Love thy crooked neighbor as you love thy
crooked self."
-- Murray Humphreys
While no one ever deserted Momo without accepting the bloody consequences, even he
could not prevent Death from stalking the lives of wife Ange nor father Antonio. Both died
in 1954, only a couple months apart and both after long illnesses. Politicos, businessmen
and mob leaders from across the country turned out for both services, noting Momo
particularly solemn and well-behaved at both.
But, by 1955 the world he knew best, the Underworld, was occupying his every hour. Tony
Accardo was being investigated by the FBI and, to steer them away from current gang
activities, he stepped down to appoint Momo il capo di Chicago. The moniker was
misleading, however, for Momos territory extended far beyond mere city limits. But,
in one way, it brought leisure: he no longer had to travel to see anyone on business;
everyone came to him.
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Robert, John & Joseph Kennedy (UPI/Corbis- Bettmann) |
This included Joseph Kennedy, the wealthy financier and Wall Street
jackal. Kennedy had been a partner of Diamond Joe Esposito during the days of Prohibition;
together the two men had made a fortune smuggling sugar and mash into the East Coast and
trans-continentally. Momo was never partial to the toothsome fellow, disliking the smiling
hypocritical facade of the Irish Catholic businessman hiding a thieving pirate. "If
there ever was a crook it was Joe Kennedy," he told his brother and confidante,
Chuck. "Old man Kennedy made over a million bucks selling the market short before it
fell. He manipulated the whole damn Depression."
Kennedys son Jack was the shining star senator from Massachusetts who, many
said, was eyeing the White House and who, because of his daddys bucks and influence
would inevitably reach his goal. In the early 50s, Momo had pulled strings for the old man
to have his sons career-threatening-marriage to a lower-class girl annulled and all
legal documents eradicated.
Joe Kennedy now had come to Chicago for another favor to ask, and when he strolled into
the East Ambassador Hotel that evening in mid-1955, under cover of disguise, he bore a
desperate frown. He needed to get out of a scrape. Frank Costello, the New York boss, had
put a contract on his life for refusing to perform a number of owed favors for the
Syndicate. Kennedy explained to Momo that he had meant no insult, but that he was just
maintaining a distance from Costello should the Kennedy name be re-linked to the rackets
and ruin his sons career. "You know how it is," he told Momo, shrugging
apologetically.
Giancana made him squirm a little until, panicky, Kennedy blurted out what Momo wanted
to hear. "If my son is elected President hell be your man. My son, the
President of the United States, will owe you his fathers life. He wont refuse
you, ever. You have my word."
Within the week, Momo talked to Costello. With the promise that they would have their
own man in the White House, the mob called off the hit on Joe Kennedy.
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