 Listen to Herbert Marshall as the man called X. Wherever there is mystery, adventure, intrigue, in all the strange and dangerous places of the world, there you will find the man called X. The disaster was the worst to hit Italy since World War II. The raging waters of the river Poe, swollen by torrential rains, overflowed their banks and brought death and destruction to thousands of Italian families. And when the flood receded, it left in its wake hunger, disease, a desperate people. And the minds of desperate people provide fertile ground in which to plant the deadly seeds of revolutionary propaganda. Listen to this, Ken. Americans go home, fascist American pigs, capitalistic war-mongering Americans. Read the rest for yourself if your stomach can stand it. No, thanks, chief. I've heard enough. But how do you account for it? You'd think that after all we've tried to do for those people, money, flood engineers, food, relief shipments, that, well, you'd think we'd get something a little better than this in return. I didn't know we were asking the Italian people for anything. No, of course we're not. We don't want thanks. We're only too glad to help, but, but confounded, we don't want any kicks in the teeth either. Chief, that wave of un-American feeling is coming from the flooded areas. The people there are hungry, desperate. There they are. But that's no excuse. We're sending them help. Well, are they getting it? Well, of course they're. Hmm. You mean the village of Chiori? Yeah. Our main relief distribution center. That's where most of the propaganda's coming from, isn't it? According to these reports from Bob Cunningham, our relief administrator, it is, yes. And Cunningham also reported that he's been having trouble there. A warehouse full of relief clothing burned to the ground. Boats bringing American food upriver have been hijacked. Disappeared. Hmm. Sabotage? That's my guess. But why? Doesn't that propaganda give us the answer? Yeah. Sure it does. Italy's been a prime target of the Kremlin for years. A disaster like that flood is made to order for them. They'll do anything to capitalize on it to, to... What are we going to do about it, Ken? Suppose I let you know, Chief. From Chiori. Well, you wish it to go to Chiori as in yours. That's right. And you are Americano. Yeah, why? Alberto, do not think it the wiser for you to journey to Chiaris in yours. No, not the wiser. Well, why not, Alberto? Oh, the signor has not heard of the flood. Sure I have. What's that got to do with it? Yeah, to make a travel in this country very dangerous. Very dangerous. You don't seem to mind it. Alberto Rienze has driven his boss from Milano Airport to Chiori for many years. He knows this country like the palm of his hand. For him, it is not dangerous. But for an American passenger it is, huh? Si, senor. The senor wishes Alberto to turn back to Milano. No, thanks, Alberto. Well, perhaps the senor will believe senor Conningham. Robert Conningham, the belief administrator? He will be able to convince the senor how dangerous it is for Americanos in Chiori. Only a fool would not listen to his argument. What argument is that? Senor Conningham is a dead murderer. So, senor, we have arrived. The relief for headquarters. This where Conningham lived? Si, and where he died. Yeah. If the senor wishes to change his mind, Alberto's boss is always for hire, for a return trip to Milano. Thanks, Alberto. I'll remember that. Arrivederci. Arrivederci, senor. Good afternoon, senorina. Ericano. Si. I am Teresa Rienza. Who are you? My name's Ken Thurston. You related to Alberto's senorina? What is it you wish here, senor Thurston? Speak quickly. I'm quite busy. That's hardly a friendly greeting. No liberty-loving Italian would ever descend to friendship with fascisti americano. Well, some of your countrymen were friendly enough in 1945 when we relieved you of a nasty little man named Mussolini. That was only because they did not know your true intentions. What are they supposed to be? You helped us fight the fascisti only because you wished to enslave us in turn. To fatten your own purses at the expense of the blood and tears of the Italian people. Oh, come off it, Teresa. You know better than that. I know it is true. Then what are you doing here? Working at the American Relief Station. I do not work here. Cesare Tolini has appointed me administrator since the unfortunate accident to Senor Cunningham. Who's Tolini? The new mayor of Ciori. Does he feel about Americans as you do? He's the one who opened my eyes to your capitalistic wall-mongering. Oh, wonderful man. Yeah, I bet he is. So Tolini's decided to take over operations here since Cunningham was murdered. Is that it? Well, someone had to take charge. There's no one else in the village who could be trusted here. Is that your idea, Teresa? Bill. Oh, Tolini's. I thought I told you not to come around here again. Oh, it wasn't to see you, my sweet. I've got business with Thurston here. Oh, who are you? Bill Desmond. The guy there holding for Cunningham's murder wants to see you. To see me? Why? Says he's an old friend of yours. Name of Pagan Zelschmidt. That's right, Thurston. It's a Zelschmidt character, so you drive into town from his cell. He's on permanent vacation in the village Huska. How come, Desmond? Well, they find him hiding in a storage room right after Cunningham's body was discovered. No better evidence than that? What else did they need when they started yelping that he was an American? What gives with Americans here, Desmond? I can answer that with one obscene word. Tolini. Tolini. He's the big wheel in the hate America crusade. You named it. What's he got for ammunition? American promises made and not kept. The relief shipments? Sure. This was going to be a big deal, America's helping hand, food, clothes, material for new homes. Cunningham arrives and sets up a relief organization, and then nothing comes through. It's burned, lost, stolen. So Tolini tells the people who are Americans are a bunch of grafters and liars, and their own salvation lies in the east. That's it. Right out of the Kremlin's book. Well, he's giving him proof. He's supplying him with food and clothing out of his own warehouse, and the crates are all stamped, shipped from Moscow. I see. Yeah. Well, there's the village pokey, Thurston. As far as I go, I hope I got you squared away on the lash up here. Except for one thing, Desmond. Oh, what's that? Where do you fit into the picture? Simple. I used to be Cunningham's right hand until he fired me. Huh? What for? Stealing relief shipments, selling them on the black market. Well, so long, Thurston. See you around. I'm innocent, Mr. X. Believe me, I didn't have nothing to do with Mr. Cunningham getting bumped out. The people of Chiori say differently, Pego. Oh, it's a frame. I was just an innocent stand-byer. I swear it by the father of my father and my father. All right, all right. When you decide to tell the truth, let me know if you're not on the gallows by then. No, no, Mr. X, please, wait, no. Don't leave me on the perch in this pokey. I'll tell you the truth. Honest. Okay. Let's have it. It was all my Uncle Ahmed's fault. He sent me here. For what? All to help the poor-starving people who got bailed out by the flood. What? Oh, sure, he figured they'd be hungry with given food to eat at cost. Black market cost, you mean. Well, there were certain expenses involved, June. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So what happened? Well, that no good Thurlini threatened to run me out of town. So I went to see that Cunningham gives her for a job. Only somebody had just bumped him out. And I was just looking around to see if there was anything worth stealing. I mean, looking for clues. Well, the police character walked in. Okay, Pagan, I'll go talk to Thurlini. And believe me, getting out of jail will only be incidental. Oh, thank you, Mr. Thurston. So, Signor Thurston, you're here to see me concerning this man, Sir Schmidt. Among other things, Signor Thurlini. Mm-hmm. Then let us dispose of the minor difficulties first. He's free to go any time you wish. Well, then you don't think he killed Cunningham? Naturally not. I kept him in jail merely to chastise him for attempting to operate a black market here. Precisely. The people of Chiare have no need for black markets or relief. They know worth a turn for help. And that's not to America. As you say, Signor Thurston, it is not to America. You know, Thurlini, there's something pretty strange going on here. So? What do you have in mind? An American belief shipments will run into a lot of trouble getting through. Unfortunate accidents, Signor Thurston. Then how come your crates of food and clothing shipped from Moscow haven't met the same accidents? You believe this concerns you? I like to get answers to questions that puzzle me, Thurlini. Yeah. See. And, uh, do you have other questions, also? Yeah. Such as? What happened to the American belief shipments that were stolen? Who killed Bob Cunningham? And why? What could be done about the anti-American propaganda here? Uh, Signor Thurston. The people of Chiare have learned that their destinies are entwined irrevocably with that of the Soviet Union. Oh. Therefore I would advise you to leave this village at once. And if I don't? The consequences of attempting to halt the march of destiny are not always pleasant. Signor Cunningham was one who learned that lesson. You could most easily be another. Well? Sorry, Thurlini. I kind of like this place. I think I'll stick around. We'll return to the man called X in just a moment. The price of prejudice is high. In America, we pay for racial and religious prejudice in the currency of smashed principles, disrupted unity, and weakened democracy. Unreasoned hatred eats away at the very foundation of our country, the Constitution, which guarantees equal treatment for all. Don't let yourself be a target for un-American ideologies. And when you do hear the vicious words of group hatred, speak up against prejudice and for understanding. The men who wrote our Constitution knew that freedom and prejudice cannot exist side by side. If you choose freedom, then help to fight prejudice. Now act two of the man called X starring Herbert Marshall with Leon Balasco as Pagan Zellschmidt. A vicious wave of anti-American feeling is swept over the flood-battered village of Ciori in Italy. Ken Thurston believes it is all part of a far-reaching plan to turn the people of Italy against the Western democracies. Boy, it sure feels good to be out of the clings again. Well, where do we go now? Milan, Rome, Venice? We're not going anywhere. Well, that's just me fine, Mr. X. Anyplace just as long as we're not going anywhere. That's right, Pagan. But they don't like us here. They just leave, cut our throats, leave, or even... Only because someone sold them on hitting Americans. They're going to try to straighten them out. Hey, who lives here anyways? Probably the only ally we have in town. Huh? Ah, it is the senior Thurston. That's right, Alberto. Maybe come in. Oh, Perfebore, please, Senoris. You have become a senior to hire the boss for return travel to Milano? We're not leaving Giori, Alberto. So, then you are not frightened by these savage villagers who hate old Americanos? I think the Italian people are pretty much like you and me, Alberto. They're not born to hate. But sometimes, if they're frightened badly enough, they can be taught to hate. Thank you, Senor. We shall drink a bottle of vino to your deep understanding. Boy, that's the first thing I've heard around here that makes any sense. I'm going to work fast, and I need your help. So what is it you wish Alberto to do? Before I left Milan, I made arrangements for another boat, though, to relieve supplies to be shipped here. I want you to meet that boat up river before anything happens to it. Bring the supplies back here to the relief headquarters with your bus. You can depend on Alberto, Senor, for it will indeed prove to Maya people that the Americanos are the true friends. And do you, Senor Thurston? I'll try to prove that... Tolini is their enemy. There's Tolini's castle, Thurston, on his own private island in the middle of the pole river. He's got his supply warehouse out to here, too? Yeah, that works. Want to ride over and pay a visit? Not yet, Desmond. Crew's around the river for a while. I'd like to study the layout. Why not? I've got nothing better to do. Here, how come you picked me to take this little jaunt with you? I've got some information about you. Like what? Why Cunningham fired you. I told you he thought I was stealing supplies for the black market. Were you? No. Did he have any evidence? Sure. Some of the supplies that were aboard the last boat to be hijacked. They turned up in my quarters. Who framed you? Tolini? Can't think of a better guess. So you've got no job? The people of Giordi hate Americans and you still hang around. Why? Theresa? You've got enough, Thurston? Yeah. Might as well head back to the dock. Looks like we've got a little reception committee. The dock, Thurston. Half the village at Shiori at a rough guess. Yeah, we might be in for trouble. Want to pull out again? No, but if anything happens, remember what I told you. All right. Tie her up, Desmond. I'll see what's going on. Check. Joy, it's your river trip, Cunningham Thurston. This is all I told you, ain't it? What makes it happen? In some respects, people here are no different than in your country, Sr. Thurston. They too can be stirred up into the fury of a lynch mob. Lynch mob, why? You capitalists, do you dare to ask this? Then the answer I give you is this. Oh, that was plain enough. There's hardly an answer to the reason. Then allow me to give it to you, Sr. I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Theresa's father, Alberto Rienza. I should be thankful, Sr. Thurston, that I am a man who believes in the orderly process of justice. Otherwise, my good comrades of Jari would have torn you to bits long before this. Oh, sure. My denies it, you told me. What happens after you've put me in that mud hut you call a jail? If my countrymen wish to take the law into their own hands and remove you from it forcibly. I see what you mean. What happened to Alberto Rienza? He lost his life attempting to defend the river about bringing relief supplies to Jari. Where do I come in? With his dying breath, Alberto informed me that you were the leader of the band, the one who had personally dealt him the mortal wound. Naturally, it was my duty to inform the villagers. Got it all tied up in one neat package, haven't you told me? I think I may say without undue pride that this situation remains under my control. With one exception. Oh, and what is that? This way. Right over here. This way. All right, Pagon. Let's go. You're on the spot, eh, Mr. Rex? Sure, genius, Pagon. Where'd you get the car? Well, I was getting tired of hanging around that Jari joint, so I hasted it. I mean, I borrowed this jalapeau for a little trip to Milan. And when you saw me coming down the street, you figured you could use a paying passenger. That's right. So how's about forking over on the line, eh, Mr. Rex? Be glad to. As soon as we make a little detour. Detour? Yeah, back to the dock in Jari. Mr. Rex, where is my neck sneaking back to Jari to steal this potpot, and for what? So we can visit a warehouse. Warehouse? Where? I'm told in his island. Oh, oh, no, oh, no! Let's get out of this place. What's your poking around in all those boxes for? Just wanted to prove something, Pagon. Mm-hmm. Look at those crates. Not shipped from Moscow. And take a look at what's in there. Sugar, butter. So what? All the packages they already came in are piled up over there in the corner. American packages. All that food's part of our relief shipments. It is? Hey! Hey, then the Torlini joker must be the guy who stole all that stuff. Then he repacked it in those boxes so he could give it to those people and be a hot shot. No. Congratulations, Mr. Zelschmitt. You've figured it out perfectly. Oh, that's all right, Mr. Torlini. Looks like you did some figuring yourself, Torlini. It was not too difficult to find a reason for your exploratory river trip earlier today. And now? That answer is rather obvious. You have come to the end of the road. Do you have all the answers now, Signor Thurston? I got them, Torlini. Good. Then there is no need to delay the execution any longer. Exit. Oh, no. You better listen first, Torlini. To what, Signor? What is there for me to li- That's odd. What is it? Your comrade from Chiori. The stupid villagers you thought were leading like a herd of cattle. The villagers? That's right. Bill Desmond and Theresa had a little talk with them. They're on their way to examine this private warehouse of yours. I wonder what they're going to think of their wonderful saviour from the east when they get a good look at it. No, you're lying. They could not possibly be coming here. Take a look out of the window. See for yourself and give me that gun. No! You can climb out of that crate now. Boy! What a smoker room, Mr. X. He sure made a mistake trying to look out that window. His mistake was made long before that, Pega. When he thought he could make suckers out of the Italian people. But, uh, but he did, Mr. X. Oh, some of them fell for those phony promises for a little while, sure. Like the people in China fell for them. And in Russia. But one thing's for sure, someday if we work hard enough at it, we can wake them all up. Just like we did in Shiori. Now, here's our star, Mr. Herbert Marshall. Thanks for being with us. And my thanks to Veronica Pataki, Will Wright, Stan Waxman, Paul Richards, and Joe Duvall. Next week, the Middle East, where the peace of the world is threatened by a hapenous stamp, a third green eye, and Leon Bolesko will be along as usual as Pagan Zelchman. So join us, won't you, when next I return, as the man called X, good night. The man called X, starring Herbert Marshall, is a J. Richard Kennedy production with music by Milton Charles. Tonight's story was written by Sidney Marshall. This program is directed by Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents on this program are fictitious. And any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. And now, until next week, same time and station, this is Hal Gibney saying, good night for the man called X. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.