Suspense!
Tonight, Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers present Mr. Gray.
In Nightmare, a suspense play produced and edited by William Spear.
Friends, Auto Light welcomes you to Suspense.
And this is Harlow Wilcox urging you to do yourself and your car the great big bountiful favor of replacing old worn out narrow gap spark plugs with a set of new wide gap Auto Light resistor spark plugs.
That's the biggest news I know.
But I've also been told to tell you that Suspense is going to receive a great big important national honor tonight during our usual between the acts intermission.
And say when it comes to honors, you'll want to award your car a set of wide gap Auto Light resistor spark plugs.
Your engine will idle smoother, give better performance on leaner gas mixtures, actually save gas.
And if you want the real low down on how Auto Light resistor spark plugs reduce television interference, see a copy of this week's Saturday Evening Post and turn to pages eight and nine.
See your Auto Light spark plug dealer today. And remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Oh, and remember too, Suspense on television returns to many stations throughout the nation Tuesday night, September 6th.
And now with Nightmare and with the performance of Gregory Peck, Auto Light hopes once again to keep you in Suspense.
They say every nightmare has a prelude, something that inspires it, something that happened or almost happened that your inmost mind seizes upon.
It lives there in the back of your head and it multiplies itself and fattens on tiny fears until it's grown into a monstrous bloated horror.
And then when it's full sized with dread, it springs out at us from evil blackness at night when you're defenseless in sleep.
The prelude to my nightmare occurred at six o'clock that evening, the third of July.
Since Elsa's illness, I've been walking home from the station evenings instead of having her meet me.
It's a pleasant six or seven blocks along Hartsdale Road and then up the hill to Ridgecrest.
Just at the corner there, the kids play baseball.
The signs say slow, children and everything, but it's a nasty spot and coming down the hill, a guy might...
Look out! Look out!
Hey, you, what's the matter with you? Don't you know that...
I didn't see them, brother. They got no right to play with me.
Have you been drinking?
Oh, me?
No, because if you had, I'd pull you out of that car so fast and take you over to the police.
All right, brother, calm down. Nobody's hurt. Nobody's hurt. Just a little scare.
I was still trembling when I got home. I had ached and I couldn't eat dinner.
It wasn't something I could tell Elsa about. She wasn't ready yet to hear things like that.
So I just sat there at the table looking across at Stevie,
half hearing his prattle about the new fishing rod and how many fish he'd catch on our outing tomorrow
and some little story he'd learned in school about Thomas Jefferson and the first Fourth of July.
And then pretty early I took a pill and went to bed.
It was the next afternoon. We were driving along, my wife, my boy and myself.
You know that winding road that leads up from Kingston to Falls Town and the trout country?
A lot of hairpin turns and a few bad shoulders, but beautiful, beautiful scenery.
And that's what we all needed after her nervous breakdown.
A little slow around the turns, Ben. Why do you drive so fast?
You're never driving too fast as long as you feel the car's under control.
Better it wasn't under control a minute ago. What a curve.
Ben, the gas tank's almost empty. Why didn't you listen to me and fill up at the last station?
There's always a reserve after the empty mark.
Bet we run out of gas.
Well, it seems to me, youngster, that when I tell you that...
What's wrong? Why are we stopping?
Oh, that's what I'd like to know.
You know, Dad, you know.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Out of gas.
Oh, Ben. Will you ever learn?
Well, everybody runs out of gas once in a while.
Okay, well, it's a nice day for me to take a hike.
But, Ben, is it all right to be parked like this? On the curb, so close to the road?
Well, why not? Where's the traffic? Only adventurers like us know about this road.
Well, good-bye, folks.
Oh, good-bye, Mr. Know-it-all.
I'll go with you, Dad.
Oh, you'll stay here. Rule of the woods. Always leave one man behind to protect the women.
Can I take out my rock? Can I practice how to cast?
Sure. And you, lady. You wipe off that smile.
With my feet, this is a first-class tragedy.
Well, it's a smart thing you did coming back this way.
Nothing up ahead for five miles but the royal coachman.
What do you mean?
It's the name of a trout fly.
Well, I know that.
It's the name of a roadhouse. Fancy name for a saloon. Hang out for fishermen.
They say...
Oh? Oh, what do you say?
Go, go there crooked-as-looking bunch you ever seen. Crooks from the big town.
You go to my nephew, Sammy's place in town. Sammy Crawford.
Clean sheets, good beds, home cooking. Good undertaker, too.
Called yourself a mortician.
What do they need him for, the fish?
Alive or dead, he puts you to bed.
Well, want anything else? How's your oil?
Oh, just the gas, thanks. Are we all straight?
Yep. Oh, oh, oh, one dollar deposit on the can.
Give it to my nephew Sammy and let him take the dollar off your bill.
Oh, well, we may not see Sammy. We'd like to pitch camp tonight.
Got a place?
No.
Oh, that's bad. Gets dark, mind you. Quick up this way.
You sleep at Sammy's, mister. Better make a reservation. Trout season.
Well, maybe you're right. You got a telephone in there?
Sure have. 15 cents.
Oh, this is gonna be expensive fishing.
Oh, what's nephew Sammy's number?
It's right here on the wall over the phone.
Oh, say, look at that fellow coming down the pipe there.
80 miles. Bound for the roadhouse. Can't wait.
Say, there are two dozen numbers over this phone.
Pick the biggest one, the one in red.
Oh, look at him go, would you?
Go on, you crazy fool.
You're gonna save five minutes if you have to kill five people to do it.
Will you try to straighten out some of them bins up ahead?
Hey, you crazy fool.
The pine trees were casting their last, longest shadows across the road
as I hiked back to the car.
We weren't gonna get too much fishing done on the Fourth of July.
But we had to find some for Steve.
What a kid. Teasing his old man all the time.
When I came around that hairpin turn, there was the car a few yards away.
But no family.
Uh, Elsa?
Hey, Stevie!
No family.
Oh, Stevie was asleep and she didn't want to call out.
That's right, the kid was tired. A lot of excitement for one day.
I stepped on something.
Stevie's trout rod.
Lying in the middle of the road, these kids have no sense of responsibility.
A split bamboo rod with silk winding and a balance that was so perfect.
Well, I stepped up to the car...
Elsa sat in the back seat looking at me.
And in her lap she held my boy.
Dead.
Elsa couldn't speak. She...
couldn't speak.
She couldn't speak.
I forced some brandy between her teeth and made her swallow it.
Her hands were like ice. I wanted to rub them, but I...
couldn't pry them loose from the boy.
No! No!
You see him.
No! You want to make sure.
I know! You want to make sure!
Get away! Get away!
Elsa, how did it happen?
His trout rod.
Always his trout rod.
He was standing at the edge there casting.
He wasn't on the road. He wasn't.
And then there was a noise. A car coming up fast.
You could tell.
And before he could move it came around the bend and it swerved.
Elsa, what?
There was so much dust.
So much dust and pebbles everywhere.
Such a thick cloud of dust.
And stevie flying out of it.
Like a ball or a bird.
Flying out of it.
Elsa, take some more brandy. It'll do you good.
No! No! I don't want any! Get away!
Elsa, you've got to take some more brandy.
Elsa!
That's how he looked.
Standing in the road with a bottle in his hand.
Who was standing in the road?
The man. The man who killed us.
He came back?
He got out of his car and he came over to where I lay in the road with stevie.
He had a bottle and he took a drink and he offered me a drink and he said he was sorry.
And then he drove away.
He said he was sorry!
Sorry!
Elsa. Elsa, darling. Elsa, don't. Don't Elsa.
Poor little stevie.
Poor sweet little stevie.
Poor, poor stevie.
My poor stevie.
And then it began to grow in me.
And then the hate began to grow.
She couldn't remember his car or the clothes he wore and I couldn't make her describe his face.
But I knew that somehow I'd find him.
Couldn't be very far off, not in this part of the country.
I'd find him.
If I did, I'd kill him.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Gregory Peck in Nightmare.
Tonight's production in Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Friends, this does my Auto Light heart good.
It's my privilege to introduce Mr. Fred Dearborn, President of the National Safety Council,
who will present to Mr. Royce G. Martin, President of Auto Light,
the National Safety Council's annual award for, but you can't guess, an Auto Light Suspense Program.
Yes, Suspense not only won the Alfred P. Sloan Award for Distinguished Public Service to Highway Safety,
but another great honor for this same program will now be presented.
Friends, Mr. Dearborn.
Thank you, Harlow Wilcox.
The National Safety Council wishes to thank you, Mr. Martin,
and the Electric Auto Light Company for bringing to your tremendous radio audience
the year's outstanding Highway Safety Program, James Cagney and the Suspense Show titled No Escape.
It was a wonderful story presented to perfection by Mr. Cagney and his supporting cast.
The judges unanimously selected it as the winner.
So now, Mr. Martin, I have the pleasure of presenting to you this certificate of award.
Thank you, Mr. Dearborn.
In promoting highway safety, and you can rest assured,
it is a great pleasure to have Suspense win this outstanding recommendation from the National Security Council.
I speak for one and all of Auto Light employees.
I trust that tonight's show will make an equal contribution,
especially at this time with a heavy travel over the Labor Day weekend.
Thank you again, Mr. Dearborn.
And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage, Gregory Peck in Nightmare,
a tale well calculated to keep you in Suspense.
I plunged the car back into darkness toward the road house.
The killer, the dirty, dirty killer.
There was so much dust, dust and pebbles and Stevie flying on it, like a bird.
Yes.
Like a bird.
Yes, Alza.
He got out of his car and he offered me a drink.
He stood there and he said, you better take a drink.
Now there's the Royal Coachman, that road house.
And he said he was sorry.
Well, stop here and use the phone.
There's a Sam Crawford in Falstown.
He runs some tourist house and a funeral chapel.
I'll call him from here.
Yes.
See all the lights.
Why are all the lights on?
It's a road house, Alza.
So many people going in.
Why are they laughing?
Well, they don't know how we feel, Alza.
They don't know about us.
Is it all right to leave you here for a moment?
I want a call.
There he is.
Would you like me to...
Alza.
That's him. He killed us.
Who?
That's him.
Who?
The one who hit Stevie?
Where?
There he is.
Where?
That one?
The man standing in the doorway?
How do you know?
Can you see his face?
He came over and he stood close and he said, you better take a drink.
He was big and fat and his body filled the frame of the door.
He ran a pudgy hand across his face.
He was drunk all right.
He was trying to shake himself out of it.
He'd never drink again.
He'd never drive again.
Not after I got through with him.
Alza, sit back.
Don't let anyone see you.
He killed us.
Yes, I know, I know.
Now wait here, Alza.
Wait here.
Don't get out of the car.
I watched him go inside.
He walked across the lobby and disappeared in the bar.
I went in after him.
He was sitting there, his elbows on the bar and his head between his hands.
I sat where I could watch him and still not be too close.
Yeah, with soda.
Before the bartender hardly let go.
He had it down.
And then his watery bloodshot eyes looked about the room.
His eyes caught mine.
He called to the bartender and then whispered something in his ear, looking at me.
Then pointing.
The bartender walked over.
What'll it be, Mac?
Oh, nothing.
Really, I don't care for anything.
Oh, it's on this gentleman.
Have a drink, fella.
It's on me.
No thanks.
Can't drink alone, never could.
Come on now, have a drink.
What'll it be?
Can't it be soda, man?
You gotta have a drink with him.
Come on.
Better take a drink with him, fella.
Oh, soda, just plain soda, but I'll pay for it myself.
Just plain soda?
Please, here's the money.
Why do you think you're doing?
He don't want your money.
Ain't that right?
Your money's no good here.
He kept breathing in my face and talking and ordering more drinks.
And I kept thinking of Elsa in the car.
The way her eyes changed when she saw him.
The thing in her eyes when she looked at him.
That man breathing down my neck and guzzling like nothing happened.
I'll have it again the same way.
Come on, fella, drink up.
Come on, you can't drink that stuff without something in it, can you?
Hey, give him something in that soda.
I don't want anything.
He don't want anything.
You don't want anything.
No, I...
I'll have it again the same way.
Coming up.
He kept looking at me.
Breathing at me.
He had the face of such an ordinary man.
Only very beefy.
Such an ordinary man.
How could he do what he did and then run away?
I wondered who he was.
What kind of work he did.
Did he have a family?
Did he have a son of his own?
Was he having all those drinks to try to forget?
Well, I couldn't let him forget.
How long was he gonna sit there?
A couple more drinks and he finally got up.
He threw a bill on the bar and started to go.
Hey, you changed.
Never mind the change.
He waved a pudgy hand.
Big shot, big tipper.
Very generous, nice guy.
He even offered Elsa a drink after he killed our boy.
I followed him into the lobby.
He went to the desk.
$257.
Good night, sir.
Good night.
He started for the elevator.
I hurried to the stairway.
I ran up to the second floor.
I waited off the stairway landing and watched the elevator door open.
Wait a minute, not so fast.
I said wait a minute.
Don't shut that door, not so fast.
There's someone else ringing.
I want to ask you a question.
I have to go.
People are ringing.
Can I ask you a question?
Please step away from the door.
You're blocking...
Answer my question.
Get away from the door, then I'll tell you.
Sure.
Now answer me.
When are you going to...
Smart, Alec.
I think she's smart.
He started down the hall, coming towards me.
I stepped back into the stairway, took a cigarette out of my packet,
started to light it.
He walked past, then he stopped.
Oh.
I didn't want to talk to him, just wanted to do it and get it over with.
I started toward him.
We were alone.
And then somebody was coming down the stairs.
You wouldn't mind coming along.
I don't like it.
Even the service is lousy in the place.
One elevator and you can die waiting.
How's about the light?
There was nothing here to do but think.
Before I can answer him, his fat pudgy hand closed over mine
and drew the lighted match to the cigarette in his mouth.
He puffed loosely.
His hand was damp and warm.
I drew back.
Thanks.
Yeah.
See you're out.
I counted the doors as he passed on down the hall.
One.
Two.
Three.
The fifth door down.
That was his room.
I walked slowly down.
I stood in front of his door.
So now it would happen.
Who is it?
Oh.
What do you want?
I...I...I want to ask you something.
May I?
Sure.
He waddled over to the bed and sat down.
Here, sit down.
His watery bloodshot eyes blinking at me.
I didn't know how to begin or what to do.
The blind rage was gone.
Something happened to me.
Now suddenly I...I didn't know what I was doing there.
What do you want?
I walked over to the window fumbling for some foolish excuse.
It was no use.
I couldn't kill anybody.
I couldn't do it.
I asked you what do you want?
I looked out of the window.
The light from the neon sign on the roof
made everything look so lonely and dead.
What's the matter with you?
And there was my car in the driveway
and Elsa sitting there.
Her face, the thin outline of her face so gray.
Her mouth pressed tight in a straight hard line.
What do you want from me?
She was holding my son.
Holding him tight.
Pressed close to her.
Holding him.
My son.
What do you want?
Why did you kill my son?
What?
You drunken fool.
Why did you kill my son?
You're crazy.
One shot eyes bulging from his head, frightened and guilty.
He reached for the phone and then I was on him.
Why did you kill him?
You killed him.
You, you killed him.
You killed him.
Operator.
You killed him.
Operator.
It was done.
All done and over with.
And now I felt better.
It ought to be easier.
It would be a little less pain when they buried my son.
Elsa, you all right?
He's dead.
I made sure of that.
Now let's get out of here.
A twisted black top road unwound steadily under the headlights.
But something had changed.
It was no longer a road.
It was a cloudy misty jungle where everyone was old and haggard.
And there were no children.
And then we brought our boy into Falstown.
If you don't mind a suggestion, Mr. Kane, you look pretty done in.
When we carried the boy out of the car, I had a look at your wife.
Yes, I know.
Good thing you didn't stop at the Royal Coachman.
Where?
The Royal Coachman. That's a road house.
Halfway between here and my uncle's gas station.
You didn't see it?
No.
Well, it's all lit up with neon like a regular Christmas tree.
Troopers just phoned. There's a job for me.
Somebody choked somebody to death.
Lots of excitement.
Oh, well, who did it?
They'll find him.
She looks bad, your wife. We ought to get her right to bed.
Yes. Elsa?
Now I have no son.
Well, this is Sam Crawford, Elsa. He's going to take care of Stevie.
And we're going to sleep in his house tonight.
I think we need some sleep, don't you?
That's him.
What do you mean?
That's him. He did it.
He did what?
He killed my son.
Elsa.
I'm Sammy Crawford, ma'am. I run the local...
He killed us. He killed us.
Elsa.
Look at me. Are you all right, Elsa?
I don't think she knows what she's saying.
He came over. He stood there with a bottle.
He said he was sorry.
Elsa. Elsa, this is Sammy Crawford. He wasn't there.
He was here, miles away.
He killed us.
I'll get Doc Sadler.
What's the matter with Elsa?
I know he didn't do it. He couldn't have.
I was talking to him on the telephone when it happened from the gas station.
Elsa, we know who did do it. We know. And he's dead.
He said he was sorry. He said he was sorry.
Elsa.
Yes.
Look across the street.
Elsa, do you hear me? Look across the street.
Yes.
Do you see that man walking toward the street light?
Can you see him? Answer me.
Yes.
Well, just look at him, Elsa. That's all.
There. Now he's under the light.
Well?
That's him.
No.
That's him.
No.
That's him. He did it. He did it.
Elsa, that's a minister.
He did it.
You know it wasn't a minister.
You saw it. It wasn't Sam Crawford.
He was talking to me on the telephone.
That's him. That's him.
No.
That's him.
No, Elsa.
That's him.
No. No. No.
He did it.
No. No.
Ben.
No.
Ben.
No.
Ben.
No.
Ben, darling.
Ben.
What? What?
Hi, Dad. Hi.
Hello, Stevie. Hi.
Darling, what on earth?
You're dreaming something, moaning and great racking.
It was a nightmare. Oh, Elsa, it was. It was.
You dreamed you lost your job?
Yes. Yes, that was it. How did you know?
Because I know everything.
Come on now. Up out of bed. We've got a big day.
Fourth of July comes but once a year.
Garage door's open, Stevie?
Why, well, we've burned up the road.
Stevie, stop that talk.
My darling.
Oh, I'm sorry.
You know, instead of going up by Falls Town and up there,
we'll cut across just before Kingston
and find our fishing over around Litchfield, huh?
I feel like Connecticut today.
Okay, Dad. I gotta go.
What did you dream about, darling?
It was so awful.
Me?
Well, since you have to know,
I had a horrible jealous dream.
I dreamt you didn't love me.
Oh, dearest.
Oh, that was the wildest dream imaginable.
Now, wasn't that a waste of time?
Suspense presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Gregory Peck in Nightmare.
Mr. Peck, the subject of our show and your character portrayal
won't do highway safety any harm this Labor Day weekend.
Today's newspapers carried some dreadful predictions
of the accidents and deaths likely to happen.
Yes, I saw them.
And if I may, I'd like to add a few words of my own
on this subject of safety.
The mic is yours, Greg.
Well, this evening, the Electric Auto Light Company
has been honored for its efforts on behalf of highway safety.
You, too, can earn such an award.
Of course, yours won't be quite the same.
No bronze plaque or embossed certificates,
and no one will pin any medals on you.
Yours will be a greater, more personal reward.
The deep-felt satisfaction that comes from knowing
that you've taken care and not endangered your own life
or the lives of others.
So drive carefully, won't you?
Today, tomorrow, always.
Thank you.
Yes, folks, drive carefully and drive happily, too,
by switching now to new Wide Gap Auto Light Resistor spark plugs.
They're ignition engineered to work as a perfect team
with your car's complete electrical system.
So for a smoother engine idle and long spark plug life,
just remember, you're always right with auto light.
Music
Next Thursday for Suspense, Ray Milan will be our star.
The play is called Chicken Feed, and it's the story of a man
whose life was worth literally a nickel.
It is, as we say, a tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Suspense
Tonight's Suspense play was produced and edited by
William Spear and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Appearing with Mr. Peck were Loreen Tuttle and Alan Reed.
Music for Suspense is composed by Lucian Morrowek
and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
Nightmare was a radio play by Herb Meadows
from a story by Samuel Bloss.
Gregory Peck is currently being seen in MGM's The Great Sinner.
Don't forget, next Thursday same time, auto light will present
Suspense, starring Ray Milan.
Music
Ring
You can buy auto light resistor spark plugs, auto light
staple batteries, auto light electrical parts
at your neighborhood auto light dealers.
Drive right, switch to auto light.
Good night.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
Music