SHOW 3: BEGINNING, TOWER SKETCH AND EARLING IN TAXI

DOUG:	It's 10:35 NF Standard Time.  Stay tuned for the Great 
	Eastern: Newfoundland's Cultural Magazine, with Paul Moth.
	
	You are listening to the Broadcasting Corporation of 
	Newfoundland, 520 on the long wave.

MUSIC:	VAMP BEGINS.

DOUG:	(OVER VAMP) This week on the Great Eastern:

CLIPS, THEME IN AND PAUL'S BILLBOARD OVER THEME.  THEME OUT.

PAUL:	Good Morning, peoples of Canada, and bonjour Nfld, gudin 
	daginn Iceland, je m'appelle Paul Moth.  This week on The 
	Great Eastern, out and about in St. John's: a trek up Mt. 
	Scio to see the past become the future; a rare invite to the 
	exclusive Javelin Crescent enclave; an excursion or two on 
	a ship simulator; and a spin in orbit 'round the earth on a 
	communications satellite.  All this for you, on Nfld's Cultural 
	Magazine, the Great Eastern.

	Just after Wednesday's 6:00 a.m. station sign-on, the BCN's 
	stalwart signal was interrupted for eighteen minutes. Though 
	the dead air distressed few ears, word does get around in 
	this town.  And since this was the first interruption of service 
	in sixty proud years of the BCN, rumours quickly began to 
	circulate.  About a CRTC suspension, cutbacks to our 
	operating grant, and other such dark possibilities.  
	Unfortunately the answer to the mystery, more simple than 
	that, lies within my own head.
	
	The historic, coal-fired transmission tower of the BCN has 
	entered its final days.  Decommissioning and demolition of 
	that elegant art-deco steel-beam and cable tracery will 
	commence immediately upon erection of our new, highly 
	efficient, yet ... somehow ... artless, communications array.  
	Last Wednesday morning, I decided to pay homage to the 
	passing of an era in Newfoundland broadcasting by making 
	a dawn visit to the transmitter station that overlooks the city.
	
SFX:	INTERIOR TAXI.  LEAVES PAVED ROAD FOR GRAVEL. 
	STOPS

HACK:	That's six dollars and forty cents.

PAUL:	What's the problem ?

HACK:	I'm not taking the car up there.  The smoke from the 
	generator'll strip the paint right off 'er.  
	
PAUL:	Keep the change.

SFX:	PAUL EXITING TAXI, DOOR CLOSE, TAXI ROARS OFF

PAUL:	(climbing steep hill)  From here you can just make out the 
	top of the giant rabbit ears, the old BCN broadcast tower, 
	but there's evidence of coal powered radio all around.  The 
	woods are cloaked in heavy soot, the air is acrid, listen!  
	Listen!  That deep rumbling is water from Less Bottom Pond 
	coming through the big pipe heading to the steam engines!  
	Let's hurry!  They're about to start broadcasting.
	
SFX:	PAUL RUNNING UP GRAVEL COVERED HILL, HEAVY 
	BREATHING

PAUL:	THERE IT IS!  It's beautiful.  And there, look, the stokers, 
	the men at the very heart of the BCN, the big men from Bell 
	Island who feed the insatiable furnace with the coal that 
	creates the steam that spins the turbine that becomes the 
	electricity that is the very radio waves you are now listening 
	to.  HAIL GOOD STOKERS.  Alas, irony of ironies, these 
	great men of radio cannot hear me, for years of working 
	cheek to jowl with the mighty generator have left them stone 
	deaf.  

ARI:	PAUL!  Up here!  Come up to zee Tower.

PAUL:	And there's BCN's grand old man of the long waves, head of 
	engineering, Ari Uldmanis.  COMING UP ARI!

SFX:	INTERIOR.  BASE OF TOWER.  WEIRD, KIDNEY 
	JANGLING ELECTRONIC NOISES, ARE ABOUT.  ALSO 
	OCCASIONAL VAN DER GRAAF GENERATORS ETC.

PAUL:	What a morning, Ari.

ARI:	Every morning is what a morning, Paul Moth.

PAUL:	These must be sad days for you?

ARI:	Well, as Mr. Lundrigan says ... we must move with the 
	times.

PAUL:	What will you do when the tower is finally demolished?

ARI:	I am near retirement in any event. For years I vas planning 
	on going back to Latvia but now, vith death so close ... I 
	don't know ... perhaps some time at the BCN radio 
	laboratory.  Then again maybe I will live out my last years in 
	bitter loneliness here in the wonderful city of legends.
	
PAUL:	God, Ari I don't ....

ARI:	Let's not be blue today, Paul Moth, host of zee Great 
	Eastern.  Let us celebrate radio broadcasting.  Let us 
	summon Marconi from the ether !  COME ON PAUL!  
	FOLLOW ME!  UP THE TOWER!
	
PAUL:	Ari Uldmanis!  I'm right behind you, man !

SFX:	INTENSE GUSTS OF WIND.  METAL BENDS AND 
	WHINES UNDER THE STRAIN.  CLIMBING FEET ARE 
	HEARD SEARCHING FOR THE RUNGS OF A FRAIL 
	METAL LADDER

PAUL:	(shitbaked) IT'S SO MUCH HIGHER THAN I IMAGINED.

ARI:	(laughing) You can almost see Riga from here.

PAUL:	Look someone driving up to the Tower, in the BCN van.

ARI:	Veather Vatchdog Earling Biggs, he comes in for sign on 
every morning.

PAUL:	I never knew that ...  He looks so small from up here, like a 
	bug.
	
ARI:	The Earling Bird catches ze worm.

SFX:	GROWLING MOTORS

ARI:	IT BEGINS.  THE ELECTRICITY !  COME TO ME !

PAUL:	Hurry, Earling !

ARI:	STOKERS CLEAR THE PULSE.  EARLING THROWS 
	THE SWITCH AND RACES TO HIS MICROPHONE !

PAUL:	3 ... 2 ... 1

SFX:	HITHERTO UNKNOWN SOUNDS OF THE FIBRE OF 
	THE UNIVERSE BEING TORN BY A VENGEFUL GOD 
	FOLLOWED BY PAUL'S SUDDENLY MAGNETIZED 
	HEAD COLLIDING WITH THE TOWER: WHANG !

ARI:	ON AIR! FEEL THE RADIO WAVES!

NOTE:	AS PAUL SPEAKS THE SIGN ON, ODE TO NF COMES 
	THROUGH HIS OPEN MOUTH

PAUL\ODE:	MY HEAD!  IT'S STUCK!

ARI:	What ... do you have metal in your head?

PAUL:	THERE'S A ... THERE'S A PLATE IN MY HEAD!

ARI:	Your skull has become magnetized.

PAUL:	Help me, Ari.

ARI:	We'll have to stop the broadcasting.

PAUL:	Please, Ari !

ARI:	(voice disappearing) I'll be back. Hold on tight.  The wave 
	warping when we power down will throw you from the tower.

PAUL:	THROW ME FROM THE TOWER?

ARI:	HOLD ON PAUL OR YOU WILL BE KILLED!

CUT TO:	LATER -  EARLING'S CAR

PAUL:	Thank's for the lift, Earling.  

EARLING:	How's your head?

PAUL:	Still throbbing.

EARLING:	How'd you end up with a metal plate in your head?

PAUL:	It was a long time ago ... In Los Angeles ... a stand-off with 
	the cops ... I don't blame anyone.  Doctor's say it's a miracle 
	there wasn't more tissue damage, I still have ... you know ... 
	some memory disturbances but otherwise...  
	
EARLING:	Sorry I asked.

PAUL:	I had no idea you did the sign-on from here ... every 
	morning.

EARLING:	The shift gives me time to write ... in the afternoons.

PAUL:	You write ?  What kind of stuff ?

EARLING:	(through clenched teeth)  Novels.

SFX:	Car tires screeching around corner.

PAUL:	Anything ... published ?

EARLING:	Oh ya.  Published alright, short-listed for a couple of awards.

PAUL:	Jeez, Earling, I feel bad that I didn't know this.  Can I get any 
	of your books in town ?

EARLING:	No, you have to order them in bulk.

PAUL:	Oh ... sorry ... remaindered ?

EARLING:	No, Paul.  They're sold by the half ton, as fuel or ballast.

PAUL:	What got you writing ?

EARLING:	I had a riddle published in the Reader's Digest and after 
	seeing my name in print I was bitten by the bug.

PAUL:	No, really.

EARLING:	I don't like to talk about it.  

SFX:	CASSETTE FUMBLING

	You understand Finnish, Paul ?

PAUL:	No.  What do you have there ?

EARLING:	It's my brother's girlfriend's band.  Varttina.

MUSIC/SFX:	MUSIC CRANKED UP ON TAPE DECK AS 
	SCREECHING TIRES ONCE MORE