Solid Citizen

The Signal Oil Program. Yes, the Signal Oil Program. The Whistler. That whistle is your signal for the Signal Oil Program. The Whistler. I'm the Whistler. And I know many things, or I walk by night.

I know many strings here, hidden in the hearts of men and women who have tested the cattle. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Dear friends, it's time for the Signal Oil program, the Whistler, rated tops in popularity for a longer period of time than any other West Coast program in radio history.

And Signal gasoline is top two tops in quality. It takes extra quality, you know, to give you extra mileage. And Signal is the famous go farther gasoline. So look for the Signal Circle sign in yellow and black that identifies independently operated signal stations from Canada to Mexico.

And now the Whistler's strange story. Solid citizens. Harry Cummings stood at the window of the General Store. He'd inherited from his father. Along with the goodwill of senior Cummings had built in the small fishing village of Beethill.

Harry's eyes followed the tiny wiffs of Forbes tweaked him before the approaching darkness. He smugly watched the fishing boats as they moved slowly out to sea. Both that were manned by people who looked up to Harry, respected him.

Harry, coming to use the well-earned reputation of his father to cover up his own lack of character and go to secretly that he successfully fooled his fellow townspeople, who looked upon him as an up and coming man.

But he wasn't satisfied. But the one thing he wanted most of all, the one thing he'd flattened, seen for, was still out of reach, and had been for years. He said his jaw turned from the window and walked behind the store-counting.