Coming up this week on the old-time radio snack wagon, it's done, I killed as any man would have killed, I run as any man would run, it's done, I killed as any man would have killed, with my embroidery scissors, listen to the old-time radio snack wagon, snack wagon.net or wherever you get your podcast.

Welcome to the great detectives of old-time radio.

From Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham. If you have a comment, email it to me, box 13 at greatdetectives.net. Follow us on Twitter at Radio Detectives and become one of our friends on Facebook.

Our listeners support campaign continues. You can become one of our ongoing Patreon supporters for as little as $2 per month. As a Patreon supporter you get access to a monthly newsletter with news on upcoming plans and projects for each effort as well as a little bit of a personal update each month.

And you also get to pick our summer series for the amazing world of radio. That's over at patreon.greatdetectives.net. But now it's time for Casey Cromptographer, the original aired 8 December the 11th, 1947, and the title is The New Well.

The Anchor Hawking Glass Corporation brings you Crime Photographer.

Say Casey, I bet you photographed a lot of famous people. Well, I'm not so sure, Albert. How come? Well, it's like this. Many a guy who looks like a ball of fire today is nothing but a wet match tomorrow.

Oh, I get it. You've got to wait before your sure a guy is really famous. Right. Sometimes it takes years and years to mature fame. Sure, like the years and years of leadership that have made Anchor Hawking the most famous name in glass.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is Tony Marvin. Every week at this time the Anchor Hawking Glass Corporation of Lancaster, Ohio, and it's more than 10,000 employees bring you another adventure of Casey Crime Photographer.

Ace cameraman who covers the crime news of a great city written by Alonzo Dean Cole, our adventure for tonight. The New Will.

One of the showplaces of our city is the mansion of multi-millionaire Bradford Randall in the richly furnished library of this mansion at eight o'clock in the evening. Randall, his daughter Agatha and the dapper handsome man face each other and this is one time farther that you're not going to have your own way.

I've made up my mind to marry Giuseppe and that is that. Oh, no, Agatha, you only think you're going to make this jiggle or my son-in-law.

Don't call me a jiggle or Mr. Randall. Oh, then what are you? I'm a man of honor who comes to you like a gentleman and ask for your daughter to be my wife. Right. I mean something. How much money have you got Mr. Randall? I'm comfortable. All right, all right, count, but answer my question. Money is not everything. Well, you're not finding a soft spot with me. Father, I won't let you shut up, Agatha.

Now then, you get out of here and over and stay out. If he goes, I go with him. If you do anything foolish, Agatha, you regret it. And so will your boyfriend. And to convince you both that I mean business, I'm going to make out a new wheel tomorrow that will cut off Agatha with the minimum request allowed by law. You know I don't pull off Agatha.

Tomorrow morning, I'll have devins draw up a new wheel and it'll stand until you come to your senses. Come on, just happy. Let's get out of here. Yes, Agatha. You'll be back, my dear, and still single.

Oh, I absolutely hate you. I'll show you, I don't bluff.

Hello, this is Bradford Randall. Call Mr. Devons to the phone, will you?

Oh, hello, Devons. I've got a job for you to do first thing in the morning. No, wait a minute. You better do it tonight.

I want a new wheel drawn up and I want you to bring it here to me within the next couple of hours. Don't argue. Do as I tell you.

That's better. Now get yourself a pencil, Devons, and take notes of what I say.

Well, looks as though you've done a pretty good job with this new wheel on short notice, Devons.

So, I'm leaving practically my entire estate to what is it, the society for the relief and rehabilitation of wall victims and displaced persons?

...