 Autolight and its 96,000 dealers presents Suspense Tonight, Autolight brings you a story of murder in the roaring twenties, the Windy City Six, starring Mr. Fred McMurray and featuring Red Nichols and his five pennies Before our play begins, here is a word about Autolight from our good friend, Harlow Wilcox Well, hello, Senor Wilcox Greetings, Pepito, my popular purveyor of potent and peppery plates. How goes? Who knows? I am too filled with excitement, like, oh, like... Like an Autolight-stayful battery is filled with quick dependable starting power and long life? Yes, yes, yes. Well, why the glee, my merry Muchacho? Could it be your Autolight-stayful, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use? Yes, yes, amigo, because with it, I never worry. And what's more, Pepito, the Autolight-stayful gives longer life as proved by tests conducted according to accepted life cycle standards. This is longer than my father's siesta? There's no siesta with the Autolight-stayful, Pepito. Those fiberglass mats protecting every positive plate prevent shedding and flaking and keep the stayful power filled for you. For me? Of course, you and every motorist who visits his neighborhood Autolight battery dealer for an Autolight-stayful, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use, because you're always right with Autolight. And now with the windy city six and the performance of Mr. Fred McMurray, Autolight hopes once again to keep you in suspense. It all happened some time ago. By some time I mean those days when moonlight on the Ganges was a must at the country club dance, when our nerds was considered snappy repartee, when it wasn't entirely unfashionable to be seen in a raccoon coat complete with flask when the Harbids and the Yales met in deathless combat. Maybe it'll lose a little something in the translation, but it's worth a try. Anyway, as it happened we were playing in a little pad on Oriole Street, crazy Jack Fisher's high hat. It was a speed, but then what wasn't at that time? When the breeze was off the river you could hear the rift notes of the windy city six blowing up town. Greeting from left to right there was Corny Peters on horn, Rip Jack's non-alto, Thurber Jones on the licorice, Tinkle Hobson on the Baldwin, Red Moor slapping and me on the skins. I'm Car Stairs Hamilton, sometimes known as rim shot, but more often as hand. So we'll keep it that way. Corny, you have voted to beat three times in that last set. What is it? Well, every time I slide a glimmer with that skirt at table 13, my ticker skips a beat. Maybe my sticks caught the fever. Well, I'll still play, boys, whether our Bull Hurley and Red Rocks fowl. They get ready to whistle again. They want to talk with you. Talk with me? That's what they said. Go on now. Keep the customers happy. Okay, Corny. Somebody said you wanted to see me. I guess maybe it was a mistake, so I'll just... It wasn't no mistake. Sit down. Yes, sir. See this girl? Well, to tell you the truth, I don't think I ever noticed her. How do you do? Hello. You've been staring at her all night, and last night, and the night before. Oh, I might have been looking this way, but I'm new-sighted. You ought to be in George White's scandals. Now, let me give it to you straight baddies. We're taking care of this girl for a very particular friend. So lay off her, huh? Because if you don't, your poor old mother's going to have some place to take flowers on Sunday afternoon. Your grave. After my drums, I tried not to look at the girl, but I could still see her in my mind. Soft, dark hair. None of that shingled bob stuff. A real Marcel finger wave. A warm, young face. Lots more that curved down into a fur coat that must have sent somebody back a whole truckload of upstate scotch. Once in a while, I sneaked a quick peek, and every time she was looking at me. And suddenly I got scared, and I lost up a couple of beats. Only got some mad he blew up. But it didn't make much difference then. Our engagement was over. The Windy City 6 broke ranks when it was planned B. I headed for the kitchen. That was always the best way out. In the hallway, a small blonde guy was lifting a couple of shaking hands to his face, and his eyes grew as large as two hard-boiled eggs. Just before he got it. When I got out the kitchen door, I could still see that big black-head, vicious-looking guy peering out into the night, trying to see who it was that passed him in the hall while he was busy killing. I hoped he hadn't seen my face. I ran for a while, and then I slowed down to a walk. The first few snowflakes of winter were starting to fall, and the world was pulling on that wonderland slip-over. I turned my Chesterfield collar up around my neck and noticed I was still holding a pair of drumsticks. I thought it over for a minute. Then I threw them into the darkness beyond the streetlight. I made up my mind that from now on I was going to stay out of joints like the I had. When I finally got back to my rooming house, there was a surprise and a fur coat waiting for me, sitting on the front stoop. I tried to ignore her. You're blind or something? I suppose you get dozens of girls sitting on your step, and I'm waiting for you. Hey! Oh! Were you looking for me? What do you think I've been sitting out here in the cold for? Selling subscriptions to the police, Gazette? Sit down. Won't you come inside? It's safer out here. I haven't forgotten the way you were looking at me at the hi-hat. Say, tell me, how'd you get out of that raid so quick? How do you think? I was with Red Rock's Ferrell. They don't touch him. Oh, yeah, of course. Mind telling me your name? Carly. Two E's. Two E's? That's pretty. Tell me, Carla, what do you want with me? How'd you find my place? Crazy Jack gave us the address. Ferrell and Hurley sent me to get you. To get me? Look, I don't know anything. I didn't see anything. I told you I was near sighted. 2040. They got a place up in the mountains. They decide to throw a holiday party. They want a band. Isham Jones was busy, so all you guys were being picked up. I lost my drums. Don't worry, they'll get drums. Let's go. Are you going with me? Somebody has to show you the road. Alone? Look, we can talk all about it on the way. And don't get any ideas, because I might send for reinforcements. And these reinforcements will make a marine landing look like Isidore Duncan's finale. You got anything brave to say? I'll bet you I'm ready before you can count to a hundred. Try twos. I put the chains on my old marmin, buttoned up the eyes and glass curtains, cracked the bottle of antifreeze, and we started off. The snow was swirling down faster than ever and was better than three inches deep by the time we were 40 miles out of town. Cora was under a blanket, cuddled up next to me like she meant it, her head on my shoulder. But it wasn't as romantic as it sounds because under the blanket Cora was shaking. It was the kind of shaking you don't get from being cold, but from being scared. I should have known then that something was terribly wrong, but I had to learn the hard way. Cora? Huh? Cora, why do you hang around with bozos like Red Rocks Fell and Bull Hurley for? For the same reason you play in places like the High Hat. The best offer I got. Also the worst. Look, suppose I just kept going now. Somewhere out west, Chicago maybe. Would you go with me? They'd never let us get away with it. What did we lose trying? You don't belong with those guys. You belong where the air is clean and you only take a drink when you want it and love when you... Please, don't. What's the matter? Did I say something wrong? Look, why don't you hit me on the head and throw me out and just keep going? Throw you out. Cora, I wouldn't throw you out to save my life. Oh, Hem, don't say that. About an hour later we passed through the town of Norrisburg and arrived at a big private estate called Haywell Manning. The big party was going strong. The rest of the Windy City six boys had preceded me all under escort. The man who answered the door was the one person I never wanted to see again. When I'd seen him last, he was killing a man at the High Hat. Well, Cora, I see you got him. You've got a pretty smart way of leaving a ray in the hurry, sonny. Kitchen door. I hope nothing happens to your luck. Kitchen door? I didn't go out the kitchen door. I was left by the basement window. I hope for your sake you're right, sonny. Mike, he's a genuine nice guy. Well, nice guy? I think you like this party. Lots of drinks, lots of girls. And lots of happy music, huh? Oh, sure. Sure, I'll do my best. Did you get my drums? Don't worry about drums. We don't have them. We'll give you a couple of skulls of either. Now go on, pour yourselves a drink and get warm. Cora, who is he? Big Mike Donovan. This is his place. He's to the rackets what Dempsey is to boxing. Yeah? Well, I'm going to tell you something about him. I hear the human life means nothing to him. So you heard it. Don't go broadcasting it all over the place. You want to stay alive, don't you? It's always been one of my cheap aims in life. Then keep what you know under your hat, you dumb drummer. It was big and it was bouncy. Cora was sitting in a corner looking scared. Big Mike Donovan, Bull Hurley and Red Rock Fell were gathered at the bar drinking an uncommon amount of liquor. I'm looking our way every time they wanted to laugh. Herbert Jones began to get nervous and his clarinet developed an off-key squeak. The three men put down their drinks and came over. Which one do you think it is, Bull? I got ten bucks as it's a saxophone player. He's got a shifty look. I'll take the bet, because I don't think he's the guy. Which one would you pick out, Red Rock? Who else? The drummer. Yeah, he's afraid to look at us. I think you're wrong, too. I put my money on the clarinet player. It's elementary. Every time he looks over at us, he shakes. Every time he shakes, he squeaks in the high notes. Are these the signs of a guy who don't know nothing? Maybe you're right, Mike. Look at him shaking now. Hey, you! With the clarinet! Yes, Mr. Donovan? What's your name? Jones, sir. Thurber Jones. Well, Thurber Jones. Me and Bull and Red Rocks think you're a lousy clarinet player. I'm doing my best, sir. We got an idea. We can show you how to play it better. Come with us, sir. Well, I'll do better, sir, if you'll just... I said, come with us. Wait a minute. They walked outside. And that was the last time I ever saw Thurber Jones alive. The rest of us were his jumpiest cats, and we played for two hours without a break. Everybody was getting stoned, but I didn't dare take a drink. Then Big Mike called an intermission while they served the buffet dinner. But everybody was so drunk that nobody ate much. Big Mike began to be loud and noisy, and he was started waving a gun around, boasting what a great shot he was. He kicked open a couple of French windows. And out in the lawn of all things stood a giant snowman. Just watch. Just watch. I'll blast every lousy button off his lousy shirt. He did it all right. Four pieces of coal shattered and vanished into the snow. Everybody cheered and then turned back to the food and drinks. Everybody that is but me. I couldn't take my eyes off the snowman because running down its crystal white front was red blood. The light is bringing you Mr. Fred McMurray with red nickels and his five pennies in the Windy City 6. Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theatre of thrills. Suspense. Hey, Senor Wilcox, how about a tortilla? Why, sure, Pepito. I'll always tortilla about that great auto-light-stay-full battery. How about a tamale? Why wait till tamale? Today and every day you'll get quick dependable starts with the auto-light-stay-full battery. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Well, enchilada maybe? You're amped. Chilada, your Uncle Manuel and Grandpa. Everybody loves the auto-light-stay-full. The battery that gives longer life has proved by tests conducted according to accepted life cycle standards. Glass of tequila, Senor? Fiberglass, Pepito, because fiberglass retaining mats protect every positive plate of the auto-light-stay-full battery to reduce shedding and flaking and keep the stay-full power packed for perfect propulsions. But what is this in English? It means visit your neighborhood auto-light- battery dealer for an auto-light-stay-full. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. However, you're always right with auto-light. And now, auto-light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage Mr. Fred McMurray in Elliott Lewis' production of The Windy City Six. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. During the years of the big thirst, homicide was an art. Sometimes it was tommy guns against a wall, sometimes it was a concrete overshoe in the bottom of the East River, maybe an ice-pick in the heart. But out on the snow-swept lawn of Big Mike Donovan's mansion that cold December night, I was looking at the chilliest bit of murder any crazy hooligan ever thought up, a bleeding snowman. Only now it wasn't a snowman. Pam, you better get back inside. You'll freeze out here. Yeah, it's Thurbercora, Thurberjohns. Little guy. He played the sweetest clarinet he used to sing to Lewis. He was ours learning money to guys. He loved everybody. He never hurt a soul. Who did it, Ham? Who did it? Who else but your playmate Donovan? But why, Ham? Why? You tell me why. You helped bring all of us up here, didn't you? Oh, but not for this. Believe me, Ham, not for this. I suppose you don't know that Mike Donovan killed a man in a high hat tonight. Well, I heard him bragging about it a while ago with somebody who hijacked a truckload of Mike's liquor. Well, somebody saw him. And I guess he figured it was one of us. Who saw him? Well, I guess he thought it was Thurber. I mean, it wasn't? I don't mean anything. I'm getting cold. Why don't you go back inside and join your killers? Ham. Go on. You work this side of the street for all the laughs you're going to get. Oh, Ham, I'm not the same as they are. I don't blame you for thinking what you do, but I wish you wouldn't. Yeah, all right. Let's just say the jury's still out on you. Look, look how proofed you have not liked them. Here. You'll need a fast car. What are these for? They're the keys to Mike's car. It's in the garage. Take it down to Norrisburg and come back with all the cops you can find. Hi, Bernie. That's Mike. That's Mike. Where are you? All right, please, go. I want them to get what's coming to them. I want them to get it good. But what about you? Hey, Kara. Who are you talking to about me? Come on, fight to the party, baby. Go on. Go on. Before all of you wind up like Thurber. I've gone inside with Mike. I made a beeline for the garages and back. Just as I got the keys and the ignition, somebody... In case you don't know it, flea brain, this is Mike Donovan's car. Oh, well, I guess I must have made a mistake. Take that gun off my head, will you? Mike hires me to do nothing but sit in the back seat of his car. Now I might get a raise. Well, I always like to see somebody get ahead of the gun. I might get a raise because Mike wouldn't like you to leave his party without first you telling him what a nice time you had. Oh, you got me wrong. I was going to write him a bread and butter letter first thing in the morning, honest. I bought the gun. Shut up before I shove it through your stinking skull. I start walking. The next thing I remember was being kicked through the door of the big house. The party kept right on whirling. Nobody paid much attention. Nobody except the boys in the band had... They were beginning to get the idea. Slowly they stopped playing and then people began to turn around and look. It reminded me of a ring of faces about to watch a hanging. What's this all about, Chick? The creeper tried to lift your car. He even had the keys. Where'd you get them? I sort of found them. Hey, you can't do that to one of my boys. Shut up, you. I said where did you get them? I told you I found them. Where did you get them? Didn't care whether I lived or died right then. And when somebody kicked me twice in the kidneys, the choice was made for me. I was sure I died because everything went black. I came too. I was still lying in the same place. The party was still going on. Nobody even looked at me as I staggered to my feet and wiped the blood and the booze and the glass off the best I could. I stood there holding onto the bar wondering what to do. Wondering what it was all about. Can you still walk, stupid? Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. And toss them back to your drums and stop playing. Okay. You know something, Blockhead? I didn't want him to stop. I think Big Mike's got something special in mind for you later. None of the boys in the band even looked at me when I got back to my drums and picked up the beat. Corny and Rip and Tinker acted as if I were dead already. We played all through our sheets twice without a break. None of us dared stop. We knew somehow we were playing for our lives. Eight six five. Eight six five. Come on, Ivory. Make that eight. Five fizzy cups on this one. I'll take it. Long about dawn, the party turned into a noisy crap game where nobody paid much attention to our background music. Cora was with them, sort of moving in and around. I saw her whisper something in Bull Hurley's ear and then later she did the same thing to Red Rocks. Then she sort of sauntered over by the band, not looking at us, but we all heard what she said. Boys, keep your eye on Mike Donovan. When he goes over to Red Rocks, get ready to move. He'll be your only chance to get out of here alive. Make it good. We all looked at each other and kept right on playing, waiting to see what she was talking about. But he soon it began to make sense. Are you dirty here? I'm going to pass at my girl. I'm going to pass at your girl, Mike? Just tell me that you and Red Rocks both made passes at her. And I'm going to break both your necks. Now, wait a minute, Mike. That's our cue, boys. Everybody up. Don't forget your music sheets. Boys, this way. Out through this door. Yeah, I got it. Come on, boys. Cue. This air feels good. Yeah, it'll feel better a hundred miles from here. Where's your car? It's right over there, parked in front. Come on, come on. Yeah, I'll be right with you. Go ahead. Cora. Go on, get out of here. You'll never have another chance. I'm not going without you. Come on, Ham. Don't just stand there. I'll be all right. Yeah, for how long? One of those ready boys in there will start shooting his guns again and you might get in the line of fire. I do. I deserve it for being so dumb. Ham, we'll all be killed if you don't move. Well, Cora? I'd only get you in trouble. Yeah, I believe you, but I want to take you anyway. Ham, for God's sakes. Look, lady, tell him you'll come with him, please. Ham, I wanted anything but a dumb $35 a week drum player. Oh, I get it. Well, that tears it. I'm washed. But I never knew how wonderful a dumb $35 a week drum player could be. Huh? I'm coming with you. We all scrambled over to my marmin and climbed in. Red and ripped in the back seat. Cora in front of me at the helm and corny on the crank. What's the matter with it, Ham? Well, it's 10 below zero. Give it another whirl. For God's sakes, make it go, Ham. No, we can't get stuck here. Well, just take it easy. It'll catch. There. Come on, corny, get in. What did I tell you? Like a Swiss watch, huh? Let's get out of here. Hang on. We're off. Yeah. Anybody hit? No, but we're going to have to move faster than this. Don't worry. I've got her souped up to where she'll go 50. Hold on. By the time we got out under the slick icy road, a whole car full of hooligans were coming right after us with guns blazing. I didn't know anything about guns, but one thing I knew was how to handle my Marma. It didn't weigh much, and I figured to pull into the next curve, climb the coal on, skid into the snow bag, and bounce off out of the straightaway. If that heavy road tried to make it at the same speed and hit the snow bag, I was sure to go right on through. Ham, look out the curve. Come on, kids. This is it. Forces later, I flooded an eyelid open and ventured a peak somewhere I'd miscalculated because we were now stacked against a giant tree right on the edge of the road, looking down into the valley. And down there 100 feet below us was a pile of something that had once been a rich, expensive automobile full of rich, cheap thugs. And around it, no one stirred. Oh, darling, are you all right? Yeah. Yeah, I guess so, Cora. How about you? I'm all right. How about the rest of you? I'm okay. Shaking up, that's all. I busted my lip. Look. I'll never put my base back together again. Well, at least we're all alive, except poor Thurber. Well, what do you say we get out and take a walk into town? This is a job for the John Laws. Well, that's the Coda. It was the last engagement of the Windy City Six. We went out with a full arrangement and a big finish. It was in all the papers. Maybe you saw the spray. The boys on the front page, Mike Donovan and company and vital statistics and Cora and me and the social columns. Yeah, we did it. Complete with old shoes and new rice. Oh, if you ever happen to get up Norseburg way on a curve that turns on a steep hillside with an old scarred tree looking down into the valley, take five and listen. Maybe you can still hear an old clarinet squeaking on the high notes. Or if the light's right, maybe you could even catch the pale ghost of a big gunman with homicide in his eyes looking around. Looking around for a drummer who saw him kill. Suspense presented by AutoLite. Tonight's star, Mr. Fred McMurray. Ah, Pepito, that was a great meal. What's the matter, Senor Wilcox? I'm too full to talk. And if you could talk, Senor? Then I'd tell all about the more than 400 products made by AutoLite for cars, trucks, planes and boats in 28 plants coast to coast. These include complete electrical systems used in the original factory equipment on many leading makes of America's finest cars. Electric windshield wipers, starting motors, voltage regulators, coils, distributors, wire and cable, generators. All engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly because they're a perfect team. So friends, don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good. Ask for and insist on AutoLite original factory parts at your neighborhood service station, car dealer, garage or repair shop. Remember, you're always right with AutoLite. Next week, we celebrate the return of the first lady of suspense, Miss Agnes Moorhead. In a play we call The Death Parade. And then on February 22nd in answer to your many requests, backseat driver repeated for you with its original stars, Fibber McGee and Molly. All on suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis Music composed by Lucian Moraweck and conducted by Lud Bluskin. Portions of this program were transcribed. Tonight's cast included Mary Jane Croft and Edmund MacDonald. The Windy City 6 was written for suspense by E. Jack Newman and John Michael Hayes. Fred Beckmurray may currently be seen in the RKO picture Never a Doll moment. And remember, next week on Suspense, Miss Agnes Moorhead has a woman who finds a letter warning of death and has only three hours to deliver it. A tale we call The Death Parade. You can buy auto light, stay full batteries, auto light standard type or resistor type spark plugs, auto light electrical parts at your neighborhood auto light dealers. Switch to auto light. Good night. Nearly half of the people who died in America last year were victims of heart disease, our number one killer. This week the American Heart Association appeals for your support to combat and conquer this scourge. Send your contributions to heart care of your local post office. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.