Park Row (1952) - full transcript

This is Johannes Gutenberg
who invented moveable type...

500 years ago and printed the first Bible.

Recognised as the
father of modern printing...

Gutenberg stands on Park Row, the most
famous newspaper street in the world...

where giants of journalism
mix blood and ink...

to make history
across the front page of America.

Our story takes place in New York,
in the lusty days of the Golden Eighties.

When Park Row was the birthplace
and graveyard of great headlines.

The street of America's first world famous
journalist, a printer's devil who helped...

draft the Declaration of Independence and
was one of its signers Benjamin Franklin.

Patron saint of Park Row.



And, it is the street of Phineas Mitchell.

That will be alright officer, the new license
will be here first thing in the morning.

What do you got?

Gin fizz Rainbow, Eggnog, Alabazam,
Gin Rickey, Roya Fiz, Mint Julep...

Shandygaff, Tom & Jerry,
Tom Collins, Pousse Cafe, Brainduster...

Claret Punch, Whiskey Sour,
Brandy Toddy, Happy Moment...

Whiskey Sling, Port Sangaree,
Blue Blazer, Catawba Punch...

Sherry Cobbler Absinthe Frappe,
Hannibal Hanlin, Sitting Bull Fizz...

Manhattan Cooler, New Orleans Punch,
Manhattan Cocktail, Bowery Cocktail...

- Printer's Ink, Sheep Dip, what you have?
- Beer.

And now, if you want to make
such progress in our profession...

why don't you go work on The World?

Pulitzer is introducing a lot of new things.

It's a fine newspaper Mr Hudson, but
I'm not a journalist, I'm a machinery.



I'm interested in the problems of setting
type by hand and how slow this is.

Go away, Hackett is getting The Star
out faster than any paper in the country.

You gentlemen always manage to become
involved in katzenjammer over journalism.

I've learned there are 4 subjects
one should never argue about...

anthropology, bird calls,
romance and of course, newspapers.

You have become a
wonderful legend Mr Davenport.

It's tragic to remain a living legend Mr
Mergenthaler, people only respect the dead.

Often I feel guilty
in taking such a long time to die.

But I shall not die until
I'm ready to forsake Park Row.

- Which is already forsaken me.
- Mitch, how about being your pleasure?

Jenny, a keg-drainer,
stick of straight, schooner chaser.

Mitch, you got brains.

Told me, how can a character like me
get to be a character enough to...

be written up in your paper?

Probably, the prime minister
stole a photograph idea from you.

Look gentlemen I'm serious, I can sing
and dance, I got a wonderful personality.

In fact I got all the
makings of a delightful character.

Just because I'm not famous,
people think I'm a bummer.

Jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

You'll push Ireland's home
rule out off the front page.

- Or you'd be cock on the walk.
- Be the talk of New York.

You know, that's a wonderful idea, the
splash would be heard around the world.

And I'd be happy for the fellow who
jumped off Brooklyn Bridge to marry my Jenny.

Then I be a widow before I got
married, don't listen to him Steve.

You know, he's taking you serious.

You know, it's only 120 little
feet from the bridge to the water.

Now, that isn't much of a leap but
long enough to make you a celebrity.

And when you open your own place you
can advertise, the longest bar in the world.

Steve Brody's 120-foot bar.

- Ain't see it, Steve?

- Yeah, I can see it.
- Papa?

Longest bar in the world.

I'll have a couple
of drinks and think it over.

Certainly me boy, certainly.
Jenny, a couple of Anniversaire for Mr Brody.

- That story really bothers you, doesn't it?
- Yeah.

What you going to do
about it? Buy a handkerchief?

No.

Who's crying in your beer
about Charlie Mott? He's dead.

Well, they hanged the wrong person, should've
broken Hackett's neck on the gallows.

- Where you going?
- Potters Fields Oaks.

- Going to claim a body?
- No, going to lose my job.

Grave people reported that a habitue of...

this concert hall had the gall to sneak
into Potters Field tonight and nail...

a plaque to the cross of one Charles
Mott, executed by the state, for murder.

I had it removed.

Would it be very simple to dispatched
someone here but I personally would like...

confront the man responsible for
this accusation against me and my newspaper.

- Every man is entitled to an epitaph.
- I nailed it to his cross.

- Ah? The ghoul himself.
- I'm a newspaperman.

- On what paper?
- Your paper.

He works for The Star Miss Hackett.

What do you do?
Shuffle refuse behind the circulation wrap?

- Editorials department.
- What's your name?

Phineas Mitchell.

Phineas Mitchell?
There is no Phineas Mitchell on my paper.

Firing me won't help the way
you've prostituted journalism.

I'm not running the gallows,
I'm running a newspaper.

- He was tried by your paper.
- He was tried by a jury.

- You sprung the trap.
- I simply broke the story.

The story broke his neck.

- What was Charles Mott to you?
- Nothing.

I just don't like trial by a newspaper
I call a contemptible publication.

I call it peddling papers.

You'd use corpses to peddle papers
till the readers found out what a...

frustrated journalistic fraud you are.

Publishers like you that give anarchists the
ammunition to try and stifle a free press.

- Mr Spiro?
- Yes Miss Hackett?

- This defiler of graves, who employed him?
- I did.

- Why?
- He's a newspaperman.

And the best.

Oh, I have seen this
global monument somewhere.

- He's Jeff Hudson, editorial.
- There's no Jeff Hudson on my paper, this?

- I don't know him.
- That?

Thomas Guest, cartoonist, unemployed.

Mr Davenport, it displeases
me to see you with this group.

Charity my dear, you've
made of yourself a newspaper...

jackal feasting at the grave
of a man you helped to execute.

The Star reported facts, nothing else.

The day The Star reports facts,
Judas Iscariot will be sainted.

Greeley turns over in his grave
every time you go to press.

Oh, another disciple of Horace Greeley.

Mr. Spiro...

escort this wench back
to her slaughterhouse before I...

throw her out of here
right on her front page.

Angel Dew, goes down like water
and comes up like Nobel's dynamite.

Jenny, I've done it, I've done it, I've done
it Jenny, I've done the quest, I've done it.

- Done what?
- I jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge.

- Not a single bone broken, you're a liar.
- I've done and I got witnesses.

That's you over stuffed slime
wrangler, I've done it and I lived.

And that's what makes you hotter
than a boiled sausage in a split bowl.

Jenny honey, I'll be a celebrity
tomorrow when people read about me.

- And you'll be the proud girl on my arm.
- Oh, you could've be...

Let's put it in the newspaper, put it in the
newspaper, Steve Brody, proud of The Bowery.

Aristocrat of the Fourth Ward, jumps off the
Brooklyn Bridge and lives to tell about it.

You should've seen me,
I was standing there looking down...

looking down at the
bottom, 120 feet to death.

The longest jump ever made by man.

It's a long jump for nothing
Steve, I was fired from The Star.

You was fired?

I couldn't get anything
in that paper unless I died.

Alright Jeff, you put it. Look,
I'm standing there see, I'm looking down...

- I was fired too.
- Oh, come on...

Hold your horses, hold your horses.

Ain't there a working
newspaper man that stands to get...

to cover the greatest feat in history?

It's inside I need relief
and nothing mix with water.

- I don't keep your bathtub full of water.
- Papa?

- Not before he puts a chip on the bar.
- He'll get sick and die.

I'll stake him to a stone.

Papa, you want me to tell them where you got
that pretty figure tucked away off caucus?

Would you inform on your own father?

I tell them how I lace you up every morning.

Alright, alright, give him a drink.

I've been studying you Jenny.
How you like me to draw your picture?

Well, I was thinking of
having her picture across the bar.

- Are you going to draw it on the wall?
- On a head of beer.

Hey, I'll split your mainbrace if you
give my girl here that sort of talk.

No offense Steve, remember
the face on the bar room floor?

- I'm going to draw a face on a head of beer.
- Four bits you can't.

Put the chip on the bar.

There's the groom, now let me see the bride.

A large schooner Jenny,
with a big head, that's fine.

Nothing is to it when
you know what you're doing.

Perfectly easy Jenny,
you're pretty as a picture.

See?

The trick is this indelible pencil,
take it and draw yourself a picture.

What's the good of writing anything
if you haven't got a paper to put it in?

You know what I'd do if I had a paper?

Ah, here we go again
day-dreaming at night and sober.

No Mitch, what would you do?

The first thing I'd do
is christen it, I'd call it The Globe.

I'd make it the best newspaper
on Park Row, that's what I'd do.

I'd give away free ice,
coal, summer excursions.

Christmas dinners for the poor that'd
make them happy and make news.

News makes readers, readers makes circulation
and circulation makes advertising.

And advertising means I'd print my paper
without the support of any political machine.

- That's what I'd do if I had a newspaper.
- Would you give me a job?

What Hackett pay you?

- 18 a week.
- I'd double it.

- You'd pay me $36 a week?
- Sure.

If I had a newspaper.

Why don't you dream up your own
newspaper Jeff and give yourself $100 a week?

- Mr. Mitchell?
- Yeah?

For 3 years every night, I've been listening
to what you do if you had a newspaper.

- Don't you like it Mr Leach?
- I like it very much.

You're the job printer
got a shop in The Times, that right?

- Tribune.
- Oh, yeah.

I don't make up my mind quickly
Mr Mitchell but when I do, I act.

Your dream kept me
awake nights and I make my decision.

You sure O'Rourke's whiskey
hasn't gone to your ceiling?

Like you, I never trust
anything stronger than beer.

If I were interviewing you, I'd have
nothing so far, what you driving at?

All my life I wanted to be
what you are, a newspaperman.

What you can do, I can't.
What you need, I got.

What I dream about, you are.

I got a good steam press, I
got a little credit for type foundry.

I got a little newsprint, got a little cash.

I want to go into partnership Mr Mitchell.
You be editor and publisher of the newspaper.

I'll be printer and handle the business end.

You got the heart, I got the hands.

You got the head, I got the press.

What do you say?

- A paper of my own.
- Yeah.

- And I'd be editor.
- Yeah.

And I do no man's bidding.

If you run the paper the way you
want to run it and answer to no one.

- Can I name it?
- Yes, you can name it Mr. Mitchell.

Is it a deal?

- Yeap.
- You got yourself a newspaper.

Don't worry Jeff, you're
on the staff, I promised.

- 36 a week.
- 30 what? 15 a week.

$15? Well, you promised
me 36 if you had a paper.

- Was a different paper.
- It was a pro.

- It was a different issue...
- Oh, no, no...

Alright, 18 a week...
Ever draw for a paper Tom?

- No.
- You're on The Globe, 15 a week.

- Spent all your money yet Mr Leach?
- You getting close.

You know what? What I need now
is a good reporter like Mr Davenport.

No Mitch, you need young blood to
bring life to a newspaper just born.

I could use some old blood too.

- Like have them on The Globe.
- Steve hear, the cops.

Get out of the way, anybody in
here have seen Steve Brody?

- He ain't here, he's down at Lizzy the Duck.
- What do you want of him officer?

He's broken the law, he just
jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge.

- Any witnesses see him jump?
- I saw him.

Oh, we're wasting our time,
let's go down to Lizzy the Duck.

Wait a minute officer.

Is this the man who jumped?

Well, I don't know what his name is
but he's the fellow which jumped.

Take him away.

Mitch, Mitch you're a quirk, you're a Judas.

- It's me Brody, your bosom pal.
- Lock him in The Tombs.

Mitch you fake, you and your
newspaper, you're a snake in the grass.

- All you reporters are snakes in the grass.
- Throw the keys away.

Oh Mitch, how could you've done it Mitch?
How could you've done it to my Steve, Mitch?

This be Brody's story, on page one.

On the bridge and safety, Steve Brody
drops 120 feet to the water below.

Arrested, locked in The Tombs.

When I get the follow up?

- The Globe frees Brody from The Tombs.
- The officer won't like this.

The readers will.

- Make it 6 columns, 6 pages.
- You're shaving close.

4 pages, alright
Mr. Leach, let's get to the office.

Look Mr Mitchell, I got
printer's ink in me too, see.

You got a chore-boy?

No, just Mr Angelo and me,
we take care of the shop.

- I run the press and he sets type.
- Who's Mr Angelo?

This is Mr Angelo.

Rusty, there's only one opening on The Globe.

You know the difference between a
guideline, a key line, a 40 to 4 stick stone?

- Yes Sir.
- No you don't, but you're going to learn.

You're printer's devil.

- From now on Rusty, you're a newspaperman.
- Yes sir.

You got a key Mr Leach?

Fine, we're putting The Globe to bed tonight.
Meet you all in your office in 5 minutes.

5 minutes, Mr Davenport.

Beautiful Mr. Leach, great place to work.

Plenty of room for our
hard hitting competent staff.

Rusty, get all the papers,
don't only get The Star.

And get rid of that shoe-shine box.

Well, you heard it
Mr Leach, where's all your type?

Looks like we'll have to set up
all our stories in a couple of inches.

Oh, when that types is sorted up,
we'll have enough to handle the paper.

Most of our jobs is been handbills and cards.

- How much paper we got?
- Oh, couple of half bundles in the back.

I didn't figure you'd
want to go to press so soon.

Paper plants are all closed now.

Volume 1, Number 1,
hit the street in the morning.

Say, what's a job printer like
you doing with such a big press?

I once tried to run a weekly.

I just didn't have what
it takes to put out a paper.

That press come between
me and my wife many a time.

She finally got to go fond of it too.

- Jeff...
- Yeah, what is it Mitch?

Your brother is a butcher
over on William St, isn't he?

No, my brother in law, why?

How much butcher paper can you get from him?

Butcher paper?

Yeah, we're short of
newsprint and borrow his wagon.

Oh, he's a mercenary.

Tell him the Globe
will take care of the bill.

- You don't know my brother in law.
- Oh, here's all the cash I've got on me.

Alright, everybody chip in, come on.

That's it.

Drive the wagon up in the alley,
that'll be our circulation department.

- Give him a hand Tom.
- Alright, here we go.

Alright, let's all pile
in and sort this type.

Everybody grab a handful.

- Here the papers Mr Mitchell.
- Where's my change?

- Can I help?
- Yeap.

You might as well start
learning how to sort pied type now.

- Pied?
- It means when your type is a mix up mess.

It'll be no time before
you handle the hell box.

What's that?

This is the hell box, everything is
thrown in it, it'll be your job clean it up.

And that's why you're call a printer's devil.

Because you'll be living out of the hell box.

Were you ever a printer's devil Mr Davenport?

Yes Rusty, I was apprentice.

As a matter of fact I was 2 years
younger than when Horace Greeley started.

He walked 11 miles to get that job.

I walked 18.

I was with him when he built this building.

Right where you're standing.

Right where your shoes are.

Used to be the home of another
great editor Benjamin Franklin.

That's why Ben is out there
on Printing house Square.

To see that nothing
ever goes wrong on Park Row.

- Say Tom...
- Yes sir?

- You know what that is?
- A stove?

It's no stove Tom, that's your office.

Now give me a drawing of
Steve Brody jumping off the bridge...

being arrested and dragged off
to The Tombs by the police.

Take it over to Duffy's Engraving, get a
woodcut, 4 columns. Wait for it, pay for it.

- I'll take care of you later.
- Right.

Mr Davenport, write me the Brody story.

No name ranks higher
than that of Steve Brody.

Make him a hero,
bring tears because he was jailed.

- You shall have molasses in every paragraph.
- Mr Mergenthaler...

Yeah?

About that machine, we'll pick it up
in the morning, have it ready, eh?

Rusty, give Mr Leach a hand.

- Jeff...
- Here.

- Steal everything you can but make it fresh.
- Make it fresh.

Rusty, hey Rusty, bring me that oilcan.

They got a new zinc process
to publish black and white drawings.

- What about it?
- Not for us. Let's have it.

- Over like humor magazine.
- Zinc, eh?

So that's how they get such nice lines
for Charles Dana Gibson illustrations.

Gibson is getting as much
as 4 or 5 dollars a drawing.

You're getting a steady 15 a
week Tom, you're better off than Gibson.

Here the editorial Mr Angelo.

- How's it sound?
- I don't know, I don't read.

- You what?
- I can't read.

Mr Leach.

What do you want me to do?
Say that I read when I don't read?

Anybody can say that
they read when they don't read...

But I don't say that
I read when I don't read.

- Where did you find this Mr Angelo?
- He comes with the press.

Oh, I'll have to set up the
paper myself, he can't read.

How can you have a
compositor that can't read English?

Now don't get excited Mr Mitchell.

- Mr Angelo...
- Yes Mr Leach?

- Will you please follow copy sir?
- Yes Mr. Leach.

It's perfect.

Mr Angelo can't read or write but he's
the fastest typesetter on Park Row.

Mr Angelo, don't ever change, the day
you learn how to read, you're fired.

I've seen a bunch of volumes 1, numbers 1,
this is beautiful make-up Mitch.

Greeley started with 40 dollars
credit Bennett started in a cellar.

- But you're in good company Mitch.
- How come you never got to be an editor?

Edmund Bourke, about 20 years before I was
born, stood up in parliament and said...

There were 3 estates of the realm,
the peers, the bishops, the commoners...

Then he looked in the reporters' gallery
and said, yonder there sits the 4th Estate.

More important, far, than they are.

Somebody is got to go
out and get the news Mitch.

People like me get it, people like
you see that it gets to the readers.

Some men are born
editors, some are born reporters.

But a fighting editor
is a voice this world needs.

A man with ideals.

And the joy of working
for an ideal, is the joy of living.

I know.

Price, one penny.

4 pages, not bad, not bad.

Oh Mr Bennett, Mr Greeley...

Mr Raymond, Dana, Pulitzer...

What are Mr Dana and Mr Pulitzer
doing on your walls? They're living.

They're your rivals, your contemporaries.

Dead or alive, they're still
the best publishers on Park Row.

- One penny.
- Oh?

I'm so sorry.

Now tell me, what do you
really think of The Globe?

Volume 1 Number 1, this is a stallion busting
out of its stall, bristling with news.

- This is a newspaperman's newspaper.
- It'll die like all the rest of them.

The others weren't printed on butcher paper.

Yes?

I apologise for disturbing you Miss Hackett.

Now, I'm not a journalist but this is
definitely an outrage to all newspapers.

I can't understand why Mr Spiro dislikes me.

Oh, the entire editorial
department dislikes you Mr Wiley...

because in you they see
the business executioner.

- My first loyalty is to you.
- That's why they have contempt for you.

Your first loyalty should be to The Star.

- Is this a new kind of a printing press?
- No, I'm trying to compose type.

- Type? Type like this?
- Yes.

You mean, you talk to
this machine and you make this?

Mr Angelo, today it is
possible for a man to tap keys.

Write what he thinks
Nd it comes out on paper.

You've heard of this
machine, the typewriter...

- I don't know.
- I have watched you work.

You are fine, the fastest
compositor that I have seen.

But it takes such long time for
the printer to put his text into type.

I think to help
progress of printing, it is better...

if there is a machine that can do
what you do, faster, very much faster.

Begging your pardon.

If you can make this do what you say, you
smart like Mr Gutenberg, go with this?

You got 400 years on him Mr
Mergenthaler, that's quite an advantage.

No man bettered Gutenberg.

Many people have tried.

You think he can make with that
machine what he wants to make?

Sure, he's a watchmaker...

He has the golden
touch for delicate machinery.

Sometimes I don't know
what he's saying, the way he speaks.

- What you mean?
- He's not clear, he speaks with big accent.

You know what I think? If he can make
that machine work the way he says...

- You don't need me to set type.
- Oh, you'll learn how to operate it.

- You got to know how to read to operate it?
- You know as much about it as I do.

Don't worry about
it, you're not getting fired.

How can I be fired? I no got pay yet.

You give me a job and
I do it, I pay you money.

I don't know if I like
this work on a newspaper.

The newsboys want to know
when we're coming out again.

What you tell them?

I told them we're putting
The Globe to bed tonight.

And coming off the
same time tomorrow morning.

Fine, how's the bank account Mr Leach or do
we come out with another porterhouse edition?

We'll be lucky to get enough paper
together to get out a rump roast edition.

- Better start breaking up the pages.
- - Come on Mr Angelo.

Yes Mr Leach.

- How's Brody?
- He's alright now.

Jeff, get the Bowery Boys
and get them over to The Tombs...

- Get my hands on him.
- Yeap.

- Rusty, get the plug-uglies over there.
- Yes sir.

I think I have a story, made a few notes,
I'll give it to you right off the cuff.

- Torts, arms, what is this?
- Part of that statue, the gift from France.

- What about it?
- It's on display now in Madison Square.

Yeah, we'll go over it later, right
now I got to write the Brody follow up.

You better stir up the members of the
Dead Rabbits too, get them over there.

Now you'll have 3 rival
gangs congregated in The Tombs.

Yeah, Brody belongs to all of them.

What's the matter?

- Must we have a riot just to get a story?
- I didn't say I wanted a riot.

Man jumps off a bridge and dies,
there's nothing they can do about it.

If he lives, they throw him in the clink.

In this case, Brody is
a hero, you can't deny that.

There won't be any riot.

Is all you have?

The Republican anti saloon
movement in New Jersey is spreading.

Democratic majority in the House
to reduce the number of employees.

This just a little party capital, during fall
elections, I want something controversial.

There's a rumor that The Globe is
getting Brody out of The Tombs tonight.

So? Well, we're back to Mr Mitchell again.

- You like him, don't you?
- I respect him.

Brody broke the law, take my word for it,
The Globe isn't strong enough to free him.

Tell me something about
this stallion bristling news.

Where did he come from? Who are his parents?

Is he married? Engaged? Divorced?

How he get a start? What is he want?

All that I can tell you about him is every
year produces one great newspaperman.

The stock isn't as good as your first issue.

Wrapping paper, I made
the rounds of the shoe shops.

You know what's very exciting Mr Mitchell,
you came out with Brody's jump this morning.

Tonight you have another edition with
his release, two issues in the same day.

Remarkable, only page 1
is been changed though.

Once I get my hands on
enough type, paper and ink...

I'll come out with 2, 3
maybe even 4 editions a day.

Just change the front page.

You know Mr Mitchell, I've been
giving you a great deal of thought...

Me too, a lot of thought.

Don't you like what
you've been thinking about?

Is that the only dress you got?

Oh it's good makeup Miss
Hackett, nice form,

nice balance,
pretty as a perfect front page.

- Thank you.
- But you remind me of the obituary column.

You're always in black.

- The copy is in, how come you're not in bed?
- I couldn't sleep.

I've been going over
these notes you scrawled.

- How come you left your cuff here?
- Oh, I have an extra cuff.

Eiffel? Is that the same Eiffel
that's building that tower in Paris?

Yes.

- What did he have to do with the statue?
- He built the iron frame.

De Lesseps...

You've been eating at
Dinny's Beef & Bean again.

The same De Lesseps that
built the Suez Canal?

Yes, he had something to do with the Suez.

What's this about a subscription?

The Franco-American Union raised 1 million
francs for Bartholdi to build the monument.

- How much is that?
- 350,000 dollars.

Why they build it?

To cement the friendship of two great
republics, France and the United States.

A gift from a people to a people,
not from a government to a government.

So the people of France actually
donated their own money to build the statue?

That's right.

What's this about a torch in Madison Square?

Congress passed a
resolution accepting the statue.

But declined to grant a
subsidy for the necessary base.

The head is at The Battery,
the body is on South Street.

- Doesn't got a leg to stand on, has she?
- No Mitch, she needs a pedestal.

- How much would that cost?
- 100,000 dollars.

I am annoyed because you gentlemen seem
to lack imagination and circulation ideas.

This Mitchell has run the first front page
editorial cartoon to appear in newspapers.

Would you have run a cartoon
on the front page Miss Hackett?

Plaster The Star with
penny valentines? No, thank you.

I'd rather see my paper in Hades than
commit a frowsy woodcut to the pages.

But at least the idea would've been
born here, that's what I'm driving at.

He came out with 2 editions yesterday, on
butcher paper, wrapping paper used for shoes.

Heaven knows what kind
of paper he'll use tomorrow.

Now he's offering to publish
the name of every subscriber.

No matter how small or large the amount...

pennies or dollars,
rich people or poor people.

Oh Mr Wiley, there's a German in
this country experimenting...

with a machine to compose foundry type.

- Find him and get him.
- You mean Mergenthaler?

Yes, that's his name. You know where he is?

Yes, he's working
on his machine at The Globe.

- Ottmar Mergenthaler? He's at The Globe?
- Yes.

- G?ten Morgen, wie geht es Ihnen?
- Wie geht es Ihnen?

Herr Mergenthaler? Mein name
ist fr?ulein Hackett, Von The Star.

If you don't mind I prefer to speak English.

Of course.

Mergenthaler, you know, I knew a
Herr Mergenthaler in W?rttemberg.

Oh, you have been to
W?rttemberg? That is where I am from.

In Germany it's Merkantaler, in
America Mergenthaler, it's easier to say.

Oh, I like the people there
but I don't like Stuttgart.

Who likes Stuttgart?

You know there's some
talk on the street about the...

greatest invention in the history of
printing since Gutenberg, if it works.

Yeah, if it works.

The whole idea is to
enter the dream of all printers.

A machine that will end the hard
and slow work of setting type by hand.

This is now my dream too.

Well I suppose you know that Mark Twain
is also working on a typesetting machine.

- The Paige Patent.
- Yeah, I know.

I've heard that Mark
said it'll be able to do

everything but drink,
smoke and go on strike.

Can yours?

Oh, it's so complicated,
perhaps it will even talk.

I shall try to follow the conversation.

Why not? Perhaps you will have
the answer I am looking for.

I call this a blower machine.

I call it that because the matrices
up here are moved down to here.

They are blown down by an air-blast,
when I touch one of these keys.

You mean you cast your own
type when you touch those keys?

Then a bar of lead is melted so that the...

justifier forces hot
lead against the metal...

and it forms the type. See, the
face of the type is in perspective.

How long would it take
you to set up a column of type?

Oh, as long as takes 12, 15, maybe
even 20 of your printers by hand.

Then it would be no trouble at all
to get out more than one issue a day?

Nothing.

With 10, 20 maybe 40 of these machines...

I could have a circulation of
a million daily, maybe 2 million.

Yeah, the big problem now
is to separate the paper from the metal...

- Sticks together and the type is not clear.
- Oh, we must solve that problem.

I'm going to help you all I can
Mr Mergenthaler, I've a great newspaper.

And once we baptize this new
machine, we'll make newspaper history.

Have a lot of room for you in Composing.

My men could move this
machine over without turning a wheel.

I'll give you all the support
you need, money, parts, assistance.

What's the matter?

Miss Hackett, I'm only interested
in the progress of journalism.

Of course.

I would give you this machine for
nothing if The Star were a great newspaper.

It's not great, it's not a newspaper.

It's a cheap collection of words
and garbage you call journalism...

- that will die.
- What are you? A parrot or an inventor?

If you have mechanical genius, use it.

You're too brilliant a man to ape Mr Mitchell
and repeat his little paragraphs of envy.

I like you Mr Mergenthaler, I respect you.

And I want you.

But understand, that
unless The Star gets this machine...

all your hard work
will be buried on Park Row.

Without a trial or a tombstone.

Miss Hackett...

if I need a tombstone
friend Mitch will buy it for me...

like he bought one for you.

That's much better, makes you look much
younger, don't you think so Mr Vandenberg?

Yes.

- Did he turn you down Charity?
- Did who turn her down?

Obviously she didn't come
over here to visit our steam press.

She could've come over to visit me.

No Mitch, she's not that
interested in morals of an editor.

I have a sneaking suspicion she just...

failed in attempt to shanghai Mr
Mergenthaler away from the Globe.

- Is the editor here?
- I'm the editor.

I want to give a penny
for the Statue of Liberty.

- Oh, thank you very much, what's your name?
- Martha Downs.

Poppa said I was a good girl
for giving my penny to the Globe.

- Rusty...
- Yes sir?

You give Miss Downs a Globe receipt for
one penny For the Statue of Liberty fund.

Miss Hackett, would you care
to donate a substantial sum?

Not that I elect The Star but at least
there was some privacy for a man to think.

You know, the separate little cells
you've been working in, are all wrong.

We going to have a real editorial
department, with everybody in one office.

And I can see what's going on, sit down Jeff.

- Got plenty of room?
- Yeah, plenty.

That's your copy desk,
from now on you're in the slock.

When you going to get a telegraph Mitch?

It's a lot more important than taking
down these walls, we need a wire service.

I was over at Associated Press, you know
what they want for their service, for a week?

- 300 dollars.
- Well, the AP is worth it.

Sure, sure, I was just thinking if
I had 300 dollars what would I do?

I'd get myself a lot of good newsprint,
the finest paper money could buy.

And I'd come out with a
real headline, big, bold, 120 point.

- Where would you get such big type Mitch?
- I'd make it, cut it out of wood myself.

- Yeah, it will have to be a big story.
- Mr. Davenport...

when you ran a story, why do
you always put 30 at the bottom?

30 is a symbol to all printers...

and it means it's the end of
the story, there isn't any more.

Is it hard to tell with the story?

Well, if you see a dog
running down the street...

with a can tied to its tail, that's nothing.

But if it stops, turns around,
unties the can and throws it away...

- that's a story.
- Yeah, I'd like to have a dog like that.

You want to bet? You got
a lot of them right here, type lice.

That lice?

Yeah, they are little teeny weeny
insects and they live right inside here.

And they get fed by
the ink that sticks to the type.

You never see them Rusty?
Ah, they have a lot of fun and play games.

Can I look at them?

I don't know, if Mr Mitchell think you
got ink in your blood, you can look.

- Can I look at them Mr Mitchell?
- What do you think Mr Davenport?

Rusty, why do we put 30 at the end of copy?

Because it's the end
of the story, there ain't no more.

- Alright Mr Angelo, let him look.
- Look down Rusty, way down.

Now you're a real printer's devil.

Type lice? There always will be type
lice, even if my machine will work.

There'll always be type lice.

He got to do something
about increasing circulation.

Yeah, a lot of people tried to figure
out new methods of selling papers.

- You know, I've been thinking about fish.
- Fish?

Yeah, they got fish carts out there
and they sell fish right on the street.

What's fish got to do with newspapers?

Oh, why not sell papers
from a pushcart? Have a stand.

Newsstand, a Globe newsstand.

I do not write words be peddled from
the street from a pushcart like fish.

What do you think Mr Davenport?

Well I think there's sufficient
wood in here for at least 3 newsstands.

- You mind Mr Leach?
- No, might be able to squeeze 4 out of it.

We'd use the room anyway.

Hey Mr. Mitchell, there is the
Frenchman, he's going into The Star.

Yeah, yeah, that's the Frenchman
who's connected with the statue alright.

Maybe Hackett is going to give
him a big check for the pedestal.

Yeah, if she'd just pull the curtains,
we could see what was going on.

C'est Les bonne mani?res n'?xistent pas.
Vous, vous Les auriez en fran?ais.

Mademoiselle, vraimont, je Na sais Que dire.

Mais, il est tr?s difficile Du
croire, qu'on vrai gentil homme...

pourrait aussi ?tre un hypocrite.

- Mais pardon, je Ne comprends pas de tout.
- Tout Ceci, c'est Du camouflage.

- Du, Du camouflage?
- Camouflage.

Oh, pardon monsieur, she's
going to tell the whole world...

that my country gave America
the statue just to camouflage a loan.

Just a minute Mr Dessard, did she say
when she was going to tell the world?

- O??
- No, no, when.

When is she going to tell the world?

Now you got to be exact Mr Dessard,
a newspaper has to be factual.

Now, this is a very important story
but is no good unless we get the facts.

- Demain, tomorrow.
- You're sure?

- Oui, oui, tomorrow.
- Tom...

- Yes sir?
- Get pen and paper.

You're going to draw
a picture of a beautiful woman.

I want an extra 10,000
copies on the street this morning.

They're loading the wagons right now.

You'll be the first paper out today.

Oh, you look pleased with the editorial Mr
Spiro, changed your mind about being factual?

I'm looking at The Globe.

He's not only beat you with your own story...

but he's been out
on the street for 15 minutes.

And there's something else new, Newsstands.

And every one of them is marked The Globe.

- How was the banquet?
- Fat with news.

I wrote down a few highlights.

The choice is yours.

- AF what?
- AFL.

American Federation of
Labor, it was organized tonight.

The Printer's Union is joined it.

The other side of the cuff Mitch,
that's an interesting item too.

- ANPA.
- American Newspaper Publishers Association.

It'll officially be an organization at the
end of this year or the beginning next.

- Got a list of the publishers?
- You should've been there.

I likes to met men
like Pulitzer, Dana Bennett...

Reid, Jones of The Times.

Was she alone?

I didn't think that was
important enough to notice.

Just a question, I thought maybe she
was with some out of town publisher.

No, she was alone as usual.

Does that type of woman appeal to you?

Look Mr Davenport, you're an
old man but you're not senile.

That's why I hired you,
you're very virile mentally.

And a question like that isn't
exactly proof of mental virility.

- What do you think of her?
- I don't, as long as you're on the subject.

- Is very little I can add.
- 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, 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, that lasted unto her death.

Her face was better than all the
letters of recommendation in the world.

Poise, a privilege of nature...

Her voice, 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.

Or 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.

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.
- Oh, I agree Miss Hackett.

Then why haven't you done something about it?

I have no jurisdiction over the
editorial policy of this newspaper.

Oh, 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.

Mich, they're breaking
up our newsstands, come on.

Where's Hackett?

Mitch, 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?
- How you like it Mitch?

You wanted an different editorial
department so I turned his desk around...

and now you can see
everything that's going on.

- Alright, where's Leach?
- He got a Buttercake Dick's brewery wagon.

Went to South Street at the fish
market to try and get some paper.

Oh, 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.

Wait now, 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
from coming out every day.

You 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 is an affront
to me and an insult to The Star.

What do you want?

Look, you're certain
that I was responsible for...

this circulation war, that's not important.

What important
is that you and I have a truce.

A little late for waving a white flag,
we've already suffered a casualty.

There'll be more casualties
if we don't stop the violence.

Heard you went 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 is 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.

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

Or maybe little Mr Angelo, you 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 that 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.
- Oh, here is my receipt.

- Where you get this?
- What 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
got a good name. I don't like your tone.

I gave 5 dollars in good faith.

Now, 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 dollars 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 dollars for the pedestal and not
a single mention of my name in The Globe.

And my husband
gave 50 Mr Mitchell, 50 dollars.

- Do you get your money back George?
- No, I didn't.

Mitchell, I've been
around this street a long time.

And I hate seeing a paper
using its pages to cheat the public.

I gave 7 dollars 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 that 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, antagonizes 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? Want to give some
boodle for the Liberty statue?

Just give me what you can,
and I'll call you patriotic.

Sure, I'm patriotic,
and here's a dollar mister.

Here's your receipt.

Watch The Globe paper for your name.

- Come on Red.
- Wait a minute.

Don't you want to see the first barmaid
in America make a you special drink?

No, no, we got to go.

Oh, I'll make you a
Blue Blazer, on the house.

You can make a blue blazer?

Can I make a Blue Blazar? I can
make the best Blue Blazer you ever had.

Anybody that's
giving money for that pedestal...

then they deserve more than a Blue Blazer.

Well, you know what?
I got lots of patriotic customers here.

I bet you I can get you
20 dollars for that pedestal.

- 20?
- Got any more of them receipts?

Oh, we have.

My father gave 10 dollars for the statue.

I heard today that
Ed Shaunessy, the music impresario...

from Delmonico's gave
100 dollars for the Statue Of Liberty.

And my father's brother
gave 20 dollars for the statue.

And his brothers all
gave 30 dollars for the statue.

If you give more of them receipts I'll get
some for you, I'll make you Jenny's Special.

Brandy mashes with a shot of Alabazam.

Gentlemen, wasn't that worth waiting for?
That's what I call a Blue Blazer.

With a shot of
Alabazam and a shot of Sangaree.

As a matter of fact I even put in
a little printer's ink and sheep dip...

because you're so patriotic.

Now, that's what you call a Blue Blazer.

- Was that worth waiting for?
- Yeah.

That's a Blue Blazer mixed with a shot
of Alabazam and a shot of Sangaree.

You sure they're on the house?

Sure they're on the
house for anybody that's patriotic.

Steve, here's the guy that's
been passing them forged receipts.

You know what I did to the
man who ran over the kid's legs...

I'll crush your head in with
this unless you tell me who's...

paying you to pass those Liberty receipts.

You can't scare me,
Wiley of The Star is behind me.

I ain't afraid of you or your paper.

That's the story I want.

Turn him over to the federal
authorities and we'll pick up the newsprint.

Mr Davenport, I want you to
write the story exposing Hackett.

You tell the readers that there'll be a...

Statue of Liberty on
Bedloes Island on less than 60 days.

I guess that's the big story
for your 120 point headline.

Don't tell me about it Mr
Davenport, write it.

Are you hurt? Are you alright?

Hey Jack, give me that pail of beer.

- Mr. Merganthler, you alright?
- Yeah.

- What about Mr Davenport?
- He was gone before it happened.

Gone where?

He wrote the story, he said
goodnight and then went home.

Alright, give me a hand,
let's get him in the other room.

- Easy now, easy.
- Careful.

- Are you alright Mr Mergenthaler?
- Yeah, yeah.

- You get a good look at any of them?
- No, they were to fast.

They had it all figured out like clockwork.
Each man knew where to hurt it most.

Well, it just mean we
come out a little later, that's all.

Jeff, find that story Mr Davenport wrote.
Mr Angelo, let's sort out this pied type.

It'll take us a month to separate this type.

Look, they threw mailing glue all
over it, may take more than a month.

We got a lot of paper out
there, we can't let it go to waste.

- We can't afford to miss a single edition.
- Mr Davenport's story isn't here.

What you mean isn't there?
It's got to be there, someplace.

Look around over
there, I'll look on his desk.

- What is it Mr Mitchell?
- Mr Davenport's obituary.

- Who wrote it Mr. Mitchell?
- Mr Davenport.

Read it Mr Mitchell.

Josiah Davenport 75, Journalist...

died today, at peace with Park Row.

The search for a man to carry on
the fire for Horace Greeley...

was successful. His last words
were written to this man, quote.

Phineas Mitchell, The Globe.

In most countries there is no freedom
of the press, in the United States, there is.

It's freedom was born in 1734,
in the libel trial of John Peter Zenger...

printer and publisher
of the New York Weekly Journal.

He was acquitted by a jury.

When anyone threatens
your freedom to print the truth...

think of Zenger,
Franklin Bennett and Greeley.

Think of them, fight for what
they fought for and died for.

Don't let anyone ever tell you what to print.

Don't take advantage of your free press.

Use it judiciously, for
your profession and your country.

The press is good or evil according to
the character of those who direct it.

And The Globe is a good newspaper.

I've put off dying waiting
for a new voice that would be heard.

You are that new voice Mr Mitchell.

And now that I've found a man worthy
enough to die for, I'm ready to die.

The old press is silent.

If there's a place where newspapermen
go and a last edition is put to bed...

I want to be there to hear the roar of
The Globe, the thunder of the type.

I want to be there, still covering the story
on the cuff of the last of the survivors...

who saw American journalism born on Park Row.

30.

- It's hot.
- It's type.

- Can you make a sentence?
- Yeah.

Go ahead.

- What you call this Mr Mergenthaler?
- Line of type.

Mr Leach, get that press beating.
Mr Angelo, railroad those forms.

Steve, get that butcher paper in there.
Jeff, get started on the copy.

We'll put Mr Davenport's obituary
right on page 1 and we'll box it.

I'll write the Hackett expose.

Mr Mergenthaler,
if I give you my story right here...

can you get the words out
of your line o'type as I talk?

Yeah. Line o'type, that's a
good name for my machine.

Here's your lead.

The press...

is good or evil...

according to the character...

of those who direct it.

And now that the story is revealed...

The Globe will continue it's subscription
drive for the Lady in New York Bay.

- Hey Jeff.
- Yeah.

Look at that, special Sunday Extra.

Fourth of July, look
at that headline, 120 point.

- Look at that paper.
- In Linotype.

This is history Jeff, this is history.

- How's the press, will she live?
- She's in bad shape.

There'll be no
Globe out tomorrow Mr Mitchell.

Well...

you can all start looking for new jobs.

Sure is a wake for the dead.

What plans I had for you?

This was just the beginning,
so many things I wanted to...

to print, fight...

expose.

Make history together.

We started something new, newspaper business.

Had it all figured out.

All figured out, repletes...

newsstands, railroad stations..

By lines, for good writers.

Columns...

The Globe, is dead.

Long live The Globe.

Extra, extra, read all
about it, read all about it.

Extra, read all about it, extra.

I'm surprised at you
Mr Mitchell, you had a paper to put out.

And what you do? You go to a saloon.

- How did you do it?
- My machine, we had the copy.

While you were filling your belly
with schnapps I was on the Linotype.

The explosion burnt it
a little but I fixed it quickly..

- Where you get the press?
- Right across the street.

I came in here after the
explosion, I read your page one story.

I didn't order the violence, Mr Wiley did.
He blew up your press-room.

I am responsible because
I gave him the order to kill The Globe.

In doing that I
violated the Publishers' Code.

That's why I borrowed your staff for the
paper make up and I printed The Globe.

- Good ink.
- The best.

8 pages.

- Real newsprint.
- Your headline deserved it.

- How many on the street?
- 12,000.

We're doing what you always wanted to do.

By noon there'll be 4 different
editions of The Globe on the street.

And to complete the story Mr Mitchell...

I didn't commit newspaper
suicide because is love you...

Oh no, I killed my
newspaper so yours could be born.

Because I read Mr Davenport's obituary.

For the first time I really
see what you're fighting for.

That's why I'm giving you the Park Row.

And when you see
this monument on Bedloes Island...

this memorable day of October 28, 1886...

I want the whole world to know
that we have a Statue of Liberty...

because of a newspaper.