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. When October dies and the river wind takes over, Broadway is arranged in clots of crowd and coldness. There's a new quality on Broadway, shrill, having to do with top coats and early darkness and frosty sounds. Twilight is brief, a darting ebb of light and the sudden autumn chill and hurry, hurry, hurry to this place or that, home, or to a hot dog stand or to the neon that winks a promise. Hurry, kid, make a phone call, find somebody, it's night already. And it seems the night comes sooner in the Tenement District, or somehow it never quite leaves in the barrio in Spanish Harlem. That's why the people gather together sooner and start their music earlier in a small nightclub like La Cantina, where I was, and Detective Gomez was, and the man who led us across the floor. Through here, senores. Down these steps. He's in the cellar. You were the one who found him? Si. I went down here to my store, been to the plant, is to be for my customers. He, well, you will see. Is there any other entrance to this cellar than those steps we just came down? Yes. You will see, senor. Look, don't make a drama out of it, Luis. Just tell us. Take it easy, Gomez. There, on the big cases, stretched out, wet, dead. Now, tell us, Luis, how did he get in here? Buffing, senor. You see a window through which deliveries are made from the alley. Mirror, the window is broken through, so. Take a look in the alley, Gomez. Okay. You know who he is, Luis? Si. He's Ricardo Miguel, the boy who lives near, the boy who works at the pastel area, Senor Locca. The bakery shop, also not far. Stamped. Four places, the doctors. It's the floor show, senor. Be gone. Yeah. The sad you cannot take the time to see, senor. It is exciting. The sad you have not the time. And beating against the cellar tomb containing a boy's death, the rhythm clack of a woman's high heels dancing in measured frenzy to a nimble passion plucked from the guitar to the percussion of men's applause to the oles, hoarsely whispered deep in the throat. The light bulb sways to it, the shadows dance, and the huddled boy shrieks his stillness. And into it after a while, Gomez, with information. There were blood stains in the alley outside. The boy had been knifed there, had fallen or was pushed through the cellar window. Leave Gomez to the official gathering of the dead. Walk a barrio street to the bakery of Senor Lorca. Try it. Find it closed. Then walk some more. Scavenge the barrio night for scraps about the murdered boy, about Ricardo Miguel. And from an alley wall moist with autumn's night mist, a form detaches itself, whispers into your ear that Ricardo loved a girl much. Reyna Martinez lives alone in a room on 110th. Alone. Try her, senor. Go there to a numbered room in a tenement hall. Try. Good to me. The night is good to me. I'm from the police. You bring yourself to the wrong door, senor police. Go skin your knuckles in another place. You're Reyna Martinez? The barrio woman spit my name at you because her man looked at me? Boy was stabbed, Ricardo Miguel, murdered. Because he loved Reyna? Let's talk about it inside, Miss Martinez. In a little while a boy comes for me to buy me wine, to take me dancing. I have not combed my hair. I have not painted my mouth. Another time we will talk inside. Now, Miss Martinez. Tell me about Ricardo. I told what there is. He loved me. He was knifed in an alley. We found him in a cellar. Maybe you can tell me why something like that had happened to him. You will not mind if I make myself ready for the boy who comes for me, huh? I fix my hair for the flower he always brings for me. Ricardo Miguel, let's get back to him. Poor boy. Poor dead boy. You like my hair so? It won't matter at headquarters. So impatient, senor police. All right, I tell you. Reyna will tell you of Ricardo. Tell me. He worked with me at Lorca's Pasteleria. He baked little cakes, little pastries. In between, he spoke love, talking my ear. Sometimes I listened. Often? When he bought for me little things, I listened. You know, jewelry, silk blouse. This that I wear now, he gave to me. I made a promise when he brought it to me. No, I cannot keep it. Poorcito. Poor boy. That's all there is about Ricardo. He worked with you, loved you. And now he's dead. Sometimes he's the pattern in the body of senor police. Why should Ricardo be... Donald. Mono, little monkey. Where is he, Reyna? Of the police, Mono. I have finished with him. You like Reyna how she looks for you? What does he want here? A boy was murdered with a knife. A boy who loved me. Ricardo, the pastries. What do you want with her, mister? What's Reyna got to do with it? She just told you. When was he killed? Maybe three hours ago, more or less. Who are you? Donald Jordan. College boy with an alibi for Reyna. Three hours ago and a sack full of hours before that, Reyna was with me. It took that long to show her the ducks in Central Park Lake. That's where you were, Miss Martinez? Donald told you. My Mono told you. In other words, you're each other's alibi. Mm-hmm. Each other's. Come to Reyna, Donald. Come on, little monkey. Come. Come here. Come on. Then watch him move toward her, stop, and the girl considering him, and the gesture, her hands leaking her black hair before she went into his arms, and see a thing, her eyes open, looking over his shoulder and out into the night, and turning to the boy, smiling to him, kissing him, her hands smoothing her hair again, and her eyes watching me as I left. The next morning, back to the barrio, back to the front footage devoted to tenements and window watchers, and the people of the doorsteps and the chalk talk, back to the place that had been closed the night before, the pastry shop of Señor Lorca. Buenas dias, señor. Good morning. I am sorry, señor. Sorry about what? This morning, my stock, it is scarce. However... Because Ricardo didn't show up for... My big Ricardo is muerto, dead, so for the next few days... I know. I'm from the police. Si. You know that Ricardo was murdered, don't you? Seguramente, of course. Of his dying, I know all about. Oh? Si. It has been told all around the barrio. I see. I need some information. I want you to help me. Seguramente. Why not? I want you to tell me all you can about Ricardo and about Reyna. Of Ricardo. A boy who bakes pasteles, who live alone and bake between the hours of nine and five. Excellently. Who I will miss. How come Reyna isn't here this morning? I will ask her the identical question when she will come in. Was she here yesterday? For a time. Then a young man took her to look at ducks. Such a girl as she to look at ducks. Loco, if you would see her, you would ask... I've seen her. Then you understand. Is there another such one as she, senor? I ask you this because in your profession you must go about the city and see women, sometimes of exquisiteness. Yet I do not believe you have seen such a one as Reyna. The face of her deforms. You are married, Loco? In truth, senor, and because you are of the police who enjoy to listen to truth. I wait for Reyna to grow up to enjoy me. Then I will be married. Right, a few men seem to be in love with her, Loco. Ricardo, for instance. Si. For instance, Ricardo. Why should anyone want to kill him, Loco? Can you tell me? I shrug. Shrug to denote I do not know. I do not know. Why, indeed. Another question, senor police? No, no, that's all for now. Gracias, senor. Gracias. Adios, mi amigo. Hey, old fellow, and well met. Top of the morning, Danny. We said good morning to each other a couple of hours ago, Gino. Off the dime, what have you got? What I've got is what you're going to get. To wit, a report on the college youth, Donald Jordan, even as you requested. Okay, okay. Detective Gomez told me that this Jordan youth is a student at McKay College. That the dean of men whom he questioned told the good detective that this Jordan youth is indeed bright. A gold star student. And found out that this Jordan youth was indeed free to watch Ducks yesterday afternoon. Because he had only morning classes. What have you got on Raina Martinez? Raina Martinez, to wit. According to our files, it seems this Raina Martinez has been a caller at our pokey on various occasions. Once on the occasion of clawing the eyes of a fellow female. Once for waving a knife under the nose of a brush salesman. And another time for carving her initials with a like knife into the epidermis of a friendly bar fly. Knife, huh? From what you told me of her, Danny, from this Raina Martinez, nobody would mind. What's a knife prick from a girl like that? You gave me a thought, Dino. I'll go ask her. What does this girl look like, Danny? You'll see. Come on. This house. One side, friend. Take it easy, buster. What's the hurry? I said one side. He's a big one, Danny. Okay, friend, you ask... Yeah. Come on. Come on, settle down. It's a lot better, young fella. I ask you something. What's the hurry? You guys crazy. Take your hands... Why were you running? In a hurry I run. Police. Huh? Police officers. Look, I didn't have anything to do with it. To do with what? Look. Bring him along, Gomez. I'll go get him. Did you come out of this room? All right, we'll see. Inside. You heard him in. Danny. Yeah, I see. I didn't do it. I swear. I swear I didn't do it. I didn't kill him. I didn't kill Ray. I didn't kill Ray. You were listening to Broadway is My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Say, that was some night the gang gave Jack Benny last week when the Spendthrift Squire surprised them all by inviting him out to a nightclub on him. And to surprise finish, the gang will be waiting for Jack for sure tomorrow night. Yes, Jack Benny, Mary Livingston, Dennis, Phil, Rochester, Don, and tomorrow night, Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Coleman. Listen for them all on CBS Radio. There's fun every minute. The winds of October begin their departure from Broadway, and departing, leaving their wake, the gutters choked with regret, the corridors echoing lament, and Broadway picks through the leaving, searches for lost treasures, for images misplaced, left behind in that movie palace, forgotten in the sudden realization that this was your subway stop. There was the girl with the soft fur held close to her throat, covering her face right up to her eyes. The way she looked at you, Fred was one you'll remember kid right through the fall season. There was that late time on Broadway when the bar was closing, and the guys with convention buttons on their lapels bought you a drink, said, Whenever you're out my way, look me up. That was October, the image and the farewell. So why look for anything else kid? That's all there is. Except a girl dead in a room you've been in before, except a sobbing protest, except the scream of a radio. Shut that thing off, Gomez. Nothing I can do about that Danny, it's down the street somewhere. Look, I told you I had nothing to do with it. Yeah, you told us. What's your name kid? Garfield, Bobby Garfield. Rain and me we were just... What do you do Bobby? I play football. Let me tell you, Rain and me we were just... You're a football player, huh Bobby? I like football. I play for McKay College, I'm a sophomore. McKay College, huh? You know a boy named Donald Jordan, Bobby? Yeah, I know him. Same fraternity. Look, what is it with you guys? You gonna let me tell you how it was? Sure Bobby, go ahead. Tell us how it was. Rain and me, just kind of good friends, you know what I mean? Uh-uh, tell us. What are you guys twisting it into me for? I didn't kill her, you act like... What did you do with the gun Bobby, throw it away? Let me tell you, huh? Rain and me, I met her right after I came to New York to play football. She saw me play once, came up to me after the game. Said I played so good, why not celebrate? You're telling us how you didn't kill her, that's why you tried to run away, huh? Because you didn't... We were dancing, see? Kind of dancing to that music you turned off, if you can still hear it. We were dancing to that. All of a sudden there was a shot. I guess from where that window is open to the alley. All of a sudden, Rain had just dropped down on my arms and there was blood on my shirt from where she... See it? Look, I gotta call somebody. I gotta call somebody on the telephone, sir. Sure you do. We got a phone at headquarters. You can make your call from there. Put the cuffs away, Gomez, we won't need them. You've got a gentleman callin', Danny. Huh? Who? A gentleman who comes and answers to Bobby Garcia's phone call. Oh, show him in, Gino. This way to see Danny Clover. Oh, that'll be all, Gino. How do you do, sir? Very well, thank you. Sit down. Oh, here. My name's Clover. Douglas, sir, John Douglas. Bobby Garfield called you. Bobby's in a lot of trouble. Trouble, Mr. Clover, is a thing youth is prone to generate for itself. You and I understand that. The trouble is murder. Oh, sure. May I ask, Mr. Douglas, why Bobby called you? Of course you may. Didn't you know? I'm a football coach. No, I didn't know. Bobby comes under my tutelage as an end, an excellent one. McKay College's pride, offensive end, of course. Of course. What else about Bobby? What else about him? I found him in New Mexico. Prevailed upon the McKay Regents to make his way to New York easy. They certainly agreed with me. He's very fast, this Bobby. At a speed racing the super chief across the New Mexico deserts, I tell sports reporters, for color. He was found running out of a room where a girl was shot to death. This, sir, is confounding. I told my squad. I keep telling them. No dates until after the season. So surely there must be a mistake. Bobby listens to me. There's no mistake, Mr. Douglas. Who is the girl? One of those flirts from Greenbury School across the river, I'll tell you. Reyna Martinez, a barrio girl. Of course, if there's anything... Well, what am I expected to do? Answer another question. Do you know a McKay student named Donald Jordan? No, he's not football. I wouldn't know him. I still don't know what I'm expected to do about this... This altercation that Bobby has gotten himself into. Just talk to him, Mr. Douglas. He's under suspicion of murder. He asked for you. Of course. You'll pardon me, sir. Thank you. And watch the leader of men go talk to one of his boys, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to pep talk a boy out of a grief the coach had never played against before. And imagine it. The pat on the shoulder, the voice modulated to the acoustics of a cell. Then the curiosity taking over finally, gentle, insinuating. Tell me about it, son. Tell me about the girl. Tell me what there was about her that made you... Then wipe the smirk off your mouth, because you've asked these questions too. Well, go on asking them. And because you're a policeman, ask them with the official stamp of approval. Of anyone, of an employer, of the girl now dead, of Señor Lorca, for instance. I told you, señor. I told you of the exquisiteness of Reyna. That she is dead does not change my philosophy about her. Where there is such as Reyna, there is such as death. You kill her, Lorca? Listen to me, señor. Listen very closely. How could I lift my hand to Reyna except to... How? This way, with a gun in it. Then shoot her through a window while she was dancing with Bobby Garfio. That's how. Explain to me. Explain to me something. Why should I do this when I don't even know this Garfio? Bobby Garfio. He knew Reyna loved her like Ricardo Miguel did. Someone found an alley where Ricardo was, stabbed him to death. Then saw Reyna in the arms of Bobby Garfio. Shot Reyna, killed her. Watched Garfio being taken to prison. It all worked out real good for a man like you. A man who says he loved Reyna. A man who Reyna didn't love. I tell you something, señor. All this that you said, I could wish it. Wish it deep inside here. But I could not do it. I'm only a seller of pastries. I have not the... what it needs. Then you didn't know about Garfio. About dead Ricardo, my pastry boy, I knew. About the college boy who took Reyna for me to show her dogs quack quack. Only these rivals I knew till now. I regret you told me about this Garfio. One more thing. Uh, that all me. I speak to the phone. Go ahead. Lorca's Pasteleria. Huh? Ah, detective. See, there is a detective here. This is what you want of Lorca. Momento. For you, señor. Thanks. Danny Clover speaking. Danny, I disturb you only because Dean Crawford of McKay College phoned in, wants you to come to his office right away. Will you tell you why? He said he's got a shocker for you. But an immediate shocker. Those were his very... Thanks, Gino. Maybe I'll have to get back to you, Lorca. So don't go away. Did I say something funny, Dean Crawford? No, not you, Mr. Clover. I said something funny. I made the remark to myself. Paul? This week, Mr. Clover, just this week, I sent in my resignation to the Board of Regents. A thing unheard of. No dean ever quits at McKay. We get fired. I quit, effective the new year. And that's funny? Scandalous. To use a McKay term that's hardly ever used. And then, think about it, Mr. Clover, one of the students is involved in a murder. All in the same week. This is a black week for McKay. I wonder about something. About what? Statistics. How many McKay boys have gone out into the world and committed murder. As still Dean of McKay, I'll match my boys against anybody. Look, Dean Crawford, you called me, said it was urgent. Suppose you tell me something urgent. I got a letter a while ago from a daddy. A daddy who is sending his son through McKay. He's a worried man. What are you talking about? The daddy of Donald Jordan. Worried about the bills his son has run up. No wonder. Magery, jewelry, baubles. For a sex we only mention in psychology too. Female. The letter came after your detective Gomez had left. How close was Donald Jordan to Bobby Garfield? I'll tell you how close. We have an arrangement here. Assign a football player to a scholar. Arrangement, Garfield was coached in his studies by Donald Jordan. This is known as intellectual freedom. Donald writes Bobby's themes, does his assignments, which leaves Bobby free to think about nothing. Admirable. What else can you tell me about them? Which one of those rascals do you think killed that girl? I asked you a question. I've told you everything I can, Mr. Clover. Well, McKay semper fidelio, as we always say. Don't you always say? No? I don't blame you. Bye, Mr. Clover. Bobby, come on Bobby, on your feet. What? What do you want? Let's go, Bobby, we're going for a visit. A visit? Yeah, we're going back to school. There's rooms on this floor, Mr. Clover, right across the hall from mine. He never goes to the bonfire rallies. He's probably in. The most studious room in the fraternity house. Who is it? You, Bobby. It's me, Bobby Garfield. Bobby, I thought... Oh, let's go inside, Donald. You sure? Gee, I'm glad to see you're out, Bobby. Yeah, I knew you would be. That's why I came right to you, so you could be glad. That's right, Donald. Bobby told me a lot about you on the way over here. I don't understand what you're doing here. We'll get around to it. I got bad news for you, kid. Bad news? You remember something? The day we were inducted into this fraternity? What are you talking about? The day we put four fingers up in the air and gave the secret hand clasp and said the words. The second finger meant loyalty. You haven't been true blue. What did they do to you in jail, Bobby? You talk crazy. Yeah, crazy. Frat... Oi! Crazy! Cut it out. Yeah, I'll cut it out. Pardon, I didn't have a paddle, fraternity brother. Is this how you police act? Bring a crazy man into my room and have him beat me up? I'm sorry, Donald. I told him a few things on the way here. I didn't know it would upset him this way. Look, I don't know what this is all about. Why don't we all go down to the bonfire? Sure, sure, let's do that. It'll make a big impression, Bobby. You being out of jail, gonna play tomorrow. Come on, guys. We're going all right, but not to a football rally. You're under arrest, Donald. What? Two crazy men. The policeman and me. What do you mean I'm under arrest? For what? For what reason? Murder. Ricardo Miguel. Reina Martinez. You're kidding. Especially Reina Martinez. Now, there was a dame. Take my word for it, fraternity brother, there really was a dame. You talked about me, didn't you? You and Reina. We had a few chuckles. Whenever your name came up. You ready to go, Donald? What did you say about me? You know what we said. What you say to yourself. Leave him alone, Bobby. I didn't kill anybody, Mr. Clover. You killed one of Reina's boyfriends, Ricardo Miguel, to prove something to her. That she couldn't have anyone but you. That you wouldn't let her have anyone but you. You don't know what you're talking about. Believe me, he knows. Four fingers in the air. Ricardo Miguel was killed. You had an alibi for that. You were with Reina. That's right. She told you I was with her. She lied for you. She alibied for you. Because for an instant, she admired you. She did. She did. What are you laughing at? Nothing. Nothing at all. What are you laughing at? I laugh because I remember something. A couple of Saturdays ago, right after a football game. When Reina waited. Until I came out of the stadium. Came up and told me who she was. We celebrated the occasion. You took her to that game, didn't you, Donald? I'm only sorry I didn't kill you two. You almost did at that. Who were you aiming at, Donald? Reina or me? While you were peeking at us from the alley. While you were... Who were you aiming at? Reina. I wanted to kill her and I did. What she did to me. The things she made me do for her. The things I got for her. And she laughed. She laughed. She laughed. She laughed. The neon spins and Broadway blares out an eight beat rhythm. The tempo of hunger in dance time. Grab yourself a dream and get with it. Close your eyes and pretend you're holding something special. Keep them closed. Dreams last longer that way. It's Broadway. The gaudiest. The most violent. The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover. With Charles Calvert as Tartaglia and Jack Crouchin as Muggavan. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. With musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story Dick Crenna was heard as Bobby Garfeo. And Sam Edwards as Donald Jordan. Featured in the cast were Harry Bartel, Marvin Miller, Lillian Bief, Herb Butterfield and Edgar Barrier. Looking for a lively date for tomorrow night? She's on the younger side but her appeal is to all. Interested? Then meet Corliss Archer. CBS Radio's atomic teenager with her fun making gang on most of these same stations tomorrow night. Bill Anders speaking. And remember the Frankie Lane Show is your date with slick syncopation every Sunday afternoon on the CBS Radio Network. Music.
