+ Reply to Thread
Page 1 of 2 1 2 LastLast
Results 1 to 10 of 13

Thread: The Jewish History Series

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Post The Jewish History Series


    The Crime of the Century (1924)


    Nathan Leopold (far left) and Richard Loeb (far right)
    with Clarence Darrow (center) in court.

    The crime that captured national attention in 1924 began as a fantasy in the mind of eighteen-year old Richard Loeb, the handsome and privileged son of a retired Jewish Sears Roebuck vice president. Loeb was obsessed with crime. Despite his high intelligence and standing as the youngest graduate ever of the University of Michigan, Loeb read mostly detective stories. He read about crime, he planned crimes, and he committed crimes, although none until 1924 were crimes involving physical harm to a person. For Loeb, crime became a sort of game; he wanted to commit the perfect crime just to prove that it could be done.

    Loeb's nineteen-year old partner in crime was his homosexual lover, another young Jew named Nathan Leopold. Leopold was interested in ornithology, philosophy, and especially, Richard Loeb. Like Loeb, Leopold was a child of wealth and opportunity, the son of a millionaire box manufacturer. At the time of their crime, the brilliant Leopold was a law student at the University of Chicago and was planning to begin studies at Harvard Law School after a family trip to Europe in the summer. Leopold already had achieved recognition as the nation's leading authority on the Kirtland warbler, an endangered songbird, and frequently lectured on the subjects of his ornithological passion.

    Loeb and Leopold had an intense and stormy relationship. At one time Leopold contemplated killing Loeb over a perceived breach of confidentiality. This relationship, described by Darrow as "weird and almost impossible," led the two boys to do together what they almost certainly would never have done apart: commit murder.

    Murder was a necessary element in their plan to commit the perfect crime. The two teenagers spent hours discussing and refining a plan that included kidnapping the child of a wealthy parents, demanding a ransom, and collecting the ransom after it was thrown off a moving train as it passed a designated point. Neither Loeb nor Leopold relished the idea of murdering their kidnap victim, but they thought it critical to minimizing their likelihood of being identified as the kidnappers.

    Motives are often unclear, and they are in this trial. The defense's claim was that the boys were insane. The prosecution came up with a much more pragmatic and probable theory: that ransom money was needed to pay off their gambling debts incurred at local speakeasies and clubs in Prohibition-era Chicago. There was also the buggery factor: Leopold later wrote that "Loeb's friendship was necessary to me-- terribly necessary" and that his motive, "to the extent that I had one, was to please Dick." For Loeb, the crime was more an escape from the ordinary; an interesting intellectual exercise.

    The victim of the two young Jews turned out to be an acquaintance of the two boys, another Jewish child named Bobby Franks. Franks was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

    On May 21, 1924 at about five o'clock in the afternoon, Bobby Franks was walking home from school when a gray Winton automobile pulled up near him. Loeb asked Franks to come over to the car, asked him to get in the car to discuss a tennis racquet, then drove off with him.

    At some point during the next several hours the twelve year-old was brutally stabbed to death with a chisel. Though most evidence points to Loeb as the actual killer, there is some dispute about this, as there is over the time of the killing. Medical examination revealed that Franks was first sodomized, and then killed later. In yet another example of the way the crime was soft-pedaled by the media, this fact was never mentioned in court and was only discovered years later when researchers actually uncovered and read the autopsy report. It may be significant that in his long and self-serving autobiography after his release from prison, Nathan Leopold absolutely refused to discuss the crime itself or reveal any new facts about who did what and to whom.

    After the murder Leopold and Loeb drove their rented car to a marshland near the Indiana line, where they poured hydrochloric acid over Franks's naked body to make identification more difficult, then stuffed the body in a concrete drainage culvert. The boys returned to the Loeb home where they burned Franks' clothing in a basement fire.

    That evening Mrs. Franks received a phone call from Leopold, who identified himself as "George Johnson." Leopold told Franks that her boy had been kidnapped, but was unharmed, and that she should expect a ransom note soon. The next morning the Franks family received a special delivery letter asking that they immediately secure $10,000 in old, unmarked bills and telling them to expect further instructions that afternoon. Leopold ("George Johnson") called Jacob Franks, Bobby's father, at three o'clock to tell him a taxi cab was about to arrive at his home and that he should take it to a specified drugstore in South Chicago. Just as Franks headed out to the Yellow Cab, a second call came, this one from the police, spoiling hope that the perfect crime would be executed. The body of Bobby Franks had been identified; a laborer happened to see a flash of what turned out to be a foot through the the shrubbery covering the open culvert where the body had been placed.

    Ransom Note Sent to Franks

    There would have been no arrests and no trial but for what the prosecutor called "the hand of God at work in this case." A pair of horn-rimmed glasses were discovered with the body of Bobby Franks. The glasses, belonging to Nathan Leopold, had slipped out of his pocket as he struggled to hide the body. They had an unusual hinge and could be traced to a single Chicago optometrist, who had written only three such prescriptions, including the one to Leopold.

    When questioned about the glasses, Leopold said that he must have lost them on one of his frequent birding expeditions. He was asked by an investigator to demonstrate how the glasses might have fallen out of his pockets, but failed after a series of purposeful trips to dislodge the glasses from his coat.

    Questioning became more intense. Leopold said that he spent the twenty-first of May picking up girls in his car with Loeb and driving out to Lincoln Park. Loeb, when questioned separately, confirmed Leopold's alibi. Prosecutors were on the verge of releasing the two suspects when two additional pieces of evidence surfaced.

    First, typewritten notes taken from a member of Leopold's law school study group were found to match the the type from the ransom note, despite the fact that an earlier search of the Leopold home turned up a typewriter with unmatching type. Then came a statement from the Leopold family chauffeur, made in the hope of establishing Nathan's innocence, that spelled his doom. He said he was certain that the Leopold car had not left the garage on the day of the murder.

    Loeb confessed first, then Leopold. Their confessions differed only on the point of who did the actual killing, with each pointing the finger at the other. Leopold later pleaded with Loeb to admit to killing Franks but, according to Leopold, Loeb said, "Mompsie feels less terrible than she might, thinking you did it and I'm not going to take that shred of comfort away from her."

    The Loeb and Leopold families hired Clarence Darrow and Benjamin Bachrach to represent the two boys. It was Darrow's decision to change the boys' initial pleas to the charges of murder and kidnapping from "not guilty" (suggesting a traditional insanity defense) to "guilty." Officially, this decision was made to prevent the state from getting two opportunities to get a death sentence. Unofficially, it was taken to prevent the prosecution from presenting evidence of of the two killers's buggery both of one another and their victim, which would have gotten them sent to the gallows for sure. Bear in mind that this was 1924. Jews were not yet immune from the law as they would become in our own time, and homosexuality was regarded with horror and simply never even spoken of.

    With "not guilty" pleas, the state had planned to try the boys first on one of the two charges, both of which carried the death penalty in Illinois, and if it failed to win a hanging on the first charge, try again on the second. The guilty plea also meant that the sentencing decision would be made by a judge, not by a jury. Darrow's decision to plead the boys guilty undoubtedly was based in part on his belief that the judge who would hear their case, John R. Caverly, was a "kindly and discerning" man. Of course, the defendants being wealthy Jews and this being Chicago in the 1920s, Darrow could also have based his trust on the likelihood that the fix was in.

    The problem was that rumors of buggery had leaked out as well as the horrifying details of Bobby Franks' murder, and public opinion was seemingly unanimous in calling for death. Darrow did not want to face a jury.

    The defense hoped to build its case against death around the testimony of four psychiatrists, called "alienists" at the time. The best talent psychiatric talent 1924 had to offer was sought out by both sides to examine the defendants. Even the Jewish "Father of Psychoanalysis," Sigmund Freud, was asked to come to Chicago for the trial, but his poor health at the time prevented the visit. The prosecution argued that psychiatric testimony was only admissible if the defendants claimed insanity, while the defense argued strenuously that evidence of mental disease should be considered as a mitigating factor in consideration of the sentence. In the most critical ruling of the trial, Judge Caverly decided against the state's objection, and allowed the psychiatric evidence to be introduced. This decision, which was considered then and now to be legally unsound, has always been cited as one of the warning signs that Caverly may have been bribed.

    The trial (technically a hearing, rather than a trial, because of the entry of guilty pleas) of Leopold and Loeb lasted just over one month. The defense presented extensive psychiatric evidence describing the defendants' emotional immaturity, obsessions with crime and nihilistic philosophy, alcohol abuse, glandular abnormalities, and insecurities. Lay witnesses, classmates and associates of Loeb, were offered to prove his belligerence, inappropriate laughter, lack of judgment, and childishness. Other lay witness testified as to Leopold's egocentricity and argumentative nature. The state offered in rebuttal psychiatrists who saw normal emotional responses in the boys and no physical basis for a finding of mental abnormality.

    On August 22, 1924, Clarence Darrow began his summation for the defense in a "courtroom jammed to suffocation, with hundreds of men and women rioting in the corridors outside." For over twelve hours Darrow babbled on and on and on. In pleading for Loeb's life Darrow argued that the Devil made him do it, or in this case, Mother Nature made him do it. "Nature is strong and she is pitiless. She works in mysterious ways, and we are her victims. We have not much to do with it ourselves. Nature takes this job in hand, and we only play our parts. In the words of old Omar Khayyam, we are only Impotent pieces in the game He plays Upon this checkerboard of nights and days, Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the closet lays. What had this boy had to do with it? He was not his own father; he was not his own mother....All of this was handed to him. He did not surround himself with governesses and wealth. He did not make himself. And yet he is to be compelled to pay."

    In pleading that Leopold be spared , Darrow said, "Tell me that you can visit the wrath of fate and chance and life and eternity upon a nineteen- year-old boy!" Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, yadda yadda yadda. The fact the Judge Caverly sat there and listened to twelve whole hours of this specious waffle is in the view of many another sign that he was bought off. No modern judge would tolerate this kind of filibuster.

    Two weeks later Caverly announced his decision. He called the murder "a crime of singular atrocity." Caverly said that his "judgment cannot be affected" by the causes of crime and that it was "beyond the province of this court" to "predicate ultimate responsibility for human acts." Nonetheless, Caverly said that "the consideration of the age of the defendants" and the possible benefits to criminology that might come from future study of them persuaded him that life in prison, not death, was the better punishment. He said that he was doing them no favor: "To the offenders, particularly of the type they are, the prolonged years of confinement may well be the severest form of retribution and expiation."

    Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold were moved to the Joliet penitentiary. In 1936, Loeb was slashed and killed with a razor in a shower room fight with James Day, another inmate whom he was attempting to rape. (One newspaper wag stated that Loeb had committed a grave grammatical error, when he “ended a sentence with a proposition.”) Leopold rushed to the prison hospital to be at his old friend's bedside as he died. Day claimed, apparently truthfully, that he was resisting Loeb's sexual advances, and he was acquitted by a jury.

    In 1958, after thirty-four years of confinement, Leopold was released from prison. To escape the publicity accompanying the release of Compulsion, a movie based on the 1924 crime (and which Leopold and his lawyer, Elmer Gertz, challenged in a lawsuit as an invasion of privacy), Leopold migrated to Puerto Rico. He earned a master's degree, taught mathematics, and worked in hospitals and church missions. He wrote a book entitled The Birds of Puerto Rico. Despite saying in a 1960 interview that he was still deeply in love with Richard Loeb, he married. Leopold died following ten days of hospitalization on August 30, 1971.

    In 1953, Carl Austin Hall and Bonnie Brown Heady, a pair of Gentile alcoholics, kidnapped twelve year-old Bobby Greelease and murdered him in Missouri. They were convicted after a short trial and executed in the gas chamber three weeks later. No Clarence Darrow came to their defense. But then, they weren't rich, spoiled young Jews.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default Croaking Beansie (1912) -- Lesson #2


    Croaking Beansie (1912)


    It was very hot and sticky, even past midnight, on July 15th, 1912. Windows were open and people were sleeping on their fire escapes in hopes of catching a little of the nightly breeze wafting across Manhattan. It had been terribly hot for a week. Although it was Monday night the Tenderloin--an entertainment and low-life area off of Times Square in New York City--was still lively with the after-show crowd coming and going to the restaurants and gambling joints. Hotel Metropole, near 43rd and Broadway, had a few loungers drinking and discussing the latest gossip. A major topic was the imminent discloser in the newspapers of grafting cops connected to the gambling industry.

    This was the favorite hangout of a Jewish gambler named Herman Rosenthal, nicknamed "Beansie," as well. Most nights he could be found there, dressed in a dapper and natty way. That is where he was on July 15th waiting for a reporter to whom he was a confidant. He was growing nervous and impatient when someone he recognized came in and summoned him outside. He got up, slapped down a dollar to cover an eighty cent tab, and walked to the door still smoking his cigar.

    Outside the brilliant arc lights momentarily blinded him and he did not see the four men -- some say five -- walk up. Five shots rang out. One went wild, lodging in the door frame of the hotel. Others hit the mark. One shot hit him in the neck, one in the nose, and two on the side of the head. The shots were at such close range that there were powder burns on the side of his face. He died almost immediately. It was one A.M. The shooters quickly got into a 1909 slate-colored seven passenger Packard with the license number "New York 41313" and sped off at the thundering speed of 35 mile per hour. It was widely reported that this was the first killing in American history in which an automobile figured prominently.

    But it was not the first gangland killing in New York City. In fact, there had been a flurry of such murders even in the past week. This was for several reasons. First, the vice world was in turmoil due to the recent crusades by the police to close up the joints. Second, the nature of gangs was changing along ethnic lines. In the past most gangs like the Whyos and the Dead Rabbits were connected to Irish roughs, with lots of fist fights. [See the movie Gangs of New York.] Now, however, the Jews had emerged and there was no love lost between the two groups. As to add some spice there was a sprinkling of Italians working their way into the underworld of New York. Both the Jews and the Italians leaned toward knives and guns in their battles.

    Herman Rosenthal had been born in one of the Baltic provinces of Russia but came as a child of five, in 1879, to the East Side Jewish enclave of New York City. He ran away from home at fourteen to sell newspapers and act as a runner for a pool room. He began hanging around the machine's district headquarters and became a friend of "Big" Tim Sullivan, one of the most popular and powerful bosses of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Ironically, it was "Big" Tim who as a state legislator got passed the Sullivan Law, one of the first gun control laws in American history.

    The boss took a liking to the boy and for the rest of his life Rosenthal's up and down fortunes were connected to those of the big Tammany Irishman. In the wide-open-city-days of the 1890s Rosenthal had some small time success. He opened and operated several small time gambling joints, called stuss houses, but as the cops got more aggressive all but one had been closed down by 1912. His remaining joint, just two blocks north of the Metropole doubled as his residence as well. In fact, home alone his wife could hear the barrage of shots that took her husband away forever. So could the police who kept his house under surveillance, a matter of harassment that had enraged Herman. Consequently, he had a hatred and running battle with the police especially those connected with the raids on his places. In fact, lore has it that the person he was waiting for on the night of his killing was a reporter to whom he was going to expose the corrupt and grafting police. Such an exposure would rock the world of the police, politicians and purveyors of vice.

    The gunmen who shot Herman Rosenthal were eventually apprehended. They were local thugs named: Jacob Seidenschneer (alias Whitey Lewis), Harry Horowitz (alias Gyp the Blood), Louis Rosenberg (alias Lefty Louie) and Frank Cirofifi (alias Dago Frank). All were quickly tried and found guilty of murder and sentenced to die in the electric chair. By 1914 all four had been executed without much fanfare. But a larger question remained to make this a worldwide criminal justice event: who ordered these thugs to make the hit?


    One of the chief suspects was the police, particularly one lieutenant by the name of Charles Becker. Becker was head of one of the department's three special task forces, popularly called "strong arm squads," who had been raiding Rosenthal's houses bringing him to the brink of bankruptcy. Rumor had it that Becker was a corrupt cop and that Rosenthal was going to expose him and the entire department to a news reporter. In addition, supposedly, Becker and Rosenthal had been partners in one stuss house but had a falling out.

    Then there was the head of New York's underworld, Arnold Rothstein, "The Big Bankroll" (q.v.) and the man generally credited with establishing the nationwide organized crime syndicate which became known as the Mafia. (Organized crime's top leadership has always been heavily Jewish, not Italian as legend has it.) Rothstein's interests were at stake and a big expose which resulted from Beansie spilling the beans would have cost him money and legal exposure. If the Jewish street hoods like Gyp the Blood were the puppets and Becker was the puppet master, Rothstein was the craftsman who made the puppets.

    Bridgey Webber was a member of the gambling crowd running houses in both uptown and downtown areas. Some of them provided opium as well. His relations with the police was good and his fortunes went up as Herman's went down. When he had heard that Herman was going to blab to the papers he was enraged. "Just because you are not making it don't ruin it for the rest of us," he was reported to tell Rosenthal.

    Webber and his crew ran interference for the gunmen. The night of the murder "Boob" Walker was in the Metropole. Boob was a bodyguard for Bridgey. When he left around 11pm all the taxis and most of the pedestrian traffic went to a trickle for the next two hours. Mysteriously taxis were dispatched on "goose-chase" errands far off of the Times Square area. The first police on the scene were given incorrect descriptions of the car and the gunmen by amazingly observant "witnesses"; a newspaper boy who got the correct license number had to take his information directly to the District Attorney before anyone paid any attention.

    Bald Jack Rose (his real name was Jacob Rosenzweig) was seen before, during, and after the shooting standing in darkened doorways talking to a variety of men at the crime scene. Later he admitted to being a stool pigeon for the police and that many raids on Rosenthal had been instigated based upon his information. He was known to hate Rosenthal.

    Charles Whitman, the District Attorney, was an enormously ambitious man. the conviction of the hit men was not enough. He wanted the brains behind the killing. He wanted what all prosecutors want: a conviction. But more than that he wanted to become governor of New York, which the Rosenthal case would get him shortly. He would serve two terms as governor. He wanted to become president of the United States too but that didn't happen.

    Whitman meticulously traced the murder of Rosenthal back to the corrupt cop, Charles Becker, and after two trials Becker was executed in the electric chair on July 30th, 1915, the only serving police officer in the history of the United States ever to suffer the extreme penalty.

    The Rosenthal murder case offers an clear insight into the nature of the American underworld in the years just before Prohibition changed the rules forever -- corrupt, penny-ante, treacherous, and heavily Jewish.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default The Slaughter of the Innocents (1918) -- Lesson #3


    The Slaughter of the Innocents (1918)


    He was a mild-mannered, pleasant, not too bright sort of a fellow who should have been a gentleman farmer or a small businessman. She was a slightly bossy, rather vain and silly but kind-hearted and basically good woman who should have been a German hausfrau. The four young girls should have been typical teenagers worried about zits, boys, dances, and confiding their secrets to their diaries. Unfortunately, this ill-matched couple was cursed by Destiny. He was Czar Nicholas II of Russia, and she was Alexandra the Empress.

    There was a time when world Communism, which in the early part of the last century effectively meant world Jewry, blamed this harmless, dithering family for all the evil of the world, and so they butchered the Romanovs in one of the most heartless and unnecessary atrocities ever committed by the Jewish people against humanity.

    This is neither the time nor the place to go over the long and complex series of events which led to the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Suffice it to say that Lenin and his Red Guards never actually overthrew the Czar; they overthrew a shaky caretaker government under Alexander Kerensky. Kerensky's regime had done the actual revolution-ing, almost completely bloodlessly, and more or less courteously removed the Czar from power in March of 1917. By all accounts, Nicholas was ready to go. He knew he was in way over his head.

    It was only when the largely Jewish Bolsheviks took over Russia that the Czar and his family were placed under arrest. The family consisted of the Czar himself, the Czarina Alexandra, the Czarevitch or Crown Prince Alexis, and the four daughters Anastasia, Olga, Tatiana, and Marie. They were treated with increasing contempt and cruelty, being constantly moved from place to place for fear of a possible rescue attempt by the White Guards who were resisting the Communist coup.

    In May of 1918 the Romanovs were taken to the remote Ural city of Ekaterinburg, and were confined in the house of one Nicholas Ipatiev, a wealthy Jewish burgess of the city. The Bolsheviks fenced it and boarded up all the windows with timbers that rose up to the top windows. The Gentile commander of their guard force, a man named Avdief, had occasionally done small kindnesses for the family such as giving the girls and the thirteen year-old Czarevitch Alexis extra food and delicacies such as milk and fresh fruit. But in July, Avdief was replaced from Moscow by a new man: a brutal Jew named Yakov M. Yurovsky.

    Yurovsky's surviving photographs show that his face actually resembled that of the traditional Mephistopheles, with a pointed beard and burning eyes. He literally looked Satanic, and he was considered even by many of his fellow Communists to be insane. Yurovsky brought with him a detachment of ten other men from the Cheka, the dreaded Bolshevik secret police, who had been selected to be the family's executioners. All of these men were Jews, and comprised what is known in Judaism as a minyan, the ten men required by Talmudic law to conduct any Jewish prayer or religious service--such as a blood sacrifice.

    Yurovsky brought with him sealed orders from the Praesidium of the Soviet government, signed by the Jews Sverdlov and Trotsky (Bronstein). He was to kill the entire Romanov family and destroy their remains so that no trace of them could ever be found. No one has ever accused Vladimir Lenin of being merciful, but Lenin himself later denied that he had authorized the killings and on several occasions was overheard in the Central Committee shouting reproaches at Trotsky and Sverdlov.

    The Romanovs must have known that something was coming. Their treatment at the hands of Yurovsky deteriorated immediately. His first act was to rob them of all their personal effects and jewelry; the later stories about bullets in the execution cellar bouncing off the girl's dresses because they were sewn in with diamonds were untrue. All of their servants, including the children's' foreign tutors, were taken away from them and deported to various parts of Russia, except for one lady in waiting, Anna Demidova, their family physician Doctor Botkin, their faithful cook Kharitonof and one footman, a man named Trupp. These four refused to desert the doomed family, even though Nicholas and Alexandra took them aside and implored them to leave while they still could. The four of them again refused.

    Sometime in the early hours of July 16th, 1918, the family and the four remaining companions were awakened and ordered to get dressed, being told they were going to be moved again. Instead they were taken downstairs into the cellar of the house, a fairly spacious basement with stone walls. Yurovsky marched in and behind him came the ten Jewish killers with rifles.

    The family understood, and without a word silently knelt in prayer as Yurovsky gabbled out an official death sentence from a piece of paper and then drew his pistol, screaming curses and obscenities at them in Yiddish. The death squad opened fire. They don't seem to have realized that bullets bounce off stone walls -- this seems to have been the origin of the diamonds-in-dresses legend--and several of the executioners were wounded by their own ricochets. One detail that only emerged when the secret Russian archives were opened in 1994 was that many of the prisoners were not killed by the barrage of wild shots, and Yurovsky himself went from body to body and cut each throat, draining them of their blood kosher style.

    It should also be pointed out that many of the Soviet files on the Ekaterinburg massacre are still "missing," either held back deliberately or else genuinely removed and purged at some point in the past to save the Soviet government embarrassment. These sections are reputed to deal with the unsavoury facts surrounding the family's captivity and the mistreatment they suffered during Yurovsky's brief command, including the allegation that the four princesses were repeatedly gang-raped by the Jewish guards.

    The murderers had a lot of trouble disposing of the evidence. The bodies were loaded into trucks and taken far out into the trackless Ural forest. There the killers tried to burn them, but the ground was wet and they did not have enough petrol. Then they tried to dissolve the corpses in acid. Finally they threw the mangled mess down into a flooded collapsed mineshaft. Later they decided to move the remains and hide the evidence of their crime in a deeper mineshaft, but by then the pressure of the advancing White Army forced the Bolsheviks to leave the area before this could be done.

    The Ipatiev house was destroyed to avoid it becoming a place of pilgrimage. For many years the location of the bodies of the last of the Czars and his family was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Soviet state. For a long time the actual location was lost to memory, but a clandestine Soviet expedition in 1979 managed to discover the site again. For political reasons, the remains could not be exhumed. Exactly one day after taking power in 1991, Boris Yeltsin, first Russian president, order the remains retrieved, and the identification process began. Many teams of experts, Russian, British and American investigated sorted and analyzed the remains for DNA for 10 years and came to conclusion that the bones were those of Nikolai, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia and the four others who died with them.

    It should be mentioned here that DNA analysis has also conclusively proven that the woman Anna Anderson who later claimed to be Anastasia, and who died in Germany some years ago, was not Princess Anastasia, and that Anastasia's remains have been identified as conclusively as is possible after the lapse of time and the conditions of the recovery. As romantic as the legend is, Anastasia died with her parents and sisters on that hideous night.

    On July 17, 1998, the bones of the Imperial family were buried in the St. Peter's and St. Paul's Cathedral in St. Petersburg. They are considered martyrs by the Russian Orthodox Church. There is a move afoot to canonize them, although the world Jewish community and the Israeli government have lodged official protests with the Church and the Russian government and as of the time of this writing, the family are not yet officially recognized as saints. On July 16th, 2003, the 85th anniversary of the murders, a Russian Orthodox cathedral was opened and dedicated to the memory of the victims, on the former site of the Ipatiev house.

    The lesson for our time is clear. Justice and vindication in the face of Jewish evil is, in fact, possible. Damned slow in coming, but the triumph of Zion is not either inevitable or irreversible.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default The Massacre At Deir Yasin (1948) -- Lesson #4


    The Massacre At Deir Yasin (1948)


    On the night of April 9, 1948, the Jewish terrorist organization Irgun Zvai Leumi surrounded the village of Deir Yasin, located on the outskirts of Jerusalem. After giving the sleeping residents a 15 minute warning to evacuated, which was apparently a ruse to get them out of their houses, Menachem Begin's thugs attacked the village of 700 people, killing 254 mostly old men, women and children and wounding 300 others. Begin's terrorists tossed many of the bodies in the village well, and paraded 150 captured women and children through the Jewish sectors of Jerusalem.

    The Haganah and the Jewish Agency did all they could to prevent the Red Cross from investigating the attack. It wasn't until three days after the attack that the Zionist armies permitted Jacques de Reynier, chief representative of the International Committee of the Red Cross in Jerusalem, to visit the village by the surrounding Zionist armies.

    Ironically, the Deir Yasin villagers had signed a non aggression pact with the leaders of the adjacent Jewish Quarter, Giv'at Shaul and had even refused military personnel from the Arab Liberation Army from using the village as a base.
    Jacques de Reynier statement
    Chief representative of the International Committee of the Red Cross

    "On Saturday, April 10, in the afternoon, I received a telephone call from the Arabs begging me to go at once to Deir Yasin where the civilian population of the whole village has just been massacred.

    "I learned that the Irgun extremists hold this sector, situated near Jerusalem. The Jewish Agency and the Haganah's General Headquarters say that they know nothing about this matter and furthermore it is impossible for anyone to penetrate an Irgun area.

    "They advise me that I not become involved in this matter as my mission will run the risk of being permanently cut short if I go there. Not only can they not help me but they also refuse all responsibility for what will certainly happen to me. I answer that I intend to go there at once, that the notorious Jewish Agency exercises its authority over the territory in Jewish hands and that the agency is responsible for my freedom of action within the bounds of my mission.

    "In fact, I do not know at all how to do it. Without Jewish support it is impossible to reach that village. After thinking I suddenly remember that a Jewish nurse from a hospital here had made me take her telephone number, saying with a strange look that if I ever were in a difficult situation I could call her. On a chance I call her late in the evening and tell her the situation. She tells me to be in a predetermined location the following day at 7 o'clock and to take in my car the person who will be there.

    "The next day on the hour and in the location upon which we agreed, an individual in civilian clothes, but with pistols stuffed in his pockets, jumps into my car and tells me to drive without stopping. At my request, he agrees to show me the road to Deir Yasin, but he admits not being able to do to much more for me. We drive out of Jerusalem, leave the main road and the last regular army post and we turn in on a cross road. Very soon two soldiers stop us. They look alarming with machine guns in full view and larger cutlasses at the belt. We go to Deir Yasin.

    "Having reached a ridge 500 meters from the village which we see below, we must wait a long time for permission to go ahead. The shooting from the Arab side starts every time somebody tries to cross the road and the Commander of the Irgun detachment does not seem willing to relieve me. Finally he arrives, young, distinguished, perfectly correct, but his eyes have a strange, cruel, cold look. I explain my mission to him which has nothing in common with that of a judge or arbiter. I want to help the wounded and bring back the dead.

    "Moreover, the Jews have signed a pledge to respect the Geneva Convention and my mission is therefore an official one. This last statement provokes the anger of this officer who asks me to consider once and for all that here it is the Irgun who are in command and nobody else, not even the Jewish Agency with which they have nothing in common.

    "My (guide) hearing the raised voices intervenes ... Suddenly the officer tells me I can act as I see fit but on my own responsibility. He tells me the story of this village populated by about 400 Arabs, disarmed since always and living on good terms with the Jews who encircled them. According to him, the Irgun arrived 24 hours previously and ordered by loudspeaker the whole population to evacuate all the buildings and surrender. There is a 15 minute delay in the execution of the command. Some of the unhappy people came forward and would have been taken prisoners and then turned loose shortly afterwards toward the Arab lines. The rest did not obey the order and suffered the fate they deserved. But one must not exaggerate for there are only a few dead who would be buried as soon as the `clean up' of the village is over. If I find a bodies, I can take them with me, but there are certainly no wounded.

    "This tale gives me cold chills. "I return to Jerusalem to find an ambulance and a truck that I had alerted through the Red Shield ... I arrive with my convoy in the village and the Arab fire ceases. The (Jewish) troops are in campaign uniforms with helmets. All the young people and even the adolescents, men and women, are armed to their teeth: pistols, machine guns, grenades, and also big cutlasses, most of them still bloody, that they hold in their hands. A young girl with the eyes of a criminal, shows me hers still dripping. She carries it around like a trophy. This is the 'clean up' team which certainly has accomplished its job very conscientiously.

    "I try to enter a building. About 10 soldiers surround me with machine guns aimed at me. An officer forbids me to move from the spot. They are going to bring the dead that are there, he says. I then get as furious as ever before in my life and tell these criminals what I think about the way they act, menacing them with the thunder I can muster, then I roughly push aside those who surround me and enter the building.

    "The first room is dark, completely in disorder, and empty. In the second, I find among smashed furniture covers and all sorts of debris, some cold bodies. There they have been cleaned up by machine guns then by grenades. They have been finished by knives.

    "It is the same thing in the next room, but just as I am leaving, I hear something like a sigh. I search everywhere, move some bodies and finally find a small foot which is still warm. It is a little 10 year old girl, very injured by grenade, but still alive. I want to take her with me but the officer forbids it and blocks the door. I push him aside and leave with my precious cargo protected by the brave (guide).

    "The loaded ambulances leaves with orders to return as soon as possible. And because these troops have not dared to attack me directly, it is possible to continue.

    "I give orders to load the bodies from this house on the truck. Then I go on to the neighboring house and go on. Everywhere I encounter the same terrible sight. I only find two persons still alive, two women, one of whom is an old grandmother, hidden behind the firewood where she kept immobile for at least 24 hours.

    "There were 400 persons in the village. About 50 had fled, three are still alive, but the rest have been massacred on orders, for as I have noticed, this troop is admirably disciplined and acts only on command.

    De Reynier continues that he returns to Jerusalem where he confronts the Jewish Agency and scolds them for not exercising control over the 150 armed men and women responsible for the massacre.

    "I then go to see the Arabs. I say nothing about what I have seen, but only that after a first quick visit to the spot there seems to be several dead and I ask what I shall do or where to bring them ... they ask me to see that a suitable burial be given them in a place which will be recognizable later on. I pledge to do so and on my return to Deir Yasin, I find the Irgun people in a very bad mood. They try to stop me from approaching the village and I understand when I see the number and above all the state of the bodies which have been lined up on the main street. I demand firmly that they proceed with the burial and insist on helping them. After some discussion, they begin actually to scoop out a big grave in a small garden. It is impossible to verify the identity of the dead, for they have no papers, but I wrote accurately their descriptions with approximate age.

    "Two days later, the Irgun had disappeared from the spot and the Haganah had taken possession. We have discovered different places where the bodies have been piled up without either decency or respect in the open air.

    "Back in my office I received two gentleman in civilian clothes, very well dressed who had waited for more than one hour. It is the commander of the Irgun detachment and his aide. They have prepared a text they ask me to sign. It is a statement according to which I have been received courteously by them, which I have obtained all the help needed to accomplish my mission and I thank them for the aide they gave me.

    "As I hesitate, I begin to discuss the statement, and they tell me that if I care for my life I should sign immediately."
    Calling the statement contrary to fact, de Reynier refuses to sign. Several days later in Tel Aviv, de Reynier says he approached by the same two men who ask the ICRC to assist some of their Irgun soldiers.


    Former Haganah officer, Col. Meir Pa'el, upon his retirement from the Israeli army in 1972, made the following public statement about Deir Yasin that was published by Yediot Ahronot (April 4, 1972):
    "In the exchange that followed four [Irgun] men were killed and a dozen were wounded ... by noon time the battle was over and the shooting had ceased. Although there was calm, the village had not yet surrendered. The Irgun and LEHI men came out of hiding and began to `clean' the houses. They shot whoever they saw, women and children included, the commanders did not try to stop the massacre ....

    "I pleaded with the commander to order his men to cease fire, but to no avail. In the meantime, 25 Arabs had been loaded on a truck and driven through Mahne Yehuda and Zichron Yousef (like prisoners in a Roman `March of Triumph'). At the end of the drive, they were taken to the quarry between Deir Yasin and Giv'at Shaul, and murdered in cold blood ... The commanders also declined when asked to take their men and bury the 254 Arab bodies. This unpleasant task was performed by two Gadna units brought to the village from Jerusalem."
    Zvi Ankori, who commanded the Haganah unit that occupied Deir Yasin after the massacre, gave this statement in 1982 about the massacre, published by Davar on April 9, 1982: "I went into 6 to 7 houses. I saw cut off genitalia and women's crushed stomachs. According to the shooting signs on the bodies, it was direct murder."

    Dov Joseph, one time Governor of the Israel sector of Jerusalem and later Minister of Justice, called the Deir Yasin massacre "deliberate and unprovoked attack."

    Arnold Toynbee described it as comparable to crimes committed against the Jews by Nazis.

    Menachem Begin said "The massacre was not only justified, but there would not have been a state of Israel without the victory at Deir Yasin." Unashamed of their deed and unaffected by world condemnation, the Zionist forces, using loud-speakers, roamed the streets of cities warning Arab inhabitants "The Jericho road is still open," they told Jerusalem Arabs "Fly from Jerusalem before you are killed, like those in Deir Yasin."

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default The Man Who Fell From the Sky (1928) -- Lesson 5


    The Man Who Fell From the Sky (1928)


    On July 4, 1928, a Fokker trimotor aircraft took off from Croydon airfield just outside London, bound for Brussels. On board were the plane's owner, 51 year-old Alfred Loewenstein, a financier of immense wealth and influence. There were also the pilot, former WWI ace Donald Drew, as well as a co-pilot. It should be pointed out that both these men were in the cockpit which was sealed; there was no way to get from the cockpit into the passenger compartment or vice versa. Oddly enough, neither was there any kind of intercom or method of speaking to the pilot. Aircraft designers apparently hadn't thought of that in 1928. There was also a valet, a male secretary; and two female stenographers who according to contemporary accounts had just been hired from a temp agency that day, making a total of seven people.

    The plane never reached its intended destination of Brussels. Instead, at about 6:30 PM local time it landed on a deserted beach on the Normandy coast for half an hour, and no clear account was ever obtainable as to what the passengers and crew did there. Then the plane took off again and made a three or four-minute flight, landing a second time at a French military airfield nearby, where the crew told French authorities that their boss Loewenstein was missing.

    According to the four people in the passenger compartment, soon after the plane crossed the English coast off Dover, Loewenstein got up and went to the bathroom, which was a new development in aviation comfort, this particular model of Fokker being the first commercial plane ever equipped with such an amenity. It was in a small compartment at the back of the plane. After passing through the compartment door, Loewenstein went to the left and entered the bathroom. On the right was another door, which led out of the plane. There was also a door in a bulkhead separating the head from the rest of the aircraft, so anyone coming and going into rest room was not visible from the main compartment.

    After about ten minutes they noticed he had not returned and his valet, Fred Baxter, went to check on him and found ... nothing.

    A combined French and British air and sea search came up empty-handed, but two weeks later Alfred Loewenstein's body was found floating fully clothed (not nude as some reports had it) in mid-channel and picked up by a fishing trawler. An autopsy was carried out by Belgian authorities and it was discovered that Loewenstein did not die of drowning, but apparently of the pulverizing internal injuries which occurred when his body slammed into the ocean after falling for about five thousand feet. Watch that last step, Jewboy. It's a doozy.

    Loewenstein's Catholic wife Madeleine had her husband buried in Brussels--in an unmarked grave. She did not attend the funeral. A hastily held inquest, oddly convened in Loewenstein's home country of Belgium instead of England, where the flight originated, or France, where the incident was first reported, ruled that Loewenstein's death was probably accidental, and although the case made international headlines, there the matter stands to this day.

    * * * * *

    Alfred Loewenstein was a Belgian Jew of obscure origins, admittedly a brilliant financial mind. He was described in the newspapers of the time as a "notably successful entrepreneur" of the period from World War I through the 1920s. In fact, he was a high-flying international stock swindler, embezzler, and thief who spent his entire life dancing along the edge of the law and getting away with it, raking in millions of dollars and pounds and francs in the process. At one stage in the Roaring Twenties he was called "the richest man in the world." Yet so insufferably arrogant and untrustworthy was his character that even his own kind on the London Stock Exchange couldn't stand him. He was devoid of either financial or personal ethics, a serial adulterer who spent his rare occasions at home beating his wife and his children.

    Although Belgian by nationality, Loewenstein had lived in Britain since he fled from the advancing Germans in 1914. During the First World War, Loewenstein zeroed in on the incredible profits to be made in war contracting to the British Army, and managed to procure for himself a job in the Royal Army Services Corps (what we would call Quartermaster Corps) which involved supplying the British Army with various material and supplies by civilian contractors. War profiteering is an ancient commercial specialty of the Jewish people. Indeed, there is a Yiddish proverb which loosely translates as: "When the goyim bleed, the Jews shall feed."

    Loewenstein developed such an unsavory reputation in the war procurement business, and the allegations of fraud, kickbacks, and shady dealings were so persistent that in 1917 the British Army cashiered him and fired him from his job in the Services Corps. Such was Loewenstein's pull that the very next day after he was fired, he walked into his office and sat down at his old desk, this time wearing the uniform of a captain in the Belgian Army! For the rest of his life the Jew referred to himself as "Captain Loewenstein" and wore an array of medals he never earned, which made him really popular among genuine veterans who had fought in the trenches.

    When the war ended "Captain" Loewenstein was a pound sterling millionaire. How he managed to accomplish this on the salary of a lowly captain, in either army, he never explained. Loewenstein then plunged headlong into virtually every unsavory business he could find, from international arms dealing where he was the partner of the sinister and infamous Jew Basil Zaharoff, to international narcotics smuggling where he was the European representative of Arnold "The Brain" Rothstein, the Jew who was the real founder of the American Mafia. Indeed, it has always been speculated that Loewenstein's death might have had something to do with the Rothstein connection, since Loewenstein had just come back from a trip to the United States where he met with Rothstein in New York, in May of 1928.

    But above all, Loewenstein was a master of the stock market swindle, the promotion of worthless stocks, bankrupt companies, and non-existent African gold mines, anything that could part the suckers from their money. Loewenstein displayed a positive genius not only for making huge sums of money illicitly, but for staying just barely on the right side of the law. He was investigated a dozen times by police and such regulatory agencies as existed in the 1920s, in England and the United States, Europe and South Africa. The law never managed to lay a glove on him.

    All this time, Loewenstein was leading a gaudy and expensive lifestyle -- there was his manor house in the shires where he allegedly bought his way into the local fox hunt for a colossal sum, his incredible retinue, racing stable, eight villas in Biarritz, and fantastic fox-hunting weekends where the best of British society milked this Jewish outsider for stock tips (and snubbed him everywhere else). His wife Madeleine and their children lived apart from him in Brussels, and some of Loewenstein's house parties in his British country seat developed into drunken and drug-sodden orgies of sex and high-stakes gambling that shocked even the jaded flappers and jazz babies of the Twenties. Edward, Prince of Wales, who later reigned briefly as Edward VIII, had to be forcibly banned by his father King George V and Scotland Yard's Special Branch from attending any Loewenstein functions because of the immense potential for scandal.

    Loewenstein's death was odd in all kinds of ways, not just his manner of exiting from life. No real investigation was undertaken, and it looks very much as if the fix was in on an elevated level. The pilot of the death plane's story alone had more holes in it than a Swiss cheese, but Captain Drew was allowed to depart for a job in South America and never questioned again. He died of cancer several years later. The valet Fred Baxter was found with a bullet in his brain, an alleged suicide. All the other passengers on the ill-fated death flight disappeared from view; when author William Norris tried to track them down in the late 1970s all were dead, but he did manage to speak to the co-pilot's widow and get hold of the notes Loewenstein had been working on during the flight before his ill-fated trip to the crapper. After fifty years Norris was unable to make much sense of the notes; they may or may not have had something to do with his death. But one wondered how the co-pilot ended up with them in his possession and why he kept them?

    What gives the case its very odd flavor is that it is just plain impossible for events to have occurred as all six witnesses claimed--and yet none of them were even called to testify at the inquest, and the police in three countries proved themselves to be intensely disinterested in finding out what happened. Apparently Loewenstein was so universally despised that the attitude all around was "good riddance to bad rubbish."

    The official version was that after completing his ablutions, Loewenstein got confused when he left the cubicle and opened the outside door instead of the door to the cabin, stepping out and falling to his death in a cartoonish freak accident. This is horsefeathers. It couldn't have happened like that. For one thing, door was locked with heavy deadbolts on the inside, and Loewenstein would have had to slide them back. For another, the door was clearly marked "exit." In addition, the noise of a door opening on a plane in midair would have alerted everyone aboard.

    The Fokker's cruising speed was approximately 160 mph, and the 6' X 4' door through which Alfred Loewenstein was alleged to have fallen opened outward and on the after side of the doorframe, against the slipstream. Several fascinated news agencies did follow the story, and some journalists attempted to reproduce the alleged accident using the same model of airplane at cruising speed and altitude. It couldn't be done, at least not accidentally. It took two muscular male reporters wearing safety lines working together and using all their strength to force open the door in midair, against the slipstream, just wide enough for a human body to squeeze through.

    Finally, when the door eventually WAS forced open with great effort against the wind, it acted just like a braking aerology and caused the airplane to buck up and down like a bronco. There was simply no way that the door could have been opened in flight without a group effort, and without the pilot and everyone in the cabin noticing something was very wrong. These facts apply to both accident and suicide, and would seem to eliminate both possibilities.

    Another mystery is why the pilot chose to land on a deserted and (he thought) unobserved stretch of beach in France. What were the six people doing during that time? The unscheduled stop actually came out in the newspapers because someone saw them land and notified the French police, and a couple of gendarmes came down to the beach, asking if they needed assistance. The passengers and crew admitted that someone had gone overboard but refused to give Loewenstein's name. Had they not been seen, it's possible that the initial covert landing would never have been reported to the authorities. Some speculated that Loewenstein had actually been murdered on the beach and his body dumped in the drink there, but this seems contradicted by the medical evidence that he did indeed fall and also by the fact that his body was not washed up but was found floating high in mid-Channel.

    One theory that has developed down the years is that the murder was meticulously planned to the point where one of the conspirators actually had a second door for the Fokker made, removed the factory door and installed the spare. Then once in the airplane the valet and male secretary overpowered or pulled a gun on Loewenstein. (Neither the pilot nor co-pilot, remember, could have gotten into the cabin to participate in the actual murder, although they had to be aware of some kind of rumpus going on behind them. It had to have been the two men, with the two women at least looking on.) The killers removed the entire door from its hinges, which would have been much easier than trying to force it open against the air pressure of the slipstream, and kicked it out into space, and then threw Loewenstein out after it. The pilot then landed, removed the original door with the matching manufacturers' serial numbers from a storage place in the luggage compartment, and re-installed it before flying on to the French aerodrome. No door from a Fokker trimotor was ever found, but it was mostly metal and would have sunk to the bottom of the Channel.

    As Sherlock Holmes said in one of his stories, "When one has eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." The astounding fact is that the death of Alfred Loewenstein had to be murder. Anything else was physically impossible--and all of the other six people on the plane had to be in on it, because they all told a blatant and obviously choreographed lie. This included the two female stenographers who had supposedly just been brought along as temporary help and hadn't even met Loewenstein before that morning.

    But who would have the will, the finances, and the power to carry out such a complex assassination? The fact is that the list of people who wanted Alfred Loewenstein dead was the size of a phone book, and at the head of the list was his own long-neglected and abused Gentile wife Madeleine, the daughter of a Belgian industrialist whom Loewenstein had ruined and according to rumor driven to suicide. After Madeleine came droves of people Loewenstein had cheated of their life's savings, as well as one half-crazed Swiss inventor whom he had swindled out of a priceless patent for treating and hardening aircraft wing and fuselage canvas during the war. (All-metal aircraft were unknown until the 1920s.)

    There were also rumors flying about at the time of his death that Loewenstein's paper empire was about to crumble, and that the American authorities were about to indict Loewenstein for narcotics smuggling-related crimes. Could it have been a mob hit ordered by Arnold Rothstein? Rothstein was certainly capable of it, but in the 1920s the mob was even less known for subtlety than in the present day, what with all the tommy guns and such. If Loewenstein had been on the spot marked X Rothstein could have had him gunned down in New York only a month before, where Rothstein owned the cops and the judges.

    No, something this outré has a definite British feel about it. Sounds like someone was reading too many of those incredibly elaborate murder mysteries of the period and decided to try their hand, but whoever it was, they pulled it off. It could have been a government-ordered rub-out, by one of James Bond's precursors. But it also needs to be remembered that in his time, Loewenstein had ripped off just about every major figure in the British financial world.

    I know it's difficult for us now to envisage a time when the Jews didn't rule the roost in the upper strata of society, but such a time once was. In those days the British upper class were made of much sterner stuff than these boy-buggering weenies we've got today who act as the American President's poodles. Some of those Victorian holdovers would not have appreciated being robbed and deceived by a jumped-up pushcart peddler like Al Loewenstein. Somebody went to a lot of time and effort to set this up--and a very nasty Jewboy took a very long swan dive. It couldn't have happened to a nicer hebe.

    Well, whoever it was--jolly good show, old chaps!

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default The Bowery Gorilla (1900s) -- Lesson #6


    The Bowery Gorilla (1900s)


    The Bowery Gorilla (1900s)

    Of all of the early gangsters of New York, probably the most violent, stupid, and vicious hoodlum of them all was a Jew who called himself Monk Eastman. The moniker of "Monk," short for monkey, was given to him by enemies who claimed (accurately) that he looked like an ape and sometimes literally dragged his knuckles on the sidewalk as he loped down the street in a slumping gait. Of all the mobs that have terrorized New York City in the past two centuries, none gained the reputation for sheer psychopathic violence as did the Eastman gang from the Bowery.

    Eastman was born around 1873 in Brooklyn under the name of Edward Osterman. His parents were Jewish restaurateurs and set Edward up with a pet store on Penn street, near their restaurant. Edward grew bored and soon abandoned his store for the excitement of street life, gangsters, prostitutes, stuss games (a Jewish gambling game similar to faro) and all of the ilk associated with it. However, Monk always held an extreme fondness for cats and birds and he later opened up a pet store on Broome street. Monk trained a pigeon to sit on his shoulder while he went about his street travels and sometimes carried a cat with him under each arm. This "sensitive" trait contrasted sharply with his fondness for blackjacking assignments and other violent deeds at the behest of local Tammany Hall politicians, or as part of his own robberies and street brawls.

    To the end of his life, Monk dressed like a slob out of a garbage can and his speech was Neanderthal Brooklynese. It is a mystery how so incredibly stupid and ignorant a man as he was could evolve into the leader of a major New York street gang, but he did. Monk's circus-freak appearance was not enhanced by his wardrobe. Most gangsters were and are clothes horses and the nattiest dressers in town, viz. John Gotti, but Eastman's outfit usually consisted of a derby hat several sizes too small, a blackjack tucked into his pants, soup-stained vest, open shirt, and brass knuckles adorning each hand. He carried a large club and enjoyed using it, sending so many men to Bellevue Hospital's accident ward that ambulance drivers referred to it as the "Eastman Pavilion."

    Monk boasted that he had never struck a women with his club or killed one. When a lady suffered a severe lapse in manners, he blackened her eyes. "I only give her a little poke, just enough to put a shanty on her glimmer. But I always takes off me knucks first," the gallant Hebrew once told a reporter.

    Around 1895, Monk moved to lower Manhattan and established himself as Sheriff of New Irving Hall, "sheriff" being a slang term for a whorehouse bouncer. Monk also "kept order," if you want to call it that, at a number of saloons and social clubs owned by politicians and gangsters. After a few years, Monk moved up the crime ladder towards gang leader. Monk had established his kingdom by 1900 with more than twelve hundred thugs, burglars, pickpockets, cutthroats and stickup men under his nominal command.

    The Eastman headquarters was a dive on Chrystie Street, near the Bowery, where they stockpiled slung-shots, revolvers, blackjacks, brass knuckles, and other tools of gang warfare. Their main sources of income were derived from houses of prostitution, stuss and dice games, political strongarm engagements, blackjacking services, and the operations of pickpockets, footpads, and loft burglars. Tammany Hall, the political power in New York City, frequently engaged the services of Eastman to bring in the votes at election time. In return, Tammany Hall lawyers bailed Eastman out whenever he got arrested.

    Monk Eastman's lifelong feud with rival gangster Paul Kelly (who despite his name was Italian, having been born Paolo Vacarelli) began over a strip of territory between Mike Salter's dive on Pell street and the Bowery. Eastman claimed domain over the territory from Monroe to Fourteenth streets and from the Bowery to the East River. Paul Kelly and his Five Pointers believed that their kingdom included the Bowery and any spoils found in this area. Eventually, the constant feuding would cause the downfall of both Monk Eastman and Paul Kelly.

    On election day of 1902, Monk and a cartload of his goons were scurrying to the polling place to "persuade" voters to choose the Tammany Hall candidate, when they encountered Frank Morello, a Five Pointer. Monk accused Morello of stealing a parrot from his pet store, which he still maintained as a sideline, and then began beating Morello with his famous club. After clubbing him down and leaving Morello a bleeding mess on the sidewalk, Monk shouted at him, "Stay away from me stuss game on Rivington! Youse want to get popped like Louie? He thought I was dead, wit a hole in me belly! Youse Five Pointers can't off me!"

    Some hours later, Kid Twist (Max Zweibach), Monk's chief lieutenant, drove up to the New Irving Hall cathouse in his new horseless carriage hoping to impress one of the ladies of the evening there, Mary O'Malley, with his newly acquired Curved-Dash Olds. (Jewish criminals have for some reason always preferred Irish women, which considering the way most Jewish women look is perhaps not so surprising.) The Irish whore was duly impressed and he took her for a ride, put-putting down Rivington Street. He drove to one of Eastman's stuss games in a tenement, and just as he pulled up to the curb, he saw the bloodied Morello and some of his fellow Italian gangsters from the Five Points mob heading for the door, clearly out for vengeance and intending to smash up the game inside and rob it. Zweibach pulled out his revolver and immediately opened fire, killing Morello.

    The fat was now in the fire. Both gangs descended in force into the area and sheltered behind the iron columns of the railroad bridge over the intersection of Chrystie and Rivington Streets, and started blasting away at one another with pistols and sawed-off shotguns over a period of about six hours. The police attempted to intervene twice but were driven away by a hail of bullets from both sides, and it wasn't until almost midnight that the cops assembled enough men and weapons to storm down the street in force and break up the gun battle. It is not known how many gangsters were killed or wounded, since the thugs carried away most of their casualties for secret burial in tenement basements and waste ground, but it is estimated that half a dozen men on both sides died and about fifty were wounded. The casualties might have been greater had not the iron pillars of the railroad bridge provided an excellent bullet-proof cover.

    This was the last straw for Tammany Hall and the city authorities, and ward boss Tom Foley from Tammany dragged the two gang leaders to a truce meeting and laid down the law: there were to be no more of these spectacular shenanigans. Peace would prevail or both gangs would be squashed. An occasional murder or blackjacking would be overlooked, but not wholesale combat. Kelly and Eastman agreed to stop the stabbing and shooting and also agreed that the strip between the Bowery and Mike's place would be neutral territory.

    Peace reigned for several months between the Eastmans and the Five Pointers until the winter of 1903. One of Eastman's hoodlums named Hurst became involved in an argument with a man named Ford, one of Kelly's disciples. Hurst was badly mauled and one of his ears was twisted off. Monk immediately sent word to Kelly to forfeit Ford's life or "we'll wipe up de earth wit youse guys." Kelly demurred and both sides prepared for war. Tammany Hall intervened again and both sides decided to settle the issue of supremacy by a prize fight between Kelly and Eastman.

    The gang chiefs fought for two hours in an old barn in the Bronx with neither winning. (Kelly was at least thirty pounds lighter and several inches shorter than Eastman, but had been a professional bare-knuckles boxer in his youth.) The bout was declared a draw and both sides again prepared for war to the finish. However Monk's rule ended first, when he and one of his henchmen, Chris Wallace, decided on impulse to "roll" or mug a well-dressed young man whom they saw reeling out of a barroom quite drunk. They didn't know that the boy's wealthy father had assigned a couple of Pinkerton detectives to follow and protect his wastrel son, and the Pinkerton men intervened and succeeded in beating down and handcuffing Eastman. Monk was arrested and Tammany Hall ignored his appeals for aid. Monk was tried, convicted and sent to Sing Sing prison for ten years.

    Eastman's gang fell apart while he was in prison, and in 1908 Kid Twist was murdered by a Five Pointer named Louie the Lump over the affections of another Irish girl, Carroll Terry. In June of 1909, Monk was paroled from Sing Sing and returned to the East Side, but found himself without a kingdom. He was unable to reorganize his gang and ultimately resorted to being a pickpocket and dope peddler. From 1912 to 1917 Monk was in and out of prison on various charges: opium dealing, robbery, and fighting. In 1917, at the age of 44, he enlisted in the New York National Guard, posing as an Irishman under the name of William Delaney. The physician at the recruiting station was shocked to see the knife and bullet scars that covered his body and asked Monk what battles he had been in. Monk grinned and said "Oh, a lot of little wars around New York!"

    He was discharged from the service in April of 1919 and Governor Al Smith restored his citizenship. However Monk was unable to resist the lure of dope peddling and bootlegging. He was shot and killed in front of the Blue Bird Cafe on December 26, 1920 by Jerry Bohan, a corrupt Prohibition Enforcement Agent, in an argument over some hijacked liquor.

    Eastman's career is interesting because it gives the lie to the contention that organized crime in this country has always been an Italian or Irish phenomenon. Eastman was the first in a long line of vicious Jewish urban criminals who include such stellar lights as Dopey Benny Fein, Nate "Kid Dropper" Kaplan (so-called for his penchant for mugging newsboys and robbing them of their day's change), Jacob "Little Augie" Orgen, Arthur "Dutch Schultz" Flegenheimer, Bugsy Siegel, Meyer Lansky, and Sidney Korshak. Organized crime in America has always had a prominent Jewish presence and in some cases, as in the Eastman era, it has even been predominantly Jewish.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default Embezzler To The Stars (1977) -- Lesson #7


    Embezzler To The Stars (1977)


    Embezzler To The Stars (1977)

    In February of 1977, actor Cliff Robertson, an established star with an Oscar and Emmy and impressive hits like "PT 109" and "Obsession" on his resume, received a Form 1099 from the IRS that said he had received $10,000 from Columbia Pictures for an alleged promotional tour which he never made. He had never received the money, and he had his accountant call up Columbia to ask what was going on.

    He got no answers. All summer long he kept trying to find out what the story on the 1099 form was, and he was put off with vague reassurances that "the matter was being taken care of." He also received some quiet advice from a number of friends and Hollywood insiders who clearly had some previous idea of what was going on: shut up, pay the IRS and forget about the whole thing. But Robertson got his dander up and said, "Bull! I'm not paying taxes on $10,000 that I never received!"

    Eventually Robertson was able to force Columbia Pictures to show him the canceled check for the alleged $10,000 payment, and upon seeing it he discovered that his signature had been forged. Robertson's report started an investigation. The LAPD and the FBI verified that the $10,000 check was a forgery, and they tracked it to David Begelman, Columbia Pictures' flamboyant Jewish president who was credited with being the producing genius behind Steven Spielberg's "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Begelman had forged Robertson's signature and cashed the check himself.

    Columbia Pictures, forced to launch their own internal investigation, discovered a series of forged checks, bogus "consulting" contracts, and elaborate schemes to defraud the company by Begelman, including a number of forged checks which he had cashed, pocketing the money and using it for things like building a luxurious private screening room in his home and taking Caribbean gambling-junket vacations. Begelman forged and cashed checks in the names of an odd assortment of real persons, from a prominent Santa Monica architect to the maitre d’ at a popular Beverly Hills restaurant, none of whom knew that Begelman was using their names to loot his own company. Officially, Columbia finally admitted that Begelman had embezzled about $75,000, but the true extent of his defalcations has never been revealed to this day, and the actual total is believed to be much higher.

    Begelman was summoned to a meeting of the board of directors in New York and politely asked to explain himself. These men were all Jews like himself, including CEO Alan Hirschfield, senior vice presidents Allen Adler and Dan Melnick, comptroller Joseph Fischer, and majority stockholder Matty Rosenhaus, aged 65, who was married to a former Miss Israel 40 years younger than himself.

    The performance that Begelman put on for the board, complete with sad violins, would have done credit to one of his own movies. Begelman claimed amnesia at first, swearing that he didn't remember forging any of the checks or taking any money, and when that got a little too thin he literally pleaded insanity, trotting out his psychiatrist to claim that he (Begelman) had embezzled the money because of his low self-esteem. (This was a man who was rarely seen without at least two or three thousand dollars' worth of clothing on his body and expensive jewelry to match.) As his ace in the hole, Begelman even staged a couple of melodramatic hysterical breakdowns in the boardroom, on one occasion running to a window and threatening to jump out of it.

    Because Columbia Pictures was a publicly traded company and among other things, publicly traded companies are not allowed to have self-admitted thieves in charge of them, Columbia eventually bowed to the inevitable, and in September of 1977 placed Begelman on leave of absence while going through the motions of an "investigation" -- fully salaried, of course. In December of 1977, they reinstated Begelman as studio head, claiming that his embezzlement and forgeries were prompted by "emotional problems" that, "coupled with ongoing therapy, will not impair his continuing effectiveness as an executive." Robertson and his actress wife Dina Merrill were outraged and wondered how, especially in the immediate post-Watergate era, a crook could maintain his position of power.

    What is interesting is the reaction of the almost entirely Jewish hierarchy at Columbia pictures to the revelation that the head of the studio was a thief, as well as the largely kosher Hollywood establishment. Tinseltown rallied around Begelman as if he were a persecuted saint, and everyone from members of Columbia's Board of Directors to Hollywood columnists like Rona Barrett gave 110% to make sure that Begelman not only never saw the inside of a jail cell, but retained his job and his salary and his privileged position of power in the movie world as if nothing had happened. Columbia itself never used the ugly words "embezzlement" or "forgery" in any press release or comment on the case; "unauthorized financial transactions" was the closest they would come to the truth.

    One of Hollywood's responses was to make Cliff Robertson's life a living hell and effectively to blacklist him from working in pictures. Producer Ray Stark called Robertson and told him that if he continued talking to the press Begelman would be driven to suicide. Robertson said that he would do "what a citizen should do in this situation." Robertson and his young daughter subsequently received threats of a sufficiently credible nature so that they were provided with police protection. Despite the pressure, Robertson decided to speak out. He got his story to the press through his wife, Dina Merrill, and spoke to Washington Post. In 1978 Hollywood gossip columnists published the affair and dubbed it "Hollywoodgate". There were also a number of deep-ranging and documented articles on David Begelman's shady past, including his notorious stint in the 1960s as agent and manager for the drug-addicted and trashed-out Judy Garland, a financial relationship which degenerated into threats, accusations of embezzlement on Begelman's part and perversion on Garland's, and lawsuits which made spicy and engrossing reading. It appeared that far from being an aberration brought on by "emotional problems," Begelman's behavior was part of a lifelong pattern of criminality and dishonesty.

    Eventually the SEC put its foot down and forced Begelman to resign from Columbia. He pleaded guilty to a slap-on-the-wrist charge in one single courtroom appearance and then went on to work for Columbia as an independent producer, as well as running United Artists for MGM in the 1980s. Later he ran two smaller production companies.

    David Begelman finally followed through on his repeated threats of suicide and shot himself in a Los Angeles Century Plaza Hotel room in August of 1995. The story of the Embezzler to the Stars is told in David McClintick's 1982 bestseller Indecent Exposure: A True Story of Hollywood and Wall Street (New York: William Morrow and Company). Of the Robertson's fate, McClintick writes, "Cliff Robertson was blacklisted for four years after reporting David Begelman's forgery."

    A glance at Robertson's filmography on the Internet Movie Database shows that his career never fully recovered; whereas once he had played leads in films like "PT 109", "Obsession," and "The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid," after 1978 he lapses into the lowest budget of grade B flicks and even television soap operas. Robertson's latest role was a bit part as "Uncle Ben" in Spiderman. Robertson paid a hefty price indeed for being a Gentile who refused to allow himself to be robbed in silence by a Jew.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default Arnold Rothstein, King of the Jews (1882-1928) -- Lesson #8


    Arnold Rothstein, King of the Jews (1882-1928)


    Arnold Rothstein's name is virtually unknown today, but in his time he was known far and wide as, among other things, the King of the Jews, the King of New York, A. R., Mr. Big, The Fixer, The Big Bankroll, The Man Uptown, and The Brain.

    Arnold Rothstein was arguably the most personally successful professional criminal in American history, and given American history, that's saying a lot. He made millions of dollars in his lifetime, and that's 1920s dollars. He was the inspiration for the character of Meyer Wolfsheim in The Great Gatsby, and Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls. He was rumored at the time and is now generally accepted by historians to be the mastermind of the "Black Sox" scandal, the fixing of the 1919 World Series by professional gamblers. He financed and had some interest in virtually ever major bootlegging operation during Prohibition, with the exception of the bloody gangster scene in Chicago, which was too wild for even him to control. He is the father of modern narcotics trafficking, and in some chroniclers' opinion the real father of the Cosa Nostra despite not being Italian.

    Arnold Rothstein was gambling, and Arnold Rothstein was money. He was Mr. Broadway and had his own booth at Lindy’s restaurant in Manhattan where he held court. He was quite possibly the most completely amoral human being who ever lived.

    Arnold Rothstein was born in a brownstone on East 47th Street in Manhattan in 1882, the second of five children. His parents, Abraham and Esther, were middle class when he was born and his father grew fairly wealthy on his own later in life through "legitimate" business. He wanted all his sons to be rabbis, but apparently old Abe noticed from a very young age that Arnold was a weird kid. Young Arnold spent many hours alone in cellars and closets choosing dark places in which to play. At the age of three he had already taken a disliking to his older brother Harry. One night Abraham entered the boy’s bedroom to find Arnold standing over the sleeping Harry with a knife in his hand. When the father pleaded for an explanation, Arnold simply replied, "I hate Harry."

    Later on his parents found that they could not trust Arnold with small amounts of money to go to the store; their son would come back and sullenly tell them he had lost the money pitching pennies or playing craps with bigger kids down the street. What was worse was when old Abe found out that more often than not, his son was actually winning -- even in his early days Arnold was incredibly lucky at gambling -- but he lied about having lost his parents' dime or quarter bread and milk money so he could keep that too.

    Years later Rothstein told a psychologist that when he was young his mother took Harry and his younger sister, Ethel, on an extended trip to San Francisco to visit her relatives. The first night she was gone Abraham found Arnold hidden away in a closet weeping uncontrollably. "You hate me," cried Arnold. "She hates me and you hate me, but you all love Harry. Nobody loves me." It was the only time Rothstein showed any deep emotion during his childhood.

    Well, jeez. They didn't love him because he was a rotten kid who stole and lied, but that presumably never occurred to the boy.

    Arnold fell two years behind in grade school and found himself a classmate of his younger brother Edgar. Edgar would later recall, "I’d do all the homework and Arnold would copy it and remember it. Except in arithmetic. Arnold did all the arithmetic. He loved to play with numbers." When Harry Rothstein was thirteen he informed his parents that he wanted to study to become a rabbi. This decision delighted Abraham. Arnold, who had shunned his religious studies even more than his regular schooling, was chided by his father, "You should be proud of being a Jew."

    A defiant Arnold responded, "Who cares about that stuff? This is America, not Jerusalem. I’m an American! Let Harry be a Jew!" For someone who would someday be called "The King of the Jews," this was pretty ironic.

    Arnold quit school for good in 1898, went onto the streets, and never looked back. He never in his life held a legitimate job. He began shooting dice and playing the Jewish card game stuss for a living, almost always rising a winner. Arnold frequented pool halls, which in the early days of their existence were places where bets were placed and lotteries played. As gamblers waited around for the results there was usually a billiards table to occupy their time. Rothstein earned a reputation as pool shark.

    Rothstein became a regular at Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre where a craps game was always in action every Monday. The popular game drew the likes of Monk Eastman and Herman "Beansie" Rosenthal. (See Jewish History Series passim, The Bowery Gorilla and Croaking Beansie.) He soon began lending money to several of the players and launched a lifelong career as a loan shark. For every four dollars he lent he collected five in return. If any problems arose in collecting the loans, Rothstein would turn to his newly found friend Monk Eastman. The bullet-headed thug, with a broken nose and cauliflower ears, met little resistance when trying to retrieve payments due Rothstein.

    Building a reputation as a gambler and shylock while still only sixteen, Rothstein began to cultivate a friendship with Timothy D. Sullivan, Tammany Hall's East Side political boss. Sullivan, known as "Big Tim," gained his powerful political standing by delivering the Democratic vote on Election Day. In return, Sullivan looked out for the people in his district, delivering coal and food for the needy, and helping others get jobs or legal assistance when necessary. Rothstein became a regular at Sullivan's headquarters. He ran errands for Big Tim and served as a Yiddish translator for Sullivan's Jewish constituents. Sullivan soon realized that Rothstein was a young man with a future.

    With Big Tim's backing, in 1902 Rothstein began working on his own. He booked bets on baseball games, elections, horse races and prizefights. In addition, he gambled on his own -- shooting craps, playing pool and participating in poker games. Rothstein had a simple philosophy, "Look out for Number One. If you don't, no one else will. If a man is dumb, someone is going to get the best of him, so why not you? If you don't, you're as dumb as he is."

    Rothstein's new home was the Broadway Central Hotel and his new "profession" was that of a cigar salesman, which gave him an official reason for hanging around gambling houses, hotels and saloons. During this period Rothstein developed his lifelong habit of carrying a big bankroll. He believed that by carrying a large sum of money, and flashing it, that it helped gauge his prominence. "Money talks," Rothstein told a reporter. "The more money the louder it talks."

    In 1907, he met a 19 year-old Irish Catholic girl named Carolyn Greene. (As mentioned before, for some reason Jewish criminals always gravitate to Irish or at least Gentile women. Rothstein is never known to have had a single Jewish wife or mistress; his relationship with Fanny Brice was purely financial and narcotics-related.) He courted Carolyn through the simple and direct method: he took her to dinner and spread his money out over the table. "This is going to make me important," he told her. "I know how much money means. I'm going to have more and more of it. Nothing is going to stop me."

    She was convinced and she married Rothstein in 1909. His long-suffering father Abraham cast him out of the family and sat shiva for him, making him legally dead according to Jewish religious law. Lying, stealing, gambling, and maybe a little maiming and murder on the side was fine, so long as it was over money. Marry a Gentile and you're done here, kiddo.

    Rothstein's idea of settling down was to diversify his gambling and become "the house," opening a series of very high-class gambling joints with plush decor, restaurants with haute cuisine, and evening dress required for all the high rollers. He started with a brownstone on West 46th Street, outfitted with roulette wheels, dice pits, faro and poker tables. Over the years Rothstein moved way upmarket, eventually managing several of the most high-end casinos in the country out of huge mansions he bought in Long Island and Saratoga.

    His clientele included Tammany Hall politicians, governors and U.S. Senators, silent film stars, writers like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Damon Runyon, Eugene O'Neill and the Bohemian crowd from Greenwich Village, captains of industry, drunken flappers and jazz babies from the East Coast's social register, anyone with money to throw away. Plus, of course, a leavening of gun-toting gangsters like Legs Diamond, Bugsy Siegel, Meyer Lansky, Owney Madden, Lucky Luciano, and Dutch Schultz. Rothstein took advantage of what he termed "snob appeal" for his gambling den. "People like to think they're better than other people," Rothstein once told the writer Damon Runyon. "As long as they're willing to pay to prove it, I'm willing to let them."

    In his adult years Rothstein routinely carried as much as $25,000 in a roll in his pocket, which in those days was more money than many working-class families ever saw in their lives. No one ever tried to rob him, knowing if they did they'd have to deal with some of the King's associates, charming gents like Monk Eastman (q.v.) and later on Legs Diamond, Owney "Killer" Madden, and the psychopathic Bugsy Siegel.

    The one time someone did try to stick him up, a down-and-out former schoolteacher named Will Davis who thought he had a foolproof betting system for horse racing and needed a stake, Rothstein gently talked him out of it. When he wanted to, Rothstein could charm the birds out of the trees. More than one observer described Rothstein's personal magnetism with his marks as "like a bird with a snake." He took away Davis's gun, took him home and gave him a meal, listened to his system which sounded like it might work, took him onto the payroll briefly, and made over $100,000 at the track before firing Davis and putting him on a train back to California, after having him beaten bloody by some of Diamond's gangsters. But he did stick a $50 bill in Davis' pocket as the train was pulling out. The man was all heart.

    En passant, ripping off a Gentile in some especially slick and egregious manner like this is called by the Jews a korban. Rothstein's many korbans were one of the things that contributed to his elevated reputation among his people. But he could be just as ruthless with his fellow Jews. When his childhood friend Herman Rosenthal (see Croaking Beansie) finally realized that his big mouth was about to get him whacked, he ran to his old buddy Rothstein on July 5th, 1912 and begged for $500 to get out of town. "Forget it, Beansie," said Rothstein. "You waited too late. You're not worth $500 to anybody any more." Rosenthal was murdered in front of the Hotel Metropole that same night by three Jews and an Italian, on orders of corrupt police lieutenant Charles Becker.

    Becker and his hired guns were eventually fried in the electric chair, and to make a long story short, Rothstein stepped into Becker's place as the main liaison between New York City's corrupt political establishment and the underworld. From then on he had it made. Rothstein took cash for everything he did. Soon he and Carolyn moved to an apartment at the corner of Broadway and 52nd Street. Their new home had eight rooms and two baths, as well as separate quarters for a butler and a maid.

    With Tammany Hall in his corner, Rothstein could get away with murder, or attempted murder, anyway. On January 19th, 1919 Rothstein was rolling the bones in a floating crap game at 301 West 57th Street. Most of Rothstein's games were "protected," but every now and then snafus occurred, and the police actually raided this one. As they were smashing in the door, to everyone's amazement Rothstein, who was usually left the rough stuff to his gangster buddies, pulled out a revolver and opened fire, wounding three police officers, albeit slightly. Rothstein was arrested with the smoking gun in his hands, literally. It looked like an open and shut case. Wrong ...

    Rothstein was booked for assault with a deadly weapon, then provided bail money for all the gamblers who had been arrested. An overzealous inspector, Dominic Henry, having somehow acquired the peculiar notion that Jews should obey the law like everyone else and refrain from taking pot shots at the cops, refused to let the matter quietly go away and pushed for an indictment, although it took him six months and the intervention of the U. S. Attorney's office for the District of New York to get one.

    When the case was called Rothstein’s attorney simply got up and requested a dismissal, which the judge readily agreed to. Scuttlebutt was that Rothstein had paid $32,000 to get the case quashed. Rothstein then used his political contacts to get Inspector Henry indicted for perjury, convicted and sentenced to five years in prison, as a lesson to any other stroppy goyim who might get ideas above their station.

    Arnold Rothstein's most famous exploit, one which was later immortalized by Hollywood in the movie Eight Men Out, was the fixing of the 1919 World Series. Rothstein biographer Leo Katcher claims, "He did not fix the Series. Rothstein’s name, his reputation, and his reputed wealth were all used to influence the crooked baseball players. But Rothstein, knowing this, kept apart from the actual fix. He just let it happen." Uh. . . okay, Leo. If you say so.

    The series between the Chicago White Sox and the Cincinnati Reds was won by the underdog Cincinnati team five games to three (at the time the series was best of nine). Eight players from the Chicago team conspired to throw the games, earning themselves entry into the Baseball Hall of Infamy as the "Black Sox." Their throwing of the games were so clumsy, though, that there was immediate suspicion aroused. After a screaming-headline investigation, all eight players involved were banned from playing baseball for life, and a new office of Baseball Commissioner was created. Ban Johnson, the president of the American League, was certain of Rothstein’s participation in the fix and openly said so. To which Rothstein responded, "My only connection was to refuse to do business with some men who said they could fix it. I intend to sue Ban Johnson for libel.’" Needless to say, he never did.

    Up until 1920, Rothstein was a highly successful gambler, corrupt political fixer and criminal who also dabbled in such illicit enterprises as securities fraud, fencing stolen bonds, diamond smuggling, and other such white collar crime. He knew and used the services of gangsters and hit men, but only as bodyguards or on a kind of piecework basis when there was a specific job of wet work that needed to be done, usually collecting money for him. He was not primarily a mobster himself, but that was about to change.

    When Prohibition began on January 16, 1920, Rothstein had many of the component parts of organized crime in place. Rothstein immediately appreciated the immense profits to be made in providing liquor for thirsty Americans, and there is no doubt that he was responsible for financing, systematizing and organizing the bootlegging business on the East Coast, and thereby quite probably preventing the New York bootleg scene from degenerating into the blood-soaked free-for-alls that occurred in places like Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City. It was at this time that Rothstein began to assemble a stable of gunmen that included men like Diamond, Siegel, Lansky, Luciano, Jacob "Little Augie" Orgen, Lepke Buchalter, Gurrah Shapiro, and Dutch Schultz (Arthur Flegenheimer.)

    Rothstein handled the consumption end of the illegal alcohol business, not so much the importation. He already had massive real estate interests in New York, and he financed many retail outlets for bootleggers, as well as becoming the silent owner of at least half the city's speakeasies or illegal bars and night spots. His realty firms negotiated rentals and leases and his insurance companies insured the premises. He bankrolled many bootleggers and provided them with trucks and drivers to transport their illegal cargo. He provided money and manpower and political protection. He arranged corruption -- for a price. If things went wrong, Rothstein was ready to provide bail and attorneys. He put crime on a corporate basis instead of the loose-knit patchwork of ethnically based gangs living off robbery and burglary and petty street crime which existed prior to Prohibition. In this sense, he is indeed the father of the modern Syndicate.

    As always in any form of organized crime, Jews were prominent. One of Rothstein’s first ventures into rum-running came after a meeting with Waxey Gordon (Irving Wexler) and Detroit bootlegger Maxie Greenberg. While in Detroit, Greenberg began smuggling in whiskey from Canada, which he purchased largely from the Jewish Bronfman family, prominent liquor dealers and Zionists to this day. Realizing how profitable this venture was, Greenberg wanted to expand and needed $175,000 to do so. He traveled to New York in hopes that through Gordon, he could obtain financing from Rothstein. His appeal to Rothstein was successful, and from this arose the infamous, all-Jewish Detroit and Cleveland Purple Gangs, with a fleet of rum-running boats so big it was called "The Little Jewish Navy."

    Rothstein was always content to remain a silent partner and sponsor of the bootleggers. The business was so huge and complex that he could never hope to control it all, and he knew this. But one illicit trade Arnold Rothstein did in fact reserve for his own personal monopoly, and woe to the criminal who trespassed thereon--narcotics.

    It is not widely known that opium-based narcotics and cocaine were not always illegal in this country. Up until the late 'Teens dope flowed freely in this country; the first anti-drug bill, the Harrison Act, was not passed until 1916. There were nowhere near as many addicts as there are today, but many of them were wealthy socialite types, silent film stars such as Wallace Beery and others, and they were willing to pay top dollar for their now illegal blow and smack. Rothstein was never involved in street pushing; he was strictly importation and wholesale. Some of the first major drug lords in America, whose names are virtually unknown today, were criminals bankrolled and supervised by Rothstein, men like Harry Mather, "Dapper Dan" Collins, Sid Stager, George Uffner, and Jacob "Yasha" Katzenberg.

    Rothstein purchased the well-known importing house Vantines as a front for his drug operation. The establishment had a legitimate reputation and shipments arriving from China and the Orient received only a cursory inspection. Rothstein made sure that when he got word someone he knew was furnishing a home that Vantines received part of that business. It was reported that Jewish songstress and comedienne Fanny Brice ordered thousands of dollars of furnishings and bric-a-brac from Vantines to adorn a new apartment, which she got for free after first letting Rothstein's crew remove certain "extras" hidden away in secret compartments in the consignments. In addition to Vantines, Rothstein purchased several antique shops and art galleries to serve as legitimate fronts for his drug business.

    In May of 1928, to Rothstein's irritation, the newspapers detected and questioned him about a series of meetings he held with "Captain" Alfred Loewenstein, the Belgian-born Jewish stock swindler and war profiteer who was considered to be at that time the richest man in the world. (see Jewish Histories passim, The Man Who Fell From The Sky) It has been speculated that Rothstein was working with Loewenstein on some kind of European dope network, the two fell out, and then Loewenstein literally fell out, out the door of his private airplane thousands of feet above the English Channel. Rothstein has been accused of having his co-religionist whacked in this unusual manner, although there is no hard evidence for this assertion.

    But what goes around comes around, and The King of the Jews was about to get his own ticket punched.

    As big as he was, Rothstein never gave up his personal gambling. On September 8th, 1928, Rothstein sat down in a Manhattan hotel room for a marathon poker game which lasted until the morning of the 10th. The other players participating in the game were all professional gamblers and/or gangsters themselves. They included West Coast gambler and criminal Nathan "Nigger Nate" Raymond, Alvin "Titanic" Thompson, Joe Bernstein, and New York bookmaker and leg-breaker George McManus, who acted as Mine Host.

    "Nigger Nate" was not black himself, but acquired his nickname because he allegedly had a sexual taste for dark meat; he had a long record for armed robbery, labor racketeering and strike-breaking thuggery, and suspected homicide. "Titanic" Thompson was a Texan who wore a ten-gallon hat and spurs even on the sidewalks of New York. He carried a pearl-handled six-shooter and had been known to use it on suspected cheaters. He got his nickname because he was a survivor of the sinking of the Titanic. According to underworld legend, he and his fellow players were so engrossed in their poker in the saloon lounge that they didn't notice the iceberg hit and the fact that the ship was sinking until the water was lapping the tilted deck beneath their feet, and when the others rose to make a break for it Thompson called out, "Oh, come on, fellers, we got time for one more hand!" George McManus was a hardened Irish thug who was known to have several notches on his gun.

    These were not men that anyone in his right mind would screw around with, but this time Rothstein slipped badly in the character judgment department. That classic Jewish hubris and arrogance was about to catch up with Mr. Big.

    For once, Rothstein's usual luck or skill at cards deserted him. By the end of the marathon card game, Rothstein was a big loser. He owed Raymond $219,000, Bernstein $73,000, and Thompson $30,000. When Rothstein walked out, without so much as signing an IOU, a couple of the players became irritated. McManus assured the pair, "That's A. R. Hell, he's good for it. He'll be calling you in a couple of days." But he didn't.

    A week passed and Rothstein had still not made good. Rumors began to circulate that the game was crooked. Rothstein confided to Nicky Arnstein, "A couple of people told me that the game was rigged." Arnstein's advice to Rothstein was to pay the players off, "No point to your advertising you were a sucker." The word percolated like wildfire down Broadway: Mr. Big had welshed on a gambling debt. As sponsor of the game, by the unwritten law of professional gamblers George McManus had stood guarantor for all the players, and it was his responsibility to make sure all bets were settled. As the weeks passed, the pressure began to get to McManus who began drinking and threatening Rothstein in speakeasies for making him into a patsy.

    On the evening of November 4th, 1928, Rothstein arrived at Lindy's restaurant on Seventh Avenue and went to his private booth. Lindy's was Rothstein's office. He kept a regular schedule there and several men were already waiting to see him when he walked in that night. One of the men, Jimmy Meehan, ran the Park City Club, one of the city's biggest gambling dens during the 1920s. Meehan operated the plush club with a bankroll supplied by Rothstein. He warned Rothstein again to pay up; McManus was getting dangerously angry. "I'm not afraid of some dumb Irish palooka," replied Rothstein with a sneer. "I'm Mr. Big, remember? I pay when I feel like paying." Wrong ...

    About 10:15, Rothstein received a telephone call. After a short conversation he hung up and motioned for Meehan to walk outside with him. "McManus wants to see me at the Park Central," Rothstein said. He then pulled a gun out of his pocket and handed it to Meehan saying, "Keep this for me, I will be right back." Meehan then watched Rothstein walk up Seventh Avenue. Why Rothstein handed over his own weapon to Meehan before going to meet a dangerous adversary like McManus, or why he didn't take some of his own bodyguards with him, has always been a mystery. Perhaps after years of immunity from the law and his miraculous ability to get out of any scrape, Rothstein had indeed come to believe he was invincible and immortal.

    The exact sequence of subsequent events has never been satisfactorily explained, although it is believed that Rothstein did go up to McManus's room 349 in the Park Central, where he was registered as George Richards. At 10:53 the West 47th Street police station received a call from the manager of the hotel. Arnold Rothstein had been found lying shot on the floor by the employee's entrance. About the same time as the shooting, a .38-caliber revolver was thrown out of one of the windows of the hotel by someone and bounced off the roof of a taxicab on the street; the driver turned the gun over to the police. Rothstein was conscious when he was taken to Polyclinic Hospital and underwent emergency surgery for the removal of a single bullet from his belly, and for several days he lingered in agony before he died of peritonitis and blood poisoning at age 46.

    George McManus was arrested and tried for the murder, but acquitted due to lack of evidence, and the defense's case was helped by the fact that to give the man his due, even in his final death throes Arnold Rothstein had held to the code of the underworld and refused to name the man who had shot him.

    Rothstein's estate was almost completely looted by his many crooked associates, and his widow Carolyn received only a few thousand dollars in the end out of all the millions that Rothstein had squirreled away over the years.

    The King of the Jews was dead. Sic transit gloria mundi.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default Little Hugh of Lincoln (1246-1255) -- Lesson #9


    Little Hugh of Lincoln (1246-1255)




    Hugh of Lincoln (1246 – 1255) was an English boy, whose death was apparently an act of Jewish ritual murder. Hugh is known as Little Saint Hugh to distinguish him from Saint Hugh, otherwise Hugh of Lincoln. The style is often corrupted to Little Sir Hugh. The boy disappeared on 31 July, and his body was discovered in a well on 29 August.

    Shortly after his disappearance, a local Jew named Copin (or Jopin), under torture, admitted to killing the child. It is the first recorded legal trial for ritual murder in the history of Anglo-Saxon jurisprudence. Copin was executed, and some ninety Jews all told were arrested over the coming months and held all around England, including some in the Tower of London, while they were charged with involvement in the ritual murder.

    Very little account of the actual evidence from these arrests and trials has survived. The Jews, of course, claim that it was all a Gentile plot for King Henry III to confiscate the wealth of Jews convicted of a capital crime. In the Middle Ages the monarchy was always broke, not having an Internal Revenue Service or a Federal Reserve that could simply print up more money with the touch of a computer function key as is the case today. So to be absolutely honest, whoever actually killed the boy, it could be that some of these Jews were pulled in so Henry could get hold of their boodle. I have no problem admitting that such things did happen on occasion, none of which acquits the Jews of the long-standing and heavily documented charge of ritual murder.

    Eighteen Jews were hanged, oddly enough not for the murder itself, but for refusing to participate in the proceedings and refusing to throw themselves on the verdict of a Christian jury. The remainder were pardoned and set free, according to monkish chronicler gossip because the king’s brother Richard of Cornwall took heavy bribes from the realm’s Jews to intervene.

    Meanwhile, the Cathedral in Lincoln was beginning to benefit from the episode, since Hugh was seen as a Christian martyr, and sites associated with his life became objects of pilgrimage. The legend surrounding Hugh that emerged became part of popular culture, and his story became the subject of poetry and folksongs. Geoffrey Chaucer in his Canterbury Tales makes reference to Hugh of Lincoln in The Prioress's Tale. Pilgrims devoted to Hugh of Lincoln flocked to the city as late as the early 20th century, when a well was constructed in the former Jewish neighborhood of Jews' Court and advertised as the well in which Hugh's body was found.

    The following text from 1783, describes the murder of Hugh of Lincoln, as it was depicted in a popular ballad.
    She's led him in through a dark door,
    And sae has she thro' nine;
    She's laid him on a dressing-table,
    And stickit him like a swine.
    And first came out the thick, thick blood,
    And syne came out the thin;
    And syne came out the bonny heart's blood;
    There was nae mair within.
    She's row'd him in a cake o' lead,
    Bade him lie still and sleep;
    She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw-well
    Was fifty fathom deep.
    According to the notes by Cecil Sharp on a variant of the Ballad of Little Sir Hugh, the story is as follows:
    The events narrated in this ballad were supposed to have taken place in the 13th century. The story is told by a contemporary writer in the Annals of Waverley, under the year 1255. Little Sir Hugh was crucified by the Jews in contempt of Christ with various preliminary tortures. To conceal the act from the Christians, the body was thrown into a running stream, but the water immediately ejected it upon dry land. It was then buried, but was found above ground the next day. As a last resource the body was thrown into a drinking-well; whereupon, the whole place was filled with so brilliant a light and so sweet an odour that it was clear to everybody that there must be something holy in the well. The body was seen floating on the water and, upon its recovery, it was found that the hands and feet were pierced with wounds, the forehead lacerated, etc. The Jews were suspected. The King ordered an inquiry. Eighteen Jews confessed, were convicted, and eventually hanged.
    In 1975 the English folk-rock group Steeleye Span recorded a version of "Little Sir Hugh" on their album Commoner's Crown. In the song, the murderer is "a lady gay" "dressed in green".

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Seattle sorta

    Default WAS JACK THE RIPPER A JEW? (1888) -- Lesson #10




    In the autumn of 1888, a homicidal maniac prowled the gaslit streets of London's Whitechapel district, slaughtering six prostitutes in an increasingly gruesome and bloody manner. His deadly spree culminated with raving madness in the murder of Mary Jane Kelly, whom the killer virtually dissected in her shabby room in Miller's Court, heaping her body parts all around the room and taking away her sexual organs with him. After this, the killer disappeared into the London fog forever, but he left behind a name which has fascinated and terrified down through the ages -- the name of the first recorded serial killer in the modern sense of the term. The name of Jack the Ripper.

    His identity may have been accidentally discovered now. And ser-prise, ser-prise, Sergeant Carter -- he may have been a Jew.

    Yahoo News reports that "An eminent South African historian believes he has stumbled on the identity of Jack the Ripper. Charles van Onselen said at first he wasn't sure he wanted to publicize the conclusions he drew when he noticed parallels in the century-old, unsolved Ripper case and the background of Joseph Silver, who terrorized women as 'King of the Pimps' in Johannesburg....The publicity around van Onselen's The Fox and The Flies: The World of Joseph Silver, Racketeer and Psychopath, published in April, has made much of Silver being Jack the Ripper, the notorious Victorian serial killer who murdered at least five East London prostitutes in 1888." (I make it six; I have always been inclined to give the Ripper Martha Tabram as his first victim.)

    "Van Onselen, an acclaimed biographer who specializes in South Africa's criminal history and who took nearly three decades to research the book, only makes his Ripper case in the final 25th chapter, written in the last 36 months. While the book has been well-received, reaction from Ripperologists has been skeptical as van Onselen makes his case on circumstantial evidence." (Of course, after 119 years, that's about all the evidence anyone is ever going to find.) "To his doubters the author said: 'How many coincidences do you want to mount up in your mind simultaneously until you start saying this is a real possibility?'

    "Scores of people have been accused of the Ripper murders, but no one has ever been proven guilty and London police put the number of most likely suspects at just four, among them a poor Whitechapel resident named Kosminski who, like Silver, was a Polish Jew. At the time, Londoners speculated the killer was Jewish, leading to fears of an anti-Jewish backlash. Van Onselen believes Silver fits the psychological profile of the Whitechapel murderer and he places his subject at the center of the scene of the Ripper murders. The evidence that Silver was in Whitechapel at the time of the Ripper murders includes the birth of his daughter there, van Onselen said. As pimp and brothel keeper, Silver would have been familiar with the prostitutes working in the area...."

    Even in the nineteenth century, organized crime in the Western world was largely the purlieu of the Jew. Yahoo goes on: "Silver, who was born in Poland, arrived in Johannesburg in 1898 fresh from a stint in Sing Sing for burglary and a stay in London a decade earlier. Shortly after arriving in Johannesburg, Silver set up a string of cafes, cigar shops and police-protected brothels. Silver was litigious, wrote bold letters to newspapers and had an array of mocking aliases. Jack the Ripper is believed to have taunted police with brazen letters to the papers. Van Onselen, the son of a detective, tracked Silver across Africa, the Americas and Europe, 'staggered by how mobile this guy was.' In the end, Silver was executed as a spy in Poland in 1918." Since the new Soviet regime was trying to take over Poland and actually sent an army into Poland commanded by the young Joseph Stalin, and since Soviet Bolshevism was almost entirely Jewish, I think we can imagine who Silver was spying for. "Van Onselen points to similarities between the subject of his book and the Whitechapel murderer, both psychopaths with a deep hatred of women. Silver had bitter, violent relationships with women all his life. 'In terms of a template for this person, in terms of age, personality, mental illness, pattern for rest of life, this is the best fit there has ever been,' he said."

    At the time of the murders in 1888, the East End of London was teeming with Jewish immigrants, and it was clear from the killer's ability to move around in the area while going unnoticed that he was familiar with Whitechapel and the Spitalfields area, and that he was someone who belonged sufficiently so as not to excite suspicion. After the murder of Catherine Eddowes on the night of September 30th, 1888, the Ripper even chalked a mocking message on a wall over a public tap where he washed the blood off his hands and left several bloody rags: "The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing." Of course, this could simply mean that the killer was just plain half-educated and almost illiterate -- or that English was not his native language.

    Finally, the frenzied and bloodthirsty nature of the attacks indicated a kind of ferocity and hatred directed against weaker and highly vulnerable victims which has always been the mark of the Jew down through history, a kind of glory in bloodshed for its own sake which is very Jewish -- and five of the six victims were slaughtered kosher-style, with a single powerful slash across the throat, before the killer began his ghastly mutilations. This is another reason why the authorities at the time were suspicious of Jews, and why if through some historical fluke the identity of the Ripper ever does become known, he will more than likely be "of the Mosaic persuasion," as they said back in 1888.

    Come Home to the Northwest


    Down With Jugears

+ Reply to Thread
Page 1 of 2 1 2 LastLast

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts