When I first discovered old-time radio as a kid, I marveled at the thought of how people were once entertained by just sitting in front of and listening to a radio. To a child of the boob tube generation, it fascinated me to no end and I was anxious to hear what it felt like to while away the hours being entertained by a purely audio medium.
So, I decided to question my folks about their old-time radio experiences. The results from my father were not encouraging. “We didn’t have time to listen to the radio,” he said sternly. “We were always working.” (An image immediately flashed into my mind of a conveyor belt stretching to infinity, with my father and his siblings as children toiling endlessly 24-7-365.) My Dad grew up poor in a coal miner’s family in Appalachia during the Depression, and there’s a reason why they call it that—because there are never any happy stories. Never. Any anecdote that my father starts, you can bet the rent that something unpleasant or unfortunate will happen to its protagonist. My father used to fly into a rage whenever The Waltons came on; he would yell at the television set: “You’re not poor! You own a big piece of land! You have your own business, ferchrissake!” Since the pastime of radio was looked down as a frivolity by my Dad, I decided that it would be wise not to press the subject any further. (In his defense, however—he is a walking encyclopedia on the history of newspaper comic strips; his brothers and he used to tear apart the Sunday pages and imitate the artwork.) Ditto with my grandparents.
My mother was a different story—although she grew up in an era where radio was gradually losing its audience to that newfangled television, she vividly recalls staying at her grandmother’s house and snuggling together in bed, listening to the radio; Great-Grams did not own a TV set. I asked her if she could remember any specific programs and she responded: “We never missed The Lone Ranger.”
To address the lengthy and fascinating history of the best-known Western hero ever created would take me more “cloud status” that I’m allotted here at RadioUserLand/Salon; suffice it to say that there have been scores of well-written books covering that subject, from Dick Osgood’s Wxyie Wonderland: An Unauthorized 50-Year Diary of WXYZ, Detroit (which is, alas, sadly out-of-print) to David Rothel’s Who Was That Masked Man?: The Story of the Lone Ranger (also out-of-print, but easier—and cheaper—to locate than the Osgood book). Perhaps the greatest living authority on “the daring and resourceful Masked Rider of the Plains” is Terry Salomonson, who began researching the program in 1978, along with the Ranger’s companion programs, The Green Hornet and Challenge of the Yukon (a.k.a. Sergeant Preston of the Yukon). He has composed a log of the radio broadcasts that is a must-have for the true blue LR fan, and an article on the exhaustive history of “tracking down the Ranger” can be found here.
You all know the story—John Reid, a young Texas Ranger rides into Bryant’s Gap with five of his fellow Rangers (including his older brother Dan) and the group is ambushed by outlaw Butch Cavendish and his gang. Reid is found and nursed back to health by an Indian named Tonto (whom Reid also knew from his childhood) and as the lone survivor, he decides to dedicate the rest of his career to fighting justice. He wears a mask to keep secret his real identity—for he is…The Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger premiered over Detroit January 31, 1933 , and the program can take a lion’s share of the credit for creating what eventually became known as the Mutual Radio Network. The show remained a Mutual staple until May 4, 1942, when it switched to the Blue Network (later ABC), ending its long run on September 3, 1954 (although reruns of the show continued to be broadcast until May 25, 1956).
I listened to a Christmas-themed program from December 24, 1954 (a repeat broadcast; the original aired December 25, 1953 ) entitled “The Three Wise Men” last night. John Sinclaire and his family find themselves seeking refuge from a sudden winter storm in a barn; both he and his wife Anne are concerned about their son Davy, who is ill with what apparently is appendicitis. No sooner are they settled inside the stable when they hear a voice outside:
VOICE (from outside door): Hellooooo…!!!
JOHN: Listen…someone’s calling…
ANNE: Oh, see who it is, John…here’s the lantern…
JOHN: All right (SFX: walking to door, door opens, wind) A man!
ANNE: Anyone we know?
JOHN: No…he’s a rough-looking customer…
SMITH: Howdy, pardner…mind if I come in?
JOHN: No, no…not at all…there’s a stove, we have a fire going (SFX: grunting, door closes) you’re lucky you have snowshoes…
SMITH: I’d never made it through the pass without ‘em…
JOHN: So, you’ve come from Mountain City
SMITH: Never mind where I’m from…I…hey, there’s a woman in here!
JOHN: Oh…my wife…and that’s my little boy…I’m John Sinclaire—I’m working a claim on Rocky Creek….
SMITH: I’m interested in mining myself…the name is…uh, Smith…
ANNE: How do you do, Mr. Smith…
SMITH: Howdy, ma’am…
ANNE: It’s a terrible night, isn’t it?
SMITH: We’re always sure of having a white Christmas in the mountains…white, even if it isn’t very merry…
JOHN: Well…at least we have shelter...
(He is interrupted by someone banging on the door outside.)
SMITH: Who’s that?
JOHN: I have no idea…another traveler, perhaps…
(SFX: walking toward door)
SMITH: Stand aside from the door!
JOHN: Why are you drawing your gun?
SMITH: No telling who it might be (SFX: continued door banging) The door isn’t locked! Come in!
VOICE (from outside): I can’t! I have a man with me who’s really done for! I’m holdin’ him up!
SMITH: All right! Open the door, Sinclaire…
(SFX: door opens, wind)
NARRATOR: As John opened the door, two men staggered into the barn…John pulled the door shut behind them…one of the men was completely exhausted…and would have dropped to the floor if the other hadn’t lifted him bodily and carried him to the stove…
GREEN (with a slight brogue): Do you mind if I put him down here, ma’am?
ANNE: Oh no…is he hurt?
GREEN: Not that I know of (grunting) but we’ll have a look…I found him out in front of the station, lyin’ face down in the trail…
JONES (groaning): What is this place?
GREEN: What’s it look like to you? It’s a stable…here, I’ll get these snowshoes off of you…
JONES: No…no, I must keep going…
GREEN: Oh, now there’s a brave idea…you take two steps outside and fall on your face again…
JONES: Did I do that?
GREEN: You did (grunting) there…now I’ll take my own off…
JONES: Who are these people?
GREEN: Since we’ve just arrived (grunts) I’m in no position to make introductions…
JOHN: I…I’m John Sinclaire…a miner…this is my wife and the little boy is my son…
SMITH: My name is Smith…
GREEN: Is it now? And yours, my bucko? You, who’d like to fight the storm again?
JONES: My name is…Jones…
SMITH: What’s yours, Irish?
GREEN: We’ll say it’s Green…since I’m only competin’ with a Smith and a Jones, there’s no reason why I should tax my imagination…
JOHN: What do you mean by that?
GREEN: Just that my name isn’t Green…his name isn’t Jones…and his name isn’t Smith…and now that Mr. Smith realizes he’s among friends, he can put up his gun…
ANNE: I don’t understand…
JOHN: I’m afraid I do…these men are not what they…
GREEN (cutting him off) We’re three wise men who’ve come to pay you a visit on Christmas Eve…
ANNE: Wise men?
GREEN: Three wise men, ma’am…who are a little too wise for their own good…
SMITH: How do you figure you’re so wise, Green?
GREEN: A man was murdered in Mountain City tonight…and the Sheriff’s roundin’ up everyone who might have committed the crime…or anyone who might be suspected…it was a wise thing to get out of town…and from your faces, I can see that what’s true for me is true for you…and so I say again, we’re three wise men met together (sudden realization sets in) in a stable…on Christmas Eve…ah, there’s irony in that, men…
Well, you know—irony can be pretty ironic sometimes. Anyway, all three of the “wise men” have a motive for killing the man—Luke Devlin, “a crook, a cheat or a scoundrel.” (I guess they can’t quite make up their minds.) Devlin killed Green’s best friend Tim Moriarty and Green has sworn revenge. He was once partnered with Smith in a business deal and Smith was wiped out financially as a result. Devlin cheated Jones’ father out of a fortune and the elder Jones committed suicide not long after.
Meanwhile, Davy’s condition isn’t getting any better, and after examining the child, Jones suggests to Anne that a cold compress might provide some relief, as there’s no chance of getting him to the doctor in Mountain City
GREEN: Hey…I see a couple of lanterns near the rest cabin…two men…will you look now…a masked man and an Indian…
JONES: They must be outlaws…
SMITH: Their guns are slung low…they must be killers…I’d better shoot first and ask questions afterward…
JONES: If you shoot at all, you’d better shoot straight…
SMITH: I mean to…I have a bead on the masked man…
Will these people never learn? Of course, they’re not outlaws—and the amusing thing is, little fever-riddled Davy with the hot appendix has to point that out to them—it’s the Lone Ranger and Tonto, who have been trailing Devlin’s killer and know that one of the three “wise men” are responsible for his murder:
SMITH: You, uh…you have business with us, Mister?
LONE RANGER: With one of you…how did the Sheriff describe the man we’re after, Tonto…?
TONTO: Him six feet tall…weigh 180…him not shave, have dark beard…
LONE RANGER: What was he wearing?
TONTO: Heavy boots…mackinaw…
GREEN: The description fits all three of us…now may I ask what this man you’re looking for has done that he should be wanted by the law?
LONE RANGER: The man I’m looking for knows what he’s done…and I expect him to identify himself…
GREEN: Oh, do you now…? You seem very confident…
LONE RANGER: I am…because the man I’m looking for can save that boy’s life…
Their concern for the boy’s condition prompts the three men to tell their stories—and the masked man learns that Smith is really Nick Blaine, Devlin’s former partner, who got into a fist fight with Devlin earlier. But Blaine Warren Warren Warren
Yeah, I know—it’s sentimental and it’s corny. (But I’m the guy who breaks down watching Miracle on 34th Street, remember?) The Lone Ranger does pale in comparison to other classic OTR Western shows (Gunsmoke, Fort Laramie), and every LR episode is essentially a carbon copy of all the others. Still, it remains harmless fun—and I can’t think of any other old-time radio series that projects that sense of innocence that John Dunning describes as “where good always triumphed and evil was justly punished.”
There used to be an old joke that defined an intellectual as someone who can listen to the “William Tell Overture” and not think of the Lone Ranger. Sadly, as the years progress, the gag becomes a little too real—I’m sure there are more than a few members of today’s generation who have no familiarity with the legacy of the masked man. Fortunately, many of the old broadcasts are still with us today (Terry Salomonson has a large number of the 1938-44 run at the Audio Classics Archive) and cable stations like The Hallmark Channel feature the TV version of the show. In fact, my Mom went on a rant last week when the cable company announced that they were raising the rates (again) but when I told her that they would be adding the only cable channel currently carrying The Lone Ranger she calmed down somewhat. I just wish the man “who led the fight for law and order in the early western United States
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