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.
The 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...
It'll be alright, officer...
The new licence will be here
first thing in the morning.
What've you got?
Gin fizz Rainbow Egg Nog Mint Julep
Tom & Jerry Tom Collins Whisky Sour...
What'll you have?
Beer!
If you want to make such progress
in our profession...
...why don't you go work on 'The World'?
Pulitzer's introducing
a lot of new things.
It's a fine newspaper, Mr Hudson...
...but I'm not a journalist...
...I'm a machinist.
I'm interested in the problems
of setting type by hand...
...and how slow this is.
Why, Hackett's getting his out
faster than any paper in the country.
Gentlemen always manage to become involved
in katzenjammer over journalism.
I have 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 am ready to forsake Park Row...
...which has already forsaken ME.
Mitch!
How about being your pleasure...
Jenny...a keg-drainer...
Stick of straight...schooner chaser.
Mitch...you've got brains...
How can a character like me
get to be a character enough...
...to be written up in your paper?
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've 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.
It'd push Ireland's Home-Rule
off the front page.
You'd be cock o' the walk!
The talk of New York!
That's a wonderful idea...
The splash 'd be heard
round the world!
And I'd be happy for the fellow
who jumped off Brooklyn Bridge...
...to marry my Jenny.
I'd be a widow before I got married...
Don't listen to him, Steve!
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!
- See it, Steve?
- Yeah...I can see it.
Hogwash!
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.
The story really bothers you...
doesn't it?
Yeah.
What are you going to do about it?
- Write a 'hankie'?
- No.
Who's crying in your beer
about Charlie Mott?
He's dead.
They've hanged the wrong person.
Should've broken Hackett's neck
on the gallows.
Where are you going?
To the cemetery.
Gonna claim a body?
Nope...gonna lose my job.
The grave people reported
that a habitu 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.
It would have been very simple
to have despatched someone here...
But I personally would like to confront
the man responsible..
...for this accusation against me
and my newspaper.
Every man's 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.
It's 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.
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.
I done it!
Done what?
I jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge!
Not a single bone broken...
you're a liar!
I got witnesses...
you over-stuffed slime-wrangler!
I 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.
Alright Mitch...put it in the newspaper...
put it in the newspaper!
Steve Brody...proudly of The Bowery...
Aristocrat of the Fourth Ward...
Jumps off the Brooklyn Bridge
and lives to tell about it!
You should have 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 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'm needing relief.
And I'm not talking water!
Not before your bar-tab's paid.
Not before he puts a chip on the bar.
He'll get sick and die!
I'll stake him to a stone.
You don't want me to tell 'em where you got
that pretty figure tucked away, off-caucus?
Would you inform
on your own father?
I'll tell 'em how I lace you up
every morning.
Alright...alright...give him a drink.
I've been studying you, Jenny.
How'd 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.
Remember the face on
the barroom floor?
I'm going to draw a face
on a head of beer.
4 bits you can't!
Put your 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's to it when you know
what you're doing.
Perfectly easy, Jenny...
You're pretty as a picture.
See!
The trick is...
it's an 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?
Here we go again...
...daydreaming 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...
Xmas dinners for the poor...
That'd make 'em happy...
It'd make news..
and 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 did 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...
For 3 years, every night, I've been listening
to what you'd do. if you had a newspaper.
Don't you like it, Mr Leach?
I like it very much.
You're that job-printer...
got a shop in 'The Times' right?
'Tribune.'
I don't make up my mind quickly,
Mr Mitchell...
But when I do...I act.
Your dream kept me awake nights.
And I made my decision.
You sure O'Rourke's whisky
hasn't gone to your head?
Like you, I never trust anything
stronger than beer.
If I were interviewing you,
I'd have nothing so far...
What are 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've got.
What I dream about...you are.
I've got a good steam press.
I've got a little credit for type-foundry.
Got a little newsprint...got a little cash.
I want to go into partnership,
Mr Mitchell.
You'll be editor and publisher
of the newspaper...
I'll be printer, and handle
the business end.
You'll get the heart...
I've got the hands.
You've got the head.
I've got the press.
What do you say?
A paper...of my own?
I'd be editor.
And I do no man's bidding.
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?
Yep!
You've got yourself a newspaper!
Jeff...you're on the staff...
I promised.
$36 a week!
30 what?!...15 a week!
$15? You promised me $36
if you had a paper.
If a paper...it was a different issue...
Alright...in a week...
Ever draw for a paper, Tom?
- No.
- You're on 'The Globe'...$15 a week.
- Spent all your money yet, Mr Leach?
- Getting close!
You know...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.
Want to have them on 'The Globe.'
Steve...it's the cops!
Anybody in here
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!
We're wasting our time...let's go
down the 'Lizzy the Duck'.
Here you are, officer.
Is this the man who jumped?
I don't know what his name is...
But he's the fellow which jumped.
Take him away!
Mitch...you're a Judas!
It's me, Brody, your bosom pal.
Lock him in 'The Tombs'.
Fake!...You and your newspaper!...
You're a snake in the grass!
All you reporters
are snakes in the grass!
Throw the keys away!
Mitch...How could you've done it?
How could you 've done it
to my Steve, Mitch?!
This'll be Brody's story...
On page one!
"Bridge and safety"
Steve Brody drops 120 feet
to the water below!
Arrested...locked in 'The Tombs'.
I get the follow-up...
"The Globe frees Brody from 'The Tombs'."
The officer won't like this.
The readers will.
- 6 columns...6 pages...
- We're shaving close!
4 pages...let's get 'em to the office.
Look, Mr Mitchell...I got
printer's ink in me, too.
See!
You got a chore-boy?
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 keyline,
a 4+4 and a stick o' stone?
Yes Sir.
No you don't...but you're gonna learn.
You're printer's devil.
From now on, Rusty...
you're a newspaperman.
Yes, Sir!
Got a key, Mr Leach?
Fine...we're putting 'The Globe'
to bed tonight.
Meet you all in the office in 5 minutes.
5 minutes, Mr Davenport.
What a business!
Beautiful, Mr Leach...
Great place to work.
Plenty of room for our hard-hitting
competent staff.
Rusty...get all the papers...
Go and get 'The Star.'
And get rid of that shoe-shine box.
Well, you heard it, Mr Leach...
where's all your type?
It looks like we'll have to set up
all our stories in a couple of inches.
When that type's sorted up, we'll have
enough to handle the paper...
Most of our jobs have been
handbills and cards.
How much paper have we got?
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.
Vol. 1, No. 1, hits 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 came between me
and my wife many a time.
She finally got to get fond of it, too.
Jeff...
Yeah, what is it, Mitch?
Your brother's 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.
He's a mercenary.
Tell him 'The Globe' 'll take care of the bills.
You don't know my brother-in-law.
Here's all the cash I've got on me.
Alright...everybody chip in...come on!
Drive the wagon up in the alley..
that'll be our 'Circulation Department'.
Give him a hand, Tom.
Alright...let's all pile in
and sort this type.
Everybody grab a handful...
Here are the papers, Mr Mitchell.
Got my change?
Can I help?
Yep...You might as well start learning
how to sort pied type now.
"Pied"?
It means when your type
is a mixed-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 cleaning it up.
And that's why you're called
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 an 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's 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.
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...
About that machine...we'll pick it up
in the morning...Have it ready, eh?
Rusty...give Mr Leach a hand.
Jeff...
Steal everything you can...
but make it fresh!
Rusty...bring me that oilcan!
They got a new zinc process
to publish black and white drawings.
Let's have it.
Not for us...
over at 'Life Humor' magazine.
Zinc eh?
So that's how they get such nice lines
in Charles Dana Gibson illustrations.
Gibson's getting as much as $4 to $5 a drawing.
You're getting a steady $15 a week, Tom...
you're better off than Gibson.
There it is 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 they can 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.
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 lot of Vol-1-No.-1's
This is beautiful make-up, Mitch.
Greeley started with $40 credit.
Bennett started in a cellar.
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's 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...1 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!
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.
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...
...and it comes out on paper.
You have heard of this machine...
the typewriter...
I don't know.
I have watched you work...
You are fine.
The fastest compositor I have seen.
But it takes such long time for the printer
to put his text into type.
I think to help progress 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...
You make 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 do you mean?
He's not clear...he speaks
with a 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.
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...I do it...
and I pay YOU money.
I don't know I like this work
on a newspaper.
The newsboys want to know
when we're coming out again.
What did 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.
Rusty...get the Plug-Uglies over there.
I think I have a story...
Made a few notes...
I'll give it to you right off the cuff.
Torts...arm...what is this?
Part of that statue...
the gift from France.
What about it?
It's on display now
in Madison Square.
We'll go over it later...
Right now I've got to write
the Brody follow-up.
Stir up the members of the Dead Rabbits, too...
Get them over there.
You'll have 3 rival gangs
congregated in 'The Tombs'.
Yes, 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's a hero...
You can't deny that.
There won't be any riot.
Is this 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 is just a little party capital...
during fall elections.
I want something controversial.
There's a rumour 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 with news.
Where'd he come from?
Who are his parents?
Is he married? Engaged? Divorced?
How'd he get a start?
What does he want?
All I can tell you about him is that 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.
2 issues in the same day!
Remarkable.
Only page 1 has 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've 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's 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 Barthaloldi to build a monument...
How much is that?
$350,000
Why'd they build it?
To cement the friendship
of 2 great republics.
France and the United States...
A gift from a people to a people.
Not from 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's at The Battery...
the body's on South Street...
Doesn't have a leg to stand on,
has she?
No, Mitch...she needs a pedestal.
How much would that cost?
$100,000
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 have 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.
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.
Do you know where he is?
Yes, he's working on his machine
at 'The Globe'.
Ottmar Mergenthaler?
He's at 'The Globe'?
Gten Morgen!
Wie geht es Ihnen?
Herr Mergenthaler?
Mein Name ist Frulein Hackett...
...von 'The Star'...
If you don't mind,
I prefer to speak English.
Of course.
You know, I knew a Herr Mergenthaler
in Wrttemberg.
You have been to Wrttemberg?
That is where I am from.
In Germany "Merkantaler"
In America Mergenthaler...
It's easier to say.
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 printing since Gutenberg.
If it works.
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.
I know.
I've heard Mark said
it will be able to do everything...
...except drink, smoke and go on strike.
Can yours?
It's so complicated,
perhaps it will even talk.
I shall try to follow the conversation.
Perhaps you will have
the answer i am looking for.
I call this '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.
The face of the type is in perspective.
How long would it take you to set up
a column of type?
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 1 issue a day?
Nothing.
With 10, 20 maybe 40 of these machines...
I could have a circulation of a million daily...
maybe 2 million.
The big problem now is to separate
the paper from the metal...
It 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 baptise this new machine,
we'll make newspaper history.
I 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...
...garbage that 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?
Did he turn you down, Charity?
Who'd turn her down?
Obviously she didn't come over here
to visit our steam press.
She could've come over to visit ME.
She's not that interested in
morals of an editor.
I have a sneaking suspicion she just failed
in attempt to shanghai Mr Mergenthaler.
- Is the editor here?
- I'm the editor.
I want to give a penny
for the Statue of Liberty.
Thank you very much...
what's your name?
Martha Downs
Poppa said I was a good girl
for giving my penny.
Rusty...you give Miss Downs
a 'Globe' receipt for 1 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.
Those separate little cells you've been
working in, are all wrong.
We'll 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?
That's your copy desk...
From now on you're in 'The Slot'.
When are 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!
Well, the AP's worth it.
Sure..sure...I was just thinking...
If I had $300 what would I do with it?
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...120point
Where would you get
such big type, Mitch?
I'd make it...
Cut it out of wood myself.
It'd 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...
That 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.
I'd like to have a dog like that.
You wanna bet?
You got a lot of them right here...
Type lice...
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?
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?
Why do we put 30
at the end of copy?
Because it's the end of a 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!
There always will be type lice...
even if my machine will work.
There'll always be type lice.
He's got to do something
about increasing circulation.
A lot of people have tried to figure out
new methods of selling papers.
I've been thinking about fish.
Yeah..they got fish carts out there...
They can sell fish right on the street.
What's fish got to do with newspapers?
Why not sell papers from a pushcart...?
Have a stand.
Newsstand...a 'Globe' newsstand.
I do not write words to 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 can use the room, anyway.
There is that Frenchman...
he's going into "The Star."
That's the Frenchman who's connected
with the statue, alright.
Maybe Hackett's gonna give him
a big cheque for the pedestal.
If she'd just pull the curtains,
we could see what was going on.
C'est les bonne manires n'xistent pas!
Vous...vous les auriez en franais.
Mademoiselle, vous me confondez...
c'est vous que je veux dire.
Mais, c'est trs difficile, je crois...
Qu'on vais, gentil homme,
pour associe tre un hypocrite.
Pardon...je ne comprend pas de tout!
C'est du camouflage.
Du camouflage!
Camouflage!
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?
Not 'where'...WHEN!?
WHEN is she going to tell the world?
You've got to be exact, Mr Dessard...
the newspaper has to be factual.
Now, it's a very important story...
but it's no good unless we get the facts!
Demain...tomorrow!
You're sure?!
Oui...oui...TOMORROW!
TOM...get a 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?
That was news.
I wrote down a few highlights.
The choice is yours.
AFL...the American Federation of Labor
It was organised tonight.
The Printer's Union's 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 organisation
at the end of this year.
Got a list of the publishers?
You should've been there.
Likes of 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.
There's 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...
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..."
"It lasted unto her death..."
Her face was better than all
the letters of recommendation in the world.
Poise...a privilege of nature...
Her voice...
...a 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.
Oh...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.
But 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.
I agree, Miss Hackett.
Then why haven't you
done something about it?
I have no jurisdiction over the editorial policy
of this newspaper.
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.
Thugs are breaking up our newsstands...
Come on!
Where's Hackett?
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?
You wanted an editorial department...
...so I turned his desk around...
...and now you can see everything
that's going on.
Alright, where's Leach?
He went to South Street at the fish market
to try and get some paper.
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.
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 coming out
every day!
You've 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 an affront to me
and an insult to 'The Star.'
What do YOU want?
You're certain that I was responsible
for this circulation war...
Well that's not important.
It's important that you and I
have a truce.
A little late to believe in a white flag...
we've already suffered a casualty.
There'll be more casualties
if we don't stop the violence.
I'm going 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' has 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.
It'd be a great story
if he died for a paper, wouldn't it?
What about little Mr Angelo?
You'd 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 the 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.
Here's my receipt.
Where did you get this?
What do 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've got a good name.
I don't like your tone.
I gave $5 in good faith.
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 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 for the pedestal and not a single
mention of my name in 'The Globe'.'
And my husband gave $50,
Mr Mitchell!
$50!
- Did you get your money back, Georg?
- No I didn't.
Mitchell, I been around this street
a long time...
And I hate seeing a paper
using its pages to cheat the public.
I gave $7 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 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...
Antagonises 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...
Here's a dollar, mister.
And 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, to make a you special drink?
No, we gotta go.
I'll make you a Blue Blazer...
On the house!
I can make the best Blue Blazer
you ever saw.
Anybody getting money for that pedestal...
they deserve more than a Blue Blazer.
You know what...
I got lots of patriotic customers here.
I bet you I can get you $20
for that pedestal.
Got any more of them receipts?
My father gave $10 for the statue.
I heard today that Ed Shore...
...gave $100...
...And my father's brother gave $20
for the statue...
...and his brother-in-law
gave $30...
Now wasn't that worth waiting for?
That's what I call a Blue Blazer!
A shot of allagazam...
and a shot of sangaree...
As a matter of fact I even put in
a bit of sheep-dip...
Now that's what you call
a Blue Blazer!
Was that worth waiting for?
That's a Blue Blazer mixed with a shot of allagazam
and a shot of sangaroo...
A you sure they're on the house?
Sure they're on the house...
for anybody that's patriotic.
Steve...that's the guy
with the forged receipts!
You know what I did to the man
who ran over the kid's legs...
And 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' 's 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 can tell them there'll be a Statue of Liberty
on Beddoes Island in 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 Mergenthaler...are you alright?
Yeah...
What about Mr Davenport?
He was gone before it happened.
Gone where?
Wrote his story and said goodnight...
and went home.
Give me a hand...
Let's get him in the other room.
Are you alright Mr Mergenthaler?
Did you get a good look
at any of them?
No...they were too fast.
They had it all figured out
like clockwork.
Each man knew
where to hurt it most.
Well, it'll 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 type.
It'll take us a month...the state of 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 do you mean it 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?
It's 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...
...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 have put off dying...
...waiting for a new voice
that would be heard.
You are that new voice, Mr Mitchell.
And now that I have 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?
Go ahead.
What do you call this,
Mr Mergenthaler?
Line of type.
Mr Leach...get that press beating...
Mr Angelo, railroad those formes.
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 expos.
Mr Mergenthaler...if I give you
my story right here...
...can you get the words out
of your line o' type as I talk?
'Linotype'...that is 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
its subscription drive...
...for the Lady in New York Bay.
Hey...Jeff!
Look at that...
a 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 print...
...fight...
..expose...
...make history together...
We started something new...
...newspaper business...
I had it all figured out.
All figured out.
Re-plates...newsstands...
Railroad stations.
By-lines...
...for good writers...
Columns...
'The Globe'...is dead.
Long live 'The Globe'.
Extra, extra...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 do 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'd you get the press?
Right across the street.
I came in here after the explosion.
I read your page-1 story.
I didn't order the violence.
Mr Wiley did.
He blew up your pressroom.
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!
On your 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 i love you...
No...I killed my newspaper
so yours could be born...
Because I read Mr Davenport's obituary.
And 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 Beddoes 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.