- 0:06:39 Glorious battle
- Bill: Is this it Priest? The pope’s new army? A few crusty bitches and a handful of ragtags?
Priest: Now, now Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, not a bunch of Miss Nancys. So warriors is what I brought. [The O’Connel Guard! The Plug Uglies! The Shirt Tails! The Chichesters! The forty Thieves!]
Bill: 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 right-wise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it.
Priest: 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 will 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.
Bill: Then may the Christian Lord guide my hand against your Roman popery!
Priest: Prepare to receive the true lord!
- 0:21:40 Alliance
- 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.
Bill: You’re talking about muscle work.
Tweed: That too. Muscle to match our spirit!
Bill: You own the crushers, get them to do it.
Tweed: The police? Oh, no, Jesus, no. The appearance of the law must be upheld, especially while it’s being broken.
- 0:46:38 3 Millions
- Amsterdam: Everywhere you went people talked about the draft. Now, you could buy your way out for three hundred dollars . . . but who had three hundred dollars? For us it might as well have been three millions.
- 1:17:43 Whose man are you?
- Bill: Whose man are you? Speak smart and speak up
Assassin: Speaking Gaelic
Bill: What’s he saying boy?
Amsterdam: I think he’s making his peace with God.
Bill: The hell with that, he makes his peace with me. I’m hearing confession tonight you mother-whoring Irish nigger! Whose man are you? We speak English in this country! Whose man are you? You see this knife? I’m going to teach you to speak English with this fucking knife! Whose man are you? Whose man are you!
- 1:27:01 Forty-Seven-Years-Old
- Bill: You know how I stayed alive this long? All these years? Fear. The spectacle of fearsome acts. Somebody steals from me, I cut off his hands. He offends me, I cut out his tongue. He rises against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike and raise it high up so all in the streets can see. That’s what preserves the order of things. Fear.
- 1:44:10 Long live the priest
- Bill: We hold in our hearts the memory of our fallen brothers, whose blood stains the very streets we walk today. Also on this night, we pay tribute to the leader of our enemies, an honorable man who crossed over bravely, fighting for what he believed in. To defeat my enemy, I extinguish his life and consume him as I consume these flames. In honor of Priest Vallon.
- 1:59:46 An army
- Amsterdam: There’s more of us coming off these ships every day. I heard fifteen thousand Irish a week. And we’re afraid of the Natives. Get all of us together, and we ain’t got a gang . . .we got an army. And all you need’s a spark, right? Just one spark. Something to wake us all up
- 2:15:28 Fortune favors the bold
- Tweed: You killed an elected official?
Bill: Who elected him?
Tweed: You don’t know what you’ve done to yourself
Bill: I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot, so because you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth. You can build your filthy world without me. I took the father, now I’ll take the son. You tell young Vallon I’m gonna paint Paradise Square with his blood, two coats. I’ll festoon my bedchamber with his guts. As for you Mr. Tammany-fucking-Hall, you come down to the Points again, and you’ll be dispatched by mine own hand. Now get back to your celebration and let me eat in peace. I paid you fair.
- 2:23:00 Nobody goes to work today
- Amsterdam: When the sun rose next, the city had split in half. From all over New York they came: ironworkers, factory boys, street cleaners, Irish, Polish, German, anyone who never cared about slavery or the Union, anyone who couldn’t buy his way out. “Let the sons of the rich go and die,†they cried, “Let the sons of the poor stay home.†The earth was shaking now, but I was about my father’s business.
- 2:34:58 Tammany mourns
- Tweed: Tomorrow morning, get our people down to the docks. I want every man and woman coming off the boats given hot soup and bread. We’re burying a lot of votes down here tonight.
