Boardwalk Empire (2010–2014): Season 2, Episode 9 - Battle of the Century - full transcript

Arriving passengers!

Please have your passport
or naturalization papers handy.

Ladies and gentlemen...

- Passport?
...welcome to Belfast.

And you?

Good to be home, mate.

Purpose of your visit, Mr. Thompson?

To bury my father in the land of his birth.

Repatriation document and death certificate.

Accident, was it?

Natural causes.



Your hand.

Got caught in the wrong cookie jar.

They have cookie jars here, don't they?

Welcome to the United Kingdom
of Great Britain and Ireland.

God save His Majesty George V.

Passport.

Thank you, ma'am.

Mr. Thompson arrived safely.

It's almost miraculous, isn't it?

I beg your pardon?

He was standing right here
and then six days later...

They're called steamships, Katy.

Beg pardon, ma'am,
but Emily refuses to get out of bed.

- Did you draw the bath?
- Yes, ma'am.



Get Teddy started, please.

You can't be Sleeping Beauty
with your eyes open.

I can't move.

I'm afraid you must.
All the fair princes are out of doors today.

Are you still not feeling well?

I can't move my legs.

- Can you feel that?
- I don't know.

Wiggle your toes, sweetheart.

- Emily, wiggle your toes!
- I am.

Lilian! Katy!

- Katy!
- Ma'am.

Call Dr. Surran. Have him come straightaway.

What are you staring at? Go!

- Mommy.
- It's nothing, cushla.

- Mama.
- It's nothing now.

- It's nothing at all.
- Mama.

Jimmy Darmody,

George Remus.

How do you do, sir?

How are you?

- You always meet out of your home?
- For now.

I'm looking for an office.

Remus enjoys a trip to the shore.

I understand you have
government-bonded whiskey to sell.

- You speak for the group?
- In Atlantic City he does.

Then, yes.

Strictly for medicinal purposes.

It turns out we've got
a lot of sick people in this town.

Practically an epidemic.

Remus has permits
that allow him to sell this alcohol

to legitimate drug companies only.

However, once the alcohol is sold
to a sanctioned buyer,

what happens when it's on the truck
is not Remus' responsibility.

So how might we learn
where to find Remus' trucks?

That'll cost you.

The five of us are willing to kick in
60 grand apiece.

To start.

300 grand for 5,000 cases?

But it's gotta be the bona fide.

Remus needs the money upfront.

And this weekend's on you, correct?

Yeah. You're an honored guest.
Whatever you like.

- You'll get word from my associate.
- All right.

Remus is finished.

Just give us a minute.

300 big ones' worth of out-of-the-crate liquor.

We do things right, it'll be worth 3 million.

So we don't do things wrong.

At the risk of being a fly in the ointment.

Manny Horvitz in Philly,

still cafone,
is still noodging us for his money.

- Yeah, fuck him already.
- Or pay him what you owe.

You could cut him in as a partner.

And what's second prize
for being an asshole?

- I'll take care of it.
- He's no milksop.

I said I'd take care of it.

You're the Grand Poobah.

- Then it's settled.
- Jersey City.

Dempsey? Me, too.

Yeah? We got the good seats.

He'll plow a field with that Frenchy.
Blood all over the canvas.

Why don't you come along?
We booked a suite at the Fairmont.

- Two nights in Jersey City?
- A.R.'s taking a lot of side action.

- I'm gonna listen on the wireless.
- What the hell for?

Darmody wants to see
what all the fuss is about.

Might as well read a book.

You're an American.

Yes.

May I ask you a question?

Where do you put Carpentier's prospects?

Dempsey's got 13 pounds on him.

Ah, but the Frenchman, he's a puncher.
Knocked out Britain's best in 74 seconds.

Beckett? He's a bum.

There's no call now to be casting aspersions.

Mr. Thompson.

Mr. McGarrigle. Thanks for coming here.

I understand misfortune's caught up with you.

Doesn't it with everyone?

A long way to come to bury the dead.

Bleeding Jesus!

Thompson submachine guns.

One of these can finish off an entire platoon
in the time it takes to fry an egg.

My donation to the rebellion.

How many do you have there?

A dozen, plus a drum magazine for each.

Don't say you don't need them.

A hundred might make a difference.

There are 3,000 sitting in the cellar
of the Atlantic City armory.

And what do you want for them,
Mr. Thompson?

Irish whiskey, all I can get.

And that's the kind of man you bring me?

I was good enough for you in Atlantic City.

- I'll present it to the leadership.
- I thought you wanted weapons.

It's naught but truth, Mr. McGarrigle.

- Are you interested or not?
- It'll have to be discussed.

Then bring me to the man in charge.

We'll tend to our affairs in our own way,
if it's all the same to you.

You'll be sent word.

What the fuck was that about?

He's a flinty old geezer, make no mistake.

Close it up.

Grant this mercy, O Lord,

we beseech thee, to thy servant departed,

that he may not receive in punishment
the requital of his deeds

who in desire did keep thy will,

and as the true faith here
united him to the company of the faithful,

so may thy mercy unite him above

to the choirs of angels,

through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.

And let perpetual light shine upon him.

- May he rest in peace.
- Amen.

May his soul, through the mercy of God,
rest in peace.

- Amen.
- Amen.

See how I'm moving your foot?

Now you do it.

Are you trying?

Very good, Emily.

Does Teddy also sleep in this room?

Yes.

Take him out. Quickly.

I'll need to examine him, too.

- What's the diagnosis?
- Do as I say.

Lilian, take Teddy downstairs.

No! Take him out of the house.

- Where?
- It doesn't matter. The porch.

Now.

It's polio, isn't it?

There's no point in speculating.

Is that meant to soothe me?

She has all the symptoms.

We'll need to quarantine her
at the children's hospital immediately.

Mrs. Schroeder?

I can't drive.

You'll have to take us, please.

Easy with those plates.

Boy, I'm talking to you.

I have a name.

And I don't have to remember it.
Now do as you're told.

Lunch, 10 minutes!

Thanks.

I ever bite you, friend?

Huh?

- No.
- Then why are you feeding me dog food?

I serve what they tell me to serve.

I seen room-service leftovers
come back all day,

chicken, mashed potatoes,
chocolate pudding.

- Why don't you serve that?
- Now you been here near a week, Purnsley.

- You know the rules.
- I surely do.

Rules say we ain't good enough to eat
what some cracker throw in the trash.

Taste good to me.

Look at you.

Uncle Toms, gobble up this slop
and say "Thank you, sir, for the privilege."

- Be thankful you've got a job, friend.
- Right.

Twelve hours a day? Six days a week?

I been in jails don't work you this hard.

- He's right about that.
- And they feed you better, too.

I bet he right about that, too.

- You boys have a problem?
- No, sir.

Just discussing
what passes for food around here.

- Your name is Purnsley.
- That's right, chief.

Mr. Purnsley, Lord Purnsley,

Your Great Celestial Majesty,

one more word out of you and you're fired.

Now finish your lunch, or don't,
and get back to work, all of you.

You heard the man.

Eat it up.

Iodine is prepared, Doctor.

- Very good.
- Now just hold my hand.

You're going to feel something
a little bit cold.

It's nothing. They're just preparing you.

- Is he going to give her an injection?
- Syringe is set.

She can't stand needles.

It's called a spinal tap.

The syringe will collect cerebrospinal fluid
which will allow us to confirm the disease.

She's in good hands.
Dr. Holt's an authority on infantile paralysis.

- Mama!
- Nurse.

I'll go in and hold her. It'll calm her down.

That's out of the question.
Polio is highly contagious.

I don't care what happens to me.

Care about the people
you come in contact with.

Mommy! I want...

It's better if you don't look.

Mommy!

Mama!

Your toenails are like talons.

So you're saying I'm like an eagle.

They're rather unpleasant birds,
if you know anything about their habits.

Cozy.

You, me and Nelson Van Alden.

Does Enoch Thompson
strike you as a murderer?

You may as well be reading
the latest Black Mask.

Someone sends a gunman
from Chicago to kill him,

he sits in his office and cracks jokes.

He's dirty up to his elbows.
We already know that.

But the stuff Van Alden's got in there?

These prohis aren't real lawmen.
They're katzenjammer cops.

You just made that up, didn't you?

He's got Thompson ordering
12 homicides with no proof.

Including his mistress's husband.

Schroeder?

He was a bootlegger.

According to Nucky Thompson.

We already have a case.

Why even put Van Alden on the stand?

He'll be handy for the Volstead violations.
We'll rehearse him on those.

And keep him away from small children
and nursing mothers.

Good girl.

I'm your boss, Clifford.

I went to a funeral today.

- Nucky Thompson's father.
- His father is being buried in Belfast.

That's right.
You gave him permission to travel.

But his brother, the sheriff,
put someone in the ground here this morning.

Why didn't you mention this earlier?

- You wanted to sleep with me first.
- Hell's bells, Esther.

It's hard enough to get your attention
on a good day.

Invite the Sheriff in for questioning.

We tried that, remember? He ignored us.

His deputy then. I want some answers.

Belfast. God only knows
what he's doing over there.

Fifty rounds per magazine, .45 caliber.

They called it a trench broom.
You can see why.

A few thousand of these
and we'd blaze a path to Buckingham Palace.

And you invented it, Mr. Thompson?

- Excuse me?
- The Thompson gun?

No. Just a happy coincidence.

Well, how'd you come
to have so many of them?

They're American-made. I'm an American.

- You missed the fireworks.
- Gave the clock a proper thrashing.

Nothing stops you making merry,
huh, Daniel?

No, John, we'll all be dead long enough.

You've news. Let's hear it.

The English have offered a truce.

De Valera's traveling to London to negotiate.

- For what?
- They're offering a free state.

- That's not independence.
- Would you not even hear their proposal?

We'd still be a bloody dominion.

It's enough for De Valera to sit down.

"To the bitter end." Wasn't that the oath?

Who's to say
we haven't reached it?

Is that what you think?

I think there's blood on the ground
sufficient for your lifetime and mine, Patrick.

I'll keep fighting if I must,
and make peace, if it's wise.

His youngest was killed in action last month.

Shot square between the eyes.

Shall we go for a drink?
I know a quiet little place.

Yes?

Sorry?

You're thinking something.

Let's hear it.

Hmm.

At Babette's last week.

With Doyle? That was just a gag.
Besides, it'll keep him in line.

That's not what I meant.

You said a nice girl

and I would settle down.

You will.

You'll see.

That's them.

You're my friend.

Huh?

You're my friend.

You know I am.

Then why did you make fun of me?

Richard, I wasn't.

- Darmody here?
- Yeah!

- Can I call you Waxey?
- Most people do.

Is that short for something
or is it just a nickname?

- You mining for coal in there?
- A piece of meat's stuck.

You're in company, Alfie.

So, I understand
we have someone in common.

- Manny Horvitz.
- Munya.

The man works with animals. He fits right in.

Great minds think alike.

And what else can you offer besides flattery?

I was thinking information.

You lost two men last month.

Herman Kaufman disappeared.

- During a hijacking outside Philly.
- Nathan Klein.

Raccoon chewed off his face
before they found him.

I'm only saying.

Manny did the shooting.

- You know this how?
- I was standing next to him.

- And there was nothing you could do?
- He didn't ask permission.

And Herman? What became of him?

I'd be careful about where I order my cutlets.

- You going to offer me a drink?
- Of course.

Last time I come here,
I deal with Nucky Thompson.

From this point on, you deal with me.
I'll treat you right.

Thank you.

AC, Philadelphia,
we can do big things together, Waxey.

First, Alfred's gonna take care
of some business for me back home.

Unpaid bill at the butcher's.

Manny Horvitz is a dead man.

So before we go any further,

you need to tell me if that's a problem.

Maybe.

But it's not mine.

To the lost.

Is Emily going to die like Daddy?

What? No!

And you mustn't say that again!

I'm sorry.

Pauline, where are you going?

I'm sorry, ma'am.

We're taking every precaution.

I have my own children to worry about.

Sláinte.

- Well?
- Worth the trip.

Time was we were distilling
two million gallons a year.

Lord knows I drank my share.

The rebellion put a stop
to exporting to England?

That was the first blow.
Then the local economy.

But the final nail was your Prohibition.

America was more than 80%
of my foreign sales.

The Fitzgeralds have
run this distillery for 90 years.

I'm sorry for your trouble.

It's only money, I suppose.

I have my health and I have my family.

All these cases are filled with whiskey?

Every one.

Would you consider giving me
10,000 cases on consignment?

If there's peace, I'll be back in business
and we can speak again about making a deal.

- When would that be?
- They say December at the earliest.

Unfortunately,
that time frame doesn't help me.

My regrets.

- But as it stands now...
- You've no use for machine guns.

I'll not go against John.

He's brought us this far

and paid for it with his own blood
along the way.

And be here promptly
next time you're called.

Come on, let's go.
Get those out of here.

Still waiting for delivery on New York street.

Deputy Halloran, Esther Randolph.
Thank you very much for coming in.

A lady lawyer.
That's a heck of a thing.

What's next? Horseless carriages?

They already got those.

Have a seat.

We've asked the Sheriff
to speak with us as well.

- He seems awfully busy.
- Eli?

His father just died.

- And you were at the funeral.
- Well, sure.

- Eli's my friend.
- He's also your boss.

Must make things complicated.

How do you mean?

Someone's a friend,
you can tell them anything,

even your deepest secrets.

But when someone's your boss...

There are all sorts of subjects
you need to keep away from.

Are you two married or something?

- So why did your boss...
- Friend.

...have you ousted as sheriff
after last year's election?

Eli had nothing to do with that.

Because his brother makes all the decisions.
Correct?

Well, Nucky's the boss.

- The boss of Eli.
- The boss of you.

- Except...
- It seems that some people here,

are fed up with getting bossed around.

I stay out of all that.

I patrol the Boardwalk, keep the peace.

Were you keeping the peace
on January 19th, 1920?

- If I was working, then, yeah.
- You were working.

You and your friend Eli
responded to a domestic disturbance

regarding a Hans Schroeder.

- Who?
- Hans Peter Schroeder.

I thought this was about election rigging.

Did we say it wasn't?

- Well, that fella had nothing to do with that.
- So you do know who he was?

I would have to check the files.

Oh, you have files.

Tourist town, people come and go.

But this particular person, he just went.

Remember now, Deputy?

We're not after you.

We're after the men who boss you around.

And we're prepared to do a lot for our friends.

I don't know what you're talking about.
But I know the law.

And I don't have to go on sitting here
if I don't want to.

Do I?

Thank you for giving us your time.

We'll be sure to let Sheriff Thompson know
that you stood up for him.

Hey, do you think you can help me
with this sack of Philly mail?

You stroll back here on your own some?

I thought you said anytime I need to talk...

Mr. White.

You and me, we had our little fracas, huh?

Got off on the wambly foot is all.

- We copacetic now.
- Sweet as crackerjack.

Here you in my town,

job in a fine hotel,

end of summer you go back to Baltimore
with a plug of green in the pocket,

a little gold in your mouth.

All turn out for the best.

That's how I see the world.

- You got some news for me?
- Yes, sir.

I'm pushing my luck,
according to the boss man.

Open my flytrap one more time,
he fire me just like that.

Did he now?

How them other boys feel about it?

They be simmering, Mr. White.

Just waiting on me to give them the word.

So go on and give it to them.

Arms for whiskey.

I'd buy the liquor if I could.
I don't have the cash.

Do you even have the weapons?

Why would you think I didn't?

I saw a dozen guns in a coffin
and a stunt in a field.

Can you really afford
to send me back empty-handed?

My lot to live with if I do.

Has Britain released
any of your imprisoned men?

Stopped seizing your guns and ammunition?

Did they not just land
another 15,000 troops on your soil

and threaten martial law?

Mr. McGarrigle, what have the British
offered you in the form of good faith?

This is the pinch of the game.

If the fighting's to stop,
one must take the lead.

That strategy might put your people at risk.

A risk I'm willing to take.

You came to me in your time of need.
I helped you without hesitation.

I'm asking you to do the same.

And what's our cause to you, sir?

I beg your pardon?

Will you think on the thousands that'll die,

cut down by the Thompson guns
you'll put in our hands?

Or will you laze about your cabin
as you sail back across the sea,

climb into your berth
and count yourself to sleep?

Let's not lie to each other, Mr. McGarrigle.

Whenever men like you need to win,
you'll turn to men like me.

Thank you for dinner.

You can take me back to the farm.

A word with you.

What's been your business with him?

I've done as ordered

and gone about my work.

He's after nothing but himself.

Fair to say he's in his own war.

- For what?
- A great pile of dosh.

- Is that all they fight for?
- It seems to keep them busy.

You've changed.

I've not.

- You'll stay then, now you're back.
- No, I'm no peacemaker, sir.

You've a head on your shoulders.

I've known it since the first day
you come to me. I want you close.

Every battle ends, boy.

You'll have to understand that.

Will you help me?

Well, I'll serve as needed.

We're closed!

Let me in!

We're closed!

I have an emergency!

The pipes burst in our kitchen.

I need two chickens for the meal!

Go to the Polack. He's open.

Please. I'm begging here.

What do I have to do?

All right already. The one day I get to myself.

Friend, tell me you happy
putting that jackshit in your mouth.

Happy to get paid every week, I know that.

Mmm-hmm.
- $15 a week?

The man upstairs bring home
10 times that much.

And for doing what?
He surely ain't washing no dishes.

Ain't got his head over a stove all day.

Or gutting fish till his hand bleed.

Don't kowtow to, "Come here, boy.

"Fetch me some water, boy.
Send this steak back, boy."

- Back to work, fellas.
- Say who?

The manager be along any minute now.

Manager.

Y'all been swallowing shit
one way or another for how long now?

- Working here going on four years.
- Five for me.

- Same here.
- That's right.

Y'all ever get a raise?

- Not a one.
- Nope.

Seems like this place
be taking us all for granted.

- They do.
- Yeah, you right. They do.

Seems like they don't appreciate
the day in and day out.

- They don't.
- Ain't nothing to be done about it.

Cry and complains.

All they gonna do
is just bring in another pair of hands.

What if we all cry and complain?
They gonna replace us all?

- They might do.
- Really now?

Every working Negro from the northside?

What if we all say
we ain't gonna eat this slop?

Ain't gonna work for this wage?

What they gonna do then?

Break's over!

Did you hear what I said?
Come on, back to work.

- Ain't had lunch yet.
- Well, what's that in your lap?

Looks to me like it came out
the wrong end of a mule.

Still griping about the free food,
Mr. Purnsley?

What food?

I'll tell you what,
you can gripe all you want on your own time.

You're fired.

You hear me? You're through. Now get out!

What, do you got wax in those ears?

I said you're fired, boy.

Hey, you get out before I call the police.

We want a raise, every single last one of us.

And a lunch you'd eat yourself.

You get back to work, Otis.

You've got orders to prepare, don't you?
Well, then do it.

Hey, Louis, there's a dozen crates of fish
that need to be scaled.

- Franklin, you wash those dishes.
- Yes, sir.

All right, don't be stupid, gentlemen.
You've all got exactly five seconds to...

You wooly-headed ignorant coon.

- We sick of this food!
- We want a raise!

- Kiss our ass!
- Get out of here, man!

Right now!

- Thank you for your hospitality.
- My door is always open.

So, it's back to America.

- Empty-handed.
- You'll land on your feet, I've no doubt.

I'm not so sure.

I was told you're all optimists over there.

Not the Irish ones.

Please.

Bill, see Mr. Thompson gets safely to the port.

I will, John.

You'll deal with me now.

1,000 machine guns
for 10,000 cases of whiskey.

There's that big left!
Dempsey catches Carpentier on the nose!

Carpentier reels backward,
his nose bleeding now.

- Dempsey attacks. Carpentier blocks a right.
- Yes!

Dempsey lands a left to the body.

Dempsey unleashes a flurry of raging fists.

Carpentier launches a left,
a right and another right.

A left from Dempsey to the ribs.

They're tied up now.
Referee Harry Ertle breaks up the clinch.

Dempsey uncorks a right.
Carpentier throws a left,

then a big right that hits Dempsey
on the cheekbone.

The champ...
The champ looks stunned for a moment.

Shaking it off now,
a spray of sweat spattering the canvas

on this sweltering day of July the 2nd.

Carpentier throws a left uppercut
that finds nothing but air.

Dempsey responds with a right. They clinch.

That's the end of round two.

A veritable "Who's Who"
of celebrities and titans of industry.

Tom Mix, Henry Ford, George M. Cohan,

Jolson, Rockefeller,
Astor, Gould and Vanderbilt,

all paying a pretty penny
to see the battle of the century.

It's official now. This is the first boxing match
in history to top $1 million at the gate.

And these two Goliaths
have not disappointed.

By my estimation,
the first round belonged to the champion.

But in round two, Carpentier bounced back,

landing a vicious right to the head
that sent Dempsey reeling.

There's the bell for the start of round three.

Dempsey jabs.

Carpentier responds with a left-right
combination that doesn't land.

A right from Dempsey
drives Carpentier into a neutral corner.

And a solid left.
Carpentier follows with a right.

Now both fighters dance around each other,

looking for the opportunity
to deliver a knockout blow.

Carpentier rushes Dempsey,
fires a shot to the head.

Dempsey responds with a right,
then a flurry of jabs.

Carpentier covering up.

Having been booed at the start of this fight,
the crowd is now cheering for Dempsey.

Carpentier backs away,
throws a right that is short.

Dempsey presses the challenger,
making him circle the ring.

There's a left-right for Dempsey.

The Frenchman follows with a right
to the body and another.

Carpentier's punches land
but seem to have no effect on the champion.

Dempsey keeps coming like a freight train
in the dark of night.

He's got him now.

Another right, then a left.
Carpentier grabs Dempsey.

The champ takes the opportunity
to hurl a few short jabs

- to the midsection.
- He's got him!

The referee Harry Ertle breaks them up.

- Carpentier comes back with a right.
- Who's winning?

- What round is it?
- It's pretty even. It's the third round.

Then again. And another!

Dempsey finishes off the barrage with a left.
Four straight shots!

Carpentier backs away. Dempsey follows,
swings and lands a big left!

Carpentier is against the ropes now.

He throws a left hook. And another.

But Dempsey is not the world champion
for nothing, ladies and gentlemen.

Here he comes right back.
Three left uppercuts to Carpentier's head.

Then a left and a right.

The Frenchman seems dazzled
by Dempsey's superior speed and strength.

Forgive me for what I've brought upon you.

There's the bell.

Dempsey circles, stalking Carpentier.

Don't you girls want to listen to the fight?

We're more interested in the crowd.

- Did you come alone?
- We got dressed all by ourselves, too.

You shouldn't pass notes out to strangers.

You're not a stranger.

- I'm sorry, have we met?
- Not exactly but...

Everyone knows who the new king is.

We saw you at Babette's.

Ooh.

I'm gonna be first.

Then another
catches Dempsey on the cheek.

The champ is stung.
His head collapses on Carpentier's shoulder.

You're a little drunk.

- Gold star.
- All hail.

What's the matter?

Hey, he's with me.

Aren't you?

What the hell?
Something to talk about when we're old.

And another and another.
The crowd's on its feet cheering.

Dempsey stalks forward. Carpentier retreats.

Dempsey keeps coming.
The Frenchman throws a left.

That's not going to stop the champ.
He plows forward, throwing punches at will.

Carpentier puts his head down,
tries to fend off the storm of fists.

Dempsey bores in, pummels the Frenchman,

landing furious blow after blow
to Carpentier's head and body.

Dempsey indisputably in charge now,
running all four corners of this ring,

a brutal lesson in American pugilism
for the conquered Gaul.

Two telegrams.

Here we go.

How long did you know McGarrigle?

Um...

I was 17 with an itch to fight.

I tried to volunteer and he turned me down.

Twice.

Did they tell you?

- About the truce?
- About what was going to happen.

Nothing I could say would stop it.

And you made your deal.
That's what we came for.

Besides, I...

I don't live here anymore.

Owen.

I don't like secrets.

From your lawyer,

"Forget Dempsey. Judge set trial date,
August 23rd. Let the real battle begin."

Who's the other from?

Mrs. Schroeder. "Come home..."

"Emily has polio."

All aboard!

The champ throws a left
that hits Carpentier in the face.

The Frenchman responds
with a right that misses.

Dempsey uncorks a right that lands.
Then another.

And another! And another!
The crowd is on its feet cheering.

Dempsey stalks forward. Carpentier retreats.

Dempsey keeps coming.
The Frenchman throws a left.

That's not going to stop the champ.
He plows forward, throwing punches at will.

Carpentier puts his head down,
tries to fend off the storm of fists.

Dempsey bores in, pummels the Frenchman,

landing furious blow after blow
to Carpentier's head and body.

The crowd is on its feet.
Carpentier is in trouble.

He hangs on Dempsey's shoulder.
Referee Ertle separates them.

My word!
Now it's Carpentier throwing a stiff left.

Then another one! Followed by a right.

But the champ, the champ is not fazed.

He comes back with a left hook,
then a thundering right to the face.

And Carpentier is down!
The Frenchman is down!

The count starts, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight,

and Carpentier is up. He's up!

Carpentier starts toward Dempsey.
The champ rushes him.

Carpentier throws a right
that Dempsey deflects.

Then the champ unleashes a punishing right
to the chest and a left uppercut to the jaw.

And Carpentier is down again!
He's down again on the canvas!

Three, four, five. Carpentier is on his back
trying to get up. The count continues.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. That's it!

Carpentier is out! At one minute
and 16 seconds into the fourth round,

Jack Dempsey has knocked out
Georges Carpentier

to remain the heavyweight
champion of the world!