Park Row Page #6

Right back on the first paragraph again.

All I can tell you is

her name is Charity...

...of which she has none.

If you had to write her obituary...

What would you write?

Yeah...

I could tell you.

If I had to write her obit.

"Charity Hackett, publisher of 'The Star',

is dead."

"She was ruthless...and ambitious..."

"Her beauty was like an almanac..."

"It lasted unto her death..."

Her face was better than all

the letters of recommendation in the world.

Poise...a privilege of nature...

Her voice...

...a short-lived sonata.

You're in love with a corpse, my boy.

Banquet over?

No.

Glad you dropped in.

I was just going over

the list of publishers.

My story would be incomplete

without a quote from you.

Sometimes it takes more than a quote

to complete a story, Mr Mitchell.

That's why I dropped in.

Alright...complete the story.

Well...I was in the midst of champagne...

..and I came to the decision that it would be

a very good idea if we got married.

Oh...a merger...

Your masthead and mine...

We could elope with tomorrow's

first issue.

It'd be a wonderful honeymoon...

...Not on a biological basis, but...

A mass circulation...

...of 'The Star-Globe.'

You know, I was just thinking...

I could buy a ton and a half of newsprint

with that coat.

Oh, you could have

a lot of things I have.

A large staff...

A circulation wagon...

Wide distribution.

Money.

Contact.

You could be the most famous editor

in New York.

And by the way, this coat is worth

5 tons of newsprint.

Alright...

It's a merger.

But there'll be only one baby

in the family.

And we'll christen it 'The Globe.'

I'll complete the story

for you Mr Mitchell.

Yes, Miss Hackett?

Mr Mitchell's sensational treatment

of the news...

...coupled with a crusading spirit...

...can easily develop

into grave competition.

I agree, Miss Hackett.

Then why haven't you

done something about it?

I have no jurisdiction over the editorial policy

of this newspaper.

There is no editorial policy

that can beat him.

Mr Wiley...

Yes?

I want you to stop

his source of supply.

Paper...type...ink...

'The Globe' will be dead next week.

Thugs are breaking up our newsstands...

Come on!

Where's Hackett?

What's the matter?

Busting up my newsstands

isn't going to stop me from selling papers.

Busting up your what?

I thought you were

a newspaperman!

Where's Leach?

You wanted an editorial department...

...so I turned his desk around...

...and now you can see everything

that's going on.

Alright, where's Leach?

He went to South Street at the fish market

to try and get some paper.

He better come back

loaded with paper...

I'll give you some copy

in a minute, Mr Angelo...

Jeff, we're going to tell this town

all about Hackett's circulation tactics.

I want you to get this in the lead...

We're going to fight with news,

not knuckles...

We use words...not fists!

What happened to you?

They killed the horses...

Burned the wagon...

dumped our paper...

Where's Rusty?

They ran over him...both legs!

Will he live?

- I don't know.

- Will he walk?

They don't know...he's at the hospital.

Who ran over him?

'Monk' Rodgers.

I know him!

Get him!

Hackett, you ran over a 'Globe' man...

Killing horses...burning borrowed wagons...

..and dumping newsprint...

...isn't going to stop me coming out

every day!

You've started a war, Hackett!

A circulation war...

...and I'll finish it!

Mr Spiro...go back to your desk.

Please!

Mr Wiley...I don't want an explanation...

I just want to tell you

one thing...

I do not have to resort

to physical violence

to compete with 'The Globe'

or any other newspaper.

You have done an affront to me

and an insult to 'The Star.'

What do YOU want?

You're certain that I was responsible

for this circulation war...

Well that's not important.

It's important that you and I

have a truce.

A little late to believe in a white flag...

we've already suffered a casualty.

There'll be more casualties

if we don't stop the violence.

I'm going to the hospital

to find out about Rusty.

Just running down a kid,

kind of got your attention, eh?

Look, I fired Mr Wiley.

Someone had to give the order

to kill 'The Globe.'

Did they tell you Rusty

might lose both his legs?

Thick iron wheels ran over them...

THAT wide!

'The Star' has got the only wagons in town

with wheels that wide.

Why don't you run over

old Mr Davenport?

He's a nice old man

about ready to die.

It'd be a great story

if he died for a paper, wouldn't it?

What about little Mr Angelo?

You'd only need a little wagon

to crush his little body.

I want to see the editor.

You're talking to him.

I thought you'd print the name

of every contributor to the Liberty Fund.

We do.

I gave $5 last week and I've never seen

my name in the paper yet.

What's your name?

Taylor...George Taylor.

Taylor, eh?

No George Taylor in here.

Here's my receipt.

Where did you get this?

What do you mean,

where did I get it?

Who gave you this receipt?

I don't know his name.

Look, mister...I run a little smoke shop

down in The Bowery...

I've been there for 20 years

and I've got a good name.

I don't like your tone.

I gave $5 in good faith.

You put my name in the paper,

or give me my $5 back.

I can't put your name in the paper, Mr Taylor

and I can't give you your $5 back...

Because we never received it.

This is a forged receipt...

it's not ours.

I'm sorry.

- Where is this Mr Mitchell?

- I'm Mr Mitchell.

I gave $25 for the pedestal and not a single

mention of my name in 'The Globe'.'

And my husband gave $50,

Mr Mitchell!

$50!

- Did you get your money back, Georg?

- No I didn't.

Mitchell, I been around this street

a long time...

And I hate seeing a paper

using its pages to cheat the public.

I gave $7 to the Liberty Fund

and I haven't seen MY name in 'The Globe'.

And a lot of my friends

are holding receipts.

We're beginning to think you're using

this patriotic gesture to pocket the money.

Now if we don't get our money back,

I'm going to see that Washington hears about it.

It's only to prevent a tragedy

that I've come here to see you.

Someone is passing forged receipts

for the pedestal fund.

The Attorney General of the United States

ordered Mitch to return all money to subscribers.

Why don't you like me?

I don't dislike you, Charity...

I'm simply not fond of you.

If you were fighting The Tribune,

World, Herald, The Sun...

That would be a real fight.

But you're fighting 'The Globe'

because Mitch excites you...

Antagonises you...

And outwits you.

You're jealous of him.

And you've made it

a personal newspaper war.

I could understand,

if you love him...

You and I both know,

you'll never get him.

You come from a great line

of newspaper people.

But you...you're not

of our profession.

Only on the surface.

I'm glad you're a woman...

For when you die, the name of Hackett

shall die with you.

Hey...barmaid!...Cute, eh?

You patriotic?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes