Ladies They Talk About (Warner Bros.) (1933)

INCREASE COVERAGE BY RADIO \ RADIO DRAMATIZATION GOOD EXPLOITATION BET; TWO 10 MINUTE FEATURES FOR LOCAL STATIONS The average local broadcasting station is anxious to build up as great a local following as possible, as the value of their time for commercial programs is thereby determined. Ever on the lookout for novelties and broadcast features that can be successfully employed as sustaining units during unsold periods, the following cooperative plan presents a most acceptable proposition to station program directors. By all means try to set the time so as not to conflict with your own business. Exhibitors should contact their local radio stations and offer the following two five-minute radio features. One is a dramatization from the picture. The other is a brief talk about the life of Stan wyck. These can be used as one feature or split into two programs. The continuity as given here is self-explanatory and its own value as a novel program unit of genuine radio fan interest will be realized at once by a live wire broadcast studio. In some situations where a popular amateur dramatic society is available, this organization can readily be induced to put on the radio playlet in return for the favorable publicity involved. In other situations the radio station’s staff members can be used. Of course, if you are already taking time on the air to advertise your shows, these two programs should prove excellent advertising material. 2 . About.” No. 1 RADIO DRAMATIZATION Station Routine Announcement — followed by ANNOUNCER: For the next 10 minutes we shall present you with a brief dramatization of scenes from the sensational Warner Bros. motion picture “Ladies They Talk About” which will open at the Theatre, (the town) on ................. next. Barbara Stanwyck, recently chosen as ‘‘ First Lady of the Movies’? by the Chicago Tribune’s movie fan poll for the most popular screen actress—stars in “Ladies They Talk About” as Nan Taylor. Mr. (name of theatre manager or his representative) will now give you a short summary of the events leading up to the scene in the office of the District Attorney in “Ladies They Talk Mr. (manager): NARRATOR: Thank you (name of announcer). In order that we may proceed with the actual scene in which Nan Taylor meets David Slade, the young reformer who is to play th a Hie nat tu har ndAle_Motortad . ST mi-tragic, and finally triumphant ‘x. _—T shall briefly describe what precedes it. While engineering a bank hold-up, Nan is caught by the police, although her male accomplices escapes. In the District Attorney’s office, where she is taken for questioning, she meets Slade, whom she has known in childhood. He is attracted to her, and because she knows he has influence with the Prosecutor, she plays up to him. er ee Nan, called into the presence of the two men, appears, -flashily dressed, and saunters in casually smoking a cigarette. She is heard speaking to the District Attorney: NAN: Shall I sit down—or do they confess easier standing up? D. A.: Miss Taylor, this is David Slade, our perennial and persistent reformer. He’s a bit of a nuisance in this town. But he’s a regular chap, at that. He wants to have a little chat with you. ~ DAVID: Don’t I know you from somewhere—don’t you know me?.. Up in Benita, wasn’t it? NAN: I must have a swell pan... everybody is remembering me _ these days. DAVID: I’m sure you’re the girl. But your name wasn’t Taylor then... NAN: It isn’t now... Um Mrs. Andrews ... you needn’t laugh, lawyer man. DAVID: It was Ellis, wasn’t it— Nan Ellis? ... Of course, I remember you distinetly now. — Your father was deacon in the church up there. NAN: And you— you were little Davie Slade—and your father was the town drunkard . . Well, brother Slade, things change, don’t they. Here I am, the deacon’s daughter—and in the bastille, and you, the bad boy of Benita, and the son of our most popular drunk, a reformer, a psalmshouter ! DAVID: Yes, that’s right—except that I’m no hymn-chanter, Nan, just a right guy, trying to persuade others to go right. But what on earth happened to you? I felt terrible when I heard a few years ago you’d been sent to a reform school. You were such a sweet little kid. NAN: Yeah? Well, too much deaconing took all that sweetness out of me. DAVID: It often does. I try to tell parents to understand their boys and girls; to be pals with them—not disciplinarians. But how in the world did you get in this jam? NAN: Ask the big boy there. D. A.: So you’ve got a reform school jolt in your pedigree, eh? Well, didn’t they teach you your lesson up there? NAN: They did—but it didn’t take. But they did teach me that life isn’t a bowl of cherries, no matter how many songs they sing about it. DAVID: I—I’m not very happy, Nan—seeing you here like this. NAN: I’m not exactly crazy about it myself—but they’ve got to pin it on somebody, and I haven’t many friends. : DAVID: I’ll take care of that, if yowre actually innocent. NAN: Of course I am. Look into my eyes. Do they look guilty? Do they? I’ve been straight ever since I got out of reform school—trying to live right . . . Won’t you believe me -. » David? DAVID: I’d like to... if only. old times. . NAN? Thev’vegot mv numbe and they ve hounded me ever sin They won’t let me go straight. That’s why I wore the platinum wig, and | t changed my name so they wouldn’t RUnOWoMe oe ON. ls DAVID: Dont. =.-cry. —.. Nak NAN: Why can’t somebody give me an even break for once? I can’t go straight if they don’t give me a chance. DAVID: I do believe in you Nan —and I’m going to do my best to see that you get it... NARRATOR: Just as Slade is about to secure Nan’s freedom— temporarily touched by his kindness, she confesses her guilt to him. Slade feels it is his duty to report her guilt to the District Attorney, and she is sent to prison. She refuses to see him when he visits her in the penitentiary. Nan becomes implicated in the escape of two men, former pals, making a tracing of the key to the women’s gate and plans of the grounds. She professes repentence, sends for the trusting Slade, and when she is in his arms, slips the incriminating letter into his pocket. He hesitatingly mails the message. The thug in the meantime to whom it is directed has been arrested and when the letter is returned to the penitentiary by the post office, the plot is discovered. Her pals, trying to eseape, are trapped in a tunnel under the jail and shot. Nan’s sentence is lengthened. When she is again free, she hastens to the auditorium where Slade is holding revival services. Up the ‘‘sawdust trail,’’ between the singing throngs, past the kneeling converts, Nan hurries to Slade’s study. He stares in amazement—then— DAVID: Nan! NAN: David! I’ve come! DAVID: Nan! You’ve no idea what this means to me! Why, I’m—I’m speechless . NAN: An you’ve no idea how I’ve looked forward to this meeting, David. It’s been mighty difficult to see things from your standpoint, but... I think ... at last... I understand. DAVID: You mean—that you’ve come over to my side! NAN: I mean just that. I’ve been wrong—lI’ve been wrong all my life— and I came here tonight ... my first night out of prison ... to tell you that you’ve taught me that your side is the right side... DAVID: Then we can start all over again where we left off—Nan... I don’t have to tell you that you for | wy have always meant more to me than... well . . . IT knew that eventually we would find happiness together... NAN: Oh, by the way... here’s a little snapshot I want you to see.. DAVID: A snapshot... NAN: Recognize them? DAVID: I—TI recognize you. But I don’t know these men... NAN: No. I guess you don’t. You never saw Mike and Dutch. They’re dead now — dead — under the sod—a little stone slab with their names on it and that’s all. You put them there! You! David Slade, the honest, upright crusader, the saver of souls, the little tin god! DAVID: I don’t understand— NAN: Youw’ll understand before I finish. You’re going to hear what I’ve got to say, and like it. Do you realize what you did to me? You came to the county jail saying you wanted to help me. You told me up in the District Attorney’s office that with your help I could erase my past—that I could start all over again—with you. And when you gained my confidence NAN: —And after sending me to prison, you couldn’t even do one favor for me—you couldn’t even mail my letter. Always a stoolpigeon—always the great citizen—I suppose it made you happy when I got another year tucked on my sentence! DAVID: Nan, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. NAN: Go ahead—start You’re just the type! DAVID: But I’m not lying! I did mail your letter! NAN: You would—you— DAVID: What hurts me more than anything else is that you’ve come here tonight in this frame of mind—that you’re still unrepentant— NAN: Unrepentant! What have you done to help me repent! You’ve made me want to be a thousand times worse than I’ve ever been. And I’m going to be from this very night on. And I hope you spend the rest of that future you’ve been telling me about, realizing what you’ve done! You won’t forget me! You’ll hear plenty about me. And I won’t forget you— T’ll be thinking about you every day T live—hating you for the lying hypoerite you are! DAVID: Nan, this is terrible! NAN: Aw— DAVID: You must listen to me. You ean’t do that. NAN: I can’t, eh? Just watch me! T’ll send you the press clippings— you’ll get them from every city in the world—and for every crime in the world— DAVID: No, Nan—you can’t—you can’t do it—because I love you—and because you love me— NAN: Don’t put your hands on me! Don’t, I tell you! If you do I’ll —I°ll kill you— DAVID: Please, Nan— NAN: If you come one more step toward me—lI’ll—I’ll shoot! DAVID: Nan—Nan—I— (Sound of shots) NARRATOR: But even now David Slade does not know the real Nan— nor does she know herself—nor do you know her. You will, when you see ‘¢Tadies They Talk About?’?’................ next, at the Theatre. Till then—ladies good night. lying! and gentlemen, — THE END — ~— ugh to believe | | ‘Silver Dollar.’’ No. 2 BARBARA STANWYCK RADIO TALK Station Routine Announcement — followed by ANNOUNCER: Here is big news for every film fan—which means practically everybody. The ‘‘ First Lady of the Movies’’ is coming to town. Who is she? Well, she was given this title recently, by the movie fan contest conducted by the Chicago Tribune. The ‘‘ First Lady of the Movies’’ is Barbara Stanwyck—beautiful, haunting, lovable Barbara. She will be seen in a part which is as far from her real self, as a part could well be, and yet her role of Nan Taylor in sensational ‘‘Ladies They Talk About’? is said to be her most vital characterization. Nan Taylor is the fiery, incorrigible, devil-ridden heroine—if such she can be called—of ‘‘Ladies They Talk About,’’ another Warner Bros. hit— made by the producers of ‘‘I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang,’’ ‘20,000 Years in Sing Sing’’ and — PS Ro febtto fin LoS foots ahant tha irst Lady of the Screen—gleaned ‘}at random from things that have been ‘said and written about her. Barbara Stanwyck’s real name—in case you don’t know—is Ruby Stevens. She was born in that borough of the Greater City which is familiarly known as New York’s bedroom— namely, Brooklyn. She attended publie schools there, and became captain of a basket ball team. School plays interested her, too .. . though her greatest ambition was to be a dancer . after the manner of Isadora Dunean, whom she had seen and could not forget. Father and mother objected to the ‘‘light fantastic’? and Barbara’s next phase was an intense preoccupation with religion and the determination to go to China as a missionary . . and to live in the home of Pearl Buck ... a friend of the family. She taught a Sunday School elass in this period ... but the stage kept coming back into her consciousness . And one fine day she found herself in the front row of the chorus of a revue on the Strand Roof. Later she heard cabaret girls were needed for the stage play, ‘‘The Noose.’’? She got that job, too. She became one of the stage ladies most talked about in New York that season... and she was soon given a real part, with real words to say, and real steps to do in a real Broadway hit, ‘‘Burlesque:’’ Her character name in ‘‘Burlesque’’ was Bonnie—and little as the part was, comparatively speaking, Barbara says she loves it better than any of the famous starring roles she has since portrayed on stage or screen... Along came the talkie people then . with suggestions for tests ... and offers of parts ... and before she knew it she was flying to Hollywood, with her amusing hubbie, Frank Fay ... and in Hollywood the two of them have remained. Barbara’s star has been in the ascendent ever since that auspicious westward flight . .. . Warner Bros. have presented her to the world in_ such successes as ‘‘Illicit;’’ ‘* Night Nurse,’’ ‘¢So Big,’’ ‘‘The Purchase Proce,’’ and now ‘‘ Ladies They Talk About.’’ Barbara Stanwyck’s beauty is Nature’s gift and her ‘‘beauty seerets’’ are scarcely worth mentioning. She uses no special line of cosmetics and advises simple soap and water. She does recommend what she calls her ‘‘natural diet,’?’ which con | sists of exercise and lots of sunshine. To keep fit she plays tennis and does plenty of dancing ... her early love ; . when studio schedules permit. She buys her dresses in New York because she believes American women to be the best-dressed in the world. It is a notion of hers -that foreign styles, so-called, are designed more cleverly here at home than abroad. New York is her favorite city, though she confesses she’d love to live a season or so in Southern France... Barbara doesn’t believe in fancy eating formulas, either ... and her favorite dish is very rare roast beef with baked potatoes ... or spare ribs and sauer kraut. She doesn’t care for sweets ,and spurns figs, dates, prunes, and their ilk, principally because they are always touted by the dieticians as ‘‘ good-for-you.’’ Cooking is one of the household arts in which she is unable to stir up an interest ... The art she does wish to excel in, next to acting, is writing, and she is said to be doing a play for the sereen. in which she is to star... wit TN aiadan “Derg , taawend.+ posite of course. shou. 1e says that shou she by any chance decide to leave the screen she would be perfectly happy in the new home in Malibou Beach... Barbara and Frank are ambitious to raise a family ... and have named their two children in advance . Michael and Kathleen. In the meantime they have adopted a baby son... Dion. Mrs. Fay’s dislike for garishness in any form is reflected in the quietness of the furnishings of the Malibou house. She is forever changing the arrangements of the furniture—making alterations and adding artistic touches here and there... Indoors, Miss Stanwyck plays bridge and backgammon. Jigsaw puzzles keep the Fays up to all hours... which is of no consequence as the First Lady believes in late rising in the morning . .. when shooting is not on, at the Warner-First National studios-..% : Her pets—next to baby Dion—are a terrier named ‘‘Shanty Irish’’ and ‘‘Punky,’’ a Boston Bull. She likes horses. The family cars include two Fords, one open and one closed; a Lincoln Phaeton and a Cadillac limousine. The Fays are seen at all important football games and boxing matches. Barbara’s favorite fighter is Jimmy McLaren. Barbara, most delightful of moderns, is but mildly interested in polities. She votes, but says she follows hubby’s decisions at the polls. She’s a scant five feet five tall. Her weight is—you guessed it—one hundred and twenty pounds ... and she has auburn hair and the darkest of dark blue eyes ... Here then is a secant word-picture of the glorious, vibrant actress whose name is Nan, in ‘‘Ladies They Talk About.’’ In the sensational role she is supported by a distinguished cast including Preston S. Foster, as the young fighting reformer, who loves the fickle Nan and is her dupe until the last terrific moment of the story —Lillian Roth, Lyle Talbot, Dorothy Burgess, Ruth Donnelly, Robert McQuade, Maude Eburne, Cecil Cun‘ningham, Grace Cunard and Helen Mann. It was directed by Howard Bretherton and William Keihley. Barbara Stanwyck, First Lady of the Screen. Watch for her picture ‘‘Tadies They Talk About’’ when it comes to the Strand next Friday. i — THE END — Page Nineteen