When shrimpy Dick Morrison, bush-league burglar, was dressed out of Chicago's House of Correction in the fall of 1957 after serving four months on a petty larceny conviction, he hung up his flashlight, he says, and pretty much set about trying to be a good boy. He found honest work with an oil company by day and a pizzeria by night and settled down to thoughts of marriage and meeting pay ments for the new furniture in his North Side apartment.
Then Morrison fell in with a bad crowd. He accepted a commission to...
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