Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the
lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, the thrilling drama of murder and mystery
and the people who walk the great white way, starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover.
In the morning, a kind of silence touches Broadway. The color has been squeezed from it, drained,
spent by the wanton night. The neon is still in a spectacular sleep. The scavengers walk soft,
grubbed furtively in the refuse of the night. And if you listen close, you can hear the wind,
and it's the same wind that purrs through ruins. At headquarters, you welcome Broadway's silence,
but you know it'll splinter in your face, and it does. Its shape is a slip of paper tossed
carelessly on your desk. On it are written the words, homicide, Olympian Hotel, room 312.
Broadway is awake now. It's starting a new day. At the Olympian Hotel, you walk down a corridor
that's been painted in a color that won't offend anybody. Then a door opens to you,
and a voice designed not to frighten you welcomes you into a room, lately furnished with death.
Come in. Come in, please. Your old head porter, as I presume?
And you? Matthew Porter, Yale 47,
head of the crime detection bureau for the management. This is my first murder.
Hmm. Shot. 45, I'd say. Who was he, a guest?
Not likely. Oh, I took the liberty of going through his pockets for identification, of course. I find
he is a Frank Conroy, obviously one of those people from Texas. The high-heeled boots,
that 10-gallon monstrosity over there on the bed. They wear those things. Died with his boots on,
eh? Classic. And this? Courtesy of the management?
The roulette wheel? Of course not. Gambling in the rooms is positively forbidden at the Olympian.
But this is a roulette wheel, I'd swear it, Mr. Porter.
Maybe the Texan brought it with him. You know Texas millionaires. Oil, steers, women, roulette,
the black and the red. You say he wasn't a guest.
Never saw him before. How he got in without my notice, I don't know.
Whose room is this? Oh, uh, Mr. Henry Sherwood,
stocks and bonds. Inoffensive chap. A moment please. Yes? Oh, thank you.
Strange. A telegram. Addressed to an Eddie Donald. Care of this room.
Open it. But, um... Open it. Read it. Aloud.
Uh, dear Eddie, stop. Arrived flight 12 from Cleveland. Stop.
11.15 this morning. Stop. Hope you had good rest. Stop. Ha ha. Stop.
Signed, Henry Sherwood. What time is it now?
10.3. On the nose. That gives me an hour.
You'll be courteous to the public servants when they come for the dead Texan, won't you, Yale?
It took just about that hour to get to LaGuardia. Four-engine plane from Cleveland made a storybook
landing and the people who walked through its door made storybook exits. Pause at the door,
smile, wave and walk down the ramp. The stewardess stood there checking off each performance.
I asked her who was Henry Sherwood and she pointed out a little man with a briefcase
who was just going off the field. Sherwood. Henry Sherwood. Hey.
Sure name Sherwood? Who are you? Police. You Henry Sherwood?
Police? Say, what is this? You're registered at the Olympian Hotel,
room 312? Yes, I am. Who's Eddie Donald? Eddie Donald. What's he got to do with the police?
We're looking for him. What's he got to do with you? Why, why, I lent him my suite while I was in
Cleveland. I called him and told him he could live like a king in my suite for the week I was away.
He acquiesced. All right. Where does Eddie Donald usually live? In a hotel. Ha ha. On West 59th.
Let me think up just where... You do that, Mr. Sherwood, on the way down to headquarters.
It didn't take Mr. Sherwood all the way down to headquarters to think of it. He thought of
Eddie Donald's address just as I was lifting him into the squad car. He wriggled and said I could
let him go now. I said they'd point a finger at me if I did. At headquarters, Mr. Sherwood said he'd
take up police brutality with the stock exchange, the governor, the State Department. When he got
to Drew Pearson, I walked out. Eddie Donald's hotel was run by a sweet and charming lady.
Everybody told her she was that, so she told me. Just call me Mom, Mr. Clover. Everybody calls me
that. It's because I treat my boys like as if they was my own son. Mrs. Tobey, I... What's the
matter? You got monkeys in your ears? I told you to call me Mom. Okay, okay, Mom. Eddie Donald,
is he home? Eddie, now what do you want with this, sweet Eddie? All I want is, is he home? Eddie
brings me candy. On Mother's Day, he brings me flowers. Go on, Mr. Clover, talk to Mom about Eddie.
We want him for murder. Murder? Why, that dirty lowdown no good. The flowers he brought me,
they stunk. The candy he picked up off a subway seat. He's a week behind in his rent and he has
the gall to commit murder. Take it easy, Mom. Where is he? Wherever he is, I hope it's crawling.
The shame he brought to my hotel. He's not here? No. He didn't come home all week. Every night I
waited for him to bring me a buff. He didn't come home to Mom. Mind if I take a look? Look
to the green face. Come on. This is his room. As of now, it's got a sign on it. Room to let half price.
Show that Eddie. This picture. September's the only picture of a month in the altogether I ever
seen. Now comes November. She don't even look cold. It's framed. The calendar part's been cut off to
Eddie. It says forever and ever. No signature. You ever seen the girl before? Only in shop windows and
on counters and magazines all over the country. You like her? The artist. Magna. A magna girl. Mind
if I take the picture with me? You lonely boy. Take it. Mom says you can take it. Thanks, Mom.
Ah! I beg your pardon? Ah! Whose name is Magna around here? But I am. My studio, my artistry,
my cocktail party for my one-man show. But I am. A joke. A joke? No. I was just asking.
Are you taking the tour? Come. I will show you Magna. Here. On this pedestal is the trunk of a
small tree on which Magna first carved me. Ah, I think you misspelled the word there. Ah, you saw it.
You saw it. Have Magna extracted the essence of the word and set it down for the world to
applaud. Oh, you, you primitive. You saw it. Oh, just stop jumping up and down, Mr. Magna. I want to ask
you a couple of questions. You don't understand my art? I understand your calendars. You are not a
primitive after all. Take a look at this one. I brought it along. Magna does not autograph
reproduction. Who is this girl? Who modeled for this painting? As it is printed on top.
November modeled for it. Yeah, but what's her name? November. I forgot to tell you I'm from the
police, Mr. Magna. November pushed for the painting. A touch of gold, a sniff of sorrow,
dead dying days. All embodied in a woman I found one... You're a cop? I found November one day at a
model agency. Who is she? Nelson. Liz Nelson. A pedestrian name for November, yes? No? Where do I
find her? Liz Nelson, her address? Her address. I will write it down for you. Don't extract the
essence for me, Mr. Magna. Just the number and the street. What else?
Go away if you're the fuller brush man. Go away if you want me to sign a petition. Go away whatever's
eating you. Go away. I'm from the police, Ms. Nelson. Oh yeah, now I can tell. You tell by the way you put your foot in the door.
Police or a mature college boy working his way through a mature college. Let's go inside, Ms. Nelson.
All right, let's go inside. The bed, it looks like that because I live in it. But I'm not working
that ass every minute. That way I stay be-bushed. The police want me to pose to improve their public
relations. That's why you're here. Eddie Donald. You know him, Ms. Nelson? Uh-huh. And maybe you can
tell me where he is. Ha-ah. But you can't tell about him. Uh-huh. Tell me. You first, you tell me what.
Uh-huh. Well, let's see now. I know Eddie for, oh let's see, for four years now. Two years of that he was in
Dannemora prison. Why? I never followed his career so I don't know why. After that? He called me
lots of times. Left a number where I could reach him. Sometimes I call back. Depended on my schedule
and my mood. When was the last time the schedule permitted? About three months ago. I got it
penciled in in my little black book. Frank Conroy, a man from Texas. He in the book? He's dead, isn't he?
I read about it. Is he in the book? Ha-ah. First I heard of him, he was dead. And Eddie Donald, when was the
last time you saw him? I told you, three months ago. You inscribed a picture to him. Forever and ever,
it said. A calendar picture. The cost of my beauty. Men look at my picture and they want me to belong
to them forever and ever. Sometimes it's for always. I put down what they tell me. Oh. Let's not answer it, huh?
Uh-uh. Oh. Eddie? Eddie? I figured you'd be there. This is Jack Perry. I'll make it easy for you.
Try room B, 1829, West 47. Who was it? Uh-uh. Miss Nelson.
Hey, you came, Realer. Who are you? Police. Danny Clover. I did what? Can I come in? No. Your name, Jack Perry?
State your business right from there. All right, so your muscle got you in. Now, real important thing?
Look, Perry, I'm trying to find out who killed the man from Texas. What voice whispered my name is Perry?
You did. What else did I do? Over the phone when you called Liz. Spare me the method, police. I
got it figured already. Your muscle lifted the phone, said it was Eddie Donald. You're real anxious to
talk to Eddie, aren't you? Real. Real. Why? In that way. Mind if I sit down? Let's go, Perry. I got a
squad car outside. Oil for me? The police are looking for Eddie. Maybe you'll help. Let's go. Yeah,
sure, I'll help. I'll help you from here. All right. Eddie's got a lot of money that's mine. It's a
reason for a man wanting to see a man. How much money? What's the difference? A lot. You know what,
police, someone's in back. Yeah, I know. Let's go. Someone is. Let's go. His laughter mixed well with
pain. Came in tides and swelled and rolled over me. The thing that pounded at my brain was the thing
that exploded and showered down like a million nickels. Bright, colored red and green and black.
Then everything stopped. It came back again later. And I opened my eyes. The color, the
paint in the room was the same. The pattern of frayed furniture and dust. And Jack Perry was still
there. Only he was different. Wasn't laughing anymore. Couldn't. He'd been shot to death.
Though the hour months fade and the oysters forsake Broadway, life still goes on. They're
the box scores to consider. The hot dogs with everything. And for exercise, you can now dial
Nassau County. As if this weren't enough, Broadway offers another diversion. Double killing. This
time backdrop to the roulette wheel and a police officer who got slugged at the scene of the crime.
Broadway tucks the protesting wiener back into the role, takes another bite and chews appreciatively.
Later at police headquarters, Sergeant Tataglia summed it all up. This is something you can stick
your teeth into Danny. What is? It's a sticky apple, Mrs. Tataglia packed with my lunch.
Hmm. It's tasty and good. I'm sure it is Gino, but I got a headache. I've just come from the
infirmary and Dr. Sinski said I'd feel a lot better if I didn't have any emotional disturbances
for a while. So let's all pitch in and help Dr. Sinski. Roger. We'll go. Thank you. Well,
to work we go. To wit, in the matter of Frank Conroy from Texas, he is indeed from Texas.
Police authorities in Texas sent a 500 word telegram to us to that effect. 500 words? Indeed. It
states that Frank Conroy is an esteemed owner of oil wells and well known in Galveston. The rest
of the telegram is about Texas. Go on. In the matter of Jack Perry, the man who was killed under
your very nose was a man known to all and sundry as a man who delighted in floating games of chance.
That's what on him. All right. Tell me about the man we're looking for, Eddie Donald. And all points
bulletin is out on him at this very moment. What else? Eddie Donald was released in Danmore and
Nianta six months ago after serving a two year stretch for assault and battery. Before he went
to jail, Tataglia. Here say has it that this same Eddie Donald was a steerer for the gambling
industry. Precisely speaking for Mark Oslo. Yeah. And here say has it that Mark Oslo isn't
operating anymore. You believe that Danny? No. We've never been able to get anything on him.
Tataglia. Yeah? Does Oslo still live at the same address? I checked that already Danny and yeah,
he does. In that tumble down shack on Park Avenue. Hey Danny, I brought you one too. I was hiding a
sticky apple behind my back. The shack of Mark Oslo occupied five floors of a gilt edge apartment
house where dogs were walked by student psychiatrists. On the first floor of his
hovel something in silk, knee britches and epaulets held a candelabra to your badge,
side profoundly adjusted its wig and ushered you into a private elevator. On the second floor,
you caught a glimpse of a library with real books, thousands of them. On the third floor,
a girl with ashen hair and leg slits in her Mandarin robe waved joy to you as you floated
up. On the fourth floor, a chef sniffing a chafing dish took time to consider you as a
potential sauce, rejected you. Then you were on the fifth floor. The mate of the thing in silk,
knee britches led you through a luster of elegant men and women in silent prayer at a roulette table.
Then Mark Oslo extended a glittering hand to you. You didn't take it. No Danny,
you don't shake my hand and it sets up a melody of sorrow in my heart. Cry a tear Mark,
I'd like to see it. You'd be the first. You want a tear Danny, I could arrange it. You could.
Having a party, Mark? You mean my friends at the table? They're playing for matchsticks Danny,
literally matchsticks. Come along Danny, I'll show you. Don't bother. No? Your pleasure Danny. I
should get back to my guests, state your pleasure. Eddie Donald. Eddie Donald. Mark Oslo knows such
a man? Yeah, Mark Oslo does. Shall I freshen it up for you Mark? No need Danny, thank you. It'll
come back. Eddie Donald. Oh yes, you want him for murder and you come to me for help. For Eddie
Donald, not for what you said Mark. He was a good boy. Came to work on time, conscientious. Stuffed
the suggestion box with suggestions. I read a few, not bad. I sent word down for him to keep trying.
Where is he Mark? My chef baked some delicacies for him. I had them sent to Eddie Danimara. After
that we lost touch. Not even a thank you note from Eddie. It calls, it calls. A man named Frank
Conroy, what does that do to you Mark? The dead Texan, nothing at all. Someone pointed it out to
me while I was having a rub and it didn't do anything at all. Jack Perry, try him. Some of my
friends sent a wreath. I paid for it. Should I have done more? Oh of course, you were hurting that one
weren't you Danny? Name your favorite charity. Eddie Donald, Mark, that's all I want. Send the word
around, get them to me. You're ordering me Danny? Yeah. Surprise you? No I find it rather delightful.
I'll tell you what Danny, Mark Oslo will see what he can do and the footman will show you out. Goodbye
Danny. On the way back down on the elevator I caught a glimpse of the girl in the mandarin
robe again. This time she was eating a hamburger. I was disenchanted about the whole thing. I called
headquarters, nothing on Eddie Donald. Phone cab garages, nothing. Spent a few more hours dropping
in on back rooms and dropping the name of Eddie Donald. Blank stairs. Then I went home and slept
on it. The way it happened was simple. The next morning I walked out of the door, there was a
hand on my sleeve by the time I stepped onto the pavement. Hi Danny. Benny Fane, you're looking
good Benny. Yeah yeah yeah I am. I'm on my way to work. How do you like that? I like it. What happened?
I kicked it Danny off the stub. Got a job. Look at me. $50 suit, suede, shoes. Watched by Lon Gene.
Beautiful huh? I'm credit Danny but I'm gonna pay for it. Legitimate job. Publishing. Publishing
what? Well anyhow Danny the reason I've been waiting for you on my way to work is because I
never let my old friends down. You never let them down. Still working for you. Now don't call it
stooling Danny. I can't stand that word. Nobody called it anything Benny. Okay okay now look try
the Bronx Danny if you want to find Eddie Donovan. You know where those guys building shacks by the
river, those guys those guys out of work. Or try the one with the bull darm sign for a front door.
Come on in pal. Oh it's not a pal. No Eddie. I'd appreciate it if you tell me your name. It slips
the memory. Danny Clover police. That's right Danny Clover. You are the slug who wants me for the
murder of let me think now. Frank Conroy from Texas and Jack Perry from Stinkville right? Uh-huh.
Let's go Eddie. Gladly. Huh? I said I will go with you gladly. However if you should care to listen
to my side for a minute I think this courtesy will not go unrewarded. You haven't got much time Eddie.
Not even enough to give you the for real murder of those two? The real murderer Eddie? For real.
Interested? Maybe. The story goes with it Mr. Clover. That Texan. He shouldn't have died. It
wasn't planned that way. No? No Mr. mind if I call you Danny? Go ahead. It was like this Danny. I
took a rap in Dannemora. I know. Yeah. Then Perry put salt in the wound. While I am in the crib he
purloins my girl. Go on. Well look at me Danny how little I am. Can't knock over a mosquito.
But one night in a bar I meet a Texan. He wants to fight. I figure who better he should beat up
than Jack Perry from Stinkville. This can be so easy arranged. By that roulette game in the
Olympian. Exactly. Exactly. This is a game rigged by Perry. The same night he tells me go get a
sucker for old time's sake. No hard feelings. I get a hotel room courtesy of a friend so get a
sucker. The sucker I bring him is the Texan. And? And I play Perry for the sucker. While the Texan
loses I bet against him and keep winning. Then when I got it all I tell the Texan he's been taken
by a rigged wheel. I figure this will make him mad at Perry. It didn't? No the Texan turns yellow
just because Perry pulls a gun on him. I quick turn out the lights there's a shot and I flee with
the dough. 50 grand. So for the murder of the Texan you should have talked to Perry. I was talking
to Perry and somebody killed him. You. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Not me. Look all you
got to do is let me go for a little bit and I'll lead you to the for real murderer. Sorry let's go.
You got it Danny. You got it. I'll get the murderer for you. Let me go. I'll make ya let me go.
The little man took a swing at me. Flicked my chin and I pretended he'd knocked me cold. How I
kept from laughing out loud at his surprised bewildered then proud face I'll never know.
But I did. I let Eddie go because I believed him. To follow him to get a for real murderer or maybe
to make an idiot out of Danny Clover. It was the chance I took. I watched him while he made a phone
call. I watched him while he had some coffee. Then I watched him while he hailed a cab and I hailed
one too. He stopped at an address I'd been to once before. I let him go in and I waited five
minutes. Then I went to the apartment where I knew he'd be. I figured it different ways. How do you
figure it Eddie? The policeman. Look Eddie they caught up with you. Oh Danny you recovered. There's
your murderer Danny. I told you give me a chance. Miss Nelson here murdered Perry's. That how you
figured? Take him out of here. I'm repeating myself Eddie. Let's go. No no listen to me. You've got to
listen. She wants me to get electrocuted. That's why she did the whole thing. And you know something
I love her. My kicks for just now. Take him away. Don't laugh at me Liz. You could have had the money
don't you understand? You could have had it. Now. You two play patty cake down on the pavement. I'm
busy. What about now Eddie? Don't you see Danny? Don't you see what she's done? She kills Perry so
I can sit in the electric chair for it. Why would she want to do a thing like that? Because she's
greedy. She wanted all the dough for herself. Shut up Eddie. Make him shut up. I gave her the money I
won and she said she loved me all over again and I believed her. But when she heard the cops were
looking for me for that rhubarb in the Olympian Hotel she got cagey as all get out. Kills Perry
and bucks me solid with the executioner. You're an accomplished girl Miss Nelson. You model,
you pistol whip me in Perry's room, you kill Perry. Accomplished. Try again. Don't be like that Liz.
Show him the money. All that money. Give it to him. Eddie you fool. Go ahead Liz. The man's waiting.
Give it to him. Shut up. Shut up. Now Liz. I told you to shut up. I told you. Watch it. Drop that gun. Drop it. It's a lot better. All that money. That money. He ruined it. Eddie. Bad Eddie? I got a bad shoulder now Danny. You're a fool Eddie. She could have killed you. Yeah I know. I didn't know whether she did it or not what I said. But I
had to find out. I loved her. I really did.
Broadway. It's an eight beat revival meeting and the lost souls wail to a hot trumpet and sax.
It's a hunger complete with syncopation and spinning neon. Grab your dream and dance a while. Then try to look it in the face. You can't. It's a mask of terror. It's Broadway. The gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway.
My Beat.
We invite you to join us next week at the same time when detective Danny Clover returns again with Broadway's My Beat.
Broadway's My Beat is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. The program is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and stars Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia.
Included in tonight's cast were Peggy Webber, Francis Robinson, Eddie Quillen, Herb Butterfield, Jane Avello and Anthony Barrett.
Bob Stevenson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.