Free The Outfit by Gus Russo

quick to acquire well-placed friends, among them Parker Henderson, Jr., the son of the former mayor of Miami, and John Lummus, the current mayor. Henderson picked up Al’s disbursements from Chicago - some $31,000 sent to “Albert Costa,” while Lummus, also a leading Realtor, sold Capone a home on Palm Island on the Intra-coastal waterway for $40,000 ($350,000 by current standards). For political purposes, Lummus told his constituents that he was maneuvering Capone out of town. To cover their tracks, Capone and Lummus instructed Henderson to take title to the property. Capone kept a low profile when in Miami, save for his temperamental, but futile, appearances on tennis courts and golfing greens, where he was seen hurling rackets and clubs in hacker’s frustration.
    But no matter where he traveled, Capone was never far from a Commission stronghold. It did not take extraordinary brainpower for Capone to realize that he could not fight all the hoods now aligned against him. To survive, he had to lie low. But even his new Florida estate could not supply the security needed to forestall the professional killers who were nipping at his heels. Johnny Torrio advised, “The safest place in the world is inside a jail. Let’s ask Boo-Boo.”
    Max “Boo-Boo” Hoff was the boss of Philadelphia much as Al was in Chicago. In a prearranged “collar,” Hoff tipped two Philadelphia cops, whom Capone saw socially when they visited Florida, that Capone would be transiting their town carrying a concealed weapon. Capone further tipped them $20,000 when they arrested him. He was sentenced to a year in jail. While incarcerated he told a Philadelphia public safety director that he was tired of the gang life. “I’ve been in this racket long enough,” Capone said. He spoke of his longing for peace of mind. “Every minute I was in danger of death . . . I’m tired of the gang murders and the gang shootings . . . During the last two years I’ve been trying to get out. But once in the racket you’re always in it, it seems. The parasites trail you, begging you for favors and for money, and you can never get away from them, no matter where you go.”
    Capone was placed in the Eastern Penitentiary, where he was provided for like the king that he was: a cell with thick carpets, a phone with which to make limitless long-distance phone calls at the state’s expense, a matching cabinet radio and chest of drawers. When asked by the warden if he desired that a stock ticker be installed, he responded, in typical Syndicate style, “No thanks. I never gamble.”
    In March 1930, Capone decided he wanted out of lockup, and so he left. What happened next will never be completely comprehended. In 1930, Capone adopted a Christ-like persona, performing every charitable work imaginable short of raising the dead. This period crystallized the inherent contradiction of the gangster as Robin Hood. Whether it was a coldly calculated, Madison Avenue-worthy attempt to sway public opinion back in his direction after the public relations disaster of the Valentine’s Day massacre, or a genuine conviction of the heart, will never be known. Historians note that a possible incentive was an appeasement of the Unione membership, -who were disgusted with the gangster involvement in their leadership putsches. Al may also have sensed his upcoming legal denouement, and thus the need to sway the potential jury pool. In any event, the largesse dispensed by Capone in what turned out to be the waning days of his reign is nothing if not staggering, with everything from handing out money to the needy to creating soup kitchens that fed some ten thousand per day. 11
    The sudden display of altruism was to no avail. On the home front, as well as in Washington, serious challenges were being mounted against Capone’s dominion. The newly elected “reform” mayor, Anton Cermak, launched a war on gangsters in general, and Capone in particular. Cermak even allied with the