You Must Remember This

by Rebecca Immich

Disclaimers: The characters except for all original ones belong to Rupert Holmes and American Movie Classics. This story is only meant to entertain and no copyright infringement is intended. All original material is mine, however.

Comments: Some of y’all might actually remember this story…I think I sent it down the WENNlist last spring. However, I’m just finally getting around to finishing it and reworking some details. This story is set several months after "All Noisy on the Pittsburgh Front" and was inspired by my renewed interest in another television series - if you can guess it, good for you! :) Comments and criticism are always welcome!

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Maple and Betty took a sigh of relief as they exited the theater. "That was some movie," Maple said. "I'm glad you convinced me to take it in before I left."

Betty smiled. They had just seen "Suspicion," an Alfred Hitchcock thriller. "I don't know who I'll go to the movies with once you leave. I can't believe that you're going to Washington next Tuesday! I can’t imagine joining the Red Cross and being in the middle of the war."

"I'm sure Gertie would be interested," Maple said. "Or you could even try Hilary." Maple laughed at the ridiculousness of that idea.

Betty laughed, but then said, "Maple, this is going to sound silly, but could we walk back to the station? I just have this awful feeling that something is wrong there."

"Betty!" Maple exclaimed. "You worry too much about that station. And what has it given back to you? Nothing! You have more problems due to WENN than anyone else that ever worked there!"

"Maple," Betty said, "I love my job. Without WENN, I would never have met you or Gertie or Jeff or Mr. Foley or... Heck, I'd still be in Indiana!"

"Yes," Maple agreed slowly. "But you would have never met Victor or Scott...and all the problems that came with them."

"Well," Betty said wryly, "they have had their problems. But not all the problems were bad." She looked down at the pavement where wet spots were beginning to appear. "C'mon Maple, it's starting to rain. We can get a cab from the station - my treat!"

"Okay." Maple agreed. "But let's make it quick!”

The two women walked down the street to WENN. It had moved from its original location to the main downtown after being promoted to the W.E.N.N. - the Wartime Entertainment and News Network. The central location of Pittsburgh made it easy to upgrade the output of WENN's transmitter to broadcast coast to coast. Some other things had changed however. Betty no longer wrote all of the programs for the W.E.N.N. Some of the programs were provided prerecorded by other W.E.N.N. affiliates from around the country, and for their news programs the army had provided Colonel Thomas Jenkins as a newswriter. He had enlisted right after Pearl Harbor, but because he had been a highly successful journalist in Chicago, the military had stationed him in Pittsburgh to work at the W.E.N.N., much to Tom’s dismay. Despite the fact that he wanted to see more action, he still managed to remain cheerful about staying in the United States and had become another familiar member of the crew of WENN.

Just as they reached the safety of the lobby, the clouds let loose with a torrential downpour. "I guess it was a good idea to come here," Maple said. "I don't know if we'd be able to get a cab from the movie theater. You know, I think Tom might still be there. I remember he said something about working on some filler for tomorrow's news program. We might be able to get a ride home from him."

"Great!" Betty replied. They got on the elevator and rode up to the tenth floor. "It looks as though you're right. The lights are still on so Tom must be here."

They pushed open the doors and walked into the lobby. "Oh, Thoooomas!" Maple singsonged. "You've got two lovely ladies looking for a lift."

"Wait a second, Maple," Betty said. "Tom's office light isn't on."

"Well, maybe he’s just getting ready to lock up and leave,” Maple said. “Tom usually leaves around this time. Either that or he’s heating up something in the green room.”

“If you say so,” Betty said. She walked down the hallway and opened the green room door. After peeking into the room, she called out nervously, “Maple - I think we have a bigger problem on our hands.”

“What now, Betty?” Maple began to walk down to the green room. “I’d like to get some sleep tonight!” She chuckled to herself. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but with all those men at war, I don’t get out as much as I used to.” She came to the green room and looked in.

Lying on the floor was a strange man. Betty, who looked frightened, said, “When I came into the room, he was standing in the middle of the room. But when he turned and saw me, he fainted dead away.”

“Who is he, Betty?” Maple walked over to the man’s side. “I don’t recognize him at all.”

“I don’t know,” Betty said nervously. “I wish Tom was here. I guess we should get him on the couch and give him some water, then see what he is doing here.”

Once he was settled, Betty and Maple sat down on the arms of the couch. “What do we do now?” Maple asked. “We’ve found a strange man lying unconscious in the green room and neither of us can identify him. He’s not in a military uniform so I don’t think he was here to meet Tom. Who else could be expecting a strange man at this hour? Everyone else has left the station at least an hour ago.”

“I don’t know, Maple. I just don’t know.”

Just then, the man began to stir. He blinked his eyes rapidly and said, “Where am I? Who are you?”

Maple and Betty exchanged worried looks. Betty replied, “You are in Pittsburgh at radio station WENN which is the head of the W.E.N.N. That’s the Wartime Entertainment and News Network for short. I’m Betty Roberts, the head writer and program director, and this is Maple La Marsh, actress and soon, member of the Red Cross. What are you doing here and who are you?”

The man looked around the room carefully before answering. “I don’t know,” he replied slowly.

“Whaddya mean, you don’t know?” Maple asked. “*We* found you in the green room. You’re the one who doesn’t belong in this building. Do you have a wallet with a driver’s license or anything?”

The man rummaged through his pockets and removed a leather wallet. Opening it, he removed ten single dollars and a single piece of paper. “It doesn’t look like I have any identification. That is unless I’m-“ he paused to read from the paper “-Scott Sherwood, Radio Station WENN, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

Maple smiled and said, “Nope. I think we’d recognize you if you were Scott. Scott’s American too. He doesn’t have an English accent like you do.”

“You know this Scott Sherwood?” he asked. “Where is he? Perhaps he could tell me who I am. At least I know I’m not from here.”

“That would be rather difficult,” Betty said. “He’s overseas fighting the Germans.” She looked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Betty exchanged worried glances with Maple as she looked pointedly at the stranger’s head. “Perhaps we should do something about the lump on your head,” Betty said. “Would you like some ice?”

“Yes,” he said after feeling the lump on the back of his head. “That would be a really good idea.” Betty walked over to the icebox and took out the ice cube tray. “Maple, would you mind getting the ice bag out of the first aid kit? It’s in the writer’s room.” Maple nodded and left the room.

The stranger had moved to one of the couches and was sitting there with a puzzled look on his face. After removing the ice cubes onto the counter, Betty glanced at him. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

“I think so,” he said. “I don’t remember much, as you can probably tell. I have only a vague feeling of where I’ve just been. Somewhere in London, I think. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I’m in Pittsburgh. And at a radio station of all places.”

Betty frowned thoughtfully, puzzling over the possible reasons for this Englishman to be in the green room. “It might be possible that you’re connected with the military somehow,” she said slowly. “This is an American radio station affiliated with the military. You might be an entertainer of some sorts sent over to perform on our station and boast morale.”

Maple returned from the writer’s room with the ice bag just in time to say, “Or you might be someone connected with the military who will be writing the news or something. I can’t think of anything else you’d be, but it must be something connected with the military.”

Betty took the ice bag from Maple and said, “I don’t know why he would have Scott’s name and the address of WENN on him though. If he were connected with the military, he would probably have Tom’s name. Why would he have Scott’s name?”

“I’m not sure,” he interrupted with a smile, “but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me ‘he.’ Could you make up a name for me? Something like John Doe or whatever suits you?”

Maple gave him a look up and down and said, “You don’t strike me as a John. I think we should call you…”

“James,” Betty said with an air of finality. “We’ll call you James Smith. Will that suit you?”

“Sounds good. James,” he said, testing out the name. “I suppose it will work for now. It doesn’t sound familiar, but I’m not sure what is familiar.”

Suddenly a door slammed shut and Tom walked into the green room. He first saw Betty and Maple and asked, “What are you doing here at this hour of night?” The girls moved away from the sofa and he saw the stranger sitting there with an ice bag on his head. “Who is that?” he demanded, scowling at the stranger.

“We’re not sure of that answer ourselves,” Maple answered. “He has just appeared at WENN with Scott Sherwood’s name and the address for WENN in his pocket.”

The stranger brought the ice bag down from his head and grinned sheepishly. “I think I lost my memory when I hit my head,” he said. “I don’t remember anything, let alone who I am. I just have a vague recollection of being in London recently, but I do remember some things clearly. London is definitely not a day trip from anywhere in America. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea who I am, would you? Oh, and you can call me James. That’s the name that Miss Roberts and Miss La Marsh decided to call me by. They said I didn’t look like a John.”

“The military hasn’t informed me of any foreign personnel joining the W.E.N.N.” Tom frowned, appearing to be in deep thought. “I don’t understand why you would have Scott Sherwood’s name in your possession. I’m the current contact for all military personnel coming to this station. I don’t think Sherwood was ever a contact for the W.E.N.N. This is all very mysterious.”

“I hate to interrupt you when you’re deep in though, Tom,” Maple interrupted, “but it’s kind of late and I’d like to be getting home. I’ve got so many things to do before I leave.”

Betty nodded in agreement. She looked at the suave looking English man in front of her, his brown hair immaculately in place despite the growing bump, his expensive looking suit with nary a wrinkle on it, and looked into his deep blue eyes. “What are we going to do about James?” she asked. He looked up at her suddenly, startled by her concern.

Tom sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I suppose he can stay at my apartment for the evening. Although it won’t be much better than staying at the station.”

“Tommy,” Maple broke in, “James has just been through a traumatic experience. We should really take him to the hospital in case he’s got a concussion or some sort of head injury.”

“No, no, no!” James said forcefully. “No hospitals. I don’t have any head injuries. I should just stay at the station overnight and perhaps tomorrow it will come to me who I am. Or else maybe someone else who works at this station will be able to tell me who I am.”

“Okay, okay,” Betty said as she placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. “No hospitals. I think you should stay with Tom overnight just in case.”

“Alright,” he said after a long pause. “I’ll go.”

“Great,” Tom said. “I think my clothes will fit you. You’re about my height and maybe a little thinner though. Let’s get going before these girls get kicked out of the Barbican for missing their curfew.”

The group quickly gathered their things and left the building, each hoping to return the next day and figure out who this mysterious stranger could be.

“Who have we got here?” Gertie asked as Tom brought James through the reception area. “Another military man to write for the station?”

“A little more mysterious than that, Gertie,” Tom said. “You don’t recognize him?” Gertie shook her head after taking in the tall stranger’s features and immaculate clothing. “Betty and Maple found him here in the station last night and--”

Maple bounced into the reception area. “It was really strange, Gertie. He doesn’t remember who is!” She smiled brightly at James and said, “We decided that he looked like a James. Was Scott expecting someone to show up at the station?”

Gertie frowned and thought back to the last time she that had spoken with Scott Sherwood. It had been right before he had shipped out for good. He had called, hoping to get a hold of Betty for what he thought might be the final time, but she had been out at a meeting for the military, arranging the final details about the W.E.N.N. He had sounded so disappointed, but hadn’t mentioned anything about any people coming to WENN. “I don’t think so. He didn’t mention it the last time that he called. There might be something in the letters that he writes to the station. They’re all in the green room in a shoebox. Perhaps you should look there.”

James smiled and said, “Any lead is great. The last thing I remember is being in London, which isn’t exactly a lot of help in identifying who I am.”

“Oh, you’re British! There is nothing like an English accent to brighten up my mornings!” Gertie smiled charmingly and said, “There’s coffee in the green room. I think we might even have a couple tea bags left over from when Desmond Quist was here.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” James said politely. “I’m not especially fond of hot beverages in the early morning hours.”

Maple glanced up at the clock above Gertie’s desk and exclaimed, “I’m due on the air in two minutes! I’d better get going before Betty has my head!” She ran off to studio A, clutching the morning’s script.

“It’s always exciting here at WENN,” James commented. “Never a dull moment.”

“Oh, yes! And before WENN and the W.E.N.N. were one, WENN had several encounters with Nazi spies. Those were the good old days,” Gertie sighed. “But I suppose we have enough excitement here already, with the war going on and everything.”

“Nazi spies?” James asked. “That must have been pretty exciting.”

“I’m sure you could sit here and chat with Gertie all day, James,” Tom said. “However, I have to get to Washington this morning and she has to get to work.” He looked pointedly at the switchboard behind Gertie that was lit up with calls. “Perhaps you could look through Scott Sherwood’s letters to the station and see if he mentions anything about you. Mr. Eldridge would probably be able to help you out.”

Tom turned to go to his office and James shrugged at Gertie. “I don’t think he slept so well last night,” he whispered confidentially. “I think my snoring might have kept him awake.”

Gertie chuckled and turned to the flashing switchboard. James turned and walked to the green room. He began searching through the shoeboxes stacked on the bookshelf for the one that contained Scott Sherwood’s letters. He located it, wedged behind a book of poetry and a Golden Lobe trophy, and brought the box over to the table to sort through the letters. The door opened with a bang and Mr. Eldridge walked in, frowned at the man at the table and said “William! Where the hell have you been?”

James looked around, trying to figure out whom this old man was talking to since there had to be someone else in the room. There was no one else there. “Are you talking to me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Mr. Eldridge said. “Is there anyone else in the room?” He moved to the table and noticed the swollen bump on James’ head. “What happened there?”

James opened his mouth to ask a question and then closed it to think for a moment. Finally he answered, “From what I was told by Betty and Maple, I was in the green room and I fainted. I think I hit my head against something as I fell down. I don’t remember anything. Now, who are you?”

Mr. Eldridge shook his head. The situation had just become a little more complicated, but for the moment, he had to salvage the best of it. “I’m Mr. Eldridge. What are you doing with Scott’s letters?”

James -- or was his name William now? -- was very confused. “Mr. Eldridge, who am I?”

Mr. Eldridge sighed. He hadn’t wanted to get into the complicated explanation right now, but apparently he was going to have to. “I really wish you had memory back. This is already a complicated matter and this is not helping at all.”

“What are you talking about?” James asked. “I don’t understand these cryptic responses. Can you just tell me what you mean in a straight out fashion so that I can find out who I am and why I am in Pittsburgh at a radio station?”

Mr. Eldridge rolled his eyes. Why, oh, why did he agree to help out Scott? he thought to himself. It wasn’t supposed to be this convoluted. How did that quotation go? Something like “Oh what a tangled web we weave when we first practice to deceive.” It was definitely a tangled web now and who was going to untangle it?

The door opened with a bang and Mackie strode into the room. “Hello Mr. Eldridge. I see you’ve met our man of mystery. Maple was telling me all about him this morning. Hmmm. You do look like a James,” he said as he surveyed the Englishman head to toe.

“Mr. Eldridge here was trying to convince me otherwise,” he said in a clipped accent. “He says I look like a William.”

Mackie walked over to pour himself some coffee from the percolator on the stove. “Really, Mr. Eldridge? I swear he looks like a James to me. Well, I’d better get going. Colonel Moore is on in a few minutes. It was nice meeting you, James.”

“The same here,” he called out as Mackie left the green room as quickly as he had came in. “Mr. Eldridge,” he began to plead, “could you just tell me what is going on? Please?”

“Oh all right,” Mr. Eldridge agreed. “Your name is William Trumain. You do know Scott Sherwood though it appears that now you’ve forgotten him.”

“Really?” William asked. “I swear I never forget a face. Well, I suppose this bump on my head is responsible for most of the damage. So my name is William. It’s got a nice sound to it. Not quite as nice as James, but it will do. How do you know all this? And how is this Scott Sherwood involved in everything?”

“I guess you would want an explanation of everything,” Mr. Eldridge began.

The door to the green room banged open once again. “Hello Mr. Eldridge!” Eugenia trilled. “I see you’ve met our English stranger. It’s so fascinating how he ended up at WENN. Mackie told me all about him before the show. Hello, James! Have you discovered anything more about the reason why you are here?”

William opened his mouth, but Mr. Eldridge was quicker and cut him off, saying, “James and I were just going through Scott’s letters. Gertie thought they might have a clue to who this fellow is and why he was carrying Scott’s name on him.”

William shot Mr. Eldridge a questioning look, then commented, saying, “Yes. I think Mr. Eldridge may be on to something. If only we were able to read Scott’s handwriting a little clearer.”

“You could probably ask Betty,” Eugenia suggested. “She’s had to decipher his handwriting during the time that he was station manager. Oh my, would you look at the time? I have got to be getting back on the air!” She hustled out of the green room.

“What was that about?” William demanded. “Why aren’t you telling them that you know me?”

“Perhaps it would be better if we went into the writer’s room. I might be able to explain with less interruptions.” Mr. Eldridge got up from the table, picked up the shoebox and left the green room. William shrugged and began to follow him to the deserted writer’s room. Mr. Eldridge had sat down at the deserted writer’s desk and Thomas sat down across from him. They stared at each other for a few brief moments until William broke the silence. “Okay. I’ve had enough of not knowing who I am and what I’m doing here. Just tell me who I am!”

“There’s no need to use that kind of tone, young man,” Mr. Eldridge admonished. “I shouldn’t even tell you who you are.”

William quickly apologized. “It’s just that I really want to know who I am. It’s very unnerving to not have any personal knowledge.”

“Okay, I’ll excuse it this once. Don’t do it again.” Mr. Eldridge settled down in his chair to finally begin the narrative that William had been waiting for.

From the hall, Betty’s voice became clear. “Thanks for the help, Tom. I’ve got to write a program right now.” The door to the writer’s room swung open and Betty walked in. “Oh, hello Mr. Eldridge! I see you’ve met James, our mysterious visitor. Where you waiting in here for me? Eugenia said you needed my help reading one of Scott’s letters. What can I do to help out?”

Mr. Eldridge and William exchanged looks. “Oh, Betty,” Mr. Eldridge began, “we figured out--”

William began at the same time, saying, “The letter we need you to look at is--”

They both stopped mid-sentence. Mr. Eldridge quickly said, “I’m pretty sure we didn’t find anything in any of Scott’s letters so far. We’d better go back to the green room and see if there is anything left in the others. Thanks for the help, Betty.” He got up and walked out of the room, William following behind quickly. Betty called out, “You’re welcome…but I didn’t do anything yet.”

“Mr. Eldridge,” William asked as they walked through the hallway back to the green room, “is there anywhere at this station where no one will disturb us for ten minutes so you can tell me who I am?”

“Well,” he said as he stopped to think for a moment, “I guess we could go to the station manager’s office. Since Betty is busy writing scripts there shouldn’t have anyone in it. And no one ever goes in there except sponsors and military types.”

“Sounds perfect. Let’s just get there and then you can tell me all about myself.” Mr. Eldridge nodded in agreement and stood in the hallway. “Well,” Thomas began to shout, “I don’t bloody well know where the room is! Couldn’t you just take me there!”

“Young man,” Mr. Eldridge said in a disapproving tone, “I don’t need to put up with that kind of language. You’re the one who needs me to tell you the information, not the other way around.”

“All right, all right,” William said. “I’m sorry. Now can we please just get this over with?”

Mr. Eldridge nodded grudgingly and led the way to the office. He stopped in front of the door and gestured for William to enter first. “I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting any longer,” he said.

William smiled appreciatively and reached for the door handle. Suddenly, the door burst open and the edge of the door smacked right into William’s forehead. He slowly slid down to the floor, unconscious. Victor peered around the corner of the door and noticed Mr. Eldridge. “Did I hit something?” he asked.

“Oh, just the strange English gentleman who showed up at the station late last night,” Mr. Eldridge said. “Perhaps we’d better get him to the green room couch.”

Victor glanced down at the floor and finally noticed the unconscious man lying on the floor. “That would appear to be an excellent idea. You take his feet and I’ll grab his arms.”

The two men dragged the unconscious body to the green room and laid him down on the couch. He hadn’t moved yet. “Perhaps we’d better call an ambulance,” Victor suggested.

Just then, Betty and Maple entered the green room. “Betty, this is a great script,” Maple said. “You really ought to send your stuff to national radio stations and then you could--” She stopped mid-sentence and stared at the unconscious man on the couch.

“Is it just me,” Betty said, “or does this scene feel familiar?”

To be continued….