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f meet MR. \Vih~ 2W M‘GURN The once powerful and blood-thirsty Genna brothers were now only a bloody memory in Little Italy, but the doom which had hovered over them had not been dispelled by successive blast of gunfire. It remained, casting its long and sinister shadows over that accursed domain, in the persons of John Scalice and Albert Anselmi,atill in the hands of the jailers, and still being tossed from one court to another by adept attorneys who were being paid for every gppearance at a bar of justice and ready and anxious to make as many appearances as possible. The “alky” cookers over on the West Side were paying and paying and paying. Even honest men over there were contributing to the bet- tomiess fund in order, so the “coliectors” said, that no ignorant helpless man of Italian blood might be discrimi- nated against because of his nationality. Ah! What a grisly crew these collectors were. Henry Spingola, a brother-in-law of the Gennas who kept himself clean through a long and honorable legal career despite his relationship with the Gennas, soon found out that he was paying thousands of dollars to blackmailers, extortionists, bombers and killers, and that he had been unwise in con- tributing at all. Henry decided that he would play no more with Orazzio Tropea, known pleasantly as “The Scourge,” or Vito Bascone, or Eddie Baldielli, “The Eagle,” or Tony Finalli. And so Henry Spingola, despite the utmost preeau- tions he took with his life, was placed on the spot, which is stepping into a coffin. His murder on Januray 10, 1926, focused attention again on troubled Little Italy and two weeks later, before the police had assembled a plausible theory, Chicago strap-hangers gasped at front pages smok- ing with the murders of Augustino and Antonio Moreci, wealthy and respectable Italians. All this had been forseen by the Italians of integrity and wealth on the West Side who understood far better than the police the methods of their conscienceless countrymen, and they had taken steps to combat it in their own way. And this brings us, for the first time, to a sleek, athletic, well-mannered little Italian named James Gebardi, the son of an “alky” cooker who had been murdered long before by Signor Tropea, “The Scourge.” Young Gebardi, at that time, spent most of his time around the Maxwell Police Station where he was plenty efficient with his fists md n. often appeared in the West ao _ 4 rt ehoure 2 #h Side boxing shows as an amateur. A few days after his father had been placed on the spot young Gebardi appeared at the station in a highly emotional state with a letter, written in Italian and signed with the dreaded black-hand, The letter ad- vised Young Gebardi, whose popularity with the police was looked upon with dis- favor by certain of his men toe vid the town countrymen, to rid the town of himself, to disappear; the penalty would be death if he failed to obey. Lieu- tenant William Stapleton advised the terrified Gebardi to go away for a while. And Gebardi went away, adopted another name, and became a professional prize-fighter. (36) But now he was back. He waa prosperous. He drove a fine Cadillac automobile, and he called himself Jack McGurn. Where had the money for ail this “front” come from? One of the wealthy and influential Italians was be- hind Jack now. This individual whom we shall not name had revealed tc Jack the name of his father’s slayer, and Jack quickly agreed to the proposals held out to him. And 56, on February 15, the long and terrible career of Orazzio Tropea came to an end. He fell on the spot where McGurn’s father had died, and on the same spot where suave Henry Spingola had come to his pnhappy end. In quick succession three other “collectors” died. On February 21, Vito Bascone walked to the spot which had been marked for hia death. On February 23, Eddie Baldielli, known as “The Eagle” met a similar fate, and on March 7, Tony Finalli was murdered. Thirteen days later another ambitious Italian’s death that of Samuzzo “Samoots" Amatuna, interrupted the effi- cient reprisals against collectors for the Scalice-Anselmi defense fund. Samoots had lived long and had prospered aS aii overseer of the “alky” cookers in the employee of the Genna brothers. He had mourned the old days when his employers were alive and for several months preceding his death had been busy in a grim effort to rally the sadly depleted “cookers” and to again stabilize the “alky” busi- ness. Everything was going smoothly when an earlier sin found him out. Samoota had hi-jacked a truck load of booze belonging to “Klondike” O'Donnell. The booze, billed as paint, had, in turn been re-hijacked by two tough youths who loafed around BootleggersCorner in the Valley District, and the rage of Samoote knew no bounds. For months he talked at the top of his voice on all occasions about what he would do to Wallie Quinlan and Bummy Goidstein, neither of whom belonged to any certain gang organization, On March 19, Samoots dropped into his favorite barber shop where he spent a great deal of time. Samoots was the Beau Brummel of Little Italy and many amusing tales are told about his fastidiousness and his sartorial splendor; he owned more suits of clothing than the King of Spain, he had «4 great passion for socks and shirts and often made a great nuisance of himself by insisting on supervising the laundering of them. A dozen customers lounged in chairs while Samoots, lying back in the chair, garrulously in- structed the barber as to how the shaving should be effected. When the towel was spread over Samoots’ visage two men, Wellie Quinlan and Bummy Goldstein, stepped into the wee cod aacialsle, cao to Fd th owe nee mwagte Toi and quickly seated themselves near the door. Samoots arose presently from the chair, stepped to the hall-tree and was busily engaged with a gaudy tie when, through a mirror, he saw his enemies. But it was too late, and before Samoots could reach for the gun he carried in an especially created, leather-lined pocket, Bummy end Wallie let him have it. And Samoots, fell dying to the floor with two bullets in his body. He died before he could get the correct knot in his tie. A few months later, Quinlan and Goldstein were killed. Lo... With the elimination of Samoots from the scene the “alky” cookers lost their best chance of a restoration of the Genna house, unless Pete or Jim should return which seemed extremely probla- matical especially now. The last of the vicious horde of “collectors” te die at the hands of the smartly dressed killer was Joseph Nerone, known as Spano the Cavalier, whose name had been whispered by Anthony Genna ore he died. The police had been looking for “The Cavalier” ever since they had overheard that whisper, but when they found him he was cold and dead on a marble slab in the morgue, and an X marked the spot where the new homicide artists had found him. \