The Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman.
Good evening, this is Ronald Coleman, inviting you to join us again on the campus of Ivy College.
And now, the Halls of Ivy.
Welcome again to Ivy, Ivy College, that is, in the town of Ivy, USA.
The president of which, Dr. William Todd Hunter Hall, is engaged in one of America's favorite indoor sports.
Oh, not table tennis, not bridge, not charades, not putting golf balls into a paper cup.
This pastime requires more accuracy, more muscle, and more finesse than any of those.
It's called, Rearranging the Living Room Furniture, and as his wife, Victoria, so well says,
But after all, dear, we can't just leave things the way they are forever and ever.
You know what Voltaire said, changez tout, or vos amours, change everything except your loves.
Thank you for excluding me from your alterations.
Oh, you're my one permanent possession, darling, collector's item.
I hope so. But, frankly, I was well satisfied with this living room the way it was.
To quote another French authority, Alphonse Carr, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
The more it changes, the more it is the same thing.
Darling, you really have a lovely Parisian accent, it's gorgeous.
Naturally. I spent three whole days in Paris learning how to say, Où est la express company américain?
Now, where did you say you wanted this armchair?
In the corner there, just to the right of the bay window, see?
Oh, but that's where we had it, darling, ten minutes ago, and you didn't like it.
Yeah, but that was before we put the piano over here.
Oh, oh, yes, yes, well, how silly of me.
But tell me one thing, before I suffer complete muscular collapse.
Yes, dear.
Do you think by any chance that this final rearrangement will be final?
Yes, darling, definitely.
Would you care to make an informal agreement to that effect? In writing?
Well, how long?
Oh, say, ninety days? Non-renewable?
Ninety days? Well, good heavens, in ten days you'll want to change things.
You'll say, I don't like this big chair here because there's no light to read by.
And you'll be perfectly right. And I'll cheerfully admit it, and we'll move everything back.
But there's a man for you always wanting to be reasonable.
Well, it's an arguable point, but I'm too weak for rebuttal.
All right, here we go.
A little bit more to the left, dear. More, yet, more.
That's it. Oh, that's perfect.
I'm glad that's done. Are we through now?
Yes, darling. All through.
Good.
Except for rehanging the pictures.
Couldn't we settle for something simpler?
Such as scraping off the wallpaper with an old razor blade and painting a mural?
This won't take but a minute, Toddy.
Now, we'll leave the Toulouse-Lautrec where it is, and put the Gauguin over the fireplace.
You know, there's one nice thing about having good reproductions instead of originals.
Yes, we don't have to keep lending them to museums.
What I meant was that nobody can come in, look at our pictures, and say,
Oh, oh, it's a fake. How much do you get stuck for it?
Now, if we had mural paintings in here instead of...
Oh, good heavens.
What's the matter?
Vicki, I just had a moment of almost divine revelation.
What?
Even the early Etruscans of mysterious origin knew the secret.
The Egyptians, the Babylonians, the Mayans, and the Aztecs, they all knew it.
And I, in my stupidity, never realized it until now.
All the shame of it.
William, what on earth are you talking about?
The origin of mural painting. The why of it.
Why did those ancients start painting on stone walls instead of boards and canvases?
Well, why did they?
Well, simply so some woman couldn't come along two weeks later and say,
I don't like it yet.
Yes, and it also accounts for all those dead civilizations.
It does?
Yes. The people got so sick of seeing the same paintings in the same place year after year,
they burned the cities, covered them with 90 feet of dirt, and ran away.
Yes, it's possible, I suppose.
Though it would seem to be carrying artistic criticism to a rather frantic extreme.
Now, where do we put the go-gown?
Leave it where it is.
We'll hang the matches over the mantelpiece and put this one over the sofa.
What is that?
It's a painting I found up in the attic. Don't you remember it?
No, and please don't accuse me of having bought it.
Darling, you painted it.
Well, I don't know.
This is an early William T. Hall, you see, down the corner there, is he?
William T. Hall, 1934, see?
Yes, I do remember it now.
I submitted that to the Chicago Art Institute once for an exhibit.
They sent it back with a very interesting appraisal.
What did they say?
Well, I don't recall the exact wordage, but the sense of the comment was,
hanging is too good for it.
You really like it?
But, Charlie, I liked it even before I knew you did it.
It was dusty, but I washed it gently with soap and water,
and I think it's really stimulating.
Has it got a title?
Oh, no, no, it's an abstract. It doesn't mean anything.
Well, if it doesn't mean anything, why did you paint it?
Oh, possibly for the sheer pleasure of expressing myself in form and color.
The same reason that a pianist practices runs and chords.
However, piano exercises don't make concerts.
This painting of mine now, you can't.
It doesn't make a...
It's not...
You know, it is interesting, isn't it?
Well, I said so at the beginning.
Now, where shall we hang it?
In the garage, along with my old license plates.
But for the moment, let's hide it.
I have an appointment with Alfred Churmendy.
Who is he?
He's a young gentleman who is quite pertinent to this discussion, oddly enough.
A very talented art student who, as president of the art society,
has dictated what type of painting shall be entered in the annual exhibit.
Well, there can't be much wrong with that. You said he was talented.
Yes, in an abstract sort of way.
As a matter of fact, in a totally abstract sort of way.
He doesn't like anything else and isn't allowing any other type of painting in the art show.
Abstracts are his first and only love.
Then he must have had a very strange first love life.
Or else his craft is ebbing.
Vicki, I'm a Freud. You have gone too far.
You're too young.
Oh, no, no, you win. You win.
But, I mean, why is this abstracted young man coming here?
Well, as a traditional formality, the president of the art society
will drop by to ask the president of Ivy to be one of the judges.
And what will you say?
I only know what I would like to say, if dignity and courtesy permitted.
I sometimes wonder, in view of Mr. Chirmendy's presumption,
if now and then a painting doesn't get a shellacking which is more deserved by the artist.
Good evening, Mrs. Hall.
Oh, good evening, Mr. Chirmendy. Dr. Hall is expecting you.
Thank you.
Ah, good evening, Alfred.
Good evening, Dr. Hall.
And how is the exhibit coming along?
Almost ready to go. We have an excellent collection of paintings.
You'll have a hard time picking the best ones, Dr. Hall.
And, incidentally, according to the tradition, I have the honor of inviting you to be a judge.
Well, thank you very much, but I'm afraid I must decline.
You decline? But why, Dr. Hall?
Alfred, I am an exponent of healthy nonconformity,
but you are insisting on your own brand of conformity in this show.
You have screened the exhibitors through the thumbhole of your own palette.
Well, I've limited all paintings to abstracts because I believe they'll contribute the most towards the advancement of art.
It is your narrow limitation to which I object.
But apart from that, would you throw Cézanne and Renoir into oblivion and Rembrandt into the ash heap?
Do you also mean to dispense with early Picasso?
Of course not. Picasso is a total conceptualist in simultaneity, just as I am.
Oh, I say, are you really?
Well, I've seen some of your work, Alfred. You have a genuine talent.
But I cannot see anything of real life or emotion in it, and you seem to demand that I do.
Well, the world has seen enough of real life. What has it led to? Confusion.
We propose to point the way out of that confusion.
With a paintbrush, that's quite an assignment.
Well, we propose to create a new reality.
Well, I kind of like the one we've got. It may not be a palace, but it's home.
Alfred, I had a good art teacher at one time, and while he failed to make a master painter of me, he taught me to see.
I can look into a puddle of mud and see the subtleties of gray and brown and green, and the iridescent beauty of a swirl of oil,
where I can see form and pattern in a barbed wire fence, and the blue and the violet and the shadow of a dead tree.
I cannot accept your kind of perception which does not see the puddle, the fence, or the dead tree.
Well, that may be, Dr. Hall, but we tell people what to see.
That's the function of the plastic consciousness of sympathetic universalism. That's its unique advantage.
Advantage? Now, there's a word I recognize.
Now, consider the unique advantage of the interpenetration of planes. Velocity is an absolute.
It was brillig in the slidy toves to jar and gimble in the wave.
What was that again, Mrs. Hall?
Oh, mimsy, one of the bollagos in the mome-rass art grave.
Lewis Carroll's Jabberwockies, like your Jabberwocky, only he made fun of such things and you proposed to make use of them.
At a moment when mankind needs artists to remind them of their essential dignity, you would make them feel doubtful about the value of kindness and pity.
So, you see, I'm prejudiced. And that's why I must decline to serve as a judge, Alfred.
I'm sorry our viewpoints are not en rapport, Dr. Hall.
En rapport? Où est la express company américaine?
It's also discouraging to find the head of an educational institution unwilling to accept new concepts.
Well, I'm sorry to have taken up your time, sir.
Oh, not at all.
Good night, Dr. Hall.
Good night.
Mrs. Hall.
Good night.
Good night.
Awfully young, isn't he?
Yes, I'm afraid this young man has taken his gift of self-confidence back to the store and exchanged it for a package of ego.
Oh, yes. I feel a little sorry for him. He wants to express himself and doesn't know yet that self-expression is from the heart as well as from the head.
Oh, I'm in favor of Alfred expressing himself, preferably to some place like British Guiana, and I will be happy to pay the express.
And who will express America? Oh, well, no, all right. But who will you get to judge this art exhibit in your place?
Well, I think perhaps someone like Charles Nevers.
Charles Nevers? Who's he?
He's a man with sharp critical judgment and a superb collection of contemporary art.
He understands both its creative and its functional aspects. Yes, Nevers is definitely the man for this.
I never heard of him. Is he an artist or just a collector?
Well, he's a wallpaper manufacturer.
Just the critic to give our Alfred a metaphorical pasting.
The Voice of America is bringing you this rebroadcast presentation of The Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman.
As we return to The Halls of Ivy, the halls are wearing a single-tone look of concern with contrasting words of relief.
Dr. Hall's acquaintance, Charles Nevers, has consented to take over the job of judging the coming art society's exhibit.
I appreciate your asking me, Dr. Hall, but why do you want me to replace you?
Well, because I've formed an opinion even before the contest begins, and that is the gravest wrong a man can perpetrate against his fellows, to judge with prejudice.
Yeah, and because you are a specialist in modern art, Mr. Nevers.
I like all forms of art, so long as they're honest.
Yes, in art as in any other department of life, there's no substitute for integrity.
I don't feel that if I fail to understand a painting, that painting is bad per se.
On the other hand, I have no compulsion to join any cult of admiration because it is the thing to do.
A model gets paid for posing.
Too many artists and too many critics do it for nothing.
Well, it's unfair competition. And if I...
Louisa's marketing, William. I'll get it. Excuse me.
Oh, thank you, darling. Now, where was I, Mr. Nevers?
Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Wellman.
Thank you, Mrs. Hoyle. This won't take long, even if you do have company.
Hello, Mr. Wellman.
I'm not in the habit of asking favors. Hello, Dr. Hoyle.
After all, it's not a request, just a recommendation.
Mr. Wellman, this is Mr. Nevers.
Nevers. Nevers? Ah, yes. Convention. Chicago. Trademark. Yes.
Wallpaper, as I remember. 1947 wallpaper. I never forget a wallpaper. How do you do?
Glad to meet you, Mr. Wellman.
Mr. Nevers and I were just having a discussion about modern art.
Well, I'm not really interested, not in art exhibits, even though this one is different.
I still don't understand it. But my wife does, and that's good enough for me because I don't understand my wife.
And that's what I came to talk to you about.
What, your wife, Mr. Wellman?
Yes, exactly, Mrs. Hoyle. My wife has a friend who has a daughter.
Well, it's a small world, isn't it?
And her daughter goes to Ivy. She paints. She painted a picture in this exhibit.
And that's what I came to see you about. Nothing very big, nothing too obvious, something small. Surprise.
But, Mr. Wellman... See what you can do. Porter.
I beg your pardon?
Porter. That's the girl's name.
Oh. I told you, Dr. Hoyle.
Mr. Wellman, I'm sure you don't mean that the judges of this exhibit should be biased or show any kind of favoritism.
I don't? No, well, I guess I...
No, you are. You are simply suggesting that Mr. Nevers here should not overlook the entry of the daughter of the friend of your wife.
What has Mr. Nevers got to do with my wife's daughter? I mean, my friend's wife.
I mean my daughter's friend. I mean... What do you mean, Dr. Hoyle?
Mr. Wellman, I am not a judge in the contest. Mr. Nevers is taking my place.
But he's a businessman. I mean, what has business got to do with art? Unless you want to sell it.
I agree with you, Mr. Wellman, that this is an exhibit and not a sales convention. However, I...
Thank you, Mr. Nevers.
Naturally, you as a businessman would see the situation clearly. But I am shocked, Dr. Hoyle, that you would turn a cultural event into which an opportunity for an art exhibit into a sordid commercial enterprise.
If I were doing that, then I would also be shocked, Mr. Wellman. However, the simple fact is that I have disqualified myself because of a prejudicial viewpoint.
Oh? So you don't understand that doodling either.
Well, in that case, who'll know the difference? Give a first prize.
No, Mr. Wellman, many people will know the difference, especially Mr. Nevers, because there's a difference of merit between the various samples of what you call doodling.
Well, I told you I wasn't interested. But what am I going to tell my wife?
Well, tell her the truth, that you didn't get to first base.
She hates baseball, Mrs. Hall.
Well, all I can say is wallpaper. Good day, Mr. Nevers. Good day, Dr. Hall. Don't bother, Mrs. Hall. I know my way out.
He seems to have a strong resistance to a contrary opinion.
Yeah, or a contrary resistance to a strong opinion.
Well, your awareness of that fact is one of the reasons why I'm glad you're going to be a judge this afternoon, Mr. Nevers.
Are you sure you still want me? I'll have to give my honest opinion, and that might lead to more trouble with Mr. Wellman.
If your opinions of the art show don't lead to trouble with Mr. Wellman, I shall suspect their integrity. Good hunting, Mr. Nevers.
Well, I haven't played the piano for a long time, Toddy.
It's very soothing.
It's very satisfying, too. On a piano, everything is right there in black and white.
I hope Mr. Nevers found the exhibit interesting.
Yeah, I hope so, too. Do you remember how much fun we had, darling, crawling around those galleries and museums in London?
I'm surprised that I didn't view every display with scorn and contempt.
Why?
Well, because I had Walking by My Side, the most beautiful exhibit in all England.
Oh, that's a good one, that is.
As a matter of fact, my love, while I was pointing out some inspired composition, some masterpiece of light and shadow, I was most likely looking at you instead of the painting.
That was probably because you had to point at things with your left hand.
I was holding on to your other one.
Oh, Toddy, you were so nice to be with and still are.
Thank you, my sweet. I echo the sentiment with fervency and gratitude.
Life with you is like walking through a permanent exhibit of everything that's good and beautiful.
You're a one-man show, darling, and I'm happy to be the one man. And I'm glad, too, that...
No, Louise will answer the door, darling. Maybe Mr. Nevers to report about the exhibit.
Mr. Wellman, without whom life would be so placid. However, placidity can turn to just acidity if its monotony is not relieved by a...
Oh, come in, Mr. Wellman.
I am in.
Hello, hello. Did you know, Dr. Hall, that Mr. Nevers completely ignored the potter girl, ignored her painting completely, not even honorable mention?
Despite my personal recommendation, did you know that?
No, we didn't, Mr. Wellman.
Oh, I'm sure, Mr. Wellman, that he judged her work solely on the basis of its merit, without any other consideration.
Of course he did.
Bless his heart.
Her painting was the worst thing in the show. Looked like it was painted with a toothbrush, with oil out of a sardine can.
Horrible. My wife is terribly upset, but not I. I'm delighted.
We thought you wanted her to win the prize, Mr. Wellman.
I did, naturally, because my wife had her heart set on it. Otherwise, I never would. I mean, suppose she had won a prize.
How would it make me look? Me, chairman of the board of governors. I mean, a man in my position trying to use my influence.
Did you hear what Mr. Nevers did and what Alfred Chirmanly did after Mr. Nevers did it?
No, we didn't.
He offered that fellow, that Chirmanly, he offered him $1,000 for the right to use his painting to make a wallpaper pattern.
That wasn't a prize, it was a sale.
Are you shocked at the fact that the special award was given for design, or are you protesting that $1,000 was paid for it?
Both.
Who's that?
You go right ahead, Mr. Wellman, and I'll find out for you.
His $1,000 is his, but the reputation of Ivy is mine. What will happen to our art department, laughing stock?
Excuse me for interrupting, Dr. Hall, but I had to see you.
Of course. Come in, Alfred. Do you know Mr. Wellman?
Yes. Hello, Mr. Wellman.
Bravo, Alfred Chirmanly. Three cheers!
What do you mean, cheers?
Because even if it isn't good business sense, you turned down the $1,000. That's idealism. That's what I was cheering.
And that's all I have to say, Dr. Hall. Good day. Congratulations, Chirmanly, and my sympathy.
Give my regards to Mrs. Wellman.
She's not speaking to me. Goodbye.
Goodbye.
I would also like to congratulate you, Alfred. But why did you turn down the offer?
Dr. Hall, I've never been so humiliated in my life. I want to be recognized for my creativeness. I don't want to be insulted with just money.
Well, I'm glad I'm not so sensitive.
Besides, he doesn't know the first thing about art. He thinks that my painting of time and space in limbo would make a good wallpaper pattern. Why, it was a new emotional configuration.
Well, here we go again.
Mr. Nevers was biased, besides being incompetent to judge this kind of art.
I don't think Mr. Chirmanly understands about Mr. Nevers, William.
Well, what is there to understand about a wallpaper manufacturer pretending to be an art critic?
Mr. Nevers has one of the finest collections of contemporary art in the United States.
He has? Well, anyone can buy paintings if they have the money. It doesn't make them critics.
Mr. Nevers is also rated as an expert on paintings, Alfred.
Oh, yes. He's consulted by galleries all over the world and by the United States Customs Office to authenticate paintings.
No. Yes.
Well, that makes all the difference.
Of course it does, Alfred. It's not a case of a businessman buying some of your art to make a label for toothpaste.
This is a matter of an acknowledged art expert selecting one of your designs to make things brighter in American homes.
As long as your work hangs on people's walls, Alfred, what does it matter whether it's put up with wire or paste?
I mean, you still contributed something. You've created a new design for living. And people live in living rooms, not art galleries.
Well, maybe my trouble is I don't know enough about living or living rooms. I've been so busy living by a theory.
Well, Dr. Hall, I'm glad you weren't one of the judges.
Yes, so am I. We can't afford to give anybody a thousand dollars.
Well, it's not only that I'll be ahead a thousand dollars, Mrs. Hall. Dr. Hall's refusal to judge this art exhibit has improved my judgment.
I've lost some of my overconfidence, but I'm way ahead in my education.
Well, I'm glad I did something to fulfill my proper function, Alfred. I can't give cash prizes, but sometimes a little education is a prize worth winning.
I believe with Aristotle that learning is an ornament in prosperity, a refuge in adversity, and a provision in old age.
We'll be seeing you next week at this same time at the Halls of Ivy, starring Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman.
Mr. Wellman is played by Herbert Butterfield. Alfred Chirmendy was Paul Friess, and Mr. Niebuhrs was Stanley Farrar.
Tonight's script was written by Arthur Ross and Don Quinn. Music was composed and conducted by Henry Russell.
Oh, we love the halls of Ivy That surround us here today
And we will not forget, though we be far, far away
Through the hallowed halls of Ivy Every voice will bid farewell
And shimmer off in twilight Like the old Westberg Inn
One day a hush will fall The footsteps of us all Will echo down the hall and disappear
But as we sadly start Our journeys are apart
A part of every heart will linger here In the sacred halls of Ivy
Where we've lived and learned to know That through the years we'll see you In the sweet afterglow
We'll remember halls of Ivy In the sweet afterglow
Thank you for watching!