Original subtitles

♪♪ [Waltz] [Chattering]

All right, everybody,

let's lift them up there

for the new United States Senator from California,

George Hearst.

Thank you, friends. Thank you.

And thank you, Michael,

for not saying "Old United States Senator."

[Others laugh]

Well, Willy, what do you think of the old man now?

Not much.

Huh?

Not much more than I've thought about you

all my life, Dad.

[Laughs]

Well, Senator, what about those campaign promises?

I'll give them the best I have in Washington, Willy.

I don't mean Washington. I mean me.

You said, if I pitched in at campaign headquarters,

I could name my own price.

That I did.

And you were a big help, son.

Now, what is your price?

The San Francisco Examiner.

The paper?

You want the paper?

[Laughs]

But you'd be jumping on a sinking ship, Willy.

I'd like to try and save it.

I'm afraid the Senator's right, Willy.

The paper's lost a quarter of a million dollars

in the last seven years.

Then what harm can there be?

Look, dad.

I learned the newspaper business from one of the best,

Joseph Pulitzer.

San Francisco is going to be

one of the most important cities in the country one day,

and it needs a newspaper just as important.

All right, Willy,

the Examiner's yours.

If you don't show a profit,

I'll sell it.

Thanks, dad. I'll make it work.

Well, I'd like to offer a toast, Willy, to your good luck,

but I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good,

not with the Examiner.

[Chuckles]

I wouldn't count on it, Mr. Tarpey.

I'm going to take that paper and pop new life into it.

I'm going to give it not only a mouth,

but a heart and a pair of hands that will reach out

for every man, woman, and child in the bay area

with a pair of eyes and a penny to pay for it.

♪♪ [Theme]

Howdy, folks, I'm the Old Ranger.

When the famous pioneers came out to the west,

they carved their names in history

in solid gold and silver

while others built cattle and land empires,

but at only 24 years of age,

William Randolph Hearst

was well on his way

to engrave his name forever

in the paper dynasty.

Well, here it is, Mr. Hearst,

your first edition.

Well, what do you think of it, Sam?

It's good.

Well, you're not exactly turning handsprings over it.

It's just--

well, the Examiner's on its last legs, Mr. Hearst.

You came along just in time for the wake.

What kind of talk is that,

coming from a good newspaper man like you?

This paper isn't dead, not until the presses stop,

and I plan to keep them rolling.

There are people out there, Sam,

hungry for news,

starved for excitement,

the frightened ones,

the lonely ones,

the bitter,

the rich, the poor.

Look at them, Sam.

I'll bet only one out of ten

have as much as $5 in their pocket.

But they all have a penny, the price of the Examiner,

and that's who we're after, Sam-- the people.

By the way, I want some map tacks.

Map tacks.

Sure.

What's the current circulation?

Almost 24,000.

16,000 are paid. The others are giveaways.

From now on, there will be no more giveaways.

We'll make them want to buy this paper.

Who would you say is the most read columnist in town?

Ambrose Bierce.

Right, and I'm getting him over here with us.

He won't come cheap.

I don't expect him to.

Bierce is a wild man, you know.

Doesn't care who he steps on.

Well, he's honest.

He writes it like he sees it.

Wasn't too long ago that this whole part of the country

was one vast wilderness.

It took guts to carve a hunk of civilization out of that.

Bierce has guts.

And from now on, so does The Examiner.

[Knock on door]

[Cocks gun]

Yes?

Mr. Bierce? Mr. Ambrose Bierce?

That is correct.

I'm from The San Francisco Examiner.

I'm very sorry. I'm not buying any subscriptions this evening.

[Chuckles] I didn't come here to sell.

I came here to buy.

Just what do you want, young man?

I'm very busy.

I want to speak to you.

I would say that's what you're doing.

Now, what is it? My time is valuable.

How valuable, Mr. Bierce?

The examiner will pay you twice what you're getting now

to write for us.

[Scoffs] If it weren't so tragic, your offer would be funny.

I keep it handy.

I sometimes have irate readers of my column

breathing fire at my door in the middle of the night.

Now, young man,

is Mr. Hearst aware of your running around

with these vertiginous proposals?

I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself.

I'm William Randolph Hearst.

Now, let's talk. Shall we?

[Bierce] Only two days ago,

"across the bay in Oakland,

that eminent merchant of mud Hiram Higgins

once again succeeded

in pulling the wool over his neighbor's eyes

by selling the city used and moth-eaten blankets

long since discarded by the army."

"On Saturday night,

that darling of the social world,

Mrs. Eustace Montgomery Lemond,

presently of Nob Hill,

formerly of a doubtful origin,

a saloon girl in Virginia city,

threw a bang-up party

for some debuted tramps

at her plush pink mansion."

"It is rumored that the eminent equestrian

Kenneth hodgson,

known to us commoners

as the saddle bum with the clean shirt,

won a vast sum of money

from his dearest friends.

He ran a horse in the race

that was really a ringer,

imported for the purpose from Denver.

The horse was appropriately named 'fleecer.'

shame, shame, shame."

[Knock on door]

[Hearst] Come in.

I sure hope the insurance company doesn't drop us.

Another law suit?

Two more--

defamation of character suits again.

Kenneth Hodgson, Hiram Higgins.

What happened to you?

Mrs. Eustace Montgomery Lemond.

She thought I was Ambrose Bierce.

She swings a mean parasol.

Maybe we'll sue her.

Bierce is doing a sensational job, Mr. Hearst,

but he's making nothing but enemies for us on Nob Hill.

Good. It's about time their ears pinned back.

The more screams that go up from Nob Hill,

the more cheers will go up for market street,

and that's where the people are, Sam.

Just proves we need more features

like Bierce's column.

See what you can come up with.

By the way,

circulation shot up another thousand this week.

Fine. Excuse me, Mr. Chamberlain.

Have you given it any thought--

now, Miss Sweet, I've told you a dozen times already--

what is it, Sam?

This young lady's been pestering me

for a job for two weeks.

She won't take no for an answer.

Well, she shows determination.

It's a novelty in women nowadays.

Let's talk to her.

Mr. Hearst, this is Miss Sweet, Winifred Sweet.

Miss Sweet.

How do you do?

Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

So you want a job. What have you done?

Mr. Hearst,

I'm really an actress,

and I got stranded here two weeks ago.

That's all I've done since I've been out of school,

been on the stage.

A showman heard me sing "Annie Laurie"

in a high-school play once.

He hired me.

Been on the road ever since.

What makes you think you can write for a newspaper?

Well, I gave some of my pieces to Mr. Chamberlain.

They weren't bad.

Style's a little unorthodox,

strictly a woman's point of view.

A woman's point of view.

That might not be a bad idea.

Miss Sweet,

a writer should write about what he knows best.

What do you think you know best?

People, I guess.

What kind of people?

Oh, sales girls,

hairdressers, housewives,

policemen,

just average, everyday people.

The competition doesn't have a girl reporter, Sam.

She could be the answer to that extra feature we're looking for.

You've been on the stage, right?

You know how to entertain people,

how to make them laugh, make them cry.

Do you think you could do that in your writing?

Oh, I'm sure I could.

I'd-- I'd write about what they were feeling.

Exactly.

Reach out to them.

Become one of them.

Let them cry on your shoulder.

Laugh with them, get sore with them.

Sob with them,

become a sister to them.

That's it. Become a sob sister.

Put her on, Sam.

You-- you mean I'm hired?

As of this minute.

Sam, show her around.

[Chuckles]

That's no good.

Well, the name-- it's no good for a byline.

It'll have to be changed.

I have it.

It got you started in one business.

It can get you started in this one.

From now on you're Annie Laurie.

Annie Laurie.

Sob sister.

[Laughs]

Sam, I want you to rush every available reporter to the fire.

The del monte hotel is a landmark,

and I want it covered from every conceivable point of view.

Yes. Hire a special train if you have to,

but get everybody there, including the artist.

I want them to capture on-spot reactions

of the horror, the loss, the tragedy.

Now, move.

Bierce, I want you to try to come up with the cause of the fire,

the hotel's background, the famous guests who stayed there, etcetera.

Fine.

Annie, you get the human side.

Talk to the maids, the janitor, the guests,

but give me what they feel.

Yes, sir.

[Annie] "The hotel guests watched the fire

in stunned silence,

but not Margaret McMartin,

chambermaid for the del monte

for over 20 years.

Maggie, as they call her,

wept openly.

The hotel wasn't just a job to her.

It was part of her life,

and now it was burning,

consumed in flames."

[Bierce] "The famous del monte hotel in monterey

has burned for three days now,

and still there is no official cause reported."

Wires, Mr. Hearst.

Telegrams from the governor, the mayor,

commending the paper on the del monte coverage.

They did a great job, Sam.

Bierce, Annie, the artist.

You, too. You put it together in excellent taste.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Hearst. Sending that special train to monterey

was an idea that's never been done before.

We've always relied on delayed reports.

Delayed reports are no good, Sam.

The world's changing, getting faster.

Newspapers have to keep up with what's happening

and try to be there to report it.

How did this affect circulation?

It shot up to 40,000, all paid.

40,000 out on the streets!

In a year, we've more than doubled circulation.

Here's the bill for the train and expenses for the staff.

It's pretty high.

Sam, we've doubled circulation!

Do you realize what that'll mean when I tell the Senator?

So what?

So you doubled the circulation.

But, in that one year,

the paper shows a net loss of $300,000.

It took me seven years to lose only $250,000.

But dad-- is that how Joe Pulitzer taught you to run a paper?

You don't see his New York world in the red.

And he didn't make it a success overnight, either.

Look, dad, there are 40,000 people out there,

reading The Examiner.

40,000. I've raised the advertising rates,

and they're standing in line for the space.

We're getting national recognition,

strength, respect.

At $300,000,

that kind of respect runs too rich for my blood.

Mr. Tarpey, you help put my father in office.

Tell him the value of the Examiner.

Willie, this is a family thing.

No, it isn't.

Dad's a good Senator.

He's proved himself in Washington,

and California needs him there.

The Examiner can keep him there.

He's got a point there, Senator.

I don't need a newspaper or anyone else

to fight my battles.

You're wrong.

They're going to send a strong man up against you next time at bat.

And you're going to need The Examiner as much

as California needs you.

Is that all?

I'm a good newspaper man. I know I am.

I have plans. Big plans.

A newspaper isn't just a business.

It's a public servant.

A responsibility. People depend on it.

Their whole lives are affected by it.

It's part of them, and it's all of me.

What do you want from me, Willie?

Another year.

Just 12 more months is all I ask,

and I'll have it on a paying basis.

All right, Willie.

One more year.

I want all this to run in all the editions tomorrow, Sam.

You may have to set the type in asbestos, for this one.

"Railroad hoax.

The Examiner wants to go on record

in stating that the railroad combine

is reaching into the pockets of the people."

You're not serious about this?

Dead serious.

But the railroads-- this'll lose us

some of our biggest advertisers.

We'll have to risk it.

The railroad people...

They're very close friends of your father.

The Senator will never stand still for this.

I can't help that.

I have to do what I think is right by the people.

You know what those railroad men are up to.

Sure. Everybody does.

But they don't put it in writing.

The Examiner does.

I've called you here to make an official announcement.

This paper belongs to the people.

You've heard me say that time and again.

The people, San Francisco,

The Examiner is declaring war on the railroads.

I've always wanted to do some big game hunting.

Now's your chance.

I want the facts, all of them.

The deals being made, the backroom meetings.

Annie, I want you to find out how the man on the street feels

about his pocket being picked.

The housewife, the bootblack.

I want pictures of the railroad barons

as they really are.

The first shot is being fired tomorrow.

After that, it's all out war.

Get to it.

[Knock on door]

Come in.

It's Mr.-- Willie!

Are you out of your mind, Willie?

About what? About this!

The Senator went right through the roof when he read that.

I know. I've received three wires from the Senator, in as many days.

Well, then, in heaven's name, man, why?

Because that's the way I see it.

The people are behind us all the way.

We've got a petition demanding

that the railroads repay the money they've borrowed.

A petition?

What good are a couple of thousand names?

A couple of thousand?

There are exactly 194,663.

Nobody's going to walk over this town

without a cry of protest going up,

and that cry is going to come from The Examiner.

Will, you've got your neck out a country mile.

They're all voters, Mr. Tarpey.

Almost 195,000 of them.

You tell that to my Father.

I'll tell him.

For whatever it's worth, Willie,

good luck.

Well, we lost another big account

with that last editorial.

Well, it's too late to back out now, Sam.

But it is time we gave our readers something a little more pleasant.

Any ideas?

Well, it'll be spring soon.

We could have Annie do a feature on the silly new fashions.

Oh, we need something else. Something different.

What about Sarah Bernhardt?

She's touring the United States now.

Yeah, I thought about that,

but she won't be in San Francisco

for another month.

Take San Francisco to her.

Pardon? Why not?

We'll send along two of our best feature writers

to travel with her.

People want to know about Sarah Bernhardt,

what she has for breakfast, where she buys her clothes,

how she feels about love, politics.

They'll eat it up.

But sending two writers out on the road to cover a story--

that's never been done before.

The expense.

You get the story.

I'll worry about the expense.

[Patriotic music]

[Speaking French]

[Speaking French]

Tonight...

For the one and only Sarah Bernhardt,

I shall prepare the most magnificent crepe suzette,

with a taste admirable.

[Speaks French]

Yes.

But how did you know about it?

I've read it in the paper.

Excusez-moi.

They all know you, Miss Bernhardt,

and they all love you.

San Francisco is yours to wear like a...

Another Jewel in your tiara.

Monsieur Hearst, your Examiner...

All those people have read about me?

Those nice things Miss Laurie wrote--

these and 200,000 more.

And I must thank you, Miss Bernhardt.

Me? Why?

For the thousands of new readers you gave me.

The Examiner is the biggest newspaper

in all of San Francisco.

I don't care if it is the biggest paper in San Francisco.

Look at this balance sheet!

We've got more advertising

than we've got the space to handle.

And circulation keeps going up. The paper's a success.

Who can afford this kind of success?

But Senator-- in two years, you've managed to go

three quarters of a million dollars in the red

besides ostracizing me from some of my closest friends.

You call that success?

The paper's worth a lot more now than it was two years ago.

At least we'll be able to salvage something when we sell it.

Sell it?

Sell The Examiner?

It's a losing proposition, Willie.

All I'm asking is for $50,000 working capital

to run us a few months,

and then it'll finally be on a paying basis.

Willie, you know how I am about making a deal.

My whole life, my whole career,

is based on my keeping my word

and being just as firm in making others keep to theirs.

It's not just the money. It's...

It's a philosophy.

We made a deal. I've got to stick to it.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, son.

[Sighs]

That was pretty rough, George.

A deal's a deal.

Well-- [clears throat]

I guess I better come back later

to talk to you about the campaign.

No, no, no. Let's do it now.

All right, George.

Now, the opposition means to get you out.

Well, this campaign is going to be a lot tougher

than the first one.

You'd better drag out your checkbook, George.

[Chuckles] I've got to skin me a cat,

two ways.

[Sighs]

Well?

They turned us down. No cash, no paper.

We've got presses but nothing to print on.

That's it, then.

The last edition goes out tomorrow morning.

Then we put it to bed...

For good.

Willie?

We'll both be out of jobs tomorrow,

so I guess I can call you "Willie" now.

You could have called me that any time you wanted to.

We wanted you to know that

if you could have kept the presses rolling,

we'd have worked for nothing till things straightened out.

That's a fact.

If there's anything we can do...

You've already done it. Thanks.

I'd say "The Examiner thanks you,"

but you are The Examiner.

Ambrose?

Keep that typewriter sharpened.

And Annie, you keep them sobbing.

Thanks to you both.

Say, what is this?

Been reading too much of your own stuff lately, Annie.

Yeah, I guess so.

Uh, excuse me for barging in like this,

but the advertising department seems to be closed.

The editorial department is about to join it.

I've got to buy some space.

Sorry, we can't accommodate you.

We have the space but no paper to put it on.

Gee, that's too bad.

I've got to start a political campaign,

and I'm starting out with a check for $50,000

for newspaper advertising.

50 thou--

tarpey, does the Senator know about this?

Not yet, but he will.

Don't worry. I'll handle that when the time comes.

Annie, Ambrose, what are you waiting for?

Show the nice gentleman to the advertising department.

Right this way, sir.

I didn't recognize you without your beard.

What did you do with your reindeer?

[Laughs]

[Both laugh]

We're back in business, Sam.

Say, whatever happened to those map tacks

I asked you for two years ago?

They're right there in that little box.

San Francisco is only beginning, Sam.

The Hearst papers are going to branch out

all over the United States.

Los Angeles...

New York...

Boston...

Texas...

It's only the beginning, Sam. Only the beginning.

[Old ranger] William Randolph Hearst was a man of his word.

He didn't stop with The San Francisco Examiner

but went on to establish his newspapers

throughout the country.

And today, his communication services

not only include newspapers but magazines, T.V.,

and radio stations throughout america.

Hearst proved he was a pioneer in his own right,

and today, his empire is a monument

to his courage and determination.