Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the
gut of the prison of the grave. There's no other end, but they never learn. This one
began as a threat of a beating that turned into murder with a brown-eyed blonde, a jovial
hippopotamus and a tough ex-soldier of fortune, all complicating the problem until I got next
to the key man.
From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of Mystery, comes his most famous character
and crime's most deadly enemy as we present the Adventures of Philip Marlowe.
Now with Gerald Moore, star of Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The
Key Man.
Along about dusk, Hollywood Boulevard is some desolate place between the end of work and
the start of play, and about as boisterous as taps. So except for a shallow-faced masher
leaning against the nearby storefront warming up his evening leer, I was alone on a lot
of fancy pavement when I walked up to the box office of the Newsreel Theater near Cahuenga,
paid my 40 cents admission tax included and started inside, where of all places I was
to meet my new client, one Mark Hummel. He'd called my office at 6.35 and in a tight voice,
fringed with fear, urged me to find him in the last row, last seat, far left of the Boulevard
cinema at once, if I could use a $50 bill. It was exactly a quarter to seven when I crossed
the length of La Bida while four and entered the theater proper, which was almost empty.
It was two minutes after that before I could see well enough to tell that the man all alone
in the aforementioned seat, who wore white French cups protruding out of gray flannel,
a pleated frown and not paying any attention to the bathing beauties on the screen who
were water skiing through Florida's cypress gardens, had to be my client. I eased in and
sat down next to him. I could see he was watching me out of the corner of his eye.
Marlon?
Yeah.
My plane leaves for New York in half an hour.
Watch it, honey!
They ought to see that I'm on it and in good health.
Who wants it otherwise?
Barney Kovach, a next soldier of fortune who thinks with his fists. He works as store
boss in a garage where they park cars. He's threatening to kill me with his bare hand.
Why? What'd you do?
Nothing, nothing. It was perfectly legitimate. He had a chance to get out of Hipple Link's
place.
Get out of who's place?
Hipple Link.
Oh.
Kovach had a chance to buy a location of his own.
But you got there first. Look, Mr. Hummer, why don't we continue this in the lounge?
It's quieter out there.
Yes, but a few things.
Yeah, yeah. Come on.
Oh, this is better. Come on, we can talk over here.
So you beat Kovach out of the property he wanted. Then what happened?
And when he found out, he went crazy. He swore I bribed the real estate broker, high pressured
the owner, all that kind of wild talk, you know. Now, Marlow, the place I bought from
under him is a good investment. Oh, yes, yes. But chicken feed compared to the deal I'm
going to close in New York tomorrow. If I get there.
So for 50 bucks, I'm to see that you do just that, huh?
Yes, but I've already made your work easier. I told Hipple Link, all 300 pounds of him.
I told him in a loud voice this afternoon that I was going out of town by train at seven
tonight and figuring, of course, that Kovach, who's nearby, but wouldn't do anything with
people around, would overhear me.
And your connection with Hipple is what?
I parked my car in his garage, period. Anyhow, at five thirty tonight, I drove downtown to
the Union Station. I left my car in the lot there and went inside.
After which you doubled back, got outside into a cab and headed for here in a comfortable
wait until plane time, which you're afraid might not fool anybody, including the tough
Mr. Kovach since you hired me, right?
Yes, that's right. I never caught sight of him trailing me, Marlow, and frankly, well,
I'm afraid of him. Can you understand him?
Sure. Fear is always understandable. Well, what's the itinerary, Mr. Hummel, here to
the airport?
No, no, no, no. First to my house. I still have a bag to pack. I'll take a cab you follow
in your car, then wait outside my place. That's 4100 Fountain and just below La Cienega.
Yeah, I know.
Yes. When I get back into the cab, you follow again until I'm safe aboard the plane. Now
here is your money. Anything else?
Yeah. Do you carry a gun, Mr. Hummel?
Oh, nearly no. But tonight, Marlow, yes, it's a service gun, 45. And believe me, if I have
to use it, I will. Now let's get out of here quickly.
I was 20 minutes playing follow the leader up through Hollywood to Fountain Avenue as
far as the neat cube of stucco that was number 4100, where I parked behind the taxi lights
out and waited until I heard a frightened scream from what had to be Mar Hummel. I piled
out of my car and darted past the cabbie who said he had enough trouble in his life and
ran up the front steps and into the house wearing the light of a single overturned lamp of the
bedroom. I found my client face down in a widening pool of his own blood. I started
for the rest of the rooms, but then the sound of a motor roaring out of the alley behind
the house told me I was wasting my time. When I returned to the bedroom, one glance at Hummel's
still form said that the man who had been afraid for his life only 30 minutes ago was
already very dead. Next to his body was the 45 he never got to use. And alongside of that,
the miniature crystal ball splattered with blood, but it killed him. There was a key
which I found fit the front door lying in the middle of the carpet. The drawers and closets
were all open as well as his half-packed suitcase. It was a good time to call the police.
I'm inside, Detective Lieutenant Matthews speaking.
Hello, Lieutenant. I'm at 4100 Fountain and standing next to a man named Mark Hummel
used to be a client. He's dead, Matthews murdered.
Any idea who did it, Phil?
Well, I got an idea. It might be a lot of muscle call Bonnie Kovac who works in the
garage in Santa Monica Boulevard.
You sure it wasn't a robbery killing?
No.
I've had a lot of second storage jobs there about every three weeks in that neighborhood.
I'm not sure of anything yet, but you see I was high...
Oh, company Lieutenant. I'll catch up to you later.
Mark, I... Oh, I beg your pardon. Is Mr. Hummel in?
Yes and no. Did he expect you?
No, he didn't. Who are you?
Philip Marlow.
Well, is Mark in or not?
Yes, he's in. You'll find him in here if you insist.
Oh, thank you. I'm sorry I bit your head off, but what I have to... Oh no. He's dead?
Shot with that?
No, no. It's his own gun. He was beaten to death with that glass ball there.
That key is his too. It fits the front door. I already tried it and then I put it back
when I found it since the police appreciate neatness on the scene.
But that doesn't make sense. Mark always carried his keys in a leather case that should be right
there in his right pocket.
Yeah, yeah, you're right. House key with a bunch of others and, yeah, this one matches
the one on the floor. How'd you know about this?
Oh, I'm an old friend of Mark's, Marlow.
You'd have to be. Why are you in such a hurry to tell him?
I don't...
Maybe I can help you. Maybe it was a little message you were going to deliver from Barney
Kovac.
I don't know anyone by that name. And since that leaves us with very little in common,
Marlow, I think I'll leave with only this 45 here for companionship.
Oh, fine.
Now, get over there against the wall and turn your back. Well, go on.
Now what?
And don't move until you hear me drive away or your health will suddenly be very, very
poor. Good night.
My little red riding hood slammed out of the place. I knew I could either follow her or
wait for Matthews to siren up to the front door and then tell all.
One last look around the room, including the key in the middle of the carpet, made me change
my mind again. If the key could be traced, it might be a definite link to Kovac. So I
headed for Hippo Link's garage on Santa Monica Boulevard in the hope of further information
about a hot-tempered man who worked there.
Less than five minutes later, I was walking down a cement ramp that dropped in the street
level into an acre of underground parking space filled with a crowd of heavy with chromium
cars that belonged to the fashionable neighborhood nearby.
Hippo himself was a perspiring oval, approximately 5'8", measured in any direction with tiny
eyes, tiny nose, and a dozen chins that danced when he laughed, which seemed to be always.
He was standing next to a pickup truck marked Ace Battery Shop, talking to the driver.
And because of that, you want more money for them, huh? That, I suppose, is easy to get.
Now look, Hippo, I...
Listen, Plum, I won't pay anymore. My overhead is too high already. So if you can't get them
for me at the same price, forget the whole deal. Besides, I don't like the way you do
business anyhow.
Meaning what, Hippo?
Meaning that when I give you an order, Plum, I want it delivered to me in person, not to
just any flunky that's standing around.
Okay, okay. That was a slip. It won't happen again.
Yeah, not twice it won't. Goodbye, Plum. I got customers.
Can I help you, mister?
Maybe. I'm looking for Barney Kovac. Is he around?
No. Why? What do you want him for?
Maybe murder.
Why? Barney, he killed someone?
If... wait a minute. Plum, I said goodbye. Go on, beat it.
Okay, okay, Hippo. I'll see you around.
Listen, let's go in the office here, mister.
A little quieter.
Sit down.
Thanks.
You a cop?
No, private detective. Name's Marlow, Hippo.
Marlow, huh?
Mm-hmm.
I never heard of you. I never heard of a lot of people.
That's right, Hippo. People like, for instance, Mark Hummel.
Why him, Marlow?
He was the one Kovac killed.
Well, well, well. What do you know?
Doesn't seem to break you up.
Why should it? Hummel was a louse, Marlow. Everybody said so.
Of course, I didn't know him personally, except I'd joke with him when he brought his car in.
You know, a little laugh goes a long way with some guys.
Tell me, Hippo, did you know that Hummel was going out of town?
Yeah, he told me this afternoon.
Should have gone yesterday, huh?
Shut up.
Okay, okay, so you don't like jokes. I can play it straight.
No.
What do you want?
For an open of this.
A tall blonde with brown eyes and a pretty face who knows how to handle a 45 as well as conversation walked in here.
Would you know her?
Am I?
It would be Rhonda Beaumont, Barney's girl. She lives in a plush apartment over at 38 Sweetser Drive just above the strip.
How does she figure?
Probably great in a Catalina swimsuit, but in this deal I'm not sure.
She might have put me on the right track by setting me straight about a key to Hummel's apartment that I found next to his body.
Wasn't his.
A key?
Yeah, the design on it near the top, the round part was like a fancy figure eight. Mean anything to you?
Not being a locksmith, no.
Anything else?
Yeah. Where can I find Barney Kovac?
How would I know? He quit at five today just like he does every day.
And I quit at nine, Marlow, which happens to be right now, so goodbye, mister.
Just like that.
Yeah, just like that.
You see, if I work late, Marlow, I got to pay myself overtime.
That hurts because I can't afford it.
See what I mean, boy?
I was out on the street and behind the wheel of my car before I saw the man in the back seat where a snub-nosed 38 leveled at my hairline.
It looked rugged enough to be no one else but Barney Kovac.
Drive, Marlow. Straight to the corner of Melrose and Orange Drive.
I live over a store there, and it's quiet, so we can talk without being disturbed.
Go on, drive.
Right ahead of you, Marlow. One with a closed transom. Keep walking.
And when I get there?
Then you'll go inside, sit down, and rest while you listen.
To what?
To the truth, Marlow. I've been following you long enough tonight to know that you're off your rocker.
You see, fella, I didn't kill Hummel.
Yeah, I know. He's double-jointed. It was suicide. Slugged himself from behind.
All right, cut it. Here's the key. Open up.
Okay. Hey, you made a mistake, Kovac. Wrong key.
What are you talking about? Let me see that.
Sure.
With pleasure.
Stupid. Now that I got you a gun, bud, try it yourself.
Am I Kovac? Close quarters make me nervous.
You're making a mistake, Marlow.
Yeah, yeah, sure I am. Guys who are off their rocker always do, remember?
I get over there in that chair and behave while I use your phone.
Marlow, don't move or I'll kill you.
Hippo.
Barney, take the gentleman's gun. It's heavy for him.
Sure.
Here, now, here, boy. Here's some money. Get clear of L.A. until this thing's all cleaned up. You're in a bad spot.
I know, but I didn't kill Hummel. Hippo, you gotta believe me.
Yeah, by all means.
Barney, my boy, if you say it, I believe it. But others won't be that accommodating, I'm sure, so go on.
And no matter what you do, don't worry about Marlow.
Huh?
Nah, he won't be following you. You can count on that, Barney.
In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlow. But first, programs on a summer Sunday afternoon come to you at home, in your cars, on the beaches, in 101 other places where you are at ease.
And for your leisure time listening, what is better than music?
Every Sunday afternoon, CBS brings you two outstanding programs of music. Gems from the great composers played by the symphonette, and the sweet memorable songs of the outstanding modern composers and semi-classicists, sung by the choraliers.
Each program is designed especially for fine summer Sunday afternoon listening.
Hear both the symphonette and the choraliers tomorrow afternoon on most of these same CBS network stations.
Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow, and tonight's story, The Key Man.
The gun wrapped in the thick fat fist of Hippo looked like a toy as he leveled it at my chest while Kovac got away.
And the fat boy kicked the door shut, leaned his ponderous 300 pounds against it and smiled.
The smile faded gradually and finally died, but the muzzle of the gun in his hand didn't so much as twitch until the battered alarm clock on the dresser had clanked off a monotonous 15 minutes.
At that point, Hippo Link leaved his face up into another smile, waddled across the room and laid the gun down on the table in front of me.
Okay Marlow, you behaved yourself real nice. Barney's got all the head start he'll need, so you can leave now.
You know something Link, you're not only fat between the sleeves, you're overweight between the ears too. Helping a suspect escape doesn't sit well at headquarters.
Just a minute boy, you're kind of jumping to conclusions aren't you? You were putting the muscle on a friend of mine and I helped him out.
That's all that happened so far. You look a little silly running me in on that, but if you still want to try boy, the gun's right there on the table.
Okay Hippo, you win for now. But don't think I'd buy that silly one, two, three story of yours.
I may not be Peck's bad boy, but I don't see you as a gala head either.
Well, how do you put the story together then?
I don't know that that's any of your business and even if I thought it were, I wouldn't tell you. But I'll let you in on this much.
I don't know for sure that Kovac is guilty, but then I don't know for sure where you or Kovac's girl Rhonda Beaumont fit either.
I wouldn't know.
You said you knew her. You seem to think a good deal of that kid Kovac.
So?
So couldn't it be possible she paid you to come up here and see that her boyfriend got away?
Like you said Marlow, I don't know that it's any of your business.
How much cash does it take for you to stick your neck out as far as you have? Or could it be you've got a thing going for Kovac's girl and we'll be glad to see him out of town?
You're kidding. Look, why don't you go alone? What's it to you now?
My client was knocked off right under my nose, remember? Are you going to let me out of solitary?
Sure. Pick up your pistol and run. And if you need me for any more help, be sure and let me know.
I left Hippo standing in Kovac's flat and downstairs I stopped in a phone booth long enough to have the latest developments for what they were worth relayed to Lieutenant Matthews.
And I drove out to where suites are turned straight up into the hills and parked in front of number 38, the Murrow Apartments.
A terrace teapot of pastel plaster and angled glass in which Rhonda Beaumont had a first floor front.
I took a look at the large private view of the city as I crossed the small private patio and knocked on the substantial private entrance.
When it cracked open, I helped it along just enough to step inside.
What in the... Marlow, you will come in, won't you, whether you're asked or not?
Yes, and it's sweet of you to ask me, Rhonda. Is, is he here?
He? In a city of four million, half of which are male, that borders on being a stupid question. But the answer is no in any case because until you strong-armed your way in here, I was alone.
I can't buy it. I figure Bonnie's the kind of a boy that would want to take stuff like you right along with him when he leaves.
Bonnie leaving? What are you talking about?
He's running away from that mess over on Fountain. He's leaving town.
You're lying. I've heard enough from you, Marlow.
I'll take the handbag, baby.
Heavy enough to have that cute.45 caliber compact inside, right?
Okay, it's in there. Take it. I don't care.
But look, Marlow, is that the truth about Barney leaving town?
As if you didn't know, yes. And while we're on that subject, why did you show up at Mark Hummel's place tonight?
Well, I went there to warn him about Barney.
Wait a minute, wait a minute. I thought you were in love with Kovac.
I am. Do I have to draw you a picture? Barney Kovac's strong and reckless, but he was trying hard, awfully hard to get started for himself and then to get to the point where he's going to leave town.
And then, well, I used to go with Mark before I met Barney.
And because of that, Mark deliberately beat him out of the best deal he'd ever had, the louse.
Just to spite me.
Well, Barney was furious and I knew something terrible would happen if they ever got together.
So I went to tell Mark to stay out of his way. That's all.
You got there a little too late, is that it?
I don't know.
Well, at least give me a handkerchief out of my bag, Marlow, darn it.
Yeah, sure. Here I am.
Hey, hey, these keys. Rhonda, this one, the one with the figure eight design, where'd you get it?
It's my new door key.
Yeah, I know, but where'd you get it?
I don't know. Barney had it made for me one day while we were having lunch.
Who's the guy who made it?
I don't know.
Where were you eating that day?
Hungarian place on Fairfax, near Santa Monica. Where are you going, Marlow?
Fairfax, near Santa Monica. Here's your bag, Rhonda, and if you got any sense, stay put and try real hard not to shoot anybody.
At least until I call.
Okay.
So long, baby.
Bye.
Hey, latexers, the world's in terrible shape. It's a mess. Read all about it.
Latex for papers. It's all over now. Paper, mister?
No, thanks, kid. Tell me something. Where's a locksmith on this block?
Locksmith? No, there ain't none.
Oh, come on. Sure there is. A guy who makes keys. It's got to be. Think hard, will you? It's important.
Think hard, he says. Look, mister, I know this whole neighborhood like the back of my own hand. No key maker.
Well, how about a guy who sharpened saws, scissors, things like that?
No, nothing like that. We got filling stations, bars, a delicatessen, drugstore, shoemaker, dry goods store, three restaurants.
One's Hungarian. That's on Fairfax. Ace Battery Shop there across the street. A toy store on the corner. A lamp-shaped joint.
Wait a minute. Hold it. Battery. Ace Battery... Plume. Plume.
Yeah, yeah, that's it. Old man Plume owns the joint. A real sour apple, you know what I mean?
Places are dumb, too, but he works hard. He's probably over there right now, working in the back room.
Bless you, my boy. Thanks a lot.
Yeah, who is it?
Customer, my battery's dead. You got to help me.
Now look, mister, my place is closed up. Come back... Hey, what is this?
Sorry, Plume, but tomorrow's a long way off. This is an emergency. Now take it easy and you'll be okay.
I got a job for you and it's got to be done tonight.
Well, listen, I said my place is... Shut up!
Now get this, Plume, I'm a friend of Hippo Link's and Bonnie Kovacs. All of which makes you perfect for my job.
Now what kind of a job you're talking about?
This. It's a key. Duplicated.
A key? Hey, buddy, this is a battery shop. I can't make keys here. In the first place, you got to have a license.
I said this was an emergency. Didn't I get busy?
With what? My fingernails? I don't know how to cut keys.
Somebody's stringing you, pal, and I... Plume, keep away from that drawer!
Well, well, well, well. Whole drawer full of blank keys, huh?
That 38 in the drawer here must be that license you spoke of. Come on, you, get up!
Wait, wait, leave me alone. I didn't do anything. Now listen, Plume, I want one straight answer out of you, fast.
You made a delivery to Link's garage some time today and it wasn't batteries. Who'd you give it to? Come on!
I left it with Barney Kovac. He was the only one around, but it was nothing, an envelope.
Yeah, full of keys. Thanks very much for your help, Plume, but I'm in a hurry.
Just so I'll be sure to see you later. Good night!
I ran out to my car, piled in, and headed straight out Santa Monica for La Cienega.
When I got within sight of the dark, Cabin's entrance to Hippo Link's underground storage garage,
I slowed down and looked for a phone that I could use to call Matthews and still keep an eye on the garage,
because the way things stood now, I couldn't afford to miss a lick. But then I got a break.
I decided to try a mobile gas station on the corner when the scream of a siren shoved me up against a curb,
and a squad car swerved out from a side street, drawn to a rubble-burning stop in front of the garage
and disgorged Matthews himself and the driver on the double.
I slammed out of my coupe and belted across the street after him. Matthews! Hey, Matthews!
Oh, get back! Over this way! We'll get Kovac cornered down inside there. You're just in time.
Now, wait a minute, wait a minute, Matthews, you got this deal all wrong.
Oh, no, we haven't. I got two mountain back. He's trapped. We'll get him.
No, no, no, hold everything, Matthews. Listen to me. I'm going down there and talk to him. I'll be back in a minute.
Come back here, Plume!
Kovac! Kovac, this is Marlow. Come on out. I got all the answers now, Barney.
I just had a talk with Plume and I got a lot of truth out of him. Come on, Barney, you're not helping anything.
Ooh, Marlow!
Phil, Phil, you all right?
It's my shoulder, Matthews.
Oh, I know this. It happens sometimes.
No!
No, listen to me. Don't shoot. Don't!
Look at my arm!
Listen, Matthews, Kovac didn't do it.
What?
The shot that got me came from back there on the other side.
Yeah, that's it, Pete. Further back. There! There he is, Matthews. That's the boy.
That's the fat guy runs this joint.
That's right. Yeah, Hippo Link. Second Lieutenant, he's your killer.
Stop, Link! Stop!
I got him, Phil. He's down.
Yeah. Yeah, that's one nice thing about Hippo. You can't miss him.
Oh, thanks.
I think I'd better sit down a minute.
Hello, Marlow. You feeling better now?
Oh, great, great. You can't beat these hospital beds for comfort, Lieutenant.
I'm getting one for my apartment. You can crank it into 30 different positions, you know that?
Yeah, yeah, I know. The doc says you got off with a flesh wound.
Yeah, you're pretty lucky, Phil.
And I just stopped by to tell you they saved Hippo Link, so he'll have to be tried.
It won't be much, though. He's already admitted everything.
What about Plume? Did you get anything on him?
Still so groggy, hardly knew his own name when we picked him up.
Yeah, it was quite a racket they had, Matthews.
Yeah, smooth, smooth. Every rich customer come into Hippo's garage, left his house key with his car keys,
was a cinch to be burglarized sooner or later.
Yeah, Plume cuts a duplicate key. They find out when the people are away, and that's all they need. Some setup.
But sure backfired on him tonight. Hummel went to a lot of trouble to tell Hippo that he was leaving town at seven
just to throw Bonnie off his trail. But Hippo took it as a great opening for his racket.
So Hummel came home right in the middle of the burglary, and Hippo had to kill him to get out of the way.
That's it? Oh, by the way, the friend of yours out here.
Oh? Yeah, I'll get him.
Come on in, Bonnie. He's feeling fine.
Ah, swell. Hi, Mr. Marlow.
Hi.
I guess Rhonda and I owe you quite a vote of thanks.
You owe me nothing but an explanation, Kovac. Why'd you run?
Oh, I don't know. Half the way I shot my mouth off about Hummel, I figured I was hooked for sure when he turned up dead.
Once I started running, I couldn't stop. Kept getting worse.
Yeah, it's exactly what Hippo figured.
That's one I don't get, Marlow. Why'd he help me in the first place?
He had to, brother. Hippo knew that my best clue was an extra door key.
He also knew that Plume had left a bunch of keys with you to give to him.
He was sure that if we ever got together and talked about keys, he'd be stuck.
But as it turned out, I got the same lead anyway from the key Plume made for Rhonda.
Hey, Matthews. Crank me up in the middle, will you?
Come on, like this, Phil?
Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.
Barney, turn off that reading lamp, will you, please?
Sure. Yeah. Anything else, Marlow?
Yeah, yeah. You see that no visitor sign there?
Yeah.
Well, just hang it on the door on your way out.
I'm here for three days, fellas. Gonna make the best of them. Good night, all.
When they left, I nestled down to the solid comfort of clean sheets and quiet darkness.
And my eyes were almost closed.
When it happened, the light snapped on.
A pair of efficient hands grabbed me, stabbed an inch of hypodermic needle into my right arm,
jammed the cold, hard thermometer under my tongue, and splashed a half a pint of icy alcohol on my back.
Oh, it was awful.
But when it was over, she looked back from the door and smiled before she went out.
A redheaded nurse and very pretty.
Only then did I notice the set of keys she'd forgotten on my medicine table.
One was thick for the figure eight design.
It was her door key.
For just a moment, I wondered foolishly if I could get a hold of Mr. Plume again some way.
For just a few minutes.
Ah, cut it out, Marlow. Go to sleep.
The Adventures of Philip Marlow, bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character and crime's most deadly enemy, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald.
The script is by Mel Dennelly, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt.
Featured in the cast were Vivi Janis, Parley Bear, Jack Moyles, Howard McNear, Shep Menken, and Don Oreck.
Detective Lieutenant Matthews is played by Larry Dubkin.
The special music is written by Richard O'Rant.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlow says...
It was going to be a vacation in the wide open spaces, but a black stallion, a tiny emerald, and a batted horseshoe meant a 24-hour delay.
It could have been worse, because to the dude from Manhattan, they meant death.
Most of us think we are free of tuberculosis, yet how many of us make sure with periodic chest x-rays that we have no symptoms of this dread disease?
Anyone can have TB without being aware of it.
In the early stages, there are often no signs, and yet it is in this early stage when it is most important for the disease to be detected.
So remember, TB can be cured if you catch it in time.
Make an appointment for that chest x-ray immediately.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
Stay tuned now for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of the same CBS network stations.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.