Suspense.
Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers present Metro Goldwyn-Mayer's star, Mr. Van Johnson,
in Salvage.
A suspense play produced and edited by William Spear.
Happy Easter, Mr. Wilcox.
Thank you, my happy hackster.
Say, that motor sounds sweet as an Easter sonnet.
Ignition engineered auto light spark plugs, no doubt.
Yes, sir.
I just had it tuned up for the Easter parade.
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Go on, Mr. Wilcox.
We're right in the middle of the Easter parade now.
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Whether you choose the resistor type or the regular type, you'll be right because you're
always right with auto light.
And now with salvage and the performance of Van Johnson, auto light hopes once again to
keep you in suspense.
So it's gone up in smoke.
Oh, I'm not complaining.
Maybe $400,000 seems a little steep.
A week ago, I would have said 400 grand was a lot of money to light a cigarette with.
But it's funny the things you find out, the things that are really important when you're
about to die.
She came in without knocking and sat down on the edge of my rooming house bed.
And it was so quiet, you could hear the springs creak, both of them.
I went unpacking my suitcase after a quick look for the changes marriage sometimes makes
in a woman.
I found none.
She was still as approachable as a park bench.
She sat there watching me and suddenly I realized that love can be as close to hate as the two
sides of a thin dime.
Going somewhere?
No, I just pack a suitcase to keep in training.
Someday I may have to step out in a hurry.
Miss me?
Beat it, I'm busy.
Just as I thought.
You still love me, Danny, deep down.
What did you come up here for, to excavate?
No, thought you might be interested in a job.
Any job you could offer me wouldn't pay enough.
It might.
And my income tax would be too high.
Beat it.
It's a job flying a plane.
Whose plane?
If you're interested, you can get the details tonight.
All I know is that there's good money in it and it's temporary.
What isn't?
Are you interested?
Where do I get the details?
How about Mike's on 59th Street for dinner?
Eight o'clock?
I'll think it over.
You always said you liked adventure better than money.
I never said that.
I like them both.
Well, you get them both if you get this job.
If I get it, who will I be working for?
My husband.
Who else?
Mr. and Mrs. Wendell H. Davis arrived at Mike's a little after nine.
He was the kind of a good-natured, back-slapping, handshaking guy that dogs rub up against
and children eat spinach from.
Sorry we kept you waiting, Connor.
Just couldn't help it.
You know, unexpected business.
Forget it.
You know what I think, Connor?
There are only two kinds of people in this world.
Those who are always waiting for something and those who keep them waiting.
How about something to eat?
It can wait.
What's the deal?
The deal?
Oh, of course, of course.
Gloria thinks you can handle a certain job, Connor.
If it's a flying job, I can handle it.
That's what I like to hear.
Confidence.
Nothing like confidence in yourself.
Where did you learn to fly?
The United States Navy.
Don't say.
That's wonderful.
I was in myself back in the First World War.
Got myself assigned to a trim and seaworthy a desk as you could find in Washington.
How long we in?
Four years.
Four years?
Don't say.
Can you navigate?
Sure.
The United States Navy likes to know where it's going.
All right.
The job's yours.
If you don't mind, Mr. Davis, I'd like to know what kind of a job it is.
You'll be working for the Intercontinent Salvage Corporation, an enterprise incorporated under
the laws of the state of New York.
Are you satisfied?
What are you going to salvage?
Gold.
That's nice work.
Is there money in it?
Is there money in it?
Say, this fellow's killing me, Gloria.
I wonder if that would quiet you a little.
We're in business, Connor, to salvage gold from the ocean bottom.
Tell me, do you know what a galleon is?
Sure.
Four quarts.
Hold it.
Now, this is a serious business matter, Connor.
If you aren't interested, just say so.
A galleon is an old Spanish sailing vessel.
What of it?
It's kind of a boat the Spaniards used to use to send gold back to Spain.
Now, here.
See this map here?
The circle takes in Cuba and the Bahamas.
Right in here, they went down by the dozens, gold and all.
Sometimes pirates sunk them, sometimes they hit a hurricane.
But the gold is still there.
Billions.
Billions.
Some of the places marked here actually show latitude and longitude.
If the stuff is located so exactly, why hasn't it been salvaged till now?
Oh, plenty of it's been salvaged already.
You don't hear about it because the government has a habit of taking such big cuts that most
salvage work is kept secret.
And some of it's a little harder to get at.
Why?
Just little things like hurricanes, sharks, poisoned corals, sometimes island savages.
But Intercontinent is going down after that gold on a big scale, legitimately.
I see.
You're making it a big business.
Exactly.
We're a stock corporation with almost a half a million dollars invested capital.
And where does my job come in exactly?
Now, Connor, do we have to discuss all the details right now?
Gloria's hungry.
You're so right.
I'm hungry too.
Let's relax and eat and forget business for a while, huh?
No, let's not.
All right.
Have it your way, Connor.
Briefly, there are three parts to it.
The first is to do as you're told.
The second is to keep your mouth shut.
And the third is to fly an airplane.
That's simple enough, huh?
How much does the third part pay?
It's not piecework, Connor.
The whole job pays 10,000.
So far, so good.
Your job is to scout the area ahead of the salvage vessel.
The only way to cover that much water is with an airplane.
Does that satisfy you?
There was something about Wendell H. Davis and Intercontinent Salvage Corporation I didn't
like.
And when I saw the tub charted by Intercontinent, I liked it even less.
She was built back in the 90s.
Her original boilers had long since been replaced with a pair of pocket-size oil burners.
There was nothing left of her bright work, and the varnish had peeled off topside.
She didn't look safe enough to sail in a fish pond.
The last thing to go aboard her was the plane, a war surplus job Davis bought from somebody
who had picked it up cheap from war assets.
It was fitted with pontoons and extra gas tanks, and I took her up to the Cape and back
in a trial spin with Wendell H. Davis accompanying me.
Think she's good enough to fly nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico?
The Gulf of Mexico?
You ought to brush up on your geography.
Just answer my question, Connor.
Don't worry about my geography.
My geography's fine.
Then your sense of direction's not so good.
We're not going that way.
Answer my question.
If you want to fly to the Gulf of Mexico, I guess she'll oblige.
We were going out on the 11 o'clock tide that night.
It was after 10.
Behind me on the after deck, I heard a soft step in the darkness.
It was Gloria.
Are you going to kiss me goodbye?
It seems we're always saying goodbye.
I'll miss you, darling.
Save it for your husband.
I was just thinking of saying goodbye to him myself.
What do you mean?
This job I don't like.
I don't think this tub can even get out to sea.
What are you worrying about?
There's a plane on board.
I still don't like it.
What don't you like about it, Danny?
Mostly, Wendell H. Davis.
I don't think he's the good natured back slapping guy he seems.
It's a long trip.
Something might happen to him.
An accident.
An accident?
You heard what he said.
Hurricanes, sharks, poison coral.
If you didn't want somebody to come back, it'd be easy.
You'd be sitting pretty if he didn't come back, wouldn't you?
We would, Danny.
Together.
Is that why you got me this job?
Because I love you and I know you still love me.
We wouldn't ever have to say goodbye again.
This would be the last time.
I'll be waiting for you, darling.
She walked away.
There was a smile on her face like a cat that swallowed a bowl of cream.
I stood there.
Everything was a matter with this setup.
My smiling employer, whom I didn't trust, a tub of a ship to sail in, and a plane that
wouldn't have passed inspection in World War I.
And Gloria, whose real name was Trouble.
What sense was there to taking a job like that?
No sense.
Maybe that's why I took it.
Auto Light is bringing you Van Johnson in Salvage, tonight's production in radio's
outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Get an Easter eggs, Mr. Wilcox?
Eggs?
Yes, sir.
Half a dozen assorted colors.
And what do you think was in them?
You're right.
You're right.
A set of wide-gap Auto Light resistor spark plugs.
The newest addition to the complete line of regular transport aviation, marine, resistor,
and model spark plugs.
Ignition engineered by Auto Light.
And man, you should have heard those proud beauties all firing in perfect order after
I had them installed in my car.
The Easter Bunny was sure good to you, Mr. Wilcox.
Sure was, because those wide-gap Auto Light resistor spark plugs give every car owner
greater gas savings, smoother performance, faster starts in cold weather, even double
life as compared to spark plugs without the built-in resistor.
And it's all because a 10,000 ohm exclusive Auto Light resistor is built right into every
Auto Light resistor spark plug.
This makes practical a wider initial gap setting, the advantages of which have long been recognized
by automotive engineers.
So friends, see your friendly Auto Light spark plug dealer tomorrow.
Have him replace worn out spark plugs with ignition engineered Auto Light spark plugs.
Whether you choose the resistor type or the regular type, you'll be right, because you're
always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage, our star, Van Johnson, in Salvage.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
When the tub went out on the 11 o'clock tide that night, I was on it.
I kept thinking about Gloria and why she got me that job.
I kept wondering if the tub could stay afloat.
I kept wondering why Davis asked about flying the Gulf of Mexico.
And then I found something else to wonder about.
It took me a couple of days to realize that there was something funny about the crew.
There were six Chinese who slept below deck aft, and none of them could speak English.
The cook was a Korean and this conversation consisted of a wide grin.
The three deckhands were fresh from Portugal.
The mate was a sullen German and the captain was almost completely deaf.
Now, boozer besides.
It took me a couple of days, but suddenly I realized what it was.
There wasn't a man on that crew I could talk to.
See anything of Mr. Davis?
The big boss.
Nice, nice news.
Look, you don't have to talk my ear off.
Just answer yes or no.
Listen, you're the mate on this tub and we're off our course.
I tried to tell the captain, but he's so tanked up, we'll be in Galapagos before his head clears.
Hey!
Oh, nuts.
I beat it into the radio cabin.
The operator ought to be told we're off our course.
I opened the door and saw the operator at his table, earphones clamped on.
He looked around at me and I stopped dead.
The operator in the radio cabin was a skinny redheaded kid with a frightened look on his
baby face.
The only one on the crew who could speak English was a badly frightened kid.
Hello.
My name's Connor.
I'm the pilot for that crate out there.
Mine's Scott.
Come on in.
If I can get in, this cubby hole must have been built to hold the captain's toothbrush.
What I wanted was to check the time from Arlington.
Sure, they'll be on in a few minutes.
You're not exactly an old sea dog, are you?
This is my first job.
You look nervous.
Well, I want to make good, but I...
Anything wrong?
Do you know exactly where we are?
Somewhere along the coast of Florida.
Why?
What's the latitude and longitude of where we are now?
Well, let's see now.
The latitude is about 30 and the longitude is around 78.
That's right.
So why does Mr. Davis tell me to send a message that our latitude is 25 and longitude is 72?
What?
We are within 500 miles of there.
Why does he want anyone to think we are?
I wonder.
Did you see the diving equipment?
Yeah.
I once saw some divers work.
This stuff is no good.
That's what I thought myself.
I wouldn't wear it in a bathtub.
I hate to think of anyone going down in it.
Maybe nobody has to go down in it.
What?
Maybe nobody was ever supposed to go down in it.
What do you mean?
Maybe this whole trip is a fake.
A fake?
Maybe what Wendell H. Davis is doing is skipping with the money invested in Intercontinent Salvation
Corporation.
That would explain everything.
A broken down tub that's going nowhere.
A crew that asks no questions.
A plane that's meant to fly Davis out of the country while this tub is reported 500 miles
from here.
Oh, I don't know what to do.
I'm not supposed to send false information when I know it's false.
You might get yourself in a lot of trouble, Scotty, if you don't.
You're right.
But I ought to do my duty.
Report our position accurately.
And that's what I'm going to do.
The dirty little rat.
Get the plane started, Connor.
He was just a scared kid.
Get the plane started.
Just a kid worrying about his first job.
You heard me, Connor.
Get the plane started.
I looked down.
There was blood oozing under my shoe.
I looked at the table at the dangling earphones.
Then I went out with Davis following me.
The gun trembling a little in his pudgy hand.
He got a black release like bank messengers carry out of his cabin.
On deck the crew got steam on one of the winches.
They freed the boom and Davis climbed into the plane beside me.
I turned on the ignition.
We bobbed on the water and taxied for a minute to find the wind and warm the motor.
We gathered speed like a roller coaster, the waves slapping at the pontoons.
I climbed to about 3,000 feet and leveled off.
The gun was still pointing at me.
You can throw that gun away, Davis.
Keep flying.
Where to?
About 10 miles south of Tampa.
My wife's waiting to be picked up.
We rented a beach cottage there a couple of weeks ago.
Are you sure she's waiting?
That's the trouble with you, Connor.
You don't trust women because you don't understand them.
A woman has no sense of justice.
It's like children in madmen.
You can't hold them responsible for anything.
Maybe she's waiting, maybe not.
And after that?
Across the Gulf.
When do you pay me?
When we land in Mexico, safe.
Look, Davis, as long as we're both in this plane, anything that happens to me happens
to you too.
So we're not going to land anywhere until you throw that gun away.
When we land in Mexico, you'll get your money.
What's the matter?
Don't you trust me?
How much is in that bag?
All the assets of Intercontinent and Salvage Corporation?
400 grand.
A lot of fish to toss to the sharks.
Sharks?
Down there.
Big enough to swallow a guy like you in one gulp.
Which goes into the drink, the gun or you?
The gun stays where it is.
Okay.
We climbed to 6,000 feet.
I looked at him, his hand was steady, the gun still pointing at me.
I cut the throttle and we drifted a moment, then lurched and nose straight down.
The wind screamed louder and louder past the wings.
I looked at Davis again, he was pale but his hand didn't move an inch.
At 1,000 feet it twitched.
At 500 I stopped breathing.
The plane was twisting out of control, the water coming at us like a tidal wave.
At 300 feet I threw open the throttle.
The plane clawed for altitude but the wind was hitting it like a pneumatic drill trying
to crack it wide open.
It was a miracle that I leveled off.
All right Davis, you win.
I could have told you.
I always do.
You don't know how close you came to being wrong.
I almost lost control.
We almost hit the water like a tub of cement.
Yeah.
For a minute there you looked kind of worried.
It's easy to make a mistake about someone like Wendell H. Davis.
He looked like a good natured back slapping guy until you got a close look at those gray
murderers eyes.
On a dark beach with the dim lights of a car I brought the plane down on the water and
taxied as close as possible.
I climbed out with Davis behind me.
We waded in.
He was grinning as Gloria came toward us.
Ah, got a rented car?
Sure.
Got in Tampa like you said.
Well start it.
I don't like flying with Connor.
He almost spilled me in the drink.
He might try it again.
Is this where I collect like that frightened kid in the radio cabin?
What happened?
The lesser woman knows the smarter she is.
Start the car.
You won't get away.
When that tub is found you'll be wanted for murder.
Me?
Why?
I couldn't kill him.
I don't even exist and neither do you.
What do you mean?
The captain will swear this plane was upscouting ahead of the salvage vessel when it crashed
into the sea and both of us were lost.
You paid him?
Enough so he'll stick to his story.
We were over a bad stretch.
No chance of finding us.
Little things like hurricanes, sharks, poison, coral, even savages.
So you had your disappearance from that tub all planned.
You don't look happy, Connor.
That's too bad.
I like to see a man die happy.
I stood there paralyzed.
She tried to hold onto his arm after knocking it aside.
Blood was crawling down her face.
He wrenched his arm free and she sank down on the beach.
I don't know how I got to him but I heard the crushing sound as I hit him.
I could feel his nose spread under my fist like unbaked dough.
The gun dropped from his linked fingers but I didn't stop to look.
I threw myself at him.
His heels kicked up in my face and I slid back.
The look on his pudgy face was more astonishment than pain.
He sank to one knee and tried to get up and fell.
He lifted his head like a lizard in the sand but there were no more words before it dropped
again.
She was still firing the empty gun at him.
I took the gun gently from her hand.
I lifted her head, smoothed back her hair.
Is he dead?
Dead enough.
Just put your head back.
Everything's blurred.
You'll be all right.
That shot just sampled your skin.
Just a superficial wound, that's all.
The guy killed him.
I thought when you got me that job you'd know that what payoff would be.
I was all wrong about you.
You risked your life for me.
My head's spinning.
You're gonna be all right.
Everything's gonna be all right now.
Once we get across the gulf, just as he said, he doesn't exist.
The plane fell into the sea while scouting ahead of the salvage vessel.
The captain will swear to it.
Your late husband bought us our freedom.
He paid for it himself.
Gloria.
Gloria!
She blacked out.
I thought of getting her a doctor right away, but that would be too risky.
It was just a superficial wound, mostly shock.
I tore off part of my shirt and wet it at the water's edge.
I washed the blood from her hair and face and bathed the wound.
I lifted her gently in my arms and carried her out to the plane and made her comfortable.
Then I went back for Davis.
I searched him, but he wasn't carrying anything.
No identification.
Just a claim ticket on an express office in Mexico City.
I took it and I got his body into the plane and climbed in after him with the black bag.
I turned on the ignition and the plane moved out into the gulf.
I got rid of everything in my own pockets.
Everything that could identify me, just to be safe.
All I kept was an old cigarette case with no initials.
A pocket compass and the express ticket.
Then I began prying open the lock in the black bag.
I felt good.
A strange feeling of being completely detached from the world down there, free of it.
To them, I didn't exist anymore.
Four hundred grand could make a world of its own.
A world for just Gloria and me.
A bright moon rode between broken patches of cloud as I got the lock open.
I stared in.
I heard myself breathing hard as if somebody else were grinning over my shoulder.
The bag was filled with strips of newspaper.
I don't know how long I stared straight ahead like a blind man.
I heard Gloria murmuring coming out of it.
I grabbed her arm.
The money.
It's not in that bag.
That black bag's a fake.
He told me just before he sailed what he really did with it.
Told you what?
Didn't tell me till just before he sailed.
Didn't trust anyone.
Not even me.
Afraid I might double cross him.
Told you what.
Where is it?
Must be carrying an express ticket.
An express ticket?
That's why I was waiting for him at the beach cottage.
What's the express ticket for?
Where are we, Danny?
Are you taking me to a doctor?
We'll get to a doctor.
Don't worry.
What's the express ticket for?
A trunk.
The Mexico City express office.
More money's in it.
The express ticket.
Then everything's okay.
That ticket's worth 400 grand and we've got it.
We've got it.
Well, where are we, Danny?
Don't worry about a thing, darling.
Once we get across the gulf, everything will be all right.
The gulf?
Now, don't worry.
I'll get you to a doctor as soon as we get across.
You blacked out, but it was only a shock, just a superficial wound.
Turn back.
I got you into the...
Turn back, Danny.
What's wrong?
We'll be across the gulf...
Did you hear me?
Turn back.
Now, look, darling.
Get a hold of yourself.
What's wrong with you?
I'm doing this because I love you.
Do you want to risk a murder charge?
You can't prove you killed him to save me.
You.
You think I cared what happened to you.
I did it because I hated him.
Because he killed...
Who?
You don't mean Scotty.
Turn back, please, for the love of...
What's that poor kid got to do with you?
Poor kid.
That baby face could fool anyone.
It always did.
We once had a dancing act together.
I got him a job on that tub.
Job?
We had it all planned.
How simple we thought.
All we had to do was switch black bags, and once you took my husband across the gulf...
Something's wrong.
That first night out, Scotty drained the extra gas tanks.
He left enough gas to take this plane about halfway out over the gulf heat.
The waves gnawed at the wrecked plane like rat's teeth.
By the third night, Gloria was completely out of her head.
It was horrible.
You were in pretty bad shape yourself when this freighter picked you up.
By the seventh day, I gave up all hope.
Until then, I figured I had a chance, maybe one chance in a thousand.
Chance worth 400 grand.
You made it.
If you kept quiet about that express ticket...
There is no express ticket.
I found a soaked cigarette in my case.
It didn't take long to dry, so I had a cigarette.
But no match, till I remember the compass in my pocket.
Compass?
With a little magnifying glass on it.
You know how the sun's rays through a glass like that can set fire to the paper?
And I had a piece of paper.
Just one piece.
That express ticket.
I didn't touch it.
Day after day, I clunkered that one chance in a thousand for seven days.
Seven?
Well, we picked you up on the seventh day.
You mean just before we...
Like I said, I'm not complaining.
That cigarette sure felt good.
Felt like a million dollars.
Suspense, presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Van Johnson.
What a parade.
I'm sorry it's over.
Over?
Why, my merry man of motors, the Auto Light Parade is never over.
It's a parade of over 400 products for cars, trucks, planes and boats in 28 plants, coast
to coast.
These include complete electrical systems used as original equipment on many makes of
America's finest cars.
Spark plugs, batteries, generators, coils, distributors, starting motors, bullseye sealed
beam headlights.
All engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly because they're a
perfect team.
So friends, don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good.
Ask for and insist on Auto Light original factory parts at your neighborhood service
station, car dealer, garage or repair shop.
Remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next Thursday for Suspense, our star will be Dan Daly.
The play is called Six Feet Under and it is, as we say, a tale well calculated to keep
you in suspense.
This suspense play was produced and edited by William Spear and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Music for Suspense is composed by Lucian Morrowek and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
Salvage is an original play written for radio by Sidney Renthal.
Van Johnson is appearing on Suspense by arrangement with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, producers of the
Irving Berlin Technical and Musical Annie Get Your Gun, starring Betty Hutton, Howard
Keele and Lewis Kalhan.
In the coming weeks, you will hear such stars as Arthur Godfrey and Agnes Moorhead.
Don't forget, next Thursday, same time, Auto Light will present Suspense, starring Dan Daly.
You can buy Auto Light resistor or regular spark plugs, Auto Light staple batteries,
Auto Light electrical parts at your neighborhood Auto Light dealers.
Switch to Auto Light.
Good night.
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