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.

Author’s note: It’s very rare for a cartoon to address serious topics, butTaleSpin 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!”  Louie  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  Ace 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.

“Thisgadget 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, evertouch 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?”

TheSea Duck came in for a perfect landing. “Wow! That robotcan 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?

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