Original subtitles

I don't know why you have to be so grumpy. It's not that far out of the

16 miles each way, 32 miles.

You don't think that's far?

Not to make somebody happy.

Why do you think it's going to make the chief happy? I don't think he likes

birthdays anyway, particularly his own.

We liked our gifts last year.

He said he liked it.

Well, it's not every San Francisco police officer who has his own antique

serpentine crease.

That's the point I'll give you.

Anyway, we ought to get him a tie.

Or better still, forget about it.

Oh, boy.

Oh, boy what?

Forget about birthday.

If you didn't have a birthday, you wouldn't be... You wouldn't be what?

You just wouldn't be.

In any way, you wouldn't know what sign you were born under. Sign?

Sign were you born under.

It said Wesley Memorial Hospital. Why?

Not that kind of a sign.

Kind of a zodiac.

Astrological sign.

Here's my horoscope for today.

You will have a dramatic surprise.

How about that?

Now it's my turn to say, oh boy.

All right.

Listen to this.

Born leader.

Shrewd, decisive, commanding and warm and generous. And yet an implacable foe

injustice.

Who does that describe?

Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Robert the Ironside. Not necessarily in

order. Right.

But it happens to be the people born under your sign.

Mine? That's right.

Cancer.

The crab.

There, that antique kettle.

You're kidding.

I certainly am not.

For the chief's birthday present? He can use it as a planter. I was lucky I only

found it by accident.

More of a disaster, I'd say.

If I can, I'll thank you.

Now, what does that mean?

It means, while you probably prefer young dishes, my gift runs to old pots.

Right with you, miss.

I'll take that one.

Got the permit?

Sure.

This expired.

1967.

Oh, it's the 9, 1969.

I just renewed it.

Listen, mister, I just got a messenger job at the bank. I need that piece.

All right, all right.

I'd like that kettle, please.

Oh, it's just lovely.

You got a good buy.

Okay, pops. You too, miss.

What are you, crunchy or something?

The car's not even loaded.

You want to push it?

The back door. Hurry.

Bye.

Chief. Don't talk, Eve.

Young.

Brown hair.

Leather jacket.

Later, Eve.

All right, Mark.

Don't you want to stick with her?

There's nothing we can do at the hospital right now except get in the

All right, you go ahead.

Ed can drive me.

SSLL, first name Fred.

5421 Harrison.

And a number, Juliet 7893.

I'll be in touch.

How do we stand?

The neighborhood's covered from 8th to Fremont.

Checking everyone in the building, somebody may have seen them. Got a

description? Pretty thin. I'm hoping we'll get a lead from one of those guns.

Eve thought she saw him handling one of them.

What about this Fred Kessel?

I don't know. The pad was next to the guns.

Could be the name of the suspect or another customer.

J7893. Kind of a license number, I think. We're checking it out.

What was Eve doing in this place?

Looking for a birthday present. For you.

I was right outside.

If only I'd come in with her, maybe it wouldn't have happened.

If, maybe, the world's greatest rationale.

Wasn't your fault.

Who's that?

Do you mind telling me just how long you intend keeping us here? Only a few more

minutes. That's what you said half an hour ago.

Brown!

There's a small mob out there. Why isn't someone handling it?

Sir, I've got some extra men coming in from the Rand Street station.

How, by dog sled?

I didn't expect to see you here, sir. Anytime a cop gets shot, expect me.

What was Chadwick doing here?

Having a drink.

The suspect showed a gun. Chadwick went for him, but didn't want to shoot. Too

many people around.

The killer didn't have that problem. Excuse me.

Are you the officer in charge?

I'd like to think so.

This is Chief Ironside, Miss Eve Whitfield, and Paul Fulham.

Miss Whitfield gave me a description of the suspect.

I had a good look at him.

Whitfield.

Any relation to Howard Whitfield?

He's my father. Do you know him?

In a way, we did business together.

Oh, well.

One of his banks held the pink slip on my car.

It will be in a minute, Miss Woodfield.

Chief Ironside, I'm not accustomed to being treated this way.

Then don't come to dives like this. Not just a minute.

You're not talking to one of your criminals.

Perhaps in his eyes.

Would the charge be slumming, Chief?

This isn't exactly your kind of playground.

I believe one of our constitutional freedoms is the right to go wherever we

please. And even the rich can enjoy it.

I trust you have tonight.

All right, Miss Whitfield.

You described the suspect to Sergeant Brown. Describe him to me.

The man you're looking for is about Paul's height and build.

He wore a tan sport jacket, brown slacks, brown hair.

Straight combed back, low forehead, rather flat features, thin mouth, and a

strong chin, I thought.

That's all I can be sure of.

You're very observant.

If that's all... Miss Whitfield, you could do us a great favor.

Repeat your description to our artist down at headquarters.

He can make a sketch.

When? Right now, while the details are still fresh in your mind.

You don't ask many favors, do you, Chief Ironside?

I don't usually need them.

Whenever you're ready.

Thank you.

My car's just outside.

If you haven't picked him up by now, you won't. He's either gotten through or

he's holed up.

What about the name Fred Kettle?

A couple of men are at that address now.

Haven't heard from them yet, but that number you gave us checks out.

Well? Gun permit.

Expired in 1967 in Kettle's name.

All right.

Dig into him.

Hard. He can reach me at the hospital.

Did he give you any word about Eve?

No, she's still in the emergency room.

I keep thinking she'll be all right. She'll fight.

Too stubborn to quit.

Chief Ironside, did you see the man or did I?

I said that his eyes were farther apart and that there was a flatness to the

bridge of his nose.

In all the noise and confusion, people running around screaming, you can be

about a little detail like that?

I am positive.

Fix it, George.

Yes, sir.

Is this your usual police technique?

Badgering your witnesses, trying to confuse them?

It helps to sift out the truth.

I think I could find a better way.

Probably. Don't think she couldn't.

I'll get her a badge.

I'll take care of that.

Oh, a person's belongings are given to a relative or held here until such time

as... I'm a friend. We work together.

I'm sorry, but hospital regulations are very strict.

Did you think I'd try to steal it?

Well, no, of course not, but... Well, I

suppose in this case... Thanks.

Doc, have you seen my purse? Oh, there. I knew I left it up here.

It was hanging on the chair. I didn't see it. Knocked it off. Oh, that's all

right. I'll take care of it.

Where's the thief?

Following doctor's orders, taking his nap in my room.

How did you manage that?

Just dumped him in the bed and closed the door.

Something tells me that you're going to be the best thing that could have

happened to him.

Don't you want to check it first, Miss Whitfield?

What?

The purge. To make sure nothing's missing.

Is there anything missing?

No.

Then why should I check it?

How long have you been here now, Mark?

Just about a week.

Then don't you think it's about time you began to trust us?

What's happening? She's still in the emergency room.

Did you reach Miss Whitfield's parents?

Not yet, doctor. Keep trying. We're taking her to surgery now.

How is she?

Critical.

It'll be at least a couple of hours, Chief Ironside.

Now, I could call you at your office when we hear... Thank you, but time

go any faster there.

All right.

I'll try to keep you posted.

Guess we'll move from the Harrison Street address over a year ago. The men

following up on a forwarding address.

What about the prints on those guns?

No record here. Checking with Washington.

Want some coffee?

Some sandwich?

It's going to be rough on Eve's parents. They should be notified personally.

But they're not home.

You imagine they've abandoned that place permanently?

That place?

No.

Not the way I remember it.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

May I have your invitations, please?

Invitations?

Robert T. Ironside, Chief Executive, San Francisco Police, in charge of Ned

Brown. Police?

We'd like to see Mr. Whitfield, please.

Well, I, uh... Come in.

If you'll wait here, please.

I get the feeling we should have come in the service entrance.

Chin up, Brown. This is a democracy.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

How good of you to come.

I'm Margaret Whitfield.

Oh, didn't Frederick show... Oh, well, come with me.

Hi.

We're very crowded, but I'm quite sure you can find seats.

Mrs. Whitfield, I'm afraid you don't understand.

What a lovely surprise.

Good afternoon, Chief Ironside. Sergeant Brown.

Hello again.

You've met my mother?

Yes, dear. I was just going to find room for them. It's all right. I'll take

care of it. We're running short of sandwiches. Would you ask Frederick to

the other trays in?

Of course.

Very nice to have met you, gentlemen.

Well, what can I do for you, Chief Ironside?

I'm assuming, of course, you're here to see me.

I've been trying to reach you all morning, Miss Whitfield.

They kept telling me that you were busy and that you'd call back.

I'm sorry. There was so much to do this afternoon and I had to get ready.

So Mohammed came to the mountain.

Or is it the other way around?

I'm sorry to drag you away from your party.

Oh, it's really not a party. We're just having a fashion show. A benefit.

Would you come in?

No, thanks.

We really don't have the time.

We checked the sketch you made last night against our mug files.

Came up with those three men.

Is any one of them the man you saw?

Yes. Which one?

What's it worth to you?

I don't understand.

You want me to help you, is that right?

Well, it's not exactly... Then I think it's only fair that you help me.

Us.

By buying a raffle ticket.

Miss Whitfield... It's the least you can do.

Anyway, you should be in sympathy with the cause.

It's for the police, widows, and orphans' aid.

How much are they?

Five dollars. How many would you like?

One.

We'll split it.

You're sure?

Please, no more technique, I'm sure.

Steve Lasko.

Thank you.

Excuse me, Chief Ironside, you're wanted on the telephone.

This way, please, sir.

Take care of the ticket.

I'll pay you later.

Thank you.

Ironside. Bonaro, Chief.

Teletype just came in from Washington.

The prints on one of those guns belong to Frank Sharkey.

Wanted on the East Coast.

Six counts of armed robbery.

Sounds promising.

Put it on APB.

In the works.

We got another address on Fred Kessel.

Want us to follow up?

Maybe some kind of tie -in.

What is it, Kessel?

1322 Ecker, apartment 5.

Right, I'll send that over.

I'm on my way. Sergeant.

May I see that?

357 Magnum.

What happened to your service revolver?

I've been fooling around with this on the range. A little more stopping power.

And you decided this might be a good time to try it out in the field. What

you planning on stopping, a tank?

There's no regulation against it.

On second thought, I'm coming with you. Waiting around here has got me ready to

jump out of my skin.

Chief.

All right, you stay if you want.

But you're a glutton for punishment.

And tell the M .E. I want a report before lunch.

If he can't do it, I'll come down and perform the autopsy myself.

Yes, sir. Chief.

Chief, I'm sorry.

I've been looking all over for you.

Good morning, Sergeant Brown. Miss Whitfield.

You wanted to see me? Yes. Your raffle ticket won a door prize.

I don't have to ask what it is. The latest Paris creation.

Here, probably fits you better than me.

Thanks. Nice seeing you again, Miss Whitfield.

Now, thank you for your trouble, Miss Whitfield.

Oh, no trouble at all.

I was coming downtown anyway.

to come in.

Really, Chief, you ought to have a better office.

This could belong to an accountant or a professor or just about anybody.

But a detective, especially one as important as you, should have some place

big, impersonal, scientific.

Some place full of gadgets to help him find clues and track down murderers.

Well, I'm probably keeping you from your work. You must have dozens of mysteries

to solve.

Goodbye, Keith.

As we feel.

To do.

You didn't just come here to deliver a door prize.

I may have a big mouth, but I've also got big ears.

Now, come on, sit down.

If you want the whole truth, you didn't win any prize at all.

It's the only excuse I could think of.

No, I can't say I'm brokenhearted.

All of a sudden, I don't know what to say.

Glasgow guilty, sentenced to gas chamber.

Yes.

And you feel that you're going to be the executioner?

I was the only witness who could identify him.

Plus a dozen detectives who matched his fingerprints, checked bullets from his

gun, traced the money he stole, backtracked his moves.

All under my orders.

By your definition, Miss Whitfield, I'm the executioner.

You don't understand. And what about the district attorney and the jury?

Each one of them is an executioner.

Please, Chief.

A man is going to die because I... If he does... If he does die, you

won't have killed him, Miss Whitfield, any more than I or the DA or the jury.

His punishment is fixed by the laws of this state.

But they're wrong.

Barbaric. Then change them.

But you can't change your responsibility as a citizen.

When a crime is committed, it's your duty to report the facts.

It's easy for you to talk.

You're a policeman.

This is all just routine.

Day murder and execution are just routine.

I'll walk out of this office.

Did you ever consider the other side of the coin, Miss Whitfield?

Every time one man is proven guilty, ten others are proven innocent.

You're right.

You do have a big mouth.

And you say some big words.

Just doing some missionary work.

Trying to gain a convert.

Me? Speaking philosophically, of course.

What kind of a future could the police department offer a woman like you?

Paul and Broker sure didn't take Kettle's address and that gun permit

nothing, but I don't see his connection with Sharkey.

He just came from the East. That's a record of working alone.

Chief, you with me?

I'm with you.

Hello, Keith.

Well, Miss Whitfield.

It's been a long time. On your way to another important case?

Just finished a lecture at the police academy.

More missionary work?

Part of my job.

How about lunch?

I'm sorry, I... Come on, you haven't finished converting me.

Miss Whitfield, I... HBO, next block, take a right.

Unless you're too chicken to let a woman buy your lunch.

Now, wait a minute.

What's the matter? Don't we have any coverage you like? What's that?

Oh, sorry, Chief.

But what's the trouble? Anything I can do?

Yes.

We've got an anti -noise ordinance in this town, don't we?

Yes, sir.

Come on, get this done. Hurry up.

Well, now, taking a little time out, isn't that painful, is it?

Of course not.

Very pleasant, in fact. And it's good to see you again.

Thank you. And you.

You know, I always wanted to talk to you about that first night we met.

I never had a chance to explain.

Explain what?

What we... Paul and I.

We weren't in that place.

Well, like you thought.

Flumming was your word.

It was stupid.

It was a new trio playing, and I wanted to hear them.

I thought perhaps they could play at our fashion show.

And, well, why am I apologizing to you?

I don't know.

Why are you?

Oh, I suppose I'm a little ashamed.

Trying to change your impression of me.

What's my impression?

Usual. Rich.

Scatterbrained.

Useless?

Scatterbrained, no.

Rich, yes, but don't knock it.

Useless?

Well, you're pretty good at selling raffle tickets.

And riding and sailing, throwing parties, visiting art galleries, taking

everything the proper little society girl's supposed to do. Miss Whitfield,

you expect me to feel sorry for you... No.

Please don't patronize me.

If I have, I apologize.

Couldn't you just hear the violins?

Poor butterfly.

You know, there's nothing wrong with you that a nice, steady... Now you sound

like my parents.

There's nothing wrong with you that a nice, steady husband wouldn't cure.

I was about to suggest a job.

Like what?

Depends on your qualifications.

Riding, sailing, taking trips, visiting art galleries.

Poor butterfly.

Well, honestly, there's very little I can do.

Well, then learn.

Go back to school if necessary. You'll find something if you really want to.

You almost make me believe it.

But not quite.

Enough to give it a try.

All right.

To the new Eve Whitfield.

Career woman.

And that's another decision.

Whatever.

It'll be a success.

Chief Ironside.

You better knock on wood.

Who is it?

Police.

Yes? I'm Sergeant Brown. This is Chief Ironside.

What do you want?

We're looking for Fred Kessel.

Come on. My husband's dead.

More than a year now.

I'm sorry. I didn't know.

Mrs. Kessel, we want some information. Perhaps you could help us.

Did your husband own a gun, Mrs. Kessel?

He was a bank messenger.

Then he had a gun permit.

Sure, he had to.

What happened to the gun permit?

I don't know.

Did you save any of your husband's personal papers?

Yeah.

Well, you know, usual stuff.

Kind of like keepsakes.

Would you please check them?

What's this all about, anyway?

The owner of a pawn shop on 4th Street was shot and killed this morning.

Sometime before that, he made a record of your husband's name and a number of

his gun permit.

That's crazy.

Well, there may be some reasonable explanation.

But first, we have to find that permit.

Sorry, I can't find it.

Mrs. Kessel, does the name Frank Sharkey mean anything to you?

Frank... Sharkey.

Yeah, I know him. I've seen him a couple of times.

That's all?

That's all.

Well, can you tell us anything about him?

Just a man.

Why? We believe he's the man who shot the pawnbroker.

Now, when did you see him last?

A couple of weeks ago.

I don't remember.

All right, Mrs. Kessel.

Thank you for your help.

Mrs. Kessel, we've assumed...

Perhaps we've been presumptuous.

But you haven't remarried.

No.

Anything more you'd like to know?

Not now.

Sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Kettle.

I'm ready to bet the junkie stole that gun permit.

He still may be involved with Kessel's widow, so hold that stakeout round the

clock.

If anything breaks, you can reach Ed or me at the hospital.

Third floor, Miss Kiley.

Yes, he's here.

I'll tell him.

That was the operating room, Mr. Sanger.

Miss Whitfield is still in surgery.

She's doing as well as can be expected.

What's that supposed to mean?

I'm sorry, Mr. Sanger.

There's nothing more I can tell you.

You're making me nervous.

Why don't you take a walk?

We'll get yourself some supper. You haven't eaten yet.

Mark's getting some sandwiches.

Hello.

Yes, he's here. He's calling, please.

Just a minute.

Mrs. Kessel.

This is Ironside.

Mrs.

Kessel, I can't hear you.

The man you're looking for.

He was here.

Frank Sharkey? When?

A little while ago.

It was terrible.

Sharkey was just there. Check the stakeout.

Yes, Mrs. Kessel.

Try to control yourself.

When I told him that you'd been here, he got so mad.

Mrs. Kessel, do you know where he went?

Did he give you any idea?

No. He took all my money.

Fred's old driver's license.

Yes.

He knew just where it was.

Then he could have taken that gun permit, too.

Yes.

Oh, please.

Please. Try to understand.

I've been so lonely.

Mrs. Kessel.

I never saw him. I figure he must have gone across the roofs.

Query.

Why did Sharkey take Kessel's old driver's license?

Did he?

Must have needed it to drive a car.

Again, Query.

What car?

His own?

Then he would have had a driver's license, and we'd have had a record of

plus the car registration.

Maybe he figures on stealing one.

Been another warning sign on himself, so we'd also be looking for a hot car.

Besides... Why worry about the legality of a driver's license at that point?

You're leading up to your own answer.

Outside of buying a car, which is highly unlikely, how else can you get one and

have to show identification?

Rental. Get on it. Cover the downtown agencies first and work out.

Ed.

If this thing pans out, bring Sharkey in.

I want him alive.

Do you mind?

What's the big rush?

Traffic details spotted Howie Regal. He's holed up in a loft.

Regal, the man who shot your partner? That's right.

But this isn't your case, is it?

He killed my partner.

Oh, no, Ed.

Eve, I'm in a hurry.

To do what?

Arrest a man or to kill him?

Listen, rookie, don't let that shiny new badge go to your head.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to be telling you what to do.

But I'm only learning some of the things you've probably forgotten.

Like what people always think happens to a cop killer.

An automatic death sentence. That's what everyone believes.

The police always take care of their own first.

And when something happens to one of them, they pay back double.

They don't want justice. They want vengeance.

That's a lie.

Are you sure?

Bubble 2 -5, Brown.

This is Bonero.

Talk about timing.

One of the car rental agencies we're calling?

Sharky's there right now.

Uh -huh.

Showed Kessel's driver's license for identification.

Clerk said he tried to stall him.

Zeno rental on Mason.

Got it. I'm only a few blocks from there. You pull in the men.

Upstairs where?

Second level. I gave him that blue four door near the end.

Okay, keep everybody off that level.

Ivan, I'll be here any minute.

police basic car put your hands on the roof

All right, don't shoot.

No one hurt.

Good work. Stay on it.

Chief Ironside?

Yes? Good afternoon.

Well, hello.

Sorry to disturb you, but it'll only take a minute.

I need your signature.

Police again?

I took the liberty of saying that you'd recommend me.

Miss Whitfield, are you sure you know what you're doing?

There you go.

Sounding like my parents again.

No, I don't.

Absolutely insane.

But I want to try it anyway.

Fair enough.

There's room at the bottom for personal remarks if you'd like to add any.

I can think of a few. That would help me.

I'll try.

Are you looking for somebody?

Mm -hmm.

These your stake -ins?

Outs.

Stake -outs.

Oh.

All right, Miss Whitfield.

Your application for blood, sweat, and tears.

Conscientious. Dedicated.

Those are lovely words.

I hope I can live up to them.

You better.

Nobody makes a liar out of me.

Come in, come in.

Chief Ironside.

I just had a call from surgery.

I wanted you to know right away.

Thank you, nurse.

And I hereby certify that the aforesaid officer is physically fit to return to

active duty to sign J .L. Travis, Medical Department, San Francisco

All you have to do is countersign it and I'm back in harness.

Well?

I can't help thinking if I hadn't signed another paper like this, you'd never

have been shot.

No. I'd have broken my neck fox hunting or drowned while sailing.

There are no guarantees.

Let me live my life at least.

Last chance to back out.

It is my life.

All right, everybody.

Shout out.

Your birthday present.

You couldn't have thought of anything more appropriate, Eve.

Guess the only kind of pot a chili won't burn a hole through.