Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

BOY'S CINEMA A fine fast-moving thriller in which Captain Bill Dugan, veteran of the New York Police Force, scorns all modern scientific methods of crime detection till Danny Blake, fresh from a police college, proves their usefulness in tracking down an elusive gang of jewel rob- bers. The film stars Harry Carey as the old Captain and Dick Foran as the young officer BILL DUOAN MAKES A SPEECH JOHN FENTON, Police Commissioner for New York City, walked into his own private office with Captain Bill Dugan, the uniformed officer in charge of the 14th Precinct, who had travelled all the way down-town from the station-house in West Thirtieth Street to be called over the coals. "Two million dollars' worth of uncut gems have been stolen in the last sixty da^'S," said the Commissioner, a tall and distinguished-looking man in the middle sixties, who appeared considerably younger than his years because his brown hair was plentiful and only tinged with grey, and his face was conspicuously free from lines and wrinkles. "Fourteen separate rob- beries, yet not one arrest—and all in your precinct!" Captain Bill Dugan thrust a thumb beneath the shoulder-strap that supported the holster in which his formidable six- gun reposed, and halted beside a massive but very tidy desk. "Not a piece of that jewellery has turned up in the trade from here to 'Frisco," he returned defensively, " and you know I haven't missed a trick in followin' it. Commissioner." "I know. Bill," nodded the Commis- sioner, passing round the desk and sinking into the swivel-chair behind it. "But they don't pay off for trying." "Oh, we'll break this case." " You'll have to break it—or get broken! They'll knock the props from every old- timer on the Force. John Fenton had said the worst that he had to say, and to soften the blow he looked up into the fine old rugged face of the captain with a friendly smile, and motioned to him to sit down. "Aw, what do they expect—miracles?" growled Dugan, depositing himself in an arm-chair. "My precinct's got the best record in town. Wlio cleaned up the ware- house gang? Who cracked down on the bootleg racket? Who ran every racketeer out of tjie district?" ^'oVl■mbcl lltli, 10^9. "You did, Bill," conceded the Commis- sioner, "but these aren't the old hobnail and raw-knuckle days. You're dealing with brains now. Maybe more science and less night-stick " Bill Dugan, a veteran of the Force with twenty-five years' service- and experience —to his credit, had an Irish temper, and he boimded to his feet bristling with scorn. ."Oh, you mean like those college boys, huh?" he interrupted. "Scientific kids that look at a guy's hair and tell you what he had for breakfast!" "They can almost do that, too." "Yeah!" Dugan's grey eyes glinted. " They've got plenty to learn yet, and I'm goin' to tell them that at the Police College this afternoon!" " That ought to be a treat." "Don't worry," said Dugan grimly, "it will be—for me." A few minutes afterwards he emerged from the ten-story building in Centre Street, descended from its terrace to the pavement, and climbed into the official black car which he had left at the kerb. Inside the car was his niece, Kathleen Burke, a beautiful brown-haired girl with very regular features and very dark blue eyes, who was little more than twenty-one. but looked as though she had a will of her own and an intelligence far above the average. She did not utter a word as he started the engine and drove off along the street, but she glanced from time tq time at his sioomy profile, and as the car was passing over Brooklyn Bridge she said rallyingly: "Come on, captain, cheer up! You've been on spots before." "Never one like this." complained Dugan. "What's more, I don't think you'll be callin' mo ' captain' much longer." That last statement startled her, and she stared at him in high concern. "Oh, thev couldn't do a thing like that to vou I" she exclaimed. " Why, you've been on the Force twenty-five years! "Yeah," said Dugan dolefullv. "it's a long time—maybe too long." "Uncle Bill!" she rebuked. "You're a fine policeman—one of the finest in— She broke off to purse her lips, eyeing him in a troubled fashion. "Well, maybe I shouldn't say this, but " " Let me say it for you. My methods are too old-fashioned." "Why, whatever makes you say that?" "Why," he returned bitterly, and with out any justification whatever, "I know that both you and the Commissioner would like to see some college kid put me on the side-lines." " Oh, there isn't a rookie down there "■ she pointed in the general direction of the Police College to which they were ti'avel ling—"or anywhere else, who'll ever mak< a recoi'd like ' Strong-Arm ' Dugan!" " Thanks. Kathleen!" he murmured. The New York Police College is n: Poplar Street, Bi'ooklyn, and within hall an hour of leaving the Commissioner'! office. Captain Bill Dugan was standing or a platform in its lecture hall, and his niec< was sitting on a bentwood chair as a mem ber of his audience. Curtains covered the back of the plat form, and against the curtains on Dugan's right two heads of the college were seated one of them a lieutenant. Some fifty futun policemen occupied the rows of chairs oi one side of a central gangway, and mos of the seats on the other side were occu pied by females who were either relative or friends of the students. On Kathleen'i left there was a vacant chair between he and the gangwav, intended for her unci when he had finished "telling the colleg kids." With his feet planted well apart and hi hands clasped behind his back, Duga: began to speak. "Now I'm an old-fashioned copper," h| said bluntly and without any preambr " And I don't know much about your fani theories, but I do know this—that an o] time copper had only two important tO( to work with: information and a solid pal of shoes." Most of the students grinned, some them laughed outright.