 Family Theater presents Gale Storm and Michael O'Shea. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network in Cooperation with Family Theater presents Hackey, starring Michael O'Shea. And here is your hostess, Gale Storm. Thank you, Tony LaFranco. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, Hackey, starring Michael O'Shea as Hank. Taxi, taxi mister. Yes, yes. Where to? Madison Square Garden. Right. Madison Square Garden. With my last fare was the Bronx. The next one might take me out to Sheepshead, I never know. Driving a hack is like that, full of little surprises. One thing though, it ain't boring. With all the different people climbing it out of my heap, how could it be? Jane Driver. Yeah. Traffic always this heavy around the garden on a fight night? It is when there's a tidal bout. You want out at the main entrance, mister? Yes. No, this will be the first time I've ever been to Madison Square Garden. Oh, it's a great place. You're gonna see some scrap tonight, too. Who do you think will win? Well, I'm no gambling man, but if I was, I'd say, uh... Crusary by a knockout. Oh, you think the champ is gonna be knocked out? Well, they all have to go sometime, and Crusary looks like he's ready. What do you mean they all have to go? What about Billy Reardon? No one ever took him. He finally had to vacate the tidal. Uh, there's a lot about Reardon. Never made the record book, mister. Okay, here you are. Oh, good. How much do I owe you? $1.35. Uh-huh. There you go. Keep the change. Oh, thanks. Well, I hope you're back the winner. Here, I got the door. Yeah. Uh, say, that thing you said about the record books about Reardon, was there a time he got licked? No. No, I was just talking through my hat. He was a real great fighter. Oh, yes, the greatest. Well, thanks again, driver. Yeah, so long. I swung my heap out into traffic and started uptown. Billy Reardon. I hadn't thought about Billy Reardon for five years. He held a middleweight crown back then, and a great fighter. And I never think of Billy that I don't remember Sweet Larkin. You wouldn't recall a sweet. Not that he goes back so far. He just wasn't a very memorable guy. But he was a fighter, too. That I got to know while I was hanging around Traffton's gym right after the war. I just started hacking then, and one rainy night, I picked a sweet and his wife up outside in one of those two-bit arenas over in Brooklyn. He'd fought there in a semi-windup that night, and he really got belted. Sir? Yes, ma'am. Can you help me with them? Oh, sure. It's not feeling so good. Oh, that's all right. We'll take care of them. You want to get in first, and then I'll kind of ease them in after you, huh? I'm all right. I'm all right. Yeah, sure, yeah. We're just going to take you home, Sweet. Do you know my husband? Oh, sure, Mrs. Larkin. I'm a kind of a fight fan. You don't have to help me walk. I can walk. Who's this? It's me, Sweet, Hank Robler. Hank? Oh, the hacky, huh? Yeah, yeah. Come on, honey. Let's get in the cab. It's raining. I know what it's doing. Say, how about I take you somewhere for a cup of coffee first, Sweet? I have my coffee this morning. Let's all go out and get a sandwich, huh? Honey, it's getting late. You know, I could have taken that guy tonight, baby. You know that, don't you? Don't you, Gina? Oh, Hank, drive us home, will you, please? That was the first time I ever saw the Sweet like that. Punchy. The talk around Trafftons was that a few years back, he looked like a comer, but he just never arrived. Combination of bad luck and bad handling, it's kind of hard to tell about those things. Sweet lived in a third-floor walk-up down on West 10th Street. He passed out by the time he got there, and I had to help his wife, Gina, get him upstairs. Okay, champ. Here we go. You bet your life, I'm a champ. I'm gonna beat the pants off that punk ridden, you hear me? Sure. Clear as a bell, champ. Beat the pants off, and he's no champ. Do you think you can get him into the bedroom, Hank? Yeah, sure. Say, it looks like someone shoved some mail into your door there. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'll get it, thanks. Okay, sweet, what do you say? Let's go nighty-night, huh? I got me fighting a lot of tankers, that's what, when I ought to get a crack at the title. Yeah, yeah, it's a tough life. The ridden's no champ. Takes a good punch, but he's no champ. That's right. Okay, swing around a little. That's it. Now, just sit down on the edge of the bed, huh? Takes a good punch, but I could beat the pants off him. Go to sleep, sweet. Uh... Night, Mommy. Good night, honey. I think you'd be all right now. I don't know what's going to happen to him. He's a good fighter. He used to be. Sure, sure, it's just a break, you know? Well, you have some coffee. I got a pot on the stove. Why, thanks. Yeah, I'd like some. It'll just take a minute. Oh, there's no rush. There's not much business on the street at this hour. Give me a chance, it's right out me feet. That letter you saw under the door, it's from sweet's mother. She writes every week, trying to get him to give up fighting and come home. No, where's home? Wisconsin. They got a farm right outside Racine, dairy farm. He was brought up there. I've seen pictures of the place. Well, he'll go back. He can't go on fighting forever. No, you don't know sweet. He thinks he can win the title. Well, that's a pretty big jump from where he is right now. He's almost 30, isn't he? 31. He can't take it much longer. I don't want him to wind up on that farm just from now, shot the pieces, and that's the way it'll end up. It doesn't get out pretty soon. Yeah. I wish I could think of some way to help you out. You know everybody likes the sweet. He's a real good guy. Driving home that night, I thought about sweet, about his mother's farm and his nice wife. Talk about chasing a rainbow. Sweet had about as much chance for a crack at the title as my uncle Phil. Oh, now, there's a guy for you. Uncle Phil. I live with him. My mother's brother. We live over his delicatessen. And sure enough, when I let myself into the shop about 2.30 that a.m. and take a peek into the cooler to look over the sandwich meat, he saw me like a veritable tiger. Henry, what are you taking? Some cheese, Uncle Phil. Go to bed. You and the fortune tonight, I'm sure, racing like a maniac. I'm made out. Want a sandwich? A genial host. He offers me my own food. Well, do you? A sandwich at 3 in the morning. What is this, the statler? I got news for you. This is not the statler. Cheese? No, where you been? Driving around? 90 miles an hour. You kill anyone tonight? Oh, just a couple of strangers. Go to bed. Yeah, Uncle Phil, it's late. I'm watching the boiled ham. Where you been? Driving for a week. I picked up Sweetlock and over the fights. You and your boxing boyfriends. I get clobbered again, Uncle Phil, at Stray in a row. What kind of a life do you call that? A megabot. Oh, but Sweet's got a place to go to. Farm in Wisconsin. Why doesn't he go? Cut me a small slice of the ham. Because he wants to be the champ. Champ, a fine career for a man knocking people down. That's the same line you're in. Yeah, but he don't get paid by the mile. Is that enough? Too much. Look, look, Henry, I appeal to your instincts of self-preservation. It's no crazier being a prize fighter than a hacky. Oh, Uncle Phil, come on, we've been all over those. So Larkin has a farm waiting so you have the shop? Uncle Phil. I'm not going to live forever. Who takes this place, then? Look at the inventory. Look at the refrigeration. Uncle Phil, listen. Look, I love you. You've been good to me. But I'm not right for a delicatessen. I'd go nuts around here. You go nuts in traffic. I've seen you drive. What is a hack that you like so much about it? People yelling, horns blowing, your head off? It's exciting. I like it. I don't know. It's nothing like this. What's the difference between you and that sweet Larkin? You have something good and safe waiting. A whole life of construction and you run from it. This I can't see. I guess Swedes got something else he wants more. The title. The title. To me, he's already got a title. Doomcop. Uncle Phil, no kidding. You're a real rough customer. No more ham, Henry. It's just the scraps. All right, all right. So cut for me another scrap, too. I'm driving nights then, so I didn't get into Traffton's Gym for a couple of days and I'd just about forgotten a sweeten his wife and the farm that was waiting for him. When I happened to pick up Pachy Samatini over on Tide Avenue. Pachy's a trainer now, but 25 years ago, he was one of the best lightweights in a game. Tell you, Hank, this ain't the business it used to be. What's the matter, Pachy? Haven't you got a boy in a car tonight? Sure I got a boy but he can't hit one hand with the other. You know what I mean? Oh, a lightweight. Only between the years. He weighs in at 161, he's dropped his last three starts. Say, your boy wouldn't be Sweet Larkin. Yeah, what about it? Well, Sweet fought last Monday over in Brooklyn less than a week ago. He's the kind of soon for him to be going again. That's his idea. I get it he wants to show Mrs. Larkin what a scrapper he is. You know what I mean? You mean Gina, his wife? Nah, his mother. She's from Wetzkonston and the sweeten wants her to see him go. Well, I don't get it. His mother's supposed to hate price fights. Well, she ain't going to have much of it to watch tonight. Sweet's on the card for fixed rounds with Mugga O'Dell. Oh, murder, that ain't good. That Mugga can really go. Nah, by me it's a bad match. But what can you do? Say, listen Pachy, could you get me in there tonight? Into the fight? Sure. Well, how about the Sweet's locker room? Could you get me in that far? I think so. After all, I've been training him. I ought to have something to say in the matter. You know what I mean? We parked my hack in the gas station over near the garden and I followed Pachy in through to fight his entrance and down a long basement corridor to the Sweet's locker room. Just as we got there, the door opened and Sweet's wife, Gina, stepped out. Pachy. Hello, Miss Larkin. You know my friend, Hank Robler? Oh, sure, how are you, Hank? Hi, Gina. You non-professionals better give me a clear feel in the locker room with the Sweet. The semi-wine-up's almost over. Sure, he's inside lying down, Pachy. He's already. He says he feels fine. You'll get yourself a soft drink and watch the fight from the stands. We'll be going right out. All right. Pachy just told me about Sweet's mother being in town. Yeah, she's a fine lady. I wish she hadn't come. Oh, why not? It might get him out of here. Oh, I don't know. He's practically sold her that he's a great fighter. That's why he's boxing Odell tonight to show her he deserves a chance at the title. Hmm. And she's gonna stay around until he gets it. It depends on the night. I made Sweet promise he'll go back to Wisconsin if he loses. I think he can start packing. Really? Yeah, Gina, the mugger's fresh. He hasn't fought for a month. I hate to say it, but I think he's better than a Sweet, too. It's disloyal, I guess, but I hope you're all right. Say, by the way, where's she at, his mother? Up in the stands. Hey, sounds like the end of the bout. Why don't you go on up there? I'll bring you a boat of root beer, huh? Oh, thanks, Hank, but I don't want to see the fight. I'm sick of watching him get beaten up. Hmm. Well, you want me to take you back to the locker room? Sweet's probably up in a ring by now. Yeah, all right. You know, it's funny. Huh? Losing this fight will be the best thing that ever happened to Sweet. Yeah, yeah. Except that it'll break his heart. Now you gotta stop worrying, Gina. It's, it is... Hey. Hmm? Look who's walking around a garden without his gloves on. Oh, who do you mean? Billy Ridden. The guy in a polo coat. Hey, Champ, what are you saying? Man, how's it going? Oh, hello, Hackey. How's business? Hey, good, good, Billy. Hey, Billy, I'd like you to meet Sweet Larkin's wife, Gina. This here's Billy Ridden. Middleweight champion of the world. How you doing? Oh, I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Ridden. Oh, pleasure's all mine, I'm sure. Sweet's wife, huh? That's right. He's fighting here tonight. Yeah, I know. He's in the ring right now. I'll come you up in the stands, watch. Well, we were just on our way. Hey, holy smoke, listen to the crowd. Must have been a knockdown. Hey, let's get up the ramp, then. Yeah, everybody's standing up it. Hey, it's O'Dell. It's O'Dell who's down. Sweet knocked him down. Oh, down and out, looks to me. O'Dell, are you moving? The count's up to four. Oh, I can't believe it. Five. I can't believe it. Six. He must have hit him with a lever. I can't believe it. Look at that. Nine. Oh, no, look at that. Ten. He's down. Sweet knocked him out. Oh, you must have been some punch. Oh, I must have been some punch. I want to tell you, I think that was the second craziest not ever spent me her life. Well, after a fight like this, there has to be a celebration. So I called up my Uncle Phil and told him to break out the ham and cheese. Sweet's mother was so excited she had to go home and take a sedative. But to Sweet and Gina, even Paki came along. It was quite a bash for something held up over a delicatessen. Come on. Who's for more salami? Mrs. Lakin? Oh, no, Uncle Phil, thanks. Don't call me Gina. Gina, that's her lovely Italian name. I went with an Italian girl once with the name Marie. Oh? Hey, Uncle Phil, we're out of ham again. To whom I should have married and left this delicatessen. Hey, you want me to get downstairs and cut some ham? I'll cut. You slice ham like it was lamb chops. Excuse me, Gina. Oh, sure. Hey, hey, give me that, Gina. I'll put some ice in it. Oh, thanks. If Sweet's still out in the kitchen, will you ask him to come in, hey? Yeah, you bet. Wait, face the facts. Face facts. I hate Odell Harden. He's ever been hit. That's fact number one. Yeah, but Odell ain't ridden. Besides which, it was a lucky punch. Lucky punch? Ain't she got eyes in your head? Hey, hey, hey, Paki. Sweet, come on. This is no time for a brand-nicking. We're having a party, hey? There's no talking to this guy. Hank, all I keep telling the sweet is that one hard fight don't put you out for a crack for the crown. I got liquor in it. I'd fight him for nothing just to show you. But I'm saying you haven't got a chance for the bout. Now go back to Wisconsin and put the thought out of your mind. Say, uh, say, Sweet, Gina was asking for you out in the living room. Okay. Now stick around, Paki. I want to talk some more about this. I'll be here. I'll be here. Uh, Paki? Yeah, Hank? Hey, something a sweet just said gave me a crazy idea. That guy's got derisions of grandeur. Yeah, but now look, he said he'd be willing to fight Reardon for nothing, didn't he? Just to prove he could lick him. What's the connective? What are you getting at? Well, you know Reardon pretty good, don't you? Hey, now wait a minute. Let me finish. The answer is no. No. You know what I mean? No. Well, you let me finish. You don't even know what I'm going to tell you. So I said what I was going to say, and after a lot of head shaking, Paki finally decided to give it a try. Next morning I picked him up at my heap and drove out to Billy Reardon's house in Queens. Paki explained the idea to Billy, the three of us sitting around his kitchen table, and then we sat back, not knowing whether he'd laugh his head off or show us out through the back door. Well, guys, you wouldn't be trying to pull a funny on me, would you? Didn't I tell you Hank, it was a waste of time? No. No, I ain't said no yet. Now I'm just wanting to find out, is this on a level? This is on a level, Billy. Yeah. You want me to fight a private bout with the suite? And but private. Just the participators and the second. Plus Swedes wife and his mother. Yeah. They got to see it or the gag isn't worth anything. Yeah. And I'm supposed to take a fall so the suite can leave happy for Wisconsin thinking they really care. Yeah. Bill, I know it sounds kind of nut house, but, well, they'd never get him back to that farm any other way. Not until he's so punch strong it's too late, Bill. Yeah, yeah. Now you see, I'd be willing to box with this suite. Sure. Carry him for the five rounds or something. Make him look good, you know what I mean? I don't like taking a fall, even for a gag. Might get out. It won't, Billy. That I can guarantee. Because I'll tell the suite if it does that we'll lawsuit him and his mother out of farm and barn. You know what I mean? I really don't think you got anything to worry about there, Billy. The suite just wants to prove to himself that he can lick you. If he thinks he's done it, then he'll go quiet like, you know? Yeah. Yeah. All right. All right. When do you want to do it? Billy, you're a great man. You understand I'll have to clear this with my manager first, you know? Sure. You name the place and the time and we'll have the suite ready to go. This is real big of you, Bill. I hope you know how much we appreciate it. Oh, go on. I think I know how the suite feels, you know? Besides, he's a nice guy. All the rest of that week, the suite trained his head off. First, he couldn't believe it was true that Reardon was really going to give him a fight. But then Billy talked to him personally on the phone and, well, he went back to work like a madman. Everything was on a QT, of course, and Sweet had promised on his honor, win, lose, or draw that he'd leave for Wisconsin a day after the fight. So when the big night finally arrived, Uncle Phil and I drove out to the little gymnasium in Corona that was supposed to be close for the season. Uncle Phil had got wind of things from Sweet's mother and to keep peace, I had Reardon's manager OK bringing him along. Yeah, a fine thing, sneak fighting. Why can't they hit each other in public? I already told you 20 times, Uncle Phil, because it's unofficial and Reardon don't want no publicity. Maybe your Mr. Champion Reardon is afraid Sweet can beat him down and that's why he shouldn't be in the papers? Look, I don't know what he thinks, Uncle Phil. I'm just telling you what he said. That's why you gotta promise not to talk about this. Who's talking? I'm just making conversation. Well, here we are. Here? On this dark street, these are all stores. They're going to price-fight in a shoe shop? Upstairs. Upstairs in the gym, come on. Well, go ahead. In through a dark door, up black steps. Yeah, you should have brought your cloak and dagger. Keep going, it's only another half a flight. Well, at least there's a light on the landing. Can you see all right? Yeah, what's to see? A locked door. Who is it? Me, Pucky. Hank. Oh, come on in. They're all set to go. We almost started without you. Uncle Phil, you want to go over and sit with Gina and Mrs. Larkin? A pleasure. And don't make a nuisance of yourself now, Henry. All right, I'll try. It's all fixed, Hank. How do you mean? The way Billy's going to take this fall. I tell Sweet to try for a KO as soon as he comes out of his corner in the third. Billy's going to roll with it and go down. You think the sweet will catch wise? Nah, Billy's been training how to take that punch all week. Ready to start, if you are. Come on, let's get over to the sweet's corner. Hey, Gina looks kind of nervous. Why shouldn't she? She knows the sweet's got no business fighting a champ like Ribbon. Well, I wish we'd have let her in on it. Too late now. They're all set to go. All your corners and come out fighting and make the best man win. Here it is, now. Hi, Hank. Glad you couldn't make it. Hey, good luck, Sweet. I'm rooting for you. I'll murder him. You watch. Sweet and Billy came out of their corners like two guys walking through a minefield. They shuffled around, touched gloves a couple of times, looking each other over. Sweet shot a right to Reardon's chin and the champ blocked it like it was nothing. Then Billy drove a low one into the sweet's bread basket and tied him up over in the far corner. It went on like that for the next three minutes. Punch, block, counter punch. Hardly any damage done on either side. And all the time, over the whole place, a hush like you never heard in a church. Just the hard breathing of the two fighters and the sound of their gloves slapping off one another. Even when the round was over, nobody clapped or yelled, did nothing. Billy and Sweet just turned and walked back to their corners. You're doing great, Sweet. You're doing great. Yeah. Now feel him out for another round. Look him over, kid. I'd like to go after him now. Do what I tell you. Feel him out. Save the fireworks for the third. Keep him guessing, kid. Both men came out slow again, circling around, sparring a little bit. Sweet took a fast ride on the shoulder from Billy and chopped back with a short hook to the champ's midriff. They clinched and broke away quick jabbing at one another. Sweet uncorked the bolo and reared and blocked it and tied him up at another clinch. And then it happened. No one heard what Sweet whispered to Billy while they were in the clinch. But all of a sudden, the champ pushed away and dropped his hands. What are you talking about, Sweet? You know what I'm talking about. I'm not kidding either. I'll do it, Billy. All right, you pig-headed stumble bump. Put up your dukes. And with that, the fight really started. Reardon lashed an uppercut to the Sweet's jaw that almost sent him down. Sweet came back with a straight right to the champ's head and then another. And a left to the body. Everyone in the place was on his feet yelling at Billy to stop. Pacqui would have climbed into the ring if I hadn't grabbed him. But there wasn't going to be any stop in these two guys. Reardon's manager ran around to where the timekeeper was sitting and started yanking the bell. But Billy and the Sweet didn't even slow up. They just stood there in the center of the ring, slugging like a couple of lumberjacks. Once the champ slipped down to one knee. And then when he got up, his eyes were glassy. But he came back with a left that almost took the Sweet's head off. Back and forth they went like that. I don't know how long it lasted. Maybe not more than two minutes. Then almost so fast you couldn't see it. The Sweet went down like he'd have been poleaxed. Down and out, cholera, New Year's Eve. How do you word you are, Reardon? What do you mean, Sir Hugh? What he said to me, Pacqui? He was going to the commissioner. What are you talking about? He's going to be all right, Gina. He's coming around. I had to fight him, Pacqui. I had to. He made me. He told right, Mrs. Lockett. His eyes are open. Uh, where's Billy? He's right here, Sweet. I knock him on, Hank? Well, no, not exactly that, Sweet, and that ain't the way it happened. He knocked you out, honey. Well, someone fell me in. You know what I mean? What's going on? What's this story? I told you, Pacqui. Sweet threatened me. Said he was going to go to the boxing commission. I'm sorry, Billy. I wouldn't have gone, but I wanted you to fight me. I knew it was a syrup. I knew you wouldn't waste really slugging with me, so I had to make you fight. I had to find out. You're crazy, you know it? Did I hurt you? You blame right, you hurt me. I'm making all over. I gotta knock your block off. I got news for you, champ. You just did. And thanks. Well, that's the story I think of anytime Billy Reardon's name comes up. The guy that held the middleweight crown back then. I hear from Gina and the Swede now and again, back in Wisconsin, running a dairy farm. And my Uncle Phil always tells me maybe I should go out and get some sense beaten to me like that. So I'll know enough to come into the delicatessen. Yeah, well, not yet, Uncle Phil. Not as long as I can drive around the big town here and look at the lights and see the people. I guess I just like it. Being a hacky, I mean. This is Gail Storm again and I'd like to ask you a little question. What makes a house a home? Go ahead, try to count the things that make your house home. You might think of the smell of cooking, the colors used in your interior decoration, the lighting of the rooms, the fireplace and even the comfort you find in your favorite chair. But take stock again in a slightly different manner. Try this. Imagine it with only yourself in it. With your imagination, remove the sounds of beloved voices and footsteps. Remove the very consciousness of the presence of your loved ones and try to feel just for an instant that you're completely alone in your house, that there's no one for you to share it with. You see, it's the family, not the house that's important. Love and unity in the family. The warmth and comfort of the family are among the greatest gifts of God. Family prayer is the means through which we ensure these wonderful gifts for ourselves and for our children. Daily family prayer unites the family and the spirit of love while the prayers themselves assure us of God's continued blessings. For as long as you invite God, the creator of family life, to take his rightful place in the circle of your family, your home will never be just a house. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theater has brought you transcribed, Hackey starring Michael O'Shea, Gail Storm was your hostess. Others in our cast were Gene Bates, Larry Dubkin, Herb Butterfield, Frank Gerstle and Joe Forte. The script was written and directed for Family Theater by John T. Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program. By the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of stage screen and radio who give so unselfishly their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when Family Theater will present Something in the Air starring Lucille Ball and John Howard. Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.