San Francisco Page #3

We want you to let us run you

for Supervisor.

- What?

- That's right, Blackie.

The only way to get some decent

fire regulations on the Coast...

is to force them

through the Board of Supervisors.

And you're the only man on the Coast

with the...

- Authority.

- To do it.

Sure, and there's nobody else

crazy enough to fight...

lxnay, shut up.

- Yeah, and maybe I'm not, either.

- I think it's a great idea.

- Hello, Father, good morning.

- Hello.

Why, certainly. It's dynamite.

Supervisor Norton.

Why, it'll get the joint

a million dollars' worth of publicity.

- Well, what do you say?

- Where you gonna get the dough from?

We'll back you, Blackie.

- That's right.

- Up to the limit.

- Father Mullin, you speak to him.

- You like a fight, Blackie. Go on.

- Have you all gone crazy?

- I can't do anything with him.

I've been trying for 20 years.

Maybe you fellas can.

- So long. Good luck.

- Bye, Tim.

Well, Blackie, what about it?

- Come over to the bar. Let's have a drink.

- All right.

Can you imagine what that chesty

Nob Hill guy is going to say...

...since there won't be any competition.

- Mr. Norton, I tell you what.

The next boy my Maria give to me,

I name him Blackie after you.

Oh, name the next half-dozen after him.

You think it won't be a battle?

Say, he'll have all of Nob Hill

floating around him like bees.

No, I think you fellas have all gone crazy.

- Oh, Mr. Norton.

- Yes? What is it?

May I have that job?

- Well, didn't I say so?

- Yes.

Well, how many times

do you want me to say it?

Come on around here. Come on.

- What will you have, boys?

- Make mine a little whiskey.

- Whiskey.

- Whiskey. That's good.

Open your Golden Gate

You let no stranger wait

Outside your door

- Hiya, gentlemen.

- What'll you have to drink, Mat?

San Francisco

Some chloroform.

- Water for me.

- Water?

Here's looking at you, Blackie.

Gentlemen, thank you.

Other places only make me

Love you best

- Ain't she singing kind of slow, Blackie?

- Yeah.

Hope you ain't gone and signed her up.

Why? So you can grab her off

for your joint?

Wait a minute. What do you think

I'm running here, a funeral parlor?

But, Blackie, with a voice like hers,

it ain't so easy to...

Go on, go on. Get out.

Give it this.

Put something into it. Heat it up.

- That's what it's about, San Francisco.

- Oh, but I can't sing like that, Mr. Norton.

Well, that's the way you're going to sing...

or you're not going to sing it for Blackie.

Hey, Mat.

- Go tell Babe to dig up a contract.

- A contract?

Yeah. I'd better sign that girl up

before I change my mind.

Change your mind? Well, you've lost it.

I'd like to see Burley's face

when he hears about it.

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