All language subtitles for Death.Valley.Days.S05E07.The.Last.Letter.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-bigworm_track3_[eng]

THE OLD RANGER:
And now,Death Valley Days.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]

Hyah! Yah!

Yah! Yah!

Howdy, folks.
I'’m the Old Ranger,

and I have another
interesting true story for you

about the historic
Death Valley country.

This letter that I'’m holding
in my hand

bears the postmark
of Portland, Maine,

March 3, 1849.

It traveled by sailing vessel
around the Horn

and arrived in San Francisco
in early July,

just three months
after it was mailed.

And it'’s the basis
of my story...

The letter was delivered
to the San Francisco
Post Office,

which, at that time,
was a one-room shanty
on Clay Street,

down near the waterfront.

In charge,
a postmaster Jacob Moore,

and a mighty
harassed man is he.

What are you going to do
with mail like this?

"James Bisbee, Esq.,
care of the Gold Rush."

"Jedediah Clark,
the Diggings, California."

Could be anywhere
within hundreds of miles.

Now, here'’s one
just addressed to "Father,

care of Postmaster,
San Francisco."

We'’ve got thousands of them.

Just look at that pile.
All unclaimed,

and the men they'’re written to
just longing for mail,

hungry for news from home.

Oh, I wish there were
some way of delivering them.

Now that I'’ve wrote my wife
about my good luck,

how am I gonna get
the letter mailed?

Give it to the post office
in San Francisco.

You know how long it'’d take me
to go all the way down there
and back?

Long enough for somebody else
to come along
and jump your claim.

You'’re dead right.

I can'’t afford
to leave them diggings.

I do want her to hear.
It'’d set her mind at rest.

I'’ll mail it for you.

You going down
to Frisco, Alex?

Yeah. I'’ve decided
I'’m not cut out for mining.
Gonna get me a job.

Well, thank you, Alex,
and good luck to you.

Say, when you mail his letter,
would you mail this one for me?

It'’s for my girl
back in Brattleboro.

Sure.

Mind adding this
to your collection, Alex?

Have a drink on the house.Thanks.

Me girl promised to write me
once a week.

Probably all her letters
are piled up in the post office
down in San Francisco.

Yeah.

Say...

if you run into
anybody in Frisco
who'’s coming up this way,

tell '’em to bring 'em
along to me, will you?

Reuben Bennett,
Mokelumne Hill.

Yeah, and any mail
for Henry Conklin too.

And Samuel Osgood.

I'’ll be glad to pay him.So will I.

You give me an idea.

Suppose I undertake
to fetch your mail up here
to the mines for you,

not just this once,
but regularly?

Regular?There'’s a mail steamer
once a month.

I'’ll be on hand,
collect your letters

from the post office,
and deliver '’em.

And, of course,
carry mail down for you.

A postal service.

Anybody who wants to subscribe,
pays... a dollar.

That'’s fair enough.Well, sure.

Yeah.

Plus a charge.

An ounce of gold
for each letter delivered.

An ounce?
Squeakin'’ jiminy!

That'’s about $16!

Aren'’t your girl's letters
worth that much to you?

Uh, sure, but-- but--

$16 per letter
is mighty steep, Alex.

You'’re making as much
as $100 a day,
some of you.

Well, even so,
an ounce of gold?

But look what
you get in return.

The assurance
of receiving mail from home
regularly and promptly.

And I mean assurance.
Any letters entrusted to me
I guarantee to deliver.

I'’ll be at the Bay
when every ship comes in,

pay the postage on your letters,
get '’em back up here
to the mines

as fast as riverboat
and mule can carry me.

Bring you letters from
your wives and children,
your mothers,

your sweethearts,
all the news from home.

I'’ll subscribe.You can put my name down.

Here'’s me dollar.
I'’ve gotta find out
if she'’s true to me.

A drink to the mailman
of Mokelumne Hill.

Yeah!Not just Mokelumne Hill.

I'’m gonna sign up folks
in all the diggings.

Every camp, every creek bed
from here to Sonora!

To Alex Todd,
the first postman
of California.

[ Men cheer ]

Howdy. Todd'’s Postal Service
at your service.

I mail letters
for my subscribers
and deliver letters to '’em.

No, thanks.Only cost you a dollar to join.

I'’m not expecting
any letters.

Any mail that I contract for,
you can count
on getting through.

I said I'’m not
expecting anything.

That'’s too bad.
Folks don'’t know
how to reach you, huh?

I haven'’t got any folks.

Everybody'’s got someone.

Well, I haven'’t.

My mother died,
and I came out here
to join this Gold Rush.

And for all anyone
back there'’s concerned,
I might as well be dead.

You might write a letter
and relieve their minds.

Not that I'’m trying
to boost my business.

How about it, brother?Don'’t you call me "brother."

My name is John Lucas.

For the last time,
I don'’t want your mail service.

Well, if you ever
change your mind,

I'’ll be coming through this way
every couple of weeks
from now on.

Why the heck would Uncle Albion
wanna hear from me anyway?

Nothing but a hard-luck story.

[ steamboat whistle blaring ]

Hey, boy, give me a hand
with these saddle bags.

[ whistle blaring ]

Hurry up. Hurry up.
I'’ve gotta catch that steamer.

Boy, you sure
struck it rich, mister.

That'’s not dust.
It'’s mail.

Mail?Letters.

But they'’re worth
their weight in gold.Watcha gonna do with '’em?

Take '’em down
to the post office
in San Francisco.

Take care of my mules
till I get back.

Well, when will
that be, sir?

Return steamer.
Todd'’s my name. Alex Todd.

Oh, Mr. Todd.

Will you mail
a letter for me? [ horn blaring ]

It'’s for a girl
back in Kentucky.

She'’ll get it.

Thanks a heap, sir.

[ whistle blaring ]

Good morning.I'’m busy.

What do you want?Mail.

You can'’t barge
in here like this.

Go out front
and wait your turn.You'’re Postmaster Moore?

Now, look, there'’s a line
a mile long outside.

Those men have been waiting
all night in the rain.

Just waiting for me
to sort this mail.But I'’m a postman, sir.

Now, another steamer
has just arrived,

and-- and--
and-- and-- and...

A postman!

I'’ve got a list
of nearly 500 names here--

men at the mines
I'’ve agreed to fetch mail for.

Five hundred names?

Maybe I can give you a hand,
help you sort out their letters.

Can you? Can you?

If you can get rid
of some of the stuff
that'’s piled up here,

I'’ll be
everlastingly grateful.

Where'’s your
unclaimed mail, sir?Right here.

I'’ll tackle this first.Uh, there'’s postage due.

Forty cents a letter. I'’ll pay it

and collect
from my customers.

Here'’s a name on my list,
first crack out of the box.

Now, wait a minute.

If you'’re gonna be allowed
to handle mail,

I guess you ought be sworn in
as a postal clerk.

All right.
Go ahead and swear me.

Hold up your right hand.

What'’s your name?Alexander Todd.

I, Alexander Todd,
do solemnly swear

that I will support
and defend the Constitution
of the United States,

and that I will
well and faithfully
discharge the duties

of the office
on which I'’m about to enter,

so help me God.So help me.

Good. Now go ahead
and pitch into that pile.

Yes, sir!

[ chattering ]

What'’s that over there?

You got any for me?

ALEX:
Stand back. Stand back, men.
One at a time.

Have your gold dust ready.

Two letters for Henry Conklin
from Buffalo, New York.

My wife,
Lord love her!

ALEX:
$32 plus postage. All right.

MAN:
Ah, here we go.

[ chatter, chuckling ]

That does it, Henry.

[ laughing ]

How about me, Alex?What about me girl?

What about me girl?
Any word from Brattleboro?

Uh, Reuben Bennett?

Only ten letters.

Saints be praised!
I knew she was true to me.

Ah, just a minute.
$160, please,

plus postage.

Oh, me gold'’s tied up
in a bandana inside me shirt.

Well, get it out
and untie it.

Oh, Alex, Alex...

Anything for me, Alex?

I'’m sorry, Sam.

But I did bring
some newspapers.

Let'’s see. Here's, um...
Here'’s the New York Herald.

Let me have it.It'’ll cost you $8.

Eight dollars?

This is a New York paper,
remember?

With all the news
of the world in it.

Look at that date.
"June the 11th, 1849."

It'’s only two months old.

All right.
I'’ll buy it.

Here'’s me dust.
Now give me my letters.

After I'’ve weighed it.

Hey!

She'’s marrying a grocery clerk
in Bellows Falls.

Here.

Here. Give me me money back.
I don'’t want the rest
of these letters.

What I tote, you pay for.

But she'’s given me the gate.
I'’ve been jilted.

Oh, that'’s too bad.

Oh, it'’s a dark day
in Ireland

when I put all me trust
in a woman.

Well, I guess that does it
for this trip.

Better luck next time.

I didn'’t sign up.

You'’re that young fella
from Columbia.

Haven'’t you got
a good memory for faces.

Give me time,
I'’ll recall your name.

Don'’t bother.

I'’ve still got a newspaper
I haven'’t sold.

But I haven'’t got $8.

You can read mine
when I'’m finished with it.

Oh, for how much?

For free.

Thanks.

Well, folks,
I'’ve made my trial run.

From now on,
I'’ll be operating
on a regular schedule.

Any letters you want mailed,
have here first thing
in the morning

when I start down
for San Francisco again.

That'’s him there, sir.

Thanks.

Mr. Todd, my name is Bell.

Storekeeper here in Stockton.Howdy.

Understand you run
an express service
down to the Bay.

Well, I carry mail.Would you take
some packages?

How many? And how big?

Well, mine
is about this size.

There'’s several others
for other merchants.

Heavy?Quite.

What'’s the value?

$220,000.

[ whistles ]

There is no place in Stockton
to keep gold safe.

A canvas Shacktown.

But we'’re anxious
to get it to San Francisco,

in the hands
of Lord & Co. Bankers,
as quickly as possible.

I'’ll deliver it.How much will you charge?

Five percent.

Five percent...

Well, that'’s $11,000.Right.

It'’ll be worth it
for a man we can trust.

Where shall I pick it up?At my store,
just before steamer time.

Oh. How is it packed?

In boxes.

Boxes?

No, they'’d never
fit in there.

Have you got
a couple butter kegs?

Butter kegs? Sure.

We'’ll pack it in them.

Nobody'’ll ever suspect
they'’re full of gold.

Now, that'’s what I call
a smart idea.

♪♪ [ accordion ] [ chattering ]

♪♪ [ continues ]

Hello.

What are you doing here
all by yourself?

Oh, nothing.

Didn'’t your mother
ever teach you to stand up
in the presence of a lady?

I beg your pardon.How about a dance, handsome?

Make all the others jealous.Well...

I'’m sorry.

What'’s the matter,
you got a wooden leg?

No, it--It'’s just because
you don'’t want to, is that it?

You can sit on your--
your butter keg and rot.

♪♪ [ continues ]

[ breathing heavily ]

Delivered... as guaranteed.

[ chuckles ]
Safe in the hands of the Lord.

How much mail
do you figure you'’ve carried
in the last six months, Alex?

I'’ve been averaging
a thousand dollars'’ worth a day.

Thousand dollars?For months now.

Holy catfish!

[ mutters ]
I'’ve got
over 500 subscribers.

Carrying anywheres from
1,500 to 2,000 letters
every trip,

at $16 apiece.

And you'’ve been doing this
all alone?

You need an assistant.

I'’m taking on a partner
soon as I get back
to Mokelumne Hill.

Then I'’m going to arrange
for agents all along the line,
hire a messenger.

You talk about your Gold Rush,
Mr. Moore.

Oh-ho! The mail rush
has it beat a mile.

Mail!

[ Men laughing ]

Mail'’s here!

Reuben Bennett.Reuben Bennett.

What'’s the excitement?

Oh, hello, Alex.What'’s this fellow selling?

I'’m taking subscriptions
for the new mail service.

What?

Bill Ballou'’s my name.
I meet all incoming steamers

at San Francisco,
collect the mail,
pay the postage,

and deliver it up here
to you in the mines within
a week after it'’s landed,

for the small price
of $4 per letter,
quarter of an ounce of gold.

This small thimble full.
Put you down, sir?

Me?

Just give me a name,
and I'’ll add it to the list.

My name is Alexander H. Todd.

Alexander H....

Oh. So you'’re the fella.

Yeah. I'’m him.

And these folks
are my customers.

At least they were.

Gee, I-I-I'’m sorry,
Alex, but, uh...

It'’s not that
we'’re ungrateful.

You'’ve been
a godsend to us, Alex.

Sure. But when a fella
can get the same service
for a quarter of the price--

Sure. I know, I know.You can'’t blame me,
Mr. Todd.

I'’m not blaming you.

The wonder to me is
nobody horned in sooner.

Well, if you'’d just
lower your price, Alex.

Why, sure. There'’s enough
business for two of ya.

Then a third man
will come along,
and a fourth.

Someday they'’ll be delivering
letters here for two bits.

I would be a bit surprised.

I won'’t be delivering them.
No, sir.

I'’m moving on.
MAN:
Where to?

Someplace where
it'’s not so crowded.

Where there'’s
new trails to blaze.

Where they'’ve got
no postmen.

Well, come on.
Get it.

My last delivery.[ chattering ]

Got anything for me
this time, Alex?

I don'’t know.
We'’ll see.

Say...

I just wanted
to say good-bye,
and I'’m sorry.

Sorry?
Nothing to be sorry for.

I know what it'’s like

to have the props knocked out
from under you like this.

Listen, I'’m not complaining.

I'’ve cleaned up
a fortune here.

I wish I could say the same.

Lady Luck still
leading your chase?

I'’m moving over
to Whiskey Slide,
and gonna give it one last try.

I'’m heading north
for Oregon.

There'’s a wagon train
leaving Sacramento tomorrow.

I'’ll just have time
to make it if I hurry.

What are you gonna do up there?Oh, start a mail
and express route.

Well, you'’ll succeed.
Men like you always do.

Well, if our paths
don'’t cross again, good luck.

Let'’s go. Come on.

Must'’ve got stuck
in the bottom of the bag.

"Mr. John Lucas,

care of the Postmaster,
San Francisco."

Lucas. Lucas...

That'’s that
young down-and-outer.

[ scoffs ]
He isn'’t even on my list.

[ sighs ]

[ reading ]

Somebody'’s dead.

All the more reason
for not delivering it to him.

Well, heck.

Only take a minute
to drop by the saloon.

[ sighs ]

He'’s left already.
Pulled outta here last night.

Aw, doggone it!

Forget it.I feel responsible.

Why? He wasn'’t
one of your subscribers.

No, but the letter got
in my bag somehow,
and I always deliver.

You mean, you did.
But you'’re all through here now.

Heading for Oregon,
you said.

I'’ll never connect
with that wagon train now.

What are you gonna do?

Ride over to Whiskey Slide
and deliver this letter.

Don'’t be a fool.

You say he might'’ve pushed
on down to Poverty Flats?

I'’ll try and catch up
with him there. Thanks.

Nobody by that description
down here?

Well, thanks.

Well, thanks. I just thought
he might'’ve stopped by here.

Good-bye.

[ sighs ]
It'’s like looking for a needle
in a haystack.

I'’ve just wasted
a lot of time.

For all you know,
he may be dead.Yeah.

Well, if he is,
then there'’s his ghost.

John! John Lucas!

I'’ve been looking
everywhere for you.

I'’ve got a letter here.

Well, if you want me
to take it San Francisco
for you, I will.

I'’m quitting the mines.No, it'’s for you.

For me?

I found it stuck
in the bottom of my mailbag.

I was afraid it was bad news.
Give him a drink, on me.

Letters from lawyers
are always a shock.

Read it.

"This is to notify you
of the death

of your uncle, Albion Scott."

That'’s too bad.

"His entire state of two--
two mill"--

He'’s left you
two million dollars!

Yeah, read the rest of it.

"Unless this bequest
is claimed within
one year from date,

the money will be
given to the Fund
for Indigent Octogenarians."

When was this letter written?

"March 3, 1849."

And this is January 26, 1850.

That letter'’s been sitting
in a San Francisco post office
since early last summer.

Oh, my gosh!

If I'’d have spent $1
on your mail service,
but I didn'’t,

and now it'’s gonna cost me
two million dollars.

I'’m gonna need
another drink.

January 26, March 3.

You'’ve got a little
over five weeks.

I can'’t make it from California
to Maine in that length of time.

You can get as far as Illinois
in one month.

Then take a train from there
to Buffalo.

And in Buffalo,
they have a telegraph,
I understand.

You'’ll have to start
right away.

Take my mule and trade him in
for a horse when you hit
the Overland Trail.

You'’ll need some money.
Here.

I-I'’ll pay you back.

You'’re darn right you will,
you millionaire,
at ten percent interest.

Now get going.
Oh, wait a minute.
Here'’s your letter.

You don'’t wanna forget this.

Oh, no.

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Well, now I can quit.

I'’ve delivered my last letter.

[ laughter ]

[ whack ]

And, of course,
you wanna know

if John made it home
to Portland, Maine,

in time to meet the deadline
of March 3, 1850.

He sure did,

thanks to the reliability
of Alex Todd,

California'’s first postman.

♪♪ [ trumpet ]