Into New York City police headquarters last week walked a twinkly-eyed little man between two Federal agents. At the desk Lieutenant James Finn, oldtime New York detective, glanced up in surprise, remarked: "Hello, Johnny. I haven't seen you in a long time." Into his handkerchief Johnny spat an inaudible reply.
That police had finally nailed John Torrio on an ordinary revenue law violation seemed thoroughly in keeping with that gangster's fabulous career. A small-time tough who operated an East Side poolroom in Manhattan before the War, Torrio rose to be a rugged member of...
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