It's the last Sunday in May and Jack and Penny are back out to Mutual Radio Theater's classic showcase with the double-feature "The Goodnight Loving Trail" and "The Baseball Announcer"!
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The Mutual Audio Network
Mutual Presents: Sunday Showcase- Mutual Radio Theater #5.51(080424)
It's the last Sunday in May and Jack and Penny are back out to Mutual Radio Theater's classic showcase with the double-feature "The Goodnight Loving Trail" and "The Baseball Announcer"! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
- Duration:
- 1h 20m
- Broadcast on:
- 04 Aug 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
Ryan Reynolds here for Mint Mobile. With the price of just about everything going up during inflation, we thought we'd bring our prices down. So to help us, we brought in a reverse auctioneer, which is apparently a thing. Mint Mobile unlimited, premium wireless! Get 30-30, get 30, get 30, get 20, 20, get 20, get 20, get 20, get 20, get 15, 15, 15, just 15 bucks a month, so... Give it a try at mintmobile.com/switch. $45 up front for three months plus taxes and fees, promote rate for new customers for limited time, unlimited more than 40 gigabytes per month, slow, full turns at mintmobile.com. Sunday Showcase, highlighting some of the best audio storytelling found anywhere. All right here on the Mutual Audio Network. The following audio drama is rated PG for Parental Guidance. Hi there, and welcome back to Mutual Presents. I'm Jack Ward with your favorite co-host Kitty, or at least mine, Penny the Cat. Penny and I are enjoying the relaxing nature of the summer, even though we've been working down on the farm with a bunch of projects to get ready for next winter of all things. But when we can, we make a beeline out to the Sonic Summer Stock Playhouse, which plays great matinees between their regular season. In today's no exception as they bring us Mutual Radio Theatre and our double feature, The Good Night Loving Trail and the Baseball Announcer. So sit back and enjoy the show. This is Lauren Green. On some distant western plane in 1891, a bunch of Texas carboys huddle around a campfire. The trail herd is bedded down, and the exhausted drovers welcome the peace and quiet that nightfall brings. Zack Barnett, the weather beaten old trail boss, glances up at the Big Dipper. The position of the constellation in the sky tells him it's time to change the night guard. They say you've got the third watch, better get to it. I know, I don't know, don't seem like a fella never gets a chance to sleep around here. What are you kicking about? You can sleep all winter when the drive's over. Hmm, I reckon. The trouble with you boys is you've got it too easy nowadays. You don't know what it's like to be on a real trail drive. Pushing a couple thousand long horns up in Texas, no trail to fall except the one you make as you go along. I reckon then, days has gone forever. Railroad's made sure of that. That's why I count myself lucky. I came up the good night loving trail with that first herd of long horns. And that's only the beginning of our story. Mutual Radio Theater, a new adventure in radio listening. Five nights of exceptional entertainment every week. Brought to you in Elliot Lewis's production of the Mutual Radio Theater. Our Story, The Good Night Loving Trail by Steve Sharon. Our Stars, Jeff Corey, Sam Edwards, and Herb Bradley. By the 1890s, cattle are shipped to marketplace by rail. The days of moving great herds north and long trail drives are over. It's the end of an era. But one old trailhand remembers how it was in the beginning. Back in '65, reconstruction and carpet baggers had dropped on Texas like a flight on hungry vultures. There was too much beef and too much of that good for nothing rev money. One thing there wasn't enough of was good cow hands. The warts seemed to that. That was just a button then, but I could set a horse as good as something that was bigger and older. And with Charlie Goodnight got back from the war, he'd give me my first job. That worked with the outfit low when Comanche stampedeed one of the herds and drove me. Now Charlie, he didn't take too kindly to that, so we all did out after a cattle next day. There was 14 of us, the Good and Charlie's step-brother and partner Wes Sheik and Woodard Bill Wilson. We trailed him for 25 miles all the way to the Brasos River where we stopped. Come on Charlie, what are we stopping for? Are we going out to the herd? Nope, we need too far behind him Charlie. I've been studying the signs like you showed me. And what did you find, Zach, boy? Well, I didn't count any bug tracks crossing them hook prints, and you said that's a sure way to tell if they're fresh. Well, you're right, Zach. You read size almost as good as a ranger, but not as good as you. Well, if you'd counted down the John Boney tracks and the number of Marcus and Prince, you'd know there's just too many Comanche for us to go after the herd. You done so Bill? Yeah, unless Zach was to get his hair listed by them. Even though I'm in the blue moon place, I reckon I like my scalp right where it is. So that's it, huh? We're just going to let the herd go. Don't see we got much choice, Wes. Well, that is the damnest thing I ever heard of. After all we've worked for, what do we get to show for it? Nothing but a seat full of blisters. I can't even warn you. We best head back and protect what's left of the herd. Well, I reckon Charlie had about enough of Russell's engines and reconstruction, but if he had a plan, he was keeping it to himself. Charlie, Wes, could you come outside? You know, or Bill? Anything wrong? Just me and some other men like to have a word with you. Howdy boys? Howdy, Charlie. Well, what is it, Ian? Well, I don't know if you and Charlie heard the talk or worry as if some of the outfits here, boxes get ready to make a drive up Kansas way. Weird. I reckon all the Texas will be heading north to trade cattle for some of them Yankee dollars. That's the way we figured it is. Slash, why is looking for trail hands right now? Yeah, and paying $25 a month. We found any hand that finishes a drive. And they ain't doing any one, sir. Well, it's looking fancy too. I see. Naturally, since we work for you and Wes, Charlie, but what terms is tough? That's why we come. Yeah, well, we know how it hits you, Ben, with engines and brassicas, wherever I walk past you heard it. We figured. What we want to know is, are you going to Kansas? Oh, me and there's nothing I'd like more than drive or cattle up to the railhead. But, and I would too, if it wasn't from a partner here, Charlie is dead, said against Kansas, and he's got final say. In that case, I reckon we'll want to be growing our wages. Hold on, Bill. Wes is right. I am against Kansas. But come spring, we'll be shaping up a trail herd just the same. We're going west to Colorado. But there ain't no trail to Colorado. Where do you want to go that way for? You must be local. That's what I told him. Two reasons. First, if everybody in Texas takes the herd to Kansas, beef prices are bound to be lower. In Colorado, they got more mining camps than the cow has flies, the neat beef, and the figures to be good money in it for the one that brings it to them. Second, there's good rain gland up there. And if for some reason, the cow sell my cattle, well, at least I can hold them. Sounds awful, chances. Oh yeah, yeah, that's mighty hard country between them, Colorado. And like Zach says, ain't no trail. I'll pay top dollar to hand a hand to signs on them. If I lose the herd, you'll all get paid just the same. You got the word on it. All right, all right, I'll go. I reckon you can count me into... In the spring of '66, Charlie began shaping up his herd, what was left of it. Thanks to engines and rustlers, there was barely a thousand head of cattle. When the time came to buy provisions for the drive, me and Charlie rode into Mr. Loving's store and built it. And on water five, gallon keg of sourdough and a jug of vinegar and some dried apple. Oh, oh, don't forget the chewing tobacco. You know how one arm bill lacks a good chow. Yeah, thanks, second. Give me some plug to that chewing tobacco. Hey, good night. I hear you're making a drive to Colorado. That's right. I reckon I'll pay my respects now because you're the biggest damn fool I ever seen. If you think you'll make it alive, no man ever took a herd to Colorado and lived to tell about it. I did it. Back in '60? I didn't, Mr. Loving. Charlie. You took a herd to Colorado? Grosven north to Kansas, then west along the Arkansas River, all the way to Puebla. Well, I reckon you might drive that trail and still keep your scalp, but not if you go the way good nights flying it. You got another trail in mind, Charlie? Yes, sir, Mr. Loving. I have. I'd like to see it if you don't mind. No, sir. In fact, as I was sort of hoping I'd meet up with you before I started. Good. Let's go in the back room a week and talk. Mr. Oliver Loving was 54 years old then. He'd been in the cattle business about 20 years and I reckon he knew more about beef than any man on the frontier. He had an education and was real religious life. Charlie was a hell raisin in days, but you could tell he had respect for Mr. Loving. And so our figure the safest way is swing southwest instead of going north. The old Butterfield mail route. Yeah, he'll add several hundred miles to the drive, but we're lucky it won't run into any commodities or coyote. Exactly. I will strike for the middle conchle where we can lay over and water the herd. Then drive across the 96 mile desert and reach horseshoe crossing on the pegas. That'll mean going without water for six days. You think we can make it? Oh, it's a gamble, Charlie. A big gamble. Well, the plan seems sound enough, but that's hard country. I know it is, sir. Charlie, if you let me, I'd like to go with you. Let you. I reckon there's nothing I'd like more. I need your advice, Mr. Loving. Can you help? Fine. I'll shape up my herd and the good Lord Willan. We'll go to Colorado together. On June 6th, 1866, the most important day in young Charlie Goodnight's life, he and Oliver Loving began their historic attempt to blaze a new trail from the Texas frontier all the way to Colorado. Mr. Loving and young Charlie's threw their herd together just outside Belnet. 2000 had a low horns and 18 men to move. Mr. Loving, I'd be obliged if you'd take charge of the drive. Oh, nonsense, Charlie. Used to be trail boss. This is your drive. All the same, I'd feel a dang sight better with someone of your savvy boss in the herd. That's a you mean age. Very well, Charlie. You and one arm bill take the point, then. I deserve it. Shiloh and Wes are wide swing. All right. Zack, you got the drives, but simple and big give. You. The rest of you men spread out on the flanks. Tell them it and let's go to Colorado boys. When we reach the headwaters of the conch shell, we held the herd until they drank their fill. Then we filled our canned teens and water barrels and push on into the desert. Red said water bars. It's got to last another six days. We trail the herd from sun up until late at night. Tried to get through that furnace as quick as possible. It was when I was riding night guard that we got our first sign of trouble. Ride us, come in. Looks like it's here. What are you doing back in camp, Zack? Your chef's still got another hour here. I know, Mr. Loving, but we can't get the herd to bed down. Driving them so far without waters made them cattle too thirsty and rats was. I was praying on this one. Just keep milling about out there. When the devil's time trying to hold him, I'm sorry, Mr. Loving. I understand, sir. Sorry, boys. Looks like it's going to be a long sleepless night. Hey, how? Are you heard, Mr. Loving? Everybody. All count. Off your butts and on them horses. Mr. Loving, this will never do. We can't camp anymore until we do this desert. If them cattle want to walk, we'd best put them back on the trail instead of trying to hold. I guess you're right, Charlie. You take charge and see what you can do. All right, and all the next day we moved on. Our lips cracked open under the hot sun. How could I just choke the park strokes? If it was bad on us, it was worse on the cattle. Air ribs looked like bed slats in their tongues with dragging in the dust. The strain of the desert was bearing down on all of us, even the best of friends. Bill, you're letting the herd get too strong out and I'll close it up. You know, if she still take a little faster west, I'll back the leaders if you don't like the pace. I don't like it and I'm telling you, close it up. I do think you can do better than you ride drag. If I do, I won't be losing cattle the way you're doing. You must have lost a year, a hundred head, thanks to you. You say that I can't do my job. If we had hired a man with two arms, maybe we'd keep more cattle. Why you do? Break it up. Break it up, I said. If the Lord intended meant to fight like dogs, he'd get longer teeth than clothes. What's got into you boys? You two want to lock horns, that's your business, after we finish the drive. Till then... It's my fault. I didn't mean what it said, Bill. I reckon the heats made me in my touchy hair. I know that part. That's my fault to get this so riled. What's the matter? Nothing just a case of free nerves. Anybody seen Zach? It was up in the line just a little while ago. Come on Bill, better help me find him. As a kid's horse. And he goes through. No, Zach's too good a rider to get left to put in this country. He must be in some kind of trailer. He'd be... There he is. There he is. Oh, that ground in that bracket. Zach, you all right? What's the matter? It's an engine? What's wrong? You fell off your horse. That's what's wrong. I did? Oh, I reckon I fell asleep. Oh, hell asleep. Oh, Zach, you're back. You're not here. I'm sorry. You're just so plain tired I can't keep my eyes open. Yeah, I know. We got all of you with a good night's sleep. Take some of this backy. You just jar that up real good and rub some of the juice in your eyes. Tobacco juice in my eye. Oh, what for? You don't sting like hell, Bob. I don't need your eyes open. It did sting like hell, Bob. But that was the last time I had been fell asleep in the saddle. Well, we pushed on. Can't teens went dry. By the next day, the water barrels are empty too. We had to suck on cartridges to stop the thirst. No use, Charlie. The sea stuffing calves can't keep up. I'm afraid we'll have to leave them behind. Yeah, I reckon we ain't got much choice. How many of you figure we'll lose? Maybe a hundred head. That's a hell of a lot of cow. I'll save what I can, but if we don't get some water soon, we'll lose the whole herd. Zach, ride down the line and collect the cantines from the men. Right, Charlie. If you take over, Mr. Ludding, Zach and I can scout ahead for a water bowl. Go ahead, Charlie. Yeah, alkaline. Damn, this desert for a hell hole. What do we do now, Charlie? Push on, Zach. Push on and pray we find water and time to save the herd. March the 1st, Charlie Goodnight and young Zach Barnett rode on ahead of the herd in search of water. They found it in the form of an alkali hole who would have meant sure death to them and their cattle. I was beginning to think we'd never find good water and that I'd made my first and last drive and was going to die right there in the desert. Zach, look, there. What? Nothing but an old swallow. Unless the heat's got to me, that swallow's carrying mud to build a nest. And mud means water. We must be near the peckers. Feel the breeze? Yeah. And it smells downright wet, son. You've got to hurry, Zach, you boy. I might just drink the whole damn peckers who will notify and get there first. When he filled the cantines and got back to the herd, just knowing we was getting near water, cheered the men, and we thought our troubles were over. It was two o'clock in the morning when some of the cattle started acting up. What's got into the herd, Charlie? They start making it crazy. They smell the water and they're fixing to run for it. I don't think we can hold them. We'll have to turn the herd south away from the alkali hole. If they get in there, we'll never get them back. Set bird! All hands in the cup! Can't know! Can't know! When the cattle reached the river, they didn't stop, but poured right over the bank, taking horses and riders with them. The ones in front got pushed out to never get the drink. So they turned back and added to the confusion. There, we spent two long days trying to save the herd from the river and the quicksand. I've never been so dog tired in all my life. All I want to do is close my eyes for about a month or two. You did a good job today, man. Get yourself some grub and try and catch some sweets. Okay, I need you to look at me if it's happened. You looked pretty tired yourself, Mr. Loving. You ain't slept for the last four days. Oh, I'll be all right, but I'd be better if we hadn't lost somebody, Captain. Damn, that pickus river. I hate it. It's worse than the engines ever were. Now, Charlie won't do any good to blame the river for our trouble. Why shouldn't I? The damn thing drowned over a hundred head of our cattle. Not to mention another hundred, we'll have to leave behind in the quicksand. I'd tell you that pickus is the graveyard of the cowman's host. If that was all we lost, it wouldn't be so bad, but counting those we left back on the trail, we've lost almost a third. This drives had nothing but bad luck since the start. Well, as a good book says, man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward. You might be right, Mr. Loving. Sometimes I take them troubles from sparks and slide right up my bridges. The herd settled down now that they had the water they needed. We re-crossed the river and headed up the picko some 20 miles, which, all he said, we'd find grass. But we found this damn little grass in about a million rattlesnakes. Cuss environment? Seems to me you're wasting a lot of cartridges shooting them rattlers, Bill. Well, I got plenty of time, so I'd like to come off the rattles and see them. I have to send them to my sweetheart. When he pushed on into New Mexico, the country began to change as we went. The grass got greener and the drive got easier, except for the job I had to do every morning. Dave's racing, everybody up, off and on. Cookie says he'll throw breakfast in the creek and he don't come and get shallow. Take a man and spell west in Big Jim on guard. Morning, Mr. Loving. Good morning, Charlie. Better got some bad news. We got eight new ones. What? We never should have put a mixed herd on this trail. It's making the cows drop too soon. Well, there's only one thing to do. That? Yeah, Charlie? Take my gun and some cartridges and ride out to the bedground. Eight more dropped during the night. Charlie, I sure wish you'd get somebody else to do it. I just don't like to kill them little caffees. Well, Zach, I don't either, but it has to be done. You know, they won't be able to keep up with a herd and it's better than letting the wolves get them. Oh, I'll do it. I sure won't like it. There's a good love. Oh, they can't! Those aren't any of our boys. No, they ain't. And let's see what they want. Come on in. They smelled your fire. Mind if me and my two cars asked for some of that coffee? Empty self. Where are you boys from? For some, man. Are you three taking an awful big gamble riding through this country? We thought we'd take the chance now that the Navajos and Mascarellos are back on the reservation. And Comansis don't usually come this far westness. They got a good reason. Say, you didn't bring them longorns all the way up from Texas, did you? We sure did. I never thought I'd see that happen. I reckon you're headed for Fort Sumner then. No, we're headed up Colorado Way. Price of beef must go over good up there and makes you pass up the reservation. What do you mean? Eight to herd. The Indians are starving and the government is buying all the beef they can lay their hands on the feet of them. What? Are you sure? I sure am sure. That's why I'm in such a hurry to get back to my own herd. How much do they pan? Eight cents a pound on the bus for two threes and a half. Yahoo! Settle up boys! We're going to Fort Sumner. Thanks for passing the word. Don't mention it. Lorne Green again and here's the forefact of the Good Night Loving Trail. At Fort Sumner, Charlie and Mr. Loving sold all the steers for $12,000 a go. Mr. Loving pushed on to Colorado while Charlie went home in time to get another herd on the trail for winter. That first drive showed that there was a new trail for Texas longhorns, but that weren't enough. The trail had to be held against engines and rustlers. All of Texas was watching to see if Good Night and Loving could keep the way open that next year. Well, with all the delays we've had, we'll never make Santa Fe in time to bid on those cattle contracts. Any much we can do about it, Mr. Loving? The herd can only move so fast. That's just my point. Maybe I should go on ahead. The West is in Fort Sumner. If we're late, he'll go on to Santa Fe and make a bid for us. I don't get me wrong, Charlie. Your step-brother is a good man, but he's short on experience. I'd just assume be there when they put up the contracts. It's too dangerous, especially now that the Comanche know we're moving cattle to these parts. They've already attacked the herd one. I've decided to go anyway, and there's nothing you can say that'll change my mind, Charlie. Zach, ride down the line until one arm, Bill, I want him. That's true, Charlie. Since I can't talk you out of it, Mr. Loving, I'm sending Bill Wilson with you. He's the best man in the outfit, and you just might get through with him. But only if you ride at night and hide out during the day. Don't worry, Charlie. I'm sure the good Lord will protect us. I hope so, Mr. Loving. I sure do hope so. Well, for the first two days, Bill and Mr. Loving did just like they promised, riding at night and laying low during the day. Since we're up two hours now, Mr. Loving, the best they can on the cover. Bill, if it's one thing, I hate it's night riding. We haven't seen any sign of Indians yet. I'd just assume keep on going, yeah? All right, with me, Charlie have a phone out. We didn't do like he said he should be around. Well, then the best thing to do is not to tell him, may Bill. Damn, it's in passing committee. I quit off your horse and up in a rush. Well, wait a minute now, ain't we, huh? They got our horses. Let them go, baby, that'll satisfy them, and that's the level to keep our hair. I don't think so. How many do you think there are? I don't have so many, I don't have so long. You speak any Spanish, Bill, maybe we can talk them into it. Don't move, Mr. Loving. Everything's loaded. How bad? That looks like a ball went clean through your wrist and worked its way into your side. Here's my wife to stop the bleeding. Bill, I'm not going to make it. Sure, sure, you're well, Mr. Loving, but we'll be good now, isn't it? The moon's going down. I'll get up to dark enough for you to slip across the river now. Charlie and the others, they're only a day and a half behind us. If you can hold out, Bill, no, I just can't leave the head of them doubles. I'm dead, please. Go to Charlie. I want him to tell my family what happened. I'm Mr. Loving, they didn't tell them. I didn't let the Comanches take me. That I went into the river and shot myself rather than be tortured to death. Please, it's important that they know how I died. All right, then I'll be back. I'll leave you, leave you the hands. If the Lord wills it, and I do hold him off, I'll slip downstream a couple of miles in the heart. Well, we'll look for you there, then. Here, take my Henry, the Comanches are waterproof. All right, if you hear them engines laughing, you know they see me, the sight of a one-armed man holding on a rifle while he tries to swim a river bound to look down right at you. Good luck, Bill. Yeah, I'll be back. And remember, I was pointing a herd with Charlie when we both saw something move up in the hills. Zack, did you see that? Yeah, what'd you figure it is? Good to be a Comanche scout. Better tell the men to escape the herd for a fight. I don't want to get caught up. Third is again. It's an engine, all right? No, he's giving me the frontier sign to come to him. I think he's white, or maybe it's a trick. We'll soon find out. Come on. It was one armed Bill Wilson. He was in bad shape. We took him back to camp, but it wasn't until next day before he could tell us what happened. Charlie took six men and headed out the pikos to where Bill said the fight took place. Searched all day, but there was no sign of Mr. Loving. Hey, we pushed on. The herd's all bedded down, Charlie. Thanks, Zack. You better get yourself some trouble. Hi, I'm coming in, Charlie. It looks like Wes. I thought he was supposed to be in Fort Sumner. Oh, what are you doing here, Wes? I got tired of waiting for you. Maybe that's the best ride out and see if he's all right. We're all right, but I got some bad news, huh? Mr. Loving was killed by engines two weeks ago down on the pikos. No, no, Loving is at Fort Sumner. Impossible. Loving is kind of poorly and he's under the post-doctor's care, but he's a long way from dead. Zack? He all settled up. He got away from them, compared to their own. When nobody came, he slid into the river. He just way upstream. Some Mexicans found him and took him into Fort Sumner. He said, "They're anxious to see you, Charlie. Not half as anxious as I am to see him." Yeah, we rode all day and all night. 110 miles was. By going the following day, we were in Fort Sumner. The wind on his side is healing, finding it. It's the arm that's got me worried. What's the matter with it? I'm afraid that it'll have to be removed. Do what you have to, Doc. No, not me. See, I've never amputated a limb before. I can't do it. You've got to. You're the only doctor within 200 miles. No, I really shouldn't. You know what I think? You want to let Mr. Loving die because he's a Texan, and you just soon get rid of one more Johnny Red. Well, Doc, you either operate or this world's going to be shy, another Yankee. Very well, I'll, I'll amputate his arm. Sure has taken a long time. Why don't you try to get some sleep, Charlie? If anything happens, I'll let you. How is it, Doc? To tell you the truth, I don't know. The athlete who was exceedingly large, he's lost a lot of blood. I did the best I could. I know, Doc, and I'm obliged to you. And no, I went to tell you just what, excuse me, you are. What? I'm a Scotsman. I've only been in America two years, and I don't know a dumb thing about your levels, and I couldn't care less. I didn't operate on Loving because I didn't know if he could stand an unstatic. But since you insisted, well, you'd just be thankful that your partner didn't die right then and there. Well, after everything Mr. Loving's been through, shock was just too much for him. He lived for 22 days getting weaker and weaker till finally, Charlie. Charlie? I'm here, Mr. Loving. Oh, my young friend, shouldn't have taken your advice. If I had, maybe I wouldn't have, well, it's too late now. I want to ask you a favor, Charlie. Yes, sir. Do you think you could continue our partnership after I'm gone just until my debts are paid off and my family's provided for? I'd do that anyway, Mr. Loving. Thank you, Charlie. I know you'll keep your promise. Only regret is that I won't be buried in Texas. Where your treasury is, there will your heart be also. Don't worry, Mr. Loving. I'll see you get home. With you, Charlie. We'll have to be real nice. Very good friend. I'm going to miss you. Charlie kept his promises that day on whenever someone spoke of Mr. Loving, Charlie, get real quiet. My old pot rein saved, and we all knew he was thinking about the old days. The trail was opened and Charlie kept it that way. Texas had a new market for their long horns. You later, Charlie pushed the trail up into Wyoming and later it's crushed up Montana way where they called it the Texas Trail. But most know it as the Goodnight Loving Trail in honor of the two men that pioneered it. I'm proud to say I rode with both of them. [Music] The virtual radio theater is brought to you five nights a week at this time. Tonight's original radio play, The Goodnight Loving Trail was written by Steve Sharon and produced and erected by Elliot Lewis. Your host was Lauren Green. Our stars were Jeff Corey, Sam Edwards, and Herb Rudley. Featured in the cast were Corey Burton, Robert Easton, Tom Brown, and William Lally. The music for radio theater was composed and conducted by Nelson River, John Harlan speaking. The Elliot Lewis production of Radio Theater in the presentation of CVI. This is Andy Griffin. Join us tomorrow at the same time. I've got another story I think you'll find a lot of music. [Music] [Music] [Music] Listen to this. And you know what this is? It's a story about my father, the baseball announcer. It isn't everyone who can announce a baseball game, you know. Calls for a person who knows the game well and has studied its many ramifications since toddler days. I mean, being an announcer is one thing, but being a baseball announcer is really something special. Anyway, in 1934, just after prohibition, my father worked as a studio announcer for a station known as Rec, a properly called WREQ. It was in a large city. So large, it's still the ground down with the Midwest, and it still has its border of radio station, then rivers, grand opera companies, and theaters, and it's represented by baseball teams in both the American and national leagues. Back there in the '30s, of course, it also had its border of gangsters. Let's call the city Bayhead. Not because that's its real name, but because it's a real story. I don't want my father who told it to me to end up in a morgue. You see, he could get shot for what happened. It all began when my father finished a studio broadcast, and since I've always been told that I sound like him, it must have sounded something like this. This is your announcer, Blue Anchor, speaking from Bayhead's WREQ. We now switch you to the post-room of the Bartley Hotel and music for your dining and dancing pleasure by the Auburn Five. Take it away. Oh, hello, Brad. Hi, Blue. What's a big shot like Braddock Croton doing around here? I've been with the Norma Beer People and Mr. Oldwick all day. By the way, he wants to see you. Oldwick wants to see me? He's got a surprise for you, Blue. I mean, like I'm fired. No, not bad. A real surprise. The program manager, Mr. Oldwick, has a surprise for me. Come on. He sent me to get you. And that's only the beginning of our story. Mutual Radio Theatre, a new adventure in radio listening. Five nights at exceptional entertainment every week, brought to you an Elliot Lewis's production of the Mutual Radio Theatre. Our Story, the Baseball Announcer, by Ted Shurdeman. Our Stars, Robert Towers, and Frank Campanella. My father felt pleased to be in the company of Braddock Croton, the fair-haired boy of WREQ, who announced both the at-home and out-of-town baseball games of the Bayhead Beavers of the National League for Norma Beer. My father was as pleased as the brewers that Brad had been invited to their training camp by the Beavers. It was really something when a baseball team came to look on the broadcaster of their games as one of their own. Brad Croton was good and good for the game. My father told me that when he and Brad arrived at the program manager's office, Mr. Oldwick greeted them most warmly. "Well, well, well, I see Braddock crowned you okay." "Yes, Mr. Oldwick. Well, well, I suggest you be seated, Blue." "You haven't told him yet." "No, I left that pleasantry for you, Mr. Oldwick." "Well, well, well. Blue, what do you know about the Titans?" "The Bayhead Titans, sir?" "Yes, yes, yes, the same." "Well, nothing much, sir, except they're in the American League." "I told you, Blue is a Beavers fan." "Yes, sir, ever since I came to Bayhead from Omaha?" "Well, well, well, well. Can you stand to surprise?" "I think so, sir." "Well, well, well. Braddock and I have spent the day with the Norma peer people." "Yes, so he told me, sir." "Oh, stop saying, sir, all the time, Blue." "Yes, sir. I mean, all right, sir. I mean, I mean, okay." "You'll have to get over that because soon you'll be as besieged by autograph seekers as our mutual friend, Brad Proton is." "I will, sir." "Oh, what did I tell you about saying, sir?" "You make me sound like your grandfather." "I'm sorry. Can I call you Mr. Olwick?" "Absolutely." "Okay, Mr. Olwick, you were saying?" "What was I saying?" "Oh, yes, well, well, well. I have shown you to the Norma peer people to announce the Titans games." "Me? Both the at-home and the out-of-town games." "What?" "Well, well, well, pretty important news, eh?" "You will have to become a Titans fan now, Blue." "Hey, a baseball announcer. Wow!" "I've made arrangements for you to do the out-of-town games from the offices of the Bayhead Bulletin. The in-town games will be done from the baseball park in our special broadcast booth built by the managed friend." "Oh, my goodness." "I said he had a surprise for you, didn't I?" "Oh, boy, I expected nothing like this." "Oh, you'll be given a press guard for the windshield of your car by the bulletin." "You mean I can park anyplace?" "Anyplace your heart desires." "It's like yours, uh, Brad?" "Just like mine." "You will be broadcasting the games from a station out-of-town." "Not on rec?" "I mean, W.R.E.Q." "No, no, I hate those call letters. I wish the FCC would do something. Where were we?" "You were telling Blue about broadcasting the games from a station out-of-town." "Oh, yes, so we don't interfere with Radix's reporter." "We'll be on at the same time, Blue." "We will." "So, I've made arrangements for an affiliate to carry your broadcast blue. The home games will come from the park and the out-of-town games, which you'll have to fake, of course, will be done from the offices of the bulletin." "I see, Mr. Oldway." "And your sports review will be carried on the affiliate also, but you'll broadcast them from a studio here. In other words, you won't have to move your place of residence, Blue." "Oh, boy." "And you open the season blue. The Titans play Clinton on the 15th." "It which gives us less than a month to prepare." "Now, step one, go across the street and have your photograph taken. Norma Beer is going to plaster its outlets and cucks with it, and a slogan, follow Blue Anchor with the Titans." "You like that?" "Oh, it's just fine, sir. I mean fine, Mr. Oldway." "Norma Beer will send over its commercials at the beginning of the week. I'll show you how to use them at the end of the inning." "Do I get a raise? I mean in salary, Mr. Oldway." "Oh, no, indeed. The honor of being chosen as the Titans announcer is more valuable than any raise." "Yeah, I guess it is. By the way, Brad, what's an inning?" "What's an inning?" "You know baseball, don't you?" "Oh, sure. I used to play catch with my father." "Oh, my goodness." "Mr. Oldway." "He's fainted, but Mr. Oldway. Mr. Oldway." "What do you mean you used to play catch with your father?" "Oh, I did. I caught him. He pinned you." "You're right here in my arms, Mr. Oldway." "What happened?" "You fainted." "Why?" "It was right after Blue said he used to play catch with his father." "Oh, now look what you've done." "I didn't do anything." "He's fainted again." "Oh, you did all the talking." "Come to, Mr. Oldway. Please, come to. Maybe we should get a doctor." "Oh, he's coming around. Mr. Oldway." "Oh, what have I done?" "You fainted again." "You! You get out of here!" "Yes, sir." "Can you sit up, Mr. Oldway?" "I guess so. Oh, what have I done? Why didn't you stop me?" "Stop you." "Why did you let me sell that nincompoop to the Norma Beer people?" "I thought you knew what you were talking about." "Every citizen of Bayhead knows baseball. How can I tell the Norma Beer people that we found the only one who doesn't? And we hired him!" "I don't know, Mr. Oldway." "There are full season yet. Oh, I'm afraid of death." "But please don't, Mr. Oldway." "Oh, I don't dare tell him." "No, Mr. Oldway." "I don't dare, do I?" "No, Mr. Oldway." "Can you train him, Braddock?" "Who, Mr. Oldway?" "Oh, you know who that die who you should play catch with his father." "Well, I can try." "In the meantime, we'll share this little secret, huh?" "Yes, sir." "And, oh, and he's supposed to do a smart review too." "Oh, my goodness." "You know something, Mr. Oldway. I'm getting sick of this." So, my father was taught to announce baseball by Brad Croton. I use the word "taught" very loosely, because baseball in their own saying can't be learned in a few weeks, even with a superior teacher. It's a very special art, as my father found out back there in 1934. For the out-of-town games, he set at a small table next to a teletype machine. Beside him was the scorebook, the normal beer commercials, and some mimeographed worksheets showing a diamond with the names of each position on the field written in, so he could identify by name each player who caught or feel the ball. It was also a Chinese woodblock, a drumstick, and a turntable, with an assortment of records of various crowd noises. Brad had arranged for the wire service to send over the teletype the previous year's out-of-town games with the bayhead beavers, so my father could practice faking the radio version of the game. From here on, by the way, I'm going to tell you the rest of the story in my father's own words, just the way he told it to me. All right, now look blue. You have to watch the teletype machine all the time. There's another foul ball. Here's the pitch and another foul ball. Use your crowd record. Color it up. Have the catcher try to catch the foul for an hour. He doesn't say that on the teletype. He doesn't matter what it says. He's supposed to provide some excitement for the listeners. Now, use a crowd record and ad-lib about the catcher's attempt to make the out. All right, okay. Not that record. Here. Try this one. And the catcher tries to get the woodblock before the record or after. Before. Not so hard. First time it sounded like a home run. Oh, now the record? Another foul ball. And I'm looking for the name of the catcher. It's right there in front of you on the diagram of the diamond. Where? The other one. The beavers are at back. I'm a catcher. Millbrook makes a dash to catch it. And where does the ball go? I don't care right or left seal or against the backstop. It's up to you. All we get on the teletype is that it's a foul ball. All right, the batter is out at first anyway. Now take out the crowd nurse. Everything happens so fast. You're supposed to enter what happened in your score book. Oh, yeah. Let's see. Millford at first. That's second. Not Millford. He was the catcher. Oh, okay. I see. Okay. All right. Now put down four to three. Okay. Four to three. Got it in the wrong place. Oh, yeah. It should go there. Oh, boy. You know what's wrong? What? I'm supposed to announce in the American League. These are all nationally young. What difference? Baseball's baseball. And you'll never learn it. If Dave finally arrived for me to announce my first home game, I arrived at the Bayhead Stadium, the home park for the Titans. The press sign in the windshield of my car had worked wonders for me. I not only drove to the park like a madman, but parked in the player's lap. Then a uniformed usher took me in hand and I followed him up the long ramps at the back of the stadium, threw the press box where the sports reporter lifted me curiously, passed the other broadcasters' moves and finally the usher showed me mine. He's gotten into by going down a small ladder at two levels and was spacious. The field engineer, whom I didn't know, had set up the equipment and mic on the counter. He greeted me most warmly. I'm your engineer, Chester Vanwood. Quite a meaty Chester. Wow, wow. Quite a view, huh? Wow, right above and behind home plate. Oh, you must have pulled some strings to get such a prize booth. I'm going to do the out-of-town games too. I know. You're the only broadcaster to do both, but this booth. Wow. Well, let's work. The Titans vs. the Clinton scalpers. I figure Clinton to take all four games. How about you, will you win a bet? Oh, I'm a Titan fan now, Chester. It wouldn't be fair to bet against my own team. Why does he do that when he's only warming up? Oh, Grasheen in the bullpen. He looks like he's in a dice game. What do you mean? Well, he keeps blowing on the ball. Oh, Grasheen is a spitball pitcher. That's illegal. Well, it is now, but spitballers who were in the big leagues before are still allowed. What's he use? Slippery elm. It makes the pitch look like a pie plate coming at you. What does? The spit. It was a pretty good game, except for the guy the Titans had playing in center field. He ran forward for one fly ball, then backwards, then forward again. Yeah, but the ball had already landed. The next fly ball, he tried to catch, hit him right on top of the head. A left and right fielders tried to cover for him, but he waved them off, determined to make the catch, and snappled at him. Hit him on the head and went for three bases. Why did the Titans leave him in? Because he's a good hitter. He's four for four so far. Everybody's standing up. There must be a fight someplace. As soon as I find it, I'll bring you a blow-by-blow description. It's just a moment. My engineer may have spotted something. How is it? It's just a seven-vining stretch. False alarm, ladies and gentlemen, I'll find out what's happened. You can always depend on Blue Anchor. The Titans won the game three to two, so naturally they didn't play the end of the ninth inning. My fans are entitled to a whole nine innings of baseball, and I intend to see they get it. But the Titans won. Just winning isn't enough. We're all entitled to nine full innings of baseball, and I intend to be here all night, if necessary, finding out why you've been gypped. I was gypped when they gave me this assignment. What are you doing? I'm dismantling the equipment. You took my microphone. Let's start at the equipment. I vowed then and there that I would get another engineer. Then I remembered that though I plugged normal beer at the beginning of the game, I'd made no mention of them at the end of each innings, I was opposed to the different. Well, they'd understand what would be excitement at all. You see, it was my first real baseball game, and the Titans vs. the Quentin scalpers was the first time I'd ever seen nine players on both sides. Well, anyway, as I started down the ramp to my car, I was stopped by a man. I started to reach for a pencil to give him an autograph. Hey, you blue-inking? Yeah, I am. Mm-hmm. Yeah, you're the guy on the picture. Come on. He took hold of my arm with a hand that had only a thumb and first finger. I winced because the thumb and finger went right to the bone. You're hurting me. You'll, uh, you'll come a piece of blue light to the car. Well, I've got my own car. You ride in hours. He took hold of my arm again and led me to a waiting black sedan. There was a driver and a guy in the backseat when he pushed me into the car. This is him. The guy who announced that ball game. Nobody said anything about the driver of Nova. He noticed the man in the backseat had a revolver in his shoulder holster, so I didn't say anything either. He drove to the south Bayhead traffic and finally arrived at a corner store. His windows were all white-washed from inside, so nobody could see into the place. Right. Get out. Yes, sir. Not the car in the back. Inside the store. No, I think it was in the Warner Brothers gangster movie. To place it, we're in a snicker table in the middle of the room. The three players stopped and stared at me. Each not only had a pool queue, but two wearing shoulder holsters, and the third had a revolver stuck in the front of his payments. This is the guy. Right through that door there. This is him, Spike. Seated behind a desk with his feet propped up on it was a tall man who wore gray spat, striped pants, a gray pro-button double-breasted vest, and a fuzzy gray fedora hat. I recognized him from the pictures I'd seen in the newspapers. Spike Puluchi. You see, this was just after prohibition and gangsters were still life in Bayhead. Puluchi was one of them. He looked at me a long time and said something I'd never heard before. You stink. What? I said you stink. Yes, sir. You gonna broadcast all the Titan games? Yes, sir. Not unless you get better, you wait. Yes, sir. You got a scorebook? Oh, yes, sir. Oh, some plays. Oh, here. Here it is, sir. Maybe we'll find out now what happened in the first inning. Well, you got turning number five. He's a shortstop. Oh, that's how Brad Croton numbers them. He taught me how to score. Good announcer, but a lousy teacher. Shorts number six. Arnie, get the blackboard. You're gonna have to teach this clown about announcing baseball. I could keep telling you, baseball announcing is very special, but so are baseball fans. I soon found out that the Bayhead Beavers fans, for instance, were fickle for the most part, but Bayhead Titan fans were convinced their team didn't get the breaks, even if they lost 20 to nothing. I learned something else, too, that Spike Pelucci and his hoods couldn't go to the ballpark because it was another gang's territory, and they weren't about to risk any kind of running with their rivals. It was just the fact of life in 1934, but Spike Pelucci was a dedicated Titans fan, depending on the radio for in-town progress of the game and the daily newspapers were out of town results. Since I've been in Ballywood by Norma Beers, they announced her to follow. The Pelucci was been unfollowing me. That's why I sent for the big blackboard on Weer. Here it is, Spike. What do you want to... Right there's okay, Arnie. Arnie? That's his name? Yeah, I want to make something out of it. Oh, no, sir. Just curious, sir. It was a World War I. That's where I lost the fingers. That's why we call them army. My real name's Florence, because my mother wanted a girl. I prefer Arnie. What's the blackboard for? It's for hijacking jobs. Now it's for learning baseball, our way. Let's see now. We write down the positions and the names of the players. But I've got baseball diamonds mimeographed already, here I'll show you. There, the only number I had wrong was for the shortstop in my scorebook. If you know so stinking much, what happened in the first inning when all the others had followed? And why do you keep looking at your wristwatch? Well, I've got to be back to rec. I mean, W-R-E-Q to do a sports review, sir. How come rec? Oh, the sports review will come over the affiliate, but I'm supposed to use the rec studios. I couldn't get to the affiliate and time to do it, especially on double header days. This guy is planning to do double-headed? Relax, Arnie. I'll pay attention, Blue. What about the sports review? I'll have a car drive you. Now here's the first thing. [Music] I got my first lesson in announcing baseball their way. When time got really critical, a big sedan drove me back to Bayhead Stadium. I got in my own car, drove to rec, and never said a word about Spike Palucci. I've been told not to. And when you're told anything by people with guns, you do what they say or you get your head blown off. As the season went on, I got to be a pretty good baseball announcer. Oh, I was no red barber, Bill Stern, or Brad Croton, but I was acceptable, at least to Spike Palucci. After each of the early games, Arnie'd be waiting for me when I got out of the ramp, and off we'd go to see Spike again. One day, when Arnie didn't show up, I even phoned to see why he was late. "Arnie ain't here." Well, who's this? Spike? "Yeah." Well, I expected Arnie to be waiting for me. "I didn't send him." Well, how come? "Because you did all right this game." "I did?" "You did." "She." "What'd you say?" "Well, I just said, 'He, I did all right.'" "There's always tomorrow, kid." The Titans score another three runs, making it 10-1 on a homer to ride by a ocean, the third baseman of the Titans, and it's only the second inning. "Mr. Anchor, coming to bat now is deal. A first pitch to him is live, all won." "Yes?" "Do you mind if Mr. Dillinger and his friend share the booth with you?" Past the usher, I could see the face of the nation's leading gangster and his anonymous friend. What was I to say? To begin with, my booth was not only the best seat in the ballpark, but I wasn't about to argue with John Dillinger. "Mr. Palucci?" "Hmm." "I've got a confession to make." "He ain't a priest, Blue." "I know, but I have to tell him now, Army." "So get it off your chest." "I, uh, God, I let John Dillinger and a friend sit in my broadcast booth today." "His friend playing hooky from music school?" "Well, he was carrying a violin case, he has. I was asked by an usher to let him in, and I had no choice." "Mr. Palucci?" "Yeah, yeah." "Now, what happened after deal came to bat in the second inning?" "Your scorebook here doesn't show anything at all." "I had to tell you, sir." "So you told me, I want to know what happened to Deal?" "Oh, uh, he struck out." "Struck out? Then you put a K here, see?" "I know." "A K for a strikeout." "What happened to you today?" "I told you, I had this visitor." "Oh, and Billinger's a friend of mine, no problem there." "Oh, well, you can come to the park yourself." "Not while I have you on the radio. Thanks to my efforts at getting to be pretty good." "Uh, Bill, what happened in the sixth inning?" "Well, I guess I made a mistake on me. I didn't remember the ground rules." "Yeah, you want to take our car, or your wrong?" "I'll take your ride." "Oh, I'll see you at the store, okay?" "Okay." "You understand about the ground rules?" "Yes, Spike, it's to make sure we get some runs." "Yeah, but you know that. I was wrong with you today." "Oh, I had a bad time yesterday evening when Mr. Oldwick, and I didn't sleep at all." "What'd you say his name was?" "I missed it." "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, forget it's even just one of those things." "Mr. Who army?" "He said, 'Ohwick, please, forget it, it was nothing." "Nothing?" "You call lossing up our broadcasts, nothing." "The next day it rained, so there was no ball game. But Mr. Oldwick called a meeting of the entire staff of Wreck." "Well, well, well, nice of so many to come out." "What's this all about, Mr. Oldwick?" "Well, I, uh, I have an announcement to make, Brad." "An announcement?" "Well, why not put it on the bulletin?" "Well, because I wanted to see you all when I said what I have to say." "Now, now, would you please quiet down?" "Well, well, well, I, um, I've been with station W.R.E.Q. for, well, since it was founded." "Good many years, a good many." "Well, well, well, but the time has come," as the Walrus said. "You don't try that funny." "I, uh, I am going to a radio station in Des Moines, Iowa." "From there?" "Oh, Wreck." "Now, now, nobody can talk me out of it." "I, uh, I am so bent on joining the station in Des Moines. I am leaving tonight." "I just wanted to thank you personally for all you've done for me while I was here." "But, Mr. Oldwick, who's going to take your place?" "Then I, I don't know, but whoever takes my place may he prosper as well as I. I, I am spoken to the owners this morning and they understand. So, now, goodbye, goodbye, and goodbye." "No, I can't prove that Spike Pulucci had anything to do with Mr. Oldwick's leaving, but I keep thinking it was my inadvertent remark that did it. Why would a man who was a well thought of program director leave a big station like Wreck and Bayhead for a little station in Des Moines, Iowa?" "Oh, I feel really bad about it. If Mr. Oldwick is still around, I'm sorry it happened. Really, sorry." "I kept seeing the situation in my head. One of Pulucci's hoods leaving Spike himself, telling Mr. Oldwick." "You've got exactly 24 hours to be out of town. Will you end up in the morgue as another unsolved crime?" "But where will I go?" "Be out of town in 24 hours or else. You got that clear, Oldwick?" "Yes, sir." "Make sure, or you end up dead as a macro." "Who'd yes, sir?" "I hope I'm never involved in that kind of a situation. Des Moines? After Bayhead? Oh, my goodness." "And he grabbed it again and here's the fourth act of our story." "Well, the out of town games finally got to be a bit easier for me, except for my quarters in the Bayhead Bulletin's offices. I was assigned a rule, not much more than a closet, really. And instead of a teletype machine, a copy boy brought me slips of paper, on which were typed the progress of the game. Just another fact of life in 1934. The trouble was the copy boy wasn't nearly as reliable as the teletype machine." "Where is that peanut-headed copy boy?" "The slammer's pitcher throws the new ball back to his catcher, refusing a pitch with it. A fire throws him another ball. Ah, this is satisfactory, I guess. Hologna rubs it up. Ah, he's back on the mound. Gets set, glances at first where Nesco is taking a fairly long lead, throws the person in an attempt to get Nesco, but it's not successful." "Where is that copy boy?" "Here's a pitch to the auction." "Well, it doesn't matter where the slammer pitcher puts him there, foul off. There's another in the stand." "Here's the rest of the evening, Mr. Blue." "What have you been?" "I got other things to do, you know." "I got a baseball game to announce, give me that." "Big deal, who listens?" "Here's a pitch, and the auction is called out on strikes. That ends the Titan's eighth inning. The stands are applauding the slammer's pitcher for striking out the ocean." "This is like my name." "Who?" "Oh, oh, no." "Okay, this." "Let's see now, one hit, no runs, no errors, one man left on base. The score tightens two, slammer's five. Now for a word from Norma Bier." "I'll tell you who listens, my friend Spike Pelucci and his pal Army. That's who, and yeah, oh, he's gone." "Do you enjoy a beer that is flavorsome?" "I tell you, Mr. Pelucci, sometimes the copy boy lets me wait around and wait around. That's why Goshin fouled all those pitches in the eighth inning. I don't know whether he actually fouled at many or not, or they had to make up something. I tell you, remembering to hit that woodblock for fouls and hits, play the right crowd record, keep up with the paperwork, remember to do the commercials after every inning." "You blow the crowd noises." "Well, dude, that copy boy, keeping me waiting." "Up to the crowd noises, I was enjoying myself." "Oh, I couldn't help it, Spike. It was the copy boy's fault." "That's a copy boy, yes, other things to do, you know." "Why don't they give me a teletype machine? I was trained to watch a teletype. Oh, that creep hands me a little sleep so that slips a paper, like one of those things they have in a stockbroker's office. I can read them all right, but not if they're not delivered. Can you do something about it, Spike?" "I make it a point not to interfere with the press. All I need is for the bullet to get down on me. You'll have to put up with a blow, like it or not." I didn't remind Spike Pulucci that Mr. Oldway could take in a job with a little radio station in Des Moines, like it or not. The new program manager wasn't impressed that Brad Croton and I were baseball announcers and also broadcast sports reviews. He put us in just as straight announcers with duties at rec. Me, a baseball announcer, with staff duties. I remember, oh, how I remember that campaign when the incumbent mayor was running against a reformer. Now those were the days when anybody running for office had to submit his speech to a radio station before he made it. The station lawyers went over it word-for-word, taking out this or that, and finally handing it to an announcer who was not only to read a disclaimer at the beginning of a broadcast, but had to follow the speech on paper while the candidate was giving it. If the candidate deviated by so much as one word, he was to be cut off, and the announcer was to go to a fill-in program. Now those were our instructions from the attorneys and from the program managers. Well, I had the mayor's speech all okayed by the rec attorney, and the mayor was to make it at 11.30 that night from the banquet room of the beachwood hotel. So there I was in the basement studio of Rec in the Bayhead Towers building alone, except for the engineer on duty in a master control room next door. Station WREQ in Bayhead now presents his honor, the mayor of Bayhead, speaking to you from the banquet room of the beachwood hotel. Station WREQ is not responsible for nor does it take any stand whatsoever on the speech schedule at this time. We take you now to the beachwood hotel and the mayor. It's our mayor! Get out of here! What is going on? Steve! That's lovely. See, go with this, or any other election in this town. He's got another thing to come on. I know reformer can understand me, right? Right, right, right, right, right, right, right! Oh, my, my, yeah! My course was clear, it had been laid out by the attorney and by management. Station WREQ in Bayhead now takes you to the Alpine room for music from you in Midvale and his orchestra. I ran to the master control room to show the speech to the engineer, Chester. I heard what you did. But did you hear what the mayor said? He didn't say anything that's even close to what the attorney okayed. Hey, what are you doing? Why are you pulling up your shirt? Look at that! Look at the skies on my chest. You want to see the rest of me? No, no, that's what they did to me. On a kind of a tube burned out of the remote equipment last year. All in a kind of one lousy tube. Hey, where are you going? Anyplace, but away from here. But you can't leave me alone in this place. I don't know what to do with all this equipment. Well, figure it out, right boy. You're the one who cut them there. Wait, wait! He's gone. What do I do? I'm coming, I'm coming! [phone ringing] Hello? Hey, W.R.E.Q. Who cut off the speech by the mayor? Well, I wouldn't know. I'm just a janitor. Well, we're going to find out and fix that patchy swag him for good. Hello? Hello? They're going to fix that patchy swag. Oh my gosh. Oh, what do I do? Let's see. Call the W.R.E.Q. attorney here. That's what I'll do, uh, see. Here's the number right on the speech. Hello? Oh, hello? Is this Mr. Lime Street? It could be. Who's calling? This is Blue Anchor. You know from Radio Station W.R.E.Q? Yes. Did you hear the mayor? Yes, I heard it. Well, I have the type of speech right here. And there's nothing like what he said in it. And the engineer just left. I'm all alone here. Good night. Just a minute. Mr. Lime Street? I have you Mr. Lime Street? Hello? Hello? He hung up on me. Oh, gosh, what am I going to do? Hello? Spike? Who's this? Oh, it's Blue Anchor. You ought to be in bed wrestling. And for the game, you've got to do it tomorrow. Spike, did you hear the mayor? What there was of him? I'm the one who cut him off. You cut the mayor? Yeah, it's a long story. But I just got a threatening phone call. Somebody's really put out because I cut off the mayor. I can understand why. Is there some freight cars alongside the river right there? Are we on the sighting? Yeah, yeah, right next to the river. Oh, I guess so. They always are. But what is that? I can't get out of that place now and go and hide. And a freight car? I'll send army in a car down for you. And that's what I did. I found an empty freight car and hid in it. I just clambered in when I heard a car drive up. I tried to say army, but no words would come out. It's a good thing they didn't. Nobody around authority was facing a music tunnel from a speak but nobody around, nobody. I don't know how long I stayed in that freight car, but it seemed like all night. It was only about 30 minutes later, actually, that I heard another car. I held my breath as the steps move closer. Then I heard... Ooh, hey, ooh, where are you? It's Army. Oh, I was never so glad to see anyone in my entire life before or after. I stayed at this store with the whitewashed windows all that night and until I had to go to the booth and to do what tightens out of town game. I tried to thank Spike Pulucci for saving me, but all he'd say was... And that letting nobody screw up our baseball games, not even the mayor. [MUSIC PLAYING] Spike Pulucci, Your Honor. Oh, yes, Pulucci. Well, you won the election. I said I would, Spike. It's part of your last speech being cut off from rec. Ah, W-R-E-Q. That was a good speech, too. Except you changed the beginning. That's why you were cut off, Your Honor. Oh, well, a little too much of the stuff that cheers. Well, that's no reason to be cut off. You know how radio stations are, Your Honor. I know how they are. A good grief this is 1934, just because a politician makes a few alterations in his speech is no reason to cut him off, especially when they make you pay for the time in advance. I understand you're planning to get that back. Well, you bet your boots and I will. It's either that or W-R-E-Q goes out of business. I'm not without my supporters on this. Well, as mayor of Bayhead, you should have no trouble making him give it. Not at all, Spike, not at all. Nice of you to see me, Your Honor. Where'd you drop by, Spike? I'm not really privy as the house Spike Pulucci calm down whoever was going to fix my wagon in that mixed-up year of 1934, but I often thought that if Pulucci and his gangsters hadn't taught me how they wanted their baseball announced and weren't such Arden Bayhead Titans fans. Well, I'd have had worse than my chess start up. I'd have been on a slab in a neighborhood morgue. [MUSIC] The mutual radio theater is brought to you five nights a week at this time. Tonight's original radio play, the baseball announcer, was written by Ted Shurdiman and produced and directed by Fletcher Markle. Your host was Andy Griffith. Our stars were Robert Towers and Frank Campanella. Featured in the cast were Frank Nelson, Byron Kane, Sidney Miller, Jerry Hosner, Barney Phillips, and Corey Burton. The music for radio theater was composed and conducted by Nelson Rippett, John Harlan speaking. The Elliott Lewis production of radio theater is a presentation of CVI. This has been CVI, join us tomorrow. I'll have another story to us, Parnish and mystify you. [MUSIC] And that's this week's mutual presents feature. The mutual audio network brings the best of old time radio and modern audio theater to the world. Be sure to subscribe through the mutual audio network podcast feed, any of our podcast days, or the mutual YouTube channel, which includes MadCon and many other extra features and shows. See you all next time at Mutual Presents. Good night.