Lights Out for Mama Siegel's Blue-Eyed Boy

On June 20, 1947 Benjamin Siegel was seated on a flower patterned divan in a spacious living room whose front door address resided at 810 North Linden Drive, Beverly Hills, California.

Looking around his opulent surroundings, and skimming through the evening edition of the Los Angeles Times, Ben Siegel realized he had come a long way from his snot-nosed days in tenements in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and the rough streets of the Lower East Side. Despite the ongoing troubles with The Flamingo; the boys back in New York; and a harrowing last few days of mysterious phone calls and whispered threats, he was feeling pretty good for the first time in weeks. Seated next him was his friend Allen Smiley, known as 'Smiley the Russian' to his pals. The two were relaxed and making small chitchat since returning from a seaside meal earlier that evening.

It was the eve of summer and calm warm winds passed through the windows tickling the drapes. Upstairs, 19 year old Chick Hill, was entertaining one Miss Jerri Mason. Siegel glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was 10:20 P.M.
His thoughts turned to Virgina Hill. Their last squabble had sent Virginia scuffling off to Paris for a little while until things cooled off between them again. Sure, she was a handful, and sometimes more than not, a pain in the ass. But Benny also knew that she was the only woman who was able to keep up with his ways. And Benny had known a lot of women.
The French called it ' L'Amour Fou'.

Sixty-one years ago, nine bullets crashed through a ground floor window of Virginia Hill's rented mansion, and ended the life of Benjamin 'Bugsy' Siegel.

Much has been written and said about Siegel. He’s by far the most famous Jewish gangster in popular culture. He’s even been the subject of a major Hollywood film.
And he was definitely the most handsome.
Yet, despite the flash and bravado; the money and the power; the women and the wine; only five people attended his funeral.
Actor and childhood friend George Raft wasn’t there.
Long time partner Meyer Lansky wasn’t there.
Los Angeles right hand man Mickey Cohen wasn’t there.
Even his pal Smiley, who watched him die, wasn’t there.
Neither was Virginia Hill.

Siegel, who had been such a presence and force in many of these and other’s peoples lives, legitimate and otherwise, had been granted the ultimate insult upon his demise.
No flower filled procession of black Cadillac Sedans.
No glowing eulogies.
No show.

Guess Benny’s old crowd had nothing to say.

Only his ex-wife Esta, daughters Millicent and Barbara, and brother Maurice were there to put him to rest. The fifth was Rabbi Kert who recited prayers and the Twenty-third Psalm.

Getta outta here!

A brief overview of the life of Jacob 'Gurrah' Shapiro. The final book text will go into more details. Hey, I can't giveaway everything here!

Jacob 'Gurrah' Shapiro
1899 - 1947

In much of the annals of Jewish criminal history put to paper, much has been made of Jacob Shapiro’s sobriquet. The nickname of ‘Gurrah’ conjures up images of a rough and tumble fellow, and the word closely resembles ‘gorilla’ as well if spoken quickly. That would have been appropriate as well, as Shapiro filled out the gangster mold rather well with his thick frame, long arms, hunched composure and mandatory broken nose that sat between two, almost gentle pale blue eyes. Sidewalk stories and street legend has it that more than likely, he earned it from his incomprehensible mumbling in his attempt at saying "getta outta here" through a thick tongue that first spoke Russian upon his family’s arrival from Minsk in the early 1900s.

He began his criminal career as a teen like most, robbing pushcarts, which were an easy target before growing to being one of the most feared labor racketeers not only on the Lower East Side, but also throughout most of New York. His partner was Louis 'Lepke' Buchalter, whom Shapiro first encountered during their teenage years when they both tried to rob the same pushcart. With a little nudge and wink from Mr. Arnold Rothstein, the two came up through the ranks and learned the slippery ropes working for number one labor boss Jacob ‘Little Augie’ Orgen. Orgen, a former member of Benjamin ‘Dopey Benny’ Fein’s gang, had won the longstanding labor slugging wars with his ‘Little Augies’ against Nathan Kaplan aka Kid Dropper and Johnny Spanish. Kaplan met his end in front of the Essex Market Court House in 1923 by a friendly little torpedo that went by the name Little Louis Cohen, despite the numerous detectives and policemen in the vicinity. Little Augie kept his guard up from that point on, with one inquisitive eye especially on the salient Lepke Buchalter, by hiring the notorious Jack ‘Legs’ Diamond as his personal bodyguard.

Buchalter was the dangerous and scary type of hoodlum, whose clear eyed, methodical forward thinking was combined and laced with cold-blooded cunning and greed. Shapiro was the brawn to Lepke's brains, and the two made quite the duo. It wasn’t long before Buchalter was convinced he and Shapiro could run Little Augie’s business better than he ever would.
On the 16th of October, 1927, Shapiro and Buchalter went into business for themselves after leaving on the corner of Norfolk and Delancey the bullet riddled body that once belonged to 26 year old Jacob Orgen. Legs Diamond earned his nickname due to his quick long legged running stride, which failed him that day and left him severely wounded but alive.

The old days were gone. Shapiro and Buchalter’s new order put fresh standards and practices to work, expanding their racketeering empire to bakery trucking, the clothing trade, narcotics and much more. The results shot Lepke to the top of the New York City crime world, aligning himself with the Bug and Meyer mob, Brooklyn chief Albert Anastasia, Lucky Luciano, and brought forth the birth of ‘the Combination’ which the press colorfully termed ‘Murder Inc.’ They acquired the dubious tag of ‘The Gold Dust Twins’, pulling in millions, but ‘Gurrah Jake’ Shapiro's aspirations stayed at street level and he remained out of the office chair while Buchlater ran his operations like a Wall Street CEO.

Special Prosecutor Thomas Dewey had been a thorn in the side of much of New York’s underworld ever since he chased after Dutch Schultz in the mid 1930s. With sights set on the Governor’s chair, and eventually the White House, he had Mayor LaGuardia’s blessing to take on the rackets. New York’s round table of knights of disorder had decided against assassinating Dewey when the Dutchman had first put the idea on the table. Shapiro and Buchalter had been the minority in voting yes, and that loss of vote and the crime boss committee’s decision against hitting Dewey would soon haunt most of them.

Dewey focused on the duo’s labor practices, and soon had them busted and convicted of the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, and they suddenly faced two years behind bars. Even with this sedentary period for the two while they were off the streets, Dewey worked up more evidence up his sleeve on a variety of different charges to have them sent right back into the clink after serving their present term. Word reached Shapiro and he immediately went into hiding, while Lepke, well, his was another long story altogether of almost two years of incognito and games of hide and seek.

Wanted posters had appeared by the thousands across the country with a $5000 reward for information on his whereabouts. ‘Gurrah’ Shapiro first went to Newark, perhaps hidden under the wide umbrella of New Jersey boss Abner ‘Longy’ Zwillman, before heading to the Midwest. The isolation of underground life proved to be too much for him after a couple of months and he started showing up in nightclubs, bars, and making phone calls. He wanted his old life back, and to see his old friends. His health was deteriorating as well. The good life capped by two years of sitting in jail had rounded out Shapiro’s features considerably, and he suffered from chest pains and shortness of breath. Finally, on April 14, 1938, tired of running and too sick to go on, he turned himself in to the FBI.
Charges against Jacob Shapiro included extortion and conspiracy, and he was handed 15 years to life to be spent at Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, New York. He only served nine of those years, during which he’d witness life long partner Louis ‘Lepke’ Buchalter take a seat in the electric chair, before a heart attack took his life in 1947.

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The Jews Of Sing Sing

I just recently returned from a couple of entertaining and informative appearances by author Ron Arons, who was in town for two nights in conjunction with the release of his new book The Jews Of Sing Sing.

The book was initially sparked when Arons was researching his great grandfather, Isaac Speirs, who, to his surprise, spent four years in Sing Sing Prison for bigamy. Intended originally as a family memoir, and a good part of the book details his search for his great grandfather's story, it also morphed into a more complete overview of some of the more infamous, and not so infamous Jewish inmates of the notorious penitentiary. Ron's book is the final result of ten years worth or research.
The Jews Of Sing Sing is now available, and for more details you can go to his website here


Also keep an eye out for appearances by Ron in your area code as they are a fun and informative romp on Jewish criminality and its history.

Lost and Found New York: Looking For Lansky

Today's New York Times featured illustrator James Stevenson's ode to Meyer Lansky. Seems Stevenson trekked around New York with sketchbook in tow, documenting the Little Man's old haunts with present day sketches of the locations, proving us with a charming, brief look at his life.

For some reason the New York Times permalink doesn't to jive with Blogger, so here it is, scanned and posted the old-fashioned way. Jus

t click on the images below.

Lost and Found New York - Looking For Lansky

Today's New York Times featured illustrator James Stevenson's ode to Meyer Lansky. Stevenson trekked around New York with sketchbook in hand documenting the Little Man's old haunts with present day sketches, providing us with a charming brief look at his life.

Looking For Lansky

The First Gangster Film - Inspired By True Events.

DW Griffith's 16 minute film, 'The Muskateers of Pig Alley' was produced in 1912, and is credited as being the first gangster film ever committed to celluloid. It was apparently influenced by the nationwide press attention of the murder of gambler Herman Rosenthal, and the subsequent trials of Harry Horowitz (Gyp The Blood), Louis Rosenberg (Lefty Louie), Jacob Seidenschmer (Whitey Lewis),Dago Frank and Liet. Charles Becker. Griffith was intrigued enough to take his camera to the Lower East Side and cast, apparently, actual street hoods and gangsters from the neighborhood as extras to authenticate his footage alongside his principle actors. While thematically has very little to due with the Rosenthal case, it was the first time the Lower East Side became a central backdrop to a story on film. It's a fascinating window into the past regardless if the use of actual criminal types was just early studio marketing savvy or the truth.

98 Years Ago - Not Such A Funny Day For Spanish Louie

April 1st is generally associated with April Fool's Day, a day of pranks and put ons for some (and my kid brother Marc's birthday!). But the day was not so funny 98 years ago for John 'Spanish Louie' Lewis, when he met his end on the corner of Second Avenue and Twelfth Street. His street career was brief but colorful and he was also somewhat of an anomaly as possibly the only Jewish hood with Sephardic roots....

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The long heritage line of New York’s Jewish gangland has generally been tied to the descendent roots of Eastern Europe, Germany and Russia. It’s the pre-dominant Jewish American denomination known as Ashkenazim, whose ancestors started pouring into New York and beyond in mass numbers starting around 1880. But while Ashkenazi Jews quickly came to define the American Jew simply because of their sheer numbers, they weren’t the first to arrive.

In September 1654, the first twenty-three Jews to ever set foot on North American soil had made their way up from Brazil by ship to settle in then New Amsterdam. They had found themselves refugees once again, spill over results of the Spanish Inquisition already one hundred and sixty-two years old. When the Portuguese re-conquered Brazil in that same year, they were expelled from another continent yet again, the perennial wandering Jew. They were Sephardic, Jews of Spanish and Portuguese descent that during the initial inquisition had spread out to the rest of Europe with a high percentage stopping in Holland. With language as impetus, many others braved an Atlantic crossing and made their way to South America with a majority choosing Argentina as the final stop.

Upon their New Amsterdam arrival, the twenty-three were not received with the open door policy that was to take place two hundred years later. Governor Peter Stuyvesant looked at expelling these new strangers almost immediately, but The Dutch West India Company, with the help of a few well place Jews in Holland, denied his request. It would take another ten years, in 1664, after the British took over and re-christened the town New York, would these Jews be given some standard civil rights, and foundations in building new lives were laid. By 1700 well over three hundred Jews had arrived in the country, and by 1706, they established their first Synagogue, the Spanish – Portuguese Congregation Shearith Israel, which still stands today at 8 West 70th St.

It’s a long shot to say if John ‘Spanish Louie’ Lewis’s descendants were among those three hundred, but he is an anomaly as possibly the only known Jewish hoodlum of Sephardic descent. Lewis was a lone wolf, working independently with just a few men under him. His early street training came as a member of Humpty Jackson’s troop, another incredible gangland character from the first decade of the 20th century. Besides Lewis, Jackson led a band of about fifty men with names like Lobster Kid and The Grabber, and was a lover of Voltaire, Darwin and gunplay. He had a violent streak and a hunchback that deformed his figure and naturally exaggerated his feared presence among his men. By the time Jackson was jailed for the last time in 1910, Lewis had already set out on his own. Tall tales abound about Lewis, weaved colorfully first by Herbert Asbury in The Gangs Of New York. Lewis played up his noble Spanish – Portuguese bloodline by prowling the streets dressed in all black attire, crossing two Colt revolvers under his belt and backed up his arsenal with a couple of eight inch blades at either side of his hips. To accentuate his prowess and mystery he supposedly pulled up a sweater up to under his nose as to be unrecognizable under a supposed black sombrero; he knew how to draw attention for potential clients in the underworld. With no real ties to the existing Jewish criminal community, his olive complexion and dark swarthy looks set him apart from the rest of the East Side mobsters and made him a bit of an enigma.

Because of his considerable size he freelanced his bouncing skills on many occasions until Herman Rosenthal hired him on regularly for his East Side gambling parlor by 1909. His fists were swift, he was a crack shot with a pistol and Spanish Louie’s notoriety spread quickly as the mysterious figure that regularly thumped Rosenthal’s misbehaving patrons with brutish ease. Running a gambling establishment been a fierce game of competition on the East Side and no one disdained each other more than Rosenthal and rival Louis ‘Bridgey Webber. Violent exchanges and vandalism were the norm in the means of gaining the upper hand and stealing clients away by temporarily disabling the other’s operation. Lewis used the continuing feud to his advantage and decided to steal $400 after raiding Webber’s gambling parlor with a couple of men. To everyone’s surprise, an enraged Webber turned to the police, and Lewis and his men found themselves standing in line up of scoundrels and rogues. The underworld code was breached, but pressures to make amends were met when the $400 was returned to Webber along with an extra $300 for his troubles in order to not press charges and keep the misunderstanding at street level and not involve the police. Though Lewis was freed, a grudge ingrained itself deeply within him. Webber was jumped and blackjacked a couple of months later by unknown assailants who left him on the curb with a broken jaw.

On April 1, 1910, John ‘Spanish Louie’ Lewis lay dead on a street just off Second Avenue, with two bullets in his head.
In the months leading up to that first day in April, Bridgey Webber’s broken jaw healed up slowly over the cold winter as revenge burned into his thoughts. He hired Big Jack Zelig’s crew for payback on his assault and the trio of Gyp The Blood, Lefty Louis and Whitey Lewis were presumably given the assignment. They ensnared Spanish Louie after someone claimed a friend wanted to speak to him and had led him off Second Avenue down Twelfth Street. Lewis’ street smarts kicked in quick as he drew his revolvers but the ambush was lightning fast and he had no chance against the three men. Beat patrol officers came running after hearing the two shots and discovered Lewis’ body as a gray touring car roared off. Somewhere, Bridgey Webber smiled.

Some may have quickly disregarded any mysterious street legacy Spanish Louie hoped he had attained after his body was claimed by a family in Brooklyn to be given a proper Jewish burial. Seems the mysterious stranger clad in black was just another lost kid from across the river with misguided lawless ambitions that left him dead on the streets of the East Side.