◆ SpookStack

We come now to the bloody exercises in which Gang- land graduates from murder to massacre, The exercises are to be held in an unpretentious little brick garage at 2122 North Clark Street behind whose well-concealed front entrance George ‘“Bugs” Moran has established a whisky depot in charge of which he has placed two of his toughest and most capable lieutenants, Frankie and Peter Gusen- berg. Whisky trucks are kept here when not in use, Johnny May, a first-class automobile mechanic, toils over them when they are off the road keeping them in tip-top shape mechanically. The garage is an ideal place in which to hold Gangland’s graduating exercises, a fact which had been established months before, and, since that time the gentlemen who are to perform the exercises have been awaiting the signal which will inform them that the most important North Side gangsters are on the spot and their time has come. Since December 18 the “observers” who are commis- sioned to make this signal have sat patiently behind tat- tered lace curtains in two front rooms of the boarding house upstairs immediately across the street. It is now February 14, 1929, and finally one of the many ruses employed by the masters of ceremonies has succeeded for the big shots of the North Side gang are assembling in the whisky depot. Pete and Frank Gusenberg are first to slip into the little door. Johnny May, the mechanic comes a few minutes later. Adam Heyer and James Clark turn into the door with Dr. Reinhardt H. Schwimmer, the physician with the hoodlum complex. The “observers” glance nervously at their watches, mumbling a few words perhaps about the failure of George “Bugs” Moran to keep this rendezvous. At this time they bend forward to see still another caller entering the garage. He is Al Wein- shank, the small-time bootlegger who has stepped in to buy some “goods” for his “respectable” little speakeasy at 4207 Broadway. Al has his big police dog, High-ball with him. The “observers” are chagrined because George “Bugs” has not arrived, but believing that he will be along at any moment, decide to make the long-awaited signal. One of them slips away to a telephone. End of scene one. It is now shortly after 11 o’clock—about fifteen minutes since the telephonic signal was made. A youth, George A, Brichet, loitering at the mouth of the alley behind the garage, observes a “squad” car glide noiseless up to the rear entrance and stop. Three men are in the car, two of them are in the uniform of policemen. Each carries ‘a large box-like contraption wrapped roughly with news- papers. Curioua young Brichet thinks that he is about to witness a raid, the first one he has ever seen in his life, and he races around to the front entrance, just in time to see what appears to be another “squad” car stop in front of the garage. Another group of armed men enter. Young Brichet pauses. He would like to “bust” right in after them, but the chauffeur of the big Cadillac growls at him to move on. Hurrying northward the youth selects a spot several hundred feet away from where he can at least steal glimpses and, maybe, when the “pinch” is made there will be a crowd and he can slip up to the entrance again when the “cops” bring ’em out. End of scene two. ; Inside the garage six men are all busily engaged in a conversation. Two of them sit on a little bench in the corner. Four are standing a few feet away. Johnny May, the mechanic, is down there under the truck tightening its belts, High-ball, the great police dog, is leashed to a wheel of the truck and, from the six or seven feet of free- dom thus accorded him, he barks and leaps playfully around. . . The telephone rings sharply in the little office which is built directly in front of the window, thus obstructing the rear view from people passing along the street. One of the men turns and walks rapidly into the office. Presently he comes back again, saying that Al Weinshank is wanted on the wire. Weinshank speaks repeatedly into the mouth- iece, but there is no answer. He clicks the instrument impatiently and, finally the operator informs him that the party hung up. Weinshank, a little mystified, returns to the floor. Gangland has placed seven men on the spot, and the graduating ceremonies are about to commence. A door-knob turns. The men in conversation turn to look. Two “policemen,” one holding a large package, walk easily toward them, followed by two men in street garb— robably “dicks” think the men who are on the spot. A pew seconds later and the rear door swings open and two more men enter. Hard-boiled Pete Gusenberg begins to snarl. Frankie makes a wise-crack. Just another goddam raid by some punk coppers. How’d they get here. Some- body is going to get a swell ride for this bum rap. Oh, well fortunately there's nothing in the joint now. That’s one good break. The intruders quickly tear newspapers from their “packages” revealing two machine-guns, and now, perhaps for the first time it dawns upon these six men here that this is no time for defiant words or wise-cracks. It may be even that Frankie and Pete or one of the others recog- nize some of these men beneath their coppers caps and uniforms, and that with recognization comes swift and awiul realization that their hour has come at last. There is a command from one of the intruders, empha- sized perhaps by a choice bit of blasphemy. Defiantly the two men who have been sitting on the bench rise slowly to their feet. All turn round, hands raised heavenward, to the wall. At this moment Johnny May, is spotted lying beneath the truck. Another command and an oath Four of the Seven Victims of the Valentine Day Massacre. (Left to right) James Clark, Albert Weinshank, Frank Gusen berg and his brother, Fete Gusenberg. : [43]