301229 - New Year's Story

 

Recording status:  recorded; in circulation

As the year 1930 came to its waning, final days, Empire Builders went on the air with a radio play with New Year’s Eve as its focus. On December 29, the Seattle Times newspaper reported a significant schedule change for arguably the most popular radio program on the air at that time, Amos ‘n Andy. They also commented on the scheduled Empire Builders show.

 

 

FANS WILL HEAR AMOS ‘N’ ANDY EARLIER TONIGHT

They Are Due Over KOMO at 8 o’clock From Now On;

Empire Builders Include Seattle in Playlet

The other night about 8:30 o'clock, everything was peaceful and quiet in the home of a King County Superior Court judge. The family was grouped about the fireplace. The judge was puffing away at his cigar.

All of a sudden, he bounded out of his chair – and he’s a big man – his watch in his hand.

“Great guns,” he cried while all the family began running in every direction, wondering what was the matter. “We’ve missed Amos ‘n’ Andy.”

They switched on the radio. The last bars of “The Perfect Song” dying away – “Amos ‘n’ Andy bid you all good night.” It was over.

The judge’s evening was ruined. Life was a shallow husk.

Anyone else who feels that way about the two blackface fellows will have to remember one thing tonight. This is the night Amos ‘n’ Andy change their radio time. They will be on the air at 8 o'clock instead of 8:30. KOMO will carry their drolleries at that hour, 8 o'clock, every evening from now on, due to a shakeup in network schedules.

Apropos of the season and whatnot, the Empire Builders will present a New Year’s playlet tonight, but that’s not all. That’s not half. The story will have its beginning in the East and it will reach its finale in Seattle with sirens and whistles and fanfare – especially fanfare – and dial KOMO at 7:30 o'clock tonight to see what it’s like.

 

It’s possible that the new timing of Amos ‘n’ Andy, immediately following Empire Builders, may have helped boost the audience numbers for the GN’s program. Seems like it couldn’t have hurt.

With a typical opening of music and railroad sound effects, the broadcast opened and Ted Pearson came to the microphone. He announced that the evening’s play would tell the tale of a forlorn young man in Chicago whose wife had left him inexplicably. A chance encounter with our pal, the Old Timer, helped set things on a path of redemption.

The young man was Jim Baird, played by Don Ameche. Baird and the Old Timer ended up sharing the same bench at a quiet spot in Chicago’s Lincoln Park. Before long, Jim was baring his soul and sharing his woes with the ever-sympathetic Old Timer.

It seems Baird and his wife Louise (played by Lucille Husting) were not long married before “Lou” began making bank withdrawals that Jim did not approve of – particularly since it seemed she was trying to be surreptitious about it. Baird also mentioned that he and his wife were both singers. His wife had been signing at clubs in Chicago, and had tried to cajole him into going professional, too.

Then Jim Baird told the Old Timer about a very odd episode that seemed to precipitate his wife’s sudden disappearance. He explained the conflict over the money, and then shared his strange tale.

OLD TIMER:  No explanations at all, eh?

JIM:                No; none at all. One night we had quite a row about it. Ended up all right, and she promised she wouldn’t draw out any more money. Well. Next day I happened to come home early, and she was talking to a fellow on the back porch. Kind of a tough-looking fellow. They were arguing over money. Lou said she wouldn’t give him another cent, and he was just getting abusive, when I showed up and booted him down the steps. Lou wouldn’t say a thing, and I got mad and walked out.

OLD TIMER:  Looks like blackmail.

Baird was at a complete loss as to what his wife might have been blackmailed for. He thought he had handled the stranger-at-the-back-door incident, but when he returned home from work the next day, Louise was gone. No note. No trace of her. Just gone.

Three months later, quite out of the blue, a postcard from Lou arrived from Seattle in the mail. Her message said: “Nothing but tears for us together. Is it better alone, Jimmy? I’m singing in a club here – getting along. I wish every good thing for you, dear – including a lapse of memory for our unfortunate venture.  Louise.”

 

Lucille Husting and Don Ameche in a 1930 press photo made by
Theatrical Chicago, a noted professional publicity firm of the day.
Author's collection

The press photo depicted above was distributed by Harold Sims of the Great Northern Railway with the attached press release copy:
When the Empire Builders playlets have a romantic theme - which is not infrequently - the role of the lovers is taken by Lucille Husting and Don Ameche. In addition to their dramatic talent, they have strong leanings towards music. Miss Husting is an accomplished pianist, while Don Ameche has a rich, pleasing voice. He is an exceedingly modest young man and makes no claims to being a radio singer, but his occasional singing on the Great Northern's programs has agreeably surprised his radio friends.

The Old Timer revealed the happy news that he was headed out from Chicago the next day to Seattle – on the Empire Builder (naturally). The wise old man then challenged Jim Baird to travel out to Seattle with him to look for Louise. You kind of have to wonder why Baird hadn’t already thought of this. He’d been packing around the postcard from Louise for at least six months. I guess he was just waiting for a sympathetic old man to sit down by him on a park bench and convince him to get off his arse and find his wife. Baird finally came to the realization that he could be spared from the office:

JIM:    Hey! Wait a minute! By gosh! Harry Davis could do my work for two weeks, and I didn’t have a vacation this summer … sure they’ll let me go! By golly, I’ll go with you, Mr. – Mr. – say, I don’t even know your name!

OLD TIMER:  (CHUCKLE)  Old Timer, folks call me.

JIM:    Old Timer!  Well, I’ll be darned! Lou and I used to listen to you on the radio every week! Say, I’m sure glad to meet you!

So, the two of them trundled off the next day, on what was without a doubt one of the most pleasant journeys ever known to mankind – an overland trip on the Great Northern Railway’s crack train, the Empire Builder.

The interlude dealing with the train trip fell in between an all-out detailed radio advertisement showcasing all the wonderful amenities of the train, and just skipping the onboard stuff altogether. There was a brief scene at Chicago’s Union Station when Jim boarded the train and met up with the Old Timer, and then another brief segue upon the train’s arrival in Seattle. True to form for this 1930 radio show, the porter was named “Jackson” and possessed a stereotypical dialect and manner of speech. It would be interesting to determine if the actor playing Jackson was actually a Black man, or just another White man doing a “blackface” role like Correll and Gosden on the Amos ‘n’ Andy show that immediately followed this half-hour. Here is the interchange at the Empire Builder’s western destination:

OLD TIMER:  Good morning, Jackson. Just about in, aren’t we?

PORTER:        Yas, suh, Mistuh Ol’ Timuh. Jes’ ‘bout seb’m mo’ minnits, an we’s in th’ King Street Dee-po. Yas suh, thank y’, suh.

OLD TIMER:  Well, I’ll be glad to get back. Good morning, Jim. How you feel?

JIM:                Swell, Old Timer. Gee, I sort of hate to get off the train. It’s been a wonderful trip. I’ll sure be happy to find Louise and take her back with me. That scenery we’ve been seeing’s just plain honeymoon scenery!

Whoooooaaa there, big fella! Better cool your jets until you actually find her, and see if she’s inclined to have anything to do with you. There’s still a lotta ‘splainin’ to do.

Jim and the Old Timer got off the train and were met by an acquaintance of the Old Timer’s, John Carroll. The Old Timer had wired ahead to his friend to see if the talent booking agent might be able to help Jim Baird locate his wife. Carroll had not yet made any headway, but the trio agreed to head off to the hotel and plot a course of action to track down Louise.

The next scene found the three men huddled at a table of the Club Sovereign, a swanky Seattle nightclub. It was New Year’s Eve, and Jim was rapidly running out of time before he had to get back to Chicago. There still had been no sign of Louise, but John and the Old Timer seemed to have something up their sleeves.

CARROLL:     Well, Jim, how do you like the Club Sovereign? Got anything to beat this in Chicago?

JIM:                Nope, guess not.

OLD TIMER:  Come on, Jim, this is New Year’s Eve. We’re not licked yet.

JIM:                I’m licked.

CARROLL:     (SOTTO)  He’ll perk up, Old Timer, when the show starts.  (CHUCKLES)

OLD TIMER:  (SOTTO)  I’ll bet.  (CHUCKLES)  Just wait, Jim, you’ve got another day yet.

The show was set to begin in only a few minutes when John Carroll and the Old Timer decided it was time to let Jim in on a little secret.

OLD TIMER:  Now, pay attention. John and I’ve been lookin’ round, and why do you think we brought you here?

JIM:                Celebrate New Year’s, I guess.

OLD TIMER:  Guess again. Boy, there’s a girl here singing under the name of Blue Kennedy.

JIM:                Well. I don’t know her.

OLD TIMER:  (CHUCKLES)  That so? We-ell – she signed her contract “Lou Baird”!

JIM:                (SHOUTS)  What! Where is she? Where is she? Old Timer! Carroll! Where is she?

CARROLL:     Now sit down, Jim, sit down. You’ll see her soon enough. Here! The show’s starting. Pay attention.

The nightclub’s Master of Ceremonies came to the microphone and announced the first act, a trio called the “Three Visiting Firemen.” Jim was notably underwhelmed. His anxiety about waiting to find Lou was steaming him up to a boiling point.

JIM:                I think they’re terrible. Where’s Lou?

OLD TIMER:  Hold on, boy. I think she’s next. Listen.

               (ROLL OF DRUM CRASH OF CYMBALS ETC.)

MC:                 (OFF)  And now, my friends, if you are my friends, and I hope not, you’re going to get a treat. No darling, not an acrobat. A treat, I said. Guess who – whom. That’s right. Got your hankies out, girls and boys. The little girl with the cry-baby voice – the queen of all torch singers – what’s that, lady? No, it isn’t Libby Holman. It’s Seattle’s sweetheart. Ladies and escorts, I present … Miss – Blue – Kennedy!

               (LOUD AND SUSTAINED APPLUASE)

JIM:                My God, it is Lou! Lou, dear! Lou!

CARROLL:     Pipe down, Jim, you don’t want to bust up the show.

Louise Baird (a.k.a., “Blue Kennedy”) came onstage and performed a song called “Lonesome Lover.” How appropriate.

 

Poor, poor Jimmie. The Lonesome Lover himself. He just couldn’t contain himself any longer. Even the Old Timer couldn’t hold him back.

JIM:                Let me go, Old Timer! It’s Lou! Oh, Lou, dear!

OLD TIMER:  Now you set still, boy – hey! Hey! Stop! Come back here, Jim!

(JIM RUNS ACROSS THE FLOOR CALLING TO LOU. LOU’S SINGING COMES UP FULL. JIM’S VOICE IN LOW, PLEADING ACCENTS)

JIM:                Lou, dear!  Louise …

(THE SONG FALTERS. LOUISE SAYS “JIMMY”! AND CONTINUES THE SONG)

JIM:                Darling, I’ve waited so long for you. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve been nearly crazy, dear! Listen to me, Lou! Listen, I say! I love you – I want you to come home with me. Darling! Look at me, dear! Listen – I love you, and I want you to come home!  Honey  -- etc., etc.

(THE SONG CONCLUDES. APPLAUSE. THE MICROPHONE APPARENTLY GOES FROM TABLE TO TABLE PICKING UP THE PATRONS’ COMMENTS)

 

(TABLE SOUNDS UP)

What followed was a series of comments from other patrons, all kind of wondering what the heck was going on between these two. Some thought Jim was drunk. Someone else accused him of being a “stage door Johnny with his cues mixed up.” One man surmised it was all part of the show, until a savvy woman with him noticed Lou’s genuine blushing. The Old Timer and his friend, John Carroll, remained at their table and watched Jim return, looking downcast.

OLD TIMER:  First time I ever seen a man do his courtin’ in front of a mob like this …

CARROLL:     Hope he gets away with it.

OLD TIMER:  He’s comin’ back to the table. Well, Jimmy?

JIM:                I don’t know, Old Timer. She told me to go away – and then I kept on talking to her – and – I don’t know. She said I could come back to her dressing room.

CARROLL:     Well, who’s standin’ on your foot?

JIM:                Seems so darn hopeless.

CARROLL:     Go on, sap. Go on. What did you come ‘way out here to Seattle for, anyway?

I’m with this guy Carroll. You begin to wonder what Louise ever saw in him in the first place. Sounds like a real milquetoast. Still, he summoned up whatever courage he had clattering around in his hollow constitution and went back to confront Lou in her dressing room. There were a couple minutes of awkward dithering about “what’s the use” and “don’t you have any feelings for me?” and other such drivel. Finally, Jim got around to pinning down Louise to get the whole story out of her.

JIM:                Well, what in the world was it all about, anyway?

LOU:               It’s just as hard to tell you now as it was then, Jimmy.  (PAUSE)  That tramp you kicked out … the one I’d been giving money to … was my half-brother.

JIM:                Your half-brother!

LOU:               Yes. He was a kind of black sheep. He’d been in prison, and when he got out he needed money. So he came to me. He said he’d tell you all about it if I didn’t give him money. We were so happy, and I – I – I didn’t want to give it all up. And then I – I guess I busted things up anyway by not telling you.

JIM:                Lou, dear – you might have known I’d understand.

LOU:               (SOBBING)  I was afraid, dear …

JIM:                Honey, I don’t care if you’ve got a million brothers, and every last one of ‘em in jail! I love you – not your brothers and things! What became of this guy?

LOU:               He – he – was shot in a holdup the day before I left. I was afraid you’d find out – and you were so angry at me – oh, Jim – (SOBS)

JIM:                Well, that’s that. And I love you. Will you come back with me tomorrow – New Year’s Day – and start the new year off right with me again?

Wow, Lou… sounds like you’re just as much of a head-case as Jimbo there. Please tell me that you two never have children. Well, anyhow – the show must go on. Lou was alerted that she was on again in a few minutes. She excused herself to change into another outfit for the clock-strikes-midnight New Year’s Eve performance. This left Jim out in the corridor with Lou’s assistant, a girl named Hannah. She told Jim that Lou was very much in love with him. Sounds a lot like grade school note-passing. Jim pressed Hannah to find out what song Lou was preparing to perform. It was “Body and Soul,” and it just so happened that Jim was well familiar with the song.

JIM:    “Body an’ Soul”. By God, I know that! I’m going out there and sing it with her.  (LAUGHS)  You bet. We’ll give these people a show – Lou’s farewell appearance. By golly, I will.

And by golly he did. Right before midnight. Guess who got himself a kiss? Louise decided she was ready to head home with Jim, body and soul.

 

 

 

Another press photo from Theatrical Chicago, likely intended to be published in conjunction with this night's broadcast.
We can imagine Lucille Husting and Don Ameche are rehearsing "Body and Soul."
Author's collection

 

 

 

Until next week, keep those dials tuned to Empire Builders!

 

 

301222 - Attar of Roses

 

Recording status:  recorded; in circulation

This is one of the few episodes of Empire Builders that the Great Northern Railway paid to record and which is still in circulation. It is, however, one of the broadcasts that is badly misrepresented nearly everywhere it can be found. This broadcast was not called “Columbia River,” despite the numerous sites that refer to the program as such. Many sites also note that one of the featured performers was “Betty White,” but they have concluded erroneously that it was an eight or nine year old Betty Marion White (she of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Golden Girls, etc.).

 Betty Marion White DID NOT appear on Empire Builders. EVER.

The actress heard on Empire Builders by the name of Betty White was Betty Reynolds White, born Elizabeth Myrtle Reynolds in 1904. A petite 4 feet 11 inches tall, Betty White was 26-years-old, married, had one infant son already and another well on the way, and she specialized in children’s voices.

“Attar of Roses,” the correct title of this broadcast of Empire Builders, refers to a fragrant oil made from roses. The story does indeed have the Columbia River as a prominent feature of its locale, but using the name of the river as the title of the broadcast must have been someone’s innocent attempt to apply a name to the show based solely on listening to the only circulating copy of it. Great Northern Railway corporate records, and newspaper articles of the day, consistently name this program “Attar of Roses.”

This photo shows script writer W.O. Cooper and Betty Reynolds White inspecting the large track machine contraption used for making sound effects for trains. The image appeared in the February, 1931, issue of "What's On the Air." The accompanying caption contained two glaring mistakes. They used Betty White's maiden name, and they misstated the name of the 12/22/30 broadcast. Here's what was said: "Betty Reynolds, child actress of the Empire Builders, is fascinated by the device used in the studio to reproduce the sound of Great Northern trains. We don't believe any listener has forgotten Betty's work as the invalid child in the Empire Builders' Christmas story, "Altar of Roses." We certainly hope that story will be repeated next Christmas season." Sadly, the Empire Builders series did not last that long.

A press release for this program was used to craft a notice in the Seattle Times newspaper the day of the broadcast. Here is how the information appeared in the paper, complete with the writer's unsentimental and rather snarky take on the story:

The press release for tonight’s “Empire Builders” program on KOMO at 7:30 o'clock, says it will be all about a sharp-tongued millionaire who had chilblains of the heart and never knew it until he met little crippled Annie. Old Sharp Tongue and Annie are both inmates in a hospital in Portland, it goes on to say. Moreover, there will be twists at the heart strings. But withal, the press notice declares, a happy air will pervade the thing. Clap hands.

 
The story opened with the Old Timer chatting with a woman onboard the Empire Builder train – a common plot vehicle to set the stage for the venerable pioneer to launch into a tale of yesteryear and to weave some not-so-subtle advertising copy into the show on behalf of our sponsor. In the radio play, it was revealed that the train was passing a location where a serpentine roadway could be seen. The lady observed that it looked like a harrowing road to try to negotiate. The Old Timer agreed, and mentioned he knew of one time when a driver nearly died on that curve. He hinted at a happy ending however, and thus launched into his tale.

The recorded radio broadcast clearly departs somewhat from the copy of the program’s continuity that I’ve located. I suspect it was common to edit the script right up to the last minute, and I’m sure there were times the actors momentarily lost their places and ad libbed, although I think a good many of them also made an effort to memorize their parts. Most of them were veteran stage actors, so it would seem they would be accustomed to preparing themselves to carry out the performance, with or without a written copy of the continuity.

The Old Timer lit up his pipe before starting to tell his story, although his dialog about it in the continuity is slightly different than the recording. Among other differences, the woman he talks to identified herself in the script as “Marian Monahan, escaped from New York.” In the audio, she is instead “Virginia Monahan, escaped from New York.” I suppose that could have been a nod to Empire Builders alumna Virginia Gardiner, but more likely they just preferred the sound of it.

This is from the continuity:

OLD TIMER:  I’d better begin at the right place.

LADY:            Oh, tell me about it, Old Timer ---- if I may call you that?

OLD TIMER:  Sure --- everybody does. I like it. Well, this is about Stephen Burroughs --- a man who’s known throughout the state of Oregon. He was a bachelor, a sort of fidgety cuss, an’ he’s got more money than you could shake a stick at … just a minute …  (STRIKES MATCH;  LIGHTS PIPE)

LADY:            Must you stop now, Old Timer --- Oh. I see. I didn’t notice you were lighting your pipe.

OLD TIMER:  There’s two things I can’t get along without, Miss --- my pipe and my dog January.

LADY:            (LAUGHING)  I’m sorry.

OLD TIMER:  (PUFFING)  Well, it was late at night, and Stephen Burroughs was driving his car around that same curve, tearing along like --- like a wild Indian, when all of a sudden ……

(FADE IN MUSIC.  IT FADES OUT TO ROAR OF SPEEDING AUTO APPROACHING … COMES UP, PASSES, FADES …. REPEAT …. ON THIRD FADE-IN, SHRIEK OF BRAKES … BIG CRASH … SEVERAL MINOR CRASHES WITH SOUND OF BREAKING GLASS, AS THOUGH CAR WERE ROLLING DOWN EMBANKMENT …. BRIEF SILENCE, THEN MUSIC)

Apparently it wasn’t enough for the sound effects crew to simply bust some glass and slam some boards and chunks of metal together to simulate the car crash. No, they got their hands on an entire car chassis and hauled it up to the roof of the 20-story Merchandise Mart, where a couple of sound effects men proceeded to beat the snot out of it when it came time for the crash. Perhaps the questionable quality of the recording is at least partly to blame, but to my ear, the sound of the car crash is underwhelming, and fails to convey what the continuity was calling for. This may also be something to chalk up to the vagaries of practicing in advance with pleasing results and then attempting to replicate an earlier success while on the air live. Any number of variances might have spoiled the intended effect.

 

 

Two sound effects technicians of the Empire Builders radio program, posing for the photographer. This is undoubtedly a recreation of the action taken to produce the sound effect of a crashing car for this night's broadcast of the show.
Photo from the Library of Congress collection
(identified as "Underwood & Underwood", but most likely a Theatrical Chicago photo)

 

After the sound effects of the big crash, the radio story shifted location to a hospital in Portland where the hapless driver, Stephen Burroughs (abbreviated as “BURR” in the script), was just coming to. Burroughs was presented as a wealthy and rather self-important businessman. After a big kerfuffle about his needing to get to a meeting and wanting to get his secretary on the phone, Burroughs passed out again. Then with a short musical bridge to indicate the passage of time, the radio audience found Burroughs had been wheeled to the appropriately named Sun Room for a respite. Burroughs decided the Sun Room was not for him, and he promptly demanded (quite rudely) that the nurse return him to his room immediately. She responded by tagging his arm with a sedative. It wasn’t long before Burroughs was nodding off again.

The next time he came around, he drowsily caught the sound of someone moaning, but shrugged it off in his half-awake stupor as something he had been dreaming. But there it was again … louder and more insistent. No mistaking it this time, there was a little girl across the room in great pain and discomfort.

(ANOTHER MOAN)

BURR:            I wasn’t dreaming that time! Must have been that kid over there … no one else here.

ANNE:            Oh!  Oh!

BURR:            What’s the matter?   (gruffly)   Where’s somebody?   (impatiently)

(ANOTHER MOAN)

BURR:            (Sound of wheel chair)   Now, now --- What’s the matter?

ANNE:            Hold my hand --- tight!   Oh!  Oh!

BURR:            It’s hell to suffer like that! Where’s a nurse? Where’s somebody?  (shouts Hey!)  Here’s a nurse --- (relieved)

MISS GREY:  Here, Anne, take this --- She’ll be better in a minute. Let go of the man’s hand, Anne.

BURR:            Oh, that’s all right.   (Gruffly)

MISS GREY:  You see, if she can grip someone’s hand – she seems to be able to stand it better – the pain.

BURR:            Is she like this often?

MISS GREY:  No – not so often any more, but it’s bad while it lasts. There – she’s better now. Come, Anne!

ANNE:            (In faint voice)  Thank you, Mister.

 

 

 

 

This is Betty White. Betty Reynolds White.
Not Betty Marion White.
Two different women, born more than 15 years apart. Just sayin'.

This is the earliest recording I know of that captured the voice of Betty Reynolds White. She did indeed possess a great talent for portraying a child. Her performance was quite convincing. Here’s an audio sample:

 

 

The character of little Anne Hyland mentioned that her parents died when she was only two years old. In real life, Betty White endured a similar burden. Her mother died when she was about seven; her father when she was about 14.

The broadcast concluded with the revelation that Burroughs had purchased a house up on a hill, visible from the hospital, and that he was going to adopt little Anne and get her settled in to that new home. Even Nurse Grey was enlisted to work at the home to take care of Anne as she continued to recover. And of course, they all lived happily ever after.

Up on the roof and going nowhere
Harvey Hays (the Old Timer) attempts to assist Lucille Husting (Virginia Monahan) and Bernardine Flynn (Nurse Grey)
into the derelict car chassis that was smashed up further for the night's big car crash scene.
Press photo (likely by Theatrical Chicago). Author's collection

Stephen Burroughs was played by Betty White’s husband in real life, Bob White. Other performers identified for this broadcast are: Harvey Hays as the ubiquitous Old Timer; Lucille Husting as Virginia Monahan; and Bernardine Flynn as Nurse Grey. Josef Koester again led the on-air orchestra. Ted Pearson, the announcer, made no mention of Don Ameche. Perhaps he just wasn't needed on this broadcast.

 

 

Until next time, keep those dials tuned to Empire Builders!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

301215 - A Montana Christmas

Recording Status:   recorded; not located.

Virginia Gardiner, actress and author, Empire Builders.
Studio portrait.               Author's collection

This blog entry will be less a review of the December 15, 1930, episode of Empire Builders and more a tribute to actress Virginia Gardiner (1906-1968). Great Northern Railway accounting records indicate this broadcast was recorded, but no copy of the recording has surfaced. To date I have not located a continuity for the program. I don’t even have a complete press release. But here’s what I do know . . .

Virginia Gardiner was paid $100 for her manuscript titled “Long George.” This was the story that became the December 15^th radio play, “A Montana Christmas.” This is substantiated by accounting records of the Great Northern Railway’s Advertising and Publicity Department.  

Virginia Gardiner at Glacier National Park, August, 1930.
Image from collection of the Minnesota Historical Society

I’ve located just a few brief snippets of press write-ups about the episode (courtesy of radio historian R.R. King – thanks again, Bob!). Here’s how the show was announced in newspapers of the day:

 

Los Angeles Times

... KECA at 7:30 p.m. Empire Builders with the old-timer. "A Montana Christmas," how a colorful western character gave his life to bring Christmas cheer to children in a remote Montana schoolhouse. Veteran actors. Koestner's orchestra. ...

 

Christian Science Monitor

... Story written by Virginia Gardiner who played leads in the "Empire Builders" series last year...

 

Dallas Morning News

"A Montana Christmas," written by Virginia Gardiner, radio's stellar actress, will be presented ... Miss Gardiner will enact a leading role. ...

 

I’ve reported previously that Virginia Gardiner was an actress on Empire Builders, taking the lead female role on the majority of the broadcasts through the first two seasons. I’ve also reported that although she was dropped from the radio program’s cast when the production moved from New York City to Chicago, Gardiner traveled out to Glacier National Park in the summer of 1930 for the express purpose of gathering material with which to write stories for future Empire Builders continuities. Gardiner wrote this night’s story, “A Montana Christmas,” after being suitably inspired on that summer sojourn.

 

"Long George" Francis, cattleman, horse wrangler, rodeo performer and organizer.
And likely inspiration for this night's broadcast.
National Cowboy Hall of Fame, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Long George Francis (1874-1920)

Making assumptions is, at best, risky business. In this situation, the facts at hand are these:

·       Virginia Gardiner was contracted to travel to Montana (specifically Glacier National Park, at least for a portion of if not the entirety of her trip) in the summer of 1930 to gather ideas and material for writing plays to be used on Empire Builders.

·       Gardiner was paid for a manuscript which was developed into a radio play and it was performed as the Empire Builders broadcast of December 15, 1930.

·       She titled her story “Long George.”

·       The radio broadcast was advertised in the newspapers of the day as “A Montana Christmas.”

It turns out that there really was a man in Montana history – a rather colorful man at that – who went by the nickname “Long George.” He died somewhat mysteriously on Christmas Eve in 1920. I believe Virginia Gardiner’s radio play which aired on this date in 1930 was a story based on the real life story of George Mortimer “Long George” Francis.

Long George was a man who stood out in virtually every crowd. He had a slender frame and topped out at 6 feet 6 inches tall in his bare feet. Wearing his typical cowboy boots and a high Stetson hat, he must have cut a mighty imposing figure. Long George made a living working with livestock. His dealings in cattle and horses was reputed to have strayed outside the law at times. He was active in rodeos, credited with being involved in organizing such events as Havre’s Great Northern Stampede. He competed in rodeos as well, including the notable Pendleton Roundup in northeast Oregon. At the conclusion of a steer roping competition, his horse was trained to set one hoof on the steer’s ribs and take a bow. Long George was charged, tried, and found guilty of horse stealing, but was a no-show at his own sentencing. He hid out in the Bear Paw Mountains instead.

His demise occurred in a cloud of questions. It was Christmas Eve, 1920, and the temperature was an unforgiving 22 below. It was said he was on his way to spend Christmas with his fiancée, a school teacher who lived in a rural area several miles outside Havre.  His car careened off an icy road and into the Milk River. He survived the initial wreck, but he suffered head wounds, and his leg was badly injured with a compound fracture. He fashioned a splint and then tried to drag himself to the nearest farmhouse, about a mile away. But the blood loss from his wounds was too great. It was said that he took his own life by stabbing himself in the jugular vein, rather than be found alive, but defenseless, by coyotes or wolves. There are some who say his death came at the hand of another, but it seems the story ends there, either way.

I hope to locate a continuity for this broadcast someday, but in the meantime, it seems likely that Virginia Gardiner learned the story of Long George Francis, and then crafted a work of fiction based on certain facts of his life, and wrapped his story up with a bow of selfless heroism.

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Although very limited, the few newspaper snippets we have regarding this story shed an interesting light on the subject. First, it sounds like this was a story that truly tugged at the heart-strings, in that it apparently told the tale of how a “colorful western character” (a cowboy, perhaps) gave his life to brighten the lives of school kids in a remote part of Montana (which doesn’t do much to narrow down the locale – a lot of Montana was and still is “remote”).

Another intriguing newspaper comment was the Dallas Morning News stating that Virginia Gardiner “will enact a leading role.” Gardiner effectively parted ways with Empire Builders – at least in the role of actress – when the radio program’s production moved from New York City to Chicago over the summer hiatus of 1930. It would be fascinating to find out if she did indeed come back on air for a guest appearance in Chicago, if that is even what the newspaper meant by “enact.”

Woman of many talents

Great Northern Railway press release depicting Virginia Gardiner in the arms of "the Old Timer," Harvey Hays.
Minnesota Historical Society collection

Virginia Gardiner was a singularly successful radio actress in those early days of the medium. Unlike most radio performers of the day, she did not cut her teeth on stage acting. In fact, her formal training prior to appearing on radio was as a singer. She studied voice with Marcella Sembrich (1858-1935), at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. Despite developing her talent as a dramatic soprano, Gardiner elected to pursue opportunities in radio. She did offer at her first auditions that she could sing, but she quickly found her niche as an actress. Empire Builders did not feature singing on the first two seasons, including song only as a transitional filler or for atmosphere. Still, Gardiner discovered her acting chops early in the process. In an issue of “Radio Review” magazine from January, 1930 (while she was still performing on Empire Builders), Virginia Gardiner was singled out as one of the stellar talents in radio:

… there are only a few really outstanding air personalities, who can be numbered almost on anyone's two hands. There are only a few who have really succeeded in carving their names in the ether, so to speak. Harvey Hays, Pedro de Cordoba, Frank Moulan, Charles "Webster, Arthur Allen, Alfred Shirley, Loren Raker, Helene Handin, Marcella Shields, Florence Malone and Virginia Gardiner head the list.

It’s kind of ironic that this same article went on to extol the virtue of the stage acting résumés of these performers as justification for their radio success. Gardiner had virtually no acting experience prior to performing on radio.

I’m reluctant to list the Empire Builders scripts that are attributed to Virginia Gardiner for fear that I might omit something. Nevertheless, here are two that I feel sure she was involved with writing:

·       301215   A Montana Christmas

·       310420   Scenes of Montana Campfires (featuring Jack Brown, Glacier Guide)

Illustration of Virginia Gardiner by artist Clayton Braun (clearly using the studio portrait shown above in this blog as a guide). It was reported shortly after this image appeared in the newspapers that Braun presented Gardiner with the drawing.

Just as Empire Builders was wrapping up its second season on the air, a radio enthusiasts’ magazine called “What’s On the Air” published its June, 1930, issue in which it highlighted Virginia Gardiner (whose tenure as an actress with Empire Builders was just ending). They said that in addition to Empire Builders, Gardiner could be heard on “‘Mystery House,’ ‘Station KUKU’ and ‘The Moxie Hostess’ programs, and at frequent intervals in other NBC dramatic programs.” Just as Empire Builders was coming back on the air from the Chicago NBC studios in September, 1930, Virginia Gardiner began appearing on a new radio program called “Death Valley Days.” In 1965, Gardiner published a book titled “Monty of Montego.”

The Matter of the Collier’s Hour Broadcasts (Sponsored by Collier’s Magazine)

In the aforementioned 1930 magazine article, there is no mention of Collier’s Hour in the list of programs in which Gardiner appeared. I have other sources that indicate Gardiner was in fact featured on Collier’s Hour later on in 1931 or so, but I don’t know for sure when she first began to appear on that program. In any event, Ralph Budd apparently tuned in Collier’s Hour one Sunday evening in the spring of 1929 and heard what he felt was a familiar voice. On May 17, 1929, Budd wrote to his vice-president, William Kenney, advising that he had noticed “a female voice on our radio programs which sounds precisely like the voice of the actress who takes the principal female part in Collier’s Hour.” Budd explained his concern that the voice on Empire Builders was typically portraying a role concerning a historical vignette, whereas the Collier’s Hour dramas typically featured contemporary fiction. It troubled him that listeners would easily recognize the voice of the actress, and it detracted from the effect of the historical stories enacted on Empire Builders.

Less than a week later, Kenney replied by letter to Budd that he had taken the matter up with NBC’s Nile Trammell, and was advised that “the actress would be changed.”

This is a bit of a mystery to me. Was the actress changed on Collier’s Hour, on Empire Builders, or on both? Are they talking about Virginia Gardiner? Probably not, since Gardiner remained on Empire Builders through the second season of the program (Fall, 1929 – Spring, 1930). And although the record clearly indicates Gardiner performed on Collier’s Hour, it seems she was not on that show until after leaving Empire Builders. Unless she was bumped from Collier’s in 1929, only to return after she left Empire Builders. I know that Lucille Husting appeared on Collier’s Hour, but this was probably just briefly, and occurred prior to the move to Chicago and Husting’s joining the Empire Builders regular cast. So if it wasn’t Gardiner, and it wasn’t Husting, who the heck was it?? If you have any insights or documented proof to clear this up, please let me know.

 

Press photo of Gardiner and Hays.
Author's collection

 

The day Virginia Gardiner’s son disappeared

Virginia Gardiner Durstine and her husband Roy in a composite wire photo released in connection with the story of  their missing son.
Author's collection

Virginia Gardiner married advertising executive and author Roy Sarles Durstine (1886-1962) on August 30, 1932. Roy had two daughters from a previous marriage. Virginia and Roy had a son whom they named Roy, Jr. In 1952, in his freshman year at Harvard, junior seems to have had a tough time. One day he left notes with a few friends that hinted at what might be his demise, and he up and disappeared. It made the news. His father raced to Boston to try to locate his son. A few days later, the young man surfaced. He had succumbed to a bout of depression and (apparently) the pressures of transitioning into the life of a college student, and went off to lay low with some friends outside the city. Despite the serious concern that he might do himself in, things seem to have been sorted out for the best.
  

Until next week, keep those dials tuned to Empire Builders!