Even if you don’t know his name, chances are you know William Conrad’s (September 27, 1920 – February 11, 1994) voice.  You may know it from the jovial narrations of the adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle or the somber voice-over that followed Richard Kimble, The Fugitive.  Maybe you’ll recall his heavyset but still hard-nosed private eye Frank Cannon or the rascally courtroom antics of J.L. “Fatman” McCabe.   Or you may remember him as Matt Dillon, “the first man they look for and the last they want to meet,” on the old time radio classic Gunsmoke.  Audiences had ample opportunities to meet the actor in his five decades in show business. Conrad was born John William Cann, Jr. in Lexington, Kentucky on September 27, 1920.  He began a career in radio as an announcer and writer for a Los Angeles station before he entered the Air Force in World War II.  Like other radio professionals who were enlisted men, he worked with the Armed Forces Radio Service.  After the war, Conrad was in demand as a supporting radio player.  He could be heard in a variety of roles, with a seemingly endless variety of accents and characterizations, on shows like Escape, Suspense, The Man Called X, and The Adventures of Sam Spade.  Some believed he was heard a little too often, and perceived overexposure almost cost Conrad a shot at what would prove to be his biggest radio role. Producer-director Norman Macdonnell had been tasked by CBS President William Paley to develop a series that would be a “Philip Marlowe of the Old West.“  Paley was a big fan of Macdonnell’s The Adventures of Philip Marlowe starring Gerald Mohr, and wanted a show with a similar feel.  Up until that point, radio westerns were primarily kids’ stuff.  The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, and others rode the range in what amounted to little more than B-movie entertainment (no knock against those shows; it is thrilling to hear the Ranger and Tonto chase down bandits, but compelling drama it is not).  Just as Jack Webb brought grit and realism to the police drama with Dragnet, Macdonnell and scriptwriter John Meston saw an opportunity to revitalize the western.  When it came time to cast their lead of Matt Dillon, the US Marshal who tried to keep the peace in the “suburb of hell” known as Dodge City, Kansas - Meston pushed hard for William Conrad.  CBS had other ideas. Conrad recalled years later, “I think when they started casting for it, somebody said, ‘Good Christ, let’s not get Bill Conrad, we’re up to you-know-where with Bill Conrad.’  So they auditioned everybody, and as a last resort they called me.  And I went in and read about two lines…and the next day they called me and said, ‘Okay, you have the job.’” Gunsmoke premiered on April 26, 1952, with a powerful script involving Matt Dillon facing down a lynch mob.  The episode (listen to it here) erases any doubts as to whether William Conrad was the right choice for the role.  Backing him up every week was one of radio’s strongest regular casts.  Parley Baer was Dillon’s easygoing deputy Chester Proudfoot; Howard McNear was the wry Doc Addams; and Georgia Ellis was Kitty, the saloon owner (and, although it was never explicitly said on the show, prostitute) and Matt’s love interest.  Rounding out the supporting company every week was a repertory company of actors assembled by Macdonnell, including John Dehner, Larry Dobkin, and Harry Bartell. There were attempts to bring Gunsmoke to TV as early as 1953, and by 1955 CBS was ready to move ahead.  Conrad, Baer, Ellis, and McNear were given token auditions, but none were seriously considered to reprise their roles on the small screen.  Conrad never had a shot due to his growing obesity; the network believed viewers wouldn’t believe the short, heavy actor as the rugged hero, even though he effortlessly sold the role on radio.  Losing the role to James Arness left Conrad embittered.  He’d continue to work in radio until the end of network radio drama in 1962, and he went on to a career off-camera in television.  Conrad directed episodes of Have Gun - Will Travel, 77 Sunset Strip, and even the TV version of Gunsmoke.  He narrated the adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and the exploits of Richard Kimble on all 120 episodes of The Fugitive. A starring role on the small screen came at last in 1971 when Conrad starred as the titular character in Quinn Martin’s Cannon.  The private eye drama ran for five seasons and earned Conrad two Emmy Award nominations.  As hefty shamus Frank Cannon, Conrad gave TV one of its most memorable detectives, and Cannon’s adventures continue to air today in syndication.  His private eye credentials went back to 1950, when he filled in for an absent Gerald Mohr in the April 11, 1950 episode of The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. There was an attempt to revive Cannon with a 1980 TV movie, and the following year Conrad played Nero Wolfe in a short-lived series on NBC.  Following a well-received turn as a D.A. opposite Andy Griffith on Matlock, Conrad returned to the small screen in a starring role in 1987 with Jake and the Fatman.  Conrad played J.L. “Fatman” McCabe, a Los Angeles prosecutor who relied on investigator Jake Stiles (Joe Penny) to do his legwork (shades of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin again).  The show ran until 1992. Conrad passed away February 11, 1994 at the age of 73.  In 1997, he was posthumously inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.  With thousands of performances across dozens of shows, Conrad’s voice will live forever, wherever Rocky and Bullwinkle get into misadventures or whenever Matt Dillon is forced to draw his gun to keep the peace.

“I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble.” (Sam Spade, The Maltese Falcon) Dashiell Hammett wasn’t just a writer of detective fiction; he was a real-life detective who also happened to pen some of the greatest mystery novels of the 20th century. His mind and pen brought readers the rough and tumble Continental Op; the urbane and refined Nick and Nora Charles; and arguably the most famous private eye of them all, Sam Spade. Hammett’s tenure with the Pinkertons (including work on the infamous Fatty Arbuckle case) provided the DNA for Spade, a cynical shamus with his own moral code. He made his debut in 1929’s The Maltese Falcon and while he would appear in another three short stories penned by Hammett, the Falcon and its hunt for a legendary statuette are why Spade is best remembered. Of course, the classic film adaptation by John Huston and starring Humphrey Bogart as Spade didn’t hurt his reputation. The success of Bogart’s Maltese Falcon generated new interest in Hammett’s work in the 1940s. As stories were reprinted in hardcover and paperback, Hammett’s agent believed Spade’s exploits would be perfect for radio. By 1946, the wheels were in motion to bring the detective to the airwaves. The Adventures of Sam Spade was produced and directed by radio veteran William Spier, who also ran the show on CBS’ “outstanding theater of thrills,” Suspense. In fact, the audition program for Spade was a reworked Suspense script from two years earlier that originally starred Keenan Wynn. The scripts for that first season (including the audition) were written by an uncredited Jo Eisinger and Robert Tallman. The scriptwriters received no credit, as producers wanted to maintain the illusion that Hammett himself scripted the series. Hammett’s name was all over the program, but he had no direct involvement in the series. As he said, “My sole duty in regard to these programs is to look in the mail for a check once a week. I don’t even listen to them. If I did, I’d complain about how they were handled, and then I’d fall into the trap of being asked to come down and help.” ABC picked up The Adventures of Sam Spade for a thirteen-week summer run beginning on July 12, 1946. Actor Lloyd Nolan was set to star as Sam Spade, but a schedule conflict forced him to withdraw from the role at the last minute. (Nolan had just ended a run of B-movies for Fox as hard-boiled private eye Michael Shayne, and he would have made a fine Spade.) Former Armed Forces Radio Service announcer Howard Duff won the role of Spade with his audition, beating out radio veterans like Elliott Lewis. Spier was initially unimpressed with the actor, who was about as far from Bogart’s iconic portrayal as one could get, but Duff had a champion in Spier’s wife, Kay Thompson and she persuaded her husband to give Duff the role. Duff was ably supported each week by Lurene Tuttle in the role of Spade’s scatterbrained (but always loyal) secretary Effie Perrine, along with some of the best actors working on radio on the West Coast, including William Conrad, Joseph Kearns, Wally Maher, Jeanette Nolan, and John McIntire. Each week, Spade would dictate his case report to Effie for his client’s review. The fourth wall was often broken, with frequent references to the program itself. “Sam” and “Effie” often weighed in on the performances Duff and Tuttle gave in the dramatizations of “their” adventures. The series received rave notices in its first year, including an Edgar Award for best radio detective series. By September 1946, the show had moved to CBS, where it would remain until 1950. Robert Tallman continued as a writer, and Gil Doud stepped in to replace Jo Eisinger in 1947. With their scripts and Duff’s performance, Sam Spade was one of radio’s most popular shows. The sleuth even held his own against the powerhouse of Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy across the airwaves on NBC. The show was revived for a twenty four-week run on NBC on November 17, 1950 with Steven Dunne stepping in as Spade. Lurene Tuttle and William Spier returned from the original run, but there was conspicuously no mention of Dashiell Hammett to be found. Dunne was a fine Spade, but Howard Duff had made the role his own. As radio historian John Dunning noted, not even Humphrey Bogart could have succeeded Duff as Spade by 1950.The show kept a loyal following, but CBS grew wary of Hammett’s Communist affiliations (he had joined the Communist Party in the 1930s at the height of the New Deal). After the names of Hammett and Duff turned up in a pamphlet identifying Communists and their sympathizers, the show lost its sponsor (Wildroot Cream Oil) and September 1950 saw Howard Duff’s last performance as Spade. But before the Red Scare and timid sponsors did the show in, The Adventures of Sam Spade consistently delivered some of the best that radio had to offer. With Duff’s wry performance and the colorful characters invented by Tallman, Eisinger, and Doud, the show still holds up today as exciting mystery drama.

Known to generations of television audiences as Perry Mason, Raymond Burr (May 21, 1917 – September 12, 1993) found some of his earliest successes during the Golden Age of Radio. In a role far removed from the upstanding defense attorney he played on TV, Burr appeared as the thick-headed Inspector Hellman, a thorn in the side of Jack Webb’s Pat Novak For Hire. It was a performance closer to his screen work; Burr was known as a big screen heavy, and he memorably played the villainous neighbor Lars Thorwald in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Burr also popped up in supporting roles on Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, Richard Diamond, The CBS Radio Workshop, and more. But his highest-profile radio work came in Fort Laramie, where he starred as cavalry Captain Lee Quince. Burr’s Quince was a thoughtful, contemplative soldier - one who struggled with the harsh realities of his orders and who often rubbed his superiors the wrong way. He was working on Fort Laramie when he got the audition to play Mason. After he won the role, he arrived at a recording session and told co-stars Harry Bartell and Vic Perrin, "Men, we're all going to be rich!" Many of Burr's radio co-stars and fellow actors appeared on Perry Mason, including his Fort Laramie comrades in arms. After nine seasons and winning a pair of Emmys for his work as Mason, Raymond Burr embarked on an eight season run as another TV detective - wheelchair-bound Robert T. Ironside in Ironside. Burr returned to his signature role in 1985 for the highly-rated TV movie Perry Mason Returns, and he’d follow it up with 25 more Mason movies (and one Ironside reunion picture) before he passed away from cancer in 1993. In honor of his birthday, here are some of Raymond Burr's old time radio performances - roles that show off his versatility outside of Perry Mason's courtroom. "Father Leahy and Joe Feldman" - A priest puts Pat Novak (Jack Webb) on the trail of a man newly escaped from prison, and the search leads to murder on the San Francisco waterfront. Raymond Burr is on hand to menace Novak and muck things up as Inspector Hellman. (4/2/49) "The Henry J. Unger Matter" - In this Johnny Dollar adventure, the fabulous freelance insurance investigator (Edmond O'Brien) is menaced by the titular Mr. Unger, a convict out of jail and eager for revenge. Raymond Burr plays the calculating villain who successfully gets Dollar on trial for murder! (7/20/50) "The Hollywood Story" - Richard Diamond (Dick Powell) heads to the West Coast to take on a job for a powerful movie producer (Raymond Burr). The man's young girlfriend has threatened him with blackmail, but soon Diamond finds her dead and spots his client fleeing the scene. (8/23/53) "Playing Indian" - In the first episode of Fort Laramie, Burr's Captain Quince investigates when settlers are killed in what appears to be an attack by rogue Native Americans. But he soon suspects the culprits are disguising themselves and he sets a trap in a homesteader's cabin. (1/22/56) "Murder on Mike" - Burr is in full villain mode in this "tale well calculated to keep you in Suspense." He plays a writer of radio murder plays who's sick of the critical notes he receives from his director. Burr decides to stage the man's murder, and he records the entire thing for broadcast. (7/28/57)  

On May 16, 1942, radio listeners first heard the haunting tune of The Whistler. The anthology mystery series presented tales of murder narrated by “The Whistler,” an omniscient storyteller who boasted one of radio’s best introductions: “I am the Whistler, and I know many things for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.” Each episode of The Whistler followed a person’s descent into crime as they carried out what they believed to be a perfect murder, only to be undone in the final scene. As the announcers described it, “The Whistler” was “unique among all mystery programs, for even when you know who is guilty you always receive a startling surprise at the final curtain.” For most of the run, the Whistler was played by Bill Forman, but the storyteller was also voiced by Gale Gordon, Joseph Kearns, and Bill Johnstone. The casts included some of the best stars of West Coast radio, including Kearns, Hans Conried, William Conrad, Gerald Mohr, and Betty Lou Gerson. The radio series spawned a series of Columbia B-movies and ran on the West Coast until 1955. In honor of its anniversary, here are ten of my favorite strange stories by The Whistler. Final Return - A woman shapes her blue collar husband into a sharp politician, and he's on the eve of capturing the governor's mansion. But he's fallen in love with another woman. Will his political puppeteer leave the stage gracefully, or will she sacrifice everything to save the career she created? (10/29/45) Boomerang - This show is unique because the main character is never heard until the very end of the broadcast. Instead, we spend the show in the mind of a housewife who decides to use the panic caused by a serial killer to do away with her husband. Can she frame him as "The Door Bell Killer" and get away with murder? (3/11/46) Witness at the Fountain - One of the best final twists of the series undoes a murderer's perfect crime in this story starring Howard Duff. Radio's Sam Spade plays a blackmail victim who decides to do away with his tormentor, but he doesn't account for a silent witness. (9/9/46) Brief Pause for Murder - A long-suffering radio announcer decides to rid himself once and for all of his cheating wife. He concocts a perfect alibi; he'll record himself making his news announcements and play the record while he's committing the crime. What could possibly go wrong? (9/11/49) The Clever Mr. Farley - Gerald Mohr tries to pull off a con on a train when he meets a beautiful woman with a valuable bracelet. There are more twists and turns in this one than usual, and it all hinges on Mohr's character's pride in being able to read people. (11/27/49) Return with the Spray - The great Hans Conried plays a man engaged to be married who drunkenly ties the knot with another woman. He tries to kill her, but she survives the attempt and returns with a marriage license and a plan for blackmail. (4/23/50) Caesar's Wife - Gerald Mohr is back as a paranoid mob boss with a crippling fear. He's a hemophiliac and even the slightest bruise or cut could be fatal. As if that wasn't enough, he suspects his wife is having an affair with a mysterious stranger. (6/4/50) The Clock on the Tower - A man on death row is slated to meet his fate in a few hours unless his attorney can find a witness who can prove the man's innocence. This is a race against time with a fantastic twist ending. (12/10/50) His Own Reward - Perhaps the most unusual story presented on "The Whistler," the full details aren't revealed until the very end. It follows a man in dire financial straits who is persuaded to betray his country to a foreign rival for profit. (3/25/51) A Law of Physics - This twist was so good, it popped up on a 90s Columbo TV movie. An advertising executive plans to bump off a rival, and he uses the brand new device called a car phone to create an alibi. (6/10/51)

Orson Welles was already a celebrated theatrical producer, director, and star by the late 1930s. He financed his productions in part from his earnings as a radio character actor. But he became a household name when he stepped into the spotlight - or, to be more precise into the shadows when he was cast as Lamont Cranston, known to the underworld as The Shadow. The success of the series boosted Welles' popularity outside of the world of Broadway, and it helped to launch him into his own radio broadcast (The Mercury Theatre On the Air). Welles starred as the Shadow for two seasons - one sponsored by Blue Coal from the fall of 1937 until the spring of 1938, and the second syndicated by Goodrich Tires through that summer. For many of those episodes, Welles was joined by actors he'd work with in the theatre and would go on to work with on screen, particularly Agnes Moorehead (as "the lovely Margot Lane") and Ray Collins (as Commissioner Weston, the Shadow's uneasy ally in the police department). Welles left the role after this stint, but despite his short run he may be the actor most associated with the role today. In later years, The Shadow would evolve (or devolve, depending on your point of view) into more of a traditional detective series where the hero could turn himself invisible. The Welles broadcasts featured complex plots and a Shadow who could not only "cloud men's minds so they cannot see him." This Shadow could manipulate perception, create hallucinations, and he had no compunction about sending villains to their deaths. In honor of Orson Welles' birthday, here are ten of my favorite episodes from his run as radio's invisible avenger. The Temple Bells of Neban - Lamont Cranston receives a blast from the past as he investigates a drug ring running rampant in the city. A touring performer was a young girl in the temple where he learned how to cloud men's minds. Not only does she know his secret identity; she has powers of her own, and she wants the Shadow out of the way so she can enjoy the profits of her deadly drug trade. (October 24, 1937) Circle of Death - A mad bomber stalks the city, detonating explosives in the middle of crowded areas with no trace of how the bombs are delivered. As panic sweeps through town and Commissioner Weston faces pressure to resign, the Shadow sets a daring trap to identify the madman and end his wave of terror. (11/28/37) The Death Triangle - This one opens on Devil's Island as a whipped prisoner promises revenge on the men who betrayed his attempt to escape. Years later, a celebrated child surgeon (and former political prisoner of the island) has been targeted for death, and he asks the Shadow to save him from a long-simmering vengeance. (12/12/37) The Poison Death - People all over the city - old and young alike - are succumbing to mysterious poisonings. The police are baffled, and they're shocked when a note signed by the Shadow claims responsibility for the attacks. Lamont and Margot not only have to save the city from a deranged killer; they also need to clear the Shadow's name. (1/30/38) The Phantom Voice - The Shadow comes to the aid of an upstanding public servant on trial for accepting a bribe. The senator's fate seems certain when filmed evidence is played in court, but Lamont is unconvinced. He's sure a political fixer is behind it, and he discovers the clever plot set up to bring down an innocent man. (2/6/38) The Silent Avenger - This episode is surprising not only for its subject matter, but for the compassionate view it takes of the people involved. A killer is sentenced to die in the electric chair, and he enlists the aid of his brother - a World War I veteran sniper suffering debilitating PTSD ("shell shock") - to take vengeance on the jury that convicted him. The ace marksman carries out his brother's wishes as the Shadow races to stop him and hopefully get the man the help he desperately needs. (3/13/38) The White Legion - Orson Welles and co-star Agnes Moorehead make appearances out of character at the end of this episode - the finale of the first season sponsored by Blue Coal. Before we meet the people behind the Shadow and Margot Lane, there's a story of a political mob resorting to kidnapping and murder to advance their agenda in City Hall. (3/20/38) The Hypnotized Audience - To save his brother from a date with the electric chair, a celebrated dancer hypnotizes a theater of VIPs and abducts the governor. Only Lamont is immune from the effects of the mesmeric trance, and now it's up to the Shadow to save the governor before midnight. This episode and the next two on the list come from the syndicated summer season sponsored by Goodrich Tires. Most of the cast returned, but Agnes Moorehead was replaced by Margot Stevenson - the actress who inspired the name of the Shadow's friend and companion. Tenor with a Broken Voice - Lamont and Margot investigate a series of fatal "accidents" plaguing an opera house whenever Pagliacci is sung. Is anyone who steps onto the stage doomed, or will the Shadow uncover the secret and save the day? Murders in Wax - The capture of a notorious criminal is memorialized in wax at a city museum, but a killer is replacing the figures with the corpses of their real-life counterparts one by one. Commissioner Weston is slated as the next victim if the Shadow can't find the ghoulish murderer.

May the Fourth Be With You! It's one of the biggest Star Wars days in recent memory, with the success of The Mandalorian and the promise of even more stories from the galaxy on Disney Plus. When this date rolls around each year, I fire up my 4Ks (formerly Blu-rays, formerly DVDs, formerly multiple incarnations on VHS) and I revisit the Star Wars Radio Dramas. Yes. Star Wars on the radio. As a kid who was both discovering the world of old time radio and a rabid Star Wars fan, these shows were like manna from heaven when I first heard them in 1995. I first learned of them in a retrospective article in the glossy quarterly magazine published by the Lucasfilm Fan Club (I was a card carrying member ), and when they appeared in a catalog close to my birthday, it was the only thing I wanted. My parents got me cassette collections of Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I ran through those combined 23 episodes through middle and high school. The radio adaptation of Star Wars aired in between the theatrical releases of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. Coming to the airwaves at a time when American radio drama was all but extinct, this joint production of NPR and the BBC dramatized the first film in the Star Wars trilogy as a thirteen-part series. Not only did it feature several cast members recreating their roles - Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker and Anthony Daniels as C-3PO - but it also featured the classic sounds of the film (Chewbaca’s roar, R2-D2′s blips and beeps, the hum of TIE Fighters streaking through space) and John Williams’ fantastic score. Science fiction author Brian Daley expanded upon the film script - the plot of the movie proper doesn’t kick in until Episode 3 of the radio series. Episode 1 focuses on Luke Skywalker’s life on Tatooine as he watches the stars and dreams of life beyond the farm. Years before scenes were added in the Star Wars Special Edition, Brian Daley added scenes between Luke and his best friend Biggs Darklighter, an Imperial cadet who confides in Luke that he intends to join the rebellion against the Empire. These early scenes give their reunion later in the story more weight as they take part in the mission to destroy the Death Star. Episode 2 is all about Princess Leia. It establishes her espionage bona fides before she ever comes into possession of the plans for the Death Star. She uses an Imperial officer’s leering advances to her advantage and gets him to reveal the secrets of the Empire’s ultimate weapon. It isn’t just Luke and Leia who get additional shading. In another move that preceded the Special Edition, Daley adds a scene with Han Solo and a Tatooine mob boss in the hangar of the Millennium Falcon. It isn’t Jabba the Hutt but it plays almost exactly the same - and frankly, it plays better than the scene with a young Harrison Ford and a crudely rendered Jabba. Daley wrote three Han Solo novels, and he plugged in perfectly to the seedier side of the galaxy far, far away. It’s scenes like these that give the new actors a chance to put their own spin on the characters, an easier task when they don’t have to say the iconic lines of the film. Ann Sachs does a great job as Leia, and Perry King is charmingly roguish as Han Solo. And in a particularly inspired bit of casting, Brock Peters - miles from Tom Robinson - plays the dastardly Darth Vader. The Empire Strikes Back followed two years later with the whole cast returning plus Billy Dee Williams recreating his screen role of Lando Calrissian and John Lithgow taking the role of Yoda. He’s terrific - Lithgow doesn’t do a straight impression of Frank Oz, but he captures the character and injects him with additional shading. There’s less original material here - perhaps a testament to the wonderful screenplay penned by Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan? - but Brian Daley adds a nice prologue that finds a Rebel convoy cut to shreds by a TIE Fighter ambush. It helps to set the scene for the darker second act of the trilogy. The ten-part series is wonderful, and while some additional “new” scenes might have been nice to include, you really can’t go wrong with the story presented. Plans for a Return of the Jedi radio drama fell through and the final chapter wasn’t released until 1996, and even then it was produced by Highbridge Audio and not broadcast on NPR. This may adhere the closest to the film story, save for a nice scene where Luke Skywalker constructs his new lightsaber. Most of the cast is back, but Mark Hamill was sadly absent (though he was enjoying a second career as a voice actor - the farm boy from Tatooine was the Clown Prince of Crime in Batman: The Animated Series). Joshua Fardon does a fine job as Luke, but it would have been a treat to hear Hamill revisit his iconic role thirteen years later. John Lithgow comes back as Yoda, and Ed Asner growls his way through a performance as Jabba the Hutt. This six-part show suffers a bit in comparison to the first two chapters (as does the movie itself), but it’s still engrossing entertainment with all of the music and magic of Star Wars. I’ve been revisiting the series and it’s as much fun as it was when I first heard it as a kid. The entire trilogy is available in a great CD collection from Higbridge Audio. If you’re a fan of audio drama and/or a Star Wars fan, or if you are looking for a gateway to introduce someone to radio theater, check these shows out and take a trip to a galaxy far, far away.

One of radio’s finest dramas rode into town on April 26, 1952 with the premiere broadcast of Gunsmoke. The series was created at the request of CBS president William Paley who wanted a “Philip Marlowe in the old West.” After the idea kicked around without gaining any traction, producer/director Norman Macdonnell and writer John Meston developed their idea for a Western made for adults, without the simple “good guys vs. bad guys” feel of The Lone Ranger and other programs. Macdonnell and Meston created Gunsmoke, the story of US Marshal Matt Dillon - “the first man they look for and the last they want to meet.” Dillon wasn’t a white hat hero - he was a man trying to put his violent past behind him as he fought to keep the peace in Dodge City, Kansas. John Meston’s writing was hailed by producer/director Macdonnell, and Meston would go on to write 183 radio episodes and 196 television episodes of Gunsmoke. Meston was keen to avoid the traits of the stereotypical western hero in his depiction of Dillon, saying “Life and his enemies have left him looking a little beat-up. There’d have to be something wrong with him or he wouldn’t have been hired on as a United States marshal in the heyday of Dodge City, Kansas.” William Conrad won the role of Dillon, and he gave the character a weary humor but an absolute fury when needed. Supporting Conrad was one of radio’s greatest supporting casts. Parley Baer was Chester Proudfoot, Dillon’s amiable deputy. Howard McNear was “Doc” Adams, the town physician with a ghoulish demeanor (and, as one episode revealed, a past in Richmond, Virginia involving a duel with a romantic rival). Georgia Ellis was Kitty Russell, proprietor of Dodge’s Long Branch Saloon, as well as a friend, confidant, and lover of Matt Dillon. The relationship between Kitty and William Conrad’s Matt Dillon was a key component of the show. Though her true profession was never explicitly stated on the show, in a 1953 interview, producer/director Norman Madconnell said “Kitty is just someone Matt has to visit every once in a while. We never say it, but Kitty is a prostitute, plain and simple.“ But their relationship was more than what it appeared to be. As Ellis herself said "There was no forgiveness to be given because I don’t think Kitty was available to anybody but Matt.” Supporting roles were filled out by some of the best actors in Hollywood radio, many of whom had worked with Macdonnell in other shows like Escape and Philip Marlowe - John Dehner, Larry Dobkin, Harry Bartell, Vivi Janiss, Jeanette Nolan, and more. The landscape of Dodge City and its saloons and jail cells was created by Ray Kemper. Kemper’s sounds were as essential a part of that program’s success as the acting and the writing. Dodge City came to life with the sounds generated by Kemper and his effects team. To create the sound of a beer being poured at the Long Branch Saloon, a warm can of soda was used. Old microphone cable was twisted together to make the sound of a man mounting his saddle. The sound men are often the unsung heroes of old time radio, and Ray Kemper was one of the finest. The series presented the grim realities of the west - sickness, death, loneliness - more than any program that came before. Matt Dillon wasn’t an infallible hero; he struggled with doubt and disillusionment, and he didn’t always get his man. the series paved the way for the new genre of mature Westerns on radio, and it spawned a television adaptation that ran for twenty seasons on CBS. The radio cast lobbied to reprise their roles, but the core characters were recast; even Norman Macdonnell was initially passed over for the TV show; he eventually came on board in 1956, and he guided the program to the number one rating from 1957 until 1961. Today, the radio Gunsmoke (which ran from 1952 to 1961) stands as one of the best dramatic programs from the Golden Age of Radio.

On April 24, 1955, X Minus One premiered on NBC and launched a new wave of adult science fiction stories on the air. A continuation of sorts of NBC's earlier sci-fi anthology Dimension X, X Minus One dramatized stories from the giants of the genre along with original radio plays. The show's first 15 episodes were new productions of shows from Dimension X, but it soon expanded to more stories that had never been aired on radio. A bright spot of late 1950s radio drama, X Minus One aired over 120 episodes until it left radio in 1958. Here are my five favorite "adventures in which you'll live in a million could-be years on a thousand may-be worlds" from X Minus One. "Mars is Heaven" - The first astronauts to land on Mars make a remarkable discovery; their dead loved ones are alive and well on the red planet. Is Mars heaven? Ray Bradbury's classic story makes for excellent radio. (5/8/55) "Cold Equations" - A pilot is faced with a horrible decision when a young woman stows away on his supply ship to make a surprise visit to her husband. It seems like a harmless lark, but the ship only has enough fuel for the pilot and its cargo - not for the extra passenger. (8/25/55) "Time and Time Again" - A soldier grievously wounded in battle is suddenly transported back to his 13th birthday, but with all of his memories of the devastating war that lies ahead. Can he use his knowledge of the future to save the world? (1/11/56) "Skulking Permit" - This darkly comedic story is set on a planet awaiting arrival of a representative from Earth. When they learn how violent Earth can be, they decide to introduce crime to their society to make their visitor more at home. (2/15/56) "A Gun for Dinosaur" - In the future, safaris can bring hunters millions of years into the past to hunt dinosaurs. But one arrogant client puts his guide and the entire hunting party in jeopardy in this precursor to the dino thrills of "Jurassic Park." (3/7/56)

“I was sitting in my office shooting paper clips at a King size horse fly. It was a little sadistic but he was bigger than I was. Well, about the time I had him down on his knees begging for mercy, the door opened…”  There’s nothing in Dick Powell’s early career to suggest he was destined to play hard-boiled private eyes.  Had his bosses at Warner Brothers had their way, he’d have stayed in the song-and-dance roles on which he built his career.  But thanks to a gamble by a director, Powell kicked off a new chapter to his career and the result were some great radio shows, including one of the medium’s best - Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Powell got his start in Hollywood in the 30s as a singer in Warner Brothers musicals, including 42nd Street, and On the Avenue.  He was frequently cast in the role of a boyish crooner, even as he approached his 40s.  Despite his success, Powell was eager to expand into other roles.  His efforts were resisted by Warner Brothers, who wanted to keep Powell right where he was, even if he thought it was the wrong place to be.  He pursued the lead role in Double Indemnity, but it ultimately went to another actor pegged in “nice guy” roles - Fred MacMurray. But later in 1944, RKO and director Edward Dmytryk gave Powell the role he’d been waiting for - Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, the film adaptation of the Marlowe novel Farewell, My Lovely.  The film was a success, and Powell received rave reviews for his performance.  In a flash, he had shed the crooner image he’d been desperate to shake and he embarked on the next stage of his career. Powell recreated his role as Marlowe on the June 11, 1945 Lux Radio Theater broadcast of Murder, My Sweet, and he starred as private detective Richard Rogue in Rogue’s Gallery from 1945 to 1946.  While it was a fine series, it failed to stand out from the crowd of hard-boiled private eyes littering the airwaves in the postwar years.  For his next radio effort, Powell wanted to “make something a little bit different of a standard vehicle.”  He recorded an audition show as “the man with the action packed expense account,” Johnny Dollar, but he passed on the series for a show that sprang from the mind of Blake Edwards.  Edwards would later create the outstanding police procedural The Line-Up for radio, develop Peter Gunn for television, and would become a celebrated writer and director of film arguably most famous for the Pink Panther film series with Peter Sellers. Powell and his producer, Don Sharp, asked Edwards if he had any ideas for a vehicle for Powell.  Edwards said he did (a lie), and went home to write what would become the pilot for Richard Diamond, Private Detective.  In Edwards’ original script, Diamond was a former OSS agent; he would evolve into an ex-cop.  One trait he would retain as the script evolved was that Diamond was as quick with a quip as he was with his fists.  This played to Powell’s natural comedic strengths, and it helped to give the show a unique voice in the sea of detective programs from the era.  Unlike other radio shamuses, Diamond would keep up a friendly relationship with his old colleagues on the force - Lt. Walt Levinson, his former partner; and the oafish Sgt. Otis Ludlum, the long-suffering butt of Diamond’s jokes.  Diamond flirted with every skirt that came through his office door, but he only had eyes for his Park Avenue girlfriend, Helen Asher.  Shows would often close at her apartment, where Diamond would sum up his case and (in a nod to Powell’s old career) Helen might coax him to do a little singing. Richard Diamond, Private Detective premiered on NBC on April 24, 1949.  Powell was supported by Virginia Gregg as Helen; Ed Begley as Levinson; and Wilms Herbert doing double duty as Sgt. Otis and as Helen’s butler, Francis.  Joseph Kearns, Peggy Webber, Bill Johnstone, Jack Kruschen, and other West Coast actors filled out the cast.  Later in the show’s run, Frances Robinson would take over the role of Helen, and Ted de Corsia, Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer Fudd), and Alan Reed (Fred Flinstone) would rotate in and out as Levinson. The show ran without a sponsor for the first year before being picked up by the Rexall Drug Company (“Good health to all from Rexall!”) in June 1950.  In January 1951, the show switched networks and picked up Camel cigarettes as its new sponsor.  The show took its final bow on June 27, 1952 (although repeats popped up in the summer of 1953).  Powell pulled the plug on the show as he entered a third phase of his career as a successful director and producer. It was in this capacity that Powell brought Richard Diamond to television in 1957 for a four-season run starring David Janssen in the title role, minus the crooning of the radio series.  Janssen would later star as Dr. Richard Kimble on The Fugitive.  The Diamond TV show is perhaps best known today for its character of Diamond’s secretary, Sam, who was only shown from the waist down to show off her legs.  The first actress to furnish Sam’s legs was a young Mary Tyler Moore. In honor of his anniversary, here are ten of my favorite Richard Diamond radio adventures. Sit back and enjoy some sleuthing and singing with Dick Powell and company in these sensational stories. "The Lillian Baker Case" - This one is a good showcase for Diamond's girlfriend Helen Asher, who gets to take a rare role in the case of the week. At a department store, Helen witnesses an elderly woman shoplifting. It turns out she's a wealthy eccentric, and later that afternoon she dies - allegedly after leaping from her balcony. (9/3/49) "The Jerome J. Jerome Case" - Joseph Kearns plays the titular eccentric character - a man who claims to be a millionaire, a genius inventor, and a private detective. He wants to partner with Diamond, but as soon as the gumshoe tries to dismiss him it turns out the kook may have information about an actual murder. (9/17/49) "The Louis Spence Case" - An unusual, but very exciting, episode finds Diamond racing against time to save his old friend Lt. Walt Levinson. A deranged bomber has escaped from prison, and he's taken the lieutenant hostage. Unless the mayor jumps to his death from city hall within the hour, the bomber will blow the precinct - and Walt - to kingdom come. (3/5/50) "The Statue of Kali" - It's Richard Diamond's version of The Maltese Falcon (complete with Paul Frees doing his best Sydney Greenstreet). An ivory statue is delivered to Diamond by a dying man, and it's being hunted by nefarious characters from all around the world. (4/5/50) "The Martha Campbell Kidnap Case" - Diamond is hired to deliver the ransom when a wealthy woman is kidnapped, but both he and the lady's nephew are knocked out, the ransom money is taken, and the kidnap victim is killed. Rick has to use some creativity and theatricality to figure out what happened. (7/26/50) "The Oklahoma Cowboy Murder Case" - Diamond trades the bright lights of the big city for the clear skies of the plains in this episode that was later adapted as an episode of Peter Gunn. Rick heads west to investigate a suspicious death - a wealthy rancher who expired when he fell from his horse. (9/27/50) "The Cover-Up Murders" - Rick and Walt partner again when a serial killer stalks the city. Part of his MO is to call the police and boast that he'll kill someone that night at eight o'clock. But what appears to be random madness may have a clear motive, and it's up to Diamond to stop the killings before more bodies drop. (11/22/50) "Blue Serge Suit" - Jim Backus (later Mr. Howell on Gilligan's Island) is Diamond's new client - a tailor whose supply of blue serge is raided and stolen by intruders. When Diamond's own suit is snatched, he's on the trail of a gang of spies. (2/9/51) "Lady in Distress" - A beautiful woman hires Diamond, and then she drops dead in his office. With nothing to go on - he didn't even know her name - Rick takes the case and tries to learn what had her so scared and what led to her death. It's a story that was recycled quite a few times. Jeff Regan and Johnny Dollar both solved variations of this script, but the Richard Diamond version is my favorite. (2/23/51) "The Red Rose" - In another story later reworked as a TV episode of Peter Gunn, Diamond is hired to keep a client alive. The man hired a hit man to do away with himself, but he's had a change of heart. Unfortunately, the hit man is a committed professional and he intends to finish the job. (3/2/51)

For multiple generations of kids - those who listened on radio and saw the theatrical cartoons and later those who tuned in for the Filmation TV series - Joan Alexander (April 16, 1915 – May 21, 2009) was the voice of Lois Lane. Born April 16, 1915, she was a model and an actress touring with the Yiddish theater before she got into radio. Her birth name was Louise Abrass; she took the first name Joan after big screen star Joan Crawford. Joan Alexander worked extensively on the air with major roles on several daytime soaps like Lone Journey, Light of the World and This Is Nora Drake. She was in the “girl Friday” business for a pair of radio detectives as Della Street on Perry Mason and Ellen Deering, secretary to Jackson Beck’s Philo Vance. Elsewhere, she could be heard on Dimension X, Crime Club, Barrie Craig, and more. But it’s the role of Lois Lane, tough, resourceful reporter, for which Joan Alexander is best remembered. She was the third actress to play the role, but she was cast early in the run and made the part her own. Alexander would co-star with Clayton “Bud” Collyer (voice of Clark Kent and Superman) in over 1,600 radio episodes. The two also voiced their characters in the popular (and still riveting, even today) Superman cartoons produced by Fleischer Studios and released theatrically. From 1940 until 1951, Joan Alexander gave voice to one of the most well-known comic book characters of all time, and she helped to cement the character of Lois as a heroine in her own right. Almost every subsequent portrayal of the star reporter owes something to Alexander’s performance. Bud Collyer loved working with her, telling a reporter that “Joan is one of those rare actresses – especially in radio where you can’t be seen and have to depend entirely on voice – who can go in on something cold and her instincts are so right as an actress that without even a rehearsal or a read-through, she is right.“ The two reunited in 1966 as Lois and Clark in The New Adventures of Superman, an animated Saturday morning series produced by Filmation.

The idea of the gentleman detective conjures up images of smoking jackets and walking sticks: characters like Philo Vance who were as handsome as they were insightful. Captain Hugh Drummond broke that mold. Created by H.C. McNeile, the detective and adventurer is a powerfully built hulk of a man with a face that led to his nickname - “Bulldog.” A veteran of World War I, Drummond was a crack shot, good with his fists, talented at poker, and hungry for thrills and excitement. He became one of the most popular sleuths of early Hollywood and the success he enjoyed led to a stint fighting evildoers on the radio - a stint that began on April 13, 1941. McNeile introduced Drummond first in a story in The Strand. He later reworked the character for a 1920 novel. Like George Valentine, Drummond found post-war life to be dull and took out an advertisement in search of adventure wherever it could be found. His ad memorably read: “Demobilised [sic] officer, finding peace incredibly tedious, would welcome diversion. Legitimate, if possible; but crime, if of a comparatively humorous description, no objection. Excitement essential.” The ad is answered by a young woman concerned for her father’s safety, and she leads Drummond to a Communist plot to take over England. His client, Phyllis Benton, became Mrs. Drummond, and the mastermind of the plot, Carl Peterson, became Bulldog’s arch nemesis. McNeile went on to write ten Drummond novels, five short stories, and three plays before his death in 1937. McNeile’s friend Gerald Fairlie picked up the mantle and wrote an additional seven Drummond novels between 1937 and 1957. The character proved very popular in England and influential to boot: Ian Fleming stated that James Bond was Bulldog Drummond from the waist up and Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer below. After two silent films in the early 1920s, Bulldog Drummond was released as a talkie in 1929. Ronald Colman earned an Academy Award nomination for his portrayal of Drummond (years before he’d take home an Oscar for A Double Life), and the film was hailed by critics. Colman’s portrayal of Drummond as debonair and dashing eventually supplanted the rougher around the edges character of McNeile’s books; the subsequent films (including a second turn by Colman in 1934) continued the characterization of Drummond as a more sophisticated gentleman adventurer. Ray Milland, another future Oscar-winner, starred in 1937’s Bulldog Drummond Escapes before John Howard made the role his own in seven B-movies for Paramount. It was the success of the film series that spurred interest in a radio series. Producer Hiram Brown (Inner Sanctum Mysteries, as well as another series about a dapper British sleuth - The Private Files of Rex Saunders) packaged the series. Captain Drummond came to radio in 1941 and was originally played by George Coulouris. Coulouris was a veteran of Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre and he’d appeared with Welles in Citizen Kane. He starred as Drummond until March 1942 when he was succeeded by Santos Ortega. Ortega was a busy radio character actor; he played Inspector Queen on Ellery Queen, Commissioner Weston on The Shadow, and was also heard as Charlie Chan and in supporting roles on The Adventures of Superman, usually in villainous roles. Ortega stayed with the series for a year, and his replacement was another actor with a track record at radio crime-solving. Ned Wever stepped into Bulldog Drummond’s shoes with the March 15, 1943 broadcast and he stayed with the show until 1949. Wever was a regular player on The Adventures of Superman; he played Jor-El in the series’ premiere episode and he appeared as “The Wolf,” the first villain the Man of Steel encountered on radio. Coincidentally, in another early serial, he and fellow radio Bulldog Santos Ortega played crooked mine owners who swindled their investors. Later, he played a Nazi agent (more than slightly inspired by Sydney Greenstreet’s Kasper Gutman) during the program’s memorable “Atom Man” story arc. On the right side of the law, he played Dick Tracy on radio, and his clipped, authoritative delivery was perfect for the dapper British gentleman detective as he’d been reinvented on screen and on the radio. The McNeile novels had introduced the character of James Denny, Drummond’s wartime batman and landlord of Drummond’s apartment building. Denny made the jump to radio, where he was reworked as Drummond’s valet and sidekick. Everett Sloane (another Mercury Theatre veteran) played Denny for much of the series, alongside Coulouris, Ortega, and Wever. The supporting casts included several great radio actors, including Jackson Beck (Philo Vance) and Mercedes McCambridge (Defense Attorney). In his radio adventures, Bulldog Drummond tackled all manner of crimes - hijackers, atomic spies, gangsters, and killers all went up against the poised captain…and lost. Despite the character’s popularity at the time (the radio series ran until 1954, with Cedric Hardwicke in the role for the final year), Bulldog Drummond has been left behind by popular culture. Aside from a brief James Bond-inspired revival in the late 1960s, the character remains a war-years relic. It’s too bad; the B-movies (many of them available on public domain collections of mystery films) are enjoyable romps, and the radio series is a good listen. Hopefully you’ll enjoy rediscovering Bulldog Drummond or meeting him for the first time as he steps out of the fog.

“Calling Nick Carter!  Another case for Nick Carter, Master Detective.  Yes, it’s another case for that most famous of all manhunters, the detective whose ability at solving crimes is unequaled in the history of detective fiction - Nick Carter, Master Detective!” In 1886, readers were introduced to a brilliant detective, a master of both disguise and deduction, who tackled the cases that baffled the police.  Think you know who it is?  If you guessed Sherlock Holmes, you’re a year too early.  Arthur Conan Doyle’s first Holmes adventure was published in 1887, one year after the debut of Nick Carter, a character who went from dime novels to pulp magazines, and then to film and later radio.  Though not as well known today, Nick Carter enjoyed a long career as one of America’s most celebrated detectives, and his run on the air began on April 11, 1943. Carter’s first adventure was “The Old Detective’s Pupil,” which appeared in the September 18, 1886 issue of Street & Smith’s New York Weekly.  Street & Smith were one of the largest publishers of dime novels in the country; in fact, the plot of the first Nick Carter story was dreamed up by Ormond G. Smith, son of one of the magazine’s founders.  Writer John Russell Coryell wrote the story and two more before he decided there was more money in writing romances.  The character was turned over to writer Frederick Rensselaer Dey, who penned a Carter novel (25,000 words) each week for seventeen years.  Carter became so popular that Street & Smith launched a separate magazine devoted to his exploits. Nick Carter was a clean-cut, teetotaling, private detective.  He had an encyclopedic knowledge of the world and possessed almost superhuman strength; he could “lift a horse with ease…while a heavy man is seated in the saddle.“  Nick had been groomed for the gumshoe game from birth by his father, a famous detective named “Old Sim” Carter.  Based in a ritzy New York apartment, Nick’s cases would take him all around the world.  And he was famous all over the world, too.  In 1908, the first of three Nick Carter film serials hit French movie screens, with sequels following in 1909 and 1912. By 1915, the solo Nick Carter magazine had folded, but the character continued to make appearances in Street & Smith’s Detective Story Magazine.  Later, after the company found pulp novel success with the exploits of The Shadow and others, Nick Carter was back in his own pulp magazine.  In 1939, Hollywood came calling (albeit several years after French film producers), and Walter Pidgeon starred as Nick in three movies from MGM. When the character came to radio in 1943, it was in The Return of Nick Carter.  Those early shows tipped their hat to the character’s pulp origins with subtitled adventures (for example, “Murder in the Crypt…or Nick Carter and the Jackal God”).  Actor Lon Clark, a former opera singer, took the role of Nick and kept it until the series left the air in 1955.  His 12 years as Nick Carter are bested only by Bennett Kipack’s 13 years as Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.  On radio, Carter was presented in the clean-cut mold from the pulps.  He had a fancy brownstone house with a crime lab and shooting range in the basement where he’d work out cases with his friends and colleagues Patsy Bowen and reporter “Scubby” Wilson.  They’d be called in, sometimes relcutantly, by Sgt. Mathison (affectionately known as “Matty” to Nick) on tough crimes that left the NYPD stumped. Clark was supported by Helen Choate (a former radio Lois Lane) and later Charlotte Manson as Patsy.  Ed Latimer provided the thick Irish brogue for Matty for much of the series.  Scripts came from Walter B. Gibson, who wrote the pulp novels and fleshed out the history of Carter’s Street & Smith stablemate, The Shadow.  Other writers on the show were Edith Meiser, who contributed scripts for Sherlock Holmes, and sci-fi author Alfred Bester.  Walter Gibson also worked on the series’ short-lived spin-off Chick Carter, Boy Detective (Chick was Nick’s adopted son who followed in the family business). The show, later retitled Nick Carter, Master Detective, aired on the Mutual Network until September 25, 1955 - outlasting several of the better known gumshoes of the Golden Age of Radio.  When the radio series ended, Carter didn’t hang up his badge and gun.  He was resurrected in the 1960s as a James Bondian secret agent in over 200 Nick Carter - Killmaster novels.  In 1972, Robert Conrad, late of The Wild Wild West, starred as Carter in a turn of the century mystery set in the Victorian Era that would have served as a pilot for a new series.  Unfortunately, this didn’t get picked up, but Nick Carter is still kicking over a century after he first appeared in print.  His mix of brains and derring-do, with a healthy dose of pulp heroics, are well worth rediscovering or enjoying for the first time.

Some radio detectives originated in the pages of novels and short stories, while others transitioned from the big screen to the airwaves.  In the case of The Falcon, it was a little of each as two different characters were blended into one of radio’s longest-running sleuths. The exploits of the gumshoe first came to radio on April 10, 1943. The first Falcon was introduced by Drexel Drake in a 1936 novel The Falcon’s Prey.  Drake’s Falcon, featured in multiple novels and stories, was Malcolm Wingate, a shadowy crime-fighter and Robin Hood figure born in America but raised in England.  Aided by an ex-cop nicknamed “Sarge,” the Falcon preyed on evildoers and came to the aid of the oppressed. Drake’s Falcon predated Gay Stanhorpe Falcon, a freelance adventurer created by Michael Arlen in his 1940 short story “The Gay Falcon.”  It was this Falcon who came to the big screen in 1941 with George Sanders (fresh off a movie run as The Saint) starring as the character.  As if that wasn’t complicated enough, the movie (and its sequels) changed the character’s name to Gay Lawrence, with no explanation of how he earned the name “The Falcon.”  The Falcon of the films began as a replacement for The Saint at RKO, but he evolved into more of a classic private detective.  In fact, his third movie, The Falcon Takes Over (1942), was an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely with The Falcon subbing in for Philip Marlowe.  After four movies, Sanders had enough and his real-life brother Tom Conway took over the franchise as “Tom Lawrence” in The Falcon’s Brother, and played the role for eight more movies. The success of the films led to a radio version in 1943.  The Falcon of the radio was a private eye named Michael Waring, neither the Drake character nor the Arlen character.  The radio series referred to the Falcon’s past in novels and in films, and Drexel Drake was credited as the character’s creator on the air.  Just to add another wrinkle to the genealogy of the character, the Waring Falcon hit the big screen in three films starring John Calvert. Berry Kroger was the first actor to play Waring on the air, and he was succeeded by James Meighan.  For the bulk of the run, The Falcon was played by Les Tremayne and Les Damon.  The actors shared several roles along with their first name; in addition to The Falcon, they each took a turn starring as Nick Charles in The Adventures of The Thin Man.  George Petrie, who played radio private eye Charlie Wild and District Attorney Markham on Philo Vance, was the last actor to play The Falcon on the air. Most of the shows began with The Falcon answering a phone call from one of his many lovely female companions.  He’d politely decline their company for the evening before offering a tease of the adventure he was about to undertake.  Like his radio private eye brethren, Waring’s cases were about equally divided between clients seeking his help and the police calling him in on tough-to-crack cases.  In the early 1950s, owing to the popularity of espionage programs, The Falcon became an intelligence agent for the US Government.  His work took him overseas where he battled enemy spies with the same skills he used on gangsters back in the Big Apple. Despite the long run of the program (The Falcon aired from 1943 until 1954 in multiple runs over NBC and Mutual), only about 100 episodes survive.  Most of them come from the Tremayne/Damon years, so listeners today can hear a mix of Falcon adventures both foreign and domestic.  With his mix of hard-boiled private eye and suave gentleman adventurer, The Falcon is a great character with whom to spend an evening.

“I rarely leave my house. I do like it here. I would be an idiot to leave this chair, made to fit me.” (Rex Stout, Before I Die) Nero Wolfe made his first appearance in 1934, and his adventures are still being enjoyed nearly eighty years later in books, TV shows, and - beginning on April 10, 1943 - radio dramas.  Not bad for a man who hated leaving his house more than nearly anything in the world. Wolfe, the eccentric genius who weighs a seventh of a ton, was created by writer Rex Stout.  Stout made a tidy sum inventing a system to track the money school children saved in their accounts, and he used his earnings and royalties to travel the world and embark on a career as a writer.  His first Wolfe novel, Fer-de-Lance, was published in 1934, and Stout would go on to write 33 novels and 39 stories featuring Wolfe until his death in 1975.  Over the course of the novels and stories, Stout fleshed out the character, who enjoyed fine food and good beer, tended to his orchids, and solved mysteries when he had to earn a fee, always with the aid of his assistant (and the narrator of the stories), Archie Goodwin. Stout’s brilliant stroke was to combine two archetypes of detective fiction into one duo.  Nero Wolfe was a classic refined detective in the mold of Sherlock Holmes, right down to his eccentricities, anti-social personality, and acute agoraphobia.  He could listen to clues as they were presented to him in his drawing room and deduce the solution to a crime without ever leaving the chair especially designed for his massive weight.  At his side was Archie, a more streetwise sleuth in the mold of (though not nearly as hard-boiled) Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe.  Archie carried a gun and had an eye for a blonde like his brethren, but he drank milk instead of bourbon and he had a playful demeanor - particularly with his boss and their frequent foil on the police force, Inspector Cramer. Wolfe came to the screen in 1934 and 1937, but it would take almost ten years for the character to make his radio debut.  From 1943 to 1944, ABC aired The Adventures of Nero Wolfe which starred J.B. Williams, Santos Ortega, and Luis Van Rooten as Wolfe during various points in the run.  A falling out between ABC and Stout’s representatives prevented the series from continuing, but a new version would premier on the Mutual Network in 1946.  Francis X. Bushman starred as Wolfe, with Elliott Lewis, a veteran radio actor who would soon take the director’s chair on Suspense, as Archie.   But it is the 1950 NBC series The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe that is most fondly remembered and which came the closest to capturing the essence of Stout’s stories.  First and foremost, they found an actor who could fully embody Wolfe’s larger than life persona - Sydney Greenstreet. A longtime theater actor, Greenstreet’s big break came as Kasper Gutman (“The Fat Man”) opposite Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon in 1941 at age 62. After receiving an Academy Award nomination for the role, Greenstreet appeared in films like Casablanca, The Mask of Demetrios, and Across the Pacific.  At age 71, he was cast as Wolfe, and his trademark characteristics - arched speech, droll laugh, deliberate intonation - perfectly fit Nero Wolfe’s larger than life personality. Over the course of the series, no fewer than six actors were heard as Archie Goodwin. Each of the first three episodes featured a different Archie: Wally Maher (October 20); Lamont Johnson (October 27); and Herb Ellis (November 10). Beginning on November 24, actor Larry Dobkin assumed the role.  Dobkin had previously been heard as Louie the cab driver on The Saint and as Detective Lt. Matthews on The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.  After eight episodes, Dobkin left and his old co-star Gerald Mohr voiced Goodwin for the next four episodes. Mohr was on a radio detective roll; he had just wrapped his two-year run as Marlowe and would return for a Marlowe summer series a few months after his gig as Archie came to a close.  Harry Bartell, a veteran of Escape and Dragnet as well as the Petri Wine announcer for The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, stepped into Archie’s shoes for the final ten episodes of the series. Why so many Archies to one Nero?  There’s no definite answer.  Some have said it was because Greenstreet was difficult to work with; others speculate the revolving door of co-stars was a sign of retooling to see if the ratings would improve. And while the series was well done, with even Rex Stout praising Greenstreet’s performance (he was less complimentary of the program itself), it did not fare well enough in the ratings to earn a second year.  The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe wrapped up its run on April 27, 1951.  Fortunately for fans, the entire series run are available in great condition.  One can listen to the full run and hear Greenstreet lend his one-of-a-kind voice to Wolfe, and even with so many actors playing Archie Goodwin, none is sub-par.  Each brings his own style to the character while staying true to Stout’s creation.  And backing up Greenstreet and his Goodwins every week are a great cast, including Bill Johnstone as Inspector Cramer, Howard McNear, Betty Lou Gerson, Peter Leeds, and Barney Phillips. Since the radio era came to an end, Nero Wolfe has continued to entertain fans outside of the books. Several TV shows have aired, including one single-season program starring radio veteran William Conrad as Wolfe and an absolutely delightful but criminally short-lived production on A&E with Timothy Hutton as Archie and Maury Chaykin as Wolfe. And for fans who want more audio adventures of the pair, the CBC mounted an impressive series of adaptations in 1982.

“Adventures in time and space…told in future tense!” Dimension X, one of radio’s first and best “adult” science fiction programs, premiered on NBC on April 8, 1950. The series presented a mix of original stories as well as adaptations of works by masters of the genre like Robert Heinlein, Kurt Vonnegut, and Ray Bradbury. It was this collection of adaptations that gave Dimension X a boost in credibility with science fiction fans; earlier shows had consisted entirely of original radio plays. With radio creative talents like George Lefferts and Ernest Kinoy and New York radio actors like Wendell Holmes, Santos Ortega, Arnold Moss, Joe Julian, and Joan Alexander, Dimension X presented high-quality stories that helped to bring science fiction out of the realm of kids’ entertainment, and it helped to pave the way for more sophisticated sci-fi on radio and later television. Fortunately for fans of these tales of tomorrow, all 50 episodes of Dimension X survive to be enjoyed today. Here are a few of my favorites… “The Outer Limit” - The one that started it all! This adaptation of Graham Doar’s short story centers on a test pilot who vanishes in his experimental aircraft only to return with a dire warning from beyond the stars. (4/8/1950) "Knock" - "The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door." With that incredible opening, we're off on Frederic Brown's story of the survivor of an alien apocalypse and his unusual relationship with his otherworldly captors. (5/6/50) “A Logic Named Joe” - Based on a story by Murray Lennister, this one predates/predicts smartphone technology with “Logics.” These supercomputers can answer any question, but when they start advising on how to get away with murder it falls to one engineer to save the world. (7/1/1950) “Mars is Heaven” - Ray Bradbury’s classic story was adapted several times for many different radio shows, but the Dimension X version is my favorite. The astronauts on the first mission to Mars are shocked to find the red planet is full of their deceased friends and family members. Is Mars really heaven? (7/7/1950) “The Martian Chronicles” - More from Ray Bradbury, this collection of vignettes contains comedy, romance, tragedy, and at the end a glimmer of hope as we follow several people who leave Earth behind for life on Mars. (8/18/1950) “The Roads Must Roll” - This story from Robert Heinlein tells of a future where mechanized roads haul people and goods across the country. When a deadly strike among the engineers threatens to derail the roads and threaten the stability of the nation, it falls to a handful of heroes to keep the roads rolling. (9/1/50)

Is there anybody who doesn’t know Dragnet?  Even if you don’t know the series or couldn’t pick Sgt. Joe Friday out of a line-up, chances are you know the distinct “dum-da-dum-dum” opening. Like the eerie sounds of the theme to The Twilight Zone, the opening notes of the Dragnet march have become shorthand for someone in trouble about to get busted, or the arrival of an authority figure on the scene. This writer discovered the taut police series in between Get Smart and The Dick Van Dyke Show on Nick at Nite in the early nineties, and it wasn’t until years later that he discovered the radio series. It’s hard for modern audiences to appreciate just how revolutionary Dragnet was when it hit radio. The style it perfected and the approach to docudrama realism it produced can still be seen in TV procedural programs and films today, more than sixty years after it premiered. But none of it would have been possible without actor, producer, and director Jack Webb. Born April 2, 1920, there was more to the man than Joe Friday’s no-nonsense demeanor. Webb was a talented writer, director, and producer, a music aficionado, and - perhaps least well known - a man with a wicked sense of humor. Along with Rod Serling and Quinn Martin, Webb was arguably one of the biggest creative forces in the Golden Age of Television, and he is undeniably a legend of the Golden Age of Radio. Webb grew up in Los Angeles. His father left before Webb was born, and Webb was raised by his mother and grandmother. As a boy, Webb grew up with a love of movies and jazz music, the latter cultivated by a jazzman tenant in his mother’s rooming house.  He enlisted in the Air Force in World War II, but he did not make it through flight training (in his words, he “washed out”).  After his discharge, Webb moved to San Francisco where he got into radio. The lack of announcers due to the war left vacancies on the schedule of ABC’s San Francisco affiliate KGO, and Webb served as an announcer, DJ, and as host of his own comedy show, The Jack Webb Show, a sketch comedy series that poked fun at current events and featured a house band playing Dixieland jazz numbers. His comedy career on the air would be short-lived, as he turned his attention to the crime genre that would come to define his output for the rest of his career. During his time at KGO, Webb struck up a friendship with writer Richard Breen and the two collaborated on The Jack Webb Show. The two were approached to fill some holes in KGO’s programming schedule, and they created a character who was perfectly suited for Webb’s downbeat, naturalistic style. Novak would be a detective of the hard-boiled school, operating out of an office on the San Francisco waterfront, and he would deliver some of the best dialogue this side of a pulp novel. Pat Novak For Hire premiered on KGO in 1946 and was a hit almost immediately. The combination of Webb’s voice and Breen’s words was unlike anything radio listeners had heard up until that point. Novak was cynical and world-weary, and he had great reason to be both. He was often double-crossed by his clients; he rarely got the girl; and he was always on the outs with the law, particularly with the block-headed Inspector Hellman.  His only friend (if you could call him that) was Jocko Madigan, an ex-doctor and full-time boozer who could come to Novak’s aid, but not without dropping a ton of unwanted tipsy advice on Novak. Despite the success, Webb and Breen jumped ship for reasons that have never fully been explained.  ABC soldiered on with Ben Morris stepping in as the new Pat Novak, while Breen and Webb set up shop on Mutual with the very similar program Johnny Madero, Pier 23.  Listeners didn’t take to Morris in the role, and the series signed off in early 1948.  Webb continued in the detective business, and he starred for a season as Jeff Regan, Investigator for CBS before returning to Pat Novak for a national run on ABC in 1949.  It was during this period where Webb was beginning to get the ideas for what would become his signature series and role. In 1948, Webb played the role of a crime scene technician in He Walked By Night.  During breaks in the filming, he struck up a friendship with the movie’s technical advisor, Sgt. Marty Wynn.  Webb believed there was an opportunity to dramatically depict police work in an authentic manner; most radio shows (including Webb’s own Pat Novak and Jeff Regan usually played cops as incompetent at best and corrupt at worst).  Working with Wynn and other police officers, along with writer James Moser, Webb pitched the concept to NBC.  That series would become Dragnet, and its combination of authentic cases and a “ripped from the headlines” style with Webb’s signature realistic approach made for a series that - once again - was unlike anything radio audiences had heard. Webb starred as Sgt. Joe Friday, the epitome of a professional policeman, who rotated in and out of different divisions of the LAPD (Homicide, Narcotics, Traffic, etc.).  This allowed Webb and his team to tell a full range of stories, all taken from LAPD files.  Sometimes there was a corpse and the thrill of the hunt of a killer; in other episodes, there were stake-outs and spent shoe leather running down leads.  Through it all, Webb pushed for authenticity: “We try to make cops human beings.  We try to combine the best qualities of the men I’ve seen downtown, incorporate their way of speaking, make a composite.” Dragnet exploded in popularity not long after it premiered in 1949. A TV version followed in 1951 and a film version hit the big screen in 1954. Perhaps the surest sign of success came in the form of parody when satirist Stan Freberg released his dead-on send-up of the show "St. George and the Dragonet." Webb, who had a better sense of humor than he's given credit for, loved it and allowed the use of the trademark Dragnet theme music. Even during this time, when he was on Dragnet twice a week on radio and TV, Webb continued to work elsewhere. He created and starred in the short-lived 1951 radio crime drama Pete Kelly’s Blues, a Prohibition-era crime drama centered on a cornet player in a Kansas City speakeasy who frequently rubbed elbows with the city's unsavory elements. The series incorporated his lifelong love of jazz into the mystery stories, and Webb strove for authenticity just as he did on Dragnet. Pete Kelly's cornet - the instrument played on the air by Dick Cathcart - was presented to Webb by a San Francisco fan whose father had played it in Chicago speakeasies during the 1920s.  This blend of music was something new to dramatic radio, and it coincided with the entrance of jazz into the American mainstream. Big screen success eluded Webb, and after a few misfires at the box office in the late 1950s, he was back in television.  In 1963, he was given the reins of the private eye drama 77 Sunset Strip, which he rebranded in his own style.  The series, which had been one of the more “hip” mystery shows on TV, suffered a ratings hit as a result of the shift and was cancelled. Fortunately for Webb, there was still a demand for his style - and his signature series. He was approached by Universal in 1966 to develop a new Dragnet TV movie. The product was so well received that NBC put a new Dragnet series on the air, with Webb back as Sgt. Joe Friday. It’s this color run of Dragnet (which aired often on Nick at Nite in the early 1990s) with which Webb is most closely associated. It also kicked off the next phase of his career, as a producer of TV content through his Mark VII production company. In addition to Dragnet, Webb produced the squad car-based police drama Adam-12 and the EMT/paramedic series Emergency!, both of which enjoyed long runs in the late 1960s and early 1970s. (His Adam-12 star Martin Milner got one of his first jobs on the radio version of Dragnet, playing one of Joe Friday’s young partners.) In the early 1980s, Webb was prepping for yet another Dragnet revival, and he tapped Kent McCord of Adam-12 to play Joe Friday’s new partner. Before the series could go into production, Webb passed away at the age of 62 from a heart attack on December 23, 1982. In recognition of his long partnership with the Los Angeles Police Department, the LAPD retired 714, Joe Friday’s badge number. All flags in Los Angeles flew at half-staff in his honor. One doesn’t need to look far to see Jack Webb’s legacy alive and well today. Reality-based police procedurals cover the prime-time landscape, and the realistic style of acting he helped introduce to the mainstream has influenced generations of writers and actors. He was a tireless professional who worked right up until the end of an unfortunately short life, but his body of work will continue to outlive him and entertain new generations of fans.

Academy Award, one of the more prestigious Hollywood radio programs, premiered on CBS on March 30, 1946. The series presented recreations of films that had been nominated for or won - you guessed it - the Academy Award. The Oscar distinction set it apart from other Hollywood anthologies like The Lux Radio Theatre and Screen Directors Playhouse. Humphrey Bogart, Ginger Rogers, Gregory Peck, and Lana Turner were just some of the stars who appeared at the microphone to recreate their screen roles on the air. Ultimately, that Oscar-prestige helped to spell a premature end for the series, as the cost for licensing the mentions of the Academy Awards (combined with the big salaries for the Hollywood stars) proved prohibitive for a long run. The program came to an end after only 39 episodes, despite being a hit with audiences. To celebrate the show's anniversary, here are some of my favorite big screen adaptations from the short run of Academy Award. "Stagecoach" - Claire Trevor is among the passengers on this eventful trip through the west. John Ford's classic film comes to radio without co-star John Wayne, but it's still a great production following an unlikely band of travelers as they try to survive the elements and an Indian attack en route to safety. (Originally aired on CBS on May 4, 1946) "The Maltese Falcon" - Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, and Sydney Greenstreet recreate their roles in this abridged production of the classic film noir drama. Sam Spade is on the hunt for the titular black bird, and he's surrounded by characters who will try to woo him or kill him to steal the prize for themselves. (Originally aired on CBS on July 3, 1946) "Young Mr. Lincoln" - John Ford's tale of the pre-presidential life of Honest Abe gets the radio treatment with original star Henry Fonda. He's superb as Lincoln as a young attorney trying to clear two men of a murder charge. (Originally aired on CBS on July 10, 1946) "Foreign Correspondent" - One of several Hitchcock films adapted for the program, this radio play finds Joseph Cotten stepping in for Joel McCrea as a reporter abroad in the earliest days of World War II. He stumbles into an assassination plot and must stay alive to get his story back to his readers in the United States. (Originally aired on CBS on July 24, 1946) "Shadow of a Doubt" - Alfred Hitchcock's favorite film of all the pictures he directed gets a great radio adaptation with Joseph Cotten back at the microphone. He recreates his role as Uncle Charlie, the lovable relative who comes to town with a cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. His niece and namesake Charlie begins to suspect her beloved uncle may be hiding a murderous secret. (Originally aired on CBS on September 11, 1946)

“Broadway is my beat. From Times Square to Columbus Circle - the gaudiest, the most violent…the lonesomest mile in the world.” On February 27, 1949, Broadway is My Beat premiered on CBS. Rising above the din of radio mysteries Broadway is My Beat was a New York-set police procedural that followed Detective Danny Clover as he solved crimes along the Great White Way.  Thanks to the expert direction, the sharp writing, and an impressive lead performance, Broadway is My Beat broke the mold of a police drama and holds up today as one of the best shows from the era. The series premiered in February 1949 on CBS as a competently made police drama with a capable lead performance from stage veteran Anthony Ross as Danny Clover.  It attracted little attention from the public and the series left the air after four months.  Originating from New York for the first go-round, CBS moved production across the country to Los Angeles and engaged a new production team to retool the series. The reins were turned over to Elliot Lewis, who was about to break out as one of the great radio talents of the era.  Lewis was best known in 1949 as an actor; he starred in the Mutual adventure series Voyage of the Scarlet Queen, and he played Frankie Remley, the dim bulb sidekick of Phil Harris on The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show.  He cut his teeth in the Armed Forces Radio Service and learned the ins and outs of radio, from scriptwriting to directing, during World War II.  Lewis wasn’t interested in making just another police drama.  He wanted to make the city of New York as much a character on the show as the cops and the criminals.  To that end, he employed a team of three sound effects artists to create one of radio’s richest soundscapes.  It was rare that the sounds of traffic and the hustle of the city weren’t heard as Danny Clover walked up flights of stairs at apartment houses or ducked into bars still waking up from the previous’ nights revelries. Lewis added scriptwriting duo Morton Fine and David Friedkin to the Broadway is My Beat team.  This veteran radio duo (who would later create the classic 1960s TV series I Spy) put a spin on Danny Clover that was more in line with Jack Webb’s Joe Friday than brilliant super-cops.  Clover cracked cases through determination and hard work; he was no deductive genius but he wasn’t a dullard either.  In a June 15, 1950 article in The Sherbrooke Telegram, Fine and Friedkin described Danny Clover as “a nice, human guy who is a policeman and who solves crimes by piling human emotion against human emotion.“ But Clover wasn’t going to be the man Fine and Friedkin imagined without the right voice at the microphone.  Fortunately, the right man got the job.  Larry Thor was a CBS announcer (he could be heard introducing Rocky Jordan and other programs) who started acting along with his announcing chores.  He brought a dignity and determination to the work of a policeman, and he delivered the lyrical dialogue of the scripts effortlessly.  Supporting Clover at police headquarters were Charles Calvert as the quirky desk sergeant Gino Tartaglia, and Jack Kruschen as Clover’s sidekick in the field, Detective Muggavan.  Just like Clover, these weren’t the typical radio cops, but they added some color and levity to the downbeat scripts and harsh world of the series. The combination of rich performances, poetic, complex scripts, and a vivid soundscape created one of radio’s most poignant and memorable police dramas.  For much of the run, the show was sustained by CBS and was used to fill gaps on the network’s lineup.  it moved consistently, which is never the right way to build an audience.  The series left the air in 1953, but one listen to Broadway is My Beat today reveals a show that succeeded in spite of its scheduling woes; it wasn’t just another radio cop show, and it may be a program that plays better to a 21st century audience more accustomed to realism and morally complex plots than some of the white-hat derring do of the Golden Age of Radio.

“It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s SUPERMAN!” On February 12, 1940, two years after his debut in the pages of Action Comics, Superman took flight on radio.  As he thrilled readers in the comic books and dazzled audiences in movie theaters, the Man of Steel soared on the airwaves, battling the mob, Nazi spies and saboteurs, mad scientists, and aliens from other planets, all while cementing the character’s popularity as an American icon. In fact, much of Superman’s mythology grew out of his radio adventures and later worked its way into the comic stories.  Plucky cub reporter Jimmy Olsen and blustery newspaper editor Perry White were both original creations for the radio series. Ditto Metropolis Police Inspector Henderson, one of Superman’s allies on the police force. The first meeting of Superman and Batman happened on radio in 1945 (they’d appeared on covers of comics before, but radio featured the first story where the characters teamed up), and Superman had his first encounter with his Achilles’ heel - Kryptonite - not on the pages of the comics, but on the radio series. The show was a ratings success practically from the start.  Radio veteran Jack Johnstone (who later directed Bob Bailey as Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar) directed the early shows, and the series topped the charts among three-day-a-week children’s serials.  The series aired in syndication until March 9, 1942.  Six months later, it returned over the entire Mutual Network in a five-day-a-week series.  Directed by George Lowther and later Allen Ducovny, Superman exploded during the World War II era, as Kryptonite was thrown into the mix in 1943 and Superman and his friends fought Nazis as often as they fought domestic villains.  One of these baddies led to one of the show’s longest and most celebrated storylines when Superman battled a Nazi-engineered, Kryptonite-fueled Atom Man out to avenge the defeat of Germany from October to December 1945. But it wasn’t all fights with Atom Men and imaginary monsters.  On the air, Superman fought racial intolerance and bigotry, and today the series is as fondly remembered for its social consciousness as much as for its thrilling adventures.  In one memorable arc (the “Unity House” series), Superman defended an interfaith community center from a gang of bigots; in another, he battled the “Clan of the Firey Cross,” a thinly veiled substitute for the Ku Klux Klan.  Despite pressure from some listeners (and a threatened boycott by the KKK itself), Mutual and Kellogg’s, the show’s sponsor, stuck by their program, and the series received seals of approval from the Boys Clubs of America, the Associated Negro Press, and the United Parents Association, among others. At the center of this series, providing the voice of a man who could change the course of mighty rivers and bend steel in his bare hands, was a busy radio actor who initially didn’t want the gig.  By age 32, Clayton “Bud” Collyer  was appearing on all four major networks over several dozen series.  And while he won the job by creating two distinct voices for Superman and his secret identity of mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent, he initially turned down the role.  “The whole idea embarrassed me, so I said no,” he recalled years later.  Collyer would also voice the Man of Steel in the classic cartoons from Max Fleischer, and he returned in 1966 for Filmation’s New Adventures of Superman.  Later, in the years following the Golden Age of Radio, Collyer would find fame as a game show host on television, anchoring shows like Quick as a Flash and To Tell the Truth.  He played Superman in close to 1,700 shows and was the “voice” of the Man of Steel to a generation as much as George Reeves was the “face” on television. Collyer was backed up by a great cast in the Superman family.  Joan Alexander set the template for Lois Lane - smart, spunky, and willing to jump into the fray as no damsel in distress.  Julian Noa voiced the perpetually frustrated editor Perry White, and Jackie Kelk (Homer on The Aldrich Family) gave the right dose of “gee whiz” enthusiasm to Jimmy Olsen.  But a comic book adventure is lost without a narrator, and for most of its run Superman had a humdinger in Jackson Beck, who famously intoned the legendary introduction that began with “Faster than a speeding bullet!” (Yep, that was coined for the radio series as well.) Today, the radio adventures of Superman still pack a ton of excitement into every fifteen or thirty minute episode.  Even if you can only see him in the theater of your own mind, Superman rockets through the air when Bud Collyer’s voice drops an octave, that wind machine kicks in, and Jackson Beck’s stentorian boom erupts over the speakers.

On February 11, 1949, Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar premiered on CBS and kicked off the career of “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator.” Dollar traveled the world investigating cases of insurance fraud until 1962. Each mystery was narrated by Johnny as he itemized his expense account for his bosses at “the home office.” The series aired up until the end of the Golden Age of Radio in 1962, and it remains one of the most beloved detective programs of the era. What made the show work?  The format of the show is a great hook - Dollar narrates the story as he itemizes his expense account for his employers.  As the case progresses, another expense is rattled off.  This was played up for humorous effect in the show’s early days, leading to a frequent announcer tag line - “At insurance investigation, he’s only an expert.  At making out his expense account, he’s an absolute genius!“  Dollar was sharp, a bit cynical, and had brains to match his brawn. But in his first several years on the air, Johnny Dollar was a good - but not great - radio detective.  There was little about the show to distinguish it from the sea of detective shows cluttering the airwaves.  Three different actors (Charles Russell, Edmond O'Brien, and John Lund) played Dollar between 1949 and 1954.  (Dick Powell was actually the first to play Johnny Dollar in a 1948 audition program.  Before the show went to series, Powell opted to star in Richard Diamond, Private Detective on NBC.)  The insurance investigation angle provided a different flavor for the show, but those early shows weren’t quite in the same league as Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe.  The show actually left the airwaves in 1954, and Johnny Dollar might have ended up as a radio footnote had it not been for a revamped series that returned to the air in 1955. Under the direction of Jack Johnstone, Johnny Dollar was reinvented as a five-night-a-week 15 minute serial.  Johnstone was a veteran radio writer and director who previously brought Buck Rogers and Superman to radio. Just before he took the helm of Johnny Dollar, he served as producer and director for the outstanding NBC western series The Six Shooter, which brought Jimmy Stewart to weekly radio as its star.  Johnstone served as producer and director of the new series, and he frequently provided scripts.  With 75 minutes instead of 30 for stories every week, Johnstone and his fellow writers could deliver complex plots with plenty of twists and turns and nuanced characters with more depth than the usual supporting players in a weekly detective show. But talent behind the scenes is only part of the story.  Johnny Dollar’s renaissance owes as much to the man in front of the microphone - a strong, dynamic actor who breathed life and a personality into the detective.  And it was an actor who was no stranger to solving crimes on the airwaves. Bob Bailey was fresh off a run as private eye George Valentine in Let George Do It when he was cast as Dollar.  He sank his teeth into the king-size scripts, and his performance fleshed out the character in a way that the previous actors had never quite managed to nail down.  His Johnny Dollar would more often than not get too involved in his cases, and he might fall too hard for a female suspect.  He loved to fish, and his clients might exploit that to persuade him to take a dangerous job in a far-off locale where he could be promised a good catch.  He was unpredictable, funny, and dangerous.  In the early years, Johnny Dollar was just a radio detective. With Jack Johnstone’s words and Bob Bailey’s voice, he joined the ranks of Marlowe and Spade, characters with long histories on the page behind them. The series continued in the serial format until 1956 when it returned to 30 minutes once a week.  While the individual shows may not have always been as rich as the five-part stories, Bailey’s performance remained strong.  He remained in the role until 1960, when CBS shut down its West Coast radio operations and moved its dramatic productions to New York.  The show continued for another two seasons; Jack Johnstone continued to provide scripts but was replaced as director.  Bob Readick and Mandel Kramer starred as Dollar until he turned in his last expense account on the final night of network radio on September 30, 1962. Nearly all of the episodes of the show survive, and while each actor brought something unique to the character, it is Bailey’s Johnny Dollar that stands head and shoulders above them all.  His wry humor, his hard edge, and his world-weary cynicism come through in every line of his performance, and there are years of episodes for today’s audiences to rediscover and enjoy.

On February 6, 1950, reporter Randy Stone took his first walk on the Night Beat. Frank Lovejoy starred as Randy, an intrepid newspaperman working at the Chicago Star. Every night, Randy explored the darkened streets of the Windy City in search of stories for his column. Randy Stone was looking for the good and the bad of human nature - anything that would make for a good yarn to follow his byline. Along the way, he usually found trouble among the desperate and the dangerous residents of the city at night. In each episode of the show, columnist Randy Stone went to work when the sun went down and set off through the city streets in search of stories about people that had fallen through the cracks.  The “human” in human interest stories was of paramount importance to him, and like a knight on a romantic crusade, Stone did his best to help the subjects of his stories and ensure as much of a happy ending as he could for his column.  Randy Stone wasn’t a detective; he wasn’t even an amateur sleuth like Box 13’s Dan Holiday or Casey, Crime Photographer.  But he walked the streets of Chicago after dark and as a sucker for a hard luck story, he frequently found himself in conflict with the mob, gamblers and thieves, con men, and killers.  He could be taken in by a sob story or come around to discover a perceived villain had been wronged as badly as the victim.  He didn’t carry a gun, and he wasn’t a fighter, but he had dogged persistence in chasing down a story to the end.  It was the kind of persistence that was finely honed from walking the streets and wearing out who knows how many pairs of shoes. On May 19, 1949, an audition program for the series was recorded starring Edmond O’Brien as reporter “Hank Mitchell.”  Directed by Bill Rousseau (director of hard-boiled private eye shows Pat Novak and Michael Shayne), O’Brien’s performance was closer to how he’d sound as Johnny Dollar a year later: tougher, cynical, and harder-edged.  Not a bad performance (in fact, it served him well in the role of “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator”), but it was a little too tough for what producers were looking for. Night Beat got a second bite at the apple almost a year later.  This time, actor Frank Lovejoy stepped to the microphone as the lead character, rechristened “Randy Stone.”  Where Hank Mitchell was cynical, Randy Stone was a kind of cock-eyed optimist.  Where Mitchell was tough, Stone was compassionate.  Of the voices, Randy Stone’s sounded more like that of a champion for the little guy.  And delivering that winning performance for over 100 episodes was Frank Lovejoy. Lovejoy had been a radio actor in the 1930s and early 1940s, appearing on Gang Busters and This is Your FBI.  He was the first actor to play the Blue Beetle on radio, and he was frequently heard as a supporting player on Sam Spade, Box 13, and Adventures of Superman; he also took more than a few starring turns on Suspense.  In films, Lovejoy was often a supporting player in everyman roles in films like The Hitch-Hiker, House of Wax, and In a Lonely Place.  This “man of the people” streak to his work served him well as Randy Stone, and Lovejoy delivers one of the best dramatic lead performances from the Golden Age of Radio in Night Beat. It helped that he was given wonderful words to say and characters to say them to with scripts by Larry Marcus, Russell Hughes (main writer for Box 13), and others. One of the great dramatic shows of the 1950s, Night Beat was anchored by Frank Lovejoy’s performance and strong scripts. Though not strictly a detective program, Night Beat often featured stories of crime and killers, of cops and robbers. Night Beat was a bright spot in the Golden Age of Radio as it gradually gave way to the rise of television. Here are a few of my favorite episodes of this fantastic series. You can celebrate the anniversary of the show’s premiere and hear what made it such a unique entry in the world of old time radio drama. “Zero” – In the show’s first episode, Randy Stone stumbles across a young woman on a frantic citywide search for a man about to die because of her clerical error. They hunt high and low through the streets of the Windy City to find the man and to save two lives – the man who mistakenly believes he has a terminal illness and the woman who would never forgive herself if she cost a man his life. (Originally aired on NBC on February 6, 1950) “I Wish You Were Dead” – Randy is fascinated by a mild-mannered man who claims to have a deadly ability – the power to kill people using only his mind. (Originally aired on NBC on May 22, 1950) “The Football Player and the Syndicate” – William Conrad guest stars as a college football hero long past his gridiron glory days. Now working as a broken down private investigator and trying to stay a step ahead of his gambling debts, he asks for Randy’s help on a job. If he can find a man for a notorious Chicago political boss, he can make enough money to clear his debts and dig himself out of his hole. (Originally aired on NBC on June 12, 1950) “The City at Your Fingertips” – On a quiet night, Randy lets his fingers do the walking and dials a random phone number. To his surprise, the woman on the other end of the line begs for help. She’s being held prisoner by a man who may return to kill her at any moment. Can Randy save her life when even she doesn’t know where she’s been trapped? (Originally aired on NBC on July 31, 1950)

Frontier Gentleman, the story of an English reporter traveling the wild west, premiered on this day in 1958. Along with Gunsmoke, it's one of the best "adult western" dramas of the radio era. While the entire series (an unfortunately too-short run of 41 episodes) is well worth a listen, here are ten episodes that – if you’re new to the show – are a great place to start. “Kendall’s Last Stand” – It’s the eve of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and Kendall, a small party of soldiers, and an Indian scout break off from the 7th cavalry under the command of General Custer. But Kendall and company may meet the same fate as Custer and his men after they’re pinned down by a war party. With limited ammunition, Kendall and the scout seek refuge with a brave widow in her cabin, and they face a long night with their adversaries lurking outside. (Originally aired on CBS on February 23, 1958) “The Powder River Kid” – Kendall comes across an infamous gunfighter and robber, but the man is wounded and succumbing to gangrene. Knowing his time is running out, the man asks Kendall to kill him and collect the reward on his head so his wife can collect the money. This one features a great supporting performance from Larry Dobkin as the Powder River Kid, and the story is a perfect example of the drama that could come from a well-written “adult western.” (Originally aired on CBS on April 6, 1958) “The Trial” (also known as “Kendall for the Defense”) – J.B. Kendall, reporter, becomes J.B. Kendall, attorney in this humorous story of a murder trial held in a makeshift saloon courtroom. There’s a defendant who refuses to surrender his shootin’ irons, a hostile judge, and a dubious eyewitness that Kendall must overcome to see that justice is served. (Originally aired on CBS on April 13, 1958) “Aces and Eights” – This is my pick for the best episode of the series. Kendall makes his way to Deadwood just in time to grab a seat at the table for the west’s most infamous game of poker. He meets legends Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane, and he gets the chance to see the real people behind the tall tales. If you’ve ever wondered why “aces and eights” is known as a “dead man’s hand,” this story will give you the answer. (Originally aired on CBS on April 20, 1958) “Random Notes” – Another great episode with several stories in one. Kendall is taking the stagecoach and takes advantage of the time to recount some of the tales that didn’t make it into his regular reports. He’s in the audience for an amateur western production of Othello, he witnesses a duel between two women fighting over the same man, he talks to a condemned killer, and he watches as a Chinese shopkeeper gets the last laugh on a group of men who try to cheat him. (Originally aired on CBS on April 27, 1958) “School Days” (also known as “Duel for a School Marm”) – Kendall has barely arrived in a town before he’s being pressed into voting for a schoolhouse. The town and its rival city are competing for the attentions of a beautiful young teacher – even though the towns are devoid of children. The teacher doesn’t appreciate the predicament and the fact that the men of the towns are willing to go to war to get their educations. (Originally aired on CBS on June 1, 1958) “Gambling Lady” – Jeanne Bates gives a great performance and has tremendous chemistry with John Dehner in this story of a new gambling palace run by the mysterious “Madam Verdi.” As Kendall becomes fascinated with this beautiful, independent western woman, her secret (and deadly) past resurfaces with tragic results. Bates would return as Madam Verdi, also known as “Belle Siddons,” in a memorable three-part episode later in the series’ run. (Originally aired on CBS on June 29, 1958) “Justice of the Peace” – In this powerful episode, Kendall meets one of the few women acting as a justice of the peace on the frontier (voiced brilliantly by Paula Winslowe) and he witnesses firsthand as she stands up to a mob hoping to lynch her prisoner – an Indian accused of murder. (Originally aired on CBS on July 13, 1958) “Mighty Mouse” and “Mighty Tired” – One of the things that I love about Frontier Gentleman is its continuity. Characters recur, Kendall’s previous adventures are referenced, and sometimes stories stretch across multiple episodes. In this two-parter, a stagecoach carrying Kendall and a miner is robbed. A blustery lawman is on the case, but all he manages to do is let the thieves (later revealed to be Jesse James and his gang) slip through his fingers. In the follow-up story, Kendall and his miner friend get a chance for justice when they spot some of the robbers on a train. (Originally aired on CBS on July 20 and July 27, 1958).

Happy Holidays! As you wait for Santa’s sleigh to touch down on your roof tonight, enjoy these yuletide adventures of some of our favorite old time radio detectives! “The Night Before Christmas” – A pair of Santas leads Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson to a Christmas caper perpetrated by their old enemy Professor Moriarty. Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce star in this episode, originally aired on Mutual on December 24, 1945. “Jack Frost” – Candy Matson (Natalie Master) is on the case when one of Santa’s helpers disappears. The beautiful and brilliant private eye uncovers a holiday murder in this episode originally aired on NBC on December 10, 1949. “The Department Store Swindle (How I Played Santa Claus and Almost Got Left Holding the Bag” – Charles Russell plays Johnny Dollar in this early adventure of “the man with the action-packed expense account.” Johnny heads to the department store to fight the crowds. But he’s also there to find a gang of thieves that may resort to murder to stay a step ahead of the law in this episode originally aired on CBS on December 24, 1949. “Santa Claus is No Saint” – Simon Templar puts on padding to play Santa at a charity event, but before he can make merry, he has to solve a murder. Vincent Price is “the Robin Hood of modern crime” in this episode originally aired on NBC on December 20, 1950. “The Case of the Slaughtered Santas” – Someone is bumping off sidewalk St. Nicks, and one of the scared Santas hires Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin to get him safely home for the holidays. Sydney Greenstreet is Wolfe and Larry Dobkin is Archie in this episode originally aired on NBC on December 22, 1950. “The Big Little Jesus” – The cops of Dragnet are on the hunt for a figurine of the Christ child stolen from a poor church’s nativity scene. It’s a heartfelt story with a wonderful ending – and a far cry from the other Dragnet holiday episode about the dangers of giving a child a gun for Christmas. Jack Webb is Sgt. Joe Friday and Ben Alexander is Officer Frank Smith in this episode originally aired on NBC on December 22, 1953. “The Plot to Murder Santa Claus” – Frank Sinatra stars as Rocky Fortune in this tale of holiday homicide. Rocky’s latest job is playing Santa in a crowded department store just before Christmas. He tries to make a little girl’s holiday wish come true (and win over her beautiful older sister in the process), but a gun-toting gang may keep the season from looking bright in this episode originally aired on NBC on December 22, 1953.

Happy Thanksgiving! In honor of Turkey Day – and to keep you company while you’re in the kitchen or waiting to eat – here are five old time radio mysteries starring some of your favorite sleuths as they mix in solving crimes with their stuffing and cranberry sauce. Casey, Crime Photographer All Casey (Staats Cotsworth) wants is to enjoy his Thanksgiving dinner, but before he can eat he’ll have to clear a young ex-con framed for a robbery in “After Turkey, the Bill” (originally aired on CBS on November 27, 1947). Jeff Regan, Investigator A turkey shoot turns deadly when a man catches the bullet instead of the bird. Now it’s up to Jeff Regan (Jack Webb) to solve the crime as he contends with some modern-day Mayflower passengers in “The Pilgrim’s Progress” (originally aired on CBS on November 13, 1948). Casey, Crime Photographer Casey and Ann Williams (Jan Miner) put another Thanksgiving dinner on hold to help a paroled safecracker whose old gang is trying to thwart his attempts to go straight in “Holiday” (originally aired on CBS on November 25, 1948). Let George Do It It’s not a happy Thanksgiving for a ten year-old boy who refuses to speak. George Valentine (Bob Bailey) tries to uncover the mystery – and to see if he can coax some words from the boy – in “Cause for Thanksgiving” (originally aired on Mutual on November 20, 1950). The Adventures of Sam Spade Normally, the death of a turkey wouldn’t make news on Thanksgiving but Sam Spade’s new client is a human Turkey – Tom Turkey, to be precise. He hires Spade (Steve Dunne) to find out who wants to rub him out in “The Terrified Turkey Caper” (originally aired on NBC on November 24, 1950).

Today in 1945, Superman first encountered the caped crusaders, Batman and Robin. This momentous meeting of heroes didn’t take place in a comic book or film serial; it happened on radio on The Adventures of Superman. That first meeting found Superman rescuing an unconscious Robin from a rowboat, a discovery that kicked off a hunt for the missing Batman. The Man of Steel had enjoyed radio success since his debut on the air in 1940, and though the Dark Knight Detective would go on to conquer the big and small screens success on radio eluded him. The first attempt to bring the Caped Crusader to the air came in 1943.  DC Comics, the publisher of Batman comics, was eager to duplicate the success it enjoyed years earlier with Superman.  The Man of Steel was the star of his own popular radio series airing on the Mutual Network, and he’d appeared on the big screen in a series of sharply produced animated shorts from Max Fleischer.  In 1943, Batman hit the big screen in a 15 chapter Columbia Pictures serial, and he took to the airwaves in an audition program for a Mutual series.  The story, titled “The Case of the Drowning Seal,” found Batman and Robin pursuing the Nazi agents who murdered Robin’s parents.  Comic fans may recognize this was a departure from the origin of Robin’s sidekick, but these were the years when everyone, from Superman to Sherlock Holmes, joined the fight against Nazis.  The introduction for the series set the tone for what was to come: “You are about to hear the first in a series of programs starring - The Batman!  The legendary feats of this 20th century Robin Hood are tales of high adventure and stark mystery.  In his ceaseless struggle against the forces of evil and corruption, The Batman has enlisted the aid of no one!  He fights alone; his keen brain and athlete’s body, combined with the almost unbelievable acrobatic skill, have made the horned black mask and the flapping black cape the symbol of law and decency.” Thrilling stuff, and very true to the way Batman was depicted in the comics of the era.  Unfortunately, the program did not make it to series, and “The Case of the Drowning Seal” is lost.  Producers moved away from attempts to bring Batman to the air in his own series, but saw an opportunity to pair him up with one of his fellow heroes. In the early 1940s, Superman and Batman shared comic book covers, but they did not appear in the same stories.  Years before they would ever share an adventure in a comic panel or newspaper strip, the heroes would meet and team up on radio.  In March 1945, Superman (voiced on radio by Clayton “Bud” Collyer) rescued Robin, and the Dynamic Duo arrived on the air.  Over the years on The Adventures of Superman, Batman and Robin would appear, sometimes to join Superman in adventures and other times to give the busy Collyer a chance for a vacation.  This was especially true during the story arcs involving Superman’s battles against Kryptonite (his greatest weakness, the radioactive fragments of his home planet, were a creation of the radio series).  Superman would be “unconscious” with Batman and Robin hunting for their friend; in reality, Collyer was enjoying some time off! For most of the appearances on Superman, Batman was played by actor Matt Crowley, a veteran of juvenile adventure shows.  He was also played on occasion by Stacy Harris, a veteran of Jack Webb’s Dragnet who also starred as FBI Special Agent Jim Taylor in This is Your FBI.  Robin was played by actor Ronald Liss. A second attempt was made to bring Batman to radio in 1950, with Ronald Liss again donning the mask and cape of the Boy Wonder.  John Emery played Batman in the audition story “The Monster of Dumphrey’s Hall."  The frame of the show found Batman and Robin presiding over a meeting of the "Batman Mystery Club,” a gaggle of tykes who met to hear cases from the Caped Crusader’s files.  Oddly enough, all of these kids knew Batman’s true identity!  The plot, which involved an old estate with a possibly haunted room, would be more suitable for Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (ironically, Alfred Shirley, himself fresh off a radio run as Watson, appeared in a supporting role!).  The episode didn’t provide the solution; perhaps producers were confident they’d go to series.  Unfortunately (or fortunately?), this dreadful audition didn’t go to series. Just four years after the end of the Golden Age of Radio, Batman would explode in popularity thanks to television.  He may have missed his shot at radio stardom, but the pop culture phenomenon that was the Adam West TV series catapulted him into stardom that has never really gone away, and even managed to eclipse the hero who graciously shared the microphone with him in the 1940s.

Broadway is My Beat, the story of Detective Danny Clover and “the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world,” premiered on CBS on February 27, 1949. Thanks to the expert direction, the sharp writing, and an impressive lead performance, Broadway is My Beat broke the mold of a police drama and holds up today as one of the best shows from the era. Admittedly, it got off to an inauspicious start.  The series premiered as a competently made police drama with a capable lead performance from Anthony Ross as Danny Clover.  It attracted little attention from the public and the series left the air after four months.  Originating from New York for the first go-round, CBS moved production across the country to Los Angeles and engaged a new production team to retool the series. The reins were turned over to Elliot Lewis, who was about to break out as one of the great radio talents of the era.  Lewis was best known in 1949 as an actor; he starred in the Mutual adventure series Voyage of the Scarlet Queen, and he played Frankie Remley, the dim bulb sidekick of Phil Harris on The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show.  He cut his teeth in the Armed Forces Radio Service and learned the ins and outs of radio, from scriptwriting to directing, during World War II.  Lewis wasn’t interested in making just another police drama.  He wanted to make the city of New York as much a character on the show as the cops and the criminals.  To that end, he employed a team of three sound effects artists to create one of radio’s richest soundscapes.  It was rare that the sounds of traffic and the hustle of the city weren’t heard as Danny Clover walked up flights of stairs at apartment houses or ducked into bars still waking up from the previous’ nights revelries. Lewis added scriptwriting duo Morton Fine and David Friedkin to the Broadway is My Beat team.  This veteran radio duo (who would later create the classic 1960s TV series I Spy) put a spin on Danny Clover that was more in line with Jack Webb’s Joe Friday than brilliant super-cops.  Clover cracked cases through determination and hard work; he was no deductive genius but he wasn’t a dullard either.  In a June 15, 1950 article in The Sherbrooke Telegram, Fine and Friedkin described Danny Clover as “a nice, human guy who is a policeman and who solves crimes by piling human emotion against human emotion.“ But Clover wasn’t going to be the man Fine and Friedkin imagined without the right voice at the microphone.  Fortunately, the right man got the job.  Larry Thor was a CBS announcer (he could be heard introducing Rocky Jordan and other programs) who started acting along with his announcing chores.  He brought a dignity and determination to the work of a policeman, and he delivered the lyrical dialogue of the scripts effortlessly.  Supporting Clover at police headquarters were Charles Calvert as the quirky desk sergeant Gino Tartaglia, and Jack Kruschen as Clover’s sidekick in the field, Detective Muggavan.  Just like Clover, these weren’t the typical radio cops, but they added some color and levity to the downbeat scripts and harsh world of the series. The things that set Broadway is My Beat apart from the crowd also made it hard to sell to a sponsor.  For much of the run, the show was sustained by CBS and was used to fill gaps on the network’s lineup.  it moved consistently, which is never the right way to build an audience.  The series left the air in 1953, but one listen to Broadway is My Beat today reveals a show that succeeded in spite of its scheduling woes; it wasn’t just another radio cop show, and it may be a program that plays better to a 21st century audience more accustomed to realism and morally complex plots than some of the white-hat derring do of the Golden Age of Radio.

“Look, up in the sky!” Today, in 1940, Superman flew from the pages of Action Comics on to radio. As he thrilled readers in the comic books and dazzled audiences in movie theaters, the Man of Steel soared on the airwaves, battling the mob, Nazi spies and saboteurs, mad scientists, and aliens from other planets, all while cementing the character’s popularity as an American icon. In fact, much of Superman’s mythology grew out of his radio adventures and later worked its way into the comic stories.  Plucky cub reporter Jimmy Olsen and blustery newspaper editor Perry White were both original creations for the radio series. Ditto Metropolis Police Inspector Henderson, one of Superman’s allies on the police force. The first meeting of Superman and Batman happened on radio in 1945 (they’d appeared on covers of comics before, but radio featured the first story where the characters teamed up), and Superman had his first encounter with his Achilles’ heel - Kryptonite - not on the pages of the comics, but on the radio series. The show was a ratings success practically from the start when it premiered on February 12, 1940.  Radio veteran Jack Johnstone (who later directed Bob Bailey as Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar) directed the early shows, and the series topped the charts among three-day-a-week children’s serials.  The series aired in syndication until March 9, 1942.  Six months later, it returned over the entire Mutual Network in a five-day-a-week series.  Directed by George Lowther and later Allen Ducovny, Superman exploded during the World War II era, as Kryptonite was thrown into the mix in 1943 and Superman and his friends fought Nazis as often as they fought domestic villains.  One of these baddies led to one of the show’s longest and most celebrated storylines when Superman battled a Nazi-engineered, Kryptonite-fueled Atom Man out to avenge the defeat of Germany from October to December 1945. But it wasn’t all fights with Atom Men and imaginary monsters.  On the air, Superman fought racial intolerance and bigotry, and today the series is as fondly remembered for its social consciousness as much as for its thrilling adventures.  In one memorable arc (the “Unity House” series), Superman defended an interfaith community center from a gang of bigots; in another, he battled the “Clan of the Firey Cross,” a thinly veiled substitute for the Ku Klux Klan.  Despite pressure from some listeners (and a threatened boycott by the KKK itself), Mutual and Kellogg’s, the show’s sponsor, stuck by their program, and the series received seals of approval from the Boys Clubs of America, the Associated Negro Press, and the United Parents Association, among others. At the center of this series, providing the voice of a man who could change the course of mighty rivers and bend steel in his bare hands, was a busy radio actor who initially didn’t want the gig.  By age 32, Clayton “Bud” Collyer  was appearing on all four major networks over several dozen series.  And while he won the job by creating two distinct voices for Superman and his secret identity of mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent, he initially turned down the role.  “The whole idea embarrassed me, so I said no,” he recalled years later.  Collyer would also voice the Man of Steel in the classic cartoons from Max Fleischer, and he returned in 1966 for Filmation’s New Adventures of Superman.  Later, in the years following the Golden Age of Radio, Collyer would find fame as a game show host on television, anchoring shows like Quick as a Flash and To Tell the Truth.  He played Superman in close to 1,700 shows and was the “voice” of the Man of Steel to a generation as much as George Reeves was the “face” on television. Collyer was backed up by a great cast in the Superman family.  Joan Alexander set the template for Lois Lane - smart, spunky, and willing to jump into the fray as no damsel in distress.  Julian Noa voiced the perpetually frustrated editor Perry White, and Jackie Kelk (Homer on The Aldrich Family) gave the right dose of “gee whiz” enthusiasm to Jimmy Olsen.  But a comic book adventure is lost without a narrator, and for most of its run Superman had a humdinger in Jackson Beck, who famously intoned the legendary introduction that began with “Faster than a speeding bullet!” (Yep, that was coined for the radio series as well.) Today,the radio adventures of Superman still pack a ton of excitement into every fifteen or thirty minute episode.  Even if you can only see him in the theater of your own mind, Superman rockets through the air when Bud Collyer’s voice drops an octave, that wind machine kicks in, and Jackson Beck’s stentorian boom erupts over the speakers.

On February 11, 1949, Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar premiered on CBS and kicked off the career of “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator.” Dollar traveled the world investigating cases of insurance fraud until 1962. Each mystery was narrated by Johnny as he itemized his expense account for his bosses at “the home office.” The series aired up until the end of the Golden Age of Radio in 1962, and it remains one of the most beloved detective programs of the era. What made the show work?  The format of the show is a great hook - Dollar narrates the story as he itemizes his expense account for his employers.  As the case progresses, another expense is rattled off.  This was played up for humorous effect in the show’s early days, leading to a frequent announcer tag line - “At insurance investigation, he’s only an expert.  At making out his expense account, he’s an absolute genius!“  Dollar was sharp, a bit cynical, and had brains to match his brawn. But in his first several years on the air, Johnny Dollar was a good - but not great - radio detective.  There was little about the show to distinguish it from the sea of detective shows cluttering the airwaves.  Three different actors (Charles Russell, Edmond O'Brien, and John Lund) played Dollar between 1949 and 1954.  (Dick Powell was actually the first to play Johnny Dollar in a 1948 audition program.  Before the show went to series, Powell opted to star in Richard Diamond, Private Detective on NBC.)  The insurance investigation angle provided a different flavor for the show, but those early shows weren’t quite in the same league as Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe.  The show actually left the airwaves in 1954, and Johnny Dollar might have ended up as a radio footnote had it not been for a revamped series that returned to the air in 1955. Under the direction of Jack Johnstone, Johnny Dollar was reinvented as a five-night-a-week 15 minute serial.  Johnstone was a veteran radio writer and director who previously brought Buck Rogers and Superman to radio. Just before he took the helm of Johnny Dollar, he served as producer and director for the outstanding NBC western series The Six Shooter, which brought Jimmy Stewart to weekly radio as its star.  Johnstone served as producer and director of the new series, and he frequently provided scripts.  With 75 minutes instead of 30 for stories every week, Johnstone and his fellow writers could deliver complex plots with plenty of twists and turns and nuanced characters with more depth than the usual supporting players in a weekly detective show. But talent behind the scenes is only part of the story.  Johnny Dollar’s renaissance owes as much to the man in front of the microphone - a strong, dynamic actor who breathed life and a personality into the detective.  And it was an actor who was no stranger to solving crimes on the airwaves.  Bob Bailey was fresh off a run as private eye George Valentine in Let George Do It when he was cast as Dollar.  He sank his teeth into the king-size scripts, and his performance fleshed out the character in a way that the previous actors had never quite managed to nail down.  His Johnny Dollar would more often than not get too involved in his cases, and he might fall too hard for a female suspect.  He loved to fish, and his clients might exploit that to persuade him to take a dangerous job in a far-off locale where he could be promised a good catch.  He was unpredictable, funny, and dangerous.  In the early years, Johnny Dollar was just a radio detective.  With Jack Johnstone’s words and Bob Bailey’s voice, he joined the ranks of Marlowe and Spade, characters with long histories on the page behind them. The series continued in the serial format until 1956 when it returned to 30 minutes once a week.  While the individual shows may not have always been as rich as the five-part stories, Bailey’s performance remained strong.  He remained in the role until 1960, when CBS shut down its West Coast radio operations and moved its dramatic productions to New York.  The show continued for another two seasons; Jack Johnstone continued to provide scripts but was replaced as director.  Bob Readick and Mandel Kramer starred as Dollar until he turned in his last expense account on the final night of network radio on September 30, 1962. Nearly all of the episodes of the show survive, and while each actor brought something unique to the character, it is Bailey’s Johnny Dollar that stands head and shoulders above them all.  His wry humor, his hard edge, and his world-weary cynicism come through in every line of his performance, and there are years of episodes for today’s audiences to rediscover and enjoy.

“Hi - this is Randy Stone. I cover the night beat for the Chicago Star.” On February 6, 1950, reporter Randy Stone took his first walk on the Night Beat. Frank Lovejoy starred as Randy, an intrepid newspaperman working at the Chicago Star. Every night, Randy explored the darkened streets of the Windy City in search of stories for his column. Randy Stone was looking for the good and the bad of human nature - anything that would make for a good yarn to follow his byline. Along the way, he usually found trouble among the desperate and the dangerous residents of the city at night. In each episode of the show, columnist Randy Stone went to work when the sun went down and set off through the city streets in search of stories about people that had fallen through the cracks.  The “human” in human interest stories was of paramount importance to him, and like a knight on a romantic crusade, Stone did his best to help the subjects of his stories and ensure as much of a happy ending as he could for his column.  Randy Stone wasn’t a detective; he wasn’t even an amateur sleuth like Box 13’s Dan Holiday or Casey, Crime Photographer.  But he walked the streets of Chicago after dark and as a sucker for a hard luck story, he frequently found himself in conflict with the mob, gamblers and thieves, con men, and killers.  He could be taken in by a sob story or come around to discover a perceived villain had been wronged as badly as the victim.  He didn’t carry a gun, and he wasn’t a fighter, but he had dogged persistence in chasing down a story to the end.  It was the kind of persistence that was finely honed from walking the streets and wearing out who knows how many pairs of shoes. On May 19, 1949, an audition program for the series was recorded starring Edmond O’Brien as reporter “Hank Mitchell.”  Directed by Bill Rousseau (director of hard-boiled private eye shows Pat Novak and Michael Shayne), O’Brien’s performance was closer to how he’d sound as Johnny Dollar a year later: tougher, cynical, and harder-edged.  Not a bad performance (in fact, it served him well in the role of “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator”), but it was a little too tough for what producers were looking for. Night Beat got a second bite at the apple almost a year later.  This time, actor Frank Lovejoy stepped to the microphone as the lead character, rechristened “Randy Stone.”  Where Hank Mitchell was cynical, Randy Stone was a kind of cock-eyed optimist.  Where Mitchell was tough, Stone was compassionate.  Of the voices, Randy Stone’s sounded more like that of a champion for the little guy.  And delivering that winning performance for over 100 episodes was Frank Lovejoy. Lovejoy had been a radio actor in the 1930s and early 1940s, appearing on Gangbusters and This is Your FBI.  He was the first actor to play the Blue Beetle on radio, and he was frequently heard as a supporting player on Sam Spade, Box 13, and Adventures of Superman; he also took more than a few starring turns on Suspense.  In films, Lovejoy was often a supporting player in everyman roles in films like The Hitch-Hiker, House of Wax, and In a Lonely Place.  This “man of the people” streak to his work served him well as Randy Stone, and Lovejoy delivers one of the best dramatic lead performances from the Golden Age of Radio in Night Beat. It helped that he was given wonderful words to say and characters to say them to with scripts by Larry Marcus, Russell Hughes (main writer for Box 13), and others. One of the great dramatic shows of the 1950s, Night Beat was anchored by Frank Lovejoy’s performance and strong scripts. Though not strictly a detective program, Night Beat often featured stories of crime and killers, of cops and robbers. Night Beat was a bright spot in the Golden Age of Radio as it gradually gave way to the rise of television.

“Herewith, an Englishman’s account of life and death in the west. As a reporter for the London Times, he writes his colorful and unusual stories. But as a man with a gun, he lives and becomes a part of the violent years in the new territories.” Western heroes were in no short supply during the Golden Age of Radio. There were lawmen like Matt Dillon, keeping the peace and fighting to bring law and order to the frontier. There were hired guns like Paladin and roaming cowboys like Britt Ponsett who made every effort not to draw his gun. And of course, there was the granddaddy of all western heroes - the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains known as The Lone Ranger. But one of radio’s most unusual leading men of the old west was Jeremy Brian Kendall, correspondent for the London Times - the Frontier Gentleman. This standout drama made premiered on CBS on February 2, 1958. For a single radio season (just over 40 episodes) Frontier Gentleman followed Kendall on his journeys through the new territories of the United States. Moving from town to town, Kendall traded notes with fellow reporters, rode along with the cavalry, rubbed elbows with rogues, and shared his experiences - good and bad - with his readers back home. Kendall fought Indians, tangled with the James brothers, and he had a seat at the poker table during Wild Bill Hickok’s last hand. He fell for a beautiful Confederate spy, and he served as impromptu defense counsel and surgeon. The show was created, written, and directed by Antony Ellis - a native of England who worked extensively in American radio as an actor and behind the scenes talent. And the titular gentleman was played by John Dehner, a Disney animator who became a voice (and later TV and film) actor. Dehner could be heard on everything from Philip Marlowe to Escape to Gunsmoke and Suspense. An unlikely choice to play a Brit, Dehner was born in Staten Island, but he brought a mature, refined quality and an underplayed accent to Kendall. He didn’t sound like he grew up on the London streets, but it was easy to imagine Dehner’s voice coming from a man who had fought for the queen in India and who had picked up on the rough and tumble slang and customs of the American frontier. The show was fantastic, ranking near the top of the list of great radio westerns. Historian John Dunning said Frontier Gentleman was “the only serious rival to Gunsmoke in the radio Hall of Fame.” Unfortunately, the show came to radio in the medium’s twilight, and it lasted only that single season. The week after Frontier Gentleman ended, John Dehner went on the air as Paladin in the CBS radio adaptation of its TV hit Have Gun - Will Travel.

In the latter days of the Golden Age of Radio, several programs made the move to television - chasing advertisers and the public’s focus. Dragnet aired on radio and TV simultaneously for years, along with comedies like Our Miss Brooks and The Jack Benny Program. Generally, it was a one-way street, but in 1958 CBS reversed the trend when it brought its hit TV western Have Gun - Will Travel to radio. The series premiered on television in 1957. Created by Herb Meadow and Sam Rolfe (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.), the series starred Richard Boone as Paladin, a suave but deadly gun for hire. Educated at West Point, Paladin operated out of the luxurious Carlton Hotel in San Francisco. He was aided by hotel bellhop Hey Boy (Kam Tong), and he advertised his services with his trademark card, bearing the words “Have Gun - Will Travel.” Off duty, he enjoyed fine cigars, good drinks, and the company of lovely women. But when he was on the job, Paladin dressed in black and had nerves of steel. The series successfully blended two of television’s most popular genres: the western and the private eye series. It wasn’t as if Paladin was Sam Spade on horseback, but he was tough, resourceful, and worked by his own moral code. He’d take on dangerous jobs for the right place, but he would turn the tables on his employer if Paladin discovered he was being used. Boone was simultaneously debonair and dangerous as Paladin. The role earned him two Emmy nods and he directed several of the episodes. One of the show’s most prolific writers was Gene Roddenberry; less than ten years later, he’d bring Star Trek to television. Have Gun - Will Travel had a comfortable home in the top five on the Nielsen charts for its first four seasons on the air. The radio version of Have Gun - Will Travel had connections to the radio and TV versions of another classic western. Producers brought Gunsmoke to television in 1955, but producer Norman MacDonnell - who, along with writer John Meston had made the radio series one of the finest programs on the air - was largely shut out of the TV series. When CBS planned to bring the adventures of Paladin to radio, MacDonnell campaigned for - and won - the job. Actor Ben Wright, who co-starred as Hey Boy on radio, said “There were definite ill feelings between Norm and the television crew responsible for Gunsmoke. I think Norm came up with the idea for doing a radio version of Have Gun, possibly to show them that ‘Hey, look what I can do with your program, and I did it even better.’” When it came to casting the radio voice of Paladin, producers did not import the series’ television star. Instead, they tapped an actor who had only recently wrapped a run on another western program. John Dehner was one of the busiest radio actors in the 1950s, frequently guesting on Escape, Suspense, and - for Norman MacDonnell - Philip Marlowe and Gunsmoke. In fact, Dehner had been offered the role of Matt Dillon on Gunsmoke, but he turned it down. From February until November 1958, Dehner starred in Antony Ellis’ acclaimed drama Frontier Gentleman as British newspaper correspondent J.B. Kendall. It was a drama in the “adult western” vein of Gunsmoke, but it left the air in November. The week after J.B. Kendall filed his last report of the west, John Dehner was on the air as Paladin. Dehner sought to create his own version of Paladin, commenting “I didn’t pay any attention to [Richard Boone] at all. I knew it would be deadly if I were to imitate him or do anything that was even vaguely similar to him.” He made the role his own, creating a Paladin who sounded just as home in an opera box as he did on the trail. Each episode opened with Bernard Hermann’s driving theme (imported from television) and Dehner as Paladin delivering a line from the story to follow. Have Gun - Will Travel offered a showcase for some of radio’s greatest players as the era of radio drama was winding down. Harry Bartell, Larry Dobkin, Virginia Gregg, Jeanne Bates, Howard Culver, and many more (most of them members of MacDonnell’s repertory company) turned in supporting performances in a mix of adapted television scripts and original stories. On television, Paladin continued to hire himself out until 1963, but his radio series ran for 106 episodes. Have Gun - Will Travel left the air just over two years after it premiered and just about two years away from the end of the Golden Age of Radio. In the final episode, Paladin left San Francisco behind and rode to Boston to claim an inheritance. Just as he reversed the trend and rode to radio, Paladin defied his genre and rode east at the end of his story.

Actor Joel McCrea was born November 5, 1905. His show business career began when he was still in high school; he’d double for cowboy star Tom Mix in stunt scenes. During his career, McCrea worked with Alfred Hitchcock in Foreign Correspondent and Preston Sturges in Sullivan’s Travels and The Palm Beach Story. Westerns were his favorite films - he admitted as much, saying “I liked doing comedies, but as I got older I was better suited to do Westerns. Because I think it becomes unattractive for an older fellow trying to look young, falling in love with attractive girls in those kinds of situations…Anyway, I always felt so much more comfortable in the Western. The minute I got a horse and a hat and a pair of boots on, I felt easier. I didn’t feel like I was an actor anymore. I felt like I was the guy out there doing it.” It was fitting that he’d find success on radio in the cowboy crime drama Tales of the Texas Rangers. McCrea starred as Ranger Jayce Pearson in the NBC radio series from 1950 to 1952. McCrea lent a tough, no-nonsense air to the lead role of Ranger Jayce Pearson. He’s Joe Friday with a touch of Gary Cooper; Wyatt Earp with a radio and forensic knowledge. On screen, McCrea earned his spurs in The Virginian, Four Faces West, Ride the High Country, and more. Happiest when he was outdoors, McCrea described himself as a rancher with the hobby of acting. He passed away in 1990 at the age of 84.

“Not far from the Mosque Sultan Hassan in Cairo stands the Cafe Tambourine, run by Rocky Jordan.  The Cafe Tambourine, crowded with forgotten men, alive with the babble of many languages.  For this is Cairo, where modern adventure and intrigue unfold against a backdrop of antiquity.” Blend two of Humphrey Bogart’s signature roles - hard-boiled private eye Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon and ex-pat club owner Rick Blaine in Casablanca - and you’d end up with Rocky Jordan, an adventure/detective series that aired on the West Coast over CBS’ Pacific Network from 1945 to 1951.  Rocky ran the Cafe Tambourine, a watering hole and nightspot (not unlike Rick’s Cafe Americain) frequented by characters on both sides of the law.  Despite his best self-interested intentions, Rocky was usually drawn into the postwar intrigue that was being plotted in and around his club.  The combination of mystery and the exotic setting help Rocky Jordan stand out as a unique member of the old time radio detective fraternity. The series began as a five-night-a-week serial called A Man Called Jordan.  During this 1945 to 1947 run on CBS’ West Coast network, Rocky’s club was located in Istanbul.  When the series returned in a 30 minute format in 1948, Rocky had relocated the club to Cairo, but the premise of the series remained largely the same.  Rocky was an American, but he couldn’t return to his native land due to a murky event in his past in St. Louis.  Like Rick Blaine, he looked out for himself and wasn’t motivated to stick his neck out unless it carried the promise of a reward.  But Rocky discovered there was no shortage of old friends and foes from the states or Cairo criminals whose plans intersected with the Cafe Tambourine. For most of the run, Rocky was played by Jack Moyles (also heard as Sgt. Pete Carger on The Line-Up).  Moyles delivered Rocky’s tough guy style, but he allowed a hint of a heart to peek through when needed.  He brought a world-weary delivery to the role, and Moyles sold the part of a very American man in a uniquely un-American setting. A radio detective series wouldn’t be complete without a friendly rival on the police force; throughout the series, Jay Novello co-starred as Captain Sam Sabayya of the Cairo Police.  While his associates (including the toadyish Sgt. Greco) disliked Rocky, Sam knew he had a cautious ally in the American club owner, and the two frequently collaborated on investigations. Along with the casting, the production values of Rocky Jordan helped to make the show unique.  There was the musical score, composed by Richard Aurandt, that was heavily inspired by Middle Eastern music.  The Cairo setting was meticulously researched by writers Larry Roman and Gomer Cool to ensure they were authentically portraying the city.  They relied heavily on the Pocket Guide to Egypt issued by the U.S. Army to soldiers during World War II, and they used actual street names as Rocky made his way through Cairo.  Roman and Cool also pulled stories from current events coming out of the region.  The resulting scripts felt as at home in Egypt as Jack Webb’s Dragnet felt in Los Angeles. The series returned for a brief run in 1951 with 1930s movie star George Raft playing Rocky.  Ironically, Raft turned down the role of Rick in Casablanca, but he eventually played a similar role on this  series.

“Pursuit!  A criminal strikes and fades quickly back into the shadows of his own dark world.  And then, the man from Scotland Yard, the famous Inspector Peter Black, and the dangerous, relentless Pursuit!” Sherlock Holmes was not the only British detective to solve crimes stateside during the Golden Age of Radio.  A wave of mystery shows featuring Scotland Yard detectives cropped up on American radio in the post-World War II era.  The great Orson Welles hosted The Black Museum, a syndicated series that drew inspiration from Scotland Yard’s warehouse of evidence seized from murder scenes.  Basil Rathbone, Sherlock Holmes himself, got into the act as Inspector Burke on Mutual after he hung up his deerstalker cap.  And CBS offered Pursuit, a series without star power but one with sharp writing and top flight vocal performances from a crew of radio veterans. Pursuit grew out of an audition program for a series called The Hunters.  Developed by Anton M. Leader (who was coming off a run at the helm of Suspense), The Hunters starred Victor Jory as Scotland Yard’s Inspector Harvey in an adaptation of Cornell Woolrich’s short story “You Take Ballistics."  The Hunters didn’t take off, but the premise was reworked by producer William N. Robson.  Robson enlisted character actor Ted de Corsia to star as the renamed Inspector Peter Black. The actor was one of the most versatile in the world of west coast radio; de Corsia had a gift for dialects and accents and could be heard as an upper crust member of high society one week and as a fast-talking gunsel the next.  He delivered Inspector Black’s dialogue in an arch, clipped manner that recalled the voice of actor Ronald Colman.  Shortly after he left Pursuit, de Corsia played Lt. Levinson opposite Dick Powell on Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Pursuit featured scripts by radio veterans Morton Fine and David Friedkin (including the episode on the podcast this week), and supporting performances from Hollywood radio’s deep talent pool.  Actor Bill Johnstone (Lt. Ben Guthrie on The Line-Up) did double duty as Black’s superior Chief Inspector Harkness and as the show’s announcer. In 1950, Robson left the series.  The production was turned over to Elliot Lewis (the creative force behind Broadway is My Beat), who was also directing and producing Suspense on CBS.  Lewis reworked the show; he brought in Ben Wright as the star (Wright, a British born radio actor, was coming off of a run as Sherlock Holmes when he assumed the lead role on Pursuit).  Wright came by his British accent naturally, but like de Corsia he was a versatile actor and a master of different voices.  Though it was his natural voice that was often in demand, Wright also doubled as Asian characters on shows like Frontier Gentleman, The Green Llama, and as Hey Boy on Have Gun - Will Travel. Lewis made changes behind the scenes as well.  The orchestral scores that accompanied the earlier run of Pursuit were replaced by the organ music of Eddie Dunstedter, and he enlisted Antony Ellis to write scripts.  Lewis secured sponsorship from Wrigley’s Gum and from Sterling Products, makers of multiple drug store items such as Ironized Yeast and Molle shaving cream.  When the sponsorship ran out, so too did Pursuit, another victim of the increased attention (and advertising dollars) being paid to television. Pursuit had a relatively short run (less than 70 episodes aired on CBS), but the surviving episodes show some of the best writers, directors, and actors of the Golden Age of Radio doing some of their best work.  Even if it flew under audiences’ radar when it aired, Pursuit can thrill listeners today as Inspector Peter Black searches the streets of London for dangerous criminals.

On October 20, 1930, Sherlock Holmes arrived on radio, and he would remain on the airwaves for nearly two decades. Holmes of course was already popular from the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and a stage play that toured the country starring William Gillette as the sleuth. But it wasn’t until actress, writer, and producer Edith Meiser persuaded NBC to take a chance on the character’s radio prospects that Holmes made his way into homes throughout the United States. For nearly ten years before Basil Rathbone first donned the deerstalker cap in The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes was a mainstay on American radio. In honor of the anniversary of that first broadcast, I’ve compiled a list of my favorite radio adventures of the master detective of Baker Street. These episodes, a mix of Conan Doyle adaptations and original radio mysteries, will make a fine playlist as you celebrate the on-air career of Sherlock Holmes and his loyal friend and biographer, Dr. John H. Watson. “The Immortal Sherlock Holmes” – Technically not an episode of the Holmes radio series, but I think you’ll forgive my making an exception for Orson Welles. In this episode of The Mercury Theatre On the Air (a show that aired a month before the infamous “War of the Worlds” broadcast), Welles adapts and stars in a radio version of the Gillette play, a story that blends elements of several Holmes stories into one adventure pitting the sleuth against his nemesis Professor Moriarty. Ray Collins, years before he was Lt. Tragg on Perry Mason, narrates as Dr. Watson, and Eustace Wyatt plays Moriarty in this top-notch production from one of radio’s best dramatic anthologies. (Originally aired on CBS on September 25, 1938) “The Notorious Canary Trainer” – To generations of fans, Basil Rathbone is Sherlock Holmes. Rathbone made an indelible impression as the detective in fourteen films between 1939 and 1946, but he also starred in hundreds of radio episodes alongside Nigel Bruce in The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. These shows, written by Anthony Boucher and Denis Green, are fantastic, and one of the best is this original mystery about a murderer who confesses before he commits suicide, but there is no evidence of a killing beyond two dead canaries found at the scene. (Originally aired on Mutual on April 23, 1945) “The Second Generation” – One of the most famous stories in the Holmes canon is “A Scandal in Bohemia,” the tale that introduced Irene Adler. Known forever to Holmes as “the woman,” the beautiful and brilliant Adler has appeared in nearly all of the recent Holmes adaptations (the Robert Downey, Jr. films, Elementary, and Sherlock), and subsequent works have explored the exact nature of the relationship between Holmes and his lovely adversary. This Green and Boucher script acts as a sequel to “Bohemia” (a story they adapted on the series one week prior), and it tells of Holmes and Watson’s encounter with Irene’s daughter two decades later. One of the great things about the Green/Boucher run was they explored the entire timeline, with stories set in the early days of the Holmes/Watson partnership, some during the “great hiatus” after Holmes supposed death, and some in Holmes’ later years of semi-retirement as a beekeeper. “The Second Generation” is one of those “Holmes in twilight” stories, and it adds an additional level of emotion to the proceedings. (Originally aired on Mutual on December 17, 1945) “The Adventure of the Tolling Bell” – After Basil Rathbone left the role of Holmes in 1946, Tom Conway took over as the detective for one radio season. He stars as Holmes in this mystery set in the idyllic English countryside. A vacationing Holmes and Watson (Nigel Bruce) learn of a strange series of deaths in the village when they come to the aid of a young woman. Their investigation leads them to a demented villain’s reign of terror and a showdown in a church bell tower. It’s a classic example of the “small town with a secret” genre, and it proves once again (as Holmes said in “The Copper Beeches”) the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."  (Originally aired on ABC on April 7, 1947) “The Case of the Sudden Senility” – Listeners of the podcast will know that my favorite radio Holmes is John Stanley, and my favorite run of episodes is Stanley’s 1947-48 season – a year where he was supported by Alfred Shirley as Watson and performed scripts penned by Edith Meiser. In this Meiser original that serves as an unofficial sequel to Doyle’s “Silver Blaze,” Holmes and Watson investigate when a five year-old horse dies in his stable of old age. The case involves a black cat, a mysterious house, and an appearance from Holmes’ greatest enemy. (Originally aired on Mutual on January 11, 1948) “The Empty House” – Edith Meiser adapts the story that brought Holmes back from the dead. Watson has been soldiering on after Holmes’ apparent battle to the death with Moriarty, and he’s called in to consult on a baffling locked room murder case. It isn’t long before Holmes reveals his presence (in a wonderful scene that shows off John Stanley’s versatility, he plays an irascible bookworm who harangues Watson about his treatment of books) and explains the connection Watson’s case has to one of Moriarty’s most dangerous associates. (Originally aired on Mutual on April 11, 1948) “The Final Problem” – This one may have the greatest cast of any Holmes radio adaptation. John Gielgud is the great detective, Ralph Richardson is Dr. Watson, and special guest star Orson Welles is the Napoleon of crime – Professor Moriarty. Edith Meiser never adapted the story where Conan Doyle killed off his hero, but it was used for the 1955 British series from producer Harry Alan Towers. The entire Gielgud/Richardson series is superb, presenting wonderfully faithful adaptations of the original stories, but if you only listen to one episode make sure it’s this one. The showdown between Holmes and Moriarty in the detective’s rooms in Baker Street is a glorious scene played to the hilt by Gielgud and Welles (who may be the only actor who played both Sherlock Holmes and his greatest enemy on radio). Enjoy! And for more radio Holmes, check out Down These Mean Streets this Sunday for three original adventures starring John Stanley and Alfred Shirley.

“My name is Sherlock Holmes.  It is my business to know what other people do not know.” (“The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle”) You’d be hard pressed to find a more famous detective (any literary character, for that matter) more famous and known throughout the world than Sherlock Holmes.  Since the character’s introduction in A Study in Scarlet in 1887, his adventures have been reprinted around the globe; he has starred in films and television shows (indeed, at the time of this writing, there are two different shows that cast Holmes in the modern world and a third installment of a blockbuster film franchise starring the detective is in the works).  But the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his legendary consulting detective enjoyed a long life on radio and was a fixture during the World War II era as he simultaneously entertained audiences on the big screen. And his patron saint on the airwaves was an actress, singer, and writer named Edith Meiser.  Meiser had grown up reading the Conan Doyle stories, and she believed Sherlock Holmes’ adventures were a natural for radio.  She worked tirelessly to bring the stories to radio, and she succeeded in 1930 when her adaptation of “The Speckled Band” premiered on NBC on October 20.  William Gillette, who wrote and starred in a stage adaptation of Holmes, played Holmes in that first broadcast.  The series, which starred Richard Gordon, Louis Hector, and eventually Richard Gordon again, ran on NBC until 1936.  Through these different actors and series, Meiser remained a consistent hand at the wheel Holmes returned to the air following the success of the 1939 film version of The Hound of the Baskervilles.  NBC commissioned a new series to be written by Mesier and to star the actors from the film - Basil Rathbone as Holmes and Nigel Bruce as Watson.  This series, The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, premiered on NBC on October 2, 1939.  It ran until March 1, 1942, when it moved to the Mutual Network.  Most of the episodes were original adventures “suggested by” incidents in the original Conan Doyle stories.  When Meiser left the series in 1944, scripts were provided initially by Leslie Charteris (creator of “The Saint”) and Dennis Green.  When Charteris left to focus on bringing his own creation to radio, Anthony Boucher stepped in and co-wrote the series with Green. Rathbone, concerned about typecasting, left the role in 1946 after the final film in their series was released.  Nigel Bruce had no such concerns, and he stayed on in the part as producers brought in a new Holmes - actor Tom Conway.  As the veteran of the cast, Bruce received top billing for the 1946 - 1947 series, sponsored by Kremel Hair Tonic.  The Conway/Bruce series lasted 39 episodes before both actors left at the end of the season.  Rathbone’s departure coincided with Meiser’s return; many of her earlier scripts were re-used for Tom Conway and Nigel Bruce. The show came back for the 1947 - 1948 season with new actors at the microphones.  Alfred Shirley assumed the narration/sidekick duties as Dr. Watson, and John Stanley took over as Sherlock Holmes.  When some listeners heard Stanley in the role, they suspected one of Holmes’ famous disguises might be in use.  As Edith Meiser recalled, “Everyone thought that Basil Rathbone, who had said he would have nothing more to do with Sherlock Holmes, was now moonlighting as ‘John Stanley.’”  Stanley, she said, “was a darling who sounded exactly like Basil Rathbone.”  To this writer’s ears, Stanley outdoes his predecessors and emerges as the definitive radio Holmes.  His performances are far more polished than Rathbone’s, and Stanley is unencumbered by any of the baggage (such as frustration with the role) that Rathbone brought with him to the program.  Stanley was also admired by Holmes fans; he wrote a monograph on the pistols used by Holmes and Watson that appeared in the July 1948 issue of Black Maskmagazine.  And both he and Alfred Shirley were given wonderful lines by Edith Meiser. Unfortunately, this season of Sherlock Holmes proved to be Meiser’s last.  She was fired for, as she put it, refusing to put more violence into her scripts.  “The producers were always telling me to make Mr. Holmes more hardboiled,” she’d recall years later.  The show continued on without her, with a decidedly more modern feel to Holmes than what had come earlier, before leaving the airwaves in 1950.  John Stanley left the role in 1949 and he was followed by Ben Wright (later to star as an intrepid Scotland Yard inspector on Pursuit) before the airwaves in 1950. Holmes and Watson continued their radio adventures across the pond after they wrapped up on American radio.  John Gielgud and Ralph Richardson starred in an excellent series of Conan Doyle adaptations in 1955.  Co-produced by ABC, the series featured Orson Welles as Professor Moriarty in an adaptation of “The Final Problem.”  And of course, the character is still going strong on television (Sherlock and Elementary, which recast the sleuth in the modern world, draw millions of viewers) and in films (Robert Downey Jr.’s re-imagined take on the character has become a box office smash franchise).  But few of the writers who have adapted the character since his creation have been able to match Conan Doyle’s style in the way Edith Meiser pulled it off.  Thanks in no small part to her work, the Sherlock Holmes radio adventures are a must-listen for Sherlockians and fans of radio drama alike. 

Not all of the radio detectives were two-fisted tough guys, delivering purple dialogue through gritted teeth.  There were a number of sleuths who took a lighter approach to solving crimes, often aided by a girl Friday to allow for some flirtation along the way.  One of the best examples of the lighter school of radio detectives is the long running Let George Do It, a series that evolved from a comedy with a hint of mystery to a whodunit with a lighthearted touch. In his first outing as a radio detective, Bob Bailey (later the star of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar) played George Valentine, an ex-GI who seized upon an unusual method of finding post-war employment.  He placed an ad in the newspaper where he offered to take a job - any job - that would prove too risky for anyone else.  When the show premiered in 1946, George was backed up by a cast better suited for comedy than crime solving.  Joseph Kearns (later Mr. Wilson on TV’s Dennis the Menace) played Caleb, the elevator operator in George’s building; Eddie Firestone played George’s office boy, Sonny Brooks; and Frances Robinson as Sonny’s sister Claire, aka “Brooksie,” who became George’s girl Friday.  The earliest episodes found George in more comedic assignments than dangerous jobs, but as the show evolved the mystery element played a more prominent role.  Sonny left the team and the shows became driven more by the George/Brooksie duo.  The shows played like episodes of Richard Diamond, Private Detective if Diamond’s Park Avenue girlfriend Helen Asher accompanied him on his cases (this would really be the case when Virginia Gregg and Frances Robinson swapped roles later in the run; Gregg played Brooksie and Robinson played Helen!).  Often assisting the pair in their investigations was Lt. Riley of the police department.  Like other long-suffering foils of radio private eyes, Riley would initially roll his eyes when George arrived on the scene but would quickly embrace his help in closing a case.  Riley was played by the talented Wally Maher - a radio veteran who played Michael Shayne and supported Bill Johnstone on The Line-Up.  Sadly, he passed away at age 43 in 1951, leaving a hole in the Let George Do It team.  Actor Ken Christy joined the cast as Lt. Johnson, who while not outright hostile certainly saw Valentine as a hindrance rather than a help to an investigation.  And the usual stable of great Hollywood radio actors rounded out the guest casts every week, including Alan Reed, Jeff Chandler, Lurene Tuttle, Betty Lou Gerson, and Parley Baer. The 1950s saw not only a new police cohort but also a new tone for Let George Do It.  The tide had turned and audiences were demanding a grittier sound to their mysteries as police procedurals and hard-boiled private eyes littered the airwaves.  Even as scripts grew tougher, the cast continued to deliver strong performances, backed up by sharp scripts written by Herb Little, Jr., David Victor, and veteran mystery scripter Jackson Gillis, who would later pen thirty-two episodes of Perry Mason and eleven Columbo TV movies. Bailey would remain in the role until 1954 when production moved from Hollywood to New York.  Actor Olan Soule (later the voice of Batman in Filmation cartoons from the 1960s) played George for the final year of the series.  But Bob Bailey wouldn’t stay off the beat for long; in 1955, he kicked off a long run and cemented his place in radio history with his definitive portrayal of Johnny Dollar.  Before he starred in that series, however, he proved his chops as a radio leading man in a series that called for comedy, action, romance, and drama.  Just like George Valentine, Bob Bailey was the man for the job - no matter what it entailed.

“Okay, Shayne…get the picture.  A guy in front of you with a .38, a guy in back with a rifle.  And you with nothing.  If wishing will make it so, you better start wishing to be somewhere else fast because- (BLAM)” Under the pen name of “Brett Halliday,“ writer Davis Dresser introduced the world to Florida-based private eye Michael Shayne in Dividend on Death in 1939.  Dresser continued the adventures of his shamus for fifty novels and hundreds of short stories before farming out his pen name to a staff of writers who kept his character in print.  Unlike his contemporaries, Shayne started out as an atypical private detective; he was married, and his adventures were equal parts domestic comedy and deduction of clues.  But in 1943, Mrs. Shayne met an untimely end, the laughs fell by the wayside, and Michael Shayne was reinvented as a two-fisted, hard-nosed private eye.  The various radio, film, and television incarnations of the character oscillated between the two Shaynes, with some playing up the his-and-hers patter, and others doubling down on the hard-boiled intensity. Before Shayne came to radio, he hit the big screen.  Lloyd Nolan starred in a series of films for 20th Century Fox before Hugh Beaumont (Ward Cleaver himself) headlined a run for PRC.  Shayne first came to radio in 1944 in a West Coast series that eventually went national in 1946.  Radio character Wally Maher (heard as Sgt. Grebb on The Line-Up and as Lt. Riley on Let George Do It) starred as Shayne with Cathy Lewis as his secretary Phyllis Knight.  This series focused on the lighter aspects of the character, with well-developed characterizations for Shayne and Cathy.  The two would exchange flirtations as they solved their cases; imagine if Helen Asher accompanied Richard Diamond on his cases, and you’ll get the idea.  The Maher series ran until November 14, 1947.  When it ran its course, Shayne would be off the air for almost a year before he returned in a very different style and format, and it’s this series that is best remembered among radio fans. The New Adventures of Michael Shayne, directed by radio veteran Bill Rousseau, came to the air in 1948 for twenty-six syndicated episodes.  Rousseau had previously directed Jack Webb in the ultra-hard-boiled Pat Novak For Hire and he brought a similar tone to the revamped Shayneseries.  Each episode opened with a musical barrage, ratcheting up the tension before audiences heard a tease of the story to come.  Usually, it was Michael Shayne describing his latest tight spot, on the receiving end of a beating or facing down the business end of a gun.  This new series uprooted Shayne from Miami and plopped him down in New Orleans.  Phyllis Knight didn’t make the trip, but a rotating assortment of femme fatales and damsels in distress turned up to keep Shayne in and out of trouble.  Shayne took a licking and kept on ticking; Joe Mannix may be the only fictional private eye to rival Shayne in the injury department.  Rousseau’s old collaborator Jack Webb even joined the cast as Shayne’s police foil, Inspector LeFevre.  And stepping into the title role was Jeff Chandler, an actor selected by Rousseau out of a field of contenders. Chandler is well known to radio fans as bashful biology teacher (and 180 degrees away from Michael Shayne!) Philip Boynton on Our Miss Brooks, and his most famous film role as Cochise opposite Jimmy Stewart in Broken Arrow.  His first film role came opposite Dick Powell in Johnny O’Clock(1947), and he was a top leading man throughout the 1950s.  Sadly, his career was cut tragically short in 1961 when a botched operation for a spinal disc herniation resulted in his death at the age of 42. It’s a shame; his performance as Michael Shayne helps to ground a series that is otherwise pretty over the top.  Even throughout the beatings, the bullet wounds, the smoky dames and the snappy patter, Chandler’s Shayne is a down to earth guy with the right touch of humor behind his gritted teeth.  And his years on Our Miss Brooks demonstrate his comfort with comedy and versatility as an actor.  There’s no doubt he had decades of good work ahead of him, but we have 26 episodes of Michael Shayne to enjoy and celebrate the too-short life of this talented actor.  Along with Jack Webb, Chandler is supported in these shows by great radio talents like Larry Dobkin, Frank Lovejoy, Hans Conried, Vivi Jannis, and more.  A 1952 - 1953 ABC series starred Donald Curtis, and later Robert Sterling and Vinton Hayworth as Shayne, but the Chandler syndicated series continued to air all across the country during this period.  The Chandler episodes continued to run in several markets throughout the 1950s.  Not bad for a private eye who was usually in debt, on the verge of losing his license, and nursing a head injury. 

Gatewood sat down and looked at his host. Then he said: “I’m searching for somebody, Mr. Keen, whom you are not likely to find.” “I doubt it,” said Keen pleasantly. (Robert Chambers, The Tracer of Lost Persons) Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade, and Philip Marlowe may be the more famous names in the crime-solving pantheon, but one wry little old man outpaced them all when it came to radio casework. Mr. Keen was a radio institution, popping up in 1,690 installments between 1937 and 1955. Even Johnny Dollar, with his own 13 year run only turned in 811 expense accounts. The Energizer Bunny of radio detectives, Mr. Keen tirelessly toiled to reunite people with their missing loved ones and to make sure guilty parties met with justice. Churned out like the soap operas that made his producers famous, Mr. Keen’s adventures have been almost entirely lost, save for a small fraction of his hundreds of radio cases still available today. Years before he hit radio, Mr. Keen came out of the pages of The Tracer of Lost Persons, a collection of short stories by Robert W. Chambers. The vignettes penned by Chambers focus more on the clients of Westrel Keen than on the “tracer” himself. Many of his clients were in search of lost loves, adding a romantic melodramatic flavor to the stories. Chambers would gain more fame from The King in Yellow, a collection of supernatural stories that have inspired dozens from H.P. Lovecraft to the first season of HBO’s True Detective. This was not an introduction on par with Conan Doyle’s A Study in Scarlet, and Mr. Keen may have seemed an unlikely candidate for adaptation as a radio detective. Perhaps it was the romantic angle of the stories that drew the attention of the couple that - more than Chambers - would become the true architects of the character. Anne and Frank Hummert, a husband and wife duo who were some of the most influential players in early radio, were responsible for bringing Mr. Keen to the airwaves. The two started in radio with soap operas, and their genre-shaping hits included Just Plain Bill, Ma Perkins, and Young Widder Brown. The two met while working at the same advertising firm, and they married in 1935. The Hummerts formed their own production company after their marriage, and launched several shows including Mr. Keen. At one point, the Hummerts had 90 episodes of various serialized shows airing on radio each week. Radio historian Jim Cox estimated the Hummerts controlled 4.5 hours of national radio each week, and more than half of the advertising revenue generated by daytime radio. Mr. Keen was one of several mystery programs produced by the Hummerts. From the couple’s home, Anne Hummert outlined the plots for all of her shows; she was celebrated for her ability to remember every twist and turn of the labyrinthine plots of her soaps. These outlines were dispatched to the writers – or “dialoguers” – in the Hummert’s employ, who would turn the stories into actual scripts. The program’s earliest run resembled a soap opera in a three night a week, fifteen minute format. It aired in this serialized version from 1937 until 1943. In December 1943, CBS relaunched Mr. Keen as a 30 minute weekly program. It remained on the air until April 19, 1955, generating 1,690 episodes - far and away the leader of the pack of old time radio detectives. For most of the run, Keen was played by actor Bennett Kilpack, a stage and radio veteran who voiced Keen with a kindly charm. Providing the stereotypical lunkheaded sidekick support was Jim Kelly as Mike Clancy. The erstwhile Irishman’s favorite expression was “Saints preserve us!” whenever his boss shed light on a hidden clue. Though Kilpack was in the lead for most of the run, Keen was played later in the series by actors Philip Clarke and Arthur Hughes. Less than sixty of the Mr. Keen episodes survive, but the available episodes generally follow the same trajectory. The effect of churning out so many scripts can be heard in some of the repetitive aspects of the plots. A drinking game could be made for each time a character’s name is uttered in dialogue (“Would you believe it, Mr. Keen?” “Frankly, no, Miss Smith,” etc.), but there’s a good chance the listener would be passed out in a stupor before the first commercial break. The clichéd plots and dialogue inspired parodies, including Mr. Trace, Keener Than Most Persons from radio satirists Bob and Ray. So – in a world where we have Howard Duff as Sam Spade, Gerald Mohr as Philip Marlowe, and Bob Bailey as Johnny Dollar – is Mr. Keen worth a listen to a modern audience? I think so. The world of radio detectives included an array of characters and behind-the-scenes talents, each catering to a different segment of the audience. There is a healthy appetite for cozier puzzle mysteries that’s as strong as the desire for two-fisted private eyes and femmes fatale. And Bennett Kilpack – the Mr. Keen of most of the surviving shows – is very good in the role. His voice has a homespun, old-timer quality, similar in some respects to Titus Moody on The Fred Allen Show, but a steely determination sneak in when he’s facing down a culprit. Another (albeit more cynical) view is that you need the mediocre offerings to underscore what is so good about the top of the heap.

For a single season (1953 - 1954), the greatest singer of the twentieth century headlined a radio detective show.  Hard as it may be to believe that the Chairman of the Board would slum it on a weekly series, Frank Sinatra starred as Rocky Fortune for a one year run.  The series came to the air during a rare slump in Sinatra’s storied career, finding the singer and actor in a transition period from his days as a crooner and bobbysoxer idol to his establishment as one of the most popular entertainers of all time. In 1953, Sinatra was divorced and hurting publicly after leaving his wife Nancy for actress Ava Gardner.  He’d been dropped from his contract at Columbia Records, and his big screen career was floundering.  After commanding six figure salaries for films just a few years before, he had to beg for an audition for a supporting role in From Here to Eternity.  That film opened in August 1953, and just a few months later Sinatra hit NBC in the premiere episode of Rocky Fortune. The series was created by George Lefferts (who would later create and develop NBC’s sci-fi revival X Minus One) at Sinatra’s request.  Lefferts recalled his first meeting with Sinatra at the singer’s home, where the crooner was clad in only a towel.  Lefferts was an in-house writer at NBC, and he was tapped by Sinatra to develop a mystery series in which Sinatra could star.  It wasn’t completely unheard of for major stars to head to radio.  Alan Ladd produced and starred in Box 13, and Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall lent their voices each week to Bold Venture, but both of those series were syndicated and had a schedule that was more star-friendly.  Sinatra would be appearing on network radio, perhaps a sign that his star had faded and not quite ascended again in late 1953. Rocky was not a cop or a private eye.  Rather he was a “footloose and frequently unemployed young gentleman” who bounced from job to job lined up for him by the Grindley Employment Agency.  Later episodes revised the description to “footloose and fancy free,” which conjures up less images of Rocky as a hobo.  Each week, no matter where he ended up, Rocky would usually find trouble on his quest for a paycheck.  He could be shucking oysters, barking at a carnival, or leading a bus tour of New York, odds were he would stumble over a dead body, interrupt a robbery in progress, or get strong-armed into playing unwilling accomplice for a criminal enterprise.  Often, he’d run up against the aptly named Sgt. Hamilton J. Finger (played by several actors but most frequently by Barney Phillips), who was always ready to point one assigning blame at Rocky for whatever he’d happened into that week.  Lefferts and his fellow writer Ernest Kinoy wrote up adventures that took Rocky Fortune across town, across the country, and even on the high seas.  (In the episode we’ll hear on this week’s podcast, Rocky is hired as a babysitter for a vindictive drunk of a theater critic who has trouble staying awake during the shows he’s assigned to review.  Unfortunately, under Rocky’s watchful eye the man ends up dead in an aisle seat during an intermission!) The show suffered from poor reviews when it premiered (though Sinatra’s performance was praised by Variety, among others), and today it is dismissed by some as a lesser effort from both Sinatra and the Golden Age of Radio.  This writer respectfully disagrees with these harsh assessments.  Rocky Fortune is a lot of fun, and it’s an opportunity to hear Sinatra in his only regular dramatic role on radio.  He was a frequent guest of Jack Benny and other radio comedians, and he made a memorable turn on Suspense, but Rocky Fortune stands as the best showcase of Sinatra’s dramatic vocal range in the radio era.  He finds the right amount of humor and dramatic tension in each show, and he could have continued in the series had his own fortunes grown less rocky in 1954.  Just days before the final episode of Rocky Fortune aired, Sinatra won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in From Here to Eternity, and he was off and running with a new recording contract at Capitol Records.  Bouncing from job to job as Rocky Fortune wasn’t in the cards anymore and the series left NBC on March 30, 1954.  Today, it’s an interesting footnote in Sinatra’s career, and another fine detective show that brought a big screen star to weekly radio.

Of all the actors to play private eyes and gumshoes during the Golden Age of Radio, William Gargan may have been the most uniquely qualified. Ironically, while success as a detective seemed to elude him, he enjoyed a great deal of success by playing detectives on film, television, and radio. His father was a bookie, and as a boy Gargan would accompany him when he made his collection and payment rounds. During Prohibition, he dropped out of school and became a salesman of bootleg liquor to speakeasies in New York; his sales partner during this time was Dave Chasen, who would later go on to open Hollywood’s Brown Derby restaurant. The two would remain lifelong friends. For a time, Gargan worked as a collection agent for a department store. On one of his jobs, he was shot at by an irate customer. He lost another job as an operative for a detective agency when the subject he was assigned to follow eluded the tail. Gargan found more success as an actor than he did as a detective. He turned to acting in the 1920s and appeared in dozens of films, including two turns as Ellery Queen in 1942. In 1946, Gargan had his first run at radio crimesolving, starring as private eye Ross Dolan in ABC’s I Deal in Crime (launched alongside another ABC detective series, The Fat Man with J. Scott Smart). That series only ran for eleven months, but Gargan found more success a few years later on NBC radio and TV as Martin Kane, Private Eye. Gargan starred in the radio and TV series for two years before frustration over the quality of the scripts drove him out. As Gargan later recalled in his 1969 autobiography, “Very soon in the game, I realized our stories were nothing to rave about. How much well plotted story line and genuine character development can you accomplish in a half-hour? So I made the program a showcase for me. After all, that was what we were selling - Martin Kane. I developed a tongue-in-cheek style, a spoof of the hard-boiled detective, a way of silently saying, ‘Don’t blame me for the lousy stories, I didn’t write them. And anyway, what’s the difference? Relax.’” Given his attitude towards the caliber of radio detective scripts, it may come as a surprise that Gargan came back for another run as a radio shamus. Maybe it was because he was past his leading man prime in 1951 when the offer was made to star in a new series on NBC. It might have been the money that was on the table; NBC brought him to their network with a $1 million contract for five years. The deal covered the new series and other radio and TV appearances. The series was launched as part of NBC’s silver anniversary celebration under the title The Adventures of Barrie Crane. Gargan used the spelling of his own son’s name for the title character, and while the character’s surname switched to “Craig,” the characterization was intact from the beginning. Craig was a wry, sly operator in the mold of Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade. He narrated his adventures with a tongue in cheek style that kept the hard boiled business in check. He was loyal to his clients and friendly with the police (in the person of Ralph Bell’s Lt. Rogers). From 1951 until July 1954, Barrie Craig was broadcast from NBC in New York. For the last run of the series, production shifted to Hollywood. It left the air in September 1954 but returned for a 39 week run beginning in October before Barry Craig closed his last case. Sadly, William Gargan’s acting career came to an end only a few years after Barry Craig left the air. He returned as Martin Kane for 39 syndicated episodes in 1957, but throat cancer diagnosed in 1958 ended his work on the screen. Doctors removed his larynx in 1960 and he was outfitted with a voice box. He spent the remaining years of his life as a crusader and activist for the American Cancer Society, cautioning against the dangers of smoking. The Screen Actors Guild honored his career and his philanthropic work when it awarded Gargan with their lifetime achievement award in 1967. He passed away at age 73 in 1979. Cancer may have taken William Gargan’s voice, but his talent and his performances will live forever in these wonderful mystery shows from the Golden Age of Radio.

Even if you don’t know his name, chances are you know William Conrad’s voice.  You may know it from the jovial narrations of the adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle or the somber voice-over that followed Richard Kimble, The Fugitive.  Maybe you’ll recall his heavyset but still hard-nosed private eye Frank Cannon or the rascally courtroom antics of J.L. “Fatman” McCabe.   Or you may remember him as Matt Dillon, “the first man they look for and the last they want to meet,” on the old time radio classic Gunsmoke.  Audiences had ample opportunities to meet the actor in his five decades in show business, and it all began when he was born September 27, 1920. Conrad was born John William Cann, Jr. in Lexington, Kentucky, and he began a career in radio as an announcer and writer for a Los Angeles station before he entered the Air Force in World War II.  Like other radio professionals who were enlisted men, he worked with the Armed Forces Radio Service.  After the war, Conrad was in demand as a supporting radio player.  He could be heard in a variety of roles, with a seemingly endless variety of accents and characterizations, on shows like Escape, Suspense, The Man Called X, and The Adventures of Sam Spade.  Some believed he was heard a little too often, and perceived overexposure almost cost Conrad a shot at what would prove to be his biggest radio role. Producer-director Norman Macdonnell had been tasked by CBS President William Paley to develop a series that would be a “Philip Marlowe of the Old West."  Paley was a big fan of Macdonnell’s The Adventures of Philip Marlowe starring Gerald Mohr, and wanted a show with a similar feel. (Coincidentally, Bill Conrad filled in for Gerald Mohr and played Marlowe in "The Anniversary Gift," the April 11, 1950 episode of the series. You can hear it in Episode 43 of the podcast.)   Up until that point, radio westerns were primarily kids’ stuff.  The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, and others rode the range in what amounted to little more than B-movie entertainment (no knock against those shows; it is thrilling to hear the Ranger and Tonto chase down bandits, but compelling drama it is not).  Just as Jack Webb brought grit and realism to the police drama with Dragnet, Macdonnell and scriptwriter John Meston saw an opportunity to revitalize the western.  When it came time to cast their lead of Matt Dillon, the US Marshal who tried to keep the peace in the "suburb of hell” known as Dodge City, Kansas - Meston pushed hard for William Conrad.  CBS had other ideas. Conrad recalled years later, “I think when they started casting for it, somebody said, ‘Good Christ, let’s not get Bill Conrad, we’re up to you-know-where with Bill Conrad.'  So they auditioned everybody, and as a last resort they called me.  And I went in and read about two lines…and the next day they called me and said, 'Okay, you have the job.’” Gunsmoke premiered on April 26, 1952, with a powerful script involving Matt Dillon facing down a lynch mob.  The episode (listen to it here) erases any doubts as to whether William Conrad was the right choice for the role.  Backing him up every week was one of radio’s strongest regular casts.  Parley Baer was Dillon’s easygoing deputy Chester Proudfoot; Howard McNear was the wry Doc Addams; and Georgia Ellis was Kitty, the saloon owner (and, although it was never explicitly said on the show, prostitute) and Matt’s love interest.  Rounding out the supporting company every week was a repertory company of actors assembled by Macdonnell, including John Dehner, Larry Dobkin, and Harry Bartell. There were attempts to bring Gunsmoke to TV as early as 1953, and by 1955 CBS was ready to move ahead.  Conrad, Baer, Ellis, and McNear were given token auditions, but none were seriously considered to reprise their roles on the small screen.  Conrad never had a shot due to his growing obesity; the network believed viewers wouldn’t believe the short, heavy actor as the rugged hero, even though he effortlessly sold the role on radio.  Losing the role to James Arness left Conrad embittered.  He’d continue to work in radio until the end of network radio drama in 1962, and he went on to a career off-camera in television.  Conrad directed episodes of Have Gun - Will Travel, 77 Sunset Strip, and even the TV version of Gunsmoke.  He narrated the adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and the exploits of Richard Kimble on The Fugitive (it’s from his prologue to that series that we get our podcast title this week - “Fate moves its huge hand.”) A starring role on the small screen came at last in 1971 when Conrad starred as the titular character in Quinn Martin’s Cannon.  It was the glorious era of "gimmick" TV detectives - Longsteet was blind, Barnaby Jones was old, Kojak was bald, and Frank Cannon was...portly. But Conrad's performance elevated the series above the "fat detective" concept. The private eye drama ran for five seasons and earned Conrad two Emmy Award nominations.  Conrad gave TV one of its most memorable detectives, and Cannon’s adventures continue to air today in syndication.   There was an attempt to revive Cannon with a 1980 TV movie, and the following year Conrad played Nero Wolfe in a short-lived series on NBC.  Conrad was a tremendous fan of the character, and you can tell he's having a ball opposite Lee Horsley's Archie Goodwin. Unfortunately, the series only aired for 13 episodes before it was cancelled. Following a well-received turn as a D.A. opposite Andy Griffith on Matlock, Conrad returned to the small screen in a starring role in 1987 with Jake and the Fatman.  Conrad played J.L. “Fatman” McCabe, a Los Angeles prosecutor who relied on investigator Jake Stiles (Joe Penny) to do his legwork (shades of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin again).  The show ran until 1992. Conrad passed away February 11, 1994 at the age of 73.  In 1997, he was posthumously inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame.  With thousands of performances across dozens of shows, Conrad’s voice will live forever, wherever Rocky and Bullwinkle get into misadventures or whenever Matt Dillon is forced to draw his gun to keep the peace.

"The man in the saddle is angular and long-legged. His skin is sun-dyed brown. The gun in his holster is gray steel and rainbow mother-of-pearl, its handle unmarked. People call them both 'the Six Shooter.'" Today in 1953, James Stewart rode on to the radio range as Britt Ponset, the wandering plainsman and infamous gunfighter known far and wide as The Six Shooter. In his only regular starring role in a radio dramatic series, Stewart lent his trademark screen persona to the character of Ponset, a hero who had to reluctantly live up to his reputation as he traveled the plains. With Stewart's amazing performance in the title role, engrossing scripts, and a talented troupe of supporting players, The Six Shooter stands up today as one of the finest frontier offerings from the Golden Age of Radio. Each week, Ponset drifted into a new town and a new adventure. He encountered everything from gunslingers looking for revenge to a dangerous sibling rivalry on a cattle drive to being strong-armed into marriage. Whether the story of the week was intense and dramatic or played for laughs, Stewart was an amiable hero. His drawl was put to excellent use as the show's narrator, and he would drop his voice to a whisper as Ponset crept up on a gun-toting villain. The series was created by Frank Burt, the writer who two years later penned Stewart's film western The Man from Laramie, and it was directed by Jack Johnstone (who later helmed the Bob Bailey era of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar). Despite the caliber of talent on and behind the microphone, the show ended after only 39 episodes. For most of its run The Six Shooter aired without sponsorship, but it wasn't because potential sponsors weren't interested. Jack Johnstone later recalled  "Chesterfield begged and begged and begged for months trying to get sponsorship, but Jim didn’t feel that, because of his screen image, it would be fair for him to be sponsored by a cigarette." Without sponsorship, even the best shows fell to the rise of television in the early 1950s, and Britt Ponset rode off into the sunset on June 24, 1954.

Academy Award-winning actor Edmond O’Brien was born September 10, 1915. In a career that spanned five decades, O’Brien was one of the all-time great character actors of the big and small screens. But to old time radio fans, O’Brien is best known as “the man with the action-packed expense account” – Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar. O’Brien starred as Dollar from 1950 to 1952, and to many fans (this writer included), he’s second only to Bob Bailey in the ranking of actors who played “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator.” O’Brien worked onstage before he made his film debut in The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939). It led to a long film career where he turned in memorable performances in White Heat and – in a kind of test run for Johnny Dollar, O’Brien starred in The Killers (1946) as an insurance investigator probing the murder of Burt Lancaster’s Swede. In 1950, O’Brien starred in one of his most famous movies – the film noir classic D.O.A. where he played a poisoned man investigating his own murder. That same year, O’Brien assumed the title role on Johnny Dollar and he would star as the sleuth for 103 episodes. O’Brien succeeded Charles Russell, who voiced Dollar for the program’s first year. Russell was sardonic and sly, a lighthearted character more in the vein of a Dick Powell radio detective (Richard Diamond or Richard Rogue of Rogue’s Gallery). As played by Russell, Johnny Dollar was described “at insurance investigation, he’s only an expert. At making out his expense account, he’s an absolute genius.” The tongue-in-cheek grifter aspects of the character were exiled when Edmond O’Brien stepped in. His Johnny Dollar was no-nonsense, two-fisted, and tough. It wasn’t hard to imagine him taking hits from an office bottle while he waited for the phone to ring and bring him a new assignment. Interestingly, O’Brien had a shot at a radio series one year earlier. In May 1949, he recorded an audition program for Night Beat in the role that would eventually be played by Frank Lovejoy. While I think O’Brien would have been good in that show, I think his tougher approach was better suited for Johnny Dollar. Frank Lovejoy’s more compassionate take was a better fit for the character and the series. Elsewhere on radio, O’Brien made four visits to Suspense (“radio’s outstanding theater of thrills”) and he could be heard on Family Theatre and The Lux Radio Theatre. One of his memorable appearances on Lux came in the program’s November 28, 1949 recreation of Key Largo with O’Brien playing the Humphrey Bogart role in John Huston’s film. Throughout the 1950s and his tenure on Johnny Dollar, O’Brien continued to appear in films but his fluctuating weight made it difficult for him to get leading roles. He continued to do strong character work – as a mobster in Pete Kelly’s Blues and in an Oscar-winning turn opposite Ava Gardner and Humphrey Bogart in The Barefoot Contessa. He’d pick up a second nomination for what I consider one of his all-time best performances – as an alcoholic Senator enlisted to defeat a military coup against the President in John Frankenheimer’s Seven Days in May (1964). O’Brien transitioned into television in the 50s even as he continued to star on the big screen. He played another private eye in the syndicated series Johnny Midnight (1959-60) and he starred as a flamboyant San Francisco attorney in Sam Benedict. The single-season show was created by E. Jack Neumann, a veteran radio writer who’d penned episodes for Johnny Dollar during O’Brien’s run on the show. Elsewhere on television, O’Brien made guest appearances on many classic shows of the 60s and 70s, including Mission: Impossible, The Streets of San Francisco, and McMillan and Wife. His final credits came in 1974 before memory problems (later diagnosed as Alzheimer’s Disease) led him to retirement. Alzheimer’s would ultimately claim him at age 69 on May 9, 1985. Though he died far too young and was forced to retire before his time, Edmond O’Brien left behind a legacy of amazing performances both on screen and on radio in over 100 episodes of “action-packed expense accounts” as Johnny Dollar.

"It's smooth - so smooth! It's slick - so slick! It's the smooth, smooth, slick, slick shave you get with M-O-L-L-É!" Presenting "the best in mystery and detective fiction," The Mollé Mystery Theatre premiered on radio on September 7, 1943. Like Suspense, the Mystery Theatre presented dramas designed to deliver thrills and chills pulled from the best authors of the genre and stocked with some of the best actors working in radio. But where Suspense raided the movie studios of Hollywood for its special guest stars, the Mystery Theatre rounded out its casts with the talented men and women working in New York radio.  In a departure, the master of ceremonies wasn't a sinister storyteller in the vein of The Whistler, The Mysterious Traveler, or the Man in Black from Suspense. The weekly tales were introduced by "Geoffrey Barnes," billed as a criminologist and master of crime. For most of the run, Barnes was played by the talented New York actor Bernard Lenrow. Lenrow was no stranger to the world of radio mysteries. Listeners could hear him elsewhere on the dial as Captain Logan in Casey, Crime Photographer, as Inspector Lestrade in The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and as Commissioner Weston in The Shadow.  Each week, Barnes introduced stories from writers like Raymond Chandler, Cornell Woolrich, Richard Connell, and even an up-and-coming writer named Ray Bradbury. The casts included stalwart radio players like Berry Kroeger, Martin Gabel, June Havoc, Frank Lovejoy, Elspeth Eric, Bud "Superman" Collyer, and Richard Widmark, only a few years away from his breakout Oscar-nominated film debut in Kiss of Death. The series picked up Mollé ("Mo-lay") Brushless Shaving Cream as a sponsor (and acquired one of radio's best jingles delivered by announcer Dan Seymour), but many of the episodes of the show that survive today come from the Armed Forces Radio Service. The AFRS stripped the show of its commercials and aired it as part of its Mystery Playhouse wheel series. Servicemen and women could tune into the Mystery Playhouse and hear installments of the Mystery Theatre alongside adventures of Mr. and Mrs. North and The Thin Man. Peter Lorre served as the host for those broadcasts, opening the series with a tongue in cheek greeting of "Hello, creeps!" Back on Episode 131, we heard an episode of the The Mollé Mystery Theatre - a radio adaptation of L.G. Blochman's "Red Wine." Here are a few more episodes to enjoy on the anniversary of the series premiere: "Murder in the City Hall" - In this story from Raymond Chandler, political pressure and scandal plague a cop as he tries to nab the killer of a judicial candidate. (Originally aired on April 5, 1946)  "Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper" - Peter Lorre hosts this one from the AFRS Mystery Playhouse - the story of the hunt for Jack the Ripper in 1945 Chicago. "A Crime to Fit the Punishment" - In between flights as the Man of Steel, Bud Collyer plays an antique dealer and amateur detective in this mystery.

Somebody, I say, somebody get a cake and candles. Kenny Delmar was born September 5, 1910. He was born in Boston, an unlikely birthplace for a man who made a name for himself as Beauregard Claghorn, the blustery senator from south of the Mason-Dixon line and longtime resident of Allen's Alley. Born into a vaudeville family, Delmar made his stage debut before he was ten years old. He pursued a career in radio, and by the late 1930s he was already being heard all over the dial. He voiced Commissioner Weston opposite Bill Johnstone on The Shadow, and he voiced several characters in the infamous War of the Worlds broadcast from Orson Welles' Mercury Theatre. Fans of that program will recognize Delmar as the "Secretary of the Interior" who sounds suspiciously like then-President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Delmar was a skilled impressionist who played world leaders on The March of Time and Cavalcade of America. But his most famous radio role came when he made his first appearance as Senator Claghorn on The Fred Allen Show. Delmar was also the show's announcer even as he portrayed the proud son of the South who only drank out of Dixie Cups and refused to drive through the Lincoln Tunnel. The character proved to be so popular that Delmar reprised the role in commercials and even in a film - It's a Joke Son! from 1947.

There are several old time radio actors who can best be described, in my opinion, as "the glue." Rarely featured in the lead, they're versatile, talented performers who can make a character come to life in only a few lines, and their dynamic presence holds many a show together all these years later. The actor who springs to mind first whenever I think of this class of performer is Wally Maher. Born August 4, 1908, Maher was one of those actors who, when compiling a list of their credits, it may be easier to list the shows on which he didn't appear. Maher's many credits include turns on Suspense, Sam Spade, Richard Diamond, The Lux Radio Theatre, Johnny Dollar, Nero Wolfe...the list goes on and on. He'd no doubt have had an equally impressive run in television through the 1950s and 1960s were it not for a tragic and premature end to his career. After coming to Hollywood in the 1930s, Maher found his talents as a mimic made him a natural for radio. He practically became a piece of the furniture on The Lux Radio Theatre and he could be heard in supporting performances on many of the dramatic anthology shows. His workload increased during the war years; Maher was kept out of the service by chronic lung problems, but he didn't let his ailment slow him down on radio. In 1946, he was cast as Brett Halliday's private eye Michael Shayne in a popular radio detective series. Though the character would later be played with ultra-hard boiled intensity by Jeff Chandler, Maher's Michael Shayne was less two-fisted and more quick-witted. Beginning in 1948, he co-starred with Bob Bailey in Let George Do It. Maher played Lt. Riley, the token police department buddy of Bailey's titular private eye, but as voiced by Maher Lt. Riley wasn't the cliched thick-headed cop. He had a colorful presence and a wonderful rapport with Bailey and fellow co-star Frances Robinson. And during all of this time, Maher was still appearing regularly on The Whistler, Suspense, and more. In 1950, he found another gig as a radio cop when he played Sgt. Matt Grebb in The Line-Up. Maher oversaw the titular line-up of criminals that opened each episode, and he was the easy-going family man partner of Bill Johnstone's stoic Lt. Ben Guthrie. Their camaraderie and chemistry helps to make the program one of the best the era had to offer. And that fall, Maher was the first of six actors to co-star as Archie Goodwin with Oscar nominee Sydney Greenstreet in his single season run as Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe. Unfortunately, the lung ailment that dogged him his entire life caught up with him in December 1951. He'd had one lung removed the year before and he worked almost until the day he died - December 27, 1951 at age 43. It's a terrible tragedy that we were robbed of what should have been a much longer career for Wally Maher, but we're lucky to have so many of his wonderful performances preserved from his busy years in front of the microphone.

“That was the shot that killed Harry Lime. He died in a sewer beneath Vienna, as those of you know who saw the movie ‘The Third Man.’ Yes, that was the end of Harry Lime…but it was not the beginning. Harry Lime had many lives, and I can recount all of them. How do I know? Very simple. Because my name is Harry Lime.” He’s on screen for a scant ten minutes, but one of Orson Welles’ most celebrated performances comes in The Third Man. As Harry Lime, Welles plays a rogue of the worst order: a man who dilutes much-needed penicillin and sells it to the sick and wounded of post-war Vienna; a man who fakes his own death and keeps his ever-loyal girlfriend in the dark; and a man who preys on the kindness of his friends to advance his own self-interest. He’s a villain, and his lack of remorse only makes his actions more dastardly. Given all of that (and his death at the end of the film), Harry Lime seems an unlikely character to anchor a series. But it’s a testament to the genius of Orson Welles that Harry Lime became one of radio’s unlikeliest heroes with adventures that premiered in America today in 1951. Harry’s story begins with writer Graham Greene (Our Man in Havana, The Confidential Agent) and director Carol Reed collaborating on the screenplay for the film The Third Man. Their story centers on Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten), a pulp western writer who travels to a divided postwar Vienna in response to a job offer from his old friend Harry Lime. Upon arriving in the city, Martins learns Lime died just days earlier, and he is surprised to learn Lime was a man wanted by the British military police. Martins launches his own investigation into Lime’s mysterious death and soon learns that Lime isn’t dead at all. It all culminates in a chase beneath the city streets, where Harry Lime - the once untouchable criminal kingpin - must descend to the sewers to escape authorities from four nations. Most of Lime’s screen time comes in a legendary sequence set on Vienna’s Wiener Riesenrad Ferris wheel. In the carriage with Martins, Lime indifferently admits his crimes and coldly reveals the depths of his greed. His view of the world and his place in it is best summed up in the film in lines added to the script by Orson Welles himself: “You know what the fellow said – in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace – and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.” The film was a smash success in both the United Kingdom and the United States. Welles won some of his best notices in years, though he missed the opportunity for a sizable payday from the project. He was offered a percentage of the film’s gross profits but he declined in favor of a salary paid on the spot. Even if he didn’t get rich, the reception of the film must have reassured Welles after several box office disappointments prompted him to flee Hollywood to Europe. The movie also made an unlikely star of Viennese musician Anton Karas. Discovered in a tavern by director Carol Reed, Karas was enlisted to provide the film’s score of zither music. Karas’ “Third Man Theme” became one of the most popular records in the UK and the States and turned the mild-mannered Karas into an international star. Jump ahead to 1951, where Welles (still in Europe) was approached by producer Harry Alan Towers about starring in several radio projects. Not to be outdone by his star, Towers was a larger than life character in his own right. He formed his own production company and distributed radio and television programs in England and all around the world. In the 1960s, he was accused of operating a prostitution ring in New York and of being a Soviet spy. He fled to Europe where he continued to work producing films. In Welles, he saw a source of talent who was more than a little desperate. Welles was digging himself out of debt and taking on work where he could find it to raise funds for passion projects of his own. Towers signed Welles for three series: the first was a Scotland Yard crime drama called The Black Museum, which Welles would narrate and host. The second was a Sherlock Holmes series starring John Gielgud and Ralph Richardson; Welles would play Professor Moriarty in the program’s adaptation of “The Final Problem.” The third was a series which would continue the adventures of Harry Lime. Towers discovered the rights to the character of Harry Lime were still available, and he and Welles set to work developing a prequel series that would follow Lime around the world before the events of the film. It was a challenge to retain the spirit of Harry Lime as he was conceived by Graham Greene while also making him a palatable lead for a series. The solution came by dialing back the character’s less savory tendencies. Harry is still a rogue, but he’s the least odious rogue in the room. He’ll cheat someone out of their savings or pocket a diamond necklace, but this Lime is a far cry from the unrepentant fiend whose greed causes the deaths of Viennese children. It’s telling that several episodes hinge on Lime being retained to put his criminal mind to work in stopping other criminals, whether it’s to thwart a bank robbery or to recover incriminating photographs from a blackmailer. Lime’s adventures take him all over the world, from Havana to Budapest, from New York to Naples. In this respect, Harry Lime acts in several episodes as a private detective…albeit one on the wrong side of the law. Accompanying him every step of the way is the memorable zither music of Anton Karas; the score was carried over from the film, and it’s almost impossible to think of Harry Lime without thinking of Karas’ music. Welles is credited as the writer for several shows (including the episode featured on this week’s podcast). One of his scripts, “Man of Mystery,” found Lime hired by a reclusive business tycoon to investigate the man’s past. He claimed to have no memory of his younger life, and Harry embarks on a worldwide hunt for answers. Welles reworked the story into his 1955 film Mr. Arkadin. Welles starred in 52 episodes of the series and threw himself into the work with the passion that marked his earliest radio performances. He’s droll, dangerous, and always fascinating to hear. Today, anti-heroes are far more common. Audiences root for characters to succeed in their nefarious enterprises and evade the consequences of their actions, but in 1951 this was a riskier gamble. Harry Alan Towers deserves the credit for snatching up the rights and pitching the series, but it is the magnetic, captivating performance of Orson Welles that made the dastardly Lime into someone listeners would be happy to conspire with week after week.

William Gargan, who brought a wry cynicism to his characters on radio, was born today in 1905. Of all the actors to play private eyes and gumshoes during the Golden Age of Radio, Gargan may have been the most uniquely qualified. Ironically, while success as a detective seemed to elude him, he enjoyed a great deal of success by playing detectives on film, television, and radio. His father was a bookie, and as a boy Gargan would accompany him when he made his collection and payment rounds. During Prohibition, he dropped out of school and became a salesman of bootleg liquor to speakeasies in New York; his sales partner during this time was Dave Chasen, who would later go on to open Hollywood’s Brown Derby restaurant. The two would remain lifelong friends. For a time, Gargan worked as a collection agent for a department store. On one of his jobs, he was shot at by an irate customer. He lost another job as an operative for a detective agency when the subject he was assigned to follow eluded the tail. Gargan found more success as an actor than he did as a detective. He turned to acting in the 1920s and appeared in dozens of films, including two turns as Ellery Queen in 1942. In 1946, Gargan had his first run at radio crimesolving, starring as private eye Ross Dolan in ABC’s I Deal in Crime (launched alongside another ABC detective series, The Fat Man with J. Scott Smart). That series only ran for eleven months, but Gargan found more success a few years later on NBC radio and TV as Martin Kane, Private Eye. Gargan starred in the radio and TV series for two years before frustration over the quality of the scripts drove him out. As Gargan later recalled in his 1969 autobiography, “Very soon in the game, I realized our stories were nothing to rave about. How much well plotted story line and genuine character development can you accomplish in a half-hour? So I made the program a showcase for me. After all, that was what we were selling - Martin Kane. I developed a tongue-in-cheek style, a spoof of the hard-boiled detective, a way of silently saying, ‘Don’t blame me for the lousy stories, I didn’t write them. And anyway, what’s the difference? Relax.’” Given his attitude towards the caliber of radio detective scripts, it may come as a surprise that Gargan came back for another run as a radio shamus. Maybe it was because he was past his leading man prime in 1951 when the offer was made to star in a new series on NBC. It might have been the money that was on the table; NBC brought him to their network with a $1 million contract for five years. The deal covered the new series and other radio and TV appearances. The series was launched as part of NBC’s silver anniversary celebration under the title The Adventures of Barrie Crane. Gargan used the spelling of his own son’s name for the title character, and while the character’s surname switched to “Craig,” the characterization was intact from the beginning. Craig was a wry, sly operator in the mold of Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade. He narrated his adventures with a tongue in cheek style that kept the hard boiled business in check. He was loyal to his clients and friendly with the police (in the person of Ralph Bell’s Lt. Rogers). From 1951 until July 1954, Barrie Craig was broadcast from NBC in New York. For the last run of the series, production shifted to Hollywood. It left the air in September 1954 but returned for a 39 week run beginning in October before Barry Craig closed his last case. Sadly, William Gargan’s acting career came to an end only a few years after Barry Craig left the air. He returned as Martin Kane for 39 syndicated episodes in 1957, but throat cancer diagnosed in 1958 ended his work on the screen. Doctors removed his larynx in 1960 and he was outfitted with a voice box. He spent the remaining years of his life as a crusader and activist for the American Cancer Society, cautioning against the dangers of smoking. The Screen Actors Guild honored his career and his philanthropic work when it awarded Gargan with their lifetime achievement award in 1967. He passed away at age 73 in 1979. Cancer may have taken William Gargan’s voice, but his talent and his performances will live forever in these wonderful mystery shows from the Golden Age of Radio.

“I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble.” (Sam Spade, The Maltese Falcon Dashiell Hammett wasn’t just a writer of detective fiction; he was a real-life detective who also happened to pen some of the greatest mystery novels of the 20th century. His mind and pen brought readers the rough and tumble Continental Op; the urbane and refined Nick and Nora Charles; and arguably the most famous private eye of them all, Sam Spade. Hammett’s tenure with the Pinkertons (including work on the infamous Fatty Arbuckle case) provided the DNA for Spade, a cynical shamus with his own moral code. He made his debut in 1929’s The Maltese Falcon and while he would appear in another three short stories penned by Hammett, the Falcon and its hunt for a legendary statuette are why Spade is best remembered. Of course, the classic film adaptation by John Huston and starring Humphrey Bogart as Spade didn’t hurt his reputation. The success of Bogart’s Maltese Falcon generated new interest in Hammett’s work in the 1940s. As stories were reprinted in hardcover and paperback, Hammett’s agent believed Spade’s exploits would be perfect for radio. By 1946, the wheels were in motion to bring the detective to the airwaves. The Adventures of Sam Spade was produced and directed by radio veteran William Spier, who also ran the show on CBS’ “outstanding theater of thrills,” Suspense. In fact, the audition program for Spade was a reworked Suspense script from two years earlier that originally starred Keenan Wynn. The scripts for that first season (including the audition) were written by an uncredited Jo Eisinger and Robert Tallman. The scriptwriters received no credit, as producers wanted to maintain the illusion that Hammett himself scripted the series. Hammett’s name was all over the program, but he had no direct involvement in the series. As he said, “My sole duty in regard to these programs is to look in the mail for a check once a week. I don’t even listen to them. If I did, I’d complain about how they were handled, and then I’d fall into the trap of being asked to come down and help.” ABC picked up The Adventures of Sam Spade for a thirteen-week summer run beginning on July 12, 1946. Actor Lloyd Nolan was set to star as Sam Spade, but a schedule conflict forced him to withdraw from the role at the last minute. (Nolan had just ended a run of B-movies for Fox as hard-boiled private eye Michael Shayne, and he would have made a fine Spade.) Former Armed Forces Radio Service announcer Howard Duff won the role of Spade with his audition, beating out radio veterans like Elliott Lewis. Spier was initially unimpressed with the actor, who was about as far from Bogart’s iconic portrayal as one could get, but Duff had a champion in Spier’s wife, Kay Thompson and she persuaded her husband to give Duff the role. The series received rave notices in its first year, including an Edgar Award for best radio detective series. By September 1946, the show had moved to CBS, where it would remain until 1950. Robert Tallman continued as a writer, and Gil Doud stepped in to replace Jo Eisinger in 1947. With their scripts and Duff’s performance, Sam Spade was one of radio’s most popular shows. The sleuth even held his own against the powerhouse of Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy across the airwaves on NBC. Duff was ably supported each week by Lurene Tuttle in the role of Spade’s scatterbrained (but always loyal) secretary Effie Perrine, along with some of the best actors working on radio on the West Coast, including William Conrad, Joseph Kearns, Wally Maher, Jeanette Nolan, and John McIntire. Each week, Spade would dictate his case report to Effie for his client’s review. The fourth wall was often broken, with frequent references to the program itself. “Sam” and “Effie” often weighed in on the performances Duff and Tuttle gave in the dramatizations of “their” adventures. The show kept a loyal following, but CBS grew wary of Hammett’s Communist affiliations (he had joined the Communist Party in the 1930s at the height of the New Deal). After the names of Hammett and Duff turned up in a pamphlet identifying Communists and their sympathizers, the show lost its sponsor (Wildroot Cream Oil) and September 1950 saw Howard Duff’s last performance as Spade. The show was revived for a twenty four-week run on NBC on November 17, 1950 with Steven Dunne stepping in as Spade. Lurene Tuttle and William Spier returned from the original run, but there was conspicuously no mention of Dashiell Hammett to be found. Dunne was a fine Spade, but Howard Duff had made the role his own. As radio historian John Dunning noted, not even Humphrey Bogart could have succeeded Duff as Spade by 1950. But before the Red Scare and timid sponsors did the show in, The Adventures of Sam Spade consistently delivered some of the best that radio had to offer. With Duff’s wry performance and the colorful characters invented by Tallman, Eisinger, and Doud, the show still holds up today as exciting mystery drama.

“Herbert Marshall as The Man Called X. Wherever there is mystery, intrigue, romance, in all the strange and dangerous places of the world, there you will find…The Man Called X!” Philip Marlowe walked the neon-tinged streets of Los Angeles. Danny Clover’s beat was Broadway. But some radio detectives patrolled more than a city, more than a state, sometimes even more than a country. One of those globe-trotting gumshoes, and radio’s answer to James Bond, was Ken Thurston - the dashing, debonair secret agent known and feared through the international underworld as The Man Called X. Debuting just as World War II drew to a close and leaving the air as the Cold War was heating up, The Man Called X stands as one of radio’s finest espionage mystery programs. The series was created by Jay Richard Kennedy, a businessman and writer who would later become singer Harry Belafonte’s business manager. It centered on Ken Thurston, agent for “the Bureau,” and his dangerous missions that took him all around the world. The early introductions for the show introduced Thurston as “the man who crosses the ocean as readily as you and I cross down.” Whether it was hunting down surviving Nazi plotters, assisting with defections, or thwarting sabotage, Thurston, aka Mr. X, could be counted on to get the job done “so that tomorrow’s peace will make the world a neighborhood for all of us.” The series found its Mr. X in an actor who had already demonstrated his heroics on the battlefield. Herbert Marshall took a sniper’s bullet in the knee during World War I where he served in the London Scottish Regiment. It may have been the war’s most star-studded brigade, as it also included future stars Ronald Colman, Claude Rains, and Basil Rathbone. Doctors were forced to amputate his right leg at the hip, but Marshall hid his prosthetic leg from audiences as he embarked on his stage and film career. Marshall was a romantic leading man in his early years, but he matured into a character actor. One of his most famous performances came in Alfred Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent as Stephen Fisher, the traitorous leader of the Universal Peace Party on the eve of World War II. Marshall was polished and urbane, but he could tap into a ruthlessness appropriate for a spy with the fate of the world resting on his shoulders. Marshall starred as Thurston for the series’ entire run except for three episodes he had to sit out due to a pulmonary embolism. For those shows (aired in May and June 1951), Van Heflin, John Lund, and Joseph Cotten filled in as other Bureau agents. Heflin had starred as Philip Marlowe on radio in 1947, and Lund was about a year away from starring as Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar. Joseph Cotten was a regular radio presence with his turns on Suspense and the Lux Radio Theatre, and he too was a year away from his own radio detective series, The Private Files of Matthew Bell. Thurston was a lone wolf…or at least he wanted to be. Unfortunately for him, his track was dogged by international con man and small time crook Pegon Zellschmidt. Played by Leon Belasco, Pegon was always out for a quick buck and would offer his services to Thurston for a nominal fee. Pegon was a loyal sidekick, until the bullets started flying or the opposition came in with a more lucrative offer. The series traveled between networks as often as Ken Thurston circled the globe. The Man Called X premiered as a CBS summer series on July 10, 1944. In September, it moved to NBC, where it ran until March 1945 and then returned for summer runs in 1945 and 1946. From 1947 to 1948, it came back to CBS. Finally, it returned to NBC for a last run of 86 shows from 1950 to 1952. For nearly the entire run, the series was directed by Jack Johnstone. Johnstone was a radio veteran who helmed the Bob Bailey era of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, and he pulled talent from the very deep West Coast radio pool. Will Wright recurred as Thurston’s boss at the Bureau, “the Chief,” and supporting roles were filled by Harry Bartell, Gloria Blondell, Gerald Mohr, Peggy Webber, and more. The Man Called X came to television in 1956 as a syndicated series starring Barry Sullivan, but his Thurston didn’t log nearly as many frequent flier miles as Herbert Marshall. Unhindered by filming logistics and backed up by sharp scripts, Mr. X went everywhere from the Arctic to the Amazon and he kept audiences entertained every step of the way.

“Yeah, danger is my assignment. I get sent to a lot of places I can’t even pronounce. They all spell the same thing, though - trouble.” In the years during and after World War II, radio’s gumshoes and beat cops were joined by international secret agents; these globe-trotting detectives worked at home and abroad to keep America and her interests safe from the enemy agents, saboteurs, and black marketers who threatened the stability of the post-war world. Previously, we heard the exploits of Ken Thurston, better known as The Man Called X, a debonair and urbane agent. Another member of the fraternity was Steve Mitchell, more two-fisted than Thurston but just as capable. As played by big screen star Brian Donlevy, Mitchell was dispatched all around the world from 1949 to 1953 in Dangerous Assignment. It was a terrific espionage adventure program anchored by Donlevy’s lead performance. Though it was never clearly explained which agency employed Steve Mitchell, it was clear he was operating on behalf of the U.S. Government. At the beginning of each episode, Mitchell received his assignment from “The Commissioner” (played by Herb Butterfield, who also doled out cases as Anthony J. Lyon on Jeff Regan, Investigator). Usually undercover as a foreign correspondent, Mitchell would catch a plane to a far-off locale to investigate a threat to America. But where the Man Called X was sophisticated and suave, Mitchell was a hard-boiled spy. Steve Mitchell was more likely to end up in the jungle or hiding in the sand dunes than he was to move in and out of high society parties. It’s almost impossible to listen to Herbert Marshall as Ken Thurston and not imagine him in an immaculately tailored suit. It’s equally difficult to hear Steve Mitchell and imagine him outside of dungarees and fatigues. The actor who gave voice to the man of action was one who had his own share of derring-do in real life, Brian Donlevy. At age 14, Donlevy lied about his age to join the Army. In 1916, he served under General John J. Pershing in the Army’s pursuit of Pancho Villa, and he served as a pilot with the French Air Force during World War I. Ultimately, he abandoned his military career for acting and broke into Hollywood in silent pictures in the 1920s. Donlevy earned an Oscar nomination for his role in Beau Geste in 1939, and the following year found some of his greatest success in the title role of Preston Sturges’ The Great McGinty - a bum who ends up in the governor’s mansion. Donlevy could play tough guys with the best of them, but he also managed to find the likable aspects of a character. His brutes were never wholly brutish, a quality that served him well in a number of 1940s film noir performances, including Kiss of Death in 1947. Dangerous Assignment went on the air in the summer of 1949.  NBC had recently lost The Man Called X, and the network was eager for another adventure series to fill the void. Brian Donlevy was heavily involved in the production of the series, and he approached NBC about getting the program on the air. After the summer run ended, NBC brough Dangerous Assignment back in February 1950. In late 1950, The Man Called X returned to NBC, and the programs aired back to back from 1950 to 1951. In 1952, Steve Mitchell’s adventures came to television for 39 episodes. Donlevy not only reprised his role, but he produced the TV version as well. Also along for the TV series was Herb Butterfield as “The Commissioner.” The series was well produced, offering a variety of locations and adventures rounded out by the great Hollywood radio acting pool. In his tenure on the air, Steve Mitchell investigated deaths of fellow agents, pursued saboteurs, and tried to maintain America’s sphere of influence. In one episode, the enemy spreads rumors that the United States is backing a coup in a South American country; Mitchell is dispatched to set the record straight and to stop the rumors. In the show we’ll hear on the podcast this week, the theft of several barrels of oil jeopardizes the export of oil to the States. Scripts by Robert Ryf (a frequent contributor to Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar) and the driving score by Bruce Ashley helped to create a sense of atmosphere and foreign intrigue.

The Golden Age of Radio hosted a big club of newspaper reporters whose zeal for truth and justice led them to fight crime as they fought deadlines. Randy Stone of Night Beat; Dan Holiday of Box 13; and of course Clark Kent are just a few of the reporters who went above and beyond merely reporting the news and who took an active role in their stories. But it wasn’t just the writers who played detective on the side in the world of radio journalists. One plucky photographer played gumshoe as he worked the police beat for his paper. He was Casey, Crime Photographer, and he enjoyed a long career on radio in the 1940s and early 1950s beginning with his first broadcast on July 7, 1943. Casey was created by George Harmon Coxe and first appeared in Black Mask magazine in 1934. Coxe was inspired by the stories of heroic newspapermen, but he observed that “it was frequently the photographer accompanying such newsmen who frequently had to stick their neck out to get an acceptable picture.” Coxe felt it was time to give the cameraman his due and introduced readers to Jack “Flashgun” Casey, a hard-drinking, two-fisted photographer who wielded a gun as effectively as he used a camera. Coxe featured the character in 24 short stories and six novels. Following two B-movies in 1936 and 1937, Casey came to radio in June 1943 on CBS in Flashgun Casey, Press Photographer. Actor Matt Crowley, who played Batman, Dick Tracy, and Mark Trail on radio during his career, was the first actor heard as Casey. He was quickly succeeded by Jim Backus, later the voice of Mr. Magoo. By October, the role had been recast again, and this new Casey would stick with the character for the rest of his radio career. Actor Staats Cotsworth found his greatest radio success as Casey, but even with over 400 performances as the crime photographer he enjoyed a long career of diverse roles in radio and on television. Like J. Scott Smart of The Fat Man, he was a bit of a renaissance man. Cotsworth acted on the stage and only moved into acting early in his career to support his work as a painter. He continued to work in radio even while he was headlining Crime Photographer; Cotsworth could be heard on The Shadow, Dimension X, The Mysterious Traveler, and Rocky Fortune throughout his tenure on Casey. The supporting cast for Cotsworth’s run was rounded out by actress Jan Miner as reporter Ann Williams, whose stories ran alongside Casey’s photos; Bernard Lenrow as Captain Logan of the police; and John Gibson as Ethelbert, the wry bartender at the Blue Note Cafe, where most Casey episodes wrapped up. Typical episodes (mostly written by Alonzo Dean Cole) involved Casey and Ann launching their own investigations into the crimes they covered, with Captain Logan often accepting their assistance, albeit reluctantly. Though the series is best known today as Casey, Crime Photographer, it ran under several titles including Casey, Press Photographer and Crime Photographer. It aired on CBS in multiple incarnations from 1943 until 1954. For the final years, the radio version ran alongside a TV version. Actor Darren McGavin (perhaps best known as “The Old Man” in A Christmas Story) played Casey, with Jan Miner reprising her role as Ann for the single season TV run. Radio historian John Dunning is less than kind to Casey, calling it “better than Mr. Keen [Tracer of Lost Persons], but lacking the polish and style of Sam Spade.” That’s a high bar to clear; few shows could measure up to Sam Spade when Howard Duff was at the microphone (today it would be akin to dismissing a series because it isn’t as good as Homeland). Casey, Crime Photographer, thanks largely to Cotsworth’s performance, is light and engaging mystery fare, well produced and written, and it presents a different type of character in a sea of hard-boiled private eyes.

“We take you now behind the scenes of a police headquarters in a great American city…” Cops rarely got their due in the Golden Age of Radio. On shows headlined by private detectives and amateur sleuths, the uniformed police officer was at best a harried man in over his head forced to turn to an outsider for help; at worst, he was a dullard who would trip over his own shoelaces without assistance from the main character. But some shows painted police officers with the right kind of brush. They weren’t portrayed as geniuses or as dunces; rather, the hard work and determination that cracked cases was played up with elements of unique personalities and characters allowed to shine through. Dragnet is the best-known example of this type of police drama. Less known but just as strong is The Line-Up, a series that aired on CBS from 1949 to 1953, keeping pace with Jack Webb’s program in its early years on radio. The series was set in “a great American city” (unnamed at first, but later revealed to be San Francisco in the television version) and it followed the police as they tracked down killers, thieves, con men, and mob bosses. Each episode opened with a line-up of suspects, sometimes connected to the crime of the week, who were questioned by officers while anxious eyewitnesses watched and tried to recognize them. These scenes were wonderful displays of characterization, humor, and sound design as the hushed observations from the gallery mixed in and out of the loud defiant answers of the suspects being questioned. The Line-Up was originally developed by Elliot Lewis, Morton Fine, and David Friedkin - the trio behind Broadway is My Beat. After the initial eight week run on CBS, the series was turned over to Blake Edwards and Jaime del Vallee, the creative team behind Richard Diamond, Private Detective. The new creative team shepherded a series that had the realism of Dragnet (especially in how it portrayed the frequent monotony of police work), but The Line-Up was more nuanced and allowed for richer characters to populate its precinct. Joe Friday and his partners were cops; the men on The Line-Up felt more like real people. And to get that level of characterization, you need great actors in the roles. The Line-Up started strong at the top. In what may be his greatest radio role (and that’s saying something given his two decades of work in the Golden Age of Radio), Bill Johnstone starred as Lt. Ben Guthrie. Johnstone first rose to prominence when he succeeded Orson Welles as The Shadow, a role he played from 1939 until 1943. That year, he moved to Hollywood and joined the incredible talent pool of west coast radio players. Johnstone was a fixture on Suspense, Escape, Sam Spade, and many more. He appeared in several episodes of The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe as Inspector Cramer and he played Lt. Ybarra opposite Van Heflin on The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. The prematurely gray-haired Johnstone had a rich voice that gave his characters an “older than their years” sound, and that technique was put to great use as Ben Guthrie. He was overworked (long hours and trips to the coffee pot were standards on the show) but Johnstone captured Guthrie’s determination to close a case through the late nights. Johnstone was supported for the first years of the program by actor Wally Maher (radio's Michael Shayne and Lt. Riley on Let George Do It) as Sgt. Matt Grebb. Grebb called the titular line-up that opened each episode and his wry dressing-down of suspects added some levity to the dramatic scripts. Grebb could also be counted on to rib Guthrie about the latter’s bachelor lifestyle. Grebb played a role similar to that of Frank Smith on Dragnet, but Maher was given more opportunity to make Grebb a true character. Sadly, Maher passed away at age 43 in 1951, leaving a hole in not only The Line-Up, but the reperatory cast of Hollywood radio actors. Actor Jack Moyles (who enjoyed a run as a radio detective in Rocky Jordan) played Sgt. Pete Carger, Guthrie’s new partner, for the duration of the radio run following Maher’s death. As a tribute to Maher (or perhaps because the late actor’s style was so closely associated and identified with the program), Moyles used a similar delivery and cadence when calling the line-up at the start of each episode. The Line-Up aired on CBS from July 6, 1950 to February 20, 1953. Like other shows of the era, it transitioned to television (albeit without its radio cast). The TV version starred Warner Anderson as Lt. Guthrie and Tom Tully as Inspector Grebb. Grebb received a promotion for TV because the San Francisco Police Department Bureau of Inspectors had no “Sergeant” rank. The series ran on CBS television from 1954 to 1960, and a feature film spin-off hit theaters in 1958. Ditected by Don Siegel (later he would direct Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry), the film co-starred Eli Wallach. Anderson returned as Guthrie for the film. As more episodes of The Line-Up continue to enter circulation, it’s a great time to discover this series. Fans of police drama and sharp writing would do well to sit in the gallery and watch as the suspects are paraded out and questioned. Just don’t pay too much attention to their answers, as they often lie. “Bring on the line.”

The gentleman amateur is as much an archetype of detective fiction as the dogged policeman and the hard-boiled private eye. Perhaps the most famous of this more refined school of crime-solver is Philo Vance. The debonair detective appeared in 12 novels written by Willard Huntington Wright (under the pen name S.S. Van Dine) and enjoyed a run as a film and radio star from the 1920s into the 1940s. Vance's tenure as a radio detective began with a broadcast on July 5, 1945. Vance was an intellectual, a gourmand, a polyglot, and an expert on everything from psychology to Chinese pottery. He fenced, played polo and poker, and even bred show dogs. Described by Wright/Van Dine as “unusually good-looking,” he was always dressed to the nines and usually wore a monocle. His creator inserted himself into the drama, with “S.S. Van Dine” acting as narrator and a Dr. Watson for Vance as he embarked on his mysteries. Also appearing alongside Vance in the books were District Attorney Markham, a no-nonsense prosecutor, and Sgt. Heath, who was as gruff and guttural as Vance was refined. Vance solved baffling cases in and around New York for twelve novels, including one where he partnered with comedienne Gracie Allen! The Vance novels were constructed as puzzle mysteries, with their intricate plots taking priority over the characters, and were well-received, especially the earliest novels in the series. Not everyone was a fan, however; poet Ogden Nash famously observed “Philo Vance/Needs a kick in the pance.” Raymond Chandler, creator of Philip Marlowe, derided Vance as “the most asinine character in detective fiction.” Despite the chilly reception Vance received from these writers, Hollywood came calling to bring the character to the big screen. In 1929, William Powell (five years away from The Thin Man) became the screen’s first Philo Vance and starred in three films. Basil Rathbone, nine years from his run as Sherlock Holmes, stepped in as Vance for The Bishop Murder Case (1930) before Powell returned in 1933’s The Kennel Murder Case. Directed by Michael Curtiz (Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood), The Kennel Murder Case is hailed as not only the best Philo Vance film, but one of the best film adaptations of a Golden Age mystery novel. Other actors who played Vance include Warren William (who also starred as Perry Mason in a series of Warner Brothers films), Paul Lukas, and William Wright. The final Vance films hit the screen in 1947, when the character was also solving crimes on the radio. John Emery, the one-time husband of Tallulah Bankhead, was radio’s first Philo Vance in 1943. Future Academy Award winner Jose Ferrer starred as Vance in a 1945 summer series. But the actor with the longest run as Philo Vance on radio was not a classic leading man, but rather a versatile radio actor. Jackson Beck was the narrator of The Adventures of Superman on radio; it was his thunderous delivery of the introduction “Faster than a speeding bullet…” that became a hallmark of the program. Beck was one of radio’s most versatile actors. Not only could he fill in as background characters on the Superman shows he narrated, but he could mimic world leaders on The March of Time and ride the radio range as The Cisco Kid. Beck was tapped to star as Philo Vance in a syndicated series from producer Frederick W. Ziv. Ziv also brought Richard Kollmar to radio as Boston Blackie. The Ziv series toned down some of the character’s less endearing characteristics; Vance was still a brilliant detective, but he was a more down-to-earth character. The preening fop of the novels (and even the early films) was gone. Jackson Beck’s performance created a Vance who had a taste for the finer things but was no dandy. He wasn’t a tough guy, but had no problem landing a punch when he needed to. The syndicated episodes also built a team around Vance. His secretary, Ellen Deering, was on hand for assistance and some playful office banter. Ellen was played by Beck’s Superman co-star Joan (Lois Lane) Alexander. District Attorney Markham carried over from the Van Dine novels, and was played on the series by George Petrie. Usually, Vance would get entangled in a case because Markham sought out his assistance. The Ziv series ran for 104 episodes, each following Van Dine’s template of titling: “The [something] Murder Case.” Like Ziv’s Boston Blackie series, Philo Vance didn’t have an introduction or opening credits. Instead, the first thing the listener hears is the organ followed by a teaser. Usually the crime is heard in this scene, or the criminals are overheard planning their next steps. Vance enters the story either at the behest of a client or by working alongside D.A. Markham. After dismissing the too-obvious solution to the crime at the scene, Vance makes his way through the suspects, interrogating but always with a gentleman’s charm, before he solves the crime and reveals the murderer. His adventures aren’t hard-boiled, but Philo Vance provides entertainment for listeners (particularly when Jackson Beck is at the microphone). These puzzlers are cleverly plotted mysteries cast with an assortment of New York radio players. It’s the type of quality programming the real Vance might enjoy in an easy chair with a cocktail at the ready.

Following his star turn as Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, Dick Powell found himself at a new stage of his career. With the acclaim he’d earned for his hard-boiled performance, Powell could finally shed the baby-faced crooner image that had defined his work up until that point. He used his clout and the momentum Marlowe brought him to approach the F.W. Fitch shampoo company with a proposal - a summer detective series to fill the weeks until their Fitch Bandwagon variety show returned to the air in the fall. Powell, a veteran of the Bandwagon, would headline the new series as a private detective cut from the Marlowe cloth. The result was Bandwagon Mysteries, Powell’s first weekly dramatic series and the introduction of Richard Rogue, a radio shamus who would crack cases on radio over the next seven years. Bandwagon Mysteries premiered on NBC on June 17, 1945 and ran for fourteen weeks. By the end of the run, there was a demand for the show to continue but the regular Fitch Bandwagon program was slated to return to NBC after its summer vacation. Fitch shopped the series, retitled Rogue’s Gallery to other networks. It landed at Mutual and began a thirty-nine week run on September 27, 1945. When its Mutual season ended in June 1946, it returned to NBC as a summer replacement for Fitch Bandwagon. By this time, the show was so identified by its new title that it didn’t revert to Bandwagon Mysteries; instead it aired for an additional fourteen episodes in the summer of 1946. Powell’s performance as Richard Rogue was similar to his take on Philip Marlowe (and it would be refined and perfected a few years later on Richard Diamond, Private Detective): tough, but glib, and more likely to come up with a quip than to squeeze off a round from his .38. Aside from Powell’s unique delivery, the signature element of the show was the inclusion of Rogue’s impish “alter ego,“ Eugor (that’s Rogue spelled backwards). Each week, usually following a shot to the head, Rogue would lose consciousness and take an otherworldly trip to “Cloud Eight." While there, he’d trade barbs with the cackling Eugor, and their conversations would usually shed light on a clue the gumshoe had overlooked during his investigation. Though never credited on the show, Eugor was played by veteran radio character actor Peter Leeds. Leeds could be heard in supporting roles on Suspense, Nero Wolfe, Escape and others. He was a member of the cast of Stan Freberg’s legendary 1957 CBS radio series, and he provided several voices for Hanna-Barbera cartoons. Dick Powell left the role after the 1946 series. Rogue’s Gallery returned the following year for a summer run starring Barry Sullivan, who would later pinch hit as The Saint when Vincent Price was unavailable to record. Following that brief run, Richard Rogue left the air for three years. The Fitch company fell upon hard times following a complaint from the Federal Trade Commission over the company’s claims that its shampoo could eradicate dandruff, and their sponsorship ended in 1947. In 1950, ABC resurrected the concept for a two year run. Actor Paul Stewart, a veteran of Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre, played Rogue on ABC. Elsewhere on the network, Dick Powell was crooning through crimes as Richard Diamond. He was working right alongside one of his earlier characters - one who helped pave the way for his future radio success. Diamond may be the more famous Richard, but it was Rogue who put Powell on the path to a career as a crime-solver extraordinaire.

“Boston Blackie” was the nickname of Horatio Black, a reformed thief and modern day Robin Hood in the vein of The Saint. Emerging from the pen and mind of a real-life convict, Blackie went on to become one of the most popular radio detectives of the 1940s and 1950s. He was created by Jack Boyle, whose writing career began behind bars with a series of true crime confession novels written under his prison number, 6006. The stories originated in San Quentin and were published by The American Magazine. Editor Ray Long recalled Boyle as “an opium addict, and a hard drinking man if ever there was one. But withal, one of the most entertaining men in the world, and so far as his dealings with me went, a square shooter.” Long encouraged Boyle to continue writing upon his release. Those initial 12 short stories were collected and published as a novel in 1919. From 1918 to 1927, Blackie appeared in nine silent films, but actor Chester Morris made the role his own during a run of 14 B-movies for Columbia Pictures from 1941 to 1949. This film series established Blackie as a reformed jewel thief who used his knowledge of the underworld to come to the aid of innocent victims. Throughout the series, Blackie was pursued by Inspector Farraday of the police (played by Richard Lane). Farraday was never convinced that Blackie had gone over to the side of law and order and he was always quick to blame Blackie for any robberies in his proximity. Blackie first came to radio in 1944 for an NBC summer series replacing Amos n’ Andy. Sponsored by Rinso, the Boston Blackie radio show starred Chester Morris and Richard Lane (reprising their screen roles) and promoted One Mysterious Night, the upcoming Columbia Boston Blackie film. As the introduction to the series explained every week, Blackie was an “enemy to those who make him an enemy, friend to those who have no friend. Along with Blackie and Inspector Farraday, the NBC series featured recurring characters like Blackie’s wealthy benefactor Arthur Manletter and “Shorty,” Blackie’s driver and sidekick. Veteran announcer Harlow Wilcox, who pitched Johnson’s Wax on Fibber McGee & Molly and Auto-Lite Spark Plugs on Suspense, announced the show. The Morris-NBC series ran for 13 weeks. A year after the Morris series signed off of NBC, Boston Blackie returned to radio in a syndicated series from producer Frederick Ziv. Ziv was a pioneer of radio and television syndication, and he later brought a Blackie TV series to the air in 1951. Richard “Dick” Kollmar played Blackie for the entire Ziv run, appearing in over 200 episodes. Kollmar was perhaps most famous for co-hosting the morning radio show Breakfast with Dorothy and Dick for 18 years with his wife Dorothy Kilgallen. In the syndicated series, Inspector Farrady was played by Maurice Tarplin, a versatile New York radio actor who could also be heard narrating tales of terror as The Mysterious Traveler. Actresses Lesley Woods and Jan Miner appeared as Blackie’s girlfriend Mary Wesley (coincidentally, both actresses also played Ann Williams, reporter and gal pal of Casey, Crime Photographer on CBS during the same period!). In both runs of the series, plots often involved Blackie being set up or suspected of a robbery. Another frequently employed plot device would involve old cellmates of Blackie’s, or criminals he’d sent up the river, breaking out of jail to exact their revenge. The series was a more lighthearted affair than some of the more hardboiled offerings from the Golden Age of Radio, but it was solidly entertaining with lively characterizations and plots.

Most of the fun in reading (or listening to) a detective story is the chance to play detective ourselves. We meet the suspects, process the clues, and weigh the evidence alongside the sleuth, and we have the chance to see if we can reach the same solution to the crime. But rarely do our fictional gumshoes pause mid-narrative to see where we are, to check in on the progress of our own investigation. One notable exception (for young readers, at least) is Encyclopedia Brown. Another is one of the biggest names in crime fiction - Ellery Queen. And like Encyclopedia Brown, Ellery is an amateur sleuth who helps his police detective father crack tough cases. Queen was the creation of mystery writer cousins Daniel Nathan (alias Frederic Dannay) and Manford Leopofsky (alias Manford Lee). They submitted a story for a contest in 1928, and they won but the magazine folded before the story could be published. The cousins shopped the story around and the first Ellery Queen adventure was published in 1929. That first story, “The Roman Hat Mystery,” set out the elements of the character and the formula for his adventures. Ellery was a bit of a dilettante, an intellectual who solved crimes because their puzzles intrigued him. He was often called upon to assist his father, Inspector Richard Queen of the New York Police Department. Along with the inspector’s irascible Sgt. Velie, Ellery and his father tackled bizarre cases littered with red herrings and multiple suspects. One of the signature elements of the Ellery Queen stories was a “Challenge to the Reader,” a break in the action just before the solution was revealed. It explained that the reader had seen all of the clues, and there was only one possible solution to the crime. The character starred in over 30 novels written by Dannay and Lee, and the two would create the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine in 1941; Ellery Queen is still being published today. Ellery Queen first came to radio on CBS in 1939 with Hugh Marlowe in the title role. Though he was featured prominently in promotional photos and press, Marlowe was not credited as Queen during the run. This may have been done to maintain the illusion that “Ellery Queen” was a real figure, detective, writer, and publisher of the magazine. None of the actors who played Ellery on radio got the billing and on-air credit, even as their co-stars were identified by name with the characters they played. The radio series introduced a character who would become fixtures in the Ellery Queen mythology - Nikki Porter, Ellery’s secretary and Girl Friday (played in the first series by Marion Shockley). Nikki would remain in the cast for the rest of the radio runs, and she was incorporated into the Ellery Queen novels in 1943. The radio series retained Ellery’s amateur status, but he was less arrogant and insufferable. It was easy to see why his father would reach out to bring him in on cases. Though he still wasn’t two-fisted, nor did he carry a gun, Ellery Queen was pretty human. He had Sherlock Holmes’ eye for detail but he was less anti-social and aloof. Like the stories, the radio series offered a challenge to audiences, but the radio series went a step farther and featured a stand-in for the audience during the broadcasts. A guest “armchair detective” would sit in and would discuss the case with “Ellery” and “Nikki” before the solution was revealed. Initially, the “guest detective” was a panel of mystery writers. Later, members of the studio audience were used (that idea was dropped because the audience members were far from adept at the microphone); eventually, one celebrity guest appeared in each show. Gloria Swanson, Mel Blanc, Victor Jory, Orson Welles, and Ed Sullivan are just a few of the guests who appeared and tried their deductive skills against those of Ellery Queen (and his creator - Manfred Lee co-wrote the series with Anthony Boucher for much of the run). Ellery Queen ran in multiple series over NBC, CBS, and ABC from 1942 until 1948. Carleton Young, Sidney Smith, Larry Dobkin (who later played Archie Goodwin on Nero Wolfe), and Howard Culver all starred (uncredited, of course) as Ellery Queen. There were several TV versions in the 1950s, but the definitive Ellery Queen adaptation came nearly thirty years after the radio series took its final bow. In 1975, producers William Link and Richard Levinson (creators of Columbo and Murder, She Wrote, among others) brought Ellery Queen back to television in a great series that unfortunately lasted only one season. Jim Hutton starred as Ellery for 22 episodes with David Wayne as Inspector Queen. This Queen series was a period piece set in post-World War II New York. The setting allowed the producers to include several references to radio; a recurring character was a radio detective who tried to out-think Queen and position himself as a master detective, and one episode featured threats to the life of a radio soap opera star. Each episode boasted an all-star guest cast and a “challenge to the viewer” where Ellery broke the fourth wall right before the denouement to see if the audience had figured out the solution to that week’s mystery. In some respects, even though he perhaps wasn’t as famous as some of his more hard-boiled brethren, Ellery Queen may have been the ideal detective for the radio era. Audiences tuned in to detective and mystery shows for the thrill of trying to solve the crime, but none of the other sleuths they followed took the time to ask them “have you figured it out yet?” Ellery Queen, on print, screen, and radio encouraged a spirit of cooperation and involvement in his adventures unlike any of the other detectives who cracked cases during the Golden Age of Radio.

“I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.” (Raymond Chandler, Farewell, My Lovely) Raymond Chandler was thirty-nine when The Big Sleep, the first Philip Marlowe novel, was published and the world of detective fiction was never the same. It’s Chandler who gives us the archetypal private eye as knight errant, working his way through a world of corruption and vice while he is guided by his own moral compass. Along with Dashiell Hammett, Chandler helped to invent the “hard-boiled” style of detective fiction, and his signature character proved to be one of the most popular detectives to solve cases during the Golden Age of Radio. In the years between the publication of The Big Sleep and Marlowe’s premiere on radio, Chandler’s novels were adapted to the screen six times. Farewell, My Lovely and The High Window were retooled for other cinematic detectives (The Falcon and Michael Shayne, respectively); and Marlowe himself was played by four different actors in four films (Dick Powell in Murder, My Sweet; Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep; Robert Montgomery in Lady in the Lake; and George Montgomery - no relation - in The Brasher Doubloon). Marlowe first came to radio in a regular series on June 17, 1947 as NBC’s summer replacement for Bob Hope. MGM contract player and Academy Award winner Van Heflin starred as Marlowe, with scripts based on Chandler’s own stories. Heflin prepared for the role by riding along with Los Angeles police officers before and during the run of the show. Heflin was a fine Marlowe, but he failed to win over Chandler. In a letter to fellow mystery writer Erle Stanley Gardner (creator of Perry Mason), Chandler described the series and Heflin as “thoroughly flat.” The NBC series lasted thirteen weeks, and when the time came for more episodes, Heflin’s film career prevented his participation. It took nearly a year before Philip Marlowe returned to the airwaves in a regular series. Producer/director Norman Macdonnell, a veteran of Escape and other programs, oversaw the production of the new series, which premiered on CBS on September 26, 1948. Stepping into Marlowe’s shoes was actor Gerald Mohr, a regular on Suspense, Escape, Our Miss Brooks, and The Whistler. Mohr brought a hard edge and a grim determination to Marlowe’s voice; it was as different as night and day from Howard Duff’s wry, sardonic take on Sam Spade. Gerald Mohr’s Marlowe used his fists (and his .38 tucked away in shoulder holster) when necessary, and he marched through his world with a weary cynicism that came right out of Chandler’s pages. And Mohr bellowed the show’s legendary opening week after week: “Get this and get it straight…crime is a sucker’s road, and those who travel it wind up in the gutter, the prison, or the grave!” The Adventures of Philip Marlowe was a hit, with scripts by Mel Dinelli, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt. By 1949, the series was attracting 10.3 million listeners a week, and Gerald Mohr had been named Most Popular Male Actor by Radio and Television magazine. Like Dashiell Hammett and The Adventures of Sam Spade, Chandler’s name was all over the show (the broadcasts were billed as coming “from the pen of Raymond Chandler”), but the author had no involvement in the actual scripts or broadcast. He did, however, have praise for the show’s star, declaring “Gerald Mohr’s voice is absolutely tops. A voice like Gerald Mohr’s gave you a personality which you fill out according to your fancy.” Mohr’s wasn’t the only strong voice; he was backed up each week by members of Macdonnell’s repertory company of actors, including John Dehner, Virginia Gregg, Jeff Corey, Larry Dobkin, Howard McNear, Parley Baer, Vivi Janiss, Georgia Ellis, and William Conrad. Many of those actors would join Macdonnell in Dodge City when he developed Gunsmoke, a program that grew out of CBS chairman William Paley’s request to Macdonnell for a “Philip Marlowe in the Old West.” The Adventures of Philip Marlowe ran until September 29, 1950. It was revived for a brief run in July 1951, with Mohr slipping back into the role of Marlowe as if he’d never left it. Philip Marlowe left the airwaves the same way he arrived on them: as a summer replacement series. This time, Marlowe kept the time slot warm for Hopalong Cassidy. Nearly all of the 114-episode Mohr series has survived in good condition, giving today’s fans a chance to thrill to the rough and tumble exploits of Philip Marlowe as radio audiences did from 1948 to 1951.

Actor Bob Bailey was born June 13, 1913. To old time radio fans, Bailey is best remembered for a pair of detective roles: as ex-GI turned gumshoe George Valentine in Let George Do It, and as “America’s fabulous freelance insurance investigator” Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar. Bailey began his career in Chicago radio with appearances on That Brewster Boy, Meet Corliss Archer, and other programs originating from the Windy City. Between 1943 and 1944, he was under contract at 20th Century Fox. Bailey made several pictures at Fox, including the Laurel & Hardy films Jitterbugs and The Dancing Masters. In 1946, Bailey starred as George Valentine, a private detective who solicited clients through a newspaper ad offering to shoulder the danger they couldn’t handle. Bailey’s performance in Let George Do It made Valentine tough but funny, a scrappy and hard-working gumshoe. Bailey starred in the show until 1954. The following year, he stepped into the shoes of Johnny Dollar. Under the direction of Jack Johnstone, Bailey starred as Dollar in a series of nightly serialized stories that remain some of the finest drama produced during the Golden Age of Radio. The program went back to a weekly format in September 1956, and Bailey would remain in the title role until 1960 when production moved to New York. He left a run of nearly five hundred episodes and cemented himself as the definitive version of the character. Unlike some of his peers from the era, Bailey didn’t go on to a long television career outside of a handful of appearances in the 1960s. Struggles with alcoholism and later a stroke kept him off of the screen. Fortunately for us, there are dozens of hours of his memorable performances as two of radio’s best detectives.

Basil Rathbone, the debonair British actor and one of Hollywood’s most famous performers, was born June 13, 1892. With hundreds of stage and screen roles to his credit, Rathbone is most famous for his fourteen films and hundreds of radio episodes as the world’s greatest detective, Sherlock Holmes. Rathbone made a splash in Hollywood in a number of dashing roles through the 1930s, including the dastardly Sir Guy of Gisbourne in The Adventures of Robin Hood, suave detective Philo Vance in The Bishop Murder Case, and Captain Pasquale in The Mark of Zorro. In 1939, he first played Sherlock Holmes and kicked off a seven year run as Arthur Conan Doyle’s master detective that included fourteen films and hundreds of radio performances. Rathbone was always paired with his old friend Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson both in radio recreations of the Doyle stories and in Universal B-movies that brought Holmes and Watson into the twentieth century. For many, Rathbone is Sherlock Holmes, and his films have continued to entertain mystery fans since their release seventy-five years ago. Ultimately, frustration with typecasting led Rathbone to bid farewell to Sherlock Holmes in 1946. Rathbone returned to the detective well in his post-Holmes years; first, he starred as Inspector Burke on Scotland Yard, and later he played himself as an amateur sleuth on Tales of Fatima. Both shows were short-lived, and they did not come close to eclipsing the image of Holmes in the public’s eye. In later years, he appeared opposite Danny Kaye in The Court Jester and Humphrey Bogart in We’re No Angels. Rathbone co-starred with Vincent Price in Roger Corman’s Tales of Terror, and he made memorable recordings of poems by Edgar Allan Poe and “The Night Before Christmas.” Rathbone passed away in 1967, nearly twenty years after he hung up Holmes’ deerstalker cap.

Gerald Mohr, who possessed one of radio’s greatest voices, was born June 11, 1914. His powerful baritone delivery made him a natural for radio detective work, and he may be best remembered today for his three year stint on the air as Philip Marlowe. Mohr made the leap from medical school to broadcasting when an announcer told him he had a perfect radio voice. After a stint in the service during World War II, Mohr began working both on radio and in B-movies. He starred in three films as Michael Lanyard, aka “The Lone Wolf” and narrated the early television episodes of The Lone Ranger. On radio, Mohr could be heard in supporting roles on Rogue’s Gallery, Our Miss Brooks, and Suspense. He was a frequent guest star on The Whistler, usually playing flashy criminals or con men. But his signature radio role would come when he played a character on the right side of the law. From 1948 to 1950, Mohr starred as Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe on radio. He starred in over 100 episodes as the tough but heroic private eye and gave the Golden Age of Radio one of its greatest detectives. Even Chandler himself was a fan, describing Mohr as “absolutely tops.” Mohr’s delivery and booming voice were perfect for the show’s signature introduction: “Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker’s road, and those who travel it wind up in the gutter, the prison, or the grave!” In January 1951, Mohr had a short stint as Archie Goodwin, the glib, skirt-chasing leg man to Nero Wolfe (Sydney Greenstreet) in The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe. A few months later, he was back on CBS for a final run of 11 episodes as Philip Marlowe. Later, in 1955, he recorded an audition program as Johnny Dollar before that series’ revival as a nightly serial. Mohr worked in television on shows like Maverick and Perry Mason, and he continued to flex his voice acting muscles in cartoons as Green Lantern and Mr. Fantastic. He passed away at the too-young age of 54, but he leaves a body of work and radio performances that can still be enjoyed today.

On June 3, 1949, Dragnet premiered on NBC and ushered in a new era of crime drama. Created by Jack Webb, the series dramatized actual cases of the Los Angeles Police Department and did so with radio’s most realistic depiction of police procedure. Webb, in partnership with LAPD technical advisers, brought radio listeners deep into the world of the police with a matter-of-fact, underplayed style. Jack Webb himself was the chief innovator of that style as the no-nonsense Sgt. Joe Friday. Friday was a cop’s cop, a determined public servant committed to keeping the streets of the city safe. Webb brought Dragnet to the big and small screens in the 1950s, and he resurrected the show for a late 1960s run.With its focus on the mechanics of crime-solving (including forensics, interrogation, and stake-outs) the influence of Dragnet can still be felt in police dramas today. During the shoot of He Walked By Night (1948), Webb struck up a friendship with the film’s Los Angeles Police Department technical adviser, Sgt. Marty Wynn.  The two discussed how police officers were depicted in films and on the radio and how far that portrayal strayed from the real day-in, day-out work of a policeman.  Webb thought that a realistic representation of policework could be a hit.  Convincing a network would prove to be tricky. NBC wasn’t enthusiastic when Webb pitched them the series.  Police shows were a dime a dozen on radio, and the network did not see the merits of adding one more to its schedule.  Two things helped sell the series.  The first was Webb himself, who in 1949 had returned to Pat Novak for Hire for a run over ABC’s national network and was making a name for himself.  The second was the network’s recent loss of big stars like Jack Benny, Red Skelton, and George Burns and Gracie Allen to CBS in a raid of comedic talent.   In need of programming, NBC commissioned an audition program.  Webb and writer James Moser already had a script prepared, but they needed the cooperation of the Los Angeles Police Department.  Without it, Webb couldn’t hope to leverage the department’s case files and official procedures.  Then-Chief of Police Clemence B. Horrall granted permission with two conditions.  First, the LAPD would get to okay the program’s sponsors.  Second, the department would not be portrayed in an unflattering light (as a result, certain practices - including allegations of department racism and corruption - were not addressed on the series). In the program’s first years, Barton Yarborough co-starred as Sgt. Ben Romero, Friday’s partner on the force. When Yarborough passed away unexpectedly in 1951, Friday was partnered with a handful of officers before being paired with Frank Smith (voiced by former child actor Ben Alexander). Friday and Smith would remain on the job through the end of the radio series and on into the television run. Webb said goodbye to Dragnet to focus on his production company and his work as a producer of new shows.  In the 1960s, however, he worked with NBC to revive the series for a four season run.  At the time, Ben Alexander was unavailable and actor Harry Morgan (Col. Potter on M*A*S*H*) played Friday’s new partner Bill Gannon.  Another revival was planned for the early 1980s but was scrapped when Webb passed away.  The man who had done so much to change the perception of police officers was honored by them; Joe Friday’s badge number was retired and the LAPD flew its flags at half staff after Webb’s passing.  Since then, Dragnet has endured in reruns, remakes, and the style that Jack Webb took a gamble on nearly 70 years ago.

“Petri Wine brings you…The Casebook of Gregory Hood!” Sam Spade and Pat Novak weren’t the only detectives to call San Francisco home during the Golden Age of Radio. But while they had the seedier sides of the city covered, Gregory Hood’s beat brought him to the finest restaurants, swankiest nightclubs, and poshest museums of the city of the Golden Gate. Though not a hard-boiled, two-fisted detective, Gregory Hood had a keen eye and a knack for getting into trouble…even if his day job was imports and not investigations. Gregory Hood was an unlicensed, untrained detective, though he had an extensive knowledge of several fields including art, antiques, wines, and fine foods. While those may not be the qualities associated with a master sleuth, most of Hood’s cases came to him in the course of his work, and they often involved an artistic angle. He had no fans on the police force; as an unlicensed amateur, he was even worse than a private eye butting in on their territory. However, he had a confidant and frequent partner in Sanderson “Sandy” Taylor, the attorney for Gregory Hood Importers and a close friend. Sandy was along for the ride to provide back-up (and to stand in as an audience surrogate when Hood explained how he’d cracked the case). If the relationship between Greg and Sandy sounds similar to the partnership between Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, it’s no coincidence. The Casebook of Gregory Hood was the brainchild of Anthony Boucher and Dennis Green, the scriptwriters for The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce as a summer replacement for Holmes and Watson. Hood and Holmes shared not only writers, but also a sponsor (Petri Wine - “the family that took time to bring you good wine”); an announcer (actor and occasional pitchman Harry Bartell); and a format where the announcer would visit the characters and hear about their latest adventure. As an unofficial detective, Gregory Hood usually came by his cases by accident. Dinner parties ended in murder; rare antiques were stolen; and one mystery began when Greg and Sandy were on a camping trip in the mountains. In the episode we’ll hear this week, pulling over to aid a man in distress on the side of the road lands Hood in a murder case. Radio’s first Gregory Hood was Gale Gordon, an actor better known today for his comedic chops than dramatic roles. He played Mayor LaTrivia on Fibber McGee & Molly; Mr. Scott, the sponsor’s representative on The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show; and most famously the stuffy Principal Osgood Conklin on Our Miss Brooks. Gordon co-starred on My Favorite Husband, the radio show that spawned I Love Lucy on television. He was Lucille Ball’s first choice to play Fred Mertz, but his commitment to the Our Miss Brooks TV series cost him the job. He’d go on to work with Ball in her later TV shows The Lucy Show (as her harried boss, Mr. Mooney), Here’s Lucy, and Life with Lucy. Gordon was a master of the comedic slow burn, and he may not be the first name that springs to mind when you think of a radio detective. But in addition to those laugh roles, he starred as The Whistler on radio, and he was the first actor to portray Flash Gordon on the air. Gordon could convey the sophistication and charm of Gregory Hood, but he could also get across the resolve and determination to close a case. Like Jackson Beck’s Philo Vance, Gregory Hood was a man who appeared deceptively harmless to his enemies only to later reveal a sharp mind and a nose for information. Gordon played Gregory Hood for the first 17 episodes of the program. During that run, Sandy Taylor was played by several actors, including Bill Johnstone (Lt. Guthrie of The Line-Up) and Howard McNear. When Gordon stepped out, Elliott Lewis assumed the title role. Lewis was still a few years away from directing Broadway is My Beat and Suspense. He was about to begin his role of ne’er-do-well sidekick Frankie Remley on The Phil Harris-Alice Faye Show; ironically, his Remley and Gordon’s Scott would frequently feud on that program in what amounted to fights Gregory Hood had with himself. Lewis kept the role for the duration of the program’s run on the Mutual network. The program came back for a 1950-1951 run on ABC with Jackson Beck and other actors taking on the role. Gregory Hood is a classic example of the gentleman detective, a character just as important to crime fiction as his hard-boiled brother. Pat Novak and Sam Spade covered the waterfront, but Gregory Hood could be counted on to detect the clues and crack the cases among society’s upper crust.

One of radio’s finest dramas rode into town on April 26, 1952 with the premiere broadcast of Gunsmoke. The series was created at the request of CBS president William Paley who wanted a “Philip Marlowe in the old West.” After the idea kicked around without gaining any traction, producer/director Norman Macdonnell and writer John Meston developed their idea for a Western made for adults, without the simple “good guys vs. bad guys” feel of The Lone Ranger and other programs. Macdonnell and Meston created Gunsmoke, the story of US Marshal Matt Dillon - “the first man they look for and the last they want to meet.” Dillon wasn’t a white hat hero - he was a man trying to put his violent past behind him as he fought to keep the peace in Dodge City, Kansas.  John Meston's writing was hailed by producer/director Macdonnell, and Meston would go on to write 183 radio episodes and 196 television episodes of Gunsmoke. Meston was keen to avoid the traits of the stereotypical western hero in his depiction of Dillon, saying “Life and his enemies have left him looking a little beat-up. There’d have to be something wrong with him or he wouldn’t have been hired on as a United States marshal in the heyday of Dodge City, Kansas.” William Conrad won the role of Dillon, and he gave the character a weary humor but an absolute fury when needed. Supporting Conrad was one of radio’s greatest supporting casts. Parley Baer was Chester Proudfoot, Dillon’s amiable deputy. Howard McNear was “Doc” Adams, the town physician with a ghoulish demeanor (and, as one episode revealed, a past in Richmond, Virginia involving a duel with a romantic rival). Georgia Ellis was Kitty Russell, proprietor of Dodge’s Long Branch Saloon, as well as a friend, confidant, and lover of Matt Dillon. The relationship between Kitty and William Conrad's Matt Dillon was a key component of the show. Though her true profession was never explicitly stated on the show, in a 1953 interview, producer/director Norman Madconnell said "Kitty is just someone Matt has to visit every once in a while. We never say it, but Kitty is a prostitute, plain and simple." But their relationship was more than what it appeared to be. As Ellis herself said "There was no forgiveness to be given because I don't think Kitty was available to anybody but Matt." Supporting roles were filled out by some of the best actors in Hollywood radio, many of whom had worked with Macdonnell in other shows like Escape and Philip Marlowe - John Dehner, Larry Dobkin, Harry Bartell, Vivi Janiss, Jeanette Nolan, and more. The landscape of Dodge City and its saloons and jail cells was created by Ray Kemper. Kemper’s sounds were as essential a part of that program’s success as the acting and the writing. Dodge City came to life with the sounds generated by Kemper and his effects team. To create the sound of a beer being poured at the Long Branch Saloon, a warm can of soda was used. Old microphone cable was twisted together to make the sound of a man mounting his saddle. The sound men are often the unsung heroes of old time radio, and Ray Kemper was one of the finest. The series presented the grim realities of the west - sickness, death, loneliness - more than any program that came before. Matt Dillon wasn't an infallible hero; he struggled with doubt and disillusionment, and he didn't always get his man. the series paved the way for the new genre of mature Westerns on radio, and it spawned a television adaptation that ran for twenty seasons on CBS. The radio cast lobbied to reprise their roles, but the core characters were recast; even Norman Macdonnell was initially passed over for the TV show; he eventually came on board in 1956, and he guided the program to the number one rating from 1957 until 1961. Today, the radio Gunsmoke (which ran from 1952 to 1961) stands as one of the finest dramatic programs from the Golden Age of Radio.

“I was sitting in my office shooting paper clips at a King size horse fly. It was a little sadistic but he was bigger than I was. Well, about the time I had him down on his knees begging for mercy, the door opened…” (Richard Diamond, Private Detective) There’s nothing in Dick Powell’s early career to suggest he was destined to play hard-boiled private eyes.  Had his bosses at Warner Brothers had their way, he’d have stayed in the song-and-dance roles on which he built his career.  But thanks to a gamble by a director, Powell kicked off a new chapter to his career and the result were some great radio shows, including one of the medium’s best - Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Powell got his start in Hollywood in the 30s as a singer in Warner Brothers musicals, including 42nd Street, and On the Avenue.  He was frequently cast in the role of a boyish crooner, even as he approached his 40s.  Despite his success, Powell was eager to expand into other roles.  His efforts were resisted by Warner Brothers, who wanted to keep Powell right where he was, even if he thought it was the wrong place to be.  He pursued the lead role in Double Indemnity, but it ultimately went to another actor pegged in “nice guy” roles - Fred MacMurray.  But later in 1944, RKO and director Edward Dmytryk gave Powell the role he’d been waiting for - Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, the film adaptation of the Marlowe novel Farewell, My Lovely.  The film was a success, and Powell received rave reviews for his performance.  In a flash, he had shed the crooner image he’d been desperate to shake and he embarked on the next stage of his career. Powell recreated his role as Marlowe on the June 11, 1945 Lux Radio Theater broadcast of Murder, My Sweet, and he starred as private detective Richard Rogue in Rogue’s Gallery from 1945 to 1946.  While it was a fine series, it failed to stand out from the crowd of hard-boiled private eyes littering the airwaves in the postwar years.  For his next radio effort, Powell wanted to “make something a little bit different of a standard vehicle.”  He recorded an audition show as “the man with the action packed expense account,” Johnny Dollar, but he passed on the series for a show that sprang from the mind of Blake Edwards.  Edwards would later create the outstanding police procedural The Line-Up for radio, develop Peter Gunn for television, and would become a celebrated writer and director of film arguably most famous for the Pink Panther film series with Peter Sellers. Powell and his producer, Don Sharp, asked Edwards if he had any ideas for a vehicle for Powell.  Edwards said he did (a lie), and went home to write what would become the pilot for Richard Diamond, Private Detective.  In Edwards’ original script, Diamond was a former OSS agent; he would evolve into an ex-cop.  One trait he would retain as the script evolved was that Diamond was as quick with a quip as he was with his fists.  This played to Powell’s natural comedic strengths, and it helped to give the show a unique voice in the sea of detective programs from the era.  Unlike other radio shamuses, Diamond would keep up a friendly relationship with his old colleagues on the force - Lt. Walt Levinson, his former partner; and the oafish Sgt. Otis Ludlum, the long-suffering butt of Diamond’s jokes.  Diamond flirted with every skirt that came through his office door, but he only had eyes for his Park Avenue girlfriend, Helen Asher.  Shows would often close at her apartment, where Diamond would sum up his case and (in a nod to Powell’s old career) Helen might coax him to do a little singing. Richard Diamond, Private Detective premiered on NBC on April 24, 1949.  Powell was supported by Virginia Gregg as Helen; Ed Begley as Levinson; and Wilms Herbert doing double duty as Sgt. Otis and as Helen’s butler, Francis.  Joseph Kearns, Peggy Webber, Bill Johnstone, Jack Kruschen, and other West Coast actors filled out the cast.  Later in the show’s run, Frances Robinson would take over the role of Helen, and Ted de Corsia, Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer Fudd), and Alan Reed (Fred Flinstone) would rotate in and out as Levinson.  The show ran without a sponsor for the first year before being picked up by the Rexall Drug Company (“Good health to all from Rexall!”) in June 1950.  In January 1951, the show switched networks and picked up Camel cigarettes as its new sponsor.  The show took its final bow on June 27, 1952 (although repeats popped up in the summer of 1953).  Powell pulled the plug on the show as he entered a third phase of his career as a successful director and producer. It was in this capacity that Powell brought Richard Diamond to television in 1957 for a four-season run starring David Janssen in the title role, minus the crooning of the radio series.  Janssen would later star as Dr. Richard Kimble on The Fugitive.  The Diamond TV show is perhaps best known today for its character of Diamond’s secretary, Sam, who was only shown from the waist down to show off her legs.  The first actress to furnish Sam’s legs was a young Mary Tyler Moore.

Actor Al Hodge was born April 18, 1912. He made a name for himself as two famous heroes - as Captain Video on television and The Green Hornet on radio. When he wasn’t starring as Britt Reid on WXYZ in Detroit, Hodge worked as a disc jockey, a football announcer, and a producer of other shows on the station, including The Lone Ranger. Hodge was radio’s longest-running Hornet, and its his voice that may be most associated with the character. In 1950, he took over the role of space ranger Captain Video and played the part on the DuPoint Network until 1955. Outside of that series, he could be seen on Naked City, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and more.

For multiple generations of kids - those who listened on radio and saw the theatrical cartoons and later those who tuned in for the Filmation TV series - Joan Alexander was the voice of Lois Lane. Born April 16, 1915, she was a model and an actress touring with the Yiddish theater before she got into radio. Her birth name was Louise Abrass; she took the first name Joan after big screen star Joan Crawford. Joan Alexander worked extensively on the air with major roles on several daytime soaps like Lone Journey, Light of the World and This Is Nora Drake. She was in the "girl Friday" business for a pair of radio detectives as Della Street on Perry Mason and Ellen Deering, secretary to Jackson Beck's Philo Vance. Elsewhere, she could be heard on Dimension X, Crime Club, Barrie Craig, and more. But it's the role of Lois Lane, tough, resourceful reporter, for which Joan Alexander is best remembered. She was the third actress to play the role, but she was cast early in the run and made the part her own. Alexander would co-star with Clayton "Bud" Collyer (voice of Clark Kent and Superman) in over 1,600 radio episodes. The two also voiced their characters in the popular (and still riveting, even today) Superman cartoons produced by Fleischer Studios and released theatrically. From 1940 until 1951, Joan Alexander gave voice to one of the most well-known comic book characters of all time, and she helped to cement the character of Lois as a heroine in her own right. Almost every subsequent portrayal of the star reporter owes something to Alexander's performance. Bud Collyer loved working with her, telling a reporter that "Joan is one of those rare actresses -- especially in radio where you can't be seen and have to depend entirely on voice -- who can go in on something cold and her instincts are so right as an actress that without even a rehearsal or a read-through, she is right." The two reunited in 1966 as Lois and Clark in The New Adventures of Superman, an animated Saturday morning series produced by Filmation. 

“Out of the fog, out of the night, and into his American adventures comes…Bulldog Drummond!” The idea of the gentleman detective conjures up images of smoking jackets and walking sticks: characters like Philo Vance who were as handsome as they were insightful. Captain Hugh Drummond broke that mold. Created by H.C. McNeile, the detective and adventurer is a powerfully built hulk of a man with a face that led to his nickname - “Bulldog.” A veteran of World War I, Drummond was a crack shot, good with his fists, talented at poker, and hungry for thrills and excitement. He became one of the most popular sleuths of early Hollywood and the success he enjoyed led to a stint fighting evildoers on the radio. McNeile introduced Drummond first in a story in The Strand. He later reworked the character for a 1920 novel. Like George Valentine, Drummond found post-war life to be dull and took out an advertisement in search of adventure wherever it could be found. His ad memorably read: “Demobilised [sic] officer, finding peace incredibly tedious, would welcome diversion. Legitimate, if possible; but crime, if of a comparatively humorous description, no objection. Excitement essential.” The ad is answered by a young woman concerned for her father’s safety, and she leads Drummond to a Communist plot to take over England. His client, Phyllis Benton, became Mrs. Drummond, and the mastermind of the plot, Carl Peterson, became Bulldog’s arch nemesis. McNeile went on to write ten Drummond novels, five short stories, and three plays before his death in 1937. McNeile’s friend Gerald Fairlie picked up the mantle and wrote an additional seven Drummond novels between 1937 and 1957. The character proved very popular in England and influential to boot: Ian Fleming stated that James Bond was Bulldog Drummond from the waist up and Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer below. After two silent films in the early 1920s, Bulldog Drummond was released as a talkie in 1929. Ronald Colman earned an Academy Award nomination for his portrayal of Drummond, and the film was hailed by critics. Colman’s portrayal of Drummond as debonair and dashing eventually supplanted the rougher around the edges character of McNeile’s books; the subsequent films (including a second turn by Colman in 1934) continued the characterization of Drummond as a more sophisticated gentleman adventurer. Ray Milland starred in 1937’s Bulldog Drummond Escapes before John Howard made the role his own in seven B-movies for Paramount. It was the success of the film series that spurred interest in a radio series. Producer Hiram Brown (Inner Sanctum Mysteries, as well as another series about a dapper British sleuth - The Private Files of Rex Saunders) packaged the series. Captain Drummond came to radio in 1941 and was originally played by George Coulouris. Coulouris was a veteran of Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre and he’d appeared with Welles in Citizen Kane. He starred as Drummond until March 1942 when he was succeeded by Santos Ortega. Ortega was a busy radio character actor; he played Inspector Queen on Ellery Queen, Commissioner Weston on The Shadow, and was also heard as Charlie Chan and in supporting roles on The Adventures of Superman, usually in villainous roles. Ortega stayed with the series for a year, and his replacement was another actor with a track record at radio crime-solving. Ned Wever stepped into Bulldog Drummond’s shoes with the March 15, 1943 broadcast and he stayed with the show until 1949. Wever was a regular player on The Adventures of Superman; he played Jor-El in the series’ premiere episode and he appeared as “The Wolf,” the first villain the Man of Steel encountered on radio. Coincidentally, in another early serial, he and fellow radio Bulldog Santos Ortega played crooked mine owners who swindled their investors. Later, he played a Nazi agent (more than slightly inspired by Sydney Greenstreet’s Kasper Gutman) during the program’s memorable “Atom Man” story arc. On the right side of the law, he played Dick Tracy on radio, and his clipped, authoritative delivery was perfect for the dapper British gentleman detective as he’d been reinvented on screen and on the radio. The McNeile novels had introduced the character of James Denny, Drummond’s wartime batman and landlord of Drummond’s apartment building. Denny made the jump to radio, where he was reworked as Drummond’s valet and sidekick. Everett Sloane (another Mercury Theatre veteran) played Denny for much of the series, alongside Coulouris, Ortega, and Wever. The supporting casts included several great radio actors, including Jackson Beck (Philo Vance) and Mercedes McCambridge (Defense Attorney). In his radio adventures, Bulldog Drummond tackled all manner of crimes - hijackers, atomic spies, gangsters, and killers all went up against the poised captain…and lost. Despite the character’s popularity at the time (the radio series ran until 1954, with Cedric Hardwicke in the role for the final year), Bulldog Drummond has been left behind by popular culture. Aside from a brief James Bond-inspired revival in the late 1960s, the character remains a war-years relic. It’s too bad; the B-movies (many of them available on public domain collections of mystery films) are enjoyable romps, and the radio series is a good listen. Hopefully you’ll enjoy rediscovering Bulldog Drummond or meeting him for the first time as he steps out of the fog.

“Calling Nick Carter!  Another case for Nick Carter, Master Detective.  Yes, it’s another case for that most famous of all manhunters, the detective whose ability at solving crimes is unequaled in the history of detective fiction - Nick Carter, Master Detective!” In 1886, readers were introduced to a brilliant detective, a master of both disguise and deduction, who tackled the cases that baffled the police.  Think you know who it is?  If you guessed Sherlock Holmes, you’re a year too early.  Arthur Conan Doyle’s first Holmes adventure was published in 1887, one year after the debut of Nick Carter, a character who went from dime novels to pulp magazines, and then to film and later radio.  Though not as well known today, Nick Carter enjoyed a long career as one of America’s most celebrated detectives. Carter’s first adventure was “The Old Detective’s Pupil,” which appeared in the September 18, 1886 issue of Street & Smith’s New York Weekly.  Street & Smith were one of the largest publishers of dime novels in the country; in fact, the plot of the first Nick Carter story was dreamed up by Ormond G. Smith, son of one of the magazine’s founders.  Writer John Russell Coryell wrote the story and two more before he decided there was more money in writing romances.  The character was turned over to writer Frederick Rensselaer Dey, who penned a Carter novel (25,000 words) each week for seventeen years.  Carter became so popular that Street & Smith launched a separate magazine devoted to his exploits. Nick Carter was a clean-cut, teetotaling, private detective.  He had an encyclopedic knowledge of the world and possessed almost superhuman strength; he could “lift a horse with ease…while a heavy man is seated in the saddle."  Nick had been groomed for the gumshoe game from birth by his father, a famous detective named "Old Sim” Carter.  Based in a ritzy New York apartment, Nick’s cases would take him all around the world.  And he was famous all over the world, too.  In 1908, the first of three Nick Carter film serials hit French movie screens, with sequels following in 1909 and 1912. By 1915, the solo Nick Carter magazine had folded, but the character continued to make appearances in Street & Smith’s Detective Story Magazine.  Later, after the company found pulp novel success with the exploits of The Shadow and others, Nick Carter was back in his own pulp magazine.  In 1939, Hollywood came calling (albeit several years after French film producers), and Walter Pidgeon starred as Nick in three movies from MGM. When the character came to radio in 1943, it was in The Return of Nick Carter.  Those early shows tipped their hat to the character’s pulp origins with subtitled adventures (for example, “Murder in the Crypt…or Nick Carter and the Jackal God”).  Actor Lon Clark, a former opera singer, took the role of Nick and kept it until the series left the air in 1955.  His 12 years as Nick Carter are bested only by Bennett Kilpatrick’s 13 years as Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.  On radio, Carter was presented in the clean-cut mold from the pulps.  He had a fancy brownstone house with a crime lab and shooting range in the basement where he’d work out cases with his friends and colleagues Patsy Bowen and reporter “Scubby” Wilson.  They’d be called in, sometimes relcutantly, by Sgt. Mathison (affectionately known as “Matty” to Nick) on tough crimes that left the NYPD stumped. Clark was supported by Helen Choate (a former radio Lois Lane) and later Charlotte Manson as Patsy.  Ed Latimer provided the thick Irish brogue for Matty for much of the series.  Scripts came from Walter B. Gibson, who wrote the pulp novels and fleshed out the history of Carter’s Street & Smith stablemate, The Shadow.  Other writers on the show were Edith Meiser, who contributed scripts for Sherlock Holmes, and sci-fi author Alfred Bester.  Walter Gibson also worked on the series’ short-lived spin-off Chick Carter, Boy Detective (Chick was Nick’s adopted son who followed in the family business). The show, later retitled Nick Carter, Master Detective, aired on the Mutual Network until September 25, 1955 - outlasting several of the better known gumshoes of the Golden Age of Radio.  When the radio series ended, Carter didn’t hang up his badge and gun.  He was resurrected in the 1960s as a James Bondian secret agent in over 200 Nick Carter - Killmaster novels.  In 1972, Robert Conrad, late of The Wild Wild West, starred as Carter in a turn of the century mystery set in the Victorian Era that would have served as a pilot for a new series.  Unfortunately, this didn’t get picked up, but Nick Carter is still kicking over a century after he first appeared in print.  His mix of brains and derring-do, with a healthy dose of pulp heroics, are well worth rediscovering or enjoying for the first time.

“You met The Falcon first in his best-selling novels, then you saw him in his thrilling motion picture series.  Now, join him on the air when The Falcon solves…The Case of the Flaming Club!” Some radio detectives originated in the pages of novels and short stories, while others transitioned from the big screen to the airwaves.  In the case of The Falcon, it was a little of each as two different characters were blended into one of radio’s longest-running sleuths. The first Falcon was introduced by Drexel Drake in a 1936 novel The Falcon’s Prey.  Drake’s Falcon, featured in multiple novels and stories, was Malcolm Wingate, a shadowy crime-fighter and Robin Hood figure born in America but raised in England.  Aided by an ex-cop nicknamed “Sarge,” the Falcon preyed on evildoers and came to the aid of the oppressed. Drake’s Falcon predated Gay Stanhorpe Falcon, a freelance adventurer created by Michael Arlen in his 1940 short story “The Gay Falcon.”  It was this Falcon who came to the big screen in 1941 with George Sanders (fresh off a movie run as The Saint) starring as the character.  As if that wasn’t complicated enough, the movie (and its sequels) changed the character’s name to Gay Lawrence, with no explanation of how he earned the name “The Falcon.”  The Falcon of the films began as a replacement for The Saint at RKO, but he evolved into more of a classic private detective.  In fact, his third movie, The Falcon Takes Over (1942), was an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely with The Falcon subbing in for Philip Marlowe.  After four movies, Sanders had enough and his real-life brother Tom Conway took over the franchise as “Tom Lawrence” in The Falcon’s Brother, and played the role for eight more movies. The success of the films led to a radio version in 1943.  The Falcon of the radio was a private eye named Michael Waring, neither the Drake character nor the Arlen character.  The radio series referred to the Falcon’s past in novels and in films, and Drexel Drake was credited as the character’s creator on the air.  Just to add another wrinkle to the genealogy of the character, the Waring Falcon hit the big screen in three films starring John Calvert. Berry Kroger was the first actor to play Waring on the air, and he was succeeded by James Meighan.  For the bulk of the run, The Falcon was played by Les Tremayne and Les Damon.  The actors shared several roles along with their first name; in addition to The Falcon, they each took a turn starring as Nick Charles in The Adventures of The Thin Man.  George Petrie, who played radio private eye Charlie Wild and District Attorney Markham on Philo Vance, was the last actor to play The Falcon on the air. Most of the shows began with The Falcon answering a phone call from one of his many lovely female companions.  He’d politely decline their company for the evening before offering a tease of the adventure he was about to undertake.  Like his radio private eye brethren, Waring’s cases were about equally divided between clients seeking his help and the police calling him in on tough-to-crack cases.  In the early 1950s, owing to the popularity of espionage programs, The Falcon became an intelligence agent for the US Government.  His work took him overseas where he battled enemy spies with the same skills he used on gangsters back in the Big Apple. Despite the long run of the program (The Falcon aired from 1943 until 1954 in multiple runs over NBC and Mutual), only about 100 episodes survive.  Most of them come from the Tremayne/Damon years, so listeners today can hear a mix of Falcon adventures both foreign and domestic.  With his mix of hard-boiled private eye and suave gentleman adventurer, The Falcon is a great character with whom to spend an evening.

“I rarely leave my house. I do like it here. I would be an idiot to leave this chair, made to fit me.” (Rex Stout, Before I Die) Nero Wolfe made his first appearance in 1934, and his adventures are still being enjoyed nearly eighty years later in books, TV shows, and - beginning on April 7, 1943 - radio dramas.  Not bad for a man who hated leaving his house more than nearly anything in the world. Wolfe, the eccentric genius who weighs a seventh of a ton, was created by writer Rex Stout.  Stout made a tidy sum inventing a system to track the money school children saved in their accounts, and he used his earnings and royalties to travel the world and embark on a career as a writer.  His first Wolfe novel, Fer-de-Lance, was published in 1934, and Stout would go on to write 33 novels and 39 stories featuring Wolfe until his death in 1975.  Over the course of the novels and stories, Stout fleshed out the character, who enjoyed fine food and good beer, tended to his orchids, and solved mysteries when he had to earn a fee, always with the aid of his assistant (and the narrator of the stories), Archie Goodwin. Stout’s brilliant stroke was to combine two archetypes of detective fiction into one duo.  Nero Wolfe was a classic refined detective in the mold of Sherlock Holmes, right down to his eccentricities, anti-social personality, and acute agoraphobia.  He could listen to clues as they were presented to him in his drawing room and deduce the solution to a crime without ever leaving the chair especially designed for his massive weight.  At his side was Archie, a more streetwise sleuth in the mold of (though not nearly as hard-boiled) Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe.  Archie carried a gun and had an eye for a blonde like his brethren, but he drank milk instead of bourbon and he had a playful demeanor - particularly with his boss and their frequent foil on the police force, Inspector Cramer.  Wolfe came to the screen in 1934 and 1937, but it would take almost ten years for the character to make his radio debut.  From 1943 to 1944, ABC aired The Adventures of Nero Wolfe which starred J.B. Williams, Santos Ortega, and Luis Van Rooten as Wolfe during various points in the run.  A falling out between ABC and Stout’s representatives prevented the series from continuing, but a new version would premier on the Mutual Network in 1946.  Francis X. Bushman starred as Wolfe, with Elliott Lewis, a veteran radio actor who would soon take the director’s chair on Suspense, as Archie.   But it is the 1950 NBC series The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe that is most fondly remembered and which came the closest to capturing the essence of Stout’s stories.  First and foremost, they found an actor who could fully embody Wolfe’s larger than life persona - Sydney Greenstreet. A longtime theater actor, Greenstreet’s big break came as Kasper Gutman (“The Fat Man”) opposite Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon in 1941 at age 62. After receiving an Academy Award nomination for the role, Greenstreet appeared in films like Casablanca, The Mask of Demetrios, and Across the Pacific.  At age 71, he was cast as Wolfe, and his trademark characteristics - arched speech, droll laugh, deliberate intonation - perfectly fit Nero Wolfe’s larger than life personality. Over the course of the series, no fewer than six actors were heard as Archie Goodwin. Each of the first three episodes featured a different Archie: Wally Maher (October 20); Lamont Johnson (October 27); and Herb Ellis (November 10). Beginning on November 24, actor Larry Dobkin assumed the role.  Dobkin had previously been heard as Louie the cab driver on The Saint and as Detective Lt. Matthews on The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.  After eight episodes, Dobkin left and his old co-star Gerald Mohr voiced Goodwin for the next four episodes. Mohr was on a radio detective roll; he had just wrapped his two-year run as Marlowe and would return for a Marlowe summer series a few months after his gig as Archie came to a close.  Harry Bartell, a veteran of Escape and Dragnet as well as the Petri Wine announcer for The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, stepped into Archie’s shoes for the final ten episodes of the series. Why so many Archies to one Nero?  There’s no definite answer.  Some have said it was because Greenstreet was difficult to work with; others speculate the revolving door of co-stars was a sign of retooling to see if the ratings would improve. And while the series was well done, with even Rex Stout praising Greenstreet’s performance (he was less complimentary of the program itself), it did not fare well enough in the ratings to earn a second year.  The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe wrapped up its run on April 27, 1951.  Fortunately for fans, the entire series run are available in great condition.  One can listen to the full run and hear Greenstreet lend his one-of-a-kind voice to Wolfe, and even with so many actors playing Archie Goodwin, none is sub-par.  Each brings his own style to the character while staying true to Stout’s creation.  And backing up Greenstreet and his Goodwins every week are a great cast, including Bill Johnstone as Inspector Cramer, Howard MacNear, Betty Lou Gerson, Peter Leeds, and Barney Phillips. Click here to check out some of the adventures of Nero Wolfe I've featured on the podcast, including an episode starring Francis X. Bushman as the big man.

G-Man crime drama This is Your FBI premiered on April 6, 1945. Hailed as “the finest dramatic program on the air” by FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, the show featured dramatizations of actual Bureau case files. Of the many FBI-themed programs on the air, This is Your FBI was the only one endorsed by the agency. Hoover himself made an appearance on the program’s first episode to lend his seal of approval. (The long-running The FBI in Peace and War was based on Frederick W. Collins' book of the same name, but it was not sanctioned by the Bureau.) The series was created and produced by Jerry Devine, a former comedy writer who switched to drama. Before he entered the world of the FBI, Devine wrote scripts for Mr. District Attorney. He was welcomed with open arms by Hoover, and he was granted a two-week crash course at the FBI academy before he launched the program. Devine stayed abreast of new developments in FBI techniques with regular visits to headquarters in Washington. Stacy Harris (above), a frequent player on Dragnet and Gunsmoke, starred as FBI Special Agent Jim Taylor, dispatched all around the country in pursuit of fraudsters, spies, counterfeiters, and robbers. The radio’s G-men were on the air until January 30, 1953.

On April 3, 1939, Mr. District Attorney launched his radio crusade for law and order - a campaign that would last on the air until 1952.  The series was created by Ed Byron, a former law student who collaborated with Gang Busters creator Phillips H. Lord. Loosely inspired by New York Governor (and future legendary losing presidential candidate) Thomas E. Dewey fight against racketeers, the series chronicled the efforts of the unnamed prosecutor as he battled criminals. For most of the run, the DA was played by Jay Jostyn, but Dwight Weist and Raymond Edward Johnson played him early in the run. Jostyn's portrayal of the upstanding district attorney was so convincing, that, according to a 1952 Radio-TV Mirror article, “He is so generally believed to be a real life lawyer that he frequently receives mail from listeners inviting him to move to certain cities where they feel crimes are going unsolved.” Vicki Vola portrayed the DA's loyal secretary Miss Miller, and Len Doyle played the DA's chief investigator Len Harrington. The trio formed one of radio's best crime-solving units, tracking down crooks played by some of the best actors in East Coast radio. The show spawned a pair of TV shows, one featuring the radio cast and the second starring David Brian as the DA. By that time, the prosecutor had been given the name Paul Garrett, and Brian would reprise the role for a final run of syndicated radio episodes.

Is there anybody who doesn’t know Dragnet?  Even if you don’t know the series or couldn’t pick Jack Webb out of a line-up, chances are you know the distinct “dum-da-dum-dum” opening.  Like the eerie sounds of the theme to The Twilight Zone, the opening notes of the Dragnet march have become shorthand for someone in trouble about to get busted, or the arrival of an authority figure on the scene.  This writer discovered the taut police series in between Get Smart and The Dick Van Dyke Show on Nick at Nite in the early nineties, and it wasn’t until years later that he discovered the radio series.  It’s hard for modern audiences to appreciate just how revolutionary Dragnet was when it hit radio.  The style it perfected and the approach to docudrama realism it produced can still be seen in TV procedural programs and films today, more than sixty years after it premiered. The series was the brainchild of actor, writer, and producer Jack Webb. Born April 2, 1920, there was more to the man than Joe Friday’s no-nonsense demeanor.  Webb was a talented writer, director, and producer, a music aficionado, and - perhaps least well known - a man with a wicked sense of humor.  Along with Rod Serling and Quinn Martin, Webb was arguably one of the biggest creative forces in the Golden Age of Television, and he is undeniably a legend of the Golden Age of Radio. Webb grew up in Los Angeles.  His father left before Webb was born, and Webb was raised by his mother and grandmother.  As a boy, Webb grew up with a love of movies and jazz music, the latter cultivated by a jazzman tenant in his mother’s rooming house. He enlisted in the Air Force in World War II, but he did not make it through flight training (in his words, he “washed out”).  After his discharge, Webb moved to San Francisco where he got into radio.  The lack of announcers due to the war left vacancies on the schedule of ABC’s San Francisco affiliate KGO, and Webb served as an announcer, DJ, and as host of his own comedy show, The Jack Webb Show, a sketch comedy series that poked fun at current events and featured a house band playing Dixieland jazz numbers.  His comedy career on the air would be short-lived, as he turned his attention to the crime genre that would come to define his output for the rest of his career. During his time at KGO, Webb struck up a friendship with writer Richard Breen and the two collaborated on The Jack Webb Show.  The two were approached to fill some holes in KGO’s programming schedule, and they created a character who was perfectly suited for Webb’s downbeat, naturalistic style.  He would be a detective of the hard-boiled school, operating out of an office on the San Francisco waterfront, and he would deliver some of the purplest dialogue this side of a pulp novel. Pat Novak For Hire premiered on KGO in 1946 and was a hit almost immediately.  The combination of Webb’s voice and Breen’s words were unlike anything radio listeners had heard up until that point.  Novak was cynical and world-weary, and he had great reason to be both.  He was often double-crossed by his clients; he rarely got the girl; and he was always on the outs with the law, particularly with the block-headed Inspector Hellman.  His only friend (if you could call him that) was Jocko Madigan, an ex-doctor and full-time boozer who could come to Novak’s aid, but not without dropping a ton of unwanted tipsy advice on Novak. Despite the success, Webb and Breen jumped ship for reasons that have never fully been explained.  ABC soldiered on with Ben Morris stepping in as the new Pat Novak, while Breen and Webb set up shop on Mutual with the very similar program Johnny Madero, Pier 23.  Listeners didn’t take to Morris in the role, and the series signed off in early 1948.  Webb continued in the detective business, and he starred for a season as Jeff Regan, Investigator for CBS before returning to Pat Novak for a national run on ABC in 1949.  It was during this period where Webb was beginning to get the ideas for what would become his signature series and role. In 1948, Webb played the role of a crime scene technician in He Walked By Night.  During breaks in the filming, he struck up a friendship with the movie’s technical advisor, Sgt. Marty Wynn.  Webb believed there was an opportunity to dramatically depict police work in an authentic manner; most radio shows (including Webb’s own Pat Novak and Jeff Regan usually played cops as incompetent at best and corrupt at worst).  Working with Wynn and other police officers, along with writer James Moser, Webb pitched the concept to NBC.  That series would become Dragnet, and its combination of authentic cases and a “ripped from the headlines” style with Webb’s signature realistic approach made for a series that - once again - was unlike anything radio audiences had heard. Webb starred as Sgt. Joe Friday, the epitome of a professional policeman, who rotated in and out of different divisions of the LAPD (Homicide, Narcotics, Traffic, etc.).  This allowed Webb and his team to tell a full range of stories, all taken from LAPD files.  Sometimes there was a corpse and the thrill of the hunt of a killer; in other episodes, there were stake-outs and spent shoe leather running down leads.  Through it all, Webb pushed for authenticity: “We try to make cops human beings.  We try to combine the best qualities of the men I’ve seen downtown, incorporate their way of speaking, make a composite.” Dragnet exploded in popularity not long after it premiered in 1949.  A TV version followed in 1951 and a film version hit the big screen in 1954.  Even during this time, when he was on Dragnet twice a week on radio and TV, Webb continued to work elsewhere.  He starred in the short-lived 1951 radio crime drama Pete Kelly’s Blues, which incorporated his love of jazz into the mystery stories. Big screen success eluded Webb, and after a few misfires at the box office in the late 1950s, he was back in television.  In 1963, he was given the reins of the private eye drama 77 Sunset Strip, which he rebranded in his own style.  The series, which had been one of the more “hip” mystery shows on TV, suffered a ratings hit as a result of the shift and was cancelled.  Fortunately for Webb, there was still a demand for his style - and his signature series.  He was approached by Universal in 1966 to develop a new Dragnet TV movie.  The product was so well received that NBC put a new Dragnet series on the air, with Webb back as Sgt. Joe Friday.  It’s this color run of Dragnet (which aired often on Nick at Nite in the early 1990s) with which Webb is most closely associated.  It also kicked off the next phase of his career, as a producer of TV content through his Mark VII production company.  In addition to Dragnet, Webb produced the squad car-based police drama Adam-12 and the EMT/paramedic series Emergency!, both of which enjoyed long runs in the late 1960s and early 1970s.  (His Adam-12 star Martin Milner got one of his first jobs on the radio version of Dragnet, playing one of Joe Friday’s young partners.) In the early 1980s, Webb was prepping for yet another Dragnet revival, and he tapped Kent McCord of Adam-12 to play Joe Friday’s new partner.  Before the series could go into production, Webb passed away at the age of 62 from a heart attack on December 23, 1982.  In recognition of his long partnership with the Los Angeles Police Department, the LAPD retired 714, Joe Friday’s badge number.  All flags in Los Angeles flew at half-staff in his honor. One doesn’t need to look far to see Jack Webb’s legacy alive and well today.  Reality-based police procedurals cover the prime-time landscape, and the realistic style of acting he helped introduce to the mainstream has influenced generations of writers and actors.  He was a tireless professional who worked right up until the end of an unfortunately short life, but his body of work will continue to outlive him and entertain new generations of fans. Jack Webb has made a number of appearances on Down These Mean Streets, including in this week's new episode, which spotlights the actor in his signature role of Joe Friday. Click here to check out some of his other visits to the podcast as Sgt. Friday, Pat Novak, Jeff Regan, and Pete Kelly.

Mike Waring – the private eye with “a hand for oppressed men and an eye for repressed women,” and Nick Charles – the retired detective and full-time boozehound. Les Damon, born March 31, 1908, gave voice to both of them during the Golden Age of Radio. Before he stepped up to the microphone, he walked the boards on stages in his native Providence, Rhode Island and – in 1934 – as an apprentice at the Old Vic in England. When he returned to the United States in 1938, Damon got into radio. Some of his earliest roles came in soap operas churned out by the factory of Frank and Anne Hummert (the prolific radio writers behind Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons). On July 2, 1941, Damon had the unenviable task of filling William Powell’s shoes as Nick Charles when The Adventures of The Thin Man went on the air. Claudia Morgan played his wife, Nora in the series that followed Dashiell Hammett’s married detectives on new adventures. Damon and Morgan had terrific chemistry as Nick and Nora, a couple you could believe in during those very chaste days of early radio. Damon’s stint on The Thin Man was interrupted when he was drafted in 1943. David Gothard and Les Tremayne stepped in to co-star with Claudia Morgan during the war years. After serving in the Pacific (and earning a Bronze Star), Damon returned to the role and stayed in until December 1947. Three years later in 1950, he had his second shot at radio sleuthing when he took over the title role of The Falcon. Damon starred as gumshoe Mike Waring until 1953, including a run of episodes where the Falcon traded his private eye license for the cloak and dagger world of American intelligence. The Falcon went from facing down gangsters to enemy agents abroad. His radio detective career came full circle in 1954 when he reunited with Claudia Morgan as another pair of married sleuths – insurance investigator Pat Abbott and his wife Jean in Adventures of the Abbotts. Damon was ultimately succeeded by Mandel Kramer in the show’s short run, but he worked elsewhere on radio on many of the programs originating from the East Coast: Dimension X, X Minus One, and the later years of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar and Suspense. In fact, his final radio appearance came in the June 17, 1962 episode of “radio’s outstanding theater of thrills.” He passed away just over a month later at age 54.

Academy Award, one of the more prestigious Hollywood radio programs, premiered on March 30, 1946. The series presented recreations of films that had been nominated for or won - you guessed it - the Academy Award. Humphrey Bogart, Ginger Rogers, Gregory Peck, and Lana Turner were just some of the stars who appeared at the microphone to recreate their screen roles in Jezebel, Stagecoach, Young Mr. Lincoln, and more. Ultimately, that Oscar-prestige helped to spell a premature end for the series, as the cost for licensing the mentions of the Academy Awards (combined with the big salaries for the Hollywood stars) proved prohibitive for a long run. The program came to an end after only 39 episodes, despite being a hit with audiences. We've heard a few big screen adaptations from Academy Award on the podcast: "The Maltese Falcon," featuring Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, and Sydney Greenstreet recreating their roles in Dashiell Hammett's detective drama; and a pair from Alfred Hitchcock - "Shadow of a Doubt" with Joseph Cotten in his screen role as "Uncle Charlie" and "Foreign Correspondent," with Cotten filling in for Joel McCrea as an American reporter who uncovers a deadly conspiracy in Europe.

Actor Richard Denning was born March 27, 1914. A handsome leading man, he’s best known to old time radio fans for a pair of shows: first, he was George Cooper co-starring with Lucille Ball on My Favorite Husband. Then, he was Jerry North, amateur sleuth and half of Mr. and Mrs. North. Denning starred in several films in the late 1930s and early 1940s, but his career was put on hiatus for his military service during World War II. Once he came home, it would be almost two years before he was offered additional film work; it was a period when Denning and his family lived in a mobile home. His career slump ended when he was cast opposite Lucille Ball in My Favorite Husband. The series followed the comedic misadventures of Liz and George Cooper - “two people who live together and like it.” Initially the couple’s surname was Cugat, but confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat led to the name change by the 26th episode.The show was based on a pair of novels about an upper-class banker and his socialite wife. Soon into the run, to make the characters more accessible, the writers changed the Coopers to an average middle-class couple. Denning had fantastic chemistry with Lucille Ball as the titular "favorite husband" - occasionally an accomplice in his wife's crazy schemes but usually showing up for the aftermath. His quips and romantic banter with Lucy make the Coopers one of the best radio couples. The series aired on CBS from 1948 to 1951. In 1950, CBS approached Lucille Ball about a television series, but she refused to do a show without her real-life husband Desi Arnaz playing her on-screen spouse. After much negotiation, CBS agreed. The resulting program was I Love Lucy. Many of the My Favorite Husband writers joined the staff of I Love Lucy, and several radio scripts were reworked as TV episodes. Though Richard Denning didn't make the jump to I Love Lucy, his film career had resumed by the late 1940s with appearances in several B-movie detective and sci-fi pictures. In 1952, Denning took on the role of Jerry North, half of the popular amateur detective duo Mr. and Mrs. North. With Barbara Britton as wife Pam, Denning starred in the television adventures of the couple from 1952 until 1954. The Norths had starred in their own radio series since 1942, but on the radio they were voiced by Alice Frost and Joseph Curtin. The popularity of the TV Norths led Denning and Britton to take over the roles on radio in 1953. Jerry was a New York publisher and Pam was his eagle-eyed wife. Together, the pair had an uncanny knack for landing in the middle of murders, kidnappings, and other crimes. Unfortunately for evildoers, Pam and Jerry were no slouch in the gumshoe game - particularly Pam, who stands out as one of radio’s premiere female detectives. After the TV series ended in 1954, Denning and Britton played the Norths on radio until 1955. In his post-North career, Denning had a major role in the Universal monster classic Creature from the Black Lagoon. He stepped back into the detective game in a single season on NBC as private eye Michael Shayne from 1960 to 1961. By 1968, Richard Denning had mostly retired from show business and was living with his wife in Hawaii. Producer Leonard Freeman offered Denning the role of Governor Paul Jameson in the Jack Lord crime series Hawaii Five-O, a recurring role that kept Denning on TV screens from 1968 until 1980.

Actor Ed Begley was born March 25, 1901. An Oscar winner for Sweet Bird of Youth, Begley was a mainstay on the big and small screens, with credits including 12 Angry Men, The Fugitive, Billion Dollar Brain, The Wild Wild West, and more. Begley’s son, Ed Jr., has continued in the family business. Old time radio fans may know him best as the irascible but lovable Lt. Walt Levinson on Richard Diamond, Private Detective, where he co-starred opposite Dick Powell from 1949 to 1950. The first (and best, in this writer's opinion) of the actors to play Levinson, Begley had wonderful chemistry with Dick Powell. Levinson clearly loved his old partner, but he could also be easily vexed by Diamond's wordplay and attitude. Elsewhere on the dial, he played another police confidant to a private eye - Lt. O’Hara on The Fat Man - and he starred on radio as Charlie Chan. You can hear one of his adventures as the Honolulu-based detective in Episode 145 of the podcast. Begley turned in supporting roles on The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, The Whistler, Tales of the Texas Rangers, and more.

Actor Jack Kruschen was born March 20, 1922. Born in Winnipeg, Canada, Kruschen was a master of dialects and an incredibly versatile actor. Kruschen was a mainstay on radio: his credits include Dragnet, Gunsmoke, Night Beat, Frontier Gentlemen, Crime Classics, Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, Suspense, and more. Kruschen was such a ubiquitous presence on radio it would be hard to find a series where he didn’t lend his voice. On Broadway is My Beat, he played two recurring characters - the gruff Detective Muggavan and the cynical coroner Dr. Sinsky, sometimes in the same episode. On the big screen, he picked up an Academy Award nomination for his memorable performance as Dr. Dreyfuss, Jack Lemmon’s neighbor, in Billy Wilder’s The Apartment. In 1960, Kruschen told the Los Angeles Times “Billy Wilder and Jack Lemmon were the best things that ever happened to me. They worked with me, helped me, brought out the ability to use whatever I have learned of my craft.” He could also be seen in Cape Fear, McLintock!, and The War of the Worlds. On television, he appeared on Batman, Columbo, The Odd Couple, and many more. Younger audiences may remember him from his role of the Greek grandfather on Webster. Kruschen was still working well into the 1990s, with his final role coming in 1997’s Til There Was You.

Academy Award winning actress Mercedes McCambridge was born March 16, 1916. Hailed as the world’s greatest living radio actress by Orson Welles, McCambridge starred in shows ranging from soap operas to prestigious dramas. She had enjoyed early success on radio on soap operas as well as in supporting roles on Suspense and The Shadow.  She worked with Welles on his Mercury Theater broadcasts and later played a small role in his classic film Touch of Evil. McCambridge was an Oscar winner by the time she starred on radio in Defense Attorney, winning in 1949 for her performance in All the King’s Men.  She was at the height of her film career when she was cast by producer Don Sharpe in a new series he was developing about a female defense lawyer.  Defense Attorney began as an audition show called The Defense Rests, a script by a female writer, Cameron Blake, with a lead female character (neither was all that common in the Golden Age of Radio).  The lead character of Martha Ellis Bryant was a former district attorney who had entered private practice on the other side of the aisle.  Marty’s boyfriend and occasional legman was newspaper reporter Jud Barnes (played by Howard Culver, who we heard as Ellery Queen n Episode 21), but Marty often tracked down witnesses and did most of the heavy lifting on her cases herself, often at great risk to her life The series was initially sold to NBC as a summer replacement series, but NBC wanted the show to be produced in New York rather than on the West Coast as a cost-saving measure.  Neither McCambridge nor Culver wanted to make the cross-country trek for a summer gig.  The producers reworked the show as Defense Attorney and pitched it to ABC, who agreed to produce the show in Hollywood.  Defense Attorney premiered on July 6, 1951.  The reliable troupe of West Coast radio players filled out supporting roles, including Larry Dobkin, Harry Bartell, Jeanne Bates, and Bill Johnstone.  Tony Barrett played multiple characters but was most often heard as Lt. Ed Leebis of the police, who frequently encountered Marty and Jud during their investigations. The series was a hit with the public and especially with lawyers.  Mercedes McCambridge was invited to address the annual meeting of the American Bar Association in 1952, and she was honored by the National Association of Women Lawyers.  In the episode featured on the podcast this week, she receives the title of “Favorite Dramatic Actress” from the readers of Radio-TV Mirror magazine. The series came to an end in December 1952.  There were attempts to launch a television version, but the pilot episode did not sell.  After the series ended, Mercedes McCambridge focused on her film career, eventually picking up another Oscar nomination in 1956 for Giant   Throughout her life, she struggled with alcohol and drugs, and she had periods where she did not work at all.  She almost missed out on credit for one of her most famous performances voicing the demon in The Exorcist.  It took the intervention of the Screen Actors Guild for her to receive the credit.  She was an advocate for those fighting addiction in her final years, and she passed away in 2004.

Georgia Ellis was born one hundred years ago today - March 12, 1917. Though she never found big success on the big or small screens, she's a legend of the Golden Age of Radio. Ellis was heard on dozens of shows from The Adventures of Philip Marlowe to Escape to Night Beat and The Whistler, always displaying her versatility in a variety of roles. But even without all of those performances to her credit, Georgia Ellis would be a radio legend thanks to her years as Kitty Russell on Gunsmoke. From 1952 until 1962, she was a member of the core cast of radio's greatest western and one of its best dramas, and Georgia Ellis' performance as the saloon owner who carried a torch for Marshal Matt Dillon was a major part of the show's success. Before she was introduced as Kitty, Georgia Ellis appeared in the first episode of Gunsmoke as an old girlfriend of Marshal Dillon - a woman who was also the widow of a recently murdered man. She didn't make her first appearance as Kitty until the May 10, 1952 episode. With the August 16 episode, she started receiving equal billing with the three other series leads - William Conrad, Parley Baer, and Howard McNear. She was tied to Gunsmoke before the show ever aired - Georgia Ellis co-starred with William Conrad in "Pagosa," an August 6, 1951 episode of Romance scripted by future Gunsmoke writer John Meston. The story of a new sheriff's arrival in a western town was a sort of test run by Meston for an "adult western" and both Conrad and Ellis played characters similar to those they would later portray in Dodge City.   The relationship between Kitty and William Conrad's Matt Dillon was a key component of the show. Though her true profession was never explicitly stated on the show, in a 1953 interview, producer/director Norman Madconnell said "Kitty is just someone Matt has to visit every once in a while. We never say it, but Kitty is a prostitute, plain and simple." But their relationship was more than what it appeared to be. As Ellis herself said "There was no forgiveness to be given because I don't think Kitty was available to anybody but Matt." Like her radio co-stars, Georgia Ellis was given a token audition to reprise her role in the Gunsmoke TV series, but Amanda Blake was cast as Kitty. Georgia Ellis continued on Gunsmoke until the radio series aired its final episode on June 18, 1961.

Born March 6, 1916, Virginia Gregg could play a glamorous Park Avenue socialite, a demure Chinese woman in the old west, and everything in between. One of the most versatile and talented actresses working in radio (and later television), Virginia Gregg was a presence on so many of the wonderful programs of the radio era - a member of that incredible group of west coast radio players who delivered performances that brought characters to vivid life on the air. She was born in Harrisburg, Illinois, but her family moved to Pasadena, California when she was five. Gregg was bound for a showbusiness career, albeit a musical one - she played the double bass with the Pasadena Symphony and Pops, and before she went into acting she was part of "The Singing Strings," a group whose performances were featured on the CBS and Mutual Networks. But it was acting where she made her mark. It may be easier to comprise a list of the programs she didn't visit, as it seems Virginia Gregg covered most of the dial during the Golden Age of Radio. She did comedies (The Jack Benny Program), soap operas (One Man's Family), dramas (Dr. Kildare, Lux Radio Theatre), westerns (Gunsmoke, Frontier Gentleman), and detective shows. Radio detective show fans will recognize Virginia Gregg as two of radio's best Girl Fridays. She played Claire "Brooksie" Brooks opposite Bob Bailey in Let George Do It, and Dick Powell crooned to her as Helen Asher in Richard Diamond, Private Detective. In the case of Richard Diamond, her versatility allowed her to double as other characters in the cast. Gregg married frequent Diamond director Jaime del Valle, and the two had three children before they divorced.   She appeared regularly on the 1950s and 1960s TV incarnations of Dragnet as well as the 1954 movie version. No surprise there, as Jack Webb was a huge fan, describing Gregg as "the actress' actress," and she was frequently heard on the Dragnet radio program. She made multiple appearances on Perry Mason opposite her occasional radio co-star Raymond Burr, and she was a regular presence in dozens of classic TV dramas through the 1970s - Mannix, Have Gun - Will Travel, Ironside, The Streets of San Francisco, Rawhide, Cannon (reuniting her with another old time radio vet - William Conrad), and many, many more. Virginia Gregg worked in films as well, even though she did most of her work on the small screen. Her most famous (albeit off-screen) movie role may have been as the voice of Mrs. Bates in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. It was a role she shared with Paul Jasmin and Jeanette Nolan, another veteran radio player. Gregg was the sole performer for the voice in the sequels Psycho II and Psycho III; the latter would be her final credit before she passed away in 1986. In a 1959 interview, Virginia Gregg said "I work steadily, but I have no identity." Old time radio fans would say she sold herself short. While she was rarely spotlighted in lead on-screen roles, the versatility she honed as a radio actor earned her a career that spanned five decades.