It
was about 7:45pm, on Wednesday 26 February, 1930 - 6 months before
Judge Crater took “a Crater” on West 45th Street in Manhattan. A
middle aged blond woman and a tall, slightly balding man casually
walked out of the 8 story apartment building at 1521 Sheridan Avenue
in the Bronx (above). They were lightly dressed, and the sidewalks were
crowded with people enjoying the unseasonable warmth of 75 degrees. The pair sauntered north for a block to a small coup parked on the
west side of the street. As the man opened the passenger side door
for the woman, a solitary figure appeared out of the shadows and
spoke. The man started to smile a greeting. As he did the figure
lifted a sawed-off double barreled shotgun. For an instant the
surprise on the man's face was lit by the flash of the discharge,
followed by the hollow ugly thud.
The
man dropped to the pavement (above). The woman screamed. The assassin tossed
the weapon under the car and disappeared up a passage between
buildings. Residents recognized the screaming woman as four year
tenant Maria Ennis.
A good Samaritan cab driver drove Maria (below, left) across
the Harlem River to the Montefiore Hospital, at West 138th
Street (above), where they eventually brought the body of the man murdered in
front of her.
While
Maria (above, left) was treated for shock, police emptied the dead man's pockets.
They found a loaded revolver and $804 in cash, at a time when a
yearly middle class income was a little over $1,000. But this was
explained by the corpse's driver's license. The dead man's name had
been Gaetano “Tommy” Reina (above, right), also known as the Bronx Ice King.
Tommy was the 3rd ice distributor murdered in the last few
months. The press was calling it the “Cut Rate Feud”, fought over
territories for delivery of the once ubiquitous 5 pound slabs of ice
required every 4 to 6 days for every ice box in a city of over 3
million residents.
But
the refrigerator revolution had already begun. At 2393 Grand
Concourse and Fordham Road, within blocks of The Ice King's
assassination, his usurper, engineer and salesman Rex Cole, was
selling General Electric home refrigerators - from this and a half
dozen other sites across New York City - for a little as $215.00
apiece. In 1930, out of the 12,000 retail stores in NYC, only 63
sold kitchen appliances. But that year refrigerators made up 6% of
all home appliance sales. And those numbers were rapidly growing.
The
introduction of electricity to New York City tenements was supported
by reformers because home refrigerators allowed working class
families to improve their diets and health. Delivering electricity
was also cheaper than ice delivery, and bypassed the multi- layered
corruption that insulated gangs from reformers. And by regulating
utilities as public/private combinations, the gangs could be
completely shut out of the new market. So the rate cut ice war the
newspapers were obsessed with was a battle over the past, and the
Bronx Ice King had supposedly died for a vanishing kingdom.
No,
the murder of the Ice King was about something more. Every teamster
who left the Colonial Ice and Coal Company, on Eighth Avenue and
151st Street, and the other "ice houses" across the city, carried pass keys for every apartment building,
speakeasy,
market and restaurant across the Bronx and around Times Square. Their
daily meanderings were camouflage
for bootleg liquor distribution, numbers running and extortion rings,
as well as a hidden in plain sight laundry for the prohibition
profits from all of those and prostitution, which filled the pockets
of the Lucchese's crime family, of which Gaetano Reina was a major
player.
In
the early morning hours of Thursday, 28 February 1930, the police
brought Tommy's 40 year old wife, Angelina (above, left) , to identify her husband (above right) in the morgue. Somehow the grieving widow spotted the mistress in a
treatment room. Angelina pounced on Maria like a hungry puma on
sleeping chipmunk.
Angelina used Maria's throat as a handle to toss
her around the room, all the while screaming that the mistress was a
tramp who had stolen the father of her nine children. Eventually the
police were able to restrain Angelina. To the newspaper writers the
two devastated women provided comic relief in an otherwise unpleasant
assignment.
The
real background to the murder was that Tommy Reina had aligned himself with Joe
“The Boss” Masseria (above) . But Charles “Lucky” Luciano, who
cultivated allies on all sides, warned Joe that Tommy had been
talking to opposition gang leader, Salvatore “Little Caesar”
Maranzano. The hot headed Joe hit the roof, and ordered the “hit”
on The Ice King, his own man.
Luciano gave the job to his trusted
soldier, Vito Genovese (above). After gunning down Reina, Vito escaped by
running between buildings to the Grand Concourse where Joseph Micheal
“Cargo Joe” Valachi, was waiting with a get away car. Two years
later, Tommy Reina's daughter Carmela, would marry Joe Valachi.
The
“hit” was actually the first shot in a war between the old guard “Mustache
Pete's” who wanted the American Mafia to remain strictly Italian
and Sicilian, and the young Turks, like Luciano, who were willing to
do business with anybody, even Jews like Arthur Simon Flegenheimer (above).
Young Arthur had first worked for the Schultz Trucking Company,
smuggling beer and liquor across the Canadian border. He quickly
established a reputation as smart and violent, and became known as
the German who worked for Schultz – or, Dutch Schultz.
It
was Luciano who introduced Schultz to a little pug nosed Russian
firecracker named Pearl “Polly” Adler (above, left). Having decided to become a
madam at age 20, Polly Adler never looked back. “My feeling is,”
she wrote years later, “that by the time there are such choices to
be made, your life already has made the decision for you”.
By
1928, the “Jewish Jezebel” had been running brothels for a
decade, and was earning $1,100 a week. But despite the hundred
dollar bills she passed in every handshake to politicians and cops,
she had still been forced to change her houses 11 times in 10 years. Luciano thought Dutch
and Polly (above, right) might be able to help each other.
So,
bankrolled by Dutch - in exchange for 50% of her profits - Polly
opened her most famous house in the brand new Majestic Hotel (above) at 215 West
75th street. She turned down 40 women for every one she
hired, and then treated them the same way she treated the customers –
with respect. As one writer put it, “She strove to cultivate an
atmosphere that was more clubhouse than cat house...” Her wealthy clientele
also provided a layer of protection.
On almost any night you might
discover politicians like Mayor Jimmy Walker, or high priced lawyers like William Klein or even a judge Like Joe Crater. The only thing that worried Polly was that
Dutch often stopped to visit, and the territory surrounding Polly's
nest was controlled by the competing Irish gangster and loose cannon,
John Thomas Diamond. But that was why Dutch had invested in the
property. Polly's house was a wedge to pry apart Diamond's little Manhattan territory.
Nobody
trusted Diamond. By 1930 the 5 foot 9 inch tall, 140 pound sociopath
had earned the nickname of “Legs” because of the three
assassination attempts he already walked away from.
Jack had started in
1919 as a body guard for Arnold Rothstein (above), also known as “the
Brain”, “The Big Bankroll”, “The Man Uptown”, “The
Fixer”, and simply “Mister Big” - the man who rigged the 1919
World Series. The rumor was A.R. liked Jack so much, he set him up
in the heroin business – for a cut of course. But in November of
1928, rumor also had it that “Gentleman Jack” was involved in the
assassination of his own boss at the Park Central Hotel.
After
the death of Rothsein, Jack became known as “Big Boy”, a flashy
dresser, a big spender, seen every weekend at high end “speaks”
like “21” and “The Stork Club,”, with showgirls like
Constance “Connie” Markus...
...or more regularly the red haired Ziegfield chorus girl, Marion “Kiki Roberts” Strasmick (above)...
...or his own wife, Alice Schiffer (above) - and lately with Kiki and Alice at the same time.
In early 1929
Jack joined with his muscle man, Charles Entratta, and front man Hymie
Cohen, in opening their own speakeasy, a dark dive on the second
floor of 1721 Broadway between 54th
and 55th
Streets, called “The Hotsy-Totsy Club” (above,single door next to "used cars" shop). It was a significant
investment.
About
3:00am on Friday, 13 July, 1929 – just about a year before Judge
Crater took a cab - 3 strangers saunter into the “Hotsy-Totsy
Club”. About an hour later they picked a fight with the bouncer,
ex-boxer Ruby Goldstein. Jack recognized one of the men as Simon
Walker, a thug working for Dutch Schultz and assumed the Dutchman had
sent the trio to “break up the joint”, maybe enough to keep the
club from opening for that weekend. So Jack decided to meet the
threat head on, as only Jack Diamond would.
While
the band played loudly, Jack (above) told the three men, “I’m Jack
Diamond and I run this place. If you don’t calm down, I’ll blow
your fucking heads off.” The trio's response was unsatisfactory,
and the band's rendition of “Alexander's Rag Time Band” failed
to drown out the barrage of gunshots.
By
the time the police arrived, Simon Walker and a second thug were dead
on the floor. Later that morning, the third would be delivered to a
hospital, where he was pronounced D.O.A. The only people still
breathing in the club were the Manager Hymie Cohen, the bartender, a
cashier, the hat check girl, a chorus girl and a waiter named
Walter Volgast. They all swore they had not seen or heard anything.
But Jack had gotten his picture in the newspapers too many times. The
press identified the Hotsy-Totsy as “his” club. Worse, rather
than use the back room usually reserved for such purposes, Jack had
killed three men in full view of witnesses. The
cops closed the Hotsy-Totsy, cutting the spend thrift Jack off from a
significant source of bribe money. Jack was forced to use another
approach to protect himself.
On
19 July Walter Volgast's bullet ridden body was found in Bordentown,
New Jersey. Shortly thereafter, Hyme Cohen was also found dead. The
other 4 witnesses simply vanished. And only then did Jack turn
himself in to answer questions. In the end, nobody was ever charged
with the death of the three thugs, nor the supposed deaths of the 4
witnesses. But Jack Diamond was now not only a hot head, he was just
“hot”. He now carried a the new nickname, “The Clay Pigeon”.
Over
the next year, Jack started selling his legitimate investments in
Manhattan, so he could invest in new bootlegging operations upstate,
around Albany. He wouldn't be making as much money, but he would
likely live a lot longer. And at some point he found he needed some
pull with a civil court trial judge. In particular, a new judge, just
appointed to the New York City Supreme Court by Governor Franklin
Delano Roosevelt. That judge was Joseph Force Crater.
Since
1923, “Connie Markus” (above, right) had been an occasional mistress of “Good
Time Joe Crater”, and more recently, Jack Diamond. Rumor said that Connie asked Judge Crater to
decide a civil case in Jack's favor. According to the account by
writer Stephen Ellis, it was papers related to that case which Judge
Crater went through in his office on Wednesday, 6 August, 1930.
Those papers had gone into the two locked brief cases Joe Crater had
left the office with that afternoon. And the $5,100 in cash he took
with him was meant as a payoff to Diamond, because the Judge had to
tell Jack no. With the feds and reformers sniffing around, Judge
Crater felt he could not decide the case the way Diamond wanted, not
without drawing attention and raising suspicions.
And
that, said the rumors, was what led to Judge Crater's mysterious
disappearance on West 45th Street, that muggy August
evening, just after 9:15pm.
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