 Family Theatre presents Charlie Ruggles, Gale Storm, and Scotty Beckett. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theatre presents Last Run starring Charlie Ruggles and Scotty Beckett. Gale Storm will be your hostess. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we're to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. An hour to our transcribed drama, Last Run starring Charlie Ruggles as Kiefer and Scotty Beckett as Slim. Uncle Joe Kiefer had worked on most of the roads and he knew the names of them all. Far back as you'd want to go, the Charleston and Hamburg, the Baltimore and Ohio, the Tana Wanda, the Chicago Milwaukee St. Paul, San Pedro, Western Pacific, anyone you could think of and a lot you never heard before. Like the, like the Bear Creek Road, the Nashua Line, and the Mark Chunk Railroad, laid way back in 1827. Uncle Joe knew him. They'd been his whole life and now that life was almost over. And for some reason or another, he was taking the blame out on me. Slim Wally, get over the telegraph shack and see if there's any last minute dispatching instructions. I just came from there ten minutes ago, Uncle Joe. There's nothing. Well, that don't mean there ain't nothing coming since. Now get a move on. You ain't a conductor yet, not till I turn in my report on you. Okay, Uncle Joe. And stop calling me Uncle Joe. I ain't your uncle. But that's what everybody else on the road calls you. Nothing less I want them to. Remember, I'm still in charge of this train. I'll go and get over the shack. Okay, Mr. Kiefer. And no stalling around in there. I don't mean to pull out late on my last run. I'll be right back. How you doing, Slim? I'm afraid it's gonna be a rough night. Any late messages from the dispatcher? Nope. You can pull right out on schedule. What's wrong? Uncle Joe acting up. Yeah. I wish someone else would take him his run with him. Well, it ain't your fault they're retiring, Slim. Lord Harry's been with the road 35 years. What does he want? Well, I kind of wish they'd planned a dinner for him or something anyhow. They did. He said he wouldn't go. Said he didn't want any watches or keepsakes or anything. Well, anyway, I just wish tonight were over. Ah, you'll be in Chicago with the sun coming up before you know it. I guess so. Look, Slim, I knew your dad. And let me tell you, Bill Wiley was ever bit as good a railroader as Uncle Joe. You got nothing to worry about. It's in your blood. I told you to hurry, Slim. Right with you, Uncle Joe. We'll shake a leg. We're pulling out. That's how it started. Uncle Joe Keith's last run from Davisburg to Chicago. 278 miles and he knew every foot of the track, every semaphore signal on the way. Davisburg's the only stub terminal not part of the state. After that, it's through stops like Mount Union and Griswold and Cedar Lake. Most of it prairie country, rolling away dark and flat with now and then a cluster of lights at some whistle stop. How we doing on time, Slim? Oh, about two minutes behind, Uncle Joe. We start picking it up once we're out of big rock. You better get up front. We'll be coming into Maple City pretty soon. Maple City. I remember my dad, Bill Wiley, telling me about the night the switch jammed outside of Maple City. That night, Uncle Joe was on the southbound run. It was about three in the morning and he was sitting back in the smoker when one of the breakmen found him. Uncle Joe? Uncle Joe? Yeah, yeah, what's wrong? We went through an open switch just above Maple. It put us on the through track. Doesn't the engineer know about it? It looked like he does. We're traveling wide open. He must have missed the signal. There wouldn't be any signal. The switch went wrong. What are we going to do? The limit is on this track. It's due through here. Yeah, I know, I know. Yank that air brake then start back through the cars and get everybody out. Uncle Joe, where are you going? Up forward. We've got to get out in front of this train and flag down that limit. I better just stop this. What's going on here? The switch at Maple Jam. You're on the through track. The through track? Yeah, look over there at the river. We're running west of it. Holy smoke. Listen, that's the limit. Maybe they'll see us. My engine lights on. Not the way the grade curves up here. They won't see that light until they're on top of us. They're getting closer every minute. We can't do anything now but get out of here. No, if we can hear their whistle, they ought to be able to hear ours and I get up to your cab and yank that whistle cord and keep it wide open till the last minute. There's a flare as you wanted, Uncle Joe. Joe, what are you going to do? I'm going up the track around the bend. They'll never see those flares in time. They'll run you down. Not if you get your own whistle going. Now hop to it. Okay, Joe. Good luck. Come on, come on. Bring those flares and sink them into the road bed where it did it. On the left of the track. All right, another there. Over on the right. Come on, come on. They're getting closer. I can see the glare of their engine light, Uncle Joe. There goes our whistle. They'll hear it. I know, but, Uncle Joe, they don't hear us. They go to the brakes. They heard it. They heard it. They saw the flare. They're snuffin'. Maple City, Maple City. Slim, what are you standing there dreaming about? What? Oh, I'm sorry, Uncle Joe. I was just remembering what, what Dad told me about the time you headed off the wreck outside of town here. Oh, yeah, yeah. Well, that was a long time ago, boy. Blame few folks remember that. Well, Dad told me there was over 200 people on the limited that night. You'd think some of them would remember. No, Slim, people forget. They get old and they forget. You better get down on the steps and swing the light. Looks like we ain't taking anyone on. Okay. And call it out, boy. Call it out clear and loud. Okay, Uncle Joe. All aboard. That's the way, Bill. That's the way to call it out. He called me Bill, my Dad's name. Maybe hanging out from the steps swinging the light, I reminded him of my Dad, Bill Wiley. He and Uncle Joe worked this run before I was born, even before my mom and dad knew each other. And just like with me, Uncle Joe broke Bill Wiley in as a conductor. They used to sit up in the baggage car after all the passengers were asleep and play checkers, using a signal light to see by. Most of the time just the two of them played, but one night, a stranger got into the game. You know, you know, you can junk me, Bill. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Uncle Joe? Well, it ain't the case, Bill Wiley. Would I like it or not? You got it. Well, now let's just see. No, there's no seeing about it. Oh, who's there? Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm looking for the observation car. I'm afraid you're at the wrong end of the train, sir. This is the baggage coach. Who is it, Bill? My back's to him. I can't tell. He's just one of the passengers. I hope I'm not intruding. I felt like stretching my legs a bit. Well, you're welcome to do it here in the baggage coach, if you like. Checkers? Mm-hmm. And look over my shoulder. All you want, mister, but don't kibbitz. Uncle Joe, it's... It's all right, young man. I won't kibbitz. Yeah, go ahead, Bill. It's your move. Well, let's see. No, you've got to junk me. All right. I... There. What's the matter with you? I've got the red ones. If you're going to move, move one of your own men. Oh, excuse me, Uncle Joe. I'll put it back. All right. Let's see. Young man, I think your opponent feels that you should have jumped this man of his, if you don't mind, sir. No, no, not at all, mister. That's just what I've been telling him he had to do. Well, okay, if you both think so. I didn't mean to kibbitz, mister. Kiefer, no apology needed. Glad you were here to prove me right. Okay, Uncle Joe. There. Well, get ready, Billy boy. This is going to cost you something. There. And there. Well, two for one. You play a hard game, Uncle Joe. Now, let's see. I could move this one. Oh, well, let's see. How about that king, young man? Say, I never even noticed that. Mister, I said you could watch over my shoulder, but not if you kibbitz. You let him kibbitz on my last move, Uncle Joe, when it helped you. Well, that was different. You had to jump. I don't mean to cause any trouble. Perhaps I'd better withdraw the suggestion. Good enough. And I'll thank you not to make any move. Uncle Joe. It's getting late, I'm afraid. Thank you for your company. Good night, sir. What are you getting up for, Bill? Good night, Mr. Kiefer. Night, young man. Night, mister. Bill, sit down. Good night, Mr. College. What did you call him? Uncle Joe, you just insulted the ex-president of the United States. Go on. You did. Holy cats. We're coming into Colderville. You better write him a letter of apology. Colderville? Yeah, but what can I say? Well, one thing you better say is that you voted Republican in the last election. Holy smoke. Come on, we're pulling in. I'll help you with the letter when we get home tonight. Colderville used to be a regular stop, Uncle Joe. Huh? Yeah, but how's that slim? I said, didn't Colderville used to be a regular stop? Oh, 20 years ago, yes. Now we just hook their mail and shoot right through. See, did your dad ever tell you about the time Cal Coolidge honed in on our checker game when we were pulling in here one night? Well, yeah. It's funny you'd bring that up. I was just thinking about it. Was it, was it really, Mr. Coolidge? Well, Bill always said it was. I don't know. I had my back to him all the time. Whatever happened to Colderville, Uncle Joe, it used to be a pretty big town, didn't it? Well, not really big. It was a cold town, stripped mines. Just gradually paid itself out, I guess. Did the, did the flood have anything to do with it? The flood? No, no, no. The town's hardest hit, but the flood were north of here. Places like Big Rock and Hampton Springs. Hampton Springs. I'd heard all about that place. Mom had told me a long time after everything was over. The flood, the washout, everything. The rains had started late in March that year and once they got going it looked like they were going to be coming down forever. In less than two weeks the river was in flood and it began to seem as if nothing south of Big Rock was going to be spared. People started getting out any way they could. The railroad was still running out of Hampton, seven miles from Big Rock, but it was right in the path of the flood. The last run out of Hampton was scheduled for seven o'clock that night and as usual, Uncle Joe and my dad were working it together. All right, all right, folks. Now just be patient. We'll get everybody aboard who wants to go, but you've got to keep order. We can't do anything. Bill. Oh, Bill. Oh, yeah, Uncle Joe. One of the breakmen just told me they heard the flood wall that broke through north of town. I know. I was just up there. It's come through in about four different places. If we wait much longer, we aren't going to be able to get this train out of here. Yeah, I'm half tempted to back out of town and stay right on the spur. It'll we get to summit. It won't do any good, Uncle Joe. Anywhere we move south, the flood will be right behind us. The only sure way out of here is to make the loop north. Yeah, but, Bill, you said the wall had broken up there. It started to, but if we hurry, we can still beat the water to the north track out of town. All right, all right. We'll try it. Come on, folks. Let's get aboard. We're pulling out in five minutes. Looks like we're going to make it, Uncle Joe. Yeah, well, don't start crowing yet, Billie. We still got that low trestle to cross the edge of town. We ought to be going faster. We're going fast. Is it safe, too? The water's up even with our hubs already as it is. You just let it start splashing into the fire boxes up front. We ain't going to be moving at all. Well, I guess our troubles are over. There comes your trestle, and it looks fine to me. And there's water up to it. Another 15 minutes, it ain't going to look so fine. Uncle Joe, look on the trestle. Isn't that someone standing down by the far end? Well, yeah. It's a kid. It's a young girl. But what's she doing out there? Well, like us, I guess, want to get out of the flood. And why doesn't she walk the rest of the way across the trestle? Beats me. Hey, look, she's waving. She sees us coming. Uncle Joe, she's pointing to her foot. That's why she hasn't walked off. She can't. Her foot must be caught in something. Well, anyhow, she's off to the side of the track. We won't run her down. Uncle Joe, I'm going up forward as far as I can. Maybe I can get off and pull her loose. But how are you going to get back on the train? We can't stop for you the way this water's right. You won't have to. Have someone standing on the steps of each car as they come past. I'll swing her aboard one of them and jump on behind her. Well, Bill, Bill, be careful. All right, Jim, you heard what he said. Now, get forward to the next car and down on the steps, and have Charlie do the same thing in the car ahead of you. My dad, Bill Wiley, had run back through the cars all the way to the baggage coach before the train pulled onto that trestle. He slid open the big loading door and sat down, letting his legs dangle out over the cross-ties underneath him. I know that's exactly what he did because afterward, whenever Mom wasn't around, I got Uncle Joe to tell me how it happened. The baggage car's almost up to her, Uncle Joe. Jim, I told you to get down on the steps of the car ahead. There's already two men on the steps of every car, but this one, I thought you might want some help, so... Yeah, look, look, he jumped off. He's on the trestle. He's got her. But why don't he pull her loose? There goes the first car past him already. He'll get her out. Look, he's waving at the boys on the steps. He ain't worried. Well, I am. He ain't got but two cars left. If he don't get her on the next room, we got to take him both back here. She's loose. He pulled her free. It's going to be all right. Put her on, Bill. Put her on. They couldn't reach him. They couldn't reach him. All right, then, Jim, it's up to us now. We got to get him both. You stand in front of me on the steps here. You take the little girl. Uncle Joe! Yeah, we'll get you, Billy. And the girl to Jim, then I'll grab you around. My uncle's caught, Uncle Joe. Yeah, here they come. Grab the girl, Jimmy. I got her. Billy, grab her. Hang on. I can pull you free. No, no, let me go. You can't do it, Uncle Joe. Keep a hold. No, no, let go. Look out, Uncle Joe. You'll fall off yourself. Billy! Billy! Billy! He let go. We got to go back from him. We got to go back. The water's rising. We got to get him off there. We can't go back, Uncle Joe. It's too late, too late. It's too late, Slim. Huh? What did you say, Uncle Joe? I say it's too late. Never fails. Unless we pull out of Martinsville before 20, we never make Chicago on schedule. You remember that. I will, Uncle Joe. You got to pick it up between Big Rock and Martinsville, or else you're late. I'm sorry you're not going to be coming in on schedule, especially this morning, Uncle Joe. Oh, well, I don't suppose it'll turn the world upside down, Slim. Yeah, that's what your dad used to say when I'd fret too much about the schedule. I guess you felt pretty bad. The night dad was drowning in the flood at Hampton. Well, everyone on the road felt bad and proud of him as they were, and they kept on feeling bad for a long time after. Is that why mom didn't want me to be a railroader, Uncle Joe? On account of what happened to dad? Well, that, I guess, as much as anything else. Well, you are one now, and in a few minutes, we'll pull into the Chicago station and it'll be all over. You'll be a full-fledged conductor, and I'll be a retired one. Well, don't you kind of wish you'd let the road give you some sort of a send-off? I mean like a, well, a farewell dinner or something, Uncle Joe. Well, now that you've pinned me down, sure, Slim, I suppose I'd have liked that, but I don't have many friends left on the road, and most of them are dead or living in some other part of the country. I'm afraid there's blamed few folks alive who remember Uncle Joe Kiefer. So it'd be a pretty small dinner when we'll put that down. Looks like we're pulling in, Uncle Joe. Yep. Well, this is the last time we'll ever get to do it. Might as well call out the station. Go ahead, Uncle Joe, and make it loud and clear. Chicago, next stop. Chicago, next stop. Chicago. Uncle Joe walked off through the cars, calling off the station. He didn't seem to notice how empty the train was, but most of the regular passengers who made the run weren't even aboard. In fact, he didn't notice anything until the train had pulled to a stop and he started down the stairs of the last passenger coach to the platform. Slim, what's going on here? What's this crowd for? It's for you, Uncle Joe. They came down to greet you. Yeah, but who are they? Friends of yours. Hey, look, there's Mr. Barrett coming through the crowd. Mr. Barrett? You mean the president of the road? He wasn't president when you first met him. Congratulations, Uncle Joe. We're proud of you. Well, but Mr. Barrett, I don't know what this is all about. Well, you knew what it was all about that night outside of Maple City when you had me seeking flares into the roadbed. What? Were you? I was the breakman on that ride. Lord have mercy. My, my. I wondered, but it became a you. I never even learned your name. Well, I learned yours, Uncle Joe, and so did all these folks on the platform. They've been passengers on this run of yours for, well, some of them for as long as you have. My, my, my gosh. Slim, I wish your mother and dad could have lived to see this. They're watching, Uncle Joe. Hey, the folks have, well, folks are hardly know what to say. I guess one of the reasons I didn't want any fuss about my retiring from the road was, well, because there wouldn't be anyone with the name of Kiefer to carry on after me. I never had a son, but I had a daughter, and she married a railroader you'd all remember, Bill Wiley. Oh, Uncle Joe, don't, don't. I told you once before, Slim, stop calling me Uncle Joe. I ain't your uncle. Hmm, I'm your granddad, and don't you forget it. So all you folks remember when you're taking the run from Davisburg to Chicago, the name of your conductor is William Kiefer Wiley, better known as Slim. So you do what he tells you, understand, or I'll come out in retirement and you'll wish I hadn't. Uncle Joe, you told everyone you didn't want a dinner given in your honor, so we didn't plan one. Well, I can't blame you for that, Mr. Barry. We planned a breakfast instead. A breakfast right now? A scrambled eggs, pork sausage, fried potatoes, and a gold watch. Well, well, I'm awful glad about the watch, Mr. Barry. You see, I was afraid they'd really believe me when I said I didn't want that. And now your hostess, Gail Storm. It has surely occurred to you that one of the supreme benefits which radio is brought to all of us has been a greater realization of the relation between the prevention and the cure of the more disastrous diseases which can afflict the body. It has been the medium whereby hundreds of thousands of people now know the symptoms of cancer, polio, tuberculosis, and heart troubles, the notorious killers. They're put on their guard against these killers, and the proverbs about being forearmed by being forewarned takes on a new aspect of truth. Well, I know that some serious and honest people are often inclined to believe that all the store mornings about these diseases may possibly make some people jittery and over fearful. The talk of dangers simply multiply the number of fears a person has to deal with. But all in all, most of us know that the great source of fear is the unknown, not the known, and that the more we know of the nature and strategy and tactics of an anemia or disease, the less morbid our fears become. Out of knowledge comes remedies and prevention strategy. It is the same with the diseases and maladies that can afflict the modern family. Family well-being, like personal physical health, is maintained in the very first place by forestalling what is dangerous to its unity and peace and its harmonious growth. Family theater, therefore, uses the wonderful medium of radio to emphasize the place of prayer in the family. Family prayer is the first and most important bulwark against all the personal and social forces which are enemies of the family because it relates the family to God and what ultimate power has any human set of forces against God's power. That's why we say with confidence that the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood, family theater has brought you last run starring Charlie Ruggles and Scotty Beckett. Gail Storm was your hostess. Others in our cast were Howard Culver, Howard McNeer, Billy Borkham, Dave Young, and Jack Hickey. The script was written by John T. Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed and transcribed for family theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This series of family theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our family theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony Lafranco expressing the wish of family theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when family theater will present the daughter-in-law starring Ricardo Montalban, Audrey Dalton, and Una Merkel. Join us, won't you? Family theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is the Mutual Broad Testing System.