All language subtitles for Gangs.of.New.York.2002

No, son. Never.

The blood stays on the blade.

One day, you'll understand.

Some of it I half-remember.

And the rest...

The rest I took from dreams.

St. Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.

Be our protector against the snares

and the wickedness of the devil.

- Now son, who's that?
- St. Michael.

- Who is it?
- St. Michael.

- And what did he do?
- He cast Satan out of Paradise.

Good boy!

May God put the steel
of the Holy Spirit in your spine

and the love of the Blessed Virgin
in your heart.

Hey, boyo!

- Johnny!
- What's the battle?

Natives against the Dead Rabbits.

- Which are you?
- What do you think?

Dead Rabbits!

Well, well, Monk!
Are you with us or not?

For the last time, Vallon,
I'm with you if the money is right.

I'll give you 10 per notch.

- Ten?
- You have my word.

- Ten per notch.
- Per new notch.

Then I'm your man.

Is this it, Priest?
The Pope's new army?

A few crusty bitches
and a handful of ragtags?

I know, Bill.

You swore this was a battle
between warriors,

not a bunch of Miss Nancies.

So warriors is what I brought.

- The O'Connell Guard!
- The Plug Uglies!

The Shirt Tails!

- The Chichesters!
- The Forty Thieves!

Bene.

On my challenge,

by the ancient laws of combat,

we are met at this chosen ground
to settle for good and all

who holds sway over the Five Points.

Us Natives, born rightwise
to this fine land,

or the foreign hordes defiling it!

By the ancient laws of combat,

I accept the challenge of
the so-called Natives.

You plague our people at every turn!

But from this day out,
you shall plague us no more!

For let it be known,

that the hand that tries
to strike us from this land

shall be swiftly cut down!

Then may the Christian Lord
guide my hand

against your Roman popery!

Prepare to receive the true Lord!

Priest!

Look at me!

Who is this under my knife?

- Father. Get up! Get up!
- Where are you?

Where are you?

Oh, my son.

Don't never look away!

Soon be over, Priest.

Finish it!

You may need this to cross the river.

Ears and noses
will be the trophies of the day.

But no hand shall touch him!

No hand shall touch him!

He'll cross over whole!

In honor!

Not before I get what's owed.

No!

It's fair. A touch indelicate, but fair.

My sympathies.

- What will we do with the boy?
- Look at me.

Give him to the law.
See he gets a good education.

Okay, boy.
Say goodbye to your father.

Hey. Take it easy!

Hey!

Get him! Get him!

- Don't let him get away!
- Hurry! Come in here!

Come here, boy.
You're going to Hellgate, son!

- There he is!
- Get him!

- Priest Vallon died a noble death.
- Let go of me!

But his Dead Rabbits
is done and outlawed!

Let no one even speak their name
from this time on.

In this place,

you have grown from a boy into a man.

Put to death the earthly things in you.

Immorality. Impurity. Passion.
Vengeance.

The Lord has forgiven you.

You also must forgive.

You go forth to a country
torn apart by civil strife.

Thank you, Reverend.

Lend your hand
to the work that yet remains,

that this war may end,

and the plague of slavery

that brought this
conflagration down upon us

vanish forever from the Earth.

In the second year
of the Great Civil War,

when the Irish Brigade
marched through the streets,

New York was a city full of tribes.

War chiefs.

Rich and poor.

Lincoln will make
all white men slaves!

It wasn't a city, really.

It was more a furnace.
Where a city someday

might be forged.

That's the spirit, boys.

Go off and die for your blackie friends.

We should have run a better man
against Lincoln

when we had the chance.

New York to secede
from the Union!

Are you trying to say
we're no different than niggers?

- You ain't.
- Good evening, brother.

- God save the Union!
- The Union forever!

McGLOIN: Go back to Africa, niggers!

Africa!

The angriest talk
was of the new Conscription Act.

The first draft in Union history.

Join the army, lads.

Three square meals a day
and good pay.

When the Irish came,
the city was in a fever.

Since the time of the Great Famine,
they'd come streaming off the boats.

And they got a right warm welcome.

Go back to Ireland, you dumb Mick!

- You'll remember that, you bog eyes!
- Get back on the boat, Paddy!

I only came two hours
downriver from Hellgate,

but they all took me for an immigrant.

Why not?

There were a thousand
different accents in New York,

and to the Natives, you see,
it was all the same.

Tammany's here to take the chill off
your soul and the weight off your heart.

Welcome to America, son.
Your long, arduous journey is over.

- Go back to your own country.
- Vote Tammany!

America for Americans!

New York loved
William Tweed, and hated him.

And those of us trying to be thieves...
We couldn't help but admire him.

Mr. Cutting. Gentlemen.

- Thank you for coming. It's an honor.
- Mr. Tweed.

Sir. Please. Excuse me?
I think you're frightening them.

So?

Don't mind him,
he used to be an Irishman.

Ah, the Five Points!
Murderer's Alley. Brickbat Mansion.

The Gates of Hell!

It is here, in this vile place...

Look upon the face of this poor child.

She lives in squalor,

in this Godforsaken den of
vice and misery behind me...

Every year the reformers came.

Every year the Points got worse.

As if it liked being dirty.

- Where am I going to go?
- Move.

- The Reverend wants you out of here.
- He can't do that!

Come on, you filthy tosser!

Move!

From the filthy dens

to which these miserable creatures
have fallen.

In God they will find their true home.

You may or may not know, Bill,

that every day I go down
to the waterfront

with hot soup for the Irish
as they come ashore.

- As part of building a political base.
- I've noticed you there.

- You may have noticed me.
- Indeed, I have!

Throwing torrents of pavers

and withering abuse on every single
person who steps off those boats.

If only I had the guns, Mr. Tweed,

I'd shoot each and every one of them
before they set foot on American soil.

Mulberry Street

and Worth.

Cross and Orange and Little Water.

Each of the Five Points is a finger.

When I close my hand,
it becomes a fist.

And any time that I wish,

I can turn it against you.

I understand.
But we're talking about different things.

I'm talking about civic duty.

Responsibilities we owe to the people.
Schools and hospitals,

sewers and utilities,

street construction,
repairs and sweeping.

Business licenses, saloon licenses...

St. Michael
the Archangel, defend us in battle.

Be our protector against the snares
and the wickedness of the devil.

Streetcars, ferries, rubbish disposal.

There's a power of money
to be made in this city, Bill.

With your help, the people
must be made to understand

that all these things are best kept

within what I like to call
the Tammany family.

Which is why I am talking about

an alliance between
our two great organizations.

- You're talking about muscle work.
- That too. Muscle to match our spirit.

You own the crushers,
get them to do it.

The police? Oh, no! Jesus, no!

The appearance of the law
must be upheld.

Especially while it's being broken.

Give me the strength
for what I must do.

Who are you?

- Hey.
- No.

I said, who are you?
What are you doing here?

I just like it down here, is all.

See what's in his pockets, Jimmy.

Now, look. Look, boys.
I really don't want to fight.

Don't want to fight?

Don't worry, son.
Ain't gonna be much of a fight.

Don't kill me.

- Where'd you get that?
- I told you I didn't want to fight!

Why not? Look how good you done.

You're the Priest's son, aren't you?

You. Get away from me,
you understand?

You don't remember me, do you?
I was the one tried to help you.

- What?
- I was the one tried to help you.

When the Natives took you.

- That was you?
- Yeah.

I thought you was killed.

They just locked me up,
you know that?

This long?

Well, I kept trying to escape, you know.

They add on time for that.

So what are you doing back here?

Guess I missed the place.

Bowery Boys.

Get back here!

The Five Points. Paradise Square!

The streets here are always
lively of an evening.

Who are the gangs around now?

We got the Daybreak Boys
and the Swamp Angels.

They work the River looting ships.

The Frog Hollows shanghai sailors
down around the Bloody Angle.

Shirt Tails was rough for awhile,

but they become
a bunch of jackrolling dandies,

lolling around Murderer's Alley
looking like Chinamen.

Hell-Cat Maggie,
she tried to open her own grog shop.

But she drunk up all her own liquor
and got throwed out on the street.

Beautiful.

Now she's on the lay for anything.

There's the Plug Uglies, they're from
somewhere deep in the Old Country.

They got their own language.

No one understands
what they're saying.

They love to fight the cops. And the
Night Walkers on Ragpicker's Row.

They work on their backs
and kill with their hands.

They're so scurvy,
only the Plug Uglies will talk to them.

But who knows what they're saying.

The Slaughter Housers
and the Broadway Twisters,

they're a fine bunch of bingo boys!

And the little Forty Thieves.
I used to run with them for a while.

Till they got took over
by Bendrick the Cockroach

and his red-eyed buggers.

Bendrick carries a germ.

If you try to leave the gang,
they say he hacks up blood on you.

The lime-juicers are nothing
but a bunch of rapacious grab-ups...

The True Blue Americans
call themselves a gang,

but all they really do is stand around
on corners, damning England.

If you believe one word
that the British say, you're a fool.

Any of them got the sand
of the Dead Rabbits?

You don't say that name.

That name died with your...
It's been outlawed.

When I was in the blockhouse,
the chinks told me

that the Natives celebrate
their victory every year.

Is that true?

Aye, that they do. It's quite the affair.

The Butcher himself's got
to invite you, or you don't go.

Look where you're going, Johnny!

You look stunned and poorly, sir!

Quite a pair of conversationists,
aren't you!

Maybe not. We're deep thinkers.

Well, gentlemen, I leave you
in the grace and favor of the Lord!

Jenny, finest bludget in all the Points.

She is a prim-looking star-gazer!

But I'd check my pockets if I was you,

because I do believe
she lifted your timepiece.

I let her take it.

I let her take things all the time.

- Is that right?
- Yeah.

We always liked
a good fire in the Points.

You could generally pick up
a little swag,

and if the cops came along,
then you really got a show.

The Municipal Police fought
the Metropolitan Police.

The Metropolitan Police,
they fought the street gangs.

Hurry up, men,
before the Black Joke get there!

There were 37
amateur fire brigades,

and they all fought each other.

The Black Joke
are on their way,

Tweed, and they'll beat the shite
out of you.

Okay, boys! Get the hose out!

It's the Black Joke!

Go get 'em, boys!

Give those Bowery Boys hell!

Quick,
before there's nothing left!

Go back to the Bowery, ya bum!

Stop them. For God's sake,
they're taking everything!

In your next time of trouble, ma'am,
call on Tammany first!

But it's not too late.
You can still save my house!

Let's go!

I thought you said you was hungry!

Grab what you can, Johnny.
Let's get out of here!

May I point out that this building
is burning to ashes?

And may I point out that this area

is the province
of my own Americus fire brigade,

and that you lot belong
only in the Bowery?

May I point out that
you're outmanned, outmaneuvered

and in a moment, outfought?

Am I?

There's the Black Joke!
Let's take them on the cobbles!

Go spill some claret, boys.

Where's Johnny? Have a nice Mass?

Clear the way for Bill The Butcher.

Okay, boys, to work!

What's the point?

The fire's near burned
anything of value inside.

Boys, forget that one.
Next building over.

Mustn't let it spread!

- Take what you want from that one.
- What are you doing?

What are you doing?
There's nothing wrong with this one!

This is my house.

- Johnny!
- Help!

Johnny!

Help!

Help! Help!

Help!

Come on.
Come on, Johnny. Get up! Leave that.

You two, on your way!

His name's Amsterdam.

- How's the beak?
- Ain't so bad.

You. You got anything,
you can give it up or you get out.

- Is that it?
- That's it.

Right. Here's the rake.
Everything comes here, we fence it,

Johnny takes our tribute to the Natives,
and we chop up the winnings.

Each to his equal portion
amongst the gang.

Does that meet
with your approval, Hellgate?

My approval?

What's the matter, jack sprat,
can't you think for yourself?

I'll slit your fucking throat!

You boys will settle with me
before settling with each other.

I come for my due and proper.

Well, this ain't a bad haul.

You know, when folks start into saying
to where the country's going to hell,

I always tell them,

"You just look at all the hard work
our fine young lads is doing

"down in the Five Points."

Oh, yeah. Now, this is just the thing
for Mrs. Mulraney.

All right there, Happy Jack.

Leave us with something
to quarter to Bill The Butcher, eh?

Would ya?

Not my favorite tune.

Thank you, boys.

You keep out of trouble, now.

Every year the Natives
celebrated the killing of my father

all over again.

At Sparrow's Chinese Pagoda
on Mott Street.

The chinks hated the Natives
worse than we did.

The drum rolls,
and the Butcher drinks a glass of fire.

When you kill a king,
you don't stab him in the dark.

You kill him where the whole court
can watch him die.

Hey, you got any timber?

As I walked down to Chatham Street

A fair maid I did meet

She asked me to see her home
She lived in Bleeker Street

To me away, you santee
My dear Annie!

Oh, you New York girls
Can't you dance the polka?

To me away, you santee
My dear Annie!

Oh, you New York girls
Can't you dance the polka?

We walked on through Bleeker Street
and stopped at 44

Her mother and her sister dared
to meet us at the door

Hey, Maggie.
Right ear or left ear?

- Give us a drink, you idiot.
- Help yourself.

- To health.
- Place your bets!

Two minutes to place your bets.

Gentlemen!
The match is due to commence.

The count to beat
is 25 rodents in three minutes.

Towser against the vermin.
Are the enumerators satisfied?

- Fifty!
- Yes!

Let them go!

- Where are you going, boy?
- I'm here to pay tribute to Bill.

Are you now? Give it to me.
I'll give it to him.

No, thanks. I'll give it to him myself.

What do you want to keep,
the money or your teeth, boyo?

John.

Welcome.

From me and me lads, sir.

Mate of yours? Where's he from?

Oh, he's not from here, sir.

You!

That's close enough!

Your friend can't look me in the eye.
That's not an admirable characteristic.

No one can look you in the eye, Bill.
Not when you're playing cards.

This is whist. This is a gentleman's
game. Make a gentleman's bet.

- I am betting large, Bill!
- That ain't large.

Please, don't make
that noise again, Harvey.

I like a man
who's willing to burn for his swag.

How do you fare on water?
Come closer.

Close, John, I ain't gonna bite. Close.

There's a Portuguese ship
lying low in the harbor.

Quarantined three weeks.

Get there before
the Daybreak Boys strip her.

Maybe you and me will talk some more.

- Consider it done, sir.
- Good boy.

And you. Whatever your name is.
What is your name?

- Amsterdam, sir.
- Amsterdam?

I'm New York.

Don't you never
come in here empty-handed again.

You gotta pay
for the pleasure of my company.

Take him for a boat ride, John.

Who knows, but he might
save your life again.

If the Daybreak Boys catch us
on this river, they'll slit our throats!

I'll do it myself
in a minute if you don't keep quiet!

I never liked the harbor after dark.

And now, each night, they brung
ashore the bodies of the soldiers.

So many mothers
have not even the solace

of knowing
where their sons have fallen.

I lost my own eldest at Antietam.

And his mother and I were unable
to recover his remains.

It was a mournful sight.

The war can't last forever.

But we had business of our own.

The Daybreak Boys have
already been here.

And there's nothing left.
Let's go back, eh?

What in hell?

Jimmy, get down!

Jesus, that'll bring
the harbor cops for sure!

Out of the way!

Let's take a look.

Jesus, they killed everybody!

There's nothing here but...

- Bunch of dead sea crabs.
- Come on. Let's go.

- Shove off!
- No. Wait for Amsterdam!

Where's Amsterdam?

- Oh, you damn fool! Take him.
- What in the hell for?

Look in my glims.
I said no less than 15!

- Wait. Is this fresh?
- Four hours, most.

Much obliged, gents.

What's that word?

- It means body snatchers.
- I didn't ask the meaning.

- I asked the word.
- Ghoul?

Ghoul? That's a good word.

"Ghoul gang slaughters,
a fresh outrage in the Five Points."

It's a notice you can be proud of.

- Thank you.
- Low thing, to do that to a body. Low.

Why? They could've left
that ship with nothing.

Instead, they made
The Police Gazette.

A periodical of note.

A body's supposed to stay
beneath the earth.

Wearing the wooden coat
until the Resurrection.

These two are just a pair
of bug-eating sons of Irish bitches,

same as you are.
Don't seem to bother them none.

And then, maybe they don't
share your religious scruples.

Maybe they're just
a couple of Fidlam Bens.

I've been called a lot of things, mister,
but I've never been called...

- Fidlam Bens.
- Fidlam Bens. Right.

Well, if I knew what in the hell
that meant,

I might be inclined to take offense.

A Fidlam Bens is a fellow
who steals anything, dead or alive,

because he's too low to work up
a decent lay for himself.

Count that careful, Bill. Just...

- Count it careful.
- I'm telling you, that's all there is.

- That's all they give us. That's all...
- Now, chiseler...

If you had said "chiseler,"

now there's a word
I understand, you know?

Now, is that what you're calling us?

I can think of a number of things
to call you, boyo!

Right. But I asked if you
was calling us chiselers?

Supposing I am?

Well, then we got business.

That we do!

Fight. There's a fight.

- Two bucks on McGloin!
- Four bits on the kid.

Five bits on the kid!

I got five on Amsterdam!

Come on, McGloin,
he's just a kid.

Four bits to back Amsterdam.

Watch his left, McGloin! Watch his left.

All right, that'll do. That'll do.

Anything to say now, huh?

That'll do, for Christ's sake.

- Drag him off.
- That's enough, kid. You got him.

- Come on. You won.
- McGloin?

You're getting too old for it, McGloin.

McGloin? How would that head look
without the ears and the nose on it?

You'd better leave that head alone, Bill.

I think I'm gonna trim the ears
and the beak off of that head.

Make a nice pot of soup of that head.

We could find
a tastier head than that, Bill.

I ain't got the stomach for no Irish stew.

The mighty McGloin.
Almost fishhooked by a sprat.

On the seventh day the Lord rested.
But before that he did,

he squatted over the side of England,
and what came out of him

was Ireland!

- No offense, son.
- None taken, sir.

I grew up here.

All I ever knew of Ireland was in the talk
of the others at the orphan asylum.

In which part of that excrementitious
isle were your forebears spawned?

I've been told Kerry,

but I lost proof of it in my language
at the asylum.

I was raised in a very
similar establishment myself.

Now, everything you see
belongs to me,

to one degree or another.

The beggars and newsboys
and quick thieves, here in Paradise,

sailor dives and gin mills
and blind tigers on the waterfront,

the anglers and amusers,

the she-he's and the chinks.

Everybody owes,
everybody pays, because

that's how you stand up against
the rising of the tide.

- Is that right, boys?
- Yeah, Bill, that's right.

Enlist. Join up!
Serve your country.

Volunteer and get your $50 bonus!

We need 30,000 volunteers, and we're
prepared to pay $677 per volunteer.

Please read this. Thank you.

Would you like to take one of these,
please, to fill out?

Three square meals a day.

Three square meals a day.
Young man?

Enlist and serve your country.

Three square meals a day, gentlemen.

If you're interested, I suggest you
read this and consider joining up.

Everywhere you went,
people talked about the draft.

Now, you could buy
your way out for $300.

But who had $300?

For us, it might as well
have been $3,000,000.

The recruiters... No, they was too
scared of the gangs to come after us.

Besides, we never dreamt the war
would ever touch New York.

Good morning, sir.

You! Don't you run into me.

Fair enough.

I said don't run into me!

Sorry!

- Everything in place?
- It seems so.

Well, then, I leave you

in the grace and favor of the Lord.

- That's right.
- Thank you.

That dirty mab!

- Oh, no! I'm sorry.
- Allow me!

- Thank you kindly, sir.
- It's my pleasure.

I hope you won't find me rude if I
speak. I don't want to appear forward.

Well, sir, that depends
on what you say.

Would you call me reckless

if I said that you were
the prettiest girl in New York?

Only New York?

This is my stop.

May I walk with you a little, then?

That, sir, would be too bold.

Good morning.

For every lay,
we had a different name.

An angler put a hook
on the end of a stick

to drop behind store windows
and doors.

An autumn diver
picked your pocket in church.

A badger gets a fellow
into bed with a girl,

then robs his pockets
while they're on the go.

Jenny was a bludget,
a girl pickpocket.

And a turtledove.

A turtledove goes uptown
dressed like a housemaid,

picks out a fine house,
and goes right through the back door.

Robs you blind.

It takes a lot of sand to be a turtledove.

I'll have my medal back.

Oh, Jesus.

Don't do that again.
I said, don't do that!

Go back to the Points,
and leave me to my business

or I will open your throat,
so help me God.

All right.

Go on, then.

I would.

Go on, then.

Now, give me back my medal.
Make it quick.

I don't know which one's yours.

Suppose I help myself
to everything, huh?

Suppose you do.

Might I walk with you a little, then?

What do you suppose
a fellow could earn up here in a day?

Maybe we could pile in together?

Oh, I think you're a bit rough
for this sort of game.

- Besides, I work alone.
- Alone?

- What do you quarter to the Butcher?
- Me? Nothing.

Nothing?

The Butcher and me
have a special arrangement.

- I don't want to see you again!
- Well, I don't blame you.

Pennies in their pockets
and hope in their eyes.

They peer to the West,

searching the horizon
for a glimpse of land and salvation.

A glimpse of America.

Seeing all this poverty

must be most unsettling,
Miss Schermerhorn.

Some days, of course,
the uptown gangs come down to us.

The Schermerhorns is one
of the oldest families in New York.

They didn't run the city,

but they was listened to quite carefully
by them that did.

Commissioner Brunt said
you wished to view the Points

in all its splendor and squalor.

"Spare nothing
concerning the conditions," said he.

Yeah, nothing
except our safety, Constable.

I'm sure we can be in no danger

while we're in the constable's
company, my dear.

Quite so, madam. Witness.

- Shall we continue on?
- You dare to leave it there?

Safe as a bank, Mr. Greeley,
since all know it's mine.

Is that man drunk?

Dead as Good Friday, miss.

Good day to you, Mulraney.

- Boys?
- Jack.

Slum sociable?

Fact-finding. Reform-studying.
May I present...

The Schermerhorns of Fifth Avenue

scarcely require
an introduction from you, Jack.

Mr. and Mrs. Schermerhorn, indeed,
and their daughter.

- This gentleman, of course, is...
- Mr. Horace Greeley.

The famous publisher.
A pleasure and an honor, sir.

- Of The Tribune.
- I am William Cutting.

How do you do, Mr. Cutting?

As of this moment, extremely well,
thank you. How do you do?

Orange blossom. Delicious!

- Mr. Cutting is...
- What a peach!

She could have a fine career
on the stage.

- One of Five Points' local leaders.
- Pleasure to meet you, sir.

- Mr. Greeley.
- Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cutting.

Five Points welcomes you.

You are welcome to these streets,
and will pass in safety.

Oh, I'll see to their safety.
Thank you, Bill.

Here we are. Good day, lads.

- Criminals' braggadocio, you see.
- He knows who I am!

Oh, indeed, sir.
You're well-known in these parts.

I must say that I find that
strangely flattering.

- Never did like crushers.
- Well, draw it mild, son.

Happy Jack don't fill his lungs
without I tell him he may do so.

Do you think my watch would be safe
up on that lamppost, Bill?

Why don't you hang it up there
and see?

Someday.

Someday is right.

This a new lad?

Just another bastard son of Erin
I folded in the warmth of my embrace.

- Hey!
- Just want to see your face, son.

No harm intended.

You get to know a lot,
butchering meat.

We're made up of the same things.
Flesh and blood. Tissue. Organs.

I love to work with pigs.

The nearest thing in nature
to the flesh of a man

is the flesh of a pig.

- Pig, huh?
- That's right.

This is for you, Mother.

Here you go.

- God bless you, Mr. Cutting.
- God bless you.

- She ain't really my mother.
- I knew that, Bill.

This is the liver.

The kidneys. The heart.

This is a wound.
The stomach will bleed and bleed.

This is a kill. This is a kill.

Main artery. This is a kill.

You try.

Go ahead.

Lung, good.
Don't foul the blade on the rib.

Very good. Main artery.

Bleed him slow.
Let him think about it for awhile.

Slow death. Good.

You will each bill the city
$5,000 a month

for supplies and services,
of which you will receive 10%.

Bill!

Mr. Killoran will work out the details.
Thank you, gentlemen.

That's how we do things
around Tammany, gentlemen.

Who's this, then?

- Thank you, boys.
- Good day, sir.

You got something on your mind?

Bill's taken quite a liking to you.

Now if you're up to something, bene.

Only I don't want no part in it.

I was in Hellgate for 16 years.

I'm just trying to make my way,
is all, just like you.

Unless, of course,
you got a better notion?

No.

Bill, I can't get a day's work done

for all the good citizens coming in here
to harass me about crime in the Points.

Some even go so far
as to accuse Tammany of connivance

in this so-called "rampant criminality."

What am I to do? I can't have this.
Something has to be done.

- What do you have in mind?
- I don't know.

I think maybe
we should hang someone.

- Who?
- No one important, necessarily.

Average men will do.

Back-alley amusers with no affiliations.

- How many?
- Three or four.

- Which?
- Four.

You stand here convicted varyingly

of lewdness, jackrolling,
sneak thievery,

chloral hydrating, sodomy,

strangulation and enthusiastic
corruption of the public good.

We all go someday, right?

Chin up.
Handsome bunch of gallows fruit.

There's my old friend.
How are you feeling, Arthur?

I'm okay. I'm okay, you know.

Oh, say hello to Amsterdam.

Nearly fishhooked McGloin
the other day.

- How do you do?
- Nearly!

I see you dressed
for the occasion, Arthur.

You know me, Bill.
Always like to look me best, you know.

That's the spirit.

It's a nice locket.
I'll give you a dollar for it.

- It's me mother's.
- Dollar and a half?

Done.

We'll miss you, Arthur.
See you in the heart country, Seamus.

Is my son present here?

Where's my little fellow?

Look at your da.

Farewell, dear boy.

I never struck a foul blow
nor turned a card.

May God greet me as a friend!

That night the reformers held a dance.

That was the Five Points, all right,

hangings of a morning,
dancings of an evening.

Not sure, meself, but...

It's not a matter of words,
I can tell by the way she smiles at me.

- She smiles at a lot of people, John.
- Sir!

You don't know her.

A penny of gratitude
for a fighting Irishman, young sir?

- You from Kerry?
- I am, sir. I am.

- It ain't much.
- Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are delighted
to see so many young faces

at our first annual Mission dance.

This will be a real balum rancum, eh?

The Mission welcomes
Christians of every stamp,

and we are particularly happy
to greet our Roman Catholic friends,

who join us here tonight.

Ladies, come with me. Come with me.

We're going to start the dancing
in just a moment.

- Good evening, Reverend.
- Good evening, Your Holiness.

Good evening, Reverend.

It looks as though
you should have shaved closer.

Good evening, Reverend.
I do beg your pardon.

Miss...

Uh...

- Everdeane.
- Miss Everdeane.

Now, gentlemen, over here,
if you don't mind.

Thank you. Open it. Hold it up.

Into the mirror.

That one!

Our queen has chosen.

Sir, your lady!

Right.

Regular services are held at the church
at 6:00 and 8:00.

Go to hell.

- What do you think you're doing?
- I'm dancing.

- I said why'd you pick me?
- That's none of your business.

Would you mind telling me?

Sorry.

God damn it.

Sorry.

- I'm not much of a dancer.
- Just try to keep calm.

I ain't never been
to a stepping ken before!

It's best not to look down.

You can hold me tighter if you'd like.

- All right?
- Aye.

So why didn't you dance with Johnny?

Because

I didn't want him.

I'm not wanting this.

- Wait. Wait.
- What?

How does this open?

It takes too long to lace back up.
We'll be here all night.

Sure. All right. I'll take it off.

There was a baby. They cut it out.

Sorry.

It's fine.

Have you got any scars?

One or two.

- What's that, then?
- That?

It's a gift from Mr. Cutting.

A gift?

A gift.

- Was it your birthday?
- No.

What'd you give him, then?

The answer to that
has nothing to do with you.

Don't tell me you're angry with me?

No. I'm through with you.

Well, you're quicker than most fellows.
Generally they wait till afterwards!

Well, I ain't interested
in the Butcher's leavings.

Listen! Keep clear of the pikers,
15 to one, Bug-Eye Moran.

Amsterdam!

Everyone was working for the Butcher.

We ran his errands, made his money,

took a piece
and said, "Thank you, sir."

Gentlemen, it's a raid.

Even Tweed.

The fight's over!

Even me.

My father's son.

- What the hell is this?
- Sorry, Bill.

The city ordinance against boxiana's
a blight, I grant you.

But some appearance of order...

I'm losing revenue while you speechify.

Get out there and collect those bets.

How do I collect
if no one won the fight?

This counts as a "no decision."
You've got that covered, right?

Didn't anybody pay off
the goddamn police?

We paid the Municipal Police.
This is the Metropolitan Police.

- You are going to repay me every cent.
- Mr. Tweed.

- Who asked for your opinion?
- Let him speak!

We don't answer to you.

The law says that there's no boxing
in the city, is that right?

- That's right, in the city.
- Well, where does the city end?

The winner,
in the 75th round...

Allow me to acknowledge the man
whose vision and enterprise

made possible
the staging of this noble combat

in these awe-inspiring
and entirely legal surroundings,

Mr. William Cutting!

And... And his young associate.

That's you, boy.

Come on. Get in there.

You done very well.
How do you like them apples?

We done good. We done all right.

And while I have
your kind attention...

It was a good show.

May I remind you
of the further wonders that await you

at my museum, located on Broadway.

P.T. Barnum's Gallery of Wonders!

That's my money.

Get your hands
out of me pockets.

It's a funny feeling,
being took under the wing of a dragon.

It's warmer than you think.

That's the building of our country
right there, Mr. Cutting.

Americans aborning.

I don't see no Americans.
I see trespassers.

Irish harps will do a job for a nickel
what a nigger does for a dime,

and a white man
used to get a quarter for.

What have they done?
Name one thing they've contributed!

- Votes!
- Votes, you say?

They vote how the Archbishop tells
them, and who tells the Archbishop?

Their king in the pointy hat
what sits on his throne in Rome.

Bill's got mixed feelings
as regards the Irish.

Bill, deliver these good and fervent folk
to the polls on a regular basis,

and there will be a handsome price for
each vote that goes Tammany's way.

My father gave his life
making this country what it is.

Murdered by the British with
all of his men on the 25th of July,

anno Domini 1814.

You think I'm gonna help you
befoul his legacy?

By giving this country over to them

what's had no hand
in the fighting for it?

Why? Because they come off a boat
crawling with lice

and begging you for soup?

You're a great one for the fighting, Bill,
I know, but you can't fight forever.

- I can go down doing it.
- And you will.

What did you say?

I said you're turning your back
on the future.

Not our future.

That document makes you a citizen,

this one makes you a private
in the Union army.

Now go fight for your country.

Next.

Well, meself and a hundred more

Sign here, son, or make your mark.

To America sailed o'er

Our fortunes to be made
we were thinkin'

When we got to Yankee land
They shoved a gun into our hands

Saying, "Paddy, you must go
and fight for Lincoln"

There's your musket.
Make sure you keep it dry on the boat.

Same for the cartridge case.

- Where we going?
- I heard Tennessee.

Where's that?

There is nothing here but war
Where the murdering cannons roar

And I wish I was at home
in dear old Dublin

Do they feed us now,
do you think?

My children, my children.

We must heal the divisions between us!

This war must cease.

North and South must stand united.

What happens at the finish, then?

Then we have ourselves a rowdydow!

Ain't you never been
to the theater before?

No.

Mr. Legree, lay down your whip.

Miss Eliza, join hands with Mr. Shelby.

And Topsy, dear little Topsy.
Cradle Uncle Tom's head.

Leave the nigger dead.

Get me down!

Down with the Union!

- Down with the Union!
- Down with the Union!

- For the blood of the Irish.
- Bill, get down!

Somebody's popped the Butcher!

Stifle that rat bastard down!

God forgive me.

Whose man are you?
Speak smart and speak up!

What's he saying, boy?

I think he's making his peace with God.

To hell with that!
He makes his peace with me.

I'm hearing confession tonight,
you motherwhoring Irish nigger!

Whose man are you?

We speak English in this country.
Whose man are you?

You see this knife?

I'm gonna teach you to speak English
with this fucking knife!

Whose man are you?

Well, that didn't tell us very much.

Fine waistcoat.

Shame about it,
I don't think it can be mended!

Will I keep it as a souvenir?

Where's Legree? Where's Mopsy?

Tragedians, let's continue.
Intermission is over.

- Now that was bloody Shakespearean.
- What?

Do you know
who Shakespeare was, sonny?

He was the fellow
who wrote the King James Bible.

Mister, I don't know
what in the hell you're talking about.

Because you're a thick,
ignorant, barbarous Irish whelp!

Just like your father.

That's it! That's it!

Tear my head off
and destruct the world.

Just like the rest of the stupid Irish
in this country.

That's why I never ran with your dad.

Get off me, you crazy bastard!

It means, "If you're not strong,
you'd better be smart."

Now I don't know
if you're being too clever or too dumb.

But whichever it is,
just remember this much.

For all his faults, your father was a man
who loved his people.

Amsterdam. Amsterdam.
New York is calling you.

Look at that.
What in Christ's name is that?

Rhythms of the Dark Continent,

thrown into the kettle
with an Irish shindig.

Stir it around a few times,
pour it out as a fine American mess.

A jig doing a jig!

A little keepsake.

- Good on you, sir.
- Come upstairs with me, Bill.

Have I ever had you before?

So you don't call me
by my Christian name.

Bill! Thank God you're all right!

I heard the news
and came over as quick as I could.

Or as timely as the angel of death.

Bill, you're not suggesting that I
would stoop to what you're suggesting?

Stop slabbering.

If I thought it was you,
you would be in a wooden coat.

Now I got a hole in my shoulder
and it hurts,

so have a drink and shut up,
or shut up and get out.

I believe I'll have a drink.

Careful, Tweedy,
the mort's Frenchified!

No, no! I'm clean. Come on.
Let's go to the bar.

- Jenny.
- Bill.

Let's wrap you up.

It's gotta be tight.

Loves to make me cry.

You can take it!

There's my boy.

It's all right. It's all right.

To the Butcher!

We're all much obliged.

Forever.

- To the Butcher!
- To the Butcher!

Why don't you get out of here, Johnny?

Go on. Go!

Is there anyone in the Five Points
you haven't fucked?

Yes! You!

Bow down!

Try it and I'll bite you.

If you were gonna bite me,

- I don't think you'd warn me, huh?
- Find out!

Oh, Jenny. Oh, Jenny.

I can't sleep.

I... Hope you don't mind us
laying out tonight here, sir?

Whatever takes your fancy,
my young friend.

Is it your shoulder
that's keeping you up?

No, I don't never sleep too much.

I have to sleep with one eye open.
I only got one eye, right?

How old are you, Amsterdam?

I'm not too sure. Never did figure it.

I'm 47.

Forty-seven years old.

You know how I stayed alive this long?
All these years?

Fear.

The spectacle of fearsome acts.

If somebody steals from me,
I cut off his hands.

He offends me, I cut out his tongue.

He rises against me,
I cut off his head, stick it on a pike.

Raise it high up,
so all in the streets can see.

That's what
preserves the order of things.

Fear.

That one tonight. Who was he?

A nobody.

A coward.

What an ignominious end
that would have been.

I killed the last honorable man
15 years ago. Since then...

You've seen his portrait downstairs?

Mmm-hmm.

Is your mouth all glued up
with cunny juice?

- I asked you a question.
- I said I seen it, sir.

Oh, you got a murderous rage
in you, and I like it.

It's life, boiling up inside of you.
It's good.

The Priest and me,
we lived by the same principles.

It was only faith divided us.

He gave me this, you know?

That was the finest beating I ever took.

My face was pulp.

My guts was pierced,
my ribs was all mashed up.

And when he came to finish me,

I couldn't look him in the eye.

He spared me, because he wanted me
to live in shame.

This was a great man.

A great man.

So I cut out the eye that looked away,

I sent it to him wrapped in blue paper.

I would've cut them both out
if I could have fought him blind.

And I rose back up again
with a full heart,

and buried him in his own blood.

Well done.

He was the only man
I ever killed worth remembering.

I never had a son.

Civilization is crumbling.

God bless you.

If you got anything to say,

then now is the time to say it.

Who is he to you, Jenny?

I was 12 years old.

My mother was dead.
I was living in a doorway.

He took me in.

Took care of me...

In his own way.

After they cut out the baby...

He doesn't fancy girls that scarred up.

You should know, in your own mind,

that he never laid a hand on me
until I asked him to.

Who are you?

Gentlemen, fine gentlemen,

you are most welcome to this palace
of wonder and enchantment.

Where visions to rival the finest
imaginings of Scheherazade,

and the tales of the perfumed
Nights of Arabia

will greet your burnished eyes!

What am I bid
for this flaxen-haired, Teutonic beauty?

Feast your eyes on the magnificent
plumage of these exotic creatures.

Gentlemen,
you've seen our caged birds.

Well,
how'd you like to make them sing?

Let me see the color of your money,

and they could be singing for you.

No!

No! No!

May God put the steel
of the Holy Spirit in my spine,

and the love of the Blessed Virgin
in my heart.

Amen.

Easy, now.

- What did you say?
- He's not who he says he is.

He's not who he says he is?

Count your blessings
he considers you a friend!

The only thing he considers, Bill,

every day and every night,
is how best to kill you.

You got a loose tongue
in that head of yours.

You want me to take it out for you?

I'll bury it right up your fundament,
where it belongs!

I can read right through you!
You're empty!

His name is Vallon!

Don't do it, Bill! His name is Vallon!

They're curious people,
these Celestials.

You know why he wears short sleeves?

- No. Why?
- Because everyone can see

he's got nothing stashed.

Jesus, let's hope
that never becomes the fashion.

Johnny?

Get up.

Ladies and gentlemen,
if I may have your kind attention.

As some of you have surely noticed,

our friend and benefactor,
Mr. William Cutting,

is tonight wearing a waistcoat
of certain distinction!

Might we...

Might we tonight appeal to him

to favor us
with another exciting exhibition

of skill,

courage,

daring and drama!

Bill's going up.

The Spider's Kiss!

- River of Blood!
- The Tomahawk!

The Morning Glory!

The Wheel of Death!

- William Tell!
- The Butterfly!

- The Tomahawk!
- Spider's Kiss!

The Butcher's Apprentice!

- The Butcher's Apprentice!
- Command performance!

- Command performance!
- A command performance!

Where have you been?

A command performance indeed.

I want you to get out of here,
do you understand?

And for this, I must beg the indulgence

of my former assistant
in matters of impalement,

the Butcher's original apprentice.

What do you say, Jen?
One more time for the sweet souvenir.

Come on!

Don't do it!

Good girl, Jenny!

Don't be afraid.

- What a woman.
- Yeah, Jenny.

Good evening, Bill.

She'll be all right.

- Remember this?
- Of course.

You may feel more comfortable
without that garment, Miss Everdeane!

You'll have to filch me a new one, Bill!

Anything in your pockets tonight?

Oh, I ain't started working yet.

What about that locket that I gave you?

Apologies, my dear. Pick it up.

Whoopsie-daisy!

Now it's good and broke!

I can't seem to get
anything right tonight.

You got the sand
to give them a grand finale?

Maybe when you're aiming
a little straighter.

Want some poverty, Jen?

Enough of this heathen music.

Get rid of these goddamn monkeys.

Strike up, boys!

This is a night for Americans!

- Jenny!
- Get your hands off!

Amsterdam!

Hats off!

We hold in our hearts
the memory of our fallen brothers,

whose blood
stains the very streets we walk today.

Also on this night,

we pay tribute
to the leader of our enemies.

An honorable man
who crossed over bravely,

fighting for what he believed in.

To defeat my enemy
I extinguish his life,

and consume him
as I consume these flames.

In honor of Priest Vallon.

All grieve Priest Vallon!

That's a wound!

I want youse all to meet
the son of Priest Vallon.

I took him under my wing,

and see how I'm repaid?

- You bastard!
- Saves my life one day

so he can kill me the next,
like a sneak thief.

Instead of fighting like a man.

A base defiler,

unworthy of a noble name.

Oh, Jesus.

Why, that'll do, McGloin.
Splay him out.

This show ain't for blackies.

You, you get to watch.

Don't you hear, nigger?

This is fresh meat.

What I mean... We need to
tenderize this meat a little bit.

All right, let's kiss goodnight
to that pretty, young face of yours.

No!

What'll it be, then?
Rib or chop? Loin or shank?

- The liver!
- The spleen!

- The tongue!
- The kidney!

- The lungs!
- The liver!

- His legs!
- The tongue!

- The kidneys!
- The stomach!

- The heart! The heart!
- The heart?

- This boy has no heart.
- Then kill him!

- Kill him!
- Kill him!

Jenny, please.

He ain't earned a death.
He ain't earned a death at my hands.

No.

He'll walk amongst you,
marked with shame.

A freak, worthy of
Barnum's Museum of Wonders.

God's only man spared by the Butcher.

No!

No! No! No! No!

Here.

This way. Come on. Come on.

I want to show you something.

My mother's bones share this grave.

I've saved 10 cents out of every dollar
I've ever earned since I was 13.

That's $215.

For bludgeting, and the rest.

This is what I wanted to show you.

This is where we're going to go,
as soon as you get well.

San Francisco, California.

You can have anything you want
out there.

These men are pulling gold
right out of the river.

With their own hands.

We're here. We need to get there.

We start here,

go down 'round here,

up into San Francisco.

The shortest way to go.

Would you go with me?

No need to fire that, miss.
Or even aim it.

An audience with your mangled friend
is all I want.

I got 44 notches on my club.

Do you know what they're for?

To remind me of what I owe God
when I die.

My father was killed in battle, too.

In Ireland, in the streets.

Fighting those who would take
as their privilege

what could only be got and held
by the decimation of a race.

That war is a thousand years old
and more.

We never expected it to follow us here.

It didn't.

It was waiting for us when we landed.

Your father tried to carve out a corner
in this country for his tribe.

That was him.
That was his Dead Rabbits.

I often wondered,
if he'd lived a bit longer,

would he have wanted a bit more?

Why'd you rifle through
his pockets, then?

For safekeeping.

I thought maybe you could do with it.

Blood stays on the blade.

That's a sorry-looking pelt.

And it's been so nice and quiet
for the last three months.

Tell me, this charge,
does it sit uneasy with you?

No, it's...

Not uneasy, Bill.

No, I wouldn't say that.

But, my allegiance is to the law.

I'm paid to uphold the law.

What in heaven's name
are you talking about?

You may have misgivings,
but don't go believing that, Jack.

That way lies damnation.

I'm in no danger of damnation, Bill.

Here's the thing.

I don't give a tuppenny fuck
about your moral conundrum,

you meat-headed shitsack.

That's more or less the thing.

And I want you to go out there. You.
Nobody else.

None of your little minions.
I want you to go out there,

and I want you

to punish

the person

who's responsible

for murdering this poor little rabbit.

Is that understood?

Right.

Help yourself to some decent meat
on the way out.

Damn it.

Is that you, boy?

I didn't mean nothing
by that shot, you know.

You scared me, is all.

Sure, you know, I'd never do you harm.

Come out, now, lad.

Remember your father and me?

Are you too young to remember
your old Uncle Jack?

Oh, the times we had.

You know I won't hurt you.

Is he dead?

Matthew, come see, quick.
Everybody, quick.

This is bad for everybody.
What's next, dead politicians?

I could spare half a dozen of you
easier than I can spare him.

Still, I think it shows dash.

Give the boy some time,
we'll settle with a good dustup.

The lads here.

Well, there's more of us
coming off these ships every day.

I heard 15,000 Irish a week.

And we're afraid of the Natives.

Get all of us together,
and we ain't got a gang.

We got an army.

And all you need's a spark, right?
Just one spark.

Something to wake us all up.

It was me
who played you false.

- I'd take it back if I could.
- Take it back?

Johnny, I gotta kill you.

Get out of the Points,
and don't come back.

Where are you going, boyo?

Come along. Come on.

Tell us, John, what's the trouble?

No trouble, Bill.

Still hiding out with your friends?

No, I'm... I'm not with them, Bill.

I'm with you, I'm... With the Natives.

You always was a Native
as far as I'm interested, John.

Till you became a stag.

You tell me you're a Native?
Do you want to know what a Native is?

A Native is a man

what's willing to give his life
for his country.

Like my father done.

Are you willing to do that,
my young friend?

John? Johnny?

Johnny?

I'll get you...

It hurts too much.

Just kill me.

Just kill me.

Please. Please. Please.

Please. Please.

Please.

I'm sorry, Johnny.

McGLOIN: Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now

and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Rest in peace, Ma.

What are you doing here, boyo?

What's that nigger
doing in this church?

What's a Dead Rabbit
doing with the Natives, huh?

There's no niggers among the Natives.
Niggers and robbers is one thing,

but a nigger in the church,

- that's something else.
- You run with the Natives,

you go pray with the Natives.

You're going to wind up on a stake,
like your man did.

McGloin?

Father. Jesus. Did you know
there's a nigger in your church?

Jesus.

The Earth turns,

but we don't feel it move.

And one night you look up.

One spark,

and the sky's on fire.

It's a touching spectacle.

We'll come back
when you're ready for us.

The past is the torch
that lights our way.

Where our fathers
have shown us the path,

we shall follow.

Our faith is the weapon
most feared by our enemies.

For thereby shall we lift our people up

against those who would destroy us.

Our name is called the Dead Rabbits,

to remind all of our suffering,

and as a call to those who suffer still
to join our ranks,

however so far they may have strayed

from our common home
across the sea.

For with great numbers
must come great strength,

and the salvation of our people.

We don't want your business.

How many other men live here?

You all have to register.

- You can't force me to join no army.
- Have you got $300?

Of course not.
Who the hell's got $300?

If you are drafted,
release from military service

can only be secured for $300,
according to the Conscription Act.

- $300?
- Otherwise, you have to serve.

- Who the hell's got $300, eh?
- You have to serve, sir.

- You tell me.
- Unless you have $300...

- Boys!
- Go back to where you came from,

- you bastard!
- I am born in this country, sir.

You immigrated here.
You will fight for this country, sir.

Sweet Jesus, war
does terrible things to men.

Get back uptown,
where you belong.

Three hundred dollars?
So it's another rich man's war.

We'll be back for all of you.

Sir, I request an audience
with this man.

Does no one speak English
in New York anymore?

- I don't understand.
- Oh, you do speak English?

I wonder if Miss Everdeane could
angle her rifle in some other direction?

I wonder, Mr. Vallon,

if you understand the true value
of this sort of publicity?

The Archbishop himself,

shoulder to shoulder with half the Irish
in the Five Points.

I'm offering, my boy,
to form an alliance with you,

against Bill Cutting
and his slate of Nativist candidates.

I'll negotiate a handsome fee
for every Irish vote

you send Tammany's way
in the coming elections.

I need a new friend
in the Five Points, son.

I'd like that friend to be you.

Well, now, just a moment, Mr. Tweed.

Suppose we do get you those votes.

Would you back an Irish candidate
of my choosing?

- I don't think so.
- What if we get you all the Irish votes?

Mr. Vallon, that will only
happen in the reign of Queen Dick.

- Beg your pardon?
- That means it will never happen.

Now, I might be persuaded
to back an Irish candidate

- for, say, alderman.
- Alderman?

We've already got Irish aldermen.

So we have. That's why...

What's bigger than alderman?

Sheriff. Sheriff.

All right, Mr. Tweed,
you back an Irishman for sheriff

of the city and county of New York,
and we'll get him elected.

I love the Irish, son,
but higher than alderman

- you shall never climb.
- Why not?

For one thing, no man living
can consolidate the Irish vote.

- I can.
- And for another, I mean no effrontery...

No one's yet found an Irish candidate
for sheriff worth voting for.

Monk.

Here.

Is that me, looking as sober
as me own grandfather?

Another great man, I'm sure.

Retarded drunken bastard.

Could I say what I want?

That's why I wanted you.

Our elected representatives
are a gang of thieves

who swear to better our lot

while dipping their hands
deep into our pockets.

I stand shoulder to shoulder

with community leaders like Bill Cutting

against any and all inroads
into our fine democracy.

I'll see to it that no one takes away

what you have earned
by pluck and application.

To invading hordes of Hibernians.

You go to the polls,
and you put your mark

next to the name Walter McGinn.

Against the potato eaters,
like them, over there,

thieving our jobs.

Why should so many Irish
die down South,

when the first war to win
is not down in Dixie,

but right here, in these streets?

And who's the finest street fighter
in the Five Points?

- Monk!
- Monk!

That's right.
Now let the whole damn city hear it!

That man was right born for this.

He's killed 44 men.
Laid low a couple hundred more.

- Is that right?
- That's right.

I should have run him for mayor.

All right, line them up. It's election day.

Come on, you. Come with me.

Okay, quiet.

Come on, you bastard,
we need your vote.

Bastard? I fought for you, nigger.
I lost an arm for you.

Well, that's a start. Now, come on.

Rise and shine, rise and shine.

In this great country of ours,
even the hop fiends get to vote.

Less art and more haste, darling.

- Where are you going?
- I already voted today.

Cast for Monk and Tammany, by God.

- Twice.
- Twice? Only twice?

You call that doing your civic duty?
Come with me.

Oh, no, you don't.
Get back and sit down.

Here's another one.
Clean him up good.

Shave their beards off, boys,
and send them back to vote again.

All right, boys, vote Monk/Tammany.

- Monk/Tammany.
- Monk/Tammany.

So, gentlemen, what our
great city needs is a new courthouse.

Now, I propose it should be
a modest, economical structure.

Excuse me one moment. What is it?

Monk's already won
by 3,000 more votes

than there are voters.

Only three? Make it 20, 30.

We don't need a victory,
we need a Roman triumph.

But we don't have any more ballots.

Remember the first rule of politics.

"The ballots don't make the results,
the counters make the results."

The counters. Keep counting.

It's from Bill.

Monk?

Citizens of the Five Points.

Mr. Bill Cutting is attempting
to draw me into an argument

that would no doubt end in bloodshed
and the compromising of my office.

What do you think?

Should I engage, and silence
this relic of the ancient law?

Or shall I be your chosen voice,

in a new testament, in the New World?

There you are, Bill.

The people have spoken.

The very notion of violent reprisal
benumbs them.

Come on up.

Let's see if we can resolve
our grievances the democratic way.

That, my friends, is the minority vote.

Now you tasted my mutton,
how do you like it, huh?

Look, I want you to see this.

This is you, right here.

Notch 45, you Irish bog bastard.

Why don't you burn him,
see if his ashes turn green?

Fortune favors the bold.

You killed an elected official?

Who elected him?

You don't know
what you've done to yourself.

"I know your works.

"You're neither cold nor hot.

"So because you are lukewarm,
I will spew you out of my mouth."

You can build your filthy world
without me.

I took the father, now I'll take the son.

You tell young Vallon

I'm going to paint Paradise Square
with his blood.

Two coats.

I'll festoon my bedchamber
with his guts.

As for you, Mr. Tammany fucking Hall,

you come down to the Points again,

and you'll be dispatched
by mine own hand.

Now get back to your celebration
and let me eat in peace.

I paid you fair.

Stop.

Raise.

You son of a bitch.

Challenge.

Challenge accepted.

And then it came.

- The first day of the draft.
- Thomas O'Neill.

Andrew Lewis. Joseph Flynn.

They read out
the draftees' names

like they was dead already.

J.B. Cleason.

- The O'Connell Guard.
- The Plug Uglies.

- As for us...
- The Forty Thieves.

The tribes were gathered.

- The Kerryonians.
- The Chichesters.

The drums was beating.

Dead Rabbits.

- The American Guard.
- The Atlantic Guard.

- The Slaughter Housers.
- The Bowery Boys.

Confederation of American Natives.

James Mooney.

But all we could see
was the hand in front of us.

Sean O'Connell.

G.W. Morris. John Doyle.

- When?
- Whenever you like.

- Daybreak tomorrow.
- Ground?

- Paradise Square.
- Weapons?

That I leave up to you.

Bricks, bats, axes, knives...

Pistols?

No pistols.

Good boy.

Terms are resolved.
Council is concluded.

Thomas McEvoy. W.H. Miles.

- To hell with your damned draft!
- Give them hellfire, boys!

Rip them apart!

Kill the rich bastards!

Uptown!

They're not getting my son!

Uptown at the draft office,

the cops broke a few skulls,

and everybody run away.

But the word was spreading

in the dark.

Up on Fifth Avenue,

the Schermerhorns and their mob
breathed a little easy.

Just a brief burst of anger
over Mr. Lincoln's draft.

Entirely justifiable in my view.

Well, there are two sides
to that question.

There are several sides to the
question, in fact, Mr. Schermerhorn,

but only one right side,

as with any question
that involves the abuse

- of executive power.
- In any case, Mr. Greeley,

we can all be thankful
that it wasn't any worse.

It may be worse yet, sir.

I saw them. I don't know what to think.

Now, what is it that you are
so fond of saying, Mr. Tweed?

And... Mr. Greeley, you won't like this.
But what is it?

I don't remember.

You can always hire one half
of the poor to kill the other half.

I come to say goodbye.

I've booked passage for California.

Jenny, give me one more day
and I'll go with you.

You'll be dead by then.

- Well, what would you have me do?
- I don't know.

- This will all be finished tomorrow.
- No, it won't.

This whole place
is gonna burn, anyway.

I've heard that the poor
are going from door to door

in the Five Points,
asking those supporters

who wish to see further riots

to place a lighted candle in the window.

Irish, Poles, Germans, all of them.

Mr. Greeley, the city is not mad.

I prophesy a very dark night.

Nobody goes to work today.
We'll shut the factories down!

When the sun rose
next, the city had split in half.

From all over New York, they came.

Ironworkers, factory boys,
street cleaners.

Irish, Polish, German,

anyone who never cared
about slavery or the Union,

anyone who couldn't buy his way out.

"Let the sons of the rich
go and die," they cried.

"Let the sons of the poor stay home."

The earth was shaking now.

But I was about my father's business.

Oh, mighty Lord,
you are the dagger in my hand.

Guide my hand
on this day of vengeance.

We give thanks
to the Lord, for he is good.

With you, the swift cannot flee
nor the strong escape.

Let my sword devour,
till its thirst is quenched with blood,

and my enemy sleep forever.

For you are the Lord God of retribution.

For the Lord crushes the wicked.

For the Lord is merciful.

And his love endures forever.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Amen.

- You sons of bitches!
- Come on out!

- Upstairs.
- Father!

- Get the women upstairs.
- Father!

Let's take them hostage!

From 18th Precinct.

The mob are sacking houses,
27th Street and Seventh Avenue.

We have no force to send.

From 16th Precinct.

All the stores
are closing on Eighth Avenue

from fear of the mob in 17th Street.

From 4th. The rioters
are attacking colored boarding houses,

robbing them, and setting them on fire.

From 21st. The mob

have just broken open a gun store
on Third Avenue,

and are arming.

The Marshal's Office on Third Avenue
is burning down.

The police is of no avail.

Show yourself, Tweed.

Two colored men
brought in, almost dead.

There are 50 more Negroes outside
who need help.

The blacks are being attacked
all over the city.

- Hey! There's a $300 man.
- Get him!

Did your daddy
buy you out of the army?

Can he buy me out of the army, too?

There is danger of mob
attacking the armory,

corner of 21st Street, Second Avenue.

There's about 500 stand of arms in it.

The line is dead.
They're trying to cut all the wires!

From 1st. Riot at Pier 4, North River.

They have killed Negroes there.

A crowd is here,
and are going to destroy this station.

Get her bag. Get her bag.

From 18th Precinct.

The mob have attacked the armory.
Second Avenue, 21st Street.

There is danger of fire in the building.

All 300 police wounded
or unaccounted for. Find the military...

From 20th.

Send 100 men to disperse mob
assailing Mayor Opdyke's house.

Building corner 33rd Street,
Second Avenue,

set on fire by the mob.

Barnum's American Museum on fire.

Animals are escaping.

Let go.

Gunboat Liberty
and Ironclad Passaic

now lying off the foot of Wall Street.

They are ready
to open fire on the mob.

Lynch mob,
now going down Fifth Avenue

to attack Tribune office.

From 16th. Mob is coming down

to station house. We have no men.

From 18th.
The mob is very wild.

From 16th.
The 7th Regiment has arrived.

At the foot of Canal Street.

They're on their way to Broadway.

Take your hands off me.

The mob is about 4,500 strong.

They're going to
burn down Harlem Bridge.

Harlem Bridge is to be torched.

The rats have taken over the city.

From 21st.

There's an attack on
the colored people in Second Avenue...

There's a mob headed for
the Colored Orphan Asylum.

- Send troops to protect the children.
- The riot is now

on Seventh Avenue, 28th Street.

- They have just killed a Negro.
- There's a nigger, get him. Get him!

Sir, the Major General wants to know
what to do with any prisoners captured.

Prisoners? Don't take any.
The mob isn't taking prisoners.

Put the mob down.
Don't take a prisoner in

until you've put the mob down.

Soldiers now on
38th Street. The mob will not disperse.

What are your orders?
What are your orders?

Here they come.

Steady now, steady.

- Let's stick together. Come.
- All right.

Troop, halt!

Present arms.

On your order, Vallon.

Hold fast, there.
Hold fast, there.

I order you to disperse.

Fire!

Fire!

Fire!

Drive them into the Square.

Bill!

Fire.

Bill!

Fire!

- Bastards!
- Shang! Shang! Hold on.

Thank God.

I die a true American.

Tomorrow morning,
get our people down to the docks.

I want every man and woman
coming off the boats

given hot soup and bread.

We're burying a lot of votes
down here tonight.

In the end,
they put candles on the bodies,

so's their friends, if they had any,

could know them in the dark.

The City did this free of charge.

Shang, Jimmy Spoils,
Hell-Cat, McGloin and more.

Friend or foe,
it didn't make no difference now.

It was four days and nights
before the worst of the mob

was finally put down.

We never knew how many
New Yorkers died that week,

before the city was finally delivered.

My father told me we was all born
of blood and tribulation.

And so then, too, was our great city.

But for those of us what lived
and died in them furious days,

it was like everything we knew
was mightily swept away.

And no matter what they did
to build this city up again,

for the rest of time,

it would be like no one even knew
we was ever here.