This is Bob broadcasting from Topeka, Kansas, Hope, and thanking the sponsor of your regularly scheduled program for this two-minute interruption. Ladies and gentlemen, in the last 10 years, I've visited many dramatic spots in this world, but just a few minutes ago, I returned from a tour of what was once North Topeka, Kansas. I've just seen block after block of total destruction, streets caved in, buildings undermined and flattened, entire new housing developments as shambles, with the houses jammed together like battered boxes. As we toured this sickening area, I thought of the heroics that must have accompanied this disaster as it happened. The emergency operations of the Red Cross, Salvation Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, veterans organizations and the thousands of civilian volunteers, all striving to hold this hungry call river within its banks. Then the complete frustration when it crashed into the streets. But the excitement of that time has passed. Today it's a dismal task of dirty drudgery. Imagine the heartbreak of returning to what was once your home and finding three feet of dried mud on the front porch. After scraping and digging for hours, you finally get the door open only to find dried, drifted mud banked throughout the house with everything in it destroyed beyond repair. Countless of the heartbreaking stories of human despair, this great flood of 1951 is written. But you and I, neighbors of these Call Valley folks of Kansas, can help. And I mean help with dimes and dollars. The Red Cross and other agencies have done a magnificent job taking emergency care of 10,000 to 15,000 refugees. And they're still doing great work in helping the needy with rehabilitation. But that's a far cry from the tremendous job that lies ahead. In Topeka alone, the loss is 100 million. That amounts to $1,000 for each and every person in this city. I'm appealing to that great heart that has made America. It's never failed before. Won't you send your contribution, large or small, to flood Topeka, Kansas? That's all the address you need. Flood Topeka, Kansas, and join me, Bob Hope, in bringing new hope to thousands of unfortunate American folks. Thank you. The William Wrigley Company has donated the time for this message from Bob Hope. Now, after a short pause, we switch to Hollywood for your regular program, Broadway is My Beat. Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum, the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment, presents for your listening enjoyment. Broadway is My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway is My Beat, the exciting drama of mystery and murder and the people who walk the great white way with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. The delicious, long-lasting, real mint flavor of Wrigley's Spearmint cools your mouth and freshens your taste. The good, smooth chewing helps keep you feeling fresh and alert, adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. So, indoors, outdoors, at Worker Play, enjoy chewing Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. Wrigley's Spearmint, refreshing, delicious. When the summer becomes August, Broadway pauses for a while, considers what happened to the springtime dreams to be fulfilled in the middle of July at the very latest, and what did the blonde on last month's snapshots, the one with sunny legs, the one you tried with poetry and she touched your cheek, the fawn of camp never cared, jewel of the Catskills. She's back in the Bronx shoe store, kid, and the last time you walked by, she didn't look so good. And walk the streets furious with people and heat, and feel your throat tighten when it suddenly comes to you. Another summer's rushing away. Maybe next year, kid. Maybe. And uptown, east of Broadway, where I was, in the outdoor swimming pool catering also to the seekers after something or other, the crowd was divided into swimmers, non-swimmers, sand sitters, ukulele players, and miscellaneous. And the man in the swimming trunks, lying on the concrete walk, the man who had drowned, the police emergency crew working over him with a respirator, the man from headquarters who had gotten there before me. They've been working on it for quite a while, Danny. Why'd you call me to come down, Muggerman? I asked the same question of patrolman Kenny. It's like this, Danny. Kenny was flagged off his beat when this man was dragged out of the pool, took off the man's locker check, went to the locker, you know, for identification. The locker was empty. Forced? Uh-uh. No, those locks answer to a dime store skeleton key. Robbery gets a dozen calls a day from these pools. So you figure that man's drowning and his lockers being robbed had something in it? Maybe a coincidence, Danny. Maybe something else. I don't know. I wanted you to be here in the cave. Let's take a look. One of your men called the morgue. A lifeguard who pulled him out is that one, Danny. You want to talk to him? Uh-huh. I'm from the police, Danny Clover. Uh, Russ Gavy. What happened here? Well, I was on my stand. Him, he started to yell. I went in after him. How'd you get those scratches on your shoulder? He fought me. I had to take him under to break his hold, and when he stopped struggling, I got him out. By that time, he needed artificial respiration. I gave it to him. I said, your man came. All right. Did Detective Muggerman here tell you this man's clothes are gone and it's going to be pretty difficult to identify him now? Yeah, he told me. Any ideas about it? Nope. Okay, Russ. Back to the office at headquarters and sit with it. A man had been drowned in a public pool, from a policeman's point of view, worth only a quarter-page form and triplicate. However, the fact of his lockers being robbed may be something else again. Probably not. More forms. Then a couple of hours later, when the office gathers up its private shadows, a door opens, a man walks in. Danny, you busy? Come in, Dr. Sinski. Sit down. Thank you. I just came from the autopsy room, Danny. And? Has that man brought in from the swimming pool to drown them? Has he been identified, Danny? Not yet. What's on your mind? He was murdered. Murdered? How? Whoever administered artificial respiration to that man killed him, as surely as if he had driven a knife into his heart. Dr. Sinski, it's... Gently, Danny, gently. I'll explain. Inside of the chest, Danny, is a delicate system of balances. Balances which cannot be upset. Else, a man's heart will be affected in his lung. What's that got to do with murder? Simply that the autopsy I just performed on the drowned man revealed small internal hemorrhages. Bruises of the muscles and bones of the chest from too active a manipulation. You mean that lifeguard didn't do... I mean he did a very bad job of artificial respiration. That's why you call it murder. Not premeditated, of course, doctor. This is not the question in your mind. You wanted to ask if it was premeditated, didn't you, Danny? And let the question take over the room. Add the weight of its violence to the oppressive night heat. The stifling remembrance of other such questions posed in the same room quietly, fearfully. Because a policeman too reacts to the touch of death. It fills the room and against its pressure you lift the phone, make the call to the Department of Public Works, have them check personnel files. Come up with an address for Russ Gavy, lifeguard. Go there to the hall bedroom furnished in the style of brownstone, East 20s. Find it empty of Russ Gavy. Be told on the way out by the woman spread wide on the stoop you should have asked before. Russ was across the street in the park on that bench fighting for his share of the night air. Walk up to Russ, let him chew the last fiber of a matchstick. And taking my well-earned rest. You want to help, Mr. Clover? Sure. Can I sit down, Russ? Yeah, sit down. You were almost a hero today, Russ. You're kidding. That's how I make my daily summer bread, 50 bucks a week. Ogle a girl, save a life. How long you been a lifeguard, Russ? Oh, six, maybe seven summers. Time out for a frolic on Anzio Beach. Then you've had a lot of experience saving people from drowning. Am I allowed to share? The medical examiner down at headquarters says that man you're trying to say... Yeah, I remember. The medical examiner says he was murdered. Huh? How come? A man says it was murdered because artificial respiration wasn't applied properly. Well, your man is a smart man. But a four-bit-a-week lifeguard does the best he can. He studies in classes, he follows a first aid manual. You call him a murderer because he didn't make out with one poor slob. You tell me, Russ. You murder the man? Now, considering the percentage of lives that are saved and not saved by such as we, that's a question you may never be able to answer. How come? I'll keep trying, Russ. You won't mind, huh? Danny, why don't you never turn on a light? You sit like this in the dark by yourself. I got one of the tautaglia kits at home, does the same thing. You both make me feel the same way. You've got your problems, haven't you, Gene? Yeah, I could do without them. You in the mood, Danny? Sure, for whatever. What have you got? Nothing. No progress on identification of the drowned man. No progress on a connection between him and that lifeguard, Russ Gavy. Reports on Gavy state, he is looked up to at the pool by girls and lady-sized swimmers. Occasionally, he buys for one or the other a beer at the concession stand. Occasionally, escorts one or the other type to her home, deposits it, goes to the newsstand, buys super-type magazines, goes to his room. Healthy, normal muscle boy. Maybe a murderer, Gino. Oh, pardon me, Danny, but I must take on... Sergeant tautaglia speaking. Yes? Yeah, I got it. Hanson's Porn Shop, East 34th. I told you I got it. They bother us with such... Such what, Gino? A man with a pawn shop got the nudges in the midst of a nice conversation because somebody who works in a pool hocked a suit of clothes. Valuables. Look to this Mr. Hanson like stolen goods. An East 34th? Yeah. Why bother yourself with it, Danny? Because maybe it'll give me the name of a murdered man. You might ask me why I called the police, Mr. Clover, after so many months of abstemiously staying away from your fellows. All right, Mr. Hanson, why? Because there was something fishy about it this time. This suit, this watch, ring, money clip was brought me by a boy who's an attendant at a public pool. A pool on Upper Broadway? Inevitably that pool where that unidentified man was drowned. His thing stolen. You read about it, of course. Who brought these to you? A boy. I know him well. I've had dealings with him intermittently. Who's the boy? Bobby Kent. He's got a room in one of those crates on East 37th. 1654, East 37th. Just asked for Bobby. We all know him. And you think these things belong to the drowned man? The man was robbed where Bobby works, died where Bobby works. Bobby pawns things that obviously don't belong to him. What is there left for a decent man to think, Mr. Clover? Then the three walk to the languid summer night, the city bound and the dream bound people in the sandstone steps who find their delights in a pop bottle, or by taking possession of a star in the sky, or by cooling themselves with a fan courtesy of Swanson's chicken fricassee. Pass them and mind the kiddies at their nighttime play, the patter of little feet up on alley, and arrive at the address on 37th Street. And over one of the bells see a name, Bobby Kent, apartment three. And the sound you hear is the far-off thunder made of heat and air currents and stratosphere. And the lightning through the window at the end of the corridor lights up the number three on a door, briefly. Then again. Bobby, Bobby Kent, this is the police, Bobby, open up. I'm coming in, Bobby. Bobby was in. His shirt was ripped, his face bloody, hands tied behind his back, belt around his neck, and the belt was strung over a pipe near the ceiling. When I brought over a chair to stand on, there was lightning again, and the whole room was stark white for an instant. It took a while to get Bobby down, but it didn't matter. Bobby had been dead when I got there. Bobby had been murdered. For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley Spearmint gum. When your mouth feels dry, when you're warm or tired, Wrigley Spearmint is really refreshing. The lively full-bodied real mint flavor cools your mouth, moistens your throat, freshens your taste. And the chewing itself gives you a little lift, helps you feel your best and do your best. So for chewing enjoyment plus pleasant refreshment, chew delicious Wrigley Spearmint gum. We now continue with Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway leans against a doorway, flips a coin and makes odds on the 31 days of August. This month, kid, it'll come in. The Philly in the third, the dreamboat, the oil on that little piece of property at least in the Texas Badlands. Gotta come in. Otherwise, what have you been building, kid? Gotta come in. So you can indulge the whim of the hour, enjoy it, own it. All that neon, yours to turn on or off. That music of the dance calling to you from basement dance lands. Yours to play soft or loud or cut off like that. Dance in dark and in stillness if you want. The traffic signals pushing back the people. Yours to make say stop, go. You're a king, man, with headlines at your feet. Boy murdered, hung by belt in tenement room. Unknown man drowned in public pool. All yours, kid. Clean shuffle, a minute of luck and it's all yours. And the next morning at headquarters, consider your share of it. Yours and Detective Muggerman's. You still stick with that, Danny, that the man in the pool was murdered? Yeah. You don't like it? Oh, it's not that, Danny. It's only so many people drowned, so many can't be saved. You're gonna go back and call everyone that wasn't the murder victim? Russ gave me as a trained lifeguard. He told me the man fought him, had to be pushed under. Happens that way sometimes, Danny. It could have been the other way around. It could have been Russ wanted the man dead. It could have been he fought the man, drowned him, finished him with his own brand of artificial respiration. Could have been. But where's the string that knots it, Danny? What connection is there? That kid that was hung, Bobby Kent, the attendant at the pool. That could be a connection. Because he stole a man's clothes out of a crummy locker? We're not even sure they belong to the drowned man. What do we know about the mug of it? Well, from the cleaner's marks, they belong to a man named Howard Crawford. Married. He checked his wife. She'll be at the morgue to identify in a half hour. Would have come sooner, wanted to go out and buy a dress first. I let her. Oh, go down and meet her. You get whatever you can on Bobby Kent. Friends, people he stole from, whoever wanted him dead. I'm working on it. Put a tail on Gavy. Every breath he breathes, I want to report. Got it. Anything else, Danny? Yeah. Why does a woman need a new dress to look at a dead man? I don't know. Ask her when you see her. Are you ready, Mrs. Crawford? Waiting for you? All right. Just look at this man and tell me if he's here. Okay, okay. Put him back. He's mine. Can we get out of this place now? Of course. Let's through this door. You want to sit down on this bench for a minute? Or else, huh? Sure, I'll sit. What do you think of my husband, Mr. Clover? Can you imagine it? Howard getting himself a piece of marble in a police morgue. When did you see him last? I got out of a warm bed yesterday morning on account of the phone ringing. It was for Howard. He pinched my cheek, said, goodbye, honey, I'm going out of town. This happen often, his going out of town? In his line, salesman. And you didn't see him after that? Look, boyfriend, I was in the middle of a beauty exercise, bend overs for the figure. I was grabbing my ankles, I looked back, there he was going out of the house. Doesn't it seem strange to you that he didn't go out of town, that he was found? It's strange to me he's dead, but I'm going to get used to it. Who do you know had a reason for murdering him? Murder? I thought you said he drowned. Do you like to swim, Mrs. Crawford? You see this sunburn, you think I got it standing under a hot iron? Look at it, see? How you like it? Did you get it at that swimming pool up town? Coney. I know a part of Coney where they carry a pretty good crowd. That's where this burn came from. There's a lifeguard at that pool. I go to Coney where they carry a million on a weekend. I don't confine me to public pools up town. Did you have anything to do with your husband's death, Mrs. Crawford? Now I'm a girl who's going to tell you the truth, boyfriend. Every time I've thought of it, I've wished Howard dead every hour on the hour. And I wished him dead on the half hour too, but that's when the race results came over the radio. Howard, things have come true. I've wished for him. That's all, Mrs. Crawford. You can get out of here now. Watch her reapply the lipstick and readjust her clothes and walk away from her dead to a summer rhythm that no longer held any part of him. A woman starting the new day fresh, the memories she had submitted to now happily dead on a marble slab. And at the end of the corridor, the street sunlight touching her face for an instant, darting away, leaving only pallor and the smear of scarlet on her lips. Back in the office, order a shadow for Mrs. Crawford. And a telephone report from Muggerman. He had found a girl who was the girlfriend of Bobby Kent, a box office girl in an all-day, all-night movie on East 125th. Lucille Lang, on duty for the rest of the day and night. How many? Police, Miss Lang. Take back your badge. It don't buy you nothing. You were a friend of Bobby Kent's. Nick, you want to lose me my job? All we want, Miss Lang, is- All you want is to mark me lousy with the management. Sweaty cops snooping around where I live. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. I know my girlfriend called. She told me he had his nose in my affairs. He asked questions. She had to tell him I was cozy with Bobby. All we want is something that'll give us Bobby's killer. Search me up and down. You won't find Bobby's killer. Then maybe someone who wanted him dead. All the kid ever did was steal a buck here and there, so he could make an impression on me, on my girlfriend. Boy has to die for that. He was a thief. Ain't everybody a kiddo, one way or another. to sweep out the locker room in a public pool, to empty the foot bath, scrub them out. You think that's the end of the rainbow for a kid? Did you know about the clothes he stole from the pool, the watch, the ring, money clip? Sure, I know he told me. I even know about the 500 bucks that was in the suit. 500? We were gonna take it and go off to far away places. Did you know something, kiddo? What? Bobby's dead from hanging, and I'm cooped up in a cage. So I ain't gonna make it, am I? ["The Star-Spangled Banner"] Danny? Oh, come on in, Muggerman. What do you want? An opinion. About what? About how soon we should pick up Russ Gavy for the murder of Crawford and that pool attendant. If we pick him up, how long do you think we can hold him? A killer, Danny, he's- How are you going to prove premeditated murder by artificial respiration? Now, maybe we shouldn't start from there, Danny. Maybe we should start from the attendant. Now, he killed Bobby Kent because Bobby stole the clothes, because Bobby would learn that the clothes belonged to Howard Crawford. Bobby was a sneak thief. And they had to blackmail him one easy lesson. So we get back to Howard Crawford. You know what we need, Muggerman. Yeah, motive, we gotta find our wife. Danny? You got something, Gino? Officer, actually just called from a gas station on Queens Highway. Mrs. Crawford just registered at the Ritz Lodge Motel about 10 miles out of the city. Thanks, Gino. Muggerman. Yeah, Danny. That shadow you got on Russ Gavy, get him off. I don't want him followed. All right. Where you going? To find out why our widow wanders far from home. ["Mozart Maarst This is the Man Who stabs a woman on her back. It's open. Pour yourself a drink, I'll be right in. I had my hair done, wait till you see. I bought some new clothes. You'll like them. You'll like them too, lover. You'll like them. That's your going away dress, Mrs. Crawford? It could be for that too. You've got a home in Manhattan, Mrs. Crawford. What are you doing here? Where's your home, boyfriend, and what are you doing here? I wanted to talk to you. Me and my son, Bryn, made an impression, huh? See, I got a flunky to follow me. You could have done it yourself. No uproar would have happened. Well, here we are. You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here? A girl likes to get away sometimes. You'd be surprised how many phone calls I've gotten since Howard drank all that water. Here's a dime. Throw it in the radio. No? Then I'll throw it a dime. Yep, phone calls all day long. Now, it's your turn. Just to talk. Kills some time. Ah, that Kenton. Oh, what did you say, lover? Nothing. I didn't say anything. Look, be a doll. Will you go away? Come back another day. I'll be here. Let's pick a Tuesday. Make a deputy, huh? Why don't you go right now? Out the back way, through a window? Just get out... Hi, Russ. Got a little trouble. Come in, Russ. Close the door. I'll bet the lady told you to get out of here, Mr. Clover. Uh-huh. You two know each other pretty well, don't you? Yeah, a swimming pool romance. I saw him in those California feet flippers and it twisted my heart. You two planning on going away together? I only asked because the back of Russ' car is loaded with suitcases. We're going to get married in Maryland. Is there a law? Yes, there is. There's a whole section in the penal code about murder. Oh, back to that, huh? I could have picked you up before, Russ, but I needed a motive. I had to find out why you murdered Howard Crawford. There she is. How did I kill him? By drowning him. You made sure the resuscitator squad wouldn't revive him. You crushed out whatever life there was in him. Listen to him, Edith. Yeah, listen. You killed Bobby Kent. He was a petty thief. He took the clothes you'd stolen from Crawford. Sooner or later, he'd put two and two together. Probably would have blackmailed you. You couldn't afford to let that happen. You ready, Edith? I'm ready. Only one thing, Russ. What? I'm a happy girl, Russ. I like to live happy. From just now on, you're going to be a burden. As long as Lover here's got you, I don't want you. Both of you. You're an accessory, Mrs. Crawford. Well, that changes things right away. Russ. Yeah? Don't be a fool. Okay, your way, Russ. You'll never be the same. You ready to go back to town, Mrs. Crawford? It's the time on Broadway when the crowd gives up, goes home. Then it's the street of the dim moonlight and the dark whispers. The wind of the night. The wind that scatters everything. Yesterday's headlines. Yesterday's dreams. Yesterday's people. It's Broadway. The gaudiest. The most violent. The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My beat. The makers of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum hope you've enjoyed tonight's story and that you're enjoying Wrigley's Spearmint Gum every day. We invite you to join us next week at the same time when Detective Danny Clover returns again with Broadway's My Beat. Broadway's My Beat, brought to you by Wrigley's Spearmint Gum, is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. The program is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia and Jack Prouch in as Mugabin. In tonight's cast, Mary Jane Croft was heard as Edith Crawford, Hi Aberback as Russ Gavy, Stan Waxman as Mr. Hanson, and Michael Ann Barrett as Lucille Lang. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is the CBS Radio Network.
