The makers of Weber's Bread present your all-star Western theater produced in Hollywood and transcribed for release at this more convenient time. From Hollywood comes your all-star Western theater starring America's great Western singers, Roy Willing and the Riders of the Purple Sage, bringing you the music, the stories, and the spirit of the great open spaces. Today's special guest, the singing troubadour, Nick Lucas. And now here are the Riders of the Purple Sage. Riding in the blazing sun all day, riding in the saddle all day long, to along in lonesome cowboy song, riding through the burning desert sand, through the land and country where a man's a man, and I'll go riding, roping in the blazing sun all day, singing, swinging as I travel on my way, riding, rocking, roping, grinding cattle all day long, singing and swinging to a cowboy song, riding, roping in the blazing sun all day. Hello there friends. Mighty good to be back with you again in your all-star Western theater where we have the privilege of bringing you our Western songs and stories. And now since we've already rung up the curtain with something kind of snappy, we'd like to slow down to an easy trot and sing a ballad for you. It's a favorite of almost everybody's and we especially like it. Sometime. Love's old song. The gray sky above you will change to fairest blue. Sometime. Someone will whisper, I love you, love you true. Ah, mighty sweet boys, mighty smooth singing. But before you hitch up your music for another song, let's remind the folks listening in about bread. Weber's bread, a good bread with a taste as fresh as spring air. Now folks, we're not fooling when we say Weber's bread has a fresh taste. Somehow or other it always seems to taste as if it just came out of the oven. Well, as a matter of fact it should because Weber's bread is delivered fresh baked every morning to your grocer. And what's more, Weber's bread is uncommonly good bread when we bake it, and it's uncommonly good bread when you serve it. So why don't you climb on the bread wagon soon, try the fresh plump loaf and the bright blue gingham wrapper. Good Weber's bread. Now back to all-star Western Taser. Ah, doesn't that sound familiar, doesn't it folks? It's your old friend and great favorite, Nick Lucas, the crooning troubadour. Welcome to All-Star, Nick. Thank you, boy. Quite a corral you boys have here. Well, pull up a rail and sit down, Nick. You got your guitar all tuned up and ready to go? I sure have. Then how about a medley of some of the great songs that you made famous? All right, boy. I'll sing three. I hope you remember. All right, Nick, that'll be great. I'm looking over a pretty little folly clover that I overlooked before. There's nothing left for me of days that used to be. I live in memories among my souvenirs. Pack up all my cares and more, here I go singing low. Bye, bye, Blackbird, where somebody waits for me, sugar sweet, so is she. Bye, bye, Blackbird, no one he can love and understand me. Oh, what harlequin stories they all hand me. Make my bed and light the light, I'll arrive late tonight. Blackbird, bye, bye. Oh, that was really fine. We'll ask you to sing again right after our story, Nick. Right now, Terry O'Sullivan, how about taking over? Boy Willing and the writers of The Purple Sage are ready now to tell you another of their adventures in the West. This is the tale they call The Year of the Terrible Blizzard. As you leave Cheyenne and head west, the great stretches of Wyoming spread before you mile upon endless mile. The area is sparsely populated. A man can ride almost all day without seeing a sign of human habitation. The few people whose ranches dock this area live far apart and lead lonely, isolated lives, being constantly engaged in the never-ending battle with an always demanding, sometimes cruel nature. In the winter, nature further isolates the settlers, and it's of a relentless blizzard which swept mercilessly across this area that our story's about. Foy Willing, Al Sloy, and Johnny Paul have spent the summer and fall in Montana, and now as usual they're heading south for the winter. But they didn't start soon enough, for as they ride along this lonely trail they feel the cold blast of a north wind and look uneasily at the ugly clouds scudding low across the Wyoming sky. Boys, I don't like the looks of those clouds one little bit. Me neither, Foy. Looks like a blizzard's in the making. Smells like it too. Yeah, it does, Johnny. And it's getting colder by the minute. If we don't see a farmhouse or something pretty soon... We're gonna be in trouble. I'm afraid you're right, Al. We ought to ride faster. That's dangerous too, Johnny. We've been pushing these horses since five o'clock this morning. Yeah. If we don't sight a farmhouse or a railroad siding or something by nightfall, brother, I'm gonna get scared. You'll have a couple of guys for company, Al, and I'm not kidding. Boy, we're in for it now. In case you boys don't recognize it, this is an A-number-one first-class blizzard. I recognize it. You can't see ten feet in front of your face. Stick close together, boys, and I mean close. I know what you mean. We get separated. Hold up, boys. You hear that too, boy? Yeah. Listen. That's a school bell. I think you're right, Johnny. The wind must be ringing it. Well, if that's a school bell, there's a schoolhouse under it, and that's shelter for us. I can't tell which direction it's coming from. Listen. Sounds like it's off to the left. The wind makes it sound like it's coming from all directions. Listen again. You're right, boys. The left. Come on, boys. We're getting closer. Yeah, but with this wind and snow, we might be fifty feet from it and never see it. Listen close, Johnny. We've got to find it. We're getting there. It's a good thing. I haven't felt anything in my feet for thirty minutes. We'd better hurry. We're going away from it. Al's right, boy. It's getting fainter. Listen. Bear to the right, boys. We've hit it. There's the shed. Put the horses in there and get inside. Oh, my lady. She's been ringing the bell. Lady. She's hysterical. Lady. I can't help it. Shake her, boy. Lady, stop it. Stop it. I can't. I'm sorry I had to slap you, but you were hysterical. I know. Don't apologize. You've been ringing that bell all this time, ma'am? Yes. Oh, my arms. I don't think I could pull that rope once more. We thought it was the William. Yeah. You're the school teacher, ma'am? Yes, I'm Miss Martin. This is Al Slowy, Johnny Paul. I'm Foy Willing. You've probably saved us from freezing to death. I'm very frightened, Mr. Willing. And you were ringing the bell in the hopes that somebody would hear you. Yes, this is the worst blizzard I ever saw. You've got a solvent cold, haven't you, Miss Martin? One bucket of coal, Mr. Slowy. One bucket? My load was to be delivered tomorrow. Because I have so little coal that I told the driver of the school bus to try to get the children home. But what about you, Miss Martin? The people I live with come for me at 4.30 every afternoon. They'll never get through now. Don't you worry, Miss Martin. We'll ride this blizzard out with you. It's not me I'm worried about. It's the children. If that bus gets stalled on the road, those children will freeze to death. Do you have a phone here, Miss Martin? Yes, but I can't get an answer from Central. Let's try again. If we can get through to town, they can probably send out a snowplow. Here you are. No answer? No answer. The lines are probably down. We'll try again. Please. Please. No good. But what do we do? How long ago did the school bus leave here? At least two hours ago. And all those children. Easy, Miss Martin. I'm sorry. They probably got home all right, Miss Martin. They're probably all around their kitchen ranges, warm as toast. I'm so worried I should have been here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so worried I should have gone on the bus to see that they got there safely. Well, boys, there ought to be something to do, Foy. But what? That's the question, all right, Johnny. And what about us? Supposing the blizzard last three or four days. There's only one bucket of coal here. We can break up the desks and burn them in the stove. Foy, the horses. They'll freeze to death out there in that shed. You can bring them in here. Put them in the cloakroom. Hey, there's a guy here on the step. What? Get out. Come here. Help me. That's the driver of the school bus. Grab his legs, Al. Yeah, sure. Something's happened to the bus. Lift. Bring him up by the stove. Right here. Johnny, put the rest of that coal on the fire. Grab his red. This is one of the few times I ever thought bourbon would come in handy. Here. Johnny, bless you. I carry it in case of snake bite or blizzard. The bus is towed. I know it is. I expect you're right, Miss Martin. Hold his head up, Al. Yeah. Flap him. That'll help. I've got to get there. Joe, you're here. I've got to... Joe! Open your eyes. Miss Martin. The children. Did you get them home? No. Oh, Joe. I couldn't see the road. I went into the ditch. Oh, no. I couldn't see. Ten feet. Are the children still in the bus? Yeah. Nobody heard. But they'll freeze to death. I left the motor on and the heater on. Where's the bus, Joe? It's about a mile up the road. Phone for help. Joe? Tell them to follow the fence posts. I can't see the road. Joe, how long did it take you to get back here? Forever. Wait, Mr. Willing, I can tell you. Oh, now I'm really scared. It must have taken him nearly two hours to get back here. Johnny, give him another nip of that bourbon. Al and I are getting up the road to bring those kids back, and we're taking your horse. Now we're gonna get the door open. Wait till I scrape the snow away. The bus is nearly covered. Here's the handle. Help me pull. That's enough. The engine's dead. Gas gauge says empty. I wonder how long. The heater's cold. I just hope we're not too late, that's all. Look at those kids. They're asleep, boy. This little fella's heart's beating, and he's warm. They're freezing now. We've gotta get them back there fast. How are we gonna take them, boy? There's ten. Tie six on Johnny's horse and two on each of ours. Okay, let's get moving. Miss Martin, don't. It can't help any. I'm sorry, Mr. Willing. But to see those ten children lying on the floor there around the stove, just this morning they were so full of energy and alive. They still are alive. Just barely. That's better than nothing. What do you think our chances are? I... I hesitate to say, Miss Martin. What time is it, Miss Martin? Just after midnight, Mr. Snowy. I hate to say it, but I've just put the last desk in the stove. Oh, no. Well, I guess the two inside doors go next. They won't last long, boy. That wood burns awful fast. What about the shed outside? It's wet from the snow. Yeah, sure. Johnny and the bus driver are lying down around the stove with the kids. Close to them for body warmth. Yeah. I guess we ought to do the... There go the lights. As long as we had electricity, there was hope for the telephone. That's gone now. Do you have a flashlight, Miss Martin? No. Well, let's lie down with the children. The fire's gone out. What time is it? It's three o'clock. Three-five, Mr. Worling. Were you asleep, Miss Martin? No, I'm too cold to sleep. I'm scared to start ripping up the floor to keep the fire going. Don't do that, Al. Then we're gone for sure. Well, the horses are going to be late. I'll be back in a minute. I'll be back in a minute. I'll be back in a minute. I'll be back in a minute. I'll be back in a minute. I'll be back in a minute. Well, the horses are cold, too. The horses? What about them, Miss Martin? Bring them out of the cloakroom in... Can you make them lie down? Why, sure. Then do. They'll generate more body warmth. We'll put the children around them. Come on, Foy. Right with you, Al. Foy. Yeah, Al. I'm so cold, I'm numb. I can't feel a thing. Me, too. I'm scared to go to sleep. Do you think we'll survive this, boys? Wait, too, Miss Martin? Yes. But like you, I'm numb. The kids are still alive, but I don't know how much longer. It's nearly five o'clock. It'll be dawn soon. I've got a suggestion. What, Mr. Willing? I suggest we pray. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his namesake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thy preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou nightest my head with oil, my cup runnin' over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen. Amen. Ah...the...the...fool. I...I...got to...get awake. Gotta wake up. Hello? Hello? Send some help quick. We're freezing. Miss Martin there? Yeah. And the kids. Thank God. Bring coffee. And coal. We fixed an airplane with skis. Be there in 15 minutes. Look out the window and tell me if we can land alright. Can't see. Snow's bank. Up over windows. Never mind, we'll land. Just hold out for a few more minutes. Oh brother, look at that stove. Red hot and beautiful. You getting thawed out, boy? Yeah, Johnny. With the coffee and the hot soup and the fire, I'm beginning to think we'll pull through. They got that phone line repaired just in time, you know. I know. They got those kids and the bus driver and Miss Martin out of here just in time too. I wish we could have gone on that plane. And leave the horses? The snow plow will be through here in a couple of hours and we'll ride out. Yeah. You know how folks around here are going to date everything from now on, don't you? How? The year of the terrible blizzard. Boy, I'm wondering, do you suppose that prayer helped any? Well, I don't know, Al. But I sure hate to think what might have happened if we hadn't prayed. Music Folks, you know, the most important job in the world is that of housewife. Ask any husband, he'll tell you, yes ma'am, you housewives are important. Between sending the husband off to work, the kids to school, and keeping the whole family well fed, well, everyone agrees it's a full-time job. Now we don't say Weber's Bread will solve everything for you, but we do say you'll make your job easier at mealtime, lady, if you serve Weber's Bread three times a day. Yes, you know, good Weber's Bread satisfies all appetites. It's as smooth tasting and nourishing with soups or stew as it is with steak. It's a fact, Mrs. Housewife, Weber's Bread helps you bring an air of contentment to your hungry tribe at mealtime. You really ought to serve Weber's Bread all the time. You can buy it anywhere, you know. Next time you're in the store, look for Weber's bright blue gingham wrapper, won't you? Music Now, Nick? Right here, boy. How about another song? I want to be. Oh, let me see. I don't know, name off a few. My Best Girl, Rose-Colored Glasses, Tiptoe Through the Tulips. Now, that's the one we want to hear, and I'm going to play guitar with you, because when I was learning to play, the one man I wanted to play like was, and still is, you, Nick. Well, hit the chord, son, and let's go. Okay. Music Tiptoe to the window, by the window, that is where I'll become. Tiptoe through the tulips with me. Tiptoe from your pillow to the shadow of a willow tree. And tiptoe through the tulips with me. In flowers we'll stray, we'll keep the showers away. And if I kiss you in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me? Come tiptoe through the tulips with me. Music Needed in flowers we'll stray, we'll keep the showers away. And if I kiss you in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me? Come tiptoe through the tulips with me. Now the spotlight in your All-Star Western Theater swings to Foy Willing and the writers of The Purple Sage, singing the hauntingly beautiful Blue Shadows on the Trail. Blue Shadows on the Trail, blue moon shining through the trees, and a plaintive wail from the distance comes adrift in on the evening breeze. Move along, Blue Shadows, move along. Soon the dawn will come and you'll be on your way. But until the darkness sheds its veil, there'll be Blue Shadows on the Trail. Move along, Blue Shadows, move along. Soon the dawn will come and you'll be on your way. But until the darkness sheds its veil, there'll be Blue Shadows on the Trail. Shadows on the Trail. Well, that brings us to the end of the trail for this time, friends. We're always glad when you can be with us, and we invite you to join us again next week. Before we go, we want to thank Nick Lucas for being with us, and also Mary Lansing for helping us tell our story. This is Foy Willing speaking for Al Floyd, 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 along. From Hollywood, you've heard your All-Star Western Theater, the Amber production starring America's great Western singers, Foy Willing and the writers of The Purple Sage. The script was written and directed by Scott Farnworth. This is Mario Sullivan speaking. The makers of that good Weber's bread have brought you the All-Star Western Theater, produced and transcribed in Hollywood. This is the mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System. KHJ and KHJFM, the Don Lee stations Los Angeles.
