Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings at a single bound, look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superman! Kellogg's Pep, P-E-P Pep, Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal presents The Adventures of Superman. Today, Homer Smith seems to have the upper hand at the Daily Planet, as Clark Kent finds himself unable to act as Superman, without revealing the carefully guarded secret of his double identity. Hello there, gang, this is your pal Dan McCullough. Say, if you were going in for collecting, which would you rather collect? Model airplanes, pictures of birds, or comic buttons to pin on your jacket or beanie cap? Well, from now on, you can collect all three kinds of these swell prizes. Sure, right in your next package of Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal, you'll find either a colored cardboard model of a famous fighting plane, one of seven in the Pep Air Fleet, or you'll find one of 24 beautiful color pictures of birds, so you can identify these birds anywhere. Or you'll find one of a grand series of 18 colored comic buttons with characters straight out of the funnies. There's one or the other of these three keen prizes in every package of Pep. Just as if Pep's light crispness and cool come-on flavor were to prize all by themselves. Why, Pep's so strictly terrific tasting that a bowl of those crunchy whole wheat flakes makes breakfast a regular fun feast. You get that catchy Pep flavor, and right off, your spoon just naturally dips down on your dish for more. Yes, sir, Pep with cool milk and sugar is just about the keenest breakfast treat ever. So today, ask Mom to get you a package of Pep the very next time she's at the grocer's. Now, the adventures of Superman. As you know, Homer Smith, secret agent for a powerful munitions magnate who was conspiring to destroy the World Peace Federation, obtained control of the Daily Planet by blackmailing John Grayson, publisher of the great newspaper. Then, when editor Perry White defied Smith, he mysteriously disappeared. Smith was about to launch a vicious campaign against the Peace Federation in the pages of the planet when Clark Kent, who had finally persuaded John Grayson to confide in him, arrived with a letter from the publisher ordering Smith to suspend publication of the paper until further notice. Smith refused and dared Kent to try to enforce the order. As they entered the press room, several hard-faced men armed with submachine guns surrounded Kent. Smith said, I have fired you from the planet, Kent. So now you're trespassing here. Take one more step and my boys will shoot you down. And the law will uphold me. As we continue now, Kent, surrounded by Homer Smith's gunman and with the eyes of the planet pressman upon him, realizes that he is trapped. If he defies the guns which will surely blaze at him, he will reveal his identity as Superman. His mind races desperately as the huge planet presses clatter, turning out hundreds of thousands of papers which carry the message of the greedy munitions maker against the cause of world peace. Well, Kent, do you still think you can stop me from publishing the Daily Planet? Looks as if you've got me, Smith. I'm glad you're smart enough to say it. Make yourself comfortable. The press run will be over in an hour. You mean you're going to keep me here, a prisoner? I'm going to keep you here to prevent any monkey shine, such as occurred before. When the press run is over, you can go. But look here... Sit down. And don't try anything funny. If you want to stay healthy. Pretending to be resigned to his fate, Kent sits down on the concrete floor, his back against the massive clattering press. Then, unnoticed by Smith and his gunman, he tenses his powerful muscles, leans back slowly. There is a heavy scraping sound unnoticed in the noisy press room. Kent hunches his back again, feels the great five-ton press machine slide several inches from its anchorage. The moving of the giant press snaps a power line leading from the central generator, short-circuiting it. Instantly, as the power fails, the great room is plunged into darkness, and the presses and line-a-type machines cladded to a stop. Don't move, Kent. Me? Of course not, Mr. Smith. Clang the lights on. Clang them on, I say. Donovan. Where's Donovan? Oh, for a fast Superman job. Up over their heads. Up. Superman, still in his guise of Clark Kent, lands alongside the number two press. In the darkness, he almost grazes the puzzled workman there as he grasps the giant machine and swings it six inches out of position. Then he turns and drags a huge line-a-type machine a foot from its anchorage. Moves the next press, and the next, and the next. There we are. These presses won't work until they're moved back into line, and since each one weighs several tons, that'll take all day and all night. Uh-oh. Donovan's hooking up emergency lighting from the casting room. Back to my little playmates. Quit pushing! Quit pushing! What's holding up those lights, Donovan? Ah, for a minute, Mr. Smith. Ah, there you are. Well, Mother, a mercy. I never seen nothing like this in army-born days. What is it? What's the matter, Donovan? Why don't you get the presses going again? Look for yourself, man. Them presses each one weighing five tons of it weighs an ounce. All of them moved half a foot or more out of line. Tell me now, how could such a thing as that happen? What's the difference? Get them going again. We've got a paper to get out. You won't get out no paper today, Mr. Smith. We must. It can't be done. Except if the same miracle that moved these presses out of line moves them back again. But the paper must be printed, I tell you. And I tell you it can't be, not today. And tomorrow will be too late. What do you mean, Kent? Try to figure it out. Toodaloo, Mr. Smith. Wait. Where are you going? Oh, I'm going bye-bye. As practically anyone will tell you, I'm really much too delicate to help you move those huge machines. I'll be seeing you. So long. Leaving the infuriated Homer Smith, Kent steps from the darkened confusion of the press room into an alley. There, swiftly resuming his true identity of Superman, he streaks 200 miles north through the doctor's house in the little village where he had left John Grayson, publisher of the planet. Hello, Mr. Grayson. Hi. Why, it's Superman. That's right. I'm, uh, well, pinch-hitting for Clark Kent at the moment, you might say. I'm glad you're here. I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving my life today. No time for that now. We've got to move fast if we're to find Perry White and the blackmailers and murderers who are trying to wreck the World Peace Federation. I suggest we have Smith arrested. Then the police can find plenty of evidence against him and whoever's behind him. Maybe. But so far, they haven't been able to pin a thing on him. Neither have I. If we arouse Smith's suspicions, they'll all get away. And that, unless I miss my guess, will mean the end of Perry White. You think Perry's still alive? Yes, I do. Only stupid men would do away with an important person like Mr. White unless they had to. And these men, whoever they are, are anything but stupid. I hope you're right. But if we can't arrest Smith, how are we going to find the rascals behind him? I've got a plan. Smith is worried by your letters suspending publication of the Daily Planet. He may be a little suspicious too. At any rate, he's sure to contact me. Yes? I want you to insist on a personal interview with him, preferably at your house. At my house? Yes. Well, I'll tell you later. Right now we've got... Well, if he's suspicious, I should say, he may refuse. I don't think he will. Tell Smith you're not well and that you don't want to discuss the matter over the phone. We'll have another story cooked up for him when he gets there. The important thing is to get him to your house. I'll take it from there. What do you mean? Well, I'll have to explain that later, too. All right, now we've got to get back to Metropolis. I arranged for Smith to be busy in the press room for a little while, but he'll be calling you any minute. You've got to be at home when he calls. But we're several hours away from Metropolis. No, no, Mr. Grayson. Just a few seconds. What? You're going by Superman Express. Oh, you mean... Come on, Mr. Grayson. Everything depends on getting Smith to your house. So up with him like that, and out through that window. Being through the window with John Grayson in his arms, Superman streaks away toward Metropolis. What is his plan? And will it work? We'll know more in a moment when we return for the climax of today's episode. So stand by. Say, you want to know a breakfast treat that wins by a cool mile these summer days? It's Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal. So light and cheerful in your dish, it practically flashes you a grin. One look at a bowl of Pep, and you can hardly wait to hitch up your chair and begin. And talk about flavor. Why, right off, Pep's keen, catchy flavor starts its solid sending. Not to mention how crisp and tender Kellogg's Pep is. Believe me, gang, here's a dish that's strictly on the terrific side. And Pep's a prize package in still another way. I mean those keen Pep prizes. Because right inside your next package, maybe you'll find a bright colored comic button, picturing one of your favorite comic strip characters. There are 18 of these buttons to collect and to wear on your jacket or beanie cap. Or maybe you'll find a bird picture in brilliant full color with a full description on the reverse side. Collect all 24 of them and surprise the gang by your knowledge of these birds wherever you happen to spot them. Or maybe your Pep prize will be one of the seven exciting colored cardboard plane models. Easy and fun to put together. All three kinds of Pep prizes are top-notch collector's items. So get busy right away. Ask mom to get you a package of Pep made by Kellogg's. Late that afternoon, as twilight falls over the magnificent island estate of Rufus Pelley, the munitions magnate angrily paces his circular glass-walled turret study atop his great rock mansion overlooking the sea. In a chair, looking like an anxious accountant, Homer Smith watches Pelley pause in his panther-like pacing to replenish his coffee cup from the ever-present silver thermos bottle on a table. He drains the cup of the gulp, then lashes out at his companion. I ought to break your neck, Smith. Now, wait, Mr. Pelley, I... I counted on one million copies of the Daily Planet carrying our attack on the World Peace Federation today. But you let me down. It wasn't my fault. Didn't I tell you a hundred smaller papers all over the country, subscribers to the planet's news service, would reprint our editorial from the planet? That means millions of people would read the attack on the Peace Federation. Yes, I know that, sir, but... But you failed! You miserable fool! Don't you realize that the Peace Federation must be discredited? Wrecked? If it succeeds in bringing nations together over a conference table in friendship, there won't be any wars. And without wars, my munitions industry will are worthless. I understand, Mr. Pelley. If you'd just let me explain, I... Explain what? How somebody made a fool of you and moved the planet presses out of position so you couldn't print today's paper. I can't understand how that happened. Those presses weigh several tons apiece. It would take a gang of men several hours to move them out of line. And I had my own guards in the press room with guns. Somebody obviously tricked your stupid guards or bribed them. Probably that reporter, Clark Kent. I don't believe it. It's impossible. That's rubbish! You slipped up there, Smith. And you slipped up with John Grayson. Else how would he dare write you a letter to stop publishing the planet until further notice? I don't know, sir. You don't know, you stupid idiot. You mean you haven't talked to him yet? Please, Mr. Pelley, one moment. Of course I talked to him, but... Well, what did he say? He said he couldn't explain over the telephone. He wants me to call on him this evening. This evening? Yes. He said he wasn't well, but when I tried to phone him earlier this morning, I was told he wasn't at home. Sounds a little fishy. That fellow, Kent, sir, he seems very mild, but I believe he's quite clever. He may suspect you had something to do with Perry White's disappearance and persuaded Grayson to try to trap you. Yes, sir. That occurred to me. I'm sure Kent is working with the police, too. They searched my room while I was out. There was nothing there? Of course not. If Kent is really clever, you'll figure you're acting for someone else. He and the police might even hope that you'll come here after you leave Grayson, and they can trail you. No, you must not go to Grayson's house tonight, Smith. Then what'll we do? As we scare him into line again, we can't print the planet tomorrow. We'll take care of Grayson and print the planet tomorrow and every other day until we succeed in finishing the World Peace Federation. But how? I know how. So Kent and the police are laying a little trap for me, eh? Well, I'll teach them something about traps. And I'll teach Grayson, too. While his claw-like hands caress his coffee cup, Rufus Pelly, the man who profits from the murders of war, chuckles grimly. His keen mind has seen through Clark Kent's trap, and now he plans a trap of his own. Since Kent has made it clear that everything depends on luring Homer Smith to John Grayson's house. Now, what will happen? What is the munitions magnate's counterplot? Don't miss tomorrow's thrilling episode, gang, as Clark Kent and the unseen Rufus Pelly engage in a desperate duel of wits. Tune in, same time, same station. And remember, for breakfast, it's Kellogg's Pep. For excitement, the adventures of Superman. Superman is a copyrighted feature appearing in Superman DC comic magazines, and is brought to you Monday through Friday at the same time by Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal. Say, gang, talk about famous names. Why, Kellogg is the greatest name in cereals. And Kellogg makes Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. Crisp, tender biscuits that are full up with natural nut sweet flavor, toasted the Kellogg way, just right. Mighty good for breakfast, and mighty good for you. They're whole wheat. Mom knows Kellogg's Shredded Wheat is economical, too. You get 15, 15 biscuits in every package. They're made to fit the bowl. Ask Mom to get you some Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. And be sure to be with us tomorrow for the thrilling adventures of Superman. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.