Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Miss Agnes Moorhead in tonight's presentation
of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents a story in the classic tradition of suspense, a new version
of Charles Dickens' terrifying short story, The Signal Man, our star, the first lady of
suspense, Miss Agnes Moorhead.
Why it's Oscar, the super smooth and scintillating sedan.
Super smooth is right, Harlow.
I'm equipped with an auto light electrical system.
Ah, there's none better, Oscar, and it's because your auto light electrical system is designed
to operate as a team with all units and component parts related by auto light engineering design
and manufacturing skill to give you the smoothest performance money can buy.
I know how important the electrical system is, Harlow.
Sure you do, Oscar, and you know too how important it is to have only auto light original service
parts used when replacements are needed, because only these parts are designed by auto light
engineers who design complete electrical systems used as original equipment on many leading
makes of our finest cars, trucks, and tractors.
So friends, always insist on auto light original service parts for your auto light equipped
car.
It pays in performance.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with auto light.
And now, Auto Light presents transcribed, The Signal Man, starring Miss Agnes Moorhead,
hoping once again to keep you in suspense.
Make the most of this moment to TOд fahrenheit in a few days, and make the most of the change
It smashed by like a wounded monster screaming in pain and disappeared into the dark tunnel.
In those brief seconds, I had relived the emotions of my childhood.
I still trembled with the child's terror and fascination that had surged through me the
many times I stood here 20 years before.
Everything had changed. The steep, dripping wet walls of jagged stone that led down to
the tracks. The gloomy mouth of the tunnel. The small signalman's shack huddled against
the side of the cutting. Even the job was held by the same man, they told me, in the
village. He stood there in the glow of an angry sunset, furling a signal flag around
a short pole. I called to him.
Hello, below.
Instead of looking up at me, he turned tensely to stare toward a red signal light that glowed
at the mouth of the tunnel.
Hello, below there.
He finally turned, slowly it seemed to me, even fearfully and looked up. He stared at
me unanswering. I was afraid the suddenness of my call had unnerved him. I tried to compensate
by being overly casual.
Hello, I would like to speak to you. Is there a path I can use to come down?
He stared silently a while longer, then finally pointed his flag to a spot in the cutting
embankment. It was a zigzag path with small footholds cut through the clammy stone. The
track seemed a mile below, but I was determined to get down.
Midway I sensed a vague vibration of earth and air, like a sound that could be felt but
not heard. I tried to fight down a fear that suddenly gripped me. The air was filled with
a violent pulsation. It seemed to have a force that could draw me down. I threw my hands
up to my eyes as though to shut out some terrible sight. I flattened myself against the jagged
rock and clutched hard.
Then I was angry with myself, ashamed of this uncontrolled childish reaction. I could see
the signal man still staring at me. I climbed down the rest of the way quickly, carelessly,
and I walked toward him with a casual smile. He watched me expectantly.
Hello, I'm Amy Sayers. I used to live in the village. I was anxious to speak to you.
I'm sorry I startled you when I called down.
Why did you use those words?
Those words? I hardly remember. I think I shouted, hello, below there, or something
to that effect.
Not to that effect, Miss. Those were the very words. I know them well. Admit those were
the words.
All right, I admit.
Why did you use them?
Well, you were below. I wanted to attract your attention, so I called hello, below there.
It seems logical, doesn't it?
Aye, Miss. If you had no other reason.
What other reason could I possibly have?
I thought you would tell me.
I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have come down. I think I frightened you.
Why would you think that, Miss?
Well, you stare at me as though you had a dread of me.
Aye, Miss. I was doubtful whether I had seen you before.
Well, if you have, it was when I was eight years old, standing on that bridge over the
tunnel up there. I used to love watching the trains. Then my family moved to the city.
This is my first visit back in twenty years. You don't believe me?
I'm not certain.
But where could you have seen me?
Don't you know?
Well, since I've been away for twenty years.
Up there, by the red signal light at the mouth of the tunnel.
Oh, that's why you turned and stared there when I first called.
Aye, Miss.
What would I be doing up at the signal light?
I don't know. I wish I... It is a mistake, Miss. I haven't been well.
What is it you wish to speak to me about?
Well, I'm a writer. I wanted to interview you.
Me? Why me, Miss?
Well, my magazine does a weekly biographical piece on interesting people and unusual occupations.
It's called Close Up.
Aye, Miss. I've read it.
You have?
You seem surprised.
Oh, pleased, perhaps.
That one so unsophisticated as I...
I really didn't mean it that way.
There's a pit of a fire in my shack. It'd be more comfortable for you there.
Yes, thank you.
Aye, this is a lonely post. Visitors must be rare.
Aye, Miss. The branch superintendent makes an annual inspection.
That's all, except for...
Yes?
Come in, please.
Oh, how snug and comfortable.
Most of my waking life is spent here. I've tried to make it pleasant.
And you've succeeded. You were speaking of visitors just as we came in.
I'll put this chair nearer the fireplace.
Thank you.
One chills out there.
I say you have a fine collection of books.
They've given me much companionship in the long nights.
Pretty weighty companions, given decline and fall.
Burton's Anatomy of the Melancholy. Darwin...
Do they surprise you again, Miss?
May I be frank? I'll have to be if I'm to succeed with the article.
My editor is only interested, you know, in the...
Odd?
The unusual.
And the level of my reading seems above the level of my station.
Not many people in any station these days...
Come, Miss, to you called for frankness.
Thank you, sir.
Why would a man with a mind capable of absorbing these subjects
stay on a desolate job like this?
Good, Miss. And I take no offense.
You see, I had when young been very interested in the natural philosophies.
Oh?
I set my course, I studied hard, planned the future.
Then I ran wild, misused my opportunities, went down, I've never risen again.
I've no complaint. I've made my bed. It's too late to make another.
Maybe you gave up too soon.
No, Miss, no. There are forces beyond us that shape us.
One must know when not to resist.
I might have bloodied myself a while longer, but I knew...
I took this position 34 years ago.
And you never regretted?
No. Not until...
Won't you please tell me?
You first tell me what brought you here.
But I have.
You said nothing of what made you think of this place specifically.
There are many places and people.
Well, I told you I used to come here as a child.
The trains frightened and fascinated me.
I always remembered it vividly through the years.
I promised myself that one day I would come back and do a story on it.
Good subjects aren't easy to find, you know.
Why did you choose just now to come?
Oh, these ideas germinate in the writer's mind for a while, and then an impulse...
And you were drawn here?
You say that as though mystic forces were involved.
It was much simpler, I assure you.
I've been working hard. I decided that a few days in the country would do me good.
I planned to use them profitably by doing a story on you.
You might have come to that decision last month or last year.
Well, that's true, but I can't see why you attach such special significance to the fact that I...
Hey!
Why do they frighten you so?
Now, wouldn't you think I might outgrow that silly, childish...
Well, if I was drawn here, as you say, I guess it was to see whether I had.
The modern psychiatrist would say it was a desire to relive a childhood experience.
Aye, Miss, there are many answers.
Why are you staring at me so?
Oh, was I staring at you?
Please, please, you promised something is preying on your mind.
Can't you tell me?
It's... it's very difficult to impart, Miss.
Very difficult to speak of.
If you ever make another trip, I will try to tell you.
Yes, yes, of course, and I will have to make several trips before the story takes shape.
When may I come again? Tomorrow?
Oh, aye, Miss, if you wish.
I'll come at eleven.
You, uh, won't have difficulty getting up?
No, no, it was only that first trip down.
I'll show my white light till you reach the top.
Thank you.
I'll say good night now, Miss.
Good night, sir. I wish you a pleasant one.
I regret I...
Yes, I understand.
Aye, Miss, I think you do.
May I ask then, when you get to the top, don't call out to me.
I beg you, don't call out.
I won't.
And when you come tomorrow night, please, don't call out.
Of course not. Good night.
And may I ask one parting question?
Yes, certainly.
When you came down the path earlier tonight, midway,
you suddenly threw your hands up to your eyes like this,
as though to shut out some dreadful sight.
Why?
It was that uncontrollable childish reaction.
I felt as though the train would draw me down.
I covered my eyes like a child not to see it.
You had no feeling that the action was conveyed to you for some reason?
No. Why should it seem otherwise?
Because there has been someone at the red light at the mouth of the tunnel
each night for a week now,
holding its hands up to its eyes like that,
as though to shut out some terrible sight.
And you have actually seen it?
Every night.
Was it there tonight when you went to the door?
Yes. I saw it quite clearly.
Who was it?
You.
Auto Light is bringing you Miss Agnes Moorhead
with Joseph Kearns in The Signal Man,
tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Hey, Oscar, sound your horn.
Play your radio.
Now start your engine.
Hey, what's all that for, Harlow?
Why, all those operations depend on the sure, smooth performance
of your auto light electrical system, Oscar.
And so do the lights, heater, and electric windshield wiper.
They all depend on my auto light electrical system, Harlow.
They sure do, Oscar.
And what's more, your auto light electrical system works every second your engine runs.
That's why auto light electrical systems,
designed to give the smoothest performance money can buy,
are used as original equipment on many leading makes of our finest cars, trucks, and tractors.
They're the best, Harlow.
Right, you are, Oscar.
And friends, treat the electrical system of your car to a periodic check-up
at your car dealer's or authorized auto light service station.
To quickly locate him, look in the classified section of your phone book,
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,
Miss Agnes Moorhead, in Elliot Lewis's production of Charles Dickens' The Signal Man.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
I returned the next night as the distant clocks were striking 11.
The signal man waited for me at the bottom of the cutting with his white light shining.
We walked silently to his shack, entered it, and sat down by the fire.
I didn't wish to press in, so I said nothing.
He stared at the burning embers for a moment.
Then he turned to me.
I... I'm going to tell you, Miss, as best I can, what troubles me.
I'm glad.
I mistook you for someone else last night.
That troubles me.
The mistake?
Of the someone else.
Who is it then?
I don't know.
What does it do?
This time it stands with its left arm across its face.
The right arm is waved violently this way, as though to say,
for God's sake, clear the way, clear the way.
You've heard those words?
Not certain, not about these specific words, but I...
I've heard it call before.
When?
Oh, one moonlight night about a year ago.
I was sitting here when I heard a voice cry,
Hello, below there.
Oh, that's why you were so startled when I used the same words.
I, Miss, I ran to the door and looked out and saw this someone else
standing up there by the red light near the tunnel,
waving its arm, as I just showed you.
The voice was hoarse, was shouting, and it cried,
Hello, below there. Look out, look out.
I caught up my lamp and ran toward the figure calling,
What's wrong? What's happened? Where?
And when I got to the light, it was gone.
Did you see where?
The tunnel was the only place it could go without passing me.
I ran into the tunnel for 500 yards
and searched around with my light.
Then I ran back here and telegraphed both ways.
An alarm has been given. Is anything wrong?
And the answer came back both ways.
All well.
Yes, of course.
Now, I'm going to take advantage of last night's permission to be frank.
You've been here more than 30 years, haven't you?
It isn't the most cheerful place in the world
with that moaning wind through the tunnel
and the wild harp it makes of the telegraph wires.
It's understandable that you could have the illusion that you heard a call.
And anyone staring at the dark long enough, as you did from the door,
can imagine seeing something.
You've let it prey on your mind so long it seems real.
I was not finished, Miss.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Within six hours after it first appeared,
the main line flyer crashed and derailed at the far end of the tunnel.
Within 10 hours, the dead and the wounded were being brought through the tunnel
over the spot where the figure stood.
Coincidence. A tragic, remarkable coincidence.
But I can't see...
There is more, Miss.
Oh, oh, please forgive me.
Six or seven months passed.
I had recovered from the surprise and shock when one morning,
just as daylight was breaking,
I looked toward the red light and saw it again.
Did it cry out?
No. It was silent.
It didn't wave its arm?
No, Miss.
No, it leaned against the post with both hands covering the eyes like this,
as though to blot out some terrible sight.
And that's why you asked me why I had put my hands to my eyes?
I, Miss.
As I came down the path?
You called out the words it used the first time,
you covered your eyes as it did the next time.
Go on, please.
That very day, as a train came out of the tunnel,
I noticed a confusion of hands and heads at one of the coach platforms
and something waved.
I saw it in time to flag down the engineer.
He applied his brake, but the train drifted past here about a hundred yards.
As I ran up to it, I heard terrible screams and cries.
A beautiful young woman had fallen between the cars.
She was brought in here.
She died on this very spot between us.
Oh, it's horrible.
But I still don't see...
One final word, Miss, and you will judge how my mind is troubled.
It came back a week ago.
Ever since, it has been here.
At the light?
Aye.
It covers its eyes, it waves its arm,
it shouts for God's sake, clear the way, clear the way.
I have no rest or peace for it.
It calls to me many minutes together in an agonized manner,
below there, look out, look out.
It stands waving at me.
It sounds the telegraph ticker.
Did it sound the ticker last night while I was here?
Twice.
Oh, I assure you it did not sound.
It was your imagination.
I have never made a mistake as to that, Miss.
I don't wonder that you failed to hear it, but I heard it.
Do you hear it now?
Aye.
What does it say?
It isn't clear.
It only warns.
It doesn't say against what.
It only, if I only knew what it meant.
What is the danger?
Where is the danger?
There is danger overhanging somewhere on the line.
Some terrible calamity will happen.
You must let reason take you.
If I telegraph danger on either side of me or on both,
I can give no reason for it.
I would get into trouble and do no good.
They would think I was mad.
This is the way it would work.
Message, danger, take care, answer.
What danger? Where?
Message, don't know, but for God's sake, take care.
They would, they would displace me.
What else could they do?
I can help you.
But you must face realistically what I have to say.
Now, will you try?
Yes, yes, I'll try, Miss.
These accidents have shaken you deeply.
You feel guilt about them, even though there was nothing you could do.
You've let it prey on your mind until you imagine someone tried to warn you.
I unheard that someone.
Even the senses can deceive when the mind is under stress.
Men dying of thirst on a desert imagine lakes and hearing running streams.
The bodies of the dead were real enough.
I'm speaking of what you imagined after the accidents.
If you let me, I'll prove to you step by step that the specter existed only in your fantasy.
How can you prove that in the face of what I've told you?
By appealing to the intelligent reasoning portion of your mind.
Listen, you were positive when you first saw me that I was the specter.
You saw up the light, now weren't you?
You used the same words.
Now listen carefully.
I appeal to the intelligent, well-read, reasonable man.
Three words.
Hello below there.
I was 500 yards away at the top of the embankment and you were here, below, with darkness falling.
And three words made you positive you had seen me before.
Can't you see you were trying to fit something to what you already believed?
But then you put your hands to your eyes like...
Further proof.
You've allowed yourself to believe some disaster is about to befall.
When I covered my eyes because of a childish fear, you fitted that to what you already believed.
The telegraph ticker wasn't...
You must hear me out.
Would you at any other time or would anyone at any time believe that a telegraph ticker could sound in a room this small and be heard by one person and not another?
I told you I...
And now the most important proof.
You said that when you went to the door last night, it was there by the red danger light.
Aye, it was.
Would you come to the door with me now and tell me if it is still there?
Aye, Miss.
Do you see it?
No.
No, Miss.
It is not there.
Agreed.
And now I'm going to prove that it never was there.
I studied the light from the top of the hill before I came down tonight.
The post is at least seven feet high.
The light is shielded with a hood.
Even if a person stood directly under it or in front of it, they would be in complete shadow, in darkness.
You couldn't see that person from this door and you couldn't see that person if you walked to within a foot of her or him or it.
I'm going to walk up the incline to the light and prove that to you now.
I walked up the inclining tracks toward the red light at the mouth of the tunnel.
The chill, dank wind had an edge like a cold knife.
When I got to the light post, I stood directly under it.
No portion of the red glow reached me.
I was lost completely in the dark.
I saw the signal man silhouetted in the yellow light of the doorway.
Hello!
Can you see me?
Hello! Below there!
Can you see me?
No.
Good!
Now start walking toward me and tell me when you can see me.
He stepped between the rails of the northbound track on a line with the red signal light and walked toward me.
Then the icy hand of my childhood dread gripped me.
There was a vague vibration of the earth and air.
Far behind him, coming up the grade fast, I could begin to see the glow of the locomotive's light.
Look out! Look out!
For God's sake, clear the way! Clear the way!
He walked as though in a spell.
He didn't hear me or wouldn't hear me.
I threw my left arm up to my eyes and waved my right arm frantically.
Below there! Look out!
Look out! Clear the way! For God's sake, clear the way!
Long after it was over, they found me, still standing there, both of my hands up to my eyes to shut out the terrible sight.
Suspense. Presented by Auto Light. Tonight's star, Miss Agnes Moorhead.
This is Harlow Wilcox again 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.
That's why during these early months of 1953, the Auto Light family joins again in saluting the leading manufacturers who install Auto Light products as original equipment.
Just two weeks from tonight as a climax to this year's Auto Light family salute program, we will present the exciting story of the first and only round the world auto race.
Our star will be Van Johnson and the program will be broadcast direct from the Grand Ballroom of New York's Waldorf Astoria Hotel, where the great Easter Parade of Stars Auto Show will be in progress.
That's Monday, April the 6th, for the auto race that stirred the world.
And of course, be sure to join us next week for another story of suspense.
Next week, an American legend as we recreate the cruel murder of Laura Foster by the bitter Tom Dooley, our star, Mr. Joseph Cotton.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed by Lucian Morawick and conducted by Lud Gluskin.
Portions of the program were transcribed.
The Signal Man was adapted for suspense by Irving Reese from the short story by Charles Dickens.
In tonight's story, Joseph Kearns played the Signal Man.
Agnes Moorhead has been on the road in Don Juan in Hell and can currently be seen in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's picture, the story of three loves.
And remember next week, Mr. Joseph Cotton in Tom Dooley.
This is the CBS Radio Network.