He was sitting back in his swivel chair, arms folded; friendly though his expression was, he was clearly appraising me. “I can understand your point of view, Mr. Heller—but you need to understand mine: my aim is to expose the influence of the underworld on American life.”
“That simple, is it?”
“And that complex. This is the fullest, most public investigation of organized crime ever attempted in America —and we have captured the attention, and more importantly the imagination, of the press and the public. By the time we hit New York—the climax of our ‘circus’—we will be fully televised. The average American, for the first time, will be aware of the national crime syndicate—thanks to our efforts, the word ‘Mafia’ is already entering the national vocabulary.”
I sighed. “I don’t mean to knock you off your high horse, Senator—but if you really meant that, you’d be going after more than just gambling.”
Sitting forward, he fixed a penetrating gaze on me. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Heller—it’s the tie-up between crime and politics that most makes me sick…the rottenness in public life. But from what I hear and read about you, you’re a pragmatic man…and you’ll understand that I have to start somewhere.”
“Plus you don’t want to alienate these political machines that you’re gonna depend on when you run for the presidency.”
He grunted a humorless laugh. “Oh, I already have alienated them—and will further, here in Chicago, by moving the hearings up before the election.”
“Well…I have to admire your balls for that. Senator. If you’ll excuse the crudity.”
“I appreciate the compliment. Also, that you seem to understand what’s at risk for me, personally.”
I shrugged. “You may do fine without the political machines—after all, the public dearly loves a gangbuster.”
That seemed to amuse him, and he leaned his elbow against the desk and his chin against his hand. “Would it surprise you, Mr. Heller, to find out I’m a gambler myself? I do relish a good horse race.”
“I’ve heard that, Senator.” I didn’t mention I’d also heard this father of four had an eye for the skirts.
“So you might think I’m a hypocrite.” He leaned back in the chair again, rocking a little. “But it’s a bit like the situation your friend Eliot Ness was in, back in Prohibition days. Mr. Ness, I understand, likes to take a drink now and then.”
These days, Eliot was damn near a lush.
But I just said, “You could say that.”
“Still, Ness knew the Mafia underworld was tied up in bootlegging…and that every other sin that can be marketed to man, from prostitution to dope peddling, was part of the same vile syndicate. So he went after the bootleggers. Here in Chicago—do I have to tell you?—you have the national race wire, the manufacture and distribution of coin-operated machines, including slots, and the numbers racket and every other manner of illegal gambling you can think of, flourishing openly.”
“That’s Chicago, Senator. Do you really think you’re going to change it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t change human nature…” But then he began to nod. “We can, however, expose these vicious, homicidal thugs…who think murders like those of Bill Drury and Marvin Bas are just the price of doing business.”
Now I leaned back, folding my arms. “What if I were to tell you that those murders were hired by Syndicate renegades? That Accardo and Ricca and the rest had expressly forbidden those murders—but Charley Fischetti hired them done, just the same.”
The eyes behind the round lenses widened. “Are you providing me with information, Mr. Heller?”
“If you want to call it that. And this…right here…is what you should be doing, if you really want to investigate the Outfit. You want help fighting this war, Senator? Then don’t put guys like me on the stand, where we embarrass ourselves and get added to the same hit list as Drury and Bas. Talk to us behind the scenes, on the q.t. But no—you want to play Ed Sullivan, and put on a show.”
“I think you misconstrue our motives—”
“Maybe I do. But can you seriously think putting some mobster on the stand will result in a meaningful dialogue? The revealing of new, key evidence? I know you’re just campaigning for president, Senator—I mean, don’t kid a kidder.”
His smile settled in one cheek. “I’m surprised at you, Mr. Heller. I understood you had a highly successful office in Hollywood—I assumed that you understood show business.”
“I don’t follow you.”
He leaned forward again. “Most of what we’re gathering is from confidential sources. Frankly, if Bill Drury hadn’t been so intent on clearing himself, and pursuing his crusade in so public a fashion, he would have been more useful to us—and might still be alive.”
“Go on.”
“Most of our leads are from private, unofficial sources. Newspaper reporters on local crime beats…private eyes like yourself…honest cops caught in the middle of crooked administrations…smalltime hoodlums who want to get quietly even with their bosses.”
“And these people never get called as witnesses.”
“That’s right; we protect them, keep them behind the scenes. We put the information these confidential sources have provided us in front of the American people, by posing embarrassing questions of gangsters who invariably respond by pleading the fifth.”
I was starting to get it. Kefauver was shrewder than I’d given him credit for. “And you guys can’t get sued for libel, ’cause you’re a congressional committee—legally privileged.”
