We open on two dead women having lunch.  Well they’re dead now, not in the scene below.  Although the one on the left is iffy. ^[1]

Agatha asks Sally ^[5] (pop quiz, hotshot: which is which?) how work is going.  Sally says the hours are long, but it keeps her in New York.  She also mentions seeing a lot of George who lives in her building.

Well, hey, George drops by the table and greets his Aunt Agatha.  He says he is surprised Sally isn’t working.  She says, “The typewriter’s under the table” although I’ve never heard it called that.  George has brought a taxi to pick up his elderly aunt.  She has not finished her tea so tells him to have the taxi wait.  Sadly, he does not have enough cash.  Agatha gives Sally that knowing look.  They hear thunder, so Agatha decides to leave after all.  She gives Sally cash to pay the bill and asks her to drop by her apartment that night.

This is some swell apartment building with a doorman, a mailman, a bellhop, and an elevator operator.  Unfortunately, they are all one creepy guy named Andy.  He takes George, Agatha, and her neighbor Harry Crane ^[2] up to the 13th floor.  On the way, Harry complains that Agatha is playing her radio next door too loudly at night.  Although, because the show is Edgar Bergen & Charlie McCarthy, it is actually coming from across the alley. ^[6]   They get out on 13, but George asks Andy to wait because the elevator doesn’t have a meter like the taxi.  Agatha asks him to stay, but he says he has things to do.

After he leaves, she notices that a jade Buddha and some other items (a pyrite Joseph Smith and a rare Reese’s Jesus made out of chocolate and peanut butter) are missing.  The window is open.  She calls the cops, but a beefy hand covers her mouth.

Sally comes home.  She knocks on Agatha’s door, but gets no answer.  Harry comes out into the hall and tells her 1) it is too late to be knocking on doors, 2) her smelly cat sneaks into his window at night and wakes him up, and 3) he believes FDR is still alive and we never landed on Guam.

After she puts away the groceries, she decides to try Agatha’s door again.  She discovers her own door will not open.  She does not see what we see — an eye staring in through her peephole!  She tries to make a call, but the phone is dead.  Yikes!

She writes a note for the milkman that I-am-trapped-by-a-killer-please-for-the-love-of-God-let-me-out!, and also no more cheese because it makes the cat fart.  She slides it halfway under the door, but seconds later notices the paper has already been taken.  Through the peephole, she sees Andy leaving Agatha’s apartment.  Well wait, was he doing wind-sprints from Agatha’s door, to Sally’s door to grab the note, back to Agatha’s door, then fleeing Agatha’s door again?  She tries to get the attention of the Peeping Tom across the alley, but his wife busts him before she can get her blouse off.

Next, she ties a note to her cat’s collar and sends it out on the ledge to Harry’s window. ^[3]  A little later Harry knocks on her door, and she opens it right up. Hunh?  OK, maybe someone unlocked it from the outside, but she did not know that and she did not hesitate for a second to open it.  Anyhoo, he chews her out for letting the cat go in his window again.  She tries to explain about her door and seeing Andy, but he doesn’t care.

She tries the fire door to go drag George into this, but it won’t open.  She sees a paper on the floor.  But wait, this note is folded up like the one she attached to her cat, not flat like the one she shoved under the door.  How the heck would that have gotten there?  I guess Crane could have dropped it when he returned the cat, but why should this be worth dwelling on?  Even if it was the milkman note, so what?  She goes to Agatha’s apartment, but does not see her.  There is a single shoe beside the refrigerator. She opens the refrigerator door and screams in revulsion at some old cottage cheese, and the old woman’s body.  Oh, wait, that’s not cottage cheese.  Sally staggers to the phone and calls the police.

At the same time, Andy and George are dragging a large wicker basket from the elevator to Agatha’s door.  Andy says he killed Agatha because she came home early and caught him in her apartment, and that he fortuitously just got a great deal  on the basket at at Pier 1.  They open the door and drag the basket in — wait, if  Andy has a master key, why did he come in through the window for the heist?  And, hey, where is Sally?

Andy and George argue over how Agatha’s leg came to be sticking out of the door, and whether she might still be alive.  As they argue, there is a shockingly well-composed shot of Sally hiding in the living room.

The men begin pulling Agatha out of the refrigerator and the credits begin.  Well that didn’t resolve much.  The abrupt conclusion on Tubi is noted by reviewers at IMDb.  It just seemed egregious even for this series, so I searched for another copy of the episode at YouTube after finding nothing at Pornhub.  Sure enough, the last 2 minutes had the climax.  At YouTube, I mean, not Pornhub.

Sally tries to flee the apartment, but George catches her.  She distracts him, runs out into the hallway and locks Agatha’s door.  What kind of crazy apartment building is this where tenants can be locked in?  Where does this take place, Wuhan?  No wonder the cat is always trying to escape.  Naturally Harry comes out to complain about the noise and fluoride in the water.  He threatens to call the police, and Sally begs him to.

Of course, the episode is dreadful by today’s standards.  But is that really an excuse?  They had made some pretty good movies by this time.  Hitchcock had several suspense classics under his belt, but who could ever see them there? ^[4] All the pieces were there, but the low budget, live TV, poor picture quality, and intrusive organ music undermine the whole production.

Maybe it is better to judge these episodes on what they were attempting.  There were a couple of set pieces designed for the titular suspense here, so they did make an effort.  I guess what I’m trying to say is, what the hell happened to this country where we can’t count all the votes in 2 freakin’ weeks?

Other Stuff:

• [1]  Nell Harrison (Agatha) was born in 1880.  She might be the earliest-born actor I’ve encountered here yet.  18 years after this episode, in a stretch, she played “Old Woman” in The Producers.  Paging Oscar!
• [2]  Harry is played by Russell Collins who I previously anointed as the greatest actor in history.  To be honest, he isn’t very good here, but it is one of his first roles.
• [3]  In a quaint sign of live TV, she can’t make the note stay attached.  Luckily she releases the cat just outside her window so we can’t see her hands as she drops it.  Bravo!  However, she also releases it in the opposite direction of Harry’s apartment.
• And how crazy do you have to be to use a cat for anything on live TV?
• [4]  Blatant fat-shaming.  And isn’t the phrase fat-shaming just more fat-shaming?
• [5]  Where are all the Sallys today?  Seems like a fine name, with attractive connotations.  Sally Ride was cool, Sally Field is still cute at 95.
• [6]  If this doesn’t make sense, have a séance and ask your grandparents; or a dead nerd.

At the Royal Crown Life Insurance Company, Investigator Westcott (no first name) pounds the hell out of a cigarette. ^[1] He tells his boss he thinks they made a mistake paying out the Mead claim.  His boss grabs the cigarettes from him and says, “There was nothing fishy about the death certificate.  You saw how he died.”  Westcott says the doctor who issued the death certificate had his license taken away — and married Mead’s widow!  Not only that, but Westcott says she had just taken out a “big hefty” policy naming the doctor as the beneficiary! ^[3]  His boss is shocked by this revelation.

Well wait, they just paid the claim.  Didn’t these chowderheads already know when the policy was purchased, who purchased it, and who they just cut a check to?  And did it not arouse suspicion that Mrs. Mead bought a policy on her husband and made another man the beneficiary? ^[3]

Westcott pays a visit to Mrs. Mead (now Mrs. Archer) who is smoking, but not smokin’ if ya get me.  This show must have been sponsored by Lucky Strike because there is a lot of smoking.  Mrs. Archer’s first line is the oddly singular, first person, present tense, “Oh, I just love a cigarette!”

Westcott asks how she hurt her arm.  She says she fell down the cellar stairs like Don DeFore’s mother.  “It wasn’t very bright of me to leave the rolling pin at the top of the stairs.  I haven’t the slightest idea why I left it there.”  WTF? ^[4]  He asks if she has had any other accidents since her husband has taken out a big policy on her.  She tells Westcott she can’t understand why her husband would take out a big policy on her.  Ach du Lieber, this dumbbell could work for the Royal Crown Life Insurance Company!

Westcott tells her that in 1933 her husband’s mother tripped over a broom and fell down the stairs, leaving him a policy worth $25,000.  Then the steering failed in his brother’s car and he collected another $20,000.  Then he set his sister up on a date with Ted Kennedy. ^[2]  She demands, “What has this got to do with how my first husband died?  Certainly my husband didn’t get anything out of that!”  Well, except for the life insurance proceeds that we were told in the first scene were paid directly to him. ^[3]

Mrs. Archer throws him out, but not before he makes two parting comments:  1) Be very careful, and 2) I’ll leave the cigarettes for you.

That night, Mrs. Archer gets a telegram addressed to Mrs. Mead.  She has won $150,000 in the Irish Sweepstakes!  I wish I knew how to make a gif because Dr. Archer’s delayed reaction from ho-hum to WHAT’S THAT ! is classic.  Mrs. Archer says her dead husband must have purchased it.  Fortunately, you don’t have to be present to win the Irish Sweepstakes or, of course, sober.  You do need the ticket, however, and they have no idea what Mr. Mead did with it.  After searching the house, they conclude it must be in a pocket of the suit he was buried in.

Mrs. Archer suggests they could get a court order to dig up the body.  Dr. Archer doesn’t want the cops sniffing around the exhumed body; and, after 6 months, it wouldn’t be too pleasant for the cops, either.

Dr. Archer has some goons dig up the coffin.  He doesn’t find the ticket.  Some cops stumble upon the site.  They all get away, but the cops decide to haul the body in for another autopsy.  Archer gets a call that arsenic was found in Mead’s body.  He tells his wife the call was from a patient.  But wait, his license was revoked.  Also, wasn’t he a coroner?  Spooky.

He writes a letter confessing to the murder of Mr. Mead, and sign’s his wife’s name.  Yada, yada . . . Dr. Archer tries to kill his wife, fails, and is busted.

Robert Coogan (Westcott) does a great job.  Literally, every other actor hams it up just as much as the intrusive organ (my nickname at the gym).  While looking up some background on the episode, I discovered that the same story was the basis of an AHP episode that I somehow skipped.  That will be the next post.

Other Stuff:

• [1]  I had to Google why smokers tap their cigarettes.  It is to pack the tobacco in tightly because in the old days, the tobacco would fall out.  Or it is to loosen the tobacco allowing it to breathe.  Gee thanks Google.  Do I have to send Elon Musk over there to straighten your ass out, too?
• [2]  Sorry for two consecutive posts with Chappaquiddick references.  I couldn’t figure out how Dr. Archer could have insured the Lindbergh baby which would have least been close in the timeline.
• [3]  To be fair, I finally figured out that they mean that Mrs. Mead took out a new policy on herself that names Dr. Archer as beneficiary.  It is misleading because Westcott says she “had taken” not she “has taken”.  It is just poorly written.  On the other hand, it is stated later that her husband bought the policy on her.  I’m writing this at 3 am.  What’s their excuse?
• [4]  The incongruity of the rolling pin reminded me of this from almost 50 years ago.  There is a better clip here, but I couldn’t make the embedded video skip to the right timestamp.  The wording is vastly superior at the first link, but the fishing rod is in Tim Conway’s face the whole time.  Directoring!

The titular Ernest takes his gal Margaret to the movies.  And I mean takes her and leaves her — to see “a news-reel, a sports-short, a travelogue, Bugs Bunny, and a double-feature.” ^[1]  They figure that will time out about the same as the double-header he is going to see at Ebbets Field.  Unless both movies are The Ten Commandments, I think she should count on him being late. ^[2]

She makes sure that Ernest is wearing his medical alert bracelet and has his please-for-the-love-of-God-DO-resuscitate letter.  She puts it in the pocket of his Joe Mannix sports-coat and tells him not to take it off at the ball-game.

Skipping ahead to the Fran portion of the program.

As she enters the theater, he crosses the street and is almost clipped by a car.  This triggers his catalepsy — an affliction that makes it appear that he is dead.  It even imitates the early stages of rigor-mortis.  If this had happened after sitting in the sun in his jacket & tie for a double-header at Ebbets, he probably would have smelled dead, too.  Officer Chauncy Lindell takes off the jacket and makes a pillow for Ernest’s head.  His medical bracelet is kicked down a sewer grate.

An opportunistic haberdasher sees the coat just sitting there after the ambulance carts Ernest away.  So he takes it back to his shop and puts a price tag on it.  Writer Fran and her actor husband Henry enter looking for a sports jacket.  Inexplicably, the proprietor tells them to try Abercrombie & Fitch.  Fran says they are too expensive.  She sees Ernest’s jacket on the counter and says, “Hey, is that a Joe Mannix?”  Because of, or despite, some blood stains, they are able to buy the jacket for $5.

While Fran is scrubbing out the stains, she finds the letter.  She reads it aloud:

I carry this wherever I go.  It is to advise responsible parties that I am a cataleptic.  My body must not be molested for a period of 72 hours, neither by autopsy nor embalming.  The maximum period of my attacks rarely exceed 4 hours.  Please call my wife or doctor.  This is of vital importance.  It may mean my life.

Fran asks Henry what a cataleptic is.  He says, “Don’t ask me.  I went to a drama school, not Johns Hopkins.”  Wait, an actor not presenting himself as an expert in medicine, science, and politics?  This guy will never get hired!  They look it up in a dictionary — the old kind that can’t be instantly changed online to suit some 23 year old’s fascist political whims.

Credit where due:  Fran and Henry have a good, logical conversation deducing how the bloody jacket came to be at the shop, the timing of the event, and the condition the owner might be in.

We cut to a couple of yahoos in the morgue listening to a ballgame on the radio.  The announcer says Jackie Robinson has just stolen a base, “That boy can really run.”  Okaaaaay.  There is a refreshing flash of creativity as Ernest is wheeled into the morgue, toe-tag first.  He appears dead except, unseen by the attendants, one hand is opening and closing.

Henry, and especially Fran, prove to be pretty good detectives as they try to piece together what happened.  There is even a nice attempt at the titular suspense as they need to use a payphone and some woman is hogging it.  Fran tries to call Mrs. Bowers, but she is still at the theater on about Commandment #7.

So they go back to the clothing shop.  The owner is reluctant to admit he picked up the jacket off the street after being used to prop up a dead guy’s noggin.  He finally fesses up.  His description of the event convinces Fran and Henry that the jacket’s owner is in danger of being embalmed at the morgue.  They try to call, but the two yahoos don’t answer the phone.

As the two morgue monkeys assemble their needles and scalpels, the organ really starts in.  One of them has a problem with his glasses fogging up when he leans over the corpse’s face.  There is a nice fuzzy POV shot of Ernest through the steamy glasses — unfortunately, it is from the camera’s POV, on the other side of the body from the coroner.

Finally, they answer the phone.  In the 2nd of back-to-back errors, he answers the phone without it ringing — which is the opposite of what I do.  He says, “It is some dame babbling about a guy with no coat that may not be dead.”  His blurry-eyed partner comes to the same conclusion. ^[4]

Finally Ernest opens his eyes.

There was some good stuff here.  The title is awesomely grim for 1949.  The scenario has suspense baked in.  There was some intelligent dialogue as Fran and Henry pursued the mystery.  They manufactured suspense with the phone calls and Ernest’s imminent embalming.  Margaret Phillips was delightful as Fran.  She was smart, sexy, and had an awesome Mid-Atlantic accent that sounded like Katherine Hepburn, but less like a car-starting. ^[3]

On the down side . . . well, you have to just accept that it was made in 1949 for no budget.  I guess Auto-Lite did not cough up the big bucks like Alcoa on One Step Beyond.  They played the telephone card too much here, but again, you are dealing with those limitations, plus a short running time.  The main criticism, as in previous episodes, is the obnoxious organ music.  You could say that’s just how things were done at the time, but it doesn’t make it right.  Just ask Jackie Robinson.

Other Stuff:

• [1]  All for the low, low price of 35 cents.
• [2]  When Googling Ten Commandments, the first suggestion is the movie not the, ya know, actual Ten Commandments.  Just sayin’.
• [3]  I would give attribution for that great analogy, but I can’t remember where I heard it.  Actually Margaret was born in the UK, so I’m sure some of that is in there too.  She was last seen as a naughty, naughty girl in ToT’s The Evil Within.
• [4] There was another goof in the lab earlier.  One of the guys commented on Ernest being brought in with no clothes, then corrects himself to say no jacket.
• Suspiciously similar to Breakdown on AHP.  Catalepsy and a Get Out of Morgue Free Card also play roles in another AHP episode, One Grave Too Many.
• The first writing credit for Seeleg Lester.  That might mean nothing to you, but it means nothing to anyone else either.  He did have a yuge career, though.
• Not that anyone else cares, but it really bugs me that the top photo is not the Joe Mannix jacket.  He wouldn’t have been caught dead in that thing.  I think that was a Herb Tarlek.  It was just too tough to find any other shots of Margaret smiling.