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Dutch Schultz


 Dutch Schultz



By
John William Tuohy

Schultz Dutch. Born Arthur Simon Flegenheimer AKA Beer Baron of the Bronx, AKA Charles Harmon, AKA Dutchman. Born Aug. 6, 1902. Died October 23 1935.
Schultz's father, a German immigrant, abandoned  the family when Schultz was 14 year old, but the Dutchman, a nick named he enjoyed, would also deny that his father had left the family. Instead, he told people that his father had died young of natural causes.
      Schultz grew up in poverty. His mother, Emma, also a German immigrant and a devout Jew, worked as a building handyman at an apartment building at Bergen and Webster Avenues,  for free rent but no pay forcing Schultz to leave grammar school and find work as a go-fer for a neighborhood gangster. He soon graduated to stick up robberies of poker games and then burglary.
    Arrested for breaking and entering, Schultz was sent to Blackwell's Island (now known as Roosevelt Island) reformatory and then transferred to a work farm in upstate New York because of his belligerent behavior.  He escaped from the farm, was recaptured and sentenced to an additional two months before he was released back to the streets of Manhattan.
    In 1928, Schultz and his lifelong friend Joey Noe opened a speakeasy  and eventually branched out to bootlegging beer in the Bronx. The problem was that the Bronx was already under the control of the Rock brothers, John and Joe. A sporadic shooting war broke out which drove John Rock out of the city completely.
     Brother Joe decided to fight it out. Schultz ended the struggle by kidnapping Joe, hanging from a meat hook and beating him for several days and then taping his eyes closed with a gang that was infested with the gonorrhea virus.  Rock’s family eventually paid $35,000 for his release but by then he had gone blind.
     From the Bronx, Schultz branched out into Manhattan and once again stepped into a territory claimed by another bootlegger, this time the bootlegger was John Nolan, AKA Legs Diamond, a shrewd, tough Irish hoodlum who had been trained in the underworld arts by Arnold Rothstein.
     As it was in the Bronx, a sporadic shooting war began in Manhattan between Schultz and Diamond. Arnold Rothstein backed Legs Diamond financial and took care of the gangster’s political protection. Rothstein wanted to avoid a street war and demanded that the two sides meet and settle their differences. They planned to meet on October 15, 1928 at the Chateau Madrid nightclub on West 54th Street near Sixth Avenue.
At the meeting, an agreement was reached in which Diamond would give up some of his territories for cash from Schultz and Noe.
     When the meeting ended, at 7:30 AM, Schultz and Noe walked out onto the street and were ambushed by Diamonds gunmen. Although Noe was wearing a bullet-proof vest, one shell caught him in the lower spine.
 Schultz managed to fire off several shots and Diamond’s men speed off in blue Cadillac. When police found the car, Louis Weinberg (no relation to Shultz gang members Bo and George) was in the back seat, dead. Joey Noe died a month later from his wounds.
 There is some evidence to support the theory since George McManus, Rothstein’s alleged killer, called Schultz’ lawyer immediately after the shooting and Bo Weinberg picked up McManus an hour later and drove him out of the city and into hiding.
    A month later, on October 1929, while Legs Diamond was staying at the Hotel Monticello, gunmen burst into the room and sprayed it with bullets, hitting Diamond five times. Remarkably he survived, but left for Europe shortly afterwards. He later pulled out of New York City completely and reestablished himself in Albany.
  Schultz paid his men a salary, something that was virtually unheard off in the criminal world, and a part of the salary refused to allow them to moonlight on their own. In 1930, Vincent Coll AKA The Mad Mick, revolted, and demanded a percentage of Schultz’s beer and gambling empire, which, Coll’s mind, he had helped to build. Schultz, a notoriously cheap man, refused and Coll went to war with him.
   Vincent 'Mad Dog' Coll was born in Tigh Hiudai Beag's bar in the Rosses, Co. Donegal, Ireland in 1908.  In his brief career he was a murderer, bootlegger, kidnapper, extortionist, hijacker, torturer, hit man and loan shark.  At age one, Coll arrived in New York with his family in 1909 and settled in the Bronx. His father Toaly Coll abandoned the family and was never be heard of again. His mother, worn out, died in 1916. Five siblings died before he was 12, of poverty, tuberculosis and penury.   Coll started in the rackets after his release from reform by signing up as enforcer for Dutch Schultz. Kidnapping was his favorite means of persuasion.
   One of victims had his eyes bandaged with gonorrhea-infected cloth and died blind.  Coll is also credited with the kidnapping of Broadway impresario Rudy Vallee, who had a smash hit in the sixties with ‘How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.’ 
Popular legend has it that Vallee was forced to part with $100,000 after Coll had burned the soles of his feet to a crisp.
 Others claimed that the parsimonious crooner managed to beat his rabid captor down to a mere $10,000 before securing his release. Vallee however, always dismissed these accounts as mere urban legends. He told veteran journalist, Paul Sann, author of Kill the Dutchman, that there was not a scintilla of truth in the tale;  “Larry Fay (another gangster) used to come into the club, the Villa Vallee. He took a liking to me and sometimes gave me a lift downtown in his armored car. One of my friends spotted me in the car with Larry one day and nearly fainted at the thought that I was being taken for a ride.  That’s how the kidnapping thing got around but I can’t imagine how Coll got mixed up in it.” 
   Sherman Billingsly, owner of the legendary speakeasy, the Stork Club, on West Fifty-eight Street, described by gossip columnist Walter Winchell as ‘New York’s New Yorkiest place.’ Billinglsy’s success at the club had been hard-earned. He had struggled to make a fist of it when he first moved to the city from Oklahoma. With prosperity, however, came the hassles of extortion. Dutch Schultz, Bo Weinberg and Julie Martin all tried to cut themselves in as equal partners. ‘I laughed,’ Billingsly later recalled, ‘and they countered with a guarantee of union troubles.’
   Vincent Coll was not so easily brushed aside however, He kidnapped Billinglsy and held him for three days in a Bronx garage, beating him to a pulp, until he eventually exacted a ransom of $25,000 from him. 
He free-lanced for a while as a paid gun. One of the men who employed him was Sal Maranzano, the Mafia boss who ruled over New York. Maranzano wanted his chief underboss, Lucky Luciano, dead.    On September 9 1931, Lucky Luciano’s boss, Maranzano called Lucky and told him he wanted to see him in his office with Vito Genovese.
 Frank Costello had already told Luciano that Maranzano intended to kill him. Instead, Luciano sent a hit squad of four men, dressed as federal agents, over to Maranzano’s office near Grand Central Station.
The hit squad was an all-Jewish lineup that included Bo Weinberg, the headstrong Bugsy Siegel, and Sam Levine, an Orthodox Jew who refused to kill on the Sabbath. Maranzano, accompanied by five bodyguards and his secretary, was in his office waiting when the agents arrived. Maranzano, who had been advised by his lawyers to cooperate with all police officers, identified himself.
  The bodyguards were lined up against the wall and disarmed, while Maranzano was stabbed repeatedly in the chest and body pumped full of lead. The killers dashed out of the office and down the stairs.
  Sam Levine later revealed that on their way down the stairs they were met by the unsuspecting Vincent Coll who had arrived to murder Luciano .‘Beat it, Vince,’ Bugsy Siegel advised, by way of professional courtesy, ‘the cops are on their way.’ 
   Coll was happy to oblige. He pocketed a down payment of $25,000, he now had no task to complete, nor anyone to whom to refund the advance.
    In 1931, Dutch Schultz walked into the 42nd precinct in the Bronx and strolled into the detective's squad room and said, "Look, I want the Mick killed. He's driving me out of my mind. I'll give a house in Westchester to any of you guys who knocks him off."
   "Arthur," the big cop said, "do you know what the hell you're saying? You know you're in the Morrisania station?"   "I know where I am. I've been here before. I just came in to tell ya I'll pay good to any cop that kills the Mick."    "If you tell us you know what you're saying, Arthur," a Detective said "then you must be out of your head."
   "I know what I'm saying," Schultz replied. "The guy that kills the Mick gets the Honor Medal anyway--I'm just makin' it more interesting." "Okay," the Detective said  "Then get your ass out of here before we pinch you. You hafta be out of your head." "We never could have made it stick,"
A policeman who was present said. "The Dutchman would have walked out five minutes after his lawyer arrived. He'd just say he was kiddin' with us. Besides, it was a good bet by then that Schultz and the Mick were going to take care of each other, one or the other, without our help. We had our hands full just picking up the bodies they were scattering around the borough in those days."
   The origin of the Schultz-Coll war started when Coll announced that he wanted his own piece of the beer business in The Bronx and Harlem. Schultz denied him a slice of the pie and Coll went on a rampage. Schultz trucks suddenly began to fall to hijackers and his drivers were murdered.
By 1932, the estimated number of thugs killed in the war was in or about 30 men, some say as high as 50.  Madden, a Welshman, like Chicago’s Murray Humphreys, was born in Liverpool, England in 1892. His family moved to New York in 1903, to live in the slums of Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen. 
   A graduate of the Gopher’s street gang, in 1914, he was sentenced to twenty years in Sing Sing prison for murder. Paroled in January 1923, He dropped his violent and erratic street thug ways and looked for ways to earn cash without resorting to his old standby of one armed robbery.
Prohibition was the answer. He began working as an enforcer for Larry Fay
In Fay’s bootlegging operations and with the money he earned from Fay, Owney bought a brewery of his own. By 1930, Madden, who worked closely with what would become the national syndicate, was one of the nation’s largest and richest bootleggers. 
   On the night of June 15, 1931, Coll and friends drove to the Club Argonaut on Seventh Avenue and kidnapped George Jean (Big Frenchy) DeMange, the clubs owner. He was also Owney Madden's partner in a string of Manhattan rackets including bootlegging, extortion, protection sport fixing Both men had teamed up as boxing promoters and controlled the interests of five world champions, including Rocky Marciano and Max Baer. As teenagers, the duo had been sworn enemies; Madden had been the leader of the infamous Gophers, while De Mange had been a top enforcer with the rival Hudson Dusters gang. Together, they formed one of the most enduring business partnerships in the history of New York crime.   A lovable rogue, Big Frenchy was admired and respected by gangsters and cops alike. Known for his bristling wit and broad humanitarian outlook. He carried an air of benevolent authority wherever he went. He had a well-lived-in-face, with folds of flesh protruding from under his chin like tired, pink putty. His hair was heavily gelled and parted into unruly tufts. Though he had an arrest record for homicide, burglary and safe-breaking. Big Frenchy had never been convicted of any crime but he was rich.….which is exactly why Coll snatched him.
    On the afternoon of 15 June 1931, Coll contacted De Mange and suggested a meeting several hours later. He said that he wanted to cut a deal with the Duke. Though a phone call from Coll should always have been treated with caution, in his zeal to avoid any possible rift Big Frenchy threw caution to the wind and agreed to meet him at Broadway and Fiftieth Street.
   The mid-Manhattan location was obviously designed to ward off any possible skullduggery on the part of Coll. Crazy as he was, there was no way that Coll would stage a heist on Broadway in the middle of the day. The sun was throbbing in the sky as the appointed hour approached. People welled at street corners to find some relief from the sweltering summer heat. Yet Vincent, ominously enough, was wearing an overcoat. Big Frenchy’s sedan pulled up at the curb. He left his bodyguards at the car as his lumbering frame strode purposefully towards Coll with a wholesome smile and an outstretched hand.    ‘Walk’, he ordered, in a low, measured tone.
   De Mange felt the bulge of a muzzle wrinkling his undershirt. He was stunned at the audacity of the act – in broad daylight in one of the busiest streets in New York City. It took a while for the extreme gravity and urgency of the situation to register. Coll’s icy countenance suggested, however, that this was not the time to dilly-dally.
‘Why, man this silly,’ Big Frenchy was reported to have protested. ‘If it’s money you want you can have it. But don’t try any of this gun stuff.  ’‘I ain’t here to argue,’ Coll retorted, in a tone of sullen irritation. ‘Get inna car’. ‘OK, Vince,’ Big Frenchy was reported to have said, ‘but lemme tell those two mugs who are supposed to be bodyguards what I think of ‘em.’   The ransom was paid, $35,000 cash, considerably lower than the several hundred thousand Coll had in mind and Big Frenchy was released.
    Now Coll had Owney Madden to worry about. Madden crawled out of the slums of Liverpool to settle in the slums of Hell's Kitchen. He was only 17 when they started calling him Owney the Killer, 18 when he took over the West Side's Gopher Gang, 19 when he was credited with two murders, 20 when he was attacked by a small army of rival Hudson Dusters who shot him five times and 22 in 1914 when he went to prison for the murder of Little Patsy Doyle. He was released from Sing Sing in 1923 and had 23 arrests to his credit. He built a massive criminal empire across New York and then Coll snatched one of his partners. 
   On July 28, 1931, a steaming summer day, a touring car carrying five gunmen drove into crowded East 107th Street in Spanish Harlem, slowed down in front of Joey Rao's Helmar Social Club and blasted it with machine gun and pistol fire. Remarkably, none of the Schultz followers were injured in the hail of 60 bullets. However, a five-year-old boy, Michael Vengalli, was killed, and four other children playing on the slum street were wounded. The headline screamed "Baby Killing" and the police lost no time in naming Coll as the shooter. Coll now became known as “The Mad Mick” and “Mad Dog”    Coll was arrested for the murder and tried but he had the best lawyer in the city, Samuel Leibowitz, later a County Judge in Brooklyn.
The state’s star witness, George Brecht, turned out to be a felon from St. Louis who had made a specialty as an eyewitness in murder trials. Coll was acquitted.   Coll celebrated by marrying 23-year-old Lottie Kriesberger culminating a courtship which began when she was 16.   In October 1931, Coll’s men gunned down Joe Mullins, a 50-year-old $50-a-week odd-job man for Schultz. They gunned him down in front of a beer drop on Park Avenue, in the Lower Bronx. The gunmen, Dominic (Toughy) Odierno, 23, and Frank Giordano, 32, had been Schultz thugs who switched over to Coll’s camp. Both gunmen were identified on the scene and later executed by the state for the killing.
   Peter Coll, the older brother, was killed next, cut down on a Harlem street corner. The underworld said that the killing was done because Schultz had come up with the $10,000 bail Vincent Coll needed on a Sullivan Law arrest (Carrying a firearm) a year before, but the Mick failed to show up for his court date, forcing Schultz to lose the bail bond.  Vincent Coll retaliated by murdering four of Schultz’s men in the next few weeks. The war had reached such a peak that New York City Police found themselves doing free guard duty at the Schultz beer drops. Before long, the cops started driving off with the beer themselves, costing Schultz a small fortune over a period of weeks.
   On February 1, 1932, four gunmen dropped kicked in the door of a
a card game in a four-family frame dwelling on Common- wealth Avenue in the North Bronx. and sprayed the room with gunshots. Coll’s right hand man, Patsy Del Greco was dead on the floor along with Fiorio Basile, another Coll triggerman, Mrs. Emily Torrizello. Louis Basile, a brother of Fiorio, was wounded, along with another woman guest. Two children playing in the apartment, and two babies in cribs, were unhurt.
   Then there was the matter of the $50,000 price on Master Coll's head, or so said Street information. Coll and his wife holed up in the Cornish Arms Hotel on 23rd Street although he probably had a backup rented room nearby. On February 8, 1932, Coll left his room around 12:30 A.M. and went to the London Chemists drugstore across the street either to take a prearranged phone call or to make some calls without running the risk of a police bug. He had $101.48 in his pockets and no gun.  
He went directly to one of the three phone booths in the back. 
According to Underworld informants, Coll was arguing with Owney Madden over the phone. Madden was calling from Harlem 's Cotton Club.
    A limousine drew to the curb and three men got out. Two of them stayed outside the drugstore.  Informants later said that the man at the wheel was Bo Weinberg. The third went in and told the five people there, two clerks and three customers, calmly, "All right, everybody, keep cool now and you won't get hurt."  
Then he drew a Tommy gun from under his coat, lined up in a firm stance a few feet away from the Mick's booth, and opened fire. At least 50 slugs slammed into the phone booth that held Coll.
One slug had smashed into the right side of his face, broken his nose and lodged in the brain. Two others entered his forehead, one came to rest above his heart, and he had seven wounds in the right arm and four in the left arm.  The autopsy would show 15 steel-jacketed slugs in what was left of Coll's body but it would not necessarily show how many others had passed through him. 
  Lottie Coll, wearing the same red dress she had on the day they were married, rushed into the drugstore, screaming and weeping hysterically over the horrifying scene. Police Commissioner Mulrooney said "He was double-crossed and put on the spot by his own bodyguard"
   There was supposed to be an around-the-clock tail on Coll by the New York City police in the hopes that he might lead the cops to Fats McCarthy who was wanted for his role in the East Harlem shooting spree, and in the slaying of Police Detective Guido Passagno in a gun battle in Manhattan several months before.
No one could explain why the cops had failed to tail the Mad Mick.
As for McCarthy, he fled to a hideaway outside Albany and was promptly killed in a gun battle with State police.
Police long suspected that McCarthy assisted in the Coll murder after taking the contract from his ex-employer, Dutch Schultz, because of a passing argument between McCarthy and Coll.  The Coll funeral on February 11, was held in a steady drizzle of rain. The Catholic Archdiocese made sure no Priests were available for the funeral. Less than 100 people, most of them gawkers, came to pay their last respects.
   No one went to the St. Raymond's Cemetery except Coll’s wife.  Coll was laid to rest in St. Raymond's cemetery in the Bronx where his brother Peter lay. He was buried in an imitation metal coffin over which there was a simple wreath of red and white flowers bearing that age-old legend of the ever- anonymous underworld, "From The Boys." The only letter of condolence came from Alice diamond, the late Legs' widow
    On the headstone over the grave alongside this mortal enemy of the Dutchman's, the mourners could read this: "In loving memory of my beloved brother, Peter. Died May 30, 1931. Age 24. Rest in peace. Coll." A week after Coll was buried at St Raymond's was the scene of the mysterious $50,000 ransom handover by Lindbergh kidnapping go-between John 'Jafsie' Condon who tossed the loot over the wall just beside Coll’s grave.
     With the end of prohibition, Schultz spread out to gambling and the Harlem numbers racket. The numbers racket, essentially a lottery, was a simple formula. The players picked three numbers hoping to match the last three numbers taken from the odds at the racetrack, which was posted in the newspapers every morning.
      Schultz’s man Otto Berman, AKA  "Abbadabba," could calculate, in seconds, the minimum amount of money Schultz would need to bet at the track at the last minute in order to alter the odds, thereby ensuring that he always controlled which numbers won the lottery.
     Indicted by U.S. Attorney Thomas E. Dewey for income tax evasion, Schultz used his influence to have the trail moved to far upstate New York. There, he doled out cash to virtually any local who asked for it. He sponsored charity events and contributed to local events. Not surprisingly, he was acquitted in the summer of 1935.  
     Aside from bootlegging, Schultz was also invested in extorting Manhattan restaurant owners and workers and union extortion. Schultz’s unions were organized under an association he had made up, the Metropolitan Restaurant & Cafeteria Owners, which was run for him by an enormous thug named Julius Modgilewsky, aka Julie Martin.
     While Schultz was busy with his tax trial, Martin started skimming from the unions, assuming, like most, that Schultz would be found guilty and go to jail. Schultz lured Martin to a meeting at the Harmony Hotel in Cohoes, New York on  March 2, 1935, when Martin admitted taking $20,000, Schultz, in front of a room full of witnesses and his lawyer, Schultz calming pulled out a revolver and shot Martin in the mouth. Later, he used a switchblade to cut his hear tout before dumping his lifeless body on the side of a deserted road.  
     When the trial ended, New York City officials flatly told Schultz that he was no longer welcomed in the city and that he and his gang who be arrested on site, repeatedly, if he didn’t leave on his own. Schultz moved across the river to Northern New Jersey. 
     At this point, Schultz appeared before the newly former national crime syndicate and advocated the assassination of Thomas Dewey, claiming, correctly it turned out, that if the mobs didn’t take get rid of Dewey, Dewey would get rid of them. Although waterfront Boss Mafia Boss agreed with Schultz, the others turned him down. Exactly what happened next isn’t know but either Schultz accused the other mobsters of setting him up for Dewey so they could take over his rackets, or he threatened to murder Dewey on his own, or both. Regardless, his fate was sealed. After Schultz left a vote was taken and it was agreed Schultz had outlived his time. Lepke Buchalter from Brooklyn was handed the contract to finish Schultz off. 
    The Syndicate handed the job to its enforcement arm, a group of Brooklyn based, mostly Jewish gangsters who had dubbed themselves “Murder Incorporated, who in turn handed the Schultz contract to Charles Workman, AKA "The Bug," "The Powerhouse," and "Handsome Charlie, crawled out of Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1908, one of seven children.    His first arrested, of record anyway, came at age 18 for stealing a $12 bundle of cotton thread from a truck. A year later he was pinched again for shooting a man in a dispute over $20. The victim refused to Press charges, but Workman was sentenced to the New York State Reformatory for violating parole in the cotton theft case. Over the next decade he would be locked up on a series of charges, most of them minor in nature and all of them violent.
   In the early 1930s, Workman became a gun-for-hire in the Brooklyn based Murder, Inc. for $125 a week. When bootlegger Dutch Schultz threatened to murder New York’s District Attorney Dewey, the Mafia ordered Murder Inc. to take out Schultz.
 Workman’s partners on the hit were Murder, Inc. lieutenant Emmanuel "Mendy" Weiss, and a driver identified only by his nickname, "Piggy." 
    On the night of October 23, 1935, Workman walked into the Palace Chophouse in Newark, while Weiss provided cover outside although other put Weiss and Workman in the Barroom together.
   At 10:15 on October 23, 1935, Schultz was meeting with Otto Berman, Abe Landau, and bodyguard his Lulu Rosenkrantz at the Palace Chophouse in Newark, New Jersey owned by Jacob Friedman, co-owner of the Chop House with Louis Rosenthal. The Dutchman had been using a backroom at the restaurant as his new headquarters since he had been chased out of New York. Schultz left the group and stepped into the men’s room.
   A few moments later, Charles Workman and ‘Mendy Weiss, both part of  Lepke Buchalter's Murder, Incorporated gang in Brooklyn burst into the restaurant.
    The bartender on duty recalled that at about 10:15 "The front door opened suddenly and a heavy-set man(Workman) walked into the barroom and I heard a voice order, 'Don't move, lay down.' I could hardly discern his face as he pulled his topcoat up to hide it. I saw him place his hand on his left shoulder and whip out a gun from a holster. I didn't wait any longer. I dropped to the floor and lay behind the bar." 
   Weiss entered behind him, who kept his overcoat drawn around him but not buttoned. They headed straight for the dining room.   Workman drew a .38 and emptied it towards the gangsters, while Weiss fired the shotgun.  Seven shots ripped through Rosenkrantz, six hot Berman and three struck Landau.
The wounds were everywhere, wrists, elbow, shoulder, face and neck.  It was over in seconds. Lulu Rosenkrantz managed to pull out a 45 but was quickly cut down.  Otto Berman, the oldest of the trio was hit six times.
 All the wounds--body, neck, wrist, elbow and shoulder were on the left side. Abe Landau was hit with a single shot that went through his left shoulder from the back. Another one went through the upper left arm and a third tore a gaping hole through his right wrist.   Two stray shots smashed the mirror. Four or five other bullets lodged in the walls.
    Both gunmen, who knew Schultz by sight, saw that the Dutchman wasn't at the table.
Workman rushed into the bathroom and found Schultz at the urinal. The Dutchman, who was wearing his topcoat and hat,  reached for a switchblade but Workman fired first, two shots. The first missed, the second entered the Dutchman’s chest, about an inch below the heart. It cut down through his spleen, stomach, colon, liver, and gall bladder and ripped out through his lower back.  A second bullet missed. 
      Schultz picked himself up from the tiled bathroom floor, put his hat on his head, staggered out of the bathroom and collapsed in a chair. He called for help and demanded someone phone an ambulance. At that, Rosenkrantz  pulled himself up from the floor, staggered to the bar, slapped a quarter down on the bar and told the bartender to give him change for the phone. He managed to find his way into a phone booth and called police.
     The bartender recalled, "The first thing I noticed was Schultz. He came reeling out like he was intoxicated. He had a hard time staying on his pins and he was hanging on to his side. He didn't say a cockeyed thing. He just went over to a table and put his left hand on it kind of to steady him and then he plopped into a chair, just like a souse would. His head bounced on the table and I thought that was the end of him but pretty soon he moved. He said, 'Get a doctor, quick,' but when he said it another guy gets off the floor (Rosenkrantz) He had blood all over his clothes but he gets up and he comes over to me and he looked like he was going to cry. He throws a quarter on the bar and he says, 'Give me change for that,' and I did."
    "Send me an ambulance, I'm dying," he barked before he collapsed but police already had several calls about the shooting probably from the nearby bus terminal.


     When the police arrived at the Chop House, they gave Schultz a glass of brandy to sip while he waited for the ambulance to take him. Landau, although bleeding to death, gave police a fake name and address. When they did arrive he handed them twenty dollars and asked them to take care of him quickly.  Otto Berman was alive, but just barely. He died shortly after  being taken to the hospital.
    Landau died eight hours after being wheeled into the hospital. Having converted to Roman Catholicism shortly before his death, a priest, per Schultz's wife's request, performed the Last Rites of the church on Dutch. (Schultz claimed to be many things in his life including Orthodox Jew, Episcopalian and Roman Catholic. He did have a true interest in things religious and often, in times of crisis in his life, turned to various faiths for direction)   The bullet had destroyed almost all of Schultz’s abdominal organs. He died of peritonitis 22 hours after being shot. Lulu Rosenkrantz, only 33 years old, died six hours later.
    Before he left the scene of the murder, Workman, a dope addict, went through the Dutchman’s pockets for cash and then ran out to the getaway car only to find out it was gone. His partners had left without him. Workman walked back to New York. Workman demanded that the mob give him Weiss’s for abandoning him. A meeting was called with Lepke Buchalter who listened to both men pled their cases.  Weiss won out with the reasonable argument that the shooting was business and robbing Schultz wasn’t. He had warned Workman to leave and when he didn’t, they left without him.    In 1940, Abe Reles, a mob informant, spilled the beans about Murder Inc. and Charlie Workman was quickly arrested and stood trial.
   Abe Reles, protected by a squad of New York City cops, was tossed out the window of his hotel room where he was being kept under the government protection as he testified against members of Murder Inc. Upon learning of Reles death, Lucky Luciano said “That bird could sing but he couldn’t fly” The line was later used in the film On the Waterfront
    With the court and the case fixed against him, Workman pled no contest to the charges against him with the statement "I, Charles Workman, being of the opinion that any witness called in my defense will be intimidated and arrested by members of the District Attorney's office or police officials and not wishing members of my family and others to be subjected to humiliation on my account, do hereby order you as my counsel not to call any witnesses in my defense except myself. And I forbid you to call any other witnesses to the stand. "I further state if such witnesses are called I will openly state in court I do not want them to testify."  
   Workman was permitted a brief visit with his brother Abe, who threw his arms around him and wept uncontrollably. The Bug heard him give this advice "Whatever you do, live honestly. If you make 20 cents a day, make it do you. If you can't make an honest living, make the government support you. Keep away from the gangs and don't be a wise guy. Take care of Mama and Papa and watch 'Itchy' (a younger brother). He needs watching."
 Workman was sent to Trenton State Prison. In 1942, he offered the Navy his services to go on a suicide mission against the Japanese Navy. The offer was declined.
   In 1947 it was announced that he was dying from complications which had set in after an operation for gallstones.  He was transferred to the Rahway State Prison Farm in 1952, and the question was asked, would a guy like that be safe in there? No problem. "Nobody is going to bother him in here," said Acting Superintendent Stephen Francsak. "It is just like on the outside. The men look up to a man with his background." He survived and worked in the prison commissary and Library and became a trusty.
   He was a model prisoner, minding his own business, doing his work. He was denied parole in 1956.    "If I had a thousand inmates like him I wouldn't have to worry with this job," said Warden Warren Pinto. "He's just like an ordinary guy, not one of the 'big shots' who try to gain special favors. He never asks for anything." The prison psychologist had Workman listed as "a reasonably stable individual    He was granted parole in 1964.
 On his way to jail, Workman spoke to Stephen P. Flarity; a Newark News reporter.
"Charlie," Flarity said, "will you tell what you had intended to say if you took the witness stand?"
"Ask Kessler," Workman replied.
"Did Reles and Tannenbaum tell the truth on the witness stand?"   
"Why not ask them?"    
"Charlie, were you in Newark on the night of October 23, 1935?"
"Steve," Workman replied, "it's all over now. If you come to see me in 15 years I might talk to you."
  But he never talked about any of the twenty murders including the Dutch Schultz murder.
    As for Crazy Owney Madden, he retired from the rackets in the early 1930s, and moved to Hot Springs, Arkansas, a fast-developing tourist resort with a reputation for illegal gambling and a wide-open policy on victimless crime. Owney of course, had some financial interests in a few casinos and once in while open his home to gangsters on the run from the law.  Al Capone was an occasional guest as was Lucky Luciano.
   Once, a deputy sheriff knocked on Madden’s door in the middle of the day and announced that he had brought along some out of town visiting relatives who wanted to meet the gangster in the flesh. Owney was gracious and spent several minutes with the visitors. When they were about to leave, he pulled the deputy aside, and never losing the smile on his face whispered “You ever pull a stunt like that again and I’ll ripe your heart out with a kitchen knife”   Owney "Killer" Madden died in 1964 of natural causes in Hot Springs. He died peacefully and wealthy at the age of 72.





                                THE LAST WORDS OF DUTCH SCHULTZ

             



                 October 24, 1935

Statements made by Arthur Flegenheimer (alias "Dutch Schultz") in the Newark City Hospital on the above date between 4 P.M. and 6:00 P.M.; from stenographic notes made by F. J. Long, Clerk-Stenographer, Newark Police Department. Schultz was irrational, suffering with a fever of about 106 degrees, (He was also heavily sedated on morphine) with a gunshot wound. Sergeant Luke Conlon, Detectives from Newark Police Headquarters and from the Prosecutor's Office were at his bedside. One of the officers had a newspaper”

Schultz noticed the newspaper and said: Has it been in any other papers?
(Then, relapsing into irrationality) Now listen, Phil, fun is fun. Aha....Please! Papa! What happened to the 16? Oh, Oh... He done it? Please..please..John, please. Oh, did you buy the hotel; you promised a million...sure. Get out! I wish I knew. Please make it quick; fast and furious; please…...fast and furious. Please help me get out; I'm getting my wind back, thank God! Please, please; Oh, please. You will have to, please....tell him, "You got no case."

    You get ahead with the dot and dash system. Didn't I speak that time last night. Whose number is that in your pocketbook, Phil? 13780. Who was it? Oh!...Please, please.. Reserve decision; police, police; Henny and Frankie....Oh, Oh; dog biscuit, and when he is happy he doesn't get snappy....Please, please do this! Henny, Henny; Frankie! You didn't meet him; you didn't even meet me; the glove will fit what I say....Oh, kayiyi, kayiyi! Sure, who cares? when you are through! How do you know this? Well then...Oh, Cocoa; no...thinks he is a grandpa again and he is jumping around. No; Hoboe and Poboe I think mean the same thing.

Question by Sergeant Conlon: Who shot you?
Answer: The bos [sic] himself.

Q: xxx He did?
A: Yes: I don't know

Q: What did he shoot you for?
A: I showed him boss; did you hear him meet me? An appointment; appeal stuck. All right mother.

Q: Was it the boss shot you?
A: Who shot me? No one.

Q: Was it bow-legs?
A: Yes, he might have shot me; it wasn't Robeck (?) or the other guy; I will see him; I never forget and if I do I will be very careful.

Q: Was it bow-legs who shot you?
A: I don't know who shot me, honest to God! Suppose you help me get up now, like a swell fellow.

Q: We will help you.
A: Will you get me up? O.K., I won't be such a creep. Oh, mamma, I can't go through with it, please. Oh...and then he clips me; come on, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcut that out, we don't owe a nickel; fold it! Instead, fold it against him; I am a pretty good pretzeler....Winifred...Dept. of Justice; I even got it from the Department, sir. Please, stop it; say listen, the...last night.

Sergt. Conlon: Now, don't holler.
A: I don't want to holler.

Q: What did they shoot you for?
A: I don't know sir; honestly I don't. I don't even know who was with me; honestly. I went to the toilet; I was in the toilet and when I reached the.....the boy came at me.

Q: The big fellow gave it to you?
A: Yes, he gave it to me.

Q: Do you know who that big fellow was?
A: No. See, George, if we wanted to break the ring. No....please; I get a month. They did it. Come on: cut me off and says you are not to be in the beneficiary of this will. Is that right? I will be checked and double-checked and please pull for me.

(One of the detectives) We will pull for you. Schultz. Will you pull? Will you pull? These native children make this and sell you the joint. How many good ones and how many bad ones! Please, Joe. Please! I had nothing with him; he was a cowboy in one of the....seven days a week fight. No business, no hangout; no friends, nothing; just what you pick up and what you need.

Sergeant Conlon: Who was it shot you?

Schultz: I don't know. No; don't put anyone near this check; the check. You might have; oh, please. Please do it for me. Let me get up, sir, heh? That is Connie's, isn't it? Uh heh. In the olden days they waited and they waited. Please give me my shot. Please. Oh...Oh...It is from the factory. O.K. Sure, that is a bad...well, Oh, go ahead; that happens for crying; I don't want harmony: I want harmony. Oh, mamma, mamma. Who give it to him? Who give it to him? Tony?
Let me in the district; ....fire...factory that he was nowhere was near. It smoldered. No, No! There are only ten of us and there are ten million fighting somewhere in front of you, so get your onions up and we will throw up the truce flag. Oh, please let me up; Leo, Leo! Oh, yeh! No, No; I don't....please! Please shift me. Police are here; communistic....strike....baloneys....Please; honestly it is a habit I get; sometimes I give it and sometimes I don't. Oh, not; I am all in; say....That settles it. Are you sure? Please, he eats like a little sausage baloney maker. Please, let me get in and eat. Let him harrass [sic] himself to you and then bother you. Please....Don't ask me to go there; I don't want to. I still don't want him in the path. Please, Leo, Leo; I was looking for something. Meet my lady, Mrs. Pickford, and I am sorry I acted that way so soon, already. Sure, it is no use to stage a riot. The sidewalk was in trouble and the bears were in trouble and I broke it up. Please; Oh, mamma! No knock to her, she didn't know. Look; that is it. She let her go the opposite. Oh, tell me. Please; put me in that room; please keep him in control; my gilt-edge stuff, and those dirty rats have tuned in. Please, Mother, Mother, please, the reaction is so strong. Oh, mamma, mamma, please don't tear; don't rip; that is something that shouldn't be spoke about; that is right. Please get me up my friends; I know what I speak of. Please, look out, the shooting is a bit wild, and that kind of shooting. Saved a man's life. Oh, Elmer was. No, everything frightening; yes, no payrolls, no walls, no coupons. That would be entirely out; pardon me; Oh, yeh! Oh, I forgot I am plaintiff and not defendant. Look out, look out for him. Please……..and he owes me money; he owes everyone money. Why can't he just pull out and give me....control.....all right, please do. Please, Mother! You pick me up now. Please, you know me. Oh, Louie, didn't I give you my door bell? Everything you got, the whole bill. And did you come for your rest in the doctor's office, sir? Yes, I can see that. Your son-in-law, and he isn't liked, is he? Harry, does he behave? No; don't you scare me; my friends think I do a better job. Oh, police are looking for you all over; please be instrumental in letting us know. That wouldn't be here; they are Englishmen and they are a type I don't know who is best, they or us. Oh, sir, and get the doll a roofing. Please. You can play jacks, and girls do that with a soft ball and do tricks with it. Please; I may take all events into consideration; no, no. And it is no; it is confused and it says no; a boy has never wept...nor dashed a thousand kim...Did you hear me? Now leave it or take it. No, I might be in the playing for I know. Come on over here; come on over. Oh, Duckie, see we skipped again.

Question by Detective: Who shot you?
A: I don't know.

Q: Was it the big fellow?
A: I don't know.

Q: When you were coming out of the Toilet?
A: I don't know. Pick me up. No, no, you have got to do it as I see it. Please take me out of the bed.

Q: The doctor wants you to lie quiet.
A: That is what I want to do. I can't come; express office was closed. Oh, mamma, mamma. Please, please...

Q: How many shots were fired?
A: I don't know; none.

Q: How many?
A:  Two thousand; come on, get some money in that treasury; we need it; come on, please get it; I can't tell you to. You are telling the truth, aren't you, Mr. Harris. That is not what you have in the book. Oh, yes I have. Oh, please, warden. Please. What am I going to do for money. How is that; how do you like that? Please put me up on my feet, at once. Thank you, Sam, you are a boiled man; I do it because you ask me to. Did you hear me? I would hear it, the Circuit Court would hear it, and the Supreme Court might hear it. Come on, pull me up, sir. All right. Cam Davis. Oh, please reply. N.R.A. If that aint the payoff. Please crack down on the Chinaman's friends and Hitler's commander. All right, I am sore and I am going up and I am going to give you honey if I can. Look out. We broke that up. Mother is the best bet and don't let Satan draw you too fast.

Question by Detective: What did the big fellow shoot you for?
A: Him? John? Over a million, five million dollars.

Q: You want to get well, don't you?
A: Yes.

Q: Lie quiet.
A: Yes, I will lie quiet.

Q: John shot you; we will take care of John.
A: That is what caused the trouble. Look out. All right, Bob. Please get me up. Come on, John, get me up. If you do this you can go on and jump right here in the lake. I know who they are; they are French people....Malone....All right; look out, look out! Mamma, mamma....Oh, my memory is gone. A work relief....police. Who gets it? I don't know and I don't want to know, but look out. It can be traced. That is the one that done it, but who had that one; oh, oh, Mamma, please let me get up. XXX He changed for the worse. Please, look out; my fortunes have changed and xxxxcome back and went back since that. It was desperate Ambrose, a little kid. Please; look out....Look....Mike....Please, I am wobbly. You aint got nothing on him, but we got it on his helper. Please....

Q (Detective): Control yourself.
A: But I am dying.

Q: No you are not.
A: Move on, Mick and mamma. All right, dear, you have got to get it.

At this point the nurses changed the dressing, 4:40 P.M., and
"Schultz" asked for a drink of water which was given to him. When one of the nurses was taking off one of his garments he said, "Look out for my xxxxx ring."

Mrs. Flegenheimer (Above) was brought in.

Mrs. Flegenheimer: This is Frances
Schultz: Then pull me out, I am half crazy. They won't let me get up; they died my shoes, open those shoes here. Give me something; I am so sick. Give me some water, the only thing that I want. Open this up, break it so I can touch you. Dannie, will you please get me in the car. Now he can't butt in. Please, Nick, stop chiseling.

Mrs. Flegenheimer left the room.

Question by Detective: Who shot you?
A: I don't know; I didn't even get a look. I don't know. Who can have done it? Anybody. Kindly take my shoes off.
Q: They are off.
A: No, there is a handcuff on them. The Baron does these things.
I know what I am doing here with my collection of papers, for crying out loud. It isn't worth a nickle to two guys like you or me, but to a collector it is worth a fortune; it is priceless. I am going to turn it over to.....Turn your back to me, please, Henry. I am so sick now. The police are getting many complaints. Look out. Yey, Jack; hello Jack. Jack, mamma. I want that G-note. Look out, for Jimmie Valentine, for he is an old pal of mine. Come on, Jim, come on Jimmie; oh, thanks. 0. K. O.K. I am all through; I can't do another thing. Hymie, won't you do what I ask you this once? Look out! Mamma, mamma! Look out for her. You can't beat him. Police, Mamma! Helen, Mother, please take me out. Come on, Rosie. O.K. Hymes would do it; not him. I will settle.....the indictment. Come on, Max, open the soap duckets. Frankie, please come here. Open that door, Dumpey's door. It is so much, Abe, that....with the brewery. Come on. Hey, Jimmie! The Chimney Sweeps. Talk to the Sword. Shut up, you got a big mouth! Please help me up, Henny. Max come over here....French Canadian bean soup....I want to pay, let them leave me alone....


The closing line came on the stroke of 6 P.M.










Polly Adler, one of the Dutchman’s favorite madams. The oldest of nine children of Gertrude Koval and Morris Adler, Polly Adler emigrated to America from Yanow, Russia, near the Polish border at the age of 14 just before World War I. She worked in clothing factories and sporadically attended school. At 19, she began to enjoy the company of theater people in Manhattan, and moved into the apartment of an actress and showgirl on Riverside Drive in New York City. She opened her first bordello in 1920, under the protection of mobster Dutch Schultz and a friend of mobster Charles "Lucky" Luciano. One building in which she plied her trade was The Majestic at 215 West 75th Street, designed by architects Schwartz and Gross and completed in 1924 with hidden stairways and secret doorways. Her brothel there boasted such patrons as Robert Benchley, New York City mayor Jimmy Walker, and mobster Dutch Schultz. In the early 1930s, Adler was a star witness of the Seabury Commission investigations and spent a few months in hiding in Florida to avoid testifying. She refused to give up any mob names when apprehended by the police. She survived by providing half of her income to her underworld safety net.  For over 20 years, Adler kept active by moving her brothel from apartment to apartment. She retired in 1944. Adler attended college at age 50, and wrote a bestselling book, ghosted by Virginia Faulkner, A House is Not a Home (1953), allowing her to live off the proceeds. She died in Los Angeles, California in 1962.



Sherman Billingsley (March 10, 1896 – October 4, 1966) was a nightclub owner and former bootlegger: When an older brother committed a murder and was sent to prison and upon his release from jail, he enlisted Sherman as an assistant in his bootlegging business. The family moved again, this time to Oklahoma City where Sherman was again drawn into the bootlegging business by another of his older brothers. This business extended into Omaha, Toledo, and Detroit. In Detroit at age 18, Billingsley was arrested and convicted on Federal charges. He was sentenced to 15 months in prison, and spent time in Leavenworth before his conviction was reversed. When his brother ran out on his Detroit mob partners, he left for New York, with Sherman joining him within a short period of time. Prohibition taught Billingsley that having a drug store was like having a license to sell liquor. He began buying drug stores in New York City and even started his own real estate office to help him acquire drug stores. He created and owned the Stork Club which became the epitome of glamor. From the time of the speakeasy until the 1960s, he held court on East 53rd Street. In 1951, the Stork Club began to decline in popularity after refusing service to Josephine Baker.



Larry Fay (1888 – January 1, 1933) was one of the early rumrunners of the Prohibition Era in New York City. He made a half a million dollars bringing whiskey into New York from Canada. With his profits he bought into a taxi cab company and later opened a nightclub, the El Fey, on West 47th Street in Manhattan in 1924, featuring Texas Guinan as the emcee and a floorshow produced by Nils Granlund.  Fay, who had a record of forty-nine arrests but no felony convictions, was involved in several enterprises in the ensuing years, and was said to have amassed and lost a fortune. He was made a partner of the Casa Blanca Club, where he was shot four times after a 1932 New Year's Eve celebration by the club's doorman who had just learned his pay was being reduced by Fay to accommodate a new employee. He died the next day.


On November 4, 1928, Arnold Rothstein was shot and mortally wounded while conducting some business affairs at Manhattan's Park Central Hotel. He died the next day at the Stuyvesant Polyclinic Hospital in Manhattan.  The shooting was allegedly linked to a gambling event that Rothstein had participated in the previous month with several associates and acquaintances. According to underworld folklore, it was a spectacular three-day, high-stakes poker game held somewhere in Manhattan. Rothstein apparently experienced a cold streak with the cards and ended up owing $320,000 at the end of the game. However, Rothstein refused to pay the debt, claiming the game was fixed. The hit was arranged to punish Rothstein for reneging on this debt. Gambler George "Hump" McManus was arrested for the murder, but later acquitted for lack of evidence. Rothstein, on his deathbed, refused to identify his killer, answering police inquiries with "You stick to your trade. I'll stick to mine" and "Me mudder did it". Rothstein was buried at Ridgewood's Union Field Cemetery in a Jewish Orthodox ceremony.  Another theory about Rothstein's death is offered by crime reporter Paul Sann in his book Kill the Dutchman. Sann alleges that Dutch Schultz murdered Rothstein in retaliation for the murder of Schultz's friend and associate, Joey Noe, by Rothstein's protégé, Jack "Legs" Diamond.





Bo Weinberg and SchultzAbraham "Bo" Weinberg (1897 – September 9, 1935?) was a Russian-born, Jewish New York City mobster who became a hit man and chief lieutenant for the Prohibition-era gang boss Dutch Schultz. As Schultz expanded his bootlegging operations into Manhattan during Prohibition, he recruited Abe Weinberg and his brother George into his gang. Abe Weinberg would become one of Schultz's top gunmen during the Manhattan Bootleg Wars and was a later suspect in the high-profile gangland slayings of Jack "Legs" Diamond, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, and mob boss Salvatore Maranzano. In 1933, Schultz was indicted for tax evasion. Rather than face the charges, Schultz went into hiding and Abe Weinberg assumed control of his criminal operations. When Schultz returned from hiding, he became suspicious of Weinberg. It was rumored that Weinberg had been secretly negotiating with mob boss Lucky Luciano and Murder, Inc. boss Louis Buchalter to retain control of the Schultz organization. On September 9, 1935, Bo Weinberg left a Midtown Manhattan nightclub and was never seen again. Conflicting reports emerged about the manner of his death. Gangland lore held that Schultz had personally executed him with a .45 automatic in a Midtown hotel room, while Schultz's lawyer Dixie Davis reported witnessing Schultz's bodyguard Lulu Rosenkrantz shoot Weinberg in the back of a car after a night of drinking; Davis later maintained that the shooting could have been accidental. Schultz himself informed Weinberg's brother George that "We hadda put a kimono on Bo," Schultz's code phrase to indicate that Weinberg's corpse had been encased in cement and dropped into the East River.

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