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.

September

September 4, 1913—New York City got itself a new player in town, Mickey Cohen. Born into the streets that never sleep, this ain’t just any date; it’s the beginning of a legend, the birth of a man who’d soon rewrite the rules of the game. Mickey was here to make noise, and trust me, everyone was gonna hear it.

September 4, 1937—John “The Fox” Torrio, the slickest operator Gotham’s ever seen, got snagged. Indicted with three of his closest associates, the big man himself was caught up in a conspiracy, dodging $110,000 in income tax. They called him “Public Enemy #1,” and now, it looks like the game just got real. The Fox’s luck? It might just have run out.

September 4, 1939—Brooklyn got a hell of a wake-up call. A local dame spotted something grisly—a body burning on a vacant lot. That charred corpse? None other than Irving “Puggy” Feinstein, a gambler with a taste for trouble. He crossed the wrong guy, Vincent Mangano, by muscling in on territory without the Mob’s blessing. Puggy made his move, and now, he’s paying the price—burned for all to see.

September 5, 1893—Naples, Italy, brought a new player into the world, and his name was Louis Capone. The future muscle of Murder, Inc. was born with the kind of grit and ambition that would make him a force to be reckoned with. This wasn’t just any birth; it was the start of a legend that would leave a trail of fear and respect in its wake. Louis was destined for the big leagues, and the streets would never be the same.

September 5, 1936—Death finally caught up with Irving Ashkenaz, a tough Lithuanian who owned a Gotham taxi service and had the guts to say no to Mob protection payments. He planned to talk to Dewey, but first, he had a stop at Lock Seldrake’s Paramount Manor Hotel. That’s where it ended—shot and stabbed by Strauss and Allie Tannenbaum, his body left half out of his cab beneath a sign that read “Hotel of Happiness.” But for Ashkenaz, there was no happiness that day—only a brutal end for a man who dared to stand up to the mob.

September 7, 1940—New York City welcomed a new face, Roy DeMeo. Little did the city know, this was the birth of a man who would one day carve out his own dark chapter in the underworld. DeMeo wasn’t just another kid from the streets; he was destined to become one of the most feared names in the business, leaving a trail of blood and whispers in his wake.

September 7, 1958, Brooklyn. John “the Mortician” Robilotto, the trigger-man they say took out Willie Moretti, got his last rites early this morning. Four .38 slugs to the head, and now he’s just another stiff dumped in the gutter. That’s how we settle scores in this city.

September 8, 1935, Baton Rouge. Huey Long took a bullet that would end his life two days later. The shooter? Dr. Carl Weiss, whose father-in-law got screwed by Long’s gerrymandering. But Weiss didn’t get far—Long’s bodyguards turned him into Swiss cheese on the spot. Now, the story’s got more versions than you can count, but one thing’s for sure: it’s a tale soaked in blood and power.

September 8, 1951, Saratoga Springs. The Feds finally caught up with Meyer Lansky, slapping him with charges for running illegal gambling. But Meyer? He’s got more tricks up his sleeve than they’ll ever know. This game ain’t over.

September 9, 1935. Bo Weinberg disappeared into thin air, and everyone knew Dutch Schultz was behind it. Bo crossed the wrong guy, and now he’s just another ghost, wiped out by Dutch’s ruthless vengeance.

September 10, 1931. On orders from Charlie Luciano and Frank Costello, Salvatore Maranzano was taken out, marking the start of the “Night of Sicilian Vespers.” That same day, Maranzano’s men, like James Marino, met their end in a hail of gunfire, while Samuel Monaco and Louis Russo were found floating in Newark Bay. It was a bloodbath, a brutal shift in power, and the old guard never saw it coming.

September 10, 1931. Abe Reles and his crew—Martin Goldstein, Happy Maione, and Harry Strauss—stood before Supreme Court Justice Lewis Fawcett on Sullivan Act charges. But luck was on their side, and the case got tossed. Just another close call for these streetwise operators.

September 11, 1932: Cops found an abandoned car near Prospect Park with Gerardo Scarpato hogtied in the backseat, wrapped in burlap like yesterday’s garbage. Scarpato, the man behind Nuova Villa Tammaro restaurant, likely got snuffed for backing Paulie Merchione against Vito Genovese over a $5,000 beef with a bootlegger named Sam Maraglia—who disappeared just days earlier. Both murders? Still unsolved, but the message was clear: cross the wrong people, and you’re

September 12, 1940. Vito Gurino, after surviving an ambush, ran to Manhattan’s Church of the Guardian Angel, half-crazed and spilling his guts to the cops. He confessed to three killings and fingered himself and four others in the Lattano-Siciliano hit, where Harry Maione allegedly dressed like a dame to pull it off. The next day, grand jurors slapped Vito with three murder charges. Once a player, now just another rat caught in the trap.

September 13, 1931. Giuseppe “Yeast Baron” Siragusa, a Castellammarese ally, was gunned down in his Pittsburgh home. The only witness? His parrot, who kept repeating, “Poor Joe! Poor Joe!” Siragusa had ties to the Gotham war, but it wasn’t just New York drama—he was tangled in a bootleg turf war with the Volpe brothers. In the end, his alliances couldn’t save him, and the parrot was left to mourn.

September 12, 1936. Joseph Rosen, a candy store owner in Brownsville, Brooklyn, and a government witness against Louis “Lepke” Buchalter, was gunned down by Emmanuel Weiss, James Ferraco, and Harry Strauss. For years, the case went cold, but in 1940, Abe Reles turned rat and fingered Buchalter for the hit. The truth finally surfaced, but by then, Rosen was long gone, just another casualty in the deadly game of the underworld.

September 13, 1931. The bodies of Samuel Monaco and Louis Russo, loyal to Maranzano, were dragged out of Newark Bay by the cops. Their corpses were marked with the brutal signs of torture. This was no ordinary hit—it was a message, loud and clear, in the bloody aftermath of Maranzano’s fall.

Cops thought they had Joe Adonis cornered when they slapped the cuffs on him for a Brooklyn truck job on September 16, 1937. They grilled him hard, even tossed two fresh murders on the table, hoping he’d crack. But by the next day, the only witness couldn’t pick him out, and Joe strolled right back onto the streets—untouchable, grinning like the city was his.

September 16, 1931. Harry “Happy” Maione put a bullet in Shapiro gangster Joey Silvers. With his dying breath, Silvers muttered, “a guy named Happy,” before checking out, leaving the cops scratching their heads. Happy Maione had struck again, and the law was left chasing shadows.

September 17, 1931. Abe Reles and his crew finally took out their longtime enemy, Meyer Shapiro, in a Lower East Side tenement basement. The cops hauled in Reles, Harry Maione, Buggsy Goldstein, Harry Strauss, and Tony “the Sheik” Carillo for questioning, but just as quick, they let them all walk. Another clean hit, another unsolved case.

September 18, 1932. Gangster Joe Valachi tied the knot, swapping bullets for vows. Even in the underworld, love finds a way.

September 19, 1940. Abe “Kid Twist” Reles pointed the finger at Albert Anastasia as the mastermind behind Puggy Feinstein’s murder. His testimony sealed the fate of Harry Strauss and Martin “Buggsy” Goldstein, convincing the jury to convict them. The Kid’s word carried weight, and two more mobsters fell.

September 19, 1957. Joseph Scalise made the fatal mistake of threatening to avenge his brother Frank’s murder. After a welcome home party, James Squillante—Albert Anastasia’s nephew—put an end to Joe’s plans. Scalise was killed and disappeared through Squillante’s garbage hauling business, never to be seen again. That’s how vendettas are silenced in this world.

September 19, 1957. Joseph Scalise made the fatal mistake of threatening to avenge his brother Frank’s murder. After a welcome home party, James Squillante—Albert Anastasia’s nephew—put an end to Joe’s plans. Scalise was killed and disappeared through Squillante’s garbage hauling business, never to be seen again. That’s how vendettas are silenced in this world.

On September 20, 1947, the big man himself, Fiorello La Guardia, the Mayor of New York, bit the dust. Cancer took him out, just like that. The Boss of the Big Apple is no more.

On September 22, 1904, Joseph Valachi, the future made man, took his first breath in the mean streets of New York City. The game would never be the same.

September 22, 1940—down in Florida, the cops fished Leo Tocci’s stiff outta Card Sound, just south of Miami. The heat slapped a fugitive warrant on ILA organizer Ed McGrath. But when Boston’s finest nabbed McGrath on October 11, coming back from a New Hampshire racetrack, he’s screaming, “I never murdered anyone!” Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but those Tocci charges? They didn’t stick.

On September 22, 1941, Ben “Bugsy” Siegel went on trial in California for the hit on Harry Greenberg, with Allie Tannenbaum spilling the beans as a star witness. But the real buzz was about how Bugsy was living it up in the L.A. County jail—catered meals, lady visitors, and even some so-called “dental visits” that let him step out. The scandal shook up the county, but the jury didn’t bite on Tannenbaum’s story. Siegel walked free, leaving Frankie Carbo holding the bag for the next round of heat.

 A police raid by the NYPD at the LaStella Restaurant in Queens, New York reveals a meeting between New York, Florida and New Orleans mafia members including Carlo Gambino, Tommy Eboli, Joe Colombo, Joey N. Gallo, Mike Miranda, Aniello Dellacroce, Dominic Alongi and Anthony Cirillo from N.Y., Carlos Marcello, Joe Marcello, Anthony Carolla and Frank Gagliano from New Orleans, along with Santo Trafficante Jr. from Tampa. The meeting, later known as “Little Apalachin Meeting”, appeared to be concerning the leadership succession within the Lucchese crime family as longtime boss Thomas Lucchese who had been hospitalized for over a year was terminally ill and basically in retirement. 

September 23, 1933—Chi-Town was buzzin’ when Sam Giancana, a sharp-dressed trigger man for the Outfit, tied the knot with Angeline DeTolve. The streets whispered like it was business, not love—‘cause when a guy like Momo says “I do,” it ain’t just a wedding, it’s a power play. Dark suits, shadowed eyes, the scent of bootleg whiskey in the air—every smile had an edge, every handshake had a price. In Chicago, even a marriage smelled like gunpowder and money.

On September 25, 1959, Anthony Carfano, a.k.a. Little Augie Pisano, got pulled away from a Lexington Avenue restaurant, with Janice Drake by his side. Hours later, the two were found dead in an abandoned car out in Queens. The cops figured it was a setup—a gunman likely hiding in the back seat, put a bullet in the back of each of their heads. A clean, cold hit.

September 23, 1933—Chi-Town was buzzin’ when Sam Giancana, a sharp-dressed trigger man for the Outfit, tied the knot with Angeline DeTolve. The streets whispered like it was business, not love—‘cause when a guy like Momo says “I do,” it ain’t just a wedding, it’s a power play. Dark suits, shadowed eyes, the scent of bootleg whiskey in the air—every smile had an edge, every handshake had a price. In Chicago, even a marriage smelled like gunpowder and money.

Before being handed a death sentence on September 26, 1940, Martin “Buggsy” Goldstein couldn’t resist one last wisecrack. He looked Judge John Fitzgerald in the eye and sneered, “Judge, I would like to pee on your leg.” Even facing the chair, Buggsy went out with defiance.

Before being handed a death sentence on September 26, 1940, Martin “Buggsy” Goldstein couldn’t resist one last wisecrack. He looked Judge John Fitzgerald in the eye and sneered, “Judge, I would like to pee on your leg.” Even facing the chair, Buggsy went out with defiance.

September 27-28, 1963. Joe Valachi took the stand and dropped bombshells at the Senate committee hearings. His sensational testimony pulled back the curtain on the Mafia, spilling secrets that shook the underworld to its core. Valachi became the rat who rewrote the rules.