301124 - Bellingham or Broadway

Recording status:  recorded; not located

The Great Northern Railway paid to have this broadcast recorded in 1930, but to date, no copy of this recording is known to exist. I have a nearly-complete continuity however. In some contemporary write-ups about this broadcast, the newspapers simply referred to this night’s offering as a “Thanksgiving Story.” However, some sources title the story as “Bellingham or Broadway.” The author of the story was Dan Markell, about whom I have written previously. It appears he chose to try to protect his rights to some extent regarding the play: in December he filed with the Library of Congress for copyright of the story, under the title “Bellingham vs. Broadway.” I cannot account for the slight variation in the title, but that may have been something Markell did to distinguish his filing from the airing of the story on Empire Builders.

The program opened with the usual orchestral arrangement, which was accompanied by the crescendo of an arriving train, the bell ringing for about five to ten seconds through the music and the train noises. Then announcer Ted Pearson set the stage for the play in a brief conversation with the Old Timer:

ANNOUNCER:    There’s a happy throng on board the Empire Builder tonight. For it’s Thanksgiving time, and folks are homeward bound. Homeward bound! That’s why everybody’s happy! Families going back to spend Thanksgiving on the old farm with grand-dad … and grand-mother – bless her dear old heart – bet she’s baking those spicy, golden pumpkin pies or fixing pop-corn balls right now … sons and daughters – grandchildren – going home for the holidays. Yes, everybody’s brimming over with Thanksgiving spirit tonight on the Empire Builder … that is … well … everybody except maybe Sally, the little six-year-old traveling all alone up in one of those forward Pullmans … and perhaps that vaudeville couple – with Alex. It doesn’t look right now like much Thanksgiving cheer for them … but … we’ll see! And here comes Old Timer too. Hello, Old Timer. You almost got left.

OLD TIMER:        Well, consarn my catamounts, if I’d missed the Empire Builder … say … I’d have broken a date with the biggest turkey in the state of Washington!

ANNOUNCER:    Washington! You’re going quite a ways for your Thanksgiving dinner, aren’t you, Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        W-e-l-l! I’d go a heap farther for a dinner like the one that’ll be waiting for me out in Bellingham. Got some friends out there ‘t asked me a month ago, and –

The Old Timer continued to chat with Ted Pearson about the big feast, detailing some of the delicacies he anticipated eating: Olympia oyster dressing, cranberries from Clatsop County in Oregon, and fresh green vegetables. Pearson reacted with great surprise at the thought of enjoying fresh vegetables in the Pacific Northwest in November, but the Old Timer assured him that was par for the course in that region. The conversation was interrupted by the conductor’s shouts of “All Aboard!” Sound effects then transitioned to a scene onboard the train. At this point, the listeners were introduced to the vaudeville couple mentioned by Pearson. Their names were Frank and Norma Drury. As they breathlessly clambered aboard the departing train, Frank beseeched the porter to be careful with their large brown suitcase:

FRANK:                 Be very careful, porter.

PORTER:              Yes suh.

FRANK:                 Say porter, do you hear anything sort of stirring around in that suit-case?

PORTER:              Stuhhing aroun’? No suh … no suh!

FRANK:                 Well listen! Listen now.

(PAUSE)

PORTER:              No suh, nothin’ stuhhin’ aroun’.

FRANK:                 Well listen again.

PORTER:              Yes suh.

(TURKEY CALL, SLIGHTLY MUFFLED – GOBBLE – GOBBLE – GOBBLE)

PORTER:              (agitated)  Goo’ness me, mistah. You all hain’t got a live tukkey in this yere suit-case, has you?

Frank continued to torment the porter with his little prank.

FRANK:                 (chuckling)  There! I was afraid you’d shake him up. Now we’ll have a terrible time getting him quiet again.

PORTER:              (disturbed)  Don’ tell me he am liable to raise a ruckus on this yere Empiah Buildah?

FRANK:                 I’m afraid so. Sometimes it’s simply dreadful the way he carries on.

PORTER:              Well, he done shut up now, mistah.

FRANK:                 That’s good. Now be very careful, please.

PORTER:              (low)  Yes-s-s-s suh!

(TURKEY GOBBLES EXCITEDLY)

PORTER:              (groaning)  Foh hebbens sakes, mistah. Do you all think its faiah to keep a tukkey stuffed up like this in yo’ suitcase?

FRANK:                 We can’t turn him loose here in the car, can we?

The beleaguered porter was getting more agitated by the moment. Frank just kept pouring it on.

PORTER:              Oh, no suh! No-o-o! But ah mean, don’ you think mebby the baggage kyah would …

(TURKEY GOBBLES FRANTICALLY)

FRANK:                 No, I’m afraid the baggage car wouldn’t do at all.  You see, this is an awfully aristocratic turkey … but he likes to ride aristocratic trains – he hates baggage cars.

PORTER:              (moans)  Oh-h-h mistah.  (Do he hate dining kyahs too?)

(DUCK CALL – QUACK – QUACK – QUACK)

PORTER:              Hebbens mistah, hab you done got moah buhds in heah?

(OWL CALL  -- Whoooooooooooo!  … Whoooooooooooo!)

PORTER:              G-g-gosh, mistah! Ah you suah this suit-case ain’ spooked?

FRANK:                 (lightly) No. There’s just a few birds in it – and the least little jiggle disturbs them you know …

PORTER:              Oh han’, stop yo’ jigglin’. Please, han’ quit shakin’ so.

(GOOSE CALL – H – O – N – K)

PORTER:              Ow-w-e-e-e !

FRANK:                 Tsk! Tsk! You almost dropped it then, porter.

PORTER:              (plaintive)  Please, mistah! Couldn’ you all tote youah poultry menagerie in sumppun besides this yere suitcase? Lawsy!

FRANK:                 (laughing)  Well!

It was only at this point that Norma finally weighed in and shamed Frank into ending his joke on the unassuming porter. Which he did. Eventually. But not quite yet.

FRANK:                 Alright, Norma . . . Listen porter, there aren’t any birds in the suit-case at all. Not a single one. In fact the only thing in that suit-case is … is Alex.

(TRAIN WHISTLE OFF)

PORTER:              Alex?

FRANK:                 Yes. Alex is our little boy.

PORTER:              Foh goo’ness sakes, mistah. Don’ tell me you got a lil boy shut up in heah. Why . . .

FRANK:                 Nothing else but, porter. If you don’t believe it … listen.

ALEX:                    (slightly muffled)  Wah!  Wah!  Let – me – out – of – here! Let – me – out – of – here!  Wah.

PORTER:              Whew! Moses! This am drefful. Don’ you know it ain’ lawful to pen a lil chile up in an ol’ heavy suit-case lak this. Ah’m goin’ to take proceduahs raht now to give this boy some aih. Yes suh. Ah aim to oblige the passengers and all, but this pohtah ain’ totin’ chilluns aroun’ in no baggage. No suh!

Apparently, the cheap entertainment playing out at the porter’s expense was just too much temptation for even Norma to resist. One would think this was a threadbare joke between Frank and Norma, but evidently they both continued to get their jollies out of it.

NORMA:              (laughing)  Please don’t be so upset, porter. Certainly Alex should have some air.

(TRAIN WHISTLE OFF)

ALEX:                    An – a – drink – of – wat – ter.  Wah!  Wan – na – drink – of – wat – ter.

PORTER:              Yessa lil boy. Ah’ll get it jus’ as soon as ah get you out of this suit-case.

ALEX:                    Wah – wah!  – Hur – ry!

PORTER:              Boy, ah’s fumblin’ as fas’ as ah can.

FRANK:                 (chuckling)  Oh, he’s all right.

PORTER:              Well we ain’ goin’ to let no chile smothah, mistah!

NORMA:              (with mock concern)  But you must turn the suit-case over, porter. You’ve got our little boy upside down.

As the frazzled porter finally opened the suitcase, it all slowly came clear to him.

PORTER:              Ah have? Oh, the pore lil fellow … Now!

NORMA:              There. That’s right. Now you can open it, porter.

PORTER:              Yessum.  (pauses)  Oooooooooooo! . . .  Well foah hevvens sakes! Is you a natchul chile oah isn’t you?

Norma finally let the poor guy off the hook and explained that Alex was the couple’s ventriloquist dummy, and that she and Frank were vaudeville performers. A general discussion then ensued about how much the porter liked children, real or otherwise, good or bad (“co’s ah like the good ones bes’!”). The porter continued:

PORTER:              Yessum. Ah lake rich ones … poah ones … an’ … ev’y kind. Un hmmmmm! Ah sho do! Thea’s the sweetes’ lil gal on this heah Empiah Buildah today – she’s a awphun – po’ lil kid – an she’s –

Alex the dummy began to fuss about wanting a pillow, which sent the porter scurrying off. A musical bridge and the appropriate sound effects took the radio listeners to another scene aboard the Empire Builder, and a later conversation between Frank and Norma. The two talked wistfully about holidays – especially Thanksgiving – spent on the road as performers, never being able to relax and enjoy the season with family and friends. Norma exclaimed she was getting very weary of constantly traveling about on the vaudeville circuit. Frank tried to console her, and to lift her spirits.

FRANK:                 (softly)  Do you dear?  (pause)  Yes, I know it’s been tough at times. (brightening ) But things are getting better. You bet they are! Things are getting brighter for us every day. Why . . . Remember back when we only played the water-tanks? Those one night stands?

NORMA:              (wearily)  That hasn’t been so long ago.

FRANK:                 And then when we got booked regular?

NORMA:              I know . . . On the five-a-day.

FRANK:                 Well, that was a step ahead, wasn’t it? And now we’re only doing three shows a day. Why . . . Norma . . . pretty soon we’ll be hitting the big time . . . Broadway . . . The Palace.

NORMA:              (tenderly)  Oh Frank, you dear eternal optimist. Don’t you know you’ve told me that for . . . years?

FRANK:                 I know. But we’ll make it . . . if we keep on. We’ll get our names on Broadway . . . yet.

 



Publicity still with Don Ameche in "Henry, Sweet Henry"
at the Palace Theater on Broadway, 1967.
Museum of the City of New York collection

Here’s a bit of irony for you. Don Ameche played Frank the ventriloquist and vaudevillian on this broadcast of Empire Builders. In 1967, Don Ameche made it to The Palace Theater on Broadway, starring in “Henry, Sweet Henry.” And while Ameche went on to have a long career in cinema, his radio work is well known for the Chase and Sanborn Hour, on which he used to banter with Edgar Bergen and his ventriloquist figure, Charlie McCarthy. You can’t make this stuff up.

 

 

Charlie McCarthy, Edgar Bergen, and Don Ameche.
Getty Images collection

The next sequence in the radio playlet followed another bridge of train sounds and transitional music. The porter was back, and he was trying to entertain young Sally, an orphan that he had tried to tell Frank and Norma about earlier in the story. Notes in the continuity express how the porter was to attempt bird sounds:

(The porter’s attempts to imitate fowls should obviously be rather clumsy. The natural voice and not traps should be used in this.)

 

PORTER:              Gubble – gubble – gubble.  (Disgustedly)  Dawg-gone it, them gubbles don’t come raht. Maybe they do bettah nex’ tam . . . Gubble . . . Miss Sally, don’ look at me so. Keep yo’ eyes on yo’ little satchel theah. Now! . . . Gubble . . . Gubble . . . Gub . . . No, that ain’t it eithah!

SALLY:                  (child-like)  What’s it s’posed to be, Jackson?

PORTER:              You guess.

(pause)

SALLY:                  (brightly)  I know. A bear.

PORTER:              No’m. It ain’t a beah. It’s a buhd. Ah tol’ you these weh goin to all be buhds.

Jackson the porter and little Sally the orphan kept at this cute exchange for a few minutes, Jackson doing his darnedest to imitate bird sounds, and Sally earnestly guessing the wrong creature. It seems Markell, the author of the story, was somewhat influenced by the dialect typical of the very popular Amos ‘n Andy shows (“Ah’s regusted”) that were contemporary to the Empire Builders series:

PORTER:              But ah know a lot of othahs. Jus’ you watch that satchel and listen. (pause) Honk! . . . Honk!

SALLY:                  Automobile Horn!

PORTER:              (gloomily)  Mah goo’ness, you is undiscouragin’, Miss Sally. That’s a goose.

SALLY:                  Ummmmm!  A goose!  My you’re the goodest porter, Jackson.

PORTER:              Yessum. An’ heahs anothah . . .  Quock-Quock! . . . Quock-Quock-Quock! . . . Quock! . . .

Just then, a friendly fellow just happened to come upon Sally and Jackson.

OLD TIMER:        Hello! What’s all this quack-quacking business about, Jackson?

(TRAIN WHISTLE OFF)

PORTER:              Well if it isn’t Mistah Ol’ Timah! Howdy boss! Ah’s jus’ been practicing up my ventriloquizzem. You see this lil lady heah, Miss Sally, she . . .

(CROSSING BELL OFF)

Sally asked the Old Timer to sit and join them. The Old Timer naturally obliged.

OLD TIMER:        Thanks Sally. Now, Jackson, you can go on with your animal act.

PORTER:              Not animules, Mistah Ol’ Timah. Buhds! Buhds! You see that lil ol’ satchul theah. That’s Miss Sally’s. Now ah stan’ ovah heah and thro’ mah voice into that satchul – lake this . . . . Who-o-o-o!  Who-o-o-o!

OLD TIMER:        What!

PORTER:              (desperately)  It ain’t what, Mistah Ol’ Timah . . .  It am a Who-o-o!  Who-o-o!

OLD TIMER:        Well I think you’ll have to explain it to me out in the vestibule, Jackson.

The two men excused themselves from Sally and stepped into the vestibule to talk out of Sally’s earshot.

PORTER:              Ah ain’ don’ nothin’ wrong, have ah, Mistah Ol’ Timah?

OLD TIMER:        (chuckling)  Why bless your wooly old pate, Jackson, I should say not. It’s mighty fine of you to entertain the children on the Empire Builder.

(TRAIN WHISTLE OFF)

PORTER:              Thank you, Mistah Ol’ Timah. Most o’ us pohtahs likes chill’n . . . but ah ‘specially wan’ to be nice to pore lil Sally. She’s rahdin’ all alone . . . hain’t got nothin’ oah nobody.

OLD TIMER:        An orphan?

PORTER:              Yessa! Awphan chile. Goin to . . . I think she say it was the Bleekly Home foh Waifs.

Jackson and the Old Timer talked about Sally’s prospects, and the likelihood that she would not be enjoying much of a Thanksgiving feast at an orphanage. The Old Timer quickly concocted a plan to ensure that Sally, and any other young children riding on the Empire Builder, would enjoy a fine Thanksgiving turkey (albeit a little early).

PORTER:              Yo’ mean mebby she wouldn’t get no turkey, foh Thanksgiving!

OLD TIMER:        Turkey! You bet she’ll have turkey. We won’t take any chances on that, Jackson. She’ll have the biggest turkey in the state of Washington.

PORTER:              Lawsy! That’s gran’!

OLD TIMER:        And right here on the Empire Builder too. Course we’ll have to have it a bit ahead of Thanksgiving, but it will taste just as good.

(TRAIN WHISTLE OFF)

OLD TIMER:        I’ll wire ahead for this turkey and pick it up at Spokane. What other children besides Sally can we have at our pre-Thanksgiving dinner, Jackson?

PORTER:              Well suh, that ol’ resahvashum man soaht of discliminated agin’ me this trip. Mah cah am powahful sho’t of chillum. Fac’ is, Sally’s the only chile theah is on mah cah. Now that Hannible, he’s got sevehal.

The Old Timer talked to Jackson about rounding up a few other children to join Sally for the turkey feast, but they concluded that it might be hard to talk the other porters into ushering the children on their cars to the dining car for the little event. There was no particular reason for this conclusion, but I suppose Dan Markell needed an excuse for the Old Timer to invite the “youngster” suggested by Jackson: Alex.

OLD TIMER:        An who’s Alex?

PORTER:              Nobody. Jus’ a dummy chile.

OLD TIMER:        Dumb? A little dumb boy on this train, Jackson?

PORTER:              No, he ain’t dumb. Jus’ dummy. Belong to that ventriloquizzem couple ah’s study’in undah.

OLD TIMER:        Oh . . . I see! Sure!  We’ll invite him!

PORTER:              Yes suh!

OLD TIMER:        And I expect, Jackson, that you’d better invite that couple too. Otherwise you’re apt to find your dummy is dumb.

Soon the happy ensemble was gathered in the Old Timer’s stateroom for their own special pre-Thanksgiving feast. Sally was there, along with Frank and Norma and their little pal, Alex. Jackson was there too, “on loan” as their steward for the evening. They all dove into their delicious food, but Sally bemoaned the fact that Alex couldn’t enjoy any of the feast. That’s when Norma offered that Alex had a little song about the situation. Frank stopped eating long enough to ensure Alex could sing for little Sally.

ALEX:                    (little slow song)               It’s aw – fly hard,

                                                                           To be,

                                                                           A dum – my.

                                                                           ‘Cause a dum – my

                                                                           Don’t have

                                                                           An – ny tum – my.

SALLY:                  (claps her hands)  That’s dandy, Alex.

ALEX:                    (sings)                                  These good – days

                                                                           Are so

                                                                           Hum – yum – my

                                                                           I – just – have – to – cry.

                                                                           Would – you – like – to – know – why?

SALLY:                  (laughing)            Um hmmmm.

ALEX:                    (sings)                                  Cause a dum – my

                                                                           Don’t have

                                                                           A – ny tum – my.

(GENERAL LAUGHTER AND APPLUASE)

Sally soon began to yawn, and before long she nodded off.

NORMA:              Why, I believe Sally’s dropping off to sleep. Here darling. Just lay your head in my lap. There. That’s it. Oh, you adorable little dear. Look Frank.

FRANK:                 Isn’t she sweet? I didn’t know she was so tired.

While Jackson expressed his disappointment that Sally fell asleep before he could serve pumpkin pie, the Old Timer acknowledged how she had eaten with a healthy appetite. In fact, he speculated, she might not have had such a big meal in a long time. Norma asked the Old Timer if he really believed that.

OLD TIMER:        Well I wouldn’t be surprised. Didn’t you notice how pale she is? Or maybe you just noticed her smile and her sparkling eyes. She’s been a pretty sad little girl, alright, but she’s wrapped a sunbeam about her troubled orphan heart.

NORMA:              And her sunniness . . .  her happiness . . .  it’s so contagious . . . See . . . She’s made all of us so happy. . . Old Timer … Frank … Jackson … and me. Even Alex too, I think.

It wasn’t long at all that the characters in the story finally caught up to the listening audience, who must have been collectively shouting at their radios “adopt the little girl, for pete’s sake!”

FRANK:                 She’s just like an audience that’s with you … makes you glad … makes you want to do your turn just a little better.

NORMA:              Oh … Frank … Do you suppose … Don’t you suppose that with Sally for our audience and a little home of our own for a theater we could find happiness too … the real success we’ve been searching for?

Frank was still waffling over the glitz and glitter of their names in the marquee lights on Broadway, but Norma pulled back closer to terra firma. She pointed out that fame, even if they attained it, would be fleeting. Raising little Sally as their own would be so much more rewarding. Norma reminded Frank of the modest home they had once considered in northwest Washington.

FRANK:                 It’s still Bellingham, is it, dear?

NORMA:              Yes, still Bellingham. Don’t you remember that dear little cottage we talked about so many years ago when we thought success was on its way?

FRANK:                 I remember, Norma girl. Had tulips in the front yard, didn’t it?

Just then, someone approached with a telegram for Frank. And just when it seemed Norma had sorted everything out so nicely with Frank…

(SOUND OF OPENING TELEGRAM)

FRANK:                 Why … why …

NORMA:              Well read it … read it …

FRANK:                 It’s from Lohman … our booking agent … and Norma … Norma … he says …

NORMA:              Says what?

FRANK:                 Norma! We’re booked for the big time … 40 weeks … open in January at the Palace … We’ve done it, old girl, our dream’s come true. I knew we’d get there … knew it all the time. Hurray!

NORMA:              (disappointedly)  B-b-but, Frank … aren’t we?  … (reprovingly)  Now, look, you’ve woke Sally.

Oh, Frank, ya big lummox! Just look what you’ve done. As little Sally slowly got her bearings, she realized Jackson and the Old Timer were gone. This troubled her. And so it all comes down to this:

NORMA:              They had to leave, Sally.

SALLY:                  (pouting)  Everybody goes away and leaves Sally. Are you going away and leave Sally too?

NORMA:              Oh, darling …… Frank …… What must I tell her, Frank?

FRANK:                 We-l-l-l!  It’s Broadway and the Palace or . . .

NORMA:              Bellingham and a home.

And they all lived happily. Ever after. The end. Except for Ted Pearson and his closing announcement.

ANNOUNCER:    No wonder little Sally, and Frank and Norma, and the rest, enjoyed their Thanksgiving dinner! One of the greatest pleasures of a trip west or east on the Empire Builder is the famous Great Northern meals. Chicken pie … fresh green vegetables … fish fresh from Minnesota lakes … oysters and lobsters from the blue waters of Puget Sound … beef from the Montana plains that slide past your window … And what cooks those Great Northern boys are! The things they can do for a hungry man!

Pearson let on that all this talk of delicious food had him in a tizzy, and another voice came over the air to call Pearson back to finish his task. So before he could bail from the studio and get himself an enormous Thanksgiving feast, he let everyone know who had been featured in the broadcast. Too bad we don’t have the recording of this show to reveal the identity of the actor who portrayed Jackson.

ANNOUNCER:    Awww!  I’m hungry!  I can’t talk about food that way without my mouth watering so I stutter.

VOICE:                 Well, tell ‘em about tonight’s show, then.

ANNOUNCER:    That’s an idea. Harvey Hays was again featured as the Old Timer. Don Ameche played Frank; Bernadine Flynn played Norma. Sally, the little orphan, was played by Betty White; and Jackson the porter was _____________ .  (OFF)  Now can I eat?

(SPEEDING TRAIN EFFECT UP AND OUT)

This is Ted Pearson speaking. Empire Builders comes to you from the Chicago studios of the National Broadcasting Company.

 

Can’t say as I’d like to take a trip on a train on Thanksgiving just to partake of the meal they’d serve (no offense, Amtrak, but I suspect things have changed a bit since the Great Northern operated the Empire Builder). In lieu of that, however, I do believe I will gather with family, reflect on our good fortunes, and feast on all the yummy things my wife will be cooking up. Hoping you and yours likewise have a pleasant Thanksgiving.

 

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

 

301117 - The Jumping Off Place

 

 

Recording status:  NOT recorded

The Empire Builders story aired on this night (November 17, 1930) followed a familiar construct. Announcer Ted Pearson’s proclamation of “The Great Northern Railway presents ‘EMPIRE BUILDERS!” led to a transitional segment that was a staple of the series:

(SPEEDING TRAIN EFFECT UP FROM DISTANCE. FADE TO INTERIOR OF TRAIN EFFECTS, WHICH FADE TO BACKGROUND)

Also true to form was the opening scene, in which the Old Timer, riding aboard the Empire Builder train, encountered a young woman (Betty) who prompted him to tell her a tale to pass the time.

The Old Timer told Betty he had in mind a story about Hester Price, a show girl who decided to follow her true love west on a covered wagon. Just then, a general commotion was raised by others in the Great Northern’s passenger car as everyone started oohing and aahing over the stunning scenery. The train was passing through the Montana Rockies.

WOMAN:            (CALLS)  Oh Betty, you’re missing the most gorgeous views –

OLD TIMER:      That’s right, Miss, I was just settin’ to talk you right out of all this Glacier Park scenery!

BETTY:               Oh, it is wonderful!

OLD TIMER:      Now you just watch for those big signs along the track – the big arrows – an’ they’ll give you the names and height of ‘em.

BETTY:               Here’s one now – St. Nicholas – nine thousand, three hundred and eighty-five feet! Oh, that’s it – way over there. Isn’t it lovely?

It’s my understanding that the Great Northern Railway did in fact place a series of signs along the mainline through Marias Pass, just as the one described in this radio play. They were meant to help passengers on the Empire Builder and the Oriental Limited know which mountain peaks they were looking at as the train skirted the southern boundary of Glacier National Park. In fact, I feel certain that I’ve seen vintage photographs depicting one or more of those signs. Please let me know if you are familiar with any such photos, and especially where they can be found.

The Old Timer told Betty that the Great Northern was the only railroad in the country whose main line trains ran right past a national park.

BETTY:               Oh, I didn’t know that -

OLD TIMER:      Well, that’s a fact, but as I was a-saying the whole trip from Glacier Park to Spokane is one continual picture of mountains, forests, rivers, canyons, gorges. ‘Course there’s lots of nice scenery other places, but I was a-talkin’ about a whole day full of it.

The Old Timer told Betty he was off to the baggage car to check on his ol’ hound dog, January, but that he would come back to the observation car and tell her the story about Hester Price. Betty asked him one favor as he got up to leave…

 

BETTY:               I’ll be looking forward to it. Oh, will you please turn the radio up just a bit.

                             (BOTH LAUGH. MUSIC UP IN MIDDLE OF SELECTION)

ANNOUNCER:   (OVER RADIO)

                             You have just heard “________________________”, a composition by Joseph Koestner, and played for you by Mr. Koestner and his orchestra. This orchestra is the feature of the weekly radio programs of the Great Northern Railway. Mr. Koestner’s next number is  “_____________________”.

The continuity left blank the titles of the two songs to be represented, but drawing attention to Josef Koestner is just one more example of how Empire Builders almost playfully used self-reference to weave not-so-subtle reminders of the railroad into the flow of its broadcasts.

The Old Timer returned from checking in on his pooch, and he and Betty settled into a conversation in the observation car. The Old Timer began his story of Hester Price, the former show girl and the man she was engaged to.

OLD TIMER:      Well, this Hester Price that I was going to tell you about was a little bit of a girl just like you. She was engaged to a big hulkin’ six footer name of Phillip McBride. Hester had been a show girl – and Phil’s Mother and the rest of his folks thought that was just awful …

BETTY:               I should think they’d like her. She must have been amusing.

OLD TIMER:      (CHUCKLES)  Well some of the men folks did like Hester, but not many of the women. There was catty women in them days just the same as there is today. Well, Hester began getting it in the neck the very day the train started out from the big river for the far west …

A transitional bridge took the listeners to the rough and woolly country as a wagon train was inching its way west. The effects faded out the sound of the railroad train and replaced that with sounds of creaking wagons, dogs barking, and the clank of chains and cracking of whips. Hester appeared, singing “Oh Susanna” and playing a guitar. She came upon two pioneers named Jake and Martha. Neither of them seemed to think much of Hester.

JAKE:                  (INTERRUPTING)  Hester Price! Now where’d you come from I’d like to know? And what are you doing here?

MARTHA:          Shameless Hussy!

HESTER:             I came from home – and I’m going with Phil …. He doesn’t know it yet though.

Ah, those poor pioneers. How were they to get along with a shameless hussy in their midst? Martha piled it on, calling Hester a “man chaser.” Such harsh words. Jake and Martha seemed ready to run Hester off, telling her she ought to hike back to St. Louis before it was too late. Just then, an older man named Adam Lindsay strolled up. He came to Hester’s defense. Jake and Martha finally backed off. With Jake and Martha gone, Adam and Hester chatted a little. Hester let on that she doubted her usefulness to the wagon train, but Adam assured Hester that she really could be valuable to everyone on the trip, perhaps by singing and getting the pioneers to lighten up a little. Hester had pointed out they all looked like they were “marching to the gates of doom.” She seemed to brighten at Adam’s suggestion.

ADAM:               (CHUCKLES)  Good gal! Lordy. Here comes Phil now.

HESTER:             Now I’m in for it.

PHIL:                   (APPROACHING)  Hester! What in Sam Hill are you doing here?

After only a small amount of protesting, put on for show, Phil admitted he was happy that Hester was along, although he said he was not pleased that she would be facing all the dangers of the rest of the intrepid (if not somewhat morose) pioneers.

Time passed, and the wagon train kept rolling westward. One day, there was a great commotion as the train was abruptly halted. A half-dead man was found lying right in the middle of the trail. In his weakened condition, he told the others in a raspy voice that he had fallen ill, and had insisted the members of his wagon train leave him behind. He was tended to, and there was a quick discussion about how to help him and whose wagon he would ride in. Crusty Jake and Martha were none too charitable in their opinions. Jake coldly stated this was just one more mouth to feed. His idea: “Let’s leave him.” Kindly old Adam Lindsay offered to let the fellow ride in his wagon, and Hester immediately volunteered to help nurse the man back to health. Jake and Martha weren’t finished pouring it on.

JAKE:                         We’re not a-goin’ to have any sick man holdin’ up travel, boss …

MARTHA:                  We’ve already picked up one tramp, an’ that’s enough …

HESTER:                    Why, Martha –

MARTHA:                  Yes, I mean you, Hester Price!

LEADER:                   Come on, men we’re wasting time. Put this man in Adam’s wagon, and let’s be on our way! Look sharp, now!

Some unidentified transition music faded to interior train sounds, which brought the radio listeners back to the conversation between Betty and the Old Timer.

OLD TIMER:              Oh, I tell you, ma’am, they wasn’t all story-book heroes, them early pioneers. Some of ‘em was the grouchiest, most selfish humans you ever saw. But the leader of a wagon-train, his word was law. And so they picked up Hopkins, and little Hester took his welfare on her shoulders too. Well, she nursed him back to life, all right. (CROSSING BELL, OFF)  Then came weeks and weeks of hardship, and some o’ the weaker ones took sick, and some died.

BETTY:                      And Hester – how did she get along?

OLD TIMER:              Bless me, that girl was everywhere … nursin’ the sick … cookin’, sewin’, lookin’ after the children. Then that woman Martha, that was always fussin’ at the poor girl – she took sick, an’

(TRAIN EFFECTS OUT. TRANSITION MUSIC UP. FADE TO WAGON TRAIN EFFECTS, WHICH FADE TO BACKGROUND. MARTHA GROANS.)

I commented last week about the quality of sound effects on Empire Builders. Few of us alive were there to hear those radio broadcasts, and those who are must have been very, very young at the time. With the poor 3^rd and 4^th generation re-recordings of the broadcasts as our only existing reference, I tend to give a high degree of credence to the published critiques of those who heard the broadcasts live. And while we might still agree the sound effects accomplished in the early 1930s were a far cry from what could be accomplished today, it seems the Empire Builders broadcasts did impress their contemporary listeners to a significant degree. Here’s another blurb from the time, published in the Decatur Review on November 18, 1930 (the day after this broadcast): “Say what you will of the dramas of the Empire Builders, you'll have to admit that this program has the best imitation of a train heard on the air and that's something.”

Back to the story. It seems crotchety old Martha was now under the care of Hester too. She injured her back somehow, and was enduring terrific pain with every jostle and jolt of the wagon in which she was riding. As Hester offered up another hot towel for Martha to apply to her sore back, Martha finally thawed out her cold appraisal of “Hester the tramp.” Hester got Martha to settle into a restful sleep, and Hopkins (the half-dead guy they almost ran over with the wagon train) came to the wagon and summoned Hester outside. Hopkins then revealed he was head over heels with Hester, admitted that he knew she was engaged to Phil, and then lamely pleaded with Hester to reveal “… is there a chance for me?”

Uhhh…. no. Hopkins let Hester know how much he appreciated all her attention and care in bringing him back from near death. I think Sigmund Freud termed this sort of thing “transference”: the patient falls in love with the nurse. Hester humbly tried to shrug it off.

HESTER:        Oh, Hopkins, I didn’t do so much! I’d do that for – anybody.

HOPKINS:      Hester, I’ll never say anything to you again about this, but I wanted you to know that I love you – and – Oh, I guess I’m a damn fool – but you’ve done so much for me and Phil has, too – I’m sorry I said anything. Forget it, won’t you?

HESTER:        No, I won’t forget it, Hopkins. It’s awfully sweet of you – but, after all, I belong to Phil, you know.

The transition that followed this dialog also informed the listeners of the musical skills of one Hester Price.

(TRANSITION MUSIC UP, FADING TO FIDDLE ATTEMPTING TO PLAY. “ARKANSAS TRAVELER” STOPS AFTER TWO ATTEMPTS)

ADAM:           Dad gum it! I don’t know the rest of that tune!

HESTER:        Give up? All right. Give me the violin!

ADAM:           Violin! That’s a fiddle!

(“ARKANSAS TRAVELER” IS PLAYED VERY NICELY)

For your listening pleasure, if you have a mind, here’s a link to a circa 1929 recording of “Arkansas Traveler” performed on fiddle, guitar, and harmonica: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bm-fwrp35Js

By now the intrepid pioneers had been wagon-training west for over five months, and they were finally climbing the Cascade Mountains. In fact, they pretty much made it to the end of the trail, if not quite their destination.

(SOUND ALARM ON COWBELLS. OFF CALLS OF “WHOA”! ETC. WAGON TRAIN COMES TO A HALT)

PHIL:              Wonder what they’re stopping all of a sudden for this way.

MRS.               I guess we’ve reached the top. Must be something wrong as usual! Get out McBRIDE:     and see, Phil.

ADAM:           (OFF)  Holy thunders! She must be 200 foot down – sheer drop!

HOPKINS:      The women and children ain’t never goin’ to get down a cliff like that! There ain’t nothin’ to hold on to!

JAKE:             What in God’s name will we do with the wagons and oxen? We’ve got to go on!

HOPKINS:      Yes, we can’t turn back now with Winter so close and our supply runnin’ short.

HESTER:        Careful, Martha, don stand too close to the edge!

MARTHA:      Lord, have mercy on us! We’ve reached ‘The Jumpin’ Off Place!’

The term “jumping off place” typically suggests the point at which a journey is begun, although it can also refer to a final or extreme condition. Depending on your perspective, this juncture of the story may have served as either. A brief piece of transitional music brought the radio listeners back into the Empire Builder train.

OLD TIMER:  And there they was. Unable to budge an inch farther. Five months of heart breaking travel behind and this steep cliff making it impossible for them to go ahead. It would have taken weeks to cut their way round through the woods and with the snow beginning to fly and starvation staring them in the face it looked like they was at the end of their rope at last. And no mistake. The Jumping Off Place.

BETTY:          You don’t mean – Did they really jump off?

OLD TIMER:  (CHUCKLES)  Well now I’m coming to that. The leader called a meeting of all the men …

(TRAIN EFFECTS OUR TRANSITION MUSIC UP AND OUT)

The wagon train boss rounded up the men and they all got to figgerin’ and thinkin’ about what in blazes they could do. The broadcast shifted back to the Old Timer once more to fill in some chinks.

OLD TIMER:  Well they managed to cut a trail down the side of the cliff. A narrow one but wide enough to get the people and the oxen down and they killed some of the oxen to make ropes out of their hides. And then they took all their covered wagons to pieces and they was ready to let them down over the cliff but then came another hitch.

BETTY:          Those poor souls. What is it this time?

OLD TIMER:  Well about half way down the side of the cliff there was a sharp ledge sloping right out at the only place where they could let the ropes down. They couldn’t let anything down without the ledge cutting the rope. So there they were. Stumped again.

(TRAIN EFFECTS OUT. TRANSITION MUSIC UP. FADE TO BABBLE OF VOICES)

Then Adam came up with a solution.

ADAM:           That ledge down there is pretty slopey but we could let a man down on the rope and he might be able to stick there and then we could get a forked pole and hold the rope away from the sharp ledge while we let the loads down. You only have to push the rope out about six inches.

LEADER:       No good. The man couldn’t stand on that ledge.

ADAM:           But, boss, look! See them dwarf cedars down there? Just little bushes but a man could hold on them, that is, maybe he could.

LEADER:       I wouldn’t ask any man to take a chance like that.

The lovelorn Hopkins, who had volunteered to be left for dead by his earlier wagon train, and feeling that he didn’t have much left to live for anyway, stepped up to try to save the pioneers. Hopkins bravely lowered himself down the cliff in order to help guide the rope away from the sharp ledge, but a lone bush he was holding for support gave way, and he plummeted down the cliff to his death. Then Phil stepped up and claimed he could succeed where the first man failed. His mother, Mrs. McBride, had kittens. Fiancé Hester flipped out too. Others jumped into the assault on Phil’s judgment, the consensus being it was bad. Then the brave and formidable Hester rose once more to the occasion.

HESTER:        Give me the rope.

PHIL:              What are you going to do?

HESTER:        I’m the one that’s going down.

PHIL:              Oh, Hester I won’t let you.

HESTER:        I can do it. I know I can. Listen folks it’s crazy for a big six foot man to try to go down there but I can do it. I only weigh 90 pounds and that ledge. Why, it’s just my size.

LEADER:       Well it does sound reasonable, Hester, but it’s too much of a chance for you to take.

HESTER:        Chance! Haven’t we all been taking chances day after day? You let me. I’ll strap myself to one of those bushes and you see if I don’t stick on.

Jake helpfully weighed in with “somebody’s gotta do it.” Just as long as it wasn’t him, or Martha. Maybe some shameless hussy, if only they could find one. Oh yeah, they did…

So now Phil had kittens while Hester was lowered down the cliff. She grabbed hold of one of the cedar bushes, and it held. A forked pole was lowered to her and she evidently saved the wagon train. Phil gushed to his mother “isn’t she wonderful? What do you say now, Mother?” Good ol’ Mom came around, telling her son “if you don’t marry that girl the first chance you get you’re no son of mine, Philip McBride.”

That, unfortunately, is the end of the copy of the program’s continuity that I have. It’s missing the closing comments, which may have identified a few of the players, besides the obvious casting of Harvey Hays as the Old Timer.

So until next time, keep those dials tuned to Empire Builders!