 Joan of Arc was not proclaimed a saint for more than 400 years after her death. A man amasses a portion through the purchase of worthless currency. Can you imagine that? This is Lindsey McCurry once more friends, and I'm back with you on this station to give you more odd facts, strange happenings, and out of the ordinary news stories. We'll all return in just one and a half minutes with the first one, so leave your dial turned right there. Will you please? Thank you. Gus Hildebrand and Fred Schmidt of Northwood, Iowa. Gus and Fred were driving along in their car over a snow-covered road. The snow made it rather rough going, and then suddenly their car skidded and turned over. Gus, you hurt? No, I guess I'm all right. You? Yeah. What's that close? Hey, you two fellas all right? Yeah, we're okay. Yeah. Boy, you're sure lucky. That snow's bad stuff. Mister, don't say anything at all against that snow. In the backseat of this car are 200 pounds of dynamite and 100 dynamite caps. The snow may have turned us over, but it cushioned that dynamite and kept it from blowing us to kingdom come. Yes, sir, Fred Schmidt and Gus Hildebrand turned over in their car because of the heavy snow in an accident that might have killed them. Yet, the same snow saved their lives. Can you imagine that? Of course, you know who the patron saint of France is. Indeed, it's that intrepid warrior made of olia, Jean Dark, Joan of Arc. But just how long would you guess Joan of Arc has been Saint Joan? Go ahead, just make a guess. 100 years, 200? Well, it may sound strange to you, but Joan of Arc, who lived during the 15th century and was burned at the stake on May 30th in the year 1431, was not made a saint until she was canonized by Pope Benedict the 15th in the year 1920, almost 500 years after her death. Can you imagine that? Fortune comes to him who seeks it. There is an old saying that the school books will throw at you to prove that success is one-tenth inspiration and nine-tenth perspiration. But never was that saying more discredited than in the case of Timothy Dexter. His amazing run of fortune probably qualifies him as the world's luckiest man. Why? Well, listen to his amazing story. It was just after the American Revolution that Timothy Dexter, a Massachusetts native, went about the shops of Boston doing this. What can I do for you? My name is Timothy Dexter. I would like to know if you have any continental money. Do I have any? Mr. Dexter, I have more than I want. I have drawers full of that worthless dirty paper. Very well. I'm willing to buy all you have. And another thing. What? You want to buy that worthless stuff? Yes, all you've got. I'll pay you in guineas, shillings, Spanish pieces of aid, or whatever you choose. So Timothy Dexter went about buying worthless continental paper money. Worthless because the newly formed United States of America had no financial credit abroad. People called Timothy Dexter a crazy man, and it looked as though he were. Then something happened. A man named Alexander Hamilton did amazing things about the credit of the United States. And the people found themselves natives of a country with sound financial institutions. And Timothy Dexter, on a crazy man's hunch, became wealthy. But you'll say that wasn't luck. Timothy Dexter was shrewd. Ah, yes, but his story isn't finished yet. Determined to continue in business, Mr. Dexter bought a huge consignment of warming pans, those long-handled copper affairs with perforated tops, which were placed in bed to take off the bitter chill. Dexter bought them and sought out a ship's captain. Captain, I want you to take a cargo to the West Indies for me. All right, Mr. Dexter, and what might the cargo be? Warming pans. Warming pans? Oh, now look, sir, a joke's a joke. But warming pans in the West Indies, something beyond a joke. Why, I might just as well send them to the Hades for all the use they'd be. The West Indies are tropical. People don't even use covers on their bed, much less warming pans. Nevertheless, I want you to take them to the West Indies. Now, over everyone's objections, the warming pans went to the West Indies. A strange cargo for the tropics. People looked at Dexter and then tapped their heads with significant gestures. But listen now to a West Indie sugar planter. See, see, these things are just what I need. You see, senor, when we boil a sugar to get molasses, we must have long-handled pans to dip out the molasses. And the tops of the pans with the holes in are just the right for straining. Can you imagine that? The West Indies planters used the warming pans for bailing molasses out of the kettles. And once more, Timothy Dexter realized a huge profit on a harebrained venture. Shrewd again, you say? Well, now listen to this. No, Timothy Dexter's nightmarish story isn't over yet. For while he was engaged in building a ship, he overheard the captain say that the vessel needed stay stuff. Timothy immediately misunderstood the term and thinking the captain meant the same sort of stays that went into, of all things, women's corsets. Mr. Dexter went out and bought all a whalebone he could find. Historians were glutted with whalebone while all of Massachusetts laughed at the Dexter's fantastic mistake. But it wasn't long before... But I tell you, sir, there isn't a piece of whalebone to be had. And with this new style for women coming in, the corsets must be lined with whalebone. You get it, we've got to have it. A man named Timothy Dexter bought a huge lot for some outlandish purpose. He'll charge a stiff price, sir. All right, all right, we'll charge a stiff price for the corsets. But get that whalebone! Once more, Timothy Dexter's amazing luck propelled him into the lap of smiling fortune. But still, he went on and on. His next venture was a shipment of cats, bibles, and woollen mittens to the West Indies. The West Indies again. What possible use could there be for cats, bibles, and woollen mittens? That merchant showed her pearly teeth again. A plague of rats infested the West Indian warehouses so the cats were bought. A religious revival swept the West Indies and the last Bible was sold at a profit. Then, to crown this lopsided adventure, a Danish merchant who just happened to be at a West Indian port thought the woollen mittens just the things for those cold Baltic knights. And he purchased the entire shipment. Can you imagine that? By this time, Timothy Dexter was a merchant prince. He was dubbed Lord Timothy of the West Indies. Now for the staggering finish to Lord Timothy's mercantile adventures. Carrying coals to Newcastle had always been a phrase denoting the utmost in folly. For Newcastle was the great British port out of which went great quantities of coal. But Timothy didn't care about that. Instead, he purchased coal and said, Captain, I want you to take this cargo of coal to Newcastle. Oh, and I'll just a moment, Mr. Dexter. I carried warm and pans, mittens, of the Bibles of the West Indies. Maybe that was all right, must have been, because you sold it a profit. But carrying coal to Newcastle, why, why, why, sir, that's insane. The coal will go to Newcastle. The stunned captain had no choice but to obey. The cargo was loaded and the vessel sailed out with the absurd cargo. Finally, it put into Newcastle harbor and once there... Captain, oh, Captain. Yes, I understand that you have a cargo of coal aboard this ship. If you think you're going to make fun of me, you've got another thing coming. This cargo's no fair of mine. I'm just carrying out orders. I'm not the crazy one. My dear Captain, no one said anything about anyone being crazy. I want to buy that coal. You want to buy the coal? I'm a coal merchant. You've got coal here. Of course we've got coal. But there is labor trouble at present and we can't get men to get the coal out. We need it and I'm willing to pay your employer and tell the city that this ship it and its cargo needed but the board of海 corresponded and the vessel cried for it but the coach, Timothy Dexter, carried coals to Newcastle and sold them. The labor trouble developed while Dexter's vessel was still on the high sea so he could have known nothing of the strike in Newcastle. But the fact remains that Timothy Dexter child of fortune upon whom Lady Luck showered wealth and plenty started by we're once again going to give you the chance to test your musical wits, that is we're going to play a part of a number and then have you try to detect which other number resembles it. This time of all things we're going to throw how dry I am at you. During the dry days of the 1920-1932 era, even automobile horns were equipped with the mournful cry of how dry I am. It was used by theater orchestras, singers, pianists for comedy touches. But I wonder if any of those who played or sang a detective resemblance to a selection from one of the most famous of all light operas. See if you can put your finger on the selection after you hear how dry I am. Ready? Here goes. Now listen to the same melody as a waltz. The melody of how dry I am becomes the beloved Mary widow waltz when played in three, four tempo. Can you imagine that? Now listen to our presentation of that grand old song from Franz Leihar's most noted opera. Well, whether Franz Leihar caught his melody from how dry I am or whether how dry I am was taken from the score of the Mary widow doesn't really matter. The melody is still as lillting and lovable today as it was when it was first presented more than 35 years ago. And now comes the time for me to turn you back to your own station announcer and until we get together again for another session of can you imagine that? This is Lindsay McCarrie saying goodbye now.