“On, King! On, you huskies!”

Since I discussed both The Lone Ranger and The Green Hornet in previous blog entries here at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear, leave us tidy up the loose ends and devote some space to the third program of WXYZ’s juvenile adventure triumvirate—Challenge of the Yukon. Debuting over the famous Detroit, Michigan station on February 3, 1938, it would spend close to twenty years entertaining its young audience by venturing “back to the days of the Gold Rush with Sergeant Preston…and his wonder dog, Yukon King.”

That’s what pretty much set Challenge of the Yukon apart from its two siblings—the hero in this series was an Alaskan husky. Oh sure, Sgt. William Preston might have received top billing—especially when the series was renamed Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, beginning in November 1951—but let’s be honest, folks…Preston was the faithful companion on this program. Why else would he close practically every episode with “Well, King—thanks to you, this case is closed.”

The year was 1938, and the success of the two earlier WXYZ programs prompted station owner George W. Trendle to consider a new adventure show—again, something along the lines of The Lone Ranger, only with a dog as the hero. The staff immediately ruled out the concept of a Lassie-like dog, since they wanted a working pooch in an action series. Writer Tom Dougall solved this dilemma almost immediately; he had already been fiddling around with a northwest motif (inspired by the poems of Robert W. Service) and a working dog in that neck of the woods would almost have to have been a Husky—with a Canadian Mountie as its master.

Challenge of the Yukon—as with The Green Hornet—borrowed many of the successful devices used on The Lone Ranger: real he-man adventure with a larger-than-life hero, set to a classical music theme in Von Reznicek’s Donna Diana Overture. (This piece had often been used as part of the background and bridge music on Ranger.) Preston also had a horse, just like the Masked Rider of the Plains, though the sergeant generally used his steed (named Rex) only in the summer months. Many of the same actors, writers, and crew members from the other two shows also toiled on Challenge as well: John Todd (a.k.a. Tonto and Dan Reid on Hornet) was Sgt. Preston’s superior officer, Inspector Conrad, on this series and Brace Beemer himself essayed the role of Preston during the program’s final year on radio. The part of Preston had previously been played by Jay Michael (1938-47) and Paul Sutton (1947-54), with soundman Dewey Cole trodding the boards as the barking Yukon King.

Last night I entertained myself with four 15-minute episodes of Challenge of the Yukon from its WXYZ days in 1943. They’re all pretty interchangeable (plus I prefer the half-hour shows as a rule), but “Meeting the Terms of a Contract” is a good representative example, originally heard July 15, 1943. Vance and Duval, a pair of no-goodniks, have hatched a scheme to scam the local trappers: they’re going to burn down a warehouse where the trapper’s priceless pelts are stored, only they’ve substituted the valuable merchandise with cheap dog and wolf furs so that no one will be the wiser. When Preston stumbles onto their scheme, they tie him up in the warehouse, and it looks pretty bad for our favorite Mountie until King chews on his ropes and frees him. The other three episodes involve the discovery a murdered man in the snow, an elderly couple bilked in a shady land deal, and a friend of Preston’s accused of murder. I would say that he remains quite the busy boy for the entire hour, were it not for the fact that the damn dog does most of the work.

WXYZ maven Terry Salomonson has compiled a log for Challenge of the Yukon, and notes that there were 484 episodes broadcast during the show’s local Detroit run. The series really didn’t start becoming popular until it moved to ABC Radio on June 12, 1947. (The show later went over to Mutual on January 2, 1950, where it completed its run June 9, 1955.) During the network years, Challenge of the Yukon was sponsored by Quaker Oats—specifically, Quaker Puffed Wheat and Puffed Rice: “The breakfast cereal shot from guns!” Even today, members of The Old-Time Radio Digest often discuss the subject of a once-famous promotion from the series, the “Deed to One Square Inch of Yukon Land.” The Quaker Oats people bought over 19.11 acres of land near Dawson (for the princely sum of $1,000) and divvied it up into square inches and printed 21 million “deeds,” packing them in cereal boxes. It was one of the most successful premiums ever, with all that cereal being snatched up by consumers in a matter of weeks. (The sad story is, the Quaker Oats people—realizing that it would be next to impossible to register 21 million separate deeds—set up a company called The Klondike Big Inch Land Company as the registered owner…which ended up losing all of the land in 1965 due to an unpaid tax bill of $37.20.)

Challenge of the Yukon’s place as a pop culture classic is still relatively secure; it later made the successful leap to TV in 1955 for a three-year stint on CBS starring Richard Simmons (no, not that one) as Sgt. Preston, and was even the subject of a novelty hit by singer-songwriter Ray Stevens. The series remains entertaining today, and if it doesn't possess the same luster as its WXYZ comrades it's only because, as author Gerald Nachman points out, the show “was really the Lone Ranger on ice.”

”He hunts the biggest of all game! Public enemies who try to destroy our America!”

While you insert your own John Ashcroft joke here, Thrilling Days of Yesteryear will take a moment to recognize one of radio’s most popular juvenile detective shows—The Green Hornet. Debuting January 31, 1936, this entertaining crime drama originated from WXYZ in Detroit, Michigan—the birthplace of another famous crime fighter, The Lone Ranger, only three years earlier.

George W. Trendle, the station's owner, was positively giddy with the success of The Lone Ranger, and by 1935 began looking for a derivative of the famous western—not a spin-off, necessarily, but a similar series that would feature a modern-day hero. The show’s writer, Fran Striker, and director, James Jewell, kicked around a few ideas with Trendle, and a decision was made that the new show would focus on an individual forced to confront the forces of corruption in politics and society. Legend has it that Trendle wanted to link the new program to some sort of a bee—which originated from a night he once spent in a hotel room in which a bee had been trapped, buzzing constantly.

Originally, the show was to be called The Hornet, but WXYZ was worried about possible legal entanglements since that title had once been used for a previous series. The show's creators decided to link their insect with a color, discussing various hues like blue and pink, before deciding on the color green. (I have been told that a “green hornet” is considered the angriest of its kind, but since I make it a point to avoid angry hornets whenever possible, I cannot verify this—ultimately, you’ll have to make the call.)

In developing the show, the fertile minds of WXYZ liberally borrowed many of the devices associated with The Lone Ranger. The Hornet’s mode of transportation, for example, was a sleek, black automobile nicknamed “Black Beauty.” (The Ranger, as you are well aware, rode a steed dubbed “Silver.”) Also, the Hornet operated outside the law (though he himself was not lawless) in the same fashion as the Ranger, and was often mistaken for a criminal by both citizens and the police. Finally, the Hornet had a faithful sidekick in Kato—a Filipino valet who was chief-cook-and-bottle-washer to his boss, while at the same time dabbling in chemistry (many of the Hornet’s weapons, like his gas gun and smokescreens, were dreamed up by the K-Man) and the secrets of Oriental combat. One of the popular myths about Kato that refuses to die even to this day is that he was Japanese when the series first premiered, but the show’s producers changed his nationality after the events of December 7, 1941. It makes a good yarn, but it’s simply not true—he was described as being Filipino (of Japanese descent) at least two years earlier. Kato was said to possess a “keen intelligence,” and I’ll bet he was a hit at the Mensa meetings, since he was also the only one who knew the Green Hornet’s real identity: newspaper publisher Britt Reid.

Which brings us to the final Lone Ranger parallel: Britt Reid was the son of Dan Reid who, as faithful listeners know, was the nephew of the famed masked man. (A controversy rages on to this day over whether this was planned from the get-go or if it just conveniently happened as the series progressed—I’m not going to open up this can of worms, however.) In the early days of The Green Hornet, Britt was a callow playboy (which served as a nice cover for his Hornet-related activities) and his wealthy father (that silver mine sure came in handy), concerned about the direction his son’s life was taking, installed him as the publisher of the family’s newspaper, The Daily Sentinel. Dan Reid only made occasional appearances on the program, but when he did he was usually played by John Todd—who just so happened to play Tonto on the The Lone Ranger, further cementing the bond between the two shows.

The job as newspaper publisher came with a bodyguard—a former Irish cop named Michael Axford, who was a garrulously nice guy but seemed to have a force field of stupidity surrounding him. (The character was a contribution from a previous Trendle production, Warner Lester, Manhunter, which had just been given the heave-ho by WXYZ.) Later in the series, rank favoritism reared its ugly head as Axford was installed as a reporter for the newspaper. Mike would become apoplectic at the mention of “the Har-nut,” and vowed to the end of his days to catch “that no-good spaul-deen” but…well…Coyote…Road Runner…you do the math.

Rounding out the cast of characters on The Green Hornet was Reid’s secretary Lenore Case (“Casey” to Axford, “Miss Case” to Britt), who seemed to have a little more moxie on the ball than her co-workers; she often suspected a strong connection between her boss and the Hornet and by the end of the series’ run had pretty much figured it out, though she kept it to herself. Also present at the paper was the Sentinel’s top reporter, Ed Lowery, who often got the scoop on those stories later investigated by the Green Hornet. (I’m often concerned when I listen to those episodes in which Lowery isn’t around; if that paper had to depend solely on Axford it would fold like a card table.)

Like its sister show, The Lone Ranger, The Green Hornet’s memorable opening music was taken directly from classical music: namely, Rimsky-Korsakov’s “The Flight of the Bumblebee.” The show’s announcer would then intone: He hunts the biggest of all game! Public enemies that even the G-men can’t catch! As you may have guessed, this got FBI director J. Edgar Hoover’s undies in a bunch, and so the producers modified the last part to Public enemies who try to destroy our America! The talented sound effects crew at WXYZ was also able to find a way to reproduce the bee’s buzzing that had so obsessed Trendle by using a theremin, an instrument that later became de rigeur for any self-respecting science fiction film of the 1950s (as well as being featured in the classic Beach Boys hit, “Good Vibrations”).

I listened to a pair of episodes from 1946 last night, in which the part of Reid/The Hornet is played by actor Robert Hall, who appeared on the series from 1944-51. The show’s original Hornet was Al Hodge, who started from its debut in 1936 until he went into the service in 1943. (Hodge was so identified with the character that Universal had him come in and dub some of the lines for the Hornet in the 1940 13-chapter serial based on the radio show. He later achieved television immortality as Captain Video.) In the first show, “The Wrapped Book” (October 5), Reid is trapped into delivering a bribe to a corrupt senator who plans to vote against a bill that would regulate the publishing and newspaper industry (and though I hate to look at this through 21st century eyes, the fact that Reid is in favor of this bill stretches credibility somewhat). The second show, “The Prodigal Brother” (10/27/46), concerns an ex-con who is being blackmailed by a racketeer into participating in a grocery truck heist; the ex-con’s sister (who thinks he’s dead) has recently married a popular state senator, so that’s bound to complicate things some. Though some might perceive the show as hokey, I’m a fan of The Green Hornet because it was one of the first programs I listened to when I got involved in the old-time radio hobby. Unfortunately, the sound on these two shows wasn’t much to write home about, but my understanding is that Terry Salomonson (who will forget more about The Green Hornet than I’ll ever know) is on the case regarding the poor audio of most Hornet programs in circulation.

The Green Hornet remains popular today with OTR fans, and deservedly so—it’s amazing when you consider that this show, The Lone Ranger, and Challenge of the Yukon originated from a local station and was fed to a nationwide audience (but then again, WXYZ was not your average radio station). It takes us back to a simpler time, back when things were looked at in black and white—and when the bad guys and evildoers would be brought to justice “by the sting of the Green Hornet!”

”A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty Hi-Yo Silver!”

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’s WXYZ radio on 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 with the storm as bad as it is. Green goes outside to soak his bandana in the snow:

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 didn’t kill Devlin, and neither did Green—whose real name is Mike Tulawney. Devlin told the Sheriff who shot him, and the Sheriff told Tonto—it’s Henry Warren, a.k.a. Jones, or to be more precise Doctor Henry Warren. He pointed a gun at Devlin but couldn’t go through with it, and in the ensuing struggle Devlin was shot. The Lone Ranger then reveals to Warren that Devlin isn’t dead, just wounded, and Tonto produces Warren’s medical bag, which the Doc had dropped on the trail during his flight from town. Warren operates on young Davy, and saves the boy’s life—and the youngster is presented with a new puppy for Christmas, courtesy of the Lone Ranger and Tonto.

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” were around to administer some justice to those cable weasels, because, well, Jesse used a gun and they called him an outlaw. Hi-Yo Silver…away!