Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. The carnival scream rises high on Broadway, carried high on plumes of neon light, and its shape is of many things. The metallic anguish of a trumpet shriek, the feudal beating against closed doors, the laughter bargained for, bought, paid for under the winking girl on the spectacular. Broadway's scream rises, shatters into fragments of glitter, prowls through the city, and finally touches you. Wherever you are, it touches you. For me it was a phone call. A girl dying, it said, from a jackknife in a diamond dance palace on Broadway. Come to it, Danny. Maybe you can grab yourself a free dance. The welcome committee is out, the pale girls with the scarlet streaked across their mouths, and the restless scarlet tipped hands playing in the spinning lights, reaching out for you. Someone called, said a girl was hurt. Where is she? Me, I called. Sure you don't want to dance with one of those girls first? Where is she? In the square. You're a square policeman. Come on, I'll take you to her. Georgia's the neat type, don't like to spoil the fun. That's why she picked the lonesome lounge to die in. You got her picked up where you're going to die. You should, you really should. The lounge with the beaded curtains, with Georgia. Get on, go dance. It's all right, Danny. You? You, Georgia? Me, Danny. Fran can stay, she's my good friend. Okay if she watches me die, isn't it? Who did it, Georgia? A dancer, keen dancer. You should have been here for his Mambo dance. It was a show. Oh, he stamped you, Georgia. That makes it all right to tell me. Who was it? He bought five dollars worth of tickets. A man like that, you feel you know. Don't ask his name. It spoils. With this knife? Yeah, wild dancing. I'm keeping it for a souvenir. Make sure it's with me in the coffin, huh Danny? Promise? You're a long way from home, Georgia. What brought you here? I like it here. Come here a lot. It's peaceful. The man blows the bugle so peaceful. The crowd, Georgia? The boys in the crowd stab you because you're not liked anymore? How can you talk when he's... Listen to it, Danny. Listen. A girl feels young again with music like that. A girl feels young again. After that the place got cluttered up. People started to come into the lounge. Policemen with notebooks. A woman in a tweed suit with a press card in her hat band. A couple of men with a stretcher. The only thing the doctor picked up on his stethoscope was a trumpet blowing what is called the blues because there was no heartbeat from Georgia Grey because she was dead. Find out why. Go now to Mott Street where it intersects an alley whose name no one remembers. Climb four flights of stairs and wonder briefly why the quality of sound and light in a tenement is like nothing else in the world. Walk a corridor where mice and men live together in perfect tolerance and stop at a door. Stand in the line a little bit more so I'll know who's... It's Danny Clover, Benny. Oh, you're coming to check? I'm okay, I'm okay. May I come in? Sure, sure. Yeah, I'm okay, Danny, I'm okay. Except for the stomach. It hurts when I press it. You've been behaving yourself, Benny? Well, since I got out of the hospital. Sure, sure. I've been doing it. You taught me to make things out of beads when I was resting in the ward. Belt buckles and ladies' accessories. You know why I came here, don't you? I ain't a stool pigeon no more, Danny. I get cured of that too. I'm a beader now. Who killed Georgia Grey? I'm a beader. How long since you checked in with your parole officer, Benny? Oh, Danny. What about Georgia? You know as much as me. Georgia was close to Nicky Gammon, you know that. Bought a shirt from him, ran down to the drugstore for him. What's the word on Nicky? The crowd ain't happy with him, Danny. Oh, Danny, leave me alone. I got an order from a lady down the hall for love bracelet. I got a delivery there and I'll be breaking my contract. Nothing else, huh? Say, help me, Danny. Nothing. Where's Nicky Gammon? I'm a beader now. Well, you, huh? Off your beaten path, aren't you, Danny? Inside, Nicky. Oh, it's strong armed, Danny. I was gonna invite you in anyway. Georgia Gray, Nicky. She's dead. The word came to me how you closed her eyes. I wish it had been me. Maybe you got there ahead of me, Nicky. Maybe you went dancing, saw Georgia in a place you never thought she'd be, killed her because she was getting away from you. Oh, you're tired, Danny, awful tired. No one gets away from me, not even the dead. Went into the den. I want you to meet my mother. If she'll be hurt, I don't show her my friends. All right, Nicky. I wouldn't want her to be hurt. People wish yours had been like her. Just wait. Mother, look what I brought you, Danny Clover. Sit down, Danny. Have a mint. Nicky has them made up special for me. Thanks, Will. Special, huh? Nothing too good for my mother. It's always been like that with my son, up to now. Nicky hasn't been good? He let his girl die in a cheap place, dancing with another man for pay, for dimes. That cheap is his name. You could have stopped it, Nicky. How could I have known, Mother? I told you I could... Don't snap at me, Nicky boy. I'll slap your mouth, wash it out with doit. Georgia liked that hole, Danny. I never understood why. She tried to explain it to me about the music, about dancing. Crazy for dancing. Who understands these things in a girl? When she had everything a girl... Everything you gave her, everything you worked hard for. You're getting your share, huh, Mother? The funeral too, Nicky. Will you buy me one like the one you're buying for Georgia? Let me show you the invoices, Danny. I never knew dying came so high. Inflation, huh? Maybe it'll wipe out the taste of what happened to her, where it happened to her. It's just a maybe, son. Don't build a monument on it. Wanna know why they killed her, Danny? You know, Mrs. Gannon? They think my son is finished, done, used up. They killed a girl to frighten my Nicky boy. And you know what? My boy's frightened. Who does that to you, Nicky? Your friends? Your boys? You'll know when you see their bodies on a slab. They'll be in all the papers. You'll save the clippings for me, huh, Nicky? Isn't she a dream, Danny? I told you. Wonderful girl, my mother. When I got back to headquarters, there was a file on my desk. The neatly centered sticker on its front cover was typed Georgia Gray. Open it, read it, digest it. Georgia Gray, age between 25 and 29, computed from data gathered from arrests. Hometown, Salina, Kansas. Followed a soldier to New York port of embarkation in 1943, but never caught up with him. So she stayed. Counter girl in a five and ten. Then model for ladies garments. Then nightclub hostess. And two years ago in night court, after losing a race with a squad car, she said she'd retire because I don't have to work anymore, she said. No better reason, she asked. Name linked with Nicky Gannon from here on in. Address Park Avenue, expenses shared by Fran Holland, who said now she'll have to look around. First thing I'm gonna do is get another roommate. Did you get along well with Georgia? She had her ideas, I had mine. You know what I mean? Tell me. No, this and that. Georgia was quite a pretty girl. I'd say she was beautiful. Yeah, I guess she was very beautiful. Very. Ah, but she was ruining it. Ran around dance, but she didn't enjoy herself. I know she didn't. She only enjoyed herself relaxing here with me. Something I haven't made up my mind about. Well, you better make up your mind about it, Danny. Sure. She had all that dough and she lived with a dance hall hostess with me. You know why? Because she needed someone like me. To run home to her. Right. So she could have soft hands rubbing the back of her neck. To bring her cold tomatoes when she needed it. She run the orphan, Fran? Look, Danny, she was dance happy. That's why she hung around the place I worked. A little bit of music and a guy in a high waistband with two strong feet could make her smile like she was happy. Did Nicky Gannon mind that she stepped out on him? Why did Nicky care? He used her for a front for his business. He didn't care about a dancer. Who killed her, Fran? A man. What else but a man. What man? Who? You know what you ought to do, Danny. You know Tommy Chandler? Nicky's hood? The padded shoulder that stands near Nicky with his hand in his pocket. Ask Tommy. See how he reacts when you ask him. You know where Tommy is? I know where he'll be in the morning. You know where the ducks are in that pond in Central Park? Eight o'clock he throws them bread. Stale bread. So what do ducks know? That one over there likes pumping Nick, old Danny. Here, eat my piece. You'll make an impression. We've got none of these advantages at city jail, Tommy. You gonna arrest me, kid? No. Ducks will miss me. You want a piece of pumpkin nickel too, Herm? Sure you do. You see how Herm looked at me, Danny? Sad. Like he already knows about the arrest. What are you taking me down for? We'll think of something. Feeding the Pintails in Central Park? I won't be able to hold up the head for the shame, huh? Let's go, kid. That's your squad car over there. You gonna blush when I say suspicion of murder? That's been done to me too. You didn't come out for a long time. Georgia. You got me case for that. Georgia was murdered. Maybe Nicky Gannon goes too. The whole crowd will miss him. I'll tell you something else. Whoever stabbed Georgia ain't gonna be around long, eh? The crowd will see to that, huh? I didn't say that. I just said a prediction, that's all. Who takes over if Nicky is robbed, Tommy? You? Take over what? The backroom poker game for matchsticks? What are you talking about? Look, baby, arrest me if you want, but don't ask me stupid questions. It makes Herm nervous. Here, Herm. There you are, boy. Herm looked sad when I took Tommy away from him. All the ducks looked sad. For a minute. Then they found a new love where to stay a loaf of bread, swam away screaming for it. Tommy looked back over his shoulder, stopped to call them a name, got shoved into the squad car. But on the way down, a code call, a woman's voice in the police radio, man dead, she announced with a quiet number. Then she said it plain, in an alley, 4th Street, off 6th. Get there, car 62. We got there. Mind if I tag along, Danny, man dead. I recognize him, the number. We gotta share these things. Hold your gun on him, Muggerman. He wiggles a toe, break it for him. Pleasure, Danny. Let me through. Let me through. They can't scare you anymore, can they, Nicky? Not anymore. He was propped up against the wall, his head thrown back, his mouth open. Like he was trying to tell someone about it. The furtive dog scrubbing for food in the trash, not listening. The small crowd he'd assembled because the blood sighed across his shirt front, but not listening. Watching an alley wind gather soot at his feet. Watching me lean over him. Watching Nicky Gannon. That Nicky Gannon. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. You'll find Jack Benny in the desert this Sunday night on CBS. Jack and his gang are making a safari to entertain the boys at an air base in Nevada. And for more laughs, there'll be another session with Eve Arden as the gay romantic, fun loving school teacher, R. Miss Brooks, on most of these same CBS stations. Broadway is wide enough for everybody. Places and open touring cars, blondes in taxis, and sailors against lampposts. It's the place to come to for one reason or another, to be a tourist or get stared at by the tourists, to make a pitch, buy a bargain, get cheated, insulted, or have your picture taken and end the day with a memory, depending upon what you wanted, what you got, and what you gave for it. And part of the day's memento of Broadway will be the news item, Nicky Gannon shot down in an alley, hoodlums slain in new outbreak of mob violence, police seek clues in killing, especially me and another man, a Sergeant Geno Tertaglia, who had once passed a civil service examination. And the medical examiner, Dr. Sinski, reveals that death was caused by hemorrhage in the pleura, parentheses, lungs, closed parentheses. And that is why Nicky Gannon was done in. Thanks, Geno. Oh, you're quite welcome, I'm sure. Anything else? May I? Yes, you may. Thank you. You know, Danny, this shooting up an alley brings to mind a case which was solved by Lady Jane Pugh, the ne'er-do-well girl detector from London town. Do we have to, Geno? Lady Jane looked at the deceased and flipped her shiny tuppence. Flipped her what? Her shiny tuppence. Lady Jane has a lucky tuppence, which she flips before she undertakes a case. That Lady Jane. May I interrupt? Oh, you're the boss. Do you have anything else to tell me about Georgia Grey or Nicky Gannon, please? Oh, indeed I do, Danny, indeed I do. In the murder of Nicky Gannon, Tommy Chandler, our prime suspect, has been released and without a nickel's worth of bail. What? I have said it. So help me if you're kidding, Geno. Why was he released? Well, because another fellow has confessed to the deed. You remember Cozy Barrett? Even at this moment, he is with Sergeant Muggerman, confessing all over the place. And that, Danny, is all the news I have for today. Case is solved, huh, Danny? Isn't that all of it, Sergeant? George ain't all of it. Lots of people met with me then ended up under a sheet in the house. You killed before, Cozy? Oh, hi, Danny. Come on in. Join the fun. This is a new kick, isn't it, Cozy, for you? Confessing to a murder? What's the matter? You don't trust me? Read me to him, Sergeant. I'll brief it for you, Danny. Cozy says he took a pocketful of dimes to the dime-a-dance joint where Georgia Gray was. To celebrate the end of a perfect day, he tells me. You danced with her, Cozy? Sure I danced. How else I get close enough to kill? You didn't like the way she danced, huh? Crazy for it? Dream about it. Who else I dance away my heart undone? That buys you her dying, too, huh? Oh, she gives his insults. And from a foot away, that. But I got close. Eventually I got close. Yeah, yeah. Get on the phone, Muggerman. Have a policewoman stand up here with a portable radio. Danny, you all right? You've been working so hard. You got a thing against telephones, Muggerman? Yeah. Okay. Okay, I'll do it. What are you gonna do, Danny? You got tricks with batteries and portable radios to make people talk? I'm talking. Why you need electricity? Should be right up, Danny. You're gonna put me away, huh, Danny? To the sound of music, huh? You treat me nice because I'm nice to you, huh? Killing. A little out of your line, isn't it, cozy? I always figured you as more of the purse-snatcher type, the jack-roll kid, the friend a drunk finds in an alley. Well, I got a right to come up in the world, ain't I? This gives me class, a reputation, and things a fella needs so he can admire himself in the night. Sure, I understand. Man has to get ahead. You send for me, Lieutenant? You want this? Yes, come in, please. Turn on the radio. Go on, turn it on to dance music. That'll be all right. Dance with the lady, cozy. Huh? Go on. Dance with her. You're crazy, Danny. I get myself up to you and you go crazy. There are people like me, aren't there? Dance with her like you did with Georgia. Show me how it was with Georgia. You know I can't dance, Danny. You're a big man. You know, you're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You're a big man. You know, I wouldn't go near a dame to dance with her. They laugh at my face when they see me coming. You were never near Georgia, Gray, were you? Not even close enough to... They promised me they'd get me off, Danny. They said confess and then when I got off they'd give me the big dough. Who promised you all that? Well, friends, Danny. I got good friends. They promised me things. They called me up and promised me things. You gotta lock me up, Danny, so I don't disappoint them. You gotta lock me up. Make it come true for him, Muggum, and lock him up. Now the afternoon was two hours old and the gray had turned into a wetness. A drizzle had hung, scurrying in the air before it touched the pavement. The citizens didn't mind getting wet. It was a sight to see. The funeral procession wasn't very long. Not like the good old days when a gangster's death took up a mile of Broadway. Not like the good old days at all. None of the mourners walked. They all rode. And the wreaths were wrapped in cellophane, which not only protected the snapdragons from the rain, but it was more sanitary. I went along because I'd known Nicky Gannon for a long time. The rain let up a little and they lowered him into his grave. And none of the mourners stayed, not even his mother. And I wanted to talk to his mother. Mrs. Gannon? Hello, Danny. You want a ride back to town? I wanted to tell you how sorry I... If you talk like that, you don't ride with me. Come on. My son was a hoodlum. Why should you be sorry for him? We've talked together. We've had a beer together. That's the reason. You cry. Not me. Whatever you want. He was your son. My son got scared. Men get scared. A man don't live anymore. And that's all his dying does to him, Mrs. Gannon? Look what I've got, Danny. A thug's funeral on a rainy day. He was your son. He's dead, Danny. I'm not. I'll think about him. Some things will come up in my mind from time to time, but I've forgotten about right now. And I'll smile. And I'll think nice about Nicky then. You know who killed him? I know. Who? I said I know. The same person who killed Georgia? If I let you out of the car now, you'll get wet. You gonna do anything about the person who killed Nicky? I'm sure of it, Danny. Sure of what? It's gonna rain all day. Funny, ain't it? The paper said it was. You in a hurry, Danny Clover? Yeah, I am. Bother you, mister? Mm-hmm. But it bothers me more, your unhappiness. Let's have a good cry over at my office, huh? Here in the hallway suits me. Used to draft the hallway, spend my life in them, waiting to do things for unhappy people. Spreader of good cheer. That's your business at police headquarters, mister? What name do you spread it under? Forbes, Consulate Law, my card. Forbes, Consulate Law. Someone came to you, said I was unhappy. You took the case. Almost precisely how it happened. I told you what makes me sad. Kindly, people. They grieve when a policeman throws away a confessed killer. Cozy Barrett? It seems to them almost ungrateful. However, they respect your analytical prowess. You got something I can hang on my wall that says that? Something much better. Silver cup, maybe, with an inscription. Better? An envelope, manila with money. It could take you hours to count. No silver cup, huh? Better? A bonus, the killer. The real true killer of George and Nicky. That could bring so much happiness to a man like you. Where do I find it? Mm, where else? Envelope and killer. The Dime and Dance Palace, where George had danced upstairs one o'clock. That's this morning. Be there in a smile and grow on your face. You've brought me true happiness, counselor. Thank you. Then he walked away. At the end of the hall, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, grinned at me. Then he turned up his collar and walked out into the street. This was at 7 p.m. Then I walked down Broadway and dinner and a double feature on 42nd Street. Then it was time to go. The Dime and Dance Hall was blaring against its time of closing. I walked through it, pushed my way across the floor into a doorway. No one stopped me. Then up a flight of stairs and into a loft littered with old telephone books, cigarette butts, a neatly stacked bundle of year old newspapers. The only light, the light from the spectaculars down the street spelling out the evening's pleasure. 40 girls, 40, no cover charge. Up front with Willie and Joe, continuous performance. Chinese food, fried rice and dancing. I waited. I didn't wait long. You here, Denny? Come on in, Tommy. Thanks. I brought you something. It's all yours, Denny. Who is he? The killer that got promised to you. Dead? Uh-huh. You bring the envelope, Tommy? You bring it? Sure. Sure I brought it. Yeah. Count it, she'll lose you. 15,000. I don't know, Tommy. A dead killer. How am I going to explain a dead killer? I thought of that too. What did you come up with? Denny, I found a guy in Skid Row. He wasn't doing anybody any good, so I figured he could do us some good. So you shot him? With a police positive, just like you carry. Here's the gun. You track this killer down, he tried to escape, you shot him, makes you a hero. That's right. And how many heroes have 15,000 dollars? We're going to get along fine. You've taken over for Gannon? I deserve, don't I? Yeah, yeah, you do. Killing Georgia and Nick again, sure you deserve it. It's a courage. You don't know how much. Had me sweating there for a while, and she didn't die right away. Only, Georgia was a girl with character. Live and let live. Die and let live. Great girl. Well, I'll call you from time to time, Denny. Wait a minute, Tommy. I'm used to it, Denny. I said I'd call you. Don't go away. You're under arrest for murder. You practice in being a cop. Don't be a cop around me. You forgot something, Tommy. I can't be anything else. Let's go. Because you're pointing the police positive. You got trouble, sucker. It's that way all over. Don't let me fall. I got your coat. Don't let me fall. I don't want to die that way. Hold me. Yeah. Denny, Denny, hold me. His fingers clawed against the sheer stone. Denny. Body twisting, face tortured. Denny. Pleading for a return to life. Denny. His body hung on the wall. Out of reach. Then the fabric that held his life together gave way. And the noise of the street came up to meet him. Killed his scream. When I got outside and walked through the gathering crowd, I remembered something in my hand. Tommy Chandler's torn coat. It's the gathering place of all the sleepless nights this Broadway and all the unwept tears. The place to come to, erase what's happened, start all over, make a memory, and try to forget it if you can. It's Broadway, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway, my beat. Broadway is My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia and Jack Crouchon as Muggavin. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's cast, Anthony Barrett was heard as Tommy Chandler, Francis Chaney as Fran Holland, Martha Wentworth as Mrs. Gannon, Larry Dodkin as Nikki Gannon, Joy Terry as Georgia Gray, Leo Cleary as Benny Fane, and Junius Matthews as Cozy. Every Saturday night on CBS, Jan Murray gets on that coast to coast phone and gives away a thousand dollars at a crack if you can identify the Phantom Boys. Be listening for Sing It Again, which follows immediately on most of these same CBS stations. Joe Walters speaking. This is CBS, where you'll laugh at Jack Benny every Sunday night. The Columbia Broadcasting System.
