Good evening and welcome to Night's Gallery. Thank you, Rod, and I
want to welcome everyone to Midnight Viewing, where once a month we talk all
about your follow up to the Twilight Zone, Rod Serling's Night Gallery. They
say it's Rod through Ling's Night Gallery, and it isn't really Rod through Las
Night Gallery. It's somebody else's. Oh we know, we talk about it
a lot. Your curators at Midnight Viewing are the projection booths. Mike White.
What can happen to human beings when trust is wiped out by suspicion and
culture casts? Chris Stashue, small boy incased in the Crystal Ball, and
I'm father Malone, the kind of thing that usually infest nightmares, joined us
monthly at Midnight Viewing. The Night Gallery podcast at weird Ingwaymedia dot Com doesn't
remotely belong to me. I have no proprietary interest in that at all.
Weird Welcome to Dark Destinations, an ongoing investigation into the shadowy corners of the
globe, where our haunted past meets our startling future. A dream is a
wish your heart makes, so, sang Eileen Woods as Cinderella in the eponymous
nineteen fifty film. That's not the only wishing we want. Disney Company encouraged
in Pinocchio. We were told it when you wish upon a star, those
dreams come true. Have you ever made a wish? Silly question? Of
course we all have, whether it be what the old Twilight Zone called a
big, tall wish destined to change your entire world, or as casually as
responding to a proposal with I wish. A wish can set gears in motion,
but propel a simple need into a welcome reality. Back in the nineteen
twenties, a fellow named Otto Roewetter, no doubt, wished for a loaf
of bread that was already sliced. Thanks to that spark and his determination to
see it through, an unsliced loaf is now the exception and not the rule.
You can ritualize them tossing a coin and a fountain, whispering it into
a well. We'll just shut your eyes and want with all your might.
Wishes for a long life, wishes for a different life, for true love,
for a shotted glory. If you were to stop and ponder how often
you make a wish, you'd be startled. There have been cautionary tales about
them. Malevolent genies and cursed monkey's paws come to mind, but we all
know deep down we'd succeed where others fail, or would we. Greetings and
welcome to you all. My name's Joseph Hooks Faughther them alone at Dark Destinations
has tasked me with investigating a town that knows full well the measure of wishing
both good and ill, and have done so during a season that seems as
if it were designed for wishes. Christmas. So join me if you wish,
on our journey to a sleepy hamlet nestled near the finger Lakes of upstate
New York, Bedford Falls. Here on Genesee Street, downtown Bedford Falls,
the light poles are already forestooned with glittering, sparkling Christmas decorations. The trees
that bisank Genesee, running in a row single file where a double yellow line
would be in most main streets, have been each wrapped in hundreds of multi
colored bulbs. They're lit up now, even though by my watch it's only
two in the anon. The sprawl and urban decay that have set in in
most small town America is absent here. Sure, there's a Starbucks on the
corner of Washington Street, where an old department store used to reside, and
the stoplights burned with LEDs instead of incandescent bulbs. But not much has changed
here in the past century. Snap a picture anywhere in town and you could
sell it as a postcard demonstrating how Americana and Christmas are meant to appear,
and they do. Postcards of this winter wonderland can be purchased at amadas price
inside Goowner's Pharmacy, an institution that's been in operation since the turn of the
last century. My granddad used to work here. He swept up and ran
errands. He even made phosphaiths of the soda fountain, which you can see
is still an operation. You should try the limericky. It's so good.
That's Louise Bailey, though everyone calls her Lulu, discussing her grandfather George.
We met inside Gower's Pharmacy, where I can safely concur that the lime rickey
is delicious, to discuss her grandfather's curious interaction some eighty years ago. Now,
it was your grandfather that really brought the concept of wishing to reality.
It started with him. Correct, let's say he popularized it. What were
the circumstances? I understand it happened on Christmas Eve, that's right, Christmas
Eve nineteen forty seven. My granddad was going through a rough patch. His
family was getting bigger, there were some bad business deals, financial woe,
and on that Christmas Eve there was from what I understand, a real possibility
of arrest, if not imprisonment. He ended up on the old toll bridge
intending to well, you know, there are conflicting accounts about what happened next,
but the consensus is that he pulled a man who was drowning out of
the canal. His name was Clarence the Drowning Man, and he was with
my granddad when he made his wish. He wished had never been worn,
and his wish was granted. He got a vision of what the world would
be like without him, and he said that it was so horrible that he
begged to have his life back, which was also granted to him. A
lot of people didn't believe him, of course, my grandmother in particular,
thought he had just one too many bourbons over at Martini's and dreamt the whole
thing. But my mother never had any doubt that he was telling the truth.
George Bailey was too good a man to lie. Whatever anyone believes about
the wish doesn't really matter now we know that wishes are real. It's the
part about Clarence that people debate. Granddad said that Clarence was an angel sent
from God, and I believe him seriously. Who would make up a story
about being visited by an angel and then name him Clarence? You must understand
that human belief in angels is as ancient as his first concept of a world
beyond his own. There simply isn't a type of religion that has flourished over
the centuries that does not include them in one form or another. That's doctor
Fritz Hagstrom. He spoke to me via telephone. He's Professor Emeritus of Divinity
at Whittier College, a southern California secular institution of higher learning that can be
found, amusingly enough, in a county literally named the Angels. The modern
conception of an angel, both physically and motivationally, is stitched together from all
these religions. Islam provided them wings, Neo Aristotelian thought showed the breadth of
their power. Hebraic tradition gave us the notion of their being emissaries and warriors
in God's service, with Michael as the leader of his army Gabriel as his
embodiment of justice. Those are the only two I'd like to point out given
names in the Old Testament, since an innumerable amount have been named, But
in all my reading, I've yet to encounter an angel named Clarence. That's
a new one. As to the business of granting wishes, seems more the
domain of the gin from the pre Islamic Arabian tradition, but it isn't without
the realm of possibility. If you believe angels to be the personification of the
will of the divine, then they'd be imbued, barring certain limitations, of
course, with any power imaginable. If God can create the world, a
wish must be, if you'll pardon the colloquialism, small potatoes. And what
might those limitations be? Too many to name in one sitting, though certainly
the most inviolate would be angels cannot usurp the throne of God. Such a
coup as attempted, and as you know, they didn't farewell afterward. It's
easy to forget that the devil the brimstone coated yang to God's yen, not
to mix and match Eastern and Western philosophies too terribly. Was once an angel
himself. Some believe he was the first and most beloved by God. When
he, in a veritable legion of angels, fought to overthrow the Kingdom of
Heaven, they were cast out of Paradise and into the depths of hell.
They've been labeled as beasts or brutes, the depraved, or demons ever since.
But are they still not angels? Do they not still have the power
they once wielded in celestial spaces. It's a question that loomed a large in
my mind while choosing to stop in at Martini's Bedford Fall's oldest tavern. It's
the watering hole where Lulu Bailey's grandfather imbibed more than a few spirits on that
night back in nineteen forty seven. The site of the original bar was over
on Bridge Road, not far from that fabled canal bridge, but a fire
in nineteen sixty four proved devastating, and they've relocated to a more centralized spot
on Washington in Genesee. It's there I met Elliott Parnell He's retired now,
but spent the better part of his life as the floor supervisor at the Wainwright
Plastics factory. He's a Bedford falls Man through and through, only ever having
ventured as far as New York City, and as it turns out, the
perfect man to shed light on what happened next. There were four was poor
that night. Poor Doc Reynolds had his hands full. He was the most
born on any Christmas night open to that point. And what year was this?
The year? This was nineteen forty seven. I suppose every parent thinks
their kid is a miracle, But for the four of us, we were
told straight out, and no doubt about it. See that very night,
when most of the town was home and warm and cozy, our parents were
still at the hospital. In those days, it was a little bitty place,
and the maternity ward was pretty well shared by everyone who was with child.
Now, this is the way Mama tells it. She said, it
was a little before midnight, and out of nowhere there was this sound like
a train hurtling by filled the entire room, just getting louder and louder,
so loud that it hurt to see not here, see, So she shut
her eyes tight, and when the sound went away, she opened them and
saw an angel standing in the ward, white robes, wings, the whole
bit. Now, I know that sounds lone, but if you knew my
mother at all, you know she wasn't a woman given to flights of fancy.
And she swore up and down that I was the easiest birth she had
ever been through. I'm the youngest of five, so there wasn't any possibility
of her memories clouded by morphine or the like. And besides, even if
she was, there were seven other witnesses, and this angel tells them that
tonight is special, that the Lord has made Christmas Eve a divine occasion here
in bedfoot Falls, and that night anyone born in town on the twenty fourth
from now on were worthy of one wish, and whatever was given couldn't be
given back. They took him pretty serious. I'd say, as far back
as I can remember, the yell and holler. Anytime I started to say
the words I wish hell on my birthdays, I'd be told to close my
eyes and be thankful for what I had been given, blowing out the candles.
It wasn't until I was seven that we will found out the truth of
things, that the wishes were real. If the other three born that night
had made a wish before me, they hadn't told anyone, So I suppose
I was the first. What happened when you were seven? My dad was
a minor. Most of those men used their head lamp strapped out front of
their tin cap, but my father hated those things with a passion. He'd
take us watch a cloth and tie that lamp to his forehead. Used to
tie it so tight, my mother a joke. You tie that any tight
and your head's liable to burst. My dad was a strong man, decent,
mostly child of the Depression, and for what my mama told me,
he had a hard go of it growing up, harder than most nowadays.
They'd put him in therapy and it would help, I'm sure, because as
strong as he was and good deep down, he could be mean. And
I'm not excusing him by telling you he had it hard. There's no excuse
for a violent act against anyone, but especially not family. And one time
he was beating on my older brother Kasper, and I got so mad,
hollering for him to stop. He didn't stop. He paused and turned to
me and told me I was next. Well, that's when I finally made
my wish. I wished that his head wood burst, and before the wood
burst was fully out my mouth. That's exactly what happened, just like a
soap bubble. Never did get the stain off our bedroom wall. That was
my one wish. Used it up. So now when my birthday comes,
I can wish on my birthday candles, just like everyone else tried at once
too. I never puked so hard in my life, which was too bad.
That was a good looking cake. Officially, Silas Parnell Elliott's dis cause
of death is listed as decampetation on the coroner's report. It's neatly typed,
followed by the date. In the notes sanction beneath a fountain pen has scrawled
two words spontaneous combustion, followed by two question marks. I would have liked
to talk to the other three children born on the same night as mister Parnell
back in nineteen forty seven, but they've all passed away. Luckily, there
have been plenty of children born on Christmas Eve in Bedford Falls in the years
following, and while many flat out refused any in all contact, I exchanged
emails with several and was able to talk by phone to many more, though
both groups agreed I could share their stories under the condition I not record their
voices or divulge their names. And most of their stories are actually quite sweet,
happening when they were young enough that the most they could ever wish for
was a new puppy, or a video game, or a better home for
their family. Selfless wishes as light as gossamer, seemingly without repercussion, no
ec comic style twist, like the new home becomes reality thanks to a relative
dying at the same moment the wish was spoken, which is not to say
there were no stories without menace. One respondent, who spent summers with his
family on Van Cleve Lake, told me he was racing his brother to a
floating platform found thirty yards from shore. He thoughtlessly wished to be able to
swim like a frog. His email ends, thank God for voice to text
software. You've no idea how hard it is to type with tightly webbed fingers.
Another told me of her experience near the end of her junior year in
high school. It was early June and she felt overwhelmed with the coursework and
impending final exams, and wished to be anywhere but here, only to suddenly
find herself at McMurdo Station in Antarctica, where an early winter had just set
in, stranding her there till September. My parents were not pleased, she
wrote, Only one agreed to speak on air, and enthusiastically at that we
arranged to meet at Martini's, where I should note they make a terrible martini
the following day. That night was a restless one in Bedford. Falls as
troubling as the note of people given the power to shape reality to their will
might be, it's dwarfed by the far more sinister possibilities of its source.
It seems entirely likely that George Bailey was visited by an angel of God.
There have always been stories of angels bringing visions, but what about the one
that appeared across town. Isn't it possible that, in the face of a
divine emissary granting a wish here and on such a holy evening, that those
fallen angels might not seize on that ability and use it for their own horrible,
unholy purpose. Could saving one man's soul have damned everyone else in town?
I'm back at Martini's and speaking to Raphael de Soto. Great name for
radio coming up next, Raphael de Soto on waaf AF. You grew up
in Boston, Seattle, but I went to school there me too, U
mass Hamhurst. It's funny how you mentioned radio. I took a communications course
my sophomore year. No. Yeah, went in for on your talent,
did maybe three shows in the school station before my professor quite readily urged me
towards the technical side of things. I had to drive, but not the
talent. Oh, I'm sure you were fine. Now, Raphael, you
were born on Christmas Eve nineteen ninety's correct. I was hoping you could share
your experience with the wishing phenomenon here in Bedford Falls. Has anyone else spoken
to you about this aside from the Bailey family, I mean, the great
Christmas miracle from God? What a joke? Bells and wings? Bells and
wings. They didn't tell you that part? Shocking. Yeah, she always
said a bell ringing is a sign that an angel has received their wings,
not even joking. Well, I did speak to the Bailey family, but
I also spoke with quite a few others. They wanted anonymity, but they
did share their stories. Let me guess bet she talked to you. Oh
she did, And like I said, they don't want their names released.
Damn it. Sorry. See that's why you're the big time radio guy and
I'm the third shift forklift operator at Wainwright. But if she talked to you,
I think I can guess which others did too. Well. They've been
very forthcoming, I'm sure why wouldn't they be. Most of their stories a
talor made for the Hallmark Channel, and your experience was less than wonderful.
Experience experiences plural. Let me tell you, just being around the event when
it happens can be traumatizing. Seeing something so bizarre happened right in front of
your eyes can really do number on you. It's like they say, an
apocalypse now. It puts the whammy on your head, makes you question reality.
Whether the outcome is awful or adorable makes no difference. And there's another
part of it. This is a little harder to describe. Every time it
happens, and ask anyone in town, and if they don't agree, they're
lying. Whenever it happens, everyone seems to feel a little dimmer inside,
a little wearier, not just physically but mentally, emotionally, maybe spiritually if
that's your thing. See, there really aren't many of us. I know
that even one of us having this power is a major deal, But think
about it. The odds of being born at all are crazily against you.
Not to mention born here in Bedford falls, not to mention being born on
Christmas Eve, those have to be astronomical odds. So there aren't many of
us. We all tend to gravitate toward one another. And I'm not saying
we're wearing matching jackets or anything. There's just a familiality that we feel with
each other, especially given the way the rest of the town tends to treat
us. And how's that gently but a merciless kind of gentle smiling too much
and treating you maybe a little too nicely, But it becomes obvious that it's
an act pretty quickly, which is worse than the ones that are straight up
avoid you. You know they're scared, but the others faking that they're not.
After a while, it just grates on you. Anyway, Since we
tend to be around each other, we also tend to be the witnesses to
the events when they happen, I remember, Oh god, it's hard not
to say their names, but I'll do my best. Okay. There were
these two boys a couple years older than me. Twins. How's that for
astronomical odds. As if twins aren't just naturally weird enough, these ones have
an unnatural power. I was ten, so they were twelve. And you
know how twelve is. You want to stand out from the crowd, assert
your individuality, and these boys are trying to do it with a literal mirror
image doing exactly the same. Well, one day they finally had it out.
There was a group of us behind the high school football fields and these
two are rolling around on the ground, punching, kicking, screaming at each
other. How they were sick of each other, sick of sharing everything.
Then they were back on their feet, and it happened. They wished,
yeah not at the same time. One wanted the other to be older,
old enough so they wouldn't be mistaken for each other. And once that happened,
the now older one wanted the other to be younger. Next thing you
know, they're back on the ground, both of them drooling. An infant
laying next to a withered old man, and both with identical DNA. Their
family moved away a couple months later, I don't know where, probably to
a town where they wouldn't be questioned about a brand new baby and an elderly
man that they introduced to people as Grandpa. Another time, there was a
girl in my biology class just obsessed with unicorns, stickers on her locker,
a thousand scribbled drawings on her notebooks. We were studying fauna, different classes
of animals. She insisted on the existence of unicorns. Our teacher disagreed,
and not very nicely, which is how Bedford Falls ended up with the world's
only unicorn, racing down the halls of BF High School and onto New England
Street and out in the forest. You see him every once in a while.
People who didn't know the story would freak out when they saw him.
Oh my god, it's a unicorn, an actual unicorn. I never had
the heart to tell them that his name was Carl and his favorite band was
run DMC. And those are just the ones I witnessed firsthand the event,
I mean heard the words, saw it happen. We all saw the after
effects on half a dozen others. A kid over at Potter Elementary School who
wanted to fly. He must have floated over the town for three days before
spring storm blew him to who knows where. I don't know if you noticed
the new police station down the street. They built it about five years ago
after the first one disappeared. One day it was there, and the next
it and everyone who was in it was just gone. The way you talked
about the Baileys, I suppose it's safe to assume that you don't subscribe to
their belief in an angelic intervention, that a divine hand set these events in
motion, maybe to start and maybe for them. But what kind of divine
being allows children to turn their parents inside out, or cause a blizzard in
the middle of July, or saddles a human being with that kind of power.
I'm not saying there hasn't been kindness because of it, but the bad
is just so, and it keeps on rolling. You know, every year
there's at least one or two new Christmas Eve recruits to this freak show.
Why don't you leave and go be the same boring drone doing the same boring
thing, just in a new locale where I'm a stranger and I don't have
dies to anything. Yeah, no, thanks? Is that it? Or
is there something else keeping you? You haven't told us about your wish?
No, I haven't, But I also haven't done anything that would make me
feel responsible enough to stay here. The fact is I never used mine.
You're kidding, but that's incredible. What an opportunity, Raphael. If this
whole thing was set in motion by demonic forces, if it's perpetuated endlessly just
as a mockery to the divine and causes havoc on a regular basis, don't
you see that you have the ability to end it. Wish the power away
for good. That's possible. I've considered it. What are you waiting for?
I said it's possible, not probable. If this is an evil power
that we've been given, then it might make everything worse. Give everyone in
town the ability, regardless of birthday or where they'd been born. Give it
to everyone on earth. Can you imagine that? How long before all of
existence disappeared? No? I can't risk that, but I do think you
brought up another avenue. That's starting to sound very tempting. Leaving Bedford Falls.
You don't need to wish for that, and you said you would rather
not me. Me leaving town doesn't appeal. I'd just be the same loser
I was here, but somewhere else, but given the opportunity to be someone
else, preferably already established in a career I've always wanted. You must travel
a lot, get to meet lots of interesting people. Oh please, don't
not to mention renown. I looked you up after you contact me. You've
got quite a career, lots of awards, lots of respect. No,
no, no, no, no, no, very tempting. I wish
I was you interesting. Well, So ends our investigation here in Bedford Falls.
Thank you for tuning in. This has been Raphael Wait, Joseph,
Joseph Hooks, you're intrepid reporter. Wishing all of you a very merry Christmas.
God bless us everyone. This episode of Dark Destinations was written and produced
by Father Malone and featured performances by Antonio Yapor from Swampmediagroup dot com and Space
Detective dot com and Justin Billard. The music was adapted and performed by HP
Music from Hpmusicplace dot bandcamp dot com. Opening theme by Darren Curtis from Darren
Curtis music dot Com. We hope you'll join us next time. Until then,
may all your travels lead to dark destinations. Your kids did call you
a camera? Some smells like it's gonna rain. Nah, it's walkable.
Thanks for putting up with me past last call you a ride? Not necessary?
Bar keep yes, see yourself. Just bark fast okay. If anyone
says anything, you ignore him and keep walking. Gotcha, No chit chat,
just pitter pat good man, I don't know about that. Oh,
come on, don't brain bad enough. Everything east of the boardwalk is uphill.
Now let's make it all slick. Hello, anyone there? We need
to get jump in just a few more blocks. Hello, glad, you're
having fun? Punk Joe, I'm a priest. Just see you know I
wouldn't hurt a man of the clock, now, would you? Was your
color pre back at the hotel. I'm just gonna run along and grab it
or not, I don't need it needs. Everyone's so obsessed with their needs.
Take hard and knowledge that soon you'll never want for anything ever again.
Your eyes? The hell are you? Oh? Lily, Lily, she
must be one of you, you know her? Lily and h Callian they're
they're friends of mine, No, friends of mine. You don't have to
do this. You're right, I need you night, greatar He's no priest,
but Diah, you don't want to use that. Look at the cross,
see your holy Mistrasha back, Johnny, get behind the o man a
little cross. Well it's a close now, Priest, but I can hear
you, and I'll find you, you and your useless cross. I get
my hands on you. You slow, Yes, follow my voice, Santa
Maria Marta Dominostrin bron Nobi's BacT torribus bone and it almost vampires. Yes,
what did you do to him? He was covered in rainwater? I bless
me? Are we safe? Roman? Jeremy good, I'm I'm gonna pass
out. This episode of Dark Destinations was written and produced by Father Malone and
featured performances by Antonio Lapour, Harris Porter, Dakota Sky, Matt Shaffrey Rudden,
Chris Stashie, Andrew Redao. Music by HP Music. Until next time,
may all your journeys lead to dark destinations.