EXT. BULLETIN OFFICE - SIDEWALK
Of a time-worn plaque against the side of a
building. It reads:
"A free press for a free people."
While we read this, a pair of hands come in holding
pneumatic chisel which immediately attacks the sign. As
the lettering is being obliterated,
A new plaque on which the lettering has been
THE NEW BULLETIN "A streamlined newspaper for
a streamlined era."
INT. BULLETIN OUTER OFFICE.
At a door at which a sign-painter works. He is
painting HENRY CONNELL's name on the door. It opens and a
flip office boy emerges. The painter has to wait until the
door closes in order to resume his work.
Of the outer office. The activity of the office
seems to suddenly cease, as all eyes are centered on the
MED. SHOT—PANNING: With the office boy—who has a small
sheet of paper in his hand. He walks jauntily to a desk,
refers to his paper, points his finger to a woman, emits a
short whistle through his teeth, runs a finger across his
throat and jerks his thumb toward managing editor's office.
The woman stares starkly at him while her immediate
neighbors look on with sympathy. The office boy now goes
through the same procedure with several other people. All
watch him, terror written in their eyes.
Toward CONNELL's office door where painter works.
It opens and three people emerge. Two men and a girl. The
girl is young and pretty. All three look dourful. The
painter again has to wait for the door to shut before
resuming his work. The two men exit. The girl suddenly
Of the girl. Her name is ANN MITCHELL. She
stands, thinking, and then suddenly, impulsively, wheels
around. CAMERA PANS with her as she returns to CONNELL's
office door, flings it open and disappears. The painter
remains poised with his brush, waiting for the door to
swing back. There is a slight flash of resentment in his
INT. CONNELL'S OFFICE
CONNELL is behind his desk on which is a tray
of sandwiches and a glass of milk, half gone. Near him
sits POP DWYER, another veteran newspaperman. ANN crosses
to CONNELL's desk.
Yeh, D. B. Oh, just cleaning out
the dead-wood. Okay.
Look, Mr. Connell . . . I just
can't afford to be without work
right now, not even for a day.
I've got a mother and two kid
sisters to . . .