by Bruno, Joe
Chalk that up as another loss for Joe Ryan.
When Ryan returned home to the Port of New York, he was not a happy camper. He denounced his West Coast opponents as “malcontents” and “communists,” and he strove to become even more strident in exercising his absolute power over the New York ILA.
One of Ryan's most effective tools in keeping his men in line was the fact he was able to issue union charters to whomever he saw fit. The men who received these charters were then able to form their own union locals. After these locals were created, the individual local bosses would kick back a substantial part of the member's dues to the Joseph P. Ryan Retirement Fund, of which, of course, there were no written records.
One such local that Ryan had in his back pocket was Local 824, which was run by Ryan crony Harold Bowers. Local 824 was particularly prestigious and quite profitable because it presided over the Hell’s Kitchen piers, where luxury liners like the Queen Mary and the Queen Elizabeth were docked.
Local 824 soon became known as the “Pistol Local,” because it was almost completely comprised of Irish gangsters who had long criminal records. Local 824's boss Bowers, an ex-con, had a criminal record as long as a giraffe's neck. Bowers had been arrested for numerous crimes, including robbery, possession of a gun, grand larceny (twice), and congregating with known criminals. Bowers was also suspected in dozens of waterfront murders, but no murder charges could ever be pinned on him.
Harold's cousin, Mickey Bowers, as murderous a bloke as Harold, was also instrumental in running Local 824. Mickey was a suspect in the murder of Tommy Gleason, an insurgent in Local 824 who tried to wrest control of Local 824 from the Bowers family. Gleason was filled with lead while he was visiting a deceased pal in a Tenth Avenue funeral parlor. Mickey Bowers was suspected of Gleason's murder, and he was brought in for questioning. However, with no concrete evidence, Mickey Bowers was released. There is no record of the Gleason murder having been solved, nor it is clear if Gleason was laid out in the same funeral parlor in which he had been shot.
In 1951, Ryan began losing control of the ILA, when his men did something they had never done before: they spat in the face of Ryan and his tyrannical leadership by going on strike. With more than 30,000 men involved (without pay of course), the strike lasted 25 days. Due to the strike, 118 piers were shut down and millions of dollars were lost by hundreds of companies who needed their goods unloaded at the docks.
The leader of this strike was not a longshoreman, but a priest named Father John Corridan.
The son of a County Kerry-born policeman, Corridan was born in Manhattan's Harlem. In 1928, Corridan graduated from Manhattan's prestigious Regis High School. After completion of his seminary requirements and assignments in other parishes, in 1946, Corridan was assigned to the Xavier Institute of Industrial Relations, on West 16th Street. There, Father Corridan met many longshoremen who told him of the woes they had suffered at the hands of men like Ryan and the Bowers cousins.
Being a street kid himself, the chain-smoking, fast-talking priest decided to do something about the abominations that were transpiring on the waterfront. Corridan teamed up with New York Sun writer Malcolm Johnson to write a series of articles entitled Crime on the Waterfront. These articles spurred writer Bud Schulberg to write the screenplay for the Academy Award-winning movie On the Waterfront, which starred Marlon Brandon and Lee J. Cobb. Actor Karl Malden played the part of Father Corridan, whose name in the movie, for some reason, was changed to Father Barry.
Soon after the New York Sun articles were published, New York Governor Thomas E. Dewey announced that the state's crime commission would open an investigation into criminal activities in the Port of New York. This investigation was called “The Waterfront Hearings.” During these hearings hundreds of men who worked on the waterfront were called in to testify (some were honest workers – others were ruthless “dock wallopers”). The workers mostly gave honest testimony, while the dock wallopers mainly invoked their Fifth Amendment rights not to incriminate themselves.
One of the men called in to testify at the Waterfront Hearings was a shady figure named William “Big Bill” McCormack. McCormack owned several businesses, including the U.S. Trucking Company, which worked extensively unloading on the Port of New York docks. McCormack was very close to Ryan, and it was alleged that Ryan and McCormack were, in fact, partners in several of McCormack's businesses.
In 1950, as a result of pressure from the New York newspapers, Mayor Bill O'Dwyer, who was in the pocket of Ryan and other known gangsters, reluctantly called for a city investigation of the waterfront. The investigation became a sham, when Mayor O'Dwyer, at the urging of Joe Ryan, appointed McCormack as the chairman of a blue-ribbon panel to investigate waterfront activities.
After months of dubious investigations, funded by New York City taxpayer dollars, McCormack's blue-ribbon panel concluded, “We have found that the labor situation on the waterfront of the Port of New York is generally satisfactory from the standpoint of the worker, the employer, the industry, and the government.”
That was obviously the “Big Lie.”
When McCormack was brought before the Waterfront Hearings, he was questioned about the previous testimony of the supervisor of employment for the Division of Parole. This supervisor had testified that, although he had never met “Big Bill” McCormack, he had met with McCormack's brother Harry many times. The purpose of these meetings was that on numerous occasions men, who were being released from prison on parole, would have the prison officials put in writing a note that said, “Mr. H.F. McCormack will make immediate arrangements for this inmate's union membership upon his release.”
It was estimated that more than 200 parolees were given “jobs” with McCormack's Penn Stevedoring Company. Some of these jobs may have been legitimate dock work, but most ex-cons employed by McCormack's Penn Stevedoring Company were nothing more than thugs and leg breakers, and sometimes murderers for the union.
When Big Bill McCormack was asked at the Waterfront Hearings why he had employed so many men with dubious backgrounds, McCormack said, “It's because I take a human view of employee problems. I'm human, and they're human.”
Two of the “human” men employed by the McCormack Penn Stevedoring Company, after they were released from jail, were John “Cockeye” Dunn and Andrew “Squint” Sheridan. Both men were eventually fried in the electric chair, after they were convicted of the murder of hiring stevedore Andy Hintz, while both killers were working for McCormack.
After McCormack's testimony before the Waterfront Commission, the New York Herald Tribune wrote, “Mr. McCormack's activities on behalf of the longshoreman's union suggest that he has been pulling the strings for Joseph P. Ryan for many years, and may, in fact, be a more powerful figure on the waterfront than the Boss (Ryan) himself.”
Joseph P. Ryan was the 209th and final witness before the crime commission's Waterfront Hearings. After one day of brutal cross examination, it became clear Ryan's days were over as Joe “The Boss” of the Port of New York. Under grueling testimony, Ryan was forced to admit that he appointed many convicted felons, like Harold Bowers, to prominent positions in the ILA. Ryan claimed no knowledge of the fact that 30 percent of the union officials he personally appointed had criminal records. Ryan also testified he had no idea that more than 45 IRA locals at the Port of New York kept no financial records, and that his hand-picked bosses had frequently given themselves raises, without these raises being ratified by the voting members of the locals.
However, the final nail in Ryan's coffin was inserted when it came to light that Ryan had misused more than $50,000 from the ILA's Anti-Communist Fund for his own personal use. Instead of scouring the docks looking for communist activities, Ryan used this money for grand dinners for himself and his cronies at places like the Stork Club, repairs to his Cadillac, and to purchase the expensive clothes that Ryan wore. Ryan also had the gall to use Anti-Communist Funds to go on a cruise to Guatemala.
Still, Ryan would no
t give up his control of the New York waterfront without a fight. In 1953, the American Federation of Labor decided to expel the ILA from its membership. AF of L President George Meany said, “We've given up all hope that the officers or members of that union will reform it. We've given up hope that the ILA will ever live up to the rules, standards, and ethics of a decent trade union.”
After hearing what Meany had to say, Ryan gritted his teeth and growled, “Then we'll hold on to what we have.”
However, Ryan's hubris lasted only for a short time. In order for Meany to allow the ILA to remain part of the American Federation of Labor, Meany insisted that Ryan step down from the post that Ryan had held for 26 years. Ryan had no choice but to comply.
Ryan's travails were not over yet. In 1954, after being convicted of violations of The Labor Management Relations Act (Taft-Hartley Act), Ryan was sentenced to six months in prison and a $2,500 fine. Ryan appealed his conviction.
However, on July 1, 1955, the United States Court of Appeals Second Circuit denied Ryan's appeal, saying, “Defendant-Appellant, Joseph P. Ryan, President of the International Longshoremen's Association (hereafter called ILA) was indicted, on three counts, in that, on three separate occasions, he unlawfully, willfully and knowingly received sums in the aggregate of $2,500, from corporations employing members of the ILA. The judge, holding defendant guilty on all counts, sentenced him to imprisonment for six months on each count (the sentences to run concurrently) and fined him $2,500. As my view is not to prevail, I shall not discuss the other objections that the accused raises, except to say that I have considered them, and that they have not convinced me that any error was committed that would justify a reversal. I would affirm the conviction.”
Ryan did his six months in the can. Then he disappeared, never to be heard from on the waterfront again.
Rynders, Isaiah
Over the years, New York City has been well-represented by Irish mob bosses: from 19th Century Tammany Hall titan John “Smoke” Morrissey, to Mickey Spillane, the powerful boss of the West Side waterfront during the 1940s-50s, to Jimmy Coonan, a mad-dog killer who ruled the Westies Gang in Hell’s Kitchen during the 1970s-1980s. However, the first Irish mob boss in the history of New York City was Captain Isaiah Rynders, and he wasn't even a full-blooded Irishman.
Rynders (1804-January 3, 1885), was born to a German/American father and an Irish Protestant mother. Rynders was first known as a professional gambler and pistol/knife fighter on the Mississippi River. In the mid-1830s, Rynders surfaced in New York City, and he immediately hitched his wagon to Tammany Hall, which was the Democratic party political machine that ruled New York City. Rynders soon clawed his way to the top of the Tammany Hall ladder. His specialty was organizing the Five Points street gangs on Election Day, assuring that the poor Irish, most of whom couldn't read or write, voted for the right person.
Rynders made himself a wealthy man as the owner of half a dozen grocery stores in the Paradise Square area, in addition to being the proprietor of several dive saloons. Rynders's first drinking establishment was Sweeney's House of Refreshment, on Ann Street, which was frequented by volunteer firemen, most of whom were gang members themselves.
In 1843, Rynders founded the Empire Club, at 25 Park Row. From the Empire Club, Rynders organized such street gangs as the Dead Rabbits, the Plug Uglies, and the Roach Guards, into a wave of political operatives that ensured the election of anyone Tammany Hall wanted elected. Some of Rynders' best men were Dirty Face Jack, Country McCleester, Edward Z.C. Judson, Paudeen McLaughlin, Jim Turner, Lew Baker, and John Morrissey, who eventually took over from Rynders as the mob boss of the Five Points area. Rynders's influence was so great at the time, his men's intense prodding of the voters led to the presidential elections of Franklin Pierce in 1852 and James Buchanan in 1856. After Buchanan was elected President, one of his first acts was to appoint Rynders to the post of U.S. Marshal for the Southern District of New York.
Whatever went on in the Five Points area, and sometimes anywhere in Manhattan, Rynders was sure to be involved with. In 1849, Rynders was almost single-handedly responsible for the 1849 Astor Place Theater Riots. The riots started as a result of a transcontinental rivalry between American actor Edwin Forrest and British actor George Macready
Macready was considered to be the finest actor on earth. However, Macready was also a snob who considered American actors to be far inferior to himself. Philadelphia-born Edwin Forrest was a New York actor who was adored by the Five Points gangs. Unfortunately, it was Macready who was the favorite of the American aristocrats who frequented the upscale New York City theaters.
In 1848, Forrest traveled to England to play Hamlet. Forrest, although he felt he was at the top of his game, was rudely treated by the London crowds and literally booed off the stage. In addition, the London newspapers excoriated Forrest as a lightweight compared to their homeboy Macready. Forrest blamed Macready for inciting the theatergoers who insulted him while he was on stage and also for the negative London press.
When Forrest returned to the United States, Rynders had already gotten wind of what had transpired across the pond. Rynders directed his cohort, E. Z. C. Judson, who wrote under the pen name Ned Buntline, to write a scathing piece, fanning the flames of the incident that had occurred in England into a conflagration of international proportions.
The tensions increased when Macready decided to make a four-week “farewell tour” in America, commencing on May 7, 1849. Macready's first appearance was scheduled to take place at the new Astor Place Theater, on Astor Place in Manhattan. As soon as Macready strutted onto the stage, Rynders rose from his seat, and along with the Irish street-gang members he had brought with him, began pelting the stage with tomatoes, eggs, shoes, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Incensed at the indignity, Macready stormed off the stage and vowed never to appear in America again.
The New York City blue-blood crowd was up in arms about Rynders's treatment of their favorite actor, Macready. Immediately, they assembled a petition with 47 signatures, which included those of Washington Irving and Herman Melville, imploring Macready to give it one more try on the American stage. Macready gave in, and on May 10, just three days after the Rynders's gang insurrection, Macready was scheduled to appear again at the Astor Theater to play Macbeth. By coincidence, Forrest was also scheduled to be on stage that same night playing Spartacus in “The Gladiator,” in a playhouse a mile south of the Astor Place Theater.
To heighten the tensions, the English crew of a docked Cunard liner announced they would become a visible presence at Macready's performance. The bluejackets decreed they would physically confront any Five Points gang member who would dare humiliate Macready again.
Rynders did not take this threat lightly. He rounded up all his boys, and they plastered posters all over New York City saying, “Workingmen, shall Americans or English rule this city? The crew of the English steamer has threatened all Americans who shall dare to express their opinion this night at the English Aristocratic Opera House! We advocate no violence, but free expression of opinion is to all men!”
New York City, Mayor Caleb C. Woodhull feared a riot, and he dispatched 350 policemen, commanded by Police Chief G.W. Matsell, to the Astor Place Theater to quell any potential violence. Woodhull also summoned General Sanders, of the New York Militia, to march his eight companies of guardsmen and two troops of Calvary to the area surrounding the playhouse. It was estimated that by 7 p.m., more than 20,000 people had assembled on streets around the Astor Place Theater, itching for a fight.
When the curtain opened at 7:40 p.m., Macready faced a full house of 1,800 people. Inside the theater, the pro-Macready contingent vastly outnumbered Rynders's group of motley gang members. For some unknown reason, during the first two scenes Rynders and his crew did not budge from their seats. The authorities hoped, in spite of all the advance rhetoric, nothing untoward would occur that night at the theater.
That hope dissipated when Macready strode onto th
e stage for a third time. Deciding this was time to act, Rynders and his gang vaulted to their feet, and they began hooting and hollering at Macready. The crowd outside took this as a cue to go into full-attack mode. A huge mob, brandishing assorted weapons, charged at the theater, screaming, “Burn the damned den of aristocracy!”
The mob threw rocks and stones, which broke all the theater's windows. Then, just because they could, the rioters busted every street lamp in sight. The police, who were vastly outnumbered, tried to squelch the disturbance, but to no avail.
Ned Buntline stood at the head of the angry mob, chanting, “Workingmen! Shall Americans or Englishmen rule? Shall the sons whose fathers drove the baseborn miscreants from these shores give up liberty?”
At 9 p.m., Col. Sanders and his troops arrived. Chief Matsell, finally giving up on his policemen being up to the task, and after being hit in the chest with a 20-pound rock, gave Col. Sanders the go-ahead to have his men shoot into the crowd. The firing commenced at a dazzling rate. Men, women, and children were hit by bullets, and a lady, who was sleeping in her bed 150 yards from the theater, took a bullet in her leg.
In a little over an hour, 22 people were killed and 150 injured. Five of the injured died within five days. Ned Buntline was arrested, along with 86 others. Buntline was tried and convicted of “inciting to riot,” and sentenced to a year in jail and a $250 fine. Rynders somehow escaped arrest, and he and his gang members hightailed it back into the Five Points.
Rynders's downfall started when he inexplicably abandoned Tammany Hall and his Irish cohorts, and joined the opposition Native American, or “Know Nothing Party.” Rynders renamed his political organization the “Americus Club,” and he aligned himself with Butcher Bill Poole, the head of the Native American Bowery Boys gang. Rynders's place at Tammany Hall, and as commander of the Five Points Irish gangs, was immediately taken by John “Smoke” Morrissey.