Death of powerful NE Pennsylvania boss

Some link Bufalino to Hoffa disappearance, 
Kennedy assassination, effort to kill Castro

On this date in 1994...

Rosario "Russell" Bufalino, longtime boss of the Northeastern Pennsylvania Mafia, departed this life on Friday afternoon, February 25, 1994, at the age of 90. He may have taken numerous underworld secrets with him. Bufalino was widely suspected of involvement in the disappearance of former Teamsters leader Jimmy Hoffa. He also was believed by many to hold information relating to the assassination of President John Kennedy and to the CIA's efforts to remove Cuban dictator Fidel Castro.

A resident of Kingston for much of his life, Bufalino passed away at ten minutes after two in the borough's Nesbitt Memorial Hospital. The cause of death was not released. Relatives kept secret their plans for Bufalino's funeral, irritating state and federal investigators who wanted to document and film the individuals attending it.

Born October 29, 1903, at Montedoro, Sicily, Bufalino was taken to the United States as a baby with his mother Christina Bucceleri Bufalino and several siblings. His father Angelo was already living in the Pittson area of Pennsylvania. Following the deaths of his parents, Bufalino and two sisters were shuttled back and forth across the Atlantic by family members. He and one sister ended up in 1914 with an older brother in Buffalo, New York (who was close to Magaddino underboss John Montana), while the remaining sister was deported for medical reasons. As a teen, Bufalino worked as an automobile mechanic.

Bufalino married Caroline Sciandra at Buffalo in the summer of 1928. The newlyweds subsequently moved to Endicott, New York, and Pittston, Pennsylvania, before settling in Kingston. They both had relatives in the region. Bufalino became involved in the garment industry and held financial interests in the Penn Drape & Curtain Company and the Alaimo Dress Company.

This was a departure from the pattern of earlier underworld-connected Montedoresi in the Luzerne County coal country, who had become leaders both in coal mining operations and in the coalminers' labor unions. Bufalino's early roles in the regional Mafia, known as the "Men of Montedoro" because of the dominance of the Montedoresi, are uncertain.

Bufalino likely succeeded to the leadership of the Men of Montedoro Mafia following the 1949 death of John Sciandra. But he was not really noticed by law enforcement until the Apalachin convention of 1957.

Bufalino's crime family was reported to be closely aligned with the Genovese Crime Family of nearby New York City. Bufalino spent much of his time in New York and is believed to have aided Mafiosi from that area in setting themselves up in non-union garment manufacturing businesses in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Bufalino also appeared to have business interests in Florida and Cuba.

There were reports of a visit to Cuba by Bufalino in November 1951. Documented trips to the island nation in late 1955 and spring 1956 later caused serious legal problems for the crime boss because he improperly claimed U.S. citizenship upon his reentry.

Authorities were confused by crime family relationships following the 1957 Apalachin convention. Due to the proximity of convention host Joseph Barbara's Apalachin estate to Scranton, Pittston, Wilkes-Barre home territory of the Northeast Pennsylvania Mafia, state and federal investigators decided that Barbara was a regional crime boss and Bufalino was his underboss. (This was stated in the 1970 report of the Pennsylvania Crime Commission.) It now appears, however, that Barbara was a remote lieutenant for the Magaddino Crime Family based in Buffalo, New York, while Bufalino was boss of his own organization.

As federal investigators looked into Bufalino after Apalachin, they discovered documents relating to his earlier returns from Cuba. In April of 1958, the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service ordered him deported as an undesirable alien. Years of legal appeals followed.

(Some writers have insisted that Bufalino developed a close personal relationship with Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista in the late 1950s and worked to return Batista to power after Fidel Castro's revolution. Some connect these claims to incidents relating to Hoffa and the Kennedys. There even have been suggestions that Bufalino personally fled Cuba just ahead of Castro's advancing army at the start of 1959 and may have watched the failed 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion from a ship off the Cuban coast. Given Bufalino's ongoing problems with the INS deportation order, these claims seem far-fetched. It would have been extremely unlikely that Bufalino would have risked setting foot outside the country in this period for any reason at all.)

Late in 1959, Bufalino was among the more than 20 Apalachin meeting attendees to be convicted of conspiring to keep the purpose of the meeting from investigating agencies. In January 1960, Bufalino and fourteen co-defendants were sentenced to serve five-year terms in prison. Others were sentenced to lesser terms. The judge permitted the defendants to remain free on bail pending their appeals. Nearly a year later, an appeals court threw out the convictions.

Bufalino remained virtually untouched by law enforcement until his later years. Near the end of 1969, he was indicted in connection with the transport of stolen televisions across state lines. He was acquitted in 1970 and complained to the press about law enforcement harassment and wiretapping. He was then charged in spring 1973 with engaging in extortion in the cigarette vending machine business. A jury in Buffalo, New York, acquitted him.

At about that time, the U.S. was poised finally to deport him to his native Italy, but Italy halted the plan, refusing to issue the paperwork necessary for his return.

Another extortion case resulted in another acquittal in 1975. In the same period, Bufalino was mentioned but not charged in connection with the disappearance and likely murder of Hoffa, who was attempting to regain power in the Teamsters union. However, in the summer of 1977, Bufalino was convicted of extortion. His first documented experience inside a prison occurred in summer 1978, when his legal appeals concluded and he became an inmate at Danbury, Connecticut, Federal Correctional Institution. He served three years of the sentence before being paroled on May 8, 1981.

During his time in prison, the crime family of Northeastern Pennsylvania was reportedly managed by Edward Sciandra (nephew of former boss John Sciandra).

Less than half a year after his release from prison - at a time when his underworld organization was regarded as the most powerful in the State of Pennsylvania - he was charged with conspiring to kill a federal witness back in 1976. He was convicted and sentenced to ten years in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. He was released in May 1989, after serving six years and eight months of that term. The end of the sentence was served in the federal prison hospital at Springfield, Missouri, as Bufalino's health began to decline in 1987 and a transfer was deemed necessary.

Bufalino spent the final two years of his life in a Kingston nursing home. Following his death, management of the regional crime family fell to Edward Sciandra and former Bufalino driver and confidant William D'Elia.

Read more:

INFORMER: Informer - Apr 2011

Men of Montedoro by Thomas Hunt and Michael A. Tona / Daring 1870 Bank Robbery in Scranton / Sicilian Miners Battle Black Handers in Northeastern Pennsylvania by Thomas Hunt / Capones Reach the Promised Land by Deirdre Marie Capone / Northeast Pennsylvania Mafia Membership Chart by Bill Feather /…

Sources:

• Corbett, Steve, "Moving up in the underworld," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, March 29, 1994, p. 3.
• Corbett, Steve, "The passing of a shadow," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, March 1, 1994, p. 3.
• "Death of the Don: Bufalino ruled over a vast crime empire," Wilkes-Barre Citizens' Voice, March 6, 1994, p. 8.
• "Death of the Don: Direction of Bufalino Family now remains unclear," Wilkes-Barre Citizens' Voice, March 7, 1994, p. 6.
• "Feds want Bufalino mourners on film," Wilkes-Barre Citizens" Voice, March 1, 1994, p. 5.
• Houlihan, Frederick T., "Russell Alfred Bufalino, aka Russell Bufalino...," FBI report, file no. 92-2839-86, NARA no. 124-10290-10333, Sept. 12, 1960.
• Hunt, Thomas, and Michael A. Tona, DiCarlo: Buffalo's First Family of Crime, Vol. II - From 1938, 2013.
• Hunt, Thomas, and Michael A. Tona, "Men of Montedoro," Informer: The History of American Crime and Law Enforcement, April 2011.
• Lynott, Jerry, "Former Pocono Record writer's book reveals a boss's power," Pocono Record, Sept. 3, 2013.
• "Mob boss Bufalino dies," Wilkes-Barre Citizens' Voice, Feb. 26, 1994, p. 4.
• "Mob boss Russell Bufalino," Philadelphia Daily News, Feb. 28, 1994, p. 37.
• Moldea, Dan E., "The Hoffa Wars," Playboy, November 1978.
• Morrison, Mitch, "Mystery follows Bufalino to the grave," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, March 1, 1994, p. 2.
• New York State Marriage Index, Buffalo, New York, certificate no. 23108, Aug. 9, 1928.
• "Organized crime may be meeting its Waterloo," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, April 17, 1994, p. 17.
• Passenger manifest of S.S. Brasile, departed Naples on Dec. 31, 1905, arrived New York on Jan. 14, 1906.
• Passenger manifest of S.S. Citta di Milano, departed Naples on Dec. 2, 1903, arrived New York on Dec. 21, 1903.
• Pennsylvania Crime Commission, Report on Organized Crime, 1970.
• Russell A. Bufalino World War II draft registration card, Fox Hill PA, 1942.
• "Russell Bufalino," New York Daily News, Feb. 28, 1994, p. 25.
• "Russell Bufalino, 91, reputed Pa. mob boss," Philadelphia Inquirer, Feb. 28, 1994, p. C10.
• "Russell Bufalino, alleged mob boss, dies at age 90," Hazleton Standard Speaker, Feb. 26, 1994, p. 30.
• "Russell Bufalino, reputed Pennsylvania crime boss," Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Feb. 28, 1994, p. 16.
• SAC Philadelphia, "Russell A. Bufalino, aka, Neutrality Matter," FBI Airtel, file no. 2-1664-1, NARA no. 124-10293-10378, March 3, 1961.
• Scholz, Frank, "Reputed mob boss Bufalino, 91, dies," Scranton Sunday Times, Feb. 27, 1994, p. 3.
• Shurmaitis, Dawn, "Just a good fella?," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, April 17, 1994, p. 1.
• Shurmaitis, Dawn, and Robert Sitten, "Russell Bufalino, 'don of dons,' dies," Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, Feb. 26, 1994, p. 1.
• Social Security Applications and Claims Index, 168-12-7767, death date Feb. 25, 1994, claim date July 26, 1968.
• Social Security Death Index, 162-12-7767, Feb. 25, 1994, Ancestry.com.
• U.S. Department of Labor Immigration Service file on Cristina Bufalino, 1914.

Centenarian mobster 'Sonny' Franzese passes

Colombo Crime Family big shot John "Sonny" Franzese died Sunday, February 23, 2020, at the age of 103, according to published reports. Family sources indicated that Franzese, a longtime resident of the Long Island Village of Roslyn, died following a brief illness.

(While it appears he was at least 100 at the time of his death, Franzese's age has been inconsistently reported over the years. He was widely reported to be forty-seven when indicted in March 1966, placing his birth in 1918-1919. Some government files point to February 1919 as the date of his birth. That birth timing was confirmed when he was arrested as a parole violator in spring 1986 at the stated age of 67. However, more recent reports have added a couple of years. The age of 103 noted in his obits puts his birth in 1916-1917. Other government files support that timing.)

The Neapolitan Franzese reportedly began his underworld career as an enforcer and hit man. Federal authorities believe he was introduced to organized crime through his father, Carmine. "Sonny" Franzese's power and influence were greatest in the 1960s, when as crime family lieutenant, he supervised Colombo rackets on Long Island and invested in "adult" night spots, Times Square peep shows and massage parlors, recording companies and pornographic movies.

Law enforcement began catching up with Franzese in the middle of that decade. He was indicted in March 1966 for acting as an enforcer for a lucrative Manhattan bookmaking ring, in the following month for leading a gang responsible for bank robberies across the U.S. and in October of the same year in connection with the 1964 murder of Ernest "the Hawk" Rupolo. Franzese once told Newsday that he felt the collection of charges in that period were due to a "conspiracy to get me."

Prosecutors got him only on the bank robbery conspiracy charge. For that federal offense, in April 1967 he was sentenced to up to fifty years in prison and fined $20,000. Franzese always insisted that he was innocent. He viewed the cases against him and the long prison sentence as government attempts to convince him to provide evidence against his underworld associates. He boasted of his commitment to the Mafia code of silence.

"They wanted me to roll all the time," Franzese recalled for an interview with Newsday. "I couldn't do that, because it's my principle. Jesus suffered; He didn't squeal on nobody."

Franzese remained free on $150,000 bail as his legal appeals in the bank robbery case were processed. (His attorneys argued that evidence against him had been obtained through the use of illegal electronic surveillance in the kitchen of his Roslyn home.) The appeals were unsuccessful, and he began serving his sentence on March 26, 1970, just three days before the Easter holiday. He was released on parole for the first time in 1978, but was sent back to prison on five different occasions for violating parole.

Franzese, then in his nineties, was convicted in 2010 of extorting New York businesses. He was sentenced to serve eight years in prison. He was last released from prison in June 2017.

In recent years, Franzese lived in a nursing home, needed a wheelchair to get around due to a broken hip and reportedly was fitted with a heart pacemaker and hearing aids.


Sources:

• Brown, Lee, "102-year-old mobster: 'I never hurt nobody that was innocent," New York Post, nypost.com, March 27, 2019.
• Burke, Cathy, "Colombo underboss Sonny Franzese looks back on 102 years with no regrets, and a boast that he's never been a rat," New York Post, nypost.com, March 27, 2019.
• "Cosa Nostran held as robberies brain," Plainfield NJ Courier-News, April 13, 1966, p. 7.
• "Crime figure seized on L.I.; Parole violations are cited," New York Times, April 29, 1986, p. 36.
• Everett, Arthur, "Mob tightening grip on pornography," Vineland NJ Times Journal, Dec. 14, 1972, p. 21.
• Failla, Zak, "Man who led Colombo Family's Long Island rackets dies," Suffolk Daily Voice, dailyvoice.com, Feb. 24, 2020.
• "Franzese loses bid to upset verdict," New York Times, March 27, 1970, p. 37.
• Kirkman, Edward, and Arthur Mulligan, "Put halter on big bookie 'muscle man," New York Daily News, March 25, 1966, p. 2.
• Peddie, Sandra, "John 'Sonny" Franzese dead: Longtime Colombo underboss was 103, family says," Newsday, newsday.com, Feb. 24, 2020.
• Pugh, Thomas, William Federici and Richard Henry, "Indict 5 Cosa hoods in killing of 6th," New York Daily News, Oct. 4, 1966, p. 3.
• Sherman, William, "Mafia declares war, but porn king survives," New York Daily News, Dec. 13, 1972, p. 5. 
• Walsh, Robert, "Franzese gets new suit; it's a jailstriper," New York Daily News, March 27, 1970, p. 24. 
• Walsh, Robert, and Henry Lee, "Tag 9 guys & a gal in bank holdups, Inc.," New York Daily News, April 13, 1966, p. 3.

Shotgun takes out Chicago's 'Scourge'

On this date in 1926...

Shotgun blasts on the evening of February 15, 1926, ended the underworld career of well-connected Chicago Mafioso Orazio Tropea.

Orazio Tropea (Chicago Daily Tribune)

Witnesses saw Tropea step off an eastbound streetcar at the corner of Taylor and Halsted Streets shortly after nine o'clock that night. As he walked east across Halsted, an automobile advanced on him from behind and nearly struck him. Tropea yelled angrily at the driver. The car stopped next to him, and a man emerged from it and raised a shotgun to Tropea's head. The Mafioso had just time enough to shout and raise his arms before the first barrel of the shotgun was discharged. The gunman then fired the second barrel.

Tropea absorbed much of the lead, but some fragments scattered, breaking through the windows of nearby businesses and wounding a bystander.

No shortage of suspects 

After spending some time in New York City and Buffalo, Tropea, known in underworld circles as "the Scourge," became a lieutenant in the Genna gang of Chicago in the early 1920s. He organized extortion rackets and extracted tribute payments from local businessmen.

In a relatively short time, Tropea accumulated an imposing list of enemies. Business owners resented his collection efforts. Adversaries of the "Terrible Gennas" had good reason to fear and hate him. Following the mid-1920s murders of brothers Angelo and Michael Genna, Genna relatives and the new underworld regime of Joseph Aiello quickly joined the enemies list.

Tropea's secret betrayal of the Genna clan and his allegiance to a breakaway Mafia faction became apparent following the January 1926 murder of Genna in-law Henry Spingola. Tropea and Spingola were playing cards at Amato's Restaurant on Halsted Street. Tropea stepped briefly away from the game as it was wrapping up. It was said that he either made a telephone call or raised a lighted match in front of a street-facing window. Spingola was then shot to death as he got into his car.

In February, Tropea was assigned with collecting money for the legal defense of Mafia gunmen John Scalisi and Albert Anselmi, charged in the shooting deaths of two Chicago detectives. That he was skimming from the collections could be deduced from his comfortable living arrangements at the Congress Hotel. And that, too, likely added significantly to his enemies list.

Tropea's personal life did not improve his popularity. With a wife and child in Catania, Sicily, Tropea married another woman and had another child while in Buffalo. After moving on to Chicago, he began a new relationship with a local teenager and sought to marry her as well (the wife in Sicily had reportedly died by this time, but he was still married to the woman in Buffalo). Her parents refused to permit the marriage, but Tropea continued seeing the girl.

Any of the individuals betrayed, hurt or terrorized by Tropea could have played a role in his murder.

Connections

Investigators discovered that Tropea had been carrying almost one thousand dollars in cash and wearing a large diamond ring when he was shot. They also learned that he was preparing to leave the city for a vacation in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Police also recovered Tropea's small addressbook. It included a number of personal and business contacts from the Chicago area, including Mafioso Antonio Lombardo and members of the Aiello family. It also had information for underworld figures in Buffalo, Detroit, Pittsburgh and Brooklyn.

Read more about Tropea's addressbook on Mafiahistory.us.

Divisions within the Chicago Mafia came to the attention of investigators. They learned that gunmen initially brought into Chicago to act as Genna enforcers had decided to break away. The resulting factional struggle resulted in the killings of several Gennas, "Samoots" Amatuna and others.

One mourner

Following the Tropea murder, according to the press, no one in the Chicago area had a single good word to say about "the Scourge." Many in the Italian-American community expressed relief at his passing.

While his mother-in-law in Buffalo considered having the body brought to western New York for burial, that plan seems to have been quickly abandoned. Only two visitors went to the funeral home: his wife and his young girlfriend.

Arrow shows Tropea as
pallbearer for Angelo Genna
(Chicago Daily Tribune)

Tropea was buried on February 20. There was no religious service, none of the gaudy trappings of Chicago gangland funerals (as seen in the recent funeral of Angelo Genna, for whom Tropea served as pallbearer). Only the girlfriend went to the gravesite for his burial. As Tropea's city-funded casket was placed there, she fell onto it and wept.

Killings continue

The murder of Tropea did not bring an end to the warfare in Chicago's Sicilian underworld.

Baldelli (left) and Bascone

One day after Tropea was buried, a friend of his was found dead in a field in the Chicago suburb of Oak Lawn. Vito Bascone had been shot in the head. It looked as though his body had been thrown from a passing automobile. Police knew that he had quarreled with the Spingola family and concluded that Bascone's murder was related to the ambush of Henry Spingola.

Three days after that, the body of Edward "the Eagle" Baldelli was found in a Chicago alley. Baldelli had been severely beaten and then shot twice through the head. Police believed that the body had been driven to the alley and left there to be discovered. In Baldelli's possession, police found a number of business cards, including one for a business partner of Orazio Tropea.

See also:

• Bio of Tropea in Who Was Who section of Mafiahistory.us
• DiCarlo: Buffalo's First Family of Crime by Thomas Hunt and Michael A. Tona 

Sources:

• "Certificate of identification," photograph, Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 17, 1926, p. 38.
• "Deportation or death seen as gangster fate," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 17, 1926, p. 2.
• "Feudists slay Sicilian ally of Genna gang," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 16, 1926, p. 1.
• "Fight to free city of thugs given impetus," Belvidere Daily Republican, Feb. 16, 1926, p. 1.
• "Forty-first victim of gang war," Buffalo Evening Times, Feb. 24, 1926, p. 15.
• "Gennas' friend slain; spurs war on aliens," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 22, 1926, p. 1.
• "Latest slaying occurs during lull of one day in drive against gunmen," Rock Island IL Argus, Feb. 24, 1926, p. 1.
• "List of names found," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 17, 1926, p. 2.
• "One dead in gang fight," DeKalb IL Daily Chronicle, Feb. 16, 1926, p. 1.
• "Orazio the 'Scourge' buried without friends or clergy," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 21, 1926, p. 4.
• "Parents weep over clewless Mafia murder," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 25, 1926, p. 4.
• "Police raid Mafia; get 121," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 23, 1926, p. 1.
• "Raiders find old haunts of gunmen dark," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 25, 1926, p. 1.
• "Rival loves weep for Orazio but his real widow is sought," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 18, 1926, p. 3.
• "Say man killed in Chicago son-in-law of Buffalo woman," Buffalo Daily Courier, Feb. 17, 1926, p. 16.
• "Sicilian gang kills again," Chicago Tribune, Feb. 22, 1926, p. 1.
• "Son-in-law is killed by gang in Chicago row," Buffalo Morning Express, Feb. 17, 1926.
• "Trace Sicilian killers in fight for deportation," Chicago Daily Tribune, Feb. 18, 1926, p. 3.

"A Killing in Capone's Playground: The True Story of the Hunt for the Most Dangerous Man Alive" Foreword

St. Joseph Police Officer Charles Skelly, 1929

“Merry Christmas, Officer Skelly,” bellowed Santa Claus, the treasured character aptly portrayed by a local merchant. It was a Saturday evening, December 14, 1929, in downtown St. Joseph, Michigan. Police officer Charles Skelly smiled and waved at the well-padded jolly man in red. It was just above freezing and clouds hid the fiery sun sinking into Lake Michigan. Officer Skelly had bundled up in his duty coat to stave off the elements. Southwesterly winds blew in from Chicago, much different from the “pea soup” treachery of the previous two days. Dealing with the elements was part of Skelly’s job. Most recently, the elements were in the form of fire and water, since he had been serving as the assistant chief of the St. Joseph Fire Department during the last year. Deep down he was a boy in blue, so when the opportunity arose in June, Skelly stepped off the fire engine and onto a motorcycle. That winter night, though, he was on foot, walking his beat, passing by garland-decorated lampposts and shoppers struggling to carry bulky packages.

Christmas was on the minds of everyone, and maybe a few other things, too. That night was the opening of the Class D high school basketball season for Benton Harbor’s St. John’s Irish who faced the Gaels of the Berrien County community of Galien. Those seeking to cozy up at home could listen to WGN Radio’s “Radio Floorwalker” at 8:00 p.m. News around the state showed that liquor law violations were down, and Detroit’s new police radios were proving to be highly successful in the fight against crime.2 Nationally, the U.S. Senate was about to pass a 1 percent income tax cut resolution, and the date marked the 130th anniversary of George Washington’s death. There was so much to celebrate and be grateful for. It was Christmastime and almost the end of a decade.

Among the crowds on the streets and sidewalks were people familiar to the young officer. Fred and Leona Ludwig noticed Officer Skelly when they exited one of the downtown stores. Mingling for a moment, the three continued walking for the distance of a pleasant conversation and then went their separate ways, offering a wave to each other as they did. At 25-yearsold and still a bachelor, the ruggedly fetching Charles Skelly worked 12-hour shifts, sometimes seven days a week, which made romance difficult. Bevies of beauties were always within sight around a man in uniform, yet Skelly had become aware of a special girl, Mildred Thar, a 20-year-old brunette with a smile that could make any male “dizzy with a dame.” Mildred shared an apartment with her sisters, Belle, Caroline, and Gladys, at 607 Broad Street in the Freund Building, across from the police and fire station. Skelly could not help gazing at Mildred any time she was around. The attraction must have been mutual because the two began a courtship. Mildred worked at the Williams Box Factory just a few blocks away and looked forward to running into her handsome boy in blue. On that busy night, he walked his beat, the ashy flame from his cigarette visible as he took sight of others walking hand in hand. He may have  thought about the day when he would marry…maybe Mildred.

The atmosphere of downtown St. Joseph was magical that night. A Christmas tree adorned the corner of State and Pleasant Streets where Santa Claus hollered his greetings. Storefronts displayed the latest fashions to entice the ever so tempted consumer. Men in overcoats and fedoras noticed a group of young women who were pointing out the newest lingerie that you “step into.” Who could resist the “silken wisps of loveliness,” as Gilmore Brothers described their stockings? They cost $2 a pair.

By 7:00 p.m., darkness covered the city, but flickers of candlelight and sidewalk lamps lit up the streets. The whistling wind wafting around lampposts created dust swirls on the sidewalks and ripples over the wool-adorned shoppers. A jettisoned piece of velvet ribbon floated to the ground and curled, as if seeking a package to adorn. The dull roar of Lake Michigan only two blocks away grumbled like a machine, dark and ominous. Officer Skelly kept watch, like the lighthouse stationed at the end of the pier to keep all who enter the harbor safe. He lifted a cigarette to his lips and inhaled, the bright amber glow reflected in the store window on the corner where he stood, just as the lighthouse beacon illuminated the harbor. Skelly heard the giggles of several young boys and girls approaching. He pointed out Santa Claus, much to their delight and his own.

As the clock hands pointed to 25 minutes past seven, the sudden blaring of a car horn drowned out the distant sounds of sleigh bells. Skelly turned toward the sound and saw a man driving a Chevy Coach, hailing his assistance.The vehicle pulled up along the southeast corner of State and Broad Streets where Skelly had been walking his beat. Listening to the excited story of the driver, Skelly had no idea he had just stepped into a role in a Shakespearian tragedy about to unfold.

Skelly approached the car and leaned in to the driver, who rambled the numbers six, five, seven, one, zero, six. While reaching for his notepad, Skelly interrupted, “Sir, please calm down and start at the beginning.” The man explained that they had been involved in a fender bender on U.S. Highway 12 back by Cleveland Avenue and said the man driving the car that hit them was very drunk. Taking notes, Skelly interrupted once again to ask some basic questions. The driver finally identified himself and the occupants of the car, apologizing for being flustered.

“I’m Forrest Kool from Buchanan and this here’s my wife, Laverne, with our three-month-old daughter, Joyce,” he said, while gesturing in the direction of each person. “In back is my mother-in-law, Hattie Carlson, and brother-in-law, Harold.”

Skelly took note that Harold was only about 10 years old. He nodded and then asked Kool to tell him what happened.

The 22-year-old Kool explained that they had been Christmas shopping and were on their way home to rural Weesaw Township, driving south on U.S. Highway 12, when he noticed a Hudson coupe driving toward them in the same lane, near the intersection of Cleveland Avenue. Seeing that the oncoming vehicle was not moving back into its own lane, Kool abruptly swerved his Chevy off onto the shoulder but still took a direct impact in the side rear fender, jarring his passengers. After making sure everyone was safe, he turned around to see the Hudson slow and pull over about a quarter mile down the road behind them. Kool managed to pull his car, which was no longer drivable, into the driveway of the home belonging to Dr. Charles W. Merritt. Kool got out of the car and waved down a couple in a passing Chevy, who he figured had seen the accident. The driver pulled over and introduced himself as Edward Rupp of Union Pier. Kool hopped onto the running board of Rupp’s Chevy and they drove the short distance to the Hudson, which had come to a stop near the St. Joseph Auto Camp, across from LaSalle Street.

Rupp pulled in front of the Hudson and Kool stepped off the running board. The Hudson appeared to be new, and Kool took note that it had an orange Indiana license plate, number 657-106. The car had slight scuffing and a small dent in the front quarter-panel, where it had hit Kool’s fender. He walked up to the driver’s side, boldly opened the door, and confronted the man sitting inside, “What do you mean by running into me like that?”

“Hit your car?” the man slurred, looking puzzled. Kool realized the driver was clearly intoxicated. “Well, why don’t you drive it over here so I can look at the damage,” he mumbled.

“Well, the fender is bent in against the tire so I can’t drive it,” Kool explained. “Why don’t you come with me and see for yourself?”

The intoxicated driver attempted to get out of his car but hesitated for a moment as if getting his bearings. It was then that he apparently noticed Rupp standing next to Kool. This seemed to make him nervous because once again he asked Kool, “Why don’t you drive yer car over?” apparently forgetting that he had already suggested that.

Not interested in dealing with the intoxicated man, Rupp drove away. The man seemed quite relieved. Just then, another car slowed down and stopped. The driver, William Lohraff of Berrien Springs, asked if they needed any help. Kool waved him off, and Lohraff continued on his way.

The intoxicated man managed to struggle to his feet. He took a few steps, stopped, and turned to look at his car for a moment, but then joined Kool, who was walking south toward his Chevy, where his family still sat. The intoxicated man seemed to stagger more than walk the quarter-mile distance. Kool took note that he wore a cap, light buff-colored sweater, and dark pants, but no coat. His face was rosy from inebriation and he reeked of alcohol. He was all of 200 pounds, tall, with a small dark mustache and manicured nails; he was well groomed but missing a front tooth. Kool thought the man acted polite, but noticed that he talked somewhat brokenly. Kool wondered if he was from another part of the country, but considered that perhaps the missing tooth was the cause.

The man then said, “You know, I was on my way to pick up my wife at the train station.”

Trying to avoid being downwind of the foul-smelling man, Kool showed him where he had swerved and finally where the car ended up. Laverne and her mother peered through the car windows at the tall stranger. Their piercing shouts penetrated the windows, even when rolled up. Worried that they were agitating the man, Kool quickly interrupted, “Shut up. I’ve got this under control.”

Looking puzzled, both women complied. The man glanced at the women as he tried to keep his balance but hardly reacted to them. He let out a belch and rocked back on his heels.

Both men looked over the damage. Kool asked the man if he would help pull out the fender so he could drive home. With a few tugs, they managed to wrench the fender from the tire.

“You know, there’s a repair shop up the road,” the intoxicated man managed to say. “I’ll show you where. Follow me.”

Kool sighed, knowing that a repair shop would be closed on a Saturday night. “Look,” he replied, “I’ll have to get a new fender and probably a new tire, so I’ll settle for $25.”

Calling him to the side of the road near some trees, the intoxicated man reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of bills. He thumbed through them, telling Kool, “Sorry, but I don’t have ‘nuff small bills to make change.”

Frustrated, Kool backed away from him. “If you’re not interested in settling this, it really doesn’t matter. Either way, you are not fit to drive in your condition and I am going to have to report this to the police.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” the man unsympathetically replied as he put the roll of bills back in his pocket.

Being a proper gentleman, Kool offered the other driver a ride on the running board, back to his Hudson, so that they could make their way to the police station. However, it became clear that the man was too drunk to manage that, so Kool was satisfied that he chose to walk. Kool turned his Chevy around, drove ahead of the Hudson, and waited. Once the intoxicated man reached his car, Kool watched as he fell into the driver’s seat and—remarkably—was able to start up the vehicle and pull forward. Driving by the St. Joseph Auto Camp, he blew the horn, and then passed Kool’s Chevy. Then he blew his horn again, apparently signaling Kool to pass. Kool pulled around him and turned onto State Street in hopes of finding a police officer, but the intoxicated man in the Hudson kept blowing the horn. Unsure whether something was wrong or the man had suddenly reconsidered paying for the damage, Kool stopped about two blocks south of the Caldwell Theater on State Street to find out what his problem was. Laverne urged him to stay in the car, but instead Kool got out and walked up to the driver’s side of the Hudson. The window was already rolled down, and the stench of alcohol wafted out.

“You’ve been blowing the horn the last half mile,” Kool said. “What’s the problem?”

“I’ve been following you, I don’t have any problem,” the driver replied. He then gave a few toots of the horn and smiled as if amused.

Shaking his head, Kool returned to his car, but before he reached it, he saw the Hudson speed down a side street and vanish. He realized that the drunk had duped him.

A simple Christmas shopping trip to St. Joseph had become much more complicated for the Kool family. Now with a dented fender and a drunk driver on the streets, Forrest Kool hoped to notify the authorities so the family could be on their way home once again. He started blowing his horn at the intersection of State Street and Market Street in an attempt to find a policeman and spotted Officer Charles Skelly, just a block away, standing at the corner near Broad Street.

Just as he had finished explaining their misadventure to the police officer, Laverne Kool noticed the Hudson pass by. “There he goes,” she blurted, while pointing to get the officer’s attention.
Skelly looked up in time to recognize a familiar face behind the wheel. He was the new guy in town, Skelly realized. He grabbed hold of Kool’s doorframe, hopped on the running board, and hollered, “Follow him.”

Excited to be on a chase with a police officer, Kool drove north about two blocks on State Street and then came to a stop behind the Hudson at the intersection of Ship Street, where the driver had stopped for a red light. Skelly jumped off Kool’s running board, ran a few car lengths to the Hudson, and climbed up on the driver’s side running board.

Skelly leaned his head into the open window to confront the driver. “Better pay the money and save going to court,” he suggested. This was routine business and Skelly knew the script.

Several people in the area had taken notice of the activity. Pere Marquette Bridge tender Lawrence Terry, standing in front of the Jefferson Poolroom at the corner of Ship and State, had heard Skelly blow his whistle and saw the Hudson come to a stop. St. Joseph police officer Arthur Truhn, also on foot patrol, had watched Skelly jump off the Chevy and run toward the Hudson.1 Phil Daly, Ted Lucker, and Adam Ehrenberg had all seen Skelly climb on the Hudson’s running board. Gustav Getz also saw what was taking place from his vantage point a few blocks away. Just a cop doing his job, it must have appeared to all of them.

Allowing other vehicles to pass, Skelly signaled back at Kool, motioning for him to follow. Skelly would direct the man to the police station in order to sort this all out. When the traffic light turned green at Ship and State, the Hudson and the Chevy turned the corner heading east and then made a right on Main Street heading for the police station. They passed Charles L. Miller’s Garage with Skelly still riding on the running board. The Kools followed behind by about 20 feet. As both vehicles approached the intersection of Main and Broad, just within sight of the Freund Building apartments where Skelly’s gal, Mildred Thar, lived, the traffic light turned red.

Puffs of exhaust mixed with Skelly’s breath as he glanced up toward her apartment. There in the second-floor window he saw her silhouette illuminated by a light. She must have heard the commotion. Mildred saw Charles and waved. Skelly smiled back, keeping his hands on the doorframe, but he lingered for a moment in her smile. Here he was in action for Mildred to see and he must have been proud. As the opposing traffic light transitioned from green to yellow, Skelly redirected his attention to the man behind the wheel. He pointed ahead, instructing him to pull over by the station just beyond the intersection. Mildred walked away from the window, probably impressed by the strapping Skelly.

When the light turned green, traffic began to move north and south, but the Hudson sat idling. Staring straight ahead toward the endless roadway, the driver loosened his grip on the steering wheel. Skelly bent down to look into the vehicle.

From a car length behind, Kool watched the man through the Hudson’s large glass rear window, his head fully visible. What is he waiting for? Kool thought. He then saw the man lean to his left.

With eyes blurred from alcohol, his mind consumed with fear, the driver of the Hudson grabbed for his Colt .45-caliber pistol in the side pocket of the door and took aim at his obstacle to freedom.

Officer Charles Skelly found himself face to face with the barrel of a pistol and the cold eyes of a killer. A secret kept for the last 10 months was about to be revealed along the brick boulevard.


http://in-deptheditions.com/press/?page_id=220