Accardo was also a loving father, shielding his children from all exposure to publicity, and a charming host. Like Johnny Torrio and the murderous Genna brothers, Accardo was a devotee of classical music.
A rival who possessed a caustic wit remarked, when told of Accardo’s love of classical music, “Yeah, I know.” He pointed an imaginary machine gun and yelled, “Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!” Then shouted, “The bum wouldn’t know one opera from another. He thinks Verdi plays third base for the Cubs!”
How, where, and when did Tony Accardo rise to the position he has held for two decades? Accardo was born in Chicago of decent, honest, hard-working parents who were devoted to the church. He grew up in the West Side neighborhood, of the First Ward, a ghetto comprised of Old World Italians. On the periphery were whore houses, saloons, pool rooms, haunts frequented by pimps, thieves, robbers, hustlers of every kind, dope pushers, hoods, and floozies out to trade sex for a good time. A boy had to fight in order to keep from being maimed or killed in the neighborhood. Accardo could fight. Even in his teens he was big, hard, and rough and came by the adjective in front of his name honestly — Tough Tony Accardo.
At twenty, Accardo met Frank Nitti and Jack McGurn, Capone’s chief executioners. He asked Nitti for a job.
“What can you do?” Nitti asked.
“Whatever I’m told,” Accardo replied. “And can keep my mouth shut.” He grinned at Nitti and McGurn.
“Okay, come on. We’ll see what the Boss says.”
Standing in front of Capone in Al’s suite in the Lexington Hotel, Accardo was polite, courteous, but not deferential. A great deal of his imperiousness, as a matter of fact, showed even then. Capone was the one who was impressed.
“Tony Accardo, eh?” Capone said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Capone grunted. He was that age when he came to Chicago from New York to become Torrio’s bodyguard and from there rose up the ladder until he held Chicago’s underworld in the palm of his hand. He saw something of himself in the young man before him. He could, Capone thought prophetically, do exactly what I did. He grunted audibly.
Accardo said, “Did you say something?”
Capone shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That was only a kind of mental belch.” He took a cigar from a humidor on his desk and shoved it into his mouth. “You ever drive a truck?”
“No, but I can learn quick. I think I can drive anything that’s got wheels?”
“You think?”
“I know,” Accardo replied evenly and without a trace of ego in his tone. “All I want is a chance.”
“Okay, you got it. A C-note a week. No regular hours. You drive when you’re told, day or night. That okay with you?”
“That’s fine.”
Capone turned to Nitti. “Put him on. Give him a couple of C’s in front. He might need it.” He returned his attention to Accardo. “That’s a bonus for nothing. You may have to earn it a little later.”
“Sure, I understand.”
Capone nodded. “Yeah, I think you do. Okay, Frank will tell you what to do.”
“Mr. Capone,” Accardo said, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to be called Joe Batters. I been using that name.”
“Why?”
Accardo shrugged. “Maybe for the same reason you used Al Brown.”
Capone let out a short laugh. “Your family live here?”
“Yes, sir. Good people.”
“Okay. Joe Batters. Frank, Jack, meet Joe Batters.”
Nitti said, “All right, Joe, let’s go. I’ll introduce you to a nice big truck and we’ll see if you two can get along.”
Tony Accardo got along very well with the truck. He delivered barrels of beer to saloons and did it efficiently. He soon became the best driver in the gang and Al Capone began using him as a chauffeur at odd times.
Capone liked him. He learned that Accardo didn’t drink, did what he was told at all times, spoke only when he was spoken to, and answered all questions intelligently. Capone found that he could trust him and didn’t hesitate to talk about the most intimate workings of the Organization in his presence, information that could have sent Capone to prison for life or to the electric chair.
Accardo never betrayed his trust. It was this reputation for absolute trustworthiness that eventually took Accardo to the top. He has maintained this personal code of ethics to this very day. It is the one code the mobs respect and to which they pay homage. Its violation results in death, bloody and violent.
Accardo was given duties involving organization and again proved himself, his innate intelligence and quick comprehension of a problem or situation resulting in quick solutions. He was rewarded generously. He started to dress in tailor-made clothes, moved his family to a better neighborhood, married Clarice and fathered the first of his three children on whom he doted, spoiled with fatherly affection and gifts but held in line with a strict discipline. He had been taught to respect his parents and he carried that teaching over to his own children.
The Old World Italians as well as the first and second generation Italians in the New World carry on the tradition. Moreover, they are open and demonstrative in their affection. A son will not hesitate to kiss his father in public after returning from a trip. Family ties are strong. It is the basis of the strength of the Mafia. Members inter-marry. This brings brothers-in-law, sons-in-law, and, of course, cousins, first and, second, into the national alliance.
The list is too long to even begin to mention. Notable examples, of course, were Al Capone and his cousins the Fischettis, as well as Capone’s four brothers, John, Matt, Mimi, and Ralph. Also Jake Guzik and his brother Harry. The five Genna brothers. Detroit mobsters married the daughters of Buffalo, New York Mafiosi, and vice versa, as well as those from Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Chicago, St. Louis, and other cities. The Unione Siciliano kept them together.
The amazing rise of Tony Accardo to the position of boss of Chicago and a seat on the Inner Council of the Mafia is all the more astounding in its character because he had no ties family-wise with anyone in the hierarchy of the National Criminal Syndicate. Clarice even less. His appeal to the Grand Council lay in the fact that he could be trusted in every respect and that he would carry out any order given him by the council, come hell or high water.
Frank Nitti, on the other hand, was suspect, and rightly so. It was believed that he aided Frank J. Wilson, Chief of the United States Secret Service, in gathering evidence against Capone. Surely, he sent word to Nels Tessem and Jay Sullivan, two of Wilson’s agents, as to where they could locate Lou Shumway and Freddy Reis, the bookkeepers in Capone’s Cicero operations. Shumway was picked up in Miami and Reis in St. Louis. Their testimony helped convict Al Capone.
The Syndicate’s connections in the police department brought this information to Accardo.
“That’s impossible!” he said. “I won’t believe it.”
“You’d better believe it, Tony,” the detective told him, “It’s straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“Okay then, let me talk to the horse. I want it direct.”
The detective shrugged. “Sorry, Tony. That’s as far as I can go with you on this. Keep your eyes open, and don’t turn your back.”
With Capone in prison, Nitti took over the mob, on Capone’s order! Accardo figured that this move counter-acted the detective’s story of Nitti’s perfidy completely. Surely, if anyone would know whether or not he had been double-crossed Capone would be the first. However, the seed of suspicion that had been planted was like a small irritating ulcer in Accardo’s belly. He decided to watch Nitti closely in all of the mob’s dealings. He thought often of going to Paul “The Waiter” Ricca or Louis “Little New York” Campagna and tell them what he had been told but decided against it as being detrimental to his interests.