Bow-Wow and Barley!

By Jack Keil

THE SMALL HOUSE HALFWAY UP IN THE NEXT BLOCK: PAUL RHYMER'S "VIC AND SADE" Edited by MARY FRANCES RHYMER 301 pages. McGraw-Hill. $9.50.

More than 30 years ago, TIME noted that "7,000,000 radio fans would find life harder to bear without Vic and Sade." Now, for all of us who regularly turned to the RCA Little Nipper or Philco Super Heterodyne ("No stoop, no squat, no squint"), it is time for nostalgic celebration. Vic, Sade and Rush Gook are back, along with Uncle Fletcher, Blue Tooth Johnson, Mr. Gumpox, and all those great everyday people who lived somewhere west of Dismal Seepage, Ohio, and east of Sweet Esther, Wis. As for the young, who may have wondered about cryptic Vic and Sadisms that still crop up in their elders' talk, here at last is a chance to sample the real stuff. Mary Frances Rhymer, the author's widow, has lovingly selected 30 of Paul Rhymer's "as broadcast" scripts from the 3,500 Vic and Sade programs offered between 1932 and the last show in 1945.

There is a preface by Ray Bradbury, and some glossy prints of the original cast. But the old scripts are the heart of the book. This is no retrospective interpretation of Vic and Sade. The characters are presented just as they were--gentle, funny, low-key and as timeless as the telephone poles on U.S. 20.

Flip through these pages and it's 1938. The maple leaves whisper outside the bedroom window and the algebra book is lying unopened on the desk. The Emerson table radio is tuned to WGR, Buffalo, as the announcer asks you to join him in "the small house halfway up in the next block" and the voice of Vic comes through the speaker greeting his son Rush: "Hi de hi, ho de ho, ink stopper."

At least, after a while. The actual scripts encountered in print, 40 years on, at first are not as remembered. Those once lovingly familiar colloquialisms don't exactly jump from the page. A moment of panic sets in. Can this be all? Is memory playing tricks? Most Vic and Sade fans remember only the high spots and forget the in-between. But the real pleasure of the book is that the reader consults the scripts in search of past delights and finds a newer, steadier enjoyment. All the programs are skillfully written, paced and plotted. Each one is a mirror of small-town life and conversation. Then remembered gems begin to appear. Sheer delight--like the first time Vic refers to Sade as "Dr. Streech." Or when Vic comments on a letter from Sade's sister Bess:

Sade (quoting from letter): ". . . I expect Vic is having big times at his office."

Vic (chuckles): Oh, boy.

Sade: What?

Vic: Next time you write, assure her that I am having big times at the office. I put roses in my hair and dance barefoot the whole day through.

Sade (gently): Smartness, huh?

Vic (chuckles): What's she think I do at my office--sing songs and eat grapes?

Sade (gently): All right. I'll put the letter away.

To those who have never been addicted, this sort of thing may sound like olw-camp, soft-shoe style, particularly when the words are deprived of the deep adenoidal torque that Art Van Harvey, as Vic, used to put on them. But a true believer can be reduced to the helpless laughter of a hyena in a feather factory by some scenes. At one point, Vic is memorizing the opening ritual for his lodge meeting. Rush is checking and prompting him from a copy made by Miss Gregg, Vic's secretary. The following exchange takes place:

Vic: . . . The heroes have returned from the fray an' will shortly squat before the campfire to pow-wow an' parley.

Rush: Bow-wow and barley.

Vic: What?

Rush: It's bow-wow an' barley.

Vic: It is not.

Rush: It is too. Look right here on the--

Vic: Miss Gregg made a typographical error. She copied this off on her machine an' did it in a rush an' there's several mistakes you'll run across. Use your head, pipecleaner. One doesn't squat before the campfire to bow-wow and barley. One squats before the campfire to pow-wow an' parley.

Rush: I don't do either one.

On second thought, maybe those who aren't Vic and Sade fans should stay away. The rest of us, though, may soon find ourselves referring to our offspring as "dust mop" and "down-spout," or walking through the front door at home with a soft "Hi de hi, ho de ho." . Jack Keil

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