21st Precinct, Sergeant Burns. I can hear you. What's the trouble there? Is he all alone?
How much is on the clock? Two dollars and what? Why can't you pay it? Why'd she lose it?
Where? You are in the master room of the 21st Precinct, the Nerve Center. A call is coming
through. You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call from this minute until the final
report is written in the 124 room at the 21st Precinct. All right, you're driving ahead.
Drive her into the station house. We'll talk about it when you get here. Just drive around
the station. We'll get it all settled here. 21st Precinct. It's just lines on a map of
the city of New York. Most of the 173,000 people wedged into the nine tenths of a square
mile between 5th Avenue and the East River wouldn't know if you asked them that they
lived or worked in the 21st. Whether they know it or not, the security of their persons,
their homes, and their property is my job. My job and the job of the 160 patrolmen, 11
sergeants, and four lieutenants of whom I am the boss. My name is Cannelly, Frank Cannelly.
I'm captain in command of the 21st. What makes a city? Not buildings, not subways, not business.
People make a city. From dawn to midnight, from midnight to dawn, the rich and the poor
and the good and the bad pour their lives together and stir up the city. As in the 21st,
a little over two weeks ago. I was working my 6 p.m. to 8 a.m. tour. At 1.55 a.m. following
patrol, I returned to the station house. In the muscle room, Sergeant Burns was on the
boxes. Lieutenant Snyder was the desk officer. A hat driver and a well-dressed, very pretty
young woman, about 20, stood in front of the railing. I walked around behind the desk to
make an entry in the blotter that I had returned from patrol. What's going on, Sergeant? Nothing
much, sir. It's been a quiet tour. Look, I got no time to stand here and discuss the pros
and cons. There was $2.40 on the clock. No, I wanted my money. That's all. I'll pull you
if I heard about her. I lost my wallet. Hello, Lieutenant, Cap'l. Lady, just give me the
$2.40. She says she lost her wallet. But why couldn't she look and see if she had her wallet
before she got in my cab at Idlewild Airport, Lieutenant? Why does she have to wait until
we get to 8th Street and Park Avenue before she finds it out? I looked in my purse for
a cigarette and I noticed the wallet was missing. I told you I'd give you a call. Lady, when
I turned the cab in at 4 o'clock in the morning, the boys want cash for what's on the clock.
You don't want cash. I don't have the cash. I lost my wallet. Why do I get all the sad
stories? I never... Where were you going from Idlewild, Miss? She said Penn State.
All right, 19. What's your name, Miss? Elizabeth Arrowwood. Do you have any identification?
No, it was all in my wallet, Lieutenant. I got my self-book down. I'm not into it.
What's your name? Swinogy Joe Swinogy. Well, now look, Joe, these things happen. But only
to me. Why? Who are you, anyway? I'm Captain Finnelli. Oh, take your pardon. I'd just like
to know who I'm talking to. You're wasting time here. Not news to me, Captain. I didn't
want to come here. I'd suggest that you take the young lady's check and get back on the job.
The only other thing to do is file a complaint against her. I got a good mind to do just that.
What is happening in Orton, your old friend? 21st, please bring Sergeant Ryan. Do you, uh,
know anybody around here that you can call and get the money from? Will you take your
meal, Matt? I don't know a soul, not a star. I'm from out of town. You wouldn't want to
spend the morning in court, would you, Joe? I want to spend the morning sleeping. All right,
give me the check and let me get out of here. Oh, I really appreciate it. You don't know
how much I appreciate it. I am, Miss. You want a pen? Oh, yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
How do you want me to get out? Just the cash. That's good enough. Two dollars and forty
cents. I'll make it four dollars. That'll be a good tip for all the trouble I cause you.
What's up to you, lady? Um... Yeah? You know I lost my wallet and I don't have a cent of
cash. I couldn't make it the ten dollars and you're giving me six dollars. No, you couldn't.
Now listen, just make it for two dollars and forty cents. Give it to me and let me get
out of here. Oh, no, sir. There's no harm in that. Twenty a harm. Twenty-first
twenty-first. Enough of the lurching burns. Yes, sir. Hold on. Captain Cannelli is the
division lieutenant for you. Okay. Now, lean up against the desk to the right. I'll take
it here. Captain Cannelli. Yes, Deb? No, I can't speak.
No, I can't spare him. I'm short two sergeants now. Waters went sick yesterday.
He's inclined on vacation. No, I can't. No. No, I know there's no harm in asking.
All right, Deb. That's okay. So long. How is Sergeant Waters? Captain, you hear from him?
No, he's better. His wife called last night. Oh, that's good to hear. I'm really sorry to cause so much trouble.
I made it out for four dollars anyway. Here. Braxton, Pennsylvania. Where's Braxton, Pennsylvania?
In Philadelphia. A little time did I get the phone from you. That's right. Oh, look, thanks.
You're welcome. Can I go now? Yeah, go ahead. I'll be seen. Bye. I can't blame him, I guess.
Twenty-first, please, Sergeant Burns. But I couldn't help it. Singleton, do you live in
Banks? Yes, sir, that's right. Put him on here. No, Philadelphia.
What are you doing in the yard, Lieutenant Snyder? Well, it's a long story.
Listen, you put unidentified on the UF-95 tag for that DOA. The aided card says he was registered
into the hotel as Herbert Roudon. Which is right. Miss, walk across the hall out of my office, will you?
Over there? Yes, that's right. The cards in the pocket show what name? And just have a seat in there.
Yes, sir, if you want. Now, how do you spell it? E-L-R-E. Oh, Sergeant, did you check and see
if her wallet was turned in on at Idlewild? It came in a minute before you did. All right, I'll be in my office.
Yes, sir.
Elizabeth Earlwood. How do you spell that? E-R-L-W-O-O-D.
What were you doing out at Idlewild? Well, you see, I came to New York on the train with a friend of mine.
She left on a train to Europe at midnight. I was going back to Philadelphia. Oh, I know, that felt bad.
I'm sorry. And I put her on the plane and took the card to go back to Pony Station.
And I opened my pocketbook for a seat right on where my wallet was missing. I thought I was through it, I couldn't help it.
Did you have your pocketbook open at the airport? Oh, yes, several times.
I bought her a couple of magazines and we went to the bar and had a drink. Several times.
You didn't miss it before you got in the cab. No, sir, I told you I was going to smoke a cigarette.
You were on your way to Penn Station to get a train to Philadelphia? Yes, sir, that's right, to Philadelphia.
Then I heard the train's there for Braxton. That's on the other side of Philadelphia, on the main line.
I really couldn't help it. I can't blame the cab driver for being mad. He's entitled to his money, but I couldn't help it.
I didn't want to lose my wallet. Yes, I know. Do you have any friends in New York?
Well, there are a couple of people. The ones I went to school with, but I wouldn't know where they are exactly.
Would you like to call your home? Oh, I don't think that would be a good idea at this time of night.
You see, I didn't even tell my mother and father I was coming to New York. They'd get scared to go.
She's nervous anyway, and he's probably not home. He's going to town a lot, Philadelphia, that is.
Grover C. Irwood, did you ever hear of him? No. Oh, he's a pretty big man.
Well, if you don't call him, you have to do something.
All I want to do is get to Penn Station and get on the train, that's all. I had a return ticket that got me in my wallet, too.
How much money did you have? Oh, I don't know, students have a forty dollars something like that, not much.
Excuse me. Captain Cannelli.
Sergeant Barnes, Captain. I called both the 103rd and the Port Authority police at Idlewild. There's been no wallet turned in.
Okay, thanks. Your wallet hasn't been turned in, it's not as yet.
Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do. Look at me. I look terrible, don't I?
Well, there's no reason for you to have been crying.
I'll be all right. I just had the money to get home, that's all I needed. About ten dollars.
Colton, would you pass the check for me for ten dollars? Miss.
Ten dollars, that's all. I could get a train home and pay the cashier from the Blackstone station to my house. That's all it would take, ten dollars.
Look, Miss Irwood, if I cashed a check for everyone to walk in the door.
Good, I promise it's good.
Why, don't dogs cry?
I'll leave my watch with you. Look, it's a beautiful watch. My father gave it to me. 17-0, the Ennagold case. You keep it until you're sure about the check.
Oh, never mind the watch, Miss Irwood. Just write out the check, I'll cash it for you.
Oh, sorry. You don't have any idea how this saved my life. It really saved my life.
I took the young woman's check and gave her ten dollars from my own pocket. She pouted her nose, snacked me profusely, and left the station house at 2.20 a.m.
The rest of the tour was quiet. At 8 a.m. I turned out the platoon for the day tour, signed the blotter, and left the precinct to go off duty.
It was a heavy week. We were plagued by a series of housebreakings. There was a three-alarm fire, two armed robberies, a rash of car thefts, and a traffic fatality during the next few days.
All in addition to the ordinary conferences. On Friday morning at 8 a.m. I arrived in the precinct for my day tour.
I turned out the platoons, then returned to my office to read the reports and communications which had accumulated.
These I signed while I spoke to George Underwood, the precinct youth patrolman, in regard to his plans for a championship playoff among softball teams from the various playgrounds in the precinct.
About 10.30 I had finished the paperwork and interviews. I walked out into the master room.
21st precinct, Sergeant Brands.
Oh, Rolf. Walk around to 346 and see the super. City marshal's on his way to serve an eviction of it.
Super says a tenant might give a little trouble. He's a fighter.
Yeah, yeah, that's right.
Okay, let me know.
What have we got, Sergeant?
Pretty much, Captain. Pretty quiet.
Hey, Captain. Can I have a minute?
Yeah, sure. Hello, man.
Hi.
Hello, Lieutenant.
Hi. What's the trouble?
Listen, Captain. Did you take a check from a girl a few days ago? A kid, 18 to 20, honey colors here. Very pretty.
Yes, that's right.
For $10. How did you know about it?
I just got a call from downtown. We were notified by the Pennsylvania State Police.
With Ford?
You're kidding.
Your bank will notify you today, I guess.
The girls have been papering the town with those checks. Put out a couple dozen of them.
How do you like that?
The forgery squad got in the hole this morning. Somebody down there recognized your name. They phoned up and asked who was you.
It's me.
Who is she? Do they know?
No. She's really laying down that paper all over New York. Just small amounts, but she sure picked a good name to forge.
Mrs. Elizabeth Hans Erlewood. Big name in Philadelphia.
That's the archer, doesn't it?
I do. That kid sold me a bill of goods. She came in here with a real sad story about losing her money.
That's what she's been using according to the forgery squad. Same story.
The bank down there just threw their hands in the air when all these checks started showing up.
She sold me. She really sold me. Yes, sir. Sweet, innocent, and in trouble.
Did you see how she hung that paper all over town if she sold you, Captain?
Does next time be kept? No, man. Next time I'll take the watch.
Bully.
An alarm was put out for the young woman who forged the name of Elizabeth Hans Erlewood to more than two dozen checks
and passed them on various merchants and individuals in the city of New York.
But the alarm didn't stop her. In the next few days, a dozen more such checks were refused payment by the bank at Braxton, Pennsylvania.
In New York, the investigation was handled by detectives of the forgery squad, one of the several organizations of specialized investigators
who operate on a citywide basis from the central office.
In the meantime, the tour-by-tour activities continued in the 21st precinct.
On Saturday, we had a bad homicide. On Sunday morning, a seven-year-old girl on a weighted church was struck by a hit-and-run driver on First Avenue.
Both her legs were broken, but she was more worried about her dress.
The house burglaries continued. No leads there.
Monday morning at 11.40, I returned to the precinct from patrol.
In the master room, Sergeant Burns was on the boxes. Lieutenant Snyder was on duty as a desk officer.
Hello there, Captain.
Hello, Captain.
What's going, Sergeant?
Nothing much, sir. It's a quiet tour. A couple of messages for you.
No, thanks.
That Mr. Escher wouldn't leave his first name. He said he'd call back.
Oh, I know who he is. Oh, is this one Congressman Thompson?
Yes, that's right. He said he'd be at that number until 2.30 p.m.
Do you want to find the blotter, Captain? I've got the entry, ma'am.
Yeah, all right, Ren.
21st Precinct, Sergeant Burns.
Watch that new pen, Captain. The ink really flowed.
All right. 70.
Thanks, Captain.
Oh, Sergeant, see if you can get Congressman Tarbon back for me.
Yes, sir.
I'll take it in my office.
When may I find Captain Cannelli, please?
Over here, ma'am. You'll have to make inquiries at the desk.
That's all right, Lieutenant. I'm Captain Cannelli.
How do you do? I'm Mrs. Elizabeth Hans Erwin.
Of Philadelphia?
Oh, you know me.
Well, let's say I've heard of you.
I'd like to talk to you, Captain.
In here, Mrs. Erwin.
Thank you.
Have a chair.
Thank you.
Well, somebody's been using your name in vain, Mrs. Erwin.
That's what I want to talk to you about, Captain Cannelli.
Oh, how do you pronounce it? Cannelli or Kennelly?
Kennelly.
Is it Mrs. Carnwood who shared with me on the Philadelphia Air Emotionary Board?
He was a Kennelly. Mrs. Byron Carnwood, is she your family?
No, I'm afraid not.
Oh, that's it. It was Kennedy.
What can I do for you, Mrs. Erwin?
You know, I'm not handling the investigation.
I'm just another victim in this case.
Yes, and it's too bad.
I know you were just performing an act of kindness.
You were being a good Samaritan.
I was trying to be.
You were, and I wanted to make restitution of the $10 you lost.
You're under no obligation to do that, Mrs. Erwin.
I think I am. It was $10, wasn't it?
Those checks were forged on your bank account.
The responsibility belongs to the first endorser.
The responsibility belongs to me, Captain.
You see, I know who forged all those checks.
Who?
Well...
Oh, excuse me.
Of course.
Captain Cannelli.
Captain, I have Congressman Tarman for you.
Oh, all right.
I'll just be a minute, Mrs. Erwin.
That's all right.
Hello, Frank.
Oh, I tried to reach you yesterday, Congressman.
Yes, I know. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you.
What can I do for you, Frank?
Well, just a little information, that's all, Congressman.
Do you know Father Cortella of St. Agnes?
Yes.
Well, he has a student he's very interested in.
The boy finished his first year at CCNY, and he's made excellent marks.
He's right up there at the top of his class.
Good athlete, nice young man.
Ah.
Well, there's not much money in the family.
They have a little hardware store.
The boy wants to get into West Point.
He'd be good.
Father Cortella knows there are competitive examinations
before you make your appointments.
He just wants to find out how to go about getting him on the list.
I told him I'd call you.
Sure, Frank. I'll have my administrative assistant
get in touch with Father Cortella, all right?
Fine. You want the boy's name?
No, no, not yet.
We have all the information on him from Father Cortella.
Well, thanks for calling, Frank.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Bye.
Once a good scenario, too.
Oh, it's all part of the job, Miss Irwin.
You, uh, you said you knew who forged those checks.
Yes, I do.
Who?
My daughter.
Oh.
Don't look so surprised, Captain.
I have a daughter that age.
My daughter Elizabeth.
Oh, really, forgery.
Her name is Elizabeth, too.
Not really forgery.
Is her middle name Hans?
No.
Does she have an account at that bank?
No, but she has an account at the bank in Philadelphia
in her own name.
She has money in there, plenty of money.
I deposit $50 a week to her account.
I don't understand why she does it.
I don't understand.
Have any officers come to see you at home, Mrs. Irwin?
Oh, yes.
A very nice young detective from the Pennsylvania State Police.
Very nice.
Did you tell him you suspected it was your daughter?
No.
Why not?
My husband told me not to.
I wanted to tell the bank to pay the checks
just to let them go through, but my husband told me not to.
Do you have any idea why your daughter is doing this?
She's forged and passed nearly 40 checks in New York alone.
I don't know.
I really don't.
She's had everything all her life, everything.
Not a thing she wanted we didn't give her.
And she just left home.
All of a sudden, the next thing we knew, the checks started.
I didn't even know she was in New York.
Why did she leave home, Mrs. Irwin?
I don't know.
Well, there must have been a reason.
It was something with her father.
What?
Well, it's really very personal.
Mrs. Irwin, your personal matter isn't personal anymore.
It's very public.
About 40 people in New York are victims of it.
That's rather not going to happen.
I'm afraid you have to.
Well, I'm involved in it too in a manner of speaking.
Yes?
Well, you see, my husband was away.
He told us he was going to Chicago on business.
The weekend came, and Liz was invited out to Wilmington
for a party on Saturday night.
She didn't want to go.
She never wants to go.
But I talked her into it.
Anyway, she went.
She had a very good time.
After the party, the young hostess and her friends
decided to go to an inn on the shore for coffee and a snack.
She saw her father there.
Oh?
He was with another woman.
How old is Liz?
19, she'll be 20 in October.
And did she talk to her father?
No.
Luckily, he didn't see her.
But she came home very upset.
I had no idea what the trouble was.
Finally, on Monday or Tuesday, she spoke to me.
Told me she'd seen him well.
I said, Liz, I'm sorry you had to find out this way,
but it's been going on for years.
Your father has his friends, and I have mine.
I swear to you.
And what did she say?
Nothing.
Nothing at all?
Well, as a matter of fact, I was just on my way out of the house
when I told her I was late for a dinner party.
And did she leave right away?
Oh, in a day or so.
Do you have any idea where she's staying in New York?
No.
Well, could she be with a friend?
We've only had one friend here.
I called her even before the check started,
but she hadn't heard from Liz.
Captain, that girl has had the best education money to give her.
She has a car all her own, a 1952 convertible all her own.
She has clothes, lots of clothes, and money of her own.
What made you decide to come to New York, Miss Elwood?
Well, to find her and bring her home.
That's an actual thing for a mother to do.
I want to get the things straightened out.
Besides, my friends would begin to ask questions.
Does your husband know you came?
No.
He'd be against it.
He's afraid she'll cause a lot of trouble
and doesn't want any trouble or any scandal.
He's very annoyed with Liz.
Is he?
I admit I don't understand it myself.
What's gotten into her?
Why would she do this to me?
Well, I'm not sure I can answer that, Miss Elwood.
I'm only a policeman.
I took Mrs. Elwood upstairs to the 21st Detective Squad
and introduced her to Lieutenant King.
He called Detective Scanlon of the Fauntary Squad
who was handling the squeals in this case.
Detective Scanlon, along with Lieutenant King,
interviewed Mrs. Elwood.
As she repeated the story she told me,
I went back to my office.
A new alarm was put out for the young woman
and a communication to the Pennsylvania State Police
advised them of the actual circumstances in the case.
The next day, orders came through from the chief inspector
instructing each precinct captain to accompany the patrol sergeant
on cabaret inspection at the rate of no less than two a night
until all cabarets were visited.
Delegates to two recent conventions had complained
that they were being overcharged in a few midtown nightclubs.
We were instructed to look for such violations of the state liquor law
and city licensing regulations as might lead to the clipping of patrons.
These included the lack of a bill of fare, plainly stating prices,
improper lighting, and mingling of entertainers and employees with patrons.
Everything looks all right here, Captain.
Yeah. Did you want to take a look in the kitchen?
Yes, sir.
Are they prepared to serve food?
Yes, sir. They're just cooked on the job.
All right. Let's go.
We can go around the corner to the high-low club, Captain.
We'll see.
Oh, just a second.
Wait here a minute.
Someone at the bar I want to talk to. Yes, sir.
Well, that depends, honey.
That depends on how you feel about it.
Excuse me. What's on your mind?
I want to talk to the young lady.
What do you want to talk to me about?
It's a private conversation, so I get lost.
I'm a police officer.
Oh, excuse me.
What do you want to talk to me about?
Now, lady, you remember.
Listen, what's the trouble anyway?
What's your name, mister?
Why do you want to know that?
Because this girl is wanted for passing 39 forged checks, that's why.
It's so, Carl. It's absolutely so.
Listen, I only met her tonight, only an hour ago.
What's your name?
Holt. Carl Holt.
That's the truth. You can ask her, isn't it the truth?
It's the truth.
Did you cash a check for her, Mr. Holt?
For me? No.
You wouldn't have, Carl. You wouldn't have. Everybody does.
Even policemen. Everybody loves me.
I called Sergeant Burns over and we took Liz or Wooden, her companion, to the station house.
On the way in, patrolman Novak, who had relieved Sergeant Burns on P.S., told me that Lieutenant King was in.
I instructed Sergeant Burns to resume his duties and went upstairs to the 21st squad.
After a few minutes of questioning, Carl Holt convinced us that he had in fact only met the girl that evening in another bar.
He gave his address and promised to appear again if needed.
Then he was allowed to go.
Detective Scanlon of the forgery squad was called.
While he was en route, Matt King and I talked to the girl.
Is that the only reason, Liz?
Well, I had to live.
You want to call your mother? You can place a call to her.
No, I don't want to call her. I don't want to talk to her.
Well, if you don't, Liz, I do. Is this phone to T.S. Matt?
That's right, yes.
I have nothing to say to her.
21st Precinct, Sergeant Burns.
This is Captain Kennelly.
Yes, sir.
Would you step in my office and look in the corner of my desk blotter?
There's a note with the number of Mrs. Elizabeth Hans Erwood in Braxton, Pennsylvania.
Braxton?
Yeah, that's right. Place a collect call to Mrs. Erwood at that number.
Right away, Captain.
You have a bank account of your own, Liz. Why'd you have to afford checks in your mother's name?
I don't know. It just seems like a foot.
What made you?
I don't know. If I knew, I'd tell you.
You know, you hurt a lot of people.
Did I? I didn't mean to.
About 40 people, including Captain Kennelly.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. You know I'm sorry, Captain.
I hope you are.
I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I just wanted to get money from people to prove they liked me, that's all.
If they were willing to take a check from me, that proved they liked me, didn't it?
That's all I wanted to prove.
You could have given checks on your own account to prove the same thing.
No, that's not so. It wouldn't prove the same thing.
It wouldn't prove the same thing because...
I don't know. It just wouldn't.
What were you doing out at Idlewild that night?
Idlewild?
Yes, the airport.
When?
When you said you didn't have money to pay the cab driver.
Oh.
What were you doing there?
I went out there just to pass a check, that's all.
I thought there would be a nice place.
I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd caused so much trouble. I really didn't.
If that's my mother, I don't want to talk to her. I don't.
Oh, I get it now.
Oh, I.
Captain Kennelly.
Sgt. Burns, Captain. I have Mrs. Orwood.
Oh, all right.
Go ahead.
Hello.
Captain Kennelly?
Yes, this is Captain Kennelly. We have Liz here, Mrs. Orwood.
Oh, we have? How is she? Is she all right?
I won't talk to her.
Yes, she seems all right.
May I talk with her?
Liz?
No, I told you no.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Orwood. She won't come to the phone.
Why won't she?
Well, she just refuses, Mrs. Orwood.
Well, tell her I'll be there. Tell her I love her.
Tell her I'll take the next train, the father, too.
All right. Goodbye.
Goodbye.
The next train.
I couldn't talk. I'm sorry. I couldn't.
I'm not ashamed of anything, but I couldn't talk to her.
She said to tell you that she loves him.
She and your father are taking the next train.
They won't be here.
They told the captain they wouldn't?
No, they won't.
All they'll do is send money.
They always send money.
They think it's the same phone, but it isn't.
It really isn't the same.
Is it?
No, Liz.
There's a big difference.
All the difference in the world.
21st precinct, Sergeant Barnes.
What do you mean you were robbed? Held up?
Where did this happen? Where?
Did he have a gun?
Well, there were two men.
When was this? Just now? How long ago?
And so it goes, around the clock, through the week, every day, every year.
The police precinct in the city of New York is a flesh-and-blood merry-go-round.
Anyone can catch the brass ring.
Or the brass ring can catch anyone.
21st precinct.
The actual account of the way the police work in the world's largest city is presented with the official cooperation of the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association,
an organization of more than 20,000 members of the police department, city of New York.
Everett Sloan and the role of Captain Cannelly, Ken Lynch as Lieutenant King, featured in tonight's cast were Gene Gillespie and Barbara Weeks, Wendell Holmes, Bill Zuckert, Bill Lipton, and Louis Van Roeten,
written and directed by Stanley Nitz, produced for CBS Radio by John Ives. Art Hanna speaking.