Here Comes the Groom

1

Good morning, Boston

Morning Express. Extension 52?

Boston, Massachusetts

calling Paris, France.

We want the International

Refugee Organization,

Children's Center Number 46 calling

Mr. Peter Garvey, G-A-R-V-E-Y,

person to person. Mr. George Degnan

calling from Boston...

"Wanted:
a mother".

That's not sob stuff!

- That's good human interest!

- Your Paris call is coming.

Do you realize over 300 war orphans

have been adopted here in Boston?

Fire him?

Fire Pete Garvey? Me?

Why, I wouldn't fire him if...

All right, you can get yourself

another editor, Mr. F.C.

He's perfectly right,

I should fire him.

- Where is that woman? Esther!

- Yes, sir!

- Get me Pete Garvey.

- He's coming on.

- Who?

- Pete Garvey, in Paris.

- Operator, put him on.

- "Robert Dulac, Number 401.

"Robert is only 10 years old,

but he's never had a childhood.

"His parents were both killed

in the late war."

- Hello, Pete! Hiya, toots!

- Give me that phone!

Don't snap your twig, Mr. Degnan.

He's doing a wonderful job.

At least smile.

Yelling won't bring him back.

Peter, dear. I miss you, Peter.

I've told you by letter, by cable,

by carrier pigeon that I miss you.

Now it's costing me an overseas call

to tell you I miss you, Peter.

Get your... Get yourself back here

immediately or you're fired.

Why didn't you answer

my cables, you...?

George, there's children

in the room. Nix.

I'm taking you off salary,

so help me, Pete!

You get back here on the first plane

or you can stay in Paris forever.

Now, are you coming back or not?

Hello?

Hello?

You peanut-brained son of a

peanut-brained kangaroo, you still on?

Hello! Hello?

Pete, you hear what I said?

George, I'm sorry,

you're just not getting through to me.

- I'll call you back later.

- You stay on this phone!

I can't. I gotta go practice baseball

with my team, the Notre Dame Tigers.

We lost a thriller last week, 48 to 47.

We gotta go practice.

We're playing the United Nations

Cubs. We'll win, because I'm pitching.

Oh, it's the mailman!

Yeah.

That's always a big event here,

George, the mailman.

- Hello, Pierre!

- Hello, Pierre!

Bonjour, Monsieur Garvey!

They don't get any letters, these kids,

but the mailman's wife

bakes them cookies every day.

You know why

they don't get any letters?

I'll tell you why,

because they don't belong to anybody.

I'm touched, there's a lump

in my throat, my heart is bleeding.

Oh, but you'll rally, George.

You'll rally. Fight, pitch.

Your article on Robert Dulac

touched me...

Oh, Bobby!

Say, he's some kid.

He speaks English. Yeah,

and he's a natural second baseman.

Goes to his right or his left,

throws underhand, switch hitter.

Do you think the Express pays you

a salary to teach punks

to play baseball and shoot marbles?

- It keeps him out of the pool halls.

- Who cares?

Besides, he just sort of took to me.

You remember, like I took to you?

All I remember is,

I'm stopping your articles.

- What?

- Yes!

Bobby, go get the mail, will you?

Look, you can't do this to me.

There's still 26 children here!

I've got to, Pete.

The war orphan racket's milked dry.

It isn't news anymore.

Not news? What are you saying?

A good idea is always news.

This is the best idea since

the invention of the wheel!

There's 60 nations taking care of these

waifs, providing homes for them,

and there's five million hot meals

every day in Europe,

the Near East, in Asia,

and in the Iron Curtain...

Why, UNESCO'S building

children's homes everywhere!

We need a hypo,

something sensational.

I got just the idea for you.

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