TABLE OF CONTENTS
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
New York 1894 - January 17, 1899.
FIRST BOOK
Chicago 1870 – August 17, 1896
Johnny Torrio, Frankie Yale and Big Jim
Chicago 1899 – August 20, 1913
Scarface
Chicago, August 20, 1913 – November 2, 1914
The second step
The Prince
November 2, 1915
To use or be used, that is the question
Al Capone takes his leave of New York
SECOND BOOK
Chicago 1919 – January 16, 1920
Al Capone makes his entrance in Chicago
New Year's Eve 1920 and many New Year's resolutions
THIRD BOOK
Unione Siciliana and The Terrible Gennas
Cicero next!
The blue book
War and peace – very little peace
Johnny Torrio comes back
The greatest gangster of all time says goodbye
FOURTH BOOK
The Prince and the Princess
August 17, 1934
The blue book
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree
Wedding preparations
The wedding
Never underestimate Johnny Torrio – or anyone else
CAST OF CHARACTERS
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(Only the main characters as well as people with direct connections to them have been included in the cast of characters.)
Accardo, Tony “Joe Batters” – One of Al Capone's closest men and the most intelligent of them. He knew how to handle a baseball bat – thus the nickname.
Aiello, Joe – Sicilian. He aimed high, but often failed. He had his last failure after reaching the desirable position of President of the Unione Siciliana, which meant he came down with a case of “lead poisoning”.
Amatuna, Samoots “Don Chic” – Short-lived, but even so, at the moment of his death, the tough President of the Unione Siciliana.
Anselmi, Albert – One of the “Murder Twins”, and one of the executioners at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Benedict, Fausto – Joseph Benedict's son. Enemy of the Mafia.
Benedict, Iris – Married to Joseph, stepmother of Fausto. Indispensible to Scandinavian immigrants.
Benedict, Joseph – Married to Iris, father of Fausto. Enemy of the Mafia.
Burke, Fred “Killer” – One of the hired murderers at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Callas, Patricia – Cleopatra's schoolmate and “The Charmer” Rick DeSilva's last conquest.
Capone, Al – Greatest gangster of all time.
Capone, Albert – Al Capone's next-to-youngest brother.
Capone, Albert Francis “Sonny” – Al Capone's son.
Capone, Frank – Al Capone's older brother.
Capone, Gabriele – Al Capone's father.
Capone, James – Al Capone's oldest brother.
Capone, John – Al Capone's younger brother.
Capone, Mae – Al Capone's wife, née Coughlin.
Capone, Mafalda – Al Capone's little sister. The youngest of the siblings.
Capone, Matthew – Al Capone's youngest brother.
Capone, Ralph – Al Capone's next oldest brother.
Capone, Teresina – Al Capone's mother.
Carrera, “Tony Dancer” – The first of three hapless lifeguards.
Clark, James – “Bugs” Moran's brother-in-law and first lifeguard. He was murdered at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Colosimo, James “Big Jim” – Stubborn Mafia king in Chicago until Johnny Torrio decided otherwise.
Crona, Karl – Robert's father.
Crona, Rut –Robert's mother.
Crown, Cleopatra – Virginia's child number two.
Crown, David – Virginia's first-born.
Crown, Elisabeth – Virginia's and Emmett's mother.
Crown, Emmett – Virginia's obedient brother. Later one of Al Capone's closest men.
Crown, Gavin – Son of Robert and Linda.
Crown, Jacqueline – Daughter of Virginia and Alan.
Crown, Robert – Father of Virginia and Emmett.
Crown, Virginia – Dangerous angel.
D'Andrea, Anthony – President of the Unione Siciliana in Chicago.
DeSilva, Isaac – Owner of Hygienic Impact. Father of Rick.
DeSilva, Norma – Married to Isaac. Mother of Rick.
DeSilva, Richard “Rick” – Called “The Charmer” by schoolgirls. Later married to Cleopatra.
Dever, William Emmett – Chicago's unbriblable mayor. Presented an apparent threat to Johnny Torrio's and Al Capone's activities.
Drucci, Vincent “The Schemer” – One of Dion O'Banion's three closest men.
Emanuelsson, Augusta – Mother of Elisabeth.
Emanuelsson, Einar – Father of Elisabeth.
Finnegan, Arthur “Criss Cross” – Irishman. Member of The White Hand Gang, half beaten to death by Al Capone and crippled for life.
Franco, Nicholas “Nick” – Single. Processing officer at the Bureau of Immigration and Naturalization. One of Fausto Benedict's three confidants.
Gallucio, Frank – The man who sliced up Al Capone's left cheek in three places with a stiletto and gave Capone the nickname “Scarface”.
Genna, Angelo “Bloody Angelo” – One of the six Genna brothers. Short-lived President of the Unione Siciliana.
Genna, Antonio “The Gentleman” – One of the six Genna brothers.
Genna, Jim – One of the six Genna brothers.
Genna, Michael “Mike The Devil” – One of the six Genna brothers.
Genna, Peter – One of the six Genna brothers.
Genna, Sam – One of the six Genna brothers.
Guinta, Joseph – Briefly President of the Unione Siciliana.
Gusenberg, Frank – Brother of Peter Gusenberg. Together the two brothers were the foremost torpedos of the Northsiders. They were killed at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Gusenberg, Peter – Brother of Frank Gusenberg. Together the two brothers were the foremost torpedos of the Northsiders. They were killed at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Gustavsson, Sarah – The unfortunate girlfriend of Alan's sister, Linda Marler, née Lisa Magnusson.
Guzik, Jack “Greasy Thumb” – Russian Jew. Ruthless behind-the-scenes gangster. Economic advisor to Johnny Torrio and Al Capone. Equipped with a superbrain.
Heyer, Adam – The North Side Gang's accountant and project leader behind the scenes. Killed at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Howard, Joe “Ragtime” – Threatened Al Capone's friend, Jack Guzik. Al Capone's sentence: death penalty. Executioner: Al Capone.
Johnson, Fred – The Crown family's general practitioner.
Kaplan, Henry – Russian Jew. Rapist. Murderer. Virginia's advisor. Wished nothing more than to be freed from the position forced on him.
Lansky, Meyer – Polish Jew. One of Lucky Luciano's closest men.
LaPipa, “Dum Dum” – The second of the three unfortunate lifeguards.
Leigh, Samantha – Emmett's woman after Monica Newman.
Lewis, Bob – Police commissioner. Bribed up to the eyebrows.
Lolordo, Pasqualino “Patsy” – Short-lived President of the Unione Siciliana.
Lombardo, Antonio – Short-lived President of the Unione Siciliana.
Lonergan, Richard “Peg-Leg” – Irishman. Leader of the White Hand Gang after the murder of Meehan Dinny. Planned to murder Al Capone and Frankie Yale on December 26, 1925, in New York. Instead was murdered himself – eventually his skull was split like that of his compatriot, “Wild Bill” Lovett.
Loverdo, Agostino – Spaghetti king. President of the Unione Siciliana.
Lovett, Bill “Wild Bill” – Irishman. Member of the White Hand Gang. Planned to devote his life to killing Al Capone after Capone crippled his friend, Arthur “Criss Cross” Finnegan. Things didn't go the way he'd planned. On October 31, 1923, his own skull was split by a meat axe.
Luciano, Charles “Lucky” – Capo di Tutti Capi (Boss of All Bosses) in New York.
Lupo “The Wolf” Saietta, Ignazio – Ruthless Mafia boss. Founder of the “Murder Stall”. Declared himself “Boss of Bosses”. Supported by the Morello family.
Madonna, Carlo – Father of three. One of Fausto Benedict's three confidants. Processing officer at the Bureau of Immigration and Naturalization. Ladies' man. Was unfaithful one time too many.
Mangold, Alan – Born Algot Magnusson. One of Fausto Benedict's three confidants and later Virginia's husband.
Maria – Virginia's maid.
Mark and Sandy – tavern owners.
Marler, Linda – Born Lisa Magnusson. Alan Mangold's sister and later Robert's second wife.
May, John – “Bugs” Moran's private chauffeurr and assassin. Was killed at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929. John May was the owner of the German shepherd Highball who was spared at the massacre.
McGurn, Jack “Machine Gun McGurn” – One of Al Capone's closest men.
McSwiggin, William H. – Rather unsuccessful prosecuting attorney.
Meehan, Dinny – Irishman. The White Hand Gang's first leader. Was shot full of lead on March 31, 1920, when he was in bed making love to his wife Peggy.
Merlo, Mike – President of the Unione Siciliana in Chicago. One of Johnny Torrio's best friends. Unlike others, he died a natural death.
Moran, George “Bugs” – One of Dion O'Banion's three closest men.
Morello, Giuseppe – Counterfeiter and Boss of the Morello family, the first Mafia family on the American gangster scene in cooperation with Ignazio Lupo.
Moresco, Victoria – Johnny Torrio's cousin, married to “Big Jim” Colosimo.
Mr. Martino – Covert rapist.
Ness, Eliot – The man who succeeded in convicting Al Capone of tax evasion.
Newman, Monica – Clever beauty. Emmett's secretary, later Emmett's wife.
Nitti, Frank – One of Al Capone's and Johnny Torrio's closest men.
O'Banion, Dion “Deanie” – Gang leader of The North Side Gang. Loved flowers as much as he hated Johnny Torrio and Al Capone.
Ray, James – One of the hired murderers at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Ricca, “Andy Pandy” – The third of three unfortunate bodyguards.
Rio, Frank – One of Al Capone's and Johnny Torrio's closest men.
Rolfe, Louise “The Blonde Alibi” – Jack McGurn's fiancée.
Rosita – Maria's little sister. Robert's and Linda's maid.
Rothstein, Arnold “The Brain” – Big-time gambler. Of Jewish heritage. Founder of organized crime in the US, with the Italian counterpart as a model.
Scalise, John – The other of the “Murder Twins”, and one of the executioners at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Schwimmer, Reinhart – The North Siders' barber-surgeon, who never got through medical school but became an expert at treating war injuries. Was murdered at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Siegel, Benjamin “Bugsy” – Austrian Jew. One of Lucky Luciano's closest men.
Sunderland, Benjamin – John Sunderland's son.
Sunderland, John – Oil magnate and more – rich beyond measure.
Sunderland, Susan – John Sunderland's wife.
Thompson, William “Big Bill” – Mayor of Chicago. Corrupt down to his last brain cell.
Torrio, Anna – Johnny Torrio's wife, née Jacobs.
Torrio, Johnny “The Fox” – The brains behind everything.
Vanillo, Rocco – Johnny Torrio's cousin.
Weinshank, Albert – One of “Bugs” Moran's closest friends and his factotum. Murdered at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, February 14, 1929.
Weiss, Earl “Hymie” – One of Dion O'Banion's three closest men.
Winter, Dale – “Big Jim” Colosimo's mistress. Later his wife for a few days.
Yale, Frankie – Violent gangster boss in New York.
Zuta, Jack – Advisor of Jewish heritage. The North Side Gang's answer to The South Side Gang's Jack Guzik.
A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
Today when people talk about Al Capone and look back at this incredible gangster's catastrophic career, it is often difficult to differentiate between truth and fiction. The descriptions that are available about his wild life deviate from the actual events, which do not at all reflect the romantic picture that the legends like to portray. The book Al Capone, Johnny Torrio and Virginia blends facts with fiction. Even so, it is my hope that it will be perceived as an honest attempt to create a true reality, to filter away all of the legends and, at least, to fashion a stepmotherly truth. In the final event, it is up to the reader to decide what is true and what is not.
Sten Nordland.
PROLOGUE
New York 1894 - January 17, 1899
Gabriele and Teresina were two of more than 40,000 Italians who had emigrated to New York. It was 1894. Gabriele was twenty-nine years old and would be thirty in December. Teresina was twenty-six and would be twenty-seven the same month. Gabriele was a barber by trade and came from the small village of Castellammare di Stabia, more than 10 miles south of Naples. Teresina was a seamstress, born in Angri in the province of Salerno in southwestern Italy.
At this time, the future looked bleak for the Italian people, with a few exceptions. Italy had big economic problems, or rather gigantic ones – without even mentioning the social and political problems, which were quite simply immeasurable. In other words, it was the usual – as in most countries. And without the necessary money that was kept in the hands of the rich landowners and the powerful, illegal organizations, hope for change was in vain. This is the kind of situation that creates revolutions.
Gabriele and Teresina were both young and daring, and after mature consideration and mutual understanding, they had decided to emigrate to America. Now they had finally arrived in the country of the future – in the city of New York – after a long and treacherous trip. Teresina, who had already given Gabriele two sons, Vicenzo and Raffaele, was pregnant again, and all four members of the family were both tired and perplexed upon arriving in the New World. Finally they ended up in the slums of Brooklyn, at 95 Navy Street, in an apartment with only cold water and a common bathroom for all tenants.
Unlike many other immigrants, Gabriele and Teresina had saved for the trip themselves. They were completely debt-free and even had a small initial capital that was not to be touched. In addition, Gabriele was one of the few who could both read and write, and even if that was only in Italian, it was a great advantage when he went looking for work.
Gabriele was an appealing, exciting man. He had a polite manner, even if he would rather observe than hold forth, and maybe this was the reason he attracted curiosity. He carried within him a reserved portion of both optimism and belief in himself, and the young, newly arrived Italian got a job almost immediately at a grocer's while Teresina sewed small orders and had babies.
In Januari of 1895, Salvatore came into the world, and Gabriele and Teresina could rejoice in three sons. And just one year later, Gabriele opened his own barber shop at 69 Park Avenue in Brooklyn, where after a couple years he was able to get the apartment above the salon as well, and the future began to look more and more like what Gabriele and Teresina had imagined in their dreams. The young family had to work hard, and they were sometimes forced to live under difficult conditions, but together they were a promising and harmonious family, representing in every way the perfect, law-abiding, new American family.
On January 17, 1899, Teresina bore her fourth son, Alphonse. This was a date like any other, but in the long run, it would mean the starting point for a career that no one had ever even dreamed about. About twenty years later, gangster rule beyond all proportions began.
Gabriele and Teresina Capone had given America Al Capone, and the merciless wheel of fortune had been put into motion.
FIRST BOOK
Chicago 1870 – August 17, 1896
European emigration to America had started on a small scale just before the middle of the 1800's but accelerated at the end of the century. And it wasn't just Europeans from Italy who found their way westward. Comparatively speaking, there were just as many Scandinavians, Germans and Irish as Italians and other European nationalities that left their homeland to start a new life. Most of them chose the rapidly growing cities of New York and Chicago, while a smaller but not insignificant number of immigrants, primarily from Scandinavia, chose the countryside in Minnesota over the big cities.
All had their own reasons for moving, of course, but for the most part it was a result of economic and social problems – or political or religious ones.
Chicago was a town on its way up. It was one of the fastest growing cities in the United States. In the year 1870, it had advanced from 92nd place to 5th place, which in turn required an extensive infrastructure – which it didn't have. Chicago wasn't really a shantytown in the true sense of the word, even if those less fortunate lived in old rickety wooden houses without much of anything. The city center was made up of ancient brick buildings that were crumbling to pieces, and the sewage and rainwater pipes leaked into the drinking water, leading to sanitation issues. Just about everything was in substandard condition, and Chicago was crying out for renovation and new construction.
At the same time as everything was collapsing, there was an enormous internal potential, a source of energy in the form of an invincible people's vital power which was as hard to stop as a hurtling train.
It was a question of rearranging priorities for the resources at hand. But before this was done, the inevitable had to be tackled: Chicago needed to be rebuilt from the ground up. In other words, it needed complete renovation ...
The turning point came in 1871 when the problem solved itself. One of the worst catastrophes to befall young America – and to ever happen to the city of Chicago – would instead of decadence and listless depression create an entirely opposite effect.
On Sunday, October 8, 1871, at nine o’clock in the evening, a seemingly minor fire began on De Koven Street in the barn of the Irish family Patrick and Catherine O´Leary. According to legend, it was one of the O’Leary cows that kicked over a kerosene lamp in the straw. Regardless of the cause – whether the fire was the cow’s fault or not – it would probably have not developed into anything more serious than a normal fire if the fire department had reacted according to the book. But such was not the case this time. The dispatch was delayed because the firemen were exhausted after a larger fire in the same area the night before, and when the company finally arrived, the blaze was out of control.
Conditions for a conflagration in Chicago were excellent. The summer had been extremely dry – less than six millimeters of rain – and when all was said and done, within the space of 36 hours, more than a third of Chicago would be destroyed by the flames.
While the O’Leary’s barn was burning down, the violent fire took hold of the West Side, and an increasing west wind poured a wave of flames toward the central parts of the city, which just as quickly were transformed into a matchbook that burned up. What finally stilled the hunger of the flames was a steady rain that moved in from the southwest. But by then, the fire had already reached Lake Michigan, and a total catastrophe was tallied up in an incomprehensible cluster of numbers: 18,000 buildings had been consumed, 3,000 people had lost their lives, and a third of Chicago’s population – 100,000 people – were homeless. The fire had begun in one side of the city and ended in the other. Chicago was destroyed – but not for long.
There is always a point when terror loosens its grasp on a person, when the body is no longer capable of being afraid, when the power to resist against danger has vanished from one’s consciousness. And at precisely that moment, a kind of encapsulated will to do battle, to stand up and fight back, emerges.
There were plenty of reasons to move elsewhere, but the residents of Chicago stayed put. There were still 300,000 Chicago residents with pioneering in their blood, and it is precisely this kind of fighting spirit that provides an unassailable and unbeatable internal power. Despite the tragedies of the hour and the pain that individual humans would never surmount – personal sorrows and losses were incomprehensible stabs in the heart – the golden phoenix rose from the ashes.
x
Karl and Rut Crona and Einar and Augusta Emanuelsson had a long journey behind them when they landed in New York in fall of 1872. All four had come from Dalarna in Sweden, from the tiny village of Mora. They were young and in love and had been married for a couple of years. Not a one of them was yet thirty, and none of them had any children yet, though Rut was three or four months pregnant.
Although the trip they had just completed had been a strain on them, the four newly arrived Swedes stayed no longer than two nights in New York before they continued their travels toward Chicago, their final destination. Their plan was to start their new life somewhere in the 22nd District.
Chicago’s 22nd District had become something of an arrival center for immigrants from Northern Europe, primarily from Scandinavia. Here, a temporary meeting point for immigrants with special talents had been organized in order to attract help with rebuilding the city. Above all they were looking for people in construction, and this had been one of the reasons that weighed most heavily in the Crona and Emanuelson families’ decision to emigrate to America. Both Karl and Einar were talented woodsmen, and considering the situation at the time in Chicago, the two carpenters were certain to be highly desirable. Only one year had passed since the fire, and people here were still in a sort of chaos with memories from the past, but also determined to erase the dismay and to believe in the future. There was a reborn, positive spirit that surpassed the hell they found themselves living in but had not yet succeeded in removing themselves from. People were sharing storms and sunny days, years of famine and abundant harvests alike. Temporary living quarters had been erected, and there were no signs that immigration had tapered off despite the disastrous fire.
It would soon be seen that it paid to think positively.
Karl and Einar got jobs as carpenters immediately in the state’s Department of Reconstruction, and thus the question of living quarters was solved in the blink of an eye as well. In the so-called immigration reception central, the four Swedes had finally gotten to meet their “Iris”, the woman behind all the letters sent between Sweden and Chicago. And Iris had accepted their friendship immediately, just as in their letters. They had written copiously, and all of them seemed to feel the same way: that they already knew each other and had a firm trust in each other.
Iris was born in Sweden, but right before she started school, she and her parents and a younger sister had emigrated to Chicago. That was more than twenty years ago. Now, just one year ago, her parents and sister had met their deaths in the merciless fire which she herself had miraculously survived.
Iris had just turned thirty, and you could see signs that she had experienced quite a few things – you could see that she had had to take care of herself. But she was still an attractive woman who seemed down-to-earth although life had treated her so badly. She was a Scandinavian blonde, shapely with a large bust and curvy thighs, but what you noticed above everything else was the warm and always accommodating attitude she radiated. She was a person who seemed to think more of others than of herself, and she had an amazing ability to always find people’s good sides.
Iris had been around since the beginning and possessed the inner strength that distinguished Chicago’s population and made each resident an ambassador for their own town – which had grown out of nothing into a city of 300,000 and was still on the upswing. And Iris believed that she had had a part in the fact that it was this way.
For five years she had been married to Joseph Benedict, an Italian from Sicily. Their marriage had been childless to that point – that is, they had no children together. Joseph had a ten-year-old son, Fausto, who had followed his father to America after the death of his mother. Now there were three people in the family, and their marriage was happy.
At the moment, Iris was spending the greater part of her energy on helping immigrants from Scandinavia to get settled in their new homeland. And that’s the way it had been for the last five years. Truth to tell, Iris was the primary reason the four Swedes now found themselves in the 22nd District.
In the spring of 1873, Rut gave birth to a son, who was baptized Robert, and the following year, Augusta gave birth to a daughter, Elisabeth. Both of the families were still in the 22nd District, where they had been allotted two serviceable but old-fashioned apartments next to each other. They weren’t exactly living a life of luxury, but they hadn’t expected to either. They were neighbors again, though in a different part of the world, and part of the group of other Scandinavians that had also settled in Chicago’s 22nd District, which would later be called “Little Sicily” – and then “Little Hell”.
Not too far south of Chicago’s 22nd District was the 19th District, called “Little Italy.” There was already a Little Italy in New York, and the small districts with Italian connections would soon win a special form of notoriety in other American cities as well.
Chicago’s “Little Italy” belonged to the city’s Near West Side and consisted of twelve blocks with apartments that stretched down Taylor Street, occupied primarily by European immigrants – Italians, Irishmen, Germans and Scandinavians.
The name Little Italy did not necessarily mean that the majority of the residents were from Italy, but rather that the Italian immigrants centered their culture there – above all, their culinary culture. Here you could find most of what Italian cuisine had to offer in the form of taverns and restaurants, and even a generous assortment of all kinds of Italian shops and other businesses.
Iris, Joseph and Fausto lived in Little Italy a couple blocks from Taylor Street. So far, the 19th District was still a somewhat peaceful neighborhood. People were entirely focused on building a new Chicago, and they had neither the energy nor the time to devote to any other activities. Iris worked at the Bureau of Immigration and Naturalization with her Scandinavian immigrants in the 22nd District, Joseph helped the Italian immigrants, and Fausto went to school.
Five years after the fire, Chicago had risen from the ashes, and after another five years, Chicago’s population had increased to more than a half million residents, of which 4,000 were immigrants from Italy. A lot of things had changed: the population structure within the seventy-two different districts had become organized and, by their own volition, had crystallized out into smaller colonies, and in general, things were going better for everyone. The hard work had paid off. The stream of immigrants that kept flooding in was employed primarily in construction and with the railroad or in one of the large factories.
Little Italy was still the twelve blocks along Taylor Street, and most of its residents lived according to the calendar – they had children, they died and they had children. But alongside all of this, there was a kind of unspoken, restrained tension in the air. It was as if people were waiting for something they knew nothing about, but which they knew would come sooner or later. There was an unpleasant feeling that something that couldn’t be controlled had been set in motion, something that would have an unprecedented effect on their lives. It felt as though there was an atmosphere of evil.
But up to this point, the citizens of Little Italy knew very little about unlimited power, ruthless violence and constant fear. They knew fear of catastrophes, of course, for the recent one had taught them the power of fire and its merciless progress. But fear of those immigrants they worked with daily and struggled together with, that would have been unthinkable. Everyone was here to build a common future.
It wouldn’t be long before it would be time to reconsider.
x
Fifteen year later – 1896 – “Little Sicily” began to take shape. “Little Sicily” was considered part of Chicago’s Near North Side, the 22nd District, where Karl and Rut Crona and Einar and August Emanuelsson had landed in 1872 and lived ever since. At that time, the 22nd District had been the center of Scandinavian immigration, but the explosion-like immigration from everywhere had caused many of the district’s original residents to flee, and the district had quickly changed character. Now the 22nd District was commonly called “Little Sicily”. The once peaceful, well-mannered and enthusiastic immigrants had been taken completely by surprise and the district had been overpopulated by immigrants with the most multi-faceted, multi-cultural, many-colored and multi-lingual background. And all of a sudden, disorder bordering on chaos was at the door, which in turn created fertile soil for the complete confusion which would eventually open the gates for the Italian “new order” which would completely dominate the 22nd District – which in the not-too-distant future would be called “Little Hell”.
However, nobody knew anything about that at this point. So far, the 22nd District was simply called Little Sicily, but the Crona and Emanuelsson families disliked their neighborhood more and more, though they were unfortunately not to get out of it. Both Karl and Einar were still working as carpenters although their work hours were not as long or as demanding as they had been during the reconstruction, when all they did was work and sleep. Now they were able to enjoy a bit of free time, which for the most part was spent at a beer bar together with other carpenters from Sweden who had followed in their footsteps and emigrated to Chicago. The greater part of Chicago’s carpenters were actually still from Sweden, a sort of remnant from the time after the fire when large groups of Swedish woodworkers poured into Chicago. And there was a lot of truth to the statement “it was the Swedes that built Chicago”.
While Karl and Einar were at work doing carpentry outside the home, their wives Rut and Augusta were constantly occupied inside with the usual household tasks, but also with handiwork. They had more free time for their side occupations since their only children, Robert and Elisabeth, no longer lived at home.
Robert Crona, who had changed his last name to “Crown” in order to better fit into American society, was now twenty-three years old and Elisabeth twenty-two. Robert had followed in his father’s footsteps to become a carpenter in a private company, Grover Construction, and Elisabeth worked in the kitchen in an Italian restaurant. Two years ago, the young couple had gotten married after spending their entire childhood and teenage years together. They had followed each other everywhere, and finally they had also gone hand in hand to the altar.
Both of them were attractive and full of life. Robert was slender and well above average in height. He looked boyish with a blond shock of hair, a blinding smile and a pair of hazel eyes. He was charming and extroverted, and he drew people to himself easily.
Elisabeth had developed into a Scandinavian beauty with cornflower blue eyes and the same milky-white teeth as her husband. Her golden blond hair curled down over her shoulders and caused the observer’s eyes to continue their journey down over her well-formed, sensuous body. In contrast to Robert, Elisabeth was more earthbound than extroverted, but she was pleasant in her reserved way and radiated both warmth and kindness in equal portions.
Elisabeth was pregnant, and she was due in the middle of August. It would be a Leo, if the calculations were correct, and both Robert and Elisabeth were looking forward to this date. One year ago, they had gotten an apartment on the same block as their parents, and Robert had worked hard to improve its standard before the child’s arrival. But both of them were more than tired of Little Sicily and the prevailing lack of order that seemed to have taken root for good.
On August 17, 1896, their little angel was born, Virginia Crown. This was a day like any other, but in the long run, it would mean the starting point for a career that nobody had ever dared to fantasize about. Some twenty years later, her desire for a life beyond all dreams would be put to a practical test in an experiment that was just as fateful as it was insane.
Johnny Torrio, Frankie Yale and Big Jim.
Giovanni Torrio would give the word “gangster” new meaning. He would become a successful “gentleman gangster”, but it would take a while.
Before it was time to become a gentleman gangster, it was necessary to know how the gangster world ranked and evaluated its members. It wasn’t like in the military, from corporal to general. And it wasn’t as it was in real life, either, from slimy local politician to irreproachable head of state. Nevertheless, the same things were at stake: to skillfully garner for oneself a pleasant existence without the outside world considering all the requisite, unavoidable crimes and dishonest actions to be anything but childish pranks. And Giovanni Torrio would avail himself of all “childish pranks” there were to be had before he was a fully trained gentleman gangster. His motto was that everything he did had to be for a purpose – his own purpose.
Giovanni Torrio was born in February of 1882 in the small village of Irsina, not far from the city of Matera in Italy. Two years later his father died, and his mother emigrated with her son to America, where they were shuffled off to the slums of Manhattan’s Lower East Side, New York’s “Little Italy”.
Opportunities for Giovanni, or John, as he was now called, to become anything other than a gangster were non-existent, so it was just as well to begin at once. Already as a young teenager, he got to help out in his stepfather’s grocery store, a front for an illegal home distillation operation. At the same time, he became a member of a youth gang, the James Street Gang, whose leader he later became. It wasn’t long before he was given the nickname “Terrible Johnny” because of his cruelty. At the same time, he was extremely effective, and he invested the money he earned in a pool hall which was turned into an illegal gambling parlor. This also included a loan sharking operation as well as other shady activities.
Johnny Torrio’s progress did not go unnoticed. His obvious talent for business had been picked up by Paul Kelly, the leader of the feared Five Points Gang, and a few years later, Johnny Torrio’s James Street Gang was incorporated into the Five Points Juniors, a kind of preschool before membership in the Five Points Gang.
Johnny Torrio was a great admirer of Paul Kelly, who taught him “sense and manners”. The idea was to hide the gangster within – to not be seen, to remain hidden to the public. Enjoying one’s own company, avoiding the spotlight and being content with one’s own applause. Dressing correctly, minding one’s language and always having a legal activity as a cover. In short, it meant to build up a façade with two entrances – an open entryway and a back door that was shut. Securely shut! And with this good advice from Paul Kelly, which Johnny Torrio would follow his whole life and which would transform him from “Terrible Johnny” to “The Fox” because of his cunning and diplomatic behavior, he passed his final examination as a gentleman gangster.
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Francesco Ioele would also become a successful gangster. But in contrast to Johnny Torrio, he was uneducated and his manner boorish, and he remained so his entire life, with few exceptions.
The Ioele family came from Calabria in Italy and emigrated to New York 1901, where they settled in Brooklyn. Francesco was eight at the time. A couple years later, he changed his name to Frankie Yale, and a few years after that he was sucked up into life on the street. He was comparatively small and chubby, but that didn’t seem to matter. Living in Brooklyn meant a wealth of experience with street violence, and Frankie Yale soon became extremely dangerous to meet when it was time to “settle up”. He was just as ferociously brutal towards his enemies as he was extremely generous to his friends, and he liked being called “The Prince of Pals”.
Frankie Yale was and remained a roughneck – an unkempt, ruthless gangster – and being pleasant wasn’t his strong suit, but he had special merits and possessed talents that Johnny Torrio noticed. And since Johnny Torrio was careful to make sure that every action he performed served a purpose – his own – he scooped up Frankie Yale into the Five Points Gang in order to train him for future tasks that might require his abilities.
It would soon be seen that Frankie Yale lived up to Torrio’s expectations, and then some.
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Johnny Torrio worked purposefully, and before long he started a business in Brooklyn’s port area with a perfect façade as a cover for his actual activities, which consisted of all kinds of illegal gaming, including bookmaking. In addition, there were blackmail, usury and protection services, kidnapping, prostitution, drug dealing and murder; these last four were under the direction of Torrio’s new business partner, the wild youngster Frankie Yale. The latter moved his headquarters to his pub, the Harvard Inn on Coney Island.
Meanwhile, Johnny Torrio and Frankie Yale were not the only ones aiming for the stars in New York’s gangster heaven. The Morello family, whose main players were the three brothers Antonio, Nicolo and Giuseppe and the two half-brothers Vincent and Ciro Terranova, was one of the competitors, along with Ignazio Lupo Saietta, whose violent activities broke all records for horror.
Ignazio Lupo was born on March 19, 1877, in Corleone in Sicily, but he had moved to New York as a twelve-year-old after killing a man. Eventually he ended up in Little Italy in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, where he built up his “Murder Stall”, an execution center plain and simple, where he killed those who threatened his march to power without compunction and without embarrassment. In his office he had big meat hooks installed, where his victims were impaled alive and were left to hang, struggling, with a rag stuffed in their mouths. Down in his specially built basement he burned up the disobedient ones who had escaped the meat hooks.
A couple years before the turn of the century, he declared himself the “Boss of Bosses”, and nobody protested. At the same time, the older of the Morello brothers died and Giuseppe Morello took over as Boss for the Morello family together with Ignazio Lupo, who by this time had also married one of the Morello sisters, further strengthening his ties to the Morello mafia, which now had two bosses. Lupo “the Wolf”, as he became known, was thus the first “lone wolf” to build up a mafia organization in America, unscrupulously supported by the Morello family, with whom he would acquire more and more power during the first decade of the 20th century.
And yet, nothing lasts forever – everything comes to an end eventually. Sometimes it takes the form of a liberation, long desired, from something intolerable. Sometimes it is the end of something good. Ignazio Lupo and Giuseppe Morello took on counterfeiting along with all of their other gangster activities; at the turn of the century, this cost Giuseppe Morello three years in jail. Made wise through experience – both the requirements of spending time in jail as well as the knowledge of the sweet profits counterfeiting provided – the business continued but based on a different model. This time the money – five-dollar bills – was printed in Sicily and smuggled into the US and Canada. And while these bills streamed into America and Canada, the real money ran into the pockets of the Morello family and Ignazio Lupo.
But everything has an end, and this time as well, things ended in the courtroom. In 1910, Giuseppe Morello was sentenced to thirty years in prison and Ignazio Lupo to twenty-five years behind bars. And now the path was cleared for Johnny Torrio and Frankie Yale to make their real debut.
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Johnny Torrio’s activities were not significantly affected by the progress of Morello and Lupo. Johnny Torrio had a well-developed intuition for when something could go wrong, which proved to be a big advantage when aiming for the halls of power. And the halls of power was Johnny Torrio’s target as he skillfully circumnavigated any potential confrontation with Lupo and the Morello family. Frankie Yale was still under Torrio’s influence and was so far one size too small to do anything overly hasty in such matters.
At about the same time as Giuseppe Morello and Ignazio Lupo landed in jail, Johnny Torrio was contacted by an older relative, Victoria Moresco, who was married to the Chicago boss “Big Jim” Colosimo. Big Jim needed some good advice and above all help. The Black Hand Gang had been threatening him for some time, but now it was serious.
The Black Hand Gang, whose members were primarily Italian immigrants, had started their activity in New York, where Ignazio Lupo and others had been one of the main players. Originally, the mafia group had been called simply “The Black Hand” and was involved mostly in blackmailing wealthy families for money. If their demands weren’t met, the victims were threatened through letters, which were signed with a black hand.
The Black Hand Gang’s work methods produced unimagined successes, and the organization grew quickly in scope. Before long, it put down roots in Chicago, and by this point, their activities had been expanded to prostitution, loan sharking, home distillation, drug dealing, robbery, kidnapping and murder.
Chicago was perfectly vulnerable to becoming the city of crime. It was a noisy, messy, pugnacious city, full of gambling dens, speakeasies and quarrelsome wills. It was a city where prostitution flourished and alcohol flowed – open to everyone who had the money to pay for a few moments of happiness.
And James “Big Jim” Colosimo served up the joys and merriment. Together with his considerably older wife, Victoria Moresco, he had created a whore’s empire in Chicago whose bordellos took in about $50,000 a month.
Big Jim, born Giacomo Colosimo in 1877 in the town of Cosenza in Calabria, emigrated to Chicago in 1895. He began his career there as a pimp and general small-time gangster. For a brief time he was also a member of the Black Hand Gang, but he broke out on his own and became his own love distributor. It wasn’t long before he was close friends with big-time politicians such as Michael “Hinky Dink” Kenna and “Bathouse” John Coughlin, who knew how to use power and handled things in the right way. The two gentlemen were in charge of nearly everything in Chicago’s downtown Loop and Near South Side, the so-called Levee area, which included the hooker region – the red light district. At the entrance to every bordello, a red lantern was lit at night to welcome the high-spirited guests.
Hinky Dink and Bathhouse took care of everything for the right price, and since Big Jim was who he was – a love wholesaler – his fortune was made and his path to the stars staked out. In 1902, he married Johnny Torrio’s relative, Victoria Moresco, a striking, successful woman who was already established in Chicago and knew how to grease the wheels. Hand in hand, Jim and Victoria took over one bordello after the other and could soon count over two hundred houses of pleasure, which also served as gambling dens as well as centers for blackmail and other criminal activities. At the same time as they did all this, they conducted white slavery with young women who were lured to Chicago by the promise of well-paid work, but were instead drugged, raped and placed in one of the whorehouses or sold to a competitor. The going price was around $400.
Big Jim loved the glamorous life and everything connected with it. He loved to hold court and to be overly generous. But he had no intention of paying protection money to the Black Hand. Hell, he had been a member of the Black Hand Gang himself once upon a time, and done his part. No, being made a victim of his own gangster ways was too much for Big Jim, who at the same time was aware of what could happen to him if he didn’t toe the line. On the other hand, he was Boss in Chicago, although that didn’t usually have any effect in cases such as this. Finishing his life with a bullet hole in his skull was the last thing Big Jim wanted to experience. For this reason he sent a message to Johnny Torrio – “The Fox”.
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Johnny Torrio wasn’t one to avoid getting his hands dirty. The fact that he preferred diplomatic solutions nowadays didn’t mean that he had a diplomatic mind. If you didn’t know Johnny Torrio, you could probably get the impression that he was kind and good-natured, which he could certainly live up to, but Johnny Torrio also knew when it was time to be ruthless. He possessed an imperceptible ability to shoulder the mood that the situation demanded as well as do what was necessary to be properly effective. You could say that everything Johnny Torrio set out to do was done after thoughtful consideration. And after thoughtful consideration, he decided that Chicago’s “Black Hand” would have the protection money they demanded from Uncle Jim, and the parties involved agreed that the money would be dropped off at the corner of Dearborn and Acher Avenue.
Once the three collectors had arrived, they were shot down immediately by Torrio’s men, who had been brought in from the Five Points Gang in New York.
Uncle Jim was happy, of course, but just temporarily relieved, and he asked Johnny Torrio to stay in Chicago and bide his time. “You can stay half the time in Chicago to start with,” he suggested. And when Johnny Torrio accepted the suggestion, Big Jim named him his right-hand man on the spot. About six months later, the main headquarters were moved to Big Jim’s newly opened nightclub, “Colosimo´s Cafe”, at 2126 South Wabash Avenue. Its final design was thanks to Torrio as well. He exchanged the vulgar whores and brought in fresh teenagers. At the same time, he delegated the management of his own activities in New York to the violent Frankie Yale, still a youth.
It wasn’t long before Colosimo’s Cafe was one of Chicago’s most frequented nightclubs. The fact that Big Jim was Chicago’s number one don didn’t seem to bother anyone particularly. It didn’t prevent him in any way from rubbing elbows with the world’s upper class. Enrico Caruso was a regular at Colosimo’s Café along with Al Jolson and John Barrymore. And Sophie Tucker and Charles Lindberg, among others, were happy to be entertained at the nightclub.
Big Jim lived in a way that matched his wealth. He absolutely reveled in luxury and vanity, enjoying his role as Chicago’s Maharaja. He looked like a glittering Christmas tree, usually dressed in a chalk-white suit with huge diamonds on each of his fat fingers and with his belt and shoes encrusted with sparkling jewels. His collar buttons, cuff links and tie clips were also studded with diamonds. It was no wonder that he got the nickname “Diamond Jim.”
All of this and more made “Diamond Jim” popular with the women. And Big Jim loved women as much as they loved him, and so both parties got their fill of each other.
One fine day, Johnny Torrio received a new threat letter from the Black Hand which asked him to pay $10,000 himself or to look forward to dying together with his boss. Johnny Torrio didn’t find either of these choices attractive. There was a third alternative which he thought was better and so he found out who had sent the letter. The sender was the gangster “Sunny Jim” Cosmano, whom Torrio decided to call on in person – and he arrived at their meeting place with a shotgun in his hand. Instead of money, Sunny got a spray of bullets in his belly, and Big Jim, who was deeply impressed with his friend’s convenient solutions to all of his problems – problems which were constantly cropping up – gave him a red Cadillac as an extra bonus.
Big Jim’s next serious worry had to do with his white slave trade, which had become the subject of an investigation. The police had succeeded in tracking down a witness who was willing to reveal the truth about the inhuman treatment of the women, treatment that was comparable to cattle trading. Just before the trial was to begin, the witness, Joe Bovo, had a visit from two members of the Five Pointers, now led by Frankie Yale. Once they explained to Joe Bovo that it would be hazardous to his health to testify, the case was dropped.
But try and try again! Before Big Jim’s next encounter with the law, the police had succeeded in convincing one of the young hookers to testify about the attacks she and her friends had suffered, and she was immediately sent to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where she was hidden. But the police force was well bribed, and Johnny Torrio had no trouble finding “the little whore.” Once again, he asked Frankie Yale to take care of matters, upon which Yale disguised two of his Five Pointers as federal agents. They then took the trusting, well-meaning girl to a more secure hiding place, where she was raped, split open, shot with twelve bullets and finally tossed into a cemetery.
News of this kind spread faster than the wind, and Big Jim was never again inconvenienced by such annoyances.
Recruiting Johnny Torrio as administrator for his shady dealings was the best thing Big Jim could have done, since he was only interested in pleasure, and he came to appreciate Johnny Torrio’s considerable talents more and more. Torrio build up and expanded business a little at a time without attracting any more attention to himself, and since Johnny Torrio was very alert in every way, he soon noticed that Big Jim Colosimo’s activities in Chicago had the character of monopolies. And that wasn’t really that strange since there was only one Boss in Chicago.
But then again, conditions have a chilling tendency to change…
Excerpt 1
Emmett dozed off. Virginia lay awake listening to her brother's gentle snoring and wished that she too could fall asleep soon – and that she would be able to dream something beautiful. Dreams were always beautiful visitations that gave her the power to recreate them in real life. Now she lay waiting for a new, beautiful dream to begin that could rub out the sickening truth that never left her: the fact that she had killed a human being. For a little over a year now, she had been a murderer…
Virginia closed her eyes and saw Mr. Martino's friendly smile before her eyes, standing ready as always to serve her behind the large glass counter in his deli in Little Sicily. He was always happy and solicitous, and proud of his heritage – of being an Italian. He had been born in Naples and emigrated to Chicago as a young boy. He was short and had balding hair, fiftyish and unmarried, and he flirted with anything in a skirt – although in a humorous way and with no ill intent. Everyone in Little Sicily loved Mr. Martino. Virginia bought almost all her food from his shop, and it was only rarely that she went anywhere else.
“Good morning, my dear Virginia! I hope everything is going well this wonderful morning?”
“Good morning, Mr. Martino! Everything is fine. I hope you're well, too?”
“Of course. A sunny morning like this means no clouds of any kind. I see you're carrying a concealed knife, Virginia. How many people have you killed with it?”
Virginia reacted immediately, but she tried to look casual. How could Mr Martino know that she was carrying a knife, let alone the place where she was carrying it? Mr Martino laughed out loud.
“I saw it two days ago when you opened the door and the wind blew your skirt up.”
Virginia smiled, embarrassed. Emmett had given her the knife to defend herself, and she had fastened it to her thigh with a small special leather strap.
“My dear, I'm not scolding you at all,” said Mr Martino, understanding her before she had the time to say anything. “If you live in Little Sicily, you have every reason to be careful,” he explained.
“Actually, I don't know why I have to have it on me during the day like this,” she said, almost defensively. “It's my brother who insists…”
“Even during the day, you have to be on your guard,” Mr Martino interrupted in a way that implied that honesty wasn't taken seriously in Little Sicily. “If you have time, I'll show you something interesting – what can really happen. Do you have a couple of minutes? I won't bite…”
Virginia said yes, and Mr Martino walked around the counter and then over to the door to the shop, which he locked. Then he discreetly flipped over the sign that said “Welcome” and the store hours so that it read “Back soon”.
“Come with me and I'll show you!” he said kindly and continued on down a small hall behind the counter and opened the door to a private room, furnished with a desk and a bed. “Sit down,” he directed her in a gentle tone of voice as if in passing, pointing to the bed, and then went to the desk and pulled out one of the drawers.
Virginia seated herself like a good little dog.
“Here's something for you,” he continued, and began to move his hand around in the drawer as if he was searching for something important. Where had he put his own knife? At the same time, he remembered that he had hidden it in the light fixture after the most recent incident. How could he have neglected such an important detail before he went to work? Now he'd have to pay for it! Although this was all so damned spontaneous from the beginning – usually he had prepared everything down to the last detail. But his feelings had been set in motion, and that meant he had to improvise. Who could have predicted a situation like this? That the opportunity he had thought about planning for such a long time would come up completely without warning, at the same time giving him the possibility of seeing his dreams made real?
“I don't seem to be finding what I'm looking for. May I see your knife?” he said casually.
Virginia hesitated but pulled up her skirt and exposed the inside of her left thigh where the flat knife was anchored in its holder, strapped in so securely that only its owner could undo it.
When Mr Martino got a glimpse of the beginning of paradise, the inviting inside of her white thighs, which he followed with his eyes to what he knew lay inside her panties, he could no longer restrain himself. He started by grasping greedily at the knife, but it was only a gesture, and when he didn't succeed in loosening the weapon, he found his hand inside her panties, and he became aware of the small triangle with sparse hair. At the same time, his right hand found its way in under the white sweater and began to caress her young, mature breasts. By this stage he had completely lost his head. He had never before experienced anything as exquisite. Virginia was an angel whom he could not possibly kill – she represented eternity in all its glory. Eternal beauty …
“I love you, Virginia!” he gasped, and for a moment he forgot the untenable situation. “I will give you everything!” he continued, panting, and was amazed that she didn't scream her distress at what he was doing – and what he was about to do to her – like all the other women did. At the same time, with what little sense he had at this point, he realized that he should have murdered her before all of this started.
Virginia had good presence of mind. Little Sicily had its advantages. Of course she needed sex. In her dreams, she made love over and over again with brave knights and handsome princes, but never with idiots like this one. But they had to be treated in the same way. Her only chance to survive now was Emmett's foresight – the knife.
“I love you too!” she said and pressed one hand against his erection, which she caressed outside of his pants. “Let's make love, darling!” she said passionately.
Mr Martino swallowed all of his remaining good sense and freed himself of his apron. Just as quickly, he removed his belt and was about to undo his fly, when Virginia got up from the bed and with a violent thrust ran her long knife right into the satanic Mr Martino, into the atrium of his heart and through its ventricles. He only had time to look surprised before it was all over. Mr Martino died where he stood.
Excerpt 2
May 8, 1924.
Hymie Jacobs' saloon was a noticeably long bar. Farthest in were a few wooden tables in case someone wanted to eat, and in one corner an electric fan was humming, trying to create something like a draft. To the right after entering the place, a narrow stairway led to the second floor, a few rooms with spartan furnishings and a shower. Hymie Jacobs' saloon was a cheap place.
“Hey handsome, my name is Blondie!”
Al Capone was greeted by a well-endowed blonde who looked like a wandering stack of hay. Her blond hair stood out at all angles, and she did everything she could to accentuate her advantages. Blondie's buttocks begged to be squeezed and her breasts to be fondled.
“If you go ahead of me up the stairs, Blondie, I'll be there in ten minutes,” said Capone. “Make things a little cozy.”
Capone peeled off a twenty-dollar bill from a roll of twenties and the note disappeared quickly into the haystack.
“See you in ten minutes, good-looking!”
Blondie blew him a sensual kiss, turned and set her buttocks wiggling…
Capone smiled contentedly and sat at the bar. He ordered a glass of red wine, and by means of a discreet nod from the bartender, he learned that the person sitting alone on a stool at the end of the bar, sipping a whiskey, was Joe Howard. Capone took the glass of red wine with him and went over to the man. He pushed his white summer hat back on his head and allowed his friendly face to show underneath the brim.
“My name is Al Capone.”
“I know who you are.”
“That's good then. It will make everything easier, Joe. You want to borrow some money, I heard.”
“Apparently your Jewish friend likes to talk too much,” said Joe Howard.
“You threatened my Jewish friend, Joe.”
“And now you're standing here threatening me, you fucking spaghetti eater…!”
These were Joe's last words on this earth. Al Capone's face froze and all the friendliness left it. Long before his arrival at Hymie Jacobs' saloon, Capone had determined Joe Howard's fate. The revolver was already in his hand, and he aimed four shots straight into the surprised man's face and two shots into his right shoulder. This man had insulted and threatened his friend, Jack Guzik.
At the same time as the shots rang out, four of the bar guests got up to leave the place as quickly as possible. At times like this, people first attended to their own needs. Only two people were sitting in the the small dining room, and they studied the scene with equal fear, but understood that it was probably best to stay put and not move too obviously. All of them were in different stages of shock. Al Capone beat them all. This was daily fare for Capone.
“Sit down! Don't let me disturb you,” he said in a soft, charming tone. “Sit down!” he commanded again in a harder voice, and waved his 38 threateningly, for a couple of bar guests still seemed to be planning an escape. “Sit down!” he repeated a third time, now returning to his friendly tone of voice. “I'm buying the next round!” he added magnanimously. At the same moment, Frank Nitti and Frank Rio stepped inside the door with their guns drawn; Capone just as quickly made a sign for them to put their pistols away. Then he turned to the bartender and gave him the rest of the roll of twenties, intended for the cleaning staff and the guests' bar tabs. After this he made his exit, followed by his two bodyguards.
What Capone did in situations like these never tortured his conscience. Johnny Torrio's humble policy fell even further into obscurity ...
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