And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Listen now to Yuletide Miracle, starring Larry Haynes and Santos Ortega,
and written especially for suspense by John Rogert.
Go ahead and laugh if you like.
Only kids and old ladies believe in ghosts.
Yeah, sure, that's what I thought too.
Until I met a chubby little guy with hair like cotton candy who called himself Sir Benjamin.
But first, let me fill in the details about my meeting with Sir Benjamin.
I was in one of those free eats missions along the Bowery.
I ducked in there to escape a parole officer named Brannigan.
Brannigan was out to hand me a merry set of bracelets for Christmas, when he caught me.
The mission was empty, I had it all to myself.
Except for a skinny young punk hacking out a cough that made the benches jump.
Hey, hey kid, you're sick.
Yeah, I know, you need a doctor.
I've had a doctor.
I'm wearing hospital pajamas under this suit.
Oh?
Yeah.
Yeah, I went down the fire escape to the street to here.
I want to get home for Christmas finally.
I've been years making up my mind to it.
Uh, what are those boxes you're holding?
Christmas presents for my mother, my sister Linda, my kid sister Linda.
Hey, you like this?
Oh, ladies gold watch, huh?
Yeah, pins on a dress.
I once stole my mother's watch and sold it.
And this squares it.
Yeah, what's in the other box?
Nylon stockings.
My sister Linda's always had a...
Hey, hey, hey kid, now come on, get hold of yourself, huh?
Come on now.
Hey, I can't get hold of these presents.
If you could get them to Mrs. B. Simmons for me, tell her that Tommy...
Her son Tommy...
Mrs. B. Simmons...
Kid, kid, come on Tommy, get hold.
The coffin stopped.
And it was right then that Sir Benjamin, the chubby little ghost with hair like cotton candy happened.
The first I knew of him was magic as if, as if he was announcing himself.
It was music coming from an upright piano on a platform way down the mission hall.
A Christmas hymn.
But look until my eyes popped out of my head I couldn't see anybody.
The piano was going but nobody I could see was playing it.
I went up to the piano and leached over the stool to see how the trick was worked.
And then my hands touched something solid like somebody sitting on the stool.
And then I saw fingers, hands skipping along the keys.
Only hands, as if they had a life of their own.
I don't know why but I grabbed at them.
That hurt.
I blues easily.
Hey, I'm saying things and now I'm hearing voices.
My voice, Chris. You're hearing me.
Well, where are you?
Right here, my boy.
Why?
Just be patient and I'll rematerialize.
It takes a moment or two.
I saw the hands, Bill.
First arms, then elbows, shoulders, and then a body.
Slowly.
And then the last thing.
A head with little puffs of white hair.
And then a face.
A chubby face, rosy and smart.
Well, here I am.
Every bit of me I trust.
Who are you?
Sir Benjamin.
I'm sorry if I worried you.
Hey, that trick, like you were invisible.
But I was invisible.
Come on, nobody can do that.
I can.
And that's only one of my powers.
But first, suppose we get right down to business, Chris?
We have business?
Of course.
That boy over there on the bench, Tommy Simmons.
Oh, the kid, yeah, you know, I almost forgot.
He's lying there like dead.
I don't dare go outside, but somebody's got to call an ambulance.
Do something.
It's too late for Tommy.
Well, now we don't know that.
We're not doctors.
I know that.
The problem now is, what are you going to do about his dying wish?
What?
Oh, you mean about delivering those presents to his family?
It would be fine if you deliver those presents in person.
Me?
Hey, now, come off it, mister.
It's not my job and it's none of my business.
Besides, I got problems of my own.
Brannigan?
What?
The parole officer?
How did you know about Brannigan?
I'm a very versatile and talented ghost.
I also have powers of conjuration.
Come again.
Turn the boy's dying wish aside and I'll conjure up Brannigan.
You don't think I can?
I don't think you even exist.
How about that?
I think I'm dreaming you up.
Very well.
I will demonstrate.
Hold on to something, Chris.
Conjuration is a very cataclysmic and strenuous business.
You'll definitely be safer if you hold on to something.
Don't ask me why, but I grabbed hold of the piano.
That's a good thing I did too, because the joint began to rock like an earthquake was hitting it.
Here.
I'm finished now.
I'm finished now.
This is quite a job of conjuring.
But, uh, here's Brannigan.
Why, I see.
On the street, peering through the plate glass window of the mission, watching you.
Holy smoke.
It is Brannigan.
Hey, I gotta get out of here.
I gotta find a back way out.
Over here, through this yard door, quickly.
I dived into the yard where Brannigan's police wasn't blowing at me.
But the yard was a dead end.
High building walls all around like a prison yard.
No exit except a long, narrow alley to the street past Brannigan.
I flattened in the shadows a dead duck.
I was listening to Brannigan shout orders that a couple of blue coats would come running when he whistled.
Watch the exit, men, while I flush him out.
DeAngelo, you're trapped.
Better surrender peacefully.
Do you hear me, DeAngelo?
Trapped was a word like a rat.
Oh, a pity.
Pity.
To that, Chris.
What's the penalty for violation of parole?
A year, maybe two.
Oh, you were a big help shooing me into the yard.
There I go, talking to myself.
You're talking to me.
I could really be a big help.
Give up, DeAngelo.
Don't make me take you the hard way.
Think fast, Chris.
You were to respect Tommy Simmons' dying wish.
You were to go home for Christmas in his place.
Okay, okay, if I was to, then what?
Then Brannigan goes empty-handed.
In order to catch you, he must first see you.
Oh, sure, sure.
Brannigan's suddenly gonna go stone blind, huh?
No.
You are becoming invisible.
It was a laugh.
But the laugh was I was invisible.
At least to Brannigan I was.
He came right toward me with a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other.
Only he looked right through me as if he didn't see me.
DeAngelo!
I know you're gonna be in this yard.
I watched him spursh every inch.
And then scratch his head and give up.
Now, Chris, for your part of the bargain,
get a Tommy's presents.
Go deliver them.
Now, look, I'll leave here and only run into Brannigan outside somewhere.
Now, what about that?
You remain invisible until you've arrived at your destination.
That is, as long as you remain faithful to your mission.
Go, Chris.
Okay, okay.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Where am I going?
Where do I find this Mrs. B. Simmons?
Not far.
Just a brief train ride to an abring town.
The town, Chris, is Bethlehem.
As Sir Benjamin had promised, it was a brief train ride.
But funny, I felt like I'd come a long, long way.
There was a deserted train ship with snow packed high.
The station sign turned silver by the moon red.
Bethlehem.
Not a soul inside.
No, no.
There was someone.
A girl.
A girl in high boots, a snow hat, and the moon on her cheeks.
She was coming toward me.
Hello.
Hello.
Are you Chris?
Yeah, yeah, my name is Chris.
I'm Linda.
Linda Simmons.
I came to drive you home.
Just like that?
Just like what?
Well, I mean, no, no explanations.
Like you knew I was here.
And how come you know my name?
Oh, I was told you were coming.
And told your name too.
You were told?
Somebody telephoned.
Oh.
Yeah, he telephoned.
He wasn't kidding when he said he was a talented ghost.
Say, you, you, you were there.
You, you, you came right at me just now.
That means you saw me.
You can see me, huh?
See you?
Yeah, yeah, face, hands, body, me.
I'm a guy.
You look at me and you see a guy.
No.
I cannot see you.
Then I am invisible.
No.
It's just that I'm blind.
Ah, that drive home.
Let's take it now, huh?
There was a horse-drawn sleigh around the side of the shed.
Silver bells on the reins and a horse whose name had to be Dovin.
Ah, you drove this rig all the way here by yourself?
You don't drive, Dovin.
He knows every inch of the way to the Bethlehem station.
You see, we've been coming here every night for years.
Nice and slow and easy.
I'd been running since I was born and now I was asking myself what for.
A guy can't stay tough in a horse-drawn rig in the snow.
And when Linda put her hand on mine,
she opened my fist for the first time I could remember.
We reached home.
A framed cottage, nothing fancy, with a candle burning brightly in the window.
Come in, Chris.
Mother.
Right here, Linda.
Oh, Mother, this is Chris.
Welcome home, Chris.
Oh, yeah, thanks.
Uh, it's a nice place you got here, Mrs. Simmons.
Oh, I'm so glad you like it.
Yeah, I, uh, I don't exactly know how to say this, Mrs. Simmons.
You see, I'm just a mug.
I quit school the minute I learned how to tell a teacher off.
So if I ain't got the right words...
You don't have to have the right words, Chris.
You don't even have to get it said.
You see, I know.
You know?
About Tommy?
Yes, all about Tommy.
Well, how?
Oh.
Oh, somebody talked to you on the phone, too, huh?
Yes, somebody telephoned me.
Well, the last thing the kid thought about was you and Linda
and coming home for Christmas.
And he asked me to give you these.
Gold watch for you, Mrs. Simmons.
Oh, Chris.
These for you, Linda.
Nylon stockings.
Thank you.
It's, uh, nothing big, I guess,
but Tommy didn't have much to give the way it was with him.
You're wrong, Chris.
Tommy had a great deal to give, and in his way, he gave it.
I don't follow.
A boy come home.
Tommy couldn't come home himself, so he sent you to us, Chris.
You can say about me that I was born in 1935
and I stopped crying in 1936 at the ripe old age of one.
And you can say about me that I let a tear go
I never knew I had.
Christmas, 1961.
Linda.
Yes, Chris?
Don't get me wrong.
You know, it's no crime being poor.
Say it, Chris.
Well, it's like this.
It's Christmas, but I don't see any tree.
And I've been sniffing close enough to the kitchen
to know there's nothing roasting in that oven.
You're disappointed.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
Um, is it all right if I borrow Dobbin outside?
All right.
Of course it's all right, Chris.
Put me down as a guy who never knows when to shut up.
A tree and a turkey?
Sure, lady, nothing to it.
Presto Mephisto, I'm a magician.
Here's your tree, lady, and here's your bird.
What?
Quite a remarkable feat of magic, Chris.
Presto Mephisto, eh?
Sir Benjamin, I was wondering when you'd show up to Kivett's.
You, you are here, Sir Benjamin.
Yes, but I'm not here to show you around.
I dare not show my face in Bethlehem.
Why not?
I lived here once before my present situation.
I wasn't very popular with my townspeople, I'm afraid.
What did they have against you?
Bills, I died owing the butcher, the baker,
and even the undertaker.
Oh.
Let's get back to your problem.
Yeah, a tree and a turkey, and a turkey and a turkey.
Let's get back to your problem.
Yeah, a tree and a turkey, and it's your problem.
I'm dumping it right into your lap.
You got me into this in the first place.
I see.
Had you any money?
Not a plug nickel, and even if I had, the town is shut tight.
But you're a talented ghost.
A tree and a turkey ought to be a cinch.
You got any ideas on it, Sir Benjamin?
Only one.
My customary way of acquiring necessary things while I was alive.
Your customary way?
I've read it, Chris, and I hope never to be a borrower again.
But I suppose it can't be helped.
And just where do we borrow this tree and turkey?
From Uncle Cale's poultry farmers,
just past the Merchant's Bank short drive.
Well, I'm a stranger here.
Move over. I'll take the reins.
Get there.
There aren't any ghosts, and call me crazy,
but Sir Benjamin drove the rig at a smart clip to a farm
stacked with freshly cut trees.
Take your pick of tree and carry it to the rig.
And Chris...
Yeah, what?
No, uh, unnecessary disturbance.
I owe Uncle Cale a formidable bill already.
I threw the tree on the rig and went back.
Sir Benjamin was coming out of a poultry house
carrying a great big fat turkey.
There's a job persuading this feathered fellow.
Here, take the leash and be on your way.
Well, wait a minute. Where are you going?
To leave a receipt for Uncle Cale for one tree and one turkey.
I'd sure like to be there when he reads it.
So would I, Chris. So would I.
I hurried back to the rig right into the arms of trouble.
Brannigan.
Hello, D'Angelo.
What?
Run and you won't get ten yards.
Okay, okay.
What did you do, look into a crystal ball to find out where I was?
I didn't have to. I just took the same train you took.
Now, Bologna, you had to see me to be able to do that.
I had to see you?
But were you invisible or something?
Sure, sure I was invisible.
D'Angelo, you killed me. Invisible.
Oh, yeah? All right, what about me yard behind the mission?
You walked right past me.
You played your flash right on me, but you couldn't see me.
How about that?
I'll answer that one.
Maybe I didn't see you because I didn't want to see you.
And now what?
That's the truth, D'Angelo. I didn't want to catch you.
I had to make noises like wanting to because I'm a cop.
But I didn't want to make the arrest.
Not on Christmas, D'Angelo.
Well, you're making me arrest now.
Maybe I'm not.
But why'd you tell me all the way here?
To see what you were up to.
To see if you really had a heart.
So, you're bringing the Simmons a tree and a turkey.
Well, now, how do you know about the Simmons?
I knew Tommy Simmons.
I saw him pass you those presents in the mission before he died.
I phoned Mrs. Simmons and Linda that you were coming.
If it was you, who'd tell her for?
Me, sure. Who'd you think?
What's it?
I thought Sir Branchman.
You thought who, D'Angelo?
Never mind, skip it.
Now, I'll ask one question and then maybe I'll leave.
Now, think carefully before you answer.
Go ahead, go ahead, ask.
If I arranged for you to keep in touch with the parole officer by mail,
providing those letters were postmarked Bethlehem,
would you, would you like it that way?
Would I?
Branigan, where else does a guy want to write letters from but home?
That's almost all there is to the story of Sir Benjamin, me, Branigan, Mrs. Simmons and Linda.
We had to take the door down to get the tree into the house
and we had to find an extra stomach of peace to accommodate the turkey.
And then later with the fire going and the lights down low,
Linda and I sat dreaming on the sofa.
I had my fist open for keeps and her hand was right in mine like a baloney.
It's been a perfectly wonderful Christmas, Chris.
Yeah, yeah, wonderful.
And thanks to you we had a tree and a turkey.
Well, thanks to me.
Now the tree and the turkey wasn't my trick.
The tree and the turkey were?
Chris, what are you saying?
No, no, really, the thanks goes to another guy.
A chubby little guy who sure has a talent for getting what he wants.
His name's Sir Benjamin.
Sir Benjamin?
Yeah, why?
The coincidence of names.
I used to call my father Sir Benjamin in play.
Oh, we'd play Lord and Lady.
My father and I, he'd call me Princess Linda and I'd call him Sir Benjamin.
The coincidence of names you said, huh?
Linda, suppose, suppose it isn't a coincidence.
But my father died years ago.
Yeah, so did my Sir Benjamin.
The other guy I'm talking about is a ghost.
A ghost?
Yeah, a ghost like I met in a mission when your brother Tommy died.
All of a sudden a piano started going.
Piano music, but nobody I could see was playing.
Chris?
Huh?
Our piano is playing.
Yeah, yeah, so it is.
Hey, you wanna bet it's Sir Benjamin.
That, but how can you prove it?
Well, easy.
I toss a turkey wing at the piano stool.
I bet you Sir Benjamin lets out a yell and complains about how easily he bruises.
Do we bet?
What will we bet, Chris?
A kiss.
That way, Linda, nobody loses.
Suspense.
You've been listening to Yule Tide Miracles starring Larry Haynes and Santos Ortega and written especially for Suspense by John Roberts.
Next week instead of another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense, a gala song fest, well calculated to put you in a bright holiday mood.
The seventh annual Christmas Sing with Bing will come your way over the CBS Radio Network next Sunday evening, Christmas Eve.
Singing along with Bing, Catherine Crosby, the Norman Luboff Choir and those two fugitives from The Met, Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snurred.
Suspense is produced and directed by Bruno Zorato Jr. Music supervision by Ethel Huber.
Featured in tonight's story where Rosemary Rice is Linda, Joe DeSantis is Branigan, Catherine Roth is Mrs. Simmons and Bill Lipton is Tommy.
Two weeks from today, we'll return with The Old Man written by Bob Corcoran.
Another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.