INT. LIVING ROOM – LATE 1940s – EVENING

A 1940s NUCLEAR FAMILY sits around an elegant ZENITH CONSOLE RADIO only half-interested in the CHATTER coming out of it. MOTHER knits, FATHER reads the paper, SIS plays with her doll, and JUNIOR reads a comic book.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (O.S.)

Join us tomorrow for the next installment of The Guiding Light. Now, stay tuned for the Bing Crosby Show presented by Chesterfield cigarettes.

RADIO CHATTER continues as the family sits quietly and continues their activities.

Suddenly, SIRENS BLARE over the radio. All jump up out of their seats and look around.

MOTHER

What’s that?!

FATHER

Air raid?

RADIO AUDIENCE (O.S.)

(chanting)

Cros-by! Cros-by! Cros-by!

All sit down baffled. Audience continues to chant over the radio.

CUT TO:

INT. RADIO STUDIO

Standing on stage in front of an eight-piece BAND, an ANNOUNCER, SINGERS, and ACTORS congregate around several standing microphones holding their scripts and smoking cigarettes. A SOUND MAN huddles in the corner turning the crank on a SIREN. The band plays. A FEMALE TRIO begins singing “Anything Goes” while the Announcer talks over them.

TRIO

In olden days a glimpse of stocking/Was looked on as something shocking...

ANNOUNCER

Welcome to the Bing Crosby Show presented by Chesterfield cigarettes...

TRIO (CONT’D)

Anything goes/When grandmamma whose age is eighty/In night clubs is getting matey with gigolos...

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)

Milder. Better tasting. Everything you want in a cigarette, you’ll find in a Chesterfield.

TRIO (CONT’D)

Anything goes.

ANNOUNCER

Now here’s your host. The King of Crooners, the Sultan of Schlock... Bing Cros-by!

AUDIENCE (O.S.)

Cros-by! Cros-by! Cros-by!

Audience continues to chant as BING CROSBY prances out on stage and walks to his microphone. MUSIC ends. Audience APPLAUDS.

BING

Yes, anything goes indeed. Well, hello, hello, hello. Great to be here. Great to see all of you wonderful people here in the studio and out there in radio-land. Anyway, folks we have a dilly of a show today. Just a killer-diller. Our topic today... My Daddy’s a Dame...

CUT TO:

Living room. Dramatic ORGAN MUSIC plays. Mother and Father look at each other in shock. Sis tugs at Mother’s dress.

SIS

Ma, what does getting matey with gigolos mean?

Mother and Father look at each other in distress.

MOTHER

Time for bed.

SIS

But ...

FATHER

You heard Mother.

Mother and Father watch as Sis and Junior reluctantly trudge upstairs. Doors SLAM.

Mother and Father look at each other, smile, and then scramble to get to their chairs. They sit down and turn the radio up.

BING (O.S.)

We got a guy here today who’s a little confused. Not that we all aren’t a little confused from time to time. This guy, though...he doesn’t know whether he’s a fella or a lady. Please give a warm round of applause for Edgar.

Audience APPLAUDS.

BING (O.S.)

Welcome, Edgar.

EDGAR (O.S.)

(gentle, effeminate voice)

Pleasure to be here.

BING (O.S.)

So, Edgar, why do you like to dress like the gals?

CUT TO:

Studio. Standing in front of his microphone smoking a cigarette, a large, overly manly ACTOR plays Edgar.

ACTOR/EDGAR

(gentle, effeminate voice)

I don’t know. Ever since I can remember, I’ve always been drawn to charmeuse and French lace. And Chesterfields, of course. A favorite of women everywhere.

BING

Nothin’ like those Chesterfields. Smooth and the right combination of the world’s best tobaccos.

ACTOR

The problem is, I haven’t been able get up the gumption to tell my family.

BING

Would you like to tell them?

ACTOR

Maybe.

BING

Well, this is your lucky day, cousin. Please welcome to the show Edgar’s wife, Mary, and daughter, little Suzy.

CUT TO:

Living room. MUSIC plays. Mother’s and Father’s jaws drop as they stare at the radio intensely.

MARY (O.S.)

You, you...you big...meanie!

ACTOR/EDGAR (O.S.)

I wanted to tell you but...

MARY (O.S.)

Now I understand why my... (whispers) unmentionables... (normal voice) are stretched out beyond recognition. And why all of my Chesterfield cigarettes keep disappearing.

SUZY (O.S.)

Daddy?

CUT TO:

Studio. Exhaling a puff of smoke, the same burly Actor plays Suzy.

ACTOR/SUZY

(high-pitched voice)

Why do you dress like Mommy?

ACTOR/EDGAR

Uh....

BING

Edgar, now your friends...your friends must be mortified by this. Absolutely mortified.

ACTOR/EDGAR

Fortunately, none of them know.

BING

Well, that’s about to change.

ACTOR/EDGAR

What do you mean?

CUT TO:

Living room. Mother and Father stare at the radio with anticipation.

MOTHER

What does he mean?

BING (O.S.)

Everyone say hello to Edgar’s best friend, Joe.

MOTHER & FATHER

(to each other)

No.

JOE (O.S.)

You no good... lame brain... pantywaist! (beat) You smoke Chesterfields!

SFX of Joe jumping over chairs and tables, charging toward Edgar. LOUD CRASH as if Joe tackled Edgar into the table.

Mother and Father jump out of their seats.

CUT TO:

Studio. Sound Man drops pots and pans onto wood and throws other items around. Actor/Edgar and ACTOR #2/JOE stand calmly in front of their microphones smoking their cigarettes.

ACTOR/EDGAR

Wait, Joe! I can explain!

ACTOR #2/JOE

Applesauce!

Getting carried away, the Sound Man picks up a studio chair and crashes it over the table. He continues to break various items around him while Actor/Edgar and Actor #2/Joe yell at each other indiscriminately.

ANNOUNCER

Well, Bing, it looks like Edgar and Joe have some things to sort out.

BING

They certainly do. And while they may not agree on everything, they certainly will agree that Chesterfields are the best tasting cigarettes out there...

MUSIC plays. Female trio chimes in as Bing begins to sing an adapted version of “Anything Goes.” CRASHING and YELLING continue off screen.

BING & TRIO

Mother, fathers will all attest/If you’re looking for a cigarette that smokes the best for a steal....

BING

Bu-buh, buh, buh, bo...

From behind, Sound Man crashes a chair over Bing’s head. Bing falls to the ground. All stop. Bing looks up.

BING

(painfully)

Keep going. The sponsors....

Bing passes out. MUSIC resumes.

TRIO

(happily)

Buy Chesterfields.

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