485634

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CCJ29210.1177/1043986213485634Journal of Contemporary Criminal JusticeCorsino

Article
Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice
29(2) 256­–275
They Can’t Shoot Everyone: © 2013 SAGE Publications
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DOI: 10.1177/1043986213485634
Organized Crime in the ccj.sagepub.com

Chicago Outfit

Louis Corsino1

Abstract
Force and intimidation have always played a significant role in the success of the
Chicago Outfit. Yet, violence is a highly inefficient mechanism for running illegal
operations. A far more stable resource is social capital. This study examines these
social capital processes by focusing upon the Chicago Heights “boys,” a critical
component of the Chicago Outfit since the 1920s. Drawing upon interviews,
newspaper accounts, census materials, and FBI files, I attempt to demonstrate that
for the greater part of the 20th century, Italians in Chicago Heights experienced
an abiding social, economic, and political discrimination. This resulted in a social
and geographic isolation in Chicago Heights. This isolation inhibited the mobility of
Italians along traditional routes but created a store of social capital which Italians used
to organize labor unions, mutual aid societies, ethnic enterprises—and an organized
crime empire. Specifically, leaders in the Chicago Heights Outfit acquired a social
capital advantage because they could draw upon the closed networks in the Italian
community and, at the same time, envision a range of illegal opportunities because
they occupied a series of “structural holes.”

Keywords
Organized crime, social capital, Italians, Chicago Outfit, Chicago Heights

They can’t shoot everyone. At times they tried. In the following pages, I argue that the
success of the Chicago Outfit rested upon a collection of social capital resources. No
doubt, force and intimidation played a most significant role in this success; and the

1North Central College, USA

Corresponding Author:
Louis Corsino, Department of Sociology, North Central College, Naperville, IL 60540, USA.
Email: lcorsino@noctrl.edu
Corsino 257

strategic alignment of illicit products and services with the needs of customers, suppli-
ers, and competitors was also critical. Still, the ongoing, profit generating operation of
the Chicago Outfit cannot be fully understood by viewing Outfit members as simply
power wielders or rational exchange partners. Outfit members were also embedded in
a host of social relations and networks. The frequency, intensity, and quality of these
networks generated a bountiful supply of social capital and accompanying advantages
in running an efficient, albeit criminal organization. Unraveling the sources of this
social capital and the ways this social capital was employed to maintain “the mob” are
the central themes of this study.
At its height and over its nearly century-long history, the Chicago Outfit covered a
vast geographic area and had an extensive organizational structure—too dispersed, too
broad to discuss fully here. To bring greater focus, I will narrow this study in the fol-
lowing ways. First, I examine one long-standing organizational component of the
Chicago Outfit—namely, the Chicago Heights “boys.” From the “slot machine trusts”
in the early 1900s, to the takeover of the local stills by Al Capone in the 1920s and
1930s, to the prosecution of city officials for racketeering in the 1990s, organized
crime found in a home in the social and political structures of this suburb 30 miles
(48.28 km) south of Chicago. No less a figure than Eliot Ness cut his teeth in the crime
fighting field with an early exposure to the Chicago Heights bootlegger operation.
According to Ness, the Chicago Heights operation was “the pickup depot for most of
the illicit alcohol trade in the entire Middle West” (Ness, 1957, p. 61). Schoenberg
(1992) argued that in the 1920s, “conditions in Chicago Heights had become scandal-
ous beyond bearing, even in Cook County” (p. 232). And years later in 1991, Federal
Authorities in their prosecution of the Chicago Heights mayor and police chief for
extortion and racketeering described the Chicago Heights setting as an “unholy alli-
ance of mobsters, politicians, and police” (O’Brien, 1992, p. 6). Despite dramatic
changes in city demographics, politics, and economic fortunes, organized crime in
Chicago Heights has long presented itself as a topic for investigation.
Second, the investigation of the Chicago Heights “boys” will be narrowed further
with an examination of a particular type of social capital—that generated by ethnic ties
and associations. Social capital can spring from many types of structural locations—
social class, gender, voluntary groupings, and the like. And, at times, separating social
class from ethnic resources becomes nearly impossible. Still, ethnic ties have long
been viewed as having a particular affinity with organized crime enterprises. In par-
ticular, Italians have often been linked with organized crime in popular, academic, and
law enforcement circles. This is indeed the case in Chicago Heights where Italians
dominated the hierarchy and day-to-day illegal operations for the greater part of the
century. With this in mind, this study seeks to join a discussion of organized crime,
social capital, and Italians in an attempt to explain the ongoing success of the Chicago
Heights “boys.”
As suggested, Chicago Heights draws our interest because of the long history of
organized crime in the city. At the same time, Italians have constituted a sizeable per-
centage of city residents ever since the “second wave” of immigration ran its course in
the period from 1890 to 1924. Thus, in 1920 12.2% of the Heights’ 19,653 citizens
258 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

were “foreign born” Italians (U.S. Department of Commerce and Labor, 1920). In
subsequent years, quotas on immigration from southern Europe reduced these num-
bers. Still, as the sons and daughters of Italian immigrants started their own families
and as third-generation Italians began theirs, the presence of Chicago Heights citizens
with some Italian roots grew disproportionately. Candeloro (1981) estimated that by
1970 roughly 40% to 50% of the Chicago Heights population had these Italian roots
(p. 182).
The copresence and intermingling of organized crime and Italians in a specific
locale has spawned a number of attempts to explain this connection. Thus, the ties
between Italians and organized crime have historically been depicted, with notable
exceptions, as a consequence of genetic makeup, modal personalities, constituent sub-
cultures, or family legacy—i.e., something ingrained in the Italian or the Italian way
of life. As far back as 1888, a Chicago Tribune editorial argued for the existence of the
Mafia in Chicago because of the large number of Sicilians who lived in the city
(Schiavo, 1962). Such explanations obviously leave much to be desired. They lurch
awkwardly to overly broad characterizations of the Italian population and in the pro-
cess pull most all Italians into the “Mafia nest.”
These types of essentialist explanations could well be misapplied to the Chicago
Heights context. Some could argue, and some local residents did, that the mere pres-
ence of Italians in the community predisposed an outbreak of organized crime. Of
course, many Italians in Chicago Heights were far removed from these criminal ven-
tures, had no connection to the history of illegal liquor distribution, gambling, prosti-
tution, or racketeering. But having said this, it would also be inaccurate to suggest that
the Chicago Heights Outfit was the result of just a “few bad apples,” a collection of
wrongdoers who were marginalized from the bulk of the Italian population in Chicago
Heights. The social conditions and ties between the Chicago Heights “boys” and the
Italian ethnic community ran much deeper and were more binding than this. Organized
crime was embedded in the Chicago Heights community—in its Italian enclaves on
the “East Side” and the “Hill” sections of the city—in more than a parasitic manner.
Indeed, as Candeloro (1981) writes, “One observer has suggested that bootleggers
were major employers of runners, sugar buyers, and plumbers (to construct stills), and
that the industry brought a measure of prosperity to the community during the
Prohibition Years” (p. 204).
These social ties between members of the Chicago Heights Outfit and the larger
Italian community were forged by a number of forces. Many Italians camwq\+ e from
the same region and some from the same small towns in the southern parts of Italy.
Many had extensive family ties that spread throughout the community. But most
importantly most all found their connection to fellow Italians enhanced by the more
general processes of cultural, political, and economic discrimination against Italian
immigrants. These forces, on the one hand, distanced Italians from the more tradi-
tional ladders of success and in so doing made achievement more difficult. They cre-
ated or enhanced a sense of “shared destiny” for having been thrown into a common
situation and predicament (Portes, 1998). On the other hand, these discriminations
fostered a geographic and social isolation of Italians in Chicago Heights. In turn, this
Corsino 259

social isolation from the main stream society, or the “West Side” of the city, led to the
development of rich social capital resources that Italian residents could call upon to
promote their mobility aspirations. Some called upon these extensive social and per-
sonal ties to open up ethnic businesses such as grocery stores, some utilized these ties
to establish mutual aid or benefit societies, and others organized friends and associ-
ates to engage in union activities. And still others used these social resources to
achieve their mobility aspirations through the route of organized crime.

Discrimination, Social Isolation, and Social Capital

Diego Gambetta (1996), author of the widely praised The Sicilian Mafia, once asked
in another work, “Were they pushed or did they jump?” Gambetta was struggling with
the general human predicament regarding social forces and individual choice. No
doubt both processes are at work and no doubt situations vary in terms of the degree
of human agency. However, the central argument here is that Italians in Chicago
Heights were essentially pushed into a range of entrepreneurial mobilizations (e.g.,
mutual aid societies, ethnic businesses, labor organizing, and, most significantly, orga-
nized crime) by a limited, restrictive access to the traditional routes towards mobility.
While these Italians certainly contributed to their own isolation from these opportunity
structures, the larger cultural, political, and economic forces at work in Chicago
Heights played a most significant role.

Cultural Opprobrium
A distaste for Italians seemed to emerge fairly early in the history of Chicago Heights.
As immigration patterns previous to World War I led to a sizeable Italian presence in
the city, nativistic sentiments were increasingly directed at a range of Italian habits and
customs. These sentiments, often mixed with more positive personal relationships,
came from religious leaders, city officials, the local newspaper, business owners,
teachers, and school children. They affected the Italian assimilation into the dominant
American culture in a variety of institutional contexts.
Perhaps, the most far reaching effects of this cultural discrimination occurred in the
schools. Thus, it has been well documented elsewhere that southern Italians did not place
a high value on formal education for their children, especially for females. And this pat-
tern seems to have also been the case in Chicago Heights, for many parents restricted
their children’s education and many children quit school as soon as they were able.
However, these negative attitudes to schooling were no doubt influenced by the less than
positive reception many Italian children faced when they entered the alien, middle-class
world of the classroom. In these classrooms, students were graded not only on their aca-
demic performance, but also upon the difficult-to-master, middle-class standards of
“cleanliness, attentiveness, appearance, deportment, initiative, and general health”
(Devatenous, 1924, p. 31). In a setting in which there were no Italian teachers, adminis-
trators, or school board members, the lower class status and customs of the Italian chil-
dren became a significant criteria for sifting and sorting opportunities and mobility.
260 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

Not surprisingly, these traditional Italian customs became a source of embarrass-

ment to the students. As Dominic Pandolfi (Italian American Collection Records
[IACR], 1979), a long time Chicago Heights resident, suggests, “the teachers were
most concerned about these foreigners.” These concerns translated into a disparage-
ment of the Italian language, manner of dress, and foods. “For a long time,” Pandolfi
said, “we were embarrassed about it, eating squid, eel . . . and the kinds of stuff they
(our Italian parents) eat.” At times, this discrimination turned more overt. “After
school the teachers were very severe and very hostile towards Italians.” Other Italian
residents suggested that fellow students were often the worst source of disparagement
in the school. Nick Tieri (IACR, 1979) said, “When I left Garfield School to go to
Washington School, it was a bad situation . . . I was called all kinds of names. But with
English . . . You’re a dago, a ginny, wop and everything.” Another resident, Theresa
Giannetti (IACR, 1979), recalls, “When we went to school definitely there was a dis-
tinction between the kids from the east side, the hill and the west side . . . We were
dagos to them.”
Italians fared little better in the civic associations and social clubs of the Chicago
Heights community. The combination of Catholicism, foreign customs, and “rough-
neck” reputation resulted in the exclusion of Italians from many of the civic-commercial
organizations. At the same time, the local country clubs denied Italian membership,
though Italian youth were allowed to work as caddies. Even when Italians participated
in the myriad athletic and social clubs on the west side of town, cultural barriers set a
higher standard for acceptance or inclusion. “We were second class citizens without a
doubt,” said long time resident Nick Zaranti. “If you went out for athletics you had to
really work trying to make a team because they wouldn’t give you the playing time to
prove yourself” (IACR, 1979).
Chicago Heights Italians, then, felt the sting of this cultural opprobrium across
diverse settings. Yet, the most basic cultural discrimination was ecological. In the early
years Italians were simply not supposed to be in certain places. This ecological exclu-
sion sought to isolate Italians literally on “the other side of the tracks.” As Nick Zaranti
said, “The whole west part of town, starting from the railroad tracks, the CNI (sic)
railroad tracks moving west. We hit the downtown area and then beyond that you
couldn’t even go . . . cause they just wouldn’t allow you, think you would be stealing”
(IACR, 1979).

Political Alienation
To be sure, Italians in Chicago Heights contributed to their own cultural reproach. For
example, the “rough-neck” status of the Italian youth was well deserved. Yet, when we
turn to a discussion of power and politics, Italians seem to have less culpability in
terms of their political alienation from the mainstream political processes. Voting
totals in the predominately Italian sections of the city were often on a par or often or
not significantly below the totals for the west side of the city. Organizational leaders
in these Italian districts created a political machine that resulted in significant political
participation on the part of the Italian residents. As a result, during the first several
Corsino 261

decades of the century, Italian participation in local city government was extensive
(Candeloro, 1981). For example, in 1907, three out of the 10 aldermen in the city were
Italian.
This participation was a source of consternation to west side civic leaders. Thus, as
early as 1911 what the Chicago Heights Star termed “the better element of the city”
called for the establishment of a commission form of government, where commission-
ers would be elected at large rather than from particular wards. Though phrased in
terms of increased governmental efficiencies and reduced costs, there is little doubt
that this new form of government was also aimed at reducing the machine style poli-
tics found in the Italian wards of the city. The first attempt to establish this commission
form of government was defeated in 1915. However, agitation for this new govern-
mental form did not abate. In 1921, increased city corruption led to new efforts to raise
city government “from the slough of despond” into which it had fallen (“Call for
New,” 1921, p. 3). Opponents of this change argued that these reform efforts were
motivated by the attempt to prevent the “foreign and colored vote” from having a say
in local government affairs. This time, fueled by the increasing hostility to this “for-
eign element” after World War I, the “at large” referendum passed with 56% of the
vote.
The commission form of government proved a great success in attracting candi-
dates to run for political office. However, it was disastrous for Italian politicians in the
city. Previously, Italian representation in city government had generally exceeded their
proportion of the city population. Yet, from 1921 to 1941, Chicago Heights had only
two commissioners and no mayors of Italian descent. As Dominic Pandolfi lamented,”
It was very sad because politics was downtown, other than Italian” (IACR, 1979).
Paradoxically, as Chicago Heights become more Italian in terms of the proportion of
residents of Italian descent, the ethnic representative of Italians in city government
virtually ceased.

Economic Discrimination
During the early part of the 20th century, the dominant cultural and political processes
were heavily weighted against Italians in Chicago Heights. Routes to mobility were
blocked as a powerful and obstinate majority on the waspish, west side of town clashed
with a less powerful and no less obstinate minority of the east side of town. Italians,
though, lacked the cohesiveness and stability to mount a serious challenge to the “bal-
ance of power” in the community. At the same time, Italians were unwilling, at least in
the short run, to give up their cultural practices (from eating eels, to religious fests, to
“vino”) in the face of challenges posed by a nativistic and, often times, hostile culture.
Thus, for every taunt of “Wop” or “Dago,” Italians countered with a “mangia cakes”
(cake eaters) derision of the west-siders (Candeloro & Paul, 2004, p. 103).
Yet, in the economic realm, this bravado was missing. Unwilling to give up their
culture, many Italians gave up pieces of their health, dignity, and freedom by submit-
ting to the harshest of working conditions in the industrial plants and shop floors.
Seven-day work weeks, unsafe working conditions, despicable sanitary facilities were
262 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

Table 1. Occupational Ranking of Italian, Adult Males, Chicago Heights, 1910 and 1930,
Other Cities 1900-1915.

Occupational ChiHts, Pittsburgh, New York, Providence, Boston, ChiHts

Rank 1910a 1900b 1905c 1915d 1910e 1930f

High white collar 1% 0% 2% 5% 2% 6%
Low white collar 4% 2% 18% 13% 10% 10%
Skilled 8% 23% 22% 19% 23% 13%
Semiskilled 5% 3% 16% 23% na 13%
Unskilled 82% 72% 42% 37% 65% 58%
Total 100% 100% 100% 97% 100% 100%
Number 1,420 507 1,015 863 132 1,613

Sources:
a(The Chicago Heights data was derived from the Department of Commerce and Labor, Bureau of the

Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910 Population, Chicago Heights manuscripts.
b(see Bodnar, Simon, & Weber, 1983, p. 64).
c(see Kessner, 1977, p. 52).
d(see Perlmann, 1988, p. 86). The sample consisted of Italian immigrant fathers. And the percentages do

not total 100 percent because of rounding and the presence of an “Unknown” category.
e(see Thernstrom, 1973, 136). Thernstrom did not have an “Unskilled” category.
f (The Chicago Heights data was derived from Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, Fifteenth

Census of the United States: 1930 Population, Chicago Heights manuscripts.).

the common elements facing most Italian laborers. Hardly a week would pass without
a newspaper report of a worker being crushed by a falling crane, maimed by a metal
press, or scalded by molten led. One account of life inside a Chicago Heights factory
leaves little room for interpretation.

They worked under brutalizing conditions. Chicago Heights had steel mills, chemical
factories, foundries, dye factories, very dusty wood-working factories, etc. Every place was
a place of heat, grime, dirt, dust, stench, harsh glares, overtime, piecework, pollution, no
safety gadgets, sweat, etc. The workers were, as the Italians called them, “Bestie Da Soma,”
beasts of burden. Emphysema, stomach ailments, heart ailments were common (Candeloro
& Paul, 2004, p. 48).

The lot of the Italian worker then was filled with desperation. For many, the lack of
any definable skills put them in competition, and conflict, for the least desirable jobs—
from rag picker, to street peddler, to field hands in the nearby onion farms. Table 1
presents the distribution of jobs across the occupational structure for Italian, adult
males in Chicago Heights for 1910 and 1930.
This distribution is presented alongside comparable data for other, obviously larger,
industrial cities in the period from 1905 to 1915. The unmistakable conclusion is that
Italians consistently started at the bottom of the ladder. Though the patterns and waves
of Italian immigration differ somewhat from city to city, it is clear that Italians clump
Corsino 263

decidedly into the two last rungs of the occupational hierarchy—no city more so than
in Chicago Heights in 1910.
Of course, low occupational standing does not prima facie constitute evidence for
economic discrimination against Italians. The size of the immigrant population, the
institutional completeness of the ethnic community, and the cultural values of the
immigrant group are among the contributing factors to occupational mobility.
However, many of the Italian workers believed that such discrimination was present.
Chicago Heights resident, Nick Tieri (IACR, 1979), said, “When you went to apply for
a job as soon as you put down your name. What nationality are you? Italian? We have
no use for you . . . I’ve had that said to me several times.” Olivia Kowalski (nee
Massacci) (IACR, 1979) told a similar story, “I went to the Chicago College of
Commerce for 24 months. And when I sent out on interviews, and this is the truth, I
had the ability. And I remember one man saying, ‘Have you ever thought of changing
your name?’ He said, ‘You would have less trouble getting a job’.” Dominic Pandolfi
was a Chicago Heights resident who received his teacher certificate and MA from the
University of Chicago. When he initially applied for a teaching job at a Chicago
Heights elementary school, he was told not to apply by the district superintendent who
said bluntly “I don’t think they will accept you here” (IACR, 1979).
In short, a collection of cultural, political, and economic forces were at work in the
beginning of the 20th century, the effect of which was to erect a spatial barrier between
Chicago Heights Italians (as well as other immigrant groups) and the more established
residents of the city. Again, the raw census data may prove useful in documenting this
segregation. Of particular importance was the residential concentration of this Italian
population. Locating the residences of Chicago Heights Italians within the seven city
wards, we find that Wards 3, 4, and 5 (primarily, the East Side and the Hill areas) were
the primary locations for the vast majority of Italians, 89.7% in 1930.
More refined measures of residential segregation include the index of dissimilarity
and the isolation index. The former gives evidence of the degree to which minority and
majority groups in a city are evenly spread out in residential neighborhoods; the latter
measures the average probability based on residential location that a member of a
particular group will interact with another member of that group, in our case the prob-
abilities that an Italian living in Chicago Heights would interact with other Italians in
the city and thus be “isolated” from other residents. Both measures range between .000
and 1.00, the higher the coefficient in both cases, the greater degree of residential seg-
regation and isolation, respectively. Using the 1930 censuses and basing the calcula-
tions on city wards, I derived both indices for foreign stock Italians in Chicago Heights
over against Native Whites of Native Parentage (NWNP), this latter grouping a rough
approximation of the more established residents in the city or those farthest removed
historically from their immigrant roots. The indices suggest a substantial residential
separation. The index of dissimilarity was .775, with indices above .60 generally con-
sidered to be high; the isolation index was .460, with indices above .30 considered
high. Both indices place Chicago Heights Italians among the most segregated and
isolated of any Italian community when compared with Italian populations in other
American cities and among the most segregated of any ethnic community (Lieberson,
1963, Lieberson, 1980).
264 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

In the early part of the 20th century, then, Chicago Heights Italians were boxed into
a restrictive geographic and social space. Italian residents congregated in different
churches, attended different schools, worked in different industries, joined different
political and social clubs, and made different neighbors and friends than their west
side counterparts. More generally, this social isolation extracts a heavy cost for indi-
viduals in their pursuit of social mobility—exclusion from job networks, a restricted
geographic awareness and set of experiences, a linguistic isolation, a susceptibility to
prejudice and stereotypes—in short, a general and pervasive vulnerability to the social
and economic ills of a society (Massey & Denton, 1993). In recent years, the concept
of social capital has been used to draw the connection between these large scale social
processes and individual adaptations. Specifically, social isolation from mainstream
society disadvantages certain groups because it distances individuals from a set of
beneficial, informal social relations that could otherwise advance prospects for jobs,
housing choices, political power, or a variety of other social and economic goods. In
the Chicago Heights context, the opportunity for Italian residents to develop these
beneficial ties with West Side pastors, school teachers, middle class businessmen,
community leaders, or neighbors was made most difficult by the persistent patterns of
cultural, political, and economic discrimination.
Yet, if it was difficult to acquire this social capital in the mainstream of Chicago
Heights life, most Italian residents were nevertheless awash in these beneficial rela-
tions and networks within their own neighborhoods. The common lives of these
residents—whether this involved getting a job, buying a home, starting a family, deal-
ing with illness or death, providing for public safety—were approached as much as
community events as they were individual decisions. For example, building a home
was often a neighborhood project. “Friends gathered and spent what little spare time
they had to help build the home. The women got together and prepared meals for all
the workers” (Kondras, 1977, p. 14). Economic exchanges were often based upon
long-standing community ties rather than a cash nexus. As one Chicago Heights resi-
dent put it, shopkeepers at times “gave away the store” to needy customers in the
neighborhood by extending credit or simply not charging them the full price for mer-
chandise (Candeloro & Paul, 2004, p. 114). Along the same lines, Joe Nicastro said,
“My family use to deliver milk in the neighborhood. When things got real bad, my
mother use to say ‘Oh, don’t collect this time.’ She would just give it away.” And wed-
dings most always involved a complex exchange of money and social capital. Though
many residents did not have the resources to stage a wedding reception, neighborhood
residents would customarily contribute anything from live chickens for plucking, to
bottles of wine, to homemade cookies, and desserts for the feast. “It was a community
event,” Ida Marks said (Newquist, 1988, p. A2).

Social Capital, Organized Crime, and Italians

The Italians of Chicago Heights were a practical lot. Faced with the struggle to survive
in a disparaging cultural, political, and economic environment, this population drew
heavily upon their social capital resources to maintain or enhance their social standing.
Corsino 265

Ethnic enterprises (e.g., barber shops, grocery stores, neighborhood taverns) emerged
to service the Italian population. Mutual aid or benefit societies (e.g., the Dante Club,
Christopher Columbus Club, Marchegiani Society) developed to provide fellowship
and economic aid to the poor and unemployed. Labor unions and socialist inspired
cooperatives (e.g., the Co-operativa di consumo di Chicago Heights) organized fellow
Italian residents in the face of ongoing and persistent economic struggles. And along
side, and understandably overlapping with these nontraditional routes to success, we
also find the emergence of the Chicago Heights “boys”.
The history of organized crime in Chicago Heights roughly parallels the rise of
Chicago Heights as an industrial suburb. Indeed, as early as 1906, just several years
after incorporation as a city, political campaign debate was already centered upon
reform and the elimination of the “slot machine trust” in the immigrant wards. As this
immigrant population grew and as Prohibition presented new opportunities, these
more unstructured criminal activities gave way to a more consolidated set of illegal
operations. From Chicago, Johnny Torrio made an initial foray into the Heights when
he opened the Moonlight Café. Locally, Antonio Sanfilippo, an émigré from Sicily,
used his Sicilian ethnic alliances to set up a highly efficient moonshine operation.
Sanfilippo’s success enticed challenges and he paid for these challenges in 1924 when
he was found slumped in his car with four bullets in his head. Though no one was ever
charged with his murder, shortly thereafter Phil Piazza assumed control of the Chicago
Heights operation. The reign of Piazza was brief, for in what was to become a deadly
battle in which scores of gangland murders took place Piazza himself was gunned
down outside the Milano café in 1926. Again, Piazza’s murder went unsolved, though
by the end of the 1920s we find two men in control of the Chicago Heights illegal
operations—Domenic Roberto, an émigré from Sambiase, Italy and Jimmy Emery
(born Vincenzo Ammirato) an émigré from Cosenza, Italy. Along with their protégé,
Frank Laporte, and with the close ties and associations of the Torrio–Capone Outfit in
Chicago, this is the beginning of the Chicago Heights “boys.”
Determining more precisely which Chicago Heights Italians became part of this
criminal element is difficult. Of course, the secretive nature of organized crime did
not lend itself to membership lists or public disclosure. And over a 50-year span from
1920 to 1970, there was a good deal of personnel change in the group as people
moved away, were sent to prison, deported, or died of natural or unnatural causes. But
the bravado of the Chicago Heights crew works in our favor in this situation. Thus, it
was not uncommon for Outfit members to not only gather for celebrations and get-
togethers in the Heights but to publicize these gatherings. Most famously, Nick
Neroni, a labor leader with the Hod Carriers Local 5 union, would periodically hold
a picnic for Outfit leaders at his farm on the outskirts of the Hill area. In 1925, Neroni
put an announcement in the Chicago Heights Signal which stated that the “Bloom
Township Italian Republican Club” would have its picnic in July and participants
would include Phil Piazza, Dominic Roberto, Charles Costello, and Jimmy Emery
among others. Several years later, Neroni would again host a get-together. The exact
date and occasion for the picnic are unknown. However, Luzi’s exhaustive study of a
group picture taken at this get together places the photo sometime in 1927 and, most
266 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

importantly, Luzi argues that it represents a celebration of the end to the gang wars in
Chicago Heights and a symbol of the unification of the Chicago Heights Outfit.
Arguably, the picture freezes at one point in time the power syndicate of the Chicago
Heights Outfit or “the entire power structure of the Chicago Heights faction of the
Capone gang from the 1920s. . . the cornerstone of organized crime in Chicago
Heights”(Luzi, 2003, p. 3).
Again, thanks to Luzi’s research, we are able to identify with confidence all but one
of the 31 men pictured. These identifications reveal a mix of criminal histories and
legal entanglements for most all of the men. Besides the criminal machinations of
Frank Laporte, Dominic Roberto, and Jimmy Emery, we find: Giovanni Roberto, who
was Dominic’s brother and head of the slot machine operation in Chicago Heights for
decades; Joe Guzzino, who went on to become the man in charge of gambling in
Calumet City and who was implicated in the 1926 slaying of Sicilian gang leader, Jim
Lamberta; Nick Neroni who was the business agent for and the Outfit’s man inside the
Hod Carriers Local 5 Union; James Strangis, an alky runner for the local organization
who was eventually suspected of pilfering the bootleg liquor and was shot and set
ablaze in the stolen booze as a warning to others; Sam Laporte, a grocer and reported
bootlegger; Charlie Costello who was described as “long an outstanding figure in the
turbulent affairs of Chicago Heights” (“One Slain, 3 Shot,” 1938, p. 1); Tony Costello
who was arrested in a 1929 Federal raid in Chicago Heights and was grouped in a
category that the chief prosecutor labeled as “killers, bootleggers, and racketeers”
(“Chicago Heights Raided,” 1929, p. 1); Sam Costello, a close associate of Al Capone,
who was eventually killed in an infamous shooting in a Chicago Heights bakery; Nick
Costello who helped run the illegal alky business in Chicago Heights for years; Pete
Zeranti who became part owner and overseer of Outfit run businesses such as
Co-operative Music Company; George Zeranti, Curly Zeranti, and Nick DiGivoanni
who were arrested in the 1929 Federal raid in Chicago Heights (“Chicago Heights
raided,1929, p. 1.); Sam DiGiovanni who was the leader of the Sicilian operation in
Chicago Heights and had a hand in Outfit operations well into the 1950s; Sam Geraci
who was described as “an old-time prohibition bootlegger and hoodlum” (U.S.
Department of Justice, February 24, 1966, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 5). Joe Arrigo who
was hired by Chicago Outfit boss, Johnny Torrio, to run the Outfit’s first foray into
Chicago Heights, the Moonlight Café; John Perry who along with Jim Dipeso and Bill
Willis was indicted by a Federal grand jury in 1929 for operating a brewery and still in
Chicago Heights; Charlie Presto who owned a local tavern which had a notorious
reputation as an Outfit hang out; Tony Subolis who was the Outfit’s connection to the
Congress of Industrial Organization union workers in the Chicago Heights steel mills;
finally, Mike Roberto and John Nicastro who were involved in Outfit operations,
Roberto as a money collector for illegal slot machines, Nicastro, among other duties,
as a “bagman” transporting money from the Outfit to the since deported Dominic
Roberto in Italy.
This is a formidable collection of organized crime figures. Still we are left to con-
sider why this collection of Italian criminals was able to create a criminal organiza-
tion—specifically, why “the boys,” were able to dominate the local vice operations
Corsino 267

and maintain this dominance through the years, indeed over decades. In part, as we
saw above, Dominic Roberto, Jimmy Emery, and Frank Laporte were able to extract a
measure of authority based upon coercion or, more generally, hierarchical relations.
Yet, violence is an organizational pathology when it comes to running an organization.
It brings unwanted attention and grudging compliance rather than innovation or trust.
Another explanation for the Outfit’s viability involved market relations. In this view,
the Outfit’s success was less a result of domination per se but more a consequence of
a wide number of symmetrical exchanges which profited the criminal organization and
its customers, broadly conceived. Market relations, however, are inevitably embedded
in a network of interpersonal associations, or as Granovetter says simply, “(social)
relations are always present” (1985, p. 481). It is to these more robust social relations
and networks that we turn our attention. These social connections matter because they
provided Outfit members with an advantage in running an illegal slot machine opera-
tion, a gambling house, a prostitution ring, a strip joint. The advantage created by these
connections is what we mean by social capital.
These network ties, and accompanying social capital, can be separated themselves
along the lines of Burt’s critical formulation of brokerage and closure (Burt, 2005).
Brokerage refers to the structural position some people or organizations occupy
between different clusters of otherwise unconnected or marginally connected people
or groups. These “structural holes” provide a vision advantage—access to a wealth of
nonredundant, network resources in the form of diverse ideas, adaptive flexibility, or
strategic opportunities not generally available to the clusters “on opposite sides of the
hole” (Burt, 1997, p. 340). With these social capital resources in hand, one who stands
near the hole in a social structure is at a “higher risk of good ideas” (Burt, 2005, p. 59).
This probability of success, however, would be seriously compromised without the
social capital that accrues from closure. Standing in this structural hole is risky for
there is little of the built up trust and familiarity that more likely characterizes closed
networks. Without these mutually supportive ties and trusting relationships, uncer-
tainty increases and coordination and communication decreases. Or put another way,
the rich, detailed, and readily available information essential to the effective coordina-
tion and communication goes wanting. The vision advantage is dampened as the man-
agement task of bridging the structural hole becomes burdened with inefficiencies and
risks.
As such, Burt argues that the advantages of social capital are maximized when this
tension between brokerage and closure is resolved, when there is an effective trade-off
between the two. This is most likely to occur in “structurally autonomous” groups
(Burt, 2005, pp. 139-141) or groups where the extent of network closure is high and
select members of the group bridge the structural holes beyond their own network. In
such cases, brokerage provides access to diverse perspectives, information, and oppor-
tunities; closure to the most effective and efficient social mechanisms of trust and
control. As Burt (2005) argues, “Brokerage is about coordinating people between
whom it would be valuable, but risky, to trust. Closure is about making it safe to trust.
The key to creating value is to put the two together, building closure around valuable
bridge relations” (p. 97).
268 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

Guzzino
Arrigo
Dipeso Strangis,J
Geraci
Perry
Presto Piazza
Pulia Laporte,F
Subalus,T
Roberto,Ji
Wilchinski
Roberto,D

Roberto,Jo
Nicastro Zerante,S
Roberto,M Zerante,G

Costello,S
Laporte,S Emery
Zerante,P
Naroni

Costello,T
Angellotti Costello,N
Costello,C

Digiovanni,N
DiGiovanni, S

Figure 1. The “boys” of Chicago heights social networks.

“Putting the two together” was precisely why the “boys” of Chicago Heights were
so successful for such an extended period of time. In the case at hand, the presence of
closure among the Chicago Heights “boys” can reasonably be argued on a number of
grounds. First, the similarities in the personal and social positions of the men suggest
a common world view or outlook. Twenty-eight of the 30 men were Italian, indeed
with roots from southern Italy. This southern Italian heritage can be distilled even
further. Eight of the mean had strong ties to Sambiase, a tiny village in Calabria.
Another eight men were connected to Caccamo, Sicily. At the same time, a majority of
these men were unskilled workers, many employed initially as laborers in the local
steel mills. These common experiences do not automatically translate into strong ties,
let alone social capital effects. Broadly speaking, however, the literature on homophily
concludes unmistakably that “similarity breeds connection” (McPherson, Smith-
Lovin, & Cook, 2001, p. 415).
Second, and most consequential, the most self-evident indicator of closed networks
involves a more direct analysis of relational variables or more simply the ties between
the social actors. The assumption is that networks which have a collection of redun-
dant, overlapping ties will exhibit more closure, which means more trust, which means
more social capital. With these assumptions in hand, what evidence is there for such a
closed network among the Chicago Heights outfit members? Perhaps not at all surpris-
ing, the evidence for closure is considerable. Figure 1 details a range of friendship,
kinship, occupational, and residential ties among the 30 men. Some members were
Corsino 269

isolates and their position in the Outfit was more functional. Beyond these men, how-
ever, we find a tight knit collection of Outfit members bound together not simply by
their criminal interests but because they were variously brothers, cousins, in-laws,
sons, friends of one another. These social ties ran deep. As such, these men were able
to keep a watchful eye upon one another from various vantage points and, thereby,
decrease the “risks that would otherwise inhibit trust” (Burt, 2005, p. 95). Some
30-odd years later, an FBI informant could still claim that of all the Chicago Outfit
crews, the Chicago Heights members were the “tightest group in the Chicago area”
(U.S. Department of Justice, June 4, 1964, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 17).
Closed networks, however, tend toward inertia. The unprecedented success of the
Chicago Heights operations did not take place until the likes of Domenic Roberto and
others saw the opportunities presented in spanning their connections to the “opposite
sides of the hole.” These structural holes were numerous, for the abiding segregation
and separation of the Italian population created an array of opportunities for broker-
age. Broadly conceived, however, the most advantageous holes found the close knit,
social capital rich Italian community on one side; the ravenous Chicago-based, Capone
led Outfit on another; and the collection of “legitimate” local politicians, businessmen,
and law enforcement officials on the third. Nestled among these social networks, the
Chicago Heights “boys” found truth in Burt’s maxim that “individuals with networks
rich in structural holes are the individuals who know about, have a hand in, and exer-
cise control over, more rewarding opportunities” (Burt, 2002, p. 211).
Of course, these opportunities did not present themselves equally to every “boy” in
the Chicago Heights operation. Some of these members were either so young or so
deeply entrenched in the local Italian community they could not see the brokerage
opportunities. This advantage fell, instead, to the acknowledged leaders of this opera-
tion. Specifically, over the 50-year period from 1920 to 1970, Jimmy Emery, Domenic
Roberto, Giovanni Roberto, and Frank Laporte assumed top positions in the Chicago
Heights Outfit and most prominent roles in the upper echelon of the Chicago Outfit
itself. Of these men, Frank Laporte had the longest tenure and was generally consid-
ered the most active and involved leader in the day-to-day operations of the Outfit. As
such, Laporte will serve as our sample, our entrée into a discussion of the social capital
that is generated by brokerage and closure.
Rio Burke was, for a period of time, the wife of Domenic Roberto, the first leader
of the Chicago Heights “boys,” at least until he was deported. Burke recalls that Jimmy
Emery, the other acknowledged leader, “was grooming Frankie Laporte to take his
place in the organization” (Bergreen, 1994, pp. 198-199). As such, Laporte followed
Emery’s path to success through his connection to and brokerage between several
social networks ostensibly irrelevant to one another. One such network was the collec-
tion of Italian men in Chicago Heights who in the turbulent decades of the 1930s and
1940s had become even more marginalized and distanced from legitimate chances for
mobility. This network included a number of men in the closed circle that made up the
Chicago Heights “boys”—in particular, Giovanni Roberto, John Perry, Charlie
Costello, Joe Guzzino, John Nicastro, and Mike Roberto. Along with a number of
other close friends and relatives, these men provided the hard muscle, the illegal
270 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

know-how, the trusted day-to-day oversight that allowed Laporte to run his diverse
illegal enterprises.
Another network consisted of more functional ties—specifically, city officials, or
former officials, in the neighboring towns of Chicago Heights, Calumet City, Dixmoor,
and Burnham. These ties lacked the intimacy and assured trust of the networks above.
As such, they were in most cases forged through an instrumental exchange of money,
political support, and favoritism. Still, such ties were extremely valuable, though less
trustworthy, for they provided access to strategies, favors, and resources different and
more varied from the closed networks within the Italian circle of friends. We get some
sense of this when we examine Laporte’s ties to city officials in Chicago Heights. For
example, Craig Hood, a former mayor, was a Laporte associate, having represented
Laporte in court on several occasions. Silvio Piacenti, at one time the city attorney,
was deemed by FBI files to be a “close associate” of Laporte (U.S. Department of
Justice, January 16, 1963, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 35). Mike Costabile, also a city
attorney and a school board member, was tied to Laporte through a number of friends
and political leaders. Carl McGhee, another former mayor, was subsequently hired as
an attorney by Laporte. And not to be outdone, Maurino Richton, yet another former
mayor, was on friendly terms with Laporte, visiting Laporte in the hospital when he
was sick and attending various exclusive Laporte, family functions (U.S. Department
of Justice, March 5, 1963, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 35).
Yet a third network involved Laporte’s ties to the Chicago Outfit. From Capone, to
Frank Nitti, to Paul “The Waiter” Ricca, to Tony Accardo, Laporte was a confidant of
the top leaders in the Outfit. Early on, State’s Attorney, Pat Roche, hinted at this when
he said, “Laporte had been seen frequently loitering about the Chicago headquarters of
the Capone gang” (“Roche Seizes Eight,” 1930, p. 1). Through the years, Laporte
nurtured and extended these Outfit ties. Thus, once a month Laporte met with Tony
Accardo, Sam Giancana, and Eddie Vogel in Chicago Heights to discuss Outfit busi-
ness (U.S. Department of Justice, December 15, 1964, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 5).
Roemer (1989) includes Laporte as one of the “connection guys,” along with Murray
“The Camel” Humphries and Gus Alex, who met regularly in Chicago to report on the
latest developments in the Outfit. Further, Laporte was said to be “an admirer of Sam
‘Teets’ Battaglia and vice versa (pp. 81-84). Each has great respect for the other and
has met secretly on a number of occasions (U.S. Department of Justice, November 20,
1962, Bureau File 92-5793, p.3). And Laporte, though otherwise circumspect about
appearing in public, was a regular attendee at the funerals of the most, high ranking
Outfit leaders—a sign most likely of the strong ties that existed among these leaders.
Structural holes, then, create the vision advantage, closed networks provide the
“organizational suture that tightens coordination across the hole” (Burt, 2005, p.164).
An example might reveal more clearly the creative tension between brokerage and
closure. We focus upon the vending machine industry. As suggested previously, slot
machines had long been a staple of the Chicago Heights rackets. The “slot machine
trust” had beguiled city officials since the early part of the century. Even so, these
gambling operations were sequestered in the predominantly immigrant enclaves in the
city, especially along 26th street in the Hill area. As such, the Star appealed to the
Corsino 271

“men of repute in the community” (“One Reason Why the Star,” 1911, p. 1) to take a
stand against the vice chieftains in the immigrant wards of the city.
This isolation of the slot machines on the Hill prevailed well into the 1930s as the
Heights operation devoted its considerable expertise and resources to the production
of illegal alcohol. In the meantime, the Torrio–Capone organization began expanding
its operation not only to Chicago Heights but also more famously into Cicero (and
Stickney, Forest View, Berwyn, and River Forest). Through a series of political maneu-
vers and a show of force, the Chicago Outfit settled into Cicero and filled the main
streets with houses of prostitution, dance halls, and gambling dens (Peterson, 1952).
Most significantly, these illegal operations moved beyond the isolated immigrant
enclaves and into the more respectable venues in the city—the streets, social groups,
neighborhoods all across the town. As Peterson concluded, the Torrio–Capone gang-
sters “own Cicero—lock, stock, and barrel” (1952, p. 125).
Besides Torrio and Capone, several men were most instrumental in promoting the
slot machine business. Thus, one of the leading figures in the Cicero takeover was
Eddie Vogel, the so-called “King of the Slot Machines” or sometimes referred to as the
“Honorary Mayor of Cicero.” Vogel played a key role in extending the slot machine
empire beyond the main street saloons and gambling dens and into the myriad social
clubs, fraternal organizations, and taverns throughout the town. In commenting upon
the proliferation of slot machines in and around Chicago, Illinois Assistant State’s
Attorney, Henry E. Ayres said, “So many machines were placed in operation that tru-
ant officers were compelled to demand that the police remove the machines from the
vicinity of school buildings where school children frequently gambled on the
machines" (Bollinger, 2006, p. 3). Other key players were Jack Gusik and his younger
brother Sam Gusik (See Haller, 1990, pp. 217-223). As a result of the efforts of Vogel
and the Gusik brothers, Lait and Mortimer (1950) concluded that while the majority of
Cicero residents were “fine family folk,” Cicero was a “carnival of crime and lewd-
ness . . . ” (p. 95). “Here you will find “one-armed bandits everywhere except in the
churches” (p. 96).
Vogel and the Gusik brothers were long time associates of Frank Laporte. These
men, along with other “top Chicago hoodlums,” were “known to participate in high-
level conferences concerning the gambling situation in Cook County” (U.S. Department
of Justice, July 10, 1962, Bureau File 92-5793, p. 51). And these men were also mutu-
ally connected through third parties such as Babe Tuffanelli, a Blue Island racketeer;
Francis Curry, the slot machine boss of Joliet and Will County; and Chuck English,
once a Cicero-based gambling operator and then a phonograph record supplier. These
associations, on the other side of the hole from the Chicago Heights rackets, provided
Laporte with practical, best practices advice on how to run a slot machine business—
for example, how to place the slots in “respectable” organizations, how to avoid hav-
ing the slot machines hijacked by non-Outfit hoodlums, how to service and make
collections on the machines, and how to spirit the slots away when an impending raid
was learned about beforehand.
Perhaps, more importantly, Laporte was made aware of the grander, entrepreneurial
vision. Laporte’s association with Vogel, Gusik, and others made him more than a
272 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

good manager. It promoted a wider angle regarding the expansion of the slot machine
rackets to a number of communities south of Chicago (Harvey, Blue Island, Kankakee,
Calumet City, Joliet, South Chicago Heights, Calumet Park, Willow Springs,
Hammond, Steger, and Dixmoor) and within each of these communities an expansion
beyond the immigrant neighborhoods per se to the more middle and working class
organizations, country clubs, and lunchrooms. The Cicero example demonstrated that
there was gambling money to be made not only, or even primarily, in the “red light”
districts of a city. Indeed, Laporte saw the advantage of stretching the retail outlets for
the slot machines into the more legitimate venues in society. In this manner, Laporte
even trumped the Cicero organization. As Joe Nicastro said, “Even St. Agnes had a
garage loaded with slot machines. They got a piece of it. They split the money 50/50
after the boys took the money off the top” (Joe Nicastro, personal Communication,
August 11, 2002).
Laporte’s associations, then, with key figures in the Chicago Outfit increased the
value of the local slot machine business. The Cicero operation, in particular, provided
the blue-print, both in its successes and excesses. However, the expansion of the slot
machine trust in Chicago Heights would have been severely compromised without the
social capital advantages provided by the closed social networks available to Laporte.
For example, this illegal enterprise required a steady flow of customers and a reliable
network of service providers. At the same time, customers had to be serviced in a cir-
cumspect manner, unlike the more blatant practices in Cicero, least the Outfit risk
unwanted attention on the part of law enforcement officials or the opprobrium of the
local citizens. More to the point, even though Chicago Heights was an “open town”
and even though Laporte’s ties to city officials provided nonenforcement protection,
the slot machine operations had to be coordinated in both a profitable and clandestine
manner to avoid the infamous notoriety as was the case in Cicero.
This prosaic coordination and control was achieved in large measure by embedding
the slot machine operations in the informal bonds and networks that were already in
place in the community, and thereby avoiding the creation of a so-called “red light”
district. In this respect, the fraternal organizations and clubs—for example, the Hunters
Club, the Catholic War Vets, the American Legion Posts, the CIO Steel Workers Club,
the Polish Democratic Club, the Loyal Order of Moose, the Fraternal Order of Eagles,
the Chicago Heights Country Club, the Italian American Republican Club, the Olympia
Fields Country Club, the Christopher Columbus Society, the Polish Falcons, the
Military Order of the Purple Heart, to name just several—were most favored places for
the Outfit slots. The formal criteria for club membership and the strong personal ties
and sanctions that developed among club members gave the Outfit an indigenous set
of social control mechanisms, a supply of social capital to discourage “malfeasance.”
For example, disgruntled customers or losers were handled internally by club officials,
club members, or priests. As Louie Patrizi said, “If you had a problem losing money,
you took it up with other guys in the club, no one ever talked to the Outfit guys” (Louie
Patrizi, personal Communication, February 1997).
Taverns posed more of a problem since theoretically they were far less exclusive in
terms of who they serviced, and the networks of customers, bartenders, and owners
Corsino 273

were more open. But even here, we find that the Outfit slots were placed in mainly
corner bars, saloons, and liquor stores, places where the customers were “regulars.” As
Haller concludes more generally, “Like other retailers in the city, some leaders of
organized crime . . . were essentially neighborhood businessmen with local clientele
. . . Those providing illegal goods and services usually attempted to cultivate customer
loyalty so that the same customers would return on an ongoing basis and advertise
among friends” (1990 p. 226). Cultivating customer loyalty served the Chicago
Heights Outfit well for it provided a trustworthy set of personal relations through
which to run the illegal, clandestine slot machine operation. My father, Andy Corsino,
who worked for a time as a bartender at the Copa Cabanna Tavern in Chicago Heights,
said, “It wasn’t always the case, but you pretty much had to know a guy before you let
him in the backroom” (Andy Corsino, personal Communication, July 15, 1994). The
backroom or the rear of the tavern was informally reserved for these regulars. Access
to the slot machines in these more secluded areas generally required some acknowl-
edgement on the part of the waitress, bartender, or owner. We get some sense of this
mix of social and geographic access when charges against several tavern owners were
dismissed in court because the slot machines were seized from “living quarters behind
saloons”—suggesting at least both a legal and social exclusion as one moved from the
front of the tavern to the rear and beyond (“No Warrants,” 1949, p. 9).
The variously closed systems of personal and social relations, then, were of critical
importance in running the slot machine operation in Chicago Heights. Without the
mediating social influences of fraternal club associations and neighborhood bars, the
number of people willing to step into these notorious and illegal markets would have
certainly been more limited. The so-called “blue nose” factor would have been more
powerful. And without the willingness on the part of club officials and tavern owners to
essentially manage the slot machine business on a daily basis for the Outfit and to take
the heat when necessary—in terms of fines, public disapproval, and the vagaries of the
gambling market—Laporte and his crew would have needed to spend far more of their
resources on these disruptions. Force and intimidation, as significant as it was in pro-
ducing the Outfit’s monopoly over the slot machine business vis a vis competitors,
would have played a more significant role in normal operating procedures. Along these
lines, the gambling operation in the red-light district of Cicero points to the incredible
profits but also the incredible resources and exposure that the Outfit endures when it is
not embedded in the local community, when violence supplants social capital.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship,
and/or publication of this article.

Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship,
and/or publication of this article: The author would like to thank North Central College for a
summer stipend which allowed for the completion of this project.
274 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 29(2)

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Author Biography
Louis Corsino, is a professor at North Central College. He has published in the general fields
of deviance, ethnic entrepreneurship, and politics in journals such as Research in Political
Sociology, Deviant Behavior, Social Science Journal, and Research in the Sociology of Work.
He has a forthcoming book entitled, The Boys of Chicago Heights: Organized Crime and an
Italian Community, with the University of Illinois Press.