'trolley strike drags on for third week' -- this so-called headline drags on for infinity!
it's all mr. william randolph hearst has, too -- see how he covers the strike! the magnifying glass swings to a copy of the new york journal with a large black headline: "nude corpse on rails -- not connected to trolley strike." the camera comes around to reveal joseph pulitzer, himself, a thundering presence in smoked-glasses and a beard, wielding the magnifying glass like a gavel of judgment.
hearst is killing us in the circulation war -- and you give me headlines that would put a whirling dervish to sleep!
steal hearst's man -- offer him double what hearst pays.
i created the world to be the best and i'll spend whatever it takes to -- what is that deafening noise?
never mind -- where was i? *
this paper's losing money because there's too much fat, inefficiency -- not because i'm fighting to * make us number one! well, we're going to cut costs, maximize profits -- and still beat the socks off hearst -- i want to know how by tonight.
seitz! what in blazes is he talking about?
of course i need to make more money! but how do i make more money, you bloodless blot?
then hearst undersells me and i'm in the poorhouse. brilliant.
wait. what do the newsies pay now -- fifty cents per hundred papers? if you raised it to sixty cents --
-- then that, multiplied by forty thousand papers a day, seven days a week -- well, it would pay some of the bills around here.
not necessarily. as newspapermen, hearst and i would cut each other's throats to get the best of the other. but as businessmen -- and gentlemen -- we often agree on ways to keep down certain operating costs. if i know willie hearst, he's going to wish he thought of this himself.
if we do it, they'll all do it. it's only a tenth of a cent -- nobody gets hurt! it's good for the newsies -- an incentive, make 'em work harder, sell more papers! now get me hearst on that contraption. seitz sighs and reaches for the phone.
give him whatever 'means' he requires, i want this nuisance over and done with.
would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped criminal be cause enough, mayor?
a fugitive from one of your prisons, mayor -- a convicted thief who's been at large for some time under the alias of 'jack kelly.' his real name is?
you know warden snyder, don't you, mayor? i believe you appointed him. the mayor nods ruefully; not one of his best appoint- ments.
not quietly -- i want an example made. i want this rabble he's roused to see what happens to those who dare to -- well, they should see justice in action.
by the way, mayor, i'm having a few friends for cards that night -- newspaper friends, willie hearst, gordon bennett. perhaps you'll join us -- we can talk about the coming election.
you know the boys, mayor -- mr. bennett of the tribune, mr. taylor of the times, of course you know mr. hearst -- and this is a new member of our little group, mr. gammon, who just came back from europe.
know what i was doing when i was your age? i was in a war. the civil war.
people think wars are about right and wrong. they're not. they're about power. you know what power is?
power means that i could see to it that you serve your full sentence at the refuge. or i could pull strings and have you free tomorrow. it means i could give you my pocket change -- and you'd have more money than you'd likely ever earn.
i disagree. you're the spirit of the strike, without you, they'd fall apart in a few days.
shut your mouth and listen ! you're going to do exactly as i say --
-- and be a fugitive who's pursued and caught and returned. i'm offering you a choice -- is that what you choose?
i'm not asking you to. all i ask is that you return to your old job -- as newsie for the the world.
for a few days. then the strike ends -- and it will end, boy, make no mistake -- and you can go wherever you want to buy a ticket. free and clear, with money in your pocket.  and no one chasing you. jack is silent, troubled. pulitzer pushes a buzzer.
you go back to the refuge. think it over in your cell. let me know in the morning.
kelly's down there. he should be back in jail.
too good! those illiterate guttersnipes couldn't have done this on their own. somebody's behind this, trying to pull a fast one.
tell hearst i'm busy! i'll settle it all right -- once and for all.
you're going to listen to me, boy --
we had a deal -- you broke it. you're going back to jail.
neither am i. i can wait them out. it won't be me that's hurt.
i'm about to show you what power really is.  he slams the window shut; crowd noise abruptly drops --
i have the police outside waiting to arrest you --
-- then i'll deal with that rabble in the street. he's crossing to a buzzer on his desk; jack, thinking fast, snatches up a copy of the newsies news.
all the papers have an agreement.  we print nothing about the newsies. whose press did you use? it was hearst, wasn't it!
i knew it. whoever helped you print this lying rag is trying to break the strike, get the jump on the rest of us. well, you're going to expose this backstabber to the other owners -- in exchange, i'll call off the police.
all right, all right -- just say the traitor's name. it's hearst, isn't it? say it! say the name of the scoundrel whose press you used so i can make him the disgrace of the newspaper world! say his name, damn you!
perhaps we can resolve our.  small differences. david digs out their demands and prepares to read.