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Park Row
- APPROVED
- Year:
- 1952
- 83 min
- 129 Views
This is Johannes Gutenberg...
Who invented moveable type 500 years ago...
...and printed the first Bible.
Recognised as the father
of modern printing
Gutenberg stands on Park Row...
...the most famous newspaper street
in the world...
..where giants of journalism
mix blood and ink...
...to make history across
the front page of America.
The story takes place in New York...
...in the lusty days
of the 'Golden Eighties'...
...when Park Row was the birthplace
and graveyard of great headlines.
The street of America's
first world-famous journalist...
...a printer's devil who helped draft
the Declaration of Independence...
...and was one of its signers...
Benjamin Franklin...
...patron saint of Park Row.
And, it is the street of Phineas Mitchell...
It'll be alright, officer...
The new licence will be here
first thing in the morning.
What've you got?
Gin fizz Rainbow Egg Nog Mint Julep
Tom & Jerry Tom Collins Whisky Sour...
What'll you have?
Beer!
If you want to make such progress
in our profession...
...why don't you go work on 'The World'?
Pulitzer's introducing
a lot of new things.
It's a fine newspaper, Mr Hudson...
...but I'm not a journalist...
...I'm a machinist.
I'm interested in the problems
of setting type by hand...
...and how slow this is.
Why, Hackett's getting his out
faster than any paper in the country.
Gentlemen always manage to become involved
in katzenjammer over journalism.
I have learned there are 4 subjects
one should never argue about...
Anthropology, bird-calls, romance...
...and of course, newspapers.
You have become a wonderful legend,
Mr Davenport.
It's tragic to remain a living legend,
Mr Mergenthaler...
People only respect the dead.
Often I feel guilty...
...in taking such a long time to die.
But I shall not die...
until I am ready to forsake Park Row...
...which has already forsaken ME.
Mitch!
How about being your pleasure...
Jenny...a keg-drainer...
Stick of straight...schooner chaser.
Mitch...you've got brains...
How can a character like me
get to be a character enough...
...to be written up in your paper?
a photograph idea from you.
Look, gentlemen, I'm serious...
I can sing and dance...
I got a wonderful personality...
In fact I've got all the makings
of a delightful character.
Just because I'm not famous...
...people think I'm a bummer.
Jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.
It'd push Ireland's Home-Rule
off the front page.
You'd be cock o' the walk!
The talk of New York!
That's a wonderful idea...
The splash 'd be heard
round the world!
And I'd be happy for the fellow
who jumped off Brooklyn Bridge...
...to marry my Jenny.
I'd be a widow before I got married...
Don't listen to him, Steve!
He's taking you serious.
You know...it's only 120 little feet
from the bridge to the water.
Now, that isn't much of a leap...
...but long enough to make you a celebrity.
And when you open your own place...
You can advertise...
"The Longest Bar in the World!"
Steve Brody's 120-foot bar!
- See it, Steve?
- Yeah...I can see it.
Hogwash!
Longest bar in the world!
I'll have a couple of drinks
and think it over.
Certainly, me boy...certainly...
Jenny!...
A couple of 'Anniversaire'...
for Mr Brody.
The story really bothers you...
doesn't it?
Yeah.
What are you going to do about it?
- Write a 'hankie'?
- No.
Who's crying in your beer
about Charlie Mott?
He's dead.
They've hanged the wrong person.
Should've broken Hackett's neck
on the gallows.
Where are you going?
To the cemetery.
Gonna claim a body?
Nope...gonna lose my job.
that a habitu of this 'concert hall'...
had the gall to sneak into Potters Field tonight...
...and nail a plaque
to the cross of one, Charles Mott...
...executed by the state, for murder.
I had it removed.
It would have been very simple
to have despatched someone here...
But I personally would like to confront
the man responsible..
...for this accusation against me
and my newspaper.
Every man's entitled to an epitaph.
I nailed it to his cross.
Ah...the ghoul himself!
I'm a newspaperman.
On what paper?
Your paper.
He works for 'The Star', Miss Hackett.
What do you do?...
Shuffle refuse behind the circulation wrap?
Editorials department.
What's your name?
Phineas Mitchell.
Phineas Mitchell?
There is no Phineas Mitchell on my paper.
Firing me won't help the way
you've prostituted journalism.
I'm not running the gallows...
I'm running a newspaper.
He was tried by your paper.
He was tried by a jury.
You sprung the trap.
What was Charles Mott to you?
Nothing.
I just don't like trial by a newspaper
I call a contemptible publication.
I call it peddling papers.
You'd use corpses to peddle papers,
what a frustrated journalistic fraud
you are.
It's publishers like you that give
anarchists the ammunition
to try and stifle a free press.
Mr Spiro...
Yes, Miss Hackett?
This...defiler of graves...
Who employed him?
I did!
Why?
He's a newspaperman.
And the best!
Oh, I have seen this global monument
somewhere.
He's Jeff Hudson...editorial.
There's no Jeff Hudson on MY paper.
This?
I don't know him.
That?
Thomas Guest, cartoonist...unemployed.
Mr Davenport...
It displeases me to see YOU
with this group.
Charity, my dear, you've made of yourself
a newspaper jackal...
feasting at the grave of a man
you helped to execute.
'The Star' reported facts...
nothing else.
The day 'The Star' reports facts,
Judas Iscariot will be sainted.
Greeley turns over in his grave
every time you go to press.
Another disciple of Horace Greeley!
Mr Spiro...escort this wench
back to her slaughterhouse...
before I throw her out of here
right on her front page!
'Angel Dew'...goes down like water...
...and comes up like Nobel's dynamite.
I done it!
Done what?
I jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge!
Not a single bone broken...
you're a liar!
I got witnesses...
you over-stuffed slime-wrangler!
I done it and I lived...
And that's what makes you hotter
than a boiled sausage in a split bowl!
Jenny, honey...I'll be a celebrity tomorrow,
And you'll be the proud girl
on my arm.
Alright Mitch...put it in the newspaper...
put it in the newspaper!
Steve Brody...proudly of The Bowery...
Aristocrat of the Fourth Ward...
Jumps off the Brooklyn Bridge
You should have seen me...I was
standing there...looking down...
Looking down at the bottom...
120 feet to death!
The longest jump
ever made by man.
It's a long jump for nothing, Steve.
I was fired from 'The Star'.
You was fired?
I couldn't get anything in that paper...
unless I died.
Alright Jeff...you put it...
Look...I'm standing there, see...
I was fired, too.
Oh, come on...
Hold your horses!
Hold your horses!
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"Park Row" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 Sep. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/park_row_15611>.
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