Sunday, October 18, 2026 (Hour 5)

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the music of the stars on the air.

Live on the Civic Media radio network.

With a Halloween holiday right ahead.

Spooky themes, reminders of mortality.

In a sort of a...

fun environment that helps us all kind of process anxieties of the real world.

And that cooler weather outside with the changing leaves, it's a seasonal atmosphere which we're going to encourage right here on the music of the stars until high noon today, central.

It's the Civic Media Radio Network.

I'm your host Lou Ergoni.

You hear the best audience anywhere because you get it.

We didn't invent that there are people out there who, while it considers our focus on ghosts and darkness, as contrary to their beliefs.

Who can argue with that?

Paul Hallows-E.

and the music of the stars

is on the air.

Welcome to the house of death.

Maybe September I'll love again Maybe a rainbow will catch me

Little boy.

on a pillow in early morn I still see that gold

September

What if you can make a

song using only your voice?

Let's start with the drums.

I'm gonna hit drums and click cover.

Yes!

This is good.

Okay, perfect.

I feel like the song needs a rhythm guitar.

Changing it to guitar.

I'm gonna type in rhythm.

guitar okay I like this track I'm gonna copy it to the main all right now we're adding some bass bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum

bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum

bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum

If everyone watching this right now made a contribution, we'd reach our goal in seconds.

But I know not everyone can give right now.

So if you care about taking back Texas and can afford to chip in, then I need your support.

Thank you so

much.

Mara Music.

Sounds like a James Bond theme, but it's from Who Killed Teddy Bear?

1965.

Selminio as an obscene phone call.

The music of the stars for the holiday, for the season, and maybe you recognize this voice.

How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?

My name is Alfred Hitchcock, and this is music to be murdered by.

It

is mood music in a jugular vein, and I hope you like it.

Our record requires only the simplest of equipment, an ordinary phonograph needle, a four-inch speaker,

and a 38 caliber revolver.

Naturally the record is long playing, even though you may not be.

So why don't you relax, lean back and enjoy yourself until the coroner comes.

Trick or treat you say?

I'll be the trick.

You will be the trick.

It was time for the keyboard to go.

Here's what I use instead.

It's called whisper flow.

You press one key, you speak, and it writes

for you.

Music of the Stars, that's from what's the matter with Helen?

Debbie Reynolds, Shelley Winters on the piano playing it while Debbie Reynolds who was murdered and tied up like a scarecrow to the ladder rehearses and beyond the music of the stars.

Okay, I'm looking forward to it.

We're gonna be on the air till high noon today.

High noon and

Alfred Hitchcock in a Jocular vein.

It was inevitable that I would make a record.

After all, my measurements are 33 and one-third, 45 and 78.

Music to be murdered by was conceived in response to thousands of requests from members of my television audience.

The program seems to have inspired them to murder.

but did not furnish the proper atmosphere for it.

It seems that during the commercials, the victims kept jumping up and leaving the room.

Very annoying.

This album will contain no commercials, but I would like to say a kind word for your friendly neighborhood mortician.

Our next number is dedicated to him.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'll never smile again.

that first number.

1962, Julie Allred.

That was her only

movie.

Later on by Betty Davis in her own, for want of a better word, voice as the old crackpot Jane Hudson becomes after her career.

But there's a surprise ending, you know.

I'll leave it up to you.

Good picture, Frank DeVall wrote that music, married to Helen O'Connell, you know, in real life.

Old Jane, that's the voice she gets, if not her liquor bill, when it all dries up.

They requested that, wanted a whole bunch of sickly, sweet 1930s songs.

And Bobby Goldsboro's Honey, just a few of the stickier samples,

From whatever happened to Baby Jane, the music of the stars for the season, welcome everybody.

I

trust that everyone is enjoying the music.

As the title of the album suggests, this was meant for your listening pleasure while you are being done in.

However, anyone may listen.

We have no intention to discriminate.

After all, the murderer has as much right to enjoy himself as his victim.

Which brings me to this very practical aspect of our album.

If you turn the volume up very loud, it will drown out screams.

My next remarks will be directed to those of you who have already been murdered.

I hope you listen closely.

By now you

have

learned the sad truth that being a murder victim can be inconvenient at times.

There is a lack of certain bodily comforts.

You may already be on a cold slab in a drafty morgue or

you may be back at the scene of the crime, still warm and limber, waiting wearily while your murderer decides what to do with the body.

This is the knotty's problem connected with murder.

That is, unless your assassin is the highly original gentleman I once knew.

He waits until Riga Mortis sets in.

and then uses his victims for bookends.

Music from horror

movies.

And your friends have traveled afar There is someone waiting to guide you Look for a star For everyone has a lucky star That shines in the sky

There's a friend who's waiting to guide you Look for a star

There's a friend who's waiting to guide you Look for

a star Some years before he wrote a bunch of top ten hits for

Tula Clark, downtown, and Color My World.

Tony Hatch, under the name of Mark Anthony, wrote that song for the Bloodspect Circus of Horrors, 1960.

Became a major hit in the United States and England, and a lot of people don't know its origin.

It concerns a circus.

Personnel consists of former thieves and killers,

Gorgeous.

They're the ministrations of a crazy plastic surgeon.

Anton Differing.

Great, great actor.

It's not just a metaphor for Hollywood.

That song is played during the performances of Erika Remberg until she threatens to blow the whistle on poor old Anton Differing and concludes her act with a trick that you can only perform

Once, you see.

The music of the stars.

Not really a horror movie.

Journey to the center of the earth starring Pat Boone.

Walt Disney, 20,000 leagues and around the world in 80 days, Mike Todd, they figured Jules Verne should be big business in Hollywood.

And was he ever?

1959, 60, Arlene Dahl.

and a duck named Gertrude, Bernie Herman.

The music of the stars stand by for news on the civic media radio network.

The music of the stars till high noon on this very special holiday.

In advance.

Be right back.

The national news cycle never stops, but it can be hard to find news about your local community.

Civic Media is dedicated to providing quality local and state news coverage across Wisconsin.

With the Civic Media app, you can get notifications about local stories that matter to you and your community.

Find the free Civic Media app in your phone's app store and choose notifications from the menu to tell us what kind of news you want to hear about.

You're listening to Civic Media.

You can tune into any of our live shows on any radio station across the state with the Civic Media app.

Find us in your phone's app store and listen anytime, anywhere.

Good evening, my dear.

You're more beautiful than ever this evening.

What is known as my flip

side?

The way

is unbreakable,

but not bulletproof, so I urge you to be careful.

I can't put this too strongly.

Please don't stain the rug.

Put bullet holes in the walls or indulge in any unseemly struggling because it creates a bad impression.

People might think you are the type that throws wild parties.

It is undignified actions of this kind that give murder a bad name.

The music of the stars.

Hush, hush, sweet Charlotte.

Those lyrics originally sung by Joe Cotton.

The music of the stars.

Music from horror movies.

Lizzie Borden took an axe.

Bruce Derns in the movie.

Betty Davis.

And Al Martino.

Johnny Fontaine.

That was a big hit for Patty Page of Kenosha.

The singing rage.

Music of the season.

Next up, something from Porky

Pig

of 1939.

The music of the stars.

Louis Armstrong had a hit with that too.

If you stopped having people over because of your dog.

I didn't even yell, I didn't have to go grab him.

He just stopped on his own.

And this is him in five minutes, lying down like nothing happened.

And just a minute, I'll show you the only really haunted house in the world.

Since it was built a century ago, seven people, including my brother, have been murdered in it.

Since then, I've owned the house.

I've only spent one night there, and when they found me in the morning, I was almost dead.

Over shadows cross the land The leaves are dancing

Haunted Hill tonight so that my wife can give a party.

A haunted house party.

She's so amusing.

There'll be food and drink and ghosts.

And perhaps even a few murders.

You're all invited.

If any of you will spend the next 12 hours in this house, I'll give you each $10,000.

Or you're next of kin in case you don't survive.

Ah, but here come our other guests.

Well, you'll be tortured, you'll be taunted Trying to figure out which is haunted

Is it the hill

or actually the house?

Well, the joint is really kinda cool Got hydrochloric acid in the swimming pool The owner is a drunken leprechaun And that's not jerky, that's the mage He gets around on ro-

And you should see her try to mow the lawn.

Well, Vincent Price knows all of your sins.

Grab a gun and let's begin.

But keep away from the hero.

He's a perv.

And if you make it through the night without dying a boredom or a fright, a complimentary continental breakfast will be served.

Serve it up, boys.

song on wires and bring your hanging harness if you will so there's a song of the movie of the legend of the saga of the fable of the unabridged edition of the story of the people at the party at the house on haunted hill that's the people at the party at the house on haunted hill who's going to the after party

The house is a museum, when people come to see them, they really are a screum, the Adams family.

Neat, sweet, petite.

So get a witch's shawl on, a broomstick you can crawl on, we're gonna pay a call on the Adams.

Vic Mizzy, Rosa.

Here's Mel Torme.

Marty Page.

I can't get away from a vision that brings Intimate glimpses of intimate things A voice in my heart like a torch singer sings I wonder who's kissing or not

song the place is cluttered up with memories that have lived too long marks too long the ceiling is white but the shadows are black

By the...

Could

I

have free-

I'll be right with you.

I haven't finished snacking yet.

We get into an intimate situation.

And then begins this character's conversation.

He says murder, he says.

Every time we kiss, he says murder, he says.

At a time like this, he says murder, he says.

He says solid, he says.

Takes me in his arms and says solid, he says.

Meaning all my charms, he says solid, he says.

Is that the language of law?

He says, chick, chick, you torture me, zoop.

Ah, we live and I'm thinking of leaving him flat.

He says, dig, dig, the jumps the old ticker is given.

He can talk plain or them last.

He says, murder, he says.

Every time we kiss, he says, murder.

Keep it up like this and that.

He said.

How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?

My name is Alfred Hitchcock, and this is music to be murdered by.

It

is mood music in a jugular vein, and I hope you like it.

Our record requires only the simplest of equipment, an ordinary phonograph needle,

a 4-inch speaker and a 38-caliber revolver.

Naturally, the record is long playing, even though you may not be.

So why don't you relax?

Lean back and enjoy yourself until the coroner comes.

This turns rain into music.

Every neighbor who walks past...

Have you ever imagined someone was following you, caught a glimpse of a strange face in the crowd behind you, and then that face mysteriously seems to be with you wherever you go?

Sylvester Dodge had just such an experience.

Walk with me a bit, and I'll tell you about Sylvester and his man in the raincoat.

Sylvester Dodge was a man like you or me.

He worked as a bookie.

in the Wall Street office, and for many years he was saving for the day when he could afford his trip to Europe, away from ledgers and bank balances and adding machines.

Finally, the last week of Daily Toil approached, and anticipation thrilled his fat little body as he boarded the lecture to have a new look.

The big vacation loomed on his horizon as the reward of a dreary lifetime.

It was then that Sylvester Dodge first noticed the man in the raincoat with the curiously shaped umbrella.

Something about the man made Sylvester shudder.

The man's face was a deathly white, and the hands surrounding the handle of the umbrella were like great claws.

The flesh of the fingers were horribly gnarled and ghastly green.

Sylvester could not bear to look at him.

But even in turning away, he felt the eyes of the man, boring into his back, like twin beams of awful light.

You know the feeling, don't you?

Someone who's looking at you, staring at you, eyeing you with such a terrible concentration that you want to scream or cry out, stop, stop!

When the train reached the station, Sylvester rushed from his car like a man released from prison.

The man in the subway had shocked him, but then again, you do meet all kinds of people in New York, don't you?

And so Sylvester Dodge began the five-block walk to his office.

The sun was out.

April breezes caressed the stone buildings, and people hustled along with spring steps.

But Sylvester had that curious feeling that I mentioned to you.

Someone was following him.

He felt eyes, peering at his back, could feel somebody's interest and attention focused on his rounded body, hurrying through the crowd.

He found himself walking faster, faster.

He stopped for a streetler, panting for air.

He turned, a deathly white face in the crowd, bobbed like a halloween skeleton, and vanished.

Sylvester Dark's world, enraged across the street, his coat didn't fly.

He stopped again, a block away from his office, and a fluggerback would look.

There was the man in the raincoat, waving his claw-like hand, and greeting thee.

The umbrella dangled him from the rest.

Something pounded in Dodgers' scum.

Desperately he raced the remaining block, fell against the building wall, gasping for breath.

He turned slowly, fighting for his reason, but no.

There was the man with the raincoat, ten yards away, coming towards him.

The gas he faced was smiling, the umbrella was outstretched, almost as if it were seeking something.

Sylvester Dodge pushed out from the wall and left the protection of the building.

At that precise moment, the grand piano that was being hoisted to the office on the fourth floor swung awkwardly on its pulley.

The rope snapped, and its great weight crashed to the sidewalk.

Pinning Sylvester dodged to his death.

So you see, poor Sylvester tried to run away from his fate and dodged in the wrong direction, all because he had the silly notion that someone was following him.

Well, I'll leave you here, my friend.

Huh?

Well, you don't think my face is so awfully white, do you?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I seem to have dropped my umbrella.

Would you mind very much handing it to me?

Building a system is one of the most important

things... Poor devil.

You didn't have a chance.

you

Are you traveling far?

The next time we met, the sun shone all day.

We walked and we talked till the evening was gray.

He took me out dancing.

Still alone The cards are all down He's taken my m-

better.

really scary stuff.

NBC knows, and the music of the stars will return.

The national news cycle never stops, but it can be hard to find news about your local community.

Civic Media is dedicated to providing quality local and state news coverage across Wisconsin.

With the Civic Media app, you can get notifications about local stories that matter to you and your community.

Find the free Civic Media app in your phone's app store and choose notifications from the menu to tell us what kind of news you want to hear about.

You're listening to Civic Media.

You can tune into any of our live shows on any radio station across the state with the Civic Media app.

Find us in your phone's app store and listen anytime, anywhere.

Music of the holiday.

What do you mean, which holiday?

Happy Halloween.

The music of the star.

Civic Media, Radio

Network.

Music.

Teddy bear who's been good is sure of a treat today.

There's lots of marvelous things to eat and wonderful games to play.

Beneath the trees where nobody sees they'll hide and seek as long as they please.

That's the way the teddy bears have their picnic.

Picnic time for teddy bears.

The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today.

Catch them, catch them on the wells, and see them picnic on the holiday.

See them gaily gad about.

They love to play and shout they never have any cares.

At six o'clock their mummies and daddies will take them home to bed, cause they're tired little teddy bears.

If

you go down in the woods today, you'd better not go alone.

It's lovely down in the woods today, but safer to stay at home.

For every bear that

ever there was will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their pig.

A

few months ago...

The stars have lost their glow.

Still the mighty organ thunders, where the ancient shadows.

A happy organ, and here's back to Bach.

In swing time, you see.

As a main a thing, if it doesn't have that dia-pason.

Music of the Star.

I got a few getting D minor with...

Shadows cross the land The leaves are dancing, gold and grand A chilly wind comes sweeping through Beneath the Wisconsin sky of blue

The pumpkins grin, the black cats roar

The children hurry from their home With

bags for candy, eyes to glow Through streets where autumn breezes blow

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

oh,

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

oh, oh

the lakeshore to the valleys where the haunted moonbeams gleam.

Halloween in Wisconsin

is a

sweet

and spooky

dream.

In Milwaukee, ghosts are flying, witches on their broomsticks high.

Great big pumpkins line the doorway.

Spooky bats go sailing

by.

Down the streets, the children wander with

their costumes all agl...

Knock on doors as the night went through And the jack-o'-lantern shines so bright

Like stars on Halloween night Oh, Halloween in Wisconsin Hear the laughter, hear the cries There's a little bit of magic underneath October skies From the Lakeshore to the V-

Pathways dance along those winds that blow.

There's

a skeleton to swing in.

There's a scarecrow in the square.

And a little ghost in sneakers with a pillowcase to spare.

Richland centers, hills are glowing in the twilight's fading light.

While the old trees stand like sentries on this crisp October night.

Through the valleys past the farmsteads where the harvest moon hangs high.

You

can almost hear the witches laughing softly

as they fly.

trick or treaters

have all hurried home to sleep

and the shadows growing longer where

the quiet sidewalks creep

there's a whisper in the north wind

there's a chill upon the

breeze with a thousand halloween dreams

whisper softly in the trees

oh halloween in wisconsin let the art of magic play milwaukee racing canosha i'll celebrate today wisconsin rapids is glowing

Richland Center joins the scene There's no place like Wisconsin on a haunted Halloween

So light another pumpkin

Let the autumn moonlight shine

With some good Wisconsin mischief

And memory sweet as wine

When the leaves are red and golden

And the stars shine sharp and bright

Happy Halloween, Wisconsin

Have a spooky sweet...

this holiday came about when

it

all started why it exists well we're about to tell you it ain't no fairy tale but it's grim once

upon a time in the long long ago man's courage was high but his spirit was low

people grew tired of all work and no play they felt the need of a job

Then along came Christmas, along came Easter, along came Fourth of July.

Then along came a man by the name of Berlin, who

took

every holiday that ever has

been.

He

wrote about Christmas.

He wrote about Easter.

He wrote about the Fourth of July.

His mind was fertile and his pen was keen.

But he never wrote a word about...

We'll now go dramatic with ghosts from the attic and make it up right

Jeff and Pat's dream house.

They knew it, they knew it, the moment they laid eyes on it.

It was a mansion, really, 18 rooms, charming mold-painted frame with steep gables and a cupola, a wide porch overlooking the river.

There are a number of unique and charming homes in Nyack, New York, but the Stambovskis had their hearts set on this one.

And yes, it was for sale, and yes, Jeff and Pat inquired immediately, the price tag was staggering.

$650,000.

The owner was a widow.

They were told a woman named Helen Ackley.

She was asking $32,005 as a binder.

Well, Jeff and Pat swallowed hard, but they came up with that cash.

And it was only then that they learned the rest of the story.

It was a local fellow who was an architect.

in Nayak who, after becoming acquainted with Jeff and Pat, invited the disturbing news.

Regarding the home they'd fallen in love with and now planned to purchase, it seemed that the seller, Mrs. Ackley, did not have sole claim to the house.

Oh, she owned it all right.

But Mrs. Ackley was living in Orlando, Florida, while another family was living in her Nayak home.

I said another family was living in the Nayak home, and those tenants were not about to move out.

I wonder, let me stop here a second.

You happen to see the movie Pacific Heights about the annoying tenant who refused to leave a young couple's dream house.

If you saw that movie, you know that it's sometimes legally impossible to evict a troublemaker, sort of like possession is nine tenths of the law, that sort of thing.

And faced with just such a dilemma, Jeff and Pat contacted the owner and asked for their money back.

They were no longer interested in buying the house, certainly not with another family living in it.

Would Mrs. Ackley please return their $32,500 binder?

But the answer was no.

And thus, two years ago, began a court case which has just now been legally resolved.

The appellate division of the New York State Supreme Court has decreed that the Stambovskis may now sue Mrs. Ackley for the return of their earnest money.

But the most intriguing and potentially significant aspect of the case is a majority opinion upon which that ruling was based.

There never has been such a pronouncement by any judge in any American court ever.

So the New York State Supreme Court may have opened a legal Pandora's box when it acknowledged the occupancy of a house, which might to you or me appear utterly vacant.

That's right.

In this case, Stambovsky versus Acle, it's...

It's another kind of possession which has been declared nine-tenths of the law.

For you see, when the legal owner of that charming house in NIAC accepted $32,500 as a down payment, she neglected to inform the prospective purchasers of what the New York State Supreme Court has now decreed.

that the house is otherwise occupied by ghosts.

And this, according to Justice Israel Rubin, quote, is fact as a matter of law.

The house is haunted, end quote.

And that the tenants, who refuse even still to vacate the Stambavsky's dream house,

First took up residence there more than 200 years ago.

Now you know the rest of the story.

The ghosts are coming closer, Mr. Lauren.

You really believe in your pet ghosts, don't you, Pritchie?

Before the night's over, you will

too.

The house is haunted by the memories that refuse to die.

I can't get away from a vision that brings intimate glimpses.

And my heart like a torch singer sings I wonder who's kissing her now The house is haunted by the echo of your favorite song The place is cluttered up with memories that have lived to

But the shadows are black The ghost in my heart says she'll never come back The house is haunted by the echo of your last goodbye

I set dinner on the dining room sideboard at six You can serve yourselves Breakfast is ready at nine I don't wait on people

I don't stay after dinner, not after it begins to get dark.

I leave before dark comes.

We live in town, nine miles, so there won't be anyone around if you need help.

We couldn't even hear you in the night.

Why would we?

No one could.

No one lives any nearer than town.

No one will come any nearer than that.

The house is haunted by the echo of your lust.

There's no one in the nursery.

It's down here.

It seems to me we've been on this kick before.

The expectation must really go somewhere else.

I must really go somewhere else.

that your bridge is supposed to be haunted.

I don't suppose that'll worry

you.

Breakfast at nine, if you're allowed to eat at me.

Good night.

I must have gotten hold of some tired blood.

Oh darling, I'm such a lucky

girl.

since I was 21, 100 years old.

You don't look a day over 2,000, my

dear.

Oh, thank you.

I'll be right back.

I've got to put our little monster to bed.

Anemic, are you still awake?

Yes, Mommy.

How many times have I told you not to call me Mommy?

Then there were three bats, a papa bat, a mama bat, and a baby bat.

They lived in a beautiful cemetery, and one day they went out shopping at the blood bank.

While they were gone, a little girl named Goldilakja got lost and was very, very tired.

She came upon their tomb and went inside and fell fast asleep.

When the three bats came home,

The Papa Bat said,

Someone's been sleeping in my nest.

And the Mama Bat said, Someone's been sleeping in my nest.

And the Baby Bat said,

Someone's been sleeping in my nest and must up all the poison I

think.

So the three bats ate up the little girl and lived happily ever after.

Now open your eyes.

Go to sleep.

And tomorrow you can see your favorite television show, that, Monsterson.

Good night, Mommy.

Good night, whatever you are.

Is he asleep?

Yes,

my love.

Bright and blue.

It's so nice of you to join us.

Could I offer you a goblet?

It's delicious.

Yum yum.

where the better go.

and foreswing the shriek themselves into a cheerful trance.

When the skeleton in the closet started to dance.

Now goblin, he giggled with fiendish glee.

A shop ran out from a big man's sheen.

Our basement was in...

Music of the Stars be right back.

The national news cycle never stops, but it can be hard to find news about your local community.

Civic Media is dedicated to providing quality local and state news coverage across Wisconsin.

With the Civic Media app, you can get notifications about local stories that matter to you and your community.

Find the free Civic Media app in your phone's app store and choose notifications from the menu to tell us what kind of news you want to hear about.

You're listening to Civic Media.

You can tune into any of our live shows on any radio station across the state with the Civic Media app.

Find us in your phone's app store and listen anytime, anywhere.

the music of the stars for the holidays.

And just a minute, I'll show you the only really haunted house in the world.

Since it was built a century ago, seven people, including my brother, have been murdered in it.

Since then, I've owned the house.

I've only spent one night there, and when they found me in the morning, I was almost dead.

Well, you'll be tortured, you'll be taunted Trying to figure out which is haunted

Is it the hill

or actually the house?

Well, the joint is really kinda cool Got hydrochloric acid in the swimming pool The owner is a drunken leprechaun And that's not jerky, that's the mage He gets around on rollin'

blades and you should see her try to mow the lawn.

Well Vincent Price knows all of his sins, grab a gun and let's begin but keep away from the hero he's a perv.

And if you make it through the night without dying a boredom or a fright a complimentary continental breakfast will be served.

Serve it up boys.

I said dinner on the dining room sideboard.

Where's Mark?

Where?

I thought he'd been here before

anyone else.

You serve yourselves.

I'll clear up in a moment.

Have you known Dr. Mark Brennan?

I have

breakfast ready at nine.

No, I've never met

him.

I

don't stay after six.

Not after it begins to get dark.

The only contact with him has been our correspondence about the, uh, quote, experiment.

Unquote.

I leave before the dark comes, so there won't be anyone around if you need help.

No one can hear you if you scream in the night.

Isn't that so, Mrs. Dudley?

No one lives any nearer than town.

No one will come any nearer than that.

In the night.

In the dark.

The caretakers will leave at midnight, locking us in here until they come back in the morning.

Once the door is locked, there's no way out.

The windows have bars that the jail would be proud of, and the only door to be outside locks like a fault.

There's no electricity, no phone, no one within miles, so no way to call for help.

Like a coffin.

going to be the first visitors that Hill House has had since Mr. Crane died.

These

are beautiful.

I know.

I've seen them.

It's a lot to dust.

I've never seen

this kind of beauty.

You must love working here.

I set dinner on the dining room sideboard at six.

You can serve yourselves.

Breakfast is ready at nine.

I don't wait on people.

I don't stay after dinner, not after it begins to get dark.

I leave.

before dark comes.

We live in town nine miles, so there won't be anyone around if you need help.

We couldn't even hear you in the night.

Why would we?

No one could.

No one lives any nearer than town.

No one will come any nearer than that in the night, in the dark.

that's earned the title of our tune of the day from the new Broadway show inside USA and is entitled Haunted

Heart.

Oh.

Oh.

Or was it?

This is a tale that the inmates of bell prisons still whisper in the cell yards and corridors to this day.

The story of John Day, a lifer, and his weird nocturnal dreams.

It happened long ago, but cell 13, but it began, still enjoys its haunted history lesson.

And I'll tell you about John Day and his nightmares.

One night,

12 midnight, the stone and steel corridors of Roeay rang with the horse, terrible shouts of a man screaming for the guards.

The prisoners so rudely awakened but normally have grumbled and yelled their annoyance, but something in the horrible moans and sobbing, issuing from cell 13, still their towns.

The guards rushed to the cell

and

swung it open to find John Day.

Crouched in the corner on the floor by his bed, now whimpering and crying, his hands to his throat.

At the sight of the guards, he blurted about his nightmare.

The hands, he babbled, the hands.

Thick, calloused, lumpy hands, they were choking me.

Oh, just a nightmare, the guards laughed.

But that wasn't the end of it.

It was only the beginning of many nights when Roe abled.

be similarly disturbed.

John Day and his nightmare about someone strangling him became the talk about prison.

And John Day himself sentenced to life imprisonment grew steadily thinner and paler.

The warden refused to listen to his pleas for another cell.

He wouldn't cater to the winds of convicts.

The prison doctor insisted that John Day was only shanning because other than a loss of weight, he was organically and mentally sound.

But still the nightmare persisted.

And John Day's nocturnal outcries became a familiar sound that the prisoners accepted as another wiggle of their hard existence.

But one night came a new sound.

The escape sirens wailed over the yard.

John Day had escaped, attacked a garden, and gone over the wall.

The entire organization of Bell Prison went into action.

Guards with bloodhounds scoured the surrounding countryside, and only two miles away, one guard with his dog, came on a strange sight.

A came stir for this heavy wagon pulled over from one side of the garden, lying on the ground.

Still in his prison uniform, his eyes bulging unnaturally in his head.

Lay John Day.

He was dead.

The guard approached the big teamster, a birdie giant, and questioned him.

The story was simple enough.

John Day had halted him with a gun to make use of the wagon and the teamster had fought back.

Luckily, John Day's gun had misfired and the man had been able to get his hands around his throat.

The guard shot his flashlight on the Teepster's hands.

They were thick, calloused, and lumpy.

Big, thorny fingers had had strangled the life of John Day.

Only a nightmare Bell Prison had thought.

Just a convict's curious dream.

But when John Day's dead bodies returned to the prison morgue, the story of cell 13 became the terrible tale that it is to this day.

And what of your dreams and your nightmares?

If you ever imagine that fingers are at your throat throttling you, don't twist and turn.

Wake up.

Open your eyes.

Maybe it's just a dream, but...

Someone could be killing you.

to be or not to be.

That is the question.

Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and allows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.

To die.

To sleep no more.

And by a sleep, to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, it is a consummation devoutly to be wished, to die, to sleep.

A chance to breathe.

Aye, there's the rub.

Um, there's that more, but, uh, I'll give you some of the idea.

Hope it didn't bore

you.

Oh, stop!

Beautiful!

That was beautiful, Mr. Farrar.

More beautiful.

Okay.

John Barrymore.

From a Kate Kaiser movie.

Fred Waring, The Steamsong.

my lord is dead she should have died here after there would have been a time for such a word tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

creeps in this petty place from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time.

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusted death.

Out, out, brief candle.

Life is but a walking shadow.

A poor player that struts and frets his hour up on the stage.

And then it heard no more.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sand and fury, signifying nothing.

Sleepy time gal, you're turning night into day Sleepy time gal, you danced the evening away Before each silvery star fades out of sight Please give me one

Let's whisper goodnight It's getting late and dear your pillow's waiting Sleepy time gal When all your dancing is through Sleepy time gal I'll find a cottage for you You will learn to cook and to sew

What's more, you're a love lover When you're a stare, don't play at home Eight o'clock, sleepy time

getting late and dear your fellows waiting sleepy time gal when all your dancing is through sleepy time gal I'll find a cottage for you you learn to cook and to sew what's more you

What

of the frightened?

Do you whistle past the graveyard?

Well then, perhaps you'll really like the rest of us.

So come with me.

Just a short ride through the hills past the old burial grounds where Count Alexis met the lady in the

The famous castle of the Alexis family had long towered on the hillside in the Bavarian Valley.

Count Alexis himself, the last surviving member of the historic clan, was tall and handsome and kind.

Indeed, the only wonder in the village was when would he marry and raise a son to continue the glory of his ancestors.

And then once torn tossed night when he was out on the marshes with his hunting dog.

Alexis saw a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman in a long, flowing veil, walking across the meadows towards her.

It seemed her carriage had overturned on the bridge and crashed into the raging waters of the Cassin River.

Her driver and horses had perished, but she had managed to save herself.

The Count had already surrendered to the romance of their meeting, but...

Only the hound dog seemed to whimper and growl and behave badly than ever the lady drew near him.

But the Count insisted that the lady be his guest and took her straight to his castle.

Within a fortnight, Alexis had wooed and won her.

And the village celebrated the wonderful news that Alexis would have an heir.

But in the days preceding the marriage, the young Count seemed to be failing in health.

He lost weight so that his uniform seemed to hang on him.

And curiously enough to the staff of the castle, Sonia, their future mistress, fairly glowed with health since her ordeal in the river.

But when no one could recall see her in the daytime, rumors began to spread.

The old wives' tales about vampires who stalked night and sleep in the daytime swept through the village like wildfire.

And finally, up in the master bedroom where he lay exhausted,

Count Alexis himself had to credit the rumors.

How else this sudden loss of weight and failing health?

And why should Sonia's blooming good health coincide exactly with the loss of his own vitality?

Count Alexis made up his mind.

He pulled the bell cord by his bed and summoned his man, served.

When the fellow appeared, the Count asked his fiancee, be brought to him.

But the servant shook his head.

The lady Sonia had gone up before dawn, riding off to the west, as was her usual custom.

Count Alexis had hurt enough.

He dressed, armed himself with a short dagger, and ordered his fastest horse.

He funded down the castle road off to the west, towards the very spot where he had first met Sonia.

He carried his horse carefully over the hailing ground.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

A stone slab set him the earth, covered over with vines and leaves.

Triumphantly, he dragged it to one side and looking down, he could just make out an open coffin with Sonya lying in it.

A pale beauty in blood, red lips gleaming in the dying light.

Alexis drew his dagger and raised it for the kill.

It is said the only way that you can kill a vampire is a stake through the heart while it sleeps.

But suddenly, the dagger fell from his hands and a slow, eerie smile played over his face.

Like a stone man, he settled down beside her to wait for the vampire's arm.

For he had learned Sonya's secret too late.

Too late to stop him from becoming a vampire himself.

See now, my friend?

See?

There is two bats wheeling through the darkness.

It's Sonia and Count Alexis winging through the night and waiting for the chance to assume human form again.

You don't believe me?

Well, I'm sorry.

The people of the village will believe nothing else.

My, my, my, but you do have a soft, delicate...

You still wake up sometimes, don't you?

You wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the lambs.

Yes.

And you think if you save poor Catherine, you could make them stop, don't you?

You think if Catherine lives, you won't wake up in the dark ever again to the awful screaming of the lambs.

How my thoughts go flashing back again to my old flame I've met so many who had fascinating ways Of fascinating gaze in their eyes Some who took me up to the skies But their attempts at love were all

to be the same until I discover what became of mo-

to my old flame.

My old flame.

My new lovers all seem so tame.

They won't even let me strangle them.

For I haven't met a girl so magnificent or elegant as my old flame.

I've met so many who had fascinating ways, a fascinating gaze in their eye.

I saw this eye, so I removed the other eye, that eye that kept winking and blinking at other men.

It was me, I was... Some who took me up to the skies.

But their attempts at love were only him it.

Nations of my old flame I Can't even think of her name What was her name Doris Laura Chloe many Mo Jack No, it couldn't have been more I can't stand it.

I tell you this is driving me sane She would always treat me mean

So I poured the can of gasoline and struck a match to... My

heart.

Let's go.

Hurry up.

Oh, boy, I've been waiting six months for a fire.

What do you mean, you've been waiting six months for a fire?

I want to show my new pack.

What pack?

Wait a minute, boys.

Listen to me, I'll get you out of it.

You go that way, you go that way, and I'll take care of the center.

Go!

Sober shadows cross the land The leaves are dancing, gold and grand A chilly wind comes sweeping through Beneath the Wisconsin sky of blue

The pumpkins grin, the black cats roam The children hurry from their homes With bags for candy, eyes aglow Through

streets where

autumn breezes blow

Oh Halloween in Wisconsin hear the laughter

October skies from the lakeshore to the valleys where the haunted moonbeams gleam.

Halloween in Wisconsin is a sweet and spooky dream.

In Milwaukee, ghosts are flying, witches on their broomsticks high.

Great big pumpkins line the doorway.

Spooky bats go sailing by.

Down the streets, the children wander with their costumes all aglow.

While the bells of autumn ring out, and Lake Michigan's breezes

blow.

Princesses too

Knock on doors

as

the night winds

through And the jack-o-lantern shines so bright Red stars on Halloween night Oh, Halloween in Wisconsin Hear the laughter, hear the cries There's a little bit of magic Underneath October skies From the lake shore to the valleys Where the haunted moonbeams gleam Halloween In Wisconsin is a sweet and spooky dream Here Wisconsin Rapids River Whispered tales of long ago

While the leaves along the pathways dance along those winds that blow.

There's a skeleton of swinging.

There's a scarecrow in the square.

And a little ghost in sneakers with a pillowcase to spare.

Richland Centre's hills are glowing.

In the twilight's fading light.

While the old trees stand like sentries on this crisp October night.

Through the valleys past the farmsteads where the harvest moon hangs high.

You can almost hear the witches laughing softly as they fly.

When the final trick or treaters have all hurried home to sleep.

And the shadows growing longer where the-

there's

a whisper in the north wind

there's a chill upon the breeze

with a thousand halloween dreams

whisper softly in the trees oh halloween in wisconsin let the art of magic play Milwaukee racing canoes shall celebrate today

Wonderful to see

you visiting our home

again.

Did you think you'd make it back after the last time?

for the really scary stuff.

NBC News at 11 o'clock central.

Did I say that right?

Oh, all right.

Oh, that was loud enough.

It was too loud?

Okay.

The music of the stars will continue for yet another hour.

I heard somebody say, oh darn, what was that?

Who said that?

Call security.

I'll be right back.

Lovergane, the music of the star.

Civic Media.

Boa-ha-ha.

Go ahead, Tim.

The national news cycle never stops, but it can be hard to find news about your local community.

Civic Media is dedicated to providing quality local and state news coverage across Wisconsin.

With the Civic Media app, you can get notifications about local stories that matter to you and your community.

Find the free Civic Media app in your phone's app store and choose notifications from the menu to tell us what kind of news you want to hear about.

You're listening to Civic Media.

You can tune into any of our live shows on any radio station across the state with the Civic Media app.

Find us in your phone's app store and listen anytime,

anywhere.

The summer days are gone The maple leaves are turning red And golden fields roll on Along the roads the colors glow Beneath the northern sky And every little Wisconsin town Has autumn passing by

Wisconsin in October What a beautiful sight to see With the colors on the hillsides And the leaves upon the trees From the lake shore to the country roads There's magic in the air

Oh,

Wisconsin in October There's autumn everywhere The pumpkins line the farm stands The cider starts to float in The football lights are shining on a cooler

From La Crosse to Kenosha From Green Bay to Eau Claire The colors paint Wisconsin With beauty everywhere A country road, a covered bridge A farmhouse on a hill October writes a picture at the heart

Little scallow wags with fiendish gags can make it tough on you.

So when goose and goblins buy the score, ring the bell on your front door.

Better not be stingy or your nightmares will come true.

Trick-or-treat, trick-or-treat, trick-or-treat for Halloween.

When the pumpkin shells cast evil spells.

Your little white house turns green.

We

can do that

too!

Come on to my

house, to my house I'm gonna give you candy Come on to my house, to my house I'm gonna give you apple and plum and an apricot

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

Come on to my house, my house.

I'm going to give you figs and dates and grapes and cakes.

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

Come on to my house, to my house I'm gonna give you candy Come on to my house, to my house I'm gonna give you everything

I'm gonna give you Christmas tree.

Come on, come on, come on to my house.

I'm gonna give you a pomegranate.

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

Come on to my house, my house, come on.

I'm gonna give you beach and pear and I love your hair.

Come on to my house, my house, so come on.

Come on to my house, my house, so come on.

Come on to my house, my house.

I'm gonna give you candy.

Give you everything Come on, come on to my house

That was the composer, Ross Magnussarian,

David Seville.

Eartha Kidd.

Glad you could

stop

by!

Come on to my house, my house.

Come on now.

Come on to my house, my house.

This is

a song about a sleepy

monster.

They shot my...

on the tower and shadows claim the night.

A mighty voice awakens from the darkness.

Voice calls and one replies Like a raven through the skies Round and round the echoes fly Climbing toward the midnight sky

The bells are ringing and the stars have lost their glow.