The Big Story: Blind Date with Murder (EP4907)

Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at shopify.nl. That's shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. Welcome to the Great Detectives of Old Time Radio. From Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we're going to bring you this week's episode of The Big Story. But first, I do want to encourage you, if you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. I do want to promote our other podcast, and today I'm highlighting the Old Time Radio Snack Wagon at snackwagon.net. We will be launching into a brand new Old Time Radio Snack Wagon season starting on next Monday. And we're going to bring you an exciting mix of comedy, drama, news, and all sorts of little bits of Old Time Radio. Either self-contained programs or excerpts of longer programs. These are great little bite-sized paste of old-time radio that are great to listen to on short trips or going in the store to get something real quick. You can check these out at snackwagon.net or wherever you get your podcasts from. But now, from September the 22nd, 1948, here is Blind Date with Murder. Long ago, it's also now Radio's Mystery Theater. Like a vintage brew that gets tastier by the years, the radio mysteries of the 30s, 40s, and 50s, although resting in the dusty archives, are still fresh and vibrant. Let's sit back now, as the listener did so many yesterdays ago, and try to figure out who done it. The Big Story Here is America. Its sound in its fury, its joy in its sorrow, as faithfully reported by the men and women of the great American newspapers. Now the story as it actually happened. Harry Godinski's story as he lived it. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. You are Harry Kodinsky of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. And here it is, your night off. And what a night. What a night. As you leave the city room, you look out the window, and there's a full July moon tinting the smokestacks with eerie gold and a warm and sensuous breeze eddying in through the window. And somehow, the next thing you know, you're on the phone. You make a date with a certain blonde nurse at Braddock General Hospital, and a couple of hours later, you're waiting for your date near the hospital switchboard when... Braddock General Hospital? Who? Yes, sir, he's here. One moment, please. For you, Mr. Gidinski. I think it's your editor, Mr. Wall. Thanks, Mary. Hello. Harry, Bill. Now, listen, I've got an assignment for you. Oh, this is my night off, Bill. I've got a date. Now, look, I'm shorthanded and you're in bratty. We just got an anonymous phone tip. There's been some shooting across the river in Duquesne. I'll get over there right away and check. But, Bill, I... Now, call me back the minute you have something. So you stand up, your beautiful blonde, and start to move. As you drive across the Rankin Bridge, turn left and climb the winding hillside to Duquesne, You curse your craft, the Post-Gazette, and three times over, your editor, Bill Walsh. You roll into a dark and dingy section of Duquesne, and suddenly you see a man walking along a deserted street. You can't see his face in the darkness, but you figure you'll ask him if he's heard anything about the shooting. Uh, hey, mister. Huh? What is it? What do you want? I only wanted to ask. Get out of that car. What? Get out of that car and put your hands up. Okay. Now, step closer, buddy, so I can see you. I don't know what this is all about. Moriarty. Patrolman Fred Moriarty. It's you, Kadinsky. Yeah. Fine sweats you gave me, too. Here I am, a reporter being held up by Duquesne's only night cop. Yeah, and the guy they call the friendly cop. Sorry, Kadinsky. I didn't know it was you. What's the matter with you, Moriarty? What are you so trigger-happy about? Well, there's a hoodlum here in town. He's threatened to get me to go gunning for me. Hoodlum, huh? Who? Name's Lester, Steve Lester. Say, wait a minute. We got a tip that there was some shooting here in Duquesne. You know anything about it, Fred? No, no, Kaczynski. I haven't heard anything. Why not jump in the car and we'll have a look around? No, no, no. You go ahead. I've got some business to take care of. my name's Kudinsky a reporter Post Gazette what's happening oh we heard some shots in that house shots yeah two of them you see I live next door name is Baker but anyway my little girl Marilyn and I heard two shots. What happened? Who got shot? Well, I don't know. Nobody's going into the house to look. What? Well, don't look at me like that, mister. I ain't taking no chances. What this town needs is more policemen. The killer may still be in there. You mean to say people may be dead in there, dying, needing help, and you're waiting? The whole lives here. A widow named Agatha Norton. You walk up to the front door And strangely, Baker follows you. The goose flesh jumps out all over you. Your blood chills like jelly. You're scared. You're plenty scared. Maybe Baker's right. Maybe the killer is still in there. But you go ahead. You rub your sweaty palm on your new suit. And open the door. There's no sound. Nothing. You both go ahead. Kudinsky. What is it, Baker? I... I just stepped on something. Switch on the light. Good Lord. Who's this? The widow, Mrs. Norton. Kudinsky, she... Yeah, yeah. You bet I... Pull her through the head. There were two shots. What's that room there? That's the kitchen. Let's go. Oh. Another body. Slug through the head. No one, Baker? Yeah, I... Pull yourself together, Baker. Who is it? Mrs. Norton's son, John. See? Sweet mess. Now, Baker, listen. I want you to do something for me. Where's the nearest phone? Down at the grocery store. It about a block from here All right Down there phone the Post Send a photographer Come to call the district attorney office and send some men out here And I got that Yeah yeah I guess so Daddy Daddy That's my daughter, Marilyn. She... Daddy! They told me you were in here with the man from the newspaper. I got something to tell you, Daddy. What is it, honey? I heard another shot. Where? I think it came from Mr. Lester's house. Steve Lester? Yeah. Marilyn, I have a car outside. Will you show me where Mr. Lester lives? Oh, I'll be glad to. Kudinsky, look out. Now, don't worry, Baker. I won't take her right up to the house. You go ahead and make that phone call. Come on, Marilyn. Isn't this exciting? You drive down Urban Street, and you figure Moriarty and this Steve Lester went gunning for each other, and one of them got it. But who? Meanwhile, this kid beside you with the curly golden hair and the wide blue eyes chatters about, of all things. The movies? Oh, I love them. I could go all the time if Daddy and Mother would give me the money. Uh, where's the house the shot came from, Marilyn? Oh, it's down that dirt road. The Red House, see? Yeah. You stay right here. Don't leave this car, you know what I'm saying? Oh, yes, sir. And if I don't come back a little while, you run and get someone to come over here. Oh, all right, I will. My, isn't this thrilling? Just like the movies, isn't it? You creep into the house, expecting to find another corpse. And you do. It isn't Patrolman Moriarty, so it must be Steve Lester. You get out of there in a hurry. Drop your movie-mad little friend and look for a nearby phone. You find it in the empty police station in Duquesne City Hall. And just as you're about to call the office... Who's that? Who's that? Oh, it's you, Moriarty. Been looking all over for you. Have you? Yeah, I was just going to call my office when you walk. Put down that phone. What? Put down the phone, I said. Right, Moriarty. What are you... What are you pulling a gun on me for? Now, put out that desk light. Put out the light, do you hear? You want me to blast your head off, do you? I did it before, you know. I did it three times. I'm a killer three times over, Kandinsky. So what's one more? What difference does it make now, huh? Now, wait a minute, Moriarty. You mean you killed Mrs. Norton and her son, too? Yeah. But why? Maybe Steve Lester was a hoodlum, but the Nortons weren't criminals. I had my personal raisin, see? I had it coming to him. The whole rotten bunch of had it coming. I want to tell you why, Ketensky. Yeah. You and me are going to sit here in the dark, and I'm going to tell you why. I gotta tell it to somebody. I gotta get it off my chest. You're a reporter. You like a good story? You're gonna get one. Only... Only there happens to be a hitch in this story, Kaczynski. What's that? You'll never live to print it. You, Harry Kudinsky of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, started the evening on a date with a blonde, but now you're sitting in the darkness of the deserted Duquesne police station opposite a killer, and you're scared. In the dark, his eyes watch you with a fixed, glassy stare of a cat and glow with a glaze of madness. You listen to Patrolman Moriarty, and the words gush out crazily, tumble one after the other, but the shadowy gun in his hand never wavers. You know what they call me, Kodinsky? You know what they call me here in Duquesne? They call me Moriarty, the friendly cop. Everybody likes me. All right. When I was a rookie, a young cop just starting out, I married my wife, Lola. There was this other man who wanted her. Beautiful girl, Lola, pretty as the picture, and he wanted her. His name is Waylon. Paul Whelan. He owns a bar and grill on my street. You hear me, Kaczynski? I hear you. All right. Paul Whelan wanted her, but I married her. Then one day last week when I was off duty, I stopped in at Whelan's bar and grill. Lola. Fred. Well, hello, Moriarty. What are you doing here, Lola? Fred. What are you doing back here with him in this booth alone? Well, what's wrong with that? What's wrong with that? Will you stop staring at me as if I were a common criminal? Can't I come in for a glass of beer if I want to? And if I meet Paul Whalen here and we have a friendly glass of beer, is there anything wrong with that? We'll live there. Let's go home, Lola. No. No, I won't. You will. You hear me, Lola? You will. You'll go home with me and you'll go now. Wait a minute, Fred. Take it easy. Sit down and have a drink with us. It's on the house. You know what you can do with your drink, Will. And come on, Lola, let's go. What would you have done, Kudinsky? What would you have done? Your own wife sitting in a dark booth in a beer joint with another guy. Wouldn't you have been suspicious? Wouldn't you? Well, answer me. Don't sit there and say nothing. Wouldn't you have done what I did? Sure, sure, Moriata. You bet I would. Any man would. Yeah. Yeah, you're right there, Kudinsky. because if you didn't say that, I'd have shot you dead with this gun. Anyway, Lola and I got home and we had a fight. Fred, will you stop it? Will you stop asking me questions about Paul? How long have you been seeing him behind my back, Lola? I told you I have not been seeing him. I just went in for a beer and I saw Paul and we talked a while over nothing in particular and that's what happened. Is it? That's what happened and that's all that happened. Don't you understand? Can't you get it through your stupid, suspicious head? What more can I say? What more do you want? The truth. Fred, for heaven's sake. You'd like to get rid of me, wouldn't you, Lola? You'd like to take up with Paul Whalen just because he's got money. I don't know, Fred. I don't know. I give up. I married you for better or for worse, and I got worse. Fred Moriarty, the friendly cop. Fred Moriarty, the stupid cop. Oh, Lola. Lola, it's just that I'm so crazy about it. Oh, don't talk to me anymore. If you feel that way, if you think I'm two-time, you go ahead and think it. I don't care anymore. I just can't take it anymore. I can't talk about it anymore. I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Lola. I love the Kandinsky. I was crazy about it. I felt terrible. terrible, all broken up, you know what I mean? Well, Julia... Sure, Fred, sure. I know how you must have felt. Yeah. How funny. Everything's so funny. Inside my head, you know. It goes around and around and around. Anyway, when I left Lola, I had to go out on duty. I put on my uniform and walked out of the house. I met a neighbor of mine, the widow Norton. Agatha Norton? Yeah, Gossipy Norton. He called her in my neighborhood. Oh, Mr. Moriarty, I don't know what's out of tell you. I don't know what's out of tell you, seeing as you're always so nice and friend-like. All I can say is it's a shame and a disgrace, a downright shame and disgrace that such a thing has to happen to a nice man like me. Oh, just a minute, Mrs. Norton. You're calling a little too fast for me. Now, what are you talking about? That's the way it always is. That's the way it always happens. The husband is the last one to know. And it's my duty as a decent woman to tell you. Well, tell me what. Your wife, Lola, and this other man, Paul Whalen. That's what. He's been coming to your home while you're on duty. You lie. You snake-tongue-chattering fish wife, you lie. Oh, I do, do I? Well, we'll see about that. I happen to know it's the truth. Paul Whalen's green car has been out in front of your house while you've been away. And it'll be there tomorrow night. He's been seeing your wife right under your nose. and you called me names just because I said to write. That's what I get for trying to do you a favor. Lola. Lola. Hello, Mr. Moriarty. My goodness, you look awful scary. What's the matter? Go home, Marilyn. I was only saying you look awful scary. Go home, you hear? Go home, Marilyn. All right, Mr. Moriarty, but... Gosh what are you picking on me for I didn do anything You Harry Kudinsky are sitting here in danger of your life The killer is sitting in the dark, just opposite you. His hands are jittery on the gun. And he's promised to kill you after his story is over. But for the moment, you almost forget your danger as the story he unfolds grips you, hypnotizes you. Now you lean on every word. I got it right between the eyes, just like that. You see, Kudinsky, I guess I was walking around in a kind of fog. Then all of a sudden, I ran into this hoodlum, this Steve Lester on the corner. He laughed right in my face and said... Hey, tell me your wife's been two time in your flat foot. Why, you dirty... Go ahead, chump. Go ahead, call me names. But it's the truth, sucker, even if you don't know it yet. It's a lie. You hear me, Lester? It's a rotten line. Is it? Not the way I heard it. It's the McCoy. While you're out pounding the beat here, this guy Paul Whelan is at home. You're home, making beautiful music with your ever-loving wife. Keep your dick mouth shut. You're here, Lester. Keep your mouth shut. Oh, I got it wide open right now, Moriarty. And I'm gonna keep it wide open. You stuck a knife in me once and sent me to the pen, and now I'm gonna stick a knife in you. Only I'm gonna turn this knife around and around. I'm gonna spill this to everyone I meet. and when I get through the whole town, he's gonna know about it. So long, sucker. I guess I went a little crazy after that, Kodinsky. I walked right off my beat and went into Paul Whelan's place. I wanted to see if he was there and where he'd been last night. I wanted to make sure. I sat down in the corner booth waiting and watching. I didn't see Paul Whelan around. Then I saw a man come in. sit down at the bar and start to talk to Bert's apartment. Hiya, Bert. Hello, Frank. What's in tonight? Paul, he's in the back room. Waiting for suckers like me again. Yeah, you got those poker cards shuffling ready to go. I didn't think you'd come back after the licking you took last night. Don't remind me. I get a headache every time I think of it. How do you like that? I come in last night just for a beer. The next thing I know, I'm playing poker with Paul. We play all night, and what happens? I lose 50 bucks, and... You say you played poker all night with Paul Whelan? Why, yeah. Yeah, Moriarty, but it was just a friendly little game. Yeah, Fred? He sure Paul's in the back room. Sure, I'm sure. What's the matter with you, Fred? What's eating you? If you don't believe me, look in the back room and see for yourself. Well, hello, Moriarty. Just getting up a friendly little poker game. Draw up a chair, Lieutenant. I'll deal you a hand. I knew it then, Koditsky. It was all lies. I knew what a fool I'd been. Paul Whelan hadn't been at my house last night. He wasn't there tonight. Yeah, I'd made a fool of myself. I'd said some rotten things to Lola, and I couldn't wait till I got home. When I got home, she was gone. The wife was gone? Yeah, gone. Left me. Left to know that she was sick and tired. She was fed up through with me. And then... Then I thought... They did it. They ruined my life, stole Lola from me. And then... And things in my head started to spin round and round. All I wanted to do was kill, kill. So I went to the widow Norton's house first. She was in the living room knitting. And I walked right in on her. Hello, Mrs. Norton. Mr. Moriarty, what? You know what you've done, Mrs. Norton, with your lying tongue? You've ruined my life. Lola's left me. She's left me because of you and your gossiping and your filthy lies. Mr. Moriarty, you got a gun. That's right. I'm going to stop that tongue of yours from wagging anymore, Mrs. Norton. I'm going to stop it for a long time. You'll never lie and flander and gossip again. Mr. Moriarty, no. No! No! After that, I ran through the kitchen. You see, Kodinsky? I ran through the kitchen. I wanted to get to Steve's house. But just then, Mrs. Norton's son, John, came through the kitchen door. Moriarty! What are you doing with that gun? Moriarty! No! I didn't really want to kill a boy, but he was a witness. What could I do? After that, Kodinsky, I started out to get Steve Lester. That's when I met you. You didn't know then, did you? No, no, of course you didn't know. I would have told you my story then. Yeah, I would. But my work wasn't done yet, no, not yet. It was still Steve Lester. I walked into his house. He looked at me, scared like a rabbit, his mouth hanging open. Fred, you're going where I just sent Mrs. Norton, Steve. Fred, no! That's all, Kandinsky. I came back here to the police station. I don't know why. I guess I didn't know what else to do, where to go. Now, listen, Maury, are you? You'd have done it, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, Kandinsky? You'd have killed them all, wouldn't you? The way they gossiped about me, the things they said. They stole all of them. I mean, they're the reason my wife left me. Me, the friendly cop, Fred Moriarty, me. What's that? Police cars, Moriarty. Police? Yes. Murder. The chair. They'll take you there. I've seen the chair. I've seen it with my own eyes, Kaczynski. It's terrible, terrible. Kaczynski, Kaczynski, don't let him. Here. Here's my gun. I give up to you, Kaczynski. You know my story. Write it in the paper. Tell them how I've been robbed and cheated. Tell them how I was always a friendly cop. You know, I never harmed anyone in my life. Took little children across the street and smiled at everybody. Tell them, Kaczynski, tell them. They come in. The police from McKee's port and the DA's men. You tell your story quickly, and they handcuff Fred Moriarty, walk him out. And there, waiting on the sidewalk in front, is little Marilyn Baker. Hello, Mr. Moriarty. Gosh, I heard them talking all about what you did. Hey, they've got you in handcuffs and everything. You'd better run along home, Marilyn. All right, Mr. Godinski, I will. But honest, Mr. Moriarty, I didn't mean to get you into trouble or anything. I just made up that story I told to Mrs. Norton. What story? Well, about Mr. Whalen coming to your house when you were away and all. You made it all up? And told it to Mrs. Norton? Oh, gosh, yes, but it was just a little fib. I didn't mean any harm by it. Honest, I didn't. Darling, Mother, why did you do it? Why did you tell Mrs. Norton that lie? Why? Why? Oh, my goodness, I didn't mean anything, Mr. Moriarty I just wanted 50 cents to see that new scary picture of the Strand So I told Mrs. Norton I'd tell her a secret if she gave me 50 cents to go to the movies And she did I guess maybe I shouldn't have told that fib, but I did want to go to the movies, so You see, I just love scary pictures Now we read you that telegram from Harry Godinski of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Completely broken, killer in tonight's big story was unable to repeat his confession to police, so I filled in the details for him. After many tests to determine his sanity, he was found guilty and sentenced to the electric chair at the state penitentiary at Belfont. Following my big story to the end, I was appointed deputy sheriff and rode handcuffs with the killer on his trip to the death house. And that's Mystery Theater. Every week, we'll reach into the dusty file, brush it off, and present a still, up-to-date replica of a whodunit of yesterday. Thank you The End radio and television service. Starting a business can be overwhelming. You're juggling multiple roles, designer, marketer, logistics manager, all while bringing your vision to life. Shopify helps millions of business sell online. Build fast with templates and AI descriptions and photos, inventory and shipping. Sign up for your one euro per month trial and start selling today at Shopify.nl. That's Shopify.nl. It's time to see what you can accomplish with Shopify by your side. Welcome back. I should note that this is one of the more recent additions to the big story circulating episodes. This was from the collection of Jerry Hendegas. He shared it about four years ago online. The sort of intro to the episode, the Mystery Theater, I was expecting when I saw Mystery Theater on the label that we were going to get, you know, the sort of Howard Duff, Peter Lorre thing, had not heard this before, likely from the 70s or 80s and part of the American Forces Network as they were playing programs that they had in their archives and reflecting that old-time radio remained popular during that era. Now, I should go ahead and share our cast list. And this is one where everybody doubled, quite literally the announcer as well. Bob Sloan appeared in this. And then you have James McCallion, who played our intrepid Mr. Kodensky, Larry Haynes, Ruth Schaefer, Rita Ascot, Joan Alexander, Bill Smith, and Mandel Kramer. Of course, the episode does have a powerful message about why one shouldn't gossip. Although, even within the context of the episode, putting the onus on the gossipers as the cause of the detectives or the friendly officers' problem is a bit problematic because he clearly had some issues going on. And the same thing can kind of be read in between the lines about his wife leaving. This wasn't just sort of an out-of-the-blue one-off moment. Now, the actual story is a bit more grim than what we got on the radio version. This took place in December 1936. And again, here I quote from Dr. Joe Webb. A 73-year-old policeman in Duquesne was accused of molesting a 10-year-old girl. He got so angry about this that he went and killed all of the witnesses who were testifying against him. with a total of two men and three women, while also apparently attempting to kill the father of the girl as well as the girl's brother. And he was the oldest person electrocuted in Pennsylvania. And the name of the officer was Martin Sullivan. And this is probably the case that so far is the furthest from the actual facts. And we have a couple comments on Spotify regarding the deadline murder. Mechanic 66 writes, not a sympathetic victim. And Dr. Whodunit says, Adam Graham, newspaper man. The cop is going to enter a room. He tells you to hold his gun to cover him. What do you do? I suggest that he may want to consider getting his head examined. I am too clumsy and I just don't have the nerves to impromptu jump into a situation and back up a cop. I will say that probably to the degree that there is a certain element of truth to the stories about newspaper reporters got to be so closely involved in crimes, it's that a lot of these people could, in theory, take care of themselves. It would be the nature of the era. So, it's tough to imagine having a skill, which you don't have because you really don't need to have it. But if I were to make it as a big city crime reporter back then, I would have to be a somewhat different person than I am today. Thanks so much for the question. All right. Well, now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. And I want to go ahead and thank Daniel, Patreon supporter since October 2023, currently supporting the podcast at the master detective level of $15 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Daniel. And that will do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. and be sure to rate and review the podcast wherever you download it from. We'll be back next Tuesday with another episode of The Big Story, but join us back here tomorrow for Broadway's My Beat, where... Early bird out to catch a worm, huh, mister? Not me, not for something I've done. I never do anything bad. You, Edward Bishop? Oh, not me. Mr. Bishop's my roomie. He gone and done something naughty? Come in, mister, and tell me all about it. Where is he? Oh, out frying his nightly kettle to fish, I presume? His bed ain't been slept in. No? Huh? Oh, my, that hollow you see in the bedclothes is where I tried it. I'm an experimenter. Long as he wasn't in it, I thought my roomie's bed might be better than my own. It wasn't. Mr. Bishop's gone and done something naughty, huh? Do you know where he is? I want to tell you something about Mr. Bishop, my roomie. He's a tight-lipped man. Rockface, I call him, when he ain't looking. That's because he never whispers a secret to me or shares a Coke when I offer him part of mine. He just lets me dab his hanky with cologne sometimes when he's going out for a heavy evening. He had a lot of them, evenings like that? Well, for a man who has to shave twice a day, he has more than his share. You wouldn't know with whom. I might, but first you tell me what my roomie did to you. Maybe you'd find it cozier down at headquarters. Maybe that Japanese kimono you wear makes it look... You're getting rough. Hello there, mister. I'll tell you what I know, then you tell me what you know, huh? My roomie's been squiring a lady by the name of Anna Compton. You know her? Oh, just to talk to on the phone. That lovely voice. Haunts you. When did you talk to her last? Oh, two or three days ago. I'll tell you just how it was. She kept calling here evenings, asking my roomie to call her back. Just leave her name. Anna Compton. My roomie squiring a married lady. Bishop never shared anything with you, and still you... I'll tell you about that, too. Her haunting voice made me nervous. I told you I'm an experimenter. So one day I sat down with a phone book and called every Compton there is. Then a man answered and said his wife Anna wasn't home, who was calling. Of course I hung up. Then you know her address. In the New Rochelle phone book for everyone's eyes to see. Now it's your turn. What did Mr. Bishop do? A woman was found murdered in his car. My, oh, my. That's as naughty as you can get, ain't it? I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, do send your comments to box13 at greatdetectives.net. Follow us on Twitter, Radio Detectives. Check us out on Instagram, instagram.com slash greatdetectives. From Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham, signing off.