Carl Grady Golf Instructor

I remember what I told you. A car.

Please, Mrs. Spence. I could remember better if you called me Harry. If you don't mind the golf swing, you did come to my studio to get golf instruction? Yes, but that was before I made you honey.

When you came here, I saw your husband. That was enough for me. Now let's concentrate on your swing, shall we? Oh dear. Fred wants more. Alright, how was that? Terrible, you looked up. I think I could do it better if you stood in back of me and sort of guided my arm.

All right, Mrs. Benson. Harriet, honey. Let's try to swing. Mm-hmm. Left arm straight. Take it back like this. And look, Carl, who wants to swing a golf club? What? I want you, honey. Come on, Carl, you're human.

Break down a little bit. Mm-hmm. You see? Didn't hurt a bit, did it? Mrs. Benson, we've got to cut this out. We can't see you. Well, hello, John. Hello, Mr. Benson. Hi, Harriet. Hi. How's the instruction coming?

Fine. Fine. Yeah, it looked pretty good. When did you come in, darling? Yes. What do you mean when? I mean, just a second or just about a minute ago. What difference does it make? Oh, Mr. Benson, I can see how it could make a lot of difference to all three of us.

And now I'll do Dick Palmer as Boston Blackie. Enemy to those who make him an enemy. Friend to those who have no friend. Take it, take it. Don't be calling up with those stupid questions.

And don't call me a gal until you get that new list of colleges. Goodbye. Kind of vendor-sills if I got working for me. Well, kind of you want, Benson. Don't you get cute, Gordon. I've got enough on my mind.