We continue with Andy DiLigio’s expose on the Norwegian Mob in America; the Capone years.

Inside The Norwegian Mob In America

Andy DiLigio

It was 1947; the funeral of mobster Alfonse Capone, at a cemetary in south Chicago.

In attendance were a small collection of ageing ex-gangsters, a few newspaper reporters, a couple of not-all-that-surreptitious Feds…

…and a single middle-aged man in a US Postal Service uniform.

——–

Colorful mob capo Al Capone had cut a bloody, flamboyant swathe through American organized crime.  He co-opted entire city governments, including those of Chicago and Saint Paul.  He took out bloody vengeance on friend and enemy alike for slights real and imagined, business and personal, up to and including the Valentine’s Day Massacre.

Of course, all of his power and influence traced back to legislation – Prohibition – engineered by a shadowy cabal of Norwegian-Americans; The Volstead Act was initiated by John Volstead, born “Vralstad” in the Norwegian-American community of Granite Falls, initiated into the Mob at Saint Olaf, the outwardly-bucolic campus in Northfield, Minnesota that has served as a training ground for so many Norwegian mobsters.

Eventually, Capone got too powerful.  The Feds made a great show of floundering about trying to shut down Capone and his gang.

And then – in the late twenties – the FBI plucked a young agent, Elliot Ness, from obscurity, and “tasked” him with trying to bring Capone down.

And on the surface, he was having absolutely no luck at all.

Capone, like most of the Italian, Irish and Russian/Jewish gangs that the Hartelowen family ran like puppets, lived large and flaunted his wealth and power.  And yet, he made certain to keep his legal bases covered.  He owned so many judges, prosecutors and cops in Chicago (as well as his summer home, Saint Paul) that nobody could ever bring a case against him.

Worse still?  Agent Ness noted in his diary that Capone was absolutely, rigidly punctilious about the one thing Ness had counted on to try to bring down other mobsters.  From a report to J. Edgar Hoover, in Ness’ handwriting, from the Ness personal papers:

My informants tell me that Capone lacks the one achilles heel of most mobsters; he is punctilious to the point of obsessive-compulsion about filing his taxes.  We have a recording of a conversation with one Capone staffer, a “consigliere” named Vittorio D’Amato; “that’s the Chicago way; you get five dollars in income, you put one of ’em in the bank; you get a tax form, you put it in the mail!”.

Mr. Hoover, if he is this punctilious about paying his taxes, I have no idea how we’re going to break this case.

Yours,

Ness

P.S. No, I have not seen a gladiator fight.

And yet, within the year, Ness was able to write to Hoover:

Mr. Hoover,

I just had the most extraordinary break on the Capone case.  An anonymous informant left me a message saying that Capone had not filed taxes for seven years.

And, oddly, the next morning, I came to the office to find that someone had left a Chicago Street Department barrel with dozens of un-postmarked manila envelopes addressed to the Internal Revenue Department, from Mr. D’Amato, Mr. Capone’s accountant.  Many of these envelopes were rain-damaged and heavily weathered and stained apparently by the effluvia of other trash, while others – newer ones – were relatively pristine.  In these envelopes were contained all of Mr. Capone’s tax documents for the previous eight years.

Mr. Hoover, I believe this gives us leave to prosecute Mr. Capone for tax evasion.

I’m not sure if you or “Mr. Giggles” believes in God, Mr. Hoover, but after this, I’m a believer.

With Warmest Regards,

Elliot Ness.

Within the year, the federal government sought and got a conviction against Capone, who served eleven years in prison.

Among those testifying at his trial was his postman, Lars Hartelowen.  Who testified that everything always seemed above-board at the Capone residence.

———-

As I sat, drinking Folgers and eating krumkakke at the Ace Cafe, Jeff Hartelowen indulges in a rare outburst of emotion – a mild chuckle.

“That was Dad’s (Lars’) greatest accomplishment; getting all them Italian mobsters to spend time in Saint Paul.  Right under our noses.  They thought they owned the place, ya?” he says, smiling in a way that seems to pull his face unnaturally, “but they didn’t make a move that wasn’t being watched by us”.  His Rådgiver Yetterboe and his son grin.  “And Elliott Ness?

“What about him?” I ask, not quite following. Yetterboe shakes his head.

“Well”, says Hartelowen, patiently, “who do you think Ness was really working for?”

Next week:  Gødfellås

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