Your Coca-Cola Bottler presents Claudia, based on the famous play of novels by Rose Franken. Brought to you transcribed Monday through Friday by your friendly neighbor who bottles Coca-Cola. Relax, and while you're listening, refresh yourself. Have a Coke. And now, Claudia. Oh my, oh my, oh my. Anything the matter, Hartley? Anything the matter, I should say not. Everything is superb, wonderful, ecstatic. Oh my, oh my, oh my. Now, aren't you glad you have country relatives? I always was. David, why is it I sleep better in the country? I eat better in the country. That's because you don't live in the country. David, how about another cup of coffee? I don't mind if I do. Yeah, it's true, Claudia. Hartley comes up to the country, spends a day with his farmer brother, and he has absolutely no worries. What worries have you? Must I count them so early in the morning? Yes, David, go on, be explicit. Well, Hartley, I worry that the pipes aren't going to burst. Summer, they don't burst in summer. If pipes could, mine would. Then I worry that the cow isn't fed properly. We haven't got a cow, though. That's really why I worry. Someplace, somewhere in the state of Connecticut, there's a cow for me. Where? I don't know exactly where, so I can't do anything to see that she's gotten the proper care, so all I can do is worry. That's a nice, realistic approach to things. What other fantasies are on your mind, David? Well, my fields aren't tilled, my barn isn't completed, my driveway has to be regraveled, and tomorrow it may rain. No wonder you look so well. Those kind of worries will keep you young, man. It's the old story about the grass on the other side of the fence. What about it? It's greener. Hartley, don't you believe a word David's saying? He hasn't got a thing on his mind except problems, and they don't have a thing to do with living in the country. Even problems can't seem so serious up here when you're a million miles from no place. We're exactly 53 miles from Times Square and 42nd Street. A million miles when you've gone the 53. Why, the sky looks different up here. Everything feels different. Look at us. We're having breakfast, and there are no morning newspapers on the table. That is one thing that has always rather irritated me. David likes to read the papers at breakfast so he doesn't have to talk. If I could have breakfast every day without having to read about the stock market or the threat of war or conditions in Europe, I think I could really enjoy the meal. If I could come home every night to Eastbrook from Wall Street, the prices steal or the fluctuation on the cotton market, they wouldn't worry me at all. He's making me feel as if I were a lighthouse keeper living on a small bundle of rock completely remote from the outside world. That's the luxury of it, David. You're not exiled. When necessity calls, you hop in your car and there you are, boiling in the cauldron with the rest of us. But afternoon comes and you're away, freed, independent, living your life alone back here, the outside world beyond your fences. And it's up to you whether you choose to cross them or not. I do not choose. But there is a choice, and that's the beauty of it. And today I'm exerting my right to choose. I shall not go into New York. You won't? Oh, how wonderful. After all, it isn't every day my one and only brother gets back from Europe and comes up to see us. Oh, I don't want you to put yourself out for me. I will not, don't worry. I'm putting myself out for myself. I'm going to hide myself away in the spare room and work on some plans. For the freight terminal? How is it coming along? So far, so good. Although it's been quite a headache. Well, we won't disturb you, David. Whenever you're ready to cloister yourself, just say the word. All right, I say the word now. Now. Will you excuse me? Of course, delighted. Claudia and I shall have a fine talk while you work and my wife sleeps. I'll show you the farm. That's what I hope you'd suggest. Don't let her run around too much. Don't you worry about it. Where do you want to begin, Hartley? Right out the front door. I've been itching to get my nose into some of this morning country air. There you are. The door opens, the curtain rises. Our farm's stretching as far as your eye can see. When I was traveling through Europe just days ago, walking through the ruins of capital cities, watching the hunger lines, hearing the cries and complaints of a destroyed civilization, I tried to imagine what and where the perfect world would be. I think perhaps you found it. I think perhaps we have too, Hartley. It's here for all those who want it. Hello there, Mrs. Naughton. You're up with the roosters this morning. No, I'm up with my brother-in-law, Mr. Tucker. You're having some visiting relatives, eh? Yup. Bet now you're sorry this farm ain't another hundred miles from New York. That's a nice thing to say. Right in front of the visiting relative, too. I'm just starting to show Mr. Naughton around the farm. Why don't you join us, Mr. Tucker? You know a lot more about it than I do. Well, I don't want to be intruding. Wasn't here on your land to snoop, mind you. On June mornings with the mist line on the road, I kind of like to climb up on the crest of that hill behind your house. Gives me a feeling in my bones to see the world gathering up on the doorstep. Keeps feller young, stand up on a hill. Top of a hill is the center of things, you know. The center of things, eh? I thought I'd be running away from the world up here. The world, Mr. Naughton, is really run from places like Eastbrook. See that ribbon road stretching out down there beyond the farmhouse? Yes, I see it. That there's River Road. That's the road we live on. To my way of thinking, and to them what knows is right, the world is really run from River Road. You don't say. I do say I do. There are two ways of life, Mr. Naughton. The city way and the country way. Broadway versus Main Street. Wall Street versus River Road. Broadway and Wall Street don't run the world. They ain't even in the middle of it. Why, they don't even know what the world's all about. They're so busy, busy just staying alive. Just fighting for air. I must say I can't quite go along with you on that. Why, I haven't even seen the morning newspaper up here. We don't have to read the morning newspaper, Mr. Naughton. We know what's in it. We're the ones that's in it. So what's the use of reading them? Look here, Mr. Naughton. Do you know your congressman? My congressman? Why, of course I know him. He's, uh, what's his name? I voted for him three times. I see. What's his name? How would you like it if I told you I know my congressman personally? I was strung up with him. Yep, I know him well. I know what kind of a man he is. I know the girl he married. When he's sitting down there in Washington in the House of Congress, I can depend on him to talk a certain way. Because I know the kind of meat he's made of. When I hear Mr. Tucker talk heartily, it makes me wish I'd been born in Eastbrook, instead of having just migrated up here. You're fitting in, Mrs. Naughton. You can't tell me that living up here isn't getting away from the world. Why, even in the middle of a war, your doorstep could be peaceful. Talk about wars, eh? We're the folks who know what war's about. Every boy that put on cocky up here in Eastbrook, I knew him. Yep, knew him ever since he was a little tot. Knew his father, knew his mother. I seen them go down to the office there and sign up for the draft. Then I seen him get dressed up one fine mornin' and leave town. The whole time he was gone, I knew, I knew, I knew where he was, and what he was doin', and what was happenin' to him. I stayed home, sure, and I growed my corn and fed my cattle. Did my share to keep things goin'. But I was with every one of the 300 boys from Eastbrook who went to war, because I knew every one of them. What do you got to say to that? Yes, there is a difference. The names in New York, lots more boys signed up and went off. You didn't miss sittin' next to them in the grains meetin'. You didn't talk to his father every day, see his hands shakin', holdin' on to a letter he'd just received. And you didn't know every boy who didn't come back. You didn't go there and sit in on church service or wait up through the night with a wife who's havin' a child and who had no husband, who never would have him. You can have your cities, you can have your feelings if your cities are the center of the world, just cause you're busy, but they ain't. You're a very convincing art here, Mr. Tucker. You say you're on Wall Street. Well, who raises a corn that makes the market go up? In the wheat, in the cattle, in the pigs. They're the backbone of the country. You gotta raise corn first, then you can buy or sell to your heart's contentment. Maybe you just better stay in New York, Hartley, and take life easy. Maybe you're right. Of course I'm right. I heard you. Them ears of mine have been hearin' for 78 years. Got pretty good at it, too. Don't miss a thing. But I ain't finished. Look here at Mrs. Norton. She's havin' a baby. I'm afraid even somebody's eyes who haven't been seeing for 78 years could see that. It's a fine thing havin' a baby. Up here, we're all waitin' to see him. Been watchin' and worryin' along with Mr. Norton for the past months. Glad to see everything comin' along fine. What's a baby in the city? Nothin' but a birth certificate. Seven million other people bustlin' around and nobody cares. One birth certificate more or less, but up here, her baby is important. I've been thinkin' it was just an event between David and me. Well, not up here it ain't. Here we know the baby's dad, so we expect a lot of his boy, cause his dad's a good man. We're all waitin' to watch this baby grow up and get on a few years and then go down to the schoolhouse his dad's gone to build. Even if he goes away and stays away for 20 years maybe and then comes back, we'll know him. We won't have forgotten him. That baby of yours better grow up to be a fine boy or else she'll lack the hide off in him. Well, Claudia, now you know what you have to live up to. It's wonderful to know just what it is, isn't it, Hottie? Yes, it is. I guess I woke up in a kind of dream this morning. I didn't realize that the sun shining in my room was lighting up the pulse of the world. I was wrong. And that pulse is beatin' fine and strong, Mr. Norton, ever you fear. As long as the world is made up of Eastbrooks, the pulse will keep on a-beatin'. Hello up there! You Milton climbers, wait for me! Well, guess I'll be toddlin' along. Sure was nice to have listened to you talk, Mr. Norton. Yes, it was. I'll see you again when you decide to get away from the outsides of things and come up here. It's funny the ideas city folks get, but you can't blame them. They're so befuddled and bamboozled all the time. Darling, what are you doing way up here? I told you not to climb around. We're looking at the world on our doorstep, David. You see River Road down there, winding peacefully as if it were surrounded by nothing but a great calm? Don't fool yourself. Your River Road is the crossroads of the world. Come nearer, David. Something I want to tell you. What is it, darling? David, do you have any idea how nice it is that our baby's going to grow up right here on Eastbrook, on the crossroads of the world? Hmm hmm hmm hmm. Tum tum tum tum. La la la la la la la la la la. Radio listening is a sociable pastime, and it can be made even more sociable if you get out several bottles of ice-cold Coca-Cola. That holds good whether you have guests or the families alone of an evening. In fact, you'll find Coke is pleasant even when you pause during housework or your favorite daytime program. Take a tip from me and listen refreshed. Well, Mr. King, it looks as if Jared Tucker sold me a bill of goods. Really convinced you, didn't he? Absolutely. I've started feeling as if I'd never really lived before. To tell you the truth, maybe I haven't. There are different ways to live. I suppose so. Well, it's a glorious morning up here. I think I'll walk across some fields and pick Julia bouquet of wildflowers. Why, she'd love it. Any wife would. By the way, do you know why Claudia and David haven't raised a flower garden yet? Well, I suppose they've had so much else to do first. I suppose so. But for me, home isn't home without flowers. Living in the country... Yes, and Claudia agrees with you. I have a feeling she's going to try and talk David into a few roses and petunias. But that's for Monday. Let me know if she succeeds, will you? I will. I will, Mr. Noton, on Monday. Thank you. Bye. See you then. As I was about to say, every day, Monday through Friday, Claudia comes to you transcribed with the best wishes of your friendly neighbor who bottles Coca-Cola. So listen again Monday at the same time. And now this is Joe King saying au revoir. And remember, whoever you are, whatever you do, wherever you may be, when you think of refreshment, think of Coca-Cola. For Coca-Cola makes any pause the pause that refreshes. And ice-cold Coca-Cola is everywhere. These programs star Katherine Bard as Claudia and Paul Crabtree as David. And the entire production is supervised and directed by William Brown Maloney. And now here's a word from your friendly neighbor who bottles Coca-Cola.