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finding al
Photo: courtesy of kelly riess
New Capone documentary a journey through history by ADAM HAWBOLDT
K
elly-Anne Riess was standing in a field in the middle of nowhere. A field somewhere near the Saskatchewan/U.S. border. The vast prairie sky, like an inverted ocean,was sprawling all around her. On the horizon, a thunderstorm was rolling in. “God’s country,” thought Riess to herself. “I can see why Al Capone would call it that.” For the previous few months Riess and her research team had been chasing ghosts, working a cold case. Trying to prove (or disprove) the legends and folklore that link the notorious Chicago gangster Al Capone to this province. And there in that field, with the sky turning dark, the comment Capone made about Saskatchewan being
God’s country — a comment she heard second-hand from Capone’s niece, Deirdre — really hit home. “Working on something like this, sometimes you have these moments when you’re connected to the past,” says Riess. “You’re looking at a landscape like that, a landscape someone else was looking at in the same way, and you can’t help but wonder.”
Stories about Al Capone have been swirling around these parts for decades. Tales about the barber who cut his hair in Moose Jaw. Stories about the dentist in the same town who allegedly pulled his wisdom teeth, and about the purported court documents in nearby Regina that link Al Capone to a shipment of bad liquor.
The problem is, most of these stories are backed by very little evidence. Sure, there are the tunnels in Moose Jaw which were used during prohibition to help run bootleg liquor to the States. And sure, these tunnels used to contain the speakeasies, casinos and brothels. But was Al Capone ever there? His name has never turned up in old hotel registries. There isn’t a single photo that shows the 1920s gangster hanging out in Moose Jaw. In fact, the closest thing that says Capone ever visited Saskatchewan comes from the dentist’s appointment book. In it, there’s a record of one Al Brown — a well-known Capone alias — having work done. But seeing as Al Brown is such a common name, is that evidence enough? Kelly-Anne Riess didn’t think it was. So last year she and her research team began digging into the shifting sands of the past, trying to unlock the truth about the Capone-Saskatchewan connection for a documentary called Finding Al. What they found might surprise you.
When that first email arrived, KellyAnne Riess wasn’t sure what to expect. To find Al Capone, or at least find people with stories about him, she set up a website and started talking to the media. Riess worked on getting the word out there that they were opening an investigation into the past. For a while not much happened. Then came a message from a former Moose Jaw city councillor. He told
Riess he’s spent time in the ‘80s investigating the tunnels where Capone was rumoured to have hung out. Riess invited the councillor to be interviewed; he accepted. And on a cool summer day last August the councillor, a laidback, bearded man, sat down and told Riess how, one day, he had pulled back a manhole cover in Moose Jaw that led to a secret chamber, possibly a storage space for bootlegged liquor. The bearded councillor insisted there must be some truth to the Capone stories. “Why would all these different people lie about them?” he asked. Riess was wondering the same thing. And as more and more people came forward, that wonder grew. There was the rodeo clown who confirmed that River Street was indeed a bad place full of vice back in the 1920s. There was the farmer from just outside Weyburn whose grandfather, a known bootlegger, used to throw big parties for bootleggers where they’d drink and shoot machine guns into air. The farmer claimed his grandfather knew Capone, and had business meetings with Capone’s gang in Chicago. He also mentioned something else that piqued Riess’ interest — a supposed ledger and picture that would connect Capone to Saskatchewan. But the family was divided on how public they wanted to make these items, and the trail ran cold. Other tips came in. And in between, Riess spent time looking at old rum houses near the U.S./Canadian border. She spent time working with a genealogist to help authenticate the stories
she’d heard. She even went searching for the purported court record that links Capone to Regina. The search for that document continues. Then one day, not so long ago, Riess received perhaps the best tip of all. It came from Capone’s grandniece. Deirdre. The one who mentioned how her uncle used to call Saskatchewan “God’s country.” And the tip? Well, it wasn’t so much of a tip as a piece of evidence that may blow the case wide open. See, Deidre claims to have a photo that connects Capone to this area. A photo Riess is hoping to get a better look at when Deidre visits Moose Jaw this week to give a talk at the Mae Wilson Theatre. Maybe Riess will recognize something familiar in the photo. A building or a landscape. Maybe it will be the piece of evidence that proves, once and for all, that all the legends and folklore surrounding Capone and Saskatchewan are true. And maybe, just maybe, it will provide a justification for the way Riess felt that day standing on the border, a thunderstorm rolling in. The feeling that, yes, she was indeed connected to the past and stood looking at the same awe-inspiring sky that Capone once gazed upon. Only time will tell … Feedback? Text it! (306) 881 8372
@VerbRegina ahawboldt@verbnews.com
5 Aug 23 – Aug 29 @verbregina
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