The Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations grew out the West invites you to let George do it. Serenade to the southern star, another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade. If life is a whirlpool and you're smack in the middle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. My goodness, Valentine, there was once a man named Bluebeard who could not endure the thought of leaving his lady friends alive. But it is much more horrifying when you suspect that a woman has developed this same complex regarding her men. We are musicians and she took an interest in our little group. When we all arrived in your city a few days ago, we were a quartet. Now we are a trio and unless you help us immediately, there is every reason to believe we may become a duet. If you think this is facetious, may we add that the ladies two husbands have also disappeared. Sincerely, the Parnassus Trio, Steamship Southern Star, Pier 42. Mr. Valentine, Miss Brooks, my name is Paul. I am the conductor of our little symphony. How do you do? And this young man is Stuart, my drummer. Hello. Stuart is a musician and a pelican, but he so politely said he wanted experience for his college education. Don't worry, I'm getting it too. Stuart, are you the one that this female Bluebeard has her eye fixed on? Oh gosh, no. No, her tastes are a little more sophisticated. It is our third member, Fabio. He is in there in the next room asleep. Yeah, he always sleeps. As sleepy as Piano I ever had. So amiable though. He is Latin, that is all. Well, so my letter intrigued you, huh? How could it help it? Who is this femme fatale? Her name, Mrs. Devereaux, her age, who cares? She would not admit it anyway, but her wealth is enormous. Uh-huh. Where did you meet her? She traveled with us on the last trip. Now we find she is going to repeat the voyage, leaving tonight for the sake of Fabio. Wait a second, you mention another musician. Yeah, you see, he was a fellow... I will tell the story. It was Jose the cello. First Mrs. Devereaux liked him. They left the ship together two days ago, but yesterday at the company office I ran into and she claimed she had not even seen him. We checked, we called, he is nowhere. Did you try missing persons? Of course, that is all taken care of. Well, surely he will show up sometime before you say it. I hope so, but I am afraid not. Anyway, what we need you for is poor Fabio. Why, Paul? What makes your positive Mrs. Devereaux so deadly? Yes, how do you know anything has really happened to this Jose or to the two husbands you mentioned? As I told you, Miss Brooks, there is nothing we can prove, but the woman is... She is simpatico, she is charming, she is beautiful. Like you are, Miss Brooks. Oh, Fabio, please. But I am not wealthy. Oh, well, life is full of tragedy. How do you do, Mr. Valentine? So you are Fabio, huh? Well, don't say it like that. I am a nice guy, just a lazy egotist, that's all. I gather you weren't in on writing the letter. Oh, well, I knew about it, but if there is thinking to be done, I leave it up to Paul and Sue. And the same goes for Ash. You guessed it. Well, I am on my way topside now. I sleep very in the lounge, but she is a lovely woman, Mrs. Devereaux. A chelavista. Mr. Valentine, you have the expression, to be around while I have been around. No matter what Fabio says, there is danger, I know. But if you just don't want him to be near this Mrs. Devereaux, why don't you leave him behind? Take a different Piamas this time, then have her investigate. But we were threatened. We were told, yes, we were told we all had to make this trip just the same as usual. No change. Oh, well, wait a minute, now you said something, friend. I wish we could say more. It was an old type written left in our cabin. I wish we could say who sent it. Uh-huh, that's where I fit in. Well, to start with... Mr. Valentine, there is no time for more explanation. Every second counts. You are coming with us. What's that? Sue, this is a nice cabin, no? And all the ship's employees are living nice. There's even a swimming pool. Everyone is a king. Oh, I get it. So that's it. What kind of a crown have you picked for me to wear? The athletic instructor said you will take his place. Athletic instructor? Oh, Tarzan with sneakers. What about Miss Brooks? There is always room for an extra manicure in the ship's barbershop. I have angles. I can arrange it. Oh, George, I don't mind. I'd do anything. I'd love to. Easy, easy, Brooksie. Twelve days is a long time for it. Mr. Valentine, you must believe me. We are not crazy. We were threatened. Okay, okay, skip it. Well, Brooksie, if we're going to pack up the scissors and boxing gloves, we'd better get going. Oh, good old gang tank still here. May I have your stateroom numbers, please? We're ship's personnel. Oh, give me your names. I'll check them all. Claire Brooks, manicurist. Uh, uh, uh huh. Up you go. George, my red bag! Yeah, I got it. Don't worry, Valentine. Valentine. George Valentine, athletic director. Hey, come on, hurry up. What do you need? Oh, here it is. Hey, mister, you're already on board. Huh? There's your name crossed off already. Oh, you're nuts. I'm Valentine. Yeah, yeah, I know. It's an old trick, mister. Look, let me on board, Buster. I'll get the purse or he'll tell you. Spread it up next time. Look, fun is fun, Rollo, but hey, wait, I'll show you some identification. No, all I know is the orders I get and your name's checked off. But if you've got a real beef, there's a company man down at the pier there, a guy in a gray suit, bald, thin, and a black shirt. I'm not going to tell you. Nothing else I can do, mister. Okay, girl. Sorry, excuse me, will you? Let me through, will you? Please, excuse me. Hey, hey, you. Hey, hey. And go, and wait, Mathilda. Oh, brother. I don't care how much it costs. You run a water taxi, don't you? I don't care if you have to chase that ship all the way to San Miguel. Get going. Well, Valentine, the captain was certainly not impressed with your little demonstration of climbing land. But, Mr. Kelly, I... He said, Purser, I want you to speak harshly with this man. Very harshly. He held up the boat five minutes, five full minutes. Yes, sir, I know, I know. He said some other things, too, which I won't repeat. But look, Mr. Kelly, I told you the guy at the gang flank had crossed my name off. Nonsense. The employee of the docks, been there for years, never makes mistakes. Well, then somebody else used my name, I don't know. Well, we've just completed our usual inspection. There's no one extra on board. Excuses won't get you anywhere, Valentine. Okay, okay, I'm very sorry. That's better. Now, there's work to be done before morning. Sort out the shuffleboard equipment. Deck tennis net needs repairs. Yes, I'll get on it, Mr. Kelly. Oh, yes, and you might vulcanize that rubber horse for the swimming pool. I think it has a slow leak. Yes, I'm sure it does. Vulcanize. Oh, George. Oh, hi, Angel. Are you going to miss the boat on our honeymoon? Be forewarned, I'm a man with gang flank fever. All right, we'll take a train. George, I've spotted that Mrs. Devereaux already. Yeah? She has cabin three-eight. She's probably out on deck someplace now. She, uh, is not exactly what I expected. Oh, excuse me. Good evening. Oh, hello. My name is George Valentine. I'm the new athletic director. Oh, athletics. You, uh, you don't like them? They always make me think of gym bloomers. I'm Mrs. Devereaux. Oh, how do you do? I had a husband once who was an athlete. He played polo until the horses simply loathed him. Oh, I see. That's how he died, you know. One of the horses hit him back, right there in the fourth chucker. I didn't know. I'm sorry. Why? Nobody else was. Uh, well, I, I mean, I didn't realize Mr. Devereaux was... Oh, no, you're all confused. Mr. Devereaux ate himself to death. It was frightful. The doctor told him 300 pounds was too much, and it was. Oh. The one with horses was Mr. Phipps, my first. Now, do you understand? Oh, perfectly. Oh, music stops, hasn't it? It's such a shame making them play the first night just because it's a cruise ship, don't you think? Yes, yes, it is. I have to be going now. I'm meeting someone. Mr. Valentine, was there anything in particular you wanted to say to me? Oh, um, well, no, I, I just understood you'd been on this trip before, and you see, I'm new, so, well, I, I thought you might be able to give me some suggestions on organizing games and stuff. Oh, you certainly came barking up the wrong tree, didn't you? I, I may as well tell you this. Everyone else abhorred gossips about it, I suppose. I'm only here for one reason. There's a musician named Fabio. The sleepy one. Yes. Yes, he's lazy and charming and probably a liar, but he latters me, Mr. Valentine. Yes, I can see that. Mrs. Devereaux, didn't the orchestra used to be a quartet? Wasn't there another musician? A Jose or something like that? Well, you're getting confused again, aren't you? That I suppose it's because of all that exercise you do. Well, they've always been a trio. Bye bye, Mr. Valentine. Always a trio. Okay, Buster, where we going? I'm going to the jam. I'm allergic to being... Oh, blackjack, huh? Come on. Well, well. Stuart, cool haircut and all. Come on, now, let's hear some talking, brush-head. I can explain, Mr. Valentine. Don't hit me. Never mind. You're gonna round up the rest of the trio, drummer boy, and you're gonna round them up fast. We're having a little orchestra practice. Right now. Your young fool's daughter. But I told you, I was only gonna use the blackjack on myself. I mean, just lie there and make Mr. Valentine think I'd been knocked out. I romantic you. Please, I have business with... Okay, okay, all of you. You're going no place. And neither are we. That was the idea, wasn't it, gentlemen? To get us aboard the ship by telling us a phony story. Yeah, I mean, no, no, it's not phony. There was no musician named Jose who disappeared. And you neither know nor care about Mrs. Devereaux's ex-husband. Is that check? I told you she's a lovely woman. I wouldn't know lies. Very well, Mr. Valentine, you're right. Mrs. Bluebeard was a figment of the imagination, and we did want to lure you aboard. Sure, I wanted to make the story look better by having you find me like that, but we did get a note. That part of it is true. We were threatened. Well, we were. Okay, why? And this time I want the truth. Here, Mr. Valentine, we were going to tell you in due time. Look here in this drawer. Oh, look at all the cigarette cases. Uh-huh. Lighters, camera, wristwatch. And please understand, they are gifts. Gifts, not stolen. Oh, they're worth only a couple of hundred bucks altogether. Nothing big. Where they come from? Well, you see, a ship's musician is not overpaid, but when you have been around a while, there are tricks to help. Go on, go on. You see, in the days of prohibition, I was on European boats, and when we got to New York Harbor, I would invite a few friends aboard to a, shall we say, party. You mean you smuggle liquor? No, no, no, no, parties. That's all. I sell a few drinks to my friends. Uh-huh. And now what do you sell? To Mexico and back? For the ladies, natural perfume. But we don't even sell it. A few lovely friends come aboard, we exchange gifts. That is all. Tiny bottles, nothing the officials would object to. Yeah, but duty-free, just for some. Oh, you are splitting hairs. At least you will admit that it's nothing important enough for someone to threaten our lives over. Yet the note told us we had to make this next trip as usual. We had to. No change or else. Well, it could make sense if someone is using you for real smuggling. Exactly what we thought. Something they put in a gift bottle to perfume, I suppose. Now, where did you get them? There is a man in San Miguel who gives us cash for these presents. He also sells us the perfume. I see. And you got me along to hold hands with you the next time you go ashore to meet him. But don't you see, our only hope is to catch the real smugglers. Now, if we just came out and told anybody about all this, well, golly, the steamship company would fire us. The Union would take away our car. You guys ought to have your heads knocked together. And I should have mine examined. Please, in the meantime, you will enjoy the voyage. Look, friends, somebody's already tried to scratch me off. His name on the gangplank list. And the only one who could possibly touch that list are the ones who came up the gangplank. Yeah. Whoever runs this deal, whoever threatens people, is right here on this ship. Oh, bon voyage. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. If you've ever oiled a door hinge, you've seen the oil run down the hinge and collect at the bottom. Now, how about oil on parts inside your car's engine? How can you keep the oil from dripping off cylinder walls and pistons so these mirror-smooth surfaces are safe from corrosive rust? Believe me, no ordinary motor oil will stay on these vital parts for long. But RPM motor oil is compounded to keep a film of oil on every inch of internal metal at all times. Whether your car is running hot or standing cold, RPM won't drip off. It stays put, protecting parts left bare and exposed to wear by ordinary motor oils. RPM also stops sludgy carbon and lacquer deposits, keeps the whole engine system cleaner. No wonder motorists say RPM gives extra protection, and no wonder it's first choice in the West. Get it at standard stations and independent Chevron gas stations where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Music And now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. You're aboard the palatial luxury cruiser Southern Star under false pretenses and the three musicians who hired you were so nervous they played false notes on the truth. However, the voyage is well underway now and it's no secret that there's somebody aboard who doesn't want you around, somebody who's already tried to get you off the ship, somebody who has something to do with a dangerous bit of smuggling. Still, if you're as much a philosopher as George Valentine is, you resign yourself grimly to the hardships of a pleasure cruise to San Miguel. Any luck, George? No, you, Angel? Down in the beauty shop they think I'm crazy. You know, eager beaver kind of crazy. I've managed to give a manicure to every woman on this ship, plus half the men. Oh, you've learned about a hangout. Yeah, just about. George, I'm scared. Oh, now take it easy, Rose. They're not going to just let you go ashore with Paul at San Miguel. I know it. What do you suppose is in those bottles of perfume, Narcotics? Oh, I don't know. The way I see it, Brooks, our job is to run a switch, change the whole routine. Excuse me. Oh, Mrs. Devereaux. Well, I see you've met somebody, haven't you? Isn't it wonderful aboard ship how everybody manages to meet somebody? Yes, we were just talking about... Talking about the dance tonight, of course. You are coming, aren't you? Everyone's invited, you know. The dance? Oh, yes, yes, I'll be there. But you'll dance with me, won't you, Mr. Valentine? I mean, it's frightful if you like to dance and like a musician at the same time. I mean, never the train shall meet. I mean, well, don't you think so? Mr. Kelling, what time do we go ashore tomorrow? Oh, I don't know. Anchor around eight, officials come aboard, we send a lighter in with the baggage. Around eleven, perhaps. I see. Anyway, as I was saying... Hello. Well, you look very lovely, Miss Brooks. Perhaps you'd care to... Oh, Mr. Valentine. Oh, look, Mr. Kelling, all day that woman's been hounding me. She's afraid you won't ask her to dance. Why, Mr. Valentine? Yeah, she thinks you're the best dancer on the ship. Why, if it isn't Mrs. Devereaux, shall we? Oh, Mr. Valentine. I was just saying, you look lovely tonight. Lovely. Very neat. Uh-oh, what's the matter, darling? Brooks, listen, meet me on the boat deck in five minutes. What is? I'm going to take up the profession of smuggling myself, that's all. Boat deck in five minutes. George. I'll see you later. Ah, hello, my friend. Okay, I want to talk, Paul. So? This is a good place back here. Strange, no? There's something I wish to say, too. I have been thinking and discussing with Fabio... Yeah, what about? The reason we were threatened in the first place. The reason the smugglers did not just let things take their natural course. Okay, go on. When we arrived in the States the last time, we did not make the usual telephone calls to invite our perfume friends aboard. No? No. Instead, there was a little delay while we debated. You see, Fabio thought it would be a good idea to just give all our perfume to this woman he wishes to impress, Mrs. Deveraux. Only you and Stu voted him down. Yes, but it must have been the delay that scared someone, no? Mm-hmm. Yeah, it makes sense. I think it is very interesting. And tomorrow, perhaps... Paul, you're staying aboard ship tomorrow. What? I want you to give me all those cigarette cases and junk you sell to the man in San Miguel. I got a plan. George? George? George! It's me. Oh. What's the matter? You're disappointed? No, I... Oh, of course not, Stuart. It's so hard to ever find you alone to talk to. Oh, we're all so busy. This is the boat deck, isn't it? Uh-huh. Best place to be alone on the whole ship. Yeah, I suppose it is. Gee, you're beautiful. You've got eyes like... like the stars. Why, Stuart? A fellow gets a lot of experience traveling, you know, but I... I've never had anything happen like this. You mean smuggling? Oh, that. Only... that. Yeah. Maybe that's it in a way. Gosh, tomorrow we may all be thrown in jail or die or something. Stuart, what time is it? I don't care, though. None of it's important. Time or space or... Oh, Stuart, for heaven's sake. Huh? This... Oh. Somebody's overboard. No, the pool. Look, it's a man. I think I can reach him. George! Take it easy, darling. You've been asleep, that girl. Yeah, sure, and her hammer works. The doctor gave you a sedative. It was out of way before. Just for a few minutes last night. Last what? Hey, and, Booksy, the ship's not moving. Where's my watch? It's ten o'clock in the morning. Huh? George, who was it? Who did it? Somebody's hurrying along the deck in the Empire State Building, fellow me. Ten o'clock. Almost shore time. Hey, Booksy, hand me my coat. I will not. Come on, come on, give me a boost. George, I don't care about that smuggling. Those crazy musicians can take their medicine. I don't care. Somebody try to kill me, Booksy. That's what I mean. They'll do it again. Angel, and what's left of my head? I remember there's something to find out. There we are. Oh, the cigarette case isn't... Yeah, last night I picked up this stuff. Then after Paul left, I dumped it in this locker for safekeeping. I was planning to sneak it ashore on the first lighter as a baggage boy, try to trade it for perfume. But I guess it takes a knock on my head to give you perspective. What do you mean? I mean, everybody figures a smuggle only works one way, into the United States. But remember that threatening note the boys got? Yeah. Well, that threat would make a lot more sense, wouldn't it, if the sender of the note knew the stuff was already in their hands, packaged for delivery? And ready to be smuggled into Mexico. Yeah. Oh, golly, there's nothing in this one. Wait a minute, Angel, this camera. Oh, George, it's a bracelet. Yeah, little bauble. It's too hard to be peddled in the States, I guess. And there are some millionaires in South America, too. Well, hello. Oh, Fabio. The birds are here. Our music is over. I'm on my way for a little nap. What are you doing? Mr. Valentine, you should not be up. I'm all right. Oh, but your head, gee. Yes, you should sit down. You look pale. First vote for sure, everyone. First vote for sure. Hurry, please, everyone going for. Mr. Kelding. Hurry, please. Mr. Kelding, come here. What? Why, Mr. Valentine, you should not be. No, I'm all right. I'm all right. I just realized I like a lot of people around. That's all I need them. Oh, please, I am so sleepy. Then wake up, Fabio. The Brooksie show at home. See? Yeah. Sure, it's pretty, isn't it? Maybe there's even some more on this trip. I don't know yet. What in heaven's name are you talking about? Okay, Mr. Kelding, I'll make it fast. Somebody in the United States wants to send this stuff to somebody in Mexico. Somebody like the perfume man. They get a smuggler to supervise the deal and the smuggler picks a patsy. No, no, no, three patsies, Mr. Valentine. Only this time the smuggler knew I was aboard and he made a slip of the pencil. I do not understand. Well, I'll tell you, it's been bothering me for a long time and now I think I've got it. My name was crossed off the gangplank list, remember? Yes, someone did it while coming aboard to stop you from being here. You keep saying that, Fabio, and you'll realize how silly it sounds. What? Now how could anyone walking up a gangplank draw a line on a piece of paper in somebody else's hand? Well, gee, maybe he... Uh-uh. It just didn't happen, that's all. Oh, now really, the line was there. Correct, Paul. But the line must have already been there before the gangplank guard ever got the list. Okay, Mr. Kelding, you're the presser. Maybe you can tell me what on a ship or who on a ship would be responsible for marking up such a list. Can you tell me, Mr. Kelding? I... And who'd have access to everyone's cabin to smuggle things in and out and leave typewrite and notes? I ain't got no book out. He's tougher than you think. I should have used a gun on you last night, Valentine. Oh, no, but here's your chance for round two. Well, Angel, that's it. And like Fabio, I'm very sleepy. Yes, Mr. Valentine, I promise, never again will I organize little parties for my friends when the ship reaches. Oh, yeah? Look at Fabio over there by the rail with Mrs. Devereux. Yeah, that's the right idea. No, no, no, I'm too old, much too old. But I've been thinking, you know, stamps, people collect stamps, and I travel many places. Perhaps if I could organize... Paul, if you don't mind, we'd like to be alone. Oh, excuse me, excuse me. Well, this is something new, darling. Oh, I just like to look at the moon, that's all. All right, I want to look at the moon. George, it's still several days until we get back home. And the captain does seem to be an obliging sort of man. There's even an orchestra right here. I mean, well, doesn't it give you any ideas? Oh, sure, Angel, sure. How about organizing a game of shuffleboard tomorrow? Oh. At some time or other, everybody has seen Joe Smith go whizzing along the highway with his boy beside him and big broad smiles on their faces. If we were in the back seat, we might hear Junior say, Hey, Pop, what did you do? Soup this car up? And if it's the Joe Smith I know, he'd answer, No, son, I just got a tank full of Chevron Supreme gasoline. Now, you just try this premium quality gasoline in your own car, and I'll bet you'll agree, Chevron Supreme gets the best out of your car. It's specially blended to give faster starts, faster warmups, alert getaway and traffic. And its ping-free power just lifts you over the hills, and hills you used to call steep, too. The Chevron Supreme is climate tailored. It meets every driving condition in the West's different altitude and temperature zones. In fact, for today's high-compression engines, you can't buy a better gasoline. Ask for it at independent Chevron gas stations and at standard stations, where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. Next week, in the midst of another adventure, you will find George Valentine and Brooksie at the scene of an automobile accident, and... It must be suicide, George, don't you think so? I think so now more than ever, Brooksie. What do you mean? This note the police took off Freeholder's body. Old man Sturman was leaving him a quarter of a million dollars, quote, with full knowledge of the misstep Freeholder made as an accountant, unquote. Oh, do you think he killed himself so he wouldn't have to answer for embezzlement? I don't know, Angel, but it gives me an idea. There are two other people mentioned in the will, and right now I'd like to find out what's in store for them. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California. On behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and Standard stations throughout the West, Robert Bailey is starred as George with Francis Robinson as Brooksie. Let George Do It was written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Ted deCoursey as Paul, Jerry Hausner as Stuart, Jay Novello as Fabio, Junius Matthews as the Purser, and Lee Patrick as Mrs. Devereaux. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstether. Your announcer, John Heston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It. This is the Mutual Damley Broadcasting System.
