She shoved him into the center of the floor, where he sprawled tremblingly on hands and knees. And there he took it. Four guns blazed, and the gangster collapsed with four bullets in his body.
The Gopher who had been the sweetheart of Ida the Goose then stepped forward, and as was his right according to the niceties of gang procedure, put the finishing touches to the job with a bullet through the brain. Then the four Gophers turned on their heels and went into the street. And behind them, at a respectful distance, walked Ida the Goose, glowing with pride that such a great battle had been fought for her favors. And nevermore did she stray from Hell’s Kitchen.
Big Jack Zelig’s name was William Alberts. He was born in Norfolk street in 1882 of respectable Jewish parents, and began his criminal career at the age of fourteen, when he ran away from home and became one of Crazy Butch’s fleet of juvenile pickpockets. He was an apt pupil with a real gift for thievery, and made such rapid progress that within a year he had deserted the Fagin and was operating with great success on his own account, roUing lushes and deftly lifting pocket-books and jewelry from the crowds which thronged the Bowery and Chatham Square. He was a slight, thin-faced little boy, with enormous brown eyes which filled with tears and such a look of horror when he was arrested that his accuser’s heart was melted and the complaint withdrawn.
One man from whom Zelig had stolen a pocketbook and a valuable diamond ring was so overcome with remorse at having accused the innocent-appearing lad that he bought the young thief a new suit of clothing, and pressed money upon him. Zelig retained his childish appearance until he was in his early twenties, but when he had grown tall and lanky and his tear-filled eyes were no longer effective, he devised another scheme to thwart justice. Whenever he was arraigned a frail girl came timidly into the court room and wept, and pleaded with the Magistrate:
“Oh, Judge, for God’s sake, don’t send my boy husband, the father of my baby, to jail!”
Few hearts in the lower strata of the judiciary were hard enough to resist the tears and the agony in the girl’s voice, and Zelig was invariably released with a warning; he was advised to be a good boy and go home to his wife and baby, of which he had neither. But at length Zelig came before Recorder John W. Goff, later a Justice of the Supreme Court and a jurist of exceptional balance. The Recorder listened patiently until the girl had finished, then gently ordered her removed from the room and gave Zelig the first of his many jail sentences. Having served her purpose, the girl thereafter dropped out of sight, and to procure the protection which he required Zelig joined Monk Eastman’s gang. He soon became a prominent figure throughout the underworld, and was noted for his proficiency in the use of revolver and blackjack. When Eastman was sent to prison Zelig probably ranked next to Kid Twist and Richie Fitzpatrick in the chieftain’s confidence. Zelig was loyal to Twist during the latter’s war with Fitzpatrick over the succession, and after Twist’s death he proposed to Jack Sirocco and Chick Tricker that they divide the gang into three factions and permit the gangsters to make a choice of leaders. The most eminent of the Eastman thugs and killers cast their fortunes with Zelig, and as his fame increased his following was augmented by ambitious youths anxious to display their prowess as sluggers and gunmen. Perhaps the most celebrated of the newcomers were Gyp the Blood, Lefty Louis, Dago Frank and Whitey Lewis, who won enduring renown as the gunmen in the Rosenthal murder case. Their real names were Harry Horrowitz, Louis Rosenberg, Frank Cirofici and Jacob Siedenshner. Horrowitz’s comrades originally called him Gib the Blood, but Gib had a harsh sound and the reporters soon changed it to Gyp, and it was as Gyp the Blood that he went hurtling down the corridors of gang history.
What time he was not working on commissions for Jack Zelig, or robbing drunken men in the Bowery dives. Gyp the Blood was a sheriff and gorilla at the cheap dances of the East Side; he soon became known as the best bouncer since Monk Eastman, which was no light praise. He possessed extraordinary strength, and frequently boasted that he could break a man’s back by bending him over his knee. Moreover, he performed the feat several times before witnesses; once, to win a bet of two dollars, he seized an inoffensive stranger and cracked his spine in three places. He also became an expert revolver shot, and was extremely accurate at throwing a bomb, a task in which he delighted. “I likes to hear de noise,” he explained. As an independent venture Gyp the Blood captained the Lenox Avenue Gang, a small band of burglars and pickpockets who operated uptown around 125th street. Whitey Lewis had been a third-rate pugilist, but under Big Jack’s tutelage he became a blackjack artist of rare merit and a gunman of distinction. Lefty Louis was primarily a pickpocket, although he never hesitated to accept a gun job, while Dago Frank was proud of his wide reputation as a killer, and sneered at any task which did not hold a promise of bloodshed. He is said to have had six notches on his gun before the Rosenthal murder, and Val O’Farrell, a noted Central Office detective who was widely known in the underworld as one of the Three Musketeers—the others were his partners, Kinstler and Duggan—once described him as the toughest man in the world. Dago Frank had been a member of the Chick Tricker faction, but Tricker failed to provide sufficient action to satisfy his turbulent spirit, and he withdrew and enlisted under Zelig. He had a girl called Dutch Sadie, who was also a noted fighter; she carried a huge butcher knife in her muff, and frequently employed it to good effect when her lover was hard pressed.
With such gifted thugs as these at his command. Big Jack Zelig carried on his various activities with great success, and for several years did a big business in slugging, stabbing, shooting, and bomb throwing. He was very reasonable in his demands upon his clients; his range of prices was very wide, and occasionally, if the person to be assaulted was not prominent and there was slight chance of an extensive police investigation, he waived his fee and repaid himself by confiscating whatever valuables the victim might possess. One of Zelig’s henchmen once told a detective that these were the rates quoted by the gang leader, although they were increased slightly for work of great danger:
Slash on cheek with knife............$1 to $10
Shot in leg .........................1 to 25
Shot in arm ........................5 to 25
Throwing a bomb....................5 to 50
Murder..........................10 to 100
But even with murder and mutilation so cheap, there were slack seasons, and Zelig’s pockets were not always lined with gold. Finding himself short of cash on a night late in 1911, when he wished to make an impression upon a new sweetheart, he invaded an East Side bordello and robbed the landlady of eighty dollars. Contrary to custom, she complained to the police, and the detective who was sent to remonstrate with Zelig and urge him to exercise greater caution found the gang chieftain in a sullen and fractious mood. A quarrel followed and Zelig was arrested, and when the sergeant at the police station found a loaded revolver in his pocket he was charged not only with robbery but with carrying concealed weapons as well. Facing the possibility of a long jail sentence because of his previous convictions, Zelig asked Tricker and Sirocco to call upon the woman whom he had robbed, return the eighty dollars and put the fear of hell into her heart, so that she would not testify against him. This Tricker and Sirocco failed to do, but the woman was finally threatened by an emissary of Jimmy Kelly, who owned a dive in the Bowery and captained a small gang. When she confronted Zelig she swore that she had never seen him before, and that he did not even resemble the man who had robbed her. The accusation of robbery thus collapsed, and the gangster’s political connections quickly procured the dismissal of the charge of carrying concealed weapons. Within a few days Zelig was back in his old haunts, swearing vengeance upon Tricker and Sirocco. He had not been out of jail more than a few hours when he met Tricker in the street, and backing him into a doorway pressed a revolver against his stomach:
‘I’ll get you for not helping me,” said Zehg.
Less than two hours later he made the same threat to Sirocco, emphasizing it b
y rubbing the barrel of his revolver against Sirocco’s nose.
“Inside of a week,” said Zelig, “you and Tricker will be cooked.”
Tricker and Sirocco promptly took measures for their protection, and the word went forth that there would be great rejoicing if Big Jack Zelig should depart this life suddenly in a proper atmosphere of mystery. Early in the evening of December 2, 1911, Julie Morrell, an independent thug with a reputation as a killer, wandered into a Fourteenth street saloon and got into conversation with Ike the Plug, ostensibly a pickpocket, but in reality Zelig’s secret agent and spy, and the source of much of the gan-gleader’s information as to what went forward in the enemy’s camp. Morrell’s tongue had been loosened by heavy drinking, and he confided to Ike the Plug that he had a commission to kill Big Jack Zelig, and that he intended to perform the task that very night in a very spectacular fashion.
“I’ll fill that big Yid so full of holes he’ll sink!” boasted Morrell.
Down at Stuyvesant Casino in Second avenue the Boys of the Avenue were giving their annual grand ball and entertainment, an important social function sponsored by Jack Zelig and attended by his gangsters in force, wearing their dress suits and with their ladies on their arms. Thither hurried Ike the Plug and informed Zelig that Julie Morrell was gunning for him, and would doubtless be along presently. Zelig had been sitting near the door, graciously greeting his henchmen as they entered the hall, but as soon as Ike the Plug had reported, the chieftain moved to a table across the dance floor, where he had a clear view of the entrance. At one o’clock in the morning Julie Morrell appeared, but he had been drinking steadily to nerve himself to his task, and when he rolled into the Casino he could scarcely stand, and his revolver dangled loosely from his hand. Nevertheless, he staggered onto the dance floor and stared about him.
“Where’s that big Yid Zelig?” he shouted. “I gotta cook that big Yid!”
Zelig spoke sharply, and the dancers scattered. The next instant the lights were extinguished. There was one shot, and when the police came Julie Morrell lay on the floor with a bullet in his heart. Zelig had vanished, and was not found for two weeks, when detectives lured him to an East Side corner by signing his sweetheart’s name to a decoy letter. He was arrested, but was promptly released. With another notch in his gun—at least in the opinion of the underworld, where he was given credit for killing Morrell—he proceeded to make things interesting for Tricker and Sirocco. Several times during the next week he sent detachments of his gangsters into territory which was considered the especial province of the Sirocco gangsters, and held up their saloons and gambling houses. Raids were also made upon Tricker’s dives, while Tricker and Sirocco retaliated in kind by invading the Zelig district and interfering with the conduct of Big Jack’s business affairs. Whenever a Zelig gangster met one of a rival clan there was a fight, and within two weeks half a dozen men had been shot or stabbed. A Sirocco gangster was killed during a battle in the lower Bowery, and when there was no immediate punitive expedition the Zeligs became bolder, and with great daring forced their way into Jack Pioggi’s dive in Doyers street, in the very heart of the enemy territory.
Chick Tricker had come downtown that night to look after some of his East Side interests, and was in Pioggi’s when Zelig and half a dozen of his thugs rushed in, each man with a blazing revolver in either hand. They emptied their weapons, but their haste was great and their aim inaccurate, and no one was hurt. The arrival of reinforcements for Tricker and Sirocco forced Zelig to retreat without accomplishing anything except the smashing of windows and bar fixtures. The next morning policemen arrested Zelig and half a dozen of his henchmen, but they were quickly bailed out by professional bondsmen procured by the politicians. But Zelig had scarcely left the Criminal Courts Building when a gangster who had been lurking in the shadow of the Tombs rushed across the street and fired three shots at him. Zehg fell with a bullet behind his ear, and detectives promptly seized Charley Torti, a member of the Sirocco gang. A desperate fight ensued when Torti’s companions attempted to rescue him, but the police wielded their clubs with great vigor and held on to their prisoner.
But even the shooting of Zelig and the arrest of Torti did not halt the war. Next evening, while Zelig lay at the point of death in a hospital, eight of his thugs piled into two taxicabs and swept past Chick Tricker’s saloon in the Bowery, firing shot after shot at him when he came to the door in response to a yell. Tricker dropped flat on his stomach and emptied two revolvers at the rapidly moving automobile. He was not injured, but Mike Fagin, a hanger-on about the dive, was shot in the leg, and every window and glass panel in the resort was shattered. Tricker and Sirocco immediately mobilized their gangs, and the fighting continued throughout the night, the almost constant crack of revolvers and the shouts of the struggling gangsters throwing the whole East Side into confusion. Four Zelig men shot a Sirocco thug in the doorway of a Bowery saloon at midnight, and two hours later a dozen of Zelig’s henchmen and as many Tricker and Sirocco gangsters clashed at Ninth street and Second avenue. There was a wild fusilade of shots, and one of either side fell to the sidewalk with serious wounds. Before dawn the gangs had engaged in nine pitched battles in which revolvers were used, while at a score of places individual thugs met and fought desperately with knives and blackjacks. Alarmed by the extent of the conflict. Police Headquarters stationed detectives at all of the known haunts of the gangsters early next morning, and every man who entered was searched for weapons, and some of the lesser thugs were hustled off to police stations. Chick Tricker himself was taken into custody, but was released almost immediately. Despite these measures and the appeals of the politicians, the fighting continued for about a week longer, when the police arrested nineteen of the thugs and confiscated a cartload of revolvers, daggers, blackjacks, brass knuckles, stilettos, and other weapons. Such unusual activity frightened the gang leaders, and they abandoned their feud in the interests of self-preservation.
SEVERAL years before his war with the Jack Sirocco and Chick Tricker gangs. Big Jack Zelig began to exploit an ancient source of gang revenue in a manner which was to have far-reaching consequences; it resulted in his downfall and eventually became an important factor in the overthrow of the gangs. Zelig continued to rob the cheap stuss and dice games of the lower East Side, for these places were the pariahs of the underworld and had scant police and political connections; but he formed alliances with the owners of the more pretentious houses and furnished gunmen for their protection; on their behalf his gangsters blackjacked proprietors of rival places, wrecked their establishments with bombs, informed against them to the District Attorney and honest police officials, and cowed their customers by frequent raids and displays of force. Although he retained his hold upon the lower part of Manhattan, these new activities compelled Zelig to spend considerable time in the Times Square district, for the Roaring Forties just north of the old Tenderloin had become the center of the gambling industry; there was scarcely a street from Fortieth to Fiftieth and from Fifth to Eighth avenues which could not boast of at least half a dozen first-class gambling houses.
This area was also the heart of the theatrical and night life of the city, and contained many famous places of varying degrees of respectability. Jack’s Restaurant, famous for its Irish bacon and its flying wedge of waiters who ejected obstreperous customers with a minimum of motion and a maximum of efficiency, was open day and night at Sixth avenue and Forty-third street, and was a favorite resort of writers and newspaper men, who also foregathered at Joel’s, a chili con carne place in West Forty-first street near Seventh avenue. Rector’s celebrated restaurant and cabaret was at Broadway and Forty-fourth street, while a block south, on the other side of Broadway, was Shanley’s, where the noted Bat Masterson could be found each night in the grill spinning yarns of the Western plains in the days when he and Wild Bill Hickok were boon companions and fellow man-hunters. The Knickerbocker Hotel Bar, with Maxfield Parrish’s famous painting of Old King Cole above the shining mahoga
ny and the glistening bar glass, was at Broadway and Forty-second street, while across Broadway was Considine’s Café, much frequented by racing men and pugilists. It was there that the contracts for all the big prize fights were signed amid an imposing array of champagne bottles. Just below Considine’s the Opera Café was striving unsuccessfully to enforce a rule requiring all customers to wear evening dress, and farther south, in Thirty-ninth and Thirty-eighth streets, Bustanoby’s, the Normandie Grill, and the Café Maxim maintained the tradition of Satan’s Circus. During a part of this period, until December, 1913, the Haymarket was still in operation, but was a sad relic of its former splendour, while another similar dive was the German Village, in Seventh avenue. Many assignation houses and places of prostitution remained in the Hay-market area, around Sixth and Seventh avenues in the twenties and thirties. Some of these resorts were very up to-date; they were equipped with cash registers, and the inmates received brass checks which they cashed at the end of each week.
On Broadway between Forty-second and Forty-third streets was Redpath’s Café, where gifted bartenders concocted extraordinary Ramoz fizzes and Sazerac cocktails. The Astor Hotel Bar at Forty-fourth street, now, alas, occupied by a shirt shop and a drug store, was justly famous for its Astor Hotel No. I, a potent mixture of grape juice and Swedish rum, while during the Christmas holidays great bowls of eggnog and Tom and Jerry sat on the bar ready for serving. Churchill’s, at Broadway and Forty-eighth street, was one of the best restaurants in the city, and also offered an excellent cabaret performance; its owner. Captain Jim Churchill, was a noted figure of the time. At Seventh avenue and Fiftieth street, some three blocks north and east of Churchill’s, was the Garden, a favorite resort of college boys and visiting buyers, for it had the hottest show in town. Scores of cabarets, lobster palaces, restaurants, and bars of almost equal importance dotted Broadway and the side streets from Thirty-fourth street to Columbus Circle and beyond, and there was laughter, music, life and color, where today there is the drabness of orange drink stands and chop suey restaurants, and the dizzy gaudiness of moving picture palaces.
The Gangs of New York Page 31
