William Johnstone inherited one of radio’s most intimidating assignments in 1938: follow Orson Welles as The Shadow. Welles had made the role inseparable from his own rising legend, and more than forty actors were reportedly considered before Johnstone was chosen. The safest approach would have been imitation. Johnstone instead settled into the character for five seasons and let his own voice define Lamont Cranston.

Born and raised in New York in 1908, Johnstone worked briefly as a newspaper reporter before committing to acting. The Theatre Guild gave him professional stage experience during the late 1920s, including work in experimental and literary productions. That background mattered when radio began asking actors to move between pulp adventure, prestige adaptation and modern crime drama with almost no transition time.

As The Shadow, Johnstone had to serve two realities at once. Lamont Cranston was a sophisticated man moving through ordinary society, while The Shadow existed as an unseen force associated with hypnosis, criminal terror and one of broadcasting’s most famous laughs. Johnstone’s interpretation was less showily theatrical than Welles’s and more controlled. The program did not need him to recreate the previous actor. It needed a dependable lead who could keep the mystery machine working week after week.

Years later The Lineup asked for almost the opposite performance. As Lieutenant Ben Guthrie, Johnstone entered a postwar police drama interested in routine, procedure and realism rather than supernatural menace. Guthrie was calm and methodical, paired first with Joseph Kearns and later Wally Maher as the more impatient Sergeant Grebb. The drama came from investigation and observation, not a hero announcing himself from the darkness.

The distance between The Shadow and The Lineup makes Johnstone’s career especially instructive. He had learned radio when stylized voices and larger-than-life premises were central to popular drama, then remained useful as the medium moved toward documentary influence and underplayed police work. Many actors mastered one of those styles. Johnstone carried both.

He was also a prolific repertory performer on Lux Radio Theatre, This Is Your FBI, Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, Tales of the Texas Rangers and other programs. Stage, film and later radio work continued around those assignments, but broadcasting remained the medium in which his professional adaptability is easiest to hear.

Johnstone lived until 1996, long enough to see the programs that had once been weekly entertainment become part of broadcasting history. His two signature crime roles almost bookend that change. One begins with a disembodied laugh and a mysterious vigilante. The other begins at police headquarters under glaring lights.