V.
When
the applause abated the announcer walked back on the stage. The three actors
sat back down in their chairs, each substituting one script for another.
The
announcer said in his normal voice, “We’re glad you enjoyed our production of “Three Skeleton Key,”
ladies and gentlemen. And now, we’re going to perform “The Thing on the Fourble
Board,” from Quiet Please.”
A
couple of black-clad supernumeraries walked on to the stage, carrying a door in a
doorframe, and placed it at an angle to one side of the stage, against the scrim. A black clad
woman disappeared behind the doorframe and through the scrim, carrying a handheld microphone.
Another
man, an actor, walked in and stood next to the fourth microphone.
The
announcer raised a hand and then said somberly, “Quiet, please.” He paused for several seconds, then
said again, “Quiet, please.”
The audience in the ballroom, which had shown some signs of murmuring and rustling of program pages, quieted immediately.
The theme
music started – haunting music, soft, quiet…unsettling.
The
announcer walked off stage noiselessly.
Nick stood up, holding the script, and gazed at the fourth man. This time he used his normal voice, but a little rough
sounding, a little uneducated.
“Me,
I'm a roughneck. Well, I was a
roughneck, I mean, twenty years ago -- a little too old, too slow now. Besides,
I got a dollar now, I don't have to be a roughneck, y'see. Married, got a nice home. Hafta meet my
wife.”
Nick
turned his head toward the door and called out, “Hey, Mike!” There was no
response, and he turned back to the fourth man.
“Her name's Maxine but she likes to be called Mike.” He turned his head
back to the door and called out “Mike!” again. No response, so he turned back
to the fourth man.
“I
guess she's busy out in the kitchen someplace. Besides, she doesn't hear very
well. Shame, too -- she's so pretty and everything. Well, you'll meet her... Sit down... "
The fourth actor sat down in the empty chair.
Nick continued.
"I was
sayin' I was a roughneck... Well, no,
that doesn't mean exactly what you think it means. A roughneck is an oil field
worker, specifically, a guy on a drilling crew. Call 'em roughnecks like ya
call a section hand on the railroad a gandy dancer or a garage hand a grease
monkey.
Same
time, you work around a drilling crew for a while, you're gonna be a roughneck
in every sense of the word, boy. The
derrick floor or a fourble board's no place for a guy with a bow tie
'cause when you have to fool around with
drillin' holes that go farther down in the
ground than it is from the top of Pike's Peak down to sea level... Yeah,
sure they do. Time I was a roughneck, we got this one well down to
seventy-three hundred and thirteen feet.
That was a record. But last May, Pure Oil brought one in out in the Natrona
Valley in Wyoming at fourteen thousand three hundred and nine feet. That,
friend, is almost three miles. Quite a hole that, huh?”
Nick
paused for a second. He had addressed himself to the now seated fourth man, but now he turned and seemed to be talking directly to the audience.
“Sure,
I don't think there's an oil man in the world that don't wonder one time or
another what's down there besides rock and oil and gas. Oil that's made out of
trees that died twenty million years ago. Oil that's made out of dinosaur
bones. Oil that's maybe... made out of the flesh and blood of men, maybe, that
beat each other to death with a stone axe, ate saber tooth tiger for lunch.
Yeah, you get to wondering. You look at the cores that come up from way down
there and sometimes there's little shells, trilobites mostly, that was alive when
Manhattan Island, where New York is, was
under half a mile o' ice. We found somethin' once, me and Billy Gruenwald.
And...something found us. I'll tell ya about it.”
Nick
had the majority of the dialog in the scenes, each of the other three actors,
although amateurs, nevertheless were doing a fine job, Tracy thought, watching
and listening to them critically. After each of the actors had said his last piece of dialog he walked quietly off stage, until finally only Nick and the fourth man were left.
Then
came the climax.
“And
there it was... “ said Nick, as he told how he came to find the thing on the
fourble board. An unearthly sound came from behind the door, an alien,
cat-like, crying noise.
“And
I wish I-- I wish...” continued Nick. “The face of a little girl, frightened.
Crying with hunger and terror. Hands like a human being. And a finger...
missing from the left hand. [The
roughnecks had found a stone finger on the fourble board earlier in the
episode.]
And
a body... Well, I'll tell you about that. I told you how I'm scared of spiders.
But I knew where it came from. It'd come
from the bowels of the earth, come riding up on the drill pipe as we yanked it
out of the well. Come to an alien world. And was lost. It stood there dripping with red paint, blood-red from
head to foot, like some horrible dream. And it put its hand on my arm. Its hand
was stone. Living, moving stone. And it looked into my eyes. And mewed like a
lost kitten.
Twenty
years ago. I discovered many things about it: what it used for food; that it
was deaf; that it was invisible and couldn't see people when it was invisible;
that if you sprayed it with mud or paint or greasepaint -- make-up -- then it
could see people. And, believe me, I didn't want to see its body -- I can see
that in my nightmares. But its face... I can't help wanting to see that
pathetic, little girl face. I'm afraid maybe I've fallen-- Ah, but it's very
beautiful. And when it's well made-up, it's... But making it up, rubbing
greasepaint on a stone face that looks at ya and smiles and it makes sounds
like a lost kitten yet. I can disguise the body in long dresses. She can't hear
very well and when she's hungry, I have to stay out of her way. I found out
what she likes to eat, remember?”
Nick
thrust out a hand at the fourth man who's face had turned to a mask of terror and who had started to get up. “No, no, sit still,” he said firmly. Then “Sit still, do.”
And then, very harshly, “Sit still or I'll have to shoot you.” He paused for a
long time, and not a sound came from the audience.
“I
want you to meet my wife. Or rather... my wife wants to meet you.” He raised his voice then. “Mike?
Mike?”
The
door opened, outward.
Nick
gazed into the opening, lovingly.
“There
she is.”
The
catlike crying noise, and somehow now it sounded hungry as well as helpless,
rose.
“Come
in, dear,” Nick said.
And
the lights went out as the theme music rose again.
The
lights came on again and the entire audience rose to its feet as they applauded. The three actors who had walked off walked back on along with the announcer, to join Nick and the unfortunate fourth man.
The woman behind the door, who had provided the
unearthly mewling, came out and joined the others. Smiling, the actors gripped
hands again and soaked in the applause. Then they bowed and filed off the
stage until only the announcer was left.
“Thanks
very much, everyone,” he said. “We’re glad you liked our re-enactments. And
we’d like to thank our special guest-star, Nick Belfour – star of The Coldest Equations.”
More
applause.
“We’ve
set up a table for Mr. Belfour in the Foxfire Room, and he’ll be signing
autographs for a couple of hours. And don’t forget to visit our dealer’s
tables. There’s also still a couple of panels going – Music’s influence on the
atmosphere of radio, and women’s adventure radio programs.”
Tracy
sat quietly while the rest of the audience stood up, milled around, and finally
emptied out of the room. She listened to the various scraps of conversation as
people filed past her. It seemed that everyone had enjoyed the shows, and Nick
certainly had impressed.
Well,
she had been impressed, too, in particular with Nick. In his role as Mr. White
he was never given the opportunity to show any fear…his character was one of
strength and power, leavened by a bit of a sense of humor, and she’d never
heard his voice the way she’d heard it in these two performances, the echoes of
terror and panic, just below the surface, but controlled as if by a great
effort of will. She’d been impressed with his vocal dexterity. His facial expressions had been pretty
convincing, too. You couldn’t sound like you were afraid without twisting your
face up to show fear as well. Indeed, your whole body had to embrace the fear –
and the actors had certainly done that.
She’d
enjoyed the performances very much.
She’d
even enjoyed the stories – as a matter of fact, she might even seek out the
Vincent Price versions of “Three Skeleton Key”…hell, she would. They were bound to have them in the Dealer’s Room.
As
Tracy browsed through the Dealer’s Room again, she thought briefly of getting
in line to get an autograph from Nick, and once she’d reached his table, pulling
him up and kissing him thoroughly, but then thought against it. It would give
the fans a treat…well, it might give
them a treat, she amended…and if they were still “just friends” she might do
it. But now they were in a relationship, she didn’t want to give any other
women in the audience the idea that they could get a kiss for an autograph!
But
she toyed with the idea of asking him to call her Mike from now on…and perhaps she'd meow
a few times from now on while they were making love…
__________________
Author's note: Yes, I am a fan of old time radio, and Vincent Price's work in the medium, especially "Three Skeleton Key." I also love Quiet Please which starred Ernest Chappell who played a different lead character each week, and had a voice almost as great as Price's.
Take a look at these great sites:
Until 2011 there was an annual Old Time Radio Convention, and actors from many of the old programs would appear and do re-enactments and talk to fans. Unfortunately time marches on and those actors are no longer with us, but their work lives on in cassettes and CDs and I urge all my readers to check out this great material.
No comments:
Post a Comment