Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1950)

addition to Ollie's parents and the guests at their lodge, a bunch of pretty young girls from the barn theater came across the ridge to see our show. They made quite a fuss over all of us, applauding Ollie as the local boy who made good in the big city, and inviting Colonel Cracky to be guest director for their next week's performance. Maybe that was what did it. Or maybe it was because some one giggled when Madame Ooglepus missed a high note in the middle of one of her favorite arias. Whatever it was, it brought on an attack of temperament. Honestly, I didn't realize there was a thing wrong until the end of the last act. Just as I was giving the signal for the curtain to close, Fletcher Rabbit came lippitylopping up the aisle carrying a bunch of flowers. Special delivery for Madame Ooglepus," he announced. "She said I'm not supposed to tell where they came from." In a stage whisper, he added. "It's a sort of secret romance." Madame had quite a time grasping the flowers as she leaned over the footlights, for they weren't tied together with ribbon or anything, and again someone snickered. She just glared. She wouldn't stay to have ice cream and cake out on the lawn, either. Nose in air, she bustled right past, and I thought I heard her murmur something about, "Limousine waiting . . . party at big estate . . . charming gentleman of wealth and culture . . ." She still had part of the bouquet tucked in her hair when, the next morning, she joined the rest of us at the dock. Fran glanced at the flowers and remarked that blue always looked so nice with auburn hair. That might have pacified Madame if Ollie hadn't run up exclaiming, "Guess what — we must have had a vandal in the audience last night. My mother's delphinium bed is stripped of every single flower!" Fletcher's ears turned bright pink. "Goodness gracious, Ollie, all I did . . ." Madame cut him short. "Fletcher! A secret is a secret. I didn't expect that from you." Fletcher became suddenly busy helping Cecil Bill with the canoe. Considering themselves old salts, they had decided to paddle to the picnic grounds rather than cross in the launch with us. The weather was perfect and so was our picnic spot. Oscar, the boatman, landed us on a lovely sandy beach, protected on two sides by great outcroppings of rock which jutted into the water to form a little bay. He helped us set on shore our hampers, blankets, bathing suits and phonograph, then called, "Be back for you after dark," and zoomed across the lake. Buelah Witch took charge. "Let's play games, everybody. Have to work up a good appetite for dinner." Fletcher teamed with Colonel Cracky to win the three-legged race. Mercedes' side won the tug o' war. Burr beat Fran when it came to running while carrying an egg in a teaspoon. We were all starving by the time Cecil Bill shouted, "Tooie, tooie, tooit" and rang the dinner bell. He had spread the red and white R checked table cloth over a big flat rock m and on it had set everything you could ever want for a picnic. There were baked beans, potato salad, sandwiches, 76 Kukla, Fran and Ollie (Continued from page 27) three kinds of pickles and a big jug of lemonade. To top it all, Burr had driven to the village for ice cream and Fran had whipped up a delicious chocolate cake. After that, we were quite content to stretch out and be lazy. Fran asked, "Have you decided yet what to do with the rest of your vacation, Kukla?" I nodded. "I'll spend part of it visiting all of our television stations, but right now, Burr Tillstrom and I are going to Nantucket. Fran, can't you come to Nantucket for a few days?" Before she could answer Ollie harrumped for attention. "I have an announcement. Much as I should like to remain here with my parents, I find that my duty to my public comes first." When he takes that attitude, we know something is coming. "I have been told by outstanding critics that the ballad "Thar She Blows" is the best in my repertoire. However, the whaling pageant which accompanies it could stand revision. Since Nantucket was once the greatest whaling port in the world, I have decided to do personal research on the spot. I shall peruse the documents of the Historical Association and visit the Whaling Museum. This summer, I shall be Ollie, the Scholar." Fran said, "That's fine. So unselfish of you, Ollie." While we were talking, the other Kuklapolitans had gone about their own interests. Fletcher, hoe in hand, was searching for new botanical specimens. Cecil Bill, carrying his fishing tackle, was working his way down the lake, trying his luck. Colonel Cracky was snoozing under a tree. Madame Ooglepus apparently had calmed down, for she was discussing Fall fashions with Buelah Witch. It was Mercedes who broke up this pleasant scene. Wading at the edge of the lake, she had been too well behaved for it to last. I heard a sloshing noise and looked around just in time to see her sneaking up on the sleeping Colonel, carrying a sprinkling can. Madame Ooglepus sprang into action. "You nasty child," she sputtered. Mercedes whined, "I didn't do anything. Did I, Kukla?" I had to agree with her. She really hadn't — yet. The Colonel sat up and rubbed his eyes. I thought I heard Madame muttering to herself. "Serves him right. That's what he gets for encouraging these young girls." However, I could have been wrong, for suddenly she was arch and coy. "Colonel Cracky," she said sweetly, "I fear we are not making the most of this beautiful setting. There's the lake and there's a canoe. Since we can't go to Venice, I think it would be delightful to glide over the water, trailing my finger tips across its glistening surface." Said the Colonel, "Unaccustomed as I am to the role of gondolier . . ." Said Madame, "Nonsense. Anyone can operate a canoe. Come along." The rest of us wandered off. I scrambled to the lonely side of a rock and brought out paper and pencil to try to start the book I intend to write this summer, but I didn't get very far. It was too nice a day to work, so I just loafed until Ollie got ambitious and called to help him gather wood for our campfire. We were foraging around when we heard the most awful sounds coming from a distance. First there was a screech and then a bellow. "What's that?" Ollie cocked his head. "It's coming from Echo Gorge." "Some one must be in great distress. We must help them." I shouted for the rest of the company. And from all sides they came running, asking, "What is it? What's happened?" Worried, I counted noses. As I feared, the Colonel and Madame Ooglepus were missing. So was Cecil Bill. Ollie looked serious. After all, he knows Dragon Retreat better than any of us. "Echo Gorge is dangerous," he said. "Mother always warned me to stay out of there. That's where the great granite cliffs narrow the lake to a river, and it spills down over Fisherman's Falls to the valley below." Said Buelah, "Just a moment, kids, while I look over the situation." Seizing the light rope which had been tied around the hampers, she lassoed it over a pinnacle of rock and pulled herself up the sheer face of the huge boulder in true mountain climber style. From this observation point, she called down to us, "You're right. It's Colonel Cracky and that silly woman. She would get him out in that canoe. It's riding low in the water — at her end of the canoe, of course." My heart going pittypat, I shouted back, "Buelah, what's happening?" She peered out. "Looks like the current's got them, but don't worry. Nothing could happen to her. Now the canoe's caught again. Looks like the Colonel's working to get it loose." Ollie quivered. "If he does, they'll go straight over the Falls. We've got to do something!" Burr kicked off his beach shoes. "I'm going after them." With a long surface dive, he took to the water. Fran wrung her hands. "It's too far, and swimming is too slow. Where's Cecil Bill?" "Cecil Bill?" said Buelah, "Oh, I see him, too. He's just climbing the cliff right close to them. He must have been fishing below the Falls." "Has he his tackle?" "Sure," said Buelah. "The heavy deep-sea gear. And — whoops, there they go again! The Colonel and Madame Ooglepus, I mean. No, now they're stuck, and she looks plenty mad. Hope she falls in." "Buelah," Fran moaned. "Can't you see they're in danger? If only you'd brought your broomstick. You could fly right out and rescue them." The gravity of the situation finally struck Buelah. She said, "Sorry, my dear. I didn't realize. Well, if I haven't my broomstick, I've got the next best thing. My portable radar in my bonnet has a loudspeaker unit. Maybe I can talk them in like the control tower talks in an airplane." Fran turned to me. "That won't work. Madame Ooglepus will never do what Buelah tells her, and she won't let the Colonel do it, either. I'm going up there." She began to climb. I held my breath as she scrambled over the bad places, but Fran was surefooted. In a moment she was beside Buelah. She grasped the microphone. "Cecil Bill," she called, and her amplified voice boomed out over the water. "Cecil Bill, stay right where you are.