Hi Nellie (Warner Bros.) (1934)

Iw, OMA Kictionization Y ately on request. OUR PICTURE AS A FIVE-DAY SERIAL Fans’ll be glad to read this yarn in the papers — and it’s the kind of action story newspapers pay plenty for ! In addition, there’s the added reader-attracting fact that it’s the siory of a new movie hit. In planting the story it is suggested that you arrange the release to give your show a two-day advance break. When planted, arrange for a poster display on the newspaper delivery trucks. Poster should be in block type with copy like this: tT, “ELL Fer Two Litile Words That Mean Worlds To You! Read it in the EVENING JOURNAL Starting Friday See PAUL MUNI bring it to the screen as the greatest picture of his career! One Whole Week STRAND Starting Thursday Mats of the serialization, complete with illustrations, will be sent immedi Price 75c, postpaid. Order Direct from—EDITOR, MERCHANDISING PLAN Warner Bros. Pictures, Inc., 321 West 44th Street, New York City “HEE. NELLIE” Based on the Warner Bros. picture of the same name, starring Paul Muni with Glenda Farrell, and coming soon to the Strand Theatre. Fictionization by Screen Romances Magazine CHAPTER I 66 F YOU really love the boy, let no man or woman stand mm your path to happiness, for love is a beau tiful—’’ Gerry Krale’s slim fingers paused in their rapid flight over the grimy keyboard of the typewriter, then slammed down on the machine with a terrific crash. ‘‘For love is a bee-yewtiful—’ > she trilled in a high falsetto as she read aloud the paragraph she had written. ‘*Simply bee-yew-tiful—aw, nerts!’’ Gerry jerked the paper from the machine and hurled it violently into the wastebasket, already full of similar tributes of her anger. Her chair screeched in shrill protest as she leaned back and lit a fresh cigarette from the stub of the one she had been smoking, This was getting impossible, she told herself desperately. Her column due in ten minutes and not even half finished! Only yesterday she had been warned that if she were late again... Setting her lips grimly,’ she leaned forward, inserted another sheet in the machine and began to type frantically. Her thoughts kept pace with her flying fingers. For eight months she had slaved in this dingy hole of an office, answering the halfwitted, pitiful queries of a loveJorn New York — eight dreary months in which Gerry Krale, the country’s best known newspaper woman, had had to mask behind the office nom-de-plume of ‘‘ Nellie Nelson,’’ Heart-Throbs Editor for the great Times-Star — eight nightmarish months in which she had suffered the staif’s derisive salutation of ‘‘Hi, Nellie!’’ And the end was not in sight! She could quit, of course, but that, she promised herself grimly, she would never do so long as Sam Bradshaw was managing editor. For it had been Brad who had demoted her to this ridiculous position, ‘‘punished’’ her for falling down on an assignment she had missed through no fault of her own. He had been deaf to her explanations, and, what was worse, had completely ignored the bonds of a friendship which had existed between them ever since she had gone in for newspaper work. They had been the best of pals, and out of the various city rooms in which they had worked — always together. There was even a time, not so long ago, when she had thought of Brad in a more serious, more personal association. Gerry deliberately thrust the memories from her. All that was over and done now... If Brad preferred the part of the loyal newspaperman, the righteous editor, she could play her role, too. Brad would stumble some time, and when he fell she was going to be around to have the last laugh, Even as Gerry pounded savagely on her machine, Brad’ was already slipping ... As he stepped into the city room that morning his assistant, Dawes, rushed up to him excitedly. The greatest story of the year had just broken, he reported breathlessly. The Central Labor Bank had closed, with a half-million dollar shortage—and its president, Frank Canfield, head of the Governor’s graft investigation committee, had mysteriously disappeared! ‘*Boy, oh boy! What a story we got!’’ Dawes told his chief exultantly. He held up the dum “Well, it looks as if P’'m fired,” said Bradshaw. lion! Nothing doing!’ Dawes fiung the proofs on the floor...‘‘ Every paper in town will play it that way,’’ he muttered sullenly. ‘‘T’m only interested in this paper,’’? Brad shot back arrogantly. ““And you’ll play it my way.’’ (Pau! Muni get ting the well known gate, in a scene from Warner Bros. smash newspaper drama, “Hi, Nellie!’ ) my of the front page. I’ve ordered an eight-column spread — here’s. the head: —— ‘CANFIELD DISAPPEARANCE CLOSES CENTRAL Larork BANK’ —’’ Brad whirled around quickly to the make-up editor. ‘“Kill it, Smith!’’? he yelled, then turned with cold fury on Dawes. ‘‘Don’t you let me ever catch you putting anything like that in this paper,’’ he warned the startled man. ‘‘You haven’t one bit of proof that Canfield took a penny from that bank, and you’re all ready to crucify him as a thief!’? “But, Prad-=2it-s simplele? Dawes protested. ‘‘No dough—no Canfield — it’s just putting two and two together —’’ “And adding them up to a mil CHAPTER II UT J. L. Graham, publisher of the Times-Star, didn’t seem to see it that way at all. Summoning Brad to his office he thrust the copies of the rival papers before him and pointed with silent wrath to cach sereaming headline accusing Canfield of the embezzlement. ““The biggest story since Lindbergh flew to Paris — and the Times-Star buries it!’’ he thundered at Brad. ‘‘Have you lost your mind?’’ ““Tt was my judgment,’’ Brad returned calmly. Graham snorted contemptuously. ““Your judgment? Have you forgotten who owns this newspaper?’” f* No, haver’t, but" L’m* the managing editor, J. L., and I don’t give a flying hoot about the other papers.’’ Brad’s voice rose warningly. ‘‘Frank Canfield’s always been on the level. We backed him in all his investigations, even though it meant bucking Boss Thompson and O’Connell and the rest of those murdering grafters. So until Canfield’s proved otherwise, I’m giving him a break. Let the others knife an honorable man and his family. That’s not my way—I’m running a newspaper!’? Graham eyed him coldly. ‘‘ You mean you were running a newspaper,’’ he said _ significantly. ““You’re fired!’ Brad fell back, stunned. Then a grin twisted his lips. He leaned across Graham’s desk and shook a finger at him playfully. ““Don’t lose your head, J. L.,’’ he chided with mock concern. ““You’re forgetting my contract. Fifteen thousand smackers a year —and it has three years to go!’?’ Graham leaped to his feet, almost apoplectic with rage. {SAll right, sue me!’?: he stormed, ““But get out!’’ His eyes blazed. On his way back to his office, Brad saw Gerry’s open door and swaggered in. ““Hi, Nellie!’’ he called heartily. slapping her on the back. ‘“T’ve got some good news for you!’’ She looked up at him sharply. Sudden hope gleamed in her eyes. ‘¢You’re putting me back on the city staff?’’ she asked quickly. Brad shook his head. ‘‘No — better than that.’’ He leaned forward and chucked her under the chin, ‘‘I’ve been fired, baby. That Canfield yarn — J. L. says I mufFede 2 Gerry sat back, gloating. ‘‘ You sure did!’’ she taunted. ‘‘You flopped cold and am TI laughing! You only have to slip up onee, mister, to get the business, and how do you like it, pal?’’ ‘*T like it fine,’’ Brad retorted. *‘So I’ll take myself a vacation —with pay.’’ ‘““Yeah?’’ she shot back sneering. ‘‘Well, I hope they take you over the jumps, mister. I want to see you end up on the rim of some hick sheet — or in the gutter! ’’ (Continued Tomorrow) Page Seven