Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to the London Circle, the guardian, the most violent,
the lonesomest mile in the world.
Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as detective Danny Clober.
It glitters on Broadway, the glimpse of pavement, the brilliance of steel, the scarlet neon.
It glitters, then shatters against the black of winter's wind.
Then the shrapnel of color screams, whine through the darkness, and you run to it, gather
the fragments close, and be pierced by the splintered edge of beauty.
But they ride the wind.
You look at their hands, but have reached into shadows, and find they hold a sigh, the
stain of a tear.
Broadway observes you, Broadway laughs, and you pretend it never happened.
But then, warmed by the touch of the afternoon sun, Broadway relents, offers you a token of
regret.
The man lying with a knife in his back, in an apartment on West 56, lately furnished
with death.
And another man touching things, listening things, replacing them quietly.
Even when he talks, he is quiet, so that the dead may hear.
A call came while you were out to lunch, Danny, I couldn't find you.
They told me to take it, and...
Who is he, Margaret?
Kenneth Mitchell.
He rented this place about three days ago.
Super told me he was a very quiet man, model tenant, wished he had more like it.
And find anything?
The appointment of a quiet man.
Some books, a few magazines, two suits of clothes, the one he's wearing, another in
the closet, three shirts.
When I came in the radio with playing some classical music, I turned it off.
And nothing else?
Yeah, something else.
Come on, I'll show you.
In the next room, Danny.
This, Danny.
This lady, Miss Ruth Coyle.
Come in.
You were here when Detective Muggerman arrived, Miss Coyle?
Yes, I called the police, I waited.
I didn't want Kenneth to be alone.
Miss Coyle told me she found him like that last night, when she came to visit him.
What time last night, Miss Coyle?
I was to come by for Kenneth at eight, we were going for a walk.
I was late.
How late?
Hmm, this thing is twenty minutes.
I know, because I didn't want to be late.
That's right, Danny.
His watch is stopped at eight twenty, must have shattered when he fell.
You found him like that, the way he is in the front room?
Yes.
I knocked Kenneth at NASA.
Sometimes Kenneth fell asleep, just like that sleep would come over him.
I never woke him.
I'd wait.
Just look at him and wait.
Did you have the key?
No, the door was open, I walked in, I'd done it before.
Didn't call anyone after help?
No.
Why did you wait so long, Miss Coyle?
Miss Coyle, I asked you something.
Why did you wait so long to call us?
Because I loved him.
Because I wanted him to myself for as long as...
Because we never had very much time.
For an instant after that we stared at each other.
A moment such as far away sounds and a sudden recognition.
The girl, her eyes feverish, her cheeks too red, the languid movement of her hands.
The quality of sickness that was forever part of Ruth Coyle.
Then the new sounds, the men from headquarters who were the statisticians of violent death.
I walked into the next room and nodded to them, told Muggerman to get a doctor for Miss Coyle.
Then I left.
Inquire into the manner and cause of dying of a man named Kenneth Mitchell.
Consult this record and that.
Come up with facts.
Kenneth Mitchell lived on West 86th Street.
Kenneth Mitchell had a wife.
Go there.
Just tell me one thing, Mr. Pover.
I want you to tell me the truth.
I don't want you to spare me.
I have to know.
We had a life together, Kenneth and I.
Not much of one.
I made myself suffer with Kenneth.
I thought that way we could be together.
I made myself suffer with Kenneth. I thought that way we could be closer.
Now that he's dead, you got to tell me.
Are they pained?
No, I don't think so.
No pain?
I said they would be. I read about it.
You see, in most cases they say...
I don't understand what you're talking about.
Death of my husband.
That's right. You were stabbed to death.
You said...
I said I was from the police.
You told me Kenneth was dead. I didn't hear what else.
Stabbed to death?
In the apartment on West 56th.
Dead.
Kenneth. No more.
Done.
The end of it finally.
You expected Kenneth to die?
I wanted to be there. I made him a promise that I would be near him.
And the doctor told me he didn't have a chance.
I told Kenneth when the time came I'd be with him.
Your husband was that sick?
Dying.
And the doctor called me and told me he'd left the sanitarium.
What sanitarium?
The sanitarium on the river.
Kenneth used to watch the river.
And I'd go to visit him. We'd sit on the porch.
I knew he used to love watching the river because he'd never talk to me.
Tried saying things.
After a while I just sat there until the nurse came and told me to go.
You said your husband left the sanitarium.
Walked out.
Can you imagine him doing a thing like that to me?
Somebody was sick. He didn't know what he was doing.
He didn't know.
Your husband was murdered.
I should have been there. He cheated me of that.
You know this girl named Ruth, Cori?
No. No, I don't think so. Was she there?
Yes.
Kenneth needed me there.
I would have helped. I told him it was all right.
Not to be frightened.
He cheated me!
I couldn't get through to her anymore.
When I asked where she was at 820 last night she said she didn't know.
She really didn't know.
Walking around the neighborhood she supposed. She always did that at night.
I thanked her, but she didn't hear me.
So I left her to her own particular brand of grief.
More legwork then.
The sanitarium on East River.
Walked softly behind her whose footsteps set up an echo down the long corridor.
Get our shit into a small office and introduce to Dr. Nestor who lights a cigarette from the one he's just finished.
And no cigarette company has asked me which brand I smoke.
You careful with?
Thanks.
All right.
Well, now that we've done the civilized things, what brings the police to see Dr. Nestor?
We found a boy murdered several hours ago. Named as Kenneth Mitchell.
You're talking literally, of course. He was murdered?
That's right. Stabbed.
And you found out Kenneth was a patient here?
And that he walked out of here three days ago.
Who stabbed him, Ruth?
How do you know Ruth?
She was a patient here. Walked out with Kenneth.
What happened? Kenneth was married.
And so was Ruth Corrigan.
They met here at the sanitarium?
They were lucky. They had one thing in common that would never change. They were both dying.
They fell in love.
The fact they were already married is no concern of mine.
They lived all but a small part of their lives on the outside.
Whatever they left there, they left. They made that decision.
As their doctor, I respected it.
I see.
Try to understand it.
Did Ruth kill him?
We don't know. I'm trying to find out who else would have motive.
Have you seen Ruth's husband?
No.
They live on Park Avenue. I'll have the nurse get the address.
I'd seen Mr. Corrigan. He was the part of Ruth's life she left outside.
I'd like to see what happens with it.
Look, you...
Clover. Danny Clover. You guys have names. It's a revelation to me.
It's loud mouths, loud speech that I know about.
I told you I want to talk to Mrs. Corrigan.
You too.
Sure you do.
Come on, I'll take you to Ruth so you can talk to her.
Heck yes. Talk to her.
She's asleep. She's asleep. Want me to wake her for you?
You with the name? I'll do that.
Thanks. You got a big heart. Go back to the other room.
Uh-uh. We stay here.
Because there are things I've got to do for Ruth.
Like this.
Like cooling her brow with a damn cloth.
But easy so she'll think it's a dream. Like this.
I'll come back.
You said you wanted to talk to me too.
I'm a busy man running after money takes all my time.
You better grab me where you can.
A man was murdered last night.
I know. And Ruth thought. She told me all about it.
How she sat up through the night with him. Him dead.
It didn't touch me at all. If I remember right, I laughed.
Uh-huh. I laughed. You can ask Ruth.
You knew Cannes Mitchell? Sure.
But never close enough to touch him with my hands.
He was sick. But you knew him.
Uh-huh. Do something for me.
Ruth's comb on the dresser. Give it to me.
I want to comb her hair.
Here. Thanks.
Like silk. Like pure silk.
You want to tell me about Cannes Mitchell?
Sure.
You see Ruth? You see the way she is?
Mitchell did this to her.
How? She was on her way to getting well because I bought that for her.
Anything she wants, I buy for her.
She was getting well, I tell you, when Miss Mitchell tried to kill her all over again.
The doctor told me there was nothing that could be done for her.
Thanks to Mitchell? Mitchell thought he had something in Ruth.
I don't know what. Maybe a sick man likes to rub a piece of life whenever he can.
Even from Ruth.
That's what made me laugh when she told me he was dead.
Yeah, that's it. Because nothing that belongs to me died.
Mitchell was murdered last night. You'll tell me where you were.
Yeah? Took you a long time, didn't it?
I was with my lawyer. Go ask him. I pay him fat to handle things like this.
What lawyer?
Where? Gordon Horner, 1219 East 60th.
He handles my money. He handles my alibis.
Oh, shut the door soft when you go out, huh?
Yes, what is it?
My name's Danny Clover. I'm from the police.
What about it? The cop in the beat said it's all right if I park my car overnight in front of the house.
I've been doing it for a year.
Cops started talking to each other before you even drove.
What's the matter with you?
Are you through talking?
You must be new.
Is your name Horner?
Sure it is.
Walter Corey told me to look you up.
Mr. Corey did? Why don't you come in?
Yeah.
You told me Mr. Corey said so. Imagine all that talk outside when it's cold.
And there's a fireplace in here.
Imagine.
What is your job with Mr. Corey?
I'm his lawyer.
How long have you been working for him?
Since the minute he made a million dollars.
At 1 21 p.m. at the curb exchange in Wall Street, December 12, 1938.
Sweet futures. I introduced myself and he said you're hired. Does he pay your well?
I can afford my whims. That's more than most men can say.
Would you lie for him?
I have. And will.
Do you benefit from certain murder?
Let me think about that for a moment. There's a dot board. You can throw dots. Let me think.
Would you like that? Or would you just rather stare at that interesting dot?
Get off it, Horner. I asked your question.
Why wouldn't I? If it concerned murder.
All right. Did you see Mr. Corey last night?
I did. He told me to meet him at Grand Central. I did. We had a bird to eat. We spent about an hour together talking business.
What time did you meet him?
Listen to me, Mr. Clover. I don't know what you're trying to get out of me, but I know it was 8 20. There was a clock in the window of a store. I set my watch by it.
8 20. 8 20. I guess that's all.
Well, you don't have to leave. There's a game I make up with a dot board. You can show it.
Huh? Oh, well. It's always solid sense.
The lawyer ushered me to the door, tried to take my hand to shake it. He never made it.
Then the walk in the quiet streets across 60th to Clark. The dark wind sweeping the autumn leaves, gathering them in the gutters of night.
Walk down Clark and past Dorman putting lights on potted trees and consider Maltes an alibi.
Consider why someone needed a dying man dead. His wife, the girl Ruth, her husband were going to buy life back for her.
So it got simple now. The intrusion of the sound of night, metallic creaking of the leaves, the deep cry of steel hurtling under the earth.
Then another sound. Sound the pear through flesh rip, then explode, explode. A woman screams.
Then nothing. Nothing.
Nothing.
You are listening to Broadway is my beat written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover.
The wind comes up from the river and twists the headline around an ankle, lifts it up again, flattens it against the gutter. Look down at it and stare, not at the big one, the smaller one there, almost burned by the cigarette butt.
Man murdered it says. Lean closer. Kenneth Mitchell stabbed to death in an apartment on West 56th Street.
The part of it's almost charred. Officer in charge of case shot down. Then truck, walk on. Tomorrow is another day. You'll spend it at the foot of the rainbow. Sure.
As far as I was concerned, I had to consider the officer in charge of the case. The man who was shot down, me and the two men near me trying to help.
I mean that bottle that's acting. No, no, not that one. The other one, the brown one. Yeah, thank you.
Hold on to the edge of the table. Go ahead. Hold on. Just take it easy. Look, Danny, a bullet grazed your skull. Be thankful that you can still feel pain.
Well, just don't hurt him, doctor. Just hold on, Danny. Okay. Now we'll bandage you up. Hand me the bandage, you know?
Bandage? You hurt much, Danny? A headache. Don't worry about it. Scalp wound isn't very deep.
You know, Danny, this is the self-same thing that made Mike Schreck the miracle detective from Philadelphia baldheaded. Time after time he's got his scalpel.
Please, you know, my headache. I told you that. What happened, Danny? I don't know. Someone shot at me.
A half inch lower and you would agree... Leave him alone, his headache.
Scissors. Scissors. Okay, doctor. Okay. You are a man who has been a half inch from death. In a couple of months when the barber asks you what that scar is, tell him that.
Try to laugh about that. Try to be... I'll get it. Sergeant Pataglia on the phone. Danny Clover. He's in no condition to talk.
Give me the phone, Gino. Phone. Danny Clover speaking.
Think I can help you on the Kenneth Mitchell case. Interested? I'm interested.
I'm Ted Lawson. I have a cabinet shop, corner of 338. I'll be right down.
Hey, William, a minute, mister. You want to give this scab a leg and not his grind. I'll wait.
Look, I brought out the grain. See? Here. And here? Run your hand over it.
Ah, it's beautiful.
Mahogany responds to my touch. It's... I mean... I mean, I like working with wood. Ever since they forced it on me and now you're threatening.
You're Ted Lawson?
Yeah. Look, I wasn't trying to convince you how good I am. There are lots of cabinet makers. We all...
I'm from the police, Ted.
Oh. You got your fair share.
I told you that you had something on Kenneth Mitchell's murder. How do you fit in, Ted?
Ruth Corey's my sister. I think she was until she married the...
Hey, you've been hurt, mister. I got a couch in the back room. It's covered with sawdust, but I could burn...
Dad, have I seen Ruth?
At the sanitarium a couple of times. I bought her fruit, magazines, things like that. It was maybe a year ago.
You haven't seen her since?
No, Corey wouldn't let me. Said I upset her. Left orders, I couldn't see her. That's why I called you, mister.
Why?
You gotta get her away from that man. He'll kill her. She hasn't much time, mister. He'll burn her up so fast.
You've gotta take her away from him. You people can do that.
Oh, Ted.
I got a little house at Sea Gird, a block from the ocean. I live there alone. I can take care of Ruth, make it good for her.
You've got to. You've got to.
You won't do it, huh?
We can't, then.
Oh, forget it. Forget I ever asked you for anything.
The question I've got to ask you, Ted.
Hurry it up, mister. I'm busy.
Where were you at 820 last night?
The time, Ruth, fun. I don't know. I was looking at the dead rollercoasters on Coney, maybe. I watched the surf wash in the dirt on the beach, maybe. I don't know.
You knew Kenneth Mitchell?
No. But I'll tell you something. He kept my sister from getting well. Makes me feel good he's dead. Take it. Do something with it, mister. Like I said, I'm busy.
It hadn't helped. It merely added another suspect. Ted Lawson, brother of Ruth Corey, a man who hated anyone who could hurt his sister. Murder has an affinity for love and hate.
Back at headquarters, I checked reports. Items. Nothing on the whereabouts of Florence Mitchell at 820 last night. And some three other items. Negative. Still in process of being checked.
Then a phone call to the home of Ruth Corey. She wanted to see me. She wanted to talk to me. She wanted to explain things to me. Go there. Meet Miss Fabry, a nurse assigned to Ruth.
Nod when she says it's a good time to talk because Mr. Corey just stepped out. Miss Fabry takes it to her patients. Rearranges the pillow and smiles.
Yeah, nod. Don't be depressed. Get in the fresh.
Thank you.
You look a lot better, Miss Corey.
You don't have to do that, Mr. Clover. I know how I look. If we don't feel like talking, Ruth, we don't have to.
I told Mr. Clover.
I can see you later.
No, please, Dave. Do you think I killed Kenneth?
You could have. There were no prints on the knife blade, but...
I could have wiped them off. I was with him for a long time, I pray with Dave.
We know.
There are questions you want to ask me. I know that. Please, ask me.
I want to tell you this. Kenneth died at 820. The only one who has an alibi for that time is your husband. Your brother...
You talked to my brother?
Yes. He can't tell me where he was when Kenneth died.
Can't? Can't kill Kenneth? Do you think he could?
Everyone can kill.
Yes, I know.
You?
I loved Kenneth. We ran away from the sanitarium to spend what taught me I loved together. We didn't make any dreams or plans. We got to be with each other.
To spend the rest of our lives with a love that couldn't grow old because...
And you didn't kill him, did you?
When I went seeing him lying there, I went for myself. For the first time in my life, I was sorry for myself. Because now I'd be without Kenneth.
Sorry, Mr. R. You didn't answer.
Oh. Killed Kenneth?
Did you?
No. No, I didn't do it for fun. No.
Perhaps we'd better go now, Mr. Clover, shall we?
No. No, please stay here and talk to me.
Let's call you.
Stay and talk to me. Say Kenneth's name.
Kenneth.
She's dozed off.
I'm sorry if I tired her.
Yes. Yes, we get tired so easily, we get worried about it.
It's late, Danny. Why don't you go home? Give in to that head wounder of yours. I won't tell anybody.
You checked on the girl's brother?
Ted? Yeah. He was seen walking the beach at Coney Island. Several people saw him.
You're good, Markhamen. Ted couldn't give me an alibi, but you come up with one for him. From several people. What do you find people like that?
On Coney, you can find anything you look for, Danny.
The philosophy comes with it, huh?
The bullet must have touched your angry nerve, Danny. There's several people or characters who won't give in to winter.
They run hot dog stands, knish stands. They put out eagle eyes for customers. From eight until nine, they threw out bait for Lawson. He looked so hungry. Lawson didn't indulge in one knish, one hot dog.
But he was walking the beach at Coney from eight until maybe nine-thirty. The witnesses will be glad to testify. When he left, they gave up. That's how they remarked their time.
It's still late. You still should go home.
You're through?
Yeah. In a way, I'm sorry I opened my mouth.
Ted Lawson has an alibi. Corey has one. Mitchell's wife, what about her?
I got one for her too, Danny. At eight-twenty, she was buying cigarettes at the candy store.
Yeah, yeah. That leaves Ruth Corey.
You got a mental block, Danny. Give in to it. It was Ruth Corey.
Not that girl. All she ever had was Mitchell. All she... You saw her, Markhamen, you know what...
Sure, I know. I know a lot of things I don't care to know. Want me to go place her under arrest?
Danny, I said, do you want me to...
Danny, I brought you some hot bouillon. I cooked it myself under the bouillon burner in technical. Here, Danny.
Thanks, I thank you.
Ah, ship it slowly, Danny. You shouldn't make a ring in the noggin.
And while you are so sipping, I will go over to the window and give you a play-by-play description of New York at night time.
Yeah.
Ripped in the icy fingers of Jack Frost, New York...
What time is it, Markhamen?
It's eight-twenty, Danny.
What?
It's eight-twenty. Terso. Right there on the clock.
They're crazy. It's later than that.
What clock?
Just go in, hang it over there, across the street.
Over at Jewelry Store.
Oh, what about it?
Jewel has always set their display clocks to eight-twenty. Tell them the rest, Markhamen.
Oh, hello, Mr. Clover. We came back, didn't we?
May I come in?
Please do.
I want to see Mr. Corey.
I see. This way, Mr. Corey is with us.
I want to see him alone.
I don't think so, Mr. Clover.
Wait there. I'll be right on.
In other times, when painters tried to paint a scene of awful desolation, they chose the desert to eat the barren rocks.
From there, we tried to picture a man in his great low-mast.
Mr. Corey.
Shut up, I can't breathe. I want to talk to you.
But for a modern painter, the most death of a scene would be a street in almost any of our great cities on a Sunday afternoon.
All right, Clover, keep your voice down.
Mrs. Clover, she's sleeping. I'll cover her so she'll be warm.
You murdered Kenneth Mitchell, Mr. Corey.
Hand me that brush. The hairbrush. Hand it to me.
Here. Ruth likes me to brush her hair. It's restful.
Sleep, Ruth. Sleep.
That alibi your lawyer gave you. Pretty fortunate, wasn't it?
Ruth.
Mitchell was killed at 820. You met your lawyer some time after that to arrange an alibi because you thought we couldn't set the exact time of Kenneth's death.
Sleep.
We did. His watch broke when he fell.
You're going to get better, Ruth.
When your lawyer met you, saw a jeweler's plaque set at 820. He thought it was the right time. Your alibi was great.
Ruth, we'll do all the places you wanted to go.
Under arrest, Mr. Corey. For murder. For attempting to murder me.
Do the things you wanted to do, Ruth.
I thought I would see that clock in the wind on your Grand Central, but I was only walking.
I'll wait outside for you.
You won't have to go back to that hospital, Ruth. I'll take care of you.
I've been waiting here, Mr. Clover. I thought you'd call me.
When did it happen?
I was with her. She died half hour ago.
The
Broadway's sleeping now. The furious avenues of the night are still.
Only the sleepwalkers are there. Those who lust for dreams are realities that never come true.
The seekers, the sodden, the huggers close of nothing.
It's Broadway. The gaudiest, the most violent.
The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway.
My Beat.
Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Star Teglir.
The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage.
Our featured in tonight's cast were Lou Merrill, Mary Lansing, Lillian Baez, Paul McVeigh, Byron Cain, and Jack Krushen.
Tonight on FPN Presents, you've been listening to some of the best in radio drama.
With Biver McGee and Molly and Broadway's My Beat.
And then Monday evening at the same time, 9.05, when FPN presents Dragnet and Escape.
You