BENJAMIN FEIN

aka
DOPEY BENNY
1889-1962

Dopey Benny acquired his nickname from an adenoidal condition, giving him a constant sleepy appearance. Another product of the Lower East Side, there was however nothing dopey about Benny. He had above average streets smarts and proved himself a visionary when it came to organizing the art of the shtarke, the strong-armed man. After a youth of stealing, pick pocketing and other petty crimes, his wayward habits caught up with him for awhile when was sent up to Sing Sing for armed robbery. Upon his release in 1910, he joined Big Jack Zelig's gang and it was during that period where he blossomed from just another street thug, exuding leadership qualities that he would later put to use.

That leadership in question fell into his lap after boss Zelig was shot and killed on a 14th St. streetcar. It was one of the many ripple effects that followed in the wake of the murder of gambler Herman Rosenthal, and the trial of Lieut. Charles Becker that followed it. Gang business could no longer operate in the same manner as it had in Zelig’s day, as there were too many prying eyes from every corner zeroing in on Lower East Side criminal activity. The corrupt nature of police and politicians and their affiliations to these gangs had been exposed, and some Tammany Hall members, once in bed with such gangs and rewarded handsomely, stepped back as well. Fein knew that the press coverage had been too hot on the Rosenthal – Becker affair and new angles needed to be figured out. While predecessors like Eastman and Zelig had dabbled in labor racketeering, Benny made it his first and foremost order of business and excelled at it. After all, he was the son of a tailor.

The Lower East Side garment industry was changing. Tenement sweatshops were giving way to factory - like production lines in buildings all around town up to 33rd st., and the industry was learning to meet the demands of a national marketplace. At the time, New York was producing the majority of clothing for the rest of America. Jews were at the forefront of this industry, as it was the one trade that they brought with them from Eastern Europe that helped them start a new life on these shores. Unions were set up early on to help the predominately Jewish labor force to make sure they were not exploited and working conditions were deemed satisfactory. At the forefront was the United Hebrew Trades (UHT), who in the past was not shy in relying on some of their own members to do a little intimidating with owners when needed. But after some time realized they would need to rely on some outside help for a little more persuading. Enter the gangster and his henchmen. Part of the problem in hiring whom some would deem ‘undesirables’ was there was never a guarantee they would work only for their side. Money motivated most of these men more than someone’s labor troubles, and reaping rewards from both sides of the conflict while it continued was a concern by the unions when hiring these gangs.

Benny Fein was different however. He was a man of principles. I like to think one particular event may of marked him significantly, and deeply affect they way he would conduct his business. On March 25, 1911 a fire broke out at the Triangle shirtwaist factory, housed in a building in Greenwich Village facing Washing Square Park. An unwatched, misplaced cigarette ignited a raging blaze that spread quickly within minutes, kindled by baskets of spare rags soaked in sewing machine grease and clothing materials. It consumed the upper three floors of the ten story building in less than ten minutes. Firemen at the scene were unable to conduct proper rescue operations, as their ladders just couldn’t reach past the sixth floor. Panic had set in for many of the trapped workers; most of them young women, and many of them Jewish. For unexplained reasons, some of the fire exits and doors leading to stairway exits and safety were locked or blocked. What crowds below at first thought were clothing bundles hurtling to the ground, soon realized the grim truth. Faced with the prospect burning alive, many watched in helpless horror from the street as some of the trapped workers started leaping, some holding hands with others, to their death nine and ten stories below. It was, and continues to be the worst workplace disaster in New York’s history. The death toll ended up at 146, and 123 of them were women, who worked more than fifty hour weeks in abhorrent working conditions. Despite unexplained locked doors, a fire escape that collapsed, and unsafe working conditions, Triangle’s owners were found not guilty of negligence in the trial that followed. District Attorney Charles Whitman, who was to be instrumental in the arrest and prosecution of Charles Becker had witnessed the building burn. So did Herbert Bayard Swope, the journalist who would print Herman Rosenthal’s story fifteen months later. I like to think Benjamin ‘Dopey’ Fein was one of those horrified in the crowd of thousands as well, helpless and angry, and vowing to try and make a difference.

"My heart lay with the workers." he was once quoted after refusing an offer of $15,000 to work on the manufacturer's side. He was unable to double cross his friends. His men, ‘shlammers’, broke heads only for the unions and under Benny they kept their loyalty. His operation was on the UHT payroll for four years. He also had ties to the ILGWU, the International Ladies Garment Workers Union. Dopey’s gang were given union cards as to picket alongside regular members so their actions seemed legitimate. He also was involved with the bakers’, butchers’, hat frame and neckwear workers, ragpickers’ and signpainters’ unions among others. Benny was busy. He almost single-handedly organized the practice of labor racketeering and thuggery into a full – fledged business. He drew up contacts and pay fees depending on the kind of slugging and ‘persuading’ that was needed by the unions. Instead of fighting, he created an elaborate system of territorial jurisdictions, delegating work to other gangs. Once contracted, he would sub-contract outside of the Lower East Side, somewhat unheard of in an underworld where most are motivated by greed and domination. Benny wasn’t dumb though. He still got his percentage on every sub-contract.

He also treated both sexes alike, giving equal pay for equal work, a very unusual practice back in the day. Because he used bats, clubs and blackjacks, though rarely guns, women were indispensable to him and served as ' toters' concealing weapons in mufflers, wigs, or a special hair-do of the day called the 'Mikado tuck-up'. Benny’s ladies encouraged nonunion female workers to join the unions with some intimidating practices as well. Of course, not all union members were happy with this scenario, after all, their demands were not always being met with legitimate manners, and a working relationship and trust between workers and employers could never be solidified completely. But, anytime anyone objected to their union’s strong - armed tactics, one of Benny's guerillas would warn them to keep quiet and avoid trouble. Not everybody was happy with Benny and his men, but many probably kept their jobs as a result.

Of course it wasn’t always smooth sailing for Fein and his gang. Rivalries with Italian labor racketeer Joe Sirroco led to many battles along Broome St and other areas. Dopey had led the way, building a monopoly, which was being continually challenged. Sirroco’s crew followed Dopey’s lead but in the other direction, working for the manufacturers. He also had a long running rivalry with Joseph ‘The Greaser’ Rosenzweig, and the labor slugging wars between these gangs would continue throughout 1913 and onwards. When an innocent bystander was shot and killed by accident after a botched set up by Dopey's men on Sirroco's troops, his power slowly began to decline.

Following numerous arrests, his last slip up was in the fall of 1914. Fein confronted and threatened to kill B. Zalamanowitz, a business agent for the butchers’ union who refused to pay Benny his $ 600 fee to protect his striking butchers, saying his job had been unsatisfactory. Zalamanowitz, panicked and frightened, called in the police prior to Dopey’s next scheduled visit. Waiting in the wings, they watched as Benny repeated his threats, and promptly arrested him on first-degree extortion charges. This was nothing new, a few hours in the Tombs and someone would come forward with the bail money, just like they always did, and Benny would be home by supper. But nobody came. Perhaps this time around the bail was too high at $ 8000, which the police had compounded from previous arrests. Maybe Benny was getting too hot for union officials to contiinue their affiliation and decided maybe the labor wars needed one less general. Benny sat and fumed. He felt double-crossed by everyone. Perhaps he had had enough. Benny finally broke down and began naming names. His organizational skills contributed to his thinking ahead, that this day may eventually come, and he had stayed one step ahead. Benny had written every single transaction down, unbeknownst to most of his associates. His testimony was a few hundred pages in length, explaining all the inner working of all the strike breaking gangs, and the unions involved. This led to many arrests of higher ups of both in the UHT and the ILGWU. Twenty -three labor leaders and eleven gangsters were charged with murder, extortion, assault, and riot in the months that followed. The man who designed the empire was able to tear it down as well.

Up until recently, crime historians had lost sight of him after the age of 26 and that last arrest, assuming he had disappeared into the city’s streets and never heard from again. But thanks in part to his grandson, Geoff Fein, the rest of Grandpa Dopey’s life has been brought to light a little bit more. While his 1914 testimony in exchange set him free, it would be a few more years before Benny would fly straight. He was arrested numerous times over the next few years, still active in the labor slugging trades, but in a smaller role. Benny probably didn’t make too many new friends after his testimony and it was probably much like starting over. He had a court appearance in 1931 on assault charges, his first in over thirteen years. Ten years later, Benny faced the courts again. He and fellow mobsters Abraham Cohen, John Ferraro, Herman Fogel, and Samuel Klein were taken into custody after a police raid caught them with a stolen garment shipment worth $ 10,000. He and Cohen were pegged as ringleaders in a gang responsible for over $ 250,000, 000 worth of stolen garments over a three year period. This would be his last trip to up Sing Sing, after being spared a mandatory life sentence. In the years following his release, Benny would stay in the garment industry, but on the legitimate side this time for good, applying his trade as a tailor, which he had learned from his father and had never forgotten. He made his life in Brooklyn and raised a family.

Benjamin Fein may have of walked a crooked line, and his actions deemed unjustifiable by most. But as a young man he was passionate enough to the cause of the worker, which he truly believed in, and was moved enough to try and do something about it. He was a rare breed of gangster; one spared a violent end on the streets, or in the electric chair. He passed away in 1962 from cancer and emphysema.


My thanks to Geoff Fein, Benny's grandson who doesn't feel the need to keep his family's skeletons in a closet, and bringing forth new information to me and others in regards to his grandfather in his later life.

HARRY HOROWITZ
aka
GYP THE BLOOD
1889 - 1914

While the majority of New York’s Jewish community had settled in the Lower East Side, and the ever-expanding pilgrimage to Brooklyn continued; a smaller community was growing in Harlem as well. Escaping the claustrophobia of Orchard, Hester and Grand Streets was a luring and inviting alternative to the problem of over-crowding, with many families heading north towards the tip of the island. Harlem was still in development, growing quickly as the city continued to stretch itself upwards like a rising thermometer. While the streets were a little wider, they were not much safer, brewing with the same criminal element that preyed on its own. On Lenox Avenue, Harry Horowitz’s led a tough company of hoodlums, with muscle as their prime export. Horowitz may have realized early on that he didn’t have the necessary above average streets smarts, and the organizational edge one needs to climb the criminal ladder the way guys like his boss Big Jack Zelig did. Anyone who threw small bombs through windows primarily because, as quoted, “ I likes de noise they make” probably wasn’t quite ready to broker backroom deals with the likes of Tammany Hall. They ran their neighborhood and made themselves available to the bosses downtown, content in taking orders from Zelig. They were thugs for hire, stuck to the streets, and they liked it that way.

Horowitz acquired the street name of Gyp The Blood and it’s a part of early gangster folklore and mythology that characterizes people as more fascinating than they perhaps actually deserve. The name derived because he looked like a Gypsy, due to a dark olive complexion and European heritage. The Blood was in reference to his attire, as a Blood in some circles was regarded as a well-dressed fellow with a bold spirit. While granted with rugged gangster good looks, he also carried a vicious mean streak and was feared and respected, spending part of his time as Zelig’s personal
bodyguard. His modest size and weight (5’4”, 140lbs) belied his brute strength and had an all around nasty reputation. He was well known for his notorious ability to break a man's back over his knee, something he would demonstrate from time to time in saloons on a measly two-dollar dare on a poor unsuspecting soul like some kind of macabre parlor trick.

Horowitz would have perhaps remained a fiendish footnote to Jewish gangster lore was it not for his involvement in the fateful night of July 15, 1912; New York was in the midst of an unrelenting heat wave that summer month, and things were about to get hotter. At about 1:45 AM that morning, Horowitz, along with Louis ‘Lefty’ Rosenberg, Jacob ‘Whitey Lewis’ Seidenschmer and Frank ‘Dago Frank’ Cirofici, were in mid-town, parked across the street about a hundred feet from The Metropole Café on Forty-third street just near Broadway. The street was strangely quiet for such a busy part of town, even at that hour, and they had been previously assured that there would no police in the vicinity. A nervous fellow named Willie Shapiro sat behind the wheel of a rented gray 1909 Packard touring car, knowledgeable of the fact that the men in his rear view mirror were not just looking for a late night joy ride. As the motor idled, no one spoke to each other in the automobile and kept their heads down lost in thought, and waited.

Word reached them from a figure across the street who tipped his hat in their direction. The four gunmen piled out of the back of the Packard and headed towards the entrance searching for cover in the shadows. A few moments later, a portly man with newspapers tucked under his right arm made his way down the steps of the café with a slight puzzled look on his face. One of them addressed him and said “ Over here Herman…” as the four moved towards him and raised their guns. Three bullets made their way into the body of Herman ‘Beansy’ Rosenthal before he even had a chance to realize what had happened. A fourth bullet strayed and embedded itself into the doorframe behind him. Lefty Louie approached closer and leaned over Rosenthal’s body, uttering the words “ Hello Herman…goodbye Herman”, squeezing off the fifth final bullet that blew off the top of his victim’s head. The four scrambled back into the car as it roared off up to Sixth Avenue and took a left uptown. Herman Rosenthal was dead and a city exploded.

None of the triggermen involved realized the implications brought forth by the murder at the time it actually took place. This had been a job just like any other. They were taking care of some squealing gambler for reasons unbeknown to them, nor did they care, as long as there was a payday attached. They didn’t know their driver prior to that evening, and had only met the men who hired and made arrangements for them a month earlier. But they soon found out this was no ordinary hit. The murder of Herman Rosenthal reverberated and shook New York City in many ways politically and socially. Gyp and company were suddenly in the middle of a very complex and very public investigation of Rosenthal’s murder following his serious allegations of police corruption, and the direct involvement of Lieut. Charles Becker, head of the vice squad. Things got hot, so they did like any other good gangster would, and went into hiding.

The one key element anyone involved with the murder never considered was the gray Packard and its license plate. According to some, this was possibly the first ever gangster hit using a getaway car as far as NYPD records were concerned. Willie Shapiro was one of the first to break under interrogation as the trail of the car rental first led back to him and his partner Louis Libby. Shapiro claimed he had never met any of the men prior to that evening, and that Jacob Rosensweig, aka Bald Jack Rose, was the one who rented and paid for the car. Rose walked into a precinct and gave himself up soon after in an effort to save his own skin once his name starting appearing in the papers. Over the next couple of weeks, through vigorous investigations by District Attorney Charles Whitman, more of Becker’s former underworld associates looking to avoid a walk to the electric chair came forth spilling all they knew. With enough evidence gathered for an indictment, Charles Becker himself was finally arrested and sent to the Tombs by the end of July to await his trial. Horowitz and friends were then pegged as the triggermen, and a countrywide manhunt for the gunmen was on.

Both Lewis and Frank slipped and were captured rather easily by mid-August. Dago Frank had an opium habit he couldn’t seem to curb and was under its haze at the time of his arrest in Harlem. Lewis was picked up in the Catskills and brought back to town, where both he and Frank claimed innocence. During the following weeks, the police were still having hard time in locating Horowitz and Rosenberg, and D.A. Whitman arranged a special squad of agents to accomplish the task outside of the NYPD, suspicious the police was intentionally bungling the operation to protect Becker. Rumor of sightings and false arrests came as close as the Catskills and as far as Panama, with many overly eager law enforcers looking to cash in. Whitman had guessed from the start that they had never left New York and he was right. Through some keen detective work, both were caught with their pants down, literally, on September 14th. Gyp and Lefty had been holed up with their girlfriends in a third floor apartment located above a dry cleaner on Ridgewood Avenue, which straddled the border between Brooklyn and Queens. As detectives burst through the door, the stunned duo were sitting at a table in their underwear while their dinner was being prepared. They surrendered without resistance, but Gyp had a specific request. Realizing the case had become such a high profile affair; he was concerned about his appearance during his arraignment, knowledgeable that a storm of reporters would be waiting at the police station. He asked for permission to change into his best suit. He also became annoyed and agitated when he couldn’t find his hat. That was Gyp. He may have been caught, perhaps never to enjoy the freedom of the streets again, but was damned if he wasn't going to look good on his way out. An amused detective got him a spare hat from his car.

While Charles Becker’s first of two lengthy trials was underway, a separate trial in November for the killing quartet lasted only seven days. Despite their confidence that they would be home for Thanksgiving, damaging testimony from Willie Shapiro and Bald Jack Rose had quelled their chances. Shapiro was justified in his fear of any witness stand prior to the killing of Big Jack Zelig, as he knew his life would have been endangered had he done so, as these after all, these were Zelig’s boys. With them safely in custody ,and Zelig’s murder three weeks prior to the trail’s first day, prosecution had finally convinced a shaky Shapiro to come forward. Bald Jack Rose was also brought in from the Becker trial by Whitman, and continued filling in details on the murder arrangements. The jury took only an hour and a half to deliver a guilty verdict. All sat as quietly with their heads down as they had in the back of that gray Packard a few months back. The judge handed down a sentence of death by the electric chair at Sing Sing. None of them were over the age of twenty-five.

Another important factor played into all this as well. New York at the time had upwards of nine daily newspapers, all covering both cases daily since the night of the murder, and the trial and subsequent headlines had shook New York Jewry. Newspaper editors feared they would be encouraging forms of anti-Semitism with daily testimonies and references to very Jewish sounding surnames being dragged through the mud. With mounting pressure from the Jewish community, they reverted to their street monikers of all involved as such to make it all seem less like a specifically Jewish issue. Concerns that public awareness of Jewish crime rose considerably for really the first time, especially among Jews living above Fourteenth Street. The community was doing their best at administrating damage control, as it wasn’t a neighborhood problem anymore. One needs to also wonder how in touch the Horowitz and Rosenberg families had been with the daily lives of their sons, who were apparently shocked to hear of their involvement. A hardworking and religious Mr. Rosenberg had no idea his son was hanging out with hoodlums, and Mr. Horowitz, an active member of the local synagogue believed his son was an excellent student.

On April 13, 1914 Horowitz, Rosenberg, Seidenschmer, along with Dago Frank, were put to death in the electric chair. Despite their inexcusable crimes, influential members of the Jewish community tried to have their execution stopped. It was the first time such highly publicized criminals of Jewish descent were to be executed, and feared the effect it would have. The execution marked a new heightened awareness of the serious criminal problem they had on their hands. Despite all last minute appeals, realizing all hope was lost; Rabbis were sent to their cells to pray with them in their last hours. Dago apparently blubbered like a baby on his way to the chair, while Whitey and Lefty only said a few words. Gyp kept mum until the end. As with all good conspiracies, hearsay and cover-ups, they all clinged to their innocence, along with Becker’s, right to the end. The one key player in the entire affair who could of perhaps provided many answers, and with whom the gunmen kept in touch with through letters while they were behind bars, was Big Jack Zelig himself. An assassin’s bullet a year and half earlier had silenced Zelig, and with him perhaps, also the truth.