Foreign Correspondent

- What's new? - Same old daily bunkeroo.

Mr. Powers says he wants to see that foreign stuff as soon as it comes in.

Don't declare war for a few minutes.

"According to a high official, it is believed..."

Bah!

Foreign correspondent!

I could get more news out of Europe looking in a crystal ball.

That, uh, Stebbins cable has a morsel in it.

Stebbins makes me sick. They all make me sick.

Europe about to blow up, and all I can get out of my foreign staff...

is a daily guessing game.

- I want some facts, Mr. Bradley! - For instance?

Any kind of facts.

There must be something going on in Europe beside a nervous breakdown.

Why not try sending me over, Mr. Powers?

You've written a book on economics or something...

The Twilight of Feudalism.

Yes. It was very well received.

Not by me. I don't want any more economists...

sages or oracles bombinating over our cables.

I want a reporter, somebody who doesn't know the difference...

between an "ism" and a kangaroo.

A good, honest crime reporter... that's what the Globe needs.

That's what Europe needs.

There's a crime hatching on that bedeviled continent.

Wait a minute.

I've got something that might pass for an idea.

Who was that fellow that ran down the payroll robbery last week?

Oh, you mean Johnny Jones.

He beat up a policeman, didn't he, in the line of duty?

Yes, there's talk at the City desk of firing him.

Hmm. Beat up a policeman, eh?

Sounds ideal for Europe.

Send Mr. Jones up here right away.

Mr. Powers wants to see you, Mr. Jones.

- He does, huh? - You should come right away.

- What about? - I ain't in his confidence.

Tell him to save his breath. Tell him I've resigned.

- I'm supposed to bring you there. - Okay.

Wait till I open this.

Where's Mr. Jones? I told you to send him right up here!

- Are you Mr. Jones? - Yes.

Sit down, please.

Oh. You mind a personal question?

- No. - Are you married?

- No luck. - Single, eh?

- Ever been in Europe? - No.

What's your opinion of the present European crisis, Mr. Jones?

What crisis?

I'm referring to the impending war.

Oh, that. To tell you the truth, Mr. Powers, I haven't given it much thought.

You don't keep up with our foreign news, do you?

Mr. Powers, if you're gonna fire me, you can scrap the intelligence test.

It's okay with me. I can get a job on any other newspaper in town.

- So long. - Wait a minute.

- Nobody fired you. - Huh?

How would you like to cover the biggest story in the world today?

- Give me an expense account, and I'll cover anything. - I'll give you an expense account.

- Okay, what's the story? - Europe.

I'm not exactly equipped, but I could do some reading up.

No, I like you just as you are.

What Europe needs is a fresh, unused mind.

- Foreign correspondent, huh? - No. Reporter.

I don't want correspondence. I want news.

Think you could dig up some news in Europe?

- I'd be very happy to try, sir. - This is what I mean.

Mr. Van Meer, when questioned by our oracle, Mr. Stebbins...

refused to open his mouth.

Twelve hundred words cable-tolled to the fact that...

the great Van Meer had nothing to say.

You know what that stuff is doing? Driving our readers crazy with frustration.

Who's Van Meer?

Keynote to the European situation today.

Listen, Jones. If Van Meer stays at the helm...

of his country's affairs for the next three months...

it may mean peace in Europe.

If we knew what he was thinking, we'd know where Europe stands.

- A German, huh? - No. Holland's strongman.

One of two signers of the Dutch treaty with the Belgians.

Now, this is your first assignment.

Talk with him, find out what's in that treaty...

and what he thinks is going to happen... facts.

- Van Meer, huh? - Right.

- Anybody else? - No.

How about Hitler? Don't you think it'd be good to pump him? He must have something on his mind.

- Yes? - Mr. Stephen Fisher to see you, Mr. Powers.

Tell him to come in. Did you ever hear of Stephen Fisher?

- I'm afraid he's not on my beat. - He is from now on.

He's head of the Universal Peace Party, and very close to Van Meer.

They're both working to prevent Europe going up in flames.

Oh.

- How do you do, Mr. Fisher? - How are you?

- Nice of you to come over. Sit down. - Thank you.

Mr. Fisher, Mr. Jones, our new foreign correspondent.

- I want you to know each other. - How do you do?

"Jones"... I don't like that name.

It's going to handicap you, young man.

Now, wait a minute.

I've got some sort of a name here.

Yes. "Haverstock." "Huntley Haverstock."

- Sounds more important, don't you think? - Oh, yes. Very dashing too.

- It sounds better than Richard Harding Davis. - What's the matter with that?

We can't use that.

That's the name of one of our greatest war correspondents 40 years ago.

Speak up, young man. You don't mind being Huntley Haverstock, do you?

A rose by any name, sir.

It's exciting being present at the christening of an American newspaper correspondent.

Shouldn't we break a bottle of champagne over him?

Break one over my head to see if I'm still awake. "Huntley Haverstock."

Well, Mr. Haverstock, you'd better get started.

You've got a lot to do... passports, photos, visas...

- Expenses. - I'll send a note to the cashier.

I hope you brought your Sunday articles over.

I managed three of them.

- See you in London, Mr. Haverstock. - Yes, of course.

Thank you, Mr. Powers. Thank you for everything.

Except Huntley Haverstock.

Get a load of this, Mother.

How's it look? Chic?

Don't wear it over one eye. It makes you look like a gangster.

You always think boys are wearing their hats over one eye. Let him wear it the way it is.

He'll have to wear a stovepipe when he gets to London. They call 'em poppers.

- Toppers, Uncle Bjorn. - Bobby, put that in the box for Uncle John.

- Let me try it on. - No, I'm going to first.

- Now he's a regular war correspondent. - Without a war.

- He'll get his war, all right. - Aw, they're all throwing a big bluff over there.

Let's hope so.

Mother, how do you like the way we have our nest furnished?

I'd hang lighter curtains, and I'd move that sofa out in the middle.

It's too bad you haven't an open fireplace.

If you'd speak to the captain, he'd tend to everything.

All ashore that's going ashore!

All ashore...

Now, Mother.

You're Jones, aren't you? My name's Stebbins, London man for the Globe.

Yes, Mr. Powers told me you'd be here. Nice of you to come.

- I lost mine on the way over. - I can say your other name too...

that Huntley Tavers... feld...

I could say it yesterday, but I had a tough session with the boys last night.

- I'll stick to Jones, if you don't mind. - Jones is great with me.

Let's get out of here. This crowd's making me nervous.

My nerves aren't in the pink this morning.

You take it easy. I'll follow you.

- Porter, bring those bags, and don't bang them into my knees. - Very good, sir.

What about a drink after that long train ride?

Sounds like a very logical idea.

I may not act it, but I've been here 25 years...

London man for the Globe, and they haven't caught on to me yet.

- How did you manage it? - You cable back the government handouts...

and sign 'em "our London correspondent."

- What's yours? - Scotch and soda, please.

- Miss? Oh, miss? - Just a moment, sir.

Oh, miss, please...

Scotch and soda and a glass of milk.

- "A glass of milk"? - I'm on the wagon.

I went to the doctor today about these jitters...

and he said it was the wagon for a month or a new set of organs.

I can't afford new organs.

If I'd known you were on the wagon, I could've got along without this...

but as long as it's here...

Good luck.

- Good? - Just like any other scotch and soda.

That's what I thought.

Doesn't taste the way it did when I was a baby. That's got poison in it.

Speaking of poison, I got some pills...

Oh, some cables have been coming over from New York.

They love to cable. Makes them think you're working for them.

There's an invitation to that lunch for the Dutchman Van Meer tomorrow.

I guess that's your dish.

This is given by the Universal Peace Party. That's Fisher's organization, isn't it?

I don't know. I don't follow those things very much.

New York wants it, I send it. That's the secret of being a correspondent.

Been doing it 25 years.

Twenty-five years, and I end up on milk.

- Good morning. How's the water wagon? - Look at that.

One of them shook off this morning.

Oh... well, I'm just on my way to the Van Meer luncheon.

I've got to have lunch here with old man Clark. He's the international...

Here you are. I didn't know whether to meet you in the grill or upstairs.

Hmm. Good-bye, Stebbins.

Good-bye, Miss, uh, Clark.

Who is he calling "Clark"? He's got his nerve.

Oh, some fresh American reporter.

Good morning, Mr. Van Meer.

I beg your pardon, sir. You are Mr. Van Meer, aren't you?

That's my name, yes.

My name's Haverstock. You don't know me. I'm an American.

- I happened to be on my way to your luncheon. - Ah?

- Then perhaps... - That's very kind of you, sir...

Come. Come, come. It's all in a good cause.

Savoy Hotel.

- This is very kind of you, Mr. Van Meer. - It's a pleasure, my boy.

I dislike riding alone.

One thinks too much while riding alone.

Yes, exactly. The Polish situation...

and the Dutch treaty with the Belgians must be on your mind these days.

What do you feel England will do in case the Nazis...

England is so beautiful, hmm?

It's nice to see London in the sunshine.

Always there is lots of rain or fog.