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 with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover.
In autumn sunlight, the September day trots out its promises for Broadway's considering,
displays them in doorways, in push carts, in gutters, decorates them with price tags,
invites you to browse, don't touch, buy, don't squeeze.
And at cut rates of the second-hand delights, the tears slash down to any man's purse,
the bold ends of dreams.
The vendors simper, the hawkers wink, buy kid.
That's a winter sun on your shoulder and the day is short, so buy.
And that's what you do kid, because on Broadway there's no other choice.
And at police headquarters, the September's Day has arranged its wares of violence on
your desk, stacked as two category, degree, grade.
Because the day is still fresh, you put off the reaching for them, the touching of them,
but it screams close to your ear.
In the morgue Danny, come down, I got something of interest to you.
And walk the corridor to the room of the dead, through the swinging doors into a place without
season where all nights, all days are of equal length, where temperature is constant, where
the wind is conditioned before it's let flow over death.
Walk up to the man who waits for you.
A nervous twitch Danny, to juggle things in my right hand.
Maybe I'll be remembered for it.
What have you got Dr. Sinski?
The man lying there.
They found him in his bed last night murdered.
These that murdered him, two bullets.
Look.
Yeah, a 22 and a 32, wouldn't you say so doctor?
That I wouldn't know.
What I know is only one of these was needed to kill him.
Either one.
The man was wanted dead twice Danny.
He was killed twice.
Two bullets, different size, twice dead.
You know who he was?
When they brought him to me last night, there was a tag on him.
A name Tom Keeler, an address, the Nixon Hotel.
Nothing else.
No other word to the living about why such things must happen.
You're sure doctor?
You're sure that the...
Each wound was a mortal wound Danny.
Each wound could...
Yeah, yeah I'm sure.
You want these huh?
Yeah.
Take them.
And that's the way my day began and the ingredients of it were a medical examiner, a murdered
man and two bullets.
In a room of no value except to the dead, except to those whose business is with death.
Hear that briefly then push it away.
Leave, go, get out and hurry.
And in the corridor find what you're looking for.
The breath of air not controlled by a thermostat.
Then the walk down the hall, turn over the two bullets to technical.
Then outside in the squad car, the ride to West 25th Street into the Nixon Hotel.
With a five story brownstone that seemed to list from pressure of the insurance housing
project next door to it.
Go in, ring a bell, wait.
Be greeted by the man in gray suspenders and no shirt.
Morning.
Good morning, I'm Danny Clover, police.
Randy Quantrill, hi.
You had a little trouble here last night didn't you?
Oh just a mess of it.
Did you know the man who was killed?
You mean Tom huh?
That's right, Tom Keeler.
What do you mean know him?
Talk to him, have a beer with him.
Said hi to him, that's about the extent of my to do with him.
How about visitors, did he have any?
Look at the sign over my shoulder Mr. Clover.
Mr. Clover, you know some Clovers down in Selma Alabama.
You any kin any Clovers?
No, no, no.
No.
Look at the sign over my shoulder, no visitors, no visitors.
And you think just because the sign is there Tom Keeler didn't have any visitors?
No, no I don't mister.
We got a sign in each and every room says no smoking in bed.
In the last year we had three mattress fires.
So what I'm saying is I never saw anybody sneak past this desk that I said to myself
there's a Tom Keeler visitor.
What else about Keeler?
Oh he got mail this morning, maybe I ought to tell you that.
Yeah maybe you should.
I'm going to.
Fresh mail that come this morning.
Here, a letter.
Oh thanks.
From the Great Northern National Bank.
So I see.
Please come in and talk to us with regards to your commercial account at your earliest
convenience.
You read upside down Mr. Quantrill?
I've lived in Baltimore.
Oh thank you Mr. Quantrill, thanks a lot.
And for that Randy Quantrill winked at me, laughed noiselessly at me.
Leaned against the mail rack, scratched his back with it.
It wasn't the moment to intrude any longer on such private pleasures.
So I left him.
At the Great Northern National Bank a guard uniformed in tattletale gray took my name,
my business, walked down a marble aisle with them.
An aisle lined with identical desks, identical faces behind them.
Unerringly the guard chose one, the right one.
This was a shrewd guard.
He muted his voice to the extracurricular business I had brought to the Great Northern, offered
it to the man.
The man considered it, digested it and when he had it all in order motioned me to the
chair the guard had placed discreetly close to him.
I'm told we can help you Mr. Clover.
Man named Tom Keeler had a checking account here.
They're aware of it.
Then you know that he was murdered last night in a cheap hotel.
They're aware of many things Mr. Clover.
I'm sorry I can't hear you.
What did you say?
They say that our research department makes a point of informing each of us here on many
diverse matters.
Matters that could even most remotely concern.
Thank you.
Beg pardon?
I said thank you because you let me hear what you had to say.
I was appointed Mr. Clover.
Should any questions arise about the late Thomas Keeler.
Should any questions arise I will so answer the question.
Your interrogation is what Mr. Clover?
We down at headquarters think it's strange Tom Keeler slept in a flop house when he had
a checking account with us.
A checking account with us?
Uh huh.
Philosophical question Mr. Clover.
I'm somewhat out of my problem.
Pardon me what?
I say that all we know of Thomas Keeler is that we were asked to transfer fifty dollars
weekly to his account which we have done religiously until...
Who asked you to do that?
Counselor-in-law, a gentleman, George Webber.
If you want his address we should give it to you.
Thanks.
You were saying you did this until... until what?
Until two weeks ago.
Possibly two weeks in the fraction of a day.
Mr. Webber asked us to discontinue with generosity.
Why?
I suggest it is a personal matter concerning Mr. Webber.
I don't mind troubling you with it.
What?
I'm sorry.
I said that I would...
Never mind.
Probably wasn't important.
Go to the Park Avenue Apartments of George Webber.
Be told by the person at the desk that Mr. Webber is not at home.
Perhaps at his office, the person suggested.
And be handed a slip of paper with the office address in a handwriting with the eyes dotted
with small circles.
Webber and Marley, slip said.
Attorneys, finance building, suite twelve.
Go there.
Go through a door and pass the beam of an electric eye.
Wade through a carpet to a desk and an olive skinned girl with tight black hair.
Look for your name, show your credentials and be told Mr. Webber is out.
Would you see his partner, Mr. Paul Marley?
You would.
You're nodded past another door and another beam.
And to a slender young man who is waiting for you in front of a wall lined with every
law book ever written, be chaperoned by him through yet another door.
And there he was, Paul Marley.
Partner to George Webber, impeccable in morning coat, striped pants and an army discharge
button in his lapel.
That'll be all, Robertson.
Now, sit down please, Mr. Clover.
Clover, please sit down.
Thank you.
The information you gave out there says you're a policeman.
That's right.
And this is about what, sir?
What can I do for you?
It's about a man named Tom Keeler.
Keeler?
A man found murdered last night.
Yeah.
Shot twice with different caliber bullets, either one fatal.
Yeah.
Is all this a matter of legal advice for the police department?
You want to know if a man was killed by a gunshot wound?
Yes.
And if he was killed by a gunshot wound?
Yes.
And if he was killed by a gunshot wound?
Yes.
And if he was killed by a gunshot wound?
Yes.
And if he was killed by a gunshot wound?
Yes.
That's not it at all.
Tom Keeler, it seems, was supported by your partner.
By Mr. Webber.
That's right.
Each week, $50 was drawn on Mr. Webber's account and deposited in favor of Tom Keeler.
Surely there's some...
There's no mistake.
That's the way it was.
But I know Mr. Webber so well.
His affairs, everything.
Where is he?
On Fire Island.
Since the day before yesterday.
He has a place there.
I'm pretty sure he went there.
A lot of season for Fire Island, isn't it?
Oh, I don't think so.
The end of September?
Mr. Webber goes there all year round.
Whenever.
Whenever what?
Whenever he's disturbed.
He has the idea of the sea, the strand, the loneliness of it.
Personally, I don't...
What was Mr. Webber disturbed about?
But he has a sister, Peggy.
She's just 20, so you can imagine.
No, I can't.
Beautiful girl of 20, rich, and you can't imagine.
Look, Mr. Marley, you know,
My partner was constantly arguing with her.
We're a conservative firm, Mr. Clover.
Individually, both Mr. Webber and myself feel...
What's that got to do with Peggy?
Peggy Webber is headstrong.
How?
I take my partner's word for it that she's headstrong.
Therefore...
And they argued, Peggy and her brother.
What about?
I have no idea.
And he went to Fire Island to recuperate.
One way of saying it.
Anything else, Mr. Clover?
No?
Then please, leave these documents here if you don't mind.
And get in touch with the authorities at Fire Island.
Check on the whereabouts of Mr. George Webber and wait.
An hour later, a phone call.
Mr. Webber is not on Fire Island.
Mr. Webber's place there is deserted.
From the looks of it,
it hasn't been inhabited for over a month.
So come up with a conclusion.
Mr. George Webber was missing.
Put out an old points bulletin on him
and go back to his Park Avenue apartment.
Make a request of the management.
We're always glad to accommodate the police.
Then let's go, show me.
Of course.
Mr. Webber's apartment right this way, down the hall.
Yes, sir.
Although, I'd like to know why we should intrude.
Don't worry about it.
Here, sir.
Open the door.
Of course.
And here we are.
Yeah.
We are, aren't we?
What?
What did you say?
What did you say, Mr. Clover?
I didn't...
Oh.
It stopped both of us.
The management and myself.
It was a sight that needed only one glance
and the details were there forever.
The free-shaped coffee table
and the grotesquery of the man spread beside it.
The tracery of blood that stopped abruptly.
Mr. Webber, that's Mr. Webber.
The penknife, bone-handled and cheap in his heart
to be remembered.
Details in the death of George Webber.
You are listening to Broadway's My Beat
written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin
and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover.
There will be a slight pause while we think of an adjective
to describe Mario Lanza.
Sorry, I guess there just isn't one adjective
to describe a guy who sings just as well
in the popular range as in the classics.
But here's a suggestion.
On CBS Radio tomorrow night
over most of these same stations,
don't miss Mario Lanza's All Requests show
and more of the same by lovely Gisele McKenzie
and Ray Sinatra's music.
When the night slips out of Broadway's fingers
and the false dawn blurs the shadows,
Broadway stands bewildered.
The carnival is rundown.
Only the stragglers walk it
with their step without pattern like their dreams.
And the color of their loneliness is the darkened neon,
the last sparks of a cigarette butt and pavement gray.
And they walk it.
They never know Broadway's closed for the night.
And somehow or another, whether it deserves it or not,
the world gets to be 9 o'clock in the morning.
Then there's a place for everybody.
It's daytime, breakfast time, work time, make-a-dollar time.
Or as Sergeant Gino Tertaglia said it...
Lend me a dollar, Danny.
Here, Gino. Here.
Thank you.
The reason for this transaction, Danny...
You don't have to explain it.
I want to. I want to.
Go right ahead.
Thank you.
Mrs. Tertaglia forgot to tuck my dollar into my lunch box today,
as is her want, for the little things a man needs during the day.
She just phoned me and confessed her deletion of duty in this matter.
Gino...
She said, ask Danny for it.
And tomorrow she will tuck in two dollars
so that you will not go hungry.
Tell Mrs. T not to worry.
I will.
And now, Danny, to the chores of the day.
Knife, which did George Webber in, was of the variety
which can be purchased at our leading hardware stores
for the nominal sum of 198.
Practically untraceable.
Prints?
White clean.
Go on.
Well, that's about the sum and substance of the intelligence
which has been shunted from the downstairs to the here, Danny.
As of now.
However...
Yeah?
A young lady is in the ante room and wants to see you.
Who is she?
The Miss Peggy Webber, sister of the most laterally deceased.
Get her.
This way to see Danny Clover.
Sit down, Miss Webber.
That will be all, Gino.
I'm glad you came, Miss Webber.
Your name is right here on my calendar to see today.
I knew you'd want to question me about George.
How did you hear about his death?
I was home, the late news on the radio.
You see, I didn't live with my brother.
We didn't get along.
Oh?
It's going to be a lot simpler now with him gone.
I'll wear a black dress like this one for a month
and call it a decent interval of mourning.
It's not any concern of mine, Miss Webber, but...
Oh, it's entirely your concern, Mr. Clover.
Your position demands that you locate people
who would have motives for murdering my brother.
I would.
Did you kill him?
A few of my friends and I got together some time ago.
For kicks.
We were going to try things together, you know,
just for kicks.
Black magic.
Well, I spent the first ten days of my membership
sticking pins into my brother's picture.
And all that happened is that he got a stye on his eye.
Outside of that, I never harmed a hair on his head.
Why all this hate, Miss Webber?
Simply this.
I love a boy.
I told George about him.
George got red, then blue, red again,
and then a lovely color I never saw before.
He found out who the boy was.
Ruined him.
Who is the boy?
Ralph Clay.
Now runs a bowling alley on Third.
One more thing.
Do you know a man named Tom Keeler?
Not offhand. Why?
Oh, never mind.
Leave your address to Sergeant Otaglia, Miss Webber.
Thank you very much.
Yeah, yeah.
You Ralph Clay?
Oh, hello.
Yes, me. It's my dying day.
You walked into an empty hall, Mr.
I feel real sorry about it.
Don't be. This way we can have a long talk.
Shall we?
Don't let it get away, Miss Miss Tie.
I want to take care of this thing coming up.
King pin, seven pin.
Challenge.
What do you think?
Go ahead.
Yeah, yeah.
Never say go ahead to me in that tone, Miss.
They're not on that shot.
My quirk, each day I live for it.
I'll remember, Mr. Clay.
Look, police.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Stick your thumb in the ball, Mr. Police.
Have fun.
I'll write it off under entertainment.
Joint's bad, no one will know.
Something Peggy Webber said.
He sent me to you.
Peggy?
She's a class.
She tell you I killed her brother?
I got the impression she was in love with you.
Pity the girl. She lives in ancient history.
In a time where she loved and I loved back.
But ancient history.
Under the bridge.
Peggy did something to you?
She had a brother.
Now dead, I read.
It stopped me for a breath on the way to the sports page.
George Webber did something to you?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
And I'm a man who likes to talk about it.
Huh.
Georgie Porgi Webber didn't like
how his sister used to put her hand in mine.
So he marked me lousy.
How?
Standing before you, Mr. Police,
is a boy who once thought he was a lawyer.
Cap in hand, he went to Georgie,
a soon-to-be brother-in-law,
asked for a job, keeping it in the family.
Georgie smiled, shook his head no.
And with words and music,
he told me it spoiled from me
any job I took from anyone he knew.
Because you loved his sister?
I was second in my class in law school.
You want to invent other reasons?
Why hate Peggy for it?
Things like that, running a blood.
I don't stick around till it comes out in Peggy
and slaps me in the head.
Then that gives you a motive for having killed Webber.
Yeah, I ain't had a luck here.
And Tom Keeler, what did you have for him?
Keeler?
A man who got killed in a flea bag,
a man Webber supported until...
Typical, typical.
Good old Uncle Tom was an old friend
of Georgie's and Peggy's father.
After the father died, Uncle Tom still hung around.
Why is he called Uncle?
Peggy called him Uncle because he was her confessor, her hero.
Everything that ached Peggy,
she brought to good old Uncle Tom.
Not to her brother?
Who goes to a man like that except to kill him?
I'll give you something to ponder, Mr. Police.
Yeah, you did.
I'm glad.
Makes me want to live through another day.
Watch the bitter boy make his strike.
Yeah, yeah.
And consider the lie he'd flipped to you,
the girl's lie that she didn't know Tom Keeler,
and wonder over it.
Jotted down in memory as a future conversation piece
with Peggy Webber.
And then, remember a man who said
he knew all about George Webber, everything.
Everything but the mention of Keeler's share
in his partner's life.
Go to him, wait for him to finish his preening.
To taste to the full the decorations bestowed upon men of know-how.
Got this little time machine for being on my toes, Mr. Clover.
Handsome tidbit, isn't it?
Yeah, yeah, it is.
Seventeen jewels, Hamilton.
All because I proved in court
that Chaps wife had been unfriendly to said chap.
Look what the grateful devil had engraved in the gold.
To chum Paul Marley
for setting me free.
To chum...
What was there about Tom Keeler that shut your mouth about him?
My...
My compliments, Mr. Clover.
Brilliant strategy.
Attack while the enemy celebrates
minor victories.
In tactics class at Fort Meade we used to...
You told me about Webber, personal things about him.
His sister. Why not about Tom Keeler?
It pained me.
For George's sake, my deceased
partner's sake, it pained me.
You'll show me where it hurts.
You think you'll be able to understand?
Don't answer, it doesn't matter.
Keeler was a derelict, a bum,
a hungry shadow in George's closet.
That's why George opened that account for him.
To keep him from coming here
to beg. George and I had a large
investment here. The presence of Keeler
was hard... Webber cut off the account.
At my insistence, my counsel.
It made quite a row
the other day. Between Tom and
George, I had to shoo people
back to their desks. You killed George Webber?
Attack, attack.
I admire your method, Mr. Clover.
Well the investment, the plush carpets,
the perfumed secretaries, the junior partners,
all yours now. You kill
Webber for that? The death of my partner
was a great loss to me, Mr. Clover.
A personal loss.
Were it in my humble power
to hunt out his assassins,
I would dedicate my knowledge,
my life, my...
Yes? Danny.
Something I can do for you?
Dr. Sinskey, I have an idea
about something. I want you to check it for me.
Gladly. Get out the medical examiner's
report on Tom Keeler.
Wait a second.
Here.
What do you want it for?
I want to put it side by side with this one
I've got on George Webber.
So? Here, look.
It says Webber
died the day before yesterday
at approximately 6 p.m.
Uh-huh. And it says in this report
that Keeler died about midnight
on the same day. You know what that
means, Doctor?
No, what? There's a pencil on your desk.
Figure it out.
Well, Mr. Clover,
you used my address after all.
Mind if I come in, Miss Webber? This evening you can go
as far as calling me Peggy.
But you can't come in. I'm afraid I'll have to...
You'll have to force your way in?
Well, I could relish that. Peggy...
But a friend's visiting with me.
Ralph Clay.
You said the password. If you know that
you might as well come in.
Ralph!
Come out, come out
wherever you are!
Say hello to Mr. Clover, Ralph.
I told you, Peggy Fudd didn't have Mr. Clover.
Well, now you know.
I didn't know whether you'd broken off with Peggy or not.
It doesn't matter anymore.
You want to ask Peggy questions, huh?
You too. Goodie, goodie.
You lied to me too, Peggy.
Because I'm a liar. I give Ralph a lot of trouble that way, don't I, Ralph?
Let's just listen to what the man has to say.
You're lying about Keeler, Peggy. You said you didn't know who he was.
I explained it to you. I'm a liar.
I found out who killed your brother, Peggy.
I said I...
We heard you.
There were a lot of motives floating around, Peggy. Yours...
Leave her alone. She didn't kill her brother.
I did. Oh, cut it out, Ralph.
Peggy. Ralph had nothing to do with it.
I did it. What's the matter with you, Peggy?
You're crazy. You're a liar. You lie. That's why you're saying you killed your brother.
Ralph, Ralph... Neither one of you killed him.
You thought Ralph did, Peggy, and Ralph...
What are you trying to do to us, Clover? What are you doing?
Police methods? Trying to get us to play against each other?
Take it easy, Ralph. Go on, take it easy, Ralph.
What are you trying to say? Talk, talk! Tom Keeler
killed Peggy's brother.
Clover, so help me out. Listen to me, both of you...
Clover! Let him talk, Ralph.
Keeler killed him because his source of income was cut off.
A man like Keeler could kill him.
Desperate man. A man without livelihood.
A tramp who made a habit of living off
someone else's generosity.
Ralph...
Ralph, it was all my fault.
You found your brother dead, didn't you, Peggy?
Yes, and I...
You thought Ralph did it?
Yes, I thought...
Oh, Ralph...
It's gonna be all right, baby.
Peggy went to her Uncle Tom like she always did when she was in trouble.
Told him Ralph had killed her brother.
What did Tom Keeler say to you, Peggy?
He said...
He said not to worry.
Just not to worry.
Then he got in touch with you, huh, Ralph?
Yeah. Yeah, he did.
You know what he told me?
I think so. He told me Peggy killed her brother.
And he was the killer all the time.
And I'm supposed to be a bright boy.
So he had each of you believing the other had killed George Weber.
How much money did he want from each of you to protect the other?
Oh, what difference does it make?
It doesn't matter anymore.
Blackmail.
That's why Tom Keeler's dead too.
Murdered.
Yeah.
You slapped the cuffs on me for that one, Clover.
No, Ralph.
No more.
You don't have to anymore.
Mr. Clover, my uncle said he wanted everything I had to keep quiet about Ralph.
So I went up to his hotel room while he was sleeping.
And I shot him.
No. No, Peggy, that's what I...
That's what you both did.
To protect the other.
You both shot Tom Keeler.
Peggy.
Peg.
Peg, Peggy.
Peg.
Stop her! Stop her!
Peg.
There's a time on Broadway when the crowd gives up, goes home, and the lights buzz fitfully die.
Then it's a street of dim moonlight and dark whispers and the wind of the autumn night, the wind that scatters everything.
Yesterday's headline, yesterday's dreams, yesterday's people.
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 Tartaglia and Jack Prussian as Muggavan.
The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage.
In tonight's story, Lillian Bief was heard as Peggy Weber, Anthony Barrett as Ralph Clay, Paul Frese as Randy Quantrill, Bob Bruce as Mr. Chase, and Edgar Berrier as Paul Marley.
Here are two Sunday features that have captured America's fancy year in and year out.
On Sunday afternoon, the distinguished music of the symphonette directed by Michelle Piastro.
On Sunday evening, the outstanding vocals of the choral heirs.
Listen for both these musical treats every Sunday on most of these same CBS radio stations.
The symphonette in the afternoon, in the evening, the choral heirs.
Stay tuned now for Songs for Sale, which follows immediately over most of these same stations.
Bill Anders speaking.
And remember this Monday night, Lux Radio Theater features 13 Hollywood stars in the gala salute on the CBS Radio Network.