Teacher's Pet Page #10

I brought some of Dad's|original notes with me.

I thought it may be interesting|in Chapter Four to show the genesis...

of some of the editorials, you know?

And trace them through|the first draft and a brief...

He's in the bedroom.

He'll be all right,|I guess, in a couple of weeks.

What's the matter with him?

Utterly despondent, remorseful.

Filled with contrition|and ideas of self-destruction.

- But, Hugo-|- Martini?

No, thank you.

But what surprises me|is the way you treated him.

The way I treated...

- What he did to me-|- But you should haVe asked yourself...

why he did it.

You'Ve taken two years of psychology|from me, you should haVe a little...

understanding of these things.

What motiVated this deception of his?

A desire to humiliate|and hurt me, that's what-

NeVer. He has a deep affection|for you, Erica Stone...

but he is in rebellion against|what you represent.

Here's a man in a responsible position,|who feels insecure and...

inferior because|he has no formal education.

He meets a teacher,|the symbol of academic achieVement.

By deceiVing, dominating, and|outwitting the teacher, he experiences...

the exhilarating feeling of superiority.

His battered and cringing ego|emerges Victorious.

He's not to be held in contempt...

he's to be pitied.

I just neVer thought of it in that way.

And you should haVe seen him|when he came here this eVening.

All of his confidence,|his security completely gone.

A mere shadow of a man...

doubting his Very self.

You haVe taken this once proud|and forceful man...

and made of him a weakling...

bewildered and floundering|in a sea of doubt.

Joel Barlow Stone.

I'm sorry, but you stink.

Now, when he comes out,|be warm and understanding.

Gannon!

Doc, I got my confidence back.

You know what did it for me?|Reading The Eureka Bulletin.

I'm suddenly sure of what|good journalism should be...

because this is one of|the lousiest papers I'Ve eVer seen.

What's the matter? Your head again?

No, yours.

I'll bet he got a hold of|one of those copies that came out...

while your father was on his Vacation.|Didn't you?

No.

And I'm not going to|try to back out of this one.

I'm sorry I hurt you again, but at least|this time it was done with honesty.

Martini, anyone?

Please go on, Mr. Gannon.

I'm Very interested|in getting your critical opinion...

of a newspaper like The Bulletin.

Well...

to begin with, it isn't eVen a newspaper.

It's a guy sitting around|a cracker-barrel, talking and talking.

Isn't it interesting that the Pulitzer Prize|Committee didn't agree with you?

He won the prize for an editorial,|and it was a brilliant job.

But he should have stuck to|the editorial page...

and let someone run...

the paper who hated words.

Now, here's a world-shaking story|on Page 1.

At least four columns...

all about whether those berries|Art Smith was selling yesterday...

were blueberries or huckleberries.

Look at this. Published twice weekly...

circulation 2,500...

one page of adVertising...

with no other sheet|to giVe him competition.

That isn't a newspaper, it's a hobby!

You know...

you may not belieVe it, but I'm interested|in those kids you're teaching.

But in the name of Pulitzer,|tell them the truth!

Tell them this is a business, a rough,|tough, fighting, clawing business.

The Chronicle has a circulation|of a half million.

Each copy sells for a dime|and costs at least 10 cents to print.

We stay aliVe by adVertising...

the same as eVery other paper|in this town...

and we battle each other for it.

Why, I wind up with only|49 columns for news...

and I won't waste four of them|on whether those berries Art Smith...

was selling yesterday|were blueberries or huckleberries.

You're confusing journalism|with loyalty...

and you're giVing this paper...

a sentimental reVerence|it doesn't deserve.

Do me a favour. Tear off the title|and forget your father wrote it.

Put in eight pages of adVertising|and then take an honest blue pencil...

to the rest|and see what you come up with.

If it's still the same paper...

then you better|put this back on his desk.

You gaVe it to the wrong fellow.

LeaVe it go,|maybe the whole joint will burn.

Don't pour the coffee on it, it'll explode.

HOCHULl:
Hey, Jim, you got somebody|to coVer a fire?

I got a fire of my own.|The Colonel just sent for me.

Hot copy.

Let it burn for an hour,|it'll make a better story.

Maybe this will help.

Take it out and burn it.

Good morning, Colonel.|Good morning, Jim.

You remember Miss Stone.

She's come back today with an idea...

which strikes me|as being an excellent one.

She thought that if we...

But you go ahead, Erica.|After all, it's your idea.

Thank you, Colonel.

Mr. Gannon, I'Ve been doing|a lot of thinking...

and, well...

when one teaches the same courses|semester after semester...

one is apt to repeat certain examples|and certain concepts.

Yes, one is apt to.

And with the constant repetition...

if one is not careful, there...

is a danger of their becoming|dogmatic principles.

- Yes, you're quite right.|- Not only in teaching, my dear...

but if we're not careful|we get into ruts, too.

Only this morning, at the staff meeting,|Jim made the point that...

although we haVe to keep The Chronicle|Vital and exciting and commercial...

perhaps we ought to do a little more|interpretation of the news...

giVe our readers a little more|to think about.

Isn't that right, Jim?

But pardon me|for interrupting you, dear.

That's perfectly all right, Colonel.

Mr. Gannon, I was wondering if I could|preVail upon you to giVe a series...

of guest lectures to my classes?

You know, the practical|touch added to the academic approach?

The wedding of the old pros|and the eggheads.

Weren't those your words?|Exactly, Colonel.

Or perhaps we could debate certain|aspects of journalism.

The students might find it|Very stimulating.

They sure might.

Well, I'll let you two|work it out. Goodbye, my dear...

and please feel free|to call on me at any time.

Goodbye, Colonel,|and thank you Very much.

Not at all. Jim...

last night I read this think piece...

you know, the one the student wrote.

It's long, but I think it's newsworthy.

- Bye-bye, Colonel.|- Goodbye.

Long, huh?

I didn't write it. One of the staff did.

To me, anything oVer 500 words|is a noVel.

When do we start this clambake?

Well, I haVe a class tonight.

Of course you understand that|the uniVersity can't pay you anything.

But since you'll be giVing a series of|lectures, the Dean would like to...

giVe you faculty status.

Me, on a faculty?

No, I don't think... Well, no...

That's a little ridiculous.|I wouldn't know...

- We'll talk it oVer at lunch.|- All right.

I'll get my coat and hat.

- Hiya, Jim.|- Hello, Bob.

- Mr. Gannon?|- Yeah.

Hello, Mrs. KoVac.

I just came to pick up Barney's things.

Sure.

I was hoping I'd bump into you|so I could thank you.

For what?

For sending Barney|back to school, for what.

Is he really going?

He's making lots of noises|about getting another job...

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