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. Into February on Broadway now, near the tail end of the winter wind, the frantic wind that drifts, that whips around corners, that gathers itself into squalls out of the secret hiding places it knows, then rushes down alleys searching for what the world has left behind. And things happen, earmuffs bloom under turned down hats, discarded newspapers wing low, then scurry over pavements and wrap themselves around hurrying feet, and home suddenly becomes where the coffee is. Wind of February, beauty and nylon on a street corner. And above it, where I was, where Detective Dennison was, on top of Hotel Marquis, platform over the street, ringed by neon advertising rates and a Roomba band. Platform also serving the purpose of catching the body of a man who jumped or was pushed. Hold the light over here a minute, Danny. I want to take a look at his wallet. Thanks. Aims, Artie Blanchard, home address, upstate Utica. Money in his wallet too? Let's see. Hey, look here. Five one hundred dollar bills. About a half a dozen fifties. How much you find in this coat pocket, Danny? A couple thousand I guess, I didn't count it. Must have been that much in his pants pocket too. Hold the light a minute, will you? These bills aren't real, they're close enough to it to make me happy feeling them. No? No what? This man didn't jump. All this money, why should he? Stick around for technical Dennison, I'll see you later. And so it was this, entertainment for winter night. Look down over edge of Marquis and gathering to it, lifting face to it, the crowd people anchored in shadow pools, wavering, blurring, floating faces on wind drift. But the constant thing, fierce and dark, of neon reflected pinpoint and ring of staring eyes. And from swell of crowd a shouter detaches himself, runs wildly the street, shouts violence, summons more spectators. And the whisperer too, elbows crowd, walks to a doorway to edge of woman, makes his whisperer, shrugs, comes back to spectacle alone. The entertainment and leave it. Back into hotel now and to hotel manager who offers his services freely, the use of himself, his master key, his shock. I can't get used to it, happens on and off in this hotel. Last time six years ago a young girl, I took a whole month off, I just can't get used to it. You're Mr. Carter? Yes, yes. He seemed a very usual kind of man, Mr. Blanchard, especially out of the ordinary, for this kind of hotel I mean. This was his room, Mr. Hochstetter? Yes. Open it please. Yes, I'll open it. Very usual kind of man. And his friend too, the man who shared this room. Oh, how unusual, how varying, all that money, all that money just tossed around like across the bed on the dresser. And here a clump of it on the floor. Just leave it alone now, Mr. Hochstetter. Oh, yes, yes, I didn't mean to. But you must confess, it's startling to walk into a room, a man is dead out there and there's all those bills just thrown about as if they were confetti. For me, ten, hundreds, fifty. Oh, you were saying, Mr. Hochstetter? What sort of madness could have hit him? Or maybe it was a kind of joy just before... I meant you were saying someone shared this room with him. Yes, yes, Mr. Joe Tobin. They registered here. Let me think, yes, a week ago from Utica. I believe it was Utica. I can check. Don't bother yourself. I'm Utica, me and Artie. Oh, Mr. Tobin. I'm afraid we have rather saddening news for you. Don't bother. I know about Artie. Lobby dames are all excited with his name, what happened to him. One of your bellhops spread the word. You police? Uh-huh. I'm Joe Tobin. This was my bed and that one was Artie's. It's been like that for a lot of years now. Like what, Mr. Tobin? Hey, bank night in a hotel room, huh? How do you figure, officer? Somebody shove Artie through the window, then toss dough around like it was corn for your pictures? I asked you something, Mr. Tobin. Oh, that dough. Killers, Arties. Oh, you mean about me and Artie? How we were? Uh-huh. Friends, buddies, everything 50-50. Born and raised in Utica. Everything, but everything, half mine, half his. Finally kicked together 10 grand, come to this large town to buy a filling station. Artie had a brain. He said, filling station, Joe, in a year, double our investment. That's how we were. Everything 50-50. Except... Except what, Mr. Tobin? Except up to the point where it got squeezed out of him in a hotel marquee. That's where I cut out. I don't die. I'm in Utica and live there. You scared of something? What happened to Artie can happen to you? How do I know what happened, Artie? Maybe it couldn't, but it won't. Utica's nice. Man can live there nice with five grand and a kick, really nice. Another question. Where were you tonight? Where'd you been? Very large town, lots of places to do. I did a bushel of them. Then I got tired, came back here, got the word about Artie. I'm still tired. The fellow's mine and I lie down on my own bed. You can do on it. One thing, Mr. Tobin. Yeah, yeah, I know. Know Utica till I hear from you. You know why? What? It ain't the same without Artie. Not one little bit. Danny? Good morning, Gino. What's the good word? Danny, if I am green this morning, blame it on my chlorophyll. That's a good word? On my soap, Danny, for I am not a greedy man. What are you talking about? This morning before you came in, I counted $25,000 of which not a cent belonged to me. So if green is the color of Tartaglia, blame it on... That's how much money Blanchard had with him, about 25,000. On his person, plus what was found in his room, $25,212, of which not a soo was counted, count of it. You know the last time I saw that much money, Danny? Please tell me. When I visited my cousin Kendall. The one from Baltimore? That's right. The one with the bad table manners, the wealthy Tartaglia. He opened his safe for me once for my birthday and showed me. Can you imagine a man who can't even write his name and ask him for the time of day? You think he'll give it to you? Gino, please. It's always just before three o'clock so we can go to the bank and cash another check. With him, it's all... Danny Clover speaking. This is Mrs. Miller. Yeah? Mrs. Dorothy Miller, 1612 East 27. Yes, Mrs. Miller. What can I do for you? I read this morning that Mr. Blanchard is dead, that you found him on his Hotel Marquis. That's right. What about it? I was with him last night. My address is 16... I have it. I'll be right there. Of course you will. Bye. Bye. It's of course apparent to you that I'm a widow. Mrs. Miller... You've but to look around you at this house. It's femininity. It's... it's graciousness. The fact that there is nothing, no trace of a man in it. You notice? Not for many months now. On the phone you said you were with Mr. Blanchard last night. I'm coming to that. Do you mind? All right, go on. My husband, Les, his name was, Les Miller, he died a year ago. And he left me this place and a filling station and his dying words were, Mary again, Dorothy. You must not remember things, Mary again. The filling station, Mrs. Miller, the one you were going to sell to Artie Blanchard? How could you have possibly known? Just tell me about Mr. Blanchard, huh, and about last night. But I'm coming to that. Just make it now, Mrs. Miller. If you insist. I've tried to get rid of that thing for months now. Not that it didn't bring in a nice income and all for a while. Make it possible for me to do things, gay things I hadn't done when Les was around. Things Les would have died before his time if he'd known. But it became a yoke around my neck and it began to lose money. After all, a woman is hardly cut out to compete on this level in a man's world. You offered it for sale and Blanchard came to you to buy and you went out with him last night. Of course. We set our deal, made arrangements to sign the papers today. He said something of a partner and then he suggested we celebrate the occasion. Just Artie and I. He was... he was... Oh, what's the use of thinking about it? He's dead now. He was what, Mrs. Miller? You know, gay and flippant, little jokes, on team sort of, and whispered into the ear. And I was having a very lovely time until... Until what? Until we went to a place I know on Broadway. A dance place with a jukebox and drinks and shadowy curtain, little booths and Chinese food. And Tommy came up to us. Tommy? Tommy Jordan. Sweet. He's the boy I met when I was doing Broadway one night. And Tommy remembered me. Tell me about Tommy. Sweet. And I remembered him too. You know where he lives? On the second floor on West 43rd, corner of 9th Avenue. He once invited me to a party there, but of course I didn't go. And Tommy came up to you and Mr. Blanchard last night. And I introduced him to Artie and Artie invited him to a drink. He was nice. And then something about a crap game passed between them. And suddenly I was alone, all over again. How dear that Artie. Yes, Mrs. Miller? Oh, but what's the use of thinking about it now? He's dead now. That's all, Mr. Clover. That's all I had to tell you people. But if you see Tommy, please be gentle with him. Who is it? Tommy? Open up, Tommy. Who is it? Police. Open the door. I don't need any. Come on, Tommy. OK. So you're a strong man. So what did it get you? Get down from that window, son. One more step closer and I'm going to jump. Why? Get out of here, that's all. You jump, you'll wind up with a pair of broken legs. That's all. One story up, not so high. You want me to meet you down in the alley or what? Which is it going to be? OK. OK. Now. That's right. Now we'll talk. Don't hurt me. Nobody's going to hurt you. Don't touch me. All right. Artie Blanchard? That's right. That's who I want to talk about. I'll tell you everything. I started it. I'm just a punk and I started it. I talked to a man and he's dead. A punk, me. Started it. Just a punk. And he's dead. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. When choosing a career, most people want to be sure that they'll have a job when they're through studying. That's why the nursing profession is such an ideal one for young women who are high school graduates and in good health. After only three years of study, graduate nurses can find plenty of job opportunities in many interesting fields. For information on your chances in the nursing profession, inquire at your nearest hospital or nursing school. ["The Star Spangled Banner"] A finger of February sun traces the scars of a doorway, stains them gold, and Broadway listens and walks carefully the winter of a room, open softly to a whispering of sun. This could be what was waited for, longed for, held in wind-driven solitude. When delight will be measured once more in heat shimmer and slow drift of white cloud, when a million suns will fling gold against pavement and lie on the cheeks of summer women. So throw wide the door, and you are mistaken. And mid-afternoon of February is the pallor of a Broadway boy named Tommy Jordan. In the room of Tommy Jordan, room of peeling wallpaper and light bulb shaded with photo from movie magazine and grimy souvenirs of his street, leather pillow, stack of magazines. Room where I was and Tommy and in a little while, Detective Denison. You want something, Sonny? Cigarette? Glass of water? Name it, Sonny, it's yours. Go somewhere and die, huh? I'm just worried about you, kid. The way you look. Last time I saw you, you were fancier, younger, too. Older are you, Tommy? Older, like he said. I'm 19 since the last time he picked me up. You're going to let me talk. Sure, Tommy. You said you wanted to talk about Artie Blanchard. I didn't kill him. It's like I told you. Maybe I pointed a man on the way, but I didn't kill him. All right, kid, no argument. You're a punk, and you did something that got a man tossed out of a hotel window. That's a place for a man to die, and a hotel marquee. So we're agreed on everything. Take it easy, Denison. Tommy? Last night, I got word there was a crap game to be had on for fun lovers, well-heeled fun lovers. When the word hit me, I found someone. Hit him with it. Artie Blanchard? Him. Funny the way he walked right out on that Mrs. Miller. People like to know about things like that. I touch their shoulder, whisper to them about it, and they leave. Where was the game? You know, I've been so nervous and excited since I read Artie was dead. Everything else just ran out of my brain. I clean forgot where the game was last night. Maybe this you'll remember. Who else was in the game? All I know is Artie. He gave me 50 for the tip. Look, Tommy, not forgetting your 19 and all on your pale and nervous and just a punk kid with dirt in your ears. Answer, Tommy. Look, what difference is a phone call now? Here, talk. Hello? Yeah. Yeah, this is Tommy. Listen. Give me that receiver. You want to say something, Tommy? That's a good kid. Bob Murray kid. Tonight's game, 6 o'clock, empty store on 10th Avenue. Moreland's novelty spell right across the window. You get that? Whisper the word in a couple of ears. Oh, hey, another thing. No more hotsy totsies like that Blanchard. Gamesters are sad from this type. Happy drinks, kid. Get your coat, Tommy. You're going out. So book him, Tommy Jordan, boy from Broadway, purveyor of odds and ends, tout to those with frayed imaginations, conductor of tours around the clock with refreshments on the hour. Tommy Jordan, middle man for the moody. Book him and leave him. Back to the office, desk, pencil work. Work, segment of life devoted to the principle of the carbon paper and the triplicate, to the coffee and cardboard container and the ham on rye, sips and bites between erasures, which also consumes time, which erases the day, which causes the night. Other chores, squad car with five policemen ride through city street downtown to 10th Avenue to empty store once where novelties were sold. Park, place the men, two in front, two in back. Walk over to the front entrance with Detective Dennison. Yeah? Bob Murray? Yeah. Tommy said there was a game, Tommy Jordan. Hurry up in. Uh-oh. Just leave the door open, mister. The two boys in blue belong to us. They're getting cold. Come on in, fellas. Now, let's all of us go in. Such a good game we're having. Why do you guys have to loss up? Get in the back. Yeah, yeah. Come on, I'll show you. You guys, I swear, every... Fellas. Arrayed, boys. That's nice, it's real nice. Open the back door for them, officer. Take them downtown. I'm sorry, fellas, I am not... You stay here, Murray. Snap it up, boys, snap it up. Wait for me, Dennison. I'll give you Murray in a few minutes. Okay. Uh, just a little game? Yeah, maybe a couple thousand on that table. So, we're in that income tax bracket, so... So, tell me about last night's game. What game? No different. About a man named Artie Blanchard. He win. He's dead. Yeah? So I don't read the paper, so... You kill him? I'm a hard loser, mister, but not that hard. How much do you lose? Hmm, 12 Gs, more or less. How much did Blanchard win altogether? I don't know, cleaned everybody. Artie had a hot fist all night. Who was playing? Just a small game. Yeah, I know, but who? Oh, let me see, Teddy, Teddy Webster. The Lucas Brothers, me, and Artie, that's all. You know where I can get in touch with these people? You're asking for my cooperation, huh? I asked you something. Wait, sure, sure, I'll tell you where. I'm glad for the opportunity to help. Hello, hello, hello. Police, I'm looking for Teddy Webster. But I'm Teddy, for the Adora. Surprised? Yes. Delighted? Look, Miss Webster. Inside, inside there is a spring. You hear it? You hear the music? Come close to it, come inside. All this day I've played it over and over and over. And there's the feeling I will burst. I'll explode, I'll find green grass somewhere. Miss Webster? Yes. How old are you? Put your hand here to my throat and you'd know. 18, I've been told. Only at 18 is it like... Sounds crazy to say this. Then you must say it. Were you at a crap game last night? Exciting. The shadows and the green table, very, very exciting. A man named Artie Blanchard? I lost to him. And I think I kissed him on the cheek for it. Which does he remember, I wonder? How much do you lose? $10,000, but I'm still ahead. Last week I won... Left last night, $10,000. But I'm very rich. My father sees to that. And he lets me have this place alone. And he understands the things I want. Miss Webster? Yes. Artie Blanchard was murdered last night. Dead? But when I left him at the game... Which did he remember, I wonder? My kiss? I'm sure of it, the kiss. Let's go, Miss Webster. I'm under arrest for gambling? That'll be exciting too, very, very, very. All I'm asking you to do is be quiet, that's all. Let's try it softly, Mr. Lucas. How much did you lose at the dice game last night? How much did you... Please, you want to wake my brother? In about two minutes, yeah. Give him the two minutes. He's tired. He was figuring a system for Vegas. It tired him out. Very fine mathematical brain, but it tires him. How about last night, did he get real tired? Not very, no. He hardly got to hold the dice. That Blanchard was all very hot. My brother Ray must have dropped maybe 14 Gs. He stood there trying to figure out by mathematics how to stop this guy Blanchard. How much did you lose, Mr. Lucas? Compared to Ray, I practically won. I lost four Gs. Let's go wake Ray, huh? Oh, we have to. We have to. Ray, Ray, wake up. That's the boy. We're arrested, Ray. Oh, hi, boys. Good evening, Mr. Tobin. This is Detective Denison. Hi, how are you? Well, come in out of the draft. It's on the dresser. I'm not going to tell anybody, boys. Pour yourself a drink. No, thanks. What can I do for you? A few questions. Then what I can do for you is a few answers. Then I can go home to Utica. Anxious to get back, huh? As soon as you give the word. What are you going to do when you get back? Get warm, my way. Tell us about it. You got an eed about how I'm going to get back. You got an eed about how it is in Utica. Matter of fact, yeah, tell us, huh? You kidding? Look, Tobin, all this time we've been trying to be real subtle. What we really want to know is what you're going to do with all that money. My 5G. I hadn't thought about it. Might be a business. But you'll miss Artie, huh? Oh, sure will. Lots and lots. Nobody to go 50-50 with anymore. No. What are you going to do with the other 20,000? Get him. You got me with a question. What are you going to do with the other 20,000? Hey, Clover. Uh-huh? Are you sure you brought the right detective? This is going to sound real dull, too, Tobin. You want to listen? Well, well, Utica fellas are polite. We got a diddy goes with that. You want to hear? I'll save it. You can write on the wall at the pokey. Lots of poets down there. Here's the way we figure it, Tobin. You and Artie, partners 50-50 on everything you said to yourself. I did that. So your 5,000, Artie's 5,000, 10 grand altogether. Hey, that's good. Very, very good. Oh, this guy's a sweetheart, Danny. I'm going to enjoy writing him down. 10 grand and Artie invested it in a crap game. I've talked to everyone in that game. $40,000 was lost, won by Artie. And? And this. Up against the wall, Tobin. Come on, come on, move. Oh, for what? Shake down, mister. Up against the wall. Turn around, face it. Let's get your hands behind your neck, huh? That's the baby. Well, just what do you expect to find? Artie came back here with $50,000. 10,000, half of it yours. And 40,000 he won. We found half of it lying around this room. Where do you keep your wallets, Tobin? Inside, cold part. Oh, I don't get it. Here, Danny, catch it. Bank draft of $5,000, Ruxton National Bank. Yeah, sure. I went down there this morning, got a draft of my money. That's a narrow. No, look. Yeah? I have to stand like this. OK, turn around. What'd you do with the rest of the money? Ruxton National Bank, Dennis and Colin. Right. This is the police operator. Get me the Ruxton National Bank on fifth. That's right. Safe deposit box, Tobin, is that where? Open account, is that what you did? Or is it in another bank? We'll find it. We'll check all of them. Or did you hide it? Well, first of all, we'll tear up this room as a matter of procedure. Hello, this is the police, sir. Let me talk to the head teller, please. Artie was going to steal it. Yes, that's right, sir. This is the police. Yeah, I'm glad to know you too, Mr. Goodwin. Write down this name, Joe Tobin. Hang up. Hang up. Never mind, Mr. Goodwin. Go ahead, Tobin. He invested your money in a crap game, won, and all he wanted to give back was your original investment, is that it? Can you imagine a guy like that? Gambles my money without telling me, wins 40 Gs. All I wanted was my share, half of what he won. What you took after you killed him, huh? Threw his share right in his face. Then threw him out of the window. Well, sure. What do you expect? He was my part. A guy crosses a part, what can they expect? You got a 50-50 understanding, mister. Shaking hands with a guy buddy, guy crosses you. Kill him, huh? Sure. What else you gonna do with a guy like that? Broadway's given up now. The night is dying and it's becoming another day. And for an hour, the fury lies sleeping. Then an engine will start and a horn will blow and people will run out from under the earth and beckon over their shoulders and start the fury all over again. 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 Crouchon as Mogguffin. The program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Anthony Barrett was heard as Joe Tobin. Featured in the cast were Barbara Eiler, Louise Lewis, James McCallion, Bob Sweeney, Benny Rubin and George Perrone. Bill Anders speaking. Every Monday at the Star's Address, CBS Radio presents the Dean of the Drama Program's Luxe Radio Theater over most of these same stations. This Monday night is no exception. For screen land personalities and another full adaptation of an outstanding motion picture, be sure to be listening. Monday nights it's Luxe Radio Theater on CBS Radio. Stay tuned now for the Von Monroe Show which follows immediately over most of these same stations. America now listens to 105 million radio sets and listens most to the CBS Radio Network. Its you
