Run For Your Life
Starring Ben Gazzara

The Savage Season

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Synopsis:  Judy Collins (Jill Haworth) transports money for mobsters, but when she calls on Paul's assistance after $200,000 disappears, casino owner Angie Zeno (Harold J. Stone) goes after him, causing Paul to try a daring ploy.  With Henry Silva as Carl Torre, Gene Evans as Jim Seaborne, Leslie Perkins as Shirley Bare, Lyle Talbot as Steven Blakely, Quinn O'Hara as Karen, Jack Crowden as the Detective, Bob McCready as the 1st Thug, Vince Barbi as the 2nd Thug, Leslie Summers as the Secretary - CAST PHOTOS AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS PAGE
Episode 8
First broadcast on November 8, 1965
Teleplay by Frank Fenton
Story by John Thomas James (Roy Huggins)
Directed by Richard Benedict

From the diary about this episode:


San Francisco
Wednesday, May 19

Flew home today, and made a date with the stewardess named Judy for tomorrow. Sort of a way of insulating myself against falling apart with Kate.
Rang her several times at home, but no answer. Since I was wavering over making the  call, that was kind of a relief.
My house seemed like it wasn't lived in for years - like someone else's place - not that of the man who'd been arrested for murder, was captured in the New Guinea jungle or drove a Mastin racer.
Then, when I sat down in my favorite chair, all of a sudden it was home again. And inches away from me the drawer containing the gun I held all night less than two months ago.
But when I tried to turn around my thoughts, and think about clearing out the house to put it on sale, I tipped over the edge.

San Francisco
Thursday, May 20

Still no answer at Kate's. Called her parents on the Peninsula, and no answer there either. When I rang the gallery, a woman unknown to me said that Kate was on vacation. But even when I gave my name, she treated me like no more than a customer, a stranger.
Finally reached Kate's friend Louise, and she seemed quite hostile, informing me that Kate was recuperating from an illness, but really thought it was for her family to say any more. After getting almost the same treatment with three other friends, I found myself becoming hot under the collar, but had to remind myself that all these people doubtless had an understandable grievance against me.
Started going systematically through the house, making notes on what I wanted to keep for now, and what could be discarded immediately. Before I knew it, it was time to go to Judy's. She seemed different than on the plane - a little harder, but I accepted her invitation for dinner next Thursday. My last night in town.

San Francisco
Friday, May 21

Went into the office, and got a lot of good-natured ribbing about my jet-set lifestyle. Ben asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Marcella had everything ready for me, and sitting at my old desk for a few minutes with the files, it seemed like I'd never been away. I was even enjoying the sense of sinking my teeth into the work.
As far as the idea I could complete the assignment more quickly than anyone else, that was beyond evident, and I had the material half covered in a few hours, despite my preoccupation with Kate.
Marcella brought in a letter that just arrived from Clarice Newell, post-marked Los Angeles. She wrote that Chief Holland was tried on a manslaughter charge, but acquitted by a unanimous jury.
Edward Loomis has stepped down as president of the mill, and given the job to the Chief, an amazing move that the entire town applauded.  And Clarice herself has landed a job at Universal Studios. Wonder where I'd be today if it wasn't for this very individualistic young lady.


How could I have ever guessed what had happened?
When the Pierces remained unreachable, after lunch I rang Molly at her sorority house. She was as secretive as the others, obviously having a story - telling nothing - ready for me. “What illness? What's wrong with her?” I shouted into the phone, losing control.
Molly is not the cool cucumber Kate's other friends could be, and after only a little badgering,  began crying. She was speaking, but I couldn't understand a word. Then I suddenly comprehended. Kate was in a clinic. She'd had a breakdown.
And here I'd been swanning around the world.
I roared that Molly had to tell me where her sister was, and she resisted completely, then finally broke down and named the place. I don't even know if I thanked her, but hung up and raced for the car.
At the sanatorium the receptionist wouldn't let me past her desk. Then Kate's father just happened to walk in from the garden. He took one look at me, and in his face I saw that he was aware of my fate.
“Does Kate know about me too?” I asked, and he nodded, putting his arm across my shoulders, and leading me outside. He explained that Kate had fallen apart when I left, and was being treated here when Gene Mason told her psychiatrist at the end of April about the diagnosis.
Gerald Pierce set me down on a bench, and walked around the back of the building, then returned and told me that Kate wanted to see me.
She looked up as we approached, and offered her hand. Her eyes looked clear and serene, and they helped me to maintain my own composure. When I got down on the ground beside her, Gerald took her mother by the hand, and they went off some distance from us, Alice Pierce touching my cheek as she walked away.
Kate's first words were, “You found me. I don't think you were supposed to.”
I could only keep saying “Katie, Katie, Katie,” over and over, burying my head in her lap. She stroked my head, and then I felt her tears falling on the back of my neck.
Waves of pain coursed through my soul. This is what I did to the woman I loved so much.
When I finally managed to look into her face again, she said softly,  “I'm glad you're here,” and held my hand as if she'd crush it. She tried to manage a smile, but it crumbled half way through.
This was the destiny I'd been running away from, the confrontation with my own emotions as well as Kate's.
Saying that she wasn't an invalid, she suggested that we could walk a bit, but despite her words, she seemed to need support.
We walked a long while without being able to speak, and then she thanked me for the presents from Bangkok. We finally looked at one another, then embraced, and just held each other for an endless time of endless tears.
Everything I'd been holding back these past weeks was released in this silent and passionate ordeal. This was the awful explosion of heartbreak and despair I'd been trying to spare her - and probably myself too - by leaving without explanation. But now I realized it had been inevitable, and probably necessary, for both of us.

San Francisco
Saturday, May 22

In the afternoon I went to see Kate, and spoke to Dr. Owen before entering the room. He said that my visit yesterday had been traumatizing, but represented a great breakthrough, and was therefore very positive, as Kate  had never been able to shed a single tear previously.  Exactly the same for both of us.
After Kate, the first thing I noticed in her room was the pastel abstract I'd bought her when we became engaged. She did seem a lot better on the outside, but still, neither of us were able to say a word about what had happened, just hold each other in mutual sorrow.
Eventually, we started talking, and she told me that she'd received all my letters - and the Chanel package this very morning, asking me a few questions.
Louise came in then, and was quite shocked to see us holding hands, asking if she should come back later, but I took the moment to get up, and say that I'd be back tomorrow.
A bunch of the partners are taking me out to dinner and drinks tonight, eager to hear about my adventures - but also my plans, so it's as good a time as any to announce that I'd decided to make my departure permanent.

San Francisco
Sunday, May 23

Worked on the files for an hour or two at home, and spent some time filling the packing cartons that arrived yesterday. Tried to rationalize that I'm keeping so much stuff to make it easier to divest myself from everything all at once.
Spent the afternoon with Kate, and told her that I was leaving on Wednesday to test a race car with Pete. This seemed to bring out some genuine interest in her, and I revealed the news about the proposed partnership, but not that I was selling my house and share of the practice to finance it.
We spent most of the time talking about my travels, and did our best to act normal. When she seemed to be tiring, I left, and did some packing before having dinner with Dwight Sinclair. He'd encouraged me since way back when, and been my champion in politics for so long, I dreaded having to find some kind of explanation as to why I'd withdrawn my hat from the ring.
But while concerned about my actions, all his thoughts were centered around his daughter who is living in Las Vegas. A brilliant scholar and talented ballerina, Sara seems to have taken up with people Dwight believes to be unsavory.

San Francisco
Monday, May 24

Received a letter from Eileen in response to the one I sent her via Mike Allen. It was postmarked from Texas, but inside she gave me a post box address in Kansas, of all places, and said that she would try and keep the date we made for Pamplona - if not necessarily in Spain. She seems to be in some kind of therapy, but as in Berlin, her words don't really reveal much.
Then came a phone call from the very Mike Allen himself, saying for the favor of giving me access to Eileen, he wanted me to pick something up from her, and deliver it to someone in Zermatt - any danger, of course, to be absorbed by me.
Went into the office this morning to complete the estate and sign the papers selling my equity in the partnership. Bob Harrison turned to me and admitted that he hadn't expected to hold on to my services much longer, clearly referring to everyone's expectation that I'd run for Attorney General next year.
The firm held a belated going away party for me - low key, but with some very warm-hearted speeches, not least of all from me. Most of them are like my brothers and sisters.

San Francisco,
Tuesday, May 25

Visited Kate in the morning, and she seemed much improved, saying that Dr. Owen indicated she could probably go home in a week or so, and if everything went well, maybe go back to the gallery in July.
We still hadn't said a word about the diagnosis, but as I'd anticipated, her eyes spoke of it constantly.
But strangely, even in her fragile state, I was starting to feel support from Kate's presence, in the way I always used to. I knew now that I wouldn't be able to walk the uncertain road ahead without her being at least spiritually within reach.
We had a picnic on the grass, and I promised to come in before departing for Italy tomorrow.


Whereas chaos had been turned into a semblance of normality with Kate, the opposite happened with Judy. She rang ahead of the date I'd forgotten to cancel, and asked me to come urgently to her apartment.
If I been a little put off by her last week, Judy's revelations completely justified my doubt about her. She told me she'd been couriering large sums of cash to Paris for the mob, and that her last consignment had disappeared before she delivered it to her contact there. She'd already been visited and asked for an explanation.
I could give her only scant advice, but wanted to help her. A mobster showed up while I was there, and as I suggested, she told him that she wanted to talk to the head man about what happened.
Unperturbed, he threatened us both and left. I told Judy she needed to go to the Justice Department, but she begged off on making that move yet, so I got her a room at a hotel for the night, then went home and finished packing for tomorrow, taping up a carton of things for Marcella to send to the Paris apartment, and setting aside the boxes to be moved to Granny's.

San Francisco - Paris
Wednesday, May 26

In the morning, Judy had disappeared from the hotel room I'd gotten for her. Reported this to Jim Seabourne at Justice, but I had bigger things on my mind, and just had to hope she was all right. Now, I had to leave Kate again, and it wasn't easy, despite the understanding we're developing.
Though the hours she and I spent together this week were dominated by what we didn't say, this artificial environment somehow brought us to a place we could have found no other way - even if I'd acted differently in the beginning.
Thought I would curse myself to the end, that I put her through this hell, but she made me realize that it was fate that had dealt the bad hand to both of us with a note she gave me when we parted this afternoon. It said, “when you left, that seemed the worst possible thing I could ever face, but now I know it wasn't.”
“God speed, Paul,” she whispered as we embraced. “I could never bear you having to live through any more of the pain we've shared this week. You need to be somewhere else.”
While my flight from San Francisco two months ago was done in a state of jumbled madness, fear and blind determination, I realized, as soon as I breathed in the foggy air on my return, that all the instincts of self-preservation which initiated it had been valid.
The moment I came back, I started to break down. It wasn't just Kate. It was the sense of loss that everything in the City represented. But what I've experienced in the last seven weeks has reformed my thinking, and I believe that the flood of feelings on coming home and seeing Kate again was really just a delayed reaction of emotions never allowed to be expressed, not really a permanent state.
From now on, think I'll be able to go home again, be with her, and take sustenance from our relationship - even if it may not be a romantic one. In subtle ways, she has indicated that might not be possible any more. I have to accept that.

Thursday, May 27

Pete met me at the airport, and took me out for a spin along the route where we'd be testing the new machine tomorrow. Before he disappeared under the hood with the mechanics, we exchanged folders, mine containing some notes and suggestions about the partnership, his full of maps and charts for the Adriadic Road Race.
After I took a nap at the hotel, we had dinner with some of the other drivers, and I put in an early night.

Trieste - Llubljana
Friday - Monday, May 28 - 31

I remember little of the race testing or its aftermath, only that Pete was very friendly with an Italian woman, so I decided to walk back to the hotel from the nightclub we were in.

Two men jumped me, worked me over, and questioned me incessantly for hours about where Judy had gone and where the $200,000 was. Knowing nothing, all I got was more blows.
Eventually, they dumped me over the Yugoslavian border where some samaritan got me to the hospital. Then I was moved here to Llubljana to be questioned even more by multiple layers of police and government people, rather as an intruder than a victim. Or so it certainly felt.
Finally, after intervention by the US Consul, they seemed to decide I wasn't an international criminal, and have left me alone.  At least the questioning passed the time and kept my mind off the pain a little.

Llubljana - Paris
Tuesday - Thursday, June 1 - 3

I have felt so isolated, as if cut off in some kind of bizarre nightmare, the time moving at the pace of a swimming pool being filled with a teaspoon. The heavy-handed pain killers and tranquillisers have left my mind in a perpetual fog, my dreams lurid and frightening.
If the Consul hadn't assured me that everything was fine, I'd be certain of having been imprisoned - because I've felt well enough to leave for days. But the doctors kept insisting “a little while longer.”
My only salvation - what a friend! - was Sydney Crookshank, a British journalist who was writing an article about the Univerzitetni Klinièni Center Ljubljana, and came to see me every day.
After what seemed like months, I was released, uniformed men escorting me on a train back to Trieste. An official from the US Consulate was there with some books of mug shots from Jim along with my things from the hotel. He put me on a flight to Paris, saying how intensely he'd been bombarded by Pete Gaffney to have me found, then produced the optimistic note Pete had penned days earlier, “welcome back, old buddy.”
Never could I have realized how welcome June's apartment could ever be when I opened the door of my wonderful suite, and felt I was in a place of my own. Rang Pete in Monte Carlo to thank him for all he did, but like everything else, good or bad, he made it seem like a casual thing.
What a different man appears on the race track! Told him that I was going back to San Francisco tomorrow, and he said he might see me there on a flying visit to his Dad.

San Francisco
Friday, June 4

Met at the airport by Jim Seabourne who said he'd take me to the Justice Department to look at more mug shots in the morning. He even got his own doctor to come to my house, and check me over to make sure I was OK.
Felt like a child who'd woken from a bad dream, grateful for a parent's reassurance. Jim had a man put outside the house for protection, and even offered to stay himself. I accepted gratefully. While he left briefly to get an overnight bag, I tried Kate at home, and got a real lift to find her there.
Promised to visit tomorrow and tell her my adventures. Do I start lying to her? Supply a sanitized version? It's amazing how quickly one can acquire a mentality of being institutionalized. I've got to snap out of this in the morning.

San Francisco
Saturday, June 5

Looked at more mug books, and struck gold fairly quickly, finding the man who'd come to Judy's apartment. Jim said he was Carl Torre, a partner in a big Las Vegas casino.
Head man of the operation is mafia boss Angie Zeno, and Jim felt certain that he's the one who had me followed and interrogated. With $200,000 at stake, he's a man with a mission, and I know he will be after me wherever I go. Jim agreed, and said that there was little he could do.
Asked if he might find a chink in Zeno's armor or something else I could use as a prop to get the man off my back, and then went over to Kate's.
Seeing how dreadful I looked, she embraced me warmly, but wincing noticeably from the hug, I knew that it was going to be impossible to hide the truth. Explaining that it was a case of mistaken identity, I told her that I ran afoul of some underworld types in Trieste - all true - and was really OK now.
She gave a wry smile and asked if she was allowed to be sympathetic on this one, and I gave away how sore I still was when I laughed, and told her that I welcomed all sympathy right now.
Asked her to come along on a boat trip to Mexico with Dick and Maria Phillips, and was surprised when she declined instantly. Perhaps in the time that is left to me, we will never become a couple again, but I have to understand all that she has gone through, and how slow her recovery may be.
Molly arrived as I was leaving, and let slip how Armand was at Kate's side within hours of her breakdown, and spends hours on the phone with her every day. She never mentioned this.
Despite my confusion over Kate's seemingly ambivalent attitude, being with her has restored my mental balance, and I feel ready to take the Zeno affair head on. At the Justice Department Jim had a juicy tip. Zeno's girlfriend is cheating on him.

Las Vegas and San Francisco
Sunday, June 6

After making notes for my journal last night, I caught a 9 pm flight to Las Vegas, found Zeno's girl, and got her to let me in by threatening to expose her extra-curricular romance to him. Then I made her ring him to come over.
When he stepped into her place I confronted Zeno and told him to leave me alone. With a mixture of painkillers and footwork, I was able to knock him to the ground, and told him not to dare make another move against me ever again, or I would be coming after him, and his life would be worth nothing.
Maybe it was all those Humphrey Bogart movies I watched, but I was so high on the pills that I must have thought I was the man himself. But before I was able to get out of Vegas Zeno got me picked up by the police, but didn't identify me in the line up.
Whatever mischief he had planned, my Justice Department guard foiled it by spiriting me away to an office in the airport departure area where we waited until he saw Carl Torre board an early morning flight to San Francisco.
I swallowed another painkiller, and got in a seat across the aisle. During the flight I went over to him and said that Zeno should have believed me - and Torre should pass that message on to his boss.
Jim sent a car to meet the plane on the tarmac, and we drove across to another machine which was about to take off for Las Vegas. Staying in an office of the arrivals hall until my guard observed Torre returning, I then put on a bit of a disguise, and rang Zeno.
To make sure that he knew I was in the city, I asked him to ring me back, and when he did, told him that I would get him - in my own time. We then took off for San Francisco in a private plane, and I spent the night in a comfortable room at the Justice Department, catching up on some much-needed sleep.
Worried that I might be involving Kate in something dangerous, or at the least, possibly upsetting, I rang her to put some distance between us for a while. But I was shocked when that appeared to be her own wish.
She told me that things had moved a little fast with us, and she needed some space at the moment. Without putting it into words, she implied that she was stronger now, and didn't want to be more than friends.

Puerto Vallarta
Monday, June 7

Trying to come to terms with what Kate said, her clear implication that I am free to have other relationships. But at the moment, my life is dominated by Angie Zeno.
Advised Jim of my plans, and wearing a disguise, took a private flight to Los Angeles to hook up with Dick at his hotel suite in Hollywood. However, he informed me that they were having big problems with the boat, and wouldn't be able to take off for a couple days.
It all seemed too dodgy for me to hang around, and I made another call to Zeno - making it clear that I was hovering in the Las Vegas shadows, and might strike at any moment. Then I chartered a flight from Burbank, donned my next disguise, and landed myself on the balmy Sea of Cortez.

Journal continues with another episode, Someone Who Makes Me Feel Beautiful, before resuming The Savage Season story.

Journal continued in next column
Ben Gazzara in Run For Your LifeJill Haworth, Ben Gazzara in Run For Your Life
In his statement Paul recounts meeting Judy
Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva  and Lyle Talbot in Run For Your Life
Angie makes a money-laundering deal with a high roller
Jill Haworth, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Torre wants to know where the money went
Jill Haworth, Ben Gazzara in Run For Your Life
Jill and Paul are tense when the doorbell rings
Jill Haworth, Ben Gazzara and Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Torre says he'll be in touch with them both
Ben Gazzara and Gene Evans in Run For Your Life
The next day Jill is missing
Ben Gazzara and Gene Evans in Run For Your Life
Back in San Francisco Paul looks at mug shots
Leslie Perkins in Run For Your Life
Angie's girlfriend appears amused by Paul

Leslie Perkins and Ben Gazzara in Run For Your Life
Paul gets Zeno's girlfriend to bring him over
Harold J. Stone and Ben Gazzara in Run For Your Life
Paul tells Zeno to never go after him again
Ben Gazzara, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Paul advises he'll be met by Justice Dept officials
Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Zeno gets a threatening call from Paul
Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Zeno demands that they find Paul

Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Torre is calm as Zeno rants
Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Zeno says that he trusts Torre like a friend
Harold J. Stone, Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Torre tries to trace Paul's call
Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Torre watches Zeno rant on
Harold J. Stone in Run For Your Life
Zeno is suspicious of Torre's neutral look
Harold J. Stone in Run For Your Life
Angie Zeno killed by a sniper
Ben Gazzara and Quinn O'Hara in Run For Your Life
Paul is at sea when the killing takes place
Ben Gazzara and Gene Evans in Run For Your Life
Jim Seabourne says he knows Paul is innocent


Puerto Vallarta
Tuesday, June 8

With Dick and Maria's arrival still a couple days off, I chartered the boat of a most hospitable man who can't do enough for me. His name is Ramon, and he could get a job cooking at The Ritz, He is quite a character, maybe a professional fortune hunter from what I'm gleaning between the lines.
Now relaxing by writing letters and making notes for my journal after a glorious morning of fishing. Not the usual sense of rushing I'd have on a stolen weekend, but a feeling of total freedom with my body returning to strength. A good sign, I think.
As the boatman doesn't appear to speak English, and my Spanish is only adequate for getting by, I have a beautiful sense of being alone at sea, and thinking clearly for the first time since the precipitous departure from San Francisco two months ago.
Though we avoided the subject of my departure, the time with Kate has a lot to do with this clarity, along with the realization that we may never be lovers again. More and more, I think my decision to leave was the right one - even though it has proved hazardous, to say the least.
But what of the future, and for that matter, the past? When I look back at my life, I wonder if I've spent enough of my time helping others, and if I chose the right career - becoming a lawyer because my father was an attorney. I do love the law, but perhaps I should have been working in another area. What can I do now to make up for that?

Puerto Vallarta
Wednesday - Thursday, June 9 - 10

I am trying to make sense of what has happened. Apparently, I stayed on Ramon's boat Saturday night to get an early start, and then there was the horrific explosion at sea.
My first thought was what a fool I had been to let my guard down, and think I was safe here in Mexico … chartering a boat from a man who didn't communicate? Zeno had found me. And what if I'd brought Kate along?
But Ramon - who I found, speaks perfect English - tells me that he gave me a wrong command when a massive swordfish appeared by the boat.
By following the instruction, it was I who caused the boat to explode, and there we were at sea with one raft, one injured man, and Ramon with the impossible proposition of trying to drag me to shore.
It's all mostly a blur, and I think I was going in and out of consciousness, but remember telling him to swim to shore on his own, which seemed the only possibility of either of us making it. When he refused, I told him that if he continued to try and pull the raft, he might be losing his life to save only a few months of mine.
But that seemed to make him even more determined, and the next thing I remember is the miracle of being on a beach, and people putting me onto a stretcher.
In the morning I woke up in the home of Jessica Braeden, a woman Ramon had told me was a millionairess who'd attempted suicide after a painful and highly publicized divorce.
Could see how flawed judgment might have caused her to marry the wrong man, as her assessment of Ramon was that she found him shy.
That he had designs on her became immediately apparent when he arrived here this morning - the beard shaven off.  He is no longer on vacation from fortune hunting, and I just can't let him take Jessica in.  She is far too vulnerable.
On the other hand, this is the man who saved my life by risking his own, and the fact that he's lost everything is partly my fault.  I know too much about boats to have reacted without thinking, and just got overexcited about the big fish.
He took her dancing tonight, and I was out on the beach testing out my bad leg (read, waiting for them to come home), and witnessed him kissing her. Ramon rightly called me a voyeur, but for the wrong reason.
I'd been muddling around all day, trying to decide how to play this. I owe him my life- and also like him very much, so I told him that I wouldn't do anything to prevent his courting Jessica, or expose him as a giggolo but I was interested in her myself.
That was raindrops on the sea to him, and he told me - in the most friendly way - that I was in over my head. How true, how true, but trying to detract her from his clutches is the only way I can act with fairness to both.

Puerto Vallarta
Friday - Saturday, June 11 - 12

Jessica has been keeping a low profile here, feeling that everyone is observing her, but when we were out today, she spotted a dear friend she'd gone to finishing school in Switzerland with, and told me that her old classmate had also recently been through a messy divorce.
Francesca asked us to join her for lunch, and it turns out that she's now married to an Italian count. When she mentioned living in Trieste, I told her that I'd been racing there recently, and she lit up and said that if I'd still be in Mexico next week, I must participate in a motor race she sponsors every year.
Explained that I didn't have a car available, and Jessica chimed in that there was still an old Mastin road racer at her own home, just north of Acapulco. She was sure, because she had just been reading through her property inventories. That caused a note of gloom, and the Countess interjected and said that I must come to her home for dinner as soon as I arrived for the race - as if it were now all a fait accomplit.
When we got home, Jessica rang the care taker in Acapulco, and asked him to have a mechanic get the Mastin ready for me. But despite the excitement over this possibility of participating in a race without it being organized by Pete, I am feeling even more guilty and confused about Jessica.
Though it's clear that I've fended Ramon off, and she's enjoying the pleasure of his company without losing her heart, Jessica is clearly getting emotionally involved with me, and I have no one to blame but myself if she ends up being hurt after all - and at my hands rather than Ramon's.
Earlier, she asked a frighteningly perceptive question about whether I had lost someone, and I started to wonder if I'm a walking advertisement for the predicament that made me leave San Francisco. If Jessica, who described Ramon as shy, could observe this in me, I need to harden up.
No one said it was an easy situation, and when you plunge yourself head first into a moral dilemma, it's near impossible to do the right thing. For starters, though, I've moved back to the hotel.

Puerto Vallarta
Sunday, June 13

Things started coming to a head today, and I know that, while playing a kind of poker game with Ramon, I'm also playing with Jessica's heart.
We all went out fishing this morning, at first in good spirits, but some barb I made sent Ramon down below in a last-straw kind of huff. To appease him, Jessica followed, and when she returned topside, she was white as a sheet, and looked barely able to hold herself together.
I've intervened too much to take another step in this, and we returned home in virtual silence, Jessica going below for most of the ride back.
Rang Pete at his father's place, and told him about the Acapulco race. He said he'll be flying back to Monaco on Wednesday, and if I joined him, we'd be able to talk about the team.

Puerto Vallarta
Monday, June 14

Ramon shocked me this morning by saying that he was leaving for Europe, but as an act of faith, we've made a pact to go fishing next May 14 in Puerto Zaguaro.


Couldn't reach Jessica all day, but her maid said that I should call over in the evening, and with Dick and Maria having meantime arrived, I went out fishing on their boat.
All seemed right with the world, and then came a radio message that someone in San Francisco was urgently trying to reach me. I asked Maria to check it out, and she came back with the message, “the yellow fish is ready to mount on the wall.”
Angie Zeno was dead. I threw off my shoes and dived into the water.  Dick and Maria obviously thought I was crazy, but I felt reborn. Talked to Jim Seaborne on the phone when we got back, and he said it was best if I returned to San Francisco immediately to record a deposition. I am not a suspect, he assured, but it was better to make things tidy.


Spent the evening with Jessica, and all the strange behavior of herself and Ramon is now explained. She revealed that he told her on the boat yesterday about my prognosis.
Though like a wounded dove, she was stronger than I expected. I knew in my heart that I could be responsible for a second suicide attempt, but she appeared very much in balance, and ready to start her life again, seemingly undamaged despite allowing herself to become attached to someone who could not remain with her.


Puerto Vallarta - San Francisco
Tuesday, June 15

Took an early morning flight back to San Francisco. Jim explained that Zeno had apparently been so rattled by my threats that he'd made a virtual fortress of his home, and refused to leave it despite immense police protection.
Jim's theory was that Torre had taken advantage of the weakness, and had Zeno shot, he being the one who had pocketed the $200,000. I was definitely off the hook.
Recorded my statement, and then Judy Collins walked in, apologizing for any harm she brought to me. I reassured  her that everything was fine, then made a quick exit. Before going home to unwind, went over to Kate's with the inlaid jewelry box I'd bought her in Mexico.
The sense of indifference she radiated chilled me. “You understand,” she said, “I can't go on using our relationship as a crutch in my recovery.” Is that Katie speaking or her doctor? When her goodbye was, “now, go and have some wonderful adventures, romantic and otherwise,” I knew I was being sent away, and have to respect the delicacy of her emotional state.
Pete dispelled a little of my gloom when he came over with a Mastin road racer he'd found somewhere, and gave me some driving lessons. I never thought I'd be able to laugh so much again, but think I know enough now not to wreck Jessica's car.
He said getting thrown in at the deep end like this will give me a good idea of whether we should be thinking of me as a driver as much as team principal or navigator, so I said that since I had no experience at the other two either, why not.
After dinner we headed for the airport, and I was glad of his company to avoid facing up to the realization that Kate and I are separated again.

Next Read:

The Plot:

The episode opens with Paul recording a sworn statement about his involvement in the killing of Angie Zeno.

He says this began when he met air hostess Judy Collins on a flight from Paris to San Francisco, and made a dinner date for the following evening.
That same night Angie Zeno and his junior partner in Las Vegas interests also arrived in San Francisco to meet with high roller Steven Blakely, to offer to sell him  his $84,000 check against gambling losses for $80,000 in cash.  This and other money was then passed on by Carl Torre (known to Paul later as Steve Drake) to Judy for transporting to a contact in Paris,

Judy and Paul make a date to meet again when she returns from another flight to Paris, and he's concluded some left-over legal work for an old client.
But as soon as she's back from Paris, with obvious urgency, Judy tries to reach Paul in advance of their date that evening, and the reason is quickly learned when Carl Torre arrives at her home, wanting to know what happened to the cash she was supposed to deliver in Paris. She says that she hid it in her apartment there, and it was gone when she returned from dinner. Torre suggests that she come up with a better story, and will return at 9 pm.

Judy explains the whole situation to Paul, about delivering money to Paris and how she'd just lost $200,000.
He says that she needs more than just a lawyer or a friend, then leaves the room when Torre arrives.  On Paul's advice, Jill says she wants to speak to the head man, to know his name. Torre scoffs at this, and Paul enters, saying that Jill didn't take the money. Torre is cool about Paul's unexpected presence, and says they might have accepted some reasonable story, but now both of them are in trouble. After he leaves, Paul suggests that Jill has no option but to tell her story to the Justice Department, but she begs for one night to think that over, and Paul says it's better that she pack and spend the night at a hotel.
But the next day, she is gone

When Paul  and his friend from the Justice Department, Jim Seabourne, return to her apartment, it's obvious that Jill came back at some point, and took more items away with her.

Paul says he can stay and wait at the apartment, but then decides to go back to his planned schedule, navigating for Pete Gaffney in his racing car at Trieste. Jim reacts by saying he never understood why Paul gave up a brilliant legal career in mid stream.
Paul goes racing in Italy, and after an evening of revelry, is accosted in the street by two thugs who beat him, and then question him with further blows as to the whereabouts of Judy Collins and the missing money.  Innocent of all knowledge, Paul continues to say he doesn't know, and is hit again and again. After being freed by the thugs, Paul returns with many injuries to San Francisco to consult with Jim Seabourne, and identifies Carl Torre from mug books. Jim says Torre works with Angie Zeno, owner of the Golden Spar, and both agree that Zeno will go after Paul again.
Jim says that as large and powerful as his organization is, he can't do anything about Zeno following Paul around the world, but live with it, and he does every day.

Paul asks if Zeno has a flaw or weakness, and Jim says he's powerful enough to afford flaws, that eventually he'll stop following Paul.

But Paul counters vehemently that he needs Zeno to leave him alone NOW …. or remember him.
On a tip from Jim Paul goes to Las Vegas to see Angie Zeno's girlfriend, and tells her that he knows she's seeing one of Zeno's henchmen  behind Zeno's back.

She lets him in and asks what he wants.  Paul asks her to ring Zeno and get him to come over to her place. She tells Paul he's crazy, but he says that if she doesn't ring Zeno, he will himself - with the information about her infidelity.

She makes the call, and manages to draw Zeno over from a card game.
Paul confronts him immediately, describing his injuries from Trieste, saying he lost six days in a Yugoslav hospital.

Zeno replies casually that Paul should have said where the money was.

Paul adamantly denies any knowledge of the cash. Zeno seems puzzled that the rigged meeting had such a small point, and asks what's the rest of Paul's reason for staging it.

Paul becomes hard and menacing, saying, “don't come near me again! Not with thugs, not with gum shoes or threats.”  Zeno asks measuredly, “and if I do?”
Paul answers, “touch me, reach out for me - even from a distance - and I'll come back into this jungle of yours, and we'll play it your way.  Right where you live.  Just the way you play it.”

Zeno turns to go, and then lashes back at Paul, but in the fight which ensues, ends up the one on the ground.

“Now you know how it feels,” says Paul, and Zeno responds menacingly, “you're a dead man.” Then Paul growls and makes Zeno repeat the words that he is “yellow inside and out.”
As soon as Paul leaves, a livid Zeno gets on the phone, saying that he wants a man of Paul's appearance picked up. In a police line up, Paul is actually the only one who meets the description Zeno gave,  but Zeno says he is not the man who assaulted him, the idea being that the henchmen will work Paul over when the police release him. However, as the result of strategic planning, Paul gives them the slip in Las Vegas. Nevertheless Torre is on the same plane bound for San Francisco when Paul flies back. He expects to follow Paul from the airport and finishe him off.
However, on the plane, Paul seeks out Torre, and tells him that he'll be met by people from the Justice Department on arrival.

Then he adds a message for Zeno, “tell him he should have believed me.”

Zeno is raging that his men lost Paul when Paul rings, and gives him a Las Vegas number to phone.

When he does, Paul answers, and threatens to get Zeno one way or another in his own time.
Zeno becomes genuinely upset, and calls for police to seek Paul out for threatening him, as well as for his men to increase their protection of him.  “He's a fanatic.  You know what that is. A nut with brains,” Zeno shouts.  All the while, Torre remains cool and inscrutable.

Contrary to what he's told Zeno, Paul actually goes fishing off Baja California.

Meanwhile, the Las Vegas police and Zeno's men have combed the town for Paul, and Zeno has become so paranoid that he won't leave his home.
He tells Torre that he has more law around him than he had at Sing Sing prison, but with all the palms he's greased, he has no one.

Then he turns his venom on Torre, pointing out how he failed in catching Paul, and even goes so far as to question whether he had a part in the disappearance of the $200,000 Judy was transporting.

Torre evenly says that's something Zeno needs to decide for himself.

But Zeno then rejects such an idea, even turning somewhat nostalgic about their relationship.
Then he laughs, and says that Paul maybe isn't around at all waiting for him, that he has probably jumped the country.

Both men then laugh maniacally

Over time Zeno becomes more complacent, talking again about how Paul is probably gone.

Then Paul rings again.  Zeno shouts for a trace of the call, and gets friendly with Paul to draw the call out, saying that maybe Judy didn't take the money.  That it was a mistake, and he owed Paul an apology.
But Paul rejects it, and says that he's still waiting for the one good chance to get Zeno, adding, “we're both hiding now. That's easier for me than for you. And I plan to take my time.”

Paul's toying with Zeno is having the desired effect, as the mobster is bedazzled by Paul's motivation, and clearly terrified for his life.

He wonders why the man is doing this to him, and Torre replies, “he thinks it's either him or you.”
Zeno shouts back, “find him and kill him,” then declares, mystified, “I'm being hunted like a dumb animal.”

Torre is supportive, then silent.

“What are you looking at?” Zeno asks.

He is suddenly suspicious, and Torre answers that he's looking at him like he always does.

Then he suggests, if Paul is bugging him so much, Zeno should get out of town.
It sounded reasonable, but Zeno immediately picks up something sinister from the remark.

Zeno snarls, “you said get out of town. Leave Vegas. What is this?”

He says he's been spoken to like a punk, and thinks he's being eased out by being set up for a hit.” When Torre says that he's only trying to help,

Zeno shouts back, “Help who?”Then he questions who Torre has been talking to and what he's been doing.
Ranting, he throws the ever- expressionless Torre  out, yelling that he should tell anyone that Angie is going to stay until he gets the maniac

The die has been cast.

Later on, with his bodyguard patrolling the balcony, Zeno is fixing himself a drink when a rifle shot hits him in the head.

The bodyguard turns and shoots out into the night, but Angie Zeno is the victim of an assassin's bullet.
Paul receives a message while fishing off the coast of Mexico.

He returns to San Francisco to make a statement about the Angie Zeno affair.

Jim Seabourne tells him that the Zenos of this world can only hold on to their power as long as they keep up a front of invincibility.

When they show fear, that's the end; if they crack, they're done for.

Jim says that Torre took advantage of Zeno's vulnerability to kill him and blame it on Paul who'd sworn a threat to get him, something well-known to the police, but that there is no case against Paul.

Jim also tells him that Judy Collins has surfaced, and is coming in to the Justice Department.

She apologizes for everything that happened to him after her asking for help, and Paul says, “nothing was lost - only a little time.”


Slow-starting, but with a dramatic opening sequence as Paul dictates his statement, this episode is all about strength of character - the enormity of Paul's and the shakiness of the mob boss.

We are blown away by the mixture of courage and guile that Paul demonstrates in a convincing portrayal, and equally intrigued by the enigmatic performance of the apparently imperturbable character played flawlessly by Henry Silva, a man ready for every eventuality.

Harold J. Stone, on the other hand, runs the gamut of emotions with the expected skill of a master musician with his instrument.

While it remains implausible that he would be in a physical condition to fight with Zeno, much less tackle sharks after the injuries he suffered from the beating, this minor flaw does not detract from a strong and tightly paced episode, well-directed by Richard Benedict

Next Episode:


Henry Silva in Run For Your Life
Henry Silva
as Carl Torre

Harold J. Stone in Run For Your Life
Harold J. Stone
as Angie Zeno

Gene Evans in Run For Your Life
Gene Evans as
Jim Seaborne

Jill Haworth in Run For Your Life
Jill Haworth as
Judy Collins

Leslie Perkins in Run For Your Life
Leslie Perkins
as Shirley Bare

Lyle Talbot in Run For Your Life
Lyle Talbot as
Steven Blakely

Quinn O'Hara in Run For Your Life
Quinn O'Hara
as Karen

Jack Crowden in Run For Your Life
Jack Crowden as
the Detective

Bob McCready in Run For Your Life
Bob McCready
as the 1st Thug

Vince Barbi in Run For Your Life
Vince Barbi as
the 2nd Thug

Leslie Summers in Run For Your Life
Leslie Summers
as the Secretary


39  Carol

Creative Team
     Jo Swerling Jr.
Associate Producer
     Paul Freeman
     Pete Rugolo
Director of Photography
     John L. Russell A.S.C.
Art Director
     Howard E. Johnson
Film Editor
     Douglas Stewart
Unit Manager
     Willard Sheldon
Assistant Director
     James M. Walters, Jr.
Set Decorators
     John McCartey  &
     Perry Murdoch
     Corson Jowlett
Color  Coordinator
     Robert Brower
Color by Pathe
Editorial Dept. Head
     David J. O'Connell
Musical Supervisor
     Stanley Wilson
Costumes by Burton Miller
     Bud Westmore
Hair Stylist
     Larry Germain