Run For Your Life
Starring Ben Gazzara
The Savage Season
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
First broadcast on November 8, 1965
Teleplay by Frank Fenton
Story by John Thomas James (Roy Huggins)
Directed by Richard Benedict
PAUL BRYAN'S JOURNAL
From the diary about this episode:
THESE ENTRIES ALSO CONTAIN THE DAYS COVERING "Someone Who Makes Me Feel Beautiful"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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