The Front Page Page #3

I-- I don't understand you.

What have I done?

Your probation officer

is right here with me.

Probation officer?

I don't know any probation...

He said what?

Me? Oh, now wait a minute,

honey. Well...

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.

What does this guy look like?

Never mind.

I'll describe him to you.

About 6'3", huge feet,

mean little eyes,

and a nose like a pickle.

Right?

You want to know who that is?

Honey, you're not

gonna believe this.

Walter Burns,

that conniving son of a...

Well, I better be

running along now.

I have a couple of

other cases to look into.

Uh, just a minute.

Hildy would like

to speak to you.

Not now.

I have to check up on the candy man.

We call him that

because he hangs around schoolyards.

Here.

Hello. Fishbein speaking.

Fishbein, huh? Listen,

you lousy baboon.

You better start

wearing cast-iron shorts

because the next time

I see you,

I'm gonna bury my shoe

up your ass.

Come on, Hildy.

You used to be able to take a joke

before you went into

the advertising business.

Of all of the lowdown,

stinking...

You'd wreck my marriage

just to keep me

on that crummy paper

of yours?

Hildy, all I'm asking

is that you postpone it for 24 hours.

Just cover this hanging

for me.

Mr. Burns, I wouldn't cover

the last supper for you

if they held it in the pump room

of the Ambassador East.

Now, you get the hell off the phone

and let me speak to my girl.

All right. All right.

The flasher wants to talk to you.

That was a rotten thing

to do.

It was for your own good,

believe me.

Marry an undertaker,

marry a blackjack dealer,

marry a pickpocket,

but never marry a newspaperman.

That's why

I'm making him quit.

You can't make a leopard

change its spots,

or hitch a fire horse

to a milk wagon.

He'll be like a fish

out of water.

We'll take our chances.

Now, if you don't mind.

Just a friendly warning.

That's my wedding present to you.

Darling, I'm sorry.

I should've known better,

but he just sounded

so convincing.

I finish my last show at 9:15.

Will you pick me up?

Tell Hildy I wish him

all the luck in the world and I mean it

or my name

isn't Otto Fishbein.

A dime.

Make it two bits.

I'm shy a quarter.

Too rich for me.

Can I clean up

in here?

Yes.

No!

Queen.

Ace.

Hey, listen.

I'm the big loser here.

Somebody must be winning.

Crack it for a dime.

By me.

I'm in.

A deuce, I can't read it.

Pair of fours.

Pair of kings,

bets a quarter.

Oh, I'm out.

Good evening.

That's your light.

Give me a card.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Sorry to interrupt,

but which is the Examiner desk?

The what?

This is the pressroom,

isn't it?

So?

I'm Rudy Keppler.

I'm here to cover

the execution for the Examiner.

The Examiner?

How come?

What happened to Hildy?

Mr. Johnson is no longer

with the paper.

What do you mean?

He resigned.

Is this my place?

Resigned?

You're joking.

From what I heard, he's getting married

and moving to Philadelphia.

Come on, not Hildy.

I thought he was married

to Walter Burns.

He'll never

give him a divorce.

This place won't be the same

without Hildy.

Well, I would hope so.

I've always found him rowdy,

ill-mannered, and irresponsible.

But a hell of a reporter.

No contest.

That's why

I'm so nervous.

Following in his footsteps.

Being here

with all of you old pros.

Hey, I'll bet

you went to college.

School of Journalism?

How'd you guess?

University of Wisconsin,

Class of '27.

Oh, that was a good year.

We could sure use

some new blood around here.

That's for sure.

Hey, you play poker?

Cribbage is my game.

And a little auction bridge.

Don't worry.

We'll break you in.

That's very kind of you.

But right now,

is there any paper

around here?

Hey, Bensinger, why don't you give him

some of that pink stuff?

I think you're all being perfectly

beastly to this nice young man.

I've been lookin'

for you bums.

Hello, sweetheart.

Well, if it isn't

Miss Mollie Malloy.

Nooky-nooky.

How's the

old tomato can?

Go on, laugh,

damn you.

Hey, Mollie, those were pretty roses

you sent Earl Williams.

What do you want

done with them when he checks out?

He left

a 7:
00 a.m. call.

Bunch of wisenheimers,

ain't you?

Well, you know

what I think of you.

You gonna pay a call

on your boyfriend?

He's right across

the courtyard, Mollie.

I'm sure he'd rather

spend his last night with you

than with the chaplain.

If you was worth

breaking my fingernails on,

I'd tear your puss

wide open.

Would someone mind

introducing me to the lady?

Lady? Huh. Just get a whiff

of that perfume, Fleur de Floozy.

Bastards. All of you.

What are you

sore about, huh?

Wasn't that a swell write-up

we gave you?

I never said

I loved Earl Williams

and was willing to marry him

on the gallows.

You made that up.

Come on, you've been sucking

around that cuckoo

ever since he's been

in the death house.

Everybody knows

you're his soul mate.

That's a lot of bunk.

Like all that other stuff

you been writin'.

Calling me an Angel

of the Pavement,

a Midnight Madonna.

Who're you kidding?

I'm a $2 whore from Division Street,

and you know it.

That's right.

She shouldn't be allowed in here.

And that love nest

you had with Williams?

That's a lie. He never even

laid a hand on me.

You had that red in your bed

for three days and nights.

Did he have

that kind of money?

Or did you make him

a special price?

The poor guy

didn't have enough for a cup of coffee.

He used to hang

around Division Street

every night,

handin' out leaflets.

Tellin' us how

we were being exploited

by capitalism

and that we should organize.

So the pimps came around

and beat him up.

And there he was,

lyin' on the sidewalk, bleedin'.

With his glasses broken.

So I took him up to my place,

like any human being would.

That was a very

charitable thing to do.

Yeah. Meet

Florence Nightingale.

Sure, I took care of him.

And for three days and three nights

he just talked to me.

Treated me decent.

Not like an animal.

Now, you guys are trying

to make a fool out of me.

Why didn't you adopt him

instead of letting him

run around shooting policemen?

I told him to stay away

from that corner.

When they sent a cop

to chase him away,

he said it was

his constitutional right.

So the cop pulled a gun on him

and he panicked.

He just grabbed for the gun

and it went off.

He didn't mean to kill him.

Aw, put it

on a Victrola record.

Suppose that cop

had been your own brother?

I wish to God it had been one of you,

you lousy punks.

What's that?

Just testing.

Testing what?

They're fixing up

a pain in the neck for your boyfriend.

Maybe we ought to put

a little talcum on the noose,

make it slide easier.

Oh, my God!

You gonna

claim the body, Mollie?

Or scatter his ashes

over Division Street?

I suppose all the hookers

will go into mourning.

Yeah,

wear black underwear.

Shame on you. Shame.

A poor little crazy fellow's

sitting there alone

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