It is magical, though, isn't it?
That something so large can stay aloft?
It's not magic, it's physics. Thrust, drag, lift.
I got to make a phone call.
I thought we agreed to set aside work for the day.
You suggested it.
I remained silent.
Don't tell me they cancelled your trip.
The first direct flight from New York to London?
Pan Am wouldn't cancel this for the Second Coming.
So you're just checking up on me?
Damn right. How's my magazine?
Well, Back of the Book's given me shit-all.
Front copy's more white than black,
and I'm waiting for a photo dump
from Stockton. Typical Saturday.
Where's Art stand on the cover?
Almost there.
I, uh, I have some lingering concerns.
About the cover art or about my story?
Your story's a smear piece.
500 Vietnamese civilians were murdered, unprovoked.
I'd say that warrants smearing.
We do not have confirmation from the military.
My source has seen the Army's preliminary report.
Look, in a matter of weeks this is public record.
Well, let's wait till then.
I mean, look, I want to know we're right
before we start tarnishing these young men's careers.
This is the final boarding call.
Kelly, Mitchell, Bernhardt.
Jesus, Bernhardt's 23 years old.
I don't care if he's in diapers.
Finn.
We've been scooped on Songmy before
because you preached caution.
If you need substantiation
in order to sleep at night,
get General Peers on the phone,
then run my fucking story.
Okay, Chief.
When the galley's locked, wire it to London.
I'll head to the bureau as soon as we touch down.
Motherfucker. Angie!
Get General William Peers, U.S. Army,
on the phone. Tell him I need a confirmation
of a story before we go to press tonight.
Finn's centerpiece on Songmy?
Yes.
You know what gets me? It's the arrogance.
We can disagree.
It's not as if I'm above discourse.
He doesn't like it when I dust off my press pass
and write about Vietnam.
He's a hawk. A military apologist.
I read that there's a lounge in the upper deck
with a full bar.
I want to fire off this Editor's Page on the flight
and wire it home when we land.
Hopefully sneak it into this week's issue.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
Where do you want to start?
I don't know. Cindy, I am so excited.
If we talk to two girls a day,
we can have the entire magazine in a couple of weeks.
Oh. What about Vivian?
Um...
she calls me Cindy Lou Who.
In a rude way.
We're gonna have to talk to a lot of girls, Cindy.
That means even the rude ones.
Why don't you talk to Dottie in theater?
I don't really know Dottie.
She's on your yes list.
Because she is always complaining,
not because we're friends.
I can't do all the recruitment on my own, Cindy.
Oh, I know.
I know. Oh. I'll talk to Beverly.
That'll give us half of foreign.
I think she's making it with her reporter.
Well, maybe,
but she gave me her Tuna Crunch Casserole once,
and it was delicious.
Hmm.
What about Jane?
You know, a lot of the girls look up to her.
I talked to Jane.
I don't think she's ready.
Oh.
Okay, well, I will focus on Beverly.
Cindy, what is that?
Oh, it's... ahem...
They were handing them out
at the last consciousness-raising,
and it is about giving and receiving pleasure.
My little girl is all grown up.
I can't read more than a paragraph at a time
because it makes me blush.
It's happening now, isn't it?
Damn it.
Those my profiles?
Eldridge Cleaver,
David Hilliard, Angela Davis.
Nice suit. Who died?
Oh. James P. Kelly, 63rd precinct.
PD got into a gunfight with a group of Black Panthers in Midwood.
One of the officers died.
Oh, boy.
_
You have something. What is it?
Do you know anyone in Vietnam?
Um, I could find a list of active servicemen.
No, no, personally. Do you know any vets?
All the boys I grew up with went to college to avoid the war.
Did Finn sign off an a story?
Sort of. On his way out last night,
he came over, tapped on my desk,
and said "When Our Boys Come Home."
And then he walked out the door.
"When our boys come home"?
How is that an investigative piece?
I have no idea.
When were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend?
What?
Townley Investments?
Chad, is it?
Who told you?
Not you.
You know, four Panthers were killed, too,
but they don't even mention that till the last paragraph.
It's articles like this that give them a bad name.
I think it's dead policemen
that give the Panthers a bad name.
Are you writing a pro-law enforcement article now?
Patti, I'm not gonna argue with you.
I'm not arguing. I'm just asking.
I'm not writing a pro-anything article.
There's violence on both sides.
I'm not going to ignore it.
So what time is the funeral?
Tonight at 6, near Prospect.
Rhodes, you're going to a funeral tonight?
Yeah. You need something to do?
Last time I checked, we publish on a Saturday.
Are you planning on bringing a typewriter to the funeral parlor?
We're not publishing tonight.
Finn gave us some leeway on our deadline.
Leeway? What's that mean?
I'm sorry, that sounds like an investigative piece.
Really? Doug, does that sound
like an investigative piece to you?
You know, I hadn't thought of it, Patti,
but it kind of does.
But that's Sam's assignment.
Right.
How's that coming along?
You know, an ongoing story is a privilege.
It's not something that you, uh, back into
when you can't close on deadline.
- Hmm. - Reporters!
In my office.
We may need an alternative
for the feature well in the next few hours.
I thought the Peers report was our centerpiece.
It was, but that story might not make it.
So I want to go around here
and see which story you might have
that we can slot in.
Why would Finn ix-nay his own story?
Nobody is ix-naying anything.
I'm preparing a contingency
in case this story unravels at the eleventh hour.
Does Finn know that you're preparing a contingency?
He's on an airplane. I am in charge.
And I'm gonna make damn sure
that this magazine lives up to its sterling reputation.
All right, who's got something?
Jeez, you think somebody's fired?
If Wick was letting a reporter go,
he wouldn't call them all in.
- Unless they're all fired. - Don't be ridiculous.
That happened at The Register.
They fired everyone but the typesetter
and the guy on Obits.
But they hired them all back the next day.
Angie, what's going on up there?
All hands on deck. I'm sure your reporters will fill you in.
Angie.
Wick is working on a back-up for the Songmy story.
He wants me to get everything Ned has for the week.
Why? Finn's story was brilliant.
Wick doesn't think it'll hold water.
I know. But once Finn lands,
this will all get sorted out.
Looks like for now it's double duty.
Ahh.
Thank you, gentlemen.
Captions?
This is scandalous.
Captions are Cindy Reston's job.
Evidently Wick needs more than she can handle.
You don't take the magazine's star reporter
and assign him captions.
Which is why I need you to do it.
Wick's letting Doug follow his investigative track
while Adam and Ralph prep their features.
That's generous.
Doug hasn't had a cover in months.
Yeah, well, it means I really need
to get my vets piece up and running.
Okay. Well, I'll call the VA,
and I'll have something set up with their press office.
Actually, I'm going to work with Naomi on this one.
Ralph's Naomi?
She's got a husband in Da Nang.
She might have some insight.
And you said you don't know anyone in Vietnam, right?
- Oh, but I could... - Hey, captions.
Terry, what's a five-dollar word for trip or journey?
Uh... traverse?
A noun, not a verb.
Like "We set out on a..." On a what?
How about a sojourn?
Too sanctimonious.
Odyssey.
Venture, pilgrimage, peregrination.
Although peregrination is a ten-dollar word.
What's going on with you?
I don't know why I imagined this would be different.
What would be different?
You said vacation. That's what you said.
- Talia... - And now...
They give the magazine these tickets
in exchange for a story.
That's how quid pro quo works.
And thank you.
"Pilgrimage" was the word.
This is not what I told you to write.
This is exactly what you told me to write.
Well, if it's what I told you, I didn't mean it.
Go, go, go. Come on.
Vivian, hi.
Yes?
Your article on the Milan Bank Bombing.
I really dug it.
Swell. Thanks. But I just got...
"It's as if Jupiter himself
cast his thunderous judgment upon the Piazza Fontana."
I'm just guessing that JP didn't write that.
The man's a bonobo.
Sometimes he writes "Insert metaphor here" in his copy.
I'd like to insert a metaphor somewhere.
Wow. Listen,
some of the girls and I are getting together after work
just to blow off some steam.
It's at that place on Madison,
the Women's Commerce Shop?
That little craft store?
Yeah, they have really good sandwiches.
And the guys never go there, so it's a good place to talk
if you like sandwiches and you want to get away from JP.
Sure.
Hey, Vivian. Uh,
don't mention this to anyone, okay?
You have to imagine I'm looking at a bunch of people
with sweaty chests. All I see are sweaty chests.
And right in front of me is Willis Reed.
So he's just talking. He's jawing with his buddies,
and what I didn't realize
is that his girlfriend was right behind me,
- so his eyes light up. - Ohh!
He puts out his arms, and I just... I go right in.
You did not hug Willis Reed.
I did. I completely misread the situation.
Okay, well, you need to tell me
what does Willis Reed smell like.
Who's Willis Reed?
Uh, a three-time All-Star.
The center for the Knicks.
Oh. And how does the center for the Knicks relate
to "When Our Boys Come Home"?
Well, we sort of hit a standstill on the story.
A standstill.
My husband won't be back for eight months.
I'm glad to see you're not too broken up about it.
Would you like me to call the VA now?
No. I don't want anyone hand-picked by the military.
Okay. Could you review some of my captions?
Sure. I'll swing by in a minute.
I'm actually meeting my mother for lunch in 20 minutes.
Well, then, clearly we need to expedite these captions.
Okay. Let me see where you stand.
Thank you.
Thanks for your help.
He's frustrated. That's all.
Finn rejected all of his proposals
for the investigative piece
and then gave him a nothing assignment.
I mean, "When Our Boys Come Home"?
That's an idea. It's not a story.
We don't know any Vietnam veterans, do we?
I wish your father had gotten you a job
at a less Jewish magazine.
I know you find the newsroom dynamic.
Mommy, none of the editors at News of the Week are Jewish,
and only a few of the reporters are.
Yours is.
Anyway...
I stopped by the pharmacy,
and Dr. Simpson gave me
an extra prescription of Obetrol.
He says it is better than your Aminorex, stronger.
You take a pill a half an hour before meals,
and it'll curb your appetite.
You know, I'm really sorry. I have to run.
It's deadline day,
and I should get back to the office.
Thank you for lunch, Mommy.
Give Daddy my best.
Cindy. Hi. Do you need something?
Yeah, I...
Have you read the new Ladies' Home Journal?
There's a terrific Chicken à la King recipe.
Chicken à la King?
Beverly, you will never guess what the secret is.
Pimento peppers.
It's the same thing that they stuff in olives.
Thanks, I'll check it out.
I can bring it in for you.
To tell you the truth, I'm swamped right now.
I've got Dennis' regular columns plus the captions.
I think it's unfair
that the boys here get all the credit,
even though the girls do lots of work.
Well, they write the articles.
Yeah, I know, I know, but...
sometimes I think
that we could probably write them just as well.
You know, I've seen some of your files,
and they are as good as the final copy.
Why are you looking at my files?
Huh?
Oh, uh, I don't...
I don't remember what I saw
or why I saw it.
I was just trying to give you a compliment.
I think that you are good at your job.
Thanks.
Any time.
Will you hold this?
Get my wallet out.
We're heading first to my office in Mayfair,
where you'll wait, then off to the Hyde Park Hotel.
Will that be enough?
Hell, this'll get you to Milton Keynes
- and back if you like. - Good.
Finn, I would like to go directly to the hotel.
A quick stop at the bureau,
say some hellos, proof the galley.
I would like to go directly to the hotel.
Alistair wants to see you.
He always asks about you and the girls.
We're heading straight to Mayfair.
He asks about us to be polite, Finn.
- Talia... - Alistair is a colleague.
And just because he has good manners doesn't mean
I want to sit in an office for hours making small talk.
- I never said hours. - Don't.
Well, we're all loaded up then?
Will you give us a minute, please?
I'll run in, drop off the story, run out.
Five minutes.
Five becomes ten, ten becomes 20.
Okay, enough with the histrionics.
Jesus Christ.
Now I see.
You see what?
Why Rebecca left you.
Do you want to resolve this here?
In the rain?
On the sidewalk of Heathrow fucking Airport?
Get in the cab.
Talia, please get in the cab.
Talia.
Honey, look at me.
I have hundreds of employees
in dozens of cities across five continents
we never know when the news...
I know this speech.
"The news never stops."
I know it.
I'm not going to quit.
You only hear two things:
work hard or don't work at all.
But it's not binary.
I will never ask you to quit.
Then what do you want?
That when you're here, you're here with me.
That's all.
That's all I want.
Change of plans.
We're going to Knightsbridge.
Right.
It's so dry in here.
Thirsty.
Dottie, hi.
Hi, Patti.
I read your article from last week
on The Great White Hope.
I really dug it.
Your high school yearbook.
Morris High, class of '59.
And?
Just because I don't know any veterans
doesn't mean you don't.
I went down to the morgue, pulled your yearbook,
and compared it with the Army registry,
and I got 11 hits.
Clifford Rifkind,
Stanley Sacks, Benjamin Hammer...
Me and Bennie had homeroom together.
He got shot down over Phuoc Vihn.
So your interview subject is...
Noah Benowitz.
Jesus. Noah.
He went to Nam?
Two tours, but he's back now.
For a while there, we were like this.
How'd you know?
It's my job.
Ohh.
Oh, and you're set to meet him downtown
in 30 minutes, so you'd better hurry.
- Jane. - Hmm?
Nice work.
As long as I'm here, I'm here for you.
Then come with me.
Unless you'd rather be doing captions.
Hey, are you taking off already? It's still early.
If we hurry, we can swing by your place
before we head to Brooklyn.
You can't wear that to a funeral.
Really?
There's going to be dozens of cops there,
family members, city officials.
Wait a second.
Since when do you need my help with interviews?
Since it's me and potentially 200 interview subjects.
And the fact that I'm absolutely delightful
to be around, that doesn't weigh into your decision?
Not even for a minute.
- Let's go. - Hey.
I just need to talk to Cindy for one second.
I'll meet you in the lobby.
I really want to go with him, Cindy.
It's the closest I can get to actually reporting.
Let's just postpone the meeting.
No. You can do this.
You are not only sensuous, you're strong.
Patti, I couldn't even convince Beverly Buckley.
But Vivian and Dottie want this lawsuit, Cindy.
They just don't know it yet.
All you have to do is open their eyes.
Okay.
Yes, sir.
I understand completely.
Yes, sir.
Thank you.
Uh, have a good night.
Did General Peers confirm?
He said if Bom Laird or Dick Nixon
don't get advanced notice,
then News of the Week doesn't, either.
Anything from Finn?
Alistair Cullen said
a cabbie dropped off his Editor's Page.
A cabbie?
He's just jaunting around London?
All right.
Fuck all. Try him one more time,
then get printer on the phone.
Do it.
You should have let me buy you that coat.
I don't need a coat.
It's cold. Here.
I'm in a three-piece.
Thank you.
Perfect 36.
Remember our old place
over the Indian restaurant?
I remember you screaming at that poor man in Hindi.
He was not a poor man. He was a monster.
You should hear the things he said about you.
He was just jealous because I was married to you.
I was so happy there, Finn.
I'm gonna give this guy a little something.
I'll be right back.
I adore this song.
I know.
You're an idiot.
You think that's stupid?
That's right, folks.
Ohh.
I think there's something wrong with your tape deck.
They call themselves Black Sabbath.
My friend at Warner Brothers got me a preview copy.
Can you send it back?
I think they're pretty bitchen.
Ohh.
If they'd stopped recording music at Pat Boone,
I'd have been just fine.
Cindy, that is the most profoundly sad thing
I've ever heard.
Just sit down.
All right. Now close your eyes.
These guys are on to something new.
Well, new, but also ancient.
Something... druidic.
It's like Gregorian monks in a mountaintop abbey,
only one of them invented electricity
and the other one invented LSD.
They sound so... mad.
Hmm. The sixties are damn near over, baby.
It's time to get pissed.
You should play this at one of your women's-only meetings.
Kick that party into high gear.
They're not really parties.
Oh, no?
No.
No, we... we talk
about our jobs and our love lives
and...
our bodies.
What about your body?
Well, at one of the meetings, they suggested that we look...
that we look down... there.
That sounds gymnastic.
No. You use a mirror.
So what did you think?
It was disappointing.
I refuse to believe there's anything disappointing
underneath that skirt.
What does your husband say about that?
I didn't... ahem...
I didn't mention it to him,
you know, what I thought,
and he doesn't really, uh...
Look, sorry. I mean, I...
I don't know what I'm saying.
- So I should... - Cindy.
Yeah.
You're beautiful.
Do you see him?
Doesn't look like he's here yet.
2-4?
2-4, is that you?
Hot friggin' Christ, Noah?
What... You look like Father Time.
Who are you running from?
A bit of urban camouflage, you know?
Noah, this is my researcher Jane.
It's a pleasure to meet you. Sam says wonderful things.
Yeah, you, too.
So, uh, 2-4?
Uh, my old jersey number.
- Good memory. - It's burnt in.
I spent four years yelling over my shoulder "2-4, 2-4, keep up!"
Bullshit. If you were ever in front of me,
it's because I was coming around to lap you.
Hey, uh, three old-fashioneds up.
Up? Ha.
He used to be a real Bronx kid.
Corduroy jacket, old-fashioneds up.
A real Manhattan aristocrat.
Hmm. Says the Haight-Ashbury burnout.
Fair enough, buddy, fair enough.
Actually, why don't you make it three pints?
Good?
- All right? - All right.
You want us to sue Finn and Wick?
It starts as a complaint.
We only raise the threat of a lawsuit
if they don't comply.
Remember Lizzie Green?
She complained that her department head
showed up at her house in the middle of the night drunk,
and she got fired.
That scares me.
But this is different.
It's an official complaint.
Nora Ephron complained, officially,
in front of the whole staff. Look where that got her.
Nora, actually, just got a job at the Post,
where she gets to write.
So she is happy.
Well, good for her, then, but...
I like being a researcher.
I worked my tail off to get this job.
I'm living hand-to-mouth, Cindy.
Not all of us have husbands to pay the bills.
Okay, Lenny is a law student, so...
For now.
Tell Patti we stopped by.
And thanks for the... whatever this is.
No. Look, you don't know what you want!
I did something new today...
something that, if you had asked me yesterday,
I wouldn't have said I was missing
because I didn't even know it was a thing.
But now it's all I can think about.
I am telling you.
Life outside the pit is a thing.
I mean, like, Vivian,
you... you might want to be an editor someday.
And maybe you would like to be a reporter
or a foreign correspondent
or... how... how could we know?
Oh, um, and it's... it's claret lemonade.
It's half lemonade, half wine.
And it is a revelation.
My dad was born not 2 miles from here
in Winslow Terrace.
I grew up in that house.
And God willing, my boys will grow up there, too.
You see, us Kellys?
We're from here.
When my mom got pregnant,
my dad was all set to follow his old man into woodwork,
But by then Brooklyn was changing:
new people, new faces...
And my dad always said
that if he was gonna bring a kid into this world,
he wanted her to be safe.
20 years he spent on the beat.
Most of youse knew him.
Some of you even helped him home
on a Sunday when the Dodgers lost.
Before O'Malley screwed the pooch.
We don't want to lose our way of life.
We don't want our streets took away from us.
I know that's why you, like my father,
put on that badge every day, and I thank you for that.
God bless.
"Brooklyn was changing"?
"We don't want to lose our way of life"?
How can you not see that as racism?
She just lost her father, Patti.
I know, and that is sad.
But he gunned down innocent people.
We don't know that they were innocent.
The FBI is inflating crime stats.
Inflating, not fabricating.
The Panthers do set off bombs.
They do kill police officers in Brooklyn.
It is a response to systemic racism.
You know, I'm not writing an article about racism.
I'm writing an article about violence.
One is a reaction to the other.
Are you trying to tell me what to write?
I am suggesting, Doug,
that you write a story about the Panthers
that we haven't heard before.
That means you have to write something meaningful,
something vital,
and there isn't anything vital about...
nobody's right if everybody's wrong.
I hear you, Patti, I do.
But...
I have to write it the way I see it.
They don't get it. They talk about the war
like they talk about a game of fucking Parcheesi:
moving plastic pieces around a board.
- Thank you. - Mm-hmm.
I know fellas...
that took lead, who lost limbs.
I got this buddy the Donger...
- Do... Sorry. Donger? - The Donger.
He's sitting in this clinic in Virginia,
staring at a wall,
watching the fucking paint peel.
Doesn't say a word.
Truth is I'm one of the lucky ones.
- 2-4, you want? - No.
With all due respect,
I think most civilians take the war
more seriously than a board game.
They take it serious, all right.
They fucking hate us.
Whatever you think...
it's not like I started the fucking war.
You see?
You asked me about my hair.
You know, a couple of us figure
if we look like hippies,
then maybe they won't give us so much grief.
And then it's harder for you to get a job.
So you're damned if you do...
The VA has a placement program.
Have they not been able to help?
Yeah, a couple of my buddies tried that.
They're still looking for work.
Well, the dailies always need drivers
and guys on the loading dock.
Maybe Sam can make a few calls.
- That would be good. - Of course.
But the Department of Labor has unemployment
as low as it's been since, I want to say '51, '52?
And in New York, I mean,
between the Classifieds, the VA,
and going door to door,
you still can't turn up any work?
You know what? I'm toast.
I'm gonna call this one.
Noah, I didn't mean to imply that what you're doing...
No, no. It's okay.
I'm drunk. I'm tired.
We'll pick this up soon, buddy, I promise.
It's good to meet you, Jane.
Nice to meet you, too.
Oh.
Cindy, come here.
Tony's got it in his head
he can set up Roger with the General's neice.
Wake up, wake up. Say something.
Wake up.
Come on, sit down.
It's been a long day.
I think I'm just going to go to bed.
But it's "I Dream of Jeannie."
Not tonight, Lenny.
I just saw him leave with another girl.
Really? Well, I'd better tell Major Nelson.
Darling, may we dance? Please?
Oh, I'd love to.
Here we go.
Major Nelson, Patricia. What a coincidence.
I, uh... Yeah. Uh...
Ohh.
Room 212.
Can you please patch me through to the London bureau
of News of the Week? On Haymarket.
Thank you.
Alistair, you old coot, you're in early.
I wanted to make sure you received my Editor's Page.
No. Talia and I decided to...
we decided to take in the town, see the sights.
Why? is some...
What?
Finn?
Is everything all right?
Patti. Patti.
What's up?
Vivian and I are in.
Oh, thank God.
Ladies, I really need this.
- So what happens now? - Okay,
now we need to just get as many girls together,
but try to be discreet about it
because if anyone were to find out about this,
- it would be all over. - Uh, ahem.
All right, what is this?
What's what?
Patti, please. I wasn't born on a farm.
The four of you are up to something.
We're not up to anything. What would we even be up to?
What are you up to, Jane?
A tinkle.
Wick!
Wick fucking McFadden!
Get the fuck down here.
Where is he?
Where the hell is he?
You son of a bitch.
You goddamn prick.
You got some gall.
What the hell is this?
We tried to reach you.
We tried you at the London bureau, the hotel...
- Repeatedly. - How was I not clear?
What part of "Run the fucking story"
did you misunderstand?
General Peers would not confirm or deny your story.
So you write "No comment," and you fucking run it.
Tomorrow, Time magazine will have Songmy on the cover,
and you know what I've got?
The goddamn Week In Photos!
It's a question of liability.
I am the editor at large.
It is a question of insubordination.
But you want to write the fucking magazine, don't you?
You know, that's what you want.
You want to write the magazine, well, here you go
because you know what's best, don't you?
Take the typewriter!
This is unnecessary.
Take the fucking typewriter, you cocksucker.
I am not taking the goddamn typewriter.
Then stop trying to do my fucking job!
Get out of my newsroom.
- Woodhouse... - You're fired.
Angie, have one of the girls collect my belongings.
We'll call for a courier. Get the fuck out.
Anyone else have a problem
with the way things run around here?