ROSH HASHANAH IN THE E.R.

by Steven Steinbock

Life has a funny way of intervening at inopportune times.

Wednesday afternoon as I was nearly finished with this column, I got a phone call from the high school football field. My son Nate the Running Back got tackled by the biggest kid on the team and now his shoulder doesn’t look quite right. I clicked SAVE and dashed in the car, ignoring all speed laws, I sped to the field. An hour later we were in the Urgent Care center at Brighton Medical Center. X-Rays showed that he had snapped his clavicle. Dang! It’s a good thing his mom is out of town. We didn’t get home until almost 10pm. On to our regularly scheduled column.

Listening to Crime

About six weeks back, here on the pages of Criminal Brief, I wrote about my impressions of the Smithsonian Legendary Performers: Edgar Allan Poe CD box set put out by Radio Spirits. For the past week I’ve been listening to a lot of old radio dramas (or what aficionados call “OTR” for Old Time Radio). For no other reason, I’ll share some more thoughts and impressions on the broader experience of listening to these wonderful old programs.

For the longest time, the hard-core OTR fan base was a pretty off-beat group of folks with big reel-to-reel machines and thick eyeglasses. Before magnetic tape, they would cut their own vinyl recordings. Many of these recordings were originally made with the old RCA Victor recorder shoved up to the speaker of the radio as these shows were first broadcast. Over the years, the fans copied and exchanged their tapes usually by means of fan newsletters and organizations with obscure initials like SPERDVAC. They would scour over old newspaper radio listings to compile logs of programs, listing as much production information as they could of every episode of a series.

When the Internet and personal computing hit mainstream, fans could not only communicate via the web, but soon began webcasting old programs. Digital sound technology has given rise to the MP3, and the hobby evolved further. One hobbyist, Chicago’s Carl Amari, spread his enthusiasm not only with his syndicated radio program, “When Radio Was,” but also by publishing old programs, first on cassette and then on CD, through his company Radio Spirits.

I’m not sure if Amari is still directly connected with Radio Spirits, but the company is doing well with its various thematic box-sets and collections. They sent me about a half-dozen to review, which brings me right back to where I started this column.

Mystery OTR programs fall into two groups: anthologies and ongoing hero-based series. Hero series included shows like “Dick Tracy,” “The Shadow,” “The Adventures of Sam Spade,” and “Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar.” Each week the crime is investigated, solved, and often narrated by same detective, be he a cop, a private eye, or an amateur sleuth. (And it was nearly always a “he” in case anyone wants to accuse me of sexist writing).

For anthology shows, on the other hand, each episode was an independent standalone thriller which scripts adapted from novels and films, as well as radio originals. Anthology shows included “The Lux Radio Theatre,” “Suspense,” “Inner Sanctum Mysteries,” and “The Mysterious Traveler.” A lot of well known mystery writers did regular stints writing for radio. John Dickson Carr frequently wrote, and often hosted radio programs. The very first broadcast episode of “Suspense” ” perhaps the best of the mystery anthology series, was entitled “The Burning Court,” written by Carr and based on his novel of the same name. Robert Arthur, who ghost-wrote and ghost-edited for Alfred Hitchcock and wrote the “Three Investigators” children’s series, created and wrote “The Mysterious Traveler.” Each week programs such as these aired a different story, many original and many based on popular novels or films. They featured great actors and actresses from stage and screen such as Charles Laughton, Joan Fontaine, Gregory Peck, Olivia de Havilland, Humphrey Bogart, Mercedes McCambridge, and of course, Orson Welles.

Yesterday I listened to “The Campbell Playhouse” adaptation of Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It was old (1939) and scratchy, but nevertheless brilliant. Orson Welles played Poirot as well as Dr. Sheppard the narrator. He also introduced the show with an unapologetic manifesto in praise of mystery fiction. (I’ll try to transcribe his words and publish them here next week).

Listening to these anthology programs gives me the same sort of experience I get from reading standalone short stories.

One of the more unusual “hero” series on radio was “I Love a Mystery,” which featured an ensemble team of three detectives, Jack, Doc, and Reggie. Jack Packard was the tough leader of the group, Doc Long was the lovable Texan, and Reggie York was the proper Englishman who could hold his own in a fistfight. (During the Mutual Broadcasting System run of the series in the 1940s, Tony Randall played Reggie).

Stories in “I Love a Mystery” stretched over multiple episodes, and all began with what appeared to be a supernatural crime or crisis. By the end of each story, with ample fight scenes and humor, the trio from A1 Detective Agency would uncover a human face behind the evil. The cartoon series “Scooby Doo Where Are You?” was based on “I Love a Mystery” both for its ensemble cast and for its debunking of the seemingly supernatural. (Edward Hoch’s “Simon Ark” stories and a lot of John Dickson Carr’s work follow the same tradition of finding a human face behind ghosts and demons).

There were a couple of movie adaptations of “I Love a Mystery” over the years, but in an amazing stroke or serendipity, the 1973 Universal made-for-TV film, based on the story “The Thing That Cried in the Night” starred a young actress named Melodie Johnston. Yes, that’s our Melodie the Tuesday High-Heeled Gumshoe. Melodie played the role of Charity, the hysterical daughter (granddaughter in the original radio drama) of a California tycoon whose estate is being haunted by some kind ominous creature that cries like a baby. Charity, whose sisters were named Faith and Hope, was played by Mercedes McCambridge in the original radio drama.

Next week I’ll go into a bit more detail about the stories and scripts that were heard on anthology programs like “Suspense” and “Inner Sanctum Mysteries.” Until then, remember, the weed of crime bears bitter fruit. The Shadow knows!