Gangs of New York Page #16

Bill approaches his table, acknowledging the continuing adulation, and is

about to sit down when a VOICE rises above all others.

AMSTERDAM:

Mr. Poole!

Bill turns, searching out the voice ...

AMSTERDAM:

Bill Poole!

And SEES Amsterdam, standing at his own table. His attitude is calm,

smiling, respectful. But his eyes are demonic.

AMSTERDAM:

My compliments on your exhibition, sir.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Thank you, sir.

AMSTERDAM:

It was like watching a dance.

(Bill nods his thanks)

Some great grand goddamned dance. (Bill looks at him more closely)

You know me, sir.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Do I? Are you missing a finger?

Appreciative laughter from the crowd.

AMSTERDAM:

No. A father.

The laughter turns a little uneasy. Bill the Butcher sizes up the younger

man.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Do you have a name?

AMSTERDAM:

Amsterdam.

BILL THE BUTCHER

That's a New York name.

(suddenly smiles)

shall we drink to it?

AMSTERDAM:

Indeed.

(they drink)

And to my other name. Vallon. Will you drink to that?

BILL THE BUTCHER

Priest Vallon's son?

(Amsterdam nods)

Of course I'll drink to that. Your father was a worthy man.

AMSTERDAM:

Not worthy of you. Those dogs ain't worthy of you. You ain't worth what

they feed on, and what they sh*t's too good for you.

DEAD QUIET. Absolute. Breathless. Only the Chinese Gamblers at their

fan-tan ignore this confrontation.

BILL THE BUTCHER

What do you want, boyo?

AMSTERDAM:

I got to give you something, Butcher. Something from my father.

Amsterdam PULLS OUT the piratels knife which Bill the Butcher used to kill

his father almost 12 years before.

BILL THE BUTCHER

You got the sand to draw a blade in front of me? You will make good sport.

Come ahead and give it here, you son of a b*tch.

And Amsterdam THROWS the knife, the bright blade FLASHING OUT of his hand

like lightning.

And just as quickly the Buitcher PICKS UP his table, sending glasses

flying and breaking, using it as a SHIELD...

... and the knife THUMPS into it dead center. The Butcher HEAVES the table

at Amsterdam...sending PATRONS yelling and SCATTERING.

Amsterdam LEAPS out of the way of the table, then RUNS AT Bill the

Butcher...

... who's already coming for him. As they CLASH and GRAPPLE with each

other...

... PATRONS all over the Pagoda crowd around for a good view of the action

and start to MAKE BETS on the outcome. The odds do not favor Amsterdam.

And neither does the fight. Amsterdam fights with real blood lust, but he

doesn't have the Butcher's skill, or experience, or dispassion. He breaks

the Butcher's CLINCH... HITS him once in the face... then a second time

... and then gets FLOORED by a well placed kick. The Crowd cheers.

And, on the second floor, Jenny and Johnny come out of the room. Still

arranging her clothes, Jenny looks over the gallery rail onto the floor

below, sees the fight... and starts to RUN down the stairs. Johnny WATCHES

her go ... looks at the fight again, for a second... then follows Jenny to

the main floor.

The Butcher is on top of Amsterdam now. He HITS him upside the head with

the wood and brass handle of his cleaver. Then hits him again. AND AGAIN.

In the Crowd now, Jenny finds Sheeny Mike.

JENNY:

The Butcher'll kill him if we don't do something.

SHEENY MIKE:

It was Amsterdam's own doing. And it'll be our death too if we try to stop

it.

JOHNNY:

(finally catching up)

That's the truth.

JENNY:

The truth is you don't give a damn about him.

SHEENY MIKE:

Yeah, well, if he gave a damn about us he wouldn't have called out the

Butcher in the first place.

Jenny looks at him with contempt, then STARTS into the crowd. Johnny grabs

her ARM but she pushes him off.

On the floor, Bill uses the FLAT SIDE of the cleaver to SMACK the barely

conscious Amsterdam on one side of his face... then on the other...

REPEATEDLY... until Amsterdam is barely sensible. Bill grabs him by the

hair. Amsterdam's body is slack.

BILL THE BUTCHER

What do you say? Loin or shank? Rib or chop?

The Crowd YELLS their choices. Jenny tries to PLUNGE through toward

Amsterdam, but a HALF-DOZEN MORTS and WHORES put hands on her and HOLD her

back.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Come on, let me hear you!

(the Crowd yells louder)

You're all talking at once, I can't hear you!

(a near frenzy)

I don't hear the choicest cut! The best, the vital!

(they quiet a little to listen)

The heart. I think I must have the heart!

This is greeted with the biggest CHEER of the night. The newlyelected

Mayor Wood seems to feel as if he should do something to stop the

slaughter, but Boss Tweed calms him with a single dismissive GESTURE. Even

the Boss himself is excited by the prospect of this ritual sacrifice.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Come on, look at it! You fancy yourself a gladiator, act a gladiator!

(raises his cleaver)

Watch the death blow when it comes to you. Go to hell with open eyes!

Bill the Butcher readies himself to deliver the blow... and a HAND GRABS

his wrist, STOPPING his arm.

Who would dare do this to Bill the Butcher? Bill turns, incredulous, to

look into...

... the untroubled face of Monk Eastman.

MONK EASTMAN:

It's been a full evening's fun now, Butcher. It's enough.

BILL THE BUTCHER

You got nothing to do with this, Monk.

MONK EASTMKN:

Well I'm the game warden, you might say. I'm telling you this buck's too

young yet. Wait till he's aged for a proper kill.

BILL THE BUTCHER

The hell.

With his gigantic strength, Monk actually PULLS the Butcher off Amsterdam

and onto his feet.

MONK EASTMKN:

Just settle yourself Bill ...

... and he part SHOVES, part THROWS Bill back a good twenty feet.

MONK EASTMKN:

... and let the merrymaking continue.

The Dead Rabbits have scampered forward, and they're picking Amsterdam up

off the floor. Monk looks at Jenny and Johnny, who each have Amsterdam by

an arm.

MONK EASTMAN:

It was his father took me in first, and it's thanks I'm returning now.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Eastman!

MONK EASTMAN:

(ignoring Bill)

This squares any debt. Get him out of here.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Monk Eastman!

As the Rabbits CARRY Amsterdam toward the door, Monk finally turns his

attention back to Bill.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I'll have you then!

MONK EASTMAN:

Come ahead, Bill. Unless you're wanting to shout me to death.

And Bill comes forward, BRANDISHING his cleaver. Monk Eastman stands his

ground, unmoving, untroubled. Everyone looks on in awe at this contest ...

... except Boss Tweed.

BOSS TWEED:

(to Killoran)

If these two are going to combat, it aught to be a worthier occasion. And

more rewarding for all.

Tweed SIGNALS to Bill: STOP. The Butcher sees the signal but can't believe

it. He SHAKES his head. His blood is up. He won't stop.

Tweed SIGNALS AGAIN. Bill KEEPS COMING.

Tweed signals Killoran, who STANDS himself. And, when he stands, every COP

and TAMMANY LOYALIST in the place--a hundred of them anyway--STAND behind

Boss Tweed.

As Bill keeps coming, and Monk stands easy, waiting...

... the Natives and their ALLIES now stand, facing the Tammany crew. The

Tammany backers, dressed flush and fancy, face the scruffier, more savage

Five Points bunch: the twin factions of the criminal underworld, so

different in style and so similar in purpose, SIZE EACH OTHER UP from

opposite sides of the room.

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