The St. Valentine's Day Massacre Page #5

you can see everything they got.

And fellas, packing a hip flask full of

rotgut whiskey, driving around half-drunk.

You're perfectly right,

Mr. Capone.

I see them in my courtroom every day-

drunk, disorderly, defiant.

I hardly know how to handle them.

What these kids need, Your Honor...

is a good working-over

with a razor strap on their bare behind.

Boys and girls.

If any kid of mine-

Excuse me, Your Honor.

Freshen up your drinks, folks.

I'll be right back.

Hello?

Yeah, yeah, this is Al.

Who?

Oh, hello, Marty.

Now, what's so important

you got to-

Oh-

Get the boys.

What is it, Al?

What's wrong?

Patsy Lolordo.

He's dead.

Murdered him in his own house!

Shot him! His friend!

Al, there's people-

Al.!

All right. Who killed him?

Three men.

Two of Moran's punks...

and Giuseppe Aiello.

Aiello?

Yeah.

What was it you were

saying, Charlie?

Talk to Moran,

pay the guy to lay off?

Give the poor guy a pass?

- Al-

- Listen! Let me tell you something!

I came that close to saying...

"Maybe you're right for

the first time in your life."

But no more, Charlie.

Moran goes.

And so does Aiello.

Him, I take care of.

You see that?

Like an old man.

The union's out to get me. They already made

one try. They came at me with a shotgun.

Next time shoot

a couple back at them.

I'm not a gunman, George.

I just wasn't cut out to be a gunman.

What were you cut out for-

to sell neckties?

Listen, you're in the rackets, brother,

same as the rest of us.

And the kind of dough I'm paying you,

you either fight back or get out.

I thought maybe I could run

one of your speaks for you.

Now, that's my real line.

You know I'm good at it.

I've got no jobs for saloon keepers.

I don't know when I will have.

Either keep the job you've got, or-

Albert Wienshanker,

alias Albert Wienshank-

born Chicago, Illinois,

December 23, 1893.

No criminal record.

Although Wienshank is not a gangster

in the usual sense of the word...

he has been associated with the

North Side Mob for the past three years...

first as an operator of speakeasies,:

now in charge of a non-union cleaning and

dyeing association controlled by Bugs Moran.

Well, Bert, I know it isn't easy for you...

but you do a good job for me,

and I'd sure hate to lose you.

Listen, why don't you go back home,

give it some more thought?

Talk it over with Irene again.

I'll be at the Clark Street garage

Thursday between 10:00 and 10:30.

- Stop by and let me know one

way or the other. - I'll do that.

If I could just get Irene

to quit being so nervous-

- Well, you know how women are.

- Yeah.

I can't thank you enough, George.

Forget it. We're old pals,

remember? Hello?

Mr. Moran?

It's Nick Sorello.

You remember me?

Yeah, I remember you, Nick.

What about it?

Maybe pretty soon

I get some more.

Same stuff, like before.

Same price, okay?

Yeah, I guess we can work something out.

How big a load?

Uh, this I'm not sure.

I do not have delivery yet.

You understand, Mr. Moran?

Yeah, I understand.

How soon do you think it'll be?

Maybe tomorrow.

Or maybe two days.

Okay, call us when you're ready.

I'll have the boys take delivery.

Uh, Mr. Moran, is one thing.

Last time, your boys,

they push me around a little bit.

This time, I do business

with you, okay.

But with your boys, no.

Okay, make it this Thursday morning around

10:
30. Same place. I'll be there myself.

I guarantee you'll get

everything that's coming to you.

That's fine.

Eh, to meet with you is my pleasure.

Thank you, Mr. Moran.

Mr. Moran.

Why don't you step down here? I have a

beautiful LaSalle I think you'll like.

It has a hot water heater,

safety glass, ventilated crank case.

The best self-starter on the market.

Only 16,000 miles.

A lot of pep and zing in this baby.

I don't know- used car and all.

Ah, but a used LaSalle, sir.

That's the big difference.

I'll let you in

on a little something.

- Belonged to a Cook County commissioner.

- Oh?

And I don't have to tell you

how those boys take care of their cars.

- How much?

- Eight hundred dollars.

But for you, 750.

Sold. Provided I can drive her

out of here right now.

Don't see why not.

How'd you like to finance it?

Oh, uh, cash on the line,

if that's okay.

Yes, sir.

Can't argue with cash.

All I need is your name and address

for the bill of sale.

Oh, yeah.

Uh, James Morton.

212 Hubbard Street...

Los Angeles, California.

- Four months in advance.

- Yes, sir. You betcha.

- I'll get you a receipt for this, Mr., uh-

- Uh, James Morton.

I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Morton.

On the evening of February 11...

Angelo Molina,

a second cousin of Joe Aiello's...

buys a train ticket to Los Angeles.

Aware that Al Capone

has discovered his part...

in the murder of Patsy Lolordo...

Aiello will use the ticket

to board the train at the last minute...

in an effort to escape

the vengeance of Capone.

Who says people are getting fed up?

The papers?

These guys on the radio?

What do they know?

Think most guys give a damn

who gets bumped off long as it ain't them?

Listen, I know people.

I make it my business to know people.

They get a big kick

reading in the paper...

where some poor stiff

gets taken for a ride.

Hello?

Yeah, Frank?

Wait for me...

at the barbershop.

Come on, kid.

Stick around, guys.

I gotta go pay a bill.

Board.!

- Who's there?

- Tickets.

Just a minute.

Signor Capone-

Basta.!

Assassino.!

Giuseppe Aiello.

Mrs. Doody?

My friend here and me...

we're looking for a nice front room,

and your sign out there-

Come on in. I can't afford

to heat up the whole street.

- The way they charge for coal nowadays-

- Yeah.

- You in a band or something?

- With an orchestra.

One of the cabarets over on Fullerton.

- The rooms are upstairs.

- Okay.

Oh, this is a charming

place you have here, Mrs. Doody.

I don't want no horn-tootin' in here.

My roomers wouldn't stand

for nothing like that.

Don't you worry about that, ma'am.

We only play these things

when we get paid for it.

Do you want two singles

or just the double?

One room's enough,

as long as it's a front.

If you're gonna be sleeping days...

I'd advise you to take a back room.

The noise on Clark Street isn't to be

believed, what with the buses and the people

I said a front room, okay?

You see, we're out here

from New York, ma'am.

Gets too quiet, we can't go to sleep.

Bet you're the same way.

I'll show you what I got.

Oh, it's a nice room, Mrs. Doody.

We'll take it.

You get a change of linen twice a week.

Bathroom's at the end of the hall.

No visitors after 11:00.

And I don't want no women up here!

I run a respectable place-

Well, don't you worry

about that, ma'am.

We'll move our stuff in tomorrow.

How much do we owe you?

Comes to nine dollars a week.

In advance.

Your receipt and an extra key

will be on the hall table.

What's your name?

He's Mr. White,

and I'm Mr. Johnson.

Hey, lady.

What about a phone?

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