Lights Out - Old Time Radio Horror

State Executioner - Lights Out | 08/17/1943 (46)

Hope you enjoy this episode of Lights Out! We offer an old time radio horror and thriller and other OTR radio stations at theaterofthemind-otr.com - Audio Credit: The Old Time Radio Researchers Group - All Podcasts @ Spreaker | Apple Podcasts | YouTube Music

Duration:: 21m
Broadcast on:: 15 Sep 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

It... is... later... that... you... think... let's go back tonight to another time. The time of King George III of England. But our story tonight is not a monarchy. It's the story of an ordinary man by the name of Samuel Jones, who had the extraordinary profession of state executioner. Tonight's lights out presents another psychological drama, a play in which the principal part is taken not by the character himself, but by his thoughts. The voice you're about to hear is that of the thoughts of one Samuel Jones, the state executioner for his majesty, George III. He sits alone in a dismal room, and these are his thoughts. I want to be dead. Dead. Dead. You feel anything when you're dead? Are you hungry or you're cold or you're tired when you're dead? No. When I'm dead, I have peace, peace. I've got to have peace kill myself. Yes. Bullock my life. Bullock my heart. The pain. I don't like pain, but it can't hurt. They say it doesn't hurt, only hanging hurts. I know it does. I've seen their faces when I cut them down, purple, black. I've seen their faces when the masks came off and there's pain in them, pain that twists their faces, rans their teeth and gives them living hell until the last they die. That's why I've got the users' pistol to kill myself. I can't stand pain. All I want is peace. Peace. It's getting late. I've got to do it quick before they get here. I ran much faster than they did, but they get here quick enough. You've got to be dead when they come into that door. They can't bother the dead in that grave. I'll be dead deep, deep in the grave. Why should they blame me? I only did my duty. Someone's got to be the hangman. Someone's got... That's what he said to me that night. That's what his lordship said to me 20 years ago at pause. He said Samuel Jones, eh? Yes, your worship. What makes you think you can do this work? Oh, I just know your worship. I know all about hanging, sir. Everything there is to know. Well, a hemp rope's best for hemp rope, but each rope's got to be fresh and new for every job, and you've got to keep it soap-stoned and always in a cool, dry place. Well, you do know something about it. Oh, yes, sir. Then there's a short drop and a long drop. The long drop's better, sir. I know it is. Eh? It breaks our necks, sir. Every time it breaks our necks. All right, I'll give you your chance. We're having a hanging here tomorrow. I'll let you do it. If all goes well, I'll recommend you to the prison board. If all goes well. Oh, it did go well. Why not? And there I was, executioner for his majesty. Five guineas are broken neck. 777 hangs in 20 years. 777 broken necks on the mind. The hand that's running the trap. 777 times. And now the hand's got a pistol in it. When they reach here, when they knock on that door, I'll press the trigger, and so I won't have them face them. None of them. 777 broken necks and no one knew that I was a man who did it. Not even she knew it. Ellen, my own wife, not even she. I met her, married her, and she didn't know. Until that day. Infernal day, that meddling fool, nosing around. It's the truth. I'm telling you, Mrs. Jones, there's God's bitches. Oh, no, no, there must be some mistakes. No, Mr. Jones, no, Mr. Teetor. Me as been told me, and it never makes mistakes. Not me as been. What did you say? Steak executioner. You know yours, didn't you? Or don't you know? Please, I don't know what you're talking about. Okay, look here, don't you know what yours been done? You mean the business he's in? Business. I hang in for business. Hang in. Hang in. On a rope. But what is Samuel to do with those? Mrs. Jones, are you saying you don't know that Samuel is the angstrom? You must be crazy. Oh, sir, I'm crazy, am I? Well, he's the angstrom. And no mistake about his knot. And he's not, he's not. Get out of here. Get out, get out. Oh, no, you don't have to be. Oh, here he is. Ask him yourself. Oh, Sam. What's going on here? What's the matter? What is it, Ellen? Oh, Sam is this woman. What about this woman? Well, I've done this to tell the God, Sam. Oh, Sam, she says she says what? What? All I said was that you were the angstrom, as you are. Get out of here. No, just a minute. Get out, get out. Oh, nice. I'll go. I'll go. Say one more word about me, and I'll kill you. You hear me? I'll kill you. Madling force. Madling force. Sam. You shouldn't have talked to her. Why did you listen? Things like that. It isn't good for me. And it is true. Man's got to earn his living. I'm living from killing. You're crazy. I don't kill. I don't condemn them. You kill? I tell you I'm not the judge. Oh, no, Ellen. Don't touch me. Hang in. Oh, right. That's what I am. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Hang in. Again and again. What do I care? I like being a hangman. You're a hangman. I like being a hangman. Oh, no. Yes. Get something more. No, Sam. I like killing them. No, no, no. I like the way they stumble when they walk up the stairs. Like the cold whitens of their skins when I put the noose around their necks. I like the way everyone looks at me, watches me, and then the crash of the rope stretches. Sometimes their legs kick in the air and you hear them heaving for the better. They can't get past the type of rope around their neck. No, no, no, no, no, no. No, no, no. When I was a boy there, a strong man up from a tree just outside of a town. And I watched him and I saw him dance on air. And I said to myself someday, I'll do that too. Hang him, legal. Make him dance on air cause it's a law. And now I'm doing what I wanted. Executioner for the crown. And well and want he's a bit. Now, come here to me. Don't stay away from me. Come here. No, I won't stay with you. I won't hang. But I won't stay with you. I'll go away. I'll go away. I'll go away. I thought you wouldn't leave me, but she did. And then left me. I looked all over, couldn't find her. After a while I didn't care what's a woman. I had my work hanging work. Five guineas are hanging in Gold Crow and five of them. Five golden guineas. I like the sound of them. I like the sound of them. One, two, three, four, five. I bought a strong box and kept them there. Every hanging meant five more. Paying me their worth what I like to do. It was funny, very funny. I didn't miss her. Now, why should I? I had my work. I got to be good at my work. The cots were good too. They gave me plenty to do. I tried out different ways. I made a hanging machine with springs and sandbags that jerked the man into the air first and then dropped and threw a crap. I tried out different ropes and different running uses. Oh, I got to be good at it in 20 years. Real good. I'm going to stop ticking. I hear you blasted talk. I hear you. What are you trying to tell me? I know. There's much time left. They'll be here soon. I'll let them come, let them come. I'm ready, pistol in my hand. I'm ready for the first knock on the door. I won't be here to hear them. I'll have peace and class. Whatever they say to me, I won't hear it because I'll be dead. Why should they say it? What's done is done. 777 of them. It was fun because each died different. 777 different hanging. It was fun. I tell you, fun, fun. Summer moment. And someone to the gallows are crying. The best of all, I like the one that went out crazy still. Oh, no. Oh, no. Wait. Yes. The ones that were crazy scared were the best. I like them fine. And five guineas just the same for having fun. Five guineas. I'm fed at the door. I heard a sound. No. I just imagine no one's knocking. They knock. I press the trigger. They won't get me knocked me. 777 at five guineas each. Coins that bit into my flesh when I grab them tight. Oh, I like the sound. Money, money, yellow money. First, I like dangings best, and then the money. And I got to like them both. Watch, eager around the court on this trial, that trial. They hang him with a hanger with the judge, say guilty. If he didn't matter hanging another five guineas. I watch for business, new business, my business. Hang them up and watch them die. When they knock on the door, men, pistols heavy in my hand. Eagles of pistol two, they said, Tom Allen. I read about him in the court announcement one day when I was outside of the court from looking for new business. I mean business. Thomas Allen, 20-year-old law student, was charged by the city police, would have murdered his sweetheart, Lorraine Hamilton, 19-year-old daughter of Arvin Hamilton. Young Allen denied the charge vigorously. He stated that the girl had sent him a letter in which he told her intentions of committing suicide. But had a late hour Allen was unable to produce this letter. He was held without bond at the tower in the church. Yeah, that's what it said, that's what it said. He'd murdered her, younger. The minute I read it, I said to myself saying Jones is the next one. I could hear the money, drinking in my hand already. And Tom Allen, hanging my neck. What am I thinking about? I don't think I'm going to knock on the door and let me get this over with. I need the knocking on the door to give me nerve enough to press the trigger. Just waiting, waiting. I waited for Tom Allen, too. I waited for them to say guilty to him, so I could put the running news around his neck. I waited, waited, going every day to the trial. A prosecutor for the crowns said, guilty. The young man solicitor said, not guilty. The young man said, I didn't do it, I tell you I didn't do it. She did it herself, she wrote me a letter saying that she was killing herself. She wrote me a letter, she wrote me a letter. I said, that's right, she wrote me a letter. Yes, and 20 said, she wrote me a letter saying she was killing herself. And where was the letter? Where was the letter? Nobody knew, couldn't find it. And day after day sitting there in the courtroom, I could see the news coming close and close. A few days more than he'd be dancing on air, another five unis in my box. Such a pity, such a handsome young man, strong young neck for my rope. I say he didn't have a chance. What good did it do for his solicitor, keeps saying? I tell you, gentlemen, it is circumstantial evidence and circumstantial evidence alone which has been produced. A weird combination of circumstances have conspired to make it appear that this suicide of this unfortunate girl was a murder committed by this equally unfortunate young man. And an equally weird set of circumstances have resulted in the disappearance of this vital letter which clears Tom Allen of all responsibility for Mistress Hamilton's death. In this letter, the girl clearly stated that she was taking her own life by poison. In spite of the absence of this letter, surely you as intelligent men can tell after seeing and hearing Tom Allen's testimony that he is telling the truth. That such a letter did reach him and that he is innocent of all wrong to him. But there was no letter. He didn't have a chance. The prosecutor of the crown got up. He said... A letter? A mysterious letter? And where, gentlemen, of the jury, is this letter? To what mystical realms has it disappeared? This wondrous communication which so conveniently absorbed Tom Allen for the death of that poor girl. Where I asked again is this letter? The young man is facing repeatedly that a letter within his nodding undistroyed. Every inch of that nodding has been carefully examined. And yet the letter has not been found. And why hasn't it been found, gentlemen? I will tell you. It is because that letter does not exist. Lorraine Hamilton never wrote such a letter. She was murdered. Murdered in a fit of jealous rage by this man who expected you to believe of a false story. A false understanding. Yes. I sat there and I felt good, because I saw that young fellow didn't have a chance. My nose was getting closer. Closer to his neck. And then the black cat from the judge's head. For this vicious crime against the court of insecurity of the crown, you, Thomas Allen, are you if I condemned to be hanged by the neck unto a dead man? No, I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it. Then I had him. All he's yelling, all he's screaming, wouldn't do any good. I had him. Already for my new skill tape. I wanted to go up and thank the judges, gave me business, hanging business, devil's business. Why don't they hurry up and get here? I wouldn't have to think anymore. I'm not going to do it. I wouldn't have to think fingers, squeeze the trigger, finish peace. I wouldn't have to think what happened then, what happened after they said the boy was guilty. They put him in a cell. Death cell, the door shut tight. And I stood and watched. They put him in a cell. Five golden guineas in a cell. A few more weeks and he'd be mine to teach that dancing lesson on the thin air. I'd counted every day in the lead, give him to me. I picked along the court and watching his cell. The warden of the prison said, well, Sam, it certainly looks as if you're going to have another customer. I suppose you heard about it. The king refused young Allen's last appeal. He hangs in two more days. We'll try to make his going as easy as we can. I like the lead. Too bad about that letter. He says the girl wrote him. Well, who are you talking about it? We've got to do our duty. Oh, by the way, you're going past the cell? Yeah. Here's some books of his. His land made his sitting. But he might like to read them while he had the time. Take them with you, Sam, and give them to him. It'll be his last time. So I took the books along. Why not? Why not? Reading wouldn't save that neck. I started on the corridors with these books. Down the corridors toward the best cell. Something right fell out of one of his books and I picked it up. It was a letter and it read... Dear Tom, I told you I was going to kill myself and now I'm going to do it. By the time you get this, the police ought to be accusing you of murder, since undoubtedly all those people who heard us caught on the other night will be testifying that you killed me. That's the main reason I'm sending you this letter, so that you will have some proof that the poison they'll find in me was self-administered. Forgive me, I'm just tired of living. And it was her name signed to it hers. That girl's the one they said he'd killed. This was the letter that he'd been yelling about. The letter he wanted to save his neck. But his neck belonged to me already. Five gimmies. I stuck the letter deeper in my pocket and just went until the night. The warden. Well, Sam, it looks as if we're going to have to go through with it. So I want everything done properly and no mistake. Going to have a large visit as a gallery. Very distinguished people. Saying that reminds me, there's been some woman trying to see you all day. Some woman don't know who she is, Sam. She says she's got to see you. When I wasn't seeing any woman not that night, there was my work to do. See that everything was ready. The rope was ready. Everything perfect for a perfect hanging. Through later in the letter. I could hear him in the desk, so pleading with a minute. But you've got to help me, sir. You've got to. You've got to get the king. He's got to believe it. That I didn't kill her. I didn't. Oh, won't anyone believe me. She wrote me a letter. She wrote me a letter in which she said she killed herself. She wrote me a letter. I tell you, she wrote me a letter. I was in my pocket and there it was going to stay until it was all over. He couldn't live. He couldn't live now. I'd waited too long. They'd been such a long time since they'd given me a good strong neck to hang. They couldn't cheat me now. At last it was the hour. They came for a minute's help. They let him down the corridor. Then they were marching up the stairs to the gallows. I was waiting, waiting. The rope was in my hand. The boy looked up at me. He said, "I tell you, I didn't do it." The letter. The letter. Like hood over his head. The letter I didn't kill her. The letter I told you I didn't do it before. He's hot. This man is dead. This man is dead. If I have golden Guinness, the warden said, "Good work, Sam. Rook his neck." I went out into the street. I was walking home. I felt real good. If I have golden Guinness, a woman came up to me and said, "Are you Sam, Joan?" Yes, that's me. What do you want? I haven't got time. I have time to listen to me, hangman. - Who are you? - Look at me. - Yes, Ellen. - What? - No longer, hangman. No mother, either. No mother, either. And you're the thing that's done it. I tried to reach you. I tried to tell you. They said you wouldn't see me. What could I do? What could I do? Did it yours, hangman? - Who are you talking about? - Tonight, Tom Allen. My maiden name was Allen. Don't you understand? You hung Tom Allen. Well, and so I did. What of it? Woman, what of it? Tom Allen, hangman was your son. I'm your son. You hear me, hangman. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. You're son. Hey, I began to run down the street, away from her, running, running. A man stepped out of the shadows. He stopped me hanging. I couldn't see his face. - I killed my brother seven years ago this night. - I said no, no, no. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. I kept on running. A woman stopped him. You hung my father, monster. You hung my father's 11 years ago. - No, no. I said no. Let me go. Let me go. I kept on running. I kept on running. I kept on screaming. I kept on running. I kept on running. I kept on running. I knew I was enjoying them. I looked back. The street was black with hundreds facing. The yelling, screaming, I hung their son's father's brother's brother. The street was black with them. I tell you, and every one of them akin to one of the 777 that I felt and I wrote. Tasting me, chasing me. Hundreds of them yelling, screaming after my life, warning my blood. Hands up, stretch like clothes, protection, cameras. I kept my hands up, running running, nothing that we know. That's the way I did it. That's the way I did it. Slam the door, lost the pack of them. And they're one of them wives and sons and brothers of the 777. But they'll find me. They're searching me out. They're searching me out. Guess they'll find me. That's why my finger's on the pistol. The mob won't get me. No, the mob won't get me. Funny mob they were. The mob bodies just heads, heads of people chasing me and yelling. They won't get me. No, they won't. When they find me here, when they knock on the door, I'll kill myself. They're here outside the door. You won't get me. Not you. Guess I hung your son's husband, killed your friend's lovers. But that's not all. I hung my son. You hear me? I hung my son for five guineas. I hung my son. Come in, all of you, and send me to us. And you mean to say he yelled out for you to come in and then he shot himself? You said it's the gold's truth. I knocked on the door. He yelled, "Come in. Come in. All of you, and send me die." And when I opened his door, Bing, he did it. And what were you banging on his door for this early in the morning? What were you after? After? After? After nothing? I was looking for McDonald's. This next house. I just knocked on the wrong door. McDonald's. (wind howling) [BLANK_AUDIO]