Dutch Schultz: Beer Baron of the Bronx

Early Years

Early Years

Arthur Simon Flegenheimer was born on August 6, 1902 in the Bronx. His parents were both German Jews. His mother, Emma had tried to raise little Arthur in the orthodox faith. Her efforts were not entirely in vain, in later years Schultz would develop respect for his religious upbringing. At different stages of his life he claimed to be Jewish, Protestant and Catholic. It was not uncommon for him to turn to religion at times of crisis during his career.

Dr. John F. Condon
Dr. John F. Condon

Growing up in the tough Bergen and Webster Avenues section of the Bronx, Flegenheimer joined a street gang for protection and to be part of a cohesive group in which he could make a name for himself. He attended Public School 12, where the principal, Dr. J. F. Condon, would one day gain notoriety by delivering the Lindbergh baby ransom money to Bruno Richard Hauptmann.

When Flegenheimer was fourteen, his father left home. What effect this had on the young man is hard to determine. Shortly after this desertion though, Flegenheimer quit school. Schultz never admitted that his father abandoned the family. He preferred to tell people that his father was a fine person and died during Schultzs teenage years. Working a variety of odd jobs, Flegenheimer soon realized that an honest days work was not going to make him happy…or rich. He began hanging out at the Criterion Club where Marcel Poffo, a local hoodlum whose police record included bank robberies and extortion, befriended him. Hoping to impress his mentor, Flegenheimer began his criminal career by holding up crap games that refused to pay a percentage to Poffo.

At the age of seventeen, Flegenheimer received his first and only prison sentence. Arrested for burglarizing a Bronx apartment, Flegenheimer used the name Charles Harmon (an alias he would continue to use). He was sent to Blackwells Island, a brutal prison located in the middle of the East River. It later became Welfare Island and today is known as Roosevelt Island. Flegenheimer was not an ideal prisoner, and the experience certainly did nothing to rehabilitate him. In fact he was so unruly that he was transferred to a tougher prison, Westhampton Farms, from where he escaped for a few hours. He was returned and an additional two months were added to his sentence. Upon his return to the Bronx, his old Bergen Gang buddies anointed him Dutch Schultz, much to the chagrin of his loving mother.

By the mid-1920s, Schultz realized that bootlegging was the way to make serious money. He got involved in the beer trade working as a strong-arm goon for some of the bigger operators. He once drove a beer truck for the legendary Arnold Rothstein, and at one time he and Charles Lucky Luciano were members of the Jack Legs Diamond gang.

Dutch Schultz early in his career
Dutch Schultz early in his
career

In early 1928, Schultz was bartending in a speakeasy owned by childhood friend Joey Noe (pronounced Noy or Noey, depending on whose book you read). While working here Schultz gained a reputation for brutality when someone triggered his temper. It was perhaps this ruthlessness that made Noe admire him and take him on as a partner. The two men were soon on their way to building a beer empire in the Bronx and beyond.

With the profits from their speakeasy they opened more operations. They began to purchase their own trucks to avoid the delivery cost of wholesale beer. The beer for their operations was obtained from Frankie Dunn, a Union City, New Jersey brewery owner. Schultz would ride shotgun to protect his trucks from being hijacked.

The two partners realized they could increase their profits by supplying beer to their rivals. If speakeasy owners turned down overtures to purchase beer from the Schultz/Noe combine, they were soon warned to buy it, or else. Joe and John Rock were brothers who decided to play hardball with Schultz. John quickly stepped aside, but his stubborn Irish brother refused to give in. One night Joe Rock was kidnapped by members of the Schultz / Noe gang, and brutalized. Rock was beaten and hung by his thumbs on a meat hook. The gang allegedly wrapped a gauze bandage over his eyes that had been smeared with the discharge from a gonorrhea infection. His family reportedly paid $35,000 for his release. Shortly after Joe Rock went blind.

These tactics instilled fear among Schultzs competitors and heightened his reputation for utter ruthlessness. It also made it easy for the partners to muscle in on the beer trade in the Bronx. As the operation grew, new beer suppliers were needed to fill the orders the gang was receiving. In addition, they began to attract a group of enforcers who would soon make a name for themselves. Among this group of toughs were Abe Bo Weinberg and his brother George, Vincent Coll and his brother Peter, Larry Carney, Fatty Walsh, Joey Rao, and Edward Fats McCarthy.

The operation, which began modestly in the Bronx, was now expanding over to Manhattans upper West Side into the neighborhoods of Washington Heights, Yorkville, and Harlem. Schultz and Noe moved their headquarters out of the Bronx and onto East 149th Street in Manhattan. However, the gangs move to Manhattan brought them into direct competition with Jack Legs Diamond.

Jack 'Legs' Diamond (POLICE)
Jack ‘Legs’ Diamond

The response from the Diamond gang came quickly. At seven oclock on the morning of October 15, 1928, Diamonds men ambushed Joey Noe outside the Chateau Madrid nightclub on West 54th Street near Sixth Avenue, while Schultz was rumored to be meeting with rumrunner William V. Big Bill Dwyer. Although Noe was wearing a bulletproof vest, slugs ripped through his chest and lower spine. Noe apparently got off a number of shots in return. Witnesses reported seeing a blue Cadillac bounce off a parked car, losing one of its doors before speeding away. When police found the car an hour later, they discovered the body of Diamond gunman Louis Weinberg (no relation to Bo and George) dead in the back seat.

Noe was rushed to Roosevelt Hospital. Despite a valiant effort by the hospitals staff, Noe slowly faded away. By the time he died, three weeks later on November 21, he weighed a mere ninety pounds. In Paul Sanns excellent biography, To Kill the Dutchman, he discusses Schultzs feelings about Noes death:

There is no question that Schultz was crushed. Noe was the closest intimate of all his days. He might have drawn some inspiration from a hoodlum like Marcel Poffo, but Noe, who always called him Arthur, as when they were kids on the street corner without a care in the world, put him on the golden highway. When Noe was with him, he could give the armed guard a night off, and Noe for that matter, was the only one he ever took along when he went to see his mother.

In the wake of the shooting of Joey Noe, Schultz was bent for revenge. On November 4, 1928, the financier of the New York underworld, Arnold Rothstein, was shot in the Park Central Hotel and died two days later. While the most common theory for the murder was that Rothstein had welshed on a gambling debt to George McManus, it was rumored that Schultz may have been involved because of Rothsteins friendship with Diamond. Perhaps supporting this theory was the fact that the first person McManus called after the shooting was Schultz attorney, Richard J. Dixie Davis. After the phone call, Schultz associate, Bo Weinberg picked up McManus and spirited him away. McManus was later cleared of the killing.

Bo Weinberg
Bo Weinberg

Another theory involved Diamond because he felt Rothstein had double-crossed him in a recent narcotics deal. Whatever the case, when Diamond, the so called clay pigeon of the underworld due to the number of times he was shot, met his demise on December 18, 1931, Bo Weinbergs name was connected to the murder.

Schultz was then on his own. He would never again have a partner and he moved freely in the New York underworld as an independent operator. By the late 1920s his influence became so great that he was invited to meetings called by Lucky Luciano and his associates as they began to build a national organized crime structure.

At one of Lucianos meetings the importance of police and political payoffs was being discussed. A vote was taken and everyone agreed with Luciano that more money should be expended for protection, except Joe Adonis. Schultz, suffering from the flu, sat alone in a corner of the room so not to spread his germs. Adonis stood looking at himself in the mirror and combing his hair. He then wheeled around and, referring to himself, said, The star says yes. With that, Schultz darted across the room, grabbed Adonis in a headlock and breathed heavily into his face.

Now, you fuckin star, you have my goims, roared Schultz.

The others howled with laughter. However, Adonis did get the flu and was grounded for a week.

In May 1929, Schultz participated in the Atlantic City Conference. The meeting was attended by dozens of mobsters of various ethnic and religious backgrounds from around the country. The main topic of the conference was cooperation between the gangs and the cities they represented, and to discuss plans for the day Prohibition was repealed.

Due to his working relationship with Luciano, when the Castellammarese War began in February 1930, Schultz was aligned with the forces of Giuseppe Joe the Boss Masseria. Opposed to the Masseria faction was Salvatore Maranzano who was actively seeking to become the capo-di-tutti-capi, boss of all bosses. The war raged on for fourteen months until Luciano setup Masseria to be murdered in a Coney Island restaurant. Not satisfied with the spoils of war, Maranzano put together a hit list of people he wanted out of the way. On the list were Luciano, Adonis, Frank Costello, Vito Genovese, and Schultz himself. Hired to carry out these murders was Vincent the Mad Mick Coll, who at the time was in the middle of a gang war with Schultz.

When Luciano was informed of the hit list from traitors inside the Maranzano organization, an assassination team was put together to murder the treacherous newly crowned boss of bosses. The hit squad dressed as police officers, murdered Maranzano in his Park Avenue office on September 10, 1931. Rushing out of the building, one of Maranzanos employees ran into Coll and warned him to leave. The Mad Mick was on his way to a meeting with Maranzano. Reported to be part of the hit squad was Schultzs man Bo Weinberg.

 


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The Schultz-Coll War

1931 quickly became a year Schultz would want to forget. On January 24, Schultz got into a fight at Club Abbey with Charles Chink Sherman, an associate of rival bootlegger, Waxey Gordon. During the donnybrook, Sherman was beaten with a chair and stabbed seven times with the shards from a broken peanut bowl. Schultz was identified as the man wielding the chair, while his sidekick, Marty Krompier, performed the stabbing. The Dutchman did not walk away from the fray unscathed. Schultz took a bullet in the shoulder, but quickly recovered. It was later revealed that the fight broke out over a joke about a girl one of them was seeing.

Shortly after this fracas, Schultz gunman Vincent Coll decided he wanted a more important role in the gang and told the Dutchman he wanted to be taken on as a full partner. Schultz rebuffed him and Coll split from the gang and branched out on his own, taking some of Dutchs underlings with him. It was reported that Schultz was only too glad to see him go.

Vincent Coll
Vincent Coll

Described as tall, handsome, and egotistical, Coll had very little business savvy, but made up for it with an almost impulsive fearlessness. Colls first move was a plot to kidnap a local radio and nightclub personality. He was then going to use the ransom money to finance his new gang. However, the kidnapping plot was revealed to the police and eight members of Colls gang were arrested. The police confiscated the Mad Micks arsenal, as well as several cars.

Prior to their split, Schultz had provided $10,000 to bail Coll out of prison on a Sullivan Law violation (carrying a concealed weapon). When the trial date arrived in the spring of 1931, Coll was a no-show forcing Schultz to forfeit the ten grand. Schultz responded by having Colls older brother Peter murdered on a Harlem street corner on May 30. Incensed by the killing of his sibling, Coll went on a rampage of hijacking the Dutchmans beer trucks and declaring open season on Schultz gang members. Within weeks four of the Dutchmans associates were killed at the hands of Coll and his men.

Owney Madden
Owney Madden

On July 15, desperate for money, Coll and his cronies drove to Club Argonaut on Seventh Avenue and kidnapped George Jean Big Frenchy DeMange, an intimate of Owney Killer Madden, owner of Harlems Cotton Club. Madden paid $35,000 for the safe release of his friend and then patiently plotted his revenge.

On July 28, 1931, in the middle of a heat wave that had already taken 80 lives in the northeast, New York City witnessed one of its most notorious gang war killings. Instead of lawless gunmen falling to the wayside, five innocent children were senselessly shot down in a botched murder attempt on Schultz associate Joey Rao. On this steamy hot evening as children played on the sidewalk along East 107th Street and adults leaned out of open windows in the hope of catching a slight breeze, an open touring car containing five men slowly made its way down the block. As it passed the Helmar Social Club, the men spotted Joey Rao lounging out front. With one gunman blasting away with a shotgun and another a .45 automatic pistol, gang warfare reached an all-time low. Five year old Michael Vengali was hit and died the following day. His seven-year-old brother was wounded five times, and a three-year-old, sleeping in a stroller, was hit twice in the back. Two other children, five and fourteen years old, received slight wounds.

Despite the angry public outcry, police were hard pressed to find anyone in the neighborhood who would talk to them. Rao had spotted his assailants and ducked for cover. When the shooting stopped he stood up and calmly walked away. Five days later an eyewitness to the shooting, George Brecht, came forward claiming he had been standing across the street as the touring car drove by. Brecht identified Coll and Frank Giordano, a former Schultz gunman, as the two shooters.

When Colls name was released to the newspapers as the main suspect in the shootings the press dubbed him, the Baby Killer. As a nationwide manhunt was on for him, Coll dyed his blond hair black and grew a mustache. On October 4, he was arrested at the Cornish Arms Hotel on Twenty-third Street, near Eighth Avenue. In late December 1931, Coll and Giordano were tried for the murder of Michael Vengali. Coll was ably defended by Samuel S. Leibowitz, one of the citys high profile defense attorneys.

Leibowitz tore apart prosecution witness George Brecht during cross-examination. He told the jury that Brecht had fabricated the story in the hope of collecting the $30,000 reward being offered for the killers. Leibowitz claimed that Brecht had acted in a similar capacity in another case where his testimony could not be substantiated. By the end of the trial the jury found Brecht to be absolutely unreliable. He was committed to the psychopathic ward at Bellevue for observation. Coll and Giordano were acquitted.

Giordano would not be as fortunate the next time he faced a jury. On October 2, two days before Colls arrest, Giordano and Dominic Odierno murdered Joseph Mullen, a Schultz employee, in front of a Bronx beer drop-off. This time, reliable eyewitnesses identified the two killers. A rarity in gangland history, the two men were tried, convicted, and executed for the murder.

Coll celebrated his acquittal and release from jail by marrying his girlfriend, Lottie Kriesberger. But their celbrations were ended early when they were arrested on a conspiracy charge and spent a part of their honeymoon at police headquarters.

On February 1, 1932 another sensational killing in the war made the headlines. Again, another innocent victim was shot down. This time it was Schultzs gunmen pulling the triggers. The gang received word that Coll would be attending a card party at a small home on Commonwealth Avenue in the North Bronx. Four gunmen entered and began blasting. Killed were Coll triggermen Patsy Del Greco and Fiorio Basile, and Emily Torrizello, who was playing cards. Wounded were Basiles brother Louis and another woman. Miraculously, four children, two of whom were in cribs, avoided injury. Thirty minutes after the shooting, the Mad Mick arrived.

Colls reprieve from gunfire lasted a scant eight days. On February 9, Coll entered the London Chemist, a drug store, with his bodyguard at Twenty-third Street near Eighth Avenue. He stepped into a phone booth where it was alleged he called Owney Madden. Things had been tough for the baby-faced Irishman since his acquittal a month and a half earlier. Down to his last $200, he was living in a hotel room with his new bride and was said by one reporter to have been reduced to the lowly job of guard for a craps game.

The rumor regarding the telephone conversation was that Madden kept Coll on the line long enough for a trio of killers to arrive. When the car pulled up, three men got out. While two stood watch outside, the third walked into the drug store with a Thompson sub-machinegun telling several customers to Keep cool now. Colls bodyguard, who was believed to have helped set him up, got off his seat at the soda fountain and walked out past the two lookouts on the street, one of which was the seemingly omnipresent Bo Weinberg.

Depending on which account of the murder you read the machine gunner fired anywhere from ten to fifty rounds at Coll. The coroners report stated fifteen bullets had hit the Mad Mick, mostly in vital places. Whatever the number, Coll was dead before he hit the floor.

The gunman ran out and jumped into the automobile, where Weinberg was already at the wheel, and took off. The ordeal for the killers was not over yet. Two police detectives, ironically, assigned to tail Coll, came running at the sound of gunfire. One jumped on the running board of a taxicab and ordered the driver to pursue the speeding getaway car. With the detective firing from the running board, the taxi driver chased the gunmen twenty-seven blocks down Eighth Avenue at speeds of up to sixty-five miles per hour before the get-away car pulled away.

Back at the drug store a crowd gathered to see the fallen Baby Killer. Soon Colls wife, possibly alerted to the shooting by the turncoat bodyguard, came on the run from her hotel room across the street, screaming as she forced her way through the swelling crowd of onlookers. Later at police headquarters she played the gangster moll/wife role to a tee, refusing to answer questions, and when she did giving half-truths.

Lottie Kriesberger Coll would later serve time for violation of the Sullivan Law. She would also get slapped with a twelve year sentence in a womans reformatory after two companions killed a young lady during an armed robbery in the Bronx.

Less than one hundred people attended Colls wake at the Walter B. Cooke Funeral Home in the Bronx. Only family members were present at his burial at St. Raymonds Cemetery. In retrospect, a quote Coll made to reporters after Legs Diamonds murder may have come back to haunt him. The Mad Mick stated, I feel sorry for anyone who is bumped off, especially when a guy is lucky enough to beat a trial and so soon after acquittal. Diamond had been celebrating his acquittal the night he was murdered. The twenty-three year old Coll at least had the luxury of enjoying his acquittal for six weeks.

The war had been a costly one for Schultz. He lost gunmen, had numerous beer shipments hijacked, and several of his speakeasies had been shot up. His greatest loss was Danny Iamascia, a friend and bodyguard. Schultz had moved into a Fifth Avenue apartment that overlooked Central Park. An anonymous caller, a woman, notified police that a resident on the ninth floor of the building, Russell Jones, was none other than Dutch Schultz.

On June 18, 1931, New York City Detectives Stephen DiRosa and Julius Salke staked out the apartment from a park bench across the street. The detectives caught the attention of Schultz as they stared at one another through binoculars. Around 6:00 a.m. four men, including Schultz and Iamascia, left the apartment and walked over to find out what the two men, in plainclothes, were up to. As the four gang members approached the bench, one of them barked, Who are you guys and whaddya doin here?

DeRosa replied, We are the law, put up your hands.

With that DiRosa drew his revolver. Iamascia, either thought the pair were Colls gunmen, or perhaps he wasnt thinking at all, but he responded by pulling his own gun. DeRosa opened fire hitting Iamascia in the abdomen and left wrist. Schultz took off running toward 101st Street with Detective Salke in pursuit. The other two men hopped over a stone wall and disappeared into Central Park. Schultz quickly discarded his own revolver and, after Salke sent a bullet past the Dutchmans ear, came to a stop and put his hands up.

According to Salke, Schultz told him, Listen, Ive got a large sum of money. Take it and let me run. Im having a lot of trouble. Im on the edge. Im being followed by mobsters. They want to give me the works. I dont fight cops. Salke, an honest, dedicated police officer, arrested Schultz. The four men rode to Mount Sinai Hospital in a taxicab, Iamascia lying on the floor bleeding profusely. On the way Schultz offered the officers $50,000 apiece and each a house in Westchester, New York.

Iamascia was dropped off at the hospital and Schultz was taken to the 104th Street station house where he was booked for felonious assault and carrying a concealed weapon. He asked if he could have a sedative to calm his frayed nerves.

The following day Danny Iamascia died from his wounds. Unlike Colls funeral, which was still some eight months away, Iamascias was a gangland extravaganza. Both Schultz and Ciro Terranova, Iamascias former employer, tried to out do one another for the gaudiest floral tribute. The funeral service, held at Our Lady of Carmel Church, drew thousands. The funeral procession to St. Raymonds Cemetery consisted of 125 cars, of which 35 carried flowers.

Schultzs trial for the felonious assault charge ended with the jury deciding there was not enough evidence to show he had pulled his gun on the detectives. As far as possession of the gun itself, Schultz had a permit from a Suffolk County judge to carry it. Over the years Schultz had gone to great lengths to be able to carry a concealed weapon, including being made a deputy sheriff in the Bronx.

With the Schultz -Coll War over the Dutchman had more pressing matters to attend to in Harlem.

 

There seems to be several versions of Schultzs involvement in the Harlem policy rackets, or numbers as it was often called. Much of the information came from his attorney, and partner in the operations, Richard J. Dixie Davis. In his book, Twenty Against the Underworld, Dewey provides this description of Davis:

Dixie Davis was an improbable figure to be a top commander of a New York racket. He…worked his way through Syracuse Law School and was admitted to the Bar in 1927. This made him the professional contemporary of many of the men on our staff. Davis was given a clerkship in an honored law firm, but he soon went into business for himself.

Dutch and his attorney 'Dixie' Davis (right)
Dutch and his attorney
‘Dixie’ Davis (right)

Soon he became known around the mob as the Boy Mouthpiece. His work pleased his ignorant clients. In court he talked loudly and waved his arms, putting on a good show. He shouted in the courtroom, but in the back rooms he whispered. And his clients seemed to go free with increasing regularity. The usual fee for a lawyer in numbers cases in those days was $25. Dixie Davis cut the fee to $15 and did a wholesale business.

Stephanie St. Clair
Stephanie St. Clair

A Harlem newspaper reported in the early 1920s that thirty policy banks were operating in Harlem. Each operation employed twenty to thirty runners. These were the people who collected the daily bets and made the payoffs. Although there were several big-time operators such as Marcellina Cardena, Joseph Mathias Ison, and Stephanie St. Clair, a Black woman known as the Policy Queen of Harlem, they were not organized into a syndicate and were basically operating as independent bankers.

Policy in 1920s Harlem was seen as a harmless vice. Many reputable citizens both played policy and operated numbers banks. Rufus Schatzberg, a former New York City detective-turned-writer states, the policy operators employed reputable people to work in their banks. They reasoned that reputable people would take precautions against being arrested. If the workers were discreet and protective of their jobs, it follows that they would, in return, protect the policy operation. Teachers and unemployed wives of prominent community leaders, people who would feel a lasting shame to be arrested, worked in policy banks.

The policy game, which collected as little as a penny per bet, looked like small beans during the Prohibition years when money flowed as easily as the illegal liquor that created it. However, with the Noble Experiment in its death throes in the early 1930s, mobsters were looking at other sources of income and the Harlem numbers / policy rackets drew the attention of the Dutch Schultz gang.

As Schultz made his move on the policy operators he realized that more than just muscle alone was needed to achieve his goal. It was the political clout from James J. Jimmy Hines, the Tammany Hall West Side leader, and the Dutchmans protection payoffs to the police that would make this takeover successful. The other factor was the Black policy operators were not career criminals and violence had not been a part of their trade.

As told by Dewey, Schultzs lawyer, Dixie Davis, represented many of Harlems Black policy operators and had a strong influence over them. It was this influence, combined with Hines political protection, and the Dutchmans guns and muscle, that made Schultzs newly organized policy combination a money making force to be reckoned with.

The Schultz gang began their takeover by inviting Alexander Pompez, one of Harlems more successful policy bankers, to a meeting at the Oswasco Democratic Club, a Tammany Hall affiliate, on West 118th Street. George Weinberg and Solly Girsch told Pompez that he would need to pay them $600 a week for protection. Girsch then brought in Joseph Matthias Spasm Ison and told him the same thing. Ison immediately sought out his lawyer, Dixie Davis, who advised him that the Schultz forces were too powerful to buck.

Acting as an advisor to Ison, the two men met with George Weinberg and his brother Bo, and worked out an agreement whereby Ison would pay them $500 a week for protection. As part of the protection, Ison wanted Jose Enrique Henry Miro to stop infringing on his territory. The gang responded quickly. Davis summoned Miro to a meeting with the Dutchman. The policy banker was so shaken when he received the request that he went to the meeting still wearing his pajamas. Schultz laid a .45 automatic on the table and told Miro that he was to begin paying $500 a week for protection and was to stay out of Isons territory. Miro assured Schultz that the protection he was being offered was just what he needed.

Between Pompez, Ison and Miro, Schultz had the three largest policy operators under his control. His next target was Stephanie St. Clair. Madame Queen proved to be a tougher prospect. She balked at Schultzs overtures and went to the Harlem newspapers and took out an ad to reveal how the Dutchmans politically backed combination was trying to steal her business. She then went to the mayor and district attorney and demanded that the gunmen who were harassing her be prosecuted. The fact that she was a woman meant nothing to Schultz. After her failed attempt to get other Black policy operators to form a coalition against Schultz, the Dutchman simply forced her out of business. A few years later, when Schultz lay dying in a Newark hospital, a telegram arrived from St. Clair stating, As ye sow, so shall you reap.

The profits from Schultzs policy operation were tremendous. The odds of winning were 999 to 1, but the house only paid off at 600 to 1. It was estimated that the average daily take was $35,000 of which only 25 percent was being disbursed to the winners. Of course out of this balance came the payoff to the police and politicians for protection, but that still left Schultz with an impressive profit margin.

The Dutchman improved his earnings when he brought Otto Berman into the fold. Known as Abbadabba because he possessed a gifted mathematical mind, Berman approached Schultz in 1932 with a $10,000 proposition. The winning policy numbers were derived from horse race tracks from the betting results on the pari-mutuel boards. Berman told Schultz that he could manipulate the betting so that heavily played numbers would never win. At first Schultz turned him down because he wanted to keep the game honest. However, the following year when Schultz was embroiled in expensive tax matters, he hired Berman.

Berman would go to the designated track where the winning policy numbers would be established, usually Cincinnati (where Schultz had hidden ownership in River Downs Race Track), New Orleans, or in Florida. After the races were concluded that produced the first two numbers, he would call George Weinberg in New York who would tell him which numbers would cost them the most money for that day. Berman would then go to the pari-mutuel windows and place a bet that would influence the third digit in the gangs favor. Once when asked about the success of Bermans efforts, George Weinberg replied, pretty near everyday was a winning day. Estimates of Schultzs income from the policy rackets were from $12 to $14 million annually.

 

While Schultz was making a fortune in the policy rackets, he conceived another moneymaking venture involving union racketeering in the restaurant industry.

Jules Martin
Jules Martin

In 1932, a Schultz lieutenant, Julius Modgilewsky, called Modgilewsky the Commissar, but better known as Jules Martin, opened a small greasy spoon diner as a front for gaining access to Local 16 of the Hotel & Restaurant Employees International Alliance. Local 16 handled the waiters in Manhattan north of Fourteenth Street. With the backing of Schultz, Martins employees ran for union offices, stuffing the ballot boxes in order to obtain the positions of president and secretary-treasurer. Their efforts were so effective that they received thirty-eight more votes than the entire membership of the union.

The next move was to take over Local 302. This time instead of supplying his own candidates, Martin and another Schultz associate, Sam Krantz, simply advised the unions leadership to join them, or else. The final step was to establish the Metropolitan Restaurant & Cafeteria Owners Association to sign restaurant and cafeteria owners and collect tribute from them. Martin handled this task himself, muscling the owners into signing certificates of membership stating that they were doing so of their own free will. Jack Dempsey, the former boxing champion and owner of the well known Dempseys restaurant, then located across the street from Madison Square Garden, was even photographed signing the agreement. Martin was so successful that he was able to move into the background of the association and let Krantz and another Schultz gang member, Louis Beitcher, run the operation.

No one realized that it was Schultz who was behind the scenes working through Martin to build the illegal enterprise. Restaurant owners were told that the waiters union was demanding a doubling of the wages, but this could be avoided if they joined and paid tribute to the association. One small cafeteria operator said he was forced to pay a $250 initiation fee and $30 annually in dues. In addition, he was told to pay $1,500 for association fees in order to avoid a threatened strike. Larger establishments were required to shell out initiation fees from $5,000 to $25,000 in addition to substantial annual dues.

One owner who refused to pay tribute to the association was Hyman Gross. Having already invested $100,000 in his new restaurant, Gross refused to give in to the Schultz mobsters. One night a stink bomb was dropped down the restaurants chimney and Gross was forced out of business losing his entire investment. The stink bombs the gangsters used were made of valerian or butyric acid. Once detonated, they created an offensive odor that permeated carpets, draperies, wood, even concrete and plumbing. The acid would ruin all the tables and fixtures causing replacement furniture to be purchased, and leaving the restaurant closed for months, if not permanently.

One of the key men in the association was Paul Coulcher, who had ballot-box-stuffed his way to secretary-treasurer of Local 16. He later became a recognized name in the labor movement.

In March 1935, while absorbed in a government tax case and forced to remain in the Albany area, Schultz called Martin and ordered him to bring $21,000 from the coffers of the association to him at once. Bo Weinberg and Dixie Davis accompanied Martin on the train ride. The men met Schultz at the Harmony Hotel in Cohoes, New York. Schultz grilled Martin about $70,000 that was missing from the restaurant associations bank accounts. Schultz suspected Martin of investing the money in a factory he owned in Elkhart, Indiana, which rebuilt taxicabs. With both men drinking heavily, Schultz emphasized his point by slugging Martin in the eye, after which the Commissar admitted to having removed only $20,000 from the accounts.

Davis was not accustomed to this part of the underworld witnessing the physical violence. He could hardly have anticipated what happened next, which Davis revealed years later:

Dutch Schultz was ugly; he had been drinking and suddenly he had his gun out. The Dutchman wore his pistol under his vest, tucked inside his pants, right against his belly. One jerk at his vest and he had it in his hand. All in the same quick motion he swung it up, stuck it in Jules Martins mouth and pulled the trigger.

 It was as simple and undramatic as that just one quick motion of the hand. The Dutchman did that murder just as casually as if he were picking his teeth.

Schultz apologized to Davis for his having to witness the brutal murder. Davis was further shocked when he read that Martins body was found in a snowdrift with twelve stab wounds in the chest. When questioned by Davis about this Schultz replied, I cut his heart out.

Although there was another version of events that night of the murder, author Paul Sann concluded, the Martin slaying was one of the very few that Dixie Davis did not charge up to Bo Weinberg. That had to count for something. Ironically, the other version had Bo Weinberg doing the killing.

Despite the fact that Martin was in the grave and Schultz would join him before the year was out, the restaurant racket was so successful that it continued to thrive until an investigation by Special Prosecutor Thomas E. Dewey resulted in the indictments of ten men. The trial, which began on January 18, 1937, lasted two and a half months with forty prosecution witnesses and sixty defense witnesses taking the stand. The jury took just six hours to return a verdict of all guilty on all counts. Among those handed jail sentences was Paul Coulcher who received from fifteen to twenty years.

 

 

Legal Woes

Thomas E. Dewey
Thomas E. Dewey

Thomas E. Dewey was born in Michigan in 1902. He attended the University of Michigan and graduated in 1923. He then enrolled at Columbia University Law School. After graduation he joined a law firm where he met George Z. Medalie, a prominent attorney. Medalie was so impressed with Deweys legal skills that when he was named United States attorney for the Southern District of New York, he appointed the young Dewey to the position of chief assistant.

Dewey gained valuable experience in trial preparation and in the administration of the prosecutors office. He learned about the citys underworld structure and the relationship between gangsters and politicians.

In the early 1930s, as chief assistant United States attorney, Dewey took part in several income tax prosecution cases against policy racketeers including Henry Miro and Wilfred Brunder. Here he received his first exposure to Dixie Davis, the lawyer who later represented Schultz.

In 1931, the United States attorneys office began a tedious investigation into the bootlegging operations of both Schultz and Irving Wexler, better known as Waxey Gordon. The case against Gordon went to trial in November 1933. With Dewey personally handling the prosecution, Gordon was convicted in December and received a ten-year prison sentence and a $50,000 fine.

On November 1, 1933, Medalie resigned as United States attorney and returned to private law practice. Dewey, a Republican, was appointed to fill the vacancy until President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a Democrat, named a replacement. The president named Martin T. Conboy to the position on November 25, and Dewey returned to private practice by years end.

Meanwhile, Schultz, who had been indicted on January 25, 1933, decided that instead of going to trial and losing like Gordon, it was better to go on the lam. Schultz had not filed tax returns for 1929, 1930 and 1931 and the government claimed he owed them $92,000. In addition, he was facing up to forty-three years in prison and a fine of over $100,000.

Schultz needed time and money. Prohibition was in its last year and all his income from the Noble Experiment would soon dry up. The money was needed not just for his defense fund, but also to help Jimmy Hines make sure their man got into office in the upcoming election for Manhattan District Attorney. Schultz would remain in hiding for the next twenty-two months. The New York City Police Department distributed 50,000 wanted posters worldwide for him. However, Schultz never left the greater New York area.

Madam Polly Adler
Madam Polly Adler

During his months in hiding in broad daylight Schultz visited his wife Frances, had dinner and attended nightclubs with Jimmy Hines and Dixie Davis, and was a frequent guest at Polly Adlers midtown house of sin.

All of 1933 passed without law enforcement finding Schultz who was operating freely right under their noses. Paul Sann attributes this to the fact that the mayors office was still in control of Tammany Hall. Things were about to change. New Yorkers elected reform candidate Fiorello LaGuardia mayor in 1934. The Little Flower was soon putting the squeeze on the citys underworld.

Henry Morgenthau Jr.
Henry Morgenthau Jr.

On November 1, 1934, LaGuardia received a telephone call from Henry Morgenthau, Jr., Roosevelts Secretary of the Treasury. Through this conversation Morgenthau teamed LaGuardia with FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover to put pressure on finding Schultz. Hoover made the Dutchman his undercover Public Enemy No. 1. Schultzs first reaction was to send his legal team to Washington D. C. to negotiate a settlement. Morgenthaus reply was a flat, We dont do business with criminals.

On November 28, 1934, Schultz appeared before the United States Commissioner in Albany, New York Im Arthur Flegenheimer. I am under indictment in the Southern District of New York. I wish to surrender. With that short statement twenty-two months as a fugitive came to an end as the Dutchman gave himself up.

Bail was set at $50,000 and then doubled. This would be the longest period of time Schultz spent behind bars since his teenage years. Dixie Davis got the bail reduced to $75,000, but it took several weeks before the Dutchman was released. It was at this point, while Schultz awaited trial, that he murdered Julie Martin. Despite that incident, Schultz kept himself busy by trying to improve his public image. Just before the trial got underway, the Dutchman held a press conference. With Davis at his side he answered many questions about his life and business activities. One of the questions regarded his wardrobe. The underworld leaders appearance was sometimes ridiculed in the press. One reporter referred to him as an ill-dressed vagrant, and stated that Schultz had a special talent for looking like a perfect example of the unsuccessful man. Paul Sann wrote:

Schultz, for that matter, made no secret of the frugality that governed his wardrobe. He said he never spent more than $35 or so for a suit or more than $2 for a shirt. You take silk shirts now, he told the assembled press in the big Syracuse session, I think only queers wear silk shirts. I never bought one in my life. Only a sucker will pay $15 or $20 for a silk shirt.

Schultzs frugality was also apparent to Lucky Luciano who declared:
Schultz was one of the cheapest guys I ever knew, practically a miser. Here was a guy with a couple of million bucks and he dressed like a pig. He used to brag that he never spent more than thirty-five bucks for a suit, and it hadda have two pairs of pants. His big deal was buyin a newspaper for two cents so he could read all about himself.

Before leaving the press conference, Schultz received a set of rosary beads from one citizen while another wished him Good Luck, in Yiddish.

The tax trial began on April 16, 1935. John H. McEvers, a member of the team that successfully convicted Al Capone, handled the prosecution. Many of the early witnesses McEvers put on the stand were bankers who were used to detail the Dutchmans bootlegging income. The government also had subpoenaed twenty witnesses, many of whom were reluctant to speak. Some of the witnesses that were subpoenaed went into hiding. One witness, scheduled to testify during an afternoon session, went for a morning walk and kept on walking. Bo Weinberg and several other Schultz associates developed amnesia on the stand, or pleaded the Fifth Amendment, even while being threatened with contempt charges by Federal Judge Frederick H. Bryant. New York Police Detectives Salke and DiRosa, who had arrested Schultz the morning Danny Iamascia was shot, were asked to testify. The governments thinking here was that if Schultz had $100,000 to bribe the two officers, surely he had money to pay his taxes.

Schultzs defense lasted an entire three hours. Calling just three witnesses, the Dutchmans defense was that he had been given expert legal advice that he did not need to pay taxes on his illegal income. When this advice turned out to be erroneous, Schultz made a concerted effort to pay his debt only to be rebuffed by the government. Outside the courtroom Schultz explained to reporters:

I offered $100,000 when the government was broke and people were talking revolution and they turned me down cold. You can see how that at least I was willing to pay. Everybody knows that I am being persecuted in this case. I want to pay. They were taking it from everybody else, but they wouldnt take it from me. I tried to do my duty as a citizen…

On April 27, the case went to the jury. For a day and a half Schultz walked the courts corridors nervously chain-smoking cigarettes. Perhaps it was nervousness, but while Schultz waited he spent much of his time making statements to the press on a variety of topics from his own life to Al Capone and Alcatraz. He had become a media celebrity and was seemingly enjoying the publicity he was receiving.

Despite all of the governments evidence the jury was hopelessly deadlocked. After the first day the vote stood at six to six. The second day it was seven to five for conviction. The judge discharged them at three oclock on the afternoon of April 29.

A second trial was scheduled for Malone, New York, a tiny community located ten miles south of the Canadian border. In what Paul Sann called a social rampage, Schultz arrived in town a week ahead of the trial to show the towns folk that he was a regular guy. He picked up tabs in bars and restaurants, and attended a local baseball game with the mayor and two of Malones prominent businessmen, all in the hope of softening up the town. After one of Malones clergymen rebuked his congregation for fawning over the gangster, Judge Bryant revoked Schultzs bail.

Dutch waiting for jury
Dutch waiting for jury

The prosecutions case was basically the same the bankers, the reluctant subpoenaed witnesses, and Bo Weinberg with his faulty memory. In an effort to make Schultz seem more like one of them, the defense hired a local lawyer as lead attorney. The trial, which began in mid-July, went to the jury on August 1. After a nine to three vote for acquittal on the first ballot, the jury came back on August 2, with a verdict of not guilty.

Judge Bryant was furious and he banged his gavel to quiet the joyous outburst in the courtroom. He then admonished the jurors:
You have labored long and no doubt have given careful consideration to this case. Before I discharge you I will have to say that your verdict is such that it shakes the confidence of law-abiding people in integrity and truth. It will be apparent to all who have followed the evidence in this case that you have reached a verdict based not on the evidence but on some other reason. You will have to go home with the satisfaction, if it is a satisfaction, that you have rendered a blow against law enforcement and given aid and encouragement to the people who would flout the law. In all probability, they will commend you. I cannot.

Also disappointed at the trials outcome was Mayor LaGuardia who told reporters, He wont be a resident of New York City. There is no place for him here. To which Schultz replied to the press, Tell LaGuardia I will be home tomorrow.

In reality, the acquittal was a surprise to Schultz and his defense team, not to mention his gangland peers in New York City. However, law enforcement was not giving up on Dutch Schultz and his time was running out.

Schultz did not return to New York City. Not even to Queens where his wife Frances had given birth to a son. Instead he took up residence at the Stratfield Hotel in Bridgeport, Connecticut and later at the Barnum Hotel there. Schultz was still considered a fugitive because of an outstanding federal warrant for him on tax counts that were separate from the ones he was tried on in Syracuse and Malone.

In Connecticut, Schultz and his bodyguard, Lulu Rosenkrantz found themselves the darlings of the social set and were invited to several activities. One socialite reported to a New York Sun reporter:
My dear Arthur was the answer to a hostesss prayer. When it became known that he had been invited to your party, you had nothing to worry about. Everyone came…And, really, he was charming. It was hard to believe all those horrid stories.

While hobnobbing in Connecticut, Schultz held meetings with his lawyers and Jimmy Hines. Schultz told Hines that due to his legal expenses the Tammany boss would have to take a fifty-percent wage cut until the Dutchmans problems were cleared up. On September 24, 1935, one month before his death, Schultz checked out of Bridgeport and headed to New Jersey. In Perth, Amboy, Schultz was arrested and booked on suspicion of being a fugitive. Bail was eventually set at $50,000 and on October 1, Schultz was released. He went to Newark where he took a suite at the Robert Treat Hotel and began working on his public relations image again. Schultz held court at the Palace Chop House, located around the corner from the hotel. Rosenkrantz and Abe Landau were present to keep undesirables away. The following is a sampling of comments Schultz made to one reporter who interviewed him from the Newark Star Ledger:

Q. What about the governments latest charges?

A. Theyre after me now because some puny individuals in the government cant stand up and take a licking like a man. By licking I mean they cant swallow that I was acquitted once and another jury disagreed on exactly the same charges theyve got against me now. The only difference between the charges now and then is that they slapped a different name on them… Now right here Im going to tell you something, and I wouldnt give you a bum steer. Perjured witnesses were used against me in both trials and the government knew it.

Q. What about the Public Enemy No. 1 label?

A. I never did anything to deserve that reputation, unless it was to supply good beer to people who wanted it and a lot of them did.

Q. What about the future?

A. I want to settle down and be a plain citizen and be given a chance to earn a living. I want to be plain Arthur Flegenheimer and forget there ever was a Dutch Schultz. That bird has had too much trouble.

Back in June of 1935, New York Governor Herbert H. Lehman appointed Thomas Dewey to the position of Special Prosecutor. Dewey later pointed out that the District Attorney of New York County, Tammany man William Copeland Dodge, held a news conference to announce Deweys appointment. (The appointment of a Special Prosecutor had been the demand of the grand jury, which was disgusted with, and refused to work with, Dodge and his staff.) At the press conference, Dodge stated that Dewey had the complete support of his office. Dewey claimed this was an outright lie, that he had no support at all, and that he was given the title of Deputy Assistant District Attorney the lowest title in the prosecutors office, by Dodge. Dewey joked that he was appointed to clean up New York with no staff, no office, no police, no budget appropriation and, … no sense whatever.

However, Tom Dewey and Dutch Schultz were now on a collision course.

 

Due to the failure to convict Schultz in the first two trials, Dewey was planning a more substantive case. He wanted to pursue Schultz in connection with his policy empire too. Before Dewey could put a case together, the federal authorities struck first. On October 10, 1935 a federal grand jury indicted Schultz on a variation of the old charges. So as not to create a double jeopardy situation, the felony counts for wilful tax evasion were dropped, and Schultz was charged instead with eleven misdemeanor counts of failing to file tax returns for 1929, 1930, and 1931.

Despite the federal indictment, it was Dewey who had incurred Schultzs wrath. Deweys wife, Frances, began receiving threatening phone calls. One instructed her to go down to the morgue and identify her husbands body. Frances Dewey was almost nine months pregnant at the time; she gave birth to a son on October 18. Dewey heard from street sources that there was a $25,000 price tag on his head. J. Edgar Hoover heard the same rumors and wrote Dewey a letter warning him to be careful. It would take five years for Dewey to find out how close he was to becoming a murder victim of organized crime.

Charles 'Lucky' Luciano
Charles ‘Lucky’ Luciano

In The Last Testament of Lucky Luciano, by Martin A. Gosch and Richard Hammer, Luciano claims that Schultz came to him for assistance just before he became a fugitive in 1933. Luciano sent him to Albert Anastasia who provided a well protected hide out. While Schultz was in hiding prior to his two tax trials, his mob contemporaries were licking their chops over dividing his empire. Until the Schultz acquittal the federal government had never lost a tax case against a gangster. There was no reason to think that it would be any different this time.

Luciano describes the feelings of the New York underworld when it looked like the government was about to put Schultz away:

One day, during a meeting with Lansky at the Waldorf to discuss the Cuban gambling operations, the talk turned to the odds against Schultz if and when he surrendered. Lanskys estimation was that the odds favored conviction, and many of Lucianos friends, including Zwillman, Adonis and Genovese, were already anticipating that day, for it would mean that the Dutchmans empire would be parceled out under Lucianos direction. I had a lot of different feelins about that. What Meyer was sayin was true, and it really looked like Schultz was gonna take a bath and there wasnt a damn thing anybody could do about it no way to fix it that I could see.

The individual who had the most to worry about if Schultz was acquitted was Bo Weinberg. When the Dutchmans legal problems started to drain his rackets of money, Weinberg became concerned that the Schultz empire would become decimated. He went to see Abner Longy Zwillman, a prominent New Jersey mob boss to seek advice. Zwillman set up a meeting with Luciano. At this meeting Luciano claims Weinberg offered to reveal all of Schultzs interests and turn the empire over intact to Luciano, Zwillman and their allies, who, he knew, were already making moves in that direction.

In return, Weinberg wanted to continue to oversee the operations and collect his fifteen percent of the profits.

Luciano listened to Weinbergs proposal then called a meeting at his Waldorf Towers apartment. In attendance were Zwillman, Joe Adonis, Frank Costello, Meyer Lansky, Lepke Buchalter, Tommy Lucchese, and Vito Genovese:

I explained Weinbergs deal and I told them I felt like a grave-robber in a way. Here we was, tudyin about tudyin up Schultz and he wasnt even in the can yet. Then we got down to cases. The responsibility for breakin up Schultzs territory hadda be mine because thats the way everybody wanted it. And if, by some miracle, he beat the rap, everythin would go back to him. In his division, Luciano gave policy and gambling to Costello and Lansky, liquor to Adonis, restaurant rackets to Lepke and Lucchese, as well as other enforcement operations. Zwillman received the New Jersey operations, after promising to split them with (Willie) Moretti.

As we know, Schultz did beat the rap and soon realized that changes had occurred while he was gone. He requested a meeting with Luciano. What Schultz discussed at that get-together astonished Luciano:
The day Schultz come to see me at the Towers, Vito was with me. The Dutchman was so excited that wed all been so nice to him that he almost started to cry. And then, Ill be damned if he didnt start to talk about the Catholic religion; he wanted to know what it was like to be a Catholic, whether Vito and me ever went to confession, if we knew what a guy had to do to switch into Catholicism from bein a Jew. I almost fell over when he told us that while he was layin low, in all his spare time, he was tudying to be a Catholic. I swear, from that minute on, the Dutchman spent more time on his knees than he did on his feet. He told us he was sure Christ was what helped him get through the bad eighteen months, and what finally got him the acquittal.

Despite the religious revelations, Schultz soon realized who had betrayed him. In New Jersey, Schultz had his men stake out the palatial estate of Longy Zwillman. Allegedly, on September 9, Weinberg was spotted at Zwillmans home. Schultz was notified and arrived outside of Zwillmans to meet Weinberg as he left. Luciano claims that one of Schultzs men on the stake out revealed that he watched the Dutchman kill Weinberg with his bare hands. Another rumor had it that Schultzs men kidnapped Weinberg and encased his feet in cement before dumping him still breathing into the East River. Despite a variety of rumors, Bo Weinberg was never seen again.

By the second week of October 1935, the federal government had indicted Schultz, and he knew Dewey was working on a case involving his policy empire. While the Dutchman was plotting strategy, Luciano claims he received a visit from Albert Anastasia, the Mad Hatter, also known as the Lord-High Executioner of Murder, Inc. Anastasia told Luciano that Schultz asked him to stake out Deweys Fifth Avenue apartment to see how difficult it would be to knock off the Special Prosecutor.

The plot to assassinate Thomas Dewey was revealed to law enforcement by Abe Kid Twist Reles in 1940, some five years after Schultzs death. Assistant Prosecutor Burton Turkus wrote Murder, Inc., in 1951 with Sid Feder, and discussed the plot in detail. Deweys morning ritual was to leave home, accompanied by two bodyguards (these assigned after the threatening phone calls). He would enter a drug store just a few blocks from his home, and while his bodyguards waited outside, he would call his office from a phone booth inside the store. The plan called for a gunman with a silencer to be in the drug store waiting until Dewey was in the booth. The assassin would then kill the prosecutor and the stores proprietor.

There are different versions of what happened next. According to Luciano, he called a meeting, which lasted almost six hours, to discuss the plot and its ramifications. He claims a vote of the Sicilian participants was taken and it was decided that Schultz had to be hit immediately.

What Turkus reported in Murder, Inc. was quite different. He claims that a meeting was called, separate from Schultzs problems with Dewey, and a discussion was held about what to do with the prosecutor. Turkus writes, Following protocol and procedure very carefully, the new democratic order limited discussion to the question of whether Dewey should be stopped and if so, the extent of the stopping. The group decided that murdering a prosecutor was not just any mob job…in order to allow for profound thought, a one-week moratorium was agreed upon.

Albert Anastasia
Albert Anastasia

Schultz, according to the Turkus version, urged the group to be proactive and have a plan in the works if the decision came through to kill Dewey. It was at this point, in this scenario, that Anastasia was dispatched to stake out Dewey and propose a plan of action.

When the group reconvened, Anastasia presented his plan. After a long discussion, the group, spurred on by Lepkes sage and forceful persuasion, backed by Lucky…decided to permit Dewey to live. Schultz was incensed at the groups decision and decided he was going to execute the murder plan himself. Turkus claims, He boasted that he was going to get the big racket-buster in forty-eight hours!

 

October 23, 1935

As with the plot to assassinate Tom Dewey, there are several versions of what took place in Newark, New Jersey on the night of October 23, 1935 in the Palace Chop House. As some movies and books suggest, the four men who were shot that night did not die where they sat, blasted into eternity by the guns of the sinister killers of Murder, Inc. In fact, none of the men shot in the restaurant actually died there. In reality it was quite a shoot out in the true sense of the term with partys firing back and forth and chasing each other through the restaurant leaving unanswered questions to this very day.

Charlie 'The Bug' Workman
Charlie ‘The Bug’ Workman

Selected to carry out the hit were Murder, Inc. stalwarts Charles Charlie the Bug Workman, Emanuel Mendy Weiss, and the driver, an individual who will be remembered throughout the ages only as Piggy. On the night of the murders we have one version of what happened from second hand knowledge of the killings. Workman and Weiss never confessed to law enforcement the events of that evening, but they had conversations with other members of Murder, Inc. who later ratted out their compatriots to the authorities.

Emmanuel 'Mendy' Weiss
Emmanuel ‘Mendy’
Weiss

According to Burton Turkus, Workman strolled into the Palace Chop House while Weiss provided cover, and Piggy sat poised behind the wheel. Workman walked the length of the bar and then flipped open the door to the mens room. Inside was a man washing his hands who Workman thought was a Schultzbodyguard. He shot the man who immediately dropped to the floor.

Workman then darted into the back dining room and opened up on the Schultz men Lulu Rosencrantz, Abe Landau and Abbadabba Berman wounding all three. Not seeing Dutch among the wounded, Workman realized Schultz must have been the man washing his hands. He then went back to rifle Schultzs pockets for cash, which was said to be Workmans custom.

Paul Sann provided a different description of the shooting. He states that both Weiss and Workman blasted away at the three men in the dining room first. Then, after not spotting Schultz, Workman went into the mens room and found Dutch relieving himself at the urinal. Workman fired twice and one bullet hit Schultz causing a mortal wound. Again, Workman was said to have searched Schultz for money.

Rosenkrantz, who was believed to have been sitting with his back to the doorway, was hit seven times. He suffered wounds in the chest, abdomen, right arm, and right foot. Berman, the oldest and heaviest of the shooting victims, was hit six times body, neck, wrist, elbow and shoulder. He dropped to the floor and remained there. Abe Landau, who the newspapers originally identified as Leo Frank, took three bullets in the back, left arm, and right wrist.

Landau, although wounded in his shooting arm, pulled a .45 automatic and gave chase, with Rosenkrantz behind him. Landau fired wildly as he staggered after Workman. When he made it to the street, his gun empty, he fell backward, landing in a garbage can in a sitting position. Rosenkrantz had collapsed momentarily on the floor of the restaurant.

If Turkuss tale is true, it seems amazing that two gunmen, who could react while riddled with bullets, couldnt hear Schultz getting shot first and react faster. All the crime scene information indicates that the three men were sitting when they were fired upon. If Sanns account is true, why didnt Schultz react by trying to hide or escape when he heard all the blasting going on outside? (We are told that Schultz wasnt armed.) Sann states that after Workman emptied his .38 he looked in the mens room and found Schultz relieving himself. Certainly the cautious thirty-five year old Schultz, would have heard the shots, tucked it away, and been on the move. Also, with Landau and Rosenkrantz after him, how could Workman have had the time, not only to shoot Schultz, but go through his pockets? While these remain interesting questions, they will never be answered.

After Schultz staggered out of the mens room he collapsed at a table. He moaned, Get a doctor, quick. At this point Rosenkrantz pulled himself up from the floor and incredibly gave the restaurant owner a quarter and asked for change so he could make a nickel phone call. He then dialed O on the restaurants payphone before collapsing again.

All four men were transported to Newark City Hospital and were surrounded there by police officers asking questions.

Who shot you? asked Newark Police Chief John Harris.
Let me alone, replied Schultz. Youre killing me. Im getting weaker.

Rosenkrantz was even less cooperative. Get the hell away from me, he hollered. Go out and get me an ice cream soda.

Berman was the first to die, passing away at 2:55 a.m. about four and half-hours after the shooting. Landau followed him at 6:30 a.m., as too much blood was lost from a severed artery in his neck. Rosenkrantz held out the longest of the four victims. He passed away at 3:20 a.m. on October 25.

The men shot with the Dutchman in the Palace Chop House were not the only Schultz associates under the gun that night. Apparently Murder, Inc. was going for a clean sweep. Marty Krompier, Schultzs accomplice in the Chink Sherman beating, had been assigned to keep an eye on the Dutchmans Manhattan interests while the boss was in self-imposed exile across the Hudson River. Krompier was Schultzs chief enforcer of the Harlem numbers rackets and kept the policy bankers in line.

Marty Krompier
Marty Krompier

As was his custom, Krompier stopped at the Hollywood Barber Shop at Seventh Avenue and Forty-seventh Street around midnight with his brother Jules and bookmaker, Sammy Gold. The three men occupied barber stools, with Marty in the middle. His shave completed, Krompier stood looking at himself in the mirror, while a Black porter was poised behind him waiting to help him on with his coat.

At that moment, a gunman, described as a short dark man, wearing a dark hat, brown overcoat and dark suit, entered the shop. Waiting for the porter to clear his line of fire, the gunman grew impatient and sent a bullet crashing into the ceiling. Bullets from at least two guns were flying with four slugs hitting Marty Krompier and two catching Gold. Jules Krompier escaped harm. Another gunman had fired from the doorway because at least seven bullets were spent, and witnesses saw four men hurry away. The first shooter sped out the door and fled through a nearby subway, discarding a .38 Smith & Wesson revolver on the steps. The gun still had two live rounds in the cylinder.

Krompier was critically wounded. He was hit in the chest, stomach, and both arms. Gold was hit in his left side and arm. When police arrived they asked Krompier if he saw the gunman.

Sure, replied Krompier. Id know him if I saw him again.

Had he ever seen the man before, questioned one officer.

No, I dont know him. Id know him if I ever saw him again, said Krompier.

The wounded men were taken to New Yorks Polyclinic Hospital, where Arnold Rothstein had succumbed to gunfire seven years earlier. Krompier received blood transfusions from Jules and another brother, Milton. Doctors could not remove the bullet in Krompiers abdomen, which had lodged itself deep in his intestines. The prognosis was not good.

Back at Newark City Hospital, Schultz was still languishing. The bullet that went through him was a rusty steel-jacketed .45 that entered just below his chest on the left side. The slug ripped through his abdomen, passing through his large intestines, gall bladder, and liver before exiting his body. His spleen and stomach were also perforated. There was tremendous internal damage and bleeding. In addition, peritonitis, an inflammation of the abdominal wall, had set in. Schultz was on the operating table for ninety minutes.

The Dutchman was placed in a vacant four-bed ward on the hospitals second floor surrounded by police officials who were still trying to question the dying mobster. While still coherent, he asked for a priest. Father Cornelius McInerney was summoned. Schultz wanted to die a Catholic. Father McInerney baptized him and gave Schultz the last rites of the Catholic Church. He then stayed and comforted the three women in the Dutchmans life his mother, sister and wife.

Schultz shortly before his death
Schultz shortly before his
death

Schultz showed some signs of rallying, but by 2:00 p.m. on October 24, he began to fade. As he did he began to ramble. Police officials in the room began to write down what the Dutchman was saying. By four oclock, Police Chief Harris assigned a stenographer to record the statements of Schultz who was passing in and out of consciousness with a 106-degree temperature. His last words were spoken at 6:00 p.m. and then Schultz fell into a deep coma. At 8:20 p.m., the Dutchmans young wife was allowed to enter the room and say her farewell. At 8:35 Schultz passed into eternity.

Schultzs deathbed statements were a cryptic, yet poetic, rambling in gangster jargon. It was reported that the text of his statements was practically a glossary of mobster lingo, so rich in form that scholars would later study them as a piece of American folk literature. Priceless among his incoherent uttering was the comment, Mother is the best bet and dont let Satan draw you too fast. In 1969, writer William S. Burroughs, author of the Naked Lunch, wrote The Last Words of Dutch Schultz: A Fiction in the Form of a Film Script, based on the Dutchmans last hours.

In life, Schultz had been able to avoid a fate that happened to many of his bootlegging colleagues being taken for a one way ride. Ironically, in death, thats exactly what happened, and it took place under the noses of police guards assigned to watch his body.

On October 28, employees of Daniel F. Coughlin & Brothers, an undertaking establishment, were able to sneak Schultzs coffin out of the funeral parlor and into a hearse. From 4:30 to 10:00 a.m. they drove the body around the city making frequent stops for coffee. At 10:00 a.m. they met Richard Coughlin at the Yonkers city limit and he accompanied the hearse to the Gate of Heaven Cemetery for burial.

At the cemetery there were three mourners, Schultzs mother, Mrs. Emma Flegenheimer, his sister, Mrs Helen Ursprung, and wife, Mrs. Frances Flegenheimer. Two state troopers and Father McInerney who had baptized Schultz just before his death accompanied them.

At his mothers request, the traditional Jewish talis, or praying shawl, was draped over his shoulders. Schultz was buried in consecrated ground due to his deathbed conversion to the Catholic faith. The gravesite was located less than one hundred yards from slain bootlegger and Broadway personality Larry Fay.

An apparent gangland snub, only four floral tributes arrived at the grave.

 

After a series of operations, and a nine-week hospital stay with around the clock security, Marty Krompier was released on New Years Day 1936. Sammy Gold had recovered from his wounds and was released not long after the shooting.

On July 14, 1937 a grand jury handed down a dozen policy racket indictments. Heading the list was former Schultz attorney, Dixie Davis, who, for all intents and purposes, had taken over the Harlem numbers operations. Also indicted were George Weinberg and Harry Schoenhaus who oversaw the Harlem bankers. Davis and Weinberg fled to Philadelphia where they were later arrested and extradited back to New York. Schoenhaus turned himself in.

Jimmy Hines
Jimmy Hines

Despite their years of illegal activity in the numbers rackets, Thomas Dewey was willing to make a deal with the trio because he wanted to put the corrupt Tammany leader Jimmy Hines away. The three men agreed to plea bargain for reduced sentences and testify against Hines. On May 25, 1938, Hines, the most powerful Democrat in New York State, was arrested for his role in the numbers operation. His trial began on August 15, 1938. The key witnesses testified against Hines, first Weinberg, then Davis, and finally Schoenhaus. Other witnesses were called to prove that Hines was the money conduit between the Schultz organization and the election of William C. Dodge as district attorney in 1934. But, in September, the judge declared a mistrial after Dewey made a comment about Hines one-time participation in a poultry racket.

On January 26, 1939 Jimmy Hines second trial got underway. A new judge was assigned to hear the case. The three witnesses were held in protective custody and were being moved around to avoid detection. Weinberg grew increasingly fearful that he would be murdered for turning states evidence. On Sunday January 29, three days after the second trial began, Weinberg went to a closet in the safe house where he was being kept and lifted a gun from the jacket pocket of one of his guards. He took it into a bathroom and committed suicide.

Weinbergs previous testimony was read back to the jury and when the case concluded Hines was found guilty on thirteen counts on February 25, 1939. Hines was sentenced to four to eight years in prison. After his appeals were exhausted, he entered Sing Sing Prison on October 14, 1940. Hines was released in August 1944 and returned to New York City where he died in 1957.

Due to his cooperation, Dixie Davis received a one-year prison sentence. Upon his release he moved to California. On December 31, 1969, Davis raced home after learning that his Bel Air home had been the site of an armed robbery. Thieves had entered the house, tied up his wife, grandson, and a maid, and then ransacked the home. Davis entered the house, sat down in the living room and suffered a massive heart attack that took his life.

Frances Flegenheimer (Mrs Dutch Schultz)
Frances
Flegenheimer
(Mrs Dutch Schultz)

Frances Flegenheimer, the young cigarette girl who bore Schultz two children, (it was never really clear if the couple had married) moved west to raise her family out of the New York City limelight.

When Abe Reles became a government witness in 1940 and ratted on the Murder, Inc. gang, the trial of Charles Workman for the murder of Schultz and his henchmen was one of the first to get underway. Eight days into the trial, Workman changed his plea to no contest and the judge sentenced him to life in prison. He was released in 1964.

Although not tried for the Schultz murder, Emmanuel Mendy Weiss suffered a worse fate. He was found guilty of the murder of a storeowner along with Lepke Buchalter and Louis Capone. After final pleas to the then Governor, Dewey, were declined, the three men were put to death in Sing Sings electric chair on March 4, 1944.

In 1937, Dewey was elected District Attorney of New York County. He was sworn in on December 31. In 1943, Dewey became Governor of New York and served three terms. While governor, Dewey was the Republican candidate for president twice. He lost in 1944 to Franklin D. Roosevelt and in 1948 to Harry S. Truman. Thomas Dewey died on March 16, 1971 in Bal Harbour, Florida at the age of 69.

 

Date

Event

Aug. 6, 1902

Born Arthur Simon Flegenheimer a German Jew on the Lower East Side

Dec. 12, 1919

Schultz is arrested for burglary of Bronx apartment and sent to Blackwells Island

July 1925

Schultz is appointed deputy sheriff in the Bronx, so he can carry a gun

Oct. 15, 1928

Joey Noe wounded in shootout outside Chateau Madrid nightclub

Nov. 4, 1928

Arnold Rothstein is shot by George McManus and died two days later

Nov. 21, 1928

Joey Noe dies

May 1929

Schultz attends Atlantic City Conference

April 1931 – Feb. 1932

The Coll / Schultz War

May 31, 1931

Peter Coll is murdered by Schultz gunmen

June 18, 1931

Danny Iamascia killed by police and Schultz is arrested

July 15, 1931

Coll kidnaps DeMange and Madden pays $35,000 for his return

July 28, 1931

Colls attack on Joey Rao leaves five children wounded, one dies

Sept. 1931

Schultz’s name is on Salvatore Maranzanos hit list

Sept. 10, 1931

Murder of Salvatore Maranzano, Bo Weinberg is involved

Oct. 2, 1931

Joe Mullen, a Schultz employee, is murdered by ex-Schultz gang members now with Coll

Oct. 4, 1931

Coll arrested for the Baby Murder attack

Dec. 18, 1931

Murder of Legs Diamond, Bo
Weinberg is involved

Dec. 1931

Coll and Frank Giordano are acquitted in Baby Killer case

Feb. 1, 1932

Patsy Del Greco, Fiorio Basile, and Emily Torrizello are killed by Schultz gunmen

Feb. 9, 1932

Murder of Vincent Coll, Bo Weinberg is involved

Jan. 25, 1933

Schultz is indicted for income tax violation

January 1933

Schultz is a fugitive avoiding

Nov 1934

arrest for the income tax indictment

Nov. 28, 1934

Schultz surrenders in Albany on the tax indictment charges

April 16, 1935

Schultzs tax trial begins in Syracuse

April 29, 1935

The tax case ends in a hung jury

Aug. 2, 1935

In second tax trial in Malone, NY, Schultz is acquitted

Sept. 9, 1935

Bo Weinberg disappears, is believed to have been killed by Schultz

Oct. 23, 1935

Schultz, Landau, Rosenkrantz & Berman are ambushed in the Palace Chop House in Newark by Workman and Weiss. Schultzs lieutenant Marty Krompier is critically wounded in Manhattan a few hours later.

Oct. 28, 1935

Dutch Schultz is buried at Gate of Heaven Cemetery

July 14, 1937

George Weinberg and Dixie Davis are indicted for policy racketeering by Dewey

May 25, 1938

Jimmy Hines is indicted for his role in the policy operation

Aug. 15, 1938

First Hines trial begins

Sept. 1938

Judge calls a mistrial

Jan. 26, 1939

Second Hines trial begins

Jan. 29, 1939

George Weinberg commits suicide

Feb. 25, 1939

Hines is found guilty and sentenced to prison

Oct. 14, 1940

Hines enters Sing Sing Prison

June 9, 1941

Workman pleads no contest to Chop House murders and is sentenced to life in prison

March 4, 1944

Weiss, Buchalter and Capone are electrocuted in Sing Sing death house

August 1944

Hines is released from prison, he dies in 1957

Dec. 31, 1969

Davis dies of a heart attack after his home in California is broken into

March 16, 1971

Thomas Dewey dies in Florida

New YorkHerald Tribune
New York Times

Dewey, Thomas E. Twenty Against the Underworld 1974 Doubleday and Company

Gosch, Martin A. and Richard Hammer The Last Testament of Lucky Luciano 1975 Little, Brown and Company

Levine, Gary Jack Legs Diamond: Anatomy of a Gangster 1995 Purple Mountain Press

Peterson, Virgil The Mob: 200 Years of Organized Crime in New York 1993 Green Hill Publishers, Inc.

Sann, Paul Kill the Dutchman 1971 Arlington House

Schatzberg, Rufus Black Organized Crime in Harlem: 1920 1930 1993 Garland Publishing Company

Thompson, Craig and Allen Raymond Gang Rule in New York 1940 The Dial Press

Turkus, Burton B. and Sid Feder Murder, Inc. 1951 Farrar, Straus & Young