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Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The Purples lose two

On this night way back in 1933 Abe Axler and Eddie Fletcher, the "Siamese Twins", of Detroit's Purple gang were found in the back of a sedan in Bloomfield Hills, MI. Both had been riddled with bullets. The "Siamese Twins" label came from the fact that they were always together, both were originally from Brooklyn and made there way to Detroit in the early 1920s where their talents with the gun helped them rise in the ranks as well as earn the titles of Detroit's Public Enemies #1 & #2. (Mommas Axler and Fletcher must have been quite proud.)

As Prohibition was coming to an end so to was Abe's and Eddie's use to the gang. They spent their last night together (naturally) drinking with a couple of other guys, supposedly fellow Purples, leading to the thought they may have been killed by their own gang. The killers were softies, after the deed they clasped one of Abe's hands with one of Eddie's. Together in death as well as life.

Eddie & Abe

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Dead Men Write No Tales deux

Eighty-two years ago this evening Francis Fabrizzio sat in the Brooklyn apartment of his parents. In addition to a couple of siblings was a lawyer who was helping Francis out with a literary project. You see, Mr. Fabrizzio was a life long bad guy. Two of his younger brothers were both killed by gangster guns and Francis decided the best way to get back at the underworld was to expose them and so, to that end, he wrote a book.
    As the Fabrizzio family dined, the lawyer punched the typewriter transcribing Francis' memoir.  After a bit there was a knock at the door. The senior Mr. Fabrizzio answered. Three guys flipped some badges and said they wanted to talk to his son. Frances was summoned and asked to step into the hallway. If you guessed that the trio weren't really detectives good for you. Moments after Frances entered the hall the family heard four shots. Mr. and Mrs. Fabrizzio rushed to find their third son claimed by the gun....oh, the manuscript? Coppers took it, evidence you know.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Pulpy goodness

Death was eventually disqualified and barred from racing for making opponents burst into flames. His dreams of being a famous jockey dashed, Mr. Reaper went back to harvesting souls. He also made a passive income as a bee keeper.

Can only wonder what is happening down the track as the spectator and the cop seem to care less about the spectacle in front of them...and yes that is the do-nothing Phantom Detective passively looking on as usual.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Baby Joe has left and gone away, hey hey hey

Today marks the 85th anniversary of the passing of "Baby" Joe Flanagan. The youngest of New York City's the "Four Fierce Flanagan's ", Joe was the second brother to die by the gun. Brother Tom preceded him by seven years.
      It was Sunday when Joe was eliminated from the underworld and it was a churchgoer who found him. As the pious one was leaving his apartment he saw Joe lying in the hallway and thought he was sleeping off a drunk. When the man returned after the services the “drunk” was still there so the man took a closer look and realized that the “drunk” was in fact quite dead.
     Not quite sure why the dumped Joe in a hallway but then again not quite sure why a lot of these guys did what they did.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Dead men write no tales

On this date back in 1930 New York gangster Frank Calibrese and his cohorts were involved in a shooting with rivals. Frank was hit by five shots, one of which smashed into his mouth and cut off his tongue. His partners loaded him into their car and drove him to the house of one of Frank’s distant relatives, Dr. Edward Caselnova. Realizing he couldn't do much for him the doctor brought Frank to the hospital where police questioned him. Since he was missing part of his tongue Frank could only communicate with pencil and paper. In response to police questions Frank wrote down his name, address and the location where he was shot. Then he died.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Cohen may have been Lucky, Rich, not so much

On this date back in 1932 gangster Richard Fishman, said to have three notches on his shooting iron, was standing in the front parlor of Lucky Cohen's Chicago gambling joint, which doubled as a cigar store. Just as regular joe Jack Magdal entered, to either buy a cigar or gamble, a burst of machine-gun fire spat forth and Fishman dropped dead Magdal fell with a bullet in the arm. I suspect his stogie was on the house.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Extra! Extra!! Read all about it!!!!


The DGIS Institute is pleased to report that long time crime blogger/author John DuMond has published a true crime short on the 1945 Eastern State Prison break. Mr. DuMond is a top notch researcher, writer and all around swell guy. He comments regularly here and has even treated us to a post in the past.

Under The Wall is a fun, quick read. If you enjoy true, vintage crime stories this is for you. It is currently available on Amazon and Smashwords and will be coming soon to Kobo, Apple, B&N etc.