The first family.

Terror, extortion, revenge, murder, and the birth of the American mafia.

by Mike Dash.

ROGUES' GALLERY[image]THE M MORELLO F FAMILYGIUSEPPE MORELLO aka "The Clutch Hand," "Little Finger," and "One Finger Jack." Founder and leader of the first Mafia family in New York and "boss of bosses" of the American Mafia until 1910. Born in Corleone, Sicily, in 1867; suspected of murder and cattle rustling there and found guilty of counterfeiting. Arrived in the United States in 1892; arrested on charges of counterfeiting in 1900 and in connection with the Barrel Murder in 1903; lead suspect in the unsolved disappearance and probable murder of a teenage servant girl; New York Police Department (NYPD) rap sheet shows further arrests on suspicion of kidnapping and bomb throwing; organized extensive extortion ring and numerous rackets; suspected of involvement in up to sixty murders. Imprisoned 1910-20; on his release was sentenced to death by the Mafia's general a.s.sembly. Overturned death sentence and became an influential adviser to the second generation of Mafia bosses. Murdered August 1930 by rival Mafiosi.MARIA MARVELESI Morello's first wife; born Corleone, Sicily; immigrated to the United States 1893; mother of two sons, both named Calogero. Died 1898.LINA MORELLO Nee Nicolina Salemi. Morello's second wife; born Corleone, immigrated to the United States 1903 and married Morello the same year; four children. Complicit in various criminal schemes; hid Mafia correspondence and extortion letters in her child's diapers. Outlived her husband by thirty-seven years.IGn.a.z.iO LUPO Palermo Mafioso better known as Lupo the Wolf. Immigrated to the United States around 1898; married Morello's sister. Found guilty of murder in Sicily; suspect in the murder of Giuseppe Catania in Brooklyn, 1902; suspect in the Barrel Murder case, 1903; NYPD rap sheet shows further arrests for arson, sending threatening letters, kidnapping, and issuing death threats. Set up Mafia money-laundering schemes. Ran chain of grocery stores; bankrupted 1908; convicted of counterfeiting 1910 and sentenced to thirty years. Paroled 1920. Sentenced to death with Morello by the Mafia's general a.s.sembly and fled to Sicily; returned 1922 and ran fruit and bakery rackets; suspect in a 1930 murder; charged with another killing, 1931; rearrested 1936 and returned to jail to serve out the remainder of his 1910 counterfeiting sentence. Released 1947 and died three weeks later.

-GIUSEPPE BOSCARINI Corleone man who sold Morello counterfeits in Pennsylvania.GIUSEPPE CALICCHIO aka "the Professor." Neapolitan printer hired for Morello family counterfeiting operation. Long experience of forgery in Italy; printed fake banknotes for impoverished n.o.ble families. Arrested January 1910, sentenced to seventeen years.GIUSEPPE CATANIA Brooklyn grocer and Mafia counterfeiter; a.s.sociate of Lupo's; talked while drunk and found on the Brooklyn waterfront with his throat cut and his naked body stuffed into a potato sack.ANTONIO CECALA Sicilian who headed Morello family's insurance rackets; proud professional arsonist; became head of the family counterfeiting operation 1908; arrested and tried 1910, sentenced to fifteen years; shot dead 1928 while running a crooked insurance business.SALVATORE CInA A violent bandit in Sicily and a farmer in upstate New York; provided base for Morello counterfeiting operation and sold counterfeit bills throughout the United States. Arrested and tried 1910, sentenced to fifteen years.SALVATORE CLEMENTE aka "Dude." Sicilian counterfeiter, member of the Stella Fraute gang and confidant of the Terranova brothers. Long prison sentences in 1895 and 1902. Arrested again 1910 and turned informant, becoming Flynn's key man inside the Morello family.ANTONIO COMITO aka "the Sheep." Calabrian printer coerced into working for the Morello gang. Printed thousands of dollars' worth of counterfeit bills, 1908-1909. Arrested January 1910, turned informant, and gave evidence leading to conviction of Morello and eight other members of his family. Placed in protective custody by Flynn; left New York for South America 1911 and became a successful businessman.JOE DIMARCO Sicilian gambling lord whose alliance with the Terranova brothers turned sour. Murdered on Nick Terranova's orders, July 1916.GIUSEPPE DI PRIEMO Morello counterfeiter arrested in Yonkers, December 1902, and sentenced to four years in jail. Attempts by his brother-in-law Benedetto Madonia to free him led to the Barrel Murder, 1903. Returned to Italy on his release; conflicting stories have him dying en route or in a shooting in Carini just after landing; either way a likely victim of Morello's.JOSEPH FANARO Striking gangster-red-haired, stood six feet four. Arrested in connection with the Barrel Murder and suspected of luring the victim, Benedetto Madonia, to his death. Suspect in the murder and dismemberment of Salvatore Marchiani, 1907; admitted to playing cards with him hours before his death. Fell out with Terranova brothers circa 1911. Murdered by members of the Morello and Mineo families, November 1913.GIUSEPPE FONTANA Influential Sicilian involved in the 1893 Notarbartolo murder; arrived in New York circa 1901 and joined Morello family. Murdered by gunmen from two Mafia families after falling out with the Terranova brothers, November 1913.MESSINA GENOVA Butcher and partner of Lupo in a Prince Street saloon. Arrested in connection with the Barrel Murder, 1903, and thought by the police to have administered Madonia's deathblow. Brother in New Orleans was also a Mafioso. Moved to Ohio and murdered there 1908.VINCENZO GIGLIO Cina's brother-in-law, a Mafioso from Tampa who was related by marriage to the important Trafficante family. Convicted of counterfeiting 1909; died in prison 1914.IPPOLITO GRECO Saloon owner and partner in the "Murder Stable" who supplied the gunmen who murdered Barnet Baff. Had rivalry with Tom Lomonte. Shot ten times by unknown a.s.sailants in his stable, 1915.PIETRO INZERILLO Cafe owner in Little Italy; supplied barrel in which Benedetto Madonia was interred, 1903. Shot three times by unknown a.s.sailants in New York, late 1908; survived. Fled to Milan late 1909 to avoid arrest and later involved in counterfeiting in Italy.VITO LADUCA aka Vito Longo. Born Carini, Sicily; served in Italian navy. Butcher and extortionist in New York. "Dread bulwark of the Black Hand." Arrested on charges of pa.s.sing counterfeit notes, Pittsburgh, 1903. Suspect in the disappearance and probable murder of Jasper Barcia, 1903. Arrested in connection with the Barrel Murder. Chief suspect in the kidnapping of Antonio Mannino, 1904; working in Pittsburgh, circa 1906; returned rich to Carini circa 1907; shot dead there February 1908.SAM LOCINO "Queer-pusher" who sold Morello notes in Pittston, Pennsylvania, and provided the tip that led to Flynn convicting the Morello leadership six months later. Shot twice in the head soon after Morello's conviction.FORTUNATO LOMONTE Sicilian gang leader; owned feed store on East 108th Street near the infamous Murder Stable; installed as joint boss of the Morello family circa 1911 on the Clutch Hand's imprisonment. Largely ineffective; known as a conciliator. Shot dead by unknown gunman, 1914.TOM LOMONTE Brother of Fortunato, took over Morello family with him in 1911. Shot dead by hired gunman Antonio Impoluzzo, 1915.BENEDETTO MADONIA High-ranking salesman of counterfeit Morello notes, 1902; sent to Pittsburgh to help free arrested members of the Morello family early 1903. Brother-in-law of Giuseppe Di Priemo; sent a thousand dollars to Morello to pay for his legal aid; on complaining of lack of backing from the Clutch Hand was lured to New York and became the victim in the infamous Barrel Murder, April 1903.CALOGERO MORELLO Giuseppe Morello's eldest son; a Mafioso at seventeen, murdered in April 1912 as part of the Morellos' vendetta with the Madonias.TOMMASO PETTO aka "Petto the Ox;" real name Luciano Perrini. Born Carini, Sicily; strongman and enforcer for Morello family. Arrested in connection with Barrel Murder, 1903, and was the only suspect charged with murder; released without trial 1904 and moved to Pittston, Pennsylvania. Murdered there October 1905 by unknown killers.NICK SYLVESTER Morello bomb thrower, wagon driver, and errand boy arrested 1909 in connection with the Morello counterfeiting ring, sentenced to fifteen years. Became Secret Service informant in jail.CIRO TERRANOVA aka "the Artichoke King." Middle Terranova brother. Worked as a plasterer while organizing family vegetable racket. Married, ten children. Plotted murder of inconvenient witnesses; arranged murder of Joe DiMarco, 1916, and took over his gambling interests; tried on a.s.sociated murder charge 1918 and acquitted on a technicality; Mafia leader in Harlem late 1920s, working for Joe "the Boss" Ma.s.seria; heavily involved in lotteries and the artichoke rackets. Forced into retirement by a younger generation of Mafiosi, mid-1930s; hara.s.sed by the police thereafter. Died of a stroke, 1938, the only one of the four Morello-Terranova brothers to die in bed.NICK TERRANOVA aka "Coco." Youngest of the "Terranova boys." Succeeded Lomonte brothers as head of the Morello family. Ran family horse theft ring; extortionist and murderer. Shot dead two of the gang responsible for his nephew's death and vowed to butcher all the rest. Never married. Murdered by Camorra gunmen in a Brooklyn ambush, September 1916.VINCENZO TERRANOVA aka "the Tiger." Eldest Terranova brother; married into Reina family. Ran family ice racket. Suspect in the murder of "Diamond Sam" Sica, 1908; charged with murder of Charles Lombardi, 1918, but did not stand trial; murdered May 1922 by rival Mafiosi.PASQUALE AND LEOLUCA VASI Minor family members caught with $3,600 worth of counterfeits under a bed, November 1909.LULU VICARI Chief a.s.sa.s.sin used by the Morello family before 1914.GIOVANNI ZACCONI Arrested in connection with the Barrel Murder, 1903; thought to have driven the wagon that deposited Madonia's body on East 11th Street; became a farmer in Connecticut; shotgunned to death there by unknown a.s.sa.s.sins 1909.THE S SICILIAN M MAFIAVITO CASCIO FERRO Fearsome Mafia boss from Bisaquino. An ally of Morello's during three years spent in the United States; later became the most influential Sicilian Mafioso of the first third of the century. Suspected of playing a leading part in the Petrosino murder.PAOLINO STREVA Corleone capo who was Morello's superior in the local Mafia.BERNARDO TERRANOVA Morello's stepfather, an initiated member of the Corleone Mafia who led the family to New York in 1893. His own three sons also became Mafiosi.IN C CORLEONEANNA DIPUMA Neighbor of Giovanni Vella who witnessed his murder and told friends she would testify as to the ident.i.ty of his killer. Shot in the back outside her home a few days later.FRANCESCO ORTOLEVA Minor politician framed by Morello for the Vella murder; tried and convicted after extensive Mafia intrigues; served twenty years for a crime Morello had committed. Son sought Flynn's aid in having him freed.GIOVANNI VELLA Honest head of the Corleone Field Guard, murdered by Morello after getting too close to shutting down a Mafia cattle-rustling ring, 1889.BERNARDINO VERRO Socialist firebrand and mayor of Corleone, initiated into the Mafia by Morello's stepfather, Bernardo Terranova, early 1893. Later denounced the fraternity and was murdered by it, November 1915.MICHELE ZANGARA Morello neighbor who overheard a compromising conversation. His body was found, broken and dead, at the foot of a bridge just outside Corleone.THE N NEW O ORLEANS M MAFIA, NEW O ORLEANS P POLICE, AND N NEW O ORLEANS V VIGILANTESDAVID HENNESSY New Orleans police chief mortally wounded in a shotgun ambush, December 1890. Told a friend: "The dagoes did it."JOSEPH MACHECA Powerful New Orleans shipping boss; Sicilian born and alleged to have been a prominent local Mafia figure.CHARLES AND TONY MATRANGA Born in Monreale, Sicily, and influential on the New Orleans waterfront. Italian police doc.u.ments name Tony Matranga as one of the bosses of the New Orleans offshoot of the Monreale Mafia; witnesses in Louisiana describe initiation ceremonies organized by his brother. Tony Matranga lost a leg in battle with the rival Provenzano clan; Charles survived the Parish Prison lynching, March 1891.WILLIAM PARKERSON New Orleans lawyer and vigilante leader who led the eight-thousand-strong mob that burst into New Orleans's Parish Prison and murdered eleven Sicilians accused of involvement in the Hennessy murder-America's worst ma.s.s lynching.THE N NEW Y YORK M MAFIAJOE BONANNO aka "Joe Bananas." Influential second-generation Mafia boss and head of one of New York's five families; remained active into the 1960s. Played leading role on the Castellammarese side in 1930s Mafia war; met and described Morello, his enemy.SALVATORE D'AQUILA aka "Tot." Ruthless Palermo Mafioso and cheese importer who kept a low profile and headed his own family in Harlem from at least 1912 in rivalry to Morello's. After the Clutch Hand's imprisonment, had himself declared America's boss of bosses in succession to him; later arranged for Morello and Lupo to be sentenced to death. Shot dead in 1928 ambush and succeeded by Ma.s.seria.SEBASTIANO DOMINGO aka "Buster from Chicago." Mafia gunman imported from Illinois to fight in the Castellammare War. Deadly sharpshooter. Victims included Giuseppe Morello, Manfredi Mineo, and Joe "the Baker" Catania, nephew of Ciro Terranova. Shot dead in Manhattan, 1932.SALVATORE LUCANIA aka Charlie "Lucky" Luciano. Born Lercara Friddi, Sicily. Highly influential Mafia boss of the 1930s and 1940s; decades earlier, a key aide of Ma.s.seria; his decision to betray his boss brought the Castellammare War to a sudden end.SALVATORE MARANZANO Highly educated, ambitious, a killer: the boss of the Castellammarese side in the 1930 Mafia war led the faction that killed Morello and Ma.s.seria. Murdered at the behest of Luciano and other Mafia leaders when he in turn became too grasping, September 1931.GIUSEPPE Ma.s.sERIA aka "Joe the Boss." Mafia boss of bosses after D'Aquila's death. Rose to power during Morello's imprisonment; a key ally and protector of the Morello-Terranova clan during the 1920s. Morello and Ciro Terranova were both his lieutenants.MANFREDI MINEO aka Al. Palermo Mafioso who formed his own family in Brooklyn around 1910. Allied with the Morellos against D'Aquila in 1911-12. Later a Ma.s.seria ally; killed during the Castellammare War.NICOLA SCHIRO aka "Cola." Founder of the second of New York's Mafia families; allied with Morellos against D'Aquila in 1911-12. Led Castellammarese Mafia faction in Brooklyn. Ousted by Maranzano and returned to Italy.JOE VALACHI aka "Joe Cago." Neapolitan burglar recruited by the Castellammarese during the 1930 Mafia war. Sworn enemy of Ciro Terranova; friend of Alessandro Vollero; memoirs gave first inside look at the Morello-era Mafia.UMBERTO VALENTI aka "the Ghost." Cruel and effective Morello ally then rival; member of the D'Aquila family. Had Vincenzo Terranova murdered, 1922; killed in revenge three months later.THE P PITTSBURGH M MAFIANICOLA GENTILE Born Agrigento, Sicily; American Mafia killer and diplomat whose smooth journey through half a dozen U.S. families gives vital insight into the fraternity in Morello's time. Helped save the Clutch Hand's life in 1920. Died in Sicily sometime after 1974.THE C CAMORRARALPH DANIELLO aka "the Barber." Real name Alfonso Pepe. Low-level Camorra cocaine dealer and gunman who turned informant when his bosses refused to help his wife and family. Betrayed entire Camorra leadership and cleared up twenty-three unsolved murders; his evidence led to half a dozen capital trials and the jailing of Alessandro Vollero and Pellegrino Marano. Given a suspended sentence as a reward for his information. Later served five years for felonious a.s.sault. Murdered in Newark soon after his release from prison, 1925.PELLEGRINO MARAnO Camorra boss in New York. Ran the Coney Island gang. Jailed on Daniello's evidence after trial for second-degree murder.TONY NOTARO Camorra gunman who turned informant to save his life and helped convict the Neapolitans' New York leadership.ANTONIO PARETTI aka "Tony the Shoemaker." Camorra gunman who took part in numerous murders. Fled to Italy. Returned to New York, 1925, and was convicted and executed for his part in the Nick Terranova slaying.ALPHONSE SGROIA aka "the Butcher." Camorra gunman who killed four. With Daniello and Notaro, turned informant to save his life; gave evidence against fellow Camorrists including Paretti.ALESSANDRO VOLLERO Camorra boss in Brooklyn; led Navy Street gang. Allied with Terranova brothers against Giosue Gallucci, then turned on the Harlem Mafia and tried to seize control of its rackets. Was winning "Camorra war" when Daniello turned traitor; subsequently convicted of murder, had capital sentence overturned on appeal, and served fifteen years in Sing Sing. Met Joe Valachi in jail; fearing Mafia vengeance, retired to Italy on his release.NEW Y YORK O ORGANIZED C CRIMEGIOSUE GALLUCCI aka "the King of Little Italy." Influential Neapolitan politician and racketeer who rose to power in Harlem after Morello's 1910 conviction. Ran highly profitable "Royal Italian Lottery." Had numerous enemies-ten bodyguards were killed defending him. Survived half a dozen a.s.sa.s.sination attempts and two serious bullet wounds in all, but was killed by a group of Mafia and Camorra gunmen sent by Nick Terranova and Alessandro Vollero, 1915.JACK GLEASON Irish member of the 1900 Morello counterfeiting gang. Mollie Callahan's sweetheart; gave Secret Service information relating to her disappearance.EDWARD KELLY, CHAS BROWN, AND JOHN DUFFY Irish queer-pushers arrested in North Beach, May 1900, for pa.s.sing Morello bills.PAUL KELLY Real name Paolo Vaccarelli. Intelligent and able early Italian gang boss who fell from power after the rise of the Mafia. Moved to Harlem under Morello's protection and reinvented himself as an early exponent of labor racketeering.LUIGI LAZZAZZARA Partner of Pasquarella Spinelli in the Murder Stable. Chief suspect in her murder; took control of the property and ran it until stabbed to death outside the premises, February 1914. A likely Morello family victim, police theorized.ANIELLO PRISCO aka "Zopo the Gimp." Freelance extortionist who fell foul of Gallucci; murdered December 1912.TOM SMITH Irish blacksmith and boodle carrier a.s.sociated with the 1900 Morello counterfeiting gang.GIULIANO SPERLOZZA Leading Black Hand extortionist and Morello enemy, victim of extremely inventive a.s.sa.s.sination, 1908.PASQUARELLA SPINELLI Sicilian owner of the East 108th Street Murder Stable. A Morello ally; murdered on the premises March 1912.HENRY THOMPSON aka "Dude." Irishman who headed a gang of queer-pushers responsible for pa.s.sing Morello's crude 1900 counterfeits.THE N NEW Y YORK P POLICE D DEPARTMENTTHEODORE BINGHAM Army general and New York police commissioner; dispatched Petrosino on his fatal mission to Sicily.ARTHUR CAREY Detective sergeant; homicide specialist who investigated the Barrel Murder, 1903.MICHAEL FIASCHETTI Born in Rome; a leading member of the Italian Squad after Petrosino's death; investigated Camorra in Naples and Mafia "Good Killers" gang in New York and New Jersey, 1921.JOE PETROSINO Best-known detective in New York. An Italian, born Padula, Naples; immigrated to the United States in 1870s and worked as a shoeshine boy and foreman on the garbage scows; recommended to the NYPD by Captain Alexander "Clubber" Williams despite his diminutive height and joined the police in 1883. Promoted to detective by Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt a dozen years later; investigated Barrel Murder, 1903; lieutenant in charge of the Italian Squad, 1906. Sent to Sicily in 1909 to gather information expected to lead to the deportation of Italian criminals; murdered in Palermo with the knowledge and active collusion of the Morello family.ANTONIO VACHRIS Genoese head of the Italian Squad in Brooklyn. Investigated the Catania "sack murder" in 1902 and the Salvatore Marchiani murder and dismemberment five years later. Warned Petrosino against traveling to Sicily.THE U.S. S U.S. SECRET S SERVICETHOMAS CALLAGHAN Teenage agent sent into the Morellos' tenement home to gather evidence of the internal layout. Survived an encounter with the Clutch Hand to become head of the agency's Chicago bureau.WILLIAM FLYNN Native New Yorker born to Irish immigrant parents; former plumber and jailer; a highly talented natural detective who headed the Service's New York bureau for fifteen years. Pursued Morellos for more than a decade; provided vital evidence in the Barrel Murder case and convicted forty-five members of the gang in 1909-10. Ran the only intelligence operation that penetrated the Mafia's inner councils before the 1970s. Later highly effective counterintelligence chief during World War I; investigated anarchist bombings 1919-20; preceded Hoover as head of the FBI, then ran a private detective agency in New York until his death.JOHN HENRY Long-serving New York operative involved in both the 1903 and 1909 Morello counterfeiting investigations.CHARLES MAZZEI Italian counterfeiter and informant who gave Flynn valuable inside information about the Morello family's activities.LARRY RICHEY Born Ricci. Philadelphia Italian who joined the Secret Service at sixteen after stumbling into a counterfeiters' lair; investigated 1903 Morello counterfeiting ring; later became a journalist and eventually the highly influential private secretary of President Herbert Hoover.PETER RUBANO Flynn's top Italian agent, infiltrated outer reaches of the Morello gang in the years 1906-10.JOHN WILKIE Washington-based head of the Secret Service; a former Chicago newsman who penned the original "Indian Rope Trick" hoax.INNOCENT B BYSTANDERSBARNET BAFF Feisty poultry dealer who refused to accept the prices imposed by the chicken cartel of Washington Market. Murdered by four hired gunmen, 1914.LUIGI BONO Italian grocer from Highland, New York; axed to death on a tenement rooftop, 1911, and found horribly mutilated, apparently a Mafia victim suspected of talking to the police.MOLLIE CALLAGHAN Maid hired to clean Morello's rooms in 1899; discovered evidence of counterfeiting and disappeared that Christmas. Neither she nor her body was ever found.KATRINA PASCUZZO Antonio Comito's mistress; endured months with him in the Morello gang's upstate headquarters.SALVATORE ROMANO Doctor, born in Corleone, duped into treating sixty members of the Morello family for free and later into testifying in Morello's favor at his 1910 counterfeiting trial. Lied on the stand; tried later for perjury.

CHAPTER 1.

THE BARREL MYSTERY.

THE ROOM FELT LIKE THE BOTTOM OF A GRAVE. IT WAS DAMP, LOW ceilinged, windowless, and-on this raw-boned New York night-as chilly and unwelcoming as a policeman's stare. ceilinged, windowless, and-on this raw-boned New York night-as chilly and unwelcoming as a policeman's stare.

Outside, on Prince Street in the heart of Little Italy, a fine drizzle slanted down to puddle amid the piles of rotting garbage strewn along the edges of the street, leaving the cobbles treacherous and greasy. Inside, beneath a billboard advertising lager beer, a featureless, cheap workingmen's saloon stretched deep into the bowels of a dingy tenement. At this late hour-it was past three on the morning of April 14, 1903-the tavern was shuttered up and silent. But in the shadows at the far end of the bar there stood a rough-hewn, tightly closed door. And in the room behind that door, Benedetto Madonia sat eating his last supper.

The place was advertised as a spaghetti restaurant, but it was in truth an eating house of the most basic sort. An old stove squatted against one wall, belching fumes. Musty strings of garlic dangled from the walls, mingling their odor with the smell of boiling vegetables. The remaining fittings consisted of several rough, low tables, a handful of ancient chairs, and a rusting iron sink that jutted from a corner of the room. Gas lamps spewed out mustard light, and the naked floorboards had been scattered with cedar sawdust, which, at the end of a busy day, coagulated in a thick mix of spit, onion skins, and the b.u.t.ts of dark Italian cigars.

Madonia dug hungrily into a stew of beans, beets, and potatoes, hearty peasant food from his home province of Palermo. He was a powerfully built man of average height, handsome after the fashion of the time, with a high forehead, chestnut eyes, and a wave of thick brown hair. A large mustache, carefully waxed until it tapered to points, offset the sharp slash of his Roman nose. He dressed better than most workingmen, wearing a suit, high collar, tie, and well-soled shoes-all signs of some prosperity. Exactly how he earned his money, though, was scarcely obvious. If asked, Madonia claimed to be a stonemason. But even a casual observer could see that this was a man unused to manual labor. His forty-three-year-old body had begun to sag, and his soft hands-neatly manicured-bore no trace of an artisan's calluses.

After a while the solitary diner, sated, thrust his bowl aside and glanced across the room to where a handful of companions lounged against one wall. Like him, they spoke Sicilian-a dialect so rich in words drawn from Spanish, Greek, and Arabic that it was scarcely intelligible, even to other Italians-and, like his, the jewelry and the clothes they wore were quite at odds with their supposed professions: laborer, farmer, clothes presser. Yet there was no mistaking the fact that Madonia was an outsider here. Immigrants though all those in the restaurant were, the others had become New Yorkers and now felt quite at home amid the teeming streets of the Italian colony. Madonia, on the other hand, had first come to Manhattan just a week ago and did not know the city. He found it disconcerting that he required an escort to find his way round Little Italy. Worse, he was growing increasingly alarmed at the way these men he barely knew muttered together in low voices, and spoke so elliptically that he could not grasp the meaning of their words.

Madonia had little chance to grapple with this mystery. The Sicilian had barely finished his meal when, with a click that echoed loudly through the room, the solitary door into the restaurant swung open and a second group of men appeared. In the sickly flicker of the gaslight Madonia made out the face of one he knew: Tommaso Petto, an oval-faced hulk of muscle and menace whose broad chest, strong arms, and limited intelligence had won him the nickname of "the Ox." Behind him, another figure lurked, silhouetted momentarily against one wall of the saloon. It was that of a man of slender build and middling height, his eyes twin drops of jet, like black holes bored into his skull. The newcomer's face was expressionless and gaunt, his skin rough, his chin and cheeks unshaven. He wore his mustache ragged, like a brigand's.

The Ox stepped instinctively aside, allowing the slight figure to step into the room. As he did so, a spasm of anxiety ran through the other figures in the restaurant. This was their leader, and they showed him fearful deference. Not one of the half-dozen others present dared to return his gaze directly.

Madonia himself was not immune to the terror that the black-eyed man inspired. The newcomer's voice, when he spoke, was parched, his gestures undemonstrative and minimal. Above all, there was the disconcerting way he swathed the right side of his body in a voluminous brown shawl. The arm that he kept hidden was, Madonia knew, appallingly deformed. The forearm itself was stunted, no more than half the length of any normal man's. Worse still, its hand was nothing but a claw. It lacked, from birth, the thumb and first four of its fingers. Only the little finger, useless on its own, remained, like the cruel joke of some uncaring deity. Black eyes' name was Giuseppe Morello, but his maimed appendage had earned him the nickname "Clutch" or "the Clutch Hand."

Morello wasted little time on ceremony. A single gesture from his good left hand sufficed; two of the men who had been lounging along the wall jerked up and pinioned Madonia, each seizing an arm as they dragged the diner to his feet. Their prisoner struggled briefly but without effect; grasped none too gently by his wrists and shoulders, he had no chance of escape. To shout out was hopeless; the room was too far from the sidewalk for even a full-blown scream of terror to be audible. Half standing, half supported by his captors, he writhed helplessly as the black-eyed man approached.

Exactly what pa.s.sed between Madonia and the Clutch Hand is uncertain. There may have been a brief but angry conversation. Most likely the word nemico nemico, enemy, was used. Perhaps Madonia, aware, far too late, of the lethal danger he was in, begged uselessly for mercy. If so, his words had no effect. Another gesture from the black-eyed man and the two a.s.sociates restraining the prisoner dragged him swiftly across the floor toward the rusty sink. A rough hand seized Madonia by the hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat. At this, a third man lunged forward wielding a stiletto-a thin-bladed dagger, honed to razor sharpness and some fourteen inches long. A second's pause, to gauge angle and distance, and the blade was thrust home, sideways on, above the Adam's apple.

The blow was struck with such brutal strength that it pierced Madonia's windpipe from front to back and continued on till it struck bone. The men holding the captive felt his frame collapse, limbs rubbery and unresponsive, as the weapon was withdrawn. Using all their strength, they hauled the dying man back to his feet as Petto the Ox stepped up, his own knife in his hand. A single sweeping slash from left to right, so fierce it cut right through Madonia's thick three-ply linen collar, severed both throat and jugular vein, all but beheading the prisoner.

Shocking though this violence was, it was premeditated. As life left Madonia in gouts, the men gripping his arms forced his head over the sink so that each succeeding pulse of blood drummed against the iron and gurgled down into the drains. The little that escaped fell onto the victim's clothes or was soaked up by the sawdust underfoot. None reached the floorboards to stain them and leave lasting evidence of the crime.

It took a minute, maybe more, for the awful flow of blood to ebb. As it did, thick fingers reached around Madonia's gashed neck and tied a square of gunnysack around his throat. The coa.r.s.e fabric absorbed the dying trickle from the wounds as the corpse was doubled, lifted bodily, and carried to the center of the room. There other hands had dragged a barrel, three feet high, of the sort supplied by wholesalers to New York's stores. A layer of muck and sawdust, scooped up from the floor, had been spread inside to absorb any remaining blood, and the dead man's body was forced inside with uncaring savagery.

One arm and a leg projected from the barrel, but that was immaterial; Morello and his men had no interest in concealing the body. Madonia's corpse was meant to be discovered, and the savage wounds it bore were a deterrent. Still, there was no point in chancing premature detection. An old overcoat, its labels carefully removed, was spread over the protruding limbs and the barrel wrestled and maneuvered back into the saloon and thence through a door that opened onto an alley. A decrepit one-horse covered wagon stood there, waiting in the darkness. Several of the Sicilians combined their strength and heaved their burden onto it; two men, hunched now in heavy cloaks, climbed on. And, with a creak of springs and clop of hooves, Benedetto Madonia embarked upon his final journey.

AN HOUR OR SO LATER, shortly after dawn, a cleaning woman by the name of Frances Connors left her apartment on the East Side and set off to the nearest bakery to buy rolls.

Her neighborhood was desperately impoverished. Connors's tenement stood between a failing livery stable, its business proclaimed in peeling paint, and a collapsing row of billboards b.u.t.tressed with iron sc.r.a.p. To her right, as she turned out of her apartment, the East River slopped a tide of stinking effluent against crumbling wharfs. To her left, a warehouse full of cackling poultry leaned hard against a factory. And directly ahead, where East 11th Street met Avenue D, her route to the nearest bakery took her past the scarred exterior of Mallet & Handle's lumberyard.

Mallet & Handle's was just as filthy and decrepit as East 11th Street itself. The yard smelled sourly of refuse, and its walls were pocked with unwashed windows swathed protectively in chicken wire. Most days deliveries piled up haphazardly outside, forcing pa.s.sersby to pick their way through ragged piles of timber. This morning, though, another obstacle blocked Connors's path. A barrel, covered with an overcoat, sat squarely in the middle of the pavement.

The lights were coming on in nearby tenements and the rain had all but ceased, but it was still too early for the stevedores and sweatshop workers of the neighborhood to be about. No one saw Mrs. Connors chance upon the barrel. No one watched her size up the obstruction, or lift a corner of the cloth to peer inside. They heard the Irishwoman, though. What Connors saw brought a scream to her lips so full of terror that heads came thrusting out of windows up and down the street. The cleaner had exposed the right arm and the left leg of a corpse. And below them, peering out from sawdust dark with blood, a face with a high forehead, chestnut eyes, and thick brown hair.

Connors's cries brought the local watchman running. He, in turn, ran for the police. Patrolman John Winters, who hastened up from his post nearby, pulled away the coat and saw at once that the man in the barrel was dead; his gashed throat and the chalky pallor of his skin were proof of that. Long blasts on the policeman's whistle brought reinforcements rushing to the scene. One man was sent to phone the men of the Detective Bureau while the others set about examining their find.

It was a horrific job. Everything that Winters touched was sticky with gore; the face and body of the dead man were spattered, the clothes saturated; blood oozed between the barrel's staves. But there was little to show how the corpse had found its way to East 11th Street. Rain had wiped out traces of the covered wagon's journey; footprints had dissolved to mud, cart tracks had been obliterated. And though Sergeant Bauer, of the Union Street station house, had pa.s.sed the lumberyard at 5:15 A.M A.M. and was quite certain that the barrel had not been present then, door-to-door inquiries along both sides of the street failed to reveal a single person who had seen the wagon as it rumbled down the road or had any idea how it could have been unloaded by Mallet & Handle's without anybody noticing.

Forensic science was still in its infancy in turn-of-the-century Manhattan; fingerprinting, just introduced by Scotland Yard, had yet to be adopted by the New York Police Department (NYPD), and the notion of preserving a crime scene was unheard of. Not bothering to wait for the detectives of the 14th Precinct to appear, Winters prized Madonia's body from the barrel-a difficult job, as it was wedged firmly inside-and stretched it out amid the puddles to examine it for clues. No effort was made to protect the body from the elements, but the patrolman did observe two details of importance: the coat that had covered the barrel was only slightly wet, despite the drizzle of that night, and the body beneath it remained warm to the touch. Plainly the butchered corpse had been abandoned only recently, and the man himself had not been dead for long.

It was left to Detective Sergeant Arthur Carey to start a systematic search. Carey, the first policeman with experience of murder to reach the spot, tagged the contents of Madonia's pockets; they consisted of a crucifix, a date stamp, a solitary penny, and several handkerchiefs, one of them, small and drenched with perfume, evidently a woman's. A watch chain dangled from the corpse's waistcoat, but the watch was gone; there was no wallet, and no name sewn anywhere into the clothing. Even the labels in the victim's underwear had been removed. "There was," the detective conceded, having checked, "not a sc.r.a.p of information on the body to establish identification."

Carey felt more confident in guessing the dead man's nationality. The corpse's looks were clearly Mediterranean. More tellingly, a brief note, written in Italian in a woman's hand, had been found crumpled in a trouser pocket. Both earlobes had been pierced for earrings, a practice commonplace in Sicily, and the stiletto wounds on Madonia's neck also looked bloodily familiar. In the course of his career, the detective had examined the victims of several Italian vendettas. Most likely, he concluded, the man had died in one of the murderous feuds common in Little Italy.

Not all of Carey's colleagues were so certain; in the first hours after the murder, some officers were working on the theory that the dead man might have had his throat cut by a vicious robber or was even the victim of a deranged crime of pa.s.sion. The possibility that the corpse was Greek or Syrian was also mooted. Most policemen, though, concurred with the sergeant's swift deductions. There were, after all, dozens of murders every year in the Italian sections of the city, and most were the products of exactly the sort of deadly feuds with which Carey was so familiar. Few cases of this type were ever solved; New York's police (nearly three-quarters of whom were Irish) did not pretend to understand what went on in Little Italy, and faced with witnesses and suspects who rarely spoke much English and seldom sought to involve the authorities in their disputes, detectives found it almost impossible to solve even incidents in which the murderers' ident.i.ties, and the reasons for the killing, were common knowledge in the immigrant community.

It was clear from the outset, though, that this murder would not go uninvestigated. The brutality of the a.s.sault, and the unprecedented circ.u.mstances of the barrel's discovery, had all the makings of a great sensation; by the time Carey had concluded his initial examination, at about 6:15 A.M. A.M., the sidewalks outside Mallet & Handle's were already clogged with gawkers who milled about in the hope of glimpsing the now shrouded body. A squad of police reserves, summoned from nearby station houses, had to link arms to keep back a crowd that quickly swelled to several hundred people. The first newspapermen appeared as well, scrawling down their shorthand summaries of what was known about the case. b.l.o.o.d.y murder was always front-page news.

By breakfast time, indeed, the fresh whiff of sensation had brought a gaggle of inspectors all the way up from police headquarters. Among the senior officers keen to reap the attendant publicity was George McClusky the head of the Detective Bureau, who took full charge of the investigation. A tall, good-looking man with handsome hair and a thick mustache, McClusky had served more than a decade with the bureau and possessed so much swagger and self-confidence that he was universally known behind his back as "Chesty George." But the inspector's high opinion of his own abilities was not matched by reality. McClusky was a clumsy investigator, too certain of the rightness of his own opinions and lacking the subtlety and intuition of the best detectives. He tended to be hasty, too, and all too often rushed into premature arrests. A genuinely baffling case-which Arthur Carey already feared the barrel mystery would turn out to be-might easily confound him.

Fortunately for the police, Carey had already taken steps to remedy the situation. His tentative identification of the barrel victim as a Sicilian had prompted him to call for help, and within the hour it arrived in the unlikely shape of a squat man in a shapeless overcoat, his face half hidden beneath a derby hat. The newcomer was Sergeant Joseph Petrosino, born in Padula, south of Naples, but now New York's great expert on Italian crime. Quite possibly the most recognizable officer in the entire department, Petrosino was smallpox-scarred, strong-featured to the point of ugliness, and short even by the standards of the day-he stood a mere five feet three and customarily wore lifts in his shoes to augment his height. The detective's diminutive stature, though, was as deceptive as the look of blank-eyed stupidity that he often wore upon his face; the sergeant tipped the scales at close to three hundred pounds, and much of that bulk was muscle. "He had," a member of the district attorney's office who knew him well once wrote, "enormous shoulders and a bull neck, on which was placed a great round head like a summer squash. His face was pock-marked and he rarely smiled, but went methodically about his business, which was to drive Italian criminals out of the city and the country."

It took Petrosino only a few minutes to examine the yard, the body, and the handful of effects that had filled Madonia's pockets. Then he and Carey turned their attentions to the barrel in which the dead man had been found. It had been cheaply made, without hoops, and now that the corpse had been removed, the detectives could see that a three-inch thickness of sawdust coated its base. Taking turns, the two men reached inside and sifted through the blood-saturated cedarwood, discovering a hairpin, onion skins, and several black cigar b.u.t.ts that Petrosino said were of Italian make-detritus, the detective noted, from a restaurant floor. Carey, running a finger along the inside of the staves, felt tiny granules grind against his skin. Several lodged under his fingernails; lifting his hand to his mouth, the sergeant touched the tip against his tongue and tasted sugar. That suggested the barrel had at one time been the property of a candy store, a pastry shop, or a cafe.

It was only as the morning brightened into daylight that the most important clue emerged. Peering for the first time at the barrel's base, Carey made out the faint marks of a stencil. There, in muted ink, he read the legend "W&T." And, stamped along the side of a stave, was a faint serial number: "G.223." The two detectives glanced at each other. Here at last was a lead worth following.

NEW YORK'S PRINc.i.p.aL SUGAR refineries sat bunched together on the far side of the East River, belching smoke along the waterfront. Carey spent the remainder of the morning and part of the afternoon trudging from one to another, until at last he found a factory where clerks recognized the stencil marks. "W&T," the detective was told, were the initials of one of the refinery's customers: Wallace & Thompson, a grocer on Washington Street. "G.223" denoted a recent consignment consisting of six hoopless barrels of sugar. refineries sat bunched together on the far side of the East River, belching smoke along the waterfront. Carey spent the remainder of the morning and part of the afternoon trudging from one to another, until at last he found a factory where clerks recognized the stencil marks. "W&T," the detective was told, were the initials of one of the refinery's customers: Wallace & Thompson, a grocer on Washington Street. "G.223" denoted a recent consignment consisting of six hoopless barrels of sugar.

The man at Wallace & Thompson was just as helpful. He recalled the order and told Carey that all six barrels had already been sold. Half of the consignment had been broken up and disposed of in ten-pound lots, but the other three barrels had been sold entire.

"Have you got any Italian customers?" Carey asked.

"Only one," replied the clerk. "Pietro Inzerillo, who has a pastry shop in Elizabeth Street." Inzerillo had purchased two barrels of sugar for his Cafe Pasticceria, a popular meeting spot for working-cla.s.s immigrants that stood just around the corner from the Prince Street saloon.

Sending word for Petrosino to join him, Carey hastened off to Little Italy.

AN AMBULANCE BROUGHT Madonia's body to the city morgue midway through the morning. The coroner's surgeon, Dr. Albert Weston, was waiting; he performed a quick, efficient autopsy, noting a physical description, listing wounds, and informing the police that their anonymous victim had died sometime between 3:30 and 4 Madonia's body to the city morgue midway through the morning. The coroner's surgeon, Dr. Albert Weston, was waiting; he performed a quick, efficient autopsy, noting a physical description, listing wounds, and informing the police that their anonymous victim had died sometime between 3:30 and 4 A.M A.M. The examination uncovered several other clues as well. Seventeen separate wounds had been carved into the man's face after he died-suggesting, the coroner thought, the motive of revenge. And the scarcely digested Sicilian meal that Weston found in the man's stomach was the first firm evidence McClusky had as to Madonia's nationality and to what he had been doing at the time that he was murdered.

The autopsy complete, Weston laid the corpse on a bed of ice. In this way the remains could be preserved, at least for several weeks, while attempts were made to discover its ident.i.ty. Soon after lunch, the first in a long line of policemen and potential witnesses began calling at the morgue, sent there by McClusky in the hope that someone would recognize that striking face; in time, more than a thousand people would file hopefully past the body. Weston even allowed a photographer from William Randolph Hearst's muckraking New York Journal New York Journal to snap a picture of the cadaver as it lay on the slab. That sort of thing was usually frowned on, but the to snap a picture of the cadaver as it lay on the slab. That sort of thing was usually frowned on, but the Journal Journal, with its screaming headlines, simple text, and ample use of ill.u.s.trations, boasted a larger circulation among the immigrant community than any other New York paper. By evening half a million of its readers would have seen the dead man's face. Surely one of them would recognize it.

McClusky fed Weston's information to his men. n.o.body could say that the police were not making every effort to solve the case; hundreds of detectives from precincts all over the city had been pulled off their normal duties to question informants and to hunt for clues, and virtually the whole of the uniformed force was sucked into the investigation, too; even long-serving Manhattan crime reporters could scarcely remember a time when so great a proportion of police resources had been devoted to a single case. Yet by mid-afternoon, Carey and Petrosino aside, not one of the NYPD's thousands of officers had come up with a worthwhile lead. The mystery man in the rickety barrel seemed to have sprung from nowhere; no one had seen him loitering around the city, noticed anything suspicious, or had the least idea how a well-dressed Sicilian with chestnut eyes might have come to such an awful end.

No one, that is, but a man sitting in an anonymous Wall Street office who had glimpsed Madonia just once, the day before the murder.

THE MOST ATTENTIVE READER of the evening papers sprawled behind a desk in Manhattan's Treasury Building, leafing with growing interest through pages dense with coverage of the barrel mystery. of the evening papers sprawled behind a desk in Manhattan's Treasury Building, leafing with growing interest through pages dense with coverage of the barrel mystery.

William Flynn was chief of the New York bureau of the U.S. Secret Service, which made him the most important agent in the country outside Washington. A native of Manhattan, the son of an Irish immigrant, and educated in the city's public schools, Flynn did not look much like anyone's idea of a government man. He was thirty-six years old and tall, close-cropped, and bullet-headed, with the powerful build of the semi-professional baseball player that he had been in his twenties and a face that too much desk work was beginning to turn jowly. Flynn had an unlikely background for a Secret Service agent, too; he had left school at fifteen to be a plumber and later worked for several years as a guard in a New York jail. But he was a great deal cleverer than his bland looks and sausage body might suggest. In the six years since he had joined the service, Chief Flynn had blazed such a trail through New Orleans, Washington, and Pittsburgh that John Wilkie, the agency's director, had personally selected him to tackle the toughest posting that the service had to offer. Now here he was on Wall Street, the U.S. government's most senior detective.

Flynn's job was to keep the biggest city in the country free from counterfeiters and forged bills. Although best known today for guarding the president, the Secret Service was, and remains, a department of the Treasury. It had been founded after the Civil War, at a time when nearly half of all the cash in circulation was counterfeit, and its first duty has always been to maintain robust public confidence in the value of the dollar. The agency came by its close protection role by accident-one of Flynn's predecessors in the New York office had actually been demoted for informally a.s.signing men to guard President Cleveland-and even in 1903, after the a.s.sa.s.sination of William McKinley had forced Washington to take that problem much more seriously, nine-tenths of Secret Service manpower, and practically all its budget, was devoted to the war on counterfeiting. The work demanded men of unusual ability; forgers rarely committed messy, headline-grabbing crimes, they could work from almost anywhere and were noted for their brains. Tracking them down and procuring evidence against them called for patience, thoroughness, and cunning. In all these qualities, Flynn excelled.

The counterfeiting problem in New York was particularly bad. Large quant.i.ties of fake notes and bad coins were in circulation. A few of these were first-rate forgeries; most counterfeit currency, though, consisted of badly printed notes on poor-quality paper and crudely struck half-dollar coins and quarters. These unskillful fakes were never intended to fool bankers or Treasury men; they were put into circulation by small-time crooks known as "queer-pushers," who bought them at a discount from the men who forged them and took their chances palming them off on hara.s.sed bartenders and shopkeepers. Queer-pushing was far easier when practiced in poor immigrant districts, where crowds were dense and the locals unsophisticated. It was for this reason that counterfeiting was especially common in the Jewish and Italian enclaves of New York-and for this reason, too, that Flynn had spent the evening, a day earlier, loitering outside a butcher's shop on Stanton Street in Little Italy.

The Secret Service had been aware ever since the spring of 1899 that Sicilian forgers were pa.s.sing bad money in New York, and over the years its agents had arrested a number of queer-pushers who were agents of the gang. Half a dozen of these small fish had been convicted and given sentences of as much as six years; most recently, on New Year's Eve 1902, a group of Italians had been caught in Yonkers pa.s.sing counterfeit five-dollar bills drawn on the Iron Bank of Morristown, New Jersey. Three of the members of this gang had been convicted a month before the Barrel Murder. They had gone to jail tight-lipped-much to Flynn's frustration-refusing to reveal either the names of their suppliers or the location of their printing works.

It had taken the Secret Service twelve weeks, and a large expenditure of effort, to solve the mystery of the Morristown fives. In the end, however, long hours of covert observation and the careful cultivation of informants drew agents to a dingy butcher's shop at 16 Stanton Street, a two-minute walk from the spaghetti restaurant where Madonia would meet his death. The store, Flynn learned, had changed hands in early April. Its new owner was a large and powerful Sicilian named Vito Laduca.

The trail that had led Flynn to Stanton Street worried the Secret Service chief considerably. For one thing, the previous owner of the butcher's shop, the man who had agreed to sell the store, had vanished on the day the sale was due to be completed, and the police could find no trace of him; they were increasingly convinced he had been murdered. For another, Laduca himself had been arrested for counterfeiting some weeks earlier. He had been picked up in Pittsburgh early in January on suspicion of pa.s.sing the same forged five-dollar bills that were now circulating in Manhattan, and though the Pennsylvania authorities had been unable to make the charges stick, investigation had established that Laduca's New York a.s.sociates were not the sort a law-abiding man would choose as friends. Some, such as the confectioner Pietro Inzerillo, whose cafe stood just around the corner, had no police records but were of growing interest to the Secret Service. Others were known criminals. Of these, by far the most daunting was the counterfeiters' leader, a slight man of nearly forty who came from Corleone, south of Palermo. He had a criminal record on both sides of the Atlantic, having been arrested for a double murder in Sicily and in New York for forging bills. He also had a maimed right hand and jet-black eyes.

William Flynn had built his reputation on a formidable ability to catch the most elusive forgers; in the course of his six-year career he had set out on the trail of dozens of counterfeiters and failed to convict only one. But Giuseppe Morello and his men had proved to be formidable adversaries. Two months earlier, in February, Flynn had asked one of his Italian informants to infiltrate the gang, but the Sicilians were clannish and shunned approaches from strangers. In March, trying a different tack, Flynn ordered a second stool pigeon to strike up a business acquaintance with Messina Genova, who kept a store of his own a little way down Stanton Street. Giovanni La Cava, the most reliable man the Chief had in Little Italy, made the approach with an offer to sell real estate at bargain prices, but Genova haughtily rebuffed him, remarking that Sicilians had had enough of being cheated by crooks from mainland Italy. "La Cava is a good man," Flynn wrote despairingly to Washington, "but he won't connect with [them]. It seems next to impossible for an outsider to break into this gang."

La Cava's failure was a blow to Flynn, who found himself forced to resort to far more time-consuming measures to gather evidence against the counterfeiters. With no man on the inside of the group, long hours of covert observation would be needed to deduce the size and hierarchy of the gang. It was a decision that the Chief would rather not have taken; keeping watch in Little Italy was no easy task, and it placed a huge strain on his limited resources. At least three operatives were required to monitor a single location, and he had only nine agents to deploy across the whole of New York. But, beginning early that April, Flynn's men took up positions on Stanton Street and began to take careful note of every man who went into or out of the butcher's shop.

It was tedious and unrewarding work that required a keen eye and a memory for faces. The surveillance began each day at 8 A.M A.M. and ran until after dark. Flynn's agents, disguised as laborers, hung about in doorways and had to be careful not to say too much, for fear of giving themselves away in a district in which everybody spoke Italian. They rotated duties where they could, relieving one another every few hours to reduce the chances of attracting notice and working usually in pairs, so there was a man available to tail a suspect and another to maintain the watch.

The results of the first two weeks of work were mixed. Several of the most frequent callers to the shop proved to be well known to the Secret Service; in time, with tips and help provided by informants, the operatives put names to almost a dozen members of the counterfeiting gang. But seven or eight others could not be identified, and on April 13, after work, Flynn decided to travel up to Stanton Street himself to make a personal a.s.sessment of the situation.

It was a cold and blowy evening, threatening rain, when the Chief alighted from his streetcar on the Bowery, downtown Manhattan's great thoroughfare. Laduca's store stood several hundred yards away, down a busy street clogged with pushcarts thrust hard up against the pavements and peddlers sending up a cacophony of Sicilian slang as they hawked everything from hardware to vegetables from their stalls. Despite the weather, the sidewalk and the street were thronged with men hastening home from work and women dressed in black hunting for bargains, and everywhere there were gangs of rough-clad children, playing in between the carts or scavenging food or change that had fallen in the dirt. Flynn, coc.o.o.ned in an overcoat and with his head bowed against the wind, forced his way through the crowd until he picked out the first of his agents, Operative John Henry, who was skulking against a doorway across the road from the butcher's store. Henry had been hanging around in the vicinity since 1:15 P.M. P.M. N NOW, he rapidly explained to Flynn, Morello and two of his a.s.sociates were holding a discussion of some sort in Laduca's shop. A fourth Italian, a stranger Henry had not seen before, had left the shop a little earlier. He was now lounging, smoking a cigarette, against a streetlamp down the street.

Flynn and Henry kept watch as the sky darkened and the conversation in the butcher's store grew more heated. They felt sure that the counterfeiters had not seen them. But, after a while, one of the men inside 16 Stanton Street broke off from the conversation and came to the door carrying a hammer and a curtain. He tacked the cloth across the entrance, barring the interior from view as the m.u.f.fled voices drifting from the shop rose higher still.

Unable to see or hear anything of importance, Flynn switched his attention to the stranger smoking down the street. In the gathering twilight it was difficult to make out his face. Light from the flickering streetlamp slanted down, throwing most of the Italian's features into shadow as he pulled hard on his cigarette. Still, the Chief was able to get a long look at his suit-brown, it seemed in the fading light-and profile. He felt certain he would recognize the man again.

THE EVENING PAPERS, when they arrived at the Treasury Building next afternoon, led with lengthy coverage of the barrel mystery. The Brooklyn Eagle Brooklyn Eagle, the Sun Sun, and the Evening World Evening World all reported in the same shocked tones the discovery of the body on East 11th Street and described in vivid detail the wounds that it had borne. Enterprising newsmen had sought out and interviewed Frances Connors and b.u.t.tonholed Inspector McClusky who had told them that the murder was most likely an act of vengeance. In the absence of an established motive, the rival papers speculated wildly as to who had killed the victim and why. "Death by torture seems to have been the fate of the man," the all reported in the same shocked tones the discovery of the body on East 11th Street and described in vivid detail the wounds that it had borne. Enterprising newsmen had sought out and interviewed Frances Connors and b.u.t.tonholed Inspector McClusky who had told them that the murder was most likely an act of vengeance. In the absence of an established motive, the rival papers speculated wildly as to who had killed the victim and why. "Death by torture seems to have been the fate of the man," the World World suggested, with an almost audible rubbing of hands. "There were no bruises to the body, [and] it appeared as though the man had been held by the arms and legs. ... This is one of the most interesting murders that has mystified New York in many years." suggested, with an almost audible rubbing of hands. "There were no bruises to the body, [and] it appeared as though the man had been held by the arms and legs. ... This is one of the most interesting murders that has mystified New York in many years."

Sitting alone in his office at the end of the day, Flynn leafed through these reports with interest. The detective in him enjoyed absorbing the details of the case and puzzling over what the newspapers agreed was the most baffling of its mysteries-the problem of the dead man's ident.i.ty. Beyond the likelihood that the victim was Italian, none of the dozens of journalists and the hundreds of patrolmen who had been scouring Manhattan had any real idea who he was. The Eagle Eagle focused most of its attention on the torn slip of paper that had been found in the dead man's pocket, which McClusky thought might have been a note sent to lure the man to his death, but the fragment was not much of a clue: "It was exceedingly hard, because of the fact that it was blurred, b.l.o.o.d.y and burned, to decipher the writing," the newspaper confessed. Only the focused most of its attention on the torn slip of paper that had been found in the dead man's pocket, which McClusky thought might have been a note sent to lure the man to his death, but the fragment was not much of a clue: "It was exceedingly hard, because of the fact that it was blurred, b.l.o.o.d.y and burned, to decipher the writing," the newspaper confessed. Only the Mail and Express Mail and Express had come up with anything more promising. "An employee of the Street Cleaning Department, named Zido, called at the station and saw the body," it informed its readers. "He said it looked like a man whom he had seen peddling fish on the East Side." But among several hundred East Siders sent by the police to shuffle past the cadaver, Zido was the only one who thought he recognized that face. "Twenty hours of zealous searching by three sets of detectives and by many reporters have failed to reveal any clue to the ident.i.ty of the murdered man," confirmed the had come up with anything more promising. "An employee of the Street Cleaning Department, named Zido, called at the station and saw the body," it informed its readers. "He said it looked like a man whom he had seen peddling fish on the East Side." But among several hundred East Siders sent by the police to shuffle past the cadaver, Zido was the only one who thought he recognized that face. "Twenty hours of zealous searching by three sets of detectives and by many reporters have failed to reveal any clue to the ident.i.ty of the murdered man," confirmed the Evening World Evening World.

Thus far, Flynn had no reason to suppose that the barrel victim, found on an Irish East Side street, had any connection to his own investigation. It was only when the Chief opened that day's New York Journal New York Journal that he sat up with a start. Hearst's daily had secured the only photograph of the dead man lying on the slab. Its picture had been hurriedly composed and poorly shot-it had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from a low angle and showed the corpse's face only in profile. But there was something deeply familiar about those features. that he sat up with a start. Hearst's daily had secured the only photograph of the dead man lying on the slab. Its picture had been hurriedly composed and poorly shot-it had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from a low angle and showed the corpse's face only in profile. But there was something deeply familiar about those features.

Flynn felt certain he had seen the man before. Where, though? The Secret Service man closed his door, lit a cigar, and searched his mental files of suspects. After a while it came to him. The face of the man in the morgue was that of the stranger he had watched the previous night slouching against a streetlamp in Stanton Street. He had the same hair, the same straight nose. Folding up his copy of the Journal Journal, the Chief summoned Operative Henry. Get down to the morgue as soon as possible, he said. Call back when you have seen the body.

Henry left Wall Street flanked by two other agents who had kept the watch on Stanton Street, and it was past 6:30 P.M P.M. when they phoned in. All three, Henry explained, believed they recognized the dead man from Laduca's store. But there was still at least a little room for doubt. The face of the barrel victim greatly resembled that of the man who had loitered under a streetlamp the previous evening, but his clothes seemed different. The man in Little Italy had been clad in a brown three-piece suit. The barrel victim was wearing blue.

Henry's call bothered Flynn. He thought it highly unlikely that the dead man had changed his clothes in the few hours that separated his appearance on Stanton Street from his violent death. After mulling the probl