The Naked City

Ladies and gentlemen...

the motion picture you are about to see

is called The Naked City.

My name is Mark Hellinger.

I was in charge of its production.

And I may as well tellyou frankly that it's

a bit different from most films you've ever seen.

It was written by Albert Maltz

and Malvin Wald...

photographed by William Daniels

and directed by Jules Dassin.

As you see,

we're flying over an island.

A city. A particular city.

And this is a story of a number of people -

and a story also ofthe city itself.

It was not photographed in a studio.

Quite the contrary.

Barry Fitzgerald, our star...

Howard Duff, Dorothy Hart...

Don Taylor, Ted de Corsia

and the other actors...

played out their roles on the streets,

in the apartment houses...

in the skyscrapers

of New York itself.

And along with them, a great many thousand

New Yorkers played out their roles also.

This is the city as it is.

Hot summer pavements,

the children at play...

the buildings in their naked stone...

the people, without makeup.

Well, let's begin our story this way.

It's 1:
00 in the morning

on a hot summer night...

and this is the face of New York

when it's asleep.

Or as nearly asleep as any city ever is.

Bad hunting on Wall Street at night.

No bulls. No bears.

No lambs.

A bank is a lonely place at this hour.

And even a theater has lost its magic.

A question:
Do the machines

in a factory ever need rest?

Does a ship ever feel tired?

Or is it only people

who are so weary at night?

There is a pulse to a city.

And it never stops beating.

And some people

earn their bread at night.

Sometimes I think this world

is made up of nothing but dirty feet.

It's wonderful working on a newspaper.

You meet such interesting people.

You put on a record. You take it off.

You put on another. Does anyone

listen to this program except my wife?

And while some people work...

others are rounding off

an evening of relaxation.

And still another is at the close of her life.

- Let's go.

- Don't be a fool. This has gotta be sure.

- Lift her up.

- What you gonna do?

A hot night has worked its way toward dawn.

Texas beef for New York markets.

Uncle Harry's letter gets an early start.

Everything as usual.

The morning routine.

And even this, too, can be called routine...

in a city of eight million people.

I done a lot of things...

but I never killed nobody.

I'm gonna stay drunk a long time.

I don't know what I'm gonna

say to God when my time comes.

He's got a big heart, I'm told,

but he don't like -

Thought you were off the liquor.

Liquor is bad.

Weakens your character.

How can a man like me

trust a liar like you?

I can't.

It's an hour later now. 6:00 a. m.

Some babies are 8:00 babies.

Some babies are 7:00 babies.

Why do you have to be a 6:00 baby?

? Good-bye, Paddy?

? No matter where you roam?

? Don't forget your country

or the ones you left at home?

? Write a letter now and then

and send me all you can?

? But, Paddy, dear

oh, don't forget?

? You are an Irish man?

And now it's time to go to work.

Eat and run, buddy.

- Uh, good-bye, Mrs. Halloran.

- Good-bye, Mr. Halloran.

Ah, come on, you little Indian.

On your horse.

- See ya tonight, Mac.

- So long, bud.

- Hello, Mr. Halloran.

- Hi, kids.

Gonna be a scorcher today.

Yeah. So next week,

I'll get my vacation, it'll be freezin'.

She went to Jones's Beach last night, had a picnic.

- With her boyfriend?

- Yeah.

- Did he get fresh again?

- Yeah.

Gee. She was born with a silver spoon.

For this woman, the day will not be ordinary.

Martha Swenson.

Forty-two years old. A widow.

Lives a quiet life as a houseworker.

Miss Dexter.

Yes. Yes.

What's your name, please?

Thank you.

Hello.

Hello.

The 10th Precinct Station...

is in the Chelsea District of New York.

A rather shabby building

on a rather shabby street.

Acts of violence in Manhattan

are reported to the third floor of this building.

Because here, rather quietly...

the Homicide Squad does its work.

Sometimes I wonder

what the human heart is made out of.

My wife, rest her soul...

always said she'd rather look into

a man's heart than into his head -

that you could tell more about him.

-Just came in, Captain.

- Morning, Lieutenant.

Hi, Dave.

You're free, aren't you, Dan?.

Haven't had a hard day's work

since yesterday.

- Woman drowned in a bathtub.

- Who's to do my legwork?.

- How about young Halloran again?

- All right. I like the boy.

- How's he doing?.

- He's making the same mistakes I made at his age.

That's too bad.

I thought he showed promise.

It's them! Here they come!

It's them! Here they come!

- Elevator's straight ahead, Lieutenant.

- Thanks.

- Who's on the job here?.

- Sergeant Shaeffer, 20th Squad.

- Morning, Lieutenant.

- Hi, Shaeffer. Well, what's the story?

Dead woman's name was Jean Dexter,

26 years old, unmarried.

She used to be a dress model

at Grace Hewitt's on West 57th Street.

Parents live in Lakewood, New Jersey.

The name is Batory. That's Polish.

Her name used to be Mary Batory

until she came to New York.

The ambulance doctor

said she died of drowning.

That's all I have.

- This her?

- Yeah.

Martha Swenson, the woman's housekeeper.

She found the body.

Mr. Harvey - he's the house superintendent.

He called headquarters.

- Where's the body?

- In there.

Didn't this woman

drown in a bathtub, Doctor?

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