St. Valentine's Day Massacre Reenactment

Friends of ours: Al Capone, Bugs Moran

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre is the crime that forever defined Chicago in the imagination of the world. On the morning of February 14th, Al Capone sent a Valentine to "Bugs" Moran and the north side mob ... a massacre leaving seven of Moran's men dead. Since Tommy Gun's Garage is Chicago's only south side speakeasy, and therefore part of the Capone gang, Tommy Gun's will reenact the massacre for audiences on February 9th - 14th.

This is not a romantic evening. After the dinner and show, guests are invited to watch what happened that morning at the garage of the SMC Cartage Company, 2122 North Clark Street. Vito, the MC, narrates the story, giving audiences a history of why this happened and who the seven unfortunate victims were.

Actors portray each of the seven victims, who believed that they were at the garage to pick up a shipment of hijacked Old Log Cabin Whiskey. After all the men "arrive" two of Capone's men pretend to be police officers and line up all the men to be handcuffed. In walk two more men and they all open fire on the actors. To achieve realism, each "victim" is equipped with blood bags that burst when the gun is fired.

This is Tommy Gun's 19th year reenacting the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Call 773-RAT-A-TAT for prices and reservations. Tommy Gun's Garage is Chicago's longest running audience interactive dinner theater show. A night at Tommy Gun's is a night in Prohibition-era Chicago, complete with singing, dancing, and musical comedy starring Vito and his gangsters and flappers. The evening of the massacres include the same dinner packages and show.

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6 Years in Prison for Embarrassed Riccitelli

Friends of ours: Victor Riccitelli, Gambino Crime Family, Anthony Megale

Prosecutors said he should have spent his old age planting gardens or visiting his grandchildren, but instead 72-year-old Victor Riccitelli was running gambling operations for the mob. Friday, a federal judge sentenced him to 6 years in prison for racketeering, flatly rejecting his argument that prosecutors sought to embarrass him by releasing transcripts of his conversations with an FBI informant.

U.S. District Judge Janet Bond Arterton also found "somewhat preposterous" the argument that, when the convicted mobster was recorded discussing his Mafia induction ceremony and the hierarchy of the Gambino crime family, he claimed to have been repeating things he read in a book or saw on the HBO drama "The Sopranos."

Riccitelli, who has 29 convictions dating to the 1950s, became one of the most colorful characters in the landmark Mafia case federal prosecutors brought in 2004. He allegedly moved bulk cocaine - a fact prosecutors said he hid from his mob superiors - and was caught on tape negotiating deals while receiving treatment for colon cancer. "He started chemo in January of '04 and sold a kilo (of cocaine) in February of '04," Arterton said, later adding, "Mr. Riccitelli is a man of great stamina, it would seem."

He was also caught on tape trying to arrange a kidnapping, surprising prosecutors who said most criminals slow down in their old age. "Spend time with the grandkids, plant a garden - something other than plan a kidnapping," prosecutor Mike Gustafson said.

Riccitelli, who is already serving 13 years in prison on federal drug charges, told Arterton he was in the "wrong place at the wrong time." "All I know how to do is gamble. I had no education," Riccitelli said. "I leave my faith up to you."

While all of Riccitelli's co-defendants, including reputed Mafia underboss Anthony Megale, struck plea deals with prosecutors, Riccitelli became a thorn in the side of the Justice Department. He rejected plea deals, accused the FBI of selectively recording him and claimed no knowledge of the Gambino family. Only on the eve of trial, as prosecutors prepared to make public hours of taped conversations between Riccitelli and the informant, did Riccitelli admit his Mafia membership and plead guilty.

Soon after, prosecutors shocked Riccitelli when they released transcripts of his conversations anyway, revealing that he talked freely about the secretive world of the Gambino family. Riccitelli accused the Justice Department of overstepping its bounds and intentionally embarrassing him. "It's turning into something personal against Mr. Riccitelli or using him as a scapegoat to put on a dog-and-pony show against, as your honor calls it, the Mafia," attorney John Einhorn said.

Arterton agreed that he could serve the new prison sentence at the same time as his drug sentence but said she did not accept his argument of prosecutorial misconduct or his renewed efforts to distance himself from the crime family.

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Reputed mobster, Schweihs, blames court absence on ill heart

Friends of ours: Frank "the German" Schweihs, Joey "the Clown" Lombardo, James Marcello

Alleged mob hit man Frank "the German" Schweihs denied Wednesday that he refused to come to federal court in Chicago the day before as scheduled. Instead Schweihs said, he was unable to come to court because he was under the care of two doctors at the federal jail downtown. "They had me down in the dispensary with all kinds of wires hooked up to me. I was having trouble with my heart," he said.

Schweihs and 11 other men, including alleged Outfit bosses Joey "the Clown" Lombardo and James Marcello, are charged with a racketeering conspiracy that prosecutors say was based in murder and extortion. Schweihs was a fugitive for eight months before he was captured in December. During both of his court appearances in Chicago, he has complained of health problems.

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Prosecutors deny mobster's "embarrassment" claim

Friends of ours: Victor Riccitelli

Federal prosecutors said Wednesday that they had every right to release transcripts of a Bridgeport mobster's incriminating conversations about the Mafia last month, rejecting the mobster's claim that they were trying to embarrass him. Victor Riccitelli, 72, who faces sentencing for racketeering Friday, broke the mob's honor code in October, admitting his Mafia membership and pleading guilty rather than have secret FBI tapes played in court.

Prosecutors surprised Riccitelli in December, however, when they included details of his conversations in a memo placed in the public court file. The conversations included descriptions of the Mafia induction ceremony and the mob's leadership structure.

Riccitelli accused prosecutors of intentionally embarrassing him and asked a judge to dismiss the case. Prosecutors rejected that argument Wednesday, saying they were just trying to prove that Riccitelli lied under oath when he said his conversations about the Mafia were just things he had read in a book. If the judge wants more evidence, prosecutors said, they're happy to play the secret recordings in open court and discuss them then.

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Joey's a load of laughs ... or buckshot

Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, Frank "the German" Schweihs, Paul Schiro
Friends of mine: William Hanhardt, Chris Spina

It must be difficult to tell jokes while you're wearing leg irons and an orange federal jumpsuit, facing the possibility you could spend the rest of your life sharing prison space with some Colombian drug dealer, a blue tattoo covering half his face. But Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, 77, couldn't help but be amusing in federal court Tuesday after spending nine months as a fugitive from the FBI until his arrest late last week.

He pleaded not-guilty to a charge of conspiring in the 1974 shotgun murder of government witness Daniel Seifert. Then U.S. District Judge James Zagel asked Lombardo if a doctor had examined him. "I didn't see my doctor since nine months ago," said Lombardo. "I was--what do they call it? I was unavailable."

That got laughs. Even Zagel smiled. The criminal defense lawyers representing other Outfit figures in the federal government's Operation Family Secrets prosecution laughed too. One of them slapped Lombardo hard on the back.

Though he's pushing 80, Lombardo's runty and bandy legged in his jumpsuit, suggesting he had an active youth. His pantlegs are short, the cuffs rolled up several times, and he leaned on one foot, then the other, the leg irons connecting his ankles. And though he was joking and polite and cast as a colorful rogue, you could see something in him still.

You could see it in his back and in the way he folded his fingers together and held the hands up to his face while the judge was speaking, how he rubbed his lips with his thumbs, listening, eyes moving quickly in his head. Here's what you could see: You could still see the ape in the man.

We asked Jack O'Rourke, a former FBI agent, what was so scary about the Clown. Jack was polite but sounded as if he thought it was a silly question. What was so scary about Lombardo? "Well, he had absolute power and he could get you killed, that's basically it," O'Rourke said.

I've heard that sometimes, if Lombardo's really in a clowning mood, he'll take a photograph of himself and cut his own head off, then stick his photograph head onto another picture, perhaps some gorgeous supermodel in a calendar or an athlete on a poster. That's funny, isn't it? Or he'll point to a fish on the wall, some bass that got caught and mounted, and he'll say, "Hey, he wouldn't get caught if he didn't open his mouth." That's funny too.

One of my favorite Lombardo jokes took place after he had served time in prison for conspiring to bribe U.S. Sen. Howard Cannon (D-Nev.) and another conviction for plotting to skim $2 million from a Las Vegas casino. In 1992 he took an ad in the Tribune and other papers saying he wasn't a mobster anymore:"If anyone hears my name used in connection with criminal activity, please notify the FBI, local police, and my parole officer, Ron Kumke."

At that time, he was being driven around town on the taxpayer's dime by a $30 per hour city Streets and San foreman, Chris Spina. Chris, or Christy, had a trucking company, Spingee Trucking, and that firm received contracts in the mayor's Hired Truck program, and Spina's trucks may even have had engines. Former City Inspector General Alexander Vroustouris made all of this public in 1993 and tried to get Spina fired. But that's not the funny part.

The funny part is that after Vroustouris moved to fire him, and exposed the trucks and the Lombardo connection, the Illinois Appellate Court reinstated Spina and he got a raise, and Spina only recently retired with a full city pension. So Spina didn't get fired. It was Vroustouris who got fired later.

Then there was the time five years ago that I went looking for Lombardo at a nice little restaurant on Grand Avenue with my first legman, named Slim the Legman.

We were there to ask Lombardo about William Hanhardt, the former chief of detectives for the Chicago Police Department, who was just indicted and who would later plead guilty to running an Outfit-sanctioned jewelry theft ring.

One of Hanhardt's partners in the ring, Paul Schiro, has been indicted in the Operation Family Secrets case that has also indicted Lombardo, reputed hit man Frank "The German" Schweihs and others.

Lombardo was in the restaurant, and he had a gold St. Christopher medallion around his neck.

Sitting with Slim, I took out my notebook and tape recorder, to let Lombardo know I was coming over. He snapped his fingers and bus boys ran over to shovel his food into takeout containers. Then he left.

I asked the manger why Lombardo left so quickly. The manager said it wasn't Lombardo.

"No. That was Mr. Irwin Goldman. I think it was, yeah, Mr. Goldman," he said.

Irwin Goldman wearing a St. Christopher medallion? Are you kidding?

"You're funny," the manager said. "That's funny."

But I'm not the funny one. I keep hearing how Lombardo is funny. I'm sure he's a riot.

I'm just wondering how funny he'd be with a shotgun in his hands.

Thanks to John Kass

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