Dryden the Wool: A Centennial Salute to Robert Dryden

100 years ago today, on February 8, 1917, radio actor Robert (Bob) Dryden was born. His surname suited him, as his voice was typically dry, often with a distinctive crackle (even moreso when aged into old men, a specialty). Although he only had a few running roles, Dryden was one of the busiest utility players on the New York airwaves, an in-demand doubler (playing multiple roles per show), from dialects to authority figures to low-key shopkeeps and country sheriffs to NY cabbies. He played Hitler, Satan, Jacob Marley, you name it. His career practically spanned the life of radio: from the golden age of the late 1930s through the waning network era (sticking to CBS for the last run of Suspense) and into the various revival efforts (most notably CBS Radio Mystery Theater, where he was a mainstay for eight years).

Dryden had established himself on the airwaves by at least 1938 (when his name crops up in trade magazines); the same year, he made his Broadway debut in The Hill Between with Mildred Dunnock, which closed after 11 performances. He was heard often on the likes of Columbia Workshop and in the productions of Norman Corwin. His running parts were fairly few, including a stint on Big Town in the 1940s as cabbie Harry the Hack (shown at top) and on Call the Police as the sidekick, Sgt. Maggio. More often, he was the reliable standby heard constantly, especially on Gangbusters (from crooks and cops to many of the "by proxy" real-life police officials or mayors who narrated the tales). Here's a 1967 interview with Richard "Whatever Became Of?" Lamparski, jointly with Don McLaughlin, reminiscing about the series (McLaughlin does more of the talking, but Dryden gets some in).


When I Love a Mystery was revived in New York (1949-1952), Dryden was a staple, particularly well suited to colorful old-timers (notably Jumping Dick in the serial "Bury Your Dead, Arizona"), who often offered comic relief, as well as outright hoods. When series lead Russell Thorson left for the West Coast, Dryden took over as Jack Packard for the remaining months. Take a listen to Jumping Dick in action, trying to interest Doc Long in his daughter:


On Fletcher Markle's Studio One, Dryden was heard almost weekly, from featured supporting roles (Senator Henry in "The Glass Key") to the "also heard" ensemble, filling in all kinds of bits (inevitably including oldtimers in any Western tale). Similarly, on the news drama Big Story (loosely dramatizing scoops by real-life reporters), he played his usual types: sheriffs, judges, cops, and dry storekeepers. He was shady types on Superman, lurked on The Shadow, took the train with The Mysterious Traveler, was part of The Cavalcade of America, and nearly any NY drama you care to name. (Curiously, his X-Minus One appearances were few compared to his fellows, perhaps just because he was kept hopping elsewhere).

When TV entered the picture, Dryden was still active in radio, even when the medium was clearly dying. He participated in several of the NY broadcasts of CBS Radio Workshop (1956-1957, a favorite of mine), including Lucifer in the comedic "Billion Dollar Failure of Figger Fallup" (in which Old Scratch hires a polling agency to estimate how many damned souls he'll need to take in). Late in 1959, CBS moved Suspense to New York (where it had originated in its earliest shows), and would do the same to Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar the following year. Both dramas continued until 1962 and kept Dryden hopping. He played miners, sea captains, old farmers (real or hallucinated), working stiffs, and Adolf Hitler (in the inevitable "Let's kill Hitler" episode "Time on My Hands.")

On Johnny Dollar, Dryden sometimes filled in as leftover continuing characters from the Hollywood era, such as worrywort insurance broker Harry Branson (originally Harry Bartell). He played new insurance contacts, and an assortment of policemen or fire chiefs, and less trustworthy types with names like Touchy or Shorty. He also popped up on the comedy The Couple Next Door, showing off his dialects during an arc where the Couple (and Aunt Effie) visit Europe.

Though 1962 is often marked as the end date for old-time radio, Dryden soldiered on. ABC launched the short-lived revival Theatre Five in 1964, and Dryden was there. Eternal Light kept on NBC as a public affairs program? Dryden was there. And when National Lampoon launched The National Lampoon Radio Hour (1973-1974), Mr. Dryden was one of the OTR pros (including Jackson Beck and Leon Janney) who rubbed vocal chords with the younger comedians such as John Belushi and Christopher Guest. (Dryden later played Belushi's doctor in a single 1977 Saturday Night Live bit). He often played establishment types (yet another judge in the very short "Trial of Al Capone" bit) or commercial spokesmen, as typified by the Monolithic Oil bit:


And then we have The CBS Radio Mystery Theater, which ran from 1974 until 1982, from Himan "Creaking Door" Brown. I (and others) first knew the name and voice of Robert Dryden from his many appearances on the series (with only three to five actors per show, most doubling, it wasn't hard to narrow down). He was heard the entire run, in over 300 episodes (nearly a quarter of the 1300 plus total). He played leads, co-leads, supporting roles, whatever. Hitler and Satan popped up again, he was a slew of old men (kindly or evil), and put that aged voice to especially good use as Jacob Marley in "A Christmas Carol" (first aired in 1975 but repeated annually). Typical of Dryden's usefulness: the episode "Black Widow" (1978), with Hetty Galen as lead, Dryden gets second billing at the start. He plays Galen's elderly husband, killed by labor racketeers in a hit and run near the start... and then returns to the mike as the no-nonsense police lieutenant assigned to the case. When 1977 brought with it an O. Henry week of tales (seven in all), Dryden narrated as O. Henry. Here's an example, "Jimmy Valentine's Gamble."
"Jimmy Valentine's Gamble."

Dryden did much the same on the short-lived juvenile audience spin-off Adventure Theater (Baloo in "Jungle Book" adaptations, Ben Gunn in "Treasure Island," the fox in "Pinocchio," etc.) He also kept his pipes busy beyond radio, including children's records for MGM (the late sixties "Official Adventures" series, including the Shadow with Bret Morrison, as well as Princa Valiant and the Phantom) and for Scholastic and Troll.

He announced commercials for Life Saver candies and others, narrated educational shorts and documentaries, and even did some film dubbing. I became aware of the latter when I revisited Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West (dubbed in New York by Titan, the outfit which under the name Titra handled most of the Godzilla films). The famous opening scene features an elderly station manager at the start, and his voice is dubbed by Bob Dryden. Finally, the voice is matched to someone who looks as old as Dryden sounds! He had previously done the same dubbing German actor Joseph Eggar's eccentric oldtimers in the first two entries in the "Dollars" trilogy, and can be heard in smaller roles (such as an older padre at the mission) in The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly (the latter was mentioned in Dryden's obituary, as if implying he was on-camera in it). Here's the Once Upon a Time in the West opening.



Speaking of on-camera, let's look at our man Dryden on the tube. While his radio and voice work dwarfs everything else, Dryden did his fare share of TV gigs. While never as familiar a face as his radio colleagues Jim Boles or Larry Haines, he did the TV versions of Studio One and Big Story, and other anthology showcases (The Alcoa Hour). There was a stint on the soap opera Edge of Night (so esteemed critics were reluctant to call it a soap). He also appeared twice each on The Phil Sivers Show (aka Sgt. Bilko) and Route 66, as shown below/ From the screengrabbing skills of Ivan Shreve Jr., we have him with Phil Silvers as a producer's yes man (name given is Sampson) in "Bilko in Hollywood" (1966).

As lawyer Metcalf in "The Colonel's Inheritance" (1958)

On Route 66 as fisherman Hollis in "Build Your Houses With Their Backs to the Sea" (1963).

And in "Child of a Night" (1964) as yet another lawyer, named Warren.

Dryden even recurred on The Naked City. After appearing twice in bits in 1959, he appeared at least a dozen times between 1960 and 1961, as the nameless police surgeon. It's a functional role (like court clerks on Perry Mason), spiced up by dry humor and what friend Ivan terms a "lip toupee".

) He was also in a fourth season installment of The Defenders (hurry up, Shout Factory!) As the sixties wore on, he was a utility player on Jackie Gleason's color "Honeymooners" skits on The Jackie Gleason Show (1966-1967).

Later, he'd pop up in occasional public television fare, such as the "American Short Story" broadcast "Paul's Case" (1980) as the school principal. Dryer than ever.

In movies, Dryden made his cinematic debut between mic gigs, in the 1957 film Four Boys with a Gun. It's a melodramatic entry with Frank "Pyle!" Sutton and James Franciscus as two of the title "boys." Dryden has several scenes as a mob boss, with the unprepossessing name of Joe Barton (sounds like a "legitimate businessman" after all) who has Sutton roughed up.

Other film credits included The Happy Hooker and Foreplay. (Hey, a gig's a gig). Though he seemed less active after the eighties in general media, he remained busy as a frequent guest to old-time radio conventions and participating regularly in live recreations. He finally signed off in 2003, at the age of 86.

Here's to the rich catalogue of recorded work available, from the dryest of the Dryden.

Tired of the Everyday Grind? Go to Juarez with Jack Webb!

I've been meaning to blog about old-time radio, one of my other passions, so this seems as good a way as any to christen the first post of a new year, in addition to a raft of material I've recently acquired, been saving, or simply put off.

Anyway, let's all get close to that glowing dial, or your computer speakers, and give a listen to Escape, and in particular, the oddball entry of December 13, 1949, called "Border Town," presenting an odd-boiled view of Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico.

Some background for anyone reading this blog who isn't named Ivan Shreve: The CBS anthology series ran from 1947 through 1954, and is often thought of as a sister show to Suspense; more than a few tales wound up on both shows, and Christine Miller has a maintains the nifty Escape and Suspense! blog devoted to both shows. One obvious separation between the two was the cast; S used big name Hollywood stars, and Escape, apart from several turns by Vincent Price and the occasional guest like Victor Mature (!), relied instead on veteran radio actors and a few movie character types for its leads and supporting roles. These were people with distinctive, adaptable, or otherwise impressive *voices* if not names, though to radio buffs or animation VO devotees, it's practically a who's who roster, many of whom went on to fame of one kind or another in other realms, as even "Border Town" reveals. Additionally, content was less crime oriented on the whole than Suspense, focusing more on tales of adventure in distant lands, dark alleys, in wartime, and the old west ("Wild Jack Rhett," the best known outing on the series, essentially set the precedent for radio's Gunsmoke), plus a few forays into science fiction (with a West Coast sound and different script approach to material done on Dimension X or X-Minus 1). Endings could be twist shockers or grim inevitabilities.

In the early years especially, the show delivered several top hole adaptations of classic authors and their modern counterparts; Kipling (of course, many times), Conan Doyle, Poe ("Fall of the House of Usher" received perhaps its best adaptation to *any* medium here), Joseph Conrad, and Ambrose Bierce rubbed shoulders with Irvin S. Cobb, Bradbury, and especially John Collier, whose unique world I discovered through Escape (though the scripts took license with a few stories, they were often improvements.) However, the show inevitably needed original scripts here and there to sustain itself all those years. Some, like James Poe's complex semi-stream of conscious "Present Tense" (anchored by a superb performance by Vincent Price) or the cross-and-doublecross tale "The Sure Thing" (by the husband and wife team of Gwen and Paul Bagni) hold up extremely well in this company as classics in their own right (and as such, were redone, either here or on Suspense). However, there were also more than a few "average person falls among unsavory parts in a vaguely exotic world" shows that either fall flat or are so overripe that they need to be placed in a secure ziplock bag before depositing. "Border Town," by the Bagnis, falls into the latter class in my opinion, and I'm perhaps more critical because it's exotic locale is just miles away from home and hearth. At the present, it's an unfortunate hotbed of murder, drug smuggling, organized crime, and mass death, from the still unsolved killings of many women beginning in the 1990s to a wave of terror (over 1,600 fatalities, including several police commanders) in the past year which has garnered national attention and inevitably led to very strained relationships between El Paso and its so-called sister city, with even missionaries unwilling to cross anymore. Apparently in 1949, however, it wasn't exotic enough for the Bagnis, who mostly ignored tamales and sultry senoritas and bullfighting, and Mexicans in general in fact, in favor of importing an eclectic assortment of cliches. Jack Webb's pronunciation of Spanish words and names doesn't help,

Anyway, time to get close to that glowing screen and give a listen to "Border Town". A partial, spoilerish breakdown for those otherwise inclined follows, beneath this very brave but poorly-phrased billboard urging El Pasoans, and Americans in general, to come back to Juarez:




Ah, the famous opening signature! This preamble (delivered by Paul Frees in this and countless other broadcasts, alternating with William Conrad frequently, and occasionally Lou Krugman and others), set the tone of, well, escapist literature, or listening in this case, often in a soothing "Does your spouse snore at night?" tone: "Tired of the everyday routine? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all?" Then cue the CBS announcer (usually Roy Rowan): "We offer you.... ESCAPE!" A little more from Roy ("designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure!"), but instead of the bit of prose and explanation of the source story which generally followed, we leap right to the voice of Joe Friday (who Jack Webb had been playing for a few months at this point, with hardboild PIS Pat Novak and Johnny Madero in the past had the jazzy bluesman Pete Kelly to come). Webb narrates in his best sardonic, hardboiled first-person manner, riding on a bus and noting the fat guy who got on at Dallas, "overflowed into my side of the seat, and for sound effect, he ate one apple after another." Jack (his character identified as Evan in the closing, but otherwise unidentified) moans about his lot, an actor on his way to Hollywood but with an "insignificant stock contract with short options and shorter dough." He has a spudnut when they stop, by the way. Mmmm, potato doughnuts. I'd like to try one someday.

Anyway, fat guy is arrested (leaving Jack/Evan's coat on the floor) and the plot finally moves, as does the bus, into El Paso! Standard radio gossipy woman talk about the man, with Bea Benaderet in faux-snob mode informing all and sundry that the man is a notorious counterfeiter. So it's pretty clear where this is leading now. Evan gets off and an El Paso bellhop (Jerry Hausner, aka Magoo's nephew Waldo and lots of baby cries, notably on I Love Lucy) suggests he spend the night at Juarez (mispronounced differently throughout, heard here as "Wha-Res"). Evan discovers "the dough" has been planted on him. Now stirred up and with nothing to do, he decides to go over into "War-Ez," taking a funny fifty with him. The Bagnis at least include tequilla and those vendors who come up to you with little dolls and the like.

Around this point, having tried to pass the bill at a dive called "El Serape" (!!), the sleazy American owner Chuck Rice (Tony Barrett) warns our hero "This is Bordertown," presaging Roman Polanski and Jack Nicholson by several decades. We get some "Yeah yeah, sure sure" talk before Rice points Evan (via a cabby he calls "Mi-gell," in what sounds like a Judy Canova drawl) to the mysterious Nieves. He finds Nieves, a canny woman played by Jeanette Nolan (our second genuine fake Mexican!), after stumbling past pigs and chickens in front of a broken-down hacienda. (Geeze, these places went to pot once Zorro grew tired of defending them!) She wants no part in the dubious dinero but directs him to another possible buyer named.... O'Toole! O'Toole turns out to be "a handsome Chinese in a dinner jacket smoking a long black cigar," and played by British actor Ben Wright, who specialized in dialects and gives out with a slightly sub-Warner Oland accent. After the payoff, we delve into more intrigue, a seemingly sympathetic floozy (Bea again), mickey finns, "squint-eyed" thugs, and Bing Crosby, Burns and Allen, and Jean Hersholt as the beloved Dr. Christian! (Oh wait, that's a CBS promo).

Now Evan wakes up, having been pressganged (next to a mostly unconscious Mexican, that makes three; this one makes William Conrad groans and murmurs) after being rolled first. For the first time, we almost get into a realm which could easily have taken place in Juarez (then and now), though most such smuggling of unwilling persons goes the other direction. Here's Mexican number four, still outnumbered by los gringos y hombres de China: a fellow-sufferer named Gonzalez explains that this is what happens "when you fall drunk." The part is played, in drunken Spanglish, by Ted de Corsia, an old hand at Mexican accents who later appeared on TV's Zorro;though playing the stereotype of the drunken Latino, De Corsia does invest "muy feo" with proper pronunciation and feeling. They're taken to yank foreman Jake (Conrad again) who uses the captives as a road gang (thus saving the expense of actually hiring workers for Hensler Construction). The rest is mostly more narration and lead-up to the inevitable fugitive from a chain gang escape, Evan gets back to "Wore Ez" for some more tough talking and a fairly lame "twist." I should probably note here that I can't roll my r's properly and my Spanish pronunciation in general can be wonky at times, but even I can do better than that. It seems like nobody involved in this show had been anywhere near El Paso or Juarez, which isn't a surprise, but still jarring; a friend of mine has the same reaction whenever people speak alleged Russian on US sitcoms.

It's not the worst thing I've ever heard on radio, but if I never hear Jack Webb mispronounce Juarez again, I'll be happy. Also, as far as I can determine, men of Chinese-descent with Irish names have never been a significant underworld force in Juarez. Maybe I'm still miffed that nobody mentioned tamales, though.