Run For Your Life
Starring Ben Gazzara
The Girl Next Door Is A Spy
Synopsis: When Paul spots his childhood sweetheart on the street in Berlin, she seeks his support, but US agents appeal to Paul.s patriotism to find out her secret. With Diana Hyland as Eileen Henderson, Macdonald Carey as Mike Allen, Britt Semand as Anna, Robert Knapp as Riessler, Walter Friedel as the Interrogator, Walter Janovitz as the Chemist, Maya Van Horn as the Drug Store Proprietress - CAST PHOTOS AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE
First broadcast on September 20, 1965
Teleplay by Luther Davis
& John Thomas James (Roy Huggins)
Story by John Thomas James (Roy Huggins)
Directed by Leslie H. Martinson
PAUL BRYAN'S JOURNAL
From the diary about this episode:
Wednesday, May 12
After checking into The Ritz, I went across the street to Chanel, and bought a few little presents for Kate.
Pete swaggered into the Ritz bar with an attaché case, looking like the lawyer he never became as well as the man who picked up a first-place trophy in Sweden the previous weekend, his perpetual grin twice as wide as usual.
Full of jokes, he took out some papers, and said pointedly that, of course, his lawyer would have to look over all this, then handed me the documents setting out the details of a racing partnership. He saw me glance at the top line describing the investment required, and asked if I had that to spend for the first year covered by the agreement. I started mentally subtracting what I thought I needed to live on from my net worth, and nodded - filled simultaneously with a terrible sinking sensation of being wiped out financially along with an exhilarating thrill of being part of something so exciting.
It would mean immediately selling my share in the firm, my San Francisco house, and probably the plane and yacht too.
Pete then handed me another envelope of maps and charts to study, and told me we were going rallying tomorrow, and that I would be his navigator. I told him about June's offer, and he suggested that we go over to her apartment.
He greeted the manager and introduced me, but went in with his own key to show me around. There were several doors off the main room, and he pointed to one, saying that might suit me. It was a complete suite with lots of room to store things, and a separate entrance to the hall of the building. I could see the practicality of it immediately - especially the privacy angle.
We went back down, and the manager gave me a set of keys, and said that they would be glad to keep mail and forward messages for me. I then went back to the Ritz to study the material for tomorrow's race, but kept looking again and again at Pete's team proposal.
Had intended a brief nap, but was still asleep when he rang at 8, saying I should meet him downstairs. Along with his date Sibyline - who handles public relations for a tire company - was her delightful friend Monique who charmed me with her developing English. With the race the next morning, we made it an early night, and I was happy to think that I already had two friends in Paris.
Thursday, May 13
Woke early, and decided to move my things over to MY PARIS APARTMENT. Kept repeating the phrase in my mind, and it gave me a real sense of happiness, entering my own door with my own key.
Went back to the Ritz to wait for Pete who showed up promptly at nine in his rally car. On the way to Rouen, he quizzed me up on the maps and material from yesterday, and offered more instruction about navigating. This race was just for fun, and would be a good opportunity to see how we gelled together in a car.
I'd navigated for Pete years ago, when we were in college, but that bore no resemblance to the way he took curves and manipulated the gear box today. It was terrifying at times, but he kept assuring me that he was taking it easy. The fact that we came in 20th even though he was the best driver there rather proved his statement.
Since we're off to Berlin tomorrow morning to test his car for the AVUS race, we only stayed a while at the post-racing festivities, and drove back around 8, not yet having had a chance to talk about how I performed.
Know that I have to really think long and hard about whether I want to get involved racing inside of the car - or whether I could ever be good enough. Pete said little on the way back, then when he left me off at the apartment, gave that extra-broad grin and told me that I'd actually done brilliantly.
Feeling on top of the world - a little more certain about the racing, and very happy to have a home once more, never having dreamed I could feel so content ever again.
Friday, May 14
We got an early-morning flight, and checked into the Kempinski. This city has the tingle of being an island in a Soviet sea, with a resulting sense of intrigue and danger. But all that went out of my head when we went to the AVUS to have a look at the car Pete will drive here on Sunday.
As I watched him handle the Mastin, I saw what made him such a top racer, and got a kind of cocky sense of pride that he was not just my friend, but also my client - and maybe shortly, his team partner.
After a few circuits, he got out of the car, and asked if I'd like to take a spin. I suggested that one might want a couple months' training, but he gave me a few tips, saying that I'd shown good reflexes with the rally vehicle yesterday, and should be able to handle this machine.
I was hooked for life. Of course, I drove timidly - and badly, barely controlling the car even though I only drove in a straight line most of the way. But still, I felt that with some tutelage along with feeling and understanding for the machine, driving a race car might be something I could aspire to ….. though I noticed my hand visibly shaking when I got out. And I even felt hesitant to do that, my legs like jelly.
Pointing out that my participation in a car like that one would probably never be more than financial, Pete finally asked what my lawyer thought of the business proposal. “He approves,” I told him, and felt like I'd just bought the Brooklyn Bridge.
Stayed on and watched Pete drive, and stood looking over his shoulder in the garage, trying to soak up as much as I could. At lunch Pete spent most of his time writing up notes, then turned to me and asked if I'd be able to join him in Italy on the 12th and 13th for the testing in Trieste he'd mentioned in Monaco.
It is really going to happen!
Knowing he'll be in deep discussion with the team the rest of the day, and not wanting to be in the way any more than I'd already been, I decided to come back to the hotel, and then explore Berlin a little.
And if this hadn't already been one of the red-letter days of my life, there - just walking down the sidewalk - I saw the girl I'd been in love with for 15 years. It was Eileen Hunsley!
But this woman - who was surely Eileen's double - and spoke English too - completely denied knowing me.
Saturday - Sunday, May 15 - 16
Yesterday, I felt sure that driving a Mastin race car was the most incredible thing that could happen to me in Berlin, but the events which have unfolded subsequently have been surreal.
My dear, sweet, darling and ever-beloved Eileen rang late at night, and for some strange reason, seemed uncertain that it was I on the phone. Found out more - but not very much more - about why she was acting so strangely as the night unfolded.
Her husband had died recently, but I couldn't tell whether or not she felt bereaved, the way she spoke about him. I'd met George Henderson briefly about five years ago at a wedding in Almeria, and he'd seemed quite odd - so unsuitable for the fit-for-any-society girl Eileen had always been.
But now she was so changed ….. so haunted and in pain. The closeness I'd always felt to her was somehow magnified into a kindred bond as we both carried an awful burden which we couldn't share.
But when we danced, the clouds of today seemed to disappear, and I was the Stanford undergraduate interrupting my education to fight for my country, so sure I'd be back soon to marry my childhood sweetheart. Maybe her going away to Europe, and virtually disappearing for years was the reason why I never did settle down with anyone else until Kate came along.
Eileen seemed to be genuinely going through some bizarre kind of nightmare, and told me, “the girl next door is a spy,” then denied it, but declared that her husband had been an agent and a killer.
After going to a nightclub she took me to a garden - her secret place - and pointed out swans that lived for a hundred years. Then she fell asleep on my shoulder, and I came as close to wiping away 15 years as a human can get, so many times had we been like that together.
But the illusion dissolved immediately when she woke in the morning, and cut me to the core by her open suspicion that I was taking advantage of our wonderful relationship to use her in some devious manner.
I tried to counter her objections in a kind way, attempting to understand that only a horrific strain could make her believe such a thing. In fact, I almost told her about the prognosis.
We parted then, and after taking a shower at the hotel, I found a guy from the CIA in the living room of my suite. No fancy introductions or apologies, he came right out and asked me to spy on Eileen. Laying on the pressure thick and fast, he even made reference to my illness, probably having searched the hotel room and found a letter from my doctor. I kept refusing, so he took me to a place where people were escaping from East Berlin to virtually say that I was not only a traitor to my country if I didn't help, but to freedom-loving people everywhere.
Since all this guy Mike Allen really wanted to know was why Eileen was in Berlin - or even just whether her husband was really dead or not, I finally agreed to pursue a line of conversation with her. Allen said that unless they knew for sure, they'd have to discard all her husband's information and contacts as corrupted.
Hoping to see her in the evening, I got a wide-eyed reaction from Pete when I told him about being with Eileen the night before, but that was the limit of our contact on race day. Tried to put the sorry mess out of my head, and enjoy the thrilling insider's view of Pete's race, only to see him spin out when holding second place four laps from the finish.
He nodded to me neutrally as he returned to his crew, but was gone before I could get anywhere near him. When I got back to the Kempinski, he'd already checked out.
Eileen met me in the evening, and showed great interest and sympathy in Pete's race, and I was happy to see her spirits lighten a bit. Even did a little conjuring type trick to remove a listening device from our table to reassure her. That seemed to make her more trusting, and then, there was a fight in the restaurant, and Eileen got a drink spilled on her suit. She got up to clean it, but never came back.
I was sure that she'd been kidnapped, but the CIA guy knew nothing about it, and I just had to come back to the Kempinski and wait, trying now to cobble together the events of the past 24 hours.
Berlin - Paris
Monday - Tuesday , May 17 - 18
Eileen's ordeal is over, but it has been a chilling experience.
Out of my mind all day Monday, but she finally rang in the evening, somehow having found out that I knew Mike Allen, blasting out a terrible string of accusations at me, saying that I was disgusting, and the lowest form of life. I felt bad enough cooperating with the CIA, but listening to these words from my dearest Eileen was as horrific as hearing the diagnosis.
Worse, I feared for her life, so got the CIA people to try and find her, and prevent a suicide. Despite all the time and changes in Eileen, I feel that I still know her so well, and was sure that's what she had in mind.
While they were checking the pharmacies where she might get sleeping pills, I went to the swan garden, and found her there. She threatened me with a gun, but I knew, no matter what she believed, Eileen could never harm me, and I went and took it out of her hand.
She said I was the person that struck the final blow that killed her, and that they had removed my soul by getting me to come to Berlin and betray her. I couldn't bear her to think that, and told Eileen how the diagnosis had changed the course of my life, and that my visit to Berlin was only to watch Pete race.
I explained how the CIA saw our accidental meeting on the street … that they put all kinds of pressure on me and that I rejected them again and again, then only agreed to find out if her husband was alive or not. She was sure he was not, but the KGB threatened her life, and to confound Western intelligence agencies, forced her to wait around Berlin to leave everything in doubt.
My poor Eileen was disgusted by what she perceived to be her cowardice and betrayal, but simply couldn't believe that her country could protect her if she went to them. No wonder she was at the end of her rope - and I appeared to be the one who cut it.
What I didn't know was that I'd been followed. Just after Eileen's revelation, Mike Allen slipped out of the bushes, and promised to put her on the first plane home. I can only hope that I really did save her, and as she went away, promised to stay in touch.
My first thought on leaving the park was to get out of Berlin as fast as possible. I've made up my mind to go back to San Francisco for the little estate wrap up. And I have to see the partners in person anyway, to let them know I'm leaving permanently, and selling my share of the firm. But first, to steady myself, I'm going back to my cocoon of an apartment in Paris.
I know now that I have to see Kate. Maybe my own mind is stabilized enough to tell her. But every time I think some breakthrough has been made, I seem to be tumbling down that rabbit hole again.
How that steady hum I knew life to be has altered to an erratic screech by the new course I've chosen. The highs I'd felt only two days ago have been wiped away by Eileen's misery - and now, all I feel is darkness - and a dread of going back to San Francisco.
Tried walking around Paris to clear my mind, but it didn't help.
Notes & Comments:
A plausible story with adequate suspense, but the overly quick ending is a let down with Eileen's docile reaction less than believable. Probably the right one would have been for her to have been shot by Eastern agents, and die in Paul's arms just after her revelations.
Also nearly impossible to believe that anyone outside Paul's doctors would have known about his condition, and inclusion of this information in Mike Allen's dossier was unnecessary in moving the story along. Paul's reluctance to assist him works well, but while his eventual help with “a little thing” (as he later describes his betrayal to Eileen) appears too easily won. Although reluctant, the handshake between them almost felt like a betrayal to the viewers as well.
Though her abduction was violent, the agents threatening Eileen seem a little too mild with her to represent such a diabolical threat, but the torment of her experience is nonetheless understandable.
A little off-putting was the garden set which looked very artificial, and one wonders why the scene couldn't have been shot somewhere more realistic.
Diana Hyland as
as Mike Allen
Walter Friedel as the Interrogator
Maya Van Horn as the Drug Store Proprietress