Read Boardwalk Gangster Online
Authors: Tim Newark
Boardwalk Gangster (4 page)
“Giovanni had apparently dozed off,” said Bonanno. “Alcohol spilled on the floor and flowed under the burner, igniting the still. A screaming Giovanni ran into the street. His clothes, flesh, and hair were on fire.” Passersby slapped him with their jackets to put out the flames, but Giovanni didn’t survive the night.
A more lucrative—and safer—line of business was providing the muscle to protect bootleggers and their illicit breweries—or rip them off. The Diamond brothers were successful at this. Connected to the Big Bankroll, they attracted some of the most vicious hoodlums in the city. Lucania had been handpicked by the Diamonds for his reputation—along with another rising gangster, Dutch Schultz.
The Diamonds liked Schultz because he was a firebrand, a man whose hair-trigger temper spread fear among other mobsters. He was the complete antithesis of Lucania and insulted the Sicilian’s taste for fine clothes. “Only queers wear silk shirts,” he told a reporter. “I never bought one in my life. A guy’s a sucker
to spend $15 or $20 on a shirt. Hell, a guy can get a good one for two bucks.”
to spend $15 or $20 on a shirt. Hell, a guy can get a good one for two bucks.”
In return, Lucania derided Schultz’s meanness. “The guy had a couple of million bucks and dressed like a pig.” With such dissonant characters in the Diamond gang, it was bound to end badly—but in the short term they made themselves rich.
Inevitably, Diamond’s freelance hijacking provoked the wrath of other mobsters. By 1924, “Big Bill” Dwyer had become the biggest importer of whiskey into the United States and was fed up with his consignments being ripped off by Diamond. So, even though Diamond was Rothstein’s chosen bodyguard, Rothstein gave permission to Dwyer to deal with him.
In October 1924, as Diamond was cruising in his limousine along Fifth Avenue, a car drew up alongside and gunmen blasted him with shotguns. Pellets slammed into him but he put his foot on the accelerator and drove himself to hospital. “I don’t have an enemy in the world,” he told the police, but the fact that Rothstein had allowed this to happen sent out a message to the underworld that Diamond’s gang of all-star mobsters was at an end. From then on, it was open season on Diamond. He miraculously survived several further attempts on his life. Despite all that—and probably against the good advice of his quieter associates—Lucania kept a close relationship with Diamond, who frequently stayed at his home when the heat was on.
That Lucania still had a considerable interest in narcotics dealing was proved by an incident in June 1923. In a poolroom on East Fourteenth Street, he met a regular client he’d been supplying for a few months called John Lyons. On June 2, Lucania sold him two ounces of morphine, then two days later an ounce of heroin. On the fifth, Lucania sold him another two ounces of morphine and Lyons pulled a badge and a gun on him. A second armed figure stepped out from a nearby booth. They were undercover narcotics agents and Lucania was under arrest. This was a
considerable blow to the gangster. A second arrest for drug peddling meant he faced ten years in jail.
considerable blow to the gangster. A second arrest for drug peddling meant he faced ten years in jail.
Lucania had to think quickly. Under interrogation, he was asked to inform on his supplier. He broke the Mafia code of
omerta
and coughed up an address where the agents could find a considerable amount of narcotics. But the address he gave at 163 Mulberry Street directed them to his own stash of drugs with a street value of $150,000. As a result of delivering this impressive haul, the case against Lucania was dropped. So, when he was later asked if he’d become a stool pigeon for the police, he could answer “no,” because technically he was not informing on anyone but himself, simply giving up his goods to stay out of a jail—a sensible deal. But the smell of “informer” clung to him after this incident and others claimed that dealers were arrested because Lucania gave names to the police. Certainly, it revealed that Lucania was willing to negotiate with the authorities. This knowledge would encourage future secret deals with the government.
omerta
and coughed up an address where the agents could find a considerable amount of narcotics. But the address he gave at 163 Mulberry Street directed them to his own stash of drugs with a street value of $150,000. As a result of delivering this impressive haul, the case against Lucania was dropped. So, when he was later asked if he’d become a stool pigeon for the police, he could answer “no,” because technically he was not informing on anyone but himself, simply giving up his goods to stay out of a jail—a sensible deal. But the smell of “informer” clung to him after this incident and others claimed that dealers were arrested because Lucania gave names to the police. Certainly, it revealed that Lucania was willing to negotiate with the authorities. This knowledge would encourage future secret deals with the government.
It seems extraordinary that Lucania should expose himself to imprisonment for a handful of dollars. One of his earliest close associates, Frank Costello, was equally surprised. “Dope is for suckers,” he told Lucania. “Dope isn’t like booze and gambling. The best people want to drink. The best people want to place a bet. They’ll thank you for helping them drink and gamble.” The implication was that dope was for lowlifes, but Lucania knew better than that. Narcotics appealed across the social landscape and he knew that Rothstein was okay with it and was not afraid to make links with top dealers. So Lucania nodded his appreciation for the softly spoken advice of Costello, but carried on with business as usual—only paying more attention to whom he dealt with.
By the mid-1920s, the international traffic in smuggled narcotics was well organized and stretched all the way to Europe. A secret report compiled by the commanding officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Montreal, Quebec, in January 1924,
revealed one avenue of drugs into New York. It focused on the activities of a notorious drug smuggler named George Howe who spoke to an undercover agent called “Dufresne.”
revealed one avenue of drugs into New York. It focused on the activities of a notorious drug smuggler named George Howe who spoke to an undercover agent called “Dufresne.”
“Howe has told Dufresne,” said the report, “that one Rosenblatt a heavy narcotic dealer of New York City who has recently visited Montreal, has given Howe some $2000 with which to purchase narcotics in Europe.”
Howe was born in Belgium but traveled on a British passport issued in Ottawa. In 1920, he oversaw the shipment of a number of statuettes purchased in Brussels, Belgium. Nine of the statuettes contained 51
1/2
ounces of morphine sulphate and two others 5
1/2
ounces of cocaine hydrochloride. They were destined for a millinery store in Quebec, but the deal went bad when the recipient—a “Madam Howe”—was arrested.
1/2
ounces of morphine sulphate and two others 5
1/2
ounces of cocaine hydrochloride. They were destined for a millinery store in Quebec, but the deal went bad when the recipient—a “Madam Howe”—was arrested.
Howe was also closely connected with Laurent Deleglise, who headed a major smuggling network bringing drugs from Europe into Canada. One of his favorite methods of trafficking narcotics was described in another Canadian police report of September 1923.
The shipper of the drugs would load up one or two trunks full of drugs and send them aboard the ship, taking tickets, he would then miss the boat and the baggage would be held unclaimed. The shipper would then arrive by another route or boat and go to some small town and wire or write for his trunks, omitting to send the keys. The Baggage man would explain the difficulty of opening the trunk to the Customs Officer who would not bother his head and pass it out, or possibly the Customs man was squared, this is not known. It is known that he was either crooked or too lax to open the trunks.
This was just one way in which narcotics flowed into Canada and on to New York in the 1920s. When Deleglise forwarded narcotics to the United States, he had them sent by express to a
Japanese store in New York—his distribution center for the city. This may well have been the source for Lucania’s narcotics during this period. By the end of the decade, the market had grown enormously and it was this that attracted Lucania, Jack Diamond, and their associates to set up their own narcotics importing business based in Germany in 1930.
Japanese store in New York—his distribution center for the city. This may well have been the source for Lucania’s narcotics during this period. By the end of the decade, the market had grown enormously and it was this that attracted Lucania, Jack Diamond, and their associates to set up their own narcotics importing business based in Germany in 1930.
Frank Costello was learning, like Rothstein, that life in the shadows was much more profitable than headline-making gangster antics. A Calabrian by birth, he and his family came to East Harlem and he earned an early reputation as a teenage tough guy. But as his own gang grew and developed their interests in bootlegging, he could see the real power lay in organization and fostering links with the establishment, leaving the rough stuff to the mad-eyed hoodlums. A few years older than Lucania, he would become an important elder statesman in the New York Mafia.
Other key figures also started to coalesce around Lucania and Lansky. There was Louis “Lepke” Buchalter, who worked for Rothstein first as a union enforcer and then graduated to running major labor racketeering as well as dealing in narcotics with Lucania. Then there was Vito Genovese, a coldhearted assassin who operated under Masseria’s wing but recognized Lucania’s potential. Willie Moretti carved out gambling and bootleg interests in Brooklyn and New Jersey, recruiting a small army of some sixty gunmen. Among the up-and-coming young killers were Joe Adonis and Albert Anastasia.
By the mid-1920s, this association of top liquor racketeers was known as the “Big Six” and was said to include Lucania, Lansky, Siegel, Lepke, Longy Zwillman, and Jacob “Gurrah” Shapiro. A later FBI report doubted whether they were ever known at the time as the Big Six, quoting a criminal informant who said that “the term ‘Big Six’ probably referred to the better known men controlling bootlegging in the East who had allotted
territories in which they operated.” This informant also stated that the groups maintained liquor headquarters at many of the leading hotels in New York City. This was true. Sometime in 1924, Charlie Lucania and Meyer Lansky leased a suite in the Claridge Hotel. That was their base, but their business stretched everywhere.
territories in which they operated.” This informant also stated that the groups maintained liquor headquarters at many of the leading hotels in New York City. This was true. Sometime in 1924, Charlie Lucania and Meyer Lansky leased a suite in the Claridge Hotel. That was their base, but their business stretched everywhere.
Even though he wasn’t part of the Diamond gang, Lansky had impressed Lucania with his business skills and they forged their own alliance. Lansky had met Rothstein and the Big Bankroll gave him his blessing as a trusted associate. But the mobsters who didn’t like each other were the old Sicilian gangsters—led by Joe “the Boss” Masseria—and the Jews. Whenever they could, they beat up on each other. According to Lansky, an opportunity arose with the arrival of a consignment of Scotch whisky in Atlantic City. It was destined for an associate of Rothstein—Waxey Gordon—in Philadelphia and he had arranged for Joe Masseria’s heavies to guard the convoy of booze.
Bugsy Siegel, Meyer’s violent sidekick, got word of the deal and their gang grabbed their weapons and, wearing masks like old-time outlaws, prepared an ambush for the Italians. A tree was cut down to block the road. At 3:30 A.M., the four trucks loaded with bottles shuddered to a halt and ten of Masseria’s gunmen climbed out to pull away the tree trunk. A fusillade of bullets tore into them. The mobsters that survived the gunfire quickly surrendered but were savagely beaten by the vengeful Jews, who hated the way they looked down on them.
The problem for Lansky was that one of the surviving Sicilians recognized him and reported the hijack back to Masseria. Joe the Boss wanted Lansky and Siegel dead but knew he couldn’t move against them because they were close to Lucania and he valued their business alliance. Word was passed on to Waxey Gordon, who also wanted revenge for this humiliation, particularly as he owed Rothstein his slice of the business, but Gordon held his tongue, too, because Rothstein hated Masseria and didn’t want Masseria knowing that he’d subcontracted his business
to the Sicilians. In that way, Lansky and Siegel got away with the ambush, but it was not forgotten, and it exacerbated the vendetta between the Sicilian and Jewish mobsters.
to the Sicilians. In that way, Lansky and Siegel got away with the ambush, but it was not forgotten, and it exacerbated the vendetta between the Sicilian and Jewish mobsters.
Sometimes Lucania got caught up in the frequent ambushing of liquor deliveries. On February 9, 1927, truck driver Joseph Corbo reported to the police that he had been held up in Brooklyn by three men armed with revolvers. Their truck was loaded with sacks of grain and denatured alcohol. Corbo and his assistant were ordered into a Flint sedan and taken to Seventh Avenue and Twenty-second Street in Manhattan, where they were told to walk away. The sedan was licensed to Anthony Scalise, who was arrested for the robbery, along with Carmine Napoletano, Charles Paradiso, and John Manfredi. Lucania was associated with the Scalise family and he was arrested as a material witness. He was promptly dismissed from the case, but Scalise and the others were convicted of the armed robbery and received hefty prison sentences.
It was in 1927 that Lucania moved into the plush Barbizon-Plaza Hotel, where he rented a suite. To shield his real identity, he registered at the hotel under the Anglo-Saxon name of Charles Lane. The anonymity of hotel life suited Lucania and he stayed there on and off for several years. Sometimes hotel living provided other opportunities.
Joe Bendix was a thief who preyed on hotel guests, stealing jewelry from them. In the summer of 1928, he stole an emerald necklace and some bracelets, rings, and brooches worth a total of $50,000 from an out-of-towner at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Thinking of how to dispose of it, he approached Lucania. They rode around Central Park in a taxi as Lucania examined the jewelry. From there, they went down to the Jewelers Exchange on the Bowery near Canal Street, where Lucania had the stolen property appraised. A week later, he met Bendix at the Chesterfield Hotel.
“I went into one of the pay toilets there,” said Bendix on oath at a later trial, “and he looked it over, looked over the things to
see if they were the same things; checked up on them and turned over the money to me. He had the money in a little brown paper portfolio.” Bendix claimed Lucania paid him $24,000 for the stolen emerald necklace and other pieces. Perhaps it was intended as an impressive present for one of his uptown lady friends.
see if they were the same things; checked up on them and turned over the money to me. He had the money in a little brown paper portfolio.” Bendix claimed Lucania paid him $24,000 for the stolen emerald necklace and other pieces. Perhaps it was intended as an impressive present for one of his uptown lady friends.
After the breakup of Diamond’s bootleg gang, Lucania went back to working with the Sicilians as well as developing his own business with Lansky. At the same time, Rothstein was stepping away from bootlegging. Instead, he preferred to fund speakeasies and make a mockery of the law by subverting thousands of illicit liquor court cases. As Rothstein let slip his control of the underworld, Joe the Boss stepped up the activities of his Mafia family with Lucania firmly back in the crew. But even though liquor no longer linked Rothstein to Lucania, narcotics did. This business suited Rothstein’s links with Europe and he invested his money in importing heroin and opium. He opened up links with Asian sources in China and British Hong Kong. The drug shipments were hidden in a string of art galleries and antique shops set up by Rothstein in Manhattan.
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