Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

Every Tuesday BOY'S CINEMA 13 A cub reporter accidentally kills his boss during a fierce quarrel and the sentence of th.; court is—death ! Read of a girl's great sacrifice to save him. Starring Lew Ay res _™„^^^^_ and Genevieve Tobin. I Ambitions. BROADWAY, New York City, on a summer's morning. Seething witii people who jostled shoulder to shoulder, some on shopping expeditions, fttlierj, workers in the miglity city, hast- ening along the broad sidewalks to do some allotted task as quickly as they could. - On all sides a veritable bedlam of sound. Tho hum of voices, the din of traffic—taxi-cabs, private cars, lorries and trolley-cars all mingling to make the air hideous with a nerve-shattering noise. And not only in tlie street was it pan- demonium, biK in the shops and palatial offices that fringed the (Jreat White Way as well. One building in particular was in a perfect hubbul). a thirty-storey sky- scraper that caught the eye at once with it, newness and very modern architcc- tiiie. Ilerc it was the same day and night—noise, nothing but noise all the time. The publishing office and printing works of "The World." Xe'v York's foremost and leading newspaper, that had recently removed its home from the Bronx to these wonderful now premises A "quick-fire " paper, fearless of what it publislK'd. with a very efficient .staff working upon it—a staff that was proud of the paper and ever seeking to ad- vance into better positions upon it. 'One such wlio was impatiently eager for a lift on "The World " was Bob Marshall, a well-built an<l handsome youngster with clear blue-grey eyes and a mass of dark curly hair. Bob was little more than the printers' devil, the boy who did all the donkey work, such as running hither and thither on odci jobs, collecting nev.g items for the giant presses, distributing the first copies as they ran from the machines to the various departments for their edifica- tion. / Bob's ambiuoii v.^, Ir.g —he v. autc..! to "break " from the printing side, to be- come a member of the editorial staff. News writing was in his blood and tho pinnacle for which he aimed was that of reporter. With the midday edition of the paper "gone to bed." Bob. in shirt sleeves and dirty overalls, took up a position near an elevator window in a small room on the ground floor of the newspaper build- ing. From the basement came the roar of machinery as the presses churned out the news-sheets at record speed, but the youngster was lost to all save his rosy dreams of tho future. He had got to get on—to atiain his ambition somehow ! It was as he was thus ruminating that the small, wooden .service lift came shooting up from below bringing him back to his present job with a jerk. The lift stoppetl. and quickly raising the window, he drew out .some two .score copies of the new edition of "The World." and started on his rounds. Up the stairs he plodded, going into many of the rooms on the various floors di>tributing the specimen copies. The eighth storey eventually reached, the youngster turned in at a door that was marked on its frosted glass panel : "Chief Editorial Offices." Here it was all activity and noise. Reporters .scattered about the large apartment, pounding typewriters for all they were worth, scribljling with pencils so fast .that the ))oints seemed in danger of becoming red-hot. In the centre of the room stood a mas- sive flat-tojiped desk literally strewn with type-written pages, cuttings, and other paraphernalia of the newspajier office. Here sat two men of vastly difference appearances. A hall, thin-faced fellow with piercing grey eyes, sparse Ijrown hair tliat was inclined to U^ curly, and a determined jaw. A small but straggly moustache adorned his upper lip. a pipe «aj in ills mouth, and he was ia his shirt-sleeves. This man was the editor of "The World," a clever maa in hi;i job and greatly respected by his sub- ordinates. Xext to him w a» Mr. Win tor. proprietor of the paper, a cynical- looking man. neatly dressed, with hair that was turning grey, brown eyes, and a neatl_\-trimmed moustache. The two were evidently in consultation as Bob driftcil in and placed a copy of "The World " on the editor's desk, for tho latter was pointing something out to the proprietor that had appeared in an earlier edition. Bob paused, listening, not through any desire to i>lay the eavesdropper, but simply because anything and everytihing connected with "The World " interested him now thai he was set on advancing his position on the paper. News gleaned might stand him in good stead later on. "By tha way. Smithson." Mr. Winter was saying at tlie moment "did that storj of Senator Stanford's death come through'/'' The political man in question had been shot at the night before while returning to his home from the theatre. What it was all about was not known, but a re- porter had been assigned to the job of discovering the exact details for the. paper. "Al Stanton did his part, boss, and did it darned well." Frank Smithson took a pull at his pipe before continu- ing. "Yes. we got his story all set up in type, but Stanford's still hanging on. Suppose the old codger's going to die for the evening papers." William Winter laughed, then caught sight of Bob standing there, and frovvne<l heavily. Instantlv the youngster took to ills heels and hastened from the room. Tho telephone operator was next to receive a copy of "The World," and she gave Bob .somo candv and passed a Ocl'ot)Pr lOth. 10:U.