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Show Newspaper Man Stuff: So here's to the gallant reporters. The boys with the pencils and pads, Those cool, imperturbable, calm, indisturbable, Nervy, inquisitive lads. Each time that tve pick up a paper. Their marvelous deeds tve should bless; Those bold, reprehensible, brave, indispensable Sensible lads of the press! Newman Levy. City editors are like those you see in the movies . . . They really are . . . Cynical, indifferent and inces-' inces-' santly so-whatty . . . Ask Jim Bishop, Bish-op, one of the Mirror's nimble newspaper news-paper sleuths . . . Jim was a witness wit-ness to this incident many years ago ... It was one of those lovely tidbits tid-bits that brightened a dull night . . . Out of the nowhere came a stranger loosely waving a pistol ... "I wanna wan-na see the Fish and Game editor," he said softly, "very important" . . . And so Bishop brought him to the Fish and Game man ... "I Just killed my wife," began the fellow. "I trussed her in a trunk and then I tied up her boy friend in a chair and then I set fire to him. I always liked your column, so I thought I'd give you the scoop." Bishop and the Fish and Game editor took him over to the city editor edi-tor .. . Now this city editor is one of those guys who wouldn't blink if Rommel walked in and brought Hitler Hit-ler with him and he was irked . . . "I'm busy," he said, motioning to his assistant across the slot . . . The murderer was told to repeat his story to the assistant city ed . . . He took a deep breath and rubbed his face, which was scratched like a ten cent ruby ... As he unfolded the details he kept yanking chunks of wire and rope from his pockets, and waving the pistol . . , The city editor never looked up from the copy he was studying, except to stifle a butt "Now with this rope," said the killer, "I tied up her boy friend. And with this wire I strangled her lovely throat And here is the pistol, you can see for yourself that one bullet is missing" . . . The indifferent city editor, who war still occupied with the dummy of a page, looked up and said to his assistant: "Hey. Think there's anything to this one?" This actually happened recently in one of the editorial offices . . . There had been rumors again that a shake-up shake-up was taking place and that heads would roll . . . One morning a stranger sat at a desk In the corner and answered the phone when it rang and when it wasn't ringing, he just looked around at everybody . . . It gave the staff the screaming Jitters Jit-ters . . . Nobody knew just what he was there for and all were afraid to ask . . . Finally, one feature writer writ-er engaged him in gab . . . "What is your job around here?" he asked . . . "Oh, I don't work here," was the reply . . . "Well, then," queried the other, "who are you waiting to see?" . . . "Oh," said the stranger, "I'm not waiting to see anyone. My friend works in the advertising department de-partment I'm his insurance agent He told me I could use this desk." The reporters down at Police ITquarters are the most colorful, we think . . . They "live" in a shack across the street from the gold braid cops . . . Life is a game of pinochle, a brass bell bonglng a second alarm, a slip boy shuffling in with a suicide's name and address or a phone call from the city desk to check on a rumor out of Washington that the Nazis are Invading Turkey ... But what we started out to ay was that the kid who brings the morning papers to the nltcside reporters re-porters there was bawled out by one of them. The boy had forgotten to leave a Times for the irate man . . . The kid said he was very sorry, and that it wouldn't happen again . . , "It better not" barked the reporter. "You know I bring a fish home every ev-ery morning. What the hell am I gonna wrap It up in?" My favorite newspaper man story always was the one about the veteran vet-eran editor, who on Christmas Eve gave these Instructions to a cub . . . "Now I want you to go down to the Bowery," said the boss, "and dig up some human interest about those poor unfortunates. Jot down how they enjoyed their Christmas dinner at the mission. Then after you cover the Salvaton Army feast for the poor bring me a couple of hot dogs." Those are the kind ef atorles scribes tell each other, at any rate, and they have spellbound newspa-per newspa-per men ever since they got their first assignments . . . Take this one, frlxample . . . Nobody's asking you to believe it . . . But take It any. how ... A reporter phoned his city desk about a homicide . . . "The core." he said, "Is still at the scene of the crime!" "Don't you mean corpse?7 snarled the rewrite man. "I certinny don'ti" was the re-tort re-tort "There was only one!" |