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Salud.
Your health, senor.
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This is the Man in Black here to introduce this weekly half hour of Suspense.
Tonight from Hollywood we bring you a star Mr. Orson Welles.
This will be the first of two consecutive performances by Mr. Welles in which he will
appear as the protagonist of Kurt Sjodmak's novel Donovan's Brain.
The producer of Suspense and its sponsors, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California,
feel that this story is so unusual that it merits more than our usual time.
So in somewhat of a departure from established radio formulas, we will bring you the story
of Donovan's Brain in two parts.
Part one you will hear tonight and part two next Monday night at this same time.
Before we take you to the scene of our drama, let's take a little journey of a different
kind.
We'll let a bottle of Roma wine serve as Aladdin's lamp.
I touch the label and presto, we are all transported to that capital of Gaiety, Havana, Cuba.
And now we find ourselves in the charming Pan American Club.
At a table nearby an American has just voiced his delight at the uncommon beauty of the
scene.
Then his Cuban companion responds, you in America also have much that is uncommon to
boast of.
Such is this marvelous tasting wine we are enjoying this minute.
To enjoy uncommon fine quality, Cuba imports this wine from your own distant California.
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And then consider this, you here in America need pay no high import duty, no expensive
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But remember, these days your favorite dealer may be temporarily out of the type you prefer.
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Ask for R-O-M-A, Roma wines, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
And now with part one of Donovan's Brain and with the performance of Orson Welles as Dr.
Patrick Corey, we again hope to keep you in suspense.
As I sit now outside my laboratory door writing under the heading experiment 87, this final
entry in my case book, I know that these are the last words I shall ever write upon this
earth.
I neither ask nor expect forgiveness now or hereafter.
But for those who seek some explanation, I refer them simply to this case book.
Let them read it carefully from its first entry on that ill-starred day of July the
13th.
July 13th.
Today I bought a small Capuchin monkey from an organ grinder.
The animal trembled with fear when I took it into my laboratory and when I tried to
pet it, it bit me.
But I had to make it trust me completely.
Fear causes an excess secretion of adrenaline resulting in an abnormal condition of the
bloodstream which would throw off my observation.
So I fed it and finally the creature voluntarily crept up into my arms uttering little whimpers
of contempt.
When it laid its head against my shoulder, I stabbed it with a surgical lancet.
It died instantly.
Well, David, what do you think of it?
Well, it's pretty amazing, all right.
See what I've done, don't you?
I think so.
You think so?
Good Lord, don't you know?
Well, after all that, I'm only a second-year medical student.
I know, but what other part of a second-year student?
Who is it?
It's me, Janice.
Come in, darling.
Patrick, Dr. Schrout is here to see you.
Oh, come on in, doctor.
You know our son, David, of course.
Yes, of course.
How are you, my boy?
Fine, thanks, doctor.
Well, Patrick, hard at it as usual, I see.
Patrick, you didn't eat the lunch I sent in to you.
Well, how is it this time, Patrick?
A brain.
What?
A brain, a monkey's brain.
Oh.
What about the brain, Patrick?
I've been trying to see how long I can keep the tissue alive.
Oh, is that it in that jar?
Well, that's considerably more to it than just a jar, though.
Want to see how it works?
Is it still alive?
Oh, way, yes.
It's a fairly simple device, actually.
Doctor, variation on Karel's mechanical heart.
The brain lies in a bath of blood serum.
These rubber arteries are fixed to the vertebral and internal carotid arteries of the brain.
The blood substance is forced through the cycle of willis to feed the tissue.
Over here, I've installed a small rotary pump that forces the blood circulation, you see.
But how do you know it's alive?
It's very easy to determine.
The brain, when functioning, gives off infinitesimal electrical impulses.
They can be measured.
As a matter of fact, I've hooked the encephatograph up to a small amplifying system.
The brain impulses can actually be heard.
Here, I'll turn it on.
You see?
Ha-ha.
Quite effective, isn't it?
Yes.
It's effective, and it's... it's wrong, Patrick.
Terribly wrong.
I've tried to tell him, Dr. Schrott.
In heaven's name, what's wrong with it?
Oh, Patrick, you and your mechanistic philosophy, trying to reduce life to a mere matter of chemicals
and test tubes.
The origin of life is from a higher domain than that, Patrick.
And you're profaning.
Nonsense.
You can't start the progress of science every discovery of whatever kind is a step forward.
If I can prove that the brain can perform certain functions outside the body, who knows
when we may be able to go from there?
Oh, Patrick, how do you know that thing in there doesn't feel pain?
How do you know it isn't writhing in agony?
Brain tissue itself is insensitive, you know that?
Just a feeling look.
I'll switch on the encephatograph.
See?
There.
Notice the faintness of the amplified alpha rays.
Notice the comparatively slow rate of pulsation.
Notice what happens when I tap on the glass jar.
See?
There.
It feels.
It thinks.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that, but it certainly shows marked reaction to an external
stimulus.
I wouldn't have believed it possible.
The trouble with you, Schratt, is that you don't really believe in science.
Am it your own way, Patrick, that when you can manufacture love and sympathy and kindness
in a test tube, I'll be back.
You leaving, old boy?
Yes.
Patrick.
Hmm?
Do me a favor, Patrick.
Shut off the pump and let that poor thing in there die.
Let it die?
If it were within my power to grant, that little brain would live forever.
July 18th.
I'm utterly exhausted from lack of sleep.
The events of the past five days have been of such tremendous importance that I must
set them down while every last detail is still fresh in my mind.
I've had no time to make an entry in this record since that day last week, it seems,
a month ago now, when I had my first partial success with the brain of the Capuchin monkey.
At that time, however, it seemed that I was doomed to disappointment.
In spite of all my efforts, the brain of the monkey ceased to live at 1214 that night.
Tired and disheartened, I lay down to sleep on the cot in my laboratory, but at that very
moment, fate was contriving an occurrence which now seems destined to have the most
profound effect not only upon my own existence, but perhaps upon that of all mankind.
Hello?
What is it?
Dad!
Oh, David, come in, come in.
What's the matter?
It's Dr. Schrott.
There's been an accident or something.
He's pretty upset.
All right, I'll come.
Patrick, Patrick.
Thank heavens, my boy.
What's the matter, old boy?
There's been a plane crash on the mountain.
Only one of them was left alive and I've brought him this far to the hospital.
Sorry, that's your job, your county physician.
Patrick, it's multiple fractures of both legs.
The arteries are severed and the legs will have to be amputated.
You're not in any shape to do the job.
Well, I...
Well, that's not my fault.
Take him to the Phoenix Hospital.
I'm not going to take responsibility.
It's too far.
We'd never get there in time.
Patrick, please, it made me in a man's life and I...
Your job as county physician.
No, no, I'm not thinking of that, but it's an important man.
William H. Donovan.
Donovan?
The Wall Street Donovan?
Yes.
You've got to help me, Patrick.
Donovan.
What his chances?
About even, if we hurry.
Well, bring him in.
Oh, thank you, Patrick.
Thank you.
You'd better get some things on, David.
You may have to help.
Yes, and we'll use the laboratory.
Before you go, put the instruments in the steriliser.
And don't forget the GLE saw.
Right.
Oh, but...
But what?
I thought the GLE saw was a good idea.
I thought it was a good idea.
I thought the GLE saw was only used for brain surgery.
Not always hurry.
Bring him in now from the car.
In here.
That's right.
Easy, Doctor.
Round the table, please.
Yes, Doctor.
Easy, easy.
Better get yourself a gown and gloves, Doctor.
Right over there.
You won't have time to scrub.
Yes, thanks, Doctor.
Bad, isn't it?
Pulse rapid.
Aren't very faint.
I wasn't sure.
David, half cc of adrenaline.
David, one to one thousand to venous.
You men can go now.
Is there anything else we can do?
No, thank you.
Patrick, don't you think...
Now that we were alone, if you don't mind, gentlemen.
Good night, then, Dr. Schreier.
Good night.
David, if you remove the blanket from his legs, that's it.
You see, fortunately, a forest ranger got to him right after the crash.
He had sense enough to put a tourniquet on each leg, even so.
Sure, sure, sure.
We'll get it.
Sure, sure, sure.
It's insane.
Something like sure, sure, sure.
He said it over and over.
I hadn't realized he was deformed.
It doesn't show as much in his pictures.
Patrick, don't you think we ought to begin?
There's no use amputating those legs.
No use.
He'll be dead anyway by morning.
Why won't he?
Suppose you're right, Patrick.
You know I'm right.
But still, we ought to try.
We can't refuse to operate just because.
We are going to operate.
Stay in range, please, David.
In the large one.
Here you are, Dad.
Spinal anesthetic.
Will you give it Dr. Schröder?
Right.
Scalpel, please, David.
Scalpel and the Gillesol.
Gillesol?
Patrick.
Well?
No, no, no, Patrick.
I won't let you.
After your performance tonight?
Well, I had.
But, Patrick, he's still alive.
Precisely.
My mistake with the monkey was that he was dead.
I don't intend to make that mistake again.
Come on, David, the scalpel.
Are you out of your mind?
You're taking a man's life.
I'm giving him life.
Donovan would die anyway.
But for a while at least, Donovan's brain will live.
We'd better hurry.
They'll be coming for the body pretty soon.
You can go now, David.
I think I will, then.
You understand, of course.
I understand.
Not a word, not a word to your mother or to anyone.
I understand.
Did you put something in the skull cavity so the eyes won't fall out?
Oh, yeah.
I filled it with cotton, bandaged the whole cranium.
It looked like any head injury.
I hope nobody gets any ideas about an autopsy.
You're the coroner.
You've stopped there.
Look, Schraut, this is a chance that comes once in a lifetime.
William Donovan had one of the greatest minds, has one of the greatest brains.
Well, today...
And now you have it.
It's been on the encephalograph.
Simple alpha waves, of course.
No different from the monkeys.
You can't take a human brain out of its body and expect it to function.
I suppose not, but...
Schraut, did it ever occur to you that the brain might simply be asleep?
Sleep?
Certainly.
An operation like that is a severe shock.
Tap on the glass.
Good Lord, Patrick.
Delta waves.
It was asleep.
You woke it up.
It's actually conscious.
You see, you see, the three of us, three of us conducting this experiment now.
You, me, and William Horace Donovan.
July 25th, I moved my bed into the laboratory, but I've scarcely slept in six days.
I have no longer any doubt that the brain responds like a sensitive seismograph to vibrations near it, including the sound of my voice.
Yet I've found no method of communication with it.
I've devised a simplified Morse code consisting of taps on the glass container together with voice vibrations.
Perhaps...
Perhaps I can teach the brain.
July 30th, Schraut has come to stay with me, half out of a feeling that he shares with me a common guilt, half out of scientific curiosity.
I guess this cinnamon both David and Janice have been avoiding me, not that I really care.
I've been tapping out my code on the side of the brain's container endlessly, day and night, over and over a thousand times so that a baby could learn it, if the brain can learn.
I sleep only when the brain itself falls into exhausted slumber.
When it wakes again, I resume my tapping.
Schraut! Schraut! Wake up!
Yes, Patrick?
Come on! Get up! Hurry!
Something the matter?
Yes, old boy, I want to show you something.
Patrick, you look like a ghost. Where are we going?
Back to the laboratory. I can't believe it myself. I may have been dreaming to leave here.
What's happened?
Come on.
You hear that? Delta waves.
It seems disturbed.
You've got to check my observations, mom. If my reasoning is wrong, tell me. I can't be sure of anything anymore.
Yes, ma'am.
Now listen carefully. You know that I've been trying to communicate with the brain in code now.
If I were able to cause a distinctive pattern of the brain's delta waves by a specific command in code, if the brain responded with the same pattern of sound each time I issued the command, it would prove that I'd succeeded in communicating with the brain, wouldn't it?
Yes, Patrick, I think it would.
Now, listen.
Donovan! Donovan!
If you understand, think three times of the word talk.
Three times.
Talk.
It answered. It spoke.
Then I'm right.
It's true. This thing has learned to talk.
To talk.
July 31, Schart is romanticizing, of course, the delta pattern is so infinitely complex that it would be utterly impossible ever to break it down into specific words, yet that it understands me, that it's trying to communicate with me is certain.
Schart suggests mental telepathy, that I try to make my mind a blank, as the mediums call it, while at the same time increasing the energy content of the plasma that feeds the brain in the hope of stepping up the brain's electrical potential as one would step up the power of a radio station.
Naturally, telepathy is nonsense, but the feeding theory intrigues me. I shall try it.
August 12.
Notice today for the first time two distinct nodules of new brain cells on the frontal lobex. Electrical potential has increased to 510 microvolts.
I've become smoking cigars.
Although I've always hated cigars before.
Nerves, I expect.
August 22 nodules still growing, electrical potential 1450, but no observable results. Lately felt a compelling urge to know more of Donovan's life and collected every available scrap of information about him, a strange man he was.
Strange, ruthless, actually evil in many ways, but nonetheless an extraordinarily brilliant mind.
August 23.
Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure.
It will be the test.
You agree?
Of course.
Sure, sure, sure.
Patrick, wake up.
Patrick.
What is it?
What happened here?
I thought I ought to wake you up, Patrick. You were moaning in your sleep, talking.
Talking? What did I say?
I'm not sure, but your voice was so strange that...
Janice, Janice, what's the matter?
Nothing, nothing. I was dreaming and so Janice woke me up.
Patrick, let me see your hand.
What hand?
No, the other one.
What about it?
You're not left-handed, are you?
No.
Then why have you got ink on the fingers of your left hand?
What?
I don't know.
Were you writing anything tonight?
No.
You must have been, Patrick. Here it is right here on your desk.
Nonsense. Wait, let me see it.
You've been writing his name, William H. Donovan.
Donovan. Donovan Schrot, that's not my handwriting. It's...
What?
Don't you see what it means? The brain has communicated with me.
Patrick, you don't...
Look here. Look at this magazine article. Here's a reproduction of his signature.
And he was left-handed too. It says so here.
Why, it is. It is exactly the same.
Oh, what a fool I've been. Look at this picture, smoking a cigar.
With his left hand, I wondered why it suddenly started, smoking cigars.
The same brand too. Janice, try to remember what you heard me saying just before you woke me up.
Come on, Janice. Think.
Patrick, I... I can't believe...
Think, Janice.
All I heard was something like, sure, sure, sure.
Sure, sure, sure. Of course. Don't you remember, Schrot?
He said it that night. It was the only thing we ever heard him say.
It was an expression of his. It tells about that in one of the articles too.
Yes, there it is.
It wasn't your voice, Patrick.
It wasn't my voice. You see, the brain has grown.
And it's strong enough to influence not only the higher functions, the frontal lobe,
but the speech centers, the motor centers of another brain.
Patrick, if this is true, then your experiment has been successful. It's ended.
Ended? It's only begun.
Patrick!
Don't you see what this means?
Patrick, listen to me!
Oh, what, Janice? What?
You've got to stop.
Stop?
I can't stand it any longer.
Can't you see where it's led you?
When you cut yourself off from your family, when you neglected your health,
began having fits of temper and were like...
someone I hardly recognized as the man I married.
All that I tried to understand.
But don't you see what you've done? You are a murderer, Patrick, a murderer!
Janice, darling!
David told me the whole thing.
That poor boy is half insane himself from worry.
Insane? What do you mean by that?
What I say. You killed Donovan.
Janice, darling.
Maybe he wouldn't have lived anyway, but you killed him.
And now this, this thing has gained such power over your mind
that it can make you do things you don't even know about.
For all you know, it could make you do anything.
Anything!
You've got to choose, Patrick.
Janice, please.
I suppose you're right, but I'm utterly exhausted.
I can't even think anymore.
You've got to think.
Give me until tomorrow. Let me sleep.
Then tomorrow I'll do something, I promise you.
All right, Patrick.
Tomorrow.
But if you don't do something, if you don't destroy that thing, I will!
The brain!
It's almost as though it heard you and were raging...
raging at you.
This way, please, Dr. Croy.
Come on, darling.
But, Patrick, why are we going in here?
A psychiatric clinic?
I told you I'd do something, Janice.
I've... I've got an idea.
You mean you're... you're having yourself psychoanalyzed.
Well...
Something like that.
Something like that. I'll tell you about it later.
First, I want... I want you to talk to this man alone.
Dr. Zanger, this is Dr. Croy.
How do you do, Dr. Croy?
I heard something of your work.
Oh, yes.
And this is Mrs. Croy.
Of course. Excuse me.
I'm happy to meet you, Mrs. Croy.
Thank you, doctor.
Won't you come into my office?
I will, sir.
Janice, would you mind waiting in the reception room?
I'll be out in just a moment. Thank you.
Why, certainly do you.
In here, please, doctor.
I will.
Doctor, she seems quite normal.
I'd expect it from what you told me on the telephone.
I... I know. I...
I know. I...
I can assure you I...
I... I... I hate to tell you this, but, uh...
Doctor...
She's quite insane.
I see.
Yes. Uh...
Paranoia.
She's always been, you know, jealous of my work.
And, well, last little while, she started...
She's got a...
A delusion that...
She thinks I've made some kind of a monster up in my laboratory.
It controls my mind and controls my actions.
Huh.
So I'm putting her completely in your hands.
Oh. Well, it's...
It's, of course, a little unusual, but since you are yourself a medical man...
That's right.
You definitely wish to commit her, then, huh?
Yes.
Yes. You have the papers.
Oh, yes. Here you are.
Just your signature will be enough, Doctor.
Ah.
There you are.
Uh, you... you'll let me know about everything, won't you?
Oh, naturally, Doctor. We keep you informed.
Thank you.
Well, good-bye, then, Dr. Corey. We... we'll do what we can.
Oh, right.
Patrick.
Mrs. Corey is staying with us, Miss Wilcox.
Yes, Dr. Zangler.
Patrick.
Come back.
Patrick!
Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Corey. Just come with me, please.
Patrick!
No.
Where are you going?
Let me go! Let me go!
Help me!
Well, Dr. Corey.
Yes?
Oh, about the bill, how do you wish it to be handled?
Uh, the bill.
The... the bill.
Sure, sure, sure.
I... I'll take care of it by the week.
The checks will be signed to William H. Donovan.
Sure, sure, sure.
August 20th. It's nearly three weeks now since Janice went away.
I can't understand how she could have left me just when I needed her most.
When I try to question Schrott or David about it,
they only look at me strangely and change the subject.
Clearly, they too now are in on the conspiracy.
Sometimes it seems the only person I can think of is Dr. Zangler.
I'm not sure.
Sometimes it seems the only person I can trust is Donovan.
The brain communicates with me more freely now each day.
I know it has some great plan in mind for me, for both of us.
I'm waiting.
Patiently waiting.
Donovan!
Donovan, I'm listening, Donovan.
Don't be angry, Donovan. I'm trying to understand.
I'm listening, Donovan.
I'm listening.
I'm...
Sure.
Sure, sure, sure.
And so closes Donovan's brain.
Part One, the first of two half-hour presentations of Kurtzjodemak's story,
presenting Orson Welles as star of Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by William Spear.
We sincerely hope you enjoyed the performance of Orson Welles
and that of the whole cast tonight in our Roma Suspense play,
and that you'll make a note to be sure not to miss the completion of this story next week.
The Roma Wine Company would like to express its thanks
for the many letters of appreciation from listeners,
which we are constantly receiving saying how much you enjoy these broadcasts.
And here's a thought.
To discover the enjoyment these Suspense programs offer,
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And so you must first sample one of the many delicious Roma wines
to discover for yourself their wonderful taste and quality,
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You'll discover, as of other millions before you,
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Don't forget then, next Monday,
you will hear Part 2 of Donovan's Brain starring Orson Welles
in the completion of this remarkable tale of Suspense.
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