Shorts: A Collection

6. Kill-Devil City (Poem)

This poem has elements of fact regarding Chicago, the Prohibition era and certain gangsters named within.

I work as a waitress in an all day bar
As I have for the last few years,
Business is steady, the stores not far,
Countless breakfasts and even more beers.

The city I live in is big and bold
And its growth is exponential.
We thrive on every revenue sold
And many can feel its potential.

Yet despite the future of industrial promise
And a post-war world on the up
Chicago's rules are by its own office-
Every sin and vice is your daily cup.

I was one of the few who avoided the brothels
But many of my friends I lost to worse.
The homes here are worse than hovels
And every day ends in a hearse.

So on January 17th, 1920,
When Prohibition became the law,
Chicago prepared itself for plenty
And new opportunities opened their doors.

In the bar we removed the bottles
To underneath the counter-
It was a running joke that they always rattled
When the cops came in to banter.

The Anti-Saloon League, by now,
Were abused loudly by the regular clients.
"Dry future, clean living, new Christian vows,"
Were met with derision and defiance.

So when Mike, the owner, needed some hooch
He found a bathtub and put it to work.
Empty containers were soon put to use
And Mike brewed until his nostrils hurt.

By now some gangs had gotten the idea
And tried to shift their ware for a fee.
We bought a few barrels to keep the air clear
And sold enough to manage comfortably.

Occasionally we would have raids
From whole-heartedly and morally wet cops,
So we'd serve coffee and Coca-Cola for a few days
Then return to the grape and hops.

Then one day a smiling old man in a hat
Came in with a few other guys.
He wanted to use our room at the back,
It had its own exit and was good for supplies.

The old man returned since, with lots of men,
And they all enjoyed the bootleg drinks.
And so it was that Johnny Torrio was in our pen-
The crime boss of Chicago came here to think!

Everyone recognised Johnny- he owned the whole town,
From the police, the politicians to the estates.
In his respectable, calm way he condescended to come down,
To relax and of his own spoils partake.

"What is your name, my dear?" Johnny said.
"Molly," I answered with apprehension.
"Molly, I believe I have made your bar wet!"
They all laughed and gone was the tension.

Ours was a speak of good standards and name
And seldom had we any trouble.
Once a small gang broke our window panes
So Johnny's heavies made them struggle.

For several months after Johnny frequented our bar,
And I heard little snippets of gossip-
Things about ambush and hitmen and cars-
But I knew enough to keep strictly off it.

"Molly, my dear, could you do me a favour?
Mrs. Torrio would like a companion for shopping.
I've told her about you and she is eager
To meet you," said Johnny one morning.

How could I say no? He could have me killed.
"Mr. Torrio, it would be an honour."
So off I went to enjoy the spoils
With a gangster's wife, and a lack of valour.

Before I knew it I was part of the group,
One favour led to another until I knew too much.
I did jobs and went all around the Loop
Delivering letters, sweet-talking guys and selling hooch.

A woman in a gang is the perfect disguise
As nobody suspects the sweet, gentle girl,
Deception in the form of blonde curls and blue eyes,
Then with their guard down- exposed to the world.

Don't get me wrong, I never did anything serious,
My role was distractions and letters.
I resolutely remained away from the curious-
I knew what went on but found ignorance better.

But the one I never liked was Scarface Al;
More ruthless and efficient than his mentor,
Not as refined but strangely motivational
As if driven by an internal fever.

I remember 1923 as that year changed me full.
It was a time of more raids and fights;
Underdog gangs wanted their share of the pull,
Gangland executions happened every night.

Torrio was stamping on the O'Donnell clan
When two men burst, armed, into the bar.
Without thinking I pulled out a gun, and- BANG!-
Two bodies crashed down to the floor.

The locals in the bar then carried on talking
And I was panting and shocked and numb.
The gun in my hand was heavy and smoking-
I couldn't comprehend what I had done.

A second later Johnny came out of the back
And was dumbstruck for a while.
"Molly, I'm sorry they did the attack,
We'll clean it up," he said with a smile.

Twenty minutes later the two bodies were gone
And the floor as good as new.
I sat in the back room for who knows how long,
A whiskey in my left hand, in my right the .22.

"Molly, what you did was incredibly brave,
And for your courage I will protect
You and your family, for you nearly gave
Your life for mine, and I give you unending respect.

"You've shown your loyalty to the boys and myself,
But never again must you handle a gun.
It's not a life I want for you, but the best,
So tomorrow, take my money, your family and run."

I was still reeling and shaking in pain-
How could I live knowing that I'd killed?
But Johnny was willing to shoulder the blame:
"It was me who caused that blood to be spilled."

One of the guys made sure I got home safe
And I fell into a tortured, heavy sleep.
I was confused when I finally did wake
And, in a daze, went to the bar for my shift.

Mike looked me sadly in the eyes
And handed me a chunky brown package.
"Goodbye, Molly, and good luck," he sighed,
But I could tell he didn't blame me for the wreckage.

Forasmuch as I didn't want to leave Chicago
I knew who would be heir to Johnny's throne:
Would I live in fear just to stay in my home?
Could I trust the Devil, could I trust Capone?

So as I looked at the thousands of dollar bills
Torrio had given me as a penance,
I realised my heart could never be still
Until I left Chicago and left this menace.

The money more than covered my family's new life
And I got a job away from bars and vice.
I was forever haunted for that one night
But managed, somehow, to live normally at a price.

Al Capone was, years later, indicted;
Johnny Torrio had a heart attack in 1939;
Prohibition was also lifted
And many gangsters were punished for their crimes.

When it all began it was just a big joke,
But I'll never forget the lives I tore apart.
At night I still see that .22 smoke,
Saved, slightly, by the old man with a twisted heart.