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The committee examined the mayor's appointments. He had, O'Dwyer admitted, named friends or protégés of Frank Costello to a city marshal's job and a judgeship; one of his deputy hospital commissioners was a brother-in-law of Gangster Willie Moretti (although O'Dwyer said he did not know that at the time); Fire Commissioner Frank Quayle was a friend of Super-Hood Joe Adonis, and the mayor knew it when he named him. "There are things you have to do politically if you want to get cooperation," he protested.
Matter-of-factly, owlish Rudolph Halley turned to a less titillating line of questioning. Did O'Dwyer know one John P. Crane, president of the Uniformed Firemen's Association? Yes, O'Dwyer knew Crane.
Q. Did he, during the year 1949, visit you at Gracie Mansion [residence of New York mayors]? A. Possible.
Q. Did he ever come alone? A. I never recall him coming alone.
Q. Do you know whether Crane ever made any campaign contributions? A. I don't know.
Q. Did he ever make any through you? A. He did not.
Citizenship. As innocently as he had entered it, Lawyer Halley left that subject. Not long afterwards, Ambassador O'Dwyer's two-day stand came to an end. The hearings' other star, Big-Shot Gambler Frank Costello, returned to the stage. After croaking that he was in no state to talk and walking out on the committee, Costello changed his mind. His high-pitched voice had improved (it now sounded midway between the speaking voice of Eddie Cantor and the death rattle of a seagull). He was willing to talk, at least to the extent of saying "I don't recall," or "Refreshen my memory, please."
Costello insisted that he was not interested in politics, had never cast a vote in his life. But didn't he know an awful lot of politicians? Well, yes, he admitted; in fact, he was on close to very close terms with Tammany Hall leaders in ten of the city's 16 Districts. Of course, explained Costello, he never discussed politics with the politicians. "I'll eat with them and drink with them," he said. "If they do talk about politics, I don't pay no attention to them."
It was also coincidental that the list of Costello's acquaintances in the underworld read like a gangland Who's Who—the late Al Capone and most of Al's present-day heirs in Chicago, the exiled Lucky Luciano of dope and prostitution fame, Racketeer Adonis. Doggedly, Costello refused to tell what he was worth, admitting only to about $230,000 worth, including about $40,000 in pin money locked up in a little safe in his Central Park West penthouse.
Tobey broke in: "What did you ever do for your country as a good citizen?" It was a tough and not necessarily fair question. Frank Costello thought hard. "Paid my taxes," he finally piped.