And now, stay tuned for the program that has rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history. The Signal Oil program, The Whistler. Signal, the famous Go Father gasoline.  For extra driving pleasure, the signal to look for is the yellow and black circle sign that identifies signal service stations from Canada to Mexico. And for Sunday evening listening pleasure, the signal to listen for is this whistle that identifies the Signal Oil program, The Whistler. I'm The Whistler, and I know many things for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. And now the Whistler's strange story, The Hermit. The storm made it all seem ghostly somehow, unreal. Ben's face at the window, the worried frightened look in his eyes. For a moment Harvey Wilson considered giving it all up and heading back to town in the railroad station. But the storm decided this too.  He called out again insistently. Come on, Ben, open up. It's your old friend Harvey, Harvey Wilson. Ben, for goodness sake, I'm just stopping through.  Ben, that's better. I thought you weren't going to let me in. Well, what do you want? You've no reason to call on me, Wilson. Reason, reason. That's the trouble with the world. Always have to find reasons to call, excuses to visit. The old milk of human kindness is almost dry. I was just passing through, Ben. Are you going to let me stand out here till I'm drenched? All right. Come in. Well, nice fire going. Let me move there quick. Better, much better. Harvey Wilson. All right, now really why did you come here? Just let me get this with Kodall. Like I said, it's passing through. Ben, heading up north. Still a salesman. Still on the road, are you? That's right, Ben. Same old line. Yeah, I remember. You think what all the rest of them do, don't you, Harvey? What? How about the money? All that money I'm supposed to have embezzled. You'd know plenty about it, Harvey. You talked to people from the company, heard how they fired me. Ben, that was years ago. It's not too many years ago. I know what you're thinking. That I've been afraid to spend it and I still haven't. I think no such thing. You always were a sly one, Harvey. Just passing through. Just took you this long to find me, that's all. Ben, let's get one thing straight, right away. I don't think you had anything to do with taking that money. Yeah. You don't believe me, do you? I'd like to. I'd like to think somebody will believe. But you don't. Go ahead, say you don't. I can see you, Ben. I know you. Maybe you do, Harvey. I think I know you. Always did. You haven't changed much. Certainly not around the eyes. Still eager, aren't you? Now, let's be friends. It's only for a few hours. Till morning, eh? You want to stay overnight? You really don't mind. I do, but it's all right. I'll put you up, Harvey. Just this once. Ah, there's a good friend. You're all right, Ben. I always knew it. And you won't be sorry. No, sir. Well, Harvey, you found him. Your old friend, Ben. He's living like a hermit here, isn't he? Afraid to spend the money he embezzled. But you're sure he has it, aren't you? And that it must be hidden somewhere in this old house. You wait a couple of hours after he shows you upstairs to a room. Then when you're sure he's asleep, you let yourself out. Slip quietly down the hall to the stairs. The fire is still throwing a good light. And you move around the room, searching systematically. Checking the floorboards, the walls, when suddenly... Ben. Yes, Harvey. Your friend, Ben. You believe me. You're like all of my relatives, the people who work with me. Stay away from me, Ben. Oh, you're getting out of here. I'm putting you out. Ben, I warn you. Put it down, Harvey. That's my collection, my collection. I'll use on you. We put it down, I say. I'll put it down all right. Harvey, no! You put the heavy book end on the table. Stare down at the floor where Ben fell. And you realize he's dead. That you killed him. It's a terrible feeling at first, isn't it? And then you begin to wonder if you didn't expect something like this from the first. You want that money, don't you, Harvey? And you came here to get it. You can stay as long as you wish now, without worry of interruption. With an effort, you drag Ben's body behind a heavy sofa in the far corner of the room. Then go over to the fire again. You're standing there alone when you suddenly hear footsteps. Who is it? Who's there? Huh? Who... Front door wasn't locked. I... You just walked in? I didn't mean to startle you, but the rain was... Uncle Ben. Of course you don't remember me. I wouldn't remember you. I was a child when... You're... Joan Benton, your niece. Uncle Ben. Yes? Didn't you get my telegram? Telegram? Yes, I sent it yesterday, Uncle Ben. I've... I've come to spend a week with you. As Jimmy Duranty would say, everybody wants to get into the act. At least judging by the number of limericks you whistler fans have been sending in since I started reading them a few weeks ago, a lot of you are certainly getting a kick out of the idea. So to make it even more fun, we're going to send a signal coupon book good for $20 worth of signal gasoline to every whistler fan who sends in a limerick that I read on this program. I understand this is not a contest. That $20 signal coupon book is merely a token of our appreciation of your interest. But your real fun comes later after your friends hear your limerick read on the whistler. If you'd like to try it, just write a five-line limerick about signals famous go farther gasoline. Such as this. There once was a driver named Archibald Fry, who bought the wrong gas, and of course he ran dry. Said he in disgust as he missed the last bus. Next time it's signal go farther, I'll buy. On your limerick, be sure to print clearly your name and address and then mail it to this address. The Whistler Signal Oil Company, Los Angeles, California. Signal, signal, signal gasoline. Your car would go far with go farther gasoline. And now back to the Whistler. It's a shock, isn't it, Harvey? The suddenness of it all.  And now Joan thinks that you're her uncle Ben. And she's come to spend the week here at the house.   Carefully, you get her out of the living room and show her upstairs to a room. Now, Harvey, you've got to move Ben's body. You decide on the cellar as the safest place. It's a struggle moving him that distance, but you manage it. Carry him into a small furnace room down there. And you close the door of that furnace room, step back carefully, avoiding some freshly dug holes for new water pipes, and then... Huh? Who is it? Joan, I thought I said... Don't come down here. I'll be up. Fine thing bursting into my house, wandering around. Just trouble, that's all. Relatives just trouble. Uncle Ben, please. Can't we go in and fix the fire and talk a while? I'm just dying to talk to you, Uncle Ben. Please. All right. For a while, Joan. We'll talk. You didn't count on this, did you, Harvey?  The girl wants to talk, and not just for a while, like she said. Only fortunately, she does nearly all the talking, and it fills you in on Ben's family, his brother, Joan's father. Still, it's hours almost dawn before Joan finally decides to go to bed. Then you continue the search, and you wonder about Joan. Why she came here after not seeing Ben since early childhood? Wonder if her parents know she's here. She seems a nice girl, doesn't she, Harvey? Young, exciting. You almost wish you could talk to her, see how she would react to the truth. And you're still wondering about it as you hear the clock striking in the front hall. 6 a.m., and you've found nothing. Wonderful breakfast, my dear. You're an excellent cook. Thank you, Uncle Ben. I did have a little trouble getting everything together. You know, finding things. I didn't want to disturb you. Very good jam, Miss, don't you think? You must be terribly fond of jam, Uncle Ben. Goodness, I never saw so many jars in any one cellar. Cellar? Why, why yes. That's where I got this jar. Shouldn't I? Oh, it's quite all right. I couldn't find any jam in the cupboards here. May I have the sugar, my dear? Here you are, Uncle Ben. Yes? What's going on in the cellar? What? The floor. All that digging, those holes. Oh, that, I... Well, I've been having some trouble with the water pipes, you see. Oh, I thought it was something like that. More toast, Uncle Ben? It was close, wasn't it, Harvey? And later you have cause for more concern. Writing a letter, my dear? Just a note to Mother. You know how she worries. Promise I write as soon as I arrive here. Telling her all about your trip, eh? That and about you. Oh. Joan, my dear. Yes? I wonder if I might add a post-cript to your mother.  Just a few lines at the bottom of the letter, if you don't mind. Of course I don't mind. Here. You have no intention of adding just a few lines. No. It's just a precautionary measure, isn't it, Harvey?  But you're quite safe, aren't you? It's just the type of letter you'd expect a girl like Joan to write. The, uh, having a fine time variety. And she's quite lavish in her praise of charming Uncle Ben. Very good. Here you are, my dear. But aren't you going to write anything? Such a beautiful letter. What could I say? Why don't you just add, Uncle Ben says hello. Hmm? Well, all right. That evening, the opportunity to continue your search of the house presents itself. It's difficult to do much during the day, isn't it, Harvey?  You leave Joan at her bedroom door, say goodnight, and then hurry down the hall to your own room. Sitting in the darkness, you wait till finally the whole clock strikes eleven. You tiptoe down the corridor, pass Joan's room, hurry down to the library. As you're about to open the door, you hear someone moving about inside. Looking for something, my dear? Help you? I hope you don't mind going through your desk like this. I was just looking for some writing paper. I seem to have used all mine. I see. Have you found any? Yes. Here. It's all right if I take it, isn't it? Of course, Joan. Of course. Thanks. Well, goodnight again, Uncle Ben. Good night. As you watch the girl hurry from the room, the thought suddenly occurs to you.  Yes, it's possible she isn't really Ben Masters' niece at all. That she knows about the money too, and is here to get it. You wait patiently until you're certain that she's sound asleep. Flip quietly into her room. Locate her suitcase and take it out into the hall. Inside you find a letter. A letter addressed to Mrs. Paul Gates. Yes, Harvey. Mrs. Paul Gates. Not Joan Benton, the name she told you. Another name. The following morning, after another night of fruitless searching for the money. You're starting down to breakfast when you overhear Joan talking softly to someone on the telephone. You hurry forward, quietly straining to listen. No, he doesn't suspect a thing. I've got to ring off now. He may hear me. Yes, I'll be careful. Bye. Dartled me, Uncle Ben. Oh, sorry. Have a nice sleep? Not too nice? No. Oh, nightmares? Is it something? As a matter of fact, it was a nightmare, Joan.  Not really my niece at all. Oh, really? Fantastic thing. You were here to steal my money.  Uncle Ben. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm frightening you. That bacon smells good. Would you like scrambled eggs this morning? Fine, Joan. Fine. You watch her closely during breakfast, but she betrays no sign of fear. Breakfast over, you leave her in the kitchen, hurry down to the cellar and continue your search for the money. But the money isn't to be found.  What are you doing, Joan? Just tidying up. You shouldn't be moving that heavy furniture, child. Oh, it's nothing really. You don't mind, do you, Uncle Ben? My sort of taking over, doing things. I'm afraid you're not a very good housekeeper. No, don't suppose I am, Joan.  If she's really looking for the money. Cleaning house gives her the perfect opportunity to search each room carefully.  After she's gone, you begin to move the pieces of furniture back into place. And then it happens, suddenly, quite by accident. As you slide a small bookcase into place, one of its edges strikes the wall sharply. A section of the paneling gives away and swings back on rusty hinges. Quickly, you slide the bookcase out of the way and then you see it. The small wall safe, unlocked and empty. Joan got here before you didn't, she Harvey. You whirl around, hurry from the den, and as you step out into the hall. Oh, Uncle Ben. You stop suddenly. Joan is standing by the front door and there's someone with her. Uncle Ben, this gentleman's car ran out of gas. He wondered that he might use the phone. I want to call the signal station down the road. Well, of course, my dear. Right ahead, young man. The lucky thing for me, I stalled practically outside your door. It's hard to disturb you. Quite all right. You turn, walk back into the den and close the door, trying to act unconcerned.  You slip into a raincoat, hurry outside. At the car, you find the key still in the ignition. You turn it on. The gas gauge shows that the tank is half full. And then something else, the registration on the steering post. Paul D. Gates. I knew it. Yes, you're certain, aren't you, Harvey? Paul D. Gates, the girl's husband. Her partner in a clever roost to take Uncle Ben's stolen money. You consider taking the car and running. But the thought of the money holds you. You came here for it, didn't you? You're going to get it at any cost. The man at the station is sending someone out right away. You don't mind if he waits here a while, do you, Uncle Ben? No, no, no, of course not, my dear. I'm sure they'll be along soon. You know, hurry anyway. I'm rather enjoying the conversation that you need. Well, get on with it then. You don't mind if I sort of horn in, do you? Well, I... no. No, of course not, Uncle Ben. You sit back in the easy chair, watch them closely. Listen to them make idle chatter. They're clever, aren't they, Harvey? Cool and clever.  You're certain that Joan has the money. You're just waiting for the opportunity to slip away. But they're not going to, are they? And as the minutes tick by, a plan begins to take shape in your mind. Finally, you decide to put your plan into operation. Joan, my dear, perhaps the gentleman will enjoy a cup of tea. I'm sure I would. Oh, don't go to any trouble. Oh, it's no trouble at all. I'll just be a few minutes. Smoke? Yes, thank you. Good cigars, these. You'll like them. Have them made special. Light? Thank you. Hey, this is a good cigar. Glad you like it. Say, are you by any chance interested in Chinese art? Well, I never thought much about it one way or the other. But I must say you do have some beautiful things here, sir. I think so. Now, take this pair of bookends, for example. Ever see anything like one of these? They're beautiful. They're heavy, too. Yes, quite heavy. A friend of mine sent them to me from... Oh, isn't that the service truck from the gas station? What? Out front, you can see it there from that window. Where? I don't know. You stoop quickly to drag the unconscious Mr. Gates out of the way and then freeze, fascinated as you stare down at the floor. The bookend Harvey from old Ben's collection. It smashed as you dropped it after striking Gates a glancing blow. And you see that it's filled with currency and large bills. So you found old Ben's hiding place. He did take the money and hide it. And now you have it. Look, a Ben. Huh? Oh, Joan. It's all right. You can drop the act now. What have you done to him? Your friend is out for a while, my dear. The money? You have it? Yes, most of it. I imagine there's a good deal more on that other bookend. No wonder they were made so large. I don't understand why you hit him.  Or rather, Mrs. Paul Gates. Yes, clever. But you don't fool me one bit. What? You and your Mr. Gates. I suspect it from the start.  This money is mine. And I'm keeping it. A word to gamblers. I mean those of you who are gambling with your own life and the lives of your passengers by trying to squeeze that last thousand or so miles of wear out of smooth, old tires. You know, of course, that smooth tires are unsafe. They don't stop as quickly. They skid. And they puncture or blow out more easily. In fact, records show that in one year almost 6,000 vehicles involved in fatal and non-fatal accidents had either punctures or blowouts. But so much for what you stand to lose. The next question is, what do you save by gambling on old tires? Well, right now the answer is nothing. In fact, it's actually costing you money. Because now signal dealers are giving today's biggest trade in allowance for old tires. What's more, the lead tires your signal dealer is now selling are made of coal rubber, tough and still further, with patented fill black O, and actually give 30 to 40 percent more wear than ever before. So it's just penny wise and pound foolish to keep driving on smooth old tires. It's time to find out how little it will cost to trade your unsafe old tires for safe new lead tires at Signal Station now. It's time for the showdown, isn't it, Harvey? And you congratulate yourself. You were smart enough to see through her plan, weren't you? You're certain she was after the money. That she planned to get help in taking it from you. Sent for her husband and partner, Paul Gape. But he can't help her now, can he? You've taken care of him, he's unconscious. And now you're going to take care of Joan. You watch her as she stares at you puzzled. So, you did take the money. You had it all the time. Not all the time, my dear. Yes, you did. I believed you told everybody at home that you were too nice to have stolen anything ever. What are you talking about? Paul is my husband like you discovered. We were passing through town and I decided to look you up. Now, don't give me that, you came for the money. Here, what are you doing? I can make him more comfortable while we talk. Poor Paul.  All this mistrust in the world. I thought mother and dad and Uncle Frank were all wrong about you. They're stubborn like when they disapproved of my marriage to Paul. I thought we were too misunderstood people. That's why I looked you up.  It isn't an act, not with me, only with you.  You see? Phone them. You, you'll ask someone else to come here. Here's the whole family. Mother, dad, my brothers. I thought we'd have a reunion. I'll try to understand one another. That's why Paul was stalling you, waiting for them to get here. Just a minute, don't come in. Yes, all of you, come in. Mother, dad. What's all this? What happened to Paul? Uncle Ben did it, dad. Uncle Ben? He hit him. Knocked him out. He thought we were after his stolen money. But where is he, Joan? Where is Uncle Ben? What did you say?  If this man isn't Uncle Ben, I... I can't tell you. You'll have to ask this imposter. Or maybe... In that case, we better call the police. Let them ask him. Let that whistle be your signal for the signal oil program, the Whistler. Each Sunday night at this same time. Brought to you by the signal oil company, marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil, and fine quality automotive accessories. Signal has asked me to remind you to get the most driving pleasure, drive at sensible speeds, be courteous, and obey traffic regulations. It may save a life. Possibly your own. Featured in tonight's story were Ed Begley and Betty Moran. The Whistler was produced and directed by George W. Allen, with story by Ben S. Hunter, music by Wilbur Hatch, and was transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. The Whistler is entirely fictional, and all characters portrayed on the Whistler are also fictional. Any similarity of names or resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Remember, at this same time next Sunday, another strange tale by the Whistler. Your announcer has been Marvin Miller. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.


I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. From the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Severick, come many of the incidents in this unusual story. Here is our star, Dana Andrews as Matt Severick, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. Love, be I. Love to a dedicated red is the business of the idol.   In a moment listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Severick, Undercover Man. Matt Severick, Undercover Man. This story from the confidential file is marked Rich Man, Poor Man. You can take place anywhere, in the loft on a dark street, perhaps or in your neighbor's rumpus room, in the rear of a candy store or in a fashionable penthouse. This meeting was held in the home of our star leader, David Bowden. Good news, comrades, delightful news. The plum has been chosen for our exalted course. The fat, ripe, juicy plum. His name, the name of our plum, the irony delights me, simply delights me, his name is Jules Jordan. The same, a millionaire with a social conscience, publisher of that great liberal weekly, open thought. Comrade Bowden. Ah, Comrade Sebetty, you look worried. For this man, as Jules Jordan, with his bourgeois conception of liberalism, I don't trust him. Comrade Sebetty, Jordan is obviously a capitalist who fears the inevitable revolution. We have been assigned to put his millions to work for the Red Master Plan. In the past few weeks, I've made it a point to become friendly with Mr. Jordan, quite friendly in fact. He now comes to me for advice on the editorial policies of his magazine. One liberal to another, that sort of thing. You work fast, Comrade Bowden. This assignment is my responsibility, Comrade Sebetty. It's success, it's my success within the party. It's failure. There can be no failure. Good. Good. I'll need competent, trustworthy assistance. You will help me. Comrade Bowden, I'm honored. Will you pass the menu, please? Hmm? Oh, here you are. There's red on the M. Red on the C. You're losing weight, man. It's understandable, isn't it? I'm not suspecting you, Addy. I don't think so. I just got a new assignment. Assistant to our cell leader, David Bowden.  Oh, that's a new twist. A red millionaire. How come they picked Jordan? His magazine, for one thing. They'd like to print it in red ink. What about Jordan himself? He's a perfect patsy. Young, naive. Worried about doing some good with a doughy inherited. He thinks he's a liberal, but the Comys think he's a chump. They started work on him, yes? Bowden's become real palsy with him. He's even advising Jordan how to run the magazine. Ouch. And the next step? Just run the magazine. When does the FBI step in? You better wait. There may be more to this than I know. I'll keep in touch. You're bound to have trouble when half of you is communist, and the other half is human being. My communist half was supposed to consider Jules Jordan a wealthy chump, a sucker to be despised and exploited. The human half of me, however, couldn't help feeling he was a decent, honest guy. As I grew to know him better, it was easy to understand his two greatest loves, his wife Jane and his weekly magazine. Listen to those presses, Matt. Beautiful music. Beautiful, beautiful music. You're sure it isn't just plain noisy, Jordan. Pretty presses are supposed to be noisy. Let the whole world know how important they are. Can't hear you. Never lie. Come out of my house. Good idea. There's something I want to talk to you about. Oh, you and Bowden have been hatching up another improvement for the magazine. I can feel it. Come on in. Thank you. Are they wrong? Bowden tells me that Harry Renear fired George Krebko. Krebko? Krebko, Krebko. Oh, him, young, incompetent writer. I understand he's a red. He was recommended by Bowden, you know. Well, heck, David can't help it if the man wrote bad editorials. But Renear never consulted us. Harry's the editor, Matt. He has the right to fire a man who can't do the job. This might interest you, Jude. Krebko has been unable to find work since he left here. No kidding? It's that bad, huh? He has a wife and three children. Gosh, three kids. And the reason George Krebko can't find work is that he's been branded a communist by your editor, Harry Renear. Well, is he a communist? Why not ask Mrs. Krebko and the three kids? Look, Matt, if there's anything I can... That's strictly between you and your conscience, Jude. See you later. Ah, Matt, you were superb.  I heard it all on the speaker. You followed instructions to the letter, comrade. Thanks, comrade Bowden. Tell me something. Does comrade Krebko have a family? Of course not. The Jordan will never know that, will he? It made me sick just thinking about it. But evidently, the germ that had been planted in Jude's Jordan's conscience took effect immediately. The following night, David Bowden and I were invited to dinner at the Jordan home. Jude was his usual genial self, lighthearted, gracious, charming. His wife Jane was charming too, but cold. Cold as ice. What's the matter, Janie? You don't seem to be with us. Oh, I guess my mind was wandering. Which way, Mrs. Jordan? To the right or to the left? Politics again. Very strange. Strange? Yes. Other men talk about their families or baseball or that terrific weekend in Atlantic City I'm sorry, Jules, have you read any good books lately? Not you. You and Mr. Bowden seem to be impaled on one subject. Politics. The revolt of the masses. Jane, I invited them here to talk politics. I'm sorry, Jules. Must be the woman in me that objects. As for the revolt of the masses, Mrs. Jordan... I said I'm sorry. Here's what I had in mind, gentlemen. After Matt left yesterday, I did a lot of thinking about what's his name, the fellow who was fired. Krebko. Yes, Krebko. I'm sure that Harry fired him on the basis of his ability alone, but still, if he's been branded a commie... He's been unable to support his family because of it. And that bothers me, it really does. I'd like to do something for Krebko. I can't help feeling responsible. Why stop at Krebko, Mr. Jordan? What do you mean? I think David means that there are many individuals in this country today who are being persecuted for their views. Krebko is just one of thousands. Well, I can't really help thousands. Why not? Why not? Well, after all, I... After all, what, Mr. Jordan? More dessert, anyone? After all, what, Mr. Jordan? You, Mr. Setic? No, thank you.  Now, isn't there some place he can go for financial help? Legal aid? Well, there are a few organizations. None that has been set up specifically for that purpose. There's no fund as such available to unfortunate victims of political persecution. You know something, folks? I'd like to set up that fund. Jewels for heaven's sake. We could call it something like... Oh, a fund for freedom? American Liberty Fund. How's that? Hey, that's great. American Liberty Fund, dedicated to the preservation of security for the individuals, something like that. You probably want a charter from the government. They're hard to get. Jewels, how do you expect to get a charter? You're considered a fellow traveler. You've been hanging yourself on the party line for years. I've told you a million times they can consider me anything they please, but they can't consider me a commie. It's just unfortunate that some of my ideas coincide with the red. Unfortunate is right. Well, certainly, Mrs. Jordan, you'll agree that the man of your husband's means should have no trouble securing a charter. This is a mercenary world, you know. Money is influence. The remainder of the evening was miserable. While Bowden and Jordan buzzed and fussed over plans for the American Liberty Fund, Mrs. Jordan burned withering glances across the room at knee. Finally, after a small eternity, it was time to leave. I paused in the open doorway to button my coat. Mr. Svedik. Yes? I'd like to ask a favor of you. Of course, Mrs. Jordan. Believe it or not, I've never interfered with my husband's work before, but you and your friend have changed all that. Let my husband alone, please. Go away and let him alone. Are you afraid of losing him to a greater cause, Mrs. Jordan? Is our influence stronger than yours? No. No, it isn't. I won't let it be. I think I love him more than you love that... that greater cause. Coming, Matt. I'll be right there, David. No need to make a contest of this, Mrs. Jordan. Some things are inevitable. Like the revolt of the masses? Exactly. It's a difficult thing to be hated by a beautiful woman. But in this case, there was one consoling thought. If Jean Jordan could hate me violently enough, she might prevent her husband from becoming ensnared in the Communist Web. That Web, by the way, was being drawn tighter and tighter about him. The Charter for the American Liberty Fund was granted before I could have my FBI contact stop action on it. And then my red cell leader, Bowden, produced a new element, something I had hoped to be able to avoid. I want you to listen to this. Perhaps you wondered why I mistrust that Harry Renear. I recorded this conversation in Jules Jordan's office this morning on tape. Those hidden microphones are invaluable, aren't they? Standard procedure. Very practical. Listen. Those two friends of yours, Jules. The place is crawling with reds. Relax, Harry. You're getting giddy. Giddy. Giddy. Wake up, Jules. Check up on your personnel. Check up on the content of your magazine. No matter what measures I take, the stories come right out from under Stalin's mustache. I've been expecting this from Renear for some time. You need these things yourself, Jules. If you'd spent less time with that American Liberty Fund, what should be about that? Have you noticed where that money is going?  I see what you mean about Renear, comrades. But I think he feels a need here. He keeps things in proper perspective. Renear is dangerous, comrades. He will please see that he's eliminated. Why? How? Anywhere you see fit, as long as it's quick and lasting. For the FBI and the second act of our story, you will enjoy these reports, I'm sure. First of all, the American Liberty Fund. Contributions from our inadvertent alive, Jules Jordan, have brought the total up almost 200% since its inception. Of its expenditure, 70% has gone out as direct aid. Direct aid, mind you, to members of our party. This, of course, will increase as time goes on. Comrade Sabetik, will you report on the progress made within Mr. Jordan's magazine? I'm happy to announce that, as of today, 65% of the personnel on open thought are actively contributing to our exalted cause. The editorial policy is now closer than ever to the party line. In fact, some of the more reactionary American congressmen have already hurled charges against the magazine and Mr. Jordan. A question, please, Comrade. Yes? Aren't we defeating our purpose by calling attention to our success within this magazine? Comrade Gordon. The subtleties of the plan have escaped you, Comrade. We're more interested in Jordan and his millions than in his magazine. Yes, but how can we get him into the party?  My dear Comrade, Jules Jordan doesn't realize it yet, but everything he touches turns red. His magazine, his American Liberty Fund, his companions, his employees.  This will become more and more evident as our pressure increases. Then the final dais cast, Mr. Jordan, will have no place to turn for sanctuary but here, among his comrades and fellow workers in the Communist Party.  Thank you, Comrade Gordon. Good. And you, Sabetik, have you arranged for the elimination of Harry Renier? Yes, tonight, Comrade Gordon. Tonight. Gordon wants me to liquidate Harry Renier. Who's he? Editor of Open Thought. He's too suspicious of us. Can't you get out of it? Funny man, it's got to be done tonight. Tonight? You've got to help me. All right, start talking. I've arranged to pick up Renier at his home at about 10 o'clock. I'll drive out Highway 14 to about three miles. To me, it's pretty late to be visiting, Mr. Jordan. Jules and sisters on having the meeting tonight, Harry. You know how he is. Yeah. But what's the big rush? I don't know. Something about red infiltration on the magazine. Well, maybe the boss is waking up at last. That car back there has been behind us since we left the office. I hadn't noticed. Funny. That car is still back there. I'd swear it was following us. You've got the jitters or something? I don't know. Maybe. Say, isn't it taking us a long time to get to the Jordan's? Same as you, Jules. Oh, what are you turning here for? Hey, hey, wait a minute. We're nowhere near the Jordan's. Sit down. What is this? Where do you think you're... Be quiet, William. Nothing is going on. I don't like it. I'll stop the car. Let me out of here. Sit still, Harry. You'll get hurt, hurry. I don't understand. You won't for a while. Take care of him, boys. See that nothing happens to him, Beaker. He'll be all right, man. A little confused, but safe. At least a coming knuckle gang won't get to him. How about you, man? What are you going to tell your little red team-mates? Lies. After working with them this long, it's easy to lie. Especially to them. Admiral Sedetti, do I understand you correctly? You turned Harry Renier over to the FBI? That's right, Comrade Borden. I planted some false credentials in his desk and reported him as a Communist agent. A Communist agent? A... A... Ha ha ha ha ha ha... Oh, dear. Dear me, delightful, delightful. Harry Renier. A Communist agent. Comrade Svetik, you have a delicious sense of humor. The irony appeals to me. to me. Delightful. I'm glad I'd comrade. Now, now we must swing into action. We must report this news to Jordan then. To Jordan? Of course. He'd be very broken up about it. Renier was his closest friend. He'll need us to advise him more closely now. So closely that we'll be running the magazine. After all, how can Jordan trust his own judgment? His best friend turned out to be a communist agent. I hadn't expected this at all. Bowden was using my plan for Renier's safekeeping to bring about Jules Jordan's downfall. There was no time for me to undo what I'd done. Only one chance was left. Mrs. Jordan, I had to make her hate me. Her influence over her husband was strong. I knew that. The best way to put this influence to work was to make her hate me violently, bitterly. I don't understand it. I... I just can't understand it. Harry. He was always such a sensible guy. I've known him for years. He just can't be a red agent. I won't believe it. Thanks, Mr. Jordan. No matter how brutal they seem. But Harry's the last guy in the world to... I don't know. I don't know. Reason, Jules. Reason. Emotion is useless at a time like this. You're not being much help, Mr. Settler. Would you mind, fellas? I... I think I'd kind of like to be alone for a while and figure this mess out. Please go. Jules is awfully upset. But the logic is so clear. So crystal clear. We know now why your friend, René, tried to turn you against... Yeah, yeah. Okay, okay. This explains why he disagreed with our editorial suggestions. Why he accused us of planting reds on the staff when he was the biggest red of them all. All right, all right! Mr. Bowden, will you please let Jules alone? It's important that your husband realize these facts now, Mrs. Jordan. It's important that you both let him alone. Can't you see he's upset? It's okay, honey. It's okay. This display of shabby sentimentality is certainly a poor substitute for reason. It may be poor, but it's the only one we've got. Now get out of both of you.  Not yet, Mrs. Jordan. Indeed not. Your husband must realize his responsibility to his employees, his readers, to the ideals his publication stands for. Ideals whose ideals? His, Harry's, or yours? Ours, of course. All others are mere delusions. Get out of here.  Honey, honey, take it easy. Let them up. They've been right all along. They can handle it better than I can. Come on. Your magazine can't... Let's face it, honey. Who am I to tell them what's right and wrong? I can't even pick my friends. At least I know David Madder right thinkers. Thank you, Mr. Jordan. We'll go now. Jules, for the love of heaven, listen to me. Jules, please. Please, you've got to listen to me. Hemret Smithick, I can understand now why Jordan had so much affection for these presses. Now that they're ours... Ours? In spirit, Fleet. And soon the rather broken spirit of Jules Jordan will be ours, too. Good to be commended, Comrade Bowden. Well, thank you. You won't mind if I take full responsibility for this project, will you? Not at all. You deserve it. Interesting how the humiliating prospects of failure seem less sinister from a pinnacle of success. What's happening down there? The presses, they're stopping. We've got to see what's wrong. Nothing's wrong, gentlemen. They're just not working anymore. The presses are out of business. And so are you. Oh, what's that mean, Jules? As of right now, the magazine known as Open Thought is closed. Finished. Dead. Finished? Dead? Well, I... You can't... What's the reason for that? I have a wonderful wife, Sevetik. She explained a few things to me. How you run a self-respecting magazine right smack into the mud. How you sacrifice my best friend. How you try to break up my home, my friends against me, ruin my reputation with that American Liberty Fund. By the way, that stopped when the presses stopped. But if you do all this, Jordan, what will become of me? Didn't know you cared that much, Bowdoin. I've never been sure what your angle was, but it doesn't make sense. Nothing made sense since you went into my life. So you may go now. But this means failure. Failure means annihilation. The magazine is dead. The American Liberty Fund is dead. As far as I'm concerned, you're both dead. Get out. Dead. I failed. Bye, Jules. Oh, Sevetik. Yes. Just to keep your ego where it belongs, my wife mentioned that she hates the ground you walk on. So do I, Jules. So do I. It goes on and on and on. The hating, the bitterness, the chaos of mind and soul. Bowdoin is gone now. He never appeared at another cell meeting. The Jordans? They're around somewhere nursing their bruised ideals. Harry Reneer is free and safe. But none of them can ever know the real story, the full story.  The ground I must walk along. Our star, Dana Andrews, will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews with a word about the story you've just heard. And this story has in all others names, dates and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these stories are based on incidents in the life of Matt Sevetik who worked undercover for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us, won't you?


It's not making your life the best. It can be how do you make your life the best? What is the thing that if you if you What is the one thing that makes us human? The what is the tool that makes it possible for us to live a good life or any life of that? Money no, where's money come from?  What is it that makes it possible for us? So for example, where do we the food come from and don't say the supermarket, please Where's food come from? What's that farm labor, right? Listening to too many Marxist Farming animal labor not labor from farming right now. Do you have the gene for farming?   I mean all of us not just you me too. We have no claws.  We beat out everybody. We are Top of the world in terms of nature. Nobody comes close. We're not afraid of nature at all We have tamed nature. How do we do that? What did we do use? our eyes our reason a rationality capacity to think Thinking is what makes us human Reason is what makes it possible for us to survive and to thrive and succeed Nobody has the instinct to build the skyscraper It takes enormous amount of knowledge to build the skyscraper and enormous amount of thinking Never mind build a beautiful skyscraper Which takes a whole other set of skills, but it requires this The human mind to be self-interested To live for your own life to figure out what is the best life you can live for yourself Means they use your mind To think to figure out how to live well how to find your own profession how to find your life you know Boyfriend girlfriend spouse How do we every aspect of our life make the most of it not settle not compromise live fully? By using our reason to guide our actions And so we know we know that when we get into trouble usually it's because we didn't think It's because we followed emotions. We followed desires, but we didn't really think it through and Thinking it through is what self-interference really is Thinking it through according to Iran is what morality really is so if you want to be a moral person according to Rand According to the objectives philosophy if you want to be a moral person If you want to be a good person if you want to be a virtuous person the most important thing you could do is use your mind Use your reason so problems So far as I do math it means the problems that you face as a human being in surviving in existing In thriving in the world in which we live. That's what self-interest is. That's what morality is about Morality should be about Teaching us every one of us as an individual how to live the best life that we can live What are the principles we should live by with reason as the main one? What are the principles we should live by in order to live a good life morality should be about dying and suffering? It should be about living and being happy It should be about the tools that make that possible Giving us the tools to make that possible the virtues and values That make life the best that it can be for you and those are objective tools because we're now Some principles apply to all of us the same for example using your reason


And thank you for the honor of inviting me to appear here to commemorate the significant accomplishments and well-deserved retirement of the honorable Nettie C. Vogel as a justice of the Superior Court. I begin by cautioning you that my comments this evening are no match for Nettie Vogel's extraordinary career and the impact that she has had on the court, the bar, and women she has unsubstitiously mentioned. It has been quite a ride. In 1993, before many of you and probably all of the Monales here this evening were even born, the Rhode Island Constitution was amended. Legislation was enacted, creating an independent judicial nominating committee commission, the manner in which judicial vacancies were filled was transformed. There were four vacancies on the Superior Court for the first set of vacancies. 19 names were submitted to then-governor Sunlin. He submitted four names to the Senate for confirmation. Nettie Vogel was the only woman on them. She was sworn in on September 24, 1994 in his served court and the people of Rhode Island for 28 years, more than the lifetime of the same prior referred to one else. My remarks this evening concerning Justice Vogel's remarkable career are respectfully directed to the law students and the young women lawyers among us. Because one cannot discuss the career of Justice Vogel without reference to her commitment to women, especially young women lawyers. Some of you may not realize it, but there was a time not so long ago when women were strangers to the legal profession and were looked down upon by some and with obvious hostility by others, particularly in the courtroom, which of course is where Nettie Vogel headed straight away from law school graduation. Many of us believe that it is important to acknowledge the struggles experienced by those who blaze the trails and wrote down the barriers of gender bias, not to commemorate, but because we recognize that there still are real challenges and struggles ahead for today and tomorrow's women lawyers at some level. Gender bias, women who wish to practice corporate law. Transactional law are excluded or have difficult ways.  Nobody knew that better than Nettie Vogel on the Superior Court. There were women who blazed trails into male-dominated territory. Nettie Vogel was in the forefront of positive change because she led by example. In 1975, her law school graduating class consisted of only 10% women. We just heard it's 57% today. Welcome aboard. Acutely aware of the sparse female population of law students throughout the country who were women, Nettie was active in social causes that promoted women and has remained so to this day. At the start of our careers, many women, including me, came to public service. Hiring opportunities were more abundant, and public service was a surefire way to get into the courtroom, not Nettie Vogel. She joined a well-respected civil litigation law firm as its first and only female associate, Thunny Lafazia, and knives. And she made certain she wasn't fed to the grunt work of her male colleagues who tried and didn't get away with it. And what I consider to be a courageous move in the mid-1970s to lead me, she brought the issue to a senior partner and to his credit, he assigned her her arm caseload. That was emblematic of Nettie Vogel's drive and perseverance and her refusal to take a backseat. She was off and running. Now the world of insurance defense is a tough arena. Nettie Vogel deftly deflected the insulting, misogynist behavior of the men that she encountered. There are many women here, neither she nor I nor many of us, who can even count the number of times that we will refer to as honey or sweetheart of deer, or worse, by opposing counsel and sometimes judges. Just as Vogel's response was, save those terms of endearment for someone with whom you are intimate. How I wish I was there. This petite, fashionable, dignified, spitfire of a lawyer gracefully burned verse rights. Making sure this behavior was not repeated one lawyer at a time. Ice State Civil Litigation was where Nettie Vogel cut her teeth. She was the first woman to have back-to-back jury trials in Superior Court and the very first lawyer to try a case before a jury in maternity clothes, which she quite obviously needed at the time. Long before her appointment to the bench, Justice Vogel was a familiar figure in the hallways of the Leach Judicial Complex. She was respected by her male colleagues and revered by the women at the bar. She headed the first civil litigation law firm to represent insurance carriers, represented by women, which in itself is a monumental achievement. To appreciate the complexity of these cases, stand your ground, be willing to go toe-toe in front of a jury, know full well what's at stake was Nettie Vogel. However, as remarkable as these achievements were, Justice Vogel was widowed at a young age with a child. Raising her daughter in some ways was her greatest achievement. Georgia Vogel Rosen, who is here today, served as my law clerk and as my close friend. Nettie's insight, values, and integrity are well known and they are reflected in the shining face of her daughter, who was also a single mother, who was gifted Justice Vogel with a beautiful granddaughter, a third generation of strong women with the brightest of futures. And we all know that if Nettie has anything to say about it, that child will worship Tom Brady, the Boston Red Sox, and the Olympatriots. It is my belief that Boussaint's greatest legacy as governor was the cadre of sterling judicial appointments that he made. Frank Darigan, Alton Wiley, Judy Savage, Nettie Vogel, Mike Silverstein, Ed Clifton, and Steven Fortune Autumn. From this galaxy of judicial giants, Nettie Vogel was the last shining star to retire. Of course, just like her first job at Gunning, LaFazia, when she was appointed to this, when she was first appointed, she was assigned to the civil side of the court house. She indicated to presiding Justice Rogers and decided to try her hand at criminal matters. And again, she was off. She had a two year stint in the Kent County Day with criminal calendar, which was not an easy assignment. Without qualification, she became a great criminal trial judge. She knew the law and she knew the score. If you appeared in her courtroom, you were treated fairly and with dignity, but she was in charge. If she had an opinion about an issue, it was based upon experience and probably had a statute or a reported case to back it up. It was never about her. In her appreciation for the role of the jury in our criminal justice system was evident to those of us on the appellate court. The accolades surrounding her service in the Superior Court are many. That she was consistently well prepared for the task at hand and that she had high expectations from everyone, but especially herself. She had a masterful understanding of the rules of evidence and everybody in here ought to remember that when you take the bar or if you want to go to court. She had a deep appreciation for the impact of evidentiary error on the fairness of the proceeding. Her wounds were careful, thoughtful, and based on good application of the law. She was not result oriented. Her reputation for fairness is noteworthy and in fact, it is humbling for this jurist. The women judges that she mentioned as lawyers have spoken about how she demanded excellence from them for no other reason than she wanted them to be the best that she knew they could become. After each trial, she generously took the time to go through the high points and low points to help refine their skills. Over the years, I have frequently said that Florence Murray, Rhode Island's first woman judge broke down many barriers and before she marched through, she turned around and beckoned the rest of us to follow. When Nettie Bogle got through a particular barrier, she took a post and she pushed and she conjured many young women lawyers toward their destinies, many of whom are with us this evening. Justice Bogle's contributions towards the advancement of women in the law was recognized by the Rhode Island Bar Association and the Lord of the Florence K. Murray Award. She also received a Neil J. Houston Award in recognition of her service in contribution towards justice and the public interest. Ladies and gentlemen, these accolades are emblematic as well of her service to Roger Williams University School of Law where she devotedly served on the board of directors for nine years. She was an adjunct professor of law at the school and regularly appeared at a panelist on programs for law students. It is feared to say that Nettie Bogle was front and center throughout the meteoric rise of Roger Williams Law School to the fine institution it is today. For that, we can all be grateful. She was an exciting participant in the Law School's project known as The First Women and this inspiring woman in robes event became an annual event, an annual gathering due to her encouragement. Finally, when prompted for advice during an interview in the Rhode Island Bar Journal for The First Women, she offered the following. Work hard, have a good mentor, be curious, be honorable. Remember you are representing the rights of someone else and it's not about you. This is a profession, not a job. Assert yourself against any perceived discrimination or harassment, treat everyone with respect and above all, have integrity. Justice Bogle, you will be missed but you will not be forgotten. I ask everyone to stand and honor Justice Bogle as she comes up to the stage this evening. You can be seated and I'd ask Professor Yolanski to come to the stage as well. So at the risk of mansplaining is a real pleasure and honor to be here tonight to say a few things about Judge Bogle on this occasion. Recognizing that as a spokesperson to the Law School, my predecessor or successor as Dean could easily be standing here because Judge has done so much for this Law School for so long and I just wanna share a few of those highlights. As Justice Bogle mentioned, Judge Bogle served for almost a decade on the Law School's board of directors and I know as law students, when you hear about board service, you like check out and that's what I always thought until I had to interact with the board and what stood out to me about Judge Bogle's service was that she was a stalwart champion for gender, racial and ethnic diversity in all aspects of the Law School's work, nothing changes if people don't speak up and as all of you know who know her and as those of you who don't know learn, she speaks up. I'm proud to be able to tell her tonight, this is a woman who went to the Law School at a time when 10% of the student body was female. The female faculty at our Law School this semester are teaching every section of one out of criminal law, contracts, civil procedure and legal practice. Only men they encounter are those who teach choice. Second, she has been completely instrumental to the success of this event. It has grown as Dean Brown suggested from very humble beginnings in 2000 into what it is today in no small measure because of her engagement with it and for those of you who are wondering whether the women in robes legend is true, I can tell you it is because I was at the table the year Judge Bogle arranged a summer internship for every student at her table before the end of the evening. It was truly inspiring. So it was at the women in robes event in 2017 that she reminded us of the stalled initiative at the Law School to honor the first women admitted to the Rowan Bar and with the help of so many, many of whom are in this room, in March of 2019 the Law School hosted a celebration of those 176 women, many of whom are also in this room and formally installed a plaque in their honor on the Law School atrium, a location that ensures that virtually every student enters the Law School building seated every day. The work that led to that first women celebration led to the discovery of the story of Dorothy Crockett, the first African American woman admitted to the Rowan Bar and to the dedication of the Law School classroom in her honor as well as an annual women in law leadership lecture. Judge Bogle was instrumental in those initiatives as well. And finally on a personal note, in addition to giving me words of encouragement and support when I needed it, which was not infrequently, I will always admire the judge for telling the cleanest dirty joke I have ever heard told in public. And with that, I have some gifts for you. So this obelisk says, in recognition of your career as a trailblazer, the Honorable Nettie C. Vogel, thank you for your dedication to the legal profession, Women in Roads, November 2022. And from Governor McKee, and from Governor McKee, I extend my congratulations to Nettie C. Vogel, Associate Justice for the Supreme Court in appreciation for the outstanding leadership and contributions you have afforded Roger Williams University School of Law students as a leading member of the Rhode Island Judiciary. So I don't break it? I do get you. Okay. I'm gonna tell you, I am so overwhelmed by those remarks. And I'm not kidding. I'm absolutely overwhelmed. Justice Goldberg, Indian Alsthe, I am so overwhelmed by the remarks that for the first time I think in my life after I learned how to speak, I am speechless. I must tell you that I mentioned to Judge Goldberg when I came up here that she now has earned the role of giving my mule a J. I was an absolutely amazing Justice Goldberg. Thank you so much for those words. I just so flattered. I have the greatest respect for Judge Goldberg and I admire her as a trial judge. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated having my rulings reviewed by someone with her background and expertise. And it's true. And my admiration for Judge Goldberg was never diminished by the fact that she's my daughter's favorite judge. And I'm not. I'm not. Dean Yomelski, thank you for your friendship, for your support, your wonderful words tonight. I know of no one who better exemplifies the commitment, the dedication of the administration and faculty of this fine school than you. And I will tell you that for about 30 years now I have had the privilege of observing the evolution of this school from a mere concept to the fine institution it is today, a vibrant school with academic excellence, creative and a school that gives its students real world experiences through community involvement. Whether it is clerkships with the court, whether it's internships or clinics or evenings such as this where you sit with members of the judiciary, members of the bar and you learn from them, you're mentored by them and you get to know them and they give you advice. I know of no school. This school is unparalleled in its relationship with a state, bar and bench. So it's a wonderful opportunity for you. I want to mention Emily Sack and Chelsea Horn because over the years along with Dean Yomelski I have worked with them to make this particular annual evening such a success and it has been such a pleasure to do so. I'm so glad to have had that opportunity. To Emma, where did Emma go? Oh, you're back seated. Emma, dinner scene and your wonderful committee. Thank you so much for the hard work that you spent making this evening possible. I want to thank the law school and the Women's Law Society first of all for hosting this event annually. But what I really want to thank you for tonight is for this incredible honor.  This is an incredible evening for me. I am also so pleased to see so many of my colleagues and members of the bar here tonight spending time with the law students, giving them advice and so forth, getting to know them and yes, find them some internships. I would ask, so tell me about yourself, what are your interests? Well, what are your plans for this summer? And sometimes you find out that somebody is interested in the family quarter, whatever and you kind of work with them, give them some ideas of who they might contact so that they could get an internship whether it was during the school year or the summer. But in any event, I am so glad to see so many of my colleagues and my friends from the bar here. And if at all, if at all to some extent you're here to honor me, I've got to tell you I'm deeply, deeply flattered and I very much appreciate your presence. Like all of you, I look forward to later this evening hearing from the two newest members of the Rhode Island Supreme Court, judges Erin Lynch Prada and Melissa Long. These are two incredibly impressive and talented women and I'm really proud to say that they are friends of mine. You know, as I look out, I see not only my colleagues and my friends from the bar, but I do see some people who I have the privilege of mentoring or to some extent. I mean, I see Judge Keough. Now I know Judge Goldberg would say she's Goldberg trained, but I think I also had something to do with the mentoring. And one of my very first law clerks is here, the clerk of the Supreme Court, Deb Saunders, who was Deb Knapp, when she clerked with me for two years in 1996 and 1997 in Newport County. And it was such, it was so much fun. I really enjoyed that so much. You know, about, I guess, over 21 years ago, I was assigned to handle the civil calendar in Kent County. And Carol Farnoli, who was sent Deb to me in Newport, sent me a young man to be my clerk. Carol Farnoli was then the head of the law clerk department and served in that capacity for many years. She said, we're building on Team Junior. I was used to having women, I'll be honest with you, but I thought I'd give the fellow a try. You know, as Humphrey Bogart, said at the end of Casa Blanca, now I realize a lot of you don't know what they're talking about. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and that friendship has only grown over the years.  And if I could just share just one little story. Back then, we were talking about a couple of decades ago, I was also an adjunct professor here teaching advanced evidence. And on the first class of every term in the middle of the class, Gil would come in and walk right up to the desk and steal my handbag and he'd leave. And the students were like, whoa, what just happened? And then I would ask them to describe those things. And it was a wonderful experience and an experiment in eyewitness identification because their descriptions were all over the line. And I just want to say, Gil, my handbag is right over there. Mr. Georgie, don't take it. I'm thrilled to have my daughter, Georgie Boga-Rosen here this evening. That's mean so much to me. Georgie is my friend. She's my confidant. And the more mature of the two of us. I must say that I feel very, very fortunate to have her as my daughter. Not only because she has given me the joy of my life, my granddaughter, but for other reasons as well. On an evening such as this, on evenings of similar joy, I reminded of my father. And if you just allow me to finish by mentioning him, my father, George Bogle, I named Georgie after him, came to this country as a youngster, one of 10 children. And he held three jobs down to work his way through law school. He was my first mentor. And although he died when I was 19, his influence remains with me today. And I can't help but think how incredibly proud he would have been to be here tonight because I am so very proud. And I thank all of you for honoring me this evening. And I really look forward to the rest of the evening. Thank you.