The story you are about to hear is true.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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You're a detective sergeant.
You're assigned to burglary detail.
One of your informants contacts you by telephone.
He says he wants to see you immediately.
He claims knowledge of more than two dozen burglaries committed in your city.
He offers the information despite threats against his own life.
Your job, investigate.
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Dragnet, the documented drama of an actual crime.
For the next 30 minutes in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will
travel step by step on the side of the law through an actual case transcribed from official
police files.
From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, Dragnet is the story of your police force
in action.
Was Monday, April 16th.
Was foggy in Los Angeles.
We were working the day watch out a burglary detail.
My partner's Ben Romero, the boss is Captain Wisdom.
My name's Friday.
We were on the way out from the office and it was 1.38 p.m. when we got to the corner
of North Main and Satello Street, Johnny Cokin's Cafe.
Pretty well filled up.
You want to sit at the counter?
No, there's a booth over there in the corner.
People are just leaving.
Oh yeah, didn't see it.
This is all right, isn't it?
Yeah, fine.
Oh, it smells good.
I wonder what the special is today.
No, it's up there on the blackboard.
Oh yeah, enchilada with cheese, coleslaw, salad.
That's not pretty good, doesn't it?
I wish I hadn't had lunch.
I should have waited.
I keep forgetting Monday's enchilada day down here.
I sure like the way Johnny fixes.
Oh, Friday, Ben, how are you?
Yeah, I got these dirty dishes out of the way.
Okay, fine.
Is it going to be the special?
No, we forgot today was Monday.
We had lunch already.
Too bad.
What'll it be?
Just coffee?
Yeah, it's fine.
Friday?
Yeah, same for me, Roberta.
Both of them black, I guess.
Okay, two blacks.
So you haven't seen Smalley around this afternoon, have you, Roberta?
Red Smalley?
Red?
No, I haven't seen him for a couple of days.
Okay.
I thought he said to meet him here at 1.30.
Well, he'll be alone.
He's never been on time as long as I've known him.
Yeah, I wonder what's eating him.
He sounded a little excited on the phone.
Did he give you any idea what it was all about?
No, just said it was important, had to see it.
Hey, I was just thinking, maybe I could handle one of those enchiladas after all.
Yeah, there's Red.
All right, fellas.
Hope I ain't late.
All right.
Been a long time, huh?
Yeah, sit down, Red.
Good to see you.
Yeah, thanks.
What's new with you, anyway?
Oh, not too much.
How's it with you?
Here you are.
Two coffees black, huh, you, Ben?
Hungry.
What about a hamburger steak, huh?
Some coffee, too.
Hamburger steak and coffee, right?
You're looking pretty fair-shaped, Red.
You working steady now?
Well, you know how it goes, on again, off again.
Put in a full month playing bar boy at Ziggy's joint place down in South Main, you know?
Mm-hmm, what happened there?
Business fell off and Ziggy said he had to let me go.
Been kind of thin ever since.
I'm hustling programs out of the racetrack right now.
It's not too bad.
Can't afford to bet, but I get to see the races free.
You can't have everything, I guess.
I understand you're a little worried about something, Red.
Anything serious?
Well, yeah, might be.
My guy's telling Romero on the phone.
Wouldn't do me no good if it got out.
I mean, me talking to you about it, you know?
He'd probably tie a can in my tail if he knew I told you.
Who's that?
Guy by the name of Jeff Allen.
You know him?
No, doesn't sound familiar to me.
Ben?
Me neither. Who is he, Red?
Second story worker.
Lots of savvy, too.
He's fell a couple of times on burglary raps.
Knows his business, though.
Got a lot of moxie.
How long has he been in town, you know?
Well, about six months, I think.
Come from the east, finished a stretch back in Michigan.
He's a real pro.
What's he doing out here, Red?
Well, matter of fact, that's what I want to talk to you about.
Figured maybe you ought to know.
Yeah?
He's doing real good the way I get it.
I heard him and a couple other guys talking about it one night down in Ziggy's.
They were having a couple beers.
I guess they didn't think I could hear them.
What'd they have to say?
This guy Allen was running off about how good he was doing.
How many places he knocked over in the last couple of months.
How much stuff he took.
And what's he look like, Red?
Oh, pretty average.
About my height.
Dark hair.
Little scar right here in his chin.
About 160, 70 maybe.
36 years old.
Usually wears leather jacket, black one.
All right, Red, here you go.
Bring your steak, Crockett.
Yeah, fine.
Sure got a good appetite these days working out in the air, you know.
It does you good.
Yeah, huh?
Yeah.
I'll show you how passionate I am about what pets you're talking about.
Oh, yeah.
Here you go.
Good.
These burglary jobs Allen's supposed to be pulling, Red.
Where's he working them, do you know that?
Well, no, I guess I don't.
All over town, I suppose.
Sure good hamburger.
When you overheard him talking to his friends, did he mention any jobs in particular that he pulled?
No, but he's working hard.
I know that for a fact.
He pulls a new one every week or so, the way I get it.
And what about his M.O., Red?
Well, it's a regular second-star routine.
Usually Jimmy or a small Finch bar usually goes through a window.
Does he work alone?
Uh-huh, strictly.
His French bread's nice and fresh.
Yeah.
Where's Allen staying in town, do you know, Red?
No, I don't.
I know where I can find him, though.
The 1322 Club out on North Barrett.
He hangs out there quite a bit almost every night.
I think the guy who owns the joint's a friend of his.
Jeff Allen.
Is that supposed to be his right name, Red?
As far as I know, huh?
I only met him a couple of times.
He hung around Ziggy's place when he first come to town.
Of course, I didn't know what he was up to then.
Do you know him well enough to talk to him?
Well, just about, yeah.
I don't have buddies with him or anything.
That's why I don't want to get out, you know?
If he gets the word I'm on your team, I'm a dead duck.
I don't think he'll waste a minute killing me.
You don't have to worry, Red. We'll keep it quiet.
Well, did you hear anything else, or is that just about the size of him?
No, that's just about it, fellas.
I'll keep near the ground.
If I get any more rumble, I'll pass it on.
Well, guess you know I really hate to talk about it.
What's that, Red?
Well, I mean how bad things have been running lately, you know,
since I got laid off on Ziggy's.
My hustle like mad with the programs down the track
doesn't bring in a whole lot, though.
And that lousy landlady had to raise my rent last week.
How much can you use, Red?
Well, you know, Sergeant, anything at all, just let alone maybe something to help me over the home.
Well, the only thing I have is a 20, Joe. You got any change?
Thanks, Romero. I try and be fine. That's plenty. I sure appreciate that.
Oh, yeah.
Well, real good hamburger steak Johnny puts up.
I got to get going, fellas. Got me down the track.
All right, Red, thanks a lot.
If there's anything else, call us. You got our number.
Sure thing, I'll stay right on it.
You want me for anything holler, huh? I'm still the same place.
Right. Thanks a lot. I'll see you there.
Yeah, take it easy, Red. Yeah, bye, Red.
Hmm, he's getting a little expensive, huh?
He's probably been having a rough time, but he looked hungry to me.
Sure did. Grabbed that $20 bill like his life depended on him.
I went to buy some new wool socks, was there?
Well, I'll split it with you. It'd be worth more than 20 bucks if the tip pays off.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind giving him the 20 bucks. It was worth it.
But look at this year. Oh, you got the check for the food, huh?
Yeah, I think the least he could have done was pay for his own lunch.
By and large, the character of the informant in fact or fiction
isn't generally regarded with too much sympathy.
To most people, the informant's nothing more than a stool pigeon, a squealer,
somebody who, with a very active informing, commits a sin against a supposedly popular unwritten law.
Well, it's obvious that this isn't always so,
because in the interests of law enforcement and justice, which means the betterment of the community,
the informant very often plays a major role.
Year after year, informants are responsible for the apprehension and conviction of many hundreds of criminals,
people who rob and cheat and commit murder, crimes that are obviously far deadlier than informing.
As for the mechanics of law enforcement at the level of the working detective,
the informant is considered virtually indispensable.
It's been said before by peace officers, and it'll probably be said again quite a few times.
If your job is catching criminals and enforcing the law, this is the first rule you have to learn.
The working detective is no better than his informants.
2.12 p.m. Ben and I had no idea if the information we'd gotten from Red Smalley was authentic or not,
but it had to be checked out.
We went back to the office and had Frank Cunningham and R. and I check on Jeff Allen.
We also had the stats office make a run for us on suspects with similar M.O.s.
Then we started to page through reports of burglaries, which had occurred throughout the city during the past three months.
Hmm, no.
How you doing over there? Anything at all?
Not too much. Wait a minute, maybe. This might be one of them.
Here, let me see.
Home in Hollenbeck Park neighborhood. Burglar's M.O. matches out in a time element, too.
Happened six weeks ago. Window on the second floor of the house was pried open. They took furs and money. $23.
Uh-huh. That the only one you found?
Another one here I took out a minute ago.
M.O. was pretty much the same on this one, too.
Only thing different is the night of the week it happened on. This one's a Thursday. That one there's a Sunday.
Yeah, it checks out pretty close otherwise. The only one thing I can't figure.
What's that?
Well, Allen's supposed to have been in the city for at least six months.
According to Red, he's working a job maybe once a week, once every ten days or so.
Now, you got two reports there that matches M.O. here.
I picked out two more from that other pile.
Seems to me if he's been working in town for a couple of months, there ought to be more than four reports on him, shouldn't there?
I got it.
Burglar and Merrill. Oh, yeah, Frank. Jeff Allen. Is that so?
Oh, you have, huh? Okay, right, Frank. Thank you.
Yeah?
R. and I got a make on Allen. He's had one arrest here four years ago in a vag charge.
He's a loser out of Michigan. Fell for burglary. Never been picked up for burglary here, though. He isn't registered.
And that's all, huh?
That's it.
Doesn't seem to gel right to me. Does it to you?
Lot of loose ends to figure out.
I wonder if Red was handing us a line on this thing.
Why would he?
Well, maybe he needed that $20 touch. Maybe this Jeff Allen's an old pal of his. Red had a falling out with him. He wants to get even with him, I suppose.
It's possible, I guess. I don't know.
Hi, Charles.
Ben.
Oh, hello, Jim.
Sabre, what are you saying? What's with you? You still on that stakeout south of the town?
Yeah, third week. Sure getting dull. You two look busy. What's all this?
Well, we got a tip on some prowler. Just trying to get a line on.
Take a look at this 3.1, will you, Jim? You run into any jobs recently to stack up like this?
Yeah, I see.
We're shooting in the dark on it so far. I don't know if we got anything or not.
I'd say you got it. Burglary port in the 77 division this morning. Happened to check it when I was out there.
Same MO as this?
Same everything.
4.55 p.m. Ben and I went down the hall to the record bureau and picked up a couple of mugshots of the suspect, Jefferson Allen.
Then we drove out to the 1322 club on North Ferris Avenue in the Silver Lake District, the neighborhood bar where Allen spent most of his time, according to our informant, Red Smalley.
We staked out on the car down the street where we could keep an eye on the front door to the bar and still not look suspicious.
Between 5 and 7.30 p.m. we watched at least two dozen customers entering or leaving the bar, but none of them came close to Allen's description.
8 p.m. Nothing. By the time we were relieved on stake out at 11 p.m., Allen still had failed to show.
Late the following afternoon, we were back at the same spot, watching for a sign of the suspect. 6.48 p.m.
How you fix your smokes?
I think I got a couple left. Here you go.
Oh, thanks.
KGT, I lost angle.
I got a light here.
Yeah.
118, 16 spring. 118, 16 spring.
Hey, have a look, Joe. Gray hat, dark suit. Just came out of the bar.
Yeah, he's coming this way. Yeah, I'll buy it. That's him.
Getting in that blue sedan.
All right, don't press him. Let's give him a good lead.
Right.
He's getting in.
What do you think, Joe? Let's wait a minute.
Yeah, okay, we're clear.
All right.
You got him spotted?
Yeah, no trouble. That's a funny one, huh? Wonder why we didn't see him go in the bar.
I don't know. Might be a delivery entrance in the back of the place we could have missed.
Can you make out that license number?
Can you pull out just a little? That's good.
Yeah, let's see. Seven Tom, seven, nine, seven, two. I better check it.
80K to control one. 80K to control one.
Control one to 80K. Go ahead.
Control one. Request rolling make and DMV on seven Tom, seven, nine, seven, two.
That's seven Tom, seven, nine, seven, two.
Control one to 80K. Roger. Stand by. KMA three, six, seven.
Doesn't seem to be in any great hurry. Barely poking along.
Where is he now? I can't see.
Just turned right onto Bronson.
I want to give him plenty of lean. Yeah, that's him up ahead there.
He's picking up speed now. Don't lose him. Right.
Control one to 80K. Control one to 80K. Come in, please.
Here we go. 80K to control one. Go ahead.
Seven Tom, seven, nine, seven, two.
The car is registered to D. Denver, J. John Carpenter.
1322 North Ferris Avenue, Los Angeles.
80K to control one. Roger.
KMA three, six, seven. Carpenter. Same guy who owns the bar, isn't it?
His Allen must know him pretty well. Well enough to use his car.
I wonder what the pitch is there. You checked on Carpenter, didn't you?
Yeah. Clean bill of health. No record.
Yeah. He's up ahead there. Now he's slowing down.
Yeah. Turning up on that driveway.
Pull up onto that tree there, huh? Right.
That's fine.
See him? Uh-huh.
Getting out. Going into that bungalow over there.
Letting himself in the front door.
No sign of anybody else there, huh? No.
House was dark when we drove up, wasn't it?
He couldn't be living there alone. He might be.
Doesn't make much sense to me.
Why would a single guy get himself a house that big?
Well, let's wait it out. Maybe he'll come up with the answer.
9.15 PM. We continued our stakeout on the bungalow on South Bronson Avenue.
A little more than an hour passed when we saw the lights go out on the house.
The suspect, Jeff Allen, came out the front door, locked up, got in his car, and drove off.
Ben and I followed him.
He drove directly to the bar on North Ferris Avenue, the 1322 Club.
He parked his car and went inside.
Ben and I drove back to the cottage on South Bronson and let ourselves in through the back door.
A preliminary check of the house failed to give us any real proof that Allen was the suspect we wanted.
The only possible lead we came up with was an expensive hunting rifle,
which we found stored away in one of the closets.
We copied down the serial number on the gun, drove to a neighborhood cigar store,
called the office, and asked them to check out the number for us.
Yeah, right, Murph. We'll wait for the call. Yeah, thanks.
How'd you do?
Gonna check it through now they'll call us.
Good. I'm a little hungry, aren't you?
Would you like a candy bar?
No, I'm getting a little tired of them. I wouldn't mind a square meal, though.
My back's killing me. Never been so sore in my life.
Why, what's the matter? Did you fall?
No, nothing like that. It's my snoring again.
Your snoring? What's that got to do with it?
Almost broke my back. It was the wife's idea.
She claims when I'm sleeping I roll over on my back and snore as it keeps her awake all night.
There's not much you can do about it, is there?
Yeah, the wife thought of something. Supposed to be an old home remedy.
She sewed a couple of golf balls right into the back of my pajamas.
You get the idea behind it?
If you roll over on your back, the golf balls dig into you and you have to roll over on your side again.
Mm-hmm. Well, so what happened to you?
Well, I'm a sound sleeper. Rolled over on my back and stayed there.
Slept on those golf balls all night.
Woke up in the morning, liked to have died.
Felt like I'd snapped a couple of vertebrae.
Must be an easier way to keep you from sleeping on your back.
I wouldn't do any good anyhow, Joe. It just won't work.
What do you mean?
I snore just as loud sleeping on my side.
I'll get it.
Hello?
Yeah, Murph, this is Joe Friday.
Mm-hmm.
W-615-344. Yeah, that checks. That was the serial number on it.
When was that? Huh? Yeah. Yeah, okay, Murph. Thanks. Bye.
I think maybe we gotta break.
Yeah?
They got a make on the gun we found.
Is it registered to Allen?
No, it was taken in a burglary two months ago.
You are listening to Dragnet, authentic stories of your police force in action.
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Music
Tuesday night, April 17th, 1038 p.m.
We got additional information from the office on the hunting rifle that we'd found in the bungalow
to which we'd trailed the suspect, Jefferson Allen, a few hours earlier.
The gun was registered to a Mr. Robert LaSalle, 3008 Bush Street.
The rifle, along with $300 in jewelry and $48 in cash,
had been taken from LaSalle's home two months before during his family's absence.
The burglar's method of operation matched Allen's alleged M.O. exactly.
1045 p.m. After arranging for a stakeout to be placed on the bungalow on Bronson Avenue,
Ben and I drove to the 1322 Club on North Ferris where we located the suspect, Jeff Allen.
Yes, sir, that's correct, Sergeant. I'm from back in Michigan originally.
I've been out here about six months now. I think I'm gonna like it.
Sure can't beat this weather, huh?
You've been working here at the bar ever since you got in town, is that right?
No, not quite. I've been here for about four months. Kind of a handyman job.
I help the bartender when I can, keep the store room in order, see everything ship-shaped, you know.
You ever been in Los Angeles before, Allen?
Yeah, just once before, a couple of years ago.
Wasn't so good then. Jobs were hard to get.
I ran into a little bit of trouble. Finally went back east again.
I see. What was this trouble you had?
Well, as I say, jobs were pretty hard to come by then.
I kept checking around, but I couldn't find anything.
Wasn't so good, I finally got picked up on a bag charge.
Spent a couple of weeks at the county.
When I got out, I figured the best thing was head back east again.
A lot better this time, though. I'm doing okay.
See, I couldn't get you anything, huh?
No, thanks, it's the same.
There's something maybe you'd like to talk to me about, anything I can help you with?
It's a routine checkup we're on. Got a few more questions for you, if you don't mind.
Sure. Let's take one of these booths back here, huh?
Might as well be comfortable. Yeah, okay.
Go ahead.
You sure I couldn't get you anything? A bottle of beer, a Coke, maybe?
No, no, thanks.
Do you have your family out here with you, Alan, your wife?
No, I'm not married, Sergeant. I haven't taken the plunge yet.
Figured there's plenty of time for that.
It's hard enough to keep myself going these days, let alone a family.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
You ever been arrested before, Alan?
I mean, other than that vag charge you mentioned, do you ever serve any big time?
Yeah, matter of fact, I have back in Michigan.
Pretty dumb trick I got in trouble as a kid, burglary.
Served all my time, though, I don't owe him a day.
I'm washed up with that stuff a long time ago. It just doesn't pay, that's all.
Er, and that last time there was any trouble was that vag charge, is that it?
Yes, sir, that's it. As I say, I'm all washed up with that stuff.
It doesn't pay off at all, I got wise to that.
Mm-hmm, glad to hear it, Alan. You figure you're gonna stay on here then,
make this your permanent home.
I think I might, I sure like the weather. Job suits me, too.
Boss even lets me use his car once in a while. Pretty nice, huh?
Yeah, huh? Where you living now? You got an apartment in the neighborhood here?
Yeah, I got an apartment, nice little place.
Not exactly in the neighborhood, though, it's out in West Hollywood, right on a bus line.
No trouble getting into work, just a small apartment.
Whereabouts in West Hollywood? You mind giving us the address?
No, it's on Norwich Avenue. Why do you ask?
It's part of this routine check we have to make.
You mind very much if we drive out there with you, I'll look the place over?
No, I don't mind. I mean, if you figure I need checking out,
I just assume clear it up now, I got nothing to hide.
You want me to get my coat? No, that's all right.
Say, uh, I should be back here in an hour or so, what do you think?
I mean, it's just a routine check, it won't take long, will it?
No, not too long. I suppose you can figure that better than we can.
How do you mean? You said you had nothing to hide.
11.20 p.m. We drove the suspect Jeff Allen to his apartment on Norwich Avenue.
It was more than two and a half miles from the bungalow on South Bronson
where we'd followed Allen earlier that night
and where we'd located the stolen hunting rifle.
While Ben and I made a thorough check of the apartment,
Allen sat relaxed in an easy chair.
Ben and I covered everything in the apartment,
but there was no evidence of any loot taken in the burglaries.
That's about it, Joe, checked everything.
Okay. That's about it, huh, Sergeant?
You fellas want a beer before we go back to the club?
Just one or two more questions, Allen, and I think we can wash this thing up.
Sure, Sergeant.
Do you rent some other place in town, another house or an apartment, maybe?
Another place? No, why would I do that?
This is my apartment. This is where I live. Why do you ask that?
About six o'clock tonight, you were seen going into a bungalow over on South Bronson,
the same neighborhood as the club where you work.
We got a pretty good idea that there's quite a bit of loot from burglaries stored in that house.
I don't follow you, Sergeant. I don't know what you mean.
I don't live on South Bronson. I live here. You ought to be able to tell that.
You were seen going into the bungalow, Allen, about five minutes past six tonight.
We found a stolen hunting rifle in the house.
It was taken in a burglary. You think you want to tell us about it?
No, I can't tell you anything about it. I don't have any bungalow on South Bronson.
I'm not even sure I can tell you where the street is.
Well, you better get your hat, mister. We'll show you.
Eleven forty-eight p.m.
We got in the car and started driving down Beverly Boulevard
back toward the bungalow on South Bronson Avenue.
When we got to the bungalow, the suspect still refused to admit that he had a key to the door
or that he was in any way concerned with the place.
We had him empty his pockets, and among his possessions we found a ring of keys.
We tried them on the front door of the bungalow.
The fourth one we tried opened it. We went inside.
Allen still would admit nothing.
Ben contacted the landlady next door, and she said she'd be right over.
I continued questioning him while Ben checked through the house again.
Hey, Joe.
Huh?
Joe, you want to come back here? I think we've got something.
Yeah, all right, Ben. You want to go ahead back there, Allen?
Sure.
Still can't tell you what the score is, though I don't belong in this place. It ain't mine.
Well, that key you had seemed to fit the front door all right. How do you figure that?
That doesn't mean anything. I had that key for years.
I think it's a skeleton key. Opens almost any kind of lock.
Down here, Joe, a small basement here. Leads right down off the kitchen.
Yeah, all right. Go ahead, Allen.
Hmm.
Have a look, Joe. Line of cupboards all the way around here.
Check them for yourself.
Yeah, all right.
It's a pretty good hall. Furze, machinist tools.
Jewelry. Quite a bit of it here. A couple of radios.
Two more hunting rifles.
Come on, how about it, Allen? You want to save time for all of us now?
You got it wrong, Sergeant. This isn't my place. I told you.
When I got out of that trouble back east, I made up my mind I was all washed up with this kind of stuff.
This house isn't mine. I haven't got anything to do with it.
You're kidding yourself, Allen. You know that.
Oh, you got it all wrong. You got it all mixed up.
Well, we'll let the landlady tell us.
The woman who owns this house, she's on her way over from next door.
She ought to be able to tell us who she rented the place to.
Wouldn't you say so?
Wouldn't you?
She might be wrong. It's possible.
No, look, we got you dead to rights, mister. Why not face it?
Can't.
I won't do it. I made up my mind the last time. It wouldn't happen again.
I was all washed up with it. I won't go through it again. They'll send me back.
I won't be able to take it.
Maybe you should have figured that before you started in.
I didn't mean to. I was all washed up with that stuff.
I told you that the first time I saw you, didn't I?
Yeah.
I'm sure of it, too. I wouldn't try it again.
Didn't pay.
It's just what I told you. I'm all through with it. I'm washed up with it.
I never lied to you, did I?
What's the difference?
Huh?
You lied to yourself.
The story you have just heard was true.
The names were changed to protect the innocent.
On July 6th, trial was held in Superior Court,
Department 86, City and County of Los Angeles, State of California.
In a moment, the results of that trial.
Now, here is our star, Jack Webb.
Thank you.
September. Fatima first made its famous money back offer.
Millions heard it, yet only 46 have written.
October. Actual figures reported Fatima's sales up 110 percent coast to coast,
or more than double.
November. Thousands more switching to Fatima.
So why wait? Buy Fatima. Best of all, king-size cigarettes.
And Mr. Dealer, that's your cue for November.
This month, with Thanksgiving and the holidays coming up,
I know you'll want to get your full share of all the new Fatima business.
Check your Fatima stock tomorrow.
Make sure you can take care of the thousands of Americans who are switching to Fatima,
insisting on Fatima quality.
The apprehension of the suspect, Jefferson Harold Allen,
resulted in clearing 22 cases of burglaries committed over the past four months.
Allen was indicted on 22 counts of first-degree burglary
and received sentence as prescribed by law.
First-degree burglary is punishable by imprisonment in the state penitentiary
for not less than five years.
Ladies and gentlemen, only 2.6 patients out of every 100
reaching the most forward hospitals in Korea died later.
The comparable figure in World War II was 4.5.
According to official medical statements,
the almost miraculous success in saving the lives of casualties
is owing in part to the prompt use of blood plasma on the battlefield
and whole blood in military hospitals.
Whole blood reduces shock, a potential killer,
and replaces blood loss through bleeding.
In the treatment of many battle casualties, there's no substitute for blood.
Every American who has given blood can and should feel
he personally has contributed directly to the saving of the life of an American boy.
This month, your country is short 300,000 pints of blood.
Please give your blood and save a life.
Music
Best of all, king-size cigarettes has brought you Dragnet,
transcribed from Los Angeles.
Today is the silver anniversary of NBC.