Gangs of New York Page #20
As the crowd falls back, Bill spots Amsterdam, Johnny and some of the
other Dead Rabbits, watching his every mave. He STOPS.
HOLDS OUT the bloody war club in front of him... straight in front of
him... POINTING IT right at Amsterdam.
BILL THE BUTCHER
I promise you, Amsterdam. I promise you.
Then he grins, turns away and walks through the crowd: prince of all he
surveys.
CUT TO:
74 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW
Boss Tweed reigns in the banquet room of a vast, gaslit restaurant, at a
long table overburdened with food. Seated along both sides of the table is
an array of the city's POWER BROKERS, with whom Tweed and his Tammany
MINIONS mix easily. Their attitude toward the Power Brokers is a mixture
of ribald fawning and fine condescension; the Power Brokers, in turn,
enjoy the food, and the MUSIC from a small BAND, and the DANCING GIRLS who
flirt and entertain them, while exuding the unmistakable impression of
amateur anthropologists exploring a decaying civilization.
Tweed is courting and joking with a bewhiskered HORACE GREELEY, editor of
the influential Tribune.
GREELEY:
I may enjoy the bounty of your table and the pleasures of your company,
Mr. Tweed ...
BOSS TWEED:
And the pleasures of the company provided you, Mr. Greeley.
GREELEY:
...without the Tribune endorsing your politics.
BOSS TWEED:
I suppose you can at that. Take with one hand, flay with the other.
Virtuels on your conscience, Horace, but Tammany's in your heart.
Killoran materializes at Tweed's side and whispers something quickly,
discreetly in his ear. Tweed EXCUSES himself, rises quickly and WALKS
across the restaurant floor...
... past the Band and the Dancing Giris ...
... to the swinging doors of the kitchen. As he pushes open the SWINGING
DOOR, his face has lost its humor.
CUT TO:
75 INT. KITCHEN/RESTAURANT/PARK ROW
A madhouse of activity. WAITERS in black suits, vests and serving outfits
STREAM by carrying huge TRAYS of food while the KITCHEN STAFF works
double-time to keep up with the unceasing volume.
As Boss Tweed walks in, Bill the Butcher PLUCKS a piece of roasted poultry
off a tray as it's carried out the door.
BILL THE BUTCHER
I'm not good enough for your table, so I eat where I can. (takes a big
bite)
It's good, what is it?
BOSS TWEED:
Pheasant.
BILL THE BUTCHER
Is that like pigeon? I killed a pigeon once but it didn't taste nothing
like this.
BOSS TWEED:
You killed a bull this morning. I told you to make an Arrangement with
him, and you come back with his blood on your hands.
BILL THE BUTCHER
(chewing his food)
He insulted me. He aggravated me. I couldn't stand for that, for no one.
BOSS TWEED:
You stand for anything if I tell you.
BILL THE BUTCHER
You think I should be afraid of you. You act like lightning strikes when
you talk.
As they talk, and the tension builds between them, the two men are
constantly BUFFETED by the swinging doors and the unending stream of
WAITERS.
BILL THE BUTCHER
I never was afraid of you, so don't think I was or act like I was, you
ain't earned it.
BOSS TWEED:
What did you earn us, killing Monk?
BILL THE BUTCHER
Where'd you earn the right to ask that question? You raised some dust in
the streets a while back, but no more. You got power but you ain't got
muscle and you ain't got a notion what it means to be a warrior.
BOSS TWEED:
I see it lost you a lot of God's sense, along with that eye.
BILL THE BUTCHER
You don't know nothing about that! It was my doing! It says in The Book,
"If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out." I followed that law with my own
knife and hand. The first I ever fought Priest Vallon, he bested me. And
when he came to bring me to death, I looked away and he watched me and he
let me go. The shame was worse than the killing. I would have cut out both
eyes if I could still have fought, but cutting just the one gave me heart.
When I killed Priest Vallon, that restored me. Now I sent Monk Eastman
over I got glory. I got all there is, and small thanks to you, squire.
BOSS TWEED:
(measured, conciliatory) You need two eyes to see the depth, Bill. That's
how we help each other. If it wasn't for me would be happy enough to
plunder the Points and put the fear into people who don't know nothing
else. But Bill, I'm only saying... I'm counselinm... look in the distance.
You want to sit at my table, fine. But you must always remember who the
host is. It's not a matter of courage welre talking. It's manners.
Bill grabs another piece of food from a tray.
BILL THE BUTCHER
Howls these manners?
BOSS TWEED:
Fine, if you're hungry.
BILL THE BUTCHER
I'm always hungry.
BOSS TWEED:
I've always told you, Bill. There's plenty for all, and more for us
together than separate. We'll dine together sometime.
Bill the Butcher nods, appeased, and leaves, swaggering his way through
the kitchen chaos, making everyone get out of his way. Boss Tweed watches
him go, his expression changing from bemused appeasement to molten rage.
CUT TO:
76 INT. RESTAURANT/PARK ROW
Later. Everyone's gone except some WAITERS, cleaning up, and Boss Tweed
and Daniel Killoran, who sit at the end of the banquet table. Leftover
plates of food have been massed at Tweedls place and, as he talks, he
PICKS from them.
BOSS TWEED:
Let me put this to you, Daniel. Now that the Butcher has killed the single
most prominent figure in the Five Points--a man of myth and moment--who is
there to take his place?
(as Killoran starts to answer)
Of course. Then what do we do about the Butcher? He's too useful to be
killed, but he must be checked.
KILLARAN:
BOSS TWEED:
Impossible! Any cops who might have the mettle to go against the Butcher
have blood ties to the gangs. They can't be trusted. And any cops that can
be trusted are too craven to be any use. If Bill's to be checked, it must
come from within the Points, not without.
KILLORAN:
The Dead Rabbits did a proud job for elections. That Amsterdam boy has
sand.
BOSS TWEED:
That so? The last time I saw him he was under the Butcher's knife looking
like a fine filet. Who else is there?
KILLORAN:
Well, the Rough and Tumble Boys over to Slaughterhouse Point. There's
Country McCleesterls bunch, too, and the Plug Uglies, but there's none
that have the promise of the Dead Rabbits, or the stake, neither.
BOSS TWEED:
What would that be?
KILLORAN:
The boy Amsterdam has a blood feud with the Butcher. He's sworn revenge
for the death of his father, and he's got the heart to carry it forward.
He'll have the skill and power soon enough.
BOSS TWEED:
Blood will make a man intrepid. Bring them along, then. Nurture the
Rabbits with neglect. Let them roam where they like.
KILLORAN:
And if they roam into some portion of our own revenues?
BOSS TWEED:
I'd tolerate a little trespassing if it was for a higher good and use.
They'll cross with the Natives soon enough and keep each other occupied.
KILLORAN:
Bill's got to be a lot more than occupied.
BOSS TWEED:
I'll hold Bill in check. If he becomes unwieldy ... well, damn it all,
Daniel, I might just have to oil up my old musket. What do you think of
that, eh?
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"Gangs of New York" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 2 Jan. 2025. <https://www.scripts.com/script/gangs_of_new_york_294>.
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