Original subtitles

On A &E.

Hello, I'm calling from the trip.

I'd like to confirm...

Agreed, then.

It's okay by me. I'll call Waxman first thing in the morning.

Tell me, how many people work in editorial at night?

I mean, all night long.

Well, a dozen, I guess. Why?

Can't they be in the light to at least turn them down? They're always on full

blast. Sometimes I'm downtown after midnight. This place is lit up like

City. I speak, Commander.

What are you doing downtown after midnight?

Feeding pigeons.

You remind me of my old man.

He used to come home at night and say, do we have to...

Support Con Ed and go around snapping off guys. Yeah, they

want

you and two minor league writers.

Great.

We'll be long.

How do you know where they are, Wayne Waxman? I won't tell anybody.

Oh, see, I can't figure that. You know it. Whatever it is, it's too much. Did

you see the speech on metric conversion?

Not exactly.

Exciting. That's fun.

Such a sexy topic.

No, seriously. If you're good enough to be brought to the coffee, you should be

able to make a story sing.

Do we still have that sewer acceptance thing on the assignment sheet?

Not too much vibrato.

I've got nothing against Waxman. A lot of people think he's great.

Just, he disappoints me.

Depends on what he's got to work with.

Look, any story can be a gem. There are gems all around us.

Any person walking past us right now is a story that could make the paper.

Any of these people?

That's right.

Are we willing to wager, or are we merely warming the air with our breath?

No, let's bet on it.

Dinner. You're on.

I get to pick the person. Go ahead.

No.

How about him?

You'll get that story.

Excuse me, what are you doing?

I have a permit to do this.

Why would somebody throw out these tomatoes?

Who's the food for?

Friends of mine.

Listen, my name's Joe Rossi. I'm with the Tribune.

Would you mind telling me what's going on?

Who are your friends?

Is there food for you?

Hey, it's no crime to be hungry, you know.

Yes, it is.

A tiempo.

Give me a hand.

Oops.

Well, get in.

Hi, guys. The lunch coming, okay?

Let's start washing the carrots, okay?

You're operating a soup kitchen. Yes, we are.

Who runs it?

The Sisters of Mount Olive.

You're a nun.

Oh, boy.

What's the matter?

Nothing, nothing.

Just, uh, I used to be a Catholic once, myself.

Go on into the dining room. I'll be with you in a minute. Right, sister.

Thank you.

If you want something, just step up to the counter.

Oh, no thanks.

Would you mind telling me your name?

Louise Frawley.

Joe Rossi.

Are you going to write a story about what we're doing here?

Maybe, maybe.

How come these people aren't on food stamps?

Well, a lot of them aren't eligible.

And some get stamps, but they don't last out the month.

And some just somehow use the system to get the food they need.

These people are unable to cope, so it's our job to help them.

Some of these people look like they don't belong.

Guy over there in the brown suit.

Looks like he's in pretty good shape. So?

Isn't it possible he's ripping you off?

Yeah, it's possible.

What do you want us to do, close down the place because of him?

Just asking.

Can you give me some statistics on the kitchen? How many people per week? How

many meals?

You don't think you've got a story, do you?

Look, this place is pretty familiar as a holiday piece, you know.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, I need to find a fresh angle.

What time do you go to work in the morning?

I get in on a night.

Well, then you have time.

I'll meet you here tomorrow morning at six.

Six.

Do I look about three inches shorter than when I left here this morning?

What's the matter? I got that dinky company car again.

Do I have to get to the garage by 7 a .m. to beat Cy Wood to the man -sized

cars? Those compacts turned me into a pretzel. Hey, from now on, I want a

-sized loaner. No more bumper cars, okay?

Sorry, animal. The last word for Mrs. Pinchon is that all company cars will be

economy -sized from now on.

If I were you, I'd have my legs shortened.

Swell.

Good morning, Mrs.

McClain. How are you this morning?

Who is this?

He's a reporter.

Now, I'm going to write a story for the Tribune. You can read about yourself.

I've got cataracts.

Oh, well, maybe someone can read it to you then.

Oh, that would be nice.

Eat your food while it's hot.

Thank you, sister.

We'll see you tomorrow.

What would happen to her if she didn't have you?

Well, she does have us.

How come you didn't bring a photographer?

Why?

If you could get a couple of good shots, it might help the story get a better

position. Sister Louise, don't expect to make page one with us.

I have great confidence in you, Joe.

Good morning, Mr. Brubaker.

You're late. It's half past six. I'm sorry.

Our cook had some stove trouble.

Is there meat today?

It's fish.

And vegetables. I'd like a little lamb sometime. I like lamb. Why don't we ever

have it?

We'll try.

Okay? See you tomorrow.

Doesn't it bother you when people aren't grateful?

There isn't much to be grateful for.

I do.

Why did you choose this kind of work?

My father was an engineer.

And my mom and brothers and I traveled a lot.

When I was ten...

Dad was on a job in Chile.

I was shocked by the poverty.

I've never seen people starving before.

As Americans, we ate like kings every night. Right outside, people were sick

from lack of food.

So I started reading about nutrition, farming.

I got to be a regular nut on the subject.

When it came time to choose my work, I knew what I wanted to do.

Well, I guess there's just too many people in the world and not enough food

go around.

Nonsense. There's plenty of food.

So how'd we do?

Maxwell didn't have any earthquakes, and Porn had only one assassination

attempt. He won you dinner.

Yo!

Where did Charlie put it? Tell her to keep printing papers.

She's not going to be happy if it's buried.

Tell her to count her blessings.

She also counts pages.

Morning, sister.

Good morning.

Did you see a story in the Tribune last week?

They gave it a very prominent place, did they?

Here, I've got something for you.

The story wasn't so hidden that nobody noticed. People read about the kitchen,

sent in checks and cash.

Total was $286.

God bless them.

Bill, I'm disappointed the story got such a poor spot in the paper.

Sister, you're lucky.

If anyone else had written that soup kitchen stuff, it wouldn't have even

the paper.

You've got to write a better story.

Something that'll make your editors sit up.

Something so little known, they'd push it right up. to the front page.

We call it page one and I don't see it happening around here. Not here, not

in Los Angeles.

Now why is this child dying?

Is she?

I don't know why.

Sounds like the beginning of a pretty good story, doesn't it?

Lou Grant will continue in a moment here on A &E.

Her name is Bibiana.

She lives in the village of Escalon in Malagua.

What is she dying of?

Pneumonia, influenza, malaria, three or four other things.

She's vulnerable to any number of diseases.

One of them will do it.

This is a long way from L .A. How does this make the paper?

Her father's a farmer.

This year, Malagua produced more food than ever before.

So tell me, why is she starving?

I give up.

Why is she?

I'm going to have to figure it out for myself.

Oh, a puzzle.

Fun. I think she's conning me into writing this thing, but actually, it's a

story. See, she spent five years in Milan. It's not metro.

Whatever the girl's problem is, it's happening thousands of miles from here.

belongs to foreign or financial.

Her brother plays baseball, it belongs to sports.

A few days ago, we passed this woman in the street.

Well, no, I know. She made the newspaper.

Well, Sister Louise led me to Bibiana. It's the same story. It's developing.

Well, I see you got yourself a dinner at McKenna's. That's it.

So I'm pressing the bet. If this story doesn't make page one, I'm taking you to

that expensive French joint. What's it called?

Marchomier? Yeah.

But I'm going to need a little time with this one.

Unravel the mystery.

It's a mystery, all right.

Bibiana.

Starving?

Miss Rossi, this is Bill Cho. U .S. Chargé d 'Affaires, Miramonte Malagua.

Yes, thanks for returning my call, Mr. Cho.

I'm trying to contact a little girl from the village of Escalon.

Her name is Bibiana Buschiano, and her father is a farmer.

Escalon? I never heard of it.

Let me check.

Just a second here.

G4. Here it is. A very small village in the foothill.

Just barely on the map. There would be no telephone communication, probably not

much of a road.

How can I get some information on this little girl?

What do you want to know?

Well, I heard she is malnourished and she's about to die.

Well, that's strange.

Our government has given Malagua $700 million over the past 10 years.

Much of that is... gone into building up their agriculture.

I can tell you people are eating fairly well here in Miramonte. Food is cheap.

Could it be different in the cities than it is in the rural areas?

I suppose it could.

I'm kind of pinned down here in the capital. Don't get into the boondocks

But, Mr. Rossi, you have to be careful when you hear negative things about our

activities in countries like Malagua.

You mean it could be just anti -American talk?

I found it often is.

Who's available?

Sweeney's got back trouble.

Rosenthal's changing entire wives.

I've got to send somebody over to City Hall. A young lady has handcuffed

to the mayor's ankle.

Why'd she do that?

Some kind of a protest.

City stops her family from selling stuffed animals on speech porn. You guys

a lot to come?

No. There's a key out the window.

Mayor's supposed to fly to San Diego today.

He may have to take her with him.

How's he going to explain that to Mrs. Mayor?

Great. Talk around here.

Rossi!

Yes, sir? Are you free?

You go to City Hall for me?

Actually, I have an interview with a guy from DTW.

Department of... You got me what?

Developmental Third World. What's that for?

Oh, some piece I'm doing for Luke.

Something you're doing for yourself.

Look, I need you, Ross. You're some nut who's handcuffed yourself to the mayor.

What? We'd better cover it.

Okay, I'll do it first. Maybe I can be late for my appointment. Okay, I'll send

a photographer over to City Hall to meet you, but hurry up before somebody gets

there with a hacksaw. Okay.

What's the piece he's working on? It's the same item about the nun.

Actually, it's not going anywhere, but I thought I'd let him chase it for five

minutes.

Lou, did you okay borrow San Francisco expenses?

Yes.

See these figures on Newman's trip to the airbase?

Yes. I guess you're throwing this other stuff.

If there's an LG at the bottom, I sell it.

You know, what we pay for business lunches has doubled in the last few

Is it necessary to take a source to a fashionable restaurant?

Whatever happened to good and reasonable?

If you can get a story from a source and a fancy meal helps, that's getting off

cheap.

Feeling a little pregnant from upstairs.

Listen, you know me. If you really need it, you got it.

Spending when you don't have to, it hurts.

Next time I initial a lunch voucher, you want me to snarl?

Try. I can't say categorically that nobody is starving in Malagua.

But I'm surprised to hear it. They're doing so much better today than they

10, 20 years ago.

Much better.

The production of food has doubled in the last few years. They're exporting

now. They even had a surplus that they had trouble moving.

How did they increase production?

It's largely through their own efforts, of course.

But we have built 1 ,500 miles of road for them. We've also constructed six or

seven dams and given them a good irrigation system.

You can increase the amount of food a country produces and very little may be

getting to the poor if they have no land.

No jobs, no money to buy food. What good is it? It's true, poverty exists in

Malagua. Lack of jobs is a problem.

But we're attacking food shortages.

Our critics, Mr. Rossi, usually don't like the political or economic system of

that country.

What are we to tell the Malaguans, for instance, that their form of government

is no good?

That's not our job.

When money is given by one government to another, a deal is made.

Each government gets something.

It's political.

On the other hand, when groups like ours go in, we go straight to the people.

There's no deal. When DTW builds roads and dams, isn't that serving all

Third world development helps farmers who are already well off.

It's the wealthy ones who use the roads, the water, the irrigation systems to

make more money, buy up more land.

Come on, even the poor farmer needs roads to get to market.

Water is good, irrigation is good. At least we're trying to give them the

they need.

It's not our fault that the rich farmer benefits too. The ones who own the land

benefit.

And a lot of them are also in the military.

The poor get nothing.

Our programs are more and more focused on the landless.

The peasants, the very poor.

We're constantly encouraging land reform, but we can't shove it down their

throats. At this point in our discussion, the problem may seem

But don't let that be an excuse to do nothing.

You have to be careful who's influencing you.

You're not going to get an objective view listening to revolutionaries.

I've been called that before.

Isn't DTW doing something about the problem? I mean, isn't $700 million

something? They're doing such a good job.

Why did Bibiana die last week?

Lou Grant will continue in a moment here on A &E.

Dear Senor Ross, I thank you for your lovely... I think that's kind.

Right. Your kind concern for my daughter, Viviana.

Your sympathy has touched us. Our beloved Viviana was our youngest, and

death has... Destroyed her.

I know.

She died of pneumonia.

To answer your question...

No tenemos nuestro campo más.

They don't have land anymore.

We no longer have our land because I was in debt and lost.

Two of my sons work on farms for other people de vez en cuando.

From time to time.

Sometimes.

My oldest daughter has gone to live in Miramonte. Nos envía plata.

He sends us money.

I have four other children.

Están bien de salud and they are healthy.

Un fuerte abrazo. A strong hug.

A warm embrace.

Un momentito.

What?

Your Hancock Park story will run today.

Good. But I need three more graphs. Check your notes and see if you can pad

without letting me know you're padded.

Okay.

Charlie?

Yeah. Got a minute?

Sure.

The cost of styrofoam cups is considerable when used in astronomical

Please try to economize.

You can use the same cup twice, or we suggest you bring a cup from home.

Thank you. The Tribune manager.

Is that you, Charlie?

It is not. It's the eighth floor.

Lou, this is my cup. I'm putting my name on it, and I don't want you using it.

I think I'll find some old ones and wash them out.

Oh, I am in trouble.

I've got to find a Malaguan student to talk to, and if the Castillo doesn't

anything...

Then I'll be desperate.

No, you won't.

Desperate is when you end up looking for a Malaguan student in every park in

Mountain Town.

Thanks.

Well, I'm glad to see you learned how to drive L .A. style.

You know, it's unbelievable.

When I first got this job, I did not know how to drive. Can you believe that?

Yeah. Well, you can always take lessons when you leave here.

Let me try to answer some of your questions. Okay.

In the old days in Malawi, before we were a colony, people were raising crops

order to feed themselves. You know, they grew corn, yams, bananas, beans.

Well, these Europeans come and they take a look around and they say, we need

this. These people are growing food just to feed themselves.

We can't make any money on that.

So the farmers were encouraged to grow other crops so they could export them.

And so they grew cotton, coffee, sugar, things like that. Nobody held a gun to

their heads, did they?

No, they didn't have to do that. They just taxed them or loaned them money.

And then the natives had to grow coffee or tobacco in order to pay off the taxes

and the loans.

Yeah, but if they were raising cash crops, at least they were making some

Yeah, but sometimes business is bad and nobody wants to buy what you've got.

And you can eat coffee or cotton.

Yeah, they leave a dry taste in your mouth.

Oh.

I'll sit this one out.

Viviana's father said he got into debt and lost his land. Does that happen much

down there?

Of course, the money lenders get them.

How's that?

At harvest, the farmers sell their crop. But that's the worst time because

there's plenty of food and prices are low. During the year, they run out of

money. So what do they do?

Borrow.

And they pay big interest for the money.

If they have a bad year, the money man comes around and says, give me your

You got it. That's what happens all the time.

But Juan, how can you beat that?

If the government really wants to help the poor farmer, give him cheap credit.

That puts the money lender out of business, bam, right away.

So why don't they do that?

It's politics.

You know, maybe the farmer should take his president out to dinner sometime.

Oh, it's starting to get very busy. I'll park this car very fast.

This one's going to be fast?

I don't want to see it.

Well, see, how long have you been on this story?

About two and a half weeks.

You think you can become an expert on food in two and a half weeks?

I didn't say I was an expert. You know, maybe this isn't a story for us.

Maybe it's too tough for us to get a handle on. You breaking news reporters

think you can go out, fill your pad with notes, write the definitive article on

anything. Hey, Phil, take it easy.

We were all breaking news reporters once, even you.

Why don't you talk to a couple of hundred people and come back in about a

Okay, maybe I don't have it all. Forget the maybe, you don't have it. Okay,

guys.

Charlie and I wanted Rossi to run a story past you to see if he has

What do you think?

Rossi, have you ever heard of the lightboat theory?

Tell me about it. Most countries are in the same boat, and the boat is full.

And there are a lot of nations out there in the water. If we start pulling them

all aboard, we'll swamp the boat and everybody will drown.

Cute analogy.

I didn't invent it.

Rossi, I know where you're coming from with this food business.

These poor countries should raise more food to eat and less food to export.

That's right. But isn't a farmer going to raise what pays him the most dough? I

mean, why raise yams if tobacco pays more?

Look, don't we all go to the job that pays us the most?

I guess we do. You can't ignore the marketplace.

All I know is Malagua is exporting food. Lots of it. And there are starving

people down there.

Well, why is that? You think their leaders don't want to feed their people?

Are they all supposed to be villains or stupid?

From what I've learned, in any country in the world, a farmer owns his own land

or at least has some say about what he grows and can make a little money out of

it. He will produce. He'll produce plenty.

The problem is poverty.

And land reform.

What are you suggesting? That they should have a revolution?

They've had plenty of revolutions.

They have a bloody coup every six weeks. The same types stay in power. They just

change the names of the generals.

Oh, okay, Rossi. You've got all the answers.

I have an opinion. I'm sorry.

How do we do this thing? It's so damn complex.

You can't agree. Even the experts can't agree.

We'll see you when we're outside.

Well, let's talk it over.

What's the matter?

Nothing, nothing.

I'm just sick of this. You know what all that is? Feeding me like a rookie.

One of these days, we'll rush him.

Listen, now.

I need a little advice.

Yeah? I'm taking this nun to dinner tonight.

My advice is don't cry.

Do you have a suggestion of a place I could take her? All I can think of are

steak joints and sushi bars.

Huh.

On 6th Street, near Berendo, there's a little French restaurant.

Um, L 'Aquo.

You might like that. Is it quiet?

Yes, it's nice.

Not too nice, I hope. I can just see her now asking for a doggie bag from

Alagua. Posse, I think you've done some okay work on this story.

You've dug in deep and pulled up some interesting material.

Yeah, I think I have.

But Charlie and I don't see where it's going.

You're going to have to drop it.

I'm sorry, but we need you on three or four other things.

Bad.

Yeah.

Boy, I hope Sister Louise likes the food at La Coupole. It's not going to like

the conversation.

The lettuce is local. It's probably Imperial Valley.

The little tomatoes come from Mexico, and the artichokes, I'd guess, from the

Dominican Republic.

Please, sister, take a night off. Enjoy your hair about a second.

The prices are outrageous.

Sixteen dollars for a steak?

What do you care? You're not having it.

They're bringing you an almost guilt -free meal.

How's your salad?

Oh, it's delicious.

How's your story coming?

I'll talk about it later.

Couldn't wait till after supper to ask me.

It's not making it.

My boss had me pitch it to the foreign and financial editors. They think my

concept is naive.

They reject it. Your concept is accurate.

You do know what's going on.

Look, everyone knows there are people starving in the world. They don't want

think about it. Well, you should make them think about it.

If I do, what can they do?

They can do what they can do. And don't underestimate people.

You have to make them aware of the waste, the selfishness, the stupidity.

Look, sister, my city editor's taken me off. The story is finished.

I'm back to chasing ambulances and urban coyotes. You cannot let them intimidate

you.

Sister, please, eat your salad. It's from all over the world. You have to

continue planning out what's going on.

Talking to people, learning, then writing.

Explain it to my boss.

I don't care about your boss.

You only care about the people you can help.

You're a gifted man.

You've been given the ability to write.

Now you have something to say.

Hold it, sister. Just hold it. Don't try to hustle me.

Didn't work with Sister Angelica or Sister Beatrice, and they hit.

You forget I went to Holy Name.

I'm on to you.

No one can do a better job with this than you. No one.

Sister Louise, I'm not kidding. There is no way I can go on with this.

Disappoint me, Joe.

The answer is no.

Hi, Lou.

Come on in.

What's going on? Why didn't you call first?

I could have been here with the DeCastro sisters.

Sorry. Want something? Coffee?

Oh, no, no, nothing.

I'm fine.

You're not going to like what I'm going to say.

Let's find out.

I'm not quitting on the food story. I'm going to keep chasing it.

What did I tell you about that? You told me to forget it, but I can't. I will do

it in my spare time. I won't run Metro five minutes, but I've got to run this

one down and write it out.

Okay?

The time you've put in after hours is yours, I guess.

But this worries me.

You know what's driving me crazy?

I used to think the reason there were starving people in the world was because

there wasn't enough food to go around.

And now I know a little girl died when food was within reach.

I've got to put it all together so I can make people understand.

You're going to end up frustrating yourself.

The subject is too big to get a hold of. I know it's big. It's wearing you out.

No, no, it isn't. It isn't.

Can I give you some advice?

Stick this story in a drawer and don't look at it for two weeks.

Nobody's going to beat you on it. Nobody else wants it.

Sometimes a story gets ripe in a drawer.

Sometimes it gets sour.

I need to get on this thing, and I need to get it out.

You're like a guy chasing a woman who doesn't want him. You're in trouble, you

know that?

Lou, I know I don't have this story solved, but I can't quit on it.

Thanks for the encouragement.

Lou Grant will continue in a moment here on A &E.

Hey, we have another memo from the eighth floor.

Ah, dog.

Now this is for an arresting opening line.

Where have all the pencils gone?

Hey, that's kind of lyrical.

Pencils are vanishing at the rate of 100 per day at the Tribune. Are people

taking them home, tossing them in the trash, or eating them for lunch? They

certainly aren't wearing them out at work. Please conserve the Tribune

Should we miss his pinch on wasting a lot of energy on his conservation

campaign?

Hey, pencils disappear, that big guy. Oh, he likes to vanish.

Why is he bugging us like this?

Are we supposed to be getting on a paper? I'm going to buy my own pencils.

You can get seconds from the pencil company. A whole cigar box full costs

seven bucks.

I got some one time.

The writing said, knowledge is power.

Knowledge is spellbound.

Get me some, okay? Sure. Hey, who needs the Cribs pencils?

Attaboy. That defines my property.

Did they all live in the same project?

Why don't you go home?

We need this wire photo coming.

What are you working on that keeps you here so late?

My peace and hunger.

Linda, can I run something past you to see if it makes any sense?

So my phone rings, sure.

Okay, I talked to this agronomist. I should say agricultural economist.

Better. He says after World War II, the Third World made a big mistake.

They tried to copy the U .S. Had to be like us.

You look exhausted.

They said, see, the U .S. has the houses, the cars, the fridges.

Let's be like them. Let's industrialize.

Can you blame them?

Yeah, but they try to do it too fast. It took us over 200 years to build our

plants and factories. They try to do it overnight.

City desk.

No, Chavez is off tonight.

Yeah, try tomorrow night.

Okay. And they poured everything into industry and killed their agriculture.

Why? Because farms need investment, too. Equipment, irrigation, pesticides,

fertilizers.

It's the first time I've ever seen you drink in the city room.

And they brought huge numbers of people into the cities to work in the

factories. Then the politicians had to keep the price of food down to keep the

workers happy because they knew they could riot and throw them out of office.

Make sense?

It doesn't make sense. Because if the food prices are kept down, the farmer

can't make a buck and he won't produce, right?

I guess.

See, the policy makers sure changed the farmer and now it's cost them.

Marcy, is this the photo you've been waiting for?

Yeah.

Who is she?

Some little kid in Malagua. I asked one of our contacts in Central America to

send it out.

It's no Christmas card, is it?

Punch up today's budget, please.

Excuse me, Mr. Duff? Stop what you're doing and punch up today's budget.

Read the last item on the net, though.

Looks like a poem.

It's a limerick. Actually, read it.

How loud.

A publisher on the eighth floor screams, don't let those spent riffs waste more.

When we blow too much dough, Margaret hollers, oh, no.

And her tightwadded ways are a bore.

Oh, this is really rotten.

I would say so.

I'm sorry, I don't know who wrote it.

I'd like to invest the editorial staff on this matter, Mr.

Brown. Fine, Mrs. Finch, I'm well.

Right now.

Will you get their attention, please?

Hey,

would you all listen a minute?

Mrs. Finch, I have something to say.

deeply offended by the nasty little limerick that appears in today's budget.

You can read it later.

There are better things to do with our limited resources than to dump them into

the trash.

We may be living in a shamefully wasteful society but this will not be a

wasteful newspaper.

Paper is expensive.

I don't care how many lame limericks are dedicated to me. I will not tolerate

waste. Thank you.

Oh, if the poet is tempted to confess, I would

advise against it.

Rossi.

Yes, this is Joe Rossi.

Oh, yes, the crib will accept those guys.

Operator, wait a minute.

You better charge that to my home phone. Same area code, 555 -4711.

Dr.

Molina?

Hi, thanks for calling back.

Yeah, I need those figures on land ownership.

Good, good.

Rossi?

One minute.

Go ahead. I need you now.

Dr. Molina, hold on.

What?

I'm talking long distance to Malagua.

Call them back. I need a new cop for your zoning fee. Burroughs brought in

new information. Here it is.

You need to call me, right? Yes, we're on deadline.

Dr. Molina?

Can I call you back?

Oh.

No, no.

I'd rather not wait that long. I'll take it now.

Dr. Molina?

I'm sorry.

I can't take that information.

I'll have to wait.

I'll call you next week.

Thank you.

I hung up the phone.

I won't be able to talk to that guy for a week, but I'm going to do this rewrite

now for you.

Right now. You happy?

Hello.

When you want to communicate with me, Rossi, you're welcome to come to my desk

and say anything you like.

But don't scream at me across the city room. And presume that because I'm a

fairly reasonable guy, I'll let you get away with it.

I don't see anybody on this newspaper abusing you, and you damn well better

abuse me or anybody else.

Okay.

I know you're working two shifts, but that's your own choice.

Nor do you have to blow up all over us.

Donovan.

You're right. I'm sorry.

You have

a remarkable understanding of the problem, and you describe it in a way

will understand.

Good.

Where's the rest of it?

That's it.

It's not finished. These last few pages are just notes.

Sister Louise, I know this is an important project, and I don't

its value, but I've gone as far as I can go.

Today, I blasted one of my editors. If he were another guy, it could have cost

me my job.

I'm whipped.

I have run out of juice.

And I'm not working the story anymore.

I see.

Good.

Because it would be absolutely self -destructive for me to continue.

See, it's trying to do two jobs, and both of them are tough.

And it can't be done.

You do get the picture, don't you? I think so.

Okay.

I wanted you to finish because your story would reach so many people.

Look, even if I finished, which I cannot do, what guarantee do I have that the

Trib would publish it? My managing editor's already nixed it.

You can't do it, you can't do it.

I really can't.

Yeah, better be going.

Please.

You have a business card?

Yeah, I may want to write you.

You always reach me at the trip.

Why, uh, you going away?

I'm going back to Malagua.

When?

Soon. I feel much better now, and I think they'll let me go.

What do you mean you feel better?

I told you about that.

How you doing?

Oh, well, I... I got sick down there.

I didn't watch my food. I got run down.

I was in the hospital for a while. They finally sent me up here to rest.

And I've been taking it easy, waiting to go back.

Taking it easy?

Carrying food to shut -ins, scrounging around for vegetables and dumpsters,

working here all hours of the night, but taking it easy?

Well, it is easy compared to what they're going through.

We're very lucky.

You know, I'm anxious to get back.

They wrote me they formed a cooperative in the village I lived in. They're

making progress.

It's amazing how resilient they are.

I'm sure.

I'm going to miss you, Joe.

Thank you, sister.

I don't suppose you could take a rest and then tackle it again in a couple of

weeks?

No, no.

I don't think so.

Too bad.

I guess it's really too much for you.

Stop it, sister.

What?

Stop working me. You've been working me. You tell me these sad stories, get me

stoked up about these starving people, get me busting my back.

Everything I told you was true.

All you need is music. Come on, you manipulated me. You have had me on

Why didn't you just come straight out and say, this is what we want, we need

some copy? Well, that's what I did say, I thought.

Dragging me around to shut -ins?

And when I tell you, I can't write it.

You get sore, you argue, you flatter.

You know what's at stake?

Starving people.

People dying because they're hungry.

Here we go again.

All right, I admit it. I was manipulating.

I don't like to do that.

I beg for food.

I don't like that.

But I must do it for people who are dying only because there's so much

indifference. I know you're tired.

I can see it in your face.

I hear it in your voice.

But you have something left.

A reserve. You're young.

You're talented.

You know the rightness of your task.

And you're a decent man.

Okay, sister, that's enough.

Oh, you know something?

You make a pretty good editor.

So Rossi's final hook on the story is the nun goes back to Malagua.

She left yesterday.

Good piece.

Think it'll interest anybody?

What's your opinion, Lou?

I would like us to run it. Not many of our readers are starving, but maybe they

should know why millions of people are.

Guess what happened?

I don't want to play games.

Go ahead.

They gave it three graphs and a back of the paper next to the ship arrivals.

Page one.

Come on.

Are you... home?

Lou, thank you. Thank you for the help.

Was it worth it?

Ha! I'll let you know in a week when my brain comes back to life.

So where can I take you to dinner?

Chaumier, Rue Valvin.

We're pulling out all the stops.

Lou, can we make it another night?

It's worth my appetite.

Really? No, not really. I want an Italian salad.

And I want linguine with white clam sauce.

You got it.

I called Sister Louise.

Was she surprised I made phase one?

Said she knew it would. Can you believe that?

Lou?

I'm not just crazy, but I think there's a story there.

What about the linguine? Can I have a rain check?

Same bet?

Same bet.

All right.

She had one driving passion, to be

a star.

We'll follow Jane Mansfield on the road to success as Blonde Ambition Week

continues on biography tonight.

Now, a group of prostitutes are found murdered.

A cop makes the jump from vice squad to homicide on Police Story, next on A &E.

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