Bunny Baumler, His Close Brush with Fame (AFRTS)

Good evening. This is Crime Classics. I am Thomas Pylum with another true story of crime. Listen, Officer Rudolf Schmitty Schmit at the scene of a crime in a beer hall in Nuremberg, and tapping a broken beer mug with his polished boot-toe.

And counting. One, two, three, four. Four of them, four corpses, that is. Officer Schmit, the spies, the thing. a thing. A clue. BUN? BUN? Who left a bag of BUN? Officer Schmidt just standing around with a bag of BUN.

I am thinking. What a man who has committed such a crime. A brute. A monster. A muscular scene. Who liked BUN? Tonight, in my report to you on Bunny Baumler, he is both brushed with fame.

Crime classics. A series of true crime stories taken from the records and newspapers of every land from every time. Your host each week, Mr. Thomas Hyland, gonna sort of crime, student of violent and teller of murders.

Now once again, Mr. Thomas Hyland. Lee Shimerhorn was the master singer of Nuremberg in 1820 and held sway for three golden years until he lost his voice in a manner which sent a ripple of laughter across the continent.

Other amusement, near-embared furnished the continent, the clever toys, handsome clocks, and wonderful beer. And not too long ago, the city had become part of Bavaria, and its streets now teamed with terrolian hats, knitted socks, and jerkins, to somehow a kind of golden glow suffused the city, and drifted through its ancient streets, becoming one with the patina laid there by the soft Bavarian music,

A place of gentleness and quiet laughter. Except that number 23, Brutus Trusse. No more than an hour. A hellga. What? A hellga, please. Don't for nothing! Well, this is how... Oh, I should have such a husband as you.