Five hundred miles through the frozen wastes of the north Renfrew hiked, until he reached the missionary who was found mad, isolated for far too long and victim of the lonesomeness of his northern post. Then began their long trek back to civilization. In his madness the missionary fought Renfrew, so he was tied down to the sled. To feed him and prevent the bonds from stopping the flow of circulation, Renfrew would release the poor fellow a few times a day, and then the man would fight with a maniac’s strength. Renfrew would have to chase him, wallowing in the snow, and drag him back to camp to feed him.
The first settlement they reached proved not to be the hoped-for haven. Renfrew, now weak from exhaustion, found the place taken over by drunken half-breeds. But the authority of the Royal Canadian Mounties could not be left in question. So, by sheer courage, he tore into the mob of hoodlums, arrested the ringleaders, and proceeded on his almost impossible journey. Finally, he reached Port Saskatchewan, where he imprisoned the half-breed outlaws and turned the lunatic over to the hospital.
The heroic deeds of the fictional Inspector Douglas Renfrew, as dictated from the imagination of Laurie York Erskine, avoided the trappings of the silver screen. The heroic exploits of the Canadian Mounties, left to Hollywood, projected the American image of the force with applied diction that “the Mounties always get their man,” complete with clean red garb and shiny brass buttons. Depending on which rendition you view, the Mounties demonstrate superb vocal talents, in their effort to serenade the white oak and rich canyons. Others received second billing below the dog, both star and hero of the picture, inspired by the popularity of Rin-Tin-Tin, leaving the actor to wonder who was paid more for their time and talent. Literary renditions, however, of which there were many, were more faithful to the legend and lore. Most authors based their character on the mythos recorded in history books.
Authors John Mackie, Harold Bindloss, James Oliver Curwood, Charles Gordon, and Gilbert Parker, among others, dramatized the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as peacekeepers who were respected among whiskey traders, trappers, and prospectors. Deceptions against the crown were punishable by law, but not before due diligence and an exchange of fisticuffs. This was embodied in the ubiquitous “get their man” cliché, that phrase coined by an American newspaper and later perpetuated by popular writers describing romantic images of the force.
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| Laurie York Erskine on radio. |
As depicted through Erskine’s printed prose, Renfrew rarely wore his uniform because most of his combatants were not killers, fur thieves, or claim jumpers; they were the roaring rapids from a spring thaw, the hidden quicksand bogs, and long treks through uncharted territory. Erskine provided feats of fury on Yukon-sized trails, rivers, mountain vistas, midnight sun, and northern lights, avoiding the Hollywood fantasy in an effort to satisfy his readers with a craving for authentic, unspoiled wilderness.
Although it has been said that Canada had no Wild West because the Mounties got there first, the truth is that before their heralded arrival Canada’s frontier was as wild as any Wild West dime novel. Native murders and whiskey traders were so common that such vandalism could never be depicted accurately on screen. Erskine made sure to apply a realistic approach with his Renfrew stories, choosing to incorporate romantic prose for the natural beauty of the Northern wilds, with nature a harsher enemy of the Canadian Mounties. Extremely well-written and highly treasured among aficionados of adventure fiction, the novels are still in demand among collectors — with greater demand for the fragile dust jackets that outlived most of the books themselves.
Following a series of short stories in American Boy magazine, and a number of published novels, Renfrew of the Mounted made a transition to radio in the mid-thirties, five days a week, and children followed his daily adventures with maps, lapel pins, and schoolbooks. Such tall tales were acceptable to parents, knowing the perils of the wilderness could only enhance survival instincts and sharpen cunning. A champion who could be looked up to was approved by social-minded guardians; the Parents and Teachers Association even voted Renfrew of the Mounted one of the top programs for children. To the millions of fiction readers who delighted in stories of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Inspector Douglas Renfrew was a favorite character — the embodiment of the adventurous spirit for which those troopers were famous. Little did they realize that the author was merely reliving his own experiences in the Canadian wilds, augmenting those from the records related in history books.
The story of the missionary driven mad was a true tale of heroism. Constable Albert Pedley’s impossible journey in 1904 did not end well. After turning the lunatic over to the hospital in Fort Saskatchewan and a long sleep, the British-born Pedley had to commute to Edmonton for dental work. The dentist gave him gas to extract an infected tooth. Not wanting to rest, Pedley set out again for his post in the north. He never reached it. Alarmed by the failure to report from Vermillion, high in the north, a search party was sent out. He was found wandering in the winter wilderness, singing snatches of songs from his native Devonshire. As Commissioner Aylesworth Bowen Perry wrote in his 1905 Annual Report, Constable Pedley “went violently insane as a result of the hardships of the trip and his anxiety for the safety of his charge.” Under the terrible strain of his achievement, Pedley’s mind had cracked. He was never to return to the north again.*
* The story of Constable Pedley was adapted into a motion-picture, The Wild North, in 1952, but it little resembled the true events.
The Renfrew novels were written and published partly out of necessity; Erskine donated the profits from his handiwork to the funding of a private boys’ school. The school needed what money Erskine could chip in — far more than it needed his presence — which kept him busy at writing, and often took him away for prolonged absences. He always came back, and everyone on campus recalled his writing always played second fiddle to his interest in the educational influences of the school. It was this financial responsibility that sustained unceasing production of Renfrew of the Mounted adventures in both short story and novel form.
Inspector Douglas Renfrew was a composite of all the brave men of the scarlet-coated Royal Mounted Canadian Police — and the fictional creation of a Battle Creek, Michigan, journalist named Laurie York Erskine, then former city editor of the Moon-Journal. (The first of the stories was written in Battle Creek, now famous not for the home of a fictional literary hero but of Kellogg’s, a breakfast cereal company.) After a series of short stories for American Boy magazine, followed by a number of Renfrew novels, the character made the transition to radio.
One afternoon in late 1935, Laurie York Erskine happened to be in New York and was determined to look up an old friend, Douglas Storer, whom he had not seen in a number of years. When the two finally met, they indulged in pleasant reminiscences for a while and then, suddenly, Storer had an idea.
One afternoon in late 1935, Laurie York Erskine happened to be in New York and was determined to look up an old friend, Douglas Storer, whom he had not seen in a number of years. When the two finally met, they indulged in pleasant reminiscences for a while and then, suddenly, Storer had an idea.
“Why don’t you put Renfrew on the radio?” he asked. Despite the fact that Blair of the Mounties was syndicated through Canada and Australia by early 1936, the program was considered a failure from a business standpoint. Storer knew about this from what he read in the trades, and from his discussions with advertising executives who were seeking program proposals for their clients.
Erskine thought about the idea for a minute, then smiled: “I might, but I don’t know how to go about it.” Storer knew of an ad agency that was seeking just such a program.
No literary author of means, Laurie York Erskine concluded, could possibly succeed without a steadfast agent to handle the business doings through representation. Douglas Storer, a radio producer, talent agent, and script writer, was responsible for introducing such luminaries to the radio listening audience as Robert L. Ripley, Dale Carnegie, Bob Considine, and Cab Calloway. From 1933 to 1949, he produced the popular Believe It or Not radio broadcasts on several networks and developed a close personal relationship with Robert L. Ripley.
Although Ripley entrusted Storer with nearly all of his business affairs, Storer later claimed that the two never signed a formal contract and that Ripley “never asked for an accounting.” It was Storer’s close association with Robert L. Ripley that convinced Laurie York Erskine to sign a contract after Christmas 1936. Though Erskine created the popular Renfrew character through literary assignments, it was Storer who knew the radio business and takes credit (at least fifty percent) for bringing Renfrew of the Mounted to the CBS airwaves.*
* While Storer succeeded in representing Erskine for the radio program and motion-pictures, their partnership was freelance on consignment beginning January 8, 1937, for one year, later renewed January 8, 1938, then for two-year renewal terms, when Storer agreed to act as “sole personal representative for the purpose of promoting and negotiating” future writing, motion-pictures, and radio assignment, in exchange for 20 percent of all profits. Renewed every two years in January 8, 1940, and January 8, 1942. (Their official partnership would eventually lead to a 50-50 arrangement years later.)
Batten, Burton, Durstine & Osborne, the advertising agency that pitched Renfrew of the Mounted to executives of the Continental Baking Company, ensured a national coast-to-coast hook-up would do better than Blair of the Mounties, which was syndicated across the country. Executives at Continental were seeking radio promotion for their product, Wonder Bread, and what was pitched to them was an adventure serial along the lines of Little Orphan Annie and Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy.*
* B.B.D.&O. handled the Continental Baking account until January 1, 1937, when Benton & Bowles took over and represented the client for Renfrew of the Mounted.
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| House Jameson as Renfrew on the radio program. |
It was Storer who negotiated on Erskine’s behalf, contacting a number of agencies in New York and Chicago, hoping one of them would be interested in pitching the idea of a daily Canadian Mountie series for one of their clients. The success of Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy prompted Arthur Pryor of B.B.D.&O. to convince their clients at the Continental Baking Company to reconsider their branding strategy. Prior to this, Continental promoted the benefits of Wonder Bread on such programs as The Happy Wonder Bakers and the daily Tatters Sports Review. Wonder Bread was popularly associated with the Little Jack Little orchestra, a favorite of Frederick Seaman, ad manager for Continental. After listening to a couple broadcasts of Jack Armstrong, Seaman found himself on the fence, proposing a test series of transcriptions to be aired over one station for a limited time, allowing the executives at Continental to measure the results and consider a coast-to-coast hookup over a major network. Negotiations between Arthur Pryor and Douglas Storer were conducted through December of 1935.
In early 1936, one 15-minute recording was created as a test series, with Laurie York Erskine delivering the narrative much like a storyteller at the campfire. “At the very beginning I wanted to tell about Renfrew’s adventures myself,” he later recalled. “I was overruled then, but I still think I was right. A good story-teller can cover as much ground and build up as much characterization and suspense in 15 minutes as a drama can in half an hour.” The executives at B.B.D.&O., however, insisted on dramatic appeal in an effort to compete against the other serials aimed toward children.
On January 6, 1936, Erskine agreed to the terms and signed a letter to that effect, for Douglas Storer to commission the agency to negotiate the time slot on a network of their choosing. A contract between the Continental Baking Company, an executive at B.B.D.&O., and Laurie York Erskine, was signed in late February, with the option of attending one rehearsal for each script written and assist in the editing as thought advisable. Radio scripts were to be copyrighted by Erskine, to assign statutory rights in both script and story, so there would be no misunderstanding between the sponsor and Erskine as to the ownership of the character. This was a smart move on Storer’s negotiating as many who created adventure serials for radio sponsors would later discover that the sponsors would claim ownership, even when the creators/authors were no longer involved.
The contract also featured a provisional clause: “In event of your death, we shall thereafter have the continued right to use, at any time or from time to time, the Renfrew characters and theme as the structural basis for such further scripts as we may, in our discretion, determine to procure from other authors that we may employ, in which case we shall pay your estate $25 with respect to each script we shall have had written and have broadcast, or $100 per week minimum should the program air five times a week.”
A similar clause was included in the contract for the Tom Mix radio program — ultimately leading to a momentary legal squabble after his death in October 1940 — referred to by many in the industry as “the Tom Mix clause.” The estate left by Mix, believed to be over $1 million, was dwindled to $115,000–$100,000 in real estate and $15,000 in personal property. Mix was once among Hollywood’s highest salaried actors, but his earnings were depleted by scores of lawsuits and settlements as a result of accidents when performing on his rodeo tours, the Internal Revenue charging him $177,000 for neglected income taxes, a part of his early earnings invested in securities which collapsed in the market crash of 1929, and the largest single outlay to his former wife. Mabel Mix, his widow, arranged for a court appeal for an allowance of $400 or $500 per month while the attorney for the estate insisted that it was the actor’s decision to split the entire estate equally among her and his daughter, Thomasina. Weeks after his passing, the ex-wife came out of the woodwork with a $50,000 promissory note; his widow asked the court to name a new executor for the estate, and on May of 1941 the actor’s possessions were auctioned off — including Tony the Second, his horse. Ultimately it was agreed that all three parties (ex-wife, widow, and daughter) would share equal ownership in the estate.
The radio program was the next to fall victim to materialism when Ralston stopped sponsoring the program, and a representative from the estate asked the advertising agency not to renew the adventure serial for an additional season unless a higher fee was paid to the estate. Mix himself never appeared on the radio broadcasts. His voice was damaged by a bullet to the throat and repeated broken noses from stunt work during productions of his movies, so he licensed the use of his name under contract; the character of Tom Mix was played by radio actors. Continued use of Tom Mix’s name was considered “unauthorized,” according to a representative of the estate, but the original contract was upheld in a court of law. Hence the clause similar to that in Erskine’s contract was referred to as “the Tom Mix clause.”
Another agreement in Erskine’s contract stipulated that the sponsor was granted permission to produce a book edition of Renfrew of the Mounted, to sell at low-unit cost for mass circulation, referred to as a “giveaway premium,” created to gauge the size of the listening audience for consideration of sponsorship renewal. The radio sponsor also retained the rights to syndicating a newspaper strip of Renfrew (non-commercial) in newspapers to promote the radio program. Erskine also signed over motion-picture and stage productions intended for trade, industrial, and advertising purposes. This also included the use of electrical transcription discs. Erskine signed the contract, even thought he was against the use of radio premiums, believing such gimmicks would diminish the value proposition for his franchise.
In consideration for accepting the use of radio premiums, Erskine’s salary would go up $100 per week after the first 13 weeks, and another $100 per week beginning with week forty. Beginning with the one-year anniversary of the program’s premiere, Erskine would receive an additional pay raise at the following scale: After first 52 weeks, $715 per 5-week. After the first 104 weeks, $780 per 5-week. Erskine’s salary was not to exceed $800 per week (3-week program), $920 per week (4-week program) and $1,040 per week (5-week program) if and when his salary rose to that level. Should Erskine become mentally or physically incapacitated to the extent that he was unable to perform the task, the advertising agency had the right to employ someone to write the scripts and Erskine would be paid $100 per week, with statutory copyright in such scripts in the name of the agency.
The agency granted Erskine complete freedom to plot his scripts, without interference, except for two requests. The first was to incorporate both a boy and girl in recurring roles so the young listeners could associate. The second was a plot line that involved a lengthy trek through the Canadian wilds, so a giveaway premium could be incorporated (a map that listeners could mark along the way). Because the Canadian Mounted Police had a strict code, it was not possible to do a series based strictly on their files because no dramatic license would be allowed. With the exception of character names from his published novels, Erskine wrote original material for most of the 1936–1937 program. Like many of the novels, some of the lengthy story arcs paused momentarily (usually for one week from Monday to Friday) for Renfrew to recount a thrilling adventure to David and/or Carol, before returning to the lengthy trail they were then traveling. (For the 1939–1940 half-hour series, Erskine recycled much from his short stories and novels, which were loosely based on true cases from the annals of the Canadian Mounted.)
