*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to Oct 13. Use Contact Us, above, for submissions.

*Heywood Gould is the author of 9 screenplays including "Rolling Thunder," Fort Apache, The Bronx," Boys From Brazil," and "Cocktail."

EMPIRES OF CRIME/Part 7/Booze And Billions  By Heywood Gould

ACT FOUR/Part 1
   
EXT. DELANCEY STREET. DAY

A balmy spring day. The streets teem with  IMMIGRANT HUMANITY.Tom Dewey, sweating in
a black suit, is speaking earnestly to a group of PEDDLERS, who keep shouting him down.

                            TOM
              Look, give me a chance.
              I’ve come all the way
              downtown to convince you
              people that Republican
              is not a dirty word.

Moans and groans.

                            OLD PEDDLER
              Take off your coat, have a
              cold drink. It’s a long
              subway back ride up town.

                            TOM
              Honest government will
              put money in your pockets.
              It will provide for your
              families. Insure a better
              future for your children.
              You don’t have to accept
              intimidation or threats.
              You don’t have to pay off
              every cop or thug. This is
              a free country...

                           PUSHCART PEDDLER
              For the rich.

                           TOM
              For you, too. You can
              change things. Your vote
              counts.

                           OLD PEDDLER
              I know, I voted four times
              last week. Fifty cents a
              vote.

                           TOM
              I understand your cynicism.
              But we have laws that
              protect your right to do
              business without bribery or
              corruption...

                            PUSHCART PEDDLER
              There’s our protection...

ACROSS THE STREET

Charley and his boys, Davey, Vito and Albert, are back slapping,
shaking hands, flipping coins to the kids.

                             TOM
              Who can Luciano protect
              you from?

                             PUSHCART PEDDLER
              From Luciano, who else?

Everyone laughs.

                              OLD PEDDLER
              When we need money, your
              upstanding Republicans at
              the bank won’t lend it to
              us. So we borrow from
              Charley Luciano...

                              TOM
              And he makes you pay it
              back twenty cents on the
              dollar.

                              PUSHCART PEDDLER
              Maybe, but he comes through
              with the cash, no questions
              asked.

                             FISHMONGER
              Business is done in a
              different way down here, Mr.
              Dewey. You won’t change that.

INT. ARNOLD ROTHSTEIN'S BILLIARD ROOM. NIGHT.

Leather and dark wood. The valet serves drinks on a silver tray.
Meyer watches, cue in hand as AR is circles the table.

                            ROTHSTEIN
              Two to one I make the nine
              ball in the corner, off two
              cushions into the side,
              Meyer.

                             MEYER
              I wouldn't give you odds
              if you said the balls were
              gonna roll in by themselves,
              AR.

Rothstein laughs and turns to Charley, who is sitting on the
couch with Rabinowitz, the union organizer.

                             ROTHSTEIN
              And if I laid a hundred to
              one that I could get
              Weinberg and the Dairy
              Owners Association to offer
              the truck drivers a raise to
              a dollar an a half an hour..?

                             CHARLEY
              I’d never bet against you,
              AR.

                             ROTHSTEIN
              Smart boy, I already fixed it.
              Just waiting for you to sign
              on the dotted line, Mr.
              Rabinowitz.

                             RABINOWITZ
              What do I do to get this raise?

                             ROTHSTEIN
              Lepke and Gurrah Shapiro have
              been very helpful in these
              negotiations.

                             RABINOWITZ
              They’re the bosses’ goons.

                             MEYER
              So make ‘em vice presidents.
              Then they’ll be the union’s
              goons.

                             CHARLEY
              All you gotta do is raise
              the dues a dollar a month
              and kick it back to Lepke.

                             RABINOWITZ
              I’m gonna be the front man
              while the gangsters control
              the union.

                             MEYER
              You wanna get more money
              for your members, don’t
              you?
               (offers a wad of bills)
              Don’t worry, the front
              man don’t get left out in
              the cold.

                             CHARLEY
              Gotta take bribes, kid.
              People get nervous dealin’
              with an honest man. Gotta
              be a crook if you want’em
              to trust you.

Rabinowitz senses the subtle threat. He takes the money.

INT. WAREHOUSE. NIGHT.

A CRAP GAME. HIGH ROLLERS  shoving, shouting, throwing money
down. Meyer, watches the stickman handle thousands of dollars.
Charley, in a dark suit with a yellow and black handkerchief
peeking out of the breast pocket, plays the host, smiling and
backslapping, but always with a cold eye on the action. Benny,
groomed and dapper, flirts with the DEBS at the door. Meyer
takes a stack of bills off the craps table. The other two
gravitate toward him and they walk toward the office.

                             MEYER
              We’re up over fourteen
              G’s.

                             BENNY
              AR’s gotta be happy with
              that.

                             MEYER
              That don’t even cover
              expenses. You know how much
              he gives out?

                             CHARLEY
              He don’t tell nobody.

                             MEYER
              He don’t have to. Do the
              numbers. He controls four
              hundred pool rooms in New
              York, takin’ bets, sellin’
              lotteries. Each one pays
              three hundred a month to
              the local cops. Five
              hundred crap games, each
              payin’ a hundred and fifty,
              two hundred card joints,
              hundred fifty a month.
              Twenty fancy casinos for
              the carriage trade. Five
              hundred a month to stay in
              business.

                             CHARLEY
              My head’s achin’ from all
              this arithmetic.

                             MEYER
              Two hundred and thirty
              five G’s a year to the
              cops just to stay in
              business. And whaddya
              think he gives the District
              Leader and Assemblyman?

                             CHARLEY
              Marrone, AR’s got the whole
              city fixed.

INT. OFFICE. NIGHT.
The three enter a cramped, windowless room. At a desk, a
BOOKKEEPER in a green eyeshade is counting money. In the corner
RED LEVINE, a hulking, red headed hood is playing solitaire.
Lansky picks up a stack of bills, tied with a rubber band.

                             MEYER
              What’s the count?

                             BOOKKEEPER
              Thirty nine hundred in
              twenties...Without removing
              the rubber band, Lansky
              riffles the bills.

                             MEYER
              Thirty-eight sixty....

                             BOOKKEEPER
              I counted those bills three
              times...

Benny cuffs him in the back of the head.

                             BENNY
              Whaddya arguin’...

Meyer throws the stack back at him.

                             MEYER
              I told ya: put the twenties
              in four hundred dollar piles,
              twenty bills to a stack.
              Fives, fifty, singles a
              hundred. Charley yanks
              Levine’s tie loose and begins
              to retie it.

                             CHARLEY
              You know what a gavone is?
              You walk around like a slob
              you don’t represent me.

                             MEYER
                (to the Bookkeeper)
              Get the numbers right to
              the penny. Treat my money
              with the respect it
              deserves...

                             BOOKKEEPER
              Your money. I thought it
              was Rothstein’s.

                             MEYER
              Some of it. But none of
              it’s yours, remember
              that.

Benny cuffs him again.

                             BENNY
              Yeah. You got a future...

The boys walk out, laughing.

INT. ROTHSTEIN’S CASINO. NIGHT.
A festive, glittering cross section of New York night life.
SOCIALITES in evening clothes, GAMBLERS, POLITICIANS, SHOWGIRLS.
Rothstein circulates, gladhanding, signing chits.

CHARLEY, MEYER AND BENNY

enter and walk cockily to the back, stopping to laugh and
back slap at a few tables before reaching Rothstein.

                             ROTHSTEIN
              Hey boys, did we break even?

Meyer whispers a figure.

                             ROTHSTEIN (CONT'D)
              Any winners? Always gotta
              send one sucker home happy.
              Stick around I got a big
              surprise.

At his signal a JAZZ BAND strikes up and marches out, followed
by WAITERS carrying buckets of champagne, Rothstein mounts a
roulette table and announces:

                             ROTHSTEIN (CONT'D)
              Bar’s open, kids. Eat, drink
              and be merry for  tomorrow
              we’ll be dry.

                             BENNY
              Somebody’s birthday?

                             ROTHSTEIN
              Yeah, ours.

He holds up the front page of the New York Times. VOLSTEAD ACT
PASSES. ALCOHOL DECLARED ILLEGAL. The Daily News: THE PARTY’S
OVER... ALCOHOL DECLARED ILLEGAL..

                             ROTHSTEIN
              The geniuses in Washington
              just passed the Volstead
              Act. As of midnight tonight
              alcohol consumption is  
              illegal in the US of A.
              Know what that means?

                             MEYER
              A lotta sober people in
              the morning.

                             ROTHSTEIN
                 (pouring champagne)
              Not for long. Look at these
              people. You think they’re
              gonna stop drinkin’ because
              Congress says so? They’re
              gonna drink even more. And
              we’re gonna give ‘em all
              they want.
                      (toasting)
              Here’s to our leaders in
              Washington. They just
              handed the whole country
              over to us.

INT. REPUBLICAN CLUB. NIGHT.

A celebration. Champagne corks are popping. The normally dour
Republicans are toasting each other. Tom is standing off to the
side watching with disapproval. A YOUNG REPUBLICAN offers him a
glass.

                            YOUNG REPUBLICAN
              C’mon Tom, have your last
              legal cocktail.

                            TOM
              I’m not much of a drinker.
              Guess I won’t miss it.

                            YOUNG REPUBLICAN
              You won’t have to. I’ve got
              three cases of scotch in the
              basement. And I’ve got a guy
              who’ll get us all we want...

                            TOM
              Who’s this guy?

                            YOUNG REPUBLICAN
                       (with a wink)
              You know. A friend of Arnold
              Rothstein’s.

                            PORTLY REPUBLICAN
              C’mon boy crack open another
              case of that French seltzer
              water...

Tom sees the irony.

                            TOM
              So we’re all going to
              end up making the gangsters
              rich.

                            YOUNG REPUBLICAN
              Richer my boy... A lot richer.

END Part 1/Act Four

Next: Part 8/Part 2/Act Four: Taking Control

In a new department the Daily Event will reoffer some of these
scripts. Read them and decide: would you like to have seen this
movie?

Our first script is EMPIRES OF CRIME. Seven years in development
it is a six part mini-series commissioned by a broadcast network
and later reacquired by a cable station.

The story is about the founders of Organized Crime, Meyer
Lansky, and "Lucky" Luciano, their fifty year partnership and
the empire they created. Their friendships and families, lives
and loves. It is also about their implacable enemy Thomas Dewey,
a young Republican attorney who built a political career
prosecuting the Mob that propelled him to the NY Governor's
Mansion and almost to the White House.

*For Introduction with submission guidelines go to Oct 13
Use Contact Us, above, for submissions.