 Broadway's My Beat. From Times Square to Columbus Circle. The Goddiest. The most violent. The lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat. With Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway. On Christmas Eve, Broadway's natives dance their Christmas dance to the music of carols flowing out of tinseled loudspeakers. The kids mash their noses against plate glass, lick it and watch the mechanical clown, the mechanized tour army, the tin man dancing a jig in a tin box, the riser dark with desire and hunger. They make a wish on a neon star. That's how it is on Christmas Eve on Broadway. My Beat. On the morning of the day before Christmas creatures are stirring at police headquarters. There's the patter of tired feet and the sound of manly giggles as little gifts are hidden in desk drawers or poured into Dixie Cops or slipped under the police blotter. And in my office there's a kid I knew, name of Marty Wetnick. Danny, I don't like to disturb you at this unmentionable hour. Ten o'clock in the morning? Unmentionable? You kiddin'? Sleep is not yet fled for my starry eyes. What makes me bounce my pillow at an hour, which is for the squares, is a problem. What's your problem, Marty? Am I or am I not the child president of your branch of the police athletic league? You are? So I promise my constituency of fellow former delinquents a sandy claws for Christmas. That's the problem. What are you going to give with a sandy claws? Don't laugh, Danny. A former delinquents shouldn't be disillusioned. Could make them anerotic. So I repeat, on behalf of my constituents, where is sandy claws? He'll be here in a minute, Marty. Sergeant Tartaglia. Oh, here he is. Come on in, Sergeant. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun! This guy's a sergeant? Hey, Tartaglia, this is Marty Wednick. He wants sandy claws. Oh, he's coming, Danny. He's coming. Come on in, Sandy. Everybody make way everybody for sandy claws. And what's your alias name, little boy? This guy's a sandy claws. Who's the kid? The punk, Danny? Who is he? Marty Wednick. That's who I am. So you're a sandy claws, huh? Audition me something. What? Why, you crummy little- Take your hands off me, sandy claws. Is this the Christmas spirit? I'll give it to you in the mouth, fresh kid. You and how many rain- Wait a minute, wait a minute, you two. Marty, this is Nick Norman. Nick Norman, the ex-con? How do you like this monster? For 15 years I've been playing sandy claws at Sing Sing with no complaints, mind you. The first day I am a free civilian, playing me old part, the squirt gives me the hook. I reside for sandy claws. I don't get treatment like this even from the guards. Well, take it easy, Nick. Marty didn't mean it, did you, Marty? How was I to know that sandy claws here was the world-famous light-fingered safecracker? Ex-light-fingered world-famous safecracker, you. Well, does he meet with your approval, Marty? Well, the costume is sloppy, the beard's more eaten, but yeah, he'll do. Don't throw me no favors, punk. You want to know something, Nick? What something? I like you. I think you are the best sandy claws that has ever been my privilege to present to my constituent of the P.A.L. This is from the heart, Nick. That's better. You've got to show respect for sandy claws. What time's your party? Eight o'clock tonight. You'll be there? I'll be there. Well, so long, Danny, Sergeant, sandy claws. See you at the party. Merry Christmas. That's a good kid. Appreciate the finer things. Feels good to be out, huh, Nick? Fifteen years is a long night without sleep, Danny. Yeah, feels good. And thanks for the job of sandy claws. I would miss it after all these years. The deal, we made. That feels good, too, huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, the deal, sure, Danny. I'll keep my promise, do you? That's good. You won't forget what happened fifteen years ago on Christmas Eve. How can I forget? I was like today. I was all dressed up like sandy claws. I had a few idle hours, and right in front of me, that just happened to be an idle safe. So I cracked it. So I got caught. Uh-huh. And what are you going to do now, between now and eight o'clock, the time the party starts? Walk the thoroughfares and wish everybody joyous tidings and pat kids on the head. And leave their mothers purses alone. Oh, Danny, how can you talk to sandy claws that way? I promised you that... Oh, sure you did. It's a taglier. Yeah, Danny. Tag along a sandy claws. Fresh ale do you both good. Oh, gee, thanks, Danny, thanks. You know the fresh ale do is both good. Yeah, but hold his hand, Taglier, so he won't get lost. We don't want him to get lost, do we? Oh, no, Danny. No, because what's Christmas without sandy claws? Have fun, boys. So everybody was happy, and that was good because it was a season for it. Sergeant Taglier was happy because I had not only given him permission to leave the room, I told him to go out and take a walk with sandy claws. And everyone knows that sandy claws is always happy, even if once upon a time he had to spread his glad tidings around Sing Sing. I considered it a while, and then I decided to inhale the bloom of Christmas as it filtered through police headquarters, and it made me feel happy, too. It lasted for two inhales. The stain on the door says Lieutenant Danny Clover. I don't believe in signs. What's your name? Uh-uh, what's yours? I came prepared for a question like that. Here's my card. Thanks. Simon Larrabee, real estate and rentals. Are you renting something, Mr. Larrabee? Ah, that would give you the upper hand. Two questions to my one. And you haven't answered it yet. Danny Clover, like the sign says. That's my name. You're quite right. I am renting something. Go ahead. Rent away. I like to watch. I'm doing it now. Just looking at you. I'm renting that property known as the warehouse at 2290 East Grand Street. Whatever makes you happy... Wait a minute. That's our clubhouse. That's where the kids are having our Christmas party. Are you? What's the... What else can it be? Where's the rent? Rent for what? Rent for that property known as the warehouse at 2290 East Grand Street. You mean it hasn't been paid? How much is it? It's $62.50 a month. Oh, that includes utilities. I'll pay it. The club's treasurer will reimburse me. You don't understand, Mr. Clover. When I rent something, I get a year's rent in advance. That comes to $750. And I want it before there's any party there. Are you kidding? Why are those kids going to get money like that? Well, I'll give you until eight o'clock to get the money. Now, just sit right here until then. All right. Grab yourself a police gazette. Never touch the stuff. Sit yourself. Oh, excuse me, son. Danny Clover speaking. Danny, Danny, this is patrol in Curcio. Yeah, what is it? I can hardly hear you, Curcio. Yeah, yeah, well, me... Why the sirens? What's the trouble? Sergeant Tartaglia is up a tree. What? Sergeant Tartaglia. When I got down to the Avenue A playground, it was having the Christmas party of its life. A 30-foot tree, complete with tinsel, candy canes, colored popcorn balls, firemen, and a scared sergeant policeman, forlorn and lost, pinned to its top branch. The fire department finally convinced Tartaglia that a ladder was a safe invention for getting down on the tall trees. At the bottom rung, he almost believed it. When his feet touched the ground, they gave him a blanket because he was suffering from shock. He was about to tell the newsreel boys his ordeal when I faced him. Oh, Danny, Danny, I was about to tell the newsreel boys my ordeal. Well, just tell me first, Tartaglia, because I hardly ever get to the movies. I'll be with you in just a minute, sir. Oh, Danny, it was awful. It was something awful. I only ask this because there's so much about you I don't know, Tartaglia. Why do you climb trees? Oh, I don't, Danny. The height scares me. When I was a child, the tree threw me on the ground. Still, you climbed this tree. Why? Because I'm a policeman. That makes sense. But how? Well, sure it does, Danny. The kids see me, I am a policeman. They need to put a star on top of their Christmas tree. They ask me because I am a policeman and can do such things. I couldn't let the department down, Danny. So you leave Nick Norman alone all by himself because you don't want to let the department down. I knew you would say that. But I trusted Nick because he is Santa Claus. He told me I could trust him. Sure you can, Tartaglia. But what happened to Santa Claus? He's not around. That's right. There ain't no Santa Claus, like I've been saying. They told me you were saying that. What happened to him, Tartaglia? Well, Danny, whilst I was up in the tree pinning the star, below me I saw a big black bulletproof sedan. What kind? A big black bulletproof sedan. No, I know. Then what happened? Well, this big black bulletproof sedan stopped by Nick, our Santa Claus. Two men got out, talked him for a minute, then took them, one by each arm, deposited them in the car, closed the door, and away they spent careening on two wheels. I yelled at them to stop Danny. But I guess they didn't hear me on a kind of the hustle and bustle. Our Santa Claus, Tartaglia. Where is he? Where'd he go? Well, if I was Santa Claus, I know where I'd go. Not that it matters, but where? Well, to my mother. On Christmas Eve she deserves something like that. I'm sure she does. Well, we have you now, Sergeant Tartaglia. Oh, make good in the newsreels, Tartaglia. This may be your big chance. Yeah? How are you, Mrs. Norman? Hi. I'm Danny Clover. Yeah? May I come in, Mrs. Norman? Why? I want to talk to you. About what? About Nick, about your son. Come in. Thanks. In here in the parlor. Sit down. Thank you. No, not on that seat, that one. What do you want to talk about, about Nick? Do you know where he is? One day when he was nine years old, Nick said to me, he said, Ma, don't ask me where I've been no more, cause I'll lie to you. That's what he said. Then you don't know where he is. Don't make me go through that again, sonny. So who are you to ask me questions? I told you I was. Yeah, yeah, you did. You said just Danny Clover. That don't mean nothing to me. You must be the guy come about. Uh-huh, I am. That's why I came. Well, you tell me what you come here for. For, you know, just as you said. Oh, this I like. This lets me play cagey like in the old days. What are you talking about? You know your son, Nick. You got to squirm more than that, kiddo. What about Nick? We want him to be our Santa Claus. Bingo. That's good. Oh, it must be a good feeling a young man like you. Big, strong, looking for Santa Claus. Me? I just sat here in my rocking chair. Mrs. Norman. Thinking about the times we had. Me and Big Ad, my husband. The time... I have to go now, Mrs. Norman. Where's your son? Oh, you made me go through it again. One day when he was nine years old, Nick said to me. Yeah, well, thanks, Mrs. Norman. Ma, don't ask me where... Hi, Danny. Did you find Santa Claus? No, uh-uh, Tartag there. What are you doing about it? Me? Nothing. That's good. Anyone to see me? Yeah, in your office. Hey, Danny, Danny. Well, what are you angry at me for? Hey, Danny, what's this I hear about Sandy Claus taking a powder? You'll get your Santa Claus, Marty. You still here, Simon Larrabee? Yes, yes, yes. I'm waiting just as I told you. I'm waiting for my 750 rent. Can you imagine this gone off, Danny? On Christmas Eve, he wants his rent. This is a Christmas, no Sandy Claus, no party. What am I gonna tell my constituents? It'll work out, Marty. We'll get the money someplace. I eat o'clock, Mr. Harvey. Oh, shut up, Simon. But, Danny, no Sandy Claus. Hold it. Hold it, everybody. I got the solution. Communications. This is Sergeant Tartagli and Danny Clover's office. An all-points bulletin. Pickup man. Description as follows. Height, 5 feet 11. Weight, 235. When last seen was wearing a red suit, a red hat with bells and black boots, identifying marks as a long, snow-white beard. What's his name? Sandy Claus. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, starring Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover. $51,000 in cash and wonderful prizes. Danny Seymour might play Santa Claus to you tonight, and he might fill up your stockings with that 51 grand if you can identify the phantom voice. Listen in just a little later tonight to sing it again. Broadway brings you Christmas in a lot of ways. You get dribbled around by the opposing teams of last-minute shoppers. You ride backwards on up escalators so you can be in a good position for the down escalators. You get mauled and shoved and picked over, and finally you get gift-wrapped and sent on your way. My way was out to lunch and back to police headquarters, holding my Christmas stocking in my hand. I had two things, no rent and no Santa Claus, two nothings which made for an empty holiday. Sergeant Tataglia wasn't enjoying himself either, and he expressed himself with sentiment. Bah, humbug. What did you say, Tataglia? Bah, humbug, Danny. That's a Christmas expression I picked up to be used when you wished it was the 4th of July instead. Yeah, me too. Yeah, you seen the afternoon papers, Danny? Yeah, take a look at it. Now, you look at it for me. What does it say? Well, first it has got a picture on the front page of a tree. In the tree is me. Then it says under it, it says, Officer Gino Tataglia. Yeah, hey, Danny, they spelled it right. Well, Officer Tataglia spent the afternoon cavorting in a tree to the delight and applause of all the little... Now, it runs out like that. Forget it, it wasn't your fault. Then that's what I tried to tell Mrs. Tataglia. Doesn't she believe you? Danny, she called me on the phone. I said, hello? She said, signal Tarzan. Then she started laughing, hysterical. I can't get her to talk. Every time I pick up my phone, all I hear is Mrs. Tataglia laughing. I got my problems too. This is probably the first time in the history of Santa Claus that he's ever heisted from his appointed rounds. Maybe. Hey, did you get in touch with Nick's mother again, like I told you? Oh, Danny, she ain't nowhere to be found. The old day must have skipped, and the 200 Santa Claus is that the boys investigated. Not one of these is Nick Norman under the beard. I'll get it, Danny. Thanks. Sergeant Tataglia... Huh? Yeah, he's here. It's for you, Danny. Thank you. Danny Clover speaking. Danny? Yeah, how are you, Maxie? I'm in Lingerie, Danny. Come on down. What? I'm in the Lingerie department at Fletcher's department. News about Nick Norman. You interested, Danny? Yeah, yeah, I am. Hold on to everything, Maxie. I'll be right down. To that girl over there. She'll gift wrap it up. Hi, Danny. How am I doing? Great, Maxie. Holy great. How long have you been working here? Only for the Christmas season, Danny. But the way I've been operating, I think maybe they'll keep me on. No questions about your background? You mean about me being a shoplifter? Uh-huh. That's the reason I got the job. The way I was lifting things, I told them it'd be cheaper for them if they put me on the sales force. So they did. So for 22 bucks a week, I'm an honest mouse. Anyway, it's steady. Keep it that way, huh, Maxie? Anything you say, Danny. Well, now that we've had our tea, I guess you want to know about Nick. Yeah. Breaks my heart to be a stoolie. You know how it is, Danny. Me, with my former alliances. But it's different now. Yeah, different. I want it to be different for Tussie, too. You remember how it was between me and Tussie? How was it? It was gorgeous. That's why I'm being a pigeon, Danny. If Nick made up his mind to be a kosher citizen, he should stick to it. Not fall back into the arms of a mob like a doll who says mama. Which mob, Maxie? Tussie Kahn's. Such a name for a gorilla. Tussie. How do you figure a name like that? I don't know him. Where do I find him? Tussie just got back from Chicago. He bought the Domino Club. I happened to be passing there on my lunch hour, and I saw Nick in a Santa Claus suit drinking grape juice with Tussie. Oh, excuse me, Danny, a customer. Yes, madam. Something for yourself. Thanks, Maxie. For what? We have some gorgeous outside girdles, madam, for everyday wear. They're right over here. The Domino Club in the West 50s is a bright and shiny joint plastered with black glass. It stands close to the ground between two peeling brown stones. When you walk into it, you have the feeling you're walking into the mouth of a beetle. Its walls are lined with black mirrors, and its ceiling is draped with folds of scarlet silk. And at six o'clock of a Christmas Eve, the boys, complete with Christmas-wrapped girls, are beginning to gather. You ask a busboy in white-tine tails where is Tussie Carnes, and he lifts an eyebrow to a guy standing near the bandstand, a guy grinning like an alley cat while a girl pins a sprig of mistletoe to his lapel. You wait till she kisses Tussie. Then Tussie kisses her, but his eyes are open and flicking around the joint, so he sees you and pushes the girl away. He beat it, Blitz, and I got company. Merry Christmas, stranger. You want something from Tussie Boy? Same to you, and I want Nick Norman. That's a big desire on a holiday. Why you want Nick? Tell Tussie Boy. Maybe I gotta explain. I'm Danny Clover, a cop. I want him. Don't everybody? Come with me, sonny. Santa's right down at the end of this hallway. Merry Christmas, Melvin. Ain't it, though, Tussie? Merry Christmas, George. Likewise, I'm sure. I brought you present, boys. Goodie. Likewise. Where's Nick Norman? This fella here, he says to Tussie Boy he wants Nick Norman, our Santa Claus. Uh-uh. What big eyes you had, mister. And you know something else that's plain precious, boys? No. Do tell us, Tussie. The fella says he is a cop. Isn't that cute, huh? I could die. Yeah. So show the fella Santa Claus, huh, fellas? Merry Christmas, Danny Clover. Oh, Tussie Boy said that, didn't he? Stay away from me. But first we want to wish you on a star like this. You two crazy. Stay away from me. I think that was not enough stars. I'll give him another package. You know that Tussie's good, thus. He gave us the best Christmas present two fellas could ever have. Don't be greedy, Melvin. Leave some for me. Oh, look at that. It's all gone. Come on, Danny, open your eyes. What? Yeah, open your eyes, Danny. It's getting late, ain't you heard? Christmas is coming. Hey, it's you, Nick Norman. Oh, Danny, call me Santa Claus. That's the nicest alias I got. Now look, Nick, I'm going to... Oh, hey, I'll help you up, Danny. Send him the edge of the sofa there. Yeah. Santa Claus, Danny. Santa Claus, huh? So help me, Nick, where I'm going to put you. You'll spend the next 94 Christmases in solitary. Take it easy, Danny. Come on, let's get out of here. I'll be late for that kids' party. Come on. Look, you mean let's get out of here just like that? I don't have to beat my way out of here? Before. What's all this about, Nick, uh, Santa Claus? You're an adult today, Danny. What's the matter with you? But you were kidnapped. Kidnapped? Me? I would want to do a thing like not to jolly old me. A man in a tree said two guys pushed you into a car. They only had a bird's eye view, but he said kidnapped. You mean Melvin and George? I mean Melvin and George. Two pals from Chicago, Danny. They heard I was out and wanted I should be Santa Claus to a private party they was given. That's all harmless guys, pals, buddies. We enjoy each other. Yeah, they enjoyed me, too. Before they left town for this party, they said to tell you... Oh, wait a minute. I wrote it down. Dear Danny Clover, sorry we made a mistake and beat up your head. Made a bells ring a joyous Noel for you. Signed XX. That's Melvin and George. A mistake, huh? Sure. They knew some mob or other might try to get me a Santa Claus. They figured you was a mob, so they protected me from you like you was fibbing about being a cop. After they walloped you unconscious, they went through your pockets and saw you was really a cop. So they wrote this note. The running ink you see here on the note, Danny, that's tears. You'll forgive them, won't you, Danny? Yeah. How about your mother? Well, that was your error, Danny. You didn't tell mom you was from the police, so she thought just like Melvin and George. Gave me the double talker. Yeah, that's my mom. A grand old dame. You know what I told her once when I was nine years old? Yeah, you know, my sleigh's outside. I'll give you a ride back to my office. Well, that means the whole thing was an error in identification and motive, as they say, huh, Danny? That's right. Isn't that right, Santa? Sure. I'll tell it to you again if you want. Then I'll never mind. What happened to Simon Laraby? Oh, he went out for a feast of spud nuts and coffee. Hey, you don't look very happy, Tartaglia. Uh-uh. No, Danny. I ain't happy. Unhappy. Very. What's the matter? We've got Santa Claus? Come on, smile. It's going to be a fine Christmas. I can't, Danny. I just can't. It's Mrs. Tartaglia. Yeah, now she ain't laughing anymore. The neighbors are laughing and Mrs. Tartaglia is crying. Why? Well, the later editions in the paper said that that Sandy Claus was heist and it was because I was in a tree. Yeah, the papers say I single-handed messed up Christmas. Bad as that, huh? Well, I'll tell you Tartaglia. Hey, what about my Christmas party? Oh! Well, not yet, Santa. Way to get to the party. Say, the press was saying that you were snatched, Sandy. What gives? It said that mobsters grabbed you. Just a little misunderstanding. That's right, Marty. Nick was grabbed by mobsters. Yeah, well, then how'd you get away? Sergeant Tartaglia. Yeah? Uh-huh. Sergeant Tartaglia. The kind of policeman who tracks down criminals to the lair. I am Danny. The kind that single-handed, rescued Santa Claus from the jaws of disaster. This guy did that? Yep. I'm just about to call the press boys and tell them about it. Oh, Danny. I mean it, Tartaglia. Don't be so modest. I'm going to do just that. Danny. Put Marty in a cab to Tartaglia. I'll send Santa down to squad car in a little while. Yeah, sure. Well, come on, little tight. I mean, uh, Marty. Okay. Merry Christmas, Danny. Whatever you tell the press guys, Danny, I'll swear to it. Sure. Sure you will. Now, it's a fine Christmas you're giving everybody, Danny. How about yourself? Well, I'll have fun at the party. I always do. Where is it? Where's my money? Oh, look, Mr. Larabee, it's Christmas. It's Christmas. That's why I want my rent, so I can have a merry Christmas. Hey, Danny, who was this guy that needs rent to have a merry Christmas? This is Simon Larabee. He wants the years rent in advance for that warehouse where the kids are having a party. Or else, no party. Yes, that's who I am. Oh, like that, huh? So that's how you are, huh, Simon? Stop breathing in my face, Anna Claus. All them kids wanting to have a party and a Simon like you wants to louse it up. I'll put him down, Nick. I do, not the Danny. Just holding Simon up so I can breathe in his face. Please, please. I want you to think about something, Simon. Think about all those kids that are looking forward to their Christmas party, which ain't going to happen in a count of you. Think about... It's all right. I'm thinking, I'm thinking. Yes, I'm thinking. Maybe you could think better with a pen in your hand, Simon. Yes, better. A pen that will write out a receipt for years rent in advance, huh, Simon? Of course, of course, of course. Oh, Christmas spirit and all that. Yes, I'll get my receipt, both of them. Ah, oh, hey. Oh, well, I haven't felt so good in years. Ah, yes, here you are, Mr. Glover. A receipt for a year's rent in advance. And tell the darlings, Merry Christmas with us. Yeah, yeah, I will. Ain't he a nice fellow, Danny? Come on, nice fellow, I'll take you to a party. Merry Christmas, Danny. It's a merry, merry, merry Christmas, Danny. Merry Christmas. Yeah. Merry Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Broadway is almost like any other place in the world. The bells ring out, the horns blow. There's laughter. The masters on the trans-lux spell out slowly, word by word. Peace on earth. Goodwill to men. And you read it, you believe it. Because on Christmas Eve, you believe a miracle. Then a whirl of confetti is in your eyes and you're pushed along with the crowd and you never see the next news bulletin'. You don't try to look back. It's Broadway. The merriest. The shiniest. Lonesome as a mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover and is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. The musical score was composed by Alexander Courage and conducted by Wilbur Hatch and the program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. The cast tonight included Charles Calvert, Gil Stratton Jr., Howard McNeer, Hal March, Bert Holland, Shep Menken, Estelle Dodge, and Peggy Weber. On Christmas afternoon, Jack Benny will be heard as guest star in a full one-hour version of the comedy The Man Who Came to Dinner. Charles Boyer, Gregory Peck, Michael and Russell Dorothy McGuire, Henry Fonda, John Garfield, and Gene Kelly will be starring alongside Jack in this special holiday hour. Then an hour later, Jack will be back with his own Sunday Night Gang for 30 more minutes of holiday hilarity. In fact, the best idea really is stay tuned to CBS All Day Christmas Day. Now stay tuned for Sing It Again, which follows immediately on most of these same CBS stations. Joe Walter speaking, you'll find Broadway is my beat every Saturday night, the Columbia Broadcasting System.