John William Tuohy lives in Washington DC

John Tuohy's History of Organized Crime in Chicago (C)


Cavaliera Ralph, AKA Armie, (He lost an arm in a car accident, hence the nickname) Cavaliera was a close associate of Dago Lawrence Mangano and was with Mangano when he was killed in 1944. After Mangano’s death, Cavaliera went to work for the Outfit operating Barbout games in the Halsted-Blue Island area.

Central Envelope and Lithograph Company: On Feburary 21 1951 State Representative James J. Adducci was accused of collecting commissions from the Sam Giancana owned Central Envelope and Lithograph Company run by Giancana’s brother in law Mike De Tolve (DeTolve’s brother James was the company VP) Adducci was also accused of  pushing business from the state of Illinois to the company. Leo PFum, the state supervisor of printing refused to answer any question on the grounds that he might incriminate himself. Adducci was paid $5400 “For past and future business” State Representative Anthony J. De Tolve, was the De Tolve’s uncle

Cannata Carl: A handbook operator in Cicero in 1952 in partnership with Joe Vicaro at 4807 Cermak Road in Cicero

Cerone Tony: Of the 705 AFL truck driver’s oil driver’s filling station and platform workers. On June 13 1950 was run over by a car and killed in front of his home at 733 north Springfield

Cerone, Frank: Brother of Jackie Cerone. Resided at 4301 Judd Ave. in Schiller Park. In October 1949, he was ambushed and shot by persons unknown as he drove through River Grove, over what was probably a dispute over slot machine locations.

The Capitol and Silver Dollar Café, a bar in the Levee district frequented by prostitutes and run by Jakey Adler and Harry Hopkins

Corbin, Van: Murder victim. Born 1913. On July 23 1966 Corbin, (born 1915) was shot and killed as he stepped out of a rented room at the Country Club Motel at 8308 North Avenue in Proviso where he had registered with his family while he waited over the weekend to move into his new home. Corbin, who was related to Frankie LaPorte the southwest Cook County boss, had built Sam Alex’s house and Tony Accardo’s house. (He ran his construction company out of a dry cleaning store, however) The killers used silencers to fire the four shots that killed the builder. Corbin was probably killed for either talking to the IRS about his mob customers or for actually giving the IRS information to avoid being indicted himself for tax evasion. 

Capezio, Anthony AKA Tough Tony: A life long friend of Tony Accardo, he started in the mob in about 1929. During the FBI’s John Dillinger investigation he was one of the principal contacts with "Baby Face" Nelson, for the Dillinger gang. Capezio was one of the suspects in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago in 1929 and was also a suspect of the murder of Mike DePike Heitler, a brothel house owner. Tony Accardo was also a suspect. Capezio was closely associated with John I. De Biase alias Johnny Bananas, of the Twenty-eighth Ward in Chicago, who was a very powerful political force for the Outfit. Capezio's wife, Marie (Frank Nitti’s sister) was part owner of the Orchid Flower Shop, at 2408 West Chicago Avenue with Louis Campagna's wife. The couples also owned a high end cocktail lounge together. Capezio was also a lifelong friend of Claude Maddox,[1] and worked with Maddox in some of his numerous operations in Cicero. In the 1930s, Capezio, Maddox,  Rocco De Grazio, Fred Rossi, and others tired to take control of  Local 705 of the Teamsters and Chauffeurs Union.

Capone Al: Born 1899 Died 1947 Gang Leader. Al Capone would become America’s most famous bootlegger, an odd distinction since Capone was primarily a procurer, a pimp and, despite his fame, Capone would always be more of a legend than an influence on organized crime. He was widely regarded in his day, on both sides of the law, as a crude buffoon who ended his own career through his desire for fame and notoriety.  Capone owed his celebrity to the local and eventually the national media who were desperate to find a central point in Chicago’s extremely disorganized and violent bootlegger business. The press took his garbled words and rearranged them often times into witty insightful messages and commentary on the day.
In 1922, Capone, who was more or less still a procurer and part-time enforcer, was making $2,000 a week, more money then he ever dreamed he could make but it was still a mere fraction compared to the millions that Boss Johnny Torrio was piling away.
Towards the end of 1927 he said he “fooled away about ten million on gambling,” he tipped newsboys $5 for a five newspaper, and $100 for a waiter. He once bought a round a drinks in a country club speakeasy in New York for 1000 people. He wore a pinky ring imported from South Africa worth $50,000. In 1929 his car cost $30,000, at Christmas he spent $100,000 on miscellaneous gifts.  Tourist buses stopped in front of “Capone’s castles,” the otherwise shabby Hawthorne Inn in Cicero and the Metropole hotel in Chicago.   When he attended a prize fight it made the sports column, the London Daily Mail sent a reporter to cover “A week in the life of Al Capone” and feature stories of personal glimpses of the gangster sold for a flat $100. 
As his fame grew so did his ego. Always vain, he explained the horrible scars on his face and neck (Gotten in a knife fight in a bar room) to heroic actions in the trenches during World War One while fighting with the “Lost battalion” in France. (Capone never served in the military) 
   He distributed diamond inlet belts and gave away ruby encrusted cigarette lighters.   He would outlast four police chiefs; he was credited with killing between 20 and 65 men himself and ordered the killing of at least 400 others and was never charged with one of them. He outlived several dozen investigations, committees and prosecutors. There was nothing about Capone to mark him for fame and fortune. He dropped out of sixth grade after punching his teacher in the old Williamsburg section of New York; he impressed no one and was known only for being mediocre, a soft-spoken nonentity.
It was commonly accepted in the Underworld that Torrio was the brains in the Chicago outfit and Capone was the muscle. However, after Capone over threw Torrio, he proved to be more than just the gorilla that most gang leaders pegged him to be and for what he lacked in intelligence and education, his underlying provided.
Capone’s criminal empire included the ownership of breweries, distilleries, speakeasies, warehouses, fleets of boats and trucks, nightclubs, gambling houses, horse and dog tracks, brothels, labor unions, hundreds of private businesses, he employed at least 1,000 full-time enforcers, one third of the Chicago police department and several thousand other employees. His gross income was an estimated $105,000,000 for the year, at a time when a middle class American family got by, and very well, on less then $8,000.  
That was in 1927. By 1933, it was all gone and Al Capone was nothing more than a number in the federal prison system. He died broke and powerless, twelve years later. In Atlanta prison in 1936, Al Capone told Red Rudensky, a burglar, “Uncle Sam got me on a bookkeeping rap. Ain’t that the best!”? 
“He would,” Rudensky wrote, “roar with a choke and cough with laughter but not for long as reality would strangle his humor.”   Then Capone would say, “Rusty, if I could just go for a walk. If I could just look at buildings again, and smell that Lake Michigan, I’d give a million.”
Capone was resented, even hated in prison. Kidnapper and bank robber Alvin Karpis wrote: “The majority of the population in any prison is made up of losers from the gutter of society. Most of them aren’t even wanted at their own homes when they are released. They resent anyone who has had prosperity on the outside.”
Jimmy Lucus was one of those inmates. Surly and mean, Lucas worked at the Alcatraz barbershop with Capone and wanted to make a name for himself. One day while Capone was practicing his banjo Lucas slipped up behind him and shoved a pair of shears into Capone’s back. Capone grunted deeply in pain, stood up with the shears still sticking out of his back, turned and picked Lucas up and smashed him face first into the pillar before he collapsed in pain from the superficial wound.   Karpis wrote: “In Alcatraz, he’s a fish out of water. He knows nothing of prison life. For example, he is allowed to subscribe to various magazines, and, like other prisoners, he is permitted to send magazines to other inmates after he reads them. Ironically, Capone, who gave orders to eliminate hundreds of lives, is now confined to rubbing out names on his magazine list when he becomes displeased or annoyed with fellow cons. It’s kind of sad, I conclude.” 
Capone had contracted syphilis in or about 1927, something he knew but failed to treat. When prison doctors finally began to treat Capone’s syphilis, it was too late to correct the damage that was done to his body. With his nervous system infected by the disease, he was slowly losing his kind. But even before then, Capone was, said other inmates, losing his mind, talking about “Connected people in Washington”[2] who would pull strings to get him released. He said that he had paid $20,000 in bribes already. It may not have been all babble.  In 1939, the wife of well connected Chicago gangster Gus Winkler, told the FBI that some of Capone’s friends in the organization were trying to get him released before Frank Nitti, the boss who followed Capone, ended their efforts.
Capone was released to the care of his wife on November 7, 1939, and spent his freedom on his estate in Palm Island, Florida “reading newspapers,” his brother Ralph reported, “and walking the grounds to get some sunshine.” [3]   He spent his summers at a retreat in Mercer, Wisconsin, where brother Ralph had retired and opened a bar room. Otherwise, Capone kept out of the limelight and enjoyed his freedom. He made a brief appearance in 1941, when his son, Sonny married a Florida society woman.
The press, perhaps in a moment of nostalgic bliss, wrote one glowing story after another for Capone in January of 1942, when
Capone offered his services to the war effort “in any capacity to aid the national defense.” [4]  The government never called him back but his famous armored car was helping the British war effort in 1942, being driven around to fairs and carnivals to raise cash for its new owner and the Queen’s government.  In July of 1942 the Treasury Department sued Capone in federal court and demanded payment of back taxes totaling $250,000 which the government claimed Capone made during prohibition selling 19,984 bottles of beer between 1921 and 1922.  They were probably wrong about the dates since at that point Capone was still a low level operative in the Torrio organization. But the government was relentless anyway. Prosecutors were sure Capone had tucked away at least $25,000,000 of his fortune and they it.  But insiders later said that Capone had perhaps $5,000,000 left and before he died most that was spent or given away to his son. In the end, the tax people settled for $30,000.
On January 25, 1947 Capone died in his $8,000,000 heavily mortgaged mansion in Florida. He had suffered an apoplectic seizure and then contacted pneumonia. Remarkably, he was only 52 years old. With him at the last moments were his ever-faithful wife, Mae, his son, his mother and three of his brothers, Ralph, Matt and John.
He was buried in Chicago’s Mount Olivet cemetery on a bitter cold day, his coffin was draped in orchards. Although a dozen of the old time bosses that had known Capone in his prime were allowed to attend the burial, Chicago ruling boss, Tony Accardo, forbade a large mob turn out saying “I don’t want this thing turning into a Goddamn circus”[5]  Capone’s wife and son, with all of their money gone, spent their last days living off of the good will of Mob boss Paul Ricca.

Circle H Ranch: A mob Chicago casino active in the mid 1960s.

Chinaman: A Chicago mob term, a person who helps to guide ones criminal career. 

Chicago Beer Wars of 1923: In the beginning of 1923, Chicago’s beer routes were divvied into territories. The Torrio mob had control of almost the entire South and South-West areas of the city, which included the towns of Calumet City and Burnham, near the Indiana border, as well as suburban Stickney and Cicero.
   Within the Torrio areas, there were eight independent gangs that operated in a loose confederation under the Torrio flag. To be under the Torrio flag, the gangs agreed to sell only Torrio made beer.     Not part of the make up were the South Side O'Donnell brothers, Edward (known as Spike), Steven, Tommy and Walter (as to be distinguished from the West Side O'Donnells - Klondike and Myles. The two families were not related.)
   The O'Donnell's supplied a better product at a lower price than Torrio's beer rot gut product, forcing Torrio and his allies to drop the price of their beer to a level the O’Donnell’s couldn't match. As a result, Spike O’Donnell, the gang’s leader, and his brothers started to strong arm saloon owners on the South Side into purchasing his beer at the higher price, choosing the territory run by The dangerous Saltis-McErlane and the Ralph Sheldon gang.
   The South Side O'Donnells imported several thugs from New York led by a killer named Harry Hasmiller. Now properly beefed up they began hijacking Torrio's beer trucks and pushing their own booze in Torrio's territory and the territory controlled by the murders Saltis-McErlane mob.
    The O'Donnells brought in George "George the sport" Bucher and George Meeghan as their salesmen for their beer. The sales pitch was dreamed up by Spike O’Donnell himself and was soon in use by every gang in Chicago. The pitch consisted of Meeghan and Bucher walking into a salon and telling the bar owner that from there on in he would be purchasing his beer from the O'Donnell gang. If they refused, they bombed the place and then offered the money to rebuild the joint, in so long as they sold only O'Donnell beer.
    Spike O'Donnell lowered the price of his beer and made deep in roads into Saltis-McErlane territory. By this time, the insane Saltis and McErlane had entered into a permanent working relationship with the growing Torrio organization.
    The Torrio organization, under the Saltis McErlane flag struck back against the upstart O'Donnells.  It was raining in Chicago on September 7 when the O'Donnell brothers, Steve, Walter, and Tommy accompanied by their best gunners Bucher, Meeghan and Jerry O'Connor made a second visit to Jacob Geis speakeasy at 2154 West Fifty First Street.
    When two of the O'Donnells had shown up at the salon earlier in the week to demand that Geis buy O'Donnell beer, Jacob Geis and his bar tender Nick Gorysko, threw them out on their butts.  This time the O'Donnells arrived in force, in front of at least twenty witnesses dragged the salon keeper across the bar face first and black jacked him, cracking his skull. When Gorysko the bar tender tried to save his boss, they beat him half to death as well.  Now boiling for another fight, the O'Donnells busted up five more salons in their territory that were buying Torrio beer eventually working their way over to one of their own salons, Joe Klepka's place on South Lincoln Street where Spike O'Donnell joined up with his gang.
    Following the O'Donnells through the doors was a red faced McErlane carrying a shot gun and backed up by four of his best gorillas led by Danny McFall and a former leader in Ragen’s colts.   McFall fired off a shot in the air and screamed "stick em up" and then placed his gun to Jerry O’Connor’s head as the other O'Donnells dived for cover.
    McErlane whispered something to McFall and then slipped out the door on to the sidewalk. McFall followed with Jerry O'Connor held at gunpoint. Once outside, McErlane turned and fired both barrels into O'Connor’s face, taking it off.   On September 17, O'Donnell gang members Bucher and Meeghan were driving two truck loads of beer to their stops when two masked men, probably Danny McFall and McErlane again, leaped out on to the road and halted the O'Donnells trucks forcing Bucher and Meeghan out of the cabs. As they were about to kill them both, a car approaching from the opposite direction caught them in the headlights. Shots were fired at the car as it sped by.
   The next morning Police found Bucher and Meeghans bodies in a ditch, their arms tied behind their backs, their head full of bullet holes.        
    McErlane and Walter Stevens (1867-1939) caught up with two more O’Donnell gang, William Shorty Egan and Morrie Keane as they were delivering O'Donnell booze. The two gunners were tied up and taken for a ride. In the back seat of the car, McErlane shot Keane in the head and then fired a blast into Egan, who lived, and tossed both of them out of the car. 
   Al Capone, still a new face in town, was spotted at several of the murders but was never tied in to the killings directly. Frustrated Spike O'Donnell said "I can whip this bird Capone with bare fists anytime he wants to step out in the open and fight like a man"
  But an honest fight was never to Capone's taste.
   The police locked up McErlane for the Morrie Keene killing, but States Attorney Robert E. Crowe reduced jail term until trial to house arrest at the Sherman Hotel and then, when Torrio thought that the O’Donnells had cooled off some, ordered McErlane's unconditional release.   The Chicago public went wild and called for Crowe's resignation, so to shut them up and make the obvious less obvious, Crowe sought a grand jury indictment for McErlane, and later one for his top gunner Danny McFall for the Keane and Meeghan murders. An assistant States Attorney later dropped the cases.  A few days after the Morrie Keane killing, they killed another O'Donnell gunner named Phil Corrigan as he made a beer run. Then they got Walter O'Donnell and his imported New York gunman Harry Hasmiller in a running gun battle.
   The war of the O'Donnells and the Torrio organization went on until 1925. On September 25 1925, almost two full years after the war had begun; McErlane introduced the Tommy gun to underworld murder when he pulled off a drive by shooting against spike O'Donnell as he loitered on the corner of Sixty Third and Western Avenues. McErlane, unfamiliar with the power of the violate weapon, missed every shot.
   McErlane and his Tommy gun were back a month later to shot up Spike's car and wound brother Tommy who made the mistake of sitting in the automobile when
McErlane filled it full of holes.  That was enough for Spike O'Donnell. One of his brothers was dead and Frankie McErlane had personally killed five of his men. After having been shot at ten times and hit twice he quite the gang wars and left Chicago for two years "Life with me is just one bullet after another one, I've been shot at and missed so often, I've a notion to hire out as a professional target" 
   Frankie McErlane "the most brutal gunman who ever pulled a trigger in Chicago."   Frankie bragged that he murdered at least nine men, a woman and two dogs and is credited with introducing the Thompson sub-machine gun to Chicago's bootleg wars.
    McErlane's first arrest came in 1911. In June 1913, he was sent to Pontiac Prison after he was convicted of being part of an automobile theft ring. Paroled in March 1916, eight months later he would be arrested for accessory to murder in the death of an Oak Park police officer. Sent to Joliet prison, he escaped in 1918, but still served less than three years for the murder.
  On May 4, 1924 McErlane was in a bar in Crown Point, Indiana drinking heavily with- John O'Reilly and Alex McCabe. When one of the men challenged him to prove his shooting prowess, McErlane pulled out his revolver and took aim at Thaddeus S. Fancher, a local attorney having a drink at the end of the bar and fired a single bullet through the front of his head, killing him.
   On January 28, 1930, McErlane was rushed to the hospital, after being shot in the right leg, above the knee, shattering the bone.
     Officers who interviewed him in the emergency room didn't recognize McErlane (who was using the name Charles Miller) McErlane said that the shooting was an accident, the gun went off when he was cleaning it, a story that his common law wife, Marion Miller, backed up. Some historians hold that in fact it was Marion who fired the shoots; although it’s more likely the bullets came John "Dingbat" OBerta.
    Several nights later, McErlane was still in the hospital recovering; his leg in a plaster cast, hung in the air supported by weights and pulleys.
 At around 10:30, two gunmen, probably Dingbat OBerta and Sam Malaga stood in the doorway and fired several shot at McErlane who was ready for them. He reached under his pillow where he had two loaded pistols ready and returned fire. McErlane was hit in the chest, left groin, and left wrist and the gunmen escaped, leaving behind a .45 automatic dropped which was later traced to Malaga.
   McErlane refused to identify the gunmen telling the police “Look for 'em in a ditch. That's where you'll find 'em. They were a bunch of cheap rats, using pistols. I'll use something better. McErlane takes care of McErlane."
  Captain John Stege ordered McErlane to be transported to Bridewell a prison hospital where police could guard him "They'll kill me if you take me out to the Bridewell." McErlane screamed.
   Nine days after the hospital shoot out, Dingbat OBerta and Sam Malaga, were found dead just outside the city limits, OBerta was found on the front seat of his car on the passenger side, leaning against the door, most of the top of his head gone. Malaga's body was found lying face up in an ice filled ditch. The killer had been in the car and fired from the back seat.  OBerta's wife was the widow of labor racketeer, Big Tim Murphy who was murdered in June of 1928. She had Dingbat buried beside Murphy in Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, each with a rosary in their hand.
     On September 7, 1923, the Great Chicago Beer Wars began. That evening Steven, Tommy, and Walter O'Donnell, along with gangster George Bucher, George Meeghan, and Jerry O'Connor, pushed their way into a saloon run by Jacob Geis, a loyal Saltis-McErlane customer. Geis refused to carry the O’Donnells beer and was beaten senseless as a result. The brothers then made five more forays into Saltis-McErlane salon and repeated the process. It ended in a gunfight in which Jerry O'Connor, an O’Donnell gunman was killed.
   On September 17, McErlane responded by murdering two of O’Donnells men, Georges Bucher and George Meeghan. After that the O’Donnells backed down and the war drew to a close until the following year, 1925.
   Spike O'Donnell hired a few dozen gunmen and resumed his battle with the Mob. At the same time, the Saltis-McErlane gang went to war with its neighbor, the Sheldon gang. The war spilled into 1926 until the gangs called for a peace summit to be held at the Hotel Sherman on October 20. A general peace was declared and for a brief time, the shooting stopped.
    War broke out again on December 30, 1926 when Saltis gunmen killed Hilary Clements, a member of Ralph Sheldon's gang. The war eventfully ended with the near decimation of the Brother O’Donnell.
     McErlane's heavy drinking and his unbalanced mental state came to a head one night in September 1931, when he was found staggering drunk on 78th and Crandon Avenue, flooding the street with machine gun fire, screaming "Their after me1 Don't you see them? They're laughing at me!"    A month later, on October 8, McErlane and Marion Miller were both drunk and arguing in McErlane's car when, once again, Marion, pulled a gun and fired at least one shot at McErlane but missed him. McErlane shot her dead and her two dogs as well, leaving them in the cars back seat.   McErlane, with at least $250,000 in cash, escaped to a houseboat on the Illinois River in Beardstown, Illinois, 200 miles southwest of Chicago.  Almost exactly a year later, in October of 1932, McErlane was admitted to the Hospital in Beardstown with pneumonia. He lapsed into delirium. It took four hospital attendants to hold him down. He died on October 8, 1932, one year to the day after he murdered his wife.

Cacciatore, Victor: Mob extortion victim. In 1984, for whatever the reason, Capo Angelo LaPietra decided to terrorize Victor Cacciatore until he paid LaPietra to leave him alone. Cacciatore was a Chicago attorney, real estate developer, Chairman of Lakeside Bank and a member of Gov. George Ryan's transition team and a civic-minded philanthropist.   In the 1980s, Cacciatore was being extorted for $5 million dollars by the mob. Somebody put the head of a dog on his son's car and shot out his back windshield. Cacciatore called the police about the incidents but refused to tell police at the time who was who was extorting him.  Instead, Cacciatore went to corrupt 1st Ward Alderman Fred Roti, a made member of the Mafia, whom he knew through business. Shortly afterwards the extortion demand dropped to $200,000.  Cacciatore later admitted in court that he had some familiarity with mob figures and had lived next door in River Forest to Tony Accardo. When shown the so-called Last Supper photo of Accardo, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, Jackie "The Lacky" Cerone and others, Cacciatore was able identify a number of them. But on the witness stand, Cacciatore
 still could not identify those extorting him nor did he recall telling investigators years ago that by naming names he would be “Signing his own death warrant.”

Cutler, Mike: Born 1979. Died 1998.Cutler was a witness scheduled to testify in the March 21, 1997 savage beating of a Black child named Lenard Clark at the hands of Frank Caruso, then 19, the son of Frank "Toots" Caruso, an alleged Mob and Mafia power broker. On May 16, 1998, Cutler had just dropped off friends in the 5900 block of West Erie Street about 12:30 a.m. when two gunmen in dark clothes walked up to the car, announced a robbery and shot Cutler once in the chest, killing him.

Centracchio, Anthony: In the 1980s, police suspected that Centracchio ran part of Joe Lombardo’s vice and gambling operation. Centracchio's brother Henry, a convicted felon and bank fraud, was convicted in a  narcotics deal in 1988.

Clementi, Louis: Leader of the 42 gang in the summer of 1933. On June, 1933, Clementi and nine other members of the 42 gang were arrested for robbing the Main State Bank in Chicago on June 8, 1933, of $16,000. The gang rushed into the bank with guns drawn and handkerchiefs covering their faces

Clementi, Pasquale AKA Patsy. (Brother of Louis) 1651 North 5th Ave. Melrose Park. A former 42 member. In January of 1966, he fled town rather than answer a grand jury’s question about loan sharking in Chicago. In the 1960s, Clementi was said to be working in Leo Manfredi’s-Rocco Pranna’s loan sharking operation   

Chiaramonti Anthony AKA Tony the Hatchet: Anthony Chiaramonti was murdered on Thanksgiving Day 2001.    Chiaramonti climbed the mob's ranks as a violent street enforcer and debt collector in the South Side rackets. Chiaramonti worked his way up as an enforcer and debt collector at east since 1967, and was known for stealing goods off trucks in highway "Stick and run" robberies.
     His nickname, the Hatchet, came from his reputation of wielding a hatchet on people.
     Chiaramonti "bragged to his colleagues about stabbing a guy in the neck with a fork and putting another guy who owed him money on a hot griddle," a mob lawyer recalled "He was just an all-around sweet guy."
     With another indebted restaurant owner, Chiaramonti picked the man up and slammed him down into a hot griddle. And there were not one, but two stories of men over the years soiling themselves when they faced the fearsome mobster, whose eyes would bulge out in anger.
     "He was just vicious," one law enforcement source said.
     Chiaramonti's loansharking operation, which charged 260 percent interest, lent money to gamblers, small businessmen and hoodlums alike.
     In 1993, Anthony LaBarbera, a trucking company operator, who borrowed $5,000 from Chiaramonti wore a hidden tape recorder for the FBI.
     In 1988 LaBarbera needed money to purchase insurance and license plates for his trucking company. Unable to get a bank loan, one of his employees, Vince Falzone, explained that he had worked for Zizzo and Chiaramonti and could check into a juice loan. Chiaramonti met LaBarbera and loaned him $5,000 and instructed LaBarbera to drop off $250 in interest payments each week in envelopes addressed to "LT," a reference to Little Tony Zizzo.
     After making payments on the loan (often with cash fronted by the FBI) for 13 months, LaBarbera fell behind. Chiaramonti called him late at night, informed him that Zizzo was "hollering about the money being late," and warned LaBarbera to pay up "or else."
     LaBarbera was recorded telling Chiaramonti that he was late with a payment because a client owed him money, Chiaramonti said: "When you got your foot on his throat, then tell him now to go get my money,"
     "Don't grab me around the throat,'' pleaded Anthony LaBarbera.
     "You miss one more appointment,'' Chiaramonti said, "and I'll bury you.''
     Chiaramonti choked LaBarbera and threatened to "fuckin' shoot" him, "break [his] fuckin' head," "bury" him, and "fuckin' knock [his] head off." Chiaramonti also threatened to put LaBarbera, who had a serious heart condition, "right back in the hospital." LaBarbera was so scared that he avoided Big Tony by having undercover FBI agents drop off his next few juice loan payments.
     The South Side operation was crippled by the 1993 federal racketeering convictions of its bosses, including Chiaramonti, Wings Carlisi, James Marcello worked as Carlisi's chauffeur, emissary, and all-around right-hand man. Third in command was Anthony Zizzo. Known on the street as "Little Tony," Zizzo supervised both Frank Bonavolante, the head of the crew's gambling operations, Brett O'Dell, who helped Chiaramonti with the juice loan operation, and Richie Gervasio, who took bets for the crew and sometimes collected gambling debts. Two of the crew pled guilty and the rest took their chances with a jury. All but one were convicted, and six appealed.
     The crew ran an extensive network of "offices," which were often relocated to throw government agents off of the trail; the crew took bets on professional sports and horse races. It was a lucrative enterprise.
     One of its bookies, Kenton "Kappy" Pielet, took in between $75,000 and $125,000 in wagers on an "average" weekend. And another office--one which cost over $500,000 to open-- had a weekly payroll of around $30,000 and served a 800 customers.
     Because all bets, no matter how large, were accepted on credit, the crew prided itself on its effective debt-collection practices and held its bookies personally responsible for their customers' past-due accounts.
     When a gambler named Anthony Pape failed to make good on his $15,000 gambling debt, Frankie Bonavolante let him know that "not even God was going to help you" while a hood with Bonavolante threatened to beat the completely bald Pape until his "head turns so black and blue people would think you got hair" Pape eventually convinced his father to cash in a $16,000 retirement annuity to save himself.
     Gambler Michael Huber laid $60,000 in bets over 18 months with crew bookies Kappy Pielet and Thomas Briscoe. When Huber failed to make timely payments on a $2,500 losing wager, however, Gervasio revoked his betting privileges. Huber argued and Gervasio had him taken out to the parking lot by two thugs and worked over. He was told to return in a week with a payment. When he failed to show for the meeting, two thugs were sent to collect him and deliver him to Gervasio. Huber was checked for a wire, choked, and threatened. He was so frightened that he defecated in his pants.
     Huber managed to avoid the crew for almost 2 years. Then a collector named Joe Cumbo knocked on his door to collect his debt. When Huber explained that he couldn't pay, Cumbo ordered Huber sell his wife's car. but Huber refused. Two days later someone threw a flare into the car, burning its back seat.
     Released from prison in 1998, Chiaramonti, at age 65, was the first of the old leaders back on the streets.
     As the recognized head of the South Side's loansharking operation, Chiaramonti was widely feared. Chiaramonti, who ran loansharking operations for Wings Carlisi before his death, reported directly to Anthony "Little Tony" Zizzo, the number three man in the Outfit in the 1990s under James J. Marcello.
     The area that Chiaramonti controlled had been under John "Johnny Apes" Monteleone, who, for decades ran the rackets in Cicero, the South Side, the South suburbs, the 26th Street area, Bridgeport and Chinatown, which are traditionally among the mob's most lucrative.
     When Monteleone died of natural causes in January 2001, Chiaramonti made his move for complete domination of the areas sports bookmaking, loansharking and labor racketeering.
     There is some speculation that street crew bosses, who were supposed to be under Chiaramonti's jurisdiction, refused to acknowledged his authority.
     In some part this is due to the fact that the old organizational structure no longer exists, and that Johnny Ape Monteleone's death has sparked an "every man for himself" attitude, something new for the Chicago mob.
     On November 22, 2001, Chiaramonti was gunned down in the vestibule of a west suburban chicken restaurant.
     Chiaramonti backed his new $67,000 BMW into a parking space across from the restaurant's entrance and then stopped to use a pay phone in the small vestibule at the entrance. As he was walking back toward his car, a van pulled into his path. A passenger in dark clothes and possibly wearing a hood leaped out and confronted Chiaramonti. The two men argued loudly. Chiaramonti then turned and ran for the restaurant. As he entered the 4x4 vestibule enclosed by double glass doors, the man from van followed and shot Chiaramonti five times, once in the chest, once in the arm and three times in the head. The confrontation lasted roughly 30 seconds.
     One account had him running the mob's operation in Cicero.

Colosimo, Jim Born 1871 Died 1920) AKA Big Jim, Diamond Jim.  The Chicago mob was born out of the Levee one of the city’s first red light districts.   Officially the area had at least 50,000 prostitutes at a time when Chicago, city wide, had 81,000 known prostitutes and 52,000 known Procurers. During the first decade of the twentieth century, the Levee held approximately 1,020 brothels that employed about 5,000 people and produced about $60,000,000 a year in revenues.  Reporter and author Jack Lait wrote: “There were no respectable enterprises... (it was) a city within a city dedicated to drinking, dancing and catering to every lechery and lust that man or woman could contrive.”
    Colosimo came to manhood in the Levee. He arrived there at age 17, from Cosenza in Calabria, Italy. He shifted back and forth between an honest working mans chores and a criminal’s world. He worked as a bootblack and burglar, a water carrier for the railroads and a pickpocket.
    In 1902, while making his rounds to the brothels as a collector for the local political/ gangster bosses, Colosimo met Victoria Moresco, a fat, unattractive, middle-aged Madam who operated four second-rate brothel on Armour Avenue.
Victoria fell in love with Colosimo and Colosimo, seeing the potential in taking over Victoria’s operations, married her a week later.
    By 1903, Colosimo had added at least thirty-five more brothels to his wives chain, almost all of them one and two dollar brothels although he did open two better classed operations, the Saratoga and the Victoria, named after his wife.  Colosimo was making a fortune.  For every two-dollar the prostitutes earned, he took $1.20 plus something off of each drink purchased. He expanded into labor racketeering, taking over several unions and skimming thousands each month from their treasury. By 1915 he was a millionaire. He started wearing hand-tailored suits and dozens of diamonds, on his belt, his shirt studs, his rings and cufflinks and was a power almost equal to the levels political bosses, Kenna and Coughlin. Colosimo had two limousines driven by uniformed chauffeurs. He bought a mansion for his father and one for himself that he crammed with leather-bound books and imported Turkish rugs. While the up-and-coming hoods in New York styled themselves after Arnold Rothstein’s (1882-1928) demure style of clothes and speech, in Chicago a young hood fashioned himself after Colosimo in his expensive shiny clothes. 
Flush with cash, Colosimo opened his own place in 1910, a gaudy café on Wabash near 22nd Street where he held court, swaggered and played the host—a role he relished.  It was the gaudiest yet the most elegant place in town. It had a mahogany and glass bar, the dining room had green velvet wallpaper and trim gilded ceiling in sky blue with solid gold chandeliers over the dance hall floor which raised and lowered by a hidden hydraulic lift.
   The basis for all of Colosimo’s money was a massive prostitution racket, but the ongoing problem in the Levee was that there were never enough women to meet the demand. The turnover was amazing, the women who didn’t commit suicide, stab each other, get killed by a Procurer or a customer, or overdose, usually lasted about three years.  To keep the stock up, Colosimo resorted to white slavery, kidnapping young girls, dragging them into the Levee, raping them and then “turning them out” to brothels  or street Procurers for a hefty price. Colosimo made at least $600,000 a year from the slave trade alone, an incredible amount of money in 1904. 
     The Levee’s leading white slaver was Maurice Van Bever, a vain dandy who drove about the Levee in a red carriage driven by top hatted coachmen. Van Bever and his wife Julia ran two of their own brothels on Armour Avenue and it was natural that he should meet Colosimo. The two decided to go into the white slavery business together in 1903 and set about the business of making contact stations in New York, St. Louis and Milwaukee.  Over the next six years and up until 1909, they imported no less than 600 young women for sale into the Levee and other fleshpots across the country.
    It was at this point, about 1909, that Colosimo and his flashy lifestyle came to the attention of another Italian import, the Black Hand. The Black Hand was not the Mafia or even organized crime. Rather it was an ancient extortion racket run by professional criminals. Their methods were simple.
     They would decide on a victim, send a long, flowery message demanding payment.  When Colosimo got his letter from the Black Hand he took it seriously. In one period in Chicago, between 1895 and 1925, there were a reported 400 Itlo-Americans gunned down by the Blackhanders, hundreds if not thousands more paid off.  But Colosimo was one of those who paid off, $5,000 at first. Colosimo knew what was coming next; he too had once been a Black hander. More demands would come and the price would go up with each demand. There was nothing his political contacts could do for him, even with the entire police force at their disposal. Colosimo didn’t have the stomach for a fight anymore, so he sent for his nephew in New York, Johnny Torrio. (1882-1957) In New York Torrio ran a gang called the James Street Outfit and was tied into the City’s political machine, Tammany Hall.
     Torrio had entered the New York rackets under the guidance of a gang leaders named Paul Kelly when Kelly’s gang was locked in a vicious gang war with a hoodlum named Monk Eastman, who was accurately known as “The Terror of the East Side”    
When Monk Eastman showed up at the New York National Guard recruiting station in October 1917, the Doctors on duty were pained at the razor, knife and bullet scars on his body. He had bullet entry wounds in his stomach which he proudly told Doctors that he had plugged with his own fingers to stop the bleeding, his nose was broken nose, mashed flat actually, cauliflower ears although the ears were barely their, having been nearly slashed off of him in various street brawls years before, and lacerations almost covering his face and body including his ankles another that ran up to his barrel chest and crisscrossed his neck and face.
    Monk Eastman (Also known as Joseph Morris, William Delaney, Edward Delaney, Joe Marvin, and Joe Marrio.) was born Edward Osterman in Brooklyn New York in 1873 (The exact date is known) to respectable Jewish immigrant parents who ran a Kosher restaurant. Eastman had an odd, considering his violent and dangerous disposition, and extreme fondness for cats and birds and eventually opened a pet shop on Broome Street in Lower Manhattan. He was what one might describe as an early animal activist and grew so attached to his animal that he never sold any of them. Instead, the shop eventually became a drop off center for strays.
     In about 1895, the Monk moved to lower Manhattan and managed to become a City Sheriff of New Irving Hall. Sheriffs then were more or less legally armed bouncers in bars owned by politically connected Hoods. He developed into a slovenly dresser, wearing the standard hoodlum bowler hat that was several sizes to small for his head (It was where pistols were kept) He developed a clipped, slang filled speech, to match the blackjack tucked into belt and a pair of brass knuckles on his hands. Younger hoods began to imitate his slang and sloppy clothes.
    After a few years, Monk quit his position the Sheriffs office and formed his own gang, the Eastman’s who were headquartered in a dive  saloon on Chrystie street, near the bowery. Here the gangsters stockpiled slung-shots, revolvers, blackjacks, brass knuckles, and weapons of the street. Although he was known by a number of alias’ he was known best as Monk Eastman, and he lent this name to his gang, the Eastman’s, 1200 strong, a band of incredibly tough muggers, safe crackers, pickpockets, and second story burglars who eventually moved into the more lucrative fields of gambling, extortion and prostitution  The Eastman gang ruled the area between the Bowery and 14th Street which was, for decades, a no-mans land where pitched battles were fought weekly between the Eastman’s and their rivals, the Yakey Yakes, the Red Onions and Paul Kelly’s Five Pointers.   Early on, while still in his teens, the Monk worked as a bouncer in the New Irving dance hall and carried a sawn-off baseball bat with a notch for every head he cracked. It was a rough place and Monk bragged that he had once beaten up a customer for no other reason than to add a new notch and “make it an even 50”.
He looked on it as practice since the Eastman gang carried out beatings for money, $15.00 (Which was much more then it is today) for a sound beating, a beating and a stabbing went for $25 and a murder, without the beating went for a flat $100.
He had a fondness for the black jack and bragged about his skills with the weapon but was always careful to point out that he had never blackjacked a woman or, to his knowledge murdered a women. He did however admit to beating women and blackening their eyes.
He was vicious and so active at his trade that the ambulance drivers at the Bellevue hospital to nickname the Accident and Emergency Ward the “Eastman Ward”.
At the height of it’s power, about 1890 to 1905, the Eastman gang had approximately 1200 members and a territory between Monroe Street, 14th Street, the Bowery and the East River.
It’s more source of money and protection came from contracts from
corrupt Democrat politicians William “Boss” Tweed and Richard Croker
of the equally corrupt Tammany Hall. For a fixed flat rate and
consideration in legal matters, the Eastman’s intimidated voters, beat up the enemy and rounded up “Repeat voters”, people who roamed the voting polls voting several times a day under assumed names.
Working the same area was Eastman’s rival, a dapper and intelligent little thug named Paulo Vaccerelli aka Paul Kelly, leader of the equally vicious and predominantly Italian Five Points Gang.
Vaccarelli was born around 1876 in Italy and later immigrated with his family to New York City. He established himself first as a professional bantam-weight boxer (Where he changed his name, Irish fighters generally drew a bigger ticket) and then later as a gang leader.
Unlike the rough and ignorant Eastman, Paul Kelley dressed well, in a conservative fashion, he was, by standards of the day, well-educated, soft-spoken. He could speak English, Italian, Spanish and some French and went out of his way not to act as a gangster.
As a result, unlike Eastman, he was able to move easily among the different levels of society and was more effective as a leader. He held court at the New Brighton Dance Hall, essentially a dive on Great Jones street and like Big Jim Colosimo’s place in Chicago, it was frequented by the New York upper class when they felt the need to slum. But in the end, Kelley was no better or no worse then Eastman, he was a street punk, a thief and a pimp who headed a terrorist gang of dangerous thugs thought to number at least 1500 strong that controlled the area between Broadway and the Bowery, and Fourteenth street, City Hall Park, the Five Points District in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, Chatham Square, the Bowery and part of Chinatown. From his gang came Chicago’s Johnny Torrio, Frankie Yale and Al Capone.
At the time, the Five Point’s (The name derives from the five pointed star once formed by the intersections of Anthony, Little Water, Orange and Mulberry Streets) was New York’s premier slum, by 1900, the height of the street gangs power, the once massive Irish ghetto had more or less become an immigrant Italian neighborhood. It was beyond poor, it was impoverished and forgotten.
Five Points was, more or less, an Irish neighborhood, but by 1900 Italian immigrants had flooded into the area.
It was lined with slaughterhouses and malaria broke out regularly due to the filthy conditions and the damp ground which covered what had once been a small pond. It was densely overcrowded (About 3000 people per half mile) and filled with violent, senseless crime area.
Garbage and chamber pots were dumped out of the windows onto the streets piling high enough to occasionally cover shoes. In 1832 alone, full one-third of the people of the Points succumbed to cholera. In 1854 alone, 1 out of every 17 people died. It was home to approximately 270 saloons and over 500 bordellos.
Barefoot children wandered the streets unsupervised, most of them dressed in rags, playing on the bodies of dead horses and around puddles of human waste. Their idols were the hundred, perhaps thousands of hoods who roamed the neighborhoods. By age 8 or 9, most of them would be gang members as well.
Five Points was the home to gangs like the Dead Rabbits, Forty Thieves, Kerryonians, Chichesters, Plug Uglies, Roach Guards and the Shirt Tails, wanted murderers, thieves and pickpockets all.
Both gangs grew out of the dirt-poor Jewish, Italian and Irish immigrants who flooded into New York in the late 19th century, for whom a life of crime was often the only alternative to starvation.
Monk Eastman’s feud with Paul Kelly began over a strip of territory between Mike Salter’s dive on Pell street and the Bowery. Eastman claimed domain over the territory from Monroe to Fourteenth streets and from the Bowery to the East River. Kelly stated flatly that
his kingdom included the Bowery and any spoils found in this area.
As the Five Pointers grew in size and increased their rackets, it was only natural that territorial fighting broke out between them and in 1901 the Monk barely escaped an assassination attempt when one of Kelly’s men shot him twice in the abdomen. The Monk lived and the war was on.
Two and a half year later, in the summer of 1903, a street battle broke out between the two sides when the Five Points Gang held up a gambling hall owned and guarded by the Eastman’s.
The heavily armed Eastman’s opened fire and killed one of the Five Pointers. The remaining robbers ran off and regrouped several blocks
Away and phoned Paul Kelly, giving him a completely different version of event over what had actually happened (Kelly had not sanctioned the robbery) 
Kelly rounded up his men and rushed to Rivington Street in a carriage. Meanwhile, the Eastman’s had called in reinforcements and the two gangs clashed in the middle of the street. Fighting continued for almost an hour over a two-mile-long battlefield. Over 100 gangsters took part, some of them being members of an Irish gang called the Gophers, who showed up and started firing pistols in to the fray, not caring who they hit.
In all, about several hundred (estimates rang from 100 to 200) combatants were in the fight that took place over a two mile area, eventually, after five hours, beaten off the streets by 500 patrolman, but the fight only ended when the gangsters ran out of bullets. Remarkably, only 3 people were killed and 7 injured.
The Rivington Street riot was to much, even for Tammany Hall.
“Big Tim” O’Sullivan, paid by Tammany to keep the gangs in check, delivered the bad news. Because of the media attention on the brawl,
all of the gangs operations were going to be raided and shut down for a while. It was all for show, but it had to be done.
To sooth over the political bosses and the newspapers, Monk Eastman and Paul Kelly were forced to publicly shake hands at party hosted by the Democrats.
When war threatened to erupt once more, the Sheriff of Manhattan Tom Farley suggested that the two gang leaders fight man-to-man, the winner gaining complete control over the Lower East Side. Kelly and Eastman agreed, but afterwards there were disagreements over who had won the contest. Monk Eastman was not around long enough to see the fresh outbreak of violence.
In 1904, a member of the Pinkerton Detective Agency stopped Eastman from beating a man senseless in broad daylight on a Manhattan street. Eastman fired off 12 shots at the private investigator and was arrested shortly afterwards. On February 2, Eastman was convicted of the assault and received a 10 year sentence in Sing Sing prison.
With the Monk away in prison, the Eastman’s fell under the command of the far less violent Max “Kid Twist” Zwerbach. For several weeks’ peace reigned on the streets and as far as the Five Pointers were concerned, with Eastman in jail, the war was over. However, as far as  Kid Twist and the Eastman’s were concerned, the war wasn’t over, it was temporarily halted. 
Eventually Kid Twist invited an Irish gangster named Richie Fitzpatrick, an alley of the Five Pointers, to a peace conference and stupidly Fitzpatrick went. Kid Twist killed him immediately. Shortly afterwards, Kid Twist’s lieutenant Vach “Cyclone Louie” Lewis murdered several members of Fitzpatrick’s gang.
Since the Five Pointers couldn’t prove the killing and needed to concentrate on business, the Fitzpatrick murder was overlooked. Four years later, Kid Twist and Cyclone Louie got into a fight in a Manhattan bar with Louis “The Lump” Pioggi, a noted Five Pointer. Outnumbered, 
Pioggi leaped from a second story window to escape his attackers, breaking his ankle in the fall.  Pioggi took his complaint to Paul Kelly and shortly afterwards both Kid Twist and Cyclone Louie were ambushed and killed.
Following Kid Twist to the leadership of the Eastman’s was
Big Jack Zelig, a racketeer from the Bronx who relocated to Manhattan’s West Side.
In 1911, a Lt. Charles Becker of the New York Police hired Big Jack Zelig to kill Herman “Beansie” Rosenthal. Becker was using his badge
to extort money from New York criminals. Most paid, but as his
demands grew more and more outlandish, Rosenthal refused to pay and threatened to expose him, assuming wrongly that the protection money he paid to Arnold Rothstein would protect him from Becker.
   Charles Becker was originally from Sullivan County in upstate New York, and moved to New York in 1888 working as a bouncer for while in the Bowery and gained a reputation as a two fisted fighter who could handle himself. It was at this point that he met Monk Eastman. Through Eastman, Becker probably met Big Tim Sullivan, then a state senator and Tammany’s man in the Tenderloin District (Now the area of Times Square, where Madison Square Garden sits between 7th and 8th Avenues, stretching from West 31st to West 33rd, on the western edge of the old district. Manhattan’s world renown Garment District, home to one-third of all clothing manufactured in the United States, lies partly in the old Tenderloin. ) who oversaw all graft and bribery in Manhattan. Sullivan placed Becker on the police force in 1893.
    Becker wasn’t much of a cop. Several times he was investigated and brought to departmental trials on charges of brutality and false arrest. In 1896 he mistakenly shot and killed an innocent bystander while chasing a burglar and then tried to cover up the shooting by claiming the dead man was a known burglar. He was suspended for 30 days.
In 1898, Becker jumped into the Hudson River to rescue a drowning man. Then it was learned that Becker has paid the man $15 to jump in the river so Becker could be a departmental hero and hold on to his job. As punishment, the department transferred him to the 16th precinct AKA the Tenderloin, the heart of corruption and easy money.
The Old Fourth Ward AKA the Tenderloin was located on the West side of midtown Manhattan between Fifth and Seventh Avenues. During the 1860s, its boundaries ran from around West 24th northwards to West 43rd. This area is considered the original Tenderloin.
   As the 19th century progressed, the Tenderloin extended its boundaries, reaching as far south as West 20th and northwards into the West 50s and 60s. At the turn of the 19th century, the area was populated by African-Americans who had fled lower Manhattan.
New York’s first Red Light District was the Bowery however as the Bowery spiraled downwards the Tenderloin took its place.   The original Tenderloin district; from 24th Street north to 40th, between Fourth and Seventh Avenues housed Satan’s Circus, one brothel after another that offered every type of depravity that could be sold. The name came from the reformers in the 1870s. The best known club in the area was the Haymarket, located on Sixth Avenue, near 30th Street. It opened after the Civil War, and would remain in business until 1913. It was originally a theater, the Haymarket, and then reopened as a saloon where women drank free, while men had to pay a quarter cover-charge to cover the dancing, peep shows and private sexual entertainment in private boxes.  There was Billy McGlory’s Armory Hall. McGlory had once been the leader of the Forty Thieves gang leaving it in the 1870s to enter the saloon business. McGlory’s was the favorite watering hole of the Five Points, the Old Fourth Ward and the Bowery, gangs.
   The bouncers were gang members from Five Points, and they walked through the bar carrying bats and guns. Drunks were rolled by prostitutes. There was also the Cremorne at West 32nd and Sixth, the Star & Garter at West 30th and Sixth, Sailor’s Hall on West 34th, Buckingham Palace on West 27th, Tom Gould’s on West 31st and Egyptian Hall on West 24th at Sixth. The tenderloin was the place to shop in the day and at night the place for gambling, sex of all types and all night dance halls.
   The area took it’s name from a remark by another cop Captain Alexander S. Williams AKA Clubber Williams.  In 1876, he was transferred to the 19th, where his superiors hoped he could make a difference. Williams was transferred into the old Fourth and remarked “ I’ve had nothing but chuck steak for a long time, and now I’m going to get a little of the tenderloin.”
    On the weekends the place was packed with tourists, soldiers, drunkards, prostitutes and squads of police. The bordellos in the Tenderloin ran the spectrum, from cheap dirty houses to expensive madams. Dollar houses were located from West 24th up to West 40th. Five dollar houses littered the side streets from West 41st up to West 60th. A bordello could employ anywhere from 10 to 30 women.
   The most expensive bordellos in New York City could be found on Sisters’ Row, on West 25th near Seventh Avenue. It consisted of seven adjoining buildings owned by seven sisters from New England. Callers were not admitted unless they wore evening clothes and carried flowers. They were provided with fancy clothes, pianos, champagne, food and free medical services. The women were also schooled in manners and culture. They were taught to play piano, sing and recite poetry. And they were allowed to keep a large percentage of the proceeds.
At the other end of the spectrum were the cheapest houses, along the low West 20s. The women who worked these houses were poorly fed, in poor health and poorly treated by both their customers and the owners. Even food wasn’t provided for them free. Most were ravaged with some form of venereal disease and had no access to a physician, unless they paid for it themselves.
. All of the bordellos of the Tenderloin paid protection money to the police precinct. One bordello, located on West 27th Street, kept detailed records of its pay-offs. The figures are startling. In a one month period in the 1880s, the bordello, which employed 30 prostitutes, paid out the following sums:

Saturday & Sunday: additional $1.00
Sergeants: .00 every 2 weeks
Lieutenants: .50 every 2 weeks
Inspector: first-time initiation fee; then every month
Sergeants & detectives: .00 every 2 weeks
Ordinary plain clothes officers: .00 every 2 weeks, plus gifts*
   The police could raise their fees at any time, and without notice. If a bordello was unable to afford the increase, the police would simply shut them down and turn the girls out into the street. Becker became the bagman for the local police captain which earned him $8,000 a year at a time when a police officer made less then $3,500.
In 1910, Police Commissioner Rhinelander Waldo formed special squads to break up the street gangs that ruled Lower Manhattan and somehow Becker was placed in charge of the unit. Becker, of course, used the unit as a legal shake down tool and grew rich.
Then the Rosenthal problem happened.
Big Jack Zelig subcontracted the killing to a thug named Harry Horowitz AKA “Gyp the Blood” who led a group of thieves called the Lennox Avenue Gang.
Four members of the Lennox Avenue Gang shot Rosenthal in the Metropole café. All four were arrested. When Becker was slow in getting them released, one of the men, the getaway driver, talked and Becker was arrested.  On July 30, 1915, Lt. Becker was led to the gas chamber at 5:30 AM. At the signal 2,000 volts were sent into his body but didn’t, some how, kill him. A second higher jolt did. Kid Twist was already dead, executed by the state for the Rosenthal murder.
The Eastman gang then fell under control of Big Jack Zelig.
In 1911, Big Jack Zelig was wounded in a badly botched hold-up in. His two top lieutenants, Jack Sirocco and Chick Tricker, assuming he was dead, left him on the streets. Zelig was arrested, but used his political pull and was released.
Sirocco and Tricker, afraid that Zelig would hunt them down for deserting him on the street, hired a thug named Jules Morell to kill
Zelig. However, Zelig was warned about the murder and quickly murdered Morell. The murder did little but to spark a civil war within the Eastman’s which ended several months later on October 5, 1912 when Zelig was shot dead by a hood named “Red” Phil Davidson.
In June of 1909, Monk was paroled from Sing Sing and returned to the East Side, but found himself without a kingdom. The Eastman’s had more or less fallen apart and the Monk was unable to put them back together again. The civil war sparked by Zelig had taken out some of the gangs best men.   With little else to do, he reverted to pick pocketing and dope peddling.
From 1912 to 1917 the Monk was in and out of prison on various charges ranging from opium dealing, robbery, and fighting. Then, in 1917, at age 44, he enlisted in the New York National Guard under the name of William Delaney.
By all reports, as part of the 106th Infantry, 27th Division, O’Ryan’s Roughnecks, Eastman proved to be a fearless warrior on the frontlines
He was discharged from the service in April of 1919 and as agreed Governor Al Smith restored his citizenship.
   But the Monk returned to dope peddling and street crime. His day was over. In 1918, Monk stole a car belonging to Jules W. Arndt, aka “Nicky Arnstein” as close friend of mastermind of the Underworld Arnold Rothstein who had once employed Eastman as a collector for his money lending operation. Rothstein found Eastman and explained that the car belonged to a friend and Eastman personally delivered the car back to Arnstein and made his apologies.
On December 26, 1920, Monk Eastman was shot and killed in front of the Blue Bird Café, a speakeasy by Jerry Bohan, a corrupt Prohibition Enforcement Agent. Bohan put five slugs in the Monk
Eastman’s army buddies Hank Miller and John Boland, put up the funds for a military burial with full honors at Brooklyn’s Cypress Hill Cemetery. Over 4,000 people attended the funeral, most of them simply gawkers who never knew the Monk.
“Mr. Edward Eastman did more for America than Presidents and generals,” Boland announced. “The public does not reward its heroes. Now they are calling Mr. Eastman a gangster instead of praising him as one of those who saved America. But we’ll do the right thing by this soldier and give him the funeral he deserves.”
The Monk’s corpse was dressed in full military regalia, wearing his service stripes and American Legion pin. On his coffin was a silver plate inscribed “Our Lost Pal. Gone but Not Forgotten”
As for Bohan, he was arrested for the murder and sentenced to prison on first degree manslaughter charges, severed several years and was released in 1923.
In 1905, Paul Kelley closed the New Brighton and later moved his operations to Harlem and Brooklyn where he became a labor union organizer and fought for control of the shipping docks. He died from natural causes on April 3, 1936 and was buried in the Calvary Cemetery in Brooklyn.
The gang he left behind was awesome in its power and size. Over the years of his reign, Kelly incorporated smaller gangs in the Five Pointers such as the once mighty Plug Uglies who he took in with him 1900. It was a tactic later used by Kelly’s student Johnny Torrio after Torrio took control of the Chicago mob.
Torrio fell under Kelly’s control in 1905 when the Five Pointer incorporated the James Street Gang led by Torrio and others. One of Torrio’s bosses was a hood named Jack Sirocco, Kelly’s chief lieutenant, a role that Torrio filled after Sirocco defected to the Eastman’s.
Kelly taught Torrio how to dress, talk and how to set up legitimate
Business fronts.  Initially, Torrio was taken with Kelly but eventually grew discouraged at the endless violence he created while he spoke of peace and prosperity. Shortly afterwards, Torrio was summoned to Chicago to work with his cousin, Big Jim Colosimo.
Taking Torrio’s place were Charlie “Lucky” Luciano, Al Capone, Frankie Yale and others. With the advent of Prohibition, the gang slowly lost power and, by 1922, gradually disappeared.
The Tenderloin, after Charles Becker’s execution, things changed. The Casino pulled out and the cat houses started to close in fear of being brought to trail in wake of the Becker scandal.
Business owners fled the area. By 1921 it was all gone.
As for the Five Points section, a massive federal court house no covers most of the area, an ironic end to the place that gave birth to the American gangster
Thirty-one year old Johnny Torrio arrived to Chicago in 1909 and a few weeks later three Blackhanders, who had been tormenting Colosimo, were found shot to death under the Rock Island Railroad overpass on Archer Avenue.  A while later, another Backhander and Levee regular named Sunny Jim Cosmano tried to extort Colosimo down for $10,000 and was shot in the stomach.
For a while Torrio went back and forth between New York and Chicago, he still had business interests in Brooklyn with gangsters  Frankie Yale and Paul Kelly. Torrio was soon supervising Colosimo’s other places as well, all of which he put on a sound business basis, by cutting operating costs.  He did the same with Colosimo’s gambling dens and saloons and then took over the Colosimo-Van Beaver white slave ring and made it the Midwest’s  largest. 
In 1911, Torrio bought a car, fire engine red, “Pimp red”[6] the police called it and opened the Four Deuces at 2222 South Wabash, not far from Colosimo’s café.
The Four Deuces far and away different from Colosimo’s café;
Rather it was a run-down building with a cheap plywood bar and a brothel upstairs.
Torrio’s office was in the back of the tavern, a simple desk drowned in the paper of all of Colosimo’s various enterprises.  In 1912, Torrio married Anna Jacobs.
They lived in a large leased apartment on the South side. Torrio’s private life was lived miles and worlds away from the Levee, from the prostitutes he ordered beaten into submission, the drunks he had rolled, the loan sharking victims he ordered beaten close to death or the Blackhanders he had gunned down.  He had few if any vices, he neither smoked, drank nor gambled; he ate little, never swore and preferred not to hear it. He arose early each morning, and put in a ten-hour day. He returned home each night at about six for a light dinner with his wife, and except for the occasional play or concert, he preferred to stay home nights listening to the radio in slippers and dressing gown.
By 1907, the Levee was going stronger than ever. It was now at least two miles long, had 119 brothels with 686 prostitutes turning tricks around the clock for an average of $2.00 per customer. But, its opponents refused to give up in their efforts to shut the Levee down. In December of 1909 the Chicago assembly of churches, 600 strong, demanded and received a city investigation, which accomplished nothing. Then, on March 5, 1910, Mayor Fred A. Busse appointed a 30 man Vice Commission to examine the vice situation. Armed with what was then a massive amount of money, a $5000 grant from the city council, and one chief investigator, the Commission sent detectives into nearly every gambling resort and brothels in the city and as a result, reports were written on every possible aspect of the vice trade from how women were lured into the business and so on.  On April 5, 1911, the commission presented its report, 399 pages, to the mayor’s office. The report used information gathered by detectives about the Levee and three smaller red-light districts and stated that the vice business in Chicago produced an amazing 15,699,499 dollars a year in vice or about 158,000,000 dollars by today’s standards.  
Pressures were put on white slavers. Colosimo was a prime target after one of the women he had transported on his Chicago, Kansas City-St. Louis circuit went to the police in New York and turned evidence on Colosimo.  While prosecutors awaited the indictments for Colosimo, Torrio and the Van Beavers, the witness was whisked away to Bridgeport, Connecticut for safekeeping.   Torrio, using his  New York contacts within the Five Points gangs, found out where the woman was in hiding. Several days’ later two men who had identified themselves as federal agents placed the women in the car and drove away. She was found shot to death with 12 bullets, her body sprawled across a gravesite in Bridgeport. Without a witness, the case against Colosimo was dropped.
Still, the pressure was on. On Wednesday, September 25, 1912, on evidence gathered by the Morals squad, five Levee brothel owners were indicted, including A.E. Harris, the Democratic precinct committeeman of the first ward. Then, on Friday, October 4, 1912, the first blow to wipe out the Levee came when warrants were issued for 135 brothel owners, largely because the crusaders wouldn’t let up on the police. The police, largely on the payrolls of the brothel owners, warned the club owners about the pending mass raids and the Levee broke into a panic. The warrants were issued near midnight when the Levee came to life; those who escaped arrest left the city never to return
Things came to a head in the Levee in April of 1914 when a police sergeant with the Morals squad was stabbed to death while investigating a murder.  A few days later, on July 16, 1914 the front line officer in charge of the Morals squad, Inspector W.C. Dannenberg, led a raid on the Turf, a huge brothels on the corner of Twenty-second Street in the Levee.   After the prostitutes were rounded up and tossed in the paddy wagon, an ugly mob appeared and surrounded them and started throwing stones. Behind the mob, sitting in the back seat of his red Cadillac was Johnny Torrio and two of his gunners, Roxie Vanilli and Mac Fitzpatrick.   Inspector Dannenberg took the arrested prostitutes on to the police station for booking and left his officers behind for crowd control. As the crowd grew more violent, the plainclothes police drew their service revolvers and threatened to shoot. At that very moment two uniformed policemen assigned to the Levee came around the corner, and not recognizing the officers from the Morals squad, opened fire.  At that same time Torrio’s gunners, Vanilli and Fitzpatrick climbed out of Torrio’s car and opened fire as well. When the gunfight ended, four of the police were shot; one was dead with three wounded. Vanilli was wounded but escaped. An autopsy performed on the dead policeman confirmed that he had been killed with dum-dum bullets, oversized shells that expand when fired, a type not used by the police but normally preferred by gangsters.
After the shoot out the police came down hard. Van Beaver, Joe Moresco and Vanilli were locked up but set free the same day; Captain Ryan, Colosimo’s own police captain in charge of the Levee was transferred out and a new commander was brought in who finished the closing of the Levee forever. The Morals squad succeeded in closing most of the big, easily raided houses so the Procurers replaced them with apartments, “call flats” and Funkhouser estimated that by 1919 there were at least 30,000 call flats operating across the city.
The Levee’s death was stopped, temporarily; by the election of the mobs own mayor, Big Bill Thompson. In 1915  Thompson won the mayoral race in Chicago with the biggest plurality ever given to a Republican in that city.   After he was elected, Thompson spent the next six months breaking every one of his campaign promises, and, as a result, the city was wide open. The politicians downtown were getting a share of everything because Thompson had invented an organization called the Sportsman club in which every big-time gambler and Procurer, police captain and council member belonged to by paying annual “lifetime membership” dues of $100.  Thompson restored Jim Colosimo’s liqueur license, fired Major Funkhouser and stripped the Morals squad of most of its power.  But even with a friend like Thompson in the mayor’s office, Johnny Torrio could read the writing on the wall; the days of the Levee were ending. Torrio looked around him and saw that the automobile, relatively new to the American scene, was changing everything. The population was moving out of the city and Torrio decided, and Colosimo agreed, that they would follow.  Torrio opened his first brothel outside the Levee in the tiny village, a hamlet really, of Burnham on the Illinois Indiana border and about 18 miles from the heart of the Levee.
The president of the village, “The Boy Mayor” was 19 year old John Patton. Patton was ready, willing, and able to take as much graft, as Johnny Torrio was willing to dole out.  Torrio’s first roadhouse was open twenty-four hours a day with ninety prostitutes working three shifts. By its first month in operation the roadhouse had grossed $9,000. With that success, Torrio and Colosimo opened the Speedway Inn and put Leveeite “Jew Kid” Grabiner in charge.
The steady flow of customers came from the nearby steel mills and oil refineries that had a steady paycheck and a need for some predictable excitement every now and then. Torrio was smart enough to ensure that none of his growing number of suburban roadhouses stood more than a few feet from the Indiana line in the event of a raid by the County or state police.   In that case Torrio, his employees and his guests could avoid arrest by simply walking over to the next state. As an added precaution Torrio set up an unbeatable alarm system for each of his brothel.  He paid gas station owners and fruit stand peddlers that dotted the roads out to his places. If a raid was on the way they called Torrio who sounded a general buzzer alarm inside each of his brothels and the places were emptied. Torrio was so proud of his system that he held drills to make sure everyone understood their duties.  Torrio allowed the Boy Mayor to stay in office, but Johnny Torrio ran the village. He and he alone decided who did business there and who didn’t.
   In 1918, Torrio got word that one of his own bodyguards had been paid to kill him off. Torrio killed him instead and then he sent for Al Capone who arrived in Chicago with his wife and newborn child in the winter of 1919 with two guns beneath his suit coat. Capone began as a $35 a week bouncer  at one of Colosimo’s brothels. He was already suspected in the beating death of prostitute in Brooklyn.
   Torrio was growing impatient with Colosimo. He couldn’t see the opportunity ahead with prohibition, he was too cautious and the organization behind Colosimo lacked discipline. Torrio saw prohibition coming and saw the money in it.  Colosimo was already rich and he told Torrio to stick to the basics: women and gambling. Prohibition would come and go, he lectured, but women and numbers would last forever.  Torrio was rich too but he was also greedy. Before prohibition started he was already making $1,000,000 a year from prostitutes and gambling and he wanted more.
  Torrio decided that he would organize Chicago’s gangs but when Torrio broached Colosimo with the idea, Colosimo was too entangled in his upcoming divorce he paid the idea no mind and ordered Torrio, again, to stick to basics.
  The reason for Colosimo’s absentmindedness was love.  In 1913 the news reporter Jack Lait came into Colosimo’s café and ranted and raved about a young actress appearing at the South Park Avenue Methodist Church and he suggested Colosimo hire the young woman and put her in his floor show. Colosimo agreed to go and see the show himself and when he did he fell in love with 19-year-old Dale Winter of Ohio, who dreamed of a career as an opera star. She was chaperoned with her mother with whom she traveled. Colosimo left his wife and married Dale, telling Johnny Torrio, “This is the real thing.” [7]
“It’s your funeral,” replied Johnny. [8]
Dale did her best to add some polish to Colosimo, and slowly Colosimo started to change. He toned down his clothes colors for more conservative tones. She pulled him away from his Levee friends and politico types and soon the word went out, “Colosimo is getting soft.” [9] which was essentially true.
   When the divorce [10]came through on March 20, 1920, Victoria said, “I raised my husband from a boy to a man for another woman.” She took a $50,000 settlement. [11]  Twenty-four hours later Colosimo married Dale, the couple honeymooning in fashionable French Lick. Afterwards they returned to their mansion at 3156 Vernon Avenue and took Dale’s mother in with them.
According to reporter Ray Brennan, Torrio, whom he recalled as a “little torpedo for hire, Johnny Torrio whose pop eyes and pursed mouth gave him a perpetually surprised expression,” ... had meetings with Chicago’s other leading gangster, Dion O’Bannion, the Genna’s and the Aiello’s,[12] and discussed Colosimo’s pending assassination. They apparently agreed that it needed to be done.
     A week after Colosimo’s return, Torrio phoned him to say that two truckloads of whiskey were due into Colosimo’s café and Torrio would need to have Colosimo there for paper work and other odds and ends. Torrio was very specific about the time; Colosimo had to be there at 4:00 p.m. sharp.   Annoyed at having to be troubled with the details of whiskey shipments, Colosimo agreed to be there and on Tuesday, May 11 he left his home at 3:45, decked out in his usual diamonds and pearls, a. 28 short nosed pistol stuffed in his right hip pocket. He kissed his wife good-bye and promised to have the chauffeured car sent back so she and her mother could go shopping.  The driver noted that all the way to the café Jim sat crouched down in the back muttering to himself in Italian.
     The driver left Colosimo in front of the café at almost 4:00. Colosimo walked through the dark and empty café and went directly to his massive office in the rear and met with his secretary, Frank Camilla and the chef Caesarino and discussed the day’s menu.  They said later that Colosimo looked troubled. He asked them if anybody had called him and when they said nobody had called he looked concerned and tried to reach his lawyer Rocco De Stefano by phone but couldn’t reach him. It was about 4:25. Colosimo walked out to the half darkened lobby where his killer or killers were hiding in the glass paneled telephone booth. The murderer fired two shots through the glass when Colosimo passed him, the first shot hit Colosimo in the head behind the right ear, and the second missed and hit the wall.   Colosimo hit the tile floor face first. The killers rushed out from they’re hiding place, ripped open Colosimo’s shirtfront, withdrew his long leather wallet and fled. Inside the restaurant, there was a place set for one person, who had apparently been eating Italian ice cream with a glass of apricot brandy.  The killer left a message on the check: “So long vampire, so long lefty.” [13]
   The police questioned more then thirty suspects including Johnny Torrio who gave a fine performance as a grief stricken relative, “Colosimo and me,” he told the police, “we was like brothers.” [14]
    Police took in Colosimo’s brother-in-law, Joe Moresco, [15]for questioning, but he had an alibi. So did Victoria and her new husband, they were in Los Angeles on the day Colosimo was killed.  In a citywide police dragnet, police picked up Frankie Yale, as he was about to board a train back home.  Soon afterwards Detectives heard a rumor that Torrio had paid Yale $10,000 in cash to come into New York and kill Colosimo.  Years later, Capone told the playwright Charles MacArthur that he pulled the trigger on Colosimo on orders from Johnny Torrio. But a  porter in the café said that he had seen a man hiding in the shadows and gave a description, which fit Yale so the police brought the porter face to face with the gangster, and the porter changed his mind.
On May 14, 1920, Chicago witnessed its first of many big money, lavish gangster burials. Colosimo’s bronze coffin, itself worth thousands of dollars was covered in thousand of floral wreaths from everybody who was anybody.
Five thousand 5,000 mourners, one thousand members of the First ward Democrats club, two brass bands playing dirges and fifty-three pallbearers, actual and honorary to the cemetery. Among the honorary pallbearers were nine aldermen, three judges, two United States Congressmen, a state senator, the state republican leader and one Assistant State’s Attorney from the Cook County State’s Attorneys office
Archbishop George Mundelein refused to allow his priests to bury Colosimo with any rites of the Church or lay him to rest in a Catholic cemetery.   Dale Colosimo  found a sympathetic Presbyterian minister named Pasquale De Carol to perform the burial rites inside Colosimo’s mansion on Vernon Avenue.
Capone, still an unknown flesh peddler and hustler and well below Colosimo’s station wasn’t invited to the funeral, but showed his grief by observing the old Italian custom of not shaving for three days.
Colosimo’s lawyers could only find $67,500 in cash and bonds and another $8,894 in jewelry in Colosimo’s estate. They had expected to find at least $500,000 in cash. Where the rest of Colosimo’s fortune went, nobody knows and nobody ever found out. That secret died with Colosimo.    Dale Winter’s Colosimo lay grief-stricken in her bed for ten days when word came that she had not been married to Colosimo due to a fine point in Illinois law which required that a couple take one year interval between divorce and remarriage.  As a result of this oversight, Dale had no legal claim to what was left of Colosimo’s estate, however Colosimo’s family did grant her $60,000 in bonds and diamonds and gave another $12,000 to Victoria not to contest the split. The rest went to Colosimo’s father Luigi.   For a while Dale made a try at running Colosimo’s café but she just didn’t have the same touch for the business that Colosimo had so she sold her share to Mike the Greek Potzin who already had an interest in the place anyway.  Dale and her mother returned to New York and became a Broadway success. She remarried to an actor in 1924 and was active in the theater throughout the thirties when she retired to San Francisco in the late 1940s.
With Colosimo’s death, old world crime left Chicago forever. The end of the  Mustache Petes, the old bosses who confined their activities to the boundaries of their neighborhoods, was drawing to a close. By 1933, they would all be gone, killed or incorporated into the Chicago Mob.  

Carey Estelle: Born 1910. Estelle Cary was placed in an orphanage when she was two and half years old by her mother a few days after her Estelle’s father died unexpectedly. Estelle’s mother remarried a few years later in 1916 and removed Estelle from the orphanage  Cary, a one time clothes model,  eventually became gangster Nick Circella’s [16]girlfriend after the hood found her waiting tables in 1932 and was stunned by her beauty.  At some point, she turned to prostitution and dice hustling during World War while waitressing at t Circella’s casino-night spot, The Yacht Club on Rush Street. She later ran the dice game at Circella’s Colony Club Casino. (Located at 744 Rush Street)
 At some point, the Outfit bosses became convinced that Estelle was holding back money from them and that she had been talking to federal investigators about the Bioff scandal. There was also some worry that Circella, who was missing, might cooperate with the government. So the outfit sent a killer to deal with Carey.
  On February 2, 1943, Carey, was found murdered here in her third-floor, five-bedroom apartment at 512 W. Addison [17]by firemen who came to put out a fire.[18] She was naked except for a red housecoat that had been soaked with lighter fluid and set on fire on the dinning room floor. Evidence showed that she had been tortured with an ice pick, a knife, a roller pin, an iron, a ten inch blackjack and brass knuckles. Her nose was broken, several of her teeth had been knocked out, and she had a cut across her throat that had been made with a razor. Her eyeball was cut, her lips were smashed open. There were bloodstains  in the sink and on the kitchen cabinets. A blood stained kitchen knife and pie rolling pin were found next to the body and a ten inch blackjack was found on the kitchen floor.   Police established that at about 1PM Cary had been on the phone talking to her cousin Phoebe Zyrkowski. Cary said “The door bell is ringing. I have to go I’ll call back in one hour”  She allowed her killer in to the apartment and started t prepare two cups of coco. From there, the investigating detective Bill Drury [19]determined, she was beaten and then dragged into the living room and eventually killed. (The actual cause of death was burns not the beating)  An invalid neighbor spotted a man leaving the apartment with two fur coats under his arm. Police hauled in Circella’s wife Ernestine for two hours of questioning. When police asked if she knew about her husband and Estelle, Mrs. Circella replied “Yes, I knew Nick was cheating and I knew about her. Show people are always cheating on each other, but I would not allow it to break up my home” Otherwise, Captain Drury made several arrest of possible suspects in the case, eventually releasing them all. One of those locked up  was John Borcia, Circella’s long time partner as well as Ralph Pierce (Murray Humpreys understudy) Les Kruse, Marshal Caifano and Sam Battaglia.      

Caruso  Frank T. AKA Skids Born December 26, 1911 Died  December 31, 1983 Caruso was a onetime patronage worker for the city street department who served in the US Army in World War Two and received a Purple Heart. According to the FBI the nickname skids came from his "association with the Skid Row element." Another version is that it was  a shorter version of "Machine Gun Skid," which Caruso claimed he was called in his younger days, when he "committed numerous acts of terrorism,'' according to an Oct. 20, 1966, FBI report.   He inherited the criminal empire built by Bruno Roti Sr. after Roti died in 1957. Caruso had the good sense to marry Roti’s daughter Catherine in 1934. However, by that time, according to the FBI, Caruso was already established as hood in Chinatown, hooked in with the mob and got “a piece of all action taking place there. But when Roti died, the riches fell from the sky. The organization Roti left behind concentrated on illegal gambling and loansharking and the craps game they ran in 1962 was one of the largest in Chicago. Caruso had ten arrests on his record, almost all of them for gambling but he was never convicted. In fact, in one case in 1965, the evidence against him simply vanished.
His top men included his brother Morris "Mutt'' Caruso and their brother in law Dominick Scalfaro. He was considered one of the wealthiest hoods in Chicago, if not in the entire underworld.    Roti, and later Caruso, made sure that all of their employees from the gambling business were employed by the city, if in name only, in patronage positions.  Caruso's older brother, Joe "Shoes" Caruso, made headlines in 1959, when a reporter found him working at a liquor distributorship when he was supposed to be at his city job as a street cleaner "I've been through all this before,'' he told the reporter
"It's always the same -- a lot of wind, and nothing ever happens. Wait and see. There still will be payrollers after all of us are dead and gone.''   In 1991, Skids Caruso's eldest son, Peter, and other relatives were caught up in essentially the same scandal. Again nothing happened. Caruso’s family became experts at landing city patronage jobs, usually in the Streets and Sanitation Department. Two of his three sons, two of his brothers, his sister's husband and five of his wife's brothers all held city jobs. In 2005, more than 30 relatives in all, including Carusos, Rotis  were on the city payroll. Skids Caruso died in 1983 at 71.

Catuara James: Born 1906. Catura was arrested on May 18 1951 on general principles in connection with several union terrorist bombings. He owned a restaurant at
2840 South Wells Street.

Caruso, Frank AKA Toots: The son of Skids Caruso and the father of Frank Caruso.
Alleged to be a power in the 1st ward and connected to the 26th Street Crew. Although he resigned from the Laborers union in 1995, over the years Toots Caruso held positions 
President and Business Manager of Local 1006, Sergeant at Arms for the Chicago District Council, delegate to the Chicago District Council,, Trustee of the CDC's affiliated Laborers' Fund, and Director of the Chicago District Council's affiliated Pension Fund.

Caruso, Frank: In March of 1997, Frank Caruso, the grandson of skids Caruso was
charged with beating Lenard Clark, a black teenager who had come into the Carusos' Bridgeport  neighborhood on his bike. Clark,  13 years old, had just finished playing basketball with two other boys at Armour Square Park bordering Chicago's Bridgeport neighborhood. As they left the park, they decided to drive their bikes by the nearby Chicago White Sox stadium, being prepared for opening day. It was just a few blocks away. According to witnesses, Lenard and the other two boys were attacked by a group that included Caruso. They were angry that two Black and one Latino youth were in their neighborhood. The three teenagers split up in order to get away. Two escaped. Lenard didn't. He was knocked off his bike and had his head smashed into a wall and was kicked unconsciousness. He  remained in a coma for a week following the beating.
Frank Caruso was convicted of aggravated battery and sentenced to eight years in prison for the beating.

Campagna Louis: AKA Short Pants AKA Little New York.  Like Al Capone, and Johnny Torrio, Campagna was born in New York 1900 and was probably a member of the Old Five Points Gang. Before joining Capone in Chicago, Campagna did prison time, some in Illinois, for a variety of crimes including bank robbery and parole violation.
In about 1924, he became another of Capone’s many body guards, and, as legend has it, when Capone moved to the Lexington Hotel, Campagna slept on a cot outside his room, armed with an automatic pistol.
   During the beer wars of 1927, Joey Aiello and his three brothers were trying to rebuild what was left of the Genna brother’s gang and take on the Capone organization. The Chicago police arrested Aiello after a bungled assassins attempt on Capone while he purchased cigars in the Levee.
    Several hours after Aiello was locked up, police detectives watched as about two dozen cabs pulled up in front of the station where Aiello was being held and twenty Capone mobsters took up positions around the station as Campagna and two of his men stood near the front door of the station, with Campagna making certain that the cops saw his revolver. The police, assuming they were about to be drawn into a massive gun battle with the Capone mob rushed out of the building and arrested Campagna for possession of a deadly weapon and tossed him into the jail cell next to Aiello. A police detective who spoke Sicilian was placed in the cell next o Campagna and overheard the hood say to Aiello
   “You’re dead, friend, you’re dead. You won’t get to the end of the street still walking.”
     “Can’t we settle this thing?” Aiello pleaded. “Give me fifteen days, just fifteen days, and I will sell my stores and my house, and leave everything in your hands. Think of my wife and my baby, and let me go.”   “You dirty rat. You started this thing. We’ll end it. You’re as good as dead now.” Campagna said. Aiello and Campagna were both released and several days later Aiello suffered a nervous breakdown left Chicago.
    When members of the Capone mob went to New York and murdered Frankie Yale on July 1, 1928 in Brooklyn, police discovered that a few hours before the killing a telephone call was placed to the Hawthorne Inn in Chicago from Campagna’s mother’s home in Brooklyn, near Yale’s house.
    In 1934, Campagna was in partnership with Willie Heeney, a drug dealer and junkie and Joseph Corngold in two gambling houses in Cicero. With an original investment of $1,500, Campagna later told the Kefauver committee that his earnings in the Austin Club and the El Patio reached $75,000 a year.  Campagna was also involved in the 1935 Chicago mob’s efforts to muscle in on Local 278 of the Chicago Bartenders & Beverage Dispensers Union.  In the late 1930’s Frank Nitti, Campagna, Paul Ricca and others were part of a Hollywood extortion plot with Willie Bioff. He appeared before the Kefauver committee when it came to Chicago But otherwise his name was rarely mentioned in gangland after 1940. Campagna now spent most of his spare time on his 800-acre farm near Fowler, Indiana that was operated by their son. He had a second home in Berwyn, a Chicago suburb.  On May 30, 1955, Campagna was deep sea fishing off the Florida coast in a boat owned by the insufferable Underworld lawyer and former Cook County Prosecutor, William Scott Stewart. In mid trip he suffered a heart attack and died.  He was denied the rites of the Catholic Church.

Carlisi Alphonse. Brother of Roy The Clam Man Carlisi, boss of the Buffalo New York Mob. On April 20, 1968 Carlisi was arrested in suburban Chicago for running a betting palor out of a cigar store located at 5021 West 35th Street in Cicero. Police noticed that the cigar store took up only a quarter of the building which had no other means of entry. They discovered that the wall in the store was fake and turned when pushed to reveal a massive casino.  The casino was believed to be owned by Leo Filippi (5046 West 26th Street Cicero) a right man for boss Joey Auippa 

Carlisi Samuel: AKA Black Sam, Wings It’s doubtful that anyone in the mob ever called Carlisi “Wings’ it was a name given to him by the FBI because as a youth, he hustled to park the boss’s cars.  Carlisi was arrested on April 3, 1947 (He then resided at 4737 Polk Street) for taking bets in an apartment over a neighborhood bar. 
    For 1 1/2 years in the early 1980s, Internal Revenue Service Agent Robert Pinta regularly retrieved bags of garbage from the curb in front of the suburban home of reputed mob boss Sam Carlisi in hopes of gathering evidence in a tax investigation. He found what he wanted on June 7, 1982, three financial documents that the government later used to build a case against Carlisi on tax charges and an address book listing the phone numbers of  "Singing Joe" Vento; Pat Marcy, the mob's political fixer and Anthony Zizzo. If nothing else, the information proofed that Carlisi was in contact with other members of organized crime and a RICO case could be built against him.
  Carlisi spent most of the 1980s building up the mob's gambling operations in Cicero.
When Joe Ferriola died in 1989, the quiet and unassuming Carlisi climbed into the top spot, although he had probably been running things for at least six months before Ferriola finally died.  But Ferriola, the one time gambling boss in Cicero and Lake County, never enjoyed a following inside the mob. Chicago police detectives said that from the start that Ferriola lacked the sinister presence or authority of an Aiuppa or a Tony Accardo and that he lacked ruthlessness. Most believed that Joey Aiuppa, making decisions from prison, became disillusioned with Ferriola and forced him to retire.
  Cops came to the conclusion that Carlisi was in charge when rank and file gangsters
like Vincent Solano, the mob's North Side and suburban rackets boss and overseer of Laborers Union Local 1, were observed reporting to began calling on Carlisi and paying him respect.
  While Carlisi may have held the top job, it was mostly due to the backing of Aiuppa. But with Aiuppa dead, most law enforcement officials believed the power went to John DiFronzo, a tough, no nonsense hood who had considerable legal investments including a car dealership on Chicago's West Side.
   Unlike the crude and simple minded Ferriola, Carlisi's method of doing business revolved around the advances in government eavesdropping efforts. He held meeting in places that were hard for the government to bug, a McDonald’s in the suburbs or while walking through the parking lot or in nearby streets.
  By 1998, Carlisi was living in semi retirement in Florida and the government prepared an indictment against him for racketeering, gambling, loan-sharking, extortion arson, and tax charges. When Carlisi returned to Chicago for a funeral, federal agents pulled him off of a plane just before his return flight to Florida. "He laughed at the whole thing," said Jerry Gladden, the Chicago Crime Commission's chief investigator and a former Chicago police officer. "Then agents showed him they had a complete list of his assets, some in relative's names that they were going to seize. That was the end of joke time."
   He spent over a year in jail awaiting charges, having been denied bail as a flight risk.
  Lenny Patrick, a colorful but deadly hood who had been with the mob for decades,
testified that Sam Carlisi and underboss Jimmy Marcello gave him $200,000 in cash to start a loansharking business and that Marcello relayed a message from Carlisi to give an Oak Park theater owner "some trouble" to try to force him to join the projectionists' union.
  The government had recorded more than 2,000 conversations and spent 83 days on physical surveillance and put a total of 55 different FBI agents on Carlisi’s tail at one time or another during the investigation
   Then, in December of 1993, Carlisi, then 72 years old,  and seven members of his west suburban street crew were convicted on racketeering, gambling, loan-sharking, extortion arson, and tax charges. The crew stretched its power from Chicago, to the towns of Bloomingdale, Brookfield, Cicero, Countryside, Melrose Park and North Riverside.
   Carlisi and Jimmy Marcello were convicted of plotting the murder of Anthony Daddino because they were certain Daddino would cooperate with law enforcement after his 1989 extortion conviction.
   They also were convicted of financing longtime gangster Lenny Patrick's juice-loan business with $200,000 in cash, and ordering Patrick to cause trouble for the owners of the Lake Theater in Oak Park during a union dispute.
  Carlisi was fined, and paid the federal government $125,000--his share of a court-ordered asset forfeiture totaling $500,000--and $9,115 for the cost of his prosecution.
Carlisi jailing harmed the outfit because like so many of the older bosses who came up the ranks in the 1960s. Carlisi carried political weight and, said Robert Feusel, executive director of the Chicago Crime Commission. "as the old-timers are sent away, so go with them their political contacts.
   Those convicted with Marcello and Carlisi was a virtual whose-who of organized crime including Anthony Zizzo who supervised juice loan and gambling operations; enforcers Tony  Chiaramonti and Brett O'Dell, Joe Bonavolante,  Richard Gervasio and Gill who operated betting locations and collected gambling debts.
Carlisi died in prison at age 75 on January 1 1997 of heart disease one hour into the new year.

Cerone, John Peter AKA Jackie the Lacky. The eighth of eleven children of Italian immigrant children. He dropped out of grade to work as a runner for the Capone organization. In 1937, at age 23, he was arrested as a  suspect in the murder of a West Side gangster. A coroner's jury reported it could find no evidence that Cerone was involved in the killing. At the time Cerone said he was a waiter in a saloon at Chicago and Hamlin Avenues. By the mid 1940s Cerone had become a chauffeur and protégé of Anthony Accardo, a Capone-era mobster and then crime syndicate boss.
   On face value, Cerone was a smiling, grandfatherly hood. Once, during a trial when a witness could not point him out, he jumped to his feet, waved and said, "Here I am, Howie." but it was a thin veneer that masked a completely ruthless interior. "He was a little more . . . cordial than other hoodlums but just as bloodthirsty," said Jerry Gladden, chief investigator of the Chicago Crime Commission.
    By the 1970s, Cerone was rumored to be the boss of the mob or at least was well on his way to becoming boss before he was arrested and convicted on interstate gambling charges and sent to prison for  3 1/2 years. When he was released in 1973, Cerone was
Appointed Underboss of the Outfit, ruling in a sort of partnership with the ailing and aging Tony Accardo and Joey Aiuppa. 
   On September 23, 1985, Cerone was indicted for skimming millions form the Las Vegas Casino and for hiding his secret interest in the Stardust casino. On March 25, 1986, Cerone, then 71 years old, was sentenced  to 28 years in prison for his role in conspiring to steal $2 million from a Las Vegas casino. He was also ordered to pay fines totaling $80,000, make restitution of $30,710 to Nevada gaming authorities and pay $32,614 in court costs.
   Specifically, Cerone received a 4-year sentence for conspiring to conceal ownership of the Stardust Casino and skimming $2 million in profits from its counting room. Each of the other seven counts brought 3 1/2-year sentences. Those charges dealt with interstate travel to carry out the conspiracy.
   Just before he was sentenced Cerone told reporters "one year or 40 years makes no difference because it will be my death sentence."
  Joseph Aiuppa, Cerone’s boss, hood Angelo LaPietra, Joey Lombardo, and Milton Rockmam, a financial backer for the Cleveland mob were also found guilty and sentenced.
  He was released from prison due to poor health on July 16, 1996. Cerone, a self-proclaimed bookmaker,  died July 22, 1996, six days after he was paroled from prison. He was 82 and had been taking medication for a heart ailment since 1957. He had spent 10 1/2 years in jail and lived six decades in the underworld.
Cawley, Thomas: 621 First Street in LaSalle. Operated the mobs wire service in La Salle County, Ill. In the 1950s. He operated on a net profit of $68,000 (1952 value) from a half-interest in handbook and other large-scale gambling operations in La Salle and Streator.

Curry, Francis: A gambling partner with Eddie Vogel in the 1950s. Low key, Curry owned percentages in most of the larger gambling dens in Chicago. 

Cardinella Salvatore AKA Sam Born September 3, 1868 Died July 15, 1921 A black hand extortionist, he led the Cardinelli Gang during in around 1910-1919, one of the most dominant Black Hand gangs in Chicago prior to Prohibition. His lieutenants were Nicholas "The Choir Boy" Viana (A suspect in at least 15 murders) and Frank Campione.
   The Cardinelli's terrorized Chicago's Little Italy through a six-year bombing campaign between 1915 to 1918, resulting in the deaths of over twenty people and wounding hundreds more. In 1919, Cardinelli was arrested for the murder of saloon owner Andrew P. Bowman and sentenced to hang. He was executed on July 15, 1921, with Viana and Campione. The Cardinelli Gang was the subject of author W. R. Burnett's 1929 novel Little Caesar, and later the 1930 movie of the same name.

Como Inn: A suburban speakeasy run by Matt Kolb, on Ferris and Dempster in Morton Grove

Cruz, Robert Charles: On December 4, 1997, a few days after his cousin, Harry Aleman, was sentenced for a murder, Robert Charles Cruz disappeared from his home where he was last seen hanging Christmas lights from the gutters on the roof of the house. Although his credit cards and bank accounts never were touched, police suspected that Cruz had purposely vanished for his own reasons. Cruz had spent 14 years on Death Row in Arizona before his conviction for hiring three men to kill a Phoenix businessman named  Patrick Redmond and his mother-in-law on New Year's Eve in 1980 was overturned and a new trial ordered. Redman refused to sell an interest in his Phoenix printing shop to Cruz, who wanted to use it to launder money from Las Vegas connections. Redmond's 70- year-old mother-in-law was visiting and died after her throat was cut. Cruz was tried four more times. He was acquitted in 1995 after the jury decided the state's primary witness, a participant in the killings, was unreliable.
   Ten years later, in 2007, what was left of Cruz’s body was found wrapped in tarpaulin and carpet, buried 8 1/2 feet underground in a suburban mob burial ground. In 1988, the police found two other bodies on the site, Robert Anthony Hatridge, an associate of Outfit killer-turned informant Gerald Scarpelli and Mark Oliver, a minor organized crime figure. The site was close to the home of Outfit member Joseph Jerome Scalise. It appeared Cruz had been shot to death.

Cain, Richard: Born October 5 1931 Died December 20, 1973.  Cain was a one time Chicago police officer who worked for the Chicago mob under the direction of Sam Giancana. As a member of the Cook County sheriff's investigators Office, Cain served as a bagman between the police officials and the Outfit while working as an enforcer in vice districts closing down unauthorized competitors to the mob. In 1960, he was assigned as Chief Investigator of the Office of the Cook County State Attorney who was to work with the Assistant US District Attorney in the prosecution of super boss Tony Accardo. Cain was also loosely involved in the CIA inspired Operation Mongoose and trained Cuban rebels for the agency in Miami, supposedly with mob enforcers Chuckie Nicoletti and Milwaukee Phil Alderisio. Cain was fired from the force in 1967 for staging a drug raid and stealing drugs which had been previously recovered from a narcotics bust by the Chicago Police Department. Convicted by a grand jury, he served a four years prison term. Upon release he joined Sam Giancana in Mexico as the dethroned boss’s right hand man. After a falling out with Giancana, Cain returned to Chicago and while acting as an FBI informant, made his move to corner a sizeable piece of Chicago’s multi million dollar gambling operation. However, in all likelihood the mob learned that Cain was using his status as an FBI informant to have his competitors arrested. Cain was also involved with Mob enforcer Marshal Caifano and FBI agents long suspected that it was Caifano and two others who murdered Cain inside Rose's Sandwich Shop on December 20, 1973.

Capone Gabriele (Gabriel) and Theresa Raiola. Al Capone’s parents.    
Capone Vincenzo (Jimmy, later Richard Hart) Capone’s brother (Vincenzo, called James by family members, born 1882.) (Chicago) At age 16, James Capone ran away from home to join the circus and eventually found his way out to the Midwest.  During World War I he enlisted in the infantry and served in France, rising to the rank of lieutenant. There he received a sharpshooter’s medal from the commander of the American Expeditionary Force, Gen. John J. Pershing.   Returning from Europe, he moved to Homer, Neb., where he Took the name Richard Hart (after a popular silent-movie cowboy star of that time.)  He married in 1919 and had four sons, and became a Prohibition agent in 1920, earning them name "Two-Gun" Hart.  In 1924 the newspapers reported that that Hart was related to the Al Capone, a revelation that caused Hart and his family to leave Homer. In 1926 Hart became a special agent of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He moved to a Cheyenne Indian reservation in South Dakota, where, during the summer of 1927, he served as a bodyguard for President Calvin Coolidge when the President and his family vacationed in the Black Hills.   In December of 1933, Hart accepted a position as a justice of the peace but the pay was low and he was forced to contact his Brother Al in Chicago and ask for help. Brother Ralph insisted that Hart to travel to the Capone family summer home in Mercer, Wis. where there was a short reunion.   In the early 1950s, to his surprise, Hart was called to testify at Ralph Capone’s income-tax evasion trial involving because Ralph, without informing Hart, had listed him as the owner of his Mercer home. He died of natural causes on Oct. 1, 1952 at age 60.
Capone Raffalo (Ralph) Al Capone’s brother    -Ralph Capone (Rafaela. AKA Bottles. Born in 1894, in Italy.) Ralph followed brother Al to Chicago to work for Johnny Torrio, probably arriving there in 1920 or early 1921. For a while Ralph shared an apartment with Al and his wife and newborn son. Considered the least intelligent of the Capone family, he was, however, Al’s right-hand man and most trusted advisor. When Al Capone would fall into one of his frequent Drug/Alcohol rages, only Ralph had the ability to calm him down and sober him up.
   When the federal government decided to crack down on the Capone organization, it chose Ralph as its test case. In October of 1929, a grand jury returned seven indictments against him for failing to file income-tax returns and for defrauding the federal government.
On October 8, the U. S. Treasury department made a splashy affair out of its Ralph’s case by arresting him as he sat ringside at a boxing match, leading him away in handcuffs.    While out on bail, Ralph made the blunder of continuing to run the Capone beer empire over the phone at the Montmartre Café where Prohibition Eliot Ness had recently tapped the telephone lines. In April 1930 Ralph was convicted of tax evasion and faced a prison term and a $40,000 fine. Through appeals, Ralph was able to stave off going to prison until November 1930. However, he eventually served a three-year term at Leavenworth federal prison.   Since Ralph’s test case had been a success, the government the same strategy to go after the rest of the Capone leadership, eventually jailing Jake Guzak and Frank Nitti on income tax charges.
   After Al’s conviction on income-tax evasion in 1931, Ralph’s position inside the Chicago mob diminished greatly. His marriage ended in divorce, as did a second marriage and he spent the ext two decades stumbling from one low paying position to another.
    In 1950 he was called to Washington D. C. to appear before the Kefauver hearings where he answered a few questions about his days as a bootlegger. When the committee chair asked how he spent his time when he went to Miami.
"At the dog tracks," Ralph replied.
"When you showed up they rolled out the red carpet for you, didn’t they?" asked a committee member.
"When I went there they were out of red carpet," Ralph responded. [20]
     Shortly after his testimony, his 33-year-old son Ralphie committed suicide. The IRS took no mercy and began an investigation of Ralph’s finances anyway, which he survived with out any jail time. He died on November 22, 1974, at age 80, of a heart attack in Mercer Wisconsin where he spent his final years.

Capone Salvatore (Frank) Al Capone’s brother -Frank Capone: (Salvatore Capone, born in 1895.) Historians agree that Frank Capone, had he lived, no doubt would have risen to prominence in the Torrio organization, easily surpassing his brother Al’s rise. When Torrio moved his operation to Cicero in 1922, Frank was the gang’s point man there. On April 1, 1924, primary-election day in Cicero, Frank led the Torrio forces in its attempt to rig the local election through force. Chicago police were called in to restore order and during the shot out (another version says police simply gunned Frank down) Capone was shot to death.

Capone Amadeo Ermino (John, nicknamed "Mimi") Al Cpaone’s brother    -John Capone (Erminio, born 1901, called John or Mimi by the family) Never a Capone insider, John worked as a shotgun escort on Al’s beer truck routes. After Brother Al went to Alcatraz in 1932, John helped Al’s family by delivering payments to clear up tax charges. In 1956, John changed his last name to Martin and stayed out of the public eye. His date of death is unknown.
Capone Umberto (Albert John) Al Capone’s brother
Capone Matthew Nicholas: Al Capone’s brother     -Matthew Capone (Born in 1908, named Amedoe, but was called Matthew, Mattie, or Matt.)  In the mid-1940s, Matt was running the Hall of Fame tavern in Cicero. One night two employees got into an argument over a $5 bill that was missing from the register. Witnesses said Matt started rifling through a drawer while the two employees fought. There was a gunshot, one of the employees fell dead (found later in an alley) and Matt ran from the bar. He went into hiding for a year, but when he reappeared all of the witnesses to the shooting in the bar had disappeared and the case was dropped. He died on Jan. 31, 1967, at age 59. Only 25 people attended the service. Two reporters covering the funeral were called upon to act as pallbearers.
Capone Rosalia (Rose) Al Capone’s sister
Capone Mafalda, Al Capone’s sister
Capone Albert: (Umberto Capone, called Albert, was born in 1906.) Albert
served an apprenticeship in the circulation department of the Cicero Tribune after the Mob purchased the paper. Otherwise, considering who he was, Albert’s involvement with the other family business was limited to an arrest in 1929 on a raid on Al Capone’s Palm Island mansion, for vagrancy and another arrest in the early 1930s in connection with a bombing at the home of the mayor of Cicero. Albert legally changing his name in 1942 to Rayola, an Americanized version of his mother’s maiden name. Afterwards, except for a much-publicized case involving an assault on his wife, (For which he was fined $25.00) Albert stayed out of the public glare. He died June 1980, at age of 74.
Cafe de Champion: Owned by colorful heavy weight champion Jack Johnson in the 1930s.

Cohen, Albert Sr: 7229 Sheridan Road Mob handbook operator active in the 1950s 

Case, Lewis: Captain in the Oak Park Illinois Police who was forced to resign in 1965 after his years of deep involvement with gangster Sam Teets Battaglia were uncovered. Among other things, Case had escorted Battaglia and his wife to Miami Beach for a brief vacation.

Cesario Sammy: Cesario was a low level soldier in the Mob who was dense enough to marry the former girlfriend of Mob enforcer and Capo Milwaukee Phil Aldersio after Aldersio was sent to jail. Even though Aldersio gave the wedding his blessings, Cesario was murdered in 1971 for causing Aldersio to lose face in the underworld.

Closet Liberal: Despite his hard-case exterior and tough talk, Mob counselor was actually a secret liberal who quietly donated tens of thousands of dollars to various left liberal causes.

Club De Lisa: A mob jazz emporium and casino noted for its crap games, on South State Street.

Cogwell Henry AKA Mickey Cobb: The last man to hold the title of numbers king was former Chicago gang leader Henry "Mickey Cobb" Cogwell. During the mid 70s Mickey became the first black boss in the policy business since the murder of Teddy Roe. Cobb used muscle provided by the Black P-Stone Nation a collection of Chicago street gangs numbering in the thousands. Utterly unconcerned about reprisal attacks from an aging Chicago mob, Cobb used his position as President of Local 304 of the Hotel and Restaurant Workers Union as his front in the numbers business. Mickey's runners were seen making drops at Union headquarters. Like Roe, Mickey Cobb was shot in the back in front of his home in February 1977 effectively ending the reign of the last black power figure in the numbers racket.

Caldwell, Max AKA Max Pollack. An ex-convict and former Capone organization thug, in 1943 he helped Frank Nitti loot the treasury of the Retail Clerks International Protective Association, Local 1248. Caldwell was the union treasurer. He was thought to have stolen $910,000 in funds although Caldwell claimed the treasury never held more than $62.00.  On August 21, 1941, the State's attorney's office in Chicago charged that Caldwell, Rocco De Stefano, Harry V. Russell, Peter Tremont, Patrick Manno, Milton Schwartz, and others looted the treasury. However, no legal action was taken.   At the same time Caldwell also provided free airline tickets for Ralph Buglio, Harry Russell, Rocco De Stefano, Peter Tremont, Pat Manno, and others, from Chicago to Miami, police allege the money came from the union tills.  Caldwell moved to Miami in the 1950s.

Corngold, Joe: From 1945 until 1950, Corngold was a partner with gangsters Willie Heeney, a former Capone gunman, Joey Auippa and Louis Campagna, a former Capone bodyguard, and Claude Moore, also a former Capone gunner, in a series of large and very profitable casinos, including the Turf Club on Cermak Road, the El Patio and the Austin Club. Pressures brought on from the Kefauver Committee closed the clubs.
Campagna admitted before the Kefauver Committee that  between 1937 and 1940 that his share of the profits  from El Patio and the Austin Club  amounted to $204,000 which allowed him to purchase an 800 acre estate near Fowler Indiana which federal investigators valued at $175,000. A second estate near Berrien Springs was valued at about $75,000. The Committee also found out that Paul Ricca owned  2200 acres near Kendall County Ill. about 25 miles outside Chicago, an estate in River Forrest and  another estate in Long Beach Indiana which burned down under questionable circumstances shortly after the Kefauver Committee discovered Ricca’s ownership

Chaputz: In 1947 Mob lawyer George Bieber won acquittal for two mob bookies. When the trial was over Bieber asked the judge “Now I have a request to make, you honor. I wonder if we can get back the record sheets so we can pay off?”   

Culo: The Chicago mob was represented on the National Mafia Commission, the ruling body that oversaw the activities of the American Mafia, by Sam Giancana while he was Underboss and later boss of the Chicago organization.  But no one on the commission cared much for Giancana. During a commission meeting in New York the mob’s coldest blooded killer Albert Anastasia got so tired of Giancana whining about the New York based Bonanno family that he told Giancana to “shut up or I’ll put my big finger up your culo (rear end) and send you back to Chicago crying uncle”

Cremo: A wheel active on the south side in 1938

Crossroads Hotel: A Mob owned casino in suburban Chicago. Singer Louis Primo appeared there often as personnel favor to Marshal Caifano, one of the casino’s owners. Other owners included loan shark Tony Ross and Dick Hauff who acted as the hotels front man.

The Cyclone A wheel active in 1938 and owned by Ily Kelly

Callaghan, George F: Born 1914. Died 1992. a longtime Chicago mob defense attorney, he represented mob low lifes like Paul "Peanuts" Panczko to bosses like Tony Accardo and Sam Giancana. At one point he represented Mike Potson, the former manager of Colosimo’s Café.

Chumbolone: An underworld  term meaning a stupid person 

Creighton, Andrew J: Resides in Forest Park. A long time gambling manager for Billy Skidmore

Curry Francis, J: 516 Western Ave, Joliet. A long lived gambling boss in Will County.

Castrogiovani, Charles 9306 South Central Ave. Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Carone, John:  2000 77th Street Elmwood Park Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Carone, Frank: Schiller Park Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Cohen Jospeh: 5721 Kenmore Ave Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Cohen, Joe: 4850 North Bernard Ave. Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Cooper, Leo: 5440 Marine Drive Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s

Constantino, Charles: 251 Evergreen Ave. Primarily a mob gambler/ Bookie in the 1950s-60s
Crimaldi, Charles: A one time collector for Mad Sam DeStefano. In 1972 he received immunity for testifying against DeStefano who was murdered shortly afterwards.

Cardi, Chris: Born 1932. Died July 14 1975. The nephew of gangster Willie Messino.  Once a member of the Three Minute Gang. Cardi, a muscle man collector for Joe Gagliano and a former Chicago cop and juice loan operator who was the nephew of mobster Willie Messino, was, according to Robert Cooley, murdered by Butch Petrocelli and Harry Aleman in the presence of his wife and kids on July 14, 1975, near Jim’s Beef Stand at 1620 N. River Road in mobbed-up Melrose Park. Despite repeated warning by Tony Accardo that anyone dealing drugs would be murdered, Cardi decided to go for the quick money and financed several narcotics deals. The problem for Cardi was that he was caught by the police and arrested. On July 14, 1975, three weeks after his parole from prison for heroin trafficking, Cardi, his wife and his three children dropped by a mob hang out, Jim’s Beef Stand at 1620 North River Road in Melrose Park. Two ski-masked Gunmen walked up behind him and fired eight shots from .45’s into his back. While his wife Renee and children, Chris 16 and Christine, 6, screamed, one of the killers kicked Cardi on to his back and fired one round into his face. According to FBI special agent Bill Roemer, when Tony Accardo was told about the hit he said "good job. That will teach anybody wants to go into drugs a good lesson." Another theory for the death was that Cardi was talking to police about the mobs extensive and growing juice loan operations.

[1] Maddox’s brother Billy Campbell (born 1900, resided at 70 East Walton Street) operated a string of stables for Maddox and later, in 1959, joined the projectionists union
[2]  Winkler’s statement to the FBI 1934
[3] Authors interview with Ray Brennan
[4] FBI report
[5]  Romer
[6]  Lait
[7] Lait
[8]  Lait
[9] Lait
[10] Colosimo was granted the divorce on the grounds that Victoria had deserted him after he refused to take her to Italy on vacation in 1917
[11]  Chicago Tribune
[12] Some of the Aiello gang members included Carl and Dominick Aiello, Frank Grundotozo, Cito Bottetto,
Mike Risso and Dominick Tripoli

[13] Chicago Crime Commission
[14]  Chicago Tribune
[15] In 1924 Chicago police questioned James Kilcrone for the murder. Kilcrone of St. Louis claimed that he had killed Colosimo because Colosimo had humiliated him in an argument. He was released after being questioned.  
[16] Circella’s brother Tony, born 1913,  1536 South Austin Blvd. worked for the projections union with Tony Accardo’s son as did August  Circella, (born 1904 of 450 South State Street) August operated a burlesque house and was partners with Dick Hauff in buying the $880,000 Mount Prospect Country Club. 

[17] She shared the apartment with Maxine Buturff , the owner of a ladies clothing store.

[18] Police discovered that two fur coats were missing from Cary’s closet, however her jewelry, including a diamond ring valued then at $25K was hidden in a box and not disturbed
[19] Dresses, cameras, golf clubs and other items disappeared from Cary’s apartment shortly after it was declared a crime scene. Most of the items were returned in secret after Cary’s lawyers threatened to sue.
[20]  KeFauver hearing testimony 

No comments: