Memory of a Murder

WROW, W. Alden, E. Fair and Cool tonight, gradually diminishing wins, the low 25 to 30, Monday continued fair and mild, high in the low 50, present temperature 45 degrees. And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in...

Spence. In a moment, act one of memory of a murder, starring Philip Sterling as Harry Jonas, and written especially for suspense by John Rovers. This first portion of suspense is brought to you by the makers of Alpine cigarettes.

What's it like to smoke an Alpine? Well, it's like many fresh little things that place you. It's like the stirring of leaves when a breeze comes up. Like a weather vane turning in the summer sky.

The way the air feels in the morning when you open the door to get the paper. That's what it's like to smoke an Alpine. Alpine is nothing at all like the sort of smoking you may be used to.

Alpine is a fresh, freewheeling kind of smoke. A bright, bracing, even invigorating kind of taste. If this sounds good to you, try Alpine, Filter Cigarette. There's something more to smoking with an Alpine. Cigarette! I let my thoughts project once. It was while I was sitting on a bench in Cumberland Park.

I saw a scene suspended in time. I saw it just me and nobody else. Like I was getting a sneak preview of something yet to happen. There may be something that had already happened. An old scene that keeps wandering in space because it never found its place and time. In the scene, this young guy is seen.

The name of the man looking in the face of his murder. It's in Windgate Cemetery. In the scene, I'm hiding behind a tombstone. Watching great digger, working away by lantern light, is a body on the ground. The young man blew in the face with a moon touches his cheeks and buried dead. The digging stops and soon the earth is restored.