Great Scott! A hard day of owning lots of newspapers makes me thirsty for some libations. This place looks good.

[Buzz! Buzz!]

My skills of deduction have led me to believe that revelry must be coming from the printing floor in the basement!

By Jove, this entryway is positively chock-full of newspapers I probably don't own.

And all of them are from San Francisco!

Riots on Alcatraz? How very uncouth.

Once you remove all the printing presses, it's actually quite pleasant down here.

Being rich like I am, I do so love sitting up high, and this black leather stool will do swimmingly. What to do now...

Ah, yes, drinks!

Say, barkeep! Barkeep?

Perhaps this Andrew Jackson bank note will help!

First class job.

My good man, this Clover Club looks most intriguing. So naturally, instead of drinking it, I'm going to explore the establishment!

My four buxom secretaries have ones just like this.

Why yes, sipping on whiskey and absinthe truly is The American Way.

Oh dear, they have booths here as well! I do so love a cushioned nook.

And with a tufted red leather smoking chair? I must try it out.

Ah, yes, the drink menu is again crucial to the evening. As are you, my delectable pet [growling noises].

What a stirring concoction. That's also a pun.

Here we have it: Remember The Maine.

Tell me, madam, do you accept lewd telegrams as gratuity?

Much like the ship it's named after, this libation goes down quite easily. Time to end the evening and return to my modest 200-acre castle. Good show, Local Edition, good show!