Wagon Train - "The Fort Pierce Story" -1963

In “The Fort Pierce Story” episode of Wagon Train Ann Blyth is an officer’s wife, the only woman in a frontier fort, battling her demons with alcohol.

One can easily see why this script appealed to her: her character is multi-dimensional, gets to be angry, to show fear, depression, anguish, be occasionally silly, brittle at times verging on hysteria, and gets to play a drunk scene in the middle of a formal dinner. 

Her officer husband is played by Ronald Reagan in one of his last handful of TV roles before he entered California politics.  Though he strikes me as a little too old to play a young officer up and coming in his career, nevertheless, he draws our sympathy as being a man torn between duty and love for his wife.  He’s trying to find a middle ground, made more painful by the guilt he feels for subjecting his wife to life on a lonely outpost and the rigors of the frontier.

She seems as delicate to him as the fine china teacups out of which she drinks cheap whiskey when she is alone, and she is alone a lot.  Slipping a mint in her mouth when she hears his troop return, Ann steps gingerly out into the hot sun of the parade ground, where the other soldiers are on eggshells in her presence, as if fearing she will go off the deep end.

They have reason, as we will learn later when Mr. Reagan tells the horrific story of their baby having died two months previously while he was away on patrol, and Ann sat in her rocker with the child in her arms, refusing to give it up.

She wants no more children.

The happy news that a wagon train with settlers is coming through excites her, just the thought of seeing new faces, especially other women, and she gets a little giddy at the thought.  Our old friend John McIntire, who led the wagon train on a previous episode, “The Clementine Jones Story” which we discussed here, and appeared in several of Ann Blyth’s films, brings a feeling of civilization and hope with the settlers he is guiding west.  However, we have a secondary plot of the fort’s being understaffed due to Washington pulling back funding (“In Washington everything translates to votes and dollars”), and the military escort McIntire requests is denied.  The wagon train will be at the mercy of attack by Indians when they leave the fort to continue west.

Another fellow on board as a scout is Robert Fuller, whom we will meet again in an episode of Kraft Suspense Theater when he plays opposite Ann in “Jungle of Fear” (1965).

I especially like John Doucette as the grim colonel of the fort, who curtly debriefs Reagan on his patrols, and casts a severe eye upon Ann Blyth as a disruption to the discipline of his command.  He will order her to be taken away on the wagon train when it leaves.  He is steely, but intelligent and though he seems cold and strict, he is nonetheless fair.  Dry, sarcastic, demanding, yet one can envision in him a renaissance man by his crisp, educated speech.  The script by John McGreevey allows all parties to be flawed, but still possessed of a nobility of spirit.

Ann Blyth, left in the position to mind the baby of a young couple on the wagon train, played by Ron Hayes and Kathie Browne, learns that the only way to face the frightening future is to come to terms with the wretched present.  Traumatized and nearly sick with self-loathing, she takes her first steps at healing herself when she cuddles the crying baby.

Ronald Reagan must, in defiance of all the proud ancestors in his military family, carve his own trail through his career that includes his duty to his wife. 

John McIntire clashes with the colonel, as well, when he demands a military escort through dangerous territory.  The climax of the episode occurs when the wagon train, with Ann Blyth on board, leaves without escort, and the attack that follows.

Longtime fans (I’m looking at you CW) will note the soft waltz played on a banjo and fiddle that occurs outside among the pioneer families having a party as “The Tomorrow Waltz” which Ann sung in a previous episode of Wagon Train we covered here.

“The Fort Pierce Story,” from the seventh season of Wagon Train, was broadcast September 23, 1963.  It was Ann’s fifth and last guest appearance on the show.  According to a column by Joseph Finnegan, at least part of this episode was filmed at Kanab, Utah in the summer of 1963.  Several Wagon Train episodes have been up on YouTube from time to time, but happily, I believe all seasons of this show are now available on DVD.

Ann Blyth’s fifth and last child was born in April that year, and, along with her stint on WagonTrain, at 34 years old, she immediately launched into preparing herself for one of her early forays into summer musical theatre with a production of Carnival in July.  We’ll talk about her musical theatre roles in a future post.

Though stage musicals would present an entirely new career for her, there was still room and energy enough for a few more TV appearances. 

Come back next Thursday when we talk about TV in the 1950s and 1960s.

*************************

The News Texan, May 22, 1963, column by Joseph Finnegan, p. 2.

*************************

THANK YOU....to the following folks whose aid in gathering material for this series has been invaluable:  EBH; Kevin Deany of Kevin's Movie Corner; Gerry Szymski of Westmont Movie Classics, Westmont, Illinois; and Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.

***************************

UPDATE:  This series on Ann Blyth is now a book - ANN BLYTH: ACTRESS. SINGER. STAR. -

*********************
The audio book for Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is now for sale on Audible.com, and on Amazon and iTunes.

Also in paperback and eBook from Amazon, CreateSpace, and my Etsy shop: LynchTwinsPublishing.

 "Lynch’s book is organized and well-written – and has plenty of amusing observations – but when it comes to describing Blyth’s movies, Lynch’s writing sparkles." - Ruth Kerr, Silver Screenings

"Jacqueline T. Lynch creates a poignant and thoroughly-researched mosaic of memories of a fine, upstanding human being who also happens to be a legendary entertainer." - Deborah Thomas, Java's Journey

"One of the great strengths of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is that Lynch not only gives an excellent overview of Blyth's career -- she offers detailed analyses of each of Blyth's roles -- but she puts them in the context of the larger issues of the day."- Amanda Garrett, Old Hollywood Films

"Jacqueline's book will hopefully cause many more people to take a look at this multitalented woman whose career encompassed just about every possible aspect of 20th Century entertainment." - Laura Grieve, Laura's Miscellaneous Musings''

"Jacqueline T. Lynch’s Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is an extremely well researched undertaking that is a must for all Blyth fans." - Annette Bochenek, Hometowns to Hollywood

Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. 
by Jacqueline T. Lynch

The first book on the career of actress Ann Blyth. Multitalented and remarkably versatile, Blyth began on radio as a child, appeared on Broadway at the age of twelve in Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine, and enjoyed a long and diverse career in films, theatre, television, and concerts. A sensitive dramatic actress, the youngest at the time to be nominated for her role in Mildred Pierce (1945), she also displayed a gift for comedy, and was especially endeared to fans for her expressive and exquisite lyric soprano, which was showcased in many film and stage musicals. Still a popular guest at film festivals, lovely Ms. Blyth remains a treasure of the Hollywood's golden age.

Movies in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century

This is to announce the publication of Movies in our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century, my latest book, a collection of essays on classic films from the period from 1928 to 1960 and how they reflect their eras.

Some of these essays have been previously published in Classic Films and the American Conscience.  That is available only as an eBook, but Movies in Our Time, out as an eBook now, will also be issued in paperback by the end of the month.

These essays originated through the past eight years or so here on Another Old Movie Blog.  The cover is by that Noir Girl, Casey Koester.

The books is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Sony, and a variety of other online merchants.

If anyone who blogs and likes to review books would care to review this one, I'll provide an eBook or paperback in exchange for an honest review.   Just send me an email with your preference to JacquelineTLynch@gmail.com.

Ann Blyth - Two Stage Dramas

Author's collection.

Two stage dramas, seventeen years apart in Ann Blyth’s career, tell of her acting range and of how she mined opportunities for a variety of work.  One occurred in 1950 when she was well established in her film career and a star just shy of her 22^nd birthday.  The second occurred a decade after her last film, when, though still a working actress on TV guest roles and in summer musical theatre around the country, she was considered, at 38, to be flying under the radar for her absence on the big screen.

The first play: Thornton Wilder’s Our Town at the La Jolla Playhouse in La Jolla, California, in August, 1950.  The second: Frederick Mott’s thriller Wait Until Dark at the Studebaker Theater in Chicago, 1967.

With her latest film released, Our Very Own (1950), which we covered here, the year 1950 brought new adventures, and challenges, for Ann Blyth that gave her a break from her film work.  One of these was her first time singing at the Academy Awards, which we'll cover in a future post.  Another was a week’s engagement at the La Jolla Playhouse, founded by actors Gregory Peck, Dorothy McGuire, and Mel Ferrer, which we talked about here in this previous post.

It had been seven years since Ann had trod the boards, having come to Hollywood via the national touring company in Lillian Hellman’s Watch on the Rhine, in the role of Babette, which Ann originated on Broadway.  We discussed that in our intro post to this series on Ann Blyth’s career here.  Ann was a child of 12 when she won her role in that prestigious play. 

Though Hollywood scavenged a lot of actors from the theater, the seven-year contract rarely released them back to that other world.  The La Jolla Playhouse, with its limited summertime schedule, offered a chance for stage-starved actors to put a toehold back in that other world, if only briefly.

Photo Modern Screen, November, 1950 (public domain)

Mel Ferrer, Millard Mitchell, Ann Blyth, Marshall Thompson

Our Town featured Millard Mitchell as the stage manager, with Ann as Emily, opposite Marshall Thompson as George.  Beulah Bondi as Ann’s mother, and Edgar Buchanan rounded out the top-notch cast of Hollywood escapees.  Mel Ferrer directed the show, performed at the La Jolla High School Auditorium.  Also in the cast were O.Z. Whitehead, Esther Somers, Raymond Greenleaf, Clarence Straight, Jay Barney, Frank Conlan, Elizabeth Slifer, and Ricky Barber.

In a review by Katherine Von Blon for the Los Angeles Times, the scene where Ann as Emily returns as a ghost to relive a happy birthday morning from her past is described as “almost unbearably moving.”

Exquisite Ann Blyth demonstrated rare and sensitive gifts as an actress.  There were few dry eyes in the house when she made the speech ending with “goodbye world.”

The show was “truly an unforgettable experience.”

But, of course, the stage world is ethereal, and so we may not forget, but we move on with only memories—and a few reviews and a tattered, yellowed program—to document the event.

Have a look at a few production photos of Our Town rehearsal here at the Mel Ferrer website.

At the end of the run, Ann returned to Hollywood, and was loaned out to MGM for The Great Caruso, which began her participation in MGM’s screen musical golden age.  We’ll talk about that film down the road.

By 1967, when Ann performed in the Chicago production of the Broadway hit Wait Until Dark, she had not made a film in a decade, and her stage work that had come to replace film as her main acting endeavor was devoted to popular musicals, allowing her, at last, to use her beautiful, trained, singing voice in a wide range of musicals that she never got to do on film.  But she was still receptive to a good dramatic role, and the part of Suzy, the blind woman at the mercy of a gang of drug dealers was an exceptionally meaty role.  It is emotionally draining, and physically challenging, and most actresses who’ve tackled the role get bruised and bumped up in the fight scene.

Production photo, credit unknown at this time.

I’ve always thought that the climactic scene where the villain opens the refrigerator door, casting a beam of light across a darkened stage to find his victim, who has been hiding from him, one of the most chilling sights in theatre.  So simply done, no theatrical razzle-dazzle, yet so creepy.

“Creepy” was the watchword of Thomas Willis’ review of Wait Until Dark in the Chicago Tribune.  Mr. Willis, longtime arts and music critic for the Tribune, labels not only the gang of drug dealers as creepy, but also the husband of the blind woman for his “deliberate lack of sympathy” for his wife’s blindness in forcing her to be more independent.  He calls Ann Blyth “the most believable” in her role and also finds it creepy she is able to compensate for her character’s blindness by distinguishing people around her by their footsteps, yet still has trouble navigating her own apartment.

Miss Blyth is beautiful as ever, but somewhat stiff in characterization of the girl not yet accustomed to sightlessness.

With that typically bored and blasé tone of many critics, he notes that the rest of the "uniformly capable" cast, “measure up," with most of his review describing the plot of the story, rather than commenting specifically on the acting or technical elements.

Wait Until Dark played for five weeks.  James Tolkan played the sinister Harry Rote.  Donald Buka and Val Bisoglie were the thugs-as-chumps, with Michael Ebert as her husband.  Sheryl Mandel was Gloria, the little girl upstairs who proves to be an ally.

Six bucks for the orchestra.  (The blogger heaves a big sigh.)

Later on in this same year that Ann performed in Wait Until Dark, 1967, she went back to musical theatre in The King and I in St. Louis, and then right into Carnival in Salt Lake City, where the Deseret News called her a “petite star of all five mediums,” recounting her role in Mildred Pierce (1945), which we discussed here, and then reminds us, “After that, she was one of the brightest stars of the movie world.  She has also starred in television, on the stage, and in nightclubs.”

It sounds like an obituary.  Just rounding 39 years old, and the press was reminding readers who she was.  But these musicals, though “off the radar” by standards that judged film to be the most important reflection of popular culture, yet offered her creative challenges, the ability to flex muscles, and, most especially, starring roles.  We’ll cover those in a later post.

We mentioned last week in a post on three of her radio performances that though while Ann Blyth is primarily remembered for her films, she made only 32 of them.  She performed as many as 400 times on radio.

But she acted on stage probably at least 700 times over the course of more than 40 years, not including her singing concerts, which extended her career another couple of decades. 

Her first stage appearance in Chicago was in 1942, (twenty-five years before Wait Until Dark) the year she turned 14, on the road show of Watch on the Rhine, which played at the Grand Opera House on Clark Street.

The year before, 1941, the show was still on Broadway, and Ann recalled for Modern Screen magazine in an article from 1953 a funny, but uncomfortable stage memory from that show:

What I remember particularly is the second act when I was supposed to be on stage and cook some potato pancakes (really flat bran muffins) for Lucile Watson.  One night I was so busy chatting with someone offstage that I missed my cue and Miss Watson had to improvise.  She walked right to the stage entrance where I was dreaming and said, “Where is Babette?  Oh, there you are!  (Looking at me so sharply that I woke up and realized what I had done).  I was wondering where my potato pancakes were!”  I ran on stage with them.  But when the act was over, I burst into tears that lasted all through the intermission, and I’m still embarrassed about it.

Missing a cue at 13 is even more terrifying than being attacked with a trick knife in Wait Until Dark at 38.

Still, that 13-year old leaves a small but special footprint -- it is common that when a playscript is published, the names of the original cast are included.  When you order a Watch on the Rhine actor's script today from its current publisher, Dramatists Play Service, this will greet you in the opening pages:

Come back next week when Ann rides TV's Wagon Train once more in 1963, as a tragic frontier officer’s wife who drowns her anguish in alcohol.  Ronald Reagan co-stars in one of his last acting roles.

******************

Chicago Tribune. "Wait Until Dark' at the Studebaker Tomorrow", May 14, 1967, p. E13;  "Wait Until Dark Simulates Terror" by Thomas Willis, May 16, 1967, p. B3.

Deseret News (Salt Lake City) August 26, 1967, p.10A, “Ann Blyth to Star in Carnival at Valley Music.”

Hellman, Lillian.  Watch on the Rhine. (Dramatists Play Service).

Janesville Daily Gazette (Janesville, Wisconsin), May 15, 1967.

Modern Screen. “Take My Word for It” star column by Ann Blyth, January 1953, p. 69.

Modern Screen, November 1950, “Ann Blyth’s Story” by Cynthia Willet, p. 88.

******************

THANK YOU....to the following folks whose aid in gathering material for this series has been invaluable:  EBH; Kevin Deany of Kevin's Movie Corner; Gerry Szymski of Westmont Movie Classics, Westmont, Illinois; and Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.

***************************
UPDATE:  This series on Ann Blyth is now a book - ANN BLYTH: ACTRESS. SINGER. STAR. -

*********************
The audio book for Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is now for sale on Audible.com, and on Amazon and iTunes.

Also in paperback and eBook from Amazon, CreateSpace, and my Etsy shop: LynchTwinsPublishing.

 "Lynch’s book is organized and well-written – and has plenty of amusing observations – but when it comes to describing Blyth’s movies, Lynch’s writing sparkles." - Ruth Kerr, Silver Screenings

"Jacqueline T. Lynch creates a poignant and thoroughly-researched mosaic of memories of a fine, upstanding human being who also happens to be a legendary entertainer." - Deborah Thomas, Java's Journey

"One of the great strengths of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is that Lynch not only gives an excellent overview of Blyth's career -- she offers detailed analyses of each of Blyth's roles -- but she puts them in the context of the larger issues of the day."- Amanda Garrett, Old Hollywood Films

"Jacqueline's book will hopefully cause many more people to take a look at this multitalented woman whose career encompassed just about every possible aspect of 20th Century entertainment." - Laura Grieve, Laura's Miscellaneous Musings''

"Jacqueline T. Lynch’s Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is an extremely well researched undertaking that is a must for all Blyth fans." - Annette Bochenek, Hometowns to Hollywood

Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. 
by Jacqueline T. Lynch

The first book on the career of actress Ann Blyth. Multitalented and remarkably versatile, Blyth began on radio as a child, appeared on Broadway at the age of twelve in Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine, and enjoyed a long and diverse career in films, theatre, television, and concerts. A sensitive dramatic actress, the youngest at the time to be nominated for her role in Mildred Pierce (1945), she also displayed a gift for comedy, and was especially endeared to fans for her expressive and exquisite lyric soprano, which was showcased in many film and stage musicals. Still a popular guest at film festivals, lovely Ms. Blyth remains a treasure of the Hollywood's golden age.

Ann Blyth on Radio: Three Performances

Ann Blyth appeared in 32 films over the course of a screen career that lasted 13 years.  She made possibly as many as 400 radio performances and appearances in her career, over a course of several decades.  Today we’ll talk about three of those performances, and about the peculiar sensation of sound and imagination that creates the so-called “theatre of the air.”

In the middle twentieth century, radio was the main entertainment vehicle, with access to far greater audience numbers than even the movie industry at its most popular.  Acting on radio required a different skill set than performing on stage, but it was like being on stage, especially for shows that were broadcast in front of a live audience. 

Radio required different acting than on screen, yet like film acting, it relied on the actors’ ability to emote and connect with an electronic device—in this case, a microphone instead of a motion picture camera—rather than to play to the audience, even if an audience was present.

As we’ve mentioned in this previous post on old time radio, and in this one on Ann Blyth’s appearance on the Studio One episode of “The Angelic Avengers,” some stars were more successful on radio than others, and some more prolific.  Ann, began her acting and singing career on radio when she was a child of six in New York City, had learned the ropes early on and by the time she was an adult, performed splendidly in a medium that required precise articulation, breath control, the ability to use accents, and most especially, the quality of intimacy with the listener that makes really fine old time radio performances so thrilling and appealing.

Our first show is a version of “State Fair” performed on General Electric Theater September 10, 1953.  This is the chestnut that had been made into a film three times over three decades, and popped up on radio from time to time.  Ann had performed in another version for the Hallmark Playhouse in 1948.

This script was adapted by one my favorite television writers, Kathleen Hite, and because of the half-hour time constraint, focuses on the problems of Ann’s character, Frake family daughter Margie and her experience at the state fair.

Tom Tully is her dad, Verna Felton is her mother, and features old radio and film standbys Sam Edwards, Joe Kerns, Dick Ryan, and Lamont Johnson.  Ken Carpenter is the announcer, who keeps reminding us how wonderful General Electric appliances are, and at one point Ann heartily agrees, as they contribute to “the ease of modern living.”  It seems we can get a standing freezer for $2.69 a week, plus a small down payment.

The show was performed before an audience, but then edited and prettied up before being broadcast on “transcription,” or recording.  There’s a lot of “fair” sounds to add and with some quick cutting, the show is well-produced.

Though radio shows, like stage and screen, were rehearsed beforehand, there is still an element akin to a “cold” reading because the actors are not playing to each other, not playing to the audience, not working with props, or costumes, or any of the usual devices that help them to get into character.  They must just stand before the mic and BE that character, only through their voice, yet performing in this situation is more physical than it seems. 

Listen to the mechanics of Ann’s expression of emotional turmoil: her irritability, her fight with her boyfriend, speaking her lines through tears, and later with her parents, sobbing on the car ride, sounding frustrated and brokenhearted.  We can’t see her, so she can’t rely on facial expressions, body movements, no trembling lip, hanky twisted in hands or dabbing at tears, no turning from the camera to hide the inability to manufacture tears behind heaving shoulders.  No glycerin drops in the eyes courtesy of the makeup man.

She’s got to sob, really.  Because the only thing that sounds like sobbing is sobbing.  She’s got to bring it up from the belly, and it’s got to be messy, nose-running, stomach-tightening sobs.  We have to HEAR her.  And then she’s got to be able to put on the brakes and stop it instantly because of the quick shifts in scene on radio. 

Ann also narrates the episode, voicing over scenes, in the interest of time constraint.  She tells us she is “full of feelings that I didn’t understand, that welled up quickly, soared and flew, and then slipped away into nothing.  Then I’d be all empty inside and lonely.”

The really fun scene is the roller coaster, where she meets the reporter who becomes her new love.  Listen to the roller coaster sounds, the carnival barker, the ratcheting of the cars on the cogs up the coaster slope, and then we can imagine, the car teeters for a moment at the top, then plummets, making us feel the lurching in our own stomachs.  Listen to her splendid, genuine screams, timed right at the moment of descent and the rush of speed.  The ride ends with their chuckling at the exhilaration, and her embarrassed giggle for having screamed.  Good radio sounds very natural, as if we are eavesdropping.

Listen to the episode here:

Or visit the Internet Archive website here and scroll down to "State Fair" where you can either listen or download to your computer.

Next, we have a darker mood and a sinister tale of SUSPENSE.  Suspense was a long-running program from 1942 to 1962 (its ending in September 1962, along with the final episode of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar would mark the end of the Golden Age of Radio), and featured the biggest Hollywood stars in top-notch scripts.  Harlow Wilcox is our pitchman for sponsor Autolite Spark Plugs.  I love that distinctive hollow two-note chime we hear as a show theme and feel in the pit of our stomachs.

Edmond O’Brien, with whom Ann starred in the film Another Part of the Forest (1948), discussed here, is the lead in “Muddy Track”, broadcast November 11, 1948.  He’s a mug down on his luck, and takes a job for a bookie.  He finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ends up being a hunted fugitive.  Ann plays a damsel in distress…or is she?

This is a studio-produced show, with no live audience.  The intimacy is controlled, and every sound is intimate in this show, wonderfully evocative of mood and location.  The tinkling of glasses, a lazy plunking of a piano tells us we’re in a bar.  The sound of someone writing on a notepad in a heavy hand, scratching the pen across the paper.  All the soft sounds of life going on all around us that we usually do not notice in the din and cacophony of our world today, where attention deficit syndrome is as common a diagnosis as obesity, and as much a product of our society.

Edmond O’Brien’s resonant voice is made for radio, his cynicism, his worry, his panting panic as he narrates his actions.  He discovers a dead body, and then realizes he is being set up as a fall guy.

Ann’s first entrance is a sharp, gasp of terror when she discovers O’Brien in the compromising situation.  He pretends he is a cop investigating the murder, and he hustles her away to a hole-in-wall restaurant to question her.  She’s rattled, recovering from the shock, drinking a cup of tea he’s ordered for her.  Ann, still teary and upset, delivers her plot exposition while swallowing sips of liquid—again, the mechanics of acting before a microphone.

Later, when they are on the run together in a city park, in order to hide from a cop strolling by, they kiss each other quickly, pretending they are lovers.  The technique used here to illustrate the urgency of the situation—which then becomes a moment of true passion—is for Ann to say her line to the point her words become mingled into a kiss.  Though we next have O’Brien’s voice-over narration describing his feelings, it is not the explanation of the kissing that thrills the imagination; it is the actual muffled sound of the kiss interrupting the line and the following moments when we are allowed to hear them only breathing.

It’s like G-rated phone sex.

At the end of the episode, were are told Ann Blyth can now be seen in Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, which we discussed here.  Have a listen to “Muddy Track”:

Or visit the Internet Archive website here and scroll down to "Muddy Track" to listen or download to your computer.

Finally, we have another mysterious outing in the popular “Shadow of a Doubt,” a version of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1943 film that was produced on radio by several different programs.  This one is from Hollywood Sound Stage, a Screen Guild Players incarnation that raised funds in support of the Motion Picture Relief Fund.  It was broadcast January 10, 1952.  (Ann Blyth had previously performed another version for Ford Theater in 1949 with Ray Milland.)

Here her co-star as the sinister Uncle Charlie is Jeff Chandler, another superb radio voice, and our favorite Mr. Boynton on Our Miss Brooks.


Ann is on almost the entire show. She narrates in a smooth, controlled voice, and she plays the intelligent niece whose hero-worshiping of her uncle melts into disillusionment and terror.

One fun aspect to the production is that she gets to hum “The Merry Widow Waltz” during the dishwashing scene.  While her mother and Jeff Chandler speak, we hear the clatter of plates in the background.  Ann’s lovely voice hums the waltz behind the other two actors, and she frequently interrupts herself to say her own lines, then back to the tune.

Later, in the moment where she trips on the broken wooden step, we hear a sickening thud, punctuated by her gasp and shriek, “Mother!”  It requires very quick and precise timing. 

In the final scene with the struggle on the moving train, we hear the rush of the increasing speed of the train, and her scream dies off in a kind of aural “fade to black”.

Listen to “Shadow of a Doubt” here:

Or visit the Internet Archive website  and scroll down to "Shadow of a Doubt" to listen or download to your computer.

I sometimes think in our fast-paced world of media, especially portable media, exploding all around us, that we really don’t listen enough, or listen well.  It’s hard when there are so many distractions, and much of what we see and hear in the media today is less entertaining than it is a mere distraction.

To be fully engaged, we need to be quiet sometimes, very still, and listen.  Sounds have textures, most especially the human voice.

Come back next Thursday when we cover a tale of two stage dramas:  Ann’s roles in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town at the La Jolla Playhouse in 1950, and in Wait Until Dark in Chicago in 1967.

Publicity photo, credit unknown at this time.

****************************

THANK YOU....to the following folks whose aid in gathering material for this series has been invaluable:  EBH; Kevin Deany of Kevin's Movie Corner; Gerry Szymski of Westmont Movie Classics, Westmont, Illinois; and Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.

***************************
UPDATE:  This series on Ann Blyth is now a book - ANN BLYTH: ACTRESS. SINGER. STAR. -

*********************
The audio book for Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is now for sale on Audible.com, and on Amazon and iTunes.

Also in paperback and eBook from Amazon, CreateSpace, and my Etsy shop: LynchTwinsPublishing.

 "Lynch’s book is organized and well-written – and has plenty of amusing observations – but when it comes to describing Blyth’s movies, Lynch’s writing sparkles." - Ruth Kerr, Silver Screenings

"Jacqueline T. Lynch creates a poignant and thoroughly-researched mosaic of memories of a fine, upstanding human being who also happens to be a legendary entertainer." - Deborah Thomas, Java's Journey

"One of the great strengths of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is that Lynch not only gives an excellent overview of Blyth's career -- she offers detailed analyses of each of Blyth's roles -- but she puts them in the context of the larger issues of the day."- Amanda Garrett, Old Hollywood Films

"Jacqueline's book will hopefully cause many more people to take a look at this multitalented woman whose career encompassed just about every possible aspect of 20th Century entertainment." - Laura Grieve, Laura's Miscellaneous Musings''

"Jacqueline T. Lynch’s Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is an extremely well researched undertaking that is a must for all Blyth fans." - Annette Bochenek, Hometowns to Hollywood

Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. 
by Jacqueline T. Lynch

The first book on the career of actress Ann Blyth. Multitalented and remarkably versatile, Blyth began on radio as a child, appeared on Broadway at the age of twelve in Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine, and enjoyed a long and diverse career in films, theatre, television, and concerts. A sensitive dramatic actress, the youngest at the time to be nominated for her role in Mildred Pierce (1945), she also displayed a gift for comedy, and was especially endeared to fans for her expressive and exquisite lyric soprano, which was showcased in many film and stage musicals. Still a popular guest at film festivals, lovely Ms. Blyth remains a treasure of the Hollywood's golden age.

The eBook and paperback are available from Amazon and also available in eBook at:

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Apple iBooks

 You can also order it from my Etsy shop. 

If you wish a signed copy, then email me at JacquelineTLynch@gmail.com and I'll get back to you with the details.