Free "Patsy!": The Life and Times of Lee Harvey Oswald by Douglas Brode Page B

State) after his conviction on charges relating to prostitution. An ambitious Republican, Thomas Dewey, he an aspiring presidential candidate, put Charley away to forge a reputation as the next Eliot Ness. From behind bars, Charley continued to run things in the Mob. Initially, he passed orders on to his second-in-command, the Sotto-capo Vito Genovese, later to Vito's eventual replacement, Charley’s old pal Frank Costello. Both tried to coordinate their activities with those of Lansky and the Jewish mob, these two organizations having merged into The Combination. Neither could manage a working relationship as casual and efficient as the one between Luciano and Lansky, based on a childhood friendship.
    However unpleasant a prison cell may be, Charley never lost a sense of himself as a true American patriot. When the U.S. military determined that the invasion of Italy must begin with an upward strike on southern Sicily, Charley offered his full services. The only way in which such an attack could succeed would be if the local Mafiosi cooperated. That would not happen unless members of that Sicilian organization first received some sign from one of their American counterparts. So Luciano, by means known only to him, communicated a green light.
    For a price, of course. Always, there is a price.
    After victory was achieved, the U.S. had to find some way to say ‘thank you’. Simply letting Lucky walk free? Out of the question. Instead, the unanimous decision was to deport him back to Italy, where Charley could live as a free man. Even Dewey, the G-man who sent Charley up the river, agreed that some sort of compensation had to be extended. The catch was, Luciano had to exit the U.S. at once. There was no schedule, however, as to when he must arrive back home. Charley took the brief flight down to Havana and for the next year ran Mob operations on America’s mainland from there. Luciano communicated daily via phone with Lansky and their man in Miami, Santo Trafficante, Jr.
    In Havana, Charley noticed strong business opportunities itching for proper exploitation. These included two casinos located in an area referred to as Oriental Park, a racetrack currently in disrepair, once magnets for wealthy U.S. fun-seekers during the Roaring 1920s. During what had been tagged The Jazz Age, American horse-owners and jockeys cruised on down to compete. Along with them arrived rich tourists eager to squander stock market earnings in exotic destinations. While Prohibition remained the law of the land back home, here they could enjoy alcohol, gambling, music, food, and raw, open sex.
    With an emphasis on the latter. Dark sex. Forbidden sex. The kind of sex that smart-suited business types in respectable places like St. Louis, Kansas City, even Dubuque IA secretly hungered for and could afford. Leaving their straight-laced public images at home, such people traveled to Cuba in droves.
    All that came to a swift end with the stock market crash of October 29, 1929. After Black Tuesday, ever fewer people were in a position to pony up the dough. As a result of America's crisis, things quickly turned desperate in Havana. The casinos, at best half full during the early-to mid-1930s, lost their luster. By The Great Depression’s end, the track opened each day mostly for locals, these not from the respectable social strata.
    This might have continued until the dissipating buildings were eventually torn down for firewood had Charley not one fine day taken a mid-morning drive out to play the horses. After a close consideration of his surroundings, Luciano sensed that, as in time strength gradually returned to the U.S. economy, here was a perfect place to re-develop for those who would shortly enjoy affluence, able to as in the good old days spend and play.
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    â€œI told ya so,” his pal Meyer laughed when Charley soon mentioned his discovery during a phone conversation. Lansky came to a similar conclusion way back in 1938, when he