Announcer:

The Magnificent Montague starring Monte Wooley.

SFX:

Applause

Announcer:

Yes, it’s The Magnificent Montague, the Saturday night transcribed feature on NBC’s all-star festival of comedy, music, mystery, and drama, brought to you by Anacin for fast relief of headache, neuritis and neuralgia; and by RCA Victor, world leader in radio, first in recorded music, and first in television. It is from them we hear this word.

Commercial announcer:

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Announcer:

And now, The Magnificent Montague.

Music

Announcer:

Although Edwin, The Magnificent Montague, left the stage to become Uncle Goodheart, hero of an afternoon radio program, he has remained a member and moving force of the Proscenium Club, that stalwart organization of Shakespearian actors who live in an unemployed world of their own. All year long the Proscenium Club waits for their one big event, their annual Fourth of July Picnic and Outing at Shakespeare Grove. It is the morning of the great event. In the Montague apartment his wife Lily and Agnes, the maid, are making up lunch baskets. Agnes is very happy.

Agnes:

(singing) Have you got the mustard, mustard, mustard? Have you got the pickles, pickles, pickles? Have you got the relish, relish, relish? Have you got the—

Lily:

Agnes?

Agnes:

Yeah, honey?

Lily:

Oh, you have the lunch basket almost packed!
Agnes: What a picnic! Look at this food—fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs,
chocolate cake. Boy are those ants gonna live!

Lily:

Everything looks so…oh wait, Agnes.

Agnes:

What honey?

Lily:

I just remembered. Edwin hates deviled eggs.

Agnes:

So what?

Lily:

Well, it’ll spoil the picnic for him.

Agnes: What picnic?

Lily:

Well, Agnes isn’t that lunch for the Proscenium Club Fourth of July Picnic?

Agnes:

Are you kidding? This is for my picnic.

Lily:

Your picnic?

Agnes:

Yeah. My social club—The Unattached Girls of East 37th Street’s throwing one.

Lily:

Dear, I thought that lunch was for Edwin.

Agnes:

Oh, don’t worry. I’ll fix him one right now.

Lily:

Oh, good.

Agnes:

(singing) Have I got the poison, poison, poison? Have I got the arsenic, arsenic, arsenic?

Lily:

Agnes! Why don’t you come along with us?

Agnes:

Honey, please don’t trap me into one of those outdoor memorial services the Proscenium Club calls a picnic.

Lily:

But Agnes, it’s always great fun. That picnic with Edwin’s old actor friends.

Agnes:

Fun? With those stuffy old actors?

Lily:

Oh, Agnes. You know on the picnic they’re very informal.

Agnes:

A real fun-loving bunch of mad-caps. Sitting around under the trees with their spats unbuttoned.

Lily:

Agnes, you know there’s always swimming.

Agnes:

Now that’s worth seeing. The swimming suits those old fogeys climb into.

Lily:

It may be a little conservative and old fashioned…

Agnes:

Whatever it is, it’s the only place you can see a double-breasted bathing suit with a belt in the back.

Lily:

Oh, come now, Agnes.

Agnes:

The campfire with those long, dull recitations from Shakespeare. And then your husband takes over with his annual rendering of Hamlet’s soliloquy. I can still hear the voice ringing through the woods.

Lily:

Hm. It really gets them.

Agnes:

It must. Last year 200 moose came running looking for mates.

Lily:

Oh, Agnes. It won’t be the same without you.

Agnes:

No, honey, I’m all set to go with The Unattached Girls of East 37th Street. The entertainment committee has lined up a boat ride up to Bear Mountain and the invitation says. “campfire, songs, and dancing.”

Lily:

Dancing at Bear Mountain? Oh, then you all have dates?

Agnes:

Dates? Those girls? You kidding?

Lily:

Then who are you going to dance with?

Agnes:

The bears, I guess.

Lily:

Oh, Agnes!

Agnes:

Wait’ll those bears get a load of my club. They’ll be in early hibernation this year.

Lily:

Oh, come along to the Proscenium Club picnic with us, Agnes. Edwin will be—uh-oh—I hear him. He’s out in—

Agnes:

Now comes the warming of The Magnificent Montague’s tonsils.

Edwin:

(vocal warm-ups) MEMEME AHHH OOOH

Agnes:

(shouting) Air raid! Go to your shelters!
Lily: Agnes, please.

Edwin:

EEE AHHH OOOH HA ha ha ha, good morning, Lily!

Lily:

Good morning, Edwin.

Edwin:

‘Gad, you look lovely this morning, Lily.

Agnes:

Good morning, Mr. Montague.

Edwin:

‘Gad.

Lily:

Oh, now, Edwin. Agnes is very attractive this morning.

Edwin:

Attractive? Lily, must she always wear those curlers in her hair? What is she trying to attract—lightning?

Agnes:

Look who’s talking about beauty—the face with the hanging garden.

Lily:

Oh, please stop, now both of you.

Agnes:

It’s so nice to have a man around the house, and we’re stuck with a monster.

Edwin:

Ah, Independence Day! This is the beginning of the Fourth. Must we have a made who talks as if she’d just finished a fifth?

Lily:

Agnes, don’t answer him. Bring in Edwin’s breakfast.

Edwin:

Ah, breakfast--my morning tussle with ptomaine.

Lily: Oh, stop picking on her. You have a big day in front of you. Right after your radio broadcast this afternoon, we’re going to the Proscenium Club annual picnic.

Edwin:

Yes, Lily, tonight, ‘round the campfire, with all my faithful friends of the stage around me I can forget for a moment that I, The Magnificent Montague, deserted the theater for radio. From Hamlet to Uncle Goodheart five times a week. “Ay, what a rogue and peasant slave am I. My offence is rank, o, beauty conscience. Villainy, I am thy chief.”

SFX:

door slams

Agnes:

What do you want with your eggs, ham? I mean what do you want with your eggs? Ham?

Agnes:

Oh, don’t make over a slip of the tongue.

Edwin:

Agnes, if that tongue of yours ever slipped, it would hit the ground.

Lily:

Edwin, don’t feel so guilty about going into radio. Tonight when you give your annual reading of Hamlet’s soliloquy, you’ll again be The Magnificent Montague.

Edwin: Mm.

Lily:

Don’t you think you’d better rehearse it?

Edwin:

I rehearse Hamlet’s soliloquy? (laughs) Well, shame on you, Lily! I know it like I know the back of my own hand. “ To be or not to be, that is the problem.”

Lily:

“That is the question.”

Edwin:

“That is the question. Whether it is safer in the mind to—“

Lily:

“Nobler in the mind.”

Edwin:

“Nobler in the mind to suffer the arrows and slings—“

Lily:

“Slings and arrows.”

Edwin:

“Slings and arrows of courageous fortune—“

Lily:

“Outrageous fortune.”

Edwin:

“Outrageous fortune. Or to take arms against the pack of trouble—“

Lily:

“Sea of trouble.”

Edwin:

“A sea of trouble—“

Agnes:

A mess of trouble.

Edwin:

“A mess of trouble—“

Lily:

Agnes!

Agnes:

This is fun!

Edwin:

Quiet! “To die, to sleep. To sleep perchance to wake—“

Lily:

“Perchance to dream.”

Edwin:

“Perchance to dream—“

Agnes:

Perchance to snore.

Edwin:

“Perchance to snore—“ Lily, get her out of here!

Lily:

Quiet, Agnes. Go on.

Edwin: “Ay, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub.”

Lily:

Oh, bravo, Edwin.

Edwin:

And you thought I didn’t remember it.

Agnes:

Mr. Montague, you sure know it like the back of your own hand.

Edwin:

Thank you.

Agnes:

You must’ve been wearing gloves for fifty years.

Edwin:

Excuse me, Agnes, for exposing your delicate brain to culture. Hereafter, with you in the room, we’ll only quote from the racing form.

Lily:

Well, never mind Agnes, Edwin. You sounded wonderful. They’ll cheer you at the campfire tonight. I’ve got to get things ready for the picnic.

Edwin:

Wait Lily.

Lily:

What is it, Edwin?

Edwin:

Lily, I’m not going.

Lily:

Edwin! Well, you haven’t missed a Proscenium Club Fourth of July picnic in your whole life!

Edwin:

I know, but Lily, this year I can’t face it.

Lily:

Edwin.

Edwin:

Lily, the club never found out I’ve deserted their ranks for the gold of radio. I’m not going. It’s a mockery.

Lily:

Edwin, the Proscenium picnic is more than just a group of Shakespearean actors having an outing.

Edwin:

I know. It’s the Fourth of July.

Lily:

It’s more than just the date of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It’s where we first met.

Agnes:

On the day it was signed.

Edwin:

Hush, Agnes. Lily, now I remember we did meet at a Proscenium Club picnic.

Lily:

I was in the Garrick Gaieties at the time and came to the picnic with one of the fellows from the show.

Edwin:

And I was playing King Lear. Now what girl did I bring?

Agnes:

Betsy Ross.

Lily:

Please. Remember we sat next to each other at the campfire, singing the big song of that year. Now what was it?

Agnes:

Marching Through Georgia.

Edwin:

Alright, Agnes. Just for that, no kennel ration for you tonight.

Lily:

Oh, what a picnic that was. You were after me all day. How you flirted!

Edwin:

Yes. (laughs) How you ran from me! Oh, you acted so coy. You played so hard to get.

Agnes:

You were so hard to take.

Lily:

Please, Agnes. These are our memories. Oh, Edwin. We must go to that picnic.

Edwin:

Lily, we’ll find that same tree we carved our initials in.

Lily:

That little brook you carried me across.

Edwin:

It’s still all there, Lily, the same tree, the same brook, the same moon. The same two people, you and I.

Agnes:

(sings) Hello, young lovers, wherever you are…

Edwin:

Oh, quiet!

Agnes:

I just tried to help you recapture that mad moment.

Lily:

(laughs) Ah, yes, we were mad.

Agnes:

Mad? You must’ve been nuts.

Edwin:

Lily, when we see that little tree again, where we carved our initials, something new is going to be hanging from it. Agnes.

Lily:

Then you’re going to the picnic, Edwin?

Edwin:

Am I promised a kiss in the moonlight from a certain beautiful lady?

Lily:

If a certain handsome and dashing gentleman is there to carry a certain lady across the brook again, how can I refuse?

Edwin:

(playfully) I’m going to be there.

Lily:

I’m going to be there.

Agnes:

I’m going to be sick.

Edwin:

So help me, Lily, I’m going to kill her!

Lily:

You’re going to be late for your broadcast, and we all have to get ready for the picnic.

Edwin:

I’ll pick you and Agnes up right after my broadcast.

Lily:

Oh, Edwin. Agnes can’t go on the picnic with us.

Edwin:

She can’t?

Lily:

No, she’s going upriver with her friends.

Edwin:

I knew it! The Kefauver Committee is back.

Lily:

No, Edwin. Agnes has an outing of her own to go to. For the first time she won’t be with us.

Edwin:

Shakespeare Grove and no Agnes. Lily, this is really going to be a picnic. Goodbye!

Applause

Music

Announcer:

We’ll be back with The Magnificent Montague in just a moment.

Commercial Announcer:

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Announcer: And now, back to The Magnificent Montague.

Music

Announcer:

With thoughts of the picnic on his mind, he is just finishing his Uncle Goodheart radio program. Listen.

Edwin:

Come, come, Ronald. All fun-loving boys celebrate the Fourth of July. Come shoot firecrackers. Come light the skyrockets. You, Ronald, like to blow open bank safes. Dear listeners, this is just an example of the trouble you can get into on the Fourth of July. That is why your Uncle Goodheart has been urging you to spend the Fourth of July at home, safe from accidents and you will live once again to greet the new day, with your eyes high into the sun and light.

Music

Announcer:

So ends another episode of Uncle Goodheart. And now, stand by, as we announce the lucky winners of the Uncle Goodheart letter writing contest.

Musical fanfare

Announcer:

The prize-winning letter on the subject “How I Would Spend the Fourth of July at Home with Uncle Goodheart” was written in by Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall Pattoo of Hemlock Hill, Tennessee.

Musical fanfare

Announcer:

Mr. and Mrs. Patto are on their way to New York, all expenses paid, to fulfill their hearts desire. They will spend the Fourth of July in the happy home of Uncle Goodheart.

Music

Springer:

Okay, you’re off the air Mr. Montague. Good show!

Edwin:

Oh, that was a beaut. How do I keep out of jail?
Springer: Ask our director, Mr. Zinzer. Had a lot of heart to it, didn’t it Zinzer?

Zinzer:

Yes siree. That was a real doozer.

Edwin:

Oh, shut up, Zinzer.

Zinzer:

Yes, sir.

Edwin:

Springer, what was he mumbling about? I distinctly heard the announcer say something about someone winning a contest about the Fourth of July.

Springer:

Oh, you mean the “How I Would Spend My Fourth of July at Uncle Goodheart’s Home.”

Edwin:

How I Would Spend my WHAT with WHOM?

Springer:

Zinzer? Didn’t you explain?

Zinzer:

You tell him.

Edwin:

Zinzer.

Zinzer:

Oh, dear. Well, you see, Mr. Montague, the people who won the contest get to spend Fourth of July in your house. Don’t hit me!

Edwin:

Zinzer, my home is not a one night stand for drooling idiots dragged in from the hinterlands by Flugel Soap.

Zinzer:

But Mr. Montague, Mr. and Mrs. Pattoo won the contest in good faith.

Springer:

It was a national contest. The federal government has laws guaranteeing the prize.

Edwin:

Good. Let the government be their host. Let them stay at Blair House.

Springer:

Mr. Montague, this will mean trouble for you!

Edwin:

Gentlemen—and I use the word loosely—I’m going out on a picnic today.

Springer:

Mr. Montague! You can’t go out! You’ve been campaigning for people to stay home on the Fourth.

Zinzer:

We announced the winner would spend the Fourth of July with you and get everything they mentioned in the letter.

Edwin:

Get everything they mentioned? Where’s the letter? Read it.
Zinzer: (sighs)

Edwin:

Go on, Zinzer.

Zinzer:

It says, “Round about sundown, Ma and I would climb into our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and show up at dear Uncle Goodheart’s diggings.”

Edwin:

Yes.

Zinzer:

“Ma would give Uncle Goodheart’s wife her own recipe for Southern Dixie Goulash, which dear Aunt Goodheart would start cooking for dinner.”

Edwin:

Yes.

Zinzer:

“Then we would all sit around the fireplace singing, gossiping and playing the melodeon and just a sitting and listening to Uncle Goodheart’s homey philosophy.”

Edwin:

Yes.

Zinzer:

“Signed Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall Pattoo.” That’s all, Mr. Montague.

Edwin:

It is?

Zinzer:

Yes.

Edwin:

Oh, no, if you think I’m turning my apartment into a sharecropper’s villa…

Springer:

Mr. Montague, you have a contract.

Edwin: But I must go to my picnic.

Springer:

Mr. Montague, they’re coming in by bus after two days and nights riding. They’ll be dead tired.

Zinzer:

Yeah, they’ll probably fall asleep …

Edwin:

Sleep? That’s it! Now, Zinzer, when you get them off that bus I want you to take them sight-seeing.

Zinzer:

Sight-seeing in this heat? They won’t make it.

Edwin:

Fine. When you arrive at my apartment with them at six o’clock when I open the door I want them to fall in. Out cold.

Music

Lily:

Agnes, if there was any other way…

Agnes:

This is a fine time to tell me to cancel my picnic. I got a right to live, too.

Edwin:

Agnes, I told you we’re expecting Mr. and Mrs. Pattoo.

Lily:

Well, I think it’s shameful, getting those people tired, just so we can walk out on them.

Edwin:

And what did you want me to do? Sit around all night with them hog-calling?

Lily:

Well, Edwin, it may kill them.

SFX:

door bell

Edwin:

That’s Zinzer and the Pattoos. Come in.

SFX:

door opens

Edwin:

Zinzer!

Zinzer:

Water…water.

Edwin:

Grab him! Don’t let him fall. Agnes! A glass of water. Zinzer, you all right?

Zinzer:

I’m dehydrated. Walking, walking in that sun.

Edwin:

Ah, easy, old man. There you are. Where are the Pattoos?

Zinzer:

Right here. Mr. and Mrs. Pattoo, this is Uncle Goodheart.

Mr. P:

Howdy. This is Uncle Goodheart. Yee-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Edwin:

What’s that?

Zinzer:

That’s the Rebel Yell, Mr. Montague. He does it every 10 minutes. My eardrums went on the third one.

Edwin:

Oh, Zinzer. You’re shot. You’d better go.

SFX:

door

Mr. P:

Uncle Goodheart, begging your pardon, sir, but it gives me great pride to present the little lady, who I’m proud, mighty proud to say is my wife, Emmy Mae.

Mrs. P:

Well, land sakes alive! I do declare! If last week anyone was to tell me I’d be in little ole New York and meet y’all, I would say y’all just slap my chops and you’ll better….

Mr. P:

(JUMP) Alright, Emmy. She’s a little loose in the lips. Well, where do we start, Uncle?

Edwin:

I guess you’re kind of tired. If you’d like to lie down, the beds are all…

Mr. P:

Mighty neighborly, Uncle Goodheart, but if you don’t mind, I’ll just stand.

Edwin:

Stand?

Mr. P:

Been riding on a bus two days and three nights. I’m kind of saddle sore. If you get what I mean? (laughs)

Edwin:

Oh, no.

Mrs. P:

Why, Stonewall’s just a born clown. Why coming through Charleston, better come up here in the bus, and this strangers sitting all smart and sassy, and this stranger…

Mr. P:

(JUMP) Alright, Emmy. She does take on.

Lily:

Did the Patoos arrive?

Mr. P:

Why, Uncle Goodheart. Don’t tell me this purty little heifer sidling up to us is your wife, Auntie Goodheart?

Edwin:

Yes, the purty little heifer is my wife. Lily, Mr. and Mrs. Pattoo.

Lily:

Welcome to New York and welcome to our home.

Mrs. P: I do declare! I thought when we left that little ole Mason-Dixon line we left hospitality behind us, and here y’all talk like you’ve known us all…

Mr. P:

(JUMP) Alright, Emmy. Well, what are you women-folks standing around for? Get in the kitchen.

Agnes:

Well I got the beds all—oops—they’re here huh?

Lily:

This is Agnes.

Mr. P:

Well, well. And am I having the honor of meeting the fair daughter of your family? Mighty beautiful.

Edwin:

Beautiful? My dear Mr. Pattoo, (with southern accent) I do declare you are stretching southern chivalry to the breaking point. (normal voice) This is Agnes, our maid.

Mr. P:

Well, what are you women-folks standing around here gassing for? I’m hungry. My stomach’s hollering, “Send it down, boys, send it down.”

Lily: Dinner is …

Mr. P:

Y’all going to eat on the Pattoos tonight. Just like I said in our letter. Emmy Mae, fetch me the suitcase.

Edwin:

Suitcase?

Mr. P:

Yes sir. We brung our own vittles. Here you are, Mrs. Goodheart. In this suitcase we got all the makings for Emmy Mae’s Dixie Goulash. It’s chock-full of hog jowls, turnip greens, hominy grits, fatback, chit’lings, black-eyed peas, and for flavoring, a couple of squirrel heads. Careful when you open it up, honey, been riding on top of the bus for two days, might be a little high. What’s the matter, Uncle? You look a little green?

Edwin:

(moans) I’ll be alright.

Mr. P:

Can’t wait to wrap your gums around it, eh? Tell his missus how to make it, Emmy Mae.

Lily:

Let’s go Agnes.

Agnes:

Okay. You don’t mind if I eat the suitcase.

Edwin:

Git, Agnes.

Mr. P:

Now, let’s sit down by the fireplace, like we said in the letter, and sing some of them oldies but goodies.

Edwin:

Well, I’m afraid I…

Mr. and Mrs. P:

(singing) “In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginny, on the trail of the lonesome pine…”

Music

SFX:

dishes and silverware clinking

Mr. P:

(laughs)Now that was a meal! How about it, Mrs. Goodheart? There’s still one squirrel head left.

Lily:

No thank you.

Mr. P:

Why honey, you didn’t taste enough to keep a boll weevil crawling. Hey, whatever did happen to Uncle Goodheart? He swallowed one mouthful and took off like a hound dog dipped in turpentine. Don’t explain it to him, Emmy.

Lily:

He’ll be out in a minute. Agnes, will you clear the table?

Agnes:

Clear it? I wouldn’t touch it.

Mr. P:

Ah, here’s Uncle.

Edwin:

Eh, excuse me. I’m still a little shaky. L-Lily. Would you step out here.

Lily:

What is it, Edwin?

Edwin:

Lily, we’ve got to get them to sleep.

Lily:

Edwin, after that meal they put down, they can only stay awake another few minutes.

Edwin:

Lily, we’ve got to put them to sleep.

Lily:

Well, do your Hamlet soliloquy. That hasn’t missed yet.

Mr. P:

(yawns)

Edwin:

Shhh. Look, I saw him yawn. I’ll go back.

Mr. P:

(yawns) Mighty tired after that meal.

Edwin:

Take this easy chair. Just sink into it.

Mr. P:

(yawns)

Mrs. P:

Usually after dinner Stonewall usually just sits around sucking on his teeth with his belt off and his stomach just a growling, and growling, and growling…

Mr. P:

Alright, Emmy. Say, how about another song.

Mr. and Mrs. P: “Camptown racetrack six miles long, doo-dah, doo-dah…”

Edwin:

Wait. You just relax. Let me read you my philosophy like you said in your letter. Ever hear of a writer called Shakespeare?

Mr. P: Shakespeare? Can’t say that I have. But Emmy Mae here, she was a high school teacher in Hemlock Hills. Emmy Mae, you ever hear of Shakespeare?

Mrs. P:

No, but I declare, we used to do a heap of reading out of the Sears-Roebuck catalog…

Mr. P:

(JUMP) Alright, Emmy.

Edwin:

Agnes, will you play the melodeon the studio sent out?

Mr. P:

Just like we asked for in the letter.

Edwin:

Go ahead, Agnes. Stand by with the pillows, Lily.

SFX:

organ music of Lullaby

Mr. P:

(over music) Mighty purty. Isn’t it, Emmy Mae?

Mrs. P: Um-hm. Stonewall I do declare that I’m just…

Mr. P:

Alright Emmy Mae. (yawns loudly)

Edwin:

Relax, my dear Mr. and Mrs. Pattoo. Let me read you Hamlet’s soliloquy.

Mr. P:

Watch out, Uncle, there are women in the room.

Edwin: Relax, relax. Listen, listen. “To be, or not to be, that is the question.”

Mr. P:

Purty. Mighty purty.

Edwin:

“Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream.”

Mr. P:

(pause, then loud snore)

Lily:

(whispers) They’re asleep.

Edwin:

Already?

Agnes:

Congratulations. That’s a new record.

Edwin:

Let’s go.

Lily:

No, no. Let’s make sure they’re asleep.

Edwin:

Mr. Pattoo?

Mr. P: (snores)

Edwin:

Mrs. Pattoo?

Mrs. P:

(snores)

Edwin:

That’s it. Lily, the lunch baskets. On to the picnic.

Lily:

Here, Edwin. Let’s go. Hurry, Agnes.

Agnes:

Coming.

SFX:

door closing softly

Mr. P:

Emmy Mae?

Mrs. P: Yes?

Mr. P:

Is the old goat and his wife gone?

Mrs. P:

Yeah.

Mr. P:

Yee-hoo! I thought we’d be hung up with them forever.

Mrs. P:

Aw, Stonewall! You’re a genious!

Mr. P:

Now, listen. Let’s celebrate the Fourth as it should be celebrated. Mrs. Pattoo, if you’ll take my arm we’ll go out and get loa-ded. It’s a glorious Fourth of July! Ye-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!!

Applause

Music

Announcer:

Here’s a word from RCA Victor.

Applause

Announcer:

Listen again next week, friends, to The Magnificent Montague, starring Monty Wooley, the Saturday night transcribed feature on NBC’s all-star festival of comedy, music, mystery and drama, brought to you by Anacin, for fast relief from pain of headache, neuritis and neuralgia; and by RCA Victor, world leader in radio, first in recorded music and first in television. The Magnificent Montague was written by Nat Hiken and Billy Friedberg.

Applause