Quincy M.E. (1976–1983): Season 8, Episode 23 - Whatever Happened to Morris Perlmutter? - full transcript
You are going to brand
a perfectly innocent
boy a criminal?
Cut yourself, huh?
She's gone forever!
That is Morris Perlmutter.
I can teach you more in
five minutes about that part
than you could teach
me in a lifetime of trying.
Do you think you
could play the lead?
But recently, I forget...
Short-term memory loss isn't
uncommon as you grow older.
Hundreds of thousands of people
who're diagnosed as
senile aren't senile at all?
Doctor, I'm scared. I'm
afraid I'm losing my mind.
Gentlemen, you
are about to enter
the most fascinating
sphere of police work,
the world of forensic medicine.
You can tell Mr. DeMille
I won't film in Morocco
in the heat of August.
It's out of the question.
I may just get on
the ship-to-shore
and tell him myself.
Oh, steward...
Violet!
Oh, no!
No!
God, no!
Body is that of Violet
Winston. Age seventy-two.
Height 163 centimeters.
Weight, approximately
fifty-one kilograms.
Something the matter, Quince?
Seventy-two.
That would make her about the
right age. She even looks the same.
You know this woman?
Unless I'm wrong, this is
the same Violet Winston
who was big in the
theater back in the '30s.
- You're older than you look.
- Very funny.
She and her sister had
an act I was crazy about.
It was her sister
that found her.
She also got a look at the
killer before he got away.
What's her sister's name?
- Her name is Eugenia.
- Eugenia!
The Winston sisters
and Morris somebody.
They were the toast
of the Catskills Circuit.
My folks said they went all
the way back to vaudeville.
I saw them as a kid in a play
called The Jester's Journal.
- They must've made
quite an impression.
- Are you kidding?
They put on the most dazzling
performances I'd ever seen.
At the age of nine, I didn't
know which one I loved more.
Some finale isn't it, Sam?
Murdered in her own home
for a handful of costume jewelry.
- Let's get started.
- Okay.
Here.
Here's the only bullet fragment
that remained in the body.
Awfully small.
We're not going to be
able to tell much from that.
Let's get a section of brain
tissue from the wound track.
I'd like to check for powder
residues under the microscope.
Right.
See the way those
nerve cells look?
Neurofibrillary tangles.
And the nerve endings
are degenerated.
Those are plaques.
Violet Winston had
Alzheimer's disease.
From the extent of the tissue breakdown,
the dementia must've been quite severe.
Hey, Sam.
- Hey, you still
drinking that stuff?
- Yep.
- You finish
the post on Violet Winston?
- Yeah.
And about all I'm sure of is that she
was in an advanced stage of senility.
That doesn't tell us
much about her killer.
Neither did our autopsy.
She was killed by a
shotgun wound to the head,
but the bullet fragment we
found had no rifling marks.
Same with the
pieces our boys found.
I'll tell you what
they did find...
Some of the killer's blood.
Oh, Sam, present for ya.
Where'd that come from?
He cut himself on the
window he broke to get in.
You wouldn't believe the fight I had
with Mayhew in Crime Lab to get this.
I figured you should
be the one to type it.
You figured right. Thanks.
- I better get
started on ABO typing.
- Okay, we gotta run.
Okay.
Oh, Quincy,
did you say the
victim was senile?
She had a degenerative
brain disease.
Her older sister is
coming in a couple of hours
to go over the mug files.
- I wasn't holding out
too much hope, anyway.
- Wait a minute.
Would you mind if I dropped over
when Eugenia Winston is there?
Sure. Would you
mind if I asked why?
A long time ago, she took
me on a magic carpet ride.
I never got a
chance to thank her.
- Magic carpet?
- Yeah.
- See you later.
- Okay.
That's him!
No, no. The chin is all wrong.
He had this
dreadful little cleft.
Sorry, it's definitely not him.
Wait a minute...
Wait a minute...
No. He had meaner eyes.
He's got the chin though.
That's the last of the
mug shots, Ms. Winston.
It could be the guy doesn't
have a criminal record, you know?
If I saw him again, I'd know it.
I may be old, but I
never forget a face.
And I'll never get that
face out of my mind. Never.
Homicide. Monahan.
Yes, Captain. Be right there.
My apologies. Captain
wants me in a pow-wow.
Ms. Winston, how about if
somebody take you home?
Oh, how nice.
Thank you, officer.
Oh, I'm not a police officer. I'm
Dr. Quincy. I'm with the coroner's office.
And I'm also one
of the biggest fans
you and your sister ever had.
How flattering, Dr. Quincy.
I don't mean to
flatter. It's the truth.
I thought your performance in The
Jester's Journal was magnificent.
Not to mention your sketches
in Smokey Mountain Review.
Your act brought the house down.
Smoky Mountain Review?
You didn't see the one where we
slide down that flagpole at the start?
I sure did.
That was Morris' idea.
Our partner, Morris Perlmutter.
His first love may have
been the legitimate stage,
but he couldn't
resist a pratfall.
Believe me, Ms. Winston.
We'll do whatever's humanly
possible to find the man responsible
for your sister's murder.
Thank you, yes.
You know, I...
I shouldn't ask
this of a stranger.
Most of our friends have passed
on. Violet and I don't have a family.
What I mean to say is,
I don't know how many people
will be able to come to her funeral.
It would mean so much
to her, if a fan were there.
Someone to represent the thing she
loved more than anything in the world,
her audience.
I know it's asking an awful
lot, but if you're not too busy,
it'll be at Cedar Hills
at 1:00, tomorrow.
I'd consider it an honor.
To everyone who knew her,
Violet Winston was the
very embodiment of life.
There was the fire in her eyes.
The openness of her heart.
Her childlike innocence.
The irrepressible
enthusiasm for each new day.
Old age may have
slowed her down.
But it didn't still
her soaring spirit.
Her greatest
happiness was in giving.
And if you were lucky enough to
see her on the stage in her heyday,
you know what it was
she was best at giving.
It was herself.
Howl!
Howl!
Howl, howl!
You are men of stones.
Had I your tongues and eyes,
I'd use them so that
heaven's vault should crack!
She's gone
forever!
No.
No life!
Why should a dog, a horse,
a rat, have life?
And thou no breath at all?
She is gone
forever.
- Who's that?
- That...
That is Morris Perlmutter.
We'll all miss Violet.
Thank you so much for coming.
Which was longer
than the play lasted.
But you've gotta admit,
it was a great two weeks.
They sound like wonderful times.
They were more than wonderful.
It's almost impossible to describe.
The excitement, the costumes,
the music, the laughter...
The cheap hotels,
the all-night bus rides.
There were nights you could
reach out and feel the electricity.
The applause...
Yeah, that's what you miss most.
You make it sound
like it's all over.
The parade hasn't passed me by.
I stop acting, I stop breathing.
Do you get much
opportunity to act?
I do some television.
Movies, now and then.
He means we're extras
when they need some old
geezers in the background.
Well, it so happens, they
still ask for me by name.
That's how I got this part
in the play we're in now...
The Man Who Refused To Die.
It'll be on live TV in three weeks.
We play checkers
for ninety minutes.
The man they have in the lead
role, an actor named Hugo Dreiser...
- I've heard he's terrific.
- He's awful.
He gives mediocrity a bad name.
No feel for the character.
He's got no
subtlety. No reserve.
If I had a part like that, I'm tellin'
you, I could go like a house afire.
I'd like to see you try to get through
the lines that guy's gotta remember.
In Green Street, I had
a nine page monologue.
Learned it in one sitting.
That wasn't exactly
last Christmas.
That was forty years ago.
I could do it
today, if I had to.
- Maybe we should be going.
- I think so.
- If there's
anything I can do...
- Thank you for coming.
- Bye, dear.
- You too.
We have a late
rehearsal to get to.
I'll be along in a minute.
Good-bye, Eugenia.
I'm so sorry about Violet.
My deepest condolences.
Thank you, Jimmy.
Now that Violet's gone,
we're both alone.
It didn't have to be that way.
When I think of the times
I was so close to
asking for your hand...
Once I even bought the ring.
But I promised myself,
not until I can
provide a decent living.
I've had a hard enough
time supporting myself.
You think it would've
mattered to me?
It mattered to me.
It still matters to me.
You deserve better
than marrying a flop.
You were never
a flop in my eyes.
I still haven't given up hope.
Who are you after?
Me, or Lady Luck?
And all these years I thought
you were one and the same.
Look at these people.
They've given up.
They've surrendered.
White flags everywhere.
I'll die if I stay here.
- Where did you put my cigars?
- Wrong!
Wrong, wrong!
This is not what I want at all.
What's the problem?
The problem is
that you're missing
the character altogether.
Is that so?
I assume you read the play.
What kind of crack is that?
If you had,
it would be obvious that
Cecil Carmichael is a fighter.
He's Don Quixote.
He's one man against the world.
You're playing him like a
man with one foot in the grave.
I'm playing him the
way I interpret him.
Your interpretation
leaves a lot to be desired.
So does your regard
for the opinion of actors.
I suggest you take some
time and think about the scene.
No, thanks.
What for?
So you can tear it apart again?
You don't like the way I act,
get yourself another boy.
That's the first decent
exit he's made all day.
Are you out of your mind?
You just gonna let him walk?
I never should've let you talk
me into Dreiser in the first place.
He was never right for the part.
The man who plays Cecil Carmichael
has to know what growing old means
from the inside out.
He has to be old.
No makeup, no make-believe. I
want someone as old as the character!
We're two weeks
from an air date.
You're the one who wanted to
bring back the good ol' days of live TV.
The great experiment. Tell me,
where are you going to find a seventy-year
old actor who can do this part?
- I won't have
to look very far.
- What?
He's sitting right here.
What're you talking about?
That man over there.
- Morris Perlmutter.
- Come on, get serious.
I'm perfectly serious.
You've got to be kidding me.
Morris who?
Just...
Mr. Perlmutter?
Could you come
here for a moment?
Yeah, you.
Bear with me.
- Perlmutter?
- Bear with me.
- How old are you, Morris?
- Seventy-one, sir.
Think you could play that part?
Beg your pardon?
Are you deaf?
I said, do you think
you could play the lead?
The lead, sir? I don't know.
I'm talking about a chance
to play Cecil Carmichael,
and you're hemming and
hawing... You don't know?
It's just so...
I mean, it's an
awfully big part, sir.
Will you stop "sir" -ing me? You're
old enough to be my grandfather.
Look, excuse me, Mr. Perlmutter.
I was just following an impulse
that should've been left alone.
Why don't you just
go sit back down?
Okay?
All right,
so maybe not
someone quite that old,
but for God sakes, at least
give me someone who can act.
One moment, Mr. Davies.
Just who the hell do you
think you're talking to?
How dare you ridicule me!
You rude, egotistical,
impudent young man.
I could teach you more
about this part in five minutes
than you could teach
me in a lifetime of trying.
You wouldn't know a real
actor if he walked up and bit you.
You have all the manners of a
spoiled child and about as much talent.
I've got half a mind to take you over my
knee and spank the daylights out of you,
which is what somebody
should've done a long time ago!
Nobody is gonna make a
fool out of Morris Perlmutter.
Certainly not a half-baked,
overrated no-talent bum like you!
What'd I tell you?
He'll be sensational.
Oh, Uncle Morris,
if I had my way, you could
stay with us as long as you liked.
And if I had my way,
you wouldn't be married to
that sorry excuse for a husband.
Yeah?
Is this Morris
Perlmutter's apartment?
He seems to think so.
I'm Roland Davies, his
director in the production he's in.
- You're Roland Davies?
- Yes, I am.
Come on in.
You know, I saw you on
the Emmys. You were terrific.
I'm his niece, Miriam.
How do you do? Roland
Davies. Is Morris in?
Right this way.
Please. I'd like
to see him alone?
Oh, the first
door on your right.
Thank you. Thank you.
Why not? It's only my place.
Come in.
Look, if you've come here for an
apology, you're not going to get one.
And if you're here to offer
me one, I won't accept it.
- I'm not here for apologies.
- You're a rude young man.
I meant every word I said.
I'm here to offer you the lead.
In all my years on
the stage, I've never...
What did you say?
I want you for the part
of Cecil Carmichael.
Just like that.
Without an audition?
You've already auditioned.
Wait a minute. Something
doesn't make sense here.
Have you ever seen me work?
No.
Then what's the gimmick?
Let me show you something.
You recognize these gents?
That's me and Billy Sheehan
outside the Knickerbocker
Theater in Minneapolis.
Now there was an actor's actor.
I played Othello to his Iago.
I worked my butt off,
and he stole the play.
- That's what he
said about you.
- Where'd you get this picture?
Billy Sheehan was
my grandfather.
- What?
- That's right.
You're Billy's grandson?
That's right.
Did he ever tell you about the time
we rented that suite at The Plaza?
Oh, yes! I remember that
story! That's a great one!
I used to spend whole evenings
listening to him tell his theater stories.
But he always ended
with the story of the man
he said was the greatest
actor he ever worked with.
He talked about the
Wise Men of Green Street.
About a ten-minute soliloquy
and the standing ovation
that actor got, right in the
middle of a dramatic play.
As if he'd just sung a
show-stopper in some musical.
A lot of good it did me.
The play didn't last a week.
But my grandfather
never forgot it.
Neither did I.
Morris.
That's the kind of
performance I want, Morris.
And I know you
can give it to me.
You're Billy's grandson, huh?
Well, if he'd have seen
the way you behaved today,
you would've never
heard the end of it.
I rode you to prove a
point to my producer.
You tried to provoke me?
It worked, didn't it?
Well, didn't it?
You got yourself a lead, mister.
Well, I...
Rehearsal at 10:00
sharp tomorrow morning.
Good night. Thank you.
We couldn't help but overhear.
Uncle Morris, the lead.
- I can't believe it!
- I always knew you
could do it, Uncle Morris.
I'm not your uncle.
If you want me,
darlin', I'll be at Jimmy's.
And you can visit me at
rehearsal anytime you like.
"To Cecil Carmichael
"for fifty years
of loyal service."
Oh, it's a beautiful
plaque, grandpa.
- It may as well be my epitaph.
- Don't be morbid, Cecil.
You're digging my grave and
telling me not to be morbid?
You know what
that plaque is for?
It's for endurance.
Longevity.
It's a reward for being too
stubborn to retire voluntarily.
Can we just hold it?
Just for a minute here?
Well, er...
Something in this speech has
been bothering me all week.
I feel very close
to this character.
I think if he brought
it back to the love
he's given his work...
Lemme show you what I mean.
Please.
It's a reward to
retire voluntarily.
Fifty years.
Fifty years
of love I've given that job...
I don't want to retire.
Is it so hard to
understand that?
You're not going to
stow me out of sight
like some obsolete relic.
I won't go to that place!
You see what I mean?
I see exactly what you mean.
It's wonderful.
It's wonderful.
Well...
Thank you all for a
very, very good day.
All right, let's call
it a day till Monday.
Are those instincts or what?
You still nervous?
I'll stop shaking when we
fade to black ten days from now.
Okay, good night.
Morris, can I see
you for a moment?
- I'll catch up with you.
- Good night.
Very nice work, Morris.
Thank you.
Cecil and I are finally
getting acquainted.
Morris, I realize you came into
rehearsals later than everyone else,
and you've got the
lion's share of dialogue...
You're worried 'cause
I'm still using the book?
We'll be going into the studio
next week to block it on camera.
Look, I know practically
all of it already.
There's just a couple of rough
spots. I don't need the book.
This is live TV.
You'll be working without a net.
No problem. I've got
a reputation for lines.
Monday, I'll have the
whole play down cold.
Okay.
Morris,
I can't tell you
how pleased I am.
You're putting everything I
wanted into the character.
Just get those lines now.
Don't worry. I'll have
'em cold on Monday.
You'll see.
Cold by Monday.
Cold by Monday.
I've got it, I've got it. Hey,
Jimmy. Let's do it one more time.
Jimmy... Jimmy! Wake up, Jimmy.
Hey, Jimmy, come on. Wake up.
- Give me one more time.
- Huh? What?
Jimmy.
- What time is it?
- It's 12:30.
12:30? I gotta get to bed.
Just one more time.
Look, once I get this scene
licked with the kid, I've got it made.
I'm so tired.
I have to know these
lines by Monday.
- I promised them
I'd know the lines!
- All right, all right.
From "Can people die..."
"Can people die of old age
"if nothing's wrong with
them except they old?"
Old age is not a disease.
Age is what makes
wines and liars great.
"I think you're
gonna live forever.
"I remember, I must've
been younger than you."
I know the line!
No wonder. You
read the line wrong.
You didn't say
"great-grandpa". That's the cue.
That's how I remember it.
You're trying to screw me up!
- What?
- It's plain as day.
You're jealous of me.
Morris, I'm tired, that's all.
No, not tired. It's
'cause of Violet.
You're jealous 'cause Violet got
weak-kneed every time I walked in the room.
You're jealous
because I got this part!
You want to see me fail.
You want to see me
make a fool out of myself!
- I should've known better.
- No, no.
- From years back...
- No, Morris, no!
It's just that I'm so tired.
Morris... Morris, I'm sorry...
Look, let's do it again.
Hey, I'm gonna
take that script...
We're gonna do it again.
I promise you that
I'm gonna get it right.
I won't mess up. I
promise you that, Morris.
- I promise. I promise!
- Hey, hey...
It's all right, Jimmy.
I didn't mean it. I'm sorry.
I'm my fault. I'm sorry.
We know the blood on that glass is type
A, and we've identified three subgroups.
Not bad for that small a sample.
- Doctor Quincy.
- Eugenia!
This lady insists
on talking to you.
It's all right, Pete.
Doctor Quincy, I thought you
should be the one to see this.
I don't trust the police.
That's the killer. The
young man in this picture.
He's the one who killed Violet.
Eugenia, are you sure?
I'm absolutely positive.
I'll never forget that face.
But this boy, it's Cliff Thompson.
He's the son of the City Councilman.
He's also the man who
shot my sister to death.
I'll swear to it on a stack
of Bibles. He's the killer.
Come in! Come in!
- You asked to see me, sir?
- Quincy, I'd like you
to meet David Stillwell.
- How do you do?
- Not so well,
I'm sorry to say.
Mr. Stillwell is Cliff
Thompson's lawyer...
You know, the City
Councilman's son.
Quincy, maybe you
better have a seat.
Well...
Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor.
You have asked my client
to submit to a blood test
because you suspect him of
the murder of one Violet Winston?
Actually, it's her sister,
Eugenia, who suspects him.
Exactly so.
A 72-year-old woman, with a
history of senility in the family,
which your own autopsy revealed,
alleges that a grainy newspaper
photo of Cliff Thompson
resembles the man she saw
for an instant in a dimly lit room.
And on that basis
you're going to brand
a perfectly innocent
boy a criminal?
Come on, Doctor
Quincy. What kind of a
- witch hunt are
you engaged in?
- No witch hunt.
A blood test would
put the matter to rest.
Well...
Let me cut through
a lot of chess moves.
If we submit to the test,
or if we refuse it, the
press will have a field day.
And why?
Because a grieving,
hysterical old biddy
is seeing murderers
under her bed.
Are you done, Mr. Stillwell?
Not quite. I want you to withdraw
the request for a blood sample,
and say it was all
a misunderstanding.
It may well turn out to
be a misunderstanding.
But Eugenia Winston
has lost her sister.
I owe it to her to take her
accusation seriously, despite her age.
Doctor Asten?
I'll have to go along
with Doctor Quincy.
If the boy is innocent,
the information will
be given to the public.
Very well.
Then you can expect a lawsuit
with more goose
eggs than a no-hitter.
Thanks for backing me up.
I hope we are on
the winning team.
So do I.
Morris! Pete told me you
were here. Waiting long?
Hello, Quincy. Hope I'm not
interrupting something important.
Not at all. It's not often I
get visited by a celebrity.
I called Eugenia this morning
to see how she was doing.
She told me about your
big break. Congratulations.
I've been admiring your
commendations, your degrees.
You must be very proud
of your accomplishments.
- Yeah. Please, sit down.
- Oh, thanks.
You know,
my first job in the
theater, I had one line.
I played a drunkard.
"You call this swill beer?"
That was my one line.
But I gave it all I had.
I went to taverns,
watched the drunks.
The way they walked,
the way they sat,
the way they
scratched their noses...
Morris, why did you
come to see me?
It's nothing, really...
You didn't come down
here for nothing. What is it?
Well...
You know, next birthday
I'll be seventy-two.
Gettin' up there.
I've always prided myself
on my memory for lines.
If you're an actor,
you die for that ability.
But recently, I forget...
I lose track.
I can't remember lines, names...
I'm in the middle of a sentence
and I don't know where I'm going
or where I've been.
I guess the old grey matter
doesn't work the same
as when you're young.
Short-term memory loss is not
that uncommon as you get older.
Yeah.
You wouldn't have some
pill or something, just to get me
through this one performance?
I wish I had a magic
answer for you. I don't.
- Don't hurt to ask, right?
- No.
It's the way the
cookie crumbles.
Hey, you come on
down to rehearsal now.
You hear?
Doctor, I'm scared.
I'm afraid I'm losing my mind.
Quincy, honestly,
sometimes you can
be so short-sighted.
The man was
coming to you for help.
I know he was
coming to me for help.
He wanted some instant
cure for his memory problem.
You're doing fine on the trees,
now how about
looking at the forest?
- What're you talking about?
- Senility.
That's what Morris is
afraid is happening to him.
Well, he is over
seventy years old.
- Gin.
- Gin?
Oh, boy.
Twenty-eight.
- Twenty-eight?
- Yeah, twenty-eight.
Why don't you believe
me? I'm not gonna cheat.
You'd win anyway.
The game's over.
Why does everyone assume that
aging and senility go hand in hand?
Well, don't they?
If you're asking me, "Is it
an inevitable result of aging?"
Then nothing could
be further from the truth.
But people do get senile.
What about Violet Winston?
Of course there's real senility.
But there's also
pseudo-senility.
Hundreds of thousands of people
who get diagnosed as
senile aren't senile at all.
Their mental confusion is caused by
a hundred different physical ailments
and any number of
psychological problems.
What's really tragic is
that once a patient
is misdiagnosed,
what may have started out as correctable,
could wind up as permanent damage.
I want you to give Morris
the name of a geriatrician
over at the Kellerbaugh
Center. Jerry Whitlow.
He can give him a
complete physical
and I'd be happy to do
the psychological testing.
Okay. Okay.
The subject of senility
really gets your juices going.
Yes, it does.
It happened to my
own father, Quince.
I haven't talked much
about my father, have I?
Growing up, I thought the only difference
between my father and Superman
was that Superman was
vulnerable to kryptonite.
My father was a wonderful man.
He was like a Rock of
Gibraltar to my mom and me.
I really loved him.
Then...
About the time I
entered high school, he...
I don't know, something
happened to him.
He became increasingly
absent-minded.
I mean, not about big
things. Little things, like...
Forgetting where
he put his glasses.
He would embarrass my mother by
not remembering anybody's name.
The doctor said it was senility.
He said it like he was
passing down a sentence.
And after that,
all the fire seemed to
go right out of my father.
And because he was
supposedly senile,
nobody bothered to find
out what might be causing it.
By the time we found a doctor
who correctly diagnosed
his vascular problems,
it was too late.
He died of a heart attack
the year I finished college.
So you see,
what happens to
Morris Perlmutter
matters very much to me.
Quincy, Councilman
Thompson's son is here
for that blood
sample to be taken.
The Declaration of Independence
didn't have this many witnesses.
Let's get on with
it, Doctor Quincy.
This is Cliff Thompson.
Just have a seat over here,
Cliff. This won't take a minute.
Cut yourself, huh?
I was helping my dad tear
down an old fence in the garden.
Must've been nasty.
I survived.
You got the
electrophoresis results?
I've got the electrophoresis
results on Cliff Thompson's blood.
Eddie took photos
of the banding.
This is the
glyoxalase-one-system.
Here's the blood
from the crime scene,
and the boy's blood.
One band each.
They're both group two.
Yep.
And that's where
the similarity ends.
The blood stain is type 1.
The boy's type 2-1.
And the esterase, D.
The bloodstain type 2.
Cliff Thompson's
blood type, 2-1.
It's definitely not him.
Eugenia was wrong.
I'll let Monahan know.
- Oh, Sam.
- Yeah?
And remind me to give
the boy's doctor a call.
He has an abnormally
high red blood cell count.
It could be a sign of
a medical problem.
Sure.
Are you all right, Quince?
No, no, I was just
hoping she'd be right.
Can people die of old age
if nothing's wrong with
them except they're old?
Age isn't a disease.
Age is what makes
wines and liars great.
You know what I think?
I think you're gonna live
forever, great-grandpa.
I remember, I must've
been younger than you.
One day I got to wonder why...
Why we don't just grow and grow
and grow until we're taller than trees,
bigger than houses.
I completely forget
completely about death.
Forever...
What kinda transition is that?
Uh...
I used to think
the ol' four-ten,
the steamer from Council Bluffs,
would run forever.
Um...
"Here I am. I out-lasted
the whole damn railroad."
What's that?
"Here I am. I out-lasted
the whole damn railroad.'"
Let's start your
speech again, from
"I remember, I must've
been younger..."
Well, I remember, 'cause...
I was much younger than you.
But I remember wondering
why we don't just grow,
and grow, and grow,
taller than the trees.
Bigger than the house.
"Howl, howl, howl.
"You are men of stones.
"If I have your
tongues and eyes...
"If I had your tongues and eyes,
"I would use them so..."
Thank you, doctor.
Now that is very odd.
- What's odd?
- That was Cliff
Thompson's doctor.
I told him about the high red
blood count we got on the boy.
He says we must've
made some mistake.
For the past two years, he's been
treating the boy for mild anemia.
Then he should have too few
red blood cells, not too many.
Sam, go back and run another
set of electrophoresis plates
on his blood sample.
I'd like to take a close
look at the haptoglobin.
Any particular reason?
Call it a hunch.
- Hi, Quince.
- Oh, Ed, listen.
Could you photograph the
electrophoresis plate for Sam?
- Yeah,
I'll just give it to him.
- Thanks.
- Sam.
- Sorry it took
so long, Quince.
What did we get?
The boy's blood was
haptoglobin type 2 and 1.
- 2-1?
- No.
There's a 1-band
and a 2-band, but no 2-1
band. Your hunch was right.
It sure was.
This blood isn't type 2-1, but
a mixture of type 2 and type 1.
There's only one
way it's possible.
Cliff Thompson must
have had a transfusion
after he committed the crime.
That's why there were
too many red blood cells.
That's why the
blood didn't match!
I took another look at the first
plates I ran of the boy's blood.
Some of the bands were twice
as strong as they should be.
If I delete those extra bands,
Cliff Thompson's blood matches the
blood on the broken glass perfectly.
Eugenia Winston's not crazy.
Cliff Thompson
did kill her sister.
Where the hell have you been?
Today is camera day!
Rehearsal was for 8:00.
We go on the air
tomorrow, Morris!
Tomorrow!
Not me.
Boy, was my grandfather
wrong about you.
He said you were the best.
A real professional.
He must be turning over
in his grave right now.
I stuck my neck out a
hundred miles for you...
I took a chance on an unknown,
a guy only theater
buffs had ever heard of.
Why the hell did you
become an actor, anyway?
That's a good question.
It's given me nothing
but pain and heartache.
One slap in the
face after another.
You climb out on that stage, and
every time you think, "This is it."
And the next day,
the theater's dark,
and there's a guy on a ladder
taking your name off the marquee.
I can't go through it again.
Not anymore.
You owe me, Morris.
Morris, whether
you like it or not,
you'll be out in front of
those cameras Friday night.
And make a fool of myself in front
of millions of people? No, thanks.
I don't remember the
lines, you know that.
I cannot remember the lines.
Which is the better ear?
- This one.
- Let me see the piece.
Okay.
I will have the sound department
build a radio phone for your ear.
It'll look like a hearing aid.
If you forget the dialogue,
we'll prompt you from the booth.
Now, you got any
other complaints?
Can I finish my lunch?
Yeah.
All right, camera one. Let me
see your opening position, please.
Okay, that's good. Lock
it. Camera two, please.
That's fine. Three.
Okay.
Can you hear me, Morris?
Can you hear me, Morris?
Nod if you can hear me.
Open up a little on camera two.
Remember, Morris, if
you get stuck for a line,
we'll feed it to you.
Fifteen seconds
to air. Stand by.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Playhouse America is proud to
present The Man Who Refused To Die.
And now, act one.
"To Cecil Carmichael
"for fifty years
of loyal service."
It's a beautiful
plaque, Grandpa.
- What's goin' on?
- Give him the line.
"It may as well be my epitaph."
Give him the line again.
"It may as well be my epitaph."
Are you all right, Grandpa?
You know, I don't know
why they gave me this
hearing aid. I don't
need the damn thing!
He took out the radio
phone! Kill the picture.
Quiet!
Go to camera three.
Anyway, I think it's
a lovely inscription.
- It may as well be my epitaph.
- Don't be morbid, Cecil.
You're digging my grave
and tell me not to be morbid?
You know what
this plague is for?
It's for endurance. Longevity.
It's a reward for being too
stubborn to retire voluntarily.
- For fifty years...
- He's doin' it.
He's doin' it!
He's pulling it off!
I don't want to retire.
Is it too hard to
understand that?
I feel like I've been
shut away in a trunk.
The only sound is my voice.
Buried alive in broad daylight.
No one knows I'm here.
No one looks in my direction.
No one asks for my opinion.
I must be too old to have one.
Too old for ambitions,
desires.
Maybe I'm too old
to be of any use.
"Hurry up and die,
Mr. Carmichael.
"It's the polite thing to do."
Well, I'm not
going to be polite.
I won't oblige them.
I don't have time to die.
I've got my whole
life ahead of me.
Go to commercial.
I told you he was
a corker, didn't I?
I told you!
Those last few lines,
were they in the script?
They are now.
a perfectly innocent
boy a criminal?
Cut yourself, huh?
She's gone forever!
That is Morris Perlmutter.
I can teach you more in
five minutes about that part
than you could teach
me in a lifetime of trying.
Do you think you
could play the lead?
But recently, I forget...
Short-term memory loss isn't
uncommon as you grow older.
Hundreds of thousands of people
who're diagnosed as
senile aren't senile at all?
Doctor, I'm scared. I'm
afraid I'm losing my mind.
Gentlemen, you
are about to enter
the most fascinating
sphere of police work,
the world of forensic medicine.
You can tell Mr. DeMille
I won't film in Morocco
in the heat of August.
It's out of the question.
I may just get on
the ship-to-shore
and tell him myself.
Oh, steward...
Violet!
Oh, no!
No!
God, no!
Body is that of Violet
Winston. Age seventy-two.
Height 163 centimeters.
Weight, approximately
fifty-one kilograms.
Something the matter, Quince?
Seventy-two.
That would make her about the
right age. She even looks the same.
You know this woman?
Unless I'm wrong, this is
the same Violet Winston
who was big in the
theater back in the '30s.
- You're older than you look.
- Very funny.
She and her sister had
an act I was crazy about.
It was her sister
that found her.
She also got a look at the
killer before he got away.
What's her sister's name?
- Her name is Eugenia.
- Eugenia!
The Winston sisters
and Morris somebody.
They were the toast
of the Catskills Circuit.
My folks said they went all
the way back to vaudeville.
I saw them as a kid in a play
called The Jester's Journal.
- They must've made
quite an impression.
- Are you kidding?
They put on the most dazzling
performances I'd ever seen.
At the age of nine, I didn't
know which one I loved more.
Some finale isn't it, Sam?
Murdered in her own home
for a handful of costume jewelry.
- Let's get started.
- Okay.
Here.
Here's the only bullet fragment
that remained in the body.
Awfully small.
We're not going to be
able to tell much from that.
Let's get a section of brain
tissue from the wound track.
I'd like to check for powder
residues under the microscope.
Right.
See the way those
nerve cells look?
Neurofibrillary tangles.
And the nerve endings
are degenerated.
Those are plaques.
Violet Winston had
Alzheimer's disease.
From the extent of the tissue breakdown,
the dementia must've been quite severe.
Hey, Sam.
- Hey, you still
drinking that stuff?
- Yep.
- You finish
the post on Violet Winston?
- Yeah.
And about all I'm sure of is that she
was in an advanced stage of senility.
That doesn't tell us
much about her killer.
Neither did our autopsy.
She was killed by a
shotgun wound to the head,
but the bullet fragment we
found had no rifling marks.
Same with the
pieces our boys found.
I'll tell you what
they did find...
Some of the killer's blood.
Oh, Sam, present for ya.
Where'd that come from?
He cut himself on the
window he broke to get in.
You wouldn't believe the fight I had
with Mayhew in Crime Lab to get this.
I figured you should
be the one to type it.
You figured right. Thanks.
- I better get
started on ABO typing.
- Okay, we gotta run.
Okay.
Oh, Quincy,
did you say the
victim was senile?
She had a degenerative
brain disease.
Her older sister is
coming in a couple of hours
to go over the mug files.
- I wasn't holding out
too much hope, anyway.
- Wait a minute.
Would you mind if I dropped over
when Eugenia Winston is there?
Sure. Would you
mind if I asked why?
A long time ago, she took
me on a magic carpet ride.
I never got a
chance to thank her.
- Magic carpet?
- Yeah.
- See you later.
- Okay.
That's him!
No, no. The chin is all wrong.
He had this
dreadful little cleft.
Sorry, it's definitely not him.
Wait a minute...
Wait a minute...
No. He had meaner eyes.
He's got the chin though.
That's the last of the
mug shots, Ms. Winston.
It could be the guy doesn't
have a criminal record, you know?
If I saw him again, I'd know it.
I may be old, but I
never forget a face.
And I'll never get that
face out of my mind. Never.
Homicide. Monahan.
Yes, Captain. Be right there.
My apologies. Captain
wants me in a pow-wow.
Ms. Winston, how about if
somebody take you home?
Oh, how nice.
Thank you, officer.
Oh, I'm not a police officer. I'm
Dr. Quincy. I'm with the coroner's office.
And I'm also one
of the biggest fans
you and your sister ever had.
How flattering, Dr. Quincy.
I don't mean to
flatter. It's the truth.
I thought your performance in The
Jester's Journal was magnificent.
Not to mention your sketches
in Smokey Mountain Review.
Your act brought the house down.
Smoky Mountain Review?
You didn't see the one where we
slide down that flagpole at the start?
I sure did.
That was Morris' idea.
Our partner, Morris Perlmutter.
His first love may have
been the legitimate stage,
but he couldn't
resist a pratfall.
Believe me, Ms. Winston.
We'll do whatever's humanly
possible to find the man responsible
for your sister's murder.
Thank you, yes.
You know, I...
I shouldn't ask
this of a stranger.
Most of our friends have passed
on. Violet and I don't have a family.
What I mean to say is,
I don't know how many people
will be able to come to her funeral.
It would mean so much
to her, if a fan were there.
Someone to represent the thing she
loved more than anything in the world,
her audience.
I know it's asking an awful
lot, but if you're not too busy,
it'll be at Cedar Hills
at 1:00, tomorrow.
I'd consider it an honor.
To everyone who knew her,
Violet Winston was the
very embodiment of life.
There was the fire in her eyes.
The openness of her heart.
Her childlike innocence.
The irrepressible
enthusiasm for each new day.
Old age may have
slowed her down.
But it didn't still
her soaring spirit.
Her greatest
happiness was in giving.
And if you were lucky enough to
see her on the stage in her heyday,
you know what it was
she was best at giving.
It was herself.
Howl!
Howl!
Howl, howl!
You are men of stones.
Had I your tongues and eyes,
I'd use them so that
heaven's vault should crack!
She's gone
forever!
No.
No life!
Why should a dog, a horse,
a rat, have life?
And thou no breath at all?
She is gone
forever.
- Who's that?
- That...
That is Morris Perlmutter.
We'll all miss Violet.
Thank you so much for coming.
Which was longer
than the play lasted.
But you've gotta admit,
it was a great two weeks.
They sound like wonderful times.
They were more than wonderful.
It's almost impossible to describe.
The excitement, the costumes,
the music, the laughter...
The cheap hotels,
the all-night bus rides.
There were nights you could
reach out and feel the electricity.
The applause...
Yeah, that's what you miss most.
You make it sound
like it's all over.
The parade hasn't passed me by.
I stop acting, I stop breathing.
Do you get much
opportunity to act?
I do some television.
Movies, now and then.
He means we're extras
when they need some old
geezers in the background.
Well, it so happens, they
still ask for me by name.
That's how I got this part
in the play we're in now...
The Man Who Refused To Die.
It'll be on live TV in three weeks.
We play checkers
for ninety minutes.
The man they have in the lead
role, an actor named Hugo Dreiser...
- I've heard he's terrific.
- He's awful.
He gives mediocrity a bad name.
No feel for the character.
He's got no
subtlety. No reserve.
If I had a part like that, I'm tellin'
you, I could go like a house afire.
I'd like to see you try to get through
the lines that guy's gotta remember.
In Green Street, I had
a nine page monologue.
Learned it in one sitting.
That wasn't exactly
last Christmas.
That was forty years ago.
I could do it
today, if I had to.
- Maybe we should be going.
- I think so.
- If there's
anything I can do...
- Thank you for coming.
- Bye, dear.
- You too.
We have a late
rehearsal to get to.
I'll be along in a minute.
Good-bye, Eugenia.
I'm so sorry about Violet.
My deepest condolences.
Thank you, Jimmy.
Now that Violet's gone,
we're both alone.
It didn't have to be that way.
When I think of the times
I was so close to
asking for your hand...
Once I even bought the ring.
But I promised myself,
not until I can
provide a decent living.
I've had a hard enough
time supporting myself.
You think it would've
mattered to me?
It mattered to me.
It still matters to me.
You deserve better
than marrying a flop.
You were never
a flop in my eyes.
I still haven't given up hope.
Who are you after?
Me, or Lady Luck?
And all these years I thought
you were one and the same.
Look at these people.
They've given up.
They've surrendered.
White flags everywhere.
I'll die if I stay here.
- Where did you put my cigars?
- Wrong!
Wrong, wrong!
This is not what I want at all.
What's the problem?
The problem is
that you're missing
the character altogether.
Is that so?
I assume you read the play.
What kind of crack is that?
If you had,
it would be obvious that
Cecil Carmichael is a fighter.
He's Don Quixote.
He's one man against the world.
You're playing him like a
man with one foot in the grave.
I'm playing him the
way I interpret him.
Your interpretation
leaves a lot to be desired.
So does your regard
for the opinion of actors.
I suggest you take some
time and think about the scene.
No, thanks.
What for?
So you can tear it apart again?
You don't like the way I act,
get yourself another boy.
That's the first decent
exit he's made all day.
Are you out of your mind?
You just gonna let him walk?
I never should've let you talk
me into Dreiser in the first place.
He was never right for the part.
The man who plays Cecil Carmichael
has to know what growing old means
from the inside out.
He has to be old.
No makeup, no make-believe. I
want someone as old as the character!
We're two weeks
from an air date.
You're the one who wanted to
bring back the good ol' days of live TV.
The great experiment. Tell me,
where are you going to find a seventy-year
old actor who can do this part?
- I won't have
to look very far.
- What?
He's sitting right here.
What're you talking about?
That man over there.
- Morris Perlmutter.
- Come on, get serious.
I'm perfectly serious.
You've got to be kidding me.
Morris who?
Just...
Mr. Perlmutter?
Could you come
here for a moment?
Yeah, you.
Bear with me.
- Perlmutter?
- Bear with me.
- How old are you, Morris?
- Seventy-one, sir.
Think you could play that part?
Beg your pardon?
Are you deaf?
I said, do you think
you could play the lead?
The lead, sir? I don't know.
I'm talking about a chance
to play Cecil Carmichael,
and you're hemming and
hawing... You don't know?
It's just so...
I mean, it's an
awfully big part, sir.
Will you stop "sir" -ing me? You're
old enough to be my grandfather.
Look, excuse me, Mr. Perlmutter.
I was just following an impulse
that should've been left alone.
Why don't you just
go sit back down?
Okay?
All right,
so maybe not
someone quite that old,
but for God sakes, at least
give me someone who can act.
One moment, Mr. Davies.
Just who the hell do you
think you're talking to?
How dare you ridicule me!
You rude, egotistical,
impudent young man.
I could teach you more
about this part in five minutes
than you could teach
me in a lifetime of trying.
You wouldn't know a real
actor if he walked up and bit you.
You have all the manners of a
spoiled child and about as much talent.
I've got half a mind to take you over my
knee and spank the daylights out of you,
which is what somebody
should've done a long time ago!
Nobody is gonna make a
fool out of Morris Perlmutter.
Certainly not a half-baked,
overrated no-talent bum like you!
What'd I tell you?
He'll be sensational.
Oh, Uncle Morris,
if I had my way, you could
stay with us as long as you liked.
And if I had my way,
you wouldn't be married to
that sorry excuse for a husband.
Yeah?
Is this Morris
Perlmutter's apartment?
He seems to think so.
I'm Roland Davies, his
director in the production he's in.
- You're Roland Davies?
- Yes, I am.
Come on in.
You know, I saw you on
the Emmys. You were terrific.
I'm his niece, Miriam.
How do you do? Roland
Davies. Is Morris in?
Right this way.
Please. I'd like
to see him alone?
Oh, the first
door on your right.
Thank you. Thank you.
Why not? It's only my place.
Come in.
Look, if you've come here for an
apology, you're not going to get one.
And if you're here to offer
me one, I won't accept it.
- I'm not here for apologies.
- You're a rude young man.
I meant every word I said.
I'm here to offer you the lead.
In all my years on
the stage, I've never...
What did you say?
I want you for the part
of Cecil Carmichael.
Just like that.
Without an audition?
You've already auditioned.
Wait a minute. Something
doesn't make sense here.
Have you ever seen me work?
No.
Then what's the gimmick?
Let me show you something.
You recognize these gents?
That's me and Billy Sheehan
outside the Knickerbocker
Theater in Minneapolis.
Now there was an actor's actor.
I played Othello to his Iago.
I worked my butt off,
and he stole the play.
- That's what he
said about you.
- Where'd you get this picture?
Billy Sheehan was
my grandfather.
- What?
- That's right.
You're Billy's grandson?
That's right.
Did he ever tell you about the time
we rented that suite at The Plaza?
Oh, yes! I remember that
story! That's a great one!
I used to spend whole evenings
listening to him tell his theater stories.
But he always ended
with the story of the man
he said was the greatest
actor he ever worked with.
He talked about the
Wise Men of Green Street.
About a ten-minute soliloquy
and the standing ovation
that actor got, right in the
middle of a dramatic play.
As if he'd just sung a
show-stopper in some musical.
A lot of good it did me.
The play didn't last a week.
But my grandfather
never forgot it.
Neither did I.
Morris.
That's the kind of
performance I want, Morris.
And I know you
can give it to me.
You're Billy's grandson, huh?
Well, if he'd have seen
the way you behaved today,
you would've never
heard the end of it.
I rode you to prove a
point to my producer.
You tried to provoke me?
It worked, didn't it?
Well, didn't it?
You got yourself a lead, mister.
Well, I...
Rehearsal at 10:00
sharp tomorrow morning.
Good night. Thank you.
We couldn't help but overhear.
Uncle Morris, the lead.
- I can't believe it!
- I always knew you
could do it, Uncle Morris.
I'm not your uncle.
If you want me,
darlin', I'll be at Jimmy's.
And you can visit me at
rehearsal anytime you like.
"To Cecil Carmichael
"for fifty years
of loyal service."
Oh, it's a beautiful
plaque, grandpa.
- It may as well be my epitaph.
- Don't be morbid, Cecil.
You're digging my grave and
telling me not to be morbid?
You know what
that plaque is for?
It's for endurance.
Longevity.
It's a reward for being too
stubborn to retire voluntarily.
Can we just hold it?
Just for a minute here?
Well, er...
Something in this speech has
been bothering me all week.
I feel very close
to this character.
I think if he brought
it back to the love
he's given his work...
Lemme show you what I mean.
Please.
It's a reward to
retire voluntarily.
Fifty years.
Fifty years
of love I've given that job...
I don't want to retire.
Is it so hard to
understand that?
You're not going to
stow me out of sight
like some obsolete relic.
I won't go to that place!
You see what I mean?
I see exactly what you mean.
It's wonderful.
It's wonderful.
Well...
Thank you all for a
very, very good day.
All right, let's call
it a day till Monday.
Are those instincts or what?
You still nervous?
I'll stop shaking when we
fade to black ten days from now.
Okay, good night.
Morris, can I see
you for a moment?
- I'll catch up with you.
- Good night.
Very nice work, Morris.
Thank you.
Cecil and I are finally
getting acquainted.
Morris, I realize you came into
rehearsals later than everyone else,
and you've got the
lion's share of dialogue...
You're worried 'cause
I'm still using the book?
We'll be going into the studio
next week to block it on camera.
Look, I know practically
all of it already.
There's just a couple of rough
spots. I don't need the book.
This is live TV.
You'll be working without a net.
No problem. I've got
a reputation for lines.
Monday, I'll have the
whole play down cold.
Okay.
Morris,
I can't tell you
how pleased I am.
You're putting everything I
wanted into the character.
Just get those lines now.
Don't worry. I'll have
'em cold on Monday.
You'll see.
Cold by Monday.
Cold by Monday.
I've got it, I've got it. Hey,
Jimmy. Let's do it one more time.
Jimmy... Jimmy! Wake up, Jimmy.
Hey, Jimmy, come on. Wake up.
- Give me one more time.
- Huh? What?
Jimmy.
- What time is it?
- It's 12:30.
12:30? I gotta get to bed.
Just one more time.
Look, once I get this scene
licked with the kid, I've got it made.
I'm so tired.
I have to know these
lines by Monday.
- I promised them
I'd know the lines!
- All right, all right.
From "Can people die..."
"Can people die of old age
"if nothing's wrong with
them except they old?"
Old age is not a disease.
Age is what makes
wines and liars great.
"I think you're
gonna live forever.
"I remember, I must've
been younger than you."
I know the line!
No wonder. You
read the line wrong.
You didn't say
"great-grandpa". That's the cue.
That's how I remember it.
You're trying to screw me up!
- What?
- It's plain as day.
You're jealous of me.
Morris, I'm tired, that's all.
No, not tired. It's
'cause of Violet.
You're jealous 'cause Violet got
weak-kneed every time I walked in the room.
You're jealous
because I got this part!
You want to see me fail.
You want to see me
make a fool out of myself!
- I should've known better.
- No, no.
- From years back...
- No, Morris, no!
It's just that I'm so tired.
Morris... Morris, I'm sorry...
Look, let's do it again.
Hey, I'm gonna
take that script...
We're gonna do it again.
I promise you that
I'm gonna get it right.
I won't mess up. I
promise you that, Morris.
- I promise. I promise!
- Hey, hey...
It's all right, Jimmy.
I didn't mean it. I'm sorry.
I'm my fault. I'm sorry.
We know the blood on that glass is type
A, and we've identified three subgroups.
Not bad for that small a sample.
- Doctor Quincy.
- Eugenia!
This lady insists
on talking to you.
It's all right, Pete.
Doctor Quincy, I thought you
should be the one to see this.
I don't trust the police.
That's the killer. The
young man in this picture.
He's the one who killed Violet.
Eugenia, are you sure?
I'm absolutely positive.
I'll never forget that face.
But this boy, it's Cliff Thompson.
He's the son of the City Councilman.
He's also the man who
shot my sister to death.
I'll swear to it on a stack
of Bibles. He's the killer.
Come in! Come in!
- You asked to see me, sir?
- Quincy, I'd like you
to meet David Stillwell.
- How do you do?
- Not so well,
I'm sorry to say.
Mr. Stillwell is Cliff
Thompson's lawyer...
You know, the City
Councilman's son.
Quincy, maybe you
better have a seat.
Well...
Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor.
You have asked my client
to submit to a blood test
because you suspect him of
the murder of one Violet Winston?
Actually, it's her sister,
Eugenia, who suspects him.
Exactly so.
A 72-year-old woman, with a
history of senility in the family,
which your own autopsy revealed,
alleges that a grainy newspaper
photo of Cliff Thompson
resembles the man she saw
for an instant in a dimly lit room.
And on that basis
you're going to brand
a perfectly innocent
boy a criminal?
Come on, Doctor
Quincy. What kind of a
- witch hunt are
you engaged in?
- No witch hunt.
A blood test would
put the matter to rest.
Well...
Let me cut through
a lot of chess moves.
If we submit to the test,
or if we refuse it, the
press will have a field day.
And why?
Because a grieving,
hysterical old biddy
is seeing murderers
under her bed.
Are you done, Mr. Stillwell?
Not quite. I want you to withdraw
the request for a blood sample,
and say it was all
a misunderstanding.
It may well turn out to
be a misunderstanding.
But Eugenia Winston
has lost her sister.
I owe it to her to take her
accusation seriously, despite her age.
Doctor Asten?
I'll have to go along
with Doctor Quincy.
If the boy is innocent,
the information will
be given to the public.
Very well.
Then you can expect a lawsuit
with more goose
eggs than a no-hitter.
Thanks for backing me up.
I hope we are on
the winning team.
So do I.
Morris! Pete told me you
were here. Waiting long?
Hello, Quincy. Hope I'm not
interrupting something important.
Not at all. It's not often I
get visited by a celebrity.
I called Eugenia this morning
to see how she was doing.
She told me about your
big break. Congratulations.
I've been admiring your
commendations, your degrees.
You must be very proud
of your accomplishments.
- Yeah. Please, sit down.
- Oh, thanks.
You know,
my first job in the
theater, I had one line.
I played a drunkard.
"You call this swill beer?"
That was my one line.
But I gave it all I had.
I went to taverns,
watched the drunks.
The way they walked,
the way they sat,
the way they
scratched their noses...
Morris, why did you
come to see me?
It's nothing, really...
You didn't come down
here for nothing. What is it?
Well...
You know, next birthday
I'll be seventy-two.
Gettin' up there.
I've always prided myself
on my memory for lines.
If you're an actor,
you die for that ability.
But recently, I forget...
I lose track.
I can't remember lines, names...
I'm in the middle of a sentence
and I don't know where I'm going
or where I've been.
I guess the old grey matter
doesn't work the same
as when you're young.
Short-term memory loss is not
that uncommon as you get older.
Yeah.
You wouldn't have some
pill or something, just to get me
through this one performance?
I wish I had a magic
answer for you. I don't.
- Don't hurt to ask, right?
- No.
It's the way the
cookie crumbles.
Hey, you come on
down to rehearsal now.
You hear?
Doctor, I'm scared.
I'm afraid I'm losing my mind.
Quincy, honestly,
sometimes you can
be so short-sighted.
The man was
coming to you for help.
I know he was
coming to me for help.
He wanted some instant
cure for his memory problem.
You're doing fine on the trees,
now how about
looking at the forest?
- What're you talking about?
- Senility.
That's what Morris is
afraid is happening to him.
Well, he is over
seventy years old.
- Gin.
- Gin?
Oh, boy.
Twenty-eight.
- Twenty-eight?
- Yeah, twenty-eight.
Why don't you believe
me? I'm not gonna cheat.
You'd win anyway.
The game's over.
Why does everyone assume that
aging and senility go hand in hand?
Well, don't they?
If you're asking me, "Is it
an inevitable result of aging?"
Then nothing could
be further from the truth.
But people do get senile.
What about Violet Winston?
Of course there's real senility.
But there's also
pseudo-senility.
Hundreds of thousands of people
who get diagnosed as
senile aren't senile at all.
Their mental confusion is caused by
a hundred different physical ailments
and any number of
psychological problems.
What's really tragic is
that once a patient
is misdiagnosed,
what may have started out as correctable,
could wind up as permanent damage.
I want you to give Morris
the name of a geriatrician
over at the Kellerbaugh
Center. Jerry Whitlow.
He can give him a
complete physical
and I'd be happy to do
the psychological testing.
Okay. Okay.
The subject of senility
really gets your juices going.
Yes, it does.
It happened to my
own father, Quince.
I haven't talked much
about my father, have I?
Growing up, I thought the only difference
between my father and Superman
was that Superman was
vulnerable to kryptonite.
My father was a wonderful man.
He was like a Rock of
Gibraltar to my mom and me.
I really loved him.
Then...
About the time I
entered high school, he...
I don't know, something
happened to him.
He became increasingly
absent-minded.
I mean, not about big
things. Little things, like...
Forgetting where
he put his glasses.
He would embarrass my mother by
not remembering anybody's name.
The doctor said it was senility.
He said it like he was
passing down a sentence.
And after that,
all the fire seemed to
go right out of my father.
And because he was
supposedly senile,
nobody bothered to find
out what might be causing it.
By the time we found a doctor
who correctly diagnosed
his vascular problems,
it was too late.
He died of a heart attack
the year I finished college.
So you see,
what happens to
Morris Perlmutter
matters very much to me.
Quincy, Councilman
Thompson's son is here
for that blood
sample to be taken.
The Declaration of Independence
didn't have this many witnesses.
Let's get on with
it, Doctor Quincy.
This is Cliff Thompson.
Just have a seat over here,
Cliff. This won't take a minute.
Cut yourself, huh?
I was helping my dad tear
down an old fence in the garden.
Must've been nasty.
I survived.
You got the
electrophoresis results?
I've got the electrophoresis
results on Cliff Thompson's blood.
Eddie took photos
of the banding.
This is the
glyoxalase-one-system.
Here's the blood
from the crime scene,
and the boy's blood.
One band each.
They're both group two.
Yep.
And that's where
the similarity ends.
The blood stain is type 1.
The boy's type 2-1.
And the esterase, D.
The bloodstain type 2.
Cliff Thompson's
blood type, 2-1.
It's definitely not him.
Eugenia was wrong.
I'll let Monahan know.
- Oh, Sam.
- Yeah?
And remind me to give
the boy's doctor a call.
He has an abnormally
high red blood cell count.
It could be a sign of
a medical problem.
Sure.
Are you all right, Quince?
No, no, I was just
hoping she'd be right.
Can people die of old age
if nothing's wrong with
them except they're old?
Age isn't a disease.
Age is what makes
wines and liars great.
You know what I think?
I think you're gonna live
forever, great-grandpa.
I remember, I must've
been younger than you.
One day I got to wonder why...
Why we don't just grow and grow
and grow until we're taller than trees,
bigger than houses.
I completely forget
completely about death.
Forever...
What kinda transition is that?
Uh...
I used to think
the ol' four-ten,
the steamer from Council Bluffs,
would run forever.
Um...
"Here I am. I out-lasted
the whole damn railroad."
What's that?
"Here I am. I out-lasted
the whole damn railroad.'"
Let's start your
speech again, from
"I remember, I must've
been younger..."
Well, I remember, 'cause...
I was much younger than you.
But I remember wondering
why we don't just grow,
and grow, and grow,
taller than the trees.
Bigger than the house.
"Howl, howl, howl.
"You are men of stones.
"If I have your
tongues and eyes...
"If I had your tongues and eyes,
"I would use them so..."
Thank you, doctor.
Now that is very odd.
- What's odd?
- That was Cliff
Thompson's doctor.
I told him about the high red
blood count we got on the boy.
He says we must've
made some mistake.
For the past two years, he's been
treating the boy for mild anemia.
Then he should have too few
red blood cells, not too many.
Sam, go back and run another
set of electrophoresis plates
on his blood sample.
I'd like to take a close
look at the haptoglobin.
Any particular reason?
Call it a hunch.
- Hi, Quince.
- Oh, Ed, listen.
Could you photograph the
electrophoresis plate for Sam?
- Yeah,
I'll just give it to him.
- Thanks.
- Sam.
- Sorry it took
so long, Quince.
What did we get?
The boy's blood was
haptoglobin type 2 and 1.
- 2-1?
- No.
There's a 1-band
and a 2-band, but no 2-1
band. Your hunch was right.
It sure was.
This blood isn't type 2-1, but
a mixture of type 2 and type 1.
There's only one
way it's possible.
Cliff Thompson must
have had a transfusion
after he committed the crime.
That's why there were
too many red blood cells.
That's why the
blood didn't match!
I took another look at the first
plates I ran of the boy's blood.
Some of the bands were twice
as strong as they should be.
If I delete those extra bands,
Cliff Thompson's blood matches the
blood on the broken glass perfectly.
Eugenia Winston's not crazy.
Cliff Thompson
did kill her sister.
Where the hell have you been?
Today is camera day!
Rehearsal was for 8:00.
We go on the air
tomorrow, Morris!
Tomorrow!
Not me.
Boy, was my grandfather
wrong about you.
He said you were the best.
A real professional.
He must be turning over
in his grave right now.
I stuck my neck out a
hundred miles for you...
I took a chance on an unknown,
a guy only theater
buffs had ever heard of.
Why the hell did you
become an actor, anyway?
That's a good question.
It's given me nothing
but pain and heartache.
One slap in the
face after another.
You climb out on that stage, and
every time you think, "This is it."
And the next day,
the theater's dark,
and there's a guy on a ladder
taking your name off the marquee.
I can't go through it again.
Not anymore.
You owe me, Morris.
Morris, whether
you like it or not,
you'll be out in front of
those cameras Friday night.
And make a fool of myself in front
of millions of people? No, thanks.
I don't remember the
lines, you know that.
I cannot remember the lines.
Which is the better ear?
- This one.
- Let me see the piece.
Okay.
I will have the sound department
build a radio phone for your ear.
It'll look like a hearing aid.
If you forget the dialogue,
we'll prompt you from the booth.
Now, you got any
other complaints?
Can I finish my lunch?
Yeah.
All right, camera one. Let me
see your opening position, please.
Okay, that's good. Lock
it. Camera two, please.
That's fine. Three.
Okay.
Can you hear me, Morris?
Can you hear me, Morris?
Nod if you can hear me.
Open up a little on camera two.
Remember, Morris, if
you get stuck for a line,
we'll feed it to you.
Fifteen seconds
to air. Stand by.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Playhouse America is proud to
present The Man Who Refused To Die.
And now, act one.
"To Cecil Carmichael
"for fifty years
of loyal service."
It's a beautiful
plaque, Grandpa.
- What's goin' on?
- Give him the line.
"It may as well be my epitaph."
Give him the line again.
"It may as well be my epitaph."
Are you all right, Grandpa?
You know, I don't know
why they gave me this
hearing aid. I don't
need the damn thing!
He took out the radio
phone! Kill the picture.
Quiet!
Go to camera three.
Anyway, I think it's
a lovely inscription.
- It may as well be my epitaph.
- Don't be morbid, Cecil.
You're digging my grave
and tell me not to be morbid?
You know what
this plague is for?
It's for endurance. Longevity.
It's a reward for being too
stubborn to retire voluntarily.
- For fifty years...
- He's doin' it.
He's doin' it!
He's pulling it off!
I don't want to retire.
Is it too hard to
understand that?
I feel like I've been
shut away in a trunk.
The only sound is my voice.
Buried alive in broad daylight.
No one knows I'm here.
No one looks in my direction.
No one asks for my opinion.
I must be too old to have one.
Too old for ambitions,
desires.
Maybe I'm too old
to be of any use.
"Hurry up and die,
Mr. Carmichael.
"It's the polite thing to do."
Well, I'm not
going to be polite.
I won't oblige them.
I don't have time to die.
I've got my whole
life ahead of me.
Go to commercial.
I told you he was
a corker, didn't I?
I told you!
Those last few lines,
were they in the script?
They are now.