Original subtitles

(theme music plays)

Mike.

The captain wants to see you.

(knocking)

Come in.

Well, come in, Brannon.

I did all I could for you.

I spent two hours with the front office this morning.

Two hours?

I spent 15 years on this force.

Well, our hands are tied.

I've gone to bat for you at least a dozen times.

Now, what do we got?

Another guy in the hospital, half dead.

You don't bust a guy's face just to make an arrest.

Especially if he happens to be one of

Tough Tony Lamberto's punks, huh?

Go on home, Brannon.

Go home?

Walk out of here?

Close the door on 15 years of life, just like that, huh?

One phone call, that's all it took.

Get Mike Brannon suspended, he's an honest cop,

he won't take a grease.

You know, you could have gone to bat for me.

Oh, you fat politician cop.

I said, go home.

The badge.

Brannon.

The gun.

Maybe you're doing me a favor, Captain.

Maybe I'm tired of playing cop.

Tired of rousting Lamberto's punks,

running them in for pushing dope,

pushing booze, and assault.

Tired of you sitting there.

Tired of you waiting for that phone call I know is gonna come.

Tired of you saying,

"Okay, open up the gates.

Let the rats run loose in the city.”

Look, I do my job.

I do the best I can.

I'm not their judge or their jury.

I'm a cop.

Now, get out of here

before I lock you up.

(door closes)

ANNOUNCER:

"A Fist of Five."

Starring Robert Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Frank DeKova

and Phyllis Coates.

With special guest star, Lee Marvin,

and narrated by Walter Winchell.

WALTER WINCHELL: Chicago, 1929.

The dollar value of the city's wholesale industrial trade

reached an estimated six billion dollars,

while the revenue from organized crime

totaled nearly 200 million dollars.

One of the largest machines in organized crime

operated behind this legitimate facade.

The Market Street Produce Company

received a percentage

from the top of every racket's dollar

in the south Chicago area.

The self-elected president of this front organization

clawed his way with ruthless, blood-splashed efficiency

to his throne at the top of the Chicago underworld.

His name,

Anthony "Tough Tony" Lamberto.

Often the target of rival mobs,

Tony Lamberto took no chances in his journeys across town.

He moved only in his steel-plated limousine

with the bulletproof glass,

a $30,000 chariot.

For weeks, this location had been under close observation

by federal agents.

Eliot Ness was searching

for a breakthrough of the carefully constructed wall

that Tony Lamberto

had built around his mob.

Well, Max Templar.

Must be an important shipment to bring him out of his hole.

Hey, Charlie, open up this crate.

Toss me one down.

Let's find out.

Hello, Ness.

Hey, Ness,

you like honeydew melon?

Here, be my guest.

I don't eat with pigs.

-Suit yourself. -(banging)

Hey, uh, Ness,

what do you think you're doing?

What are you looking for?

You know what we're looking for, Max.

Heroin.

No kidding.

You sure you don't want a hunk, huh?

Eliot.

Book him.

I'll be out in an hour,

maybe less.

You think I'm worried?

I got three witnesses seen some guy

stuff that package in there when I wasn't looking.

Three witnesses, Ness.

Get him out of here.

Come on.

WINCHELL: In an area of five square blocks,

on Chicago's North Side,

the four brothers of Mike Brannon worked and played.

Keir Brannon was a pool hall hustler, and a good one.

He could make 40 a week

with a glib tongue and a steady hand.

Mike needed him.

That was all Keir had to know.

(groaning)

WINCHELL: Next up, around the corner, a gym.

A place for Depression-weary men

to work off their steam.

Clarence Brannon had tried professional wrestling,

but in the days of Strangler Lewis, he had failed.

A word from brother Mike

and he, too, fell in line.

The baby of the family, Denny,

took home a paycheck

of $16 a week.

He gave ten to his mother

and threw away the rest on double features

and gifts for his girl.

Denny Brannon took a merciless kidding.

It was beginning to look like

he would be the first

of the Brannon boys to marry.

Last stop,

a garage and brother Sean,

a mechanic with the touch of a surgeon.

Within an hour of his dismissal from the force,

Mike Brannon

had gathered his clan.

What's the matter, Mike?

Oh, nothing. Look, Stein's Delicatessen's

just around the corner.

What do you say we go get a load of stuff,

and we surprise Mom with a grand party, huh?

-You scared the life out of me. -(everyone laughs)

Let me get washed up.

Take it easy. (laughs)

-(music playing) -(laughter)

Come on, Ma! You're doing great!

(music stops)

What's, what's the matter, Mike?

Just time you were going to bed, Ma.

But there's still the dishes to be done.

Oh, that's all right, Ma.

I'll clean up after they go.

Oh, thank you, Denny.

Oh, it's such a long time since I had all of you together.

Just a teeny bit longer, Michael.

Now, now, you know you need your rest.

Oh, well, we'll do it again soon, huh?

Good night, you.

(laughs) Oh!

-Good night, Mom. -Night night.

I'll see you in the morning, Denny.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Now, mind you, don't kill all that Irish whiskey

-while my back's turned. -Now, stop that.

Good night, Mother.

Mike...

come here a minute, will you?

What's the matter?

Mike, there's been a strange look in your eye all night,

I know it.

Whatever it is you have in mind,

be it with God's blessing, Son.

Oh.

Good night, Mother.

What's the matter, Mike?

Ma was having a good time.

I got something to say.

And when I'm through, we can talk it over.

To us.

You remember when we was kids?

Wasn't a gang on the South Side that could take us.

Nobody pushed us around because we stuck together.

So, what happens?

We grow up, we split up,

now everybody's pushing us around.

Nobody pushes me around, Mike.

Aw, come on, Clarence. What are you,

a world's champ or something?

You go down to that dump

once a week and get your brains knocked out

for a lousy $20.

Same with the rest of you.

Denny,

you want to get married, huh?

So how are you gonna support Laurie?

Where you gonna get the money?

Welding junk in a sweatshop?

And Keir...

you satisfied with hustling for nickel and dimes

for the rest of your life?

How many other guys' cars you fix, Sean?

You ain't even got one of your own.

Now, we're all in the same boat.

Today, I got suspended from the force.

And you know why?

"Cause I leaned on

one of Tough Tony Lamberto's punks.

There were two clean blocks in that South Side,

my two blocks, my beat.

Only Tough Tony didn't like that.

I stood up against him all by myself.

So how long's Tough Tony been putting his hand in, huh?

Shaking down the little guy.

Well, he's worth millions now.

So once, just once

we're gonna put our hand in.

This one.

And when we take it out,

it's gonna be with a hundred and fifty grand,

and nobody gets hurt.

How, Mike, huh?

I mean, uh, how are we gonna get our hands on that much dough?

Yeah, how?

Easy.

One guy's gonna get that dough for us.

Just by making a phone call.

One guy.

Tony Lamberto.

I thought you might like to know about it, Eliot.

We've got Tony where it hurts this time: income tax evasion.

The hearing is set for a week from today.

You make it stick?

The Internal Revenue Service has sufficient evidence

for a conviction.

You don't seem to be doing any cartwheels.

So Lamberto gets nailed.

Survival of the fittest, Beecher.

There's always somebody else waiting to sit in,

pick up his hand.

I take it you're not making any headway

with the Market Street Produce Company.

Sure, we made a half dozen arrests

in the past few weeks.

Five minutes after we book them, they're sprung.

They stay sprung with sworn affidavits

from a parade of witnesses that would turn your stomach.

Thanks, Beecher.

Think I'll go home, if I still have one.

I don't blame you.

Who do they think they are?

You're gonna get me outta this, Virtel.

I don't care how much it costs. You're gonna fix it.

I can't fix it, Tony.

Not this time. Not when it's federal.

Eh, you can get to them guys just like anybody else.

They'll take a grease if it's big enough.

No, Tony, these people you can't buy.

Oh? So what am I gonna do?

I don't know.

You don't know?

What do you think I'm paying you a $50,000 a year retainer for?

To tell me you don't know?

I got news for you, Virtel,

I ain't gonna spend ten years in no federal cell.

I'll do what I can for you in court.

(raspy laughter)

You're gonna do what you can for me in court?

There ain't gonna be no court.

Now get out.

Get out!

Tony?

I'm sorry you had to hear, Angie.

WINCHELL: Three years before,

Tony Lamberto married for the first time.

His wife, former showgirl Angela Carney,

had lost the use of her legs

in the bombing of a Chicago speakeasy

while seated at a table with Tony.

The bomb had been meant for him.

(sighing)

Ah, Tony, hold me like this just a minute.

(chuckling)

Angie, I been thinking.

You know a guy can only go so long,

so I been thinking

maybe it's time I got out.

You know, retire.

Do you mean it, Tony?

Sure, why not?

This ain't no kinda life for you being cooped up in here,

a bunch of loudmouths running in and out all the time.

Angie?

In the town where I come from, back in the old country,

there's a house that stands on a hill,

green lawns, gardens.

It used to belong to the richest man in the whole province.

Now I'm the richest man, Angie.

I can buy it for us.

Would you like that?

Oh, yes, Tony, I'd love it.

You're sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

Okay, then that's the way it's gonna be.

(laughing)

Now, you better get some sleep.

Tony, I'm not the least bit tired...

Now, you do what I say.

All right.

A couple of things I have to take care of first.

Good night, Tony.

Good night,

carissima mia.

Good night.

Information?

I want the number of a Mr. Eliot Ness.

Right.

(door closing)

(footsteps passing)

Where are you going off to at this time of the evening?

Just for a walk, Ma.

By yourself?

Good night, Ma.

Now don't be too late.

No, I won't.

Denny? Denny?

Denny?

Oh...

Got home from work early today.

You didn't quit this job.

Well, what kind of a job was it?

You work two days, then you're off three or four weeks.

What good was it?

What was it getting us?

Let's get married.

Let's get married right now.

With what?

I don't know. I don't even care.

(steam hissing)

You believe what them guys say, Ness,

about, uh, steam being healthy for you?

It makes your skin breathe good?

You didn't ask me down here

to talk about your health program, Lamberto.

How do you know?

After all, I'm not a kid anymore.

Maybe I ain't been breathing so good, Ness.

What do you want?

What if I were to give you

something you been looking for a long time:

The Market Street Brothers Company.

What do I give you?

I just want to get out,

but I want to get out clean.

You can fix it so I don't do no time on that income tax rap.

I pay the government what I owe

and get deported from the country.

You know I can't make that kind of a deal.

How long you been trying to bust up my operation, Ness?

You're nowhere and you know it.

Talk to them big shots in Washington.

Tell them what Tony Lamberto's got for them.

They'll listen to you, Ness.

All right, I'll see what I can do.

It'll take a few days.

I come up for the hearing on Friday morning.

Why don't you meet me here

Thursday morning about 10:00 and let me know.

And Ness,

you know Tony Lamberto don't forget people who do him favors.

Better get one thing straight, Lamberto,

I'm not doing you any favors.

All I want to do is close down the books

on that produce company.

What are you talking about, books?

You know Tony Lamberto don't keep no books.

I know.

WINCHELL: Three days after

the Brannon family reunion,

the plan to get rich was well underway.

Tony Lamberto was a man of routine.

He carried on his functions

as president of his front organization

with an unvarying time schedule.

This schedule was carefully recorded by Keir Brannon

who had taken a hotel room

across from the syndicate headquarters.

He eats there about 7:00.

About 8:00, 8:15, a car picks him up in front.

Now, it's the same routine every night,

down to Third Avenue to 110th Street

to that produce company on Market.

He's there maybe ten minutes,

then he makes it fast back to the apartment.

Mike, uh, when are we gonna do it, huh?

Tonight.

(siren blares)

-Tell me. -I was only doing 55.

Oh, pay the guy off.

Here's a $20 bill, cop.

(gunshots)

All right, hold it, Lamberto!

Don't turn around.

You don't know me,

but I know you, big shot.

All right, let's go.

Come on, get him to the car.

Nobody gets hurt, huh?

All that time, you had it planned this way.

Denny, he was a nothing, a two-bit punk.

Come on, Denny, we got work to do.

Nobody gets hurt.

ANNOUNCER: And now, back to The Untouchables.

WINCHELL: The weekly meeting

of the top mobsters of Lamberto's rackets empire

had been set for 9:00 sharp.

Tough Tony Lamberto was never late.

Almost never.

I don't like it.

Tony's never this late.

Maybe the Feds are sitting on him.

Maybe they were afraid

he was gonna jump on that income tax rap.

Maybe he jumped already and isn't even in Chicago.

Nah, nah, I already checked.

Angie's still at the apartment.

He wouldn't go anywhere without her.

(phone rings)

Hello?

Augie...

I got a friend wants to talk to you.

Talk.

(panting quietly)

-I said talk! -(grunts)

(panting over phone)

MIKE: Come on.

(panting)

Augie...

this is... this is Tony.

Where are you, Tony?

Some guys...

knocked over my car.

They got me...

locked up in some rabbit hole.

They want...

150 grand for me.

(shouting): Listen, Augie, you gotta...

(Mike grunts)

(grunts)

You've got until tomorrow to get the money,

and somebody better be at that phone at exactly 12:00 noon

to pick up the delivery instructions,

or Tony Lamberto is dead.

-(punch lands) -(grunts)

How's it feel, big shot, to have somebody walk on you?

(panting): I'm gonna...

find out who you guys are, you hear that?

And when I do...

they're gonna have to mail you in...

you punks.

Pound him.

(grunts)

(punches landing, grunting)

Let him alone.

Cut it out!

Where are you going?

To get some fresh air.

(door opens)

(door closes)

You didn't tell him you were gonna kill anybody.

How did you think he was gonna feel?

How did you think any of us were gonna feel?

You said we'd pick up Lamberto,

hold him for a couple of days, and we're all gonna be rich.

Well, maybe Denny doesn't want to be rich anymore.

Maybe I don't want to be rich anymore.

You think we're playing a game?

You think they wouldn't kill you?

Well, we got him.

And we're going through with it, just as planned.

WINCHELL: As agreed, Eliot Ness had kept his 10:00 appointment

in a downtown Chicago steam room.

-What'd he say? -He didn't say anything.

-What do you mean? -I mean he didn't show.

That's funny. You'd think he'd want to know

what they said in Washington.

-Maybe he changed his mind about making a deal. -Maybe.

Rico, you and Bill start asking around,

-see if you can get a line on him. -Okay.

Rico, it might be better if it didn't get around

-we're looking for him, huh? -Right.

WINCHELL: Eliot Ness contacted the one person

Tony Lamberto would have confided in

had there been a change in plans: his wife.

A meeting was arranged for that afternoon in a city park,

down the street from Angela Lamberto's hotel.

-Mrs. Lamberto. -Mr. Ness.

I don't quite understand what all this... mystery's about.

You told me on the phone

your husband didn't come home last night,

that you hadn't heard from him.

Tony often goes out of town overnight, on business.

He doesn't tell you when he's going to be gone overnight?

Why are you trying to find Tony?

He was supposed to meet me this morning.

I had an important message for him; he didn't show up.

Do you think something's happened to him?

It's possible.

We've had a city-wide alert out for his car since this morning.

So far, we haven't found it.

Mrs. Lamberto...

do you know where he is?

I know how long you've tried to destroy my husband.

Do you really think I'd tell you anything?

Mr. Ness, Tony and I have a good marriage.

And I believe in the vow I took to honor him.

Good-bye.

(ringing)

WINCHELL: At exactly 12:00 noon, the telephone call

that was to have outlined delivery instructions

of the money arrived at the Syndicate headquarters.

(ringing continues)

Because nobody had picked up the telephone

at Syndicate headquarters as ordered,

an angry Mike Brannon

took positive action to force their hand.

Mike knew that Syndicate lieutenant Max Templar

was a nightly patron of the Embassy Club,

a speakeasy only a few blocks from the beat

that he had formerly patrolled as a cop.

(ringing)

Hello?

Let me tell you something.

You guys are making a big mistake.

We ain't paying nothing! Nothing!

Well, come on, Augie, what's the story?

They got Max. They want a ten dollar bill for him,

to let us know they mean business.

I told you we should've paid off, Augie.

For what? Feds are gonna put Tony on ice for maybe ten years.

Why should we pay off?

You think Tony'd come up with 150 grand if it was one of us?

What are we gonna do about Max?

Ten dollar bill!

Them punks are running a bluff.

We're gonna do nothing.

We're gonna wait.

We're just gonna wait.

Meanwhile, Federal agents were interrogating known tipsters

in the hope that one of them

could shed some light on the mystery

surrounding Tony Lamberto's sudden disappearance.

Honest, Mr. Ness, I... ain't heard nothing.

(chuckles) I didn't even know he was missing.

-Get him out of here. -Let's go.

(phone rings)

Hello. Ness.

However, a lead came from an unexpected source

when Eliot Ness got a telephone call from the harbormaster.

Thanks, I'll be right down.

What are you so nervous about, Manny?

Think you're gonna be next?

Those guys don't want bookkeepers.

Bookkeepers got no money.

(phone rings)

Yeah?

Come on. Come on, Manny.

They're still down there-- let's get 'em!

No.

Says where they want the 150 grand dropped off.

You know something?

I'm gonna pay those guys.

-I thought you said that... -Yeah, I know, I know.

Maybe I changed my mind.

WINCHELL: The telephone call from the harbormaster

took the Untouchables to the 14th Street Pier,

where a coal barge had snarled its anchor

on something beneath the water.

A police car containing a body was brought to the surface.

The body was identified as Alfred Monk Kolcheck,

Tony Lamberto's driver.

He was shot at close range, looked like a .38 slug.

Did you get a trace on the police car?

Not a police car, Mr. Ness.

Someone just did a good job of making it look like one.

They checked the license plates out.

It was reported stolen in front of a theater

on State Street three days ago.

We didn't find anything else in the car, but if you'd like

-to take a look before we tow it out of here... -Thanks.

Why would they use a phony police car?

It'd take a cannon to stop Lamberto's car.

Can you think of a better way

of forcing his driver over to the curb?

Well, that makes sense.

Lee, if you were in the market for one,

where would you go to buy a siren?

I don't know.

You can't just pick one up in a dime store.

Well, it looks real enough.

It'd say it's been around a while, though.

There's a serial number on it.

0-7-3-2-2.

Through the purchasing agent at the Central Precinct,

Eliot Ness learned that the siren had formally been affixed

to a police car assigned to the 14th Precinct.

Yeah, well, that car's out of commission.

It's in the lot out back.

But the minute I found out why you were tracing that siren,

I knew who your man was.

He's a man who developed a blind hatred for Tony Lamberto.

He's a man we recently dismissed from the force.

He was back here the other day, cleaning out his locker.

Has he got a name?

Yeah.

Mike Brannon.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Everything's set.

We got a blanket over the whole area.

You want us to blast 'em when they show?

Nah. Just follow them.

I want to get them all.

And, Carmen, nobody's gonna be too sore if...

Tony should just happen to stop one of them slugs.

Might even be a little bonus in it

for the guy that made that kind of mistake.

♪♪

♪♪

Mrs. Brannon?

Yes?

Federal officers.

Like to talk to you.

Well, won't you come in?

(car door closing)

Well?

They didn't show.

What are you talking about?

We got a man on every corner; nobody showed.

That means they got to be some place

between here and Third Avenue.

Find them.

♪♪

♪♪

Mike?

Yeah, open up.

You got it, huh?

Yeah, take a look at that.

-You sure it's all there? - It better be.

Hey, where's Denny?

He went to see Laurie.

He what? I told him to stay here.

He'll be back in a couple of minutes.

(vehicle approaching)

Get him in the car.

Mike!

It's Denny!

Get back!

Denny!

Sean, get behind the wheel.

(gunshots)

(gunshots)

Hold it!

(gunshots)

Call an ambulance.

I was going there.

I was going to tell them...

I was going...

to tell them

that I didn't want the money.

The...

Denny?

Denny, don't close your eyes.

Please, Denny.

Ma Brannon, don't let him go.

(sobbing) Please don't.

We have to talk to Denny for a minute.

Come on.

(quietly) Come on.

(door closes)

Mrs. Brannon, would you like to wait outside?

They're me sons, Mr. Ness.

Me sons.

Denny, I have a question to ask you.

Two of your brothers are still alive.

They abandoned the car where Third Avenue dead-ends.

We have the entire area staked out, but we can't find them.

We want to take them alive if we can, Denny.

Do you have any idea where they might be hiding?

Captain's...

Tunnel.

The sewer.

They used to play there when they were little boys.

Thanks.

Thanks, Denny.

♪♪

Mike...

Mike, they got the east blocked off, too, Mike.

NESS: Brannon!

Federal officers.

You're blocked off.

We got men at both ends; come on out.

All right, let's go, come on.

Get up.

(gunshots)

Come on, kid.

Ness!

You want Ness, huh?

You go to Ness.

Ness?

Don't shoot, Ness.

It's me, Tony.

Hold your fire.

(gunshots)

(gun clicking)

(panting)

You know, I...

I never did find out what them guys in Washington said.

They said no, Tony.

No deal.

It figures.

Hey, how do you like

what them crummy pals of mine tried to do to me?

I'll fix them for that.

Hey, Ness?

Remember...

Remember I told you I...

I didn't keep no books?

Well, I did.

Want you... I want you to go to Angie.

Tell her...

Tell her I said to give you

that special set Manny kept for me.

She'll know.

Oh.

-Ness? -Yeah?

Give her a message.

Tell her I love her.

Take it easy, Brannon.

Why didn't you finish it?

Now, Brannon.

We got a special seat reserved for you.

WINCHELL: The presentation of Tough Tony Lamberto's

special set of books in a federal court

resulted in the conviction of all of the officers

in his rackets organization.

Mike Brannon was indicted for kidnapping and murder.

The state arranged for him to be buried

beside his brothers.