Original subtitles

I'll level with you, Eliot.

I'm being pressured.

I mean, I'm really in a squeeze.

I-I may end up behind the eight ball.

No deals.

No deals.

No deals!

No feeling, no heart.

Like a talking machine.

What do you care?

As long as you chalk up another win,

you hang another scalp on your belt!

What's the difference if it happens to be mine?

Who do you think you are, Mr. Ness?

Who are you to decide who lives, who dies?

No deals.

Tonight's episode...

Starring Robert Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Martin Landau, Gavin MacLeod

and George Tobias.

With special guest star Jack Klugman.

And narrated by Walter Winchell.

In the latter half of 1932,

the Untouchables had been training their big guns

on Mikhail "Red Mike" Provitch,

who had hard-fisted his way up from the docks

to a top spot in Chicago's hierarchy of crime.

In January 1933, they were ready to move.

Hey, not bad at all.

Way over last week.

Tuesday night was big.

Big?

Great.

For the middle of the week,

I've never seen anything like it.

Relax!

Let me go, let me go.

The ledger was damning evidence,

and when the case went to court a few weeks later,

the prosecution also had the promised testimony

of Connie Laverne and the girls.

Red Mike Provitch was as good as in jail.

There was one stumbling block:

Morton Halas, the defense attorney.

Ness had tangled with him before.

Halas made no effort to keep Provitch

from testifying, but he had coached him well.

On the stand, Provitch lied blandly, easily, convincingly.

So did the witnesses: all four

that District Attorney Harker Wade had counted on.

They were shocked by the implications

and the prosecutor's questions.

One after the other, under oath,

suffered a sudden, convenient loss of memory.

On the fifth day of trial,

fighting desperately to make up lost ground,

Wade was dealt another telling blow.

Your Honor, I must report a most untimely loss.

A very important piece of evidence has disappeared.

If the prosecution wishes a continuance...

I don't think it would help, sir.

I think the evidence was stolen.

Objection.

Statement is opinion and prejudicial.

Sustained.

Of course, the witness wouldn't have any idea

what happened to that ledger.

I don't know what you are talking about.

A brownstone house on North Larson Street.

You have testified that you own it,

and you rent it to Miss Connie LaVerne.

What sort of club do you suppose she was running there?

What do you think, she's going to tell me?

You were there often enough.

Sure, every week to collect the rent.

I thought she was running an agency for models.

That's all for now, Your Honor.

Does the defense wish to cross-examine?

No cross-examination.

The witness may step down.

It isn't over yet.

We've still got Connie.

She's 80% of the case.

At this point, she's all of it.

Your Honor, the prosecution would like

to call Miss Connie LaVerne.

Objection.

On what grounds?

A wife can't testify against her husband,

and Miss LaVerne happens to be Mrs. Provitch.

Since when?

Oh, since almost a week.

Half an hour later, the case went to the jury,

and in another half hour, the jury was back.

Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?

Yes, we have, Your Honor.

We find the defendant not guilty.

Will the attorney for the defense

come forward, please?

Mr. Halas...

the court has every reason to believe

that witnesses in this trial have been suborned,

vital evidence stolen

and due process reduced to a mockery.

I've occupied this bench for a great number of years,

and I have never watched

such an arrogant rape of justice!

Now, I promise you, Mr. Halas,

I'll do everything in my power to have you disbarred.

This case is dismissed.

Ah, tonight, we have a little celebration, huh?

Sure your wife's going to let you out?

Congratulations!

So, you take another one.

Some days, you're just lucky, huh?

Some days, you're crooked.

No conscience, no respect

for yourself or your profession.

You know he's guilty.

Let me tell you something, Mr. Ness.

I don't have to believe my client is innocent.

I just have to prove it.

Have some candy.

Mr. Halas... can you spare a minute?

Alone?

Excuse me.

I'm here for Larry Coombs.

I guess you know about him.

I know about him.

I figured you would.

And he wants to talk to you.

Some kind of law business.

He said to come to his place.

If he wants to talk about horses,

women or baseball, I go to his place.

He wants to talk about the law, he comes to mine.

Will you take your hands off me, please?

Everybody wants something.

A goon... he works for Larry Coombs.

I hear this Coombs is coming up fast.

Too fast... you're buying trouble.

I didn't buy.

You worry about me?

All the time.

We got some big plans for you.

Like what? Like about 20 years to life.

Like I told you, Larry said his place.

In a newly leased penthouse high above Michigan Avenue,

a former acid man for the old Bugs Moran crowd

awaited the arrival of Halas.

His name: Larry Coombs.

Spawned by Prohibition, he was climbing to a new level

in Chicago's hierarchy of crime.

Take your hands off me.

You wanted him, you got him.

Next time, you learn how to treat my lawyer.

Outside.

They don't know no better.

Hey, come on.

Can I buy you a drink?

No drink, no business.

I'm exclusively with Provitch.

Oh, there ain't no percentage in that.

Provitch is dead.

Ask me, he had it coming to him.

Big, loudmouthed slob pushing people around.

He was good to me.

So, I'm going to be better.

Say you cleared one of his mugs for running booze.

What did Provitch pay you?

Couple of grand.

I'm going to double.

A narco rap?

Five.

I'm going to give you ten.

Murder.

Win or lose, 20 grand.

I'm kicking it up to 35.

You talk big numbers.

I'm a big man.

Recognize that merchandise?

Grey Stag... it's one of Capone's labels.

Yeah.

It's the biggest item they got.

They can't meet the demand,

so I'm going to build a little plant for them.

I make it, they handle the distribution.

Me and the Capone mob, we're partners.

Did they go to Provitch?

No.

They come to me... me.

Three years, I've been working and waiting.

Now I'm in.

Now it's me and Nitti,

so I can talk numbers as big as I like.

Provitch is dead?

Yeah, yeah.

You'd better save, uh, Wednesday afternoon.

Be a lot of talk if you miss the funeral.

Who knocked him over?

Ain't nothing you can do about it.

Who knocked him over?

One of my boys.

When?

Tomorrow night.

♪ ♪

Mike Provitch still operated

the small poolroom on the North Side,

where he had started his long climb from the docks.

His reasons were not entirely sentimental.

Each night, the take from half a dozen rackets

was collected here.

And each night, Provitch stopped to pick it up.

Shut up and move over.

Come on, come on.

Come on, you.

It's done... let's move!

I seen them!

I seen them!

I seen them.

Honest, I'd know him anywhere.

Are you sure he's the one who did the shooting?

Well, sure. He was sitting in the car.

He shot him after the other guy I showed you came out

of the poolroom and got in the front seat.

Look, I couldn't forget a thing like this.

I never seen anybody killed before.

Thank you. We believe you.

His name's Rossi.

He'll drive you home.

Why don't you call me Rico?

I'll be around for a while.

Let's go.

Larry Coombs.

Well, he got rid of Provitch.

He did us a big favor.

Not if he's putting on Provitch's hat.

I should have known he was going for something big.

He tried to buy insurance yesterday.

Insurance?

He tried to make a deal with Halas.

And?

Count your blessings.

Halas turned him down cold.

Provitch! Provitch!

All over the papers!

You talk such a big game,

and then you pull a two-bit stunt like this!

If I want your advice, I'll ask for it.

You do your talking in court.

You pay me to keep you out of court.

And you're not giving me much edge!

Blasting away like the Fourth of July!

Come one, come all, see the big show!

Nobody seen us. Nobody.

That late at night, who's even awake?

You'd be surprised.

I, uh...

I think you know my client, Mr. Coombs?

You bought yourself a pretty good lawyer.

You're going to need him.

I don't need a lawyer to know

you're way off base unless you've got a warrant.

One for you, one for him.

What's the charge?

Murder.

The Provitch killing last night.

That's a hot one.

Why you, uh... Uh.

Can I have a minute to talk to my client?

One minute.

We'll be outside.

You.

Come on.

You're not, uh, letting them take me in, are you?

He's got a warrant.

He's got a warrant, he's got a lot more.

You get me out, huh?

Whitey, too.

I'm a lawyer, not a miracle worker.

You're a lawyer.

That's what I bought you for.

Look, you're getting top dollar.

You'd better earn it!

That's him.

Hey, mister?

Excuse me.

Ain't you the, uh, foreman

of the jury that was just picked?

For the Provitch killing?

Yeah.

I want to ask you something.

Something you wanted to, uh, ask?

No. That's... That's all right.

The one witness in the case

against Larry Coombs and Whitey Metz

had been moved to a small apartment

on the south side of Chicago.

He was being held under tight protective custody.

It's awful quiet.

Almost too quiet.

What time is it?

A little after 2:00.

You ought to relax.

No use all of us losing sleep.

You'll be out of it soon. The trial starts tomorrow.

They still got tonight.

You check the stairs?

We've checked the stairs.

But we'll check 'em again.

Let's check outside, hmm?

Hold it!

Halas never tried anything this stupid before.

Maybe he's not trying it now.

Coombs?

Maybe Halas told him he hasn't got a chance.

The trial itself seemed to bear out Ness.

Halas had been checked at every point.

The judge was notably above corruption.

The jury had been carefully screened and guarded.

The witness held under close protection.

The defense seemed to have no plan, no strategy.

The government made damaging points,

almost without objection or challenge.

On March 2, 1933, late in the afternoon,

the trial was concluded.

Confident of a quick decision, the court instructed the jury

to begin deliberations immediately.

This court is now in recess.

Take care of this.

You've done your job.

Why don't you go home?

I want to watch you take a licking for once.

No sense in turning it into a wake.

How about some casino?

Why not?

Call me, Lee.

The way they act, you'd think they liked each other.

Well, they don't.

More like respect, I'd say.

Like two good fighters climbing into a ring.

They have to respect each other.

Unless one of them wanted to get his ears knocked off.

Good deuce.

It's your lucky day, huh?

You're not scared of weight?

Why?

My old man weighed in at 250, hung around till he was 91.

91. That's a ripe old age.

Not ripe. Rotten.

He was a louse.

Every Saturday morning, he bought a bottle.

Every Saturday night, he drank me a licking.

Should have done a better job.

I wouldn't be having so much trouble with you now.

Got so I could time it.

When it was halfway down the label.

You were a fool to stand and wait for it.

I didn't.

I clobbered him with a baseball bat one night.

That's when I left.

You talk about candy.

Hey, I was the kid with his nose against the window. I...

The only thing that kept me going,

I used to say to myself, "Someday...

"Someday, I'm gonna have so much money,

"nobody will ever take it away from me.

Nobody, never!"

And now it's someday, and I got all the candy I want.

The Cavanaugh case didn't buy you much.

He was innocent.

He was broke.

You put in two years on the case,

spent your own money.

I wondered why you took it.

For laughs.

Change of pace, you might say.

What a lawyer you could have been.

What a lawyer I am.

You know how much I made last year?

200 grand. How about that?

There's more dirty money around than I thought.

Dirty?

Dirty?!

What do you know about dirt?!

What do you know about sleeping in alleys?

What do you know about fighting a rat

for an old piece of bread?

There's dirt for you. There's dirt!

Six summers working the ore boats.

Winter, tending the furnaces.

Listen, I got dirt in here I can't ever scrub it out!

I can't ever scrub it out!

Never!

What were you doing, Mr. Ness?

Dusting off some dame's chair at the junior prom?

I was out in the kitchen washing dishes.

Nobody paid my way through.

Listen.

You think it's just the money?

Well, you're wrong.

Every time I smack you down...

You and all your nice clean friends...

I'm putting clothes on a dirty kid's back,

and I'm slipping candy into his pocket.

Eliot, the jury's coming in.

Thanks.

How do we stand?

You must be way ahead.

Don't be a fool, Ness.

Never forget a score.

The accused will come forward, please.

Is the counsel for the defense here?

I'm here, Your Honor.

What?!

Your Honor, I realize

I'm violating all judicial procedure,

but certain new testimony has developed

which must vitally affect the verdict in this case.

I ask the court's indulgence only in the name of justice.

If His Honor will admit additional testimony

at this late hour.

In the name of justice, Mr. Halas.

Will Mr. Gus Kleeber step forward, please?

Your Honor, you have the wrong ones.

They didn't kill Provitch.

I killed him.

Order!

Let's have order in the court!

Bailiff, clear the court!

Get those gentlemen out!

And now, back to The Untouchables.

Still insisting that he had killed Provitch,

Gustave Kleeber was booked for murder

and remanded to the Cook County Jail.

Awaiting trial, he was assigned to the prison laundry.

All right, let's try it once more.

You say you stabbed him

and tossed the knife into the lake.

And you shot him with this gun.

That's right.

The serial number's filed off.

No way of checking it.

Where'd you get it?

I bought it from a man.

Who?

I don't remember.

You bought it and loaded it, then went and killed Provitch.

That's right.

Break it.

Break it?

Open the cylinder.

You bought it and loaded it.

You must know how to break it.

You never used that gun.

You don't know a trigger from a second baseman.

You didn't kill Provitch.

I've told you before.

I tell you again.

I killed him!

I'm ready to pay for it.

What about your family?

Do you want them to pay, too?

I have no family.

There is nobody.

Lee, I want you and Rico to start digging.

I want to know about Kleeber...

Where he lives, where he works,

what he eats, reads, and wears.

I want to know him better than his own mother.

We can start you off; he's got an attorney.

Who? Halas.

He's upstairs in the office right now

filing for an interview.

Hmm, Kleeber's traveling first class.

He can afford it.

He's not paying for it.

Pretty good, eh?

Everything the latest, the best.

I'm gonna turn out 500 cases a day.

When?

What do you mean when?

As soon as these stumblebums finish up.

I get rid of them, I start moving full speed.

When?

What do you want, a timetable?

I don't want.

Frank Nitti wants.

He said to tell you he's got commitments.

You're way behind with your promise, Larry.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,

but that lousy trial held me up, you know.

Look, look, I did Nitti a favor, right,

rubbing Ness's nose in the dirt?

Now, just tell Frank to relax.

I'm moving now.

I'll be operating full scale in a week.

I'll tell him.

Hiya, Mort.

What's eating you?

What's the matter? Kleeber's getting jumpy.

Now, what about the payoff?

Now, look, you know I've been busy.

Okay, okay, I'll take care of it today.

How much did we promise him?

Five grand, huh?

Ten.

We promised him ten and we'll give him ten.

Look, you know, I got a lot on my mind.

Okay, I'll have Whitey get the bank draft today.

What else?

What else? You'd better call Frank Nitti

and tell him the truth.

You make him a promise, you'd better keep it.

Oh, I figure to.

How?

You can't get this joint running in a week.

You haven't even got the coils yet.

I'm getting 'em. Where?

You try to buy copper coils in this town,

you'll have Ness on your back asking "What for?"

Don't worry, don't worry, he won't be on my back.

And I'll have 'em in.

When?

Tonight.

I'm getting a good bargain, too.

What have you got?

I found this letter under the lining in that drawer.

I'm late.

I had to run over to the north side.

What's up?

Somebody knocked over a distillery last night.

I'll fill you in later.

Get anything?

I don't know; I can't handle German.

Maybe Mrs. Schoenbrun can.

It is not right.

A letter is a private thing.

What if we're trying to help Mr. Kleeber?

It's from Berlin, from his father.

He was in some difficulties with the Nazis.

He is in prison.

But he talked with a vermittler, and...

A what?

Oh, a, uh...

man that stands in the middle... a...

how do you say it?

A go-between.

Yeah, someone who goes between.

His name and address are here.

And he can get the father out of prison.

And they will even shut their eyes when he crosses the border,

if the son will send money, $10,000.

This is why Herr Kleeber killed someone?

For the money?

We don't know that he killed anyone.

We just know he says he did.

Is there anything else?

Nothing else.

It just says,

"Your loving father, Heinrich Kleeber."

And underneath it says only,

"Please, my son, please."

It's very bad in Germany now.

Thank you, Mrs. Schoenbrun.

Where'd you get this?

It was under the lining in that drawer.

Yes, of course.

I know him quite well.

I've been treating him for several years.

Walter, get me this case history, will you?

Kleeber's one of our regulars.

Comes in every week when he's able to.

I saw him just a few days ago.

A nice little man.

Four years in December.

I remember how pleased we were.

We'd no right to expect it with a heart like his.

It's that bad?

Well, he's had two coronaries already.

He can't possibly survive a third.

I'm afraid the prognosis is definitely negative.

How much time would you say he had?

If you pin me down, six months at most.

I guess Kleeber could afford to sell his life.

And Coombs could afford the $10,000 to buy it.

Thank you, Doctor.

I'll walk you out. I'm due on the ward.

This goes back in the file.

Yes?

Mr. Halas?

This is Walter Horn over at the clinic, remember?

Hey, now you take it easy.

Them coils are expensive.

I just got a call from the clinic.

Ness was there.

So what?

So he finds out Kleeber's got a bum ticker.

So what's that prove, huh?

You know your trouble? You worry.

Well, when I stop, you'd better start.

Ah, come off it. Now, what's to worry about, huh?

Kleeber.

You're just jittery.

Did you send that money to Germany?

Look, I told you I would.

How much?

How much?!

Five grand.

Now look!

He's going to kick off anyway.

The whole deal ain't worth more than five grand, right?

It's worth it to me! You pull another fast one

like this and I'm out. Now is that plain enough?

I'm out... Now, listen up!

You're out when I say you're out.

And don't you forget it.

Take your hands off me.

You'd better remember something.

I'm no two-bit punk you can push around!

I'm the only odds you've got.

You walk into that court without me,

you're like a turtle without a shell.

Now, you take 'em off, huh?

And I tell you, five grand isn't worth a chance.

Suppose Kleeber finds out he's crossed?

Suppose he talks to Ness?

He ain't gonna talk.

One word, that's all it takes.

You're in the electric chair, I'm disbarred.

Just relax.

I told you, he ain't gonna talk.

Guard! Guard!

Coombs' accomplice inside the jail

was subjected to long interrogation.

He kept insisting it had been an accident.

Kleeber, had complained of feeling ill.

Apparently overcome by fumes from the bleaches,

he had lost his balance and fallen into the vat.

Facing another defeat by Coombs,

Ness got help from an unexpected source.

Ridge endings.

Cores and deltas.

Islands and dots...

Not much question it matches the file.

I'd say identification is positive.

One little print like that may be just enough

to put the skids under Coombs.

It'll be a pleasure.

Yeah, he's been working too hard anyway.

Maybe we can give him a nice, long vacation.

Thanks a lot, Charlie.

To Florida!

How many guys would Nitti call up like that, huh?

Just ring up on the phone and say,

"Hey, come on down to Florida for a week,

with the boys."

With the boys! You know what that means?

That means I'm going to be big.

Big, big.

Big like you ain't never seen big.

Too big and maybe Frank Nitti won't like it.

So what?

How big I'm going to be

won't make no difference what Nitti likes.

Ness!

You've got a lot of nerve coming in...

All right, I'll do the talking!

What do you want? Him.

Whitey?

He got a little sloppy last night.

Left his prints on a federal distillery.

What's the charge?

Breaking and entering, larceny, assault and battery...

Take your pick.

Don't you worry about a thing.

We'll have you out of there before you even know you're in!

Don't hold your breath.

"Breaking and entering."

Penny-ante stuff.

Don't sound like Ness is too busy these days.

Don't write him off.

He doesn't want Whitey, he wants you.

He'll hold him on any charge he can

and try to sweat something out of him.

About what? About Provitch, maybe.

So what can he prove if Kleeber's dead, huh?

If he's dead.

What are you talking about?

I'm on record as Kleeber's attorney.

I've had no official word of his death, all right?

You can't get away with this, Wade.

You or Eliot Ness!

What makes you think you can hold Whitey Metz?

Breaking and entering, larceny, assault and battery...

Now, they're all admissible to bail, you know that.

You know the law.

As it happens, this is not a matter of law,

it's a matter of health.

There's been some trouble at the jail.

I'm afraid that whole floor is quarantined.

What kind of trouble?

The doctors aren't quite sure.

Well, uh, since I'm here,

I can stop in and see Kleeber, huh?

I'm sorry, he had an accident.

He can't see anybody.

All right.

You can keep me away for a while,

but even the plague didn't last forever.

I'm afraid he's a long way from giving up.

He's going to keep on trying.

Till he and Coombs make a mistake.

I don't know.

He'd have to be pretty scared about Kleeber.

He is.

Not one word.

A man gets killed in jail, not one lousy word.

So that's the stinkin' newspapers we got.

Hey, come on, come on, come on.

Let's drink a toast, huh?

To Provitch.

To Provitch who made all this possible.

Wait till you see how I'm going to fix this place up... beautiful.

Get some new girls in here,

I'll triple the business Provitch did.

Hey, look, look.

Did it ever occur to you maybe Kleeber's not news?

A nobody, a nothing, no way important...

He's important to Ness.

No more, no more. He's dead!

You keep saying "he's dead."

Well, he is!

Look, he's got to be dead, right?

A guy with a bum ticker like that?

After what he got?

Did your boy see him dead?

Well, no he didn't see him dead.

What's he supposed to do, stick around and take his pulse?

But he's dead. Don't you figure nothing different, he's dead.

You understand?

So?

So I done what you said. I been asking around.

Well, so what?

The word's out.

Ness is all set to burn Whitey.

What, for breaking and entering?

For Provitch.

He's nuts. He ain't even close to a case.

I tell you, Ness has got something up his sleeve.

He's got some kind of special witness.

I don't know what he's got.

Kleeber.

There's something funny going on.

Something funny and I don't like it.

First they tell me I'm quarantined,

now, they send you in here.

And Ness, he ain't... "Ness"?

He ain't once asked me what happened the other night.

He just keeps asking me about you and Provitch.

Hey...

Hey, that's what he's holding me here for, huh?

Huh?

Sure, he don't care about that lousy breaking and entering.

He's gonna tag me for the Provitch rap.

He can't. He'd need Kleeber.

Kleeber's dead.

Suppose he ain't?

Suppose it didn't work out that way?

Now, look, you talked protection, I better get it.

'Cause I'm telling you something, and this is for sure.

If I'm going to fry, I ain't gonna fry alone.

Look, shut!

Ness is running a bluff.

You just sit tight.

Guard?

You could be right about Kleeber.

Makes sense.

Ness brings him at the right moment,

opens up the Provitch case.

Whitey's as good as in the chair.

Yeah. They pin a rap on him, I'm next.

Don't think he won't squeal.

He's ready to crack open right now.

Get him out.

Maybe I can't.

Now, look, you... you cost too much for "maybe you can't."

I had a little talk with the boys.

Anything happens to me, they're going to pay you off.

Saw your light from the street.

Working late, huh?

Just cleaning up my desk before the trial tomorrow.

You're working late, too.

I wouldn't call it work, exactly

Dropping in to talk to an old friend.

Some people wouldn't understand this.

We're on opposite sides, sure, but only in court.

Right here, right this minute, there's just the two of us.

Just one friend asking another friend for a favor.

All right, you got the jury in tears. What do you want?

Well, I can't go to Wade. I don't know how to talk to him.

Figure I've got a nice, soft ear.

What do you want, Mort?

A deal for Whitey Metz.

No deals.

Nothing big, you understand.

Nothing you can't do. We'll cop a plea.

No deals.

All right, I'll... I'll level with you, Eliot.

I'm being pressured.

I mean, I'm really in a squeeze and...

I may end up right behind the eight ball.

No deals.

"No deals."

No deals!

No feeling, no heart... Like a talking machine!

A man does what he has to do.

And how would you know why?

What do you know?

What do you care?!

As long as you chalk up another win,

you hang another scalp on your belt!

What's the difference if it happens to be mine?!

Who do you think you are, Mr. Ness?!

Who are you to decide who lives, who dies?!

Strike it from the record.

I'm sorry.

So am I.

The trial starts at 10:00.

Maybe we both better get some sleep, huh?

Maybe.

See you in court.

Good night, friend.

Looks quiet enough. What do you think?

Why ask me? It's your idea.

You're the one that keeps saying Kleeber's alive.

Give Lee and Rico a hand.

Ness!

You... you wouldn't have any candy on you, would you?

Some days you just don't have any luck at all.

Whitey Metz turned state's evidence

and was sentenced to life imprisonment.

On his testimony,

the entire Coombs Organization was apprehended.

On March 21, 1933,

Morton Halas was buried quietly, without fanfare.

There was only one mourner at the grave:

Eliot Ness.

The Untouchables.