Saint Valentine's Day Massacre

He was happy that he, at least, had and could put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. He was happy that he wasn't blowing up safes anymore. He was happy that he had married Hattie. A great mother, a good wife, and his best friend, she was the right woman for him.

Hattie was making him his favorite meal for Valentine's Day, corn beef and cabbage. Maybe for once, she confessed to him, after they put the kids to bed, they could have some quiet time and listen to the radio together, one of her favorite things to do. There was a new radio show that had just started last month and she was mad for it, Amos and Andy. She thought it was so funny.

He had plans to stop at the florist to pick her up a bouquet of something pretty and at the candy store to buy her and the kids something sweet to eat. He had worked late last night to finished up working on the two cars that he needed to repair, before quitting early for the day tomorrow, Valentine's Day. It was only 10am, but Bugs didn't care when he came and when he left, so long as his cars were repaired and ready to go, when he needed them.

Unfortunately, John, didn't know that the Moran gang had gotten too cocky. As the years passed, Al Capone tired of hearing the same name interfering with jobs that he wanted to do and scores that he wanted to take down. Bugs had broken their gentleman's agreement and was infringing upon Capone's territory. Bugs was making him look bad and he had made the fatal mistake of underestimating the vindictiveness of the boss of the Italian mob.

Al Capone had put a target on the Bugs Moran gang. They were taking away some of his business. They had gotten too big for their shoes and they needed to taken them down to show everyone who was the boss. Capone wanted them extinguished and he put out a contract out for the job.

Only, John was out of that business now, had been for years. He felt safe working on the cars in the garage. He minded his own business. He minded his P's and Q's. He was a family man, now and he didn't steal anymore from nobody.

Things were heating up between his boss and Al Capone, but he wanted nothing to do with any of that. The closest he wanted to come to any of that funny business was reading it in the papers. That was their business and except for repairing Bugs's getaway cars, he was out of that lifestyle. Only, just as he was getting ready to go home early to celebrate Valentine's Day with his wife and kids, 4 men arrived at the SMC Cartage Company warehouse where he worked.

They were cops, two in uniform and two in plain clothes, one of them was Capone's man, Jack "Machine Gun" McGurn. Bug's men all thought they were cops. Capone's men had been watching the warehouse and waiting for Bugs to arrive. They mistook one of Bug's men for Bugs Moran. Bugs, a distance away, had delayed his arrival when he noticed the two sedans pull up to the warehouse. He figured they were cops, too. He didn't know they were Capone's men.

The four men lined all seven men up against the brick wall outside in the alley and the rest was history. The seven men figuring that the men were cops, no doubt, were used to be rousted by the police. Capone able to call in raids by making police payoffs, the police raids were his way of keeping the small time criminals in line. Only, this time Capone needed to make an example of these seven men.

The seven men expected to be arrested. They expected Bugs Moran to bail them out of jail. They never expected to be part of history and the seven victims of the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre.

John was worried. He didn't want to be arrested. He'd never make it home in time to celebrate Valentine's Day with his wife and children. Hattie would think he was out drinking with the boys, again. She had asked him to come home early. She had asked him not to be late. She told him she was making a special supper for him. She told him she wanted to cuddle with him, while listening to Amos and Andy on the radio. Now, he'd be locked up in jail, until Bugs could arrange bail, probably not until tomorrow when they'd go before the judge.

Maybe they'll allow him a phone call. Only, they didn't have a telephone. If he knew Mrs. Moran's telephone number across the hall, he could call her to tell Hattie that he had been arrested. She wouldn't be happy, but she'd understand that, rather than just not showing up until tomorrow. He was sick with worry and he didn't realize the worst of it until the bullets tore through his body. His last thoughts were of Hattie and his kids. His last thought was a happy one and he died a happy man.

The news tore around the neighborhood like wildfire. Before the police could even arrive, the neighborhood kids knew who the seven dead men were and had already notified their next of kin. The street was already full of a crowd of activity by the time the real police arrived to protect the crime scene.

Hattie heard the news and feared the worst. By the time she found someone to stay with the kids, by the time she arranged for her neighbor to give her a ride to the garage, she arrived to watch the coroner load her husband's body in his truck for the morgue. She was a widow and her children were orphans.

She had feared this would come one day, but not so soon. He had told her that he was out of that dirty business. He had promised her he'd never steal again. Now, her only concern were her children.

Married for fifteen years, John died at age thirty-five. He had been a loving husband and a good dad and she understood that he did what he needed to do to survive in an economy where no one was working. He paid the ultimate price with his life and now she was left alone to fend for herself.

It didn't hit her until she made it back to her small apartment that she was alone, alone for good with seven children. Who would want a widow with seven kids? What was she going to do now? Without a job, without someone to watch the kids while she worked, she couldn't even afford to live here anymore. They'd be out on the street by the end of the month. She'd have to bring the children to the orphanage.

Angry that he was dead, angry that she was left alone, she picked up the one thing that her husband loved, his grandmother's lamp and smashed it against the wall. Flying out like so much confetti thrown from Broadway in New York after the end of the first world war were one hundred dollar bills. There must have been ten thousand dollars, a fortune in 1929.

This must have been where Johnny hid the loot from the safes he cracked before going straight. She found his rainy day savings. Thankful for, at least, that much, this would keep a roof over her head, until she could come up with another plan. Maybe, she'd go west and move in with her sister and live on her farm. All she knew was that she'd never celebrate another Valentine's Day again.