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Prologue · Chicago

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Prologue of Chicago by Maureene Watkins. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox
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recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
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visit LibriVox dot org. Characters Roxyheart, the Prettiest woman ever charged with murder
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in Chicago read by Jen Broda, amos Hart Her Meal Ticket husband read by
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Rick Cordre Billy Flynn, her attorney, Best in the City next to Halliday
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read by Todd mad Miss Harrison Assistant State's Attorney read Bobby's Wax Candle Charles E.
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Murdoch police Sergeant read by James Hedrick Jake Reporter On the Morning Gazette read
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by Thomas Peter Babe photographer On the Morning Gazette read by Red Run. Mary
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Sunshine read by Maggie Hires, Missus Morton, matron at Cook County Jail read
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by Anna Maria. Inmates of Murderous row Velma Stylish Divorcee read by Kat Sadler.
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Liz God's Messenger read by Karma Ummings, Moonshine Maggie read by Tricia g.
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Go to Hell. Kitty the Tiger Girl read by Val Roath, Machine
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Gun, Rosie the Cicero Kid read by Tricia g Judge read by Laurie Wilson.
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Bailiff read by James Hedrick. Clerk read by Elsie Selwyn. First photographer
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read by Chuck Williamson, The second photographer read by Karma Emmings. Third photographer
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read by Brian Fullan. Stage directions read by Wendy's Hiller. Prolog Friday Night,
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Bedroom of amos Hart, Act one, Sunday afternoon, two days later.
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Woman's Ward of the Cook County Jail. Act two, noon, one
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month later, same as Act one, Act three, Scene one morning,
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seven weeks later. Prisoner's Room, Scene two later, same day. Judge
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Canton's Court, Chicago Present Day, Prolog six fifty eight pm April. The
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third scene, Bedroom of amos Hart and others. A corner room, first
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floor in one of those cheap modern flats on Chicago's South Side. There's an
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entrance with fountain and flowers, but pine and beaver board with d mission finish
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to the heavily pretentious woodwork, solid doors, beams and molding, furniture red
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and glistening like a courtesan's polished nails, flowered paper, gaudy rugs on the
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wide board floor, everything new and tawdry, everything cheap and shiny. Two
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windows center rear look out on the court. A door left opens into an
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adjoining room, and another right into a narrow hall with a living room straight
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ahead and outside door unseen. Another door left opens into a small closet filled
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ninety eight percent with feminine garments. Two pairs of trousers and a coat are
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accorded one hook. In the corner between the two windows, with footboard.
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To the front is a large brass bed with cover thrown back in confusion and
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pillows tossed together. At its head is a night table with telephone, a
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stoutish bottle and a couple of glasses empty but not unsoiled, an ash tray
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and a box of cigarettes. At the right is a large vanity dresser equipped
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with all the known weapons of a fence and instruments of preservation. Bottles and
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atomizers, jars of cream, powder, rouge, perfumes, especially perfumes that
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fill the air with their heavy, cloying odors. Silver embossed brushes and comb
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filled with hair, manicure, set of imitation ivory, eyebrow pencils and lipstick,
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and over it all a heavy film of pinkish powder. Half closed drawers
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reveal shoes, intimate garments, peach and pink crape, dischine with deep valleys,
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soiled hose, hats, and gloves in endless confusion. To the left
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of the center window, between it and the door to the hall is a
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victrola. There are records on the floor, sorted to the player's choice.
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It is playing now heavy rhythmic jazz, with the sinful insistence of the tom
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tom and the saxophone's wailing plea. The man, a man perhaps of thirty,
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stands in the doorway, pulling on his coat and turned to go.
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The woman, a girl of twenty three or so, stands by the foot
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of the bed, watching him, and she steadies herself with one hand on
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the rail, steadies herself from emotion, perhaps perhaps from the drink that left
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the empty bottle. She is slender, beautifully slender, as you can see
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through the diaphanous, flashy neglige of blue georgette, with its flounts of imitation
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lace and accordion plated ruffles. And the face is beautiful too, with short
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upper lip, pouting mouth tip, tilted nose, wide dark eyes, skin
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of the finest texture and hair, the color of flame. Turned Now in
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profile, there's a hint of a Raphael angel with a touch of Medusa Roxy,
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a shrill, hysterical voice that is vile in anger. You damned tight
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wad. Her voice is lowered with hatred, like hell. You're through.
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One white arm flings around to the dresser. One white hand searches the drawer
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and brings forth the latest necessity of Milady's boudoir, a pearl handled thirty two
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revolver. Her voice stabs with virulent rage, You goddamned blouse. She pulls
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the trigger, then stands fixed. He sways, crumples, falls, a
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soft thuddy fall. Outside the window, children are singing and playing under the
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swaying arc light, but within there is a silence except for the tom tom's
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sensuous beat and the saxophone's last sad wail. From the next room comes the
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cheerful, idiotic call of the cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. It
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is seven o'clock. The curtain falls for an instant to denote the passage of
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three and one half hours, and it rises again on the same room,
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with the dead man removed, the table has been drawn out, and behind
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it sits please, Sergeant Murdoch, a heavy bluff fellow of fifty or so
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with ruddy face and heavy jowls. In the middle of the floor sits Amos,
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an awkward creature of thirty five or six with a low forehead, snub
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nose, and weak chin. He wears a noble, melancholy air and enjoys
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the procedure thoroughly. His clothes bear the odor of the shop, and his
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hands are marked with grease and grime. A newspaper man, a rough and
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ready chap in the middle twenties, with keen eyes and cynical smile, leans
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over the foot of the bed, listening as the sergeant dictates to Amos,
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who writes laboriously. Sergeant dictating voluntarily and of my own free will, freely
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and gladly. Ain't he the cheerful mutterer? Though Amos quickly, I ain't
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murder shooting up burglar. Only last week did jury thanked a man jake scoffing
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burglar. Huh, Amos, excitedly, Well, he was climbing right in
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that dear window. Sergeant, impatiently, come on, sign I ain't signing
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nothing as he says it's a burglar. Say he ain't trying the case.
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Sign Amos signs. Officer takes and reads with satisfaction and mine, you don't
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say we beat you up or showed you the goldfish are nothing when you get
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on the witness stand Amos with injured dignity. I'll not I keep myself up,
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you know, dramatically surrendered myself to the law. Sergeant turns to reporter,
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who has taken the telephone. That wipes that off the books. God,
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how I hate having him hanging over unsolved. How's that for quick work?
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Gazette? He looks at his watch. The call came at nine point
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thirty, and in less than an hour we've made the arrest and got a
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signed confession. Jake at phone, dearborn, oh five hundred, right to
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the sergeant, slick enough? All right at the phone City desk. Put
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that in your story and don't forget who'd done it, Sergeant Charles E.
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Murdoch, And don't forget the e you know me, sergeant with a grunt,
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I know your whole damn tribe. Jake at phone, Hello, Tommy
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is the boss there? Well, give me a rewrite? Man Callahan talking
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in an easy, drawling monotone. Still on the hot case. Yeah,
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corner has just gone with the body. Sure he's dead, all right?
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Casey's the name, c asc l Y down a card in his pocket,
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auto salesman for Waverley eighteen sixty one, South, Michigan. Amos starts up,
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what's that? Didn't show me no card? Shut up, Jake in
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the phone, My check on that. Maybe there's a story there, pretty
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tame here if he's telling the truth. But it sounds kind of fish to
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me. How it works at night? You see mechanic at Philip's Garage sixty
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seven oh one Cottage Grove, Oh, a queer cuss with an andy gumpet
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on abe. Lincoln chases well. He gets home on the Laughter nine,
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finds his wife asleep, gets snack to eat, comes back in to the
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bedroom and finds this guy climbing in the window, grabs his gun and lets
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him have it. Yeap, and they got a confessional right, came right
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across with it. Yoah, either crazy or knows his Chicago Amos complacently.
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I ain't as dumb as I look. Hey, who got a confession?
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Oh yeah, Dickie, get this right now? The call was enced by
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Sargeant Charles E. Murdoch, doc K and policeman what's his name, Sergeant
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the gig outside Patterson Michael Patterson Patterson of the Hyde Park station, who made
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the rest and obtained a sign confession in less than an hour. And Martinez
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Harrison is here from the State's Attorney's office. He's talking to the wife and
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oh baby, she's a red hot mama with an angel face. We'll runner
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in the picture picture. You've got the idea that you better run into a
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stray new til I am more dope, tame, true and cheap anyway you
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take it. Sure, I'll ring her back when baby gets here. Right,
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song hangs up receiver and turns to Murdoch. Hey, big boy,
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the photographer's on his way here any minute now for a couple of flashes.
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We're gonna stick around until he gets here. You newspaper fellas think the whole
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police department is a show run for your better Jake grinning, Well, ain't
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it, No, it ain't. I'm clearing up this here case because it's
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my line of duty. Sure it means you're bread and butter slaps officer's knee,
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but don't forget where the jam comes from. A long time, yell
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one of our men, ain't you? Well, you've got to play ball.
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I am ain't I. What do you want see anyone? Hear from
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the other papers chuckling. They're holding the bag at the station. Assistant State's
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Attorney Harrison comes in from the next room. He is a tall young man
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of the student type, with eager, nervous manner, now almost bursting with
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suppressed excitement, a little near sighted, with tortoise shell glasses, aqualine nose,
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thin lips. Well, well, I've got him for you, mister
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Assistant State's Attorney, and here's your confession, all sewed up, good,
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sergeant cheerfully, not that it amounts to a damn for he'll deny every word
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of it when he comes to trial. Amos with dignity. I won't I
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shot him, and I'm prepared to to wear a hero's medal. Harrison takes
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a seat facing Amos and nods encouragingly. That's the way to talk, now,
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and if you stick to it, I'll help you. Frhy, din't
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you make a clean breast of it? What's the matter trying to shoot holes
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in that confession. It's all there, ain't it in black and white?
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And he tells just how he done it. That clears your books. But
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I want to know the motive. Smiles pleasantly at Amos, for you don't
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look like a man, mister Hart, who showed a fellow being done and
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culled blood. I didn't. I was defending my home, just like I
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told you. Found him clembing in the window at tout a stranger. Amos
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emphatically never saw him before in my life. My god, Harrison, I
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covered all that, Harrison, ignoring sergeant and your wife. Are you willing
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to swear that he was a total stranger to her too? Yes, sir,
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all right? Suppose you add that, dictates and Amos scrawls in the
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stenographer's notebook. To the best of my knowledge, the deceased was also totally
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unknown to my wife, Roxy Heart. Amos signed statement. Say what's the
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big idea? I trust you, mister Hart, but not the attorney you'll
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see tomorrow. He turns to others with satisfaction. They can't spring the unridden
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lawn. Now say there's no unwritten law in this, I'll say there is.
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You've sworn it away, right, Here he opens the door and shoves
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Amos into the charge of the policeman in the next room. Patterson to the
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sergeant stranger, hell, why she's been carried on with that guy for months?
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And admits it? Here he taps paper in his pocket, and the
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nastiest little statements any jury ever read, he calls. At door at left.
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Missus Hart to the sergeant, she's ducking now, all right, goes
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to the room at right with Amos, and Roxy enters, disheveled, excited
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with a look of furtive cunning in her eyes, red from weeping. Where's
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my husband? Sergeant, with a glance at her filmy costume, say,
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you better get into some clothes, sister. What for he promised I'd go
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free? I ain't done nothing, Sergeant shakes his head, shake a legg
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kid clothes. She goes to the closet and begins dressing. No one minds,
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especially Roxy. Well, well, so you've been cheating, ain't you
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ashamed? Now you're sweetie dead and your husband held for murder. So you
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was right here all the time, and what did you do while he filled
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them full of lead? Huh? Roxy, with a little gasp of fear,
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begged him to stop fighting. They was threw myself between them. The
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story picks up fighting, Roxy gaining confidence. Sure jealous. You should have
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seen them mad about me, both of them perfectly mad. Where'd you meet
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him at the office where I work? Sergeant to Jake. See that's what
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happens when a woman leaves the home to rock See what do you do?
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I'm a secretary, So you're a stenographer? Humph looking at statement. How
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long has this been going on? Pause? All right, speak up?
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The first time really was Christmas. That's a nice way for a married woman
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to be carrying on, now, ain't it? Plan? And to run
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off and marry him. Roxy genuinely surprised. Marry him? Hell no,
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just a good time on the side with Goofy in there for a meal ticket?
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Meal ticket? Say he couldn't buy my liquor? Did this guy know
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you was married? Or was you fooling him too? Roxy comes out of
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closet in a poppy colored dress and goes to dresser for makeup. So was
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he a wife and a kid? Door at right opens, Amos flings in,
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wild eyed with Harris and following him. Harrison exultant. All right,
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here we are. We've got it at last, missus Hart. Roxy flings
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herself about what amos in a thick voice. So you've been stringing me?
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Harrison grabs Roxy's arm. Why did you kill him? Roxy gives a frightened
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glance around, considers a dash. It's a lie. I didn't damn you
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let go. She sinks her teeth in his wrist. He flings her off
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with an oath, and she sinks into a chair in hysterical rage. You
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said you'd stick, You said you'd sure if he's a burglar? What you
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lie to me for? Roxy grinds out through her teeth. God, damn
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you? So it was you? Roxy rises hysterical, Yes it was me.
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I shot him, and I'm damn glad I did. I'd do it
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again. Once is enough, deary. Roxy grinds her teeth in rage through
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done with me? I showed him all right. If I don't have him,
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nobody does, crumples sobbing. I'm sure glad I met you tonight,
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sweetheart. Tomorrow you'll sing another tune. Here's my confession. The whole damn
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thing to do over again, shakes Roxy. Here, you get your rags
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together to Harrison, we'll get her at the station. But let's finish him,
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indicating Amos now, he takes Amos to a joining room. Harrison starts
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to follow, but Roxy grasps his arm as he passes her. Roxy chattering,
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oh God, God, don't let him hang me. Don't why I'd
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die? You promised if I signed that. Can't can't we fix this up?
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You and me fix it up? You know, Harrison coldly, with
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virtuous glance toward Jake. You don't frame anything with me. He shakes her
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off and goes into the next room. Jake looks down for a moment at
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Roxy, who has burst into hysterical sobs, then speaks in pretended surprise.
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Well for crown out loud? Did I ever? And what's the matter with
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you? Matter? Half shrieking? Matter? Are you crazy? Starts pacing
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up and down madly. Oh God, God, can't you do something?
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Can't I get away? Can't I? Jake takes her by shoulders and forces
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her back into chair. Keep your clothes on, kid, Roxy weeping.
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They will hang me, I know they will. I killed him? And
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what if you did? Ain't this Chicago and Gallon, old Cook County never
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a woman yet? As a matter of fact, Gold oar statistics. It's
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forty seven to one. You'll go free, Roxy eagerly as she starts packing
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her clothes in a suitcase. Free. How sure why you're not even booked
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yet. But suppose they do and the corner's jury holds you, and you'll
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send to jail, Roxy shrieking jail. Jail, Oh God, say them
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be dous and tears for the jury's sister. But jail's the best beauty treatment
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in town. You take the rescue for a couple of months at the county's
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expense, You lay off men and booze till when you come to trial you
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look like Miss America. And that's when the big show starts with you for
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leading lady. It's one hundred to one. They clear you. That's straight
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goods. But suppose, on our chance does happen, your lawyer will appeal
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in Springfield, gnashing his teeth. Dear old Springfield will reverse the decision like
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that, snaps his fingers. And if they don't, there's always a pardon.
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And you know our governor, God blessing, He tilts his chair back
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and smiles at her. There you are a thousand and one. Want to
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bet Roxy, fearfully, and you'll help me. Sure, I'll phone Billy
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Flynn in the morning. He's his best criminal lawyer in town, next to
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Holliday, specializes in women. Read many calstats, the hammer Mutterers, Marcel
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Wayne who fed a children Arsenick. Oh, yes, I read all about
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them. Oh he's a wonder. I won't make it a real fight.
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Harrison is a NAIs on the prosecutor staff, and believe me, that boy
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won't leave a stone untent to put you back of the bars. He smiles
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in satisfaction. Well, you needn't be so pleased if you really want me
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to go free. Jake stares at her. Want you to go free?
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How'd you get that way? Say? I give my last dollar, all
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three of them, and ever night, when I kneel down by my little
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bit, I'll ask God to put a hamp rope around your nice wide neck.
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She shrinks back, and he goes on in rapture. Oh, baby,
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that will mean headlines six inches high, the story of the year.
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But don't let my prayers were you kid, for God's not on the jury
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and other things like yours. But justice Saint's so blind. In Chicago,
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Roxy pleased. Oh, do you really think I'm well hesitates with coy modesty.
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Sure, I'm calling you the most beautiful murderers murderous of course. What
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do you think I'd say prima donna, but you needn't say it. Well,
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what the hell puts you on? From page impressively? Here? You're
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getting something money camp buy from page advertising. Why a three line wantad would
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cost you to eighty five and you'll get line after line, calling them after
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call them for nothing. Who knows you now? Nobody? This time tomorrow
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your face will be known from coast to coast. Who cares today whether you
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live or die? But tomorrow they'll be crazy to know your breakfast food and
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how did you wrest last night? They'll fight to see you. Come by
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the hundred just for a glimpse of your house. But remember wander stupa,
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Well, we had twenty thousand out of funeral I'm not interested in funerals,
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Jake grinning. Why you may even end in waxworks? Lord girl, you're
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getting free publicity a movie queen would die for. He'll be famous. The
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sergeant and Harrison come to the door. The former motions to Roxy and she
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goes with him to the adjoining room, Harrison enters, Oh baby, we
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in luck though A sweet story, A sweet story. Harrison takes a flask
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from his pocket and pours two drinks. Solemnly. They lift their glasses,
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the glasses of Roxy and the dead man in toast well he is to Roxy,
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Jake grinning hang her. They drink, and he gives Harrison an ecstatic
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shake. Here, I've just been praying for a nice, juicy murder for
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two weeks now. We haven't had nothing but machine guns and hijackers. They
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dump out dresser drawers, searching rapidly for letters, pictures, et cetera.
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And this one's got the makings wine woman, jazz lover. Harrison tosses over
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diary and plenty of dirt edom and blush. Jake flicks through it. Oh
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Roxy, Roxy, no man on her shoes. He must have been number
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four sixty eight. And I can't bring it out in the trial, ain't
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at home and me on a decent paper. God, what a waste.
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But gee, what a chance for you. Just what I need, something
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big, sensational to make me known, And you've got it here. Scott
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will promote you on this, promote me. Hell, it'll mean I can
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get out. For five years, I've slaved like a dog for justice in
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society at three thousand a year. But now I've got my experience, and
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this time next year I'll be raking in the shechos for humanity and mercy.
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That's where the money is. Defense Jake admiringly taking notebook, Why you old
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son of a gun? All right, let's have a quote from the rising
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young Attorney Harrison oratorically kneeling before the debris from Dresser. You may say it's
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a cold blooded, dastardly crime, for which Assistant States Attorney Martinis Harrison will
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ask the death penalty, a hanging case. And I'm ready to go to
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the jury tomorrow. That'd a boy, But Scott won't let you. Not
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with the election this fall April, hm, he'll hold it till September.
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Say if he could get a conviction, an honest to God conviction and a
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woman, why he's sweet the city clean? There's a ring at the door,
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Jake answers, while Harrison replaces Dresser drawers. It's the photographer with his
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flashlight outfit. Another rough and ready young man with ingratiating smile and a steady
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flow of words, Hello, Jake, what's it all about? Jake opens
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door for sergeant and Roxy hot stuff. She kills him rather than lose him.
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Babe backs off and blinks his eyes in exaggerated appreciation of Roxy. Oh
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my, my oi ooy. Ain't she the prize winner? Though in pretended
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severity, Keep them RSVP eyes off me, sister, I'm a married man.
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To Jake, where's the stiff outside? You don't want him? Hurry
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up, boys, we've got to get along right. Oh, this will
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make the home if we hurry. Sets up his camera, takes flashlight,
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powder, et cetera. Any of the other boys been here? Let's see?
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What'll we have? One of you? To Harrison and the girl say
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she's my prisoner. Babe fixes chairs, both of you and her in the
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center. Harrison and the sergeant both try for the chair closest the camera.
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What about the husband? Is there a husband? Sure, let's have the
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husband. Harrison steps to the door to call Amos, and the sergeant slips
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into the preferred chair. Better give me the names, Jake. He jots
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them in a notebook. Harrison returns with Amos. Noh, we don't.
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I'll bust his camera for him. Oh you will, will you? This
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don't go in no papers? Oh it don't, don't it? No it
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don't. I won't let you use my name. This is to be kept
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quiet. Say shut up. The others snap into it now. I gotta
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make a deadline. I won't have my wife dragged into here. You get
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this. We're not dragging your wife. She dragged herself. See you don't
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want publicity, but you're gonna get it anyway. The question is what kind
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do you want? The papers? For you or against you? Well you
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gotta play ball, babe to Roxy. You're willin, ain't you? She
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hesitates, and he looks astounded. Got Mary Pickford's skin the mile and don't
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want her pitcher in the paper? My god, can you beat it?
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You'll be right along with President Coolidge and Harold McCormick. There ain't a society
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dame in town. But what would jump at the chance. He briskly guides
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her to the center chair right here? Now, don't you do it?
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Roxy? Oh shut up, I guess I will if I want to babe
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at camera, that's the time. Never let em boss you and brush your
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hair back. It hides your eyes, and believe me, you don't want
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to hide them eyes, does she? Jake, I really need a Marcel.
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They're wearin em straight. And now, Harrison, you and the lieutenant
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look at her. That's right, and you to Roxy. What's her name?
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Roxy? Look at the camera. He holds the powder high. The
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sergeant sprawls his hands, and Harrison frowns judiciously. A little smile, now,
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Roxy, just a little more, My my, Ain't that perfect?
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Jake? I'll bet she's the girl on the toothpaste ad. Flash bang.
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Roxy gives a little scream. Jake opens the window to let out the smoke,
32:51
and the men reluctantly give up their chairs. All right, let's have
32:54
another her and the husband, not me. I ain't gonna have folks saying
33:00
wanted to think you're a yellow dog and run out on her. Come on
33:05
here now and show the world you're gonna stand by her. It'll help her.
33:08
Wann a babe? Sure when they see a man like him, Amos
33:14
yielding, well up, of course, anything I can do, Babe arranges
33:21
them holding hands stiffly. That's right, you're asking his forgiveness. And you
33:30
to Amos, smile down at her back at the camera. All right,
33:36
let's go flash bang. Roxy goes to the mirror and adds a bit more
33:42
color all around. Now i'd like one with the stiff sey gazette. You've
33:46
got enough. One more, Captain, and I'm through. You're here making
33:52
the arrest. She's kneeling by the body with a punch at Jake. Down
33:58
Fido, play dead. Jake flops on floor as suggested at a boy.
34:06
I'll use that for my lead. Roxy takes position as indicated. What do
34:10
I do? Cry? No, it's a shame to hide that face.
34:16
What about a profile? Great, but only half as good as a front,
34:22
So you'd better look at the camera. That's right, and smile just
34:29
a little more big flash bang. Done, tosses things together and hurls goodbye,
34:38
see you later Jake. Sergeant takes Roxy by the arm and turns to
34:44
Jake. Coming with us. I'll drive over with mart got to phone the
34:49
office. The sergeant and Roxy, followed by Amos, go on out.
34:55
Harrison stares after them. Yead, only I can hang that woman. Well,
35:01
you ain't got the chance of a snowball in now, dumb but beautiful.
35:07
He takes up phone DIARBONO five hundred curtain and of prologue,