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Choice Classic Radio Detectives | Old Time Radio
Broadway Is My Beat: The Amelia Ramirez Murder Case 07/17/1950
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Welcome to Choice Classic Radio where we bring to you the greatest old time radio shows like us on Facebook, subscribe to us on YouTube and thank you for donating@ChoiceClassicRadio.com Wrigley's spearmint chewing Gum the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment presents for your listening enjoyment. Broadway's My Beat From Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat. The thrilling drama of murder and mystery and the people who walk the Great White Way with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. To make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum Here's a taste treat you can enjoy indoors, outdoors, at work or or at play. The cool, long lasting mint flavor refreshes you. The smooth, steady chewing helps keep you fresh and alert. Adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum Healthful, refreshing, delicious. At twilight, the solitude that is Broadway's leans against an open door and abandons itself to the cooling fingers of the evening wind. And in that moment, in the scalpel light of dusk, Broadway stands revealed. The languid preening, the slow smoothing away of the day's wrinkles, the invitation not whispered, not spoken. At headquarters, the image blurs because a slip of paper has been laid on your desk. And this is how violent death announces itself. In the barrio. It says in Spanish Harlem, a man knifed, and through the window you can see Broadway smile. In the barrio, death is no stranger. It calls often, but this time it danced a variation it chose to perform in a storefront in a place of worship There are many such in the barrio. The rented store, the rented wooden chairs. The bare platform draped in black banners. Lighted with candles of many colors. And this is the altar. Here, women in black mantillas kneel with their men in supplication and the music of their prayer. Primitive, but now it's a lament for the man lying dead in their midst. They kneel in a circle about him, and the light of the candles caresses his face. A man leans against the wall, watching them. It's a man you know. Johnny Parotta. Detective on the barrio beat. He sees you, walks over to you, speaks gently, quietly. This is a new kind for you, isn't it, Danny? Yeah. Yeah. This is how it goes here in the barrio. You grub, you pray, you die. The dead man, Know him? No. I do. Before that, he was just another face you said, buenos dias to. Now there's a knife on his back. That makes me know him better. Who was he? Emilio Ramirez. A kid. Lived in a tenement on 99th. Here's the address. I found it in his wallet. These people tell me they were having their evening prayer. Like Neo. Staggered in from the street, cried out for his mother. Died. Any ideas? A few. Maybe some leads. Maybe. You'll work this with me, huh, Johnny? Sure. But maybe it'd be better if I took it alone for a while. They know me up here, Danny. I grew up in this. Maybe if you. Yeah, it's okay. You go ahead. Thanks. I'll keep in touch. If I get anything. I'll get you right away. Good. These people, you'll have a hard time getting anything out of them, Danny. Who kills, who murders? It's a secret they keep to themselves. For their own. They have to keep on good terms with death. Yeah. So long, Danny. After Johnny Parotta left, there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and watch the small island of light in the room define itself against the darkness bleeding in from the streets. Then the siren. And the men from police headquarters. Whose job it was to measure time and method of death. And later, the two men with a basket. They were skilled workers. They didn't need me. The tenements on 99th street were special only by the special arrangements of garbage cans at the curb. But the dogs that sniffed at them had the universal quality of hunger. Red eyed and ribbed, they moved slowly. The people sitting on the steps gave this moment of their lives to complete the pattern of quiet despair. They watched their kids wink at each other and slink into alleys. One of the watchers at number 8812 could speak English. Senor, My name's Danny Clover. Si. From the police. I'm contuarious from this place here. Inso. There's some questions, Mr. Contwarius, sir. Questions? Por favor? What questions? A boy that lived at this address. Emilio Ramirez. Emilio? And so? He's dead. He died a little while ago. Did you see? Senor, I heard what you said. Emilio is dead. I want you to tell me what you can about him. Worthy Muerte. Ok. Emilio. Emilio Ramirez. Muerte. Muerte. It's important that you tell me what you can of Emilio is of all of us. From Puerto Rico on a plain to here is what of Emilio? I'll need to know more than that. What more? What is there more? How long have you known him? A year. That long? I think. He live with the six of us Others in the two rooms. Hidalgo, Pablo Quesada, Bianco, Flores and myself. What else? Sometimes we eat together. Sometimes we talk together. Sometimes we drink together. The others who lived with you, would they know more? No, senor, I doubt. What can we know of each other? To eat and drink. As I say. More time than that we must spend looking for what we came here to look for. You said Emilio came here by plane. See? Like all of us. For $40. That was arranged by the travel bureau. By Senor Clark. You know Senor? No. What? In the barrio. Senor Clark arranges everything. Hey, Senor Clark. Understand what I'm saying to you? Martinez? Si, si. I don't think so. But you will soon enough. It's a job. Busboy, dishwasher, whatever they tell you to do. Take this slip of paper. Don't lose it. I've written my name on it. That's all you'll need. Si, Si, senor. Comprendo. Nothing else. Martinez. Gracias. Gracias, Senor Clark. Muchis gracias. Sometimes they forget a little thing like a thank you. Now you. You're next. I'm from the police. Oh. Why do you police come to me so often? Maybe because you arrange things. Remember? Look around you. Look at them. Sitting there silent, waiting for a job, for a letter from home, for something they can't even express. I'd be less than nothing if I didn't do what I could for them. Wouldn't I, Mr. Your name? Clover. Wouldn't I, Mr. Clover? You do well. Travel bureau, job placement. What else? Everything. They pay me to fly them up from Puerto Rico. That gives me a responsibility because they've made me rich. Why they come here? What'd you do for a boy named Emilio Ramirez. Ramirez? Emilio. I'll have to look it up. There are so many. Look it up. Of course. Here we are. Hmm. Seems I did a good deal. Like what? My agents arranged his passage in Puerto Rico. When he arrived, I found him a place to live. In two weeks he came to be hungry. I arranged a place for him on the relief roads. It's all down here on the file, Mr. Clover. You didn't get him a job? I'm afraid Emilio wasn't fitted for much, not in our civilization. But I found a place for him. Where? The Casa of Lady Luck. The gambling joint? You could call it that. A sense. It's a place where they make love potions, success pills, miraculous powders, things like that. They flourish here in the barrio. Nights like this. Can we join? Where is it? On 96, where the railroad tracks come out into the open. Ask anyone in the barrio. They'll direct you. Now, may I ask a question of you? Go ahead. Your interest in Emilio Ramirez. Why? He's been murdered. Oh, you'll understand why I Show no grief, Mr. Clover. No, but tell me anyway. Isn't the parent the barrio? So often they don't know how to deal with things, so they murder. It's a child's way, isn't it, Mr. Clover? You wouldn't know about Emilio's dying, the girl? A bad debt, a sudden passion to kill. He was knifed. Yeah. And typical. Typical. And now, if you'll permit me, a glance at my calendar shows that at 9 o' clock I have an appointment at my barber. I must tell these people I'll have to wait or come back tomorrow. You'll permit me. It was a few minutes after nine when I reached out for the door into the Casa of Lady Luck. What stopped me was a sign that said closed. Start off tomorrow with luck. Come back then to my desk at headquarters. I knew it was going to be tough. Puerto Ricans, citizens, but a strange people with a strange tongue. Shy and afraid of authority. With silence their only defense against the disappointments of having paid $40 for a new life. Johnny Parada said it. The sudden death among them was something they wanted to own themselves. As a policeman, I was an intruder. Or as Sergeant Tartaglia broke it to me. You're a stranger here, Danny. I am. Yeah, I know. I got the reports, but you could have called in. Can we go out for supper now? What did the reports say? Nothing. The reports were blank sheets of paper. Or just that the boy's name was Emilio Ramirez. That he died from a knife wound, that the weapon was a switch knife. You know, press a button, blade comes out, follow up. Nothing except that the boy has never been in trouble before. Was on relief at one time or another, but seemed to be anxious to secure a position. Anything else? Yeah. Danny, the phone's ringing. Oh, it really is. Danny Clover speaking. Danny, Johnny Parotta. What do you got, Johnny? I'm not sure, but something maybe. Like what? I'm gonna need some help. Can you get down here? 101st and Park Avenue right away? Make it right away, Danny. Maybe we can wrap this whole. No, no, no. Thank you. You're waiting for someone, senor? It's nice evening to wait for someone. It's such an evening for the wine, for the m. It took time to piece it all together. The turn of the head from the man leering over my shoulder. The sudden swift cry of terror, the body flung from the car. The darts of flame from the machine gun thrust out of the car's window at the huddled shape. I ran over to him, to Johnny Perotta. The bullets had torn a frantic design in his body, left it lifeless. When I looked up, the people the sounds had fled. There was only the emptiness, silence, the street of the barrio. Podbean, your message amplified. Ready to share your message with the world? Start your podcast journey with Podbean. Podbean, the AI powered all in one podcast platform. Thousands of businesses and enterprises trust Podbean to launch their podcasts. Use Podbean to record your podcast. Use PodBean AI to optimize your podcast. Use PodBean AI to turn your blog into a podcast. Use Podbean to distribute your podcast everywhere. Launch your podcast on Podbean today. The Strait of the Long Darkness. To make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious Wrigley Spearmint chewing Gum. The lively, full bodied, real mint flavor cools your mouth, moistens your throat, freshens your taste. And the chewing itself gives you a little lift, helps you keep going at your best. So for real chewing enjoyment that's refreshing and long lasting, always keep Wrigley Spearman chewing gum handy. Healthful, delicious Wrigley Spearmint gum will make every day more enjoyable. We now continue with Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. In the heat of July, Broadway is a shimmering mirage. It's the time of the big wish. The Catskills and Coney are the dreamlands. At the cooler end of the thermometer and Jones beach and Rockaway stand just over the horizon and beckon. And you linger under the marquee of the theater that's 20 degrees cooler inside. Or dawdle over the potato in your cold plate of borscht. Wonder what it was about the summer that you wished for. In December, everything sweats on Broadway. Even the newspaper turns moist in your hands. Murder in the barrio. Two of them. Emilio Ramirez and a cop named Johnny Parotta. There was another cop named Danny Clover who'd been nearby at both of them. Me. The next morning, I went back to Spanish Harlem. The death still hung heavy. Yes. Leaned close to Maria Parrada and whispered to her. Oh, it's you, Danny. Please come in. Thanks, Maria. There's nothing, Danny. Thank you. Nothing you can say or do. My husband's dead. Last night I gave him my tears. A touch of them will last a lifetime. Please. Please sit down. I just want to know. Please. There's only one thing to do now. Find out who murdered Johnny. Who threw him in the street to die. Did he tell you anything about yesterday? Where he was going? What he had to do? Yes. D Some matches are temporary, but your privacy shouldn't be. With line two, you get a second phone line. Just for dating. No need to share your personal number. Until you're ready, you can chat, text and even block numbers. All while keeping things fun and private. It's perfect for online dating. Blind dates or just keeping things light. When you're ready to move on, line two lets you cut ties without any drama. Dating should be fun and carefree. Line two keeps it that way. Ready to date on your terms. Visit line2.com audio or download line2 in the app Store. Today was a day like any other day. Kiss in the morning when he left, and the hours in between of waiting. Until John. Until Johnny. I'll get it. Where's Maria? Who are you? It's all right, Vincent. Mr. Clover's my friend. By what right? A friend? Johnny was. Mr. Clover is a policeman. Johnny's brother, Vincent. Hello. As a friend, we accept your condolences. A policeman? You're not welcome here, Vincent. Simply to explain myself, Maria. Simply to give Mr. Clove and myself a basis for talking. Don't you want to know who killed your brother? That's not an intelligent question. I got one thing to ask you, Vincent. As a policeman. What about Johnny? Did you see him yesterday? Talk to him once? Toward evening. Was in a hurry on some foolish police business. To the castle of lady Luck. Oh, now I ask one Thing of you since you come as a policeman. Get out. Leave us alone. Maria detached herself from us, moved silently about the room, pulled down the shades, cut off the flow of dust, heavy sunlight. Then suddenly there was a black shawl on her head, the rosary beads in her hand. She knelt before an image of the Virgin Mary with bleeding heart. Vincent moved quickly to her side, knelt too. There was silence. There was the click of the beads. And I left them. It had been closed the night before. Now a loudspeaker hung over its doorway, beating out the violent promise, the fury dreams for sale to the people of the barrio. Cus of Lady Luck. The guilt splattered sign said Love, success, Power. All yours. It said. Consult model Madam Lulama. Wallpaper hanging in strips on the walls of the Casa of Lady Luck was pinned back of photographs of lady movie stars. On the counter were bottles and vials and paper boxes labeled with their mysterious potency and the price for each. Reigning over all of it was Madame Lulama, blond hair in curlers and smoking a cigar. Go ahead, chum, look around for yourself. I'm sure there'll be something even you oughta have. I don't think so. None of us is complete. Jump. None of us has got every little thing that's gonna make us happy. Happy. So go ahead and look around. And this mess is a potter just for you. I'm from the police. Yeah, well, you'll need something special. Hey, Thomas. Thomas. Bring in a bottle of that stuff we got him this morning. We got ourselves a policeman. Told you not to bother. No bother, honey. Tomas likes doing little things for me, don't you, Tomas? Thanks, Tomas. You're a good, good man. Here you are, chum. Now with this little. You have another boy working for you. Emilio Ramirez. Tell me about him. Slowly. Tomas. I'll take care of. You asked me about Emilio. Okay. I'm glad you did. He's dead. Outside of that, what do you have to know, chum? Why he's dead? Who wanted him dead? No sabe. That's right, Ch. We don't know, do we? All we know is Emilio was a good, good man. Like Tomas. Here. Help me. But Tomas, don't get killed. We like it like that, not to get killed. You were told to keep your mouth shut about Emilio. Maybe. But don't ask us who, because no savvy. Like it said, many smart things are said in the barrio. Jump. Johnny Prada was here last night. Why? Like you, questions don't buy nothing. He kept us from clothes for a while and blew Away. Maybe he should have bought something like a life pill, huh? Nuts. My cigars out again. You got a light, chum? No. Give me a light. Hi, Danny. Hot, huh? Yeah, hot, I tell you. Well, then why don't you turn on the fan? Yeah, the cooling breezes to fan your feverish brow. What do you got? These, Danny? Paraphernalia from Johnny Parotta's effects. Maybe you can break through the heat and glom onto something from them. Let's see. Regular identification. Uh huh. Among other things. This. Yeah? Yeah. Tantalized me too. A list of 27 names. I counted. All of them Spanish sounding. Puerto Ricans, huh? Probably. Here's one, underlined. Name of Pedro Mero. I already done it. Danny sent out a pickup for all of them. You're getting better, Gino. And this, which I figure is nothing. A page from a desk calendar. Yeah. And on the back written, Emilio Ramirez. Arrived New York from San Juan, May 26, 1949. That's John. I checked that too. I don't want to overwhelm you, Danny. I just want you to know I checked. On the back of a page torn from a desk calendar. Whose? That I haven't been able to detect. Just that there's a notation against 9pm on the calendar that there was a barber's appointment at that time. Now all we have to do is know who got shaved at 9pm you know something, Gino? Huh? I know who got shaved at 9pm Open up. Open up. Close. In the middle of the day, Close. Leave it like it is. Open. Where's Roy Clark? Not the end of close. Roy Clark. Your work for him? Work? Your boss, where is he? Here? No, no, not here. Someplace. Maybe he's here. We'll look, huh? No, no, no. Look. Not for me. Well, look, anyway, your police is bad to let you in. It's all right. I'm from the police. What's your name? Juan. Please, senor, I know nothing. You can help me, Juan. Last night were you here? See? Last night you knew Johnny Parotta. See? Everybody know Johnny. He was here last night talking to Clark. No, Johnny, not here. Don't lie to the police, Juan. What happened between Clark and Johnny? I swear. I swear. Johnny not here last night. This page torn from a calendar one. It's from the calendar Clark has on his desk, isn't it? No, sir. No, sir. Listen, Juan, you clean his desk every day. It's his, isn't it? Clark's? Please, please. I do not know what happened between them. Tell me about it. Tell me, Johnny. Complained after you. I saw them from back room there. He and Shell clacked. Talk. Johnny writes something on page from calendar. There is anger between them. Johnny goes. That is all I know. Police. That is all I know. Back room, huh? What's in it? You cannot go in there. You cannot open it. No. No, no. No. Give me the key. Give it to me. No. The room had been torn apart like someone hated it. Torn it into little pieces. It had been done in a kind of mechanized fury. Legs ripped from tables and chairs. Wooden files ripped from walls. And on the floor, a litter of colored paper. I picked one of them up. A paper with numbers on it. And another. All of them lottery slips. And out of the crazy pattern was an answer. Clark ran the burial lottery from this room. Yes. They came. They smash everything. They no drug till he bleeded. Then he took him away. Who? I will not tell you where the take. They hate me. They make me swear by my mother. I will not tell. But I tell you. I tell you. To a basement. Empty house on corner 180. You will not tell. A door. Fold your hands behind your neck. Do it. Do it. My authority. This knife at your back. I made a big mistake, Vincent. I didn't figure you killed your brother. Walk through the door. One of our lookouts saw you approach. Open the door. Down those steps. What do you think of it, Mr. Clover? What there was to think about was a tension, an emotion etched against the peeling, whitewashed walls. Men of the barrio sitting on orange crates, leaning against the rotting timbers. Their attitude filled with the terrible silence of men who could pass down death. And in the center of the circle they shaped directly beneath a light bulb strung from the ceiling, a man. A man who held all of terror in his pleading hands. His name was Roy Clark. Help me. Help me. Help me. You know what this is, Mr. Clover? Yeah. A kangaroo court. Precisely. Now you'll understand why I didn't want a placement to bother Marie. We handle such matters in our own way. There are enough killings, Vincent. Just one more. We can hold you for murder. I know you're a policeman. You have a gun. Get me out of here. You make a move, Mr. Clover, this knife will find you hard. You're crazy. I don't know what you're doing. We know. Putting man on trial. Miro, come here. Take my knife. Miro. Hold it on, Mr. Clover. If he moves. You people. You people. I've helped you. I'm your friend. Weep. Weep, Senor Clark. Weep the tears you never shed for Emilio and for my brother. Listen to Me? Wait. Listen. We own our lives here in the barrio. Our jobs, our marriages, our pleasures. It gives you no right to own our dying. You're wrong. I was Johnny's friend. Emilio's too. It's wrong to do it like this. If you make a move, then Emilio will kill you. Miro, you won a great deal of money in the lottery. See, you never got it. Let me explain how it works. Emilio was your runner, so you kill him. So no money would have to be paid out. So the winner of the lottery would never know from whom to collect. No. No, it wasn't. And Johnny Parada, my brother, murdered him because he knew all this. Friends. Muerte. You have to die. Senor. No. No. See, I beg you. I beg you. Walk, senor. Walk to the door and look at the outside. Look at freedom. What? There was no need for that, Vincent. Johnny's gone. Mr. Clover, you may take it. Clock would have died anyhow. The law would have seen to it. Perhaps. I took no chances. Now. I'll go with you, Mr. Clover. Twilight touches Broadway now. It's the hour of going home, the subway hour of the tired faces. The time of the blue plate special. But soon as the instant when a man will dart from a doorway, beckon over his shoulder to another, then the mob will gather and scream its heart out at the night. It's Broadway. The gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway, My beat. Remember, friends, to make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum. There's lots of cooling, real mint flavor in every stick. And chewing Wrigley Spearmint helps keep you feeling fresh and alert. You feel better, work better. Get more fun out of doing things. So indoors, outdoors, wherever you go, keep some healthful, refreshing Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum handy to make every day more enjoyable. Treat yourself often to delicious Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum. The makers of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum hope you've enjoyed tonight's story and that you're enjoying Wrigley Spearmint Gum every day. We invite you to join us next week at the same time when Detective Danny Clover returns again with Broadway's My Beat. Broadway's My Beat, Brought to you by Wrigley Spearmint Gum is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis, with music composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. The program is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover, with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia. Included in tonight's cast were Sarah Selby, Francis Chaney, Lou Merrow, Jack Crucian, Herb Butterfield and Anthony Barrett. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System.