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Tag Archives: The Shadow

Hollywood Russell and The Case of Dead Air in Studio Two

25 Sep

September 25, 2015

We’ve got something a little different for you tonight. Please read the addendum at the bottom, and enjoy!

HR Dead Air

The radio studio was pitch black. The only window didn’t look out on the New York skyline but instead gave a view to a very small and cramped control room. The gauges and dials, which usually gave off a small electric glow even when the studio wasn’t in use, were invisible. The room was soundproof but the quiet was broken by the very slight creaking of a door hinge. Normally, leading to a broadcast studio, the doors would be oiled regularly to keep any stray sounds from going out over the air in a live broadcast. A hand groped through the doorway and found the light switch, which the hand flipped on with an almost, but not quite audible click. The station manager, Jim, walked in and stood just inside the entrance. “This is it,” he said. “Was it, I mean.”

Behind him walked a man in a trench coat and fedora. A private detective, he looked very much like a fictional shamus whose adventures had been broadcast from that studio for almost two decades.  “This isn’t how I imagined it.” Hollywood Russell took off his hat and laid it on a small wooden chair near the door.

“It’s not how anyone imagines it. You’re not supposed to imagine it. This isn’t a broadcast studio, it’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Jim looked around. “It was my home for a long time.”

Hollywood stood among the double rows of folding chairs where an occasional audience sat. WJP wasn’t a large station and never hosted the game shows or big network programs that audiences flocked to. He paced the length of the small studio, mentally estimating the length and width, and stopped in front of the cluster of microphones, set upon a small stage, where the actors had yesterday performed their last show. It was an afternoon soap opera fittingly called “One Man’s Passion.”

The station manager let out a small sigh. “People want television. It isn’t enough to hear words from a box, they need to see things too. Whatever happened to imagination? All we’re raising is a generation of children who will have their eyes plastered to the images on the screens in front of them.” Then, more darkly, “I’ve heard that some families even have two.”

Hollywood, who didn’t own a television himself, merely grunted and sat down in the chair directly in front of the main microphone. It stood about 5 feet high, with a brass plaque that read “WJP” in art deco style. He shut his eyes and saw a somber man announcing that war had broken out in Europe. He saw a trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B. He saw a man of mystery in a beautiful black car. He saw another man, in shirtsleeves, feverishly working his Rube Goldberg-like instruments and franticly switching from one odd looking device to the next, all the while creating the sounds of a rocket ship about to take off as the countdown commenced from X minus three, two..

“I’m really glad you came, Russell. I’m not sure I’d be able to do this myself.”

Hollywood roused himself and looked around once again. For a second he was sure he was in a peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again, but just for a second. He blinked and it was back to the solid concrete walls and softly carpeted stage, but he was sure he saw a single page of a script fluttering to the floor, just out of his line of sight, and when he turned he was just as sure he heard, however faintly, a mocking laugh out of the shadows.

The manager glanced around. “I hear it too. I hear all of it. Everything.” He sighed. “And now it’s gone.” Jim turned his back almost angrily on the empty studio and his eyes fell on the wall calendar. It had a picture of Louis Armstrong, telling the world that a certain brand of cigarettes soothed his throat. With a “hrmmpf” Jim pulled the hanging page off the calendar. It was September 7th.

“Lock up for me, will you Hollywood? This is all too much for me. Shut it all down and lock it up tight. Kill the power to the microphones. I’ll meet you downstairs in the bar. Don’t mind if I start without you.” Jim tossed the key on a chair and without a glance backward, left the studio. “I’m never coming back here again” he said to himself as he slowly walked down the hall.

A small smile played across Hollywood’s face. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that.”

He took one last, slow look around. He made sure the switches were off, that the microphones were closed and that everything was in order. Jim didn’t need a detective, he just needed someone to do what he couldn’t. And isn’t that all that a guy like Hollywood Russell really did?

Hollywood walked to the door, grabbed his hat, shut the light and walked out. A couple of seconds ticked by on the clock, and the door reopened. In the darkness, Hollywood found his way to a small desk off to the side of the microphones. On one side stood a very old cathedral-style receiver, a relic radio; on the other a small gooseneck lamp. He turned it on and aimed its beam right at the WJP plaque. Its reddish-yellow letters gleamed like the sun in the blackness.

Lights out, everybody.

But not for Relic Radio.

radio-studio-1930s_________________________

This written in response to the sad news that the Relic Radio forum was shutting down. While the main site, www.relicradio.com, will continue providing a great selection of old time radio shows (and you can find them on iTunes), the message boards are now gone. This story is a tribute to Jim, who runs the whole show, but also to the shows we loved. And as such, there are a few tributes to Old Time Radio in the story. I’ve listed many of them for you.

“New York skyline.” This might be the first Hollywood Russell story to explicitly state that it is set in New York. I did it intentionally in this tale because NYC was the home base of the Mutual Network, broadcasting out of WOR (which still exists) and was where Superman and The Shadow, among others, originated.

“Slight creaking of a door hinge.” Inner Sanctum famously began with the creaking of a door hinge.

“Fictional shamus wearing a trench coat and fedora.” Take your pick- Sam Spade, Phillip Marlowe, Richard Diamond, etc.

“It’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Fibber McGee and Molly, The Shadow, Superman.

“A trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B.” The Andrews Sisters and their most famous hit, “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B”

“A man of mystery in a beautiful black car.” The Green Hornet and his car, the Black Beauty.

“The countdown commenced from X minus three, two…” X Minus 1, famous adult sci-fi program.

“A peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“A mocking laugh out of the shadows.” The Shadow.

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“Lights out, everybody.” Horror program by Wyllis Cooper and Arch Obler.

There is also a very slight and subtle Star Wars reference that you will either spot or you won’t. You may not think a Star Wars reference fits but it does because A- there was a fantastic radio version of Star Wars broadcast over NPR stations in the 1970’s and B- searching for info about that show was how I found Relic Radio.

I put in one or two personal touches that I’ll keep to myself, but, the date on the calendar- September 7th– was the last day of the forums. The call letters of the station mean something too, but I’ll leave that little wink and nod to the fellow forum members. And Jim.

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This Is The Next Big Thing!

17 Feb

February 17, 2015

You know, breaking into Hollywood isn’t as easy as it looks. I had a great idea for a movie, the sci-fi family epic Hamsterus! Well that didn’t get me a deal with Spielberg. I have no idea why. What’s wrong with a touching film about the love between a young boy and his giant radioactive hamster? I don’t get it. So I set my sights a little lower and came up with the TV pitch President Hobo. Wouldn’t a show about a homeless President be a great fit with Scandal or Criminal Minds? For some reason no one else thought so. I even shopped around Murderchimp. I still don’t know what exactly I had planned for it, or even what a Murderchimp is, but even before I could set up a meeting my agent dumped me. But I went back to the drawing board. I don’t give up that easy, no matter how many people throw me out of their office.

I had another brilliant idea! Since movies and TV weren’t for me, I was going to single-handedly revive the art of Old Time Radio drama! Yes! I was going to bring about a new Golden Age of a medium that no one cares about anymore. I had it all planned out and I was going to start with a revival of The Shadow, my favorite show. In a nutshell, The Shadow is a bored rich guy who uses hypnosis to convince everyone he’s invisible. Perfect for radio- everyone’s invisible!

Problem is, those bastards at Conde Nast who own the rights served me with a cease and desist order. And after I had already written 275 scripts! Well, I’m nothing if not creative, so with a little smart editing I got rid of The Shadow and wrote in my totally new and completely unique character, El Kabong. I’m shopping it around now, but just to get some buzz going, here’s a sample.

THE SHADOW EL KABONG IN “THE PHANTOM GANGSTERS”

Mysterious music swells.

ANNOUNCER: The Shadow El Kabong, mysterious character who aids the forces of law and order, is in reality Lamont Cranston Louie Crandall, wealthy young man-about-town. Years ago in the Orient South, Lamont Louie learned the strange and hypnotic power that allowed him to cloud fog men’s minds so that they cannot see him. Lamont’s Louie’s companion, the lovely Margot Lane Margie Long, is the only one that knows to whom the voice of the invisible Shadow El Kabong belongs. Tonight’s drama: “The Phantom Gangsters.”

Isn’t that great? And totally original! Here’s an action scene:

EL KABONG: Heheheheheheheh! Give it up, Phantom Gangsters! You have heard my mysterious laugh! I have you surrounded.

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: Surrounded? You’re only one guy, how can you have us surrounded?

PHANTOM GANGSTER 2: Yeah, and we can’t even see you. What are you, chicken? Too afraid to come out and face us man to man?

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: That’s right, man to man to man! There’s two of us you know!

EL KABONG: I am not hiding. I am El Kabong!

PHANTOM GANGSTER 2: El Kabong!

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: Hey, I heard of this guy, he’s invisible or something.

EL KABONG: I may be invisible but I assure you my guitar is solid as a rock!

SOUND OF A GUITAR SMASHING A MAN IN THE HEAD

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: OW! HEY! Where’d that guitar come from?

ANOTHER SOUND OF A GUITAR SMASHING A MAN IN THE HEAD

PHANTOM GANGSTER 2: UGH! That hurt!

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: How many guitars do you have, anyway?

EL KABONG: El Kabong has many guitars. The guitars of justice!

MORE SOUNDS OF GUITARS SMASHING OVER HEADS

PHANTOM GANGSTERS 1 and 2: We give up! We give up!

EL KABONG: Margie, call commissioner Walcott. Tell him he can collect the Phantom Gangsters, courtesy of El Kabong. Heheheheheheheh!

MARGIE: Yes El Kabong!

EL KABONG: Heheheheheheheh!

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: Jeez, always with the laughing. What’s wrong with this guy?

YET ANOTHER GUITAR SMASH

PHANTOM GANGSTER 1: OK! OK! You don’t have to be so touchy!

There you go! Spread the word! I’ll get The Shadow El Kabong on the radio any day now, I can feel it!

Shadow Kabong

 

 

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