 Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesome-est mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor, as Detective Danny Clover. It comes to every street, and it comes to Broadway, the single moment when daytime dies, when night is just across the street. The great shadow blows in from the river, scatters, finds a corner, a doorway, a face, layers them with chill and darkness. And then it happens, the drench of neon and spinning lights and flair, and for those who need it, high above, stars of the city moon. Broadway flips a cigarette into the gutter, and runs into the night. The night was hours old where I was. It came sooner and stayed longer. Basement apartment, West 49th, and the simple statement from a frightened man. I don't care what you think. That girl lying there. I didn't kill her. I didn't strangle her. The fact that you called the police, Mr. Lehigh, is a point in your favor. What do you think I'm pointing with? Your game or something? A point in my favor? A point? What are you talking about points for? I didn't kill her. You know who this girl is? Sure, I go Irene Hall. She's an entertainer. Hall? What do you mean, Hall? What about it? I know an entertainer. That makes me a murderer. She was a cute personality and she attracted me, so I made a date with her. How did you happen to find her, Mr. Lehigh? I had a date with her at 11 o'clock, about half hour ago. I knocked on the door. I heard her crying out like she was being heard. I kicked in the door. Come here. Come on, come on, just step around here. Yeah, yeah. On that pocketbook on the floor. Yeah, yeah. I've got a lady's face part on my shoes already from that mess. Feel her cheek. Go ahead. Yeah. Cold, huh? I'm going to tell you something. This girl's been dead for a couple of hours, at least that long. Are you trying to trick me or something? I'm telling you, I heard her cry out. She was yelling for help. You don't believe me, do you? You guys get a bang out of roughing up strangers in town. Nobody's roughing up. I'm just asking you a few questions, that's all. Like how long have you been a stranger in town? A week. From Cleveland, the convention. Patent medicine boys. I'm in vitamin concentrate. And this girl entertained at one of your meetings, is that right? Yeah. Came right after the magician. Last night she did a queen of sheba. Got rolled out in the rug. A real cute personality. Look, mister, whoever killed little Irene, walked right out of that back door there to that courtyard. Then he walked away. Please, don't ask me any more questions. Leave me alone. I got to have time to adjust my thoughts. Then the intrusion of those sounds of night that attend violence. The furtive gathering of crowd outside the basement apartment. And the sudden shriek of a woman's laughter from a party upstairs. That for an instant stills the night, then bursts, drifts the street. And the screech that is the arrival of the official probers into death. And their entrance into the apartment. Watch them briefly as they pry. As they lift possessions of the dead girl, hold them up to the light. Then as they bend over the spilled pocketbook, finger its contents, scrape the spilled powder off the floor into small envelopes. Then leave them and lead Myron Lehigh through how to bear. And the girl in the crowd touches his coat, pierces close into his face. Grins lets him go. And at headquarters, book Myron Lehigh on suspicion of murder. Give him the night to adjust his thoughts. Then in the squad room throw a blanket over the cot and dream of sleep. Somewhere dreams and the voice that breaks it. Up, Danny. Up. Bright as the morning, so rise and shine alongside. Up, Danny. I heard you, Gino. I heard you. The surprises this day that has dawned has in store for you, Danny. The surprises. Like what? Like a container steamy coffee, like a frosty crawler, which I sneaked out to the corner to get for you. Once information was passed to me, you slumbered on a steel cot. Can you go to the cot table there, Danny? I laid it out for you. Thanks, Gino. Tastes good. Thanks again. A flower across the cruller. I thought it an added touch to start your day. A baby blue bachelor button to sport in your wrinkled lapel. You're very thoughtful, Gino. I try. Well, you are sufficiently cleared of cobwebs, Danny, to indulge me in the events that have passed in the night. Go right ahead. Thank you. According to our good Dr. Sinski, you were indeed correct in your diagnosis. Irene Hall had indeed been dead for a couple hours before your arrival, death by strangulation, bruises on the throat and other like symptoms. What else? What else is that the deceased Irene Hall is an entertainer who was booked out of the Wentworth theatrical agency on West 47. As Muggevin was on Night Watch last night, he gathered this information from various sources. What else did he gather? The notes various of our good detectives have made on the questioning of the people at the party upstairs and the killing. All her alibis has had the other tenants. They are all sad, Miss Hall is dead. She was a cute girl, they said. Where's Muggevin now? Waiting for your beck and call. Well, tell them to meet me in Myron Lehigh cell. Oh, yes, Gino. I enjoyed the breakfast you laid out for me. What's it to do for you, Mr. Lehigh? It tones up the system of vitamins. Gives you the old pep and vinegar. That's why it's called... Have a seat, Danny. Mr. Lehigh was just telling me about the patent medicine he peddled. It's called Tired Go because it makes you peppy. I could send a whole bottle of the large economy size right now. You think it's fun spending a night in jail? You were married, ma'am, Mr. Lehigh? Tell him, Mr. Lehigh. I told you, didn't I? The kid going to college and a scholarship, Danny. Yeah, nice to have a kid like that. What do you want now? Start all over again, Mr. Lehigh. Tell us about last night. I told him I just finished telling Detective Muggevin. The tenant clover wasn't here. The story very badly. You tell him. I had a date with Irene Hall. I was to meet her at her apartment at 11 o'clock. I knocked on the door. Irene screamed. I kicked in the door. Irene was dead. I called the police. What did you do last evening before you went to Ms. Hall's place? Walked around, you know. No, I don't know. Do you know Danny? Walked around. That's what I'm telling you. I did. I don't know what else to call it. And Cleveland will be calling around. Walking around doing what? Peddling Tired Go or what? Look, we don't pedal. We self-direct the cut-rate chains. What time did you have dinner? Early. Five o'clock. Then what did you do? And don't tell us you were walking around. I had dinner and I went next door and I had a drink. One drink. Then I went to another bar or had another drink. Where were you at nine o'clock? How do I know? You better know, Mr. Lehigh. Nine o'clock is when your date was strangled. I don't know where you were. Mr. Clover doesn't know where you were. Somebody ought to know where you were. I was in a bar. I was drinking. What bar? I was in a lot of bars on Broadway. I didn't look at their names. You heard that girl cry out, huh? Yeah, I heard. What do you think? I'm lying to you. You still think that, don't you? Look, fellas, I got a wife and a nice daughter. He told us, Mr. Lehigh. She got a scholarship to college. Your family must be real proud. And leave him. Leave the man whose tasting of a city has been distilled in the violence and death of the accusation of murder. Leave him in a room whose walls have been scarred with chalk protests, the derision of the guilty, the flaking of the innocent. And leave him with the image of the girl the city had promised him and whose death was an end to the promise. Going out of the Wentworth theatrical agency on West 47 to sift the night particles of a girl's life that had spun her dying to assemble the shadows that had touched her in passing. Maybe you could do that here. In the office fashioned out of a brownstone hall bedroom. Here with the pictures of sparkling personalities clustered on yellowing walls. And the messages of love and gratitude scrawled on them. To Laurie Wentworth, the sweetest agent of them all. To Laurie, all of the best. To Laurie without whom. And Laurie preening, purring in the warm glow of it all. My babies, Mr. Clover. Every one of them are little chicks. Little founding chicks. Cutie pies, huh? You get work for them, Mr. Wentworth. Well, I try. Sometimes all our special talent isn't appreciated, but I try. A convention hits town. A large needs a few specialties to raise money for funds. I spent years scrounging around. Now the fund raises are getting to North. What about Irene Hall? Oh, cream of the crop was my little Irene. I'll miss her. You just don't know, Mr. Clover, how my little Irene is going to be missed. You just can't know. Tell me anything about her, anything that will help. Well, I heard on the radio that you're holding a killer. What else do you need to know about her? Well, she came from how? She came to you, who her friends were? Things like that. Well, she came from I never asked. All I know is one day, well, maybe three years ago, she was standing there in the doorway, right there. Like she didn't know what the door right to come in. I took her hand in mine. I told her it was all right. Then she showed me the pictures she carried under her arm. Then I signed the right oath. And not too long after, entertainment committees called me. As for her, I didn't care what else I gave him, as long as I gave him my Irene. And that's all you know about her? Well, I know I should never have booked her for that patent medicine blow-off. Then my Irene wouldn't be dead at the hands of a medicine man. Nothing more? Well, I know she didn't make the date I booked for her last night. A little private affair dinner party. How did you know that? Because Barbara phoned me. I asked her if she could come up. And could she please do her specialty? That's the rug bit, as the Queen of Sheba. I said, sure, Barbara. You do it. Barbara? Barbara Landon. That cutie pie, see? See up there? That one there. Pitch it in the feathers? Mm-hmm. Yeah. Well, she and Irene were buddies, covered for each other's routines, in case one of the other had reason not to show up on a date. You have her address? Sure, sure. I write it down for you. You give her a message, huh? Oh, arriving routines now. Why you come bothering me, Mr. I got enough to do around here. I told you, I want you to open the door to Miss Landon's room. All you had to do was beat on the door real loud, scream a few sayings. It wakes up that Miss Landon every time. I know, from the times I got to do this, just to call her to the whole phone. Oh, that Miss Landon's a sleeper. Here, I'll show you. Hey, Landon! Just unlock it, huh? Yeah, yeah. Sides it saves wear and tear. Oh, perfume with this booze in the room. A man could get a hangover just from the aroma. There she is, Mr. stretched out on the bed. Go on, wake her. I want to stand here and watch you how you do it. Miss Landon, Miss... Well, go on, Mr. Shake her up good. The load she must have souped up last night you got it. Here, here. I'll show you how to get a reaction. Hey, Landon! Hey! Leave her alone. What you said you... Oh, look. Look at her show. Yeah, look. Dead. Strangled to death. While listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover, send it once for that wonderful free convention handbook offered by Time Magazine and CBS Radio. It will help you to follow the conventions and their procedures intelligently and easily. It's profusely illustrated and written by Time's top writers. All you have to do is send a postcard with your name and address to Time CBS Chicago 90 Illinois. That's Time CBS Chicago 90 Illinois. The midday light of Maytime blows gently. Broadway shimmers. Langer walks the street, rhythm to the pulsing of May wind, and its perfumed silk rustles softly. The hawkers yawn their spills. The loudspeakers drone. There's the slow dance of litter in the gutters. A day in May, a day to melt in your mouth, a day to ride the rides, crowd the midway, toss the hoop, win the ham. So wait for it on the corner, kid. Hold it close. It can slip right through your fingers. For the girls sprawled across your bed, the day offers only a dying in a dazzle of room. The streaking of sunlight and shadow that pattern our body. The wind that takes her hair drifts it across her bruised throat. This was all of Maytime for Barbara Landon. How long are we going to stand here just looking at her, mister? Don't worry about it. I ain't worried. That's your department. All I know is the management like me to clear up things like this quick spot. I told you, don't worry about it. Anything the mister says. She's been dead for quite a while. I wouldn't know about such things. Tell me what you do know. I got a name. It's Marv Norman. I got a job managing this apartment house. I read papers, listen to the radio, collect the garbage of the tenants. Nights, I sit on the stoop and no one talks to me. This I'll tell you. Yee, carefree. Lots of gentlemen friends. To her, I was adoring not a mat with the word welcome. All done are here. Well, yes, in this apartment, we are now... Come on, mister. Did Miss Landon have a caller last night? Through it. Other times open. It's the hall phone, mister. Father, any things? Hello. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, she's here. Hold on a minute, huh? Yeah. Guy asking for Miss Landon, mister. Of course he's the way I played it, huh? Don't say she's dead. Don't say a cop's here. Don't... Yeah, go far. Hello? Hey, what is this? How many watchdogs are you going to go through to get the bar? This is the police. Barber. Who are you? Social. Where are you now? Stay there. I'll be up in a while. How will I know you? So again, the brief wait. Again, the men civically supported who attended the leaving of violent death. The white-coated ones, the blue-surged ones, the cigar smoker, and the funny fellow who thought of just the thing to say all the way down from headquarters. And they swarmed, and they photographed, and they measure. Leave them. Death is in the hands of the professionals. Down into the streets now, on the ride to Bryant Park, past the benches and back of the library and the sitters, the students scanning the required reading. Oldsters with eyes closed to the warming sun. Park the car and to the drugstore. Bryant's shirt is rummaging through a table marked any item in this display tent. Just looking. I'm waiting for some. I'm waiting for... I'm Danny Clover. What was all that mystery over the phone? She's dead. What are you talking? It's our last night. How can you stand there and tell me that? I asked you if she's dead, and I was with her last night. Can you lock me up? We'll see. I told you, I was with her. She never liked for me to call. I'm a waiter. She likes me. Tables where she worked last night and met her a few blocks away. No, no, no. That isn't it. She had a crazy notion. That's all. She didn't like me coming around for her. Afraid somebody will recognize me. I was a waiter, and river, she goes out with a waiter. She was entertaining last night? Yeah, doing a sheave a bit for the good. Hey. Her friend Irene was strangled too. Last night, too. And I'll wait a minute. Don't get me mixed up. You know Irene? I met her once or twice, that's all. All right. You picked Barbara up last night. What did you do? About the same. Like what? Went for a ride, parked along the river. Did you drink? She did. She liked it. I brought along a bottle. She liked it, mister. I was her date. I brought along a bottle. You know something? I as good as killed her. Well, she asked me to come up to her place and finish the bottle. I didn't go. She was loaded. I didn't like to sleep it off. If I hadn't gone home, she'd be alive right this minute. You're not crazy about my story, huh? You got to go downtown? Yeah, for a while. Let's go. Danny Clover speaking. Welcome to me, Gordon. Man is man is. Aren't you even going to ask how I am today? How I feel? How I slept last night? Whether I'm happy here amongst all my expensive equipment? All right, are you happy, Gordon? Listen, Lieutenant. If you run around a lot, you meet a lot of people, all kinds of people. We've been working together for a long time. What am I calling you, Lieutenant, poor Danny? What do you want? Happens a friend of mine's coming in from out of town. I've been writing him what a good time can be had in New York. I got to show him a good time, Danny. Hand? You trying to bait me, Lieutenant? In the squad room, they tell me you've got a little black book, Gordon. Just the other day, you were explaining the code beside the names. You're not going to help me, huh? You're going to let me make a joke out of myself in front of my friends? Why did you call me down here for, Gordon? I'll show you. Come here. Three microscopes. You want a peek or you want me to handle it for you? Lieutenant. You tell me. On the stage of microscope one, face powder spilled on the floor in the apartment of Irene Hall. On two, face powder taken from the face of Irene Hall. On three, face powder from the face of Barbara Landon. What about him? What about him, Lieutenant, says? The Lieutenant who gets around. I'll tell you what about him. One and three match, one and two don't. Then the powder spilled out of that purse wasn't Irene's, it was Barbara's. Splendid. Do you mind if I add something? You don't mind. That spilled powder on the floor in Irene Hall's apartment didn't come out of Irene's purse. It was that other girl's, Barbara's. Thanks, Gordon, you helped a lot. See what I mean? You've been around lots of girls. What about my other town friend, Danny? Danny Boy? You didn't help that much. Okay, this cell guard. Open up. Thanks, I'll call you if I want you in here, Russ. Are you giving me a cellmate? Inside. Wake up, Mr. Lehigh. Come on. Come on. Get up, I want you to meet somebody. This is Russ Field, Mr. Lehigh. What do I have to meet him for? When am I getting out of here? You choose him, Mr. Lehigh, I'm not. You two have got something in common. Both of you are being held for a double murder and of the same two girls. I'm here, Mr. Field, let me shake your hand, brother. Am I glad to see you? They really go stir-crazy fast around here, Clover. They get used to it, kid, if one of us killed two girls, it's got to be you, because it wasn't me. He's the killer, Mr. Clover, I saw him. I saw him run out of there. He said he saw Mr. Lehigh. Why didn't you tell me this before, Mr. Lehigh? They just saw him coming out of Irene's apartment. I didn't see him. I was lying. Come on, Clover, let me get out of here. You've got your boy. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What? You said there were two girls. What two girls? Irene Holland. What two girls? The name is Barbara Landon. I don't even know her. How could I kill her? Anyhow, I was in jail. You were in jail at midnight last night. Irene was killed about nine o'clock last night. Barbara Landon was killed at eleven. I didn't kill, I didn't kill. Poor guy. Poor guy, what am I saying? A killer and I call him poor guy. Okay, Clover, I met your boy. You've had your fun. Let's get out of here. Tell me again how you were out with Barbara last night. What you did? Well, sure. You met her? Park? She got loaded? I took her home. You met her from work, huh? Sure, just like I told you. No stops anywhere, huh? Just the park. Short stop. She got loaded fast. You've got to believe me. You've got to believe me. My wife, my kid going to college. You want a scholarship? You don't think the father is a smart kid like that? I didn't do it. I didn't. I didn't. A sloppy killer. A dad. What kind of killer are you, Russ? What? Barbara Landon was at Irene's apartment last night. What are you talking about? Mr. Lehigh. What do you want? What do you want? You tell me what happened last night. I had a date with Irene Hall. I was to meet her at her apartment at eleven o'clock. I knocked on the door. Irene screamed. I kicked in the door. Irene was dead. I called the police. I had a date with Irene Hall. It wasn't Irene you heard screaming. It was Barbara. Our technical department showed me proof that Barbara was there. Guard? Go home, Mr. Lehigh. Go back to Cleveland. All I did was have a date with her. Go home. My turn to go home now? Huh? Wait a minute. We've got a few more things to talk about. What? Didn't like Barbara, did you? No. She got drunk. She always got drunk. She was no fun. But Irene was different, wasn't she? A nice girl. Then why'd you kill her? You did kill her, Russ. Didn't she like you? You didn't mean to kill her, did you? You killed her and you stayed with her. I'll tell you. I'll tell you why. I was talking to her. I was trying to tell her I didn't mean it. I was staying there just to make myself believe it didn't happen. And then when Barbara rang the bell... You didn't meet her after work, did you? And when Barbara came and rang the bell, I opened the door and tried to explain it to her. When I was talking, someone else knocked on the door. Must have been that little guy who was just here. Barbara started to scream. I hit her. She fell down, spilled everything all over the place. Friendly, I started to kick in the door. You dragged Barbara away. Yeah. I strangled her in my car and poured booze all over her and took her home. Then I went home and I went to sleep. That's the way it was, sir. Just like I told you. I swear it was. Just like that. Now you're going to let me out of here. Now let me out. It's the street of the hunter, this Broadway, of the smile that's dropped at the tip of a hat. And the lights are flung from windows out of doorways and you walk a pavement spangled with a thousand colors. But between the lights, that's where darkness is. It's Broadway, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway, my beat. The Way's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tertaglia and Jack Krushan as Muggevin. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, High Everback was heard as Russ Field and Herb Butterfield as Myron Lehigh. Featured in the cast were Martha Wentworth, Ed Max and Junius Matthews. This is only a rumor, but they say the Secretary of the Treasury recently visited Jack Benny's underground vault to reassure himself that there's a healthy cash reserve in case the government runs short. This much is certain. America's in no danger of running short of laughs just as long as Jack Benny time keeps rolling along Sunday nights on CBS Radio. Phil Anders speaking. And remember, my friend Irma, live enjoy Sundays on the CBS Radio Network.