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THE DRY GULCH CAPER and THE 12345679 CAPER ADVENTURES OF SAM SPADE
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I don't care what you say...Effie is hot!
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Dennis Black
Ever notice your dog slowing down and having health issues and wonder, what can I do to make them better? Well, my friend, add rough greens to your dog's food for 90 days and I guarantee you'll see changes that will amaze you. Greetings, naturopathic doctor Dennis Black, inventor of rough greens here. And I invite you to give your pup the Ruffgreens 90 Day Challenge. In the first 30 days, you'll see shinier coats and increased energy. By day 60, your dog will have a stronger immune system, less shedding, improved joint function, all due to the live nutrients that you've added to their diet. And at 90 days, better digestion, reduced inflammation, improved heart health, and you may even have reduced their cancer risk. Fetch your dog a free Jumpstart trial bag today. Go to try roughgreens.com use promo code. Try rough. That's T R Y R U F F. Go to try rough greens.com use promo code. Try rough. Use. You just cover the shipping. You don't have to change your dog's food to improve your dog's health. Just add a scoop of rough greens. When the Moore family dished cable Internet and switched to Zigly Fiber, they got so much more. Mr. Moore got more upload speed for next level gaming and live streaming to the masses. With reliable service, Mrs. Moore is no longer her family's IT guru, leaving her more time to stream games into overtime. Let's go. And young Mason Moore got more done quickly uploading HD product demos and video conferencing without freezing. The numbers look good. Brad, you're on mute. Switch from cable Internet to Ziply Fiber and get more of what you love for $65 less per month than cable at ziply fiber.com Casting Company presents the Adventures of Sam Spade Detective Sam Spade Detective Agency. Me sweetheart Bounce along space dance along the only cowpoke in the west with so much daylight between him and his saddle the California Limited can pass under without ever slackening speed. I'm rough and I'm tough and I'm ready gal I'll out shoot, out ride and out court any man in boots or barefooted either, as a matter of fact. Choose your weapon. What's come over you? Where have you been? Where the air is warm and the women are warmer if and the end comes swift and Sutton I took Horace Greeley's advice Where sweethearts I went wet where with them? I mean, are we already done? Keep your reins tight, gal. I calculate the bow leg my way through the door garbed in my 12 gallon hat, my buckskin shirt, my worn Levi's and my twin six guns with extra large hammers to dictate my report on the Dry Gulch caper. Or they went that a way. For NBC, William Spear, Radio's Outstanding Producer, Director of Mystery and Crime Drama, brings you the greatest private detective of them all in the Adventures of Sam Spade. Come here, prairie flower. Are you the new school, Marvin? Oh, what's happened to you, Sam? You're so strong. So for real. For real. Not only that, so beat, Effie, so absolutely beat. Was there anything right here, sir? Not unless you have an in at the local cushion factory. Shall we, Pete? I'd like to get it over with. Painful, you mean. It gives you a headache just to think of it. It's not my head that I was referring to. You ready, little? Pardon? Ready. Date. Fill it in. To Lieutenant R.C. halliday, robbery details, San Francisco Police Department. City from Samuel Spey, license number 137596. Subject the Wild West Caper or hop along. Cassidy can have it. Dear Halliday, I should say at this very instant I should be cramming for my entrance exams to the mission home for saddle store private detectives. But knowing how this report will tidy up your files, I shall proceed in a standing position. It was late yesterday afternoon when for me, the bells hold. That was when I first heard the purdy voice of the girl of the golden wet. Mr. Spade, you are so the detective. Seven days a week, 24 hours a day. Who? Mr. Spade. I'm calling about my grandfather. He. You don't even know who I am, do you? I cannot tell a lie. I don't, ma'am. My name's Penny Brewster, and I only hope I can tell you the story before Grandfather comes to phone. The story? Yes. You see. Oh, here he comes. Play along with him, Mr. Spade, please. And remember, you're not Sam Spade the detective. You're Marshall Spade of the California Rangers. Marshall? Wait a minute, I, I. You must look the part in a blue serge suit. You'll think of something, I know you will. I've heard Pilot protectively. Terrible cover. Well, I, I. Marshall Spade. That's right. Buck Brewster talking. Yeah, and he says you're the strangest shooting pokey since Billy the Kid. T. Rex, huh? Oh, sure, sure, T. Rex, Buck T. Rex things. You and the horse fly along like you was one T. Rex. Buck, at one time or another, I've taken a flyer on every nag in the game, plotters included, and you're my man. Marshall, get up here fast. The Shootin's liable to start any minute. We. We have a bad connection on this phone. I thought you said the shooting's liable to start. I ain't got no time to waste on useless palaver. Spades. Just get up here. I'll paint the whole picture when I see you. Get up where? Where are you? Why in dry goats. Where else would I be? Well, that's. Or where is dry goats. Take the main trail north out of town till you spot the Oak circle. Then bear right. Yeah, I'll go down now and leave a change amount to the circle. How far would you say this circle is from San Fran? Oh, about a half day hard ride. I reckon. Half a day's look, but I. I don't think I better. I'm out of conditions. You know I haven't been riding lately. Oh, sure. That ain't what my purty granddaughter tells me. Purdy, eh? Half a day's hard ride, about 20 miles, huh? I don't remember any time along there. Don't worry about the town marshal. It's here. Just get in your saddle and get your lope. You're sure there's a town there? I ain't got time to argue geography with you. Now listen. Them fifty dollar gold pieces clinking together and I got a whole semiful of them. Are you coming up here? But tell him to take to the high hills. Sam Spade rides again. I made two stops before I hailed a cab and told the startled driver to proceed north on the main trail out of town. At a corner newsstand where I rippled through a Western story magazine to determine what the saddle and slave brush fed his way wearing this season. And at the Hitch and Post costume shop where I don what I thought was a rather colorful facsimile of the same, we drove out 101 at a smooth 55 for almost half an hour before I spotted a circular clump of trees complete with horse. As we reared to a halt, the driver looked back at me and shook his head. I'm taking down your description, buster, just in case they have. Black 10 gallon hat, rifle silk shape, almond. Gang or a chaps boy, I've seen everything. Now you obviously aren't an Esquire man. Now this wardrobe was personally endorsed by Mr. T. Yeah, yeah. You sure you want to get out here buster? At this very spot, buster. But there ain't nothing here. But nothing wrong, my good man, for you there is this for me yonder steed and the dusty trail on your right. Pleasant journey back to the fort and keep an Eye appeal for the Indians. A fruitcake. I've been hauling a fruitcake. He drove off and I staggered on the sides of my ankles toward the horse, the mount that Buck had left for me. Now this ornery critter took one look at my costume and as I swung up into the saddle, he shuddered, then closed his eyes and Bowie. Hey. Weep for me, horse. Hey. Hard. Hard. It was approximately seven miles later and I was beginning to feel better because I was paralyzed from the waist down that we flashed past a sign that read Dry Gulch City limits. Beware of flying lead. And then came Dry Gulch Hopper. Ramshackled buildings lined at solitary dusty streets, roof sagging, walls leaning crazily inward. There wasn't a human being in sight. Dry Goats was a ghost town. We comped past the Golden Spur Cafe, Whitey's Tonoral Parlor, the Lone Ace gambling Casino and German saddle and harness Shop. All deserted before my horse piled to a halt in front of the Red Dog Saloon. I dismounted and hobbled in. Inside, the Red Dog was a spider's paradise. Cobwebs covered everything a Jesse James wanted, posters hacked on a wall, an 1835 calendar bearing a picture of Sam Houston, even a bottle of Red Eye standing on the bar. I was washing the trail dust out of my throat when a familiar object on a shelf behind the bar caught my attention. I shoved the bottle hastily away from me and rapidly blinked my eye. But what I'd seen was still there. A brand new oak tape television set. And then somebody shoved another familiar object right into my rib. For your sake, I hope you're Marshall Spade Spain. And also for my sake, I hope you don't have a nervous trigger finger. Mighty careless, Marshall, drinking with your back to the door. Let me look you over. Turn around. All right, Buck, here we are. Well, why in tarnishing are you rigged out like that? Well, perhaps these aren't my best colors, but. Oh, how about this shooting you spoke of? What's the trouble, Buck? Oh, it's that low down snake, Blackie Toliver. Marshall Blackie Toliver. Oh, you must have heard the Blackie. Yeah, this is him here. Blackie Toliver sought for the robbery of the Cattlemen's national bank, Oklahoma City, June 25, 1894. Rough honor. AK use, Kai use. But direct. We crossed trails first when he pulled that job, me being A sheriff in 94 was up to me to chase him down. But he wrangled himself a pardon. Slippery snake. And then, well, four years later I hit Tombstone all prime to settle down. Even had Little Finley all fre out. But it never happened. What then? Oh, that creeping, crawling Blackie to sweet talked her into leaving town with him. Your girl ran off with Blackie to get hit in Dawson City. Then he stranded her there sick and broke. I burned leather getting to her when I heard, but I was too late. Oh, I'm sorry, but. But that's a long time ago. Well, I vowed I'd get that sidewinder. I fished him all over the west, but I still couldn't catch him then. Then three days ago, I seen him again. Here in Dry Goat? No, no, on tv. What? Yeah, some program was telecasting about a new bank opening in histo. And there, there biggie's life was Blackie, right on the tv. You could recognize him on television. Amazing. And you know what he was doing there, Marshall? What? Blackie Tolliver, who's held up more banks than I've got fingers and toes, was the guard in that bank. You mean he pulled a switch, huh? Trailing with the law. Now, quick as the TV was finished, I writ him a letter. I challenged him to a shootout here in Grey Ghost where no one could interfere. And as soon as he's a shows up, I'm gonna cut him down. Well, what makes you think he'll show? Well, two of his gang was skulking around yesterday looking to lay out for him. You need two of his gang? How do you figure that? Well, it's simple. I sent him that letter when the nay shows up. The first humans to set foot in dry goats in 10 years. Yes, sir. Now, if Blackie's got a gang, I might need some help. See, that's where you come in. If things get too rough, you're gonna step in and swing the tide. Me? Why, I haven't swung a tide in years. Penny. Penny. A girl now entered the Red Dog. A girl, and I do not use the term loosely. Golden hair frames a face that belonged nowhere but on a ranch romance cover and her plaid shirt and jeans and taste. The sort of figure that lonely cow pokes dream of. The sort of figure, as a matter of fact, that lonely private detectives dream of, too. Now, this is my granddaughter, Penny, Marshall. Penny is a new saddle, ain't he? Howdy, Marshall. I've heard a lot about you. So I've heard. Show the Marshall where he'll bed down, honey. And keep your eyes open, Spade. Them varmints are liable to strike any minute. Well, you can run along now. Okay, but you'll be here. Well, I wouldn't be Nowhere else for the next half hour. Now he's bus Sandy coming on. Sage brushed Sandy. Yes, sir. The best thing that ever happened to tv. The greatest stick jockey the size of Pecos River. Now if I can just find them. Now we remove the paste from the oven. Ready? Oh dear, what a mess. Well, for a quick substitute today, dad granted Cooking next first. Oh, Dixieland, that Dixie man. Musical murder, that's what it is. And San Francisco police have no clue to the whereabouts of two armed gunmen who late this afternoon forced the guard to open the doors of the Park State bank and escape with a suitcase full of currency. Dixie Land bank robbers wearing tarnation Sagebrush Sandy, I am. Just listen to that record. He's a spinning. Now that's real music. Now we must let's quickly. I take it Sagebrush Sandy's program doesn't do anything for you. Well, let's say the fresh air does more. I'm glad you stayed, Mr. Sage. For a minute I was afraid you were leaving dry Go. Where were you? Outside the window. You were trying to reach. You mean you heard all the things Buck said? Uh huh. We turn in here. This is the Overland Hotel. You're not worried about your grandfather? No, Mr. Spade. There's nothing wrong with him. Just in life is. Ever since I can remember. Oh, well, here you are. Not the fair amount exactly. Charming. Charming about Buck. Grandfather's a very old man who's trying desperately to live in the past. That's why he bought dry goats. You mean he bought the whole town? Lock, stock and barrel. It was, well, a dream he'd had for years come true. A chance to live out his life and the sort of surroundings he loved. And Blackie Tolliver, the demon bank robber who came back on television the other day. I've heard about Blackie Tolliver since I was so high. This showdown with Blackie is all Grandfather talked about. When it doesn't happen, there'll be no living with him unless he can be convinced. Blackie was just too scared to face him. And I'm to convince him? Why me? Who could convince him easier than Marshall Spade of the California Rangers talking to him man to man. Oh, I see. Well, look, I can't take his mind just for tonight. Tomorrow you can leave me. Forget the whole thing. You will help me, won't you, Sam? Her face was only inches for mine and getting closer every second. When the silence of Dry Dogs was shattered by shouts and the sound of pounding trees, I crossed the room and took it out into the twilight. A man was running from The Red Dog Saloon to the hotel, but nowhere near fast enough. All four of the shots that lanced out from the Red Dog caught him directly under my window. He staggered drunkenly and then fell face up in the street as I looked down at him. Two forks were inescapable. A, his was the same face Buck had shown me on the poster. So there was A Blackie Collider, and B whatever game Penny's grandfather was playing right now is apparently one he was playing for keep. You are listening to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective. Sam sp? Have you met our new baby yet? I mean, NBC's new baby, the Big Show. And what a baby it is. The biggest baby you ever heard. And he's not crying either. Why should he cry? With stars like Tallulah Bankhead, Jimmy Durante, Clifton Webb, Mindy Carson, Meredith Wilson and a host of others to make him radio's greatest spectacle ever. This Sunday and every Sunday, meet the Big Show. An hour and a half of comedy, music and drama. All this and Tallulah, too. No wonder it's the Big Show. And Sunday evening over most of these NBC stations also means Theater Guild on the air. Now back to the Dry Gulch caper. Or they went that away. Tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. Blackie Toliver was still alive but unconscious when Penny and I reached him moments later. His forced breathing was the only sound to be heard along Dry Gulch's single street. Wherever Buck had gone after the shooting, whatever he was doing, he was quiet as a mouse. I examined Blackie as best I could in the dusky lane. Was wearing a Park State Bank Guard uniform and it was soaked with red. He needed medical attention fast, you guys. And they'll call it murder, won't they? Let's not talk about that now, won't they? What else could they call it? Like he didn't have a prayer. He isn't even carrying a gun. Grandfather, are we going to do Right now we're going to get Black into a hospital. That means we'll need horses and some help. There's no one to help us. Well, there's Buck. You saddle horses. I'll find him. If we take him to a hospital, he still might die. And what will we gain? But if we didn't, no one would ever know that. Grandfather. Penny. I'll saddle horses. Sam, please don't hate me for what I was thinking. I carried Bucky to the hotel porch and did what I could to make him comfortable. Then I started looking for Bu. Buck's TV set was still on when I reached the Red Dog, but it was playing through a dark, empty house. I turned away to continue my search. And then I stopped. The music tearing at my eardrums was pure Dixieland Musical murder, as Buck call it. I checked my watch. 6:23. Only 23 minutes since Penny and I left the saloon. That meant Sagebrush Sandy still had seven minutes to go. I could see Buck taking a powder after dropping Blackie but I couldn't see him forsaking his beloved Sandy but Dixieland before he did it. I was wondering who had switched channels when I saw what I'd missed before. A sliver of light shining under a door at the back of the room. I cat footed my way across the Red Dog and had almost reached the door when for the second time since my arrival in Dry Gulch, I felt a gun barrel pressed against my spine. Don't stop, Snoop. Just keep moving right on through the door. I'm sorry, sir. I can hardly hear you with that music. All right, so we can turn it off. I mean, thank you. Thank you. Now. Now move. Well, you insist, but I can only stay a moment. Talky. What happened? Thought the population of this town was but one. So did I, Al. I got rid of the old timer, but on the way back I ran into this G. Apparently the census taker's overlooking him. It only proves you can believe no man. We are given positive assurance the place is deserted, yet traffic suddenly becomes unbelievable. Well, perhaps I was being over friendly. Gentlemen, we Westerners get carried away now and then. Now, if you'll excuse me. Well, that's. Yes, friend, you have just arrived. Really, boys, it's far past my usual bedtime, so you sleep in tomorrow. Sit down. Leave us. Ch. There were several things in that candlelit back room I could have chatted about. I could have told Al Torino, short, swarthy and one of the best known bank boys in the business that I'd recognized him as soon as his friend herded me through the door or perhaps mentioned the currency stacked high on the table before him. Each packet held together by a paper binder with the words Park State bank of San Francisco stamped very neatly on it. Now, suppose you tell us about what you snooping around for. Gentlemen, this is all a grievous misunderstanding. I merely happened by to remind you of the annual rodeo to be held at Devil's Elbow this coming Saturday. An innocent, friendly gesture. Tell us more. A most colorful event. The Rodale bronco busting, covered wagon races, wild steer roping and anyone can enter now. Perhaps you would be interested. Me? Why? I haven't roped a wild steer in. Almost fortunate, your friend. Perhaps. Heaven alone knows how long it's been since I roped the stair. I busted a bron. Well, it was just a thought. Bye. Hold it, please. I'm most unhappy that we misjudged you, friend. Oh, it's nothing. Every call can't be a happy one. You only make me feel worse. I feel we owe you something for at least thinking of us, don't you? Coffee? Yes, indeed. I'll. I couldn't think of it. I'll just run along. No, our minds are made up. Give it old Corky. I dove for him as the words left his mouth because I knew what they intended to give me. But I only got in one punch because Corky knew what Al was going to say before he said it. That gave him a slight advantage and it was all he needed. When I came out of it, I was lying in total darkness. And I wasn't alone. Oh, dad. Blasted varmints. You wouldn't like it loose and get my hands on it, varmint. Let me loose. Just a minute, Buck. I'll give you a hand. There you are. Hey, how'd they get you, Buck? Oh, I was watching the TV and I heard the car and then Blackie and them two that were stroking around yesterday drove up and they walked right into the Red Dog as if they were him in the stairs. Who was carrying the suitcase? Blackie was. And the others was walking along behind him with their guns drawed, protecting him so I couldn't get to him. So I sneaked around to the front of the Red Dog hoping I could surprise him. And it was me that got surprised though. Well, what happened, Buck? Well, they was in the back room and Blackie was hollering about a dibble cross and a fair cut. And that's your kind of talk. And then the door busted open and he come a tearing out across the room with that little critter right behind him. That'll be Alterino. He's the one who got Blackish. He what? Got Blackie. You mean that wall eyed critter's been messing around my range? Remember we heard on TV about the Park State bank being knocked over? These are the boys who did it. Well, I'll be your. And Blackie was the hostage that announced the photo was talking about he was the bank guard. And they took it. No, no, Blackie was in it too. The inside man. He had to be. Do you think Blackie opened Them doors for him without any persuasion, huh? I'll give you odds on it, Buck. And they didn't just happen to pick Dry Gulch as their hideout either. Frankie must have suggested it after you wrote and told him you were up here all along. You didn't know it, but you were handing him a perfect hideout. Yes, but why would one of his own gang drop Blackie Perino? And the other one apparently figured a lot of money for three would be even more for two. Yeah. Hey, hey, listen to that. Now the environment suspicion to pull out. Come on, let's go get him. I'm right with you. But hold up. Hold up, you bushwhacking dudes. Hey. Oh, dad. Raditz. We're too late, Marshal. There they go tearing down the back road. Is there any way we can cut across country and head them off? Oh, no, not a foot. We cans. And by the time we saddle up some ponies, they'll be home. It pains me to even mention this, Buck, but I sent Penny to do just that some time ago. You did? Yeah. Well, what are we waiting for? We galloped up draws, down canyons, through streams, over cliffs. And the only place on me that felt good was my head, where Corky had sapped me. And finally, Buck, riding ahead of me, pulled his pony to a halt and waited for me to catch up. Somehow I slid south off my horse's neck and was back in the saddle again when I drew abreast of him. Well, we ain't gonna have to trap them dudes. Death Row Marshall, huh? No. Cripple Creek. Done it first. Cripple Creek. The driest creek in the west. It crosses the road up ahead of Peace. And right now them critters is sitting hub deep in sand. Come on, let's start riding. Circle. Riding circle, Indian style. Oh. Round and round the car. Should we pick them off? Oh, no, Buck. We're gonna handle this my way. And it won't be on horseback. Here. What fancy plan do you got? None. It's very simple. We leave the horses right here. You get as close to them as you can along the road, and I'll circle around behind them. Now, don't show yourself until I go after you. Got it? Well, all right. But I still think certainly better. I left him there and dodged from bush to boulder to tree, working my way to a position behind Al, Toino and Cory. I had just reached a rock formation that overlooked a road right over their car and clipped my.38 out of its hiding place beneath the purple silk shirt when I realized that Buck wasn't going to do things anyway but his own. I make you play around. Stood in the headlights, clear crouch slow slightly behind Perino and his henchmen. His hands were an indistinct blur as Perino spun around, digging for his left armpit. He was fast, but it's almost impossible to outdo a man who uses a breakaway shoulder holster. I was on my feet running through toward the car when Buck staggered backward, a look of surprise on his face, and then crumbled to the ground. I fired as I ran, and Corky startled face was still falling forward when Al Torino caught the last of my bullets and followed him down. I reached Buck and lifted him into a sitting position. His eyes were bewildered as he looked up at me. He got me, Marshall. Easy, easy, Buck. Now, let's have a look. Oh. Oh, yeah, but you were lucky. Just raised the rib. He got me, Marshall. And I guess I better hang up my shooting irons and just concentrate on tending Penny. You know, Buck, I've been wondering how you wound up with a granddaughter anyway. If the filly Blackie ran off with meant so much to you, how could you marry up with somebody else? Oh, shucks, Marshall. Penny's grandma was twice the woman. That first one was best in the rest. Well, then how come you held a grudge against Blackie all those years and wanted to shoot it out with him? Oh, I didn't really regret it all. A man's gotta have a little excitement in his life, don't he? Period. End of report. Damn. What a fantastic story. It is that if it is that. But go type it up anyhow. Are you sure you aren't making up the whole thing for the doubting Thomases? I have a matched set of saddle scars to prove the truth of each and every statement. Oh, I think you would for it. I'll type it up right away. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. There's no cover charge at Duffy's Tavern. Just keep your dial tuned to NBC later as Archie and his delightful friends cook up another mad and merry session at that remarkable restaurant, Duffy S. This Sunday, the big show comes your way again on NBC. The best in comedy, music and drama. With unpredictable Tallulah as MC Jimmy Durante, Clifton Webb and many more. Here it is. D no questions. Well, Ron, if you don't mind. Ask, ask. Yeah, he died, I suppose. Indeed not. Be up and in fine fiddle by the time his pile rolls around. But you went galloping across the desert and forgot all about him. Who took care of him? The doctor who Else. The doctor. Yes. What doctor? In a ghost town. Oh, besides forgetting Blackie, I also forgot there was a phone in dry gout. That's how Penny contacted me in the first place, remember? And she called a doctor Mrs. Penny. You sort of liked her, didn't you say? Oh, she was all right. And a beautiful, gorgeous son of Wayne. Oh, I see we never did get to sit down and talk things over. Ass. In fact, I never got to sit down. I still haven't. Poor Sam. It's like mother says, we all have muscles that we're not accustomed to use. And then when we use them, they just. They do indeed. The things you have to do to make both ends meet. A. Shut up. Come here. Good night. Good night, sweetheart. The adventures of Sam Spade are produced, edited and directed by William Spears. Sam Spade was played by Stephen Dunn. Lorraine Tuttle as Effie. Wally Mayer was Buck. Script for tonight's adventure by Don Carey. Musical scoring by Lud Gleskin conducted by Robert Armbruster. Join us again next week, same time for another adventure with Sam Spade. Hear the magnificent Montague. Then visit Duffy Tavern on NBC Foreign. Discover the life changing benefits of Meow greens for your cat. Ever see your cat slowing down or having health issues and wonder what can I do to make them better? Well, my friend, add meow greens to your cat's food for 90 days and I guarantee you'll see changes that will amaze you. Greetings. I'm naturopathic doctor Dennis Black, inventor of meow greens and I invite you to take the Meow Greens 90 day challenge. In the first 30 days, you'll see shinier coats and increased energy. By day 60, your cat will have a stronger immune system, less shedding, improved joint function, all due to the live nutrients that you've added to their diet. And at 90 days, they're going to have better digestion, reduced inflammation, improved heart health, and you may even have reduced their cancer risk. Fetch a free Jumpstart trial bag for your cat today. Go to TryMeow Greens. Use promo code TRY MEOW. That's TRY M E O W. You just cover the shipping. You don't have to change your cat's food to improve your cat's health. Just add a packet of meow greens. When the Moore family dished cable Internet and switched to siddly fiber, they got so much more. Mr. Moore got more upload speed for next level gaming and live streaming to the masses. With reliable service. Mrs. Moore is no longer her family's IT guru, leaving her more time to stream Games into overtime. Let's go. And young Mason Moore got more done quickly uploading HD product demos and video conferencing without freezing the numbers. Look good, Brad. You're on mute. Switch from cable Internet to Ziply Fiber and get more of what you love for $65 less per month than cable@ziply fiverr.com the National Broadcasting Company presents the Adventures of Sam Spade Detective Sam Spay Detective Agency Me Sweetheart, what was that last? Nothing. That was my teeth chattering. Oh, is it cold out out where I was, Effie, I've been swimming in December. Oh, Sam, you caught a chill. That's true F I caught a real Russian chill. They're not keeping San Francisco Bay as well heated as they might. The bay, Sam, you were swimming in the. Where else? Eph? Oh, Sam, you've been drinking. Only brine, angel. And what? Kelp juice I could scavenge. Kelp juice? Oh, it was a taxing experience. F a lesser man couldn't have come through it. Lay out some dry clothes for me. Mix me a hot draw. Get out your pencil that writes underwater and prepare to take down a narrative of international intrigue and espionage which we will call. Lets see the 251-235-6679 caper. What? Or the Russian's number is up. NBC invites you to listen to the greatest private detective of them all as William Speer, Radio's Outstanding Producer Director of Mystery and Crime Drama brings you the Adventures of Sam Spade. Effie, here I am. Sam, I was just calling the janitor to see if he could turn on some more heat so you could. Oh, you're not so very wet. Well, I had a dry martini on the way over. Dr. Ames called you a few hours ago. Dr. Oscar Ames? Did he? That was nice. He was worried about you. Wanted to know if you'd been found yet. He said you two were on a ferry boat and that he just stepped in to have a cup of coffee. And when he came back. Yes, if he is well, can keep the FBI waiting. The FBI? Who else? You don't think I was playing around with kids on this caper? No, no, no, Sam. I knew they were grown up. Now. Take it down then. In this one, your Uncle Sam was working for his Uncle Sam. They fill it in two. Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington D.C. care of J. Edgar. Oh, no, that'd be too much. Well, why not? From Samuel Spade, license number 137596. Subject Boris Kargamenski. How do you spell that? Sam Kargamenski. K A, R, G. I Don't mean that. I mean Boris. Oh, I should have known. B O R I S Dear sir, last night I let my secretary off at 5:30 so that she could go and do some Christmas shopping. Although I've told her repeatedly that all I want this year is money. The fog was rolling in off the bay and it was bitter cold as I came out onto the street, pulling my overcoat collar up around my ear. Seemed like the night for spaghetti. A wonderful spaghetti dinner and some pleasant Italian hospitality down at Mama Pizza's restaurant on the Embarcadero opposite the Ferry Building. So that's where I went. But Mama Pizza had more than hospitality on her mind when she met me at the door. Oh, I'm so glad to find you. I'm just calling you off. Oh, what's the trouble, Mama? Someone been stealing ravioli? Please. My cousin Tony. They tried to kill him. Oh, what happened, Mama? Come on, Sam, you eat with us. Our table. I'll make a. Tony tell you this do not feel so good. But he can talk all right. You're gonna see. She led me to the back of the restaurant, to the table where the family generally sits. Her daughters, Angelina and Patty were there with plates of food in front of them, but they weren't eating any of it. They were staring in awe at the man who sat next to him. He was small to start with, but he was even smaller, hunched down in his chair, miserably, staring unseeing into a glass of wine. On the table in front of him was a battered old concertina. The top of his head was swathed in a clean new bandage. Sit down, sit down. This is my cousin, Tony Kaluchi. Tony, my good friend, mister. Hello, Tony. Hello. Go on, Tony. You tell Sam what's happened on you. Sam, you have your dinner at the same time. Yeah. Don't forget, tonight you're gonna be monkey. What do you like to eat? Well, I don't care. Mama. What's that on the. On your plate, Angelina? You gonna eat that? Well, pass it over and waste not, want not. That's what I always say. Now, what happened on you, Tony? Well, I'm on the boat. Yeah, with both the ferry boat. Auckland ferry boat. Don't you never hear my music on the boat? Ah. Do you play the concertina on the ferry ride? Sure, man. No more. Tonight on the 6 o'clock boat. Oh, boy. Tonight on the 6 o'clock Boat. What? I'm gonna play inside the first by the sandwich place. And everybody say, oh, boy, Tony, you good. You play good. Play some more. 10 cents a year, 5 cents, 2 quarters even. Then I go up the stairs. Oh, boy, oh, boy. And then I go out on the deck. It's a very misty, foggy black. I can see nothing. I'm very happy. I feel like a play some more. So I'm a walk away back and up and down at the deck. And I make a music. It's then all of a sudden I hear somebody. Some say something to me. I can't see nobody. I hear him. What do you think he said to me? What? What? As in borrow? Well. So I'm say back to him. I still can't see nobody. Then I hear him say, is that you play Boris? So I get mad. I say, no, I don't play Boris. I play Pagliacci, Tosca Trovatore. I don't play Boris. That's foreign stuff. I see. Then I'm sorry. I say that because this fellow, he sounds like he's foreign. So I'm just gonna say, look, mister. Oh, boy. What, Tony, what? Baton. I get a head on the hit on the head, smash patong. I fall down. I'm a bleeding. I drop on my concertina. My head's got a bigger hole on the top. I let out a big yell. Then I'm a blackout. Oh, boy. People come running around in a good lock. There's a doctor on the board. They carry me down the stairs and he fix me up. Otherwise, I'm a die for sure. Well, what did it feel like? What he hit you with? Well, it feel like a baseball. My doctor is. Oh, look, he is the doctor now. Just come in. Hey, doc. The doctor looked in our direction when Tony called and strolled over to the table. A big six foot three blonde guy in the Joel McCrae, Gary Cooper tradition. You had to like him right away. No bedside manner to this doctor. Although he could have had as much of it as he liked. He was old business, and no kidding. I thought I told you to go to bed and stay there. Well, Doc, I just want. You may have a concussion. Tony, I'll be back here in an hour and then we'll take some X rays. My name is Sam Spade, doctor. I'm a friend of the family. Oh, Ames. Dr. Oscar Ames. How are you, Dr. Ames? Denise, can I get you something to eat? No, thanks, Mama. Smells wonderful, but I haven't time. I'll have a cup of coffee maybe. Sure. You want some makeup? Tony, go to bed. Yeah, go on now. Tony, go lie down. Be back and we'll check you over. Get some rest. In the meantime. All right, all right. Dr. Ames, I don't know. X rays, the whole thing. I don't know how I'm going to pay you. Never mind that. That's why we charge our Knob Hill patients a little extra. So we're able to do something like this once in a while. This will be on me, Tony. You go the kind of man, a doctor. I. I don't know what to say. You go on and lie down, Tony. You're embarrassing the doctor. All right, all right. Screwy thing this one, isn't it, Doctor? Sure is. Here's for your coffee. Oh, thanks, Mama. Yeah, sure is. Homicidal maniac. Looks like Mr. Spade. Spade, Sam. Are you the detective? Yeah, that's right. Well, I know about you. You did something for a colleague of mine, Murphy. Dr. Raul Murphy. Murphy? Murphy, Yeah, I did a job for him last summer. Yeah, he gave you a great send off. Said, what is all this tonight down here? Detectives. Police? How do you mean? Well, I think there were police. Five or six plain clothes guys. They were waiting here on this side when the ferry pulled into the slip. They're still there holding the boat. I just left them. What were they doing? Talked to all the passengers as they came off. Asked us for identification. Hey, what do they think about Tony's little experience getting knocked on the head? Oh, they were mighty interested, naturally. Especially when I told them how I thought the wound had been inflicted. Which was? Gun butt. Gunbot, eh? Wow. I'd say so. Lord knows I saw enough of those in the war. The Russians used to club prisoners over the head that way to save ammunition and then fling the guys in the river. Oh, hey, I've got to go take that dreary ride again. What, the ferry? Yeah, I've got a patient over in Oakland. Had to come back over here to pick up some serum. Phoned my nurse and she met me just out here. Well, nice to have seen you, Sam. Oh, tell what's his name? Tony. Hey, wait a minute, Doc. I've got nothing to do. I'll ride over with you. A little air won't do this dinner any harm. We crossed the street, went into the Ferry Building. Everything was normal enough for the main waiting room where I stopped to buy cigarettes and a pocket flashlight. But outside on the dock where the Oakland boat was waiting to take off, there were a number of extra characters whom you wouldn't think would have chosen a dismal, chilly night like this for waterfront lounging. There wasn't anybody I knew, and in any gathering of plain clothes Men, local variety. I generally spot one or two familiar faces. Dr. Ames and I got aboard, followed by three of these gentlemen, the broadest one, who was built for endurance, exchanged pleasantries with us as the boat moved out into the water. Hello, Dr. Ames. I see you didn't miss the boat. Like the old saying. No. Who are you? Of? The fellas I talked to before when we landed. Yeah, that's right. I don't think I got your name. Connolly. Connolly? That's Mr. Spade? Yeah. Would that be Lieutenant Connolly or Sergeant? Maybe just Connolly. No special title. How's the little fella doing? Dr. Kaluchi? Tony? He's under care. He talk anymore? Say anything interesting? I didn't talk to him. Mr. Spade here did. Oh, really? Really. What do you have to say? Well, you see, I'm an old friend of his family. What he told me was incompetent, and I'd really have to know a little more about who I'm telling his secrets to. I say, Spade, your name was. Still is. Nice to meet you. Ghostbadin. Ghostbadin means nothing to you, huh? It might. Ghost vadin. Sounds like another word somebody might think you said. Cuspido. That's very funny. Hey, you gonna stay out here on deck? We haven't made up our minds. Is that okay? Ought to go inside, have a little coffee at the snack bar. It's comfortable. Rides over before you know it. Out here it's foggy, wet and miserable. Well, I'm going in. I'll see you later. Goodbye, Doc. Well, maybe he's right. Although I must say, he's not my favorite man in the world. That Mr. Connolly. It is strictly pneumonia weather out here on deck. Shall we go in? Not just yet. For me, Doctor. I think I'll stretch my legs a little. Doc, tell me, where was it that Tony got caught? On the upper deck. I know, but which side? See, we're turned around now, starboard, just about directly above where we're standing. Yeah, right. Don't point, Doc. Our friend Connolly and his boys are on their way out to see us. No, they went back in. Do you think there's Mr. Oh, definitely that. You know what made them turn back? Just now decided it wasn't necessary to check whether we were still here. No. What? They can't make us out out here. It's too dark. But they can see two lighted cigarettes. Sam Spade, Detective. Look, even in the face of pneumonia, you want to get up there and look around where Tony was, don't you? I do. Well, then hand me your cigarette and I'll smoke them both a yard apart and we'll both be here. Except you, Oscar Ames. Am in the Masterful thinking, Doc. Go ahead. I'll be here. So I trod the slippery stairs to the upper deck. The fog was as wet as rain. I couldn't see any more than inches ahead of me with my flashlight. Finally, I stopped about a midship and looked down over the rail. Ames and his two cigarettes, tiny red dots of light that grew brighter every now and then as he puffed at him were almost directly beneath me. So I I knew I was just about right. A sudden noise over my head made me shoot my light up toward it. It came from a piece of canvas that had suddenly ripped loose the canvas that covered the top of a lifeboat. I got up there somehow and perched precariously, holding onto two steel supports with one arm. The piece of canvas had been ripped open with a knife, a hole large enough for a man's body to get through. And that's what was in there, sprawled in the bottom of the lifeboat. A man's body. He'd been stabbed in the neck. This was the man who had slugged Tony, or so it seemed, because the gun was still clenched in his right hand, barrel reversed. There's nothing in his pockets, just a handkerchief and $2 and change. But my flash caught a speck of something white in one of his shoes. It was a bit of paper with two typewritten lines on it. I let myself down at the deck, rubbed the circulation back and a my arm where I'd been holding on, and prepared to read the note. That's when my flashlight went dead. I groped about, cursing them for not checking their batteries until I found a faint, ghostly glimmer of light overhead, out over the edge of the ship on the outside of the rail. I climbed over, steadied myself against lurching, and lit a couple of matches. It said International Postcard Shop. Gerry Street. F SF Greeting card for Boris. I put the bit of paper in my pocket and turned to climb back over the rail. And then something came at me from the flash. It caught me full in the center of the forehead, and as I staggered came again like a block of wood, right on the top of my head. It made it burn with sudden fire. Tiny points of light glittered in the blackness, came rushing toward me and grew larger, and I fell, crashing over. They tell you a lot about what you remember when you're going down for the third time. You know what I remembered? I remembered that Gus Bed Yin is Russian for Comrade Sam Spade, Detective. You are listening to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective, Sam Steven Spade. Imagine the greatest names in stage, screen and radio. People like Bob Hope, Rosalind Russell, Meredith Wilson, Frankie Lane and many, many others. Imagine an hour and a half of the very finest in comedy, music and drama. Imagine all this rolled into one wonderful program presided over by the Distaff dynamo, Tallulah Bankhead. Well, NBC has the program. It's the big show, heard every Sunday night over most of these stations. All this and Tallulah, too. No wonder it's the big show. And Sunday evening also means Theater Guild on the air. This Sunday, Theater Guild presents Boomerang, starring Kirk Douglas. And now Back to the 2512-35679 caper. Tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. I found myself mechanically keeping afloat somehow and trying to get out of my overcoat. My eyes burned. I felt heavy and large, as if I'd swallowed gallons of water. My head began to clear a little, but with returning consciousness came increased pain. Pretty bad, too. From out of the misty blanket, from every direction, in a dozen different keys, from near and far, foghorns sounded. I knew that by now the current had swept me out of the path of the Oakland ferries. The water was chilling me, and I turned over and began swimming just hard enough to keep the blood circulating. The lights of a boat came into sight suddenly and I threw back my head and yelled. But the horn, crying its warning, drowned me out. And the boat went on and the fog closed in behind me. And then I found myself full of a strange and wonderful weariness. The water wasn't cold anymore. I was warm, with a comfortable, soothing numbness. And I knew what to do. I'd swim until I didn't hear the noise of the horns anymore. And then, in the quiet of the friendly fog, go to sleep. So I began to doze. And then some lights came into my eyes and I wanted to stay in the dark. And I turned my face down into the embrace of the water. And then I. I wasn't where you'd expect at all. I was lying on a baggage truck that was moving. People were crowding around, walking beside the truck, staring at me. The guy in uniform wheeling me noticed I had my eyes open. Well, hello, pal. Welcome back to the United States. Hello. What part of the United States? Just landing in Sausalito. Lay still. We'll take you over to the hospital. Sausalito, how long before this boat gets back to San Francisco? Right away. I'm going with. Hey, wait. You Ain't in no condition. Thanks. I'll be okay. Half an hour later, shivering and shaking in my wet clothes, keeping my mouth clamped tight so my teeth wouldn't sound like a dice game, I climbed into a taxi at the Ferry Building and went to my apartment. There I swallowed half a pint of whiskey and rubbed myself with a coarse towel until my skin was sore. Then I looked in the pocket of the soggy suit I'd hung up to dry. It was still there, the piece of paper from the dead man's shoe, damp but legible. International Postcard Shop Geary Street, SF Greeting card for Boris I got up to put on a dry suit and then changed my mind. Put the wet one back on. Good evening. Are you the proprietor here? Yes, that's right, sir. Six years at the same location. Oh, you. My goodness, is it raining out? You really got a dowsing. Yes, I did. Nice collection of postcards from all over South America. Every place. Yes, yes. I pride myself on having the most complete possible selection. Was there something you have especially in mind? Yes, there was. Oh, I'm looking for a greeting card for Boris. What's the matter? Didn't you hear me? Yes. Didn't you understand? Well, I. Well, what? It's only that I didn't exactly expect somebody like you. What did you expect? Somebody slinking around in a false mustache, wearing dark glasses and an Inverness cape. No, I. You know. You know, with your type of thinking, you may not be the right man for this job. Gaspeji. Now, wait, please. Mr. Lyubov. I thought you were dead. You drowned. Yeah. Who told you that? Well, you know. Yeah, well, I didn't drown. I jumped in the water when I heard him coming. You can see how wet I still am. Yes, yes, of course. So you escape easily. Enough talk. Hand it over. The greeting card for Boris. Very well. Let's see. That's San Francisco, of course. He turned and reached down onto the counter. I slipped my hand under my armpit and held my.38 ready in case he came up with something similar. But all he brought forth was a box marked special. From this, he extracted something and handed it to me. I took it with a knowing expression on my face, but I didn't know from nothing as to what it meant. All it was was an ordinary postcard. That's all. A picture postcard showing the Golden Gate Bridge. Underneath it, the caption, wonder Cities of the world number 25, 123-5679. San Francisco. Nothing else? I was afraid my mouth was open. What's the matter. Matter? Don't you know how to read the name? It's so difficult. Of course, Idy. It's certainly. I know how. I was just admiring the work, that's all. It is excellent, isn't it? Look, you better go now. You've been in here an awfully long time. We don't want. No, of course we don't. I'll go. Gasping I'm sorry to have been overly cautious. There is no such thing as over caution. Thank you. You were so. Well, you seem like an American. So do you. I strode out onto the street, clutching my postcard, but I shoved it inside my sleeve a moment later, because who I saw standing under the misty glimmer of a street light waiting for me was my heavy set, mysterious friend from the ferry boat, Connolly. I turned my head around and glanced down the other end of the block behind me. Two other guys were there, sure enough, and they advanced slowly toward me with their hands raised, palms out, as if they were showing me they weren't carrying guns. I reached my hand inside for mine all the same, but I never got to use it because Connolly rushed me from the other side. I caught him on the chin and he went down clattering into an ash can. The other two boys grabbed me and held my arms behind me. Connolly got up, rubbing his face, and I waited to get murdered. But no. All right. Come, Joe Lewis. Bring him along. And so they did. We didn't go far, though. Just around the corner to a little hamburger place that had a sign in the door saying closed, although there were lights inside. Connolly knocked on the door and a fellow with an apron came and opened it and locked it after us. Connolly gave him a nod and we sat down at a table while he brought us coffee. Spade. We've checked on you. You seem to be okay. You stand in good with the department, friend. What department would that be, friend? This department. FBI. Oh. Who? Maybe you can help Anyhow. We don't want you going around making a noise and messing it up for us, so here it is. I'm all ears. Did you ever hear of a man called Boris Kagaminsky? No. Well, not many people have, even in Russia. Boris Kagaminsky is the top Soviet agent in America. He's the head man. He organizes and runs everything for them here. I see now, he came to this country seven years ago and vanished. I've been trying to find him ever since. False passport, of course. That didn't help. There's nothing anywhere on Kagomensky. No pictures, not even in Russia. No fingerprints, nothing. Every lead we had, dead end. And then we got word last week. Go ahead, drink your coffee. Oh, I'm too interested. We got word last week that another agent, an unimportant little guy named Lyubov, was on to San Francisco and that he would definitely have to contact the big gun. Something to do with the Chinese war business that only Kagaminsky is big enough to handle. Well, our man tailed Yubov all the way out here, and then he lost him. The Oakland ferry. That didn't bother us very much. He called us, and we were waiting on this end. But in pulls the ferry and Noel Lyubov. Lyubov was a dead man in the lifeboat. Right. He must have been up there waiting to be contacted. Yeah. Then he heard Tony in his constitution, thought this might be it. Then when he realized he'd made a mistake and uncovered himself, he conked Tony on the head. Right. And his Soviet contact got scared of investigations on the boat following Tony's hue and cry and stabbed Lyubov. So now we're back where we started. Every passenger on that ferry was okay. What's that you're looking at? Picture postcard. Found a message on Lubov about the International Postcard Shop and a greeting for. Hey. Hey. A greeting for Boris. Boris Kargamensky. Let me see. I bulldozed the guy in the shop to let me have it. Looks like nothing. It's just a picture. But he said he. He said I could read the name. Gimme it. Golden Gate. Now these numbers. Wonder cities of the world. Number 2, 5, 1 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9. Hey, wait a minute. What? Print out the guy's name. Boris. All right. B O, R, I, S. Leave a space K a hive. G, A, M, E, N, S, K Y. Now put numbers. Now wait a minute. The top number is nine. All right, put 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 over Boris and then start again. 1, 2, 3. Up to nine over Kargaminsky. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah, yeah. So, all right. Now, what's your postcard? 2 5, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9. Okay, what's 2? 2, 2 is. Oh, 5s o, s. Now Kargaminsky. 1k, 23a, r, o, S. K A, R. Well, I guess we know the rest of it. 5000, 679am correct? Correct. Oscar Ames. Dr. Oscar Ames. What? I was just thinking. He was worried about me catching no pneumonia. I called Mama Pizza, and from what she said, we knew where to go. We picked him up at the emergency hospital. He was just finishing the operation on Tony's head. We watched him through the glass, and the other young doctor standing alongside us said he was one of the greatest surgeons they'd ever seen. When he unrolled his gloves and took off his operating mask, he looked up and saw me alive and the other boys with me. His scalp tightened for just a second, and then he smiled. It was when he reached into his bag that we rushed him before he could get the little red bottle to his lips. Period. End of report. Oh, Sam. A spy story. Yes, it was, eph. Everything. A chase and being thrown in the water and mysterious people and a cold message that'll kept you awake. Angel. Sam, what is it like not to want to be in America? Not to want to live the way we do in America? I can't imagine, sweetheart. I can't either. Sam, about Dr. Ames. Yeah? Do you think that. I mean, the way you described him and all. Do you think you made him sound too sympathetic? Oh, I described him as he was, that's all. But will anybody think that? Well, you know, he was attractive. But you missed the whole point, didn't you? Spies don't go around wearing models and talking with heavy accents and acting like spies. Not the good ones. It's the attractive, lovable, trustworthy strangers that are dangerous. Now, if you'd met Dr. Ames at a party somewhere, you'd be out with him at a nightclub right now, cooing over a drink and giving him the plans to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Sometimes I can't. I get mad, Sam. I don't even know where Brooklyn is. Lucky for our side. You don't hate me, do you, Sam? Aw, come here. Now, does that answer your question? Completely. Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. The adventures of Sam Spade are produced, edited and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade was played by Stephen Dunn. Loreen Tuttle is Effie. Script for tonight's adventure by William Speer. Musical scoring by Lud Gluskin. Conducted by Robert Armbruster. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. There's no cover charge at Duffy's Tavern. Just keep your dial tuned to NBC later as Archie, the manager, and his delightful friends cook up another mad and merry session at that remarkable restaurant, Duffy's Tavern. This Sunday, the big show comes your way on NBC again. An hour and a half of the best in comedy, music and drama, with guests Bob Hope, Martin and Lewis, Rosalind Russell, Frankie Lane and unpredictable Tallulah as mc Go ahead, tell them about the thing. Oh, yes. 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