Until last week the official criminal record of Alphonse ("Scarface Al") Capone of Chicago, foremost U. S. gangster, stood:
1) Held by police for questioning in connection with two murders while a member of Brooklyn's Five Points Gang. Dismissed.
2) Booked as "Alfred Caponi" in Chiago in 1922 on charges of driving while intoxicated, carrying concealed weapons, assault. Never brought to trial.
3) Accused in 1922 (under the name of "Tony Capone, alias Al Brown") of the murder of Joe Howard, petty footpad and hijacker. Never brought to trial.
4) Indicted for the McSwiggin murder in 1926 in Chicago; never brought to trial.
5) Sentenced in Philadelphia in 1929 to one year in jail, of which he served ten months, for carrying concealed weapons (TiME, May 27, 1929).
Sleek, porcine, bejeweled and bespatted, "Scarface Al" last week came to grips with the law once more in his amazing extra-legal career. He admitted that he weighed 235 Ib. but protested: "I'll sweat it off this summer." As he entered Chicago's Federal Court, onlookers were surprised at the absence of a bodyguard. -'Much of this talk about my guards is bunk. Most of them are my guests," he said.
The U. S. charge which Gangster Capone found waiting for him inside the building was contempt of court. Two years ago on grounds of extreme illness he excused himself from returning from Miami to Chicago to be examined by a grand jury investigating bootleggers' incomes. Last week the Federal Government was prepared to show that Capone had been playing 'possum, could well have answered the summons to Chicago.
During the noon recess of his trial's second day, Gangster Capone was taken to the city detective bureau and docketed on a charge of vagrancy. There he described his occupation as the "real estate business," was released on $10,000 bond.
Before a flock of newshawks, Gangster Capone became expansive: ". . . Say, this is great weather you have here. It beats Miami. The old homestead looks okay. . . . I've been asked if I have come home to write the story of my life. I haven't. It would probably make a lot of money. The last bid I had was $2,000.000. . . . I saw a piece in one of the papers about a month ago telling about how I was going into the pictures. Can you fancy that?"
"What do you think of the American girl?" asked a presswoman.
"I think you're beautiful," bantered the gangster. The presswoman hurriedly retreated, startled. Then Capone entered the court room, settled down once more, confident that "they haven't got a thing on me."