THE FRONTIER IN AMERICAN HISTORY - CHAPTER # 1

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE FRONTIER IN AMERICAN HISTORY  -  CHAPTER  #  1

#  1  > In a recent bulletin of the Superintendent of the Census for 1890 appear these significant words: "Up to and including 1880 the country had a frontier of settlement, but at present the unstteled area has been so broken into by isolated bodies of settlement that there can hardly be said to be a frontier line. In the discussion of its extent, its westward movement, etc., it can not, therefore, any longer hav e a place in the census reports."

PUBLIC ENEMIES: 5 TRUE CRIME GANGSTERS - PT. 9

LUCKY LUCIANO-FROM STREETWISE KID OF THE FATHER OF ORGANIZED CRIME
#  1  > The crowded streets of the lower east side babbled with voices and dark alleyways moved with shadows; mostly vermin, both human and animal. Salvatore stayed close to his mother as the family searched the numbers along the street of the address that would be home. This place was very different from Sicily, as Salvatore watched the movement of the crowds and listened to the voices, he felt invisible, not a bad feeling really, melting into the mixing pot and becoming invisible made his heart race.

 #  2  > Salvatore Lucania was a slender, average size ten-year-old boy when his family emigrated from Sicily to the lower east of New York City. He could not speak Italian/English accents that floated on the air in the bakery where his mother purchased bread for the evening meal.Ten-year-old Salvatore went to school with neighbor hood children and ignored the lessons. He was not interested in learning, he could not follow along or read the books; on the streets, he could learn more, on the streets, the people spoke Italian and English. Soon Salvatore foung himself in alleyways playing dice instead of sitting in a classroom. He won money and a new nickname in the alleyways of the lower east side; "Lucky." Between lucrative games of dice, he took a job delivering hats for $7.00 a week; not much but it was a respectable way to explain the gambling money to his parents. Playing dice and delivering hats provided Lucky with extra cash, the cash made him popular; everyone knew him, even the lowest of the low knew his name.

# 3 It was late afternoon, almost quitting time when he heard the muffled shouts leaking from the alley next to the bakery. Lucky recognized the voices, the one pleading was Meyer Lansky; the others were punks who lost money to him throwing dice. Lucky threw open the door t0o the bakery and tossed the last of his hats on the counter, "I'll be right back Sal, keep an eye on these for me" he was gone before Sal could say no. "Is this how you bums get the pennies you gamble with? Lucky grumbled as he stepped between Meyer and the others. "What gives Lucky?" one of the boys said as he glared into his eyes. "Meyer here is a pal of mine and you two ain't, so I guess you wise guys are gonna have to give." Lucky leaned in close and pushed the boy to the ground. "He ain't nobody to us Lucky, and if ya were smart you'd find a new pal." The other boy said as he watched Lucky reach into his pocket. Remember his name the next time you punks think about startin trouble." 

# 4 Lucky smirked as he pulled a blade from his pocket and flecked the edge open. "Yeah, we got it, Lansky...sorry about that Lansky, we thought you was someone else."  "If you two plan on throw in the dice tonight ya better bring bills; no more pennies." Lucky closed the blade and he and Meyer Lansky left the two bums in the alley. Meyer Lansky was not Italian and that was a problem in the neighborhood; a problem for Lansky and a few others. The gangs that ran the streets were Italian; Jewish guys were not welcome or respected. Lucky could care less about heritage...money, respect, and power fueled his ambition. As Lucky grew older, his gambling and neighborhood associations began to grow into something different. He began taking money for protection; the Jewish gangs needed protection and Lucky wanted the money. Those who wouldn't pay for protection with cash, paid for it with a beating. Lucky and Lansky worked together; Lansky facilitated the negotiations and Lucky sealed the deals. Time went by and Lucky's racket turned into a gang of its own with Lucky calling the shots. At age of 21, Lucky had made a name for himself and began rubbing elbows with crime bosses. Lansky remained a close confidant but stayed in the shadows during negotiations and meetings. There were rules in organized crime; the Costa Nostra did not include men like Lansky. 

5. - The Eighteenth Amendment provided a market that supported organized crime and Lucky placed his gang in the middle of the bootlegging and carved out a niche for himself and his boys. His niche involved territory run by the crime boss Joe Masseria. Lucky and his boys were involved in the protection racket and dabbled in vice but when they began making waves for Masseria he received an invitation to meet with the man himself. Lucky adopted the name Luciano to shield his parents and the family name from connection with his criminal activities. Lucky Luciano finally hit the big time and became a gunman for Joe Masseria;  now he had money but he wanted more respect and power. He worked alongside Masseria's men, working his way up through the ranks of the family until he was a respected member, and a trusted confidant of Masseria himself... 
The word trust reminded Lucky of his switchblade...two edges, two sides, and both sharp enough to slice to the bone. The thought of blood quickened his pulse, "truth is arbitrary" his mind whispered as he stepped into the old warehouse to meet with Masseria. "You're late!" Masseria grunted between clenched teeth. The smoke from his cigar curled around his head as he stared at Lucky, waiting for an apology. "I couldn't find the dump boss." He took off his hat and held out a peace offering...an expensive Cuban cigar. Masseria took the cigar and looked it ov er, "nice, woulda been nicer if you was on time and I lit this one before this stinkin log." Both men laughed as Masseria crushed out his cigar with the heel of his shoe. "No spats boss? I am on my third pair; blood stains." Lucky quipped as he offered Masseria a light.   

6. - "Yeah, yeah, tough guy...sit down and  listen; we got problems so start shoppin for a new pair for yourself, it's gonna be messy." Masseria was a big man, not to tall but big. His voice boomed as he spoke and he made gestures with his arms and hands as if he was playing charades. Lucky watched and listened as Masseria explained the problem. A rival boss, Salvatore Maranzano was moving in on Masseria, Salvatore arrived recently from Sicily to run things for the Castellammarese clan. Lucky knew Maranzano, he knew what he thought about Masseria...now Masseria wanted Maranzano dead, he shouted and waved his arms, his face flushed red as he ranted. "Respect is important." Lucky thought to himself as he watched Masseria rant and rave. "No problem boss." Lucky said as he left the meeting. The words "No Problem" were not a lie they were a fact. Lucky would have no problem handling Maranzano. He stooped for a new pair of spats before heading to the hotel to meet with Mr. Maranzano.

7.  Maranzano was a severe looking man, very serious and his tall stature provided him with a commanding presence in any crowed. "Did that stupid man enjoy the cigar?" Maranzano asked as Lucky took off his hat and relaxed into the chair across from him. "I'm not sure, he spent more time spitting and shouting than he did enjoying the cigar." He watched Maranzano pour scotch into a glass and crossed his legs...admiring the clean, fresh, spats as he did. "Have you made a decision?" Maranzano smiled as he handed Lucky a glass of scotch. "What decision, Masseria is useless; I didn't need to think about it much. I am not the only one who left that meeting, I will take care of Masseria before anyone comes looking for you." Lucky let the scotch burn the tip of his tongue before swallowing. "Then we are in agreement, you will take over for Masseria and I will wait for news of his retirement." Maranzano said shaking Luciano's hand. Meyer Lansky popped open the car door when he saw Lucky emerge from the hotel. "Well, did he say he would give you Masseria's cut?"  

8.  "I don't need him to give me anything Meyer...I need you to give word to Anastasia and the others, were going to Coney Island for Masseria's retirement party." He smirked and handed Lansky one of the Cuban cigars he had in his pocket. "Light up, we are celebrating." Genovese, Anastasia, Busy, and Adonis waited quietly in the pavilion across from where Lucky, Masseria, and two of Masseria's men were eating lunch. They watched anxiously for Lucky to make his move. The large tommy gun at Anastasia's side bulged beneath his long coat. Genovese flicked his lighter until Bugsy snatched it and lit a smoke. "What's he doing, eatin everything in the joint!" Adonis whispered loudly as he pulled his fedora over his eyes.

{ 9 }. - Genovese felt Anastasia stiffen at his side, Lucky left the table and headed for the bathroom...The four hit men sauntered over to the cafe, Anastasia kicked open the door and began spraying bullets at Masseria and his men but it was a single shot from Bugsy's pistol that hit Masseria in the head. Patrons ran for the back of the room, away from the gunfire and blood. Masseria slumped forward on the table...blood soaking the white linen tablecloth, his hands limp at his side. Adonis kicked the bodies of Masseria's men, "yup, they're gone." He said motioning for the others to follow him out. Lucky listened from the men's room...men shouting, women screaming, guns firing. He waited until the cafe fell silent, and then he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. In the mirror, he saw a man with respect and power staring back at him, a smart man, a man with a cold smile and sharp fedora. He straightened his hat and left the cafe without a second look at the mess his boys made; and his spats were spotless. Coney Island and the bloody retirement party for Masseria opened new doors for Luciano; big impressive doors to rooms full of power, riches, and respect.r