Deadline - U.S.A. Page #3

The day after tomorrow

in surrogates court-

You got two weeks' pay coming

to ya. The paper's closing.

Quit now and look

for another job or...

wait for the probate

judge's decision.

It's up to you.

It was nothing personal, Mr. Hutcheson. I

- I have my family to think about.

That's right, henry.

Nothing personal.

Oh, Mr. Hutcheson, the mayor wants

- I'm busy.

What are you gonna do?

I got an assignment.

Harry? There's still a

sports page to get out.

Fighting. A man your age. Did me good.

He was right to quit. They

all oughta quit. Maybe.

Anyway, I got it

out of my system.

You were with the new

york world, weren't you?

Under pulitzer,

cobb and barrett.

What'd you do when it

folded? Let's see now.

I think I got myself a

drink. Yep, I'm sure of it.

- Then what'd you do? - Came over here

and went to work for old man Garrison.

He was a great

newspaperman.

Yeah, but no good

as a father. Terrible.

Daughters, one of 'em married

to a high-Class broker...

who knows how to invest

their money more wisely.

They hate the paper, same

as they hated the old man.

Couldn't get at him when he was alive, so

now they're kickin' him when he's dead. Yes?

Five minutes to press time.

Okay. Come in.

Everybody in this racket gets kicked

sooner or later, dead or alive.

Get that in the fudge box.

Yes, sir. Uh, the mayor-

Darn the mayor!

Yes, sir.

The mayor.

All he cares about is who'll support

him for reelection if we fold.

By now, the boys will be having a nice

lively wake at o'brien's. Ever been to one?

Before you know it, lad, you won't be

feeling a thing, not a blessed thing.

That's what a wake is for.

Yes, that's right.

Brothers and sisters,

hush up for a minute.

Friends and unemployed-

Hear, hear.

Lend me your ears.

We're gathered here to bury caesar. No!

Brothers and sisters, we came

to praise the day, not bury it.

I got the urge, brother! I got

the urge! Repent and rejoice.

Brother Cleary, a sinner

of 14 years standing,

Sitting or lying down, will

let out the misery. Hallelujah!

Maestro, uh, "b" flat,

if you please.

Flash! Scoop-Scoop. Da-Dee-Deep,

dee-Dee, dee-Dee, dee-Dee-Deep.

I came over the river jordan

from a weekly scandal sheet...

and asked old John Garrison for a job.

"Are you a journalist

or a reporter?" He said.

"What's the difference?"

I said.

"A journalist makes himself

the hero of the story.

A reporter is only the witness."

Sister Barndollar.

Sister Barndollar, has the spirit

moved the research department?

Ah. The spirits moved her, all right.

Hallelujah and pass

the collection box.

Sister Willebrandt.

Cheers.

Comin' through the rye, present

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