I Have Been Looking For You

Episode #2
Aired 1947-06-15
Length: 29:37
Size: 6.78 MB
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SUNDAY, June 15, 1947

3:30 - 4:00 PM EDST

RECORDING: 8:00 PM - 12:00 MIDNIGHT JUNE 10, 1947




CHAPPELL: Quiet, please!


CHAPPELL: Quiet, please!


MAN: I have been looking for you.

Your name? I do not know your name. Perhaps you are Anaitas, or Ligeia, or
Berenice. You are Mary, or Alice, or plain Jane. You are Mercedes, Libushka,

Where are you, love?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I heard your voice when I was a child, when I was new in school, when I was a
tender lad, unknowing: I heard your voice -as I passed a schoolroom door.

GIRL: Seven times seven are forty-nine; eight times seven are fifty-six; nine
times seven are sixt--


MAN: But I pushed the door ajar, and looked, and there was only a schoolroom
full of children, and a teacher at a desk. The cadence of your childish voice
hung in the sunny air in the schoolroom, but I couldn't find you: and
wondering, dreaming, I closed the door....


MAN: and went my way on to the confusion of another school room. But your
voice was with me, and I have not forgotten. Many times I heard your voice,
love, as I grew older. There were other girls in my boyhood; sweet, clean-
limbed girls I remember now through the years.

Helen with the yellow curls; Gladys the tomboy on her bicycle; Paula in the
library; Kate and Dorothy and Janet, and crippled Margaret...and my playmates
taunted me because I had no girl of my own. But I smiled a secret smile as I
turned away and walked homeward along the elm-shadowed, the flower-sweet
streets at night, for always you were somewhere.


MAN: and I knew I should find you one day, somewhere. How many years have
passed us, love? How many summers, how many yesterdays, how many heartbeats?
But I knew that I should find you. I saw you at a distance sometimes: a gay
red bathing suit on a beach; a fluttering tartan scarf on the winter hillsides
against the snow, but when I ran to greet you and call you mine you were gone,
you had vanished. I know the touch of your hand, for I felt it cool on my
forehead that time when I lay fevered and thought of death at seventeen. I
know the sound of your footsteps, love, for I have heard them many times. A
day came when I was a young man and


MAN: went away to make my fortune. My heart ached as the little station grew
smaller in the rapid distance, for I knew I saw you there waving farewell -
was it to me? - and I thought frantically of leaping from the train and
returning to you. But a cloud of dust swirled up behind the train and when it
was gone..you had vanished.

There was another glimpse of you, I thought, as the train roared through
another little town, and a gay crowd on the station platform waved and called.
And I knew then: I knew that wherever I should go you would be, always. And
tears came to my eyes as I thought perhaps I should never see your face, but
always follow you, and never meet.

Yes, I was young for love, but I loved you then as I loved you that first day
in school.

GIRL: Seven times seven


MAN: and as I love you now that I have found you.


WOMAN: I knew you followed me.

I heard your footsteps down the summer-dark streets, with the flickering old
street-lights scattering shadows under the lilac-bushes; and the scent of the
lilacs has brought you back to me so many times, my love. Why have I never
seen your face? Or have I? Tell me.

MAN: I love you.

WOMAN: I have seen your shadow past my window. I have heard the distant echo
of your voice.


WOMAN: and you were always near. My dreams have seen you, but you evade my
seeking eyes. Do you remember a wide white beach on a summer's day?


WOMAN: and the high white clouds, and you were alone and I was alone?

MAN: (SOFTLY) I remember.

WOMAN: I remember. I conjured you up out of the sound of the waves on the
sand, and the rhythm of the surf was the beating of my heart.

MAN: And the sound of the wind in the dunes was your far off laughter that I

WOMAN: And I ran along the beach searching for you, for your presence was
strong in my heart, and I cried out; I was heartsick for you. Then I was
afraid. I swam far out into the remorseless waves, seeking you. I became weary
and hopeless for you, and the waves fought me, and they bore me down. Then I
dreamed there were strong arms about me,


WOMAN: and I opened my eyes to the sun


WOMAN: and breathed again; and the salt on my lips, I thought, was not the
salt of the sea, but the sting of a fading kiss. But you were gone. Then I
knew my life was yours, and I was very happy for a little while ... and very
sad. Where did you go, love?

MAN: I dreamed of you in the sea; I dreamed that you were struggling, and I
dreamed that I swam out to you and took you in my arms and brought you to the
shore, and I kissed you. But there was darkness somewhere: darkness that hid
your face from me. And when I awoke I too felt the salt of your lips on mine.

Was I never to see you? Never to hold you in my arms in life? I sought to
forget you; you must forgive me that. I thought that my mind was sick, that I
dreamed in my waking hours. But which was the dream, and which reality?

And how could I escape the vision of you?

Always I was haunted, tortured by the thought that you were near me ... around
a corner, waiting perhaps with a smile of welcome when I should find you.

Do you remember? You must remember.

WOMAN: (SOFTLY) I remember.

When did you walk down an avenue in the snow? The lights were golden from the
windows that Christmastime, and the bells chimed softly in the twilight, I
remember. The streets were filled with cheerful people, hurrying happily in
the white darkness, and I was lonely. Until you hastened past me, a dim shape
in the swirling snowflakes. And I followed you until you disappeared in the
storm, and the cheerful flat laughter of the people on the street mocked me
again. But this is foolishness, I said. There is no one. I am alone; we shall
never find each other. And when I wept in my sleep that night, it was your
hand that wiped away my tears.

MAN: I dreamed of a woman weeping, and I kissed her eyelids as she slept.

WOMAN: You went away.

MAN: We were new to the war that Christmas season, and even as the reluctant
bells rang in a new year, I went away. I remember the gloomy cold station at
midnight. I remember the unhappy sergeant shepherding two dozen motley
civilians away from the lights of the city to the drafty cars that were to
take us ... somewhere. There were few to see us off that New Year's Eve. A
policeman who watched us silently as we straggled across the platform. And an
old man who offered us his bottle and mumbled of his days at the wars: of
Siboney and San Juan and the girl he left behind him. A group of belated
commuters, turning away from us to study the blackboard with "train arrivals"
chalked on it. And as they closed the doors of the coaches, a fat woman,
pounding on the window, mouthing frantic good-byes to a little man who turned
away from her. And when our train began to move from the station, a glimpse of
a woman standing alone under a dusty electric light on the platform.

Then I knew, as I remembered once before, that I could never wholly go away
from you. That we belonged to each other, though I might never see your face.


MAN: I was close to death many times in the war. At Kasserine Pass, when John
Sutherland and I were alone one night, with Rommel's armour on the other side
of the hill we were to watch. At last we knew they were coming, and one of us
was to stay while the other went back in the darkness with the message.

I was afraid to stay, but I argued with John in the petty pride of my terror,
saying I would stay while he should go back to what might mean safety for a
little while. But he was tired, he said, and I was not, and he would stay. And
so I went, and twenty steps away from him I heard the eighty-eight that
smashed him into nothingness.

WOMAN: I spoke to him and told him he must stay.

MAN: And I was wounded afterward.

That night I lay in the hospital tent, and something happened, and I knew I
should die. I had no voice to call, and in the last blackness before my senses
went a nurse came hurrying to my side. It was you, I thought, but when morning
came I saw the same familiar nurse I had known for days.

WOMAN: She was asleep, and I awakened her.

MAN: Did you watch over me all those years? Was it your voice I sometimes
heard in the still night? Have you loved me so, as I have loved you?

What must we do?


MAN: I have been looking for you for so long.

But such a time went by.

Such a long, weary time since I came home. Where were you, love? There was one
moment. I was standing on the deck when our transport came up the Bay. I was
looking for you. There were hundreds of boats around us: boats with great
painted signs welcoming some of us home.

There was none for me; but I hoped that perhaps among all those who had come
to meet their men in the harbour that there might be ... you.

We were past the Statue of Liberty, nosing over to the North River where we
were to dock, and a ferry boat from Jersey cut across our bows. I merely
glanced at it: and I saw you.

That was a happy homecoming.

But, when I came back to New York, when I took off my uniform and went to work

You were gone.

I searched for you.

I looked for you everywhere.

Where were you?

What had happened?

Two years went by.

WOMAN: I saw _you_, love.

They said in the hospital that I would never get well.

I heard the doctors talking.

And at night, sometimes, I talked to you. But I knew you didn't hear me.

The cord was broken. I couldn't reach you.

I saw you many times. And then --


MAN: I had buried myself in my work, they said.

Whatever the work was, I have forgotten. I have forgotten everything, except
that I love you.

And I tried to forget that, for I was afraid that you were gone from me
forever, and I should never see you, never hear your voice again, never know
your nearness as I had grown to know it.

I tried to lose the thought of you among seven millions of people. Among the
high buildings and in the sounds of the city around me. And I almost
succeeded. But then, I saw you.


MAN: Do you remember where I saw you?

In the very center of the town; surrounded by men and women of a hundred


MAN: In the midst of a babel of sound, in the midst of hysterical, never
ending motion; in colours and darkness and flashing, searing lights! It was a
summer evening. Hot and humid.

VOICE: (SHARP FILTER) United States Weather Bureau forecast for New York City
and vicinity. Seven pm temperature ninety-one; humidity eighty-seven per cent.
This evening scattered thundershowers, becoming general before nine o'clock.
Strong westerly winds.

MAN: And the threat of lightning and sullen thunder in the clouds that towered
over the Jersey highlands.


MAN: The voice of the storm quickened, rumbling over the squalling sound of
the city, and the lightning crackled in the West. I was on my way home after a
sodden day in a tiny office above Times Square...one of the beaten, hungry
millions at the end of a colourless, unhappy day. The subway...crowds...

(MUSIC: ... )


MAN: The guards, pushing the milling crowds into the airless, stuffy
cars...the train starting, far underground, where only blind animals should


MAN: bodies pressed against feverish bodies..tired eyes looking inwardly
toward the comforts of home and cool drinks and blessed rest. Outside the
windows walls too close, sweating and dank with moisture; the sudden flash of
stations as we roar through them...more and more speed...bodies swaying
against bodies...suffocation, and the sudden fear that comes like a clutching
nightmare deep underground.

VOICE 1: We're going too fast.

VOICE 2: Where are we?



MAN: Streams of blue sparks outside the open windows ... the acrid smell of
burning rubber ... swift panic, clutching hands ... futile fists beating
screaming faces ... the scream of tortured brakes ... lights flickering,
dying, and in the last seconds before the crash


(MUSIC: ... )


MAN: You.


MAN: I saw you. I had turned, I remember, to escape a man's fingers clawing at
my eyes. I saw you


MAN: inches away from me, yet a continent away. Blond hair rippling in the
fetid breeze; red lips apart, not in fear but in rapt excitement, almost
smiling. I shouted your name - did I know your name? - and then.... Darkness.


MAN: You knew, didn't you?

You saved my life again.

DOCTOR: You said you turned your head just as the crash came.

MAN: Yes, I turned my head. To look at you.

DOCTOR: The steel rod just grazed your forehead. If you hadn't turned your
head -

MAN: I looked at You.

DOCTOR: It was providential, young man.

MAN: It was You.


WOMAN: I knew you were there. Among all those scores of frightened, screaming
men and women I knew you were there. And I saw you. In the last flickering of
the lights I saw you.

And then you were gone.

Forever, I thought.

I thought you died in the subway wreck.

For long months you were dead to me. My mind refused to think of you. I could
not picture your face again. But now I know I was near you many times. I
entered a restaurant as you left it.

MAN: I left the elevator at the fourteenth floor one day.

WOMAN: I got on at the fifteenth.

MAN: I turned to look in a shop-window as you passed by.

WOMAN: I picked up a book at Bretano's that you had just laid down. And I
knew, I think.

MAN: The 'bus driver gave me change that had come from your purse. And I knew.

WOMAN: You sat behind me at a Brailowsky concert at Carnegie Hall. And I
dreamed that night.

MAN: The telefone-booth at Grand Central. Your perfume still was there.


WOMAN: All those long months. Years.

There were long times when I never saw you; times, I am afraid, when I all but
forgot you.

And then I'd see a picture in a newspaper: a happy group celebrating something
at some night-club - and there were you, there was your face, dim and smudged
with ink, half-turned away from me in the background - and I was off again.
Off to walks in the park, hoping to hear footsteps that had grown familiar
through the long years. Off to a pub-crawl along Third Avenue, drinking at Tim
Costello's and P. J. Clarke's, listening for the cadence of a voice that
might, somehow, be there. Off on the top of a Fifth Avenue 'bus, off on the
Staten Island ferry, or an expedition through the theatre crowds at curtain-

Ah, my love, I have looked for you.

I said I never knew your name.

I'd lay awake nights, those times, and go over all the girls' names I ever
heard of: Alice, Barbara, Claudia, Doris, Elisabeth, Frances ...down through
Wilhelmina and Yvonne and Zoe.

I'd make resolutions to forget you.

I went out with other girls. I tried to put you out of my mind. But I found
myself becoming bored with other girls. I looked for you in them, and I became
short of speech, quarrelsome, and no girl ever went out with me twice.

I kept to myself more and more.

More and more time in Central Park - till the very ice-cream vendors greeted
me as an old acquaintance.

More and more time along Fifth Avenue late at night - up past the Cathedral,
down past the Empire State; hoping, listening, peering anxiously at every
woman I passed.

I went away on long trips by myself to escape the thought of you - and heard
your distant laughter, or thought I saw you framed in the window of a train
that passed mine, going in the other direction.


MAN: I didn't sleep much.

Nights I came home as late as I could, staggering for lack of sleep.

I closed the door


MAN: and shut the city out from me.

I was afraid to sleep.

I was afraid of The Dream.


MAN: The Dream that came so often.


MAN: An empty room.

Dark, high walls.

A little flight of stairs leading to an open door.

Beyond the door a dazzling light.

And silence.


MAN: The light draws me to the flight of steps and the open door.

My voice echoes in the silence of the gloomy room,

(ECHO) Where are you, love? Where are you?

WOMAN: (AFTER A PAUSE) I am here, love. (DISTANT)

MAN: You are there, beyond the door, in the room where the light shines. Your
shadow falls across the flight of steps. You are only twenty paces away. I
move toward the door.

(MUSIC: ... )


MAN: One step; two; three- and a cobweb brushes my eyes.


MAN: Your voice again.

WOMAN: (FARTHER AWAY) Come to me, love.

MAN: Another step, and - is that a hand on my shoulder? I turn to see: the
room is empty.

Another step - I can go no farther. I struggle, but there is something that
holds me back, and a voice that whispers in my ear.

VOICE: (WHISPER) Not yet. Not yet.

MAN: I fight against the force that holds me, but I cannot move. What is
beyond the door where the light is? Do you wait for me? Why cannot I reach
you, love?

WOMAN: (FAR AWAY) Hasten, come to me, love.

MAN: I cannot move. I call to you. (ECHO) Help me! Come to me!

WOMAN: (FAR OFF) Come to me -

MAN: And with the sound of a great gong in my ears


MAN: I awake, trembling, and you are gone. I lie awake until the gray dawn
crawls through the windows.


WOMAN: The Dream came to me last night.

A great bright room; a light that dazzles my eyes, and I cannot move.

A door that leads ...to darkness. And footsteps beyond the door, in the dark.
I am frightened until I hear your voice.

MAN: (ECHO) Where are you, love?

WOMAN: And I answer, and then I know your footsteps, coming to me from the
darkness into the light that dazzles me.


WOMAN: But the footsteps end; and the light burns my eyelids, and the great
gong sounds


MAN: My hand was on the very lintel of the door, and the radiance of the light
within struck my eyes and blinded me, and again I awoke, trembling...

Did this mean that I was soon to find you?

Am I to see you, to hold you in my arms?

What will I dream tonight?


MAN: I slept a little, and The Dream did not return.

It was raining when I awoke; a quiet summer's rain, and the light in the
streets was the colour of the light in the room beyond the door.

Is that a sign?

Is this the day?


WOMAN: It is raining.

I dreamed of a voice that I know.

I asked him to come to me.

Is this the day?

Is the dream a message from somewhere to tell me that this is the day?

I dress hastily when I see that it is already eight o'clock. Perhaps I shall
meet him today: I shall wear my new scarlet raincoat.

I will know him when I see him; will he know me?

Downstairs; outdoors; rain.

Good luck - a taxicab.


WOMAN: Shall I meet him today?

(MUSIC: ... BG)

MAN: Who says the rain is dismal?

This is the day.

I know this is the day.

I shall walk to the office: who knows, I may meet her on the way?

I smile at strangers as I stroll through the pelting rain down Madison Avenue.
Here is a young couple: lovers. I, too, am a lover - and today I shall meet my
beloved. And then - the fulfillment of all my dreams from the time of my
childhood, so very long ago.

I step down from the curb. Sixty-eighth Street. Traffic has stopped before the
upraised hand of the policeman in the middle of the street. I smile at him,
and I do not see the taxicab


MAN: careening around the corner against the lights, the driver frantically
tugging at his wheel - very slowly, it seemed to me - and the cab coming
straight at me. And as I looked up, the cruel wheels half a foot from me --


MAN: And then, the Room.


MAN: The dark room; with the little stairs, and the door, and the [dazzling
light beyond. Nothing holds me back now. I go forward to the door and the]
light welcomes me.

I know you are there, love.

In a moment we shall meet.

We shall kiss.

We shall begin our life together, shall we not? (PAUSE)

Shall we not?


MAN: Love, where are you?

WOMAN: Love, I am here, with you forever.


MAN 2: Yes, indeed. Right through here


MAN 2: mind the little stairs, and through the door. Yes, it is bright in
here. But we have to be able to see very well in here.


MAN 2: This is the one: the man that was killed by the taxicab. No, there was
no identification at all. This one? This was the woman, the passenger in the
cab. She died of a heart attack at the very instant. No, no identification for
her, either.

Yes, it is strange. Both of them smiling as if they were the happiest people
in the world.


MAN: Together, love...

WOMAN: Together, forever.


ANNCR: You have listened to "I've Been Looking For You", the second in the
series "Quiet, Please" which is written and directed by Wyllis Cooper.

Ernest Chappell was the man who talked to you.

CHAPPELL: And [our guest] Claudia Morgan was the woman. [Thank you, Claudia,
for being with us.]

Others in the cast were Peggy Stanley, J Swayne Gordon, and [Martin Wolfson.]

The music was composed and played by Gene Perazzo. And now for a word about
next week's "Quiet Please" story, here is our writer-producer, Wyllis Cooper.

COOPER: For next week I have written you a fantastic story which I hope may
give you to think, as well as entertain you. Its title is "We Were Here

CHAPPELL: So, until next week at this time - quietly yours, Ernest Chappell.


ANNCR: This program came from New York. (PAUSE)

Stay tuned now for a fascinating story of strange events and their commonsense
explanation on the House of Mystery which follows in just a moment. This is
the Mutual Broadcasting System.