St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

Reinhardt H. Schwimmer was a “buff.” A Chicago optometrist who actively sought the company of hoodlums and racketeers—for kicks and bragging rights.

Reinhardt H. Schwimmer was destined for fame, but not by name. Instead he would be forever linked with Frank Gusenburg, his brother Pete, Adam Heyer, John May, Albert R. Weinshank and James Clark.

On February 14, 1929, Reinhardt, along with his hoodlum friends were lined up against a brick wall at 2122 North Clark Street by two Chicago policemen. Facing the wall, they anticipated a hard time from the two officers. It was possible the cops knew George “Bugs” Moran, leader of the North Side Gang was on his way over to receive a shipment of bootleg booze. The garage, S.M.C. Cartage Company was Moran’s main headquarters, and six of the seven men lined up against the wall were Bug’s men.

What Reinhardt and the others didn’t know was the two men weren’t policemen, but henchmen for Bug’s rival, Alphonso “Scarface” Capone. What they also didn’t notice were two other Capone trigger men who had entered the garage after the two cops, brandishing Tommy guns and shotguns.

The seven men had no time to notice anything.

The garage quickly erupted in a volley of Tommy gun and shotgun fire. Reinhardt hit the ground, his head nearly blown off by a point blank blast from a double-barreled shotgun.

Reinhardt had found eternal fame, as one of the victims of Chicago’s worst mass murders—the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.

 

The Alibi

Only Capone kills like that,” Moran told the police about his main rival, a man he’d referred to publicly as “the Beast” and “the Behemoth.” And while this was true, Capone had an airtight alibi on the morning of the massacre, he was in the office of Dade County solicitor Robert Taylor, who was interested in questioning him regarding his relationship with Parker Henderson, Jr., the manager of the Ponce de Leon Hotel. Henderson had previously picked up money at a Western Union location earmarked for A. Costa. Taylor believed A. Costas was Capone.

Capone had played it safe, fleeing to his Palm Island estate in Florida. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Chicago before, during or after the hit. Phone records revealed that for several days before and after the murders, he had received no calls from Chicago or made any to his associates. For two days following the massacre, he also made a point of keeping a high profile in Miami, making sure to appear completely unconcerned with the events unfolding in his hometown.

While Capone had made sure he couldn’t be directly linked as a participant in the killings, he’s underestimated the public’s reaction to them. Along with the public, business and civic leaders, as well as reform associations demanded a stop to the ten years of gangland warfare that had defined Chicago.

“Don’t get the idea that I’m one of those goddamn radicals. My rackets are run along strict American lines. This American system of ours, call it capitalism, call it what you like, gives each and every one of us a great opportunity if we only seize it with both hands and make the most of it,” Capone had explained in previous years, during his rise to power. “I make my money by supplying the public demand. If I break the law, my customers are as guilty as I am. I call myself a businessman.”

For the most part, the public, many of whom were also against prohibition tolerated the gangsters and the service they provided, ignoring their flaunting of the law, and at times even celebrating it. Capone, along with many others, working Chicago, New York, and various other cities around the United States, were often considered businessmen.

With the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, although Capone hadn’t achieved his primary goal of killing Moran, he’d affectively neutralized him. Bugs Moran, fearing further attempts on his life, gave up any claim to Chicago and faded from the scene. As a matter of fact, on February 18, a train from Chicago to Miami held no fewer than 50 hoodlums, fading from the scene, fearing a gang war. The Chicago Tribune placed the exodus at 500 hoodlums.

Capone owned Chicago, but had cemented a national reputation as a cold-hearted killer, forever distancing himself from the ‘businessman’ moniker. He even attracted the attention of President Herbert Hoover who immediately directed all Federal agencies to concentrate on convicting Capone and his allies for their crimes.

 

Whatever ‘Bugs’ You

Born in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, Alphonse “Scarface Al” Capone (1899-1947) began his criminal career in New York, before fleeing to Chicago in 1919 to avoid the heat of two murders the police were trying to pin on him. Having left school in the sixth grade, Capone had learned his criminal trade in the James Street Gang, run by Johnny Torrio. At the time of his troubles in 1919, Torrio himself was heading for Chicago to help his uncle, Big Jim Colosimo, the city’s leading pimp, run his empire. Capone gladly joined him.

Soon after arriving, Torrio and Colosimo fell out with one another, when Colosimo, favoring prostitution, refused to get into the bootlegging business. Both Torrio and Capone recognized how lucrative it would be and ventured into the trade after arranging Colosimo’s murder. The Torrio-Capone gang began taking on other Chicago mobs, including arranging the death on November 10, 1924 of Dion O’Banion, head of the Irish North Side Gang. Unlike other gangs, they’d defeated, the North Side Gang did not crumble, but entered into a war with the duo that resulted in a February 1925 assassination attempt on Torrio, which led the gangster to give control of their gang to Capone, once he’d recovered.

Torrio wasn’t the only target of the North Side Gang. On September 20, 1926, a machine-gun motorcade consisting of six automobiles swept past the Hawthorne Inn, Capone’s Cicero headquarters, riddling the joint with an estimated 1,000 rounds. They failed to hit Capone. For two years following O’Banion’s death, his good friend “Hymie” Weiss (Earl Wajcieckowski) and George “Bugs” Moran made several attempts on Scarface’s life.

Born in Minnesota in 1893, George Moran (1893-1957) and his parents moved to Chicago in 1899, where he grew up on the city’s predominantly Irish North side, called Kilgubbin. Before he was 21, the enterprising young hoodlum had committed 26 known robberies and been incarcerated three times. One method the youngster used to raise money was kidnapping horses off delivery wagons and holding them in abandoned garages or storefronts until their owner paid a ransom. This earned him the nickname “Jesse James” and “Little Horse-Napper.”

It was while plying a criminal trade in Kilgubbin that Moran fell in with Dion O’Banion, one of the districts leading delinquents. O’Banion took Moran’s focus away from stealing horses and onto other loftier pursuits, such as pick pocketing, shoplifting, breaking and entry, armed robbery and safecracking.

With the death of O’Banion in 1924, Hymie Weiss assumed control of the North Side Gang. On October 11, 1926, three weeks after the attempt on Capone’s life at the Hawthorne Inn, Weiss was machine-gunned to death while crossing a street to enter the gang’s headquarters above Schofield’s Flower Shop. Vincent “Schemer” Drucci assumed command but was shot to death in April 1927, in broad daylight by police detective Dan Healy, while sitting in the backseat of a police car at the corner of Wacker Drive and Clark Street. While the police surrounding the car claimed Drucci had become violent, reports from witnesses, including one journalist claim the detective, for no apparent reason simply turned around and pumped four bullets into the gangster. Drucci’s death placed Moran at the head of the North Side Gang.

Moran was a man known for his violent temper and sudden outbursts. They had earned him the nickname “Bugs.” No one made his blood boil more than Capone, whom he considered less than human. While Moran had no qualms about murder, he had an aversion to prostitution. Moran was a devout church-goer and held true to his gang’s position of not allowing prostitution in their territory. Capone kept trying to set up in their area, even offering to split profits with the North Side Gang, prompting Moran to respond, “We don’t deal in flesh. We think anyone who does is lower than a snake’s belly. Can’t Capone get that through his thick skull?”¹

He could. And he knew as long as Moran ran the gang he’d forever be a thorn in his side. Capone knew Moran had to go.

 

The Plan

When Torrio left the Torrio-Capone gang he forced his partner into not only being the ‘brawn’ of the gang, but also the ‘brains.’ Surprisingly, Capone rose to the challenge, building a formidable criminal empire with close to 1,000 associates, mostly gunmen. He’d established bases on the south side of Chicago at the Lexington Hotel and at several other locations, such as the suburban areas of Cicero and Chicago Heights. He’d also set up a winter retreat in Miami Beach and a summer hideout in Lansing, Michigan. It was estimated that Capone had at least half of Chicago’s police force on his payroll, as well as politicians, states attorneys, city aldermen, mayors, legislators, governors, and congressmen.

Capone also realized the importance of public relations and was often seen about town in the company of top political, business and social leaders. He controlled his mob and gave the public what they wanted: alcohol, gambling and prostitution. His image was solid and he owned Chicago, or would if he could eliminate Moran and the North Side Gang.

To bring about Moran’s death, Capone turned to Jack “Machine Gun” McGurn (1904-1936), his principal lieutenant. McGurn was thrilled with the assignment and the opportunity to exact revenge. Previously, Moran had assigned Peter and Frank Gusenburg with the task of killing McGurn. Catching him by surprise, while making a call in a phone booth on Rush Street, the Gusenburg’s filled him full of lead from a Tommy gun and pistol. McGurn was tough and cheated them by surviving, recovering from multiple bullet wounds at Northwestern Hospital. So, when Capone gave him $10,000.00 plus expenses to wipe out Moran, he readily accepted.

Over the decades there has been much speculation as to the four hitmen who committed the crime. It was believed that the killers were brought in from out of town. Amongst those named was a ruthless bank robber wanted in four States, Fred “Killer” Burke. St. Louis-based Burke was associated with the Egan’s Rats gang, which played a part in Capone’s bootlegging network. Burke was supposedly paid $5,000.00 for his services and enlisted the help of Egan’s Rat gunman James Ray. The two were then joined by Joseph Lolordo, as well as John Scalise and Albert Anselmi, the two Capone henchmen credited with killing O’Banion, and who eventually fell victim to a baseball bat swinging Capone when he suspected them of betraying him. Another name often associated to the killings was that of Rio Burke from Michigan.

‘Little Al’ told another tale. In the late 1950s and ‘60s, ‘Little Al’ was the first microphone the Federal Bureau of Investigation (F.B.I.) were able to secretly place in a mob hangout, where it spent six years recording conversations. At that time in mob history, gangsters weren’t afraid of electronic mics, only worried about phone taps. According to mob historian and FBI agent William F. Roemer, Jr., in his book Accardo: The Genuine Godfather, ‘Little Al’ picked up a conversation between Tony Accardo and Murray Humphreys in which they reminisced about the massacre and revealed the four shooters were McGurn, John Scalise, Albert Anselmi and Tony Accardo himself.

 

The Setup

Aware that Moran ran his bootleg distribution operation out of 2122 North Clark, McGurn rented an apartment at 2119 North Clark, paying a week’s rent in advance, and brought in two members of Detroit’s Purple Gang, Harry and Phil Keywell to watch the cartage company. He then had Claude Maddox, a Capone associate steal the necessary police uniforms and vehicle. Finally, he supplied a booze hijacker with a shipment of Old Log Cabin whiskey, originating from Canada, and had him offer it to Moran at $57.00 per case, an excellent price. He also had the hijacker arrange the day, time and place of the deal. Everything was set up.

 

St. Valentine’s Day

On the morning of February 14, 1929, the seven victims gathered in the garage, waiting for the boss to arrive. Forty-year-old Pete Gusenburg had been a criminal for about 25 years, with a criminal record including burglary, robbery and hoodlumism. He’d all ready served three years in the Illinois State Penitentiary at Joliet and another three years in a federal penitentiary for participating in the 1923 Dearborn Station mail robbery, which netted $4 million.

Frank Gusenburg, Pete’s younger brother was 36-years-old and luckier than his sibling in that he’d managed to beat most raps, including murder. He’d only done 90-days on a sentence of disorderly conduct.

Adam Heyer, alias Frank Sneyder, was the owner of the S.M.C. Cartage Co. and part owner of the Fairview Kennels, a dog racing track which competed with Capone’s Hawthorne Club. The 35-year-old had also done time in Chicago’s Bridewell Jail in 1908 for robbery and time in Joliet in 1916 for his part in a confidence racket.

John May, in his mid-forties, was a father of seven and a one-time safe-blower. He was presently working as a mechanic for the cartage company. Albert R. Weinshank was connected to the Central Cleaners and Dryers Co., a prestigious firm Moran was interested in. Moran had backed him in the Alcazar Club at 4207 Broadway, which was an outlet for Moran’s booze. In his early forties, James Clark, Moran’s brother-in-law, was a killer who had done time for burglary and robbery in Illinois prisons. He was one of Moran’s top henchmen. The final man was the above mentioned Reinhardt H. Schwimmer.

Little did they know, but Moran, along with his two top guns, Willie Marks and Ted Newberry were running late. When the Keywells saw the booze arrive and spotted someone they thought was Moran (possibly Al Weinshank) arriving at the garage at 10:30 a.m., they made the call to McGurn, who was waiting in a nearby phone booth. He immediately moved in with the other three killers, arriving at the garage with the police car’s gong clanging. Moran and his two gunmen, who were approaching the garage, spotted this and backed off, anticipating a police shakedown.

Once the two fake cops had disarmed the men and lined them up against the wall, the other two men entered and together they cold-bloodedly killed them—all except for Frank Gusenburg, who was found alive at the scene with 22 bullets in him. He died three hours later in the hospital. The two gunmen posing as policemen then turned their guns on the two others and escorted them out to the police car, where the four of them took off. This gave the impression to bystanders that the police had caught the culprits. It all went smoothly.

 

The Aftermath

The first cop on the scene was Sergeant Thomas Loftus. Lieutenants John L. Sullivan and Otto Erlanson of Chicago’s Homicide Division were assigned to investigate the scene. Immediately, Capone and his organization came under suspicion, but, of course, Capone had expertly planned his alibi. McGurn did so also.

Realizing he’d come under suspicion, McGurn orchestrated his own alibi, checking into the Stevens Hotel on South Michigan with his showgirl girlfriend Louise Rolfe, under the pseudonym Vincent Gebaldi. Checking in under his real name would have raised suspicion that he was trying to set up an alibi. When he was arrested for the crime, Rolfe explained he was with her at the time of the killings, providing for him what the press dubbed ‘the Blonde Alibi.’ Later, when it was proven false and McGurn was charged with perjury, he married Rolfe, which now gave her the right to refuse to testify against her husband in court.

The authorities had nothing to go on. The only witnesses to the crime was Frank Gusenburg, who in the little time he had left refused  to say who shot him, and Highball, a German Shepherd watchdog who was tied to a pipe.

 

A Miscalculation

“Nothing that’s ever happened in this town since Prohibition can compare with it,” said Patrick Roche, a federal investigator of the massacre. “Never in all the history of feuds or gangland has Chicago or the nation seen anything like today’s wholesale slaughter. I’ve seen Chicago’s booze and vice rackets for years, but never before have seven men been lined up and shot down in cold blood. Never has there been such a massacre.”²

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre generated national headlines and national outrage. Capone had miscalculated, the massacre destroying his carefully planned public image and beginning his downfall. As noted above, now, even the President wanted something done about the high profile gangster.

For more than a decade, citizens had put up with gangland killings. As long as no innocent parties were gunned down, all was all right. Killers were killing killers. And, as long as the killings were drive-by attacks or similar there was a belief that at least the victims had a chance to fight back and defend themselves. It was like the Wild West and somewhat tolerable. On February 14, 1929, four cold-blooded killers line up predominantly seven other cold-blooded killers, unarmed them and shot them in the back. According to Dr. Herman N. Bundesen, the Cook County coroner, each man had been shot at least 15 times. The nature of the deaths were appalling and unacceptable, and ended Capone’s love affair with Chicago, resulting in a new determination by the authorities to bring him down, which they eventually did for tax evasion.

As for McGurn, the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre eventually caught up with him. On February 13, 1936, he was gunned down in a bowling alley by three men who threw a comic valentine on the gangster’s bullet-ridden body. It was immediately speculated that the hit was a long overdue retaliation for the massacre by members of the now depleted and ineffective North Side Gang. Others felt it was the work of Capone’s organization, who had decided to eliminate one of their own and used the anniversary of the massacre to create false leads for the police to consider and follow. Much like the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre deaths, no one was ever brought to trial for McGurn’s murder.

As previously noted, Moran, the target of the massacre, faded from the scene, returning to armed robbery as a means of getting by. He died in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary while doing time for a post office heist. He’d outlived Capone by ten years.

 

1. Sifakis, Carl. The Mafia Encyclopedia: From Accardo to Zwillman. NY: Facts On File Publications, Inc., 1987
2. Bergreen, Laurence. Capone: The Man and the Era. Simon & Schuster, 1994.