ST. VALENTINE'S DAY MASSACRE

Gangster Al Capone decreed that Bugs Moran had to go

With Valentine's Day only five days away, what could be more
appropriate than to recall the most horrendous crime ever perpetrated
on that holiday. This account appeared in The Toronto Sun on Feb. 12,
1977.

In all the annals of U.S. crime, one man has become synonymous with
American gangsterism: Al Capone.

The very name brings to mind images of fast cars, fast guns, fast women
and rivers of booze -- as well it should -- for Al Capone was
surrounded by all of these and much more. He was to attain a
stranglehold on the rackets of Cook County, Ill., and its major city,
Chicago.

Al was a small-time robber and killer at the age of 21 when Johnny
Torrio picked him from the hundreds of hoods who made Chicago their
headquarters. Torrio may have been the first to realize there was a
fortune to be made in illegal beer and liquor during prohibition.

He picked big, pudgy Alphonse "Scarface" Capone because of his
reputation for being hard as nails and twice as cruel.

In a few years, the partnership of Torrio and Capone controlled the
Chicago suburb of Cicero. The partners were splitting $200,000 per
week. They were into everything: Beer, liquor, gambling and
prostitution. They were ambitious men who wanted more money and more
power, but there were other notorious gangs who controlled other
sections of greater Chicago.

Dion O'Banion, a mild-mannered florist, with an estimated 20 killings
to his credit, controlled the rackets in certain sections of the city.

On Nov. 4, 1924, three men walked into O'Banion's flower shop. One of
the men shook hands with Dion as six slugs poured into the latter's
body. O'Banion was dead before he hit the floor. Al Capone had removed
another competitor on his climb up the ladder.

The hoods of Chicago sent O'Banion out in style. There were 28
truckloads of flowers valued at over $55,000 at his funeral. One basket
of roses contained a card. It said simply, "From Al."

Thousands, including Capone, attended the opulent funeral. Some noticed
that O'Banion's head was lying to one side. There was a reason for the
odd angle -- one side of his head was blown away.

Retaliation followed O'Banion's death in the form of an attempt on
Capone's life. By luck and caution, he avoided being killed, but
another threat loomed in the shadows of Chicago's underworld. He was
Earl "Little Hymie" Weiss, and a more vicious killer never lived. It is
said that Capone feared only one man in his life, and that man was
"Little Hymie."

Weiss and O'Banion had been friends, and Weiss took over O'Banion's
gang. He had organized the unsuccessful attempt on Capone's life. Al
knew Weiss was the only obstacle standing between him and the taking
over as king of Chicago's rackets.

Capone's boys took two rooms overlooking Weiss' hangout. One fine day
as Weiss got out of his car, they shot him dead. There were 10 bullet
holes in Little Hymie's body.

For a while Capone had his way, and the magnitude of his empire boggles
the imagination. Politicians, judges, police and hoods all wanted to be
Al's friend. He could make them or break them with a nod of his head.

Big Al had an estimated 12,000 speakeasies in Chicago, all supplied
with beer and liquor that he either manufactured or smuggled into the
country. He controlled, either directly or indirectly, an army of over
700 gangsters.

Alphonse Capone had come a long way. His income was estimated at over
$6 million a week, or just under a million a day. He patrolled his
domain in a bulletproof touring car, custom-made for him for $20,000.
He travelled with an entourage that included 18 body guards and a bevy
of beautiful ladies. Al maintained two palatial homes in Chicago and an
estate on Palm Island, just off Miami Beach.

All minor threats to his kingdom were eliminated as they vied for
power. Only one enemy returned to haunt Capone. The old O'Banion gang,
now under the leadership of Bugs Moran, had managed to infringe on
Capone's speakeasy business, pushing Capone's product out of 29
establishments. And, they had hijacked nine truckloads of liquor coming
across the border from Canada. Capone was furious -- Moran had to go.

Capone called a war council, and the job of annihilating Bugs Moran was
entrusted to Jack McGurn. McGurn, who had been given the honour over
the notorious Frank Nitti because he knew some of Moran's habits, went
about his task with military efficiency.

Two professional assassins, Paul Salvanti and Alex "Bobo" Borotto,
rented a room on North Clark St., overlooking the SMC Cartage Co.
garage, which was used by Moran as one of his many headquarters.

When they paid $9 for a week's rent in advance, the landlady warned
them they couldn't practise their violas. It was obvious they were
musicians, as both men carried viola cases. When the landlady finished
showing them the room, Paul and "Bobo" set up their Thompson
submachineguns.

After the room was secured, McGurn called a meeting. Beside Salvanti
and Borotto, McGurn had recruited six other professional killers. He
explained that on the following Friday, -- Valentine's Day -- Feb. 14,
1929, Moran would visit the garage. Several members of his gang would
be there as well.

Salvanti and Borotto were given a picture of Moran, who would be
readily recognizable because he always wore brown. As soon as he
entered the garage, Salvanti and Borotto would call from the payphone
in the hall of their rooming house.

This call would serve as a signal for McGurn's plan to swing into
action. Awaiting the signal were two of the professional killers
dressed as policemen. They would swoop down on the garage in a police
car and take control of the occupants of the garage. Two more killers
would enter the garage, and together McGurn's men would annihilate
everyone in the building.

If by some miracle Moran escaped the fusillade, Salvanti and Borotto
had their submachineguns trained on the door.

McGurn phoned Capone to let him know everything was set. When informed
it was to happen on Feb. 14, Capone is reported to have said, "Ain't
that a hot one. A Valentine for Bugs. Say, Jack, make sure it's a great
big red Valentine."

Valentine's Day rolled around, and Borotto and Salvanti took up their
stand in the rooming house. As the two men peered out the window, men
started to wander into Moran's garage. In all, the signalmen watched
six men enter. They started to get nervous; no one told them there
would be that many -- they wanted only Moran.

Suddenly, a man dressed in brown came into view. Borotto and Salvanti
had a quick talk. They couldn't see his face clearly, but the clothing
was brown, he had the right build and was the right height -- it had to
be him. They rushed to the phone down the hall and gave the signal that
Moran was in the trap.

Capone's police car swung down Clark St. A short distance away, walking
toward the same destination, were Bugs Moran and two henchmen. The
lookouts had identified the wrong man. Moran wasn't in the garage.

Spotting the police car, Bugs thought it was a raid and decided to wait
out the action in a nearby restaurant.

Inside the garage, the seven members of Moran's gang knew nothing
except that all of a sudden their mascot, a German shepherd dog,
started to growl. Then two uniformed officers burst into the room. The
men, who felt they were above interference from police, at first
thought it was a joke.

The two policemen disarmed the seven captives and lined them up against
the wall. Two more gunmen joined the bogus cops, and all opened fire.
In five seconds, more than a hundred .45 calibre slugs tore into the
seven men.

One man, Frank Gusenberg, lived through the initial onslaught only to
die the same day in hospital. The dog was the only living thing to
escape without a scratch. All the killers left the garage in an orderly
manner, and got away clean.

Back in the restaurant, a passerby ran in and announced that Bugs Moran
had just been killed. Moran's face went white.

Later, when questioned about the killings, which were forever after
known as the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, Bugs Moran was quoted as
saying, "Only Al Capone kills that way." When Capone was questioned, he
could only say that at the time of the killings he was attending an
amicable meeting with a district attorney in Miami.

No one stood trial for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, but within two
years all the men who fired the fatal shots were dead. They were either
killed by police during the commission of crimes, or assassinated
gangland style by other gangsters. The era that gave rise to huge
profits and the power it gave men like Capone came to an end with the
repeal of the National Prohibition Act on Dec. 5, 1933.

Al Capone was finally cornered by the law. He received a prison
sentence of 11 years for income tax evasion, and served eight. Al lived
well in jail, but an earlier case of syphilis began to affect his
brain. He retired to his estate on Palm Island and died a syphilitic
lunatic in January 1947 at age 52.

Bugs Moran left Chicago after the attempt on his life. Nearly 20 years
later, he was convicted of bank robbery, and received a sentence of 10
years in Leavenworth Penetentiary in Kansas.

The man who wasn't in the garage on Valentine's Day outlived them all.
He died of lung cancer on Feb. 25, 1957, while serving his prison
sentence.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.