 Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Highland, with another true story of crime. Listen. The lady's name is Maria, and she's just come home from a party dressed to kill. She's come home to discover a robber, the famous John Shepard, who removes Maria's lavalier. Gently, her earrings, slowly, and her rings. She was face to face with John Shepard, and for the rest of her life, she'd have something to talk about. Tonight, my report to you on the incredible history of John Shepard. Crime Classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Highland, connoisseur of crime, student of violence, and teller of murders. Now once again, Mr. Thomas Highland. The English king, who was on the throne in 1722, was remarkable in that he could speak no English. Not that he was an idiot. He was a German, and he could speak German very well. As a matter of fact, he brought two young and ravishing ladies from Germany with him, so that he could have someone to talk with, the lonely monarch that he was. His name was George Louis, and his reign was stormy with that trouble with the Jacobites. This unpleasantness, you will recall, was settled by the Duke of Argyle, a soldier and dandy husband to Anne the Knitter. And into these times, strode John Shepard. Well, he didn't stride exactly. He usually sneaked in through the back window, so as to rob. And one night, in April, he got caught. Light the tavern the candlestick, Maria, and we'll see who we have here. And you, sir, don't move or surely this blunderbuss I'm holding will... I shall not move. Husband? Hold the candlestick up to him and we'll see. Who you have here, madam, is John Shepard. John Shepard be you. Well now, well now, sir, you're caught. No more sneaking in and robbing for you, sir. And no more wives of respectable husbands will you make play with. John Shepard. Come away from him, Marie. He's only a boy. Marie. Down he cheek youth. Come to rob. No. I shall tell you why I've come here. Do. I had heard it spoken about, madam, of you. Of me? Maria, come away. Stand aside. Gently, gently, husband. And you were saying what, John? And I sought you out. Unbeknownst to you, I have sought you out and have followed you. Once in a crowded place, I touched. Gently, like this. And this thrilled you, so you've come here to rob us out of house and home. No, to find my lady's boudoir. Now you can talk as much as you wish, youth. For as soon as you are done with the talk, this trigger gets pulled. And from cheap side to the Thames, London husbands all about will raise a hurried my name. Boudoir, John. To drown myself in the scent of yourself you have left behind. Husband? Yes. Come over here a moment. Look at the candlestick, husband. What of it? You were saying, John. Beautiful. Gossamer hair and lips of coddlebutts. Lips. But soft as soft can ever be. If you're to go, go quickly. And the jewels sparkle at your throat. And when you move your hand, it makes a pattern of glitter on the gentle air. Take them. Yes. What? Lady Wedline says about you, she says. Did she? Now hush. Yes. On this night he was barely twenty. His father died from drink when he was three. And he was left orphaned when his mother died a year later. When he was ten, his aunt hired him out to a cane chair maker. But the trade bored him and he ran away. Alone in London he began to pursue the libertine life and was soon adept at picking pockets, mugging, breaking into houses, driving policemen and joshing the ladies. He was a handsome boy and even at sixteen was caught up in a scandal involving Madame Scott's school, causing it to lose its charter for three decades. And once at nineteen, according to a footnote, his activity is all but caused Admiral Brisbane to bring the fleet in from Skagorack to Scotshire Rumour. Romantic, dashing and bold. But he had his home life too. Scaly and neat billowing jinx. Now, Bertie. Pretty boy, where have you been, pretty boy? You know well. Well, I'm out of the question if I knew it well. Where have you been? About stealing. Well, of course stealing. Then show me. Show me why I've been waiting to the wee hours. Nothing to show you, Beth. Oh? On coming home to you I met a man. And he said, what you got to sell, John boy? What you got to sell? Just some baubles. And he cheated you for what they were worth and you gambled and now you got nothing. I saved you something, dear Beth. Uh, what? Here's a bauble for you. A piece of glass you bought at a store for half a night. Here, let me put it to your lowly throat. No. Beth, pretty, pretty Kim. I think to tell you, John, because I've sworn it to me. Beth Lyon, I swore to me. Any more talking amongst the maids in the market I hear. Any more soft laugh and I hear in John Shepard's name with it to the police I'll go to. I swore it. I swore it. Because I'm tired of waiting into the wee hours for you and you coming home tired and cheated, gambled out. And now I want none of you no more, John. You come to me and you'll change your mind, Beth Lyon. All right. We'll see. Now what, John Shepard? Soft touches your hair against my cheek and a sparkle go. Get out of here. Beth, what? You said a thing about the police. Get out of here. The cell's not especially clean, John Luddy. It's never been broke out of. A bite of you. Wife, woman. There's a new one in the little cell. Spoon a pot of gruel and take it into him. I'm not so generous neither. There's only a mate to feed them each day and most of them will hang anyhow. So why fuck the likes of them? That's enough, not that's enough. You take it to him. Hello. What dream is this? What angel is this that brings me sustenance? Here, I'll take it from your softening hands. Why stare at me with soft-doe eyes? I'm but John Shepard. And why widen go your eyes? You cannot know me for I am nothing. And this is a dream anyhow and does not happen in reality. And how am I sure of it? For no cheek was so rosy and warm beneath my lips and if those dainty hands were to hold a key now. Yes, just so. I'll dream. Wake me not. But let the loving fingers turn key in lock while lip presses lip. Madam, no, speak not. But walk with me and show which way how do I get to the street, madam? Without even paying a fine. As a matter of fact there is on permanent exhibition at Scotland Yard a locket which the warden's wife gave to John Shepard as a memento of their walk from Selda Street. A simple small locket with a simple small diamond in the center of it. It is said that John Shepard cherished the locket for a week before he sold it to a pawnbroker. And so he was on the loose again, stealing, robbing, chucking chins, steering clear of Beth Lion and the police, gambling and doing all the things which made him a legend. And one day it was a summer's day and he was strolling in the fabulous Chesney Lane and eyeing the nice things behind the shop windows. And he stopped for a moment and considered a diamond brooch and wondered where the closest rock was. When... Don't do it, John. Don't do it, lad. Huh? Oh, you know what you're thinking, John. How do you get a rock? Do I need to smash a window to steal what you see there? Why, you got your hand on my shoulder because I move the lure, John, lad. And I'm arrested, then? You be John Shepard, won't you? Am I arrested, then? We was told to look out for you, especially here in Chesney Lane. Ah, don't you run, John, lad. Then what do you want from me? I've heard you're a sly one and a nervy one, too. There's a thing on your mind you're not saying. Which is what? It's my duty to walk up and down Chesney Lane to keep the lure and to take note of things. And you've noted what? Down there, across the street, two blocks down. At the corner? The Greystone House? Aye. The house of Lord Kotliff and his lady? Aye. What of it? It is empty. Of the Lord and the lady, that is? The servants? Gone. All of them gone to watering. In Brighton. Dee-dee now. Dee-dee. And I am the Lord Dee-dee, as my name is Cooper Dee-dee. Let us walk. Ah, Dee-dee. Later that day an advertisement was inserted in the London Times that the furniture and belongings of Lord and Lady Kotliff were on sale on the premises in their natural surroundings. The house was thrown open to the public and it was a marvelous sale. The floor walker's name was John Shepard. He also took the money. You are listening to Crime Classics and your host, Thomas Highland. You don't have to tell the average or above-average housewife that radios work before dark, too. Chances are she's already familiar with the daytime dramatic serials on CBS Radio, a succession of fine day-to-day stories about people it's easy to like and be interested in. Every weekday on most of these same stations, one where America listens most, or Aunt Jenny, Marl Perkins, Rosemary, Our Gal Sunday, and all our stars-addressed daytime serials. And now once again, Thomas Highland and the second act of Crime Classics. And his report to you on the incredible history of John Shepard. I would like to speak to you briefly about Nuggett Prison, a Nuggett prison because, as you must know, John Shepard must eventually come here and says, all of us know, too, Lex Omnia Winkett. Well, Nuggett Prison was built in the 12th century and was originally the gatehouse to the west side of London. As a gatehouse, many gate times were had here, travelers being what they are. But in the 15th century, iron bars were imported from Sheffield and as a prison, Nuggett came into its own. The great fire of 1666 destroyed it, but from the ashes rose a dungeon even more formidable than its predecessor. In 1723, the year which concerns us here, Nuggett was a place of dampness and stone and iron, with a special section for shackle and rack. You might be interested in knowing that the most popular method of execution in this era was pressing a fellow to death more later. In the meanwhile, back to Chesney Lane and the House of Lord and Lady Courtliff, a toward the end of a highly successful sale in which the Greystone House was being stripped to its stone. I beg your pardon. Yes. Are the tapestries for sale tools? Oh, yes. And at what price? Which tapestry did you have in mind? Well, let me see. This one. Excellent choice. I like unicorns. 10 pounds. You'll give me a bill of sale. Why should I? To prove that I have come by this honesty. After all... After all what? This is a famous tapestry. Didi. The farandole of the unicorns. Oh, Didi. Lord Courtliff's favourite. I know. He told me. As he told me. A good friend of his? He has many friends. In the police. And you're... Captain Cleaver. I'm... John Shepherd. Only John Shepherd would have the imagination, the audacity to open up a stranger's house and sell all the strangers belonging. Yes, lad. There's an arrangement I have with an officer Cooper of the police. Didi. Why, Didi? Now officer Cooper will be hung too. Oh. Then of it there's no doubt. You're... Wait. What? The proceeds from the sale of the furnishings on the second floor. What of them, lad? Yours. My name is not Cooper. Come along, lad, John lad. You're under arrest. Yes, that stone mason. Tight. Good. You're a staple to the stone floor, right enough, John lad. You'll not get out of here. Now, stone mason, for an extra safety, a U-spike about his neck onto the floor. Now, let me see. A couple more hits, stone mason. A couple more, my man. The only time you'll be leaving Nugget, lad, John lad, is when they trundle your body out. And we'll take another extra safety. Now, hand me those chains, then, mason. Wrap them around you, lad, John lad. Goodbye, lad. Come, stone mason. I have here a newspaper of the time from which I'd like to read a paragraph or two. John Shepard, alone in the stone room of Nugget prison, aspired a crooked nail. With this device, he unburdened himself of his chains. Some have said that John Shepard had aid in loosening himself from the stapling. But John Shepard has claimed that this is not so. But it remains true that unstable he became. Whereupon he removed two stones from the wall of the room, which gave him access to a passageway between the walls. Thus, he climbed to the red room, so-called for obvious and horrible reasons. He threw down the door of this unspeakable closet and thence came to the chapel, removing a spike from the door of the chapel. He experienced small difficulty in opening four other doors, which led him to the roof. It was a rainy night and he almost, in traversing this place, slipped to his doom. However, he jumped across a narrow alleyway onto the roof of a Mr. Finchley who lived next door and opened a window casement of this house. Don't be frightened. Where did you come from? From out there, from the rain. You have no need to be frightened. Who are you? John Shepard. In truth. Such is my misfortune. Misfortune? Yes. How? I say my name and I am shunned by all. My father is... Don't scream for him. Just let me walk through that door and out of here. My father... I know a wrathful man. My father is in the country. I know, in the next room. In the country? What? In the country. I've been trying to tell you. Oh. What wicked man is he to leave you here all alone? To leave you at the mercy of whoever comes across your roof and into your window? He needed to go a matter of his health. What is your name? Angela. I knew it and I dare not speak it. Angela of angels. Oh, John. Yes? Your clothes. They're wet and... Oh, cold. Shivery. In the next room, there's a fire. Take me to it. Oh, take my hand, John. Of angels. Take me to it. And in no time at all, John Shepard had the run of the house. He particularly liked the library and would spend hours here. He liked to read to Angela. And, as your almanac will show you, this was a very rainy summer. So he read to her a lot. And in spite of the inclement weather, it was truly an idyllic summer for these two young people. I love you, Angela. Oh, and I love you, John. John. Oh, John. John. And small lovers spat. I hate you. Hate me, do you? Well, I despise you. Partings. Greetings. Oh, John. Oh, John. John. He'll come back. And John would read to her again. And sometimes, next door, there would be an execution. And they would watch. And every week, Angela wrote to her daddy. Dear papa, it rains here. Most every day it rains. And there is chill in the air. I thank the stars each night that you're in the country and getting your strength back again. Stay as long as you want. And I will come down and visit you at Christmas time. As you have told me to, I improve myself in the library, reading and doing sums and musing. Tonight, there is a thunder shower. How fortunate are you that you are not here. John, I'm writing to my father. Hurry, then. Your loving daughter, Angela. In the autumn, the weather got better. And one morning in early October, right outside Angela's house when John was returning from the Greengrocers, a voice from out of the past all but dropped John like a pulled steer. John. John Shepard. Hello, John. Hello, Beth. Ain't they anged you yet, John? Oh, Preston. I'm a hurry, Beth. Be you, be you now. Police! Yes, hush. Now why should I, John? Because we're old friends, Beth. They were now. John. Yes? Were the police to find you, my lad? What happened to you? Well... They're dang you, wouldn't they? A pressure thinner than a comedy cake. But you won't call them, now, would you? I might. Unless what? Like it was in the old times. Like it was before. John! Well... Oh, now. Well, now. Do you have the parsnips from the Greengrocers? Do you have the parsnips from the Greengrocers? Well, now. Who's this woman, John? It's my... But that's my name, John. I'm Beth Linen, who be you, little dog. Come into the house, John. Come to the house, John, pretty as you please. Well, John ain't coming into your house no more. Oh, yeah, John. Angela... Yes, John? Angela... Now, you'll listen to me. You'll listen to me, John. I know where you came from that night. That first night when you came in from the roof, out of the rain, you came from next door, from Nuggett prison. Yeah, Angela... And if you don't come into the house this moment, I'll yell for the police. And he comes with me a... And when John moved toward Angela, you guessed it. Police! Well, as you can imagine, that brought the police. And John was arrested again, and got his old room back again. He was stapled again, and chained again. And the guard was placed on 24-hour vigil. Yeah, how would you like to... And so he was brought to trial and found guilty of robbery and foot-paddism. And, as was the law of the time, sentenced to execution. Since this was the very autumn when pressing to death went out of fashion, John Shepard was hanged. This last event took place on the 16th of November, 1724, in front of a mob made up chiefly of protesting but fascinated women. An estimated 200,000 in the audience. There were on record certain excerpts. Statements from certain women who had known him. He's so young and gentle, they need not hang him. Poor lad, it'll be a terrible loss. London all seemed different without the likes of John Shepard. There'll be no one to love for no more. Each time it rains, I'll keep looking at the window and remembering. Oh, sweet apparition, and he'll no longer appear. Sweet John Shepard, cruel John Shepard, I scarce know whether I love you or hate you the more. Scarce knew whether she loved or hated him the more, which was about the consensus from a goodly sampling and just think, only 23 years old. In just a moment, Thomas Highland will tell you about next week's crime classic. John Shepard, tonight's crime classic, was adapted from the original court reports and newspaper accounts by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. The music was adapted from themes of the period and conducted by Bernard Herman. And the program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. Thomas Highland is portrayed on radio by Lou Merrill. In tonight's story, Alistair Duncan was heard as John Shepard. Featured in the cast were Betty Harford, Ellen Morgan, William Thompson, Van Wright, Richard Peele, and Jerry Desmond. Bob LeMond speaking. And here again is Thomas Highland. Next week, Rome, Italy, just a little bit before March 15th in 44 B.C., we will concern ourselves with the man and his friends and what happened when they all got together in the same room. It's listed in my files as 23 knives against Caesar. Thank you. Good night. Our Heart Association presents Bing Crosby. Folks, you know, there's never been a job too big for America to handle. Right now, your Heart Association is asking you to join Medical Science in the fight against heart diseases, which take more lives than all of the diseases combined. The goal of the Heart Fund is to help bring new hope to all hearts through new advances in surgery, through new methods of prevention, care, and treatment. The American Heart Association and its affiliates comprise the only voluntary health agency devoted exclusively to heart programs. Mail your contribution to heart, H-E-A-R-T, care of your local post office. Help your Heart Fund help your heart. Lionel Barrymore's Radio Hall of Fame is great Sunday night drama on the CBS Radio Network.