 Hello there, I'm Ruth Chambers and this is the Chambers Street Theatre and of course It's not just me who does this show There are three of us the other two you can't see because they're in the control room over to the side there And that would be Alex Silva-Satter and Bryce Parker Who are technical people and the three of us work on this show so that we can do a Halfway decent job each week and they've been coming up with some nice special effects And I'm sure you'll appreciate them as you see them It's one thing to sit here and read a story and that can be done But I think it makes it a little more interesting when we have some pictures and some special effects and Well, it just makes for a more interesting half hour Well the Chambers Street Theatre Was my sort of invention there really was a Chambers Street Theatre in New York in The 1840s it was on Chambers Street, which is a street that's still there in New York and Of course the theater is long gone But that's how we got the name of the show and I've written a book because I got involved with living history over an old Sacramento the weight of gold and I've just finished the Expanded second edition and it's going to the publisher and I'll let you know when it's available But I like to read some of my stories, but mostly we read a lot of Mark Twain But today we're going to read not Mark Twain So it's gonna be a different kind of show We're sort of calling this Half-hour survival because we deal with various survival issues and the first story We're going to read is one I wrote from my second book the expanded weight of gold and this one's called one shot and That's chapter 41 James it's time to get dinner and with those words James got his rifle and one bullet and left the house James was walking into the trees where he knew he could find something. He moved quietly Towards the stream He knew animals would go there late in the day He worked his way into the low-growing bushes. He was close enough and Hidden enough The breeze was away from the stream Animals would not smell him James carefully took one shell out of his pocket and put it in the rifle if he missed It was no dinner for him This would be his fourth day with a miss and no place at the dinner table Those were the family rules to train a shooter one rifle One bullet each day Until the shooter got smart enough and good enough to get his game Each time James missed it was no dinner for him when the rest of the family Enjoyed the main meal of the day with his favorite biscuits and gravy It wasn't just the accuracy of the shot Where to hide close enough and check the direction of the wind Animals could smell a man and animals knew there were always hunters Even without the scent the animals knew to watch carefully for the rising of the rifle to the eye of the hunter Animals knew what that meant James without a rifle had often walked near an animal and the animals didn't run They knew the rifle James hunkered down in the low shrubs and waited. It was the waiting that took time Perhaps a rabbit or a possum or Best of all a deer James had to make his kill in his name There was no free ride in the Hicks family Everyone had to pitch in with the work men had to learn to provide and One rifle and one bullet was the rule no waste no second chance It was cold James could feel the cold come up through his feet into his crouching legs He wanted to stretch but he knew he couldn't move stay low Stay quiet James saw some movement across the stream. It could be anything even another hunter True. This was Hicks land But James didn't want to shoot a man a man had to get dinner A stream was a good place James watched and waited He had to make his shot count Brother Hank got his game second time out Already James was the bunt of family jokes Wait Don't move The undergrowth moved again Was the animal testing for shooters? James legs were going to sleep, but he did not move His rifle was on target and waiting for a clean shot James had gone without family dinner three times. He didn't want a fourth time It wasn't that he was hungry. It was a rite of passage and he hadn't made it Some bear sticks rose out of the undergrowth. What was that? He waited Slowly a large buck moved carefully forward to the stream Those sticks were part of an amazing perfect rack a Very wise buck who had tested his way many times Now it was safe to lower his head and drink the cool melted snow water James was stunned by the beauty of this animal Nothing James had ever seen was as beautiful as this buck James waited He wanted a clean shot The buck raised his head as a drinking animal will do That was when James squeezed the trigger Sending the bullet just above the front thighs and into the heart for a clean kill James ran over splashing through the stream to the fallen buck The buck was so beautiful James was sorry and proud at the same time One rifle and one shot he had done it and it wasn't a rabbit or worse a squirrel It was a buck a grown buck who should be it live At the same time he must be dead James sank to his knees and hugged this huge animal around the neck You're mine, and I'll wear your skin all my life James came a cry from the direction of the trees behind James. It was Hank. You did it I look at it. It's the biggest buck I've ever seen Hank rose and splashed across the stream James looked up at Hank James had tears running down his face He's mine said James Yes, he's yours replied Hank, and you did it with one shot clean through the heart Hank kneeled down besides James and stroke the side of the buck So beautiful and fat We'll eat off this forever Got him so we can carry him home Through runny nose and tears James said he's mine Yes, you got the best fourth try is the lucky one the boys laughed James took his side knife and ran it down the stomach of the buck The boys quickly cleaned out the cavity of the buck and tied the legs to a small sapling they cut So the buck would hang from the pole between them as they walked Just as they stood up to carry the deer A sound was heard The boys looked around And saw a wolf crouching and slinking towards them This one must have been starving to take a chance with two hunters He looked fat Then the boys saw the second wolf And then a third wolf All the boys had was James rifle with a spent bullet and Hank's rifle with one bullet The boys slowly lowered the deer in times like this two minds are one as James held his rifle by the barrel To use the rifle as a club Hank raised his gun to his eyes Hoping if he shot the first wolf it would scare off the others Bang went the gun just as the wolf jumped forward ruining Hank's shot The bullet landed towards the stomach of the wolf not the heart Damn was all Hank said as the wolf kept coming towards him at the same time James was taking a downward swing at the wolf hitting him in the net just behind the ears a good hit The wolf went limp and fell was it the bullet or the hitting the boys didn't care The animal fell together as one they lifted the buck and ran carrying the buck between them They didn't drop the rifles never drop your rifle Even if it's empty they ran as fast as they could with this heavy buck they had to save They knew one Or both would be killed by the two other wolves But they kept running and stumbling with the deer between them As they reached the tree neither was jumped and they looked to each Then slowed Because they were dragging the deer it was so heavy and they were so scared together they looked back and saw Two wolves on top of the first wolf Both boys started laughing as they picked up their prize and bolted as best they could into the trees It wasn't far to the house, but they couldn't run and were afraid to walk They were laughing and laughing again They couldn't run the best they could do was a sort of trot and now and then stumble What a story this would be And that's the story one shot That's the way it was Back when my father was a boy Back when maybe your grandfather was a boy You'd go out with one bullet and one rifle and you were expected to get dinner And you did Some of these stories Well, they're going to be lost If somebody doesn't write about them And that's why I wrote this story one shot Because as we move along we forget some of the stories And we forget what our grandparents had to do to survive Well, this is just a story I wrote It's not the greatest Story in the whole world But it's about a true incident And then I just wrote a story around it with James and Hank Well, now we're going to read another kind of survival And this is By robert w service. He's one of my favorite authors. He wrote a lot about The gold rush up in alaska. So we're talking about chilly weather And this is one of my favorite robert w service poems I hope you like it. I love it. And we've got some good pictures to go with this And special effects. Let's not forget those special effects This is The cremation of sam magie There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the man who moi for gold The arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold The northern lights have seen queer sights But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of lake labarge I cremated sam magie Now sam magie was from tennessee Where the cotton blooms and blows Why he left his home in the south to roam around the pole God only knows He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell Though he'd often say in his homely way That he'd sooner live in hell On a christmas day, we were mushing our way over the dawson trail Talk of your cold Through the park's fold it's stabbed like a driven nail If our eyes would close then the lashes froze till sometimes We couldn't see It wasn't much fun But the only one to whimper was sam magie And that very night as we packed tight in our robes beneath the snow And the dogs were fed and the stars or head were dancing heel and toe He turned to me and cap says he I'll cash in this trip I guess And if I do I'm asking you won't refuse my last request Well, he seemed so low That I couldn't say no Then he says with a sort of moan It's the cursed cold and it's got right hold Till I'm chilled clean through to the bone Yet ain't being dead it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains So I want you to swear that fair or foul You'll cremate my last remains A pal's last need is a thing to heed So I swore I would not fail And we started on at the streak of dawn But God he looked ghastly pale He crouched on the sleigh and he raved all day about his home in Tennessee And before a nightfall a corpse was all that was left of sam magie There wasn't a breath in that land of death and I hurried horror driven With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid because of a promise given It was lashed to the sleigh and it seemed to say You may tax your brawn and brains But you promise true And it's up to you to cremate those last remains Now a promise made is a debt unpaid And the trail has its own stern code In the days to come though my lips were numb In my heart how I cursed the land In the long long night by the lone fire light While the huskies round in a ring Held out their woes to the homeless snows Oh God how I load the thing And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow And on I went though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low The trail was bad and I felt half mad but I swore I would not give in And I'd often sing to the hateful thing And it harkened with a grin Till I come to the marge of Lake Labarge And a derelict there lay It was jammed in the ice but I saw in a thrice It was called the Alice May And I looked at it and I thought a bit And I looked at my frozen chum Then here said I with a sudden cry Is my crematorium Some planks I tore from the cabin floor And I lit the boiler fire Some coal I found that was lying round and I heaped the fuel higher The flames just soared and the furnace roared Such a blaze you seldom see And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal And I stuffed in Sam McGee Then I made a hike for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so And the heavens scowled and the huskies howled And the wind began to blow It was icy cold but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks And I don't know why And the greasy smoke and the inky cloak Went streaking down the sky I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with my grisly fear But the stars came out and they danced about ere I ventured near I was sick with dread but I bravely said I'll just take a peep inside I guess he's cooked It's time I looked Then the door I opened wide And there sat Sam looking cool and calm In the heat of the forest roam And he wore a smile you could see a mile and he said Please close that door It's fine in here but I greatly fear You let in the cold and storm Since I left Plum Tree down in Tennessee It's the first time I've been warm There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold And the arctic trails have their secret tails That would make your blood run cold The northern lights have seen queer sights But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Labarge I cremated Sam McGee And there that's a kind of a survival story One man survived And another man survived also as long as he sat in a furnace I hope you like those special effects Our gentlemen in the control room are in charge of that Well we have another story here This one's just a short one It's written by an author and I won't say his name first Because a lot of us today don't even remember him But during his heyday he was a very popular author He was a successful newspaper editor And he wrote in a review once This was a review of the play King Lear He wrote in the review that the actor playing Lear King Lear was looking over his shoulder All through the performance to see if there was an ace coming up Now if you know your cards You know an ace beats a king So that's pretty darn funny And I think that's pretty darn funny And it's of course the humor of the time The late 1800s So who is this forgotten person or overlooked person Well his name's Eugene Field And of course you may recall some of his more sentimental poems Because the times were also sentimental But I like this poem it's called The Little Peach A little peach in the orchard grew A little peach of emerald hue Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew It grew One day passing the orchard through That little peach dawned on the view Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue Those two Up at the peach a club he threw Down from the tree on which it grew Fell the little peach of emerald hue Mondu She took a bite and he a chew And then the trouble began to brew Trouble the doctor couldn't subdue Too true Under the turf where the daisies grew They planted John and his sister Sue And their little souls to the angels flew Boo hoo But what of the peach of emerald hue Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew Ah well Its mission on earth was through a dew I like that poem That's pretty good huh Well there's some survival The two kids didn't make it And the peach was eaten But a problem was solved wasn't it Well that's our show for today I hope you enjoyed it We enjoy getting these things together The three of us We're always looking for something special And in upcoming weeks Because we have some wonderful special effects That involve either a jumping frog Or some kind of moving around thing We're going to probably And I know it's true Probably be reading Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven And we'll have a flying raven So don't miss next week or the week after Because we're always trying to do something special And I'm sure you saw those special furnace flames this week They were very good Sometimes we hit it right on the mark Well all of us want to thank you Alex Silva-Satter, Bryce Parker and myself Until next week This is Ruth Chambers with the Chambers Street Theatre Look for your blessings They're always there