Fashions of 1934 (Warner Bros.) (1934)

Special Radio Sketch These broadcasts are okayed and used by the Columbia and the National Broadcasting Companies. Exhibitors everywhere have found the value of these sketches. Use local amateurs for the parts and you'll get added interest. If actors in sketch do not sing, others can be substituted for the song. Be sure to get newspaper stories on the dramatic or radio pages announcing the broadcast. For your convenience, this sketch is divided into sections to run for 10, 20 or 30 minutes, as desired. Note that all scenes are marked with running time, to facilitate programming. SIX CHARACTERS SHERWOOD NASH: (William Powell) King of Four flushing Fashion Putter-Overers. LYNN: (Bette Davis) Pretty Commercial Artist who cleverly manipulates affairs. GLENDA: (Glenda Farrell) A hard-boiled blonde secretary. SNAP: (Frank McHugh) Nash’s faithful and funny side kick. DURYEA: (Henry O’Neill) Nash’s foe in fashion world of New York. FELDMAN: (William Burress) Another opponent of Nash. (Other ‘voices’ of cops—and men aboard ship may be doubled) ——————————————————————————————————————— Regular Station Announcement —followed by— — FIEST PART — (About 3 minutes) ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to offer for your entertainment flashes of the rousing action, dialogue and melody of “Fashions of 1934,” the First National laugh extravaganza starring William Powell and coming to the ............ Thoatte=.:setacc hee next. Mr. Powell is supported by a big cast headed by Bette Davis, Frank McHugh, Verree Teasdale, Reginald Owen, Hobart Cavanaugh, Henry O’Neill, Phillip Reed and Hugh Herbert. Hundreds of Hollywood beauties appear in the dance ensembles which were created by Busby Berkeley, who did them for “42nd Street,” “Gold Diggers” and “Footlight Parade.” Mr. (name of narrator) will briefly outline the story. NARRATOR: We see the swanky outer room of the skyscrapersuite of offices of the Golden Harvest Investment Corporation a shady organization which is about to breathe its last. Glenda, the hard-boiled blonde secretary, is smoking while idly filing her scarlet fingernails—when a brash cocky little man blows in— BNAP: (high-pitched briskness) Hi, Glenda, old girl! GLENDA: Hello, Snap. SNAP: (kidding formality) Is Mr. Sherwood Nash in? GLENDA: Yeah, sure. ALL in! SNAP: Watta you mean, all in? Not that guy! Sherwood Nash may be DOWN—but,—as we say in the Army—not OUT! GLENDA: No? Listen, wise guy, we’re all gonna be OUT— — Page Thirty-six The telephones are on the way NOW! BNAP: Yeah, I met the lad wid ’em when I breezed in. I thought he was mebby only taking ’em for a walk! NASH: (calling, off) Hey, Snap! BNAP: Yeah, boss! Comin’ right up! baby! GLENDA: Don’t baby ME! Ya little goof! NASH: (off) WELL? BNAP: Okay, boss! NASH: (clear-cut speed) Well, what’s the good news? SNAP: Boy, oh boy, boss, gimme time to rest my bones—I been scoutin’ all over this man’s town from the Bronx to the Battery— from— NASH: So what? SNAP: That’s what I say, boss, beggin’ your pardon! (to Glenda) So long NASH: Couldn’t you raise any money ? SNAP: (dismally) Not a dime, brother. NASH: Something tells me that the Golden Harvest Investment Company is— GLENDA: (off, humming the Funeral March) Rum-tum-ti-tum —rum-tum-ti-tum—rum-tum-ti— NASH: (calling with mock anger) Hey, cut that out, out there! GLENDA: (off) Okay, Master Mind! (coming into scene) Well, where do we go from here? NASH: Don’t rush me now, Glenda—lI’ll think of SOMETHING! GLENDA: Oh, yeah? I wouldn’t like to hold my breath till you do! SNAP: Well, he always HAS! ' G@LENDA: HAS, yeah! Well, ta-ta-, boys! (off) We girlies gotta eat! SNAP: (calling) Say, what’s your hurry? GLENDA: (off) ’'m not much fun at a funeral—so long! (Door bangs) SNAP: (ironically) Lovely girl, eh, boss? Sticks to ya when you’re in the money—and walks out on ya when you're flat. NASH: She’ll be back, don’t worry. SNAP: Sure she will, but— NASH: Don’t talk so much— I’m THINKING— SNAP: Yep—we gotta find another racket— NASH: Got a cigarette? SNAP: Sure. Say, boss — Couldn’t we promote a Marathon dance—maybe? NASH: Come again? SNAP: (brightly) A Marathon dance—and listen, how about running mail order dancing lessons? —Huh?—Bad, huh? Well! No harm done! At least I— NASH: (suddenly) Will you do me a favor, Snap? SNAP: (warmly) Anything, boss. NASH: Then go away and let me think, TPll FIND SOME THING! SNAP: (encouragingly) ATTA BOY! (Off) See you later! (Door slams). (Musio if desired) —SECOND PART — (About 4 minutes) NARRATOR: Mr. Sherwood Nash most certainly does find Something! He reads that exclusive designers of fashion are banding together to fight style pirates who are reproducing their best models at ridiculously low prices. Nash himself has become the king of the style pirates! He has bribed a truckdriver to bring the new gowns to him for copying—before they are taken to the importers. He has set up better and bigger offices and employed a pretty young commercial artist, named Lynn, to make the drawings. Glenda is back again on the job, of course, hating Lynn. Snap, too is very much on the job. Nash’s affairs are ripe for another cleanup when the big importers discover his game and decide to put a stop to it. They have taken the matter up with the District Attorney. The bribed truckdriver has just delivered another lot of model gowns from Paris. The alluring young artist, Lynn —is unpacking them and handing them over to the disgruntled Glenda. Models are trying them on, and Snap is ready to take camera-shots of them. The girls are in eestasies about the gowns. NASH: Well, that’s the lot! Beauties, eh wot, Lynn? Masterpieces! LYNN: (sweet come-across voice) They surely are, Mr. Nash! I’d love to try this one on, myself— NASH: Why don’t you— GLENDA: Sure, baby doll— try it on—bet you'll look like Astor’s pet horse—in it—but go ahead. NASH: Hurry up, Snap, and get ’em packed again. The driver’s waiting! SNAP: Okay, boss! LYNN: Help me, somebody—I can’t get it over my— NASH: What could be sweeter— . LYNN: Oh, Mr. Nash—I didn’t expect. you to help me. NASH: Why not?—Well, Lynn, how d’you like your new job? LYNN: I love it! NASH: Like mass production, eh? LYNN: (with soft-voiced enthusiasm) With your brains— and my talent— GLENDA: Your genius, you mean, don’t you dearie? LYNN: We might be doing better than copying—! NASH: Good idea! Maybe we will!—(ealling) All right girlies —school’s over for the day! You ean go! (ad lib falsetto chorus of ‘All right’ ‘Good night, Mr. Nash.’) SNAP: (off) I’m on me way, boss! ’Night Glenda — ’Night Miss Lynn— NASH: Step on it, then. SNAP: Okay, Colonel! (Door bangs) NASH: As you were saying, Lynn—we could do original designs—between us. You and I? Why, girl we’d be simply COLOSSAL! GLENDA: (interrupting gruffly) Am I going to see you tonight? NASH: (vaguely) know—maybe?— GLENDA: That means ‘no,’ I suppose? NASH: (blandly) Your guess is as good as mine! (phone rings i --con’t sharply) GLENDA: Yeah? WHAT? Yow’re kiddin’! — No! — They what? Gee!—Yeah, sure I’ll tell him! ‘Bye!’ (bangs receiver on the hook) NASH: What’s up? GLENDA: Plenty! The driver just phoned! Duryea and the rest are onto your racket. They’ve canned him! They’ve put the District Attorney wise — and — the COPS are on their way here NOW! LYNN: Oh, heavens — what shall we do? GLENDA: Trust the Master Mind, little one! LYNN: I’m scared stiff! GLENDA: You'll limber up, alright! (to Nash) Well, Get-RichQuick—as I may have said before—‘Where do we go from here?’ NASH: (more blandly than ever) Don’t rush me—give me time—to THINK! GLENDA: (off) Well, believe me—I’m not going to be here when the cops come— LYNN: (indignantly) Glenda! Wait a minute! Don’t— NASH: She’s right, Lynn. For the time being, the motto of this outfit had better be—AMSCRAY! GLENDA: (off) You said a mouthful—so long! (door bangs after her) LYNN: Well, Isn’t that nice? NASH: Aren’t you going to follow suit? LYNN: (incredulously) — And let you face the music all alone? Don’t be silly! We’re in this together, aren’t we? NASH: You know, I like you. LYNN: Save the pretty speeches for later. What do we do now? NASH: (pensively) Well, it was a nice little racket while it lasted—Come on—we’ll— LYNN: You're surely not running away, are you? NASH: (laughing) No, my child! I’m going to beat ’em to the punch, that’s all! Watch me! (Sudden fierce knocking at door) WARNER SKETCHES ARE ON THE AIR LYNN: (whispering) It’s the— it’s the COPS! NASH: (low tone) Come on, we'll beat it! 1ST COP: (off, knocking) Open up, willyez! (pause—knocking) NASH: (to Lynn, low) Quick! Out this way! sy LYNN: (whispering) But you said you’d—(knocking again). NASH: ‘Face the music!’— sure! So I will—but now we gotta beat it! = = LYNN: (whimpering) Oh, I am so scared!: 18ST COP: We know yer in there all right! Open the door! (rattling it). NASH: now, kid— 1ST COP: (off) For the last time!—(pause) Here we come! (sound of lock giving and door bursting open) Well, I’ll be— What do ye think of that, Pat? —Are they in THERE? 2ND: (from inner office) They ARE not! IST COP: Come then Pat! We'll head ’em off! Take the back way, me man—and I[’ll— (door jerked shut). (Music if desired) (whispering) Quick — THIRD PART — (About 5 minutes) NARRATOR: The undaunted Sherwood Nash leaves Lynn at her apartment—and taxis wildly to the office where Duryea, Caponelli, Glass and Feldman—style designers, are in conference. They are quick to admit Nash when the clerk explains that the gentleman represents the truckdriver Duryea has just fired. Nash is all smiles as he faces the fuming executives: NASH: (pleasantly) Good afternoon, gentlemen—You, sir, I presume, are Mr. Duryea! DURYEA: I understand you represent the driver we had occasion to— NASH: (interrupting amiably) If you don’t mind—Mr. Duryea—these other gentlemen— I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of— DURYEA: (mumbling the introduction) Mr. Caponelli—Mr. Glass—Mr. Feldman—(grunts of recognition heard). NASH: DURYEA: (clearing his throat) Now— NASH: (suave) If you don’t mind gentlemen, I’ll appropriate this chair—Thank you. DURYEA: (clearing his throat more ominously) You are the attorney for Mr. Brent, my driver? NASH: (ingratiatingly) No— —not exactly— DURYEA: Well, then — what are you? : NASH: (as though imparting exciting news) My name is SHERWOOD NASH. DURYEA: (bluntly) Brent was fired for selling us out—for taking a bribe. What is your connection with him? NASH: (charmingly) I—oh, Y’m the—man who—bribed him! AD LIB: (voices of the three) You cheap crook—Of all the crust — Thief — Robber — Lowdown—Black Hand! (etc., ete.) NASH: (calmly) Let’s not call each other names, gentlemen. We are all more or less in the same position. YOUR models aren’t original! DURYEA: Not original! (murmurs of others). Charmed—