(THEME. GK SINGS)
TR: Guy Noir, Private Eye --- brought to you by the Ketchup Advisory Board.
(PIANO)
GK: It was October and I'd taken a volunteer job with the local public radio station during their fund drive. No pay, but the coffee and doughnuts were free and I figured maybe I could learn something about fundraising that I could use in my own personal life. (FOOTSTEPS)
TK: This way, Mister---- what did you say your name was?
GK: Noir. Guy Noir.
TK: Just make yourself comfortable. You care for coffee or herbal tea?
GK: I'd like a gin straight up. With a straw. --- He was one of those gray turtleneck, Hush-Puppy, Harris Tweed type of guys with the soft handshake and the little puffs of hair over the ears and he showed me into the studio where they'd set up a long lunchroom-type table with phones on it and membership forms.
TK: Take a seat anywhere, Mr. Noir. We'll be going on the air and pledging in just a few minutes.
GK: Thanks. (FOOTSTEPS OFF) I got a cup of coffee and a doughnut and he went up to the control room behind the glass and I sat and stared at him. He waited for the record to end (PIANO, SCHUBERT-LIKE, QUIET ENDING) and then he turned on his microphone and he began to sob into it. (TK SOBBING) Tears ran down his cheeks, he put his head in his hands, his body shook, and he did that for awhile, and then he gave out the phone number, and put on another piece of music. (BEETHOVEN-LIKE VIOLIN SONATA OPENING) I got out a piece of paper and pencil and was ready to answer the phone but ---- nothing. And then another guy walked in, carrying a tool case.
(DOOR OPEN. CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS, SLOW.)
TR: What you lookin at?
GK: You here for membership week?
TR: What's it to you?
GK: Well, I thought maybe you came to the wrong place.
TR: This public radio?
GK: Yeah.
TR: Well, I'm the public. You got a problem with that?
GK: Nope. Have a seat.
TR: Don't mind if I do. (CHAIR CREAK, PAUSE, TR HUMMING, TAPPING OF FINGERS).
GK: He sat and stared at me like he'd never seen an older guy in a blue suit before. And just then (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS)....she walked in.
TR: Hey....all right.
GK: She was gorgeous, in a black sheath dress with more curves than Dwight Goodin, and a tan blazer, and a set of pins that'd resuscitate an Egyptian mummy. She sat down across the table from me and looked me in the eye and then she reached into her purse and pulled out a lipstick and mirror.
CF: (DOING LIPSTICK) Kind of quiet today.
GK: Sounds like it.
CF: I came for membership week.
GK: Same here.
CF: But the phones aren't ringing, are they. (SHE PUTS LIPSTICK CAP ON, CLOSES MIRROR, PUTS THEM BACK IN PURSE)
GK: It would appear not.
CF: My name is Duvall. Sharon Duvall.
TR: Mine is Tony, doll.
GK: Guy Noir. Pleased to meet you.
CF: Pleased to meet you. And you too, Tony.
TR: Likewise.
GK: Tony moved down the table closer to Miss Duvall. I slipped my hand under my jacket, toward the bulge in my breast pocket. It was only a sandwich, but how would he know that?
TR: So where you from, Miss Duvall?
CF: Not far from here, Tony.
TR: Oh, yeah? What kinda work you do? You a model?
CF: No --- I'd rather not say.
TR: How come?
GK: The lady doesn't care to say, mister.
TR: Oh yeah?
GK: Yeah.
TR: You got a family, Miss Duvall?
GK: She don't have to answer that if she don't want to.
TR: Who you talkin to, creep?
GK: You.
CF: Easy. He's all right. ---
GK: I'll teach you some manners, punk.
TR: Oh yeah?
GK: Yeah. You don't come out and ask a lady whom you just met if she's married or not.
TR: Oh yeah?
GK: Yeah. It ain't polite. I don't believe you listen to public radio at all.
TR: Oh yeah? I listen to it all the time.
GK: You listen to public radio? Ha! You don't talk like a public radio devotee.
TR: I do too. --- And it ain't devotee, it's devotay.
GK: Ha!
CF: I don't mind telling you, Tony. I'm not married. Not engaged. Not going with anyone right now.
GK: Okay. (PAUSE) ----Phones don't seem to be ringin. Kinda quiet. Maybe he gave out the numbers wrong.
TR: How about you and me slip out and get us some beers and have a few laughs, cutie? Huh?
GK: Listen, punk, don't force me to get rough with you.
TR: You? Get rough? Ha!
GK: You don't address a woman as "cutie," it's crude behavior, you hear me?
TR: What do you know?
GK: You don't listen to public radio, you're just a punk off the street.
TR: Oh yeah?
GK: Yeah.
CF: Hey hey hey. Easy.
TR: What do you say, doll?
CF: Take it easy.
GK: You want trouble, punk, I'll give you all you can handle.
TR: Ha!
CF: Easy.
GK: That's enough out of you, punk. What are you doin here anyway?
TR: What business is it of yours? Huh?
GK: --- Not knowing how to answer that question, I looked up in the booth as the music was ending (PIANO PIECE ENDING) and once again the announcer leaned forward and (TK SOBBING) sobbed into the microphone. He tore at his hair, he raised his hands over his head, he tore at his clothes, the tears ran down his cheeks, he blew his nose (HONK), and then he gave the telephone number again and (ANOTHER PIANO PIECE) put on some more music. I waited. Nothing.
CF: So, if the phones aren't ringing, I guess we'll just have to talk and get to know each other better, that's all.
GK: Hey, punk ---- your jacket---- what does that say?
TR: What?
GK: That logo on your pocket ---- that bell ---- are you from the phone company?
TR: So what if I am?
GK: You were called here to fix the phones, right?
TR: Yeah? So?
GK: So fix em. They're right here.
TR: Okay. How was I to know? You want me to fix em, why didn't you say so before? (HE WALKS AWAY, MUTTERING)
CF: You listen to public radio, Mr. Noir?
GK: Not every day, but often. Many days. Some days not. Most days, I do. Listen to it some. You know. When I can. It all depends.
CF: I'm making you nervous, aren't I.
GK: Yes, you are.
CF: You don't like it that my knee is touching yours, and my hand is on your thigh.
GK: I'm not complaining, Miss Duvall. It just seemed sudden, that's all.
CF: Maybe I'm a sudden sort of person.
GK: --- She looked at me like a threshing machine looks at a field of wheat, and then she took a bottle of perfume out of her purse and (TWO SPRITZES).
CF: You want to stay here and talk to a bunch of listeners? or you want to go somewhere and talk with me?
GK: She leaned forward and a wave of her perfume hit me like a wave on the shore.
CF: You a little light-headed, mister?
GK: And then I noticed the little logo on her jacket pocket---- a kangaroo holding a microphone, the symbol of Rupert Murdoch's rival network, Naked People Radio ---
CF: So you noticed.
GK: From the Murdoch organization, huh. Trying to sabotage membership week by distracting the volunteers, so you can take over these stations and convert 'em to 24-hour sleaze, huh?
CF: Darn it. Forgot to change blazers. (CLICK OF PISTOL) But this .45 ought to take care of matters. (HAMMER) Time to sign off, liberal.
GK: Oh yeah, look behind you.
(MEOW)
CF: A cat! -- How did that get in here?
GK: An attack cat, Miss Duvall. (MEOW)
CF: You win, darn it. (CLUNK OF GUN ON FLOOR)
GK: No, we all win, lady. (PHONE RING) See? There they are. (PHONE RINGS, OTHER PHONES) Those are the public radio listeners of America. They're responding. (MUSIC BUILD) One by one, in cities and towns across America, they're getting up and going to their phones. They're going to keep public radio alive, by George. Listen to em. Listen to em. (MUSIC UP) (THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, and there in the radio studio is a guy still trying to find the answers to life's questions.....Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
©1996 BY GARRISON KEILLOR