Scandal Sheet

I know how you feel, lady.

Just take your time

and tell me what happened.

He had this meat ax, her blood all over it.

My brother-in-law had it.

Blood all over his hands, all over his shirt.

I can't talk about it, Officer.

I know it's rough, lady,

but I have to have the facts.

He comes staggering out in the hall.

He says, "I did it. Call the cops."

And then he...

Snap it up, Captain.

Lieutenant Davis just blew in.

What's he going to do, Officer?

- I'm not a cop, lady.

- But you said...

All I said was,

"I had to ask you some questions."

I'm from the Express.

You made me go through all that.

Why, you're not decent! You're not human!

- Sorry, lady. All part of the job.

- Well, well, Lieutenant Davis.

- Say, this must have been a homicide.

- Hi, Lieutenant. Wait till you hear it.

- A messy one.

- You keep pulling stuff like this, McCleary,

and so help me, if it's the last thing I do,

I'll run you in! Now, that's a warning!

This is KL-75263. Get me Plaza-52099.

You know, that wasn't a bad-Iooking dame.

Too bad the guy used an ax on her head.

Spoiled some pretty pictures for me.

Hey, Mark, have you put on the gloves

with those stockholders yet?

Hi. No, I'm just taping up my hands.

Well, you can tell them we got

another neat and gory one coming up.

Hatchet murder. Lower East Side tenement.

Wrapped up an exclusive interview

with an eyewitness.

You got plenty of art?

Yeah. Biddle grabbed all he could

of the body.

A dame, very messy.

Got a great hysterical close-up of her sister.

I'll even write the caption for you.

"I seen him with a bloody meat ax."

Good. With that, I can sell papers.

Give it to rewrite and we'll get it in the final.

Hold on. What do you want?

Mr. Madison called down

from the boardroom again, Mr. Chapman.

You hear that?

I'm letting them stew in their financial juices.

Well, don't overdo it. I like this job.

You've never gone backwards

with me before, have you, kid?

If we leave here, we'll bounce into

a bigger setup. I'll see you when you get in.

As one of the largest stockholders

in this corporation,

I would like to know

why the New York Express,

once a distinguished

and respected newspaper,

has been allowed to become

a cheap and depraved publication.

Why has an editor been allowed

to turn a decent journal into this?

A disgusting tabloid!

Pandering to the passions

of the base morons!

I demand an explanation, Frank Madison.

Well, Mrs. Rawley, I...

In defense of Mark Chapman, I...

Mr. Madison, I'd like to handle

my own defense, if you don't mind.

Just as you say, Mark.

Mrs. Rawley, I think you

and the other stockholders should know

that your publisher hired me

as executive editor

with full rights to transform this newspaper.

He did this for a very simple reason.

He was fed up with operating at a loss.

Why did Mr. Madison hire me?

Well, he felt it was time that the Express

buried its antiquated negative approach,

such as this.

But who won?

And become a positive newspaper.

We're in a business, ladies and gentlemen,

a business of satisfying the hunger

of the public for thrills, escape and news.

Here's where I took over

your highly respectable white elephant.

Instead of headlining a UN story,

we gave them a vice story.

Obviously, they went for it.

We played down

the presidential appointments

and concentrated

on the "Gorilla Man" killings.

Here's what happened.

Thirty or forty thousand new readers.

Why, in a year, circulation's up over 110%.

And when we reach 750,000,

we'll have to pay you a big bonus.

I'm not sure I like this at all.

Did you like the dividend check

you got last month

for the first time in 12 years?

I don't like this, sir.

What kind of journalism is this?

A newspaper

staging a cheap, vulgar display

in order to attract

the stupid slobs of the city!

The thousands who will attend

the Lonely Heart dance tonight,

these poor, friendly, unhappy people

whom you call stupid slobs,

buy and read this newspaper.

Their loyalty helped put that dividend check

in your pocket.

And I suppose you think it's a public service

when one of your reporters is arrested

for withholding information from the police?

Or whatever it was.

This, what's his name, McCleary person,

and the things he writes about!

I think he should be fired!

This McCleary person

is the best young reporter I've seen

in 25 years of newspapering.

Before I'll fire him,

I'll throw the Express up for grabs

and go to work for somebody

who appreciates real talent on a paper!

- Mark, I'm sure...

- One last thing.

The only contract I have here is a handshake

between Mr. Madison and myself.

Now, unless you give me full rights

to run this paper the way I want,

I'll quit after the final edition today.

Now, I'm sorry I can't stay with you

any longer. I have a newspaper to get out!

- Your story ready, Miss Allison?

- I'll have the rest in a minute, Joey.

Mr. Chapman?

Thanks.

McCleary story in yet, Bax?

How'd you make out in the torture chamber?

This is good. Give it a big play.

Mac'll do a byline follow-up tomorrow.

- What are these?

- Pics for that Lonely Heart spread.

- Junk them.

- But I...

Take Peters off the Lonely Hearts.

He's photographing these slobs

like a lineup in a soup kitchen

instead of panting for a red-hot romance.

- Okay. But I...

- Yeah?

Yes, Mr. Madison.

- Get an ax, smear it with blood.

- Yeah? Whose?

Yours. If you can't spare any,

use chocolate syrup or something.

Chocolate? Goody! When I'm through,

I can make a plate of fudge. Drop in.

So, you still insist a woman having 20 kids

is worth a feature article?

Hi, genius.

I think it's worth a whole front page.

It scares me, this maternal instinct of yours.

Decided where you're taking me

to dinner tonight?

If Chapman hasn't been canned,

you're going to dine with the worst loser

who ever paid off a bet.

Then you'd better stash some

bicarbonate soda in your bag, princess.

You're gonna need it.

Don't count your steaks

before you hear the sizzle.

Well, what's the word? Are you ex or still?

They're not dumb enough

to throw out a winner.

Congratulations. I knew you'd stick

their stocks right back in their teeth.

I told them if they fired me,

McCleary would quit, too,

and then they'd be in real trouble.

I wouldn't put it past them

to try and dump you

to get out of paying the bonus that's

staring them right in their glassy eyes.

I've got news for you.

I'm going to cut you in

for a piece of that bonus.

What do you want me to do, retire?

I thought we could make a deal with Madison

to buy some of the company's stock.

You know, kid,

we could end up owning this newspaper.

- Well, that's the best offer I've had all week.

- I'll make you another one.

I'll take you to dinner tonight.

You pick the spot.

I'll make you a better offer.

My date's buying. She lost a bet.

The Grand Duchess from Vassar again?

The way I feel, I can put up with anything.

- I'm more worried, can she put up with you?

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