Sam Spade - The Vendetta Caper

The National Broadcasting Company presents the Adventures of Sam Spade, Detective.

Sam Spade, Detective Agency?

Me, sweetheart.

Sam, I heard you were hobnobbing with a wealthy set of our cities.

If what I was doing is their idea of hobnobbing F, I'm glad I'm in the lore income bracket.

What do you mean? What happened?

I will only reveal that F.E. in the intimate secrecy of our office.

Was it that bad?

Worsef emotions, ran amuck.

Passions were strewn from fishermen's walk to the peninsula.

Hatreds festooned the very air.

And there was jealousy, too.

It was positively lurid, as they say.

Would you think it's all right for me to hear it?

Well, I'll expregate it a little, F. I'll water it down to your strength.

I'll use monosolabic instead of polyosolabic words and so on.

Now, Sam, I want you to tell me everything you think I should hear.

And then, just a little more.

It's a deal, F. Prepare yourself for listening, and I will shortly make my inference

with a saga of society-sculled-duggery, the lowdown on the uptown and all that.

Now, if we need a name for it, why not call it the vendetta caper?

Or the revenge of money, Kristoff?

Transcribe for NBC, William Spear, radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and crime,

drama.

Brings you the greatest private detective of them all.

In the adventures of Sam Spade.

You don't have to call, Sam.

I'm right here.

Let me take your coat.

Well, if he isn't the sufficient of you.

Now, be quiet and give me your coat.

All right.

All right.

Thank you.

Now, I've oiled your chair, so it won't squeak.

Sit down.

Well, you make me feel like an emotional invalid.

But it's wonderful.

And two years.

Oh, little miracles.

Never cease.

A double.

What?

Eight-year-old stuff.

I had a Friskins drug store send it up.

Applejack, it's called.

Applejack.

Well, what brought it on?

If, why this particular polishing of the applejack?

Well, I don't know.

I'm on out with it.

No, I just thought, well, you've been working with rich people, and maybe you were handsomely

compensated.

And my back salary?

You're not mad, Sam.

Well, as it happens, I did make a few dollars, and yours will be the first account settled.

Oh, Sam!

So, it wasn't me.

It was the money all the time.

No, Sam.

No, I just...

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

I accept your apology.

Two, Lieutenant J. F. Randall, San Francisco Police Department, from Samuel Spade License,

number 137596.

Subject.

The revenge of Marty Christoff.

Money Christoff.

Is this a historical drama?

Christoff.

C-R-I-S-T-O-F-F.

Oh, no.

Monty.

M-O-N-T-Y.

And it's still a historical drama.

They're Lieutenant.

Revenge is an old-fashioned motive.

But when you get it raw and distilled as in the Ghazdan affair, it's new all over again.

This was the slow-burning, deliberate kind of passion that starts smoldering way back in the forgotten days

and explodes among some people who never knew they were living over a keg of dynamite.

It was yesterday morning that the distant sputtering of the few was began to be heard by a man named Chandler Ghazdan.

You know, I'm the hulking rich boy, the electrical appliance ion, who took a professional boxing broil.

I think he was billed as gold plate Ghazdan, a society scrapper.

And he was doing well, too, until a right cross by someone who needed the money more than he did,

sent him back to clipping coupons.

Spade?

Yeah?

I'm Chandler Ghazdan.

Oh, I recognize you.

What a guy's like you charge.

Well, it depends on the job.

Investigation.

$16 a day.

And any unusual expenses.

Cheap?

Well, do you guys have some kind of a code?

A code?

You know, like doctors.

Do you keep things in confidence?

Well, most of us do, including me.

Yeah, I don't suppose to make any big difference if it got out.

I'm not afraid of him.

I just assumed punch him in the mouth.

Let's look at him.

Who?

Marty Kristoff.

Have you heard of him?

No, no.

Moved into the peninsula, my neighborhood.

Got the major downhill place.

Oh, yeah.

I know the estate.

Must have cost plenty to buy.

$250,000 a year.

What's money these days?

Everybody's got it.

Days in and off him.

It's a tax scheme, I suppose.

Ever since he moved into that arc of a house, he's been throwing parties.

They're across between the last days of Pompeii and a Polish wedding.

Invites hundreds of guests, everybody who is anybody.

Disgusting.

But it seems legal so far.

He's been there four months throwing parties, inviting everybody in the phone book.

Everybody but me.

Oh, maybe he just doesn't like you.

What are you talking about?

I'm one of the best-like guys in the peninsula.

Everybody likes me, little kids, cops, the guys at the country club.

I never had an enemy in the world.

Besides, I got Virginia.

Oh, who's she?

My wife.

Oh, one of the sweetest little girls that ever came down the pipe.

Well, my apology.

She was a bald one.

Oh.

Year I married her.

She was the social catch of the year.

Among the women.

Really?

Yeah.

So was I, among the men.

Well, look, I got to tell you some more.

A month ago, one of my company warehouses burned down.

Somebody slipped up in the fire insurance hadn't been renewed.

I lost $350,000.

Yes, who had lunch with my insurance man a week before the fire?

Money, crystal.

You got it.

Next thing is the room I get surrounded by guards in electrical companies on the verge of bankruptcy.

No, of course it isn't.

Absolutely not.

Hmm?

A gossip columnist reports that I'm going to close up shop and beat it to South America with what dough is left.

Then when the stock prices start dropping, somebody suddenly buys them up so fast they disappear overnight.

Some corporation I never heard of, go, the dandy is corporation.

I see.

And then all my friends start getting unfriendly.

As soon as I shop, everybody stops talking.

Act as if there's some big secret about me that I don't know.

And they've all been the money crystal parties lately.

That's right.

A week after he arrived in town, all these things started happening.

No, what I want to find out is why.

I don't even know the guy, but he's making a big change in my life.

Well, it sounds like you're entitled to know.

I don't know how far I can get.

The best I can do is find out who he is, where he comes from, who his friends are, all those things.

OK, you're hired.

I'll find out everything about this money crystal.

I've got to know what's going on.

I'm sorry, Chandler.

I wasn't able to get here when you said traffic was absolutely unbelievable.

Cars, cars everywhere.

They must be giving cars away these days.

Everybody has one.

I think we should get a helicopter.

Mr. Spade, my wife, Ginny.

Well, how do you do, Mrs. Gosden?

Chand, I hope you haven't lost your head and blabbed everything to him.

I told you these sort of men weren't trustworthy.

I beg your pardon, man.

Oh, Ginny, I told him and he's a good guy.

Well, if you just want to go around giving your life sick.

Oh, shut up.

Will you? I'm the man of the house.

Really?

And I suppose I count for nothing?

Oh, no, I'll forget it.

Spade, I'm depending on you. Don't let me down.

You wouldn't think a millionaire would be hard to buy a graph.

But I came up with very little information on Mr. Money Christoff.

He'd arrived in town four months ago,

stayed ten days at the St. Mark hotel, then bought his house.

He had a bank deposit running at a seven figures.

He had no known business connections, just money.

The register at the St. Mark's said he came from Chicago

and an airline company verified that he'd been a passenger

aboard one of their ships from the windy city.

This was as far as I'd dealt when my place of business

was handed by a man in powder blue livery.

You spade?

The same.

Mr. Monty Christoff sent me to pick you up.

I see. Up for where?

For his matching on a peninsula.

Oh.

He said he knew what a rough time you must be having at your present job

and that he'd be glad to make the whole thing simple to you.

You really said that? That's what he said.

But I don't know what it means exactly.

Well, I don't know what it means exactly either,

but there's one good way to find out.

Home, James?

And my name is Betociosa.

I see. How long have they been calling you there?

Well, let me see. It's about...

What do you mean? I mean, it's my name.

I know. I will talk it over in the car.

The car was long and blue and smooth.

I'm as democratic as the next guy

and I have just as soon have ridden up front with Betociosa,

but no, he wouldn't hear of it.

I had a ride in a backseat with a window of bulletproof glass

separating us.

And as we rode down to the peninsula,

we glided down Elm Shaded Streets

and finally through the gate of Monte Kristoff's estate.

The driveway was lined with spring-green poplars.

The mansion door was opened by a rear admiral

and I was not sure dead.

I wouldn't want to say that the living room was large,

but I caught one and it was a full minute

before the echo came back.

A door opened somewhere and a tan, hard-bodied man

walked in across the marble floor with an outstretched hand.

It was tougher than whaleball.

I appreciate you coming, Mr. Spare.

Mr. Kristoff, do you have a drink?

Champagne, scotch, Irish, what?

Oh, anything. Whatever you like.

Good. I figured you've a ride. It's all that he ordered.

A ride is?

It's a gun.

No, thanks.

The custom-rolled event is made expressly to my own taste.

No, thanks anyway, but I have some beat-up cigarettes here.

Don't try mine. The King of England,

I'd give him a favour when he ships them all up.

How is George?

Are you drinking, Mr. Spare?

Oh, thank you for too, Champ.

Now, you've been investigating me.

Yes, and you haven't found out anything.

How'd you know, Mr. Kristoff?

There was nothing to find out.

On your head.

I'll do you a service and save you time and money.

Well, that's a handsome offer, I accept.

I was born in Michigan to a prosperous lumber family.

I went to Phillips' Andover in Harvard.

Oh.

Mark's Fair served with the Army in the recent war,

major military police wounded twice.

Fans died while I was in Italy.

I inherited an enormous lumber holdings which I sold.

And it's my bank account.

I like San Francisco.

The game ain't settled out.

No, you're very kind, but I don't need all this.

I have more money than a man can spend in a lifetime.

And by that, I don't mean to boast.

It was an accident of breath.

Yes.

As now, Mr. Kristoff, I'm only trying to find out.

I know what you're trying to find out.

Chandler Gazden put you on my trail.

Well, there's no need to deny it.

And what would you take to get off my trail, Mr. Spade?

Well, no car, a selection of fine liquor, about a job, cash.

All rather enticing.

But I'm afraid you've misjudged me, sir.

I only work for one client at a time.

Is there anything wrong with switching your allegiance?

Well, I'm afraid it wouldn't be cricket.

Is that the way they say it at Andover?

Very well.

Then I'm afraid I've given you all the information I can about myself.

Well, you've been very generous, but just one other thing.

How long did you live in Chicago?

Chicago?

Yes.

I never lived there.

But you flew here from Chicago.

Oh, that.

I was just there on business.

Well, if you say so.

But Jucio is outside of the car.

You'll drive you back to your office.

And with that, he turned and left me.

Outside, Bertucho was waiting.

Impassively, he ushered me into the limousine and started out.

Only we didn't head for my office.

Instead, we seemed to be leading town.

I banged on the glass between us, but Bertucho didn't choose the answer.

And we stopped at a light.

I tried the doors, but they were both mysteriously locked.

I was a prisoner in a moving jail.

I made desperate signs to passers-by and traffic policeman I knew.

But they just smiled and waved back at me.

It was all very jolly.

So I sat back and waited.

About 20 or 30 miles out of town.

We pulled on to a lonesome road and stopped.

Here we are.

Well, just where are we?

And why?

Well, don't blow your top.

Tristop told me to take you out here and give you this.

Oh?

What's in the envelope?

Money.

Two grand, big sack.

Well, that's a lot of grants.

They're going to do a lot for you.

You're going to take it and keep going north.

48 hours will be long enough just so you keep out of Frisco.

Well, just so you know how I stand, I'm going back.

You know, I was hoping you'd say that.

Now I can do things in my own.

He pulled out a long black sap and started wielding.

The first cut just greased my head and smashed it into my shoulder.

And blacked his second blow and moved in for some postwork.

The third time he swung at me as I'm caught on overhead three branch.

And that was his undoing.

He took four or five and then went down and out.

I searched him and his billful reveal that he was Joseph Kowalski,

late of Chicago, Illinois.

The cards and addresses it contained left little doubt that Kowalski was in the records.

I threw him in the car and drove back to town and police had quarters.

He was awake by then and I had to drag him into the hall.

You want him locked up?

A salt and battery.

A salt with a deadly weapon.

A salt with intent to murder me.

I'm anything.

He can't lock me up.

I didn't do any of those things.

Anyway, if I did do him, it was in San Martín County, not Friscoire.

I don't know what I can do.

He's got to do something in our jurisdiction.

Sure, see?

Already picked my pocket on the way into town.

Here at Kowalski.

So you look, he's got my wallet in his hand right now.

I have all the brazen law breakers.

He's going to let him get away with this, walking right in the headquarters with the evidence in his hand.

Come on, come on, Kowalski.

We go pretty hard on pick pockets in this town.

I'll be in time.

I want a lawyer.

Get me a telephone.

He was dragged away for testing.

He got no sympathy from me.

He started.

Lieutenant Randall then teletype Chicago to find out more about him.

And about an hour, the report came back.

I won't read his whole record, Sam, but he's paid for everything they say.

He's clean.

However, it does say he was the bodyguard for a man named Bonnie Muffet.

Says Muffet was a shady business operator.

He picked up several times.

Nothing hung on him.

He left town at the same time Kowalski did.

He's listed as a desirable, but he's not wanted.

Thanks, Lieutenant.

If a man named Bonnie Muffet had a hood named Joseph Kowalski as a bodyguard

and they both disappeared from Chicago at the same time,

the obvious conclusion was conclusively obvious.

That rode the limousine back to Kristoff's estate.

But as I parked the car, my headlights hit another car.

There was someone getting into it.

Mrs. Chandler-Gazin.

Oh, you know, what do you think you're doing?

Remember me, Sam Spade?

Oh, Detective.

Yes.

What are you following me for?

What were you doing in Kristoff's house?

I thought he was a...

wasn't a friend of yours.

Or your husband.

Mr. Spade, get in, please.

Let's talk.

Okay, spill it.

It's none of your business what I was doing in there.

Whatever it was, I want you to forget you ever saw me.

That'll be pretty hard to do.

Would money help you?

In this case, no.

What do you care what happens to my life or chants or Kristoff?

Because your husband's paying me to worry.

All right.

If I were you, I'd just forget that you ever met any of us.

Because this mess we're in is so bad that nothing you or anybody else can do

is going to get us out of trouble.

With that, she burst out crying.

I couldn't get anything else out of her.

So I let her go and she drove off.

I walked up to Kristoff's house, knocked on the door and a servant, wasn't it?

A couple of steps inside when six pairs of arms spread.

Some of them had a fist, some.

The struggle was just getting lively when Kristoff appeared.

Yeah, I don't appreciate this kind of treatment, Kristoff.

You want it, Spade?

All right, man, take a walk.

Now, what's it all about?

With my orders, if you ever showed up here again.

Why'd you soften?

I just heard about Kowalski.

You managed that very well.

I admire ourselves from this.

How'd you like to work for me?

No, thanks, Muffet.

Muffet?

Barney Muffet, late of Chicago and the records.

So you know, huh?

Well, I wasn't sure until just now, but you cleared up the doubt.

How much do you know?

Very little.

Just that you were a shady operator, but nobody's looking for you anything.

Spade, I did a lot of things.

Several years at tightrope, walking with a log.

But I never did anything like a jail before.

I have an idea you're considering doing something in the near future.

What makes you say that?

Well, it's a vendetta, isn't it?

Monte Kristoff and Bertus show the steward in the dentist's corporation.

You couldn't resist the drama, could you?

All from Duma's novel.

But why?

Why do you want to play the kind of Monte Kristoff?

What did God's them do to you to merit all this revenge?

Tomorrow.

It'll be over tomorrow.

And with that, he clutched at his heart and fell forward at my feet.

You are listening to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective, Sam Spade.

Three chimes mean good times on NBC.

If you've been searching for mystery on Saturday night,

put away your magnifying glass and follow these clues.

Dile this NBC station tomorrow evening and listen for the chimes.

And then you'll be off on a perilous trip with the man called X, starring Herbert Marshall.

And if you've been searching for music too on Saturday,

then Eileen Wilson is your dish, as she stars in your hip parade,

with Snooki Lansson and Raymond Scott's orchestra.

And now back to the vendetta caper, or the revenge of Monte Kristoff,

tonight's adventure with Sam Spade.

I've been over and listened to his heart.

It was okay.

Monte Kristoff had just keeled over apparently from a crescendo of emotion.

He blacked out.

I didn't want to be held up by his henchmen,

so I left the room and walked down to the house without calling anybody.

I walked down the road, and good luck there was an empty cab cruising along.

At Chandler Gardens, I found him pacing the living room in a state of physical and mental disorder.

I told him what I knew.

Vendetta, why? I never heard of him. I never did anything to the man.

Why would your wife go and see him?

I don't know.

Why don't you ask her?

Because she hasn't been home all day, and here it is one o'clock in the morning,

she's still listening.

Tell me, is there something special happening tomorrow?

Kristoff seemed to think that everything would be settled tomorrow.

It's an annual corporation election just a matter of form.

I'm elected president, if you other people voted into office, always the same people.

Then he must plan to swing the election his way, maybe put you in office.

Get a fat chance of that.

I don't care how much stock he buys.

Ginny owns 10%, I own 41%, that's 51%.

If he bought 49% of the open market, that still wouldn't be enough.

We can still outvote him.

You're sure you've got the stock in your position.

I saw it last week when I was down on the wall looking for my birth certificate.

Stupid me, forgot I don't have a birth certificate.

No, that must be Edson, my lawyer.

Cole and Citi had something on his mind.

Chand, Chand, I have that news for you.

It can't wait. No, no, it can't.

This is Sam Spade, Ralph Edson.

How do you do, Spade?

Now, Chand, listen to me.

All right, what's biting you?

Just this.

We're liable to lose that election tomorrow.

What?

What are you talking about? We can't.

I just found out that Monty Kristoff has 59% of the voting stock and goes in elect...

Fifteen? He can't have it.

Oh, sorry.

Look, wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

If my wife sold her stock, he could have 59, couldn't he?

He could.

Spade.

Hmm?

Are you positive you saw her coming out of Kristoff's house?

I'm afraid I did.

I'm gonna find her.

I'm gonna find her.

And if she sold any of her stock to Kristoff, I'll kill her.

I tried to dissuade him, but he brushed me in the lawyer aside, ran out of the house.

I called the police and told him to try and find Virginia Gazden before a husband did.

Then I went looking myself.

The first place I tried was Monty Kristoff's mansion.

There were lights on, so I entered, gun in hand.

I didn't have any time to liquor with servants and bodyguards.

Kristoff appeared no matter of seconds.

All right, Spade, what is it you want now?

Virginia Gazden.

She hasn't been here since the last time you saw her.

You know where she is?

I have not any idea.

Well, if you know, tell me your husband's looking for her with homicide in his eyes.

I can't say I'm sorry.

Well, that's a nice sentiment.

She sold you where stock in the Gazden company, didn't she?

Since you seem to know about it, yes.

Why?

She in love with you?

I think maybe she is.

And you're in love with her?

She's a stupid empty-headed nothing.

I can't stand the sight of her.

I hate her.

I hold it now.

You'll knock yourself out again.

Yes.

Yes.

Come over here.

Take a good look at that.

It's a pillow.

An ordinary pillow.

So?

You'll notice how dirty it is.

Yeah.

Notice that it isn't even stuffed with feathers.

They were too good.

It's stuffed with dirty cotton rags.

Well?

My father's head was lying on that pillow when he died.

I've kept it ever since as a reminder of who killed him.

Who did?

A man named Elwood Gazden.

A man who cheated and lied and stole everything he had in his life.

Chan was father.

Yes.

My father and Elwood Gazden had a hardware store once.

My father invented an electric hand.

Have I heard of the Gazden hand?

Yeah.

It should have been the Muffet Iron.

Elwood Gazden stole the plans for my father.

Registered them first and then drove my father out of business.

He made a fortune out of it.

And then went into other electrical appliances.

Well, things are beginning to gel now.

My father became a peddler and died poor and broken ill.

My mother died 20 years before she should have them overwork.

Well, the Gazden's grew fat and respected on the Muffet brains.

So you started Joe Fandetta, huh?

I started it the day my father died.

I set out to make one thing in this world.

Money.

And I made it in handfuls.

You can look me up.

Barney Muffet, Chicago.

Gambling, black markets, gun running, slave trading.

Anything and everything that had a big profit in it.

And then I set out for San Francisco to break that crittin' son of Elwood's in his old family.

And all the way you lost a guy named Barney Muffet.

What difference?

All right.

Look, you've got money now and everything you need.

Why go on with it?

I don't care anything about money.

I only want to use it against them.

Do you know why I had all those parties?

To buy stock from people.

Yes.

Stock in a Gazden company.

I've paid twice three times what the shares were worth.

But right now I own 59% of the Gazden enterprises.

And tomorrow morning when the two of us meet at the stockholders meeting,

I'm going to vote him out of office and take over the company.

And then I'm going to drive that right into bankruptcy.

And you got Mrs. Gazden stocked by making her fall in love with you.

I had to.

Now let's talk about it anymore.

About Chandler Gazden.

He's a man with a very short and violent temper.

He might come gunning for you.

That's just what I hope he does.

Ask the man at the door to show you out.

I spent most of the night trying to find Virginia Gazden with no luck.

Chandler didn't return to his house,

so I didn't know what he was up to.

He was early the following day when I got my first report.

Lieutenant Randall called me down to police headquarters.

We found her, Spade.

Better alive.

Oh, about halfway in between.

She was shot in the chest at close range.

Gun right up against her.

But she's still living.

And what are her chances?

Fam, where'd you find her?

In a walk-up apartment on Polk Street.

It was registered to her.

It looked like a loveness to place where she met a boyfriend or something.

No weapon.

I see.

I feel your murder attempt, her husband.

We have a pickup on him right now, but so far he's vanished.

Shame, final San Francisco family.

What do you know, San?

Well, give me a free hand for a couple of hours, will you?

Maybe I can do something for this final San Francisco family.

I had no more idea than the police where Chandler Gazden was at the moment,

but I had a good idea where he might be later in the morning.

I put a call into Ralph Edson, his lawyer.

Stockholder's meeting of the Gazden company was to be held at 11 o'clock at their executive offices.

Edson got me in, and at five minutes to 11, Monty Kristoff walked in.

There were three of us.

None of us spoke.

We just sat around a long polished table,

alternately watching the clock and the door.

At 11 o'clock, the door opened.

Chandler Gazden stood there, rumpled, red-eyed, vicious.

He had a gun.

The first man who moves is going to get up bullet right in the face.

Chandler, for heaven's sake.

That's the gun you try to kill your wife with.

It's the gun, but I didn't try to kill her.

She did it herself because he drove her toward me.

Yeah, you, Kristoff.

You were meeting her in an apartment.

Don't think I'd been dumb.

What they're going to win?

Let's get down to business.

Are you kidding?

I got the same gun she used on herself, and I'm going to use it on you.

Well, stop searching.

Get it over with.

You act as if you want me to do it.

All right.

Edson, spade.

Clear out of here.

Gazden, use your head.

I said get out of here and I'll go on.

Okay, but don't take your eye off him.

He's got a gun in his pocket.

Oh, worry, I won't.

You are working for him.

Working for him all along everybody was.

No, now listen to me.

He wanted you to kill him.

He doesn't care about himself.

He just wanted you to be put away for murder.

Spade, this is not a fair, not yours.

I'll look bold if you're shut up and listen.

This is a tough thing to try to settle something.

It's been boiling up a new mob, but ever since you can remember.

You spent all of your grown up life trying to get back at the wrong man.

It appealed to some ironically sense of yours

to carry out the Monte Cristo revenge story.

Now, let me ask you this.

You remember all about Monte Cristo

and how he ruined the people who had ruined his life

and how his father died heartbroken.

But, do you remember the end of that book?

Go on.

You found that he couldn't bring himself

to revenge the wrong doings of families

on their innocent children.

That raid's good in a book, but I don't feel it way.

Well, maybe you will when you hear this.

What?

This man right here that you spent 20 years

getting ready to ruin is not even a gazden.

What?

He's an adopted son.

L with gazden adopted him from an Oakland orphanage

on October 11th, 1907.

I got the records to prove it this morning.

I don't believe it.

I wouldn't know.

Mr. Edson, you always been the family lawyer.

Isn't this true?

It was a long chance that Edson would play along with it,

but to bring it off it needed the final clincher.

Lawyer Edson looked at me, then looked at Chandler gazden.

He gulped her and licked his lips.

It's true, it's true, Chandler.

Adopt?

Your father never wanted you to know.

Chandler didn't move.

He just stood there stunned.

A Barney Muffet sank down into a chair

and buried his head in his hands.

Edson and I looked at each other and waited.

Finally, Kristoff looked up and spoke.

Start the meeting.

Mr. Edson.

I hereby declare the annual stockholders

meeting of the gazden company open.

Mr. Gazden.

I don't care what happens now.

I bow to the majority stockholder.

Oh.

Mr. Kristoff.

I beg your pardon.

Mr. Muffet.

Has the majority stockholder?

I vote that the championship of the Gazden electrical corporation

remains as it has for the past 20 years with Chandler Gazden.

Mr. Gazden.

Period, end of report.

Oh, Sam, you were magnificent.

It was, rather, staring scene, wasn't it?

I was good.

But it was superb, it really was.

Uh-huh.

Did you sign over the stock and everything?

Oh, he did indeed.

Oh.

Sam.

Do you think the world will ever get to a time

when everybody has all he wants?

And instead of trying to get more,

everybody spends his time just...

trying to enjoy life.

Well, you know best, Effie.

Do you really believe that, Sam?

Well, you've got to believe something.

It's better than nothing.

I guess.

I have a theory, too, Sam.

Well, spelled it out.

Well, if everybody in the world picks somebody else to be nice to,

there'll never be any more trouble anywhere.

Hmm?

How do you figure that out?

Well, before you can be nice to somebody,

you have to think nice thoughts, see?

And when you start thinking nice thoughts,

well, you can see how silly the bad ones are.

Effie, come here.

You know, I might just put you up as a candidate

for a chair of philosophy at Columbia.

Oh, Sam.

I know who you picked out to be nice to.

Me?

True.

And I picked you.

Good night, Sam.

Good night, sweetheart.

Tonight's transcribed adventure of Sam Spade

was produced, edited and directed by William Spear.

Sam Spade was played by Stephen Dunn,

luring Tuttle as Effie.

Script for tonight's adventure by John Michael Hayes,

musical scoring by Ludblaskin,

conducted by Robert Armbruster.

Join us again next week, same time,

for another adventure with Sam Spade.

Tomorrow, Dennis Day and Judy Canova

entertain you on NBC.