No Time for Love

Miss Grant, when Mirror Magazine

gives you an assignment...

Very well. I resign.

Hallelujah! Miss Grant!

Mr. Christley... Very busy.

Yes, Christley? Miss

Grant has resigned again.

Christley, Miss Grant never

resigns without provocation.

What have you been doing this time?

Isn't it within a managing editor's domain.

...to tell a member of his

staff that her work stinks?

It is, if the accusation is

true. But you're well aware.

...that Miss Grant is among the foremost

women photographers in this country.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But she doesn't make sense.

Remember, furthermore, that you're

speaking of the woman I hope to marry.

All right. All right. Now, look...

I appreciate that we're supposed to

be running a class picture magazine.

But when there's a legitimate chance.

...to slip a little leg

art into the world today...

...and she comes back with

this, I don't know what to say.

Yes, well... Well...

What was her assignment?

Backstage at the ballet. Not

a sign of a dancer in tights.

Not a leg. Not even a foot.

Christley, you have been informed.

...that Miss Grant may photograph

her assignments as she sees fit.

The point is, her assignment

isn't in the pictures.

Now you're quibbling.

Please telephone Miss Grant

and apologize immediately.

For what?

You know we can't afford to lose her...

...and we would regret losing you.

Sometimes I feel like you must feel.

Aren't you carrying art a

little far, even as a hobby?

Did you ever see an exciting

photograph of an egg?

Honey, the only time an egg can

excite me is when I'm hungry.

Katherine Grant Studio,

this is her sister speaking.

Oh! Just a minute.

The monster. I'm busy.

One minute, please.

Come on, let the man apologize...

...so you can stop fooling around.

with a tired egg and get back to work.

I don't need that job, there are other

places, where the managing editor.

won't try to conceal his own

ignorance by belittling my work.

Oh, you'll break Henry's

heart if you don't go back.

Come on, be a sport.

Yes.

Miss Grant, on behalf of my wife.

...and three children, who must eat...

I apologize for what I said this morning.

...and beg you to return to work.

Are you insinuating you were forced

to make this call by Mr. Fulton?

Well, I only know what I know.

Mr. Christley, I defy you to prove.

...that I have ever taken advantage

of my friendship with Mr. Fulton.

I ask for no soft assignments,

no special courtesies.

I see.

May I take you at your word, Miss Grant?

Naturally. Why?

Well, the Interborough Vehicular

River Tunnel Project is well underway.

Would you care to crawl into the hole.

...and point your talented

camera at what goes on?

You mean under the river

while they're still digging?

Mr. Christley, you know that

that's not my type of photography.

Perhaps later, when the tunnel's

finished and there's an opportunity.

...to achieve some geometric

patterns with lights and shadows.

But the point is, my dear young lady...

...that there wouldn't be any tunnel.

...if it weren't for the men

who are risking their lives.

...in creating it right now. We're

interested in them, not the walls.

Of course, if you demand

some preferred assignment...

...naturally I'm helpless to...

All right, all right. I told you

I'll take whatever I'm assigned...

...regardless of the childish,

revengeful spirit behind it.

You go ahead and make the

necessary arrangements.

And don't forget to feed your wife.

You're in again? "In" is right.

In a hole, under the East River!

Photographing all those groundhogs?

Sandhogs.

Will you tell me why it's become a crime.

...to photograph inanimate beauty?

Why must there be only crossed legs.

...and rouged faces and grime and sweat?

Don't look at me, I had a bath this morning.

Now we're under the river.

Before we reach the point at

which the men are working...

we have to go through the compression tank.

Some people collapse at that

point, and others on the way out.

Do I have my choice?

We're all subject to the bends.

Nitrogen bubbles in the blood stream.

That's from the high

pressure we have to maintain.

...to equalize the water pressure around us.

Liberty boat.

Let's get going.

Let me take your things, Miss Grant.

No, thanks. I always pay my own way.

Hurry up. I got a date with an

angel in a dive on Second Avenue.

Who's that?

Guess they're getting short of men!

Visitor, Mike, take it easy.

Okay, Mike.

Well, I don't feel any difference.

The only place you will

feel it is in your ears.

If you do, hold your nose and blow like this.

It's like deep sea diving. We

increase the air pressure in this tank.

...until it equals the pressure under

which the men are working in the tunnel.

Could I take a picture of this?

Help yourself.

Give me the heading.

Come on, you apes.

Come on, come on, come on.

That's right. Come on.

On the phone.

Yo!

Moran? Stick your ear

into the phone and listen.

I'm bringing a woman down.

On the company's time?

Stop clowning. She's a

photographer from Mirror Magazine.

...and is going to shoot some

pictures of the men working.

So, for the love of mud, have

them watch their language.

What's the temperature in here? Way over 100.

Quiet down.

Quiet! Quiet! Quiet, up there.

When I say quiet, I want it quiet.

Listen, you fatheads,

there's a lady coming down...

...so the cussing is out.

If you can't talk without

cussing, then make faces.

What's the idea of bringing a dame down here?

Don't they know it's bad luck?

I'm getting out while I got my health.

If we had brains, we'd all get out.

You can suit yourself about

that, but whatever happens...

...keep your snouts out of the

gutter, you muck-covered baboons...

...or I'll kick you out of

your hairy hides and throw...

Moran!

Mr. Taylor, the men say they won't work.

while there's a woman in the tunnel.

It's an old superstition,

there's nothing I can do about it.

They're a jinx underground.

We ain't inviting trouble.

Well, I'm sorry. I didn't realize.

You see, they told me that

this was where I'd find.

...real, honest-to-goodness

fearless men.

Nobody mentioned anything

about superstitious children.

Well, you heard what the lady

said. Come on, back to work.

Back to work. Come on, come on, come on.

And mind your language.

Thank you very much.

Mr. Morrisey, might I have your

assistance with this slave bracelet?

Mr. Hanagan, it's a pleasure to help you.

And it's my turn to carry the heavy end.

Thank you, Mr. Hanagan.

What you expected?

It's like small-time vaudeville!

Easy, easy.

Little over this way.

Lower. Lower.

Little more. Little more. That's it.

Pardon me. What do you do?

I'm a butterfly presser.

I mean, what's your title?

No titles down here. We're all democrats.

What do you want?

Would you like to pose for me?

I didn't bring my butterflies.

Now, look, you needn't be cute.

I just need a fairly human

model for some pictures.

That's out. My mamma done told me.

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