[Scraping]
No, son... never.
The blood stays on the blade.
One day you'll understand.
AMSTERDAM: 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.
[Flute and drum music plays]
[Man speaking Latin]
May God put the steel of the Holy Spirit in your spine
and the love of the Blessed Virgin in your heart.
[Music continues]
Hey, boyo.
Johnny.
What's the battle?
Natives against the Dead Rabbits.
Which are you?
What do you think? Dead Rabbits.
Aaah!
Aaah! Aaah!
[Indistinct shouting]
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 ten per notch.
Ten?
You have my word.
Ten per notch?
Per new notch.
Then I'm your man.
[Music stops]
[Footsteps approaching]
BILL: Is this it, Priest?
The pope's new army?
A few crusty bitches and a handful of ragtags?
Now, Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors,
not a bunch of Miss Nancys.
So warriors is what I brought.
The O'Connell Guards!
The Plug Uglies!
The Shirt Tails!
The Chichesters!
The Forty Thieves!
Bene.
On my challenge...
by the ancient laws of combat...
we have 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!
ALL: Yeah!
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!
ALL: Yeah!
Then may the Christian Lord guide my hand
against your Roman popery!
Prepare to receive the true Lord!
ALL: Yeah!
[Drums beating loudly]
[Slow, dramatic music plays]
Aaah!
Aaaaahhhh!
Priest!
[Gasps]
[Bagpipe music plays]
[Blows]
Aaaaahhhh!
Look to me!
Who is this under my knife?!
Father, get up! Get up!
Where are you?
Oh, my son...
[Coughs weakly]
Don't never look away.
Soon be over, Priest.
Finish it.
- [Knife plunges] - Ugh!
[Knife withdraws]
[Crying]
You may need this across 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!
BILL: It's fair...
a touch indelicate, but fair.
My sympathies.
MAN: What'll 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.
[Whooshes]
- Hey. - MAN: Hey!
[Indistinct shouting]
Get him!
Don't let him get away!
Hurry! Come in here!
Aaah!
- Aaah! - He's going downstairs.
[Panting]
[Both panting]
[Continues panting]
Come here, boy!
You're going to Hellgate, son!
There he is. Let's get him.
BILL: Priest Vallon died a noble death.
But his Dead Rabbits is done and outlawed!
Let no one even speak their name from this time on!
M INISTER: 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.
[Door closes]
[Crow caws]
[Drum beating loudly]
[Up-tempo music plays]
[Cheers and applause]
AMSTERDAM: 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.
MAN: Down with Lincoln!
MAN #2: Lincoln will make all white men slaves!
AMSTERDAM: 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.
MAN: Down with the abolitionists!
We should have run a better man against Lincoln
when we had the chance.
MAN: New York should secede from the Union!
He trying to say we're no different than niggers?!
You ain't.
- Good evening, brother. - MAN: God save the Union!
There's the Union.
Go back to Africa, niggers!
Go back to Africa!
- MAN: Leave him alone! - We're free.
AMSTERDAM: The angriest talk
was of the new Conscription Act...
the first draft in Union history.
MAN: No nig noggery here!
None!
ALL: Yeah!
BO Y: "New York Tribune"! Buy your "Tribune" here!
MAN: Join the Army, lads!
Three square meals a day and good pay!
AMSTERDAM: 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.
MAN: Go back to Ireland, you dumb Micks!
You remember that, you bog-Irish gyps!
Get back on the boat, Paddy!
AMSTERDAM: 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...
[Chuckles] It was all the same.
[Translation from Gaelic] Seven curses of God on you, you bastard!
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.
MAN: Go back to your own country!
Vote Tammany!
MAN: America for Americans!
[Up-tempo music plays, fireworks exploding]
AMSTERDAM: New York loved William Tweed...
and hated him.
And those of us trying to be thieves...
well, we couldn't help but admire him.
Mr. Cutting, gentlemen, thank you for coming.
- It's an honor. - BILL: Mr. Tweed.
[Birds chirping]
Sir, please.
Excuse me!
I think you're frightening them.
So?
Don't mind him. He used to be an Irishman.
[Laughter]
[Mid-tempo music plays]
AMSTERDAM: Ah, the Five Points...
Murderers' Alley...
Brickbat Mansion...
the Gates of Hell.
REV. RALEIGH: It was 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.
REV. RALEIGH: ...degraded men and women.
MAN: Where am I going to go?!
MAN #2: Move! The Reverend wants you out of here!
You can't do this!
Come on, you filthy grubworm!
REV. RALEIGH: A glorious resurrection
will spring from the filthy depths...
to which these miserable creatures have fallen.
In God, they will find their true home.
TWEED: 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.
It's 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, I'd shoot every one of them
before they set foot on American soil.
BILL: Mulberry Street...
and Worth...
- Cross and Orange... - [Birds chirping]
And Little Water.
Each of the Five Points is a finger.
When I close my hand, it becomes a fist.
And anytime 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,
carting licenses...
St. Michael, the Archangel...
defend us in battle.
Be our protector against the snares and the wickedness
of the devil.
TWEED: 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'm 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.
[Fireworks exploding]
Give me the strength for what I must do.
JOHNNY: Who are you?
- Ah! - JI M MY: Hey!
No.
I said, "Who are you?" What are you doing here?
I just like it down here, is all.
[Chuckles]
See what's in his pockets, Jimmy.
Now, look, boys, I really don't want a fight.
Don't want a fight?
Don't worry, son, ain't gonna be much a fight.
Don't kill me.
[Panting]
Where'd you get that?
I told you I didn't want to fight!
Why not?
Look how good you done.
- [Chuckles] - [Laughs]
You're the Priest's son, aren't you?
You, get away from me, understand?!
You don't remember me, do you?
I's the one tried to help you.
What?
I's the one tried to help you...
when the Natives took you.
Oh, that was you?
Yeah.
I thought you was killed.
[Both chuckle]
They just locked me up, you know that?
This long?
But I kept trying to escape, you know.
They add on time for that.
So what are you doing back here?
I guess I missed the place. [Chuckles]
[Horse neighs]
[Laughs]
Bowery Boys. [Laughs]
[Drum beating]
MAN: That's enough now.
[Man speaking Chinese]
MAN: Hey! Get back here!
The Five Points...
Paradise Square...
the streets here are always lively of an evening.
Who are the gangs around now?
You 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 a while,
but they've become a bunch of jackrolling dandies,
lolling around Murderers' 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.
Got their own language.
No one understands what they're saying.
They love to fight the cops.
And the Night Walkers of Ragpickers' 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, he hacks up blood on you.
MAN: The lime-juicers
are nothing but a bunch of rapacious grab-ups.
The True Blue Americans call themselves a gang,
but all they do is stand around on corners damning England.
MAN: If you believe one word that the British say,
you're a fool.
Do any of them got the sand of the Dead Rabbits?
You don't say that name.
That name died with your...
They've 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.
[Indistinct conversations]
Oh! Aah!
Look where you're going, Johnny.
You look stunned and poorly, sir.
Quite a pair of conversationists, aren't you?
[Laughing]
[Chuckles]
Maybe not...
but we're deep thinkers.
[Laughing]
Well...
Gentlemen, I leave you in the grace and favor of the Lord.
[Laughs]
JOHNNY: Jenny... the finest bludget in all the Points.
She is a prim-looking stargazer.
Hmm.
But I'd check my pockets if I was you...
'cause I do believe she lifted your timepiece.
[Harmonica music plays]
MAN: Whoo!
Well, I let her take it.
I let her take things all the time.
Is that right?
[Up-tempo music plays]
AMSTERDAM: We always liked a good fire in the Points.
MAN: Fire!
You could generally pick up a little swag,
and if the cops came along, then you really got a show.
TWEED: Vote Tammany!
AMSTERDAM: The Municipal Police
fought the Metropolitan Police.
The Metropolitan Police... they fought the street gangs.
TWEED: Hurry up, men, before the Black Joke get there!
AMSTERDAM: There were 37 amateur fire brigades,
and they all fought each other.
WOMAN: The Black Joke are on their way, Tweed!
And they'll beat the shite out of you.
[Loud cheering]
Okay, boys!
Get the hose out!
[Indistinct shouting]
It's the Black Joke!
Go get them, boys!
MAN: Give those Bowery Boys hell!
Quick, before there's nothing left.
MAN: Go back to the Bowery, you bums!
MAN #2: 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!
MAN: Whoo!
Let's go.
I thought you said you was hungry!
AMSTERDAM: Grab what you can! Let's get out of here!
MAN: 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...
- [Music box plays] ...and, in a moment, outfought.
Am I?
[Loud cheering, bell ringing]
There's the Black Joke! Let's take them on the cobbles!
Go spill some claret, boys!
Go on, Shorty, have a nice muss!
MAN: 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: Aah!
- AMSTERDAM: Johnny! - Help!
Johnny!
Help!
Aah.
Help!
Come on! Come on, Johnny! Get up!
Leave that!
TWEED: You two, out of the way!
His name's Amsterdam.
How's the beak?
Ain't so bad.
You, you got anything, you give it up,
or you get out.
[Clears throat]
[Exhales sharply]
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?
[Chuckling]
I'll slit your fucking throat!
Hey, come on!
[Door closes]
You boys will settle with me before settling with each other.
I come for my due and proper.
[Flute and drum music play]
Oh...
Well, this ain't a bad haul.
You know when folks start in to 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 you?
[Coughing]
[Music box plays]
Not my favorite tune.
[Music stops]
Thank you, boys.
You keep out of trouble, now.
[Speaking Chinese]
AMSTERDAM: Every year, the Natives celebrated
the killing of my father all over again...
...at Sparrow's Chinese Pagoda in 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.
[Indistinct conversations, Irish music plays]
Hey, got any timber?
[Match strikes]
[Conversations, music continue]
# As I walked down To Chatham Street #
# A fair maid I did meet #
# She asked me To see her home #
# She lived In Bleecker Street #
# To me a-weigh, you Santee #
# My dear Annie #
# Oh, you New York girls #
# Can't you dance the polka? #
# To me a-weigh, you Santee #
# My dear Annie #
- [Glass breaking] - # Oh, you New York girls #
# Can't you dance the polka? #
# And when we got To Bleecker Street #
# We stopped at 44 #
# Her mother and her sister #
# Dared to meet us At the door #
# To me a-weigh, you Santee #
# My dear Annie #
- [Burps] - # Oh, you New York girls #
# Can't you dance the polka? #
# To me a-weigh, you Santee #
Hey, Maggie. Right ear or left ear?
Ah, give us a drink, you eejit.
Help yourself.
To health.
# The liquor was So awfully strong #
Two minutes! Place your bets!