Teacher's Pet

Now you can see the eleVators|leading up to the executiVe offices.

Step right in,|ladies and gentlemen.

That's the idea. That's fine.

And now if you'll just get up|a little closer to the table...

you'll all be able|to View this room quite well.

This, ladies and gentlemen,|is the City Room...

the heart centre of eVery newspaper.

Here you see only a handful...

of the 2,500 highly-trained specialists|employed by the Evening Chronicle.

Men and women who work tirelessly...

not only in this Vast building,|but in eVery country in the world.

Editors, reporters, photographers...

who become your eyes and ears|in war and peace...

who make it possible for you|to sit in your chair...

and witness history in the making.

Men and women who uphold the highest|tradition of American journalism...

and are dedicated to the task|of making you...

the best-informed newspaper reader|on this earth.

These are some of the papers you saw|printed only a few minutes ago.

The first copies are rushed up...

to be distributed|to the editors and reporters...

so they can be checked|in case there are any mistakes.

In this department, the news of the city|is funnelled through the City Desk-

Which one's the city editor?

I'll get to that in a moment, madam.

Headed by the city editor|who's seated there...

in the centre of the room...

- facing his entire staff.|- That's Mr. Gannon.

- Yes?|- Yes, James Gannon, madam.

At the far end of the room|is the office of our Managing Editor...

whose name is Lloyd Crowley.

And down the hall, Col. J.R. Ballantine,|our publisher.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,|what you may find of interest next...

is what we term|in newspaper parlance the morgue.

So if you'll just follow me|right oVer here...

I'll be Very happy|to show you what we haVe.

Mr. Gannon, could I talk to you-

I don't care what his brother thinks.|It won't sell a paper.

Get me a quote with lace on it.

- Mr. Gannon-|- Archard! Where's the City Hall story?

- Can I talk to you?|- You want to talk to me about what?

My son.

I don't know how you got in here|or who you are, but I'Ve got a-

I'm Mrs. KoVac. My Barney|works for you. That's who I am.

Oh.

Barney's mother?

- Why, glad to meet you.|- Yeah, I bet you are.

Say, Jim, Fisher's calling in.|He's down at BelleVue.

Some dame tried to commit suicide|oVer a guy.

Swallowed a whole bottle|of sleeping pills.

That's the business to be in:|sleeping pills.

You want to send a cameraman?

Depends on who she is. Find out-|Wait a minute.

Mr. Gannon.|Yeah.

He says they pumped out her stomach,|and they only got a quart of bourbon.

That's not a bad business either.

- In that case, no pictures.|- I'Ve been trying for weeks to see you.

I can't get you on the phone.

I haVe to take a tour.|What are you, the President?

We'Ve got a paper to get out,|and your boy helps us do it.

- You should be proud.|- He's just an errand boy.

- Copy boy.|- Same thing.

Do you want me to start him|as managing editor?

I want you to fire him.

Mr. Gannon,|he's gotta go back to school.

- What for?|- What for?

'Cause I want him to get educated,|what for.

So did his father.

Mr. Gannon, his father worked|all his life...

in an oVercoat factory|on SeVenth Avenue.

He took a dictionary with him eVery day|in his lunch pail.

"But, Edna," he said to me...

God rest his soul, he said:

"You get Barney educated.|That's the golden key. "

Gannon.

Try it tomorrow.

This is okay. Andrews'll get you|quotes from the Deputy Mayor...

and you and he can|get together on a sidebar.

- Did you hear what I just said?|- Certainly.

He took the dictionary with him|eVery day in his lunch pail.

"Edna," he said, God rest his soul...

"get Barney educated.|That's the golden key. "

With all due respect, Mrs. KoVac...

you see that fancy-Dan oVer there|clipping pictures out of the paper?

He's got a golden key: Phi Beta Kappa.

I keep him around for laughs.

You wanna see something else?

This letter from some professor|up at the uniVersity...

E.R. Stone.

Would I faVour them|by appearing as guest lecturer...

in one of their|night school journalism classes?

Me, Jim Gannon,|who neVer went to high school.

So what's it got to do with Barney?

Barney wants to be|a newspaperman.

He'll never learn that in school.

Your baby's grown up, Mrs. KoVac.

He's old enough to decide|his future for himself.

Yeah, how can he decide when|he don't eVen know what he don't know?

Mr. Gannon, I think...

if he was educated,|who could tell what he could find-

One thing he won't find is another|chance like he's got here with me.

I'm teaching him his business.

During lunch,|I let him take a whack at a news story.

Then when I get the chance,|I show him his mistakes.

I didn't need him,|I put him on as an extra...

- because I, well...|- You wanna play father?

Mr. Gannon, kids don't come that easy.|You haVe one first.

You wash his diapers,|you stay up nights with him.

You loVe him and worry about him|for about 18 years...

and then maybe|you haVe a right to tell him what to do.

Gannon.

Hello, Peggy. Yeah.|How are you, honey?

Sure, I can see you tonight.

It's Tuesday.|Aren't you gonna play poker?

I haVe got a Very important conference,|but I could get there for the last show.

What? A new joint? The Bongo Club?

Yeah, sure, I know where it is.

Yeah, I'll see you later, honey.

All right, Mrs. KoVac, I'll talk to Barney.

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