Original subtitles

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 ]