Now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world, Roma Wines
presents...
Suspense!
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. J. Carroll Nash as star of Commuter's Ticket, a suspense
play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear.
Suspense!
Radio's outstanding theater of thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines.
That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness
to the way you live, to your happiness in entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of
everyday meals.
Yes, right now, a glass full would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you J. Carroll
Nash in a remarkable tale of...
Suspense!
Ever ride a commuting train?
If you have, you probably don't think anything of it, not if you're one of the regulars.
Commuters are just people coming from one place and on their way to going someplace
else.
What happens in between doesn't mean a thing.
They don't remember it afterwards.
They don't see the scenery.
They look right at faces beside them and don't see them.
I know.
I used to ride the 815 into the city to work every morning and the 545 home in the evenings.
Yeah, I used to ride the trains.
Oh, could I bother you for a match?
What?
Oh, man.
Yeah, I left mine at the office.
Where I work, Consolidated Press, the wire service, you know.
Don't say.
Oh, I'm not one of the reporters.
Here's a book of matches, Keaton.
Thanks.
Now, I repair teletype machines.
You know, the machines that print the news when it comes in and relay it out to the newspapers
all over the country.
Don't say.
Funny trades people get into.
Now, me, I was a speed typer.
The fellow on my ship was a telephone man.
Both wind up in the same place, repairing teletype printers.
It's a whole profession, you know.
Most people don't know it exists.
But there you are.
They break down just like any other machine.
Oh, what's your line?
Look, I'm sorry, these rides are the only time I have to go over my report.
Oh, sure, sure.
I didn't mean to put in.
I just thought maybe I'd seen you in the Laurel Creek station.
No, not my station.
I see a lot of people waiting for the train there, but I never get to know them.
Oh, my name's Bert Gavin.
It's all right.
Keep the matches.
I got another book.
You ride right along beside the same people, or the same kind of people anyway, for weeks,
months, years.
Nobody knows you there.
The same conductors see you every day, and still they ask you, what's your station?
I got so I took it for granted like any other commuter.
Then I got to thinking about it again, especially on the downed peninsula runs, going home to
that house, that house that didn't have any love in it anymore.
I said I lived in Laurel Creek.
Well, that was my station.
Only where I lived was on the wrong side of the tracks.
The house was so close to the tracks we couldn't have a backyard for the rails.
Every time a train would go by, it'd shake the whole house.
The walls would shake, the windows would rattle, the ground would shake under the foundations.
It was like living on the edge of a volcano.
As I walked into the house that night, the Bayside Limited was just coming through.
Alva?
Hey, Alva.
Who is it?
That's you, Bert?
What are you doing home?
Did you lose your job?
Well, it gets past.
I can't hear you.
What?
What did you say?
Oh, I said shut up.
What's the big idea coming home like this?
Why don't you let me know?
I finished early.
We're going to get overtime.
You're losing overtime.
Well, maybe I want to have dinner with my loving wife for a change.
Well, you won't.
There's nothing in the house.
Couldn't we rustle up some scrambled eggs or something?
I told you there's nothing in the house.
What were you going to eat?
I was going out, if you want to know.
Who with?
Well, it's none of your business.
It's Alf Gorman, isn't it?
You've been seeing him again, haven't you?
Well, what if I have?
I don't want you to see him.
You're my wife.
Pity you didn't think of that when you moved me out here to the Sixth.
Well, your boyfriends don't seem to have any trouble locating you.
You rented a house on the railroad tracks deliberately just to punish me.
Well, you don't have to stay in it.
No, I don't, but you do.
And every time that train goes by in the night, I like it.
You don't sleep so good, do you, Bert?
The trains get on your nerves, too, don't they?
I guess that's something you didn't figure on.
Hey, maybe I figure on more than you think.
What do you say that for?
And what are you simpering about?
What's the matter, Alva?
You sound like you're scared of me.
Of you?
Huh.
Don't make me laugh.
And don't make a scene when Alf comes by to pick me up.
You know what happened the last time.
But it won't happen again.
The laugh's on me, isn't it?
I move you to the country to keep you away from the juke joint so he drives out here to
see you.
The country.
You call this the country.
A shack on the railroad tracks.
You bring me here.
You must be crazy to think anybody could turn over a new leaf in a place like this.
Maybe I am crazy, but not the way you think.
There you go again, getting that silly look on your face.
What time did you say Alf was coming to pick you up?
Seven o'clock.
That's fine.
That's perfect.
I'll just have time to catch the 715 back in the town and earn that overtime.
Well, what are you waiting for?
It's about time for the 645 to pass by, isn't it?
Yeah.
Do stay and enjoy it, Bert dear.
Honey, you don't know how much I'm going to enjoy this.
Ah, there it is.
Here it comes.
Ah, it's a minute early this evening.
Bert, what's the matter with you?
What do you want with that poker?
What do you think I came home early tonight for?
I'll give you three guesses.
Bert.
Nobody saw me leave the office.
The watchman was asleep.
He'll still be asleep when I get back.
As far as the police will know, I never left there.
I was there all night fixing the printers, earning my overtime.
Bert, don't do it.
You'll never get away with it.
Everybody saw you coming out on the train.
It'll be the same going back.
You can't help being seen.
So many people on those trains.
What you don't know, honey.
What you don't know.
I'll scream.
I'll scream so loud the neighbors will hear.
Nobody's going to hear anything except this train.
Here, there's a big baby now.
A nice long train.
Long and loud.
Go ahead, scream your head off.
Bert, put that down.
You don't know what you're doing, Bert.
Get away from me.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
Bert, please, please let me go.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you J. Carol Nash in Commuter's Ticket, a radio
play by Roy Grandy and Robert Tallman.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
In the acts of Suspense, this is Ken Niles with a friendly suggestion.
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And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood Soundstage, J. Carol Nash as Burt Gavin in
Commuter's Ticket.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
The train was gone and so was that awful feeling inside.
I just stood there looking down where I'd knocked her.
In the quiet, there wasn't any reason for what I'd done.
I was sorry, kind of.
I didn't want her dead now, but I had to follow it through.
Had to work fast.
Alf was coming forward at seven.
He'd find her body.
Maybe they'd try to hang it on him.
That was a laugh.
It was just a small noise when I picked up the poker, but even that scared me.
I had to wipe it off, though.
Those small sounds a man makes when he's alone around a house.
I heard every step I took.
I'd have given anything for another train to break up the silence, but there wouldn't
be another train to the one I had to get on.
I had to work fast if I was going to catch it.
I opened a broom closet and got out a stepladder.
I set the ladder up and climbed to the top of it, feeling dizzy.
What I wanted was in a pewter mug on top of the sideboard.
I got up in a hurry and climbed down.
It was over 2,000 bucks in cash.
I'd been saving it for a long time.
I needed it now.
I might not be coming back to this house.
I had to put a ladder away and straight out of there before Alf put in his appearance.
The buzzer stopped me cold.
Was him all right?
I could see a shadow on the frosted glass of the front door.
In a minute, he tried the door.
I didn't know whether it was locked or not.
I didn't wait to see.
I head out the back way.
The door that opened only a couple of feet from the railroad tracks.
For three seconds flat, I was scrambling up over that great steak fence out on the tracks
lurching over the railroad ties.
Where was the plan that needed plans so nobody'd see me?
I had a way mapped out, but that way was out the front door.
Now everybody in all the houses along the tracks could see me.
Maybe not though.
People there don't look out through those dirty windows any oftener than they have to.
At the station, I held back on a bench in the darkest corner and waited.
I got on with the others.
Lost in the crowd.
I walked through just like all the commuters.
Took the first good empty seat I found.
A whole seat to myself.
Mind if I sit here?
What?
Oh, no, no.
I just thought maybe your wife.
Wife?
Well, that may be that you were holding this seat for somebody.
Oh, no, no.
No, it's okay.
Oh, thanks.
Well, say this suits me.
You know, I don't like it when there isn't somebody to talk to.
Yes, sir.
My name's Elmer Russell.
What's yours?
You must not ride on the trains very much.
You guessed it.
From what I hear, people don't meet up with each other very much.
Not on these commuting trains.
I only use them since I'm working nights.
I used to drive them.
What was your name now?
Hey, hey, what'd you do to your hand?
My hand?
What?
Well, you must have cut yourself.
Look, it's all covered.
Oh, yeah, yeah.
Well, excuse me.
Just saw a friend of mine going in the car ahead.
I wanted to see him on a matter of...
I rushed on out of the car.
My heart pounding.
I went in and washed my hands.
Out of all the passions on that train, I had to get beside somebody who didn't have
the commuters habit.
And blood on my hands.
Well, what was the difference?
Nobody ever questioned him about me.
The train lurches.
I started down the island.
The next smoker.
Hey, hey, watch it.
What's the big idea?
I'm sorry.
The train give a lurch.
Sorry.
Well, you don't have to cry about it.
Just watch it.
Yeah.
Hey, hey, wait.
What?
Help me pick up these dominoes.
Oh, go on.
Chase yourself.
Hey, come back here.
What's the big idea?
Gee, I should have helped him pick them up.
He'd remember.
He'd remember that my being rude.
Maybe not, though.
Commuters are used to rudeness.
I hurry down to the next car.
They shut the door behind me and leaned back against it, feeling weak and dizzy.
People near me looked up and stared at me.
I must have looked pretty sick judging from the way I felt.
I grabbed the first vacant seat and fell into it.
Wow, look what just dropped down from the sky.
Hey, can't keep us from having that pork, can they?
Well, what's your limit, friend?
10 percent a point?
Now, don't tell us you don't play bridge.
I'm not playing bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
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I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
I'm playing the bridge.
Produced by Williams Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
Suspense is broadcast from coast to coast and to our men and women overseas by shortwave and through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.