I watched the uncut LOTR: Return of the King at Alamo Drafthouse in January. It was over 4 hours long and felt shorter than this episode. So did January.
Customer Marty is buying a vinyl record for $.75 which is shocking because, I half-expected a wax cylinder. The elderly record shop owner, Mr. Brockman [1] tells his clerk Fred that he is just the young fella to take over the shop. He then goes to get a haircut.
A shifty-looking guy enters the shop wearing a fedora and 1940’s suit, but I guess that wasn’t really suspicious in 1949. Fred profiles him as a Beethoven fan, providing the 2nd consecutive shout-out on this blog and, shockingly, neither refer to the dog.
The man — Mr. Evans — asks Fred when he gets off work. He gives Fred a wad of cash and his room number at the Griffin Hotel, and tells him to show up as soon as possible. He says he really needs Fred’s help. It is hard to believe there was once a more innocent time when this scene would not be viewed as squirmy as it seems now.
The shop’s upstairs neighbor comes down to complain about the noise from this awful TV show. She threatens to call the cops and leaves. Brockman comes back early because the barber was busy. Hey, it’s 1949 — just wear a hat! Fred is a good egg — he is genuinely worried about Mr. Evans, so goes to the hotel to make sure he is OK.
In the small hotel room there are several people, including a dame named Millie, his customer Marty, several gangstas, and Mr. Evans.
They grill Fred about what Evans invited him over for. Fred finally notices Mr. Evans is also there, covered in blood. His final words are a warning to Marty, “3-3 drums”.
Fred awakens alone to find Evans dead. Millie returns and warns him that the gang is trying to frame him. The police show up, so Millie and Fred escape to a diner. Millie says they were torturing Evans for government secrets and taking a $12 Snickers from the mini-fridge. Fred concludes it must have had something to do with the records.
They return to the shop where the neighbor is trying to lure Brockman upstairs for a nightcap, perhaps to cover his unkempt hair. Fred deduces that Evans was referring to a Drums album. Fred discovers that played at 78 rpm [2], the record sounds like drums, but played at 33 1/3 rpm, it recites the nuclear launch codes! And played at 45 rpm, it sounds like REM. [3]
Brockman is in on it. Evans was a G-man. A cop shows up in response to the neighbor’s noise complaint and hauls them all in.
A pretty sad showing for Suspense this week. At its relative best, the series is archaic and simplistic. This was just too much, or maybe too little. The story was LP-thin, the twist was Ludacris, and the background music muffled the dialogue. Most of the episodes so far at least tried to manufacture some suspense, but this was just very ♭.
I rate it 16 rpm. [4]
Other Stuff:
- [1] Julian Noa (Brockman) was born in 1879, before phonograph records were invented. Lon McCallister (Fred) died in 2005, so mostly outlived records.
- [2] Most of the records in the shop would have been 78’s. They had only started being replaced by 33 1/3’s in 1948.
- [3] The fastest song I could think of. Would also have accepted Flight of the Bumble Bee or Life is a Rock. That one is fun because you get excited when you can actually make out a couple of words — like with Bob Dylan in concert. BTW, I know 78 rpm is faster than 45 rpm, but it’s getting late.
- [4] 16 rpm was an actual standard that was an option on record-players of the day. Music historians believe it was a brief effort to silence the insufferable Miles Davis which failed (i.e. you could still hear the caterwauling [5] ). Scientists and humanitarians eventually found a solution in the 0 rpm format.

[5] Technically hep-caterwauling, I guess.







Mrs. Griffen comes to Mr. Crabtree’s apartment to collect his past due rent. He assures her that he will pay the 18 months due once he gets a job. Since he is 64, it better be soon. She gives him 2 weeks notice.
A young woman [2] listed on IMDb as Mrs. X (née Mrs. Twitter) knocks on his door and offers to pay him for his services, which is opposite the transaction that I’m used to. But, to be fair, she is responding to a job application he sent in, not a card shoved at me on Las Vegas Boulevard. I mean him. I said me, but I meant him.

However they have also inserted a second new sponsored-by intro. We are shown, in glorious B&W (that is not sarcasm), molten aluminum being poured into a vat which, hopefully, is not made of aluminum. It really is a beautiful shot, but I have to wonder: Who is this marketing directed toward?
Fielding goes to see Harris in the brig. Turns out Harris is tormented by the memory of his 19 year old brother who was killed. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the war. He was a medical missionary [1] who only wanted to, “take penicillin and the word of the Lord to the Hottentots.” After Pearl Harbor, Harris talked his brother into joining the army, and also suggested he take up smoking.
Like Alfred Hitchcock Presents, One Step Beyond sometimes, and it is a rarity, coasts along on its sheer professionalism. As usual, the episode is well-cast and well-directed. The SFX, whether original or stock, solidly support the story. But there are a couple of problems, large and small.