The Penny Ferry da-2

by Rick Boyer

  1. He wanted the location of all phone booths in the North End near busy streets. Considering their rapid disappearance in favor of phone "enclaves," this wouldn't be difficult.

  2. To check my theory, he requested information from Massport on any large vessels moored, anchored, or in transit near the North End on the day in question.

  3. He called Sam Bowman at Dependable Messenger Service and requested further details on Johnny's errand to the library and the North End. Sam said he'd call back shortly with all the dope.

  "Let's get coffee," said Brian, and while we sat in the police squad room and sipped, Joe's headquarters called back and gave us the location of four phone booths that would answer the set of variables he had described. They also said Massport had given them the names of three big ships in the vicinity of the North End on the previous Friday. One, a cargo container vessel named Dunmore Hughes No. 8, out of Bantry Bay in the Republic of Ireland, was making her way down the Mystic River channel from the Charlestown port terminal to Boston Harbor at exactly three bells.

  Then Sam Bowman called back. We went back to Brian's office, where Joe took the call. His face clouded over. The big brown eyes took on a steely hard squint, and the mouth turned down at the corners. He was unhappy about something.

  "Sam, say those two names again please, real slowly." He scowled.

  "Uh-huh. Yes, I know them. They're very familiar. I just wanted to make sure. It's just that when I hear those two names, Sam, I get a knot in my stomach and want to slug somebody. What? You don't understand? Well let's see now, what happens to you when I say Scottsboro Boys?"

  Through the receiver end of the phone Brian and I could hear faint yelling and cursing, even though the phone was pressed to Joe's ear.

  "Well I thought so. So you see how it upsets me when I hear the names of Sacco and Vanzetti."

  "Sacco and Vanzetti?" said Brian.

  "Sacco and Vanzetti!" I said.

  "Sacco and Vanzetti," reaffirmed Joe, who hung up and sat down wearily. He picked up his mug to take a sip; his hands were trembling. None of us said anything for a while. Then Joe spoke.

  "Johnny's errand was to retrieve a portion of papers and effects willed to the Boston Public Library by the late Dominic Santuccio, a lawyer in the North End and a second-generation Italian-American. The papers and effects all concern the Sacco-Vanzetti case."

  He stopped there and sipped again. His hands were still shaking. We nodded at his statement, as if listening to a university lecture. He continued.

  "I met Dom a few times in connection with court cases and Italian-American functions and benefits. Nice guy, and rich. His obsession was collecting and verifying documents and evidence relative to the case. Like most of us he was certain the men were framed. He hoped to write a book proving their innocence and restoring their reputations. He was not popular with a lot of establishment people for wanting to do this. He died three months ago of cancer and never got the chance to do it."

  "Yeah, I remember reading about him," said Brian. "What do you mean, us? You said that like most of us he was certain they were framed-"

  "I mean us Italians, naturally. And also anyone who feels sympathy for the working-c1ass immigrants in general. Sacco and Vanzetti committed no crime; they were radicals who questioned the system and fought for workers' rights, so the system big shots had them executed. So it's, ah, no surprise that I get a little upset when I even hear the case mentioned."

  "I'm glad to hear you've got the case so goddamned buttoned up," said Brian, who was swiveling his chair around, back and forth,"because I've read about a lot of evidence that says they were guilty. Guilty as all hell of murder and armed robbery. The only reason, in fact, that a lot of idealists and artists thought they were railroaded is because of the propaganda stirred up for them by the Communists and Wobblies."

  He leaned back and swiveled like a semaphore. If he was trying to get a rise out of Joe, then it worked. "

  "Oh yeah? Well what about that blackguard and murderer Michael Collins? Bloodthirsty pig- it's a good thing. De Valera had him murdered, even though it was a double-cross. Of course, what would you expect from-"

  "Don't you ever call Michael Collins a murderer," snapped Brian. "And don't ever accuse Eamon De Valera of killing him. Why I'd-"

  "Now hold on a minute, you guys. Can't we just discuss- "

  "Sacco and Vanzetti were doomed from the start. The mill owners and industrialists wanted them dead. Demanded their death. The trial was a mockery. Evidence was altered. Witnesses were led. A new trial would've-"

  "Bullshit, Joe. You can't argue with a ballistics test. At least one fatal bullet was fired from Sacco's gun. Lots of reliable witnesses identified Vanzetti as one of the gunmen. When they were arrested, both men lied about what they had been doing. Both men were armed, too, with weapons like those used in the holdup."

  Joe slammed his palms down on the table and jumped up, shaking his finger at Brian's face.

  "Hannon, you don't deserve to be a police chief if you believe all that crap. There's a logical explanation for each of the things you mentioned, and the fact that they were even issues at the trial and turned against the men proves a conspiracy to obstruct justice. And as for that bullet, it's a direct misquoting of the witness summoned. A lie!"

  "All I know is what I read, Joe."

  "You don't know much. Those poor guys were tried and convicted not because of what they did, but because of what they were: working men, radicals, foreigners… Italians."

  Then Brian really muddied the waters by remarking that maybe that wasn't so far off the mark, considering that Italians practically invented crime in America.

  To which Joe replied- shouted back is better, actually- that ninety-eight percent of Italians were peaceable and law-abiding, and if Brian implied, directly or indirectly, that they were violent, he would personally take Brian's head off.

  To which Brian replied- shouted back is better, actually- that the Irish never, as commonly supposed, looked for a fight, but if Joe wanted to start something with him, he personally knew of a place in Southie where seven or eight strapping young Sons of Erin would take delight in performing the Kilkenny two-step on Joe's face.

  To which Joe replied But before he could reply the door to Brian's office burst open and two boys in blue, their batons drawn, jumped into the room.

  "Everything all right, Chief?" asked the bigger one. "We heard shouting and-"

  "It's okay, 'guys," I said calmly. "It's just two officers of the law about to commit murder."

  Brian dismissed them, and I got each combatant to his neutral corner. They glowered at each other over the table.

  "I, uh, gather that the Sacco-Vanzetti case is fraught with externals. It's surrounded by issues of ethnicity and class. One might even say the judicial system was on trial as well as the defendants."

  "Right, Doc. The trial did not prove they were guilty; it proved a man who didn't speak good English, didn't have a lot of money and prestige, and didn't agree a hundred percent with the exploitation of immigrants could not get a fair trial."

  Brian started to say something,. bit his lip a little, then said it anyway.

  "But it's not by any means certain they were innocent," he said.

  "Let's get back to Johnny Robinson," I suggested before Joe could reply. "Who's this Andy fellow he mentions?"

  "Sam told me he's Andrea Santuccio, Dom's son. I've never met him. Johnny went to the Boston Public Library as planned at eleven on Friday and retrieved a certain parcel of letters and transcripts, given to the library by Andy after Dominic's death. Apparently this certain parcel was especially controversial or something. Anyway, Andy later fought for a special injunction to get it back. I guess he wasn't aware of what the packet contained at first. When the court ruled that the Santuccio family was entitled to reclaim part of the papers, Andy immediately hired Johnny to pick them up and deliver them back to the Santuccio home in the North End. Clear so far?"

  We nodded, a
nd Joe continued.

  "But when Johnny got to the Santuccio house apparently nobody was home. The mother died over ten years ago and Andy is the only surviving member of the family. He's also a bachelor, I guess. The fact that Andy wasn't there altered Johnny's plans. Andy was supposed to be waiting there but wasn't. So Johnny hiked over to Cambridge for the other errands, went to get your fancy dental work, Doc, and at the end of the day hoofed it back to the North End. Remember, all this time he's carrying the hot papers for Andy right in his pouch. We don't know, but we can assume that Johnny called you either right before or right after he went back to the Santuccio house a second time."

  "And delivered the papers?" asked Brian.

  "No. And did not deliver the papers."

  "How do you know, Joe?" I asked.

  " 'Cause the asterisk was still there in the log, indicating a nondelivery. Sam said that before he called me back just now he called Andy's number. No answer. Now I'm going to try again."

  And he did. Still no answer.

  "Doc," he said wearily, "are you beginning to get the same queasy feeling I am?"

  "Yep. I assume you're thinking that the guy in the chimney just might be-"

  "Andrea Santuccio. The guy who was supposed to take possession of the papers but who wasn't there to get them."

  "Where's that body now? In Boston?"

  "It's en route from a Lowell funeral home to the Suffolk County morgue, where the autopsy will continue in greater detail. It may be there already. I'm going to make sure some locals from Hanover Street get a look at the corpse. Now."

  So he got on the phone again to Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. to have some bluecoats from the North End take a peek at the grisly body we'd found in the chimney. But it wasn't necessary. As soon as the remains had come into the morgue it was identified. A subsequent check with dental records confirmed that the man was indeed Andrea Santuccio, son of the late and renowned Dominic.

  "Well," sighed Joe as he twiddled a pencil between his big fingers, "at least we know why Johnny was killed, though it'll be small comfort to Sam."

  "And a lot of us policemen," said Brian. "Can you work up some sort of scenario on this thing?"

  Joe rubbed, his stubble and thought for a minute. His face darkened.

  "Old Dom Santuccio had those papers for years. He always claimed he'd uncover some kind of evidence that would clear Sacco and Vanzetti. But he obviously never did or he'd have been pounding on the governor's door night and day, shouting and screaming. Old Dom was quite a character- a fire-eater. Finally, about a year before he diedhe had the cancer already and was on all kinds of drugs- he said he'd have a great announcement to make. One that would shake the world. Trouble is, nobody would believe him. Including me. He was batty by then from the pain and the drugs. Then he had a stroke and lost his speech and most of his memory. Andy had to hospitalize him because he got so violent. Now I say this, and I don't like to, being Italian: if there's anything hot in that pack of papers, I'm afraid it's something that drives the last nail in the coffin of Sacco and Vanzetti. If not, then why didn't he let it out?"

  "Why did he will the papers to the library then?"

  "He didn't. After he died, his son, Andy, donated them."

  "Now wait," said Brian. "Is there anyone who'd go haywire if they knew the stuff had gone into the public domain? If so, they'd be mighty annoyed at Andy. Mad enough to kill him."

  We all considered in silence for a minute. Then Joe cleared his throat and raised his big bloodhound eyes up at us.

  "Okay. Assuming the evidence is damning- and I can reach no other conclusion- then there's only one logical candidate for a group who'd get totally unglued at the mere thought of its revelation."

  "Who?" asked Brian..

  "Ever hear of the Sons of Italy?"

  "Oh no. No way," I said.

  "That's what I hope too. After all, I'm a lifetime member."

  "Say it ain't so, Joe," I said.

  "I hope- I hope to God it ain't so, Doc."

  There was more silence. Then Brian spoke.

  "Wait a minute, Joe. Wasn't Andy in Sons of Italy?"

  "Sure. One of the real leaders, and so- oh shit. I see what you mean. They certainly wouldn't harm him. In fact, the Sons wouldn't hurt anybody… I don't think."

  "Here's what happened," I said. "After old Dom's death Andy, being a good citizen and interested in the case and his father's lifelong passion, donates the papers. Fine. Then sometime later, and we'll probably never know how, he discovers that there's something hot in the papers: a potential bombshell. He has to get the papers back to save the last vestiges of Sacco and Vanzetti's tarnished reputation. Because if scholars dig out the facts and publish them, every American, and especially every Italian-American, will have to face the truth- that Sacco and Vanzetti were indeed robbers and killers. Right?"

  "That's it. So far so good… But, he also knows that somebody else wants the papers. Or else why hire Johnny Robinson?"

  "Yeah, but who wants them?"

  "I don't know," said Joe. "But I've seen the archives room at the Boston Public and it's a virtual vault. The people who wanted the papers would have to take them from Andy after he got them back, or else during the delivery itself."

  "It would seem to me that taking them from Andy would be easier and safer," I said.

  "Yeah, but you don't know the North End like I do. It's the tightest of all the Boston neighborhoods. Maybe they thought pulling something against Santuccio on his home turf would be very risky, so they took or lured young Andy away from the meeting with Johnny. Maybe they thought he already had the packet. Under interrogation, he tells them it's on its way via courier, but one glance at Johnny and the dogs and the thugs know it's no-can-do. So they know if Johnny can't make contact he'll either leave the packet at Dependable's office or take it home, where they set up the ambush-"

  "Doesn't sound right," I said. "Let's suppose that by eleven in the morning the bad guys already have custody of Andy away from his house. He tells them the drop is being made right then, and they're too late to connect. He describes Johnny to them- maybe they're already familiar with how formidable he is- and they set the ambush with the bomb by early afternoon. One or two guys are in Robinson's place waiting. Another guy, stations himself at the Santuccio house to see if Johnny comes back, which he does at around five. Still no Andy, so he leaves and starts home. He stops to call my office, knowing I'm waiting for the bridge. At that time he discovers he's being shadowed."

  "Right!"

  "Okay. So he's struck out twice with an important meeting with Andy and thinks he's being tailed. 'A complication, dontcha know,' he says. He's put two and two together and it spells trouble. But he's cool; he's been through worse. He does stop at Dependable to drop off the log sheet and get into his Cutlass to head for home. He takes his pouch with him because he wants to touch base with Andy, and me, over the weekend. Probably the lookout notices this, and calls ahead to some guy waiting; near a pay phone in Lowell. Johnny's coming home with his pouch: get ready."

  "Yeah. So the hit goes pretty much the way we figured it. As soon as he's dead they take Johnny's pouch and skip. They kill the Santuccio boy so he won't talk, and as an afterthought remove two of his digits."

  "Would you guys tell me what's happening?" asked Brian. So we did. And he thought about it..

  "But you said the boy was tortured too. That's terrible. It also has to be explained. Why torture the kid? Who would want to do that?"

  "Hatred," said Joe.

  "Maybe. But that's only one of the three reasons for torture," said Brian. "The other two are information, and the verification of information."

  "Ah yes. Well then, they tortured him in order to find out about Johnny and how to get their hands on the packet," I said.

  "Maybe," he said, "or maybe it happened afterward… Maybe they tortured and killed him as a last resort because they didn't get what they wanted."

  "They got it," said Joe. "We know they got the pouch; we
can't find it anywhere. Neither can Sam."

  Brian Hannon, set fire to a Lucky, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke stream out his nostrils like a dragon.

  "Mmmmm. You can't Find it. But that doesn't mean for sure that the bad guys have it. Yet. Johnny was no dumbbell. He was cool and sharp. Maybe he stashed the pouch at the last second.

  Who knows? All I say is, I say the torture thing is not only ugly, it's mysterious. It needs explaining. If I were you, Joe, I'd hang in there like a sash weight. Go at it tooth and nail; I'll help any way I can."

  We got up and left the chief's office. But Joe ducked back in to thank Brian, which I thought was nice. Then he said: "About that ballistics test performed at the Dedham trial. I just want you to know a few things about it, Brian, because like any cop I'm aware of how decisive they are nowadays. This was the first ballistics test and comparative analysis of fired bullets ever performed. The guy who did the test was a Massachusetts state cop, like me. His name was Captain William Proctor. My boss remembers him. Anyway, the results proved that one of the fatal bullets could have been fired from the pistol Sacco was carrying at the time of his arrest. Could have. What they didn't give Proctor a chance to say was that it could have been Fired from any thirty-two-caliber automatic. Later investigations by the defense showed that the spent cases had a peculiar mark on them made by an ejector claw common only to foreign-made automatics. Sacco carried a Colt. The defense later showed that the pistol that tired the bullet probably belonged to Antonio Mancini, a professional killer and member of the Morelli gang of Providence."

  Brian stared dumbstruck during this discourse. Then Joe and I headed for Old Stone Mill Road. I had a question that was gnawing at me.

  "Joe, if the defense proved that the bullet was probably tired by this other guy, then why didn't they let Sacco and Vanzetti off?"

  "Because they had already been electrocuted. Read the books on the case, Doc. It's not very pretty. The whole thing makes the Commonwealth look like a ninety-pound pile of dog doo."

  Mary was out shopping. I made a big sandwich for my brother-in-law, and while he ate lunch I drank two mugs of coffee and ate half a banana and some yogurt. While we ate I asked him lots of questions about the Sacco-Vanzetti case. Then he left for Ten-Ten Comm. Ave., taking the tapes with him. I returned to my office to look at X-rays and do preliminary work on a mandible resection that I was to perform the following week. After all my appointments I stopped at the library before going home, and emerged with seven books, all about Sacco and Vanzetti.