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John William Tuohy lives in Washington DC

John Tuohy's History of the Chicago Mob (A)


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Accardo Anthony Born 1906 Died 1992 Mob Boss. AKA Joe Batter, Big Tuna, JB: Tony Accardo was and remains, without a doubt, the most successful, the most powerful, most respected and the longest-lived Boss the Chicago syndicate, if not in all of organized crime.   During his tenure, Accardo's power was long reaching and frightfully vast.  He was so respected and feared in the national Mafia that in 1948, when he declared himself as the arbitrator for any mob problems west of Chicago, in effect proclaiming all of that territory as his, no one in the syndicate argued. 
    Unlike Torrio, Nitti or Ricca, Tony Accardo looked exactly like what he was, a mob thug who could and did dispatch men and women to their death over money or the slightest insult, real or imagined.  He was a peasant, even he said that.  But he was also reserved man and a thinker, unlike his Colosimo or Capone or Giancana and all those who came after Giancana. Accardo knew his limitations. He consulted often with his mentor, Paul Ricca and his top advisor Murray Humphreys because he recognized their intelligence and wisdom and he used it.  He admitted to not having the outward intelligence of Ricca or Frank Nitti or Johnny Torrio or even the flare and occasional self-depicting wit of Capone or Giancana.   Yet, it was Accardo who expanded the Mobs activities into new rackets. It was Accardo who, recognizing the dangers of the white slave trade, streamlined the old prostitution racket during the war years into the new Call-Girl (or Out-call) service, which was copied by the crime New York families.
     Two decades after prohibition was repealed, Accardo introduced bootlegging to the dry states of Kansas and Oklahoma, flooding them with illegal whiskey. He moved the Mob into slot and vending machines, counterfeiting cigarette and liquor tax stamps and expanded whole sale narcotics smuggling to a worldwide basis.[1] He had the good sense to invest, with Eddie Vogel (4300 Marina Drive) as his agent, into manufacturing slot machines and then placed them everywhere, gas stations, restaurants and bars. When Las Vegas exploded, Accardo made sure the casinos used his slots and only his slots.
     Watching someone as clever as Paul Ricca and as smart as Frank Nitti go to jail over the Bioff scandal, Accardo pulled the organization away from labor racketeering and extortion. Under Accardo's reign, the Chicago mob exploded in growth and grew wealthy as a result.   The Mob grew, because, outside of the Kefauver committee, there wasn't a focused attempt on the part law enforcement agencies to bust up the Chicago syndicate.  The FBI was busy catching cold war spies and they didn't acknowledge that the Mafia or even organized crime existed anyway.   Under Accardo's leadership, the gang set its flag in Des Moines Iowa, down state Illinois and, Southern California and deep into
Kentucky, Las Vegas, Indiana, Arizona, St. Louis Missouri, Mexico, Central and South America. Accardo's long reign highlighted a golden era for Chicago's syndicate.  It also ushered in the near collapse of the Mob as well.  In 1947, as Tony Accardo took the reins of power from Paul Ricca, the Mob produced $300,000,000 in criminal business per year.  Accardo, Humphreys, Ricca and Giancana taking in an estimated $40 to $50 million each per year as their cut. (Or Points as it’s called in the underworld)   Accardo pensioned off the older members of the mob and gave more authority to the younger members of the mob, mostly former 42 gang members like Sam Giancana, the Battaglia’s and Marshal Caifano.  The money poured in, in hundreds of thousands of dollars every day from all points where Chicago ruled. The hoods that had survived the shoot-outs, gang wars, intergang wars, purges, police shootings, the national exposés and the federal and state investigations now saw what they had hustled so hard for.
   Crooked financial mangers invested his cash.  By the time he died in 1992, Tony Accardo, the son of illegal immigrant parents from an Italian ghetto in a Chicago slum, had legal investments in transportation as diverse as commercial office buildings, strip centers, lumber farms, paper factories, hotels and car dealerships, trucking, newspapers, hotels, restaurants and travel agencies.  He dictated to his men that [2]"When things are in order at home, it's easier to concentrate on business" [3] so although he allowed them their mistresses and girlfriends, it was his rule that his men spend times with their wives and children. Accardo himself was said never to have cheated on his wife of many years, Clarice.  He declared that no one in the organization could ever threaten or harm a policeman or member of the media, in so long as they were honest and doing their job, they were to be left alone. Yet when an honest Chicago policeman named Jack Muller[4] ticketed Accardo car for double parking outside the Tradewinds, a mob salon on Rush Street, Accardo made sure that officer Muller was made an example of by his superiors. From that day on, it became commonplace to see hoods park their cars where ever they pleased along Rush Street and other places.  Like his mentor Paul Ricca, it was Accardo's firm belief that in order to avoid the tax men, that the Mob should conduct itself as meekly as possible to avoid public attention. Accardo decided that he would keep the lowest profile a mob boss could have and he directed his under bosses to follow the same route. They did, except for Sam Giancana. Also like Ricca, Accardo preached moderation, low profile and patience in all things but unlike Ricca, Accardo seldom practiced what he preached.   His estate in exclusive River Forrest, outside of Chicago was extravagant. Far more extravagant then he would allow for any of his men.   Accardo bought the estate in 1943 when he started to roll in wartime profits. It had twenty-one rooms, a built in pool...in the house...a black onyx bathtub that cost $10,000 to install in the fifties, and a bowling alley. The baths were fitted with gold inlaid fixtures, the basement had a large gun and trophy room that sometimes doubled as a mob meeting hall. It had vaulted ceilings, polished wood spiral staircase, a library full of hundreds of volumes of books, pipe organ and a second bowling alley. His backyard barbecue pit, a status symbol in gangdom, was the largest in the Mob only because nobody was stupid enough to build a larger one than the bosses. The half-acre lawn was surrounded by a seven-foot high fence and two electrically controlled gates. "It was," wrote Sam Giancana's daughter Annette, "almost obscene the way he flaunted his wealth."
    By early 1940, Accardo was a power in Chicago and in the national Mafia. He managed to have a 1944 arrest for gambling withdrawn, when he told the court that he intended to join the Army. 
   Accardo's lawyer, the legendary mob mouthpiece, George Bieber[5], (1905-July 24, 1981) told the court: "This young man is eager to get into the fight, don't deny him that right” The judge released Accardo on the agreement that Accardo would report to his draft board, which he did. But, by then, Accardo was running the Chicago Mob since Paul Ricca was in jail. He already had a 21-room mansion, and an estimated income of $2,000,000 a year, and he wasn't about to give it up for the $21 a week paid to an Army Private. Two days later Accardo appeared before the draft board, explained his background in crime, his position in the organization and was summarily rejected by the Army as morally unfit. The gambling charges were dropped because Accardo had done as he was ordered by the court. In 1945, after he was instrumental in the release of his boss, Paul Ricca, from federal charges for his role in the Willie Bioff scandal, Ricca resigned as the Mobs leader, and promoted Accardo to the top spot. Accardo held the position, off and on, for the next forty years but in 1958, Accardo called the mob together at the Tam O'Shanter restaurant and introduced Sam Giancana as the new boss with the simple sentence: "This is Sam, he's a friend of ours."

Accardo, Martin L.: Born 1898. Died October 1980. Lived at 2114 south 56th avenue.  One of Tony Accardo brother. In 1932, he did a year in prison for violation of the National Prohibition Act in 1932. In the 1940s, he moved to Florida and resided at 1217 Granada Boulevard, Coral Gables, Fla. [6]  He owned the Circle Club in Cicero which was essentially, a casino/strip joint and claimed an income of  $600 a month from the OKAY motor company as a “road superintendent”  Martin and Tony Accardo were arrested April 29 1931 by plain clothes prohibition agents when they came to collect from the Sunnyside Inn near Glenview.  John Matties (who may have been Frankie Foster, Jake Lingle killer)  was with them. They were all released on a  10 k bond) The group had left a case a whisky that the bar owner Richard Sieffert insisted he didn’t want.
  Martin Accardo was indicted May 2 1931 for violation of parole act in relation to the Sunnyside incident. Judge John P Barnes sentenced him to 4 and a half year in prison but the sentenced was overruled in 1949.  Several years later, in 1951, Martin was living part time in Coral Gables, Florida when his former wife, Rita Yelverton, mentioned to a reporter that Martin had once invested $100,000 in a Florida newspaper, the Morning Mail. The paper, in answer to the Kefauver Committee, had written glowing articles about New York Don Frank Costello. As a result, Martin was called before the Committee but refused to answer any question, only giving the repeated answer “I refuse to answer and invoke my fifth amendment right”   The committee then called in the papers publisher Richard Moser who said he couldn’t recall ever having met Martin Accardo. The committee produced a photo of Accardo standing next to Moser on the newspapers opening day and Moser corrected his answer. On July 19 1951 Accardo was cited with contempt. On March 4 1952 he was sentenced to a year prison. A later IRS investigation, concluded in April of 1963, placed a $260,000 fine on him. On October 26, 1954, he pled guilty to tax evasion and Judge Julius J. Hoffman sentenced him to three years in jail and $100,000 in fines. In Aril of 1962, Martin (Then living at 1601 Westchester) was arrested with Frankie Santucci and Vito Lombardo for possession of stolen coins. Santucci, born 1926. (444 Saint James Place and later 5115 Polk Street) was arrested on Feburary 11, 1953, Santucci was arrested with his common law wife and ex stripper Billie Eggleston, for possession of stolen articles (Burglarized goods)   The stolen property included furs and jewelry estimated then to be worth about $15,000.00. A second search of the apartment by police found a stolen $10,000 stamp collection and a gun as well as items from several other burglaries. Fortunately for Santucci the police failed to get a search warrant before entering the apartment and the charges were dropped. He was arrested again on April 10, 1953 with Louie Zito (Born 1922) while trying to break into a tuxedo shop. A rookie cop, on his way home and out of uniform, arrested the pair and recovered, a torch, electric saw and an automatic weapon. Four days later they were indicted for burglarizing a grocery store and stealing fifty-two cases of coffee. However, the store owner, Joey Perrone, refused to identify the stolen goods as coming from his store and once again the charges were dropped. On May 26, 1959, he was arrested again, with burglar Anthony De Paolo as they left a pawn shop carrying $30,000 in jewelry and cash. The pair had forgotten to turn off the silent alarm.  On Feburary 1, 1960 Santucci was caught by patrolmen as he climbed out of a Kresge’s department store. Police ordered him to halt but Santucci ran for it anyway. He surrendered when the officers unloaded 12 shots in his direction.  

Accardo, John: AKA Johnny. 506 East Orchard street, Arlington. Brother to Tony Accardo, in the 1950’s he was employed by the film projectionist union at $600 a week (A handsome sum) as a projection operator inside the loop.

Atlantic City Conference   In 1927 Atlantic City, New Jersey, was New York's playground, the sands were bleach white and great hotels lined the seemingly endless Boardwalk. The perfect place for the first major Mob conclave in American history.
     The newly married Meyer Lansky was there. It wasn't where he had planned to spend his honeymoon, but his boss and sometime partner Lucky Luciano needed him at the meeting, so ever the loyal corporate man, he was there. Since Meyer and several other members of the party were Jewish, Nucky Johnson, the crime boss of Atlantic City, had reserved rooms for the group in Anglo sounding names, at the exclusive Breakers Hotel, which restricted Jews. That part of the plan worked well, but when a cigar-chopping Al Capone, clad in a purple jacket and white pants and surrounded by a small army of thugs, trumped into the lobby, they were promptly barred from the place. The convoy of limousines drove away from the front of the Breakers to the less constricted, President Hotel.  Nucky Johnson, wearing his ever-present red carnation in his lapel, joined the cavalcade. Capone, who virtually ran Chicago and couldn't understand being barred from anything or anyplace, spotted Johnson and brought the parade to a halt in the middle of the street.   Luciano said, "Nucky and Al had it out right there in the open. Johnson was about a foot taller then Capone and both of them had voices like foghorns. I think you could have heard them in Philadelphia, and there wasn't a decent word passed between them.     "Johnson had a rep for four letter words that wasn't even invented and Capone is screamin' at me that I made bad arrangements. So Nucky picks up Al under one arm and throws him into his car and yells out, 'All you fuckers follow me.'  "They all wound up at the Ritz Hotel, right behind Johnson's own mansion. Capone stormed into the lobby and started ripping pictures off the wall and throwing the mat at Johnson. And that is how our convention got started."   For the first few days of the meeting, there were a round of parties, good food, the best hookers and liquor available. Each morning the delegates would breakfast in their suites, and then drive along the Boardwalk in canopied promenade roller chairs for two pushed by a strapping Black attendant, which prompted Luciano to say, "How the hell could we talk about anything with those niggers breathing down our necks?"  At the end of the Boardwalk, near the suburb of Chelsea, they stepped out of their chairs, rolled up their pants to their knees and waded into the ocean to discuss business. It was here, according to Luciano, that all of the big decisions were made.
     Formal meetings were held in a large conference room, a crystal chandelier dangling above the rich mahogany table, all of it gleaming from the recent polishing.
     Sitting around the table was Owney Madden, Frank Costello, Louis Buchalter, Joe Adonis, Frank Erickson and Dutch Schultz.  From Brooklyn there was Albert Anastasia, Vincent Mangano and Frank Scalise. With Capone was his business manager, Jake Guzak, bodyguard Frankie Rio, Underboss Frank Nitti, and a young thug bodyguard named Tony Accardo.
 During a break in the meeting, Meyer Lansky watched as Accardo returned from the Boardwalk and showed off a tattoo of an eagle that expanded its wings when he closed his fist. He proudly showed it to Capone who remarked, "Kid, you're gonna regret get'n that thing for the rest of your life."   Capone also brought along a heavy set, very tall and distinguished-looking man named Moses Annenberg. Annenberg wasn't a thug, not exactly. He began his career as a lowly circulation booster for the Chicago Tribune and eventually became the paper circulation manager. In 1904, he left the Tribune for William Randolph Hearst's operation, The Examiner, where he headed a small army of goons that included Dion O'Bannion, Bugs Moran, Frankie McErlane, Hymie Weiss, James Ragen, (1420 Lake Shore Drive) Walter Stevens, Tommy Maloy and Mossy Enright.   Their job was to beat up anyone who sold the opposing side's newspapers and the group committed several murders during the bloody circulation wars of 1910-1911.    In 1922, Annenberg borrowed money from mob boss Johnny Torrio to buy the Daily Racing Form, and with profits from that, he purchased other publications, including his own newspaper, the Philadelphia Inquirer. But, Annenberg's main income was from the Nationwide News Service, which provided the results of racetracks across the country, the perfect mechanism for organized crime to control the results of every racetrack in America.  Capone took the floor at the meeting and introduced Annenberg, and pointed out that millions could be made by subscribing to his news service, Nationwide, and turn it into a horse racing announcement service, thereby allowing the mob to control every gambling outlet in America. The bosses listened, they liked what they heard and within a year, Nationwide became the biggest gambler's outlet in the history of the world.
     Capone, only 29 at the time, had another suggestion too. He wanted the various mobs to pool some of their money and jointly support a national discipline squad, a hit squad, who would enforce the syndicate's will. At the time, the bosses shrugged it off, but ten years later, the New York families did get together and financed just the type of thing Capone had been talking about, Murder Incorporated.  Meyer Lansky, the smartest man in the room, liked Capone, for if nothing else, Capone could be likable, charming even. But Meyer's boss Luciano, had a low opinion of Capone. Lucky, always on the lookout for the angle in every sentence, figured Capone was a braggart and a loud mouth who spent too much time trying to position himself within the national syndicate. On the other hand, Capone thought Luciano was an insane killer who was too eager to send a man to his grave during one of his all to frequent temper tantrums.  Lansky's sharp eyes roamed the rest of the massive and regal room, straining to match the names with the faces he was now forgetting. There, sitting just right of Capone and the Chicago boys, was Charlie "King" Solomon, from Boston. Then came Max Hoff, Waxey Gordon, the narcotics king who would one day become his own best customer.   Next to Gordon sat Harry Stromberg, "Nig Rosen," Sam Lazar, Charlie Schwartz from Philadelphia. At the end of the table, seemingly out of place was young Moe Dalitz. It was his first time out of Cleveland, and the first time he had ever seen the ocean.   Next to Dalitz sat Lou Rothkopf and Leo Berkowitz and Abe Bernstein, the leader of the Purple gang out of Detroit. To his right, sat Johnny Lazia, who had come as a representative of Tom Pendergast and his political-criminal organization. The national syndicate would later use the Pendergast contact to work its way into Harry Truman's White House.
     Lansky's eyes caught a familiar face, Longy Zwillman out of New Jersey.   Sitting next to Zwillman at the conference was the always smiling Willie Moretti, then Danny Walsh and Frank Zagarino were there, along with Johnny Torrio. Lansky remembered the old days, back before prohibition, when Luciano was a gofer in Torrio's outfit before Johnny moved out to Chicago to work under his uncle, Big Jim Colosimo.[7] That was in 1907. Twelve years later, Al Capone went west to the Windy City too, but he went to blow Colosimo's brains out of the back of his head with a .32.  "I hate this hellish business of ours," Lansky was fond of saying.  Now, in 1928, Torrio was living in New York and working with Frank Costello.   It was Torrio who had had planned the meeting, so he was the first one to take the floor. "The reason we called this meeting," Torrio said, "is that we have to get organized. Everybody's working on his own, we got independent guys muscling in, and that's got to stop. What we need is a combination around the country, where everybody in charge of his city is the boss, but we all work with each other."   Then he introduced Frank Costello, the Boss in Manhattan under Luciano. Frank stood and made a short speech which was pointed at Capone. "The reason we got to get organized is that we put ourselves on a business basis. We got to stop this sort of thing that's going on in Chicago right now. You guys are shooting at each other in the streets and innocent people are getting killed and they're going to start to squawk. And if they start squawking loud enough, the feds get off their tails and start cracking down, and you know what that means. We got a thing where millions of dollars can be made just getting people what they want.  "When I was on trial three years ago on that whisky deal, all the people were behind me and I was able to stay in business. But if you make people afraid of you, they're going to turn the other way and start yelling at the government to clean us up. That means the internal revenue boys, the FBI, the Narco's and every DA in the country and that ain't worth it.  "From now on, nobody gets killed without the commission saying so. Johnny and I have a little piece of paper we want to show you. We're going to have a national commission with every family represented, twenty-four by our count. No boss will be attacked unless the commission says he has to go… And no button man gets hit without a hearing from his own boss."   It made sense. Costello always made sense. There were nods of approval. Then, Capone took the floor and called for dividing up of the gambling, labor rackets, extortion and drugs businesses between the various gangs and asked the bosses to consider forming a nationally controlled hit squad. He also wanted to form an alliance that would swap prostitutes across state lines and called for more open communications between the New York and Chicago mobs. He also declared that in the future any major dispute would be settled by a conference of the national syndicate leaders, and called for an expansion of the narcotics business, which he suggested would be run out of Cuba, where labor was cheap and the laws were lax.  The bosses agreed to all of Capone's plans. Moe Dalitz took the floor and told the bosses that there should be an end to the cutthroat underbidding on liquor from Canada and Europe. If that happened, he said, prices would drop and they would all make more money.
                                               
Alfredo’s Barber Shop: For decades, Alfredo’s, at 833 North State Street, and was the barber shop of choice of Chicago underworld. The Gold Coast shop was opened in 1958 by Alfredo Fricano, an Italian imminent. Gambler Ken Eto was among the shops questionable clientele. Fricano says. "Once I lost four customers in one day. They had all been shot!"

Acapulco: The Chicago mob had massive investment in various parts of Mexico including ownership pf the Acapulco Towers which it sold at a substantial profit to the Gulf and Western Company in 1971. It’s probable that the Outfit started infiltrating Mexico in the early 1920’s and developed a narcotics route from Mexican ports into the US.

Accardo, Clarice Evelyn Porter: Tony Accardo’s wife, born Clarice Porzadny of polish parents on December 10 1910 in McComb Illinois. She had come to Chicago to get into show business. She met Accardo in 1934, they married in 1935. By all accounts, Accardo was an indulgent and loyal husband, rare in mob circles.
  The couple and their children lived in a sprawling River Forest, Illinois, mansion, at 915 Franklin Street, from 1951 to 1963. The Tudor style 322 room property, 22,000-square-feett, held nine-bedroom, a custom tiled indoor pool, a two-lane bowling alley, a player pipe organ, Mexican onyx baths, a billiard room, an open-air garden on its roof and a social room measuring 40 by 24 feet. Built in 1930 for William Grunow, a millionaire radio pioneer and chicken raiser, for $750,000 to $1 million, Accardo purchased the hoe for $125,000, an enormous amount in 1951 but a real estate bargain. Prior to their move, the Accardo’s lived in an $80,000 house across town at 1431 N. Ashland Avenue. 
   It was here at the new property, that Accardo held his famous lawn parties each July Fourth, opening the property to most of the Outfits members and their wives. The parties were canceled in 1957 when the federal government came more into play in closing down the mob.
    After selling the property in 1963 for about $200,000, or $190,000 below its asking price, Accardo and wife briefly lived in the four-room apartment above the garage before moving in February 1964 to a new, 16-room, 9,500-square-foot ranch, built for $100,000 to $160,000, at 1407 N. Ashland in River Forest. This was the property that a group of five foolish burglars broke into in 1978. All five men were tracked down and tortured to death.  
    In 1979, the Accardo’s lived in a condo in River Forest at 1417 Bonnie Brae Lane and later at 1020 N. Harlem Avenue before retiring to spend winters in Palm Springs, California. After her husband died, Clarice Accardo sold the Palm Springs condo for $170,000.   Tony Accardo’s last home was a on the 22.7-acre Barrington Hills estate called Willowgate, owned by his son-in-law, Ernest Kumerow, a union president.

Accardo, Joseph Frank: Boss Tony Accardo’s youngest son, a graduate of Valley Forge Military Academy. Accardo arranged, through Congressman Ronald Libonati, for the young Accardo to be accepted in to West Point in 1964. In April of 1970 Tony Accardo was indicted after the AFT searched his house and found a pistol which they said was not properly registered. Accardo said it was part of a collection that he had given his son. In a week long trial, 26-year-old Joseph swore that the gun collection was his and that his father had given to him for his 21 birthday. It took the jury less then 20 minutes to find him innocent. 

Accardo, Judith: (Born 1940) Tony Accardo’s daughter, she married William Palmer Pyle (Born 1938) a former college tackles, on May 23 1960. They would live at 901 Maple Ave. in Evanston. They met while attending Michigan U.  

Accardo, Linda Lee: (Linda Lee Palermo) Born 1941. Accardo’s daughter. In 1960, she had married Mike Anthony  Palermo (Born 1939) the son of the plumber whose father installed the golden bathroom fixtures in Accardo’s home. He was then in the army, station at Fort Riley Kansas. Her wedding was  held on April 27 1961, 1000 guest from all over the country were expected for the bash. Nick Civello of Kansas City  attended as did Murray Humpreys, labor leader John Lardino, Joey Glimco, Joey Aiuppa, Joe DeVarco, Jackie Cerone, Rocco DeGrazio, Teets Battaglia, Marshal Caifano, Milwaukee Phil and Obbie Frabotta, all of whom covered their faces with handkerchiefs from police detectives who were at the gates.   In total 200 attended the wedding at St Luke’s church and the party at the Villa Venice near wheeling where they dined on Venetian tarts, beef and chicken in strawberry sauce and a 7 foot tall wedding cake. In total the wedding cost Accardo $25,000. The IRS later investigated to see where the envelopes of cash to the bride actually went and of the cash was in line with the givers income (estimated to be 25k)

Accardo, Ross: (Anthony) Born 1933. One of Tony Accardo’s sons. On June 21, 1954, he and his mother went on a world wide tour as a present for graduating from Western University. The young man was known to drive around Chicago in a fire engine red sports car (License plate 915-002) and was also known as a big spender in the Vegas casinos.  He joined the film projectionist union,  local 110, ten under Clarence Jalas who was considered a mob dupe.[8] Ross started as a $150 a week projectionist at the Mercury Theater 7230 West North Street in Elmwood Park, less then a mile from the Accardo home where he still lived. In 1982 he won one million dollars in the Illinois State Lottery. Questioned whether he or others had forced the winning ticket from the real winner to cover up illegal income, he denied it.

Ackley, Nona: In July of 1948 a women named Nona Ackley opened a respectable restaurant at 3031 North Greenview Avenue. She complained to the police about the gambling den, actually little more than a garage (Known as Weber’s playhouse) owned by State Representative Charles H. Weber, in back of her establishment, claiming that dozens of men would go into the alley and urinate on her wall and the smell was overpowering. The Police did nothing. She complained once too many times and the city tried  closed down her restaurant for one reason after another. Carmen Jordon, a democratic captain in the 5th precinct 31st ward was made a temporary food inspector and ordered her to report to the health department for a hearing. When she arrived, the department didn’t know anything about her or Jordon.
 Ackley said “I don’t know why their picking one me I never complained to the police I simply asked the lookout men to please tell the horse betters to quit committing a nuisance right behind my place. They were doing it in broad daylight and the neighbors saw them and saw did their children”
   Unfortunately for Weber, Oakly’s story made the newspapers and the tables were turned on the politician. First reporters investigated Weber’s claim that his brother Clarence lived in the garage and that it was a legal residence. However, it turned out that
his brother was actually an inmate in the Kankakee state mental asylum and had been there, off and on, for decades. In July, an army of city inspectors visited Weber’s gas station  and dairy store And cited him for, among many other things, a dirty ceiling and chipped paint. Weber got the message and backed off.  As for Ackley, she eventually gave up the business and moved to rural Wisconsin where she opened a successful motel.

Abate Joseph: Union official active in the 1990s. On January 29, 1999, Abate, who earned a salary of $90,000 as a Laborers Union Executive, was found guilty of running a sports betting ring that brought him up to $12,000 a week after police raided his home in March of 1998 and seized $200,000 in bets. He was sentenced to two years felony probation and fined one thousand dollars.
   Abate joined the Laborers local 225 in Des Plains Illinois in 1987 and held positions of  Business Agent and Recording Secretary. He was eventually elected President of the local in 1995. Working with Abate was John Galioto.  Jenell Totani an office secretary at Local 225 was romantically involved with John Galioto, the former Business Manager of Local 225 under Abates presidency. Totani, was actually lived with Totani, testified later that at least 20 men, including Abate, gathered in Galioto's basement on Monday nights and left a half hour later with envelopes containing money. She also claimed that after Abate’s house was raided, that Galioto asked her to rush over to their home and remove or destroy the gambling equipment stored there.
  Guy Drehoble, a bookmaker and friend of Totani’s was hired on at the local as a steward although he had no prior experience and wasn’t sure what the union represented. In return for the job, Drehoble was to act as Galioto and Abate’s on-the-scene bookmaker and collector. According to Drehoble, Abate answered Galioto.
   An Inspector performed an audit of Local 225 books and found that Abate charged excessive amounts of money to the Union for meals which were not related to legitimate union business. In the first four months of 1997, Abate ate at restaurants at which he charged the meals to the union 85 times, a total of $3,504 to the union for the meals, an average of $900 per month.

Abatte, Frank Abatte (Sometimes spelled Abate) was Chicago boss in Calumet City. He lived peacefully at 672 Douglas Avenue in Calumet with his daughters and wife.  Abatte had been in the sugar rationing business during the Second World War and then went on to supervising the Oak Lawn racing track where he also kept thoroughbred horses. The word was that he had fallen behind on his taxes and was talking to government, trying to work a deal for himself. To stay out of prison. He was shot in the face, his nude body dumped on the side of a road in Hot Springs Arkansas April 22 1944.  A few days later his men Tommy Neglia and Onofrio Vitale were also killed. Vitale was found face down in a sewer; Neglia was gunned down while getting his hair cut in a barber shop

Abbinanti Robert AKA Bobby Bookmaker and once active in Teamsters Local 726 and identified by the Chicago Crime Commission as a member of the mob. Officially, Abbinanti, an amateur boxer and body builder, was a teamster truck driver for the City of Chicago Streets and Sanitation Department. He was also part of a crew that included Anthony Dote, Carl R. Dote; Roland “Ricky” Borelli, Frank “Frankenstein” Maranto, Robert “Hippo” Scutkowski, Frank “Gunner” Catapano and William “Louie” Tenuta.  He is also related to alleged hoodlum Marco D’Amico (His brother is married to Marco’s daughter) At one time, Abbinanti managed Marco’s III, a hot-dog stand located at Fullerton & Austin. He was also a co-precinct captain for the 36th Ward Regular Democratic Organization on the Northwest Side in 1983.
   In the summer of 1989, Mob lawyer Robert Cooley tipped gangster Marco D’Amico
to a high stakes card game to be played outside of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, where the “take” could reach as high as $1 million dollars. Damico, who led a crew of extortionist, armed robbers, and bookmakers, called Abbinanti and told him to collect shotguns and a .22 caliber handgun equipped with a silencer and rob the game.  Cooley, as one of the participants in the robbery set up would receive a 20% cut of the take. The game was called off when a lookout posted outside the meeting place waved them off because the local police were cruising the area. Unknown to the robbers, someone, probably Cooley had tipped off the FBI about the robbery and were waiting in the poker room armed to the teeth and waiting for Abbinanti to crash into the room.
  Abbinanti, who was once active in Laborers local 726, was arrested for the attempted robbery anyway, and pled guilty after Cooley testified against him. 

A & W Electric: A company in Summit, Illinois, outside Chicago, that was operated by two brothers,  Pete and Bill Altiere and their partner, Bill White. In the early 1960s the company supplied slot machines and gambling paraphernalia to the mob, while it worked under the guise of an electrical shop. It was at A&W that future mob informant Mike Corbitt got his start, as a driver for he company.

Aiello Joey Born 1891 Died October 23, 1930. Boss of the Sicilian Mafia in Prohibition-Era Chicago. As the recognized leader Sicilian underworld in Chicago, Aiello and his brothers were the heirs to the Genna organization and controlled much the organized crime in Little Sicily, including its home liquor-making business. Capone wanted all of the liquor making operation for his own. Possibly acting with the approval of Frankie Yale (Uale) and the national Unione, Aiello allied with Bugs Moran to take on Capone.
Aiello was killed by Capone's mob on October 23, 1930.

Airplane Inn (Aeroplane) 1900 Lake Street, A Southside gambling den of note in the 1930s-1940s  Owned by Black gambler and political boss Big Jim Martin. He also owned another saloon at 2421 Lake street with Black gamblers Ruby and John Gatewood.

Alderisio Felix  AKA "Milwaukee Phil" Born  in Yonkers New York in 1912 Died September 25, 1971. Spent his childhood in Chicago and his teen years Milwaukee. His nickname came from his fight name
   Aldersio was an enforcer and hitman for the Chicago Outfit, serving as an Underboss to Sam Giancana during the 1960s. It was Giancana who had sponsored him into the Outfit some time in the late 1950s.  He was arrested a total of 36 times since 1926 (Under his own name) on charges ranging from assault and battery, bombing, racketeering, loansharking, illegal gambling, hijacking, narcotics, counterfeiting, bootlegging, bribery, extortion, and murder for hire.
   Alderisio began his criminal career while in his teens working for the Capone organization during Prohibition as a gofer and messenger and was eventually brought into the organization as a hood by his cousin, Cockeyed Louis Fratto during the early 1930s. His first assignments appear to have been as an enforcer for Sam Battaglia and Marshall Caifano, two former members of the famed 42 Gang who were quickly making their up  the organization during Frank Nitti’s reign. Working with them was a very young Sam Giancana.   In 1933, he was arrested in Wheaton Wisconsin for car theft, and arrested again in 1936 for moonshining. By the 1940s, Aldersio was working for Jake Guzak, the mob pay-off and bribery expert.
   On May 10, 1954 Milwaukee Phil was sought for question in the March 1954 murder of a liquor distributor John Di Trapani whom apparently had tried to murder several mob connected slot machine operators. Di Trapani, who was being investigated by the IRS, claimed for weeks that the Chicago mob was out to kill him. And they did. He was shot dead and left in the streets of Milwaukee. Arrested and questioned in connection to the killing, aside from Aldersio, were James Adduci, Ned Bakes (A one time Illinois state representative) Peter Granta who claimed to be an undertaker from Chicago and Dominci Volpe, also of Chicago. 
  On November 6, 1963, he was indicted for traveling across state lines to commit extortion in relation to the 1962 beating of James Eagan in Denver and for threatening to rape and murder Eagan’s daughter. Remarkably, he made the threats by mail. On Feburary 5, 1964. Aldersio was arrested by federal agents in the lobby of an apartment building at 288 Randolf street while in the company of known narcotics peddler Americo Depietto (Born 1916). Both Aldersio and Depietto were accused of threatening Robert Sunshine, a disbarred federal lawyer.  The threats were made by phone, which, unfortunately for Aldersio, were being monitored by the FBI. Also locked up in the extortion scam against Sunshine (Who owned a guest house on 2939 Mannheim Road which mysteriously burned to the ground in 1963) were Ruby Kolad and Willie Israel, both employed by the Desert Inn in Las Vegas.
   By the 1950’s, Alderisio and Charlie Nicoletti were the mobs killers of choice. In one incident, in the 1960s, Alderisio and Nicoletti were arrested as they sat parked in what police later referred to as a "hit mobile" because the car had been modified with secret compartments for weapons and advanced lighting switches to throw off a police tail. When questioned as to why they were dressed in black and threw themselves on the car floor when a patrol cruiser, the killers claimed that they were “Waiting for a friend” whose name they had forgotten. They were released without charges.
   For income, in the 1960s, Alderisio led a small but highly efficient group of cat burglars who operated in the upscale area of Chicago's "Gold Coast", Alderisio own neighborhood,  stealing rare gems and jewelry which would be fenced to syndicate controlled jewelry stores and wholesalers. During the 1950s and 60s, the crew was also responsible for picking up payoffs from North Side restaurants and nightclubs and independent bookmaking operations and making sure the payments were handed directly to Gus Alex. The Justice Department suspected that Alderisio, a frequent traveler to Turkey and Sicily, was a major narcotics dealer although it appears they were wrong. He was simply an avid traveler and amateur photographer.
   Alderisio also a ran a series of highly successful legitimate business including several fine restaurants, meat packing firms, small hotels and Rush Street nightclubs as well as operating bordellos and striptease parlors in Chicago's vice districts. He is said to have owned enormous stock shares in several international firms as did Teets Battaglia.
 During the McClellan Committee, he pled the Fifth Amendment 23 times in 45 minutes. All that accomplished was to center more attention on the hood from the US Justice Department which indicted and eventually jailed him for extortion. An F.B.I. document describes a meeting in which Alderisio and his lawyer, Edward Bennett Williams "reportedly informed" his client, "that he had an excellent contact with the Justice Department and felt that they could get to the recently appointed Supreme Court Justice,"
The recently appointed judge was Thurgood Marshall and he did vote with the majority in 1969 to overturn Alderisio's conviction. It didn’t matter. Alderisio died form natural causes (A heart attack while walking in the prison yard) while at the United States Penitentiary at Marion, Illinois on September 25, 1971.
   On October 21, right after Aldersio died, Sam Cesario, AKA Sambo, born 1918, was shot to death. He was gunned down as he sat in front of 1074 West Polk where he was living with Nan Partipilo (Who was related to the Meo Brothers) He had married her four month before. Partipilo had dated Aldersio but broke it off after he entered prison.
  A massive turnout was expected for his funeral but with so many Chicago hoods indictments at that time, few people turned out except for Chuckie English and Joe Gagliano, Dominick Debella, and Irv Weiner  “Milwaukee Phil was not very popular he killed all his good friends” a cop said.  In 1970 the IRS filed an $8 million tax lien on his estate, most of which went to his cousin,  Patty Ricciardi.

Abata Dominic: Cousin of Rocco Belcastro, the king of the bombers. In the late 1950s he was active in the cab drivers union with Joey Glimco

Aiuppa Joseph John AKA Doves Joey O’Brien Born December 1, 1907 Died February 22, 1997.  An amateur boxer who fought his way out of Chicago's Maxwell Street ghetto. Auippa started with the outfit under Frank Nitti in the 1930s, although he may have been a fringe player even before that, since Aiuppa claimed repeatedly that he was a hired gun for the Capone organization and acted as one of Capone’s many bodyguards and then moved into protection for Capone’s bootlegging, gambling and prostitution rackets. He had one arrest in all that time, for suspicion of robbery in 1935.
   Aiuppa rose through the ranks to become boss of Cicero bookies, and was later brought in to run one of the mob's biggest gambling joints and night clubs in Cicero, the 4811 Club. He was jailed in 1952 for his complete lack of cooperation the U.S. Senate's Kefauver Committee investigating organizing crime. The committee sentenced him to six months in jail and fined $1,000 for refusing to answer questions put to him by the committee. In 1957, he was jailed for a year when he and a business partner failed to register with the government as dealers in gambling devices.
   In 1976, Aiuppa, then 69-years-old made the top of the Chicago Crime Commission’s chart as the boss of Chicago's Mob. Aiuppa, a widower with no children, he lived alone on a five-acre suburban lot. By then he was an avid hunter who made yearly trips to the Canadian backwoods to pursue his hobby.   He picked up the nick name "Joey Doves" (It was largely used only in the press) after he was arrested transporting mourning doves unlawfully across state lines on October. 2, 1962. Wild life agents found the fowl, 563 of them, dressed and stuffed in the gangster’s freezer. Aiuppa was proud of the fact that he and several of his men had killed the doves during a Kansas hunting trip by using shotguns and automatic revolvers to shoot the birds off of power lines. Aiuppa was later convicted of illegal possession and transportation of the doves and sentenced to three months in jail. The conviction was overturned by the U.S. Court of Appeals.
    By 1971 Aiuppa was a power in the mob and is widely considered to have ordered the deaths of both Sam Giancana in June of 1975 and Tony Spilotro in 1986. Auippa is thought to have ordered the murder Giancana in June in retaliation to Giancana's refusal to grant Aiuppa and Accardo a percentage of the proceeds from an illegal gambling ship operation in Mexico. It is more likely that Giancana was killed because he had made remarks about not serving another day in jail, or what the bosses thought sounded like Giancana’s willingness to flip to the Governments side.
  In June of 1985, Aiuppa and 40 gangsters were subpoenaed to testify before the President's Commission on Organized Crime which was looking into the Chicago Outfits massive gambling operations which was estimated to be about $40 million a month in wagers, most of it from sporting and horse racing events.
    In 1986, Auippa, his underboss Jackie Cerone and several other mobsters from Chicago and Kansas City were indicted for skimming millions from the Las Vegas casinos. As soon as the indictments were released, street taxes paid by bookmakers, gambling houses burglars and robbers to operate in the Chicago area and Las Vegas were increased from 15 to 25% to make up for the loss of income to the Chicago Outfit by the Las Vegas losses. Mob's extortionists raised the "fear fees," or money paid for protection, and loan sharks were levied with a surtax of sorts by the Outfit. Not everyone abided by the increase as the violent deaths of Chuckie English, Lenny Yaras and Hal C. Smith, within five weeks, showed.
  On January 10 1985, Lenny Yaras, the son of legendary hoodlum Dave Yaras was murdered as he made his usual rounds collecting street tax from bookies in the Rogers Park neighborhood, the same area his father had worked in fifty years before.
It came out later that although Lenny Yaras was known principally as a street tax collector from bookmakers and other gambling operators in Rogers Park and in the northern suburbs, he may also have been active in the narcotics trade, with or without the mobs permission. His father was considered a major narcotics importer in the late 1940s.
  Yaras pulled his car up to 4224 West Division Street and stepped intoA-1 Industrial Uniforms Company, which was actually a large laundry shop. Yaras claimed his mainline of work was a consultant to A-1 Industrial Uniforms.  He came back out at 10 a.m. and entered his late-model Oldsmobile on the north side of Division Street. As soon as he shut the door, a tan Chevrolet swung in front of his auto, preventing it from going forward. Two men wearing ski masks got out, and one opened the driver's side door of Yaras' car. The men shot Yaras four times in the face and once in the throat. Yaras fell toward the passenger seat and was shot two more times, once in each leg. Some bullets missed or went through him and broke the passenger-side window. Yaras slumped down on a bundle of files and a calendar and died. The gunmen got back in the Chevrolet, driven by a third man also in a ski mask, and drove away. The car and license plates had been stolen earlier in the day Thursday from the suburb of Burbank. It was found a short time later found burning in an alley near North and Latrobe Avenues, about a mile northwest of the shooting. Witnesses told police they saw four men get into another car and speed away.
  Police searched Yaras office inside the laundry and found his appointment books for 1982, 1983 and 1985, but the 1984 book was missing. Yaras, born in 1941 when his father was at the top of his game in the Underworld, lived in a condo at 6400 N. Cicero Avenue in Lincolnwood Illinois, was a business partner with mobster Joe DiVarco. An hour before Yaras was killed, DiVarco, who was on trial for tax evasion and gambling charges, was ordered into federal custody as a danger to the community under a law that  prosecutors can ask that defendants be jailed immediately after conviction upon a showing that they pose a danger to the community, even if they have posted bail.
   Yaras was once regarded as a lieutenant to DiVarco but had moved up in recent years before his murder and operated on about the same level as DiVarco. While Yaras was the recognized gambling boss in the Rogers Park and north suburban areas, DiVarco ran mob gambling in the Near North Side nightclub area, including Rush Street.
   Police suspected that Yaras had secretly provided information that convicted DiVarco. But federal investigators close to the DiVarco case insisted Yaras had nothing to do with it.
  On April 18, 1974, Yaras brother Ronnie (Born 1938) a massage palor operator in Miami Beach was shot dead by persons unknown n his house. Three months before, their father, Dave Yaras, suffered a heart attack while playing golf and died in Miami.
   Yaras was probably the getaway driver in the January 20, 1983 murder of Allen Dorfman and may have been threatening the Outfit with telling what he knew or was killed simply because the Dorfman murder could be used in the case against Aiuppa and Cerone. The actual shooter in the Dorfman killing was said to have died of a drug overdose several months before in Florida. Police suspected he was murdered. 
   Another theory was that Italian-American faction of the Outfit no longer wanted to work through Yaras, a Jew, to collect street taxes from Jewish bookmakers on the North Side and told Yaras to step aside but he refused. That theory was doubtful since the mob had always worked peacefully with virtually any ethnic group in as long as they delivered the money they were assigned to deliver.
   The murder was apparently inspired by Joe Ferriola who was racing towards the Outfit leadership and felt that the aging hoods before had to go. A Mob informant told the Chicago Crime Commission that Ferriola said, "Things are coming apart in Chicago and something has to be done about it."
   Always paranoid, it was Ferriola’s belief that bookies and collectors were working together to hold out on delivering the correct street tax and that Yaras was the most blatant of the group. 
  David "Red" O'Malley, who was serving a 10-year sentence at the federal Metropolitan Correctional Center for an unrelated extortion conviction in May of 1985, was arrested and eventually acquitted in the Yaras murder, largely because the judge found to many   
inconsistencies in the prosecution witnesses who placed O'Malley at the scene of the slaying. The witness gave different accounts about the type of masks the killer was wearing And the color of the clothes he had on. Another witness testified that he had seen O'Malley drive away from the alley where the stolen Chevrolet had been found burned. But in the court room, when asked to identify the man he had seen leaving the alley, he couldn’t spot O'Malley, who sat at the defendant's table, five feet away. When asked a second time, he identified O'Malley but seemed to do it reluctantly. Another witness, a self-employed roofer, changed his testimony in mid stream and told the court he could identify O'Malley as the assailant because the assailant had been wearing a mask made of thin plastic that only partly concealed his face and then failed to identify O’Malley in court.
   On Feburary 10, 1985, just a month after Yara was killed, the body of gambler Hal C. Smith (Born 1937) was found in the trunk of his car in suburban Arlington Heights, Ill. He had been brutally beaten, and his throat was cut. Rumors were that he had simply stopped paying his street tax as a way of protesting the increase placed on him to defray the cost of Aiuppa’s upcoming trial.
  A prominent independent suburban bookmaker, Smith’s mangled body was found in the trunk of his champagne- colored Cadillac. He had been beaten, stabbed and strangled. (He died from strangulation.) He had vanished two nights before, telling his wife he was going to meet Outfit gambler Bill Jahoda in the Village Tavern restaurant in Long Grove. The site where Smith’s body was found, on the Elmwood Park side of Harlem Avenue, bordering Chicago, was unusual since most of the Outfits leaders lived near the area and preferred to keep crime out of the area. To make sure that was understood, in 1962 hoodlums Jimmy Miraglia and Bill McCarthy, both 22, inadvertently chased two men and a woman into Elmwood Park and killed them there. Both were later tortured and murdered by Outfit killers as a lesson to keep heavy crime away from where the bosses lived. Called the M and M murders, the boys were killed probably by Tony Spilotro (a finger and palm print were found on the murder sites that belonged to him)  McCarthy was captured off the streets first and tortured (His head was placed in a vise) until he gave up Miraglia. Afterwards his throat was slashed. Miraglia was found beaten so badly his throat box was crushed.
   In 1995, a full ten years after Smith was murdered, Robert Salerno, a one time boxer and Outfit slugger, Rocky Infelice, Robert Bellavia and Salvatore DeLaurentis were convicted of conspiring to murder Smith.
   It was a bizarre trial, even by Chicago standard.  Salerno was represented by his son,   defense lawyer Alexander Salerno said he was proud to introduce the defendant, "my father" at which point Salerno stood up at the defense table, bowed and said "Pleased to meet you, ladies and gentlemen."
"I wanted to help him not because he's my father” The younger Salerno told the court
“but because he's always helped me. I probably know him better than anyone in the world. I don't believe he killed anyone. He's always taught me to obey the law."
   "I'm not an angel, but I did not kill this man," Salerno told the court
    The key government witness was Bill Jahoda, the former newspaper man turned gambler turned mob informer. Jahoda said that not only had Smith refused to pay his $6,000 a month in street tax, he had fallen into a loud argument with mobster Salvatore Dé Laurentis in a suburban restaurant. Afterwards, Dé Laurentis waited for Smith in the parking lot and screamed at him “You, my friend, are trunk music."
   He told the court that he lured Smith to his home in suburban Long Grove Illinois on orders from crew chief Rocky Infelice.  Jahoda said he didn’t know the Smith was marked for death, "But I knew it was a serious meeting.”
    Jahoda directed Smith to drive his car into the garage attached to Jahoda's home, and then directed Smith into his kitchen. He said that Rocco Infelice told him to make sure
Smith entered the house alone. So Jahoda headed toward the curb on the pretense of picking up his mail.
   Jahoda said he left the house and when he looked through a window outside his house, he saw Salerno, dressed in black, come up from behind Smith as he entered the kitchen. Later he said he saw that Smith had been knocked to the floor and dazed. The killers had slashed his throat, repeatedly punctured his body with a knife and then strangled him.
  At the prosecutor’s instruction during his testimony, Jahoda placed toy figures inside a model of his home to illustrate to jurors where Smith, Salerno and the others were in the kitchen when he peered inside. Jurors then walked past the model to get a closer look.
    Four years after the murder, Jahoda began working undercover for the government. In one taped meeting with Robert Bellavia, who was also in the house when Smith was killed, Jahoda asked if Smith made it out of his kitchen alive. "No, that was it, right there. Out," Bellavia responded.
   The prosecutor told the court "It was, in a word, sadistic, and it was meant to send a message.  For the defendant and others, this was strictly business, and unfortunately, it was business as usual."
   "I don't know why he put me there," Salerno said of Jahoda. "I fit the description, I fit the nationality."
    Three days after Smith was found dead, on Feburary 13, 1985, Chuckie English, (Born 1915 as Charles Inglesia) a one time Capo under Sam Giancana was gunned down as he walked to his car in the parking lot of Horvath's restaurant, 1850 N. Harlem Ave., Elmwood Park.
   Under Giancana, English was the Outfits boss of jukeboxes, gambling, counterfeit music recordings, coin-operated vending machines, gambling and juice loans on the West Side in the 1950s, 1960s and early 1970s. He had once owned Lormar Distributing Company, which sold phonograph records and tape decks but was largely a front
for the collection of juice loans from gamblers. When, in 1950, English was called before the U.S. Senate Rackets Investigating Committee concerning the jukebox industry, then heavily influenced by the mob, he repeatedly took the 5th Amendment.
  Three years after Giancana's death, English was reported to be semi-retired, spending winters in the Hallandale, Fla., area, golfing and deep- sea fishing. During the summer and fall he ran small card games in Elmwood Park. Otherwise he lived quietly in a 10-room, two-story, Mediterranean-style home, with a swimming pool at 1131 N. Lathrop Avenue in River Forest. When English bought the home in the 1960s, a real estate agent remembered, he put down $5,000 as earnest money, and said: "There is a lot more where that came from." He then peeled off more bills from several other large wads of money, the real estate agent recalled.
The rumors about why the 70 year old English was murder on the eve of St. Valentines Day were rampant. Some said it was because he was trying to expand his gambling rackets which is doubtful. Others claimed that a group of young turks within the organization ha gotten permission to take him out and take over his operations. Perhaps Ferriola himself ordered the murder or, as others speculated, the imprisoned Joey Lombardo because English was too quick to turn his street tax over to Ferriola who was obviously pushing his way to the top of the organization. But Ferriola’s dislike of English was legendary.
   Chicago police noted that English had fallen out with the acting boss Joe Ferriola when they followed him to Bruno’s, a gasoline station frequented by the Outfit which was across the street from the Elmwood Park restaurant where English was gunned down. Detectives who were tailing Ferriola recalled "There apparently was a very cold relationship between English and Joe Ferriola, who likes to take over everything. English was there. So were other regulars, among them Dominic Cortina, Don Angelini and George Colucci. Ferriola shows up and here's what he did: He walked right past English. Didn't look at him at all. Goes right into the gas station like English wasn't there. That meant a lot to me. It showed who was strong and who wasn't. English stood around a while alone. Then he walked away, got in his Cadillac and left. The boys weren't talking to him."
  Patrick Healy, then the executive director of the Chicago Crime Commission, said, "This killing is out of character, sort of a mystery. He hasn't been in the mainstream of gambling activities, and that's what's been getting all the attention lately."
   English was a prime suspect in the 1975 murder of his old boss Sam Giancana in the basement of Giancana's Oak Park home. Conversely, there was another argument that claimed English was exiled because he had refused to set Giancana up for the killing, although it is almost a certainty that he either killed Giancana himself or directly assisted in the murder. 
 Investigators said it appeared that English had been trying to organize some independent bookies under his supervision and may have patched up, or was trying to patch up,  differences with Joseph Ferriola, who has been in charge of gambling for the mob. Ferriola, the cops said, had forced English to leave town right after Giancana was killed.
It was common knowledge that English had been telling his friends that he, rather than Ferriola, should have been put in charge of suburban gambling.
  English arrived at Horwath’s restaurant in suburban Elmwood Illinois, at about 3:00 AM.  Horwath's was firebombed bombed on May 4 and August 8, 1982, for reasons that never known. (It was closed and demolished in 2004 and is now a Staples Supply store) That afternoon at 3:30 PM, the restaurants owner, Charles Roumeliotis, served a roast pig for regular customers and had invited English to drop by to eat. Sharing the table with him were 13 other guests including two Cook County judges, Louis J. Hyde and Benjamin DiGiacomo as well as the village trustees Donald Storino and Louis DiMenna. Sitting with them was labor thug John Lardino. It was his birthday.  English was a former client of DiGiacomo’s when he DiGiacomo was a lawyer in private practice. At about 6:00 PM, English stood, patted his stomach, hitched up his belt, waved goodbye and walked toward his white Cadillac De Ville coupe.
   English left at about the same time as two other men, one of whom paid English's check, although they weren’t sitting at the table with him. One of the men, described as elderly and slumped, walked out with English but went to another car.
   As he reached for the car door, which was parked less then fifty feet from the restaurant, two men wearing ski masks pumped five shots into his body, one hitting him between his eyes, the forehead, nose, left eyebrow and right cheek, and once in the back, below the right shoulder.
   Two men, the killers, were in the parking lot waiting for him. Police impounded a car that witnesses said the killers were leaning on before the shooting.   The killers left on foot and no shell casings were found on the scene, although several shots reportedly were fired, leading police to theorize that the murder weapon was a revolver, which does not eject casings. The government suspected that the gun or the silencer used in the killing was provided by Hans Bachoefer of Elk Grove Village who had a long history of dealing weapons.
  Aiuppa’s skimming trial began September 23, almost two years to the day after the indictment against Aiuppa and the others was returned, although the hoods defense team had tried to delay the trial even longer, arguing that they needed additional time to study more than 4,000 hours of FBI surveillance tapes made from bugged telephones and hidden microphones during the four-year investigation. During those four years, the FBI followed money couriers from Las Vegas to meetings with mobsters in parking lots near Aiuppa's home in Oak Brook.
  During the trial, other defendants and their attorneys treated Aiuppa with apparent respect and although he listened closely to testimony of mob informant witnesses, he more than often dozed off to sleep especially when FBI agents wee on the stand.
   Allan Ackerman, Aiuppa's attorney later told the appeals court that government lawyers used details supplied by an unnamed informant to obtain the conspiracy indictment against the defendants and that defense didn’t learn the identity of the informant until after the trial.  "Now, we're told there was” Ackerman later argued “and we find this crucial and devastating. This is the only witness in the entire case who testified that he physically put money in anyone's hands. We would have the right to investigate him, then question him before the jury." Assistant U.S. Attorney. Frank Marine replied "We have never publicly disclosed the name of the informant because of fears that he would be killed," Marine said. "There was definitely a concern for his safety."  The informant was Carl Thomas, a Las Vegas casino owner, who testified that he took $80,000 in cash from a casino counting room and gave it to a Chicago mob emissary. He also told the jury that the skimming of gambling profits took place in five Las Vegas casinos that received millions of dollars in loans from the Teamsters Union pension fund in the 1970s. Thomas had been convicted earlier for his role in a scheme with Kansas City mobsters to skim from another Las Vegas casino, and he received a 15-year prison sentence. He also was indicted in the Stardust conspiracy, but charges were later dropped and his previous conviction was reduced to time served and probation.
  Among the key witnesses for the government was Glick, who purchased the Stardust hotel-casino in the fall of 1974 with a $62.7 million loan from the Teamsters Union pension fund. Glick testified that when he first inquired about a loan from the Chicago-based fund, he was told by a former official that "the man to see" was Frank Balestrieri, the boss of the Milwaukee Mob. He said that in early 1975, he learned that Nick Civella, then Kansas City's mob boss had also helped obtain the loan through his friendship with Roy Williams, then a Teamster trustee and later the union president. After Glick assumed control of the casino, Glick said he was threatened by Frank Rosenthal, a Chicago mob associate who ran the gambling operation at the Stardust and that Rosenthal
ordered him to stay away from the casino and its day-to-day operations. Wiretaps backed up his story and showed that the Chicago mob hired and fired employees at the casino at will. On one tape, Las Vegas hood Tony Spilotro was heard on two tapes giving instructions to a hotel official to hire a friend. After Spilotro warned the hotel official that his friend had no casino experience, the official said, "That's all right. I'll put him on the graveyard shift at $22 or $23 ($22,000 or $23,000 a year)." On other tapes Spilotro was overheard calling hotel employees to give them names of those he wanted to receive free rooms, meals, drinks and floor show tickets at the Stardust. The microphones for the tape recorder was hidden inside the Gold Rush jewelry store, which Spilotro owned.
Glick was eventually forced to sell his interest in the casino by the state of Nevada.
   Teamster President Roy Williams also testified for the government on hopes that
His testimony would get him a reduction in his 10- year prison sentence for his conviction in a bribery conspiracy case. It didn’t.
   One time Cleveland Mob boss Angelo Lonardo, already in prison on narcotics charges
Also testified for the government. His testimony implicated Rockman, his brother-in-law, in the conspiracy.
  In 1981, Jackie Cerone and Joseph Aiuppa[9] and Angelo Lonardo and Milton Rockman from the Cleveland mob met in a hotel room to discuss who to name as the new president of the Teamster union. Frank Fitzsimmons, the union president, was near death from lung cancer, and a struggle was underway to find his successor. Cleveland wanted the job to go to Roy Williams, an international vice president. As part of the deal, Williams would name Jackie Presser, a vice president from Cleveland, to a powerful union post. But
Aiuppa and Cerone had their doubts about Presser, however the Cleveland hoods convinced them to give Williams and Presser a try if only because they could be easily controlled.    Aiuppa and Cerone objected to Presser because they felt they could not trust him. "They also felt that no one could talk to Jackie Presser and be able to get him to do what they wanted," he said. "Rockman told them not to worry about Presser, as Rockman could control Presser." But a day later, Rockman got a message that Chicago would support Williams. They were also right in not trusting Presser who had been informant for the federal government for more than a decade.
  On May 6, 1981, Frank Fitzsimmons died. Nine days later, the Teamsters executive board met in Las Vegas and elected Williams president. New Jersey Mafia boss Anthony Provenzano, a Teamster official, made the motion to elect Williams, and Presser seconded it.
   A week after his election, Williams was indicted by a federal grand jury in Chicago on charges of attempting to bribe then-U.S. Sen. Howard Cannon (D., Nev.). Indicted with him was Chicago’s point man in the Teamsters, Allen Dorfman.  Presser provided the FBI with critical information that helped indict and ultimately convict Williams in late 1982. In 1983, after Williams was forced to resign as Teamsters president because of the felony conviction, Lonardo said he met Cerone again and told him the Cleveland mob wanted Presser to replace Williams.
"Cerone still felt Ray was as good as Presser, but Cerone indicated that Chicago would go along with Cleveland and support Presser," Lonardo told the jury. So Jackie Presser was elected Teamsters president on April 20, 1983, after an intense lobbying effort in which he stressed the need to improve the union's image as a haven for mobsters.
   Former Los Angeles Boss Aladena “Jimmy the Weasel” Fratianno took the stand at the trial for the government and said that in 1974, when Presser was still a lower ranking Teamster official in Ohio, he sent word to the Chicago Outfit that he was available to do them favors. Fratianno then recalled a 1974 meeting in a Chicago restaurant, when he
told Joseph Aiuppa that "if you need anything from Jackie Presser, he said he'll do it for you."  Fratianno had just returned from Cleveland at the time, where he had met with Presser to get approval to set up a union dental program in Warren, Ohio, with Allen Dorfman. "Aiuppa told me he didn't like Presser and that if he had any Teamster business, he would do it through Nick Civella in Kansas City and Roy Williams,"
  At another meeting in Chicago, Fratianno said, he was told in 1976 by both Aiuppa and Cerone that "they didn't want anything happening in Las Vegas." He testified further that Aiuppa told him, "We have interests in casinos there, particularly the Stardust."
Fratianno said he had to follow certain protocol whenever he wanted to see Presser. "I was told I had to go through Milton Rockman," Fratianno told the jury.
  After 450 hours of testimony over 64 days, the case went to the jury of six men and six women. The verdict came after the jury had spent 30 1/2 hours deliberating over a four-day period. On January 21, 1986 Aiuppa and all of the other defendants were found guilty of conspiring to hide their ownership of a Las Vegas casino and of skimming $2 million in profits. Chicago’s FBI Chief Edward Hegarty hailed the verdicts and described the case "as the most significant prosecution of organized crime figures in the history of the United States." While the case has been overshadowed since by other large convictions, it was a major blow to the Midwest mob and the organized crimes control over Las Vegas.
  Aiuppa and Cerone showed no emotion as the judge read the verdicts which found the defendants guilty of all charges in the eight-count conspiracy indictment. It was the first time that Aiuppa had been convicted of a major crime.
   Aiuppa, 80, and Jackie Cerone, 73, received the stiffest sentences, 28 years each.
Angelo LaPietra, boss of Chicago's 1st Ward, was sentenced to 16 years; Joseph Lombardo, West Side crime boss, was sentenced to a 10-year term; and Milton Rockman, the Cleveland mob's financial adviser, 24 years. When the verdict was read, Aiuppa smiled and waved to friends in the courtroom
   Carl DeLuna, the Kansas City mob underboss, and Milwaukee boss Frank Balestrieri, pleaded guilty to the conspiracy as the trial progressed. Already serving a l3-year prison term for a Milwaukee extortion conviction, Balestrieri received a l0-year sentence, to be served concurrently, and a $20,000 fine but Balestrieri's two sons, Joseph and John, won a directed verdict of acquittal after arguing that the prosecution lacked evidence to convict them.
  Working under what then a newly passed federal law, the prosecutors sought immediate imprisonment for Aiuppa and Cerone, saying that they poses a danger to the community if allowed to be free on bond. The affidavit alleged that Aiuppa, as boss of the Chicago organized crime family, ordered or personally approved the murders of 14 persons, including his predecessor, Sam Giancana, and Allen Dorfman, which was probably true.
They were led away in chains to Leavenworth Penitentiary, 28 miles from Kansas City.
Aiuppa came to court in casual clothes, as opposed to the suite he normally wore and handed his lawyer his watch, money and wallet before he left the courtroom.
   When Chicago burglar Joseph Pops Panczko entered prison and he spotted Aiuppa
"Aiuppa recognized me and I recognized him," Panczko said "I asked him how much time he has left and he said, 'Too much.' "
  When Aiuppa entered prison in March of 1986, he was technically broke despite a 50 year criminal career. It was the gangsters hope that by appearing penniless the government would give up on its attempts to collect $143,000 in fines placed on him as part of his sentence. Aiuppa refused to tell investigators anything about his personal finances but federal investigators said they discovered that Aiuppa, apparently anticipating a conviction, placed an estimated $500,000 in real estate in the names of relatives while his trial was underway. He began transferring titles to his Oak Brook, Illinois home, five acres of adjoining property, three other parcels of land then worth $100,000 and two cars. (Although Aiuppa, continued to pay the $5,029 yearly property tax on his Oak Brook while he was in prison. The property remained in Aiuppa's name, although the tax bill was sent to a nephew.)
 During the trial, Aiuppa mentioned to a reporter that he bought the five acres of land near his home for $5,000 an acre and that it was then valued at $50,000 an acre. In mob circles, Auippa was noted for his generosity, once picking up the tab for an entire wedding for a mobsters son.  
  An informant told the FBI that the Aiuppa’s share of the Las Vegas skimming was more than $200,000 a month. He also collected hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash each month from gambling profits, and street taxes from bookmakers, burglars and loan sharks. David Helfrey, a Justice Department Strike Force attorney who prosecuted Aiuppa in the conspiracy, estimated that the stolen casino profits may have totaled more than $20 million during the four years that the FBI investigation was underway.  But that was all behind Aiuppa. In prison, he would be allowed to keep $10 in change for vending machines and another $95 in cash in a commissary account for personal items.
   Due to his ill health, Aiuppa and the sickly Carl Civella of Kansas City were sent to the U.S. Bureau of Prisons hospital facility in Rochester, Minnesota which has a campus like setting as opposed to high walls and wires. The prison is close to the Mayo Clinic, just a mile away. By the time he arrived, Aiuppa health has worsened and he was walking with a cane.  There he would live in three-man rooms, each with a large picture window overlooking tree-lined walkways on the 50-acre wooded site on the southeast edge of Rochester. On weekends the prison showed films on videotape in the dayrooms of the facility's four residence buildings.
  By 1987, the 80 year old Aiuppa’s health problems were so severe that occasionally he failed to understand even a simple statement from his attorney largely because of a condition that restricted the flow of blood to the brain. By then he had only served two of his 28 year sentence. Towards the end, he didn’t know why he was in prison. Arthroscopic surgery on his left leg due to deterioration of his knee, made it virtually impossible for him to walk. He suffered from heart problems, phlebitis and cataracts.
   In 1987, the US Appeals Court reaffirming his conviction in connection with the skimming of $2 million from a Las Vegas casino’s "The appeals court action has to be a signal to mobsters he once controlled that the boss is never coming home from prison," Patrick Healy, executive director of the Chicago Crime Commission, said
  In January of 1996, Aiuppa was released for medical reasons from a Minnesota prison hospital. Aiuppa’s wife, Angela, died in 1983 and he was cared for by his nieces and nephews in his home at 4 Yorkshire Drive in Oak Brook where he had lived since 1957.
   Auippa and died shortly after being released from prison at the age of 89 from the effects of throat cancer and heart disease.

Alex Gus:. Born April 1 1916. Died July 24, 1998 AKA Slim AKA Slick
Alex, the son of Greek immigrants became the only non-Italian to head the Chicago mob as part of a triumvirate in the 1970s. He grew up in the mob, practically. His father operated a restaurant at 26th Street and Wentworth Avenue in the 1930s that was the favorite hangout of Al Capone and Frank Nitti.
Alex had a criminal career that spanned five decades and although he was arrested numerous times, he was never convicted. However, he was finally done in by Lenny Patrick, his partner in crime for 35 years and the highest-ranking outfit leader in Chicago's storied mob history ever to turn government witness.
  Alex joined the Chicago Outfit in the late 1920s, after dropping out of high school in his second year. By 1930, he was suspected in the deaths of at least five unsolved underworld related murder cases. Two of the victims identified Alex as their assailant from their death beds.
   In the 1950s he took over from his mentor, Jake Guzak, for whom he had been a body guard in the 1940s. Alex was widely connected to not only to elected officials, but lawmakers, judges and crooked high ranking cops, and was considered, at least by the FBI, to be the Outfits man in charge of what one agent dubbed “The connection guys” non-Italian hoodlums who floated in and out of the Outfit. 
  Dubbed “Slick Al” by the FBI agents who tailed him in the early 1960s, when he appeared before the McClellan Committee he invoked the Fifth Amendment over thirty times.  In the late 1960s, he made so many trips to Switzerland to hide the Outfits cash, that the US State Department pressured the Swiss to revoke his entry privileges. 
  He was a power inside the Loop and remained the Outfits chief political-fixer until at least 1991. He also controlled prostitution inside the Loop, a business that produced millions for the mob in the 1960s.
   Despite his frail appearance over the years, Alex was a force to be reckoned within inside the Outfit well into his 70s. Anthony Accardo and Joseph Aiuppa took his advice and took it seriously. 
   Alex seemed untouchable by the law. Publicly, he was well mannered and humble. He had friends in Washington DC and in Hollywood California and lived a glamorous life style on North Lake Shore Drive. The Assistant U.S. Attorney who later tried Alex called him "the gentleman gangster, who outwardly appeared dapper and respectable but who spun his evil web from his Gold Coast apartment, sending out leg-breakers to do his bidding."
  Alex was accused of sharing in nearly $400,000 in profits from the extortions of legitimate businessmen and bookmakers in the 1980s and of supervising a North side crew under gangster Lenny Patrick, also in his 70s, who was charged in the extortion scam. (Both Alex and Patrick, despite their millions, were collecting social security payments) According to prosecutors Alex approved the shakedown schemes while Patrick directed the activities. Also indicted were Mario Rainone and Nicky Gio, on charges they were mob enforcers who carried out the beatings and threats. Gio, who was convicted on federal court of the arson-for-hire of a Wisconsin barroom and Rainone, was already in federal prison on racketeering and conspiracy charges.
   Alex, who suffered from a heart condition and ulcers, was released to home arrest after his indictment and forced to wear an electric ankle bracelet to monitor his every move. He was also forced to hand over his passport and post $25,000 cash and deeds to his condos here and in Florida as bond. Lenny Patrick, another gangster in his 70s, was accused of ordering several businessmen threatened and beaten to extort nearly $400,000
  In their youths, Alex and Patrick were hit men. Alex was arrested several times, including at least once for suspicion of murder after a rival gambler who was shot gunned on his front steps in 1947 identified Alex on his deathbed as the gunman.
In 1946, Patrick and two others were implicated in a sensational murder case, the shotgun shooting of James Ragen, the owner of a racing news service who opposed mob efforts to take over his business. But charges were dropped when two of three eyewitnesses recanted before a grand jury. Ragen told authorities before he died that Alex had threatened to kill him if he did not turn over the race wire business to the mob; Alex, though, was never charged.
   Lenny Patrick had cooperated briefly with federal agents in 1989, secretly tape recording a meeting he had with Alex in which they discussed payments to an unnamed union official. Patrick’s cooperation came to a halt when the government learned he continued to pocket money from crime even after the FBI paid him $7,200 over two months. The government then indicted him on racketeering and extortion charges and tossed him in jail. Patrick entered a guilty plea to extorting more than $300,000 from two restaurants and a car dealership and attempting to shake down other businesses and, to avoid a long jail term agreed, once more, to testify against Gus Alex. 
  He claimed that he gave Alex half of a $150,000 extortion payment from Ray Hara of King Nissan in Niles and a quarter of a $100,000 payment from the owners of two suburban restaurants and that he also passed on to Alex the entire monthly street tax of $1,500 from the owner of one of the restaurants, Myron & Phil's Steak, Seafood and Piano Bar in Lincolnwood Illinois and that he met with Alex regularly in a variety of places, including Northwestern Memorial Hospital, to deliver payments to him.
   In one extortion, Patrick ordered Rainone and James LaValley an extortionist and later a government witness, to extort at least $200,000 from the owner of an undisclosed Italian restaurant in Northbrook in 1987. Two days after confronting the owner at the restaurant, Rainone phoned him and warned him that if he didn't pay the $200,000 his “entire family would wind up in Mt. Carmel Cemetery.”
  The co-owner of a Lincolnwood Illinois restaurant and his son-in-law, the owner of a Wheeling restaurant, made regular payments after Rainone beat them up. They also made a large cash payment of $100,000 to Rainone who also threatened to "blow away" the children of the owner of a Chicago restaurant. In another case he threatened to cut off the head of a businessman and display it on the flagpole outside his Northbrook restaurant.
  Steve Triantafel, who owned Touhy House in Skokie Illinois for 33 years, testified that when one of Patrick’s thugs came to him in 1987 to shake him down, Triantafel lifted him up by the throat and promised to kill him if he ever returned.
   Rainone had cooperated with the government briefly, joining the witness protection program in 1989 because he feared a hit had been put out on him. However, he stopped cooperating when his mother's house was bombed. "He didn't tell them anything," his lawyer said.
  Paul Tamraz, owner of Motorwerks of Barrington, a Mercedes-Benz car dealer, said that when he was shaken down he complained to unnamed mob bosses when a hood with a reputation as "a bone-crusher" demanded $500,000 and threatened his family in 1988.
In both cases, the prosecution said, Alex approved of the extortions.
    In 1988, LaValley and Gio tried to start an Oak Park Illinois theater on fire by throwing jugs of gasoline and an incendiary device on the roof and then a Molotov cocktail. Both efforts failed.  They had been ordered to urn the place down because the Outfit wanted a percentage of its gate. Later, the two returned to the Lake Theatre, 1020 Lake St., Oak Park, and threw a hand grenade on the theater roof, but it failed to explode. The government claimed Patrick gave the order to burn the theater down and Alex approved of it. The government also claimed that Patrick personally ordered Alex Tapper, the owner of a construction business, severely beaten in 1988 to persuade him to repay a debt. Tapper was hospitalized as a result of the beating by LaValley and Gio, and Patrick congratulated LaValley "on a job well done."
   Alex never testified but Lenny Patrick did, for three and half colorful days in a packed courtroom in the Dirksen Federal Building.  Unlike the refined Alex who had gone out of his way to improve himself, Patrick purposely remained course in his ways and foul in his language. While Alex moved to Lake Shore Drive and kept condominiums in Florida and Germany, Patrick, a product of West Side Jewish neighborhoods, stayed in a modest brick house on the North side. Unlike Alex, Patrick was proud of his life style at one point explaining that he killed a man “Because in that world it was him or me and I wasn’t go’n no where”
   Patrick, the son of Jewish immigrants from England, said he quit school at 15 or 16, ran a dice game with cabdrivers on West Side sidewalks and engaged in the occasional holdup. In 1933, he was sentenced to 7 years in prison for bank robbery.
"He learned in the joint (that) bank robbery is not the thing to do," said Jerry Gladden, chief investigator for the Chicago Crime Commission "Gambling is where you make money."
   He admitted that he was triggerman in two killings and ordered the killings of four bookmakers, insisted: "I don't get a kick out of killing people. I done it to protect myself." And added that he wasn’t the only gangster in the 1940s and 1950s to kill rivals to gain and keep control of gambling in the Chicago area. "Everyone else did the same thing," he told Adam. "Your client did the same thing. You're trying to bury me. . . . There's no saints in this room." To which Judge Alesia repeatedly interrupted Patrick's rambling and admonishing him to answer Adam's question. "I'm sorry, judge, I really am," Patrick said. But when questioned about the 1947 slaying of bookmaker Harry Krotish, with the prosecution using Krotish’s nickname, "the Horse," a moniker Patrick said he did not know. "I did murder him, but he didn't have a horse," Patrick said. "If he did, I would have jumped on it and run with it."  When asked why he killed Krotish he said that it was because there was a rumor that Krotish, then 29, another West Side bookmaker, wanted to take over. "So I shot him." Krotish died from four gunshot wounds to the head.
  He recalled that he ordered three other bookmaking rivals killed: Edward Murphy in 1950; David Zatz[10] in 1952; and Milton Glickman in 1953. When he learned in late 1947 that Harry. When Adam asked if he had killed anyone other than the six he mentioned, Patrick replied, "No, I've run out of cemeteries."  He told the court that he killed his first man, Herman Glick, on Chicago's West Side because Glick, then only 21 years old, had knocked him down in a fistfight at a dice game  "He hit me and I went down," Patrick said. "I killed him a week later. I shot him in the head." He boasted that he “beat the rap” because 1932, the law didn't accept as evidence a dying man's statement naming the killer. The testimony laughter from an otherwise orderly courtroom watched over by a dozen security officers.
   Veteran defense lawyer Julius Lucius Echeles dropped in to watch the trial and said he was amazed at Patrick's repeated admissions of killing, observing that even very old murder cases can be prosecuted. "There is no statute of limitations for murder,"
   In the late 1930s, he joined a gang, robbing two banks, but he was arrested in an Indiana holdup and sentenced to 10 years in prison. Out of prison in 1940, Patrick took a job running the biggest dice game in Chicago for gamblers who put up the stakes. It was at that point, he said that he met Sam Giancana, Paul Ricca and Felix Alderisio.
"I used to get $3 a day and tips," Patrick said. "I stole about $30 a night."
   In 1945, Patrick and his brother were fired by William Galatz, a powerful West Side gambling boss. Patrick said he decided to kill Galatz; his partner, David Yaras, shot gunned Galatz to death and took his territory on the predominantly Jewish West Side for the mob and worked mostly as in the bookmaking business, taking bets on baseball, football and horse racing and running poker and blackjack games and even bingo.
   Patrick controlled the mob's bookmaking operation West Side from 1946 until the early 1950s, paying off hundreds of thousands to aldermen and three police captains to stay out of trouble. When the Jewish population migrated to the North Side and gambling fell off, Patrick was approval to move to Rogers Park, a Jewish neighborhood. He boasted that he paid off the cops well into the 1960s and in one year he made as much as $850,000 from the sports-gambling business because of heavy betting on the World Series won by the New York Mets or when the New York Jets upset the Baltimore Colts in the Super Bowl.
    He bragged about his ruthlessness and said he even leaned on his own relatives, threatening his brother Mike's son-in-law to coerce Mike to pay off a $250,000 debt. And in the late 1980s, he extorted $187,000 from his common-law wife's nephew. "It was my own money," he said.
   He was convicted in 1977 of criminal contempt of court for refusing to testify at a federal trial and assumed charge of his street crew in the 1980s. He said that he went into the "juice loan" business (Loan sharking) in the mid-1980s after Sam Carlisi, whom he identified as the Chicago mob boss at the time, lent him $200,000. He said that a short time later, Jimmy Marcello, a top Carlisi aide, asked him to "cause some problems" at the Lake Theater in downtown Oak Park to force the owners to join the projectionists' union. On his orders, Patrick said, several members of his "street crew" tried to firebomb the theater several times, but all of the efforts failed. Patrick also said Carlisi and John DiFronzo, muscled him out of "street taxes" he had collected for 15 years from one gambler, personally giving him the word at the funeral of Carlisi's brother. But he denied the prosecutions contention that it was Carlisi and DiFronzo who gave him his orders, not Alex. "Come on, come on, you're getting out of the tune there," Patrick said. "Now you're trying to tell me I didn't give (Alex) any (profits from extortions). That's out, that's out."
When Carlisi and DiFronzo muscled him out of the street tax, Patrick said he even went to Alex to complain, but Alex didn't do anything about it.
   Still scrappy, bitter and irritable and coming across like the back alley fighter he was, Patrick’s presence screamed of a bygone era of organized crime. He have his testimony sitting less then 30 feet away from Gus Alex
  Alex’s lawyer attacked Patrick of “pulling off the master con game of his life" and called the gangster "evil incarnate," "this diabolical piece of slime" and "one of the most cunning, conniving, evil, twisted people that you'll ever see." "There's no limit to this man," the lawyer said of Patrick "There's no limit to what he will do or say."
"I don't like to be here today to testify, but I either testify or die (in prison)," Patrick responded "If I get caught lying one time, that's it; I get 20 or 30 years. I don't want to die here, that's all. It's a true story, that's all. I don't have the guts to die here."
"You're talking in a low, conspiratorial tone," one of his lawyer complained
"I got a bad throat," Patrick replied. "If I had a Scotch I'd be better off." Causing the court room to chuckle and causing the judge to again warn Patrick to “stop the running commentary, this is a court room, not a night club” But Patrick continued to send wise crack and sly remarks which sent his attorneys into minor convulsions. At one point, in an effort to show his better side, he told the court how he feeds spaghetti and meatballs to opossums in a favorite forest preserve and waxed on about how he and Alex were “remarkable creatures” because they had managed to survive so long in the hostiles of the underworld and were still in business and not “living in Florida sucking on cigars and grapefruit”
   "I don't like to testify," said Patrick, his head bowed "But I don't want to die in prison."
He defended his actions by explaining that he pleaded guilty to extortion charges after the FBI gathered enough evidence to send him away for a long time. When Alex’s lawyers lit into Patrick’s person, Patrick snapped back in complete sarcasm "Yes. I am the dirtiest thing living on Earth. I don't have feelings for anybody. Everybody's so afraid of me they shiver when they see me. They put on an extra coat."
    He described how a lifelong friend scammed him by getting him to put up $165,000 to finance a non-existent bookmaking operation. The friend disappeared, and Patrick had another man he suspected of being involved in the scam severely beaten. "I went for it, and I'm supposed to be the con man," Patrick said to nervous laughter in the courtroom. But "I don't want any tag day (for me)."
  Patrick also admitted extorting money from some well-known businesses and people, including the Big Bear grocery store chain, the Black Angus Restaurant, and insurance executive Allan Dorfman, who was killed in 1983. Patrick said Yaras extorted $300,000 from Dorfman while he was nearby; he and Yaras split $75,000 and gave the rest to syndicate bosses, he said.
   He said that his crew consisted of Gio, Rainone and Raymond Spencer, the crew’s street boss until his death in 1984.  Spencer was a suspect in Allen Dorfman murder. Lenny Yaras  who was gunned down in 1985 by two men in ski masks, was the gangs go-between for mob bookies. Gary Edwards, who "assisted in the crew's extortion, juice loan and gambling operations," later turned states evidence against the others. Pete Buonomo, who allegedly picked up extortion payments on behalf of Rainone was a member as was Joe Vento, described as an "outfit member assigned to oversee the crew's juice loan business"; and Phil Tolomeo, who "assisted in the crew's juice loan business," The crews primary source of income, was the 260% interest it got from lending money to desperate gambler.
   Patrick admitted he came up with the idea to extort Ray Hara, owner of King Nissan, whom he had known for more than 40 years. Patrick conned Hara into paying him $150,000, half of what his own mob enforcers had demanded. Hara did not know that
Patrick sent the collectors "I did give him a break," Patrick said. "I cut (the extortion demand) in half. I'm proud of myself. I thought he had too much. That's why I asked for it."
  When he was done testifying, his underlying Nicky Gio stepped forward in court and offered to help Alex walk and go to the bathroom at the Metropolitan Correctional Center if the two could be placed on the same floor. He told the judge that "He (Patrick) almost died in the hole. They didn't get him any medical attention." But the Judge cut him off and told Gio to let his attorney talk for him. Patrick was the only one of the prosecution's approximately 20 witnesses to directly implicate Alex as Boss of the North Side street crew.
   At one point during the trial, the prosecutor claimed that Gus Alex tried to buy Patrick's silence for $50,000, relaying the message through Patrick's lawyer. According to Patrick, the lawyer told him that Alex would give Patrick's longtime girlfriend $50,000 if Patrick "keeps his mouth shut" and doesn't testify against him (Alex) The lawyer would also keep
another $50,000 for himself and added that “If you don't you're going to be shot dead” Patrick did admit that the story was dubious and that he was angry at the lawyer because he “milked me dry" by charging $74,500 in legal fees before Patrick began cooperating with the government.
    To prove that Alex was the true boss of the crew and not Lenny Patrick, Patrick’s lawyers wanted to call Gus Zapas, secretary-treasurer of the Laundry Workers Union, in an attempt to explain alleged payoffs to Gus Alex, but the judge quashed the subpoena when Zapas' lawyer said his client would plead the 5th Amendment and refuse to testify. Patrick testified for the government that Zapas annually gave him and Alex $14,000, proofing, the government said, that Gus Alex shared in Patrick’s crews take.
    While the trial dragged on, without Alex to keep a lid on things, his street crew was out of control. In December of 1992, a dispute over drugs and money prompted one crew member, Al Vena,  to murder another, Sam Taglia, and make the crime look like a Mafia hit. According to the cops, Vena shot Taglia in an argument over a failed delivery of drugs, then placed the body in the trunk of Taglia’s 1983 Buick and abandoned the car and the body in the 100 block of North 13th Avenue, Melrose Park. A resident, seeing what appeared to be blood dripping from the car's undercarriage, called police. When police narrowed the murder down to Vena and went out to arrest him, Vena slammed his car into an unmarked Chicago police car and tried to run over a Chicago detective, before driving off at high speed. He was arrested a few blocks later.
  At about the same time, Lenny Patrick’s daughter parked in the driveway of her home in a quiet residential area of Rogers Park and walked into her home. Several minutes later the car exploded.  No one was hurt in blast, but the bomb left a driveway crater 5 inches deep and 2 feet across. It was probably activated by remote control, perhaps by a someone positioned nearby on North California Avenue, in view of the house. The explosion blew out windows and demolished a 1987 BMW which was owned by Sharon Patrick's fiancé Robert Goodman, a building contractor. The force of the blast `vented' through the BMW's sunroof so there was no fire.
 "If the motive for the bombing was to get him (Patrick) to shut up, I don't think it will work," one cop said  "Lenny and Sharon Patrick don't get along. They haven't spoken to one another in years. So I doubt the bombing is going to seriously upset him."
  Apparently the father-daughter dispute stemmed from Lenny Patrick’s divorce of Lorraine’s mother in the 1960s. Sharon Patrick, angry with her father for cutting off financial support to his former wife and family, publicly berated him in front of mob friends in a restaurant.
   In the end, the facts and evidence were to overwhelming. Alex was found guilty.
 Just before sentencing Alex’s attorney insisted that Alex wasn’t aware of the acts of violence, o which the judge replied "Why should he have? He was the organizer. He had plenty of underlings for that." He then sentenced Alex to 15 years and eight months in prison for sanctioning extortion through his street crews. He was also fined $823,000. For Alex, 76 years old at the time, the term imposed was a death sentence. The judge, James Alesia (The nephew of bootlegger Roger Touhy) ordered Alex to pay the cost of prison, about $1,400 a month. To make sure he paid, the government froze almost $1 million in cash and securities as well as his two condominiums, on Lake Shore Drive and in Florida, that belonged to Alex.  The freeze was ordered after federal prosecutors accused Alex, working through his lawyers, of transferring about $1.7 million in a brokerage account to his wife's name after he was indicted.
  Moments after the guilty verdict was announced, Alex, looking completely exhausted and gaunt, pulled a folded handkerchief from his navy-blue pinstripe suit coat, pushed his reading glasses out of the way and wiped under both eyes. He was then escorted, via his wheelchair, out of the court room surrounded by a dozen US Marshals.
 Alex died of a heart attack while confined to a federal-prison medical center in Lexington, Kentucky at age 82. 

Alex, Sam Born 1907 AKA The Rip Older brother of Mob Capo Gus Alex AKA the Greek. Alex was arrested on November 2, 1932 on a raid with Murray Humpreys, Three fingers Jack White, Charlie Fischetti, Marcus Studdy Looney, Klondike O’Donnell, Paddy Sullivan (AKA Cullen, the brother in law of Red Barker) and Billy Martin (Partner to Fur Sammons)  By then Alex already had a record as a safe blower. He said he was in the mob office to buy some restaurant fixtures although he didn’t know why he was buying them. He was arrested in 1933 for the murder of labor leader Dennis B. Zeigler, no charges were filed and he was released. A few days later, on May 28 1933, he was locked up in a general round up of union goons and extortionists. He was considered to be working under Marcus Studdy Looney and was known to work in dynamite bombs used against unions that held out against the mob. In 1946, Sam Alex had the sole position of delivering monthly pension checks to mob widows to make sure they stayed loyal after their husbands had died. For his payoffs, Alex kept a four room suite at the St. Clair Hotel, suite 14-E under the name Joe Henry

Alex George: Born 1908. Youngest of the Alex brothers (Sam and Gus) He lived at 2604 Wentworth avenue and was employed, in the 1930s anyway, by the hoisting engineers union.

Alterie Louis Born 1886 Died July 18 1935  O’Bannion gang member, called Two Guns. Although he actually did carry two guns, both of the pearl handled pistols, the name was mostly used a form of ridicule against the colorful gangster. Murdered by the mob 1935 under orders of Frank Nitti after Alterie (Who claimed to have once been a member of the Denver Colorado Police) refused to give up his control of several local labor unions.

Allied Citizens of America This temperance group was created by the Anti-Saloon League in 1920 "to help the government enforce the law." It disbanded two years later in the face of overwhelming public defiance of the prohibition laws.

Allegretti, Jimmy. AKA The Monk. Born 1905 21 East Cider Avenue. A Northside power in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Allegretti was one of the largest gamblers in the city and ran most of the mobs nightclub holdings along Rush Street. He was also a prolific bookmaker who started his career as a union extortionist who was questioned in the Bas shooting. He held an interest in several north side bars with the so-called “The Dom’s” Dominick Brancato,  Dominick Nuccio (1936 North Clark Street)  and Dominick Bello.

Allegretti, Frank. 1916 Race Street. Active in the 1950-60s, primarily a mob gambler/bookie

Anselmi and Scalise It was Anselmi and Scalise who introduced the idea to Chicago gangland that rubbing bullets in garlic would assure a kill, since the garlic would enter the blood system and finish the victim off if the gunshot didn't. Actually, rubbing the bullets in garlic only sterilized them.   However, they did introduce the more successful "handshake kill" -- grasping a victim's hands in a welcome and then shooting his head off. It worked on gang leader Dion O'Bannion and underworld financier Matt Kolb, although it was probably only Anselmi who took part in the Kolb killing, with Paul Ricca.    Later, when Hymie Weiss offered to make peace with Capone if he would turn over O’Bannon’s killers so he could murder them, Capone said, "Is he nuts? I wouldn't do that to a yellow dog."  Actually Capone would have turned them over, but since Weiss was on the run anyway, and Anselmi and Scalise worked for so little money, Capone walked away from the offer.
    The day came when the Genna’s ordered the pair to kill Al Capone, which they knew was suicide. So instead of killing Capone, they went to him with the plot and offered him their services to kill the Genna’s instead.   Capone took them up on the offer. Anselmi and Scalise lured one Genna into a trap where he was killed, and killed another brother shortly afterward. Then Scalise and Anselmi turned on Capone. The pair entered into a plot by a pair of gunmen named Joe Giunta and Joey Aiello, to kill Capone.    Frankie Rio, Capone's bodyguard, learned of the plot and told Capone about, it but Capone refused to believe that Scalise and Anselmi would sell him out.  To prove it, he and Rio rigged a fake argument that ended with Rio slapping Capone across the face while Scalise and Anselmi watched. The next day, Scalise & Anselmi approached Rio and let him in on the plot to kill Capone. Rio took the information, with proof back to Capone.  
    A week later, on May 7, 1929, Capone hosted a dinner in Scalise and Anselmi honor, at a casino called The Plantation, outside of Chicago. When the enormous formal dinner was ended, Capone stood and made a short speech on loyalty and then accused Scalise and Anselmi of plotting to kill him. Before Scalise or Anselmi could defend themselves, Capone pulled a Louisville slugger baseball bat [11]out from under the table, and swung it down hard, first on Anselmi, who, according to witnesses, was still smiling when the first swing hit him in the skull, and then on Scalise, whose only words were, "Jesus, Mother of God Al, No! Please no!"     
    Their dead bodies were found along a roadside days later, bound in bailing wire, their eyes gone, not a bone in their bodies unbroken. They had been shot, by Jack McGurn, three times each, in the back of the head.

Anton Theodore: Owner of the Anton Hotel, a long time personnel friend of Capone’s, he disappeared presumed murdered 1925 by Al Capone for reasons unknown, although its speculated that Capone, in a drunken rage, beat the tavern owner to death.

The Archer Club In 1946, the FBI placed a tap on a barbershop phone used by the outfit and learned that Sam Giancana had opened the Archer Club and the 430 Club and the Windy City Holding Corporation, nothing more then a bookie operations despite their names, with his partner in all of these operations was Congressman James Adducci, the Fed's also learned that Giancana had been promoted to Accardo's Underboss 

Arnold Joe, Born 1917 under the name Jerry Voltaire He was a longtime body guard to Jimmy Allegretti and a power on the Northside in the 1970s and 1980s,  where he was known to work with Mike Glitta, Frank DeMonte and Joseph DiVarco.

Automatic Shotgun In addition to the Thompson machinegun, the second weapon of choice in prohibition era Chicago was the automatic shotgun, a combination a manual shotgun with and automatic pull that fired off .57 caliber slugs, able to penetrate automobiles and most walls.

Atlas Beer (Atlas Brewing Company) In 1958, life for Chicago mobster Gus Alex was  good. He drove new cars, lived in the best possible apartment building and belonged to the best possible club, the Whitehall. Best of all, nobody knew who he was. That changed when the FBI had the balls to show up at Gus Alex's swanky apartment at 4300 Marine Drive and interviewed his gorgeous wife who of course knew nothing. In 1943, the Manhattan Brewing Company once owned by Johnny Torrio and Dion O'Bannion, changed it’s name to the Atlas Brewing company. Mob financial manager Alex Louis Greenberg took over the company in 1943, with Joe Fusco as another investor. Roemer was able to determine that Alex "worked" for the Atlas Beer company so he stopped by for a chat with Atlas management. The agents let Atlas Beer know that if they continued to carry Gus Alex on the books as a dummy salesman, that they would drop a dime to the IRS.   At first that was no problem for Alex who had the same set up with the Blatz Brewing Company of Milwaukee, but Roemer, professional mob ball buster that he was, paid a visit to Blatz and Blatz dropped Gus Alex from the books too. 
     On July 22 1958 Roemer tracked down Gus Alex in the person and slapped him with his subpoena and on July 30 Alex appeared before the McClellan committee and took the Fifth Amendment fifty times. "He cowered in his chair" wrote the Chicago Tribune "like a man about to get a belt from a rubber hose" 
     By mid 1958 the FBI backed off the war on organized crime in Chicago and the top hoodlum program was reduced from ten to five agents who were expected to deal with a full caseload up and above chasing made guys. However in the summer of 1959, Richard B. Ogilvie became the chief of the Attorney Generals Midwest Office on Organized Crime and had started a full fledged investigation into Tony Accardo and Jackie Cerone, then Accardo's top man.   Accardo and Cerone were both on the payroll at Premium Beer, the company that distributed Foxhead 400 out of Waukesha Wisconsin. At that point, Premium was owned by Dominick Volpe.  Based on FBI Agents footwork, Ogilvie was able to determine that nether Accardo nor Cerone had ever sold a drop of beer for Premium and were therefore not allowed to claim Accardo's Mercedes-Benz as a business expense. As a result, Accardo was indicted for, and summarily convicted of, income tax fraud.   The United States Seventh Circuit court of Appeals reversed the conviction, citing prejudicial publicity and ordered a retrial for Mr. Accardo....without use of his W-2 as evidence against him. Accardo was acquitted on retrial.   They were every where. The parked outside his house, they followed his daughter and watched how much she spent and where she spent it.  They followed Accardo to. The questioned his neighbors, cab drivers, elevator operators. They were going to indict him for tax evasion and he knew it.  They wanted to find his hidden financial interest.

Angersola Brother: John (Resided at 4431 Alton Road, Miami Beach, Fla., and another home at 5440 La Gorce Drive, Miami) and Fred Angersola AKA John and Fred King, from Cleveland. Known business partners with the Fischetti brothers in several Florida based policy businesses. The brothers hailed from Cleveland where they ran a massive gambling business. John Angersola had arrest records in Columbus, Detroit, Cleveland, and Toledo ranging from robbery to suspicion. Brother George Angersola was a known associate of Moe Dalitz, (AKA Moe Davis) and the Polizzis.

Aleman Harry: Born Harry Peralt Aleman on January 19, 1939. Harry Aleman drew up an impressive early rap sheet.  In 1960 he was arrested for malicious mischief, in 1961, gambling, in 1962, possession of burglary tools assault and criminal damage. In 1965 he was arrested for aggravated assault. In 1966, grand theft auto and armed robbery. In 1968, criminal damage to property in 1969, aggravated kidnapping. In 1971, violating Federal Reserve Act and in 1975 keeper of gambling place
    Aleman’s
mother was Italian, his father a native of Durango, Mexico, who became, as Aleman put it  "sort of a Mexican godfather" who was allegedly involved in narcotics trafficking. Aleman grew up in an apartment building at 917 S. Bishop Street in Chicago that was owned by his maternal grandmother and full of uncles, aunts and cousins.
"My father was hard on me, extremely hard," Aleman said "He beat me every day until I left home. He used his fist or a horsewhip. If I looked at him the wrong way, he beat me. My mother . . . would intervene and consequently got hit herself."
The beatings stopped from age 7 until age 11, when his father went to prison on a robbery conviction. While he was gone, the family was often poor but t got by.
  Aleman seemed to excel in high school. He was a halfback on the football team, a member of the physics club and took up boxing, where he earned his nickname The Hook.  He graduated in 1955, rare for a hoodlum of that generation, and enrolled in the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts and graduated in 1958 with a commercial art diploma. Afterwards he hustled race track tout sheets and working at the produce markets on the Near West Side. "I sold produce. I sold drawings," Aleman said. "I hustled in general."
  In 1962 Aleman, his brother Freddie and two other men were arrested in the beating of Howard Pierson, the 23-year-old son of the commander of the Chicago police robbery section. Police said the four were in a bar on North State Street when Aleman pushed a woman through a plate glass window. Pierson said he chased Aleman and the others out, then flagged down a police car. Police were questioning Aleman and the others when Pierson caught up with them. Without warning, Aleman attacked Pierson, breaking his jaw. For that incident, Aleman received two years' probation.
   Joe Ferriola, a rising power in the mob, had married a sister of Aleman's mother. He took the young Aleman under his wing and as Ferriola continued to rise in the mob, so did Aleman. He joined up with the so-called Taylor Street crew with Butch Petrocelli, Louis Almeida, Leonard Foresta and James Inendino. The group made their headquarters the Survivor's Social and Athletic Club, on Taylor Street. In the 1970s, about the time that Joe Ferriola became the Outfits underboss, he and Aleman started to reorganize 
sports betting operations, and force independent bookmakers to pay tribute for the right to operate. Aleman said Ferriola had instructed them "to organize Chicago the way it was back in the '30s and '40s.” As an added source of income , Aleman and the others started to commit home invasions and burglaries. Each hood was paid $500 for his work and the proceeds were turned over to Aleman
   In 1964, he married, in a civil ceremony, Ruth Felper Mustari, a widow with four children. Ruth's first husband, Frank Mustari, had been a mobster as well. He was killed in 1957 in an attempted robbery of a tavern. Ruth was the ultimate mob wife. She stood by her husbands story that he was a commercial artist and that, in true mob tradition, the family was dead broke most of the time. In 1976 after Aleman was indicted for the murder of Billy Logan, Ruth came to the Cook County Jail with a suitcase containing $250,000 to bail him out, not realizing that she needed only $25,000.
   The couple had no biological children, but Aleman focused instead on being a real father to Ruth’s children "I raised them," Aleman said. "I consider them my own. I couldn't be any closer if they were my own blood. I love my kids. I love my wife. I have six grandkids--this gives me hope."
  "He was wonderful to my children," Ruth Aleman recalled. "He took the kids to Kiddieland, to dinner, on picnics, camping. He always had time for the kids.
Ruth died in 2002.
  Although he was slightly built, -5 feet 8 inches tall and 145 pounds,  Aleman became so feared in underworld circles in the 1970s that small time hoodlums trying to collect gambling debts simply invoked his name to collect. Two Chicago loan sharks were convicted of extortion and sent to prison in 1978 for collecting a $6,500 debt from a South Side tavern owner by saying that Aleman would come after him if he didn't pay. Prosecutors said it was a ruse and Aleman was not involved in any way. However,
authorities publicly linked Aleman to at least four murders, although he was formally charged with only one of them and was acquitted on that charge. He was suspected, probably not correctly, in the murder of Richard Cain, a made member of the mob who
infiltrated the Chicago police before being exposed in 1964. Cain, a protégé of the late mob boss Sam Giancana, was slain by masked gunmen in Rose's Sandwich Shop in Chicago in 1973. Aleman was also a suspect in the slaying of Orion Williams, 39, a meat thief whose bullet-riddled body was found stuffed in a car trunk in 1974.
According to the Chicago Crime Commission, Aleman was involved in the following deaths;

Oct. 19, 1971: Samuel  Cesario, AKA Sambo, clubbed and shot to death by two masked men as he sat with his wife in lawn chairs in front of 1071 W. Polk St in Chicago
Cesario was Aleman’s uncle. Butch Petrocelli was said to assist in the killing. Police suspect that  Cesario had secretly married the girlfriend of Felix "Milwaukee Phil" Alderisio after he was sent to prison.

Sept. 27, 1972: William Logan, 37, a Teamsters union shop steward and ex-husband of Aleman's cousin, shot to death with a shotgun in front of his home at 5916 W. Walton St.

Dec. 20, 1973: Richard Cain, 49, a top aide to then-high-ranking organized-crime boss Sam "Momo" Giancana, shot gunned at point-blank range by two masked men in Rose's Sandwich Shop, 1117 W. Grand Ave.

Feb. 24, 1974: Socrates "Sam" Rantis, 43, a counterfeiter, found with his throat slashed and with puncture wounds in his chest in the trunk of his wife's car at O'Hare airport.

April 21, 1974: William Simone, 29, a counterfeiter, found in the back seat of his car near
2446 S. Kedvale Ave., with his hands and feet bound and a gunshot wound in the head.

Sept. 28, 1974: Robert Harder, 39, a jewel thief and burglar who had become an informant, found shot in the face in a bean field near Dwight, Ill. He once escaped an assassination attempt by Aleman and a partner, James Inendino.

Jan. 16, 1975: Carlo Divivo, 46, a mob enforcer, cut down by two masked men who opened fire with a shotgun and a pistol as he walked out of his home at 3631 N. Nora Ave.

May 12, 1975: Ronald Magliano, 43, an underworld fence, found blindfolded and shot behind the left ear in his burning home at 6232 S. Kilpatrick Ave.

June 19, 1975: Christopher Cardi, 43, a former police officer who made high-interest loans to gamblers, shot eight times in the back and once in the face by two masked men as his wife and children looked on inside Jim's Beef Stand in Melrose Park.

Aug. 28, 1975: Frank Goulakos, 47, a federal informant, shot six times by a masked man who stepped out of a car as Goulakos walked to his car near DiLeo's Restaurant, 5700 N. Central Ave., where he was a cook.

Aug. 30, 1975: Nick "Keggie" Galanos, 48, a bookmaker, found shot nine times in the head in the basement of his home at 6801 W. Wabansia Ave.

Oct. 31, 1975: Anthony Reitinger, 34, a bookmaker, shot to death in Mama Luna's restaurant, 4846 W. Fullerton Ave., by two masked men.

Jan. 31, 1976: Louis DeBartolo, 29, a gambler deeply in debt, found shot in the head and with his neck punctured four times with a broken mop handle in the rear of the store where he worked at 5945 W. North Ave.

May 1, 1976: James Erwin, 28, an ex-convict who was suspected in the murders of two other reputed mobsters, cut down by two masked men with a shotgun and a .45 caliber pistol. He was shot 13 times as he stepped out of his car at 1873 N. Halsted St.

July 22, 1976: David Bonadonna, 61, a Kansas City, Mo., businessman, fatally shot and found in his car trunk there. His murder was one of several unsolved mob-related slayings that year in an apparent mob attempt to infiltrate nightclubs featuring go-go girls.

March 29, 1977: Chuckie Nicoletti, one of Sam Giancana’s favorite men, he was
shot three times in the back of the head while sitting in his car parked at Golden Horns Restaurant, 409 E. North Ave., Northlake Illinois.

June 15, 1977: Joseph Frank Theo, a burglar involved in stolen auto parts, found with two shotgun wounds to the head in the back seat of a car parked at 1700 N. Cleveland Avenue in Chicago

   Lou Almeida was a small time thug who went to prison for robbery and was released in 1970. Aleman gave him a $2,500 loan and hired Almeida on as his driver. “He told me, `Come around, don't get lost,' " Almeida said. "He was looking for armed robberies and burglaries and was trying to get people to go on them. He was also bragging that he wanted to be a hit man. I guess he had to announce to everybody that he was starting to kill people for money or kill people who didn't listen to him."
  Almeida, a  Fifth grade dropout who had served time for armed robbery, grand theft, burglary, and bond jumping, recalled  "We (He and Aleman) grew up together near Taylor Street and Racine. He used to hang around on Bishop Street and I used to see him and talk to him," Almeida recalled. "Everybody looked up to him because his family was supposed to be in the Mafia. We hung around in the pool hall, in the park. He liked to bet on the horses and I think he was bookmaking, too. He always had money . . . nice clothes. We called him `The Sheik' because he dressed nice. He said he had it rough at home, that his father beat him, handcuffed him to a radiator. I don't know how much of it was true"
When asked if he thought Aleman really killed twenty people, Almeida replied "I don't know. He liked to kill things. But sometimes, the police, if they didn't know who did a hit, I think they would just put it on Harry." When asked what type of cars Aleman drove as a teenager he replied  "I don't know--you mean legit cars? "I don't know, everybody drove stolen cars."
   He recalled how Aleman met his wife, Ruth, whom he married in 1964 "She worked in this club on State Street. We used to go there quite a bit. Everybody loved Ruth, she was beautiful. Harry broke off an engagement to an Italian girl from the suburbs to marry Ruth and he was thrown out of the house because she was a cocktail waitress.  It was a terrible argument. His father wanted him to go to college, to marry this other girl. Harry didn't want to."
   He said that Aleman was a strict father to his adapted children Ruth's four children by a previous marriage, Almeida said. "One of his sons, he wanted me to beat up one time. The kid was getting drunk and staying out late and Harry didn't want to beat him up because Ruth would feel hurt. So I gave him a couple of light taps on the head with a rope. I was going to scare him, tell him I was going to tie him up with a rope and throw him in the trunk."
  He said that he broke away from Aleman in 1974 after escaping what he believed was an attempted murder by Aleman and Inendino.   In 1972, when, standing outside Aleman's Melrose Park home, Aleman told him he had just talked by phone with two of his robbery crew members and learned they had kidnapped a Hillside Policeman named  Anthony Raymond, taken him to Wisconsin and tortured him to death.  “I said, `What are you telling me this for? I don't want to hear it. I don't want to be involved. That was one of my bigger mistakes. Harry didn't like that. He just looked at me. I thought he was going to have me hit." Two years later in 1974,  Almeida said he was sitting in the front seat of a car next to gangster Jimmy Inendino. Aleman was in the back seat. "Harry put a gun to my head," Almeida said. "I looked back and he put the gun down. He and Inendino started arguing and then it seemed Harry sort of forgot about it. The person we were there to shoot didn't show up. I never really trusted him after that. Another time, right after that, we were in an alley and Harry got out of the back and got a shotgun out of another car. He told me to look straight ahead," Almeida recalled. "All I could see was windows with white shades drawn down. I really believed he was going to try to hit me. I left and I went my own way."
   In 1975, Almeida was arrested in Ohio en route to a murder “Some guy”
in Pittsburgh. (“ I used to get my ammunition from Harry”. He said once “He used to make his own ammunition in the garage of his house.") State police stopped his car on suspicion and found a loaded pistol with a silencer. He was sentenced to ten years in prison where he attempted suicide.  He began cooperating with the government  shortly afterwards, cutting a deal for early release and entry into the witness protection program.
   According to Almeida, teamster’s steward Billy Logan refused to cooperate with the mobs plans to steal cargo from his trucks. However, authorities believe that Logan was killed while involved in a bitter custody battle with his ex-wife, Phyllis, who testified that she was Aleman's second cousin and that after divorcing Logan, she had had an affair with Petrocelli. Logan had a fist fight with Petrocelli, made threats about making Petrocelli miserable. When his wife warned him to stay away or she would ask Aleman, her second cousin, for help, Logan was said to have replied  “Fuck that guinea," A few nights later on September 27, 1972, Almeida drove Aleman to Logan's home and waited.  Almeida said that in August of 1972, he and Aleman discussed plan a to kill Logan and that Aleman gave him two license plate numbers and Logan's home and work addresses, writing "Death to Billy" on the same piece of paper. Almeida then trailed Logan to learn his habits and schedule.
   Billy Logan, then 37 years old, had grown up on Chicago's Near West Side, an area known as "Little Italy." He lived on the second floor at 5916 W. Walton St. with his sister, Betty, who was divorced. His sister, Joanna, and her children, lived on the first floor. Logan,  part time cab driver, awoke for his night shift at Interstate trucking, dressed and stopped to say good night to Betty. He also stopped on the first floor to talk with Joanna. Logan's nephew William Dietrich was on the front porch and watched his uncle walk across the street  to his parked car and then heard a voice say, "Hey, Bill, come here." Almost simultaneously, three gunshots rang out: two from a shotgun, a third from a pistol. He heard his uncle yell out  "Oh, my God," Logan’s sister Betty raced out the street where he lay dying. "He was still alive. He mumbled something. His keys fell. I held his head. I said, 'I'm not getting up. I don't want his head on the ground.' It was like in the movies."
"This killing was personal, not business” she said years later "When you come from the old neighborhood, people tell you things. "[Aleman] didn't get an OK to kill my brother. We found out."
   Eleven days before the murder, on Sept. 16, 1972, Aleman directed Almeida and another hood to burglarize a home in suburban Oak Lawn where Aleman believed $40,000 in cash was kept in the basement. But after tying up a woman in the home and terrorizing her baby, Almeida and Foresta left with only $1,800 and some jewelry.
  Almeida said that had driven mob killer Harry Aleman to Logan's home. Logan’s crime was that he refused to allow the mob to steal truck cargos driven by his drivers. 
"I pulled up so the back door was where he was," said Almeida. "He was stepping off the curb. Harry seen Billy Logan coming out of his house. "Harry told me to start up the car, and I pulled the car to the car Logan was getting into . . . so Harry could get a clear shot at him.
  Then Harry called to him."
"What did he say?" asked an assistant Cook County state's attorney.
"Hey, Billy," Almeida replied. "Billy walked up the curb between the two cars. That's when Harry shot him. Billy flew back and was crawling to some bushes,"
 Almeida heard the shotgun blast and Logan cry out, "Oh, my God!" There was another shot, said Almeida, then Aleman got out and fired a third time. When Aleman got back into car, Almeida testified, he said, Drive slow. He's gone."
    The government had another witness in the case, a young man named Bobby Lowe who was walking his dog just at the moment that Logan was gunned down. Lowe did not want to be a witness in the case. Right after he saw the shooting, he says, his father told him it was possibly a Syndicate killing and "to shut up and get inside" the house. When the police interviewed him that night, Lowe never volunteered that he saw the murderer. But Lowe kept worrying about what he knew and felt that he had a responsibility to speak up. "I didn't feel it was safe for my kids on the street. Did you ever watch a horror movie? You'd be sleeping, and then parts of that movie would come back and scare you? Well, this was the same way. I'd be trying to sleep, and I would see that face. I was always looking behind me, looking for a car to pull up alongside me."
   Three months after the murder, Lowe went to the police and, after examining photos, picked out  Harry Aleman, although he had no idea who Aleman was or that he was suspected in taking part in at least twenty mob murders, maybe more. But no case was brought against Aleman.  The police however, later said that Lowe was lying. He hadn’t come into headquarters and no one showed him photos. They later changed the story and said that they had lost Lowe’s identification.
   After Almeida’s statement was made,  Assistant State's Attorney Nicholas Lavarone
found Bobby Lowe and got him to cooperate on the case. But, understandably, when Lowe found out who Aleman was, he backed out. His family, his wife, mother and father, urged him to stay away from the case. However, his brother, who had been shot in a gas station holdup and later was helped by a witness who agreed to testify for him, told him
"think for yourself, be your own man." Lowe  agreed to be a prosecution witness.
    He was forced to leave his job as a gas station manager and give up his apartment. The family was put under 24 hour guard. He was given a $250.00 a month allowance by the state and the strain began to show and his marriage started to come apart and he lost weight and couldn’t sleep. 
  With great fanfare, then-Cook County State's Atty. Bernard Carey announced the indictment of Aleman in the fall of 1976. The case came to trial in May 1977 before Cook County Circuit Judge Frank Wilson.
   On the witness stand Lowe testified "Me and that man (Aleman) just stared at each other." They were perhaps four feet apart. Remarkably, the judge in the case, who was paid $10,000 by the mob to throw the case,  noted the discrepancies between police records and what Lowe said in court and declared that "The fact Lowe lied on the witness stand must cast a pallor over the testimony of this witness." He then pronounced Aleman not guilty.  The prosecutor, Nick Iavarone, said ''It was incredibly frustrating. I convicted people on half the evidence that we had for this case.''
   The state of Illinois gave Lowe and his family new identities and moved them to another undisclosed location. When asked if he was sorry for what he did Lowe said
"No. If there would be a new trial, I would testify again. I stood up for what I believe."
  Lowe drifted into substance abuse and petty crime, which resulted in two years in prison. He eventually overcame his addiction and reunited with his wife and children.
   The police said that several days after he was acquitted Aleman  took part in the murder of Joseph Theo, a burglar involved in the stolen auto parts business.
   In March of 1989Aleman was paroled after serving nearly 11 years of a 30-year sentence for the home invasions. Boss Joe Ferriola, his uncle, would leave Aleman $100,000 in his will shortly after Aleman's release from federal prison. He moved in with family members in Oak Brook. He  began working for his son-in-law's concrete cutting business, Accurate Coring Company, 825 Seegers Rd., Des Plaines,  as the personnel manager and would later describe the next nine months as "the best time of my life."  "We were whole again,"  his wife Ruth said. "We cooked together, shared meals--years ago, Harry taught me how to cook, how to make the gravy for the meatballs."
  Aleman wasn’t free for long. In 1990, Aleman Ernest Rocco Infelice and 18, essentially the Ferriola street Crew,  others were charged with using bribery, beatings and murder to run and protect the Outfit's multi million dollar gambling, extortion and juice loan operations. The primary witness against them was one time mob gambler Bill Jahoda. The charges against Aleman involved extorting money from two bookmakers whose betting operations competed with the Ferriola-Infelice family. Aleman pleaded guilty in return for the negotiated sentence. Given time already spent in custody, Aleman was sentenced to 8 years in prison.   Aleman, an accomplished artist, asked the judge to send him to the federal prison near Oxford, Wisconsin, so he could pursue his painting hobby. The judge agreed. Aleman said that he had been in Oxford before and enjoyed the "artwork" there and that as prison painting programs go, he said, Oxford's ranks among the best for landscape and still life.
   In 1997,  Aleman was tried a second time for the Logan murder a judge ruled that
the rule of double jeopardy didn’t apply in Aleman’s case since the first trial was fixed by a $10,000 bribe to the presiding judge in that trial. It was the first time ever in U.S. history that a citizen acquitted of murder would go on trial for the same murder a second time.
   Right after he was indicted, a guard at Oxford prison watched Aleman meeting with two men, whom he couldn’t identify. He Aleman pass notes to the pair and say, "The two will be taken care of if this goes to trial, one after the other." The government suspected that Aleman could have been referring to witnesses poised to testify against him. The notes were destroyed before guards could seize them.
   One day into the trial, it was also declared a mistrial when a juror, described only as a
a suburban woman who works as a flight attendant and nurse,  called the prosecutor and said she feared for her life and would like to be excused from the court.
"Well, to be honest, I was just worried about this case and where it's going and what could happen to me as well as, you know, family members," the woman told the prosecutor "I just wanted to know if there was anything that I could do to take myself out of it. When they (say) there are many witnesses who are not here to be able to testify these days," she said. "I mean, I don't know if that's all because of natural causes."
Just basically, you know . . . `I hope we're around after this. We'll exchange Christmas cards and hopefully we are all around at Christmastime.' Just things like that. We just kind of lightheartedly, you know, talked about it."   The juror was dismissed.
   Aleman’s lawyers cleverly muddied the waters by suggesting that  noted mob killer William "Butch" Petrocelli had actually gunned down William Logan in 1972.
To solidify the point, the defense called  Phyllis Napoles, Logan's ex-wife, who told the jury that six months before he was murdered, Logan was involved in a fist fight with Petrocelli during which Petrocelli threatened to kill Logan.
   Petrocelli, a longtime friend of Aleman's, couldn’t argue the point. He disappeared on December 30, 1980. His body was found in March of 1981 in the trunk of his car parked on a Southwest Side street. The reasons given for Petrocelli’s killing vary. Some in law enforcement believed he was murdered for stealing mob money, some suspect he was trying to take over gambling operations that belonged to someone else, and still others suspect Aleman ordered his death for reasons unknown.
   Logan’s wife (They were estranged at the time he was killed)  said that in March of 1972, six months before Logan was killed, that Petrocelli came to her home to pay his respects because her mother had died several weeks earlier.
  "It was a very sad marriage," said Napoles "He (Logan) drank a lot. He was abusive to me and the children."
    After divorcing Logan in 1967, she said she became “intimate” with Petrocelli and that
Petrocelli asked her to marry him, although he was still married himself.
 "I had a great deal of respect for his dark side” She said about Petrocelli He had a very violent nature in him."
   While they were drinking coffee, Logan arrived and when he was refused entrance, Logan became abusive and attempted to kick the door in, Napoles said. "He had been drinking heavily and he started to kick in the door," she recalled. "Butchie (Petrocelli) asked him to leave and they went to the alley. They struck each other physically and there was a lot of profanity."
   Under cross-examination, she conceded that she did not see what went on in the alley, but added, "You could hear them. They were fighting. . . . They threatened to kill each other." And later added "I had a great deal of fear for Mr. Petrocelli. That's why I didn't marry him." She was stunned however, when the prosecution presented her with the fact that one of her daughters (by her third marriage) had visited Aleman in prison to which she replied   "We were as close as cousins could be."
  Aleman’s lawyers complained that much of the evidence from the 1977 trial was missing including the defense trial file; shotgun wadding and pellets recovered from Billy Logan's body were gone, as was Logan's bloodstained clothing; diagrams and photo displays used in the first trial were also gone. Worst yet, many of those who could have provided testimony beneficial to Aleman were dead.
  The judge had barred any references to organized crime and as a result, Aleman background as a noted Mafia killer suspected in 15 to twenty mob murders, was unknown by the jury, as was Petrocelli’s. Nor were they allowed to learn that Petrocelli died  because his face had been burned beyond recognition and he had been stabbed twice in the throat. His death, however, was caused by suffocation due to tape covering his nose and mouth, authorities said at the time.
     Robert Cooley, a former lawyer who represented mob figures and later became a federal informant, testified he delivered the $10,000 bribe to Judge Wilson at the mobs request, although he was forbidden by the court to use the word mob, he instead said that
He paid on bribe on behalf of  “Officials in the 1st Ward.”
   Cooley said he delivered the bribe to Wilson on orders from the mob who told him that they could arrange to get Aleman's case sent to Wilson if Cooley could arrange the payoff. It was odd because in 1977 Wilson had a reputation as a "hard-nosed, state-oriented judge who had no empathy" for criminals.
  How Wilson got the case is a mystery. It was originally assigned to a Judge James Bailey, but Aleman’s lawyers filed a motion for substitution of judge, naming Bailey and Wilson as unacceptable because they were allegedly biased. The case was then reassigned to a judge named Fred G. Suria Jr, but the lawyers also objected to Suria contending he was biased, too, but the motion was filed beyond the deadline.
Suria recused himself because the motion contained information that could have been the basis for a reversal had he continued to hear the case. Suria  then called Chief Judge Richard Fitzgerald office to get the case reassigned and was told the new judge would be Wilson even though Wilson had already been named by Aleman's lawyers as unfair.
However, by that time, Aleman’s lawyers didn’t object and Wilson was left with the case.
Wilson committed suicide in 1990.
   According to Cooley and later, Aleman’s cellmate, a former Cook County Judge named
Thomas Maloney was involved in the payoff as well. At the time, Maloney was a lawyer.
He said that working on behalf of  Boss Joe Ferriola, Maloney reached out to Pat Marcy and told Marcy to contact Wilson about throwing the case, since it was weak anyway. 
" He's a good friend,' " Cooley quoted Aleman as saying of Maloney. " `I've been with him for a long time. You can trust him. "
   Monty Katz, Aleman's cellmate at a federal prison in Wisconsin claimed Aleman told him the same thing. Katz also said that Aleman bragged that (Butch) "Petrocelli was (Aleman's) lifelong friend who he had flattened--he meant killed" because he feared Petrocelli was going to become a government witness against him. Katz, a narcotics dealer whose father was gambler David Zatz, a bookmaker who was murdered by Lenny Patrick in 1952, was a lifelong criminal with 15 conviction behind him.
   Cooley said he approached Wilson at Greco's, a restaurant Cooley co-owned in Evergreen Park, while the judge was drinking, just in case he reacted angrily to the proposed fix. Cooley said he figured that if Wilson beefed publicly, "nobody would believe him." It was generally agreed that Wilson as an alcoholic. Wilson wasn't offended, Cooley said.
  Cooley recalled "Who would question a judge like that if the facts were relatively weak and he found him not guilty?.  I told him (Wilson) `It doesn't look like a strong case. It's a real weak case. These are very dangerous people we're dealing with. . . . You can't take it and change your mind. You have a problem and I'll have a very serious problem,' He indicated OK, he would take the case."
   When Cooley raised the issue again with Wilson, the judge said he didn't think the case could be assigned to him because of the defense lawyer's opposition, Cooley testified. But Cooley assured he could have it transferred to his court.
A couple of days later, Cooley said Wilson agreed to fix the case as the two met in a bathroom at Greco's. Cooley said he gave Wilson a $2,500 "down payment" in an attempt to keep the judge from backing out. Cooley said he didn't know how the case was transferred to Wilson, but that Pat Marcy, a corrupt politician, had told him he would take care of the reassignment.
  Cooley recalled meeting Wilson in the bathroom of a restaurant after Wilson had acquitted Aleman. "I gave him the money," Cooley said. "The seventy-five hundred. He was a broken man. He said, `That's all I'm going to get?'  I started to tell him -- he turned his back on me -- that I would give him more. He said, `You destroyed me. You've killed me,' and he walked out. I knew what had happened to me and to the judge."
"What was that?" the prosecutor asked .
"We had been used," Cooley replied. "I destroyed him."
On Feburary  5, 1990, Wilson, retired to Arizona, walked into his back yard with a pistol and fired a fatal shot into his head.
  Bobby Lowe testified again. He said that he saw a car with its engine idling, then a shotgun protrude from a back-seat window. He heard gunfire. He saw Logan fall and then a man open the car door carrying a pistol and fire the killing round. Lowe said he and the killer stared ay each other for  a fleeting 4 seconds, and then he ran back to his house.
On October 1, 1997, twenty years after his acquittal in the same case, Aleman was found guilty of murdering William Logan. He was found guilty and given 100-300 years in jail.
   In December of 2005, Aleman was up for parole and insisted that he didn’t kill Billy Logan, but that Logan’s killer was his former business partner,  William "Butch" Petrocelli because Petrocelli, who was involved with Logan’s ex-wife, said that Logan "used to knock Phyllis around and give her black eyes all the time."
  Aleman believes that Petrocelli was in trouble with the government and that a relative in law enforcement persuaded him to flip. And then the government didn't want to admit Petrocelli was the Logan killer.
  Aleman also denied he was part of the Mafia or organized crime, and insisted he was set up by government "stool pigeons". When asked of he had read mob lawyer Robert Cooley’s book on his life in crime, Aleman spat out "Bob Cooley, the stool pigeon guy?"
"He's the lawyer who allegedly carried the $10,000 to Frank Wilson, the judge," replied board member David Frier. "Oh, now I know who you mean, yeah. No, I never read his book. He's a rat. He's going to say anything they want him to say, sir. C'mon. A rat, that's what they do. Give him a script, and he reads it."
    Aleman also said of his 100- to 300-year prison term "Serial killers get that. I caused no problems for anybody, and I'm no threat to anybody. And 27 years is a long period,"
Scott Cassidy, the Cook County prosecutor who helped put Aleman behind bars, urged the board not to show any leniency toward Aleman who snapped at Cassidy "Look at me and say that. I got 27 years in prison, almost half of my life,"
"Harry” continued Cassidy “should be denied parole because the fact he escaped justice for so many years, and he lived the best part of his life while Billy Logan was dead,"

Alosio William AKA Billy 1121 Huron Street Syndicate hood active in the 1950s. he was indicted for murder in 1943 but released

Ambrose Chris: Residence  St. Charles Illinois. He operated the Palable Lounge. Said to be the syndicate wiring gambling boss in St. Charles in the 1940-50s  

Aola, Chester AKA Sadio. 6823 North Hamilton Active in the 1950s-60. Primarily a gambler

Ames Howard: 127 West Washington Street in Waukegan. Syndicate handbook operator in the late 1950s

Arnstein, Peter and Ollie 19 East Ohio Street. In the late 1950s the couple were the favorite bookies for Accardo and Ralph Capone.

Anhauser Busch; This American icon made it through Prohibition by making ice cream, near beer, corn syrup, ginger ale, root beer, yeast, malt extract, refrigerated cabinets and automobile and truck bodies.

Angelini Donald AKA The Wizard of Odds, Born 1926. Died December 8 2000 Correctly, Angelini was viewed by authorities as one of the top money makers in the syndicate history. He and Dominic Cortina, reigned as gambling czars over a $20 million per-year sports betting empire. Angelini scoffed at the government's figures, but government agents insisted their numbers may even have been conservative. He did it by setting nearly unbeatable spreads on sporting events and controlled the odds for football, baseball and hockey games.
  Bill Kaplan, who had been around the gambling world since the days of Al Capone,
Was one of the last independent gamblers in the city in the 1960s. He had built up a lucrative racing and handicapping service on Clark Street that supplied odds to bookmakers all over the world in the years before the nation's scattered wire services were legislated out of existence by the government and supplanted by the Las Vegas casinos. One day, "Milwaukee Phil" Alderisio's attempt to squeeze him out of business. It was just a matter of time before Alderisio grew tried of asking and simply killed Kaplan and Kaplan knew it. Kaplan went to mob lawyer George Bieber[12] and Mike Brodkin and cut a deal in which he would hand over 50% of his business in so long as the somber and deadly Alderisio stayed away from him and his business. It was a lucrative offer and the Outfit sent in the smooth, educated Don Angelini as the intermediary
   Eventually, Angelini was selected as the Chicago family's replacement for Tony Spilotro out in Las Vegas, but by then, the mobs interest and influence had floundered. Cops and crooks alike considered the refined and urbane Angelini to be a cut above the rest. Unlike the other representatives sent out to Las Vegas by the mob, Tony Spilotro, Marshal Caifano or Johnny Roselli, Angelina was a thinking man, a true gambler who never intimidated or killed anyone. Angelini, like Spilotro and Caifano, was barred from entering Las Vegas casinos by the state of Nevada and by the state of Illinois.
    Splitting his time between Las Vegas, the West Coast and Chicago, in November of 1989, Dominic Cortina (Born 1929) and Angelini, pled guilty to charges that they ran a multimillion dollar betting empire that took wagers on college and professional football, basketball and baseball games. (Others involved in the case included Joseph Rosengard, Joseph Spadavecchio Leonard Zullo, Raymond Tominello, Richard Catezone, Louis Parilli, and his brother, Charles Parilli) The group took in bets of up to $188,000 a day at 16 different locations in Chicago, Oak Park and Bensenville Illinois. Cortina organized the ring, supervised the booking offices, gave large bettors telephone numbers to place their bets, and paid out and collected winning and losing wagers from special gamblers, according to the charges. Angelini provided the point spread, known as "the line," and took bets from gamblers outside the Chicago area. In one instance, Angelini took bets totaling $16,000 from one out-of-state bettor on the outcome of football games being played by Boston College, Clemson, Nebraska, Mississippi, Texas and Southern California.
   Joey Auippa, greedy and thoughtless, demanded that Angelini and his boss Dom Cortina to explore all avenues outside of Las Vegas in an effort to determine new "skimming possibilities." So Angelini found, eventually, the Rincon Indian reservation in California. 
   In all likelihood, the Outfit would have passed on the Rincon reservation deal because it was such a disorganized mess, filled with tribal backbiting and politics. However, Angelini and DiFronzo came to the attention of the West Coast FBI after they made several messy collections out west. The Bureau taped their phones and gained information, most of it from the financier Richard Silberman who was involved with Angelini. 
   The plan was to finance the tribe's venture into gambling, take over the operations, skim money from the casinos as well as use it to launder money from narcotics sales. Dom Angelini placed Chris Petti, the outfit's man in San Diego, in charge of the takeover. Petti, in turn, was to deal directly with Angelini's brother-in-law, Michael Caracci, a soldier in the DiFronzo crew. The two hoods fought endlessly and complained about each other to Chicago through the back channels.
  Caracci contacted Petti at the same San Diego pay phone they had been using for years, which, unknown to them the FBI had tapped years before in a different case. The FBI sent in an undercover agent named Peter Carmassi, who presented himself as a
money launderer for a Columbian drug cartel. The Chicago mob, in the meantime, had decided that Rincon was a bust and wouldn’t put any money into it. However, they would allow Angelini and Petti to stay involved if they could find an outside source to finance the plan. Carmassi, the FBI agent, showed an interest.  In several tape recorded and filmed meetings with undercover agent Carmassi, Petti laid out the entire scam to take over the Rincon reservation gambling concession.
  On January 9, 1992, the government indicted Petti, DiFronzo, Carlisi and the reservation's lawyer, on 15 counts of criminal conspiracy. DiFronzo and Angelini were convicted and got a 37-month sentence, with fines approaching one million dollars.
  Carlisi, DiFronzo and Angelini would all go to prison in 1993 on federal racketeering charges.  Carlisi was eventually released from the case but Angelini and DiFronzo were convicted and each received 37 months for their part in the scheme. Both sentences were later reduced on appeal.
   Angelini died  at age after fighting cancer for years. The Outfit never replaced Angelini out west and the position of Representato to Las Vegas is, by all accounts, no more.

Andriacchi Joseph AKA The Builder AKA Joey A  Born 1933.  The low profile Andriacchi, one time boss over the North Side, Elmwood Park and Lake County. His crew members were an impressive lot, including Vincent J. Cozzo, Michael Marcello, Don Scalise, Rudy Fratto, Andrew Lombardo, Frank “the German” Schweihs.  He is said to be a cousin of Joey Lombardo and a childhood friend of John and Peter DiFronzo. He was questioned, to no avail, in the car bombing of  Lenny Patrick’s daughter. Andriacchi was convicted in 1965 for burglary.

Aloisio William. AKA Smokes. 1121 Huron Street.. Born 1906 Aloisio was a graduate of the old 42 gang, a suburban mob that included the Battaglia Brothers, the Caifano’s and Sam Giancana. He was a tall slender man who tended to dress flashy. His arrest record dates back as early as 1928 and served a 5 year prison sentence for aiding and abetting evasion of the wartime draft in 1944.  (He tried to buy his brother George’s way out of the service for $500.) Otherwise, Aloisio was a gunman and killer of note in the underworld in the 1950s and 1960s under Sam Giancana. It was Aloisio who owned the bowling alley where Machine Gun Jack McGurn was killed [13]
He was also considered a suspect in the murder of Committeemen Charlie Gross.

Amato, Joseph: For several decades Amato ruled over what was then rural Lake and McHenry counties outside of Chicago. However, in 1976, as the counties started to develop, Tony Accardo felt that a younger hand was needed to capture all the potential vice dollars in there and handed the areas over to Turk Torello. Shortly afterwards, Amato’s much young and very beautiful wife Bette, divorced him. In November of 1979, Barrington police arrested him in his Lake Zurich apartment on a complaint of his ex-wife, charging him with forging her name to a $15,000 insurance settlement check from a stable fire that killed several of Amato’s horses. Shortly afterwards, Amato sold his front company, a tobacco wholesale firm he had operated as a front for his other activities and retired to Lake Zurich, Illinois. 

Annoreno, Steven: Born 1927. Resided at 329 Wisconsin Ave. Oak Park. A loan shark active in the late 1960sunder Fifi Buccieri

Ammirato, James AKA Emery Chicago Heights . Primarily a mob gambler/bookie active in the 1950s

 Ammirato, Ralph: 2455 North Albany Ave. Primarily a mob gambler/bookie active in the 1950s

Andre’s Lounge: 301 North Mannheim Road. Owned by Frank Pantaleo, a building contractor with ties to the Outfit. His partner was Manny Skar, the mob burglar. A popular mob gathering place in the very early 1960s, it catered to the burglar set. 

Avolio Nick: 34 South Waller Ave. Born 1903 Died 1954 (?) AKA Nicola Avolio, Nick DeVito, Luigi Salvestore. A lower level hood with a series of arrest in the New York area in the 1920s, he had been a driver for various mob bosses in Chicago in the late 1940s, and Avolio disappeared off the streets in 1952. Before he disappeared, Avolio told his son “I won’t be around long” and that “I’m in trouble” and would then break into tears and often refused to leave the house. At the time, Avolio was under deportation orders for his suspected role in the murder of Policeman William Drury. It’s more likely that Avolio was killed because of his knowledge of the true depth of Paul Ricca’s involvement in the Bioff Hollywood sandal.





[1] The Chicago mob rarely dealt directly in narcotics, that is, on  a street level. However, it has always been deeply involved in financing narcotics
[2] Roemer, Man Against the Mob
[3] Roemer
[4] In fairness, Muller was, to say the least overzealous. In 1954, one man, Harold Lewin, was so irate over the unfairness of the ticket Mullen gave him he repeadity rammed his car into Mullen’s cruiser. On another occasion Muller gave 126 tickets in one hour. He ticketed people for J walking. He once arrested a citizen for refusing to help him arrest an out of control drunk.  
[5] He also represented Mickey Cohen, Murray Humpreys, Eddie Vogel, Jake Guzik, Milwaukee Phil Aldersio and John and Ralph Capone
[6] Testimony of Former FBI agent Virgil Peterson before the Kefauver Committee, December 18, 1950
[7] Colosimo was an antique collector

[9] Aiuppa’s brother Sam born 1900 resides at 910 North 22nd Ave in Melrose Park, was employed by the mob run projectionists union.
[10] Mob lawyer George Bieber was one of Zatz’s pallbearers. The same day, Zatz appeared in court to defend the suspected shooter. 
[11] Purchased at a sporting goods store on his way to the dinner
[12] In his youth Bieber had worked for Dion O’Bannion as a slugger in the newspaper circulation wars “Out job” he explained “ was to dump over the other guys delivery trucks”
[13] In 2007 the bowling alley was a D&L office furniture store, the allies were ripped out in 1950.

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