The Tijuana Story (1957) - full transcript

Tijuana is a city ridden with crime, vice and corruption, with the local Mexican mob stopping anyone who attempts to clean up the city. However, the mob meets its match when it is ...

[Narrator] Just south
of the California line

in Old Mexico is the
border town of Tijuana.

(soft music)

In 1956, the time of this shocking story,

it lured more 12 million
American visitors;

servicemen and aircraft
workers from nearby San Diego,

teenagers and wealthy visitors

from Pasadena, Hollywood,
and Beverly Hills.

They came mainly because of the knowledge

that in this one sleepy village,

they could find anything they wanted.

For Tijuana, whose name
oddly enough meant Aunt Jane,

had become one of the
frankest, gaudiest, sin towns

in the world.
(gentle instrumental music)

In the day time, Avenida
Revolucion, the main stem,

provided tourists with
glittering souvenir shops,

the smell of leather belts and sandals,

and tacos and enchiladas,
novelty photographs,

and where it runs into
the highway to Ensenada,

the bullfights,
(crowd cheering)

and the races.
(bright music)

At night, it offered the jai alai games.

But, later, another kind of inducement:

girlie shows.
(excited music)

Ones more private.
(slow music)

(seductive music)

(sinister music)



Sin offered at bargain-basement prices,

but sometimes turning
out to be more costly.

There were men on both sides of the border

who wanted to see Tijuana cleaned up.

But when the chips were down,

there was only one man willing to wage war

against the Vice Lords
and their trigger men,

a Tijuana newspaperman
named Manuel Acosta Mesa.

- Papa, Papa!
(dramatic music)

Enrique is fighting with some men outside!

- Back to your room, Paul, quick!

(shouting in foreign language)
(intense music)

What happened?

- (heavily breathing) I was coming home

and caught them painting
this on the house.

- You all right now?

(speaking in foreign language)

- This was another in a series
of attempts by the mobsters

to silence Manuel.

(speaking in foreign language)
they called him, trader.

(sinister music)

(dramatic music)

My name is Paul Coates.

I'm a reporter with The
Los Angeles Mirror News.

Before me are copies of El Imparcial,

the newspaper edited and
published by Manuel Acosta Mesa

in the summer of 1956.

(speaking in foreign language)

"Here we are, you vultures,"
was the taunting headline

he threw in the faces of the
gang overlords on July the 9th.

And in his vivid, uncompromising language,

he followed it up on July
the 17th with an editorial.

An editorial that reads in part,

to shut us up, you'll
have to make us a present

of wooden pajamas after
sprinkling it with lead.

(soft music)

It began in April of
1956, not far from El Sol,

the newspaper which Manuel edited then.

(horn honking)

- Ole!

Hey, (speaking in foreign
language), neighbor?

- Hot tamales on the hoof.

- This is your lucky night,
girls, we've arrived!

(tires screeching)
- Look out!

(menacing music)

- Wonder What he was drinking?

- One thing, it wasn't water.

- Yeah, maybe if I go around,
I can get him the next time.

(suspenseful music)

- What happened?

- Is Manuel here?

Where's Manuel?
- What's wrong?

- (groans) Get Manuel.

- Senor Mesa, please, come quickly!

(speaking in foreign language)

It's Senor Rodriguez, the school teacher,

he's been hurt!
- Hurt?


(speaking in foreign language)

- Manuel, Manuel.

- No, no, not here.

In my office, where you'll
be more comfortable.

Go get Dr. Calderon.
(speaking in foreign language)

Right here.

All right, easy, easy.

You all right, huh?
(Alberto heavily breathing)

(water splashes)

Easy now.

Okay, now, Alberto,
tell me, what happened?

- They beat me, Manuel.

Three men.
- Who, what three men?

- I didn't recognize them,

but they let me know who
they were working for:

the syndicate.

- What have you got to
do with the syndicate?

- Manuel, remember last
week when the Federales

arrested that man, Fuentes?

- Yes, they picked him up with
a suitcase full of marijuana.

- It was I who told them about him.

(moans) They used a pipe on me.

I'm a little bit...

- All right, now, now, relax, relax.

You have plenty of time.

- No, it has passed.

Manuel, all these years you've
been fighting the syndicate,

friends like me said, "Viva, Manuel,"

but did nothing else.

Our skins were too precious.

But when I found out
about that man, Fuentes,

what he was doing at the school,

I had to be a man.

- What do you mean what he
was doing at the school?

- That dope he had,

he was recruiting my
students to peddle it.

The boys have not always been kind,

but I think of them as my sons.

I told them to stay away from them

and they said if I didn't keep out of it,

I would be broken in two.

They nearly succeed.

- You'll be all right, Alberto.

And this story will be on
the front page, believe me.

It'll be so hot, it'll scorch them.

- Tell them I have just started fighting.

And I intend to talk to
parents and other teachers and...

(painfully moans)

Manuel, open your window.

- Alberto.

He was brave or jackass enough
to oppose the syndicate.

- We better get him to the hospital.

Help him up.

- No, no hospital.

It is too expensive.
- Oh, no.

Don't you worry about that.

I'll take care of that someway.

- No, Manuel.
- Now don't you argue with me.

There's nobody who argues better than I.

I'll be in the hospital in a few minutes.

There's somebody I have to see first.

(telephone receiver tapping)

- Seven, four, six.

- Senor Acosta, you are going
to see Peron Diaz, I know.

You be careful of him.

- Tonight, it'd be better
for him to be careful of me.

(door bangs)

(mariachi band music)

(club patrons faintly chattering)

- This is the rest of it.

- Oh, that's not bad, eh, Eddie?

Just wait 'til the bullfight
season starts next week.

We'll double that, eh?

- Yeah, the town will
be loaded with suckers.

- You know, I'm thinking,

we hire a kid to stand at the border

and give out circulars to the cars.

We put our name on it and
maybe the picture of a girl.

What do you think?
- Well, circulars are cheap.

So are kids.
- Look, Eddie.

You know, you're running this club.

You don't like my ideas, you say so, eh?

- Don't mind me, Peron.

It's been a tough day.

- You know, you've got
me a little worried.

When I first brought you to Tijuana,

you were excited, happy!

Handling all the money
made you a little drunk.

But, now, I...

Is your wife okay?

- Yeah, she's dandy.

No morning sickness yet, nothing.

- Ah, having a child.

This is a wonderful thing.

- So they say.
(safe clanking)

- What is it then, you don't
like being in Tijuana no more?

- Tijuana's...

Well, it's done more for me in six months,

then the music business did in years.

- Yeah.
- I don't wanna hook.

I live like a capitalist.

I'd kiss the ground out there.

(hand knocking)

Who is it?
- Acosta Mesa.

I wanna see Diaz.

Is the bandito in there?

(mariachi band music)

- Well, being called names
by Manuel Acosta Mesa

shouldn't bother me anymore.

It does, however.

- Bandit is a nursery word
compared to what I really think.

- Ah, come on, come on.

Sit down, you know Eddie March.

Sit down, sit down.

- Your boys beat up Manuel Rodriguez,

the school teacher, tonight.

He's on his way to the hospital.

That must give you a great satisfaction.

Do you think you're going
to scare everyone else

from informing on the syndicate?

- (softly chuckles) I ask you Eddie,

do you have any idea
what he is talking about?

Manuel, listen, I never even
heard of this Rodriguez.

- Oh, you know all about it all right.

Your boys worked on him
because he had the courage

to tell the Federal Police about Fuentes.

- Ah, Miguel Fuentes, you mean?

- That's right.

That coyote of yours with a
suitcase full of marijuana

and the violence to recruit
schoolboys to peddle it.

- Manuel, listen.

This Fuentes worked for me now and then,

but I fired him when I found
out he was mixed up with dope.

When am I going to convince you

that I am strictly in
the nightclub business?

- (scoffs) Nightclub business.

Every taxicab driver in Tijuana
knows that's only a front!

- You know, someday, I am
going to sue you for slander.

- I'd welcome it.
- Of course, you would.

It would make bigger headlines
and boost circulation.

- You don't really believe that, do you?

- Oh, it's an old technique.

You challenge this one, attack that one;

the bigger the better

and don't worry if
they're innocent or not,

as long as the commotion sells newspapers.

- You're as innocent as
a loaded machine gun.

- Isn't that why Galindo
hired you as his editor?

To keep El Sol from going bankrupt?

- Galindo wants to see
the paper remain alive.

But you listen to me,

if it means that I lose every reader,

I'll fight to keep our children

from becoming dope peddlers.
- Ah.

- Take your hands off me!

I'm not finished yet.

- If you have come here to throw
accusations around, Manuel.

- Oh, no, that won't
help Rodriguez right now.

I want money.
- Money?

- To pay his hospital bills,

to keep his family from starving

until he's able to work again.

- But I told you, I never
even heard of this Rodriguez!

- You write a Check for $300.

- Oh, just like that, eh?

- [Manuel] I'm on my way
to the hospital right now

and I'll deliver it.

And if it isn't enough,
I'll be back for more.

- You know, I know you
have had some results

crashing into offices,
but I am not stupid.

I give you money

and it looks like I had
something to do with it.

(softly chuckles) Oh, no, Manuel.

You've wanted to crucify
me for a long time.

Don't expect me to help you.


- Come on.

- You will have an easier time
getting rid of your shadow.

I'll leave when I have
the check in my hand.

- Yeah, we'll see about that.

- Open the door, Eddie!

- Come on!
- Eddie!

(fingers snapping)
- Hey, let go of me!

(men groaning)
(mariachi band music)

(furniture banging)
(woman softly shouts)

(table crashing)
(fists thudding)

- Manuel!
(patrons excitedly chattering)

What are you trying to
do, get yourself killed?

Who do you think you are wrecking my club?

- Your club?

You know, Eddie, everyone
thinks it's yours,

but it belongs to Diaz and so do you.

- That's not true.

- You know, that wasn't very smart

what you did in there, Manuel.

- It wasn't smart what
you did to Rodriguez,

as you'll find out when you
read this week's newspaper.

- I think I had better have
a little talk with his boss.

Come on.
(mariachi band music)

- All right, let's get back to work.

(gentle piano music)

(doorbell buzzing)

- I hope we have not come at
a bad time, Senor Galindo.

- What can I do for you?

- Well, we wanted to
talk a little business.

- Come in.
- Thank you.

- Darling, please.

Good night, my dear.

(lips smacking)

- Thank you.

I have not discussed
this with Eddie March,

but I have been thinking of
advertising the Club Matador

in your paper.

Maybe buy a full page every week.

Now, what would such an ad cost?

- $200 is the usual rate.

- $200 (chuckles), multiplied by 52 is,

well, it's a little over $10,000.

It's a lot of money, but I
think it would be worth it.


I imagined you
would be a little surprised.

- I don't deny it.

- Oh, it's true, your paper and me,

well, shall we say we've been feuding?

But I think it's about time
we stopped all that, why not?

You and I can do each other a lot of good.

- An ad in El Sol wouldn't
help your business much.

Mexicans don't go to the Club Matador.

- Oh, that's true, we
do cater mostly to the


But, well, there's all
kinds of advertising.

I am not interested

in making customers out of your readers.

Only in obtaining their goodwill.

- I see.

- I want them to look on us
as their friends (chuckles),

as someone who brings business to Tijuana,

not the way your editor described us.

- Now Manuel's got the idea

that Senor Diaz has got something to do

with beating up a school teacher.

- Oh, yes, I would want you to have

a little talk with him about that.

When he left me, he was
threatening to fry me

in the next issue of the paper.

- If Manuel wants to write a story,

there is nothing I can do about it.

- And why not?

You're the publisher.

He has to listen to you.
- No.

When I hired Manuel,

I had to agree to guarantee

that he would have
complete editorial control.

- You mean he can write anything he wants?

- Yes.

- Well, I never heard of such a thing.

- El Sol was failing.

Manuel's terms were stiff,

but I needed him so desperately,

I just had to give in.

- (chuckles) You made a mistake, Galindo.

- I don't think so.

- Perhaps you would prefer to
have the American authorities

close the border.

- Of course not.

- Manuel's articles are
being picked up by the papers

in San Diego and Los Angeles.

He's made this town look so black

that there's talk of keeping
all of the Americans out.

If that happens, this town will die!

We live on American dollars.

- I don't think that Manuel

will do anything to hurt Tijuana.

- Ah, you try telling that
to those merchants out there.

They're worried, take my word.

They're at the stage of
doing something serious

if there's any more bad publicity.

- This article comes out on Senor Diaz,

it may be all the push they need

to put an end to your paper.

- It's a very simple thing
to cancel their advertising;

pass a resolution among
themselves to boycott you.

They shut down El Imparcial
that way, remember?

- They didn't do that of their own accord.

They were intimidated by the syndicate.

- Ah, the syndicate, always the syndicate!

What would you do if your
livelihood were threatened?

Would the syndicate have to
force you to save yourself?

- A person would have to be blind

not to see what really happened.

- Ah, you're blind now,
Galindo, if you push this;

if you give up everything to
satisfy a wild man like Manuel.

Your wife would never forgive you.

Your child would never forgive you.

You would be a fool to let that happen.

- But there's nothing I can
do about Manuel, I told you!

- Well, I'm sure that you can.

Think about it.

Think about it, Galindo,
but don't think too long.

You know, canceling their advertising

is all that's necessary.

It would be a shame if
someone got hysterical

and did something foolish.
(sinister music)

(door bangs)

- How is he, is he all right?

- Pretty bad, I'm afraid,
a lot of complications.

- What kind?
- Well, they're taking X-rays.

They won't say.

One good thing is Dr. Calderon

is gonna take care of him without charge.

- I'm sure he'll be all right.
- Sure.

You go home now, it's been a long day.

- Ooh, I almost forgot.

Senor Galindo called and
he said he would see you

around 11 o'clock.
- Well, good.

He'll get a chance to read

the story I'm writing about Rodriguez.

- (softly laughs) One day,
you will change Tijuana.


- Oh, no, my dear.

I wish I could.

The people of Tijuana,

without their support, I'm helpless.

Good night.
- Good night.

(door softly bangs)
(light switch clicks)

- I wonder what the antidote
for these tacos are.

- Man, they go down hot.

- Put some hair on your chest.

Hey, a little bit of that would
put some hair on my chest.

- Oh, mama, I want that for Christmas.

- Any day in the week
is good enough for me.

- Come on.

Hey, can I help with that, baby?

Used to do it for my
little old grandmother.

- (scoffs) Maybe she
doesn't like grandmothers.

- My grandmother used to put me to sleep

by putting my head in the oven
and turning on the gas (laughs).

- El Sol de Tijuana, do you work for them?

- Please, go away.

- Well, what is it?
- A newspaper.

- Well, newspaper people are
supposed to know everything.

Maybe you're just the one
to show us around town.

- Look, you'll find the girls you want

in the cabarets.

(boys chuckling)

- Oh, what's the matter?

Don't you believe in the
good neighbor policy?

- I have to go home; some other time.

- Some other time may be too late.

I may be dead by then.

My old man tells me all the time.

He says, "You'll see,
you'll kill himself."

So maybe I will, but I like that old song,

"I'm Gonna Live Till I Die".

- There are many ways of living.

- Oh, no, no, no, there's only one

and that's to know you're living.

That's to think any second you may die.

Oh, come on, Chiquita,
loosen up, will you?

Now, I may buy you a present, you know?

- Look, if you don't leave me alone,

I'm going to call a policeman.

- Oh, I'm scared stiff.

What's all the goody-goody routine?

Look, baby, this is Tijuana
and you're no different

than anybody else down here.

(hand thwacks)

(horn honks)

Catch your bus.

(brakes squealing)

That stupid.

(engine rumbling)
(horn honking)

- Well, what happened?

- Nothing, she ain't worth the trouble.

Come on, let's go take in one
of those so-called nightclubs.

(mariachi band music)

(patrons applauding and cheering)

- You don't think she's good, eh?

- Sure, I do.

- She's a tall one, but the
boys like them that way.

What is your name?

- Mitch.
- Mitch?

- Mitch for Mitchell.

- Hard for me to say, but I like you.

(speaking in foreign language)

- I think you'd like anybody
that bought you a drink.

- [Man] Hey, Mitch, we're
here to gas it up, man!

- Oh, I'm having a ball, then.

- That chick back there bug ya?

- What chick?
- The one that slapped ya.

- What are you, flipped, man?

- Something is on his
man, but I get it off.

You dance with me.
(salsa music)

(club patrons chattering)
(man clapping)

Hold me tighter.

I bite, but not hard.

Hmm, that's better, eh.

This way, you can only think of Lupe.

- Yeah, I guess so.

- I bet you're

hombre (speaking in foreign language).

You know what that means?

Much man.

- And I'll bet you don't
play with dolls, either.

- (laughs) You have a car?
- Yes.

- They won't miss us for a little while.

First, you give me some money

and I buy a few sticks for us.

- What, marijuana?

- I know someone here
who sells it, the best.

- Well, we don't need any of that stuff.

- You ever try any?
- No.

- You afraid?
- No, I'm not afraid.

- Prove it, I'll buy it.

You wait outside.

Thought you were (speaking
in foreign language) hombre.

Maybe I make a mistake.

- Hey, where is Mitch going?

- Don't worry, he'll be all right.

- Five sticks.

- Five sticks, that's all he wants?

- Maybe later on I get him to buy more.

- Give me your purse.

- Don't forget to put
my cut in there, too.

- Don't worry.

- You wanna push tea, you
find someplace else to.

- Give me that.
- Oh, I'll get rid of this stuff for ya.

- Say, who do you think you are?

- Now, get out of here, both of you.

- Hey, take it easy, Eddie.

Pino's a friend of Diaz.

- This cokie.
- Give the stuff back to him.

- Sure.
(purse thuds)

Let the police trace it back here,

that happens and my club
gets the full treatment.

- You get something straight.

This is not your club,
you only front for it.

- I also happen to run it.

- It only matters what you do?

Don't think it has to agree with Diaz?

Now, Pino's done the
boss a number of favors.

One today, as a matter of fact.

- What favors?

- I'll let Diaz tell you when he's ready.

Hey, what's the matter with you?

You've been acting very funny lately;

helping Manuel before, now this.

If Tijuana's suddenly become
too strong for your stomach,

then maybe you don't belong here.

- If this punk gets us into trouble.

- You'll be in the clear.

Now, don't worry.

- Come on.

- Carlos.

Take care of things, I'm going home.

(horn honks)
(salsa music)

(tongue clicks)

Don't try giving it a bath
or the paint will come off.

- Hello, Eddie.

- I thought for a minute
the stork had gotten

his dates mixed up.

- Oh, you know, I had
a nightmare last night.

I dreamed the baby was already born

and no matter how hard I tried,

I couldn't diaper it.
(Eddie chuckles)

It was just awful (laughs).

I borrowed this from a little
girl nextdoor to practice.

- Well, it looks pretty good to me.

- No.
- Let me try it.

- [Liz] Oh, Eddie, I'm worried.

I really am.

- Worried about what?

- Well, I've never been
around babies much.

You know, we've been on
the road all the time.

- Well, you'll know what to
do when the right time comes.

- What if I dropped it?

- Well, I guess just
carry it like a football,

the way the Red Cross Manual says.


- There's so many
other things that can happen.

- (chuckles) Oh, come on,
you sound like a Junior Miss.

You'll make a great mother.

And I intend to make a great father.

Come here.

- [Liz] You're home early.

Everything all right at the club?

- Oh, a couple of stickups and fire,

but nothing really important.

- Eddie, I'm beginning to
feel very left out of things.

Every time I ask you
about the club, lately,

you put me off.
(lips smacking)

- A man comes home to get
away from his business.

If he has to answer questions,

he might as well stay around there

and watch the cash register.

I wanna hear about your day.

(telephone ringing)

- Hello?

Yes, I'm his wife.
- Who is it?

(phone receiver clicks)

What was that?

- I've had three calls
like that this month.

- What kinda calls?

- People telling me what they think of us

for associating with Diaz.

- (scoffs) Those stupid...

Ah, they probably been
reading that scandal sheet

of Manuel Acosta Mesa's.
- Eddie.

Eddie, that was Mrs.
Rodriguez on the phone,

the wife of the school teacher.

- Rodriguez?

- It's true, isn't it?

Diaz is with the syndicate.
- No!

Well, you know how it is
in the nightclub business.

Anything that happens,

you're the first one that gets blamed.

Diaz is okay.
- Eddie.

Eddie, we've known about Diaz a long time.

We just didn't want to admit it.

- Diaz is clean.

Well, I've never seen him do
anything to disprove that.

I think I'll tell the
police about these calls.

(phone receiver clicks)

I don't know, maybe he
is with the syndicate.

Does that make any difference to us?

- I don't know.

- What, just because I
run a nightclub for him,

does that mean I'm with the syndicate?

- Eddie, it just frightens me
to be mixed up with this man.

And anyway...
- Honey.

You want me to walk out him?

Give up 25% right off the top?

- Well, maybe you could
organize another band?

- Big bands are dead.

The public won't pay a
dime now for anything

but novelty acts or freak singers.

- Well, what about
arranging then or composing?

- Sweetie, if I leave Diaz,

there's only one place for me to go,

back to a bar pounding some piano.

Oh, look, you remember the way we felt

when Diaz offered me this job?

- Yes, but we didn't know
it was gonna be like this.

- This, we...

(heavily sighs) We got
a kid on the way, Liz.

I wanna be able to do something for him.

I wanna be around when he grows up.

But I don't wanna always be on the road

living in cheap motels.

- Look, what if somebody
like this Manuel Acosta Mesa

is able to break up the syndicate
and connect you with it?

- Nobody, including this Acosta character,

is gonna break up the syndicate.

So he goes around making out a lion.

When the syndicate decides
to put the lid on him,

he's through.

He'll turn out to be the tamest
kitten you've ever heard.

Just wait 'til he begins
to feel the pressure.

- [Reuben] You know how much I
detest the syndicate, Manuel,

but the time has come to be practical.

- In what way?

- Well, to begin with,

we can't print this story.

- You think Diaz will sue us, don't you?

He wouldn't dare.

- Manuel, what I'm trying to say is

that we can't win against the syndicate.

- Has Diaz been to see you?

Why, of course!

He must have gone straight to your home.

- What difference does it make?

The time has come to be practical!

- Practical?

You didn't worry about being practical

when you came to me in the beginning.

Just save me, save me!

That was all that was on your mind.

- Look, look, Manuel.

I know that you built our circulation

through your reform policy,

but now we've gone too far.

The syndicate is ready
to chop our heads off.

- Let 'em try.

- Manuel, you might as
well fight a hurricane.

Vice in Tijuana is big business.

It's not run by one man like Diaz,

but by the La Mafia
with international links

and it's controlled by big officials.

- I'm aware of that.

But, so far, there hasn't
been a crime organization

that's stronger than aroused public.

- (sighs) The public doesn't care.

Why should they?

A wide-open town attracts Americans

and Americans bring dollars.

- You underestimate our people.

They have pride, a great deal of it.

And what Rodriguez did proves it.

- Look, there are many other
worthwhile projects for you.

Manuel, you've always talked about wanting

to start a campaign to build an orphanage.

- Oh, yes.

Build a home for our children

and let the syndicate run
their lives, is that it?

- All right, don't turn the
paper into an advertisement

for the syndicate.

But don't attack the
big operators like Diaz.

Limit your targets; close a brothel,

point a finger at the gambling den, but...

- The syndicate wouldn't
mind that, would they?

- What are you, Manuel?

An avenging angel or something!

- No, Galindo, no.

But when a decent man is hurt, I feel it.

I call out for myself
as much as I do for him,

and I'm ashamed.

A shame like coward is as
often the spur that drives men.

- What are you ashamed of?

- Of the picture the
border towns give Americans

and the rest of the world.

They can't help but think
that all of Mexico's this way;

that they whole country is full of thieves

and marijuana pushers,

which couldn't be farther from the truth.

- They say that the pride
goeth before a fall, Manuel.

I can't afford to risk my business

and the safety of my
family to satisfy you.

- Mm-hmm, and the
contract you have with me?

- I know, of course, that
your contract does give you

complete editorial freedom.

But if you insist on holding me to it,

I shall be forced to buy it up.

- I see (sighs).

- I realize, of course,
what that will cost me.

But I have no other choice.

- Hmm, Diaz must have
really frightened you.

- Call me and let me know
what you decide, Manuel.

But, Manuel, remember this.

If you leave me, there
is no other paper in town

that will hire you.

You're too hot.

- (heavily sighs) Well,
perhaps I have had enough

of the newspaper business already.

- Ah, I think not.

You're a born newspaper man, Manuel.

One of the best.
(Manuel softly sighs)

- Reuben.

- I'm sorry, Manuel.

I'm sorry.

- Papa, Papa!

- Oh, all right.

- Moo!
- Matador.

Hep, hep!
- Moo!

- (laughs) Come on, come on, come on!

Your papa's gotta go to work.

You got to have some breakfast, hmm?

Be a strong, great big boy.

- [Paul] I wish I were you, Papa.

- Me, why?

- Because you're the
bravest man in Tijuana.

Braver than a bullfighter.

- A bullfighter?

Well, well, well.

- One day, they'll put your picture

on a peso or maybe a stamp!

- I'll tell you what we'll do,

we'll change places, huh?

You know, I'd rather be you.

No worries, no troubles.

- He only gives troubles.

- [Paul] It's only when you
don't let me do what I want.

- AW.
- You know something, son?

You should be very happy
you have a nice girl

like your sister to tell you what to do.

There are a lot of children in Tijuana

that have nobody to tell them anything.

Orphans; no papa, no mama.

- Papa, are you going
to start that campaign

to build an orphanage?
- Mm-hmm.

Only instead of money,
I'm going to ask everyone

to donate one brick, just one brick.

What do you think of it?

- Well, everyone should
be able to give a brick.

- Well, you don't sound very
enthusiastic this morning.

- No, I think it's a fine idea.

I was just wondering what happened

to this story on Rodriguez.
- It's there.

- Yes, but it's on the back page

and the syndicate isn't even mentioned.

- You know, Enrique, you say
you wanna be a newspaper man.

Well, there's one thing you have to learn.

People are interested
in many kinds of things,

not only crime.
- I understand.

You know something, Papa, I'm glad.

- Glad?
- Yes, it's about time

you stop fighting them.

We want you alive.

Sooner or later, they
would have killed you.

- They wouldn't touch Papa.

- You're right, Paul.

The truth is Galindo threatened
to buy up my contract

unless I went easy on them.

(telephone rings)

- Hello?

One minute, please.

Dr. Calderon from the hospital.

- Good morning, doctor.

Oh, yes, sir.
(ominous music)

(tongue clicks)
Oh, it's too bad.

Yes, thank you for calling me.

Rodriguez, he's dead.
(woeful music)

(engine rumbling)

- Hi.

Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute.
I just wanna talk to you.

- Can't you leave me alone?

- [Mitch] Look, I'm not gonna hurt you.

- Senor Acosta!
- Hey, will you wait a minute?

- You come down here,

you think you can do anything you like.

Well, we are Mexicans, but we are people

just as good as you are.

- Now, look, I'm only
trying to apologize to you.

I never apologized to anybody in my life.

- Something's the matter?

- Nothing, Senor Acosta, it was a mistake.

(soft dramatic music)

I'm sorry, I didn't understand.

(couple laughing)
(playful music)

- Hey, come here!
- Hey, stop that.

Stop that! (laughs)

First, you do like this, see?

Now, you look for little,
tiny holes to form, see?

Now, you dig quickly, like this.


- Hey, you're an expert at this, huh?

- Well, my brothers taught
me when I was very young

in Santa Rosalia.

We used to drive here every Sunday.

- Well, how come you moved to Tijuana?

- Well, there was a big
copper mine in Santa Rosalia

where my whole family worked.

One day, the mine closed.

There was no more copper.

We didn't believe it at first.

We kept thinking, like everyone else,

the mine would open again.

Then, our money disappeared
and we were without food.

- Well, there's no sense
talking about it now.

- Well, we didn't starve to
death thanks to Senor Acosta.

You know, they say that
Mr. Acosta broke into

a very important
government meeting one day

and he pounded the desk until
they passed a resolution

to help us.

- You like him?
- Yes.

One day, in Santa Rosalia,

I decided I would work for him.

I'd work for nothing, if necessary.

- Boy, you must really be sold on him.

- Yes, come on, let's look for clams.

- All right, well, look.

You look over here, I'm gonna
go up there and try my luck.

(waves crashing)

(sand crunching)

Hey, Linda, I think I found something!

- Oh, somebody must have lost it here.

- I wonder what it is.

- To Linda, from you.
(romantic music)

- Go ahead, open it up.

- But you mustn't buy me anything.

- Will ya open it up?

- A bracelet!

- It belonged to my mom.

Look, I know it sounds like a line,

but it really did.

- But you hardly know me,
I couldn't accept this.

- Now, look, I want you to.

- But there must be other
girls at your school.

- If there were,

do you think I'd drive
85 miles every weekend?

- How about your father,
maybe he'd like to keep it?

- Look, I don't live with my father.

I live with my relatives, anyway.

Go ahead, put the bracelet on.

Better than a clam?

- Oh, it's better than
anything I've ever owned.

- Hey, come back!

- It's getting late, Mitch,

and I don't want you
driving home in the dark.

- Oh, there's no rush.

I'm gonna stay in Tijuana tonight.

- How about your school tomorrow?

- Look, the teachers
will be happy as birds

if I'm not there.

- But your relatives, they
will be expecting you, also.

- Will you forget them?

- Mitch, you frighten me.

- Why, in six months,

they're gonna dump me
on somebody else anyway?

That's the way it's always been;

from one relative to the next.

- I'm talking about something else.

- What do you mean?

- You have so much hate inside of you.

- I wouldn't say that.
- It's true.

But I'm going to put out that hate.

I have to, Mitch, if it's
going to be right between us.

- You know, I think you
can do anything you say.

(sinister music)
(tires screeching)

Hey, what's the matter?

- This is your car?
- That's right, what goes?

- Let me see your license, please.

- You have that fender repaired recently?

- Yeah, about six weeks ago.

- What happened to it?

- Well, what's this all about?

- You'd better answer his question.

- Well, I was in Tijuana.

I parked the car some place

and when I came back, I
found the fender smashed.

- Did you report it?
- Well, what for?

My insurance doesn't cover me down here.

- Well, what's wrong?
- One moment.

(suspenseful music)

That fender was not damaged as you say.

- Oh, no?

- You struck three cars that
were parked on Avenido Hidalgo,

driving like a wild man.

- Oh, you're crazy; loco, man.

I can drive this buggy through a keyhole

without even touching the sides.

- Perhaps, when you're not under
the influence of marijuana.

You can still smell the ashes.

- We'll have a laboratory
examine it to make sure.

- Is it true, Mitch?

- Yeah, sure, it's true.

After I met you,

I picked up a few weeds
at the Club Matador.

Hey, look, I don't
remember hitting any cars.

- It's possible.

I've seen 'em like you before;

fall from a second
floor and never knew it.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Hey, look, look, look!

It was the first time I ever touched
this stuff and the last time.

Give me a break, will ya?

- Oh, wait, he'll pay for the damages!

- It is too late.

Damaging public and private
property in an automobile

is a crime in Mexico.
- Now, look!

I'm not going in any filthy jail.

- Don't make it difficult for us.

- Look, I heard about your jails.

I'll never get out!

- Mitch, Mitch!
(suspenseful music)

- Stop!
(gun bangs)

- Mitch!
- Stop!

- Mitch!
(intense music)

- He's crazy!

- I'll call for a patrol boat.

Don't let him get out of your sight.

(boat engine rumbling)
(suspenseful music)

(brakes squeaking)

(tense music)

- I had to call you, I
didn't know what to do.

- Any sight of him yet?

- He just seemed to have disappeared.

- Maybe he got away.

(speaking in foreign language)

(dramatic music)
(waves crashing)

- Hey must've hit the rocks, senorita.

(Linda frantically shouts)

- It wasn't our fault.

He shouldn't have run away.

- If there hadn't been
a slimy dope peddler

at the Club Matador.

They were killed by killed by
marijuana and the syndicate.

Do you still wanna be a newspaper man?

- Yes.

- You're hired as my assistant.

I'm going after that syndicate, again.

- Papa, how can you do that?

Galindo, won't let...
- Galindo's willing

to buy up my contract.

With the money I get,
I'm going to start up El Imparcial again.

- Papa, it'll be the
same thing over again.

You'll bang your head
against a stone wall.

- Oh, perhaps, son.

But my head will feel much
better than it does now,

believe me.

- Papa, they will kill you.

- This is our home!

A home is something to be loved;

a place where children can
grow up into decent citizens;

walk proudly and safely.

This is what I want and if
it means risking a bullet,

well, let it come.

(dramatic music)
(crowd applauding)

- [Narrator] Three days later, June 6th,

Manuel Acosta Mesa told
a Merchants Meeting

that El Imparcial was back in business.

He vowed that the paper
would not fail this time,

nor would it take a backwards step

until the pack of rats
who controlled Tijuana

died from exposure to decency.

(crowd applauding)

(sinister music)

The first issue of El Imparcial

carried a front-page editorial headed

(speaking in foreign language).

I accuse, in which Manuel cited

a score of crimes
committed by the syndicate,

including the murder of Rodriguez

and, indirectly, the drowning
of an American schoolboy.

Every copy was bought up,

but buy syndicate men with instructions

to keep the paper from the public.

(dramatic music)

But this didn't stop Manuel.

- What took you so long?
- The paper just came out.

The same editorial's on the front page.

You want us to buy up this issue, also?

- No, I can't go buying up
every paper he ever prints.

Go through this and copy the names

of everyone advertising in it.

I'll break Manuel just
the way I did before.

- Oh, buenos dias, come right in.

- Are you Senor Cassedas?

(speaking in foreign language)

Well, we're from the
committee to preserve Tijuana.

We see that you're an
advertiser in El Imparcial.

- What of it?

- Well, perhaps it did not occur to you

that by supporting Acosta,

you're helping return Tijuana to the dogs.

If he manages to close the
border with his wild accusations,

we'll all be out of business.

- [Narrator] At first, the
velvet glove approach was used

to persuade the advertisers
to desert Manuel.

But on meeting resistance, they
let the glove rip a little.

They branded him a traitor.

If that didn't work, they
let it rip all the way.

(man painfully moaning)
(fists thudding)

(dramatic music)

- This is only a sample of what you'll get

if you ever advertise
with that traitor again.

(explosion booming)
(electricity crackling)

(sinister music)
(crowd faintly chattering)

- [Narrator] Terrified advertisers

had dropped out of the columns
of El Imparcial one by one.

In bombing a dress shop,

it was the syndicates aim
to crumble the resolve

of these staunch ones who had remained.

They were supremely confident.

- Well, what a surprise.

Buenas noches, senores.

- Buenas noches.
- Buenas noches, Manuel.

- Rodrigo.
- Hello, Manuel.

- Oh, it's good to see you.

Where's Alma?

I'll get you some coffee.

- This isn't a social call, Manuel.

Here, this is for you.

- These are all personal checks.

- Manuel, most of us are in businesses

that do not advertise.

That doesn't mean, however,

that we should be deprived the
chance of fighting with you.

We believe in you, Manuel.

We feel if the paper can keep going,

we have a chance for some
decency in this town.

- Well, (softly chuckles)
I don't know what to say.

- El Imparcial continued to
hit the streets regularly

and there was no let-up in
Manuel's blazing campaign

against the syndicate.

San Diego and Los Angeles newspapers,

long concerned over the
fact that Tijuana had become

a cheap source of narcotics
for the United States,

leaped to Manuel's support

and the California syndicate
operators became alarmed.

- I didn't call you up here for excuses.

If you can't handle the situation,

I'll get someone to replace you.

- Look, I told you, he is getting
private money from people.

How can I work on them if
I do not know who they are?

- Then, hire someone to kill him;

kill him and shut his
mouth once and for all.

- No, I do not think this is a good idea.

- You don't?
- Look, Manuel is a hero

to the people in Tijuana.

If we kill him now, we really
stir up a hornets nest.

- There's always a couple
of hard heads like Manuel.

The rest will melt away,
especially if they think

they might get the same treatment.

- Look, I was brought up in Tijuana.

I started selling chewing gum down there.

I was barefoot 'til I was 10...

- We're not interested in your life story.

- All I'm trying to tell you

is that I know these people down there.

You can only push them so far.

- Would you rather we just
let him close the border?

- Oh, no.

- Take a look at this paper.

Right here in Los Angeles,
they're talking about it.

If that border closes, it not
only kills the tourist trade,

it shuts off our supply of junk.

- All right, all right!

I'll be happy to get him off my back.

- You can get one of the
Guitarro brothers to do the job.

- No, that is no good.

The police would question 'em right away.

- You know someone they wouldn't question?

- Yeah, they would
never even dream of him.

(inmates and visitors chattering)

- Hello, Miguel, how are ya?

How they been treating you?

- You know what it's like around here.

- Oh, now, Miguel, you
don't still blame me

for not getting you off?

- Ah, you're supposed to be a good lawyer.

- The police caught you with
a suitcase full of marijuana.

I would have had to been magician,
not a lawyer, to help you.

- What did you come around here for?

Unless you figured a way
to get me out of here,

I have better ways of
spending my time than this.

- Come here, I wanna
talk to you, sit down.

Sit down, Miguel.

The syndicate sent me.

- The syndicate?
- Yeah.

Naturally, they couldn't
be seen here with you.

- Well, what do they want?

- Manuel Acosta Mesa's been
running wild in his paper.

They can't take him anymore.

They'll make it worth your
while if you put an end to him,

- If I put an end to him?

You mean they're gonna
give me a little vacation

so that I can go out and
put an end to him, huh?

- Shh, keep your voice down, Fuentes.

- What is this, a joke?
- Here, have a cigarette.

One of your guards needs money.

He'll let you take off for
24 hours and cover for you.

(fire crackling)

You oughta be able to take
care Manuel in that time.

- You mean, he's gonna
let me out for 24 hours.

I'm going to do this
job and come back here?

- Exactly, nobody in the world
would ever pin it on you.

You got the perfect alibi.

You were in jail.
- Yeah.

Except that guard you paid.

He's gonna know I was out.

- The syndicate would kill him
if he ever double-crossed it

and he knows it.

- It sounds crazy to me.

- [Lawyer] It's been done before.

- Yeah, it's been done before.


How much would they give me for this job?

- 5,000 American dollars,

twice the amount you got before

for doing this kind of a job.

- I'm gonna need some money
when I get out of here.

- Of course, you can't go
back to your old trade.

You'll be watched too closely.

- When do they want me to do it?

- Monday, before Manuel
can print another paper.

(birds chirping)

- Ah, so you're here, Fuentes.

(speaking in foreign language)

First, you will put these on.

Now, here is the setup.

Manuel works late tonight.

When he leaves his office,

Ricardo, here, who is posted
outside, will telephone you.

You will drive the truck to Manuel's house

and wait there until he shows up.

(speaking in foreign language)

From here, it is only a few minutes

and you should be there before he is.

Don't spare any bullets on
him, just make sure he's dead.

- Don't worry, geez.

- Then, you will drive the truck back here

and change into your prison clothes.

And don't stop anywhere.

Tomorrow morning at seven o'clock,

you will be driven back to the jail.

You still remember how
to use one of these?

- Are you fooling?

- Give him the keys to the truck.

- Tires have been checked,
there's plenty of oil and gas.

- Yeah.

Oh, hey, one little favor.

- And what's that?

- Could you leave a couple of sticks here?

Just enough for me to do the job.

- No, it will drive you loco.

You will end up driving to Ensenada

or you will kill the wrong person.

- No, no.
- I cannot take that chance.

- Or you'll be picked up by the police.

That'll be the end of that.
- No, I...

- You just keep your mind on that $5,000.

That will give you all
the courage you need.

- No, no, no.

Just a couple of sticks.
- No.

(silverware clacking)

- Come out!
- Don't shoot, senor.

- What are you doing in here?

- I came to see Diaz.

- Through the window, all right,

I'll let the police...
- Don't call the police, senor!

- Stay there!

- Look, senor, you don't understand.

I work for Diaz the same as you.

I'm just doing a job for him.

I only came here to.
- To what?

- To get some tea, senor, so
I can do this job for him.

Bring him here, he'll
tell you I'm all right.

- What kind of a job,
blowing up some store again?

- No, senor, it's more
important than that.

That's all I can tell you.

Maybe you could get it for me.
I'll tell you who handles it.

Then, I won't have to bother Diaz at all.

- There he is.

I told you I saw him take
that truck down the street.

- You idiot, what are you doing here?

Did anybody see you?

- No, no, senor.

I came through the window.

Look, senor, I need a couple of sticks.

I don't think I can do this job for you.

- Ah, you peddled this stuff yourself.

You know what it does to you.
- I need it!

- (heavily sighs) Give
him one stick, that's all.

You will stay here, now, until it's time.

Then, you will go out that window again.

This is too complicated to explain, Eddie,

but you have nothing to worry about.

It does not involve you.

- No, I guess Manuel is
the one that has to worry.

- What do you mean by that?

- Well, it figures.

Manuel kept blasting away.

You were called to Los Angeles.

This guy has a job he
can't do without help.

Manuel's gonna be cut down tonight.

- Well, we have never
talked about it, Eddie,

but you have known for a long time

about me and the syndicate.

- I'd be pretty stupid if I didn't.

- But you kept your
mouth shut, I like that.

But there's no sense
in keeping secrets now.

Manuel has become like a wild bull.

Now, it is time drive this sword home.

- I got to get back in there.

- Eddie!

You look funny.

- I'm not used to murder.

It'll take a couple of minutes.

- You double-cross me, Eddie,

and you will be out of business, also;

in more ways than one.

- I told you once what
I thought of Tijuana,

but that I'd kiss the ground out there.

That still goes.

- You better stay with me tonight.

We go to the alai games, eh?

- Suits me fine.
(dramatic music)

(cork squeaks)
(liquor guzzling)

(engine rumbling)

(triumphant music)

(crowd cheering)
(ball thwacking)

(crowd applauding and cheering)

- Well, I can still make a Quinella.

- I couldn't cash a ticket
tonight if I bet on 'em all.

- Don't give up yet, there
are plenty of games left.

(ball thwacking)
(crowd faintly chattering)

(crowd cheering and applauding)

- (laughs) Well, that
kills any chance I had.

Would you excuse me while I called home?

Liz wasn't feeling very well this morning.

I'd better check.
- Give her my best.

(crowd applauding and cheering)

- You leaving early, Senor March?
- Yeah, just for a minute.

I'll be right back.
(engine rumbling)

(sinister music)

(hand knocking)

Officer, officer!

Get over to Manuel Acosta Mesa's!

(men faintly chattering)

(tires screeching)
(siren blaring)

- I had a feeling Tijuana was
too strong for your stomach.

- What are you talking about?

- You double-crossed us.

You tipped off the police.

- I told 'em there was an
accident up the street.

What do you think I'm crazy?
- Yes.

- Well, go on up and check then.

- I will, but you're going with me.

(fist thuds)
(Ricardo groans)

(phone ringing)
(dramatic music)

- Hello?
- Liz?

I'm coming by in 10 minutes.

Be waiting for me on the porch,

we're getting out of town.

- Oh, Eddie, what happened?

- I'll tell you when I see you.

Just be waiting for me.
- All right, Eddie.

(ominous music)

(tires screeching)

- [Policeman] Manuel, get
back in the car, wait!

Come out of there!

(guns banging)
(tense music)

- [Miguel] I've got a gun.

- It's a breezer, we've got you covered.

(gun matters)

Well, if it isn't Miguel Fuentes.

Come on.

Papa, from now on, you better carry a gun.

- No, son, he'll think I'm afraid of them.

- He just made the biggest
mistake of his life

and he will not get away with it.

- He's probably on his
way across the border now.

- Well, there is a simple
way of stopping him.

You get the car while I
make a telephone call.

(sinister music)
(telephone dings)

Get me the American Customs, quick!

(engines rumbling)

(telephone rings)

- Hello, Williams.

Just a minute.

Now, what kind of a car was that?

- Ah, I've seen traffic
crawl, but never like this.

- We'll be across in a minute.

- I'm sorry the way things
had to turn out, hun.

All I had to do was keep my mouth shut,

but I couldn't do it.
- Oh, Eddie.

Eddie, I'm glad.

If you'd of let him die,

you'd of killed us, too, inside.

We couldn't love each other or ourselves.

There's no money in the world worth that.

- Your license, please.

- What's the matter?

- May I see it?
- Sure.

Look, we've got to get across the border.

We don't have any luggage.

We didn't buy anything.

Nothing in this car to interest you.

- Well, we have information
to the contrary.

- What information?

- We've been told you're
transporting narcotics.

- What?

(laughs) Oh, look, somebody's
got his wires crossed.

Or else he's pulling a bad joke.

- We'll have to see that for ourselves.

- Look, the syndicate may be after me.

Do I have to tell you about the syndicate?

- Well, but if you're in danger,

it's a matter for the police.

This is Customs.

Take him over to the Customs Office.

- They're letting him
across the border now.

(tires squealing)

(suspenseful music)

(tires screeching)

(ominous music)

Follow him.

(dramatic music)

- I never thought it
would end this way, Eddie,

not with you.

- Well, the world is full of surprises.

- I found you when you
were nothing but a shadow.

I brought you back to life.

I gave you a child
that's coming, a future.

And you repay me by running to the police.

- You needed me for a front.

So whatever you're gonna
do, can the sob music.

- All right, Eddie, as you wish.

We'll start on your wife first.

- She didn't have anything to do with it!

- I want you to suffer, Eddie,

and you will watching what we do to her.

Go ahead, Ricardo.

- No!
- Hold it, Eddie.

(fists thudding)
(suspenseful music)

(men groaning)
(fists thudding)

- Stop it or I'll kill you!

Go on, I mean it!
I'll pull the trigger!

Go on, go on!
(dramatic music)

Eddie, Eddie, oh, darling.

Oh, Eddie, you're hurt so badly.

- Oh, I'm all right.
- Oh, no, you're not.

I'm gonna drive you into San Diego.

Then, I'm coming back.
- Back to Tijuana?

- I wanna see Manuel.

Tell him everything I
know about the syndicate;

names, addresses, everything.

- That's too dangerous, Eddie.

- And this will help.
- (sighs) All right.

If you're going back, I'm going with you.

You're in no condition to drive.

- Liz, you can't...
- Look, you're not gonna

leave me in San Diego.

Don't argue.

- I love you, Liz.
- Oh!

- Come on.

- [Narrator] Three days later,
in the form of El Imparcial,

a bomb appeared on the streets of Tijuana.

In Manuel's column under
a headline challenge,

"Here we are you vultures,"

he announced he had gained
possession of the names

of 22 of the most important
men in the syndicate;

high-placed politicians,
judges, businessmen,

and served notice that
he would reveal the names

to the legislature in Mexicali.

- Bueno, get me Peron
Diaz on the telephone.

- They don't meet in
Mexicali for another week.

We still got time to stop them.

- Yeah, that phone has
been ringing all day.

Right up to the very
top, they're trembling.

"Peron, what happened?

"Do something about him!

"Peron, Peron," as if it was my fault.

- It was not your fault; it's Manuel's.

- Of course.

- Look, why don't you let
me go and a few of the boys?

This time, there won't be any slip-ups.

- Oh, who's to say that he
hasn't given those names

to his son or to someone else.

We kill him, we still
have the same problem.

- With Manuel lying dead in the morgue,

nobody else is gonna take
that kind of a chance.

- Oh, maybe yes, maybe no.

- You just wanna lie back and wait?

- No, Manuel has left us no choice.

With that article he wrote,
he pulled the trigger himself.

(hand knocking)

(speaking in foreign language)

- Por favor, I am looking
for the Castro family.

Can you tell me where they live?

(speaking in foreign language)

- Buenas noches.

It's that way, one house after...

(gun banging)
(sinister music)

- [Alma] Papa!

- Papa, no!
- Ah, no!

(dramatic music)

- Papa (sobs).

- Please, senors, no (sobs).

(woeful organ music)

- El Imparcial, it's free.

- Did Manuel put that out?

- His son.

(speaking in foreign language)

- Hear me a minute, please.

Knowing Manuel as I did,

I can tell you what would
have satisfied him today.

Not our tears or our guilt,

but the knowledge that
he did not die in vain.

That the bullets that
crashed into his body

infuriated us into action;

gave us the indignation
and the courage to resolve

that we have enough of
terrorism and gangsterism;

that we living under the syndicate

without dignity or without
pride is intolerable.

I differed with Manuel, as you know.

And, eventually, we parted.

But even then, I knew that
I acted out of cowardice.

Manuel was right.

There is no power in the
world stronger than us.

Together, we can clean up Tijuana;

make it a decent place to live.

All it takes is the will.

Let us carry our dear friend.

Buena, muchachos.

(solemn music)

- [Policeman] All right, get in the car.

Come on, let's go!

- What is all this?

- State attorney has some
questions he wants to ask you.

(speaking in foreign language)

(engines rumbling)

- Be right back.

Thought you might wanna
read that while you wait.

Here we are you vultures.

The boy takes after his father.

- [Narrator] July the 31st,
the man who loved to fight

and asked no quarter, lay in his coffin,

but his death was not in vain.

Shortly after he was carried to his grave,

a swelling tide of indignation

forced wholesale changes
in the government.

The influence of gangsters,
corrupt officials,

the vultures as Manuel
Acosta Mesa called them,

was crippled.

A chain reaction shook the city.

Tijuana, today, doesn't wear a halo,

but it's finding its way to decency

led by the memory of a courageous newsman.

(dramatic music)