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Morning everybody, let the fun begin.
What fun Halloween.
A great season when you can be anything you wanna be.
I like horror movies.
Even the fun ones,
yeah,
they're fun.
But that's what it's all about, isn't it?
The countdown is on.
As your eye on a costume, yeah?
Have you seen It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, you kids?
Halloween with its dark history.
It's actually a religious holiday.
All the spirits good and evil, fairy and pixie, witch and wizard on this night will sure be stirring.
Arthur Peterson, that's just one.
My family and I were really celebrating Halloween.
We would buy a paper mache pumpkin.
They used to make them.
And roast the seeds, which was fun.
And we'd give away the candy and all that.
See, back then it was a kid's holiday.
Now we've stolen it.
And they're not happy.
Who can blame them?
I will be on the hurdle high noon today.
With the music of the stars on the Civic Media Radio Network.
The music of the stars with music of the season.
What kind of season?
Pumpkin spiced.
Strangely enough, I have more Halloween music.
And then I do Christmas.
I'm not kidding.
But Halloween was a big thing on radio.
Maybe less so now, hm?
come out here oh well never mind then I don't want to tell you that your bid is supposed to be haunted I don't suppose that'll worry you breakfast at night if you're alive to eat
any good night
and the ceilings leak of the roof's antique.
If you hear a shriek and your legs feel weak, it's a haunted house.
It's a dislo moan like a weird trombone, and the old ham bone is suddenly thrown.
You are all alone with a great unknown in the haunted house.
There's only one good spirit.
It's the spirit in the bottle.
With shaking hands, you pull the cork and pour some down your throat.
It's a bank of chains with a smell of drains and a gory stain with a dukeless plain.
If you've got your planes and pateco's planes in the haunted house.
It's a haunted house.
The air is full of clammy claws of clotchoo by the collar.
So gargle night and morning just in case you have to holler.
And lights and stripes and awful stripes in flesh-been tights.
For the dead of night comes a woman in white, so you're quite all right in the haunted house.
When the old church box strikes twelve, there's a knock with a sudden shock.
You remember the lock on the door, there's a crock-o while you mock at the haunted house.
It's the blackest pitch and your eyeballs twitch in the darkest knits.
It's the dirty witch and the lighting switches out of reach in the haunted house.
When the slave is
filled with
gravy, why
is she so pallid?
Something poster in the pantry when she bets the salad.
I'm filled with dread, yes, I'm nearly dead.
I saw her head underneath my bed.
Come out if you can, I can do with a man!
Music
from England, that's Ray Noble.
And his new Mayfair Dance Orchestra recorded 1931.
That was Ray, by the way, doing the voiceover.
Ray Noble with so many hits that came to America.
Great stuff.
I'm stuck
For a tender kiss or two You might discover
and stand.
Francis Albert Sinatra, 1959.
Pranky Trumbauer right there with chivalry stomp.
More stomp than chivers.
Did you ever feel as if you couldn't breathe?
Your tongue is thick in your mouth, your throat is hoarse, your lungs are bursting for air.
It seems as if the walls of your room are closing in on you, crushing you, crowding you, sealing you off from the rest of the world, and then you awake.
It's only been a ghastly dream, a terribly vivid nightmare.
But with your eyes opening, your hands trembling, and your body bathed in perspiration, you relax.
At least you're in your own room safe.
It was only a dream.
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.
Listen, and I'll tell you about John Day and his nightmares.
One night, at 12 midnight, the stone and steel corridors of Roe Ae rang with the horse terrible shouts of a man screaming for the guards.
The prisoners so rudely awakened that normally have grumbled and yelled their annoyance, but something in the horrible moans and sobbing, issuing from cell 13, still their tongues.
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.
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 would be similarly disturbed.
John Day and his nightmare about someone strangling him became the talk of bad prison.
And John Day himself sentenced to life imprisonment grew steadily thinner.
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 siren.
The escape sirens wailed over the yard.
John Day had escaped, attacked a guard 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 teamster with his heavy wagon pulled over to one side of the border, lying on the ground, still in his prison uniform, his eyes bulging unnaturally in his head.
Late on 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 shone his flashlight on the teamsters' hands.
They were thick, calloused, and lumpy.
Big, thorny fingers had had strangled the life out of John Day.
Only a nightmare, Belle...
had thought just a convict's curious dream.
But when John Day's dead body was 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.
Was I?
the stars I'm sure.
Doors Day, 1958.
From
the movie with Clark Gable, Gig Young.
Warner Brothers on Movies Horror.
The Music of the Stars, Gordon Jenkins.
Let's go dreaming on this Halloween morning.
My first dream had an educational flavor.
I was a college professor about to inflict a botany lecture upon my students.
As I walked to school, the whole business suddenly seemed unbearably dull.
It seemed so stupid to sit inside on such a nice day, pondering the structure and functions of plants and such.
As I entered the classroom, I was struck with a noble and incredibly high resolve.
Good morning to you, students.
Good morning to you, sir.
Today, our usual lecture, we will defer.
I have a brand new project, and I hope you'll all consent, because we're going on a journey to the firmament.
Today, we're going to learn to
fly.
Now, there's no need to get overly excited.
Just simmer down a bit, and I'll explain the whole procedure to you.
Open every window, open every door, and leave a friendly message for the janitor.
Have him call the Prexy and advise him of our flight, and say we should be back about next Thursday
night.
I think the idea is peachy.
I'm glad I wore my slacks.
Will the teacher give us wings to put on our
backs?
I've often thought of trying, but I never really dared.
The feeling must be most exciting.
On game!
have to do to learn to fly is look the teacher squarely in the eye then count to three knock on wood
our initial flight.
Be careful on the takeoff, students.
All
right.
Don't forget your carbon lipstick.
Don't forget your cigarette.
Shall we exit through the window, students?
Sunset too!
Don't you think we've had enough now?
Shall we put our wings away and get back to the college
students?
Okay, we shall surely be the...
I had on a conductor's uniform, complete with ticket punch, service stripes, all the trimmings.
I decided on an inspection tour starting with the observation car, the one so favored by our more prominent politicians around election time.
Speeches made from an observation car always seemed to be a little longer, a little duller, a little harder to
understand.
the budget to finance the double entry credit governed, of course, by the inflationary debentures that inevitably lead to a fluctuating mortgage, thus liquidating any obligatory debit.
he should evade the tillers of our soil, negating the marketing aspects of crop rotation as outlined in Form 77B.
Hooray!
Hooray!
What'd he
say?
How do you stand on
foreign policy?
What does you stand on foreign policy?
I'm glad you asked me that.
I view with alarm the iconoclastic tendency towards isolationistic totalitarianism, promulgated by selfish benefactors solely by...
As I continued my tour, I was fascinated by the wonderful names on the Pullman doors.
Names like, Minot Light, Wanooski, Grotto's Tower, Cab Walleter C. Washburn.
I opened a few of them and went into the dining car.
A young mother and her small boy seemed to be having a little trouble finishing their meal.
Are we
there yet?
Sit up straight
and eat your soup.
Mommy, I have to.
You just went, you just
went.
Eat a little of your meat.
I don't like this meat.
Try a little of your cheese.
I don't like this cheese.
How about some apple pie?
I don't like apple pie.
You don't like apple pie?
I want some ice cream.
Can't I have some ice cream?
Well... Are we there yet?
Mommy, are we there yet?
Mommy, mommy.
No, we're not there yet.
And if you don't quit...
There
goes your milk.
Waiter, waiter.
Oh, all right, come on.
And the next time I take you
anywhere.
Sounded just like my little boy.
Well, right next to the diner was a club car.
I guess the bar at one end had a little to do with the unrelenting jollity of those present.
One fellow in particular seemed to be monopolizing the conversation.
Well, now, I'm a demon salesman.
I'm the nivest wire.
When a customer is tough to sell, it's me they hire.
I'm drawing down the tidy sum of 90 per, plus the various expenses that I may incur.
When it comes to pad and swindle sheets, I know my stuff.
If the auditor gets tough with me, I call his bluff.
I'm about to be promoted with a juicy raise.
And I see my wife on weekends and on holidays.
Cause I'm a family man.
Cause he's a family man.
Yes I'm a family man.
Yes he's a family man.
Now they're after me to run for mayor.
And I might.
I'm a booster, I'm a joiner, I'm a leading light.
The women follow me around, but when they do...
I'd just politely tell him, 20, 3 skidoo, cause I'm a family man.
Cause he's a family man.
Yes, I'm a family man.
Yes, he's a family
man.
Say, I heard a pitiful story the other day.
It's a little risque, but I can see that you fellas have all been around.
Now, stop me if you've heard this, but it seems there were two Irishmen on a bus.
Stop.
Stop.
What do you mean, stop?
I've heard that one.
Well, maybe the rest of the gang hasn't heard it.
But those things really get around fast.
As I walked on, the train began gradually to slow down.
The scattered lights through the car windows led me to believe that it wasn't a regular stop.
After the train halted, I stepped off for a breath of middle-western air.
As I left the cigarette, I heard a voice from the shack across the way.
I hear the train are coming It's rolling round the bend And I ain't been kissed, Lord Since I don't know when The boys in Crescent City Don't seem to know I'm here That lonesome whistle seems
to tell me Sue disappeared.
When I was just a baby, my mama told me, Sue, when you're grown up, I want that you should go and see and do.
But I'm stuck in Crescent City.
Just watchin' live in Mosey Bay When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and cry I see the rich folks eatin' in that fancy dinin'
They're probably having pheasant breasts and eastern caviar.
Now I ain't cryin' envy, and I ain't cryin' me.
It's just that they get to see things.
I've never seen
Here's John Denver.
The music of the stars for the
season.
Or lacy kinds of things Jenny counted box cars Instead of counting sheep She could go anywhere When she went to sleep
to try.
My third dream was one of those that seemed almost too real.
Thinking back upon it, I find it hard to believe that it was all a fancy of the shadows.
I seem to be a caretaker.
A caretaker in a lonely
field.
until my feet are numb so the place will look nice when the visitors come visitors come on Sundays mostly mostly they
come
from church sometimes they come from a drinking hall but mostly they come from church but few have come to see me and few would like to be me and few even know I'm there except
the ones beneath my care.
He took care of me when my luck was slim And now I'm doing the same for him
Here's a child
Years old John from the poor folks farm.
He never did much work, but he never did much harm.
He was called no good by the well-to-do, but the children thought old John was the nicest man they
knew.
There is still a ride.
They were too young to understand why old John had gone away.
Nobody cried when old John died.
Nobody cried when old
John died.
But when the wind starts to howl in the cold gray light, it's somebody crying for John this night.
That's just good.
there's a village hidden deep in the valley beneath the mountains high above and there twenty years thereafter Jimmy
All the chapel bells were ringing.
It was a great day in his life.
Because the songs that they were singing were for Jimmy and his wife.
Then the little congregation prayed for guidance from above.
Bless, O Lord, this celebration May their lives be filled with love From the village hidden deep in the valley One rainy morning dark and gray A soul winged its way to heaven
Jimmy Brown
had
passed away Silent people gathered in the chapel
To say farewell to their old friend Whose life had been like a flower But in blooming till the end
Just a lonely bell was ringing
Jimmy brah
The music of the stars for Halloween.
Let's keep dreaming right after news where the real horrors lie.
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You're listening to Civic Media.
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Find us in your phone's app store and listen anytime, anywhere.
The music of the stars for Halloween.
Frank Sinatra
Jr.
If there's one song identified with Halloween, which says it all, it's this one, Eartha
Kitt.
Come on to my house, my house, come on.
Let's do it.
Come on to my house, my house.
Come on to my house, my house.
Come on to my house, my house.
kandemo kandemo agimasu.
I'm gonna give you candy.
Come on to my house, my house.
I'm gonna give you apple and plum and an apricot too.
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 gonna 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, my house I'm gonna give you candy Come on to my house, my house
I'm gonna give you everything Come on to my house, my house I'm gonna give you Christmas tree Come on, come on, come on to my house
Come on.
Come on.
I'm gonna give you candy Come on to my house and my house I'm gonna give you
Big
brown eyes, pretty pink dress Gotta get to your eyes
Pretty pink eyes, dress Gotta
get to your house
Pretty pink hair, big brown dress
Gotta get to your pink
house.
She ain't home?
I'm Frederick Lauren.
And I've rented the house on Haunted Hill tonight so that my wife can give a party.
A haunted house party.
She's so amusing.
There'll be food and...
Perhaps even a few murders.
You're all
invited.
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 rollercoaster
blades 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.
Oh, that's nice.
Look out for Ponzi English liars.
Don't trip over skeletons.
Hang 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.
Who's going to the after party?
city town and village knows of him by now there's a way to recognize him let me tell you how now if your path at midnight dark by a graveyard goes and someone whistles why that's mysterious blows or on some dark and stormy night while the tempest blows if someone whistles
That's mysterious, Mose.
He sees all, knows all, he gets in everywhere.
Now, some night, he might wait for you upon the stairs, so when you're going down the cellar, walk upon your toes, and if someone whistles, that's mysterious, Mose.
Sleep by the pee-pee-pee of a flute from down below.
If someone whistles, why, that's mysterious moans.
Now, if a dawn of an early morn a trumpet softly blows, if someone whistles, that's mysterious moans.
He sees all, knows all, perhaps a clarinet or a bass horn.
or anything that he can get.
He plays on every instrument, but there's just one tune he knows.
When someone whistles, that's mysterious mode.
research in the orchestra and the old star radio novelty orchestra Happy Halloween music of the star The October
moon is rising There's a chill in every breeze And the ghosts are out in Wisconsin Drifting through the autumn trees There's a pumpkin on the doorstep
There's a skeleton
out
dancing By a creaky old tombstone There's a black cat
While the bats above the rooftops make their shadows cross the sky There's a werewolf near the wood pile There's a ghost beside the door And a monster in the attic Who keeps asking Trick or treat some more Out in Richland Centre
throw a spark through the fields and down the highways past the farms and old barns too Halloween is stirring mischief beneath the skies of blue remember dressed as pirates which is cowboys kings and queens when the neighbors gave us apples and the porches glowed with seams when the chilly wind of October
And the children all have grown But October brings a memory That will always be our own There's a sweetness in the darkness There's a laughter in the air And the spirit of Wisconsin puts a lid
The music of the stars.
What rhymes with stars?
I see guitar, no.
That's Tommy Dorsey, Sam Donahue on Tenor, the music of the stars.
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
tongues.
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 Rowe would be similarly disturbed.
John Day and his nightmare about someone strangling him became the talk of bell 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 to 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 out 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 mall, 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
My six dream was a nightmare
There after me there after me I've got to get away for life is colored rosy red and death is colored gray
They're after me, they're after me They've caught me by surprise And a hag in front with seven heads Is waving seven knives And one is throwing hand grenades And one is throwing fits They aim to hang me by my heels And carve me up in bits They're after me, they're after me The wheels of danger churn The boil and oil is flaming high And I'm too young to burn They're after me, they're after me There's hate in every eye I hear them coming closer now
I stole some bricks when I was six and I'm afraid to die.
You better run real fast.
You better run real fast.
You better run real fast.
Yeah, that's it.
I'd better run real fast.
I'd better run real fast.
I can't.
I'll scream for help.
There's my grammar school.
Bristol school.
My teacher will help me.
Miss Elliott will help me.
Miss Elliott!
Miss Elliott!
Miss Elliott, help me!
What is an adverb?
Well, an adverb is... An adverb is... What is an adverb?
It's... She won't help you!
She won't help
you!
The church.
Reverend Jones will save me.
Reverend!
Reverend!
They're after me!
Do you know your
catechism?
Well, some of it... I've been busy.
Do you know your catechism?
I'm afraid I am.
He won't say you, he won't say you.
There must be someone to turn to.
I know.
My mother.
I never saw you before in all my life, son.
Never saw you before in all my life,
son.
There after me, there after me, and no.
and heats my call.
I have no place to run to now.
My back's against the
wall.
We've got you now, we've got you now.
We need some blood that's fresh.
And you will feel our veins and steel tearing through your flesh.
We've got you now, we've got you now.
The slice of both your ears.
You won't need them anymore.
You're sure he can't get
away?
Alright then, Cyclops.
1922, on a cylinder.
But it's grim.
Once upon a time, if Malone 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 jolly holiday.
Then along came Christmas, along came Easter, along came 4th 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 4th of July.
His mind
was fertile and his pen was keen.
But he never wrote a word about...
Your spats will now go dramatic with ghosts from the attic and make it a bright Halloween.
brings you an hour, a full 60 minutes of suspense.
Tonight starring Eddie Bracken and featuring William Conrad in Nightmare, based on the short story by William Irish, directed by Anton M. Leader and produced by Robert Montgomery.
This is Robert Montgomery.
Good night.
You know, when you stop to think about it, one of the nicest things we say to one another is, good night.
A lot of thoughts are implied in those two words, and all of them are good.
Actually, what we're saying is, have a good night.
May it bring you rest, may you sleep well, and if your sleep is invaded by dreams, may they be pleasant dreams.
All good, well-intended thoughts bound up neatly into two brief words.
Good night.
Good night, good night.
It's time to say good night.
Good night, good night, good night.
What more is there to say but good night.
We've had a few laughs and it's time for Toodaloo.
I'm Revo, I'm Weedazane.
Inka-dicka-do.
I say goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
What more is there to say but goodnight?
We've had a few laughs, and it's time for Toodaloo.
I'm Revo, I quit his aim.
wherever you are.
Jimmy Durrani at the keyboard.
Bing Crosby.
That was one of radio's greatest moments.
Suspense.
What it does to me Just a moment I think you are mine That's the moment I get the well-known sign Out of line you always Keep me on the fence You build me on
I just come back so you can keep me in suspense.
You build me up, and then you let me down again.
Sometimes I say I'll go away, but what's the plan?
I just come back, so you can keep me in suspense.
of the stars, Randall High Noon Central Time, on the Civic Media Radio Network.
Last month, I was out in the middle of the street when I came across
this.
Congratulations.
You found a boat in the middle of the ocean.
What do you think a ship like this could be worth?
It depends on if we have the right to salvage it.
I do know one thing.
Sea gives you an opportunity to take it.
a legend of the Antonia Grazza.
It was a ship that sailed in cruise service until it vanished.
Decades later they found it floating near the Antarctic where it vanished.
Nobody knew why.
the Antonio Grazza.
What a, what a story and they found recordings on there of Francesca the singer.
Francesca was, she was noted on every cruise for her wonderful music with the orchestra in the lounge.
Grazza was operated by the Italian line.
It was one of three brand new state-of-the-art ocean liners to help revitalize Italy's merchant navy after the devastation of World War II.
In Genoa, the Ensaldo shipyard built all three liners.
The Andrea Doria, the Cristofaro Colombo,
and the Antonia Grazza.
Only one of those ships would avoid disaster and have a long career like the White Star Line's Olympic class liners.
Marine engineers studied the Doria and the Colombo's first years of service and found it where they could make improvements.
And because of that, the new Antonio Grazza was slightly larger than her sisters.
Interestingly, though, diesel engines were installed instead of steam turbines.
It's quite possible this was an attempt to improve the systems.
In any case, the Grazza's diesel engines gave her a top speed of over 25 knots.
And by the time the ship was launched,
October 25, 1954, the Grazza was being hailed as the pinnacle of Italian shipbuilding.
The Italian line spared no expense.
They outfitted the Antonio Grazza.
Artists from all over the world worked on the lavish interiors.
And she lived gentle on her maiden voyage.
It was Halloween, 1955.
Under the command of Captain Roberto Ruggiero, met with tremendous fanfare wherever she went.
The Garazzo was immediately popular everywhere with passengers.
It was known as a happy ship.
There was an aggressive advertising campaign in her first years.
It was the Antonia Grazza that restored the Italian line to its pre-World War II eminence.
But those times wouldn't last long.
The Grazza left Genoa for the last time.
May 14, 1962.
Captain Ruggiero was once again in command, as he had been since the maiden voyage, nearly seven years earlier.
A man who had spent a lifetime at sea and he served the Royal Italian Navy in two world wars.
A master mariner.
He exuded confidence and competence.
Perhaps no better man to command the Antonia Grazza.
And as they departed Genoa, Captain Ruggiero waved goodbye to his wife, Bianca, and Tunic, dear his daughters Sophia and Adia from the starboard locking.
None of them could have known
What was to happen in just a few days?
As usual, the Antonio Grazza stopped to pick up passengers.
And their lead singer, the nightclub entertainer, the star of the ship,
Francesca Gianco Rimina.
Known as Francesca, she boarded in Naples.
The American comedy, Alan and Rossi, trio.
Wanted her to star in a brand new picture, Ghost Ship.
while she performed for her fellow passengers.
In Gibraltar, 12-year-old Catherine Harwood boarded the Grazza.
She was the daughter of medium mogul Sir Kenneth Harwood on her way to join her parents in New York.
And aboard the ship, there was the wonderful music of Francesca.
But the age of ocean liners was drawing to an end.
The Italian line...
And its competitors just didn't realize it yet.
On May 19th, the Lloyd Lunner SS Lorelei set out on a distress call.
It was 8.17 in the morning.
The Grazza had vanished at sea.
For the second time in under 10 years, Geno was rocked by the tragedy.
Pope John XXIII led a mass at the Vatican, expressed his condolences to the families of the missing passengers.
World leaders followed.
There's been speculation about what happened.
Was it a rogue wave?
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.
Which meant the Great Eastern could travel from England to India and back again without refueling.
She was the only vessel ever to be propelled simultaneously by screw propeller and paddle wheels and a full rig of sail.
And from her debut as the monster queen of the seas until her voyage to the scrap heap in 1888, the Great Eastern had a stone cold reputation as a jinx.
For a while it seemed she'd never be launched.
November 3, 1857 was the day originally scheduled for her sideways slip into the Thames River, but a few feet was as far as she got.
Ten times over the next three months her owners tried to extricate her from her muddy snare cost him a hundred twenty thousand pounds Finally and only after bankrupting her owners the great eastern launched herself Just slid out into the river unassisted the last day of January 1858 With around that time folks began whispering about the ship with a mind of its own
Great eastern state at anchor in the Thames for almost two years thereafter before being purchased for only a quarter the original building cost then September 1859 a trial run During which an engine room explosion killed six firemen and her commander drowned She spent that winter docked at Southampton with her new owners calling it bad luck and others calling her a bad luck shit and the misfortunes didn't stop
When her maiden voyage, her screw shaft bearing was run out and both paddle wheels were smashed and her rudder head snapped.
And during subsequent voyages, there were serious damages and staggering debts.
Attempting to get out of the red, her owners organized a lottery, but even that failed for lack of public interest.
So for the next 11 years, the Great Eastern remained in port.
The beginning of the end came in 1888.
And because of the strength of her hull, it took three years to dismantle her.
Historian John Guthrie, reviewing the calamitous career of the Great Eastern, observed, quote, during her lifetime, this vessel ran through fortune after fortune, destroyed her designers, builders, and all her successive owners with grim impartiality.
Yet she spent most of her life at anchor.
And all the while, seasoned sea men searched their minds for a clue to the jinx.
Of course, there is no such thing.
There is no such thing.
Even still in the final months of the Great Eastern's disassembly, the workers, they were pulling apart the layers of the monster ship's double hull when they discovered her first passenger.
Been there trapped inside from the time she was built.
A human skeleton.
And as I say, there's no such thing as a jinx.
Only now.
You know the rest of the story.
She's sailor
His ship and his crew were the cost He picked up the dice
Low me down and picked me up She swapped me for a trout Got a whale of a tail Looked at your lines A whale of a tail or two Got the flappin' fish And the girls I've loved My nights like this with a moon above A whale of a tail And it's all true I swear by my tattoo There was Typhoon Tessie Met her on the coast of Java When we kissed I bubbled up like molten lava Then she gave me the
scare of my
young life
There was Harpoon Hannah Had a face that made you shudder Pips like fish hooks And a nose just like a rudder If
I kissed her
No sea monster big enough to ever frighten me.
Got a whale of a tail to tell you land.
A whale of a tail or two.
Bought the flatland fish and the girls I've loved on nights like this with a moon above.
A whale of a tail and it's all true.
I swear by my
tattoo.
It's funny now and then 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
be the same until I discover what became of my...
of human heads.
But it's funny now and then how my thoughts go flashing back again 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 this...
of my old flame.
I can't even think of her name.
What was her name?
Doris,
Laura, Chloe, Manny, Mo, Jack.
No, it
couldn't have been Mo.
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...
What was
it?
Some guy screaming like a child's
voice.
What did you see, Clarice?
What did you see?
Lambs.
I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming.
My own never bothered me except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated.
But you may lack perspective.
In our discussions down in the dungeon, it was apparent to me that your father, the dead Night Watchman, figures largely in your value system.
I think your success in putting an end to James Gump's career is a couturier.
Pleased you most because you could imagine your father being pleased.
But now, alas, you're in bad odor with the FBI.
Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace?
Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure, the sorry petty end of a promising career?
What is worse about this humiliation, Clarice?
Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy?
Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe they were indeed just good old trailer camp, tornado bait, white trash, and that perhaps you are too?
By the way, I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website that I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal and elevated to the more prestigious ten most wanted list.
Does this coincidence or are you back on the case?
If so,
because I need to come out of retirement and return to public life.
Clearly, this new assignment is not your choice.
Rather, I suppose it is part of the bargain, but you accepted the clarris.
Your job is to craft my doom, so I'm not sure how well I should wish you, but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun.
Tatar.
No
Be my all, hurry, hurry darling love.
love me come be my all hurry hurry darling love me soon the night will fall be mine dear and you will discover that night is for
Civic media radio
network Listen to me said the demon as he placed his hand upon my head the region of which I speak is a dreary region in Libya by the borders of the River Zairey and there is no quiet there nor silence The waters of the river have a saffron and sickly hue and they flow not onward to the sea but palpitates forever and
forever beneath the red eye of the sun with a tumultuous and convulsive motion.
For many miles on either side of the river's oozy bed is a pale desert of gigantic water lilies.
They sigh one onto the other in that solitude and stretch towards the heaven their long and ghastly necks and nod to and fro their everlasting heads.
And there is an indistinct murmur which cometh out from among
like the rushing of subterranean water, and they sigh one onto the other.
But there is a boundary to their realm, the boundary of the dark, horrible, lofty forest.
There, like the waves about the Hebrides, the low underwood is agitated continually, but there is no wind throughout the heavens.
And the tall, primeval trees rock eternally, hithering that there were the crashing and mighty sound.
And from their high summits, one by one, drop everlasting dews.
And at the roots, strange poisonous flowers lie writhing in perturbed slumber.
And overhead with a rustling and loud noise, the grey clouds rush westwardly forever, until they roll a cataract over the fiery wall of the horizon.
But there is no wind throughout the heaven.
And by the shores of the river Zairey, there is neither quiet nor silence.
It was night and the rain fell.
And falling, it was rain, but having fallen, it was blood.
And I stood in the morass among the tall lilies, and the rain fell upon my head.
And the lilies sighed one after the other, in the solemnity of their dissolution.
And all at once, the moon
arose, through the ding and ghastly mist, and was crimson in colour.
And my eyes fell upon a huge grey rock which stood by the shore of the river, and was lighted by the light of the moon.
And the rock was grey, and ghastly, and tall, and the rock was grey.
Upon its front were characters engraven in the stone, and I walked through the morass of the water lilies until I came close unto the shore that I might read the characters upon
stone but I could not decipher them and I was going back into the morass when the moon shone with a fuller red and I turned and looked again upon the rock and upon the characters and the characters were desolation
This is K-Star
Now get around while I lucidate And what goes on when it gets late Along with our midnight, the ghosts and banshees Get together for a jamboree There's ghosts with horns and salsa eyes Some have fangs about their size Some short and fat
I'm tall and thin, and some don't even bother to wear their
skins.
I'm a-telling you, brother, it's a fearful sight, just to see what goes on in the
night.
When the Spooks have a midnight jamboree, they break it up with a fiendish cleat.
Ghosts are bad, but the one that's cursed is the headless horseman.
He's the worst.
When he goes jogging across the land.
In his noggin'
rod in
his hand Demons take one look and groan
Then they hit the rope
of parts unknown Well there's no raid like a spoof that's burned The
ghost don't like
With a hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip hip
But take a look at the people who ignore the old good book.
Change your ways, you'll find a pace.
Cause you can't be a haint if you ain't kinda crazed, I guess you'd say.
Take our word, we know what we're talking about.
You know, this is a pretty spooky thing we're doing here.
You don't mind if I turn on another light, do
ya?
Just gather around and I'll elucidate what goes on outside when it gets late.
Long about midnight, the ghosts and banshees, they get together for their nightly jamborees.
There's things with horns and saucer eyes.
Some with fangs about this size.
Some are fat and some are thin.
And some don't even wear their skin.
Oh, I'm telling you, brother, it's a frightful sight to see what goes on Halloween nights.
When spooks of heaven in a jamboree, they break it up with this glitz.
Ghosts about, but the one that's cursed is the headless horseman.
He's the worst.
That's why he's a pirate on Halloween night.
But when he goes jogging across the land, holding it, knocking in his hand.
Demons take one, looking grown, and the headless rode from far to low.
Beware!
They care he rides
along.
But there's no spook like Spook at Spur.
They don't
like him,
and he's really burnt.
He swears to the longest day he's dead.
He'll show them that he can get ahead.
They say he's tired of his flaming top.
He's got a yen to make the swap.
So he rides one night each year to find a hen in the hollow here.
In the middle or awake, black or white or even red.
The headless horseman needs a head with a head hip and a clip when he climbs.
He's out looking for a cocky child, so don't stop to figure out a plan.
You can't reason with a headless man.
Now if you doubt this tailor's soul, I bet that spook was just a year ago.
Now I didn't stop for a second look.
The name for the bridge that spans the brook.
But once you cross that bridge, my friend,
the love stands through his power and
soul.
When you're riding home tonight, make
for the bridge
with all your might.
He'll be down in the hollow there.
He eats your head.
Look out!
He wears a hip hip and a clippity cock.
He's out.
Hit the spot, so don't try to beg a r-
That's Al Killian.
The Talking Horns, you see.
Live from the Civic Media Radio Network, I'm Lou Vergani.
You're the best audience anywhere because you get it.
Happy Halloween, everybody.
The moon is rising, there's a chill in every breeze And the ghosts are out in Wisconsin drifting through the autumn trees There's a pumpkin on the doorstep, there's a candle burning bright And the children all are waiting for that magic
Nosher shadows lengthen and the lake winds start to mow.
There's a skeleton out dancing by a creaky old tombstone.
There's a black cat on the fence rail and a scarecrow in the lane while the goblin shout for candy.
River softly sighs While the bats above the rooftops Make their shadows cross the sky There's a werewolf near the wood pile There's a ghost beside the door And a monster in the attic Who keeps asking Trick or treat some more Out in Richland center Where the wooded hills grow dark Here and I'll begin its calling See a lantern throw a spark Through the fields and down the highways past the
the skies of blue
The years have come and wandered and the children all have grown But October brings a memory that will always be our own There's a sweetness in the darkness, there's a laughter in the air And the spirit of Wisconsin puts a little magic everywhere Oh Halloween in Wisconsin, let the jack-o'-lanterns light Let the ghosts come out at midnight, let the stars above be bright From Kenosha to the U-
Children shop together
today you're sure of a big surprise if you go down in the woods today you'd better go in disguise
for every bear that ever there
was will gather there for certain because today's the day that teddy bears have their
But he 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.
Watch them catch them on the wares and see them picnic.
They love to play and shout, they never have any cares.
At six o'clock their mommies and daddies will take them home to bed, cause they're tired little teddy
bears.
Henry Hall!
Remember,
Justice Pirate!
So wake
The stars have lost their glow.
Still the mighty organ thunders, where the ancient shadows go.
This is slow tonight, isn't it?
Yes, it is, Mr. Tonus.
What night strikes upon the tower?
I'm awfully glad you asked me that, Lloyd.
Because I just happened to have 220s and 210s right here in my wallet.
I was afraid they were going to be there until next April.
So here's what.
You slipped me a bottle of bourbon, a little glass, and some ice.
You can do that, can't you, Lloyd?
You're not too busy, are you?
No, sir.
You're not busy at all.
Good man.
You set him up and I'll knock him back, Lloyd.
Number one.
White man's burden, Lloyd.
The 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 Halloween.
Did you ever break a mirror and spend the rest of the day in dread?
Wondering
what
off
Cinderella and Nutella have the boiler lights down low, listening to the radio.
Love is on the air tonight, and it's on a coast to coast hookup.
Love is everywhere tonight.
You better look, you're gonna see us no guns.
Each station throughout the nation will have a song coming through.
So if your sick words, the major networks, will do your woe for you.
You should never sing for her if the song is not of your alley.
You might sound like being to her.
What suppose she likes Rudy Valley?
If so, cruder, come on out, tune up, and tell her better than you.
Why should you care, long as love is on the edge tonight?
The waves are more bold on Lake
Michigan shore.
And summer soft footsteps aren't here anymore.
Down in racing, those waves roll high.
Beneath an early November dark sky.
And Kenosha's harbor has turned to dark gray.
the winds of October come whisper in through bringing memories of summer and dreams that we knew from Green Bay to Madison from La Crosse to the shore the winds of October
In richland and rapids, the rivers run cold past autumn, forests of crimson and gold in Eau Claire.
The evenings come early and the stars shine as bright on the hills around Hurley.
Appleton streets wear a blanket of leaves, while Warsaw's green hills lose their summertime sleeves.
And way down in Jamesville, the night settles in with a cool
to the show
In Michigan the gulls disappear The sound of the surf says that winter is near From Door County shoreline to Superior's Blue The winds carry autumn wherever they move
In Oshkosh the sunset burns amber and red While autumn leaves dance where summer once spread And fondulak shivers beneath the moon's light Wisconsin's old towns glow
Through Kenosha's downtown Cold breezes blow Milwaukee's lights glisten in a soft autumn glow And somewhere a radio plays through the night A song from last summer And sounding so right Yes, the winds of October Come whispering through
taking the summer but leaving what's true from Madison Eastwood to Lake Michigan's shore the winds of October are calling once more
so
let
the leaves
Rising once more and singing a song That lonely old song of that old
Julie London next
I'm in the mood for this October I found an Indian summer man And that's why I'm in the mood for this October
to love him all I can.
What is more exciting than the crisp, brisk weather in the fall?
It's especially delighting when you got a guy so handsome and so tall.
And that's why I'm in the mood for this October.
I found an Indian summer man.
You can talk about Maytime and a spring romance.
But even the snowy white December doesn't have a chance.
In the mood for this October I planned of him all I can What is more exciting Than the crisp, brisk weather in the fall It's especially delighting When you got a guy so handsome
so tall, and that's why I'm in the mood for this October.
I found an Indian summer man.
You can talk about Maytime and a spring romance, but even the snowy white December doesn't
October I caught him in the auto
The waves
are more bold on Lake Michigan shore
And summer soft footsteps aren't here
anymore Down in racing those waves roll high Beneath an early November dark sky The Kenosha's harbor has turned to dark grass
as autumn quietly carries the summer
away.
Oh, the winds of October come whispering through, bringing memories of summer and dreams that we knew from Green Bay.
from lacrosse to the shore the winds of october are calling once more richland and rapids the rivers run cold past autumn forests of crimson and gold no clear the evenings come early and the stars shine as bright on the hill
All
the winds of October come whispering
memories of summer and dreams that we knew.
From Green Bay to Madison, from the cross to the shore.
The winds of October are calling on small.
Along Lake Michigan, the gulls disappear.
The sound of the surf says that winter is near
From Door County shoreline to Superior's Blue
The winds carry autumn wherever they
move In Oshkosh the sunset burns amber and red While autumn leaves dance where summer once spread And fondle like shivers beneath the moon's light Wisconsin's old towns glow
Through Kenosha's downtown, the cold breezes blow.
Milwaukee's lights glisten in a soft autumn glow.
And somewhere radio plays through the night.
A song from last summer and sounding so right.
Yes, the winds of October.
Taking the summer But leaving what's true From Madison Eastwood To Lake Michigan's shore The winds of October Are calling one small So let the leaves wander
For summer has left us
But stays in the heart
The winds of October are rising once more And singing a song
The winds of October are singing tonight.
The streets of the cities in the fast fading light.
The waves are more bold on Lake Michigan shore.
And summer soft footsteps aren't here anymore.
Down in racing, those waves roll high.
Beneath an early November dark sky.
And Kenosha's harbor has turned to dark gray.
As autumn quietly carries.
Oh
the
winds of October come whispering through bringing memories of summer and dreams that we knew from Green Bay to Madison from lacrosse to the shore
Love
me.
The winds of October are singing tonight Through streets of the cities and the fast-fading light
The waves are more bold on Lake Michigan shore
And summer soft footsteps aren't here anymore
Down in racing, those waves roll high Beneath an early November dark sky And the Kenosha's harbor has turned to dark gray
as autumn quietly carries the summer
away.
Oh, the winds of October come whispering through bringing memories of summer and dreams that we knew from Green Bay
from lacrosse to the shore the winds of october are calling once more
Myself getting awful mad.
Here is all the passion and suspense.
The heart pounding warmth of the best selling novel that gripped millions.
Wake up!
Come on!
Superb unforgettable performances by an extraordinary array of talent.
Figured
I was gone, huh?
Run.
Hide in the staircase.
Run, quick!
Damn kids.
I'm giving you to the count of three to get out of here.
Then I'm coming across the kitchen shooting.
The combined powers of Paul Gregory and Charles Lawton brought the Cain, Newsy-Court Marshall to Broadway.
Now the screen receives that same creative electrifying impact.
The Night of the Hunter.
And from the shining.
I love to you Midnight brought us sweet romance
Hello Fitzgerald.
1957.
Yo!
It was the very witching hour of night that Ichabod pursued his travel homeward.
The sky grew darker and darker as one by one the stars winked out their lights, and driving clouds obscured the moon from sight.
Never had the schoolmaster felt so melancholy, so utterly alone.
And the nearer he approached the hollow, the more dismal he became.
Once inside the murky glen, Ichabod's anxiety increased to an hundredfold.
For now the forest seemed to close in behind him.
Every small detail of Brahms' awful story returned to haunt his recollection.
It must have happened to you at some time in your life.
You meet a completely strange set of people.
They come into your life just as suddenly as they leave.
And they leave you to wonder for the rest of your days.
Was it real?
Did you dream them all up?
And why were you chosen of all people to encounter them?
Here.
Have a glass of port while I tell you the strange story of Henry Harper, a traveling salesman.
It was in Shanghai, I think, shortly after the Second World War that Henry Harper had his curious experience.
Now, Henry Harper was a rug salesman, which has very little to do with the story, except perhaps to explain that he was a man who was used to hotels, sleeping away from home and constantly traveling in strange cities far from his native London.
So it was that Henry Harper found himself
in an obscure Shanghai hotel, a guest for one night.
In the morning he had an important appointment with one of the wealthiest dealers in the city.
Henry Harper was tired.
The noisy, jostling Shanghai streets, a veritable melting part of races, creeds and colors have given him a headache.
His eyeballs were scorched from the afternoon sun.
So it was that when night came, Henry Harper was more than ready for bed.
He'd unpacked all his luggage, attired himself in pajamas, and read himself to sleep, as has been his custom for many years.
But he had fallen asleep with the lights on.
It was perhaps an hour or two later that Henry Harper stirred restlessly in his bed.
His eyes were still closed, but the curious scratching noise came to his ears.
Now, Shanghai's street noises had abated somewhat.
Now, the scratching sound filled the tiny hotel room.
Henry Harper sat erect peevishly and opened his eyes to see what the disturbance was.
Well, he was hardly prepared for the sight that greeted him.
Seated at the dresser in the room, just at the foot of his bed, her back to him, was a lovely Eurasian woman.
busily combing her hair as nice as you please.
The woman's hair was fantastically long, its black length trailing down her shoulders to the floor.
Henry Harper could only gape as the comb in the lady's hand ran briskly through the beautiful hair with easy feminine strokes.
It was the noise of the comb drawing through the hair that had awakened Henry Harper.
Before he could open his mouth to speak to the lady, she encountered some difficulty.
The comb became snarled in a clump of her hair without a moment's hesitation.
The lady lifted her head off her shoulders and disentangled the comb from her hair.
Henry Harbour had seen enough with terror chilling his brain.
He sprang out of bed and flung into the room next to his like a wild mare.
Four bland Chinese receded round a deal table having the quiet game of cards.
Henry screamed to them about the woman in his room who had removed her head before his very eyes.
The four Chinese smiled up at Henry Harper.
Oh, that they said in chorus.
That's nothing.
We can all do that.
Whereupon they all in turn lifted their heads off their shoulders.
So you see, Henry Harper had quite an experience.
Of course, no one at the Sanitarium believes this, but there you are.
I suppose people always expect traveling salesmen to have a lot of funny stories to tell.
Oh, by the way, help yourself to a cigar while I step through the wall here and go down to the cellar for another bottle of port.
I do hate to take the long way.
Perfectly sure, my dear.
Perfectly sure.
While like a ghastly rapid river, through the pale door, a hideous throng rush out forever and laugh, but smile no more.
Music of the Stars will return.
Right after news next, the really scary stuff is about to be broadcast.
It's called news.
N-O-O-Z.
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 morning, so to speak.
Halloween.
Where you can be anything you want to be.
Music at the start.
So high noon that is.
Your mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses.
Now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.
I knew that sound well, too.
It was the beating of the old man's heart.
It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still.
I scarcely breathed.
I held the lantern motionless.
I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye.
Meantime, the hellish tattoo of the heart increased.
It grew quicker and quicker and louder and louder of the instant.
The old man's terror must have been extreme.
He grew louder.
I say louder every moment.
Do you mark me well?
I told you that I'm nervous.
So I am.
And now at the...
Dead hour of the night amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.
Yet for some minutes longer, I refrained and stood still.
But the beating grew louder, louder.
I thought the heart must burst.
Now a new anxiety sees me.
The sound would be heard by a neighbor.
The old man's hour had come.
With a loud yell, I threw up in the lantern and leaped into the room.
He shrieked once, only once.
In an instant, I dragged him to the floor and pulled the heavy bed over him.
I then smiled, gaily, to find the deed so far done.
But for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound.
This, however, did not fix me.
It would not be heard through the wall.
At length... It ceased.
that we part, John.
You have another wife, and I have another husband, and he has another wife, and she has another husband.
It isn't the simplest sort of arrangement.
It isn't.
No, after all our years of wedded bliss, it's off be to St.
John.
We must think of the child.
We do have a child.
And he has a child.
And the child has another wife.
And she has another husband.
And he has a child.
And that child, John, is our child.
I must go away somewhere and figure this thing out.
I'll be the same, John.
I'll be the same.
that he has another wife and that she has another husband and that our own child through marriage is now my uncle and your sister's father on your grandmother's side but can't we talk this over there's still time our divorce doesn't become final for another five
He calls it faith, strength, truth.
But in just a moment, Peter Valmer will apply his...
The zombies all wore ponytails.
You should have heard those werewolves well.
Every girl was out of this world at the monster movie ball.
Well, I saw the creature from the black lagoon.
The Phantom of the Opera was swinging a tune.
The Vampire of Winter Evil.
I asked Frankenstein, came dancing by, Dracula did.
And the cha-cha-cha at the monster movie ball.
Dr. Jack was there with his blue suede shoes.
Quasimodo was singing the blues.
The shrinking man had his short shorts on.
Jebus, creepers, where'd you get those creepers?
Jebus, creepers, where'd you get those eyes?
Oh gosh, I'll get them.
I'd get so little.
Gosh, I'll get them.
I'd get that size.
Oh god, they're G. When you turn the heaters on, what is me?
Oh, my Jesus, son.
Achievers, creepers.
When you get those creepers.
Oh, those weepers.
Hard to get, but die.
Oh, when you get those eyes.
Oh, cheepers, cheepers, cheepers, cheepers, creepers.
When you get those people's balls.
Cheepers, creepers.
When you get those eyes.
Guys, all get up.
I think it's so nice.
I should get them boys.
I'd get that size.
Colleges.
When you turn those heaters on, war with me.
That would put my cheaters on.
Cheeper, cheeper, cheeper, cheeper, cheepers.
Creepers.
Where'd you get those people boys?
All those sweepers.
How'd they hypnotize you?
Where'd you get those eyes?
What is
it, Jeans?
The invisible man is here, sir.
Well, tell him
I
can't see him.
Very good, sir.
But there's also a lady that wishes to speak with you.
Show her in.
Dracula, my love.
Vampire, it's so good to see you.
back in circulation again.
Tell me, my dear.
Are the bats out tonight?
Let's forget them while they have a bath.
There's a chill in every breeze And the ghosts are out in Wisconsin Drifting through the autumn trees There's a pumpkin on the doorstep
Skeleton out dancing by a creaky old tombstone.
There's a black cat on the fence
rail and a scarecrow.
Who keeps asking?
Trick or treat some more.
Out in Richland Center, where the wooded hills grow dark.
Here and
I'll begin its calling.
See a lantern throw a spark.
Guys of
blue remember dressed as pirates which is cowboys kings and queens when the neighbors
gave us apples and
the porches glowed with
seams when the
chilly wind
of
October made us hurry through the night and we hurried home with candy to the warm and golden light
now the years have come and wandered and the children all have grown
That will always be our own
There's a sweetness in the darkness There's a laughter in the air And the spirit of Wisconsin puts a lid
Remind me never to stop being at this avoid plasma again.
I must have gotten hold of some tired blood.
We stand hand in glove.
Clammy, clammy, clammy my love.
I'm inhuman too.
Just like you.
I fell.
Burnish tomb and images
of clammy, clammy, clammy's
inn.
Oh, Jack, I haven't felt like this since I was 21, 100 years
old.
The stars have lost their glow.
Still the mighty organ thunders.
I'm very cruel.
needs mending.
Let the ink...
I brought you some coffee.
You must be tired after working all night.
Yes, a little.
But I'm happy to say that this finishes off the experiment on the new electronic explosives.
You know, the whole thing is successful beyond my wildest dream.
Good.
Sit down and pour me some coffee, dear.
Will you while I wash up these test tubes and bakers?
I have the no smoking signs all over the lab.
Is it dangerous to smoke
in here?
No.
It's just that the law requires no smoking signs in a lab like this.
For an actual fact, you know, you couldn't possibly set off these explosives with a blow torch.
It's all done with electronic detonators.
Well, there's absolutely no...
Here's to your success,
dear.
Thanks.
It's wonderful coffee.
It's hot and black.
I feel refreshed already.
How about a cigarette, my sweet?
You sure it's safe in
here?
I told you, you can't set off that stuff.
Light there.
As I see my love He'll take me in his arms
And so goes another Music of the Stars.
Thank you for being here.
Let's take a walk in the country on a beautiful end of October day.
And talk about what's on next week's program.
Next week, November the 1st.
And we're on from 7 a.m.
until high noon central.
Civic Media Radio Network.
You want to hear these shows again and again.
If that's your choice.
civicmedia.us.
Look for shows.
There we are.
But it's nice just to stroll along under this late October sunlight in the country.
away from all the strife of the world.
Where
there's nothing to worry about.
Doing this and you, you're the best audience anywhere.
Because you get it.
Next week, November, ouch, good or bad, we're gonna be here.
You, keep your dreams alive, reach for the stars, and goodnight.
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