Mr. Moto's Gamble

Synopsis: Bad blood exists between Bill Steele and Frankie Stanton, the leading contenders for the heavyweight title, and a grudge match is scheduled. Steele's knockout victory is tainted by his opponent's untimely death, ostensibly from a concussion caused by hitting the canvas. A post-mortem reveals that poison was somehow introduced into a cut above Stanton's eye although it is unclear how and why. Gambling might seem to be the motive as several of the principle suspects, gamblers Clipper McCoy and Nick Crowder, Stanton's shady manager Jerry Connors, and fight promoter Philip Benton, all seemed to have made wagers on the fight. Benton's spoiled daughter and female reporter Penny Kendall are vying for the affections of Steele, who is now slated to fight for the championship against pugnacious Biff Moran. Lt. Riggs of New York Homicide and Moto, who were spectators at the fight, go on the trail of the murderer following the autopsy results. Moto's prime suspect is a shadowy character named John
Genre: Crime, Drama, Mystery
Director(s): James Tinling
Production: Twentieth Century Fox
 
IMDB:
6.9
APPROVED
Year:
1938
72 min
18 Views


The location of the pistol

indicates it could have fallen

from the hand

of the dead man, but

there is also the possibility that it might

have been placed there by a murderer.

You gentlemen,

as students of criminology

must determine which is correct.

For our next class,

will you please report...

whether these clues indicate...

homicide or suicide?

Class dismissed.

You sure make a swell corpse,

Knockout.

Thanks. I guess

it just comes natural.

Should you find tonight's problem

difficult, will you please remember...

there is no situation that science

and skill cannot master.

Oh, yeah? Suppose you're about to make

an arrest and the suspect pulls a gun on you.

- Yes?

- What good is science and skill then?

Shall we demonstrate?

Take it, please.

Now draw the gun

and threaten me.

- Now?

- Whenever you're ready.

Any other questions, uh, gentlemen?

- That's good enough for me.

Mr. Moto, my watch is gone!

Somebody must have stolen it!

- One of us detectives must be a crook.

- Whoever heard of a crooked cop?

One moment, please.

When did you last notice

your watch, Mr. Lee?

I'm sure I had it

five minutes ago.

Oh, so? And what time

is it now, Mr. Wellington?

Well, uh Seven minutes

to 10:
00, Professor.

Your watch, Mr. Lee.

I'll take care of this guy.

I'm from the pickpocket detail.

- Come on, light fingers.

- Wait, please.

You can undoubtedly explain

your sleight of hand?

I got a terrible failing, Mr. Moto.

I just can't help takin' things

that attract my eye.

- Gee, he's a kleptomaniac!

- Thanks, pal. Thanks.

You must control your, uh, taking ways,

Mr. Wellington...

or your first case as a detective...

will be the arrest of yourself.

That's just the reason I come here

to take this crime course.

You see, whenever I lift somethin',

my conscience smacks me right in the kisser.

And I says to myself, "Knockout,

you gotta take this thing back "

But I can't, because I forgets

where I got it.

But now things

are gonna be different...

because if I study

to be a detective...

I could get clues on myself

and solve my own larceny.

To recognize one's faults requires intelligence.

To admit them requires courage.

Congratulations, Mr. Wellington.

- Thanks. Thanks.

- Class dismissed.

- Oh, Mr Moto.

- Yes, Lee?

I thought you would like to know

I got a letter from Pop yesterday.

- You did?

- Mm-hmm. He sent his best to you.

Thank you.

And how is your honorable father...

enjoying his home life

in beautiful Honolulu?

He seems fine, but he kind

of worries about me.

You see, I'm really supposed to be studying

art here at the university.

But, gosh, I wanna be a detective.

I understand. My parents

wanted me to be an acrobat.

But don't worry, Lee.

I shall write to your father...

and I shall tell him that you

are my most promising student.

Gee, thanks, Mr. Moto.

- Come on, Mahoney. Step on it.

- Okay, Lieutenant.

Here we are, Mr. Moto.

Are you ready?

This is Lee Chan, Lieutenant Riggs.

I invited him

to join us this evening.

Lieutenant Riggs is the head

of the homicide squad.

- Hiya, Lee.

- Glad to meet you, Lieutenant.

I know your old man well.

He's got plenty on the ball. Eh, Moto?

- We are but floundering amateurs in contrast.

- Come on. Let's go.

Gosh, we must be doing 80.

Are we going to a murder?

No, just a simple little case

of assault and battery.

Get a load of these.

Right at the ringside.

Swell.

Hiya! Hiya! Hiya!

Hello, boys.

- Hello, champ.

- Hello, boys. How are ya?

- Clipper McCoy been around?

- He just went in. Ticket, please.

Looks like another sellout, Gabby.

Oughta be with the buildup I gave it. Call me up,

Clipper, when you need a publicity man.

- No, thanks. I don't do much advertising

in my line.

- Hello, boys. How are ya?

- Hello, Biff. Who's gonna win tonight?

Well, I ain't paid

much attention to it.

- As far as I'm concerned, they're both pushovers.

- Mmm.

- Nice, modest boy you got there, Nick.

- He's the champ, ain't he?

What's the smart money

saying tonight, Clipper?

Five-to-four on a decision either way.

Tame going for a long shot player like you.

Maybe not. Ten grand says Stanton

won't come out for the fifth.

- You're drinking too much, Nick.

- I got a hunch. That's all.

Hey, wait a minute.

Gerry Connors is Stanton's manager.

He has been known to listen when somebody

wanted his boy to take a dive.

And miss a shot at the title?

Don't be a sap.

- You wanna cover the 10 grand?

- I'll lay it off, but the best

I can get is 3-to-1. Okay?

- Sure.

- And listen, Nick.

I hope this hunch of yours isn't the kind

you can put a frame around.

Clipper, you'd suspect

your own grandmother.

Yeah, but you're not

my grandmother.

Wanna bet on it?

Somebody's dumpin' a lot of dough on

Stanton kissing the canvas in the fourth.

- These just came over the office Teletype.

- Let me see it.

Ten grand in St. Louis, 20 in Detroit

and 15 in Pittsburgh.

They're sure loaded for bear.

You wait here.

I'm gonna phone.

- Well, if it ain't little Penny.

- Now, now, boys, be respectful to Miss Kendall.

After all, 50 million women read what

she says about the "ducky-wucky" fighters.

Is it true that wrestlers make better husbands

than prizefighters?

Good evening, morons.

You'll all seem in your usual dazed condition.

Gonna write a thrilling rsum of what

the well-dressed fighter will wear?

It's not a bad idea.

Let's see.

Frankie Stanton left the ring tastefully

wearing black under both eyes.

You'd feel pretty bad if Bill Steele

forgot to duck, wouldn't you?

Ah, but you don't have to duck

when you're doing the swinging.

- Well, here's my good-luck Penny. Hiya, baby.

- Is everything all right, Bill?

- Sure. I feel great, honey.

- I used to like the fights until

I fell in love like a sap.

- Now every punch you take hurts me

more than it does you.

- Oooh!

Forget it, honey.

I can take care of Stanton.

I just heard Nick Crowder's bettin' Stanton

won't answer the bell for the fifth round.

- Who told you about that bet?

- Only a dozen guys.

- You and Crowder ain't

teaming up on my boy, are you?

- I don't play that way.

That's why I quit your stable.

Let me see your hands.

Here he comes now.

Give us a statement, Gerry.

- How's Stanton feelin'?

- How's his bad eye?

Stanton's eye's okay.

You can say that my boy expects to win.

And if he loses, we've got no alibis.

The boys are saying

that Nick's betting against me.

- Somebody's ribbing you, kid.

- Yeah? What makes you so sure?

Nick's no sucker. He's not gonna

go against a natural like you.

They're just trying to get your goat. Forget it

and go out and show 'em what you've got.

I'm gonna kill that guy Steele.

But first I'm gonna mess him up...

so that newspaper sweetie

of his won't recognize him.

- That-a-kid.

- I'll flatten that bozo.

- He's out!

- Hello, Mr. Benton.

- Hello, Riggs.

Hey, Benton, who do you like?

Well, I like Stanton. But it would hurt

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Charles Belden

Charles Josiah Belden (November 16, 1887, San Francisco, California – February 1, 1966, St. Petersburg, Florida) was a photographer and rancher who was famous for his visceral photographs of the area around Meetseetse, Wyoming. Belden was born in San Francisco into a wealthy California family. His grandfather, Josiah Belden, was an early California pioneer who made millions in San Francisco real estate and was the first Mayor of San Jose. After graduating from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Charles Belden bought his first camera to record a European tour with his school friend, Eugene Phelps. The highlight of the tour was a journey through Russia in Belden's 1908 Packard, the first automobile to make such a trip in the country. After the trip, Belden went to work as a cowboy on the Phelps (Pitchfork) Ranch in Wyoming. In 1912, Belden married Eugene's sister, Frances. The couple had three children, Annice, Margot, and Mary Elizabeth, who died while still a toddler. Eugene's father died in 1922, leaving Eugene and Charles to take over management of the Pitchfork Ranch. Belden's 1921–1940 photographs of the Pitchfork Ranch were widely published, including in The Saturday Evening Post, National Geographic, and on the cover of Life magazine.Airplanes became a fascination for Belden. In the late 1920s, Charles became involved in raising antelope and sending them by airplane to zoos around the world, including some to Germany in the Hindenburg. He helped to pioneer the process of planting fish from the air and filmed the experience for future reference. In addition, he helped the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission conduct a census of wildlife herd populations using aerial photographs. Estate taxes, mismanagement, and an agricultural depression that began in 1921 took their toll on the Pitchfork and the ranch fell into decline. To meet expenses, in the 1930s the family turned their home into a dude ranch, but this response did not stop the financial drain. After many years of strained relations, Charles divorced Frances in 1940 and moved to Florida with a new wife, Verna Steele Belden. Charles Belden died in 1966 of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in St. Petersburg, Florida. more…

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