The makers of Weber's Bread present your all-star Western Theater, produced in Hollywood and transcribed for release at this more convenient time. Drifting along, singing a song under a western moon. From Hollywood comes your all-star Western Theater, starring America's great western singers, Poy Willing and the writers of the Purple Sage. Bringing you the music, the stories and the spirit of the great open spaces. And now, here are the writers of the Purple Sage. Riding down to Santa Fe, just beyond the mountains and across the way. See that sun hang low in the west, over the land I'm loving the best. Here we go, my old pen old, gotta see a preacher about a gal. So let's burn the trail and yonder we'll go. Riding down to Santa Fe, hey, riding down to Santa Fe. Riding down to Santa Fe, gonna see the boss and I'll collect my pay. Need a hundred dollars or more to get that ring she's been waiting for. Don't be slow, my old pen old, she'll be there waiting at the door. So let's burn the trail and yonder we'll go. Riding down to Santa Fe, hey, riding down to Santa Fe. Well friends, it's good to be back with you again. This is Poy Willing welcoming you to your all-star Western Theater, where we have the privilege of bringing you our western songs and stories. As you've already heard, we like to get things started here with a song that's kind of snappy. And then to follow it up, we like to sing something that you might hear around a western campfire, or maybe in a bunkhouse of an evening. Such a song is chained to a memory. Makes no difference if we two are far apart dear, I could never ever love somebody new, cause there isn't any room inside my heart dear. While I'm chained to a memory of you. I could never tell another I belong to them, all the whispered words of love would not be true. I could never tell another that I long for them, cause I'm chained to a memory of you. Maybe time will wear the links away and then dear, they will break and set me free to love anew. But I'll never care for someone else again dear, while I'm chained to a memory of you. If the world should end tomorrow, I'd be satisfied cause you're gone and there is nothing I can do. All my dreams and precious hopes of yesterday have died, yet I'm chained to a memory of you. You know folks, most people get pleasure out of money in the bank. Others enjoy having several cars in the garage or plenty of clothes in the closet. Gives them a wealthy feeling, like having good soft Weber's bread in the bread box. Now don't say that's hard to believe, it really isn't. Once you've tasted that rich fresh baked bread flavor of Weber's bread, just look at the golden goodness of Weber's crust. Taste the tender luxury of Weber's soft creamy texture. And see if you don't agree, Weber's bread brings a wealth of good eating to your table. Remember folks, we don't claim Weber's bread will ever replace a bank account. All we say is, to eat like a king, you don't need a bank account. To make any meal a royal occasion at your house, all you have to do is serve good fresh Weber's bread. Goes with anything, from caviar to beans. Buy a loaf soon, won't you? It's Weber's bread in the bright blue gingham wrapper. Every now and again the boys are sitting around in the evening without much to do. The boys who play instruments start noodling around. The first thing you know they're having a bunkhouse jam session. And in one of these sessions the boys hit on a version of an instrumental novelty called, slip disc. I'll play it for you now. Music Some songs seem to fall into a class all their own. No matter how many times we hear them, we still enjoy them. The writers of the Purple Sage sing a song of this kind for us now, among my souvenirs. Music Some letters tied with blue, a photograph or two. I see a rose from you among my souvenirs. A few more tokens rest within my treasure chest. And though they do their best to give me consolation, I count them all apart. And as the teardrop stars, I find a broken heart among my souvenirs. Time once again for Foy Willing and the writers of the Purple Sage to tell one of their adventures in the West. And this is the story they call, Painted on the Wall of a Cave. Most of us think of the West as a fairly new country, a territory of recent frontiers and settlements founded within the memory of living man. We forget that ours was not the first civilization to find a home on the open prairies and in the foothills and the mountains. Many of us seldom give a thought to the vanishing first Americans, the Indians. But Indians there were and long before our time too. And they developed an advanced culture which few of us know or have even heard of. Foy Willing, Al Sloy, Johnny Paul, and Scotty Harrell have as Westerners known the Indian stories and legends which are told around the open campfires at night. But they don't know that they are now riding in the rain through one of the canyons where a great and wonderful tribe once flourished. How wet are you, Foy? Soak to the skin, Al. Johnny, can't you hear the water sloshing around in my boots? I can't hear yours, but the noise of water in my boots is making. Scotty, if I ever get any wetter, it'll have to be in a lake, some dog-gone canyon. You said it, Foy. There isn't even an overhang we can get under for shelter. I've just figured out something. If we'd get steady work, we wouldn't be at the mercy of the elements like this. What? Are you crazy? Local, that's what he is. Steady work. Like what, Johnny? Taking tickets in the dance hall. I've always thought that'd be nice work. As soon as everybody's in, you go dance with all the prettiest girls. It hasn't cost you anything. Hey, what is it, Scotty? Up there ahead and to the right. Ain't that a cave? Why, bless old Harry if it ain't. Come on, boys, shelter. Oh, man, this is something like. Is there plenty of wood back there, Scotty? Yeah, but I don't understand how there's so much wood in a cave. Flood? What? The last time the river flooded, it left drip wood in here. Oh. I'm a regular library of such interesting facts. Now, you birds may not know it. Hey, boy, what are you doing over there? Why don't you come over here by the fire? Come here. Boy's been bad. What? He's just making a stand with his face to the wall. Come on, you guys, bring a light stick with you. Why? There's something on the wall here. All right, all right, grab a light stick, Scotty. Grab a light stick, Alan. Grab a light stick. Oh, I'm it. The last one over there is rotten egg. Now, what did you see, boy? Hold the stick up a little higher. Yeah. Doggone. Hey, a drawing. Or something. Indian paintings. They're not too clear, but that's what they are. Do they mean anything? Let's see if we can find out. Now, I think this is about the middle of the series or whatever it is. This looks like a guy chasing a buffalo. That's right, Johnny. And this one here looks like he's got it. Or it got him. So if these pictures tell a story, they start up toward the front. Now, let's... I'll hold the light stick up higher. Oh, my arm's getting tired. Then give it to me. Gladly. Now, yeah, here's the first drawing. What does it mean, boy? Well, this is the boy, I guess. And this is the girl. And it looks to me like she's watching him paint on the wall of a cave or something like that. I want to be with you. I want to watch you make the figures on the wall. I want to watch your work. Happy heart. The tribal law forbids that we be here alone. My father is chief, Katatoka. My father will forgive me if I smile at him. Though... I... You must go. But I want to watch your work. Happy heart, we are young, but we are grown. Speak like a child does not become us. Have I spoken like a child? You call this, this what I am doing, work. It is not work. It is. No. No, work is hunting and making war. Work is that which makes other men proud and envious, not scornful. And big work is that which make other men try to copy you. And if I think the pictures you make on the wall of the cave are big work? That happy heart is because our hearts beat as one. Katatoka, you love me. Ack of fear in my breast. You're afraid for me, Katatoka. The beauty is like... like the first flower of spring. It is like the pink glow of the sky before the dawn. And... I am not the only one who sees you so. You speak of running wolf? I speak of running wolf. Running wolf, the strongest of the strong, the bravest of the brave. Katatoka, to be swift as the wind, to kill the great bear and laugh as the great bear dies. Yes, these things, these things win honor among our tribesmen. These things are big work. Make other men try to copy him. But these things do not find their way to my heart, Katatoka. Your droid. Running wolf. He's seen us. Yes, he's seen us. Now he's gone to your father. Hey, this is interesting. What happened then, Foy? Well, wait. The boy and girl talked in the cave, and this other guy saw him. Now we have to move to the next picture. Here. Looks like a powwow. Yeah, let's see. That's the chief there, that guy. And this bird looks like the one the boy and girl in the cave caught watching him. It's my guess he's in love with the girl, so he's gone to the chief to tell him about the girl watching the boy. I would like to see you, great chief, to talk of something that is in my heart and burns there like the great fire god himself. You have come to talk to me about that which makes your eyes as those of the hungry otter. Happy heart, most beautiful of all maidens. Graceful as the aspen tree, young as the spring itself. Is that not so, running wolf? It is so, old chief. And what would you say to me about my daughter, happy heart? I would say that the sun is high in the sky, and the time has come for the bravest of the brave to win her with his swiftness and his strength and his cunning. And why, running wolf, do you think such a time has come? She... Happy heart is young. Another summer, another winter, another spring can come and go. And still there is time for the bravest of the brave to win her with his swiftness and his strength and his cunning. No. No? Where is the daughter of the great chief now? With the women. With the soft one. The soft one. Happy heart is in the big cave with kata toka. Kata toka. He who mixes the juice of a berry with the grease from a duck's breast and paints. And as he paints, happy heart smiles and leans close, and her eyes are like those of the young doe who watches the great buck drink from the whispering stream. Running wolf has the eyes of a circling buzzard. Happy heart? Running wolf has the cunning of the coyote and the waggling tongue of an old, old woman. Running wolf has the eyes to see the beauty that was meant for him, whose arrow flies true and who has no fear in his heart. Go, running wolf. Leave us. I will talk to happy heart. I go, chief. But the sun is high in the sky, and the time is now. Happy heart. Yes, father. It will be known before the sun rises again. He who brings me the body of the chief of all the buffaloes will claim you and take you to his teepee as his wife. No. This is our law. Will you hear me, father? I will hear you, happy heart. I love kata toka. If kata toka brings me the body of the chief of all the buffaloes. But he's not like running wolf. He's not a great hunter. You, the daughter of the chief, would marry a lesser man? He's not less. I've been watching him work. Work? Big work? Is that which makes other men try to copy him? Kata toka is called a soft one. Go, tell him. If he brings me the body of the chief of all the buffaloes, he can claim you. My gosh, with love it's always something. Now why didn't the old chief just let the two of them get married and leave it at that? Well this was a long time ago, Al. Being a brave was something more than just being brave. A man had to be a good hunter to keep alive. I don't see anything so great about killing a big buffalo. You ever try it with a bow and arrow? No. Bringing that buffalo in means that the guy proves he can take care of the girl. But what if he can't get the biggest buffalo? Well, we'll see. Let's look at the next picture. Right there, for you. Yeah. Hmm. The boy and the girl are in the cave again. I guess she's probably telling him that if he wants to marry her, he's going to have to go out. My father, Kata toka, and you make me afraid. The cloud of fear has crossed the moon of our love. Running wolf whose arrow flies the truest, he will win you, Happy Heart. I will die before I go to his tipi as his wife. Do you love me that much, Happy Heart? Yes, Kata toka. I love you that much. You... you do not scorn me because I am not a great hunter? I love you, Kata toka. There is no room for scorn in my heart. I love you. And I love your work. Then perhaps the great god who watches over those in love will help me. What do you mean? Your love will make me strong, Happy Heart. Your love will make me ride like the wind. Your love will give me courage. And in the great herd of buffalo to the north, I will find the chief of all the buffaloes and I will cut him out of the herd riding swift and true. I'm afraid, Kata toka. I will ride him down and leap upon his back and sink my knife into his throat. Then I will bring him and lay him before your father. And then I will claim you. I'll ride to the herd with you. We go now. Hey, he's going to try to get the biggest buffalo anyway, huh? That's what he looks like, Al. Well, you've got to admire the guy's courage. There is an artist and just the same he's going to try to win his girl the tough way. Well, I just hope he wins, that's all. Yeah, me too, Scotty. Now let's look at the next picture. Well, there's the herd of buffalo and there's him and the girl on their horses. He looks like he's looking for the biggest one. There stands the chief of all the buffaloes. Yes, Kata toka. He spells us out. He knows we are to do battle. Go, Kata toka, and my heart goes with you. And my heart stays with you. Prepare to die, great one. Kata toka! Kata toka! This is terrible. Poor guy, he wasn't a good enough hunter. Looks like he couldn't stick with the buffalo and got trampled to death. He's not dead yet. He's hurt, but he ain't dead. Yeah, I think you're right, Scotty. Let's move to the next picture. Hmm. No, he's not quite dead, see? The girl brought him back to the cave and tried to nurse him. I guess it is. So that he'd live. You shouldn't have tried, Kata toka. I was afraid, and you shouldn't have tried. We could have run away together. No, no, Happy Heart. That I should die from trying, that at least is honorable. To run away is to die many times. But your work... Now your work will be unfinished, Kata toka. And I will be alone. No, my pretty Happy Heart. My spirit will always be with you. My work is finished. Look, look on the wall. Kata toka. You knew this would happen. Tell me now. Am I a match for the chief of all the buffaloes, Happy Heart? Oh, Kata toka. My work is finished. Our story is told, Happy Heart. Goodbye, beloved. I love you. Happy Heart. Never call me by that name again, my father. Call me now, the weeping one. For never again will my eyes be dry. No, my heart happy. All honor to Kata toka. Who on the wall of this cave has done peak work? All honor to Kata toka. All honor to Kata toka. All honor to Kata toka. Who on the wall of this cave has done peak work? All honor to Kata toka. And ashes on the head of the weeping one's father. Who failed to honor him when he lived. But the story is not finished. With Kata toka's paints, I, chief of this tribe, will paint a picture of myself grieving over him who did big work. I shall paint such a picture. Big work is that. That which makes men want to copy. Yes, my daughter. Big work is that which makes men want to copy. Hey, it stopped raining, guys. We can go now. Okay, Scotty. Oh, do you think this is a true story? I don't know, Al. All I can say is there's the picture of the grieving chief there. And sure wasn't painted by the same guy that painted the rest of the picture. It's a sad story, you know it? Yeah. I wonder what ever happened to the girl. She probably lived the rest of her life alone and then joined the painter in a happy hunting ground. Well, I hope so anyway. This is a good way to spend a rainy afternoon. You know it? Reading pictures on the wall of a cave. Music You know, bread is a bargain, folks, any way you look at it. They call bread the staff of life because ounce for ounce, bread is the best all around food you can eat. Especially Weber's bread. Bread fills in with nourishment where other foods leave off. Now just think a minute, folks. You eat bread almost every day of your life. Bread is important to you, both for good health and good eating. When you buy Weber's bread, you get all the vitamins and rich fresh ingredients that belong in good bread. Plus a satisfying new baked bread flavor that makes eating fun. That fun and flavor, the good health and good eating you get with every soft loaf of Weber's bread is what makes it a bargain on anybody's table. Servalos soon. Why don't you? Remember, Weber's bread in the bright blue gingham wrapper. Music To the ears of a discerning cowher hand, the prairie is not endlessly silent. It's filled with sounds that have meaning and provide company for the lonely rider. From these sounds, Foy Willing has fashioned his latest song, Prairie Echoes. Music Prairie echo, prairie echo, in the still of the blue, You'll hear the sigh of the west wind calling, While the world's asleep, you'll hear willows weep in the dew. Stars shining bright, far in the night, hear the coyote wail, Calling you with music of the trail. Prairie echo, prairie echo, as you wander alone, The deep purple shadows are falling. You'll be scheming of, you'll be dreaming of going home. While the deep purple shadows are falling, You'll be scheming of, you'll be dreaming of going home. Music Well, that about does it for this time, friends. We're always glad when you can be with us, and we invite you to join us again. Before we go, we want to thank Herb Butterfield, John Smith, Tony Barrett, and Helen Jarrell for helping us tell our story. This is Poy Willing speaking for Al Sloey, Johnny Paul, and Scotty Harrell, the writers of The Purple Sage, saying so long and the best of luck to all of you. Drifting along, singing a song under a western moon. From Hollywood, you've heard your all-star Western Theater, a VM Bear production starring America's great western singers, Poy Willing and the writers of The Purple Sage. This script was written and directed by Scott Barnworth. This is Terry O'Sullivan speaking. Produced and transcribed in Hollywood, your all-star Western Theater has been presented by the makers of that good Weber's bread. Be sure to listen in next week, same time, same station. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System. KHJ, the Don Lee Station, Los Angeles.
