 Mrs. Perkins won the prize, but I got in the biggest pickle at the county fair. This is another in the adventures of America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, Johnny Daller. At insurance investigation, Johnny Daller is only an expert. At making out his expense account, he is an absolute genius. Expense account submitted by special investigator Johnny Daller. To Home Office, Corinthian Liability and Bonding Company, Terminal Building, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of my expenditures during my assignment as bodyguard to Grand Blue Ribbon Champion, Spotted Poland China Hog, Rosie Baron of Iowa, or how you cast my pearls of wisdom before swine, or out of the fire into the frying pan. Expense account item one, $76.80. Train and bus fare Hartford to the town of Carver, county seat of Carver County, Iowa. Expense account item two, $2.50. One Coke, three handkerchiefs, a bottle of salt, tablets, and sunglasses, with which to combat the corn bell heat. Item three, six bits, jetny ride to the Carver County fairgrounds. Undoubtedly named that because the band I found in the midst of playing its afternoon concert was only fair. Hey, uh, uh, friend. How's that? I'm looking for a pig named Rosie Baron of Iowa. Tell me where I'll find his cage. Cage? They don't keep Rollo in no cage. Rollo? Who's he? Well, that's short for Rosie Baron of Iowa. Oh, yeah, yeah, any fool would know that. Uh-huh. Now, you tell me where he is. See that building over there, the livestock building? Yeah. Well, you will find Rollo in the swine wing. Swine wing? Well, that conjures up a dainy picture of flying pig. Fred Rollo won't ever do much flying. Ways $9.80. Oh, well, thanks a lot. Uh, old neighbor. Yeah? Why don't you try slipping out of that there cold? You won't find it nearer or sweaty. Oh, yeah. Thanks, Hiram. Oh, he didn't even wait to be my best friend. It was 96 in the shade, but things were getting hotter. I got some screams from the livestock building with the only things that could bring me on the run. With Hiram on my heels. Hey, what do you suppose that was? First, I ran into a stranger just outside the entrance. Get out of the way. Let me out of here. Then I ran into the door. Somebody do something. Don't just stand there. Where's the sheriff? Hey, Hiram. Hiram, what happened? Didn't you see? Didn't you hear? That's our woman's Mrs. Tiller. Somebody must have stole her diamond brooch. Oh, good. I was afraid somebody might have put the snatch on Rollo. Her husband owns Rollo. They must have been taking her pictures of Mrs. Tiller in the middle of a crowd. And when they had her smile in real pretty, then FlashBob went off and then somebody must have reached around behind her and yanked the brooch and started shooting a gun in there. That's a tried and true method of busting up a crowd to help make a getaway. You think anybody saw who did it? Uh-uh, couldn't. Those flashes would have had them blind as bats for a minute. There's the sheriff. What's his name? Oh, yeah, that's Harry Bluett. Harry Bluett? Yeah. Sounds like a slogan from the Republican campaign. Hey, here. Here, you. Oh, wait a minute. Let's go. Everybody around here is trying to get my coat off. Come on, Sheriff. Loose the habit. All right. Now, never mind the fancy talking, fella. I saw something pass between you and one of the thieves just outside the door. Oh, you're out of your mind. That guy bumped into me. He came crashing out of here and I happened to be in the way. I'll bet you happened to be in the way. Accidentally on purpose. Now, that's an early American comeback. Well, that's the way it was. Now, look, I won't ask you for a search warrant, Sheriff. You think I got the brooch on me? Start looking. All right. I will. All right. Now, in that pocket, cigarettes and a lighter. I see them. You see? And in that pocket, handkerchiefs and salt tablets. Salt tablets? Now, why don't you look in my inside coat pocket and there you'll find my wallet and identification. I was coming to that... Well, dollar, insurance investigator, Well, what brought you out here? I'm a piggy sitter for the Corinthian Liability and Bonding Company. They wrote a policy for $25,000 on your friend, Rollo, Rosie Baron of Iowa. Who ever heard of taking out a $25,000 insurance policy on a haul? I did. And right now, I wish I hadn't. Some people play high premiums for publicity, Sheriff. And that's what the Blue Ribbon Prime Packing Company is doing in this case. Now, may I have my wallet back? I want to count my money. Now, here. All right. Here's your wallet. You may think you're quite that joker, young fella, but I'm telling you right now I'm going to keep an eye on you. I've got a better idea than that, Harry. If I were you, I'd go looking for that photographer. What? What'd he do? He took the picture. And there's just a chance the thief may be in it. Say, that gives me an idea. Sheriff, whoever says you aren't smart makes no mistake. Rollo, the prized porker, wasn't hard to find. First, I followed a few signs. Then it was a matter of closing in on a contented series of juicy, slurping grunts that came blurping up out of a succulent mound of Louisiana yams. Rollo was all fat and a yard wide. His table manners weren't much. He didn't look very smart, but he sure looked healthy. 980 pounds on the hoof. A fine figure of a pig. Pardon me, miss. Could you tell me who's in charge around here? Well, just for the moment I am. Well, I'm trying to find a Mr. Worthington Tiller. I take it owns this monster. Monster? What? What's the matter? Have I said something wrong? You certainly have. And you've also said it to the wrong person. In case you don't know it, my name is Alva Anderson. Oh, my name is Johnny Dollar. How do you do? What's all this got to do with Rollo? Nothing. I just raised Rosie Barron of Iowa from a succulent. That's all. Trying to get away from you, didn't it? Sorry, Miss Anderson. I apologize. To you too, Rollo. Sorry about the interruption, Miss Anderson. Some fool made off with my wife's diamond brooch. How's this excitement affecting Rollo? I hope he hasn't lost any weight. He took it very well, Mr. Tiller. Oh, good, good. This gentleman wants to see you, Mr. Dollar. Oh, from the insurance company. Good, good. Well, I'm glad you're here. We'll have your picture taken right away with my wife and Rollo. Oh, it'll make grand publicity for Blue Ribbon Prime Packers. I don't mind having my picture taken. Just so long as your wife doesn't mind having people pinch your diamond brooches. Oh, well, don't worry about that. It was fully insured. Oh, that kind. The thing I want you to worry about is Rollo here. As president of Blue Ribbon, I paid Miss Anderson $10,000 for this magnificent swine. And I don't want anything to happen to it. You bought him for $10,000, insured him for $25,000, and you don't want anything to happen to him? I don't mind paying those exorbitant premiums when I get back the kind of publicity this will bring in. I can see it in the papers now. America's Fabulous Insurance Investigator, Johnny Dollar, sent from Hartford, Connecticut to guard the life of that fabulous prize swine, Rosie Baron of Iowa. Well, Mr. Tiller, I don't mind getting my name in the paper for a pig just so long as it is not in the obituary column. I just couldn't stand having my tombstone read, Johnny Dollar no longer am. He gave up his life for a great big hand. My tombstone tagline was over the head of Mr. Tiller, but it went over right nicely with Alba Anderson, who paid off with a smile. I parlayed that into a conversation that helped me pass the time while guarding Bravo, the poor man's blue boy. By the time it was over, Alba knew a lot about me and I knew a lot about pigs. You know, your beautiful eyes, Alba. Mr. Dollar, do you know it's really interesting about the origins of the swine? Well, it's estimated that the Chinese people domesticated swine about 2,900 B.C. And not only that, but I'm sure you'd like Hartford. Mr. Dollar, you probably don't know this, but a pig is one of the most important food animals. It's an economical converter of grain and other feeds into body tissue, as the products of which furnish meat and fat for human consumption. Alba Darling, I'll only be in town for a little while. And not only that, but people who say that pigs are dirty don't know what they're talking about. Why sanitation is essential to good health, rapid growth and development, and profitable production. Oh, Rollo, what have you got that I haven't got? Alba stuck around because of my charms for Rollo's. But she was still there at the changing of the guard. Well, I'd missed a tiller in person. Came to relieve me long enough for a trip to the dining hall. And what do you think they had for dinner? What else? Baked ham. Oh, dinner was wonderful, Johnny. Coming from you after eating baked ham, that sounds practically cannibalistic. Oh, Johnny, stop. More coffee? No, I've had it. Alba, you know, there's something I've been trying to say to you for the past five hours. Yes, Johnny? Well, it's just that, well, I want... Oh, Mr. Sheriff. Oh, why doesn't he blow his siren? Well, I have to be going. It's time to get Rollo ready for the winter's trade past the grandstand. I'll just run along. I'll just go with you. Darling, I want to talk to you. Well, I'll see you later, Johnny. Yeah. Well, Sheriff, hey, you'll be in a sort of investigated dollar. I knew you'd be interested in my method. Well, you're sure interfering with mine. Huh? Yeah. Oh, well, do you know what I did? What? I found that photographer, had that picture developed and rushed it up to the state capital. And they just called me. Dollar, there's no criminal in that photo. He's got that brooch and he's on the loose. Do you know what that means? Yeah. It means that you shouldn't be sitting here talking to me. Who is this villain? They say he's the... Oops, over here. Yeah. What? They say he's known as Little Rock. Originally, hail from Arkansas. You'd know him if you saw him. He's the fella that bumped into you. I want you to help me look for him. I take only one job at a time, Sheriff. Right now, I got to pick them up. And there goes the grand march. Well, in case I'm interested later, how much do you pay your special deputies a day? Seven dollars. And expensive. Sheriff Bluette, I'm afraid that blows it. The Carver County Pickle and Pie winners were lining up to lead the grand march. By the time I got to the grandstand, down at the tag end of the livestock echelon, there was a shiny white cab and trailer sporting the markings and models of the Blue Ribbon Brine Packing Company. An eye upon it perched on a platform and surrounded by a sturdy iron railing, stood that champion, the pride of the pork set, Rollo, Rosie Baron of Iowa. It was lovely. It was divine. I had a feeling it swelled my heart with pride. Here they were, products of the American home and the American soil. A fanfare of foodstuffs flowing from the horn of plenty. Just because of my association with Rollo, I felt that I was playing some small part in this gallant parade as it was started, the first leg of its journey. It was inspiring. It was thrilling. It was fun. All of a sudden it was downright frightening. As Rollo's chariot rolled by, I got an eye full of its driver. It was my comrade in collision, the guy who had put the snatch on Mrs. Tiller's diamonds, little Rocky from Arkansas. I added to my treasury of bankless tasks by trying to pin a tackle on a five-ton truck. I got a door handle on one hand, 20 more with one foot, and a couch and a teeth from an unexpected adversary. Knock him loose, Marlo. He's on the running board. Hey, what? Somebody was screaming and hollering. The truck went crashing to the press. And a wrong little piggy who wasn't staying at home. In just a moment, the second act of Johnny Dollar. But first, taking in the action from Johnny Dollar, are you? All right, that's good, because staying with CBS is the way you'll head straight for the big return from vacation eight days from now, Monday the 29th, the Flux Radio Theater, and all the other big Monday night CBS favorites. And by staying with CBS, you'll find more action later tonight with Bill Grant of Call the Police and Sam Spade, who'll be heard from on most of the same CBS station. Now, with our star, Charles Russell, we return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Johnny, are you all right? Can you get up? Oh, the skirt's willing. I'm not sure about my spine. Here, let me help. I'm the guy who goes around selling kitties never to hitch rides on trucks. Well, nobody can say I didn't make a dent now. I was wonderful the way you tried. But what are you gonna do now? Right now, I don't know. Any place I can think of at the moment, or I might find a hot pig, is a barbecue stand. Oh, this is no time to be funny. Well, look, up until now, all the lads are on me, kids. So let me be the judge, huh? Well, what are you gonna do? Well, first, I'm gonna practice my arithmetic and see what adds up. You can't unload a stolen pig in a pawn shop. So, question number one is, where do you unload it? Where would you go? Well, where would I... Boy, I'd never thought of it. Well, here's what I figured. The rollo on the hoof is too well known to peddle for anything like the dough he's really worth. I mean, he's not like a big diamond that you can cut up and lift. Or is he? What is a going price on pork? The market this morning was at $23.50. Oh, that kind of money hardly sounds like Little Rocky's kind of project. But maybe things are tough. By the way, Alba, have you ever been in Arkansas by any chance? No. Why do you ask? That's wondered. Hey, darling, darling, just a minute. I want to talk to you. Oh, come on. You have blood on himself. Yes, Sheriff? Would you mind, Alba? I was just leaving. How could she be that cold on such a hot night? Huh? What's bothering you, Sheriff? I saw your little performance, darling, when you leapt at that truck. Just how hard was you really trying? How hard was I? Why, you ought to punch you in the nose, badge or no badge? Now, now, don't you go getting happy. I just want you to know that I don't fool easy. When I'm on a case, I'm suspicious of everybody. Yeah, that must be rough on your wife. How often do you have her in handcuffs? Huh? Well, uh... Oh, look, Sheriff, all I need from you is the use of a car so I can go looking for old Lordhead. Oh, no, you don't. There's enough missing around here as it is. Rollo, Miss Tiller's jewelry, and I ain't about to add a county vehicle to the mess. And besides, I ain't want to keep an eye on you. Good, you might learn something. Come on. Here, wait a minute. Where are you going? Over to the ferris wheel. That truck hasn't been off the fairgrounds in more than a couple of minutes. I want to get a look at the countryside. Ferris wheel? Say, that gives me an idea. I hoped it would. Come on. Say, you know, Sheriff, I don't know very much about this farmside ferriting racket. Well, there's more to it than meets the eyes, I can tell you that. Oh, well, I bet there is. Tell me, didn't I see a feed trough on Rollo's truck with a lot of mash in it? Well, now let's see. If he ate yams this afternoon, he'd eat mash tonight, all right. Does mash pick up any kind of a smell? Oh, sour as swill. But the pig seems to like it. How does this sound, you sheriff? Suppose right after you take your ride to the top of the ferris wheel, to case the countryside, we were to get ourselves a nice hungry pig. Say, that gives me an idea. We could take that pig, and he could smell that mash in the air and sniff out the trail of that truck. Sheriff, if you weren't a genius, I wouldn't be surprised. Oh, sure. It was planting time in Iowa that night, at least for ideas. Two of which I had planted in the not-too-fertile mind of Sheriff Harry Bluett. And as long as it took us to walk on the trotting track to the ferris wheel, it came harvest time for notion number one. Okay, Mr. Okay, I'm the sheriff. I want you to run me up to the top of that wheel and hold me there long enough for me to get a look around. When I was stopped with Harry Bluett sitting in his little cage at the top, I pulled a low trick on a high sheriff. I bought a pink lemonade from the juice stand next to the ferris wheel, walked over to the motor that rolled the big heap, unscrewed the cap on the gas tank and had a good long drink. It wasn't doing to people's stomachs what it did to that motor. You might well remember this harmless little deceit the next time you have occasion to get rid of a sheriff. And if publicity is a little too expensive, I demand that you do something. Now, don't worry, Mr. Tiller, I am going to do something. And I'll thank you to remember that the only ones who stand to get hurt right at this point are the insurance companies that wrote the policies on your pig and your wife's diamond brooch. Why should we worry? My brooch is insured for way over the valley, dear. Hortense! You keep flapping that loud tongue of yours and the very first thing you know, they'll be accusing us. Why, they wouldn't dare. Oh, yes, we would, Mrs. Tiller. But we're just not the time to... A $15,000 profit on a pig and whatever else you could make on your jewelry might make anybody the type, Mrs. Tiller. I beg your pardon. Now, now, now, now, see here, dear the dollar. I've had just about enough of your slanderous implications. I have a few thoughts. You might, Profit Bindman. Go ahead, Worthingson. Mom always interested in profit, Tiller? My father had the same thing happen to him back in 1902. That's right. Remember, dear? Yes. In Nebraska. He bought a prize pig at a fancy price and then the scoundrel had sold it to him, turned around and stole it back. Here, here, here. What do you think of that? Would this be a suggestion that we throw the young lady who sold your pig to you in the pokey on the strength of something that happened 37 years ago? Well, there you go. That's for you to decide, Doller. Just don't say I didn't warn you. I see. Yeah. If you don't have an orchid depending on the young lady, try suspicion. Grandstand, watching the free attractions, I had a good chance to scout the fairground for Alba Anderson, from whom I wanted to learn a little bit more about the habits of not only pigs, but their ex-owners. A trail, let me pass the home-baked cakes, hybrid corn, the watermelon pickle, tractor and harrow exhibits, and all the way back to where I'd first met her, Rollo's pen in the swine wing of the livestock building. But when I got there, Rollo's cupboard was bare. Alba was leaving for the rear door in the company of a small, tough-looking gent carrying a sack over his shoulder. Name of, Little Rocky from Arkansas. I could hardly believe it, but they piled the car and hauled off on the road. At the risk of adding one last insult to the most recent injury I'd inflicted upon Sheriff Bluitt, I stole his car and went dusting up the highway in a hot pursuit. There's nothing easier to follow than a red taillight on a clear night, and a bright Mazda ruby tacked onto the rear of Little Rocky's car led me around the village of Carver and 11 miles out to the pastures, to a shack hidden in a grove of elm trees a hundred yards off the road. I parked the car. I legged it in. From 25 feet away from the house I could call the roads through an open window. They were all there. The Rocky, the strong-armed man who would knock me off the running board, Al Vanerson, and last but not least, they would follow all 980 pounds of them and most important to me, still alive. This is all the sweet potatoes that was left. First we go through them and then we'll be ready for you, Albert. Oh, but I told you I don't have it. We'll see about that later. Hey, Milo, don't get the porker excited. I didn't do that. Put the sack on the table. Then when we look at him, I'm gonna throw him out the window and away from him. Now, hurry up. All right. Well, it ain't this one, huh? It ain't this one either. Nope. Ain't this one shut up just a little. Well, I just... And from now on, from you, no thinking. Anybody dumb enough to stash a $30,000 hunk of jewelry and pick food ought to go see a head doctor. Oh. Through the open window, I was being bombarded by sweet potatoes and facts. While making a getaway at the ripping the brooch from Mrs. Tiller's throat, Little Rocky's accomplice had suffered a sudden attack of panic. I hid in the brooch in one of Rollo's lunchtime yams. Whether that jam was inside the piggy or out, they and I were apparently just on the verge of learning. I got another snack today, which right now has given me a great big bellyache. You know all about pigs. What do we do about it? Well, Rocky was yellow. He wouldn't rub him out. Look who's talking. Here, take my 38 if you're so tough. Yeah, I thought so. Now shut up. Well, I ain't killin' no piggy with him just standin' there lookin' at me. Hey, if he'd only make a break for it, I'd move him down. Ah, you. Now look, baby. We'll kill him if we got him. We want that chunk of ice, and we want it fast. Milo, tease him into the corner with a sweet potato. We're throwin' him all out the window. Oh, please, Mr. Rocky, don't. You shut up, too, and sit down. Close your eyes if you want him. Oh, please, Mr. Rocky. In the manner of Sheriff Bluett, I had a idea, given to me, of course, by Rocky. Alba was sitting in the corner. Rollo was scratching his side by rubbing it against the opposite. And Rocky and Milo were standing shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room, ready to advance on him. I groped around in the dark until I found one in the end, and, taking his sweet potato delicately in my hand, I tossed it through the window so that it would roll to a point just behind Rocky and his pal, Milo. Rollo took my bait and, getting to it, knocked his two would-be executioners and a heap on the floor. I took over from there, jumping to the window and applying a kitchen-reducing enemies to a state of unconscious surrender. They gave out, Alba gave up, and Rollo gave me a dirty look. Well, Mr. Tiller, here he is, safe and sound, good as new, fat and sassy. Well, well, good, good, congratulations. And not only that, but in him someplace, he not only has a good fighting heart, but also that diamond brooch of your wife's. Oh, yes, very interesting, very interesting. Well, I'd better go charter a plane. Rollo is due in Kansas City at noon tomorrow. Oh, but it might upset him, Mr. Tiller. Rosie Baron of Iowa's never flown before. He might lose weight. Well, what's the big hurry to go into Kansas City? Is he booked for a personal appearance? Oh, no. No, no, hardly that. He's due to be slaughtered at a special ceremony. All the plans are made. I wouldn't want to disappoint my boys. They've been looking forward to this. How do you like that? It's almost murder, for all. Oh, Johnny. Come on, let's get out of here, Alvin. Gosh, who would have ever thought I, Johnny Duller, would ever gotten so attached to a pig? Expense account, item four, $3.50. Dinner for Alvin and me. A vegetable dinner, by the way. And speaking of that, it reminds me, if you find a $30,000 brooch in a pork chop, it'll only mean that the Blue Ribbon Prime Packing Company didn't have much luck when they went looking for it. Expense account, item five, $20. One new gold-plated badge, which I sent to Sheriff Harry Bluett, appeasement for having stranded him atop that ferris wheel, for stealing his car, and for suggesting that he use a hungry pig for a bloodhound. Oh, the porter followed the mash sent all right. They found Sheriff Bluett searching an old mash factory eight miles the wrong side of town. Item six, $76.80. Bus and train fare, Carver, Iowa, back to Hartford, Connecticut. I'm still wondering every morning at breakfast time, what else can he eat with eggs? He said, ham or bacon or sausage. And maybe you don't think that's a problem, having known a certain champion named Rollo, Rosie Baron of Iowa. Expense account total $1463. Yours, um... Truly, Johnny Dollar. Truly, Johnny Dollar is produced and directed by Norman McDonnell and stars Charles Russell with script by Paul Dudley and Gil Doud. Featured in the cast were Parley Bear, Sammy Hill and John Daener, with Junius Matthews and Morrison, Jack Krushen and Paul Dubov. Pinto Kovig was Rollo. The special music is written and conducted by Leith Stevens. Be sure to be with us at the same time next week when another most unusual expense account is handed in by... Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Your hit parade on parade will be back tonight in the familiar CBS Jack Benny time with the great tunes of August 12 years ago. Wheatley Lonnie and Where or When. Many another still green in your memory will be among the hits you will hear. Speaking of hits, put down August 29th this year in your little book. That's when Arthur Godfrey and his talent scouts, the stars of Lux Radio Theatre, my friend Irma and Bob Hawke, return to join InterSanctum. So make your Monday nights a regular date with CBS. This is Roy Rowan speaking. Stay tuned now for your hit parade on parade. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.