by Bruno, Joe
Squillante didn't know whether to shit, or go blind. Seeing Anastasia dead on the floor, Squillante screamed to no one in particular, “Let me out of here!” Then he exited stage right into the lobby of the Park Sheridan Hotel, and he disappeared.
According to manicurist Jean Wineberger, one shooter was a white male, around 40-years-old, 5-feet-10-inches, with a slight built and a blond pompadour haircut. The second shooter was also a white male, around 45-years-old, stockily built and about 5-feet-7. Wineberger thought the shooters looked Italian, but she said they could have been Jewish too.
No one was officially charged with Anastasia's murder, and about a dozen people over the years have claimed they had been involved in Anastasia's hit. The most likely scenario was that mob boss Joe Profaci was given the hit by the other Commissioner members. Profaci subcontracted the actual shooting to his underling, the unpredictable “Crazy” Joe Gallo, from the Red Hook section of Brooklyn.
Gallo was not shy about taking the credit for the Anastasia hit. Soon after Anastasia was gone, Gallo was talking to crime associate Sidney Slater. Gallo told Slater that he, Sonny Camerone, Ralph Mafrici, Joe “Joe Jelly” Gioelli, and Frank “Punchy” Illiano comprised the Anastasia hit-team.
The buttons on his shirt bursting with pride, Gallo told Slater, “You can call the five of us the barbershop quintet.”
The most telling comment about Anastasia's murder was uttered by Anastasia's brother “Tough Tony” Anastasio.
“Tough Tony” told a mob associate, “I ate from the same table as Albert and I came from the same womb. But I know he killed many men and he deserved to die.”
Appo, George – The Most Successful Pickpocket in New York City's History.
His father was a crazed Chinese murderer, and his mother was an Irish alcoholic. As a result of his lack of proper upbringing, George Appo's mission in life was to be the quintessential “good fellow.”
George Appo's definition of the phrase “good fellow,” was a man who was an expert thief, one who would not cooperate with authorities, and one who would absolutely refuse to testify in court, even against his enemies.
Appo wrote in his 99-page autobiography, which was never published, “What constitutes a 'good fellow' in the eyes and estimation of the underworld is a nervy crook, a money getter and a spender. A 'good fellow' valiantly accepts the consequences and punishment of an arrest, even if the crime was committed by another. A 'good fellow' was a member of a fraternity of thieves.”
In the late 1840's, George Appo's father, Quimbo Appo, ran his own tea business in New York City before he moved to New Haven, Connecticut. In 1855, Quimbo Appo met Catherine Fitzpatrick, an Irish immigrant who was in America only for a few years. They married, and in 1856, Catherine Appo gave birth to two children. The first reportedly died in childbirth, but the second was described as, “A handsome, healthy boy, very sprightly, as white as his mother, a Yankee boy to all appearances, with only the Chinaman's breadth between his eyes.”
Shortly after George Appo was born, his father returned with his family to New York City. After working as a tea tester for several companies, in 1859 Quimbo Appo opened his own tea store on Third Avenue, between Seventh and Eighth Streets.
Quimbo Appo had a violent temper, worsened by his wife's incessant drunkenness. On March 8, 1859, Quimbo Appo came home from work and found his wife, as usual, three sheets to the wind. He began beating Catherine Appo so viciously, the landlady of their building, Mary Fletcher, and two other tenants, Margaret Butler and Mary Gavigan, interceded and tried to stop the beating. Quimbo Appo became so enraged, he pulled out a knife and stabbed Fletcher twice in the chest. Fletcher fell fatally wounded to the floor, screaming, “My God.” Quimbo Appo then stabbed Gavigan in the arm, and Butler in the head.
Quimbo Appo ran to a Chinese boarding house, but he was soon found by the police hiding under a bed. After he was arrested, Quimbo Appo told the police, “Yes, I killed her.
The front page of the Herald Tribune read the following day, “Murder in the Fourth Ward.”
Quimbo Appo's trial took place on April 11, 1859. It took the jury less than one hour to reach a guilty verdict. Even though the prosecutor, District Attorney Nelson J. Waterbury, recommended life imprisonment, a month later, Judge Davies sentenced Quimbo Appo to the death penalty. However, Quimbo Appo's lawyer appealed the case, and on May 8, 1860, Governor Morgan commuted Quimbo Appo's death sentence, and instead he gave him a 10-year term in the state penitentiary at Sing Sing in Ossining, New York.
However, because of Appo's penchant for violence, and also because he was basically a lunatic, Quimbo Appo's 10-year bit evolved into a life sentence. As a result of several violent incidents and bizarre behavior, Appo never again became a free man. He died at the Watteawan Hospital for the Criminally Insane on June 23, 1912.
After his father's incarceration, George Appo and his mother returned to their slum apartment on Oliver Street. Soon after, Catherine Appo decided to take her son and his younger sister on the ship The Golden Gate, to visit Catherine's brother in San Francisco. However, the ship was caught in a violent storm and sank. Both Appo's mother and his sister perished, but Appo somehow survived.
Appo wrote: “I cannot explain how I was saved, only that a sailor brought me to New York and left me with a very poor family named Allen.”
The Allen family lived in the rear-yard tenement alley “Donovan's Lane,” also called “Murderer's Alley.” The alley was located on a tiny strip of hidden dirt, with the tenements so close together, hardly any daylight could penetrate into the alley.
Appo wrote: “One entrance was on Baxter and the other entrance was on Pearl Street. Poor people of all nationalities lived on this Donovan's Lane. It was a common sight to see every morning at least 6 to 10 drunken men and women sleeping off the effects of the five-cent rum bought at 'Black Mike's,' which was located at 14 Baxter Street. Next door to Mike's was a second-hand clothing store owned by a man named Cohen, who was a fence, where all the crooks used to get rid of their stolen goods. Above Cohen's store was where all the Chinamen of the city lived. At the time, there were only about 60 Chinamen in all New York City, and the lane was then called Chinatown.”
Donovan's Lane was in the heart of New York City's worst slum called “The Five Points.” Stuck in this cesspool of humanity, Appo learned the tricks of the trade that enabled him to make a decent living working in a life of crime.
Appo, at about the age of 10, became part of a group of scavengers, whom the people at that time called street urchins, street Arabs, street rats, or guttersnipes. While Appo was making an honest buck working at low-level jobs, like shining shoes, sweeping sidewalks, and selling newspapers, Appo also perfected his true love: the art of picking pockets.
It was quite easy for a young boy selling newspapers to pick the pocket of an unsuspecting mark. Appo used the guise of the “newspaper dodge”: a ruse in which while he was ostensibly selling newspapers, Appo, with one hand, would wave the newspaper in a customer's face, and then with the other hand he'd pick the victim's pocket.
Appo's pickpocketing mentor was a master craftsman named Jim Caulfield. Caulfield once told a policeman, “If you will stand for a newspaper under your chin, I can take your watch, your watch and chain, and even your socks.”
In the winter of 1871, Appo was caught picking the pocket of a downtown businessman. The businessman grabbed Appo by the neck and handed him off to a passing policeman saying, “This boy just robbed $28 from my vest pocket.”
Appo pleaded guilty before Judge Joseph Dowling. The judge sentenced Appo to an undetermined time in a reform school, which was located on the naval vessel The Mercury. The Mercury housed 242 boys, who were convicted of such crimes as vagrancy, truancy, and larceny. On board The Mercury, boys learned seafaring skills, such as navigation, seamanship, military drills, and making different kinds of rope knots, which were essential in a seafaring life. There were also classes for the boys in reading, writing, and arithmetic.<
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Yet, life on The Mercury was anything but idyllic. The food was barely edible. The water was filthy, and contagious germs permeated the ship.
In 1872, the Mercury made a nine-month trip to and from Barbados. Upon returning to Harts Island off the coast of Manhattan, Appo and several other boys escaped from the vessel by lowering themselves by a rope to a rowboat. After they arrived on shore in downtown Manhattan, Appo hustled back to Donovan's Lane, and he commenced picking pockets again.
In 1874, Appo was caught by a policeman picking the pockets of a Wall Street executive. Appo tried to flee, but a passing detective followed him in hot pursuit, firing his pistol at Appo. Appo was hit once in the stomach, but he managed to escape.
Appo staggered into a building at 300 Pearl Street, and he went to an apartment that was occupied by the Maher family. While Mrs. Maher hid Appo under a bed, she ordered her son to go out in front of the apartment building to see if any policemen were in the area. When the coast was clear, Appo fled the apartment, and he received treatment at St. Luke's hospital from a physician who was friendly with one of Appo's confederates. The bullet in Appo's stomach was removed, and soon Appo was back on the streets doing what he had been doing before. Six months later, Apple was again caught picking pockets. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to two years and six months in Sing Sing prison.
At Sing Sing, Appo was reunited with his father, who went in and out of lucidity. The senior Appo was normal on most days, but on his bad days, he was delirious and said things like “I am King of the World.”
In Sing Sing, Appo was given a job in the laundry room as a “presser” of shirts. After Appo accidentally burned one of the shirts, Appo's teeth were knocked out by one of the guards. Then three guards took Appo to the guard room, handcuffed him from behind and forced him to lay face down on a paddleboard table. There Appo was given nine sharp lashes with an oar on his back and spine, rendering him unconscious.
When Appo regained consciousness, the head keeper said to him, “Do you think you can go back and do your work all right now? If you don't, we have a way to make you.”
Appo told the keeper, “You punished me for nothing, and the next time I am brought here you will punish me for something.”
Appo stumbled back to the laundry shop. He immediately took the shirts that were on his table waiting to be ironed, and he put them in a hot stove where they soon were reduced to ashes. After his dirty deed was discovered, Appo was brought back to the guard room. When he was asked why he did what he had done, Appo refused to answer. Appo was immediately taken to one of the “dark cells,” where he was imprisoned for 14 days. During those 14 days, Appo was given two ounces of bread and a glass of water every 24 hours.
After serving 30 months in Sing Sing, Appo was released on April 2, 1876. He immediately went back to picking pockets.
During the next eight years, Appo was arrested twice more for pickpocketing. Both times he was convicted and returned to prison; the last time on Blackwell's Island.
Appo escaped from Blackwell's Island by shimmying down a rope from the ship where he was working to the water down below. Appo jumped into a small rowboat, and he rowed until he docked in downtown Manhattan. Appo immediately sunk the boat, and he made his way to Mulberry Street where he was able to borrow some clothes.
The next day Appo absconded to Philadelphia.
Appo did very well picking pockets in Philadelphia. But the lure of his old haunts in downtown Manhattan, especially the opium dens, was too much to resist. Back in the Sixth Ward, Appo decided to deviate from his usual pickpocketing and engage himself in the flimflam business. Appo's chief swindle was giving store owners the wrong change for a $10 or $20 bill. This racket went fine for a while, until Appo was caught in a jewelry shop shorting the owner. However, through the machinations of the nefarious law firm of Howe and Hummel, Appo was somehow able to escape prison time.
In the early 1890's, catching pickpockets and flimflam men became the favorite pastime of the New York City police. So Appo decided to try a new scheme, a scheme in which he was less likely to be arrested. This scheme was called “The Green Goods Swindle.”
The Green Goods Swindle was a three-pronged operation. It started with the “operators,” or the bosses, who hired “writers,” who wrote circulars to be sent to all parts of the country. The basis of these circulars was to entice people to agree to purchase counterfeit money. The green goods circular contained wording something similar to this:
“I am dealing in articles, paper goods – ones, twos, fives, 10's, and 20's – (do you understand?). I cannot be plainer until I know your heart is true to me. Then I will satisfy you that I can furnish you with a fine, safe, and profitable article that can be used in any manner and for all purposes, and no danger.”
The writers would also include in the circular the prices for their goods. A typical price list read:
For $1,200 in my goods (Assorted) I charge $100. For $2,500 in my goods (Assorted) I charge $200. For $5,000 in my goods (Assorted) I charge $350. For $10,000 in my goods (Assorted) I charge $600.”
These circulars were sent to people from around the country who had invested in various lotteries. The feeling of the operators was that these were the types of people who most likely would do something illegal for monetary profit.
Confederate soldiers were also sent circulars. New York City assistant district attorney Ambrose Purdy explained why.
“Former Confederates were so emotionally embittered and economically indebted, that they viewed green goods as a good way to hurt the government,” Purdy said.
Once communication had been established between the “marks” and the operator, the marks were directed to take a train to New York City, or to the nearby suburbs. There the marks would meet the third cog in the Green Goods Swindle, who was called the “steerer.”
The steerer, one of whom was George Appo, would meet the marks at the railroad station and take them to the operator, or the “turning point,” who was waiting for the mark, either at a bogus storefront, or in a hotel room. The operator would show the marks a sample of his “counterfeit” money, which was actually legal tender. The mark, being satisfied that the money certainly looked legal, would give the operator the money that had been agreed upon to purchase the “queer bills.”
The operator would then put the bogus counterfeit money into a cheap suitcase. A diversion would then occur, temporarily deflecting the mark's attention. During this diversion, the operator would switch the suitcase and replace it with an identical one given to him by one of his confederates. Of course, the second suitcase was filled with plain ordinary paper and sometimes even sand.
At this point, the job of the steerer was to get the mark quickly out of town, before the mark realized he had been swindled. As added insurance, the operator sometimes employed the services of a local cop or a detective, and sometimes even several local cops or detectives.
If the steerer had a problem with the marks, either on the way to the train station, or on the train before it left the station, the crooked lawman would jump in and threaten the mark with arrest if the mark didn't leave town immediately. The mark would have no recourse, since he had been attempting an illegal transaction in the first place.
One such green goods swindle almost cost George Appo his life.
In February 1893, Appo was working a green goods swindle with Jim McNally as his operator. Appo was directed by McNally to meet two men at a hotel in Poughkeepsie, New York. Appo went to the New York Hotel in Poughkeepsie, and he entered the room of two men named Hiram Cassel and Ira Hogshead, both shady entrepreneurs from North Carolina.
Appo gave the men a letter identifying Appo as the connection between the Old Gentleman (the operator) and the two men. Appo said that he would take the two men to the train station to board a train for Mott Haven, where they would see the counterfeit money they were purchasing. After the transaction was completed, Appo said he would take the men directly to the train station, p
ay their fare and send them on their way back home. Appo told the men that on the way to the train station, they must walk 10 feet behind Appo, and they must speak to no one, including Appo.
Appo arrived at the train station first, soon followed by Hiram Cassel. However, Ira Hogshead had stopped just short of the train station and was talking to a policeman; the same policeman who recently had a fallout with Jim McNally over his cut in a previous swindle.
Appo approached Hogshead and asked him why he was speaking to the policeman.
Hogshead said, “I don't care to do business. I've changed my mind.”
Appo walked the men back to their hotel room, where Hogshead insisted the deal was done. Hogshead demanded that Appo leave the hotel room immediately, or there would be trouble.
Appo said he would do what Hogshead had requested, and as Appo was shaking Cassel's hand, Hogshead shot Appo in the right temple. Appo was taken to the hospital in critical condition. In a few days, Appo's right eye became infected and it had to be removed.
Cassel and Hogshead went on trial for the shooting of Appo. However, since Appo, true to the code of a “good fellow,” refused to testify against the two men, which prompted the judge to release Cassel and Hogshead with a simple $50 fine. Appo, however, was arrested for running the green goods swindle, and he was sentenced to three years and two months at hard labor. In addition, Appo was fined $250.
Luckily for Appo, after spending only a few months in Clinton Prison, on November 28, 1893, the New York Court of Appeals overturned Appo's conviction.
Feeling betrayed by Jim McNally and by green goods operators in general, Appo agreed to testify before the Lexow Committee, which was looking into police corruption and police involvement in the green goods swindle in particular.
Appo didn't tell the committee anything they didn't already know, but he was branded a rat on the streets of New York City. As a result, Appo was shunned by the very people he had done business with for many years.