Suspense!
Tonight, suspense brings you Miss June Havoc as star.
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And now, Schenley brings you Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense!
Presented by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A.
Roma Wines of Fresno, California.
And starring June Havoc in Subway.
A suspense play produced, edited, and directed for Schenley by William Spear.
The Subway always gets me.
I have to stand back from the edge of the platform on a train coming in because...
heights don't bother me, or closed-in places,
or any of those other things that give some people the willies.
No, no, with me it's the subway.
The shining tracks and the train roaring in out of the black.
I always make myself stand way back when I'm waiting.
That's how it started that night.
I instinctively drew back when I saw the gleaming white headlight appear in the tunnel.
Rushing toward me out of the dark.
I made myself draw back.
But what I really wanted to do was to throw myself in front of that train.
The lights on the shining rails hypnotized me like the gleaming eyes of a snake.
I stepped backwards in a panic, but that mob, that five o'clock mob poured in behind me
and shoved and pulled me with it.
I'd been pushed around all day and I had this awful cold and...
I hated everybody.
That's a terrible thing to say, I guess, but...
that's the way I felt like committing murder.
I was so tired, so worn out my feet felt glued to my shoes.
And of all the people in the world I didn't want to see.
And I'd just have to be the night I was shoved right next to Ruth Carney.
Paula Stevens!
Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven't seen you since the Academy.
Hello, Ruth.
My favorite actress. What are you doing these days?
Oh, nothing. I worked in a drug store for a while and I...
Drug store? You have a deserted bestseller to have here.
I'm afraid I have.
You with all your talent.
Ruth, I can't seem to find anything.
But you, of all of us. You can't give up.
I was so intense about it. Did you try Summer Star?
Try? I've tried to get on all right, but...
Yes, I know. I had to pay for the privilege of appearing in a summer theater.
I did the Westport season. Prentice, you know. Oh, it was wonderful fun.
And it's well worth it to me to be able to say I'd had professional experience.
Well, it's fine if you can afford it.
Oh, it's awful the way you have to have money for everything these days.
Yes, it is. Oh, don't get too close to me, Ruth. I have the most awful sore throat.
And if you don't have money, you have to have poor old on too.
Oh, and speaking of poor, have you heard about me?
No, I haven't. And General Understudy for Nightlaster.
The producer. John C. Wittner?
Yes. Yes, he was no friend of Dad's.
He used to come over to dinner when I was little.
I'd hear them talk about the theater and I thought there'd be nothing in the world like being an actor.
Such fun. All that glamour and all the sensational parties and everybody's engaged.
Such fun.
Not the acting. Not the thrill of working at something you've wanted to do so much that not doing it makes you not want to live.
No. Oh, no. It's such fun.
And parties. Wearing expensive suits like the ones she had on.
Ruth chattered on and I looked at her.
The subway stopped. More people got on. Still more and more.
It seemed as though they'd never stopped getting on.
Someone would grab the doors and hold them open and they kept trying to close them.
A fat man chewing a horrible cold cigar stub pushed me still closer to Ruth and then I jumped as something sharp stuck into my side.
I was puzzled for a moment and then I remembered the scissors Mother had asked me to get for her.
They were very sharp and they'd ruined my purse.
But it didn't make any difference. It was old. Like everything else I had.
I closed my hand over the scissors and I held them tightly so they wouldn't do any more damage and then I don't know why I found myself staring at Ruth's hat.
It was so smart. So expensive. So everything that mine wasn't.
I found myself hating Ruth's hat.
Well, as I was saying, after Dad died Mr. Ritner stopped coming over so often.
So when I got bored with the Academy I hopped right down to his office and I said,
Mr. Ritner, do you remember Henry Carney? Well, I'm his daughter, Ruth. I want to be an actress.
Of course I don't expect big parts right away. But maybe if I could get a walk on or something.
Imagine my nerve, Paula.
Saying that to a big producer like John C. Ritner.
But anyway, that's what I did. And do you know what he said to me?
No. No, what did he say to you?
He said, Ruth, I admire your spunk. And if you're half as good an actress as your father was a set designer, you'll be all right.
And he hired me. Just like that.
And your general understudy.
That's me. But no one's ever been sick. Confidentially I'm glad.
You're glad?
Oh, yes. You see, I've never gotten up in any of the parts like I'm supposed to.
If I ever had to go on, actually go on. Oh, I tell you, I get away with murder.
Murder. I couldn't look at her face.
I didn't even want to look at any of the passenger spaces.
And when I raised my eyes, I saw still more faces simpering down at me from advertisements overhead.
I hated everybody and everything.
I turned and looked outside the windows. The wet, slimy darkness was roaring past like black death.
One faulty switch, one obstruction on the tracks could bring it crashing in on all of us.
And who'd be the losers? Not Ruth with her silly chatter. Not these other passengers with their tired, blank faces.
And not me. Oh, certainly not me.
My own tired, blank face was reflected in the window pane gray and thin.
And I didn't see him out of place shimmering in that air of black death just outside.
Mr. Ritz is a wonderful man, really, Paula. You should meet him.
Matter of fact, well, I had meant to tell you this. I didn't want to build your hopes up, but I've told him about you.
About me?
Yes. You know, I always did think you had loads of talent.
So I told him one day, I told him, Mr. Ritner, if anything ever happens to me, I mean, should you decide to give me a real part in your new show,
I don't worry about who General understudy night laughter. I know just the girl, Paula Stevens.
Ruth, you told him that?
Yes. And if the time ever comes and I have to leave, well, he knows your name and everything.
But don't build up your hopes, honey. He hasn't a part for me in the new show.
Oh. And as far as anything happening to make me quit, well, there isn't a slightest chance.
End me in hatred, weld up so in me that my throat burned like fire.
And the fat man with that cigar was leaning against me and I lashed out like a drowning person.
Hey, watch it, lady. Watch it.
I took it out on him. Who I really wanted to knock out of my way was Ruth.
Ruth standing between me and the break I dreamed of.
Understudy and a hit show. But she had said, well, don't build up your hopes, honey. There isn't the slightest chance.
But wasn't there the slightest chance? I thought the slightest chance of something happening to her.
The train started up again. It jolted me so that I was thrown sickeningly against Ruth.
My fingers were testing the points of the scissors in my bag.
No one could see me. We were packed in too suddenly. Scissors were sharp and cold and long.
Yes, they seemed long enough.
I kept my eyes on the dim lights and the dirty concrete and tiles of the station we sped through as the train throbbed along uptown.
I was holding the scissors as though they were a weapon.
I was suddenly sure that at some time or another, scissors had been used as a weapon.
The scissors in my bag seemed to grow bigger with an idea. Idea and scissors. Scissors and idea.
They were increasing in size. The ache in my throat had gone up into my ears too. Throbbing.
Keeping time with the throbbing of the subway.
I looked away from the blackness outside and stared up at the white light of the ceiling.
The electric fan overhead was suspended like a spider. Suspended like a spider.
Like the spider that was spinning. No, not spinning as a spider should spin, but whirling.
Yes, that was it. Quirling. Like my brain was whirling.
Oh, come on in.
Ruth. Yes?
You play on Sundays, don't you? Oh, yeah.
No show tonight then. Ruth, why don't you come home and eat with me? There's just Mother and me. We'll be all alone.
Oh, I'd love to, Paula. Frankly, I didn't have anything to look forward to but a boring evening.
I'm glad now I couldn't find a taxi.
Well, Mother will be very glad to see you.
Oh, it's very sweet of you to ask me. I have not a home-cooked meal in a long time.
A casual invitation after a casual meeting. No one knew that Ruth was coming to my house for dinner.
Ruth didn't even know where I lived.
Get her off the subway a few stations early. Many empty lots up this way.
Then one thrust of these sharp scissors, ordinary scissors, brand new scissors, and a body in an empty lot.
And after a few days, after the funeral, a humble application to Mr. John C. Ritner for my girlfriend's job.
He'd remember I'd been recommended by Ruth herself. Oh, and I'll show them.
They'll know every line perfectly. And one night the star will not go on. No, I'll go on. That will be it.
The noise outside didn't seem like the roar of the subway anymore. It was like tremendous applause.
For me.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you June Havoc in Subway.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills, is presented by Roma Wines.
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And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, June Havoc,
starring as Paula Stevens with Lurine Tuttle as Ruth in Subway,
a play well calculated to keep you in suspense.
We passed Sun Station, 116th Street, I guess, boss.
I remember I studied Ruth with new, cold interest.
I was certainly stronger than she. She wouldn't be expecting anything.
Besides, she wouldn't know how to struggle. Things would always come easily to her.
She was so wrapped up in her own affairs, she just chattered away.
Oh, it's been the most fun getting those checks every week
and never having to lift a finger to earn them.
If they ever catch up with me, I'll...
The breaks go to girls like Ruth,
who think that being an actress is great fun.
And others, others who really, truly love the film.
They never get a chance.
There's no way for them to make their own breaks, not very often anyway.
But I had a way in my purse that night.
I could get Ruth's job.
Belong to an actress, not her.
It belonged to me. To me.
Where do we change, Paula?
Oh, we got the look here. We're coming in now.
We pushed an elbow and jostled our way out of the car.
We were the last ones out.
So we had to turn around and face the tracks with a solid mob at our back.
I hated to stand so near the edge.
But there was no way to get to the middle of the platform
without bullying my way through.
And I didn't want to have to explain to Ruth how I felt.
But I managed to get my feet placed an inch or so in back of her
as we stood wedged in the crowd.
That made me feel a little better.
Ruth, between me and the tracks,
was the only one who could have done that.
Ruth, between me and the tracks,
Ruth, between me and my destiny.
Ruth, always in the way.
Just a little push, I thought.
Maybe it would be easier.
A little push just before a train came in and...
Paula! Look at that man over there.
Doesn't he remind you of Bill?
Well, oh, yes. Yes, he does.
Oh. How is Bill, by the way?
Oh, Bill's fine.
You're still going with him?
Uh-huh, yes.
Oh, he's a wonderful guy, that Bill.
I remember one time...
I remembered, too.
I remembered how Ruth had tried to take Bill away from me once.
She'd done everything in her power.
And therefore, for a while, I thought she was going to succeed, too.
But she hadn't.
He was too nice.
He wasn't the type to care if a girl couldn't dress in the latest styles.
And if she didn't have the smartest hats...
I knew him first, you know.
Yes, I know you did.
He used to date me before he knew you.
He was just a kid, of course, and I got interested in another boy.
But believe me, when I ran into Bill about a year ago,
I couldn't help thinking that maybe I'd made a mistake in giving him up so easily.
You didn't give him up too easily.
Oh, yes, I did.
Much easier than I would now if I had to do it all over again.
You're very serious about him, aren't you?
Yes, very.
You take everything pretty seriously, don't you, Paula?
Ruth was standing on the edge.
And she wasn't laughing anymore.
She was staring at me in a very peculiar way.
She moved around in back of me.
And now I was on the edge.
In spite of myself, I looked down at the gleaming rails.
Two long silver ribbons pointing toward the black hole where the platform broke off and the walls closed in.
And the train was approaching.
I watched the tracks fascinated.
I waited for the hypnotic gleam of the headlights to make the rails sparkle and shine and beckon to me.
And then the headlights beamed at me out of the void, at me, at me.
It was a great warm spotlight.
And I swayed over the edge to meet it.
And I couldn't stop myself.
Paula! Paula!
Oh, the train was in a huff.
I was shaking.
Ruth's arms were around me holding me tight.
She pulled me back just before I might have...
What if... I should have jumped?
What's the matter, Paula?
You nearly fell right in front of that train.
Are you ill, Norm?
No. No. I'm just dizzy, I guess.
I'm all right now.
Thanks for holding me, Ruth.
I don't think I really would have fallen, though.
Come on, let's get in the car.
You look like you were weak or something.
You could do with some food. I'll bet you didn't have lunch.
No, I didn't. I forgot.
But we'll be home soon.
I'm starved myself.
I'll certainly be glad to get to your place.
Oh, I hated her worse than ever.
What right did she have to pull me back if I wanted to jump?
What business is it for hers, I felt?
I fell for the scissors in my purse.
I wrapped my handkerchief around the handle.
No fingerprints, no clues, no motive.
Nothing that would be connected with me.
A friend that hadn't seen her in ages.
And what motive could I have?
All I wanted was her job, and nobody would ever think
that I had committed murder to get a job.
People just didn't do things like that.
Not unless they were desperate and bitter with nothing to lose.
I think we can grab a couple of seats in a minute.
Those two men are getting off.
Wouldn't you think they'd have offered them to us in the first place?
Really, men in New York!
I followed her lead. We got the seats.
And I sat down there with care.
Huffed like an old woman.
I hadn't sat down all day.
Just walked from one office to another.
Ooh, the muscles in my back and legs ached.
I had to sit in an upright position.
My warm blood came rushing upward as I lifted first one foot
and then the other gingerly off the floor.
The arches ached with relief.
And my head swam.
I was so grateful just to be able to sit.
Oh, grateful.
To think that the simple act of sitting down could mean so much to me.
Paula Stevens, the most promising actress at the Academy a few years ago.
Now nobody would even give me a walk on it.
I turned and I stared at Ruth.
I thought, maybe.
I won't wait for the empty lot.
Paula! What's the matter with you?
Here we are sitting down and comfortable and you're frowning like a bear with a sore tooth.
What are you frowning about?
I looked around desperately for something I could be frowning at.
A man across the aisle was reading a newspaper and I saw a headline.
That could be making me frown. I indicated it.
Oh, you mean the headline?
Yes.
Hit and run driver kills child.
Oh, that is nasty. Makes me sick to see things like that.
I'll have a read them. Does it affect you that way?
Yes, in the lowest form of humanity.
And suddenly the train shot out of the underground under the pretzel.
Out of darkness into the twilight of a tenement street.
In a moment before, nothing could be seen through the dirty car windows but the reflection of your own drawn face.
But then the ramshackle apartment buildings flashed by outside.
Showing intimate glimpses of bare kitchens and dim bedrooms.
Gray wash and cheap living rooms.
Families going through the functions of living.
Poor families. Tragic living.
From the blackness of the tunnel to the twilight of poverty.
From death to life. First death, then life.
Tepes of the subway. Not life, then death, but death to life.
Death brings another kind of life.
Not necessarily sordid life like this, but new life.
Death makes room for somebody else to live.
One death for another life.
Bruce's death for my new life.
You know, I've been thinking about that headline too.
I mean the one about the hit and run driver.
I suppose I do get panicky.
Well, there's still the lowest form of humanity.
Still in all I think I can understand how it could happen to anybody.
You're driving along, maybe thinking of something else.
Maybe going a little too fast. You know what I mean.
You're just anxious to get someplace in a hurry and you aren't watching what's ahead.
And all of a sudden, bingo, you hit something.
Does that mean you shouldn't stop it?
Well, you don't know what you hit.
Maybe it's just an old crate or a pile of junk.
It isn't necessarily a kid or a dog even.
You just don't know.
And if you stop and look, you may find her a murderer.
Yes, but if you keep on, you can tell yourself it was just an old piece of junk and go on your way.
Now, I can understand a hit and run driver. Yes, I can.
Oh, well, why was she braiding about a hit and run driver?
She wore the subject ragged.
Well, I thought anyway it won't be much longer now.
I won't have to listen to her much longer anyway.
One more station and we get out.
She wouldn't know it wasn't my station yet.
And then we walk over by the lot, cut across it in the dark.
The scissors. One hard plunge.
And back to the subway for the rest of my ride. Alone.
Why, I wouldn't even be late for supper.
Subway emptied a meal.
Seemed to be flying through the night carrying me on dark wings toward my first chance at being something.
We were going awfully fast.
Too fast.
You know what I mean?
You're anxious to get someplace and bingo, you something.
A pile of junk. It has to be junk.
An obstruction to be cleared away for something more important passing by.
But if I should stop and look,
it's a girl like me.
But it's a girl dead in an empty lot.
This was our station. This was it.
Do we get out here, Paula?
I was looking at her roof.
An obstruction in my path.
I had stopped and I had looked at her.
What's the matter, Paula? I thought this was it.
Don't we get out here?
I had stopped to look and I had seen that she was a girl.
A human being.
Paula?
You said we were supposed to get off here.
Yes. Yes, Ruth. Yes.
A train started away without us.
Somehow it seemed to run more smoothly.
As though its wings were light instead of dark.
And I was strangely rested.
My mind was blank and I rolled the blankness around and I tasted it.
I swallowed and my mouth and my throat, they felt better.
Balls of yesterday's newspapers scurried off the platform
and flattened themselves in the corners and...
I'll be glad to get there.
Oh, yes.
I'm starved.
Ruth was a girl.
She was a human being.
Everybody on that subway was an individual human being.
And I had to drive according to the rules.
I couldn't hit and run.
How could I have ever thought that I could?
If I had to get there the hard way, well, I could take it.
This way, Paula?
Yes. Yes, this way, Ruth.
Into the light.
I climbed the ramp to the street exit with a new bounce in my feet.
I fell in my purse only to wrap my handkerchief carefully around the scissor points,
not the handles.
I couldn't afford to completely ruin my already damaged bag.
And Ruth was chattering again.
Soon we'd be home.
And as she chattered, I thought,
Ruth's older than I.
But she seems like a child.
She'll probably never grow up.
But I did.
That night, arm in arm with Ruth, we walked past an empty lot.
And I never even thought of looking back.
Suspense.
Subway, starring June Havoc, presented by Roma Wines.
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Tonight's suspense play was by Eileen Douglas Walzer and Mel Dennelly.
Next Thursday, same time, you will hear radio's inimitable Henry Morgan
as star of Suspense, produced and directed by William Spear
for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
Music
Listen again next week at the same time for Suspense.
Tonight's suspense came to you transcribed.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.