An Avon Orlpnal
SPECIAL NOTE
This Is an accurate account of current events of immediate public Interest, both educational and Informative, and . therefore of legitimate general concern. Incidents, as described in this book, have actually occurred. Dates, places and names have been · altered to avoid identification of persons and situations.
Copyright, ©, 1959, by Jeffrey Roche. Published by arrangement with the author. Printed in the U.S.A.
NAME: John Donald Matthews
ALIAS: 20 M 9U 000 19. L 2 Rool. ...
NUMBER OF PICTURE IN GALLERY: B227113
CRIMINAL RECORD: (asfar as known)
7-17-40 asJohn Trenton, GrandLarceny: Matthews N.J. Discharged.
12- 4-40 "
Larceny: 20 days. 3-15-41 "
11- 3-43 ,. 9-14-44 ,,
12- 4-45 .. 3-28-46 ..
11- 3-46 ,, 5-29-48 ,,
3-12-51 .. 9-18-51 "
Burglary: dis-
Fayetteville, Drunk: 30 days N.C. and $5.00.
Philadelphia, Manh. Grand LarPa. oeny, TOT N.J. auth., 10-3-44; 16 monthsCounty Penitentiary, Trenton,N. J•
Philadelphia,DyerAct: 2 Pa. months.
Trenton, Holdup: 6-7-46, N. J. timeserved. "
Larceny: 18 ,. .. .. months.
Holdup & robbery: 2 to 3 years.
Unlicensedoperation car and reekless driving: 190 days.
Assault & robbery: 3 to 5 years.
1- 5-54 ,, missed,grandjury.
Robbery: 18 months.
1-NO REFEREE IN THE STREET
I'm surprised I lived to finish this book. This isn'tthe story of adying man inthemedicalsense. There is nothing the matter with me physically except for a broken nose, an old gunshot wound in the hip and a scar here and there. I don't have any incurable disease. I'm young, so·to speak, in years--only thirty-nine. But I feelI've livedfora century. WhyamIsurprisedthat I'm still around? Why am I·worried? It's a fair question and deserves an honest answer.
Myoccupationisgoingtokillme.
I'ma "muscleman."
I play knuckles across faces for a living. And when work is coming my way, the pay is good. The mob boys pay me for action. I don't usea gun ora knife. Sometimes I use a sap, but most of the deals call for two fists anda fastfoot.
Of course, if you saw me in the street or in a gin mill, you wouldn't believe the bartender if he said.: "Don't bother that guy. He's rough and don't care who he hits as longashehitsfirst."
The reason you wouldn't believe the beer-slinger is that he'd be pointing to a little guy-a five-foot-eight shrimp type that probably jockeys a taxi around the streets. You wouldn't know that I pack one hundred and seventy pounds. No flesh. No pot.
The bartender just tells you because he knows I can
fightinthe ring or onthe street. AndI likethe alleyfights better. There's no referee in the street. You win or you don't, and rules-hell, who ever heard of rules in the gutter?
I hire out for the fast dollar. I've got to win, because there's no loser's share--no return bouts in Madison Square Garden. The mob boys pay on delivery. No excu.ses.
IfI don't dothejobandtakethe guy good, thenI don't work. I'd better blow the town and look for something else. And there's nothing else I can do. I'm like a guy on "hop." He needs the nose candy to live. I need tofight tolive.It'sassimpleasthat.
You paid your dough to read this book. Maybe right now you think this is just.a lot of talk. Maybe you're thinking, Who is this tough guy whose name is not wellknown like Frank Costello and Lucky Luciano? Scan this police record and remember this: I led the Jersey State Prison riots a few years ago. Any cop or con will tell you that only the toughest gu-ys lead prison riots. They're the boss men of the murderers, stick-up men, muggersandperverts, right down or upthelinetomusclemen.
Let's roll back the years to when I got started in the rackets. I was born in Trenton, New Jersey. My dad was very much on the side of the law. He was a magistrate in Mercer County. He started as a justice of the peace, but he was good with his fists. He could have whipped my ass any time. He used to play semi-pro baseball, and wanted me to become a lawyer. What a laugh that is today! Me,a lawyer! A con who hasto hire a mouthpiece to get himsel,f out of ajam! Mom and Dad-why the hell talk about_them? God love them, even if they disowned me. And I've got three legit brothers who don't know where I ar_n and probably care less. I don't blame them. I can't complain about the way I was brought up. We
just01dn't see eye to eye onwhat was right. They got disgusted with what I did for pleasure and with my brushes withthelaw.
At seventeen I took my first arrest, and it didn't scare me a damn. I had become importantfor the first time. It wasn't too bad that first time in the precinct. I didn't have a racket name, and everybody seemed to be on my side. Lectures poured over me from the cops and my dad. All I had done was batter a couple of guys. The police asked me, "Johnny, boy, why did you do this? What's the matter withyou?You got anice family andyou're smart."
My answer didn't sit too goodwith anybody. I just told thetruth.
"I did itbecauseI enjoyed it."
That was twenty-two years ago, and my answer hasn't changed much. I still like to belt a punk around. It's my trade, and I get paid better than the going wage for a muscleman. At least, I did until this year. Now I'm on the lam again from the mob boys, who don't like the names I'm going to name, and telling who did what to whom.
I was making a pretty fair name around Trenton as a hard guy who liked to mix it for kicks, and the racket boys like to sign up comersin their stablewho canhandle dirty jobs for them. i used to fight fair and square, but then I learned a lesson that I never forgot. It paid off.
One night I was sitting at the bar in ahonky-tonkjoint on �urman Street, minding my own business. I had a cute broad with me, and I was making a play _to impress her. It was a_tough place, and usually there were a dozen fights every night. A three-piece colored band was belting out a fast beat, when a little shrimp asked my dollfor a dance. I told the guy, politely, to take a powder. He didn't seem to understand, and-asked the doll again. I sto9d up and walked over to the little punk. Hell, I'd 9
fought amateur fights and could take this jerk! Man, I learned the facts of life in a hurry!
I started a jab to set him up. That's just about all I remember. He kicked me in the shin. I bent over and got shoe leather iµ the groin. Then something in the face. The gutter was my bedthat night, and the broad with me never spoke to me again. I'd learned a lesson the hard way. Then, I thought it was unfair. Now I know it's the only way. When you kid, you kid. When you fight, you fight towin. No rules.
I met the bastard a week later. It was no contest. I kicked him. He's married, but he can't have kids; and his face looks like a tmck ran over it.
From then on I was making a pretty fair name for myself around Trenton. One day in a· poolroom a fifthrate punk walks over to me.
"Johnny, boy," he says, tough-like, "I got a message for you."
"Take a blow, Jack. I ain't bothering with messages."
"Listen me out, Johnny D. You got a rep. Daylight Kelly wants you. He pays good for what you got to sell." That was enough for me. I needed dough bad. The family weren't kicking through, and running errands and bouncing guys in a poolroom didn't pay enough. This sounded good to me. Anybody around the Tenderloin district in Trenton knew the name Daylight Kelly. The head man in the pinball and juke box rackets. The bossman who got his name because he never got up in the winter until five in the afternoon and later in summer. He hated the sun, and operated at night.
TIJ.at was the start of my life in the rackets, and it sounded good to me.·This was to be my first real job; but I knew enough about the racket boys to play my hand hard. I looked young for eighteen, but I was betting my chips on my rep as a guywithfastfists and guts. Igrabbed a shine on the way over, for class, and spent the rest of 10·
my change on a pack of butts. Thesuit I woredidn'tlook toobad and didn't look too good, butI wasn'ttryingfora model job! I couldn't change because I didn't have another suit anyway. I wasn't worried about looking good. My rep wasn't built on fancy clothes.
Iwalked into a tavern on Ferry Street. The cops used to have a police car there every night to save time running to the fights. Nobody paid any attention to me, and I walked to the bar. I ordered a short beer and waited. I saw his stooges look me over. There was Pappy, Bucky, Frank and a crumb called Brownie. I took a sip, and then Daylight motioned for me to come over. I finished the beer and went to his table. The other punks just listened asDaylight spoke.
"Sit down, kid. I hear you can take care of yourself. I can use a kid like you. You want to work?" he says quietly.
I knew what to do, so I sat back and nodded and let him do the talking. I had tomakehimthinkheneededme morethanIneededhim, andI wasright.
"Okay, kid. You're on the payroll. Starting now." He reached in his pocket and handed me five yards.
"You get two and a half yards·a week. The rest is a present. You start now. It's a �eek's pay plus, kid."
I started tosayokay,whenthisguyFrankstoodupand laughed.
"Why, youlittle two-bitjerk! What thehellcanyoudo? I can take you with my left hand sitting down," he says tome.
No one else said a word. They just looked, and Daylightfoldedhishands.
I took a quick look at this six-foot slob and V£alked to the bar. I took a drink away from a broad and a beer bottle from a guy. Both of them break easy on a table, and I use them as boxing gloves. Frank took a look at me, andhewasn'thappy.
I knew this was no time to stop, and Ihadto make the play good. I walked over to him and kicked his shin. He bent, and I connected to the groin with the other footand shoved the glass in his face. No one said a word, and the fight was over. Daylight kind of smiled, and Ponzi, a fast. man with a shiv, walked over to me.
"Johnny D.," he says quietly. "You're in, but don't fightwiththeboys."
I tookhis advice and sat dmvnagain. This was goingto beeasy.
I askedDaylight just what bewanted me todo, andthe ordersweresimple.
"Johnny D., I want my pinball machines in a lot more places. I want them in fast, and I don't want no for an answer. You see that theownersofthesejoints get onour side. If you get in trouble don't say anything. Just wait forme. Ibear when anyof myboys gets picked up. Itake care of the lawyers and anything else. Don't mention my · name,anddon'tworry. Youstarttonight."
' I startedto workforDaylightanhourlater, butnotbefore we ate. I remember that meal like it was yesterday. I had veal scallopini and bot peppers. The rest had wine, but I only had a short beer. I never drink anything but beer when I work, and just short ones. When I'm playing and out with a broad I'll cabaret around and drink whisky, but not too much. You never know who's goingto be outside the honky-tonk when you leave.
That night I started out on my first job. Daylight gave me twenty-three places to visit, and I went to everyone of them. There was trouble in some, and it was a cinch in others. I learned quick and it paid off.
The trips became routine. A candy-store owner that didn't like the idea of changing machines or putting them in, got glass broken and a belting. A saloon got different treatment. First I took the bouncer and bounced him. Then, with one of my associates, I broke twenty or 12
thirty-bottles of whisky and turned the beer taps on. And the ownergot his, too. Nofavorites. Onetrip usuallyconvinced them: that we meant business and that cop-holleringwas awasteoftime.
I'd walkinto aginmillwithtwoofmyboys. Theywere all brawn and no brains. Strong backs are all they need as long as they know how to take orders when they're· told. My creeps would stand at the bar and I'd go sit at a table and order abeer. AfterI got adrink I'd walkover to the pinball machine and start playing.
After one or two shots, I'd tilt the machine and call theownerover.
"Mac," I'd tell him, "your machine is faulty. Who the hell is giving you these cheap machines? You ought to make achange. You'renotgettingafairshake."
The owner usually had a pretty fair idea why I was complaining and·knew therewould betroubleif he didn't. listen.
"Listen,mister,I gotnocomplaiats.Here's anickel and play it on the house. These machines are okay," he'd say.
While he talked I'd put on my leather gloves so I wouldn't hurtmy hands. Thatwas the signal for my boys to walk over, and they'd grab the guy. No rough stuff. They just held him and I smashed the glass.
"See how easy the glass breaks?" I'd say. "Your customersmightgethurt, andyouwouldn'twantthat,Mac."
Then I'd tum the machines over and let them crash. If the guy made a move;mycreeps would work him a little to convince him this was abusiness trip. Thiswas usually enoughtoconvincehimtoswitchhistrade.
"Listen, fellow, I don'twantnotrouble. Buthow about the guy who's already selling me?" he'd say.
I'd tell him that he had no worries-that I worked for a nice guy called Daylight Kelly, and part of our service was to guarantee no further trouble from anyone. The 13
owner would agree to take from us, and I'd tell him that a truck would be around the nex( morning with a couple of machines and a new juke box. I'd drop around just to see therewas no trouble in getting them installed. We'd throw the old machines and the juke box out in the street and tell the owner to call up the other salesman andtellhimaboutthechange.
One saloon keeper, Milt, didn't like theidea, and when I finished breaking the glass on his machines be told me · to go to hell. He thought he was tough and had connections. He had no guts, because after_I belted him three times he had a change of mind. He took the order, but overnight he started to play it cute. We got back in the morning with our truck and started to unload, when a county dick walked in, and a big smile car:ne over Milt's face. Even the bartender started to play hero and told my boys to blow. They stood still waiting for me to make my play.
I turnedtoMilt and the dick and laughed right in their faces. ·
"So you think you're pretty smart, Milt, and called in this punk? You got yourself some ideas since we talked. You're stilltaking ourmachines," I said.
Thenthecountydickthrewinhistwo-bits'worthofadvice. Iheardhimoutpolite-like.
"Listen, smart boy," he started. "I'm off duty, but Milt ismy friend. Youjusttake your machines andget the hell out of here. If you don't, then you andI are goingtotake awalktothestationhouse."
If he thought that worried me, he was as wrong as a guy can get. I told my boys to stand quiet and do nothing. I had my instructions for something like this. I went to thetelephone booth and calledDaylight. The call woke him up, and he asked for the telephone number of the booth. Isteppedout and told Mi.It and the dickto hold off for a couple of minutes. They said to hell with that and 14
to get my boys moving out of the joint. I told them we weren't moving. The dick began to act tougher, but the telephone rang and Milt answered it.
He came baclc and told the dick that the precinct was on the wire. The dick seemed surprised. He wasn't on the telephone more than a minute, and he was shook upwhen he came out. He walked over to Milt and me.
"Milt, I'm sorry. I got to go," he said.
The punk didn't say anything more. He just blew the joint, and Milt looked like he'd been slugged. I knew what ·he'd been told. Daylight had protection, and no plainclothesman was. going to walk in and interfere with our business-not when the payroll took care of such things.
I was sore at this unnecessary interruption, so we worked Milt and the hero bartender over for a few minutes. We never had any more trouble with them.
I felt elated with this job. I had a feeling of power. Now I was ·a big man and through with penny-ante poolrooms. I could break jaws, kick faces and have dough. I had protection from the racket boys, and life was great. Once or twice the owner of a store would cry like a baby and screamwhen he got hit. But Daylight wanted results and I was paid to see -that he got them. I like_g,the· pay, and the hell with the squawks.
I reported to Daylight every night, and he was pleased with the action I was giving him. Now and then we'd have to buy a little protection. There was a _dick that I bought cheap. Apunk detective called J---- M---He got one-fifty a month, and now he has a seventy-fivethousand-dollar home in New Jersey. He must have smartenedup after I left.
My record with Daylight for fourteen months was pretty·good. In fact, I'm pretty damn proud of it. When I started he had 2,100 places, and I built it up to 3,600 before I left. And now, when I look back, I know what a 15
jerk I was to work for him at that price. He took 70 per cent from every place, and the average take a week was at least $65. That was dough. And I was making it forhim.
- ButIthoughtIwas living good.I stayedwithmyfamily and didn't pay room or board until they kicked me out. My family got to hate me. They despised me. I always had a broad, and the dames thought I was great. I lived it upgood, but I wantedto do better andmake moredough. Trentonwasgettingtoosmall.
Thelast time IsawDad, Inearlyknockedhisteethout. I came home, and he was sore andslapped a butt out of my mouth. I busted him in the nose, and my brothers broke up the fight. It was time to leave Trenton, and I waswaitingfortheword.
11-PERSONAL BODYGUARD
The next day I moved out. It was time to leave home and Trenton, but I wanted time to think and make plans. I took a room for seven bucks a day at the Jersey Hotel on Broad Street. That was big money for those days, but I was sort of a celebrity and had to live in a classy joint. Therewasnothing to dooneevening,soI walked down to the local Democratic Club and ordered a beer. Tony, the bartender and bouncer, brought me a Seagram's and achaser�Iburned.
"Tony, boy, I ordered a beer. Changeit."
"You take'what I want you to have and pay for it."
Heturnedtoleave, and I kicked the glass onto the tile floor. Tony turned around and came back. I waited.
"John, I watched you grow up. I figured sooner orlater.
we'd clash. You owe fifty-five cents for the drink and twentycentsfortheglass.Pay."
Tony carried about 185 pounds, and it was muscle. There were two beer glasses on the table. I kicked them off and told him to put them on the bill. I didn't wait to gethisanswer-Ikickedhiminthegroin. Hedoubledup, and I drop-kicked him in the left side of the face. He wentdown like a ton ofbricks, and Iwalked all overhim fromhead to toes. You gotta give punks a lesson, or you losestanding.
Theownerwalkedovertome. FatsMoranwasn'tlookingfortrouble.Hegotrealpolite.
"What's the trouble, Johnny? Did you get the wrong order?"
"Yeah. Iwantaglassofbeer. Okaybyyou?"
Fatsbroughtme thebeer and told me three guys from Phillywantedto seeme. I looked downtheroom and saw themsittingatatable.
"Fats, if they want to see me, tell them to come over. I'llbehere."
A few minutes later they came over to the table and satdown. They didn't say who they are and I didn't care. Ilistened.
"Johnny, you ever hear of Frankie Meyer in Philly?" one of them said. "We hear that you're going to Philly.. How'dyouliketoworkforFrankie?"
I knew that I wanted to work for Meyer-he was the NumberTwo racket man there. But why tell these punks?
"Sure, I'm going to Philly, but I'm going legit. Tell Meyerto dropdead."
They left, and I finished my beer and left to see Daylight. NowI knewI was wantedinPhilly, butIhad to act lik� I didn't care. Daylight was kind of surprised to see me,andIgavehimthenewsquick.
"Daylight, I'm leavingTrenton. rmhurtingmy mother bystayinghereandgottogetoutoftown."
"If it's more dough, Johnny, you can have it here. Things are going good. But if you want to go, then do what you want. Do you want a knockdown to Frankie Meyer?" ..
I toldDaylight thatI didn't wantto ask for ajobthere-, but would play it my way. We shook hands and I left.
Philadelphia was a new place tome,_but I heard of the right place to go and make a little noise and then wait. I gota room andthenwentto the 33 Club and sat down at thebar and got a beer. I purposely elbowed the glass, and it broke on the floor. I told the bartender to give me anotherand put downa dime.He askedmefortwentycents morefortheglass.
"Take the dime and shut up, Mac. I'mthirsty."
The bouncer heard me and walked over. Like a damn fool he moved to my left and said, "Fella, be nice like themansays."
I gavehimthe usual routine and walkedlike an animal on him. The owner came over and smiled.
"Wheredoyouwork,kid?"
"Right here," I answered. "What do you pay?"
When he saidforty-fivebucks a week I laughed rightin hisface. Itoldhim the pricewas sixty the first week, and fromthenononehundred.
Atthe.end of the first week I got ayard plus food and drinks and a two-room apartment right over the joint. This was chicken feed and I knew it; but I was waiting forMeyertomakeamove.Hehadtocometome.
One nightthree weeks later, a noisy guy came into the place. He had a cauliflower ear and a punched-in nose, andlookedlikeanex-pug.Hestartedtogivethebartender trouble, and I went into my act. Drunks and fresh kids you don't hurt much; but this guy looked like trouble. I gottohisside.
"Finish your drink, bud, and scram," I told himnicely.
HelookedatmeasifIwasnuts.
"DoyouknowwhoIam?"hesays.
"Are you Jesus?'' I asked, and drank his drink. The sucker made a move. His left hand was slower than my foot, and his face bent to the ground and caught my knee on the upswing. I took him like a sack of potatoes and propped him up in the alley outside. I got a bucket of water and threw it on him and told him to get going whilehecould.
The owner didn't say anything, but I knew something was going to happen. It did-the next night about nine . o'clock. There weren't many people in the place, when four guys came in. One guy stayed near the door, two stood at the bar and the fourth sat at a table. One of the guysatthebarwalkedovertome.
"FrankieMeyer wantsto see you. He's at thetable."
"Okay, I'll go over. But you guys stay where you are."
I sat down at the table, and Meyer didn't waste any time getting to the point. I listened and kept an eye on theothers.
"You worked a guy pretty hard here last night," he said. "You know who it was? That was my kid brother. He's an ex-pug. A little stupid, but he'.s my brother. And don'tplay tough with me. I got three guys here and each hasapiece.T�ey'lltakeyoufast."
I knew they had rods with them. You can spot the bulgeeasy.
"Mr. Meyer, you're the customer. As long as you behave, you got no worries. Talk if you want. It's your breath."
"Take it easy, smart boy. I'm calling the.signals. You wanttoworkforme? It'!\two-fifty a week and expenses."
We agreed on the terms and I told him there were two things I wouldn't do and that was stealing or murder. Frankie agreed. He toldme that I'd havean apartmenton
South Fourth Street, where he Iiv�d, and to meethim the nextmorningat ajointnearthere.
I got there and there were three other guys with him. Oneofthem sp'oke to me. I told him to get lost.
"Buster, I'm not talking to creeps. I came to see Frankie."
Frankie motioned me to come over and sit down.
"Ready to work, Johnny?" he asked as he reached into hispocketforhiswallet.
"Sure, but I want three bills plus," I said, waiting for himtocutafifty.
Meyer never was a cheapskate. He threw five yards onthetable.
"Kid, you may not live long with your mouth. The first time you get out of line, you're through. We play for keeps. The extra deuce is for clothes. Get some newones."
For the next thFee months I was Frankie Meyer's personal bodyguard. I was in the big leagues. I always had plenty of cash in my pockets. Hell, Frankie picked up the tab every place we went. And if I had a broad he'd slip -me a hundred andlend me his carfor a date. I lived with the guy for three months almost night and day until I got promoted.
And our days and nights were plenty busy keeping the rackets under control. My day started about ten o'clock. Frankie didn't get up till twelve. Every morning I put on sweat clothes and ran two miles in Fairmount P;trk to keep in shape. Then I'd stop in Cambria's gym and go a few rounds with anyone handy. I was in good shape.
I'd get back to the apartment close to twelve and sit down with Frankie for breakfast. He ate light, and the maid nearly wore herself out serving me four or five eggs, sausages, dry cereal and hot cakes and a quart of milk. Frankie nibbledonjuice and toast, a little coffeeandthen ascotch:
After a quick shower we'd get dressed and Frankie 20
would stuff the envelopes with cash. There were usually about twenty-five of them. Pay-off money is always in small bills . and put in envelopes. Frankie also had about five or six grand in his pocket for emergency money. When the money was put away we'd go down to his light Cadillac convertible and put the envelopes in the glove compartment. This was our public relations money.
Ourfirst.stopwas always atthepolicestation downthe street. Ineverwentintothe stationhouse. ItwasFrankie's own job to take care of the captain. Anyway, station houses bore me. They're too dreary. I'd go across the street and get a glass of milk while the cops were being paid. I didn't have bull fever then. Just contempt.
From there we'd drive down to South Philly and make stops'to pay plainclothesmen, meet our boys in charge of districts and pickup men for the bookies. We'd get envelopes too, but nevercountedthem. If therewasa shortage we'd get to that later and take care of the shortchangers. Theyknewandweknewit.
Lunch was the worst part of the routine. Every lousy day we'd hit a delicatessen, because Frankie lovedJewish food. Itwasthe same one, and we got there at twoo'clock on the dot. He liked boiled food, because he thought now andthen that he had an ulcer. I always ordered what they didn't have and they sent out for it. We were top customers.
We would stay there for just about two hours, and the small overlords, aldermen and racket lieutenants would come in to pay court. Frankie would get reports, make suggestions and get news. I hated that joint with its lousy food, but Frankie was the boss. At four o'clock, when mostoftheraceswereoff,we'dleave.
Then we'd start on a good-will tour of all the main bars. This was public relations, and Frankie would buy drinks for the house in a lot of places. By the time this 21
tour was over it would be close to seven-thirty, and we'd getbacktotheapartmentandchangeclothes.
The nighttourof dutywasmuchbetter.Nocheapstuff. We got to the better places. Lew M----'s was the meeting place, but this was class. No cheap hoods and lousy food. We had glitter dolls and the money was fast. Of course, it was business too. The big boys met there, and the out-of-town big shots would always drop in. You don't miss seeing the right people when youlre a racket man from out of town. There's protocol in this business too.
Important policy matters would be discussed before the dolls joined us. Plans would be made to take care of certain cops that wanted to boost their take. Or politics wouldcomeup. I listened close, becauseI wantedtolearn andgetahead.
Frankie would sit and listen andthen make a quick decision.
"Okay," he'd say quickly. "So we got to get a new councilman. Send the word out and get somebody who'll playball. Doit."
And when you listen close you get to learn things that aren't spelled out. Soon I learned that forty per cent of thetakeinPhilly from therackets-andthat includedjust about everything from bookies and prostitutes to pinballs and narcotics-went to the national syndicate headquarters. That headquarters changed· from Chicago to New YorkorDetroit.
Plans were made there every night to meet every important problem. The right people knew who I was, and I had money and bank accounts. We'd stay there until eleven, andtherest ofthenight wasonthetownforpleasure. We'd cabaret it up with plenty of dolls. But I wasn't allowedtcnlrink.
Hell, I was Frankie's personal bodyguard and could only have two beers. I had to be ready in case a sucker
tried to take Frank. The broads thought it was funny I didn't drink. !'let them get loaded. It was easier. Frank was a big tipper and that meant an extra seventy-five bucks a week for me. It was simple. He'd always tip the waiter himself. No silver. Just bills. But he'd give me a ten spot toget thehats. I'dkeepnine and givethechick a single. I always wishedhe'dlet me take care ofthe waiter. Then back to the apartment and he'd count the money for the day. He never let me do it; but I got good eyes, and there was at least sixty to seventy grand a day. The smallest I ever saw was twenty-two thousand. A special messenger would take the dough toheadquarters. Frankie was the Number Two man in Philly. Mickey s�--was Number One. I hadn't met him yet. I did later. Thiswas great forthreemonths. Thepaywas goodand money was great! I got bonuses and began to ride high. My reputation was growing and Frankie liked me. l · thoughtIhadlifemadegood.
One morning after I came back from my usual exer- . cise and was ready to eat breakfast Frankie spoke to me ashesippedhisscotch.
"I want to talk to youseriously,John,"hesaidquietly. For a moment I was scare.ct, and thought maybe my probationary period hadn'tturned out good. I didn't want to leave this job because it was big league. My clothes were tailor-made. Hell, it was great. He laughed when he saw I was worried and I knew everything was okay. Frankie didn't laugh when he was sore.
"How'dyou like to make more money? Don't sayanything. Listen me out. You know I've got musclemen all over the city and state. They're all back-no brains. There's three and a half yards a week for you plus expenses. There's lots of prestige in being top muscleman. Wantit?"
I didn't waste any time in telling Frankie that I'd like · thejob. Hell, thiswaswhat Iwas waitingfor. A chanceto take charge myself and prove I had brains besides muscle. And this meant a chance to get a place of my own. A couple of days ago I'd met a honey blonde: blue eyes, about five-foot-seven.with a terrific physique--a beautiful kid. I was stuck on her-and to getahead of my story a minute--I married her three weeks later, and shenever askedquestions.
"Frankie," I said. "You're the boss. If you want me to take this job, I'm your boy. Anything you say is rightwith me."
Frankie reached over the table and shook hands. "Johnny, keep control of these guys. Be the boss and do the job. You'll be well taken care of. Keep in close touch."
I was feeling great when I left his apartment. I was starting to move. I was the boss man of a small army. There were two hundred and ten musclemen under me in Philly alone, and plenty more in places like Erie, Chester, AllentownandHarrisburg.
Frankie tookme personally to introduce metothehead men of the various districts. He'd tell them simply who I was and that they were to take orders from me. Then I'dtalktothemquickandfast.
"I guess we'll get along. Just don't think for yourself or you'll get your face caved·in and be out of a job."
This was the same routine throughout the city and other places in the state. It didn't take long and I began to run things. Frankie gave me one piece of advice.
"John D., don't hire any hopheads. They break when the cops sweatthem. Leave them alone."
Isetupapersonalstaffofeighttoughmusclemen. They were all over six-feet-four and two hundredpounds.They were as good asthey come. Milty the Ox could pickup a car like nothing when a tire had to be changed. Junie was a rough slugger who hated to be called Junior. He was young, and only old friends dared call him Junie.·I'd sendthem over to take my personal messages when a job needed to be done. Sometimes I'd go, but only when it wasimportant.
My wife didn't know what I did for a living. When our babyJanet wasborn, Frankiesenther acheckfor agrand andgavemetenboxesof $2.50-eachcigarstopassaround and silverware for twelve people. He was great that way. IstilldroppedintoLewM 's, butnotas often. About once every few weeks. I had a lot to do myself. My musclemanhad to make sure that allthe collections were coming in regularly: No one was allowed to be short unless they asked permission. Then they'd-have to make it up in a hurry. I never went personally. on the littleones, but whenanimportant mattercameup, I went. And we meant business. One time the word came to me that Billy Bergen, nephew of.Babe Bergen,·was short four hundred. Bergen had good connections and I wanted thisto be handled intheproper way. I calledintwoofmy personal squad and gave them the pitch.
We went to the Dorchester:House onThirteenth Street, and took the elevator to his floor. I had two skeleton keys, so getting in was a cinch. Billy was loaded and in bed with a red-headed broad. He didn't know what was going on. He got scared when he saw me. I told my guys togethimoutofbed.
"Tell that broadto keepher trapshut,"I toldtheother guy, and I walked into the can. I don't like to see dames get hit, and she was hit good. No more noise from her. I
came back in the bedroom. The two guys were holding Billy. He looked sick, and he was almost cold sober. "Johnny," he cried, "don't let them do it. I just made a mistake. I got eight hundredin my pockets. Don't work me."
There was shock in his eyes and he screamed he had connections.
"Insidewithhim," Iordered.
The boys took Billy into the can and held himoverthe tub. I took out a pair of leather gloves that had been soaked in water to make them cut when dried out. He passed out after a while, and I stuck his headin the commode and flushed it to wake him up.
Heneverwasshortagain.
Keeping my own boys in line was important because once respect was gone I knew I'd have to get another job and get out of town. You make a lot of enemies in this racket and t!Jey remember. And I didn'twant to lose that grand a week coming in. Oh, the salarywas still the same, but I was getting plenty of bonuses.
One of myreally toughapes, Lennie Gross, gothimself. some ideas on how to make more dough. He started a shakedown in his neighborhood. This was the kind of stuff that gave our outfit a bad name. Hewas shaking the samepeopleweweretaking.
· Reports started coming in to mefromthe bookies, asking what the story was. The picture came clear pretty quick to me. Lenniewasgettingextra tarifffromthe merchants and putting it into his own pocket. That was no good.
I went to Frankie and laid it on the line. i "How important is this guy Lennie?" I asked, because I didn'twanttotakethewrongguy.
"How important is Lennie?" Frankie repeated. "I'll tell you. No one is important who steals from us. Stop him."
ThatwasallIwantedtoknow.I tooktwobig guyswith me. I was going to handle this deal personally. We drove to his home and a broad he was living with said he was out. She told us he was at a restaurant called Harry's. We knew she might telephone him, but we didn't care. It would only delay matters a short time.
I sent a guy ahead and he cameout with Lennie. I told Lennie that we had an important job to do and to get in the back seat with me and the other guy. The guy he sat next to was an ex-pro wrestler ;md knew the holds thathurt.
It didn't take us long to get out close to theLanghorne race track. About a half-mile from the track we pulled off into a side road. I could see Lennie knew something was wrong and he tried to get out.
The wrestler put the mugger's hold on him and his arm under his windpipe nearly choked him. We pulled him out of the car and the driver came and held him. I put on the leather gloves and went to work. As a result he was so badly h_urt we had to take him to one of our quacks on the payroll. Not a hospital, because there he· might talk and feel safe. Finally, we tookhim back to his broad, and for ninemonths he didn't work. Thenhecame back and was demoted to a runner for bookies. His pay dropped from two bills a week to fifty bucks. But he didn'tsquealto any cop.Hewasgladtogetback,andlive.
Once in a while some young punkswould try and take over a racketinthe city, butthey wereeasy marks. A few of my boys would walk in and mop them up, and that wouldendtheirtry.
I met a lot of tough guys during my eight years as a muscleman in Philly, and I found out that you can't always �pottherealhardguys.
One nightin M----'sI was sittingatthebar talking about a fight that was going to be held in a few days. I forget who was fighting and it doesn;t matter very
much. I was telling someone thatI hadthe winnerandhe was going to knock the other boy's brains out.
Aguysittingnextto mehalfturnedaroundandquietly said, "Your kid hasn't got a chance. He'll be killed. You'restupid."
It doesn't take much to get me sore, and that burned me.
I stoodupandtappedhim gently ontheshoulder.
"Don'tcallmestupid. I'llknockyourbrainsout."
"Start knocking, Junior punk."
I was just about to let him have it when Frankie came hurrying over and broke it up. He got between us and stoppedtheaction.
"Johnny D., take it easy," he said. "You should treat visitors ni�e. I'd like you to shake hands with Joe Adonis."
We shook hands but I was still burning and I told Joe A. to cut out his eracks. It was the first time that I had ever seen Adonis. That was quite a few years ago, and he still is a pretty big-ranking racket guy. Almost at the top.
Frankie took me aside and gaverne a pep talk.
"Listen, Johnny," he said. "You fool around with Joe A. and you either get killed or a gang W1U' starts. I don't want either to happen."
Frankie told me to go back to the bar and be nice to Adonisbecausehewasjusthereonasocialvisit. --
"We're all in the same league," he explained. "And Luckywouldn'tlikeaguylikeJoeA. tobetreatedbadly."
I went back to the bar and Joe A. was friendly. He didn't know me when our argument started, and I guess he felt that I didn'tknowhim and neither of our reps had beenhurt.
"All right, kid, let's forget the thing. No use hurting ourselves," he said, and told the bartender to buy me a drink.
