The Epic of New York City

by Edward Robb Ellis

  Some policemen were corrupt, and O’Dwyer had failed to do much about this situation. The F.B.I. no longer trusted crime statistics compiled by the New York police department. O’Brien resigned under pressure, as did his two top aides. Nearly 200 police were implicated in the investigation, more than 100 resigned, many were dismissed from the force, and a few were convicted of taking graft. Harry Gross was sent to jail for 12 years.

  The Gross case helped set the stage for New York sessions of the Kefauver Committee. On May 10, 1950, Vice-President Alben Barkley organized the Senate Crime Committee, which soon came to be called the Kefauver Committee for its chairman, Democratic Senator Estes Kefauver of Tennessee. The committee, which embarrassed Democrats in Washington and New York alike, consisted mainly of Democrats. It focused on the infiltration of criminals into politics and business and held sessions in many cities across the land.

  In the spring of 1951, the Kefauver Committee came to New York. Forty-nine witnesses were heard in private sessions, and forty testified at open hearings. They were gangsters, politicians, public officials and law enforcement officers. Of the eighty-nine witnesses, by far the most important were William O’Dwyer and Frank Costello.

  The first open hearing of the Kefauver Committee began on the morning of March 12, 1951, in a third-floor courtroom of the Federal Building on Foley Square. The room had a lofty ceiling, tall narrow windows, blue velvet drapes, and marble walls. With a thump of his gavel, Senator Kefauver launched one of the most unusual spectacles ever seen in New York. Actually, it was seen far beyond the confines of this city because the committee allowed the open hearings to be televised.

  Frank Costello had been described in newspapers as “the Prime Minister of the Underworld,” so his appearance in the courtroom caused a sensation. He stared around the brilliantly lighted chamber with slit-eyed arrogance and mumbled, “A damn moom pitcher set!” Of medium height, with a short neck and wide shoulders, Costello was proud of the deep tan on his narrow forehead, carrot-big nose, and heavily lined face. His attorney objected to T.V. cameras on his client’s face; but nothing was said about keeping the lens off the rest of his person, so millions watched in fascination as his fingers diddled with papers or poured water into a glass.

  He was questioned by Rudolph Halley, chief counsel to the committee. Costello emphatically denied that he was a leader of a national crime syndicate and insisted that he was only a businessman. But, according to the subsequent Kefauver report: “There is no question that he has been a strong and evil influence in New York politics. . . . Costello reached the height of his power in New York politics when he unquestionably had complete domination over Tammany Hall. . . . His sinister influence is still strong in the councils of the Democratic Party organization of New York County.” Hugo Rogers, the boss of Tammany Hall from July, 1948, to July, 1949, told the Kefauver probers in a private session, “If Costello wanted me, he would send for me.”

  Rogers had been succeeded by Carmine De Sapio, the first man of Italian descent ever to become Tammany boss. Costello admitted that he knew De Sapio very well. Costello also said that he knew leaders, co-leaders, or both in at least ten of the sixteen districts in Manhattan. Asked how he was able to influence them, Costello said, “I know them, know them well, and maybe they got a little confidence in me.” Interestingly, he had entertained James J. Moran, who was O’Dwyer’s confidant. Also interesting was Costello’s friendship with shirt manufacturer Irving Sherman, another O’Dwyer favorite. After committee members trapped Costello in a lie, he walked out on them, returned the next day, refused to answer further questions, and walked out a second time. The Kefauver report said that Costello’s testimony reeked of perjury, and he was sent to prison for contempt of the Senate.

  O’Dwyer flew from Mexico City to New York and appeared before the committee on March 19, 1951. So many people wanted to see him in person that extra chairs were brought into the courtroom, and standees squeezed into every empty space. Erect of bearing, his face more rutted than ever, his broad black eyebrows emphasized by his whitening hair, Bill O’Dwyer, wearing a pinstripe suit, was an affable Irishman who turned on the charm. He received permission to make an opening statement. Gesturing toward microphones on the table before him, O’Dwyer said, “I need these mikes to talk to the people.” Then, twiddling a paper clip in stubby fingers, he launched into a rambling account of his life and his accomplishments as mayor.

  O’Dwyer said that he had worked hard to bring the United Nations headquarters to New York. He had reorganized and improved the welfare department, created a traffic department, established a smoke control bureau, made progress in city planning, and given city employees a pay raise. Although it was politically dangerous to do so, he had raised the subway fare from five to ten cents. He had created a division of labor relations to help prevent strikes. He had set up a management survey committee to look into the city’s management needs. The Kefauver Committee later declared that “unquestionably he accomplished many noteworthy achievements.” Its report added, “Certainly it would be unfair to give the impression that the matters in which this committee is interested give anything like a complete picture of O’Dwyer’s accomplishments in public office.”

  Senator Charles W. Tobey of New Hampshire, who wore a green eyeshade and spoke with a twang, finally interrupted O’Dwyer’s monologue. The Republican Senator wanted to pin the Democratic witness down to cases. This was the start of a searing cross-examination, which lasted two days.

  Did O’Dwyer agree that Costello was a sinister influence in Tammany Hall? Yes. Hadn’t O’Dwyer told a 1945 grand jury that he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that his good friend Irving Sherman was a collector for Costello? Yes. Hadn’t Sherman helped in his 1945 campaign? Yes. While O’Dwyer was in the army, hadn’t he kept in touch with Sherman by long-distance phone from all over the country? Yes. What did Sherman want from O’Dwyer? Nothing. Hadn’t O’Dwyer called McDonald’s probe of police corruption a “witchhunt”? Yes, but that was because O’Dwyer regretted that a few grafters on the police force might be considered typical of the 18,000 men in uniform. Had O’Dwyer talked with McDonald before making his “witch-hunt” remark? No, because O’Dwyer was so certain that the police department was clean that he couldn’t believe the things McDonald’s probe was disclosing. From the witness stand O’Dwyer admitted that later events proved McDonald was right and said that he had apologized to McDonald. Then O’Dwyer agreed that book-making was rampant during his administration? Yes. And wasn’t it true that widespread bookmaking couldn’t exist without police protection? Yes.

  Had O’Dwyer ever visited Costello’s apartment? A gasp went up from the television audience across the land as the former mayor of New York admitted that he had indeed called on a board member of the Combination. Then O’Dwyer told this story: In 1942 he was a major in the army air force attached to air procurement. He was ordered to keep Wright Field, in Dayton, Ohio, clean. O’Dwyer said that an anonymous letter to the district attorney’s office in Brooklyn charged certain clothing frauds at Wright Field by a Joe Baker. This letter also said that Baker was a friend of Costello. O’Dwyer testified that he had asked Irving Sherman to arrange a meeting with Costello. Why hadn’t O’Dwyer invited Costello to his army office? O’Dwyer said that he was then “no longer a district attorney with a fistful of subpoenas, but just a little major or maybe a lieutenant colonel.” Accompanied by James J. Moran, O’Dwyer went to Costello’s apartment on Central Park West. (Moran testified before the Kefauver Committee that it was he who made this appointment and that he did it through Michael J. Kennedy, then the boss of Tammany Hall.)

  O’Dwyer disclosed that among those present in Costello’s home were Irving Sherman; Bert Stand, secretary of Tammany Hall; and Mike Kennedy. O’Dwyer said that the presence of the boss of Tammany Hall in Costello’s apartment made such a strong impression on him that he never forgot it. Did O’Dwyer ever announce that he had seen the Tammany boss there? No. Had O’Dwyer ever
helped Kennedy after Kennedy had been deposed as Tammany boss in 1944? Yes, O’Dwyer supported Kennedy in 1948 in a leadership fight on Manhattan’s West Side. Had O’Dwyer ever said publicly that he himself had visited Costello? No. In the army file on the Joe Baker case was there any mention of O’Dwyer’s meeting with Costello? No. What happened to the case? O’Dwyer testified that Costello said he knew a Joe Baker but didn’t know whether this Joe Baker had any interest in air force contracts. Did O’Dwyer try to find Baker? No. Did he ask anyone else to do so? No. Was Baker ever barred from Wright Field? No.

  Committee members made no secret of their belief that O’Dwyer had called on Costello to discuss politics. By now O’Dwyer was shifting uneasily in the witness chair and mopping his brow. The committee established that Frank Bals was a close friend of O’Dwyer. Bals had been O’Dwyer’s chief investigator when O’Dwyer had been Brooklyn district attorney. After O’Dwyer first became mayor, he made Bals seventh deputy police commissioner. Then Bals was put in charge of the six cops guarding Reles.

  Bals had testified before the Kefauver Committee. He tried to explain Reles’ death by saying the prisoner was playing a joke on his guards. Bals said that Reles wanted to climb out of his hotel window, reach the ground, reenter the hotel, climb back upstairs, and confound his guards. When he was asked how Reles could have made his preparations without the cops hearing anything, Bals said that all of them must have fallen asleep.

  O’Dwyer now admitted that Bals’ story was nonsense. Then how did O’Dwyer explain Reles’ death? O’Dwyer said that he thought Reles was trying to escape. The theory failed to convince the committee because at another point O’Dwyer said Reles was afraid of being killed by the syndicate. Well, who was responsible for the loss of O’Dwyer’s most important witness against Albert Anastasia? O’Dwyer said that it was pure negligence by the cops guarding Reles. What happened to them? They were demoted. But hadn’t O’Dwyer said in public that they were blameless? Yes. What happened to Bals? O’Dwyer promoted him.

  Did O’Dwyer know John P. Crane, president of Local 94 of the International Association of Fire Fighters? Yes. Had Crane ever handed O’Dwyer any campaign contributions? No.

  Then Crane took the witness stand. He said that in the 1949 mayoralty campaign he donated money for O’Dwyer’s candidacy. Why? Well, city firemen needed the mayor’s goodwill. To whom did Crane give this money? Crane testified that he gave $55,000 to James J. Moran. Crane also said that he himself went to Gracie Mansion and met O’Dwyer alone on the porch. Crane said that he then handed O’Dwyer an envelope containing $10,000 in cash.

  O’Dwyer, appearing before a grand jury when the Kefauver Committee was through with him, denied meeting Crane at Gracie Mansion and denied receiving cash or any contributions from Crane. In its report the committee said that it did not have “sufficient evidence to form a conclusion concerning the transactions alleged by Crane to have occurred.” But the report added:

  A single pattern of conduct emerges from O’Dwyer’s official activities in regard to gambling and water-front rackets, murders, and police corruption, from his days as district attorney through his term as mayor. No matter what the motivation of his choice, action or inaction, it often seemed to result favorably for men suspected of being high up in the rackets. . . .

  After publication of the Kefauver report, O’Dwyer declared that its charges against him were “fantastic.” He went back to Mexico and resumed his duties as ambassador. When reporters asked if he planned to resign, he answered, “No!” Newsweek magazine said:

  True, the Kefauver committee hadn’t actually proven anything against the ambassador, but, politically that was a minor matter. His own admissions had been enough to make him an embarrassment. The President was faced with demands for his recall, and while he evidently planned to ignore them, the President’s aides knew they weren’t doing the Administration any good. The irony was that Democrats had been primarily responsible for the Administration’s troubles.

  In 1952 O’Dwyer did resign as ambassador but remained in Mexico City to practice law. In 1961 he came back to Manhattan, stepped into a cab, and asked what would be worth seeing or doing in town. The driver, who failed to recognize O’Dwyer, suggested a ride around the island on a Circle Line boat. O’Dwyer said that he had done that years ago, and as the boat passed Gracie Mansion he had seen the mayor on the lawn.

  The cabbie asked, “Who was the mayor you saw on the Gracie Mansion lawn, mister?” O’Dwyer replied, “O’Dwyer.” The hackie exploded, “That crook! That thief!” When O’Dwyer finished his one-dollar ride, he tipped the cabdriver fifty cents and said quietly, “I’m O’Dwyer. I don’t find a bit of fault with you for not liking me. Many people exposed to the press feel like you do. But I have never been charged with a crime, let alone convicted.”

  Chapter 49

  ROBERT F. WAGNER’S ADMINISTRATION

  BEFORE WILLIAM O’DWYER resigned as head of the city government, he had created a mayor’s committee on Puerto Rican affairs. Only one of its fifty-one members was a Puerto Rican, and a critic described the committee as a handy and painless device that passed manifestoes and proved its use as a harmless propaganda group.

  The influx of Puerto Ricans into the city was the latest of a series of mass migrations filling the sidewalks of New York with people of alien cultures. However, this migration was different because the new-comers were already United States citizens, because most arrived by airplane, and because they settled down in a city that had become a quasi-welf are state.

  Puerto Rico, an island about two and a half times the size of Long Island, lies in the Caribbean 1,600 miles southeast of New York. Although the name means rich port in Spanish, it was far from rich, for it had few natural resources. Its high birthrate resulted in great population density, which resulted in acute poverty, which resulted in a mass exodus. The outpouring of Puerto Ricans became a torrent after World War II, and most of those who came to the mainland in search of jobs settled in New York City. It needed their labor and had a reputation for comparative freedom from prejudice. However, in 1947 newspapers and magazines began publishing articles about what they called the Puerto Rican problem.

  As had always happened in the history of New York, the new immigrants were despised by some of the minority groups whose ancestors had suffered discrimination when they landed here decades earlier. Some Negroes resented the fact that Puerto Ricans competed with them for jobs and low-cost housing. Some Jewish cabdrivers and Irish bartenders, forgetting insults heaped on their fathers and grandfathers, growled that the Puerto Ricans were taking over the city. Because from one-fifth to one-fourth of Puerto Ricans were Negroes, some New Yorkers feared that the city’s racial balance would be upset. They begrudged the welfare assistance given the Puerto Ricans and complained about the added strain put on the school system.

  Many studious Puerto Rican boys and girls bent over books in their crowded and cluttered apartments, but their application was unseen by the man on the street. One drunken Puerto Rican man or a single Puerto Rican prostitute evoked comments about all Puerto Ricans. Cultured and educated Puerto Ricans lamented that “people have a stereotype about us.” Chief Magistrate John M. Murtagh agreed, saying, “Don’t forget—in our time we Irish gave New York a few headaches, too.” But New Yorkers did forget, and they also failed to realize that Puerto Rican adults never banded together into gangs, as had the rowdies and criminals of other immigrant groups.

  Because of the new wave of immigration and because of the higher birthrates of Puerto Ricans and Negroes, 800,000 white middle-class New Yorkers fled to the suburbs. The exodus deprived the city of some of its best civic leaders, taxpayers, producers, and consumers. Their places were taken by people less concerned about civic affairs, less educated and skilled, paying fewer taxes, and needing more municipal services, such as relief.

  In 1953, the year the Puerto Rican immigration reached its peak, Robert F. Wagner, Jr., was elected mayor of New York. The son of a Ger
man-born father and an Irish-American mother, he entered this world on April 20, 1910, in an apartment house on the northeastern corner of Eighty-seventh Street and Lexington Avenue in the York-ville section of Manhattan. He almost died minutes after his birth, recovered, grew in strength, and was christened with Tammany district leader Mike Cosgrove serving as his godfather.

  Because his real father was a liberal member of Tammany and a successful politician, young Wagner absorbed political lore from childhood. He worked as a page boy for the New York state senate, went with his father to Woodrow Wilson’s summer home in New Jersey, traveled with the elder Wagner on upstate political campaigns, and moved to Washington when his father was elected a United States Senator.

  After attending public and parochial schools in Manhattan, Bob Wagner enrolled in the fashionable Taft School in Connecticut. Then he entered Yale, where he had “a hell of a good time,” as a friend remembered it, but also gave studious attention to economics and international relations. He spent a year at the Harvard School of Business Administration and one summer at the School of International Relations in Geneva, Switzerland, where he took a course under Socialist Clement Attlee. In 1937 he was graduated from the Yale Law School.

  Later that year, with the help of Tammany Hall, he was elected a state assemblyman from Yorkville. It was only natural for Tammany to advance Senator Wagner’s bright son, and for the next twenty-four years Bob Wagner remained a party regular. Two weeks after the United States entered World War II, he resigned from the legislature to enter the air force. He spent more than two years in Europe, planning bombing raids and handling judge-advocate duties, and returned in 1945 as a lieutenant colonel with six battle stars and a Croix de Guerre. A bomb blast in England left him totally deaf in his left ear.