Oh man, I'll have to ask you not to gong like that.
Oh well, uh, yeah.
That's not right in my ear, man.
Well, I was just trying to...
It's too piercing, man.
It's too piercing.
Well, see, the gong was to separate me from the commercials you just heard.
I mean, I don't want people to think I'm a cigarette or a used car.
Well, what are you, man?
I'm Stan Freeberg.
Too piercing, man.
Too piercing, yeah.
Well, that's the breaks.
Hit it, Billy.
Wow.
This is the fourth show of the series of a brand new radio series.
From Hollywood, we present the Stan Freeberg Show.
With the music of Billy Mayer.
Plus the song of Peggy Taylor with North Butler Tune Parade, Peter Lee's and Judd Conlon rhythm
air.
You may not find us on your TV.
Because in case you did not know, we're being brought to you on, brought to you on, brought
to you on our ADI.
Oh.
Now, one of the dramatic scenes we know you've been waiting for.
The stage lights dim and the spotlight finds our announcer, Burnside Mantle.
Thank you.
Great moments in history.
We bring you the story behind these moments.
The time is April the 18th, 1775.
The place Charleston, Massachusetts.
It is night and high in the steeple of the Old North Church, two lanterns are gleaming.
One if by land and two if by sea.
The British are coming.
Quick, quick, Paul Revere, quick.
The British are coming.
Get on the horse.
Once you give me the money, then I'll get on the horse.
Doke includes another gem from the files of our historical stool pigeon and research man,
Robert E. Tainter.
Bob had to mail his expose in today as he's been temporarily detained.
I hope they at least put a radio in his cell so he can hear the show.
An answer to all the hundreds of letters we've received asking just exactly what yogurt is,
I'm sorry, we don't know.
Pardon me.
Oh yes, Peggy?
Well, yogurt, a dairy product, is prepared from milk, partly evaporated and fermented
by lactobacillus vulgarius.
And for you true lovers of cupcakes and other goodies, that was the voice of Peggy Taylor.
See, how did you know what yogurt was?
Oh, I know a lot of little things, Dan.
You want to know the population of Winnetka?
No, that won't be necessary.
Just glad you could drop by, Peggy.
See, you look as pretty and perky.
Dan, why don't you just let me sing, huh?
Now with the help of Judd Collin's rhythm airs, here's Peggy Taylor.
Sing, Peggy.
All right, Jack.
I like the likes of you, I like the things you do.
I mean, I like the likes of you.
I like your eyes of blue, I think they're blue, don't you?
I mean, I like your eyes of blue.
Dear, if I could only say what I mean, I mean if I could mean what I say, that is I mean
to say that I mean to say that I like the likes of you.
If your looks are pure to look, looks like I like the likes of you.
Oh dear, if I could only say what I mean, I mean if I could mean what I say, that is
I mean to say that I mean to say that I like the likes of you.
If your looks are pure to look, looks like I like the likes of you.
Looks like I like the looks of you.
I mean, I like the likes of you.
We are fortunate to have with us the eminent electronics engineer and scientist, Dr. Herman
Horn, who will demonstrate for us the meaning of the word hi-fi.
Thank you.
And incidentally, hi-fi is two words hyphenated in the middle.
The word hi-fi, two words, I've told you once, I won't tell you again.
The words hi-fi, that's better, have become a part of our daily vocabulary.
Still, many people do not completely understand.
And so, it is to them that this lecture is dedicated.
Doctor, one moment please.
I'm testing the equipment so I'll be ready for the lecture that big fat mouth of yours
never stops flapping when you introduce me.
I'm trying to.
Well, try a little harder.
Please.
Well, as Edison was to the incandescent lamp, as Whitney was to the cotton gin, as Abby
is to rinse, so is Dr. Herman Horn to stereophantic orthopedic cinnamaguanarhomophonic sound is
the copyrighted name for my own personal hi-fi system, which I have developed.
What the good doctor really means is hi-fi short for high fidelity, or music recorded
with complete frequency and full dynamic range plus great musical balance, then engineered
and pressed with critical electronic precision.
Somebody asked you to say that?
Oh, nobody said it.
Just thought you'd throw it in, is that it?
Oh yes, I just wanted to help, you know.
Well, that's very nice, you want to help.
Say, let me show you how it can be a real help.
Take your foot and put it in this bucket of salt water.
All righty.
There we are.
Now, will you hang on to these two electrodes?
All righty.
Thank you.
Hold it.
To continue, ladies and gentlemen.
Here are some average sounds you hear every day around the house, which my assistant,
Mr. Strudelmeyer, is going to play through hi-fi.
Listen.
That was the mating call of the aardvark.
Ah, yes, you aardvarks with hi-fi sets, that was a good place in the record to test your
equipment and get jollies at the same time.
Listen again.
You know what that was?
That was the same mating call, only played backwards and slowed down.
Ah, it is no longer attractive to aardvarks in this condition, but it gives my assistant,
Strudelmeyer, goosebumps.
Here is something you don't hear every day.
That was the sound of Llewellyn Parsons at the Brown Derby putting ketchup on a clam
sandwich in hi-fi.
Hey, you'd think you were right there with Lolly, wouldn't you?
I tell you, somebody who appreciates hi-fi, that's a dog.
They can hear all the good sounds you couldn't hear, like all the highs.
You can only hear the fives.
The average dog can hear up to 40,000 cycles.
I'll play an oscillator for you.
You write down a mental note of where you can't hear anymore.
You don't hear that, do you?
That's the part the dog's like.
Don't you wish you had dog's ears?
As a matter of fact, a friend of mine back in Scranton got so mad that his dog could
hear more than he could, he went to a plastic surgeon and had dog's ears put on him.
He couldn't hear for sour apples, but he got a part in the picture, Frankenstein meets
the wolf man.
Where was I?
Oh yes, dogs.
I have recorded a whole symphony at 40,000 cycles for only dogs to hear.
If you can hear it, believe me, worry a little.
All righty, put on the record, Scrutelmeyer.
Down Scrutelmeyer.
Take the record off.
Too bad, they get too emotional.
Scrutelmeyer, the liver is for them.
So concludes the first of a series of fascinating lectures on hi-fi by Dr. Herman Horn.
I feel sure that you, like us, will get a lot from these educational talks.
The preceding four minutes of time has been relinquished by Stan Freberg in honor of deafen
your neighbor's wheat.
The Lox Audio Theater, brought to you by Lox Soap, the only salmon-shaped bar that swims
up tub.
Here is your host, that grand, grand star with a wide, wide smile, C.B.
Digby.
Good evening from Hollywood.
Well, I have for you a stirring psychological drama, adapted especially for the Lox Audio
Theater from that lovable motion picture, Rock Around My Nose.
Our stars are the screen's most lovable old cojap, Mr. Evanston, Illinois, and that delightful
child actor, Bobby Finster, recently starred in Pillow Fight at the OK Nursery School.
As usual after our play, I'll be talking with these glamorous stars in our very own green
room.
And now, from Hollywood, the Lox Audio Theater presents Rock Around My Nose.
In the library of his palatial mansion on his magnificent estate in Puse Hills, Connecticut,
a troubled man sits aimlessly playing with his fabulous collection of pigeon-blood rubies.
As the priceless gems trickle from his aimless fingers and spill to the floor to be sucked
down by a delighted cocker spaniel, foster Farthington Chatsworth III, the lonely millionaire,
is thinking deeply.
Please, but let him tell us his problem.
I have lost all hope of getting close to my son, Julius Chatsworth IV.
Since Julius was a baby, I've had trouble getting close to him.
And now, there's Julius now.
Julius, my son, come get close to me.
Are you kidding?
What's the matter, son?
Let me get close to you, boy.
Oh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.
Why, you can't get close to me.
What is it?
Well, Dad, it's just as plain as the...
Oh, what's the use?
I can't tell you.
So long, Dad.
Julius, where are you going?
I'm going out to pick up a girl.
But Julius, what about your poor old father?
You get your own girl.
He was gone, and I still could not get close to him.
Little did I know what was going on at the Puce Hill Sweet Shop.
Hiya, Julius.
Oh, hi, Marty.
How's things at the butcher shop?
Oh, I managed to do a little cutting up.
How's with you?
Oh, same old thing.
Come down here, drink in straight shots, talk realistic dialogue.
I'm not getting any younger.
I made a mockery of my life.
I want to get married.
But you're only eight years old.
Oh, you're always throwing that in my face.
What's the matter?
Are you cold?
No, I'm struggling inwardly.
Julius began to spend night after night at the Puce Hill Sweet Shop.
I could no longer interest him in a hobby, so I took up a hobby.
I began to study golf.
And one day at the country club as I was taking a lesson from the pro...
No, no, no, no, Mr. Chatsworth.
No, you're sliced again.
You've got to keep your eye on the ball.
Yes, I know, but that's very difficult, Mac.
My nose overshadowed it.
Aye, hmm.
You've got a pretty big perversus.
It is a bit outside, isn't it?
Oh, I wish I had that nose full of nickels.
That nose full of nickels.
I had heard that phrase before, walking along the street.
Hey, Kurt, get a load of that bugle.
Boy, would I like to have that nose full of nickels.
Nose full of nickels, nose full of nickels, nose full of nickels, nose full of nickels,
nose full of nickels, nose full of nickels.
Stop it!
I...
I began to think about my nose.
How many nickels would it hold?
I decided to find out.
In my office, next day...
Here are the nickels, Mr. Chatsworth.
Banks and all they have.
Excellent, excellent, Miss Braindrie.
Now I want you to pour them into my nose.
Are you kidding?
Not at all.
I want to see how many nickels my nose will hold.
Well, you're the boss.
Say, you'll have to stand on your head.
All right.
I'll do it.
Perfect.
All right.
Start pouring.
Okay.
I guess that does it.
You can stand up now.
Okay.
All right.
Start counting, Miss Braindrie.
When the final count was in, I learned something new about myself.
The number of nickels that my nose could accommodate amounted to $241.73.
That $.73 bothered me.
Oh, well.
That night in our drawing room, I confided in my wife, Mrs. Foster Chatsworth, third.
Foster the third, that's it.
That's why you can't get close to your son, Julius.
It's your nose.
Remember when you used to pick him up from the cradle, you couldn't see him?
By thunder, I think you've hit it.
And now that he's grown taller whenever I try to get close to him, my nose knocks him
down.
That's why he backs away.
Cops, Chatsworth, the third, there's only one thing to do.
Yes.
I've got to get a nose job.
And so I went to a first rate nose shrinker.
There you are, Mr. Chatsworth.
From now on, your nose wouldn't hold enough nickels for a local phone call.
Thank you very much, doctor.
Julius, my son.
Who are you?
Why, I'm your dad, Foster Farthington Chatsworth.
The third.
Right.
Dad, you got a short nose.
Yes, son.
Now I can get close to you.
And I can get close to you.
Oh, dad, I've missed you so.
No, no, no, no.
It was my fault, son.
I've been short-sighted and long-nosed.
Oh, dad.
Julius, my son.
Only a nose I give you.
Only a nose I give to you.
And so you have heard rock around my nose, specially adapted for the Luxe Audio Theater.
And now here in our very own green room with me are the stars of this lovable production,
Mr. Evanston, Illinois, and little Bobby Finster.
It's a great honor to have you in the green room, Evanston.
Well, it's a great honor to be in the green room, CB.
And that was a delightful performance you just gave, Bobby.
Well, I felt that, you know, it was a challenge, CB.
Well, you met that challenge beautifully for an eight-year-old boy.
I think we can knock off that eight-year-old boy routine any time now, you know.
Look, I'm a 37-year-old midget with a wife and three kids in Kansas City.
In that order.
Tell me, Evanston, how did it seem to be working with little Bobby Finster again?
Perfectly miserable.
Well, surely your children...
It wasn't exactly a picnic for me, Mr. Evanston, has been, Illinois.
What do you mean, has been?
Ah, come on, you big ham.
If you hadn't gotten this job tonight, they would have turned off your gas.
Why, you vicious little monster.
Take your hands off me, you old goat.
Evanston, pick him in the deep.
We're having a little fun here in our very own green room tonight, folks.
I see our time is up.
Now, next week...
Who cares about next week?
How much do I get paid for next week?
Shut up, Finster, shut up.
What do you want next week, CD?
What are you doing after this show, baby?
What, what's all the doing with that smile?
Keep away from her.
I'm so trained.
Lock, lock, the only salmon-shaped bar that swims up hub has brought you another formal
interview in our very own little green room.
Next week we present Love Thy Neighbor.
Mr. CD did be saying...
Take your foot out of my mouth.
Good night to you from Hollywood.
In Mr. H. Alan Smith's book, The Rebel Yell, there seems to be some dispute among Southerners
as to how the actual Southern rebel yell went.
Mr. Smith points out that there are certain schools who believe it went ha, yip, yip,
yip, wahoo, and other people down there think that it went tutti frutti, tutti frutti, a
wap, bam, booey.
But I personally, having done a little research on the subject, believe that the rebel yell
went like this.
Yee-haw!
Don't let me startle you.
I'm just doing a rebel yell here to kind of kick things off.
You know what I mean?
There's Yellow Rose in Texas, and I am going to see.
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me.
I cried so when I...
Excuse me.
That's just a shade loud on the snare drum.
She's the sweetest little rosebud, like Texas' devil in it.
Her eyes are bright and diamond, they sparkle like the dew.
See now, you've covered up Sparkle like the dew, one of the loveliest parts in the whole
Texas is the only girl for me.
You've covered up the piccolo's there.
Where the ryo, Gran?
Where the ryo?
Where?
Woof!
See, my feeling is that whilst I love the good snare drum, I feel that volume-wise,
it's just a little bit too much what you're doing there, see?
You know what I mean?
Now you're trying to hold it down, will you?
Appreciate it.
Where the ryo, Gran?
Appreciate it.
Where the ryo, Gran?
It's blowing and sorry, it's got that sputter.
He walks along the river, under my...
Oh, that's so much better.
You know that there's just a world of differences.
Oh, mercy, see?
I play the robot, that's Texas, there's the ryo.
See now, you're slipping back in your old habits again.
Why do you do that?
Why do you?
Texas is the only girl for me.
I love the good snare drum, you know, but I'll take you back.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
People, people, let's go back there.
The snare drummer covered up the twa-la-la.
We'll just do it again, that's all.
Smart, Ellie.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
See how lovely that turned out?
Now that's the darlin' part.
Okay, banjo go yug-dug-a-dug-a-dug.
I've heard, I've heard, oh now I'm gonna find her.
I'm a heart is full of wool.
We'll do the things together we did so long ago.
We'll play the banjo gaily.
Excuse me, you ain't any kin to the snare drummer, are ya?
See, we just played a little bit, that's extra seven-o.
Her eyes are blinding, why do you do that?
Why do you burst out like that?
There it takes me, there it takes me, that's all.
From the yellow roads of Texas.
Hold on.
Hold on there, you smart aleck Yankee drummer.
Listen, you can cover up yellow.
You can cover up rose, buddy, buddy.
But don't you curl up, tickle.
What do I mean by you curl up, tickle?
Now stick your head through that cotton-picking snare drum
and see seed from the band, so help me Mitch Miller, I will.
And the yellow roads of Texas will be mine forever and ever.
Oh man, the record holder, you idiot.
Stop it, I say.
Stop it.
Stop it now.
I'm getting out of here.
He ruined the ending.
One of the loveliest parts in the whole piece.
Thank you, thank you very much.
Well, that's about it for this time around.
I'll be back next week with a new throat.
Crazy.
Oh yes, I forgot about you.
Well, you've tried our show.
Yeah, man.
And you've tried other shows?
Yeah, man.
Well, what is your conclusion?
Well, your show is louder, man.
It bugs me.
And it's more piercing, definitely more piercing.
Thank you.
So until next week, this is Stan Freberg saying,
thanks for listening, God bless you, and good night.
The Stan Freberg Show is produced in Hollywood by Pete Barnum,
and is written by Stan Freberg, Pete Barnum, Jack Roach,
and Doris Butler with original songs by Stan Freberg.
Featuring the music of Billy May, Judd Conlon,
Drew the Mayor, and the songs of Peggy Taylor with Doris Butler,
Peter Leeds, and June Florey.
That's Hans Conrad, but still speaking.
Thank you.