Apple podcast title the deep dive Stan Freyberg
st. George and the dragon at the 1950s dragnet
parody that made comedy history Apple podcast
description on this deep dive We unpacked the
fascinating story behind st. George and the dragon
at the 1953 smash hit comedy record by Stan Flayer
and Dawes Butler How did a satirical mashup of
medieval myth and gritty police procedurals sell
over a million copies in just three weeks? We
explore the iconic dragnet spoof that not only
topped the Billboard charts, but also created
one of the most famous pop culture catchphrases
of all time, even though the original show never
actually said it. Tune in to discover the behind
-the -scenes production laughs with creator Jack
Webb, the clever political satire of the Red
Scare, and why this 45 rpm single remains a masterclass
in parody. Keywords. Stan Freyberg, Dragnet parody,
St. George and the Dragonet, 1950s comedy records,
Dawes Butler, Jack Webb, classic radio satire.
Okay, let's unpack this because we are looking
at a piece of audio history today that just fundamentally
altered pop culture. Welcome to the deep dive.
Yeah, glad to be here to dig into this one. It's
a classic. Our mission today is to explore the
sources detailing a wildly successful 1953 comedy
record. It's called Saint George and the Dragonet,
created by the legendary Stan Freberg and Dawes
Butler. Right. And we really want to examine
how this meticulously crafted sketch, where they
mashed up ancient medieval folklore with the
rigid deadpan style of a mid -century police
procedural, how it became a massive number one
hit. It's just a brilliant concept, you know,
taking knights and dragons and treating them
like petty criminals in Los Angeles. Exactly.
And just to give you listening an idea of the
sheer scale we are dealing with here, our sources
note this short satire was recorded on August
26, 1953. Right. And then released on September
21 by Capitol Records as a 45 RPM single. In
its first three weeks alone, it sold over one
million copies. Which is... astronomical for
that time. Oh, absolutely. It shot straight to
the top of both the billboard and cash box record
shirts. Capital's pressing plants actually had
to run at maximum capacity just to keep up with
demand. What's fascinating here is the psychological
footprint this record left behind. I mean, it
basically serves as a prime example of the Mandela
effect. Oh, for sure. Yeah. Long before psychologists
even had a name for it, because when audiences
today think of the original dragnet radio and
television series, they almost universally associate
it with the famous catch phrase, just the facts,
ma 'am. It feels completely inseparable from
the serious, gritty character of Sergeant Joe
Friday. It does. Yet the sources confirm a startling
detail. That exact phrase was never actually
spoken in the original Dragnet series. Wow. It
is entirely an invention of the parody. Exactly.
In St. George and the Dragonet, Stan Fryberg
used a slight variation. He said, I just want
to get the facts, ma 'am. And because the comedy
record achieved such overwhelming cultural saturation,
I mean, moving a million physical units in 21
days, that single line literally overwrote the
public's memory of the actual police drama. The
satire became the definitive historical record
in the minds of the audience. That level of cultural
replacement requires a really sharp script. I
mean, Freeburg and Butler didn't just write a
few wacky jokes. No, they engineered a piece
of linguistic dissonance. They took the magical
elevated language of myth and forced it into
the rigid clip syntax of a police report, which
just perfectly highlights the absurdity of modern
bureaucracy. And we see this established in the
very first seconds of the record. The narrator
opens with a disclaimer that heavily mimics the
real dragnet introduction. Right, stating that
the legend is true, but only the needle should
be changed to protect the record. Exactly. That
medium -aware opening establishes immediately
that they are playing with the physical format
of the 45 RPM single itself. And the character
introductions maintain that exact same structural
discipline. Anyone familiar with Dragnet knows
Joe Friday's flat scene setting opener. This
is the city. So iconic. Yeah. So Freeburg St.
George steps into the audio frame and delivers
the parallel line with total deadpan precision.
This is the countryside. My name is St. George.
I am a knight. And the Foley work, the sound
design in that opening, it's equally vital. You
have to remember in the 1950s, comedy records
were often just simple recordings of stand -up
routines. Or vaudeville acts, right? Exactly.
But Freeberg was pioneering the use of the recording
studio as an instrument in itself. Underneath
that deadpan delivery, you hear the heavy, rhythmic
clanking of Knight's armor. Clank, clank, clank.
Right, perfectly mimicking the steady, purposeful
footsteps of a police detective walking a beat.
This auditory framing leads right into the specifics
of the investigation where the bureaucratic absurdity
really takes hold. The details of the crime itself
are just a master class in that framing. St.
George is out on a case looking for a dragon,
but the beast isn't framed as some existential
threat to the kingdom. No, the dragon is wanted
for devouring maidens out of season. Treating
a horrific monster attack as a mundane hunting
or fishing code violation completely undercuts
the majesty of the mythical setting. It reduces
the dragon to a local nuisance who is just ignoring
the regulatory calendar. So to build the case,
the script walks through standard witness interviews
utilizing a powerhouse cast of voice actors.
St. George first encounters a maiden voiced by
the legendary June Foray. Who later became famous
as the voice of Rocky the Flying Squirrel. That's
the one. And Foray gives the maiden this thick,
incongruous New York accent. When St. George
asks about the reliability of her information
regarding the dragon's attacks, she confidently
states she got it straight from the dragon's
mouth. Literalizing the common idiom. That is
so clever. It really is. Following that interview,
St. George questions a knave voiced by Dawes
Butler. The script folds and other classic nursery
rhyme elements by establishing that the knave
is currently accused of stealing tarts. Naturally.
And the knave is the one who provides the physical
description of the beast, which leads directly
to the structural anchor of the entire sketch.
When asked how a single knight plans to capture
a fire -breathing monster, St. George casually
reveals his specialized equipment. The dragon
net. It is a remarkably efficient pun. It serves
as the title and the conceptual core of the record.
Armed with the dragon net, St. George tracks
down the beast. The resulting arrest sequence
leans heavily into police procedural jargon.
St. George charges the dragon with a 502. which
is the specific penal code they invented for
devouring maidens out of season. Exactly. The
dragon's response elevates the scene into pure
metacomedy. Instead of going quietly, the dragon
bellows a massive, overdramatic roar of defiance.
A huge roar. And St. George, remaining completely
unbothered by the sheer volume, simply slaps
the beast with an additional charge. He cites
him with the 412 for overacting. acting prevalent
in post -war entertainment. The dragon isn't
just a suspect. It is a performer failing to
meet the stoic, understated demands of a dragnet
production. The resolution of the scene is suitably
piety. The record notes the dragon's fire is
quite literally put out, and its maiden devouring
license is officially revoked. A classic procedural
wrap up. The narrator then steps back in to finish
the narrative, perfectly mirroring the dry, legalistic
conclusions that ended every episode of the television
show. The listeners informed that the penalty
for maiden devouring out of season is a term
of not less than 50 or more than 300 years in
prison. Every single structural beat of the original
show is accounted for and subverted. But a script
alone couldn't have achieved this level of success.
Yeah. The audio environment needed to be completely
authentic. Right. Which required navigating a
significant hurdle regarding the show's musical
rights. Here's where it gets really interesting
regarding the production history. Freeberg knew
the parody would only work if the music played
it completely straight. He wanted to use the
original iconic dragnet opening theme. That instantly
recognizable four note motif. Yes, composed by
Walter Schumann. But Capitol Records was understandably
hesitant. They insisted Freeberg obtain explicit
permission from the star and creator of Dragnet,
Jack Webb. If we connect this to the bigger picture
of Hollywood in 1953, Jack Webb was a formidable
figure. Dragnet was a massive franchise spanning
radio, television, and film. Webb was famous
for his intense, almost obsessive dedication
to police realism. Very serious guy. Extremely.
He collaborated directly with the Los Angeles
Police Department. He had police chiefs review
his scripts, and he ensured the badges used on
screen were authentic LAPD designs. Capital Records
likely assumed a creator that protective of his
serious law and order brand would view a comedy
spoof as deeply offensive. Yet, Jack Webb's reaction
completely defied those expectations. When Freiburg
presented the concept, Webb was not only receptive,
but he was already a fan of Freiburg's work.
His response, according to the sources, was simply,
I was wondering when you'd get around to me,
Freiburg. That reaction highlights Webb's sophisticated
understanding of the media landscape. He recognized
that a high profile parody was essentially a
metric of cultural dominance. Wow, yeah. It proved
that the specific tone, pacing, and vocabulary
of his show had saturated the American consciousness
to the point where audiences would instantly
recognize the joke. And Webb went far beyond
merely signing a permission slip. He authorized
the use of Walter Schumann's original theme and
he actually allowed Freeberg to utilize the authentic
Dragnet Orchestra. The real orchestra? Yes. Walter
Schumann himself was brought into the studio
to conduct the music for the parody. The juxtaposition
of Schumann's legitimate high -stakes orchestration
layered underneath a script about a 412 charge
for overacting provides the critical tension
that makes the humor work. However, maintaining
that tension in the recording studio proved physically
difficult for the musicians. Oh, this is my favorite
part. The production notes detail a fantastic
challenge they ran into during the sessions.
The recording had to be stopped and restarted
repeatedly. Because the trombone players in the
orchestra were laughing too hard to physically
operate their instruments. These were highly
seasoned studio professionals, guys accustomed
to recording intense dramatic cues for a gritty
cop show, completely losing their composure over
a deadpan discussion about a knave stealing tarts.
It humanizes the production process beautifully.
And the collaboration between the comedy record
and the serious drama extended right into their
cross promotion. Because the music itself was
so popular, Schumann's theme was issued as sheet
music. And the marketing department made a brilliant
stylistic choice for the cover photograph. They
used a portrait of Stan Freiburg, but styled
it with intense, dramatic noir lighting to mimic
a gritty television still. They even had Freiburg
remove his glasses for the shoot, completing
the transformation into a hard -boiled detective.
Just total commitment to the bit. The entire
package was a multimedia triumph. Naturally,
a success of this magnitude demanded a B -side
that could match the quality of the A -side.
Right, the B -side of the 45 - And in this gritty
universe, she is actively accused of trafficking
goodies. The narrator's opening disclaimer on
this track, however, contains a specific variation.
The narrator states that only the color has been
changed, to prevent an investigation. The sources
identify this line as a direct, satirical reference
to the Red Scare investigations occurring in
1953. Okay, let's break that down. During this
period, the House Un -American Activities Committee
was aggressively investigating the entertainment
industry, often destroying careers in the process.
Now, We aren't here to endorse or condemn any
side of those historical events, but the sources
make it clear what Freiburg was doing. Right.
By explaining that the color was changed from
red to blue to avoid an investigation, Freiburg
proved this format was capable of delivering
sharp, highly topical political satire without
breaking the deadpan tone of the procedural.
It was a genuinely daring joke, given the climate
of Hollywood at the time. It really was. The
formula proved incredibly durable. Moving beyond
medieval myths and fairy tales, Freiburg and
Butler later applied the concept to a holiday
release. They produced a Christmas -themed sequel
titled Christmas Dragnet. Which is also known
in the catalogs as Yulanet. Yulanet, yes. Continuing
the tradition of tweaking the scene -setting
opening, the narration for the holiday sequel
begins with, this is the season. And the squad.
brings in a character named Grudge, who is subjected
to the full weight of a police interrogation
simply because he refuses to believe in Santa
Claus. So what does this all mean for the legacy
of these recordings? The impact of St. George
and the Dragonet extended far beyond its initial
multimillion copy run in 1953. In 1957, Freiburg
actually integrated the sketch into his own radio
series, The Stan Freiburg Show. Furthermore,
the sources show the record successfully bridged
the gap into the digital era. Its preservation
on compact disc really highlights its enduring
archival value. It was featured prominently on
the Dr. Domeno's 20th anniversary collection,
released by Rhino Records in May 1991. A staple
of comedy audio. Exactly. It appeared again in
1998 on the very best of Stan Freiberg, which
was a reissue of an earlier Capitol collector
series. And by 1999, it was cemented in the comprehensive
box set, Tip of the Freiberg. The Stan Freiberg
Collection, 1951 to 1998. The audio fidelity
and the sheer precision of the comedy allowed
it to find new audiences decade after decade.
It stands as a testament to the fact that meticulous
audio engineering combined with layered subversive
writing doesn't age the way standard topical
humor does. The clash between myth and bureaucracy
remains universally understood. This raises an
important question, something outside the scope
of the 1950s radio landscape that is absolutely
worth considering today. What's that? Well, we
discussed how Freiburg's parody overrode the
cultural memory of Dragnet, implanting a catchphrase
the original creator never wrote. If we observe
modern internet culture, we see this exact same
mechanism operating on a massive scale. Oh, that's
a great point. Think about viral audio trends
or meme templates on platforms like TikTok. Users
constantly strip a serious piece of media, a
dramatic movie scene, a news broadcast, a political
speech completely out of its original context.
And they replace the meaning with a comedic audio
track or a subversive caption. Exactly. Freeberg
was executing the analog, high -fidelity version
of a viral audio trend decades before the internet
even existed. It forces us to ask, is human memory
inherently vulnerable to a well -crafted punchline?
Are we wired to discard original context the
moment a piece of media is successfully repurposed
for our entertainment? It strongly suggests that
whoever controls the parody ultimately controls
the historical narrative. I want to thank you
so much for taking the time to join us on this
deep dive into the meticulously crafted fact
-finding world of Stan Feinberg, Dawes Butler,
and their mythical dragon net. We hope exploring
these sources gave you a new appreciation for
the mechanics of classic audio satire. Until
next time, keep asking questions and always stay
curious.