Charley and Meyer

Owney Madden got out of the big Packard sedan in front of a nondescript gin mill on the corner of 46^th and 9^th.  He shot his cuffs and adjusted his tie. He liked to look just right. It was a legacy of his days as a poor kid in Hell’s Kitchen. He always dressed to the nines and affected the look of the WASPs that controlled the city. The real racket guys.

The door to the pub opened and Big Bill Dwyer beckoned him inside. “God bless ya Owney, thanks for coming. Let’s sit and talk over a dram. We have some things to discuss.” “Sure thing Bill. Lead the way.”

They walked into the pub which was typical of the gin mills of the time. A few decorations such as a buffalo head and an autographed photo of John L Sullivan in a cracked glass picture frame. This place was famous for being one of his haunts back when he was touring the country threatening to beat up anyone in the joint. Of course he would never have done that to Owney. You see he earned his nickname at a very early age. They called him “The Killer.”

As they approached the back booth Owney hesitated for just a second. There was an Italian fella sitting with his back against the wall. Owney though he recognized him. His name was Castiglia or something like that there. Of course he tried to pass himself off as an Irishman so he went by the moniker of Frank Costello.

The dapperly dressed dago stood up and extended his hand. “Hello Mr. Madden. It is an honor to meet you. My name is Frank Costello.” Owney gripped his hand. Firmly but not overly so. With his rep you didn’t have to play games. “Costello is it? I heard your name is Francisco Castiglia or have I been lied to once again?” He glanced at Dwyer when he said it. “No you are not wrong Mr. Madden. I just go by Costello. It is easier that way. You know how the swells are these days. They barely acknowledge the Irish. They won’t do business with a dirty dago. Needs are as must be. Can we speak for a moment?” “Aye we can. Bill wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

Owney looked over at Dwyer who hung his head shamefacedly and scuffed his stained brogan on the sawdust covered floor. “Owney I think it is very important and we need to talk to young Frank. We need to get ahead of things as it were. That’s all.” “Well we shall see. Let’s sit. A tipple would be good Bill. See to it will you?” Dwyer nodded quickly and went off behind the bar. Costello watched and turned his gaze back to Madden. That was a power play. Dwyer was supposed to be Madden’s partner. He had just made him into a waiter.

They sat in the booth. Big Bill brought over three glasses of the Irish neat and sat down next to Owney facing Costello. A silence ensued.

“Mr. Madden I am sure you know of Charley Luciano and his partner Meyer Lansky?” inquired Costello. “I am indeed familiar with them. Lower East Side boyos as I recall. I know they both were working for Rothstein for a while. I would run into them at Lindy’s in his company now and then. But I hear they have graduated to bigger things.” “Yes. Yes they have. We have been offered an opportunity to bring in some premium whiskey from Europe and we are looking for partners. Reliable partners. Honorable partners who can move the goods in their territories without fuss and muss. Charley was just wondering if that is something you and the Irish might like to explore?”

Owney took a short sip of his drink to give himself a minute to think. “The Irish? That encompass a lot of people lad. Why come to me?” “You are too modest Mr. Madden. Your reach and respect among your countrymen is second to none. Charley and Meyer feel if we can partner with you the rest of the Emerald Isle will fall right in line.” Frank looked at Dwyer and nodded to acknowledge him as being part of the conversation but Big Bill looked away. He had made his choice. Owney called the shots.

“That’s very flattering but it leaves out a big question. I hear young Charley works for Joe the Boss these days. And Joe the Boss hates the Irish. The Jews too for that matter so I don’t think he is in bed with your Mr. Lansky either. So how can you offer a deal when your boss will repudiate it.”

Frank Costello looked down at his drink. Troubled. As though he had to think about what he was going to say. Picked up the drink and slugged down half of it. Started to cough. It wasn’t wine. Not by a long shot. Frank didn’t even drink. After the coughing fit subsided he looked back up at Owney.

“I don’t want to get into what is going on in my neck of the woods. Let’s just say that there are changes in the wind. What they will be I am not totally sure yet. But I am sure that Charley can offer you some premium hooch at great prices. Delivered to your doorstep. Guarantied. No questions asked.”

Owney raised an eyebrow. “You said a lot by saying very little there Frank. I will have to think on it. But one thing you can tell Charley. I am always willing to do business with a reputable man. He has that reputation. He knows mine. We can go ahead on that basis if he wants. Payment on receipt of the goods.”

“That’s all we ask Mr. Madden. That’s all we ask. Thank you for seeing me. I will  be in touch.” Frank Costello slid out of the booth. Picked up his fedora and walked out on to the street.

Owney Madden turned and looked at Big Bill Dwyer. ‘Well, well that was indeed very interesting Bill. But don’t ever surprise me like that again.” “Sure Owney. It just happened so fast I thought we had to get ahead of it. What do you think is going on?” “Oh the king is in trouble William. I just hope those youngsters know that if you strike at the king you have to kill him. Because if you don’t….well it beggars the mind what that pig Masseira will do. Best we get our boys on their toes as well. See to it.”