 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. When November settles down over Broadway, everybody's got a lot to cheer about. It's the time of the hot dog, it's the season of the rackety-racks and the split-tea formation, the coaches left-hand on the pigskin who swear their boys aren't being brutal out there in the field just eager. It's the month of the old grad, the co-ed, the bottle, the blanket, what is known as the nippy tang. It's a time to be alive. There's a place just off of Broadway, a room sealed off from every other place in the world, structurally designed to keep out everything but pain. The police mark where I was, where Detective Muckerman was, and the slabs that held two men newly dead. Alcohol poisoning Danny, they were shipped here from the emergency hospital for identification. You know who they are? Yeah, this one, Joey Macklin, Bowery, Pickpocket, Bum, Panhandler, Rummy. This one, you know him? No, he's the reason why I called you down here though. Notice anything Danny? Looks pretty well-fed. Fingernails look like they'd been manicured not too long ago. Couple other things. This, found this crumpled mask in his pocket. Take a look at his clothes. Really raggy, huh? Underneath he's wearing silk underwear. You taking prints? Last night as soon as they came in. Code numbers sent to Washington right away. You say the emergency hospital sent them over? Yeah, they staggered in there practically blind from the bumbos. Screaming. We couldn't help them Danny, they were too far gone. They had the liquor on them? No. More of it someplace, Mugman. Nethyl alcohol and peach juice and beading oil. How come people... I've seen them brought in after they strained paint to a piece of bread. I've seen them with a try. You're right about this one, Mugman. He looks too patently a bum. That's why he looks out of place. I figure that too. So strange, huh? And then it closes in on you, this place of the derelict dead. The windows are high and the moist walls high so that dead fingers can't reach. Open, let the sobbing of death be heard in the autumn air. The sunlight feels along the windows webbed with threads of steel and the warmth is taken and held before it can touch the people of a room that is forever cold. All of it has been yours countless times and still the shutter comes. You try not to let them see it. Then you take Detective Mugman's comment that it's strange. Take it with you into a long corridor up a flight of stairs. Drop it on a sergeant's desk for an immediate checking. Fill the time of waiting in the official ways provided for such intervals. And the door opens. It's being brought back to you cheerily by Sergeant Tataglia. Danny, I want you to do something for me if the please is implied. What, you know? I want you to stick your nose out the window. Why? To partake with me of the nippy tang that is there for everyone's knowing... I've had mine, you know. Then you will agree with me that it is both nippy and tangy. That it makes the vitality surgeon who... There's a surgeon up here to hand me whatever you're holding in back of you. Which hand, Danny? Geno. A fellow wants to play a little game, takes a second. Brings a little happiness. What have you got, Geno? In this envelope is contained a telegraph report from the FBI and then the request Detective Mugman made of them concerning the fingerprints of the deceased vagrant who is now in armor. Oh, give it to me. Identified. They've identified him, Geno. Those FBI's quiz him a question and lickety-split they give you an answer. John Howard, Lieutenant Colonel Richard... Retired from the Army of the U.S., present address 3212 Park Avenue, occupation bond salesman. I pete Danny. I also took a liberty. Oh? Yeah, I took the liberty of falling to the domicile of said deceased, spoke to a Mrs. John Howard, asked her politely to come here to... Why don't you be here? Any minute, Danny, in an ounce. She had but to find a suitable outfit for an outing to police had... this liberty I took. You did good, Geno. Real good. Wait then. Pick a window and stand there and watch the street below. The eddy of crowd. The cars, impatient of those stupid enough to be pedestrians. Watch the first shadows drift in. Pick a place and shadow layer to find another place. Finally, see a car draw up to the curb. A long car and black and expensive. And a woman get out of it, stand on the pavement and look at the doorway, mark police headquarters, hesitate, and then walk toward it. Then leave the window and hurry downstairs. Pick up the woman at the information desk. Ask her a question. Yeah. Hi, Mrs. Howard. My name's Clover. Will you come with me, please? Of course. Would you mind telling me why I'm here? Through this door. Not at all. In cases like this, we're not really sure, so... Sure about what? A man died last night. There's a possibility you might be able to identify him. A man died? Yes, from mental alcohol poisoning. John? My husband? It was John? In here, Mrs. Howard. You have answered me. He's a John. I'm afraid that's what you like to tell us. Oh. Oh, no. Mrs. Howard. Oh, I want to see. I want to see. This man is my husband. I'm sorry, Mrs. Howard, if you... ...ungrief, the futile offering of the tried-and-true solaces that have never worked. Not against the sobbing, anguished, deep. Then, finally, the whispered cry of some remembered thing they had shared, and the resigning to it, the remembrance will never come again. The detail of a man to drive her home, constrain the questions that must be asked for another time when the sudden anguish has become old, familiar, a thing to be lived through. Strip a picture of John Howard from a file to take with you to a man who is an expert on the whys of derelicts. A man you look for, find in a Third Avenue bar, embarrassed. You embarrassed me before my friends, Danny. Truly. It is well known what you were and what I am. I am now trying to demonstrate to these companions. What are you now, Benny? I am now one of the honorable and the oldest professionals. Which profession now, Benny? A provider of knowledge, Danny. Look on the new Benny fame, the pillar of culture, a seller of psychopedias. You, Benny? Me, Benny. Gays on a brochure. I've got it here somewhere. Here it is. A psychopedia with wild facts on the kingly sport of racing. You sell those? With a biennial of penics to bookies. To fill in the long hours while looking for a tax-free dodge. I found mine. No longer at the mark of police, am I? Yes, you are, Benny. I am. Uh-huh. Take a look at this picture. Danny, how can you? A picture that did you got to show me now? You are not to the papers printed in an orbit that I know of. Well, I see them around. Where? In a bar, where you skid row, you know. That's where you were selling in psychopedias? Danny. I was calling on an old friend, Mickey Thomas, while cutting up a few reminiscences. He up in a glance across the hall. There was this guy. This picture you showed me. Boozing up with another guy named Joey Matlin. I weighed the toast. I went back to my... Take me there. Huh? Where? To Mickey Thomas, the man you visited across the hall. Take me, Benny. Danny, I was about to close a sale. We could go by way of headquarters, Benny. Uh, I know a shortcut. Come on, Danny. South into the Bowery and east past Lexington past the row houses where there's always room for one more tenant. And the street where garbage cans are used for first and third base. The man with you points out an interesting fraction. I was going there, Danny. Right in that house. And hit 3rd Avenue. You wouldn't believe how us kids used to wear clothes. Hi, Danny. It wasn't important. The place I was telling you about is right there. Now, let me... Let me open it up for you, Danny. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You better watch this... This floorboard right here, see this? Oh, I know these places. I really know. Oh, it's Mickey. Oh, he's raising the roof. It's Mickey. What's the matter? What happened to you? My drink is in that liquor. Oh, I can't see. Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Well, I think you've got to do that, kid. Treat the morning nice. Maybe that way you'll still be on your feet when day is done. So set the loudspeakers to music guarantee to absorb shock. Climb the spectaculars. Remove and replace the masters that died in the night. Polish the neon. Wash the night dust off the mannequin's face. Tighten the bolt. Tilt her body more forward, her head nearer to the shop window so that her lips are closer to the promise of a good morning kiss. Having made way for another day, find the quiet place to read the papers. And read of the death of retired kernels and pickpockets from lethal alcohol and of the blindness of a skid-roll vagrant named of Mickey Thomas from the same. And skim through to the comics. Their kid lies happiness. When I was, the new day fell on the sightless eyes of Mickey Thomas on the fleeting figure that worked against his pain. Finally, whispered, you'd better come back with him later and leave to another place to ask questions about the dead. The woman tries to answer them for you. The last time I saw him, John, the last time I saw him was Halloween night. We'd been invited to a party. We wore funny clothes. That tramp suit you found, John, in it was the funniest thing he could think of. Mrs. Howard, you... You will make it brief, won't you? You see, I'm packing. I'm going away in the boat. You're leaving the country? Europe. There's a plan, John, and I had. Europe. All the gay places he'd been while he was in the war. A couple of weeks ago, out of nowhere, he said I'd love him. Let's go, Lila. I've just given up my 20,000 a year position so I can show you to Europe, Lila. Maybe you'll like it so much, Lila. We'll never leave. Mrs. Howard, perhaps it might... You're not going to stop me from going, you know. John said it would be fun. I'll just have to have fun alone now. You're not going to stop me. No. We've no reason to. Now. Good. I'll sleep on the boat tonight. If I slept here, the boat sails in the morning. You said now. Would there ever be a time you could stop me? I don't know yet, Mrs. Howard. All I know now is that your husband, a rich man, died of poison liquor, that he came in off a skid roll. Well, that's easy to explain. It is? Of course. John got feeling good at that Halloween party. High, you know, high and gay. Whenever he got like that, he'd make bets. He made one that night? Crazy one. The kind he liked. That he could go to skid roll dressed as he was and live there for a week and never call on any of us for anything. When he thought of it, he grabbed Frank and said, Frank, who? Frank Clifton. Frankie was John's adjutant during the war. He grabbed Frankie and made the bet. And you never saw your husband after that until... until you showed him to me in the morgue. Frankie and I went looking for him one night because I was worried we didn't find him. I came home. Frankie kept looking. He didn't find him. Do you have Mr. Clifton's address? It's in the phone book, Sutton Place. For a minute there, Mr. Clover, you actually considered not letting me go on this trip. Tell me why. And Mrs. Howard, I... Nothing about John's death. Is the word trouble? John's death troubles you? Well, in the way I told you, Mrs. Howard, that a wealthy man, an intelligent man, would find his dying in... In poisoned booze? John was a man of whims. Let's only say of him that he indulged his last one, shall we? I'll check, Mrs. Howard. I'll check him what you've told me. Do that, Mr. Clover. Let me know before nightfall. In any event, call me to wish me bon voyage. I'm gonna have fun, like John said I should. Thank you, Clifton. Come on, mister, the rest of me behind the door is in a towel. What do you want? I'm from the police, Stanley Clover. Well, I'm in the... Yeah, I know, in a towel. I want to talk to you. Sure, sure. Come in. A few minutes ago, you wouldn't have caught me doing my laps around the lake on the bicycle. Gonna miss that old Columbia bike when I'm in Europe? You're going to Europe too, Mr. Clifton? Yeah, tonight. What do you mean, too? Mrs. Howard is going. Will she? News to me. I figured it'd be decent if she grieved till the next boat. Hey, just why are you here? I'm trying to find out why John Howard is dead. Come on, come on. You know as well as I do why John's dead. Poisoned booze, alkie. I want you to tell me what happened at that Halloween party. Oh, all right. Don't rub it in. So it was my fault. You made that bet with Mr. Howard, didn't you? About going down to the Bowery and living for a week. That's your job, isn't it? Rub salt and old wound. How come you made a bet like that, Mr. Clover? I didn't want to. You knew John like I did. How do you argue with a man like that, Clover? What kind of man was he? Everything was a bet. He could be walking along. He'd pick any stranger in the crowd, make you wonder about him or her, and then bet you were wrong. He'd find a way to prove it, too. I was his adjutant, though, through the war. That's how I spent the war, making a book for him. I want to know exactly what that bet was you made with Mr. Howard. But first you got to understand it. I didn't want to make it. All right, I understand. He bet me on the kind of he was dressed like a tramp. He could go down to the Bowery and live like one for a week. He could do it longer, he said, except he had to catch that boat. Eat anything a tramp does. Drink anything. You don't know. The works. $400. Mrs. Howard said she got worried a few days ago. She hadn't heard from him. That she went down to the Bowery looking for him. With me? We looked, couldn't find hide her hair. Got laid, I sent her home and kept looking. Not quite. Then Mr. Howard is a pretty good friend of yours, huh? My CO from Amsterdam to Essen to Cologne to Mannheim to Berlin. And that's why you're going to Europe, huh? Take another look. Close places and let us not forget Paris. My old man got over there in the first war. I didn't. He still holds it over me. Look, over your mind if I soak the old body now. Thanks a lot. I'll drop you card. Walk away from the man eager for the sightseeing of old sights. Walk away with the puzzle still yours. Why a man like John Howard should die of poisoned alcohol? Why a man like Howard would so quickly descend to a state where alcohol from whatever source was so needed that he challenged death for it and way against it the possibility of death caused premeditated murder? And let the thought take you back to a hospital room where a man lay with his eyes bandaged against light and another sat at his bedside talking quietly. Martin is doing what he can for you, Mickey. You're getting the best, but... Hi, Danny. How is it? Better, I guess, Danny. He's been asking me... Tell him, Mickey. Who is he? Lieutenant Clover. He's the man that found you, Mickey. He got you here in a hurry. Oh, that makes me have to thank him, huh? Thanks, Lieutenant Clover. Mickey, can you answer questions? You feel up to... I've been complaining in a loud voice to this other social worker here. Yeah, I guess I could answer a question or two. Where'd you get the booze? I got it. Tell us where, Mickey. We'll bring them in for you. Nothing I could wish more to get the guy that... Funny, huh? What is? I don't know where the booze come from. Look, Mickey, you still... I don't know where it come from. All I know is I waited till Joey Macklin and that other character ran out of their room. And I crossed the hall and snitched me what was left from that bottle. He died from it, huh? Lucky boys. Lucky, lucky boys. You stole the alcohol. That's how... Maybe Mickey stole something else, Danny. Found this in his clothes. Oh. Oh. Pomp, I could... What's it for, Mickey? A price no belonging. That means it belonged to me. What's it for, Mickey? Me and my back, you'll find out anyway, won't you? Yeah, Mickey, we will. So go find out. And do something else for me, huh, Lieutenant? What? On your way back, pick up a tin cup and a box of pencils. It'll be a favor. Can Mr. Fring do for you? Police. Mr. Fring is delighted to serve you. In what capacity does Mr. Fring do that? As a redeemer of pawn tickets. Oh, this one. Hmm, Mr. Fring remembers it. Why shouldn't he? He wrote it only yesterday morning. It's being redeemed, Mr. Fring. Surely. A cigarette case. This looks like a pretty expensive item, Mr. Fring. How come you only lent two dollars on it? Because he who pawned it was one of our boys. Why do you say our boy? Mr. Fring calls your attention to the fact that all who serve are our boys. I call your attention again, may I? Please do. To the engraving on this case. A screaming eagle with a dagger. An obscuring figure. However, I'm positive and insigual of one of our doubty combat outfits. I know because during unpleasantness number two, I sold our boy shoulder patches as a sideline. I've just re-ordered. Mr. Fring. Hmm, you're taking it. There's two dollars plus interest due on it. Yeah. Can Mr. Fring whistle? Well, for one thing about that insignia, it was assigned to an army intelligence team. Well, where'd the team operate? Mostly in Germany. Around Cologne and Essen in Berlin. Yeah. Yeah, Mannheim too. Yeah, go on, my government. Well, the rest of it's John Howard's record. Civilian and army. Civilian, not a whole lot. A good businessman resigned his position a few weeks ago. The reason he gave his employer was pretty vague. Yeah, I know about that. But what about the army? Uh, Howard was the head of an army intelligence team to recover loot. Near Essen. In Germany. You know, confiscated treasure and stuff. They found some, too. Belonged to one of those rich German families, worth a mint. Only the original owner screamed that some stuff was missing for him. And what else? Well, Howard, he was a Lieutenant Colonel then. Had a couple more men on his team. A sergeant who died in Europe from pneumonia before he got home. And a major name of Frank Clifton. Clifton. You know, you need much more, do you, Danny? Nothing. Thanks for a motive. This is Mrs. Howard, Danny Clover. What? Clover, let's go inside, huh? Why not? Come on in. Next door, people, Anna. Boy, look who it is. Welcome, welcome, welcome. Don't look daggers at me. I'm just visiting, Frank. Ask the question, Clover. What do you want? I came down here to break some nears to both of you. Look, Clover, we're due next door for a presailing party. Now you're going to Europe. Sure you know. I told you. I owe myself a sentimental journey. Frank said you'll show me all the places John was going to show me. There's a place near Essen. I don't know whether you'll get to, Mrs. Howard. Come on, Clover. Get off it. Your husband ever talked to you about a town in Germany called Essen, Mrs. Howard? Of course. On account of that town, John got a citation. Frank too, didn't you, Frank? Sure. We found some Luther Nazis buried. Turned it back to the rightful owners. That's right. John told me all about it. I used to ask him, tease him. Why he didn't hold out a little darling lovelier for me? I figure he did at that, Mrs. Howard. How do you figure that, Clover? John Howard had a $20,000 a year job. He quit it. He quit it to go to Europe. There must have been something in Europe worth a lot more than $20,000. And it had to be something he couldn't bring back into this country. So John Howard wasn't coming back. He doesn't know what he means, letter. I mean just one thing. Not all that Luther's are covered. It makes a lot of sense that the reason John Howard gave up such a good job is because he'd hidden the missing part of that loot. Imagine that. He knew where it was. So did a GI, a sergeant who died in Europe of pneumonia. So do you, Clifton. The three of you, members of the team that found the loot in the first place. Now John did. Frank. Frank. It's a funny story, Lalo. Why aren't you laughing? You kept looking for John in the bowery after I went home. Did you find him? I told you I didn't find him. That means I didn't find him. You found him. You're calling me a liar, Clover. That's no way to get to a party. You want a cigarette, Clifton? Here, take one. Put that case away. Why? What's the matter with it? What kind of a man are you? A barge in the... Can't you understand the situation, Clover? The champagne, the shipboard party. Don't you see it for her? Lila. Try to make her smile again. What's the matter with the cigarette case, Clifton? Don't you understand? It's his case. It's John's. How do you think it makes Lila feel to see something that belongs to him? Frank, and how do you think it makes me feel? Remembering the times, remembering his offering me a smoke from his... Frank! Not his case. John never smoked. He never did. Never, never! Why, what's going on here? Mr. Clover. I'll tell you what's going on. Frank murdered your husband. Did you, Frank? He comes up with a lousy cigarette. Casey says, murder. You killed him, Frank. With poison alcohol. He found your husband. Found out where he was staying. Found a bum named Joey Macklin, who he was living with. Gave Joey a jug of poison alcohol. He knew your husband would drink it. That was part of the bet. You coming to the party with me, Lana? But Joey Macklin was also a pickpocket. He stole this cigarette case from Clifton. Then he and your husband drank the booze, died from it. Come on, Lana. They were waiting for us. A man from across the hall. A man named Mickey Thomas stole the booze that was left. He also stole the cigarette case Joey had lifted. Mickey found it. That's how I know you found John Howard, Clifton. You're under arrest. Boy, at the end of night. You run after it, but a hand at your sleeve tucks your back. A grinning face whispers that you keep running. Till the same voice whispers the odds you'll never make it. And you'll never do the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. This is Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvin as Tortaglia and Jack Krushen as Muggevin. The program was produced and directed by Elliott Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Irene Tedraw was heard as Lila Howard, Lou Merrill as Frank Clifton, Leo Cleary as Benny Fane and Steve Roberts as Mickey Thomas. Tonight on FBN Presents, you've been listening to some of the best in radio drama. Mickey and Molly and Broadway is my beat. Join us again Monday evening at the same time, 9 o'clock when FBN Presents, Dragnet and Escape.