CHAPTER 16 BUDDY CAN YOU SPARE A DIME:
It was the Great Depression, and the people had come upon hard times. Inflation had risen to twenty nine percent, and the poor working stiff found himself standing in the bread line. Meantime other groups of people decided that to be poor was not for them.
In a tough neighborhood on the lower side of Manhattan known as Hell's Kitchen a group of young toughs came together to beat their way out of poverty. They were part of the influx of immigrants, which came to America to seek a better life. Being influenced by the power structure of the old Mafia, these toughs became known as the Castalono family. Their stock and trade was strong arm robbery, extortion, and prostitution.
Among them was a young tough who went by the name of Valentino Danafio. Smiley, as his friends knew him, was a ruthless killer whose trademark was a friendly smile. Blessed with movie actor looks, Smiley was a ladies man of the highest order. Tall, dark, and handsome, smiley reminded you of Clark Gable.
He climbed the ladder of the Castalono family power structure quickly to become one of the bosses before he was thirty years old. Under Smiley's leadership, the Castalono family became almost respectable. It was Smiley's idea to go into the hotel business. Because of his affinity with women, one of his responsibilities was to organize and run the whorehouses. Again, under smiley's leadership the profits from the prostitution were big business.
At the same time, another group of modern day pirates were launching their ship of crime on the sea of human suffering. They became known as the Gallabraizzy family. Like the Castalono family their stock and trade was robbery, prostitution, and extortion. It was only a matter of time before the two power structures would clash in a bloody war on the streets of New York.
There had been bad blood between both families for some time. On a hot and sticky day in late summer, the two families opened fire upon each other with ferocious fury. The incident exploded onto the front pages of all the New York newspapers as well as on the radio. Walter Winchell was broadcasting accurate accounts of the gun battles, and he was naming names.
(“Good evening mister and misses America this is Walter Winchell broadcasting directly from the famous Stork Club located in the heart of New York's Manhattan! Now let's go to press: Another bloody gun battle broke out on the streets of New York today. My sources tell me that it is part of the on going feud between the Castalono and Gallabraizzy families. Nick Roselli, who is reputed to be a top-level soldier for the Gallabraizzy family, was found dead on the sidewalk in front of Victor's Lounge; a favorite watering hole of New York's underworld. Roselli succumbed to numerous bullet wounds as he was gunned down in the power struggle between the two alleged mafia families. In other news … “)
The newspapers were showing bloody pictures of gangsters who had been dispatched by the use of a Chicago typewriter. The mayor of New York was calling for calm as the people demanded law and order.
“Son of a bitch! These gun-slinging gangsters are taking over the whole city. They are making off with big sacks of money while the average guy is begging for a crust of bread. Me! I am sitting here on my ass while my business goes down the drain. Clients of mine who were used to making thousands a week in the stock market are now selling apples on the street corners. ”, he remarked.
Robert Solaman sat at his desk in the law offices of Robert . Solaman Attorney at Law while he examined the books, which foretold of pending doom. Robert Solaman was a moderately successful lawyer who made a living in contract law specializing in stock market transactions. Prior to Black Tuesday, Solaman and his little law firm provided a respectable living affording a house in the suburbs and all the scotch he could drink. Located in the business district not far from Wall Street, the little law firm had seen its' better days. To make ends meet, Solaman had been taking on the odd client handling divorces. The high priced stock brokers and their trophy wives had become a source of income for Robert Solaman as the Great Depression took its' toll upon both the used to be rich and the about to be poor people.
The trophy wives were dumping their bankrupted husbands like hot potatoes in an attempt to salvage whatever money was left in the relationship. It was one of these relationships, which sent Robert Solaman on an errand to meet another disgruntled wife.
In a cafe located in the Wall Street business district, Jane Sandherst Cramer sat waiting for Robert Solaman. The business of the day involved the separation of Mrs. Cramer from her now unemployed stockbroker husband.
“Excuse me, are you Misses Cramer?”, Robert Solaman addressed a well-dressed woman sitting at the bar.
“Yes, are you Robert Solaman? “, the very pretty young woman replied.
“I was expecting a much older woman. Please forgive me“, Solaman began.
“And I was expecting a short, fat, and bald old bookkeeper type. “, Jane Cramer smiled pleasantly.
The two made an attractive couple as they sat at the bar. Robert Solaman appeared to be in his forties. He was not a tall man, but neither was he short. He had kept himself in good trim by playing racket ball at one of the local health clubs, which catered to the Wall Street businessman. Here he could run off some of the unwanted pounds while he made important contacts among the Wall Street stockbrokers. The slight hint of white hair at his temples, which set off his dark black hair, gave him a dignified look. Glancing through cloudy blue eyes, Solaman sized up the pretty package sitting at the bar as he ordered a Scotch.
Jane Sandherst Cramer was every bit of the trophy wife. Dressed in the finest designer clothes imported from France, she drew admiring looks from every gentleman in the cafe. Her platinum colored hair and emerald green eyes were impossible to ignore. Adorned with gold and diamonds, she virtually glittered. The ring on her left hand was a complicated affair consisting of a large oval shaped diamond, which was supported by a border of perfectly cut emeralds, and seem somehow to pick up the color of her pretty eyes.
In these days of economic upheaval, one could not help but realize that the ring on her finger was capable of supporting a home for orphans for at least a year if it was to be turned into cash. Jane Sandherst Cramer was in no way affected by the current down draft of the economy. Jane Sandherst Cramer was in fact a wealthy socialite who was the daughter of Chester Sandherst the multimillionaire who owned and ran Sandherst industries with an iron hand.
“Why don't you arrange a table for us Mister Solaman? I would like to talk to you about something, which is of some concern. “, the pretty blonde said.
“ why not, after all this is why I have come here today Misses Cramer. And by the way you don't have to call me Mister Solaman. Just call me Bob. “, Bob said.
“All right, and you can call me Jane. “, she said.
They settled into a corner booth in the back of the cafe, and they made themselves comfortable.
