[Eerie music]
(Narrator) You're tra vel/ng through another dimension.
A dimension not onl y of sightand sound, but of mind.
A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are tha t of ima Gina t/on.
Tha t's the signpost up ahead. Your next stop, the twilight zone.
I can tell you, gentlemen, the most idiotic thing occurred in the market today.
Just idiotic. I've been doing a little dabbling in the syndicate.
It has some oil holdings in the western part of Texas.
Jack brewer handles our New York operation for us.
Anyway, he came on the floor today. I just happened to be there.
This was about 10:00, 10:30 this morning.
He has a sheaf of papers in his hand he waves to me.
Now, I can assure you if there is anybody that I don't want to see
before noon on any given day, it is Jack brewer.
He's a raucous sort, a little crude, nouveau riche. You know the type.
Charlie, old man, you don't mind if I sit here, do you, boy?
Well, well, where was I? Oh, yes, Jack brewer.
He, uh, walks across the floor to me and with an intense voice,
a voioeabsolutel y shak/ng with intensity.
He sidles up to me and he whispers,
he's got the most miserable habit of whispering sotto voce,
so that everyone in the world can hear him. Anyway, he says to me,
"Jim, I gotta sorape up a quarter of a mill/on,
and you're the only one that can handle it for me." This is brewer speaking to me.
A quarter of a mill/on dollars! And I am supposed to sorape it up for him.
I mean, iam supposed to sorape it up as though it were some kind of res/due
that could be literally scooped up off a floor!
To makea long story short, he arr/ves a t the bus/est time of the morning,
absolutel y the bus/est time, and he sa ys to me,
"Jim, I've got an opportunity to corner...
I just got your letter.
Sh! Our young friend is discoursing again.
I looked a little askance at him
because the boor wouldn't know a corner of the market from a railroad roundhouse!
The only thing worse than his talking so much is his transparency.
In about 30 seconds, Alfred,
he will very nonchalantly ask for a loan from anybody within earshot.
As a matter of fact, just last week he asked me
for the loan of a quarter of a million dollars.
The letter you sent me is the most incredible thing I have ever read.
Archie, we're old friends. I must tell you that...
My communication to you, Alfred, was not as an old friend, but as my lawyer.
Is the wager I have in mind legal?
No wager is legal in this state.
Well, is it against the law, then? Anything criminal in it?
I don't see anything criminal in it, no.
Alfred, that is exactly what I wanted to hear from you.
[Rings bell, man continues talking]
Franklin, would you take this note across the room
to young Mr. Tennyson over there.
You tell him it's from me. Ask him to read it immediately.
Why, yes, sir.
(Narrator) The note tha t this man ls carrying across a club room
is in the form of a proposed wager,
but it's the kind of wager that comes without precedent.
It stands alone in the annals of bet making
as the strangest game of chance ever offered by one man to another.
In just a moment, we'll see the terms of the wager
and what young Mr. Tennyson does about it.
And in the process, we'll witness all parties spin a wheel of chance
in a very bizarre casino called the twilight zone.
Do you know what icould do with a quarter of a million dollars in a deal like this?
Well, I can tell you this. I could treble it, quadruple it.
With an initial investment of a quarter of a mill/on dollars, I could take this plastics...
Excuse me, Mr. Tennyson. A note for you from colonel Taylor.
Just put it down somewhere, Franklin.
Excuse me, Mr. Tennyson, his instructions are that you read it immediately.
I beg your pardon?
Acts like he had seen a ghost.
This is-this is absolute nonsense.
What about it, Tennyson?
Is this some kind of a joke? I mean, really, colonel, if it is a joke,
it suggests a sense of humor quite beyond me.
It is nota joke. You know me reasonably well, Tennyson.
You know tha t humor is perhaps the least devel oped aspect of my character.
I am quite serious.
Would you mind terribly, Tennyson,
if I acquainted the members with my proposition?
Well, that's your business, colonel, quite your business.
But I do believe that you will make yourself highly suspect.
I'll take that risk.
I propose a wager to Mr. Tennyson here.
The wager is to take the following form. I will bet him $500,000.
[Men murmur]
That he cannot remain silent for one year.
The wager carries with it the following conditions:
He will be placed in a room for observation
by me or by anyone of us, at our discretion.
He will be furnished with anything he desires by way of diversion.
But he will not be able to speak one single word for 12 months.
Not one single word.
He will make his wants known
in writing, not by voice.
What about it, Tennyson?
Well, may I ask what is the reason for this wager?
What I'm about to say might horrify the average person,
but to someone as insensitive as you it probably won't mean a thing.
I dislike you intensely, Tennyson.
It goes much beyond the ordinary distaste
I feel for someone without breeding,
without principles, without manners.
Your voice has become intolerable.
I sit here each night and the sound of it makes me wince!
I cannot ask you to resign from the club. I haven't got that right.
So it occurred to me that I'd be willing to offer a large sum of money
just to have some quiet.
You see, Tennyson, you could not poss/bl y remain silent for a year.
It's not in your na ture.
You're a shallow, talkative, empty-headed ne'er-do-well.
And to remain silent would destroy you.
So what/assume will happen, you will perhaps withstand the pressures
for three or four weeks, maybe a couple of months
and then you will succumb. That's, again, your nature.
In the meantime, iwill derive,
oh, several months of exquisite silence.
[Chucang]
Well, Tennyson,
does it appeal to your sporting blood?
Oddly enough, it does appeal to my sporting blood.
Now, that, too, is patently ridiculous. There's nothing sporting about you, Tennyson.
I happen to know that you're delivering your nightly financial folderol
because you're in desperate straits.
You've run through your inheritance,
your debts are insurmountable,
and you'd do practically anything for money.
Except, perhaps, to remain silent for a year.
If this were Europe, colonel, or the company were a bit more sophisticated,
I should be forced to invite you out for the things you've said to me.
The ground rules here, however, are just a little bit different.
I can either ignore you or call your bluff.
Well, I choose to do the latter. I accept your wager.
Uh, just a few questions.
Where am I to be incarcerated?
Well, in the old game room downstairs. It isn't being used.
With the permission of the board of governors, I'll have some work done on it.
You'll be in a glass-enclosed living room and bedroom.
There will be microphones placed all around the room
which you are to leave untouched.
Your every movement will be recorded and so will your voice
when you decide to give up.
You will perm/t me or anyone of us to observe you a tany time.
When, uh, is this supposed to start?
Well, the room could be prepared by tomorrow night.
I've made all the necessary inquiries.
You could enter anytime after 10:00 P.M.
And so, at 10:00 P.M., June 3,1962
you may leave the room.
At that time I will ha ve a check for $500,000 waiting for you,
assuming, of course, that the impossible happens
and you're able to remain silent for those 12 months.
I'll be back tomorrow night.
Uh, colonel, I would like to have that check certified
and placed on deposit in my name.
A photostat of it available and witnessed by every member of this club.
That might be the usual procedure in a fish market or a pawn shop.
But not in this club and not with me.
My credit is well-known so is my honor, as every member here will vouch for.
There will be no check placed on deposit.
You'll have to take my word.
I see.
It's my courage against your credit.
Well, a year from tomorrow night both can be proved.
Franklin, get me my coat.
Yes, sir.
Tennyson, I've known colonel Taylor for a long time.
This is not a capricious man.
I warn you, he is in deadly earnest.
Do you know my wife, sir? Her name is Doris.
She's a lovely thing. Frail, beautiful, fragile.
Like a cameo brooch, but her tastes run to unfragile things.
Sizable baubles to sizable price tags.
She shops at Tiffany's the way other women entera supermarket.
My miserable misfortune is that I happen to be very much in love with her.
I am also desperate in need of money.
I may sound melodramatic, but it happens to be true.
Any time now, Mr. Tennyson. Any time.
[Footsteps approach]
Oh, Mr. Tennyson's dinner, hm?
Yes, sir.
Is he eating well, appetite good?
Not very much up to a week ago, sir, but he's eating very well now.
Well, tha t's nice. And I hope he sta ys in perfect heal th.
I wouldn't want this experience to damage him in any way.
Quite the contrary, sir. He seems in excellent spirits.
And it's nine weeks now, sir. Nine weeks today that he's been in there.
Nine weeks?
Well, tha t's reall y quite incredible.
I ga ve him four weeks poss/bl y, to hold out, sixat the outs/de.
Nine weeks!
There's a little bit more gristle there than I gave him credit for.
Will there be anything else, sir?
Oh, hello, Alfred. Franklin told me you were waiting.
Only to pose this question to you.
Very succinct, Archie, very brief. How long?
How long what?
How long are you gonna keep on with this-this prolonged practical joke?
Well, not much longer. Thank you, Franklin.
You should see our boy down there.
Four and a half months, not a sound out of him. It's incredible.
That fop won't take it for another month. This I'll guarantee you.
For your sake, I hope that's the case.
My sake?
You have the money, Archie?
I find that insulting, Alfred.
I'm sorry if it is.
I think he's gonna beat you, Archie.
I think that boy down there is gonna remain silent for the entire year.
And I think you're gonna owe him $500,000.
I just hope you've got it.
You can hear me, Tennyson, can't you?
I've been giving this considerable thought.
You fulfilled your part of the bargain admirably.
As a matter of fact, you have completely surprised me, Tennyson.
But the fact is I feel the whole thing has gone too far.
It's becoming inhuman.
I'm prepared to offer you $1,000 dollars
and you may walk out today.
Right this moment, if you choose.
It's going to be an early spring this year, Tennyson.
You ought to see it.
In that time of the year when a young man's fancy lightly turns...
Well, you know that better than I do.
And young ladies, too.
For example your wife.
She must be lonely for you, Tennyson.
Desperately lonely.
As a matter of fact, she-she has been seen with other young men.
It's odd she hasn't paid you a visit, isn't it?
Don't you think it's odd?
I happen to know you've written her many notes requesting a visit.
She hasn't responded, even to the notes.
You may lose your wife, Tennyson.
I hope you're full ya ware of that.
While you stay here behind glass,
the very reason for all your agony ma y be sl/pp/ng a way from you.
Why don't you leave, Tennyson? Why don't you leave right now?
It still might be possible to save your marriage.
[Voice echoing] Tenn yson, I sa w your wife again.
She was getting into a little European sports car.
There was a, you know, a nice young fellow driving it.
Your wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife.
Toda y is apr/I fools' da y, Tennyson.
You remember April fools' day. I think it was named for you,
for only a fool would stay in there as long as you have
knowing precisely what's happening on the outside.
Your wife, I mean, Tennyson, your wife, wife, wife.
Tennyson, this nonsense must cease!
You've got to get out of there. You really do.
Why, I could tell you some stories about your wife.
How about it, Tennyson? I might see my way clear to giving you $5,000.
That would pay off a lot of your debts.
And a little bracelet for your wife.
Something to compensa te for the months of lonel/ness.
How about it, Tennyson? $5, 000?
$6,000, Tennyson.
You're an idiot, you know that, Tennyson?
You're going out of your mind in there. I know you are.
You're ready to crawl up the walls.
Listen, tenn yson, you cannot stay in there one more hour.
Notano ther half hour.
(Man) I wouldn't ha ve bel/eved it.
A year in tha t room and not one word out of him.
Two minutes is all the poor dev/I has got now. Two more minutes.
Lookatarch/e. Not the face of a happy man, would you sa y?
A rather monumental occasion, isn't it, Archie?
Twelve months ago to the moment you destroyed yourself
much as I told you you would.
Your little reminders are gratuitous, Alfred.
Besides, it's not yet 10:00.
Whether it is or whether it isn't,
the destruction I'm talking about has already taken place.
There have been ugly rumors, Archie,
things you've done to him.
Like little asides innuendos, suggestions,
gossip about his wife.
You place such a premium on honor, Archie,
but you haven't acted like an honorable man.
Please, don't go to the trouble of denying it. I'm sure much of it is true.
But the ugly affair has proved two things hasn't it, Archie?
That that boy down there is stronger than you gave him credit for,
and you are considerably weaker.
How could he have done it? How could he have done it?
It's impossible!
[Clock bell rings ten times]
You, uh, have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Tennyson.
In a rather compromising situation.
You force me into a position of
rather distasteful candor.
The truth is I am a fraud.
I ha ven't any money.
I offered you $1,000. Then $5, 000.
I would have had to go out into the street to beg even that amount,
let alone a half a million dollars.
It's true that I have pride,
bearing, taste, exceptional breeding,
but/ lost most of mymoney some years ago.
Now you have forced me to uncover the situation,
proving, Mr. Tennyson, proving that of the two of us,
you are by far the more substantial.
And I will naturally resign. I will not ask you to suffer my presence any longer.
Tennyson, you can talk, your time is up.
You can talk, gurgle, sing, chortle, anything you want.
(Man) Wha t's he writing? Wha t is he doing?
Why doesn't he talk?
What does it say, Archie?
What did he write?
Why didn't he say something?
"I knew I would not be able to keep my part of the bargain,
so one year ago I had the nerves to my vocal chords severed."
[Men gasp]
(Narrator) Mr. Jam/e tenn yson, who almost won a bet,
but who discovered somewhat bela tedl y tha t gambling can be a most unproduct/ve pursuit
even with loaded dice, marked cards,
or, as in his case, some severed vocal chords.
For somewhere beyond him, a wheel was turned
and his number came up "black 13."
If you don't bel/eve it, ask the croup/er,
the very spec/al one who handles roulette
in the twilight zone.
Rod serl/ng, creator of the twilight zone
will tell you about next week's storyafter this word from our al terna te sponsor.
And now, Mr. Serl/ng.
Next week on the twilightzoneyou'll sit in this courtroom
and you'll watch what is apparently the standard, everyday turning
of the wheels of justice. But because this is the twilight zone
don't be fooled by the readily apparent, for when the judge enters,
the jury rises, the bailiff calls out the case, all of this is the opening salvo
to one of our wildest journeys, yet. Our program is called shadow play
and it's written by Mr. Charles beaumont. It comes well recommended.
[Eerie music]
Hi, this is ed Sullivan, rem/nd/ng you that the colga te-palmolive company
also brings you star-studded entertainment on our show
on most of these same sta t/ons.