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A good part of the social rise of Three-Finger Brown proved to have been accomplished with the aid of tiny (5 ft., 118 lbs.) Armand Chankalian, administrative assistant to U.S. Attorney Lane. Chankalian testified that not until 1950 had he come to realize that his good friend, Tommy Luchese, had so lurid a past. Then, said Chankalian, he had told Luchese, "I introduced you to some very nice people, and I owe an obligation to them . . . I'm sorry, I can't see you any more . . ." Informed that his car had been seen in front of Luchese's home four times after he last admitted to having seen his three-fingered friend, Chankalian was dumfounded. Said he: "I don't recall . . . why I should have been there."
This week the crime commission began focusing its attention on some of the less savory tricks of the politico's trade—the buying of judgeships, the salary kickback and the use of party funds as private bank accounts. The commission's shift in emphasis, however, was cold comfort to three-fingered Tommy Luchese. Agents of the FBI, the Internal Revenue Bureau, the Treasury Department's Narcotics Bureau, the New York state income tax division and the New York state parole board had all started nosing around in Tommy's past, and Attorney General James McGranery had begun proceedings to strip Luchese of his citizenship as a first move toward deportation.