 And now another proudly we hail one of radio's outstanding dramatic half hour starring Lee Tracy and presented transcribed by your army and your Air Force. From Radio City, New York, here is your star and host on proudly we hail the distinguished Broadway stage screen and radio star Lee Tracy. Thank you Ken Banghart. Hello everyone. Welcome to the proudly we hail Christmas program. It is with pleasure that we present our proudly we hail adaptation of the world famous and beloved story of the otherwise man. Ken Banghart has a brief but timely message for you and then our play will begin. The United States Army and the United States Air Force have great need during these critical times for young men and young women to serve their country and fields for which they're best suited. So visit your nearest Army and Air Force recruiting station and learn how you too can help the cause of peace during the new year of 1951 by joining up today. With our star Lee Tracy as your narrator your army and your Air Force bring you all seasons greetings with the proudly we hail production of the other wise man. You know the story of the three wise men of the east and how they followed the star to the major cradle in Bethlehem. You know of the gifts they brought and the homage they paid in the stable to their new found king. But what do you know of the other wise man who also saw the star in its rising and set out to follow it? It is true he did not arrive with his brethren in the presence of the newborn babe called Yezu and yet he sought him. Yet he sought him above all else. Who was this fourth pilgrim? Listen now to the story of the other wise man. In the days when Herod reigned in Jerusalem they lived in the city of Ekpatania far to the eastward among the mountains of Persia a certain man named Artaban, the median. His house stood close to the outermost of the seven walls which encircled the royal treasury. From his roof he could look over the rising battlements to the distant hills. Around his dwellings spread a fair garden, a tangle of flowers and fruit trees, watered by a score of streams descending from the slopes of Mount Durantes and made musical by innumerable birds. But now all color is lost in the fragrant darkness of a late September night and all sounds are hushed in the deep charm of its silence. High above the trees a dim glow of light shines through the curtain arches of the upper chamber. Here Artaban is holding counsel with his friends. He stands before the tall dark man with brilliant eyes. He's dressed in a robe of pure white wool thrown over a tunic of silk and a white pointed cap with long lapels at the sides resting on his flowing black hair. This is the dress of the ancient priesthood of the Magi called the fire worshipers. You have come here tonight, my good friends, as the faithful scholars of the lower Asta to renew your worship and rekindle your faith in the God of purity. Hear me then, my friends, while I tell you of the new light and truth that have come to me through the most ancient of all signs, the stars. Do not our own books tell us that a new sunrise will dawn at an appointed time, that men will see the brightness of a great light? That is true. Every faithful disciple knows the prophecy of the investor and carries the word in his heart. I too have kept this prophecy in the secret place of my soul. Religion without a great hope would be like an altar without a living fire. Listen to this then, the prophecy of Balaam, one of the mightiest wise men of Kaldia. There shall come a star out of Jacob, and a scepter shall arise out of Israel. What of the stars of which you spoke out of him? What found you there? You know, my companions among the Magi, Casper, Melchior and Balthazar. We have studied the sky, and in the spring of the year we saw two of the greatest stars drawn here together in the sign of the fish, which is the house of the Hebrews. We also saw a new star there, which shone for one night and then vanished. Now again, the two stars are meeting. This night is their conjunction. My three brothers are watching at the ancient temple of the Seven Spheres at Porcipa in Babylonia, and I am watching here. If the star shines again, they will wait ten days for me at the temple, and then we shall set out together to find and worship the promised one who shall be born king of Israel. Are you serious? I believe the sign will come to Granus. In fact, I have made ready for the journey. I have sold this house in all my possessions and bought these three jewels, a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl. I shall carry them as a tribute to the king. I asked you here tonight to see if you would go with me on the pilgrimage that we may have joy together in finding the prince who is worthy to be served. Artiban, you have long been a trusted and honored friend, but this is a vain dream. It comes from too much looking upon the stars. It would be wiser to spend the time in gathering money for the new fire temple. No king will ever rise from the broken race of Israel, and no end will ever come to the eternal strife of light and darkness. He who looks for it is a chaser of shadows. I bid you good night. Artiban, I have no knowledge of these things, and my office's guardian of the royal treasure binds me here. The quest is not for me, but if thou must follow it, fare thee well. I am ill and unfit for hardship, Artiban. This quest is not for me, but may thy steps be prospered wherever thou goest. So fare well. Well, Abgarus, my father, you are all that is left. How say you? My son, it may be the light of truth is in this sign that has appeared in the skies. If so, it will surely lead to the prince and the mighty brightness. Or it may be as Tigranus has said, and he who follows it will have only a long pilgrimage and an empty search. But it is better to follow even the shadow of the best and to remain content with the worst. I am too old for this journey, but my heart shall be your companion day and night, and I shall know the end of thy quest. Go in peace. Artiban, having bid farewell to his guests, stood alone on the terrace of his roof, gazed out across the eastern plain. The cool wind that heralds daybreak was drawing downward from the snow-traced ravines of Mount Beranti. A white mantle of mist stretched over the lower land, but where the distant peak of Zagros reached upward, the sky was clear. Then, as Artiban watched, the two great stars of which he had spoken seemed to roll together like twin drops of flame about to blend into one. And then, behold, an azure spark was born out of the darkness beneath. Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it pulsated in the enormous vault of the universe. It was to Artiban as though the three jewels he clutched to his breast had been transformed into a living heart of light. He bowed his head and covered his brow with his hands. It is the sign the king is coming, and I shall go to meet him. There the sun had risen that day. Artiban, riding his swiftest horse, Vazda, began his journey westward to join his brothers in faith at the ancient temple of Corcipa. Through the keen early morning air, the swift hoofs beat their spirited music along the road. Artiban knew he must ride wisely and well if he would keep the appointed hour with the other magi. For the route was 150 parasongs, and 15 was all he could travel in a day. Onward he rode until he crossed the swirling floods of the Tigris and the many channels of the Euphrates and came at last on the tenth nightfall beneath the shattered walls of populous Babylon. My gallant Vazda, my proud beauty I have treated you ill. Gladly would I give you rest here, but it is still three hours journey to the temple of the seven spheres. We must reach there by midnight if I would find my convent's waiting. What is it, Vazda? Trouble ahead? I like not this dark grove either. Easy, easy. I shall have a look. Devil tree is this. A man lying in the road, poor rich. In the dim starlight, Artiban knelt by the silent figure. From his dress, Artiban knew him to be one of the poor Hebrew exiles who dwelt in great numbers in the vicinity. His pallid skin, dry and yellow bore the mark of the deadly fever which ravaged the marshlands and autumn. The chill of death was in his limp hand, and Artiban arose with the feeling of pity. He could do nothing here, but as he turned, a groan came from the man's lips. And a pleading hand reached out to grab the hem of his robe. Artiban stood unmoving in the road, his thoughts racing. How can I stay here in this dark, Mr. Minister, to a dying stranger? What claim has this unknown fragment of human life on me? If I linger but for an hour I cannot reach Borsipe at the appointed time, they will go on without me and I will lose my quest. But if I go now this man will surely die, and if I stay, life might be restored for I am physician as well as astrologer. Oh God of truth and purity, direct me in the holy path, the way of wisdom which thou only knowest. Then Artiban turned back to the sick man, loosened the grip of his hand and carried him to a little mound at the foot of a palm tree, hour after hour, Artiban labored, and at last the Hebrew strength returned. He sat up and looked about him. Who art thou? Why hast thou sought me here to bring back my life? I am Artiban, the Magian of the mountain. I am going to Jerusalem in search of one as to be born king of the Jews, a great prince and deliverer of all men. I cannot delay longer for the caravan that has awaited me may depart without me. Here is all that I have left of bread and wine, and here is a potion of healing herbs. When thy strength is restored, thou canst find the dwelling of your people among the houses of Babylon. Now may the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob bless and prosper your journey. I have nothing to give thee in return for your kindness, but I can tell thee where the Messiah must be sought. Our prophets have said that he should not be born in Jerusalem, but in Bethlehem of Judea. May the Lord bring thee in safety to that place, because thou hast had pity upon the sick. It was long past midnight when Artiban set out again. Vazda restored, but the rest ran eagerly through the silent plain. But the first beam of the sun sent her shadow before her as they entered the great mound of Nimrod in the temple of the seven spheres. Artiban rode swiftly around the hill and brought Vazda to a halt. Quickly he dismounted and climbed to the highest terrace looking out toward the west. The great desolation of the marches, stretching away to the horizon, was all that met his searching eyes. There was no sign of the caravan of the wise men near or far. He was too late. Dumbly he noticed at the edge of the terrace a little cairn of broken bricks, and under them he found a piece of parchment. We have waited past the midnight and can delay no longer. We go to find the king, follow us across the desert, cross the desert. How can I cross the desert with no food and with a spent horse? I can do but one thing now. Return to Babylon, sell my sapphire with the money by a trade of camels and provisions for the journey. Only God the merciful knows whether I shall not lose sight of the king because I tarried to show mercy. You are listening to our special proudly we hail Christmas program of the otherwise man presented with seasons greetings by your army and your air force. With our star Lee Tracy as narrator, here is the second act. Over the dreary stony waste of the desert, Artiban high on the back of his camel traveled ever westward. Dark ledges of rock thrust themselves above the surface here and there like the bare bones of perished monsters. Mountain ranges arid and desolate. Their flanks thorn covered rose before him. By day the heat was fierce and relentless. By night a bitter chill followed the fever of the day and there was the wind that sobbed and filled the air with biting angry grains of sand. Through heat, cold and wind, Artiban moved steadily onward, leaving the desert behind and came at last to the town of Bethlehem and the land of Judea. He found the street of the little village strangely deserted. Perhaps the man had gone up to the hill pastures to bring down the sheep. Then from the open doorway of a low stone cottage he heard the sound of a woman's voice singing softly. He dismounted and added. Blessings upon this house, good woman. Oh, you startled me. My baby likes to be sung to sleep. You're a stranger to this place. In what way may I serve you? Have you seen art of men like myself from the east? Three days ago they appeared in the village. They said that a star had guided them to the place where Joseph of Nazareth was lodging with his wife a newborn babe. They paid reverence to the child and gave him many rich gifts. And you say you know not where they have gone? The man of Nazareth took the babe and his mother and fled that very same night. It was whispered they were going far away to Egypt. Egypt? Yes. I must follow the king to Egypt. Oh sir, you look weary. Will you not sit and rest? I shall feed you. That is very kind of you, my daughter. What is your name? The name of your babe? I am Ruth, wife of Jeb. And this is Paul, our firstborn. He's fallen asleep without my singing. I'll put him in his cradle. What is it? The songs of the parents. I know my baby. Quickly now. Can't let him cry out. Stay out of sight. I'll keep them from entering. Oh, what have we here? Step aside, tall man. You fill the doorway and I would look within. Aside, I say. I am all alone in this place. I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will lead me in peace. Now, by Jupiter, never have I seen such a ruby as this. And for me. March on. There's no child here. The house is still. God of truth, forgive my sin. I've said a thing that is not to save the life of a child. Two of my gifts are gone. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the king? Thou hast saved the life of my little one. May the Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace. As the wind fans the sands of the desert, as the stream flows strongly toward the sea, so past the days of man upon this earth, quickly fleetingly. Thus it was with Artiban, the Magi. For three and thirty years he sought traces of the household that had come down from Bethlehem to Egypt. Artiban traveled from place to place, searching among the poor and lowly, with whom the little family of Bethlehem might have found refuge. He passed through countries where the bony hand of famine lay heavily on the land. Bread, bread, but a little bread for my child. Here you must take mine. He fed the hungry and clothed the naked and healed the sick and comforted the captive. In all the populous world of anguish, though he found none to worship, he found many to help. And thus it was that three and thirty years of life passed for Artiban. Well, Artiban, have you decided to come with us to the Passover? Yes, Peter, my friend, I shall travel with you to Jerusalem. I have a feeling that, yes, I shall go with you. And so it was that Artiban came to Jerusalem, Jerusalem at the gay festive season of the Passover. The city was thronged with strangers. The children of Israel scattered in far lands had returned to the temple for the great feast. But on the day that Artiban arrived, there seemed to be a strange restlessness visible in the multitude. The sky was black and angry, and a wind rode the narrow teeming street, a wind that played counterpart to the soft thick sounds of thousands of bare feet shuffling over the stones, all headed for the Damascus gate. Where are they all going, Peter? To the place of the skull, I was told, Golgotha. There should be an execution. Two famous robbers are to be crucified, and with them another called Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus of Nazareth. Yes. He told me he has done many strange and wonderful things among the people. They love him greatly, but Pilate has sent him to the cross because the Nazarene has said he is king of the Jews. Now, I must find Miriam Artiban. We shall meet you later at the inn. King of the Jews. How deeply these familiar words fell upon the tired heart of Artiban. They had led him for a lifetime over land and sea, and now they came to him darkly, like a message of despair. The king had risen, but he had been denied and cast out. He was about to perish. Could this be the same who had been born in Bethlehem so long ago? Artiban's heart beat with excitement and hope, and he said within himself, It may be that I shall find the king at last in the hands of his enemies. It may be I shall come in time to offer my pearl for his ransom before he dies. And so, following the multitude with slow and painful steps, Artiban pushed forward. Help! Help! Please, won't someone help me! Let me go! Oh, help, she cried! Hey, you, come back here! Oh, sir, have pity on me! Save me! I also am the daughter of the true religion which is taught by the major. And her overall one. They're going to sell me as a slave! Oh, please, help me! Artiban trembled. It was the same old conflict in his soul. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the worship of religion had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. This was the third trial. The final and irrevocable choice. He took the pearl from his bosom. Here, take this. It is a ransom. The last of my treasures, which I kept for the king. Hey, father, you must crotch down here by this wall. Yes, my child. The earthquake, for earthquake it was, died away as suddenly as it had come. But in that last pulsation a heavy tile fell from a roof and struck Artiban. He lay unmoving with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder. As she bent over him, fearing he was dead, there came a voice through the still, strangely harsh twilight. It was like music sounding from a distance in which the notes are clear, but the words are lost. The girl turned to see if someone had spoken from the window above, but she saw no one, and then Artiban's lips began to move, and she heard him say, Not so, my lord, for when so I thee, and hungered, and bet thee, or thirsty, and gave thee drink, when so I thee, a stranger, took thee in, when so I thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee. Three and thirty years have I looked for thee, but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my king. Verily I say unto thee, in as much as thou hast done it, unto one of the least of these, my brethren, thou hast done it unto me. A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artiban. One long, last breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips. The journey was ended. The otherwise man had found the king. All our fellow Americans, a hearty season's greetings. Here speaking for us is your star, Lee Tracy. I'm mighty proud to be the spokesman for the members of our army and our air force. From all of us to all of you, the merriest of Christmases and the happiest of new years, our wishes and high hopes for the peace and prosperity of the world go with this greeting. You have been listening to the special Christmas program on Proudly We Hail starring Lee Tracy. Featured as Artiban was Joseph DeSantis. The otherwise man was adapted for radio by DeWitt Cup from the original story by Henry Van Dyke, published by Harper and Brothers. The music was composed and conducted by John Guarneri. The program was directed by Charles Wilkes. This is Kenneth Banghart speaking, again wishing you all the heartiest of seasons greetings, and inviting you to be with us again next week at this same time for Proudly We Hail.