Everybody loves the mob.

This story arrives based on memories of my people and their stories I heard growing up. Not everyone knows details and facts about the intersection of the Feds and the mob during prohibition in the USA.

One look at the photo above might cause you to believe the title: Tavern, tipped grey fedora, missing teeth, and two babushkas. But no, these folks are neither Italian nor mobsters. Another old photo, not shown here, suggests that a man in a trench coat at the end of the bar was a notorious mobster. I don’t know.

My grandfather’s story did however arise out of his personal experience during Prohibition. Imagine being the son of a weathered woman bar owner during that time! She’d lost two husbands when this photo was taken: One ran off and the other murdered. I think I have that right.

Upstairs of the bar there was a white porcelain bathtub, sink, and toilet. At some point the tub was used to make “bathtub beer”. You might think about how that came about. Right! The Feds came around and put a lock on the front door of the tavern. Perhaps a snitch told them about the booze sold from under the counter. Or maybe someone did not payoff the right person at the right time.

You can tell quite a bit about Augusta from her body language, her stance, shoulders, frame, and minimalist smile. She might have been called “a tough old broad” in her day. Her son “Johnny” stands all the way to the right with his hands on the young girl whose head is covered with that long white scarf or as I heard it described, a babushka.

One might easily assume that in 1929 on Chicago’s near west side, in a tavern, bar keepers had lots of strange relationships, experiences, and business dealings. They had to feed their families. The doors had to open and butts were needed on barstools.

When the bar shut down, Augusta told her son she had a very special job for him that day. She must have told him to take off his long white apron as he was washing the last of yesterday’s beer glasses, ashtrays, and whiskey glasses: a never ending tale up to that point. “Listen closely and do exactly as I tell you”, she said. She held a large brown envelope in her hand. He made one last long swipe at the water on the bar left over from cleaning, dried his hands, and layed the towel down on the bar. He looked at the thick envelope but did not look inside.

His instructions were clear: Take this envelope to the Federal Building downtown; fourteen blocks away. Go to the lobby, take the elevator down three floors below street level, follow signs to the men’s room, and go inside. Go directly to the first urinal closest to the door; do not pee.

Then his mother told him that someone would come along and tap him on his left shoulder. No words would be spoken. He was told firmly, “DO NOT TURN AROUND”. She repeated her instructions so there could be no mistake, no screw ups. There was too much at stake. She would do it herself if she could.

John made his way directly and quickly. He found the elevator and men’s room easily. Once there, as instructed he stood at the urinal with his zipper zipped. The expected “tap tap” arrived soon and without warning. Instinctively he turned around. As he did so, the illusive figure was already headed through the door. There was zero inclination on John’s part to follow. He froze in fear.

He made his way reluctantly back to his mother’s tavern. He feared her and the consequences. There was no question about the outcome of his slightly turned head. His hand shook as he opened the back door of the bar to report. He learned soon enough that she already knew the story. Almost as quickly, she instructed him to return to the same place. This time twice as much money lay inside the large brown envelope. It bulged with copious amounts of cash: Two thousand dollars!

John made the round trip one more time. This time successfully. When he returned to the bar this time, the lock was gone from the front door, the bar was open, customers drank their beers, and John felt safe again, if only for a moment. It took weeks for Augusta’s face to lose its scowl.