Good Girls Revolt

Ready. Set.

Go!

- Yes. - Let's go.

- Let's go! - Come on, Jane.

Yes!

That a girl. Yes!

- Ha, ha! - Oh, oh.

I did it. Finally, I won.

No celebrating. I beat you by a foot.

No, no, no, Daddy. You know that I won.

Won my ass. I could have smoked a cigarette waiting for you.

You shouldn't lie. It sets a bad example.

Oh, you two.

Chad, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Chad, who won that race?

This is strictly Hollander business.

Reenie, let me buy you a juice.

Oh, such a gentleman.

Yeah. Put it on Gordy's tab.

All right.

Well, they asked me to audition for

"The Philadelphia Story."

Mm, you should. As Tracy Lord?

We'll be in the front row to cheer you on.

Oh, you don't cheer at a play.

But it is all at night, and then I wouldn't be home for Daddy

after his long day at work.

Well, wasn't it your goal to retire at 50, Daddy?

And that's, what, five years away?

Yes, exactly.

Now I have to wait until your idiot brother

can prove that he won't run the business into the ground,

so I will very likely be an old man,

unless I can leave the business to you, Chad.

Well, let's see.

Been at Townley's a month.

How early is too early to resign?

- Oh, I was... - No, she's finished.

Waiter: Oh, okay.

So finish that story.

"News of the Week," this is Charlie.

I wonder why she's here.

Patti: She's the publisher. She doesn't need a reason.

Oh, I read an article that despite being

one of the richest people in the country,

Mrs. Burkhart still enjoys making her own clothes.

I guarantee you she didn't make

those snake skin shoes she walked in on.

They look like they cost at least $50.

$50?

The Burkhart family made their fortune

from Kentucky bourbon, and as the story goes,

a giant oak tree fell on Bea's great great grandfather's house.

He made 40 oak barrels using that tree,

and used them to age his first batch of bourbon.

It's now called Storm Tree bourbon,

and it's one of the most sought after in the world.

Oh.

The Burkhart family is a client of my father's financial firm.

There it is.

Oh, Naomi, you have a run in your stockings.

I have an extra pair of L'eggs in my desk.

Let me get them for you.

Thank you.

I tell people when Daddy died,

he had so much bourbon in his blood,

they didn't have to embalm him.

Thank you.

Just a second and I will join you.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Bottoms up.

Mm.

Wow.

That is, uh, good stuff, strong, strong stuff.

That'll drive you to put a lamp shade on your head.

Well...

Now that we have had our frivolities,

let's get down to boring old business.

You know, for most of my life,

although my father was a rich bastard...

I was a failure at everything I ever did.

I failed at arithmetic,

I failed at three marriages,

and I can't get a seed to flower to save my life.

But despite my failures, people always remembered me.

Because you were the daughter of a rich bastard?

Well, that... That helped.

That has always helped, yes.

Uh, but, um, no.

People remembered me because I was different.

I said things that people didn't expect a lady to say,

and I wore things that made people turn their heads,

and I did things that, uh...

Well, I usually blamed on the bourbon.

But I am concerned that my daddy's magazine

is not memorable.

It's not interesting.

There's nothin' I can read in our magazine

that I can't read somewhere else,

and to add insult to injury,

"Time Magazine" is kicking our butt.

Well, we're kicking "Newsweek's" butt.

Look, I agree with you, Bea,

but the news is the news.

We're gonna be covering the same story.

Our goal is to tell it better than anybody else.

To go deeper inside...

We're not gonna beat "Time" at their game.

But the game is changing.

And I can assure you, we are looking to the future.

And what is it that you see?

Well, before long, "Time" is gonna be

the old people's magazine.

Meanwhile, there are 3 million 23 year old Americans out there.

Their parents read "Time Magazine,"

which means they're not going to.

They're looking for something different,

and I want "News of the Week" to be that something.

So that by the time they're 25,

we're their go-to magazine.

We're the voice that they trust.

That they can turn to.

Hm.

How are you going to do that?

Well, we're working on several initiatives...

How is he gonna do that, Wick?

Well, we're gonna write about

the things they care about.

Civil rights. The draft.

The back of the book stuff.

Uh, you know, and the arts, and the rock musicians.

"Rolling Stone" is less than two years old.

It's got a fraction of the subscribers that "Time" does,

and yet the young people, they can't stop talking about it.

Jan Wenner, he is not afraid to take risks.

That is exactly what we need to do.

You are saying that we're going to lose readers?

Well, you can't win new readers without...

We may lose some.

Hm.

Robinson.

Rhodes.

You left this in my apartment a while back.

Thought you might want it.

Need it.

Are you trying to drive a point home?

You will not be sleeping over

at my apartment anymore.

I got it.

We gonna be able to work together?

Yes.

Of course.

Jane.

Finn needs you.

- Bea, you remember Jane. - Of course.

I knew Jane when she had braces on her teeth,

and Gordy Hollander had a full head of hair.

It is so nice to see you again, Mrs. Burkhart.

Well, Jane was an excellent recommendation on your part.

She's kind of our head researcher around here.

Jane, maybe you can give Bea a little tour of the place before lunch.

Well, that would be nice. It's been a while.

I'd love to revisit how the sausages are made around here.

Well, I would love to show you around the sausage factory.

Um, may I carry this for you?

Oh.

Thank you.

Bill Shawn from "The New Yorker" called

to say he only found two typos in last week's issue.

Son of a bitch.

Inside joke.

- Angie. - Yes?

Is that a hand?

Yes. Yes, it is.

It's my daughter.

She woke up too sick to go to school today,

and my husband's on a construction site in Philly for three weeks.

And my neighbor who usually watches her in a pinch

is at the hospital having a baby of her own.

I understand how terrible the timing is

with Mrs. Burkhart being here and...

Angie, I... I didn't know you had a daughter.

Hi. What's your name?

Vera.

I hope you feel better soon.

Put her in my office, she can lay down. Comfy couch.

- What about... - It's better, it's private.

Are you sure?

Robinson.

Get over here.

How old are you?

Twenty-four.

Follow me.

Do you read this magazine?