by Paddy Kelly
Harry would later verify that the notes were real, and that the serial numbers were the originals for the counterfeit bills they discovered last week.
For the last forty-five minutes, methods of transport of every shape and description had been arriving in front of the main gate, depositing pressmen, police and memebers of the public onto the planks of Pier 88 along Luxury Liner Row, just off 49th Street. It was utter chaos.
Normandie’s charred hull had long since been removed and moored in her berth and scheduled to depart for Naples in two hours and forty minutes, was the eloquent but ageing luxury liner, Laura Keene.
From stem to stern she was surrounded by longshoremen brandishing various tools of the trade such as bailing hooks, ’J’bars and skiff hooks. They stood shoulder to shoulder behind a rank of US Coast Guard sailors armed with white billy clubs. As an added precaution, LaGuardia had ordered the pier to be canvassed with city cops. Lucky would have more protection than any United States president.
The only people, without exception, who were permitted to board the beautiful vessel via her single gangplank, were those who the Chief Stevedore decided were legitimate ticket holders. For fear of trouble, the crew members had been ordered to report the night before.
“Fuckin’ Sicily! Whatta shit hole! I’ll be back here before the end of the year. Have everything ready.” Lucky directed his comments to Socks Lanza, who was sitting directly across from him in the black Chrysler limousine as they pulled off Bank Street onto the pier.
“Whatever happened with that treasury agent, wanted to get in on the ground floor with us?” he asked.
“Was gonna come up from DC so we could see what he had. Never showed for the meet.”
“Fuck him. There’s plenty’a others where he came from. Keep things ready, you’ll hear from me in a coupl’a months.”
As the limousine turned off Bank Street and drove onto the dock, past the No Vehicles Beyond This Point sign, the longshoremen forcibly parted the mob of reporters and rubber-neckers.
Lanza was compelled to yell over the din of the crowd as they got out of the car.
“Hey, Charlie!”
“Yeah?”
“How does it feel to be a star?”
With his topcoat draped over his shoulders, he made his way to the gangplank escorted by six of Lanza’s union men, while ten federal officials, representatives of various agencies, rushed to meet him but were not allowed to come in contact. As soon as his foot touched the deck of the Laura Keene, the Feds considered their duty done, and disapeared. Despite the fact his deportation was ordered by the US government, Lucky was determined to disallow them to play a part in the actual execution of the order.
Although he had no idea what he would have done had trouble broken out, the Captain of the liner considered it his duty to be there when his famous guest came aboard, and so stood by symbolically at the top of the gangplank.
The reporters were unable to accept the fact that they were not going to get to grill Lucky and so pushed forward and shouted questions at him, even after he was out of sight. When this tactic failed, they turned back on the government bureaucrat standing to the side of the ramp, on the inside of the human cordon.
“We were told by Immigration there was gonna be a press conference with Lucky!” one reporter yelled out, receiving jeers of support from his colleagues crowded around the entrance, unable to cross the triple picket line. Formal notices had been sent to the press by INS that Lucky would give a press conference. Unfortunately, no one at INS had told Lucky.
The lanky INS officer now stood erect on the gangplank, behind the army of longshoremen, and adjusted his glasses as he responded to the agitated demands of the press corps.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, in an attempt to placate the angry mob. He made his way up the ramp and vanished into the passageways of the ship, only to return a few minutes later, physically escorted by two of Lucky’s torpedoes back to the top of the gangplank.
“Ahh… Mr Luciano has changed his mind and declines to speak to the press at this time.”
“Give us a break! Your office released an official memo yesterday saying he would talk to us if we showed up!”
“This wouldn’t be a political ploy to show us what a good job you’re doin’after we criticised you for lack of criminal deportations during the war, would it, Francis?” one reporter shouted out.
“Well? How ’bout it, ya schmuck!”
The government official made a lame attempt at self-defence. “Mr Luciano just wants to relax in his modest accommodation and is looking forward to seeing his homeland.”
The reporters had little alternative but to mill around the dock and speculate.
“What the hell is all the mystery? It ain’t like his deportation wasn’t in the papers for the last two weeks!” one of the frustrated pressmen said to a colleague.
Being pushed aside to make way for a second, third and fourth limousine, the second reporter responded as they watched a New York District Court judge, a well-known former police official and several prominent businessmen get out of the cars, “There’s your answer!”
Impeccably dressed and bearing fruit baskets, boxes of expensive clothes and other gifts, the newly arrived entourage approached the gangplank brandishing Longshoreman’s Union identity cards.
“Dock workers musta gotta raise!” the second reporter commented as the officials were admitted to the ship.
“Yeah, looks like they’re payin’ pretty good these days!”
The first reporter, determined not to accept the chain of events, made his way to the gangplank entrance, only to be stopped with a hand to the chest by a pugnacious stevedore. “Sorry, dock woirkers and union members only. Dis here’s a dangerous place. You could axsa’dentally trip over a deck fixcha or somethin’. Next ding ya know, dar’s lawsuits!”
The reporter looked to the New York City policemen who were standing a short distance away, watching the scene.
“Well? How ’bout it?” he addressed them, in a frustrated tone. The two cops smiled at each other, and shrugged to the reporter before resuming their conversation about the Yankees’victory over the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Lucky’s deportation was in reality a bon voyage party in the grandest sense. Anyone entering the first class cabin was greeted with visions of elaborate, oversized fruit baskets, a room full of dignitaries, canapés and a glass of Dom Perignon served by a ship’s steward who was standing behind the four foot long, chocolate layer cake in the shape of Luxury Liner.
There was no name on the hull.
No one showed up without an envelope, a small package, or, in Frankie Costelloe’s case, a valise full of cash to pay homage to the god of organised crime who, in 1907, arrived at this very same port, riding in steerage on a freighter which was one step above a garbage scow. Now, with his abject poverty and squalor a distant memory, Lucky Luciano was being sent off with the honours of a prince.
Aprince of thieves.
EPILOGUE
The ineffectiveness of Operation, or Project, Underworld, will probably never be officially acknowledged. No case of sabotage in the operational area of the New York City waterfront was ever discovered or claimed. Twelve would-be German saboteurs did land out in Long Island but, apparently underestimating the requirement for a local dialect, were quickly apprehended when one of them stopped to ask directions. The last of them were captured in a high-speed pursuit through Times Square. Apparently they underestimated the Midtown traffic, too.
For more than thirty years, officials denied the existence of the operation, in all probability motivated by their apparent poor judgement in employing high profile, organised crime figures in a top secret operation, whom they had earlier touted as the scum of the earth. However, in fairness to its originators, spurred on by desperation and panic, it must have seemed like a good idea at the time.
Coincidentally, on the morning of the 9th of February, 1942, as Normandie was meeting her demise, Roosevelt ve
toed HR 6269, a bill which sought to require all aliens to register with official authorities. Roosevelt believed the bill would impede the spirit of co-operation between allied nations as it was worded specifically to include foreign dignitaries.
As regards the players, D. A. Thomas Dewey made two attempts at Governor based on his prosecution record, and won in ’42. Attempting to follow the Yellow Brick Road, he ran for presidential nominee for the Republicans and lost to Wendall Willkie, who lost the election to FDR. He was re-elected Governor, got the Republican candidacy in ’44 and lost himself to FDR. He gave up in 1952 and went into private practice in upstate New York where he could frequently be seen in organised crime establishments gambling and socialising in his off hours.
The Kefvauer investigators noted this, called him as a witness during their infamous ‘hearings’, and he told them he was too busy to testify. In 1964, over the high-profiled and energetic protests of the Italian-American community, they named the New York State Thruway after him.
Speculation continues as to why he agreed to approve parole for Luciano. He turned white and his mouth dropped open in 1940 when he found out from a fellow prosecutor how close he came to being assassinated by Dutch Schultz and that it was Lucky who saved his life. He also knew Lucky had done something for the war effort. However, at least two sources, Luciano and Lansky, admit he received up to $90,000 from the Unione for his 1946 governor campaign. He was later heavily implicated and then connected in dealings with Meyer Lansky, specifically with Mary Carter Paints’ national conglomerate and Resorts International.
Thomas Dewey died in 1971.
Frank Hogan, former Chief-of-Staff to Dewey, retired from public office after gaining notoriety by prosecuting the perpetrators of the quiz show scandals, comedian Lenny Bruce for obscenity and several college basketball teams for rigging games and later assisted Senator ‘Tail Gunner Joe’ McCarthy in his infamous witch hunts. He was re-elected nine times, retired in 1973 and died in April of 1974.
Murray Gurfein joined the OSS, served with distinction in France and was a assistant prosecutor in the Nuremberg Trials. He was later appointed by Nixon to be a US District Court Judge and went against the government in the famous Pentagon Papers Trials. He died in 1979.
Fiorello LaGuardia, elected in 1933, was sworn in, walked to his office, phoned DA Dewey and told him to arrest Luciano. From that point on, he spent his life cleaning up and rebuilding New York City. Bennet Field on Long Island was eventually renamed several times, but to this day remains LaGuardia Airport. He retired after three terms and died in 1947.
Charles Heffenden, the unsuspecting lynchpin of Anastasia’s original plan to get Lucky released, retired after the war and became very sick in the early fifties. He was the key figure who refused to help Luciano later in his bid for freedom after the war. However, with some reticence, Heffenden testified before the circus-like freak show which became known as the Kefvauer Hearings in the early fifties, stating that Lucky did help the government. Sort of. He died in 1952.
J. Edgar Hoover, who started his dubious career in 1919, was permitted to remain in power until his death in May of 1972. Both Johnson and Nixon waived mandatory retirement rules to allow him to linger on the thrown. He remained “the best Director organised crime ever had”, until the Kefvauer Hearings focused the spotlight on organised crime after the famous Apalachain bust occurred. Up to forty members of the various families were arrested when their meeting was accidentally discovered, as somebody drove by a remote house in upstate New York and saw all the flashy cars and well-dressed people wearing expensive Italian shoes. It was then that the American public realised that, aside from the government, crime was also organised in the US. These events made it no longer profitable or politically advantageous for Hoover to ignore the now unsolvable problem.
Only weeks after the sinking of the Normandie, Albert Anastasia, born Umberto Anastasio, President and CEO of Murder Inc., became Private Anastasio US Army, enlisting presumably to disappear for a while. The photo of his death, which appeared on the front page of the New York Times, is world-renowned as he lies covered in blood, his bullet-riddled body sprawled out on the floor of a New York City barber shop where, in a fit of confusion after being shot several times, he attacked the mirror thinking it was his assassins. His murder on October 25th, 1957 in the barber shop of the Park Sheridan on 56th Street and Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, gave rise to a barber shop tradition still adhered today, at least in New York City. While getting your hair cut, the chairs face away from the mirror.
As regards the Normandie, after she was launched on October 29, 1932 with the entire world following the events, she embarked on a non-stop ten year career of notoriety. The largest object ever set in motion by man at the time, Normandie was the centre of international attention the day she took to the sea. Naturally, the world’s largest bottle of champage was used to christen her, with VIP’s and dignitaries in attendance including Madame Lebrun, wife of President Albert Lebrun, who officiated the launch and set the behemoth in motion. As the enormous hull entered the waters of the Loire, a tremendous backwash swept ashore, dousing spectators and washing workers into the river. The floating work of art would go on to set several speed and passenger records until confiscated by the US Navy at the outset WW II, when she would be stripped of her luxurious trappings and plush furnishings to be renamed USS Lafayette and be entered into the registry of the US Navy. Although captured in 1939, and not officially seized by the Navy until December 7, 1941, debates raged for the better part of a year as to whether her ultimate function should be as a troop ship or an aircraft carrier. The argument was settled at about 2:15 p.m. on February 9, 1942. Just as Titanic and Lusitania were never recovered, neither was Normandie ever salvaged. Despite the Third Naval District’s claims that she would be salvaged, she humiliatingly lay on her side, beside the 49th Street pier, (Pier 88), for nearly a year.
She was righted in 1943 and towed to the Brooklyn shipyards where, for the duration of the war, she remained a sideline spectator. In 1946 she made her final voyage, under tow, the short distance across the harbour to the Port Newark shipyards. Just as she was launched in October and Albert A. met his demise in October, it was in October they started to cut her up for scrap and, thanks to her massive size it took until the following October to complete the job. I was once shown what I was told was a piece of her superstructure at the home of friend in Jersey City, New Jersey. To this day, most contemporaries of Normandie know it was a fire. Many people I interviewed still believe the initial, incorrect reports, of a U-Boat in the harbour. The quote below, credited to Charles T. Collins, an 18-year-old USN ironworker, was taken from a Normandie website quoting The Journal of Applied Fire Science, Volume 8, #4, 1998-1999. The fact that there are a number of dedicated sites about the Normandie implies there is somewhat of a cult following of her short but interesting history.
“I was working on a chain gang. We had chains around some pillars and eased them down when they were cut through. Two men were operating an acetylene torch. About 30 or 40 men were working in the room, and there were bales and bales of mattresses. A spark hit one of the bales, and the fire began. We yelled for the fire watch and Leroy Rose, who was in our chain, and I tried to beat out the fire with our hands. Rose’s clothes caught fire, and I carried him out. The smoke and heat were terrific.”
As a graduate of the US Navy Damage Control/Fire Fighting course in San Diego, I can state that the above actions given in this statement, if accurate, violate no less than three, possibly as many as five of the Navy’s standard fire safety procedures at the time. However, there was no reported action taken against any worker or supervisor. There would have been no point.
The report given by Admiral Andrews to the press is taken verbatim in this manuscript from newspaper accounts. He is quoted as saying it was Mae Wests, (a type of life preserver), which acted as the initial fuel for the blaze. Other reports blamed fresh paint, a worker named Sullivan, (who is listed as a
carpenter not a welder), and various other circumstances and materials.
Admiral Adolphus Andrews’ statement in answer to the question of a possible breach by a saboteur, also gives confusing details regarding security: “I’m not telling you that couldn’t happen. However under the circumstances I’m telling you that it would have been impossible due to our unbreachable security.”
Most mainstream papers in New York reported that the fire originated on the promenade deck, but show a ball room or dining room space of some sort in their accompanying photos, despite the fact that photos of every part of the ship including the engine room were available. However, the case is not so open and shut as some may like it to be.
Thomas Dewey‘s high profiled proscecution of Luciano is well documented. The ties and relationship between Luciano and Albert Anastasia are well documented, as is Anastasia’s loyalty to Charlie. The following statement is from Wikipedia:
During WWII Anastasia appeared to have been the originator of a plan to free Luciano from prison by winning him a pardon for “helping the war effort.” (Well documented by FBI files and independent historical research).
With America needing allies in Sicily to advance the invasion of Italy and the desire of the Navy to dedicate its resources to the war, Anastasia orchestrated a deal to obtain lighter treatment for Luciano while he was in prison, and after the war, a parole in trade for the mafia protecting the waterfront and Luciano’s assistance with his associates in Sicily.
To accomplish this goal, Anastasia set out to create problems on the New York waterfront so that the United States Navy would agree to any kind of deal to stop the sabotage. The French luxury liner SS Normandie, [sic], which was in the process of being converted into a troopship, mysteriously burned and capsized in NewYork Harbor. While newspaper accounts suggested it was the act of German agents who had infiltrated the United States, it has been suggested that Anastasia ordered his brother, Anthony ‘Tough Tony’Anastasia, to carry out the sabotage.