Up in the Air (1940) - full transcript
A none-too-popular (nor good) radio singer, Rita Wilson is murdered while singing on the air in a radio studio. Radio page boy, Frankie Ryan, and his janitor pal, Jeff, solve the mystery for the none-too-sharp police.
[music playing]
Oh, Frankie, where
have you been?
I got caught in a traffic jam.
[whistle]
Boy, look at that
new receptionist.
She's a honey.
You'd better forget about
her and put your uniform on.
You know how Mr. Carl
is about us being late.
Yeah.
Plenty of time, my
boy, plenty of time.
Now, if you'll excuse me?
Good morning.
-Good morning.
May I help you?
Yes, would you see if there's
any mail for me, please?
Perhaps, you'd better
tell me your name first.
Yes, of course, Ryan.
Frankie Ryan.
What's yours?
Anne Mason.
No, there's nothing
for you, Mr. Ryan.
All right, thank you.
Say, you're new
here, aren't you?
Uh-huh.
Just started this morning.
From out of town?
Uh-huh.
Well, which is it?
Singer or an actress?
Oh, singer.
I've always wanted
to be in radio,
and this is as close
as I could get.
But how do you know all this?
Oh, well, you see,
all our employees would
like to be on the air,
but, well a lot of them
are pretty good too.
But well, you see, most of them
just don't get an opportunity.
Singer, huh?
Say, has anybody
auditioned you yet?
No, not yet.
Well, we'll have to take
care of that right away.
Right away?
You mean right now?
Why, sure.
There's no time like
the present, you know.
Well, what about my job here?
Oh, well, that can wait.
This is important.
You see, the radio field is
always open to new talent,
and well, yours might be just
the voice we're looking for.
You're very kind, Mr.
Ryan, but I don't think I--
Oh, no, no.
I won't take no for an answer.
Come on.
Uh, Stella, you watch
the desk, will ya?
We're going to
audition Miss Mason.
You're what?
You heard me,
audition Miss Mason.
Right this way, Miss Mason.
Well, of all the--
Mr. Frankie, I can't.
I gotta the jitters
plum down to my toes.
Suppose that--
-Well, what's the matter, Jeff?
You're doing fine.
Now, come on, try it again.
Are you sure this is
all right, Mr. Ryan?
Of course, it's all
right, Miss Mason.
Jeff is just worried because
we're using this office instead
of the regular audition room.
It makes no
difference where we is.
If that Mr--
Jeff.
Are you ready, Miss Mason?
Yes.
Nervous?
A little.
Oh, well, that's only natural.
We're all that way at first.
All right, Jeff, go ahead.
well, good luck.
Go on, Jeff.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS, "BY
THE LOOKS OF THINGS"]
Wow, ain't that something.
Mr. Frankie.
Say, you have got a voice.
That was great.
Oh, thank you.
I'm glad you liked it.
Like it?
Why, say with a
voice like that,
you've got no business
behind a reception desk.
I can see you now, a star.
Your name--
We're all gonna be seeing stars
if we don't get out of here.
That Mr. Farrell--
I thought I'd find you here.
Up to your old
tricks again, huh?
This ain't my idea.
I know who's idea it is.
Oh, Mr. Farrell,
this is Miss Mason.
She's got a wonderful voice.
The greatest you've ever heard.
Well, how do you
do, Mr. Farrell?
How do you do?
And don't try to
evade the issue.
Why aren't you in uniform,
and why aren't you at work?
You took the words
right out of my mouth.
Well, we didn't mean
any harm, Mr. Farrell.
That's not the point.
One more shenanigan like
this, and you're gonna
find yourself out of a job.
-Yes, sir.
-Now, get busy.
See if you can find Miss Wilson.
She's holding up the rehearsal.
Yes, sir.
Right away.
I'm terribly
sorry, Mr. Farrell.
I didn't know.
It wasn't your
fault. I know that.
Well, then I won't lose my job?
Of course not.
Well, thank you, Mr. Farrell.
Not at all.
Mr. Farrell will call you
when he wishes to see you.
Anne, have Rita Wilson
report to Mr. Hastings
as soon as she comes in.
All right.
FRANKIE: Miss Wilson, please.
Oh, page.
Page, front please.
Oh, page, when Miss
Wilson comes in,
have her see Mr.
Hastings at once.
It's important.
Look, Anne, will
you forget about--
That will be all, page.
Nice work, honey.
You sure put him in his place.
Well, he needed a lesson.
But he is kinda cute.
Excuse me, Miss Wilson.
What is it?
Mr. Hastings would like to see
you in his office right away.
That's all for today.
Some other time.
And Mr. Farrell is waiting
for you in Studio A.
Tell Mr. Farrell
I'll see him as
soon as I talk to Mr. Hasting.
Yes, ma'am.
But you must be sensible, Rita.
I am being sensible, BJ,
Just the way I like to be.
Sure and at my expense.
Now, you listen to me Rita.
You listen to me, Sam Quigley.
I've been pushed around
by you two long enough.
Either I get my way, or I quit.
That's final.
But you can't do that.
Oh, can't I?
Well, you just watch me.
Now, now.
Let's be calm.
Let's not lose our
head's about this thing.
I'm surprised at you BJ,
getting her all upset like this.
Well, when she told--
Now, now, I'll
take over from here.
Now, Rita, why can't
you be a good girl--
I am a good girl.
Well, you know what I mean.
Give up this silly
idea of leaving
us for the Denti Glow people.
Haven't we made you happy here?
No.
We gave you a raise
in salary, didn't we?
So what?
So-- we pay you as much
as any sponsor can afford.
What do we have to
do to please you?
Why, hasn't Mr.
Hasting told you?
Told me what?
What is this, BJ?
Well, you won't like it, Sam.
She wants her salary doubled.
She-- doubled?
And that's only the beginning.
Look, Sam.
She wants the right to chose her
own producer, announcer comic--
Stop.
That's enough.
That's enough.
Are you out of your mind?
Nobody's worth that money.
The Denti Glow
people think I am.
You mean they agreed to that?
All I have to do is put
my name on the dotted line.
Now, Rita, you
can't do this to me.
I can't afford it.
Well, you better do it, Sam.
You'll be the laughing
stock of radio
if she signs with some
other toothpaste account.
You don't have to tell me that.
I know it.
Think it over, Sammy Boy.
And don't keep me
waiting too long,
or I might lose my patience and
sign with Denti Glow anyhow.
And you said you would
bring her into line.
Why didn't you do it?
After all, it's your program.
Yes, and costing
me $15,000 a week.
And for what?
It's got the best rating
of any show on the air.
And you've still got Rita.
Oh Rita.
Who cares about Rita?
There are plenty of
singers as good as her.
You can buy 'em
for a dime a dozen.
The woods are full of them.
But she's got the name.
Yeah, and the glamor.
Not for me, she hasn't.
But she has for 20
million radio listeners.
And if you think
I'm going to let
a rival toothpaste manufacturer
cash in on it, you're crazy.
All right.
All right, Sam.
I'll take care of it.
Now, don't worry.
I don't intend to.
How's that "Blue Moonlight"
number for Timex, Farrell?
Well, I don't know, Dick.
Mr. Farrell, I'm not
getting enough strings.
Oh, all right.
Dick, have the brass
hold down a little bit.
The fiddles are in the mud.
Hey, when do we start?
Just a minute, Ted.
And incidentally, while
you're on your feet,
how about digging up some new
gags for that script of yours.
What?
Go back on Joe Miller
after all these years?
Not a chance.
Look, if those gags were good
enough for my grandfather,
they're good enough for me.
What's the idea of rehearsing
the show without me?
What we're doing doesn't
concern you, Rita.
Doesn't concern me.
I like that.
The whole show is
built around me, that's
how little I'm concerned.
Would you mind stepping
outside with me a minute, Rita?
I want to rehearse your
lines with you, privately.
What's the matter with you
and the prima donna, Martin?
I thought you two
were pretty chummy.
Ah, forget it.
She looks through you like
you weren't even there.
I said, forget it.
OK.
Oh, hi, fellas.
Say listen, I got a
great new gag for you
for the Pearly Dance Show.
-OK.
Shoot.
All right, look, one
fella says to the other,
he says, you're so dumb I
bet you don't know what kind
of skin shoes are made out of.
Now get this, the
other guy says, no,
but banana skins would
make good slippers.
All right?
Huh?
All right.
You can't rule me
out for trying.
Page.
Mr. Farrell wants to see
you in Studio A, page.
Oh, look Anne, can't
you lay off of that.
I was only trying to help you.
Yes, you almost
helped me out of a job.
Look, I can explain
everything if you'll
only have lunch with me.
-Well, I--
Yes, sir.
I'll tell him right away.
On your horse, Frankie.
Yeah, OK.
Well-- well, how about it Anne?
Well, I'll think it over.
Aw swell.
Look, meet me in Studio
A as soon as you're off.
Hey, boss, we got a
terrific gag for you.
This I'll murder you.
Don't tell me it's the gag
where Rita Wilson breaks
her leg and has to be shot.
No gag could be that good.
Now get this, you're so dumb,
I bet you don't know what kind
of skin shoes is made out of.
No, but banana skins would
make pretty good slippers.
Ain't that a lark?
Just a gag for the snapper.
Hey, mister, you
can't go in there.
Why?
I'm not going to hurt nothing.
I know, but that's a
rehearsal and ain't nobody
allowed in there but
people in the show.
Well, maybe I'm on the show.
I know you ain't in the show.
I know everybody
that's in that show.
You can't go in there.
You can't--
Listen, Banjo Eyes, I'm
going through that door--
Mr. Frankie, tell this
gentleman he can't go in there.
Wait a minute, cowboy.
What seems to be the trouble.
Well, I ain't aiming to
horn in on nothing, buddy.
I'm from Olgalla, kind of a
stranger around these parts.
I ain't never seen a
big broadcast before.
Oh, well, this is
not a broadcast.
It's just a rehearsal.
Oh, that don't
make no difference,
just as long as I can see some
of them big stars at work.
You reckon I could kind
of go in there and watch?
Well, I reckon maybe you can.
But look, you got to sit
in the back and be quiet.
I won't make a sound.
All right, come on.
Hey, Jeff, you come
on with us too.
But Mr. Frankie, why me?
Well, I want to show
you how easy it is not
to be afraid of a microphone.
Oh, Mr. Frankie,
it ain't easy for me
not to be scared of nothing.
You know that.
Come on.
All right, I'll go.
Now listen, go right
there and sit down
and don't make any noise.
Say, has anybody
seen Mr. Farrell.
He sent for me.
He's out on the roof.
Tell him to hustle
it up, will you?
We got to time the Wilson spot.
-Right away.
There's no argument.
I simply want the
script changed.
That's impossible
and you know it.
We can't rewrite the script
at the last minute like this
simply because you don't
happen to like the comic.
I can't stand that man.
It's impossible for me to
sing under such circumstances.
Now look, Rita, as the producer
of this show, my reputation
is at stake and you're
not going to ruin it.
You'll sing all right,
and you'll like it.
[clears throat]
FRANKIE: Excuse me.
What do you want?
Well, Mr. Martin is ready
to time Miss Wilson's song.
OK.
All right, Bob.
I'll sing.
But you won't like it.
Frankie, stick around
till after rehearsal.
I want to talk to you.
Yes, sir.
All right, let's go.
Places, everybody.
Ready and waiting, Bob.
We'll pick it up on page 10 ,
the tag on the Wallace routine.
I've made some changes.
That'll be an improvement.
Quiet everybody.
We're timing this.
What's the idea
of running around--
Hello.
Hello.
Didn't take you very
long to get here.
My feet got hot, so I
turned the hose on them.
Oh, I get it.
Farrell, huh?
Don't be silly.
You're so dumb, I'll bet
you don't even know what kind
of skin shoes are made out of.
No, but banana skin's would
make pretty good slippers.
My gag.
Will you please lower this?
Stop the music.
What's the matter
with you, Rita?
Can't they wait
until I'm ready?
Oh.
Well, are you ready
now, Miss Wilson?
Yes.
All right.
Start it again.
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
HASTINGS: What happened?
Find the switch.
Turn on the lights.
[gunshot]
[rita screams]
Somebody get those lights on.
Something's happened to Rita.
She's been shot.
Somebody watch that door.
See that no one gets out.
Well, do something.
Don't just stand there.
Get a doctor.
Never mind a doctor.
You better get the coroner.
This girl's dead.
Dead?
Let me out of here.
Let me out of here.
Coroner's on his way up, Morty.
What do you make of it?
Whoever shot her knew his
business, that's a cinch.
Plugged straight
through the heart.
No powder burns.
You know that gun was
fired out there someplace.
Lights out too.
That's fancy shooting.
Yeah, too fancy.
All right, boys,
I won't need you.
You can beat it.
Are you sure nobody
left this studio
while the lights were out?
Why yes.
Or after they came back on?
You can see for yourself.
We're all here.
I don't see anything.
Who's we?
Why--
That's right, Lieutenant.
Nobody could get out of
here, even if they wanted to.
No?
Why not.
Well, you see the
doors lock automatically
from inside the control booth.
That's for rehearsing
and broadcast too.
It keeps out anybody--
Right now I'm only interested
in who they keep in.
Is he telling the truth?
What do you mean am
I telling the truth?
I'm asking him.
All right.
He's right.
Well, in that case, the
murderer is still in this room.
Oh, that's preposterous.
These are radio people.
Broadcasting is sacred to them.
Why they wouldn't think--
Of course, they wouldn't.
I'm stupid not to
have realized that.
It was suicide.
When nobody was looking, she
tiptoed over and switched out
the lights, shot herself,
swallowed the gun,
and then trotted right
back there to die.
That's not what I meant.
Well, if Rita Wilson didn't
swallow the gun, who did?
Just hold your horses, bud.
I'm coming to that.
Delaney, find that gun.
It's around here somewheres.
OK.
FRANKIE: 10 to 1,
you don't find it.
No?
Tell me, why not?
Well, because I've looked the
place over from top to bottom
before you got here.
And of course, you
searched everybody too.
Well, no.
I-- I guess I forgot that,
but-- holy smoke, the cowboy.
What cowboy?
Tex, the singing cowboy.
He might carry a gun.
Hey-- hey,
Lieutenant, he's gone.
Oh, he won't get far.
Wait here, Delaney.
Come on, Jeff.
Excuse me, y'all, please.
Wait a minute.
If he used the elevator,
we'll take the stairway
and cut him off.
-OK.
Let's go.
Is this a routine?
You should write
up a funnier one.
Hey, Farrell.
Quote.
If you were a smart
producer, you'd hook this up
and shoot it out over the air.
The top [inaudible] program to
come out of this madhouse yet.
Unquote.
You must have been
out of your mind.
What-- what do you mean?
You know what I mean.
-But I didn't--
-Shh.
Keep your voice down.
You're safe.
Hey, Miss, did a
cowboy just leave here?
Why, yes, Tex Martin.
He just walked out.
There he goes.
Hey, come back here.
[police siren]
You shouldn't have
done that, mister.
You're liable to hurt
somebody doing that.
Where do you
think you're going?
Back to the hotel, I reckon.
Oh, you was, eh?
Well, sure, I didn't
figure that killing
was any of my business.
Brother, you
don't know how much
that killing is your business.
There's nothing on him, Marty.
There's nothing here, boss.
All right, what
did you do with it?
Do with what?
You know, the gun, the one
you killed Rita Wilson with.
Oh, you've got me all wrong.
I don't pack no gun.
Them things are dangerous.
Suppose somebody got killed?
Somebody did get killed.
Well, see what I mean?
ABC regrets to announce that
the Pearl-a-Dent program,
usually on the air at this
time, will not be heard tonight.
An unfortunate
incident this afternoon
took the life of
Miss Rita Wilson,
knows to millions as
the Pearl-a-Dent Girl.
Miss Wilson was shot down
by an unknown assailant
during a studio rehearsal.
[jazz music plays]
FRANKIE: Oh, that's fine Jeff,
but can't use that on the radio
JEFF: No?
FRANKIE: No.
You see we have to--
oh, hello, Mr. Farrell.
Oh, I was afraid
you'd gone home.
No.
That cop Marty
help everybody up.
You want to see me?
Yes.
I'd like to talk
to you, Frankie.
Oh.
Oh, I get it.
I'm fired, huh?
Excuse me, Mr.
Farrell, I'll see you
all later, if you don't mind.
No, on the contrary, I-- I
came to ask a favor of you,
if you don't mind.
Well, sure.
Go ahead.
Shoot.
Well, you overheard
Miss Wilson and me
having a bit of an argument
this afternoon before the--
That's right.
Well, it-- it didn't really
mean anything, Frankie.
As a matter of fact,
there was nothing to it,
but you can understand
how that sort of thing
might look if taken
in the wrong light.
Yeah, sure.
I understand you.
You mean, it might get
you in a mess, huh?
Yes.
There'd be a lot of
embarrassing questions
and, well, you realize that
with my reputation as a producer
I couldn't afford to.
Oh.
I'm way ahead of you.
You mean you want me
to keep my mouth shut.
Yeah.
Yeah, that's right.
It's all right with me.
Doesn't mean anything to me.
I knew you'd see
it the right way.
Thanks a million, Frankie.
I won't forget it.
Oh, Mr. Farrell.
Yes?
Say, who you going to get
to fill Rita Wilson's spot?
Well, I-- I hadn't
thought about it.
It's a little early for
that, don't you think?
Yeah, but look, when
you do think about it,
will you keep Anne
Mason in mind?
She's got a wonderful voice.
Certainly.
Thanks for reminding me.
As her to come and see me.
We'll talk about it.
-Right.
-Good night.
Good night.
I'm sure glad you
didn't come out first.
Say, what that Mr.
Farrell man want?
Is you in trouble again?
-No.
No.
He just invited me over to his
house for a game of checkers.
Checkers?
Checkers?
Now, ain't that something.
Mr. Frankie, one of these days
you going to try me too far.
Well, look, pull yourself
together, will you?
We've got a lot of work to do.
I want to go over this
knew routine of ours.
But Mr. Frankie, between me
working here in this studio
all day and running around
all night helping you,
well, I ain't getting no sleep.
Well, a growing boy like
you doesn't need any.
I know.
But just growing
wears me to a frazzle.
Look, you got your script?
-Oh, I got that right here.
-OK.
I got to get
something for a mic.
Mic?
Does you have to?
Are you still scared
of a microphone?
Every time I see one of
them things I get the jitters
all inside of myself.
Well, look, we gotta
break you of that.
Now, look at that microphone.
That ain't no microphone.
That's a mop.
I know.
I know.
But look, can't you
pretend it's a mic?
Now, go on, look at it.
Now, you still scared?
Oh, Mr. Frankie,
how do you expect
for me to be afraid of
something that's closer to me
then my own brother?
Yeah, I never thought of that.
Wait a minute, I got an idea.
Uh oh, I don't like
to looks in your eyes
when you say you got an idea.
That means trouble.
I got just the thing.
Uh oh, whatever it is,
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to
do it, Mr. Frankie.
No sir, I ain't going to do
it, because right there is
where Miss Wilson got killed.
-Quiet down, will you, Jeff?
What do you want to
do, wake the dead?
Wake the dead?
Mr. Frankie, ain't I
got enough on my mind
without you putting
ideas in my head?
Jeff, do you mean to
tell me you're actually
afraid of Rita Wilson's ghost?
It ain't the ghost, it's the
person that made her a ghost.
That's what's bothering me.
Boy, you're terrific.
Come on, let's
rehearse this thing.
We want to get out of
here sometime tonight.
Go ahead.
Mr. Frankie, I've
been thinking.
Uh oh.
I don't think I want to be--
FRANKIE: Now, wait
a minute, Jeff.
There's nothing the
matter with you,
you're just afraid
of that microphone.
That's all.
-That ain't all.
Where's--
Well, now look, you want
to be a success, don't you?
You don't want to be a
janitor all your life.
Well, at least I get
paid for being a janitor.
Well, sure you get paid.
Yeah but look, if you're on the
radio, think of the glamour.
People clamoring for your--
Now-- now wait a
minute, Mr. Frankie, that
lady Miss Wilson had glamour.
Look at her now.
That work is too dangerous.
You tell me something,
will you, Jeff?
What would you do if you didn't
have anything to be scared of?
What I would--
Never mind.
Look, let's rehearse this thing.
We want to go home
sometime tonight.
Well, if I've got to,
I've just got to do it.
Well then start
reading, will you?
Mr. Frankie, it's
your first line.
Oh.
Yeah, that's right.
All right, you ready?
No, I'm ready.
Morning Rastis, How you feel?
Morning, Moe.
I sick.
Sick?
Boy, you is always
complaining about--
Mr. Frankie.
You don't expect me to
speak in no dialect, do you?
No, no.
You read yours just plain.
You're the straight man.
Oh.
Now that's different.
Come on now, let's start again.
Morning, Rastis, how you feel?
Morning, Moe.
I-- I sick.
Sick?
Boy, you is always
complaining about--
Mr. Frankie, it's a
little hot in here.
Let's go outside, huh?
Yeah, it is kind of warm.
No, wait a minute.
I'll fix the ventilator.
Oh.
No wonder it won't work.
Hey, Jeff, come here, quick.
Yes sir.
Look in here.
Goodness, is that a gun?
Yeah.
Must be the one that
killed Rita Wilson.
Pretty smart, huh?
It was probably put in there
while the lights were out.
A gun and me ain't got no
business in the same room.
I'll see you.
Uh oh.
Hey, Jeff, wait a minute.
Hold the phone.
What are you two doing in here?
Well, we were just--
What's that?
The gun you've
been looking for.
Oh, trying to hide it, eh?
Ah, now, wait a minute.
You certainly live up your
reputation as a cop, don't you?
You suspect everybody.
It's my business
suspecting people.
Where did you find it?
Come on over here
and I'll show you.
Right there in that ventilator.
Must have been put
there after the murder.
Ah, no wonder we
couldn't find it.
How do we know you
didn't put it there?
Yeah.
How do we know he
didn't sneak back here
tonight and try to
grab it off when
you thought nobody was around?
We caught you right
in the act, didn't we?
Now wait a minute.
Settle down.
Where do you get that stuff?
It's a good thing you used
your head and picked this gun up
with your handkerchief, because
if your fingerprints are
on it--
-And what if they are?
Now, wait a minute now.
Where y'all going to take us?
-Police headquarters.
What for?
We didn't do nothing.
Look at that.
And that.
Well, we've got let you go.
Yep, it wasn't
your fingerprints.
Well, don't have to look
so disappointed about it.
Mr. Lieutenant, do that
mean that we is free again?
Did we ain't murder?
Well, to an extent, yes.
But don't leave town.
No, sir.
Well, what makes you think
we'd want to leave town?
Well, you've nosed out
all the other answers.
Try dipping your
beak into that one.
Now, listen, Marty.
Don't call me--
All right, all right.
Lieutenant.
Come on.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Mr. Waters in studio B, please.
Oh, hello, Tex.
Hiya.
FRANKIE: Paging Mr. Waters.
Well, good morning, Tex.
Morning, Miss Anne.
My you look happy.
Get some good news?
I sure did.
Mr. Farrell's going to let me
audition for him this morning.
Oh Tex, that's wonderful.
It's about time
you had a chance.
You've waited long enough.
Well, we both have, Miss Anne.
Maybe you'll be next.
Well, I hope so.
Good luck, Tex.
Ah, thank you.
Well, that cowboy don't
waste any time, does he?
What do you mean?
Well, he's always
hanging around
you, always talking to you.
What's he want, anyhow?
I think that's none
of your business.
Oh, well pardon me.
But if you must know, he was
telling me about his audition.
Audition?
For who, Farrell?
Yes, Page.
Mr. Farrell is going to
hear him this morning.
Oh, Mr. Farrell, is it?
Well, I guess that
puts me in my place.
Well, you asked for it.
Yeah.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Any mail for us, beautiful?
Oh, I'll see.
Oh, hello, Mr. Pringle.
Listen, I got another
great gag for you.
Stow it, kid.
We ain't buying gags anymore.
We're off the air.
Off the air?
Yeah, Wallace
quit this morning.
But he couldn't--
Ah, but he did.
And now we're on relief.
Ain't that cute?
Gee, I'm sorry.
But look--
Watch your job, kid.
We might start angling for it.
No mail, Mr. Pringle.
Thanks.
So long.
Good luck.
Hey Anne, did you hear that?
Well, what about it?
What about it?
That means they need a new
comic to the Pearly Dent Show,
doesn't it?
-Yes.
-Well?
Well what?
Frankie, not you.
Well, who else?
Why not?
Look, Jeff and I have got a
swell comedy act worked up.
Does Mr. Farrell
know about this?
Well, no, but don't you worry.
It's in the bag.
Well, just make sure you
don't wind up in the bag.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Say is he kidding?
[MUSIC - GORDON JONES "OH, BURY
ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE"]
Nice, cheerful little diddy.
Yeah.
Now I know why they
call them lone cowboys.
Heard enough?
Plenty.
[MUSIC - GORDON JONES "OH, BURY
ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE"]
That'll do, Mr. Barton.
Thank you very much.
Well, I'm not through yet.
I got a lot more to do.
Well, we've heard
all that we require.
We'll let you know
if we can use you.
How much more of this torture?
One more coming up.
Presenting the two
Blackbirds, Rastis and Moe.
Hey, what goes on here?
Morning, Rastis, how's you all?
Morning, Moe.
I sick.
Boy, you is always
complaining about something
that you ain't even
got and couldn't
have it if you did have it.
Boy, I got it.
You got what?
A kind of a feeling
that starts--
I had that once.
You mean the kind of a
feeling of starts in the head
and walks around--
That's it.
Yeah?
What you doing for it?
Well, I seen myself a doctor
and he give me a bottle of--
Don't take them,
they'll kill you.
Now, why don't you try--
I tried two boxes of them.
They didn't do me no good.
Then why don't you
go see a doctor--
That quack?
I had him.
You see, he's one of
these kind of doctors--
Yeah, yeah I know I know.
Well look, in that case, what
you need is a cutting doctor.
You know, a sturgeon?
A man who can cooperate on yous.
You know, one that takes a
knife and he cuts you here--
I had mine taken out last year.
Oh, you did, huh?
Well look, what
else do you think
maybe could be wrong with you?
Well, you see, I
thought maybe it was--
Oh no, no, no, no.
You all wrong.
Couldn't be that.
Now look, why don't you try
some of them pills, you know,
that my brother took when
he was suffering from what
he caught when he was--
Was he out there?
I thought all the time
he was going to go--
Yeah, he did.
But he done come back.
What's he doing now?
Well, you see,
he's working again.
Where?
Well, he's got a job.
And boy, do you know
he's making a salary of--
That ain't no money at all.
Yeah, I know, and
that poor devil,
he's fixing to get married.
Look here, Mr. Frankie.
You've got to talk slower if
you want me to keep up with you.
I can't talk that
fast, Mr. Frankie.
Who is he going to marry?
Well, don't you know?
He's going to marry
the daughter of--
She's a nice girl.
All right.
Break it up, you two.
What's the matter, boss?
I thought we was
doing pretty fine.
You know better then to
try a stunt like this.
Well now, just a
minute, Mr. Farrell--
You think I wouldn't recognize
you behind this stuff?
Don't touch me.
I don't rub off.
Ah, Frankie.
This is taking things
a little too far.
After all, I agreed
one audition, but not--
Yeah, but Mr.-- I
mean, Mr. Farrell,
we knew you needed two new
comics for the Pearl-a-Dent
Show, so we just thought that--
Uh oh.
Here come that man again.
Sorry to bust in like this.
Not at all.
Were you-- were
you looking for me?
Tex Barton.
They told me he was here.
Well, uh, he just
left here, Lieutenant.
Who's he?
Who's who?
You.
Frankie, don't you remember?
What happened to you?
Fall in a coal bin?
Yeah.
I think I did.
You should have
passed him in the hall.
He must be in the
building somewhere.
Thanks.
Hey Lieutenant, wait a minute!
Hey, Marty.
My name's Lieutenant Phillips.
Don't forget that.
Yeah, OK.
What did you want
with Tex Barton?
Were those his
fingerprints on the gun?
Don't know yet,
but it was his gun.
We got a wire back
on the serial number.
Well-- well then
he's the killer.
Well, you can't tell.
He did time back in Cheyenne.
Used the same gun in a shooting
scrape over some woman.
What's her name, Delaney?
Wharton, Gladys Wharton.
Yeah, that's it.
Oh.
Thanks a lot, Marty.
I mean Lieutenant.
Come on, Delaney.
Wharton, Gladys Wharton.
Oh, Jeff, have
you seen Frankie?
Yessum, there he is.
-That?
-Yes.
And it's not funny.
Here Frankie.
Take these contacts over
to Mr. Hastings office
and wait for an OK.
Right.
Come on, Jeff.
Say, now's a good time to
sell our act to Mr. Hastings.
Yeah, but we've
already been beat
to him once by Mr. Farrell.
Oh, quit beefing.
Come on.
Wonder what this is all about.
I don't know, but this
ain't no place for me.
Come here.
Pull yourself together.
Something's all wrong.
Where's Mr. Hastings?
Don't look at me.
I ain't got him.
Come on, Jeff.
Let's take a look around.
Tex Barton.
Jeff, he's dead.
I'm glad you left
that door open.
We interrupt this program to
bring you a special bulletin.
Death once again
stalked the halls
of amalgamated
broadcasting company
today, striking down Tex
Barton, cowboy troubadours.
Detective Lieutenant
Marty Phillips,
in charge of the investigation,
believes the crime
to be the work of the
mysterious assailant who
less than 24 hours before
took the life of Rita Wilson,
beautiful ABC singing star.
What bothers me is why in
an institution of this size,
nobody heard the shot
when gun was fired.
Oh well, that's
easy, Lieutenant.
Yeah, with you
everything is easy.
Well you see, all these
rooms are soundproof.
Well, that could
account for it.
Which reminds me, how does it
happen you're always on deck
every time a murder's
committed around here?
Well, coincidence I guess.
Yeah?
Well, men have been
convicted and hung
on the strength of coincidence.
Don't forget that.
And you say you
two were auditioning
at the time of the murder?
Yes.
That's right.
And you claim you were in
his office across the street
when it happened?
Yes.
Yes I was.
That's right.
We were looking
over some contracts.
I can prove it.
That leaves you, Ms. Mason.
I know.
I know.
You were listening to the
Swing Parade broadcast.
But I--
And you can prove it.
Where were you?
I-- I was in the
coincident with Mr. Frankie.
Well, if this ain't as neat
a set of alibies as I've
ever heard.
Well, it'll be off
and now you can go.
But don't anybody
leave this building
without checking with me first.
And don't try anything funny.
And that goes double for you.
Yes sir.
Oh, Frankie.
Look, you-- you won't
say anything about--
Oh no.
Don't worry about that.
Oh fine.
But listen, don't you
forget Anne's audition.
Oh that's right.
I'll tell you what, you--
you have in the audition room
in half an hour and
I'll hear her then.
That's the stuff.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS
"SOMEHOW OR OTHER"]
Not bad.
Very good.
Well, she's all right.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS
"SOMEHOW OR OTHER"]
Was I all right?
Honey, you can
sing for me anytime.
Quigley doesn't sign
you up, he's crazy.
Crazy, am I?
Like a fox.
That girl is great.
I'm going to sign her up.
Oh but, Sam she's a green kid.
She's had no experience.
Well, that's what
I like about her.
Get her in here.
OK.
Oh, gee, Anne.
That was marvelous.
You were great.
You sure was, Ms. Anne.
You sing that like
nobody's business.
Oh, I hope so.
You think Mr.
Farrell will like it?
Well, how can he
help but like it?
Well, Anne, you're in.
You made it.
-Really?
Yes.
Mr. Hastings just called.
What did I tell you?
He and Mr. Quigley would like
to see you in the clan's room
right away.
-Well, come on.
What are we waiting for?
Hey, where do you
think you're going?
Well, with Anne.
Oh, well what?
I'm her agent.
She's the greatest
discovery I've ever had.
Yes, I know, Frankie.
But under the circumstances,
don't you think
you'd better me handle it?
Oh, but gee, Mr. Farrell--
I think maybe he's
right, Frankie.
Oh.
Yeah sure.
OK.
Good luck.
I guess we got the brush off.
how do you like that?
How do you like that?
But Mr. Frankie.
Wait.
How do you like that?
I arranged for the whole
audition, I get her all set.
What happens to me,
yeah, I'm a smart guy.
I wind up behind the eight-ball.
Is you talking about me?
No.
Jeff, I'm through with women.
Absolutely through with
them, especially singers.
That's the best
idea you had yet.
Cause singers don't last
long on this network.
No, sir.
You said it.
But you know, Jeff, gee I'd hate
to see anything happen to Anne.
I mean like--
Like what happened to
Miss Wilson and Mr. Tex?
Yeah.
You know, somebody has
to catch those killers.
Looks like it's going
to have to be us.
Yeah, not so heavy on that us.
You go find them killers.
Them killers ain't finding
me, and I ain't giving them
no help by finding them first.
Jeff.
I've got it.
We've got a date.
I got a date right here with
a broom and I'm gonna keep it.
No, you haven't.
Go on, change your clothes.
Does I has too?
Go on and change your clothes.
Am I going to have
trouble with you?
Changing clothes, sir.
Stella, have those
cops left yet?
Well, I haven't
seen them, Frankie.
Look, have you got Tex
Barton's home address there?
Sure.
Give it to me, will ya?
Well, now, look, Frankie,
this isn't another one
of your brain storms?
-Never mind that.
This is an important.
Well, it's Room 203
at the Walsh Hotel.
Swell.
Thanks a lot.
Come on.
Oh my goodness.
Tex killed in Mr.
Hastings office.
It just don't make sense.
Don't none of it
make no sense to me.
Well, if Tex did kill Rita,
who killed Tex and why?
Why ask me riddles,
Mr. Frankie?
Why should I know?
I was just thinking out loud.
Uh oh.
Say, you don't suppose
Mr. Hastings could have
killed Tex or Rita, do you?
I don't think so, cause Mr.
Hasting is an awful nice man.
Yeah, that's the
way I had it figured,
but I don;t know, the finger
seems to point to him.
But Mr. Frankie, If you don't
be careful, the finger's gonna
be pointing at you, and--
If I could only get my
hands of one good clue.
Like what, for instance?
Like getting a
line on that girl
that Tex was mixed
up with in Cheyenne.
What was her name?
Gladys Wharton.
I don't know the lady.
Well, I'd like to.
I think she's the answer to
the whole shooting match.
That's one answer I
don't want to know.
Well, if my hunch is right,
we're about to find out.
Here it is here.
[WHISPERING] Uh, Mr. FRankie--
Sh.
203.
This is it.
If you ask me, we's it.
There's nobody in.
How can you expect Mr. Tex
to be home if he's dead?
I wasn't thinking
of Tex, stupid.
Did it ever occur
to you that somebody
else might have the same idea?
But if anybody
else ain't got it,
the idea must not be no good.
I'm going.
Now, wait a minute.
This is the break
I've been waiting for.
We're going in.
Ain't that trespassing?
And besides, ain't
the door locked?
Yeah, but this skeleton
key is the answer to that.
You always got the
answer to everything.
Come on
Mr. Frankie, you got me in
here, now what's I gonna do?
Now, look, get busy.
If I know Marty Phillips,
he won't be long in finding
this place himself.
You examine the bed.
I'm gonna look
through the drawers.
Yes, sir.
You never can tell
what you'll find.
Might be something big.
Looky here.
Looky here.
Tex's suitcase.
Boy, let me at it.
Oh, them ain't
nothing but papers.
What did you expect
to find, a dead body?
Well, wouldn't nothing
surprise me lately the way
we been going.
I done got plum scared to
open my dinner bucket anymore.
Hey, listen, if these papers
are what I think they are,
it's better than finding gold.
Mr. Frankie, you sure got
a funny sense of value.
Looky here.
Now, ain't that something?
Anne's picture.
Then my eyes didn't
fool me after all.
Look at that.
A telegram too.
I can't believe it.
Yet they tie up, the
picture, the telegram,
she must be Gladys Wharton.
Well, you don't mean to say
she killed that cowboy, do you?
Oh, Jeff, I don't
know what to think.
Looks bad.
Look, don't you say anything
to anybody, not even Anne.
Oh, you know me.
You know, if she
did-- well, if she did,
she must have had a good reason.
You know, Jeff, we've
got to help her.
Yes,sir.
Greetings, kiddies.
I know it was gonna happen.
I know it.
I suppose this is
a coincidence too?
Well, no, not exactly.
You see, we kind of
liked Tex so we thought
we'd come up in his room
and gather up the things
and, well, send them home.
Sure.
I know.
A very noble gesture.
You wanted to help
him so much you
tore his room apart doing it.
It's robbery, all right, Marty.
No doubt about it.
It's as plain as the
nose on you face.
But-- uh.
Marvelous, Delaney.
Sometimes I wonder
what I'd do without you
around to tell me these things.
Yes, sir.
All right, kids, spill it.
What did you find?
We didn't find anything.
I just thought that--
Well, suppose you start
thinking of a nice cozy room
behind bars,
because that's where
you're going to wind up if
you don't start talking fast.
Well, what makes you
think we found anything?
That look on your face, like
the cat that ate the canary.
You ain't kidding nobody.
OK.
You win, Marty.
And my name's Lieutenant
Phillips, not Marty.
Oh, holding back evidence, eh?
Anne Mason.
And a telegram from
Gladys Wharton.
Very interesting.
You wouldn't be trying to
protect your little girlfriend
now, would ya?
Well, uh, no.
That's my picture.
She gave it to me.
Get away.
This belongs to the state now.
In the case of the People
versus Gladys Wharton.
What do you mean?
I mean, for my money, Anne
Mason murdered Tex Barton.
Bring them along, Delaney.
Hey, wait a minute, you
know, Jeff and I didn't
look this place over very good.
Aren't you gonna look around and
see if we overlooked anything?
Yeah.
I think you got something there.
They locked us in.
Break it open.
Open this door!
Anne, Anne, wait a minute.
Oh, Frankie, I've got
the most wonderful news.
Never mind that.
Listen, I got to talking
to you right away.
Come on out on the roof.
Go on, Jeff.
Well, what's the
matter, Frankie?
What's wrong?
-Everything's wrong.
Marty's wise to
the whole shebang.
Wise to what?
I don't understand.
That picture and the
telegram, he found them.
What picture?
What telegram?
Oh, you know, Anne, the
picture you gave Tex Barton.
Oh, that.
Oh, that?
Listen, you're on a spot.
Oh, don't be silly.
I knew Tex before.
He'd work with some of
the smaller radio stations
and when he heard
I was out of a job,
why he took my picture around.
Well, look, that's
all right with me,
but you're going to have a hard
time making Marty believe it.
Don't you realize, he
thinks you killed Tex.
And he's coming up here to
make an arrest right now.
Well, that's awful.
Well, I can't believe it.
You better believe it,
because he's not fooling.
He sure ain't, Miss Anne.
But my contract,
I just signed it.
Forget about your contract.
The best thing for you to do
is to get out of here as quick
as you can.
Find a place to hide--
And I know just the place.
The county jail.
You're under arrest, Miss Mason.
Or should I Wharton?
And I'm taking you
along with her.
Me?
What for?
For locking me in that room.
OK, Marty, we'll go with ya.
But you're sure gonna
look like a chump
when the papers tell how we
made a monkey out of you.
Come on.
Don't worry, Ann, we'll do
everything we can for ya.
Now, there's a guy that's a
credit to the police force.
It ain't fair, Mr. Frankie.
Here it is way past my dinner
time and I'm starving to death
and there you is reading a book.
All right, be quiet, will ya?
I'll be through in a minute.
That's what I've been
telling my stomach
but it keeps on arguing.
Here's one, look.
Robert Farrell, radio
producer, formally in New York.
Well, no Cheyenne.
He's out.
No, he ain't.
I just seen him come in.
Look, look at this one.
BJ Hastings, radio executive,
formally owner of WRW
in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Jeff, that's it.
We've got it.
You mean, Mr.
Hastings is the killer?
Well, he could be, but
gee, it's hard to believe.
Look, if Anne knew
him in Cheyenne,
then she's in on the whole deal.
Now, of we could only talk
to her, and find out--
My goodness, she is the killer.
No, Anne, couldn't
kill anybody.
No?
She-- well, she's not the type.
Where we going?
To see Anne.
Down to the jailhouse?
Well, certainly.
Oh, Mr. Frankie, this is
one summer that I thought
I was gonna get some fresh air.
You'll get plenty of it.
Come on.
OK.
Goodbye.
Hiya, Marty.
How many times have
I got to tell you
my name is Lieutenant Phillips?
And if you're looking for
any clues, I ain't got any.
You're telling me.
I told you-- I'm sorry,
Marty, they slipped past me.
It's all right, Delaney.
All right, kid, get
it off your chest.
Well, it's nothing, I, uh,
just wanted to see Anne.
What makes you think
I'd let you see her?
Well, as a taxpayer,
it's my privilege.
Hey, wait a minute,
you don't pay taxes.
Well, I will someday.
So couldn't I see
her now on account?
Delaney.
Wait a minute.
You can't throw me out.
I gotta right to see Anne.
Well, she ain't here.
She ain't here?
We released her on
bail a half an hour ago.
You released her on bail?
We released her on bail.
Well, who did it?
Who did it, Marty?
Who got her out?
Even if I knew, I
wouldn't tell you.
You mean, you don't know?
The deal was handled by
Max Creager, a bail broker.
Wouldn't give his client's name.
He wouldn't, huh?
Marty, do you realize
what this means?
It means I've got too
much on my mind right now
to worry about it.
Now, will ya please--
Now, look, Anne
didn't kill Tex,
and if she is Gladys
Wharton, she knows too much.
So the killer gets her out
of jail so he can murder her.
Maybe he's got
something there, Marty.
Yeah, I kno-- say,
if that's straight,
that girl's life means less
with every tick of the clock.
We gotta find her.
Listen, there's a chance she
might have gone to the studio.
She's supposed to be on
the Pearl-a-Dent hour.
Well, it's a long
one, but we'll try it.
Say, Marty, you know,
I've been thinking.
-Uh-oh.
-Well, stop it.
Every time you start to
think, I got a headache.
You get a headache?
Every time he
starts to thinking,
I get a nervous concussion.
Quiet down, Jeff.
Look, Marty, I don't think
Anne is Gladys Wharton.
No, then who is?
Well, how about Rita Wilson?
No, you're crazy.
We looked up Anne
Mason's record.
She hails from a
little town about
50 miles outside of Cheyenne.
Yeah?
I didn't know that.
Oh, nice of you to admit it.
Say, look, did you
know that Mr. Hastings
comes from down there too?
Where did you find that out?
Oh, I looked it up
in the radio yearbook.
He used to own a
station down there.
Them maybe he's the
one we're looking for.
I don't know who
we're looking for.
This case gets more mixed up
every time I blink my eyes.
How about it, Marty?
How about what?
How about Mr. Hastings?
How about shutting
up so I can think?
Step on it, Delaney.
Right.
Excuse me, miss, I,uh--
Stella, have you seen Anne?
Why, yes, She came in a
minute ago with Mr. Farrell.
Farrell?
That's all I want to know.
Farrell, I want to talk to you.
Oh, hello, Lieutenant.
You still on the job?
What have you done with Anne?
I haven't seen her.
The girl at the desk said you
come in with her a while ago.
She must be confused.
I think you're the one
that's confused, mister.
Now, are you going to
tell us where she is?
Well, I-- yes, I
did come in with her,
but I don't know
where she is now.
That's a fact.
MARTY: It better be.
It is, and now, if you
gentlemen will excuse me.
the Pearl-a-Dent show goes
on in half an hour and I--
Oh, no, you don't.
You're staying
right here with me.
What about Mr. Hastings?
Will you get that
idea out of your head?
Now, I'm getting to the
bottom of this thing,
once and for all.
Delaney, round up everybody and
have them in the client's room
in 15 minutes.
And that goes for you too.
Yes, sir.
Jeff--
Uh oh.
What's been the matter with me?
That's just what I've
been trying of figure out.
The teletype.
I should have thought
of that a long time ago.
Well, here's hoping it works.
Here's hoping we
don't get caught.
We've got them.
It's coming through.
You don't say so.
Mr. Frankie, you
sure is a genius.
Yeah, Jeff, Tex used to do a
singing act with a blond girl
named Gladys Wharton.
Jeff, it's beginning to click.
Rita Wilson used to be a blond.
What do you know about that?
Says they both
left town hurriedly
after a shooting scrape
with some radio executive.
Who was the radio executive?
It's gone dead, and just
when we were going to find
out something important.
You don't think a
ghost did that, do ya?
No.
That machine went
off too conveniently.
Say, this one's connected with
the machine in the newsroom,
isn't it?
I wonder.
You wait here, Jeff.
Alone?
With all these ghosts?
Mr. Frankie--
Hey, where the fire?
Listen, I'm on the
trail of something hot.
Come on, follow me.
Somebody slugged him.
Jeff?
Jeff, wake up.
Is that where I think I is?
Or is that where I hope I am?
Oh, my head.
What happened, Jeff?
I was standing over there
looking at that machine,
wasn't hurting nobody,
boom, I gets it.
I know'd it was going to
happen to me, Mr. Frankie.
I know'd it.
It's gone all right.
Delaney.
He must have come in
here from the news room
and grabbed that tape and
then went out the other way.
Yeah?
Did anybody enter
or leave this room?
Nobody but you, the kid,
and the porter there.
Thanks.
Must have used this door.
Where does it lead to?
Well, to a hall that
leads to the sponsors room.
Well, let's go.
Y'all go ahead.
I'll stay here and recooperate.
Has anybody left here?
Don't ask me.
I didn't notice anybody.
Now, listen here, Lieutenant--
Quiet, quiet.
Speak your peace, Frankie.
Well, I just checked with
station WRW in Cheyenne,
and I think I've got the
low down on who killed
Tex Barton and Rita Wilson.
What-- What did you find?
Well, the way I've
got it figured,
you see, Rita was Tex's wife,
and well, she ran out on him
for some big radio executive.
What?
And just who is
this big executive?
Well, I don't know yet.
It was just coming
over the teletype
when somebody tore the tape.
But I've got a new line on him.
Now, as I see it--
All right, get
'em up everybody.
First man that moves follows
the same route that Text took.
Nice work, Frankie.
I killed Rita, sure.
I found out she was throwing
me over for someone else.
What about the cowboy?
We was the only one who
knew about Rita and me.
I had to get rid of him too.
All right, I'm in this
thing pretty deep.
Don't try anything.
One or two more won't make
any difference to me now.
Oh, Mr. Frankie!
Good work, Jeff.
Gimme that.
Thought you'd get
away with it, huh?
Take him down, Delaney.
It's our pleasure.
Come on, you.
ANNOUNCER: Presenting
the Pearl-a-Dent hour.
The broadcast, where's Anne?
Now, where do you think?
ANNOUNCER: Presenting for the
first time on the air, the girl
who was destined to
become radio's new singing
sensation, Anne Mason.
Well, how do you like that?
Practically sitting right in
my lap, and I didn't know it.
Sure.
You didn't think I'd
leave her running around,
so you could throw her
back in jail again, did ya?
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
She's my discovery, you know?
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
Well, Mr. Quigley?
She's in, Frankie.
Ah, swell, thanks a lot.
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
Well, what do you think
of our new find, Marty?
For the last time,
my name's Marty.
Shake.
Shake, Lieutenant.
Say, you're all right, Frankie.
You know, I suspected Martin
as soon as you started talking.
Guilt written all over his face.
But tell me, how did
you figure it was him?
Well, to tell you
the truth, I didn't.
He had me fooled too.
I thought it was Mr. Hastings.
What?
You're--
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.
I'll be seeing ya.
Me too.
Hey, Jeff, wait for me.
[music playing]
Oh, Frankie, where
have you been?
I got caught in a traffic jam.
[whistle]
Boy, look at that
new receptionist.
She's a honey.
You'd better forget about
her and put your uniform on.
You know how Mr. Carl
is about us being late.
Yeah.
Plenty of time, my
boy, plenty of time.
Now, if you'll excuse me?
Good morning.
-Good morning.
May I help you?
Yes, would you see if there's
any mail for me, please?
Perhaps, you'd better
tell me your name first.
Yes, of course, Ryan.
Frankie Ryan.
What's yours?
Anne Mason.
No, there's nothing
for you, Mr. Ryan.
All right, thank you.
Say, you're new
here, aren't you?
Uh-huh.
Just started this morning.
From out of town?
Uh-huh.
Well, which is it?
Singer or an actress?
Oh, singer.
I've always wanted
to be in radio,
and this is as close
as I could get.
But how do you know all this?
Oh, well, you see,
all our employees would
like to be on the air,
but, well a lot of them
are pretty good too.
But well, you see, most of them
just don't get an opportunity.
Singer, huh?
Say, has anybody
auditioned you yet?
No, not yet.
Well, we'll have to take
care of that right away.
Right away?
You mean right now?
Why, sure.
There's no time like
the present, you know.
Well, what about my job here?
Oh, well, that can wait.
This is important.
You see, the radio field is
always open to new talent,
and well, yours might be just
the voice we're looking for.
You're very kind, Mr.
Ryan, but I don't think I--
Oh, no, no.
I won't take no for an answer.
Come on.
Uh, Stella, you watch
the desk, will ya?
We're going to
audition Miss Mason.
You're what?
You heard me,
audition Miss Mason.
Right this way, Miss Mason.
Well, of all the--
Mr. Frankie, I can't.
I gotta the jitters
plum down to my toes.
Suppose that--
-Well, what's the matter, Jeff?
You're doing fine.
Now, come on, try it again.
Are you sure this is
all right, Mr. Ryan?
Of course, it's all
right, Miss Mason.
Jeff is just worried because
we're using this office instead
of the regular audition room.
It makes no
difference where we is.
If that Mr--
Jeff.
Are you ready, Miss Mason?
Yes.
Nervous?
A little.
Oh, well, that's only natural.
We're all that way at first.
All right, Jeff, go ahead.
well, good luck.
Go on, Jeff.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS, "BY
THE LOOKS OF THINGS"]
Wow, ain't that something.
Mr. Frankie.
Say, you have got a voice.
That was great.
Oh, thank you.
I'm glad you liked it.
Like it?
Why, say with a
voice like that,
you've got no business
behind a reception desk.
I can see you now, a star.
Your name--
We're all gonna be seeing stars
if we don't get out of here.
That Mr. Farrell--
I thought I'd find you here.
Up to your old
tricks again, huh?
This ain't my idea.
I know who's idea it is.
Oh, Mr. Farrell,
this is Miss Mason.
She's got a wonderful voice.
The greatest you've ever heard.
Well, how do you
do, Mr. Farrell?
How do you do?
And don't try to
evade the issue.
Why aren't you in uniform,
and why aren't you at work?
You took the words
right out of my mouth.
Well, we didn't mean
any harm, Mr. Farrell.
That's not the point.
One more shenanigan like
this, and you're gonna
find yourself out of a job.
-Yes, sir.
-Now, get busy.
See if you can find Miss Wilson.
She's holding up the rehearsal.
Yes, sir.
Right away.
I'm terribly
sorry, Mr. Farrell.
I didn't know.
It wasn't your
fault. I know that.
Well, then I won't lose my job?
Of course not.
Well, thank you, Mr. Farrell.
Not at all.
Mr. Farrell will call you
when he wishes to see you.
Anne, have Rita Wilson
report to Mr. Hastings
as soon as she comes in.
All right.
FRANKIE: Miss Wilson, please.
Oh, page.
Page, front please.
Oh, page, when Miss
Wilson comes in,
have her see Mr.
Hastings at once.
It's important.
Look, Anne, will
you forget about--
That will be all, page.
Nice work, honey.
You sure put him in his place.
Well, he needed a lesson.
But he is kinda cute.
Excuse me, Miss Wilson.
What is it?
Mr. Hastings would like to see
you in his office right away.
That's all for today.
Some other time.
And Mr. Farrell is waiting
for you in Studio A.
Tell Mr. Farrell
I'll see him as
soon as I talk to Mr. Hasting.
Yes, ma'am.
But you must be sensible, Rita.
I am being sensible, BJ,
Just the way I like to be.
Sure and at my expense.
Now, you listen to me Rita.
You listen to me, Sam Quigley.
I've been pushed around
by you two long enough.
Either I get my way, or I quit.
That's final.
But you can't do that.
Oh, can't I?
Well, you just watch me.
Now, now.
Let's be calm.
Let's not lose our
head's about this thing.
I'm surprised at you BJ,
getting her all upset like this.
Well, when she told--
Now, now, I'll
take over from here.
Now, Rita, why can't
you be a good girl--
I am a good girl.
Well, you know what I mean.
Give up this silly
idea of leaving
us for the Denti Glow people.
Haven't we made you happy here?
No.
We gave you a raise
in salary, didn't we?
So what?
So-- we pay you as much
as any sponsor can afford.
What do we have to
do to please you?
Why, hasn't Mr.
Hasting told you?
Told me what?
What is this, BJ?
Well, you won't like it, Sam.
She wants her salary doubled.
She-- doubled?
And that's only the beginning.
Look, Sam.
She wants the right to chose her
own producer, announcer comic--
Stop.
That's enough.
That's enough.
Are you out of your mind?
Nobody's worth that money.
The Denti Glow
people think I am.
You mean they agreed to that?
All I have to do is put
my name on the dotted line.
Now, Rita, you
can't do this to me.
I can't afford it.
Well, you better do it, Sam.
You'll be the laughing
stock of radio
if she signs with some
other toothpaste account.
You don't have to tell me that.
I know it.
Think it over, Sammy Boy.
And don't keep me
waiting too long,
or I might lose my patience and
sign with Denti Glow anyhow.
And you said you would
bring her into line.
Why didn't you do it?
After all, it's your program.
Yes, and costing
me $15,000 a week.
And for what?
It's got the best rating
of any show on the air.
And you've still got Rita.
Oh Rita.
Who cares about Rita?
There are plenty of
singers as good as her.
You can buy 'em
for a dime a dozen.
The woods are full of them.
But she's got the name.
Yeah, and the glamor.
Not for me, she hasn't.
But she has for 20
million radio listeners.
And if you think
I'm going to let
a rival toothpaste manufacturer
cash in on it, you're crazy.
All right.
All right, Sam.
I'll take care of it.
Now, don't worry.
I don't intend to.
How's that "Blue Moonlight"
number for Timex, Farrell?
Well, I don't know, Dick.
Mr. Farrell, I'm not
getting enough strings.
Oh, all right.
Dick, have the brass
hold down a little bit.
The fiddles are in the mud.
Hey, when do we start?
Just a minute, Ted.
And incidentally, while
you're on your feet,
how about digging up some new
gags for that script of yours.
What?
Go back on Joe Miller
after all these years?
Not a chance.
Look, if those gags were good
enough for my grandfather,
they're good enough for me.
What's the idea of rehearsing
the show without me?
What we're doing doesn't
concern you, Rita.
Doesn't concern me.
I like that.
The whole show is
built around me, that's
how little I'm concerned.
Would you mind stepping
outside with me a minute, Rita?
I want to rehearse your
lines with you, privately.
What's the matter with you
and the prima donna, Martin?
I thought you two
were pretty chummy.
Ah, forget it.
She looks through you like
you weren't even there.
I said, forget it.
OK.
Oh, hi, fellas.
Say listen, I got a
great new gag for you
for the Pearly Dance Show.
-OK.
Shoot.
All right, look, one
fella says to the other,
he says, you're so dumb I
bet you don't know what kind
of skin shoes are made out of.
Now get this, the
other guy says, no,
but banana skins would
make good slippers.
All right?
Huh?
All right.
You can't rule me
out for trying.
Page.
Mr. Farrell wants to see
you in Studio A, page.
Oh, look Anne, can't
you lay off of that.
I was only trying to help you.
Yes, you almost
helped me out of a job.
Look, I can explain
everything if you'll
only have lunch with me.
-Well, I--
Yes, sir.
I'll tell him right away.
On your horse, Frankie.
Yeah, OK.
Well-- well, how about it Anne?
Well, I'll think it over.
Aw swell.
Look, meet me in Studio
A as soon as you're off.
Hey, boss, we got a
terrific gag for you.
This I'll murder you.
Don't tell me it's the gag
where Rita Wilson breaks
her leg and has to be shot.
No gag could be that good.
Now get this, you're so dumb,
I bet you don't know what kind
of skin shoes is made out of.
No, but banana skins would
make pretty good slippers.
Ain't that a lark?
Just a gag for the snapper.
Hey, mister, you
can't go in there.
Why?
I'm not going to hurt nothing.
I know, but that's a
rehearsal and ain't nobody
allowed in there but
people in the show.
Well, maybe I'm on the show.
I know you ain't in the show.
I know everybody
that's in that show.
You can't go in there.
You can't--
Listen, Banjo Eyes, I'm
going through that door--
Mr. Frankie, tell this
gentleman he can't go in there.
Wait a minute, cowboy.
What seems to be the trouble.
Well, I ain't aiming to
horn in on nothing, buddy.
I'm from Olgalla, kind of a
stranger around these parts.
I ain't never seen a
big broadcast before.
Oh, well, this is
not a broadcast.
It's just a rehearsal.
Oh, that don't
make no difference,
just as long as I can see some
of them big stars at work.
You reckon I could kind
of go in there and watch?
Well, I reckon maybe you can.
But look, you got to sit
in the back and be quiet.
I won't make a sound.
All right, come on.
Hey, Jeff, you come
on with us too.
But Mr. Frankie, why me?
Well, I want to show
you how easy it is not
to be afraid of a microphone.
Oh, Mr. Frankie,
it ain't easy for me
not to be scared of nothing.
You know that.
Come on.
All right, I'll go.
Now listen, go right
there and sit down
and don't make any noise.
Say, has anybody
seen Mr. Farrell.
He sent for me.
He's out on the roof.
Tell him to hustle
it up, will you?
We got to time the Wilson spot.
-Right away.
There's no argument.
I simply want the
script changed.
That's impossible
and you know it.
We can't rewrite the script
at the last minute like this
simply because you don't
happen to like the comic.
I can't stand that man.
It's impossible for me to
sing under such circumstances.
Now look, Rita, as the producer
of this show, my reputation
is at stake and you're
not going to ruin it.
You'll sing all right,
and you'll like it.
[clears throat]
FRANKIE: Excuse me.
What do you want?
Well, Mr. Martin is ready
to time Miss Wilson's song.
OK.
All right, Bob.
I'll sing.
But you won't like it.
Frankie, stick around
till after rehearsal.
I want to talk to you.
Yes, sir.
All right, let's go.
Places, everybody.
Ready and waiting, Bob.
We'll pick it up on page 10 ,
the tag on the Wallace routine.
I've made some changes.
That'll be an improvement.
Quiet everybody.
We're timing this.
What's the idea
of running around--
Hello.
Hello.
Didn't take you very
long to get here.
My feet got hot, so I
turned the hose on them.
Oh, I get it.
Farrell, huh?
Don't be silly.
You're so dumb, I'll bet
you don't even know what kind
of skin shoes are made out of.
No, but banana skin's would
make pretty good slippers.
My gag.
Will you please lower this?
Stop the music.
What's the matter
with you, Rita?
Can't they wait
until I'm ready?
Oh.
Well, are you ready
now, Miss Wilson?
Yes.
All right.
Start it again.
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
HASTINGS: What happened?
Find the switch.
Turn on the lights.
[gunshot]
[rita screams]
Somebody get those lights on.
Something's happened to Rita.
She's been shot.
Somebody watch that door.
See that no one gets out.
Well, do something.
Don't just stand there.
Get a doctor.
Never mind a doctor.
You better get the coroner.
This girl's dead.
Dead?
Let me out of here.
Let me out of here.
Coroner's on his way up, Morty.
What do you make of it?
Whoever shot her knew his
business, that's a cinch.
Plugged straight
through the heart.
No powder burns.
You know that gun was
fired out there someplace.
Lights out too.
That's fancy shooting.
Yeah, too fancy.
All right, boys,
I won't need you.
You can beat it.
Are you sure nobody
left this studio
while the lights were out?
Why yes.
Or after they came back on?
You can see for yourself.
We're all here.
I don't see anything.
Who's we?
Why--
That's right, Lieutenant.
Nobody could get out of
here, even if they wanted to.
No?
Why not.
Well, you see the
doors lock automatically
from inside the control booth.
That's for rehearsing
and broadcast too.
It keeps out anybody--
Right now I'm only interested
in who they keep in.
Is he telling the truth?
What do you mean am
I telling the truth?
I'm asking him.
All right.
He's right.
Well, in that case, the
murderer is still in this room.
Oh, that's preposterous.
These are radio people.
Broadcasting is sacred to them.
Why they wouldn't think--
Of course, they wouldn't.
I'm stupid not to
have realized that.
It was suicide.
When nobody was looking, she
tiptoed over and switched out
the lights, shot herself,
swallowed the gun,
and then trotted right
back there to die.
That's not what I meant.
Well, if Rita Wilson didn't
swallow the gun, who did?
Just hold your horses, bud.
I'm coming to that.
Delaney, find that gun.
It's around here somewheres.
OK.
FRANKIE: 10 to 1,
you don't find it.
No?
Tell me, why not?
Well, because I've looked the
place over from top to bottom
before you got here.
And of course, you
searched everybody too.
Well, no.
I-- I guess I forgot that,
but-- holy smoke, the cowboy.
What cowboy?
Tex, the singing cowboy.
He might carry a gun.
Hey-- hey,
Lieutenant, he's gone.
Oh, he won't get far.
Wait here, Delaney.
Come on, Jeff.
Excuse me, y'all, please.
Wait a minute.
If he used the elevator,
we'll take the stairway
and cut him off.
-OK.
Let's go.
Is this a routine?
You should write
up a funnier one.
Hey, Farrell.
Quote.
If you were a smart
producer, you'd hook this up
and shoot it out over the air.
The top [inaudible] program to
come out of this madhouse yet.
Unquote.
You must have been
out of your mind.
What-- what do you mean?
You know what I mean.
-But I didn't--
-Shh.
Keep your voice down.
You're safe.
Hey, Miss, did a
cowboy just leave here?
Why, yes, Tex Martin.
He just walked out.
There he goes.
Hey, come back here.
[police siren]
You shouldn't have
done that, mister.
You're liable to hurt
somebody doing that.
Where do you
think you're going?
Back to the hotel, I reckon.
Oh, you was, eh?
Well, sure, I didn't
figure that killing
was any of my business.
Brother, you
don't know how much
that killing is your business.
There's nothing on him, Marty.
There's nothing here, boss.
All right, what
did you do with it?
Do with what?
You know, the gun, the one
you killed Rita Wilson with.
Oh, you've got me all wrong.
I don't pack no gun.
Them things are dangerous.
Suppose somebody got killed?
Somebody did get killed.
Well, see what I mean?
ABC regrets to announce that
the Pearl-a-Dent program,
usually on the air at this
time, will not be heard tonight.
An unfortunate
incident this afternoon
took the life of
Miss Rita Wilson,
knows to millions as
the Pearl-a-Dent Girl.
Miss Wilson was shot down
by an unknown assailant
during a studio rehearsal.
[jazz music plays]
FRANKIE: Oh, that's fine Jeff,
but can't use that on the radio
JEFF: No?
FRANKIE: No.
You see we have to--
oh, hello, Mr. Farrell.
Oh, I was afraid
you'd gone home.
No.
That cop Marty
help everybody up.
You want to see me?
Yes.
I'd like to talk
to you, Frankie.
Oh.
Oh, I get it.
I'm fired, huh?
Excuse me, Mr.
Farrell, I'll see you
all later, if you don't mind.
No, on the contrary, I-- I
came to ask a favor of you,
if you don't mind.
Well, sure.
Go ahead.
Shoot.
Well, you overheard
Miss Wilson and me
having a bit of an argument
this afternoon before the--
That's right.
Well, it-- it didn't really
mean anything, Frankie.
As a matter of fact,
there was nothing to it,
but you can understand
how that sort of thing
might look if taken
in the wrong light.
Yeah, sure.
I understand you.
You mean, it might get
you in a mess, huh?
Yes.
There'd be a lot of
embarrassing questions
and, well, you realize that
with my reputation as a producer
I couldn't afford to.
Oh.
I'm way ahead of you.
You mean you want me
to keep my mouth shut.
Yeah.
Yeah, that's right.
It's all right with me.
Doesn't mean anything to me.
I knew you'd see
it the right way.
Thanks a million, Frankie.
I won't forget it.
Oh, Mr. Farrell.
Yes?
Say, who you going to get
to fill Rita Wilson's spot?
Well, I-- I hadn't
thought about it.
It's a little early for
that, don't you think?
Yeah, but look, when
you do think about it,
will you keep Anne
Mason in mind?
She's got a wonderful voice.
Certainly.
Thanks for reminding me.
As her to come and see me.
We'll talk about it.
-Right.
-Good night.
Good night.
I'm sure glad you
didn't come out first.
Say, what that Mr.
Farrell man want?
Is you in trouble again?
-No.
No.
He just invited me over to his
house for a game of checkers.
Checkers?
Checkers?
Now, ain't that something.
Mr. Frankie, one of these days
you going to try me too far.
Well, look, pull yourself
together, will you?
We've got a lot of work to do.
I want to go over this
knew routine of ours.
But Mr. Frankie, between me
working here in this studio
all day and running around
all night helping you,
well, I ain't getting no sleep.
Well, a growing boy like
you doesn't need any.
I know.
But just growing
wears me to a frazzle.
Look, you got your script?
-Oh, I got that right here.
-OK.
I got to get
something for a mic.
Mic?
Does you have to?
Are you still scared
of a microphone?
Every time I see one of
them things I get the jitters
all inside of myself.
Well, look, we gotta
break you of that.
Now, look at that microphone.
That ain't no microphone.
That's a mop.
I know.
I know.
But look, can't you
pretend it's a mic?
Now, go on, look at it.
Now, you still scared?
Oh, Mr. Frankie,
how do you expect
for me to be afraid of
something that's closer to me
then my own brother?
Yeah, I never thought of that.
Wait a minute, I got an idea.
Uh oh, I don't like
to looks in your eyes
when you say you got an idea.
That means trouble.
I got just the thing.
Uh oh, whatever it is,
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to do it.
I ain't going to
do it, Mr. Frankie.
No sir, I ain't going to do
it, because right there is
where Miss Wilson got killed.
-Quiet down, will you, Jeff?
What do you want to
do, wake the dead?
Wake the dead?
Mr. Frankie, ain't I
got enough on my mind
without you putting
ideas in my head?
Jeff, do you mean to
tell me you're actually
afraid of Rita Wilson's ghost?
It ain't the ghost, it's the
person that made her a ghost.
That's what's bothering me.
Boy, you're terrific.
Come on, let's
rehearse this thing.
We want to get out of
here sometime tonight.
Go ahead.
Mr. Frankie, I've
been thinking.
Uh oh.
I don't think I want to be--
FRANKIE: Now, wait
a minute, Jeff.
There's nothing the
matter with you,
you're just afraid
of that microphone.
That's all.
-That ain't all.
Where's--
Well, now look, you want
to be a success, don't you?
You don't want to be a
janitor all your life.
Well, at least I get
paid for being a janitor.
Well, sure you get paid.
Yeah but look, if you're on the
radio, think of the glamour.
People clamoring for your--
Now-- now wait a
minute, Mr. Frankie, that
lady Miss Wilson had glamour.
Look at her now.
That work is too dangerous.
You tell me something,
will you, Jeff?
What would you do if you didn't
have anything to be scared of?
What I would--
Never mind.
Look, let's rehearse this thing.
We want to go home
sometime tonight.
Well, if I've got to,
I've just got to do it.
Well then start
reading, will you?
Mr. Frankie, it's
your first line.
Oh.
Yeah, that's right.
All right, you ready?
No, I'm ready.
Morning Rastis, How you feel?
Morning, Moe.
I sick.
Sick?
Boy, you is always
complaining about--
Mr. Frankie.
You don't expect me to
speak in no dialect, do you?
No, no.
You read yours just plain.
You're the straight man.
Oh.
Now that's different.
Come on now, let's start again.
Morning, Rastis, how you feel?
Morning, Moe.
I-- I sick.
Sick?
Boy, you is always
complaining about--
Mr. Frankie, it's a
little hot in here.
Let's go outside, huh?
Yeah, it is kind of warm.
No, wait a minute.
I'll fix the ventilator.
Oh.
No wonder it won't work.
Hey, Jeff, come here, quick.
Yes sir.
Look in here.
Goodness, is that a gun?
Yeah.
Must be the one that
killed Rita Wilson.
Pretty smart, huh?
It was probably put in there
while the lights were out.
A gun and me ain't got no
business in the same room.
I'll see you.
Uh oh.
Hey, Jeff, wait a minute.
Hold the phone.
What are you two doing in here?
Well, we were just--
What's that?
The gun you've
been looking for.
Oh, trying to hide it, eh?
Ah, now, wait a minute.
You certainly live up your
reputation as a cop, don't you?
You suspect everybody.
It's my business
suspecting people.
Where did you find it?
Come on over here
and I'll show you.
Right there in that ventilator.
Must have been put
there after the murder.
Ah, no wonder we
couldn't find it.
How do we know you
didn't put it there?
Yeah.
How do we know he
didn't sneak back here
tonight and try to
grab it off when
you thought nobody was around?
We caught you right
in the act, didn't we?
Now wait a minute.
Settle down.
Where do you get that stuff?
It's a good thing you used
your head and picked this gun up
with your handkerchief, because
if your fingerprints are
on it--
-And what if they are?
Now, wait a minute now.
Where y'all going to take us?
-Police headquarters.
What for?
We didn't do nothing.
Look at that.
And that.
Well, we've got let you go.
Yep, it wasn't
your fingerprints.
Well, don't have to look
so disappointed about it.
Mr. Lieutenant, do that
mean that we is free again?
Did we ain't murder?
Well, to an extent, yes.
But don't leave town.
No, sir.
Well, what makes you think
we'd want to leave town?
Well, you've nosed out
all the other answers.
Try dipping your
beak into that one.
Now, listen, Marty.
Don't call me--
All right, all right.
Lieutenant.
Come on.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Mr. Waters in studio B, please.
Oh, hello, Tex.
Hiya.
FRANKIE: Paging Mr. Waters.
Well, good morning, Tex.
Morning, Miss Anne.
My you look happy.
Get some good news?
I sure did.
Mr. Farrell's going to let me
audition for him this morning.
Oh Tex, that's wonderful.
It's about time
you had a chance.
You've waited long enough.
Well, we both have, Miss Anne.
Maybe you'll be next.
Well, I hope so.
Good luck, Tex.
Ah, thank you.
Well, that cowboy don't
waste any time, does he?
What do you mean?
Well, he's always
hanging around
you, always talking to you.
What's he want, anyhow?
I think that's none
of your business.
Oh, well pardon me.
But if you must know, he was
telling me about his audition.
Audition?
For who, Farrell?
Yes, Page.
Mr. Farrell is going to
hear him this morning.
Oh, Mr. Farrell, is it?
Well, I guess that
puts me in my place.
Well, you asked for it.
Yeah.
Paging Mr. Waters.
Any mail for us, beautiful?
Oh, I'll see.
Oh, hello, Mr. Pringle.
Listen, I got another
great gag for you.
Stow it, kid.
We ain't buying gags anymore.
We're off the air.
Off the air?
Yeah, Wallace
quit this morning.
But he couldn't--
Ah, but he did.
And now we're on relief.
Ain't that cute?
Gee, I'm sorry.
But look--
Watch your job, kid.
We might start angling for it.
No mail, Mr. Pringle.
Thanks.
So long.
Good luck.
Hey Anne, did you hear that?
Well, what about it?
What about it?
That means they need a new
comic to the Pearly Dent Show,
doesn't it?
-Yes.
-Well?
Well what?
Frankie, not you.
Well, who else?
Why not?
Look, Jeff and I have got a
swell comedy act worked up.
Does Mr. Farrell
know about this?
Well, no, but don't you worry.
It's in the bag.
Well, just make sure you
don't wind up in the bag.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Say is he kidding?
[MUSIC - GORDON JONES "OH, BURY
ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE"]
Nice, cheerful little diddy.
Yeah.
Now I know why they
call them lone cowboys.
Heard enough?
Plenty.
[MUSIC - GORDON JONES "OH, BURY
ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE"]
That'll do, Mr. Barton.
Thank you very much.
Well, I'm not through yet.
I got a lot more to do.
Well, we've heard
all that we require.
We'll let you know
if we can use you.
How much more of this torture?
One more coming up.
Presenting the two
Blackbirds, Rastis and Moe.
Hey, what goes on here?
Morning, Rastis, how's you all?
Morning, Moe.
I sick.
Boy, you is always
complaining about something
that you ain't even
got and couldn't
have it if you did have it.
Boy, I got it.
You got what?
A kind of a feeling
that starts--
I had that once.
You mean the kind of a
feeling of starts in the head
and walks around--
That's it.
Yeah?
What you doing for it?
Well, I seen myself a doctor
and he give me a bottle of--
Don't take them,
they'll kill you.
Now, why don't you try--
I tried two boxes of them.
They didn't do me no good.
Then why don't you
go see a doctor--
That quack?
I had him.
You see, he's one of
these kind of doctors--
Yeah, yeah I know I know.
Well look, in that case, what
you need is a cutting doctor.
You know, a sturgeon?
A man who can cooperate on yous.
You know, one that takes a
knife and he cuts you here--
I had mine taken out last year.
Oh, you did, huh?
Well look, what
else do you think
maybe could be wrong with you?
Well, you see, I
thought maybe it was--
Oh no, no, no, no.
You all wrong.
Couldn't be that.
Now look, why don't you try
some of them pills, you know,
that my brother took when
he was suffering from what
he caught when he was--
Was he out there?
I thought all the time
he was going to go--
Yeah, he did.
But he done come back.
What's he doing now?
Well, you see,
he's working again.
Where?
Well, he's got a job.
And boy, do you know
he's making a salary of--
That ain't no money at all.
Yeah, I know, and
that poor devil,
he's fixing to get married.
Look here, Mr. Frankie.
You've got to talk slower if
you want me to keep up with you.
I can't talk that
fast, Mr. Frankie.
Who is he going to marry?
Well, don't you know?
He's going to marry
the daughter of--
She's a nice girl.
All right.
Break it up, you two.
What's the matter, boss?
I thought we was
doing pretty fine.
You know better then to
try a stunt like this.
Well now, just a
minute, Mr. Farrell--
You think I wouldn't recognize
you behind this stuff?
Don't touch me.
I don't rub off.
Ah, Frankie.
This is taking things
a little too far.
After all, I agreed
one audition, but not--
Yeah, but Mr.-- I
mean, Mr. Farrell,
we knew you needed two new
comics for the Pearl-a-Dent
Show, so we just thought that--
Uh oh.
Here come that man again.
Sorry to bust in like this.
Not at all.
Were you-- were
you looking for me?
Tex Barton.
They told me he was here.
Well, uh, he just
left here, Lieutenant.
Who's he?
Who's who?
You.
Frankie, don't you remember?
What happened to you?
Fall in a coal bin?
Yeah.
I think I did.
You should have
passed him in the hall.
He must be in the
building somewhere.
Thanks.
Hey Lieutenant, wait a minute!
Hey, Marty.
My name's Lieutenant Phillips.
Don't forget that.
Yeah, OK.
What did you want
with Tex Barton?
Were those his
fingerprints on the gun?
Don't know yet,
but it was his gun.
We got a wire back
on the serial number.
Well-- well then
he's the killer.
Well, you can't tell.
He did time back in Cheyenne.
Used the same gun in a shooting
scrape over some woman.
What's her name, Delaney?
Wharton, Gladys Wharton.
Yeah, that's it.
Oh.
Thanks a lot, Marty.
I mean Lieutenant.
Come on, Delaney.
Wharton, Gladys Wharton.
Oh, Jeff, have
you seen Frankie?
Yessum, there he is.
-That?
-Yes.
And it's not funny.
Here Frankie.
Take these contacts over
to Mr. Hastings office
and wait for an OK.
Right.
Come on, Jeff.
Say, now's a good time to
sell our act to Mr. Hastings.
Yeah, but we've
already been beat
to him once by Mr. Farrell.
Oh, quit beefing.
Come on.
Wonder what this is all about.
I don't know, but this
ain't no place for me.
Come here.
Pull yourself together.
Something's all wrong.
Where's Mr. Hastings?
Don't look at me.
I ain't got him.
Come on, Jeff.
Let's take a look around.
Tex Barton.
Jeff, he's dead.
I'm glad you left
that door open.
We interrupt this program to
bring you a special bulletin.
Death once again
stalked the halls
of amalgamated
broadcasting company
today, striking down Tex
Barton, cowboy troubadours.
Detective Lieutenant
Marty Phillips,
in charge of the investigation,
believes the crime
to be the work of the
mysterious assailant who
less than 24 hours before
took the life of Rita Wilson,
beautiful ABC singing star.
What bothers me is why in
an institution of this size,
nobody heard the shot
when gun was fired.
Oh well, that's
easy, Lieutenant.
Yeah, with you
everything is easy.
Well you see, all these
rooms are soundproof.
Well, that could
account for it.
Which reminds me, how does it
happen you're always on deck
every time a murder's
committed around here?
Well, coincidence I guess.
Yeah?
Well, men have been
convicted and hung
on the strength of coincidence.
Don't forget that.
And you say you
two were auditioning
at the time of the murder?
Yes.
That's right.
And you claim you were in
his office across the street
when it happened?
Yes.
Yes I was.
That's right.
We were looking
over some contracts.
I can prove it.
That leaves you, Ms. Mason.
I know.
I know.
You were listening to the
Swing Parade broadcast.
But I--
And you can prove it.
Where were you?
I-- I was in the
coincident with Mr. Frankie.
Well, if this ain't as neat
a set of alibies as I've
ever heard.
Well, it'll be off
and now you can go.
But don't anybody
leave this building
without checking with me first.
And don't try anything funny.
And that goes double for you.
Yes sir.
Oh, Frankie.
Look, you-- you won't
say anything about--
Oh no.
Don't worry about that.
Oh fine.
But listen, don't you
forget Anne's audition.
Oh that's right.
I'll tell you what, you--
you have in the audition room
in half an hour and
I'll hear her then.
That's the stuff.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS
"SOMEHOW OR OTHER"]
Not bad.
Very good.
Well, she's all right.
[MUSIC - MARJORIE REYNOLDS
"SOMEHOW OR OTHER"]
Was I all right?
Honey, you can
sing for me anytime.
Quigley doesn't sign
you up, he's crazy.
Crazy, am I?
Like a fox.
That girl is great.
I'm going to sign her up.
Oh but, Sam she's a green kid.
She's had no experience.
Well, that's what
I like about her.
Get her in here.
OK.
Oh, gee, Anne.
That was marvelous.
You were great.
You sure was, Ms. Anne.
You sing that like
nobody's business.
Oh, I hope so.
You think Mr.
Farrell will like it?
Well, how can he
help but like it?
Well, Anne, you're in.
You made it.
-Really?
Yes.
Mr. Hastings just called.
What did I tell you?
He and Mr. Quigley would like
to see you in the clan's room
right away.
-Well, come on.
What are we waiting for?
Hey, where do you
think you're going?
Well, with Anne.
Oh, well what?
I'm her agent.
She's the greatest
discovery I've ever had.
Yes, I know, Frankie.
But under the circumstances,
don't you think
you'd better me handle it?
Oh, but gee, Mr. Farrell--
I think maybe he's
right, Frankie.
Oh.
Yeah sure.
OK.
Good luck.
I guess we got the brush off.
how do you like that?
How do you like that?
But Mr. Frankie.
Wait.
How do you like that?
I arranged for the whole
audition, I get her all set.
What happens to me,
yeah, I'm a smart guy.
I wind up behind the eight-ball.
Is you talking about me?
No.
Jeff, I'm through with women.
Absolutely through with
them, especially singers.
That's the best
idea you had yet.
Cause singers don't last
long on this network.
No, sir.
You said it.
But you know, Jeff, gee I'd hate
to see anything happen to Anne.
I mean like--
Like what happened to
Miss Wilson and Mr. Tex?
Yeah.
You know, somebody has
to catch those killers.
Looks like it's going
to have to be us.
Yeah, not so heavy on that us.
You go find them killers.
Them killers ain't finding
me, and I ain't giving them
no help by finding them first.
Jeff.
I've got it.
We've got a date.
I got a date right here with
a broom and I'm gonna keep it.
No, you haven't.
Go on, change your clothes.
Does I has too?
Go on and change your clothes.
Am I going to have
trouble with you?
Changing clothes, sir.
Stella, have those
cops left yet?
Well, I haven't
seen them, Frankie.
Look, have you got Tex
Barton's home address there?
Sure.
Give it to me, will ya?
Well, now, look, Frankie,
this isn't another one
of your brain storms?
-Never mind that.
This is an important.
Well, it's Room 203
at the Walsh Hotel.
Swell.
Thanks a lot.
Come on.
Oh my goodness.
Tex killed in Mr.
Hastings office.
It just don't make sense.
Don't none of it
make no sense to me.
Well, if Tex did kill Rita,
who killed Tex and why?
Why ask me riddles,
Mr. Frankie?
Why should I know?
I was just thinking out loud.
Uh oh.
Say, you don't suppose
Mr. Hastings could have
killed Tex or Rita, do you?
I don't think so, cause Mr.
Hasting is an awful nice man.
Yeah, that's the
way I had it figured,
but I don;t know, the finger
seems to point to him.
But Mr. Frankie, If you don't
be careful, the finger's gonna
be pointing at you, and--
If I could only get my
hands of one good clue.
Like what, for instance?
Like getting a
line on that girl
that Tex was mixed
up with in Cheyenne.
What was her name?
Gladys Wharton.
I don't know the lady.
Well, I'd like to.
I think she's the answer to
the whole shooting match.
That's one answer I
don't want to know.
Well, if my hunch is right,
we're about to find out.
Here it is here.
[WHISPERING] Uh, Mr. FRankie--
Sh.
203.
This is it.
If you ask me, we's it.
There's nobody in.
How can you expect Mr. Tex
to be home if he's dead?
I wasn't thinking
of Tex, stupid.
Did it ever occur
to you that somebody
else might have the same idea?
But if anybody
else ain't got it,
the idea must not be no good.
I'm going.
Now, wait a minute.
This is the break
I've been waiting for.
We're going in.
Ain't that trespassing?
And besides, ain't
the door locked?
Yeah, but this skeleton
key is the answer to that.
You always got the
answer to everything.
Come on
Mr. Frankie, you got me in
here, now what's I gonna do?
Now, look, get busy.
If I know Marty Phillips,
he won't be long in finding
this place himself.
You examine the bed.
I'm gonna look
through the drawers.
Yes, sir.
You never can tell
what you'll find.
Might be something big.
Looky here.
Looky here.
Tex's suitcase.
Boy, let me at it.
Oh, them ain't
nothing but papers.
What did you expect
to find, a dead body?
Well, wouldn't nothing
surprise me lately the way
we been going.
I done got plum scared to
open my dinner bucket anymore.
Hey, listen, if these papers
are what I think they are,
it's better than finding gold.
Mr. Frankie, you sure got
a funny sense of value.
Looky here.
Now, ain't that something?
Anne's picture.
Then my eyes didn't
fool me after all.
Look at that.
A telegram too.
I can't believe it.
Yet they tie up, the
picture, the telegram,
she must be Gladys Wharton.
Well, you don't mean to say
she killed that cowboy, do you?
Oh, Jeff, I don't
know what to think.
Looks bad.
Look, don't you say anything
to anybody, not even Anne.
Oh, you know me.
You know, if she
did-- well, if she did,
she must have had a good reason.
You know, Jeff, we've
got to help her.
Yes,sir.
Greetings, kiddies.
I know it was gonna happen.
I know it.
I suppose this is
a coincidence too?
Well, no, not exactly.
You see, we kind of
liked Tex so we thought
we'd come up in his room
and gather up the things
and, well, send them home.
Sure.
I know.
A very noble gesture.
You wanted to help
him so much you
tore his room apart doing it.
It's robbery, all right, Marty.
No doubt about it.
It's as plain as the
nose on you face.
But-- uh.
Marvelous, Delaney.
Sometimes I wonder
what I'd do without you
around to tell me these things.
Yes, sir.
All right, kids, spill it.
What did you find?
We didn't find anything.
I just thought that--
Well, suppose you start
thinking of a nice cozy room
behind bars,
because that's where
you're going to wind up if
you don't start talking fast.
Well, what makes you
think we found anything?
That look on your face, like
the cat that ate the canary.
You ain't kidding nobody.
OK.
You win, Marty.
And my name's Lieutenant
Phillips, not Marty.
Oh, holding back evidence, eh?
Anne Mason.
And a telegram from
Gladys Wharton.
Very interesting.
You wouldn't be trying to
protect your little girlfriend
now, would ya?
Well, uh, no.
That's my picture.
She gave it to me.
Get away.
This belongs to the state now.
In the case of the People
versus Gladys Wharton.
What do you mean?
I mean, for my money, Anne
Mason murdered Tex Barton.
Bring them along, Delaney.
Hey, wait a minute, you
know, Jeff and I didn't
look this place over very good.
Aren't you gonna look around and
see if we overlooked anything?
Yeah.
I think you got something there.
They locked us in.
Break it open.
Open this door!
Anne, Anne, wait a minute.
Oh, Frankie, I've got
the most wonderful news.
Never mind that.
Listen, I got to talking
to you right away.
Come on out on the roof.
Go on, Jeff.
Well, what's the
matter, Frankie?
What's wrong?
-Everything's wrong.
Marty's wise to
the whole shebang.
Wise to what?
I don't understand.
That picture and the
telegram, he found them.
What picture?
What telegram?
Oh, you know, Anne, the
picture you gave Tex Barton.
Oh, that.
Oh, that?
Listen, you're on a spot.
Oh, don't be silly.
I knew Tex before.
He'd work with some of
the smaller radio stations
and when he heard
I was out of a job,
why he took my picture around.
Well, look, that's
all right with me,
but you're going to have a hard
time making Marty believe it.
Don't you realize, he
thinks you killed Tex.
And he's coming up here to
make an arrest right now.
Well, that's awful.
Well, I can't believe it.
You better believe it,
because he's not fooling.
He sure ain't, Miss Anne.
But my contract,
I just signed it.
Forget about your contract.
The best thing for you to do
is to get out of here as quick
as you can.
Find a place to hide--
And I know just the place.
The county jail.
You're under arrest, Miss Mason.
Or should I Wharton?
And I'm taking you
along with her.
Me?
What for?
For locking me in that room.
OK, Marty, we'll go with ya.
But you're sure gonna
look like a chump
when the papers tell how we
made a monkey out of you.
Come on.
Don't worry, Ann, we'll do
everything we can for ya.
Now, there's a guy that's a
credit to the police force.
It ain't fair, Mr. Frankie.
Here it is way past my dinner
time and I'm starving to death
and there you is reading a book.
All right, be quiet, will ya?
I'll be through in a minute.
That's what I've been
telling my stomach
but it keeps on arguing.
Here's one, look.
Robert Farrell, radio
producer, formally in New York.
Well, no Cheyenne.
He's out.
No, he ain't.
I just seen him come in.
Look, look at this one.
BJ Hastings, radio executive,
formally owner of WRW
in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Jeff, that's it.
We've got it.
You mean, Mr.
Hastings is the killer?
Well, he could be, but
gee, it's hard to believe.
Look, if Anne knew
him in Cheyenne,
then she's in on the whole deal.
Now, of we could only talk
to her, and find out--
My goodness, she is the killer.
No, Anne, couldn't
kill anybody.
No?
She-- well, she's not the type.
Where we going?
To see Anne.
Down to the jailhouse?
Well, certainly.
Oh, Mr. Frankie, this is
one summer that I thought
I was gonna get some fresh air.
You'll get plenty of it.
Come on.
OK.
Goodbye.
Hiya, Marty.
How many times have
I got to tell you
my name is Lieutenant Phillips?
And if you're looking for
any clues, I ain't got any.
You're telling me.
I told you-- I'm sorry,
Marty, they slipped past me.
It's all right, Delaney.
All right, kid, get
it off your chest.
Well, it's nothing, I, uh,
just wanted to see Anne.
What makes you think
I'd let you see her?
Well, as a taxpayer,
it's my privilege.
Hey, wait a minute,
you don't pay taxes.
Well, I will someday.
So couldn't I see
her now on account?
Delaney.
Wait a minute.
You can't throw me out.
I gotta right to see Anne.
Well, she ain't here.
She ain't here?
We released her on
bail a half an hour ago.
You released her on bail?
We released her on bail.
Well, who did it?
Who did it, Marty?
Who got her out?
Even if I knew, I
wouldn't tell you.
You mean, you don't know?
The deal was handled by
Max Creager, a bail broker.
Wouldn't give his client's name.
He wouldn't, huh?
Marty, do you realize
what this means?
It means I've got too
much on my mind right now
to worry about it.
Now, will ya please--
Now, look, Anne
didn't kill Tex,
and if she is Gladys
Wharton, she knows too much.
So the killer gets her out
of jail so he can murder her.
Maybe he's got
something there, Marty.
Yeah, I kno-- say,
if that's straight,
that girl's life means less
with every tick of the clock.
We gotta find her.
Listen, there's a chance she
might have gone to the studio.
She's supposed to be on
the Pearl-a-Dent hour.
Well, it's a long
one, but we'll try it.
Say, Marty, you know,
I've been thinking.
-Uh-oh.
-Well, stop it.
Every time you start to
think, I got a headache.
You get a headache?
Every time he
starts to thinking,
I get a nervous concussion.
Quiet down, Jeff.
Look, Marty, I don't think
Anne is Gladys Wharton.
No, then who is?
Well, how about Rita Wilson?
No, you're crazy.
We looked up Anne
Mason's record.
She hails from a
little town about
50 miles outside of Cheyenne.
Yeah?
I didn't know that.
Oh, nice of you to admit it.
Say, look, did you
know that Mr. Hastings
comes from down there too?
Where did you find that out?
Oh, I looked it up
in the radio yearbook.
He used to own a
station down there.
Them maybe he's the
one we're looking for.
I don't know who
we're looking for.
This case gets more mixed up
every time I blink my eyes.
How about it, Marty?
How about what?
How about Mr. Hastings?
How about shutting
up so I can think?
Step on it, Delaney.
Right.
Excuse me, miss, I,uh--
Stella, have you seen Anne?
Why, yes, She came in a
minute ago with Mr. Farrell.
Farrell?
That's all I want to know.
Farrell, I want to talk to you.
Oh, hello, Lieutenant.
You still on the job?
What have you done with Anne?
I haven't seen her.
The girl at the desk said you
come in with her a while ago.
She must be confused.
I think you're the one
that's confused, mister.
Now, are you going to
tell us where she is?
Well, I-- yes, I
did come in with her,
but I don't know
where she is now.
That's a fact.
MARTY: It better be.
It is, and now, if you
gentlemen will excuse me.
the Pearl-a-Dent show goes
on in half an hour and I--
Oh, no, you don't.
You're staying
right here with me.
What about Mr. Hastings?
Will you get that
idea out of your head?
Now, I'm getting to the
bottom of this thing,
once and for all.
Delaney, round up everybody and
have them in the client's room
in 15 minutes.
And that goes for you too.
Yes, sir.
Jeff--
Uh oh.
What's been the matter with me?
That's just what I've
been trying of figure out.
The teletype.
I should have thought
of that a long time ago.
Well, here's hoping it works.
Here's hoping we
don't get caught.
We've got them.
It's coming through.
You don't say so.
Mr. Frankie, you
sure is a genius.
Yeah, Jeff, Tex used to do a
singing act with a blond girl
named Gladys Wharton.
Jeff, it's beginning to click.
Rita Wilson used to be a blond.
What do you know about that?
Says they both
left town hurriedly
after a shooting scrape
with some radio executive.
Who was the radio executive?
It's gone dead, and just
when we were going to find
out something important.
You don't think a
ghost did that, do ya?
No.
That machine went
off too conveniently.
Say, this one's connected with
the machine in the newsroom,
isn't it?
I wonder.
You wait here, Jeff.
Alone?
With all these ghosts?
Mr. Frankie--
Hey, where the fire?
Listen, I'm on the
trail of something hot.
Come on, follow me.
Somebody slugged him.
Jeff?
Jeff, wake up.
Is that where I think I is?
Or is that where I hope I am?
Oh, my head.
What happened, Jeff?
I was standing over there
looking at that machine,
wasn't hurting nobody,
boom, I gets it.
I know'd it was going to
happen to me, Mr. Frankie.
I know'd it.
It's gone all right.
Delaney.
He must have come in
here from the news room
and grabbed that tape and
then went out the other way.
Yeah?
Did anybody enter
or leave this room?
Nobody but you, the kid,
and the porter there.
Thanks.
Must have used this door.
Where does it lead to?
Well, to a hall that
leads to the sponsors room.
Well, let's go.
Y'all go ahead.
I'll stay here and recooperate.
Has anybody left here?
Don't ask me.
I didn't notice anybody.
Now, listen here, Lieutenant--
Quiet, quiet.
Speak your peace, Frankie.
Well, I just checked with
station WRW in Cheyenne,
and I think I've got the
low down on who killed
Tex Barton and Rita Wilson.
What-- What did you find?
Well, the way I've
got it figured,
you see, Rita was Tex's wife,
and well, she ran out on him
for some big radio executive.
What?
And just who is
this big executive?
Well, I don't know yet.
It was just coming
over the teletype
when somebody tore the tape.
But I've got a new line on him.
Now, as I see it--
All right, get
'em up everybody.
First man that moves follows
the same route that Text took.
Nice work, Frankie.
I killed Rita, sure.
I found out she was throwing
me over for someone else.
What about the cowboy?
We was the only one who
knew about Rita and me.
I had to get rid of him too.
All right, I'm in this
thing pretty deep.
Don't try anything.
One or two more won't make
any difference to me now.
Oh, Mr. Frankie!
Good work, Jeff.
Gimme that.
Thought you'd get
away with it, huh?
Take him down, Delaney.
It's our pleasure.
Come on, you.
ANNOUNCER: Presenting
the Pearl-a-Dent hour.
The broadcast, where's Anne?
Now, where do you think?
ANNOUNCER: Presenting for the
first time on the air, the girl
who was destined to
become radio's new singing
sensation, Anne Mason.
Well, how do you like that?
Practically sitting right in
my lap, and I didn't know it.
Sure.
You didn't think I'd
leave her running around,
so you could throw her
back in jail again, did ya?
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
She's my discovery, you know?
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
Well, Mr. Quigley?
She's in, Frankie.
Ah, swell, thanks a lot.
[MUSIC - LORNA GRAY, "DOIN' THE
CONGA"]
Well, what do you think
of our new find, Marty?
For the last time,
my name's Marty.
Shake.
Shake, Lieutenant.
Say, you're all right, Frankie.
You know, I suspected Martin
as soon as you started talking.
Guilt written all over his face.
But tell me, how did
you figure it was him?
Well, to tell you
the truth, I didn't.
He had me fooled too.
I thought it was Mr. Hastings.
What?
You're--
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.
I'll be seeing ya.
Me too.
Hey, Jeff, wait for me.
[music playing]