 The angel Gabriel is never mentioned in the Bible as the angel of death. A president of the United States didn't learn to write until the age of 19. A famous popular song written in New York crossed the Atlantic twice before becoming popular in America. This is Lindsay McCary, ladies and gentlemen, back again with my Thespian cohorts to present another array of amazing facts and out-of-the-ordinary news stories on another session of Can You Imagine That? We'll return in a moment or two with the first item. Here's a question for those who claim to know the Bible. Where in the good book is the angel Gabriel mentioned as blowing the last trumpet? Give up? Well, the answer is that nowhere in the Bible is the angel Gabriel mentioned as blowing the last trumpet. Yes, it's true. St. John the Divine in the Apocalypse tells of angels sounding trumpets, but he mentions no names. And in St. Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 52, we read, We shall all be changed at the last trumpet, for the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall all be changed. But by neither St. John nor St. Paul is the angel Gabriel mentioned as blowing the last trumpet. As a matter of fact, specific reference to Gabriel are very few in the scriptures. Then how did the connection arise between Gabriel and the last trumpet? Listen to this legend of Northern England. There is a pack of phantom hounds, Gabriel hounds they are, and they roam the skies. They foretell death by their unworthly howling in the dead of the night. They are the souls of unbaptized children that must roam the skies in phantom shape until the judgment day. On a still night you may hear them howling in the skies when somebody is about to die. They are Gabriel's hounds. There we have an interesting superstition that helps to give the angel Gabriel his connection with the last judgment. Two in the same part of England, the sounds made by certain wild geese in flight at night are known as Gabriel's ratchets. Their honking as they pass swiftly over town and village is likened to the last trumpet. But nowhere in the Bible is the angel Gabriel mentioned as the angel of death blowing the last call to judgment. Can you imagine that? Here's an amusing little story about the 17th president of the United States, Andrew Johnson. It happened just after Johnson had been elected governor of the state of Tennessee in 1853. The door to his office opens and the secretary enters. Oh, yes, John. Judge Pepper's just arrived. Your Excellency wishes to see you. Pepper, oh, have him come in right away. Yes, sir. This way, Judge Pepper. Andrew, well, it's good to see you ensconced within these venerable walls. Thank you, Judge. Thank you. Sit down. You can't stay but a moment. I just dropped in to make you a presentation of these. Well, a hand-wrought pair of fire tongs and a shovel for my fireplace here. Well, that's wonderful, Judge. Wonderful. That's right. You know, before I studied law, I used to be a blacksmith. Yes, I... See, you don't mean to tell me you made these tools yourself. I did just that. And best of luck, Andrew. Well, I must be off. Just took a short recess from court. See you soon again, Andrew. Goodbye, Judge. Thanks. This is a wonderful gift. Made him with his own hands, huh? Oh, uh, John. John. Yes, Your Excellency. John, I want you to find out for me who Judge Pepper's tailor is. His tailor, sir? That's right. And find out what Judge Pepper's measurements are. His measurements? Yes, sir. Because if he can give me a present he made with his own hands, I can give him one. Oh, but Your Excellency, you're not a blacksmith or a carpenter. No, but I am a tailor. A tailor? Yes, a tailor. And I'm going to make Judge Pepper a fine black broadcloth coat with my own hands. Yes, sir. Sitting cross-legged tailor-style on his desk in the gubernatorial offices at night, Andrew Johnson, governor of the great state of Tennessee, later to become president of the United States, cut and sewed a broadcloth coat for his friend, Judge W.W. Pepper. To this day, this very coat rests in the historical museum of the state of Tennessee as the only coat of its kind in the world, the only coat ever made by a state governor who was also vice president and president. It was during Johnson's boyhood that he learned the tailoring trade, apprenticed out to O'Reilly, North Carolina tailor, and chained for six years to a table and a pair of shears. Another interesting sidelight on Andrew Johnson is this. It wasn't until he married Eliza McCartle when young Johnson was 19 that he finally learned to write. Can you imagine that? Here, too, are some more glances at odd facts in the lives of American presidents. Franklin Pierce, the 14th president, was born on a Friday, inaugurated on a Friday, and died on a Friday. The next president after Pierce, James Buchanan, was the only one who never married, remaining a bachelor until his death. Another strange fact, Virginia, of course, is known as the mother of presidents. Actually, however, the state of Virginia better looked to her laurels. For while eight presidents claimed Virginia as their birthplace, beginning with U.S. Grant, seven have been born in Ohio. And can you imagine this? Up to the present writing, only one president has been born west of the Mississippi River, the 30th president of the United States, Herbert Clark Hoover, born at West Branch, Iowa. Well, the title of this news story, I've dug up from a newspaper of December 17, 1903, could well be the strange disappearance of Mr. Holland's new shoes and green gators. It seems that Mr. Julius Holland engaged a room at the Great Northern Hotel in Chicago. He purchased a new pair of patent leather shoes and nice new green gators. The next morning, Mr. Holland appeared before the clerk of the hotel minus shoes, said he. Clerk! Clerk, come here! Yes, sir? Now look here, what kind of a hotel is this? A person goes to bed at night and wakes up in the morning with half his clothing stolen. Just a minute, Mr. Holland, please. Not so loud. Well, I don't care how loud I am. I want my new patent leather shoes and my new green gators. They were stolen while I slept. But that's impossible. Is it? Well, then take a look at my feet. I'm minus shoes. Just a minute. We'll take care of everything, Mr. Holland. Just a minute. The house detective was called, and soon he and Mr. Holland were on their way to Holland's room. Once there. Now, Mr. Holland, we'll see what's around here. You took the shoes and gators off last night. Well, certainly. But if I'd known what was going to happen, I'd have slept in them. Uh-huh. Oh, why'd you put them when you took them off near the door? I did not. I put them in that box over there. In that box? Of course. Thought they'd be safe there. But it seems that... Mr. Holland, we'll have your shoes and gators back in three minutes. Well, I certainly hope so. But how can you be so sure? Mr. Holland, you did not put your shoes and gators in a little box, as you call it. That, Mr. Holland, is not a box, and your shoes and gators will be found in the basement. For that little box just happens to be the outlet in this room for the air shaft. Well, thus did Mr. Julius Holland learn that it is not always wise to fly off the handle nor to criticize without reason. We hope Mr. Holland's brand-new shoes and nice green gators were only a little soil after their trip down an air shaft. Several times during this series, you've heard how chance remarks dropped unintentionally in casual conversation have led to the writing of some of our most memorable popular songs. Here's another case. In the early 90s, that famous old New York showman, Tony Pastor, began the importation of English songwriters. He discovered that those clever British had a certain something in their writing which American lyricists and composers had not yet captured. One of these English writers was Harry Dacker. Shortly after his arrival, he met the dean of American songwriters of the day, William Jerome, and as the two conversed casually... You're right, of course. You know, I had another rather startling experience as I came ashore yesterday. Is that so? What was it, Mr. Dacker? Well, I suppose it wasn't really anything, but when I went over to the freight counter to arrange for the delivery of my bicycle, I discovered that your American customers required me to pay duty on the thing. Hmm, much? No, not much, but it was surprising because we don't do that sort of thing on the other side, you know. Oh, well, you can be glad it wasn't a tandem. A tandem? Why? If it had been a bicycle built for two, you'd have paid double duty. Wait. What's the matter? A bicycle built for two. Mr. Jerome, that's my first American song. It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet on the seat of a bicycle built for two. Yes, it was that chance remark of William Jerome's that led Harry Dacker to write the now famous Daisy Bell known to us also, of course, as bicycle built for two. But a more surprising fact lies in the story following its writing. After Daisy Bell had been published in New York, Dacker could persuade no entertainer to use it in his act. All the popular singers of the day shied away from the first American effort of an English songwriter. And so the song which Dacker had thought would introduce him to American audiences seemed doomed to ignominious oblivion, until he played it for the then popular Kate Lawrence. She liked it and agreed to use it, but told Dacker she was about to sail for England with a lot of appearances in the London music halls. Dacker released the song for her use and when Kate Lawrence sang it, it caught on immediately. It became so popular that it was even played at the Royal Wedding of the Duke of York. Naturally the news of this smash hit Hop the Atlantic and New York Publishers scrambled for the rights to the new song only to discover that it was already published and in New York. Thus Harry Dacker's first American song had to cross the Atlantic twice before it became a hit in America. Can you imagine that? Well now once more friends, it's time to turn you over to your own station announcer. And as we meet again, this is Lindsay McCarrie saying goodbye now.