LOCAL ANNCR:

This is WMAQ, the Chicago Daily News station. Five seconds until seven p. m., B-U-L-O-V-A, Bulova Watch Time.

SOUND:

LONG PAUSE ... FADE IN BRIEF APPLAUSE

MUSIC:

FANFARE ... 1ST PHRASE

WILCOX:

The Johnson Wax Program!

MUSIC:

FANFARE ... 2ND PHRASE

WILCOX:

Presenting Marian and Jim Jordan as Fibber McGee and Molly!

MUSIC:

THEME ... BRIEF WHISTLING ACCOMPANIMENT BY ELMO TANNER

WILCOX:

Ted Weems and His Orchestra open the show with a tune from "On the Avenue" -- "He Ain't Got Rhythm"!

MUSIC:

TED WEEMS' ORCHESTRA PLAYS A HALF-CHORUS OF IRVING BERLIN'S 1937 MOVIE SONG "HE AIN'T GOT RHYTHM" ... THEN IN BG FOR COMMERCIAL

WILCOX:

Spring will soon be here with the sun streaming through the windows and showing up everything in the room. It's embarrassing to have the light fall across some of the shabby places on a floor, showing up dust and dirt collected in the cracks. If you're wise, you'll protect your floors against dirt and wear with Johnson's Glo-Coat! This remarkable no-rubbing polish seals the pores and cracks; shuts dirt right out! Glo-Coat quickly changes dull dingy floors into bright shining surfaces that you can be proud of. And it's so easy to use. Just apply and let dry. The drying time? Twenty minutes! Order Johnson's Self-Polishing Glo-Coat tomorrow in the attractive yellow can. Oh, yes -- remember, you save money by buying the larger sizes.

MUSIC:

ORCHESTRA UP, TO FINISH THE SONG

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

MUSIC:

THEME ... BRIEFLY, THEN OUT WITH--

WILCOX:

Well, it's a big evening with the McGees -- and with all of us, too. The one hundredth broadcast of "Fibber McGee and Molly" -- and here they are!

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

FIBBER:

Ahhh, imagine it, Molly. One hundred consecutive broadcasts. Seems just like a dream.

MOLLY:

Like a dre--? Why, that's what the sponsor said the other night -- almost.

FIBBER:

What do you mean "almost"?

MOLLY:

Well, he didn't say it was a dream exactly. He just said he hadn't slept very good for a couple of years. ...

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Well, anyway, it's like Zan says to me-- That's my brother, Alexander.

MOLLY:

Oh.

FIBBER:

Like Zan says when he was workin' on the roof and his wristwatch fell off. He says he never saw the time go so fast. ... (LAUGHS) Ya get it, Molly? I--

MOLLY:

Tain't funny, McGee.

FIBBER:

(DISCOURAGED) Okay, okay. ... (REBELLIOUS) I got others. ... One hundred broadcasts. What a night. Who sent ye the nosegay?

MOLLY:

Ixnay on the igpay atinlay. ... Who did what?

FIBBER:

I said, who sent ye the nosegay? The flowers.

MOLLY:

Ohhhh, I thought you were talkin' Pig Latin. Me uncle Dennis sent 'em.

FIBBER:

Oh, then I should have talked Pig Latin.

MOLLY:

Why?

FIBBER:

Well, your Uncle Dennis was a champ hog caller once, wasn't he?

MOLLY:

Sure, but now he's hauling machinery on a truck. It's about the same thing.

FIBBER:

Same thing? Callin' hogs and truckin' machinery?

MOLLY:

Why, sure. Hog callin' -- cog haulin'.

FIBBER:

(STIFLED GROAN)

MOLLY:

Not much difference. ...

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) I never did understand why your Uncle Dennis ever left the circus. I thought he had a good job there.

MOLLY:

He did. But he was fired for carelessness.

FIBBER:

What'd he do?

MOLLY:

He mislaid an elephant someplace. ...

FIBBER:

Probably sneaked it out and sold it to somebody for a bookend. ...

MOLLY:

Oh, Uncle Dennis would never have done that.

FIBBER:

No. Nobody ever told him about bookends, I guess. (CHUCKLES) Come to think about it, I don't believe anybody ever told him about books even.

MOLLY:

Ohhh, now, McGee, you're always-- Oh, hello, Ted!

FIBBER:

Oh, hi, Ted!

TED:

Listen, Molly and Fibber--

FIBBER:

Yeah?

TED:

Allow me to be the first to congratulate you -- on behalf of myself and the boys.

MOLLY:

Oh, thank you, Ted.

FIBBER:

Thanks, Ted. You tell the boys it's just the natural result of brains, perseverance, and hard work.

TED:

What's hard work got to do with it? You just had a darned good horse, that's all.

MOLLY:

What?

FIBBER:

Hey, now -- listen here, Weems, you're a good guy and all that, but I'm ain't gonna let you stand there and call Molly a horse.

TED:

Who called Molly a horse? I was talking about Rosemont; I heard you won some money on him last week.

FIBBER:

Ohhhh.

MOLLY:

Ohhhh. We thought you were congratulating us on our one hundredth broadcast for Johnson's Wax.

TED:

Your hundredth broa--? Say, is that all it's been? Seems like a thousand. ... (TO ORCHESTRA, MOVING OFF) Say, boys, you know what--?

FIBBER:

(BEAT, TO MOLLY) Why-- Why, the un-gratitude of that guy. ... Hm! He ought to be proud to be associated with us. One hundred performances! Say, I'll bet some of those other radio shows envy us.

MOLLY:

(IRONIC) Oh, sure. Poor old Rudy Vallee. He's only been on the air 'bout seven years.

FIBBER:

Mm, yeah. ... Well, Rudy Vallee's an exception. I mean--

MOLLY:

(IRONIC) And Amos 'n' Andy! They've only been on about eight or nine years. They'll never catch up with us now.

FIBBER:

(DISCOURAGED) Ohhhh. ... You know what I meant. One hundred weeks! And they say it only takes a year to really establish a show.

WILCOX:

Well, it only takes twenty minutes to establish a beautiful finish on your floor's linoleum with Johnson's Glo-Coat! And look--

FIBBER:

(ADMONISHES) Harpo!

WILCOX:

Oh, hello, folks. Excuse me for butting in. I guess I was just carried away by my enthusiasm.

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Yeah, well-- As long as you're carried away, I don't care what does it. ...

MOLLY:

Now, McGee. Remember, Mr. Wilcox has been with us for one hundred weeks.

WILCOX:

That's right. And say, Fibber, it's certainly been swell working with you two.

FIBBER:

Workin'?! (LAUGHS HEARTILY) Workin'? (LAUGHS HEARTILY) Why, all you do is mention Johnson's Wax a couple of times. (LAUGHS HEARTILY)

MOLLY:

Aw, now, listen, McGee. Mr. Wilcox has worked hard. Why, just look at him -- all bent over with work and worry. ...

WILCOX:

Yes.

FIBBER:

Why don't you straighten your shoulders, Harpo? Stand up like a man! What's the idea of goin' around all bent over like that?

WILCOX:

Well, I just got tired of bein' a straight man for you, that's all. So long.

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM ... APPLAUSE FOR WILCOX

MOLLY:

Hey, uh, what's the door slam for? He's still standin' right there.

FIBBER:

Yeah, but-- (CHUCKLES) ... He ain't sensitive. One more slam is nothin' to him in his young life. ...

COMO:

(CROONS WORDLESSLY DURING ABOVE, THEN SINGS A LINE FROM A CURRENT POP SONG) "And we were ridin' around in the rain."

MOLLY:

(DELIGHTED) Ohhh!

FIBBER:

Oh, hi, Perry.

MOLLY:

Perry Como.

COMO:

Say, I hear this is your one hundredth Johnson Wax program.

FIBBER:

You betcha, bud.

MOLLY:

That's right, Perry.

COMO:

My girl says her folks have heard every one of your shows.

MOLLY:

Oh, well, now isn't that fine?

FIBBER:

Thanks, Perry.

COMO:

That's a tough job, week after week.

FIBBER:

What? Broadcasting our show?

COMO:

No, listening to it! ...

MOLLY:

Oh.

FIBBER:

You'd better sing, son.

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

MUSIC:

FOR PERRY COMO'S SONG (1937's "MUSIC ON THE MALL" ... WORDS AND MUSIC BY GERALD DOLIN, EDWARD J. LAMBERT, AND VINCENT LOPEZ)

COMO:

(SINGS)
Music on the mall,
Music to enthrall us while we're ro-

Mancing on the mall,
Dancing to the call of love.

There's a magic in a lovely tune
Beneath the silv'ry summer moon
With starry skies and fireflies
To light our pathway.

Dancing to love's call
And sweet music on the mall.

MUSIC:

ORCHESTRA TAKES A CHORUS AND FINISHES

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

MUSIC:

THEME ... BRIEFLY, THEN OUT WITH--

WILCOX:

And so, out of gratitude to their sponsor -- Johnson's Wax, remember? -- on the occasion of their one hundredth broadcast, Fibber and Molly are on their way to send Mr. Johnson a telegram of thanks. Here they are, approaching the telegraph office.

SOUND:

TRAFFIC NOISES

FIBBER:

Hey, where is this telegraph office anyway, Molly?

MOLLY:

Well, wait a minute, I'll ask this man.

FIBBER:

Yeah, ask him.

MOLLY:

Yoo hoo, mister?

RUSSIAN:

Hallo, babouschka! Hallo, tovarich! ...

FIBBER:

(DISMAYED) Oh.

RUSSIAN:

What can I do you out of?!

FIBBER:

Listen, bud, we're lookin' for the telegraph office. You know where it is?

RUSSIAN:

Sure, tovarich! It is being right across the street from leetle Russian ras-t'rant!

MOLLY:

Hmm. And where's the Russian restaurant?

RUSSIAN:

Right across the street from telegripe offitch, babouschka.

FIBBER:

But where's either one of 'em?

RUSSIAN:

Either one is across the street from the other one, dom-bell! You go straight ahead until first turn to right. Da?

FIBBER:

Da.

MOLLY:

Da.

RUSSIAN:

Da. ... Then you are making right turn, four times. Da?

FIBBER:

Da.

MOLLY:

Da da. ...

FIBBER:

(LOW) Don't take advantage that way, Molly. (UP, TO RUSSIAN) Listen, Vodka, we turn to the right four times and then--? Why, say, that brings us right back to where we are now!

RUSSIAN:

Sure, tovarich!

FIBBER:

Well--

RUSSIAN:

By that time, maybe I am remembering where is Russian restaurant across from telegripe offitch! (CROONS A WORDLESS RUSSIAN TUNE AS HE EXITS)

SOUND:

APPLAUSE FOR RUSSIAN

FIBBER:

Well, I guess we'll just-- Oh, here comes Elmo Tanner; let's ask him. Hey, Elmo!

MOLLY:

Yoo hoo, Mr. Tanner?

ELMO:

Oh, hello, folks. What's on your minds?

MOLLY:

We want to send a telegram.

ELMO:

And you can't think of anything to say? I see. Well, how about, "Happy birthday and many more of them"?

FIBBER:

Happy birth--?

ELMO:

Or, "We'll be home on the twelve forty-seven. Love."

FIBBER:

On the twelve forty-seven what?

ELMO:

Well, it depends on where you're coming from. Or, listen, how about, "It's a bouncing boy, nine pounds; both doing well"? ...

MOLLY:

Oh, dear! Listen, Elmo, it's nobody's birthday and we aren't coming from anywhere.

FIBBER:

Or going anywhere!

ELMO:

You're telling me. ...

MOLLY:

And nobody has a baby.

ELMO:

Why, they have, too!

FIBBER:

Who?

ELMO:

Thousands of people have babies. I know some people myself who have one.

MOLLY:

Oh.

FIBBER:

Dad rat it, Elmo. All we want from you is to tell us where the telegraph office is. We want to send a telegram!

ELMO:

What about?

MOLLY:

About our one hundredth broadcast.

ELMO:

Well, when is it?

FIBBER:

When is--? Why, it's tonight! Right now! This is it!

ELMO:

Then why send a telegram? It's too late to warn anybody now. ...

MOLLY:

(HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT) Ohhh.

FIBBER:

Ohhh, okay. Let it go, Elmo; let it go.

ELMO:

Okay. Prepaid or collect?

MOLLY:

Prepaid.

ELMO:

I'll take care of it. (EXITS WHISTLING) ...

FIBBER:

(BEAT) Hmph! He'll take care-- Well, wait a minute, Molly. I'm goin' in this place here and ask 'em where the telegraph office is.

MOLLY:

Well, hurry, McGee.

SOUND:

DOOR SHUTS ... IMMEDIATELY OPENS

FIBBER:

Come on in, Molly.

MOLLY:

Why?

FIBBER:

This is it!

SOUND:

DOOR SHUTS ... CLICK OF TELEGRAPH KEY ... OUT FOR--

GIRL:

Yes, sir?

FIBBER:

Huh?

GIRL:

I said, "Yes, sir?"

FIBBER:

"Yes, sir" what?

GIRL:

Just "Yes, sir?"

MOLLY:

Which, translated from the ancient Egyptian, means "What's on your mind?" ...

FIBBER:

Oh. Oh, you mean "what do I want," eh?

GIRL:

Yes, sir.

FIBBER:

Well, we want to send a telegram.

GIRL:

Yes, sir. (RAPIDLY) Domestic or cable, full-rate or deferred, night letter, ship radiogram, night message, or day letter?

FIBBER & MOLLY:

(MILDLY EXASPERATED) Just a common ordinary telegram. ...

FIBBER:

(BEAT) Well, what's the matter, Sis? Don't you handle ordinary telegrams?

GIRL:

One moment, please; I'm looking it up.

FIBBER:

Oh.

SOUND:

BOOK PAGES FLIPPED

GIRL:

(BEAT, AMAZED) Why, yes, sir! We do! How did you know? ...

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) I dreamed it last night, Sis. ... Then I looked it up in the dream book and there it was on page twenty-eight, right between white horses, redheaded gals, and being chased by a snake. ...

MOLLY:

Ohhh. Get on with the telegram.

GIRL:

Yes, madam. To whom did youse wish to send it to?

MOLLY:

Our sponsor. It's our one hundredth program on their air.

FIBBER:

You know, Sis -- Fibber McGee and Molly?

GIRL:

Who?

FIBBER:

Fibber McGee and Molly. Monday night.

GIRL:

What about Monday night?

MOLLY:

We're on then. On the radio.

GIRL:

Gee, me too. Who do you listen to? ...

FIBBER:

Who--?

MOLLY:

We don't listen. We broadcast. Fibber McGee and Molly.

GIRL:

Haven't you got a radio? You could listen on mine, if you wanted to. ...

FIBBER:

(GROANS) Ohhhh. Listen, Sis. We're radio actors.

MOLLY:

(VERY DRY) Oh, yeah?

FIBBER:

(CLEARS THROAT SELF-CONSCIOUSLY) ... (TO GIRL) We're on every Monday. Listen to us sometime.

GIRL:

Gee, I don't have time Mondays. I'm always listenin' to the radio Mondays.

FIBBER & MOLLY:

(GROAN)

MOLLY:

Oh, dear. Get on with the telegram, McGee.

FIBBER:

Okay. (TO GIRL) You come back in a few minutes, Sis. I gotta compose the telegram.

GIRL:

Certainly, sir. If there's anything of which I can do to be of service to youse, just lemme know, sir. (EXITS) ...

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Let's see now. Telegraph blank. Pencil. Well, now, let's figure out what we're goin' to say.

MOLLY:

Okay. Well, how 'bout this, McGee?

FIBBER:

Mm hm?

MOLLY:

(HITS A LONG HIGH NOTE ON THE WORD "DEEP") "On the occasion of our one hundredth broadcast for you, may we express our deep appreciation for what you have done for us, and may our next hundred weeks with Johnson's Wax be just as pleasant. Signed, Fibber McGee and Molly."

FIBBER:

Wel-l-l, that - that's a lot of words, Molly. That costs a lot of dough. You're way over the ten-word mark, you know.

MOLLY:

Well, heavenly days, what can you say in ten words?

WILCOX:

Well, you can say, "Johnson's Glo-Coat makes floors and linoleum shine like new again"! ...

MOLLY:

(GROANS)

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) What you doin' in here, Harpo?

WILCOX:

I'm sending a nasty telegram to my ex-girl.

FIBBER:

Oh.

MOLLY:

Your ex-girl? Why, what happened, Mr. Wilcox?

WILCOX:

She met a fence salesman -- and gave me the gate. ...

MOLLY:

Oh, I see. So you're sending her a barbed wire. ... [APPLAUSE FOR JOKE]

WILCOX:

(LAUGHS HEARTILY) A barbed wire! Say, that's pretty good!

FIBBER:

Yeah, it has its points. ... Well, can we help you decompose the telegram?

WILCOX:

Yes, you can. How do you spell, "Nyah"? ...

FIBBER:

Spell what?

WILCOX:

"Nyah."

MOLLY:

I think you'd better call her up instead.

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Yeah.

WILCOX:

Say, I never thought of that. Thanks!

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM

GIRL:

Can I be of any service to youse? We have regular forms, you know, to cover almost any con-strin-gency. ...

FIBBER:

Contingency, Sis.

GIRL:

What?

FIBBER:

It's tin, not strin. Tin!

GIRL:

"Tin" what?

MOLLY:

(TRIUMPHANT) Tin words or less! ... Have you any form telegrams, dearie, to thank a sponsor for a hundred weeks on his air?

GIRL:

Let's see. No. But here's one thanking a host for taking you to "Ten Nights in a Barroom."

FIBBER:

Oh, no, that don't quite fit the circumstances, Sis, I'm afraid.

GIRL:

How about this one? Thanking a judge for giving you only thirty days.

MOLLY:

Well, no. It's not quite the sentiment.

FIBBER:

This is to go to our sponsor, Sis, on our one hundredth broadcast.

GIRL:

Lemme look again. Broadcast, broadcast. Here! Here. "Wonderful broadcast last night. Stop. You never sang better. Love."

FIBBER:

Well, that'd be fine if our sponsor was a singer.

GIRL:

I'm sorry. I guess this constringency never come up before. I'll mention it in my report.

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Well, skip it. Let's see. Uh, s'pose we just say-- Let's see, er, "Thanks and appreciation for one hundred very happy weeks for Johnson's Wax and may we all--" Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, brother.

BOOMER:

Don't mention it, my little telegraph blank. ... Here, my dear.

GIRL:

Yes, sir?

BOOMER:

Send this telegram right away. I got it right here.

GIRL:

Yes, sir. To whom did youse wish it to go to?

BOOMER:

Uh, to Mr. Morganfeller -- care of Morganfeller, Morganfeller, Morganfeller, Morganfeller, and Scrimp!

FIBBER:

(ASIDE) Somebody's sellin' Morganfeller short.

BOOMER:

Quiet, my little wire hair, quiet. (TO GIRL) Let's see, uh, here's the message, my dear. "Will not sell my shares of stock under three million. Have been offered two million cash by Wall Street interests. Signed, Horatio K. Boomer."

MOLLY:

(LOW) Heavenly days, McGee. Three million!

FIBBER:

Wow.

GIRL:

That will be forty-two cents, sir.

BOOMER:

(MUMBLES, TO HIMSELF) Ah, yes, forty-two cents, forty-two cents. Now, let me see, forty-two cents. (RUMMAGES THROUGH POCKETS) Uh, I've got two cigarette pictures. Special delivery stamp. A few crumbs of peanut brittle and a short beer. ... (UP, GRANDLY, TO GIRL) Ah, yes! Tell me, my dear, can you make change for a hundred dollar bill?

GIRL:

Yes, sir.

BOOMER:

Well, well! How disconcert-- ... Uh, how very interesting, yes. Well, you don't see many of 'em these days, yes, er-- (UP BIG) Just send the telegram collect! (MOVING OFF) Yes, er, thank you.

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM

MOLLY:

Now, listen, McGee--

FIBBER:

Hmm?

MOLLY:

Suppose we just say, "On our one hundredth broadcast--"

FIBBER:

You don't have to say "one hundredth." Just say, "hundredth."

MOLLY:

That's right. We save a word that way.

SOUND:

CLICK! OF TELEGRAPH KEY

FIBBER:

Hey! What's that, Sis?

GIRL:

It's a message for you, sir. You're Mr. McGee?

MOLLY:

That's us. What does it say? Read it, McGee.

SOUND:

RATTLE! OF PAPER

FIBBER:

It says, "Dear Fibber and Molly. Having fine tune. Wish you would hear. Signed, Ted Weems." (MOVING OFF) Well, come on, Molly. Let's sit down.

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

MUSIC:

TED WEEMS' ORCHESTRA PLAYS A CHORUS OF 1936's "THE TELEGRAM SONG" BY JOHN LOEB AND CHARLES TOBIAS ... THEN PARKER GIBBS SINGS A CHORUS--

PARKER:

(SINGS)
My darling, I miss you tonight. Stop.
I wish I could kiss you tonight. Stop.
Want to let you know just how I am
So I'm sending you this telegram.

The weather is rainy and cold. Stop.
The next house to our house was sold. Stop.
Lovely neighbors moved in, by the way,
Came around to borrow eggs today.

Here is some news that's really news:
Mr. Brown became a pop.
Don't forget to wire and say,
Congratulations. Stop.

My darling, there's so much to write. Stop.
A letter will follow tonight. Stop.
Wonder if you're lonely as I am.
Now I've got to close this telegram.

I love you. Stop. Mean it. Stop.
Phone me. Stop. Write me. Stop.
But don't stop - loving me.

MUSIC:

ORCHESTRA FINISHES

SOUND:

APPLAUSE

WILCOX:

That was Parker Gibbs singing "The Telegram Song." Now, it's all very well to tell you how much more attractive your floors and linoleum will look if you protect them with Johnson's Glo-Coat, but somewhere back in your mind, perhaps, is the thought that Glo-Coat may be hard to apply. It may mean quite a little work and bother to put it on the floor. So let me banish that thought once and for all! Johnson's Glo-Coat is very easy to apply. It's a liquid polish. You merely spread a little of this liquid lightly over the floor surface without bearing down or rubbing in. You won't even soil your hands if you use the long-handled applier. Glo-Coat dries right before your eyes to a beautiful bright polish that protects the floor from wear and seals it against dirt and stains. The drying time is just twenty minutes! Nothing could be easier than to make your floors sparkle like new with Johnson's Self-Polishing Glo-Coat -- made by the makers of Johnson's Wax.

MUSIC:

THEME ... BRIEFLY, THEN OUT WITH--

WILCOX:

Now back to the telegraph office, where Fibber and Molly are still trying to get their telegraphic thanks down to an economical minimum.

MOLLY:

Well, now, let's see, McGee. We got to get the number of words down.

FIBBER:

Yeah.

MOLLY:

How about, "It's been wonderful bein' on your program these hundred weeks. We certainly hope--"

FIBBER:

Whoa, whoa. That's ten words right there.

MOLLY:

Oh, dear. And I was just started. Why--

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS

FIBBER:

Oh, hi there, bud. We in your way here?

STROOP:

(SOURLY) No, I just want to send a telegram to my contractor. He's building a new porch on my summer cottage and I find it's gonna cost me too much.

MOLLY:

Well, we'll be glad to help you with it. What's his name?

STROOP:

Stumpf.

FIBBER:

Stumpf? What's yours, bud?

STROOP:

Stroop. Why?

FIBBER:

Stroop. (BEAT) Oh, shucks, that works out pretty good, bud. Just say, er, "Dear Stumpf! Stop! Stop starting stoop! Stop! Too steep! Stop! Stroop!" ...

STROOP:

(THRILLED) That's fine! Send that, girlie!

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM ... APPLAUSE FOR JOKE

MOLLY:

Now if you'd only get that magnificent brain to work on your own problems, McGee, we might get someplace.

FIBBER:

Okay. How about this? "Dear sponsor. Celebrating our centennial today--"

MOLLY:

No, no, no.

FIBBER:

Hm?

MOLLY:

Centennial means a hundred years.

FIBBER:

Well, what's the word for a hundred weeks?

MOLLY:

Centa-week-ial! ...

FIBBER:

"Celebrating our centa-week-ial--" Are you sure that's right, Molly?

MOLLY:

Well, no, but I--

SOUND:

PHONE RINGS ... RECEIVER UP

GIRL:

Hello? -- Yeah? -- Messenger? Sure, we'll send him right over. -- Yes, ma'am. He'll be right there.

SOUND:

RECEIVER DOWN

GIRL:

(CALLS) Messenger? (NO ANSWER) Messenger, wake up!

SILLY:

(BIG YAWN) Yes, ma'am?

GIRL:

Go to Mrs. Wheedlex at Fourteenth and Oak Street and hurry!

SILLY:

Yes, ma'am, I'll-- Oh, hey, Mr. McGee! Hi, ma'am!

MOLLY:

Heavenly days! Silly Watson!

FIBBER:

Hi, Sil! You a messenger?

SILLY:

Yes, sir, I've been messin' for a long time, please, sir. ...

MOLLY:

Well, you can't make much at that work, can ya, Silly?

SILLY:

No, ma'am, but my girl Rosebud Jackson, she like a man what wears a uniform, please, ma'am. She say it give me "diggety." ...

MOLLY:

It gives ya what?

SILLY:

Diggety. Rosebud say there ain't nothin' got more diggety than a uniform.

FIBBER:

(CHUCKLES) Well, she said "dignity," didn't she, Sil?

SILLY:

Yes, sir.

FIBBER:

Well, you says, "diggety."

SILLY:

Yes, sir.

MOLLY:

Well, can't you say "dignity"?

SILLY:

Yes, ma'am.

FIBBER:

Well, say it then!

SILLY:

I don't have to say it, boss. I's got it. ... I now probably the most diggetyfied man Rosebud know. She say I--

MOLLY:

Oh, look, Silly! There goes Rosebud Jackson out there now.

SILLY:

Where, ma'am? Yes, ma'am, there she is. Hot dignity! (CALLS, MOVING OFF) Hey, Rosebud, wait up for Silly! ...

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM ... APPLAUSE FOR SILLY

MOLLY:

Well, we're not getting anywhere, McGee. Start writing!

FIBBER:

Hey, I just happened to think o' somethin'. (CALLS) Hey, Sis!

GIRL:

Yes, sir?

FIBBER:

We save any dough on our telegram if I send it myself? I'm an old telegraph operator, you know. Just let me at that key a minute--

GIRL:

Against the rules, mister. Did you say you was an operator?

FIBBER:

You betcha, Sis. I was the best-known telegraph man with the whole U.J.G. & T.I.E. Railroad.

MOLLY:

The U.J.G. & T.I.E.? What does that mean?

WILCOX:

That means, "Use Johnson's Glo-Coat and Take It Easy." ...

MOLLY:

(UNHAPPY) Ohhh.

FIBBER:

(ADMONISHES) Harpo. I thought you were callin' up your girl.

WILCOX:

I was, but I just got word that King George has given my cousin a title and I want to congratulate him.

FIBBER:

Well, that's easy. Send him a knight letter. [(LAUGHS) Get it, Molly? What is he now, Harpo? A duke?

WILCOX:

No. He's an earl.

FIBBER:

Well you better hurry with that telegram then. It's 3,000 miles to England.

WILCOX:

What of it?

FIBBER:

Well, we change our earl at 5,000 miles.

WILCOX:

Oh oh, I better call him up, too! Thanks!] (MOVING OFF) Oh, a knight letter. How do you like that? A knight letter. ...

GIRL:

Did youse say you was "formally" a telegraph operator, Mr. McGee?

FIBBER:

You betcha, Sis. (BOASTS) Why, at one time, every telegraph operator in the country knew my hand on the key.

MOLLY:

(GROANS)

FIBBER:

Every time they heard TE-DIT, TE-DIT, TE-DIT-DIT-DIT, they'd say, "Well, well! There's old 'Morse Code' McGee!" "'Morse Code' McGee," they called me in them days!

MOLLY:

(GROANS) Oh, my!

FIBBER:

"Morse Code" McGee, miracle man of messages and magnificent mental marvel makin' monkeys of minor minions messin' with Morse! ... [APPLAUSE]

MOLLY:

McGee -- remember your promise to stick to the truth.

FIBBER:

Ahem. (TO GIRL) Come on, Sis. How about it?

GIRL:

Sorry, sir. I'm afraid I can't allow youse to send it yourself.

FIBBER:

Aw, shucks.

SOUND:

DOOR LATCH AND SLAM

GIRL:

Yes, sir?

MAN:

(FOOLISH GIGGLE; CONSTANTLY ON THE VERGE OF GIGGLING BASHFULLY THROUGHOUT SCENE) I'd like to send a telegram. (GIGGLES)

MOLLY:

One side, McGee. Let the man send his telegram.

FIBBER:

Okay, bud. What's the message?

MOLLY:

None of your business, McGee.

MAN:

Oh, that's all right.

GIRL:

Well, what's the message, sir?

MAN:

(ABASHED) "I love you, I love you, I love you." How many words is that?

GIRL:

Nine, sir. You got one more.

MAN:

One more? (GIGGLES) Make it "love." ...

GIRL:

(READS) "I love you, I love you, I love you. Love."

MAN:

Yes, that's it. (TO FIBBER AND MOLLY) I'm sending it to my wife. (GIGGLES)

MOLLY:

We don't care who you send it to, mister.

MAN:

Really? (TO GIRL) Then send it to Jean Harlow! (LAUGHS, MOVING OFF) ...

SOUND:

DOOR SLAM

FIBBER:

Jean Harlow? Heh! And I thought that guy was nutty. ...

MOLLY:

(ADMONISHES) McGee! (BEAT) You know what you want to say yet?

FIBBER:

Sure I do. Take this down, Sis! "Johnson's Wax, Racine, Wisconsin! Many thanks for hundred weeks on air with you. Signed, Fibber McGee and Molly." How's that, Molly? Only nine words.

MOLLY:

Nine words sounds a little cheap, McGee. You might as well cut it down farther than that. Why don't you just say, er, "Thanks for last hundred weeks"?

GIRL:

How about "One hundred weeks. Thanks"?

FIBBER:

Well, that's not bad, but why not just say, er, "Many weeks, many thanks"?

MOLLY:

Yeah. Or for that matter, just "Many thanks."

FIBBER:

Or just "Thanks." They'll know what for.

MOLLY:

I think you got somethin' there, McGee.

FIBBER:

Mm hm.

MOLLY:

(TO GIRL) Send that, dearie. Just one word -- "Thanks."

GIRL:

Okay.

SOUND:

CLICK! OF TELEGRAPH KEY ... BEAT ... CLACK! OF RECEIVING TELEGRAPH

GIRL:

Gee! Here's an answer already.

FIBBER:

What's it say?

GIRL:

"You're welcome." ...

SOUND:

APPLAUSE ... IN AND OUT BEHIND--

MUSIC:

TED WEEMS' ORCHESTRA PLAYS A SELECTION

FIBBER:

Yes, sir, Molly, you know, this telegraph business is great stuff. Why, when I was a radio operator--

MOLLY:

Oh, thanks for reminding me, McGee.

FIBBER:

Hm?

MOLLY:

I got to go to the hairdresser's.

FIBBER:

We were talkin' about radio. (WITH A CHUCKLE) Oh, you mean you're goin' to the hairdresser's to get your "head set." (CHUCKLES)

MOLLY:

No, I got an appointment for a "short wave."

FIBBER:

Short--? Heh. (TO ALL) Good night.

MOLLY:

Good night, all.

SOUND:

APPLAUSE ... IN AND OUT BEHIND--

MUSIC:

CURTAIN ... THEN THEME ... BRIEF WHISTLING ACCOMPANIMENT BY ELMO TANNER

WILCOX:

This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for the makers of Johnson's Wax and inviting you all to join us again next Monday night at this same time. Until then, good night.

NBC ANNCR:

This is the Red Network of the National Broadcasting Company.

MUSIC:

NBC CHIMES