Pork and Beans

Pork and Beans is a thrilling journey into gangland Chicago set in the 1950’s in the waning days of the absolute power and corruption of the gang controlled streets.

This story is a collection of memories about true stories and actual events from one man who relates his efforts to leave the organized crime environment of the infamous Melrose Park; and his life of criminal cronies to begin a new and normal life.

The story is an incredible and revealing narrative about life on the inside of the gritty gangland lifestyle. It is a compelling and contemporary accounting that brings forth an array of emotions; beginning with a painful and barren childhood, to the streets of crime and the most notorious gangster criminals from the annals of Chicago history.

Johnny Altier finds normal life boring and far less fruitful than his former lifestyle and income. He struggles daily with day to day events and earnings; finally emerging with this collection of funny, compelling and sometimes gruesome and heartless stories!

Table of Contents

Prologue

Dedication

A Note From The Author

Chapter 1. Times They Are A Changin’

Chapter 2. A Barn Fire

Chapter 3. The Meeting

Chapter 4. Viva Las Vegas

Chapter 5. Oz

Chapter 6. Everybody Up!

Chapter 7. The Nod

Chapter 8. The Set Up

Chapter 9. He Ain’t Heavy

Chapter 10. Layin’ Low

Chapter 11. Americanism

Chapter 12. Road Trip

Chapter 13. Ill Gotten Gains

Chapter 14. The Arrival

Chapter 15. Friend or Foe

Chapter 16. Surprise Guests

Chapter 17. The Story

Chapter 18. Lost In The System

Chapter 19. The Cheese Caper

Chapter 20. The Palace

Chapter 21. The New Business

Chapter 22. The Crash of ‘84

Chapter 23. Hello Hollywood!

Chapter 24. The Big One

Chapter 25. North Lake Bank Robbery

Chapter 26. The Next Move

Chapter 27. Palm Springs

Chapter 28. The Book Deal

Chapter 29. That Toddlin’ Town

Chapter 30. Collusion

Chapter 31. Little Egypt

Chapter 32. Who’s Drivin’

Chapter 33. That’s A Wrap!

Cast The Characters!

Pork and Beans

List of Illustrations

Figure 1. Ralph Marco

Figure 2. Johanna Elftmann

Figure 3. Rocky De’Grazia Mugshot

Figure 4. Rocky De' Grazia

Figure 5. Rocky De' Grazia Obituary

Figure 6. Rocky De' Grazia Headstone

Figure 7. Sergeant John Nagle

Figure 8. Officer Anthony Perri

Figure 9. Nagle Perri Memorial Park

Figure 10. Rocco Pranno under Arrest 1966

Figure 11. Rocco Pranno entering court

Figure 12. Rocco Pranno leaving Joliet

Figure 13. Mobsters!

Figure 14. Joey Spota

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my beloved sister Johanna. Though she has passed from our life far too soon, her fun loving spirit and the joy she brought to our family in those trauma filled and very dark days are shared throughout the pages of Pork and Beans.

Chapter 1

Times They Are a Changin’

Once in the racket you're always in it.

~Al Capone

On a beautiful fall morning in Chicago, Johnny Altier strolled out to the front yard and picked up his newspaper. Typically on a morning like this no one is in a hurry. It’s like they don’t want to disturb the quiet, peaceful feeling of such a morning. For Johnny Altier, this perfect morning wouldn’t last long.

He unfolds the morning paper to read the glaring headline ‘Mob Trial Gangster Sentenced to Forty Seven Years O.C.’. The two letters that appear so innocent, have such an impact. ‘O.C.’ stands for Organized Crime; this means you'll do every day of your sentence. No good time, no matter how you did your time. You’re just fucked, that’s all.

This is the way the Feds were getting everyone to rat on each other. You beef; they drop the ‘O.C.’ from your charge. Rat and you get less time and you serve your time in protective custody. Ain’t that some shit? But this is how it’s goes.

Things are changing fast and that’s all there is to it. Johnny knew these headlines were becoming all too common. It was time to make a change, Johnny knew this for sure. He would need Tommy’s blessing before any changes could happen. Johnny knew time was short; a sit down was the answer.

Johnny Altier came up in the streets of Chicago. Like a lot of guys, he honored a code of silence, loyalty and respect. Johnny worked his way up and earned the respect of the older guys in the neighborhood. By eighteen he was running numbers as a regular for Tommy G., a powerful member on the street. All the older guys loved Johnny the Kid. See, Johnny had a special talent. He remembered every number anyone played. He would give the customer a receipt, but he wouldn’t write the ticket until he was back at the office. This way he couldn’t be caught carrying tickets. This was hot shit! The old guys loved it.

By the time Johnny turned thirty he had climbed way up in Tommy’s crew. He was one of the top dogs and Tommy loved him! Tommy Gun Grasso; what a guy! Here was the perfect gangster. He had it all. The right clothes, the right car, the right girl, I mean, he had it all right down to the gray hair over his ears. When you have jet-black hair like he does, the gray hair was like a gift from God. The girls loved it. How tough was he? It didn’t matter. When you looked like Tommy G. Nobody wanted to find out! Don’t get me wrong, Tommy G. was tough, real tough. The truth is he never had to prove it. When Tommy G. showed up at a thing, it was over. He didn’t have to lift a finger. Tommy was tough all right.

Tommy loved Johnny and that’s all it took. Johnny was in as far as the street was concerned. It was like Johnny was Tommy and that was a good thing. Tommy G. and his crew were great earners. They were street smart and never greedy. Tommy G. ran the business like a C.E.O. from Wall Street. No shit, these guys paid all taxes on time, every time. They paid taxes they didn’t even owe!

This crew was different than your run of the mill street crew. Instead of fighting over every deduction a good accountant could take, they would just pay. If the I.R.S. caught it, they turned it over to the accountants, if not they felt invisible. These guys ran stores, car lots, lounges, body shops and beef stands. Whatever business they opened stayed opened. They were operated with pride. That was their way.

Tommy G. took pride in another fact; none of his guys spent one night in jail, with one exception, Frankie Peppers. Now keep in mind that Frankie was a tall, gangly fast talking guy with a great smile. I guess you could say he was a special case. He loved to mess with the cops just for the hell of it. He was truly a mad man but everybody loved him; Truth be known, even the cops that knew him, loved him.

Anyway, he just came back from Jew town. That’s correct, there’s a place called Jew town and it didn’t piss off no one. At the intersection of Maxwell and Hallstead Sts., in downtown Chicago was the place every hustler went to buy wholesale. It was great! Suits, sweaters and double knit suede sweaters, whatever you needed to make a deal!

This is how it worked; you could go into Harry Hartman’s and many others like Smoky Joe’s and so on. If you knew your way around, you could make some great deals. Like a suit with a jacket, vest and two pair of slacks for a saw buck, that’s ten dollars. You believe that shit? Frankie would make a deal, shoot back to the suburbs and from the trunk of his car, sell a suit or sweater for good mark up depending on how big a chooch he was talking to.

Sometimes Frankie would make two trips to Maxwell Street the same day. He loved going downtown and buying shit and acting like it was hot. People loved to buy shit if they thought it was hot! It was like they had an ‘in’ with the mob, it was great.

Now Frankie is so excited at his success, he gets stopped for speeding. Normally anyone else would mind their P’s and Q’s and get the fuck out of there, but not Frankie, nope not him. He has to fuck with the cop’s! He just loved to fuck with cops, any cop. You believe that shit? He was a mad man! He makes a deal with Tuppie Raegoli, a Melrose Park cop. After showing him the goods he had in his trunk, Tuppie was all ears. What’s the deal?

Frankie, just to bust balls, tells Tuppie to take him to the station so they could let Tuppie’s buddies in on the deal. Of course, Tuppie would get a kickback.

So, adding insult to injury they head for the Melrose Park police station. Frankie couldn’t wait to sell every cop a suit and sweater. Frankie sells almost every cop a suit and sweater. Now, what he forgets to tell them is that while the suit looks like a million bucks on the hanger, when they put them on they would wrinkle like an accordion if you wore them for an evening. You could never get the wrinkles out, never! Anyway, this is how Frankie ends up in the Melrose Park jail for three days; cuz that’s how long it took to let every cop who bought a suit get their licks in. Frankie had to pay back every penny. If you ask Frankie today, he would tell you it was worth it, and if he had the chance, he would do it again. It took a set of brass balls to want to mess with Melrose Park cop’s for any reason.

It was a small town by comparison, but let me tell you it was one tough place to be. It was all Italian and you could find any character you could think of. For instance, guys like Lefty Bertello, Mike ‘the Brew’ Marino and Ralph ‘Babe’ Serpieo, ‘Faccia Bruciato’. This is not a name, it means, face that burned. Now here’s a story; remember all the characters in this story have passed decades ago. So here goes…

Chapter 2

A Barn Fire

In a restaurant in New York City, a great guy named Tony M. Started his night shift as the second line cook. Every time Tony started a shift; one of the other cooks would leave soon after. This happened time and time again, until one night a co-worker asked Tony if he thought it was a little funny that every time he came on shift, Nick, the first cook, who was on the same schedule, would leave and did he wonder where he might be going? Tony, who was known to be a little temperamental, grabbed him up by the scruff of his neck and said, If you know something I should know, you better spit it out or I’ll break your fuckin’ neck! With that, the little creep spilled his guts. He tells Tony he overheard Nick talking on the phone. He goes on to tell Tony the call was one of those girly calls and he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Then Nick called her Nina, like your wife. I didn’t know what to do; what if I was wrong?

I’m real sorry Tony. That’s all I know for sure, the rest I put together on my own. Cringing, he says, but I think I’m right.

Now the story goes like this. Tony, enraged by the thought that this could be true, runs out of the kitchen and heads for home. He keeps thinking over and over again how he noticed a recent change in his wife, but hoped it would be ok.

He approaches his house on foot, slips in through the side entrance and quietly makes his way to the kitchen. The partially filled wine glasses on the table and the squeaky sounds of the bed from upstairs, removed any doubt he may have had. A cold calmness came over Tony as he picked up each glass and finished the wine. He drops his coat to the floor, exposing the large knife in his belt. He climbed the stairs, careful to stay to the left, avoiding the creaking steps he was so familiar with.

Reaching the landing, the sounds of betrayal filled his ears. Tony felt a physical sense of heat behind his eyes. He could feel the fire behind his neck and ears and his heart was pounding as he stepped from the dark hallway into the dimly lit room. There was no doubt what Tony had to do. With no hesitation, Tony closes the distance between him and Nick, and in an instant, pulling Nick’s head back; he cuts his throat with one hand and throws Nick’s flailing body to the floor.

Nina lifts her head and opens her eyes. She felt a warm spray cover her breasts and in the candle light she could see it was blood.

She calls out in a whisper, Nick? Nick? There is no response. Nina clutches the white sheet to her breast and slips out of bed. Before she took the first step, she could see Nick’s lifeless body at the foot of the bed. She knew she was next. She steps back and sits up on the bed, motionless, as if waiting her turn.

A whisper from behind breaks the silence. Just two words; I’m sorry. Tony pulls her head back and with one motion, delivers her fate.

Tony, completely detached from the reality of his deed, holds Nina in his arms until her life runs out. At a point of complete exhaustion he collapsed alongside the blood soaked bed. It was deadly silent but for the beating of his own heart. He could hardly remember the last sound he heard. This ghastly deed was perpetrated in almost complete silence!

For Tony, this would be a blessing. Could it be? Did his horrific act go unnoticed?

He pulls himself together, washing the blood from his hands. He could only think that he wasn’t sorry for killing that rat bastard, Nick, but Tony knew he had to get out of town.

He showers, changes clothes, grabs the bill money, his stash from the dresser drawer. Stepping over Nick’s naked body, Tony checks the pile of clothes on the floor for a wallet. He starts to take the cash out of Nick’s wallet. Tony hesitates. He leans against the wall and looks at Nick’s driver’s license and thinking out loud says, what if we switch identities? I’ll burn this to joint to the ground and nobody the wiser! I’m going to Chicago as Nick and he can stay here as me.

Tony put on Nick’s coat, then switches his clothes with him, soaks Nick with lighter fluid and places his body over some of the clothes. He takes the time to do a good job of soaking those clothes.

Now to ignite the fire, Tony needs time to be out of the immediate area. He looks around the room then he moves a candle in close proximity to Nick’s body. As it burns down, it should start the drapes first, and then the fluid soaked clothes and that will be that. Tony figures this gives him twenty minutes or so, and he finishes by soaking the bed where Nina lay.

Tony pulls the door closed. Quietly he leaves through the side yard to the ally. Nick’s car should be parked in the empty lot next door. Sure enough, it is. Tony starts the car and backs slowly into the ally. He waits to turn on the head lights. No doubt Chicago is the place he could hide out: the Italians were a closed mouth group.

Here is where he becomes ‘Faccia Bruciato’. He settled on a small farm-like property at 23rd Avenue and Augusta,