Lux presents Hollywood. The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Lana Turner and Thierry O'Mont in Crossroads. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Lana Turner was a high school girl sipping a chocolate soda at a drugstore counter and perhaps thinking about the latest Clark Gable picture. When someone, not an astronomer, walked in and discovered a new star. But there was no mistake because she was soon to see herself on the screen co-starring with Clark Gable. Three years ago, one of the leading screen actors of France left the Paris sound stages to command a tank in the front line. He won the Croix de Guerre. When France fell, he made his way to America by way of Morocco and Lisbon. He began all over again in a strange land, and today, Thierry O'Mont is a star once more. These two adventure stories join tonight as Lana Turner and Thierry O'Mont co-star in the Lux Radio Theatre. Lana has just finished making Slightly Dangerous over at Metro Golden Mayor, and they're expecting great things at the same studio for Thierry's new picture, Assignment in Brittany. Tonight, we're presenting them together in another Metro Golden Mayor screenplay called Crossroads. There's a great thrill in discovering a new star, and that thrill is one of the things we try to give you as often as possible in these dramas which Lux Toilet Soap brings you each Monday night. When a star clicks, nobody has any doubt about it. If you'd seen Lana Turner's screen test or Thierry O'Mont's, you too would have predicted stardom for both of them. I suppose I've seen at least 3,000 screen tests during the past 30 years. About half of them were girls, and most of them were very beautiful. Almost the first thing a producer or director observes in a screen test is whether the girl has a good complexion. If not, she has two strikes against her at the start, but girls with a Lux complexion always score a hit. But it's time right now for the first act of Crossroads, starring Lana Turner as Lucienne and Thierry O'Mont as David Talbot. The time I speak of was before the war, France, in the year 1935. Or is it only 8 years ago? It seems so much longer. I married three months then, and I thought the pairs had been made just to mirror my happiness. Where it was so game, so full of light, there could never be tragedy there, or so I thought. Nothing but laughter and dancing and music. How wrong I was. My name is Lucienne Talbot. My husband was David Talbot at the Foreign Office. He was young and brilliant, well on his way to becoming an ambassador. He used to joke about it as if it didn't matter, or what we both knew how much it meant to him. And then one evening, just before dinner, the letter came.  I remember telling him I had a surprise for him in the dining room. What do you mean, close my eyes? Well, close them, and no peeking, David. All right. Well, what happens now? Right over here, please. Now, open. What's that? What does it look like? I baked it myself, with a little help from the cook. A kid? But what is it for? For darling, it's your birthday, of course. With 91 candles. No, no, no, of course not. Let's see, 91 candles, 91 days. Or we have been married three months. And you forgot. Darling, I'm so sorry. Well, don't speak to me, I despise you. Darling, would it help if I kissed you? Well, it might. Look at me. Did I tell you this morning I'm a very happy man? Yes. Oh, did I? And did I tell you this evening? Uh-huh. Oh. Well, it must be true, hm? Oh, David. Excuse me, Madame. Yes, Albert? Madame, this package came for you this afternoon. A package? Well, let me have it, Albert. And, Monsieur, this letter was delivered at the door just a few minutes ago. Thank you, Albert. Darling, it's a bracelet. With accompaniments of the groom.  Oh, no, you told me. Oh, David, it's lovely. Did you pick it out yourself?  Darling, you'll always be a bride. David. Hm? Wait a moment, dear. Tell me something. When does a bride become a wife? David. David, what's the matter? This. This letter. What is it? Who is it from? I don't know. Here, read it. Dear Jean. Oh, well, that's not for you. It's addressed to me on the envelope. Go on. Well, it says, um, allow an old friend to congratulate you on your noble career. Accept my good wishes for a happy life with your bride. You are now able to pay me that old debt of one million francs. Read the rest of it. May I suggest that you deliver the money to the old, deserted farm, Santé Road. Road over the wall at 11 tonight. I'm sure you will understand the reason why this letter must remain unsigned. But what does it mean, David? I have no idea. What are you going to do? Well, there's only one thing I can do. David, I'm frightened. David took the letter to the police. If only I could have seen into the future that night. If only I'd known what it would mean to us. We could have paid the money and perhaps never been troubled again. As it turned out, David went to the deserted farm on the Santé Road. But the police were with him. There they found a man, a withered, misshapen creature named Le Duc. Within a week, the man was brought to trial. Carlos Le Duc. You've been brought to the bar of justice charged by the state with extortion. You're accused of writing an anonymous letter to David Talbot in which you asked repayment of a debt in the amount of one million francs. Mr. President, the defense will prove that the letter written by my client was a straightforward request for money owed him and not an instrument of extortion. Mr. President, the prosecution will prove that no such debt existed. A creditor does not request payment by asking that money be thrown over a wall in the dead of night. At least my creditors are not so imaginative. Your creditors might be if you are living under an assumed name and they were considerate enough to help you keep your deception a secret. The court would like to know to whom you refer is living under an assumed name. If the court will permit my client to tell his story, my reference will become clear. Very well. Michelle Le Duc, will you tell the court, please, when you first met the man called David Talbot? I met him in 1919, right after the war. In those days his name wasn't Talbot. Then he was known as Jean Peltier. Jean Peltier? Yes, Monsieur. He was a petty criminal with a list of crimes charged against him as long as a bell roped. I claim the court's indulgence. But what has Peltier's record to do with charges against this defendant? It seems quite clear that if a previous relationship existed between the defendant and Monsieur Talbot, whatever his name may have been, there is a possibility that the debt actually existed. Proceed. There was one great talent this Peltier had. A talent for escape. He was never caught by the police. It was in 1922, three years later, that he came to owe me a million francs. It was a decent debt. What were the circumstances of the debt? I regret I'm not at liberty to give further details. Maybe Monsieur Talbot will explain. D'accord. Thirteen years passed, and I'd never heard of Jean Peltier. Then one day, about three months ago, I saw his picture in the paper. It announced his marriage to Lucien D'Cordier. I realized that Jean had changed his name. But whatever his game was, I had no wish to spoil it. All I wanted was my million francs. What had started out to be the trial of an extortionist suddenly became the trial of my husband. While the Duke was testifying, they would set staring at him, a puzzled frown on his face. The expression of a man who was trying desperately to remember. The spectators in the court leaned forward to catch a glimpse of him. They were so willing to believe the worst. So anxious to assume that the Duke was speaking the truth. But we had one friend, Dr. André Tessier. And when he was called to the stand, I noticed that David seemed to relax. You're Dr. André Tessier? I am. According to the court records, you first became acquainted with David Talbot in 1922. Yes, that's so. When he was brought to my hospital at Avignon. That was a few days after the wreck of the Paris Marseille Express. That was a great disaster when a train hit an open switch. We're familiar with the details, Monsieur. Proceed. Well, I examined him and I diagnosed his injuries as a spinoid fracture with an attendant subdural hemorrhage. One moment, please. Would the learner, Doctor, be kind enough to explain these scientific terms? Just what do they mean?  Thank you.   My office is at 41 rue Torrance. Continue, Doctor. Continue. Yes, I will continue, indeed, I guess. David Talbot was very strong. In a few days he recovered consciousness, but I discovered that the damage to the brain was greater than I thought. It was complete amnesia. He knew nothing of his life up to the moment he awoke. Really, Doctor? And how did you know the patient brought was David Talbot? He was identified by whom? By the captain of a freighter who brought him from Martinique. Captain Maurice Durand. He died a year later in a wreck of Naragaska. Then only one man identified the patient, Doctor. David Talbot had never been in France before. There could be no one else. And that man is dead. Un-portunate, isn't it? Go on, Doctor. Under careful and prolonged treatment, David Talbot became normal in every respect except one. Memory.  Have you any further evidence to contribute, Doctor? No, there is nothing more to tell, except that during these years I became David Talbot's friend, as well as his physician. I know his soul as well as his brain. And to say that he is a criminal is rubbish. That is all, Doctor. The attorneys had not finished. They called another physician to the stand. A man who claimed that no case of amnesia could ever be proved genuine. The court listened and believed. Once again I saw the doubt across their faces. The newspapers had the story now. Monsieur Talbot has been mentioned as our next ambassador to Brazil. The people of France are entitled to know the background and character of their servant who aspires to a high place. Perhaps we shall learn something from Monsieur Talbot himself when he takes the stand this afternoon. David on the stand, his face was drawn in pain. His nerves drawn taut by the ordeal. But outwardly he seemed quite calm and confident. Monsieur Talbot, you have just told the court that the first time you ever saw the prisoner Le Duc was at the preliminary hearing. Yes, Monsieur le Président. Then what is your explanation of the death to which the prisoner refers? I have none. It's a fantastic piece of fiction. Monsieur Talbot, can you tell us where you were on the night of March the 27th, 1922? Of course. I wasn't the Marseille Paris Express. How long had you been in Marseille before boarding the train? Two days. I arrived from Martinique on the 25th. How do you know? How do I know? You heard Dr. Tessier testify that the captain of the freighter identified me. Yes, but I also heard Dr. Tessier testify that there was a veil between you and all that happened prior to March the 27th, 1922. That is correct. Then how may I ask, can you possibly remember having been in Marseille? Well, I... I don't remember. I was told. Oh, you were told. Then you will be kind enough to explain to the court if you can remember nothing prior to the accident. How can you remember that you do not owe one million francs to my client, Carlos Leduc? What is the point of the Defense Council statement? Only this. That we will prove that Jean Pelletier was also on that train. That David Talbot perished in the wreck and that the man brought to Dr. Tessier was not David Talbot, but Jean Pelletier. Silence! Silence! Sir Talbot, have you made any effort to trace your origin or to forge a link with your past? Monsieur le Président, I have made every effort. That I was aboard Captain Buons ship has been well established. He said I came aboard at Fort de France, Martinique. Three years ago, I went back there. I... I found nothing on the island that I could recognize. You found no relatives or friends who knew you before your accident? None. The name of Talbot was unknown in Martinique. It must be very disturbing to know nothing of your past. Well, not really. Not when one's present is so very crude. I assume you refer to your position in the Foreign Office. And to my wife. Monsieur le Président, may the state examine Monsieur Talbot, please. Of course. Monsieur Talbot, what are your duties at the Foreign Office? The gathering and correlation of information from our agents abroad. Are government funds allocated for that purpose? Yes. Do you know where those funds are kept? In my office, largely. Now, would you be betraying a government confidence in telling the court the extent of those funds? Well, it varies from 500,000 to as much as 5 million francs. These funds are in your hands? Yes. In other words, it is a position of great trust. I suppose so, yes. Thank you, Monsieur. Monsieur le Président, all this is quite beside the point. The clear fact that a witness occupies a position of trust is no proof of his integrity. Many criminals have occupied positions of trust for years before committing their embezzlement. Monsieur, I protest this. I've been summoned to this court as a witness for the state. The defendant's attorney is treating me as if I were the prisoner. Monsieur Talbot. I demand that he confine his examination to the really soon. Or that I be formally indicted and given an opportunity to defend myself. Your point is well made, Monsieur. The court will give it all due consideration. Next witness, please. Madame Lucienne Talbot. Madame Talbot, do you swear to speak without hatred, without fear, to give the whole truth and nothing but the truth? I do. Madame Talbot, when did you first meet your husband? Three years ago. At the home of the foreign minister, Monsieur de Val. At that time, were you aware that Monsieur Talbot was a victim of amnesia? Of course. It was no secret. And you have never had any reason to doubt your husband's identity? Why should I doubt his identity? He is my husband. I am proud to be his wife. Madame, tell me, have you any positive proof that your husband actually is David Talbot? Positive proof? No, I haven't. I see. Then the reason for your confidence is based on nothing more than the faith of a woman in love. Do you know a better reason, Monsieur? I... That will be all, Madame. Thank you. The trial dragged through another day. Following morning, a woman was brought to the court. As she passed, she didn't even glance at David, but the jurors turned and stared at him. She was tall and well-dressed and was very beautiful. We discovered later that her name was Michel Alain. And what is your occupation, mademoiselle? I'm a singer at the Serene Club. Mademoiselle Alain, do you know or did you know a man by the name of Jean Peltier? Yes. Where did you meet him? At the races. What was he doing? Gambling on the races. What else? You, uh, were in love with him? Yes. Mademoiselle, when did you last see Jean Peltier? On the night of March 27, 1922. Where? At the railway station at Marseille. What was he doing? He was boarding the Marseille Paris Express. And you never saw him again? No. Will Monsieur Talbot step forward, please? This way, Monsieur. Just stand right here. Thank you. Mademoiselle, who is this man? Come, please, come. He calls himself David Talbot, but who is he? He... he is... Well, the truth, please. He is Jean Peltier, the man you loved, isn't he? Yes. Yes, he is. I've never seen this woman in my life. The court will decide that. Be seated, Monsieur. Mademoiselle, can you tell us anything about Peltier that might identify him, a scar, a birthmark, some individual habit? No, no, nothing. Nothing peculiar about his hands? Why, no. Oh, yes. Yes, there was something. He always wrote with his left hand. Monsieur Talbot, with which hand do you write? I... I write with my left. Just a moment, please. There is a mistake. I must speak. Dr. Tessier, you have not been called a doctor. What sort of evidence is this? A left hand. Of course, David writes with his left hand. When he was brought to me, his right hand was crushed. Paralyzed. I taught him to write with his left hand. Your information will be weighed along with the other evidence. Please sit down. That afternoon, a note was given to the prosecutor returning. He glanced at it quickly and then brought it over to where we sat. When David had read the note, he looked up in a puzzled way and then handed it to me. It said, I have vital information bearing directly upon this case. I ask permission to present the evidence, documentary evidence pertaining to it. The note was signed, Henri Sarou. Your name? Henri Sarou. Occupation? Wine salesman. Give the testimony, please. Well, I... I've just recently arrived from Africa. On reading the papers about this case, I ran across the name of Jean Peltier. And immediately, I felt it was my duty to testify. You see, for many years, I've represented my firm in North Africa. Four years ago, I became ill. I was brought to the hospital in Sidi Belabis. In the bed next to me lay a man dying of fever. I felt sorry for the poor fellow. I talked to him. I gained his confidence.   Bad friends, a woman, fevery. The usual rode down. Two nights later, he died. But you referred to documentary evidence. I did. I have his papers here, which the dying man gave me. His name was Jean Peltier. The trial was over. And the man with Duke sentenced to a year in prison. A week later, we gave a party, David and I, to celebrate the end of our travels. Darling. Yes? Te amo, ma querida. Oh, thank you, David. But what does it mean? Why, that's far too good. It means you are lovely. You are beautiful. I love you. That's a rough translation, of course. Oh, well, not so very rough. Pardon, monsieur. A gentleman has arrived. Oh, why, it's monsieur Sarou. Oh, how nice. Madame, I'm very happy to see you, monsieur. Oh, you're having guests. Please forgive my bad manners, and calling you such an awkward moment. Or at least have a glass of champagne. Well, I... Oh, please do. I can't impose on you like that. It's no imposition. Albert, another glass, please. We tried to look you up, but you're not in the phone book. I wish you'd found me, Madame. Paris is the wrong city in which to be alone. I'm sure of that. To your very good health, monsieur Sarou. Thank you. We are very deeply indebted to you. I wish there were some way we could express our gratitude. Oh, really, monsieur. Madame, to your happiness. Madame, monsieur Martin has arrived. Oh, you'll excuse me. Of course. I went to the door to greet our guest. As we stood there talking, I glanced back at David. I knew immediately that something was very wrong. David looked as if he had just received a blow on which Sarou was smiling. I could not hear what was said. I learned that long afterwards. I'm sorry, monsieur, but... What was it, you said? I said that I admired your nerve. But you called me zonk. And why not? That's your name. Jean Poitiers. At the British Commission, we'll hear Lana Turner and Pierre Omon at two of Crossroads. And now, greetings to our young friend Sally. May I ask what that paper is in your hand, Sally? Mr. Kennedy, I have written a poem. Well, well, Sally, that isn't like you. Must be because spring is right around the corner. Okay, go ahead, but be quick. But first have you heard this one. She's always in a lather. That's why your skin's so nice. Sally. It's a luck-so-plather, you see, Mr. Kennedy. Sally, either you read that poem right now or else. Well, it's called To The Ladies, and it goes like this. If you'd be pleased with your reflection in the mirror, lady, mind, just be sure that your complexion is a luxe one, smooth and fine. That's no poem. That's a jingle. There's another verse, though. If you want to be attractive, rouse the love-light in his eyes, use the lather that is active, give your skin a care that's wise. That's all, Mr. Kennedy.  Well, then here's why, very briefly. Luxe toilet soap, you see, is made of only the finest ingredients. Its lather is luxurious, creamy. That's why it's right for delicate skin. Why it cleanses thoroughly, but very gently, too. Nine out of ten screen stars use luxe toilet soap daily. So why don't you try this gentle care for 30 days? Use it as screen stars do. Smooth lots of the creamy luxe soap lather well into your skin. Rinse with warm, then cold water, and dry with a soft towel. Do that several times a day, always at bedtime, and see what a difference it makes in your skin. It'll feel softer and smoother. Look lovelier, too. Get some fine white luxe toilet soap tomorrow. Now our producer, Mr. DeMille. Act two of Crossroads. Starring Lana Turner as Lucienne, and Pierre Omont as David Talbot. There are many things I can tell now that I didn't know at the time. When everything was over and I could bring myself to think of it again, I pieced the story together bit by bit, incident by incident. When Saru came to our house that night, I didn't know why. But I remember the look on David's face. I remember that they left the drawing room together. They went to the library on the floor above. We can talk here, Mr. Saru. Splendid, Jean. Why do you insist on calling me Jean? What's your game? It's no game. Why have you come here? What did you want? I want one million francs. Really? Why should I give you one million francs? Because you're a man with such a delicate past that to talk about it would cause you great embarrassment. You know, that was a wonderful moment in court when the defense attorney asked you, Mr. Talbot, where were you on the night of March 27, 1922? What would you have answered if he'd said, where were you that morning? That would be a difficult question, even for a man with a memory. Oh, yes, I forgot. You've lost your memory, haven't you? Please forgive me. Well, I haven't lost mine. I remember where I was that morning. I was in Marseille, and with my good friend Jean Peltier. It was a cold morning that March 27. I remember the old messenger wore ear muffs as he stepped out of the bank, carrying rather a large briefcase. He climbed into the taxi and ordered the taxi driver to take him to the Crédit Lyonnais Bank. What are you trying to tell me? I also remember that the taxi driver turned up a crooked little street, where, for no reason at all, the motor stopped. Suddenly, the old messenger had visitors. The doors on either side of him opened and two men stepped in. They ordered him to hand over the briefcase. But the old man was brazed. He decided to fight. So one of the men drew his gun and shot the old man squarely between the eyes, and he fell to the floor of the taxi. Oh, he was very, very dead. But then, of course, you don't remember. By the time the crowd had gathered, the two men had gone, and so had the briefcase, which contained two million francs. And the taxi driver, a man by the name of... What was it? Oh, yes. Le Duc. Le Duc, you mean? Yes. And when the police questioned him, he suddenly had a slight attack of amnesia? Yes. He couldn't remember that one of the men was myself and the other, the man with the gun, was you. You are lying. This is blackmail. Since natural, you should take that attitude. But it doesn't frighten me. Le Duc wasn't frightened either. He's now in prison. Le Duc is a bungler. I should never have entrusted him. Or Michelle, with such delicate business. I realized that during the trial. That's why I came to your rescue, my friend. At least Le Duc had the decency to accuse me of being a petty criminal. Now it seems I am also a murderer. You still don't remember, Jean? Oh, really now. Try hard.  It was rather deep. Deep enough, I imagine, to leave a scar. May I see the back of your left hand? Get down with it. Oh, come now.  We're friends. At least we were friends, weren't we? Remember, we were supposed to meet you in Waterdam about three weeks after you killed the old man. But you never got there, Jean. You skipped, didn't you? And with our share, one million francs. I said get out. All right, my friend, I'll get out. It'll give you time to think things over. But please don't think too long. Because I may grow impatient. If I do, you'll hear from me. In some way or other. Good night, Jean. Give me the prefecture of police. Yes, I won't. No. Wait. Wait. Never mind, I'm sorry. It's a mistake. When I went to the library, I saw David sitting at the desk by the telephone. He was staring down the scar on the back of his left hand. It was a week later that I had a visitor. David was working late at the office, and Albert announced that a lady had come to see me. When I went downstairs, I recognized her at once. It was Michelle Elaine. The woman who testified at the trial. What do you mean? How do you do, madame Salvo? I hope you remember me. Yes, I remember you. May I sit down? Oh, please do. Thank you. I suppose you're wondering why I came. Well, I am rather surprised. Well, you see, I felt it only fair to you and to myself to justify what I did at the trial. You said my husband was Jean Peltier. Yes. I wonder if I can make you understand, madame. It must have happened to you, too. You're walking along the street, perhaps, or sitting in the park. Suddenly, your face appears.  Well, all at once, the impression is gone. Well? Well, that's what happened in the court. It's been on my conscience ever since. My only excuse is that he was so much like Jean Peltier. Hey, madame, I have Jean's picture in this locket. I've kept it for years. Look, madame. Why, that's... Well, that's almost... You see? You see how closely your husband resembles him? Yes. They are very much alike. Oh, the locket, please, madame. Oh, I'm sorry. Here, thank you. Well, I'll go now, but I felt I owed you a personal apology. Well, you're very kind. I'm sorry your husband wasn't at home, but perhaps we'll meet again sometime. I'm at the Sirene Club. Maybe you'll drop by some evening. Well, thank you. Please come. I should like to show him the picture, too. Will you have some more coffee, darling? I think there's still some left. Thanks. I think I'll take a little cognac. Cognac? But, David, you never drink cognac? No, I just feel I'd like it tonight, that's all. Oh, busy day, darling? Yes, very. Well, come and sit down next to me, and I'll tell... Come and sit down next to me, and tell me all about it. Did we have our usual cabinet crisis? David? Oh, I'm sorry. Oh, what's wrong, David? Is there something worrying you? Oh, no, no, I was just thinking. What were you seeing, dear? Oh, I just asked if we had our usual cabinet crisis today. No, no, we have them only on Fridays now. Oh, I forgot. You know, darling, sometimes I sit here at home, feeling sort of useless and unnecessary. Then I think of you and how important your work is, and I think, well, I'm his wife, and if he's important, so am I. And then my ego's all fixed up. You are very nice, including your ego. What was that? Well, just the front door, darling. Oh, I see what it is. Well, Albert will answer it. No, it's all right. I don't mind. Excuse me, dear. He was gone for just a moment. When he came back to the room, he was putting something in his pocket. It looked like a clipping from a newspaper. Nothing. I must leave at once. Something had just come up at the office. I won't be very late. At least I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't wait up for me. Make yourself comfortable. I want to see Saru. Do you? He must have been getting his messages. I received one tonight. Oh yes, yes, the newspaper clipping. He told me. The times of March 27, 1922. Bank robbers, slay messenger, escaped with two million francs. He has a sense of humor, hasn't he? I find it a bit morbid. Did your wife tell you about the picture in my locket? Yes. Yes, I thought she would. Look, Jean, do you remember when this was taken? No. No, I do not. No, but it is you, isn't it? A little younger, of course. A bit more handsome, Jean. Where is Saru? What do you want him for? I want to talk to him. You can talk to me. All right. Every shred of decency I have tells me I shouldn't do this. But I'll give you a check for 50,000 francs. 50,000? Oh, no, sir. Besides, checks make Saru nervous. I can give him cash. Oh, but not that kind of cash, Jean. Not 50,000 francs. No. Let's understand each other. At the moment you have a certain nuisance value. That's worth just so much to me. But don't make the mistake of assuming I believe this peltier story. Why, you think? For 13 years you've lived a lie, Jean.  You must have known that someday we'd meet again. What makes you think you can fool me? I see I've made a mistake coming here. Good night. Wait. You're forgetting something, Jean. Saru got you into that courtroom. Well, he can put you back into it again. But before he does, you'd better provide for those you'll leave behind. It's, uh, not going to help your case.  I have no mother. Oh, no? Well, then go down to the slums. Go to 19 Rue Blanchot and see a ghost. Yes? What is it, please? Madame, may I come in, please? Well, I'm an old woman. I receive no visitors. The hour is late. Madame, I'm in trouble. I need your help. Yes, I see. Come in. Won't you sit down, monsieur? Madame, I have a strange question to ask. Yes, monsieur? Do you know me? Yes, I know you. From the trial, of course, I followed it very closely. Oh. I saw your picture in the papers. I was so relieved when it was over. Why were you relieved? You were in trouble. Ah, Madame Peltier, do you have a son? When he was little, oh, he was a gay one. Always busy as a bumblebee. They grow up so soon. Have you a picture of him? No. No, I had never had a picture of him. Would you say there was any resemblance between your son and me? Some might think so, yes. But to a mother. I couldn't be your son. My son is dead. Everyone knows my son is dead. Why don't they leave the dead alone? I'm sorry. I'm an old woman and I need peace. It's late, monsieur. I must ask you to leave. All your shoes, they're wet. It's nothing. But it's a bad night. You should wear your rubbers. You'll take cold. Madame, I... I hesitate to mention this, but if you have any need of money... Oh, no. No, please. Good night. Good night, Madame. Wait. Just let me look at you. Just for one more moment. Madame. Have no fear. Goodbye. And may heaven take you. My son. Madame! Madame, open the door! Open the door! Yes? Are you still awake, darling? I thought you'd be asleep for hours. Oh, I couldn't sleep. I was so worried about you. You were worried? Why, dear? Well, I... I didn't think you'd be gone so long. I... I called the office, David. Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, but you know what happened. I never got to the office. As I was going into the building, I met one of our men. He just returned from Brazil. So we went around to the club and got talking, and I had no idea it was so late. Oh, David. Oh, darling, I love you so much. Don't ever leave me. Go on, Lucien. What else has you worried? Well, there are so many things, Andre. You're his friend and his doctor. That's why I've come to you. I'm your friend, too. Now, what else? Well, this morning, after David left for the office, it all came back to me again. Maybe Saru's visit that night meant nothing, and maybe Madame Elaine really meant to apologize for what she did in court. But, David, he's... Well, he's so different. He's so changed, Andre. Oh, there's nothing to be afraid of. Your nerves have had a shock, Lucien. You went through the trial so beautifully.  It was a strain, my dear, but that's all past now. There's no doubt any longer, is there? Andre, it's so strange. What is? I love him very much, Andre. There's nothing that can happen to that love. Nothing. And it would make no difference, even if... even if I knew he was Jean Pelletier. Lucien. We pause now for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. In just a few moments, Mr. Turner and Pierre O'Mont will return in Act 3 of Crossroads. Why, Sally, you look very excited. I am excited, Mr. Kennedy, because now is the time we're going to tell everyone about our wonderful Luxe and Luxe toilet soap offer. Go right ahead, Sally. It's real springtime news we've got tonight. It's news about flowers, throwing news. Just think. For only 10 cents and a Luxe opening tab or a Luxe toilet soap wrapper, you get six large packets of flower seeds. The first quality from one of America's leading seed houses. The kind of flowers that are easy to grow and that everyone loves. Exactly what kinds are they, Sally? Well, there are surely poppies, doubles and singles in scarlet and pink. Candy-tuffed, wonderful for borders or window boxes, and cosmos and white, pink, crimson and purple. You know, cosmos bloomed to late fall in a perfect for cutting, and goodness me, Mr. Kennedy, I'm out of breath. Well, I'll come to your rescue, Sally. There are also morning glories called heavenly blue, and you'll find them well-named. Then there are marigolds in vivid shades of gold and lemon yellow. And last but not at all least, there are zinnias called Dahlia flower giants because they give big bushy blooms in almost every vivid color you can imagine. And here's a very important fact. All these six packets of seeds have been specially treated with plant hormones for bigger, earlier flowers. Yes, Mr. Kennedy, these seeds are truly exceptional, and they've been chosen to give you a garden of blossoms that will flower from early summer till frost. Have borders of them around your victory vegetable garden, too. And if you don't have space for a real garden, you can plant gorgeous window boxes with the candy-tuffed and marigolds and morning glories. Now, here's what you do to get your six packets of seeds. Send 10 cents and either a luxe toilet soap wrapper or an opening tab from a box of luxe flakes to Luxe Flower Garden, Box One, New York City, together with your name and address. You can get a handy order blank from your dealer if you wish. For additional seeds, be sure to enclose another dime and either another luxe soap wrapper or another luxe flakes opening tab for each extra set desired. Planting instructions are on the back of each packet. Act quickly, for you must allow two to three weeks for seeds to reach you, and this offer will not be good after May 31st. I'll repeat the address. Luxe Flower Garden, Box One, New York City. Be sure to wrap coins securely and write name and address plainly. No stamps, please. This offer is good only in the United States. Now, Mr. DeMille returns to the microphone. In real life, the arrow mount is on the brink of another great adventure. We'll tell you about that after the play. Now, here's the third act of Crossroads, starring Lana Turner and Pierre Oman. What I had told Dr. Tessier was true. It made no difference what David had done. I loved him. I loved him as David Talbot or as Jean Pelletier. And I would have given anything to help him, no matter what it meant. Well, he must have known how I felt. That's why he decided that he must run away. Lucienne! Lucienne, where are you? In here, darling. Oh, David, aren't you ready yet? We're going to be late at the devours. Yes, I know. Here, look, darling. I have a surprise for you. See? David, our passport? Yes, we are catching the morning plane at Le Gorge. Is it Brazil? Have you been appointed? Well, it isn't exactly official. But I think that privately, you may address me as Monsieur l'ambassadeur. Oh, won't it be wonderful? Darling, just think. Two whole weeks alone on shipboard. Can't we go somewhere and celebrate? Do we have to go to that party? You must, dear. I start to tell you, I just called Martin at the office. He's asked me to help him, and, well, he's done it for me so often that I couldn't refuse him. Well, what can I tell Madame de Valle? It's so late. That's all right. You run along, and I'll join you there later. About eleven? All right. And afterwards we'll do every night spot in the town, from Syros to Maxime's. All right? Yes, darling. Don't say anything about Brazil to de Valle. We must be very surprised when he tells us. Oh, David, I'll swoon. Good. Now you run along. All right.  See you. I shall miss you, too. But it's only until eleven. Yes. Good night, dear. Good night, David. I'll be waiting. Hello? Hello, Jean? Who is this? This is Sarou. Now listen carefully, Jean, and please don't interrupt. All that you are not catching that plane tomorrow. If you try, I shall have the police and Lee Bourget to help change your client. Listen. Don't interrupt tonight, Jean. Come to the club's terrain at ten o'clock with one million francs. And if you don't, I'm afraid you'll find yourself behind bars in the morning. I warned you I might draw impatient. Good night, Jean. Hello. Hello. Sit down, Jean. You're late. I got here as soon as I could. Did you bring the money? I've been trying to get it. A man can't just go to his friends and ask them for a million francs. Then you didn't bring the money? No. You have a very devoted wife. She has jewels. How simple. Can I go to my wife and say, Darling, I am a murderer. Please let me have a million francs. I can. I can say just that. Madame, your husband's a murderer. Just a small loan. Would you mind? Oh, come now, please. There's no sense wasting any more time. Sarou, I want to get you the money. I do anything to have this nightmare off my neck. Believe me, it hasn't been easy for me. Sitting up there in my office handling large sums for the government. Oh, yes. Michel, he handles large sums of money for the government. Go on, Jean. That money isn't mine. That's a thrust from the Republic. Oh, please, no vulgar appeals to our patriotism. No, this is business. Don't you see that they'd know in a minute the safety's in my office. I'm the only one who has a key. Jean, you've forgotten a lot of things you used to know very well. I don't know what you mean. Oh, come now. A man goes to his own office where he has a perfect right to be. While he's opening the safe, he's attacked. Bound and gag. The next morning, he's found by the child woman. The safe has been rifled, but you are completely innocent.  What... What guarantee have I that this is the end? We'll disappear. You will never hear of this again. What about the... the picture, the luggage? You can have that just as soon as we get the money. Shall we leave now for your office? Yes. I'm ready. 11 o'clock came and David had still not arrived at the devouts. At 12, I left the house. I called a cab and drove to his office. Just as the car pulled up to the curb, I saw David entering the building. There were two people with him. Saru, Michelle, Arlene. I paid the driver and waited for a moment undecided. Then I went into the building. The night watchman was there, but he recognized me and let me up the stairs to David's office. When I got there, it was pitch black, but I saw a light flash near the safe. There they were, the three of them. The safe opened, money on the floor. I stood there hardly breathing, and then, without even knowing what I did, I cried out to him, David! Wait, Michelle. Hold the light. It's a woman. David, no, David, don't do it. Don't please don't, David. There's nothing else to do. Oh, but there is. There must be. You're frightened now. I know you are, but I'll be with you. We'll face it together. But can't you see I won't let you do it? I'll tell the police. Oh, no. I leave here with the money or I'll call the police. You can be the judge, madam. Why do you suppose I'm doing this? Would you prefer to see me and the guillotine? Well, what do you want me to do? Help us tie him up. Then you find him robbed, gagged, tied in a chair. The perfect alibi. You give us a chance to get out of here and you can scream as loud as you like, all right? Yes. But remember, you... Wait. Did you hear something? No. I did. Saru. There's someone in the outer office. I saw a shadow. Get the money out this way. The police. The police. Michelle, quick. Don't move. Don't move or we'll shoot. The back way. Hurry. The shot had gone wild, but Saru stood frozen in his tracks. The building was surrounded and there was no escape. They took us to the office at the commissaire of police. Madame Talbot, I hesitate to enter your name in the police book. All front snows your family. Monsieur, my wife has nothing to do with this. I came to my office tonight quite by accident. So you have said, monsieur, now, Michelle Alain, that is your true name, mademoiselle. Yes. Tell me, do you recognize these two men and this lady? Come now, come. You were a witness at the Leduc Trial where Arnais Saru presented the evidence which proved that this gentleman was not a criminal named Jean Peltier. Wait, please. There's no sense going on with this. I am Jean Peltier. David. What's that? On March 27, 1922, I was involved in the robbery of a bank messenger. Oh, don't listen to him. I was also involved in his murder. It isn't true. David, you don't know what you're saying. I do, Jean. Monsieur, you must ignore my husband's statement. It was brought out at the trial that he has amnesia. He can't remember anything that happened before waking up in that hospital. And this murder, this murder was the morning before the Paris Marseille train was wrecked. Is this true, monsieur? Yes. And how do you know you were involved in this robbery and murder? I was told. By whom? By my accomplice in the crime. Henry Sarouk. No, wait. I can't go on knowing that I helped to murder a man, Sarouk. I can't live with it any longer. It doesn't, you told me. I've been tortured by the thought. No, listen to me, Sarouk. I beg of you. And you too, Michel. Let's confess everything and throw ourselves on the mercy of the state. What? Mademoiselle Alain was connected with the crime? Yes. At that time, monsieur, she and I were, well, we were not and just friends, as you can see from this locket. May I have it, please, Michel? It was she who drove me to the station after the murder. No. I never saw this man. Not until the day I testified in court.  Henry, this is murder. You want to go to the guillotine? We have nothing to do with murder. I'll do the talking. You've talked too much already. That's why we're here. The perfect black male crime. It couldn't fail, you said.   Well, he's not Jean Peltier. Peltier was killed in the wreck of the Paris Marseille Express. David. No, I'm... Sarouk and Edith went to the hospital after the wreck. They found Peltier among the dead. While they were there, they also learned that one of the survivors, Monsieur Talbot, was suffering from amnesia. And you waited all these years to blackmail me? He waited until you had something to lose. He planned everything. Even that picture in the locket. It's a fake. A superimposure. Well, Monsieur Talbot, I think we've heard all we need to hear. Henri Sarouk, Michel Alain, I hereby order you to stand trial and decree that you be remanded to prison until such time as you were tried by the state. But it was his idea, I tell you. Sarouk! Come along.  Hysterical? Just wait till you hear me at the trial. Well, Monsieur Talbot, you certainly took a desperate chance. Oh, not really, Monsieur. I knew I wasn't Peltier. David, I don't understand. Was it you who called the police? Of course, darling. But if you knew you weren't Peltier... I didn't know it until tonight. When you left me at home, I felt it was the end of the world. After Sarouk called, I stood looking at our passport pictures, remembering, and then... then something reminded me of this picture and the look. But they weren't the same? Well, for all practical purposes, yes. But do you remember once, just after we were married, Henri Tessier was at the house, we were talking about why I combed my hair on the right side. Yes, I remember. Tessier said when he came to the hospital, it was combed on the left. But your hair had been cut right along the part. And to cover the scar, you had to change the part to the right side. Yes, now look, darling. This picture on the left is supposed to have been taken before the accident. Look at it carefully, dear. What's wrong with it? Oh, of course. The part's on the right side. Exactly. Well, then you knew that this picture must have been taken after the accident. Oh, darling, you're wonderful. When you phoned me tonight and told me to send the police, I thought you'd go out of your mind. Oh, setting the part was easy enough. The problem was how to get Saru into it. Well, how did you do it, David? By two simple little words. Government funds. It took the bait at one gull. Oh, my David, you handle the Brazilian Embassy as well as you've handled this. I'll be very proud of you. In here, madame. Let me go. Let me go. What's the meaning of this? Oh, it's you, monsieur. Good evening, mother. We've had this woman investigated. She is an actress permanently out of work. A friend of Saru's, of course. Why have they brought me here? Monsieur'd tell them they shouldn't disturb an old woman in the middle of the night. Mother, I'm afraid you are a dead pigeon. I don't understand. All I ask is my solitude. That's what you're going to get, madame. Ten years of it. Take her out. Come along, madame. Let me go. Let me go. Lucien. Oh, David. Did I tell you today that I love you? Well, David, remember where we are. But darling, how can I? I have amnesia. A curtain falls on Crossroad. And we are very glad that the paths of Lana Turner and Pierre Armand crossed at this microphone tonight. Thank you, Mr. DeMille. Well, how do you like the Lux Radio Theatre, Pierre? Wonderful, Lena. Now I'll go home and see what my father says. Oh, is he your severe critic? Well, you see, my father was a picture producer when we lived in France, and I think he was listening tonight. Oh, well, you're the first producer, son. I know who took a back seat. No, he's on the right end of the business. Let me know what your father thinks about production, Pierre. I will, sir. And I'd like to thank you now for the welcome you have given me here. You really were very, very kind to me. Oh, that is nothing. Nothing unusual, Pierre. You don't think Lana Turner is unusual? Um, how did I get into this? I think she's beautiful. She is more than that. She is many-fict. Oh, well, you've got me there. Oh, you're just saying that because I use Lux soap. I wonder if every girl knows that Lux soap is a grand way to care for her complexion. Well, you're living proof of that, Lana. Now I must tell our audience that Pierre O'Mont will not be with us in Hollywood very much longer. After he finishes his next picture, he leaves Hollywood to join his countrymen at the front. Those comrades of his and ours who are fighting for the cause of the United Nations. We wish you all the luck in the world, Pierre. Thank you. Thank you, everyone. What is your play next week, Mr. Domingue? Well, I have a telegram here that tells the whole story. It reads, accept with pleasure, invitation for clam-bake and corn roast in Lux Radio Theatre next Monday night. In view of mileage rationing, please send camel to pick us up on road to Paramount. And it's signed, Bane Crosby and Bob Hope. And the play, ladies and gentlemen, well, what else could it be but the road to Morocco? Bane Crosby and Bob Hope will be... will bring us their... their greatest co-starring screen success next week. And with them, we'll present Ginny Sims. Well, I know what I'll be doing next Monday. The same thing as this whole audience. Good night. Good night. Good night. Good night, Ron. Au revoir, Pierre. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theatre presents Bane Crosby and Bob Hope and Ginny Sims in The Road to Morocco. This is Cecil B. DeMiro saying good night to you from Hollywood. Heard in tonight's play were Bradley Page as Saru, Paula Winslow as Michelle and Norman Field, Regina Wallace, Victor Rodman, Cliff Clark, Leo Cleary, Charlie Lung, Fred Mackay and Ferdinand Mounier. Our Lux Radio Theatre production of Crossroads has come to you with the good wishes of the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, the beauty care that 9 out of 10 Hollywood stars use to help keep their complexions beautifully clear and smooth. Our music was directed by Louis Silvers and this is your announcer, John M. Kennedy, reminding you to tune in next Monday night to hear Bane Crosby, Bob Hope and Ginny Sims in The Road to Morocco. Why should food rationing and shortages worry me? I know how to get vitamins and minerals for my family. I just buy VIMS and add them to my ration meals. A great idea. For VIMS give you all the essential vitamins that all minerals commonly lacking. They're a pleasant to take too. Children love them. Ask for VIMS at your druggist. V-I for vitamins. Double M-S for minerals. VIMS. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.


The first time, he only took a tooth. I was six years old and our dog Harley, a Labrador Collie Cross, was dying.  We'd taken him to the vet that morning. I remember sitting in the waiting room holding my rolled up comic and trying to hear the muffled voices of my mother and the vet through the door. She told me years later that they'd offered to put Harley down, but she couldn't go through with it.  I had no siblings and I never knew my father. The three of us were all the family I'd ever known. I prayed for Harley that night, the way a child does. Did you ever do that? Not to anyone or anything specific, certainly not to God. We weren't religious at all. I just prayed, generally, to anyone or anything that would listen. Whispered words under covers. I thought it was something people did when they needed help, you know? Didn't really understand. I often wonder if this was how it all began, offering up such innocent need to whatever was listening. When I fell asleep, I had a dream, unlike any other I'd ever experienced. The dream world, white on white, as far as I could see in every direction, an odd shimmer in the air, distortions which seemed to be forming shapes, but never quite succeeding. Hello. I spun around at the voice. There was a man there, tall and thickly set. Other features are not so easy to recall. To focus on him felt like watching an image on water. He seemed ill at ease in his clothing. I remember that and uncomfortably warm. There was always sweat on his brow or being wiped from his palms. I was surprised more than afraid. At this point, he was not threatening in any way. Indeed, he went out of his way to appear otherwise. I see that now. Your name is Adam, isn't it? His voice was friendly, though a little strained. Yes, I replied. I heard my own voice and became aware quite clearly that I was dreaming. There was the clarity you have when you know something is truth. You're right, you know. He said, bending at the waist to bring his eyes level with mine. This is just a dream, but I am very real and I would like to help you, Adam. He never came too close, just smiled, wiping at his mouth, gaze fixed on me.  Your friend? Very sad, of course, but he met my eyes and brinned. I can help him. Really? Oh yes, but I need a little something from you, Adam. Just a small thing, nothing vital. What is it? He smiled. Your tooth? How did he know, I thought? I felt the loose one in my mouth. It had been that way for a week now. I'd been pushing it around with my tongue all day. But it isn't out yet. I said, Oh, I know, I know. You will need to help it along. Just a little. You want me to help, Harley, don't you? I did, of course. Do you want your friend to live or die, Adam? I can help you, but only if you do your part. Now, before you wake, if you want to save him, you must be quick. You have to do it and hand it to me. He never took his eyes off mine. I thought I could be brave, couldn't I? I could do it to save my dog, couldn't I? I pushed with my tongue until it hurt. It wouldn't be enough. Tick tock, Adam. We're running out of time. I reached into my mouth and got a hold of my tooth between two fingers. Do it quickly. I pulled.  Then something snapped and the blood rushed out, spilling suddenly onto the floor. Here. The man snapped his fingers at me and held out his hand. Spittle was running down his chin.   I woke to the sound of its slippery crunch from between his wet lips. Heart racing, I lay there in bed, mourning light stinging my eyes. I felt for my tooth.  I told my mother about the missing tooth and she said not to worry. I must have swallowed it in my sleep. These things happen. It was quickly forgotten with our happiness over our Harley's recovery. He was there at my bedroom door when I got up, wagging his tail and ready for walks. Everything was good again. I never told anyone about my dream. Stupid. He still died a month later, gone in his sleep, cold by the morning. I found him as I was the first one downstairs calling his name. I remember standing there for a long time, silent, frozen in the moment, watching his limp body and feeling that gap in my mouth. Now, all these years later, I'm watching in silence again. I can't let her see me. I wouldn't want to scare her. Do you understand how you can love someone enough to leave? Every year that passes, I retreat further into the dark away from prying eyes. Out in the world, she lives her life, perfect and beautiful. Every movement and word and moment, the pain swells and blooms inside. And I think I cannot miss her any more than I do. I couldn't survive it. Then another day comes and somehow I do. My mother was in a car accident when I was 18. I see roads, a tired truck driver, blood in broken glass, a phone call. She was in a coma when I reached the hospital, covered in bandages, eyes closed, didn't have long, they told me. I was consumed by regret more than anything. We'd been growing apart for years. All the things I hadn't said and had taken for granted were haunting me. All the things I'd assumed would be there in the future until time ate them up. She gave me unconditional love from the moment I was born and all I had to do was be there for her. Yet still, still I failed. I would have given anything to speak to her once more if only for a few hours, to tell her everything I could and to listen.  After 36 hours, I fell asleep in the waiting room holding a lukewarm cup of tea. Hello again, Adam. You remember me, don't you? The white on white world, the man in the ill-fitting suit. Yes, I remember you. You said you'd save my dog. And I did, did I not?  He wiped at his lips. Heat seemed to radiate from him. Give me a little at a time, Adam. That's how it works. A tooth doesn't get you much. A few weeks for a dog. That's fair. Don't you think that's fair? I... I don't know. Oh, you do. You do. He smiled and wiped his hands on his chest.  So close already. Images of her flooded into my mind, and I was ashamed of forgetting her, even for a second. She doesn't have long, Adam. He wanted me to say it, I realized. Can you help her? Oh yes. Oh yes, of course I can help. What do you want? Tell me. An hour. A few hours with her. My voice cracked as I answered. What? Speak up. I want to talk to my mom. His eyes burned into me for a moment before he looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze. A table had appeared behind me. There was a knife on it. A finger. He said, for an hour with her. He was licking at his lips, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. I couldn't take my eyes off the knife. Just as before, Adam, do it quickly, then give it to me. I didn't have a choice. The knife was heavier than it looked, the pain just as expected. I almost stopped more than once, when it became too much or I couldn't cut through. But I kept going. I didn't have a choice. I'd slumped to the floor, shaking and soaking in sweat, when he took my severed finger. Then he ate it in front of me. I was woken by the sound of someone calling my name. Cold tea had spilled into my lap, and a nurse put her hand on my shoulder. I had to go with her, she said. My mother was awake. I tried to reply to get to my feet, but I was frozen in place, staring at the stump where my finger had been. Staring at the skin, smooth and perfect, as if it had always been that way. I watched her go through her day, from across roads, through windows. I will phone her tonight, but I can't speak, of course. It'll be worth it to hear her voice. It will all be worth it.  I didn't have a choice. When my daughter was one year old, she had a seizure, ambulances and hospitals followed. Tears and sleepless nights for myself and my wife. There is no fear like it. After a week of tests, the doctors invited us in to speak with them. Their words were quiet and kind and stunk of finality. Our daughter would not get better. She had another year at most. They could make her comfortable. There is no emptier place in the world than the future without your child. You would do anything to change it. Anything. I held my wife and stared again at my missing finger, remembering how I'd hit it from people made up lies about an accident. But most of all, I remembered his words. Of course I can help. What do you want? Tell me. That night, I watched my daughter sleeping in her cot, perfect and beautiful. And I knew what I had to do. Eventually, I slept. He was waiting for me in the white. He did not show himself at first.  I heard splashes on the ground, saliva running from his mouth. He cast a larger shadow now than the man I'd seen before. How much time can I buy her? I asked. There was a table in front of us, set with shining cutlery. Many bone-handled knives. Oh, many years. His voice was thicker, heavier. It depends. How much are you willing to give? How long we can make you last? His hand. No, it was no longer a hand. His claw was on my shoulder. But we'll find out. He whispered, Yes, we shall. Within time I would see him as he truly was. By then, of course, it was much too late. He walked past me and picked up a spoon, gave it a tap on the table. Let's stop with an eye. That was fifteen years ago. I had to leave my wife, my family, hide myself away. I couldn't conceal what was happening to me. I couldn't explain. I could only go on. But now my time is running out, so hers is, too. My daughter, I have so little left to give. One eye, one arm, both legs, of course. I've been in a wheelchair for a decade. Teeth, gums, tongue, my voice with them, all gone, eaten away. I sometimes wonder, how am I still alive? If you can call this life waking up hollower than I was after a night of cutting and blood and horror. You don't really need both kidneys. Did you know that? So many organs and bones are not essential. I'm afraid to sleep now. There won't be many more times.  As I lay on that white floor in a pool of red, deadened by the pain, listening to the clink of cutlery and smack of lips, I will tell myself I cannot face this again.


United States. Thank you all very much. Well thank you all very much. I'm delighted to have all of you here this afternoon and I want to assure you all that this is a non-partisan event. Though I hope I can tell one little story that has to do with both farming and politics. Seems that there was a Republican candidate out campaigning for public office in an old Democratic section of the rural south and he stopped by this one farm and the farmer met him and said now you just stay right here I got to go run and get mom she's never seen a Republican before.  So he got up on that and he made his speech and when he finished they said well we've never heard a Republican speech before and he said well that kind of makes us even I've never spoken from a Democratic platform before. Well as I say this is a non-partisan event and I hope nobody takes offense. In fact if any of you from Democratic families get asked by your folks when you came home what the President talked to you about okay you can tell him that story with my permission to switch the party affiliations around. But just once. Seriously though just a few weeks ago I was out in Illinois and Iowa and I saw some of the devastation that's been caused by the drought there. What I saw wasn't a pretty sight. Stunted corn, sparse bean fields, withered plants starved for water struggling to push their way up. Secretary Ling has just returned from an extensive tour of the entire Midwest and he tells me that despite some rain the damage to our crops is extensive and in some cases irreversible. We're determined to get aid just as quickly as we can to those farmers who need help and I'm calling on Congress to act on comprehensive drought relief so I can sign some legislation to that end very soon. But you know in going back to Iowa and talking to many of the farmers there and businessmen and government leaders I heard a great deal said about changes in American agriculture during the last few years. In many ways these changes are reflected in your own organization's emphasis on broadening the public perception of what FFA is all about. Because you're not only an organization for farmers but an organization for all those looking for opportunities in agricultural marketing, management, production, engineering, research, communications, government and other areas. And this emphasis on the diversity of the agricultural field and broadening the economic base of our farming regions reflects the power, might and maturity of American agriculture. Your 400,000 members and 7,800 chapters are testimony to a number of young lives that FFA influences in all these wide areas. And believe me, having traveled the world as I have during these past eight years I can tell you how important this work is to the hopes of so many millions for a better world and a better future. You know, amazement is the word for how much and most of the rest of the world views American agriculture. We grow more grain, we plant more soybeans, we raise more cattle and export more produce than any combination of countries in the world. American agriculture is one of the great success stories of our time. As recently as 1940, a single American farmer could feed 19 people for a year. Today a single American farmer feeds 120 people for a year. American products are shipped around the world. Through all these decades, despite drought and misfortune, American agriculture continues to succeed. And there's a secret to it. It's one that's been emphasized to all of you as it's part of FFA philosophy. It's the secret of letting the consumer or the marketplace, not government planners make the ultimate decision about what is on the shelves of our grocery stores or in the ships that carry American products across the seas. When I first started traveling abroad as president, especially to our annual economic summits, I suggested that the best foreign aid or development program the United States could give the world was a crash study in free enterprise. And this idea was, to say the least, created with skepticism. But when America's economic miracle took over and as we created during the past 67 months 17 million new jobs, I noticed that the idea of fostering growth through encouraging the entrepreneur began to take hold. Even to the point where the emphasis on agricultural subsidies once so sacrosanct in other nations is giving way at these summits to ideas on how to develop more free enterprise. There seems to be an increasing awareness of something we Americans have known for some time. That the 10 most dangerous words in the English language are, Hi, I'm from the government and I'm here to help. Well, of course, sometimes government can help and should help. Natural disasters like the drought, for example. But we need to look to a future where there is less, not more, government in our daily lives. It's that philosophy that brought us the prosperity and growth that we see today. That's why we've proposed nothing less than a total phase out by the year 2000 of all policies that distort trade in agriculture. And I'm speaking of worldwide. This proposal reflects one of my abiding beliefs. I think it's a belief that you share the solution to the world agricultural problem is to get government out of the way and let farmers compete. And you know, I'd like to point out something as I did the week before last in Iowa. When people get to flattering me about this economic expansion, the longest in the peacetime history of our nation, I sometimes ask what is it we really did to make all this happen for Americans? And the truth is, we just got out of your way. You did it. We didn't. That's why the work you're doing now and will do as adults is essential to what we as Americans can do for the rest of the world. We need to help so many in the underdeveloped world, especially in the agricultural area. And your example and your assistance and your commitment to the concept of economic freedom can be crucial to that endeavor. Well, as always, it's wonderful to see all of you here. When Tillage begins, Daniel Webster once said, other arts follow. The farmers, therefore, are the founders of human civilization. The work of FFA is broadening horizons, our testimony, just to that point. So I want to congratulate each of you on your achievements with FFA.  And let's have a wonderful stay here while you're in the nation's capital. I can't go without just telling another little thing that maybe it's a little unkind of me about government, but what planted some of these thoughts in my mind a long time ago. I was in the military, and I remember a case arose in World War II for a warehouse that was full of filing cabinets, and the filing cabinets were all full of papers. But research revealed that none of these records were of any value whatsoever or served any purpose in the government. They were outmoded papers and so forth. They had no historical value, and so up through the channels went a request to destroy those papers and empty the file cabinets so they could be used now for the great need or then at that time of the papers that were current and so forth. And back down through the channels from the top came the answer to that request. Permission granted to destroy all of those records provided copies were made of each one. I have a hobby anymore. It's throwing paper away. But I won't take any more of your time. Just thank you all, and God bless you. It's good to see you here again. Mr. President, it is an honor for the six of us national officers in the National FFA Organization to meet with you again. But today we come to you with kind and sincere regards to share with you over 100 young people from every state in this nation who have come to answer the calling and the challenge that you set before all Americans in your second inaugural address when you said, if not us, who? If not now, when? Our country has an old tradition. The oldest tradition supposedly is that of its youth. And we as young people who represent over 416,000 other FFA members want to thank you and salute you for your unselfish service these past eight years to our country. In fact, on a more personal note, we wanted you to know that those qualities, those special and unique ones that you possess, that of communication ability, that of your gentleness, and also of your love mostly for your God, for your country, and for your mankind are those same qualities that we try to instill in our FFA members. We thank you, Mr. President. And it is with optimism that we hope you and Mrs. Reagan will be able to join us at the world's largest youth convention. Over 24,000 FFA members gather in Kansas City every November. And we would love to hear from you and your remarks. On a more personal note, though, I remind you that in the Good Book of Matthew book 22, verse 14, it says, for many are called, but few are chosen. To be chosen is a rare honor. In this case, we feel that the rarity was well done. There's a riddle that asks about the American dream. What is the difference between the American dream and everyone else's dream? Well, Mr. President, you know what the difference is. Everyone else's dream is to be an American. Thank you for your service to our country and to our young people, for your commitment and for your ability to change and to touch our lives. We would like to present you with this plaque, which says, in tribute to President Ronald Reagan, in sincere appreciation for your outstanding leadership to our world and belief in over 416,000 FFA members as the future leaders of this great nation, July 28, 1988, the White House. Thank you. Thank you very much. Madam President, I hope you're going to be around a little longer than I am. And thank you for those very kind words. You're welcome. And since we're both presidents, we can use first names, Kelly. Thank you.