310413 – Mushy of Hell’s Gate Mine

Recording status:  Recorded, not located

 

As noted, this broadcast was among those that the Great Northern Railway paid to be recorded off the air back in 1931. Unfortunately, this recording has not been located, and probably never will be. I do have a copy of the continuity, but certain pages are missing. However, I also have a copy of the press release for this program, as well as a compilation of general comments received by the GN after it aired.

Here is the essential portion of the press release, prepared by the GN’s Harold M. Sims:

               “Mushy of Hell’s Gate Mine,” a melodrama with its locale in a California mining camp, will be presented by Empire Builders Monday night.

               The hero of the story is a motherless boy who clears his father’s name and whose longing for a mother is finally fulfilled. The story, replete with heart interest, was written by Ruby Wagner of Empire, California.

               The cast includes Harvey Hays as the Old Timer, who tells the story; Master Donald McLean in the title role; Don Ameche as the father; and Miss Lucille Husting as the daughter of the mine superintendent.

The one name that jumps out for me here is, of course, that of “Master Donald McLean.” I suspect his radio career was brief. Thus far, I’ve located very, very little about him. One source mentioned that he was, at the time of this broadcast, a freshman at Chicago’s Nicholas Senn High School. Beyond that, I am so far at a loss.

The specific pages missing from the copy of the continuity that I have include those containing the opening and closing credits. The script picks up after a musical bridge transitioning to a scene onboard a Great Northern train. The Old Timer was in a conversation with a man and woman who appeared to be travelling west for the first time, and before long the woman was beseeching the Old Timer for a tale of California, complete with elements of gold, and romance, and villains, and…. The Old Timer said he had just the story, and when pressed for a title, announced that it was the story of “Mushy of Hell’s Gate Mine.” To set the stage for the tale, the Old Timer explained the following:

OLD TIMER:        (Chuckle)  All right, now – here we go. Mush was about eight years old. Son o’ Lou Barclay, who was a driller at Hell’s Gate gold mine, down in the Mother Lode country in California and that boy was just the pest o’ the whole camp. Lou’s wife had died when Mushy was ‘bout five years old, an’ there was just the two of ‘em left – the two of ‘em, an’ Hero, Mushy’s dog. Hero was kind of part spaniel an’ part bloodhoun’ – with mebbe a dash o’ setter an’ terrier, but he was a good dog, an’ Mush an’ him loved each other. Now, just before this story starts, Lou had got fired at Hell’s Gate Mine, an’ he didn’t know what to do. Mr. Allison, the Superintendent, was kind of a hard-boiled feller, an’ there wasn’t a chance o’ Lou’s gittin’ took back. But then Bob Turner, boss driller got sick one night, an’ Mr. Allison had to have somebody to take his place for the night shift. So Lou got back on the job again – just to fill in.

(MUSIC UP AND FADE TO SUBDUED RATTLE OF DISHES BEING WASHED)

The next scene had Mushy and his father, Lou Barclay, washing dishes after supper. Mushy shared his disappointment that his daddy had to work the night shift. His father assured his son that he was grateful to even be back on the job for that temporary assignment. Mushy then revealed something about his father’s firing, by claiming his own guilt for getting his father fired.

MUSHY:               It was all on account o’ me an’ Hero too. ‘F we hadn’t chased a rabbit in front o’ Martin Kratz’s pack-mule, Mr. Allison wouldn’t ‘ve fired you.

BARCLAY:            Don’t you worry about that, sonny.

MUSH:                 An’ then the darned ol’ mule got scared an’ fell off the mountain side. How’d we know he was loaded with dynamite?

BARCLAY:            Sure. You didn’t know. Well, Martin Kratz is an old grouch. I don’t like livin’ next door to him, either.

MUSHY:               Yes, he gets mad when Hero an’ me sing.

BARCLAY:            When you sing?

MUSHY:               Yes. When we get lonesome at night when you’re gone, we just lay here an’ look out that window at the stars up there, an’ we sing. They’s one star up there that’s mamma’s. It winks at us, an’ we sing to it.

Aw shucks… poor little kid! Mushy spied his Mamma’s star in the sky and pointed it out to his father. Then the boy suddenly asked why “Miss Sally” didn’t come by to see them anymore. His father gently explained that, being the boss’s daughter, Miss Sally Allison was not able to visit a man who had just been fired.

Just before Barclay headed out for his night shift, little Mushy offered to come by in the morning and bring his daddy some coffee and “sinkers.” Barclay told his son that would be fine – he would be working in shaft No. 1. Then he said good-bye to his boy and headed out to work his shift.

Mushy and his dog, Hero, were soon baying at the moon together, and grumpy old Martin Kratz next door got riled up. Mushy tried to quiet Hero, who kept growling and snarling at the curmudgeonly neighbor. Kratz hurled a frying pan at Hero, who got even more worked up and snarled all the more energetically at old Kratz.

Fortunately, Miss Sally showed up just about then and helped diffuse the situation before there was bloodshed. But now for Mushy it was “Miss Allison” – to which a puzzled Miss Sally replied to Mushy “It used to be ‘Sally.’ What’s the matter?” Mushy explained that he thought she must be mad at him and his father, because she stopped coming by to see them. Sally tried to explain that she couldn’t, because her father forbade it. Then Mushy let on that he and his father were leaving soon, which seemed to take Sally by surprise. When she asked why, Mushy said it was because his father had been fired. He described the whole sordid mess about Hero chasing a rabbit, and sending a wagonload of dynamite over a cliff, and so on. Sally told Mushy she had to be going, but first she bent down and gave Mushy a little good-night kiss. Mushy asked her why she was crying, but Sally just said good-bye and left him.

Meanwhile, with a little musical break to transition us to the mine shaft, Mushy’s dad Lou Barclay was busy setting some dynamite with a co-worker named Joe. The fuse was lit, and the two men started to run to a safe location. Lou predicted this was going to be a particularly fruitful blast.

After the explosion died down, the two men went back into the mine shaft with ventilator equipment and began extracting the dust and smoke. As the air cleared, the two men were astonished by the impressive chunks of gold exposed by the blast. Barclay sent Joe up to fetch old man Allison, knowing he would be very pleased by this turn of events. Lou cautioned Joe not to arouse any attention from Kratz, who was working in a nearby area.

It was after sunrise now, and Mushy (accompanied by his faithful dog, Hero) dutifully appeared at the mine with coffee and donuts for his father. But the path to the mine took Mushy and Hero right past Kratz, who was still determined to do the dog in. Barclay was close enough to hear their voices, and came to his boy’s rescue.

BARCLAY:            Here, here, what’s this? What are you up to, Kratz?

MUSHY:               He’s gone, daddy! He was tryin’ to kick Hero, and Hero got mad, and when Old Kratz seen you comin’, he run. Here’s your breakfast, daddy.

BARCLAY:            Thank you, Mushy. Say, here comes Mr. Allison. If he sees you here, he’ll raise Cain. You better scoot, now. I’ll be home soon. Scoot!  (PAUSE)  Good morning, Mr. Allison.

Mr. Allison was duly dumbfounded by the rich display of gold that awaited him. Joe said he had been mining 30 years and had never seen anything to equal it. Then Mr. Allison asked to see the other chunk – Joe told him there were two large chunks of gold. Barclay turned to point to the second chunk of gold, but it was gone! The next few minutes in the mine were largely dominated by Barclay defending himself against various accusations of theft or other underhandedness. Just then, Kratz reappeared.

KRATZ:                 Hey, Mr. Allison!

ALLISON:             Well, Kratz?

KRATZ:                 I vas in de next room – me an’ Hazy Jones, my pardner. I see Choe go out, an’ den I hear dis Barclay talkin’ mit his kid here –

ALLISON:             Is this true, Barclay?

BARCLAY:            Yes – er – no – er –

ALLISON:             Make up your mind, Barclay.

You can probably see where this is going. Kratz gleefully taunted Barclay as he tried in vain to explain the strange turn of events. Allison decided he had no choice but to detain Barclay up at his office until things were straightened out. Kratz helpfully suggested Barclay thought a big chunk of gold would help offset the loss of his job.

While the boss escorted Barclay up to the office, Kratz and his mining partner, Hazy Jones, got back to their pursuits. Kratz grumped about wanting to wrap up their work so they could go fishing. As the two men dealt with a wheelbarrow full of shavings, and a pile of 2-by-4’s, they both heard a disconcerting noise. It was Mushy’s dog, Hero, growling off somewhere nearby, but the men couldn’t make out the origin of the unsuspected sound back in their mine. They both got scared and ran off. Then Mushy launched into a narrative that did much to move along the story line.

MUSHY:               (CHUCKLES)  We scared ‘em, Hero, didn’t we? Gosh, the floor o’ that old mine car’s hard. Come on, let’s see what they brought up here.  (DOG WHINES)  Hum! Shavins! An’ pieces o’ two-by-four. Wonder what they’re up to. Gee, I wish Daddy was here! Lay down, Hero! We gotta be detec-atives, Hero, you an’ me. Let’s look around here in this pile o’ shavin’s they left. Detect-atives always do that. Wonder why these pieces o’ two-by-four’s all muddy?  (SOUND OF WOOD AS HE KICKS IT AROUND.)  Hey, what you got there, Hero? Give it here? Oooooo! Look, Hero! You know what that is there? You know?  (DOG WHINES)  It’s gold! Now what – say I bet I know! Yes, sir, Hero! That’s what! Look where they been borin’ holes in pieces o’ two-by-four! An’ the holes is all plugged up with mud! Let’s git the mud out!  (SCRAPING)  Yes, sir, it is gold! They’ve bored holes in these two-by-fours an’ put the gold in little chunks an’ then plugged up the holes with mud! So they’re goin’ fishin’ this afternoon! We’ll follow ‘em, Hero. Follow ‘em – like real detec-atives, an’ I bet we’ll ketch ‘em, too! C’mon, let’s go home an’ git somethin’ to eat an’ then git back quick. Come on!

(RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. DOG BARKS, RECEDING. FADE TO MUSIC WHICH FADES OUT TO FOOTSTEPS OF BOY ON ROCK AND EAGER WHINING OF DOG.)

Mushy and Hero left the mine but soon stumbled upon Kratz and Jones as they talked about their plans. Mushy heard Kratz tell Jones that as soon as all their gold was melted, they’d take it to Sacramento. Jones let on that he was afraid of getting caught. Kratz laughed at him, and called Allison a dumb fool for believing that Lou Barclay took the gold.

Being that this was radio after all, Mushy had to tell his dog Hero – very quietly, of course – what he was witnessing. Only by having that dialog could the audience understand what was plain to the boy, but was not being said by the crooks. Mushy told Hero he heard the men talk about his Daddy having to go to jail, while they drove off to Sacramento. Then Mushy spied a fire, and suddenly realized the men were going to melt the gold they had skimmed. All of this excitement was apparently too much for Hero to contain. He began to bark. The crooks launched out after little Mushy and his dog. Things turned ugly. And violent. Remarkably violent, considering this was a network radio show. These crooks were MEAN.

KRATZ:                 Here, you liddle brat! You vould shpy on us, vould you! I kill you, by golly! Take dot!  (SOUND OF BLOW)  How how you like it, huh?

MUSHY:               (GROANS)

                              DOG ARRIVES SNARLING ETC.

KRATZ:                 Git away from here! I kill you, sure! Git avay!  (DOG SNARLS LOUDLY)  I bust your head!  (SOUND OF BLOW)  Hah. Dot fix you, pooch!

HAZY:                   Okay, Kratz?

KRATZ:                 Chass. I haf busted kid und dog too. Ve beat it now, qvick! You git de gold in de fliffer, now, und ve go – right avay, ‘fore somebody comes!

The sound effects boys worked up the motor of an old flivver starting up and driving off. This was accompanied by the moans of both Mushy and his faithful dog. Mushy told Hero, “Stay with me. Somebody’ll come – and – get – us.”

The scene shifted back to Allison’s office, where Sally was doing her darnedest to convince her father that Lou Barclay was too good, too honest, to have stolen the big chunk of gold. He allowed that he tended to believe her. Then he asked what had become of Barclay’s kid.

SALLY:                  That’s what I came up here to tell you. Mrs. White saw him going up Hell’s Gate canyon this afternoon early with his dog, and he hasn’t come back. Here it is after eight, and I’m worried.

ALLISON:             Darn the whole Barclay family, anyway! Here Lou gets in a mess about stolen gold, and then his kid runs away! Well, I suppose there’s nothing else to do. I’ll get some of the men out after him.

SALLY:                  I wish you would, father. I’m so worried about him!

ALLISON:             All right! Hey, Charlie, Joe! Jim! Come here!

SALLY:                  And, listen, father, you’ll let Lou go along, won’t you?

Allison’s first reaction was to flat out refuse to allow Barclay to go anywhere. Under the withering pressure of his persistent daughter, however, Allison relented.

ALLISON:             Oh, all right, darn it. I wonder who’s superintendent of this mine anyway. Hey, you men, get together (FADING) and let’s get started out after Lou Barclay’s boy. He’s lost and –

SALLY:                  (CALLS)  I’ll go get Lou, Father.

ALLISON:             (OFF)  All right, hurry though.

                              MUSIC UP AND FADE

The hunt was on. Sally joined Lou in searching for little Mushy. As Barclay repeatedly called out his boy’s name, Allison appeared on the scene. He was surprised – and a bit peeved –  to find Sally there. He barked at her to return to the mine. “All alone in the dark, father?” she asked. Seems she had her father wrapped pretty well around her little finger. He relented to her wishes. Again.

One of the men came up to Allison and reported to him that they were not making any progress – they’d looked everywhere, and there simply was no sign of Mushy or his dog. Allison urged Barclay to call out Mushy’s name again. This time, the men heard the far off sound of Hero barking. The rescue party all ran to the source of the barking, calling out Mushy’s name again. The little boy responded weakly, and they found him huddled up on the ground by a big rock.

BARCLAY:            THANK God! Are you all right, Mushy? Here, somebody bring a lantern.

MUSHY:               I’m all right, daddy, ‘cept my head hurts where old Kratz hit me. An’ Hero’s foot’s hurt, too, but he stayed with me. Didn’t you, Hero?  (DOG BARKS)

Oh my. I’m thinking old Kratz has just ginned up one whale of a ticked off enemy. Allison came up to the father and son, and asked how the boy was. Barclay said Mushy was hurt – Kratz hit him. This enraged Mr. Allison, too. He wanted to know what the boy had been doing.

MUSHY:               We found the gold, Mr. Allison.

ALLISON:             What! You found the gold?

MUSHY:               Yes, sir. Old Kratz and Hazy Jones have got it. They put it in two-by-fours and they brought it up here in a flivver and they were melting it over there; and then Hero barked and they found us, and Kratz hit me –

Well, well, well – NOW we’re getting somewhere. They asked Mushy if he had any idea where Kratz and Jones had lit off to, and the boy told them: “I heard ‘em say something about Sac-a-ra-mentio, Mr. Allison.” Allison declared that a wire to the authorities in Sacramento would ensure the two crooks were captured and jailed. He then got all magnanimous an announced that Mushy had just earned himself a $500 reward for his astute detective work. Mushy politely thanked Mr. Allison, but then he boldly asked for something else.

MUSHY:               Will you hire my daddy back again?

BARCLAY:            Mushy.

ALLISON:             Will I? Well, you just bet! He’s going to be day foreman from now on!

With its primary goal accomplished, the rescue party broke up and everyone headed back to their separate destinations. Sally joined Lou as the relieved father carried his sleepy little boy back toward home. When they were nearly there, Mushy awoke, and asked to be set down. He wanted to go look at the lights with Hero (the lights of the town, I suppose – it doesn’t much matter, but the script didn’t specify). What this served to do was to give Sally and Lou a moment to talk. Lou thanked Sally for being so helpful in the search for Mushy and Hero. Sally shrugged off this attention by explaining “well, you know, I love Mushy, Lou.” Barclay played this up, and before long he dragged it out of Sally that she loved him too. Moments later (the thirty minutes of the show almost being used up, and all),the two were engaged to be married. Mushy had his fill of looking at lights and came back to the couple.

 MUSHY:              (APPROACHING)  Daddy, aren’t you and Miss Sally about ready – Daddy! Miss Sally! Aw, look, Hero, Daddy’s kissin’ her!  (PAUSE)  Well, come on, Hero, let’s go home!

MUSIC UP AND FADE FOR CREDIT.

As I mentioned at the outset, my copy of the continuity is missing a couple of pages. The closing credits are part of what’s missing – that’s the end of it. The feedback received about this broadcast seemed to be predominately positive, but rather generalized. Still, here are a few examples:

The radio program of April 13^th was very well received in this territory, much better than it has been for some weeks back. Everybody who heard it seemed to enjoy it very much and we have heard some very favorable comments.

E.A. Dye, GN Agent, Vancouver, B.C.

 

The story of “Mushy” and his dog as related by Empire Builders last Monday night was one that was rich in human interest and appeal. The parts were all excellently played and the story proved of unusual interest here in Northern California. From the many comments we hear I do not believe there is any question but that our radio broadcasts are serving us very well in keeping our line and service before the public.

A.L. Scott, GN Agent, San Francisco, Calif.

I listened in on your program Monday night and enjoyed it very much, especially the part of “Mushy.” Let us have some more of “Mushy.”

Rita Latz, Buffalo, N.Y.

 

So there you have it. We weren’t there. We couldn’t listen to the show. The broadcast was recorded, but no one knows what became of the recording. It’s probably lost for good. But at least we have a pretty solid idea of the story, and at least a few people who did hear the show thought it was good enough to take the time to write to the railroad and let them know it.

 

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

 

 

310406 - Shoes of Eloquence

 

Recording Status:  Recorded, not circulating

In my efforts to document the story of the Empire Builders radio series, I’ve encountered many challenges. Among these are my sometimes frustrated attempts to learn the names and roles of performers, and in many cases, to ascribe the correct story name or title to the broadcasts. Quite often the broadcasts were prepared and performed with no formal name, nor even a topic reference. In the Great Northern corporate records (voluminous) and NBC records (sparse) that I’ve viewed, many broadcasts were referenced by no more than the expected air date. And of course, as I’ve reported in earlier blog posts, airdates were not immune to last-minute changes.

In the case of this night’s program, I am pleased to be able to report, with complete confidence, the specific title to the story: “Shoes of Eloquence.” I’ll admit, that title sounds mighty odd to me (how, exactly, can footwear be “eloquent”?), but there is no doubt whatsoever that this story had that name.

Joseph Blethen, age 42 (circa 1912)

The author was a man named Alden Joseph Blethen, Jr. – although he seems to have settled for simply “Joseph” Blethen. He was born on April 16, 1870, and at the time of this radio broadcast was reported to be a resident of San Francisco. My limited research into the life story of Mr. Blethen indicates this was the son of Alden J. Blethen (1845-1915), who took over the fledgling Seattle Press-Times newspaper in 1896, renaming it the Seattle Daily Times, and later, the Seattle Times.

Alden Joseph Blethen, Sr. (circa 1900)

To this day, there are fourth- and fifth-generation Blethens running that venerated paper. For many years, residents of the Seattle metropolitan area had two major newspapers available to them: the morning Seattle Post-Intelligencer (or simply, Seattle P-I), and the afternoon Times. For a variety of reasons (notably the evolution of the availability of news content on the internet, and assertions that a news writer’s strike created significant financial losses), the Seattle P-I closed the doors on its printed newspaper several years ago (2009), living on now primarily as an internet-only news source. I don’t mean to pass this off as a study of either the history or the current state of affairs of the print news business, but suffice it to say, it’s a notable achievement to have successfully operated a newspaper in a major West Coast metropolitan market for over 120 years.

It’s also worth noting – and relevant to this night’s fiction –  that the Blethen family tree stretched back to the earliest days of European inhabitation of what became this country. Blethens figured prominently in the Quaker population of early Massachusetts, notably in the Salem area. And prior to that, there was apparently some impressive lineage back to England – including significant titled wealth and social prominence. As you read on about this night’s play, you will see how the author’s story may well have drawn on the history of his own family for its inspiration.

Joseph Blethen was no stranger to writing fiction, having published a number of stories in such magazines as the Saturday Evening Post, McClure’s, and several others. Like several other authors of stories for the Empire Builders radio series, it is not clear what the arrangements were that caused his story to come to the attention of Harold Sims or others at the railroad. His story was not, however, one of the submissions for the radio story contest conducted by the GN the previous summer.

So… enough about newspapers and Blethens. I have not yet been able to access the recording of this broadcast, but it does live on as one of almost two dozen Empire Builders broadcasts to have surfaced on old (and not very high quality) reel-to-reel tapes, apparently transferred about thirty years ago from the original aluminum disc air check recordings. There is currently an effort underway to preserve these rare recordings digitally. In the meantime, I do have a copy of the continuity for this program, as well as a copy of the original press release. Here is the principal content of the press release:

“Shoes of Eloquence,” replete with the atmosphere of San Francisco’s Chinatown, is the story which the Old Timer tells on the Empire Builders dramatic half hour Monday night.

Incidentally, the Old Timer’s tale helps Ann Temple, an Eastern society girl with seafaring ancestors, to decide between Henry Van Dyke, wealthy aristocrat, and Joe Cortez, a poor but go-getting native son of California.

The cast, besides Harvey Hays, as the Old Timer, will include Miss Lucille Husting as Ann Temple and Don Ameche as Joe Cortez. The musical setting which will include a Chinese orchestra was arranged by Josef Koestner, musical director of the Empire Builders productions. Joseph Blethen of San Francisco is the author.

The program’s continuity opens with the usual announcement of the show, followed by the efforts of the sound effects team and the studio orchestra as the Empire Builder train went speeding along. Here’s how that looked in the continuity:

ANNOUNCER:    The Great Northern Railway presents EMPIRE BUILDERS!

MUSIC UP A AND B. SEGUE TO SPEEDING TRAIN EFFECTS UP AND OUT. MUSIC UP AND FADE FOR CREDIT.

I wish I knew what was meant by “MUSIC UP A AND B.” I’ve encountered that phrase a number of times in other continuities. As for the “credit,” this was the opening announcement by Ted Pearson, and one of two opportunities utilized each week during the broadcast to promote the railroad. The radio broadcast was thus bookended with the opening and closing credits. Here is what Ted Pearson announced to the listening audience as the opening credit:

ANNOUNCER:

               Steadily the gleaming new rails of the Great Northern march on to California and the hills of San Francisco. Before another year passes, the Empire Builder will roar triumphantly down from the North to its terminus in the city the padres dedicated to Saint Francis. San Francisco! A golden name, and a romantic one in the storied padres of the West! From the water-front with its ships from far-off lands to the heights of Telegraph Hill … from Mount Tamalpais and the Golden Gate across the bay to Oakland and Berkeley’s campanile … its name is Romance! It is the living virile West and the mystic changeless East that meet in these modern streets! Tonight we bring you a story of San Francisco’s Chinatown – that strange city within a city, where “A golden dragon swallows up the darkness, and the night is crimson-scented with the languor of Cathay … Where deep-tongued gongs boom a dread message from a strange god … Where aged scholars dream over books that were old when the first man set his face toward the west … a little island of the Orient set in a bustling modern city … Come with us, then, and meet the Old Timer and his friends, as the Empire Builder speeds on through the night.

MUSIC UP AND FADE TO INTERIOR TRAIN EFFECTS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first major scene of the radio play consisted of a conversation onboard the Empire Builder train between Henry Van Dyke of Manhattan, New York, thank-you-very-much, and his intended fiancée, Ann Temple (of a well-pedigreed family of Long Island). Before they were (inevitably) joined in conversation by the Old Timer, it was revealed to the listening audience that Van Dyke was quite snobbish, whereas Ann was far more liberal in her thinking on matters of social interaction, and other issues. Van Dyke chastised Ann for her liberal approach to California and the remainder of the West, a part of the country that he felt was unwashed and lacking prestige. He decried Ann’s attitude, telling her “that’s not any too becoming in a member of one of Long Island’s best families!” Ann shot back in her defense – and that of the West.

ANN:                    No? Listen to me a moment, Henry. You have asked me to marry you. To become Mrs. Henry Van Dyke, of the Van Dykes, Manhattan. A great honor, and I respect it. But that isn’t the point. You ask me – Ann Temple, granddaughter of an adventurous Yankee sea captain – to forget all that’s new in life and bury myself in the Van Dyke tradition!

VAN DYKE:          A thing isn’t always worthwhile just because it’s new.

ANN:                    (WITH SPIRIT)  But think of the fun one has discovering whether it is or not! Of facing West, West, always West!

Ann continued with an explanation that her journeys to the west coast to attend conventions in the past couple of years had opened her eyes to the beauties of the land, and had awakened in her an appreciation for its people. As she put it, she had discovered that “California is really a part of American life.” Van Dyke was both unimpressed, and clearly bigoted.

VAN DYKE:          And it will be more American when it drops a lot of those Spanish names. (SARCASTICALLY)  San Francisco! San Ho-zay. La Hoy-ya! Los Ang-he-layz! Santa Barbara! Everything’s a San or a Ho!

ANN:                    (LAUGHING MISCHIEVOUSLY)  Delightful!

VAN DYKE:          Oh, undoubtedly! Anything Spanish pleases you. Take your new friend whom you met in San Francisco a year or so ago, for instance. Mr. Joe Cortez! Rightly pronounced, his name is Ho-zay, I’ll bet a hat!

ANN:                    Rightly pronounced, his name is Mister Joe Go-getter Cortez! He is on his way, that boy!

VAN DYKE:          A native Son, of course!

ANN:                    Oh, naturally! That’s another good thing about California. You only have to be born there once to be a Native Son. Back on dear old Long Island it’s different. Unless you are a Van, or something, with at least ten generations behind you, you’re an interloper!

As I explained earlier, the Great Northern Railway was not shy about injecting comments at the beginning and ending of the radio broadcasts as a form of advertising for their trains. Nor did they hesitate to inject comments of a marketing nature in the dialog itself. And who better to provide this manner of thinly-veiled promotion than the Old Timer himself. It was about this point in the story that he happened to enter the car in which Ann and Henry were conversing. Ann made an off-handed remark about what a pleasant surprise it was to see him.

OLD TIMER:        Nothin’ surprising about my being on the Empire Builder, Miss Temple. I’m always travelin’ round this part of the country – and there just ain’t no better way to travel, you know.

Ann commented on the beauty and brightness of the moonlight on Puget Sound. The Old Timer eagerly agreed with her.

OLD TIMER:        Indeed I have! I’ve been watchin’ it for the last half-hour. This ride along Puget Sound is one o’ the finest parts o’ the whole Great Northern. Just look at them islands out there. And all them busy lumber-mills along here, with ships waitin’ to go out across the ocean to Japan an’ China, an’ -----.

With the sound of authentic train whistle, located up on the roof of the Merchandise Mart and its sound piped into the broadcast through a remote microphone, the Old Timer declared they all ought to take one last good look at the salt water of Puget Sound, and the eastbound Empire Builder they were on was approaching the depot at Everett, Washington. The Old Timer mentioned that he was expecting to meet a friend of his transferring from another train coming in from Vancouver, B.C. It was a young San Francisco chap: “He’s an advertisin’ man I know – and he’s a real go-getter!”

 

This vintage postcard has a postmark of 1912, so the scene is many years earlier than our story. Still, it provides a useful view of the GN depot at Everett, Washington, and the two-tiered track arrangement, close to the Everett waterfront.
Author's collection

What do you suppose the odds are that it’s Joe Cortez? The Empire Builder pulled to a stop at the Everett depot. The Old Timer’s friend jumped aboard and greeted him.

OLD TIMER:        Oh, here you are, Joseph, my boy! Glad you made it.

JOE CORTEZ:       Hello, Old Timer! You bet I made it! Made something else too! I got that big furniture manufacturing account I told you about! This furniture business is getting to be one of the coast’s biggest industries.

OLD TIMER:        Say, that’s fine! Sort of justifying your hurried trip North, eh?

JOE CORTEZ:       In one way, yes. But as you know very well there’s something besides advertising accounts on my mind.  (CONFIDENTIALLY)  Tell me, Old Timer: Did a certain party make this train?

OLD TIMER:        Per schedule, my son.

Well, well, well… Looks like there’s a certain young lady in the crosshairs of more than just the one suitor, then. And it was clear the Old Timer was playing favorites in this contest. He tipped Cortez to the news that he was not without a rival in this quest, and that rival was in fact onboard this very train too.

OLD TIMER:        But wait a minute. I’ve something to tell you. That’s why I come up front!

JOE CORTEZ:       (CONCERNED)  What’s the matter? Nothing wrong, I hope?

OLD TIMER:        Depends on how you look at it. That famous big game hunter, Mr. Henry Van Dyke, of the Van Dykes of New Amsterdam, old Amsterdam and a few other dams, is aboard, too.

JOE CORTEZ:       (SURPRISED)  What! Henry Van Dyke! Here! Why, I thought he was hunting bear way up on Kodiak Island!

OLD TIMER:        (LAUGHING)  Maybe the bears failed to recognize him. Anyhow, he’s here.

Joe suggested they ought to head to the observation car straight away. This is how the continuity laid out the directions to the sound effects boys and Mr. Koestner’s orchestra:

(TRAIN SOUNDS UP AND DOWN ALTERNATELY AS THEY PASS THROUGH THE CARS. SPOT VESTIBULE SOUNDS AND DOORS? IF POSSIBLE. FADE TO LONG TRANSITION MUSIC, WHICH FADES TO INTERIOR TRAIN SOUNDS.)

Joe and the Old Timer met back up with Ann and Henry. The Old Timer talked about how he had introduced Joe and Ann in San Francisco’s Chinatown only a year ago. Henry received this detail coldly. It wasn’t long before the Old Timer offered up another of his ubiquitous stories.

OLD TIMER:        I wonder how you folks would like to hear a Chinese yarn right now, while we’re speedin’ along toward that 8-mile tunnel o’ the Great Northern’s under these Cascade Mountains?

With another sly plug for the good ‘ol GN, the Old Timer laid the groundwork for his tale. He explained that it was a true story, and that it involved a fellow the men knew by the name of Bentley Marbold – “of the Marbold Bank people.” Ooh-la-la. Even the snooty Henry Van Dyke was listening now.

OLD TIMER:        You see, this story concerns Bentley Marbold and the old Chinese house man, Moy Sam, that Bentley sort o’ inherited from his father, along with the Marbold fortune.

VAN DYKE:          Funny name.

OLD TIMER:        I s’pose Sam’d thought Van Dyke was a kinda funny name. Well – this story concerns two other important characters. I’ll call them little Two Shoes.

JOE CORTEZ:       Chinese shoes, Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        Nope they were American. And real shoes. The first pair that Bentley Marbold ever wore.

The Old Timer described Bentley Marbold’s father as “Boss-man,” the term by which Moy Sam the “Chinese house man” referred to him. There were also comments about how loyal and dedicated Moy Sam was to the Marbold family, and how he continued to refer to the late Colonel Marbold as Boss-man even after he passed on. It seems the family estate was located on the peninsula south of San Francisco. Young Bentley left the estate to live at his club in the city. Moy Sam was left in charge of the big empty house. He became lonely there. It was Sam’s hope that Bentley would find a wife, they’d have a family, and the estate would once more be filled with happy voices and children playing in the poppy fields – just as Bentley had done in the days when Sam was still new to his employment there. Bentley became a very successful business man in San Francisco, and old Moy Sam was losing hope of Bentley’s prospects for marriage. Then one day Bentley met a young woman named Julia who was visiting the city. After she went back east, Bentley wrote to her and proposed – but she never replied to him.

The Old Timer went on to explain how Bentley Marbold’s baby shoes, stowed away all those years by Moy Sam, played a part in this story.

OLD TIMER:        So there was Moy Sam, an old man now, alone in the big house. Alone with all those memories, and only two tiny white baby shoes to talk to. And then gradually those two little white shoes began to talk to Moy Sam.

ANN:                    (SOFTLY)  And a dear old Chinaman was just the one to understand. Shoes of Eloquence!

OLD TIMER:        Shoes of Eloquence! That’s right pretty, Miss Ann, and it’s just what they were. Well, one Christmas Eve old Moy Sam, he couldn’t stand it any longer. The shoes was in a silver casket, lined with soft green silk. He wrapped the casket and all in a silk scarf and set out for town – heading for his Joss House.

Don’t know about you, but I had to look it up. The term Joss House was commonly used to refer to a Chinese temple, and was frequently applied to such places of worship attended by Chinese immigrants in ethnic communities such as San Francisco’s Chinatown. Upon hearing of Moy Sam’s trip to the Joss House, Ann interjected, speculating the Chinaman was going there to pray “that the Boss-man’s son should marry.”

OLD TIMER:        No. The old Chinaman was all tired out with praying. He had some kind o’ idea about givin’ the shoes a chance. He intended to show the shoes to his cousin, the scholar, Moy Wong the keeper of the Temple, and beg the Honorable Wong to scroll a prayer for them an’ then burn the prayer-papers on the grating beneath the huge Idol in the Joss House. So to Moy Wong’s study Moy Sam (GOING AWAY FROM THE MIKE)  took the little shoes.

(MUSIC UP IN CHINESE MOTIF, WITH CYMBALS. FADE TO KNOCKING (3 TIMES, SLOWLY) ON DOOR. DOOR OPENS SOFTLY.)

Now the scene switched to the temple, where Moy Sam called upon his cousin, Moy Wong. Sam was politely invited into Moy Wong’s humble abode, and it was soon clear that something was troubling Sam. Moy Wong made him tea to help settle his nerves and calm his spirit, then asked him to share his burdens.

MOY SAM:           He in whose unhappy employment I drag out my days is an unworthy Son. Boss-man Marbold has but a troubled sleep in his grave.

MOY WONG:      These Foreign Devils are a puzzle to serene persons, my cousin. Their Great One said to them “do unto others as you would they would do unto you”. Yet sons forget their fathers.

MOY SAM:           (PROTESTINGLY)  The Great House remains empty! No woman warms it with her smile! No children’s laughter rouses the sleeping echoes of the long corridors! All is emptiness! Emptiness!

MOY WONG:      (GENTLY)  The Son has not yet seen his own eyes look back at him from a child’s face. Blind is he then to his destiny.

MOY SAM:           (VOICE BREAKS)  And Boss-man weeps in his grave!

MOY WONG:      Desolation – indeed! Your Boss-man was a Foreign Devil, but he was a father!

MOY SAM:           I weep! And only these two silent witnesses hear me. Behold!

Moy Sam gently unveiled the two tiny shoes, and explained what they meant to him.

MOY SAM:           These were the Son’s first pair. I have kept them to remind me of my duty.

MOY WONG:      A worthy trust, Most Worthy Cousin. Permit me to stroke their honorable helplessness. Hum! A touching eloquence lies in their very silence. Yea! An eloquence to make strong men think, and to cause gentle women to dream dreams.

MOY SAM:           (EAGERLY)  Then do you scroll a prayer, on vermillion paper. Learned One, that I may burn it before the Joss. And let the prayer be the prayer of these, (VOICE BREAKS) my Two Shoes!

MOY WONG:      (REVERENTLY)  No prayer of my lame scrolling could equal the eloquence of this emptiness! Instead you should hold them high, in reverence before the Idol’s all seeing eyes. Come! I myself will strike on the great gong!

(THREE HEAVY AND VERY DELIBERATE BLOWS ON A HUGE GONG. THREE MORE BLOWS FADING TO BACKGROUND. THREE MORE, FADING TILL THE LAST BLOW IS VERY DIM. SILENCE FOR A FEW SECONDS.)

The radio performance switched back to the Old Timer at that moment, and he described the alarming events that next transpired.

OLD TIMER:        Well, right then things began to happen. That Chinese Joss waked up all right. Waked up, and began to shoot red fire from its big, staring eyes! And at that very minute, right in down-town San Francisco, a real fire broke out.

JOE CORTEZ:       (IN SURPRISE)  A real fire!

OLD TIMER:        Surest thing! And now explain this if you can: The fire was in Bentley Marbold’s own Club! Right in the building where he lived!

The sound effects boys worked up a cacophony of fire sirens and crowd noise. A distraught Bentley Marbold tried in vain to enter the burning building, but a stalwart policeman held him back. Marbold protested vigorously, insisting that he be allowed in – he had a strongbox full of vital papers in his apartment. The desperate Marbold pulled the oldest trick in the book on the surprisingly dense officer – with a shout of “Look! Over there!” Marbold duped the officer into looking away long enough to dash past him – into the burning building!

The next scene of the story found an injured Bentley Marbold being tended to faithfully by Moy Sam. It was revealed that Marbold’s hands were fine, but his face was burned. Moy Sam then tentatively asked Marbold what the strongbox held, to be worth risking his life to save it.

 Marbold found the key and opened the box. At first he seemed satisfied that the papers he knew were in the box were still intact, but then – there were envelopes, unopened, and bearing Marbold’s name in unmistakable feminine script! “It is – it is Julia’s handwriting!” cried Marbold. He tore open the oldest of them: “Dearest Bentley, of course …” Marbold flipped. He went scrambling for a telephone (okay – this part of the story is pretty shaky to me too… these letters were in the box all along, but he didn’t know they were there? And he couldn’t have called Julia on the phone in the first place, to accomplish something as important as propose marriage??). Music and train sounds provided a transition back to the quartet of travelers aboard the Empire Builder.

OLD TIMER:        And so the misunderstanding was cleared up. Julia’s letter had been piled in the box, unopened, with a lot of other papers, and

ANN:                    And so they were married!

OLD TIMER:        (CHUCKLE)  Yes, that’s what happened, Ann.

ANN:                    (SOFTLY)  Beautiful!

VAN DYKE:          Bosh! Merely a co-incidence!

OLD TIMER:        But wait! In due time there came a happy event in the Marbold family. A son and heir appeared to gladden the big house down there on the Peninsula. And right then Moy Sam dressed himself in his best silks, and paraded straight up to the little mother and presented her with the little silver casket with the shoes. And then later he told Bentley the story of the prayer that day in Joss House.

VAN DYKE:          (SNEERINGLY)  And the hard headed banker was duly impressed.

OLD TIMER:        (QUIETLY)  Well, if he wasn’t how do you account for this: Every Christmas Day Bentley Marbold goes to that same Joss House and burns a beautiful Christmas Greeting to Old Moy Sam, long since gone to his ancestors.

Ann was quite moved by the story – moved to tears, even. She thanked the Old Timer profusely for showing her the light. She declared that she would soon be traveling to San Francisco, where she would detrain and stay. Van Dyke carelessly sniffed at her emotional trifles – to his own detriment. She announced that she intended to marry a “Native Son” of California, then asked Joe Cortez to escort her back to her state room. The Old Timer ended up with the last word.

VAN DYKE:          (IN DISGUST)  That shows what too much wandering about will do to a woman.

OLD TIMER:        (QUIETLY)  Wouldn’t wonder if you were right, Van Dyke. Especially if she wanders in persuasive places. And learns things about real folks. For instance, about Shoes of Eloquence, if you get what I mean.  (LAUGHS QUIETLY AND HAPPILY)

The continuity called for the music to come up and then fade for the closing “credit.” Ted Pearson came to the microphone and declared he had lost his script. Seems like a rather awkward device, since every cast member in the studio had a copy of the same script. Anyhow, the Old Timer suggested to Ted that they just wing it – which inevitably opened the door to another discussion of the upcoming vacation the Old Timer was planning to Glacier National Park.

ANNOUNCER:    All right. (BRIGHTLY) Well, what’s the latest news about your vacation trips in Glacier Park this summer, Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        (SOTTO)  That’s fine, Ted.  (UP)  Why, I tell you, Ted, there’s just lots and lots o’ people wantin’ to go with me. Singe my whiskers if we don’t have a great time out there in the Park!

ANNOUNCER:    Just what are you going to do out there, Old Timer? I bet there’s a lot of people would like to know more about the trips.

OLD TIMER:        (SOTTO)  You’re doin’ fine, Ted. (UP)  Well, we’re a-goin to visit, just about every interestin’ place in the park. We’re a-goin’ to start out from the Glacier Park Hotel – that’s just inside the park entrance, near the Great Northern station – and we’ll take our first trip by ‘bus down to Two Medicine Lake – see Trick Falls an’ Twin Falls, an’ take a launch-ride on Two Medicine Lake. Then we’ll have an Injun pow-wow at the hotel that night, an’ early next mornin’ we’ll start by ‘bus up to Many Glacier Hotel – that’s fifty-five miles away. There’ll be horseback trips an’ trail trips up there – to Josephine Lake an’ Grinnell Glacier an’ all over!

ANNOUNCER:    Everybody going to ride horses?

OLD TIMER:        You bet! Why, everybody rides out there!

ANNOUNCER:    Everybody, Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        Everybody! Yes, sir, as George Noffsinger says (he’s the president o’ the Park Saddle Horse Company) everybody from seven to seventy rides a horse in Glacier Park – an’ some o’ the best riders is them that’s at each end o’ the scale!

ANNOUNCER:    How long did you say these trips are going to last, Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        Ten days apiece. I’ve just told you about the first couple of days. We’re goin’ to cover that park like a tent, I tell you, Ted. We’re goin’ places –

ANNOUNCER:    And see things!

OLD TIMER:        You just bet your boots we are!

ANNOUNCER:    Say, our time’s getting short. Better finish. Ladies and gentlemen: The Old Timer’s first personally-conducted, all-expense vacation trip in Glacier Park starts about July first. There will be other trips during the latter part of the season, also personally conducted by the Old Timer. Write to him for information – address the Old Timer, care Great Northern Railway, 113 South Clark Street, Chicago, Illinois. He’ll be glad to send you detailed information, pictures, booklets, itineraries – everything you want to know about Glacier Park and his personally conducted vacation trips out there this summer.

Ted Pearson closed out the evening’s festivities by stating Harvey Hays was the Old Timer, Lucille Husting played Ann, and Don Ameche was Joe Cortez.

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