The Starlight Club 3: The Vendetta,: Goodfellas, Mob Guys & Hitmen (Starlight Club Mystery Mob)

by Joe Corso

  Sam pulled Trenchie closer.

  “Forget about gettin’ him phony papers,” Giancana said, “because with Jack Kennedy dead, Bobby’ll be powerless. You won’t need any phony papers for him. He can use his real name. By the way, I’m gonna have Bobby whacked too, but just not right away. I want him to suffer a while. Without his brother, he’s nothin’; he’ll lose his power, but he’s a man used to power. He’ll want it back. How do I think he’ll get his power? He’ll make a run for the Presidency and that’s . . . when I’ll get him. That’s . . . when he’ll die. The details are being worked out right now, as we speak – things like certain government agencies that would like nothin’ better than to see Bobby and Jack gone. I’ve been assured by certain parties that some doors will be open for us when that day comes.”

  Trenchie nodded his head a few times.

  “Thanks for lettin’ me know Sam. I was seriously plannin’on doin’ it myself. For a change, I have good news to tell the guys when I get back. Just one thing, Sam. Can you gimme an idea when?”

  He shook his head no.

  “It’s better you don’t know. You don’t wanna know about this. No one can touch you with this. Your hands stay clean.”

  “Understood and thanks,” Trenchie responded. “Okay then, unless there’s anything else, I guess we’ll head out.”

  Trenchie turned to leave but Giancana stopped him.

  “Wait a minute Trenchie. You do know that the President likes to travel a lot and he can’t wait to get back on the road again. I understand he’ll be visitin’ nine states campaignin’ for his second term as President. One of the states he’s gonna visit is Texas to campaign with Governor Connally. It’ll be televised. You might wanna catch it on television. Of the nine states he’ll be visitin’, I think Texas will be the most interesting to watch. Well have a good trip back. I appreciate you drivin’ all the way here just to hear a few words from me.”

  “Take care, Sam, and the feelin’s mutual. You have brass balls for a little guy. I like that.”

  Sam laughed and slapped Trenchie on the back, and the two men parted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As hard as Lonegan tried, he couldn’t find Trenchie. His men watched the apartment around the clock, but the only person they spotted entering and leaving the building was his wife Mary. He must have gone into hiding. Frustrated, angry thoughts swirled in Lonegan’s mind. This was the guy who threatened to kill him and now was hiding somewhere. But even in hiding, Trenchie was a problem.

  The Attorney General was pressuring Lonegan to tie up loose ends and close this case. Ideally, Bobby Kennedy would have preferred to have Red Fortunato languish in prison and be paraded around for the newspapers and television reporters gawking pleasure, right up until the time of his trial, which most likely would have been the trial of the century. Having Red alive, the trial would have been the diamond in his crown. But . . . Big Red was dead, so he’d now use his death as further proof of his great successes in bringing mobsters and criminals to justice. As for Hoffa, he’d wait for the right moment. That was his ace. This would be a huge media event and this time, there would be no last minute reprieves, no lawyers freeing him by using legal technicalities. No, this time Hoffa would be convicted. Bobby had an airtight case. He would use sworn testimony from a convict who would state under oath how Hoffa had misused Teamster funds. Once Hoffa was convicted, Bobby would authorize the convict’s release. Securing Hoffa’s conviction would assure that he’d go from Attorney General to the highest honor in the land, following right in his brother’s footsteps.

  The country loved Jack Kennedy with his good looks and Irish charm, but the general public didn’t feel that way about Bobby for some reason. He was different from JKF. Bobby was difficult to work with and known as a hard ass. His aides knew him as vindictive and flat, no sense of humor, something his newly hired public relations team intended to change by systematically and methodically altering his public persona so that now converted adoring audiences would wonder why it took them so long to understand this man. If there was ever one thing for certain, it’s that the public loves a good, honest, family man. Combine that with a leader who fights to keep his citizens safe from bad guys, like mobsters, and that was nothing short of a win–win. With the help of Bobby’s media friends, they would soon show him as a decent, church going, honest crime fighter who loved his wife and children. Bobby was smart. News wasn’t reported – it was created. He smiled at the thought of his friends in the media shining their light on him, lighting the path to the White House and to his presidency. But at the moment, the film footage of the government destroying The Starlight Club and the senseless killing of three civilians wasn’t good for his image. He came across as ruthless and overzealous in his quest to take down the underworld. That perception needed to change or it could work against him.

  The world had become acquainted with The Starlight Club through two movies, making it a must go-to place when visiting New York. Watching a famous institution being bombed, while simultaneously viewing a Wild West shootout, was bad for both Bobby’s image and that of the legendary establishment.

  Behind the scenes, Bobby had spent hours trying to convince Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa that there was no ongoing government attempt to bring down his organization. The PR transformation began by showing a smiling, friendly Bobby Kennedy attending functions with his former enemies, the Teamsters, conveying unity with the teamster rank and file. Film footage of Bobby attending Teamster affairs was broadcast everywhere. One such event was a lavish affair held at the Queen’s Terrace, a nightclub and catering house in Queens. In July of 1963, comedian Frankie Fontaine, otherwise known as Crazy Guggenheim on the Jackie Gleason show, was the featured entertainer. Bobby was introduced by none other than Frank Fitzsimmons, the President of the Teamster union himself, by emerging from behind the curtain and slowly walking the perimeter, smiling and shaking hands as if he were Elvis. He and Fitzsimmons gave the impression of being best friends and the broadcast footage showed Bobby in a most favorable light. The image spinners were successful in turning a laconic, unpleasant man into that of a pleasant, happy, yet endearingly shy, public figure. But there was something else taking place simultaneously. It was monumental and history making. While Bobby was working the crowd, Hoffa was working the details of something far more sinister.

  At the urging of Sam Giancana, Hoffa sent Frank Ragano to New Orleans to meet with Santos Trafficante and Carlos Marcello for the sole purpose of finalizing plans for President John F. Kennedy.

  The days passed slowly for Big Red. His body writhed in pain each time he moved. Yet under the watchful eye of his friend and loyal soldier, Moose, forever present to administer medication or assist him while going to the bathroom, he was slowly recovering.

  Doctor Ben continued to visit Red regularly to check on his progress, albeit each time he did so, he was jumpy and concerned that he might be followed. On one such visit, Red’s head was resting on two pillows when Dr. Ben entered. Ben was pleased with Red’s progress and was also pleased with himself that he had used his medical prowess so successfully under such extreme, restrictive conditions. As Ben got up to leave, Red tried to say something to him, but he had difficulty speaking. His head fell back onto his pillow as he tugged Ben’s arm.

  Red motioned with his fingers for the doctor to come closer and in a low raspy voice, he whispered, “I know what you did for me,” he said, tiring fast, “and I will never forget it. I am in your debt. When I get back on my feet, I will use all of my influence and money to get your medical license reinstated. Meanwhile, put this in your pocket.”

  Red motioned to Moose with a weak gesture and Moose approached and handed Ben a yellow envelope. Ben opened it and closed it quickly, almost superstitiously thinking that if it wasn’t closed, it might evaporate.

  “Jesus, Red. There’s a lot of money in here.”

  Red gave him a weak smile.

  “Five grand. Now take your wife on a trip somewhere. W
hen you get your license back, you won’t have much time for vacations. Go on now and get out of here. I’m tired.”

  Ben left and Red motioned again to Moose, this time to sit down beside him.

  “Go see Doc Lamb and tell him I want him to look into getting Ben his medical license reinstated. Tell him to do whatever it takes to get it done. Tell him I said to use his contacts and I’ll cover the costs. Bring him here next week and I’ll meet him by the bar. I don’t want him to know about the safe room because as much as I love the old man, if he’s threatened by Lonegan, he can’t get into trouble if he doesn’t know anything. Let him know that when I see him, I want an update on how the license is coming along.”

  Moose nodded and smiled. He was a happy man. Red was making decisions, he was giving orders, and he wanted progress reports. Big Red was back.

  Trenchie and Shooter walked into the Zebra club for the first time in ten days. Everyone was curious about how they made out. Jake was behind the bar and when he caught Trenchie’s eye, he tilted his head toward his office where Tarzan was waiting for him. Trenchie told Shooter to stay in the bar without giving away any details of anything. This was too important.

  Trenchie told Tarzan everything.

  “Kennedy’s gonna get whacked when he gets to Texas. Sam didn’t tell me straight out because he knows it’s better I don’t know details. He did give me somethin’, though. As I was leavin’, he stopped me and dropped a little pearl. Mentioned that Jack likes to travel and he’s goin’ on a nine state re–election campaign. Told me Texas would be the most interesting and thought I would enjoy it. He said ‘don’t miss it. Make sure you watch it on TV.’”

  “So you think Texas is where he’ll be killed?” Tarzan asked.

  “Not so loud, Tarz, we might have ears listenin’.”

  “Nah, don’t worry. I have this place checked every morning for bugs. We’re clean.”

  Trenchie shook his head.

  “Even so, let’s be safe. Just hold it down a little. But to answer your question, yeah, I believe that’s when he’ll get it. So we have to hold out for a few more months and once Jack is gone, Bobby’ll be replaced and lose his power, I’m assumin’, and when that happens, Red can come out of hidin’. By the way, how’s Red doin’?”

  “He’s doin’ great, getting’ stronger every day. He’s still weak but I figure in about two weeks he’ll be strong enough to run things on a limited basis.”

  Trenchie thought for a moment, then he asked, “When are the boys fightin’ again? Do they have any fights scheduled for the near future?”

  “Yeah. I have Frankie the cop standin’ in for Red. He’s doing a good job of it too. They have a fight scheduled for Saturday, November twenty–third. That’s in three weeks.”

  “Maybe by that time, Red’ll be strong enough to catch the fight,” Trenchie added.

  “Yeah maybe, but it’ll all depend on what Lonegan’s doing. He can’t go anywhere as long as that guy’s still hangin’ around.”

  Trenchie was pensive. He was a proactive type of guy who hated standing around waiting for something to happen. When something threatened him, he faced it head on but with the government after him, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He knew one thing though – the first chance he got, he was going to pull the plug on Lonegan. It was just a matter of when and how to get to him. It was like peeling back the layers of an onion – once you get through the first layer, there’s a second layer and then a third and so on. Trenchie wasn’t much of a planner; he was a doer. That’s why Red was boss. Red planned the moves and Trenchie executed them. But Red was on a cot recovering from bullet wounds and until Red was well enough to plot the course against Lonegan, Trenchie would have to bide his time and wait.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moose brought down the old leather recliner from the second floor, dusted it off, and dragged it into the safe room. It had arms and a leg rest that could be extended. Red would be more comfortable sitting in this than lying on the cot. To Red, the chair felt like a cotton puff, one of the most satisfying feelings he could remember. By now, Red was managing a few short steps to the little kitchen area. By the end of his sixth week of recovery, he was walking along the ground floor of the Corona Gentleman’s Club. The time had now come for Red to attempt taking a shower on his own. After dropping his bathrobe, shock filled his face the first time he saw himself in a mirror. An old man’s body was staring back at him – saggy flesh, sunken eyes. This visual was all it took – this was his motivation to get back in shape.

  In his eighth week, Red began walking up the stairs to the second floor to strengthen his leg muscles and he subsequently asked Moose to bring him a series of weights in varying pounds. While not an exercise nut, he did like to keep in reasonably good shape. At The Starlight Club, he had always worked out three to four times a week at the small gym there because in his world it was survival of the fittest. For now, the stairs and weights would do just fine.

  Red started with three pound weights and incrementally increased them to five pounds, then ten. For two weeks, he used ten pounders before attempting the next weight of fifteen. As days passed, loose flesh became firm muscle and he was beginning to feel like himself again. It wouldn’t be long before he could kiss this little prison good–bye and resume leadership of his organization.

  Sunday, November seventeenth was just another boring day inside the safe room. Moose had already told Red that his three fighters wanted to come visit him. Red agreed to let Moose make the arrangements. Red was in the safe room when there was a knock on the front door. Piss Clams, stationed by the door as bodyguard and lookout, sneaked a look, and alerted Moose and Red as to the visitors. Red signaled Piss Clams to open the door. Red and Moose then scurried out of the safe room to the bar area where each man took a seat. Red watched the boys’ expressions as they walked through the door and first saw him. Clearly, they were happy to see their manager.

  Swifty rushed to embrace him, but Red held out his hands in a defensive position.

  “Easy with the embrace, kid,” he said, smiling. “You don’t want me leaking all over ya, do ya?”

  Swifty backed away, but Red then grabbed him and held him close. Swifty tried to say something, but the words just didn’t come.

  “I know, kid. I know what you want to say and I appreciate it.”

  Red then looked at his heavyweight, Gonzo, and shook his hand. He glanced next at Henri and did the same.

  “It’s good to see you boys. Moose tells me you have a fight coming up next week. I’m looking forward to it but I won’t be in your corners this time.”

  The boys were silent. First they had been pleasantly surprised to see their manager, now only to be let down by hearing that their main support system wouldn’t be with them at such an important time. Red had never missed a fight.

  “Are you boys in shape? Are you ready for this fight?” Red asked in a stern, fatherly tone.

  “Yeah,” Swifty said, “we’re in great shape because that Gill Clancy is a slave driver.”

  They all had a laugh.

  Henri added, “He’s a great trainer. If we win, it’s because of him. He’s good, Red. He’s kickass good.”

  Gonzo corrected him.

  “No, Clancy wouldn’t be training us if it wasn’t for Red so if we ever do become champs, Red’s the reason, not Clancy.”

  “Whatever,” Henri said. “All I know is that someday soon we will all be champs and that I have no doubt about.”

  Red turned to Swifty.

  “I thought you were making a movie.”

  “I finished shootin’ my part. Bernstein knew that I needed to leave to get ready for the fight so he scheduled my part to be shot first.”

  “Tell me a little more about the picture. Bernstein’s good about keeping me informed, generally, but seeing as how I’m supposed to be dead, I really don’t know details,” Red said.

  “It’s a story about a guy like I used to be. It’s called The Sparring Partner. The st
ory’s about a guy who’s a sparring partner for all the upcoming fighters, but he has no ambition to make it as a fighter on his own. A washed up fight manager had been watchin’ him spar and recognizes the potential the kid has to become a world class fighter, and maybe a champ someday, and well . . . you know the rest. Hell, you could’ve written the story,” he laughed.

  “Do you like Hollywood, Swiff?”

  “It’s alright, I guess. I’m a fighter and I don’t really enjoy play actin’. I’m what I am and I don’t like playin’ what I’m not.”

  “You know Swifty, guys would give their right arm to be you and do what you’re doing,” Red added.

  “Yeah, I know and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that I have my sights set on winnin’ the middleweight championship.”

  Red nodded his head in understanding.

  “Your first picture was a huge success. The public loves you and so does Bernstein. With The Starlight Club gone, I’m going to make a move to Hollywood soon and funny as this sounds, I’m probably going to need your help to get started there. I originally planned on Jimmy the Hat being my introduction into that town, but he went and got himself killed so it looks like it’s up to you now, Swiff.”

  “Sure, Red. Consider it done.”

  “Good,” Red replied. “You’re a big movie star now so don’t blow it. Now, how about you two guys? Is everything alright with you?”

  “We’re fine, Red,” Henri answered. “You just take care of yourself and get yourself feeling well so that you can be in our corner for the other fights after this one.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Henri. I’m right around, oh, I’d say, eighty–five percent right now. I intend to get back to work next week, right after your fight. I’m really looking forward to that night. I have good feelings about your future and mine as well. Now, you boys take care. I wanted to see you, wish you luck, let ya know that even though I can’t be there physically, I’m there in spirit. Now get out of here and go get ‘em. I wanna see some championship balls and . . . belts,” he laughed.