Nucky decides to bring Arnold Rothstein in on the Tampa land deal, at least until the normally unflappable A.R. loses control ever so slightly after a night of losing at cards. That's OK, where Nucky is concerned, because Meyer Lansky is prepared to step in for Rothstein (and in more ways than just a stake in the land deal).
Meanwhile, Eddie Kessler is learning that with a moderate uptick in power comes great responsibility, as he's targeted — after a hell of a good time getting to know Ralph Capone — by Bureau of Investigation agents. Knox's plan to take down Nucky — with an eye to the overall web of criminals across the United States — involves him infiltrating Nucky's world by focusing on the weakest link. Which would be Eddie. And the Capone brothers are having a grand ol' time in Chicago, throwing people out of windows.
Machinations continue at the Onyx Club, with Dunn Purnsley lying about a dying relative in order to skip off work, just so he can have a meeting with Narcisse. Chalky's a little too starstruck with Daughter Maitland to pay too much attention to what's going on behind his back.
After last week's humiliation — in which his classmates learned from his engorged penis that he wanted to have sex with Doris, the shame — Willie plans revenge on Henry, and spikes his drink with a concoction that's supposed to make him crap his pants. It winds up killing him, gruesomely. So it looks like we're going to continue to spend a lot more time on Fast Times at Temple University. Well, here's hoping the crazy dancing blonde student is around for all of it.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. Somehow this must be how the punchline "'Rectum'? Damn near killed 'im!" originated. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.
In Chicago, a heavyset gangster named Jake is undone by a set of stairs whilst making his collections for the Capones — both in the sense that he has difficulty ascending them, and the much more rapid descent may kill him. He lies groaning on the landing, while we reflect on the fact that — up until Jake took a tumble — this was the most cheerful mob collection probably ever seen on television or in movies. Seriously, Jake and the guy paying up practically asked about each other's kids.
Over in Washington, D.C., Agent Knox is briefing a roomful of irreverent bureau agents on the Nucky Thompson hierarchy. The agents crack wise until the humorless J. Edgar Hoover decides to remind them that the men they're discussing are murderers. But Knox is looking at the bigger picture: the country-wide network of criminals, including Johnny Torrio and Waxy Gordon. Hoover's not convinced that it's an overarching conspiracy or anything -- even criminals have friends, he says. Knox says he'll prove it by finding the weakest link in Nucky Thompson's chain, and break it.
Speaking of Nucky: He's back from Florida, and from the way he's talking to Eddie — demanding a sandwich and a beer — he seems to have forgotten the promotion he gave him. Eddie politely says he'll get Tom to do all the shit that Nucky is ordering Eddie to do, and Nucky's all, "Oh right, that." I mean, if Nucky'd known that promoting Eddie would mean he might have to wait a little while longer to have a beer, he never would have done it. Tom can't do it right now because he's on his way back from the train station. Nucky wants Eddie — that is, Tom — to make sure A.R.'s got everything he needs. "I want him receptive to this offer," says Nucky. Eddie's attending to the business Nucky has given him to do, with the bank deposits or whatever, and positively glows over Nucky saying he has his utmost confidence in Eddie, even if Nucky's saying it mainly to keep Eddie from bugging him. And Eddie's even more pleased when Nucky sends him to the train station to meet a "Mr. Brown" and exchange cash for Mr. Brown's package. It's all very cloak and dagger, with the instructions to wear a white carnation in his lapel. Eddie solemnly shows Nucky the weapon he's got stashed up his sleeve, and Nucky tells him to not be so melodramatic: "It's only money." Maybe Nucky can explain what else he has going for him other than money?
Over at the Onyx Club, Daughter Maitland is rehearsing. I have no idea if this actress is also a singer, but whoever's doing the singing — I could listen to it all day long. So could Chalky; he hangs out and listens for a while, but is a little standoffish when Daughter halts rehearsal for some banter. Chalky allows that her accompanist can play, and Daughter's all, essentially, "What about me?" Chalky says he's got no complaints. "No compliments, either," she says, and Chalky tells her to just go on singing "'til the folks need to hear you." He heads for the bar, Daughter looking pissed, like she didn't get the reaction she was looking for.
Frank tells Stu to relax and get out of the car. Stu's face is still bloodied from O'Banion's shotgun gag, and he says he can walk; he just fell asleep in the back of the truck. He's shocked to then spot Van Alden, and then assures the three men that he won't say anything. The Capones charitably offer Stu a head start, and he takes it, running away, and Frank hands Van Alden his gun. "What do you want me to do?" says Van Alden, and Al points out that it makes no difference to them if Stu tells O'Banion about this…
It only takes Van Alden a second or two to grab the gun, and he fires a couple of shots, clipping Stu, who falls, and then the gun jams. That's OK— Al's got this; he lets loose with the Tommy gun, peppering Stu and the surrounding trees, and then screams with laughter, Van Alden looking on, horrified as usual.
It's dawn at Temple, with Willie covering his head with his pillow against the sunlight and some sort of commotion building nearby. Scootch, in his housecoat, tells Willie he needs to get up.
In the hallway, a crowd of whispering boys has gathered around the bathroom. Willie pushes his way in, where he finds Henry dead on the floor, eyes open, soaked in blood that seems to have come from his still-dripping mouth. "He kept going to the bathroom all night, I heard him," says one of the students. Didn't hear his bloody screams as he died, though! On the plus side, Henry's roommate gets an automatic 4.0 for the year, right?
Back at the dreariest poker game ever, Rothstein is still losing, and it's at the point where he's requesting fresh packs from the dealer. No, not that fresh pack, a different fresh pack! Lansky quietly suggests they call it a night, but Rothstein says, "It's early yet." Well, technically he's right, since it's dawn. Meyer sighs and sits down. Dude, he's still gotta take the babysitter home after this!
Anyway, Rothstein doesn't "like the feel" of the deck the dealer just opened, and insists on a new one. The idiot dealer says he just opened that one, and Meyer tries to signal something to the dealer, but that only pisses Rothstein off more, who orders the dealer to look at him -- the player -- not Lansky.
Lansky tries one more time with A.R., leaning in and whispering, "Wouldn't it be best people don't see you like this?" That ship has arguably sailed, but that finally gets to Rothstein, who takes a long look at Lansky, says, "Okey-cokely, Meyer," and stands up from the table, pocketing the few chips he has left. "I've relished the action," he says. He leaves, and that stupid heckler gets in one last dig: "Thanks for the pocket change, Goldstein." Rothstein turns around and comes back, fake-smiling at the guy. "Rothstein," he says. The heckler just tosses an ante on the pot for the round.
Dunn's waiting for Chalky, and Chalky still is giving him a pretty cold shoulder. Dunn says his mom is sick — perhaps pertussis, perhaps consumption, and again I would really just like to listen to a super-long list of old-timey illnesses. Maybe she's got dropsy! How about the grippe! — and she's been asking for him. The first question Chalky has is whether Dunn's got someone who can make his collections. Purnsley does, and at any rate he'll be back from Baltimore in two days. Chalky takes a long, long time to answer — taking time to sniff a liquor bottle first. "You got family to tend to, go on and tend to 'em," says Chalky, who won't even look at Dunn. If he had, he'd see the glare of utter hatred from Dunn. I mean, he has to be giving off actual radiant heat.
At O'Banion's flower shop, Van Alden must be loving his new duty of setting up flowerpots for O'Banion to blast with a shotgun. O'Banion bets his other goon that he'll need both barrels to hit one, and the goon confidently tells him he bagged four "filthy-pinos" in the summer of '01. I take it he means "Filipinos," and he fought in the Philippine-American war. He sights the gun, but when he fires, the cartridge explodes in smoke in his face, and he goes down, screaming about losing an eye, all of which is much to O'Banion's merriment. As usual, Van Alden takes in the scene before him with a mixture of disgust and constipation. The goon — do we know his name? I can't keep a lot of the hangers-on straight — yells at O'Banion until O'Banion stops laughing and says it was just a joke: Do you want him getting sore at you? That calms Ol' Blindy down, and then O'Banion's lieutenant or whatever comes in — pissed that he missed the maiming of Ol' Blindy — and then passes along the news of what happened to the "bloater" who does collections for the Capones. O'Banion would love to do a wreath for one of the guineas, but instead he'll settle for sending Van Alden over to the hospital with some day-old daisies. Van Alden says he'd prefer to avoid the Capones — pointing out the still-healing wound on his head he got the last time O'Banion sent him. O'Banion's response is to just fire his shotgun into the air, and Van Alden gets the message. Stupid Van Alden! They just made the half-blind go deliver beer before he's allowed to lie down and bleed to death — at some point Van Alden will figure out arguing is pointless (not to mention possibly lethal). At any rate, awesome things tend to happen to Van Alden when he hangs out with the Capones, so I'm perking up. Really, I wouldn't care if it's not plausible for O'Banion to say, "Head over to Cicero where you'll get hit in the face with a chair a bunch of times," and I'd take it.
Over at the Thompson house, Eli strolls into Willie's room with a fresh load of folded laundry, and finds his son asleep on his textbooks. For a guy who broke his son's balls over, you know, having friends at university, Eli's surprisingly good-humored at Willie's lapse in 24/7 studying. He points out the laundry and tells Willie to thank his mother, and then picks up the book he's reading: "Tess of the de — urber?" It's Tess of the d'Urbervilles, which Eli can't say. Willie's all, "Beats me," which is not what his father wants to hear at two-hundred dollars a semester.
But Eli's got another reason for coming; his wife said Willie's been moping around the house. Willie's reluctant to discuss anything, waving off his dad's guesses of "grades?" or "a girl?" Willie says, "I'm just not happy there." You can imagine Eli's sympathy: "You're there to get an education. You think I'm happy?" As inspiring a speech as this is, it fails to cheer Willie up. He complains about the other guys, and apparently Eli can't conceive of a world where being the son of a disgraced sheriff fails to make a kid the most important student at school: "You're a Thompson. Who are they?" Well, he's the only one there from Atlantic City, for one thing, but for Eli, that's just because he's the only boy from Atlantic City anyone needs to know. Eli reminds his son that he's there to make something of himself, so he needs to try harder. Oh, and Eli doesn't want to hear any more of his son's first-world problems anymore. Aw, it's just like The Cosby Show! Eli manages to soften up a bit as he reminds his son that he's got broad shoulders: "Remember why you're there. Do what you gotta do."
We're well into Episode Four with still no sign of Margaret, so it's at the point now where I see a nurse and I assume that it's a Margaret scene coming, thinking that wherever she is she's either receiving an abortion or telling someone else to get one.
But it's just the hospital where the Capones' Jake is being treated. Al's throwing Jake's hospital food in the trash, while Frank's handing him ricotta with white sauce, to calm his stomach. Jake tells them he'll be out in a week, and he only missed three pickups. Good lord! The Capones are actually much more understanding than many employers I've had. And I don't recall any time that I needed time off for sickness that resulted in my boss visiting me in the hospital with a wad of cash and offering to give some to the nurses so I could get a nice sponge bath. Then Al and Frank start reminiscing about the last time they did pickups together, which was back when they were in the Five Points Gang. Capone guffaws, saying he's still got splinters from the guy with wooden teeth, and the thing you know, the Capones are planning to get back in the saddle.
That's when Van Alden shows up — "Oh! Who sent for the undertaker!" yells Al — with a sad bouquet of daisies in his hand. "Hello. These are the flowers you ordered," he says stiffly, and Al and Frank take the shitty little clutch of flowers as an insult (which it was supposed to be, of course), and Al tells Frank this is what they get with Frank's "soft soap" for O'Banion. Frank asks how Van Alden's "melon" is, and Van Alden admits it could have been worse. "You're right. It could have been me," says Frank. Capone asks if "Deano" misses them, and Van Alden is all, "You know O'Banion: always jocular." He pronounces "jocular" like the rest of us would say "syphilitic." Van Alden's not forthcoming with details on the two new speakeasies that Al heard O'Banion opened, and when Van Alden tries to head for the door — saying O'Banion's waiting — Al says, "He can wait," and smirks. Van Alden pretends to smile agreeably.
Back at the Onyx, Nucky is making the Florida land pitch to Arnold Rothstein, whose understanding is that Florida land is "played out." But you're not buying land, you're buying opportunity, wheedles Nucky: "Like 'Frisco in '48," he says. Rothstein chuckles, because it's not like gold has been discovered in Florida. But Nucky says it's better: "We've got water on three sides, half a mile from the Atlantic Coast rail line," he says, and Eli says a trawler can reach the Bahamas in twenty-two hours, Havana in twenty-eight, and Rothstein finally gets it: rum. Eli lays out the plan: McCoy's boats take the rum up the coast to Atlantic City — or New York, Nucky adds — and Rothstein's figuring out the rest: They return with whisky. He wants to know if there's any competition, and Nucky says there's none of any consequence, as long as they plant their flag now. Plus, McCoy's pretty handy with a hatchet. I confess to being a little curious about the aftermath of that, but that may come another day. As for competition closer to home? Meyer Lansky points out Joe Masseria won't go past Brooklyn.
Rothstein seems to be at least partially considering it; Nucky says he needs a partner "with a level head." And a half-million dollars, points out Rothstein, although that's no more risk than Nucky himself is putting up. And you know how he likes to avoid risk! Things get a little stagey as Rothstein crosses the floor to talk to Nucky's reflection in a mirror — has anyone ever done that in real life? Ever? I mean, apart from at a barbershop or hair salon. Rothstein wants to know who he should believe: Old Nucky who was supposedly happy with what he had, or New Nucky: Captain Tallahassee Whisky Baron. Nucky says circumstances and people change. Rothstein's skeptical though, and Nucky acknowledges that last year took a toll on everybody, but Rothstein can either wallow in it or sack up and get back to doing what they've been, historically, pretty good at: Long setups, low payoffs? No, making money! Rothstein says he'll mull it over playing poker, as Nucky needs an answer this evening. Nucky says perhaps he'll join him later, which Rothstein likes, saying that you don't really know a man until you play cards with him. This is true for reasons Rothstein doesn't know yet. Rothstein leaves, then Meyer, and the brothers Nucky confer. Eli wonders if Nucky should trust Rothstein. "You know anyone else with that kind of money?" asks Nucky. Well … don't they know many people with that kind of money?
Over in the Harlem office of the Universal Negro Improvement Association, Dunn Purnsley is buttering up Narcisse's office. Why, Purnsley appears to have been lying about his mom being sick! Narcisse says he finds it ostentatious; it's actually the office of (Marcus) Garvey, who is currently fighting deportation. Purnsley asks what Garvey did. "He founded this organization," says Narcisse simply. He wants to get to the point: he takes it by Purnsley's presence that he "is a negro in need of improvement." Purnsley just smiles and proudly puts an envelope (presumably the cash-filled kind) down on Narcisse's desk. Narcisse's eyes widen slightly, which for him is a thunderclap of outrage. "You are far from home," says Narcisse, which — noting Dunn's broad features — he guesses is either Senegambia or Loango.
Purnsley explains that "the green" is from the powder, and a very aggrieved Narcisse (that'd be Dr. Narcisse to you, Purnsley, and everyone else) says this is the office of the Universal Negro Improvement Association. "This is not that," says Narcisse, his eyes flicking from Purnsley to the cash. Purnsley thought Narcisse would be pleased by his initiative, but instead he's pissed that his explicit order — to meet in Atlantic City — was ignored. "It's a shame you wasted your trip, Mr. Purnsley," says Narcisse, raising his hand to silence Dunn's explanations, and won't even look at him — much like Purnsley's current employer — and Purnsley leaves, looking not overly impressed. Of course, once Purnsley's gone, Narcisse pockets the envelope.
Ralph Capone is at the train station, looking around, and finally spots Eddie standing with the whitest carnationest white carnation in his lapel. "You should take out an ad, why don't you," says Ralph to stiff Eddie. Ralph would like the money now please, but is annoyed when by-the-book Eddie awaits the password, but delivers it anyone: "You got a package for Mr. Brown?" Yep. It's from Mr. Pink!
Job done, Eddie wants to go, but Ralph is looking for a bite to eat that's better than the usual train station fare. And I guess he's lonely, what with Al and Frank livin' it up back in Chicago while he runs errands, because he convinces an initially reluctant Eddie to escort him to The Knife and Fork for some steak n' spuds. "I eat here again, I'll get the trots," says Ralph, and Eddie comes around and offers him a lift.
Should we see what Margaret's up to? Or should we head over to Temple University for a plot that no doubt will have wider repercussions but right now just seems to be wasting time?
The latter, of course. Willie and his buddy check on the remaining liquor -- there's only a few bottles left, for about twenty expected people. Does Willie really want to go through all this again? His buddy sheepishly says that he was "sozzled" last time, or else he wouldn't have let the Boner-Shaming Gang bust in on Willie and Doris. Willie accepts this, and says it's only due to his fear of what his dad would so to him that he didn't take out a few of Henry's teeth. "Probably just have his dad buy him new ones," says Willie's buddy, and they both laugh. Ha ha, fathers providing dental care for their children! Willie's buddy -- did we get a name yet? Is it something 1920s hilarious, like Dink? Or Scootch? Or Gigglin' Jake? -- reminds Willie that Henry will be there tonight. But Willie's got a plan: cut three bottles into six, which should be enough to get everybody tight. Uh, I know they're not experienced drinkers, but if the six bottles of watered-down booze is enough to get everyone drunk, then so are the three non-diluted bottles. Meanwhile, there's a partially full bottle that Willie's got for his "ol' pal Henry." Scootch looks at Willie, unsure if he's supposed to smile or what.
It's Capone collection time, with Frank and Al bringing Van Alden on the road with them and studiously ignoring Van Alden's discomfited excuses as to why he's got to get home, like his wife cooking some sort of disgusting stew or something. The Capones are at the door of one Jerry Flancie. Frank and Al play charming gangster/pushy gangster with the woman who answers the door, Frank convincing her that they've "come a long way to see our pal," and also possibly to have sex with him later. She lets them in so they can go upstairs to Flancie's door. We stay outside, though, getting to hear just the sounds of someone banging on a door, someone yelling -- and then Flancie comes flying out a second-storey window, landing on the roof of the Model T parked on the street. Judging from Al's grin through the broken glass, he could not be prouder. Van Alden looks out the window, grimacing.
Over at the Onyx, Eli's watching people dance from Nucky's sitting room, when Nucky asks him if he thinks he can run things if the Tampa thing pans out. He's surprised to hear Nucky's considering moving, but Nucky says McCoy's a good man but can't build a city from the ground up. But this is home, says Eli. "You've got family." "You've got family," says Nucky. Eli takes offense to this, and you're thinking he has a point, and then you remember that Eli did once try to take Nucky down. Nucky knows what he means, but still says it's not the same. Eli says whatever Nucky needs, he'll take care of it, and appears to be touched that his brother would consider him for it. Nucky wants Eli to bring the money to Tampa if Rothstein kicks in; Eli's reluctant to be far away from Willie and his "growing pains" at university, but agrees, since Nucky says it'll be four days, tops.
Chalky comes in to let Nucky know that Rothstein -- who bought in to the poker game for $100,000 -- is requesting the pleasure of Nucky's company, although judging from Chalky's face, "pleasure" might be stretching it.
Speaking of Willie and his growing pains, Willie and his buddy have busted into a science lab and are taking stock of all the chemicals and substances there, some of which are under lock and key. Scootch suggests castor oil, which Willie says isn't strong enough, and then "milk of magnesia," because when they broke it down in class, he "got the squirts" just sniffing it. "I like your thinkin', Lincoln," says Willie, who decides they'll whip up their own batch. And just like that, a real sense of dread creeps over the proceedings, as Willie looks through the ingredients based on their best recollections of what milk of magnesia is made from.
You know, I could probably stand to watch the adventures of Eddie Cantor and Ralph Capone all day? They're eating together, Eddie sniffing at Ralph dousing his steak in sauce, and Ralph suggesting Eddie come to Chicago where he can get a prime rib the size of a manhole cover. And in Chicago there are "lot of Krauts" so Eddie would feel right at home. Presumably as long as he doesn't baffle them like he does Ralph here by using the term "chargé d'affaires" to describe what he does for Nucky.
The wine continues to flow (Eddie not stopping drinking so as to not make Ralph drink alone) and the two continue getting to know each other, discussing last summer's bloodbath between Nucky and Rosetti. Eddie seems a little proud to have a war story to tell, and Ralph explains that he runs a bottling plant and makes sure the books look good. Eddie talks about his two sons, who are grown and living in Germany. Sure, lotta Krauts in Germany! One's an assistant to a burgermeister (which Ralph thinks is a chef and Eddie lets that go) and the other is a dental surgeon. Eddie came over after their mother died to start a new life, which Ralph can relate to, what with coming from New York all the way to Chicago. They toast each other, and Ralph invites Eddie to call him "Bottles." I don't know how they did it in New York, Ralph, but in Chicago you don't get to pick your own nickname.
Over at Temple, Scootch and Willie are at the party -- and the manic jitterbugging girl is back -- and staring at Henry, waiting for an opening to spike his drink. First, though, Doris has to happily stroll up to see if Willie's having fun and compliment him, but he freezes her out because he thinks she was part of what happened last time. She's hurt. "Have it your way," she says, and apparently opts to punish him by dancing with Henry. But that's the distraction Willie needs, because Henry puts his drink down, and a determined Willie strides across the floor and pours from his flask into Henry's cup. I guess the only question was whether someone else -- Doris, namely -- would pick it up, but almost immediately after Willie spikes it and leave, Henry comes back and takes a sip. Willie and Scootch watch from across the room, and Henry seems OK so far. Well, for a second or so, because then all of a sudden the manic dancing girl is blocking him from view like CLEAR THE SHOT PLEASE.
Back in Atlantic City at the poker game, Rothstein is aggressively raising and then taunting Nucky for not doing the same. "Surely things aren't that bad," he says. There's a little coded talk between the two of them regarding Nucky's appetite for risk in life and in the game -- and some other degenerate gambler would like the pace to be picked up a little, and he also heckles Rothstein, prompting Meyer Lansky to suggest he keep his observations to himself. Arnold's all, "It's OK, Meyer," essentially, which makes the heckler go on a little fake-Yiddish run and wink at Nucky. And then Nucky makes a big raise. "And now you've got my attention," says Rothstein.
Back in Harlem, Dunn Purnsley's waiting for Narcisse outside the headquarters, and asks for some of his time. Narcisse sends his bodyguards ahead "to the salon" and gives Purnsley until 127th Street. Purnsley wisely opens with an apology, which in turn earns a little praise from Narcisse for his industriousness. And then it's time to run down Chalky a little bit: "His time is past, his place uncertain," says Narcisse. Chalky's on the rise, if anything, and Dunn points out that Chalky has the club and the whole North Side, which Narcisse dismisses as a "plantation run by Nordics. They throw you scraps; enough to keep you from starving, but not enough to make your belly full." He's preaching to Purnsley's choir on that score; that's why Dunn's here, after all. Dunn wants to know what he needs -- perhaps the right man running things down there? What the negro needs, Narcisse explains, is to pay no more tribute to a Nordic like Nucky Thompson than one would a bottlefly. He talks about how the downfall of the Libyan is what they used to call a "duppy" in the islands: a vampire, one who sucks the blood from his own people. Interesting position from a guy who has Purnsley distributing heroin. But I suppose that's to weed out the weak. At any rate, this duppy, says Narcisse, now that they've arrived at the salon is what will happen "unless there are Libyans prepared to instruct him in the uplift of the race." Purnsley takes that as his cue to kick the crap out of the gadabout hanging out on the step harassing people arriving at the party.
Meanwhile, Van Alden's still accompanying the Capone brothers on their various excursions, and they're particularly impressed by his aquavit distribution, mainly because he's skimming from "that Irish fuck." So they tell him if he keeps busting heads for them during the election, he can have the Cicero aquavit action as well. You can imagine how comfortable Van Alden is with going behind O'Banion's back like this. "Cicero is where the action is going to be. Pick a winner, Mueller," says Frank. Then they happen to spot one of O'Banion's speakeasies, with the bread truck out front that he uses for liquor deliveries. "It may just be a bread truck," offers Van Alden, futilely, since Al is all, "I may be hungry."
So Al boosts the truck, a terrified Van Alden taking the passenger seat, and they drive off with a load of liquor and trouble for Van Alden.
Back at the poker game, things don't appear to be going any better for Rothstein. The bet's to him, and he stalls for time by asking Nucky if he remembers their first encounter. Nucky does; A.R. needed supplies for a wedding. While our heckler friend from before stews a little more -- and rightly, if fatally, so -- Rothstein needles Nucky about being a type he recognized: "Small-town gladhander peering over the fence, eager to stick his finger in a new piece of pie." Nucky says he doesn't like pie. "Everything you want from me is on the table," Rothstein tells him, which doesn't exactly impress Nucky. "Jesus Christ. Do you need to send for a priest? Maybe not in your case," says the heckler, and Meyer steps in again, asking if the heckler has any idea who he's talking to. "Someone who's taking a long time to lose," is the heckler's response. Meyer starts to move in, and Rothstein waves him off again, telling him it's all "an aspect of the contest."
And then Rothstein -- much to Meyer's chagrin -- has to ask for $200,000 from the house, insisting on it when Nucky tries to suggest there are other games. "There's only the game you're in now," responds Rothstein. The floor man brings Rothstein his chips, and he immediately pushes them into the pot. "All in," he says, and Nucky calls him. Nucky lays his cards on the table -- flush, queen high -- even though when you call someone, he turns over his cards first. Can't tell you if it used to be different in the '20s, or if this is simply dramatic license. At any rate, Rothstein figured Nucky for a straight. "Then you figured me wrong again," says Nucky. Rothstein tosses in his cards, and the dealer pushes the chips to Nucky. "Nice getting to know you, Arnold," says Nucky, standing up. Rothstein sits and stews.
You know who's having a much better time? Eddie and Ralph. They're at a German speakeasy, with a drunk Eddie suddenly realizing Ralph's missed his train. Eddie wins over the bar by pointing out that trains are like whores: "You miss one, you hop on the one." Ralph orders up another round, while Eddie's drinking buddies are pleased to hear about Eddie's promotion, for a couple of reasons: One, it means he's not going to be complaining like he apparently always does of having to shine Nucky's shoes, and two, because it's hilarious to imagine Eddie spraying bullets out of a Tommy gun. Then they break into German singing, which I assume is what always happens in German bars even to this day. Ralph asks for a translation, and apparently the song is about the Rhine, being young, and a pretty girl. Jesus, pick a theme! They sing for half an hour, long enough for Ralph to start picking up some of the lyrics.
Back at the party, Willie and Scootch have locked the door to Ye Olde Water Closet, and now they stand back and wait, watching Henry lurch around on the dance floor. Before long he looks to be having some intestinal distress, and beelines for the toilet, with a gleeful Willie and Scootch telling him it's occupied. So Henry heads off in another direction, only to be stopped by Willie, who calls out for Henry to show everyone the Charleston again. Henry, looking increasingly uncomfortable, wants to get past, but Willie won't let him, and with all the other students looking on, Henry's stomach gurgles, and then -- well, the closed captioning on my television reads, I think for the first time that I've ever seen it, "[defecates]." The students recoil, with some giggling, as Henry slumps to the floor, and Willie busts out a joke about most kids being out of diapers by the time in the manner of someone who has been saving that up for hours. Willie escorts a disgusted Doris out for some air, while Henry pleads for someone to let him into the bathroom.
Over at the least fun joyride ever, Al makes Van Alden take the wheel from the passenger seat so he can snort some cocaine. He gallantly offers some to Van Alden, who declines, claiming to be plenty alert already. Al is basically like "meh, more for me," and snorts Van Alden's share too. "Beats my wife's coffee, I'll tell you that much," he says. He takes the wheel back from Van Alden and asks him if O'Banion's been treating him right. Well, dinner at fancy restaurant once in a while would be nice… "He's a joker. A prankster in a violent sort of way," says Van Alden. Al's all, "He takes it too far, huh?" Keep in mind we saw Al throw someone through a second-story window earlier today. "There's a time for levity," says Van Alden, and just as you're thinking, "Well, we're into the fourth season, so Van Alden's time for levity ought to be coming along any time now," he adds that he as a sense of humor. Hee! He is never not scowling. Van Alden acknowledges that O'Banion pays him well, but says he doesn't treat him with respect. Al says Van Alden can come work for him in Cicero: They've got the election sewn up, so things are bound to get busier.
Van Alden's in the middle of asking whether Al would clear it with O'Banion -- as if -- when there's a pounding and a yelling coming from behind them in the truck. They pull over. Following them, Frank does the same, and they get out, guns at the ready while Van Alden opens the door and they find O'Banion's driver, whose name I've now figured out is Stu, screaming to be let out -- and then backpedaling as soon as he sees who's out there (except Van Alden, who's on the side of the truck behind the back door.
Frank tells Stu to relax and get out of the car. Stu's face is still bloodied from O'Banion's shotgun gag, and he says he can walk; he just fell asleep in the back of the truck. He's shocked to then spot Van Alden, and then assures the three men that he won't say anything. The Capones charitably offer Stu a head start, and he takes it, running away, and Frank hands Van Alden his gun. "What do you want me to do?" says Van Alden, and Al points out that it makes no difference to them if Stu tells O'Banion about this…
It only takes Van Alden a second or two to grab the gun, and he fires a couple of shots, clipping Stu, who falls, and then the gun jams. That's OK— Al's got this; he lets loose with the Tommy gun, peppering Stu and the surrounding trees, and then screams with laughter, Van Alden looking on, horrified as usual.
It's dawn at Temple, with Willie covering his head with his pillow against the sunlight and some sort of commotion building nearby. Scootch, in his housecoat, tells Willie he needs to get up.
In the hallway, a crowd of whispering boys has gathered around the bathroom. Willie pushes his way in, where he finds Henry dead on the floor, eyes open, soaked in blood that seems to have come from his still-dripping mouth. "He kept going to the bathroom all night, I heard him," says one of the students. Didn't hear his bloody screams as he died, though! On the plus side, Henry's roommate gets an automatic 4.0 for the year, right?
Back at the dreariest poker game ever, Rothstein is still losing, and it's at the point where he's requesting fresh packs from the dealer. No, not that fresh pack, a different fresh pack! Lansky quietly suggests they call it a night, but Rothstein says, "It's early yet." Well, technically he's right, since it's dawn. Meyer sighs and sits down. Dude, he's still gotta take the babysitter home after this!
Anyway, Rothstein doesn't "like the feel" of the deck the dealer just opened, and insists on a new one. The idiot dealer says he just opened that one, and Meyer tries to signal something to the dealer, but that only pisses Rothstein off more, who orders the dealer to look at him -- the player -- not Lansky.
Lansky tries one more time with A.R., leaning in and whispering, "Wouldn't it be best people don't see you like this?" That ship has arguably sailed, but that finally gets to Rothstein, who takes a long look at Lansky, says, "Okey-cokely, Meyer," and stands up from the table, pocketing the few chips he has left. "I've relished the action," he says. He leaves, and that stupid heckler gets in one last dig: "Thanks for the pocket change, Goldstein." Rothstein turns around and comes back, fake-smiling at the guy. "Rothstein," he says. The heckler just tosses an ante on the pot for the round.
Rothstein leaves to settle up, while Meyer ducks into the room, where Nucky's drinking and smoking at the bar. He assumes Lansky's there for more credit for Rothstein, and says he's good for up to a million, but Meyer actually asks Nucky not to extend him any more credit. "Is he not good for it?" asks Nucky. Lansky says he is, but everyone hits a rough patch now and then. "Is that what it is?" asks Nucky, not buying it.
Meyer defends A.R. as a great man who just doesn't like to lose. Nobody likes to, points out Nucky, but everyone has to learn how. He's taking the Tampa deal off the table. Not because of the money, he says, but because he can't rely on a man so blinded by his obsession with winning. "Tell him I'll find a new partner," says Nucky, and Meyer wants to know if the terms would be the same for him. This surprises Nucky, who seems to suspect Lansky but Meyer assures him it would be without Rothstein.
"Tell me something about yourself," says Nucky. Yeah, and make it quick -- there's not much time left in the episode so we don't have time to go through the whole card game rigamarole again. Meyer starts talking about his partnerships with Lucky, but Nucky wants to know something about what kind of man Lansky is. So Meyer talks about how when he was a boy, his father moved the family from Russia to the lower east side. "He was weak, my father. Never stood up," he says. One day on his way to school, Meyer was stopped by a gang of older boys, and the leader wanted his lunch money. "I told him to go fuck himself. He laughed, said he'd beat it out of me. So I spit in his face," says Lansky. And beat him, they did. All of them. Same thing happened the day. But the third day the kid asked him to join the gang. And that boy was Charlie Luciano. "Last year we made more money than the president of the United States," says Meyer. And now you know … the rest of the story. "And I think you'll find us to be responsible partners both here or in Florida should you feel the need for eyes on your investment."
Nucky takes a drink and tells him it's five hundred thousand dollars in forty-eight hours. Lansky's all "Done" and they shake on it. Nucky tells him if the money doesn't show, this conversation didn't happen, and it won't happen ever again. He leaves, Meyer smiles, and then looks back into the other room, where the heckler is counting his money.
And Van Alden's hellish night is finally coming to an end as the Capones pull up at his pre-cut house in his pre-cut neighborhood, confirming that he'll help out on election day. "We understand some voters are still a little confused," says Frank. Then, noting Van Alden's non-finished house -- it doesn't even have siding on it yet -- they advise him to stick with them, and they'll move him into something with indoor plumbing. They pull out, cackling, leaving Van Alden standing on the step, Sigrid having come out to see just what the hell is going on. Well, you might as well go inside and fry some herring for breakfast or whatever the fuck.
Back in Atlantic City, the poker heckler exits into the alley, where Meyer Lansky is waiting for him with a blackjack. He echoes Rothstein's assertion that you never really know a man until you play cards with him. "Allow me to introduce myself," he says, and then pounds the shit out of the guy. But never actually introduces himself! Meyer, you forgot! He is, however, speaking Yiddish as he lays down the beating.
An exhausted-looking Nucky -- I know, I know. How can you tell, right? --makes it back to his room and -- somewhat impressively -- pours himself a drink. He calls for Eddie -- a couple of times -- but Eddie's not there, just Tom.
Eddie is, at that moment, still drunk and seeing off an equally drunk Ralphie off at the train station. They're still singing, with Ralphie promising to learn the words for time. Now, however, they're being watched, by Agent Knox and another agent. Eddie sees "Bottles" off on the south concourse, and then is immediately stopped by Knox and the other agent. He indignantly says he's done nothing wrong, but Knox begs to differ: "Nucky Thompson's wet nurse out all night up to who knows what?" The agents escort him out of the station. Aw, poor Eddie. I hope he enjoyed his brief run.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. If Willie's plot is some kind of prequel to Animal House, it needs to get a lot funnier soon. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.