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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
One morning, as he came in, Mr. Ebstein called me into his office and pointed to a newspaper headline. An Italian woman and some accomplices had been arrested on a charge of white slavery, involving twelve to fourteen year old girls. Each of the accused had been placed under a fifty thousand dollar bail. Ebstein asked me to go and investigate. It I could establish contact with the proper parties, I should try to have them come to his office. I was to offer the possibility of having the bail reduced to a much lower amount. He spoke cautiously, explaining that this was a very serious crime, commanding a large legal fee and, if successful, I would get a proportionate reward.
This was a most exciting assignment and my desire to make good surpassed even the thought of financial gain.
After receiving full instructions, I started on my delicate mission. It was a hot, sultry day, with much soot I the air. Fetid whiffs, as of burning garbage, from the famous slaughter-house ten or fifteen miles away, were sweeping over the slum area where I landed. I found myself in a crowd of Chinese, slithering around in their black tunics, pig tails, skull caps. I had never seen so many people of the Mongol race. Was it Chinatown? The setting was perfect for my mysterious, daring adventure.
It was nearly noon when I stopped in front of a saloon, corresponding to the address of my inquiry.
I enter boldly and order a glass of beer. I seem to be the only customer. The bartender is dark and burly, with handle-bar mustache, black hair parted in the middle and curled over the forehead, silent and scrutinizing. He is Italian beyond doubt. I slower wipe my perspiration and take a swallow of beer.
The I ask in Italian, almost casually:
“Some people were arrested here last night?”
“No, this is not the place.”
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“The American papers gave this address and made quite a fuss about it.”
“It’s a rooming house upstairs.”
“Quite a bail, fifty thousand dollars each!”
“Yes, they always take it on the Italians.”
Nonchalantly, I lay my card on the counter and continue:
“I am an Italian lawyer; I may be able to help.”
He looks at the card with a slight frown and exclaims:
“What? Are you with Charlie Ebstein?”
“Yes, I am.”
“He is a big shot.”
“He certainly is and he like the Italians. (!) Can I talk the matter over with someone?”
He X-rays me once more, casts a furtive glance to the far end of the bar and tells me to wait, while he disappears thought a small door. I sip my beer, with a feeling that progress is being made.
The bartender returns and invites me to go to the room in the rear. The room is rather dark, with small round tables. Standing there is a medium height, dark man, in shirt sleeves held by colorful tasseled garters, polka dot vest, festooned by a heavy gold chain and a flashy tie competing with a large horse-shoe diamond pin. He asks me in Italian with Sicilian accent:
“Have you had your dinner?”
“No, I have dinner at night.”
“I always have mine at the strike of noon.”
“I wish I could do it; but, being with Americans, I cannot.”
That apparently arouses his sympathy and, snapping open the engraved lid of a fat golden watch, he says:
“It is almost noon now. Can you eat?”
“I can eat at any time.”
“Will you be my guest?”
“With pleasure, thank you.”
I follow him into a backyard where, under a pergola covered with grape vines, are set a long rustic table and two benches. Seated are three…
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…men who salute with a half groan and invite me to sit down.
“Have a glass of wine. It’s good for the appetite.”
“I just had a glass of beer. I rather wait. Besides, I am hungry enough without any appetizer.”
I am asked my name but I do not ask theirs. I give my full pedigree and, when they hear that I am a law graduate from the University of Naples, their deference is surprising.
“You are very young.”
“Not so young, I am twenty-three.”
A fat woman, with oily black hair, deposit on the table a large platter of home made noodles, smothered with a thick layer of cheese and tomato sauce. The man on my right carves out and fills up a heaping plate for me and, in turn, each one fills his own. For several minutes only the sound of lapping-like dogs is heard; then there is a gradual pause and drinking of wine, with smacking of lips. Another platter is brought in with chicken “alla cacciatore,” for which we use the same dishes; then salad with strong red vinegar, fruit and black coffee served in demitasses. My commensals pour the coffee in the saucers and sip it from them.
I have done justice to the meal, but partaken of very little wine, with the apology that I am not used to drinking it in day time and that I have to report back to the office.
The man who had met me in the backroom, light a black, ropy cigar and speaks in low tone:
“What can your boss do?”
“He can do plenty. I know he can help you.”
“All lawyers say that. What about the bail?”
“I believe he can have it reduced to less than half, if you act quickly.”
“Charlie Ebstein is expensive.”
“But, he is good.”
“We know he is good, but he soaks a lot.”
“You don’t want a cheap doctor for a serious illness.”
“How much will he want?”
“It’s up to you to make a deal with him. You are smart fellows and I am only a beginner.”
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“Pretty good for a beginner. When can I see the boss?”
“This afternoon, if he will be in. Do you want me to telephone him?”
“Go ahead and see.”
“What will I tell him your name is?”
“Never mind my name. He will know me when he sees me.”
The appointment is made for the late afternoon. I take leave from my incognito hosts, thanking them profusely for the fine dinner. I am glad to be out in the open again, even if in the midst of cheerless orientals.
At the appointed time the apparent gang leader, whom I had not seen the previous day, comes in and no introduction is needed to Mr. Ebstin. They are behind closed doors for nearly an hour. Ebstein tells me that all arrangements have been made and that the “gentleman” is to return the following morning with a cash retainer of two thousand dollars, of which I would receive a certain percentage as, in his opinion, I had done a good job.
Now, I am going places. But, I shiver at the thought of having to mix with criminals and cut-throats of the worst type. Even Ebstein had jokingly said that some day he might “land with his clients.”
The gangster punctually returned and paid the agreed amount and…perhaps more. A few days later, the bail had been reduced to ten thousand dollars each and the accused were out. I never had any contact with any of them again.
With that hot potato out of my hands and more money to my name, I decided it was time for a short and much desired tip to New York. I asked Mr. Ebstein if I could leave for a week or ten days and, gladly granting my request, he offered to pay some of the commission. I told him that a little money would be welcome and that I would leave as soon as I had cleaned up a matter in connection with an automobile accident.
A street cleaner had suffered a lethal injury. An automobile, which in those days was a rather uncontrollable apparatus, had run into a hand-operated street-scraper and pushed the handle through the man’s abdomen. The automobile driver was well-to-do and there were several witnesses to prove that he was fumbling with the car. I went to see the…
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…patient, who happened to be from my Province, and after a couple of interviews, I secured his authority to have the Ebstein firm represent him. The poor man died shortly after.
Mr. Ebstein was highly pleased to have the case. When I left, he urged me to come back within the shortest possible time, as there was a great deal of work for me to do. He had taken a real liking to me and I had a great admiration for his ability and sense of humor. For my services in procuring the white slavery case, I expected a tangible remuneration, but my sponsor had claimed his share and Mr. Ebstein regretted to tell me that I could only get one-half, which I accepted thankfully. I was, of course, taken aback by my sponsor’s cutting in, without my knowledge.
Before leaving, I enrolled at one of the Chicago Law Schools, where I could complete the course in two years, credit being given for the Italian law degree.
I purchased a pretty little necklace for Marie, toys for Tina, Carolina and Rose. I also bought myself a moderate price dark blue suit. After allowing for the railroad fare to New York, I had a little more than a hundred dollars left, of which I again gave Mrs. Ferrari about thirty dollars. She and her husband had done much for me, even if things didn’t work out, and I wanted to reciprocate in as large a measure as possible. I didn’t tell them that, on my return to Chicago, I intended to room elsewhere, but they surmised it.
I don’t know how long the newspaper survived. Ferrari burned himself up and died in his early forties. At his death, the younger son had just entered Engineering School and I had the privilege of paying for the completion of his education. The older boy graduated in law and was appointed Assistant District Attorney. I have not heard from the Ferrari family in the last ten years or longer, but hope all is well with them.
Next: Chapter 34
