 Broadway's my beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway's my beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. The time comes to Broadway when summer is an early evening. The winds of twilight begin their drifting, and in their wake, the leading edge of night. The laughter begins to bubble in the heat-heavy corridors, and when laughter is to a boil, doors are opened on to the nighttime, and it spills and flows with the currents of this new darkness. And from somewhere a breeze, in the rocket and flare of light, green, blue, scarlet, splashing the faces and shoulders of women heading into the nighttime. The midway is opening now, so hurry, hurry, hurry. Ticket to being sold to Carnival. And in an office at headquarters, the listless ending to a day splattered with minor violences. The stapling together of chondruplicate reports unsame. The dawn of a fan whirring against the remaining wisps of a day's heat, and a detective talking into a phone, then shifting it to his other hand, to his other ear, because it's moist to describe. Sure, sure, George. We'll take care of it. Yeah. That was Georgie, Georgie Beck. Same thing. Yeah, Georgie says to be informed again. Georgie's in danger, he says. Georgie's upset. Pickpocket with a neurosis, Danny. It could ruin him and his business. He calls once more or ruin me and mine. Maybe he's not kidding, my girl. It's a matter of the heat got you, Danny. What are you saying? Maybe he's not kidding? First time Georgie called, we spent a man on him. Weeks we spent a man on him. All it was following Georgie was Georgie's own boozy breath. We fleabagged the bar and danced me around again, Georgie. Maybe whoever was following him spotted our man laid out for a while. Now with our man off, Georgie, maybe he started again. I got a theory, too. You can't hear it? Sure. You won't laugh. Why should I? Because it's the end of a day and you're tired and I'm tired and I'm going to lay a cliche on you. Nothing's following Georgie, the pickpocket. Nothing but his conscience. Nothing. Lieutenant Clover speaking. Maybe now you'll believe, Lieutenant. Maybe now when I'm hurt. Maybe now when I'm sliced up. Go on, my good man. Tell me slow, Georgie. Tell me what's happened. I told you. Georgie, hello? Georgie? What about it, my good man? Missed it. So check records of the detective assigned to follow Georgie Beck. Georgie Beck, a month ago resident of a hotel on 45th Street off the Broadway. Checked out July 5th and moved downtown. Georgie Beck, next resident of Roaminghouse for Transients. Checked out in a week, moved further downtown. Georgie Beck, address Flup House, Bowery. Then assigned detective pulled off of assignment. So go to last known address. Ask a man who sits out front in a straw hat and no shirt. Get an answer. Georgie Beck left a week ago, friend. He went that way. Haven't seen him since. So leave there. Ride the squad car a couple blocks east. Find a bar you're looking for. The beer mug painted on the window is of last year's paint. And last year's beer. Only the price has been repainted. In accordance with the cost of living index is published by Bowery barkeepers. Go in. The man you're looking for has three neckties on. Again. Hi, Benny. Hi again. I don't want you sitting at my table, Danny. Oh, don't bother me today, Danny. You want a beer? I got one. Selling neckties again, Benny? Waiting for a buyer now named Gerison. He likes hand-painted ones with his name. Like these. So I'm showing him in three colors. Gerison in blue or Gerison in pink and Gerison in... How about Georgie Beck? Where is he? He'll leave when my buyer comes. Gerison don't like Lord Danny. He breaks out. He says it's mental. I'll see what I can do. Just tell me about Georgie Beck. You believe me if I say I ain't seen Georgie for a month? You've been away or he? I saw Kovacs, Danny, from here. For the last six weeks. I've been here. Georgie ain't. But the last time I saw him, he wouldn't know. Oh? Yeah. Just in a white tux jacket, black pants with silk stripes and a maroon bow-type cravette. Georgie? Georgie Beck. Just up like a Roman candle. Dropped in to tell us where and all he was going to Fort of July party. You know where? Grab underneath the table when I tell you. To the virulent mansion. Little Georgie to a party on Park Avenue. Where all the rocks are. That's back now. Say, help me. That's what Georgie said where he was going. Look what you got for a butler, mister. Me. Dress like this. I'm from the police. Danny Clover. Dress like this by a Frenchman who thought it's suitable to an August night on Park Avenue. Mrs. Vera Lane. Is she here? Mother? My mother? There is what took you whatever, well, from whatever you were doing and brought you here? Just tell me. In our garden, there is a pool. In the pool there is goldfish. By the side of the pool there is a woman with a crystal glass of black velvet in one hand and a box of fish food in the other. That is my mother. You know black velvet? Take me to her, please. Black velvet is champagne and stout. Sometimes when the fishies are good, mother lets them have a sip. Maybe they've been good tonight and you can watch them get loaded. Come on, I'll take you to my mother. Take a good look, Mr. Clover. Because when mother dies and leaves this place to me, I'm going to die and leave this place for a museum. And through here, the garden, pool, and my mother. Wish up to the snack. Mother, dear, Vera. The surrender is being naughty, buddy. He won't eat. It's the way with goldfish turned drunkard. Vera, pay attention. There's a policeman at my side. He wants you. If you've come young men about the prowler, never mind. We haven't seen him for over a month. I came about a man named Georgie Beck. I reported the affair. I even went down to your jail to try to identify the prowler. Were you one of the officers who was so kind to me then? No. No. I can see you weren't. You were the kind one. But then what can you possibly want of me now? You gave a party about a month ago, in 4th of July. A man named Georgie Beck was there. Was he Bobby? Was there a man named Georgie Beck? I wouldn't know, mother. It was your party. All I did was keep it gay. No. No, there was no Georgie Beck. I know no one but that name. Well, I don't know. I don't entertain. I was told he was here. He told his friends about how he was coming here. But who in the world is Georgie Beck? A pickpocket. A man who's been afraid for his life. A man who's been knifed and is lost somewhere in the city. A man we're looking for so we can help him. So we can arrest his assailant. A pickpocket, you see? Yes. Well, then that would explain why he was here. If he was here, obviously a crusher come to a party where the fabulous lame diamond was being worn. Did I wore it here about my throat? Oh, to think that his fingers might have touched my... Bobby, that's so stifle to me. And this policeman, will you take him away from me, please? Bobby, your mother's talking to you. Stop that giggling. You heard my mother, Mr. Clover. You'd better go. She doesn't want you to fly around here. Walk back through the lavishness of it all and out into the street. And it's night now. It's night on... Soda elegance and marble. And a special vista which includes a gently turning moon in a special color than cloudless sky. Leave it and back to Broadway where moon and stars and sky are obscured by other miracles of light. Man made and metered us to kilowatt hours. Down Broadway to headquarters then walk briefly the shadowed pavement and inside. Hi, Gino. The reason I got this phone in my hand I was just calling communications in case you were still in the squad car. Put the phone down and tell me. Georgie Beck found. He's got Georgie. What are you talking about? As much as I could understand Dr. Lowell when he called he said Georgie Beck. Markovan's still here? Yeah. Get him. Tell him to meet me downstairs. Lights on. Somebody's in there. Try it again. Let's go in, Markovan. Yeah. There they are. Yeah, both of them, flat on their face. Take the dock, Markovan. Right. Get up. Rise and shine, doc. Come on, come on. Both drunk again. Still or yet or whatever you want to call them. Yeah. Dead, huh? Dead. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover. It's so slow on Broadway now. It's summer and the time clock people go home in sunshine and twilight is an hour's time to make ready the fast drink, the fast shower, the quick phone call, his rockets of color and the sudden swift rush of riot. So grab a partner and hang on. Night dies quickly. Night was halfway done before I was. The room downtown in the quiet room at the end of a tenement corridor, death was. Wake up. Get on your feet, doc. Wake up. Come on, man. Come on. And how are you this evening, detective Markovan? And Lieutenant Clover? Can a hand please, Lieutenant? He's dead, doc. I tried, Danny. I really did. Hey, Danny. Yeah? Hand me that bottle, please. We want to know what happened here, doc. I need the bottle. Here. Thanks, Danny. Doesn't mean anything, Danny. Now and then I throw a half-full bottle of booze through the window. It's supposed to mean I'm not going to drink anymore. Come on, Lo. Just tell us what happened, will you? I was looped when he came in. I couldn't help him. I tried. You remember when that happened before, Danny? When he got in the papers? Maybe you need a faucet in your face, doc. Come on, we got work to do. He's all right. Georgie Beck knocked on my door. He was bleeding. He said he walked two blocks like that. I don't see how he did it. I tried to help him. I guess once I was taught what to do, but I saw the blood and I just ran around the room trying to think what to do. I got to lie down, Danny. Sure. I should go ahead. Yeah. You wait here until the wagon and technical comes. First thing in the morning, I want you to do something. Why? It worries me why Georgie Beck was at that party. The Verilane job? What makes you so sure he was there? Mother and daughter don't remember. Georgie had a formal outfit on the 4th of July. Get a guest list and check it down. Find out if and why Georgie was there. Okay. You going home? I've got a call to make first. Look, come on in, Geno. I've been waiting for you. Since your phone call, I've been helped to skelter-gathering material, Danny. And I don't want to seem rude. About what? Well, could not this material-gathering have waited until morning? Mrs. Tartaglia cannot see her way clear to take material-gathering as an excuse for the empty pillow on the left side of the Tartaglia bed. I'll write your note home, Geno. Now tell me what you've got for me. Nearly what you ask. The record on Georgie Beck. Tell me one. Roger. In December 1940, Georgie was apprehended in Times Square encumbered with 16 wallets, 15 of which were traced to squalling citizens, sentenced three to five. In April 1946, Georgie was apprehended with six wallets. Only six, Danny, since it was just 12 o'clock noon. No, no, just tell me about this year, Geno. Roger. This year, no arrests. He was a frequent passer-through at our show-ups, his last appearance being at the early show-up on 23 June. What else? The last entry into this file I was just in the process of typing up, Danny. After being a good boy for over a month, Georgie Beck was stabbed to death by a salient or a salient's unknown. Go home, Geno, it'll wait until tomorrow. Home? You're a strange one. Huh? Yes, you are. Good night, Danny. Then against the flow of an august night, walk the quiet streets of the city. The time is for the looters of night. Somewhere a stockpile of illusion may have been left unguarded. Somewhere there must be a dream not yet dreamed. A whispering uttered to no one else. A corner of an alley unoccupied. The trash can, unsearched. Walk. And be conscious of the night pattern you fulfill, drifter, straggler, searcher, derelict. And in the room, night ebbs, and in its wake, sleep. On the wall of the room dances the image of a pickpocket in finery, sauntering through marble mansions. The new day is headquarters and routine. Hypothesis on the death of Georgie Beck, considered discarded. Then at one o'clock, the day is distilled into a phone call from Detective Muggevin. Get here, it says. A man you ought to talk to. Park Avenue, neighbor of Vera Lane. Three doors uptown. I'll wait for you. And you order the squad car, and you get there. Guy Crale, Danny, one of the guests at the Lane Party a month ago. Lieutenant Clover, Mr. Crale. The thing you two must understand about me in the mornings, I'm irritable. In the morning, repetition bores me. A free translation of Mr. Crale's remark, Danny, is that he's already told me what I want him to tell you. I go ahead, Mr. Crale. Perhaps you don't understand. I have whore being repetitious, tautological. You just go right ahead and be that, Mr. Crale. Now speak your piece to Lieutenant. That's all how you are in the morning. Well, for this mercy, thanks. Well, I attended Vera's shindig. I admired the Lane Diamond about her wrinkled neck, drank the bubbly, put punk to sparkler, and was relieved of certain of my effects. What? What the gent is saying, Danny, Mr. Crale is saying he was heisted of his wallet at this Park Avenue affair. Georgie Beck? Is your companion kept mouthing that name to me? It enchants me. Georgie Beck? What is a Georgie Beck? Do tell me, Lieutenant. A man. A man who was murdered. The pickpocket who we think was at that party with you. Why wasn't the theft reported, Mr. Crale? Well, I had the wish to. The desire to, but I'm a man of brittle spleen and no backbone. Also a man who must carry quite a bit of money with him. Why didn't you report the theft? Because I was persuaded by Vera to be civilized and make a game of it. Game. Amid giggling and jolying women candles we searched each other. The ladies, the ladies, of course. And the men. Well, anyhow, we found my wallet on Johnny who fled from our division to some lair or other. Yes, tell me, Lieutenant, about Johnny, Mr. Crale. You don't know Johnny? Johnny Monday? No, tell me. Which was surprising. Johnny Monday, juvenile delinquent at 14, criminal at 20. Oh, I do relish this account. Just tell me. Well, it would be Vera's offspring. Somehow Barbara found this Johnny and her wanderings, imposed him on our circle, and one night announced to us her engagement to him. Miss Slane was in love with him? Oh, Barbie's emotions are wilderness to me. Anyhow, if she had loved one, it must have died the night he thefted my wallet and fled. Well, I bet you're completely destroyed, my man. Well, real sorry about that. Let's go, Margaretman. Officer Webb. Well, here you are, ma'am. What can we do for you? Records on the early show-up run for June 23rd. Can you get them for me, please? Right away. All yours, Lieutenant. Fine collection of pickpockets, prowlers, and sorted muggers. Thanks. Sorry, I should have made it clearer. This isn't what I want. All you got to do is state your case, Lieutenant. Anything you want, we're here to cooperate. I want to run down on the people who attended the show-up. Spectators, the people who came to identify the suspects. That's right here on the back of the file. This woman was at the show-up? Take away your finger, Madam Senator. Can't make out... Vera Lane, that one? What's there on the regular, Lieutenant? She was here. Lieutenant Clover, that's your member. Who? I was here last night when you were feeding the fish. Yes. Mackamin? It'll be a few hours yet before I feed the fish. Let's go in, Mrs. Lane. I want to talk to you. You won't see me while you see my daughter. That's a nice compliment. Bobby, it's that detective who was here last night. Hello, Barbara. Why now? I'll tell you when, Barbara. I did the polite thing, Mr. Clover. I greeted you. What do you want? Just come back here. Tell me when to stop, Barbara. Yes, Mother? Don't start anything. Just listen to the man. You're here for what, Mr. Clover? To tell you about Georgie Beck. That's the man I read about in this morning's paper. That's the man I asked you about last night. What happened to him? Mother, Mother, you read... What happened to him? He's dead. You're here for what, Mr. Clover? To gather everything together. To tell you why he died. I know why he died. Don't be silly, Bobby. He died because a drunken doctor, a doctor with no license, couldn't do anything for him. That's right. Goes a little further than that. Where's the papers, Ma? Georgie Beck was a little man who thought someone was following. For a while, we put a man on it. Nothing happened. We dropped Georgie. Don't chew your lip, Mother. Just listen to the man. Learn a little. I don't understand this. I don't understand why this man is here. And you don't understand me. Yes, that's right. We dropped Georgie, but then Georgie called. He said he'd been hurt. Then he or someone else hung up the phone. Maybe Georgie figured the police had drunk an ex-medical student. And when you found him, he was dead. Right. Exciting. I don't want to hear the rest of it. I don't want to hear anything. You will, though. Won't you, Mr. Clover? You want her to. Over and over. Over and over. Hi, Ma. What am I going to do with you, Mr. Clover? Did you ever hear a more stupid question in all your life? Georgie was at your fourth of July party, wasn't he? You trying to beat Ma in stupid questions? Mrs. Lane, tell me about the time you went to the police shop. I... you're a willful, spiteful girl. I know, I know. I don't know whether you ever saw a prowler in office, Mrs. Lane. That's not important. What's important is that you were at the June 23rd show at the same time Georgie was. Then all of a sudden Georgie had formal clothes, went to your party, started living at a good hotel. Ma hired him. Didn't you, Ma? Mom? Mom, didn't you hire him? Yes. Yes, I did. I'm your mother and I know what's best for you. She's my mother and what's best for me is to hire a pickpocket. You know why she did that, Mr. Clover? I know, to pick a man's pocket and plant the wallet on a boy you were engaged to, to discredit him in front of your guests. To make him run away from it? Yes. Yes, I'm your mother. Oh, shut up! You're my daughter and you wanted to marry a boy like that without record. A criminal with a record. Who's going to marry me now, mother? You killed Georgie back, didn't you, Barbara? After the party. After what happened... Don't tell him! Don't talk to him! After what happened, Johnny came back. Johnny Mundy, Mr. Clover. My love. The boy I'm never going to marry. He came back. He called me the next morning and I met him. You never knew that, mother? No, I didn't. I don't know anything about you. I don't know what kind of child you are. I met Johnny, Mr. Clover. He told me he recognized that man at the party. At Georgie Beck. He knew what he was. He found him and followed him. He was going to kill Georgie, but I begged him not to. He told me where Georgie was and I went there. But I saw a policeman. I waited a long time until there were no more policemen. And then I did what I had to. Why, Bobby? To get back at me? When I was leaving? When I was leaving Georgie's room, Mr. Clover, he crawled over to the phone. He called someone. You, I guess. I watched him for a while. I took the phone out of his hand and hung up. What happened to your fiance? Where's Johnny now? I don't know. I gave him money and he went away. Of course he did. Why isn't he here now to help you? Like I am. I'll help you, Bobby. I know what to do. I'm your mother and I know what's best for you. Sure. You'll be a great help. You wouldn't let me marry the boy I love. Well? Who's the son? Ain't a murderer. The Night Fury races against the time of dawn on Broadway. It needs those hours to prove itself. Mob and grinning faces. Hockers. And the high heels clack. And the high heels clack. And the high heels clack. And the high heels clack. And the voice that whispers. But hurry. Time is a race. And night lasts only so long. It's Broadway. The Godiest. The most violent. The lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Ways My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover as Charles Calvert as Tortaglia and Jack Krushen as Muggevin. The program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Irene Tedrow was heard as Vera Lane and Michael Ann Barrett as Barbara Lane. Featured in the cast were Herb Butterfield, Ben Wright and Leo Cleary.