Picture Snatcher Page #3

And a man we depend on

for a number of important things.

How do you do?

How do you do?

Mr. Kean, I wish you'd show these visitors

through our plant.

Explain to them

how a great metropolitan daily is run.

I know you're a very busy man,

but do you mind?

I'm in the middle of a big murder story.

But it can wait. We run it next week.

- Oh, that will be wonderful, Mr. Kean.

Thank you.

Do you write the editorials?

No, I get all the tough assignments.

- I'm a picture snatcher.

- A what?

Millionaire's wife hides out with a chauffeur,

I slap their profiles on the front page.

I track down saps that have reason

to keep out of the papers.

Murderers, embezzlers,

crooked politicians.

People who pull down blinds

in the wrong houses.

In my opinion, modern journalism

has descended to a deplorable level.

A foreigner. And that ain't all I do.

I risk my neck grabbing photos

of plane crashes, train wrecks.

Ships breaking offshore in storms.

And other things.

- It must be thrilling.

- Aw, it's all a day's work.

Who in your opinion

was the most difficult person to approach?

- The governor.

- The governor.

And what was the subject

of the interview?

I wanted to ask his pardon.

Oh, I see. You owed him an apology.

Let it go at that.

Let's go to the paper room.

Go to the bottom and work up.

- Boy, that was close.

- I could see the whites of their eyes.

Here it is.

Enough paper for a million newspapers.

Yes, here it is. White wood pulp.

Plain white.

Why, today it's raw,

but tonight it's cooked.

With printer's ink. Photographic art.

The sweat of creative effort.

Tomorrow it goes out...

...and hundreds and thousands

of men and women...

...feed their starving, mediocre souls...

...on the indiscretions

and adventures of others.

And then, a little while later, what is it?

Don't you know?

They use it to wrap up herring.

I better go up. Dad will be home soon.

I was supposed to be in bed ages ago.

- Don't go up yet. Come on, it's early.

- Oh, I just got to.

- It's 3:
00.

- Just another minute. Come on.

- Hello, Pat.

- Oh, hello, Colleen.

So long, Mike, and thanks.

Good night, honey,

I'll see you Wednesday. Bye.

Nice night, huh?

Yeah.

- They're going to be married.

- I wonder whatever gave them that idea.

Oh, Danny, don't do that.

I thought you said you like me.

That's my father, Danny.

What do we do? What do we do?

Oh, wait. Come here, come here.

You better open up pretty soon...

...or I'll have to climb in a window

and let you in, Colleen.

Danny Kean.

Oh, no. You got me wrong.

My name is Brown.

- Tom Brown.

- Don't you lie to me, Danny.

Well, this ain't old home week.

I'm not patching up any old friendships.

I'm ashamed of you, Colleen. Out with

the no-good rascal like him. Ouch!

Aren't you ever gonna open up?

What's the idea?

Shh!

- Oh, why, Pat.

Pat. My own daughter, Pat.

I'll slug you.

My own daughter out with a yegg.

- Dad, don't. Dad, please don't.

- I'm gonna kill that little rat. Let me go.

Go on upstairs.

Missed me.

I'm gonna write him a letter about that.

I'm not allowed out at night.

He knows all about you.

I told him you're a reporter

and where you work.

Oh, what of it? I wanted to be a reporter

all my life and I am one.

Now. I'm respectable.

Daddy says you're a hoodlum.

I must never see you again.

There's the police. Always hounding

the guy. I'm not in the racket anymore.

I'm in a legitimate business.

He's on his way down to the paper

to see your boss. Oh, be careful.

All right, honey, don't worry.

I'll watch out.

Goodbye, baby. Goodbye, sweet. Bye.

Get it or don't come back.

- Well, did you fix it?

- She ain't sore, but the old man is.

He's coming down here.

Better hide out till you grow a beard.

I'll see what I can do.

No, you got worries enough now.

Not at all. It's a pleasure to remove a

few boulders from the rocky road to love.

Thanks, boss, you're a pal.

Yeah? Well, let Harrison do it.

Sure, you report back to the office.

Right.

Duck.

Greetings, lieutenant.

How's the only honest copper

on the force?

I'm looking for that no-good Danny Kean.

Minute you came, you gave me a brilliant

idea. I'm gonna write the story of your life.

I've always wanted to give you a boost

in print, you deserve it.

We ought to show the department

what it means to have you on the force.

What good will a boost in this rag

be doing me? Lt'll be a knot.

- This ain't a newspaper and you know it.

- All right, watch this.

Give me Joe Chase of the Record.

Sit down, lieutenant.

Hello, Joe. Al McLean.

Your sheet's always crusading something,

here's a chance for you...

...to put on a drive for Lieutenant Nolan.

Come clean, Mac.

What's Casey Nolan got on you?

Oh, no, no, nothing like that. He's

an honest copper, ought to be captain.

Cited for brains and bravery,

hates racketeers. Racketeers hate him.

Magical man to fight the crime

and hoodlum influence, get the idea?

You'll do us a favor. Give the paper a

chance to start a house-cleaning campaign.

Why don't you run it?

Oh, no, no. We only dish dirt over here.

You know that.

But the Record has a policy

of promoting civic virtue.

You will? Okay, thanks a million.

Next time you want somebody ruined,

call me up. How was that?

Wonderful. Won... But why should you

go out of your way for me?

McLEAN:
A friend of yours asked

to put in a boost for you.

Friend, who?

- Danny Kean.

- That yegg?

He's been trying to be respectable.

You keep hounding him. He's your friend.

Me hound anybody?

Me try to prevent a guy

from going straight?

Mac, you got me all wrong.

Where is he?

I'll get him. Danny.

Danny Kea...

Have you seen Danny Kean?

Danny, there's a pal of yours out here

looking for you.

You've met Lieutenant Nolan.

Yeah, we've met. Socially.

Shake hands, Danny.

Nobody can ever say Casey Nolan

ever refused to help a man go straight.

Any time you want anything,

just walk in and ask.

You don't have to be afraid. Just ask.

How about to asking me up to supper?

You get promoted again, captain...

...you'll have to get wider shoulders

to carry all those things.

- Is that the gat you plugged me with?

- Got you six times.

- Never missed you once, did I?

- Mm-mm.

- All six. You were good then.

- I'm still good.

Dad, please.

You'll be late for your lodge meeting.

All right. All right.

It's forgotten. I'm a reporter now,

the best reporter on the sheet.

- The best?

- Uh-huh.

- I suppose you're going up tomorrow?

- Up where?

Up to the execution at Sing Sing.

I'm in charge

of all the New York newspapermen.

But of course they wouldn't send you

an invitation.

- Why not?

No cub reporters allowed...

...only veteran newspapermen.

- Top-notchers, you know.

- I got more important things to do...

...than to watch some dame fry

for knocking over a boyfriend.

- Who issues the invitations?

- An old pal of yours.

- No kidding.

- Yeah, Warden Long.

Oh, I see.

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