Knock yer Block off

Harry Block, an associate of Owney Madden’s, who owned a piece of both the Cotton Club and the Silver Slipper nightclubs and was also a bootlegger got his on this date back in 1930.

It appears from his movements on the night of his death that Block didn't know he was a marked man. He picked up his wife and they went out for dinner, which was followed by the late show at the Capitol Theater. After the show they went to another restaurant and finally caught a taxi for the ride home to their apartment building. Not really trying to stay out of sight.

At 3:00am the Blocks arrived at their apartment building and the doorman unlocked the front door and escorted them onto the elevator to take them up to their 15th floor apartment. Mrs. Block stepped in and to the side behind the doorman who was by the controls. Mr. Block stepped in and turned around to face the door and just as the doors were shutting two men, each brandishing two pistols, appeared out of nowhere. One of the gunmen yelled an insult at Block who, seeing the pistols, let out a scream and instinctively threw up his arm to protect his face as the gunmen let loose a barrage of shots.

Block took lead in the neck and forearm. The gunmen ran out and escaped in a tan sedan that had been waiting for them. The doorman wanted to call an ambulance but Mrs. Block said no since it would attract the police so instead Harry was loaded into a cab and taken to the hospital where he was pronounced dead.

Draw!

Murder amongst the Irish continued on this date in 1927 when Timothy Looman was walking on the lower Westside and 21 yr oldThomas O’Brien, said to have been a “gun toter” for the Cry Baby gang, (who was the Cry Baby gang you ask? Why the answer to that can be found in Bad Seeds in the Big Apple) approached him from the opposite direction. When the two men were about thirty feet away from each other, each pulled out a gun and began firing in true old west fashion.

Witness’s said up to thirty shots were fired and Looman collapsed on the corner (not unlike Rocky Racoon who collapsed "in the corner" da-da-da..) but before dropping dead he managed to hit O'Brien.

Severely wounded, O’Brien tried to run away but only got as far as the St. Bernard’s Roman Catholic Church, before crumpling to the sidewalk. A Monsignor and a priest (who bore striking resemblences to Pat O'Brien and Spencer Tracy) were the first ones to reach O’Brien and after viewing his wounds, administered the last rights, which was good cause he died the following day.

Two Gun saga III

When we last left off Crowley had shot and wounded Detective Shaedel before making a getaway. He managed to elude the police while banging around the city and one of his hangouts was a taxi-dance joint called the Primrose Dance Palace. There he met a hulking lump named Rudolph Duringer and the two became pals.

Duringer was hot for a dancer at the Primrose named Virginia Brannen and would often buy up all her tickets so he was the only one with whom she would dance. Seventy-nine years ago this morning at 1:00am Duringer, or Fat, as he was called showed up at the Primrose with a friend and his date and hooked up with Brannen.

At some point Crowley arrived and after a couple of hours he and the two couples left. After hitting a few speakeasies and then breakfast they went for a drive. Crowley was behind the wheel with the one couple dozing in the front seat while Fat and Brannen were in the back playing around. During the ride Brannen let Fat know that she was going to marry some other guy. What was a jealous knucklehead to do? Duringer pulled out his gun and shot her.

The shot woke up the couple in the front seat. Brannen pleaded to be taken to a hospital and the couple in the front asked to be let out at a drug store. Crowley pulled over and let the couple out and told them he'd be back shortly.

Since Crowley was wanted by the police he didn't want to take Brannen to the hospital so he pulled over by a seminary and he and Duringer tossed the still alive girl over a wall into some bushes where she eventually died. He then returned to the drug store and picked up the other couple.

After a few days of investigative work detectives knew that Crowley and Duringer were behind Brannen's death and Two Gun was now the hottest criminal in the City.

Tommy Lee gets busted. (no not that one)

Ninety-nine years ago today Tom Lee, the unofficial “Mayor of Chinatown” and head of the On Leong Tong was arrested while eating his lunch. The charge? Gasp! Why there was gambling going on in that (at the time) tiny little district encompassing Mott, Doyers and Pell streets.

The police were given evidence that Lee was paid tribute to the tune of $15 per gambling table in his bailiwick each week and that there were 95 tables. Not bad. Where did the police get their info? From Mock Duck, Lee’s chief rival and top dog in the Hip Sing tong.

It also came out that Lee didn’t actually keep all of that gambling loot either, that some of it was, surprise!, kicked upstairs to politicians. My, my who’d a thunk it.

Mock Duck may have thought he was being pretty foxy but he was also arrested. Turns out during a previous arrest for an old murder charge he had promised to leave town if given bail. So he was released and came back and apparently forgot about his promise.

Both Tong leaders were forced to sit down for a forty-five minute lecture from the Police Commissioner in which they were told that gambling in Chinatown had to stop and that they had to stop carrying guns around as well. Both Tong men assured the Commissioner that his wishes would be granted and they walked out together smiling as if they were old chums.

Beadlemania

Not since the Dalton Brothers were shot to pieces in Coffeyville, Kansas have three siblings fell so fast before an enemies gun until the Lawlor brothers caught lead on this date back in 1930 . The Lawlors were not trying to rob a bank when they were shot down however, not that they were above banditry, the brothers all had police records and were not unknown to prison, but they in fact were toiling in the Hells Kitchen speakeasy owned by their brother in-law Bartley Cronin when the end came.

Twenty-three year old Lawrence was behind the bar when gangster in training David Beadle entered the tavern and began waving a pistol around. Knowing the violent history of the Lawlor Brothers, the customers began to inch their way to the door as Lawrence began to holler at twenty-two year old Beadle. Beadle began gloating about his toughness, which only enraged Lawrence who came out from behind the bar and went for the gunman.

Beadle pointed his gun at Lawrence’s heart and pulled the trigger. Lawrence dropped in the doorway separating the bar and the back room. Hearing the shot, brothers Michael and William came out of the rear room and, seeing their prostrate brother, jumped over him and rushed Beadle who quickly fired off another fusillade. Three of the bullets found their mark, Michael was hit in both the head and chest and William was critically wounded in the stomach. Beadle quickly exited but was later picked up by the police.

Lawrence was dead before the authorities arrived and Michael, age thirty, died at the hospital. Thirty-three year old William was also taken to the hospital and eventually recovered. While there he refused to answer any questions, which didn’t surprise the police because on the previous August 23, he was shot in the groin and refused to say anything. Michael, who was known as “Bootsy”, had been a suspect in the killing of a police officer in 1921 but was released

Writer's block? No time.

Who knows how prolific a writer can be when he applies himself? The author of the Shadow knows..heh-heh-heh

I don't normally talk about writing but came across something I thought the writers who stop by could appreciate. In 1931 Walter Gibson signed on to write four 60K word novels for a new detective pulp called the Shadow. Seems like writing four short novels a year would be a big task, but then the first two proved so successful the publishers decided to make it a monthly magazine so now Gibson (who wrote under the pen name Maxwell Grant) had to come up with twelve 60K word stories a year and this is on a type writer don't forget.

One would think that Gibson had absolutely no time for anything else but he actually finished the dozen stories ahead of time, which worked out well because by the end of the year the magazine, now uber popular, went twice-monthly. So for the second year he had to crank out twenty-four novels. 24x60k = 1,440,000 words a year, and he did this for a number of years.

Over the course of the periodical's eighteen year run he wrote 282 Shadow novels. Wow. I suspect writer's block wasn't in his vocabulary, nor could he have waited around for the correct mood to hit.

Round 'em up

On April 10, 1922 a gaggle of gunmen stopped in at Benjamin Sandberg’s fur coat store at 1817 Madison Ave. and helped themselves to $28,000 worth of furs. Not having any shooting irons of their own Sandberg and his three associates stood idly by as the inventory was loaded into a car and carried off.

But the joke was on the bandits for they were magic pelts and eighty-eight years ago tonight there was a full moon and the animals came back to life and ate…no, actually what happened was that detectives got the low down on the mob and four of them went to the apartment the desperados shared.

The arrests were rather simple. One detective knocked on the door and one of the yeggs answered it. When the door was opened the other three detectives rushed in with guns drawn. Four guys and two girls were in the apartment and lined up against the wall. While two detectives kept the bandidos covered the other two searched the place and found two guns under the bed, two in the dumb waiter and two in a frying pan out on the fire escape.

While discovering the last two guns a detective saw a red car pull up and four smartly dressed fellers get out and enter the apartment building. Moments later the doorbell rang. A couple of armed detectives opened the door and immediately arrested the new comers.

Mack Sennett bought the rights to what happened next. The whole entourage entered the buildings elevator and went to the first floor but since there was so many of them the cable snapped and they crashed into the basement. Nobody was hurt but they were trapped for quarter of an hour until the landlord could get them out.