From Here to Machinery Novelization
Written by Len Uhley
part 1

Disclaimer: TaleSpin and its characters are the property of Disney. No money is being made from this novelization. A few scenes have been added for flow purposes.

Author's note: It's very rare for a cartoon to address serious topics, but TaleSpin did it and did it well. This particular episode dealt with the downside of technological advances, unemployment, business foreclosures, the breakup of family/friends - things that were all part and parcel of the Great Depression. The Movie Tone news scene especially added a touch of reality - 1930s reality, that is. So, without further ado, here is another novelization for your reading enjoyment, fellow Spinners.

Louie's
May 1937
Friday Afternoon

Louie's Place was a nightclub situated on a small, picturesque tropical island just a tankful of gas away from Cape Suzette. The nightclub, a thatch-covered, bamboo building constructed around a one-hundred-year-old wrecked sailing ship, was surrounded by palm trees and thick jungle vegetation. Looming over the nightclub was a scraggy mountain. On top of this mountain was a gigantic red neon sign reading, 'Louie's' that could be seen from miles away.

On this balmy afternoon, Louie's was crowded. A motley crew of freelance pilots were sitting at the bar and sipping fruit drinks as a scruffy canine pilot described his latest run-in with Don Karnage and his gang of air pirates.

"Pirates to the left! Pirates to the right! Guns a-blazin'! Ack-ack-ack-ack-ack!" He mimicked the air pirates' machine guns mounted on their CT-37s.

A small feline pilot toppled off his stool, alarmed, as the dog 'shot' near his head.

The storyteller lightly, playfully smacked the feline across the snout. "Four air pirates at once, and they never touched me! Ha! Ha! Us freelance pilots are the best, huh?" he gloated.

A slate grey panther dressed in a lighter grey flight jacket with the maroon and gold Shere Khan logo on the sleeve smiled with amused derision across the table at his fellow cronies - virtually clones of himself. "Look, citizen, Shere Khan hires only the best pilots. We fly for Khan, therefore, we're the best."

A tall, brown canine with sharp eyes and a pointed nose clad in a panama hat, white shirt, black tie, and tan trench coat sitting at a table caught the proprietor of the establishment, a large brown ape, by his colorful Hawaeen shirt as he passed by.

"Hey, man, easy on the haberdashery!" the ape - Louie Lamont by name - exclaimed, pulling away.

Holding a pencil over his notepad, the canine inquired, "Pardon me, but who are the best pilots - the freelancers or Khan's men?"

Louie chortled as a yellow Conwing L-16 buzzed the thatched roof of Louie's place; its propellers sheered off the tops of a row of nearby trees before coming in for a perfect landing. "There's your answer right there, man. The world's most primo pilot - Baloo. Snow or warm, pirates or storm. That guy can handle anything. Wanna meet him?"

A large grey bear dressed in a yellow button-down shirt and red pilot's cap strutted into the nightclub, brushing himself off. "Hey, Louie, trimmed your hedges for ya on the way in."

"Ha! Ha! Thanks, cousin." Louie and Baloo gave each other high fives.

One of Khan's pilots murmured jealously, "Maybe he should get a job as a gardener."

Slapping his hand down on the bar, Baloo said loudly, "How's 'bout a Mango Fandango for the top dog on the Air Race Wall of Fame?" With a large paw, he gestured to a bulletin board, to which were tacked black-and-white photos of every pilot who had ever come into Louie's. Baloo's smiling picture was at the top of the board.

"Comin' right up, spud. But first let me introduce a new fan to my main man. Allow me to present...uh..." Louie glanced around the nightclub, but the canine stranger was nowhere to be seen. "Well, he was here a second ago."

Outside on the dock, the dog in the trench coat smirked and made a notation in his notepad. "Ha!"

Higher for Hire
The Next Morning

The Higher for Hire flight crew was enjoying the luxury of sleeping in on what started out to be a typical Saturday morning. Baloo snored away loudly in his bed. The green window blind fluttered with every intake and exhale of his powerful breaths. Curled up a few feet away in a smaller bed was twelve-year-old Kit Cloudkicker, a brown bear cub. In addition to his white nightshirt, the boy sported a pair of pink earmuffs; they were necessary to muffle the sound of Baloo's deafening snores.

Outside, the sound of twin Superflight 100 engines revving up pierced the lazy morning peacefulness. Frowning, Kit stirred. He sat up in bed, tossing the earmuffs aside. He listened for a second, dazed with sleep; then his brown eyes widened with recognition. "The Sea Duck!" he exclaimed.

Baloo was awakened mid-snore. "The Sea Duck?"

Both bears peeked out of the window between their beds. The orange-trimmed yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane was taxiing away from the dock, much to the onlookers' surprise.

"Somebody's taking her off!" Kit cried.

"Planenappers!" Faster than a speeding bullet, Baloo raced down the stairs - still in his white nightshirt and nightcap - past his boss, Rebecca Cunningham, who was doing paperwork at her desk. "Becky, call the cops!"

"Uh-oh," the petite brown bearess muttered.

Seizing a coil of rope fastened to the dock, Baloo leapt on top of the Sea Duck's fuselage and lassoed the port pontoon, causing the seaplane to veer around and crash into the dock. Baloo swung himself through the cargo hold door and burst into the cockpit, snarling, "Joyride's over, ya dirty...huh?"

Poking above the pilot's seat was a robot's silver metallic head. The head swivelled to face the confused bear, who stood speechless in the doorway. Its opaque bulbous eyes glowed white as it beeped twice.

The brown canine in the trench coat who had been nosing around at Louie's the day before peered around the navigator's seat. His expression was one of pure annoyance. "What do you want?"

Baloo clenched his fists, ready to take on this stranger and his metal friend to protect his 'baby'. "What do I want? Who do you think you...ow!" His question was curtailed by Rebecca roughly tweaking his ear.

"Um...can we talk?" The petite bearess dragged her large employee into the cargo hold. With Kit looking on, she informed them, "That is Professor Martin Torque. He has rented the Sea Duck for a large amount of money to test his new invention, the Auto Aviator."

"That overgrown blender's gonna fly my airplane?" Baloo growled.

"No! That overgrown blender's going to fly my airplane," Rebecca snapped. "Now, get back in there and apologize and try to be nice!" She spun on her heel and went back into Higher for Hire.

Baloo mumbled to Kit sarcastically, "Nice is my middle name." Strolling into the cockpit, he said with a forced friendly smile, "Hey, sorry ta bust in on ya like that. Baloo's the name." He held out a paw.

Martin Torque was up to his elbows inside the robot, tightening a loose nut with his wrench. He slammed the top of the Auto Aviator's head down and stared balefully at the big bear.

"So, uh, that's quite a gadget ya got there," Baloo said dubiously.

"This gadget represents the future of aviation," the canine said curtly.

Kit frowned at the robot in the pilot's seat, a tin metal man approximately twice his height, muttering sardonically, "Yeah, and I'm the propellor fairy."

"Unlike ordinary pilots the Auto Aviator never deviates from its flight plan. It is the ultimate pilot."

"Ultimate pilot," the Auto Aviator mimicked in its flat, metallic voice.

"It's efficient," Torque proclaimed.

The robot echoed, "Efficient."

"Obedient."

"Obedient," repeated the robot.

"Stupid," Baloo said pointedly.

"Stupid," the robot said.

Baloo grinned. "Hey, I'm startin' ta like this boy." He patted the robot's head and promptly received a nasty shock, which propelled him backwards against the cockpit wall.

"The Auto Aviator's designed to repulse interferences," Torque said coldly. "It must have sensed hostile intent."

Baloo pushed up the sleeves of his nightshirt, growling, "Ooo...I'll show him hostile intent." While Kit helped him to his feet, the pilot got a devious idea. Chuckling half-heartedly, he said, "No hard feelings. Say! Did Becky ever tell you about the alterations I've made on this plane?"

Suspiciously, Torque said, "Such as?"

Baloo gestured to two buttons on the control panel. "For instance, that blue button there. Now, that button's okay, but never, ever touch that red button."

"Blue button okay. Red button bad." The Auto Aviator pressed the blue button, causing the back of the pilot's seat to slam an unsuspecting Martin Torque to the deck.

Snickering, Baloo and Kit exited the plane. "Or was it the red button's good and the blue button's bad?"

Getting to his feet, Torque mumbled, "After this test, we'll see who's clever."

Higher for Hire
Later That Afternoon

Baloo and Kit stood on the walkway outside of Higher for Hire's crow's nest, looking out over the Cape Suzette harbor. Kit rested his elbows on the banister. He was peering through a pair of binoculars at the gap between the cliffs.

Nervously pacing, Baloo wrung his hat in his massive hands. He lamented, "They've been gone for hours. My poor baby's probably just a mile-long pile of parts by now."

"Not necessarily. Here she comes!"

Wrenching the binoculars away from the boy, the pilot asked tremulously, "W...with or without wings?"

The Sea Duck came in for a perfect landing. "Wow! That robot can fly!" Noticing his Papa Bear's angry expression, Kit amended, "I mean it flies pretty good for a machine."

Furious, the big bear stomped inside.

"Baloo? Wait up!"

The two bears went inside, down the stairs, and out to the dock where the Sea Duck had just landed. Four men of various species equipped with cameras and notepads spilled from a car.

"Reporters?" Kit cried incredulously. "Who called them?"

"One guess," mumbled Baloo sullenly.

The reporters were eager to get the scoop on this new aviation invention, so they crowded around the Sea Duck, firing off questions as fast as they could.

"Gangway!"

"A mechanical pilot?"

"What's it called?"

Martin Torque smiled as the reporters took picture after picture of the Auto Aviator. Publicity was just what he needed to market his invention. "Okay, I will answer all of your questions. But first let me introduce that ace of the skies - Baloo. Baloo, come on up here."

"What?" Baloo gasped, amazed.

"Take a good look, gentlemen," Torque said, addressing the reporters who were furiously scribbling down every word he uttered. "Before you is the best pilot that ever was."

Baloo grinned from ear to ear. "Well, now. When ya put it that way..."

"Over here, ace!"

"Give us a smile!"

"Let's see that profile!"

Striking what he thought was a gallant pose, Baloo grinned foolishly as camera bulbs flashed in his face. He shook his head and blinked furiously to get rid of the spots dancing before his eyes.

"Yes, here they are, together for the last time. The pilot of the past and the pilot of the future - the Auto Aviator." Torque stepped aside so that the reporters would get a full view of his impressive invention.

"Now, wait a minute!" Baloo bellowed, feeling his position as the top dog on the Air Race Wall of Fame was being threatened by a mere machine. "That overgrown waffle iron's no pilot. A real pilot can handle storms an'...an' air pirates an'...an' stuff like that."

With an air of superiority, Torque stated, "My pilot can fly day and night. It never sleeps. Never eats. Never deviates from its flight plan." He contemptuously poked Baloo's nose with his index finger, prompting a scowl from the big bear. "Your kind are like the dinosaurs - decaying, defective, and defunct."

Baloo had no idea what some of those words meant, but he didn't like Torque's patronizing tone. He had had enough of this so-called professor and his robot. The fingers of his right hand convulsively curled into a fist. "Oh, yeah? Well, defunct this!" Drawing back his large fist, Baloo punched Martin Torque in the eye in front of Kit and the reporters.

The reporters, of course, preserved the moment on film.

Khan Towers
That Evening

Martin Torque, a cold compress over his swollen black eye, sat in the penthouse office of Shere Khan, the richest man in Usland. The imposing tiger businessman, clad in an impeccable, $16,000 suit, perused an article on the front page of the Cape Suzette Tribune about the Auto Aviator. Along with the article was a picture of Baloo punching the professor. While he waited for Khan to address him, Torque glanced out of the corner of his good eye at the spacious, forbidding office, at the well-tended jungle plants lining both sides of the room, at the large window that overlooked Cape Suzette.

The inventor fidgeted in his seat. He was silently, if not impatiently, waiting for Khan to speak.

"Hm...such a crude individual," Khan purred in his smooth, cultured bass voice. He was chuckling inwardly at the photograph. Even though he thought that Baloo's manners were bourgeois, he had the utmost regard for his piloting abilities. He swivelled his chair to face the professor.

"A mindless menial, Mr. Khan, sir. My tests are complete. My machine is perfect. Should I put you down for, say...a dozen Auto Aviators?"

Folding the newspaper and placing it on his desk, Khan replied dryly, "I haven't said that I'd buy anything. Baloo may be correct. Perhaps your machine can't handle all situations."

Martin Torque started out of his chair in anger. "Are you going to believe that barnstormer?"

"Calm yourself, Professor. If there was a test against a real pilot and the Auto Aviator won, I might buy, say, a thousand of your mechanical men."

"A...a thousand?" Torque blinked with astonishment.

Shere Khan checked the ticker tape on his desk. As usual, Khan Industries stocks were skyrocketing. "Think about it."

"But..."

"Good day." Khan turned his back to the professor, signifying that the conversation was closed.

Martin Torque rode down in the glass elevator to the ground floor, pondering his good fortune. If Khan purchased a thousand Auto Aviators then maybe other business tycoons would jump on the bandwagon, and he, Martin Torque, would be very rich. Very rich indeed. However, there was only one obstacle in the shape of a fat bear to overcome.

He sprinted out through the pouring rain to his van. "All right, Mr. Khan, I'll prove the Auto Aviator is a good invention, and in the process I'll destroy Baloo."

The Auto Aviator prototype in the backseat echoed ominously, "Destroy Baloo."

The van roared off through Cape Suzette. Its tires sloshed through a puddle, splashing Baloo's picture featured on the front page of a discarded Cape Suzette Tribune lying on the sidewalk.

Higher for Hire
Sunday Afternoon

Rebecca Cunningham scurried around her simply furnished office with a feather duster. There was no rest for the weary or the businesswoman. Sunday or not, she still had to work, because she had scheduled an appointment with a prospective client. This was the only day that said client could meet with her. Because she hoped to have a signed contract in her hands by the end of the afternoon, she had agreed to the meeting. The customer was always right, right?

However, she didn't like the fact that her flight crew was underfoot. If their presence blew the deal, she would strangle them, fire them, and strangle them again - especially Baloo.

Pilot and navigator had no idea what their boss was thinking. With no deliveries to make, Baloo lounged in his favorite red easy chair, one leg slung over the chair's arm, fashioning paper airplanes by the bushel. Nearby, Kit sat cross-legged on the floor, also folding airplanes.

Rebecca dusted the windowsill and the banister. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she said, "Great, Baloo. Your little stunt played right into Torque's plan."

Baloo flashed his boss a languid, amused smile. In his opinion, Torque deserved what he had got. "Ya mean he wanted a black eye?"

"No, he wanted to get on the front page, and you got him there!" She snatched up a flying airplane and crumpled it in her paw.

The pilot launched two airplanes behind his back. With a self-satisfied smile, Rebecca caught them in a wastepaper basket as they collided mid-air. "You can't let every little thing upset you. You have to stay calm, cool, composed like me."

"Then why are you runnin' around like a chicken with yer feathers in a knot?" Baloo inquired.

Rebecca removed Baloo's brown leather bomber jacket from the newel post and hung it on a hook. "Because I'm expecting a visit from a very important client."

Baloo happened to glance out of the window where Martin Torque was talking to a turkey in a powder blue suit, thick glasses and flaming orange toupee. "Short guy, glasses, bad toupee?"

"Yes," Rebecca said tranquilly, continuing to dust her desk.

"Someone beat ya to him." Baloo chuckled.

"WHAT?" Rebecca flew to the window. Panicked to see her client talking to someone else, she raced outside. "Stop touching my client!" she shouted, clutching the turkey around the neck possessively; she knocked off his toupee in the process.

Torque said derisively, "He's my client now." He flashed a signed contract in Rebecca's astounded face.

Kit scooped up the toupee and gently placed it on the turkey's head.

"That's impossible...isn't it?" Rebecca looked at her former client. Her brown eyes begged him to reconsider.

The turkey straightened his bushy toupee. In an asthmatic voice, he averred, "Well...actually Professor Torque convinced me that I need an Auto Aviator. It's...it's much cheaper than your old-fashioned cargo service."

Rebecca became livid. Her calm, cool, composed attitude flew out the window. Everything that she had gone through to impress this turkey in order to acquire his business was going to the birds. All the time she had wasted. Time that she could have been spending with her daughter Molly, whom she never saw enough of. "But we've had phone calls! Meetings! Lunches!" Shaking the turkey by the lapels, she screamed, "I've listened to your frozen okra stories for a solid week!"

Baloo gently took his boss by her slender arm, bodily picked her up, and set her down next to Kit, chuckling, "Easy, Miz Calm-and-Composed." He strode to Martin Torque and his machine. Scowling, he said, "Look, Doc, I'm tired of hearin' about this tin-plated doohickey."

It was the moment Torque had been waiting for. Stealing Higher for Hire's client was just icing on the cake. He was actually enjoying the looks of disappointment and disapproval on the three bears' faces. "Are you challenging my Auto Aviator?"

Baloo rose to the bait. "Well...yeah!"

"Ah! A contest." The dumb bear bought it hook, line, and sinker, and didn't even know he was caught. This will prove it to Mr. Khan. "Baloo versus the Auto Aviator. The winner will be the world's best pilot."

Pointing to himself, Baloo declared, "And may the best pilot win."

Higher for Hire
Tuesday Morning

The city of Cape Suzette was buzzing with excitement over the race between man and machine. Nothing like it had ever been recorded in the annals of aviation history. Rebecca knew this race meant tons of free publicity for Higher for Hire. Consequently, the unpainted wooden building on the harbor's edge was decorated to the hilt. Large blue ribbons festooned either end of the Higher for Hire sign at the end of the dock and bunches of colorful balloons framed a gigantic sign saying: 'Big Race Today'. A crowd of pilots, reporters, and curious onlookers milled around the docks. Even the local radio station, K-CAPE, was present to broadcast the historical event.

"We should have sold hot dogs, Li'l Britches. We coulda made a fortune with this crowd," Baloo remarked to Kit as they watched Wildcat put the finishing touches on a couple of alterations in the Sea Duck's cockpit - objects to help the pilot remain alert on the journey.

"At eight in the morning?" Kit said skeptically.

Baloo grinned. "Anytime's a good time for a hot dog."

"Maybe you should have set the destination, Baloo. Forty hours is a long time to stay awake," Kit said uneasily.

Baloo fondly tousled the boy's hair. "Aw, forty hours is nuthin', kid. I remember one time Louie had a mambo-a-thon. The winner got ten free Krakatoa Specials an' a straw hat."

"A straw hat? I'm not even gonna ask."

"Guess who won?" Baloo cleared his throat and casually jerked a thumb at the huge monstrosity of a hat hanging on the cockpit's wall behind the pilot's seat.

"You." The young navigator flashed a wan smile. He had always wondered where Baloo had picked that thing up and why he had kept it.

The big bear grinned proudly. "You better believe it! Stayed awake for forty-nine hours straight. By the time it was over, I couldn't tell the ground from the sky."

"I wish I could go with you."

"Me, too, kiddo. Sure could use yer navigation know-how, but Torque wants it mano-a-machino. I s'pose it's more fair that way."

Kit was about to say that the whole race didn't seem fair when Rebecca approached them and roughly shoved her pilot towards where K-CAPE was set up in front of Higher for Hire. "Hurry up, Baloo! They're ready for you."

Dog Rather, K-CAPE's prominent radio announcer, began the broadcast. "Good morning, Cape Suzette. I'm Dog Rather, reporting from the scene of the great race between that ace of the skies, Baloo," Baloo puffed out his chest; "and the Auto Aviator, Professor Martin Torque's robotic pilot." Torque smiled smugly. "Yes, it's an exciting day for aviation here in Cape Suzette."

"At Higher for Hire," Rebecca said into the microphone.

Dog Rather shot an askance look at the bearess, who backed away, mumbling, "Well, we are at Higher for Hire."

"In a few minutes, the pilots will take off. Okay, here are the rules." He pointed to the map hung on the wall behind him. "Pilots will fly to Tundra City, pick up the cargo, and return to Cape Suzette. Round trip forty hours. Any questions?"

Martin Torque smirked. He knew it was an impossible task for any human pilot, but not for his robot. It needed no sleep. The Auto Aviator was sure to win.

"Yeah." Baloo snatched up the microphone, causing shrill feedback to echo across the harbor. "Why don't ya start sewin' my name on the winner's sash? That's Baloo with two oos."

"Pilots to the starting line," said Dog Rather.

Baloo and the Auto Aviator stood beside the gangplanks leading up to their respective planes on opposite sides of the dock.

"This is gonna be too easy!" Baloo gloated.

"Don't blow this, Baloo, or us freelance pilots will be out of jobs," hissed a canine pilot.

"Ready!" shouted Dog Rather.

"Don't blow this, Baloo, or us Khan pilots will be out of jobs," whispered one of Shere Khan's pilots.

"Get set!" yelled Dog Rather.

"You lose this one, and Higher for Hire's out of business!" Rebecca whispered loudly.

A baffled expression crossed Baloo's face. There was a lot more riding on this race than he had previously thought.

"Go!" screamed Dog Rather, firing a pistol into the air.

As the crowd cheered, Baloo scrambled into the Sea Duck's cockpit.

"Good luck, Baloo!" Kit called from the dock.

"Don't worry, Li'l Britches," Baloo said confidently. "With Papa Bear at the controls, this contest is no contest."

Kit cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the formidable-looking Auto Aviator in the red airplane. "I sure hope so," he muttered under his breath, crossing his fingers behind his back.

The two planes zoomed off with the Sea Duck in the lead. After they had disappeared between the cliffs, the crowd began to dissipate.

"Quick, Kit, hand these out before they all leave." Rebecca shoved a stack of fliers promoting her business into the boy's hands. "Remember to stress that Higher for Hire has the best pilot in the air."

"But, Miz Cunningham, what if Baloo doesn't win?"

"He has to," she said. She shot a fretful glance at the cliffs. The survival of her business depended upon Baloo's success. "Just pass them out."

Feeling extremely awkward, the boy stood on the dock and handed a flier to every passerby. Most of the fliers, he noticed, were ending up in the trash can or on the ground. One man even spit something into it, crumpled it up, and tossed it over his shoulder.

Kit grimaced. "I'm not picking that one up. Nope." He turned his eyes towards the cliffs and whispered, "Good luck, Papa Bear."

End of part 1