In Old Chicago Page #6

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He said he's afraid he couldn't figure on you.

Well, at least he's agreed to run. | That's the first step.

What worries me is, | can you control him once he's in?

He's a pretty stubborn | young fellow.

You leave that to me. | We O'Learys are a strange tribe.

- How's that? | - Not bad.

Of course, it doesn't | look much like you.

"Jack O'Leary, candidate for mayor. | Reform ticket. "

That's a great thing for Chicago. | I'd like to help.

- You help me? | - Sure. Why not?

If other people say you're good enough | to be mayor, I'm not going to say no.

Of course, I couldn't | support you openly.

You know how I feel | about the Patch.

Oh, of course. | No strings attached.

- The fact you're my brother wouldn't mean a thing. | - Stop arguing, will you?

If you stood in the way of something | I felt oughta be done...

I'd go after you as fast as I would | after anybody else, maybe faster.

Because I'm in dead earnest. I see Chicago | as a great city people can be proud of.

I'd wipe out | all this mushroom growth...

start all over on a sound basis, | with steel and stone.

You don't have to make | speeches to me, Jack.

I just wanted you | to know where I stand.

- Well, how much do I owe you? | - I'm two games up on you.

Ah. Twenty cents. | What a gambler.

It's in the blood.

It's in the blood.

Say, why don't you get Belle and come to the | house tonight and take her and Ma for a drive?

- Ha! You know Ma. | - We'll get a couple of beers under her belt.

Well, heaven help us | if it doesn't work out.

- To His Honor, the future mayor. | - To Chicago!

And to herself, | the first lady of the city!

Oh, to the lot of you!

- The compliments of the season to you, ma'am. | - Oh, go on. More presents.

You should see the grand house | we're gettin' for you. Inside plumbing.

- And a butler in short pants. | - Heaven help me.

It's himself.

- Pa.! | - It looks just like him.

Sure got my nose.

I can remember the day we took it | like it was yesterday...

and the trouble we had | puttin' the collar on him.

- Well, Ma, where are we gonna hang him? | - Hang him?

You'll do no such. He's gonna spend | the rest of his days on this organ.

If he only could have seen it himself.

Isn't he beautiful? | I want the baby to see it.

Look, that's | your grandpa.

Aw, Pat, | would you believe it?

And Bob | just a baby himself.

If you turn out half as good as the blood | that's in you, I'll not complain.

You know, Ma, | it looks like Pa had...

sort of a roving eye | for the ladies.

I'll thank you to keep | a civil tongue in your head.

Roving eye, ha! | I'd like to catch him.

Look.

You're so good to me, the lot of you. | You'll have me in tears.

- Oh, Ma. Beer always did make you cry. | - Listen to him.

We'll play him a tune, | his favorite one.

- Come on, Ma, and play it. | - Come on, the four of you.

We'll show him a thing or two. | The O'Learys against the world.

The O'Learys against the world! | - We will. Come on, Ma.

You should've seen your father dance, | as light as a canary...

and stealing a kiss | before you could shut your eyes.

And the fair Molly Callahan | loving it, I'm thinking.

And why shouldn't I | be loving it?

Himself as fine a man as ever stood up | with a girl in front of an altar.

And that's what | you should be doin'.

- That's what I was telling him today. | - Is it herself, you mean?

I met Miss Fawcett. She's a fine woman. | You oughta know her.

Hmm. I will not. And her workin' | in a saloon like any hussy.

- Oh, that's not fair, Ma. We're living in modern times. | - That's right.

Don't forget, things have changed | since you were a girl. This is 1870.

Times may have changed, | but I haven't changed.

And I don't want any daughter-in-law | that's the talk of the town...

and kickin' her heels | in the air for anyone to see.

When you were a little one, no bigger | than that, and me over a tub...

I used to dream of the day when you'd | bring me home a sweet one...

and her all blushes, | and present me with fine grandsons...

as would be like sons | of my own, only sweeter.

It's my own life, Ma.

Who'll have some more beer?

- Me. | - I wouldn't mind another drop.

Here, Ma. | Put a head on it.

Good evening, Mr. Jack. | Will you tell Mr. Dion his buggy's here?

- Oh, thanks. | - He'll be right out.

Now, Ma, drink your beer and forget | about it, and let's go for a ride, huh?

Oh, sure. | How about it, Ma?

- That I will. | - Oh, fine. I'll get your coat and hat.

Aw, Ma.

There you are.

Drink it all, Ma.

Come on, Ma.

Now, First Lady, I've got | a real surprise for you...

two of the fastest fillies | you ever sat behind.

Now, close your eyes and get inside. | Close 'em. Up one step. There you go.

Inside. Ma, this is Miss Fawcett. | This is Belle.

- Hmm! So it's a trick. | - No, wait a minute!

You're going to meet Belle, so you | might as well get used to the idea.

- The devil I will. Let me out. | - Ma, you always were so stubborn.

If you don't stop it, | I'll give you the licking of your life.

- Well, you don't think I'm gonna ride with her! | - Oh, come back here!

Sit down! Driver, drive on! Drive on!

Let me out! Let me out, I say!

- Sit still! | - Let me out! Stop it, I tell you!

I won't be treated | this way!

You Irish lunkhead! | What do you think you're doing?

My son an Irish lunkhead? How'd you like | to be treated? You with your grand manners.

Just as any woman who's going | to be his wife has a right to be treated.

He'll never marry you. And now, | if you'll stop, I'll be takin'my leave.

- Stop here. | - Whoa!

- Wait. I'll get out. | - You'll do no such.

It's you who'll be saving | the wear and tear of walking.

- Ma. | - Hmm!

How could you?

I'm sorry. I didn't think | Ma would act like that.

Take me home, please.

My friends...

this campaign | has resolved itself...

into one | clear-cut issue.

Shall the Patch | run Chicago...

or shall Chicago | run the Patch?

I promise you | that if I am elected...

the Patch will | either be cleaned up...

or it will be wiped out | like that.

Hooray for Gil Warren.!

- Who said that? | - Shh, shh.

- Oh, it's a shame. | - The trouble with him is he looks too honest.

People never trust | an honest man in office.

Well, I wish | he hadn't tried it.

He'll never beat Warren.

Never say never | about politics.

What are you up to now?

Well, I was just wondering | what would happen...

if all Gil Warren's ward heelers | and poll watchers and repeaters...

failed to show up | on Election Day.

- What do you mean? | - He wouldn't stand much chance of being elected, would he?

George, drive | to Commissioner Beavers'.

Gil Warren's my friend. | I won't do it. I can't.

I won't do it! I can't! | I'll be ruined forever.

For doing your duty? Oh, come, come, | Commissioner. Be a man.

He'll kill me.

Besides, what you're asking is against | the law, against all my principles.

You've been getting $100 a week | for doing what I tell you.

Every cent I got | was in cash.

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