Gangland didn’t exist in a complete vacuum. The “civilian world” provided a stage for gang dramas to play out on; but ordinary victims of crime were rarely shown. Members of law enforcement wandered in and out of the stories. But when gangland moved to the foreground, law enforcement got shunted to the background. Often it was treated as an annoyance; the police and the detectives — the “bulls” and the “dicks” — are mere hurdles on an obstacle course. The permanent existence of the gangs was taken for granted. “Gangster’s Revenge” (The Dragnet Magazine, December 1929), for example, treats the law with brazen disregard (quoted stories are included in this collection unless otherwise noted):
[Czar Rohan, chieftain of the west side] had had little to worry about from the law. [He] knew all the cops throughout his domain personally, and they knew of him and his activities. They recognized his power and let him alone.
On several occasions one or more of [Rohan’s] lieutenants had sought to rebel. Their fate had been certain and swift. Outraged citizens demanded that the law do something about bringing their murderers to justice. The police had protested that no hint had been given as to the identity of the killers.
They were right. None had been given. But they knew. The press knew. The average man in the street could guess. But nothing was done.
In “When China Jo Lost His Woman” (Gangster Stories, November 1929), our hero, Dude Jim, instigates murder and mayhem on a grand scale at the “chop suey dive” of his rival gang boss. China Jo. Dude’s object is Jo’s girl, the alluring Half-Breed Rose. The story ends with Dude triumphant:
They were all on the street. The gang scattered. Rose and Dude sauntered on down the block. Rose started a little as a cop rounded the corner.
“Evenin’, O’Neil.” Dude was casual.
“Evenin’, Dude. Livin’ peaceable?”
“Me? Sure! Just spendin’ a quiet evenin’ with the girl friend!”
And life goes on with the law blissfully oblivious.
Occasionally, law enforcement characters played a central role. But not as honest servants of society. They were either taking bribes, expropriating ill-gotten gains for personal enrichment, or looking the other way. They were, in essence, de facto gang associates, making law enforcement just another racket. In “Racketeer Wages” (The Dragnet Magazine, December 1929), Detective McCarthy walks a corrupt beat:
McCarthy swaggered over to Hardy’s table... He grinned at the racketeer. “Making the rounds. Hardy. Get me?”
“Sure, Mac. This baby never slips up on his payments.” With that Hardy again pulled out his heavy wallet, selected several crisp bills and passed them to the detective.
Pocketing the hush money, McCarthy rose to his feet. He refused Hardy’s offer to have a drink. “Not tonight, Hardy. If I took a glass at all the places I gotta stop tonight I’d be as pie-eyed as hell. S’long.”
Later, McCarthy, acquiescing to “Broadway racketeer” Hardy’s entreaty, is a willing accomplice to murder:
“Take it easy, Mac, it’s on the up and up. Now listen. In about an hour Tony is gonna take some Tommy guns and get a guy in a blue sedan up at the next corner. Never mind who the punk is. Let him shoot the guy. Then you and the two carloads of dicks jump Tony. Easy, ain’t it? You got the punk that was killed and the guy that did it. How’s it sound, Mac?”
“It’s a go, Hardy.”
Thus we have a broad outline of gangland, a dark, inverted fairy-tale world where crime is the law, and the law-keepers contribute to crime. But there are many other elements to the formula:
Not surprising, the typical setting was New York City, with Chicago coming second. Some stories played up rivalries between New York and Chicago gangs, like “The ‘Eyes’ Have It,” (Gangland Stories, August-September 1930), wherein the Chi Kid comes into New York and murders the “first lieutenant to [the] overlord of New York racketeers.” Sometimes the urban setting went unnamed. Outlying settings were infrequently used, such as the Bay Area, which was accurately described in “The Singing Kid” (Gangland Stories, November 1930). A common hybrid was the air-gang story (none of which are included here) which tapped into the incredible popularity of the air pulps. Examples include “Night Clubs of the Air” (Gangster Stories, December 1929) and “A Racket in the Clouds” (Racketeer Stories, June-July 1930).
One of the most glaring elements, since it conflicts with contemporary standards, is the treatment of ethnic groups. It becomes immediately apparent that there are few actual human beings in gangland. Instead, we get familiar stereotypes. One of the main gangs is Italian:
There were those who hinted that Italian Joe had framed Big Red Regan. The olive-skinned, oily haired wop and Big Regan had clashed on several occasions.
Another central group is the Irish, although they come off pretty well in descriptions. Red Regan, in “One Hour Before Dawn,” is “the big, good natured Irishman.” Chinese gangs — tongs — were popular in the pulps before and after the gang pulp era, and they get the expected condescension:
With all the oily, subtle grace of his race, China Cholly extended the hospitality of his house to Sadie when she called on him the following afternoon. At a clap of his hands, tea and rice cakes were served to them by a mute Oriental who bowed deferentially to the white woman.
China Cholly, grinning devilishly, swept forward with his villainous crew of Chinks.
Jewish characters make occasional appearances: Little Hymie Zeiss (“Rough on ‘Rats’ ”) (“Now when a Jew is tough and a bad egg — he’s just that. Wicked.”); and “Izzy the Yid over in Brooklyn” (“The ‘Eyes’ Have It”). Black characters appear seldom, typically in menial roles, e.g. “the nigger elevator boy” (“Guns of Gangland,” Gangster Stories, December 1929, not included).
Stereotypes were as likely to be found in descriptive passages as in dialogue, removing the defense that it was the characters speaking and not the authors themselves. In truth, it was the times talking.
The moll, the gangster’s girlfriend, or even crime partner, proves to be a major theme. Nearly all the stories feature them. Sometimes they were edgier than the men:
Floss O’Connor’s small white face was within an inch of his own. Gone now was the happy, careless girl that had been Big Red Regan’s moll. In her powdered face her eyes were dark as the night. Her nervous, highly polished fingers twitched. But her voice was low and well under control.
Shifty Al looked back at her with a sheepish grin. He could hold his own against a skirt’s temper, better than face that cold hard stare from her eyes. He looked her over slowly and critically. The emerald green dress she was wearing was a little shabby. But she had told him she had been against her luck lately. The dress didn’t matter anyway. Sal was about his speed — small, well-rounded, seductive. Devastating might have been the word used to describe her, but that word was not in Shifty’s vocabulary.
On the threshold stood a tall, beautifully dressed woman. She was clad in a tight fitting red velvet dress, that creased in soft folds as she entered the room. Marie was Dirk’s moll, his tiger moll as she was known, for she was tall and sinuous. Her walk was the cat-like gliding step of the denizen of the jungle. And she was like her ferocious namesake. She had a great love for her man, and an implacable hatred for her enemies.