 Welcome, Weirdos. I'm Darren Marlar, and this is Retro Radio Sunday on Weird Darkness. Each week I bring you a show from the Golden Age of Radio, but still in the genre of Weird Darkness. I'll have stories of the macabre and horror, mysteries and crime, and even some dark science fiction. If you're new here, welcome to the show, and be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you're already a member of this Weirdo family, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen in with you. Spreading the word about the show helps it to grow. If you're here because you're already a fan of nostalgic audio and print, you'll want to email WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. When you do that, you'll get an instant reply with links to download full-length pulp audiobooks, pulp e-books and old-time radio shows for free. That email address again is WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. Coming up, it's an episode from The Mystery House. Most old-time radio buffs are familiar with the long-running series Inner Sanctum Mysteries, a weekly half-hour suspense anthology broadcast from January 7th, 1941 to October 5th, 1952, and a show that introduced Radio's best-known sound effect, The Creaking Door. During its run, Inner Sanctum had a variety of sponsors – Colgate, Lipton Tea, Bromo Seltzer, Mars Candy – but its main responsibility was to promote Simon & Schuster's line of mystery novels that bore the same name, to Mysteries, though the radio dramas themselves were for the most part original productions. In Mystery House, a little-known radio series on which information remains sketchy, the concept of promoting books remains intact, with a slight twist, as heard on the show's standard opening, Mystery House, that strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication. At the risk of resorting to atrocious puns, this was a rather novel inspiration. The old Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, hey kids, let's put on a show idea applied to the publishing world. Mystery House staffers would perform in each half-hour drama, while others would provide sound effects, rewrite scripts, and so on. But could this really succeed as a business model? Would people buy a mystery book if they already knew the ending? Remember, this was a radio show saying that it was bringing the stories before the books were published. An interesting question considering how little information there is available about the firm, or if in fact this firm even existed. Research into this query turned up an address for Mystery House at 70 Park Avenue in New York City, where a hotel now stands, and the publishing firm ceased operations sometime after 1964. As for the broadcast history behind the series, the Shroud of Mystery remains intact. Newspaper archives report a series with that name as having been broadcast in 1929 over WGN in Chicago, and apparently still on the air as late as 1951. The show was broadcast in a variety of formats, sometimes as a weekly half-hour, sometimes as a five-day-a-week quarter-hour show. Mystery House has also been associated with appearances on WOR in New York. Both WOR and WGN were flagship stations of the mutual network at the time. Complicating matters further is the existence of an audition recording, recorded at the NBC studios in July of 1944 for a program also called Mystery House, which was referred to as Bella Legosi's Mystery House, and features the movie's most famous vampire who was slated to have been the host had it been picked up as a regular series alongside another cinematic Dracula, John Caradine, with announcer Ken Carpenter in support. Some radio buffs question whether there was any connection between the NBC audition and the regular series, but it certainly can be said that the presence of both does tend to confuse things. Because newspaper articles have reported that the Mystery House series was a popular program at WGN, stating that live audiences were encouraged to attend the broadcasts, one could assume that the bulk of the shows currently available are from that time period. It's a lively studio audience can clearly be heard during the middle intermission of many of the shows, including tonight's. Furthermore, with the exception of the Legosi audition and the episode Death Passed by My Window, which we'll be listening to tonight, none of the remaining Mystery House programs that are available at RadioArchives.com are in general circulation, which might mean very well that this is one of these programs' first appearances in old-time radio collector's circles, so this should be a real treat, even for those who have been listening to old-time radio for years. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the weird darkness as we present Mystery House from 1946 and the story, Death Passes by My Window. That strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication. Mystery House. Say, Barb, you said the novel we're acting out for Mystery House tonight has a detective who never even sees the scene of the crime. That's technically correct, Dan. At least she never gets on the premises. She? Yes, the girls in Inland. Oh, that sounds impossible. Well, now don't use that word, Mr. Glenn. Nothing's impossible. No, well, I can think of a good many things that nobody's ever been able to do. Well, I can remember when people said it would be impossible to make the radio commercials as interesting as the show itself, but listen to this. Okay, places, everybody, set the scene, will you, Tom? Death. Passed my window. A story about a young girl who lives in that section of an industrial city where the tenements sit in squalid rows, side by side, with only a few feet between. My name is Hope Graves. I've been a hopeless invalid for eight years, ever since the night a hidden run driver struck me down. I lie in my bed now in a dingy room of a crowded, faded tenement. My one window stares at the window in another tenement, almost directly opposite. That window and the girl who lives behind it have become friends of mine. Morning, Hope. How's the back today? Much better, thanks, Jenny. If you were telling the truth, you'd have the finest back in the world. Always better, every morning. Did Eddie bring you home last night, Jenny? Yeah, that's pretty usual. Why don't you bring him up to your room sometime, Jenny, get him in front of your window so I can see him. Hey, not so fast, John. Nice girls don't bring their boyfriends to their room, even when the girl happens to be a nightclub dancer and the boy's a sax player in the dance band. I'll bet he's handsome. No, I wouldn't say he's handsome. But he's kind of a sweet kid. He can sit in a crowded, noisy, smoky nightclub all night long, night after night. And still, that'd be there at all. Know what I mean? Mm-hmm. The way I go sailing out on the lake in a little racing sloop, like I shop the beautiful stars on the avenue. Poor kid. You with your one little window. But I do have one window. You know, Jenny, I sometimes wonder if people realize what wonderful inventions windows are. You silly girl. Well, I got a lot to do this morning. I had a lot of someone's accustomed to the law. Jenny's days and nights are all mixed up, like mine. It isn't really morning, but four o'clock in the afternoon. Being in bed 24 hours of a day, year after year, you forget about day and night. Time is just something to fill best you can. It goes on, on, and on. The hours from ten to three. Those are the hardest. Nothing but blackness outside my window. The complete blackness of night. Sometimes I wish Jenny wasn't a dancer. But then I'd miss the funny little squeak one of the floorboards always makes when she practices her dance steps. Her visits mean so much to me. Morning, hopeful. What you reading? Hi, Jenny. It's a new mystery and a honey. Oh, I'll bet it's good. I'll just bet everything in the whole world is good. Well, what are you so happy about? Take a gander. See? I know it's small, but you can see it from there, can't you? The weight lift. Oh, it's a diamond ring. It wouldn't exactly blind you, but it's real. Eddie? Yeah. We're going to be married. Oh, wonderful. It sounds simply terrific. Oh, he isn't really cute, but he's nice and a square guy. Oh, Jenny, you've got to let me see him. I'll just die if you don't. I'll bring him over to your room some night. Promise? If you promise, hopeful, cross my heart. And hope to die? No, just cross my heart. The way I feel now, I think I'd like to live forever. Days and nights form a pattern, not all alike, but each like some remembered one from the past. One I know I've lived before, and one I'll live again. Ready for me to turn out your light, dear? Yes. Thank you, Mother. I brought you something for tomorrow, honey. Oh, what? It's one of the Flaman stories, the case of the Insulin Thin. I got it from the rental library. Oh, gee. It's a big book. Oh, Mother, you're wonderful. Good night, dear. Night again. The hour's from ten to three. Nothing but black night. What? Light. A light in Jenny's room. She must be opening a wooden box. Maybe it's something she doesn't want me to see. Jenny! Sing it. And I wish she wouldn't. I'll mess it. Why did cigarettes stop being thrown out of the window? And Jenny doesn't smoke. Why didn't Jenny answer me? I guess she brought Eddie up to fix the squeaky board. She didn't want me to know he was there. But I didn't mean to be nosy. She has a right to a little privacy. I just won't say anything to her about it. Hello, Jenny. When are you going to bring Eddie around? Gosh, honey, I've been so dug on busy hours. I see you finally got around to fixing the squeaky board in your floor. You could hear that squeaky board way over your place? Of course. It's lost to fix itself, then. I didn't do anything. Oh. Well, I guess lots of things do fix themselves at that. Hey, where cardin' I said? No harder than usual. But we have a late show tonight. Gotta practice a little. We see you, hopeful. 12 o'clock. And Jenny's light just went on again. Oh, this is wrong. Before the pattern lost its form, it was never like this. Never. It's not right, Eddie. Are you jittery, huh? Your imagination's working overtime. I don't imagine things, Eddie. I wouldn't have to get off early the night and come back here just for imagination. I'm afraid. Oh, Jenny. Eddie, let's get married tonight. Tonight? At this hour? Well, nobody's around. Oh, we could find someone. Well, you and I get married. We'll do it right for keeps. Come here. Oh. I bet it. I guess. Well, I better be going now. I didn't have any right up here. Oh, just a minute before you go. Hope. Hope, you awake? Oh, sure, Jenny. I just woke up. You been home long? No. I took your head over in front of the window, Eddie. Hello. I can't see you, but if you're a friend of Jenny's, I like it. Hello, Eddie. That's Hope Greaves. You know the girl I was telling you about. Glad to know you, Hope. Well, I have to be running along now. Will you do something for me before you go, Eddie? Sure, kid. Anything you say. Well, will you kiss Jenny goodnight in front of the window? Sure. How was that, Hope? Well, it was beautiful. Four o'clock in the afternoon. Time for Jenny to pull up her shade and start her day. That's really nice. It's funny. I've never been jealous of Jenny's dancing feet, but today I am. She has a prince charming, and I'll never have one. I'll go on getting excitement from books, but I'll think of Jenny and her Eddie. I'll think of the misty sparkle in her eyes when Eddie kissed her last night. I'll think of it because it was so wonderful, and because I can't have it ever. Funny that Jenny hasn't raised her window shade yet. Oh, probably dreaming of Eddie, but she should be up now. Jenny? Jenny? Jenny, you lazybones, get up. It's time for you to get up. Oh, Jenny, is something wrong? Answer me, please. I'll try to open up, Miss. You've got your landmany worried. It's Emmett Bryant, Virginia. You know the cop on the corner. Come on now. Open the door like a good girl. Out of the house, ordinarily, she is, but it's time, Officer Bryant. I called and called, and it don't do no good. Virginia, are you opening the door now? Answer me. You got a past key, Mrs. Schultz? No. These doors all got good spring locks, and the key to this one is locked. All right, stand back here, Mrs. Schultz. There's nothing for it but the bust in the door. Wait. The saints have mercy on her soul. Poor little kid, her head all caved in with a hammer. Wait a minute. What's this? Why, it looks like a long, heavy, black-sept necklace. Yeah, but it's got a snap hook on it. No, it ain't a necklace, Mrs. Schultz. What is it then? I think maybe it's something that's going to hang a man. No, Officer Bryant, no. But that thing isn't, and you're wrong. Oh, I am, am I? Oh, yes. Well, what is it then? Well, it's a thing saxophone players wear around their necks to hold their instruments. Yeah, that's what I thought it was. Oh, but it couldn't be, Eddie. It just couldn't be. Oh, Eddie, huh? So Virginia had a boyfriend named Eddie, and he left a saxophone card in her room. You know when he left it? No, I don't. You know his last name. You know where he lives? No. You don't know or you just won't tell me? I said I didn't know. I heard you. But I've been around this neighborhood too long to be fooled all the time. Now, if you do know anything, kid, you should tell it fast. Why? If you know something that had pinned a murder on somebody, that somebody would try another murder to keep me from getting the answer. And you wouldn't be able to defend yourself very well. Is Officer Bryant right? Will the murderer strike again? Act two of death past my window opens at the battered door of the murdered girl's apartment. Somebody is knocking. Jenny, you're late for work. What's the matter, honey? Jenny! Jenny! What? What the devil? A cop. What are you doing here? Where's Jenny? She's down at headquarters, kid. Oh, no. She hasn't done anything. Take me to her right away. It ain't a bad act, kid. You almost convinced me. Almost. What are you talking about? Sit down. I want to see Jenny. She's late for work right now. She ain't going to work, kid, ever. What? What are you trying to say? You already know. I don't know a thing. What torturing me? You've got to tell me. Something's happened. What is it? Well, Virginia's had an accident, Eddie. A bad accident. Her head was all caved in with a hammer early this morning. Oh, no. No, you're lying. No. No. It isn't true. It isn't true. It isn't true. This is death I've met. It passed my window, not 20 feet away. And yet invisible. In detective stories, death is always exciting. This was Jenny, my friend. And it isn't exciting at all. That's horrible. Where were you at four o'clock this morning, Eddie? Hi. I don't know. Did you bring Virginia home? Yes, yes I did. How did you get into her room? I didn't get into her room. Eddie, no. Brian knows you were there. He found your saxophone chord. Hope. Tell him. Tell him I didn't kill Jenny. I've already told him, Eddie. You mean you told me you didn't see him do it? But that doesn't mean he couldn't have. All right, come on, Eddie. Where? Down to the police station. Oh, you're making a mistake, Officer Brian. Don't worry, Eddie. Everything will come out all right. Worry? I'm through worry. There's nothing to worry about or hope for or dream about anymore. And everything won't come out all right. It's no good, kid. Goodbye, Eddie. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Hope. Hope. That's a good one. That is. Brian caught the murderer, huh? Took him to the station. Ah, such goingsum. What are you doing in Jenny's room, Mrs. Schultz? Brian told me I could move her things to the basement storage. Mrs. Schultz, will you call Officer Brian for me? But for. Tell him I want to talk to him that I have some important information. But you have already told him all you know. No. No, there's a great deal more. There is an old proverb, Hope. Murdered though it have no tongue will speak? No. People who look for trouble usually find it. Officer Brian, will you do what I asked then? Well, now that all depends. No, that won't do. You'll have to promise. I'm making no promises. You wouldn't want to convict an innocent man, would you? No. Promise? Eh, all right. It'll involve some irregular procedure, maybe illegal. Here now, that's not fair. You promised. Eh, all right, all right. What is it you want me to do? I want you to go over next door and rip loose one of the moldings on a window in every apartment on the fourth floor except Ginny's. What? Does a Brian go back on his word? Eh, well, I know one thing. After this, one Brian will learn to say no. Did you get them all, Officer Brian? Yeah, fake phone calls to get people out, breaking an entrance, destruction of property, and me a policeman too. Yeah, I got every apartment on the fourth floor. And may Captain O'Hooley Hand ever hear of it. Well, thanks, Brian. Now, all you have to do is wait. Wait? Sit over here in this room all by myself and wait? Wait for what? Just wait. And don't worry about being alone. We can visit. Hey, listen. Some of my destruction's being repaired. Yes. That's apartment 4D, isn't it? Sounds like it. Mr. and Mrs. Gudtowski. He's a section hand, and he's not the one. Not the one? What are you talking about? Never mind. Just wait. Try to have patience. Young lady, did you have me tear loose all those moldings just so you could hear a hammer serenade? Now, that's three been fixed so far, and all you say is, that's not the one. That's not it either. Oh, that's not it either. That's not it either. How long do you expect me to sit in this room listening to people pounding nails? That's four moldings fixed, only two to go. Oh, sure. I rip loose the window moldings and the people fix them. That's supposed to prove that the saxophone player didn't murder the girl. Maybe I'm nuts. That's it. What apartment is it coming from? Four C across the hall. Get him, Brian, quick. Get him before he runs away. He killed Ginny. Now, who's that? Officer Brian, open up. Well, you don't have to be tough about it. What do you want? I want you to step across the hall. The room with a big gut mounted? No thanks, pal, not me. Come on. You step over here by this window, mister. Huh? What floor? Hope. Is this the man? Yes. Yes, it has to be him. Say, what kind of a gig is this? I've never seen a scope before in my life. How about that, Hope? Oh, he's quite right. I've never seen him before either. See, Copper? But he killed Ginny, and I can prove it. Hey, you don't look too healthy, sister. But it's less healthy to make cracks like that if you can't back him up. First, Officer Brian, there's a wide pine floor in that room. Isn't there? I've never seen it. Yeah, that's right. Wide pine. Lie down on the bed, Brian, and then get up. What? Oh, you OK? Your foot, Brian. Keep it right there on the board it touched when you got up. Mark the board with your pencil. What goes, sister? You ain't gonna rope me in on any funny business? Getting interested, mister? Well, it still sounds crazy to me, but I might as well, I guess. Oh, no, you don't. Copper, stay right where you are. Put down that gun, you. You'll get a bullet from it right through your thick head if you make a move. I'll keep your hands in the air while I take your gun. And don't get any ideas. What are you gonna do? First, I'm gonna do what the bright girl suggested. I'm gonna pry up that board. Then I'm gonna nick you enough so you won't follow me. And then take it on the lamp. Money. I've never seen so much money in my life. About 30 grand, Copper. You're a nice, crisp, folding doll. Yeah, but the checks, all them checks, what about them? Ah, don't be dumb all your life, Copper. That's the racket. The checks are hot, lifting out of mailboxes. I got kids shoving hot checks all over town. I rented the room across the hall because I knew the dance it was in home nights when I'd be collecting dough and passing out the stolen check to my shelves. I needed a sure, safe hiding place for the stuff. Yeah, and Virginia was working with you. She didn't even know there was such a guy as me. Until she came home early with Eddie. Yeah, yeah, that's right. She found cigarette ashes on her floor and a ground out stuff right in front of my door. And she was dumb enough to start asking questions. I couldn't have her asking questions. You'll never get away with this, lad. Get back, Copper, I'll shoot. I mean business. Hey, my eyes, my eyes, I can't sleep. Great, you shoot me, will you? Lay off me, Copper. You don't have to be so rough upon it. I'll be rough, all right. I can't see you, Brian. Is everything all right? Yeah, honey. Thanks to your place in that mirror in this guy's eyes, he'd have shot me sure if you hadn't blinded him. I won't forget that either, sister. Ah, well what you remember or forget ain't going to be of much importance, lad. I've got a feeling that you ain't going to be around long. Yes, my name is still Hope Graves. I'm still a bedridden invalid. Yet, somehow, I don't feel at all like the same person who started to tell this story. The pattern has shifted back to its usual form, but for me, things will never be the same. I'll always know it can change, that my routine isn't set in a drab, colorless schedule that will never vary. Life, even for me, can be exciting. Thanks for listening to this week's Retro Radio Sunday episode of Weird Darkness. If you haven't done so yet, be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who also loves old-time radio and pulp audio. If you want to hear even more, drop an email to weirddarknessatradiorchives.com and get an instant reply with links to download full-length pulp audiobooks, pulp e-books and old-time radio shows absolutely free. That's weirddarknessatradiorchives.com. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright, Weird Darkness 2023. I'm Darren Marlar, and I'll see you next week for Weird Darkness's Retro Radio Sunday.