024- Papa Benjamin -national broadcast- -2

You are groping down a dark alleyway in the French Quarter of New Orleans, driven by terror, hounded by the curse of the papaloy, a curse from which there is no escape. Escape, produced and directed by William N. Robson, and carefully contrived to free you from the four walls of today, for a half hour of high adventure.

Tonight we escape into two worlds, one of modern jazz, the other of primitive voodoo, to a doomed man who brought them together. As William Irish imagined it in his eerie story, Papa Benjamin. Hollis, please depart in 4th Precinct Sergeant Tala, we'll speak. Now, yeah? We'll pick

him up on a drunk 723, right? Yes, sir. What can I do for you? Are you in charge here? Yeah. Hey, aren't you Eddie Bloch, the band leader? That's right. Hey, Joel, look what's here, Eddie Block.

Well, never thought we'd get a visit from a big celebrity like you, Mr. Block. In at four o'clock in the morning, I suppose, though, this is just a shank of the evening for a big shot orchestra leader.

Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Block? I just killed a man. You're kidding. I tell you, I've just killed a man. I guess you've been working too hard, Mr. Block. You're imagining things.

Here's the gun look at it. And sit down, Mr. Blige. Better have a drink of water. You'll feel better. Oh, no. I'm all right. Saw it? Yeah. This gun's been used to all right. Smell.

Was it an accident, Mr. Blige? No. Or who'd you use it on? Who was it? I don't know his name. They call him Papa Benjamin. Sounds like a white man. No, he was an Negro.