Tell Them I'll Be There (24 page)

‘You know plenty of people at the Exchange.'

He shook his head. ‘Baker has finished me there.'

‘He wouldn't do that.'

‘He would and he has. There is a side to Joe Baker you don't know, Dan. I put a little money together and he let me believe he and his friends were buying big. This is what they do. They pick out a stock. They all buy at the same time and they all sell at the same time. Make big money.'

‘Is that legal?'

‘They make the law at the Exchange. The little man can't win. I bought a share I thought would bring me close to my fifty thousand. Then when they all sold and he knew the price was going down he didn't tell me. I lost the little money I had and now I have nothing. I have to start again.'

‘So he was paying you back.'

‘He was.'

They were silent for a moment as a group of boys rode by on bicycles. Young mothers paraded new babies in their sparkling high-handled perambulators. A couple of ice-cream vendors gesticulated angrily and argued in Italian over who the corner pitch belonged to. And Dan didn't know what to say.

‘So what about Barbara?' he asked at last. ‘Why didn't he kick her out there and then?'

‘Good question,' Merrick said. ‘He knows now what she is because I told him.'

‘Why?' Dan asked innocently. ‘What is she?'

‘She's a high-class whore. Or she was until she met Baker. All those girls are linked to criminals. Barbara was one of Vincent O'Hara's girls. I wouldn't be surprised if she still is.'

‘Joe must know that.'

‘I am sure he does,' Merrick agreed. ‘But he works in some strange ways. He'll get rid of her when he's ready.'

Dan's loyalties were divided. ‘He's not a bad guy, Paul.'

‘He's OK,' he conceded, ‘and if I hadn't betrayed him …' He shrugged resignedly. ‘I thought I could do anything I wanted,
but I was wrong. And Joe Baker doesn't forget. I was a fool and when Barbara said come with me I followed.'

‘Why does he need her? She's not like a real wife.'

‘She's not a wife. They're not married. Joe is a big man at the Exchange. He attends dinners, functions. He needs something on his arm.' Merrick stood up. ‘And I need a drink.'

They strolled out of the Park and dodged their way across to the back alley bar where they knew they would be welcome and the bartender would be pleased to serve them. Merrick wanted to talk about his plans for the future. He'd had enough of his problems with Joe Baker.

He was Hungarian, he told Dan. Jewish. His name was not Paul Merrick. It was Ferenc Matthau. Like so many immigrants he had changed his name. He wanted to get into the film
business
. He was convinced he could make it big in the movies. Not acting, he said with a laugh. He wanted to produce. Two of his fellow Hungarians were already big producers in Hollywood. William Fox was running his own Fox Film Company and there was Adolph Zukor, another big name. But it was no good starting at the bottom. It could take years.

‘Why don't you go to Joe?' Dan suggested. ‘Tell him you made a terrible mistake and you've regretted it ever since. You let him down and you're sorry. Not just because you were found out but because you know now it was a lousy thing to do. You were young and stupid. OK? Tell him you want to go out West. You want to make movies. Convince him it's the next big money spinner. He's a businessman. He likes to be in on things,
especially
new things. He might even back you.'

Merrick shook his head. ‘To Joe Baker I'm nothing.'

Dan was grateful to Paul Merrick. The picture was much clearer now and he was convinced more than ever that Barbara Baker was still working for O'Hara. He wished Merrick well and he wished, too, he could help him get into the movie business. He was right. Movies were big news. Already there were over 350 movie houses or nickleodeons in New York City. According to Paul, thousands went to the movies on week nights, many a 
bored housewife went in the afternoons and probably half a million people went on a Sunday, and now there were the new talking pictures. It was only a nickel to get in, ten cents for two.

He remembered soon after they arrived, when they were living at Peg O'Malley's, the newspapers were full of pictures of the funeral of the silent movie star, Rudolph Valentino. The 'papers reckoned that over a hundred thousand people lined the streets of Manhattan to catch a glimpse of the cortége as it made its way to St Malachy's, the Catholic church on West 49
^th
. Then there was the first big ‘talkie',
The Jazz Singer
in 1927 with Al Jolson, and the next big thing was a musical,
The Broadway
Melody
. If Michael is in California, Dan thought fondly, maybe we'll see him singing on the screen one day.

He was still thinking of Paul Merrick and how he could help him when he turned off the Avenue and saw that his brother, Tim, was there, waiting for him. ‘Getting to be a habit,' he said with a laugh. ‘Turning up unexpected.'

‘I want to talk to you,' Tim said, clearly agitated.

Dan sat beside him on the stoop and listened as he raged against Father Pat. ‘That crazy Costello,' he complained. ‘You know what he's done. He's only made a deal with that evil bastard O'Hara.'

‘Tell me about it,' Dan said, ‘and watch your language. I thought you were back to being a priest.' Dan was aware that Tim had been causing trouble with his denunciations of O'Hara around the parish and close to O'Hara's house on Bedford Street. It was a dangerous game he was playing. He listened to what Tim had to say then told him, ‘Father Pat is right. Take the money. Fix the roof. And you stop rocking the boat.'

‘What!' Tim exploded. ‘You, too?'

‘Listen to me,' Dan said. ‘I don't want to tell you this, but if it'll stop you from getting yourself bumped off I will.'

‘Tell me what?'

‘You keep getting on O'Hara's back and you'll probably have a little accident. Go and work in the Church where you're needed. Trust me, O'Hara will be dealt with once and for all. My boss, Joe Baker, can pull a lot more strings than either of us 
and, I promise you, he's working on a plan to put O'Hara out of business.'

‘What can
he
do against a mobster like O'Hara?'

‘Don't ask questions. Believe me, Vincent O'Hara will be well and truly fixed.' Dan put his hand up as Tim opened his mouth. ‘I said no questions.'

Tim was reluctant to drop the subject but he recognized the look on his brother's face. ‘OK, but it had better be soon.'

‘Just do as I say,' Dan insisted. Then he smiled. ‘Have you eaten today? No, of course not. Well, let's go see your pals at Hannigans.'

Tim laughed. ‘They won't be open at this time.'

‘It's a coffee shop. We can get a sandwich or something.'

They set off walking and Tim was quiet for a while, then he said, ‘I saw your girl.'

‘Sue? Yeah, she told me. But she's not exactly my girl.'

‘She's lovely, Dan. You should hold on to her. You know, sometimes we don't realize what we have until we lose it.'

I
N 1928 AND
1929 the good times were still rolling. New Yorkers were enjoying the biggest, the longest binge in history. Yet at the NYSE few counselled caution as small investors, many of them first time buyers in the market, still rushed to risk their precious savings. Everyone was getting rich. Why shouldn't they?

But behind the scenes, unknown to the vast majority of investors, an exclusive group of ‘insiders' was controlling and manipulating share prices and one stock in particular, Radio again, pioneered by the indefatigable Michael Meehan, was the focus of their attention. In the early months of 1928 Radio had climbed to an unprecedented $420 a share. Radio executives, noting that the price was too high for the small investor, decided the shares would be divided on a five for one basis, each shareholder receiving five new shares for every one old share held.

It was when the new shares began trading that Michael Meehan took a hand. Contacting fifty or so prominent traders he invited them to join with him in a syndicate to trade a million Radio shares. It was an offer most of them found impossible to refuse. Within a few days Radio was heavily traded between members of the syndicate, the stock began to climb again and the newspapers took the bait. Radio shares were portrayed as ‘the next big thing', ‘a real buy', ‘a must have stock'. The surge in buying, it was said, had come because the company was about to launch a huge programme of expansion. Orders came in from all over the country. 

Few questioned what was happening. Apart from the odd wry comment from a perceptive columnist that this was simply about ‘whipping up the market', the newspapers excited people with lines like ‘a chance to make easy money' and ‘too good to miss'. Within a week the price of a new Radio share jumped to $109.

Joe Baker, long time friend and confidante of Michael Meehan, was well aware of what was going on. He saw, in his membership of the syndicate, the opportunity he had been waiting for. Just before the new Radio shares started to take off he instructed Dan Dolan to contact Vincent O'Hara and tell him what was about to happen. He should buy big in Radio stock, sit back and watch his money grow. O'Hara invested a quarter of a million dollars.

The wily old veteran then explained his plan. The big boss, as Dan knew, the controller of all the criminal gangs in the city at that time, was known as The Englishman and Manhattan Island was divided into well-defined areas for the purpose of organized crime. O'Hara's patch, mainly on the Lower West Side included Broad Street and Wall Street and the NYSE. The Englishman had long set his sights on what he believed should produce rich pickings in that corner of his domain and it was O'Hara's job to find a way in.

O'Hara had hoped Barbara Baker, a girl he knew as Barbara Barosnikov from a Bulgarian immigrant family, a girl who was a high-class hooker when he recruited her into his favoured circle, could find that way in. He had engineered her first meeting with Joe Baker, but since moving in with Baker, a man at the centre of the Wall Street action, she had achieved little. The fact that O'Hara now had Dan Dolan under his control was none of her doing either and in O'Hara's eyes she was enjoying just a little too much the high life and easy time she was having with Baker.

Joe Baker fully understood O'Hara's position. The Englishman, he guessed, had become more than a little
disenchanted
with O'Hara's failure to deliver. What O'Hara wanted,
needed
, was to find a cast-iron certainty for his boss. 

Now Dan was beginning to understand. O'Hara is given the big tip, he invests heavily and the syndicate pull the plug. It was more than that, Baker told him. Just watch what happens. As expected, O'Hara invested his own money and with an air of triumph he couldn't wait to pass on his inside information to his boss. The Englishman invested more than $2 million.

Dan was wide-eyed. ‘So if they fall, O'Hara falls with them.'

‘With any luck,' Baker said with a grin, ‘yeah.'

They didn't have long to wait. On Monday, March 18, almost all the Radio shares held by members of the syndicate were sold and the price fell dramatically. Thousands of small investors were left holding stock they had bought when the price was at its peak.

At Post 12 that day Dan caught up with Baker on an Exchange floor littered with paper and crowded with frantic shirt-sleeved clerks as the ticker tapes went wild. ‘Looks like it worked,' he shouted above the din. ‘I reckon I better get lost for a while.'

‘No,' Baker called back. ‘You're OK. I got Mike Meehan to pull O'Hara's shares at the top so he's done pretty well.'

‘You did what? I don't get it. What's going on?'

Baker ushered him out of the hall and into the relative quiet of a corridor. ‘I want you to call O'Hara. OK? Tell him Radio shares have taken a big dive. But he needn't worry. You pulled his out at the top and he's made a nice little pile.'

Dan still didn't understand.

‘You didn't know anything about The Englishman's
investment
,' Baker said, ‘so you couldn't save it. He loses the lot. Cool couple of million. So when you've called O'Hara you call this number and ask to speak to the man himself.'

He handed Dan a piece of paper with a telephone number.

‘Do I call him that? The Englishman?'

‘Yeah, you do,' Baker asserted. ‘A lot of people assume he's Irish like most of the clowns he employs – no disrespect, Daniel – but he doesn't like that. For some reason he's very proud of being English. OK? So you call him up, tell him he's been double-crossed. Vin O'Hara pulled his own money out at the 
top and he expected him, The Englishman, to lose all his dough. The word is O'Hara is planning to take over Manhattan.'

‘Will I get through to him?'

‘Use your natural charm, Danny Boy. But don't forget to call O'Hara first. Oh, and you don't call The Englishman from the office and you don't tell him who you are. OK? You can call him from a drugstore. Get off now, do what you have to do.'

‘What about you?' Dan asked him. Pops didn't look well. He seemed to be more short of breath than usual and, though he never looked the picture of health, his thin, lined face now had a greyish tinge. He seemed very tired, weary almost. Tired of life maybe, Dan thought. He had never seen the old man like this before. ‘I'll make the calls and I'll come back for you.'

‘No need,' Baker said airily. ‘I'll call a cab.'

Whether Pops liked it or not, Dan decided, he would consult the doctor at the first opportunity. Just as soon as he had made these two calls, in fact.

He took a cab part of the way then he walked up to Madison. At Pershing Square there was a corner café. He would make his calls from there, he decided, get them over with, but there was only one booth and it was occupied. Dan ordered coffee at the counter. He thought of O'Hara and his sidekick Jimmy Pickles. What would happen to them? The Englishman was crazy, well known for his unforgiving nature. It could mean the end for O'Hara. But Dan had no qualms about that. O'Hara was a parasite. He used people and he didn't care who he hurt. If his time was up, then so be it.

Across the way several tall posters of boxers in a fighting pose advertised forthcoming fights. There had not been a really great fighter since Jack Dempsey, Dan thought. But then, it was said, the crime lords controlled much of boxing these days. Many fights, even some of the biggest fights, were fixed.

The girl from behind the counter was out front clearing tables. ‘Hey, mister!' she called. ‘Telephone's free.'

Dan nodded and went into the booth, closing the door behind him. When he got through it was Jimmy Pickles who answered. 

‘Dolan,' he said. ‘I need to speak to your boss.'

‘About what?' Pickles demanded.

‘Boss, please,' Dan said.

Pickles swore but handed the receiver to O'Hara.

‘What do you want?' O'Hara asked.

‘That's no way to greet a colleague,' Dan told him with a laugh. ‘I don't know if you heard the news but Radio shares took a big dive this morning and they're still diving.' He waited for this to sink in, then he said, ‘But no need to worry. I saw it coming and I pulled you out at the top. Plenty of people have lost money and they're still losing, but not you. You've done pretty well, I'd say. Made quite a killing.'

‘People have lost money?' O'Hara asked weakly.

‘Oh, sure,' Dan said. ‘Big time. But not you.'

The line went dead and, with a smile, Dan immediately called the number Pops had given him.

‘Yeah?' a rough voice answered.

‘I need to speak to The Englishman.'

‘Oh yeah? About what?'

‘If you're not The Englishman you put him on fast or you'll be sorry. I've got some very hot news for him.'

‘Who is this?'

‘I said put him on. Now! Or I hang up and he won't thank you when he finds out what's happened and he didn't know about it.'

Dan could sense the tension, then a calm even voice came on and asked quietly, ‘Who is this?'

‘Doesn't matter who I am,' Dan said, matching the
reasonable
tone. ‘If you
are
The Englishman I have some information.'

‘Go on.'

‘Your investment in Radio shares, the shares Vincent O'Hara recommended, they took a big dive today. O'Hara told you Radio shares were the next big thing. And they were. Until today. Push up the price and get out at the top. Let the suckers take the rap. That was the deal and you thought you were in on it. Well, looks like he double-crossed you, Mr English. He pulled his dough out last night when the price was almost double what he paid. But 
then they went into a pretty steep dive and they're still diving. He didn't warn you, did he? Oh no. He wants you cleaned out. Rumour has it O'Hara plans to take over the whole of Manhattan, leave you out on a limb. Be seeing you, Mr English. Begging for dimes, no doubt. It's goodbye the Big Time, hello Skid Row!'

‘Who is this?' the voice that was rarely raised almost screamed down the phone but Dan Dolan had hung up.

When Nathan O'Shaughnessy was at last discharged from the hospital he was ready for work and raring to go. Sadly his job had already gone. He was bitter at first. Promoting music was the only business he wanted to be in. But then he decided maybe O'Hara's gorillas had done him a favour. He had a steel pin in his jaw, he conceded, but his head was still screwed on OK. He decided this was a chance to make a fresh start.

Like radios, sound boxes, phonographs and gramophones were selling in thousands nationwide and 75r.p.m records were selling with them. Already Columbia, Decca and HMV were household names and the little dog listening to His Master's Voice was a national treasure, recognized by everyone. The knack is, Nathan told himself, to provide the masses with what they want and he was sure he could do this. He would go into business on his own. He would launch a new record label and he would begin by changing his name. Overnight he became Nathan Shaw. All he needed now was the necessary capital.

Anxious to help, Dan arranged an interview for him with Joe Baker then one rainy afternoon in late March Nathan made his pitch. He would target the mass market, popular acts singing popular songs. Jolson, Cantor, Rudy Vallee, some young guys called The Rhythm Boys, Paul Whiteman, the Casa Loma Orchestra, the list was endless.

‘And how will you get these people?' Baker asked, quietly amused. ‘Surely they'll all be under contract.'

‘I'm working on it,' Nathan told him. ‘But that's the big stuff. To start with I got a good line in bread and butter records. These will provide a steady flow of funds to build on. Specialized music for immigrant groups.' 

One of his first records, he explained, would be a mixture of traditional Italian music, Neapolitan love songs, operatic tenors, heart-breaking stuff aimed at the homesick. And Yiddish songs for the many Jewish communities across the country. ‘I can corner the market in this stuff,' he said. ‘Give the business a solid base.'

For half an hour Nathan enthused over his plans and Joe Baker listened, his lined face giving nothing away. Then Baker glanced at his watch and held up a hand. ‘Thank you, son,' was all he said and he indicated the interview was over.

Nathan was desperately anxious to know what Baker thought but there was no way of knowing. He left the building wondering if he had overplayed the sales patter. He couldn't wait to meet up with Dan later. Dan had said his boss was a man who would make up his mind fast, not keep him waiting. If it was no, Dan said, that would be the end of it. There were no second chances with Joe Baker. If it was yes, he would say so and the money would be up front right away.

When Dan arrived that evening Nathan studied his
expression
but Dan kept a straight face. ‘So it's no dice,' Nathan decided despondently. ‘Down the pan! So what do I do now?'

‘You start making plans, Mr Nathan Shaw. That's what you do' Dan told him quietly. ‘You're up and running.'

Nathan let out a yell of delight, his fist in the air.

‘Baker,' Dan told him, ‘was impressed with your energy and enthusiasm, but not with all those big names you reeled off. That was a mistake. You don't have any of them and you have no chance of getting them. But he did like the idea of the specialized stuff. Italian music, Jewish music. Reckons you're on to
something
there. He believes you can build that solid base you mentioned, then maybe go for the big names. Good foundations, he says. What every business has to have if it's going to succeed.

‘He's offering twenty-five grand start up,' Dan said seriously, ‘and maybe more as you go along. For that he wants a twenty per cent share.'