In the early 1950s, Orson Welles hosted and narrated a true crime radio program based on Scotland Yard’s “repository of death”, The Black Museum, a collection of murder weapons and various ordinary objects used in various horrors. This album samples old Orson’s dark tales of gothic violence lurking in the human heart.

All Are Touched by Murder.
This is Orson Welles, speaking from London, from the Black Museum, a repository of death yes, here in the grim stone structure on the Thames which houses Scotland Yard is a warehouse of homicide, here everyday objects, a silk scarf, a length of twine, a child’s toy, all are touched by murder.

A Postwar Disease of Violence.
The use of a gun by an English criminal is rare. Nor in England do the police go armed in their normal course of duty, the Hamilton cause was one of the more obvious symptoms of a postwar decision of violence, for days, weeks, and even months after their execution, pistols, guns, knives and even perhaps innocent wartime souvenirs and those of more dubious origin were found by the police on rubbish heaps, disused gardens, on the mudbanks of the River Thames, the criminal world of London had come to terms with their traditional enemies of Scotland, perhaps after all the innocent man had not died in vain.

Frankly, I Don’t Believe Anyone Gets Away With Murder.
Yes, they let Vivienne Davis go free. In many minds, the question was and still is did Vivienne Davis get away with murder, frankly, I don’t believe anyone gets away with murder, murder stays with a killer twisting mind and heart and soul even in the unsuspected and even unsolved cases, as far as Vivienne Davis was concerned, perhaps the real crime was insecurity and the kind of violent jealousy that grows out of fear, that’s for the psychologist’s to decide, not you and I.

Product of the London Slums.
In due course, Henrietta Crandall paid the usual penalty for premeditated homicide, the purchase of the hammer was sufficient evidence of the intent to kill, as for Jamie Marsdan, the product of the London Slums, of bad company, and evil ways, Jamie went free but not for long.

The Memory of a Mistake Made Through Loneliness.
They put Alma Galpin safely away, where she could harm nor others nor herself, Dick Terry left that pleasant suburb of London and dropped into the anonymity one can only find in a great city, Anne Friskin sold the house and went far from London to star over perhaps, but to carry with always the memory of tragedy, on a hot muggy night, the memory of a mistake made through loneliness.

Some Say He Was Quite Mad.
Eddie Jones in spite of his common name was an uncommon made, some said he was him quite mad, his own defense counsel stated later than when Eddie looked at him with his piercing stare, he felt as if the prisoner was trying to hypnotize him, this of course we will never know, we can only wonder if those poor women were hypnotized by Eddie’s eyes or merely by his charm and personality, in any case, one woman did not succumb to that charm for long, she was Eddie’s real wife, predecessor Evelyn, this woman was swindled by Eddie but found him out, sent him to prison for two years, Eddie swore to kill her, she fled to Canada when Eddie left prison that time, she came back to England and was in the courts, the day Eddie Jones was sentenced to hang.

Sprang the Trap.
The medical examiner swore that a 32 caliber bullet had killed Elizabeth Marlowe, the ballistics expert testifsted that the bullet had come from the gun in the Henry Higley’s possession the day of his arrest at the Bank of England, another expert adjusted the noose and placed the white hood over Higley’s head, heard the man whisper the admission of his guilt and sprang the trap.

Where The Old Man Bought The Silencer.
It’s true of course that in many countries men have loved their land to the point of desperation, Philip Wardman loved his to the point of madness, of murder, the rifle belonged to his grandson, a veteran living far way in Canada, where the old man bought the silencer was never learned, the secret of that went with Philip Wardman went to the place where his bitter lonely life drew to its close.

Until We Meet Again
Now here in person is Orson Welles. Exactly how Daisy Oliver met her death was never brought out, not even at the trial, whether Ron Smith beat her to death or whether she fell to her death, no one knows, but she was murdered and by Ron Smith, there’s no reasonable doubt about that, nor was there any doubt about this man’s character, not only did he write about his concern about her disappearance to Daisy’s mother, not only did he write long enduring love letters to a girl he knew was dead, but from his cell as he awaited trial, he sent a wreath to her funeral, palm leaves and one lily, with the phrase attached, until we meet again.

Not The Operations of a Normal Mind.
Jean Muir was certified insane, her own cunning, her craftiness were not the operations of a normal mind, a complete breakdown was substantiated the testimony of the alienist, she was put away for the rest of her life, so the case was complete, each part of the story fitted together as neat and as well-fitting as that dainty pigskin glove, now until we meet next time and I tell you another story of the Black Museum, I remain as always, obediently yours.