Ironside

Shoot!

Shoot!

Shoot!

Shoot!

Shoot!

Oh, shut up your cackling.

Girl, it's way past your bedtime.

Look, I'm not your keeper, I'm a guest here.

I don't even like eggs.

Vacation.

You've been working too hard.

Why don't you go up to my place in the country and relax?

Mr. Ironside?

Ironside?

Herman, get an ambulance over to Commissioner Randall's place right away.

He's been shot.

Not the commissioner, that detective.

Ironside.

Ironside.

The Ironside.

And now, for a report on national news, we take you directly, but first,

from Sonoma County, a police report that San Francisco's chief of detectives,

Robert Ironside, was shot by an unknown assailant last night.

The attack occurred on a chicken farm in Glen Ellen, owned by Police Commissioner

Dennis Randall, where Ironside, at 46, the...

city's youngest chief of detectives, was spending his first vacation in a quarter of a century on the force.

Doctors at St. Mary's Hospital in Sonoma describe his condition as critical.

And now, to New York.

Bob, Ironside was a cop's cop.

I know you don't understand that, and neither will your readers.

But you might as well put it in.

People expect it.

Well, I can cover for you.

I thought maybe, you know, with Ironside.

You know what he used to tell me?

The only excuse for a policeman taking a day off is death.

His own.

If it wasn't for Ironside, I'd still be a shoplifter.

He made me understand I had a talent.

He was a policeman.

But he had an eye for the finer things in life.

You knew him, didn't you?

Yes.

Is it true that he got you to join the force?

You're a Whitfield, aren't you?

I mean, one of the Whitfields.

Yes.

Yes, I am a Whitfield.

I am also a graduate of Briarcliff and Swarthmore.

And I'm on the force because...

I was a witness at a Jewel robbery three years ago.

And Chief Ironside said that I had excellent powers of observation.

For abroad, he said.

Then he told you to go to the police academy.

He did not.

He told me not to.

He said that police work would break my heart.

Excuse me.

Tina found this.

The only sound footage of Ironside ever made.

Put it on, honey.

Sure.

Has it ever been used?

Couldn't be.

Political reasons.

We'll see.

Whenever you're ready, Dave.

We can make the network with a quickie special if he goes today.

Shot in the night on a lonely Glen Ellen chicken farm brought

an end to a career in detection that spanned three decades.

Baseball.

Baseball met Joe DiMaggio when he arrived on the force, met Willie Mays when, here we go.

He's speaking at the Police Academy graduation in 1959.

And now a few words from Chief of Detectives Robert Ironside.

The mayor just told you some lies, boys.

But don't get mad at him.

He figures if he told you the truth, you'd all quit.

Now, I know you won't, because you're all out of your flaming minds anyway,

or you wouldn't be here.

The truth is, you're not going to earn the respect of any flaming community.

Most of the citizens won't notice you any more than they would a streetlight.

Only when you're not there, they'll holler the way they would if the streetlight went out.

Most of them figure you're on the take, and the rest of them will try to put you there.

One or two of you will go on the take, and the rest of you will be hated for it.

Right, Commissioner?

He's not going to tell you either.

So, you'll do the best you can.

You'll get no thanks for it.

And one day, you'll stop a bullet.

And they'll decide you weren't a brute, or a crook, or incompetent.

Just a cop.

A man trying to do an impossible job.

And down at the station house, the squad will take up a collection for

your widow, if you've been silly enough to get married.

All right, that'll be that.

Well, welcome aboard, boys.

Is that a great lead for an obit?

Someday you'll stop a bullet.

Did he ever get married?

To the force.

Ah, I mean to a woman.

Yeah, that too.

But she died.

Wouldn't have worked out anyway.

Can't be married to two wives.

Well, go ahead, Polish it up.

You doing the Ironside wrap-up?

Yeah.

Forget it.

He spooled us again.

Now they say he's gonna live.

Who?

I'm Sister Agatha, Mr. Ironside.

You are in St. Mary's, in Sonoma.

Who blessed it, not where?

Now, you've got to rest.

And I already told you who I am.

Are you him?

There's no one else here.

Oh, him.

Slav who did it.

Who shot me?

Damn it.

Oh, you hush now.

They don't know who shot you.

What day is this?

Thursday night.

Who was shot?

Tuesday night.

These two don't know.

Damn it.

What are we paying them for?

Take off your flaming hat, Ed.

You're in the flaming house.

We are a little testy this morning.

I'll take that.

Thank you, I've got it.

Just take his coat and hat.

The Great Bush goes over here.

Thank you.

If you like, I'll take that, too.

I have to keep that.

I'm on duty.

Sergeant Brown, Sergeant Agatha, you two ought to get along well together.

You're both duty happy.

Well, what are you waiting for?

The doctor ordered me to stay.

The doctor ordered me not to turn over.

What about my case?

They expect to make an arrest within 24 hours.

Meaning they haven't got a flaming notion.

Meaning they haven't got a flaming...

Exactly that.

I gotta get a phone.

Sister!

Sister!

I checked with your doctor.

A drink before dinner is all right.

Where's the whiskey?

Oh, you'll think of something.

I, uh, have thought of something.

I need a phone.

Not a chance.

Give me the commissioner's office.

Maxine, is the boss in?

Me, Ironside, who'd you think?

No, only the good die young.

He's where?

Conference with who?

Yes, you do that.

Pacific Union Club?

I want Commissioner Dennis Randall.

He isn't.

All right, give me the steam room, please.

Ernie, this is me at table three.

There's a fellow lying on his back under a sheet, sleeping and sweating.

Stick a phone under his nose, will you?

Commissioner, I am an irate taxpayer, and I demand to know what is being done in

the investigation of the dastardly attack on a splendid American, Chief Robert Ironside.

I'm feeling fine, Dennis.

Now, answer my question.

I thought so.

Oh, Keeley's all right for a young fellow.

No, no, I don't want you to put anybody else on it.

I'll take it over myself.

Myself.

M-Y-S...

Hold on.

The commissioner wants to know how quick I can get back to take over my case.

Well?

I want to talk to you about that.

Later.

This is probably costing me a nickel a minute.

How long?

Well, you should be able to leave here in about two weeks, but there are...

I'll see you a week from Sunday, Rosie's place.

Goodbye, Commissioner.

Well, spit it out.

Let me guess.

My health insurance has run out and you need this room for a very rich man with the gout.