An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge

Thus, thence, and the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William and Robeson. Every year, thousands of short stories roll out from a multitude of typewriters and march across the pages of our magazines and books toward well-deserved oblivion.

Few are memorable. Fewers still are classics. They pass the time, and have forgotten even before the paper in which they are written is reduced to blackened ash. But occasionally a story is written that is a true classic, an unforgettable tale.

Listen to such a one now. As Victor Jory stars in Ambrose Beerus's weird and wonderful story of the Civil War, an occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, a tale well calculated to keep you in. A hand stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down through the ties of the swift water twenty feet below.

The man's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-temper above his head, and the slack fell to the level of his knees.

He watched a piece of dancing driftwood racing down the current beneath his feet. He thought, if I could free my hands I might throw off this noose and dive into the creek. If I swam underwater I would be safe from their bullets.

If my wind held out I could make the southern bank take to the woods and get away home. Peyton Farquhar, Alabama planter stood at the end of a plank. A captain of the Union army and a sergeant stood at the other end.

When they stepped aside the plank would tip upward and Peyton Farquhar, Confederate spy would slip between the ties to hang until dead, above the muddy water of Owl Creek. Even in this far outpost of Sherman's March to the Sea, the formalities of death are observed by men most familiar with him.