Wednesday, March 30, 2016

310330 - Mountain of Dreams [James J. Hill]



 

Recording status:  Recorded, not circulating

 
I believe the “Mountain of Dreams” title that I have attributed to this broadcast was another of those stories that the Great Northern memorialized only in the accounting records of the company’s Advertising and Publicity Department.
 
 
In the tallies for the month of March, 1931, they included an accounting for the fee of $25.00 paid for rewriting a story named “Mountain of Dreams.” This was listed chronologically (if not coincidentally) after an entry for artists’ fees pertaining to the March 23rd broadcast, and immediately before a similar artists’ fees entry for the March 30th broadcast. As it turns out, if that was indeed my only reasoning for attributing that title to this night’s broadcast, it appears I was premature. Other references to this broadcast attribute the story to continuity writer Edward Hale Bierstadt, and indicate it was “second of the new series of radio playlets about James J. Hill,” but it looks like we’ll have to drop the “Mountain of Dreams” title. Sounds kind of poetic or something, but it doesn’t quite fit the available evidence, nor – significantly – the theme of the story.


James J. Hill, the "Empire Builder" (1838-1916)


To set the stage for this night’s presentation, here are the significant elements of a press release for this story about the great “Empire Builder”:

The railway magnate is submerged in this story and listeners are shown some of the little-known phases of Mr. Hill’s character, temperament and interests.

Starting with young Jim Hill as a clerk down on the river levee in Saint Paul, in the early river-boat days, the story unfolds incidents that shed light on the personal characteristics of the man who later became known as the Empire Builder.

The role of Hill as a young man is taken by Don Ameche, while Hill as a railway magnate and art connoisseur is portrayed by William Rath. A colorful musical background is provided by Josef Koestner, conductor of the Great Northern orchestra.

My copy of the continuity is once again missing a few critical pages, such as the first one. In the absence of a printed copy, I have transcribed portions of the opening of the broadcast from a surviving copy of the audio. Here are the opening comments provided by Ted Pearson, the announcer for Empire Builders:

ANNOUNCER:    The success that came to James J. Hill, founder of the Great Northern Railway, was not the careless gift of the Gods – he fought for it throughout his whole life, a life that was a continual inspiration to those who labored with him at the task of creating an empire. His career is a story of ceaseless work, and endless struggle. His fight was not so much the furious matching of vigorous opposition, but rather the longer bitterer fight against the passive inaction. But Jim Hill triumphed, and he saw his nebulous dream take form and shape before the eyes of those who had shrugged a shoulder at his mighty vision. He lived to see the day when the Northwest rose from its wild prairies, and its craggy mountains, and took its place in the sun. And had he lived to this day, he would have seen his railway an even stronger power in that great northwest empire – a force to build, and a force to nurture that plan that Jim Hill knew as his own.

Pearson’s comments were followed by music from the studio orchestra, which then faded into some exterior train sounds at a station. Harried travelers scurried to locate their cars on the train, as a porter and conductor helped them get onboard. The train pulled out of the station, and then the scene switched aboard the Empire Builder and a conversation between the Old Timer and another passenger. The author of the story, Edward Hale Bierstadt, took this opportunity to offer once more to the listening audience a pep talk about the country’s struggling economy.

MAN:                    Say, there’s one thing about this Great Northern Railway – it keeps its promises. If it says it’s going to get you there on time, it gets you there on time! That’s a darned sight more than I can say for most things in this country right now.

PIONEER:            Why, stranger, what’s the matter with the country? Looks all right to me. There’s North Dakota running along right beside the train – the bread basket of the world. There’s no finer land anywhere.

MAN:                    That’s all very well, but it looks to me as if the whole world was gone to Blazes – so to speak. Look at this depression we’re going through! No loose money – unemployment everywhere. No – it’s time for all of us to pull in our horns.

The Old Timer took exception to the man’s pessimism, and tried to explain that this was no time for the country’s citizens to be pulling their heads back into their shells like a frightened turtle.

MAN:                    Tell it to the marines!

PIONEER:            Now, hark you! Practically every great fortune that has ever been made here was made by men who believed in the future of their country. They just wouldn’t be discouraged! The men who bet on it to lose – well, they lost themselves and most of them have died poor. Depression! All you need, my friend, is a right good dose of castor oil!

MAN:                    You sure say a lot, but it don’t mean much. As President Cleveland once said – “We’re confronting a condition, and not a theory.”

PIONEER:            Well, now, talkin’ about President Cleveland, I want to tell you something about one of his best friends.

MAN:                    Who was that?

PIONEER:            James J. Hill – Jim Hill, the man who built the Great Northern Railway that we’re a-ridin’ on right now. Jim Hill, he believed in this country when everybody thought he was crazy, and when the so-called experts were dead against him – and he was right!

The Old Timer kept pouring it on until the pessimist he was talking to started to back down a little, and naturally encouraged the Old Timer to tell him all about Jim Hill. The Old Timer launched into a regular history lesson about Jim Hill and the formative years of his empire building.

PIONEER:            Well, I reckon I’ve worked harder in a worse cause! Listen … along about Eighteen Seventy-Seven, Jim Hill made up his mind that the thing for him and his friends to do was to buy up the little St. Paul and Pacific Railway. It was head over heels in debt, but it would provide the link that both Canada and the States needed between St. Paul and Winnipeg. Hill already had considerable interests out here, and was busy buildin’ up the country – interestin’ settlers, and developin’ what little railroad property he already had. The only thing he and his friends needed was money! But just the same, Jim Hill visualized his railroad runnin’ up through the valley of the Red River of the North, and he knew that it would be a great thing. The trouble was to find somebody to believe him! So he waited, he and his Canadian friend, Donald Smith, that was afterwards Lord Strathcona, until Mr. Stephen, President of the big Bank of Montreal, was in Chicago on business and then Hill and Smith got Mr. Stephen to come out to St. Paul and take a ride on the road – just to look it over. I tell you, stranger, when you hear the soft purr and hum of this great Empire Builder train, that’s named after Jim Hill, it’s hard to realize just what travelin’ was in those days. Why, man-alive, we’re travelling faster than a mile a minute right now! And just about as smooth as glass. But them early trains – say, they were different!

The radio continuity called for the scene to change again, to an 1877 conversation between Hill, Stephen, and Smith. The continuity described the needed sound effects, to include “INTERIOR TRAIN EFFECT OF 1877.” Don’t you just wonder how the sound effects technicians felt about those instructions? What exactly should an 1877 train sound like? I suppose it would be difficult to go wrong, as few people alive at that time would have first-hand knowledge of “interior train effects of 1877.”




LEFT: George Stephen, 1st Baron Mount Stephen (1829-1921);
RIGHT: Donald Smith, Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal (1820-1914)
The great transportation triumvirate of Hill, Stephen, and Smith soon found themselves in the little town of De Graff, Minnesota. It remains a little town to this day, by the way – population numbers over the past forty years or so show the number of residents has run from only about 100-200 people. The town was named by Colonel Andrew DeGraff, who along with his own son and others, was responsible for a considerable amount of early railroad building in the region.

Chas. A. De Graff (1843-1887) - railroad builder in Minnesota with his father Andrew De Graff


The three travelers detrained at De Graff, where they encountered Father Ireland and a significant crowd of local inhabitants, celebrating a local holiday. Hill asked Father Ireland how the breeding bulls that he supplied to local ranchers were working out. One such rancher, named Timothy Scanlon, was called over by Father Ireland to explain his experience.

IRELAND:             That’s right, Timothy. Now – come here. This is Mr. Hill, Timothy, who sent you that live bull. Come – tell him about it.

HILL:                     Yes, Scanlon – had any luck with your breeding? That was as fine a bull as I could get.

SCANLON:           Well now, Mr. Hill, I’m sure I’m greatly obliged to you for that bull. I am indeed.

HILL:                     That’s all right. Was he all right?

SCANLON:           Well – the truth is – he was a bit tough.

HILL:                     Tough! Did you say tough?

IRELAND:             Ha! Ha! I’ve been waiting for this!

SMITH:                 By heaven, he ate the bull!

STEPHEN:            There’ll be no breeding from that one!

HILL:                     Well, doggone my hide! Scanlon – what in time did you eat that bull for? Didn’t you understand he was for breeding purposes?

SCANLON:           Breedin’ purposes! Shure, an’ I thought th’ good Father said “eatin’ purposes”!

With a good-natured patience in the radio play that may not have been so evident in real life, Hill readily agreed to send the rancher another breeding bull – if he promised not to eat it.

Next up was Dan McCormick, leader of the town band. Father Ireland asked him to show Hill and his associates how he used his mouth organ to strike up the band. McCormick obliged by playing the opening bars to “Camptown Races” on his harmonica, which the rest of the band took up and played.

When the song ended, and Hill expressed his appreciation for the community’s cultivation of the arts, Father Ireland called over a little nine-year-old girl named Louise Overturf. Little Louise (undoubtedly played by child-voice-specialist Betty White) explained to Mr. Hill that the town had a “liberry” but that it had no books. Hill asked the little girl what was on her mind.

HILL:          Well, Louise, it’s your story. What do you want me to do?

LOUISE:    Well – ah – Mr. Hill – you have so much money – LAUGH.

HILL:          On the contrary, Mr. Stephen will tell you that I’m so poor that I’m trying to borrow some!

LOUISE:    Well – ah – Mr. Hill, there are so many books we want to read – we thought – we thought that if you’d give us a hundred dollars –

Duly impressed by the little lady, Hill made out a check for one hundred dollars on the spot, and handed it to Father Ireland to follow up on. Louise ran off to tell her mother the happy news about the library endowment, and the men went on pontificating about the development of the territory along the railroad. Father Ireland then brought up a ticklish subject involving some of Hill’s disgruntled employees.

IRELAND:             Well – there are a score or more of men in the town here – ex-railroad men – who claim that they’ve been thrown out of work because you employed other labor on the road. Now, you know and I know that isn’t true, but – they’re nasty about it, and they’ve done their best to stir up bad feeling. Indeed, Mr. Hill, they threatened to come down here to meet you today, and it was all I could do to dissuade them – especially big Ole Hanson – he’s a sort of ringleader.

HILL:                     Now listen, Father Ireland – you know, and I know, and they ought to know that in all my life I’ve never treated labor unfairly. I’ll fight for my men as long as they fight for me.

Archbishop John Ireland (1838-1918)
Big Ole Hanson came striding up to the men and asked if one of them was Jim Hill. The Empire Builder identified himself (all the while the good Father thinking it better for Hill to duck out of this threatening confrontation). Hanson began to list his grievances.

HANSEN:             You take our yobs away from us!

HILL:                     Took your jobs! You quit your jobs, Hansen, and you know it.

HANSEN:             You shut your mouth! You give us our yobs back or I’ll break you in two – you little Hill!

HILL:                     Oh! you think you can break me in two do you? You come here at the head of twenty men and threaten me?! Hansen, I think I can whip you – you and your whole family!

HANSEN:             Ay tank ay bost yure had, Hill!

HILL:                     (GRUNTS)  Ha! So you’d slug me, would you? Well – How do you like – this?  (A SLAP)  And just so you can turn the other cheek, try this one!  (A SLAP)  Now if you’ve got anything to say – say it!

HANSEN:             Ay say you got good ponch, Hill. We want our yobs back.

HILL:                     You can’t have them.

It’s probably fair to say that Labor/Management Relations have evolved considerably since 1877, but it’s hard to imagine Hansen and his boys really thought this was a good way to persuade Hill into putting them back on the payroll. Ole’s ire subsided somewhat, and he resorted to pleading. Hill eventually relented and, thinking Ole had been put in his place, acquiesced to the big Swede’s request.

All of this activity seemed to have the intended effect on Stephen, the banker.

STEPHEN:            Hill, you want me to help you finance this road, don’t you?

HILL:                     That’s what we came out here for, Mr. Stephen.

STEPHEN:            Well, I’ll tell you something. First, you showed me the country, and that was good. Next, you showed me your settlers here, and they were good too. But now you’ve shown me a man who believes in the country and can lead the people that live in it. And that’s final! Yes – you can have your loan. I’ll see you all the way through.

HILL:                     (JOYFULLY) By heaven, Stephen, I appreciate that. And I’ll tell you that no man, woman or child who has a stake in this country is going to lose by it – while I live anyhow.

On the strength of that happy development, the scene transitioned back to the modern train and the conversation between the Old Timer and the pessimistic fellow traveler.

PIONEER:            (CHUCKLE)  So you see, stranger, that was what Jim Hill, and the men who worked with him, thought of our future. I reckon they weren’t far wrong.

MAN:                    Hu-m-m! Sounds so, don’t it? How come we have hard times then? Hey?

PIONEER:            Shucks, man! This country is like a healthy boy. He may have a touch of stomach ache from too many green apples once in a while, but he’s not a chronic invalid on that account. Not by a long chalk!

MAN:                    (DUBIOUSLY)  Still – there are lots of people selling.

PIONEER:            Then, sonny – you buy! Never forget that nine-tenths of the fortunes that have been made in this country have been made by betting on its future – and not against it!

MAN:                    Old Timer, if that’s the way you feel, why aren’t you rich now?

PIONEER:            (CHUCKLE)  Why, I am rich – in everything that’s worthwhile to me. I’m rich in my love of this great Northwestern Empire that Jim Hill opened up to me – and all the world. There’s not a day that I’m not glad because of it. That’s all I want. But I’ve got more. I’ve prospered with this country too!

MAN:                    Well, burn my dinner if I don’t believe you’re right! I’m going to hang on to everything I’ve got and buy more. This country looks good to me.

PIONEER:            Well, scatter my chipmunks, if I wasn’t sure that was the way you really felt about it! Good for you!

The orchestra came up again and then faded for the close, and a conversation among Ted Pearson, Lucille Husting, and the Old Timer. It what appears to have become standard for the closing of the springtime broadcasts, the subject of the Old Timer’s Tour of Glacier Park was addressed once more. Throughout the on-air conversation, the event was referred to in the plural – the Old Timer’s “vacation trips” to Glacier Park. In reality, and even though there was early discussion of conducting multiple trips, in the end there was only a single tour of Glacier Park hosted by Harvey Hays, the Old Timer.

At one point in the closing confab, announcer Ted Pearson asked the Old Timer how Glacier National Park got its name, wondering (as most folks do) if it was because of all the glaciers found there. That’s a common misperception, but an understandable one. The Old Timer went off on a geology lecture, not far different than what a modern-day National Park Service ranger might convey at a summertime campfire talk. As a matter of fact, here’s the way this issue is explained (in brief) on the NPS’s own web site [https://www.nps.gov/glac/learn/nature/glaciers.htm]:

Glacier National Park is not named so much for its small glaciers, but for the colossal work of colossal glaciers in the past. Ten thousand years ago, the topography of Glacier looked much the same as it does today. Before that, enough ice covered the Northern Hemisphere to lower sea levels 300 feet. In places near the park, ice was a mile deep.

The trio wrapped up their conversation about Glacier National Park when the Old Timer asked Ted how much time remained in the broadcast.

ANNOUNCER:    Let’s see – by golly . . . only one minute. We’ll have to go on. But say, Old Timer, there’s one thing I want to ask you about your vacation trip.

                              Listen . . .

                              (ABOUT TWO SECONDS OF DEAD AIR)

PIONEER:            [EXTENDED, BEMUSED CHUCKLING] Well, you bet, Ted! Sure – we’ll be in Canada part of the time, at Prince of Wales Hotel, on Waterton Lake, just the other side of the border.

                              (ORCHESTRA UP. FADE FOR ANNOUNCEMENTS)

So there you have it. My suspicions have been correct, all along. The Old Timer’s Tour of Glacier National Park made a deliberate side-trip across the international border – on the 4th of July – to ensure the participants would find themselves in a location where they could imbibe, legally, to their hearts’ content. I hope, through all the potentially unbridled carousing, Harvey Hays and Marc Williams maintained the appropriate degree of decorum, considering they were de facto representatives of the Great Northern Railway.

 
Lobby of the Prince of Wales Hotel
Photo by T.J. Hileman, from vintage lantern slide
Bill Lundgren collection

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

 
 

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

310323 - Charles Russell






Recording status:  Recorded, not circulating

Two of the most prominent artists of the western U.S., the “Old West” in particular, remain Frederic Remington (1861-1909) and Charles (“Charlie”) Russell (1864-1926). Remington travelled much of the west, and maintained an art studio at his home in New York. Russell, on the other hand, came to Montana as a young man and virtually never left. His modest studio was at Great Falls. Russell and his wife Nancy also maintained a cozy summer cottage on the shore of Lake McDonald, in Glacier National Park. Although many of the stories dramatized on Empire Builders were tales of historical fiction, this night’s story honored one of Montana’s most beloved citizens, the recently deceased Charlie Russell.

Charlie and Nancy Russell (circa 1920).
Amon Carter Museum of American Art collection
The press release issued by the Great Northern’s H.M. Sims described some of the elements of the radio play, and it served to herald the introduction to the radio audience of a unique singing talent, Marc Williams (1903-1974). Also known as the “Cowboy Crooner,” Williams found himself a regularly featured performer with the Empire Builders through the remaining duration of its series. He also accompanied the Old Timer on the July tour of Glacier National Park.



Here’s the relevant content from the press release for this broadcast:

Montana’s famous cowboy artist, Charles M. Russell, is the principal character in the story which the Old Timer relates on Empire Builders Monday night.

Through Russell’s paintings the life of the old west will live forever, but it is the old, lovable Charlie himself, close friend of Will Rogers, that the Old Timer tells about. Probably three-fourths of the homes in the United States today have one or more reproductions of Charlie Russell’s western pictures, and those who admire him only as a painter will love him as a man when they “listen in” on the confab between him and the Old Timer, a few years back, out in Mr. Russell’s studio cabin, at Lake McDonald, in Glacier National park.

A musical background has been arranged by Josef Koestner, director of the Great Northern orchestra, featuring Marc Williams, singing cowboy, who will be introduced to the national networks for the first time on the Great Northern program. The story is by Edward Hale Bierstadt.

The press release actually misspelled Williams’ first name: they spelled it “Mark,” which was a common and understandable mistake. His given name was Marcus Dumont Williams, therefore he spelled his first name with a “C” rather than a “K.” Marc Williams recorded a number of cowboy songs prior to his appearance on Empire Builders. From March of 1928 to November of 1930, Williams recorded at least 20 songs, mostly on the Brunswick record label.

As the radio program began, announcer Ted Pearson prepared the audience for the story being dramatized. The continuity that I’ve located does not do justice to the recorded introduction. Here’s a transcription of the comments made by Pearson to open the show, and to set the scene for the radio play.

ANNOUNCER:    The Lake McDonald region in Glacier National Park is one of the most beautiful spots in that 1,534 square miles of inspiring grandeur. From the sheltered rustic porch of the Lake McDonald Hotel, the eye wanders across the lake to an unbroken vista of lofty mountains and virgin forests that conceal a myriad of other blue lakes. Close at hand is famous Gunsight Pass, gateway to the west side of the park, and route of the intrepid explorers of another day. Tonight, Empire Builders takes you out to Lake McDonald, where you will hear a tale of Charlie Russell, famous cowboy artist. Let us join the happy group on the porch of the Lake McDonald Hotel, with the Old Timer, and his hound dog, January.

This was followed by music performed by the orchestra, which faded into the singing of Marc Williams. The Old Timer’s dog, January, began to howl. Williams stopped his singing to tease the Old Timer about his dog, pointing out this was supposed to be a solo, not a duet. The Old Timer made a half-hearted attempt to defend his impertinent hound.

PIONEER:            (CHUCKLES)  Now, Marc, I’ll tell you. Every time I bring this January dog of mine out here to Glacier Park – and especially to Lake McDonald – he gets so full of poetry he’s like to bust right out almost any time!

WOMAN:             But we can hear January any time, and Mr. Williams only promised to sing for us this evening! We want some real cowboy songs.

PIONEER:            You hear that, you January!? Now you keep that meat trap of yours closed.  [DOG WHINES]  He’ll be good now. Go ahead, Marc. You know, you’re one of the few things left that remind me of the old west.





Marc Williams then sang “Little Old Sod Shanty.”  When the song ended, Marc and the Old Timer began to talk of Charlie Russell.

WILLIAMS:          You know, old timer, you said I reminded you of the old west, but there was one man who used to have a cabin out here in the Park at Lake McDonald who was even closer to it than I am.

PIONEER:            I know who you mean, Marc. God rest his soul!

WOMAN:             Who was that?

PIONEER:            Charles M. Russell – Charlie Russell to his friends – the cowboy artist of Montana.

MAN:                    Do you mean to say that he was really a cowboy and an artist too?

PIONEER:            I mean to say just that. He was a night horse wrangler until he gave up horse wrangling for painting, and he was a good wrangler too.

MAN:                    But was he a good artist?

PIONEER:            He was a doggone good artist, and don’t you forget it! The chances are that half you folks that are here listening to me have got reproductions of at least one of Charlie’s paintings in your own homes – and don’t know it!

Standing outside the Lewis Hotel (later purchased by the Great Northern Railway and renamed Lake McDonald Hotel) are (l-r): celebrated writer Irvin S. Cobb, hotel proprietor John E. Lewis, and Charlie Russell.    (circa 1925)
Amon Carter Museum of American Art collection


The Old Timer went on to mention that Charlie and his wife Nancy had a cabin just across the lake from the Lake McDonald Hotel, which they referred to as Bull Head Lodge. It has been well-established that Charlie Russell enjoyed spending time at the hotel (known in earlier years as the Lewis Hotel, for its original proprietor, John Lewis). Renowned Glacier Park historian and author Ray Djuff and his writing partner Chris Morrison, in their seminal book on Glacier Park hostelries, “View with a Room,” commented on the notion that Charlie Russell personally embellished the fireplace surround in the main lobby of the hotel. As Djuff and Morrison put it, “Rumor persists that cowboy artist Charlie Russell drew the native-style etchings surrounding the fireplace. Russell was often a visitor here, and the tale likely was perpetuated by the hotel staff after the Great Northern’s takeover to add to the building’s character.”
 
Vintage postcard showing the fireplace in the lobby of Lake McDonald Hotel.
Author's collection
 
I don’t know how much value is added in validating the claim of Russell’s having done the artwork on the fireplace, but here is a compelling snippet from the Empire Builders continuity from 1931, just five years after Russell’s passing:

WOMAN:             I suppose – I suppose he hated tourists – ?

PIONEER:            No, ma’am, he did not! He was like the rest of us old timers out here that love the west – he wanted others to love it too, and he was proud and glad to show it to ‘em. Why now – you folks standing by the big fireplace there – just turn round and look at it. Charlie Russell designed that fireplace for this here Lake McDonald Hotel, and I’m here to say that he did a right good job! … Glacier Park was always a playground for Charlie – just the same as it is for you folks – and he sure did love to play!

One of the “tourists” gathered in the Lake McDonald Hotel lobby asked the Old Timer to explain something about what Charlie Russell was really like. This sent the old tale-teller off on another of his predictable reminiscences. It was an evening “not so many years ago” when Charlie and the Old Timer shared steaks broiled over an open fire. They were sitting outside Russell’s cabin-studio in Great Falls. Transitional music was played, then faded to the sound of January whining and yapping.

PIONEER:            Now you, January, hush your mouth! Doggone it, Charlie, anybody would think that fool dog of mine hadn’t eaten for a week! Like to give me a bad name with any one that didn’t know me. Folks would think I didn’t feed him.

RUSSELL:             Well, Old Timer, I guess dogs are sort of like humans. The lungs and the stomach aren’t far apart … This here grub will be ready any minute now.

PIONEER:            You’re sure lucky, Charlie, to have this studio-cabin or cabin-studio or whatever you call it –

RUSSELL:             I call it a shack.

PIONEER:            Anyhow, you’re plumb lucky to have it here right next to the house. Place of your own that you can paint in, and cook in and think in, and –

RUSSELL:             And put my feet up.

The two men were enjoying each other’s company, and Russell was just about to start explaining to the Old Timer all about his first job in Montana, herding sheep back in the early 1880s. Just then, there was a loud banging on the door. A young man stumbled into the shack and fell to the floor.

PIONEER:            What the dickens! … Why – it’s only a boy!

RUSSELL:             He’s sick – or hurt. Help me to lift him, Old Timer. There – he’s comin’ to all right now … What’s the matter, son?

BILL:                     I guess – I guess I must have fainted …. Isn’t anything the matter – except – I’m hungry.

RUSSELL:             Hungry! In Montana! Son, you just sit right down here with us, and dig into some real food. You won’t be hungry long!

PIONEER:            Have you come far?

BILL:                     St. Paul.

Charlie and the Old Timer started chatting the boy up as he finished his meal – the first food he’d eaten in three days, he told them. They asked Bill what brought him to Great Falls. Bill – Bill Grant was his name – explained that his father had died about a year ago, back in St. Paul. His older sister, Alma (the continuity named her Mattie), heard of a job out in Montana, and in a valiant effort to make money for the family, she set out to do her part. Bill stayed home, but their mother died, so Bill came out west looking for his sister. She moved since writing her last letter back home, so Bill was stymied in his quest, and soon went broke looking for her.

RUSSELL:             And you landed up here tonight. Well, you might have done a heap worse, Bill. Now, I’ll tell you. You shove down all the grub you think you need, and then you curl up on those blankets there by the fire. And meanwhile, the old timer and me will go on just as if you wasn’t here. That way, you’ll get a chance to rest up and forget your troubles.

BILL:                     I’ll be glad to do that, and – I certainly do thank you.

The exhausted young man quickly nodded off, and Charlie and the Old Timer went on with their conversation. Talk eventually turned to some of their mutual Indian friends. Charlie told the Old Timer a Blackfeet man named Little Dog told him a story that he figured he’d write down, if he ever found time. The Old Timer was just as eager to hear a good yarn as to spin one, so he prodded Charlie to let out with it. Charlie obliged. With a bit more transitional music, the scene shifted to a conversation between Charlie Russell and Little Dog on a starlit summer evening. Little Dog pointed to a pair of stars. Charlie told his friend the white men called those stars Gemini, the Twins. Little Dog (his named truncated to merely “Dog” in the continuity, to save space) assured Charlie those stars were there long before the white men appeared, and then launched into a story about the stars.

DOG:                    Very long ago when there were fewer stars, and when the winds were little, there lived a war chief of this tribe, my brother, named Two Bears. This chief was young and brave, and strong in battle, and yet there came a day when he led the young man and warriors to defeat, so that few returned to their lodges. And so the wise men of the tribe, the council met, and called Two Bears before them. And the chief among those wise men spoke to him, saying –

         (INDIAN MUSIC IN AND UP QUICKLY. FADE TO BACKGROUND FOR LEGEND)

WISE MAN:         Two Bears, the Council has spoken. You have been judged. It only remains for the gods to give their answer. Will you abide by the judgment of the heavens?

BEARS:                 By all the stars, I swear it.

WISE MAN:         Good. Take you this arrow. It is magic. Shoot it high in the air – straight above you. When it falls – if it takes a life – the heavens have accepted the sacrifice, and you are free. If it falls clear – the sacrifice has been rejected, and you are guilty. And, if you are guilty, you yourself must die. Take you the arrow.

BEARS:                 I take it in my hand. I take it with me. And now – I go to my lodge to say farewell to Running Fawn, my wife, and to pray the aid of the heavens.

With a bit more music, the scene shifted yet again, and Two Bears was speaking to his wife, Running Fawn. Two Bears told his wife of the sentence, and what he must now do. Running Fawn took the magic arrow in her hands and held it aloft, saying a prayer to spare her husband.

FAWN:                 Oh, thou Great Spirit, Holder of the Heavens, hear this my prayer! I stand before you, holding the magic arrow, the life and honor of my husband, upon my upraised hands. Hear me, Great Father! By the light of the new moon, and by the sun at noon day; by the winds of dawn, and by the dusk of evening, I ask that you will listen! Accept – accept this sacrifice that is offered. Let not this arrow fall to the ground unstained by blood! Save him I love, and if the mark be my own breast –

BEARS:                 No – no! You must not say that! I am your breast!

FAWN:                 And if the mark be on my breast – strike swiftly! … And now, take the arrow, Two Bears, my husband, and shoot well!

BEARS:                 You have weakened my hand! I dare not draw the bow!

The love of Running Fawn for her husband was strong and deep, and her willingness to sacrifice herself did not go unnoticed by the Great Spirit. Two Bears shot the magic arrow high into the air. A crowd had gathered, and they all gasped and cried out as the arrow plummeted back to earth. It’s a shame Running Fawn wasn’t named Darting Hummingbird. She could not escape the arrow, and it struck her down. Devastated by this, Two Bears pulled out his knife and quickly followed his beloved wife into the afterlife. More music brought the listeners back to the scene with Little Dog and Charlie Russell.

DOG:                    And so it was, my brother, that the war chief, Two Bears; and Running Fawn, his wife were united in the heavens. Even tonight you have seen them – two stars that smile upon my race forever.

RUSSELL:             My younger brother, my ears have heard your tale – my heart has opened. So long as the stars shine, so long shall live –

DOG:                    The courage that is born of love, my brother.

The busy studio orchestra brought the story back to Charlie’s cabin in Great Falls. The Old Timer acknowledged that it was “a might pretty story.” Charlie and the Old Timer agreed that it was getting late – time to turn in. Charlie’s wife Nancy came into the cabin and discovered young Bill asleep near the fire. The men explained about Bill having drifted in, and how he was all tuckered out.
 
Nancy and Charlie on the porch
 of Bull Head Lodge, circa 1926.
Amon Carter Museum of American Art collection
 

MRS. R:                Well, if that’s so, why don’t you just leave him and January here to look after each other, and you two come to bed. Old Timer, I’ve had Alma air out the spare room –

PIONEER:            Had – Alma!

RUSSELL:             Alma who? Not – Alma Grant?

BILL:                     (WAKING)  Who said – Alma Grant? That’s – my sister.

I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you kind of saw that coming. But doesn’t it seem odd that Charlie took so long to make the connection? It would have, if Edward Hale Bierstadt did not account for that in the story.

RUSSELL:             Nancy, where in time did you dig up Alma Grant?

MRS. R.:               Why – she’s my new help, Charlie. She only came today.

RUSSELL:             And her brother drifted in here tonight after lookin’ over the whole State of Montana for her!

Bill learned that his sister was in the house, and he scampered off to see her. The Old Timer and Charlie Russell wrapped up the story:

PIONEER:            Charlie, I reckon miracles still happen.

RUSSELL:             I reckon they still do, Old Timer – if you’re west of the Mississippi – where you can still see the stars.

Vintage sheet music featuring Marc Williams, the "Cowboy Crooner".
Author's collection
Marc Williams came back to the microphone and sang a few bars of “The Cowboy’s Dream.” Ted Pearson was then allotted a full minute and a half to talk about Charlie Russell and Glacier Park – and to try to lure as many listeners as possible aboard a Great Northern train to the Rockies of Montana.

ANNOUNCER:    Charlie Russell typified the old west – the west of romance and fire, and undying glory. His little cabin in Glacier Park near Lake McDonald is still a shrine that no true lover of the west will miss. Glacier Park laid its spell on Charlie Russell, and he strove to tell his story to the world. How well he did it – the old timers who know him can best tell. But the wind in the pines that blows Charlie Russell to sleep still sings the song of the high places to those who love them. The same great stars still blaze in his sky and the great calm mountains that he loved still smile benignly down on the little mortals who lift their eyes to their cloudy heads. Glacier Park today is still the Glacier Park of Charlie Russell’s day, and it is yours to enjoy and thrill to, even as it was his. Come out to Glacier Park this summer – live a vacation that you will always remember. Come out and see the mountains! Meet the Indians! Ride, and hike, and fish . . . and live! Maybe you’ll be fortunate enough even to secure a place on one of the Old Timer’s personally conducted all-expense vacation trips through Glacier Park. Consult your local agent, or, if you prefer, write direct to the Old Timer, care, Great Northern Railway, 113 South Clark Street, Chicago, Illinois, and tell him what you want to do in Glacier Park this summer. He’ll send you pictures, maps, booklets – everything you want to know about Glacier National Park, and the vacation of your dreams.

The few credits for the performers were as follows:

The Old Timer:                  Harvey Hays

Charlie Russell:                  Don Ameche

Running Fawn:                  Lucille Husting

Marc Williams:                  himself

 

Listeners were assured that they would be hearing from the Cowboy Crooner again “in the near future.”

 

 

 
Nancy Russell (circa 1925).
Amon Carter Museum of American Art collection
Before I wrap this up, I’d like to share just a bit more with you that I’ve learned about Charles and Nancy Russell. Nancy was physiologically unable to bear children, but the couple was intent to have their own little family. So they adopted a boy they named Jack. Their boy was only 10 years old when his father died, and about 15 when this radio broadcast aired. By that time, Jack and his mother were living in California. On the night of the broadcast, the two huddled up to the radio and listened in – Empire Builders, with its many tales of Glacier Park and Montana, was a regular Monday evening pastime for them. Nancy was so pleased by this story about her late husband that she wrote a letter to Great Northern Railway president Ralph Budd, offering her compliments for their fine tribute to Charlie Russell.

 
Letter written by Nancy Russell to Ralph Budd of the GN,
expressing her appreciation for the Empire Builders radio program of March 23, 1931.
Great Northern Railway corporate records, Minnesota Historical Society


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