310427 - Topic: Riel Rebellion

Recording Status:  recorded, not located.

Over the course of 103 broadcasts, the Great Northern Railway offered listeners of Empire Builders a variety of content. Some programs emphasized music, some highlighted notable developments concerning railroad services, and most involved a dramatic performance based in the history of the Pacific Northwest. Some of these stories drew from factual accounts, while some were pure fabrications only suggested by real people, places, or events. In this night’s story, listeners were treated to a story about James J. Hill and his involvement with a touchstone of Canadian history: the Métis uprising led by their controversial leader, Louis Riel. The timeframe of this activity was the 1870s to the 1880s. It was during this period that James J. Hill was most active in developing the foundations of what became his transportation empire under the banner of the Great Northern Railway. The story dramatized in this episode of Empire Builders entailed a true adventure in the life of Jim Hill, which is said to have occurred in March of 1870.

I’ve commented previously on some of the unfortunate content of these broadcasts. It is difficult to read the scripts or listen to the scant remaining audio of these programs without applying the sensibilities of our present culture and society. In the 1920s and 1930s, even a nationally-broadcast radio program might readily incorporate racial stereotypes in a markedly uncomplimentary or demeaning way. Today we recognize much of it as unabashed bigotry, and would not tolerate it. I neither condone it, nor apologize for it. History must be taken in context, but some of the content of this program is unacceptable by today’s standards. Please take this into account as you read on.

I have recently discovered that Louis Riel is today regarded by many as a prominent leader and conduit of positive change among the Métis of Canada, a man whose challenges to authority helped mold the Province of Manitoba into what it is today. In fact, since 2008, the third Monday in the month of February is set aside as a provincial holiday in Manitoba - Louis Riel Day. Many businesses and government offices close, offering an opportunity for all Manitobans to reflect on the impact of this man on their region and culture. The Métis population evolved in Canada as the result of mixed-race unions of indigenous women, and men who were typically either French or British. A less polite means of designating these people is to call them half-breeds. That is the term used chiefly in the Empire Builders story.

The only copy of the continuity to surface thus far for this broadcast is missing the first page. I’m guessing that the program started out by describing a time many years earlier when the Old Timer crossed paths with the Empire Builder himself, James J. Hill. The opening dialog presented a scene where the Old Timer was chatting with a Black steward in the service of Mr. Hill. There was also a young Black lad who was along to help the steward. The steward’s name was Bob, and his young assistant was named Rasmus.

It came up in conversation that Rasmus was afraid of bears, and that he feared one might materialize at any moment. The men were on or near the St. John River, a location that Hill frequented over many years as a place to relax and “kill fish.” Hill decided to play a joke on young Rasmus.

HILL:                     Rasmus, I hear you’re scared of bears?

RASMUS:             Yes, suh, I most certainly is!

HILL:                     Well, you don’t want to let the bears bother you any. They’re tame enough. Wouldn’t do any more than mangle you a little anyway.  (BOB GROANS)  They wouldn’t eat you.  (GROAN)  But what you do want to look out for in these parts is the Side Winder!

RASMUS:             The – the which, suh?

HILL:                     The Side Winder – that’s so, isn’t it, Old Timer?

PIONEER:            Yes, that’s a right mean beast!

RASMUS:             Please suh – what – what’s this here Side Winder like, Mr. Hill?

HILL:                     Well, he’s about six feet high, and covered all over with fur.  (GROANS)  He’s got bright red eyes and a bushy tail, and there’s only one thing he likes to eat better than he does dark meat – and that’s canned tomatoes. You hear?

The boy was sent back to the cook tent to work on making a meal, and Hill told Bob to rustle around on the ground making “Side-Winder” tracks so he could prank the boy. Hill told the Old Timer that he felt as though he didn’t have much chance to play anymore, other than when he came up to this location on the St. John River. The Old Timer was empathetic.

PIONEER:            Mr. Hill, you couldn’t have built the Great Northern Railway – and you couldn’t have made the Pacific Northwest into the empire it is today if you hadn’t had the sense to let go and play once in a while! If a man doesn’t do that – he’ll break.

HILL:                     I guess you’re right. But I haven’t had much chance to let go in all these years. Just hit, and keep on hitting.

PIONEER:            You know, especially now that we’re up here in Canada, there’s a question I’ve been waiting to ask you.



James J. Hill at his fishing lodge on the St. John River

Minnesota Historical Society collection

The Old Timer related an experience where he found himself talking with a Canadian about Hill, and the man said “James J. Hill of the Great Northern? That's the man who saved Canada!” The Old Timer said he didn’t have time to ask the Canadian what he meant by that, so he hoped Jim Hill himself could explain.

HILL:                     The man who saved Canada! No, I didn’t save Canada. She’s never needed saving, and if she had she could have saved herself. I guess I know what your friend meant though.

PIONEER:            Well, the camp fire’s burnin’ bright, and this is the time for spinning a yarn.  (CAMP FIRE CRACKLES)  How about it?

Well here we go, then – time for another story. Hill was happy to oblige.

HILL:                     I don’t mind – just as a matter of record. It was back in 1870 when the half breed, Louis Riel, raised a rebellion against the Canadian Government, and finally managed to cut off Winnipeg so no one could get in or out of the town. My old friend, Donald Smith – he was Lord Strathcona later on – was called in to give some advice to the people in Montreal, and one day in the late autumn they sat down and talked it all over.

With some bagpipe music, the scene transitioned to old Montreal, and a conversation between Donald Smith and a man named Bishop. Smith declared that Riel could not keep Winnipeg cut off from eastern Canada forever.

BISHOP:               He can keep it cut off for long enough to make ample trouble! If Winnipeg falls into his hands it will cost us men and money to take it back. Here it is autumn. The only way we can get troops to Winnipeg is to march them over-land. If we had a railroad – that would be different.

SMITH:                 It would take three months to march a column of troops to Winnipeg – three months even if we could guarantee the weather, but, as you say, we’re next door to winter now, and with snow on the ground – they might never get there.

BISHOP:               Then what’s the answer? Does this rascally half breed, Riel, win the deal?

SMITH:                 Not if we can help it! Sooner or later we’d get him, and his crazy rebellion anyhow, but – Winnipeg must not fall! The truth is, Bishop …

BISHOP:               The truth is that we’re in no position to make plans for stamping out this rebellion or to relieve Winnipeg until we know what the situation in the city is, how long it can hold out without help, and all the rest of it.

SMITH:                 That’s true enough. If Winnipeg can hold out against Riel until Spring, when the snow’s off the ground, then we can send troops by forced marches to raise the siege. But if she can’t hold out until then – we’ll have to throw in our hand or take desperate measures. Our whole policy hinges on knowing what the real situation is and, curse it, we don’t know!

BISHOP:               Riel has got Winnipeg bottled up so tight that they say not even a mouse can get in or out of the place. If we could only get a man inside!

SMITH:                 By Heavens, I’ve got it!

Donald Smith, a.k.a. Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal

Donald Smith knew just the man for the job:  a Canadian-born transportation entrepreneur from St. Paul, James J. Hill. Smith wasted no time sending for Hill.

In the meantime, Riel was fomenting discontent among his people. Having laid siege to Fort Garry outside Winnipeg, the Métis leader realized it was only a matter of time before an armed force marched out from Montreal to repeal the uprising. But he also understood the limitation of geography and weather that would hamper most efforts to bring in any response to the takeover of the fort. One of his men, a Métis named Joseph, challenged Riel for guidance.

RIEL:            You are right – you, Joseph; and I will tell you – now. Listen! To the west is wilderness. There is only wilderness to the north. To the east – this help you speak of must come for many hundred miles in dead of winter – on foot. It can not be done! Remains – the south – the States. Take you these men, Joseph, and block the trail from Winnipeg to St. Paul! There lies our danger. Only from St. Paul would it be possible to send a spy. And so – you’ll go – tonight.

JOSEPH:      Be sure that I will go, and be you sure that not a rat will live one day upon that trail!

RIEL:            What will you do?

JOSEPH:      I’ll post my camps in gun shot of the trail, and I myself will venture to St. Paul to pick up gossip – to see if any man be fool enough to dare!

RIEL:            That’s well. One slip and we are lost! From west and north we’re safe. From east the winter will protect us. But from the south – you and your men must close us in. You understand?

This is a point in the story where fact certainly strayed into fiction. I have not found any record indicating anyone representing Riel tried to dupe Hill, or worse, tried to ambush him on a trip to Fort Garry. But the historical record does show that Hill indeed made a journey north at that time to act as an intermediary and try to assess the situation. Moreover, history shows that Smith and Hill knew each other at this time, but only by reputation. They had not yet met in person.

The radio play jumped to a scene in the home of James and Mary Hill in St. Paul. Hill was preparing to depart on his trip into Canada. Mary was worried for him, and challenged him about the trustworthiness of his guide.

HILL:      Just as sure as I ever am of a half-breed. I don’t need a guide for the Red River trail, but it’s handy to have another man to help with the dogs.

MARY:   What’s his name? Where did you get him, Jim?

HILL:      Mary, I don’t know what his name is! Joseph, I think. He just got to St. Paul from Canada a day or two ago.

MARY:   How do you know you can trust him?

HILL:      I don’t trust him. Anyhow, Mary, you can look him over for yourself. I told him to come and let me know when he had the dogs ready. I want to be off by moon rise.

MARY:   I don’t like it – this starting out at night – and all the rest.

HILL:      What folks don’t know won’t hurt ‘em. That’s why I’m making a night start. As for the rest of it – the job’s got to be done, and I’m here to do it. I tell you, Mary – stop worrying!

Despite Mary’s misgivings – which did not subside, despite Hill’s assurances – the two met set out for Fort Garry. Along the trail the weather turned foul. A blizzard descended upon the men and their sled dogs. The men stopped at that point and made camp. They calculated that they were about two or three days out still from the fort. Joseph suggested they might encounter some of Riel’s men and be turned back, or worse. Hill scoffed at the idea, calling Riel a coward. This did not sit well with Joseph.

JOSEPH:          So – he is a coward, is he? … Put up your hands!

HILL:               What in hades! Put down that gun, you fool!

JOSEPH:          I have you covered. Keep you hands well up!

HILL:               So – Mary had it right. It is a trap. Who are you?

JOSEPH:          I am Riel’s right hand. It was my work to see that if a messenger was sent from St. Paul to Fort Garry – that he did not arrive.

HILL:               And so – you came as guide. That was clever. And now – what will you do?

JOSEPH:          I will be generous, and give you a chance for life. Take rations for one day, and go – alone.

Both men knew what this meant. It was a death sentence, and a rather vicious one at that. They were in the midst of a large area of uninhabited territory, and Hill would undoubtedly starve or freeze to death before finding aid. But Hill had other ideas.

HILL:               I see. Just your idea of torture … My God, man, look behind you!

JOSEPH:          (TURNING)  What’s that?!  (A GUN SHOT AND A CRY FROM JOSEPH)

HILL:               And that was an old trick for you to fall for, Joseph! You had the drop, and then you looked away! And now the only thing you’ve got is a busted arm … Sit on the sled, and let me dress that wound.

Hill was none too pleased with Joseph, but he wasn’t going to leave the man out in the wilderness to die. Joseph didn’t believe the two of them could make it to Fort Garry.

JOSEPH:          You cannot do it. The dogs will tire.

HILL:               Listen, I’ll take you safe to Garry. And if the dogs can’t pull the sled – I’ll pull it!

JOSEPH:          I said you were a devil! No man would try as much.

HILL:               Oh yes, they would! I’m plain Jim Hill, but what I start – I finish … Oh, don’t moan – you’ll live to spend some time behind bars yet … There – the fire’s going. Shut up, and eat your food.

Another musical bridge transitioned the story back to the conversation at St. John River between Hill and the Old Timer.

HILL:               Well, that’s the way it was, Old Timer. Not so much to brag about you see.

PIONEER:       Humph! I don’t know. I might be able to tell if just you’d finish the story.

HILL:               Why – I came through alive. I’m no ghost now! I made the trip with Joseph on the sled in better than three days. Joseph, he came through too. Man! I was all played out. I stayed there at Fort Garry for a full month, and then I came through Riel’s lines again back to St. Paul.

PIONEER:       And what word did you send to Montreal?

HILL:               I told ‘em they could wait. Fort Garry – Winnipeg – could hold out until Spring. That was all right. It held out. When the snow was gone the government sent Troops – three months they took to march the distance – and smashed Riel. That ended it.  (LOUD SNORTS AS OF SOME GREAT ANIMAL. YELLS FROM ALEC COMING NEARER)

Oddly, “Rasmus” now became “Alec” – at least for awhile.

PIONEER:       What the Jumping Job is that?!

HILL:               It sounds like Rasmus. Maybe he’s seen the Side Winder!

RASMUS:        Oh Lawdy, Mistah Hill, gimme some canned tomatoes!

HILL:               What in time do you want canned tomatoes for?

RASMUS:        That ole Side Winder! He’s just behind them trees! Oh, save me, mistah Hill! I isn’t fit to die!

PIONEER:       I never thought to see a colored boy turn white, but this one’s sure done it! … Here, Alec! Take this can of tomatoes and throw it to the beast.

Rasmus (or “Alec,” I’m not clear which name they intended to use) chucked a can of tomatoes into the trees – and nearly clobbered Bob, who didn’t seem to enjoy this prank as much as Hill and the Old Timer did.

The continuity then called for “soft transitional music” to be played, and then to fade for the closing announcement. Unfortunately, the closing announcement is missing too.

Governor Floyd Olson
Collection of the Minnesota Historical Society;
1937 portrait painted by Carl A. Bohnen

Something else – or someone else – was also missing on this night: no less than the Governor of the state of Minnesota, Floyd B. Olson. The governor was scheduled to appear on the broadcast, but he ended up as a no-show. A blurb appeared in the April 26 edition of the St. Paul Daily News stating that Gov. Olson would appear on Empire Builders the following night. The newspaper reported that he would ride to Chicago that evening on the Great Northern’s Empire Builder train to attend and participate in the broadcast from the Merchandise Mart the following day. The paper said he would “talk about fishing, swimming and general outdoor activity in the Ten Thousand lakes region.”

The day after the broadcast, on April 28, a story in the St. Paul Daily News told of how the governor missed the show completely. It was said that he showed up punctually at 8:30pm. What the governor did not know, however, was that the day before, the Chicago area had switched over to Daylight Saving Time for the summer, which caused him to be an hour late for the 30-minute live broadcast. Of all the programs recorded off the air on behalf of the railroad, I think this one would be among the most interesting to hear. It would be instructive to learn how they scrambled to ad lib in his absence. As with any arrangements for a special guest on the show, they had a printed copy of the governor’s intended speech. It was reported that someone stepped in for him and read his comments over the air.

The St. Paul Daily News noted that Governor Olson could redeem himself, to some degree at least, with another scheduled radio appearance on his return to St. Paul the following week. They noted, however, that the talk on KSTP would deal with some recent legislative vetoes of his, and not vacation attractions of the state. And so, they concluded, “Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes will have to stand on their own reputations, at least until the governor goes to Chicago again.”

 

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

 

310420 - Scenes of Montana Campfires [Jack Brown story]

Recording status:  Recorded, not located

 

Newspaper headline from the Spokane Daily Chronicle

This broadcast is yet another that was paid to be recorded off the air on the night it was presented, but to date no copy of the recording has been located. I doubt it ever will be. It’s a real shame, too. Not only did this broadcast bring Marc Williams, singing cowboy, back to the microphone, but it also featured a genuine Glacier National Park guide and “dude wrangler,” Jack Brown. It may be the only time in Jack Brown’s life that he either spoke over the radio, or had his voice recorded. From what little I’ve learned about him, he was a character-and-a-half, and deserved to have a book written about him.

Jack Brown, Glacier Guide and Dude Wrangler.
Author's collection

In addition to the prominence of the two aforementioned individuals on this broadcast (Jack Brown and Marc Williams), one more personality tied to this show is worthy of note: Virginia Gardiner. You will recall that Miss Gardiner was the female lead on Empire Builders through its first two seasons, while the show was broadcast out of New York City. I’ve also written about how she spent much of the summer of 1930 in Montana, gathering material for writing radio scripts. This night’s story is one of those scripts. At various times, the topic of the broadcast was referred to as the “Jack Brown Story” or some such, but ultimately it seems they settled on the title of “Scenes of Montana Campfires.”

Mike Short Man of the Blackfeet Nation initiates Virginia Gardiner as an honorary member of the tribe.
Summer, 1930, in Glacier National Park. T.J. Hileman photo.

Before I provide details about the radio play, here is the primary content of a press release for the broadcast, once more issued by the GN’s Harold M. Sims:

A cowboy comedy-drama will be presented by Empire Builders on its NBC period Monday night. Although the story concerns Jack Brown, who as a stagedriver in Montana’s early days often “shot it out” with bandits, the playlet concerns itself principally with the “soft” side of the happy-go-lucky riders of the plains.

What a trio of range riders started out to do to a homesteader who had settled down at their watering place, and what they did, were quite different things.

An all-star cast headed by Harvey Hays as the “Old Timer”; including Lucille Husting, Don Ameche, and Marc Williams, the singing cowboy. Incidental music was arranged by Josef Koestner, conductor of the Great Northern orchestra.

One of the more intriguing aspects of Jack Brown’s appearance on this show is that the GN’s Advertising Manager, O.J. McGillis, actually promoted the idea clear back in the first months the program was on the air. McGillis had only recently taken charge of the Advertising department, after the untimely death of his predecessor, W.R. “Bob” Mills. Bob passed away in April of 1929, following surgery for appendicitis. It was on May 10, 1929, that O.J. McGillis wrote to the GN’s Vice-president, William Kenney, suggesting that either Brown or another Glacier Park character – Frenchy Riviere – be featured on one of the Empire Builders broadcasts. This is how McGillis presented his idea:

After discussing the subject of programs with Mr. Bierstadt he suggested it might be a good idea to get some old timer from Montana, possibly a guide who had the knack of telling interesting stories, to participate in one of our Glacier Park radio programs. I thought perhaps Jack Brown might be suitable for this purpose. He is quite a character and a real old timer around the Park. I think he was born in a covered wagon.

This may have been the best place for McGillis to end his pitch, but perhaps because he was so fresh to his new duties as manager of the Advertising Department, he also made the case for not using Brown. I’ve learned that Kenney was a very conservative executive in most ways, so to lay out all the cons along with the pros of a plan was nearly always a sure way to scuttle your own proposition. McGillis continued:

Jack might be frightened at the prospect of talking through a microphone in New York, but if he were so disposed, I believe he could add some human interest to one of our Glacier Park programs.

McGillis then explained that another man, Frenchy Riviere, might also be suitable. He noted that Riviere lived in the Waterton Lakes country (just north of Glacier Park, in Canada), and might add some helpful color to a broadcast featuring the GN’s interest in the Waterton Lakes area.

Once more, McGillis underscored possible shortcomings to his superior (a perfectly defensible strategy, since it is not generally advisable to allow your boss to be blindsided by a problem that you knew about or could have predicted). But once more, the frequently pessimistic Kenney was fed ample material on which to stew:

There are the only two men I can think of who might possibly be of help to us. If we used either one of these men, or anyone else, it would be necessary to get in touch with them quickly, as we would have to send them to New York for a conference with Mr. Bierstadt, so that he could put their material into a continuity, and have some rehearsals.

It appears Kenney was not at all swayed to pursue these ideas. There is a handwritten note on the letter which tersely states: “Advised McGillis verbally to forget it.”

On the other hand, when Virginia Gardiner arranged to travel to Montana for story-writing material in the summer of 1930, a renewed opportunity presented itself. Gardiner was intent on preparing a story or two that featured Glacier Park and some of the colorful characters that had called the region their home for many years – sights and sounds of a national park that had already proven effective in luring trainloads of tourists (and adding revenue to the railroad’s coffers).

Virginia Gardiner wrote this night’s radio play with Glacier Park Hotel featured in the opening scene. She evidently met Jack Brown and interviewed him when she was at the park the previous summer. The story brought the Glacier guide into a conversation between the Old Timer and a park visitor, and this became the segue to roll into a story of old Montana, and a tale about some fictional Glacier guides.

CLERK:                     (TAPS BELL)  Take Mrs. Lathrop’s bags to three fourteen.

MRS. LATHROP:     Is that an outside room, young man?

CLERK:                     All of the rooms are outside rooms in the Glacier Park Hotel, Mrs. Lathrop.

MRS. LATHROP:     With bath?

CLERK:                     With bath, Madam.

MRS. LATHROP:     Well, I must say I’m very much surprised. I told Elizabeth, (Elizabeth’s my daughter) I said, “Elizabeth, I’m sure it won’t do me a bit of good to go away out there in Montana. I probably shan’t sleep a wink, and there probably won’t be a bath for miles.”  – but Dr. Matthews, (that’s my doctor) insisted that I come out here. I’m out here for my health, you know. Well, Dr. Matthews said that I’d probably find plenty of interesting people and sights to distract my mind, though what it needs distracting for, I’m sure I don’t know, so I said …

So here we are introduced to a typical Easterner, a chatty and somewhat excitable tourist who has little or no experience with the west. There was also a not-so-subtle advertisement for the GN’s Glacier Park Hotel.

The Old Timer himself suddenly appeared, and of course he and Mrs. Lathrop were already acquainted. The two old friends shared some idle chit-chat which included Mrs. Lathrop’s glowing review of her trip out to the park on the Great Northern’s Empire Builder train. She also rattled off an impressive litany of sights in the park that she was hoping to see for herself (almost as though someone shoved a Glacier Park brochure into her hands so she could read from it). This was followed by even more idle chit-chat, which eventually led to a discussion of colorful characters of the park, and Mrs. Lathrop’s desire to actually meet one or two of them. The Old Timer was quick to oblige.

OLD TIMER:            Jest turn you head a little ways, no, this way. That’s it. There, you see that old fella a-standin’ over there by the Transportation Desk with the chaps and ten gallon hat?

MRS. LATHROP:     Merciful Heavens. He’s wearing a revolver!

OLD TIMER:            (CHUCKLES)  Yes’m, but I reckon it’s more from habit than necessity. Let’s ask him about the old West.

MRS. LATHROP:     Well, I’m sure I’m very much surprised. I always said to Elizabeth, “Elizabeth, the only West there is today, is what you see in the moving pictures” but I guess I must be mistaken for once. Who is He?

OLD TIMER:            Well, if I told you all the things that Jack’s done, ‘twould fill a book, but I’ll tell you this much as we’re a-walkin’ over, that Jack Brown’s one of the best. He’s rode the range when there weren’t any fences, and as he says – “the northern boundary was the Aurora Borealis and the southern boundary was the Gulf of Mexico, with nothin’ in the way but a prairie dog town and a blizzard”. Yes’m, Jack Brown’s been a cowboy, a stage coach driver, and now for the last eighteen years a guide here at Glacier Park. But I want Jack to talk to you himself. If you can get him started it’s better’n a show. He’s got a string of stories as long as your arm, that … well, as Mark Twain said, “It’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, only it’s been stretched a little bit”,  – but they sure are interesting. Wait a minute and I’ll call him over. Hi there, Jack!

Jack Brown sauntered over to meet Mrs. Lathrop, and the Old Timer introduced them to each other.

OLD TIMER:            (CHUCKLES)  Jack, Mrs. Lathrop here wants to know something about the West as she used to be in the old days, and I told her I thought you could oblige her. She opines that there ain’t any west any more except in the movies.

MRS. LATHROP:     Well, of course, when I told the Old Timer that, I hadn’t seen you, but the sight of that gun of yours rather took me a-back. You don’t use it any more, do you?

JACK:                        Well, ma’am, the human coyotes are pretty well muzzled, but there still are some bear around.

This comment about bears put Mrs. Lathrop into a tizzy, but Jack calmed her down again with a little tale about an old friend of his:

JACK:                        No need to get scared, ma’am. There ain’t any around here, but there are some way back in the mountains and they ain’t to be trifled with. Reminds me of a story that a friend of mine told me when he come back from his first bear huntin’ trip. 'Pears like he fell asleep with his gun alongside of him, kinda bein’ wore out with walkin’, an’ he woke up to find a big black bear a-nuzzlin’ him. This here chap allowed like he clean forgot his gun and only thought of legs. The only tree in sight was a sycamore with one branch about 25 feet up in the air. He jumped for it, an’ as he told me, he said, “By golly’s I missed it goin’ up, but I got it comin’ down.”

That type of yarn was a staple for the dude wranglers, but it was only a warm-up for the one that Jack Brown was gearing up for. Mrs. Lathrop eventually commented on her impression of cowboys and the like, and how they must have been mighty rough and ornery, always riding around shooting things up, and “preying on the poor and defenseless.” Brown took exception to this view, and tried to reel her back in a little.

JACK:                        Ma’am, that’s just one statement that I’ll have to take exception to. There wasn’t no kinder nor more generous bunch of fellers than the old cowboys. They treated all women as honorable and polite as if they were their own sisters or mothers. The way I figger it, the real chivalry had just about died out in most every place except in the west. Reckon women folks was so scarce that when we did run across one, we treated her like she was mighty fine and precious. I could tell you a story of cowboys that would make you think different I guess.

Yes, Jack – do go on. Tell us a story.

Jack Brown sporting his Dude Wrangler get-up.
Author's collection

To transition from the lobby of Glacier Park Hotel to the scene of Brown’s story, Marc Williams was enlisted to sing an old cowboy song. The continuity does not specify which song it was, but Williams recorded quite a number of old cowboy tunes in those days – it could have been just about any one of them. The new scene in the radio play took the listeners to a conversation between three old-time Montana cowboys. The men were chatting about their imminent payday, and plans they had for blowing their money in a hurry.

The next morning found the three cowboys with their pay, and riding toward town to spend it all. Along the way they came across a watering hole they commonly used for their cattle and horses. One of the men saw there was a homesteader set up right near the watering hole, and declared this could only mean trouble. Talk about homesteaders quickly devolved to dire predictions of farmers fencing the land, cutting off the cowboys from the open range they’d grown to count on. It wasn’t long at all before the three cowhands convinced themselves it was a proper plan to give the homesteaders a hard time about it. But as they neared the house, they spied a pretty young lady at the door. Their collective mood and strategies quickly softened. As they rode up to the house, one the men called out to the pretty young woman.

RED:                     (CALLING)  Howdy, ma’am. Kin we water our hosses at yore water hole?

PEGGY:                 Yes, of course. (Voices up)  When we homesteaded here we never wanted or expected to cut anyone off from the water.

SHORTY:              N-n-n-n-nesters, ain’t you?

PEGGY:                 Nesters! That’s what people around here call us! We’ve come all the way from Indiana because we thought there was a better chance out here to farm. And – we heard the west was friendly. And now all they call us is – nesters! Please take your water and – go.

Shorty, the stuttering cow hand, was the first to drop his guard and resort to name-calling, but the others still held their grudges and distrust of the homesteaders, too. Despite their desire to get on the good side of the pretty young lady, they failed to make a good first impression. But all was not lost. They quickly tried to rebound from their initial misstep. Dan took the lead.

DAN:                     Now listen, you fellers. We’re off on the wrong foot. These people got a right to live just the same as we have. What I say is, let’s start in all over again and introduce ourselves proper. Ma’am, my name is Dan Smithers, and these here fellers are known to their friends as Red and Shorty.

Enemies carry far less value than friends, particularly on the lonesome Montana rangeland, so Peggy accepted the olive branch of Dan’s new approach. This allowed the conversation to open up a bit. Before long, Peggy explained that her father was sick in bed, and badly in need of medical attention. She then added, with a fair amount of embarrassment, that she and her father had only a couple of dollars to their names – quite inadequate to pay a rural doctor to come out to tend to the old man. The three cowpokes practically fell over each other weighing in with how the doctor would come out to care for Peggy’s father, even if it was at the business end of one of their pistols. They assured Peggy they would come back with the doctor, and off they rode toward town.

Vintage postcard, issued by the Great Northern Railway (circa 1910), demonstrating how some industrious Montana homesteaders were getting on.
Author's collection

On the ride to town, the three men began talking themselves, and each other, into pooling their payday money to help Peggy and her father. But they quickly concluded Peggy was likely too proud to simply accept their money as a gift. Then Dan hit on a plan to get her to take it. He would die, and bequeath the pooled money to her. He just didn’t much like the idea of dying, nor letting Peggy believe he had actually died. He had a notion to court her, and being dead, he reckoned, might interfere with that plan.

Red offered up the helpful idea that once the doctor had cared for Peggy’s father, and had delivered to the homesteaders Dan’s money, Dan could just “come back to life.” It was a heck of a plan.

When they got to town, Red and Shorty told Dan to ride around to the back of the Doc’s office and stay out of sight. Then they entered Doc’s place to enlist his aide for the homesteaders. Red and Shorty explained what they needed Doc to do, and how they hoped he would deliver the money that their friend Dan had left to Peggy.

DOCTOR:             Left to her? What do you mean? He isn’t dead is he?

SHORTY:              Well, he’s k-k-k-kind of dead.

RED:                     Yes – kind of.

DOCTOR:             Kind of dead! Say, what is this? If you boys are pulling a practical joke on me, you can just git out of that front door faster than you came in. I’m too busy to be fooled with.

RED:                     Naw, doc, this ain’t a joke. He really is sick – Mr. I mean.

SHORTY:              An’ p-p-p-p-poor D-d-d-d-dan d-d-d-died while we was a-comin’ in to town. And here’s his m-m-m-money. (Clink of bag being dropped on table)

DOCTOR:             You mean to say that all this is just Dan’s money? Never knew a cow puncher to save like this before.

RED:                     Well, you see, doc, we – ah – we ….

SHORTY:              Yeah, you s-s-s-s-s-s-see . . . . . (Brief pause)

The boys were probably pretty average cow hands, and much, much worse actors. Doc saw through them and sized them up as “a bunch of fools, but you ain’t bad fools at that.” He grabbed his medical bag and immediately rode out to the homestead house by the watering hole.

In the meantime, Red and Shorty called Dan in to Doc’s house, where Dan let the fellas know he was having a mighty severe case of change-of-heart: he didn’t much care for being dead.

DAN:                     I’m goin’ to ride after the doc, an’ wait till he gives her the money, an’ she’s accepted it. And then I’m a-goin’ to ride up an’ break the glad tidings that I’m not dead after all!

SHORTY:              I shore hope they’ll be g-g-g-g-glad tidings!

RED:                     Cuss it, if you had a eddication, Dan, you’d hev almost as much sense as a prairie dog!

DAN:                     You kin talk all you blame please, but me – I’m goin!

The doctor arrived at the homestead first. After he had a chance to see to Peggy’s father, he explained what he knew of the cockeyed story the cowhands had laid on him.

DOCTOR:             You see, Miss Peggy, they were ashamed to ride back and give it to you, so they fixed it up with me to bring the money out; and pretended that Dan had died and left it to you in his will. Drat it! No more sense than children!

Peggy was taken aback by the kindness and generosity of the men, but she told the doctor she just couldn’t take the money. He responded by insisting she couldn’t do anything else – it would break their hearts if she declined their help. Peggy admitted to having a fondness for her new friends, and hoped that Dan wouldn’t stay “dead.” The doctor had his own expectations on the subject.

DOCTOR:             Humph! He won’t stay dead. He ain’t got that much sense. … You know, Miss Peggy, those cow punchers may talk rough, but underneath there ain’t a kinder bunch of men livin’.

PEGGY:                 I know that – now. I’ll thank God for them always, and so will Daddy. You’re sure he’ll be all right, doctor?

DOCTOR:             Of course he will. Don’t forget – give him one of those pills every two hours.

PEGGY:                 And – we do appreciate it you’re coming way out here.

DOCTOR:             Oh, tush, tush girl, that’s my job!

PEGGY:                 If – if you should see Dan – Mr. Smithers – you might tell him that I’ll always be grateful for his – his dying for me.

Moments later, Dan rode up. We were left to assume a happy ending, as another musical bridge took the radio listeners back to the trio of Jack Brown, Mrs. Lathrop, and the Old Timer. Mrs. Lathrop challenged Brown about the real identity of the cowhands in his story – she suspected one of the three was actually him.

JACK:                    Well, aside from the fact that my hair ain’t red, and I don’t stammer, and my name ain’t Dan I might have been. We’re all young and foolish – once.

OLD TIMER:        The kind of fools the west is still full of! Yes sir, still full o’ that kind o’ fools, Jack Brown, and I’m darn glad of it. I’ll eat my whiskers if that ain’t so!

The continuity came to a close at this point. I am missing the first page of the continuity, with its opening remarks by announcer Ted Pearson. I’m also of the impression there was some sort of closing announcement, possibly with some updated comments about the Old Timer’s vacation tour of Glacier Park. However, the continuity that I’ve located comes to an abrupt close with the standard sign-off by Ted Pearson:

ANNOUNCER:  You have been listening to Empire Builders, a presentation of the Great Northern Railway.

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