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Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Knock yer Block off

Was that? You wannanother story bout the ol days. Well awright, let me think on er....Oh yeah,  it was eighty-two years ago today believe it or not when this feller by name of Harry Block got his. Who was Harry? Well Harry was a, was a, was the word?... an associate, that'll work, of Owney Madden.

Now Harry, he owned a piece of the Cotton Club and the Silver Slipper. Thems was popular nightclubs back then. Harry was also known to bootleg some as well. Police figured this is what probly got Harry dead.

Way I figure it Block didn't know he was a marked man. You see, he picked his wife up at Seventh Ave and 47th Street and they had some eats at the restaurant at the Paramount hotel. After that they went to a late show at the Capitol Theater. Then to Dave's Blue Room for more food and finally caught a taxi for home. Harry and the Missus lived at the Sherman Square Apartments at 173 West 73rd Street. What? How do I know this?I know this cause I was the doorman. You want the story or don't you? Fine.

It was three in the A.M when the Blocks arrived. I unlocked the door and escorted them to the elevator. I got on and stood by the control panel. Mrs. Block stepped in and got behind me. Then Harry stepped in and turned around and faced the front. Just as the doors was shuttin' two fellers appears out of nowhere and each of them got a pistol in each hand. One of them yells at Harry who, seeing the pistols, let out a scream and throwed up his arm over his face. The gunmen let loose a thunderous barrage. Seemed to go on forever. Police said later was twenty three shots fired. A number of them come to rest in Harry's neck and forearm.

The fellas with the guns run outta the building and jump in a tan sedan. I wanted to call an ambulance but Mrs. Block said "No it'll bring the police." I thought that might be a good idea myself but I followed her lead and we put Harry in cab and she took him to the hospital herself. Diddint make no difference no how, Harry was dead.

2 comments:

John DuMond said...

And the poor cab driver couldn't get the blood stains out of the upholstery. And he used Bob Ami!

Pat Downey said...

The perils of being a cabby during Prohibition.