Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road, and those who travel it wind up in the gutter, the prison, or the grave.
It started with death on my doorstep and got worse when I lied to a sympathetic bull, was pistol-whipped by a gorilla with dimples, and fought with a kitten on the keys.
And it might have gone on that way all night if I hadn't been helped by the King of the Beasts.
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, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The August Lion.
It was one of those in-between hours, along about ten on a night at home when you don't quite know what to do with yourself.
Then all of a sudden it's eleven, and then eleven thirty, and you're in slippers and a robe and have done nothing.
Which is exactly where I was, except that I'd already decided on one and only one very dry martini, a quiet cigarette, and bed.
When it came loud, insistent, and unwelcome. No improvement when I opened up. I saw less than five feet of excited cab driver jumping up and down.
Hey mister, you Doc Marlowe?
Yeah, I'm Doc... Doc Marlowe.
That's right, here he comes with a doc, you better make room. Is the sofa there okay? I'll clear it all.
Wait a minute, Jack, who comes? Who?
Okay mister, bring her on in, the doc's here all right. Hey doctor, she's stiff, she's out like a light.
Who?
The babe, who do you think? Sure too bad some people can't drink, huh doc?
Yeah, it's real tough. Now tell me, do you?
Hello Phil.
Judd's an angel.
I'm sorry to bust in on you this way, is the sofa all right?
No, it's stuffed with granite, put her in the bedroom.
Okay, will you take care of the driver please?
Yeah, yeah, how much friend?
Well, only eighty cents on a meter doc, but then it was...
A couple of bucks ought to cover it here. Good night.
Good night diamond Jim.
Well Phil, I guess I'd better explain all this.
Uh huh.
Here I haven't seen you in six months and when I do...
Never mind the details Judd boy, let's talk about the problem. Who's the girl?
Her name's Voss, Eileen Voss. She's kind of a stockbroker.
Maybe speculative is a better term.
You know, takes big chances with other people's money.
I was in love with her Phil, until tonight.
When what happened?
When I found out I was just one of many, it threw me Phil.
I really lost my temper, I swore I'd kill her on sight.
Yeah, most guys do at a time like that Judd.
What's that got to do with her being drunk?
By the way, while we're talking I'll put on some coffee, huh?
No, no don't Phil.
Why not?
Because it can't help.
She had a shot too many, alright, only this one's a bullet in her head.
She's dead.
Oh fine.
Now Phil listen please, you've got to help me. I've got to find out who did it.
Phil, it started a couple of hours ago when I found out she'd been playing me for a sucker.
I went to her place the first time in a week, boiling mad.
The door was open...
Judd and Angel's eyes never left my face as he told the story from the beginning.
A girl's body on the couch when he walked in, a neat hole in the back of her head.
When he knew she owned shoved under a pillow.
Then in the next second before he could even look in the other rooms.
The arrival of the cabby somebody called who thought Eileen was just another drunk who had to be shown the way to go home.
How he seized on that is an opportunity to keep from being placed at the scene of the murder he had every reason to commit.
How minutes after he was in the cab he realized it was near my place.
How to avoid suspicion he said I was a doctor, everything except why specifically he was so afraid of the police.
I knew that was going to be next.
Now Phil I suppose you want to know why I couldn't possibly call the police.
Yeah that's right, why?
Because I'd surely be booked and fingerprinted.
And that had ruined me.
You see a long time ago I served time in the state penitentiary in Illinois.
What?
Yes, yes, oh I've kept it quiet.
Only Phoebe Hammond in my office knows.
It was before Jerry Phil, it was under another name and way back when I didn't know the difference between clever business and crooked business.
It's taken ten years to work up my reputation as an accountant.
So you see if I get mixed up in this it'll all come out and...
Well, smash, lots of pieces, no more.
Oh you've got to help me Phil, you've got to find the real killer before the police get to me.
Please Phil.
I can't Judd.
It'd be smashing just as many little pieces for me too if I tried to pull anything like this on homicide.
Oh I'm sorry Judd, I've got to report this body.
But Phil look, what if you do report the body but you say that you don't know anything about it, that you're going out to find what you can.
What about that Phil?
Oh please, please Phil.
Okay, what's the girl's address?
91 Hollycrest Drive.
Yeah, the door wasn't locked Phil.
Your phone number Judd?
Gladstone 3926, I won't move out of my place until I hear from you.
Now make sure you don't Judd, because if I can't find the real killer I've got to tell what I know about you.
You understand that don't you?
When Angel left I called Detective Lieutenant Matthews at the police headquarters and lied that there was a corpse in my apartment about which I knew nothing.
And that I was on my way out to see what I could find.
Then I hung up fast not feeling very good.
20 minutes later when I was in the plush living room at 91 Hollycrest Drive I had zero to go on.
Until I got to the bedroom where caught in the folds of lace at the bottom of a petticoated vanity I found a piece of male jewelry that stood out against that backdrop like argyle socks on a turtle.
It was a gold tie clasp ornamented with a figure of a lion.
A little more majestic than most.
I dropped it into my pocket and then moved out into a long hall that led to the kitchen.
I was about to start torrid when he spoke.
Don't move buddy.
Like the voice he was taken soft especially in the middle where he was girdled in double breasted gray flannel.
So I couldn't tell whether it was plus or minus a tie clasp.
Also he had no hair and a pair of deep dimples that danced when he talked.
A gun in his hand didn't.
Okay turn around.
Let's go back to the living room buddy I want to ask you a few questions.
Like why you're taking inventory here.
Well it's my job you see I'm an auctioneer the lady of the house won't need this stuff anymore.
Shut up.
Now stop where you are and don't turn around.
Okay where's the girl?
Come on come on where is she?
Out.
And only if you'll tell me why you want to know will I tell you where you see that way I come out even.
Yeah maybe.
Lailene Vos owes me money buddy and I want it now before she's flat broke.
Now you where is she?
On her way to the morgue like you don't know.
What do you mean by that I didn't kill her?
Honest engine.
Listen you get this straight.
I came into this place just now for one reason only.
To check on the Vos girl and make sure she wasn't on her way out of town bagging baggage in hand and my fifty grand.
I don't forget that.
I'll try not to.
And don't move.
Hello.
No no she's not here she.
Judy?
Yeah it's me honey.
No no she's.
She's out.
Yeah.
I'll tell you about it later at the club.
Yeah.
Right Judy.
So long.
Now where were we buddy?
In the middle of a big fat lie your reason for being here.
Oh yeah yeah.
That's where we were.
And you know?
That's a good old lace to leave it.
Buddy.
When the twin telephones lamps and end tables next to me got back to being one of each again.
I saw the note next to the phone that said call Monday at the garden room.
Which didn't add to much until I realized that Monday was spelled not as the day in the week but M-U-N-D-Y.
And recall the garden room was a cozy collection of crepe paper flowers where some people did their serious drinking.
That plus dancing dimples telling a girl named Judy who had called for Eileen in the first place.
That he'd meet her at the club was a little better than the zero plus Thai class I'd been working with.
And a half hour later that little became a lot and things started to dovetail because a placard under glass in front of the garden room bragged about the glamour post pianist featured inside.
Whose name was first Judy second Monday not as day in the week.
I blessed my good luck exchange smiles only with a head check girl in the lobby.
Found a table for one inside not more than a half a dozen octaves away from this Monday's left hand.
I'd ordered a drink and had a cigarette going before she paid any attention to me.
I'll play anything you want.
It's a rule of the house.
Just name it or hum it or whistle.
But don't prune.
That's also a rule of the house.
What'll it be?
How about the number you always play for that fat friend of yours?
You know the one with the deep dimples?
Burlap?
Hmm.
Sure.
Kind of corny.
Remember it?
Yeah.
You a friend of his?
Not exactly.
I didn't think so.
He'd crown you if he heard you say dimples.
He's sensitive.
You're new here, aren't you?
I've been in once or twice.
Mutual friend of ours used to speak well of you.
Eileen Voss.
What made her change her mind?
She was murdered tonight.
Any idea who did it?
I said any...
I heard you.
No, mister, I haven't got the slightest idea.
There, that's the end of your request.
Sorry, but I'm only allowed one to a customer.
It's a rule of the house, I know, yeah.
I'll see you, Judy.
Hello.
This is Marlow, Angel.
Oh, Phil.
What are you?
What have you found out?
In that order, I'm in a phone booth at a club called the Garden Room.
What I've found out so far won't impress Detective Lieutenant Matthews
or the Homicide Squad at all when next we meet.
But nothing in the apartment?
No lead of any kind?
I'm not sure, Judd.
I ran into a round man with a sleek gun who piled me up
and left before very much was said.
But Phil, the Garden Room, the girl there's a friend of Eileen's.
Talk to her.
Yeah, yeah, I already did, Judd.
Got me the round man's name and no more of its beleffy.
You mean anything?
Beleffy.
Yeah.
A fat guy with dimples and no hair?
That's right.
He claimed Eileen had 50 grand that belonged to him.
Yeah, that must be him then, Phil.
Yes, he's a gray marketeer, comes from San Francisco.
I've never seen him, but the girl in my office, Phoebe Hammond, can help us.
She once did some auditing work for Berla, but she found out how crooked it was.
She told me about him.
I'll call her and have her meet you there, Phil.
All right, but look, I'll be at a corner table facing the door
and tell her to hurry, will you?
I'll call you back later.
Goodbye.
It was exactly one o'clock when what was at least three parts CPA to each part woman
pushed the front door out of the way and entered.
At the top there was close cropped hair streaked with some gray, no hat.
At the bottom dark brown stockings running into darker brown shoes, no heels.
In between severely tailored tweed, closed tight at the neckline.
It took all of 15 efficient seconds to decide that I was her man.
And less than that again to introduce herself, ask for a cigarette and name her Drake.
And it was my turn to talk, I brought her up to date.
Eileen Voss's murder included.
It's too bad, Marlow, Judd's a great guy.
Yeah.
It was only lunch today that he was knocking himself out.
Trying to figure what would be for or for my birthday next week.
Now this. Tell me, what can I do to help?
Well, at the moment, Berleffy.
All I know about him, Miss Hammond, aside from what I told you,
he said at Eileen's, is that he and Judy Mundy are a team.
And Judy was a friend of Eileen.
How cozy.
Isn't it?
Well, it goes like this.
Berleffy's front name is Steve and he's out of San Francisco via Detroit and Chicago.
And in each case, only a length of the subpoena ahead of the law.
Oh.
Back in the 30s, he was a mobster.
The numbers game, protection racket, that kind of stuff.
But after the war, he cashed in all his chips and went into a more or less legitimate business.
With, of course, absolutely no change in tactics.
Know what you mean.
Now look, can you tell me where he lives?
No. But I'll bet my bottom dollar that the kitten on the keys here can.
Only be careful.
Berleffy has a reputation for shooting first and talking later.
I only hope he isn't after Judd too.
You know, there might be some connection between them that goes back to the days when Judd was Francis Lyon and Berleffy was the...
Phoebe, did you just say Francis Lyon?
That's right. L-Y-O-N.
Judd's an angel is the name he took when he came out here.
Why? What does that mean?
I don't know.
Here, look at this tie clasp.
The ornament.
It's also a lion.
I found it in the bedroom at Eileen's place and yet...
Judd told me that he hadn't gone past the living room.
But Marlow, that doesn't prove that Judd lied. Why, it might not be his at all.
Have you ever seen it before?
No, I haven't. Besides, I never knew Judd to wear a tie clasp.
Okay. Could belong to Berleffy.
But it's still worth checking after we get Judd out of his apartment.
Look, where's your place, Phoebe?
Mulholland Drive, 361 North.
361.
About a mile up into the hills.
I'll let you do the trick.
Honey, you go home and stay close to the fireside.
I'll get a hold of Judd and tell him to get over there fast.
And then maybe we... we can...
Maybe we can what? What is it, Marlow?
Outside, Phoebe. It's a man coming this way.
Berleffy?
Worse. Goodbye, baby. I'll see you later at your place.
I've been afraid of this all night.
But who is it? What's his name?
Detective Lieutenant Matthews. He's a police officer, Phoebe.
First, last, and always so long.
In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlow.
But first, music you like best of all,
whether it's classical favorites or popular old ballads,
is the music you hear when you tune in Sunday afternoon
to the symphonette and the choralears.
This Sunday, the symphonette plays popular operatic pieces
and has as guest Milton Kay, pianist,
who will play the final movement
from Rachmaninoff's Concerto No. 2 in C minor.
The male choir and Lenny Stokes, featured baritone of the chorus,
will bring you Pale Moon, The Wizard of Oz, Alice Blue Gown,
Make Believe, and other favorites.
Yes, it's the music you like when you tune in the symphonette
and the choralears every Sunday
over most of these same CBS stations.
Now with our star, Gerald Moore,
we return to the second act of Philip Marlow
and tonight's story, The August Lion.
When I left Phoebe Hammond at the table and moved toward the bar,
my first impulse was run, do not walk,
this is a different kind of an emergency.
But a quick glance into the mirror behind me
tagged that as suicide and pushed Tri Nonchalance into its place
because I could see that Detective Lieutenant Matthews
had already spotted me.
When he was closer, I could also see that Nonchalance
would go over like punching him in the nose
on the steps of City Hall.
All right, Phil, that little game is over.
Now let's have it straight and fast, who you're working for.
And don't bother with the pitch and professional ethics,
we'll try this all over again down in headquarters.
His name, what is it, Phil?
Judson Angel, he's a friend.
Who is what to the corpse?
He was in love with her, but he didn't kill her.
Now look, Matthews, I've never held out on you before, have I?
Which means you want to start now, huh?
What are you getting at, Phil?
My client's in a jam, Lieutenant.
He didn't kill the girl, but unless I can find out who did,
he's an eyebrow deep in a mess that doesn't even concern him.
Which has what to do with you playing bashful tipster on the phone
with a body being in your bedroom
and Marlow starring like a one-man police force?
Will you listen?
Come on, Phil, I've been an hour and a half just finding you,
now level.
Why is this Judson Angel in a jam if he didn't do it?
Okay, okay, we'll try it on a slide.
He once did time in another state under another name,
way back when he had less sense.
If he's booked and fingerprinted,
it'll be splashed all over the papers, he'll be ruined.
Why, what's his business?
Well, today it's accountancy and then it was forgery.
You can see that side by side, they don't make a very handsome couple.
Now come on, Matthews, give the guy a break.
Will you take my word, he deserves it.
What do you want me to do?
Give me some time.
If I don't have the answers, I'm out of luck and so is Judson Angel.
Please, Matthews.
All right, all right, Phil, all right.
Sixty minutes.
And if I don't hear from you by ten after two,
we start all over again down in headquarters, your client included.
I'll be waiting for your call, Phil, good night.
Detective Lieutenant Matthews was nobody's keystone cop
and I knew that when he said sixty, count him, sixty minutes,
he meant just that and no more.
So I found a nice and public phone booth at a gas station across the street
and while I kept one eye out for Burleffi and associates,
I dialed Judson Angel's number.
But in the next second when I was through to him,
I knew that I could forget about Burleffi on my end.
Phil, I'm in trouble here, outside a man and woman.
They're coming up the walk now.
He's fat and gray flannel?
Yes, yes, she just pulled up in a cab,
but he's been out there twenty minutes watching the place.
Burleffi, listen, Jud, get out the back way, get over to Phoebe's place.
He's out the door now, Phil.
He's kicking it in.
Phil, Phil, get up here, 21 South Orange Lane.
Jud, do as I say, will you? Get out.
Get to Phoebe's place on Mulholland Drive.
I'll see you there, hurry.
All right, Marlow, all right.
Marlow, he's in.
Jud, put that phone down, Angel, or I'll kill you, now.
When I screeched to his top at number 21 South Orange Lane,
which was lights out, front door open, and no car parked in sight,
I went inside.
Just visible in the moonlight was the huddled figure I'd been afraid I'd find.
What I didn't know until I was kneeling next to her
was that it was Judy Mundy, not my client,
and only unconscious, not dead.
There was a large white envelope lying next to her,
and beyond that, a litter of broken porcelain that had once been a lamp.
I switched on a light, found some brandy,
and then brought her two as fast as I could.
Marlow.
Yeah, and with a brand new request.
Here, take a drink.
Now, I'll ask the questions.
One, what happened here with the three of you?
Where's Burleffy and, more important, Judd Angel?
Come on, baby, talk fast.
All right!
I think Angel got away.
I don't know where he is.
Burleffy?
Dead, I hope.
I got him to thank for that lamp getting together with my head.
How come?
Angel made a break for it, kicked out the lights,
and tossed the lamp at the same time.
Here, oh, Burleffy, used me for a shield,
then took off after him.
Your connection with both Burleffy and Eileen Voss, what was it?
I forget.
Come on, Judy, baby, talk.
You're not going to get another chance this side of the witness box.
Witness...
Witness box? What for?
Your girlfriend's murder, trial by jury,
an old Yankee tradition, you remember?
Wait a minute, Marlowe.
I didn't have anything to do with Eileen getting killed.
They can't tie that on to me.
They can try. Now, what'll it be?
It'll be...
It'll be what you want.
That's better.
I only got chummy with Eileen in the last month, Marlowe,
because Burleffy told me to.
He was my boyfriend.
Hooray for love. Go on.
What was in it for Burleffy?
He wanted to know where Eileen got her tips on the market.
That way he could pay her any commission.
Figures. What went wrong?
Nothing.
Only instead of finding out how well she knew who,
I discovered she was going broke, period.
The rest of it, you, Eileen being dead,
that muscle woman you talked to in the bar, all the music...
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute.
What about that girl in the bar?
You two get together?
Not for very long.
After you left the table, she went outside, so I followed.
Why?
Because the cow jumped over the moon. Why do you think?
I was still working for Burleffy, remember?
I thought it would help if he knew where she fit in.
What'd it get you?
A slap in the face.
I thought she was raised on bar bells.
And this envelope here that fell out of her pocket.
Oh?
Don't get excited about it.
It's only one of those horoscope charts.
What do you do? Collect them as a hobby?
When there are notes on the back, yeah.
However, for a friend, Burleffy was unimpressed.
Yeah, look yourself, it's double talk.
Hmm. Cost plus plus 10%.
90 days with Eileen Sanderson.
Yeah, it's strictly a CPA's margin, though.
It doesn't mean it...
Marlow, your mouth's open. What is it? You look dumb.
Dumb I am and have been all night.
Sweetheart, in your own clumsy way, you may have saved Judson Angel's life.
What are you talking about, Marlow?
According to this horoscope, it's written in the stars.
Maybe I'll make a good cop happy. Goodbye, sweets.
Old Holland Drive is a fancy collection of hairpin turns and deceptive curves
along the top of a mountain that separates Hollywood and Beverly Hills
from the San Fernando Valley.
But when I was on it and burning up good rubber at each bend
as I headed for number 361 North, gas pedal on the floor,
driving conditions were the least of my worries.
And it wasn't until I had parked away from the bungalow
that perched on the edge of a cliff and was out of my car,
38 in hand and close to a half-open French window,
that I breathed a long, long sigh of relief.
Because then I could clearly see that Judson Angel was still alive.
I swallowed the sigh fast when I could also see Angel's face.
It said there was nothing permanent about his good health.
Because on the other side of the room,
the only thing visible to me via a corner mirror was the reason why.
Holding on tight to a short, ugly revolver
was the one the horoscope had said could be Eileen Voss's killer,
the CPA known as Phoebe Hammond.
While she talked, I moved around to where I'd be able to take aim
in one straight line.
I didn't want to kill Eileen in the first place. It was an accident.
I don't believe you.
It doesn't matter now.
You see, I'd invested some money with her, Jud.
Money that wasn't mine.
When I found out she was going broke,
I went up to see her and demanded it back.
She laughed at me. I got mad. I hit her.
She took out a gun and said she'd call the police if I didn't leave.
I grabbed it away from her.
Then I shot her.
Then you were there when I came in.
Yes. When I saw you and that cab driver she'd called earlier,
take the body out, I didn't know what to do.
Until later, when I met with Marlow on your behalf
and learned all about Berleffy and the Thai class we'd found.
I'd put the lion on it, that you'd recognize as mine
if Marlow ever got the chance to show it to you.
But he won't, Jud. I can't let him.
Phoebe, Phoebe, you're crazy. You're crazy.
You'll never get away with this.
Oh, yes, I will, Jud.
It'll be Berleffy they'll blame.
He entered your room with a gun in his hand.
I know. I saw him and that girl.
Also, Jud, I'm the reason you got away from him.
I rammed into his car when he started after you.
It's too bad, Jud.
Worse than that, Phoebe. It's a crying shame.
Marlow!
The lights! The lights! Don't, Phil, she can see your silhouette!
I can follow her footsteps. We're even.
Phil, the terrace. She's trying to get away.
There she is, outside.
She tripped Phil. The rail!
Oh, holy smoke.
Phil, it's a good 200 feet down.
Just solid rock.
Yeah.
Run away from it, Jud.
It's time we made a phone call.
It was four o'clock in the morning.
We were still on top of the mountain before the police had found the broken body of
Phoebe Hammond.
And Berleffy had been picked up and in lieu of anything better booked for
breaking and entering Eileen Voss's place.
When the parade of law, press and just curious who always show up at the scene of a murder
had finally left, had made it just me and Jud and a cop named Matthews.
Well, let me see if I got this straight for the records, Phil.
First, you thought it was a tough called Berleffy.
And second, you were afraid you'd been a sucker and it was really your client.
And finally, you figured it had to be a woman who all the way looked like she was
no more than along for the ride.
What? You mean you really believe I could have done it, Phil?
Well, yeah, it looked that way for a while, Jud.
You know, you said you hadn't been past the living room up at Eileen's and yet
I found a tie clasp in the bedroom there ornamented with a lion.
And then I found out your real name was also lion. It almost added.
Yeah, but since you didn't have a chance to find out whether or not Berleffy was missing
a tie clasp, you still consider that was only circumstantial evidence, right?
Right, yeah. Until I ran into the switch, which was an envelope that had belonged
to Phoebe Hammond. It was a horoscope chart inside.
Which meant what?
Well, it only meant that she went in for that stuff no more until I remembered
her mentioning that her birthday was next week, which is early August.
And that no doubt puts her under the sign of the zodiac run by one Leo the lion.
Uh-huh.
Yes. Yes, and the mannish tight neck suit she always wore could have meant
a shirt and tie underneath minus clasp.
Exactly, gentlemen. That's it.
Uh, now, me, lieutenant.
What?
Look, when you get back down to headquarters and you, you know, you start the paperwork.
Yeah.
Do you have to mention a guy named Judson Angel?
Uh, a guy named what?
Judson Angel.
Ha ha ha.
Ha ha.
Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking out loud.
Yeah, yeah. That's a bad practice, Phil, you know.
It's kind of like only telling a policeman half of what you know can get you in trouble.
Unless you're lucky.
Oh, uh, give you a lift, Mr.
Uh, you.
Mister.
You already have.
Thanks, lieutenant.
And Phil, I.
Judd.
When Judd and the lieutenant left, I figured I'd have a last cigarette on the terrace.
Think a little about the desperate people I'd met on a night that had started out to be quiet.
I found myself not smoking, not watching the early sun brighten the valley below.
And not thinking about much of anything except the overturned stone flower pot that was lying next to the splintered rail where
Phoebe Hammond had tripped and taken her final plunge.
It was an ordinary square flower pot with an ordinary flower in it.
The figure in relief on the side was a lion resting on its haunches.
And, you know, as I looked at it, I thought it was a little more majestic than most.
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character and crimes most deadly enemy star Gerald Moore and was directed tonight by Cliff Howell.
Script is by Mel D'Anelli, Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt.
Featured in the cast were Gene Bates, D.J. Thompson, Wally Mayer, Barney Phillips and Jerry Hausner.
Lieutenant Detective Matthews is played by Larry Dutkin.
The special music is written by Richard Aron.
Be sure and be with us next week when Philip Marlowe says.
It started with an Indian gift of a piece of pottery and led to a brown bear and moccasins and archaeologists much laughing water and finally death in an alley.
But just to make matters worse, the Indian giver was a female and 100 percent genuine hot blooded Apache.
They cracked the Phantom Voice question on singing again last Saturday.
So the jackpot is down to minimum only fifty thousand dollars.
Although looking at it optimistically, fifty thousand dollars is still the largest jackpot in radio.
You get other nice prizes just for solving those gay little riddle songs and it's one of the most entertaining hours you'll find all week.
So if you like fun and riddles and good tunes, even if you don't care about fifty thousand dollars, here's singing again tonight on most of these same CBS stations.
This is Joe Walter speaking.
Stay tuned now for gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same stations.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.