 Ipana for the smile of beauty, Sal Hapatica for the smile of health, presents... Mr. District Attorney, champion of the people, defender of truth, guardian of our fundamental rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Mr. District Attorney is brought to you by two famous Bristol Myers products, Ipana and the Sal Hapatica. Ipana for the smile of beauty, Sal Hapatica for the smile of health. Ipana, Sal Hapatica. Ipana for the smile of beauty, Sal Hapatica for the smile of health, guardian of our fundamental rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In our constant experience with men who live by fraud and deceit, ladies and gentlemen, it is obvious that they succeed largely by one old and simple method. That of making it seem easy to get rich quickly. I need hardly add that never in that same experience has this proved to be so. Tonight's case of murder in Rhythm and Rhyme begins in an old and disreputable office building here in our city. Harry, here's one. The jerk can close the tent spot in cash too. In cash? Let me have it, baby. Aw, you said the next letter with cash in was mine. If you finish the recordings, Dolly, come now. Let Harry have the money. That's a nice girl. Look who's talking. You ain't even printed the song sheets for the last six poems we got. I will, my pet, I will. What's a poem? The one with the tent spot. Who thinks he's oving Boil in this time? Oh, just reading the letter. And I read your ad where you say you can write music to fit my poem so I enclose it. Smart boy. There's more. Also, where you say in the ad, you will send me a record of my song, as sung by an international star of stage and screen. That's me, but... Yeah, he didn't send for the signed copy, did he? Oh, there ain't no extra two bucks if that's what you're looking for. Oh. Oh, brother, get a load of the title. On the poem? Yeah. Granny's making cornbread up yonder tonight. Oh, no. Granny's doing what that... Making cornbread, whatever that is. Let's see now. Dum-di-dum-di-di-di-di-di-dum-di-dum-di-dum-di. Boom. Granny's making biscuits tonight. Boom, boom. Cornbread. Cornbread tonight. Boom, boom. Greg, uh, what's the rest of it? What do you care? We'll use the same tune we always do. Yeah. Who's that? Well, how should I know one answer? You go, Dolly. Whoever it is, get rid of them. That's a hell. I'm not here, Dolly. All right. All right, go on. Duck in the back room. Hello. Excuse me. Is this the Great Whiteway Music Publishing Company? Yeah, it is. What can I do you for? I beg your pardon, I... Out with it, shall, Mama, busy girl. Wait a minute. If that stinking Sam Denver sent you, he can fly a kite for his dough. Sam Denver? Yeah, the bookie. Or did you... Wait a second. What do you want, huh? Why, I sent you my poems. I'm Tim Newton. You're who? Tim Newton. I have Mr. Madison's letter right here. Oh, I see. Oh, you're a customer. Oh, dear. Excuse me for living. I thought you were somebody else. Have I come to the right place? Oh, you sure have, Mr. Newton. I'm right in. You have a court appearance at 11, chief, and lunch with the commissioner at 1.30. Oh, thank you, Miss. Now, anything else? Let me see. I don't... I don't help. I don't help. About morning, chief. Morning, little culley. Little what? Yes, I don't believe I quite caught my hearing. You're not known what a day it is, chief. Day? Well, let me see. March 17th, isn't it, Miss Miller? Wednesday, chief. Oh, Miss Miller, look. Look at me next time. Now, what color is it? Uh... Kind of orange, isn't it, chief? Orange! Oh, my grandmother's spinning in her grave in County Cork. It's green. This is St. Patrick's Day yet. No. No, is it really? Well, I hadn't heard, had you, Miss Miller. Oh, St. Patrick's Day. Not a thing, chief. Who's St. Patrick's? Oh, Miss Miller, that doesn't so help me in a minute. I'm not... Sure, Harrington, my boy, we're known as the Good Saints Day to be sure. Sure, Harrington, to be sure. Oh, corny. That's what it is. An orange. Thank you. Me with an orange. I take it all back, Harrington. That's the greatest piece of neck where I've ever seen it. Oh, well, thank you. That's better. Sure is. Anything for me to date, chief? Well, now, there are a few things, Harrington. However, if you're busy, perhaps Brophy can take care of it. Brophy, where is it, chief? What's on my schedule? Do you have an advertisement, Miss Miller? The one, the Better Business Bureau sent over? Yes, thank you. Oh, it's right on top of your photo there, too. Oh, yes, thank you. We're here on the... Wait a minute. The Great White Way Music Publishing Company, Harrington. Oh, that'll rock it again, chief. As a matter of fact, this particular ad puzzles me. Yes. It's apparently been running in small, out-of-town papers. Sure, that's where they get them. Well, this isn't just the usual ad, however. And this one says that for a service fee of $10, they'll write music to fit your poem. Send you a copy of the published song. And what was the rest of it, Miss Miller? Send it to a nationwide radio network. Remember that, chief. That's right, that's right. Oh, and finally, you get a photograph recording of your song made by an... Let's see, where's that word in... Oh, here. Made by an internationally famous star of stage and screen. Boy, that's some ten bucks worth it. That's my impression, too. You know what's strange? How one of these crops up every so often, you'd think people would learn. Oh, not poets, chief. I have a cousin who sends me his latest masterpieces every week. Sure. And that's how these bums stay in business. Yes, well, let's put this one out of business, Harrington. Check on it, will you? And let me know. Oh, Harry, for Pete's sakes, the kid's been hanging around for three days. Hmm? Kid, pet, what kid? Tim Newton. He's sitting out in the other office. No, Tim, you're a fine boy, darling. Great talent. Great talent, my foot. He's got a ten spot for every one of his drippy poems, you mean. He has more? Yeah, bucketful. Oh, I don't think you ought to do it, Harry. Honest. We don't quite do it, honest. Very funny. But, Harry, he's such a nice boy. Yeah, and he's getting sore, too. Oh? Yeah, well, why wouldn't he? This dump don't exactly look like big dough, you know. My dear girls, some of the finest songs in the business have come out of modest surroundings. Yeah. Why, when I was in Portable, I found numbers practically anywhere. Dad, I can get. Huh? You still say get rid of the kid. Send him back where he came from before he gets too smart. Hey, this is unlike you, darling. Is the boy buying any chance attractive? Oh, me? Just a thought. Just a thought. I'll have a talk with him today. Perhaps run over a few of his, uh, epics with him. Well, I still say get rid of him now before he gets smartened up. Tell you what, baby darling, just a few more taps at his tail and away he goes. All right? He's getting sore, Harry. Oh, nonsense. He'll go home singing. Oh, uh, in the meantime, Pat. Yeah? Be, uh, feed nice to him. Poets, you know. They have a tender soul. Well, I guess that about cleans up my little black book, chief. And he's a cinch for a conviction. I think so, Harrington. Who was assigned to the trial, Miss Money? Uh, Fred Chief. Jack the Sistine. Oh, good. Ask them to go over it with me when they're ready. Would you please? Yes, sir. Now, anything else, Harrington? Well, I slapped a discount charge on Weepin' Willie, chief. I told you about him. He didn't stick. He was up in front of Judge Higgs this morning. He drew three years. I have a verdict report on that, chief. You're fine. Oh, um, what about our song publishing friends, Harrington? Any progress? Chief, there's a lot of up-and-up music publishers in this county, but I don't think our great white way boys are one of them. Oh, are they licensed? They are not. Let's see. Who's running the show? Well, as near as I can get it, chief, a guy named Harry Madison. Harry Madison. Yeah, one of the boys that helped kill Voldeville. And a dame named Dolly Racine. Who? She's the international star of stage and screen, Miss Miller. She sounds like it. Yeah, the whole thing's as funny as they come, chief. Give me a couple of days to seal it up and I'll take them. Now, my boy, let's just get a few king signed out here, and we'll be all set. Just read me the first line again. Not today, Harry. I'm tired. Nonsense. Now, Tim. The catfish are a-biting down on Honey's Suckle Bay. They'll do it every time. That's the first line, Miss Racine. Like I said, I wrote this one when I was fishing. No. Yeah. Did you hear that, Dolly? Yeah. An outdoor song. Woodsy stuff. Goes over big, my boy. Think so, Mr. Madison. Think. Why, I know. Now, we'll just get the old piano warmed up and we'll let it go. We've got to do it now, Harry. No time like the present, Dolly. Got the recording machine on. Wait a second. You make records on that? Fine. It's the Kripper in the World, my boy. Meet him himself. Ready, Dolly? Give me the words. Oh, here they are, Miss Racine, on my manuscript. All set. One, two. The catfish are a-biting down in Honeysuckle Bay. The moon's a feather pillow on which my head's too late. Not now, son. Go on, Dolly. But you've got the wrong tune, Mr. Madison. What do you mean, the wrong tune? That's the tune you used before, remember? On my poem about the way the sun shines on the cornfield. My dear young man, I never use the same melody twice. But that's the same one, though, and I think it sounds like the other ones, too. Harry... Never mind, Dolly. Look, son, I've been turning out hits since before you were born. I know music. Oh, I know that, Mr. Madison. Good. Now, shall we make the record, Dolly? No. Not with that tune, Mr. Madison. That ain't fair. Harry, maybe we ought... Stay out of this, Pet. What isn't fair, my boy? Using the same tune for all my poems, I've been thinking, Mr. Madison, you ain't just playing square about this thing. Uh-huh. Dolly, be quiet. You have a complaint, Tim? Oh, just that it ain't fair, Mr. Madison. You say in the ad you write special music for my words. I go on. But... but you don't. It's the same thing over and over, and while I'm getting it off my chest, Mr. Madison, it ain't fair about her, too. Oh? Not just a second. What ain't fair about me? The way the ad says my song will get recorded by an international star. Well? Heck, Miss Racine. You don't sound like a star at all. I don't, huh? Why, you small-time hit? Where do you get off making a crack like that? Now, there's no need to get sore, Miss Racine. I... I just think you folks are cheating people. That's all. Why, you bum, you too? Well, hold it, Dolly. All right, young man. You're dissatisfied with our service? We will give you your $10 back. Oh, it ain't that, Mr. Madison. No, no, no, no. I insist. Get him $10, Dolly. No, no, don't do that, Miss Racine. It ain't the money so much. It's the principle of the thing. It's what? Cheating folks this way. That's a phone you got there? Phone? What for? It ain't easy to get me mad, Mr. Madison, but you got no right making people out full this way. Who are you calling? Policeman. Harry! I figure we can just sit down and have a little talk about this, Mr. Madison. I've been thinking about it a long time now. Harry, do something, Harry! Put down the phone, son. Not now, Mr. Madison. In fact, the more I think, the matter I get. I said put down the phone. Harry's stopping for cleanup, long, Harry! I don't need to get all excited, Miss Racine. I just wanted to be sure. Hello, operator? Crazy country, sure. Operator, I wonder if you can tell me how... Oh, no! Hey, Harry. You knocked him cold. Dumb pluck. Pick up the phone, Dolly. Yeah. What did you hit him with? Just a paperweight. He'll come around. Pick up the phone. Yeah. Crazy kid. Now what'll we tell him? I'll get rid of him somehow. What's the matter? Hey, Harry, this is Tim Newton. What? Gee, Harry, he's dead. Tim Newton, amateur poet, would-be songwriter, dead. We'll hear the next development of this unusual case in just a moment. But first, tell me, Jan, what's your pet superstition? My pet superstition? Well, when I spill salt, I always throw some over my left shoulder to avoid bad luck. How about you, Bob? I'm one who believes in knocking on wood. Yes, lots of us have little superstitions. But it takes more than some pet superstition to help you avoid a troublesome day. For example, if you wake up in the morning feeling dull and moggy because you need a laxative. You take sal hepatica, April. Right. A sparkling glass of sal hepatica when you get up brings quick, gentle relief, usually within an hour. And that means you don't have to feel dull and moggy all day waiting until night to take the laxative you needed in the morning. In addition, if you're troubled with excess gastric acidity, sal hepatica helps sweeten your stomach. So keep a bottle of sal hepatica handy. Then anytime you need a laxative, morning, noon, or night, see how much faster you feel better thanks to gentle speedy sal hepatica. And now back to Mr. District Attorney. They got the guy's body up under peer treatment. You want to take a look? Yes, I think so, Harrington. As long as we're here. Who discovered it? One of the doc hands. It ain't been in the water very long. Over here? Yeah, under the blanket. All right, Johnson, I'll watch it. Okay, Harrington. Hello, Johnson. Hello, dear. Yeah. Young boy. Yeah. As long as you were on your way home, Chief, you might as well see it. Yes, yes. I'm glad you're called. Any identification? No, nothing too good so far. Some kind of book in his pocket. I'll dry it out. Death due to drowning? Well, that's one reason I called, Chief. I'm not sure. Yeah, look. Look at that bump on the side of it. Yes, yes. I was just noticing. As the examiner had been called? Yeah, he'll be waiting when they bring the money in. Now, strange. Suicides are usually careful to avoid hitting anything in the water. Yeah, and they usually don't clean out their pockets this way either, Chief. I think it'd better follow through on this, Harrington. Are you on something else? Just that song publishing thing. Well, I'll check on that for you. Stick with this, if you will, it might be worth it. I gotta stop thinking about it. It's done. Forget it. But you killed him, Harry. Gee, I never meant for nothing like that to happen. Neither did I, but it's done, ain't it? Now, we just gotta be sure everything is covered up. But what about his hometown? They'll know he came to see us. What? Well, you know how it is. Small town boy goes off to the big city. He's bound to have talked about it. Yeah. Yeah, he would. Sooner or later, they'll wonder what happened to him, won't they? All right. So he never got here. That's all. We never saw him. Suppose he wrote home while he was here. Suppose he told somebody we were recording his songs. Yeah. Huh, OK. So we did see him. But he left. Get it? He started back home. Then what? Well, after that, we don't know nothing. Hey, wait a minute. We can cinch it. How? We'll send him a letter. Huh? You know, glad to have seen him in the city. Hope he got home OK. That kind of thing. So Provee left here all right. Sure. Yeah, Harry. Say, we'll even do better than that. We'll send him one of his records. We got one, haven't we? One? Dozens. Look at that pile. OK. We'll send him one. Then when anybody asks us, we're surprised, see? Shocked. We don't know a thing. Chief? Yes? Harrington. Yes, Harrington. What is it? Well, I'm over at the lab, Chief. And that kid we fished out of the river last night? Oh, isn't it? No, not yet. But I did get something. There's a bookstore label in that book we found on him. Oh. Yeah, it's kind of a crazy book, too. It's what they call a rhyming dictionary. I see. Yeah. If you don't want me, Chief, I thought I'd take a run out and check on who bought the book. It ought to be easy to trace. Collinsville, about 50 miles west, OK? Oh, and all that great wide wave song publishing matter. Oh, yeah. Yeah, Chief. My report's on the desk. Yes, yes. How was that case while you're gone? How much mail, Dolly? Did you pick it up? Twenty-two letters. Well, we're doing better. Much better. Harry. Yes, Pet? Harry, I was thinking, couldn't we quit? Well, maybe just for a while even? Quit? When we're getting twenty-two letters a day? We quit that many every day. Besides, well, it seems kind of low. Huh? Well, like he said that night, like cheating people. Darling, some people were meant to be cheated. Besides, we do what we promise them. I print a copy of their song for them, don't I? Yeah, one copy. Same as a gag about sending one to a radio network. OK, who says anything about what the network does with a song? We send it. That's the big thing. Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's just me. You'll be fine, Pet. See who's there. I guess so. Maybe I think too much. That I doubt, Pet. Oh, thank you, pardon me. Is this the great wide-way music publishing company? It is. Good. My name is Howard. James Porter Howard. Yeah. Permit me to introduce myself, sir. Howard. James Porter Howard. So, what's your trouble? Trouble? Why, my dear Mr. Mattishon's the name. My dear Mr. Mattishon, there's no trouble. Not now. You see, sir, I have brought you my poem. Oh, you write poetry. Oh, I do indeed. Yes, indeed. And you, I understand, have been favored by the other muses. How's that again? Well, in short, my verses. Your music. Together or fortune. Am I not right? Look, Mr. Howard, before you get unwound, there's a fee goes with this kind of thing, you know. Naturally. Naturally. I've read your advertisement, Mr. Mattishon. That's why I'm here. Now come then. Can't we do business? Sit down, Mr. Howard. Thank you. Take off your coat. Thank you. Okay, darling. Oh, sure. And dust it off. Yes, sir. We can do business just fine. Now, Miss Miller, you're sure you're sure you don't know where the chief is, huh? Thanks. And for heaven's sake, calm down. He went out, I tell you. Calm down, Miss Miller. What I got here in this little bag is a bum shelf. I got to find the chief. Well, I told you he probably won't be back at all. He said something about stopping at that publishing place. Going on home when he was finished. Yeah, published. What? Music publishing? Yeah. Holy smoke, I mean, my boy. The great white way I fit. That's right. He read your report and decided to make the arrest himself. Oh, no. Well, what's the matter? Call a car, Miss Miller. What? Come on, step on it. This is much worse than the chief thinks. You have it right, Mr. Howard. Yes. For 10 bucks, I write music or fit your poem. I'll give you a printed copy. Well, imagine that. Yeah, and a recording, Mr. Howard. Yes. We guarantee to send it to a big radio network. Well, I am delighted. Hey, you'll take my $10 now. Right. Sure, it makes everything easy to keep track of. Yes, here you are, sir. Thank you, Mr. Howard. And thank you. That does it. I think you're both under arrest. All right. That's right. Hey, what kind of... Who are you? The district attorney, Madison. Now come on, get your hats and coats. Both of you, I've wasted enough time. Harry, do something with this. Listen, you can't pinch us. What for? For fraud. Now, do you come downstairs or should I ask one of the officers? Oh, no. Wait a minute. But... You all right? All right. Why, of course, Miss Miller. Why shouldn't I be? Hey, now listen. Don't do him, Harry. Please. Chief at Princeton? That's right. Harrington for fraud. Yeah, well, you can change it if you want a chief to murder. Murder? No. Harry, don't let him murder. Shut up, Dolly. Chief, it's true. Look, Harrington, there's a phonogram right over here. Have you got a minute, Chief? This record is really hot. Can you work it, Miss Miller? Sure. It's easy, Harrington. Now, just let me get the record. You can't buy it in here like that. Quiet, Madison. You're already under arrest. All right, go on, Harrington. Let's hear that record. Yeah, just the last part will do it, Miss Miller. Okay. Gee, Harry, you knocked him cold. Dumb, cluck. Pick up the phone, Dolly. Stand still, you two. Yeah. What did you hit him with? Just a paperweight. He'll come around. Pick up the phone. Yeah. Crazy kid. Now, what'll we tell him? Oh, I'll get rid of him somehow. What's the matter? Will you hear this, Chief? What? Gee, Harry. Yes, plenty. Turn it off, Miss Miller. Harry, no. Do something, Harry. Sorry, Dolly. I'm afraid the two of you have already done quite enough. Come on, Harrington. Let's go. Your district attorney will return in just a moment to bring you the solution to tonight's case. But first, to every girl, a word out one of your greatest assets, your natural good looks. Every girl was born with at least one touch of beauty. One claim to charm. I mean that warm, winning beauty in her smile. In your smile. Make the most of your smile. Remember to give your smile the thoughtful care it deserves. Remember that Ipanna toothpaste is good for your smile. Remember the fact. According to a nationwide survey, dentists recommend Ipanna 2 to 1 over any other dentifers. And what's more, these dentists prefer Ipanna 2 to 1 for their own personal use over any other toothpaste on the market. Ipanna cleans teeth clean. Safely too. And followed by gentle massage promotes the health of your gums. Help your dentist help your smile. Begin now getting your Ipanna smile. Taste the freshness. Feel the cleanness. See the sparkle. See how you look with an Ipanna smile. Just try Ipanna. Ipanna toothpaste. Now here is your district attorney. I'm happy to report that with Harrington's unusual evidence against them, ladies and gentlemen, Harry Madison and Dolly will pay the full penalty demanded for the murder of Tim Newton. That was certainly something, wasn't it, Harrington? Star routine, Miss Miller. After the medical examiner said Tim Newton died from a blow on the head, I started to follow up the leads. Yes, the label on his rhyming dictionary took you out of his hometown, didn't it, Harrington? That's right, Chief. It was easy to trace the dictionary to him because it was the only one they'd sold in years. And then while you were there getting the whole story, that recording arrived addressed to him in the mail. Sure, of course we had a pretty good case without it, Miss Miller, but the record sure clinched the deal. Yes, I'll say it did. As we know now, Dolly didn't turn off the recording machine at the time of Tim Newton's death. Yes, and what's worse, she sent that same record in the mail, thinking it was just another one of his songs. Boy, oh boy, I guess they never learned. The old battle goes right on. That's right, Harrington. And speaking of battles, I wonder how many people realize that there are thousands of our boys all overseas on occupation duty, many also on duty here at home. Yes, that's quite right, Miss Miller, and just as in past years, we can show our appreciation for the job they're doing through our Red Cross. Wherever American forces are stationed, our Red Cross is on duty, helping them with personal and family problems, lending a friendly hand in military hospitals, too. That's a pretty big job, isn't it, Chief? Yes, a tremendous job, one that will need the support of all of us. And it's another reason, friends, why your contribution to the Red Cross right now is so important. Give and give generously to your local Red Cross drive. Remember, as our President says, many times a year the people turn to the Red Cross, and once a year the Red Cross turns to the people. And that time is now. Right. Oh, Chief, what about next week? Well, next week, ladies and gentlemen, our story concerns a man and his love for his daughter. It's a tremendously dramatic story I'm sure you'll enjoy. It's the case of the Grand Old Man, and I cordially invite you to join us for it. And so until then, thank you and good night. It's new. It's quick. It's BenEx. B-E-N-E-X. The new brushless wonder shave that wilts your whiskers so they whisk off like Mr. Tri-BenEx. The special beard softening formula makes your beard one-fifth water, makes whisker cutting a breeze. BenEx doesn't clog your razor, instantly rinses off razor and hands, which all adds up to quick, easy, comfortable shave. BenEx. B-E-N-E-X. BenEx. Brushless shave cream. The names of all characters in a nice dramatization are fictitious and inter-assembles to names of living persons or actual aces is purely coincidental. Our stars with Jay Justin in the title role, Len Toilas Harrington and Vicky Bola as Miss Miller. The music is under the direction of Peter Van Steeden. The program is produced and directed by Edward A. Byron and written by Robert Shaw. Mr. District Attorney was originated by Philip H. Lorde. Remember, eye-panna for the smile of beauty. Sal Hepatica for the smile of health. Bristol Myers invites you to tune in again next week for Duffy's Tavern and Mr. District Attorney. This NBC, the national broadcasting company.