And now, tonight's presentation of Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tonight we bring you a classic short story by James Thurber. So now, starring Mr. John
Schaner, here is our Suspense play, A Friend to Alexander.
I've taken to dreaming about Aaron Burr every night. What for? How do I know what for? What
for, the woman says. You do look tired, Harry. Well, a session like I had last night is worse
than no sleep at all. I should look tired. Aaron Burr. He's a funny person to be dreaming
about nowadays. I mean, with all the talk about the A bombs, the H bombs, the election and
everything, I wish you'd go see Dr. Fox. Oh, nonsense. Well, maybe you need some different
vitamins or maybe some of those new pills, those Star Axe, Aratrix, what do they call
them again? What, Reserpene, Chlorpromazine, one of the tranquilizers? No, no, it's another
name. Oh, Ataraxix. Oh, that's it. Ataraxix, tranquilizers, all the same thing. Well,
maybe you need some of those. They're supposed to do wonders for people. All I need is to
stop seeing Aaron Burr every time I close my eyes. I don't see why you see him in your
dreams. Where do you see him? Oh, places, maybe Washington Square, Bowling Green or
on Broadway. Right here in town? How odd. Well, he lived in New York, you know. I'll
be talking to a woman in a Victoria, a woman holding a white lace parasol. Oh. Yeah, and
suddenly there's Burr, bowing, smiling and smelling like a carnation. Harry, will you
get me a cigarette, please? Sure. He'll be telling the stories about France and getting
off his insults. Here you are, Bess. Hey, when did you start smoking before breakfast?
Just hold the light where I can reach it, please. All right. Who is the woman in the
Victoria, Harry? Hmm, what? That you dream about. Oh, how do I know people in dreams?
They're nobody at all or everybody? You see Aaron Burr plainly enough. I mean, he isn't
nobody or everybody. All right, all right, but I don't know who the woman is. Maybe it's
Madame Chumel or Mittens Willett or a girl I knew in high school. It's not important.
Who is Mittens Willett? Well, she was a famous actress 75 years ago or so. She's buried in
an old cemetery on Second Avenue. Oh, oh, goodness, you're so well read. Hmm, it's
very sad about Mittens Willett, isn't it? Why? Why is it? Well, I mean, she probably
died young. Almost all women did in those days. Oh, Harry, please don't pace back and
forth like that. You know what he did? I was standing talking to Alexander Hamilton and
Burr stepped up and slapped him in the face. Alexander Hamilton? My goodness. Yes. And
then when I look at Hamilton, who do you suppose he was? I don't know, dear. Who was he? He
was my brother, the one who was killed by that drunk in the cemetery. Just stand aside
there, fellow. Why? Why should I? Perhaps you don't recognize a former officer of the
Revolutionary Army and a United States Senator. I recognize you all right, Burr. You may have
been an officer, but Washington hated you. As for winning that election for my friend's
father-in-law, well, I bet there was something crooked about the way the ballots were counted.
More bacon, Harry? Another egg? Did the Giants win last night? It is the Giants you like,
isn't it? I wish he'd go back to France and stay there. Who, dear? What do you think?
Oh, you mean Aaron Burr. Did you dream about him again? I don't see why you dream about
him all the time. Don't you think you ought to take some luminol? No, no, no. Last night
he kept shoving Alexander around. Alexander? Hamilton. I certainly know him well enough
by this time to call him by his first name. He hides behind my coattails every night,
practically. Oh, Harry, dear, you shouldn't dwell on your nightmares or whatever they
are. Oh, that's what they are. There's no mistake about it. We ought to get out in the
country over the weekend. Why don't we go to the old Drover's Inn? You like it there.
You know, Hamilton has not only become my brother Walter, but practically every guy
I ever really liked. Well, that's just natural, I guess. Well, of course it is, dear. Harry,
I do wish you'd go to Dr. Fox. I'm going to the zoo and feed popcorn to the rhinoceros.
That makes things seem all right. For a little while, anyway.
Oh, you're not going through with it, Berg. Certainly I'm going through with it. He accepted
the challenge. But Mr. Hamilton had no intention of harming you. He just proved that. Your
friend brought this on himself, fellow. Hamilton called me, and I use his own words, a dangerous
man of whom I could detail a more despicable opinion. Let this be a warning that Aaron
Berg, Brooks' insult from no man. No, don't, Berg, Alexander, look out. He's going to...
Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry. There they go. Wake up, dear.
Oh, Bess, Bess, find the light, please. Harry, oh, you frighten me so. Yes, there. Oh, dear.
What was it? Berg got him. He got Alexander. Oh, Bess,
that dirty rotten... Oh, Harry, Harry, let me hold you. It's all
right, dear, it's all right. It was just another nightmare, but it's all right now. Alexander,
he just fired into the air. He fired into the air and smiled at him, just like Walter,
and then... There, there, Harry.
Oh, and then Berg, a fiend, he took deliberate aim. I saw him take deliberate aim, and he
killed poor Alexander in cold blood. Here, take this, Harry. Then you'll be able
to go back to sleep. Yeah, yeah. Well, I ran to Alexander, but
he was dead. There was just nothing I could do. You'd better take another, dear, too.
Don't hurt you. And then Berg swaggered over. He's always a nasty, sneering, foppish man,
and he stood over us, and he actually laughed, and I looked down at Alexander, and his face
was Walter's face. Oh, Harry.
It was Walter's... Harry, darling, darling. Look, I'm going to stay here with you for
the rest of the night. Everything will be all right, and we'll go and see the doctor
tomorrow. Now, just what seems to be the trouble, Mr.
Andrews? Nothing seems to be the trouble.
He has nightmares, Dr. Fox. Oh, I see. You look a little underweight, perhaps.
Are you eating well, Mr. Andrews, getting enough exercise?
I'm not underweight. I eat the way I always have and get the same exercise.
Now, Harry, your appetite certainly isn't good in the morning.
Well, naturally not in the morning. You see, Doctor, I think he's worried about
something because he always has this same dream.
Same dream, eh? It's about his brother, Walter, who was killed
in a cemetery by a drunken man. Only, it isn't really about him.
It's Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton. Well, very few people actually killed in cemeteries.
Well, would you mind stepping into the next room, Mr. Andrews?
You may as well begin with the electrocardiograph and proceed with basal metabolism, cranial
microchrography. And so, from what we can determine thus far,
I think we can say that you're in tipped-up shape, Mr. Andrews.
I make it a point to keep in shape. I very much doubt that the lab will turn up
anything. Meanwhile, we know that the heart of yours
is fine. Sound is a dollar. Oh, Harry, that's wonderful news.
Even sounder, I might say. My bent was toward economics rather than medicine.
The pills I gave you will fix up any temporary difficulty you may experience in falling asleep.
Well, it wasn't the falling asleep, Dr. Fox. It was what happened after he got there.
Yes. Well, you might call me in a week or so, Mr. Andrews.
Yeah, I'll do that. Come on, Bess. Goodbye, Doctor, and thank you so much.
Not at all. Nice to see both of you. Well, I hope you're satisfied. There's nothing
to matter with me at all. I'm glad your heart's so fine. He said it
was fine, you know. Sure it's fine. Everything's fine.
And I was thinking, dear, now that Alexander Hamilton is dead, you won't see anything
more of Aaron Burr. And the man says, I quit because I couldn't
stand the cooking odor. Oh, Mr. Andrews, how priceless.
Yeah, I thought it was rather funny myself. I failed to see the humor. I thought it rather
coarse. Oh, it's you, Burr. Why don't you leave, my good man?
I'll leave after I've had a talk with you, maybe. Not before.
I see. Lovely ladies, will you excuse me for a moment?
Certainly, Mr. Burr. Come, ladies. Now, my good man.
And don't you, my good man, me, you murderer. I presume you refer to the affair of honor
in which I engaged Hamilton. You know darn well I do.
Let me say merely that had I been called a murderer by one more nearly my equal, I should
deal with him as I dealt with Hamilton. Just who are you anyway, ubiquitous Claude?
I am Henry Andrews. Harry to my friends, I'm an architect.
An architect. And you presume to converse with a soldier, a barrister, the second highest
elective officer of the Republic, and a gentleman. You may be all those things except the last
one, but you disobeyed your superiors in the army. As far as I'm concerned, your kind of
lawyers are on an ethical level with jockeys. You're vice president all right enough, but
you tried to double cross Jefferson so you'd get the top job. And don't go calling yourself
a gentleman because you deliberately shot Alexander after he had fired his bullet into
the air.
But I fired mine with my eyes closed.
You what?
Certainly. Or as my French friends say, certainement.
Oh, and incidentally, don't you and your French friends try any funny business with that Mexican
conquest and settlement deal either. You're liable to end up in court on a charge of treason.
We were discussing my marksmanship. Let me inform you that I have upon occasion hit the
ace of spades at 30 paces blindfolded.
I'll bet.
If you were not so far beneath me, I would send my seconds to call upon you. Henceforth
be on your good behavior, fellow. I shall have one of my lackeys give you a taste of
the writing crop.
More coffee, Harry?
Harry!
Bess, Bess, don't! Don't do that.
But you were a million miles away.
No, I wasn't. I've been sitting right here.
Did you have another dream about that man?
I wish I'd never told you about it. Just forget it, will you?
I can't forget it with you going on this way. Harry, I think you ought to see a psychiatrist.
Oh, they're all quacks, a pack of quacks. Dr. Fox told you I was all right.
What does he do now?
What does who do now?
Aaron Byrd.
Oh, well, he goes around bragging that he dueled Hamilton with his eyes closed. Furthermore,
since you ask me, he jostles me at parties now.
Harry, I've simply got to get you away from here. Maybe if you slept someplace else for
a few nights.
What place else?
Well, why don't we go to the country for the weekend? Let's go to Lime Rock Lodge.
Well, if we're going to the country, why don't we visit the Crowley's? You like them, don't
you?
Oh, of course I do.
Bob has a pistol. And we could do a little target shooting.
Oh, what do you want to shoot a pistol for? I should think you'd want to get away from
that.
I just might have figured out how to get away from it.
Sister, fifty times just as fast as you can. That's the secret of a martini boy.
Well, nobody makes them like you, Bob.
Ah, thank you.
Ah, this.
Thank you.
Alice.
Thank you, darling.
There you are, Harry.
Thank you, Bob.
Well, here's a go.
Down the hatch.
Cheers.
Well, how you been, boy?
Oh, never better, Bob. Never better. Gee, it's good to be here.
Oh, a nice peaceful weekend is just what Harry needs.
We were so pleased when you called. We've simply been vegetating. The servants are getting
fed up with taking care of just the two of us.
Oh, do you still have Madison and Clifita?
Oh, of course.
They are so priceless.
Oh, I'm glad you're here.
As I so aptly put it to General Arnold of Quebec, a defensive strategy may save men,
but an offensive force wins the battle.
That's why I hate you, Burr.
Human lives mean nothing to you.
Ah, observe now who says he hates me.
Henry Andrews.
One Henry Andrews, an architect.
Look, don't you ever push me again.
One Henry Andrews, an architect.
A menial laborer.
Now, you just wait a minute.
You have to go to college to be an architect, you know.
I failed to recall the subject on the curriculum at the College of New Jersey where I matriculated.
Well, maybe they didn't teach it there, but look what College of New Jersey turned out
to be.
Princeton and your bragging.
May I remind you of your previous conversation?
The one in which I discussed my unerring marksmanship?
May I remind you that you killed my friend Alexander?
Ha!
A friend to Alexander.
Use care, my man.
The phrase might well make an epitaph.
Well, challenge me.
Go ahead.
I dare you.
Harry!
I dare you, Burr.
I dare you.
Harry, wake up!
Please wake up, dear.
Harry!
Pestle, don't shake me like that.
Darling, you were practically shouting, and it's only four o'clock.
You wake Bob and Alice.
One Henry Andrews, an architect.
That's what he calls me now.
Oh, I hoped you weren't going to dream about him anymore.
I thought if I brought you up here, you might...
It's him or me, Bess.
I can't stand this forever.
Oh, Nadek and I, Harry.
Oh, Bess, dear, it's all right.
I'm sorry.
Look, look, honey, you go back to sleep and forget the whole thing.
It'll be daylight soon.
I'm going to sneak out very quietly and get some air.
Bob?
Yes, yes, Alice, I'm awake.
I heard them.
Not again.
I'm afraid so.
He's out there peppering away at that doggone tart.
We better get up, Bob.
Go out and get him and I'll put on some coffee.
He'll need some.
Where's that other darn sliver?
I got it.
Is he walking asleep or what?
Well, Bess says he never walks in his sleep.
Do you see he'll be petrified again?
Madison too, I suppose.
Tell him what you told him yesterday, that he couldn't sleep and he just went out to
shoot a little.
I'm so glad to see them.
But I'll be so glad when they go this afternoon.
Me too.
Oh, come on, dear.
You know, he said a funny thing when I went out to get him yesterday.
I could stand a funny thing.
I'll get him one of these nights, he said.
I don't suppose poor Bess can sleep through this.
We'll see how she could.
Better knock on her door and see if she's ready for some coffee too.
Bob, what's wrong with Harry anyway?
Search me.
I guess it's like Clotheda said.
He just seems to have the shoots.
I'm sorry the weekend turned out like it did, dear.
No, it's all right.
I thought it might work too.
And in a way, maybe it did work.
Well, it does seem good to be home.
I mean, our own apartment and our own things, our own schedule.
This is better.
Another night, Cat Bess?
No, dear, but you go right ahead.
Yeah, I'll have one more splash and then turn in.
Oh, golly, I'm tired.
Harry, why don't you sleep in my room tonight?
Well, you'd keep shaking me all night to keep me awake.
No, no, I wouldn't, dear.
Only if you...
You're afraid to let me meet him.
Oh, I am afraid, Harry.
Terribly afraid.
Well, why do you always think everybody else is better than I am?
I can out-shoot him the best day he ever lived.
That isn't what I meant about being afraid.
Furthermore, I have a modern pistol.
He has to use an old-fashioned single-shot muzzleloader.
Is that quite fair, Harry?
What do I care if it's fair or not?
Please don't be mad with me, Harry.
Harry, I'm...
Oh, I'm so unhappy.
I'm sorry, dear.
Don't you worry about me, Bess.
I'll be all right.
I'll be fine.
We'd better go up, dear.
Now, please don't.
Don't cry anymore.
Well, I...
I'm trying to stop.
Sure.
Now, now, good night, kiss, darling.
Everything's going to be fine.
I'm ready to take care of everything now.
No matter what happens, I love you, Harry.
I've loved you more every day we've had together.
Kiss me again, dearest.
Kiss me just once more.
Very well, Andrews.
My code as a gentleman will permit no further insolence.
If you insist upon ending it, thus...
I do insist.
I assume your blindfold is secure.
I assume yours is.
And we have agreed upon ten paces.
Well, are you ready, fellow?
You bet I am.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...
You're his regular physician, are you, Dr. Fox?
That's right.
I examined him only four or five days ago.
So the lady said.
That's why we called you in.
As long as he's been under treatment within 30 days, you just sign the death certificate
and our office doesn't have to bother with an autopsy.
I understand.
Usual procedure.
I know it's tough on you, Mrs. Andrews, the shock and all, but it's the way I hope it
happens to me when the time comes.
Peaceful, quiet, quick, in my own bed.
Heart just quits.
You know, it's extraordinary.
His heart was as sound as a dollar when I examined him.
Now it's just stopped, as if he'd been shot.
They'll go that way sometimes.
Dr. Fox.
Look.
Harry's right hand.
Clenched a bit, Mrs. Andrews.
Nothing unusual.
But the three bottom fingers and the thumb, like they were gripping a handle.
Rather, yes.
And see the index finger, how it's curved, as if he were just about to press the trigger
on a pistol.
Rigor mortis, Mrs. Andrews, the hands will take an odd position sometimes in rigor mortis.
Harry never even fired a shot.
Aaron Burr killed him the way he killed Alexander Hamilton.
Mrs. Andrews, take it easy.
Aaron Burr shot him through the heart.
I knew he would.
Doctor, what in the name of heaven?
Oh, poor Andrews.
I should have done something at the time.
This could even have been contributory.
I'm not too sure I follow you.
You see, she came in with her husband the other day.
She spoke and she acted most peculiarly.
I should have done something.
What is this Aaron Burr Alexander Hamilton business?
Obsessive hallucination of hers.
Mrs. Andrews very evidently suffers from one of the schizoid psychoses.
I'm afraid you'll have to be committed.
Suspense in which Mr. John Danaer starred in tonight's presentation of A Friend to Alexander.
Be sure to join us again when we bring you another presentation of radio's outstanding
theater of thrills.
That's next time on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed in Hollywood by Anthony Ellis.
You have heard A Friend to Alexander written by James Thurber and adapted for Suspense
by Fran von Hartesfeld.
The music was composed and conducted by Fred Steiner.
Featured in the cast were Paula Winslow, Ben Wright, Victor Rodman, Miriam Wolfe, Charlotte
Lawrence, Joseph Kearns, and Larry Thor.
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