Notes on The Front Page

Hildy Johnson, star reporter, says to his fiancée Peggy at the end of Act Two - "That's what I am! A Bum!... And if you want me you'll have to take me as I am!" It is at once a rallying cry... and an admission of defeat.

A defeat because admitting that means giving up a dream of a cushy life in New York, middle class job, pretty wife, and no more "peeking through keyholes" and "running up fire escapes" in search of a scoop.

A rallying cry because he takes a stand for reporters everywhere - good, bad, or ugly, you better take me as I am. This statement shows a quintessentially American point of view. This same demand for individual expression and the right to self identification brought the Puritans here from England, and has been attracting the stubbornness, orneriest and most creative people from all over the world to our shores ever since.

Hildy, and the reporters who live and work in his shadow, are 100% American - creative, opportunistic, and relentless in pursuit of the next big thing. They are smart, quick thinkers, fantastic opportunists, and clever players of the game. Sometimes they are even charming. But they can also be uncouth, self centered, and not above bending a few rules and getting a little dirty (or a lot) to elbow their way to the head of the pack.

Over the years the reporters in The Front Page have helped to define our modern idea of the "journalist" in all its glory... and shame.

A reporter has the power to topple governments, expose scandal, and uncover truths. They can be great men, members of the fabled "Fourth Estate." But just because a reporter CAN do that, doesn't always mean he will. His first loyalty is to the story - and it's got to be exciting, entertaining, and readable. And then, if it also happens to be true, so much the better.

It's this ambivalence dangerous... and so interesting.

Even today, we read weekly about reporters paid to schill an administration's policies, or duped into committing high treason by exposing an undercover agent. Last year, a New York Times reporter was caught making up his stories, as Sheriff Hartman in The Front Page wryly observes, "out of whole cloth."

With this in mind, what was said about the media in 1929 can be said about the media today. And yet... and yet we couldn't live without them. Our thirst, our essentially American quest for the newest, fastest, best source of information about our world demands that we absorb the work of our nation's journalists the way a whale absorbs plankton - with big gulps, and with whatever filters we have at our disposal to sort out the quiet truth from entertaining junk.

And we mustn't forget that, true or not, nefarious or noble, the work of Hildy and his pals IS entertaining.

At least we hope you will find it so.

Enjoy the show, and as they say in the business, "don't forget to thank your ushers on the way out."

- Trisha Pancio Armour