Fed up with the everyday grind? Tired out from the summer heat? Wanna get away from it all? We offer you... Escape! Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure! You are groping through the midnight dimness of a gigantic department store. And suddenly you realize that a hundred eyes are staring at you from the shadows. And a hundred hands are reaching for your throat. And your most urgent desire is... To escape! Tonight we escape to a fantastic world of night dwellers. As John Collier imagines it in his eerie story, Evening Primrose. Sadie? Sadie, what's the matter? It's me. You nearly scared me to death. What do you mean come in so quiet? I don't mean to scare you. I thought you'd be asleep. I didn't want to wake you. Sam, I'm so glad you're home. What's the matter? Oh, it's terrible. You gotta do something, Sam. What's terrible? This. Just look at this. What's terrible about that? Looks like an ordinary pair of paper to me. Yeah, that's just it. That's just what I thought. But it's got writing in it. Oh, it's awful. Now, wait a minute. Maybe you'd better tell me what this is all about. Well, today I went shopping at Bracey's department store. I needed some writing paper, so I picked this up. It was on top of the pile. So I bought it and I brought it home. But tonight when I opened it, I... I found it's got writing in it. Well, that's nothing so terrible. Just take it back tomorrow and make him give you a new one. You don't understand. It's what's written in it that's so terrible. What do you mean what's written in it? Here, you gotta read it. Oh, Sadie, I... Now write now. Now read it. Look, Sadie, I'm tired. I've been bawling all evening. Please, Sam. Please, just read it. But for Pete's sake... Sam. Oh, all right. October 13th. Today I made my decision. I decided to say goodbye to the world. To get out, leave, break away. And I have done it. Ah, Sadie, this... Go on, read. And now I am free. Really free. Yes, I am free at last. Yes, I am free at last. The world is an intolerable place for a poet. I was broke, starving at my wit's end. And then I had the brilliant idea. I'd escaped to a place where I'd had no need to earn a living, where I could write to my heart's content in peace and security. And where is this place? Right under your nose. So close you'd never think of it. I am now living in Bracy's Department Store. I have everything within arm's reach that anyone would need or desire. And it's all free. Absolutely free. I arrived this afternoon. I'd spent three days looking over all the department stores in town. I decided on Bracy's because of the completeness of their food department. Therefore, this afternoon I entered the store and went immediately to the fourth floor, to the rug department, and hid myself in this dusty out-of-the-way corner behind a pile of carpets. Once I'm settled, I'll furnish it with the best of modern pieces from the furniture department. It's small, but it'll be cozy enough and safe. After the store closed, I made my first venture out. I tiptoed as far as the station or a counter and got this paper, the writer's primary need. Now, after making my first entry, I'll go out and get food, and wine, and the pillows for my bed, and perhaps even a fancy dressing gown. This is perfect. Here I'll be able to write. Dawn, October 14th. I am almost too unnerved to write this. The whole thing is unbelievable. After the store was dark and completely quiet, I crept out and started for the food department. One steps echo hollowly in an empty department store at night, and I found myself gliding along the floor on tiptoe, moving as silently as possible. But the sound of footsteps persisted, and suddenly I realized that they were not my own. The night watchman. I was in the Salon Modern, so quickly I seized a mink coat from a hanger and draped it about my shoulders and stood stock still. I could have reached out and touched him, but he passed without so much as a glance. I started to smile, but the smile froze on my lips. There was someone else here. I was looking straight into a pair of eyes, large, flat, luminous, inhuman eyes, a dozen feet away. They belonged to a creature dressed as a man, but he was as pale as something found under a stone. His hands hanging motionless at his sides looked more like the fins on a fish than human hands. And then he spoke. Not bad for a beginner. I'm sorry. I didn't know anybody else lived here. Oh, yes, we live here. It's delightful. We? Yes, all of us. Don't you see? Look around you. I looked around and saw nothing. I looked again and saw an old one come clamoring out from behind a clock. And there were three elderly ingenues, incredibly emaciated, pale as lace, almost transparent, simmering before a perfume counter. And a chintzy lady swam out from the curtains and the drapes. Then they came swarming thick around me, pale, thin, wispy, moving silently, fluttering like gauze in the wind, whispering. Of course it's the sun. Who is he? The detective sent for the dark man. They were pressing around me, clawing, holding me, their pale faces contorted with venomous and human hatred. I was paralyzed. All I could do was repeat over and over again. I am not a detective. I am not a detective. I am not. A burglar then. Who did carry him to the place? Sent for the dark man. Stop. Let him speak. I am not a detective or a burglar. I'm a poet. What are you doing here? I've renounced the world. I came here to live where I could be alone, away from the world. Why, then, he's come over to us. He's just like us. He must meet Mrs. Vanderpant. Mrs. Vanderpant, she's coming now. I followed their eyes toward the balcony and the hair on my neck rose again. There, coming down the wall like an ancient spider, clamored an old lady, wrinkled and crackled and emaciated. She must have been at least 80, a shadowy matriarch. And the things around me bowed and scraped as she reached the floor and floated toward us. What's going on here? Where is that stupid girl? What's keeping her? Oh, Mrs. Vanderpant. Well, what is it? Who's this, Mr. Roscoe? Mrs. Vanderpant, may I present Mr. Mr. Oh, Snell, Charles Snell. Yes, Mr. Snell. He's a poet. He has come here to live. Oh, he has, has he? That's what he says. And I believe him. Well. He avoided the night watchman quite neatly. For a beginner. Thank you. Very well. We shall see. A poet should find inspiration here. Mr. Snell, Mrs. Vanderpant is our grand old lady. Oh. I am quite the oldest inhabitant here, Mr. Snell. Three mergers and a complete rebuilding. But they didn't get rid of me. Oh, where is Ella? Where is my broth? She's bringing it, Mrs. Vanderpant. It will come. Terrible little creature. She's our foundling, Mr. Snell. She's not quite our sort. Oh, is that so? I have been here, Mr. Snell, ever since the terrible times of the eighties. I was a young girl then. A beauty, they said. I'm sure. And poor Papa lost his money. Racies meant a lot to a young girl in those days. So when I wasn't able to have a charge account, I came here to live. That's better than a charge account. I was quite alarmed when others began to come after the crash of 1907. But it was the dear judge, the Colonel, Mrs. Bilby. How are you? Mrs. Bilby writes plays. Oh. And comes of an old Philadelphia family. You'll find us quite nice here, Mr. Snell. I'm sure I will. And of course, our dear young people came in 1929. Their poor Papa's jumped from skyscrapers. They couldn't bear to be without charge accounts either. But you mean all these nice people live here? Oh, and many more. You shall meet them all later. Oh, here comes Ella with my broth. Come here, you stupid thing. Mrs. Vanderpant is waiting, Ella. Yes, ma'am. Yes, sir. I'm coming as fast as I can. Oh, here. Round the table over there, Ella. Now be careful. Don't spill it. Oh, but she's young. Well, of course, she is a little younger than most of us. She's different. She's beautiful. That's right, old fellow. She's really not our sort. Oh, you shouldn't say such things. She can hear you. Oh, that doesn't matter. Mrs. Bilby, please. Mr. Snell, you will understand these things better after you've been here for a while. But it seems to me that... Mr. Snell, we have certain rules here. They are necessary for our survival. I'm sure you won't find it hard to observe them. Well, yes, but I... I should advise you that you try. If you do not, it would be most unfortunate, Mr. Snell. Most unfortunate for you. October 15th. You can imagine my feelings last night. My first thought was to escape as quickly as possible. In fact, I planned to quit my hiding place and mingle with the crowds and leave Bracies forever. But just at dawn, Mr. Roscoe brought me a cup of coffee, which must have been drugged, for I fell asleep. And when I awoke, I found that I'd slept all day. And night was closing over the store once more. Later, I have spent my second night here. I saw Ella again. Ella, the pearl of this remote, fantastic cave. She's not like the others. A trifle pale, but otherwise normal and human and... and beautiful. A child of perhaps 18. She is the only thing that makes this nightmare bearable. October 20th. Escape seems almost impossible. There is a very effective burglar alarm system. And the doors are all carefully guarded. But that is nothing compared to the dark men. Who are the dark men? I don't know, but the inhabitants here threaten any transgressor with these dark men. I shall try to discover who they are. I am sure I'm watched, though they've begun to trust me now. Speaking to the night watchman would be suicide. Even if he believed my fantastic story or didn't shoot me as a burglar, I'm convinced that neither Ella nor I could get out of here alive. She and the night watchman are the only real people here. And how the others hate the night watchman. Oh, dear, vulgar creature. He reeks of the coarse sun. Oh, come now, Mrs. Bilby. He's really a very personable young man. Very young for a night watchman. Mr. Snell, sometimes I wonder about your taste. You must not stay so much to yourself. You must become better acquainted with our ways. That's quite true, old man. Oh, you must come to the play tonight. We're going to be entertained with one of Mrs. Bilby's tragic comedies, Love in Shadowland. I'm sure you will enjoy it. I'm sure I will. Oh, it's really a festive occasion, you know. Wanamakers is coming over. Wanamakers? Yes, the entire colony over at Wanamakers is coming here en masse to attend the play. You mean there are people living in other stores? Oh, dear, yes, didn't you know? Of course, the best people live in braces in Wanamakers. Oh, come now, Mrs. Bilby, there are some very nice people at Altman's. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bilby. Uh, hello, Ella. Oh, good evening, Mr. Snell. Well, what is it, Ella? Oh, please, ma'am, I'd so love to see your play tonight. May I have your permission? Certainly not. You know better than that, you stupid creature. You know where you belong. In the basement by the garbage cans. But Mrs. Bilby... Hush, Mr. Snell. Ella, you're becoming entirely too forward of late. I advise you to watch your step. Remember the dark men. Oh, no, please, Mr. Roscoe, I'll be good. I promise I will. Oh, no, please don't send for the dark man. I'm sorry, Mrs. Bilby. Excuse... Ella, Ella, come back. Charles, you forget yourself. Let her go. But how can you treat her like that? Why do you always frighten her? And what is all this about the dark men? Well, Mr. Snell, I... Oh, please, Mr. Roscoe, not now. You'll spoil our whole evening. And I do so want Mr. Snell to enjoy my play. Very well, Mrs. Bilby. Later, Charles. But I want to know about the dark men. Later, later. October 21st. I found an opportunity to speak to Ella alone. I had not dared to speak to her before. Here one has a sense always of pale eyes secretly watching. But last night at the play, I induced a fit of hiccups. As I anticipated, I was sternly reprimanded and told to go and secret myself in the basement where the night watchman wouldn't hear me. This was exactly what I had planned. I went to the basement. And there in the darkness, among the garbage cans and the rats, I heard sobbing. Ella. Ella, is that you? Yes. Why are you crying? What is it, Ella? They wouldn't even let me see the play. Oh, is that all? Oh, Mr. Snell, I'm so unhappy. Oh, there, there. You mustn't cry. You're the only one. The only one who is kind. Ella, why are you here? Why do they treat you so differently? Because I'm not like them. I didn't choose to come here. You mean you were held prisoner? Yes. You see, I was only six. I came here on a shopping tour with my mother. I got lost and fell asleep behind a counter. It was dark when I awoke, and they found me. Some of them wanted to send for the dark men because they were afraid I would tell on them. But Mrs. Vanderpant said no. I could stay and be her maid. I've been here ever since. Since you were six? But haven't you ever tried to get away? Oh, no. I don't know anything about out there. I wouldn't know what to do. Besides, I'm afraid to take the chance. If anyone tries to get out, they send for the dark men. Ella, who are the dark men? Don't you know? Oh, it's horrible. Tell me. You know how people live in all the stores at Gimbals and Bloomingdale's? Yes, yes, I know. Well, the dark men live at the Undertaker's. Good heavens. And whenever someone dies or breaks the rules, or when a burglar gets in and sees these people and might tell, they send for the dark men. That's horrible. They put the body in the butcher shop in the food department, and then the dark men come. I saw them once. It was terrible. What do they do? They go in where the dead person is. They have wax with them and all sorts of things. And when they're gone, there's just a wax model left on the counter. Then our people put a frock on it or a bathing suit and mix it up with all the other wax models in the windows. And nobody ever knows. Ellie, you mean all these dummies are... Oh, no, at least not all of them. But if you displease these people, the same thing might happen to you. October 30th. I've not kept up my journal. Writing has been out of the question. Once more, I'm frozen with terror. Not for myself now, but for Ella. They hate her. Anytime, they might turn against her and send her to the dark men. My mind is filled with her. I dream of her every day. I live to see her at night. We've managed it several times. They trust me now and let me roam about without interference. And finally tonight, I met her again and said it. Ella, I love you. Charles. I love you, Ella. Let's get married or whatever they do here and then we can live together in my home in the carpet department. They wouldn't dare hurt you then. Charles. Don't look so dismayed. If you like, we'll go away from here. Maybe we can get transferred to Bergdorf Goodman overlooking Central Park. Don't, Charles, don't. You mustn't. But I love you. I love you. Ella, you're not in love with someone else. Oh, Charles. Yes, I am. But who? I thought you hated them all. Oh, it must be Roscoe. He's the only one that's young enough. Oh, no, Charles, not Roscoe, especially not him. I do hate them all. They make me shudder. Well, who is it then? It's he. The night watchman. No, that's impossible. Oh, I love him. He smells of the sun. Ella. Oh, it was wonderful, the way it happened. Don't tell on me, Charles, or they'll punish me. Oh, no, no. I was careless. And there he was, coming around the corner in the ladies' lingerie department. I was caught. There were only some wax models in there under things. There was nothing else to do. I slipped off nightdress and stood still. I see. He stopped near me. He looked at me. Oh, Charles, he spoke to me. He said, say, honey, I wish they made them like you on 8th Avenue. Oh, Charles, wasn't that a lovely thing to say? Personally, I should have said Park Avenue. Oh, Charles, don't get like these people here. It doesn't matter what avenue, Charles. It was just a lovely thing to say. But what can you do about him, Ella? He belongs to another world. Yes, to 8th Avenue, and I want to go there. Charles, are you really my friend? Yes, yes, of course I am. Then I'll tell you. I'm going to stand there again in the lingerie department so he'll see me. And then? Perhaps he'll speak to me again. Oh, no, Ella, you're only torturing yourself. No, because this time I shall answer him, and he'll take me away. Take you away? Oh, no, no, no, Ella, I couldn't bear that. You don't love him. You only think you do because you think he'll take you out of here. But you don't know that he will. And I will, Ella. I've made up my mind. No, Charles, I couldn't let you do it. Even if I loved you, you couldn't do it, Charles. Why not? Because you really belong here. You've become one of them now. Ella, Ella, you mustn't say that. It's true, and... Charles. What? I've got to go. There's someone watching us. I feel it. Wait, Ella. Goodbye, Charles. No, Ella, come back. Ella. Please, old fellow, you'll arouse the night watchman. Roscoe. Yes. Love can be very upsetting, can't it? You heard? Just the last moment or so. Very touching. I was rather surprised. And yet it's understandable I've been attracted to Ella myself. We're still young, you know. And so she loves another. Too bad, old fellow. Who could it be? Could it be that I am the cause of your heartbreak? You flatter yourself too much, Roscoe. Then who? The old judge? Certainly not. The Colonel? Hardly. None of those. Not one of the customers. The staff. She loves the night watchman. Can you imagine that? She loves the night... Oh. Roscoe, I shouldn't have said that. It's not true. At least I don't think it's true. You wouldn't... You said you loved her too. You wouldn't do anything... Tell anybody. This is a secret between us, between friends, isn't it? Of course, old man. As secret as the grave. She's young. Perhaps he'll leave and she'll forget him. In time, who knows? Perhaps she will learn to love you or me. Of course. In time. And we'll figure a way to keep her safe here. Absolutely safe. Now don't you worry about it. Well, it's almost dawn. Time for bed. Good morning, Charles. Early evening, November the 4th. I was a fool. I should have known he couldn't be trusted. He must have gone straight to Mrs. Vanderpant. This evening the atmosphere has changed. People flickered to and fro, smiling nervously. Horribly with a sort of frightened sadistic exultation. An informal dance in the record department's been called off. And I can't find Ella. I'm going out again now to look for her. Roscoe, what have you done with her? Quiet, old chap. The night watchman. I don't care. What have you done with her? Whatever I did, I did for your own good as well as the good of us all. Wait a minute. What is that? What are those people carrying? It's Ella. She's tied up and they're carrying her. Ella, Ella! Stop it, Charles, stop it! Charles, don't do anything! Save me! Charles! Let me go! Let me go! No, stop, Charles, stop it! You aroused the night watchman. But they're taking her into the butcher shop. Ella! Ella! Ella! Yes, Charles. Those are the dark men. Midnight. I'm scribbling this last entry hurriedly. They are in there in the butcher shop with Ella. The dark men. There's only one thing to do. I'm going to find the night watchman and tell him. He and I will save her if we can. And if we're overpowered, well, I will leave this pad on the stationary counter. Tomorrow, if I live, I will recover it. If I do not, whoever finds this and reads it, look in the windows. Look for three new wax dummies. Two men, one rather sensitive looking, and a girl. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. And her nose turns up a little. Look for us. And then find them. Smoke them out. Exterminate them. Adventures. Find them, smoke them out, exterminate them. Adventures. Sam, isn't it horrible? We've got to do something, tell somebody something. Oh, Sam, what will we do? Do? Nothing. Go to bed. Oh, but Sam... Whoever wrote this has sure got a weird sense of humor. Probably some clerk down at Bracy's ought to be fired. You mean you think it's just a story? Are you kidding? You don't believe that stuff, do you? Well, I... I don't know. I... I just thought... Forget it, baby. Snap out of it. I shouldn't leave you alone. You get too many ideas when I go bowling at night. Oh, Sam. Sam, don't you think maybe we ought to just take it back and show somebody? Nuts. It's not worth the bother. They'd laugh at you, baby. Think you were crazy or something. Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess I was silly. Forget it. Come on, let's go to bed. I'm tired. Sure, Sam. Girl, you know, for a while I was sure scared. I even forgot what I was going to tell you. What? Sam, I found the cutest dress today. Only 1995. Yeah, baby? Yeah. It was in the window at Bracy's. It was a little wax model with... blonde hair... and blue eyes... and it sort of turned up the nose and... and there were two men standing... Sam! Escape is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Tonight we have brought you Evening Primrose by John Collier, adapted for radio by John Dunkle. Featured in tonight's story were Bill Conrad as Charles and Constance Cavendish as Ellen. With Harry Bartel, Lillian Bajoff, Jeff Corey, Kay Miller, and Irene Tedrow. Special music by Ivan Dittmar. Next week... When you've had all you can stand of routine. When your everyday chores offer you no release. When the four walls are closing in on you. Join us for... Escape. Next week we escape with another great story by one of the world's outstanding authors. Good night then until this same time next week when once again we offer you... Escape. Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
