◆ SpookStack

brings him scrambling to his feet and he too takes his place in line. High-ball is no longer barking. Now he leaps ferociously at the intruders, his white teeth showing, but alas Al Weinshank has tied that leash too securely. It all happens in a few minutes and yet there has been ample time for Pete Gusenberg, standing at the right of the line, to realize that this is a mission of murder, and that his only chance to beat back death is the little auto- matic revolver in his hip pocket. With a fierce cry and an oath his hand drops like a plummet to that hip pocket, and his fingers are just closing upon the butt of it when the address of the Graduating ceremonies commences. It is delivered quickly, artistically, and with masterful effec- tiveness. Approximately 150 bullets pour from those ma- chine guns and only a few fail to find lodgment in the doomed men standing there against the white-washed wall of brick. With the first outburst of fire the doomed men begin to scream and curse, but the steady rattling stream of lead plays upon them so expertly that only one moves out of line in an effort to escape, The steel bullets tear into the heads of these men, splintering skulls, splattering brains. Except for the man on the end who had tried to escape and collapsed on a chair in grotesque posture, they fall to the floor in the order in which they had stood. Now that all are lying on the blood and grease streaked floor, a second stream of death plays over them, again tearing into bone and flesh. Six or seven minutes ago Arthur Brichet had been ordered to move along. Now, standing against the wall of the building two or three hundred feet away, he can hear a low rumble from within the garage. sently the group of “policemen and detectives” emerge casually from the building, step into the automobile, and are driven smoothly away towards North Avenue. He sees the “squad” car weaving in and out of the traffic traveling rapidly, but not too rapidly. He walks toward the garage. He can hear the loud continuous barking of a dog. End of Beene two. Mrs. Jeanette Landsman, who lives at 2124 North Clark street which is just next door to the garage, hears rattling gun-fire, voices of men screaming and swearing. She rushed down stairs to the sidewalk and peers through the window of the garage, but, because of the office cannot see what has happened behind. She is afraid to enter. At this moment a pedestrian passes. She turns to him, saying that she heard shots in there. “I’ll see if anything's wrong,” says the man smilingly. And, in a most un- Chicagoan like manner, steps into the garage. A few seconds later he bursts out again, shaking, his face ghostly white. He can scarcely speak. “There's dead men all over the place,” he finally cries as he runs away shouting “I'll call the police.” And the police come. In horror they pause before the shambles. Both officers have seen service in the World War but there is something about this sight that is inexpressibly more awful than war. In the dim- ness of the room their eyes fall upon the figure of a man crawling upon his hands and knees across the floor. Re- covering from their first shock they now rush to his sid. It is Frank Gusenberg. More dead than alive he mumbles something “WHY retty strange for NR im. It is that he Te hopes no one will ever ne = suffer as he suffers. by \\ The officers, realizing > that Frank is dying, ply him with questions as they move him carefully towards the door, but Frank is true to the code of the half-world in which he has lived so lowg and he will say nothing . . . Squads of police and detec- tives appear in auto- mobiles, horns honk- ing, gongs clanging. Texi-cabs. draw up ‘Map showing route believed to have. been traveled by antomobile ‘Valentine Massacre killers from garage, fu which their automobile was later found, to 2122 Morth Clark Street, scene of the slaying. (Insert) Front view of @1@9 Morth Clark Street. (aay and photographers and newspaper reporters pour out. The street becomes jammed and the Clark and Broadway street cars are stalled in long lines in the narrow street: Up- stairs behind the little frayed lace curtains the masters of ceremonies sneak out and downstairs and, singly, dis- ap) into the surging crowd. Their job is done and done well. The ceremonies are over. In a morning ne’ office far away in the direction of the Loop District, a re- write man who has heard the first story of this holocaust, sits himself calmly at a typewriter and begins a matchless story. He taps out the story in a single line, namely that Gangland has graduated from murder to massacre. AFTERMATH } The whole world reeled before this one in horror and unbelief. Newspapers everywhere published the amazing crime and the Valentine Massacre of Chicago was discussed in the far corners of the earth. Defenders of Chicago's reputation looked on the atrocity helplessly and in dismay. Here was a crime which even the cynical Chicagoan could not dismiss with a superficial gesture. It seemed absurd now to say that since Gangland murdered only those who belonged to Gangland why bother about it? George “Bugs” Moran disappeared shortly after the crime but before he left one newspaper obtained one crisp comment from him. It was this: “Only one gang kills like that—the Capone gang.” This line was carried over the wires to Al Capone who was in Florida and he had one all ready for it. “They don’t call that guy ‘Bugs’ for nothing,” was what the Big Fellow said. ; With each successive smoking edition of the Chicago newspapers for a solution of the crime and punishment for its perpetrators swelled in bitter intensity. Thoughtful rsons filled column after column with suggestions as to ow the said conditions which made such a thing possible might be remedied. Not since the unsolved murder of McSwiggin, the “hanging prosecutor” from the state's attorney’s office, had public indignation developed such a temperature. William E. Russell, commissioner of police, commanded to run the murderers to earth, summoned Deputy Commissioner of Detectives John Stege home from ‘a vacation to work on the case. Commissioner Stege at that time was spending a vacation in Florida and Cuba with a ip of friends among whom was included Alfred “Jake” Lingle, veteran Chicago Tribune police reporter, who was later to be put on the spot by Gangland. During the relent- less series of investi- Ley gations instituted by 3 le Wu Commissioner Stege : every Capone gang- 2S, ster in Chicago was, at one time or another, haled into detective bureau headquarters and passed in review before eye-witnesses whose names were, for a long time, with- held from the public. Three men were pot tively identified, Jack McGurn, and John Scalice. At the same time one of the eye- witnesses _ identified, Fred Burke, notorious criminal, from a pic- ture in the rogues gal- /- ten i S000 032000 fanann Int AeA