Gangs of New York Page #25

The crowd quiets, their sporting blood still up, curiosity engaged. Only

Johnny seems glum, concerned.

This is to be a duel not for money, but for honor! A fight to the death...

AMSTERDAM:

(interrupting, emphasizing)

To the death. If he can stand up to it.

BARNUM:

... on which money, I hasten to add, may certainly be wagered. The names

of the two champions are Amsterdam Vallon, here beside me, and ... and Mr.

William Poole, known to all as ...

BILL THE BUTCHER

(leaping up)

They know me by any name, you son of a b*tch!

The crowd ERUPTS: this is a death match between Olympians. Only Johnny

does not rejoice. He looks at Amsterdam's face, flush with the belief that

the right moment has finally come, and he has to turn away. He walks away

from the ring as Killoran tries unsuccessfully to PULL the Butcher down

and cool him off.

BILL THE BUTCHER

(yelling)

I'll have him stretched on a spit!

Killoran is beside him now, whispering urgently. Bill the Butcher shakes

his head vehemently.

BILL THE BUTCHER

(to Killoran)

You got no more to say about this now.

92 CONTINUED:

AMSTERDAM:

Come on, Bill! Let go of your Tammany wet nurse! My challenge, your terms.

KILLORAN:

(to Bill)

Don't do it, you can't do it! There's the Conscription to deal with, and

elections coming, too. That's your calling now, not these ancient quarrels.

BILL THE BUTCHER

I'll do my work. But this is a shame, a public shame. It demands my

attention.

(yelling to Amsterdam)

Fine, then! Fine and welcome! Day after elections, we'll meet with seconds

on neutral ground to work out time and terms. It will be done and done.

He walks to the ring, holds his HAND out to Amsterdam.

BILL THE BUTCHER

You know this hand. Last time it was this close, it was on your throat.

AMSTERDAM:

I remember it better from another time.

He takes the Butcher's hand. The duel is on.

CUT TO:

93 INT./EXT. DRAFT REGISTRATION OFFICE

START CLOSE ON:
money being counted out: $300. And a RECEIPT quickly

written and given. We think at first this must be a bet being made on the

duel between Amsterdam and Bill the Butcher-

But we go WIDER to reveal: an office, tables and chairs, and a line. Two

lines, in fact. One, very long, filled with young man. And the second,

very short, in which a CLERK is handing the receipt to a PROSPEROUS YOUNG

MAN.

CLERK:

Your release from service, according to the terms of the Conscription Act.

Keep it somewhere safe.

PROSPEROUS YOUNG MAN

I'll keep it with me.

There is only one OTHER PERSON standen behind the Prosperous Young Man,

and he steps up quickly and hands $300 to the Clerk as the Prosperous

Young Man heads for the door...

... past the second line, which snakes out into the street, filled with

draftees who SHOUT at the Prosperous Young Man as he leaves.

DRAFTEE 1

Hey, tell your Papa to pass me three hundred dollars too.

DRAFTEE 2

Tell him if he don't we'll come get you on our way to Gettysburg.

The Prosperous Young Man HURRIES away, but spots Boss Tweed and Daniel

Killoran as he leaves.

PROSPEROUS YOUNG MAN

Oh, Mr. Tweed, I'd take the time to say proper thanks but...

BOSS TWEED:

No thanks owed, son. Conscription's Federal Law, and so's the $300

exemption. You might remind your father, though, that you saw me here

today, minding that the law's strictly and equitably enforced.

The Prosperous Young Man hurries out, as the Draftees continue to holler

abuse. Boss Tweed HEADS for them, followed by Killoran.

KILLORAN:

You see how much they like this damned law? Enforcing it's going to hurt

us in elections.

BOSS TWEED:

It's not my law, and not my liking, either. But Washington's always

treated us with sufferance, and we must extend the same regard to them.

(to Draftees)

Boys, we are bound by honor and love of country to fight in this time of

crisis!

DRAFTEE 4

We're bound by our wallets and the emptiness in them, that's what!

BOSS TWEED:

Boys, the union is in distress, our land is wounded deeply, our future is

suddenly a frail and finite thing. We must ask ourselves how...

DRAFTEE 5

Yeah, you could talk a dog off a meat wagen, Tweed. But let's see you

fight!

DRAFTEE 6

That'd be worth twice three hundred dollars to see!

BOSS TWEED:

(as he backs off)

Thank you, boys, thank you for your understanding.

(to Killoran)

Holy Mother.

Tweed hustles Killoran outside, where the line of Potential draftees

snakes down the block and into Paradise Square.

BOSS TWEED:

Daniel, between the blindness of Washington and the damned brass of Bill

Poole Tammany will fall like an autumn leaf. We must take what measures we

can. Attend to the Butcher. After the elections, of course. Unless you

think Amsterdam will do our work for us first.

KILLORAN:

He could at that. Then he would become a fresh concern

BOSS TWEED:

Not so daunting as this.

(turns to the Draftees in the street)

Boys, I've just had a word with your compatriots inside, and if you show

half the sand and a fraction of the spirit they have manifeste for joining

this great struggle...

There is a chorus of BOOS and JEEPS from the Draftees outside.

OUTSIDE DRAFTEE:

Put a rope around it, Tweed, and swing in your own wind!

BOSS TWEED:

Great weeping Jesus, Daniel, whatever happened to the halcyon days?

CUT TO:

94 EXT. POLLING PLACE/PARADISE SQUARE DAY

Election Day pandemonium. The Dead Rabbits aren't working the repeaters

this day, but Johnny observes the action as Native Americans--identifiable

because of their long dusters--strongarm REPEATERS into the polls.

His attention is drawn to a HARRIED TELEGRAPH OPERATOR, who is being

SHOUTED at by Natives as he is inundated by pieces of paper and teetering

volumes of the voting registry. It's chaos. The poor Operator can't cope.

CUT TO:

95 INT. TAMMANY HALL

It's chaos here, too. The large main room is filled with TELEGRAPH

OPERATORS receiving election returns. There is SHOUTING and CONCERN

throughout the room. Even Boss Tweed shows signs of worry.

BOSS TWEED:

I swear that science will be the death of industry.

KILLORKN:

The telegraph moves the voter tabulation by wire faster than we can get

the repeaters in and out.

BOSS TWEED:

(losing patience)

Your role is to expedite, Daniel, not to explain.

(Killoran looks at him blankly)

Do something!

JOHNNY:

If you'll allow me.

They both TURN to see Johnny standing coolly before them.

JOHNNY:

There's a scheme we might try.

KILLORAN:

You got no place among us, get the hell out of here however you come in.

BOSS TWEED:

A moment please, Daniel. One moment.

(to Johnny)

You're a Dead Rabbit, aren't you? Friend to Amsterdam?

(Johnny nods)

And therefore no particular friend to us. What brings you here?

JOHNNY:

Opportunity. Science and opportunity.

KILLORAN:

You got opportunities enough among your own.

JOHNNY:

I did have. But times change faster than people. Some people, anyhow. And

I like to stay with the advantage.

BOSS TWEED:

Well, then, a Gentleman of foresight! Are you suggesting... or perhaps

you're even saying... that your friend and your gang may be ... well,

lagging behind the great march of history?

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