 Broadway's my beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the godliest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's my beat, with Larry Thor, as Detective Danny Quill. Broadway, where a pale and hungry girl walks like a queen because Broadway's a dream street, where a fat man stands with begging eyes because he knows his dreams will never come true. It's a cry or a laugh, but nothing in between. Either way, it's my beat. On special detail, there are no special hours. Don was at the window of my office at police headquarters when I scribbled my last report. An out-of-town schoolteacher was trying to beat the heat by using Columbus Circle for a burlesque runway. I buried that one behind a convenient fan. Bid the boys a fond bourgeois and started home at the side entrance. I didn't make it. All I saw of sunrise was in an alley. The alley reserved for police ambulances coming home to the morgue. The voice stopped me and invited me in. Danny, Danny, come here. The man who stood silhouetted in the slice of light was a man who called himself Capek, a freelance photographer who hung around headquarters. You never knew he was there, but he always was. The quality of Don Danny, who can hold it? Who can imprison it? It is the eternal intonadema for a photographer. Why don't you go home then, Capek? What keeps you here? That ambulance, perhaps. You see, creative men like me have a devotion. It is always the same. Perfection. Everything neat and perfection. Oh, so that's what it is. I watch that stretchin', Joe. Yeah, okay. Hi, Danny. Hi, what do you got, boys? Suicide. Guy jumped in front of an eight-dab in your subway. I didn't know anything about it. Well, not your department, Danny. See you later. See what I mean, Danny? Neat and perfection. The man they're bringing in, for instance. What's neat about him? That was Jimmy Dorn, a Cinderella man who only the other day won $17,000 on the Irish sweepstakes. What? You must have read about him. How no newspaper and no newsreel could get a picture of him. Yeah, I remember he was shy. I liked him for that. But I have a picture of him. Oh. Hmm. Dead or alive? Alive, of course. Dead is for any hack with a brownie. Got her with you? Mind if I see it? No harm, I've already sold it to the news. Here, here, look at it, Danny. Not the delicate play of light and shadow. The exquisitive. And this guy looks happy. I never seen anybody look that happy. Because Capec took it at the moment of Jimmy Dorn's greatest joy, the supreme ecstasy of winning $17,000. Yeah, to each his own. How did you get it when no one else could? Hmm. The famous Capec tact? It cost me $50 to arrange it. But the news paid me twice that. That much, huh? When Mr. Dorn committed suicide, it raised the price. You see, in the newspaper game one must... Yeah, excuse me, Capec. Danny Clover, give me the dope on a suicide name of Jimmy Dorn. Yeah, I know it's not my department. I'm nosy. Yeah. Yeah. Lily Dorn. Third Avenue. Okay, that's enough. You have to look, Danny. You smell something, maybe? Maybe. Be with you in a second, Capec. Hello, Benny. Danny Clover. That's Jimmy Dorn's suicide. Tell the chief I'm going to look into it. Yeah, Benny, I know. It bothers me. Sure, I'll grab some sleep on the subway. I asked you, Danny, you smell something, maybe? Why should a guy let a subway train make his wife a widow with $17,000 often? Why should all that sudden don't make him want to commit suicide? Is it such a secret why men destroy themselves? Yeah. To me, it's not neat, Capec. It just ain't neat. Third Avenue is a tenement five-storey high and miles long. At nine o'clock in the morning, it was going full blast. The elevated housewives hunched in open windows, kids flipping pennies against the wall, and every seven minutes, it screams. Somewhere between Sam Chew's hand laundry, special attention-paid dupleted dress shirts, and the blue-star delicatessen, cream soda and hot pastrami, two bits. Somewhere between there was a doorbell. I pushed it. Yeah? What do you want? My name's Danny Klover. I want to see Mrs. Dorn. Suddenly, everybody wants to see Mrs. Dorn. Suddenly, I'm a popular lady. I'm from a police, Mrs. Dorn. You guys don't quit, do you? All right. Come on in. You want to know how it is to win $17,000. Is that what you want to know? Look, Mrs. Dorn, I'm sorry about your husband. Oh, sure. You can feel any way you like. Tell me about your husband. Jimmy? Yeah. I'll tell you about him. Jimmy didn't like people. He got afraid of them once, and he never got over it. Why? You know, I don't know. He was always running, and I ran with him. I was his wife, Mr. Klover. I didn't need to know any more than that. But maybe you understood why he refused to see any reporters, when he won all that money. Listen, my husband was a frightened little man who won a sweepstakes. He bought him an obituary. That doesn't tell me much. This room tells me more. This rat hole. This room says that, doesn't it? Rat hole. I didn't say that, Mrs. Dorn. I'm talking about that circus poster on the wall. Patsy Mack presents the three whirling tornadoes. Was your husband a whirling tornado? You can go now, policeman. You said your questions. Now go. Brody, please. Why didn't you stay in that room? They can't do anything more to us now. Come right on in, mister. Who are you? I'm a clever boy. I don't win sweepstakes, but I stay alive. Yeah, real clever. Now, what about this circus poster? It covers the cracks in the plaster. Three whirling tornadoes. Three men riding motorcycles in a barrel. Mrs. Dorn, for a frightened man, your husband made a dangerous dollar. Look, I told you all I know. Maybe you ought to get out of here. Why should a poster come between us, Mrs. Dorn? We were getting along fine. You had the lady copper. She's saying she's finished talking. That right, Mrs. Dorn? Yes. What did you say? I said that's right. Maybe I should have let it alone, got some sleep, but it kept eating at me. When I found out Jimmy Dorn rode a motorcycle in a barrel, everybody got unhappy. I don't like it when it gets unhappy. So I took a walk and found myself on Broadway in front of a tired building that has a lot of names. You take your choice. You walk up four flights and you get four offers. You're perfect for a fairytale ballet that's opening in New York. You make a stunning cover on a muscle magazine. Can you play First Trumpet with a Bop-A-Wine outfit? You've got a song that's crying to be published, all with a slight fee of course. And on the fifth floor, you find what you were looking for. The office of Patsy Mack, promoter, entrepreneur and a dollar begotter. Well, it is in Danny Clover. Hi, Patsy. You still pound the stem, Danny? Aren't you ever going to be promoted? Promotion means a desk job away from Broadway. Who wants that? Yeah, I know what you mean. Can I give you something? Oh, great juice to be keen. I've got three fingers left of a bottle given me by a bearded lady who was enamored of my social standing. It'll bring a smile to your lips. You drink it, Patsy, and thank her for me, Patsy. Center a dozen blue roses, or is it red roses for a bearded lady? Yeah, I'll do that. She'll appreciate it. She loves delicate things. Oh, don't they all? Patsy, tell me a story. Okay, and let me see. Oh, have you heard the one about... Yeah, tell me the one about the three whirling tornadoes. The three tornadoes? What fond corner of your memory clutched onto them? Tell me a bottom. Well, I don't remember much a bottom, Danny. They've been out of the business a long time. The three tornadoes, huh? Well, there were three of them. Thanks. There was no one else connected to them. Oh, no, no. The tornadoes ran their own carny toward the villages and the metropolises. Patsy, you've got a reputation for remembering every act that ever played a circus or carnival. What for their names? Oh, you put me on my metal, boy. Now, let me see. There was a... Let me see. Jimmy Dorn. Dorn. Yeah, I think. Could he be the one who ended up under a subway this morning? I'll look into it. Who were the others, Patsy? Well, there was a fella named... Let me see. A russian kind of a name. Danilov. Yeah, that's it. Joe Danilov. Joe Danilov. And the third? Oh, now you're pressing me, boy. The third was a man named... Let me see. Brady? No, no, no. Could it have been Brody? Brody, Brody, that's it. Well, how'd you know, Danny? Brady, Brody, it's a short jump. I'll try real hard. You're sure there was no one else connected with the act? Well, I come to think of it. There was another guy. Yeah? What do you think? Oh, his name doesn't register, Danny. This guy whose name doesn't register? Was it you? Oh, are you kidding? I had nothing to do with the tornado. Well, thanksy. Thanks a lot. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Patsy. And a liar. I left Patsy there waving his jaw at nothing, which was about what I had. Nothing. An ex carnival performer wins $17,000 and dies under the wheels of a subway train. They say he jumped. Why should he do a fatal thing like that? Why should Patsy lie to me? A one-sheet poster said, Patsy Mac presents the three whirling tornadoes and Patsy had just told me he had nothing to do with the tornadoes. Well, there's another guy I know, in another place I know. His name's Pop. He takes care of the file room of a magazine. Magazine that tells a lot about people, especially the people or show people. The file room was deserted except for Pop. What you doing down here, Danny? Anglin' Pop. Oh, you don't have to hide that comic book from me. My wife packs it with my lunch, Danny. Now, you take this one. Sandra, the jungle queen. Ain't she a honey? Makes a man with men? Yeah, she's keen. What are you holding on a guy named Joe Danilov, Pop? Take a second to find out. How was that name again? Danilov Pop, D for doll, A for avenue, N for... Avenue N? Yeah, avenue N, Pop. Yeah, got it. Only, uh, you didn't spell it right, Danny. You didn't let me finish. Didn't need to. Here's the file on Joe Danilov, all right. Only it's D for dead. Let me see that. Joe Danilov, ex carnival performer, a member of the three tornadoes, was found dead today at the bottom of an elevator shaft. Danilov left no survivors, his wife having died a year ago. Hey, hey, how about this? How about what? Listen, a week before his death, Danilov came out of obscurity to win a cross-country motorcycle race with a purse of $1,000. So he made funeral expenses. That's hot news, huh? Last night, another man. A man named Jimmy Dorn came out of obscurity to win a lot of money. He died two. Two whirling tornadoes all played up, one after another. You know something, Danny? What? I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, sorry, Pop. I was playing with the jigsaw puzzle. Well, you sit right down there and do just that. I'm going upstairs for some coffee. You want some? Coffee, Danny, want some? Yeah, your coffee. Be nice, Pop. I'll just be a few minutes. Don't let anybody kidnap Sandra the Jungle Queen. Yeah, yeah. Two whirling tornadoes. The third one named Brody. Maybe you'll blow away, too. Brody and the bitter widow, Dorn, and Patsy Mac, the sweet guy who told lies. That you, Pop? I never knew what it was that slugged me on the back of my head. It wasn't a comic book. And whoever did, it wasn't Pop. Just before I hit the floor, I had a flash. It wasn't Sandra the Jungle Queen either. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat with Larry Thorne as Detective Danny Clover. A number of paying guests mysteriously disappear. Two elderly spinsters who entertain them have a suspiciously rising bank account. And it's a murder farm story for Casey crime photographer to explore on CBS Tonight. Also on CBS Tonight, you'll hear the network's famous series, Escape, in place of suspense while suspense is on summer leave of absence. Tonight's opener on Escape will be John Russell's famous story, The Fourth Man, a tale of a Pacific Islander adrift on a raft with three murderous companions. Be sure to hear Murder Farm on crime photographer and The Fourth Man on Escape tonight. They come to you on most of these same CBS stations. And now back to Broadway's My Beat. You win a lot of money or dive violently or do both and Broadway'll know all about you. What's your name and your picture in the morning editions? Then Broadway won't care anymore. But I cared. Maybe it's because I've got a cop's curious mind, but it bothered me why Jimmy Dorn died. So I made it my personal business and so far business was rotten. I was on my back when Pop brought me too. It took a little longer to find out that the press clippings I was looking at weren't around. That's a new one. Roll for some old press clippings. This needed thinking. Pop's got to eat. To eat there's a classy sidewalk café on the corner of Broadway in 47th where you stand up to a hot dog and a cup of coffee that dares you. I threw a lump of sugar at it when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Hello, Danny. Mind if I join you? Oh, a K-Pig. Not at all. Grab a napkin. Danny, somehow you look unsymmetrical today. What happened to your head? I had it done over. Your detectives always intruding yourselves into violence and danger. You're a person's unknown. You should go home and get some rest. What about you, K-Pig? Don't you get any sleep either? I am a vain man, Danny. I've been waiting for the noon edition of the news to come out. It has the picture I took of Jimmy Dorn. Look at it, Danny. Is it not a magnificent reproduction? Yeah, that's quite a picture. How'd you catch the expression? For an artist like me, it is a matter of precise timing. But somehow, underneath this picture is not right. What do you mean? I feel the caption should not read suicide. It should read murder. Oh, it makes you say that. I have captured death in my pictures for a long time, Danny. This is the face of a man whom death was about to touch with murder, not with suicide. You talk prettier, but you think like a cop. The elements for murder are three, Danny. A widow with $17,000, Danny, where are you going? I've got to make a call. Who calls on a rich widow with onions in his breath? Hey, you up there. You who? You at the window. Who, me? Yeah, you. Oh, Mrs. Dorn, isn't she home? You want somebody, mister? Mrs. Dorn, I've been ringing your bell. Where is she? Oh. You know where Mrs. Dorn went? There's no light downstairs. Her? Yeah, her. She took up 40 front feet of sidewalk, and its insides were designed to take up thousands of man-hours of loneliness. Right now, there were only three lonely people. The bartender, Mrs. Dorn and Brody. Mrs. Dorn and Brody were standing at the end of the bar trying real hard. I hated to do it, but I decided to ruin their evening potum. You don't know when to quit, do you, Clover? Why do you keep coming around? I was saying, Mrs. Dorn... Nothing, nothing at all. Yeah, you can nurse that a long time. Please, we don't want any trouble. We got all... It's this way, Mrs. Dorn. A long time ago, a man named Joe Danilov fell down an elevator shaft and was killed. Seems like he was nobody until he won a motorcycle race. Then he got his name in the papers. Then he died. What does that do to you? What should it do to her? I'll try a refresher. Joe Danilov was a whirling tornado. He belonged in your husband's bank, Mrs. Dorn. Try to react on that. I don't know what you're talking about. You got your reaction, Clover, now blow. Mrs. Dorn, you know your husband just might have been murdered. Mrs. Dorn, consider it. You've got no manners at all. All you've got is a loose mouth. Wait a minute, Brody. The man said somebody might have killed Jimmy. Do you think so, Brody? Ah, this guy's trying to put poison in your brain, Lily. Don't listen to him. You think I shouldn't, huh? Why should you listen to you, Brody? Go read a book, Copper. Go read a book and find out why I should hang around a woman who's married to my best friend, Jimmy Dorn. Maybe you're waiting for him to die. He did, didn't he? Yeah. I never thought of it before. I've got a lady who just inherited $17,000. That'll teach you, Lily. That'll teach you not to talk like that. Suck on a woman's easy, Brody. This'll be a little... Hey, what are you doing? Hey, you can't fight in here. Stop it! I'm running a Haitian joint. Oh, stop! Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily. Lily, I'm sorry. Don't cry, Lily. Please don't. Talk to him, Brody. Tell him what he wants to know. Tell him what you never told me. Why were you and Jimmy always hiding? Tell him, Brody! Take off, Copper. You've done your bit. Take off and feel filthy about the whole thing. Sure. Only you fascinate me, Brody. If you didn't shove Jimmy Dorn in front of a subway train, what keeps you alive? First Joe Danilov, then Jimmy. There's hardly a breeze left of the three whirling tornadoes. What's keeping you alive, Brody? Now there was a guy I just had to see. Capek. There was a chance he had taken more than one picture of Dorn. Maybe in the background I'd see a familiar face. Out in sea beach near Coney Island, I found the door with Capek's name on it. Oh, it's you, Danny. Come in, come in, come in. I didn't want to disturb you, Capek, but I wondered if you took any more pictures of Dorn besides the one that ran in the news. I am not like other photographers, Danny, who take dozens of pictures to get one good one. I take only one and it is always perfection. So the one in the news is the only one? Yes. It, uh... It is important that there should be other ones? It might have been... It's quite a gallery you have on the wall. Yes, yes. Come look, Danny, come look. This one, Danny. This girl who looks like a tired angel on a lonesome street. Yeah, nice. And this one, a derelict sleep in the gutter. It has the texture and the lighting of a Rembrandt, though. Capek, a man with your talent could live in a penthouse with dancing girls. Why do you live here? Hmm, I get some of my business. Hmm, I get some of my best results here. Yeah, everybody gets some. You must have got there fast for this picture. Oh, that one, yes. Well, you know my deal with the police. The minute anything violent happens, I go out with you. I get a picture. You get a body. Who was he? That is a man who was once Joe Donnellove. Donnellove? Yes, I took this picture just after he fell down the elevator shaft. The mood of finality was magnificent. Very dramatic, Capek. Donnellove was one of the three whirling tornadoes. Did you know that? So? Well, to me, Donnellove was simply a man who fell down into space and died. The picture captures this sensation, don't you think? The down-sweeping lines, the shadows like a dark caress, the broken form like some grotesque passion. Everything meets everything. I don't think Capek even saw me open the door and leave. It's a long subway ride and a transfer back to Broadway. Coming up from an underground of naked concrete into the Blair of 49th Street, well, there's a magic to it. I didn't have time to enjoy it. I had a job to do, and a chance to take. And the chance paid off. Patsy Mack was in his office, working late. OK, Danny, so I lied here about my connection with the tornadoes, and why not? First, Joe Donnellove, then Jimmy Dorn. Next, maybe me. Why should I take a chance? Just accidents, the people said. Oh, not just accidents. Danny, not that kind. Tell me, Patsy, why do you think you'll be next? I don't know. It just looks like everybody connected with the tornadoes has written down the little black book. Tell me more, Patsy. This time I'm leveling, Danny. Once I managed the tornadoes, but I dropped them like they're a basket of snakes. Why? What did they do? Remember, I told you there was another guy there back there, but he got sick. He went to a sanitarium. The tornadoes robbed him of everything he ever had. All three of them did, Danny. Yes, Donnellove, Brody and Jimmy Dorn. Donnellove and Dorn are gone. That leaves only Brody, plus the widow Dorn in 17,000 bucks. Were you ever in a sanitarium, Patsy? No. But they might put me away for slugging a cup. Oh, what do you want me to do, Danny? Cross my heart and hope to die? Something easier than that. Use your phone for me. Anything for a friend, Danny. But you are my friend, aren't you, Danny? Call Billboard for me. What? Personal ad, Patsy. A personal ad on the front page where a guy in the show business would be sure to see it. You phrase it. Phrase what? Just this. Anyone connected with the act, the whirling tornadoes, meet at the entrance to Crescent Midway on Coney Island tomorrow night at 11. Have information to wind up affairs of the tornadoes. Phone that in, Patsy. Because you say so, friend? Because the police say so. Patsy. Yeah? Sign your name to it. So I had it all set up. This case had murder in it. And I was pretty sure I knew who the murderer was. It was a matter of supplying a pigeon. That was me. The next day two things happened. The ad was on the front page of Billboard and Rain King. When I hit Coney Island 10.30 that night, it was a wet desert. Neon reflections and stragglers and empty rides. A place with shadows and peeled paint and shadows and shadows. I had to spot the killer before he spotted me. So I picked one of the darkest places under the framework of the roller coaster and walked into it. I really want into it. Danny! There's such a night you've picked to enjoy Coney Island. On a night like this it is a dismal alley. I'm in a dismal mood, Capec. That gun you're holding doesn't make it any brighter. It gives me the bravery to give orders to a policeman. You shoot me, you'll be out of character, Capec. How are you going to make it look like an accident? I have other ideas. First, I put my gun, my hand in my pocket. Now I say to you, let's go. Walk, Danny. Walk! You know, Capec, I think you lost up the job. A long time ago, you told me everything was neat and perfection. You forgot to tell me you put up the door for the whirling tornadoes before you went to the sanitarium. So you killed Dan Love and Dorne. But Brody gets away, eh? Brody in time, policeman. But first you and I take a ride on a roller coaster. Ah, wondering how you'd manage it. Neat and perfection, Danny. Now get on. Now pay for the tickets when the ride is over. In here, Danny, you get in the first car. I'll sit in the car behind you. How are you going to work this, Capec? You going to slug me and heave me over? Like I said, you can't shoot me. Then it wouldn't look like an accident. In a few seconds, when we get to the top, you will see. And I'll keep your hands to your sides, Danny. That's better. Can you get a picture of this one too, Capec? When we get to the top, you will see. The top was two seconds away. Now, Danny, stand up. Stand up. I stood up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rise, too. See how I make it look like an accident, Danny? His arm came up in a wide arc, and that was the break I was waiting for. His body arched forward a strike. I twisted, grabbed his hand and elbow and... Let go! Let go of me, Danny! How long can a roller coaster ride last? Long enough. Long enough to piece together the jagged edges of some frightened lives. Danilov and Dorn murdered. Murdered because they crossed a twisted man named Capec. Brody and Patsy Matt hugging the shadows because they were afraid of Capec's revenge. And Lily Dorn with a handful of dust and dollars. You pay for the ride here, mister. Hey, you didn't take that ride all by yourself. Yeah. A little while later, an ambulance came and picked up the dead broken body of Capec. They took a picture of him, too. I caught a ride back to Broadway in a prowl car. It stretches out in front of you, this street called Broadway, like a midway to some cruel and fantastic circus. And you're the performer. You can walk the high wire or play it safe in a cage. Me? I guess my dodge is the wire. The goddess, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Broadway's My Beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover is produced and directed by Gordon T. Hughes with script by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. Musical direction is by Lud Blusken. Be sure to join us again next week same time, same station for Broadway's My Beat. In just a few minutes on most of these same CBS stations, you'll be hearing the familiar strains of someday I'll find you. And the action, as you know, starts with Mr. Keen, the famed tracer of lost persons. A top-rating detective throughout radio's fall, winter, and spring seasons, Mr. Keen will be on hand all summer. So don't miss one of his great cases these Thursday nights on CBS. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.