A man earns two million dollars an hour.
Two famous authors engage in a public fight.
A noted man gets a warm place by the fire through a half a pack of oysters.
Can you imagine that?
This is Lindsay McCarrie once more, ladies and gentlemen, introducing another session
of this series of broadcasts in which we try to dramatize for you some of the more surprising
incidents and facts of the world.
We'll return in just a moment with the first one.
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And
here's our first item. Sometimes we gasp at the fortunes made and lost overnight in a
furious buy and sell flurry in the stock market. But did you ever hear of anyone earning two
million dollars an hour? Yes, I said two million dollars an hour. It staggers the imagination
to think of what that might amount to in a year or even a month. Just give me one day
like that and I'd be willing to let the rest of the world go by. In fact, I'd buy a few
things I've always been wanting. But here's the proof of that amazing statement. Vance
Breeze, famous test pilot, once took a plane up for a test dive. He took the ship up to
20,000 feet and dived within 4,000 feet to the ground. The dive took up 15 seconds for
which Vance Breeze was paid 8,000 dollars. If you're mathematically inclined, expand
those 15 seconds into a minute, which gives you 32,000 dollars. Multiply by 60 and you
reach the staggering total of nearly two million dollars per hour. Can you imagine that? You
know it occurs quite often that two famous men will engage in a feud of words over some
bitterly contested difference. But it seldom happens that any two great men will come to
a physical encounter. It did happen on one Thursday evening in 1931, March 29 to be exact,
within the heavily draped and thickly carpeted walls of the Metropolitan Club in New York
City. On that night, Mr. Ray Long, editor of the Cosmopolitan Magazine, was entertaining
at a banquet in honor of the Russian writer, Mr. Boris Pilnyak. Among those attending were
such noble names of letters as Mr. Irvin S. Cobb, Mr. Haywood Brune, Mr. Arthur Brisbane,
Mr. Rupert Hughes, Mr. Theodore Dreiser, and Mr. Sinclair Lewis, as well as a rather imposing
array of American literary critics. After cigars had been passed and lighted, and as
the men of the fourth estate sat chatting over their demitasse, their host, Mr. Ray
Long, arose and tapped on his glass.
Gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen, it is our pleasure this evening to welcome to the metropolis
and to America a colleague from across the sea, a man of letters who has come to visit
our land from the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics, a man whose fame has long preceded
his actual presence among us, Boris Pilnyak. I'm going to assume the privilege of calling
upon several of you to welcome this fellow penman in your own way. First, I know you'll
be glad to hear a word or two from a gentleman recently from Minnesota, but more recently,
winner of the coveted Nobel Prize for Literature, Mr. Sinclair Lewis.
Mr. Long, gentlemen, I'm very happy to meet Mr. Pilnyak, but I do not care to speak in
the presence of a man who has plagiarized 3,000 words from my wife's book on Russia,
nor do I care to talk before two sage critics who objected to the Nobel Committee's selection
of me as America's representative writer.
Thank you, Mr. Lewis. Now I'm sure we'll all be glad to hear a few words from that Dean
of American Humorists, Mr. Irvin S. Carr.
Thank you, Mr. Long. I don't know whether I'm Dean or not, but one thing I'm certain
of is that right now I'd rather be Dean than President. Well, I suppose you'll expect the
story about the old days down in Paducah.
Wisely calling upon sure fire Irvin Cobb, Long saved the situation momentarily. Following
Cobb, others paid just tribute to the guest of honor, and at last the banquet adjourned.
As small groups gathered to discuss the speeches, two newspaper men assigned to cover the event
stood by one of the doors.
Hey, what did Lewis mean by the one man who has plagiarized his wife's book on Russia?
Don't you know? Theodore Dreiser.
Why?
Sure, you remember? Dreiser... Hey, hey, look.
What's the matter?
There they are. Lewis and Dreiser sitting at that table talking.
Yeah, man, and how they're talking. Come on, come on, let's get up a little closer.
Dreiser, you're a liar and a cheat.
For the love of Mike, Dreiser slapping Lewis in the face.
Yes, friends, truly indeed did Mr. Lewis, Nobel Prize winner, author of Main Street,
Babbitt and Aerosmith, receive several resounding smacks upon his countenance from the ample
palm of portly Mr. Dreiser, Nobel Prize runner-up, author of An American Tragedy, The Genius,
and The Hand of the Potter until the latter was restrained by fellow writers.
The next day remarked Mr. Lewis.
Dreiser's a pretty big fellow. He must weigh close to 200 pounds.
I'll bet he could have put up a good scrap if they'd let us go. Still, he's pretty old.
Must be 60.
You know, he was an established editor in New York when I was just a kid trying to get
along. The incident, however, is closed as far as I'm concerned. Can't two men have a
private squabble without all this fuss being made over it?
Then after some difficulty, Theodore Dreiser was located at his apartment on 57th Avenue.
He made the succinct comment.
It was the proper retort to any insult.
And thus did 1931 witness the amazing progress of Barrett between two of America's leading
writers. Can you imagine that?
God helps those who help themselves.
And that's a saying that's well enough known to everyone, but here's a case where it was
put to practical use by the famous American statesman, Benjamin Franklin. It's one of
those human interest stories that take the varnish and veneer of legend away from our
national heroes and make them just plain human beings like ourselves.
It seems that Benjamin Franklin was traveling one night in bitterly cold weather. He reigned
his horse up in front of a cozy looking tavern and one of the hostels ran up to meet him.
Good evening, sir. It's a bit of cold tonight.
Yes, it is. But I suppose I'll be able to thaw the ice from my bones in your tavern
here. Looks cozy enough.
Well, I don't know, sir. A lot of others had the same idea. A few of the townsmen are
toasting themselves in front of the fire. They save wood in their own homes.
And no place by the fire for a frozen traveler?
None at all, sir. But you can try. I'll take your horse to the stable, sir.
Thank you. Thank you.
Well, good evening, sir. Good evening. It's a bit of cold out there.
Yes. But cozy in here. Warm. With a cheery fire.
Well, I always manage to keep a blaze going, sir. Even with times as hard as they are.
I suppose I couldn't find a place by the fire.
Well, no, sir. I... The places are all taken.
Well, no matter. But, landlord, you may take a half pack of oysters out for my horse.
A half pack of oysters? For your horse?
A half pack of oysters for my horse.
Very good, sir. And, landlord?
Yes, sir? On the shell.
On the shell? For a horse?
Bless my soul. I'll get them right away, sir.
Why do you say shell for a horse? I'm going out to see the horse eat them.
I see that.
Ah. A seat by the fire. Nothing like it on a cold night.
So Franklin seated himself comfortably in one of the vacated chairs by the fire.
But it wasn't long before...
I beg your pardon, sir. I beg your pardon. But your horse won't eat the oysters.
Oh, won't he? Well, no matter now. Just bring them in here and I'll eat them myself.
And so Benjamin Franklin, the humorist and statesman, got himself a warm place by the
fire with no fuss, no bother. Can you imagine that?
Comes time now for another of our Can You Imagine That musical oddities.
We all like to play detective and now we're going to give you your chance to do a little
melodic snooping.
If you ferret out the clues, you can award yourself a bright badge and a diploma complete
with fingerprint outfit.
First, let's listen to a composition of the immortal Frédéric Chopin, whose delicate
musical traceries have left him undying fame.
While you're listening to it, try to figure out what popular tune of pre-war days sounds
very, very much like it.
Are you ready? Then listen to Chopin's Fantasy Impromptu in C-sharp minor.
Did you catch it? Well, we're not going to give you another chance on the Fantasy Impromptu,
but here's the popular tune of pre-war days. We're sure you'll recognize the melody, but
if you don't, the lyrics will tell you all about it.
Listen.
I'm always chasing rainbows, watching clouds drifting by.
My schemes are just like all my dreams, standing in the sky.
Some fellows look and find the sunshine.
I always look and find the way.
Some fellows make a winning sometime.
I never even make a gain.
Believe me, I'm always chasing rainbows,
waiting to find a little bluebird in there.
Believe me, I'm always chasing rainbows,
waiting to find a little bluebird in there.
And there it is, the closing item on another session of Can You Imagine That? But we'll
be back with you soon on this same station, and we most heartily invite you to be with
us at that time.
Until then, this is Lindsay McHarris saying goodbye now.
Thank you.