 Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Highland with another true story of crime. Listen. A man walking along a cobbled street in Whitechapel. It's an April evening and a pleasant one. A spring rain has just finished and the street lamp spread skins of light over the wetted pavements. Stroll. Nowhere in particular. Hanbury Street is as good as any other. But look there. The young woman waiting. Yes, won't you? If it ain't old saucy you as self. Pleasant night, ain't it? Walking where you? I walk along with you, you won't mind. I like April, don't you? The rain makes everything fresh and nice, don't it? Oh, now there's a pretty garden, ain't it? Flowers already... Tonight my report to you on... Good evening. My name is Jack the Ripper. Crime Classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Highland. Connoisseur of crime, student of violence and teller of murders. Now once again, Mr. Thomas Highland. Here was 1888 and the place was London. The first murder had taken place on April 3rd and was not reported in the London Times. The woman's name was Emma Elizabeth Smith and she had blonde hair. I have blonde hair, too. The second murder took place not far from the first near the groveyard buildings in Whitechapel. The woman's name was Martha Tabrum and the police noted that she died exactly the same way as Emma Elizabeth Smith. Horribly, by knife. To be noted, Martha had blonde hair, too, and her eyes were dark. My eyes are dark, too. Third murder, August 31st, Buck's Row, also in Whitechapel. Horribly, by knife died Anne Nichols. To be noted, Anne had blonde hair and her eyes were dark and there was a gaiety about her. Not dark eyes and my hair is blonde. My name is Mary Jane Kelly. And you want a room, dearie? Yes. Yes, I do. You come with me then. Pretty room for a pretty girl. Where are you from, dearie? Well, I was born in Limerick and 16 when I went to Wales. Now you've come to London. I've been to Paris. Now you've come to London. What for? I've been all over. And how many places the police looking for you, dearie? Whatever do you say? Pretty like you. A room like this. Oh, I don't mind. Is there a way to come through? Through the back. Oh, this will do nice. The neighborhood in which Mary Jane Kelly found a room may be best described as a slum. A rose of poor lodging houses dedicated to the proposition that it is more difficult to find a criminal in a swarm. Mary's room number, oddly enough, was 13. I never was a superstitious kind. Just to have fun. That's all I like. Live and have fun. The room itself was a straw mattress and a chair to fling one's clothes over. Now, at this instant, this precise time when Mary Jane Kelly entered her room three blocks away on Hanbury Street, you remember a man walking along a cobbled street April evening after rain, stroll, but look there. Yes, won't you? Said the young woman who was waiting, whose name was Annie Chapman. If it ain't always saucy, you yourself. Pleasant night, ain't it? Walk in, will you? I walk along with you, you won't mind. I like April, don't you? And the rain makes everything fresh and nice, don't it? Oh, now, there's a pretty garden, ain't it? Flowers already. I got a new roomer today. Oh, that's nice. A sailor boy. Oh, that's nice. With cheeks rosy from the sea. Oh, that's nice. And he asked me today, what's a sailor to do and what chapel for a little fun? What kind of fun, I asked. And he says, for a chap like me. And I gave him a wink and a push with my elbow. And he says, no, lady, no, that's not what I'm talking about. A good girl, a nice girl I'd like to meet. Oh. And he wears an earring in his ear. And he comes from the West Indies, he says. And he comes to live here with a sea chest. I put him in room 12. Oh, that's just across the hall from me. Oh, yes. I peaked in a minute ago and the lads having a sleep. Not more than 17 years. Oh, rosy cheeks. A sea chest under his bed. The chest is locked. I ain't that a shame. Oh, my. Another. Another what? Murder. Who? Her name was Anne Chapman. The papers say it. Did you know her? No, she was in these parts for some time. I know her by whatever name. Read me more what it says. The throat was cut. Oh. She was lying close up against the wall and her eyes staring ahead. Oh, wait. It says here. What else? And her rings were torn from her fingers. Oh, but laid out real neat alongside her. All right. And it says here that man that did in Anne Chapman did in the other three. And it says here. What kind of man would do killings like that? That kind of man that did it. There's all kinds you should know. What else it say? It says they've named him. Oh. They've named him the Ripper. Robby's a nice name. I'm glad you like it. A sweet and innocent name. Thank you. Why are you laughing? Oh, here you sail the seven seas and look where we walk to, the Thames River. Well, I should imagine you're sailor and come home from a long voyage. You wouldn't want to come so near to water again. I'd walk with you wherever. Oh, now. I would too. Tell me a thing, Robby. Oh, I want to. Where you come from and what's your home? From Boston. Oh, such a lad to be so far away. I'm seventeen and all my life have been wanting to sail. Hey, let's sit here, Robby. Aye. It's truly remarkable. What is? A fair lady like you should be sitting next to me. Oh, I like you, Robby. Robby? Yes. How did you come to Whitechapel? Oh, it's where the cheapy rooms are. Don't you have no money? Not what you'd call money. Don't understand you. Well, things I bought in the Indies with money. Oh. A pearl or two and some other stones and coral things. You ought to see I've got my sea chest filled with all. But I'd like to. You shouldn't say, Robby. You shouldn't trust nobody. But there's thieves and thieves and thieves. Come along fast as you would never think and take your key to your sea chest right from wherever. Oh, they wouldn't do that. There's thieves and thieves and thieves. But they couldn't rob my key from me because I got it right here. Oh, kiss me, Robby. What? Kiss me. Yes. Oh, Mary, you're so wonderful. As she was lifting his key from wherever. Now, at this instant, at this precise time, when Mary Jane Kelly was kissing an apprentice seaman and making a sailor out of him, up from the London docks and north a mile away, Whitechapel, this was happening at midnight on Burner Street. Where do you go, sweet lad, sweet lad, when you go away from me? Elizabeth Stride, blond hair, dark eyes, a melancholy kind of gaiety. You want to hear another verse, lovey? She said to the man she's met a little while ago, Do you go to Dover? Do you go to D, sweet lad, sweet lad, when you go away from... You are listening to Crime Classics and your host, Thomas Highland, a network already famous for reliable and frequent news coverage, CBS Radio, adds an even dozen new newscasts to its schedule starting this coming Saturday. Here, Alan Jackson with the news, three new roundups in your Saturday daytime schedule. Listen for Robert Trout with four new strategically spaced Sunday roundups. And listen Monday through Friday nights for reports by Robert Trout, too, on most of these same stations. 12 new broadcasts of news starting this Saturday. CBS Radio's already wide margin for top reporting first. And now, once again, Thomas Highland and the second act of Crime Classics and his report to you on, Good evening, my name is Jack the Ripper. With regards to the murders in Whitechapel, the coroner had this to say, and I quote, I am afraid there will be more murders just like these four. These women were slain by a man who knows considerable about anatomy. In this case, a madman is probably at large. Unquote. If this sounds like a non sequitur to you, it sounds like one to me, too. My guess is that the coroner was shaky about the whole thing. Certainly all of London was. And the morning after the night of the knife and Elizabeth Stride, the conversations in Miller's court went something like this. Elizabeth Stride, I can't believe it. Did you know her? No. No. No, her, she asked me. How well? She worked for me. Worked for you? Well, you can call it that, if you ask. Do she helped me to pay for her lodgings? Moved away only last month, she did. What was she like? Blondie, she was. Yellow hair. I have yellow hair. Oh, not so yellow as yours. She had dark eyes. Oh, my eyes are dark, too. Oh, less brown than yours hers was. Oh, she was a laughter she was. Why are you laughing? Look at the skin of my arm now. Chilled and for no reason. Martha. What, dearie? I'm silly to fright. Those four of them, blond hair and... You're silly to fright. None as pretty as you. Nor as young. Tell me. What? Was there truly a pearl in the sailor's sea chest? Martha was letters from his mother in Boston. Nothing helped. Oh, you've been fox-diddy. Sweet and innocent he was. And rosy cheeks, and now he's off to sea again. Good morning, ladies. I said good morning to you. I'm running respectable lodgings, officer, and there's no reason why you should be coming in here. No, Martha, Martha, love, keep your shirt on. Oh, who's this pretty one with you, Martha? Who's she? Pinch her cheek and get done with it, officer. Tell us what you're doing here. Pretty, pretty. What's your name? Mary, Mary Jane Kelly. Mary Jane Kelly. Ain't you afraid, Mary? Afraid of what? Why, Jack the Ripper. Oh, sir. Yes, Mary. Truly, is there such a one? As surely as I'm standing here. A monster of some sort. What do you mean, dear, so skedaddle? He's written on the wall that he's going to kill 16 more before he's done. Ooh. Your officer thinks about pretty, that's me, so don't you fright. What do you want here? You ain't told us that. Questions? Of what? I'm told that the girl that met the Ripper last night, Elizabeth Stride, she was, I'm told she lived here. I'm told she worked here. And? I thought maybe you could answer me then if she had a man-friend. So special that is. Elizabeth? Betty? Men? Oh, no, not Elizabeth. Not Betty. Oh, no. You're sure now? I swear on my dear Aunt Anna's grave. Then what of you, pretty? Oh, I'm new to London, sir. Oh, now don't you let this Ripper fellow fright you? I know, sir. Not with you about. Ah, that's my girl. That's my girl, all right, ain't you? Ain't you? Yes, sir. Open up quick, Mary. Oh, Mary. Whatever's the matter? Come quick. Come with me quick. Where to? He's got his door open a little bit, and he's sitting there, and I want you to take a look at him. Who? Who are you talking about? The new rumor. He just arrived. Oh, no. Come take a look. Quiet now. We'll take a peek at him. Oh, handsome man as he sits there and reads his book. Quiet now. The boy gets up and sees us. Gets us away from here. Oh, he is handsome, isn't he? I suppose. You suppose? Handsomer than any about here? I suppose. Listen, you love somebody. Then they're handsomer than anything. Love somebody? Like I love Officer Thomas Thicke. Love him? With all my heart and soul. Well now. Well, well now. With all my heart and soul. Couldn't you go talk to my new rumor a bit? For all time's sake. Welcome him, so to speak. He seems like a lonely man. No. No? I'm to meet Officer Thicke in a sec. Truly? Truly. Wow. Meet Thomas Thicke. Now you've got the money. Oh, just because you're a police officer you don't have to be proud. Besides, I love you too. Oh, you're a girl, Mary. You're truly a girl. Don't you be proud. Let me be proud of you. Come, I'll walk with you. What? Wait here. What is it, Thomas? What was it? That drunkard. She screamed. A trick. She playing a trick. Like the ripper was at her. She saw me walking with you and that drunkard. Oh, I don't say nothing too bad against her. Everybody lives here in these alleys. You forget what's funny and what's not funny. Oh, you're a dear girl. Come, I'll walk you home. You best leave me here, Thomas. I can walk the half of the block. Besides... Besides what? Oh, they laugh at me. The other ones at Martha's that I'm walking with an officer. They say that's awful funny. Well, I'll not let you walk alone. Not these times with Jack and his knife about. He ain't done that thing he does for weeks now. So don't you worry. Here, give us a kiss, Thomas, and look for me tomorrow. I wish you'd let me walk with you. Oh, just give us a kiss. Now, look for me tomorrow. Sorry, sir. I didn't see you. Rumor, ain't you? There at Martha's, ain't you? I think so, because I'm happy. And when I'm happy, I'm a girl to know. Oh, I don't know you, sir, but you fear to me a gentleman of uncommon worth. So if I say to you, let's find a pub. Murder. Murder most foul. The sixth, Catherine Eddowes, found in a footpath in Mitre Square, lying on her back, head inclined to the left side. Her throat had been cut. Other lacerations indicated great anatomical skill by the killer. Jack the Ripper had slain his sixth victim, and London was washed again against the heights of terror. A hysteria took hold. Fingers were pointed, and Jack the Ripper shouted, and innocent men would be stoned. And Whitechapel was caught up in an orgy of self-guilt. It's a fiend from hell that's loose among us. And Judge McDays goes down on us. I can't find him. And the night of witches and beasties is nigh. Maybe even this very night. I've looked all over, and I can't find him. What are you babbling? Why are you standing there babbling? Thomas Stik isn't no longer in Whitechapel. What do you mean? He was seen going about with me, and they took him from Whitechapel to another place, and I can't find him. Oh, dearie. Oh, dearie. That's not so bad, is it? But I loved him. And gave him your money. What of it? And he took it. Mary. What? The new rumour. Oh, what a gentleman. Now, there's one for you. See how he stands outside there on the stoop. The way he smokes a cigar. A true gentleman. Oh, what of it? He's lovely. What of it? Can't you tell he's lonely? Why should I care? And you're lonely, too. Yes, I am. Then go to him. Talk to him. He's looked at you. I know he is. Just handsome one. And he's looked at you. Oh, has he now? I swear on my aunt Anna's grave. Has he now? Does my hair look all right? Softly gold. Truly, truly. And your eyes so dance and dance. Enjoy, Diddy. Hello. Isn't it a lovely night? It's so warm for November. Spring, really. I love walking. Oh, not so quickly, please. You take such long steps. Oh, I'm chilly. It's not warm at all. Let's go back to my room. I'll fetch a coat or whatever. I must tell you, Martha said a thing. You know, Martha. She said you were looking at me. Oh, no, no. If we go down the alley here, we can go in the back way. Well, I'll tell you. I've been looking at you. Right down there. I've put some pictures up on my wall. How do you like them? I know. Ah, right in here. Thank you. I'll just light the lamp. Would you like... The seventh, the last, the greatest unsolved crime in history. The year was 1888, and it's generally considered that Jack the Ripper was a very young man, and it's thought that he ran away to America. So that spry old gentleman over there carving so deftly the roast, spooning out the kidney pie, or that one there whittling, or the one there silver hair to find surgeon by day. Well, I'm just pointing out the possibility. That's all. In just a moment, Thomas Highland. Jack the Ripper, tonight's crime classic, was adapted from the original newspaper accounts by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. The music was composed and conducted by Bernard Herman, and the program is produced and directed by Elliott Lewis. Thomas Highland is portrayed on radio by Lou Merrill. In tonight's story, Betty Harford was heard as Mary and DJ Thompson as Martha. Featured in the cast were Irene Tedrow, Ben Wright, Paula Winslow, James McCallion, and Richard Peele, Roy Rowan speaking. And here again is Thomas Highland. Ladies and gentlemen, on Tuesday next, I begin a world cruise, during which time I will reestablish my friendships with antiquarians, historians, and police officers throughout the world. This commitment makes it necessary for me to conclude this present series of crime classics, effective with this broadcast. I hope to return in time to resume the series in the fall. Thank you and good night. Everybody has at least one day in a lifetime like, well, like you're going to hear about tomorrow night when CBS Radio presents Kathy and Elliott Lewis on stage. Hollywood's acting Lewis's star in a most unusual original story titled, Some Days It Just Doesn't Pay. And we think you'll find a delightful listening for a summer Thursday night. Try it and see. Tomorrow night, on most of these same stations, Kathy and Elliott Lewis on stage. It's Light Entertainment, the Peter Lindhay Show Monday through Friday evenings on the CBS Radio Network.