 The Hollywood Radio Theater, starring Dan Daley and Deborah Padgett in Deadline USA. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Irving Cummings. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. In tonight's play, Deadline USA, we will tell you the dynamic story of a managing editor whose newspaper was his whole life, even to the neglect of his lovely young wife. And as our stars of this exciting drama from the studios of 20th Century Fox, we have Dan Daley in the type of role which first brought him motion picture fame. And one of the most talented young actresses in Hollywood, Deborah Padgett. Now, Deadline USA, starring Dan Daley as Ed Hutchison and Deborah Padgett as Nora. It's early afternoon. A typical afternoon in the busy editorial offices of a daily newspaper. This newspaper is called The Day. Ed Hutchison, managing editor. Here it is, Ed. The new tax program is coming in now in all the wire services. Where did this come from? Marford in Washington. The story will be on page one of every newspaper in the country. That's right, including the day after it's rewritten. Rewritten? Buffett knows better than this. Oh, let's talk about OPS, N-A-M-E-C-A. What's all that mean to our readers? What does billions mean to the average man or woman? That's an impossible figure. Break it down so I know what we're talking about. Okay, sure. What's it going to mean to the housewife or groceries? How much more for a car? A television set. 50 bucks, a hundred. Get a new leaf for the second edition. Right. Tell Hulkam I want pictures and cash lists on the UP flood story. Leeds, page, second section. Now, what's the city desk on that girly fish out of the river? Well, have you got a minute of that? What about her? Is it murder? It looks like it. We don't know yet. We got some pictures of her though from the morgue and that fur coat she was wearing with me. Play it down. No pictures. I said no pictures. No pictures. Let the standard run the pictures. I'm sorry, Mr. Hutchison, but they've called again from upstairs. They want you at that meeting. I'll be up in a minute. Meeting? Mrs. Garrison, the two charming daughters and the lawyer. Why isn't the paper making more money? What else could they want me for? Now, where's boroughs? Uh, coming in. The Rianzi story's fine. Tie it off. You can leave tonight to handle that strike upstate. Well, I just as soon stay with the Rianzi story. You're wasting your time, baby. Well, not if we can prove he's guilty. It's not our job to prove he's guilty. We're not detectives. Oh, give me a week. Forget it. Don't you read what you write? The state crime commission couldn't prove a thing. All right. I know they couldn't. Rianzi made a monkey out of him. We've had a nice circus, that's all. The television's had a field day. All the papers raised their circulation. Rianzi's lawyers got richer. All I want is a week, Ed. Three days, huh? Please, I think I gotta leave. All right, boroughs. But stay out of trouble. Rianzi's plenty tough and don't you forget it. Okay. Bradley! Yes, sir? All the calls will be upstairs at the meeting. We know you're busy, Mr. Hutchison. We won't attend you for long. As you can see, this is a most informal little meeting, just you and the ladies. You mean you're leaving, Mr. Crane? Well, no, not exactly. As the family lawyer... I don't know what to take. Let's tell him and get it over with. Tell me? Why? Well, as we all know, Mr. Garrison drew up a will just prior to his death 11 years ago. In it, he designated as his heirs, his two daughters, and his wife. In as much as Catherine attained her majority last week and became entitled to a full vote, it has been decided to, uh... sell the newspaper. Sell? Sell a day? The decision was unanimous. Any objection? Would it make any difference? None. Then I have no objections. As a reason it was decided to... Enough, we go into the details. I have a headache. My staff is gonna feel the same way. Oh, and take that hurt look off your faces if you couldn't see it coming. Now, what do we want with the newspaper? What a kitty and I know about publishing. Do you like money? The day gives you all a pretty fair income, doesn't it? We've never even come down here except twice a year for meetings. You're invited every day. Uh, Mrs. Courtney's husband feels the money could be invested more wisely elsewhere, Mr. Hutchison. John Garrison founded this newspaper. Not Mrs. Courtney's husband. We're taking care of you. Are you to get 1% of the sale price slightly more than $50,000? Thank you. You'll notify all personnel they'll receive three weeks' pay. Now, meantime... Wait a minute. Who's buying the day? Well, who's buying it? Are you ashamed to tell me? Blood and sweat. The buyer? White. They're being sold to the standard? Mr. White's paper is very successful. He'll undoubtedly make this one more profitable, too. It won't be this paper anymore. They'll be lost in the standard. As far as we're concerned, he's made a very satisfactory offer. He's eliminating his competition, that's all. Mrs. Garrison, you've got to stop him. Your husband had created a new kind of journalism. You helped him. Why, you even... Ed, please. It's there on the wall. Page one of the first paper you ever printed. Quote, this paper will fight for progress and reform. We'll never be satisfied merely with printing the news. We'll never be afraid to attack wrong, whether by predatory wealth or predatory poverty. Thanks, Ed, but we know all about that. You're not selling the day. You're killing it. I still don't know why we have to go to court to sell it. Perhaps because your father never intended it to be so. Oh, Mother, please. We've been over this a hundred times. The hearing to approve the sale will take place in Surrogate's court the day after tomorrow. You'll be there, of course. I never go to funerals. Excuse me. We still got a paper to get out. I like that man. I always have. I'm afraid he's too excitable, Mrs. Garrison. Might be advisable to replace him until the sale is consummated. Mr. Crane. Yes? Shut up, please. And I know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth. They're selling out. The paper's closing. We've got three weeks' pay coming to you. You can quit now, today, and start looking for other jobs. Or you can wait for the decision of the court on Thursday. It's up to you. Well, I guess that's all. We'll get the paper on the street. Some of them will quit, but we'll get it out. They've got a right to quit. They all ought to quit. Yeah, maybe. So they're selling out to the standard, huh? Don't knock it. The standard's got twice our circulation and three times our advertising. It's wild and it's yellow. This paper, but it keeps people working. You were with the old New York world, weren't you? And the Pulitzer Carbon Barret. What did you do when it folded? Well, I see now. I think I got myself a drink. Yeah, I'm sure of it. Then what did you do? Came over here, went to work, rolled Man Garrison. He was a great newspaper man. Yeah, but no good as a father. Two daughters who hate the paper the same as they hated the old man. They couldn't get out of them while he was alive, so now they're kicking him when he's dead. Like sooner or later, dead or alive. People just don't want a newspaper anymore. It's not enough just to give them the news. They want comics and puzzles. They want horoscopes and tips on the horse races. How to interpret their dreams. If they accidentally stumble on the first page, maybe they'll read what's going on. Maybe they'll even care. But I doubt it. Twenty minutes to press time, Ed. Like you said, we'll get the paper out. There'll be a nice, lively wake tonight in O'Brien's bar. Ever been to one? Not for a dead newspaper. Why don't you stop by? Before you know it, lad, you won't be feeling a thing. Not a thing. Thanks, Porter. Yeah. I'd better stop by. Paper's dead, Nora. We buried it tonight in O'Brien's room. The day is done. A fine alcoholic funeral. I decided to come here and see you. Ed, why don't you go home, please? I had to see you. You're my wife. Not for some time. I have decided to re-dedicate my life. Yes, dear. Yes, dear. That's why I'm going to give you the best years of my life. Here, drink this. White beer. Homogenized from cows. I love you. Let's get married again. Tonight, it's the milk I could bring on my second child. It already has coming here this hour. Why, Ed, it's... Nora, I'm free. Fired, can't. No more paper. Nothing to keep us apart anymore. The paper has been sold. So you've said several times. Did I? Divorce is a very evil thing, Nora. Down from my Olympian heights. I come humbly. Yes, dear. We're going a second honeymoon. We never had a first. No, I'm leveling, baby. You were up south in Iraq, everywhere. No worry about expenses, I'm loaded. So I noticed. I mean money. More than we ever had in our lives. I was paid off by the Garrison family for being a good boy. Ed, listen, you shouldn't have come here. It both worked out. What's this stuff? Oh, just some office work I brought home. I'll be advertising business, Nora. You know, you were right to quit the paper. Now you got something in the pen now. Something legitimate. I went to a wake tonight. I saw the light, sister. Hallelujah. Please. Why should I fight for what? Publishers don't care about the paper. The paper doesn't care about me, and I don't care about anybody except you. Hey, haven't I met him somewhere before? The photograph? Well, there's another picture of him in the hall. Oh, yeah, fight, huh? What with? I'm an employee, not a stockholder. What are you doing? Hey, where'd you go? I'm fixing the sofa in the living room. I'm getting a blanket, a sheet, and a pillow. Now come in and lie down. Lie down? Yeah. Lie down and quit. I don't have to think about anybody but us. Yes, dear. Now take your shoes off. Laura, when you went to Reno, what was that you charged me with? Incompatibility. Here, put your head on the pillow. Incompatibility. That was a lie. Ed, well, they know where to reach you. Doesn't matter. Hey, that guy's picture on the table. Who is he? I don't like him. Sorry, I do. I like him very much. I don't like him. I'll think of a reason later. I'll go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up. Good night, Laura, dear. Good night, Ed. Oh, oh. Oh, okay. Okay, go ahead. Borrows. When does this happen? What time is it now? Six what? Six twenty. What hospital? Oh, okay, no. I'll go myself. Ed? Oh, good morning, darling. I thought no one knew you were here. Well, where else would I go when I'm in trouble? Except in my clothes, huh? Ed, now look, it's time we had a talk. Not now, baby. I'm in a hurry. Dinner tonight? Oh, why not every night? Alberto's place, okay? Eight o'clock? Yeah, o'clock, fine. Kiss me goodbye. I was hoping you'd ask me to. I thought you were in a hurry. Oh, yeah. Did I have a pleasant time last night? Yes, dear. I did? Well, what do you know? Hi. Hi, Ed. Well, you warned me, didn't you? Rienzi, do this, Borrows. Who else? The doctor says I can only stay a minute. Now, what can you tell me? They started banging me around when they got me in the car. How many were they? Three. Maybe four. Well, what was it? Three or four? I don't know. What did they use, kid? Fists. Wanted them to get me in the face with something harder. Club, I guess. What did they say? Nothing. Not after they got me in the car. Before? Yeah, yeah. Outside the hall of records, sir. I want there to check on Rienzi. Man, I talked to him. I must have tipped him off. What makes you think so? Left his office for a few minutes. He probably phoned Rienzi. But you're not sure? No. That I wouldn't stand up in court? Well, how else were they waiting for me when I came out? Who was waiting? Rienzi's men. Could you identify him? One, maybe. He used to be a boxer. You know his name? White... Whitey, uh... I'm not sure, Whitey, son. Come in, could you identify him? Yeah, yeah. He asked me if I was Boris if I worked for the day. What make a car was it? I don't know. Well, sedan, blue, black, what? Well, what are you trying to do? Protect Rienzi? I want facts that won't bounce. Facts that will stand up against Rienzi's lawyers and libel suits. Facts that will tear Rienzi's syndicate wide open. They just can't be any mistakes. What are you worried about, Ed? People will be out of business, won't they? Any time we print the facts. Dr. Boris, you're a good reporter. Who knows, maybe I'm gonna need you. You heard me, Paula? Put every man you can spare on the Rienzi story. Picture layout, the works. Where does he get his money? His tie-ups, dates, facts, facts, more facts. What's up, thing? It's a proven man. Prove him later. Save anything that saved this newspaper. This is it. Miss Barn Dollar! Yes, sir. You heard him? You ever hear of Rienzi? Oh, yes, sir. Well, go through the research department of yours and give me a... I've got it right here, Mr. Hutchison. Rienzi, Thomas, 51, born Palermo, Sicily, emigrated here in 1914, attended public school, 47, has two children by legal wife Gertrude. We're not proposing for the Chamber of Commerce. We want to convict them of every known crime in the books, all of which is committed. I want everything. Yes, sir. Where's Mac? Mac! Get your camera. I want pictures of Rienzi, his wife, home, cars, everything. Now, what are these smashes, Mike Cameron? He's done it before, you know. And get pictures of him doing it. You sent for me, Ed? Yes. I want a cartoon on Rienzi. I want it hard, tough. Below the belt, a vulture, sucking the life out of a city. You got it? Oh, I can draw anything you want, but a vulture only prays on the dead or dying. Praise, huh? Okay, here's your captain. Let us pray. P-R-E-Y. Ed, look about those pictures you want. Now, why should I stick my neck out? I want them for the first edition. I get in a jam with Rienzi tomorrow. The paper falls. Where does that leave me? You're fired. Now, wait a minute. Pay him off, Porta. Get him out of here. Look, why? All the excitement. Everybody knows we're washed up. That's your mistake. But I've worked here for three years. That's my mistake. Get your vulture. All right, Bentley. Get your standard type into my office. Yes, sir. Oh, Dr. Emanuel's on the phone. I'll be right there. Hello? No, no, no. I'm fine, Doc. I need a favor. A personal friend of mine needs some help. He's at City Hospital. Name is Boros. George Boros. What? Well, which is more important, Doctor, delivering a lecture in Chicago or saving a man's eyesight? That's right. He may lose his eye. So cancel the lecture. Delay it. No. We weren't too busy to raise funds for your clinic. Well, I will get the whole thing. Well, certainly I'm putting on a personal basis. What's a friend for if not for a favor? Thank you. A real humanitarian. I'm ready with the standard type. Oh, page one editorial. 10-point type, double column. Byline set off and bold face will be John Garrison. John Garrison? You heard me. Quote. I am dead. I've been dead 11 years. By tomorrow, this newspaper may also be dead. But as long as it lives, the day will continue to report the facts and the meaning of those facts without fear and without distortion. Wait a minute. Cut out and without distortion. Somebody might not know what you mean. Yes, sir. Okay. Now, what are the facts? Thomas Rienzi, who likes to be thought of as a hard-working and industrious-building character. In just a moment, we will continue with act two of the Hollywood Radio Theater. Make a friend and you make an ally. There's a thought for you to keep in mind as many another American has. G.J. Watamool, a naturalized United States citizen, has done much to bring the fruits of democracy to his native country, India. As one of Hawaii's most successful merchants, Watamool, with his American wife, established the Watamool Foundation over 15 years ago to bring Indian students to America. The first year, they offered 14 fellowships paid for the student's passage to the United States and their tuition at the University of the Candidate's Choice and gave them $150 a month for two years' living expenses. Since the foundation was begun, industries all over America have offered their services to the Watamools and helping Indians learn modern techniques in pediatrics, the control of epidemics, food canning, and the building of machinery. Through the years, the Watamools have expanded their program to sponsor and exchange goodwill ambassadors between the United States and India. We should be especially proud of G.J. Watamool, who, as an American citizen, has proven to peoples of two nations that by helping others, you help your country. Now our producer, Mr. Cummings. Act two of Deadline USA, starring Dan Daly as Ed Hutchison and Deborah Padgett as Nora. It's a few hours later, in Alberto's restaurant, Ed Hutchison, and the pretty girl who was once his wife have just sat down for dinner. I read the paper while I was waiting for you, Ed. That's the best-looking front page in town. As usual. That editorial under the name of Garrison, yours? Yeah. It's wonderful. As usual? And how are we? Are we as usual? Stop it. Any questions? Not yet, but there will be. How's your reporter, Bruce? Well, he'll get better. He may not have an eye, but he'll get better. Well, maybe now the Garrisoners won't sell the paper after all. I mean, to sell it now in the middle of a fight like this, well, it would be like endorsing Rienzi. That's a wonderful dress you're wearing. How do I look? Better than you did last night. How do you feel? Amorous. Excuse me, Mr. Hutchison. Tell them I'm feeding. But they said it was important. Urgent, dear, as usual. You'd better answer it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's important. Urgent, dear, as usual. You'd better answer it. I'll be right back. Alberto. Yes, sir? Bring her some champagne. Oh, and, uh, keep calling her, Mrs. Hutchison. Yes. Ed? Yeah? This is Willa Brandt. I'm at the City Morgue. About the girl with the fur coat, the one they pulled out of the river. Well? Well, her mother showed up here to identify her. A Mrs. Schmidt. That's the girl's name, Bessie Schmidt. But she also used the name of Sally Gardner. Why bother me? Write your story. I have! It's true. It's a cinch Mrs. Schmidt knows a lot more than she's telling. We thought that maybe if you talk... Don't bother. I'm busy. Okay, fine. It wasn't urgent after all. I can see it in your face. What else can you see in my face? Plenty. So I'd better tell it to you fast and straight. I'm getting married. Don't make jokes, Nora. You don't even know him, Ed. He's my boss at the advertising agent. Of course, me and I are another boss. It didn't be a habit for you, isn't it? I'd like you to meet him. Compare notes, you mean? Thanks. I know enough people already. His name's Louis Schaefer. I don't want to know anything about him. I told him all about you. Everything? Look, I'm not one of your modern husbands. Stiff upper lip and all that stuff. But I'm ready to discuss anything dissensibly. There isn't anything to discuss. I don't need your consent. Ed, we're divorced for two years. I don't recognize the divorce. You agreed to it. Well, I was wrong. You're my wife. Not only because somebody said a few words over us, but because of what we meant to each other. You can't change that with a piece of paper. Legal or otherwise. Another call, Mr. Duchess. Go away. You want me to quit the paper? Sure, the days as good as finished, but I quit the whole business. I get a job doing something else. I don't want you to quit, Ed. It's your whole life, and for you it's right, but I've got a right to a life, too, and you can't give it to me. Can he? Mr. Louis Schaefer? Yes, I think he can. Can you be the same with him as you were with me? Is it that easy? Do you love him? Head, please. No. No, you don't love him. Not the same way. Maybe love isn't enough to make a marriage work. All I know is that we're... I'm sorry, Mr. Duchess. It's Mr. Porter. He says if you won't come to the phone, then come back to the office, sir. You'd better talk to him. Sorry, Ed, Sally Gardner. But I told her... The story's been pulled by our advertising department. It seems that Sally was once a very good friend of Mr. Andrew Wharton. Wharton's department store? Right. Switch me to advertising. Give me Fenway. I'm in Fenway's office now. Here, talk to him. This is Fenway, Mr. Hutchison. I'm sorry, but it just seemed to me that this was libelous material. I was trying to protect us. Us or you, or Mr. Wharton? And for how much? Mr. Wharton denies... I don't care what he denies. The girl was murdered. But it's a matter of policy, Mr. Hutchison. Policy? Since when is the advertising department dictated on news policy? I didn't do this just on my own. I believe that. You went to Wharton. I talked to Kitty Garrison. It was on her authority. Kitty Garrison hasn't got the authority. Not until I'm off the paper. Or have you arranged for that, too? No, sir. You're slipping, Fenway. Mr. Wharton is here in the office. If you can't talk to him... I'll talk to Porter. Put him back on. Yes, sir. Yeah. Run the story. Wharton wants you to hear his side of it, Ed. So... All right. All right, I'll be there in 15 minutes. Evald, Mrs. Hutchison, sir. Well? She's gone, sir. She said to tell you that she won't be back. Thanks. Okay, Mr. Wharton. Now, what's your side of all this? I'm asking you please not to publish that story. Why, isn't it true? It can't do you much good. It'll ruin me. I've been doing business with this newspaper for years. And we need your business, Mr. Wharton. But not on these terms. All right. I made a mistake with Sally, and I've paid for it in blackmail ever since. What's the matter for the police? You're interested in facts, aren't you? Well, one day Sally phoned me. She was letting me off the hook. Said there was another man. There always is. In this case, the other man was Thomas Rienzi. Rienzi? Sally said she loved him. She'd never bother me again. She said she was set for life. What did she mean? I don't know. She didn't say. Surely you don't think I killed Sally. I haven't even seen her in two years. Mr. Hutchison, I've... I'm about to be married. If my fiancé hears about... Okay, we'll hold the story. Thank you. But if you're yarn about Rienzi, he doesn't gel it. It will. We both are sakes. Good night, Mr. Hutchison. Thank you again. Well... What have we got on Sally Gardner? We'll need proof that Rienzi... Since when are we going in for gossip? Since now. Okay. Tell Pa and Donald to go through the files. I want anything she can find. Anything at all. Send Thompson in from the sports desk. I want to see him. This is real interesting, Ed. Sally and Rienzi, huh? That's right, Thompson. Hey, from Miss Apollo could catch a hole in the head. Yeah, he could. That bother you? No, no, not at all. Her brother-in-law told me that Sally's got a brother. Her name's Herman Schmidt. Small-time stuff. He had some kind of a job as a political... Boxing judge or something. Yeah, that's right. Her brother, huh? Yeah, get hold of Schmidt, Thompson. Sweat him. We're short on facts. We're awful short on time. Now find Schmidt. Born dollars witness. You'll send her in. Thanks. You're next, sweetheart. Read what you got, Miss Born Dollar. Make it fast. Sally Gardner and her brother were born here. Her mother came from Germany. Father dead. No known criminal record for Sally. No recorded marriages. Yes? I'm Mr. Louis Schaefer to see you. Send him in when Born Dollar leaves. You come in too, Bentley. That's all for now, Miss Born Dollar. Yes, sir. Mr. Schaefer, come on in. Well, thank you. Happy to meet you, Mr. Hutchison. Coffee, Mr. Schaefer? Sandwich? No, thanks. I know you're busy. How's my wife? That's what I came to see you about. Don't ask you to come here. No. No, of course not. I thought that we could... Well, look, you're making her very unhappy. Why don't you let her alone, Mr. Hutchison? Your responsibility to you is over. Then what are you doing here? I'm only trying to do what's best for Nora. That's not only ridiculous, but insulting. You're not that much of a prize. Ed, here's a... Oh, excuse me. Well, what is it? Sally bought some government bonds five months ago. Sally or Rienzi? They're in her name. $40,000 worth. It took some doing, but we've got to check up working in every bank. Clary dug up some pictures of her, too. Ring them in, Clary. Now, maybe we're getting somewhere here. Take a look, Ed. Sally is a high school girl. Sally is a model. Sally is a show girl. Sally when she wakes at what? Sally in the city morgue. Thanks, Clary. Look up this hole between Wharton's department store and the river. And fill it full of Rienzi. Goodbye, Mr. Schaefer. I can't wish you luck, but you know how it is. There's something that you ought to know. Webster's calling you on 32, Mr. Hutchison. Put him on. Nora and I are getting married tomorrow night. Yeah, Bill. I thought it best not to delay any longer. You know how it is. Good night, Mr. Hutchison. Can you hear me? I'm backstage at the burlesque house. Go ahead. Rienzi's your boy, all right. Sally was a show girl here three years ago on a musical produced by Al Murray. The show was backed by Rienzi. Who says so? Murray, I'm with him now. I'll switch for a rewrite. Bentley, put Webster on a rewrite. Yes, sir. All right, Porter. We'll use the Willow Brand story but kill our reference about Wharton. Throw in a picture of Sally. Just a face. No art study. All right. Tell Barn Dollar I want a complete check on Louis Schaefer. He runs the United Advertising Agency. Anything from Thompson yet? Nothing. Switch him over as soon as he calls in. Bentley. Yes, sir. Ten something to borrow at the hospital. Get us some books, flowers, a bottle of whiskey. I don't know. Find out what he likes. Yes, sir. Bring me some hot coffee. Mr. Smith. I know you're in there, Mr. Smith. So you might as well... Don't move, Mr. Sit down at the table. Put your hands on the table. What's with the gun, Herman? I'm only here to help you. My name's Thompson. Sports reporter for the day. Sports, huh? What'd you write today? Well, a constant reader. It's fine. I got the paper right here. So what'd you write? The question of televising next season's baseball games was discussed at the heated station of the Hot Stove League yesterday afternoon. Okay. What do you want? Do you mind putting that thing away? You'll find me. I know a lot of people in the fight game. They owe me favors. They're collected if you... All right, all right. Get to it. Why did Rianzi kill your sister? Did he? And who are you afraid of, Herman? Why this hideout? One room in a crummy tenement. Get out. Well, first, I'd better mention that I've phoned your address to the paper. They know where I am. By next edition, Rianzi will know where you are, too. Maybe so, maybe not. Where you're only chance, Herman. Let me take you back to the office. You'll be safe there. If you don't, Rianzi's gonna find you. You'll wind up in the morgue next to Sally. You think you know something, huh? I know that as long as Rianzi is free, you're a dead pigeon. But take your time. He won't get his copy of the day with your address until morning. I'll wait while you think it over. Ed, it's past midnight. No word yet from Thompson? Nothing. You know what day this is? It's Thursday. Nine o'clock and the story gets caught. You're gonna be there? All this for what? The obituary of a newspaper. Yeah, I'll be there. This court has been petitioned to approve the sale of the publication enterprises known as The Day. I have carefully read the last will and testament of the deceased, John Garrison, and I find nothing therein to prevent such a sale. Your Honor. Yes, Mrs. Garrison? Your Honor, I object to the sale of this newspaper to Mr. White. Oh, how can you object? But this request for sale was signed by you, Mrs. Garrison. I've changed my mind. Your Honor, we are completely unprepared for this most embarrassing change of heart. I assure you I had no idea. What about Mrs. Garrison's two daughters? They want to sell, Your Honor, and they constitute a majority. My husband would not have wished this paper to be sold to Mr. White. But you knew all along that Mr. White was the purchaser. I did not know that the day was going to be rubbed out of existence, which it will be if this contract is approved. I have priority of purchase, Mr. Crane. I'll buy the day myself. I'll raise Mr. White's offer. But you don't seem to realize. I don't see why you should object to my daughters receiving more money, Mr. Crane. That's what they're selling for, isn't it? You can't do this, Mother. I can. I want to, and I'm going to. What good will it do? You're making us sound like fools. You'll be happy to know that stupidity is not hereditary. You acquired it all by yourselves. What changed your mind about selling? Have you seen today's paper? And yesterday's? Loyalty. Loyalty has changed my mind. You haven't got the money to buy the paper. I'll get it. You're crazy. No. Just ashamed. Ashamed of you and ashamed of myself. Now, if you'll keep quiet, I think the judge wants to say something. I shall require time to consider Mrs. Garrison's request. You'll all be notified when this court will reconvene. It now stands adjourned. Mr. Hutchison. Well? My name's Hanson. I'm an attorney. Couldn't I see you just now at the Garrison hearing? It was a real nice hearing. You representing Mr. White? No. I work for Mr. Rienzi. He's waiting to see you in his car. Why? It's personal business. The car's right here, Mr. Hutchison. Mr. Hutchison, can I give you a lift someplace? Why? I'm an associable type. They're expecting me at the office. We'll be glad to take you. Okay, Frank? I wondered when and how you'd get around to this. Yeah? Yeah. I expected something a little more poetic. There's no poetry in an almond car. I think I like you, Hutchison. A man with imagination. They tell me you're a good newspaper man. You're not bad at your trade, either. But they say you're a hothead. Who's they? Friends. I got friends everywhere. I like for you to be my friend. Thanks. You're not my type. You ever meet me before? Do business with me? Maybe you've got the wrong impression, huh? Now, here's the newspaper. The day. My family reads the paper. It's not nice what you print. I got a nice family, Mr. Hutchison. Sometime I'd like for you to meet them. There's no point in that unless they're the ones that almost kill boroughs. Boroughs? Never beat up a reporter, they say. It's like killing a cop, they say. Never drop girls in the river, they say. Not even with four coats, they say. What have I got to do with reporters? Our girls. I'm in the contracting business. Capone was in the insurance business. You've got to sense a humor, friend. Then why don't you laugh? Very funny. Tomorrow's paper will be even funnier. There. That's a Rienzi I like to see. This way you start shooting, friend? What are you supposed to be, a little ten-guard? You got a safer world? A hero or something? Know about what you print in the paper. My lawyer says I can sue you for this. Well? What you're doing's been tried before. Nobody could ever make it stick. Then you got nothing to worry about. That's the office, just down the block. They're all right, Frank. The gentleman's office. Cops, tax collectors, politicians, they all got an angle. What's yours? Come on, name it. What do you want? I want to see you in prison. Thanks for the lift. Well? I just met the man. Sometimes these things take time. Only maybe I... Wait a minute. Yeah? They're going to the newspaper building. Those two guys. Schmidt. That's Schmidt. We've been looking all over for him. Who's with him? I don't know. I never saw him before. Sally's brother working in her newspaper office, huh? Drive her on the block. I got to make a phone call fast. You know, every once in a while, the sounds of war yield to a nicer note. Such a one came from Korea, from the 27th Regiment of the 25th Infantry Division. It's an outfit of superb combat soldiers who built a legendary reputation in the Korean fighting. But they built something else along with it. When they were stationed in Osaka, Japan in 1949, they learned that a small orphanage was in bad shape. Poor buildings, little clothing, and no assurance from day to day that there would even be enough food for the more than 150 kids who called it home. Well, the regiment adopted that orphanage. They began to take up collections. They contributed food and medicine and clothing. And when the regiment moved to the Korean battlefront, the work went on. Their first payday in combat, those guys deducted a half million yen and sent it back to Japan for their orphanage. Well, you can bet those kids have never forgotten the men of the 27th. Such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. We pause now for station identification. The curtain rises on Act 3 of Deadline USA, starring Dan Daly as Ed Hutchison and Deborah Padgett as Nora. The door of Ed Hutchison's office is closed. With Potter, the city editor, he's entertaining a guest, Herman Schmidt, brother of the murdered girl. All right, Schmidt, from the beginning. How much? I told you before. $1,000 after you testify against Rienzi. Yes or no? Where do you want me to start? Sally and Rienzi. Well, they liked each other. A few weeks ago, Sally bought $40,000 worth of government bonds. Rienzi pay for them? Yeah, I guess so. You're a liar. Rienzi was part of the $200,000 that Rienzi gave at a hole for them. What $200,000? Why would a guy part with that kind of scratch? The city bank says your sister rented a safety deposit box. She gave it up a month ago on the same day that she moved out of her apartment. Why? Okay, it's true. He gave her the money to hold for them. When he wanted it back, she got scared. He'd make a break. She said as long as she kept the cash, he'd stick. It didn't work out that way. Hey, Ed, Mrs. Garrison wants to see if he's waiting upstairs. Farler, when did you find out Sally was dead? Oh, I read about it in the paper. She was dead three days before the paper got us. Your mother says you left the house last Saturday and didn't come back. My mother? We've got some good reporters meant they got around. Sally was killed that same Saturday night. Well, so what? I leave the house lots of times. Well, for weeks sometimes. To hide out? You were afraid of Rianzi. Why? Maybe you knew he was going there, huh? To Sally's place? I didn't even know where she lived. The LaRoy Hotel. She registered under the name of Bessie Schmidt and never left the room. She had only two visitors, Herman. Your mother and you. You were there Saturday night. Well, I don't remember. But maybe I was. Yeah, she phoned me. The desk clerk says you phoned her from the lobby. At 1.20 a.m. Are we to tell a truth or we turn you loose? No money, no protection. Rianzi will kill you. Okay. Okay, Rianzi wanted his money. They couldn't find out where Sally was living. So you showed them? Why? What did Rianzi promise you? Well, he got me my job. I owed him money. I couldn't pay. He said the favor would square us. All you had to do was put the finger on your own sister. Well, I didn't know what they were going to do. I swear I didn't know. Who's they? Rianzi and who else? No, no, not Rianzi. He sent men. Three men. I got scared. I ran out. That's all I know. Honest. The next day I heard Rianzi's looking for me. He was afraid I was going to talk. I found a room and I've been there ever since. Type up a statement. Paul, I have him sign it. Get the names of those three men. I'll go upstairs and see Mrs. Garrison. About Louis Schaefer, that information you requested. Walk with me to the elevator. Yes, sir. Louis Schaefer, age 42. Only child of John and Harriet Schaefer of the chemical fortune. Ever married? No, sir. Any arrests? None on the record, sir. Alcoholic swindler? Maybe he's a fiend. You know he looked like one. You check his army record, maybe he's a spy. You got the Silver Star and the Purple Heart. Oh, that's our rotten report, Miss Bondala. Thanks anyway. I've been keeping me waiting. I know. Two things, Ed. First, Rianzi started his libel suit. We were served with papers half an hour ago. Second? K is going to hand down his decision tonight at nine. Tonight? How come so soon? Because of the libel suit. Oh, one thing more. That one percent you were promised. Alice and Kitty changed their minds. What took them so long? I've been to the bank, Ed. They're willing to loan me the money if we cut expenses four percent. I think you can do it. I'll do better than that. Yes, go ahead, Porter. He what? What are you talking about? Yes, yes, I'll be right down. No, what? A man was just shot to death in the press room. A man named Herman Schmidt. They were working on his written statement when they walked in. Three men in police uniform. They said they had a warrant for Schmidt. And you let them take him? They looked and acted like policemen. I tried to stop them. Go ahead, what happened? Schmidt made a break. He ran down to the press room. He almost got away, but then they started shooting. The plates are there now. You better get down there. What about Schmidt's confession? Do we run it anyway? Do you want to sign statement? We're dead, Porter. We're as cold as Herman Schmidt. I'll get Mrs. Garrison to take her home. Hello. Yeah. For you, Mr. Lienzi. It's whitey. Now give it in. Yeah. But I told you I didn't want anything like it. This is stupid, stupid. Well, get on here now, all three of you. And find Sally's old lady. Bring in Mrs. Schmidt. I want to talk to her. Sit down, Ed. I'll get you a drink. You know, Mrs. Garrison, no paper ever did a better, faster, more thorough job. All we needed was that one bit of evidence, and we had it. We had it as long as Schmidt was alive. I figured if we could get an indictment against Lienzi, they'd let the day stay in business. Ah, we are licked, Ed. But we showed them how a real newspaper can function. You're quite a girl. They must have made them different in your day. Yeah. More durable. More pliable. Girls these days have stuff, but they're brittle. They break more easily. Plenty of stuff, but no heart. Meaning Nora? Meaning Nora. There will now be a respectable silence while we feel sorry for ourselves. Well, she had no right to walk out on me. She's my wife. You wouldn't have a wife if a newspaper had beautiful legs. Sure. But you never walked out on John Garrison. Who said so? You must have had a pretty good reason. The best. A bride always likes to think she's indispensable. But I woke up one morning and he was gone. Back to the paper to do the Lusitania story. I walked out. Yeah, but you came back. Two days later. He didn't even know I'd been gone. He loved you. Exceedingly. Between additions. Oh, but don't blame Nora. Unless she wants to come back, it won't work. If she stays away... We can look for a newspaper with nice legs. Well, court convenes in exactly one half hour. You're going to be there? Maybe. Will you marry me, Mrs. Garrison? Go away, Ed. You're much too old. How are you, Mr. Yenzi? Nothing yet. I'm Mrs. Schmidt. They're still looking for her. They'll find her. I know a lady like her. Where can she go? She's got to be silenced. You understand? By her off. Send her back to Europe. You're getting panicky, Hanson. She's my business. Do you realize that? Maybe a trial, even. Sure. But I'm not worried, see? We've been through this sort of thing before. We're still in business. The story's printed in the newspaper. So what? Tomorrow it's all news. They take the paper and wrap garbage in it. In a week, the people forget. But if they keep on printing... They won't. If they keep us in the news until the trial, if they heat up the public... You take care of your end. I'll handle the papers. I just won't handle easily. He's got nothing. What's he got with Schmidt out of the way? That won't stop him. And he won't stop us. Tomorrow he won't even have a paper. The court will take it away from him. And if they don't, we'll take him away from the paper. Maybe they all need an example. You're crazy. Am I? Now we'll wait and see. And so the court has arrived at a decision. I can see no reason why the day should not be sold to Mr. White. I will, however, listen to any further evidence or arguments. Mrs. Garrison. There's nothing to say, Judge McCabe. May I say something, Your Honor? If Your Honor, please. Well, Mr. Graham. Since Mr. Hutchison is not one of the heirs, and since I'm sure he's not here in the interest of Mr. White, whom does he presume then to represent? I represent the paper. Which is not yours in the first place. That's true. But the day is a lot more than a building, and furniture, and presses. It's people. 1500 men and women whose skill and experience make a great newspaper possible. We don't own one share of stock, but we, along with the 300,000 people who read this paper, have a vital interest in whether it lives or dies. I suggest this is most irregular, Your Honor. So is the murder of a newspaper. So is the unfinished business called Rienzi. If you read the day, you'd know what I mean. I don't care to discuss Rienzi. This newspaper does. I don't question your good intentions, Mr. Hutchison, but they hardly concern us here tonight. They concern the public tonight, and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. But the day isn't the only good newspaper in town, Mr. Hutchison. Right now it's the only newspaper willing to expose Rienzi. Mr. Hutchison, there are certain rules of procedure. We are concerned now only with the legal aspects of the sale. What happens after Mr. White takes possession is outside the jurisdiction of this court. But whose jurisdiction is it, sir? Just a moment. Since when is it immoral for someone to legally purchase a newspaper? I don't care if Mr. White buys out another paper, or 20 papers. But I do care when he buys a newspaper to put it out of business. Because without competition, freedom of the press can't exist. I'm talking about the right of the public to a marketplace of ideas, of news and opinions. Not those of one man, or of one leader, or even one government. Well, I guess that's all I have to say. The existing contract is valid, made in good faith. As of tomorrow, the Lawrence White publications will assume control of the day. What's the journey? Ed, thanks for trying. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Garrison, I better phone the office. Lead off for the morning edition. The day after 47 years of daily publication was sold last night. But we still got a paper until tomorrow. Get back here, Ed. Why? Willowbrand's got Mrs. Smith here. She wants the boss. She won't talk to anyone else. I think we've got something, Ed. Something big. Ed, this is Mrs. Smith. She wandered in on her own, looking for you. Here he is, Mrs. Smith. You are boss? Yes. I am mother of Bessie. About your son, too. I'm very sorry. I do not come about that. I have here books, shoe books. In it are papers, papers of money here. You look. I'll say there's money. Now, my Bessie, she comes to me and she says, here, mama, you keep this. Something happens to me, you do not have to vary. This little book, Bessie's diary? Yeah, yeah, she writes down what happens to her and this Mr. Ian. She writes it down there. Forty, you better call the police. And we're getting out the final edition as usual. Mrs. Smith, why didn't you go to the police? Police? I do not know police. I know newspaper, this newspaper. For thirty-one years, I know this paper. I come to America. I wish to be good citizen. How to do this? From newspaper, it, it show me how to read, how to write. And when Bessie dies, you do not say bad things like other newspapers. Now you want to find who hurt my Bessie. That's good, I, I help. I think what to do. I go on subway, I, I ride all day. Then I'm here. By doing this, you may be in danger, like your son. You are not afraid? I am not afraid. Thanks. Hello, Porter. Why, Mrs. Hutchison? Or is it Mrs. Schaefer? No, no, of course not. Where is Ed? In the press room. Has he lost the paper? Yeah. What's he going to do? Get out the last edition, and it ought to be quite a paper. We've got proof on Rienzi. Sally's mother, she came to Ed with everything. And then what? He looked for another job, I guess, like the rest of us. Is it all right if I go down to the press room? I guess you still know where it is. Sure, go ahead. All right. Yes? Thomas Rienzi, Mr. Hutchison, he wants to talk to you. I told him you were in the press room. Put him on. Hello. Hutchison. Hello, baby. How do you feel? That's right. There's some loose cash in my office that belongs to you. $160,000. Oh, and there's something else, too. A diary. Sally's diary. You know what? Who's going to believe what a dame like that writes to herself? I don't know. Ask your lawyer. There's something else that might interest you. We are accusing you of Sally's murder. Look, before you hang up, here's some advice to you. Don't you press your luck. You're laid off on me. Don't print that story. What's that? An order? If not tonight, then tomorrow. Maybe next week, maybe next year. But sooner or later, you'll catch it. Someone would be not up to talk like this. You forget something, Rienzi. It's not just me anymore. You'd have to stop every paper in the country now and you're not big enough for that job. People like you, you've tried it before. Bullets, prisons, censorship. But as long as even one paper prints the truth, you're finished. I don't want double talk. Just an answer. Yes or no? What time is it? Ten thirty. That's when we go to press. Ten thirty. You want your answer? Listen. Yes or no? It's too late now, Rienzi. You hear that? That's the press. And there's nothing you can do about it. Nothing. You walked out on me at Alberta's. I'd like to go back for dessert. You got time. All the time in the world. Let's go. In a moment, our stars will return. The occupation of the Japanese city of Yokosuka is a good example of democracy at work. The first thing our troops had to do was clean up their own area. But then, they looked at the devastation, the sickness, and the low morale of the people around them, and they set to work. To create better living conditions, they demolished rotten, rat-infested buildings. They converted unused buildings into school rooms, gymnasiums, and chapels. And with their own funds, they furnished much of the equipment. For health, they covered the city giving anti-tuberculosis shots, typhoid inoculations, X-ray pictures, and smallpox vaccinations. To raise the spirits of the people, they started boys' clubs, women's clubs, Red Cross groups. The occupation is over now, but the Japanese have had a taste of democracy. They like it. They've seen it work. Such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. Now, here's Mr. Cummings with our stars. And here they are for a well-deserved curtain call. Dan Daley and Deborah Patton. Well, Dan, how does it feel to have your dancing shoes off for a change? Very comfortable, Irving. You know, I loaned them to Deborah to go to Norfolk, Virginia. The opening of 20th Century Fox's new picture, Titanic, starring Clifton Webb and Barbara Stanwyck. Yes, Irving. A group of us flew there to entertain at the premiere, which was dedicated to the Navy Relief Fund. I wish you could have been there, Dan. Well, I've already done my chef a Navy Relief. When was that? When I joined the Army. Boy was the Navy Relief. Oh, I see. Oh, I'm sure both the Army and Navy would fight together. Oh, no. The other type they fight to get, Deborah. You remind them of the girl next door. I would? Well, if you wouldn't, I would. Because it's my latest picture of a 20th Century Fox co-starring with June Haver. It's called The Girl Next Door. I think you'll both agree that next week's show is just wonderful, because we're going to tell the heartwarming story of one of the most glamorous couples in show business. It's Paramount Pictures' screen hit, Somebody Loves Me, and recreating her original role as the entrancing Blossom Sealy, we'll have Betty Hutton co-starring with Jean Barry as Benny Field. What a great story that is, Irving. Good night. Good night, and we'll be seeing you. The Hollywood Radio Theater is produced by Mr. Irving Cummings. Our orchestra is under the direction of Rudy Schrager. This is Ken Carpenter inviting you to join us next week at this same time for another presentation of the Hollywood Radio Theater. Hollywood Radio Theater is a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service.