 The National Broadcasting Company presents the Adventures of Sam Spade Detective. Spade Detectivation, sir. Me, sweetheart. What was that last? Nothing. That was my teeth chattering. Oh, is it cold now? Out where I was, Effie, I've been swimming. In December? Oh, Sam, you caught a chill. That's true, Eff. I caught a real Russian chill. They're not keeping San Francisco Bay as well-heated as they might. The Bay? Sam, you were swimming in the- Where else, Eff? Oh, Sam, you've been drinking. Only brine, Angel, and what kelp, you psyched scavenge. Kelp, you- Oh, it was a taxing experience, Eff. A lesser man couldn't have come through it. Lay out some dry clothes for me, mix me a hot grog, get out your pencil, it writes underwater, and prepare to take down a narrative of international intrigue and espionage, which we will call, let's see, the 2-5-1-2-3-5-6-7-9 caper. What? Or the Russian's number is up. NBC invites you to listen to the greatest private detective of them all, as William Spear, Radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and crime drama, brings you the Adventures of Sam Spade. Effie! Let's see if he could turn on some more heat so you can- Oh, you're not so very wet. Well, I had a dry martini on the way over. Dr. Ames called you a few hours ago. Dr. Oscar Ames- Did he? That was nice. He was worried about you. Wanted to know if you'd been found, yes. He said you two were on a ferry boat, and that he just stepped in to have a cup of coffee, and when he came back- Yes, Effie, yes. Well, can't keep the FBI waiting. The FBI? Well, she don't think I was playing around with kids on this caper. Oh, no, no, no, Sam. I knew to be grown up. Now take it down, then. And this one, your uncle Sam was working for his uncle Sam. They fill it in. Two Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, D.C. Care of J. Edgar... Oh, no, that'd be too much. Well, why not? From Samuel Spade, license number 137596. Subject, Boris Kargominsky. How do you spell that, Sam? Kargominsky, K-A-R-G. No, I don't mean that. I mean Boris. Oh, I should have known. B-O-R-I-S. Dear sir, last night I let my secretary off at 5.30 so that she could go and do some Christmas shopping, although I've told her repeatedly that all I want this year is money. The fog was rolling in off the bay, and it was bitter cold as I came out onto the street, pulling my overcoat collar up around my ears. Seemed like the night for spaghetti. A wonderful spaghetti dinner and some pleasant Italian hospitality down at Mama Pizza's restaurant on the Embarcadero opposite the ferry building. So that's where I went. But Mama Pizza had more than hospitality on her mind when she met me at the door. Oh, I'm so glad to find you. I would just call her. You heard it. Oh, what's the trouble? Mama, someone been stealing ravioli? Please. It's in my cousin Tony. They tried to kill him. Oh, what happened, Mama? Come on, Sam. You eat with us. Our table. I'll make Tony tell you. He's gonna feel so good, but he can't talk all right. You're gonna see. She led me to the back of the restaurant to the table where the family generally sits. Her daughters, Angelina and Patty were there with plates of food in front of them, but they weren't eating any of them. They were staring in awe at the man who sat next to them. He was small to start with, but he was even smaller hunched down in his chair miserably, staring, unseeing into a glass of wine. On the table in front of him was a battered old concertina. The top of his head was waved in a clean, new bandage. Sit down, Sam. Sit down. This is about cousin Tony Calucci. Tony, my good friend, Mr. Spade. Hello, Tony. Hello. Go on, Tony. You tell Sam what's happened on you. Sam, you have your dinner at the same time. Don't forget, tonight you're gonna be my guest. What do you like to eat? Galapini, cacciatori? Well, I don't care, Mama. What's that on your plate, Angelina? You gonna eat that? Well, pass it over. And waste not, want not. That's what I always say. Now, what happened on you, Tony? Well, I'm on the boat, see. Yeah, on what boat? The ferry boat, Auckland ferry boat. Don't you ever hear my music on the boat? Ah, you play the concertina on the ferry ride. Sure, Manobo. Tonight on the six o'clock boat. Oh, boy. Tonight on the six o'clock boat, what? I'm gonna play inside the first by the sandwich place. And everybody say, oh, boy, Tony, you're good. You play good. Play some more. Ten cents a year, five cents, two quarters even. Then I go upstairs. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. And? Then I go out on the deck. It's very misty, foggy, black. Can't see nothing. Now, I'm very happy. I feel like I play some more. So I'm gonna walk away back and open and down the deck and make music, see. And all of a sudden, I hear somebody say something to me. I can't see nobody. But I hear him. What do you think he said to me? What? What? Cospedor. Cospedor? As in bar? Cospedor. Well. So I'm gonna say back to him, cospedor. I still can't see nobody. Then I hear him say, is that you play Boris? So I get mad. I don't play Boris, I play Pagliacci. Tosca, trovatore. But I don't play Boris. That's a foreign stuff. I see. And then? I'm sorry. I say that because this fellow, he sounds like he's a foreign. So I'm just gonna say, look, mister. Oh, boy. What, Tony? What? Patun. I get a hit on the head, smash, patun. I fall down. I'm bleeding. I come satin and my head's got a big hole on the top. I let out a big yell. Then I'm a blackout. Oh, boy. People come running around in a good luck. There's a doctor on the board. They carry me down the stairs and he picks me up. Otherwise, I'm a guy for sure. Well, what did it feel like, what he hit you with? Well, it feel like a baseball bat. My doctor is... Oh, look, he's the doctor now, just to come in. Hey, doctor. The doctor looked in our direction when Tony called and strode over to the table, a big six-foot-free blond guy in the Joel McCray-Gary Cooper tradition. You had to like him right away. No bedside manner to this doctor, although he could have had as much of it as he liked. He was all business and no kidding. I thought I told you to go to bed and stay there. Well, doctor, just to... You may have a concussion, Tony. I'll be back here in an hour and then we'll take some x-ray. My name is Sam Spade, doctor. I'm a friend of the family. Oh, Ames. Dr. Oscar Ames, how are you? Doctor Ames, can I get you something to eat for me? No, thanks, mama. Smells wonderful, but I haven't time. Oh, I'll have a cup of coffee, maybe. Sure. You want time to make Tony go to bed? Yeah. Go on now, Tony. Go lie down. I'll be back and we'll check you over. Get some rest in the meantime. All right, all right. Dr. Ames, I don't know. X-ray is a whole thing. I don't know how I'm going to pay you. Never mind that. That's why we charge our Nob Hill patients a little extra so we're able to do something like this once in a while. This will be on me, Tony. You're good, the kind of man, the doctor. I don't know what to say. You go on and lie down, Tony. You're embarrassing that doctor. All right, all right. Screwy thing, this one isn't a doctor. Sure is. Here's for your coffee. Oh, thanks, mama. Yeah? Sure is. Homicidal maniac looks like Mr. Spade. Spade? Sam? Are you the detective? Yeah, that's right. Well, I know about you. You did something for a colleague of mine. Murphy? Dr. Raul Murphy? Yeah, I did a job for him last summer. Yeah, he gave you a great send-off. He said, what is all this tonight down here? Detectees? Police? Police? How do you mean? Well, I think there were police. Five or six plain closed guys. They were waiting here on this side when the ferry pulled into the slip. They're still there holding the boat. I just left them. What were they doing? Talk to all the passengers as they came off. Ask us for identification. What do they think about Tony's little experience getting knocked on my head? Oh, they were mighty interested, naturally. Especially when I told them how I thought the wound had been inflicted. Which was? Gun butt? Gun butt, eh? Wow. I'd say so. Lord knows I saw enough of those in the war. The Russians used to club prisoners over the head that way to save ammunition. And then fling the guys into the river. Oh, hey, I've got to go. Take that dreary ride again. What, the ferry? Yeah, I got a patient over in Oakland. I had to come back over here to pick up some serum. I phoned my nurse and she met me just out here. Well, nice to have seen you, Sam. Well, tell, uh, what's your name? Tony. Hey, wait a minute, Doc. I've got nothing to do. I'll ride over with you. A little air won't do this dinner any harm. We crossed the street, went into the ferry building. Everything was normal enough in the main waiting room where I stopped to buy cigarettes and a pocket flashlight. But outside on the dock where the Oakland boat was waiting to take off, there were a number of extra characters whom you wouldn't think would have chosen a dismal, chilly night like this for waterfront lounging. There wasn't anybody I knew, and in any gathering of playing clothesmen, local variety, I generally spot one or two familiar faces. Dr. Ames and I got aboard, followed by three of these gentlemen. The broadest one, who was built for endurance, exchanged pleasantries with us as the boat moved out into the water. Hello, Dr. Ames. I see you didn't miss the boat, like they all say. No. Oh, you're one of the colors I talked to before when we landed. Yeah, that's right. I don't think I got your name. Connelly. Connelly, that's Mr. Spade. Yeah? Would that be Lieutenant Connelly or Sergeant, maybe? That's Connelly. No special title. I was a little fella doing, Doctor. Hello, Chief. Tony, he's under care. He, uh, talk anymore, say anything interesting? I didn't talk to him. Mr. Spade here did. Oh, really? Really. What do you have to say? Well, you see, I'm an old friend of his family. What he told me was in confidence, and I really have to know a little more about who I'm telling his secrets to. I see. Spade, your name was? Still is. Nice to meet you, Ghostbadine. Ghostbadine? It means nothing to you, huh? It might. Ghostbadine sounds like another word. Somebody might think you said cuspidone. That's very funny. Eh, are you going to stay out here on deck? We haven't made up our mind. Is that okay? I'll go inside, have a little coffee at the snack bar. It's comfortable. The ride's over before you know it. Out here it's foggy, wet, and miserable. Well, I'm going in. I'll see you later. Goodbye, Doctor. Maybe he's right, although I must say he's not my favorite man in the world at Mr. Connelly. It is strictly pneumonia weather out here on deck. Shall we go in? Not just yet for me, Doctor. I think I'll stretch my legs a little. Doc, tell me, where was it that Tony got caught on the upper deck I know, but which side? Uh, he returned around now. Uh, Starboard, just about directly above where we're standing. Yeah, right. Don't point, Doc. Our friend Connelly and his boys are on their way out to see us. Uh, no, they went back in. Do you think they're as mysterious as they seem? Oh, definitely, that. You know what made him turn back just now? Decided it wasn't necessary to check whether we were still here? No, what? They can't make us out out here. It's too dark. But they can see two lighted cigarettes. Same space, Detective. Mm-hmm. Look, even in the face of pneumonia, you want to get up there and look around where Tony was, don't you? I do. Well, then hand me your cigarette and I'll smoke them both a yard apart and we'll both be here, except you. Oscar Ames, MD. Masterful thinking, Doc. Go ahead, I'll be here. So I traveled the slippery spares to the upper deck. The fog was as wet as rain. I couldn't see any more than inches ahead of me with my flashlight. Finally, I stopped about a midship and looked down over the rail. Ames and his two cigarettes, tiny red dots of light, that grew brighter every now and then as he puffed at them, were almost directly beneath me, so I knew I was just about right. A sudden noise over my head made me shoot my light up toward it. It came from a piece of canvas that had suddenly ripped loose, the canvas that covered the top of a lifeboat. I got up there somehow and perched precariously, holding onto two steel supports with one arm. The piece of canvas had been ripped open with a knife, a hole large enough for a man's body to get through. And that's what was in there, sprawled in the bottom of the lifeboat. A man's body. He'd been stabbed in the neck. This was the man who had slugged Tony. Or so it seemed, because the gun was still clenched in his right hand, barrel reversed. There was nothing in his pockets, just a handkerchief and two dollars in change. But my flash caught a speck of something white in one of his shoes. There was a bit of paper with two pipe-written lines out. I let myself down at the deck, rubbed the circulation back into my arm, where I'd been holding on and prepared to read the note. And that's when my flashlight went dead. I groped above, cursing him for not chucking their batteries until I found a faint ghostly glimmer of light overhead, out over the edge of the ship, on the outside of the rail. I climbed over, steadied myself against lurching and lit a couple of matches. It said, International Postcard Shop, Geary Street, SF, Leading Card for Boris. I put a bit of paper in my pocket and turned to climb back over the rail. And then something came at me from the flatch. It caught me full in the center of the forest. And as I staggered, came again like a black-out wood. Right on the top of my head, it made it burn with sudden fire. Tiny points of light glittered in the blackness. Came rushing toward me and grew larger, and I felt crashing over the side. They tell you a lot about what you remember when you're going down for the third time. You know what I remembered? I remembered that Gospet Jean is Russian for comrade. Sam Spade, detective. You are listening to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective, Sam Spade. Imagine the greatest names in stage, screen, and radio. People like Bob Hope, Rosalind Russell, Meredith Wilson, Frankie Lane, and many, many others. Imagine an hour and a half of the very finest in comedy, music, and drama. Imagine all this rolled into one wonderful program, resided over by the dis-staffed dynamo, Tallulah Bankhead. Well, NBC has the program. It's the big show, heard every Sunday night over most of these stations. All this and Tallulah too. No wonder it's the big show. And Sunday evening also means theater guild on the air. This Sunday theater guild presents Boomerang, starring Kirk Douglas. And now back to the 2-5-1-2-3-5-6-7-9 caper, tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. I found myself mechanically keeping afloat somehow and trying to get out of my overcoat. My eyes burned. It was as if I'd swallowed gallons of water. My head began to clear a little, but with returning consciousness came increased pain, pretty bad too. From out of the misty blanket, from every direction, in a dozen different keys, from near and far, Foghorn sounded. I knew that by now the current had swept me out of the path of the Oakland ferries. The water was chilling, and I turned over and began swimming, just hard enough to keep the blood circulating. The lights of a boat came into sight suddenly, and I moved back my head and yelled. But the horn crying its warning drowned me out, and the boat went on, and the fog closed in behind me. And then I found myself full of a strange and wonderful weariness. The water wasn't cold anymore. I was warm with a comfortable, soothing numbness, and I knew what to do. I'd swim until I didn't hear the noise of the horns anymore, and then in the quiet of the friendly fog, go to sleep. So I began to doze. And then some lights came into my eyes, and I wanted to stay in the dark, and I turned my face down into the embrace of the water. And then I wasn't where you'd expect it all. I was lying on a baggage truck that was moving. People were crowding around, walking beside the truck, staring at me. The guy in uniform, wheeling me, noticed I had my eyes open. Well, hello, pal. Welcome back to the United States. Hello. What part of the United States? Just landing in Sausalito. They still will take you over to the Hudson. Before this boat gets back to San Francisco. Right away. Hey, I'm going with you. Hey, wait. You ain't in no condition. Thanks. I'll be okay. Half an hour later, shivering and shaking in my wet clothes, keeping my mouth clamp tight so my teeth wouldn't sound like a dice game, I climbed into a taxi at the ferry building and went to my apartment. There I swallowed half a pint of whiskey and rubbed myself with a coarse towel until my skin was sore. Then I looked in the pocket of the soggy suit I'd hung up to dry. It was still there. A piece of paper from the dead man's shoe. Damp, but legible. International postcard shop. Gary Street. That's it. Greeting card for Boris. I got up to put on a dry suit and then changed my mind, put the wet one back on. Good evening. Are you the proprietor here? Yes, that's right, sir. Six years at the same location. Oh, my goodness, is it raining out? You really got... A dowsing? Yes, I did. Of course, cards from all over, right? South America, every place. Yes, I've tried myself on having the most complete possible selection. Was there something you have especially in mind? Yes, there was. I'm looking for a greeting card for Boris. You... What's the matter? Didn't you hear me? Yes. Didn't you understand? Well, I... Well what? It's only that I didn't exactly expect somebody like you. What did you expect? Somebody slinking around in a false mustache, and an invernous cape? No, I... You know, you know, with your type of thinking, you may not be the right man for this job, Gaspagey. No, no, wait please, Mr. Luboff, I thought you were dead. You drowned. Yeah, who told you that? Well, you know. Yeah, well I didn't drown. I jumped in the water when I heard him coming. You can see how wet I still am. Yes, yes, of course. So you escaped. Easily. Enough talk. Hand it over. The greeting card for Boris. Very well. You see, that's San Francisco, of course. He turned and reached down under the counter. I slipped my hand under my armpit and held my 38 ready in case he came up with something similar. But all he brought forth was a box marked special. From this he expected something and handed it to me. I took it with a knowing expression on my face but I didn't know from nothing as to what it meant. All it was was an ordinary postcard. That's all a picture postcard showing the Golden Gate Bridge. Underneath it, the caption, Wonder Cities of the World, number 251235679 San Francisco. Nothing else. I was afraid my mouth was open. What's the matter? Matter? Don't you know how to read the name? It's so difficult, of course. Idiot, certainly I know how. I was just admiring the work, that's all. Oh, it is excellent, isn't it? Look, you'd better go now. You've been in here an awfully long time. No, of course we don't. I'm sorry to have been overly cautioned. There is no such thing as over caution. Thank you. You were so... were you seen like an American? So do you. I strode out onto the street touching my postcard but I shoved it inside my sleeve a moment later because who I saw standing under the mystic glimmer of a streetlight waiting for me was my heavy set mysterious friend from the ferry boat. Connolly, I turned my head around and glanced down the other end of the block behind me. Two other guys were there sure enough and they advanced slowly toward me with their hands raised, palms out, as if they were showing me they weren't carrying guns. I reached my hand inside for mine all the same but I never got to use it because Connolly rushed me from the other side. I caught him on the chin and he went down clattering into an ash can. The other two boys grabbed me and held my arms behind me. Connolly got up rubbing his face and I waited to get murdered, but no. All right, Joe Lewis. Bring him along. And so they did. We didn't go far though just around the corner to a little hamburger place that had a sign in the door saying closed, although there were lights inside. Connolly knocked on the door and a fellow with an apron came and opened it and locked it after us. Connolly gave me a nod and we sat down at a table while he brought us coffee. Spade, we've checked on you. You seem to be okay. You stand in good with the department, friend. What department would that be, friend? FBI. Maybe you can help. Anyhow, we don't want you going around making a noise and messing it up for us, so here it is. I'm all ears. Do you ever hear of a man called Boris Kargominsky? No. Well, not many people have, even in Russia. Boris Kargominsky is the top Soviet agent in America. He's the head man. He organizes and runs everything for them here. I see. Now, he came to this country seven years ago and vanished. We've been trying to find him ever since. We've been trying to get him out of the passport, of course. That didn't help. There's nothing anywhere on Kargominsky. No pictures, not even in Russia. No fingerprints, nothing. Every lead we had, dead end. And then we got word last week... Go ahead, Renkikov. Oh, I'm too interested. We got word last week that another agent, an unimportant little guy named Lyubov, was on his way to San Francisco and that he would definitely have to contact the big gun. Something to do with a Chinese war business that killed Lyubov all the way out here and then he lost him, the Oakland ferry. Well, it didn't bother us very much. He called us and we were waiting on this end. But in pulls the ferry and no Lyubov. Lyubov was a dead man in the lifeboat. Right. He must have been up there waiting to be contacted. Yeah, then he heard Tony in his concertina, thought this might be it, and then when he realized he'd made a mistake and uncovered himself, he conked Tony on the head. Right. And his Soviet contact got scared of investigations on the boat following Tony's hue and cry and stabbed Lyubov. Now, we're back where we started. Every passenger on that ferry was okay. What's that you're looking at? Picture postcard. Found a message on Lyubov about the international postcard shop and a greeting for... Hey, hey, a greeting for Boris. Boris Kargamensky. Now, let me see that. I bulldozed the guy in the shop to let me have it. Looks like nothing. It's just a picture. But he said he... he said I could read the name. Gimme it. Golden Gate. These numbers. Wonder Cities of the World. 5, 6, 7, 9. Hey, wait a minute. Print out the guy's name, Boris. B-O-R-I-S. Leave us space. K-A-R-G-A-M-E-N-S-K-Y. Now put numbers... Wait a minute. The top number is 9. Alright, put 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 over Boris and then start again. 1, 2, 3, up to 9 over Kargamensky. Yeah, yeah. Now, let's go to the postcard. 2, 5, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9. Okay, what's 2? 2 is... O, 5. S? O-S. Now Kargamensky. 1? K. 2, 3. A-R. O-S-K-A-R. Well... Well, I guess we know the rest of it. 5, 6, 7, 9, A-M-E-S, correct? Correct. Oscar Ames. Dr. Oscar Ames. What? I was just thinking. He was worried about me catching pneumonia. I called Mama Pizza and from what she said we knew where to go. We picked him up at the emergency hospital. He was just finishing the operation on Tony's head. We watched him through the glass and the other young doctor standing alongside us said he was one of the greatest surgeons they'd ever seen. When he unrolled his gloves and took off his operating mask he looked up and saw me alive and the other boys with me. His scalp tightened for just a second and then he smiled because when he reached into his bag that we rushed him before he could get the little red bottle to his lips. Period. End of report. A 5 story. Yes, it was F. Everything. A chase and being thrown in the water and mysterious people and a cold message. I better kept you awake, Angel. Sam. What is it like not to want to be in America? Not to want to live the way we do in America. I can't imagine sweetheart. I can't eat. Sam. About Dr. Ames. Yeah? Do you think that, um... I mean the way you described him, do you think you made him sound too sympathetic? Oh, I described him as he was, that's all. But will anybody think that, uh... well, you know, he was attractive. But you missed the whole point, didn't you? Spies don't go around wearing monocles and talking with heavy accents and acting like spies. Not the good ones. It's the attractive, lovable, trustworthy strangers that are dangerous. Now, if you'd met Dr. Ames at a party somewhere, you'd be out with him at a nightclub right now cooling over a drink and giving him the plans for the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Sometimes I can't... I'm getting mad, Sam. I don't even know where Brooklyn is. Lucky for our side. You don't hate me, do you, Sam? No, I can't. Oh, look. Now, does that answer your question? Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. The adventures of Sam Spade are produced, edited and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade was played by Stephen Dunne. Lorraine Tuttle is Effie. Script for tonight's adventure by William Spear. Musical scoring by Lud Gluckin, conducted by Robert Armbruster. Three times mean good times on NBC. There's no cover charge at Duffy's Tavern. Just keep your dial tuned to NBC later as Archie the Manager and his delightful friends cook up another mad and merry session at that remarkable restaurant, Duffy's Tavern. This Sunday, The Big Show comes your way on NBC again, an hour and a half of the best in comedy, music and drama, with guests Bob Hope, Martin and Lewis, Roslyn Russell, Frankie Lane and unpredictable Tallulah as MC. Go ahead. Tell them about the thing. Oh, yes. Sam Spade and Effie asked me to remind you about the thing. The thing for kids for Christmas. You know, the thing can be anything you think an underprivileged child would like for Christmas. In your town, there are civic groups who are cooperating with this thing for kids campaign. Send your new or used toys to the collection centers in your town and help make some child's Christmas brighter. It'll make you happier too. Thank you. Join us again next week, same time for another adventure with Sam Spade. Enjoy the magnificent Montague, then it's Duffy's Tavern on NBC.