 Sound off for Chesterfield. Chesterfield, the only cigarette in America to give you premium quality in both regular and king size, brings you dragnet. Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. You're a detective sergeant, you're assigned a homicide detail. The body of a dead man has been found in the rear of his shop. He has been brutally beaten to death. The killer is unknown. Your job, find him. Thousands are changing to Chesterfield, both regular and king size. Because Chesterfield is the first and only cigarette to give you premium quality in both sizes. That means king size Chesterfield contains tobaccos of better quality and higher price than any other king size cigarette. It's the same fine tobacco as in regular Chesterfield. There is absolutely no difference except that king size Chesterfield is larger. Contains so much more of the same tobaccos it gives more than a fifth longer smoke. Yes, more than a fifth longer smoke. So remember, Chesterfield is the only cigarette to give you premium quality in both regular and king size. Buy them either way you like them. Premium quality Chesterfield and much milder. The documented drama of an actual crime. For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will travel step by step on the side of the law through an actual case transcribed from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Monday, July 5th. It was hot in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of homicide detail. My partner is Frank Smith. The boss is Captain Lorman. My name's Friday. It was 7.58 a.m. when I got to room 42 in the homicide. Hey, you, Joe? Yeah. How's it going? Don't ask me. What's the matter? Went to the beach yesterday. Got your son burned. I could hardly sleep last night. I'm just miserable, Joe. It's gonna be a week before I can wear a shirt without feeling I got army blanket on. Well, can't you get something for it? Something to make it feel a little better anyway? Don't bring that up either. What's that? If you've got any homemade remedies for son burn, keep them to yourself. I've had them for now. Why? What's the matter? Like I said, we went to the beach yesterday. Beautiful day. They fixed up a lunch, sandwiches, potato salad, devil eggs, all that stuff. Yeah, I know. We went down to Castle Rock, you know, down the highway. Yeah. Just had a ball. Just great. Kids played in the water, and when it got dark, we had a few Fourth of July things for them. You know, sparklers, stuff like that. Yeah. When we got home, I started to feel it. What, the sunburn? Yeah. Back feels like it's on fire, Joe. Legs feel like it got them in hot oil. Believe me, it's terrible. Took off my shirt, pants at home, just sitting there in my shorts. I was trying to figure out some way to stop the burning, you know. Yeah. Well, it happened. In comes Armin. Oh, it's your brother-in-law, huh? Yeah. He's read in some magazine where tea is the stuff for burns. Right away, starts brewing tea. Tea? Can you drink? Yeah. It tells me to lay down on the floor, right? Flat on my stomach. I was feeling so miserable, I'd have done anything to get rid of the feeling, so I just lay there. And he starts putting tea leaves all up and down my back. Back in my legs, and felt real good at first. Kind of cool, you know. Yeah. And all this time, you're laying on your stomach there. Yeah. Right in the middle of the living room floor. He put papers down first, you know, so the tea wouldn't drip all over the floor. Well, you brew this stuff first. Yeah. And then they put the tea leaves on me, but then the tea leaves started to dry. They crinkled all up, and the pain came back. Just miserable, Joe. Well, did it do any good at all? I don't know. They finally took it off and put some kind of ointment on my back. Helped a little. Had to sleep on my stomach all night. Couldn't turn over. I just lay real still. Once in a while, I'd fall asleep and roll over, and wow, I'd wake right up with a pain. I tell you, Joe, I didn't sleep at all. Not a wink. Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't see what you're blaming Armand for. Seems like he did try to help you out, though. Oh, sure. He tried. The whole thing was his fault. He'd kept his big mouth shut. Everything would have been all right. How'd he figure that? From picnic. It was his idea, Joe. It's a hot shot. I'll get it. What is it? Killing down on Bixle. 8.14 a.m., we arrived at the address on South Bixle. It was a small neighborhood pawn shop. A radio card arrived, and the two officers had cleared the crowd away from the entrance of the store. One of the officers showed us through a curtain into the back room. Everything was smashed. Glass cases were demolished. Clothing from the shelves had been torn down and thrown all over the floor. At one side of the room, a closet door was half open, and in the closet was the body of a man. We started to talk with George Armstrong, a victim's partner. Terrible. I don't want to look at him. I don't want to believe it. Anybody would do this to Mark. Mark, is that your partner's name? Yes, it's Mark Williams, my friend. We've been together the last 15 years. We've each other for 10 years before that. I don't want to think about it. We're out here, sir. The front part of the store. Would it be all right? Yes, it'd be fine. I'll call a crime lab, John. All right, good. Where's the phone, sir? Just back there on the wall. Thanks. I'd like to ask you some questions if it'd be all right. Yes. You discovered the body. Is that right? Well, yes. This morning, when I came in, I opened the store like I always do. About 7.45, I guess it was. Something like that. I see. I opened the front door like I usually do, and I came in and put the water on for some tea. You can see there, I see that hot plate. Mark and I usually have a cup of tea when he comes in. I see. Well, then I went to the back room to hang up my coat. First, I thought that somebody had tried to rob the place. Way things almost scattered all over. Then I saw Mark laying on the floor, and I called you. They're on the way, John. Okay. Did you always open up the store by yourself, Mr. Armstrong? Yes. I don't know how it started. Somewhere along the line, I'd open up the place, and then Mark would clean up the shop and close. It's been that way for years. When did you last see Mr. Williams? That is, when did you see him alive? Saturday night. I left about 5.45. He was closing the place up. I told him that I'd meet him for breakfast Sunday morning. He wasn't there. I tried to call him at home, but there wasn't any answer. His landlady, they hadn't seen him. Was he married, do you know? No. He wasn't married. Same thing happened to both of us. Neither one of us was married. What's that to you? Well, you see, Mark and I are both in love with the same girl. When we were younger, we used to take her to the park with someone, listen to the band, concert. Three of us, we used to go every place together. Like I said, both of us were in love with her. Well, things went along just fine for a year or so, and she got married to someone else. Mark and I were pretty sad about it. Couldn't blame the girl over the guy. She married, was rich, had a big house, and was a good family. We didn't have much of anything. No, neither of us married. Just never seemed to find a girl compared with Kate. Kate? Kate Dillon, she's a lovely girl. That's meeting you were going to have yesterday morning. Was that a regular thing? Oh, yes, it was. You see, about the only relaxation Mark and I had was bowling on the green. Bowling? Mm-hmm. Every Sunday that it didn't rain, we'd meet for breakfast, then catch a bus out to Exposition Park. You know, bowling club out there. Mark and I both belong. Mark was the sort of local champion. Played a real good game. Well, didn't you think that anything was wrong when he didn't meet you yesterday? Well, yes, I did. I did it first. Then I got to thinking about it and I figured maybe he wasn't feeling too good. Just didn't want to go out to the club. Yes, sir. He'd get like that, Moody. Just for no reason at all. Besides, he didn't want to go any place at all and just sit in his room. Almost always came to work, even when he was in the mood, but now and then he'd just sit up there and look out the window. Was there any special reason for all this? No, not that I know of. He'd just get like that. No special reason. When he did, he just had to sit and let the mood pass. Nothing else to do. I see. Well, did Mr. Williams have any enemies that you'd know of anyone at all that might do a thing like this? No, sir. No one. Was he alone when he left him Saturday night? Yes, he was straightening up the shelves, getting the things in order. But he was all by himself. No one was here. Well, have you ever had any trouble with anyone in the neighborhood lately? Somebody who might have been looking for trouble, maybe? A sergeant most of our customers have trouble. Well, yes, sir. But about how much money was on the premises when you left? Maybe $1,500. Where'd you keep the money? In the safe, right there. You can see for yourself it's all right. Would you mind opening it up just to be sure? Well, if you want me to, but I'm sure everything's okay. If you wouldn't mind, sir. Okay. I know there's nothing wrong here. $43. You can see for yourself that everything's okay, gotcha? $16 left. Sir, we just want to be sure. Right to $8. There. You can see it. Uh-huh. Is the money kept in that strong box? Yes, sir. Who knew the combination to this safe? I mean, besides you. Just marking me. We were the only ones. There. All the money's there. Is there anything else missing from the store? Anything that you can see? Well, Sergeant, look around you. If there wasn't anything, how could I tell? I'd have to take a complete inventory. What difference does it make? How's it going to help Mark? Well, it's pretty important. We find out why it was killed the way it was, sir. A beating and all. If you look around, you might be able to come up with something. All right. I'll look around, but I'll tell you, I don't think there's anything gone. All right. If you just do that, we'll look over the back room for you, all right? Pretty bad, huh, John? Yeah. Looks like revenge could have been the motive, maybe, from the looks of things here. Yeah. You have to be something like that. Yeah, but beating. The way the place is all smashed up. Yeah. Frank? Yeah? I'm over here. Yeah? Look here in the closet. You can see it's around the body. Oh, yeah, it looks like a hand axe. Yeah. Might have been trying to defend himself, huh? Maybe. Uh, Sergeant? Yes, sir? You were right. Absolutely right. What's that, sir? Well, he did steal something. The gun case had been broken into. Yes, sir. Anything missing? A couple of revolvers. 8.32 a.m. The crime lab crew arrived and went over the place. In the back room under a pile of clothes, they found a 10-inch length of lead pipe. Dean Bergman from Leighton Prince dusted the room, the safe in the store, and the lead pipe. He came up with several clean prints. He rolled the dead man's fingerprints, and then he took Armstrong's. Comparison with those he'd found eliminated all of them, except a partial print on the safe. The coroner arrived and removed the body. Frank and I canvassed the neighborhood, but none of the people in the area had noticed anyone suspicious in the last few days. We called the office, and Sergeants Joe LaMonica and Howard Hudson came out to help us in the search of the vicinity. The acts found in the hands of the victim, Mark Williams, had stains on the blade. A closer check of the pawn shop showed that several articles other than the guns had been stolen. George Armstrong gave us a complete list of the missing property along with the serial numbers of the guns. 11.34 a.m. Frank and I checked back into the city hall. Frank, did you get the APBs out? Yeah. Notify the pawn shop detail. Any word from LaMonica and Hudson? No, not yet. At least there's nothing in the book there. I get it. Homicide Friday. Oh, yeah, John? Mm-hmm. Yeah. No, we haven't heard from him yet. No. Where? Yeah. Yeah, well, that figures. Uh-huh. Okay, thanks. It's LaMonica. He and Hudson found a blood stain shirt in an alley behind an apartment house a couple of blocks from the pawn shop. Yeah. Checked the apartment register, and they found a Wallace Holmes listed. Holmes? Yeah, LaMonica knows him. Yeah. Just served six months for violation of the Narcotics Act. At 12.02 p.m., we ran the name Wallace Holmes through R&I. He had a record dating back almost 10 years. He'd been arrested twice for violation of the state health and safety code, and once on suspicion of 211 PC. We talked to the neighbors in the apartment building where he lived, but they told us that Holmes had been in bed with a bad cold for the past three days. Several of them had taken him food on occasion and stated positively that he could not have left the apartment. Bergman checked his fingerprints against those we'd found at the pawn shop. There was no make. A stakeout was placed on the building. 2.15 p.m. We checked by the crime lab to see if Ray Pinker had finished the tests on the physical evidence that he'd collected at the murder scene. Looks like the lead pipe. Can you tell us anything about the killer? Nothing. Septi's WMA. How about the other blood stains, Ray? Test out Type O, Victim's Type B. Well, for years, he managed to hit the killer with the ax then, huh? Possible. How about the shirt? Do you find anything on it? Then we finished the tests on the dust particles we found in the pocket yet. Persepient test shows any markings, anything, right? Eh, just about to check it. Spread it out here. You want to get those lights, Frank? Yeah. Turn on this fluorescent. Eh, yeah. What's laundry marking here? Yeah. Looks like RJ. Is that right? And there's a number there, too. 769-02. Anything else, Ray? Hm? Looks like that's about it. What laundry would you know? Yeah, I think so. Marking's the same type as Consolidated Central laundry uses. Big place out on Pico. Oh. Handle cleaning for a lot of small neighborhood places in town. I can give you the address. Okay, anything else? I only had a 15 neck and a 33 sleeve. Average size, not much help, huh? Maybe I can give you some more when I get through the dust particles in the pockets. Yeah, okay. Wish we had a little more to go on. Well, you got a piece of lead pipe, a stained shirt, and an ax, it looks like it's been recently used. Yeah. They all connect somewhere along the line. Yeah, all we got to do is find out where. 2.58 p.m., Frank and I drove out to the Consolidated Central Laundry. We talked to the manager and he looked through the files. He was able to tell us that the shirt had been laundered at a small cleaning place on South Hill. He gave us the address and Frank and I drove over. We talked to the manager at the shop. Uh-huh. Yeah, it's our number, all right. Pastor, would it be possible for you to tell us who owns the shirt? Yeah, I'll look it up in the book. Let's see, aren't you... 769-02. Mm-hmm, that's right. Let's see, 642. 987. Yeah, yeah, here it is. John Dunlap, address out on Third Street. Say, what do you want to know about the shirt for? Dunlap, done something? Oh, we're just conducting an investigation here. Oh. I wonder if you'd describe this Dunlap for us. Oh, sure. I know. John, for years, has been bringing us things in here for at least eight, maybe nine years. Could you give us a description of anything? Yeah, John, it's about, uh... about my size, maybe five-eleven. It weighs about 180. How about his coloring? Huh? His coloring. Is he dark or light-complexed? Oh, yeah. Well, I guess you'd say maybe sort of medium. Yeah, medium. Does he have any marks or scars on him? Anything unusual about him? Well, if you asked me that yesterday, I'd have said no. How's that? Well, up till this morning... Well, John came in this morning, and there was nothing that made him stand out up till then. He must have had an accident over the weekend, I guess. I don't understand. He came in this morning, his face was all scratched up. You are listening to Dragnet, the authentic story of your police force in action. We like to give the facts about Chesterfield, so you can be your own judge. Chesterfield is the first and only cigarette to give you premium quality in both regular and king size. Chesterfield is the first and only cigarette to tell you what it's made of. The world's best tobaccos. Kept tasty and fresh by pure and costly moisture. Kept tasty and fresh by pure and costly moistening agents. The best that money can buy. And Chesterfield's cigarette paper is of the highest purity. Now, Chesterfield is the first cigarette to present this scientific evidence on the effects of smoking. A medical specialist is making regular, bimonthly examinations of a group of people from various walks of life. 45% of this group have smoked Chesterfield for an average of over 10 years. After eight months, the medical specialist reports that he observed no adverse effects on the nose, throat, and sinuses of the group from smoking Chesterfield. I'd say that means real mildness. Either way you like them, regular or king size, you'll find premium quality Chesterfields much milder. Monday, 5.30 p.m., Frank and I ran the name John Dunlap through R&I. We found no record on anyone answering his description. Meantime, the stake out on Wallace Holmes' apartment where we found the bloodstained shirt continued. Ray Pinker had finished the test on the shirt and found that most of the blood on it was Type B. However, there were also small traces of Type O. The tests on the dust particles found in the pockets of the shirt netted us nothing. 6.15 p.m., we drove out to the address given us by the cleaning shop. It was a large apartment building. Dunlap was registered in the penthouse. We took the elevator up and rang the bell. Yeah? John Dunlap? That's right. What can I do for you? Police officers, would you like to talk to you? Police? What do you want with me? Just like to talk to you. My partner Frank Smith, my name's Friday. I do, I do. You mind if I go ahead and get dressed while we talk? I've got a date and I don't want to be too late. No, it's all right. Go right ahead. Come on in here. What is it I can do for you, officers? I wonder if you can explain your movement Saturday night. Saturday night? Yes, sir. Let's see, I played golf in the morning, got back from the club about six, I guess. A miserable game, 102, lost $35. Sure was off Saturday. Just a minute, sir. You tell us what clothes you want. We'll get them for you. Hand me that shirt there, the blue one, huh? Sure, a miserable game Saturday, three put it almost every green. Nice-looking shirts done, man. Like them? Well, they're nice-looking. Where do you get them? I haven't made, can't wear storm-made shirts. Next to a long collar doesn't fit right. What'd you do after you got home from the golf club? Took a shower, then went out, had a date. Lazy game ruined the whole evening. Sir? Well, after that crummy 102, I really played the 19th hole, got pretty loaded. At the time I got to Alice's, I was in a rare mood. Alice? Yeah, Alice, Alice Miller. Anyway, I was about half hour late and she was fit to be tied. We're supposed to have dinner out in Malibu. Took about an hour to drive out there, and Alice kept getting mad as we drove. I guess I didn't help things out any. I was in a foul mood and didn't keep it to myself. Yeah. Well, by the time we got there, really going at it, silly thing. No sense to the argument at all, but it just kept building. You the one that you married? Yes, sir. My partner here is. Well, then he knows what I mean. Well, we didn't get down to the beach till about 8.30 or 9. We got out of the car, and Alice said she wanted me to take her back home. I told her we'd just gotten there. She said she didn't care, wanted to go home. Yeah. I told her if she wanted her leave, it was okay with me, and I turned around to walk down to the house. You know, it's pretty dark down there. Uh-huh. While I walked right over the embankment, I must have fallen off about six, seven feet. Didn't hurt myself much, but you can see I scratched up my face. Yeah, we can. Well, the long one, though, I guess it was worth it. How's that? Alice was so scared she ran down to me, and the argument was all over. We went on into the house and had dinner. How long were you there? Well, I guess until, uh, well, maybe 2.30, 3 in the morning. Got to playing charades. Time just went. You happen to know what blood type you have. What? Your blood type. Do you know what it is? I think it's A, but I'm not sure, though. You said you had your shirts made to order, huh? Yeah, that's right. Why? Can you tell us how someone else might have gotten one of your shirts? Wait a minute. I don't think I understand just what's going on. What is this all about? You come in here and ask a lot of questions. What's it all for? Just routine. Routine what? It's not routine for me to have policemen come in and ask a lot of questions. Where was I Saturday night? Who makes my shirts? Who might have had them? Come on. What's the pitch? All right. You know a man named Mark Williams? Williams? No, Tom Williams sells insurance. No, Mark Williams. No, I don't think I know him, Mark. Anyway, what's he got to do with this? He was killed Saturday night. You figure maybe I did? Well, a shirt that belongs to you was found near the scene. My shirt? That's right. Same label. Check the laundry markings in it. Your laundry man said it was your shirt. Said it was your number. You talk to Harry? Yeah, that's his name. I guess we did. I don't understand it. Hey, wait a minute. Yes, sir. I gave a half a dozen shirts to the woman who comes in to clean up the place. She might know what happened. Let me call her and find out. I've got her number here someplace. Yeah, here it is. If anybody knows, she would. A couple of weeks ago, told her she could have them. I don't know what to matter with. Hello? Mrs. Lambert in, please? Yeah, thank you. Hello, Mrs. Lambert? This is John Dunlap. Oh, just fine. And you? That's good. No, no, I just want to know what you did with those shirts you took a couple of weeks ago. Well, no, Mrs. Lambert. I did give them to you. I just want to know what you did with them. Uh-huh. I see. Well, can you give me the address? Well, just a minute. I'll get a pencil. Do you have a pencil, officer? Yeah. Thank you. Now, go ahead, Mrs. Lambert. Uh-huh. Four-seven? All right. Thank you. No or not. Don't you worry. Everything's all right. Yeah, well, thank you, Mrs. Lambert. Yeah, I'll see you then. Right. Goodbye. A real character thought I wanted the shirts back. Did she tell you what she did with them? Yeah, I said she sold them to a second-hand store down on Bixel. 7.20 p.m., we drove over to talk to the cleaning woman. She gave us the same story that we'd gotten from John Dunlap. We went over to the second-hand store, but it was closed. The stakeout on the apartment continued. The body had been posted, and the coroner told us that Williams had been killed at approximately midnight on Saturday night. That would allow two hours on either side, making it possible for the murder to take place between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. Frank and I checked out of the office and went home. The following morning, Tuesday, July 6th at 8.17 p.m., we checked the second-hand store where the shirts had been sold. The dealer told us that he remembered the shirts. He said that he'd bought five of them, and had only sold one. He was able to give us a fair description of the man he'd sold the shirt to. He went on to say that he'd heard that the man was a user of narcotics. We ran the name he gave us, Fred Harris, through R&I. He had a record of violation of the State Narcotics Act. We got on an APB and a local bulletin on him. We called Narcotics Division and notified them that we wanted Harris as a suspect. We checked the address listed on his record, but we found that he'd moved and left no forwarding address. Two days went by. We ran down all leads, but we were able to come up with nothing new. Thursday, July 8th, 8.30 a.m., Frank and I checked back into the squad room. Well, there's another one that didn't go any place. Well, there's got to be some place. I get it. Homicide Friday. Oh, yeah, Joe. Mm-hmm. Yeah. How soon will you be here? All right. Okay, right. Anything? Well, Monica and Hudson, they just picked Harris up. 11.20 a.m., Fred Harris was brought to the interrogation room. Frank and I talked to him for about an hour, but other than his name, he refused to tell us anything. We tried to lead him out. We talked about his family, about sports, food, everything we could think of. None of it worked. Harris remains sullen and uncooperative. 1.46 p.m. How about some lunch, Joe? I guess so. Harris? No. No, thanks, all right. You can suit yourself. What do you want, Joe? Well, ham on rice, all right. Get some coffee, too, huh? Okay. You sure, Harris? You don't want it, indeed? No, I told you. Okay. All right, if I smoke. Yeah, go ahead. Why don't you want to talk about it, Harris? About what? Why you killed Williams. Who says I did? That's the way it looks. It looks wrong. Well, you figured for yourself, Harris. When you killed the old man, you weren't very careful. You left a couple of prints around the place. Yeah. Shirt your wore. We got that. Found it right where you dropped it. Ran that down and it leads right to you. Got the man who sold it to you. Identifies you. Maybe he's wrong. No, you're no better than that. When they picked you up, you were carrying some of the things you stole from that pawn shop. You can't account for your time on Saturday night. I told you. I didn't do it. I didn't kill the old man. I just don't remember where I was that night. Didn't that happen to you? You go someplace and a couple of days later, you can't remember where you were. Doesn't that ever happen to you? Oh, yeah. Once in a while. Yeah, you see. How do you expect me to remember when you sometimes forget? You a user. What are you asking that for? You got the record. Look it up yourself. Roll up your sleeve. All right. You're a user. You work for a living? Yeah. Sometimes. What do you do? Whatever I can. When's your last work? A couple of weeks ago. You haven't worked since then, huh? No. Where'd you get that stuff they found on you? I don't know. Must have bought it. Any idea where? No. You bought the stuff and you don't know where. What you want me to believe? Believe what you want. I don't care. Well, here's what I believe. You tell me if I'm wrong. I think you went to the old man's pawn shop about closing time on Saturday night. You had a big yen on it. No money to make a connection. You tried to rob the old man. He didn't like it and you killed him. You killed him with that hunk of lead pipe we found. The one with your fingerprints all over it. Then you tried to get the safe open and you couldn't. So you wiped it clean, grabbed what you could carry and you ran out of the store. A couple of blocks away you calmed down and took a look at yourself. You threw that shirt in the ash can, then you went up to Wallace Holmes' apartment to try to make a connection, didn't you? He tell you all that? No. Now come on, how about it? Holmes tell you that? Now look, you're a little mixed up, aren't you? You just answer. You don't ask. Sure he told you. You never found out if he did my big pal Wallace Holmes. After all I'd done for him. If I had a nickel for every pop I shared with that bum and he cops out on me, it blabs everything to you. And one guy had done anything for it. Give the guy the shirt off your back and this is the thanks I get. Now what's your big trouble, Harris? What do you mean? You ought to hang on to your shirts. The story you have just heard was true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. On November 15th, trial was held in Department 86, Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the county of Los Angeles. Now here is our star, Jack Webb. Thank you, George Fenerman. Friends, again this year, Chesterfield has asked me to remind you to see your own neighborhood cigarette dealer first about your Christmas shopping problems. Among many wonderful gift ideas, he's featuring the gift of the year, the Chesterfield Christmas Carton. Not a my way of thinking, it's the ideal gift because Chesterfield is the only premium quality cigarette available to you shoppers in both regular and king size. Either way, regular or king size, they're a wonderful smoke and they make fine Christmas gifts. Get them from your dealer. Premium quality Chesterfields. Fred Richard Harris was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree. He was executed in the lethal gas chamber at the State Penitentiary San Quentin, California. You have just heard Dragmet, a series of authentic cases from official files. Technical advice comes from the Office of Chief of Police, W.H. Parker, Los Angeles Police Department. Technical Advisors, Captain Jack Donahoe, Sergeant Marty Wynn, Sergeant Vance Brasher. Heard tonight were Ben Alexander, Vic Rodman, Olin Suley. Script by John Robinson. Music by Walter Schumann. Hell, give me speaking. Sound off for Chesterfields. Either way you like them, regular or king size, you'll find premium quality Chesterfields much milder. Chesterfield has brought you Dragmet, transcribed from Los Angeles. Tonight it's more adventure with Barry Craig, confidential investigator on NBC.