YOUNG H:

Don't wanna be a politician.

FATHER:

Actor, then?

YOUNG H:

No!

FATHER:

Whaddaya wanna be?

YOUNG H:

Papa, I don't wanna be a canary in any May Fete.

FATHER:

Harold... Did you know Leonard Fortescue is to be a Blue Jay in this same May Fete?

YOUNG H:

(DOWNCAST) Yes, sir.

FATHER:

Well, that should be enough. You'll not only dance, but you'll make him look (TRYING TO THINK OF THE WORD) l- like a- a- Blue Jay!

YOUNG H:

But what if I should forget, or stub my foot, or my bill falls down over my eyes? Something like that?

FATHER:

(SHAKING FIST AT HIM) I'm warning you... It had just better not!

YOUNG H:

(DOWNCAST) Yes, sir.

FATHER:

(GETTING WORKED UP) Your father is a Foreman, and I gotta have respect from my men! And I can't have respect, if my son makes a fool out of himself by not being able to (SHAKING FIST AT HIM) do a simple little dance! (PAUSE) Do you understand?

YOUNG H:

(VERY DOWNCAST) Yes, sir. Yes sir; I understand.

MUSIC:

TWITTERY, NERVOUS, BUT INEVITABLE, THEN UNDER

HAROLD:

And that was the way it went. My poor father was afraid I would disgrace him. He wasn't alone. I had visions of disgracing myself. The days dragged slowly by. Each one was a new instrument of torture. I was being given a final coaching course under Miss Stutz, the effusive and determined Miss Stutz. Tripping along, ever so lightly, and flapping my wings at the same time, seemed an insurmountable mechanical problem.

MUSIC:

OUT

SFX:

YOUNG HAROLD BOUNCES ALONG, FLAPPING CREPE PAPER WINGS

STUTZ:

Not like a frog, Harold! You don't hop, dear, no. And not like you were playing hopscotch either. It is sprilling. Can't you feel it, dear? You must (SINGSONG) float, float, float and glide on the wings of Spring.

YOUNG H:

But I'm too heavy to float, Miss Stutz.

STUTZ:

Well, of course you can't really float, Harold. But you must give the impression that you are.

YOUNG H:

As long as my feet stay on the ground, I can't believe it myself.

STUTZ:

Please. Don't be so literal, dear. Just gently flap your wings, and- and say to yourself that you're going to visit, oh, a BEAUTIFUL Morning Glory!

YOUNG H:

But Genevieve's got freckles. Lots of 'em. And she don't look like a Morning Glory.

STUTZ:

Your imagination, Harold. You simply must use your imagination a little.

YOUNG H:

(GRUDGINGLY) Yes, m'.

STUTZ:

All righty. Now, (SINGSONG) small, breezy steps... your wings gently waving in the breeze. Start again.

SFX:

HE TRIED AGAIN, FLAPPING WINGS, UNDER

STUTZ:

No, no... Dear, you're throwin' your arms around like a frightened buzzard.

SFX:

OUT

STUTZ:

Uh... You're a canary, dear. You must remember that. And don't sweep the ground with your little wings, either. And you must keep your knees straight. You don't walk on them.

YOUNG H:

Yes, m'.

STUTZ:

Now, start again. Now, pretend that Genevieve is by the water fountain. Are you ready? Go.

SFX:

HE TRIES AGAIN, FLAPPING WINGS

STUTZ:

Y-- Oh, w- watch out, dear!

YOUNG H:

Oh!

SFX:

HE FALLS DOWN

STUTZ:

Oh! Are ya hurt, Harold?

YOUNG H:

(SADLY) No, ma'am. I just tripped.

STUTZ:

Well, I'm afraid you're just a bit clumsy, Harold. You- you've got to learn how NOT to get your feet twisted up. You must be fleet of foot, like Leonard Fortescue.

YOUNG H:

Leonard???

STUTZ:

Why, yes. Yes, he-- He's a very, very gifted dancer! He's as graceful as a gazelle!

YOUNG H:

("I'LL SHOW YOU") I can do anything Leonard can!

STUTZ:

Oh, well, I'm sure you can. Now, let's see you (SINGSONG) flit over to the Morning Glory...

YOUNG H:

("AW SHUT UP") I can do it; I can do it.

SFX:

HE FLITS AROUND, FLAPPING WINGS

MUSIC:

LIKE A BIRD LEARNING TO FLY, WITH ENERGY AND A RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER FEATHERS, THEN UNDER

HAROLD:

And so, I was so thoroughly piqued and humiliated, that there was nothing for me to do but forget my fright, and go in there and fight! Leonard Fortescue was no smarter than me, and I could prove it.

SFX:

ADD RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER FEATHERS, UNDER. OUT AT [X]

HAROLD:

I got that dance down to a last polished wiggle. I even thoroughly convinced myself that pigtailed, [X] freckle-faced Genevieve was a dewy Morning Glory.

STUTZ:

Oh, that's better, Harold! Much, much better! Bravo!

MUSIC:

NOBLE, AS IF ENTERING BATTLE, UNDER

HAROLD:

Finally, the big day came. All the fathers and mothers, dressed in their Sunday best, sat stiffly in the folding chairs which had been set up on the school lawn. Among those beaming, and being over-cordial to their neighbours to hide their anxiety, were my mother and father. My mother seemed happy enough, but my father could not quite hide his agitation. As the sun was just about to set, I started for my dressing room. But not before Father gave me one last word of warning.

MUSIC:

OUT

YOUNG H:

Yes, sir?

FATHER:

Remember, Harold. The family honour is at stake! If you make so much as a bobble, I'll fix you up so you won't be able to sit down for a week!

YOUNG H:

Y- yes, sir.

MOTHER:

But don't frighten him, Sam. (TO YOUNG HAROLD) Just do your best, dear.

YOUNG H:

Yes, m'.

MOTHER:

You run along now, honey.

MUSIC:

BIRDLIKE, PECKING NERVOUSLY, THEN HANGING OMINOUSLY, UNDER

HAROLD:

And before too many minutes had passed, just as the sun was all red and gold, the music for the May Fete began.

MUSIC:

SLIGHTLY OFF-KEY VIOLIN, PLAYING "MELODY IN F", UNDER

HAROLD:

And, with my bill in place so it wouldn't fall down over my eyes, I stood ready to make my debut into the theatre. "An earthly flight among some lovely lady flowers," I kept telling myself. Before I knew it, someone had given me a shove, and I was out on the ground, winging and flitting my way to Genevieve, the beautiful, freckle-faced Morning Glory.

MOTHER:

(SMILING, QUIETLY, TO FATHER) There he comes.

FATHER:

(NERVOUS ANTICIPATION, QUIETLY) Yes. There he comes.

MOTHER:

Doesn't he look sweet?

FATHER:

He's not supposed to look sweet.

MOTHER:

Well...

FATHER:

Sure is trippin' along. I hope he don't trip himself. He's kinda stiff, isn't he?

MOTHER:

Certainly not. He's very graceful.

FATHER:

He is not. Three-hundred and sixty-four days o' the year, he's an awkward boy. You'd think, just for one day, he could pull himself together.

MOTHER:

(WHISPERING) Shh, shh, shh, shh. (SMILING) There he goes to the little Morning Glory.

FATHER:

Oh, I hope he makes it! Look! Here comes Leonard.

MOTHER:

The Blue Jay?

FATHER:

Yep. Hey, he looks much better to me. He's not all feet and neck.

MOTHER:

Seems frightened, to me.

FATHER:

Well, not as much as Harold. I knew I'd be sorry I let him get into this.

MOTHER:

(WHISPERING) Quiet, now. Shhh. Look, Harold's comin' to the Morning Glory. (BEAMING) He makes it! Very graceful, Sam. He's very graceful.

FATHER:

Well, Leonard is better. And after me tellin' Harold he'd get his pants warmed...

MOTHER:

Looks like Leonard's showin' off, to me. Tripping along with complete abandon, not even noticin' where he's going.

FATHER:

Don't you worry about Leonard. I'll never be able to hold up my head in front of Fortescue, much less get any work out of him!

MOTHER:

(WHISPERING) Shhh. Harold is doin' fine. He's just not the exhibitionist Leonard is, and he-- (GASP) Mercy! (GASP) Leonard's beak's fallen down over his eyes! He can't possibly see where he's goin'! He'll never be able to get his hands out of his wings!

FATHER:

He's gonna hit that Geranium, if-- (BEAT) He did.

MOTHER:

Oh, mercy! Both of 'em on the ground, poor dears. I wonder if they're hurt.

FATHER:

Yeah, looks like Leonard knocked hisself out.

MOTHER:

Awww...

FATHER:

That little Geranium must'a had a hard head.

MOTHER:

Yes, dear, the Simpson girl. Awww... There goes Harold into his dressing room. Not a bobble!

FATHER:

(SOLO STANDING OVATION) Good work, Harold! Good work! (BURSTING WITH PRIDE) By jingo!

MUSIC:

TRIUMPHANT BIRDLIKE, THEN FLUTTERY UNDER

HAROLD:

A short while later, just as the sun disappeared beyond the lawn, a few pale stars had come out. A chilly breeze came up, and the crowd began to disperse. Just as we were leaving, Miss Stutz caught up with us.

YOUNG H:

Papa, this is Miss Stutz.

FATHER:

I'm glad to meet you, Miss Stutz. You know my wife, I think.

STUTZ:

Oh, yes, yes; we're old friends!

MOTHER:

It was lovely.

STUTZ:

Yes, thank you. Uh, Mr. Drake, I want you to know you have a most talented son.

FATHER:

He did do right well, didn't he?

STUTZ:

Oh, the very best one on the field! I felt he was! He was the epitome of a feathery creature. An almost inner-spiritual feeling in his creation.

FATHER:

Thank you, Miss Stutz. I wanted to thank you also for your work with him. I kept him at it, but you pulled him through it, I'm sure.

STUTZ:

(BLUSHING LAUGH) It was nothin', really. He's a... very graceful boy, and I'm sure it would have come through, even without me.

FATHER:

Course I did save him the embarrassment Leonard Fortescue went through. I saw the bill might fall down, so I designed one that would stay up.

STUTZ:

(FLUTTERY LAUGH) Oh, well, then, I suppose that we all did our bit then, didn't we?

FATHER:

I suppose we did. Anyway, I'll be able to hold my head up, at the factory. That's more than Fortescue can do.

STUTZ:

Er, well, I- I must be off. It was all a very, very great pleasure. See you soon!

MOTHER:

Goodnight, Miss Stutz.

FATHER:

Now, you see, Harold, what comes of being sure of what you're doing, and staying with it until you succeed.

YOUNG H:

Yes, sir?

FATHER:

Now, whadda you think would'a happened if I HADN'T stepped in, and seen that everything went off all right?

YOUNG H:

(THINKING HARD) I don't know, Papa.

FATHER:

You'd be in a fix, like Leonard. Perhaps bumping into a Geranium, just as he did, because your bill might have fallen down.

MOTHER:

Sam Drake, I'll not have you taking the bows that belong to that boy. He did the dance; the credit belongs to him, and I want you to tell him so.

FATHER:

Oh, I didn't mean it that way, Bessie.

MOTHER:

Well...

FATHER:

You did do all right, Harold. Now, I can tell Fortescue what I think about a Blue Jay. Yessir! You've saved the family honour!

MOTHER:

Well, that's better, Sam.

FATHER:

Uh, by the way, Harold... How would you like to start taking lessons on the tuba? You seem to have a small talent for performing, and when I was a boy, the tuba was my instrument. (FADING OUT) I don't believe I've ever mentioned...

MUSIC:

CONTENTED, UP, THEN UNDER

HAROLD:

I don't think my father ever really forgave me for not taking up tuba lessons. The confidence I gained from the debut led me to study acting. After many years, I landed here on Broadway. But when Arthur Foster says I was born an actor, don't you believe him. As you now know, in the beginning, I was just plain canary yellow.

MUSIC:

BIRDLIKE, FLUTTERING, THEN TO A FINISH, WITH A RUSTLE OF CREPE PAPER FEATHERS

ANNCR:

"Canary Yellow", starring Cathy and Elliott Lewis - On Stage. In a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis will tell you about next week's play.

Tin Pan Alley ain't proud. When those cats get hep to a good melody, they don't care where it comes from. Tomorrow night, over most of these same CBS Radio stations, "There's Music in the Air" demonstrates the point, as Earl Reitzen, Clark Dennis, Frances Greer, and Alfredo Antonini's orchestra play one favourite after another, originally heard as classical music. That's tomorrow night, on CBS Radio.

And now, once again, Cathy and Elliott Lewis.

MUSIC:

"ON STAGE" TRANSITIONAL, THEN OUT

CATHY:

...which will introduce to all of you, Mr. Thonnis Calhoun. And we believe he's a very gifted young man.

ELLIOTT:

We had two members of the Merrill family with us tonight. Lou Merrill (Thomas Hyland, on "Crime Classics"), Lou Merrill is a father, and played Mr. Fortescue tonight.

CATHY:

Larry Merrill is his son, and played young Harold Drake.

ELLIOTT:

While GeGe Pearson taught the children how to be birds and flowers, and was Miss Stutz.

CATHY:

Next week, a new drama, by Shirley Gordon. It's a beautiful and frightening experience, dramatized under the title "The Child in the Room".

ELLIOTT:

Until next week, thank you for listening. And goodnight.

CATHY:

Goodnight.

MUSIC:

"ON STAGE" THEME UP, UNDER

ANNCR:

Music for tonight's story was composed and conducted by Fred Steiner. The "Cathy and Elliott" theme is by Ray Noble. And the program was transcribed and directed by Mr. Lewis. George Walsh speaking.

And remember, "The Johnny Mercer Show" is heard weekday evenings, on the CBS Radio network.

MUSIC:

"ON STAGE" THEME CONTINUES TO END