The happy music and conversation in the background was oblivious to the painful desperation of one man. He sat alone at the bar. He raised his hands to his anguished and weary face. Tears filled his eyes. He bowed his head and with a whispering intensity, struggled through a simple, heartfelt prayer. “Dear Father in heaven. I’m not a praying man, but if you’re up there and you can hear me, show me the way. I’m at the end of my rope. Show me the way God.”

It was improbable. The plot itself was bizarre. Was it creative or hair-brained? Intriguing or misleading? Realistic or fatalistic? Hopeful or desperate? The critics panned it. They said it was too dark. Especially for Christmas.

This year is its 75th anniversary.

It is the story of a good and decent man who was always helping others - deferring his own dreams - until the day he needed help. Not knowing where to turn, in desperation, on Christmas Eve, he attempted suicide for the life insurance.