← The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
Broadway's My Beat: The Marcia Dean Murder Case (EP4667)
00:41:49
Today's Mystery: A bank teller confesses to stealing $20,000 to secure the release of his kidnapped wife. Original Radio Broadcast Date: May 12, 1950 Originating from Hollywood Starring: Larry Thor as Lieutenant Danny Clover; Charles Calvert as...
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- [00:29]
Adam Graham
Welcome to the great detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we're going to bring you this week's episode of Broadway's My Bait. But first, I do want to encourage you, if you're enjoying the podcast, to follow us using your favorite podcast software. And I also want to let you know about Fulton Fish Market. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have the freshest, highest quality seafood delivered straight to your kitchen? Look no further than FultonFishMarket.com, a legendary name in seafood trusted for over 200 years. This isn't just a market. It's where expert fishmongers meticulously select seafood that top chefs and home cooks alike rave about. Whether you're craving wild caught salmon, tender scallops, or juicy shrimp, Fulton Fish Market guarantees peak freshness with every order. Now, here's the best part for my listeners. You can enjoy 17% off your entire order just by using the code box13 at checkout. That's not just a discount, it's the highest one they offer. And yes, when you use the code, I earn a commission, which helps the podcast. So you're not only getting amazing seafood, you're also supporting the show. Head over to FultonFishMarket.com and taste the difference that 200 years of expertise brings. Trust me, once you try it, you'll never go back to your ordinary seafood again. Use code box13today and get ready to impress everyone at your table. Now, from May 12, 1950, here is the Marsha Dean murder case.
- [02:28]
Larry Thor
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. The sun that drifts into police headquarters has a different texture to it. That's because it touches concrete and iron grill work before it finally breaks through the dust in the windows. That's why I supplement it with my own personal sunshine. His name is Sergeant Titaglia, and he never knocks, even on Thursday. And sometimes he brings company. This man's name is Harry Dean. Danny. Close the door, Titaglia. Okay, okay, you can stay. Just close the door. Sit down, Mr. Dean. Over there. Thank you. You're the man I want to see. Well, that all depends. What's on your mind? I'm 46 years old, Mr. Clover. In four months, I'll be 47. In August, I live at 903 Hillcrest Road in Queens. All right, Once, when I was six and a half, I stole a Peppermint stick. I got caught. Well, I mean, I gave myself up to my mother. Hey, Danny. What is it? Go on, Mr. Dana, I wanted to draw parallels. Two days ago I stole $20,000. And you're giving yourself up to me. Well, it was for my wife. You understand that, don't you? Just that you stole $20,000, that's all. Here's Marcia's photograph. That's my wife's photograph. Yes. She's going on 42. No, she is going on 43 now. Not very attractive anymore. I know that she looks like what she is after 20 years of me. Bank teller. You stole the money from the bank? Well, I stole $20,000 from the Charles Street national bank where I worked because I was told I could have Marcia back for that amount of money. Are you trying to tell me that Marcia was kidnapped? Yeah. Don't you see? All right, go on. Well, I came home yesterday and Marcia wasn't there. About 9 o'clock I got a phone call. A man said Marcia wouldn't be heard if I brought the money. Then he put Marcia on the phone. And she was being brave, I know, but I can see. I could tell she was frightened. Terrified. She pleaded with me. Whenever you can talk, Mr. Dean, I can talk. Man has a right to feel about his wife. The man said, bring the money. Go to that summer resort, Far Rockaway. Register at the Idle Wild Arms. Put the money in the bottom bureau drawer and leave. But I did it. And they lied to me. Marcia hasn't come home. They've done some Tartaglia. Yeah. Danny? Nothing to the newspapers about this. I'll get this picture, Mrs. Dean, and the wires, and then go up to Far Rockaway. Okay, Danny. What happens to me, Mr. Clover? What you expected? You go to jail. There was no protest in him as Tartaglia led him away. Only a tired, empty dejection that had stamped its shape on his body stained his eyes with the color of despair. When the room was empty of him, a question remained. Why had it been done to an ordinary man, an ordinary bank clerk? The answer was ordinary. The man was in a place where money flowed and teased the right pressure. And for as long as was needed, the flow could be diverted. A loved woman can be that pressure, even for an ordinary man like Harry Dean. At Far Rockaway, the beach is littered with the debris of those who have escaped for a day, for a weekend. The surf washes against the feet of a child and the child screams. The mocking sun touches a woman's shoulders and the woman giggles. The man lying buried in the sand next to her twinkles his toes. And strung behind them like a munch rented backdrop is a string of leering resort hotels with screen porches and empty rockers. The idyll Wild Arms was one of these. Glory hallelujah. A guest. Give me room, boy. I've got a welcoming speech for you. Just a minute. Don't interrupt, boy. It's the off season and I gotta rehearse it on somebody. And you're just as good a guinea pig as anybody, aren't you, boy? Look, you're interrupting, boy. I'm gonna have trouble with you. You may at that, kid. I'm from the police. See? Idle wild arms welcomes you with open arms. And I promise you ain't gonna be idle, but you might be wild. Did I hear you, boy? You're from the police. It finally penetrated, huh, Don? Look, boy, I got nothing to do with this crumb joint. They hire me to spread sunshine and desk clerk for a lousy sobuck a week with meals. Meals? Harry Dean. What did you do for him? Wiped the nose as a brat. What? Harry Dean? I did nothing for him except show him to his room. He didn't react to my jollity, so I fluffed him. Which room? 6A. I guess it nauseated him because an hour later he checked out. That I had to do too. Check out the crumble mouth. Where is it? The room? I told you, outside. Oh, you. You mean. You mean 6A. Right down the hall, boy. It says Harry Dean. You want. Not me, huh? Not you. For a minute there, you had me on my knees. Don't let me keep you, boy. I gotta rehearse my act. Glory hallelujah. 5A. 6A. Oh, yeah. What are you doing in my room? Get out. Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this room was unoccupied. If I. Are you part of the recreation program? Get out before I call for help. I'm from the police. I want to search this room. Oh, this can't stop you then. No. That bureau. Do you have your things in it? Not yet. Only just got in a little while ago. Haven't had time to unpack. What's in there? A mouse? A time bomb? Maybe money. Maybe $20,000 worth of money. 20,000? I wish I'd known. I could have got to it first. Nothing you say? You've been here only a little while? Just long enough to open a window and get a whiff of ocean air. Maybe an hour or two. Did I do wrong? Who are you? What's your Name? Edith Keller. I'm a stenographer. Got two weeks vacation, so I came here for peace and quiet. So far it's not quiet. Take a look at this picture. Ms. Keller, have you ever seen this woman? Yeah, I saw her. She did just what you did. I barely got my body into the room. There was a knock on the door. This woman. This woman here says she left something in the bureau, bottom drawer. She took it out. Wish I'd known. 20,000. Was there anyone with her? Yeah, man. He stayed in the hall. I didn't get a look at him, just heard his voice. Gee, gosh, I know, Ms. Keller. $20,000. She smiled at me. It was the kind of a smile that had regret in it. So I returned in kind. Then she looked toward the door, so I left. On the ride back to Manhattan, I jotted it all down in my mind. It was simple. Marsha Dean was never kidnapped. Marsha Dean had made a thief out of her husband. Marsha Dean, 42 going on 43, had run away with another man. The money her husband had stolen would finance the production event. Starting all over again. Back to routine. Find out about Marsha Dean. Climb concrete steps, ring doorbells and call Marsha Dean's neighbors. I know you. You're a policeman. I am? If you're not, you just stole a police car. Come on in. Thanks. This won't take long. Mrs. Mrs. Graham. This way. In the parlor. That's the Mr. Sitting there in the rocker behind the newspaper. Graham. Graham, this is a policeman come to call. What's your name, Mr. Clover. Danny Clover. Graham, his name is Danny Clover. Once Graham saw a picture in a magazine. Picture of a man in a rocking chair who was retiring on $200 a month. Graham sent in the coupon. Now it's 15 years later. Graham sits in a rocking chair just like the picture. Don't you, Graham? Ms. Graham, I wonder if you can give me some information about a neighbor of yours. Comings and goings of a neighbor. I can give you comings and goings of three houses on either side of me. On this side of the block, across the street. Further down than that. I see. I stand at that window on a snoop. Oh, don't look down your nose, that mister. Some people stand at the bar and drink their pleasure. I snoop mine. When was the last time you saw your Next door neighbor, Mrs. Dean? Yesterday. Wednesday. What time was that? When she got into the cab. What time? About three, I'd say. It was about that. What kind of a cab was it, Ms. Graham? Yellow cab. I think. Wasn't it Graham? I said wasn't a yellow cab. See, mister, I told you it was a yellow cab. It didn't take long. At the cab company, a girl with rimless glasses and green eye shade was courteous, efficient and bored. She pulled the driver's route reports out of a steel file, checked them with me and found the one that matched. At 3:12pm Wednesday, Hackie Stan Holdeck had picked up a fair at 9O3 Hillcrest Road in Queens. If I wanted to talk to Stan about it, the girl said she was sorry. There was no way of reaching him. He'd report in at 10 o'clock. If I cared, I could wait till then. I cared. At 10 5, a cab rolled into the garage. It was Stan. She told me. I went over to it. Oh, the things your body will take just so they can eat. You have that trouble, Mac? Continually. The girl in the office told me you were Stan Hodek. That girl is always right. It's like an affliction with her. What's the matter, pal? Did you lose something in a cab? You think it's mine? Oh, nothing like that, Stan. I'm Danny Clover, Police Department. Oh. Somebody made a complaint because I questioned the good name of his family. I do this many times a day. On Wednesday, you picked up a fair stand in Queens. I want you to tell me about it. Wednesday. Yesterday's a long time ago. In Queens. That's a long place. 903 Hillcrest Road at 3:12 in the afternoon. Try to remember, Stan. Okay, I'll try. Queens. Hillcrest Road, Wednesday. Give me a hint, Mr. Clover. A man or a woman? A woman. Well, that makes it easier because it's easier to remember a woman. Yeah, yeah. Now I remember. What about her? I've got a photograph here. Was it this woman? Let's see. Yeah, yeah, I remember because this age type woman is easy to forget. How did you happen to go there? Did she call you? No, no. A guy hailed me from the street. What guy? Who knows some guy out of a crowd. Told me to go to Queens to that address, pick up a lady and take her to where he'd be waiting for. Where was that? On a corner in Brooklyn. I remember because all that was on that corner was an empty lot. Lousy meeting place. Will you take me there now? I don't know. I just finished a day's work. You'll have to clear it with Ms. Righteous in the office and we'll clear it. Let's go, stan. Right here, Mr. Clover. Here's where I left her off. Let's get out. You're sure it was right here, huh? Sure, I'm sure. I ought to know this billboard here was. You didn't see anyone pick her up? Will you tie my shoelace, mister? Hello, little girl. I fell down back there because my shoelace is untied. Here. And put your foot up on my knee, honey. Thanks. Aren't you out pretty late? No. Do you stay out this late every night? Oh, no. Tonight I'm big. Tonight I'm a big girl. There. There you are. Thanks. I've even got a big girl's pocketbook. Your mother should know you've got her suede pocketbook. Oh, it's not my mother's. I found it right over. Give me back my pocketbook. Hold on one minute. Where did you find it? Come on, I'll show you. You recognize this purse, Tam? I don't know. I didn't take notice. Right over here on the field over there, near those tin cans. Stay here. Stan with the girl. Find anything? I found something. Marsha Dean, you are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. When Dan Seymour starts putting in those phone calls from coast to coast on Sing It Again this Saturday night, there'll be $55,000 in prizes and cash riding on the calls. Here's Sing It Again this Saturday and every Saturday on most of these same CBS stations. When the promise of summer touches Broadway, Broadway dons its Hawaiian shirt and stands on street corners to discuss batting averages, the men from Mars, the rise to fame and fortune of Hopalong how much it costs to dress the kids because this happy character is so famous. And then the real tidbit. Murder. All the other conversation was just an appetizer. How a policeman found a woman lying dead in a vacant lot. Lying under a shroud of tin cans, her funeral bouquet. A clump of weeds. That was something to talk about. And her husband, a bank clerk. Poor guy. Stealing the bank's money to ransom her life. And all the time she was there in the vacant lot. A lunch hour isn't long enough to discuss things like that. But at police headquarters, there's time. There's a cold, dank room that contains within itself all the time in the world. The morgue. Here he is. Danny. Oh, why did you have me brought here, Mr. Clover? I know she's dead. I know. Do I have to? I know what you must feel, Mr. Dean. This is something that has to be done. You understand that Mr. Dean. You'll be all right. Yes. Yes, Mr. Clover. Patrol McKenney. Yeah. Was this your wife, Mr. Dean? Marshall. Marshall. Marcia. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the bad times, all the hard years. Forgive me, Martin. Mr. Dean. Mr. Dean? What do you want? When we brought the cab driver Stan Hodek, to your cell this morning, he said he'd never seen you before. Yeah. Had you ever seen him loitering around the house or the bank? Oh, no, no, no, no. Please, please. Ask me questions another time. Hodak's voice. Did you recognize it? Could it have been the one who made the kidnapped phone calls?
- [19:41]
Adam Graham
No.
- [19:41]
Larry Thor
I don't know. How could I remember a voice? Can other people do that? Remember the sound of. Maybe it was his. I don't know. Patrol. Mechanic. Yeah. Marsh. Marsha. Kenny, watch it. He's got your gun, Mr. Dean. Give it back to me. Give it. I've waited for it. It's fine. Look, Mr. Dean, we'll find Marcia's killer. You can't take it on yourself. You'll have to kill us to get out of here. And then kill again. No. It's not you I've killed. No. This man here. I'm gonna kill myself. Myself. To end the grief and the pain in my head. No more pain. My turning to me. My God. Give it a big. It's okay now, Danny. He's out. Let him come out of it himself and take him to Dr. Sinski. Then lock him up. And thanks, Kenny. You were quick. Can I come in, Danny? Come in, Tadaglia. All right. Thanks. Now, here they are, Danny. Wear them in good health. Wear what in good health? Your shirts and your intimates, Tataglia. Your shirts and your intimates, Danny. A little plot Mrs. Tartaglia and I whipped up for you for Mother's Day. I heisted your laundry out of your locker and took it home. And Mrs. Tartaglia got together with her Bendix washer. Here is your laundry, Danny. As clean as clean can be. Thank Mrs. Dattaglia for me. I will, Danny. It gives her pleasure. And when you leave, tear down that note. I got it from the police board officer who borrowed laundry. Return it to Danny Clover, no questions asked. Wilco, Roger. And now that we've solved the problems of the domestic life of the police department, may we get down to work, Gino? Oh, indeed we may. Then do it. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, Danny. Now, in the matter of the cab driver, Stan Hodek to witness. We have had him sweating all morning over photographs from our rogues gallery in an Effort to identify the man who hailed his cab with directions to pick up the now deceased Mrs. Marcher. Dean. Anything? Nothing. Also, in the matter of Stan Hodek, we have checked his call sheet. Right after dropping Mrs. Dean, he picked up another fare a block away from the scene of the crime. Took said fare to the Roxy, thereby confirming Stan's story as far as time is concerned. All right, what else? In the matter of Harry Dean to whip. About 15 minutes ago, he was released on bail. Said bail being set at $10,000. Who put it up to Douglas? Oh, his sympathetic employers. The Charles Street National Bank. Yeah, I figured they would. Man works at one place for 20 odd years, works there faithfully, then suddenly he needs a lot of money to buy back his wife's life. His wife gets. Danny Clover speaking, Mugavan. Danny, I'm phoned from the call box at 45th and Broadway. What's up, Mugavin? Stan Hodak, the cab driver. Yeah, he's in the middle of the street there and he's been shot to death. Danny. Danny, over here. Here I am. Runners up to traffic, don't it, Danny? A sideshow like this, not every day is spectacular. Give those words the newspapers mug of and they'll love you for it. Danny. Oh, sorry. Okay. I said I'm sorry. Now, briefly, like this, Danny. From eyewitness accounts, each one with personal variations. Because the eyewitnesses are personal problems. But essentially they come out the same. All right, Mugaban. After a little prodding, they all agree on this. Hodak's cab came to a stop for a red light. Man got out, got lost in the crowd, the light changed, the cab didn't move. Unusual for a cab. Or maybe not unusual. Depends how you feel about cabs. The cab still didn't move. All the traffic behind it was tied up and screaming. Finally, some brave guy got out to argue with Hodek. No argument. Hodek was dead. You saw him, Dan? Yeah. Bullet hole the back of his head. A new way to pay a cab fare. Denny, the man who got out, could any of these eyewitnesses identify him? I asked him that, Danny. They laughed in my face. Who bothers a scrutiny? Nice a guy gets out of a cab. Danny. Oh, Danny, can I see you for a minute? Hello, Dr. Sinski. This. This thing, Danny, this murder of the woman, Marsha Dean. May I inquire as to your progress? What makes you so interested, Doctor? Oh, it disturbs me. A person like Mrs. Dean who only saw her name in print in a telephone book. Should we've made Some progress. Oh, I'm glad. I'm not a vindictive man, Danny, but whoever did this thing. I know what you mean. Oh, Danny, I got here the autopsy reporter, Marshall Dean. Tell it to me that she was shot with a.32 caliber pistol. You already know she died instantly. The bullet, entering the sternum at close range, pierced her heart. When found, she had been dead approximately 30 hours. Huh. One hour more or less, Danny. But 30 hours is a fair approximation. And it makes a liar out of a person I talked to in Rockaway. Forgive me, Danny. I don't understand. A stenographer on vacation, Doctor. A girl who said her name was Edith Keller. I saw her Yesterday afternoon when Mrs. Dean had already been dead for a day. Edith Keller said she'd just seen Mrs. Dean. So? So what, Danny? So Marcia Dean never left Brooklyn. She was never in Rockaway. The beach fire smoldered along the stretch of east far Rockaway. And clinging to their fringe of light and warmth, the shadows huddled and protested with small squeals of delight. There was background music, too. The portable radios, the rhythmic thumping of an out of tune piano. Courtesy the idle wild arms. The lobby was decked with a desperate gaiety. Under torn Japanese lanterns, two people sitting alone on a wicker sofa was Edith Keller. I went up to her. Are you gonna ask me to dance? I'll dance, Ms. Keller. Oh, I remember you. You're the detective. It's not against the law to ask a girl to dance, is it? I want to talk to you, Ms. Keller. All right, we'll talk then. It's just as good. Watching the dancers and the fun. I was getting lonesome. Please, sit down. Not here. Somewhere quiet. But your room. We'll talk there now, Ms. Keller. All right. See, I did what you said. But we haven't anything to talk about. Not like this. A bank tellerita. Let's discuss him. Beethoven. I don't know anything. No, you didn't know him, Edith. You just knew that tellers handle money. You knew there was a way to get that money. I think you must be crazy or something. You and someone else kidnap his wife, make him bring the ransom here to this hotel. Put it in the bottom drawer of the bureau. You got that money, didn't you, Edith? You're wrong. I told you that woman got it. The woman whose picture you showed me. I told you that. You lied. Marshall Dean was never here because she was dead in a vacant lot in Brooklyn. You and whoever you worked with got her to go to that lot, then murdered her. Who are you? Working with Edith. Please, I. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't. Who is it, Edith? It could be easier maybe, if you told me who. Was it that. No. Someone knocked. Edith. Open the door. Open it, darling. Harry. Go away. Go away. Come on in, Harry. Close the door. All right. I'm in nowhere. If you want to grieve some more about your wife, Harry, I'll watch. Oh, don't worry about it. Not me. You. You killed your wife, Harry, and made it look like kidnappers did it. The ransom money you pocketed for Edith here. Touching. She's worth killing twice. Folklore. If you knew her like I did, you'd know that after being married for 23 years, a man misses what he can only read about, Harry. You'd understand that. Clover. Killing the cab driver had to be done. You brought him into my cell to see if he'd recognize me. Of course he recognized. Why didn't he say he knew you? He got too clever. He caught on to what was happening. He wanted money. He said, let's go for a ride in my cab and talk about money. So I shot. An appetite like his was no good for Edith and me. Hey, let's go, Harry. Well, then you know why I can't go with you. Two killings. Three. Harry. No. No more killing, Harry. He's got to die. He's got to die. Hey, doctor. Gee, I didn't mean to shoot. Edith. Edith. Edith. Edith. E. Don't die. Don't die, please. Please. Now listen to me, Edith. Don't die. Don't die. Didn't mean. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Either. Kill me. Kill me. Kill. In May, the twilight sighs down on Broadway like a rosy promise. You walk toward it then someone smiles and takes your hand whispers to close your eyes and your head gets banged against wall. The lights are bright, the noise is loud, and your scream mixes well with the shriek of the night. It's Broadway. The gaudiest, most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My Be foreign stars Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover, with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. The musical score was composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. Included in the night's cast were Jack Crucian, Howard McNear, Joseph Grandy, Virginia Gregg, Hal March and Marley names. Prejudice can easily be the wedge which splits a nation's unity. And in these days of world disunity, America must remain a symbol of democratic strength. Watch closely for words of prejudice and stamp them out only by individual alertness. Can our nation safeguard itself against this disease which strikes from within, Accept or reject people on their individual worth? Joe Walters speaking. This is cbs, where the Goldbergs are every Saturday night. The Columbia Broadcasting System.
- [32:00]
Adam Graham
Welcome back. While one of the more clever murder schemes we've heard so far, it's probably only undermined by the mistress trying to set up the wife as being in cahoots with the kidnapper and saying she made an appearance after she was dead. It does make me wonder whether that detail was something that Harry came up with so that he'd get maximum sympathy and his wife would look terrible. It wasn't enough to kill her, but he wanted to defame her memory. That's perhaps another level of height. I was pretty sure it would be Harry at the door at the end, but throughout most of the episode I wasn't exactly sure who did it. Harry Dean was so effective at pretending to be grieving that it was hard not to believe he was genuine, particularly after the scene in the morgue. It makes me wonder what would have happened if the officer had been rubbish at his job and failed to believably disarm him. The line at the start of the episode where Danny describes Tartaglia as his sunshine is really easy to gloss over, but it does confirm what we were talking about not too long ago about Tartaglia bringing balance to Danny and the way he is so dour. Dany is, and I think it's safe to say someone who takes a lot of what goes on to heart and being on the force is stressful enough already. So Tartaglia's presence is vital. The Sergeant Tartaglias of the world are the unsung heroes of so many workplaces that are very stressful throughout the world. Although it would be nice for him to ask before breaking into Danny's locker as not to cause problems or alarm. But nobody is perfect. The neighborhood snoop was great and she was right to call out Danny even looking at her funny. Just like in Dragnet, the neighborhood snoop is a vital resource for the police force because they witness everything. But the police also have a sense that this behavior is not healthy. And when you watch the Dragnet TV show in particular, you can often see the eye rolls and pick up hints that they do not really like these people. But to paraphrase a famous movie, you want them at that window, you need them at that window. Also, this episode may have had one of the most hilarious doubles I've spotted. With the Snoops husband, it was Howard McNear. But unless you've heard as much McNear as I have and are listening carefully. You won't guess who's just kind of mumbling incoherently. Hey, Howard, in addition to playing the murderer, could you just give us a little bit of incoherent mumbling? That would be great. The little girl asking Danny to tie her shoes was something that surprised me. I'm not certain if this was typical in real life. Keep in mind Danny's not in uniform, so she has no way of knowing that Danny's a policeman. But she just comes up to this strange man and asks him to tie her shoes. Of course, I grew up in the 1980s in that whole era of stranger danger, and if I were ever separated from my parents, it would never occur to me to just ask some random stranger for help with something like that. A memory of a time I never experienced, I guess. Well, now we turn to listener comments and feedback. And we go to YouTube. We have a couple of comments on YouTube regarding the Elaine Hill murder case. Sandra writes, excellent. And Terry writes another enjoyable episode from this series. Thank you. Well, thank you so much. Mechanic6682 writes, I bet myself a million dollars Joe would be dead when Danny got there. Because that's what always happens when they don't just tell what they know. Fair point, though. I would say that this is not just a Broadway's My Beat sort of convention. It really does cross every line in the mystery genre. You'll find it in hard boiled detective stories. You'll find it in stories with Poirot and Nero Wolf. And the moment the witness says, I will meet you later or come to the hotel and I'll tell you everything I know, you know they're going to die. It's something that I find myself saying, no, don't do this, don't do this again. Or at least have the detective warn that there's a risk of them being killed before they can share the information. As the saying goes, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 150 times. Really shame on me. Then we have comments from our listener survey where Conrad fan writes, I've loved old time radio for about 20 years. The golden age of radio was fantastic. Well presented, classic stories, beautifully acted. Give me an episode that employed the wonderful act talents of the great William Conrad and I'm in radio heaven. Well, thank you so much. And I agree, Conrad is great. I wish we had more detective programs featuring him in the lead. We have an episode of Escape and then there was one episode of Philip Marlowe where he filled in for Marlo and I think the only other series that we played. If you love William Conrad, you definitely want to check out Nightbeat, which we played back in Season eight and which we'll soon be sharing as part of our Volume 3 feed at volume3.greatdetectives.net net he shows up in a lot of episodes and while he's not the lead, you really get a sense for the great man's reign. And of course on radio he's more famous for Gunsmoke, which you can catch over@otrwesterns.com Paul writes, I love old time radio shows. It takes me back to when I was a child at home. A listener in Lakewood, New Jersey writes, adam is awesome at what he does. His love for the genre shines through every time he opens his mouth, makes it a true joy to listen. And then we have a comment from Liz who says, I've really enjoyed discovering new shows and old time radio genres through this podcast. I recommend it to everyone I know. Really appreciate that. And then Terry writes, I was born in 1949 and enjoy listening to what my parents listened to at the time. Well, thank you so much. Appreciate you taking the time to fill out our listener survey. And now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. And I want to go ahead and thank Kelly. Kelly's been one of our Patreon supporters since June 2017, currently supporting the podcast at the Psalmist level of $4 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Kelly, and that will actually do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And if you're enjoying the podcast on YouTube, be sure to like the video, subscribe to the channel, and mark the notification bell. All those great things that help YouTube channels to grow. We'll be back next Wednesday with another episode of Broadway's My Beat, but join us back here tomorrow for Mr. And Mrs. Northware.
- [40:16]
Larry Thor
Well now, what's this about your suing me? Mr. North, recently some of my closest associates have, well, betrayed me. That's the only word for it. Well, sue them. But why me? That's just it. I may very well do that. And after all, if I stand up to my friends, you can't expect me to take something from a total stranger lying down, can you? Suppose you come to the point, Mr. North. My wife writes mystery stories. You have my sympathy. She sent one of them to you. The Mystery of the Missing Mink. Missing Mink? Oh yes, I vaguely remember it. You exactly remember it. You published it. I did. Only you called it. How dead can you get? I do remember that. But you don't mean to tell me that's your wife's story. It was stolen from her. She told me the plot of both stories. They're almost identical. She told you? After she read the one I published. Are you suggesting my wife's lying? Take it easy. You're suggesting I'm a plagiarist. So this isn't exactly a tea party. Just what is it you want? A settlement. And if I refuse?
- [41:24]
Adam Graham
I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to Box 13@Great Detectives.net follow us on Twitter @Radio Detectives, and check us out on Instagram. Instagram.com Great Detectives from Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham, son. And off.