Suspense and the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery
and adventure, William M. Robeson.
One of the axioms of drama might be summed up in the words, don't cheat the audience.
Yet, one of the most famous short stories of the century, The Lady of the Tiger, does
just that.
No, we are not about to bring you that famous masterpiece, but the story we are going to
tell, in addition to being well calculated to keep you in suspense, is also guaranteed
to start a lot of arguments, none of which we hope will become too serious.
Frankly, we don't know whether Sophronia Winters or Hiram Johnson is telling the truth,
and whether one or both of them are crazy.
But there's one point at which we can all agree, Sophronia's diary makes mighty thrilling
reading.
Listen, listen then, as Miss Mercedes R. Cambridge stars in The Diary of Sophronia
Winters, which begins in just a moment.
Another visit with Joe and Daphne Forsythe.
Hey honey, I'm home.
Daphne.
Rock dead.
Uh oh, what's the matter honey?
Don't you speak to me, you, you don Juan.
Don Juan?
Daphne, I'm no don Juan.
No, hablespanol.
Very funny, ha ha ha.
Well, it was no prize winner, but...
Neither are you, you, you lethario.
I've often wondered, what's a lethario?
I don't know, but that's what the wives on TV always call their husbands.
I guess it applies.
You want me to go out and come in again?
As far as I'm concerned, you can go for a long walk, preferably on a short pier.
Well, oh come on Daphne, what's wrong?
You know, I went to a good friend Harry called and he spilled the beans.
Which beans?
He said, quote, tell Joe he was right about those blondes, they're great, unquote.
Blondes?
That's what he said.
Ho ho ho.
Well?
He didn't say blondes, he said bonds, savings bonds.
What?
Sure, I buy them on the payroll savings plan.
And I told Harry he ought to do it too.
Savings bonds have a guaranteed interest that pays back four dollars for every three, which
is a pretty good investment.
That's a pretty good story too.
It's true, so help me.
That's why Harry's so happy.
Savings bonds are great.
Well, maybe you're right.
You wouldn't really fool around with blondes, would you?
You're too faithful and sweet and kind and...
Fast talking.
And now...
The Diary of Sopronia Winters, starring Mercedes McCambridge.
A tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
February 1st, St. Petersburg, Florida.
I, Sopronia Winters, have hereby begun this diary, because on this date I feel for the
first time in my sixty years that I have begun to live.
It happened this morning.
I had just settled myself on the beach when I noticed a man, a thrilling looking man,
strolling toward me.
Well, sitting out here all by your lonesome?
Oh, well, yes.
Yes, I am.
Didn't I see you last night over at the Starfish Tea Room?
The Starfish Tea Room?
Oh, yes, yes, I was there yesterday.
Well, I said we might have a good table over there.
Mind if I sit down beside you?
Not at all.
Oh, just a minute.
Sit down this magazine.
This sand sticks to your clothes.
Oh, sand, don't bother me.
Johnson's name, Hiram Johnson, come from Green Harbor, Maine.
We're in a big hotel up there, summers.
That's my whole history in a nutshell.
My name is Sopronia.
Sopronia Winters.
Sopronia?
Mm-hmm.
You know, that's quite coincidence.
My sister-in-law's name is Sopronia.
Sopronia Johnson.
You ever heard of her?
She looked quite a bit like you.
Sopronia Johnson?
No, I'm afraid I haven't.
Who was she?
Someone very famous?
I'm so ignorant about these things.
No, Sopronia wasn't very famous up in the state of Maine for a while, some time back.
Well, what will that sun climb to?
I'd say it was close to lunchtime, and I'm going on a hunger strike unless you have lunch
with me.
Very nice, very nice.
Dear, dear diary, now I know what they mean by the young in heart.
There is indeed a boy for every girl in the world, and I have found mine.
He is so kind and so generous and so strong and I am so weak because I want to be.
Oh, what's the good of waiting, Sopronia? I gotta be back at the hotel in a week. We may never see each other again.
Oh, Hiram, don't say that. I couldn't bear it.
Then let's do it right away. Tomorrow.
There's a passing out on Coral Avenue. Do the job for us.
We can take a nice moonlight drive out to the alligator farm afterwards and have a nice shore dinner.
Then climb on board the Orange Blossom tomorrow night for Maine.
Oh, but what would your family think? Wouldn't they be shocked?
Family's all dead. I'm my own boss.
Now just be the two of us alone together.
The two of us alone together.
The two of us alone together.
But dear Diary, not exactly as I had imagined it.
Our wedding trip north on the Orange Blossom Express was all that I could have dreamed of.
But now, now we are at the end of the journey.
Looming in front of us in the deepening winter twilight is a huge resort hotel, Hiram's Hotel.
Its wide veranda empty, its ancient cupolas menacing against the gray sky,
and not a single light burning at any of its hundreds of windows.
What are you locking the gate for, Hiram?
Why not? Nobody coming in after us or going out again for a while.
But I thought you said the hotel.
The hotel is empty.
Hiram.
Well, what is it now?
Hiram, darling, I know it sounds silly, but let's not go in there tonight.
It's so dark and empty. Let's wait until morning. Let's stay in the village just for tonight.
We're staying here. Now, get inside.
Oh, my arm.
You remember me telling you down in Florida about the sister-in-law, Seponia?
Yes.
Well, that's her. That painting there on the wall. Now, you take a look at her. Good luck.
But why?
She was a murderess. She was hanged in Portland 25 years ago for the murder of my brother, Ephraim,
here in the lobby of this hotel. They come downstairs singing a hymn and murdered him in cold blood with an axe.
That's fire, axe hanging over there on the wall.
Oh, horrible.
Now, you stand over there under that painting.
Hiram, I...
Get over there.
Hiram, please, you're hurting me.
Now, you stand there quietly.
Now, you remember I said you resembled my dead sister-in-law?
Well, you do. You are a spitting image.
In a moment, we continue with the second act of...
Suspense.
In what form can an act of military heroism be acknowledged?
In one example, the form is a rectangular blue ribbon set in a gold-colored metal frame of laurel leaves,
worn centered over the right breast pocket of the uniform.
A bronze oak leaf cluster may be affixed to the ribbon for each subsequent award of the same decoration.
This is the emblem of the Distinguished Unit Citation,
awarded to units of our armed forces and those of our allies for extraordinary heroism in action against an armed enemy.
One of America's newer military decorations, it is designated to recognize activity on or after December 7, 1941.
The Distinguished Unit Campaign streamer is blue, with the name of the cited action embroidered in white.
To be eligible for this citation, the degree of heroism required is the same as that which,
in an individual, would warrant the presentation of our second highest award for valor, the Distinguished Service Cross.
The Distinguished Unit Emblem may be worn permanently by all those involved in the cited action,
but for those individuals joining the unit later, the emblem may be worn only for the duration of their assignment.
Both as individuals and as members of military units, America's servicemen have proved themselves worthy of medals,
and worthy of admiration by their countrymen.
And now, starring Mercedes McCambridge, act two of The Diary of Sophronia Winters.
I cannot understand it, and my heart is heavy.
The hotel is deserted, unchanged and apparently uninhabited for 25 years.
Wash bowls and pitchers still stand in the empty rooms covered with cobwebs.
The great dining room with its oak woodwork is alive with rats,
and a row of broken rocking chairs on the front porch faces emptily out to sea.
Does he mean this, to be my home?
And now, my dear, let me show you the grounds.
Oh, but it's dark.
I want to show you where my sister-in-law Sophronia is buried.
But can't I see it tomorrow, in the daylight?
You'll see it now, Sophronia.
Irem, you're hurting me.
I'm sorry, my dear, but you must learn to do what I say, and then we shall have no trouble.
There we are, just yonder on that mound.
That's where my sister-in-law Sophronia was laid away 25 years ago.
She was a stranger, ourselves, out of service, out here by herself on the grounds.
Ethan's buried in town, but not Sophronia.
I had a feeling I'd have to keep an eye on her.
Keep an eye on her?
Yeah. I knew she was one of those restless sleepers who wouldn't stay quiet in a grave.
You mean you think she haunts this place?
Nope, not this place.
She never had any use for it, alive or dead.
No, she makes for the warmer climates.
She was always a cold-blooded little woman, freezing and shivering all the time.
Places like California and Texas and Florida, she makes fun.
Florida?
Yeah, one of her favorite haunts, particularly around St. Petersburg.
She likes the flowers and the sun, the romance.
Irem, I feel cold. I'm shivering.
Do you mind if I go inside now?
Wait a minute, I haven't explained everything.
You see those butchers over there?
Under every one of them's a grave.
See, I found her wandering the earth in disguise three times.
I killed her three times.
Still don't do any good. She's still restless.
You mean you killed three different women?
Yep.
Now I keep another grave open for a reminder.
Waiting now. Would you like to see it, Sopronia?
Oh, no. No, Irem, no, please. I...
You afraid to see it, Sopronia?
No, I...
Oh, Irem, you don't think just because my name happens to be Sopronia and that I look a little like...
Think what, Sopronia?
Nothing.
Well, I...
Well, we mustn't have you catch the cold, my dear.
Well, you come back along the hotel, I'll show you to your room.
My room?
Yes, Sopronia, your room.
Now, this room's cleanest in the hotel.
Always expect you to be occupied again sometime.
There you see. Kept everything just as it was.
Oh, Irem.
Huh? What's the matter?
Nothing. It's just that...
Seemed kind of familiar?
No. No.
Ah, just as she left at that afternoon, she walked downstairs to murder my brother.
Serum embroidery on the table, needles sticking in it.
Her hymn book still open.
She's very fond of singing hymns, Sopronia was.
Had a nice voice, too.
I used to accompany her on the harmonium down the parlor.
Oh.
Well, I'll turn down the bed for you.
And you can get undressed while I go make you some hot tea.
No, I don't want any.
Now, there's the closet.
You can put on one of Sopronia's dressing gowns, make yourself at home.
Irem, why are you locking my door?
It's safer, my dear.
Safer?
Yeah. Always lock doors, outside and inside.
Windows, too. Much safer for everybody.
It must be nearly midnight now.
I don't know.
I don't know how long it's been since he locked that door on me
and left me alone in this horrible room
with its hideous little mementos of a dead murderous.
I have lit the pink-flowered oil lamp
and I am sitting here at her little wicker table
trying to maintain my sanity as I write this.
I can hear him downstairs
in the shabby little parlor off the lobby
playing the harmonium,
playing the same piece over and over again.
My hand has just brushed against her needlework
lying beside the open hymn book,
open at the same hymn he is playing,
the same hymn he is playing.
I shall go mad!
I shall go mad!
I shall go mad!
In a moment, we continue with the third act of...
Suspense.
We have together ample capacity in freedom to defend freedom.
This is NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.
Day after day, month after month, since April 4, 1949,
the activities of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization
have moved steadily forward on many fronts.
This complete cooperation must and will continue
because the concept of national self-sufficiency is out of date.
Countries of the free world are interdependent
and only in genuine partnership,
and by combining their resources,
carrying tasks in many fields,
can progress and safety be found.
The United States of America is a part of NATO.
You should be aware of and alert to
the objectives and programs of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.
And now, starring Mercedes McCambridge,
Act 3 of the Diary of Sopronia Winters.
February 12. Can it be only a week
since I became the bride of a madman?
Now I live only from moment to moment,
listening to each creak on the stairs,
each note as it slowly wheezes from the old harmonium,
wondering when he will come for me,
when he will drag me out
to join those other Sopronias in their frosty graves
beneath the naked virgin.
Sopronia!
It's come.
Sopronia! Come downstairs.
Want you to sing with me?
Sing, sing. She's sang with him, he said.
How? How can I come downstairs when my door is locked?
It's unlocked. Good luck.
Unlocked? Oh no, how could it?
Oh, it is, it is.
And I never knew it. I never knew it.
Come in, Sopronia.
He unlocked it some time while I was still sitting there.
Oh, why didn't I try a few more times?
Why did I just sit there assuming?
No, no, he'd have gotten me anyway, he'd have known.
But I might have got away.
Now it's too late.
He's going to kill me.
Sopronia!
Yes, Hiram, I'm coming.
Hiram, where are you?
Down here, in the parlor.
That's the harmonium?
Yeah.
Waitin' to sing with you.
All right.
I'll sing. I haven't sung in years,
but I'll try.
I'll sing with you.
I'll stay out here in the hall.
My voice will carry better.
Always did carry better in the hall, didn't it, Sopronia?
Of course, you know both the front and back doors a lot.
Yes, I know, Hiram.
Abide with thee, fast, for they've unbind'd.
Love, darkness, deepens.
Lord, with me abide.
When all are...
There's only one more page.
So, shall I read it to you, nurse?
Yes. Yes, go ahead.
March 22nd. I have been sick, I think, for a very long time.
The pages of my diary are blank,
but I shall take you out again for diary today and start you over again.
I shall never look back at the other pages.
I shall only write on and on about this beautiful place,
so that no one reading this diary will ever know that I did it.
But I did do it, diary.
I was smarter than he.
When I opened that door at the head of the stairs and heard the music,
when I saw the fire-axe still hanging on the wall,
oh, I was so cautious, so terribly cautious.
I tiptoed like a little mouse, even as I sang the hymn into that room where he was playing.
If a reflection of that axe and so much as glimmered across the wood
it even turned, but I was clever, so much cleverer than he.
I kept on singing, and now I'm free, free as a bird.
I'm free, and he shall never catch me now, not this time or ever again, because he's dead.
Isn't he, nurse?
Isn't my dear brother-in-law, Hyland, really dead?
Yes, Mrs. Fronier, he's dead.
And now we'll put the diary away, shall we?
Remember what the doctor said, we mustn't overdo if we're to get well.
Oh, but I don't want to get well, ever.
I like being sick.
I feel so safe.
Suspense, in which Mercedes McCambridge starred in William M. Robeson's production of
The Diary of Sopronia Winters by Lucille Fletcher.
Supporting Mercedes McCambridge in The Diary of Sopronia Winters were Carl Swenson and Ellen Morgan.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with Miss Kathy Lewis starring in The Bridge,
another tale well calculated to keep you in...
...suspense.