McCloud

Peter B. Clifford:
He's got an arrest record that goes back to the crib... he's a psychopathic killer.

Sam McCloud:
Well, I'll try and stay on his good side.

Peter B. Clifford:
He doesn't have a good side!

Sam McCloud:
If I was you, I'd find a trail out o' here before ya get me riled up.

Sam McCloud:
He's slicker'n a greased shoat.

Chris Coughlin:
Gentlemen, I am sometimes a newspaper writer, never a reporter.

[repeated line]

Sam McCloud:
*There* yuh go!

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, I always knew I could count on you to make a spectacular entrance, McCloud, but that one was out of the blue!

Sam McCloud:
There ya go.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
[Chief Clifford is at Westside Hospital, if anyone wants him] Just tell them to report to Santa.

Lady:
[a sidewalk Santa pulls a gun on the clientele] Are you mugging me?

Santa Claus:
It's been a bleak year at the toyshop!

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
[after a bit of derring-do] McCloud you... you did it, huh?

Female officer:
[the stranger has just left the police station] Who was that?

Police Sergeant Grover:
I don't know, friend of McClouds.

Female officer:
He didn't have much to say, did he?

Police Sergeant Grover:
Silent night.

Pete Lancaster:
It's ten o' clock. We should be playing in the Village right now. [sighs, turns to Peggy] You wanna sing a carol for the kiddies, keep ' em amused?

Peggy:
Yeah, right.

Pete Lancaster:
You got no Christmas spirit, huh?

Kate O'Hannah:
New York is the coldest city in the world to be in... when you're alone.

Sam McCloud:
Hey, why don't you tell me about it, I wrote the book.

Chris Coughlin:
[Chief Clifford is dressed up as Santa Claus] In fact, I was the one that asked that you be requested to volunteer for this role.

Peter B. Clifford:
That's a dangerous confession to make to a desperate man in a confined space.

Police Sergeant Grover:
Oh, eh, I wanted to talk to you about...

Sam McCloud:
Not tonight Grover, I'm gonna be off in two minutes. I got a beautiful woman and a Christmas tree waiting for me. I wanna be trimmin' that tree, not hanging from it.

Santa Claus:
[he tries it again] Come on, I can't stand here all night, I knock off at twelve!

[the victim strikes back by knocking Santa's gun out of his hand with her purse and stabbing him with a hat pin]

Santa Claus:
[walking off into the alley] She stabbed me. She stabbed me!

Kate:
[to Clifford, who has just learned McCloud is on the plane with him - traveling first-class, natch] Would you like some more champagne?

Peter B. Clifford:
Leave the bottle.

Peter B. Clifford:
Grover, take over!

PR Man:
Mr. Sloan, I have seen clients come and go, but you, you are sincere.

Morgan:
Slight coordination problem, Dicky-boo?

Richard:
I've got perfect coordination. I just had it tested out.

Marvin Sloan:
It should be simple as a pimple.

Richard:
If you're gonna be a lawyer, you'd better do something about your voice, it's grating.

Morgan:
There's a price tag for everything my friend. Sometimes, it's gotta be pain!

Sam McCloud:
You see, nothin', nothin' will get as lonesome as a New Mexico beaver.

Peter B. Clifford:
Send in the sagebrush Sherlock Holmes, will you?

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, sending you after Bonnie Foster would be like sending Custer after Sitting Bull!

Peter B. Clifford:
Sergeant, I use that title in this temporary sence, I thought I said I didn't want to see the two of you around here?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
It seemed important, chief.

Peter B. Clifford:
It always does. Alright, spit it out.

Sam McCloud:
Two of Straker's men just worked me over. Doesn't that strike you as rather odd?

Peter B. Clifford:
Not really, I've suppressed the thought myself on many occasions.

Peter B. Clifford:
I want McCloud kept away from the press, away from me, away from everyone.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
I got ya, chief.

Peter B. Clifford:
Now I know you won't let me down, because we don't want to discuss this when you're back pounding a beat, do we?

Peter B. Clifford:
You always drive this fast?

Trucker Big Mama:
Only when I'm not in a hurry.

Sheriff Matheson:
Some cops go bad.

Sam McCloud:
Not this one. He's so straight it makes you cry.

Sam McCloud:
I just had a run-in with a couple o' eighteen-wheelers across the highway there, did ya see 'em? They tried to kill us!

Second Officer:
You sure you didn't just try to cut in front of 'em? Truckers don't like that.

Sam McCloud:
Ya know, a lot's happened t' me since I seen ya last, Bonnie. I've embarrassed the New York Police Department, I've been suspended from the force, I've been handcuffed to a fellow officer, I've been beaten up and sprayed with DDT. But since I've come this far, that is if you don't mind, I'd just as soon talk to ya alone.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
In Mexico, you get me drunk. In Colorado, you get me beaten up and thrown in jail. I'm not losing you again.

Sam McCloud:
You're a cog in Clifford's machinery! You're the butt end of his cigar!

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
I'm gonna make you eat those words, McCloud. Every one!

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
My promotion is at stake. I'm not blowin' 15 years on the force and 8 years of marriage just to help make you a hero.

Sam McCloud:
You don't have to worry about your promotion, you're not gonna make Lieutenant. Do you know why? Huh? Do you know why?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
You'd better spell it out for me, McCloud.

Sam McCloud:
[shouting] Because you have no guts. No guts! That's the trouble with you city policemen, you gotta have an order to breathe. You know, where I come from, when we get on the trail of something, we just mount up and ride off.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
[on payphone] Eh, this is gonna sound pretty strange but eh, I've gotta spend the night with McCloud.

Mrs. Carol Broadhurst:
[at home in bed] I think you two are spending a little bit too much time with each other.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Baby...

Mrs. Carol Broadhurst:
You see more of McCloud than you do of me. Would it help if I bought a stetson and boots?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Baby, you don't understand, I'm on special assignment. Our whole future could depend on this.

Mrs. Carol Broadhurst:
It does. When you're ready to come home, let me know. I'll eh, I'll mark the calendar.

Sam McCloud:
Now, Chief, I think I've got us a breakthrough.

Peter B. Clifford:
Don't try to change the subject, McCloud. You couldn't get off the hook if you came in here with your own obituary.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud... You realize you have broken just about every city ordinance in the book? Commandeering a fire vehicle, galloping a horse through the city streets, jumping said horse over a police barricade, endangering public property. Do you realize what a professional job you've done? Good work, McCloud.

Mervin Simmons:
[about McCloud's outfit] That's quite a clever getup you've got there. Very clever. Sort of a reverse mod, right? Very clever.

Sam McCloud:
Excuse me, would you hold my bomb a minute? Now just a minute. I got a pebble in my boot, I think.

Peter B. Clifford:
Must have fallen out of your head.

Mr. Rafer [Diller in credits]:
I'll tell you, sir, if they don't stop shooting those alien gamma rays into my head, I could be seriously disturbed, injured. I need help, sir.

Sam McCloud:
Yeah... yeah, protection against, eh... gamma rays. Now I... You, you need help all right, you do indeed.

Mr. Rafer [Diller in credits]:
My head's glowing, you know.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, I wonder if you can do something for me? Try not talking for a little while. You think you can handle that?

Sam McCloud:
What do you think of that?

Peter B. Clifford:
I think... Cantrell may be a suspect. I think anything is possible.

Sam McCloud:
There you go!

Peter B. Clifford:
I also think you are going back to the hospital before you put me into one. [opening the door for McCloud] There you go!

Eugenia Rudell:
[Serving Russian tea] I hope... it's steeped long enough.

Sam McCloud:
Oh, listen, that's - that's quite all right! I don't like it too steep.

Edwin:
You are the person who arrested Louis Brocco?

Sam McCloud:
Yep, that's right.

Milton:
We play with him.

Sam McCloud:
You do? Well, I'm afraid he's not gonna be able to come out and play today.

Waldemar:
Oh no, no, no, we are string quartet.

Sam McCloud:
Excuse me, ma'm, I wonder, eh, could I ask you a couple of questions?

Eugenia Rudell:
I'd day it's about time someone did. A dozen policemen and not one word to me. I resent being ignored, young man.

Sam McCloud:
Well ma'm, on behalf of all policemen everywhere, I would appreciate the opportunity to rectify that.

Fred Schultke:
Kevin, you're gonna have to learn how to read people instead of books.

Sam McCloud:
Now Louis Brocco is sure that this is the man in the green hat?

Detective Broadhurst:
McCloud, don't you ever again tell that kid to give anybody a little yell if he finds something. Half the riot squad came to attention when he picked out this thing.

Detective Broadhurst:
You're under arrest. I'm advising you that you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to consult an...

Fred Schultke:
[interrupting] I don't need all that. I want to see my lawyer.

Sam McCloud:
You will, we got him too.

Sam McCloud:
Chris, I want a trained police officer!

Chris Coughlin:
You'll get a trained reporter!

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
[seeing McCloud steal a fire truck] It can't be!

Peter B. Clifford:
Oh, yes it can.

Malcolm Garnett:
Wrong! Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong! This is nostalgia! Not parody, it's not burlesque, not camp! It's whimsy!... You people obviously do not understand what we're portraying here. These are the frollicing Forties. Simple years, clean years! World War Two. A war with a heart! A war that everybody could understand!... This is a war you came out of the theater whistling from. What is this, an amateur show? What am I running here? How did you ever get into showbusines, you kids, what are you, dummies or something? You know the idea of this number or don't you know the idea? America was clean and unpolluted! We were wonderful! Everybody liked us then!... And that's what the public wants to see again. Not drugs and long hair and beads, they want short hair. Zoot suits with reet fleets. Clean, young people styling. What I am trying to say is, to make this look sincere... and make it look simple!

Sam McCloud:
This is quite a spread.

Evelyn Reinhart:
Louise is famous for her spread.

Chris:
Sam... you're pants are on fire.

Sam McCloud:
[totally engrossed in a basketball game on TV] Yeah, you betcha, yeah. Yeah. Just as soon as the quarter's over.

Sam McCloud:
You shine like a new saddle.

Louise Blanchard:
Who's the call for?

Leonard:
The gentleman in the cowboy boots, madam.

Malcolm Garnett:
In fact, Thomas was irresponsible.

Peter B. Clifford:
He's already signed a statement against you.

Malcolm Garnett:
Irresponsible and disloyal.

Chris:
Sam McCloud, I never could take my ears off of you.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, beginning now and for as long as you're with us, I don't want to know you're around. Do I make myself clear?

Sam McCloud:
Coming in like a bear in December.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, I don't even wanna know what that means.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
That's the fourth call you've made this morning, McCloud, and you don't know that many people in New York.

Sam McCloud:
[about reporters] I don't know why it is they always keep puttin' words in my mouth?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Because somehow with you, McCloud, when they go in they're just words, but when they come out, they're headlines.

Peter B. Clifford:
[to Broadhurst] Let's not have any credit-grabbing around here, there's room on my list for both of you.

Chris Coughlin:
[McCloud has been shot] Peter, how is he?

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, anything requiring the use of his, eh, latisimus dorsi is pretty much out of the question.

Sam McCloud:
If you want to, you can just stay here and keep an eye on the hubcaps.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
There ya go.

Peter B. Clifford:
We have a warrant for Arnold Stanford's arrest.

Joan Stanford:
F-for what?

Peter B. Clifford:
Suspicion of robbery, assault with a deadly weapon.

Joan Stanford:
[indicating Clifford's gun] What do you call that?

Joan Stanford:
[about her husband] He's away, on business, Philadelphia.

Peter B. Clifford:
You're not helping him any by keeping him on the run.

Joan Stanford:
You don't run to Philadelphia, Lieutenant, you take a train.

Chris Coughlin:
Well, Marshal, your Code of the West just may come in for a slight whoopin'. Something's come up.

Peter B. Clifford:
[McCloud is on horseback] Tell me this is just a bad dream.

Sam McCloud:
Give it up, Belasco, you've got no place to go!

Loren Belasco:
You're wrong, policeman. I have a thousand years' head start on you!

Sam McCloud:
[McCloud and a cop are climbing up a bridge after Belasco] Hey Belasco! Give it up, you can't go any farther. You're an old man, Belasco, you can't handle this. Just hang on, I'll get a rope and get you down from there.

Loren Belasco:
Not necessary, policeman. You forget, I can fly.

Cop:
For him I'm risking my neck? I, I got four kids.

Sam McCloud:
[referring to Morris the butler] I've been around dead cats that make more noise than he does.

Sam McCloud:
[faced with Chris' stubbornness] You know, I once knew a Missouri mule that I could talk to easier.

Sam McCloud:
This place has got more room than a porcupine at a love-in.

Loren Belasco:
Cold... very cold... [moves closer to the fire]

Sam McCloud:
Why, I wouldn't stand too close to that fire there, that's hot enough to barbeque a four ton steer.

Loren Belasco:
Chill on a night like this penetrates back a thousand years.

Loren Belasco:
Take those wet clothes, Morris. See if you can dry them out.

Sam McCloud:
Oh, that won't be necessary, it's just my old, sheepskin, here. It's been through much worse than that. Just stand it up anywhere.

Chris Coughlin:
You do have a reputation for getting your mouth and your six-gun mixed up.

Sam McCloud:
Now what do you mean by that?

Chris Coughlin:
By shooting it off to the press.

Sam McCloud:
Really?

Chris Coughlin:
Really.

Loren Belasco:
[the 'Count' takes Chris Coughlin's hand] You're hand is very warm.

Tom Snyder:
Easy now, Count, there'll be no snacks here on the air, we'll have something sent in if you're hungry.

Loren Belasco:
After all I am a direct descendent of the Baron Exiton Von Dracula of Transylvania. Wouldn't you say that a man who denies his own heritage would be doomed to everlasting damnation?

Tom Snyder:
Ladies and gentlemen, the Tomorrow program is pleased to present for the first time on American television live, in person: Count Dracula. Good morning, Count.

Loren Belasco:
Good morning Tom, you're looking very well.

Tom Snyder:
I am not sure I like the way you're looking at me when you say that I am looking well. But I do appreciate you're taking time from what must be the middle of your day to be with us this morning.

Loren Belasco:
Yes, I have several delicious stops to make before morning.

Tom Snyder:
The first rays of dawn I trust you mean?

Loren Belasco:
Even in jest I take a dim view of daylight.

Chief Superintendant Caldwell:
Peter, what is this all about? Your officer just attacked the Grand Marshall and stole his wife's horse.

Peter B. Clifford:
Eh, Superintendant, it's a little difficult to explain McCloud to a foreigner, unAmerican, non-American. It's a little difficult for me to understand him myself.

Jennifer McGee:
You know, you really should stay. Tomorrow is a big celebration in Sidney. The Australia day parade.

Peter B. Clifford:
The only parade I wanna see is me and that 6 foot side of beef climbing up that boarding ladder 11 a.m. sharp, comprende?

Sam McCloud:
Comprendo.

Sam McCloud:
It gives a fella kind of an incomplete feeling not knowing how he solved the case.

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, if it's any consilation, McCloud, I've always thought your methods were a little incomplete, you too for that matter.

Jennifer McGee:
Hotel? You're going to the airport!

Sam McCloud:
That's right, just as soon as I find out who tried to gullyjump me!

Sam McCloud:
Well, what can I say, I'm sorry. I feel like a bull in a prize flower bed.

Jennifer McGee:
You take the prize alright.

Sam McCloud:
You're about' prettiest bird-dog I've ever met.

Inspector Hale:
What did he say?

Dover:
'There you go'.

Inspector Hale:
Go where?

Dover:
I don't know. Least that's what I though he said.

Inspector Hale:
Curious. I wonder if that was some sort of American put down?

Dover:
I don't think so, seemed a pretty decent bloke to me.

Inspector Hale:
You're very naive, Dover, very naive.

Jennifer McGee:
Never mind who I am, who was that?

Sam McCloud:
I didn't get his name.

Jennifer McGee:
You hurled a perfect stranger off your balcony?

Sam McCloud:
Well what Australians throw off their balconies, friends?

Sam McCloud:
I hate to admit this, but maybe spending all that time on the plane might have some effect on me, I, eh, I'm a bit sleepy.

Putney:
Yeah, could be the Ozzie brew, too. I suppose I should have mentioned that in the U.S. it's 3 proof, here it's 12.

Sam McCloud:
12? Well, it does warm up your innards, alright.

Alex Demery:
Not the neatest job I ever heard of.

Alfred Donnelly:
When you take aim at a bull-elephant, neatness is the least of your concerns.

Mason:
[referring to McCloud] Think he can cut it?

Voss:
He's perfect! Square and stupid enough for people to believe.

Peter B. Clifford:
Good luck.

Sam McCloud:
Yes, sir. I think you're gonna need it more than I will. All I got facing me is a trip to Paris.

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, bon voyage.

Sam McCloud:
There you go.

Sam McCloud:
Whereabouts at do you hang your flight bag?

Anne Verdige:
I hang my flight bag at the Pension du Faisan d'Or.

Sam McCloud:
Now you gonna have to say that twice, just for me to misunderstand it.

Sam McCloud:
Talk about the cavalry arriving just in the nick of time. How'd you get all the way from New York?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Simple logic, McCloud. I listen to what you say, and do the exact opposite.

Sam McCloud:
You know, I thought our government was for and by the people, not corporations.

Truck driver:
[McCloud is walking in the middle of the road with handcuffs on] Trying to get killed, Mack?

Sam McCloud:
I need a lift!

Truck driver:
With those handcuffs? Good luck!

Sam McCloud:
Look, I'm a peace officer, got a badge in my pocket.

Truck driver:
Sure, and I got the Mets in my glove compartment.

Chris Coughlin:
The, eh, teargas blew, the witness flew and not a shot was fired.

Sam McCloud:
Sounds like something you'd sing around a camp fire.

Chris Coughlin:
By golly, you're right. 'The Ballad of James Otis Waldron'.

Sam McCloud:
Now look, Miss Coughlin, where I come from, we listen to Country & Western radio stations. But in between we get what they call news cast, where we primitives pick up on big city shucks like bestsellers and possible sale of movie rights.

Sam McCloud:
[getting a drink in a limo] We don't have too many mobile, eh, juice fixtures out our way.

Receptionist:
I see you have the book.

Sam McCloud:
[picks up Chris Coughlin's book] Oh yeah, yeah, you betcha.

Receptionist:
She mentions my name in it.

Sam McCloud:
Stop by for your autograph.

Sgt. Joe Broadhurst:
What about McCloud?

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud? He couldn't find the Empire State Building on a clear day.

Sgt. Joe Broadhurst:
Okay with you if I keep an eye on him?

Peter B. Clifford:
What for?

Sgt. Joe Broadhurst:
Because a fish out of water sometimes learns to crawl.

Chris Coughlin:
You're biological clock is three hours out of wack.

Sam McCloud:
That's the first time I've ever heard it called that.

Chris Coughlin:
I'll come back when you're spring's all wound up.

Sgt. Joe Broadhurst:
We're just keeping tabs, in case you find a bobcat.

Whitman:
How are you, Marshal?

Sam McCloud:
About even.

Sam McCloud:
[facing a group of reporters] Now you fellows are just too good at your jobs. What I'm trying to say is nothing, but you just keep pulling it out of me.

Sam McCloud:
[about Broadhurst] He's gonna be madder than a scolded owl.

Sam McCloud:
Now you can close it up as tight as you want to, officially, but unofficially, and off the record and if you insist, off base, I'm in this to the bitter bottom dregs.

Adrienne Redman:
You might as well know that beauty contests are female karate.

Chris Coughlin:
I'm on to you, McCloud, you're a dirty old marshal.

Chris Coughlin:
I just want you to know how much I appreciate you having wrecked the sales of my book.

Sam McCloud:
[McCloud's last line of the show, as Clifford sites in a bomb-devastated squad room] You know, Chief, it may not be the right time for me to tell you about what a good job Joe and Sergeant Norton did... [Clifford, looking for an ashtray, empties the fire-hose water out of the one he picks up]... No, no, it's not the right time.

Holly Dayton:
Are you a sucker for Indian chiefs and trombone players too?

Doorman:
What's all this?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Police business.

Doorman:
What kinda police business?

Jennie:
[hears voice whispering to her in her apartment, stares in horror as her lifesize wall portrait comes to life] No! No! No!

Shirley:
I just love anything Western. The Grand Canyon Suite is one of my favorites.

Sam McCloud:
Never could afford much more than a room and a bath, m'self.

Sam McCloud:
[having just received a stack of paperwork] When do you think I should have this one solved?

Peter B. Clifford:
Oh, tomorrow afternoon should do it. Then I'm assigning you to traffic control for the rest of the week.

Sam McCloud:
[smiles] Ah, you're just too good to me Chief, just too good.

Peter B. Clifford:
I know. Sometimes I just can't help myself.

Sam McCloud:
Well, I suppose you looked into him anyway...

Ira Mastin:
Of course I looked in. If I looked any closer, I would've needed a medical clearance.

Jennie:
You don't dig unseen forces, do you?

Sam McCloud:
I leave them alone and they leave me alone, you know what I mean

Ralph Touhy:
What's a McCloud?

Ira Mastin:
He's a cowboy they got down at the detective bureau.

Jennie:
You know what, If I were the weather, nobody would ever know how to dress.

Robert Devlin:
He says he's gonna call the police.

Sam McCloud:
Well, if he does, I'm swingin' an empty loop.

Jennie:
Help! Being held captive on the seventeenth floor by monsters and trolls. We love you, McCloud.

Deputy Dewey Cobb:
Far out!

Peter B. Clifford:
[after riding a horse ineptly across rugged terrain] Well, McCloud... I'm finally beginning to realize why you're the way you are. Enough of this would make anyone... funny!

Deputy Dewey Cobb:
There you go.

Sam McCloud:
Far out. [the last lines of the show]

Sam McCloud:
Ya know, when the hound is chasin' the rabbits, the fox has the run o' the woods.

Peter B. Clifford:
I think we finally found a use for you here in the concrete canyons of Manhattan...

Sam McCloud:
What's that?

Peter B. Clifford:
Cattle Rustling.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, that little girls' funeral is in three days. I want the people responsible for her death before then.

Reporter:
This is the big New York city policeman you dragged us down here to see? He looks more like your cousin, Floyd.

Peter B. Clifford:
Broudhurst, Drop everything.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
McCloud?

Peter B. Clifford:
How did you know?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
That vein in your neck. It always starts throbbing when it has something to do with McCloud.

Peter B. Clifford:
You know that prisoner he was sent to bring back? Well, he helped him escape instead! Now McCloud's in jail and the prisoner's on the loose.

Sam McCloud:
Joe, what are you doing here?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
What are you doing out of jail?

Sam McCloud:
You make it sound like it's some kind of a crime.

Peter B. Clifford:
Where's McCloud?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
[on phone in jail cell] According to the Sheriff, he's a fugitive.

Peter B. Clifford:
I hope he gave orders to shoot to kill.

Sam McCloud:
Bottoms up!

Luann:
Oh, promises, promises! [riotous laughter]

Deputy Dewey Cobb:
McCloud, the next time I listen to you, you have my full permission to shoot me.

Peter B. Clifford:
[entering The Corral bar] We're surrounded by McClouds...

Sheriff Floyd Bevins:
I love you like a son, but if you don't catch them, don't come back!

Peter B. Clifford:
We'll find him.

Sam McCloud:
May take quite a spell.

Peter B. Clifford:
Not with thousands of cops looking for him, it won't.

Sam McCloud:
Well, I've been walking this spread for quite a while, and it's a lot easier for a man to hide in the forest than it is in the desert.

Peter B. Clifford:
That make sense to you?

Sgt. Joe Broadhurst:
I think what he means is...

Peter B. Clifford:
Never mind what he means, just get in that car.

Goose Jenkins:
[referring to Clifford] I've landed on cactus softer than him.

Sam McCloud:
There ya go.

Sam McCloud:
You know, Iris, I... really hate to say this, but Billy didn't make too many friends.

Iris McKensie:
When a man's on top, he's gotta make enemies.

Sam McCloud:
You just stay put.

Blue Roberts:
I'll stay put til I'm ready to go.

Sam McCloud:
You do and I'll come huntin' for ya, Blue.

Blue Roberts:
It's a big country.

Sam McCloud:
It's not that big.

Sam McCloud:
[undercover] You sure it's me you're lookin' for?

DDT:
Man, I been lookin' for you all my life. This town's a dust bowl. Whoever gets that shipment of yours is gonna be the big Indian.

[draws a switchblade]

DDT:
Now, how many rows o' cotton is it gonna take for me to get what you got?

DDT:
I thought you were a different dude from all the other honky toads.

Police Sgt. Gladys Harris:
[about McCloud] Haven't you ever wondered why he never takes that coat off? It's like my girdle. When that comes off, it's every part for itself.

Peter B. Clifford:
[to Haferman] All the money you misappropriate every year would make Jesse James look like an evangelist

Chaney:
Oh, get this: a cop's slug hits him in this religious medalion he wears. [laughs nervously]

Mr. Constantine:
Who says God isn't on our side?

Mrs. Johnson:
Alright, McCloud, enough. I'm not gonna pry this out of you one cornflake at a time. What happened to Benny?

Doctor:
Look, one more thing, if you can't get Johnson to testify against this woman, this, eh, this kook who's going around painting the out of towners blue, I got one suggestion that just might help you.

Sam McCloud:
What's that?

Doctor:
Get her to switch to a water based paint.

Peter B. Clifford:
[on phone] Oh, eh, Gladys, pass the word, top priority. No one is to say anything about anything to that federal guy, Pearson.

Police Sgt. Gladys Harris:
[on other line] Nobody said anything to him already.

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, that goes double now.

Police Sgt. Gladys Harris:
Got ya. Nobody says anything to him again, double.

Police Sgt. Gladys Harris:
Who is Haferman and why all the secrecy?

Peter B. Clifford:
Nobody is supposed to know.

Police Sgt. Gladys Harris:
I'm nobody, ask anybody.

Peter B. Clifford:
You're getting scary, Gladys, that almost makes sense.

Jack Haferman:
Why don't you leave a couple of men and, eh, guard the place?

Peter B. Clifford:
It's snowing out there, Mr. Haferman.

Jack Haferman:
It could be bleeding in here.

Jack Haferman:
[Hafermans' 'houseguest' has been shot] Oh, officer is she gonna die?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
No, must have been perched in there sideways. The slug went right through the padding in her bra, just grazed her.

Jack Haferman:
A padded bra? This whole evening been a disaster.

Sam McCloud:
[driving on the streets of N.Y. in a blizzard] Well, when temperatures are up, tempers are up. Crimes of passion, assault. But when temperatures' down, it's nice and cold, well, crime rates down. People feel more like pulling back, tucking in.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Not me McCloud. Right now I could throttle somebody for sticking my out here.

Peter B. Clifford:
Can I buy you and the commissioner a drink?

Sam McCloud:
At 11 o'clock in the morning?

Peter B. Clifford:
Well, you been to bed yet?

Sam McCloud:
No.

Peter B. Clifford:
You?

Deputy Police Commissioner Bob Denton:
No.

Peter B. Clifford:
Then lets be wicked. Every now and then I like to get it out of my system.

Peter B. Clifford:
Give the feather to McCloud. As a matter of fact, I'd say we owe him a whole war bonnet.

Sam McCloud:
You know, playing possum is just basic police procedure back home.

Peter B. Clifford:
And for once, lady, I'm glad there's a McCloud watching over the city.

Sam McCloud:
You know, you're lucky that I'm from outta town, because New York City Police Department doesn't allow their officers to fire a warning shot. Now I'd just as soon leave you here to prove that I didn't violate the law.

Mrs. Johnson:
This is for Benny and that poor creep in there.

Bebe Murchison:
In all of nature, the male is the more beautiful of the species. The rainbow plumage of the peacock. The magnificent maned lion. Only in man, is the male a dreary, dull, colorless unimaginative, deceitful, treacherous little worm.

Mr. Constantine:
What's gonna happen in this next hour is gonna make St. Valentine's day seem like a church picnic in Central Park.

Fred Pearson:
Washington has given me carte blanche.

Bebe Murchison:
I don't take credit cards.

Bebe Murchison:
[seeing Pearson as a potential customer] You ain't into whips or anything?

Fred Pearson:
[thinking Bebe is on the police force] Whips? Who uses whips? You've seen whips used here at the New York City Police Department? [puts his finger to his lips] I thought that went out with the third degree.

Sam McCloud:
Am I late?

Chris Coughlin:
No, I'm just half a martini early.

Frank Gordon:
[referring to Chris] Hey, that's a great looking posse you got there, Sheriff!

Arthur Yerby:
Oh, now don't leave just yet, marshal, my lawyers are never on time, except for my bills.

Arthur Yerby:
My wife and I have been married for 25 years. She has despised me for 24. The first year was an adjustment period.

Arthur Yerby:
And my only son, Phillip, who may yet reverse the American dream and achieve riches to rags.

Peter B. Clifford:
Stop calling me chief. You make me feel like a Comanche.

Richard Thatcher:
I'm getting outta here.

Sam McCloud:
Eh, Thatcher, do you, do you mind, eh, sticking around just for a little while? I might need some advice.

Richard Thatcher:
Marshal, I, eh, I'd really would like to get some sleep. But... that's alright, I'll just suffer a physical collapse and I'll collect disability.

Sam McCloud:
Thanks a lot.

Richard Thatcher:
[on phone with McCloud, who has fallen quiet] McCloud, this instrument works best when you speak into it.

Marian Yerby:
[about her son] He can't even manage a simple thing, like having his own father murdered.

Marian Yerby:
[on phone] Sergeant Thatcher? Good. This is Mrs. Arthur Yerby. I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to arrest my son?

Sam McCloud:
[after trapping villain Keith Hampton in Times Square with an entire fleet of Hampton's cabs] Who says ya can't get a cab in this city when ya want one?

Sam McCloud:
[after he and a whole army of Yellow Cabs have completely boxed in villain Keith Hampton in Times Square] Who says you can't get a cab in New York these days?

Peter B. Clifford:
Three men have died chasing that stupid Stetson of yours, McCloud! The papers are calling you "the man with the Golden Hat".

Tereshkoff:
Marshal... why do I feel like I've been "rode hard and put away wet"?

Sam McCloud:
There you go.

Detective:
[on the phone] Not Mexico, New Mexico! It's in this country! How should I know, it's out there after Chicago someplace!

Officer Margaret Sereno:
Do I threaten your masculinity McCloud?

Sam McCloud:
No. Do I threaten yours?

Ted Callender:
Oh, I am sorry if my loud, crude, vulgar voice is giving you a headache.

Peter B. Clifford:
The pain, Mr Callender, is not in my head.

Ted Callender:
Oh, you're a charmer, you are. Well I almost had a headache, you know what sort? The sort of headache you get when lead goes in here and comes out here! [indicating his head]

Jennifer Houghton:
It's a sad thing, Marshal, to realize that the best thing you can do for the one you love, is get out of his sight.

Sam McCloud:
Now, Mr Callender, about that party o' yours.

Ted Callender:
I ain't calling it off.

Sam McCloud:
You know it's going to be very difficult to guard you with all those people there.

Ted Callender:
Well, that's your problem, mate.

Sam McCloud:
It's your life.

Sam McCloud:
Well I don't set out to do nothin' spectacular. I'm just enforcing the law.

Sgt. Phyllis Norton:
Gladys, I just can't do it, face being in the same room as a corpse.

Sgt. Gladys Harris:
That's because you're not married. You should go home to my husband a couple of times.

Sam McCloud:
It's just that I'm overly interested in these New York detective things. These crimes of purple passion, axe murders and things like that, they - they fascinate me, I love 'em.

Joey Martin:
[a little kid playing with a set of keys is eyeing McCloud] Hey. That a real six gun?

Sam McCloud:
Yeah. That a real set of car keys?

Joey Martin:
I refuse to answer on grounds that incriminates and degrades me.

Sam McCloud:
[smiling] You're a real New Yorker, ain't ya?

Sam McCloud:
Mrs. White, the longer it takes us to find your son, the harder it'll go for him.

Ernistine White:
When has it been easy?

Charles 'Bubba' White:
I got a suite at St. Richard.

Jackie Dawn:
Oh, the St. Richard no less. What are you, some kind of sloppy tycoon?

Charles 'Bubba' White:
I'm not so sloppy.

Jack Faraday:
I'll tell you something 'bout a place like this: you come in here once or twice and all the losers out of the woodwork wanna be your brother.

Bartender:
[about Bubba] He bounced those two guys off the walls like they were paper dolls. Would've been great to watch if they hadn't been my walls.

Sam McCloud:
Yeah, well, you're not exactly listed in the phone book as a tourist attraction, Mr. Faraday, you know, I wouldn't have found you myself except we got a nice fat file on you.

Jackie Dawn:
[to McCloud] What sort of a cop, are you, anyway? Horse patrol or something?

Charles 'Bubba' White:
Who are you?

Sam McCloud:
Oh, I'm just a friend of your ma's.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
McCloud, you gotta try to understand the chief.

Sam McCloud:
Why?

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
So you can explain him to me.

Sam McCloud:
[wearing a Karate outfit] I look kinda like a Japanese Sandman.

Police Officer Keach:
Marshal McCloud, this is not a pajama party.

Sam McCloud:
Well, you could've fooled me.

Sam McCloud:
You tried using dogs?

Police Sergeant F.J. Dameron:
Yes.

Sam McCloud:
I mean country dogs. City dogs like to sleep at night.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
That Sergeant Dameron's a cement cookie.

Sam McCloud:
Would you like to have a balloon?

Police Officer Keach:
No thanks.

Sam McCloud:
Well, I'll get you one, just... until you feel like it.

Sergeant Joe Broadhurst:
Chief Clifford sends his man in to check up on your mode of operations and you send yourself to check up on his mode of checking.

Police Sergeant F.J. Cameron:
Shut up and give met that walkie talkie.

Police Sergeant F.J. Dameron:
I'll tell you what to do!

Sam McCloud:
Sergeant, you may not realize it, but three stripes don't outrank a marshal.

Police Sergeant F.J. Dameron:
McCloud, you're gonna hear from me on two counts. One: I'm gonna file an official complaint. And two: I'm gonna attach a recommendation for exceptional service.

Elevator Operator:
The best thing about not taking sides, Mack, is knowing you ain't on a wrong one.

Peter B. Clifford:
McCloud, I've tried to handle this in such a way as not to give your office as big a black eye as you've given mine. But I can't put a lid on it till you get out from under.

Peter B. Clifford:
[to McCloud] You let the sun rise on you again in New York City, and you'll be subject to immediate arrest and imprisonment!

Sam McCloud:
Who said you can't make new friends in New York?