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. In the cold of winter, Broadway is seen through a misty chill. And it's that time again. Make the big wish, Palm Beach and the 15-day tour to sunny Cuba. Make the annual excursion to the travel bureau to ask prices. Then step next door again and purchase the steaming canish against the blasts of January. And the next door down, stand under the music shop loudspeaker, listen to the record of La Cucaracha. Button up your overcoat. Walk Broadway. It's touched you. And it can never rub off. Just off Broadway, 11 o'clock in the morning time on West 39th, apartment house, and this languid attitude of hand against the floor, trail of blood upward to girl on bed, shot and dying. And this, the doctor bending over her. And in the living room, this, the protesting man. Who are you calling a killer, mister? I'm no killer. I'm a mover. Mr. Barnes said... You want an item of furniture moved, a stick or a house load, you call me and I come with my truck and I move you. You want a killer, girl, you should call somebody else, not me, mister. Listen, why should I... Nobody called you a killer, Mr. Barnes. I'd just like to know how you happened to find this girl, that's all. Yesterday comes a call. I got a big ad in the yellow section of the phone book, picture of my truck and all. Well, yesterday comes a call. Oh. Take your time. I've stumbled on some strange things in my line of work, mister. Like the time I was moving some wine... Well, just tell me about this morning. You got a call... Yesterday. All here on the order sheet. Pick up apartment full of furniture, this address, take it to this address. Here, right here on the paper. It's written down, so how could it not be so? It's written down, so how can it not be so? I'll just take that paper. Thanks. Go on. So, look under where it says special instructions and it will prove to you that the dame who called Helen Selby, she said her name was, she said in case nobody's home, walk in and start moving. That's the way it happened. You knocked, nobody answered, you walked in. Sure. Walked around, cased the joint. The trunks were already packed, they're right over there. Walked into the bedroom, looked, looked again, called the police. Look on the paper, will you? It's written down. I can't be lying to you. And time then for waiting, measured like this, brief span of morning sun to lie against the face of a wounded girl, gold drift of January light on throat of dying girl, till ambulance came and the young men of the stretcher to lift her, carry her to another place, another room, suitably darkened. And time now for you to leave. Walked then through late January city, uptown and east, where river reflects late morning and shadows of men staring into it, and late morning wishes cast into its waters. And uptown into the 70s, to a delivery address on a moving man's order sheet, 1212 East 78th, brownstone house, January trees and concrete wells against its facade, lace curtains, stoop freshly scrubbed. Yes, what is it? I'm from the police, Danny Clover. So? I'd like to talk to you. May I come in? Well, I don't know. You see, this is... Can't you tell me about it inside? Yes, yes, I think I can. I think it'll be all right. Please come in. The living room there. But please be careful of things and... And what? What I've been trying to tell you, this isn't really my house. And it's a very nice house. I just live here with a friend. It's his house. Whose? Leo's. Leo Pearson. Oh, I'm sure your friend won't mind, Mr.... Alex. Alex Ewing. And I'm not sure that Leo won't mind. He's very careful about his nice things and so am I. And we get along real fine together. You see, Leo was a very lonely man. Oh? Oh, yes. You see, his wife and child were killed in an automobile accident. My, it's almost a year ago. A year. And Leo was very lonely and he asked me to come live with him. Well, I did and it's worked out just fine. Police? Why have you come here? A girl, a young woman, was having her things moved into this house this morning. A young woman? Helen Selby. The moving man found her in her bedroom. She'd been shot. She's dying. Oh. Oh. Yes, Mr. Ewing? Nothing, just that it's such a terrible thing to be wounded, to die. A young girl, such a terrible thing. Yes. Helen Selby, you know her? No, no. I've never heard of the young woman until now. Your friend, Mr. Ewing? Oh, I'm sorry. I wandered for an instant. Perhaps Leo knows her, but he hasn't said anything to me about it. She was going to move in here? Yes. Where is Leo? I don't know. He went out early this morning. He didn't say where. He said to take care of things. Alex and I scrubbed the stoop and did other little things around and I made lunch. And Kate, shall I tell him you want to talk to him when he comes home? Yes. I'll do that. I'll tell him first thing. Well, let me show you to the door, Mr. Clover. Danny? Come on in, Muggerman. I've got a few things here. Items on the girl. Yeah, here. Her name's Helen Selby, all right? Went through her packed stuff, found this driver's license from California, thumbprint on it, checks for the girl's, okay? What else? 23 years old. Let's see. Yeah. Yeah, what? Oh, take it easy for a minute, William. I'm trying to figure out my own notes. She's employed as a secretary at the Sunup to Sundown Trucking Company. Sunup to Sundown. Great, huh? Where is it located? Downtown, Danny. Perry Street. I got the address here. Do me a favor, Muggerman. Sure. Give me the address. Thanks. Thanks a lot. And the Sunup to Sundown Trucking Company is easily found. It stands out from the rest of Perry Street because the grime of its brick facades is emblazoned with yellow painted suns. Sun ascending, sun descending. The entire miracle powered by great stake trucks. The demigod at the reins of the cab wearing the billboard grin and a winged helmet. And inside, the golden girl, marked receptionist. Sunflower behind beat up desk who slides out from behind it. The better for you to receive the impact of her slim stalks. Also happens to handle office personnel. Can tell you all about Helen Selby. Hired in December for the winter rush. Clerk typist. 5750 per. Here a week and a half when glommed onto a driver. Chris Miller. Other personnel. It has taken as long as five weeks to glom onto Chris Boy. And if you're fast on your stems, boy chick, you might catch Chris by the loading platform truck number 367. Right through there. And if it's no burden, mention to Chris, reception was inquiring after his health. And slim finger on a buzzer and the door is released. A corridor, then loading platform and truck 367. And the man standing beside it. You Chris Miller? Some other time. I felt like I got a schedule leading on me. Police Chris, look. You'll explain up front after how you filed the schedule up front? I was told you know Helen Selby. You got all sizes blabbermouths here, don't you? You know her? You want to know her too? I'll give you a knockdown. State your qualifications. Your girlfriend's been shot. She's dying. Someone opens her mouth and spills out my name in Helen's and right away you figure I did that to her. To Helen with gun and pistol. Did you? I don't know her long enough to get that excited about her. That kind of emotion in me she hasn't had a chance to stir up yet. You'll tell me about it Chris, about the emotions between you and Helen, I mean. Helen dying? Yeah. Where? In the emergency hospital. I'll get a chance from the schedule. I'll check her there. Right now I got no way to make it work out. Here or downtown, Chris? From New Year's she came out here for something, a platform. I happened to let a remark drop. There was a whole New Year ahead of her with nothing in it but hers so far. I happened to remark how come tan on her face, on her arms. She said from California. I heard from California could be a blast so. And that was New Year's. After that a few bars and a few movies, a couple dances, records in her apartment. That's all. Helen and me, me and Helen are a match. Look. Yeah I know, schedule. Danny. Don't apologize for being late, Danny. I got here as soon as I got your message, Dr. Sinski. Too late, huh? Helen Selby died 15 minutes ago. It wouldn't have mattered what time you got here, she never regained consciousness. Well. That's as good comment as any. Me a doctor with 30 years in the hospitals like this, I never thought of a better comment. Well. It sums it up. Danny, a man came into a room a few minutes ago, he said his name was Leo Pearson, said he was a relative, I let him stay. Leo Pearson? That's right. I've been in his house, I've been looking for him. Thanks doctor. Mr. Pearson? Mr. Pearson? She's dead. I want to. As soon as I found her, I lost her. My niece. Dear Helen, I'm sorry my dear. So sorry. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Simply a leader in its field, Your Sunday Night Playhouse has for years made a specialty of historical dramas and literary adaptations. Every week Lionel Barrymore is your narrator and host. Tomorrow night again on most of these same stations, enjoy Your Sunday Night Playhouse presented by CBS Radio. When sunlight strays through January wind and Broadway robs minutes from the time clock to stop running, to stand still for the splatter of warmth, crowd clusters in sun pools, and for the late comers room only on the fringes of warmth, the chill place, the shadow place where a vendor stood last night and hawked his night merchandise and sold out before you got there, late for that too. So move on, smile the secret smile, nibble on the bone, at office, on worksheet, there will be a demerit for the sunbathers and for you a pat on the cold cheek for promptness. In my office at headquarters a man who last night had stood at the side of a dead girl, a murdered girl who had not wept, who had sung some tuneless thing, a man of regret. She had loveliness and gentleness also, Helen Selby. She offered this to my house and to me and there could have been happiness in it, I so arranged it. You mean about her moving in with you? Mr. Clover, you were in my house. That's right. Then you saw how I lived. It's a nice house, your friend. My friend Alex, he told me of you, you know of Alex? That he's your friend that he lives with you. That he said he knew nothing about Helen Selby. Alex to me was once a partner in coin collector business many years ago. Alex was a man without poise, without serenity and then because he was so, he sold to me his share of the business and squandered the money, became a man of pity. I arranged for him a place and a home for the old and the helpless, home for the men of pity. Then you took him out of there and brought him to your house. You know of my wife, my son, you know of this? Well, Alex told me they were... Killed, struck down in an accident, taken from me and I was alone. And one day I thought, Alex, of course, Alex and I brought him to my house. About Helen Selby, tell me about her. Of Helen? How you met her, how you got to know a young woman well enough to ask her to come live in your house. Helen is kin of my wife's blood and I am an old gentleman. What was she to your wife? She's to my wife, child of my wife's sister who was in California many years. Then you knew her before she came to New York. No, no, I did not know of Helen. Her mother, my wife's sister is dead now many years. The child, we had known nothing until Helen came to me to my house. When? Maybe a month. Helen came, said to me she is of my wife's sister, showed me old letters such as Between Sisters, showed me an album of pictures when she was baby. And the thing came quickly in my thoughts. What thing, Mr. Pearson? Mr. Pearson? And the laughter of youth and the touch of youth. Helen said to me once, how lonely you must be, old gentleman. How quick in the eyes of youth. And you asked her to come live with you. Yes, I asked her and I said to her, with your husband too, stay with me Helen, it's a big house for you. Husband? She'd tell me a boy she loved, a boy who wished to marry her. I have a big house, many empty rooms and nice things for a girl. Now it's again death and only death and rooms of empty. He's not a gentleman to cry before. He's not. And after that, after the grief washed over him and broke and carried him with it to some shore of the mind, to the faraway and desolate place of lost images. After that, the small things fold the handkerchief neatly and replace it in the breast pocket, straighten the tie, flick the lint. Neat man going out of doors where people could see him. And after he leaves, sit with it for a while and think, Helen Selby, dead girl, was going to be married, her uncle said, which didn't jibe with previous information. So call the Sunup to Sundown Trucking Company and the solar voice on the other end tells you that Chris Miller is off today and gives you his home address warmly. So get Detective Moggavin, squad car ride address and Chris Miller entertains from his bed. This is going to be a real fine day, I can tell that. Not enough we got a cold radiator, I got to have you. Get out of the bed, Chris, we want to talk to you. Show me where it says I can't roll over on my side and tuck the chin on the elbow and converse. So now you're going to get different answers from me in a bathrobe? You know about Helen? Hey, how's Helen? Dead. Helen. Helen. Look, Sonny, I got a confession to make. It's about the beds and the bulky. There's been some complaint about- Leave him alone, Moggavin. He crying? Just leave him alone. All right, I'm okay, just give me a second to get in my robe here. Okay. Did you shoot Helen, Chris? No. We found out Helen was going to get married to you. Yeah, to me. You know a man named Leo Pearson? He killed Helen? You know him? No. Helen was going to live with him? Yeah, I know about that. And then you were going to move in? Yeah, later after we got married. What were you waiting for, Sonny? I wanted to get married right away, set up housekeeping here. Not for Helen, not good enough. She used to like fancy. She was a good kid, but liked fancy, you know? Sure. You know? Not quite. You tell us. Well, move in with Uncle and get to, I don't know how she put it, get the feel of the place. And then we'd get married and I'd move in too. Makes sense, doesn't it? I used to tell Helen it made sense. I don't know. Bell-a-phone's ringing, Danny. May I, Danny? Oh, of course you may, Gino. Thank you kindly. Lieutenant Clover's office, Sergeant Hartagli at this end. Yes? Oh, I see. I will do that, and your address, madam? Kill me, madam. I happen never to have heard of your place, so the address if you please. Uh-huh. Thank you. I will forward your message to the proper party, no trouble at all. And you also, madam. Thank you. Danny. What, Gino? Bessie Hancock. Huh? Miss Bessie Hancock of the Hancock Home for the Aged, 190th and Riverside Drive. She has read in the papers of Mr. Leo Pearson of our current murder case, and she has certain information which may or may not be important, she said. Order the squad car, Gino. Of course, Danny, goes without saying. Right uptown now, along the road that bans Manhattan from the river, Riverside Drive and Chill Afternoon, 190th Street, look across the brown water to the palisades and make a turn at the sign of the clenched fist and pointing finger, Hancock Home for the Aged, gentle and loving care. Park the car and walk through the swinging gate, up the path lined by last year's grass and last rainfall's footprints. The porch, with an old gentleman on one side of the steps, an old lady on the other, rocking, faster, stationary race between them. The lady who answers the door has a lornette pinned to one side of her blouse and a watch pinned to the other. Yes? I'm from the police. My name's Clover. Yes, won't you? Oh, just a moment, please. Still angry, Mrs. Cochran? Oh, don't be. That's Mr. Settling's way, that's all. He wants to talk to you, don't you, Mr. Settling? Be nice, Mr. Settling. Please come in, Mr. Clover. This way. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, you're fine. Thanks. Oh, you may sit down. Was something wrong? Oh, Mrs. Cochran and Mr. Settling. I want everybody to be happy and they're not happy. Not with each other. Mr. Settling plays pranks with frogs and now he's taken to answering ads in magazines and signing Mrs. Cochran's name. Such ads. It's about the phone call you made a while ago to the police. I know. You know, I wonder if I was right. About what? About having that music piped into here. I started it last week and since then my boarders don't use the game room so much. The checker boards and the dominoes, they just sit and rock and listen and don't seem to be happy at all. I want everybody to be happy. Was Alex Ewing happy? Alex Ewing? Then you know why I want to talk to you. Oh, I made an assumption. I spoke with Leo Pearson. He told me he paid the bills for Alex in a home for the aged. Then you called. Oh, Alex was miserable. He made us all miserable. The things he would do. Oh? Get up in the middle of a meal and make speeches. How this was a prison. How he wasn't really old. How he would rather be dead than stay here. If Mr. Pearson wasn't paying me so much money to keep him here, well... And after Mr. Pearson's wife and son were killed, he took Alex out of here and into his own home. Yes, thank goodness. For instance, you see that big stain on the wall? Mashed potatoes. Alex. Why exactly did you call me, Mrs. Hancock? Oh, I don't know whether it's important. Last week Mr. Pearson came in here and made arrangements for us to take Alex back. Today was supposed to be the day, as a matter of fact. Of course I charged him more money. You can understand that. If my borders get miserable again, I should be paid for it, surely. And I do want everybody to be happy. Mr. Plover, good evening, sir. Good evening. Hello, Mr. Pearson. Mind if I come in? Please do. I am pleased to see you. Thank you. Would you care for some wine? Thanks, no. Is Mr. Ewing here? Did I ask a funny question? No, no, forgive me. It is only that Alex is in the library poised over a chess problem. Therefore, he is here and he is not here. I'd like to talk to him. We will go to him this way. Alex. Don't bother me. Go away, go away. Castle to King Four, Queen to Bishop Four and mate. In another minute. Perhaps Mr. Plover is in a hurry. Look up Alex. Good evening, Mr. Plover. Hello, Alex. And now we will chat. Leo. Yes? We were having a very fine evening. What does Mr. Plover want? Ask him, Alex. I am sure both of you know. It is about the murder of Helen Selby. More questions, Mr. Plover? I have told you everything. I have told you... I am sorry, Mr. Pearson, but you have not. I do not understand. About Alex here. I have nothing to do with it. We are quiet for a minute, Alex. Let us hear what Mr. Plover has to say. Very well. Well, I have nothing to do with any of it. What have I not told you, Mr. Plover, about Alex? That you were going to send him back to that home for the agent. Not now, not anymore. Alex? Yes, sir? Tell me about that home. I do not want to talk about it. It is all right, Alex. You are not going back there. I understand you were not happy there, Alex. It was a prison. Why should I want to talk about it? I was there. It seemed very nice. Why do you say it was a prison? I am sixty-two. I am not old. Alex, friend. I am not old. Old is when you are ready to sit in a chair and rock. Old is when no one wants you. Alex. I am not going back there. Alex, I told you you are not going back there. Then let us talk about Helen Selby. A lovely girl. Whoever killed her, what reason could he have? I think I know, Mr. Pearson. I am not old. She called me an old man. You said you did not know her. Know her? I talked to her once. A schemer. I could tell that. When did you talk to her? She was here once for you. I sent her away. A schemer. Something like that, what I was going to say. I think she was going to move in here. She, later her husband. And take your house over. Already she convinced you to throw me out of here, to send me back. That is why you killed her, isn't it? I am not an old man. You killed her because it is on account of her you were going back to that place. Alex. Here is where I am happy, Leo. You killed her? Yes, yes, yes. Murderer. What are you? An old fool. Let a young girl come in here and walk around like this and talk like this. Yes, uncle. Yes, uncle. I know how she talked. I know how she walked. I watched. She was my niece. Welcome here. I wanted her here. We better go, Alex. Like this, Leo. Like this. Like this she walks. You fool. You lonely fool. This man is taking me away and you are going to be alone. Big house, Leo. Lots of rooms. Lots of echo, Leo. Take me away, Mr. Clover. There is a panic in neon on this Broadway where pleasure is a packaged commodity and pain, where bargains prevail for numbness and the fleeting smile, sometimes on installments. It's a place that dares you and one way or another it will rock you to sleep. 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 Calford as Tartaglia and Jack Crouchon as Muggervon. The program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Herb Butterfield was heard as Alex and Lou Merrill as Leo. Featured in the cast were Gloria Gordon, Hi Everback and Lamont Johnson. Islanders speaking. Every Sunday night all over America, everything stops with a laughter when it's Jack Benny time on CBS radio. Join the gang again tomorrow night, Jack, Mary, Dennis, Don, Bob, Rochester for more of that special kind of comedy that everyone recognizes by its Jack Benny trademark. America now listens to 105 million radio sets and listens most to the CBS radio network.
