Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of the grave.
This time it started with a kid hawking papers on Hollywood Boulevard and moved from there to a house full of hate on a quiet street,
a blonde liar on ice skates and a corpse in a burned out shack.
And it all wound up right where it really began, in the heart of the kid on the corner.
From the pen of Raymond Trampler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character in The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.
Now with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Kid on the Corner.
After a day jam full of heat waves in December, actresses who passed mascara and long A's office talent,
and producers with glossy convertibles and holes in their shoes, the world looked as phony as a seven dollar bill.
And when I finally closed my office, stepped out onto Hollywood Boulevard into the glare from miles of sheet iron Christmas trees on lamppost trunks,
and watched a loudspeaker Santa Claus with neon reindeer trundle by in a cloud of artificial snow,
I'd have gladly traded all of Hollywood, California for one quiet Vermont hillside and thrown my license in to boot.
All of which convinced me that what Marlowe needed most was a martini in his own apartment, a good book and a night's sleep in that order.
So I started home after them, but only got as far as the middle of the street.
It was the kid who sold papers on the corner. Mr. Marlowe, can you spare a minute? I've got to talk to you.
Okay, Tommy, let's get out of the street first, huh? I'm not so good at dodging fenders. Oh yeah, sure.
What's on your mind, kid? It's about my Uncle Bert, Bert Larson. He's gone, Mr. Marlowe.
What about your family, Tommy? Don't they know where he is? I don't have no family. I've been living with Uncle Bert in a flat down in Van Ness.
Hey, if you haven't had your dinner yet, maybe you'd eat with me in the cafeteria, huh? It's real important to me, Mr. Marlowe.
Anything that's important to you, kid, is important to me. Let's go in.
Oh, swell. I should have known something was wrong when I heard him walking around late last night, you know?
He said he was after a drink of water, but he's got those metal plates kind of like taps on his shoes, so I knew he was all dressed,
only I was too sleepy to think anything about it then. Maybe he just got an early start and he's been busy today, huh?
No, it's not like that, Mr. Marlowe. Something's wrong. Well, you have, gentlemen. The pork's nice tonight.
Stew's the best deal for the money, Mr. Marlowe. I'll have the stew, please. Yeah, you better make it, too, Miss.
Okay, a couple of stews coming up. See, when I got up this morning, I found this envelope on the dresser.
It was 200 bucks inside, and this was written on the front. Huh? Let's see it.
Dear Tommy, must leave town on business, and I'll send more money soon. Be a good kid and take care of yourself, Uncle Bert.
Yeah, see what you mean? Yeah. I spent all day trying to find out where he went. I checked everything but the airport.
I know he wouldn't take a plane. He gets dizzy just standing on a curb. No luck, though. Milk, Mr. Marlowe?
I'll have coffee, Tommy. I feel rugged. Hey, there's a table over in the corner. Come on, huh?
Okay. What really makes it fishy is that Uncle Bert's got no out-of-town business. Besides, he's never been out in front more than 20 bucks in his life.
I can't figure it. Now, look, Tommy, if you're really worried you don't want me, you ought to go to the police right away.
Cops? Yeah. No, I can't. Why not? Well, Uncle Bert's been awful good to me, but, well, I guess he's really kind of a bum.
You see, he's a gambler, Mr. Marlowe, a bookie. Just a harmless small-timer, sure, but I'd get him in an awful jam if I called the cops.
Will you try to find him for me? I got dough. I'll pay you whatever you charge. Don't worry about the money, Tommy.
I got one lead for you. This name here in the back of the envelope, see? Yeah. Lester Carney and the number 3004.5. Does that mean anything to your kid?
No. I ought to look that guy up myself on E and how far a kid could get. Sure.
Gee, Mr. Marlowe, I'm sure my uncle didn't leave town. It's something else. It's gotta be. He's in some kind of trouble.
Now, Tommy, you know that he might be on the wrong end of it, don't you? Yeah.
Well, if that's right, I want to find it out fast, Mr. Marlowe. Here's a picture of him.
Scared, son? Me scared? Nah. Not for myself, anyway. I... Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am, kinda.
Well, okay, Tommy, eat your dinner and then get back to work. I'll see what I can find out, huh?
I patted my new client on the shoulder and left the cafeteria. But I was sure of one thing.
The dry rot that gets to most people in Hollywood wouldn't touch a hardworking kid named Tommy Lawson.
It was already smarter at 15 than a lot of citizens get at 50.
I stopped in a phone booth and found the name Lester Carney listed in the book at 8110 Cherokee Street.
That turned out to be an oversized California Spanish model that had taken lots of old-fashioned wealth to boom.
Halfway up the curving walk to the already open front door, I heard the voices.
All right, Susan, if that's the way you feel, I don't want you in this house another night.
Well, I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't think that spying and telling lies are a part of a maid's duties, so I'm leaving.
But I would like to know about my back salary first, Mrs. Carney.
You'll get your back salary, my girl. Don't worry about that. Now get out.
Very well, ma'am. Excuse me, sir. Oh, yeah, sure.
Well, what do you want? I'm looking for Mr. Lester Carney. Is he in? He is not.
Would you mind telling me where I can locate him? I don't know. And I don't care anymore.
Just a minute, just a minute. Is he with Burt Lawson, maybe?
I don't know what you're talking about. Now get out of here.
And good night to you, too, Mrs. Carney. Hey! Hey, Susan, just a minute, baby.
And who are you calling baby? I call anybody baby when they're as cute as you are.
You're not so bad yourself. Well, now that that's established, let's get friendly.
I'm always friendly. But they're not, huh?
Oh, there's going to be trouble in that house. Oh?
Well, good night, Mr. Carney. Now, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute.
I'll give you a lift in the car. Let me have your bag.
Well, all right. Thank you.
Say, what about that trouble you spoke of, Susan? What did you mean?
It's Mrs. Carney. Julia. She isn't as pretty as she used to be.
She's turned rancid. She's driven that poor husband of hers out of his mind.
He almost never comes home nowadays. Practically lives in his studio.
Studio? What kind? Photography.
It's way up in the Hollywood Hills someplace.
Susan, did you ever hear either of them mention a Bert Lawson?
No. Why, who's he? A gambler.
I gather from Julia that Carney's blowing the family fortune, huh?
Sure he is. And that's not all she's driven him to.
No. What else? What do you think? Another woman, of course.
An ice skater named Carole King at the Igloo.
That's that nightclub with the skating show.
Yeah, I've been there. Does Mrs. Carney know?
Oh, she suspects. That's why she wanted me to spy on him.
But I wouldn't because I don't blame him one bit.
Not with Julia being like she is.
Yeah, maybe you're right, Susan. But then again, maybe you've got your cause and effect backward, huh?
Yes. Well, I don't know anything about that.
But that poor man's been driven so crazy, he's threatened to kill her.
Well, here's where I get out. And stay out.
I dropped Susan off at the car stop and headed out Sunset Boulevard for Westwood in a club called the Igloo,
which looked more like a down-at-the-heel Taj Mahal than an Eskimo's bedroom.
Inside, a line of fast-moving ostrich plumes with rye-crisp waistlines and imitation sabre
zipped over a short sheet of tinted ice toward the climax of chorus numbers,
while I bluffed my way backstage and intimidated the call boy into sending over one Carole King.
She turned out to be left-end in the lineup out front, so I sat down on a cold trunk and waited until the curtain fell.
And I got up to greet an athletic blonde with more than healthy face,
whose side will dubiously taught me ice skates and all, and I introduced myself and told her I was looking for Burt Larson.
Why are you looking for Burt Larson, Marla?
Well, because people say he's disappeared.
I know he's a bookie. You don't have to protect him on that score, and I'm no cop.
Just want to know where he's gone.
Okay. I hear he made a real killing yesterday, the first one in his life.
I understand he's leaving town to retire.
Who's going to make book for you from now on?
Nobody. I never play the horses. My friends do.
Oh, friends like Lester Carney?
Lester. Oh, now we get down to business. You smell like you're working for a wife, Shamas.
Yes, again, sugar. I'm after Burt Larson, nothing else. That's why I want to talk to your friend. Where is he?
Lester Carney is no friend of mine.
You know, you should be smart enough to know you're just wasting your time with that pitch.
Look, bud, he was my friend, sure, but that's all off, as of an hour ago.
They're all through, washed up. I gave him the boot.
Why, do you run out of blank checks?
I ought to bust your shin wide open for that.
Keep those skates on the floor, honey.
Then skip the cracks. I threw them out because I got sick and tired of waiting.
He's kept me on the string for months with nothing but promises.
Said he hated his wife, but when it comes down to cases, he refused to leave her.
Why?
I don't know. He's got some hold over him, and he has nerve enough to break.
So I wrapped him up in a neat little bundle and sent him home. It was a mess.
I'll bet. Between you and Julia, he must be in a great frame of mind tonight.
That's his problem now, brother, not mine.
What is yours? How to keep your life on ice?
No, wise guy. For your information, I'm quitting this show.
I'm going to make a clean break all around.
Happy landings. But look, what's the connection, if any, between Lawson and Carney?
Why, Mr. Marlowe, I have no idea.
Isn't that wonderful? Okay, sugar, that's where we'll leave it for now.
But in making that clean break, be sure it's not your neck. I'll see you around.
I had nothing tangible to base it on, but as I left the igloo and drove back to Hollywood for some reason,
I kept thinking that Tommy Lawson was right, that his uncle was still in town and in some kind of trouble,
and I was sure that at least half of Carole King's story had been lies, but why, I couldn't figure.
And another idea hit me and hit me hard.
I turned onto Cherokee again and drove up to Carney's house at 8110 Parkton, went in.
There the vague hunch began to shape up like grim fact because the front door was wide open
and spilling a pale glow from the one light in the house, the hall lamp.
I saw the note propped under the lamp even before I went in. I left it where it was.
It said to whom it may concern, I have paid all my just debts, my affairs are in order,
and since life has been made intolerable for me, I have destroyed that which made it so, my wife, Julia.
Now there's nothing left, I shall dispose of myself, nor am I sorry, Lester Carney.
I looked up beyond the note and saw her lying at the edge of the circle of light from the lamp.
Julia had been strangled by a silk cord that was still embedded in her swollen throat.
I turned and started for the phone.
There we are.
Oh. So I got here a little too late, huh? Or is it too soon?
My wife's dead, so what's the difference? Better stand still because I'll shoot fast.
Who are you and what are you doing here?
Name's Marlowe and I assume you're Carney.
All right, I'm a private detective trying to find Burt Larson.
In the process, I got mixed up in your little fiasco from one end to the other.
Burt Larson. Just a cheap bookmaker.
He's one of the very few people who ever gave me a fair break.
Where is he, Carney? Do you know?
No. Does it matter?
Too bad you're bonded in here just now.
The man's gonna do what I've decided to do. It's a most personal, private affair.
It's your party. But maybe you'd better think it all over again, huh?
I've already thought it over. Thoroughly.
Turn around and walk through that door to the kitchen.
Go on.
Sure, sure.
All right. Stop there.
Now, open that door on your right.
This one?
Yes.
Years ago, that cellar was filled with the best wines the world had to offer.
What happens? You pull too many cocks?
Find out for yourself, Marlowe.
In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe. But first,
will Tyrone Power listen to Jack Benny's siren song?
Will Ty consent to portray CBS's The
First Man to the World?
No.
Then, what about the other two?
They're both very good actors.
They're both very good actors.
And they're both very good actors.
I mean, they're both very good actors.
They're both very good actors.
But they're both very good actors.
Will Ty consents to portray CBS's great Sunday night musician and lover in the movie The Life of Jack Benny?
Tune in tomorrow and find out.
No, there's never a question about the quality and quantity of comedy and sheer entertainment on CBS on Sunday night.
And remember, the Jack Benny show is heard on all of these CBS stations.
Now, with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe.
And tonight's story, The Kid on the Corner.
The Kid on the Corner
We're back at the house on a call to Lieutenant Matthews.
All right, Marlowe.
From your client to Julia Carney to the ice skater and back to Julia Carney, now, Dad, I follow.
But the why, I don't.
Where's the connection between the newsboy's uncle and this guy you say is on the way out, this, uh...
Lester Carney, Matthews. I don't know.
You don't know? You're not saying which, Phil?
Well, maybe it's a little of each.
Now, look, Lieutenant, I...
Just a second.
What is it, Marlowe?
Hold the wire, will you, Matthews?
Okay, but make it snappy, will you, Phil?
Killer on the loose isn't such a good idea, even if he's promised to knock himself off.
Might decide to take somebody else along.
Three thousand, four and a half North Los Moors.
What?
Three thousand, four and a half.
I can't hear you, Phil. What?
What? Oh, a piece of paper, Matthews, in a dead woman's hand.
Oh, now you're finding it.
It's got an address on it.
The same address that was on the back of the envelope.
Tell me his uncle left for him.
Well, this address could be the connection I asked you about.
Yeah.
Yeah, the hook between Uncle Bert and the Carney's.
Well, we'll get right over there and we'll take a look.
Matthews, wait a minute.
Let me try it alone first, will you?
I think it'll play better that way.
And keep the kid's uncle out of the police lineup that way.
Yeah.
Uh-uh, Marlo, I can't.
Now, wait a minute, Matthews, please.
I'm thinking of the kid.
Yeah, well, I'm...
OK.
Yeah, boy.
Just don't make it too long till I hear from you again.
Goodbye.
I knew that the three thousand block on North Rosemar wasn't even close to the Hollywood Hills,
which meant that the address couldn't be the dilettante photographer's studio
that the Carney's ex-maid had described.
And 20 minutes later, when I was out of my car and standing next to the doorbell mark,
three thousand four and a half, I knew something else,
because the name underneath was Carole King.
A light showed from someplace deep inside,
and my leaning on the doorbell only proved that it worked.
There was no answer at three thousand four and a half,
but three thousand four, the other twin to the duplex, was different.
It featured a sweet old lady who shattered the illusion the second she opened her mouth.
I suppose you're just another one of that King girl's friends, eh?
Why, do I look the type, Granny?
There is no type, young man. Miss Carole King entertains all sorts.
Oh, which might include a recent someone who's gray at the temples, short,
and maybe talks a lot about the ponies.
How would I know what a guest would talk about?
Oh, you've got to be kidding.
Look, honey, a woman's been murdered tonight.
Murdered? I knew it. I knew it.
She had to come to a bad end, but only yesterday I told him...
Hold it, Granny. Carole is not the one who's dead.
Oh.
Yeah.
Well, I'm glad.
Sticks out all over you. Now, look, what about that man?
Well, he was here about 30 minutes ago, just the two of them,
drinking that hard liquor like it was water and making enough noise
to raise the devil himself for farewell party, they called it.
Oh. Did you see him leave?
No, no. Henry made me come in then, and I...
What do I mean?
Yeah, I know what you mean. You missed it.
Okay, Granny, now look, how do we get in here without kicking the door down?
Come on, sweetheart, it's important. There may be a body inside.
A body? Oh, well, how awful. Here, here.
Over here, behind this ledge.
That's better.
It's always kept a spare key. Yes, yes, here it is.
But you do it. I'm too shaky.
You shouldn't be. Just think of tomorrow, Granny,
and the news you'll have for one and all.
The light switch is on your right there.
Uh-huh.
See anything?
No. How many rooms here?
Bedroom, kitchen and bath, aside from this.
Anything in there?
No.
You suspect foul play, all right, don't you?
The foulest? Don't let it worry you, because, hey, those photos there on the wall,
they're taken from Mulholland Drive, aren't they?
One by day, one by night, both in the same spot, the Hollywood Hills?
Sure, sure, that's where he has a studio, that Lester fellow.
Yeah, that Lester fellow.
Granny, do you know where it is? I mean, Mulholland Drive and where?
You know, that street runs for miles along the top of the mountain.
Well, of course I do. It was born and raised here in Los Angeles.
Granny, where? Mulholland and where?
Mulholland, the Laurel Canyon Boulevard, just south of the intersection.
Thank you, sweetheart, and goodbye.
Oh, wait, one moment now, if you please.
What's the matter?
What's your name, officer? I know my rights, your name and your division.
Granny, dear, I'm no cop.
Huh?
I said I'm no cop.
Oh, not a police officer. Well, then who are you?
Just a passerby, a stranger in the night. Good night, Granny.
All the way from Rossmoor to Sunset, then west to Laurel Canyon Boulevard,
I kept worrying about Tommy Larson and the uncle, who from where I stood,
needed at least worrying about no matter which way things played.
But when I was on the strip of McAdam that twists its way upward toward Mulholland Drive,
like a snake writhing from a long, long bellyache,
I forgot about both client and relatives alike,
because at the top and a little to the south, where Granny had said it would be,
was Lester Carney's studio all right, but burned to the ground.
Well, at least you'll act my way, joints, you'll go fast, huh, Chief?
Yeah, well, in 20 minutes on this one.
Hey, mister, where are you going?
Some of that metal stuff's still pretty hot. Who are you, with the law?
No, Chief, I'm a private detective named Marlow.
I was wondering if Lester Carney was caught in there. He owned this shack.
Yeah, I know. Was he a friend of yours?
No, it's strictly business. He's wanted for murder.
Yeah, he was wanted for murder, Phil. He was burned to a crisp in there.
Hello, Casey. Hello, Matthews.
Well, what's your guess? He started on purpose?
Suicides hardly ever bring themselves to death.
No, no, he probably took some sleeping pills or poison
and then a cigarette he left going did this, you know.
Hey, by the way, Phil, you saw Carney tonight.
You think you might recognize him? Might.
Yeah, he's over there. There isn't much.
Oh, see you, Casey. Right, Matthews.
Hey, Gerson. Hey, you tied Carney and this fire together kind of fast,
didn't you, Lieutenant? I just found out about this place.
Yeah, but you work alone, Marlow. I got help.
Oh, there it is. All that's left.
See anything? Yeah, that ring.
I noticed it earlier tonight. And the watch?
No, I'm not sure. I don't remember what kind...
Hey, Matthews. What is it?
What are you staring at, Phil? Come on over here.
See this little piece of metal? Yeah.
I think it's... Watch!
You know, fire makes things hot. Yeah, yeah.
Hot things burn and... Yeah.
Marlow, what is it? It's an idea.
Yeah, like what? Like this isn't suicide after all.
It's murder, Matthews. Come on, we gotta get to our phone quick.
Los Angeles International Airport Central Dispatch's office.
Look, Miss, this is important.
I'm calling for Detective Lieutenant Matthews at police headquarters.
What passenger flights have left in the last half hour?
Passenger flights? Yeah.
One to Dallas, Texas, the other to Chicago.
Both American Airlines.
Nothing out of the country?
Marlow, what are you getting at?
You know, sir, however, there is a flight scheduled to leave at 10.10.
Uh-huh. That's just five minutes from now.
That's going to Manila. Mercury Airways. Shall I connect you?
Yeah, hurry. Will you please? Yes, sir.
Hey, Matthews, this may be it. I'm glad for you.
Mercury Airways.
Central Dispatch's office, Mercury.
There's a call from the police here for you.
Go ahead, sir.
Look, your 10.10 flight from Manila, is it going out on schedule?
Yes, sir. The plane's standing by for the Towson Hill now.
Oh, then tell me this. Is there a passenger aboard named Burt Larson?
Larson? One moment, please, sir.
Hurry, will you?
This Larson killed Lester Conley. Then he's the one who...
Will you hold it, Matthews?
Yes, sir. We have a Burt Larson aboard.
Oh, good. Keep him there and don't let that plane get up in the air.
Do you hear? The man's wanted for murder.
But don't do anything else either. Just let him sit and wait for us. You got that?
Yes, sir. I understand.
Fine. We'll be there as soon as we can. Goodbye.
Come on, Matthews. It's your show from here on in, sirens included.
Okay, Marlow, okay. Enough.
So we're on our way to the airport. We're going to catch her.
Kill everything is great. But first, how do things add up?
Mooney, take it easy. Five seconds more or less. Never yet turned the trick.
Okay, Lieutenant. Sorry.
Were you saying something, Matthews?
Yeah, yeah. I'm saying I don't know which end is up, Phil.
Look, Lester Carney killed his wife, right?
Right.
Why?
Because he wanted her out of the way so that he and a cheap little monster named Carole King can live happily ever after.
Oh, divorce wouldn't do that for him, huh?
No, Mooney!
No, I don't think so. Probably because Julia Carney had a real tight grip on the purse strings.
Oh.
Maybe something more, like it's not very nice pass for a guest.
Yeah, yeah. But the purse strings, the money, that's where Burt Larson figures in, huh? A bookie with a claim.
Oh, no. Blackmail. Now, I figure Burt Larson knew about Carney and Carole King.
He must have stopped by once to pick up or pay off a bet at the right time.
Yeah, and from there what?
And from there, the team of Carole and Lester killed Lester's wife.
Yeah, which we've covered.
But not in detail. Now, listen. You see, after the murder, Lester planned to kill himself.
Yeah.
Or at least make it look like that.
Yeah.
A suicide note from Old Holland Studio burned down the works.
Yeah, yeah, and the body we found, Phil.
That's an added attraction. Burt Larson included in the last minute.
What? The wife and then the blackmailer?
Ah, you're getting it. Drunk while drinking at Carole's, where he thought that he was going to get paid off in money,
then up to Old Holland Drive, Ring Watch and Flames Added.
Oh, and then out here at the airport headed for Manila.
Lester Carney.
Uh-huh.
Hey, Mooney, we're getting close. You better kill the siren.
Okay, Marlon.
Now, Phil, how do you know all this? I mean, the switch, you know, what makes it so?
That piece of metal I burned my fingers on, Matthews, it was a tap from a shoe.
And Burt Larson war taps. The rest of it adds from there.
Yeah, including Carney at the airport now as Larson.
Sure, who'd be looking for a beat-up second-rate bookie who decided to leave town?
Aside from a nephew, that is.
Yeah, aside from a nephew who tried every place but the airport.
Uncle Burt couldn't stand planes. The brakes, Matthews.
Oh, here we are.
Yeah, just you and me and Mooney and a killer. Aren't you coming, Phil?
Uh, no, I think I'll wait here, Matthews. I-I-I got some thinking to do.
About the scum you sometimes meet in the night?
No. Not the kind of a kid I almost never meet in the night. See you.
Yeah. All right, come on, Mooney. Maybe our boy will make a break for it, I hope.
Lester Carney didn't make a break for it, and an hour later when they picked up Carole King, it was the same thing.
Each of them was surly, ugly, but they talked.
So when I finally left police headquarters, where try as he would for Tommy's sake,
Matthews had found it impossible to skip over Burt Larson's connection as a blackmailer.
It was pushing midnight, and I was dog-tired.
There was something worse than that when I was back on the corner near my office,
walking toward Tommy Larson, who was untying a stack of fresh newspapers.
Then the headline.
Read all about it. Hollywood killer nab, blackmailing bookie, jealous wife slain.
Hiya, kid.
Hiya, Mr. Marlowe.
Lieutenant Matthews tells me you had kind of a rough night.
Kinda? When'd you talk to him, Tommy?
After the first editions hit the street. I-I wanted to know if you were okay. The story didn't say.
Pub-publicity no good for your business, huh?
Not much. Look, kid, did the lieutenant say anything about you? I mean...
Oh, I'm gonna stay with a neighbor, friend of Uncle Burt's.
Oh.
He had friends, you know. He-he wasn't really bad at heart, Mr. Marlowe. Not really. I-I believe that.
So do I, Tommy. It was just mixed up.
Yeah. Sure he was. And you know why? The way he thought the world owed him a living, that's why.
And I couldn't tell him otherwise. He...
Excuse me, Mr. Marlowe. I-I gotta get going.
Thanks a lot. You were swell.
Sure.
Extra, extra, boogiein' babes slayin' in Hollywood Triangle. Two dead in Hollywood slayin'. Extra, extra, extra!
Extra, extra, extra!
There's nothing more pathetic than a kid, the first time he's really slapped down by life.
We, the older ones, the tired ones, learn to roll with a punch.
Because we've got time in our corner, watching us, counseling us, teaching us how to save ourselves,
so that for the final gong we're still on our feet.
But a kid...
A kid steps into life's arena expecting to find his opponents all he was taught to believe they would be.
But instead he finds the old one too, below the belt.
But if here he finds a good guy, and there a great girl, the going suddenly becomes not so rough.
The fight becomes worth it, if only to help the next generation of Tommies find their ring a little cleaner.
And the break's not quite so tough.
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character, star Gerald Moore,
and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Script is by Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt.
Featured in the cast were Gil Stratton, Jr., Virginia Gregg, Wilms Herbert, Joan Banks, and Vivi Janis.
Detective Lieutenant Matthews is played by Larry Dubkin.
The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Orrunt.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...
It started with laughter on a bright morning, in a battle over a chicken, and got better as it went along.
It could have lasted a lifetime, but it didn't.
It stopped on a gray morning, with a little wishbone broken.
Stay tuned now for Gangbusters, which follows immediately on most of these same CBS stations.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.