And now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Roma Wines presents...
Suspense!
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you The Man Who Thought He Was Edward G. Robinson.
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 Edward G. Robinson.
As both himself and as a certain Mr. Homer J. Hubbard, a man who thought he was Edward G. Robinson in this remarkable tale of...
Suspense!
The Man Who Thought He Was Edward G. Robinson
Mm-hmm. Yeah.
And I'm making this statement in accordance with a promise to a very dear friend.
It is a complete statement in every detail, even including those matters which are to me personally incriminating.
Because my trust in my friend is such that I haven't the slightest concern on that score, or any other.
What follows concerns primarily two persons.
Myself, Homer J. Hubbard, and my wife, Ada Sampsy Hubbard.
Even when I was courting Ada, I was aware that hers was a strong and domineering personality, to say the least.
And after we were married, well, at first I put up with Ada's constant nagging and petty persecutions as best I could.
I put up with them for five long years.
It wasn't until a memorable evening in 1930 that the first-day mouth lines of an escape and finally a plan began to take shape in my mind.
Ada and I had gone to the movies to see a picture called Little Caesar, with an actor in it whom I had never heard of before.
Oh, so you thought you'd rat on me, huh? Well, get this, nobody rats on Little Caesar, see?
The moment I saw that face on the screen, the minute I heard that voice, the world of reality around me simply ceased to exist.
I lived that picture. I was Little Caesar. I was Edward G. Robinson.
I was dimly conscious that my voice was like his, that even my face without my spectacles and with my hair parted differently might have been mistaken for his.
But it was more than that. It was his personality that fascinated me and that I assumed.
Calm, assured, tough, the kind of a man who made people do what he wanted done the way he wanted it done.
Walking out of the movie theater, I knew something had happened that was going to change my whole life.
There, there's the man. Little Caesar, they call him, and well, they may. What's his name? Edwin G. Robinson?
No, no, no, Edward G. Robinson.
Oh, Edward G. Robinson. Well, I'll wait to be hearing plenty about him from now on. He's no Caspar Milktoast.
Yes, dear.
Is that all you have to say? Yes, dear. What does it take to arouse a little enthusiasm in you anyway?
Well, here you've seen a fine performance, a picture that would get anybody in the world excited, and all you can say is, yes, dear.
Yes, dear.
Oh, I wish you were half the man that Robertson is.
Yes, but from that moment, I no longer really cared what Ada wished or thought.
I had begun my escape into a dream world of my own making, a world in which I was Edward G. Robinson.
As the weeks went by, I began to identify myself with him more and more.
I imagined myself in countless dangerous situations, and when no one was looking, I imitated him and affected his mannerisms.
I spent our day dreaming at my desk, wondering what the other people in the office would think if I suddenly exposed this hidden side of my personality.
Good heavens! Is Hubbard gone mad?
What's up with this ho?
Mad, crazy, jokey.
Okay, okay, everybody, now stay where you are. Hold your hands over your head. I don't want any monkey business, see.
Now stand back there, Ryan. I need plenty of stuff from you, and I'll let you have it.
Hubbard, this is preposterous. What do you mean by such behavior? Is this your idea of a joke?
You'll see whether it's a joke or not if you make one false move. This isn't a water pistol I'm holding here, you know.
Hubbard, go fire! Leave this office immediately!
Oh, don't make me laugh. I'm getting out all right, but I'm not fired, see. I'm even well-heeled, and that's why you come in, Mr. Ryan.
Oh, look, Hubbard, what did he say?
Please, please, Hubbard. No, no, no, be reasonable.
Oh, shut up and do what I tell you. Keep your hands up in the air and walk over to that safe. Open it up. Get all the money out of it.
Look, I'm falling.
Put it right here on the desk in front of me. I get going.
All right, all right.
I don't want to have any trouble with you, Ryan. I'm going to count three, and if you're not moving when I finish, you'll never move again.
Hubbard.
See? Hubbard.
One, two.
Hubbard.
Hubbard.
Huh?
What are you daydreaming about? You better get busy or I shall be forced to report you to Mr. Pamberton again.
Oh, oh, oh. I'm sorry, Mr. Ryan. I'm terribly sorry. I can't understand why you could have come over me.
Well, that's the way it went. At the office, walking down the street, riding home on the bus.
My life outwardly, calm, well-ordered, possibly even dull, was actually 24 hours of harrowing adventure with myself as the central figure.
I saw every Edward G. Robinson picture that came out.
It was the day after seeing Brother Orchard for the third time that Ada finally caught me.
I was shaving that morning and talking to myself.
Okay, okay, all right. You asked for it. If you don't come out, we're coming in and get you, see?
And we're coming in shooting. What's that?
Oh, yeah? And only a dirty yellow rat would say that. Okay, boys, let them have it.
Well, of all the fool performances I ever heard of, this beats all. What the world are you jabbering about in here?
Oh, it's really nothing, dear. I was just sort of trying to imitate Edward G. Robinson.
You were what?
Yes, I was.
Edward G. Robinson!
That's right.
Oh, that's rich. Oh, no, I can't believe it.
Well, I was.
You were trying to imitate Edward G. Robinson.
Yeah.
I can't stand it. But don't stop. Oh, no. Don't let me interrupt the performance, Mr. Movie Star.
Don't laugh at that.
Come on. Do your act for me.
Well, dear, I don't see anything so funny about it.
Maybe you don't, but you're the only person in the world who wouldn't.
Well, I'll leave you to your rehearsing. But why don't you imitate Donald Meek or Shirley Temple?
I think you'd find it easier.
It was right then that I decided to kill her.
For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you The Man Who Thought He Was Edward G. Robinson,
a radio play by Leslie Raditz.
Roma Wines' presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles with a friendly suggestion.
When friends make you feel perfectly at home, no matter how unexpected your visit, that's hospitality.
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For there's a Roma California Wine to please any guest on every occasion.
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For gracious dining, enjoy Roma Burgundy or Sauterne.
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guide California's choicest grapes to tempting taste perfection.
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That's why Roma Wines are always better tasting.
Proof? More Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
So insist on Roma. R-O-M-A. Roma Wines. Largest selling wines in all history.
And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage, Edward J. Robinson, appearing as both himself and as Homer J. Hubbard,
the man who thought he was Edward G. Robinson, in a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
I might have decided to have mercy on her if she'd only let me alone.
But Ada could never leave anyone alone. She really killed me at home and in front of our friends.
Sometimes she would let a few weeks go by without saying anything and I would think that perhaps she'd forgotten.
No, but Ada never forgot. She would wait until we were in a group of people and then she would come out with it.
Why, my dear, you mean I haven't told you about Homer's dream world? He thinks he's Edward G. Robinson.
Tell us, Mr. Homer G. Robinson, when you think you'll be getting your next contract from Hollywood.
Oh, you folks at that home are all wrong. He's a killer at heart. Just a cold-blooded killer.
I want to buy a gun.
Sure, bud. What kind of a gun?
Well, I don't know much about guns, but that one looks all right.
Yeah, that's a nice little gun. 2850.
Do I have to have a license?
Not unless you're going to carry it on your person. Otherwise we just register it for the police records under your name. What's the name?
Edward G. Robinson.
You heard me, Mug. Edward G. Robinson. See?
Oh, I had made my plans very carefully. My plan was that her murder would look like suicide.
It would be a night when the moon was full so that I could see ahead on the pillow and aim carefully.
I would fire the shot, quickly wipe my fingerprints from the handle of the gun, then push it into her hand.
Then, as the shocked and bereaved husband, I would call Dr. Wallace. The police wouldn't come until later, and when they did, I would be ready for them.
I was so busy laying my plans that I hadn't been reading the papers and had to be told the big news.
Homer, oh, I beg your pardon. Mr. Robinson, would you mind passing the spinach?
That is, if you're not too preoccupied and planning your next murder.
Yeah, you held up any banks like me, Homer?
Here you are, dear.
Oh, say, say, that reminds me. All kidding to one side, as the fellow says.
Did you know that he's going to be here in town next week?
Who? What?
Edward G. Robinson. He's going to address the hobbyist convention.
Is that so?
Yes.
My, my, I'd like to hear him.
I would, too. I'd like to see what a real he-man is like, not just a poor imitation.
We went, and at first it was the most terrible disappointment of my life, because he wasn't tough or hard-boiled or anything like it.
He seemed to be a mild-mannered man, a little shy, almost like me. And he talked about orchids and modern art.
They were his hobbies, he said, raising orchids and collecting paintings, modern paintings.
But as the lecture went on, I began to understand, and by the time it was over, I knew.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, I consider myself twice blessed.
Every man is blessed who has a hobby, but I am among the fortunate few who has two hobbies.
And as the fellow said, whose fiancé had a twin sister...
Oh, I see you already know it. I love them both. Thank you very much.
Ah, it's hard!
Later that evening, I made an excuse to get away from Maida and went down to the hotel where I knew Mr. Robinson was staying.
I brined the bellboy a dollar seventy-five to tell me which was his room.
I went down the hall and knocked at the door of 708.
Yeah? Western Union! Come on in!
Just put it on the... Well, say, Western Union dresses their boys up pretty snappy in this town, don't they?
Well, I must apologize for adopting the subterfuge, Mr. Robinson, but I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you.
And I was afraid you might not see me since we had never been formally introduced.
Formally introduced? Well, that's all right. What is it, autograph?
I'm afraid it's something a good deal more serious than that, Mr. Robinson.
Yeah? Well, you caught me right in the middle of shaving, as you say, but if you don't mind my finishing the job while you talk.
Oh, come right along inside. Tell me all about it.
Thank you.
Well, now, what's on your mind?
Well, Mr. Robinson, I have a problem. I followed your career since its earliest pain, and that is why I feel that you'll be able to tell me what to do.
Uh-huh. Well, what is the problem?
Well, Mr. Robinson, I suppose this is purely hypothetical, of course, but suppose you were going to kill somebody.
Kill somebody?
Yes, yes, in your own home. Somebody who was, shall we say, related to you.
Yeah, now hold on a minute, Mr. Hubbard. Homer J. Hubbard.
Mr. Hubbard, I may look like a bad guy on the screen, but when I'm not working, I'm just a plain piece of living citizen, just like anybody else.
Oh, you can fool people like that audience tonight with all that talk about orchids and modern art, and it was very good, and I quite understand why you do it.
A man in your position must have a front, of course.
Yes, but you didn't fool me. I know. Rather, I knew that I could come to you and be perfectly frank.
What about?
Why, about the murder.
About the what?
Well, look at me, Mr. Robinson. I'm a shy, inhibited, weak, utterly ineffectual person. I've none of your assurance, your hardness, your ability to cope with any situation the directly ruthless way.
How many times I wished I had, because for 20 years my life has been made horribly, unbearably miserable by one person, my wife.
Oh, so that's the way it is.
Yes, yes, for years I bore it as best I could, and then one day I thought, how would you have coped with it? And of course I knew at once you would kill her.
And now, wait a minute, wait a minute, are you kidding me? Oh no, no, Mr. Robinson, I wouldn't think of such a thing. Look here, look here, I even secured a gun to do it with.
Yeah, you better give me that. No, no, no, don't point it. Hand it to me by the barrel. I'll put it over here. Save it, you know.
Yes, I must admit, I know very little about firearms, and they're quite distasteful to me.
Yes, you and me both. I mean, small arms like that. Of course, a tommy gun, that's different. That's the only thing to use.
Yes, I suppose you're right, but I didn't know where to get a tommy gun, and I was afraid even if I did, I'd never master the art of using it.
Yes, well, now you want to kill your wife, is that it? You want me to help you?
If you would, Mr. Robinson, if you could, if you could spare the time. I can't tell you how grateful I'd be.
Well, you know, Mr. Hubbard, you look like a pretty nice little guy. Your wife must really be an old battle axe to have got you in a frame of mind like this.
All right, I'll tell you what I'll do. I will help you. Oh, Mr. Robinson, yes, but it's got to be done my way, see? It's got to be done right. You've got to plan these things.
Now, take this gap, for instance. That's no kind of a rot to kill your wife with. Why, the caliber is all wrong. The ballistics would be all wrong. The dicks would be on your tail just like that.
Now, I got to get home. That's perfect for this job, get me? I've knocked off Humphrey Bogart, Orson Welles, Jimmy Cagney. Oh, I don't know how many guys with it.
Now, the first thing when I get home, I'll send it to you, parcel post. Would you, Mr. Robinson? Oh, sure, sure. Now, when you get it, you just lay low, see? Now, don't do a thing till you hear from me.
I'll lay this thing out with some of my boys, and then I'll get in touch with you, okay? Oh, Mr. Robinson, I don't know how to thank you. Oh, forget it, pal, forget it. What's a little murder between friends?
I could scarcely maintain my composure in the two days that followed. The second day, sure enough, the gun arrived. It was a great heavy thing, the kind that is referred to, I think, as an automatic.
Yes, that's it. Remembering its history, I handled it with the utmost care and reverence. I hid it in the garage where I keep my pipe, but Ada won't let me smoke.
It was the next afternoon, Saturday, that the phone rang. I rushed into the bedroom to answer it and close the door after me, so Ada wouldn't hear in case it was.
Hello, Homer? Yes? Well, this is Eddie. Eddie? Yeah, yeah, Eddie Robinson.
Oh, yes, Mr. Eddie. Did you get the package I sent you? Yes, I got it.
Okay now, but don't fool around with it, see? Until the time comes, it's kind of tricky. No, no, no, I won't. Now listen, we're going to do this the sooner the better. The deadline's tomorrow night, midnight.
Now, here's the layout. You go to bed just the same as you always do, but have that gat handy and leave the front door open. Oh, say, I meant to ask you, is it safe to talk where you are?
Oh, yes, yes, the phone is in the bedroom and the door is closed. Oh, the bedroom, eh? Well, that's swell. Now listen, now, a little before midnight, now you get up.
She's asleep, of course. Now you take a spot just outside the bedroom door where you can keep an eye on her and on the front door too, see? Yes.
At midnight, I'll contact you. We'll do the job and make a quick getaway and you can hole up in the hideout I got until the heat's off. Get it? Tomorrow night. Midnight.
I'll do everything just as you say, Eddie.
I followed his instructions to the letter.
Well, it seemed hours before Ada went to sleep that night. It seemed days until my watch finally crept around towards midnight.
But at last, the time had come. I crept out of bed, got the gun out of my coat pocket and took my position on the landing outside the bedroom door as he had told me to.
And then suddenly the stillness was shattered by the ringing of the phone. Oh, I was in utter panic.
This is one of those unforeseen things that can ruin even the best of plans, even plans made by Edwidgee Robinson.
I rushed back into the bedroom hoping against hope that I could catch it before Ada woke up, but she already had the light on.
Homer! What in the world are you doing prowling around at this time and nice little gun in your head?
Why, I, I, I thought I heard a burglar.
Burglar?
Yes.
When I've answered this phone, I want to talk to you, Homer Jeremiah Hubbard.
Yes dear.
Hello.
Yes?
What? Oh, Homer, there is a burglar.
Someone just saw him trying to get into the house.
Are you sure?
Of course I am. Somebody just phoned that they saw him.
Well, don't stand there. You've got a gun. Go down there and stop him.
Oh, but Ada...
Go on. You want us to be killed in our beds? Go on, I say.
Oh, Ada, why do you have to spoil everything?
Go on, go on. Go.
She pushed me out. There was nothing to do but go. I crept down the stairs in the darkness.
I knew what Edward G. Robinson would have done.
He would have gone down and captured the burglar without the slightest trouble
and turned him over to the police after giving him the beating he deserved.
But somehow I didn't feel much like Edward G. Robinson just then.
It was at that moment that the terrible thought occurred to me that maybe it wasn't the burglar.
Maybe this was Edward G. Robinson. I had no time to pursue the thought further.
There he is.
Suddenly, suddenly there was a barrage of shots and a confused yelling of voices.
In my terror, I suppose I must have squeezed the trigger of my own gun
because it began jumping and flaming in my hand.
I tripped on something and the next thing I knew I was coming headlong down the stairs.
And that was the last I remembered.
When I woke up, Ada was holding my head in her arms and she was crying.
They made me stay in bed for a couple of days, but I really didn't mind.
They were reporters to see me and take my picture for the paper and all kinds of people.
Even Mr. Ryan and Mr. Pemberton came to see me.
And Ada? Well, Ada was simply a changed person.
Nothing was too good for me. My slightest wish was literally her command.
Yet the whole thing hadn't been an accident.
If I planned it that way, it couldn't have turned out better.
And then there was a final climax that afternoon when the phone rang by my bed.
Yes? Oh, oh, yes. Mr. Eddy. You did, eh?
Who is it?
Oh, it was nothing, really.
Yes, well, about that, things have changed.
Who is it?
Quiet now. Will you be quiet when I'm talking to somebody else?
Don't give me all the time. Excuse me.
Hello, dear. Hello, dear.
Mr. Eddy. Yes, they have changed quite a lot.
I don't think we'll have to go through with it.
That's right. Oh, sure, sure. She's right here. Just a minute.
Eddie wants to talk to you.
Eddie?
Yeah, sure. Eddie Robinson. Quite a pal of mine.
You mean Edward G. Robinson?
Oh, yes. The robber. You know, we had quite a little chat that night.
He was in town after I let you in. Got pretty chummy.
Here, she's going to talk to you.
Yes, yes. Hello. Oh, yes. Yes, Mr. Robinson. Oh, I know he is.
Oh, I certainly will, Mr. Robinson.
Oh, I know I'm lucky. All right, Mr. Robinson. Goodbye.
Oh, Homer. He knew all about it. He'd seen it in the papers.
Yeah, yeah. So he said.
And he said you were a hero, a real hero. Bigger than any movie hero that ever was.
He did, huh?
Oh, Homer.
Well, if Eddie Robinson says I'm a hero, I guess maybe I am.
It couldn't have turned out better, Eddie, and you know how grateful I am.
I'm a regular little Caesar around town now. My married life is all I've ever wanted it to be.
Of course, there are some things about the whole thing that confuse me a little.
It has even occurred to me, I will confess, that you might have had more of a hand in it than was generally known.
That the gun you sent me might have contained blanks, I believe you called them, don't you?
Because in spite of all the shooting, there wasn't one bullet hole anywhere in the house.
And the gun had disappeared, which confused the police somewhat, too.
And that the burglars might have been some of your boys playing a little joke.
Yes, but I don't think you would do a thing like that to a pal, Eddie, would you?
No, I don't even think you would use the statement that you asked me to send you to hold over my head as a guarantee that I wouldn't try to kill Eddie again.
Not that I ever would.
But even if you did all that, Eddie, I don't really mind.
Because as you might say yourself, what's a little joke between pals?
Suspense!
Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
And now, this is Ken Niles with a double helping of compliments for you, Mr. Robinson, for your excellent performances in both the roles you played tonight.
And here's a note from the control room.
Bill Spear, our producer-director, says you sounded remarkably authentic as Edward G. Robinson.
And very sincere as the little man who wanted to be.
Well, thank you very much, Mr. Niles, and a bow to you, Bill.
And Eddie, since you're one of Hollywood's most celebrated hosts, we know you'll enjoy this gift basket of Roma California wines.
Well, a handsome gift, Ken, and many thanks.
Here's the bottle of Roma Burgundy, Bill Spear suggested we serve tomorrow night if Mrs. Robinson can get any meat.
Well, Eddie, during these shorty days when you rarely find a porterhouse steak or a juicy roast you want, Roma Burgundy rescues many a meal.
For robust Roma Burgundy with its tempting taste harmonies for hearty meals makes ordinary pot roast as flavorful as roast beef.
Yes, the finer taste of Roma Burgundy brings out all the subtle hidden flavors in food, adds richly to mealtime pleasure.
That sounds mighty good.
Well, Roma Burgundy is mighty good because only Roma, America's greatest vintner, selects from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines.
Only Roma possesses so vast a treasure.
That's why every Roma wine is better tasting every time.
No wonder more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
Well, you've convinced me, Ken. And now tell me, who stars on Suspense next Thursday?
It's that very lovely and very talented actress, Miss Susan Hayworth.
Well, well.
In a play about a wife, a husband, a blackmailer, and a remarkably ingenious murder plot. I think you'll want to listen, Eddie.
Well, why should I want to be different from everybody else in the country, Ken? I certainly will listen.
Good night. Good night, Eddie. And we're looking forward to seeing you in your new failure production, The Red House.
Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Miss Susan Hayworth as star of Suspense.
Produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
In the coming weeks, Suspense will present such stars as Judy Garland, Jack Carson, Brian Dunleavy, Cary Grant, Roddy McDowell, and others.
Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrill.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.