Word Wholesaler
Edward Z.C. Judson, who wrote the Buffalo Bill stories under the name of Ned Buntline, once turned out a 600 page novel in sixty-five hours. Col. Prentiss Ingraham, who took up the series when Judson left off, wrote a 35,000 word novel in a day. There are 773,7(?)4 words in the bible. Gilbert Patten, author of the 776 Frank Merriwell books, wrote the equivalent wordage every four months. His total for seventeen years was 35,000,000 words.
Striker leads them all. He write 60,000 words a week every week-- the equivalent of the Bible every three months. The cumulative birth pangs of the 10,000 different characters he has spawned have shattered four typewriters.
His 156 Lone Ranger scripts a year, plus 365 Lone Ranger cartoon strips, plus twelve Lone Ranger novels, plus editing the movie versions, plus his tremendous correspondence, account for two thirds of his output. He also writes 104 Green Hornet scripts and fifty-two Ned Jordan, Secret Agent scripts a year for WXYZ. His working day is fourteen hours: in return, $10,000 a year, or around a third of a cent a word.
The Ranger, of course, is closest to Striker's heart. He looks on his job as a public trust and discharges it with the utmost seriousness. It is also a private trust; he has three Ranger-worshipping children of his own. Many of the radio's conventions spring from an almost craven timidity, but Striker's are based on simple psychology and common sense.
Each of his episodes is complete in itself. The children don't go to bed in a state of suspense, wondering whether rescue will come in time. None of the dramatic action can be localized in the home. Indians may attack, cattle may stampede, a bridge may collapse, but there is never a prowler. Physical handicaps are mentioned only when they are vital to the plot and then only briefly. Striker always pictures a person similarly handicapped listening to the program in company.
It goes without saying that the Ranger does not drink, gamble or smoke. Villains may; they may also shoot to kill, but the actual killing is never dramatized. Either the shot comes at the end of a scene, or it is immediately followed by a burst of music.
Villains have another privilege in their vocabulary of abuse; they are allowed to snarl, "You rat!" (or "snake," or "polecat"). Even here Striker is sparing. the mildest epithet is sure to bring this sort of letter: "A reprimand after one of your broadcasts prompted a son of mine to turn on me with the words he had just heard on the radio--'You rat!'"
Striker sighs and dictates a form reply: "You may be sure that your letter will be given every consideration, as it is by suggestions such as these that we are guided."
Villains run true to character in causing him trouble. Legal caution prevents their having a surname, so they have to take turns with Muggsy, Butch, Scar, Slim, Pete and Lefty. Nor can they be the dastardly greasers of yore. The morning after Striker had some Mexicans raid an American farm, he got a sharp protest from the Mexican consul in Detroit. Thereafter all villains have been Americans or, as a compromise, half-breeds. Here, too, a form reply soothes irate patriots: "One criminal is never considered representative of his race or races."
More...
This article originally appeared in The Saturday Evening Post on October 14, 1939.