Sherilyn Decter's Blog, page 4

Monk Eastman: Psychopathic New York Gangster and War Hero

[image error]Hi there- Bette Hardwick here from sometime in the 1920s.

The other night, Sherilyn and I were sitting around yackin’ about World War I veterans. We were watching that Netflicks show, “Peaky Blinders”, and a lot of the characters are vets.

She asked if any of the bootleggers and racketeers in Philly are vets, and you know… I didn’t know. So I volunteered to do a bit of research.

These are my notes from one of the gangsters I came across. Not exactly from Philadelphia, but a real honest to goodness War Hero… and quite a nasty guy.

Edward “Monk” Eastman (1875 – December 26, 1920)

[image error]Eastman was a mobster who dominated street crime in New York City around the turn of the 20th century. The moniker of “Monk,” short for monkey, was given to him by enemies who claimed that he looked like an ape.

By the time he was a teenager he had exasperated his God-fearing mother with his brawling, robberies and other anti-social acts.

Although he stood only five feet six inches tall, he was a fearsome force. He had an instinctive aptitude for street fighting. Monk was a hard punching, club swinging, ear biting eye gouging lunatic who could pummel anyone mad enough to fight him.

Eastman was known to have had a messy head of wild hair, wore a derby two sizes too small for his head, sported numerous gold-capped teeth, and often paraded around shirtless or in tatters, always accompanied by his cherished pigeons.

I found out he really liked birds, and his first and maybe only legitimate business was owner of a pet store that sold birds.

Young Eastman first made money from stealing pigeons and then selling them in his store.  Eastman could be ruthless and cruel to humans, but he loved animals.  He was usually seen strolling about with a huge blue pigeon on his shoulder and a couple of cats tucked under his massive arms. Anyone he found being cruel to animals was beaten to a pulp.

“I like de kits and boids,” Monk Eastman.

The Eastmans Gang

By some measures, he was the last of the old-school hoods who came before the Italian-American Mafia and truly organized crime.

In his glory, Monk had commanded an army of 1,200 of the city’s meanest thugs, a grimy bunch of safecrackers, pickpockets and general ruffians from dangerous dives with names like the Flea Bag, the Bucket of Blood and Suicide Hall.

The Eastman gang had turned the area between the Bowery and 14th St. into a no man’s land, pocked by brawls with such rivals as the Yakey Yakes, the Red Onions, and Paul Kelly’s fearsome Five Pointers.

In the 1890s, the Lower East Side was a warren of disease-ridden tenements for the immigrated poor and, by all accounts, its streets were a breeding ground for pickpockets, thugs, and crooks of all stripes. The economic Panic of 1893 only drove more people into poverty and crime.

These gangs grew out of the dirt-poor Jewish, Italian and Irish immigrants who flooded into New York in the late 19th century, for whom a life of crime was often the only alternative to starvation.

It was a place where a sociopath like Eastman would thrive.  Eastman gained a reputation as a neighborhood tough and eventually recruited his own gang: the Eastmans, which became one of the most powerful street gangs in New York City in its day.

In 1898, Monk Eastman was arrested and convicted under the alias William Murray (one of the many Irish aliases Eastman employed). I thought that it was interesting to see he was using an Irish alias, the same as Mickey Duffy did. (Mickey was Polish).

Eastman spent three months on Blackwell’s Island (now, Roosevelt Island) for larceny.

By this time Eastman’s gang was expanding its turf and moving into new crimes, especially prostitution. They ran a series of brothels along Allen Street, referring to themselves at the time as the Allen Street Cadets. They also dabbled in gambling, opium, and enforcement.

A New Sheriff in Town

In time, Monk’s reputation as a tough guy (despite his squat five-foot-six-inch frame) earned him the job of “sheriff” or bouncer at the New Irving Hall, a celebrated club on Broome Street, not far from his pet shop.

According to urban legend, Eastman patrolled the New Irving with a four-foot “locust,” or police day-stick, in hand, on which he carved a notch for every head bashed. On the night he reached 49 notches, Eastman reportedly whacked an innocent bystander so as to make it an even 50.

Monk was quite skilled at using brass knuckles to knock out unruly customers, but it was his proud boast that he took them off every time he had to quiet a rowdy female. He would only hit her hard enough to give her a black eye, but never with a weapon.

Early in his career, he inflicted so many injuries that ambulance drivers dubbed Bellevue Hospital’s accident ward” The Eastman Pavilion.”

[image error]At the New Irving Hall and Silver Dollar Smith’s Saloon, Eastman became acquainted with Tammany Hall politicians, who would eventually put him and his cohort to work as Election Day fixtures, voting for their candidates two, three, four or more times and suggesting to other voters that perhaps it would be healthy for them to vote the same way.

Such a valuable man as Monk made many powerful friends, and he was routinely released just as soon as he was arrested. This left him free to attend to the business of his hood-for-hire operation, which efficiently offered:

* head whackings or ear chewings for $15,

* stabbings for $25 and

* killings and other mayhem for $100.

The Five Points Gang

Eastman’s greatest rival was Paul Kelly (Paolo Antonio Vaccarelli), immigrant leader of the Italian Five Points Gang. The Eastman’s, engaged in many street battles with the Five Pointers (from which Al Capone got his criminal start). The two were surely among the first to conduct drive-by shootings.[image error]

At first, Monk had the upper hand. He led his own men into battle, and his leadership style convinced many enemy gangsters to switch sides. But the war got out of control, even by the lax standards of Tammany Hall. Innocent civilians were being killed by gang gunfire on city streets in broad daylight.

The warfare between these two gangs reached a fever pitch on September 17, 1903, with a protracted gun battle on Rivington Street involving dozens of gangsters. If you’ve ever watched the Gangs of New York, you know the battle I’m talking about.

Eastman’s reign as a leader in the gang wars of New York City came to an end on February 3, 1904, when he tried to mug a young man in Times Square. The man’s family had hired Pinkerton agents to follow him and keep him out of trouble, and the guards stopped the robbery.

Monk ran away shooting, but the cops caught him. His bloody wars with Kelly had burned up his goodwill with Tammany Hall, leaving him to face the consequences of his crime without protection.

He was convicted that year and sentenced to 10 years at Sing Sing state prison.

In 1909, Eastman was released after serving five years in prison. During his absence, the Eastman Gang had split into several factions. Since none of the surviving gang factions wanted Eastman as their leader, he was effectively out of power.

For several years, Eastman reverted to petty thievery. During this period, he became addicted to opium and served several short jail terms.

So, what’s a poor gangster to do?

World War I arrived just in time.

After the United States entered World War I in 1917, the 42-year-old Eastman decided to join the army. Razor, knife and bullet scars began at his ankles, ran up to his barrel chest and crisscrossed his neck and face. Decorating his belly were souvenirs of two slugs that had ripped through him years earlier, leaving wounds he had plugged with his fingers while dragging himself to the hospital. His nose had been mashed. On each side of his head, where most people have ears, dangled two shreds of flesh.

What battles had this man been in? the doctors wondered. Eastman replied, “Oh! A lot of little wars around New York”.

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He served in France with “O’Ryan’s Roughnecks”, the 106th Infantry Regiment of the 27th Infantry Division. Not surprisingly he proved to be a terrific soldier. He became a doughboy, fighting in the fields of France with the 106th Infantry of the 27th Division, “O’Ryan’s Roughnecks.” Eastman was fearless in battle. There, in the trenches, Monk was transformed.

The hoodlum became a hero.

There were dozens of stories of his valor. Here was Monk, galloping across the wasteland to rescue a wounded comrade. Here was Monk, leaping from crater to crater to wipe out nests of machine-gunners. Here was Monk, badly wounded, insisting upon leaving his hospital bed to rejoin his unit.

When he came home in April 1919, the men he had served with rallied behind him. The newspapers told of his redemption, holding him out as proof that even the most wretched can be saved. MONK EASTMAN WINS NEW SOUL, trumpeted the Tribune. OFFICERS AND HUNDREDS OF SOLDIERS WHO FOUGHT WITH HIM ASK GOVERNOR TO MAKE HIM CITIZEN AGAIN.

So it was that the Monk — citizenship restored, head high — marched on Fifth Ave. with other war heroes, cheered by the good people of New York who had once quaked at the mention of his name.

Back to the ‘Hood

[image error]After his discharge from the army, Eastman quickly returned to a life of petty crime. One of his partners was Jerry Bohan, a corrupt Prohibition agent.

On the morning of December 26, 1920, Eastman and Bohan met with other men at the Bluebird Cafe in Lower Manhattan. Around 4:00 am, they argued over dirty money, with Eastman and Bohan particularly at odds.

When Bohan left, Eastman followed him and accused him of being a rat. Feeling threatened, Bohan quickly shot Eastman several times with his pistol.

Buried as a War Hero

The papers called Monk a dead thug, but Monk’s comrades from the 106th would hear none of this. Hank Miller and John Boland, two men who had fought alongside Monk, put up funds for a military burial.

“Mr. Edward Eastman did more for America than Presidents and generals,” Boland announced. “The public does not reward its heroes. Now they are calling Mr. Eastman a gangster instead of praising him as one of those who saved America. But we’ll do the right thing by this soldier and give him the funeral he deserves.”

[image error]After 12 hours of a whisky-washed wake, the flag-draped coffin was borne on the shoulders of eight uniformed veterans to a waiting hearse at the Williamsburg Bridge Plaza.

A double line of 24 buddies formed an honor guard. A procession of six polished black cars and 20 horse-drawn carriages joined the parade to the military plot at Brooklyn’s Cypress Hills Cemetery.

On an overcast, freezing morning three days before New Year’s, 4,000 mourners — soldiers, women, children, blubbering old gangsters — showed up to send Monk off. [image error]Monk was dressed in full military regalia, wearing his service stripes and American Legion pin. On his shining black coffin was a silver plate inscribed Our Lost Pal. Gone But Not Forgotten.

At graveside there was a 21-gun salute, and a bugler sounded taps as Monk’s coffin was lowered into the ground.

Eastman was buried with full military honors in Cypress Hills Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York.

Flappers’ After-Sixes

[image error]Hi there- Bette Hardwick here from sometime in the 1920s-

I was at this fancy party at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel the other night. Now, that is one swanky place! All the who’s who of Philadelphia was there, which is why my editor sent me to cover the party for the women’s pages in the Inquirer.

I won’t bore you with who was there (although a certain wife of a certain bootlegger DID make an appearance), but I will tell you what they were wearing.

One of the exciting things about the Roaring Twenties is how glamorous the outfits are for stepping out at night. Lots of fringes and embroideries, feathers and rhinestones, ropes of pearls, and furs worn just so nonchalantly, draped over one shoulder and dragging on the ground.

If you’re a dame that is. The poor fellas are always in tuxedos with the big decision being a black one or a white one.

What to call the After-Six Dress?

[image error]There are many names for 1920s formal dress. All after-six dresses have the same look and feel and go by many different names. Party dresses, cocktail dresses, prom dresses, and evening dresses.

Of course, us workin’ gals just call ’em glad-rags and hit the dance floor!

 

The Look

The boyish shape that is so stylish for day wear is sought after for nighttime too, with a flattened bust, dropped waist and a loose-fitting straight cut – perfect for dancing!

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Cocktail dresses are almost always sleeveless and daringly short (from below the knee to mid-calf), although women often lengthen their hems a little bit for very formal occasions.

[image error]Popular necklines for the evening include a low square cut, scoop or V shape. One style trend is with a very low V (down to the waist) with a contrasting fabric panel inset in it. This achieves a square finish to the overall neckline and when the inset is nude—well, it looks just naughty!

Having your back to someone in a crowded room is no excuse to skimp! The backs of dresses are often just as dramatic as the front, with a low-cut scoop or V shape. Shawl-like draping is also popular with low-cut backs too.

Now, I’m no seamstress, but I think one of the popular looks is when the fabric is cut on the bias. That’s when the fabric, usually silk or satin, is cut at a 45-degree angle to its major seam lines, allowing the fabric to hang and drape in sinuous folds and stretch over the contours of a woman’s figure. The beauty of the bias cut is that the dress can be pulled on and off with ease.

[image error]There’s always lots of discussion amongst the ladies at these kinds of events about hemlines. Up? How high? Down? How far? Handkerchief points if you can’t make up your mind.

And something us dames noticed about handkerchief hems was that they look long when you’re standing still, but boy do they fly up and show a lot of leg when you’re dancing!

Of course, a lot of it depends on what kind of gams ya’ got. The better the legs, the higher the skirt.

Color and Fabric

When choosing your 1920s evening dress, don’t skimp on the fancy! Fabrics are very luxurious – velvet, silk, satin, layers of chiffon and lamé. Gold and silver metallic are eye-catching color choices. Cream, pastels and jewel tones are also common to see. Really, the sky is the limit in terms of color.

Even black has become acceptable (and wanted) for evening wear – in my mother’s day and earlier it was only worn by ladies in mourning. Thanks to Coco Chanel, who introduced the now-famous ‘Little Black Dress’. It has become an extremely popular color for evening and remains so to this day. It is perfect to show off those gorgeous decorative elements and jewelry!

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If you love the glamorous flapper evening look, check out Sherilyn’s Facebook page. She posts lots of great pictures and runs a regular Wednesday four-square of outfits and accessories where you can pick your favorite look.

Atlantic City

[image error]Hi there- Bette Hardwick here from sometime in the 1920s. I finally got a few days vacation from the Philadelphia Inquirer, and I decided to see what all the fuss was about in Atlantic City.

I gotta’ say, it’s pretty amazing.

Miles and miles of boardwalk along the beach, fresh sea air, waves rolling in, and the most beautiful sunsets. I also checked out a few of the casinos while I was in town. Seeing as I was going to be here anyway, Sherilyn wanted a bit of research on the local kingpin around here, “Nucky” Johnson.

Atlantic City has long been a place of imagination and dreams and certainly gets its fair share of gangster headlines in the newspapers. Sandwiched between New York City at one end and Philadelphia at the other, AC is the setting for Sherilyn’s four book series, Bootleggers’ Chronicles .

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Atlantic City’s Inter-City Beauty Contest” was held to entice tourists to stay for the Labor Day holiday weekend and enjoy other activities in the area.

 

History

I caught a ride up on the train, [image error]which hugs the rim of the bay at the edge of Atlantic City and connects the tiny resort town with Philadelphia.

Since they opened that railroad, it’s made it easier for more people to get here and the opening of new attractions brings 500,000 visitors a year to the city (and those are just number for the mid-1920s. It’s only going to get busier.)

Apparently, the hotels and other resort properties here are prospering like nowhere else in the country.

And that boardwalk I mentioned? Hotel owners created the first one merely to keep sand out of their lobbies. Eventually stretching seven miles to the tip of the Jersey landmass, the Boardwalk is the thing visitors remember most about a trip to AC. I picked up lots of postcards to send to folks back home.

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The Golden Age of Atlantic City

[image error]Now, I’ve heard that this was a sleepy little place before 1920. Businesses were open mainly in the summer for the tourists, and nobody much came here in the winter. (Would it be cheesy to say ‘they rolled up the boardwalk after Labor Day? I think my editor at the paper would say it’s too cheesy.)

When they passed the Volstead Act in 1920, prohibition created the opportunity for Atlantic City to shed its seasonal tourist-based economy. That Nucky Johnson character made sure that prohibition laws were not enforced in Atlantic City. They even serve booze on Sunday. Heck stores aren’t allowed to be open in America on Sundays, let along serve alcohol.

Atlantic City’s location makes it an ideal spot for smuggling. I’ve heard that around 40% of all the illegal alcohol brought into the United States comes ashore in, or near, Atlantic City. No wonder the bootleggers love this place! [image error]

The effect of all this underworld activity has been immediate, with increased prosperity and political influence at the state and national levels. They say Nucky can handpick senators and governors and even has his hooks into President Woodrow Wilson, himself. If they ever get rid of prohibition, it will spell disaster for Atlantic City, and for South Jersey as a whole.

Boardwalk Empire[image error]

When Sherilyn and I were talking about this trip to AC, she mentioned watching a show on television called Boardwalk Empire. Apparently, it’s a tragic tale of greed and violence set at the height of both Prohibition and Atlantic City’s golden age.

It’s centered on the story of Nucky Thompson (played by Steve Buscemi). Of course, like I mentioned before Nucky is real-life political juggernaut Enoch Johnson, who single-handedly controls liquor, gambling, and prostitution, among other crime markets along the Eastern seaboard.

The meeting

One of the rumors I hear (hey, even a gal reporter has sources!) is that Nucky is planning secret meetings between mob bosses from around the east coast and mid-west. They say that the “Atlantic City Conference”  will be for four days in 1929. It could lay the groundwork for the nation’s first organized-crime syndicate. I am definitely going to see if I can get sent to cover THAT story!

Eleanor Roosevelt: The Student

[image error]Hi there- Bette Hardwick here from sometime in the 1920s with the second part of a four-part series I did for the Philadelphia Inquirer on Eleanor Roosevelt, the wife of New York Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt.

There is a lot to tell, so I’ve divided my notes up into four parts: Childhood is out and School, Early Marriage, and Political Activism are coming soon.

You will remember that Eleanor had a tragic childhood and she was left an orphan at ten. Well, things finally started looking brighter when she was sent away to school.

Allenswood Academy

Eleanor and her brother Hall were sent to live with her Grandmother.

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Eleanor and Hall

Life with Grandmother Hall was confining and lonesome until Eleanor was sent to England to attend Allenswood Academy in London in 1899.

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There, Eleanor began to study under the tutelage of Mademoiselle Marie Souvestre, a bold, articulate woman whose commitment to liberal causes and detailed study of history played a key role in shaping Eleanor’s social and political development.

The three years that Eleanor spent at Allenswood were the happiest years of her adolescence. Eleanor was “‘everything’ at the school. She was beloved by everybody.”

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Marie Souvestre

 “Mlle. Souvestre shocked one into thinking, and that, on the whole, was very beneficial.” ER

Eleanor formed close, lifelong friendships with her classmates; studied language, literature, and history; learned to state her opinions on controversial political events clearly and concisely; and spent the summers traveling Europe with her headmistress, who insisted upon seeing both the grandeur and the squalor of the nations they visited.

Gradually she gained “confidence and independence” and later marveled that she was “totally without fear in this new phase of my life”.

When Eleanor returned to her family’s West 37th Street home in 1902 to make her debut, she continued to follow the principles that Souvestre instilled in her.[image error]

While dutifully obeying her family’s wishes regarding her social responsibilities, Eleanor Roosevelt became active in the social reform movement of the Progressive Era.

She was strongly influenced by the idealized example of the reform-oriented incumbent President, her uncle Theodore Roosevelt. Besides exposing her to the people of an entirely separate socio-economic class from her own and their problems, it taught her the power of organized political reform and the process necessary to legally effect fair labor practices.

Eleanor was not interested in leading the social life of a debutante as her grandmother, and other relatives expected. However, it was from this circle of other elite class women that she met others who were interested in reform efforts to improve the lives of the impoverished masses that existed within deplorable living and working conditions. These debutantes had coalesced into a formal organization known as the “Junior League,”

Eleanor also volunteered for the Consumer’s League. Her work consisted of visiting the tenement apartments where workers both lived and worked under dangerous and unhealthy conditions in these so-called “sweatshops,” her first such visits being to those who were expected to turn out thousands of little artificial flowers that would be used on hats and other clothes for manufacturer’s, but for which they were paid so little money they remained in abject poverty.

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Her commitment to these activities soon began to attract attention and Eleanor Roosevelt, much to her family’s chagrin, soon became known within New York reform circles as a staunch and dedicated worker.

There is more information on Eleanor Roosevelt in the Bootleggers Chronicles or online.

If you’re a fan of the 1920s and want a bit of escapism, consider signing up for The Unstoppable Jennie Justo. This is a great fictional story based on true facts and will give you a taste of Sherilyn’s books that I know we’re all waiting to be published.