Professional Documents
Culture Documents
May
Overlord of man of 26, with dark hair, a complexion remarkable for its smooth
Narcotics pallor – as if it never had to worry about razors – white, skillful
hands, and amazingly vital, sparkling, dark brown eyes
A Collection of ● The Rothstein eyes were features above all others that those who
Pupils met him recalled most faithfully – those laughing, brilliant,
restless eyes glowing in the pale but expressive face
Last Hours of Mr. ● He prided himself inordinately on his ability to read character
Big ● In gambling, those who lost to him insisted that it was not skill,
but good luck that won for Arnold Rothstein
Bibliography
See Crime
Library Stories
on:
Charles Becker
Genovese Family
Meyer Lansky
"Lucky" Luciano
Murder Inc.
Dutch Schultz
In His Brother's Arnold Rothstein, unlike many of the underworld figures who would
Shadow make a name for themselves in America during the 1920s, was actually
born in the United States. In a brownstone on East 47th Street in
Career and Manhattan, Arnold was born in 1882, the second of five children. Shortly
Marriage after his birth the family moved to a larger home on East 79th Street.
Pool Games and Arnold, whose parents Abraham and Esther were brought together in an
Marks arranged marriage, was considered different from his siblings at an early
age. He was not a happy child or outgoing like the others. Arnold spent
"Beansy" and many hours alone in cellars and closets choosing dark places in which to
Becker play. At the age of three he had already taken a disliking to his older
brother Harry. One night Abraham entered the boy’s bedroom to find
New "Man Arnold standing over Harry with a knife in his hand. When the father
Between" pleaded for an explanation. Arnold simply replied, “I hate Harry.”
Legendary Feats “You hate me,” cried Arnold. “She hates me and you hate me, but you all
love Harry. Nobody loves me.”
Nicky Arnstein
It was the only time Rothstein had shown any deep emotion during his
Bucket Shops childhood.
and Lawyers
Arnold continued to live in Harry’s shadow lacking an identity of his
Organizing Crime own. He fell two years behind in grade school and found himself a
classmate of his younger brother Edgar. This didn’t seem to bother
Arnold who from this point kept up with his classes. Edgar would later
Overlord of recall, “I’d do all the homework and Arnold would copy it and remember
Narcotics it. Except in arithmetic. Arnold did all the arithmetic. He loved to play
with numbers.”
A Collection of
Pupils When Harry Rothstein was thirteen he informed his parents that he
wanted to study to become a rabbi. This decision delighted Abraham.
Last Hours of Mr.
Arnold, who had shunned his religious studies even more than his regular
Big
schooling, was chided by his father, “You should be proud of being a
Jew.”
Bibliography
Years later Rothstein would tell his wife Carolyn, “Somehow, I had the
feeling that I was responsible for Harry being dead. I remembered all the
times that I wished he were dead, all the times I had dreamed of killing
him. I got to thinking that maybe my wishing had finally killed him.”
In His Brother's After the death of his brother Harry, Arnold made a serious attempt at
Shadow mending the relationship with his father. He moved back home, worked
at his father’s factory, stayed away from the poolrooms and even attended
Career and the synagogue. Arnold’s efforts failed. After an argument he left home
Marriage again feeling that he was unloved and unwanted. He would never spend
another night in his parents’ house.
Pool Games and
Marks Rothstein’s new home was the Broadway Central Hotel and his new
profession was that of a cigar salesman, which kept him in close contact
"Beansy" and with gambling houses, hotels and saloons. His favorite hangout became a
Becker poolroom owned by John J. McGraw, the manager of the New York
Giants baseball team. Here Rothstein honed his talents as a pool player
New "Man and gained the reputation of being one of the best on Broadway.
Between"
During this period, the first decade of the twentieth century, Rothstein
Was Arnold the
began working on his bankroll. He believed that by carrying a large sum
Shooter
of money, and flashing it, that it helped gauge his prominence. “Money
talks,” Rothstein told a reporter. “The more money the louder it talks.”
Bookmaking and
Casinos
In Leo Katcher’s fine biography of Rothstein, The Big Bank Roll, the
Legendary Feats author discusses Rothstein’s work philosophy:
Nicky Arnstein “The cigar salesman made a good living. He lived frugally, did not
dissipate. Each week the roll in his pocket grew a little thicker. He knew
Bucket Shops he could never attain his ultimate aim by simple economies, but these
and Lawyers could start him on his way. He didn’t like long range projects. He was
essentially a short-term, quick-turnover man.
Organizing Crime
“Rothstein pursued a fixed course. He worked at selling cigars until he
accumulated $2,000. He decided that this was sufficient to base an entry
By the Same Rothstein was cautious not to over expose himself in bets. He found that
Author
the secret of winning was simply to have a large enough bank roll to be
able to lose one more bet than anyone else could afford to lose. Rothstein
Home continued to prosper from his gambling endeavors and he was still
lending money at exorbitant interest rates. He began to invest his income
in legitimate businesses as a silent partner. He became part owner of an
See Crime automobile dealership and several drug stores.
Library Stories
on:
By 1906 his bankroll had grown from $2,000 to $12,000. To flash his roll
Charles Becker
served as a sign of his ability and success and earned him respect in his
chosen field. In 1907, he met his future wife Carolyn Greene, a 19 year-
old actress. He once took her to dinner and spread his money out over the
Genovese Family
table. “This is going to make me important,” he told her. “I know how
much money means. I’m going to have more and more of it. Nothing is
Meyer Lansky
going to stop me.”
"Lucky" Luciano
Rothstein had selected his wife very carefully. Not a womanizer, he had
Carolyn checked out thoroughly before presenting her to his family. At
Murder Inc. an uncomfortable meeting in his parent’s home, Abraham questioned his
daughter-in-law to be.
Dutch Schultz
“Are you Jewish, Miss Greene?” he inquired.
“But you will change your religion if you and Arnold should marry, will
you not?” Abraham asked.
“If he marries outside his faith, he will be lost to me,” said Abraham.
Rothstein left his parent’s house for yet another time with a feeling of
being unloved. His father’s wishes had no effect on his plans to wed
Carolyn. On August 12, 1909 Rothstein and Greene were married in
Saratoga, New York during the heart of horse racing season.
Newspaperman Herbert Bayard Swope was Rothstein’s best man.
Rothstein’s parents did not attend. When word of the wedding reached
Abraham, he reacted by donning a prayer shawl and reciting the Kaddish,
the Jewish prayer for the dead, for the second of his sons.
In His Brother's Rothstein had promised Carolyn that after he made a lot of money he
Shadow would retire from being a gambler. Rothstein was comfortable discussing
his philosophy of gambling with his wife, but never the actual mechanics,
Career and and certainly not the people he interacted with. At Saratoga he pawned all
Marriage of the expensive jewelry he had given Carolyn to obtain cash. This was
more lucrative than borrowing the money at a higher interest rate. By the
Pool Games and end of the honeymoon, which coincidentally coincided with the end of
Marks race season at Saratoga, Rothstein had won $12,000 and got Carolyn’s
jewelry out of hock.
"Beansy" and
Becker Returning to New York, Rothstein decided to open his own gambling
house. He rented two brownstones on West 46th Street and he and
New "Man Carolyn took up residence in one, while the other was outfitted with
Between" roulette wheels, faro and poker tables. Rothstein then went to “Big Tim”
Sullivan to discuss “protection.” Sullivan, an Irishman who believed in
Was Arnold the marriage and large families, was delighted that his protégé had wed. His
Shooter wedding gift to Rothstein was protection, but with a string attached;
Rothstein had to take on William Shea, a deposed building inspector, as
Bookmaking and
his partner.
Casinos
Gates wrote a check for the amount and accompanied William Shea to
Genovese Family
the bank the following morning to cash it. By evening Shea had not
returned with the money. Soon Shea sent word that he was keeping the
Meyer Lansky entire $40,000 because he felt he had been cheated by Rothstein in the
past. After consulting with Sullivan, Rothstein told “Big Tim” that he was
"Lucky" Luciano going to let Shea keep the money, of which one third he was entitled to
anyway, but that he had to sign a contract releasing him from the
Murder Inc. partnership. When Rothstein caught up with him, Shea was drunk and
readily signed the papers thinking he had pulled a fast one on his
Dutch Schultz “sheenie” partner. After Shea sobered up and realized the blunder he had
made he went crawling to Sullivan for help.
would have any trouble collecting the money. Carolyn urged that if he did
collect, that he keep his promise to her and retire from gambling. When
morning arrived, Rothstein took a cab to the offices of the American
Tobacco Company and collected a certified check for a quarter of a
million dollars. Carolyn, however, did not collect on the promise made to
her.
Bucket Shops
Long before Sullivan met his maker, two men were trying to muscle in on
and Lawyers
his control of local gambling. One was Tammany Hall politician Thomas
Foley, the other was Captain Becker. The rise and fall of Charles Becker
Organizing Crime would be a short, but spectacular one. However, his brief time in the
limelight would be the subject matter of no less than three books.
Overlord of Herman “Beansy” Rosenthal got involved in gambling around the same
Narcotics time Rothstein did. Despite the backing of Sullivan, Rosenthal’s
operations were always a failure. He was not a particularly bright
A Collection of individual. With “Big Tim” in fading health, Becker decided to make his
Pupils move on Rosenthal’s latest operation – the Hesper Club. Becker ordered
Jack Zelig to collect protection payments. Rosenthal refused to pay and
Last Hours of Mr. went to Florrie Sullivan, Tim’s brother, for advice. When Florrie
Big suggested that Rosenthal hire some muscle of his own, “Beansy” sought
out an ex-lieutenant of Monk Eastman, Bridgie Webber. No sooner had
Bibliography the alliance formed than word got back to Becker. Zelig and his gang
invaded Webber’s clubhouse and destroyed it, nearly beating Bridgie to
The Author death in the process.
By the Same
Florrie Sullivan’s next piece of advice was for Rosenthal to give in,
Author which he did by making Becker a partner in the Hesper Club. The
partnership was not an amicable one and Rosenthal let it be known – to
Home
almost everyone – that when “Big Tim” regained his health the matter
would be straightened out. When Becker’s order for Rosenthal to keep
See Crime his mouth shut went unheeded, the captain had the Hesper Club raided
Library Stories and “Beansy” was arrested and fined.
on:
Shortly thereafter a Becker associate was charged with murder. Becker
Charles Becker sent word to all the gamblers under his protection to fork over $500 for
the defense fund. When Rosenthal refused, Becker ordered his thugs to
Genovese Family administer a vicious beating to him. Rosenthal went to Tom Foley for
help only to be rebuffed. Turning to Rothstein, Rosenthal was advised
Meyer Lansky that he was fighting a losing battle. Rosenthal then turned to alcohol.
With his tongue loosened by the liquor he told his story to Rothstein’s
"Lucky" Luciano friend, newspaper reporter Herbert Bayard Swope.
Murder Inc. This information soon got to the district attorney and eventually back to
Becker. It was Rosenthal’s plan to just scare Becker; he didn’t plan to
Dutch Schultz testify against him. He told Rothstein, “They can’t make me say what I
don’t want to say.”
Becker then got word to Zelig, who at the time was in jail, to put together
a hit squad to kill Rosenthal. Zelig got out of jail and was given $2,000 to
hire a team of killers to silence “Beansy.” After being threatened in a
restaurant in front of his wife, Rosenthal finally realized the grave
situation he was in. He went back to Rothstein to take him up on his
offer.
“You waited too long,” Rothstein informed him. “You’re not worth $500
to anyone anymore, Beansy.”
On July 15, 1912 the four assassins hired by Zelig shot Rosenthal to
death outside the Metropole Hotel. In just two weeks time all four
gunmen were behind bars. They quickly ratted out Zelig as the man who
hired them. Zelig was apprehended and turned government witness
implicating Captain Becker, who was arrested on July 29. The trial of the
four assassins was scheduled to begin on October 6, 1912. The day
before, Zelig was murdered as he boarded a streetcar. Despite the loss of
the state’s star witness the four men were convicted of first degree
murder and died in the Sing Sing electric chair on April 13, 1914.
Becker was then tried in a highly publicized trial and found guilty. While
his appeals were pending, Becker was desperately seeking help from
Tammany Hall. Katcher informs us:
“Other forces, even more powerful, and other men, however, were no
longer interested in Becker. His usefulness to them was over. They knew
that changing times had caught up with The System, that it was now
necessary to divorce the police department from direct control of vice
and graft.
“It was not that The System was obsolete, but that this one part of it was.
It was an essential part, so a substitute had to be found for it. A new kind
of bag man, a new ‘man between,’ was necessary.”
In His Brother's With Sullivan in the grave and Becker soon to be executed, Rothstein’s
Shadow new protection came from an even higher source – Tammany Hall boss
Charles F. Murphy and his closest advisor, Tom Foley. The year 1913
Career and was a watershed year for Rothstein – the year he would move to the top.
Marriage This all came about due to his relationship with Murphy. The politician
used Rothstein as the “man between” Tammany Hall and the underworld.
Pool Games and
Marks In 1910, as a favor to Foley, Rothstein bailed a confidence man out of
jail. In doing so, he realized the high premiums that could be charged for
"Beansy" and this service and he went into the bonding business for himself. Rothstein
Becker began to work with reputable bonding and surety companies, paying them
a lower interest rate for the money he borrowed than he charged for his
New "Man own services. The risk he faced was potentially larger if a client decided
Between" to skip bond, but when jailed men were asked to give their word to appear
at trial and were told, “God help you if you don’t,” Rothstein had few
Was Arnold the problems.
Shooter
Bucket Shops “Lawyers, fixers, people in trouble, sought him out. He was a pipeline to
and Lawyers ‘Fourteenth Street’ (location of Tammany Hall). If you wanted a favor
from the Hall, Arnold Rothstein could expedite it, assure it, for you. And
Organizing Crime so you paid him.”
Rothstein took cash for everything he did. Soon he and Carolyn moved to
Overlord of an apartment at the corner of Broadway and 52nd Street. Their new home
Narcotics had eight rooms and two baths, as well as separate quarters for a butler
and a maid.
A Collection of
Pupils
Bibliography
The Author
By the Same
Author
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Genovese Family
Meyer Lansky
"Lucky" Luciano
Murder Inc.
Dutch Schultz
In His Brother's During the early morning hours of May 16, 1917 Rothstein was enjoying
Shadow one of his favorite pastimes – rolling dice in a floating crap game. The
game was being held in a second floor suite at the Hotel St. Francis on
Career and West 47th Street. Rothstein, who was sponsoring the game, made sure all
Marriage the proper hotel employees were tipped handsomely to make sure the
game was not bothered. Around 3:00 a.m. five gunmen entered the hotel
Pool Games and lobby after being informed by an accomplice who was participating at the
Marks dice tables. While two of the men stayed downstairs, the other three went
up to the room and used the elevator boy, who doubled as an errand
"Beansy" and runner for the gambler, to get inside.
Becker
Rothstein knew most of the players in the room. In addition to
New "Man professional gamblers the group included stockbrokers, doctors, actors,
Between" attorneys and businessmen. One man that stood out to Rothstein was a
two-bit gambler who had the distinction of being present at several games
Was Arnold the that had recently been held up. As the masked gunmen entered the room
Shooter Rothstein’s first reaction was to drop his bankroll, estimated to be
$60,000, to the floor and kick it under a rug. His next response was to
Bookmaking and
keep his eyes on the inside accomplice, who had seen Rothstein drop the
Casinos
money, throughout the whole ordeal.
Legendary Feats
When the robbers searched Rothstein and found just $2,600 in his watch
pocket they angrily removed a diamond stickpin he was wearing.
Nicky Arnstein
Bucket Shops “I’ll send you the pawn ticket, AR,” the gunman said.
and Lawyers
“Don’t bother,” Rothstein replied. “I’ll have it back before the mail
Organizing Crime carriers arrive tomorrow morning.”
Rothstein never took his eyes off the man he suspected of conspiring
Overlord of with the robbers. When the gunmen left, he bent down and picked up the
Narcotics hidden wad of cash. As Rothstein had vowed he had his stickpin back the
following morning. As he discussed the robbery with his friend Swope,
A Collection of the newspaperman poked fun at the gambler and told him the police were
Pupils already aware of what took place and that they considered Rothstein “too
yellow” to talk to them. Telling Rothstein, “They’re laughing at you,
Last Hours of Mr. Arnold. The word is out that you’re buffaloed,” Swope finally got the
Big gambler’s goat. Rothstein went to the police station and identified two of
the robbers from mug shots.
Bibliography
On August 22, 1917 Rothstein appeared in court and testified against the
The Author
two gunmen. Based on his testimony the two men were convicted and
sentenced to Sing Sing. One of the men, Albert Johnson, cursed Rothstein
By the Same
and vowed to get him. Two months later Johnson escaped, but not before
Author
telling a cellmate that he planned to kill Rothstein. The police notified
Rothstein of the escape. Although his friends advised him to leave town
Home
until Johnson was captured. Rothstein refused claiming it would make
him look scared and that it would tarnish his fearless reputation. Despite
See Crime the iron façade, Carolyn later revealed that he was afraid. Weeks after the
Library Stories escape a New York police officer informed Rothstein that Albert Johnson
on: was killed by a security guard in Detroit while trying to rob a bank.
Charles Becker
Less than two years later Rothstein was a participant in another floating
crap game, this time on West 57th Street. The police were tipped off to
Genovese Family
the game and a raiding party showed up. One of the officers pounded on
the door and shouted, “Open up, before we bust in.” The raiding party
Meyer Lansky was dispersed by a volley of bullets that crashed through the door.
Miraculously the gunfire caused only three minor flesh wounds.
"Lucky" Luciano
The officers cried out, “This isn’t a stickup, it’s the police.”
Murder Inc.
The door was quickly unlocked and the angry raiders entered and arrested
Dutch Schultz 20 men including Abe Attell, a Rothstein bodyguard and former
featherweight boxing champion. The men were searched, but no gun was
found. A patrol wagon was summoned and the men were escorted to it.
As the gamblers were being loaded on, a bystander watching the
procession pointed out to one of the officers a figure hiding on the second
floor fire escape.
After the wagon took off, two officers re-entered the building and
climbed out on the fire escape where they discovered Rothstein hiding
with a revolver. Rothstein then drove the wounded officers to the
hospital, where their wounds were attended to, and then back to the
station house where he was booked on an assault charge. Rothstein then
provided bail money for all the gamblers who had been arrested.
Despite the fact the police officers admitted they had made a mistake by
not properly identifying themselves, an overzealous inspector, Dominic
Henry, with the help of an assistant United States attorney, pushed for an
indictment and received one on June 5, 1919. When the case was called
Rothstein’s attorney requested a dismissal, which the judge readily
agreed to. Later, one of the newspapers hinted that Rothstein had paid
$32,000 to get the case quashed.
In His Brother's “Man reported shot in Park Central Hotel, Seventh Avenue and 56th
Shadow Street. Ambulance dispatched.”
Career and That was the message recorded at 10:53 p.m. on Sunday, November 4,
Marriage 1928 by a desk sergeant in Manhattan’s West 47th Street station. By
midnight, the information had been updated to show that Arnold
Pool Games and Rothstein, 46 years old of 912 Fifth Avenue had been shot in the
Marks abdomen and found near the employee’s entrance of the Park Central
Hotel.
"Beansy" and
Becker Earlier that evening, Rothstein arrived at Lindy’s restaurant on Seventh
Avenue and went to his private booth. Lindy’s was Rothstein’s office. He
New "Man
kept a regular schedule there and several men were already waiting to see
Between"
him when he walked in that night. One of the men, Jimmy Meehan, ran
the Park City Club, one of the city’s biggest gambling dens during the
Was Arnold the
1920s. Meehan operated the plush club with a bankroll supplied by
Shooter
Rothstein.
Bookmaking and
Casinos
About 10:15, Rothstein received a telephone call. After a short
conversation he hung up and motioned for Meehan to walk outside with
Legendary Feats him. “McManus wants to see me at the Park Central,” Rothstein said. He
then pulled a gun out of his pocket and handed it to Meehan saying,
Nicky Arnstein “Keep this for me, I will be right back.” Meehan then watched Rothstein
walk up Seventh Avenue.
Bucket Shops
and Lawyers The man who had requested Rothstein’s presence at the hotel was George
McManus. A bookmaker and gambler, McManus was well connected in
Organizing Crime the city with one brother serving on the police force and another serving
as a priest. Several weeks earlier, McManus had hosted a high-stakes
poker game in which Rothstein had participated. The game began on
Overlord of September 8th and continued into the morning of September 10th. Other
Narcotics players participating in the game were West Coast gambler Nate
Raymond, Alvin “Titanic” Thompson, and Joe Bernstein. By the end of
A Collection of the marathon card game, Rothstein was a big loser. He owed Raymond
Pupils $219,000, Bernstein $73,000, and Thompson $30,000. When Rothstein
walked out, without so much as signing an IOU, a couple of the players
Last Hours of Mr. became irritated. McManus assured the pair, “That’s A. R. Hell, he’s
Big good for it. He’ll be calling you in a couple of days.”
Bibliography A week passed and Rothstein had still not made good. Rumors began to
circulate that the game was crooked. Rothstein confided to Nicky
The Author Arnstein, who by now was out of prison and back in New York, “A
couple of people told me that the game was rigged.” Arnstein’s advice to
By the Same
Rothstein was to pay the players off, “no point to your advertising you
Author
were a sucker.”
Home
Rothstein held off paying his debt though, hoping to make the gamblers
sweat and maybe take a lesser payoff. The players however were
See Crime beginning to pressure McManus since he was the host and had promised
Library Stories them that Rothstein would make good. McManus sought help from his
on: friend Jimmy Hines of Tammany Hall. Hines, who was also a friend of
Rothstein, began to pressure him to clear up the matter.
Charles Becker
As the weeks passed, the pressure began to get to McManus who began
Genovese Family
drinking and threatened Rothstein for not making good on the debts. On
Sunday night November 4, McManus called Rothstein from room 349 in
Meyer Lansky the Park Central Hotel where he was registered as George Richards. He
requested that Rothstein come over right away.
"Lucky" Luciano
The conversation and events that took place after Rothstein arrived are
Murder Inc. still a mystery. Shortly after Rothstein entered room 349, he was shot
once in the lower abdomen. The revolver was then tossed out the window
Dutch Schultz where it bounced off the hood of a parked taxi and landed in the street.
Employees later found Rothstein walking down the service stairs, holding
his stomach and asking for a cab to take him home.
Rothstein’s two brothers, Jack and Edgar, were summoned to the hospital
along with Carolyn. Rothstein was given a blood transfusion and
Rothstein had bet heavily on the election that year. Had he lived, he
would have collected $570,000. His death negated the wagers. In the
Jewish tradition, Rothstein was buried the following day in Union Field
Cemetery in Queens. Inside the closed casket he was dressed in a white
skullcap with a purple-striped prayer shawl over a muslin shroud.
The organizer of organized crime was gone. In the end Lucky Luciano,
Meyer Lansky, Frank Costello and Lepke Buchalter took over the
But not even a city as big as New York could absorb this tidal wave of
people into its work force. Many immigrants were forced to take the most
menial jobs for the lowest pay. In doing so, they gave birth to two new
socio-economic classes: the working poor and the unemployed. Street
gangs began to appear among the vast tenements on the Lower East Side
of Manhattan. They were made up of local thugs and street toughs who
came to exert their influence far beyond their own neighborhoods. They
were the forerunners of organized crime families that would dominate the
city in the decades to come.
Crime in the streets was only one side of the coin. The notorious
Tammany Hall era was the other, and it was in full swing. Political
corruption was not only tolerated, it had become a part of the fabric of
New York life, especially in The Tenderloin District. Like the cut of beef,
The Tenderloin was supposed to be the best part of Manhattan. It had
glittering lights, theatres, saloons, dance halls, famous restaurants, hotels,
newly erected skyscrapers and gambling casinos. Its narrow streets were
clogged with a strange mixture of horse-drawn carts and smoky, motor-
driven carriages.
The Tenderloin, the area now known as Times Square, which is centered
at 42nd Street and Broadway, had hundreds of gambling casinos and was
under siege by a virtual army of prostitutes. Some estimates put the
number of streetwalkers as high as 30,000. Since prostitution and
gambling were illegal, it was common practice for pimps and casino
owners to seek protection from prosecution by paying off the Police
Department. The police, in turn, colluded openly with politicians at City
Hall. The casino owners who refused to pay were promptly raided and
put out of business. Public corruption was nothing new to New York. It
had been going on for decades, interrupted now and then when an
outraged citizenry called for reform. Under Tammany Hall, though,
corruption reached its apex. From the lowly cop on the street to the
highest echelons of City Hall itself, money talked. No city permit could
be secured, no building could start and no business could open unless the
right person received his payoff. Graft permeated every level of the
bureaucratic structure. And at its foundation was the New York City
Police Department, rotten to its core.
Into this jungle of graft, Charles Becker entered center stage. Originally
from Sullivan County in upstate New York, he grew tired of country life
and moved to the big city in 1888. Tall and handsome, Becker was a
powerfully built man with huge shoulders. He got his first job as a
bartender on the Bowery, but soon graduated to bouncer, earning a
reputation as a fearsome fighter. There Becker made his first contact with
the underworld when he met Monk Eastman, a deranged killer who ruled
a vicious gang of murderers and outlaws.
Monk’s trademark was a sawed-off baseball bat that he used on the skulls
of his adversaries. Through this friendship, Becker met other criminals,
including several politicians. One of these was Big Tim Sullivan, a state
senator, who was regarded as the King of the Tenderloin and the overseer
of all graft and bribery in Manhattan. Sullivan took a liking to Becker,
and in 1893, arranged for Becker’s entry into the Police Department.
The Tenderloin, plunging him into the depths of the corruption cesspool.
Soon the operation became too big for Becker to handle alone. He hired
Big Jack Zelig, a known murderer who took over part of the Monk
Eastman gang after unknown killers gunned down Eastman outside a
Manhattan bar. Zelig used his boys to make the collection rounds. One of
them was Harry “Gyp the Blood” Horowitz. His specialty was to place
the recalcitrant in his lap and break the man’s back, a lesson he often put
on display in East Side saloons. Gyp the Blood frequented these clubs
with his sidekicks, Lefty Louie, Dago Frank and Whitey Lewis. Together
they had little trouble enforcing Becker’s rules over the Broadway
gambling dens.
Becker’s undoing was set in motion in the summer of 1912 when a low-
level gambler named Hertman “Beansie” Rosenthal was given permission
by State Sen. Big Tim Sullivan to open a new casino at 104 W. 45th St
named the Hesper Club. On opening night, Becker called on Rosenthal to
lay down the groundwork for future payoffs. Rosenthal balked, telling
Becker that this was Big Tim Sullivan’s territory and no payments would
be made to Zelig’s men. Becker relented for a while. But when Sullivan
became gravely ill and unable to run the show any longer, Becker swiftly
reasserted himself. Rosenthal still refused to pay. Becker then sent Bald
Jack Rose, a well-known gangster, who had already killed several men, to
station himself inside the club and skim off 20 percent of the casino’s
take. Instead of cowering to Bald Jack Rose, as Becker had assumed,
Rosenthal began to complain loudly to Tammany Hall politicians, saying
he would not stand for such shoddy treatment at the hands of a renegade
cop.
On the night of July 15, 1912, Rosenthal went to the District Attorney’s
office to meet with Whitman. Whitman was elated that an underworld
figure had at last come forward. He knew what Rosenthal was telling him
about Becker was political dynamite. Whitman told Rosenthal he would
convene a Grand Jury to hear the case. After meeting with Whitman,
Rosenthal left the Criminal Courts building at 11 p.m. and headed to the
Cafe Metropole on W. 43rd St, a local hangout for gamblers. News of
Rosenthal’s meeting with the D.A. had already spread throughout the
Tenderloin. Newspaper in hand, Rosenthal walked into the Metropole,
took a seat alone in the back of the room and began to read. There was an
eerie silence; no one would talk to Rosenthal. A few minutes before 2
a.m., a waiter approached him.
“Over here Beansie!” one of them said. As he moved closer, four quick
shots rang out. Rosenthal collapsed to the sidewalk. One of the killers
strolled over to the body, aimed a pistol at Rosenthal’s head and fired one
shot into it. The gunmen then raced across the street to the getaway car,
jumped in and roared off down 43rd Street.
Several police walking a beat nearby heard the shots and began running
toward the scene from Broadway. The Metropole emptied out and a large
crowd began to form around the body. Within minutes, news of the
shooting swept through The Tenderloin. Thousands converged on the
The next day Whitman complained that the police had made a “pretense”
of pursuing the murderers, a charge The New York Times gave full play
the following morning in bold-type headlines on its front page: “Whitman
Points to the Police!” and “Insists It isn’t Gambler’s Work!” Two weeks
later, The Nation said: “The police with all their detective resources were
unable or unwilling to run down the criminals concerned in this
astounding assassination.”
Since it was common knowledge that Rosenthal was ratting on Lt. Becker
to the D.A. just hours before he was murdered, it was generally and
widely assumed that Becker was the killer. Conveniently for Becker,
however, he was home in bed at the time of the shooting, and alibi that
was later corroborated by a newspaperman who said he had telephoned
Becker’s home shortly after the murder and had spoken with Becker
about the murder.
During his own investigation, Whitman found that several witnesses had
noticed the license number of the getaway car. It was traced to Boulevard
Taxi Service at 2nd Avenue and 10th Street. Records there showed the
car had been leased to Bald Jack Rose, Becker’s collection man. The
actual driver was William Shapiro, a small-time hood with minor
connections to The Tenderloin underworld. Whitman also discovered that
Bridgey Webber and Harry Vallon, former opium dealers from
Chinatown, were seen hanging around the Metropole a few minutes
before the shooting and that it was Vallon who sent the message inside
the bar for Rosenthal. Based on this information, Webber and Vallon
were arrested.
Two days after being implicated in the killing, Bald Jack Rose
surrendered to the D.A. Through Rose, Whitman found out where
Shapiro was hiding. When he was jailed, Shapiro denied any complicity
in the killing. Whitman had to act fast. He knew the Police Department
would sabotage the investigation to protect one of its own, particularly a
powerful lieutenant such as Becker. In exchange for information, he gave
Rose, Webber, Vallon and Shapiro immunity. Shapiro then confessed. He
admitted that he drove the Packard that carried the killers to the
Metropole. He identified the men in the car with him as Louis “Lefty”
Rosenberg, Frank “Dago Frank” Cirofici, Jacob “Whitey Lewis”
Seidenschmer and Harry “Gyp the Blood” Horowitz. All were rounded
up by the police and thrown into The Tombs, Manhattan’s most dreadful
Home The next day, The New York Times headlines read: “Rosenthal Murder
Secrets Are Out! Becker Indicted, Arrested, Jailed!” Fuelled by an
hysterical press, the case became an international sensation. In its Aug. 1,
1912 issue, The Nation said: “Lt. Becker’s indictment for the murder of
Rosenthal at once lets in a flood of light upon the crime and is a terrible
blow to the Mayor, the Police Commissioner and the whole police
administration of New York City.”
Whitman was not alone in his dedication to nail Becker. Virtually every
newspaper in New York allied itself with the crusading D.A., who was
taking on the status of a mythical hero. The power of the press at that
time was formidable. Barely 15 years before, William Randolph Hearst,
who ran The New York Journal, and Joseph Pulitzer, owner of The New
York World, practically forced the United States into the Spanish
American War by using impassioned editorials and sensationalized
reporting to whip up public fervor for the war. Outside of the government
itself, no institution could claim such power. Throughout the entire
Becker affair, the press would play a pivotal role in the evolution of the
case.
With the New York press clamoring for action, Becker’s case was put on
the fastest of tracks. Slightly over two months after his arraignment,
On Oct. 12, 1912, Bald Jack Rose sat in the witness chair. Impeccably
dressed, and with his head shaved to ceramic smoothness, Rose
mesmerized the courtroom with a detailed account of Becker’s sinful ties
with the West Side underworld. He testified that Becker had said to him:
“He (Rosenthal) ought to be put off this earth. There is a fellow I would
like to have croaked! Have him murdered! Cut his throat, dynamite him
or anything!” and later: “There is no danger to anybody that has any hand
in the murder of Rosenthal. There can’t be anything happen to
anyone...and you know the feeling over at Police headquarters is so
strong that the man or men that croak him would have a medal pinned on
them!”
side of the story would never be told. McIntyre advised Becker against
taking the stand in his own defense to avoid his being cross-examined by
Whitman. McIntyre didn’t want Whitman to put on display to the jury a
brutal, wealthy police officer hopelessly entangled in a maze of graft and
corruption.
After nearly four days of instruction by Judge Goff, the case was given to
the jury. Becker told nearby reporters: “I have no fear of the outcome.”
By midnight the jury reached a verdict. The courtroom was packed.
Becker was brought to the bench. Goff turned to the jury.
“Guilty, your honor!” the jury foreman replied. The reporters jostled each
other to get to the exit doors. The courtroom erupted in confusion. The
headline in The New York Times the next morning was: “Blow crushes
him and his wife!”
Five days later, Becker appeared before Goff for sentencing. “...you are
hereby sentenced to the punishment of death...” the judge read. Becker
didn’t flinch. “The condemned man never lost his nerve for an instant
throughout the day” wrote the Times. Becker was sent to Sing Sing
prison on the banks of the Hudson to await execution on Dec. 12, 1912,
just six weeks after the sentencing. But the case was far from over, for if
Becker was anything, he was a fighter.
Following Becker’s trial, the prosecution put Gyp the Blood, Lefty
Rosenberg, Dago Frank and Whitey Lewis on trial for Rosenthal’s death.
The trial lasted seven days and was presided over by Judge Goff, who
displayed the same bias and iron-fisted rule as he did at Becker’s trial. All
four were sentenced to die. The press responded with a chorus of
approval. They said it was the beginning of the end for The Tenderloin
empire. The press hailed Whitman as a champion of justice, giving him a
prominence that left little doubt that he would be the next Governor of
New York.
Becker and his wife were elated. A new trial meant new hope. But there
was a cloud on the horizon. The same Court of Appeals rejected another
trial for the four gunmen. Their conviction would stand. It was a serious
problem for the defense. Thanks to the shameful reporting of the press,
Becker and the other convicted four killers had become part of the same
inseparable mold.
On the early morning of April 13, 1914, Dago Frank, Whitey Lewis,
Lefty Louie and Gyp the Blood had a last meeting with their loved ones.
The New York Times described it: “Hysterical Scenes At Visit of
Relatives--Young Wives Bid Condemned Farewell.” From his cell, Dago
Frank issued a final disturbing statement: “So far as I know, Becker had
nothing to do with the case. It was a gambler’s fight. I told some lies on
the stand to prove an alibi for the rest of the boys.” Then one by one, in a
grim procession of death, the four young men were taken to the execution
chamber. Despite a last minute sabotage of the electric chair by person
unknown, the sentence was carried out.
Becker’s new trial began on schedule. Bald Jack Rose, now a born-again
Christian and heavily in demand on the lecture circuit, was resurrected to
repeat his damning testimony. Bourke Cockran, a famous criminal,
handled the defense. The prosecuting attorney was once again Whitman,
whose future hinged even more on the outcome of this trial than the first.
On the bench sat Judge Samuel Seabury, who had a reputation of being
fair to both defense and prosecution.
The importance of the case had not diminished in the public’s eye. The
trial attracted even larger crowds than the first. Every day the courthouse
was surrounded by thousands of onlookers hoping they could get a seat
inside the courtroom.
On May 22, 1914, in the very first re-conviction in the city’s history,
Becker again was found guilty of murder. As before, he accepted the
verdict without reaction. The next day The New York Times said of
Becker: “Hears Verdict of Guilty For the Second Time With Iron
Composure!” He was sentenced to die on July 16, 1914, and was taken
back to Sing Sing. But again death would have to wait. More appeals
were filed and the execution was postponed. In November of that same
year, Whitman was elected Governor of the State of New York. By the
time the New Year rolled around, the case was limping along to its bitter
end.
Bald Jack Rose was barnstorming around the country playing the
criminal lecturer. Shapiro was in New Jersey and had started a farm. Gyp
the Blood and the others were all dead. Zelig had been murdered.
Whitman sat in the Governor’s chair and Becker, marooned in the
dungeons of Sing Sing, awaited his fate. The stage was now set for the
cruellest blow of all.
Becker had exhausted all the appeals that were possible and his death
seemed imminent. But there was still one way out. Under state law, a
death sentence may be commuted to life by a stroke of the Governor’s
pen. Ironically, the Governor in this case was also the former prosecutor.
Never before in American history had such a bizarre turn of events taken
place. How could Whitman decide on the issue when it was he who put
Becker on death row in the first place? Some of the press echoed this
sentiment. The New Republic on July 24, 1915 wrote: “...it seems a tragic
fate that his last hope of mercy should be considered by a man who has
the deepest personal grounds for showing him none… We don’t want to
take a life on the kind of evidence produced against Becker. We don’t
like to think that Whitman’s future depends upon Becker’s death.” It was
suggested that the appeal for clemency be turned over to the Lt. Governor
for review. But Whitman wouldn’t hear of it.
The execution had been reset for July 30, 1915. With only a few days left,
Becker’s supporters grew frantic. There were several organizations now
afoot to persuade the Governor to commute the sentence. Becker’s
defense attorney, Cockran, tried a last-ditch effort to bring the case before
the State (I assume) Supreme Court. It too failed. Thousands of letters
and telegrams poured into Whitman’s chambers urging clemency. In a
At 5:30 a.m. on July 30, 1915, Becker, dressed in black, his trousers slit
up the sides, walked down death row. While dozens of reporters watched,
he was hastily strapped into the electric chair. His last words were: “Into
thy hands O Lord, I commend my spirit!” At the signal, the switch was
thrown and almost 2,000 volts were sent into his body. But Becker was
strong, so much so that the voltage needed to kill him had been
misjudged. He was still alive. Another jolt ripped into him. Again it was
not enough. Workmen were called to adjust the straps. Witnesses were in
a near panic. Some fainted. The execution was becoming a nightmare.
The voltage was increased and mercifully, the third jolt finally killed him.
It had taken eight minutes, each one faithfully recorded by the newsmen
assigned to witness the execution. Lt. Charles Becker of the New York
City Police Department was dead.