 The National Broadcasting Company presents the Adventures of Sam Frade, Detective. Sam Frade, Detective, Agency? Me, sweetheart, Bonst alongs Frade. Bonst alongs Frade? The only cop open the west with so much daylight between him and his saddle, the California Limited can pass under without ever slackening Frade. So? I'm rough and I'm tough and I'm ready, gal. I'll out-shoot, out-ride, knock-court, any man in boots. All barefooted, either, as a matter of fact, choose your weapon. What's come over you? Where have you been? Where the air is warm and the women are warmer, if, in the end, comes swift and sudden. Oh? I took Horace Creeley's advice, sweetheart, I went west. West? With Sam? I mean, are we already done? Keep your rain-tight, gal. I calculate the bull-leg-my-way-through-the-door-guard in my 12-gallon hat, my boxing shirt, my worn-leave-eyes, and my twin-six guns with extra-large hammers, to dictate my report on the dry-gulk-taper. The radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and crime drama brings you the greatest private detective of them all, in the adventures of Sam Faye. I'm here, prairie flower. Are you the new school-marve? Oh, you're so strong. Only that's so beat, Effie, so absolutely strong. Would you like anything that you'd like to drink? Not unless you have an in at the local cushion, thank you. Shall we see? I'd like to get it over with. Thank you. You mean, a gift to a headache, just to think of it? It's not my head that I was referring to. You ready, little partner? Ready? Thank you. They pill it in to Lieutenant R.C. Halliday, robbery, detail, San Francisco Police Department City. From Samuel Spade, license number 137-596. Subject, a wild West caper, or hop along Cassidy, can have it. Dear Halliday, I should pray at this very instant, I should be cramming for my entrance exams to the Mission Home for Saddle Store Private Detectives, but knowing how this report will tidy up your files, I shall proceed in ascending position. It was late yesterday afternoon when, for me, the bells hoed. That was when I first heard the purdy voice of the girl of the Golden Whip. Mrs. Spade, you, I can't say the detestee. Seven days a week, 24 hours a day, who... Mrs. Spade, I'm telling about my grandfather. If you don't even know who I am, there he is. I cannot tell a lie, I don't. My name's Kenny Bruce Spade, and I only hope I can tell you the story before grandfather comes to phone. The story? Yes, you see. Oh, here it comes. Play along with Mrs. Spade, please. And remember, you're not Stan Spade, the detective, you're Marshall Spade of the California Rangers. Marshall, wait a minute, I... You must look the part... In a Bruce Spade suit... You'll think of something, I know you will. I've heard part of the detective be terribly clever. Spade? That's right. Buck Bruce the talking. Yeah? Kenny says you're the strangest shooting pokey since Billy the kid. T-Rex? Huh? Oh, sure, sure. T-Rex, Buck T-Rex. Same as you and the horse, fly along like you was once. T-Rex? Buck had one time or another, I'd taken a flyer on every nag in the game. Trotters included. And you're my man, Marshall. Get up here fast. The shooting's not able to start any minute. We have a bad connection on this phone. I thought you said the shooting's rival to start any minute. I ain't got no time to waste on useless flyer, Spade. Just get up here. I'll paint the whole picture when I see you. Get up where? Where are you? Why, in Dry Ghosts. Where else would I be? Well, that's... Well, where is Dry Ghosts? Take the main trail north out of town and you spot the Oak Circle. Then bear right. I'll go down now and leave a change amount to the circle. How far would you say this circle is from San Fran? Oh, about a half-day's hard ride, I reckon. Half a day's... Look, Russ, I don't think I'd better. I'm out of condition. You know, I haven't been riding lately. Oh, sure. That ain't what my pretty granddaughter tells me. Pretty, eh? Half a day's hard ride. About 20 miles, huh? I don't remember any time along there. Don't worry about the town, Marshall. It's here. Just get in your saddle and get your loop. You're sure there's a time there? Spade, I ain't got time to argue geography with you. Now, listen. Them $50 gold pieces clinking together and I get a whole cellar full of them. Are you coming up here? What? Tell them to take you to the high hills. Sam's Fade rides again. I made two stops before I hailed a cab and pulled the saddle driver to proceed north on the main trail out of town at a corner newsstand where I riffled through a Western Story magazine to determine what the saddle and spade brush that is wearing this season and at the Hitch and Post costume shop where I'd done what I thought was a rather colorful facsimile of the same. We drove out 101 at a smooth 55 for almost half an hour before I spotted a circular crumpled tree complete with horse. As we leered to a halt, the driver looked back at me and shook his head. I'm taking down your description, but just in case they air black 10-gallon hat, white silk shape, arm and gang go to chess. Boy, I've seen everything now. You obviously aren't an Esquire man. Now, this wardrobe was personally endorsed by Mr. T. Uh, yeah. Yeah. You sure you want to get out here, Buster? At this very spot, Buster. But there ain't nothing here but nothing. Wrong, my good man. For you, there is this. For me, yonder seed and the dusty trail on your right. Pleasant journey back to the Fort and keep an eye to you for the Indians. A fruit case. I've been hauling a fruit case. He drove off and I staggered on the sides of my ankle toward the horse, the mount that Buster left for me. Now, this ordinary critter took one look at my costume and right swung up into the saddle. He shuddered, then closed his eyes and bowed. Hey, wait for me, horse! Hey, horse! It was approximately seven miles later and I was beginning to feel better because I was paralyzed from the waist down that we passed past a sign that read Dry Guelts City Limits. Beware of flying lead. And then came Dry Guelts Poppers. Brand shackled buildings blinded solitary dusty streets, roofs sagging, walls leaning crazily inwards. There wasn't a human being in sight. Dry Guelts was a ghost house. We crossed past the Golden Spur Cafe, Whitey's Ponsorial Parlor, the Lone's Gambling Casino and Goat and Sadland Harnish Shop. All deserted. Before my horse piled to a halt in front of the Red Dog Saloon. I dismounted and parbled in. In fact, the Red Dog was a fighter's paradise. The cobwebs covered everything. A Jesse James-wanted poster packed on a wall. An 1835 calendar bearing a picture of San Houston. Even a bottle of red-eye standing on the bar. I was washing the trail dust out of my throat when a familiar object on a shelf behind the bar caught my attention. I shoved a bottle hastily away from me and rapidly blinked my eyes. But what I'd seen was still there. A brand-new oak-taste television set. Aha! And then somebody shoved another familiar object right into my ribs. For your sake, I hope you're Marshall Spade. The same, and also for my sake, I hope you don't have a nervous trigger finger. Mighty careless Marshall, drinking with your back to the door. Let me look you over. Come on. I said no. All right, Buck. Well, why incarnation are you rigged out like that? Well, perhaps these aren't my best colors, but, uh, oh, how about this shooting you spoke of? What's the trouble, Buck? No, it's that low-down snake Blackie Tolliver, Marshall. Blackie Tolliver? No, you must have heard of Blackie. Yeah, this is in here. Blackie Tolliver, sought for the robbery of the Cattleman's National Bank, Oklahoma City, June 25th, 1894. Rough honor, A.K. Euse. A.K. Euse, but direct. We crossed trails first when he pulled that job. Me being a sheriff in 94 was up to me to take him down. But he wrangled himself apart and slipped for a snake. And then? Well, four years later, I hit Tombstone, all trying to settle down. He didn't have a little silly all picked out, but it never happened. What did? Oh, that creepin', callin' Blackie Tolliver a sweet talker in the leaving town with him. Your girl ran off with Blackie to get hitched in Dawson City. Then he stranded her there, sick and broke. I burned her leather gettin' through her when I heard. But I was too late. Oh, I'm sorry, but that's a long time ago. Well, I vowed I'd get that sidewinder. I chased him all over the West. But if you couldn't catch him, then three days ago, I'd seen him again. Here in dry golden? No, no, on TV. What? Yeah, some program was telecastin' about a new bank openin' in Fistow. And there? There, Biggie's life was Blackie right on the TV. You could recognize him? On television? Amazing. And you know what he was doin' there, Marshal? What? Blackie Tolliver, who's held up more banks than I've got fingers and toes, was a guard in that bank. You mean he pulled a switch, huh? Trainin' with the law now. Quick as the TV was finished, I read him a letter. I challenged him to a shootout here in Guy Gold where no one could interfere. And as soon as he sees the souls up, some are gonna cut him down. Well, what makes you think he'll show? Well, two of his gang was skulkin' around yesterday lookin' to lay out for him. You mean two of his gang? How do you figure that? Well, it's simple. I sent him that letter when they showed up. The first human successful in Guy Gold in ten years. Yes, sure. Now, if Blackie's got a gang, I might need some help, please. That's where you'll come in. If things get too rough, you're gonna step in and trim the tide. Me? Why, I haven't swung a tide in years. Penny! Penny! A girl now enters a red dog. A girl. And I do not use the term loosely. Golden hair frames a face that belong nowhere but on a ranch romantic cover. And her plaid shirt and jeans entaste the sort of figure that lonely cowpokes dream of. The sort of figure, as a matter of fact, that lonely private defectors dream of, too. Now, this is my granddaughter Penny, Marsha. Pretty as a new saddle, ain't she? Hi there, Marsha. I've heard a lot about you. Oh, I've heard. Uh, show them Marsha where he'll bed down, honey. And keep your eyes open, Sade. The environment's a liable to strike in any minute. Well, you can run along now. Okay, but you'll be here. Well, I wouldn't be nowhere else for the next half hour. Nice brush Sandy coming on. Sade's brushed Sandy? Yes, sir. The best thing that ever happened to TV. The greatest stick stock is the size of the Pekos River. Now, if I can get you, find him. Now, we'll remove the tape from the oven. Ow! Sade? Oh dear, what a maze. Well, for a quick substitute today. Dad, Brad had cooked an expert. Oh, Dixie-Lan. That's Dixie-Lan. Music or murder, that's what it is. And San Francisco police have no clue to the whereabouts of two armed gunmen who, late this afternoon, forced the guard to open the doors to park Sade Banks and escape with a suitcase full of colors. Cook and that's it. Dixie-Lan. Thanks, Robert. We're in Tarnation Sade's brush Sandy. You bet. Ow. Dad. Dad. And just listen to that record he's listening. Now, that's real music. Now, we must. Let's quickly. I take it Sade's brush Sandy's program doesn't do anything for you? Well, let's say the fresh air does more. I'm glad you saved me to say. The minute I was afraid you were leaving, dry ghost. Where were you? Outside the window you were trying to reach. You mean you heard all the things Buck said? Uh-huh. We turn in here. Uh-huh. This is the overland house wall. You're not worried about your grandfather? No, Mr. Sade. There's nothing wrong with it. Oh, here you are. Not the paramount, exactly. Charming. Charming. Yeah, about Buck. Grandfather is a very old man. He's trying desperately to live in the town. That's why he bought dry ghost. You mean he bought the whole town? Locked stock and barrel. It was... Well, a dream he'd had for years come true. A chance to live out his life and a sort of surrounding to love. You mean he bought the whole town? Locked stock and barrel. A surrounding to love. And Blackie Colliver, the demon bank robber who came back on television. I've heard about Blackie Colliver since I was so high. This showdown with Blackie is all Grandfather talked about. When it doesn't happen, there'll be no living with him. Unless he can be convinced Blackie was just too scared to face him. And I am the convention? Why me? Who could convince him easier than Marshall's Sade of the California Rangers talking to a man-the-man? I don't see. Well, look, I can't take as much as it is. I'll play a scene just good and right. Tomorrow you can leave me to get the whole scene. You will help me. Once you've found it. Her face was only inches from mine and getting closer every second. When the silence of dry ghost was shattered by shout from the sound of pounding feet, I crossed the room and took it out into the twilight. A man was running through the red dog saloon in the hotel. But nowhere near fast enough all four of the shots that lanced out from the red dog caught him directly under my window. He staggered drunkenly and then fell face up in the street. As I looked down at him, two thoughts were inescapable. A, his was the same face what could show me on the poster so there was a Blackie Colliver. And B, whatever game was apparently one he was playing for teeth. Welcome to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective, Sam Spade. Have you met our new baby yet? I mean NBC's new baby, The Big Show. And what a baby it is. The biggest baby you ever heard and he's not crying either. Why should he cry with stars like Kalula Bankhead, Jimmy Durante, Clifton Webb, Mindy Carson, Meredith Wilson and radio's greatest spectacle ever. This Sunday and every Sunday meet The Big Show, an hour and a half of comedy, music and drama. All this and to Lula too. No wonder it's The Big Show. And Sunday evening over most of these NBC stations also means Theatre Guild on the air. Now back to the dry gout caper or they went that away. Sam Spade. Burr was still alive but unconscious when Penny and I reached him moments later. His forced breathing was the only sound to be heard along dry, gouchy, single street. Wherever Buck had gone after the shooting, whatever he was doing he was quiet as a mouse. I examined Blackie as best I could in the dusky light. He was wearing a Park State Bank guard uniform and it was soaked with red. He needed medical attention fast. You guys can, we'll call it murder, won't you? What about that now? What else could they call it? Blackie didn't have a prayer. He isn't even carrying a gun. It's Dan's father. What are we going to do? Right now we're going to get Blackie to a hospital. That means we'll need horses and some help. There's no one to help us. Well, there's Buck. If we take him to a hospital he's still my guy. I'm not a regaining. If we didn't, no one would ever know I carried Blackie to the hotel porch and did what I could to make him comfortable. Then I started looking for Buck. Buck's TV set was still on when I reached the Red Dog but it was playing through a dark, empty house. I turned away to continue my search and then I stopped. The music carrying at my ear drums was pure Dixieland. Musical murder is Buck called it. I checked my watch. 6.23. Only 23 minutes since Penny and I left the saloon. That meant Sage brushed Sandy. He still had 7 minutes to go. I could see Buck taking a powder after dropping Blackie but I couldn't see him forsaking his beloved Sandy for Dixieland before he did it. I was wondering who heads which channels when I saw what I'd missed before. A sliver of light shining under a door at the back of the room. I kept footed my way across the Red Dog and had almost reached the door when for the second time since my arrival in Dry Gulch I felt a gun barrel pressed against my spine. Don't stop. Just keep moving right on through the door. I'm sorry, sir. I can hardly hear you with that music. All right, so we can turn it off. Thank you. Thank you. Now move. Well, you wouldn't sit, but I can only stay a moment. Rocky, what happened? I thought the population of this town was but a war. I got rid of the old town but on the way back I ran into this gee. Apparently the census takers overlooking him. Yeah, I don't approve. You can believe no man. We have given positive assurance the place is deserted yet traffic suddenly becomes unbearable. Well, perhaps I was being over friendly, gentlemen. We Westerners get carried away now, and now if you'll excuse me... Oh, that's no... Yes, friend, you have just arrived. Really, boys, it's far past my usual bedtime. So you sleep in tomorrow. Sit down. Leave us chat. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the office and I've handled it back room. I could have chatted about it. I could have told Al Perino, short, Swarthie, and one of the best-known bank boys in the business, that I'd recognize him as soon as his friend heard of me through the door. Or perhaps mention the currency stacked high on the table before him. Each packet held together by a paper binder with the words Park State Bank of San Francisco are all a grievous misunderstanding. I merely happen by to remind you of the annual Rodeo to be held at Devil's Elbow this coming Saturday. An innocent, friendly gesture. Tell us more. A most colorful event, the Rodeo. Runkle, busting, covered wagon races, wild-steer roping, and anyone can enter. Now, perhaps you would be interested? Me? Why? I haven't roped a wild-steer in almost a fortnight. Your friend? A fire up the stair? A busted up market? Well, it was just a thought. All right. Hold it. Please. I'm most unhappy that we misjudged your friend. No, it's nothing. Every call can't be a happy one. You already make me feel worse. I feel we owe you something for at least thinking of us. Don't you, Corky? Yes, indeed, Al. Give it all, Corky. I told Foran as the worst left his mouth, because I knew what they intended to give me. But I only got in one punch because Corky knew what Al was going to say before he said it. That gave him a slight advantage, and it was all he needed. When I came out of it, I was lying in total darkness, and I wasn't alone. Oh, that blasted Foran, and she wouldn't like it loose and get my hands on him. Oh. Barman, let me lose. Just a minute, Buck. I'll give you a hand. There you are. How'd they get you, Buck? I was watching the TV, and I heard a card, and Blackie and them two, they were stroking around yesterday. They drove up, and they walked right into the red dog, as if they were aiming to stay here. It was carrying the suitcase. Blackie was. And the others were walking along behind them with their guns drawn, protecting them, so I couldn't get to them. Well, it was me that got surprised, though. Well, what happened, Buck? Well, they was in the back room, and Blackie was hollering about a double-cross and a fair crux, and that there kind of talk. And then the door busted open, and he came out carrying out a coarser room with that little critter right behind him. That'll be Al Torino. He's the one who got Blackie. He what? Got Blackie. You mean that wall-eyed critter's been messing around my range? Remember, we heard on TV about the Park State Bank the hostages that announced the fella was talking about. Uh-uh. He was the bank garden they took him. No, no. Blackie was in it, too. The inside man. He had to be. You think Blackie opened them doors for him without any persuasion, huh? I'll give you odds on it, Buck, and they didn't just happen to pick dry gulchers their hideout, either. Blackie must have suggested it after you wrote and told him you were up here all along. You didn't know it, but you were handing him a perfect hideout. The bottom money for three would be even more for two. Hey, addition to that, the environment's a fixin' to pull out. Come on, if you'll get him! I'm right with you, Buck. Hold up! Hold up, you push-wackin' dudes! Hey! Oh, dad-grat, it's with you, late Marshall. There they go, carrying down the back of the road. Is there any way we can cut across country and head them off? Oh, no, not a foot, we can't. And by the time we saddle up some phonies, they'd be gone. You did? Yeah. We galloped up drawers, down canyons, through screams, over cliffs, and across deserts, and the only place on me that felt good was my head, where Corky had sat me. And finally, Park riding ahead of me pulled his pony to a halt and wedded for me to catch up. Somehow, I slid south off my horse's neck and was back in the saddle again when I drew a breast of him. Well, we ain't gonna have to trap them, dudes. Hey, Marshall! No, Cripple Creek done it first. Cripple Creek. In the west, it crosses the road up ahead of peace. And right now, them critters are sitting hugged deep in sand. Come on! Let's start riding circle. Riding circle? Oh, round and round the car should we pick them up? Oh, no, but we're gonna head a list my way and invoke the on horseback. What fancy plan do you got? None, it's very simple. We leave the horses right here. You get as close to them as you can along the road and I'll circle around behind them. I want to let go after them. You got it? Well, all right. But I still think shirking is better. I left them there and got from bush to boulder to tree, working my way to a position behind Al Torino and Corky. I had just reached a rock formation that overlooked a road right over their car and clipped my 38 out of a tidying place beneath a purple silk shirt when I realized that Buck wasn't gonna do things anyway, but his own. All right, you city-fied home cat! There, clouds flowed slightly behind Torino and his henchmen. His hands were an indistinct blur as Torino spun around, digging for his left arm's head. He was fast, but it's almost impossible to outlaw a man who uses a breakaway shoulder hoster. I was on my feet running toward the car when Buck staggered backward, a look of surprise on his face and then crumpled to the ground. I fired as I ran and Corky's shuttle face was still falling forward when Al Torino caught the last of my bullets and followed him down. I ran into a sitting position. His eyes were bewildered as he looked up at me. He got me, Marshal. Easy, easy, Buck. Now let's have a look. There we are. Well, Buck, you were lucky. Just grazed a rib. He got me, Marshal. I guess I better hang up my shooting arms and just concentrate on Tim and Penny. You know, Buck, I've been wondering how you wound up with a granddaughter anyway. If the filly black he ran off with meant so much to you, how could you marry... Corky, Marshal. Penny's grandma was twice the woman that first one was. Best in the world. Well, then how come you held a grudge against Blackie all those years and wanted to shoot it out with him? Oh, I didn't really, but glad it all. A man's got to have a little excitement in his life, don't he? No matter if it is that, but go type it up anyhow. Are you sure you aren't making up the whole thing? For the doubting promises, I'm going to settle scars to prove the truth of each and every statement. I'll type it up right away. Three times mean good times on NBC. There's no cover charge at Duffy's Tavern. Just keep your dial tuned to NBC later. As Archie and his delightful friends cook up another mad and merry session at that remarkable restaurant, Duffy's Tavern. This Sunday, The Big Show comes your way again on NBC, the best in comedy, music, and drama with unpredictable to Lula as MC, Jimmy Durant, E. Clifton Web and many more. No questions? Well, one if you don't mind. Ask, ask. Um, why has he died, I suppose? Indeed not. He'll be up and in fine fiddle by the time his pile rolls around. But you were doubting across the desert and forgot all about him. Who took care of him? The doctor, who else? Oh, besides forgetting Blackie, I also forgot there was a phone in Dragout. That's how Penny contacted me in the first place, remember? And she called a doctor. It's Penny. You sort of liked it, didn't you, Sam? Oh, she was all right in a beautiful, gorgeous sort of way. Oh, Archie. We never did get to sit down and talk things over, Est. In fact, I never got to sit down. I still have it. Of course, Sam. It's like what he says, we all have muscles that we're not accustomed to use. And then when we use them, they just... They do, indeed. The thing you do have to do is to get to know me. Oh, shut up. Come here. Oh! Good night, Penny. Good night, sweetheart. Hear the Magnificent Montague, then visit Duffy Savard on NBC.