by Joe Corso
Trenchie only had to say that once. Richard knew the stories of Trenchie having killed people weren’t exaggerated. He knew all about Trenchie’s background.
“Trenchie, I’m just a guy trying to make a living. I don’t take anything that isn’t mine. I get paid a good salary and I’m very happy with this arrangement, so don’t worry about me getting into trouble with you.”
“Okay, here’s my phone number. It’s The Starlight Club’s number. That’s where I’m stayin’ for the time being. I’ll give you my new number when I move into my own place.” Trenchie patted the kid on the back and told him, “I’m glad to have met you Richie. I like what you’re doing. Keep it up.” With that, he left as suddenly as he had arrived.
Chapter Sixteen
Crazy Joe was itching to visit Cordero but he had to wait until Bullet Jones arrived. He wanted to kill them both at the same time. Joey wanted to go in with guns blazing, but his brother Larry laid out a plan that made sense to him so he told him he’d wait. On payday Thursday morning at eight thirty, a van was parked opposite the cleaners in Harlem. Sitting in the driver’s seat was Gibby, accompanied by Joey on the passenger’s side. In the body of the van were Jelly, Red, and Jimmy the Hat plus three other members of Red’s crew. Each man was packing automatic weapons, fitted with suppressors, and three of them were wearing painter’s outfits. At nine fifty-five, Bullet Jones arrived. It was obvious it was him by the shape of his head. Three men waited five minutes and then stepped out of the van, just a group of painters carting their cans of paint walking to their daily assignment. The painters walked through the front door, up the stairs, and headed straight to Cordero’s apartment. Quietly, in the hallway, they set the paint cans onto the floor and pulled out their guns. Meanwhile, back in the van, each man had inserted a clip and chambered a round. This way, there would be less noise. Every second of silence mattered in affairs such as these.
Joey waited for the painters to get into position. When satisfied, he stood in front of the door, braced himself for maximum leverage, and kicked hard on the door causing it to fly open within seconds of impact. Without hesitation, Joey rushed into the room all the while firing his gun like a madman. Eight men in the apartment looked up, completely stunned by the armed man brandishing a gun. One of the men was busy counting money. It was payday so Joey figured that he must be Cordero. The man didn’t have a weapon so Joey trained his weapon on Bullet Jones, sitting alongside the man, who raised his gun. He shot him. Next, he systematically peeled off each man, one by one, with a shot here, a blast there. It was over in a matter of seconds. There lay Bullet Jones and his men sprawled in grotesque positions along the floor, on top of the sofas, and leaned against the wall, all of them dead. Only Cordero remained alive. Joey walked over and asked him.
“Do you know who I am?”
Cordero nodded his head. He was speechless, too shocked and scared to say a word.
“The reason you’re still alive is that you owe me fifteen grand. Get it now.”
Joey told Jelly to watch the door. “If anyone arrives to come collect their pay, bring ‘em to me. Don’t hurt ‘em.” Jelly assumed his position by the door with his gun at the ready just in case he had to use it.
Cordero did as he was told and quickly scrambled, putting together stacks of money from the table and counted out an even seven thousand dollars, which Joey took.
“Your short eight thousand. Get it.”
Cordero stood up. Five guns instantly pointed at him. Cordero raised his hands and explained timidly that he needed to go to his safe to get the remainder. Joey followed him and watched as he turned the dial on the large safe hidden behind the picture on the wall in the hallway, near the bathroom. When the safe’s door swung open, Joey could see stacks of papers and mounds of bills - a value far exceeding the eight thousand owed him. Cordero was about to reach for money when Joey shoved him aside and began removing the safe’s contents. Joey spread everything onto the table. The first packet of papers he examined was deeds to properties that Cordero owned. He put those aside. Another stack contained registrations to cars. It was the third stack that was the jackpot - bearer bonds, bearer bonds in large amounts. Joey didn’t know if Cordero had stolen them or if they were the rightful profits of some of Cordero’s businesses. Joey really didn’t care about their origins. All he knew was that they could be converted to cash anywhere, at anytime. Cordero was a man who apparently didn’t trust banks. Men like Cordero often protected their income this way. They would accumulate a large quantity of money and convert it to bearer bonds - a quick, easy getaway with instant access to money. Joey skimmed over the bonds with great interest. They seemed to fascinate him, in a way.
“You’ve been a busy man, Cordero. Now you’re gonna sign all these deeds and all the registrations.” Cordero knew it was fruitless to resist. He was out numbered, out gunned and completely unprotected. The painters watched as the man signed away his fortune. Cordero had barely signed the last document when Joey picked up a fistful of bearer bonds, stood up and said, “interest,” waving the bonds in his left hand and without warning, fired a single shot into Cordero’s head, killing him instantly with the gun in his right hand. Joey took the signed documents from Cordero’s and handed them to Albert, instructing him to keep them in a safe place. He calmly sat back down at the table and waited for the others to arrive. Within a half hour, ten men showed up. Each was escorted in to see Joey. Each man was shocked by the carnage before him. Most all of them assumed that they, too, were about to fall victim to something real unpleasant. What the hell had they walked into?
Joey assured each man that he meant no harm, asking each how much pay they had coming. He paid each man his rightful earnings. When the men had calmed down a bit, he sat them all together and informed them that this was now his territory, that he was their new boss. He asked each of them to join with him with the promise of an immediate weekly raise. Truth be known, Larry, his brother was really the reason they were alive. He had explained to Crazy Joey how necessary the men were to continue to successfully run Cordero’s illegal activities. These men knew the stops, the drops, and the routine.
Joey reviewed a few things such as: how if they show loyalty to Joey, they will prosper but if they didn’t, well . . . enough said. Albert fielded and answered their many questions. He explained that Cordero had killed two of his men and that today was payback. Cordero’s men knew the rules they lived under and understood that the Gallo’s had a right to retaliate. Understanding the psychodynamics of why this happened was in large part the reason they agreed to join the Gallo gang. It was unanimous - the men were all aboard and a deal was made. Albert Gallo and a dozen of his men would now be running the Bronx Territory.
On August 20, 1961 the Gallo’s were in a celebratory mood. Joey had recouped his fifteen grand, plus a lot more, so he was happy, and they had killed nine men, without losing a single one of theirs. The deaths of Bullet Jones and Rodrigo Cordero meant that the Gallo’s had become heirs to a profitable Bronx operation. That newly expanded territory gave the Gallo’s the edge they had long needed. They could now operate more from strength than from weakness. This was huge in the status hierarchy of the Italian world. A celebration was in order. For one night, an exception would be made. The Gallo’s would break their own rule and bring their entire gang together in one place for an evening of back slapping, toasting and dining. There was only one place for such celebration - The Starlight Club.
The party had already started and Joey and Albert were toasting everybody in the place, lightheartedly enjoying themselves for the first time in months. The only one missing was Larry. It wasn’t like him to be late. Joey wondered what could be taking him so long.
What the Gallo brothers didn’t know was this: Brother Larry had received a call summoning him to a meeting at another place, the Sahara Lounge, a Brooklyn supper club. Once inside the club, a group of Profaci hit men jumped him and began to strangle him. One of those men was Carmine, “The Snake,”
Persico. He later became the Gallo’s prime suspect as the one who engineered this ambush. Purely by happenstance, a police officer walked into the club saving Larry’s life within just milliseconds. The would be murderers made a hasty retreat out the back door. Larry had been so close to death that his body had begun to shut down. His sphincter muscles had relaxed and his bowels had evacuated coating his body in urine and feces.
Joey worked himself into a rage when he heard that his blood brother was almost murdered. He set out to kill Carmine, stalking him and opening fire on his car one night. Persico survived the attempt.
Chapter Seventeen
The Gallo’s sent out their men to various bars throughout the five boroughs including Yip’s Corona Gentleman’s Club and Red’s The Starlight Club.
It was no surprise to Jimmy the Hat to see familiar faces when he entered The Starlight Club this fine sunny day. It was unusual, however, to have this many guys in the bar this early in the morning, but these weren’t normal times. There was a war going on between the Gallo’s and the Profaci’s and just the other night, Larry Gallo had barely survived being garroted by Carmine, “The Snake,” Persico and his boys.
Yip was feeling the pressure. Everyone in The Starlight Club was heavily armed, including Jimmy. Jimmy was about to take a seat at Red’s favorite table but Moose, tending bar for Tarzan, motioned for him to come over. When Jimmy got close enough, he pointed in the direction of Red’s office and told him to go see Red.
“Jimmy, good to see you,” Red said when he entered the room.
“It’s good to be here. Moose told me you wanted to see me about something?”
“Yeah, I have a surprise for you. I’m sending you to the west coast to do a job. Are you up for it?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Red pulled an envelope from under his desk calendar and handed it to Jimmy.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Open it.”
Jimmy opened the envelope and read the letter it contained.
“Are you serious Red? Columbia Pictures? They scheduled me for a screen test? Is this some kind of a joke?”
“Yes, I’m serious and no, this is no joke. I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time now and I just now got around to it. I’m sorry for it takin’ so long. You have a ten o’clock appointment tomorrow morning, in Hollywood, with Larry Bernstein, President of Columbia pictures. He’s agreed to give you a screen test. We did him a favor once and he’s repaying it. I want you on the plane this afternoon. Is that a problem for you?”
“No, I can be ready. Do you know what time my flight is?”
“I have the information here.”
Red took another envelope from his desk and opened it. He removed the one-way ticket to Los Angeles and read: “Delta, 4:30 this afternoon. There’s a reservation for you at the Best Western Hollywood Hills Hotel - it’s the one on Franklin Ave - and I have ten thousand in cash for you. I don’t want you going to Hollywood with no cash in your pocket. He reached over his desk and handed the package to Jimmy.
“Remember ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Be on time and dress appropriately. I want you lookin’ good, understand? Don’t make me look bad and I want you to keep me posted. Call me every few days, understand?”
“Don’t worry Red, I’ll call you. Wow! I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“Get goin’. I don’t want you being late and, hey Jimmy, good luck and remember - call me as soon as you have something to tell me.”
“I will. I better get goin’ if I’m gonna make that plane.”
Jimmy’s flight departed on time. Exactly five and half hours later, the plane touched down at LAX. With the time difference it was now seven-thirty in the evening. He took a cab straight to the hotel. After he had settled into his room, he grabbed a quick bite to eat in the little restaurant downstairs and diligently headed over to the front desk to ask the desk clerk for a seven am wake-up call. Red’s words echoed in his head - “Be on time and don’t’ make me look bad.” Shortly thereafter, he drifted off into deep slumber.
The hotel room phone rang promptly at seven. Jimmy climbed out of bed, took a quick shower, shaved, and combed his hair into his signature slick backed style. He put on his gray silk shirt, his yellow silk tie, neatly arranged his Valentino Maximus suit, and slipped into his Bally dress shoes. He looked handsome and he knew it. He was aware of the way heads turn when he walked down the street or entered a room. He made young, giggly girls and older women get foolish and wordless. It was a trait of his - rugged, tough, yet oh so handsome looks that the most articulate women would be reduced to garble. Satisfied with his look, he called downstairs to the desk and asked them to call a cab.
Jimmy sat anxiously in the waiting room outside of Larry Bernstein’s office. The girls there were ogling, stealing glances more than once in a while. He would discover later that phones were ringing and intercoms were sounding with busy little fingers spreading the word that one of the most handsome guys in the world was sitting in a certain reception area. Word was that Mr. Handsome was going to be Columbia Pictures next big star.
At ten o’clock sharp, Jimmy was ushered into the President’s office. Jimmy the Hat always made a good impression and this morning was no different. Maybe it was his “I don’t give a shit attitude” or his devil-may-care look. Whatever it was, it impressed Larry Bernstein. Bernstein never missed a beat, taking immediate notice of his secretaries’ looks, bashful gazes of awe, and little signals they were giving him about the man who was entering his office. It was a barometer for him. He called it “the swoon appeal” and that’s how he knew if he was looking at his next money maker. Bernstein had to admit - the guy standing in front of him was handsome and he had something. What started as an obligatory repayment of a favor, was turning into a prospect - a young, handsome fellow who showed promise. Bernstein invited Jimmy to take a seat. Jimmy with his easy smile and charming con man demeanor would con the hell out of Larry Bernstein right now, and blow in his ear while he was doing it.
Bernstein buzzed his intercom and called for Marla Kirshbaum, his departmental acting coach. When she arrived, he asked her to critique the young man sitting before him. Jimmy was cocky as hell, but he didn’t show it. To him, this was all a lark. If it worked out, it would be great and if it didn’t … so what? Kirshbaum instantly liked what she saw, but she played it cool and demurely remarked, “I think I can do something with him.” Larry knew Marla and he knew that this was her way was saying, “Sign him up fast.”
As it goes in movie land, Bernstein had been working on a script and already had a leading man in mind, one that he was just about to sign. Acting on impulse and instinct, he decided to find out what Jimmy was really made of and asked him to read for the part. The movie, titled Mob Enforcer was scheduled to be a big budget picture directed by none other than John Houston. Bernstein was hoping that this picture would become another Scarface. If only this kid could act or at least act well enough to get by, with his looks and demeanor carrying him the rest of the way. With Jimmy still at his desk, Bernstein called his assistant and asked her to schedule a screen test for Jimmy the next morning at seven with the studio’s leading female star opposite him.
The following morning, Jimmy arrived a few minutes early, wearing a different, but just as elegant suit, and asked a girl, seemingly busy with a clipboard, to point him to the person in charge. The assistant, clearly mesmerized by this charismatic, handsome man standing in front of her, simply raised her fountain pen and pointed to a tall, reddish haired man speaking to a pretty young woman. Jimmy, with his normal arrogant gait, walked over to the man, tapped him on the shoulder, and asked if he was in the right studio. The man, asked for his name, checked his clipboard and nodded in the affirmative. He handed Jimmy papers. “This is the script. Look it over and let me know if you have any questions. This is the role you’ll be testing for.” The pretty girl standing there looked up at Jimmy. She was going to enjoy this screen test, she thou
ght.
Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle aloud when he scanned over the script. He was reading a gangster’s part! Hell, all he had to do was to be himself! How hard could that be?
It was time. Jimmy began. First his lines, then hers. The girl read her lines, he answered. Words led to more words until the grand scene that called for Jimmy to argue with her and then in an attempt to make up, he was to take her in his arms and kiss her tenderly but passionately. Jimmy, gazing deep into her eyes, gently touched her right cheek, with first one hand, and then clasping both cheeks with both hands, kissed her passionately and madly. To his surprise, she responded with slight panting, holding on, accepting his kisses. The director, enjoying this sexual tension and trained in what does and does not determine a good screen test, finally called “Cut!” Jimmy was now a bit confused by this Hollywood stuff, trying to decide if this was the way it always went or was this was because of “me.” Either way, he thought - this shit is fun and he decided right then and there that he liked acting.
The screen test was viewed by the Columbia head honchos and it was unanimous - Jimmy would be the new leading man for their movie. The go ahead was given and Larry Bernstein was pleased. This kid was an unexpected gift to the studio. He was perfect for the lead but more than that, he had something. He had that “it” that was hard to find - that star power.
As Jimmy was saying his good-byes, the director approached. “Mr. Bernstein called and he’d like you to head over to his office now, if you can.”
Jimmy, finding the studio a bit confusing to navigate, finally made his way to the office that had started all of this. He was ushered immediately into Larry Bernstein’s office. The studio head plied Jimmy with questions. “Did you have any difficulty with the screen test?” Jimmy replied that he didn’t. “Do you like acting?” Yes, he guessed. “Can you handle stardom? Will it change you? Can you treat your fans properly?” Jimmy just replied that he didn’t see any problems with any of that. Bernstein informed Jimmy that he was going to sign him to a contract for nine hundred seventy-five dollars a week. That would increase to fifteen hundred when he completed four pictures. His first picture would be Mob Enforcer. He was going to star in it. “Tell me your full name,” he asked Jimmy.
