Merry Christmas, and welcome to classic comedy of old time radio.

I'm your host, Ron Eckelbarger.

While this episode is being published two days before Christmas twenty twenty five, in the fictional town of Springfield of nineteen fifty, it is Christmas Eve and the Andersons are listening to Father tell a Christmas Tale from Days of yore.

This is episode number sixty one a Father Knows Best entitled Christmas Program.

It originally aired on December twenty one, nineteen fifty.

My other name Holley World.

Well, your father says so, and your father knows Best.

Yes, it's Father Knows Best Transcribed in Hollywood, starring Robert Young's father.

A half hour visit with your neighbors, the Andersons, brought to you by Maxwell House, the coffee that's bought and enjoyed by more people than any other brand of coffee at any price.

Maxwell House always good till the last drop.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Kathy, I'm sorry, Dad, Kathy, did you drop another box of ornaments?

Well?

They slipped, they slipped, did they?

Margaret?

What's the matter with that child.

I asked her to do a perfectly simple little thing.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.

Please continue, Thank you.

In Springfield, the streets were all covered with snow, and lights blinked the path for Saint Nicholas below, eat gods and little fishes.

Now, what happened?

You blew out a fuse?

Dad?

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

How could I do a silly thing like that?

Easy?

What?

Oh?

I mean?

Well?

I said you were putting too many lights on one circuit.

Oh you did, well, go get a flashlight or a candle or something.

How do you expect me to Oh I'm awfully sorry.

I assure you this wasn't intentional.

Please go ahead, Thank you, thank you very much.

The Andersons gathered as snug as could be, sat waiting for father to finish the tree.

When out in the hall there rode such a clatters.

I'll get it.

Hello, Hello Jane.

No, we are just trimming the tree.

Who is it, dear?

It's only Janey mother.

We'll tell you call her tomorrow.

Come back and hear with you below?

Or do I have to trim the whole tree by myself?

I'll call you tomorrow.

Janey, hmm, oh, it's my father.

He won't let anybody else touch the tree, but if you aren't there to watch, he makes out like ten men, nine dead in one dying.

Okay, Janey, easy, breezy, you'll slide a mile.

You may go ahead.

Now.

You'll never know how grateful I am.

All right, boys, went out in the hall, there arose such a clatter, Kathy, will you please leave the presence alone?

Gee?

Will when out in the hall there arose such a clatter?

Oh?

Well, what's the difference?

What I say?

Won't matter?

Go ahead, Jim, I guess that does it?

Well?

How does it look?

Oh it's beautiful, dear, really beautiful?

M hm.

The angels cook.

It, certainly is not.

That's the straightest angel I've ever seen in my life.

Okay, then the trees cook it.

But doesn't anything ever satisfy you.

I'm satisfied, but I thought you'd want to know something's.

Cooked, Jim, Dear, it's getting late.

It took me three hours to trim that tree.

And what thanks do I get?

Something's crooked?

I think it looks.

Wonderful, Daddy, Thank you, Kathy.

It's certainly different.

Father, Thank you, Betty, it still looks cooked to me, Jim, it's awfully late.

If you're going to tell the children their Christmas story, you'd better start.

They'll be up until midnight as it is.

Well, maybe they just as soon not hear the story this year.

Oh no, Daddy, Please Betty, I'd like to hear it.

Father, all right, But if the tree isn't cooked, why are all the bells cock eye?

Oh?

Oh sure I want to hear this story, Dad, Go right ahead.

How does the tree look great?

Dad?

Straight as a string?

All right?

Now that we're all agreed that ours is the most magnificent tree in Springfield, in the whole world, Daddy, well, I wouldn't go that far.

But as long as we all agree that it's a pretty nice tree, let's sit down and I'll begin.

Once upon a time, about one hundred years ago, there lived in the small Danish town of Adnsa, a man whose name, like ours, was Anderson.

He was a tall man, thin and gaunt, not too pleasing to the eye.

But he was a friendly man, gentle and kind, and his heart held so much love that the children of Denmark took him for their own.

One cold, brisk day in December, the day before Christmas.

As a matter of fact, this gentleman plodded down the main street of Odense.

The cobble street was covered with snow, and aside from their jingling bells, the sleighs were soundless as they moved swiftly along their way in the doorways of the snow capped buildings.

Peddlers call their wares Candles for the Christmas tree, Holly to deck, a festive mantle with bright red berries and verted leaves, few logs for a flaming fire, anything your fancy might desire.

Misito, A strig of mizito for your dog.

My near, Good afternoon from Miisling, And how are you this lovely clear day?

Hello hell Anderson?

How could I be?

I grow old and weary, and my bones are full of aches and pains.

Ool, No one is old, frough, Miisling.

As long as the heart is young and the spirit is gay, no one grows old.

And what about the feet?

Look, Anderson rules in my shoes?

How can your spirit be gay when you must stand in the snow.

With holes in your shoes?

That is easily fixed.

Hair Bremmer has the skill of a genius.

In one minute at his cobbler's bench.

He can make your shoes like you.

Her Bremmer, that thief, that scoundrel.

Do you know, her Anderson, I have heard that her Bremer uses cordboard instead of leather.

Cordboard, mind you froom, Miisly, I'm surprised you have been looking in the hobgoblins mirror.

Ahir Anderson, you and your hobgoblins.

Those are fairy tales for children, not old winging fairy tales.

You think that the stories I tell are not true?

From Miisley, I am shocked.

Ask any child in Denmark and he will tell you I speak nothing but.

The truth about hobgoblins.

Well, perhaps I exaggerate a little, but in my stories.

People do not gossip.

People do not spread rumors.

No one says that hair Bremer's leather is mostly cardboard unless they have looked in the hobgoblin's mirror.

But herr Anders and I have been told how else does her Brema grow rich?

He works hard, he is frugal, and he has a good heart.

The one who told me she has a good.

Heart too, Then it was she who looked in the hobgoblin's mirror.

Fruemisling.

This was an evil goblin, one of the very worst, for he was the demon himself.

One day he was in a wonderful humor, for he had fashioned a mirror, a very peculiar mirror, which would appeal only to a goblin of this very low order.

You see, anything good or beautiful that was reflected in this mirror immediately shrank to almost nothing, But anything evil or ugly was instantly enlarged out of all proportion.

That was very amusing.

That demon fought, and then he had another idea, a truly evil idea.

Whenever a good kind thought passed through a person's mind, it was reflected in the mirror as a grin.

And even the hobgoblins themselves had to chuckle at this artful invention.

They scurried about with a mirror until there was not a country or a person in the whole world who had not appeared all twisted in the shape in this demon's glass, And then then threw risley.

It happened.

The hobgoblins decided to take their mirror up to heaven too.

They wanted to mock the very angels themselves, so they flew higher and higher, the higher into the sky, closer and closer to the realm of angels.

And the higher they flew, the larger became the grim and the mirror.

The thoughts of the angels, pure and kind as a thought can be, shook the mirror so that it plummeted to Earth, where it was shattered into a one hundred million pieces.

And that was very sad promising.

For some of these fragments, no margin than a grain of dust, still float about the world.

Each of them carries with it just a tiny bit of the Hobgoblin's power.

Each little piece makes one see evil where there is good, ugliness where there is beauty.

Fruemisling, I think I see it now in the corner of your eye, a tiny speck.

Let me take it.

Out, Yes, Manny, take it out, Please take it out, Pruemising, you are trembly.

There's no need to be.

Afraid Understen You and your stories you make me forget.

That is too bad.

I wish only to make you remember and to snap out her brema.

I should not have spoken as I did.

Will you forgive me?

There?

It's out, that evil piece of glass, you see.

It's as easy as that.

You are a very good man.

Her Anderson here.

Take this sprig of mistletoe.

It will cost you nothing.

I shall treasure it through Miisling to the end of my days.

Go away before you chum the buttons off my shoes.

Goodbye for Miisling, and a merry Christmas to you.

Merry Christmas, Her Anderson and God go with you mistletoe sp.

Well, wager, I cut a handsome figure with a sprig of mistletoe pinto my coat.

Very handsome, indeed, I shall say to Jonas Colin, I need no advance, you skin flint of a publisher.

See who but a wealthy man could afford mistletoe for his coat.

That's just what I'll say.

Oh well, I mean doors and lad Good afternoon, Jonas, Am I late?

Yeah?

Late?

Then when are you ever on time?

Well?

Sprig of mistletoe?

Such affluent?

Oh it is nothing, nothing at all.

Poor from Mersling.

She gives away more than she selves.

I a yes, she's a very good woman.

Jonas, sit down, my friend, please, we must have a very long talk.

Then you've read my new story, yes, I've read them.

Tell me what am I going to do with you?

That isn't important?

What are you going to do with my story?

What can I do with them?

Nothing, Jonas, If only you can understand, I understand, Hans Christian Andersen, you drive a man beyond understanding.

You write like an angel.

Your words have wings, and you waste them, you throw them away on this.

Dribble, Jonas, you're not being very kind and being truthful.

Hans, why do you do it?

Why do you persist in this foolishness?

Foolishness is a point of view, my friend.

I am very happy with what I write.

Good, be happy, and be poor with your talent, with your imagination.

You write the great Danish novel, a play which would pour money into your pockets.

I am happier as I am writing the things I feel I must write.

But why, Hans, tell me, why must there always be a reason?

All right, you shall have a reason.

I am in love with all the people of all the world, and I have a message for them, a message which I can best plant in the spring, when the earth is green and the world is very young.

It is a simple message, Jonas, of love and faith, and it takes roots swiftly in the hearts of children.

That is why I write for them.

That is my life that I shall continue to do now you have your reason.

Hans.

You are a fool, I know, do I get my advance all right?

But only because I am a fool too good.

Then the world is not lost.

If there is a rich fool for every poor fool, all will come out right in the end.

Goodbye, Jonas, and thank you for your advice and the advance, all particularly the ad That's a Merry Christmas to you, Jonas.

Perhaps if you were to smile just once, Pruemising might give you a sprig of mistletoe.

Merry Christmas, Hans, God go with you, oh my poor friend, my poor foolish friend.

He thinks of nothing but good for humanity, and life gives him so little in return.

His heart is so full of kindness and love, and on Christmas Eve he is the loneliest man in.

All the world.

This warm and friendly holiday season of the year has always held special significance for all of us connected with Maxwell House Coffee.

For at the famous Old Maxwell House in Nashville, Tennessee, Christmas was the.

Day of all days.

On Christmas, this celebrated old hotel outdid itself in the bountiful hospitality of the season.

Tennessee Opossum garnished head of wild Cumberland bore, white swan roasted in champagne.

These and other delicacies were served in regal style when Christmas Day came round.

But of all the delicacies the old Maxwell House offered, its coffee was praised the most blended in accordance with a treasured recipe.

The flavor of this rare and mellow coffee held the essence of the joyous season.

Today, Tennessee opossum and wild Cumberland bore are forgotten.

Perhaps picturesque reminders of an earlier Christmas Day, of old fashioned Christmas cheer lives on and on, And in this spirit the makers of Maxwell House Coffee extend the heartiest of Christmas greetings to you and yours.

Daddy.

Yes, Kathy, Jonas Collins said he couldn't put mister Anderson's stories in a book, But they are in a book.

I have it.

I know, Kevy.

You see, he didn't really mean it.

He published the stories all the time, and he sold them in every country in the world.

But if the man said he wouldn't happy, stop asking so many questions and let father finish gee whiz.

All right?

Well, after Hans Christian Andersen left the home of his publisher.

He walked slowly through the streets of a denser He walked for hours, looking at the bright candles burning in all the windows, at the holly wreaths hanging on every door.

People nodded to him as he strolled by, smiled at him, and wished him a merry Christmas.

And then after he passed, they shook their heads sadly and sighed because of his loneliness.

You see, they too thought of him as a lonely man, childless and desolate.

And when he reached a narrow, crooked street on the edge of the city and climbed the long staircase that led to his room, it began to seem as if perhaps the people of a density were right.

It was a very simple room there, as a room can be.

There were no rugs on the floor, no pictures on the wall, But strangely, he didn't seem to mind.

A tiny fir tree stood green and shimmering in a corner, and a comfortable fire burned warm and bright in the fireplace.

Hams Christian hummed a cheerful song as he bustled about the room, and then, moving slowly down the narrow street.

He heard the carrollers come.

Off HOSTI recy long.

Sleep, silence fall.

In my back street, shine.

Lasting long, no holds.

Fis a a may the to know O, Holy child of beth ha De sent to lastly fray.

Cast on sa maer the Borys.

Today be the Christmas says.

The great bad Tidings tale.

Who come tos for bivss a lody.

Ma, Oh come.

Wonderful.

That was wonderful, my friends.

A merry Christmas, Hans Christian, and a merry Christmas to you.

To all of you, May God's blessings be on you to the end of your days.

In you great joy and happiness.

Thank you, Hans Christian, and.

God go with you.

Oh, come joyful.

How can they say I am a lonely man.

What man can be lonely with friends such as these?

What man can be sad on a night such as this?

On every side goodwill and peace in every heart, love and kindness.

No, if ever I am sad, it is not on the eve of Christmas day.

Ah.

Finally they are here.

Come in, Come in my children, my children.

Oh, my children have come home to see their father.

And look at you.

What wonderful, wonderful children you are.

How are you room?

We've missed you, Father Hans, And I've missed you, Gerta, I've missed you all.

My little tin soldier, I'm a big tin soldier, Father Hans, you will always be my little tin soldier in the nightingale Karen with a little red shoes.

Hell, Father Hans and the snow queen.

How are your father Hans?

Look at him?

How my ugly duckling has grown?

Father Hans.

Big claws and little claws, thumb line, the shepherdess and the chimney sweep.

All of my children, I hear all of them.

I am the happiest father in all of Denmark, Father Hans.

From all of their story books, they have come from mercery shells all over the world, Father Hans, What a merry Christmas this shall be?

What a merry Christmas?

Indeed, Father Hans, tin soldier, why must you always interrupt?

I have a question, Father Hans, A very serious question I must ask.

So soon, tin Soldier.

I thought first my children would tell me of their adventures, of the things they have accomplished.

It has been a long time, you know.

All right, But we must have discipline, Father Hans.

They shall speak, but I shall be in command first.

Karen of the Red Shoes, report to Father Hans Well.

I brought warmth to the children of the world, Father Hans Good.

I taught them all of greed and the comfort of repentance.

I spread the gospel of love and the wisdom of faith.

You did well, my child, you did very well.

Be quiet, doc Thing, It is not your turn.

Gerda, you are next.

Report well.

I walked with children in their dreams and brought them happiness.

I taught them the beauty of devotion and the wisdom.

Of person.

Perse pers perseverance, perseverance, That's what I did.

You did wonderfully, my daughter, wonderfully well.

Dockling, be quiet.

It is still not your turn.

Snow Queen.

You may report, but be brief.

I kissed a thousand lips, Father Hans, and turned a thousand hearts into lumps of ice.

And Father Hans, I'm tired of being cruel and heartless.

Why can't I be kind like the others, Because, my snow Queen, you are vanity.

You teach your own lesson, you do good in your own way.

That is your fate.

Duckling, for the last time I did.

Wait, wait, let him speak, Tin Soldier.

He's so eager speak, my little duckling.

I see, well, you did very well, very well.

Indeed, I am proud of you now, Tin Soldier, Father Hans, I have a complaint.

Why do I have to have only one leg?

It is very inconvenient.

If I can spend all of my days in endless dancing, certainly you can stand around on one leg.

Stand around.

I fight a thousand battles every day.

I am the most valiant soldier of them all.

Valiant woo being gobbled up by a fish.

I suppose you call that?

Valiant?

Children?

Please, please, we must not quarrel.

Soon it will be midnight.

You must return to your homes.

But first I must give you your Christmas gift, the most wonderful gift I can bestow.

I give you all a new little sister, the match girl.

Welcome little sister.

Wello match girl, Father Hans.

Yes, Guda, Why doesn't she say something?

Can't she talk?

No, Gerda, I fear not.

But she carries with her a wonderful gift for the world, three matches which can bring wisdom and comfort to all mankind.

She strikes her first match.

So and to the eyes of man are revealed all the beauties of the earth, the whisper of wind and the leafy tree, a soft crown of light on an angry cloud, birds sarring through a clear blue sky, the surf as it pounds on a winding show all of these and many more.

Our match, girl brings to the world.

She strikes her second match, and in its light we find truth.

Here is the wisdom of man and his conscience.

Here is the hope of man and his sorrow.

Here is the power of man to build a world of righteousness and justice.

Here is peace for all mankind, if man will but accept it.

Then the third match the most important match of all, for it brings love.

Look carefully, my children, and see what it reveals.

Love of a man for a woman, of a woman for a man, love of a parent for a child, And the love which is taught to us by God, who is our heart, the love of man for one another.

Look again, and see how in this love there is no prejudice, How it holds no restrictive covenants of color or creed.

See how it glows in the hearts of man worshiping in the Church of their faith, whichever it may be, standing as equals in the sight of God.

These are the lessons our match girl would teach.

Now.

It is midnight, my children, it is Christmas Day, and there's work to be done.

Now go back to your storybooks, to your countless shelves throughout the world.

Teach the children of the worlds I have taught you.

Teach them beauty, teach them truth, and teach them that which alone will bring them into the sight of God.

Teach them love.

Twelve o'clock.

I didn't know what it was that late.

Well, Merry Christmas, everybody, Ah, no, kids up to bed.

Yes, but the tree looks fine.

Well, of course I knew that all the time.

Good Night, father, and thank you.

You're welcome, Betty.

Daddy.

The duck was cute.

I think you're cute too.

Good Night, good night, Kathy.

Dear Jim.

Yes, Margaret, it's a wonderful story, beautiful story.

It makes me want to cry.

Oh, I have a better idea.

I'll take my first Christmas present a kiss.

Merry Christmas, Jim, Merry Christmas, my love to you, to me, to every family in every country in all the world, A very merry Christmas.

And may God bless us all.

To Father Anderson's Christmas wish.

The makers of post wheetmeal would like to add their greeting in this holiday season.

May Christmas bring the most in happiness to you and yours.

Father Knows Best was transcribed in Hollywood and written by Ed James.

Join us again next week when we'll be back with Father Knows Best, starring Robert Young as Jim Anderson, with Roy Barge and the Maxwell House Orchestra and yours truly, Bill Forman.

So until next Thursday night, for myself and for the makers of Maxwell House Coffee, let me wish you again, Marry, Marry, Merry Christmas indeed, and the happiest of holiday seasons.

Here Jack Webb and Dragnett later at screen directors on NBC.

Well, now, isn't that a tale that will warm the cockles of your heart?

I've always wondered what heart cockles are.

I've never had that explained to me.

But they say that a tale like that will warm the cockles of your heart.

So I hope it did.

And whether or not Hans Christian Anderson is related to the Andersons of Springfield, I do not know.

Maybe they'll tell us later on.

Please send your questions and comments to host at Classiccomedy otr dot com.

Until next time.

In the words of Carrie Fisher, I don't think Christmas is necessarily about things.

It's about being good to one another.