Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. John Lund.
In tonight's presentation of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents a story from your morning newspaper, the dramatic expose
of narcotics peddling among teenagers, as reported in Melody in Dreams, our star Mr.
John Lund.
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Light.
And now, Auto Light presents transcribed Melody in Dreams, starring Mr. John Lund, a dramatic
report based on fact, hoping once again to keep you in suspense.
Hi, Lieutenant.
Where's Shank?
He's in the other office on the telephone.
Right, Mr. Graf?
Yes, sir.
I have the address.
We'll try to get out there as soon as we can.
Keep the girl there.
Yes, sir.
Oh, hi, Chris.
How was it, Luke?
Might be the lead.
Huh.
Bad chance.
There was a guy named Graf, Walter Graf.
He lives out on South Tyburn.
He found a cache of marijuana cigarettes hidden in an old coffee can in his daughter's bedroom.
How old is the girl?
All 16.
She nearly went hysterical when the old man confronted her with a can of the cigarette.
Yeah, they all do.
This kid's thrown convulsion.
Huh.
The old man must be a funny character.
Can you imagine?
Made a citizen's arrest of his own daughter.
For almost six months, the Narcotics Division had been trying to find the leak.
The hole through which an estimated $70,000 worth of drugs was being passed to high school
kids monthly in the forms of marijuana, opium, and heroin.
Regular stakeouts, raids, and arrests had been made.
The number of teenage addicts arrested was a staggering, frightening total.
Arrests made yielded the addicts, but they didn't yield the source of supply.
In the meantime, public sentiment and high official pressure abetted by the newspaper
headlines was growing while police department investigation was groping.
Each and every possible lead obtained had to be followed up.
In the case of Walter Graff, who had made a citizen's arrest of his 16-year-old daughter
after discovering marijuana cigarettes hidden in a coffee can in her bedroom, another lead
was about to be followed up.
This is the address, Chris.
Yeah.
Nice old house.
Ring the bell.
Sure.
Well, they don't build them like this anymore.
Maybe they don't take the time.
Agnes goes for this kind of architect.
Yes?
Police.
Mr. Graff?
Oh, yes, yes.
Come in.
I'm Mr. Graff.
Thanks.
Here.
Let's go into the living room.
Please be seated.
You'll have to excuse the appearance of the house, gentlemen.
Ever since Mrs. Graff passed away, I haven't taken much interest in such things as cleanliness.
I know it's wrong.
We understand.
I presume you're here in response to my telephone call.
Yes, sir.
I'm Lieutenant Royals.
This is Detective Sergeant Schenck, narcotics detail.
Yes, yes.
I'm quite upset, as you can see.
The shock...
You're only one parent among many, Mr. Graff.
Oh, I know, I know.
I read the newspapers, too.
They're full of it.
Every day you read about the horrible...
When did you discover the coffee can with the cigarettes, Mr. Graff?
This morning.
You see, I didn't go to work today.
I wasn't feeling very good, so I stayed home.
It's the first time I've ever been absent.
Why did you wait until this evening to report the discovery?
Why did I wait until this evening?
Yeah.
Well, because I couldn't believe it.
I simply couldn't believe it.
Don't you understand?
Joan is my child.
How is a father supposed to believe such a terrible thing of his child?
We understand.
I had to give Joan a chance to deny it, Lieutenant.
I had to give her a chance to yell to her papa that she knew nothing about the coffee
can and its sinful contents.
Did she deny knowing about the can?
Deny it?
She didn't even try to defend herself.
She admitted the guilt.
But what hurt most of all was her... her arrogance.
What are you going to do about it, she said to me?
I did the only thing I thought was right to do.
I called the police.
I'm sorry, Mr. Graff.
Oh, don't be sorry, Lieutenant Riles.
It's a very funny story.
And the neighbors will thoroughly enjoy it.
Ring around the rosy old man Graff arrested his daughter.
She's a dope fiend, pocketful of posies.
What made you suspect the cigarettes contained marijuana, Mr. Graff?
Suspect?
How do I know?
Well, lots of things.
Jones moods, strange moods.
Moods which I can't describe to you because I don't know how.
Her friends.
Friends?
One in particular.
Mickey Malone.
No good, no good, Lieutenant.
I see.
Now, where is the can with the cigarettes, Mr. Graff?
One moment.
Here, Lieutenant Boyle, here, the poison.
Take it, burn it, destroy it.
The time was 7.30 when Joan Graff was booked in at police headquarters on a charge of illegal
possession of narcotics.
The file sheet also listed the name of the arresting citizen, Walter Graff, the girl's
own father.
Joan was a plain featured girl, bleached blonde hair, fair skin, narrow hazel eyes and a slim
slight frame.
After Detective Sergeant Schenck had finished typing the police report, we took the girl
back to interrogation for further questioning.
Go ahead, Joan.
Sit down.
Thank you.
Tell me, Joan, how old are you?
16.
Do you know why you're here?
Yes, my father arrested me.
That's why I'm here.
You've broken a law, Joan, a very serious law.
Does everyone get a sermon?
This is no sermon.
You've been charged with illegal possession of narcotics.
That's a very serious charge.
I know.
I also know I'm a minor.
Yes, you are, in which case you'll be turned over to the juvenile authorities.
What will they do to me?
They can do a lot.
They have the authority to take you out of school, away from your friends, give you the
treatment you need.
They can also send you to a detention home if necessary.
What kind of meals do they serve?
They don't serve cigarettes like these in detention homes.
Where'd you get them?
Nowhere.
If it didn't just happen out of thin air, where'd you get them?
I don't know where I got them.
Look, Joan, you've broken a law.
You've done something very wrong, but it's not entirely your fault.
You're not the real enemy.
The real enemy is the person who sold you these cigarettes, and that's the enemy we
want.
Who was it?
Please, I don't remember where I got them.
Are you trying to shield somebody, Joan?
Is that it?
No, it's nobody.
I don't know.
All right, Joan, all right.
You don't have to tell us.
I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do.
That'd be wrong.
But there's something I want to explain to you.
And I want you to try to understand it.
It's about your father and what he did.
My father?
When he arrested you, he did the only thing he thought was right.
I'm his daughter, his own flesh and blood.
Yes, his own flesh and blood.
That's right, right.
And don't you realize what it must have done to him inside?
I don't want to talk about him.
Please.
I've got two children of my own, Joan, two small boys.
Please.
If they were older and either one of them had done something like this, I swear to you,
I'd do the same thing that your father did.
Okay, Lou, that's all for now.
Let's go.
Lieutenant.
Yes?
Lieutenant, I'll tell you.
I'll tell you where I got the cigarettes.
All right, tell me.
From Nikki.
Nikki Malone, my boyfriend from high school.
Do you know where Nikki gets them?
There's a coffee shop somewhere near our school.
That's how Nikki gets the cigarettes, I think.
Haven't you ever been to this coffee shop with Nikki?
No, I don't even know where it is.
I see.
Will I put out a call on the Malone kid?
No, I don't think that's necessary.
We'll go out to the house and talk to him.
Lieutenant.
Yes, Joan?
I understand.
Understand what?
My father, his herd inside.
I have that same herd.
Joan Graff volunteered the address of her high school boyfriend, Nikki Malone.
Detective Sergeant Schenck made arrangements for the girl to be turned over to the juvenile
authorities pending further investigation.
And then we went out to question Nikki Malone.
The address the girl had given us turned out to be located in a run-down section of the
city.
763 was a white single frame house badly in need of repairs.
The shades were drawn, but a dim light inside indicated someone was at home.
Want a knock?
Sure.
Yes?
Does Nikki Malone live here?
Who wants to know?
Police officers.
I'm Lieutenant Royals, Sergeant Schenck.
Oh?
What's the boy done?
We'd like to ask him some questions.
He at home?
Yeah, yeah, yes.
He's getting ready to go out.
Come in, officers.
What is it you wanted Nicholas for?
We'd like to talk to him.
Sure.
How about a drink?
No, thanks.
You?
No.
Mine?
You any relation to the boy?
Relation?
Sure.
I'm his Uncle Fred.
And Nikki?
Nikki?
Yeah?
What do you want?
What's the matter?
He's a policeman, Nikki.
They want to talk to you.
Right?
That's right.
Policeman?
What do you want to talk to me about?
It's about your sideline at high school.
Teach me.
What kind of a sideline you guys talking about?
Narcotics.
You guys must be crazy.
You know what we're talking about.
I do.
Nicholas, maybe you...
Listen to me.
You're not the only one talking about it.
You're talking about a person who's been in a coma.
You've got to be kidding me.
You're talking about a person who's been in a coma.
You're talking about a person who's been in a coma.
You're talking about a person who's been in a coma.
You're talking about a person who's been in a coma.
Not a person in a coma.
I don't know who.
I don't know who.
I don't know who.
I don't know who.
I don't know who.
What's wrong with you?
I don't know who.
What's wrong with you?
You're crazy.
You're crazy.
You know what we're talking about.
I do.
Nicholas, maybe you...
Listen to these guys, Hank.
Shake them down, Lou.
Hey, what is this?
Routine, Nikki.
Come on, empty your pockets.
What?
I said, empty your pockets.
Oh, for the love of...
Where's your room?
You saw me come out the door.
Want to take a look, Lou?
Yeah.
Don't you think you'd better tell me what this is all about, Lieutenant?
I am the boy's guardian.
We suspect your nephew of passing out marijuana cigarettes to students at his high school.
Marijuana cigarettes?
It must be some mistake, Lieutenant, not Nicholas.
Of course not me.
That isn't what your girlfriend Joan told us.
I get it now.
That kid gets caught with a weed and she tries to pass the buck to me.
Why, if I ever get my hands on her...
All right, Nicholas, that's enough.
Anything, Lou?
Clean as a whistle.
Okay, Nicky, where is it?
Where's what?
The cigarettes.
Look, I told you once, I'll tell you again.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I don't have no marijuana cigarettes.
You found me clean, didn't you?
Make me some trouble.
That isn't what your girlfriend Joan Graff told us.
I don't care what she told you.
You got no evidence to arrest me.
All right, Nicky, that's all for now.
Come on, Lou.
And we were right back where we started,
up against another frightened high school student
who refused to divulge the source of his supply of narcotics.
We didn't have any physical evidence on Nicky Malone,
but we did believe that the young girl had been telling the truth
and therefore decided to place him under surveillance.
He was our closest link to the source of the narcotics supply.
For four days, we followed his every move.
At 8.30 every morning, he left the house,
walked six blocks to his high school,
left school at 3.20 and walked two blocks to a coffee shop
where he had a chocolate milkshake, and then returned home.
He didn't leave the house at any time during the evenings.
On the fifth day, the boy went to the coffee shop,
had his regular milkshake, and then played the jukebox.
Once again, when he left the coffee shop, we followed him.
He's heading in the opposite direction, Chris.
Yeah, this may be it, Lou.
He may be going to pick up some stuff.
He's turning the corner on a Madison.
Here we go, Lou, hold your breath. Yeah.
Pretty bright kid, huh, Chris?
Yeah. If we're right about him, we've got nothing but trouble.
He's disappeared.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. John Lund in Melody in Dreams,
tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Any New Year's resolutions, Harlow?
Ah, two mighty important ones to help car owners everywhere, Hap.
Oh, how, Harlow?
By reminding them that their car's electrical system works like a beaver
every second their engine runs, and it provides energy for starting,
sounding a horn, lights, heater, radio, electric windshield wiper, and cigarette lighter.
Auto Light makes complete electrical systems used as original equipment
on many leading makes of our finest cars, trucks, and tractors.
Right you are, Hap, and that's why my second resolution is to tell car owners
to treat the important electrical system of their car to a periodic checkup
for top performance at all times.
Good advice, Harlow.
Right, so friends, have your car's electrical system checked by experts.
Your nearest authorized Auto Light service station has specialized equipment
to service all makes of cars.
You can quickly locate him in the classified section of your phone book
under Automobile Electrical Service, or call Western Union by number
and ask for operator 25.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage, Mr. John Lund
in Elliot Lewis's production of Melody in Dreams,
a dramatic report well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Right out from under our noses. How's it possible?
Like I said, Chris, bright boy.
Must have known he was being followed.
Of course he did.
Lots of nerve. The law on his tail and he still does business.
Yeah. Well, he's got to go home sometime.
That's right, Lou. He's got to go home sometime.
And that's where he's going to find us.
We got back in the police car and drove over to the Malone house,
parked across the street and waited.
It was beginning to get dark.
The shades were still drawn.
I wondered if anybody ever bothered to raise them.
Time passes slowly when you're waiting.
Cigarette, Chris?
No, my mouth feels like an oven now.
Somebody's home.
Probably his polite uncle. Funny guy.
Wonder what he does for a living.
Oh, I saw a lot of music sheets laying around.
Probably in the business.
Hey. What?
Thought I saw something moving in the driveway. Shadow.
Might be the kid. Let's go.
It is somebody.
Get your flash ready.
Okay, hold it. Hey.
All right, kid. Stand still. Don't move.
What is this? Cops again?
Yeah, Nicky. Cops again.
I thought I shook you guys once.
Why did you shake us, Nicky?
Because... because I don't like being followed.
That's your story, son. Where have you been?
I haven't been anywhere.
Where did you go after you lost us?
I went for a walk in the park.
What did you do? Pick up the stuff?
What stuff?
All right, Lou. I'll hold the lights. Shake them.
No. What is this? A habit? I got some rights.
Come on. Come on. Easy, son. Easy.
Hey.
What's this, Nicky, in your coat pocket?
Nothing. It ain't nothing. Give me that.
Open it up, Lou.
Chris?
That's an awful lot of nothing, Nicky.
Six packs of marijuana cigarettes.
We booked the boy down at police headquarters
on a charge of illegal possession of narcotics.
And then we interrogated him.
Although he realized the seriousness of the charges,
he still refused to tell us where he'd obtained the cigarettes.
His guardian uncle was notified and came down to see the boy.
He seemed quite concerned.
We listened in on their conversation.
The uncle pleaded with the boy to tell us all he knew about the narcotics.
But uncle's pleas went unheard.
A few days later, I decided to bring Nicky Malone and Joan Graff together, face to face.
I didn't know what I hoped to learn.
Maybe nothing.
Maybe something in a moment of temper.
On the morning of December 21st, the young boy and girl were brought to my office.
Sit right over there, Nicky.
Thanks.
Well?
Wouldn't you like to say hello to Joan?
Hmm.
Hello, Nicky.
Know any more good stories, policeman?
Nicky, I'm so scared.
Scared of what?
This whole thing. It's so terrible.
She's right, Nicky.
Something like this can ruin your whole life.
Don't you realize that?
Well, stop with the sermon, will you?
Your uncle seems like a pretty nice guy, Nicky.
How did you turn out to be such a bad apple?
Is that part of your job, policeman?
Telling people what they are?
No. No, it's not, Nicky.
I'm sorry I said that.
Because basically, I think you're a good boy.
I think you're intelligent enough to know what's right and what's wrong.
And you know this is wrong.
I don't have to reason with you.
The thing that really puzzles me is why an intelligent young boy like you refuses to right this wrong.
You made a mistake. We all make mistakes.
Mistakes are forgivable, Nicky.
Nicky, the lieutenant is right.
Ah, what do you know anyway, loudmouth?
Couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you? You had to tell him.
I hurt my father, Nicky. I hurt him very much.
I had to tell the police all I knew.
Big blabbermouth.
Well, find yourself another boyfriend, sister.
Nicky!
See if he'll get you a stick.
Another stick, Nicky?
I mean...
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Another stick of this.
Oh, why can't you leave me alone?
Give me a trial. Set me up. I don't care what you do.
Trial? Jail?
No, son. They're not the answer. Not really.
I'm trying to make you understand that you've got a long life ahead of you.
It'll be a shame to ruin it now.
Our last chance, then. Stake out the coffee shop.
For four days, Detective Shank and myself kept it under surveillance.
On the evening of December 29th, I walked into the coffee shop to relieve Detective Shank.
It was ten minutes to seven.
Hello?
Hi, Chris.
Don't look so sour. Go home and get some sleep.
You gonna sit it out?
Yeah, a couple hours, maybe.
I'll sit around with you for a while.
How about a cup of coffee?
Yeah, I'm up to here. No thanks.
Anything?
No, nothing. Just stares from the guy who owns this place. He keeps leering.
You want me to stick around and go play a record on the jukebox? Here's a dime.
The jukebox?
Yeah, play something. Let's make it festive around here.
The afternoon Nicky got away from us, he broke his pattern.
He did something different. Something he'd never done before.
He played the jukebox.
That's right. He played the jukebox.
Billy May.
Wish you were here.
Broken...
Oh.
Thanks. Now I'll stay with you for a while.
Might even have a cup of coffee.
I was right about Nicky's uncle being in the business.
What?
This is a good time to get some sleep.
He's been playing the tune.
What do you know? The guy's a celebrity. So that's what he does.
Hello.
The night we picked up the Malone kid, we thought he was coming home with his stuff, right?
Yeah.
We couldn't see. It was too dark.
But what if it was the other way around?
What if the kid was leaving instead of just arriving?
Yeah. Yeah.
We've come in here for four days straight.
That record wasn't on the jukebox.
The day that the kid disappeared, he played the machine.
Come on. Let's talk to the guy at the counter.
You the owner, mister?
Yeah. Yeah, I'm the owner.
Police officers.
Police? Oh, hey, now...
Don't get excited. Just want to ask you a few questions.
Well, sure. Sure, officers. Anything.
There's a new record on that machine by a Freddie Malone.
Oh, yeah. Him. I know him. Nice guy.
Nice guy?
Yeah.
Every week he comes in, slips me a ten.
Slips your ten?
Yeah. Put his record on the machine.
Says even if it does cost him dough, he wants to push it.
It's a nice tune, now. Melody in dreams.
Back at headquarters, we learned the whereabouts of Uncle Freddie Malone.
He was playing piano in a small nightclub on Halstead.
The place was crowded with people when we got there.
In a corner off to the right was a platform.
And on the platform, at the piano, sat Freddie Malone.
Think there'll be any trouble, Chris?
I doubt it, Lou. He's not the type.
Hello, Mr. Malone.
Hello, police officers. You have a request?
Yeah. Melody in dreams.
One of my favorites.
One of my favorites? That's no surprise.
It was wrong, huh?
Real wrong.
A lot of poor, innocent kids, Mr. Malone. Real wrong.
Poor, innocent kids.
We still don't know how the record figured in.
That was how Nicky notified the other kids he was ready to pass the stuff.
And the night we caught him?
He was leaving the house. He was on his way out to make delivery.
Poor kid.
Try to protect me.
Someday I'll do something for him.
Maybe. Shall we go?
The manager won't like it if I don't stick around.
It's going to be a big night.
Can't stick around, huh?
Not tonight, Mr. Malone. Let's go.
Suspense.
Presented by Auto Light. Tonight's star, Mr. John Lund.
This is Harlow Wilcock speaking for Auto Light,
world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment.
Auto Light is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry.
They are members of the Auto Light family,
as well as are the 98,000 Auto Light distributors and dealers in the United States
and thousands more in Canada and throughout the world.
Our family also includes the nearly 30,000 men and women in 28 great Auto Light plants from coast to coast
and Auto Light plants in many foreign countries,
as well as the 18,000 people who have invested a portion of their savings in Auto Light.
Every Auto Light product is backed by constant research
and precision built to the highest standards of quality and performance.
So remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right.
With Auto Light.
In the next two weeks, we will attempt to solve one of the most famous of all literary puzzles
as we present Charles Dickens' unfinished novel,
The Mystery of Edwin Drude, our star, Mr. Herbert Marshall.
And it begins next week on...
Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis, with music composed by Lucian Morawick
and conducted by Lut Bluskin.
Portions of the program were transcribed.
Melody in Dreams was written for suspense by Richard George Peticcini.
In tonight's story, Anne Whitfield was heard as Joan and Sam Edwards as Nicky.
Featured in the cast were Shep Menken, Howard McNeer, Joseph Kearns and Junius Matthews.
This is Harlow and I'm the host of the show.
I'm Nick Neer, Joseph Kearns and Junius Matthews.
This is Harlow Wilcox again.
When we meet next week, it will also be next year.
And so, Auto Light and all of us here on Suspense sincerely wish each of you a very happy 1953.
Good night.
This has been Video Network.