The adventures of a radio detective

“Remember crime is a path that lands you in prison or the grave. Crime does not pay.”

“Alright, cut. That’s a wrap folks,” shouted the director as he motioned for the technicians to turn off the taping equipment.

“Thank God,” said Marge. “I’m getting sick of playing the damsel in distress every week.” She took a pack of cigarettes off the table nearby and shook one out.

“You play the part realistically, though,” smiled Ted, as he offered her a light.

Marge sucked on the cigarette and inhaled the smoke. “You should talk, buster. You get to play the heroic detective that always gets the girl. You’ve got it easy, Jack.

“You think it’s fun for me to get beaten up every week when I try to rescue you, Marge. A guy could die from so much pleasure.”

“Very funny. All you do it moan and groan, while Marv makes with the sound effects.”

“Alright,” shouted the director. “Break it up you two before I decide to break you up.”

“Lighten up, boss,” said Ted, as he lit his own cigarette. “Me and Marge were just having fun.”

“I don’t care,” said the director. “Pick up your checks and get out of here. I have a headache listening to you two.”

Marge grimaced as she ground out her cigarette and joined the line of actors and technicians heading for the front office to pick up their paychecks.

Ted just stood there for several minutes. His eyes moved around the room taking in all the equipment that was used to create the program. The shiny, block microphones still stood in the middle of the room on their stands with chairs strewn among them. The sound effects table stood in the back of the room covered with boxes of sand, coconut halves, suction cups, and prop guns. Over in the darkened corner sat the pile of recording equipment.

Finally, he shrugged his shoulders sadly and headed for the front office. The place was almost deserted. The only person remaining was Edna, the payroll lady.

“Here you go, Ted,” she said while extending a cream colored envelope towards him. Ted sadly took it from her. “It’s a little lighter than usual, Ted. The sponsor wants to move into television. They’re cutting their radio money.”

“Yeah, I know. Bob told me that last week. Told me that I should look for another job before they close down the show. Who in their right mind would hire an ugly bum like me?”

Edna’s face softened with a smile. “You’ll find something. I’m sure of it. The day is still young. Why don’t you go down the Clarh Studio on Oregon Drive? They’re looking for experience actors.”

“You mean sell out my artistic talent to television?” Ted thought about it for a minute. “Might as well try.”

“That’s the spirit. Show them that they can’t keep a good man down.” He nodded and reached for his hat to leave.

He walked quietly down the sidewalk with his hands in the pockets of his grey suit. The hustle and bustle of the city surrounded and enveloped him.

He turned in at Duffy’s Tavern, a little eating and drinking spot that took its name from a once popular radio show. He sat at the bar and ordered. Ted ate his hamburger slowly, trying to savor each bite. Even with a small bit of hope, the horizon still looked bleak for him. It did not help that there was a television on the bar, where a radio had been at one time.

After settling up his tab, Ted stepped back onto the street. He hailed a taxi. “Take me to the Clarh Studio.”

“Must be a popular place,” said the drive as he merged into traffic. “You’re the tenth person today who wanted to go there.” Ted did not feel any better as he settle back in the seat.

When the cab pulled up to the studio, there was of line of people up to the curb. Ted saw men and women, boy and girls, people of every age, size, and ethnicity. He even recognized several fellow radio actors and extras. Television was in town and they wanted to capitalize on it.

The line took hours to move. It was 7:30 before Ted got his turn. He was shown into a small rectangular room with three judges at a table at the far end.

“What do you do, sir?” asked the judge in the middle, a tired, worn out middle aged man.

“I play the main character in a detective radio show called…”

“We don’t need a name. We need to know if you can act. Have you had any experience other than radio? Have you ever been on the stage or anything?”

“No,” said Ted. “But I’m willing to try.”

The three judges looked at each other. Finally, the judge in the center spoke up. “We don’t think we can use you. You don’t have any acting other than radio and besides, crime dramas will never be as big on television as they were on radio. Next.”

Ted nodded and left the room. “Good luck,” he said as he passed the next applicant.

Once outside Ted turned back and looked sadly at the studio and the line of people in front of it. He shook his head and motioned for a cab.

It had started to rain as the cab drove through the darkened streets. Ted watched the people scramble for shelter as the rain came down harder and harder.

The rain reached torrential proportions as the cab stopped in front of the Paradise Towers. Ted quickly paid for his cab and ran into the building.

He wearily climbed the stairs, his grey suit dripping wet. He pulled out his key and opened the door to room 315.

Ted changed out of his wet clothes. He opened up the paper and started to look through the help wanted ads.

There was a knock at the door. Ted looked up with surprise. He wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour.

He opened the door and saw two large men in long overcoats standing in the doorway. The shots that followed were heard by everyone in the building.

When the police showed up the next morning, they interviewed everyone on the third floor. They found one man next door in room 314. His name was Max Tailor and the mob was after him.