Strange Wills: The Mad Concerto

Strange Wills. Stories of Strange Wills made by Strange People, starring the distinguished Hollywood actor Warren William, and featuring Lorraine Tuttle and Howard Culver, with the original music of Del Castillo. I devise and bequeathed to my heirs the seven deadly sins.

Pride, envy, hate, jealousy, anger, despair, and greed. And here is Warren William. These are the stories of strange wills made by strange people. Men and women who defy and defile every moral law of respectability and decency to satisfy a mad desire.

fire, to write an imaginary wrong that burns like a raging fire in their shriveled souls. Strange wills are stories based upon actual wills gathered from courts all over the world. Names, places, and time have been changed so that no reflection can fall on any person or persons living or dead.

Only the sin remains. Deadly sins that cry out from the depths of the grave for vengeance. You presently see what I mean, but first a word from your announcer. And now back to Warren William as John Francis O'Connell in the Mad Concerto.

This is the story of a woman who voluntarily became a prisoner of love because of greed. It's not a nice story, quite the contrary. Mad Concerto is the story of a beautiful woman who gave up every feminine and human desire for the power that goes with dollars. 10 million of them. It happened a short

while after I'd begun the practice of law in an Eastern city on the Atlantic seaboard. I remember I was standing near the window of my office looking out over the myriad of skyscrapers. Oh how I craved excitement. How I prayed for one case to pull me away from the small inconsequential work that is a young lawyer's

lot. Perhaps I prayed too hard because... Mr O'Connell speaking? Mr. O'Connell, you don't know me personally. But many years ago, I retained your father as my little that I will find you just as sincere and trustworthy.

Well, thank you, sir. Don't thank me. I haven't done anything for you yet. Yes, sir. Have you a pencil handy? Yes, sir. Mr. Then take this address down. 127 Kingsbury Road. Have you got it?

Yes, sir. I have it. 127 Kingsbury Road. I want you here at 10 o'clock tonight. Come prepare to draw up a last wheel in Testament. My last wheel in Testament. I expect you to live up to every vow of privacy between client and lawyer.

Oh, of course, sir. That goes without saying. Good. My matter is urgent and, well, let's say, unusual. My name, Mr. O'Connell, is Walker. J.C. Walker. Good day, sir. Had I heard correctly? Walker? J.C. Walker? No, it couldn't be true.

Why, J.C. Walker was one of the richest financiers in America. Retired, he'd lived abroad and had recently come home. Why, my prayer was answered. I was excited. I tried to go back to the ordinary office routine, but the clock on the wall stood still.

I'll never forget how long that day lasted. At exactly seven o'clock I got into my car and began the long 60-mile trip to the country estate of my client. I was tingling with anticipation. Hey, you can't drive in there, mister. Pray with property.

I'm looking for one 27 Kingsbury Road. Mr. Walker's resident. What's your name? Oh, Colonel John Francis O'Connell attorney at law Thank you, I Drove up the long driveway and stop at the Walker mention entrance come in please mr. O'Connell mr O'Connell mr. Walker is waiting for you. He's in his study on the second floor. Thank you very much

as I entered the door I Stopped It was like a beautiful dream come true. I mean her of course. She was sitting at a concert grand piano completely engrossed in her music She was exquisite something out of a picture book She had a wild barberous look and her blonde hair seemed to keep tempo with the strange savage music

She was playing as I passed her she cleansed up for just a freaking moment And I saw she had brown eyes Eyes that seemed to probe deeply into my soul She held me with a long and tense look and then I lowered my eyes and followed the servant up the stairs.

Who was this strange creature, this most beautiful, most sensuous of women? Even the scent of her exotic perfume reached out like tentacles of doom had encircled me. Unfortunately, I was to learn later. Sit down over here by my desk and go to work.

Thank you, sir. I feel very honored. Don't be. Don't be. You may yet rule the day I called you. Drink? Yes, thank you. Here's to a momentous night. And to your health, Mr. Walker. You gave me a hello toast, Mr. O'Connell, because my doctor has given me just two weeks to settle my affairs and die.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not unhappy about it. I've made millions. Had everything. It's time to let someone else have a chance. Now, here are the bequests I've made. They're all down here on a slip of paper.

All but one. And that's what I want to talk to you about. Mr. O'Connell, you saw Nadia playing the piano as you entered, didn't you? Oh, yes, sir. I did. I think she is very unusual. Very lovely.

Mr. O'Connell, you're out here to draw Will. Yes, sir. O'Connell, I love Nadia. I love her because she is a genius. I recognized her unusual talent from the first day I met her in Vienna almost nine years ago.

I'd read that Nadia Winter was making her debut at the Vellumstrasse Theatre and I attended him. Yes, and stayed to worship at the throne of genius. Never in my life had I seen such techniques, such warmth and feeling.

I remember as she was ending her final number. I left the theatre before she had taken her final bow and took the liberty of going backstage to make her acquaintance. Yes?

I card, Miss Winter. I hope you were pardonous intrusion, but as a sincere lover of music I could not refrain I'm very thankful for your interest, Mr. Walker. Won't you sit down, please? Yes, thank you. I won't detain you for more than a moment.

Perhaps you'll be made happy with what I have to tell you. What? It's simply this. I'm old, retired, rich, and frank. And you're my dad. Interesting tool, Mr. Walker. Me, that is it, Mae. I want to tell you that your work tonight is impressed me tremendously.

So much so that I want to help finance the completion of your musical studies here in Europe. And later I will arrange a series of concerts for you throughout the United States. Oh, Mr. Walker.

Quite frankly, Miss Winter, I consider you a potential genius, and your talent belongs to all of us. Well, thank you very much, Mr. Walker. I am just a bit confused. All this, it's so unexpected.

Of course, I realize only too well that a professional career in music is long, tedious, quite expensive as well. There need not be the slightest objection to my offer, Miss Winter. You may rest assured that your private life will remain your own.

I will consider your offer in the same frankness of which you have given it, Mr. Walker. Please let me think it over for a day or two. I am staying at the terror house. Call me later in the week and you've been very, very kind.

As you can surmise, Nadia finally accepted my offer. I engaged the finest teachers for her both here and abroad. Through the years I think she grew to love me. Oh, not me personally perhaps, but rather that innate sense of security that clings to wealth.

Yes, Mr. O'Connell, this is a strange love that has borne strange fruit. I intend to perpetuate it. I want to die knowing that she will never love another man. That her every living breath will be devoted to her music and to my memory.

Forgive me, Mr. Walker. I wish to withdraw from the case. Some other attorney... Nonsense, O'Connell. You're just infatuated with Nadja. All men are. It will pass. Naja will see to that. Naja has one weakness.

She loves power, needs it in order to successfully concentrate on her career. I honestly think she would sell her soul for power in order to accomplish her goal. This is my only chance to hold her, and I'm going to do just that, even though it's from my grave.

The last request in my will, Mr O'Connell, is one to you, for ten million dollars. $10 million to be held in trust by you for the use and benefit of Nadia Winter. She is to receive the entire income for the rest of her life, so long as she lives here in this house alone and never marries.

But Mr. Walker, you can't be serious. On the contrary, I was never more serious. This girl has one of two choices. To live in luxury the rest of her life, enough to satisfy her every whim and aspiration, or to fall in love and lose her genius.

but she will ultimately do rests in the lap of the guards, and in the green-eyed monster of greed." The will of James Carlson Walker was duly signed and executed three days later, and none too soon for true to the doctor's prediction, J.C. Walker did not live beyond the following week.

Notch a knew nothing of the trust, so I was instructed by the testator to advise her of the fact the day after the funeral. As I was admitted into the Walker residence, Notch a winter was again at the piano, and Her music more emotional, more savage than ever.

She didn't hear me enter, and I stood quieter in the darkened shadows of the room. As the music swelled to a crescendo. Oh. I beg your pardon, Miss Winter. I am Mr. O'Connell, John Francis O'Connell attorney at law.

Mr. Walker asked me to come here and discuss certain business matters with you. Please sit down, Mr. O'Connell. And pardon me for not hearing you, Enter. I was lost in, shall we say, a musical thought.

Thank you, Miss Winter. Please don't be so former, Mr. O'Connell. Call me, Nacha. What would make me happy to? Mr. Walker told me just before he died that you would come to see me. Nacha, Mr. Walker has been exceedingly generous with you in a queer sort of way.

I don't understand. He was always most kind and considerate. I don't know if his bequest to you was either kind or considerate. but he was determined that it should be final and absolute. He was always unusual, Mr. O'Connell.

That is what made me love him, I never knew what to expect next. No, Jerm. I am trusty over a fund of a considerable amount of money. Ten million dollars, to be exact. You want to receive the entire income from this trust, as long as you...

Well... Oh, come John, it can't be as bad as that. As long as you live in this house, alone, and never marry. As long as I live here in this house, alone, and never marry.

Yes, Nodra. But if you prefer to leave or marry, the money is to go to certain charities. I don't know what to say. Or to. He has made me a prisoner. A prisoner of love.

And ten million dollars to form the bars of my case. But I want money. I want power more than anything the world or life can offer. And ten million dollars will get it for me. I'll stay Mr. O'Connell. Yes, yes, I'll stay. And I'll get everything I want from life. Everything. You wait and see.

two of Strange Will's follows in just a moment. And now back to Mad Concerto and Warren William.

For the first few months I saw Nadia regularly. She seemed gay and carefree and her music was light and restful. Then quite suddenly I noticed a change. The transition was abrupt. There was a distinct violence in her mood as if a storm was brewing.

I decided to have a serious talk with her for more than one. Oh, John, I don't know what I'd have done without you these last two years. But why must it be for only two years, Nadra?

Because that's the way I've taught myself to live. Never to look beyond the horizon. And especially where you are concerned, Mr. Councillor. Nadra, I came over this afternoon to have a serious talk with you.

Well, darling, haven't you always found me to be a good listener? Yes, that's the trouble. You listen very dutifully and very beautifully to. But somehow I never win my point before this lovely court of law.

You simply won't conform to my pattern of reasoning, will you, John? No, because it's for lacious, Nadra. Now listen to me for a moment. For two years you've been working over eight hours a day on nothing but music.

You've become a machine. Oh, why won't you... Give up my inheritance and marry you! You've said it a thousand times before, haven't you, John? Yes, I've said it a thousand times, but only because I love you, Nadra.

I've loved you from the very first day I entered this house. I can't believe that your career is more important than a happy marriage, especially when you are forced to live alone, alone like a prisoner in this house.

I do it from preference only, John. You see, I don't think you understand my temperament. I am an artist. My whole life has been devoted to one principle, to force wear the world for music.

Don't think I'm the first to do this. All the famous composers of sacrifice in one way or another, that devotion to create. I am no different. I eat, sleep, and love to be sure. But never for a moment do I forget why I am here. My music will one day be my monument. Your love

for me, my affection for you, must remain secondary and without hope or fulfillment. But can't you see you've been changing, Nadja, and not for the better? Oh, John, don't you realize the hopelessness of God?

You're smiling, you're young and beautiful. Your money's a curse that's not only permeated your body, but is affecting your soul. I beg you, let me turn it over to charity. Marry me now, Nodger, before it's too late.

Keep your career. I'll do everything in my power to help you reach your goal. Oh, for the love I bear you, Nodger. Now, today, let's end this nightmare of horror. Stop, stop, I'll not listen to another word.

John, I have never really loved a human being. not the capabilities. I love only attributes in others. I love James Walker because he represents power, which to me is the greatest thing in life. And you too, John, I have love for your kindness, your understanding. Sometimes I wish that but it's useless to discuss it further. You are a lawyer retained by my benefactor to

carry out the provisions of a trust. I cannot, I will not ask for counsel or advice. My life is mine to do with as I choose. Hereafter you will mail my check and I asked you not to come back until I sinned for you. I see. I see I'm too late. Goodbye Mr. O'Connell.

Goodbye, Nadja. The savage way she turned to the piano horrified me. I left with a heavy heart. Yes, Nadja was losing her battle. Her power had been purchased at the price of freedom and sanity. I rode back to town deeply depressed. I saw no more of Naja for many years. Eighteen to be exact. Her check was mailed regularly and I'd

heard rumors to the effect that she'd entirely withdrawn into herself and permitted no one to enter her home. Even tradesmen were required to leave their wares on the steps. Then, early one winter morning, it must have been round two o'clock. Hey? Oh, hello? Mr. O'Connell. Mr. O'Connell, this is not your not your winter.

Do you remember me? Oh, not your. You haven't once been out of my thoughts these many years. Come out right away, Mr. O'Connell. I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you and I want you to come alone. And please hurry. Please I'm Mr. O'Connell. I'll be out there as fast as my car can get me there. In 20

I'd left the city behind me and was making 60 over ice and snow that begged for caution. In memory, I was reliving the years. The last time I'd seen Nada, she was young and breathtaking.

But greed had been her bed fellow and power her counselor. I wanted to see Nada again more than anything on Earth. I left my car at the gate and trudged through the snow drifts to the house.

As I approached the once beautiful and ornate mansion, I could hardly believe my eyes. The front porch had crumbled, even the steps had rotted away, leaving gaping holes in the foundation. The windows were broken, and the holes stuffed with paper.

I climbed up and pushed against the door. It responded grudgingly to my touch. Nudger was at the piano just where she'd been the last time I'd seen her. An old frayed dressing gown partially covered her gaunt thin body.

Her blonde hair, now streaked with silver, ran riot over her shoulders looking like a thousand coiled serpents. Suddenly she turned and looked up at me and then... I saw her eyes. Their soft brown luminousness had turned to stark, cold madness.

She held me in her stare much like a cobra holds its prey. The blood left my face. I was terrified by what I saw. Sit down, Mr. O'Connell. Things have changed a bit since you were her last.

Heaven's the... Not sure. I'll call a doctor. You need help. Medical and spiritual help. No, Mr. Dokanal. I don't need help. I've sent for you for a very special reason. As you know, years ago, I gave up the world in its pleasures.

For money. And for power. I wanted money because it gave me a chance to create. I wanted power because it would make the world listen to my music. All these years I've created. My music lies here in these boxes.

It will live after me because you are going to publish it. Tonight, the night I am giving my last concert. It is my greatest creation of all. I call it, whom shuttle finale, and you, Mr. Hokan, shall be the first to hear.

First, to hear. The music started out softly, pendole. It sounded like the sparkling water of a murmuring brook is a dance lightly along on its way through forest and Glen. I imagined it to be the early childhood life of Nadra.

When youth was gay and filled with a laughter of crowded childhood. But in the next movement I noticed a perceptible change. There were flashes of uncontrolled emotion breaking through to disrupt the calm tranquility of the freedom.

The tempo increased, the chords became discordant. It sounded like the cry of a distressed soul crying out for deliverance. Nadra was looking straight ahead, looking into the darkness and the gloomy shadows of the robe.

But I knew she was looking far beyond. She was reliving her life. And the poignant sorrows interspersed with happier moments had all been interwoven into this. The bitter end of her musical career. Now she'd entered into the final tragedy of her life.

The wild note shrieked into the room and blended with the moaning of the winter wind. I shuttered. Never had I heard music made like this before. To me it seemed as if all the diabolical imps from Hades were striking the keys through her fingers.

of her fingers, it was the discordant lamentation of the band. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead in spite of the cold within the room. I must help Nodja and save her music at any cost.

Quickly I formulated the plan. While Nodja was lost in her mad robbery, I'd slip out and phone for medical assistance. I hoped she'd keep playing until I could return. I arose quietly and slipped out of the door and ran down the long snow-covered path to my car.

I could still hear Nudge's music as it swept along in its mad theme of abject misery and despair. Just as I was about to enter my car, I heard a dull rumble come from the direction of the house.

I looked up. Great soaring fingers of flame were shooting heavenward. The house was on fire! Even as I hurried back I knew I was to sleep. Like something out of darkness and fernough. This house would be coming the funeral fire of Nudge and our music.

To the practically the flames I still heard the piano, Nudger was ending her mad concerto. Then, by suddenly the whole house collapsed like a concerto! And so ended the mad concerto, a girl genius, the lust for power, and the green-eyed monster of greed.

But the sin did not die with Nudger winter. It lives on in the hearts of men and women, secret and unconquered. Warren William will be back in just a moment to tell you what the official records say about the probate cause of the Mad Concerto.

But first, a message from our sponsor. Here again is Warren William.

And the fire? The records simply say, fire of unknown origin. Was it accidental? Could it have been a human sacrifice at the pagan altar of greed? Who knows? For greed is the cause of endless suffering.

What would have happened to Nadja Winter? I wonder if she'd been able to live a normal, carefree life and still retain her genius? Perhaps the two are incompatible? I don't know. Do you? Next week I'm going to tell you the story behind one of the strangest wills ever written.

They're all familiar with the splendid results of modern psychiatry, but when you mix a mad, covetous psychiatrist, together with a lovely, beautiful woman who has a husband, well, you've got a situation. We call this unusual story, alias Dr. Sringale.

This is Warren William inviting you to listen again next week. Bose is written by Ken Crepene and directed by Albert O'Rick. This is a tell-aways feature produced in Hollywood.