Was there a gangster story in your family???

[Raider]

My wife's family has several members (great-grandparents, aunts and uncles) buried in Cottondale, Texas. One of the highlights at reunions on the grounds is finding "Machine Gun Kelly"......he's buried there, as well.

 

[The Good]

Well, as a branch of my family is of Italian origin (actually, half Sicilian, half Tuscan), I've heard a rumor that at least one ancestor may have been associated with the Mafia in the U.S. It may be true, or false, though. However, I can assume that most of that branch of my family were honest men, and some even fought for the U.S. during World War II. One of my late uncles, was an aviator, for example. For the record, I'm 25% Italian, but my last name is of such origins.

 

[Guttersnipe]

It is quite well known that Capone ran the Chicago syndicate from inside federal prison. It wasn't until his transfer to the federal prison at Alcatraz, in August, 1934, that his power passed to his lieutenants.

A thousand pardons. The Capone gang, that was still very much around...

and

Big Al had been incarcerated since October '31. In 1933 he was serving federal time in Atlanta.
Best, Toots

 

[jharrell]

Grandfather

My grandfather ran liquor during the first part of prohibition. This wasn't his full time job, just an occasional thing to earn some cash. He made up for it when he was in the FBI in the early 30's. He used to tell the story of being used as filler for a line-up one time. Naturally he was the one "fingered" as the bank robber. He was an interesting and fun man who I still think about at least once every day.

 

[DanielJones]

Well, my Grandfather on my Mothers side used to run numbers in Chicago back in the 20's & 30's, possibly for one of Capone's rackets. Although he didn't have direct contact.
I'm finding out, through some of my Pop's dementia ramblings (he's 81 now with Parkinsons), that he ran with a neighborhood gang when he was a teenager in Long Island back in the early 40's. It sort of falls into place with some of the stories that he used to tell me about making zip guns and pipe shotguns to carry around. They used to make them in metal shop in school (and he went to a Catholic school). That & being Sicilian it stands to reason back then. There are other stories that I have heard from him recently that he would have never told me if his mind was right that sound like neighborhood gang activity & a violent reprisal. Though, I think, because of the dementia, I can't be sure they actually happened. But if they did, oh boy, what a family story that is. Just when you thought you knew your family, little things like that pop out of the woodwork. Just goes to show I guess.

Cheers!

Dan

 

[Mike in Seattle]

In the 40s, Dad worked part-time as a dealer on a gambling ship anchored beyond the then-three-mile limit off LA. He met Bugsy Siegel and "the Flamingo" Virginia Hill once or twice. Dad didn't have the job THAT long before Siegel was killed. He met Mickey Cohen (Siegel's righthand man and post-shoot-out successor) and saw various celebrities as well.

Dad & Mom were dating at the time, and she thought she was just such the wild child having this secret life. They'd would catch a launch out of Long Beach and she'd get to spend a few hours in this floating casino with celebrities and politicos on Saturday night, and then get up early the next morning to go to the Church of God where my grandparents were long-standing pillars of the church. They thought Dad was studying hard all week to become an accountant and barely scraping by making a living teaching tennis, and what a fine upstanding young man he was.

My grandparents never knew, and one of my cousins (in her late-60s now) only heard about it from Mom's last surviving sister-in-law a couple of years ago when there was a story in a magazine or newspaper down there I guess probably awhile after LA Confidential came out. My aunt mentioned something and my cousin didn't believe it. So I get a call from my cousin basically saying our poor old aunt is finally off her trolley. She's 100 or 101 now and drove & shopped & gardened & so forth until just a 4-5 years ago. "She said your dad worked for Bugsy Siegel on some boat halfway to Catalina." "Right...it wasn't halfway to Catalina - it was just outside the three mile limit. Didn't you know this before?" "NO WAY!" "Sure - he started working as a dealer shortly before he met Mom and continued for a couple of years." "He taught tennis...he taught me to play - I still have one of his rackets!" Like working on a gambling ship and play tennis are mutually exclusive, right?

So in a roundabout way, there was a connection with gangsters and my folks. Mom said, too, at times she sort of hoped the ship would be raided and my grandparents would awake to find her not yet home from the evening and find a front page scandal story in the paper with a shot of her in a crowd being hauled off to the hoosegow. They'd NEVER have gone to bed before she was in - she was the last child still at home out of 8. They were way too uptight...although...with 8 surving kids (2 more died in infancy and Grandma miscarried once that I know about) - they weren't THAT uptight! But Dad said he knew he was dead if Mom missed her curfew or if "anything" happened.

 

[Zombie_61]

In the 40s, Dad worked part-time as a dealer on a gambling ship anchored beyond the then-three-mile limit off LA.

Wow. Let me tell you a little story...

My parents met when they both worked for "an organized crime figure" named Anthony Cornero Stralla, a.k.a. Tony Cornero, a.k.a. "The Admiral", a.k.a. "Tony the Hat". Among other things, Tony owned and operated two "floating casinos" (cruise ships that had been converted for gambling) off the Los Angeles coast from 1938 until 1946; many of his customers were also "organized crime figures". My parents worked for him on the S.S. Rex; dad was an accountant and mom was a cigarette girl. They met primarly because mom was "mathematically challenged", so dad would help her sort out her tabs and tips at the end of her shifts; I'm sure the fact that mom bore a slight resemblance to Jean Harlow didn't hurt.

Tony Cornero had a system in place in case his ships ever got boarded by local law enforcement--as the police boarded one side, his "notorious" customers would go over the other side and escape in the same launches that brought them to the ships. According to my "uncle" (he was actually my father's cousin), during the major raid that eventually led to the end of Tony's floating enterprise my father grabbed all of the books and as much money as he could carry and went over the side with the customers. Not knowing this, Tony assumed the police had confiscated everything...until my father contacted him days later after the situation had calmed down. As a reward for dad's quick thinking and action, Tony ensured he always had a job until the day he reached the mandatory retirement age. In addition...well, we weren't rich by any measure, but my parents never had any financial worries.

Though my father rarely talked about those days, my mother talked about them quite often. She was proud of the fact that she would take home thousands of dollars in tips every night, and that Tony always had one of his personal bodyguards escort her home so that she'd arrive safely (until she and my father started dating, that is). She would often comment about how the girls "had to know what the gangsters drank" and remarked at how they could sit gambling and drinking heavily for hours on end without appearing drunk. She also said Tony didn't particularly like most of his customers, and always referred to them as "squirrels".

We have no way of confirming it (both my parents and my uncle are gone now), but my sister and I are convinced my father and "uncle" also did some occasional "strong arm" work for Cornero and/or one of his associates. Short-of-stature by today's standards (they were both about 5'7" tall) my father was quite muscular and my uncle, who was a marine in WWII, was a stocky bull of a man. I've heard enough stories and seen enough while I was growing up to know they could both handle themselves more than adequately in a physical altercation. I'd share some of the stories, but I've already babbled on long enough.

So, Mike, after reading your post I have to wonder about the possibilites that my parents and your parents knew (or knew of) each other. We'll probably never know for sure, but it's an interesting thought. Small world, isn't it?

 

[dhermann1]

I just had a reunion with my cousin who I hadn't seen in 45 years. Yes, 45 years. It was pretty cool.
One thing he told me about that I had NEVER heard, was that my great grandparents had run a speak easy during prohibition. Of course, every 5th house held a speak in those days, but apparently it was a pretty big deal.
The family ran a mushroom farm (can't make this stuff up, ya know?), and it served as a cover for the operation. They were located somewhere near Paramus, NJ. Supposedly famous people like Babe Ruth frquented the place. (I think the Babe must have kept MANY speakeasies in business.)

 

[davestlouis]

My first wife's grandfather was an enforcer/rent collector who would up dead from 2 shots to the forehead. The young man who was found several days later holding the old man's wallet was never charged or convicted, but did have the misfortune of winding up dead several weeks later...nobody's talking, and this happened in 1981.

This same man apparently went away for several years in the 50s on an obscenity charge...he was running "stag films" in the back room of a tavern and got nabbed.

I have a recently-deceased female relative who owned a tavern in South St. Louis, and got busted running a book-making operation in the early 60s, went bye-bye for awhile. Until the Alzheimer's got her, she carried a Smith & Wesson J-Frame snubby in her purse.

 

[Gaige]

My great-uncle Carl worked for the Pullman Train Co. in Chicago and was sort of a bigwig. It's said that Capone would have a private caboose, and Great-Uncle Carl was one of the only employees trusted enough to enter it.

 

[J.J. Gittes]

My great grandfather, Charlie Berns was the founder and owner of the famous 21 Club in New York.
There are lots of stories I have written down I'll have to go find, or ask my grandmother again. One off the top of my head directly gangster related was a scar running across his neck,the story goes is that he got threatened by the mob, and well, ya know.... I'll have to get the details again.

 

[BellyTank]

My family were active on the south coast of England,
about 200 years ago.


B
T

 

[FedoraFan112390]

My grandpa on my mother's side was a cousin somehow to Al Capone; His father supposedly worked as a "Junk Dealer" and was an immigrant who owned numerous properties here by the time he died; His brother was a Mafioso of some sort and his brother's children ran with the Gallo brothers. My great uncle worked as a steamfitter with a union in NYC until his death in the mid 70s; I know the mafia owned most unions in the New York area in the '70s.

My step-grandpa worked as a longshoreman in his youth, probably sometime during the 30s-50s (since he was born in 1917) though he was Irish I'm sure he was aware of who was really in charge of the longshoreman industry.

My great-grandpa (dad's dad's dad) was an Italian gangster of some sort who served 5 years in prison during the early-mid 1930s for being involved in an Arson ring and was a respected bookmaker and loan-shark, well known and respected; During the Depression, he prospered, with a new car and other things. My grandpa can recall "Uncle Meyer (Lansky)" coming to the house often when he was a young child. We don't know how high up my great grandpa was or if he was a made guy or anything, but still. His cousin was Crazy Joe Gallo.

 

[Mr Vim]

My Great Grandfather on my mother's side had a farm in Illinois, and at one point, so the story goes, a group of men came out on the farm one day. They all wore expensive looking suits and had a very fast looking car, that's what my great grandfather noticed. And they wanted to stay the night in the barn, and pay for it.

My great grandfather told them it was fine to sleep in the barn, but he also told them he had a rifle in the house, and if they came within a hundred yards of his home, he'd shoot them dead. The man who did the talking told him they wouldn't bother him or his family. The next day they left, my great grandfather declined any money, and that was it.

Several months later, Baby Face Nelson (really named Lester Gillis) was shot dead and his photo was in the paper. My great grandfather then realized that this was the man he had spoken to and had stayed on their farm.

 

[Asdf]

I remember my grandmother telling me about a distant relative of mine who got disowned...

In the Second World War, he worked for MI6, I think (it was one of the main British secret services, anyway) but turned out to be a double agent for Germany.

Not quite a gangster as such, but spy's just as interesting

 

[Chainsaw]

My best buddy Dave's dad got a unexpected call one day. He talked for half a hour, and the handed the phone to my buddy. "Eh, Dave say 'ehello." So my buddy says hi to the guy, and hands it back to his father. After-wards he tells him that was a call from south America, it was one of the guys that pulled off the great train robbery.

Me I don't know anybody.

 

[ThesFlishThngs]

In 1984 there was a deadly bank robbery in the small town of Geronimo, Oklahoma, which is about 15 miles from my hometown. Shortly after the event, my mother told me it wasn't the first Geronimo bank robbery, & that during the Depression some characters from my dad's family had robbed it first. But they didn't kill anyone, as far as I know.

My only other 'bad boy' connection is the fact that my grandfather's mother was a relation to Hank Williams. Unfortunately, the keeper of all our juicy family details was my very religious Nazarene grandmother, to whom these tales were best forgotten.

 

[DerMann]

No, no one in my family was involved in any sort of organized crime syndicates.

However, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, my grandfather, a Chicago native and WWII vet, had moved to Mexico where he met my grandmother in the 1950s. When my mom and her sister were born and fairly old (about 6), he would strategically fill the family station wagon with exotic birds he would collect in Mexico and chloroform, literally fill as in under the dash between the doors, and under seat cushions.

He would then drive across the border and sell them for an immense amount of cash. My mother recalls on one occasion that there was an unusually long line at the border and the chloroform started wearing off the birds and by the time they got to the check point, my grandfather had the two of them pretending to be squawking to cover up the noise the concealed parrots and what not were making.

I think after that trip he shut down his avian cartel.

 

[doctor dan]

In my dads 97 years I only saw him take a drink twice. But growing up my mom would always tell me that my dad in his younger days had a wild side but never said what. When he was 92 he had to have a operation and the effect of being put under for a extended period of time and all the drugs gave him instant alsheimers. The doctor said that the effect would wear off but it could take up to a year. On my weekly visits he would some times recognize me and some time not. He would ask me what crops are going to be planted, we live in the suburbs. We have a family auto business and he would tell me that durning the depression he would make $200 a week doing coustom work for rich clients. It not that I didn't beleive him but my father inlaw made 15cents a hour at that time. On one of my weekly visits to the care center I walked in said hello and my dad said," I'm not coming with you any more". I said dad we are not going any place. He repeated. " I am not going with you and run that moon shine." Now I knew how he made $200 a week durning the depression. It took him a year to recover and I never mentioned that conversation. Somethings are better left alone.

 

[rmrdaddy]

It's funny that I gravitated into hats, as this is a story that I remember to some degree from my uncle. Apparently as a younger man he worked at the Stetson Store in Philadelphia, I'm assuming it was the big one that on Market Street. He must have been a pretty good employee, as he described being left alone to run the store at some points. One day, a very well dressed gent came in, and I gather this was in the mid to late 30's timeframe, and he eyed up what must have been a special editon Stetson of some flavor that was in the shop window, which my uncle had been instructed was for display only, and not for sale at any price. This gentleman, my uncle assumed, was involved in organized crime due to his dress and manner. I'm not claiming that my uncle was threatened, but this gent left a large amount of cash with my uncle, and did indeed leave with the hat. He got some heat from the higher ups when they discovered his "big sale"! I wish my Uncle Dick was still with us to get the straight dope!