Joe Bruno's Mobsters - Six Volume Set (60 page)

Greenberg told his wife that his little nightly excursion “Kept him from blowing his top.”

On November 22, 1939, Thanksgiving Eve, a gunman blew Greenburg’s top for him.

Just after dark, Tannenbaum picked up the stolen car from the parking lot. Then he drove Siegel and Carbo to Siegel's home to pick up Siegel's Cadillac, which was to be used as a crash car in case the cops, or a nosey bystander, decided to chase
them after the deed was done.

T
he two cars, with Carbo in Siegel's car, then drove to a spot several houses down from Greenberg's residence. They watched, as a few hours later Greenberg emerged from his house, looked carefully both ways (somehow missing the two cars parked down the block), got into his car, and sped away. Carbo then emerged from Siegel's car, slithered down the block and hid in the bushes near Greenberg's house.

Like clockwork, just over 30 minutes later, Greenberg turned the corner of Yucca Street and headed toward 1804 N. Vista De Mar Drive. Greenberg's car passed the two parked cars, but both Tannenbaum and Siegel had slid down in their seats so they could not be seen. A
split second later, Tannenbaum flashed his headlights, just for an instant, alerting Carbo who was waiting in the wings ready to enter stage right into a murder scene.

As Greenberg tried to exit his car, Carbo sped from the shadows and pumped five bullets into Greenberg's head.

Then Carbo raced back to the stolen car and jumped in next to Tannenbaum. Tannenbaum sped away; with Siegel in his crash Cadillac following close behind. (The crash car was always a legitimate registered car, so the driver could claim after a crash, either with a police car, or a civic-minded civilian's car, that he had just lost control of his car.) The two cars rushed to a preordained spot where they met with another co-conspirator waiting in a third car. The third chap turned out to be Champ Segal, a small-time criminal who was always willing to help the big boys with whatever. Segal immediately drove Tannenbaum to San Francisco, where, mission accomplished, Tannenbaum hopped on a plane headed back East.

While Greenberg was being filled with lead, his wife, Ida, was inside their house waiting for her husband's return.
Ida Greenburg was called to testify at the 1940 Harry Greenberg murder trial of Siegel (Carbo was scheduled to be tried at a separate trial, and Tannenbaum, who had turned rat, was ready to fly out to California to testify at both trials).

On the stand, Ida Greenberg said, “I was reading and suddenly I heard a few shots. And because they were so fast and because I heard a car drive away, I thought they were backfires. But finally I got out of bed and went downstairs. I recognized the car and I saw a great amount of blood outside the car. I opened the door and there was my husband. I started screaming for help.”

During Siegel's trial, Abe “Kid Twist” Reles, who had also turned canary and was the corroborating witness the prosecution needed to convict Siegel and later Carbo in California, suddenly flew out of the sixth-story window of the Half Moon Hotel in Coney Island. At the time, Reles was under 24-hour police guard, even while he was sleeping.

However, the official police report said Reles died “trying to escape by lowering himself down the side of the hotel using several bed sheets.”

How this was possible with a policeman supposedly in Reles's bedroom was never fully explained by the police.

Frank Costello later said he had spread $50,000 around the New York City police department to get rid of Reles. It was also rumored; the police guarding Reles were the ones who had actually threw Reles out of the window.

The case against Siegel also went “out the window” with Reles, and the charges against Siegel were dismissed due to lack of evidence.

Carbo was tried in California a few months later, but due to the lack of corroborating evidence of Tannenbaum's testimony by Reles, his case ended in a hung jury. Carbo was set to be tried a second time, but according to prosecutor Burton Turkus, New York City District Attorney William O'Dwyer, who had Tannenbaum under wraps, refused to allow Tannenbaum to travel back to California to testify at Carbo's second trial. As a result, the charges against Carbo were dropped
, and no one was ever convicted of the murder of Harry “Big Greenie” Greenberg.

Still,
Siegel had a stone in his shoe, and that stone was named Sholem Bernstein.

There was a system the National Crime Commission had in place for settling matters of dispute. Bernstein couldn't be touched by Siegel unless Siegel had the permission of the boss of Bernstein's New York City territory. The New York City bosses considered Bernstein one of their best men and refused to harm a hair on his head. But Siegel was adamant that Bernstein must die, so this compelled Siegel to fly to New York City in order to plead his case in person for the death penalty for Bernstein.

The National Crime Commission’s justice system worked as follows:

Every man who was targeted to die by someone, was allowed to have his case pleaded in a
makeshift court, usually by someone with pull within the organization. The man who took Bernstein's part was none other than Abe Reles, who had not yet turned canary and was still very much alive. As was shown when he took the stand against his old friends, Reles had a way with words, and he could be very convincing when he got the urge, which considering his career, was quite often.

The sit-down took place in midtown hotel room, with a nine-member panel deciding on the fate of Bernstein, of which there was no appeal process in place. Siegel pleaded his case first, firmly stat
ing that Bernstein was on a job and not only had disobeyed direct orders, but had fled the scene before his job was completed. Siegel pointed out that the penalty for Bernstein’s actions was death. Period.

Now it was Reles'
s turn.

Reles began by saying he was calling no witnesses. He
also admitted that his client, Bernstein, had indeed fled California before he was able to steal the much-needed second murder car. Then Reles went on to explain why his client was completely innocent of all the charges.

Reles told the panel, “The same day Ben gave him the contract, Sholem got word from New York that his mama is going to cash in. Sholem is a good boy. His mama is dying; he figures he should go there. You all know how a mama is. It makes it easier for her to go if her boy is sitting there by the bed, saying nice things – like he loves her and she is getting better and like that.”

“So Sholem doesn't even think of a contract. He don't think of nothing. He lams it out of L.A. and hustles home to be with his mother when she checks out. He drives day and night. All he wants is to hold her hand. He is a good boy.”

Reles put his chin up into the air and raised his voice an octave. “And that gentlemen,” he said, “that is why Sholem left town. Not on account of ducking the contract. But on account his mama is kicking off.”

When Reles had finished, there was not a dry eye in the room; not even Ben Siegel's.

Bernstein was unanimously acquitted, and Ben Siegel flew back to California, only to have his own murder contract approved
by the National Crime Syndicate and summarily executed on June 20, 1947.

G
uinan, Texas -- Queen of the Nightclubs

She was a cowgirl
who could shoot a gun with the best of them, a singer of sorts, a better actress than a singer, and a gal-pal of the biggest and meanest mobsters of her time. Thanks to her underworld connections, Texas Guinan will forever be known as the “Queen of the Nightclubs.”

Mary Louise Cecilia "Texas" Guinan was born on January 12, 1884, in Waco, Texas. She was the daughter of Irish-Canadian immigrants
, Michael and Bessie (née Duffy) Guinan. Called “Mamie” at the time, Guinan attended Loretta Convent Catholic School, and she sang in the church choir. When she was 16, her parents moved to a ranch in Denver, Colorado. It was on her father's ranch where Guinan learned how to ride, rope, and tame wild horses.

A year after her family arrived in Denver, Guinan won a scholarship to the School
of the Dramatic Arts in Chicago where she studied for the next two years. When she returned home, Guinan graduated from the illustrious Hollins School for Girls.

But as much as she loved singing and dancing, Guinan was more enamored with the Wild West Shows that frequently appeared in the Denver area. Practicing at her father's farm and at local shooting ranges, Guinan became an expert with a six-shooter. Soon, Guinan was appearing in Wild West Shows, and in rodeos
, which were then called “roundups.” In 1904, while she was staring in a Wild West Show in Denver, Guinan met and married John J. Moynahan, a newspaper artist of very little note. That marriage lasted five years, and it ended when Moynahan took a newspaper job in Boston and Guinan relocated to New York City to begin, albeit slowly at first, her unparalleled career.

When she arrived in New York City, Guinan was nearly broke. She lived in a seedy two-dollar a-week hotel in Washington Square and spent her daylight hours scouring the offices of casting agents looking for a job.

During her marriage to Moynahan, Guinan had learned the art of illustrating to add to her many skills. That came in handy, when one day as she was window-shopping in Manhattan, Guinan spotted a Great Arrow automobile in a car dealership display window, which sold for the astronomical sum of $4,500. At that time there were only 8,000 cars built in the United States. Guinan emptied out her pockets, and she came up with enough cash to buy paper and a few pencils. She then started to sketch the Great Arrow, and when she was finished she was able to sell the illustration to an advertising agency for the fancy sum of $500, more money than most people made in a year in those days.

With her newly-found cash, Guinan upgraded her digs, and she was able to persuade a theatrical agent to take her on as a client.
Almost immediately, Guinan got a part in a play entitled
The Snow Man
. Her performance in
The Snow Man
was so critically acclaimed, Guinan caught the eye of Charles Dana Gibson, who immortalized in his “Gibson Girls” pen-and-ink drawings of what he thought the “perfect woman” should look like. Gibson, highlighting the 5-foot-6-inch Guinan's hourglass figure and long shapely legs, sketched several drawings of Guinan. Guinan used these drawings as a springboard to a Broadway career, where she appeared on stage, sometimes in a basket above the stage, singing such inane ditties as
Pansies Always Bring Thoughts of You.

Guinan was now a star on Broadway, and she also appeared in several Vaudeville shows, showcasing her shapely figure and somewhat interesting singing talents. Her most famous gig was when she was one of the stars in the 1913 Shubert B
rother's Broadway extravaganza
Passing Show
, which also starred Willie and Eugene Howard, Trixie Friganza, and Charlotte Greenwood.

Due to her success in the
Passing Show
, Guinan was approached by an enterprising weight-loss promoter. Eager to make a buck any way she could, Guinan allowed the weight-loss promoter, who ran ads in
Variety
offering a “Marvelous New Treatment for Fat Folks,” to use her shapely body in an ad, in which Guinan stated, “I was made a star of the
Passing Show
on account of my glorious figure... and mind you, I was doomed to oblivion just a short time before when I tipped the scales at 204 pounds.”

That was a slight fib, since Guinan never weighed more than 136 pounds in her entire life.

While Guinan was basking in the limelight of Broadway, out west in Hollywood a new phenomenon was taking place. It was called the cowboy movie, and its biggest star was William S. Hart, known as the “King of the Cowboys.” Because of her unique abilities, Guinan was the perfect woman to segue into cowboy movies.

“I could twirl a lariat, rope a steer, ride, shoot, and beat any tobacco-
chewin' cowpoke,” Guinan said.

Guinan's big break came when she was performing at the Winter Garden Theater.

“We poor girls were always looking for some new stunt whereby to distinguish ourselves,” Guinan later said. “So when I asked the manager (of the Winter Garden) if I might ride a horse down the runway instead of merely dancing down, he said 'All right if you don't kill too many customers.' I admit most of them got under their seats when they saw me ride my snow-white charger thundering down the runway above their heads, all dressed up in black lace chaps and swinging a lariat. After the show, the movie man signed me up for a two-reel western. And what a time I had!”

The movie, released in 1917, was called
The Wildcat.
At that time, it was one and done for Guinan as a cowgirl in movies. So after shooting
The Wildcat
, Guinan traveled back to New York City and began appearing in Vaudeville again.

However, Harry Aitken, who owned the Triangle Film Corporation in Yonkers, saw potential in Guinan to become the female William S. Hart. It's not clear who approached whom about the idea, but in 1917 Aitken signed Guinan to do a series of two-reel cowboy movies. In October and November of 1917, Guinan
starred in three cowboy movies:
Get Away Kate, Fuel of Life
and
The Stainless Barrier
. Guinan followed in 1918 with
The Gun Woman, The Love Brokers,
and
The Hellcat.