Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings at a single bound, look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superman! Kellogg's Pep, P-Pep, Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal presents, The Adventures of Superman! Today, grave danger hovers over Jimmy Olsen as he leaves his home against Clark Kent's orders, hopeful of finding some clue to the mysterious disappearance of Editor Perry White. Hello there, gang, this is your pal Dan McCullough. Say, don't look now, but are you missing something? Something slick in the breakfast line called a peach roundup? Well, if you are, it's high time you join the stampede for this week's Pep Dish of the Week. Yes, sir, it's peach roundup for you. Now, let me show you the ropes. You lay half a chilled peach in your breakfast dish, cover it with your regular serving of Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal, and top with the other peach half, round side up. Say, will you be riding high when you tie up with this swell peach and Pep team? Of course, it's Kellogg's Pep that makes this super dish what it is. Pep is crisp. Pep is tender. Why, those toasty flakes are so golden-tasting, so all-out smacking, whacking good that, well, before you can say, yippee, you've made away with every last flake in your bowl. Sure. And just see if Pep doesn't make breakfast time roundup time for the rest of your family, too. See if they don't polish off their dishes of Pep clean as a whistle. Well, that's the hep thing to do, you know. Nobody wants to waste cereal, especially nowadays when the cereal grains are being sent to fellows and girls overseas. So remember, gang, eat all your Pep. Don't waste it. And now, the adventures of Superman. When John Grayson, millionaire publisher of the Daily Planet, appointed a man named Homer Smith to act as his personal representative, Smith ordered Editor Perry White to withdraw the planet's support from the World Peace Federation, and to attack it instead. But White defied Smith, and that evening, he disappeared. Saying he had a theory he wished to investigate, Clark Kent sent Jimmy Olsen home with strict orders to remain there. But shortly before midnight, the young reporter received a phone call from an unknown man who said he had a message for him from White and instructed him to come to the newspaper club. As we continue now, Jimmy has just left his house. It is a dark, moonless night, and the street is deserted. Jimmy hesitates a moment, remembering Kent's words. Promise me not to leave your house until morning. Oh, shucks. Nothing can happen to me at the newspaper club. I'll walk up to the boulevard and flag a cab. Wait one minute, kid. Huh? Who said that? Me. I said. Don't move. Stay where you are. Terrified, his legs suddenly like rubber. Jimmy stands rooted to the sidewalk, unable to move. As a huge, burly figure steps swiftly from the bushes and looms upon him. The young reporter tries to shout with his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. Then he recognizes Boris Harchenko, the brawny foreman in the Daily Planet printing room. Boris. Yeah, it's Boris. Oh, boy, did you give me a scare. I thought... Never mind, you thought. Why you do go out of house when Mr. Kent say you stay inside? Did Mr. Kent send you to watch me? Yeah. He say, Boris, I think Jim may be in danger. You go see he don't leave house tonight. Also see nobody go in Jim house tonight. Well, I've got to go to the newspaper club. You can come along if you want to. No, you don't go no place. Mr. Kent, he say, you stay in your house. Yes, by golly, you stay in house. Now, look, Boris. Come, Boris, take you inside. No, wait, will you listen? There's somebody waiting for me at the newspaper club. He knows about Mr. White. What about Mr. White? Well, you know he disappeared, don't you? Yeah, Boris knows. He's very sad. Okay, so I got a phone call just now, and this man, whoever he is, said he's got a message for me from Mr. White. What kind of message? I don't know. Now, look, Boris, if you're coming along, let go of my arm. I've got to get over to the club, and fast. No, no, Jim. You don't go there. Why? This business smells very bad to Boris. It smells like funny tricks. I think it's on the level, Boris. You see, I thought it was a trick, too, until he told me to meet him at the newspaper club. But only big-shot reporters and editors and correspondents and people like that belong to the club. So nothing can happen to me there. Now, come on, come with me. We've got to hurry. This is the newspaper club library, Boris, where the man said he'd wait for me. There's nobody here. Oh. That's funny. Like I say before, this is smell bad, Jim. Why should he tell me to come all the way down here if he... Oh, wait. Here comes a porter. I'll ask him. Oh, excuse me. I'm Jim Olsen of the Daily Planet. Yes, sir, Mr. Olsen. I've seen you here with Mr. White and Mr. Kent. Oh, that's right. Well, listen, somebody was supposed to meet me tonight, here in the library. Do you recall anyone waiting here? No, sir. Could you tell me who the gentleman is, Mr. Olsen? Well, I don't know. He just called me up to say he had to see me about Mr... About something important and said he'd wait in the library. I see. I'm sorry, but I don't recall seeing anyone in here during the last hour. Oh. Oh, gosh. I don't understand this at all. Puzzled and uneasy, Jimmy Olsen and Boris Archenko stand in the library of the newspaper club, uncertain of what to do next. Meanwhile, in John Grayson's fine home in a nearby suburb, Clark Kent is questioning Mrs. Grayson, wife of the Daily Planet publisher. So you don't know where your husband is, Mrs. Grayson? No, I don't, Mr. Kent. He packed a bag and left the house this morning, soon after you and Mr. White had been here. Didn't you ask him where he was going? Well, I... Yes? I... Look, Mrs. Grayson, I'm not merely being curious, you understand. Perry White has disappeared. And, well, it's just possible that Mr. Grayson might be able to help me trace him. I'm terribly shocked about Mr. White, but I really have no idea where my husband is, Mr. Kent. I... Well, I... I did ask him where he was going. What did he say? He said he didn't know. What? He said it depended on how certain affairs developed. Well, that's all he would tell me. That's odd. I'm really quite worried, Mr. Kent. My husband never acted this way before. Well, he hasn't been at all like himself lately either. How do you mean? Well, he's always been so hearty, you know, and good-natured. But lately he's been so quiet and distraught. Why, he never even smiles anymore. I tried to talk to him about it several times. But he just snapped at me. Sounds as if there's something on his mind, doesn't it? I'm sure there is something worrying him. But he won't admit it. And once or twice. Yes? Well, I... I had the distinct impression that he was terribly frightened of something. I'm sure he is. And John, why, he's never been afraid in his life. I can't understand it. I worry about it. Naturally. But I'm glad you've taken me into your confidence, Mrs. Grayson. Maybe I can help get to the bottom of this mystery. I do hope so. Tell me, do you know a man named Smith? Homer Smith? Well, yes. He's been here several times to see John. I believe he's some sort of business associate. Why do you ask? I'm a bit curious about him. What do you know about Mr. Smith? Very little, really. He had dinner with us once, a month or two ago. And he's dropped in several times since then. Usually in the evening when he and John close themselves in the den to talk business, he... Oh. What is it? Oh, I know this seems silly, but it just occurred to me that John always seems especially disturbed after one of Mr. Smith's visits. Oh, that's very interesting. Do you happen to know where Mr. Smith lives, Mrs. Grayson? Well, let me see. He mentioned it once. Oh, yes. I remember. He lives at the Metropolis Hotel. Metropolis Hotel? I left Lois there. I beg your pardon? Oh, nothing, nothing. I've got to leave now, Mrs. Grayson. Please don't worry about Mr. Grayson. I'm quite sure he's all right. Good night. Leaving the Grayson residence, Clark Kent steps behind a tall hedge and swiftly resumes his true identity of Superman. Then, off, off, and away. Leaping high into the night sky, Superman streaks back to the city and to the Metropolis Hotel, where the mysterious Mr. Homer Smith lives, and where Lois Lane is supposedly still waiting for Kent's return. Meanwhile, Jimmy Olsen and Boris Archenko, after fruitless questioning of clerks and page boys, have left the newspaper club and entered a taxi which was waiting at the curb. I don't understand why this guy phoned me and said he had a message from Mr. White and then wasn't at the club. It doesn't add up, Boris. No. All I know is, boating still smells bad, Jim. Very bad. Where to, Jets? A 1623 West... What? The driver, he asked, where we go. A 1623 West... Oh, go ahead, Boris. What did you say, driver? I said, where do you want to go? 1623 Western Avenue. Okay. Hey, what for... Boris, Boris, it's him. Him who? This taxi driver. He's the man who phoned me tonight. What? Yes, I'm sure of it. Now that I got a good look at him, I know he's the guy who drove Mr. White from the Balsam Building, when the chief disappeared. Boy, are we in a spot. His mouth dropping in shocked amazement, Boris Archenko looks from the excited Jimmy Olsen to the wiry, red-headed little driver at the wheel of their cab. We'll return in a moment for the tense climax of today's episode. So stand by. Say, if you're hep to Kellogg's Pep, most likely you're hep to eating a slick breakfast. And you're one of those up-and-at-em fellows or girls who tear off for fun. And every vacation day, all set for big doings. Because Pep sure does give your morning appetite the old one-two. Makes you want to eat plenty. Maybe it's that sunshine flavor, a keen sort of flavor that you can really latch on to. So good it practically begs to be eaten. Maybe it's the tender crispness of Kellogg's Pep, a delicate, crunchy crispness that, well, you practically can't resist. Or maybe it's the way Pep looks in your dish, all light and cool and inviting. But probably it's flavor and crispness and looks that make Pep so terrific. Why, you find each flake of Pep has you wanting more of the same so that, well, when you pitch in, you keep right on, and before you know it, you've cleaned up every last flake in your bowl. And that's the right idea, especially nowadays, because the cereal grains are being sent to give that good grain nourishment to fellows and girls overseas. So get hep to Pep, gang. And just remember, eat all your pep. Don't waste it. After boarding a taxi cab which was standing in front of the newspaper club, Jimmy Olsen gasped, then said excitedly to Boris Archenko, the Daily Planet printing room foreman, Who's driving this cab is the one who phoned me tonight. What? Yes, I'm sure of it. What's more, he's the one who drove Mr. White from the balsam building when the chief disappeared. You're sure, Jimmy? I'm positive. He's the same little red-headed guy. Uh-huh. What do we do, Boris? You don't worry, Jim. I fix him good. What? Say, what's he turning into this alley for? Leave him to me, Jim. I take care of this fella. You're not taking care of anybody, big boy. Look out, Boris. He's got a gun. Yes, and it's loaded. So you did remember me as the driver of Mr. White's cab, eh, Olsen? Huh? What do you mean? I heard you just now. That's why I got you down to the newspaper club tonight, so I could pick you up in my cab and find out if you could identify me. Now, wait a minute. Well, you recognize me, all right, and that makes it too bad for you, Olsen, and for your big friend here. Step out of the car, please. This is the end of the line for you. Trapped in the back of the taxi, Jimmy Olsen and Boris Archinko gaze into a gun muscle, leveled at them by the red-haired driver. And although they're scarcely one block from a busy street, in this deserted alley, the block might as well be a mile. There's no one to see or to hear what is going on. What will happen? What is behind this mysterious menace, which has thrown a millionaire publisher into deadly fear, has caused the disappearance of editor Perry White, and now threatens the lives of Jimmy Olsen and Boris Archinko? Tomorrow's episode is a thriller, gang, so don't miss it. Tune in, same time, same station. And remember, for breakfast, it's Kellogg's Pep. For excitement, the adventures of Superman. Superman is a copyrighted feature appearing in Superman DC comic magazines and is brought to you Monday through Friday at the same time by Kellogg's Pep, the sunshine cereal. You know, gang, famous names make history. And Kellogg, the greatest name in cereals, has made history with good breakfast eating for a long time. For example, Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. So crisp, so toasty, so delicious. Tender, plump biscuits, 15 of them to a package. That's 15 biscuits crammed with their own natural nut-sweet flavor and made just the right size to fit the bowl. And remember, this is whole wheat, so it's good for you, too. Ask Mother for Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. And be sure to be with us tomorrow for the thrilling adventures of Superman. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.
