Side Street

New York City.

An architectural jungle | where fabulous wealth...

...and the deepest squalor | live side by side.

New York, the busiest, the loneliest, | the kindest and the cruelest of cities.

I live here and work here.

My name is Walter Anderson.

I'm one of an army of 20,000...

...whose job is to protect the citizens | in this city of 8 million.

So 24 hours a day, | you'll find our men on Park Avenue...

...Times Square...

...Central Park...

...Fulton Market...

...the subway.

Three hundred and eighty new citizens | are being born today...

...in the city of New York.

One hundred and sixty-four couples | are being married.

One hundred and ninety-two persons | will die.

Twelve persons will die violent deaths...

...and at least one of them | will be a victim of murder.

A murder a day, every day of the year.

And each murder | will wind up on my desk.

Which of these people | will be the victims?

Which will be the killers?

New York is all things and all places | gathered into one community.

Every problem | that troubled a man's heart...

...every dream | that ever stirred his blood is here.

For this city, like any other, | is the sum of its people...

...with their frailties, | hopes, fears, dreams.

This one, does he secretly long | to recapture his vanished youth?

And this one, a part-time letter carrier, | dreaming of the unattainable:

A fur coat for his wife.

These, are they tragedy or comedy?

This man looks troubled. | He has a problem.

Might be helpful to a policeman | to know the details...

...of some of the problems | that walk the streets of New York.

Beautiful day, Mr. Lorrison.

Thirty thousand. | That's quite a sizeable sum.

- But you came to the right place. | - All in hundred-dollar bills.

Yes, sir. | I'll have them for you in a moment.

There's a story in each of them.

This is New York...

...where two persons living 20 feet apart | may never meet.

Where the passing of a casual stranger...

...may start a drama | that irretrievably alters a life.

- Hello, Joe. | - Hi.

They act like they got nothing else to do.

Like they never saw a street | dug up before.

You know, Charlie, | maybe they got too much to do.

That's why they stop.

Takes your mind off things.

Gives you a breather.

Five more years, | I'm gonna take a real breather.

Thirty years, one job, too long.

The missus and me gonna go down | to Florida when the pension's due.

Kids all grown up, we ought to | be able to get by on half pay.

No.

No Florida for me.

First stop's gonna be Paris.

Then I wanna show Ellen around | Rome, Naples. The museums, the works.

You know what I'm gonna do, Charlie?

I'm gonna get Ellen one of those | mink coats. Not the short kind.

One of those long, fluffy models.

Long enough | to sweep the Paris sidewalks.

- That's powerful whiskey you drink. | - Ha-ha.

Ah. So long, Charlie. | Gotta get through early.

Go see if my yacht's finished.

Everything's gonna be all right, baby. | Hold it.

Good morning.

Let it lay.

We just had a visitor. | No, no, no, just the mailman.

Now, don't worry, baby. | Just do what I told you...

...and our friend Lorrison | won't give you trouble.

I am worried.

I'm scared to death.

What would happen if Lorrison...?

But of course I do, honey.

Why do you think | I'm going through with this?

All right.

How soon are you sending George over?

All right, Vic.

But when this is over, | let's get away from here.

Wherever you say, Lucky. | Havana, Miami, anyplace.

You name it and we'll do it.

I'll, uh, catch up with you later.

Havana, Miami, by way of the East River.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes