This Day in Mafia History
Hey, listen up, pal! It’s friggin’ mind-blowing, y’know? Practically every freakin’ day of the year is tied to some important “Family” shenanigan. I mean, c’mon, you got your typical hits, your busts, those unfortunate suckers who didn’t fare too well in court, or maybe they just mysteriously vanished into thin air (Hey, Tony, where the hell are ya?). But hey, it ain’t all doom and gloom, capisce? We got some of The Boys tyin’ the knot, and others gettin’ sprung from the joint. And let me tell ya, we got these huge-ass meetups goin’ on right here too. Ya know, life’s a rollercoaster in this business.
So check it out. We got this fancy calendar thingy, right? It’s got all these tiny icons, so even you can understand what the hell’s goin’ down. And it’s packin’ all the juicy details about what went down on those dates. Keep your eyes peeled, and don’t ask too many damn questions. Got it? Good.
NOVEMBER
Alright, picture this: It's November 3, 1935. The Brooklyn boys finally corner ol' Chink Sherman. They chop him down real personal—axe, icepick, the works—before stashing his body at Jacob Drucker’s little family farm out near Hurleyville in Sullivan County. They figured it was a good, quiet spot. But wouldn't you know it, bad luck steps in; some local stiff shows up to do some work, finds a blood trail right there on the property, and it leads him straight to Sherman's quicklime grave under the barn floor. Just when things couldn’t get messier, the cops sniff out a second stiff over at Knauth Mill Pond near Spring Valley.
November 4, 1955: Willie Bioff thought he’d outrun his past, living under a fake name down in sunny Phoenix. This former pimp and Chicago Outfit rat, who sang like a canary back in the day about the Hollywood extortion racket, had just started a gig at the mob-run Riviera Casino in Vegas. Bad move. The Outfit found him, and let’s just say they gave him a going-away present: a bomb strapped to his truck, blowing him sky-high right outside his house.
Dig this: November 4, 1928—Arnold "The Brains" Rothstein, the big shot who ran this town like his own private casino, finally takes a bullet. And this ain’t no cheap hit either; it’s personal, up-close, real dirty business. The Brains hangs on for a few days, but those wounds are too much, even for him. The mastermind who knew every angle, every trick? Gone.
November 5, 1937—Dixie Davis, the slick-talking lawyer who knew how to keep the right people outta the slammer, finally gets the boot from New York. They disbar him, make it official; Dixie’s no longer welcome in the courtroom. But he ain’t stickin’ around to hear the verdict—he skips town, a fugitive lawyer with a knack for vanishin’ just when things get hot.
November 8, 1924—Chicago loses one of its most powerful players: Michele "Mike" Merlo, the big-time fixer and head of the Unione Siciliana, finally bows out after a fight with cancer. This guy wasn’t just a political heavy hitter; he was the man holding the city’s underworld together, keeping the peace among all the bootlegging gangs. And when he’s gone? That peace goes with him. With Merlo out of the picture, the floodgates open, and Chicago's bootleg wars start tearing the city apart, kicking off a decade of blood and bullets.
November 6, 1933—the Feds finally make their move. A grand jury slaps indictments on Lepke, Gurrah, and eighty of their pals, all for scheming to rig prices in the rabbit fur game. Yeah, that’s right: rabbit fur. Under the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, no less. These wise guys thought they could make their own rules, keep the cash flowing nice and steady. But now Uncle Sam’s got them on the hook for illegal price-fixing, and let’s just say the stakes are higher than fur coats.
November 9, 1961: Albert Testa, known for his counterfeiting and burglary, met a deadly end. As an associate of William "Action" Jackson, the Chicago Outfit member who was brutally tortured and murdered, Testa's number was up. Whether it was payback or tying up loose ends, one thing’s for sure—Testa’s last job was his own undoing.
November 10, 1924: Dean O'Banion, Chicago’s top bootlegger and florist to the mob, met his end right in his own shop, Schofield's Flower Shop. Frankie Yale, along with two of Capone’s hitters, paid him a deadly visit. With bullets flying among the roses, O’Banion’s reign was over, marking a bloody turning point in Chicago’s underworld.
November 10, 1957: Just days before the Apalachin fiasco, a secret gathering went down in Livingston, New Jersey, at the home of a local mafioso. Among those in attendance was none other than Vito Genovese himself. Rumor has it, they were setting the stage for the big Apalachin meet-up—plans in motion, alliances tightening, and the mob world holding its breath.
November 10, 1938—Murder, Inc. made its move. They took care of Leon Scharff, a guy they figured was gettin' a little too chatty with the wrong ears. Leon didn’t go alone, neither; his wife, Rachel, got caught in the mix too. Ain’t nobody left to talk now.
November 10, 1957: Just days before the Apalachin fiasco, a secret gathering went down in Livingston, New Jersey, at the home of a local mafioso. Among those in attendance was none other than Vito Genovese himself. Rumor has it, they were setting the stage for the big Apalachin meet-up—plans in motion, alliances tightening, and the mob world holding its breath.
November 12, 1941: Abe Reles, co-boss of the notorious Murder, Inc. and freshly turned informant, took a deadly dive from his “guarded” hotel room. Word on the street was that Albert Anastasia had thrown a $100,000 bounty on Reles’ head. Whether he slipped or got a little help on the way down, one thing was clear: snitching had a steep price.
November 13, 1972: Heavy hitters from the Colombo Family—Joseph Yacovelli, Carmine Persico, Carmine DiBiase, and Joseph Russo—found themselves slapped with indictments for trying to help Russo dodge a murder rap. But by September 25, 1973, the case hit a wall. A mistrial was declared thanks to all the heat on Persico’s past making it impossible for a fair shake.
November 14, 1958: Over sixty of the mob’s top dogs—names like Vito Genovese, Carlo Gambino, Paul Castellano, and Joe Bonanno—gathered for a hush-hush meeting at Joe Barbara’s place up in Apalachin. But instead of plotting in peace, they got a surprise visit from the law. Every big shot was pinched on the spot, blowing the lid off what the feds could no longer deny: organized crime wasn’t just a rumor. The mob was real, and this raid was the smoking gun.
November 14, 1957: Big Al Capone, once the king of Chicago’s underworld, finally got an early pass out of Alcatraz—not ‘cause he beat the system, but ‘cause his health was shot. The once-feared boss was now just a shadow, shuffling off to a hospital for treatment of paresis, the price he paid for a lifetime of living large.
November 15, 1914: Santo Trafficante, Jr.—destined to be one of the most powerful mob bosses in America—was born in Tampa, Florida. This future kingpin would go on to rule the underworld in Florida and Cuba, weaving a legacy that made the Trafficante name notorious in mob history.
November 18, 1925: A true terror was born in New Jersey—Harold "Kayo" Konigsberg, the mob’s future enforcer and ruthless loan shark. This guy would go on to earn a rep as one of the most feared muscle men in the game, making collections and settling scores with a fist or worse, all in the name of the underworld.
November 21, 1897: Don Vito Genovese, future power player of the American Mafia, was born in Italy. This man would go on to shape the underworld with an iron fist, rising through the ranks to become one of the most feared and influential mob bosses of his time.
November 22, 1902—straight outta Italy, a future kingpin enters the world. Joe Adonis, the name that’d one day send chills through New York’s underworld, breathes his first breath. Ain't nobody know it yet, but this kid's gonna carve his name in the stone-cold heart of the mob game.
Thanksgiving Eve, November 22, 1939: Benny Siegel wouldn’t back down, even when Doc Stacher pleaded with him to stay clear of the hit. But Benny didn’t listen. He showed up with Frankie Carbo, who waited for Mo Greenberg right in his own driveway. When the time came, Carbo didn’t hesitate—five shots to the head, clean and quick. Greenberg never saw it comin’. Benny and Frankie slipped away, but they left one problem behind—a witness.
November 22, 1944: The army granted Umberto "Albert" Anastasia an honorable discharge. The FBI chalked it up to "overage" at 42, though plenty of guys three years older were still being shipped off. But an anonymous source had a juicier story—seems Albert had a close associate who ran a little Jersey outfit under his thumb during the war. Word was, this operation skimmed millions right off the top from Uncle Sam.
November 23, 1965: Murray "The Camel" Humphreys, slick mob fixer and escape artist, pulled a fast one on the feds, slipping away with a revolver in hand. But hours later, the chase ended not in gunfire but with The Camel himself, found dead of an apparent heart attack. Turns out, even a legend can’t outrun fate.
November 24, 1897: In the rugged hills of Sicily, Italy, a legend was born—Salvatore Luciana, who’d later carve his name into mob history as Charlie "Lucky" Luciano. This kid would grow up to rewrite the rules of the underworld, shaping the very foundations of the American Mafia.
August 28, 1937. Someone wanted Harry Millman gone bad enough to set a car bomb at a Wayne Street cabaret, but instead, it took out the valet. That’s when Joe Zerilli made the call—straight to Gotham, for some top-shelf talent to put an end to the wildman’s luck. On November 24, Millman was sittin' pretty at Boeskey's Restaurant when two hitters caught him off guard, pumped him full of ten slugs, and left a trail of wounded, including Harry Gross, who didn't make it past December 16. Word on the street—though never pinned—pointed to two deadly Harrys: “Happy” Maione and “Pittsburgh Phil” Strauss.
November 26, 1930—a rough day for Jersey’s own Richie "The Boot" Boiardo. Somebody, maybe Longy Zwillman, maybe those Mazzocchi brothers, fills him with buckshot, leaving him clinging to life. The Newark Evening News says it best: “None of Richie’s gang is above suspicion in plotting to whack their own boss.” In the shadows of Newark, trust is as rare as mercy.
November 25, 1933—a punk named Alex "Red" Alpert, young and cocky, makes the mistake of arguing price with Harry "Pittsburgh Phil" Strauss over some hot jewelry. Big mistake. Abe Reles orders a meeting in Brownsville, where Red gets snuffed out before he knows what hit him. Cops nab Reles, Strauss, Sage, Buggsy Goldstein, and Dukey Maffetore the next day, November 26, but just like that—case dropped, lack of evidence. In this business, even justice learns to look the other way.
November 26, 1971: Joe Adonis, once a top captain under Frank Costello and a name feared on both sides of the Atlantic, met his end in Italy. Right after a grilling from the Italian police, the old mobster’s heart gave out. It was the final curtain for Adonis, going out as he lived—in the crosshairs of the law.
November 28, 1934—Dutch Schultz, the Bronx's own beer baron, finally throws in the towel, strolling into Albany to face the Feds on tax charges. The guy who’s dodged bullets and run the rackets like a pro? Now he's got Uncle Sam breathing down his neck over a stack of unpaid taxes. Schultz might be a gangster, but even he knows you don’t mess with the taxman.
November 28, 1960: The twenty mobsters who got nabbed at the infamous Apalachin Conference back in '57 walked free, with a U.S. appeals court tossing out their conspiracy charges. It was a big win for the wiseguys—once again, the law tried to hold ‘em, but the mob slipped right through the cracks.
November 29, 1933—Verne Miller, tough guy and known associate of Louis "Lepke" Buchalter, turns up dead in Detroit. Found cold, left for the rats, and word on the street says it might be Abner Zwillman’s boys who did the job. Miller ran with the big names, but in this business, loyalty only goes so far. In the end, he gets a Detroit goodbye—no mercy, no witnesses, just another loose end tied up tight.
