A Question of Ethics: Bo Weinberg, the Syndicate, & the Art of the Double-Cross
When I set out to write a novel about East Harlem in the 1920s using the history of the Joe Noe-Arthur Flegenheimer criminal organization as a backdrop, one of the questions that I hoped to shed some light on was the chain of events that led Weinberg down a path that ultimately led to his disappearance in September of 1935.
For those that aren't familiar with the story or haven't had a chance to dive into the novel yet, a brief bit of history. In 1933, having successfully prosecuted the Capone and Guzik brothers in Chicago and then Irving Wexler, better known as Waxey Gordon, on the theory of income tax evasion, the United States Government set their eyes on a new target: Arthur Flegenheimer, more infamously known as Dutch Schultz. The Dutchman, never one to be intimidated, responded by going underground for the next two years as his army of lawyers and bagmen did their best to square the roughly $100,000 that was owed in taxes for the years 1929-1931. As it turned out, Uncle Sam was less interested in settling the outstanding debt and more interested in making the Dutchman a more or less permanent resident in one of his correctional facilities. With that in mind, Schultz decided to make himself scarce until early in 1935 when he finally surrendered himself to the authorities. More legal wrangling ensued and eventually a trial date was set for the Spring of 1935 in Syracuse, New York.
With his presence required upstate, the Dutchman left his rackets under the watchful eyes of his chief lieutenant and ace torpedo, Abraham "Bo" Weinberg. Weinberg was already famous in certain circles by then - law enforcement suspected him in a number of gangland's more prominent slayings, including such notables as Jack "Legs" Diamond, Joe "The Boss" Masseria, Salvatore Maranzano, and Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll. Such a close working relationship as a gunsel, combined with his high position within the Schultz organization, would have put Weinberg in intimate contact with the upper echelons of the downtown gangs. They may have even preferred dealing with the sartorially-inclined Weinberg (Luciano seemingly could not resist commenting on the Dutchman's poor sense of style) after Schultz took off for Syracuse and left Bo to mind the store.
Abraham “Bo” Weinberg,
at center in three-piece suit and fedora, approximately a year before his disappearance.
November, 1934.
We'll probably never know exactly how Charlie Luciano and the Syndicate approached Weinberg, but there are certain facts that provide some hints as to when he may have been approached and why he may have been more amenable to turning over the Dutchman's business interests, particularly the highly lucrative Harlem numbers racket, to Luciano and the Syndicate.
The Dutchman was subjected to two trials for income tax evasion in 1935. The first trial took place in March of that year and resulted in a hung jury. 7 jurors voted to convict and 5 favored acquittal. This outcome, in and of itself, must have come as something of a surprise to both the casual observer and to interested parties alike, as up until then Uncle Sam had put together a string of victories in the income tax cases brought against known public enemies. The decision to retry the case against the Dutchman, though, was probably less shocking. At that point, the smart money was probably still leaning towards a Schultz conviction in the next round - after all, the government had now seen the the defense's legal case and would be more prepared to refute it.
The re-trial took place during the second half of July in the upstate New York town of Malone. Most books on the subject imply that Weinberg was held in contempt of court and taken into police custody rather than testify against the Dutchman. Paul Sann, who wrote the seminal work on the career of Arthur Flegenheimer, implied as much in his chapters on the Dutchman's tax troubles but that isn't entirely accurate.
Meyer Berger, the intrepid city crime beat reporter for The New York Times (who also makes more than one appearance in the novel), covered the second trial in Malone and wrote detailed daily accounts of the goings-on inside the courthouse in Malone. His article that appeared in the Saturday, July 27, 1935 edition of The Times pointed out that Weinberg "had been jailed in New York for refusing to testify against his chief and it was expected that he would adopt the same attitude here." This was presumably a reference to the first trial in Syracuse. Weinberg, however, was not jailed for contempt of court for refusing to testify against his chief during the second trial. As Meyer Berger noted, Weinberg and another Schultz associate, Moe Margolese, were jailed before and during the trial in order to ensure their appearances as witnesses for the prosecution. When Weinberg finally did take the stand he did not, in fact, "adopt the same attitude." Instead, he displayed some willingness to assist the government in their efforts to convict the Dutchman.
Weinberg took the stand, gave his address as 1511 Sheridan Avenue in the Bronx, and then "fished in his pocket for a piece of paper." He then turned to the judge and asked if he might read from the paper. "I decline to answer," Weinberg stated, "any questions in reference to a bank account which was carried in the National City Bank in the name of George Schultz and Jack Berg (aliases for the defendant Schultz and himself) or in reference to the signature cards of said account, and also I refuse to answer any questions in reference to the bank account of the Irving Trust Company which was carried in the name of Abe Berg and Arthur New, or said signature cards, upon the grounds that said testimony will incriminate me."
"To answer any questions in regard to said accounts or cards will be compelling me to be a witness against myself, in violation of my constitutional rights. The fact that the government claims that I was an equal partner of the said defendant in each of the said accounts affirmatively shows that my refusal to answer is based upon facts and is not unreasonable or fanciful."
Incredibly, Weinberg then went on, "I wish to state to the court that if the United States Government will give me immunity as to any and all offenses committed by me against the United States Government in reference to or growing out of said bank account or signature cards, then I will gladly testify and tell the truth as to my connections with said bank accounts and signature cards."
The Government responded to the offer by stating that it could provide no such immunity and that was that. Weinberg then went on to provide a few non-answers to the Government's questions before he was dismissed and released to go about his business (the best exchange: when asked where he met Schultz in 1929, Weinberg responded casually, "I met him in many places, on corners mostly."). He was not held in contempt of court.
Oddly, no one including Berger seems to have made much of Bo Weinberg's offer to testify freely against his partner and boss in exchange for immunity from prosecution. Yet even the very offer was a gross violation of the underworld code of silence in an era when informing and turning state's evidence were still anathema in that milieu. This was, after all, 5 years before Abe Reles and Allie Tannenbaum and a legion of Murder, Inc. gunmen paraded into the Brooklyn DA's office and revealed the inner workings of the infamous murder for hire combination. It should also be noted here that, during Weinberg's testimony, an associate named Sam Morosof was called to the stand to contradict Weinberg's testimony that he only knew Morosof as "Fat Sam." When Morosof took the stand and was asked whether he was commonly known as "Fat Sam," Berger noted that the witness regarded the prosecutor " . . .owlishly for a moment. 'I don't know,' he said heavily, speaking with caution. His eyes wandered toward Schultz." Berger noted the fearful reaction and apprehension when the witness was merely asked his name. Unfortunately, he failed to record the Dutchman's reaction when his second-in-command offered to provide helpful testimony that might bolster the Government's case (Another aside from the witness box: when asked if he was commonly known as Fat Sam, Morosof replied "They call me 'Fat Sam. . . I don't look skinny.").
Perhaps little was made of Weinberg's helpful offer because the public was unaware of any rift between Schultz and his erstwhile lieutenant. The offer may have been perceived by Berger and the Government as so much courtroom bluster designed to delay and hinder the Government's efforts. If the Government thought Weinberg was bluffing, it would have been interesting to see what might have happened had the prosecutors in fact called Weinberg's bluff and granted his request (as the US Government later did to great effect by granting Sam Giancana immunity in response to his constant refrains regarding his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination).
Of course, the tantalizing question is, if Weinberg was in fact earnest as to his offer to provide useful testimony, what caused him to so drastically change his disposition from hostile to not-so-hostile witness between the trials? The spectre of his defection to the Luciano camp looms large over the events of the spring and summer of 1935.
Were there external pressures? Weinberg and Anna Mae Turner received a marriage license from the City of New York at the tail end of March 1935. Any honeymoon period would have been cut short by the Dutchman's trial in Syracuse and the subpoena compelling Weinberg to testify. His subsequent imprisonment for contempt of court would have been a difficult way for he and his his wife to begin life as newlyweds. In addition, while much has been made about the Dutchman's miserly ways, Weinberg's cut of any profits from the various rackets was no doubt diminished by the vast sums being spent on legal fees and "ice" in the form of bribes and pay-offs to keep things cool as the Dutchman was on the lam for two years from federal authorities. That alone may have been reason enough to make Weinberg willing to listen to entreaties from the Luciano camp regarding a change of leadership at the top of the Schultz organization.
Circumstantial evidence that Weinberg was not in fact a disgruntled employee was presented years later by Luciano himself in his supposed autobiography. As Lucky recounted, a deal was in place for Weinberg to turn over the Dutchman's rackets in exchange for maintaining his 10 percent interest under the new regime. Hardly the arrangement one would expect Weinberg to have struck if he felt like he had been cheated out of his fair share of the earnings by Schultz. No, more likely than not, Weinberg was simply working to maintain his position with the new status quo after Schultz was removed from the playing field by Uncle Sam. The re-trial may have also made Weinberg more amenable to the idea of selling out Schultz' interest if he was inclined to think that the Dutchman was likely to be found guilty at the end of the second trial. A takeover, then, wouldn't necessarily involve any violence or other unpleasantness. Schultz would be convicted and head off to Leavenworth or Alcatraz; Weinberg and the Syndicate would move on, absorbing the remnants of the Schultz organization and its rackets seamlessly and without any fuss. It all would have gone off without a hitch, but then the Dutchman shocked everyone with that acquittal on all counts in July of 1935.
Free to tend to his business with a fresh victory over Uncle Sam on the books (at least until the Government brought a new tax indictment against the Dutchman a few months later), Schultz set about cleaning house in his own unique way. A few weeks after Arthur Flegenheimer walked out of the courthouse in Malone a free man, Abraham "Bo" Weinberg walked out of his Manhattan hotel and was never seen nor heard from again.
Of course, Pretty knows all about it but he's not one to talk . . .
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