In the roaring chaos of 1920s America, Al Capone rose like a dark star, lighting up the underworld with his ruthless ambition and dangerous charm. But behind every bullet fired, every bribe handed, and every body buried, there stood a woman—Mae Capone. She was the silent, steadfast shadow at Scarface’s side, enduring betrayal, heartbreak, and the crushing weight of being married to the most feared man in the country. For nearly three decades, Mae navigated a life teetering on the edge of law and infamy, all while raising their only son and protecting the crumbling remnants of their empire. This is not just the tale of Al Capone’s rise and fall—it’s a story of unwavering love and resilience, of a woman who fought to keep her family together even as the world fell apart around her. So step into the smoky speakeasies and glitzy hideaways of America’s gangster era and see it all through the eyes of the one person who never betrayed him: Mrs. Al Capone.
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in the roaring chaos of 1920s America Al Capone rose like a dark star lighting up the underworld with his ruthless ambition and dangerous charm but behind every bullet fired every bribe handed and every body buried there stood a woman may Capone she was the silent steadfast shadow at Scarface’s side enduring betrayal heartbreak and the crushing weight of being married to the most feared man in the country for nearly three decades may navigated a life teetering on the edge of law and infamy all while raising their only son and protecting the crumbling remnants of their empire this is not just the tale of Al Capone’s rise and fall it’s a story of unwavering love and resilience of a woman who fought to keep her family together even as the world fell apart around her so step into the smoky speakeasies and glitzy hideaways of America’s gangster era and see it all through the eyes of the one person who never betrayed him Mrs Al Capone born on April 11th, 1897 in the working class crucible of Brooklyn New York Mary Josephine Coffin later known simply as may was one of seven children raised in a modest two story home at 1 17 third place the street sat just close enough to the docks for the air to carry the scent of fish salt water and violence the family lived a life anchored in decency her father a Mason was known for his piety and honesty her mother for her unwavering devotion to the children she shepherded through a neighborhood where fist fights were routine and futures uncertain may grew into a striking teenager tall slim with high cheekbones and intelligent brown eyes that sparkled with promise locals imagined her one day gracing stages or magazine covers but life as it often does had other plans a pronounced overbite and receding chin perhaps a minor imperfection in another context crippled her confidence the mirror did not flatter and the camera was no friend may shrank from public gaze and dreams of acting or modelling dissolved quietly into the backdrop of her shy demeanour and then came Al they met in 1918 in an illicit club on Carroll Street a speakeasy thinly disguised as a legitimate business the war had just ended and returning soldiers were desperate to drown their memories in gin and jazz behind curtain storefronts the night pulsed with forbidden pleasure cards shuffled bootlegged liquor flowed and every corner offered someone to dance with or something to forget Alfons Capone not yet infamous was among the shadows he too bore a scar that shaped him not just emotionally but quite literally a year earlier while working as a waiter at the Harvard Inn on Coney Island Capone’s mouth never known for tact landed him in a maelstrom he aimed a crude compliment at a passing Italian beauty honey you have a nice behind let me pay you that compliment he slurred she happened to be the sister of an underworld enforcer and this gallantry was rewarded not with a phone number but a blade the gangster slashed Capone across the face carving deep furrows into his left cheek and neck gruesome souvenirs from an ego outpaced by impulse from then on Al showed only his right side the good side he Learned to weaponize charm as a distraction from disfigurement loud talk a big grin and ice blue eyes mask the scars that newspapers and history would never forget that night the world was introduced to Scarface a moniker he loathed born from a moment of drunken bravado that introduced him to both violence and notoriety in one swift stroke and so in the dim light of an illegal bar two damaged souls one hiding her smile the other hiding his face found each other drawn together not by perfection but by the art of concealment Al Capone’s story begins in quieter despair his parents Gabriele Capone and Teresina Riola hailed from Angri a sun baked town in Italy’s impoverished Salerno province Gabriele hustled through life’s bottom rungs grocery clerk pasta maker lithographer never staying long in one trade never rising above survival Teresina a devout Catholic and skilled seamstress shared his poverty and his hopes when she became pregnant with their second child the couple made a choice common among the desperate they turned their eyes westward America the Promised Land or so the steamship brochures claimed by 1894 they had arrived in Brooklyn two children in tow and a third on the way Gabriele managed to open a barbershop and eventually became a naturalized citizen an achievement that offered their growing brood of nine children a shot at something better than bare survival but young Alphonse born in 1899 wanted none of it the idea of earning an honest living of bending to teachers or clerics seemed laughable to him he left parochial school at 14 not with a diploma but after punching a teacher the family had moved to 21 Garfield Place but the new address changed nothing in 1920 Gabriele died taking with him whatever fragile structure had kept Al tethered to the respectable world authority meant nothing to him now the streets beckoned and he followed without a father without faith in the system Al found a different kind of family one bound not by love but by silence and the thrill of the forbidden the man who opened the door was Johnny Torrio a local racketeer who ran the numbers game and a handful of gambling dens Toreo needed a kid who could run errands keep his mouth shut and swing a bat if necessary Alphonse fit the Bill he was soon caught up in the ethnic underworld turf wars Italians versus the Irish White Hand gang the violence was relentless efficient and usually unpunished Between 1915 and 1925 100 men vanished or bled out in alleys their cases left to rot in police files May Coffin entered his life like a sudden shift in key she was two years older 21 when they met and worked as a salesgirl her manner was calm almost unnervingly so she didn’t flinch she didn’t talk much and crucially she was Irish at the turn of the century such a pairing was almost scandalous Italians and Irish were historic rivals in the American melting pot neighbors in the slums enemies in the alleys many Irish women were drawn to Italian men’s early almost desperate eagerness to marry the Irish boys by contrast often sidestepped matrimony like a pothole Italian men on the other hand saw Irish women as the ideal obedient devout indifferent to the business of their husbands Al’s mentor Torrio had married an Irish woman Anna and he seemed content for Capone this felt like destiny dressed as romance may with her poise and cool demeanor seemed to soothe the violent tempo of his life she spoke softly she didn’t pry she was in his own words a sweet little Irish girl who took me for better or for worse at just 19 Al Capone was still more boy than man a volatile cocktail of charm and bravado still living with his mother Teresina on Garfield Place just a short walk from the more reserved respectable world of May Coffin May’s parents weren’t thrilled in the social ladder of early 20th century Brooklyn Italians were not seen as an aspirational match for the Irish quite the opposite among Irish families Italian husbands had a reputation that was half myth half cautionary tale they were said to be quick with their fists Liberal with the bottle and serially unfaithful marrying an Irish woman may have been a social promotion for an Italian man for an Irish girl it was often seen as a descent but scandal has a way of burning through prejudice in April May became pregnant still underage Al had to ask his parents for permission to marry but the clock didn’t wait for consent on December 4th, 1918 May gave birth to Albert Francis Capone Sonny whose godfather was none other than Johnny Torrio the gangster who was quickly becoming more family than family in a deeply Catholic community a child born outside wedlock wasn’t just gossip it was a transgression the pressure came fast and hard Capone secured a dispensation from the church to bypass the traditional bans and a wedding was hastily arranged for December 30th both lied on the paperwork may shaved off a year Al added one three weeks after giving birth may stood at the altar of Saint Mary Star of the sea the Capone family’s church the ceremony was meant to seal a union but it also spotlighted division the families speaking different languages and holding tight to Old World mistrust could barely mask their disdain Irish guests watched may vanish into the Capone clan like a ship swallowed by foreign waters she was no longer one of them yet may ever stoic accepted this shift with a quiet dignity she had given birth to what she saw as a miracle child and that was enough whatever storm followed she would endure it for him sunny became her axis her devotion total almost blinding Al for his part suddenly found himself with a mission that didn’t involve street corners or brass knuckles he wanted to give may everything she’d lost by marrying him and give sunny everything he never had what do I want my son Albert to become when he grows up he once mused a man a brave man who can look everyone in the eye a man with nerves even if he’s on the wrong side of the gun it was a father’s wish wrapped in contradiction a hope for integrity shadowed by a life that offered none Al wanted sunny to attend university to be a doctor a lawyer a man of stature not a bootlegger not a thug certainly not his father he wanted the boy to know the world’s beauty not just its back alleys and most of all he wanted him to have what he’d found in may a woman who could turn any hand no matter how cursed into a winning one but what a man wants and what life delivers are rarely the same thing especially for a man like Al Capone despite his vows his dreams and his borrowed words of love Al still can’t give may the life he believes she deserves night after night he slips out of the house leaving may alone with their infant son he doesn’t go to work in any traditional sense instead he dresses like royalty on loan tailored suits that shimmer under low lights slicked back thinning brown hair a chubby face always curved into a charming smile he plays the host in backroom clubs heavy with cigar smoke and perfume greeting gamblers and gangsters alike drawing them in with jokes drinks and empty promises then a window cracks open Johnny Torrio his mentor and now the godfather of his child announces a move to Chicago The East Coast battered by law enforcement and intergang chaos is no longer fertile ground Chicago Torio claims is untamed unwatched a city where empires could be born Al doesn’t hesitate he follows by the summer of 1923 Alan May are no longer just a young couple with a baby they’re homeowners their new house at 7 2 4 4 South Prairie Avenue a red brick two story structure in a sunny tidy neighborhood feels like a fresh start the street bustles with life corner stores vegetable stalls bursting with color and a pace far gentler than Brooklyn’s grit for the first time they owned something the house cost $15,000 with Al paying three quarters in cash the remaining $4,000 alone co signed by his mother Teresa who of course comes along for the move security comes first Al installs thick iron bars on the windows and reinforces the front door with a wrought iron grill outside it looks like a slice of the American dream inside it resembles an Italian fortress loud crowded and perpetually simmering may tries to craft a home from the chaos but privacy is a luxury rarely afforded to gangland royalty the house overflows with Capone’s Ralph Bottles who handles the bottling operation and Frank whose specialty is silence permanent silence while Al prefers to bribe or bargain Frank has a simpler solution a dead man never talks then there’s James a walking contradiction who served in World War 1 and now works against bootleggers and of course Teresa the indomitable matriarch who reigns from the first floor speaking only Italian but understanding everything may quiet and reserved is overwhelmed in this thick stew of dialects bravado and blood ties she barely registers how does one assert herself among a dozen capones the kitchen a sacred space in any Italian household is not hers may sits at the edge of the maelstrom a ghost with a wedding ring watching a family perform its unbreakable unity its fortress of food language and noise while she drifts just outside its walls her miracle child coos upstairs her husband dines with his brothers and the house the promised life groans under the weight of dreams deferred make a pone increasingly adrift in her own home chooses quiet exile over competition while the kitchen buzzes with the Capone women’s synchronized ballet of chopping frying and shouting may prefers the solitude of her room there she tends to sunny the child who has become her entire universe or buries herself in books educational science equine anatomy anything that offers escape downstairs the men smoke drink and play setty medzo an Italian card game that sounds more romantic than it is a game of half smiles and full wallets while garlic meatballs and brasiole simmer under Teresa’s iron rule she’s the one who tells Al to sit down and clean his plate recalled the crime boss’s niece years later Teresa wasn’t just the cook she was the general running a household where grown men carried guns meant wielding a ladle like a saber may still an outsider fetched flour and sugar from neighbours when Theresa barked orders rarely a please in sight the family’s women formed a matriarchal wall around Al and may had not yet and might never breach it these women didn’t ask questions didn’t complain when the women of the clan want to talk someone once said they’re told to be quiet and mind their business they barely saw their husbands how impolite it would be to interrogate them during those brief appearances between killings so may played her part descending in time for the meal clearing plates in silence then withdrawing back to her room as card games and gossip bloomed over Annie set and smirks she left the laughter behind and returned to her books the only space where she could still call something her own but the world outside would not remain quiet politics as always muddied everything in 1923 William Deaver was elected mayor of Chicago riding a wave of moralistic reform and promising to enforce prohibition with iron resolve the Capone Torio alliance responded the only way gangsters know how they moved the battlefield if Chicago didn’t want them they would build an empire in Cicero a low light suburb to the west and bring Chicago’s pleasures to them brothels casinos cabarets the rot would find its audience power of course required Protection the plan was simple take over Cicero politically install a friendly face as mayor rule from the shadows on April 1st, 1924 Frank Capone took charge of the election campaign not with pamphlets and promises but with shotguns and machine guns Frank always the soldier orchestrated a full blown intimidation campaign voters were reminded that their safety hinged on the correct choice polling stations were flanked by men with cold eyes and hot barrels one opponent’s campaign office was stormed his assistant shot in the legs and taken hostage with eight others until the poles closed it was democracy but with a warning label police now forced to act sent 70 plainclothes officers to the field a midday shootout erupted in the streets of Cicero Frank mistaking the lawmen for a Northside ambush squad reached for his weapon the police responded with a dozen bullets Frank Capone enforcer brother was left dead on the pavement by sundown Joseph Clencher the Capone candidate had won the election justice meanwhile was not on the ballot a few public officials were kidnapped in retaliation just in case anyone missed the message the Capones might lose a man but they never lose a war on April 4th, 1924 the modest red brick house on South Prairie Avenue became a theater of grief May Capone quiet and dutiful was thrust into the role of hostess to a funeral fit for a statesman her brother in law Frank lay in a silver plated coffin and the mourning was not optional Al determined to immortalize his brother spent $20,000 on flowers buying them from none other than his rival Dean O’bannon in a rare moment of gangster civility O’bannon obliged sending his most opulent arrangements a funeral procession of 150 cars snaked its way to Mount Carmel Cemetery a parade of death and Defiance for two hours all of Cicero’s dens of sin went dark by Owl’s decree if he wept so would the entire city he demanded a collective grief the kind that echoes not just through streets but through history inside the house grief took a quieter form Teresa was inconsolable the Capone brothers seethed their mourning mixed with rage may caught in the center of this maelstrom clung to sunny like a life raft she offered no grand displays no threats of vengeance only whispered prayers and the hope that the violence would for once exhaust itself but the blood would not stop spilling in November 1924 Dino Banyon was assassinated in his flower shop his own elegant bouquets drenched in irony and gunpowder just weeks later in early 1925 Johnny Torrio Al’s mentor and guiding hand was gunned down outside his home though he survived the attack cracked the illusion of invincibility that surrounded him al already haunted by the deaths of his father and brother unraveled further losing Torio would be unthinkable while Johnny recovered Al practically lived at his bedside may was once again left alone in her own home a familiar pattern yet no less isolating within a week Johnny was up thanks to careful nursing and the firm presence of his wife Anna but something essential had changed he’s no longer Torio the terrible the crime boss’s near fatal wounds have exposed a deadly truth he’s mortal and in the underworld once blood has been spilled it’s only a matter of time before the vultures circle on February 9th, 1925 fearing another attempt on Torio’s life al arranged for a quiet escape through the hospital’s back exit Johnny was hustled into a waiting sedan and smuggled to court where he paid a 5 thousand dollar fine and stoically accepted a nine month sentence at Lake County Jail in Waukegan it was less punishment than sabbatical the local sheriff happy to oblige let Anna transform the cell into something closer to a luxury suite in came the brass bed plush rugs chairs curtains even a gramophone and radio while his wounds healed the couple played house behind bars and Anna with time and privacy on her side began to press Johnny to retire for good when Torio’s sentence ended he didn’t return to power he vanished escorted by armed guards in two cars Johnny and Anna slipped away in an armoured limousine to a remote train station just south of the Indiana border owl’s men weapons drawn secured the area until the train departed from there the couple embarked on a final journey not of conquest but of escape New Orleans Havana the Bahamas Palm Beach and finally Italy Johnny Torrio retired at 43 a man who had built empires in shadows but chose exile over martyrdom he left behind a crown and Al Capone was ready to wear it with Dino Banyon six feet under and Johnny Torrio riding gondolas in Italy Alphonse Capone took the crown he’d been circling for years he was now the undisputed ruler of Chicago’s underworld a city with as many corpses as cops and one where bullets often wrote the by laws power like that does strange things to a man it sparks introspection laced with justification the kind that sounds less like remorse and more like a philosophical alibi what does a man think about when he kills another man in a gang war maybe about God’s idea of self defense maybe it’s just killing the guy who’d kill you first or defending your business your family there are worse guys out there than me one wonders if Mrs Capone quietly folding laundry while her son battles an infection that could end his life finds these musings anything but hollow at home the real war was against illness sunny now 7 had always been fragile he was his mother’s joy and terror rolled into one the beloved child with a persistent ear infection that medicine could no longer soothe doctors many of them all said the same thing surgery was the only way but it came with a brutal catch if it worked it might save him but it would almost certainly cost him his hearing may and Al clutched hope like a lifeline they turned to New York to the office of Doctor Lloyd at Saint Nicholas Place Al with desperation disguised as generosity threw out a figure 100,000 if you save him the actual cost $1,000 but in fear love loses count on Christmas Eve the boy was taken into surgery may the mother prayed without pause her prayers found mercy sunny survived he would hear the world not all of it but enough thanks to a new and miraculous invention the hearing aid exhausted but relieved the doctors advised may and Al to rest and so with her blessing Al went out to unwind at the Adonis Social Club on 20th Street in Brooklyn a speakeasy where Italians and Irish drank side by side sometimes in peace often on the edge of war that edge snapped the White Hand gang Irish rivals clinging to fading influence stumbled into the club drunk and looking for blood they hurled slurs and baited the Italians with venom Al’s crew held their peace but then came the women Irish girls with Italian fiancés and one gang member sneered come back and taste white men for God’s sake that was the spark the lights died chaos bloomed when the lights flickered back on the floor was sticky with the blood of three Irishmen and several Italians the police arrived to find a room full of amnesiacs no one saw anything no one knew anyone Capone was arrested my wife told me to go said it would do me good he told the cops we barely walked in when six guys rushed us they started shooting two of my friends were killed one got hit in the leg I spent Christmas in jail it was a holiday no one would forget may had her son alive but permanently changed Al sat behind bars caught in another gang war dressed up as a night out and though may clung to her son with the same devotion she always had something inside her knew she could no longer pretend the storm was outside it was in the halls of her home it had stained her Christmas but sunny would live and that for May Capone was enough how could may not forgive him when Al wasn’t behind bars or behind lies he could be undeniably the kind of man a woman might cling to for sanity charming attentive absurdly generous every year like a crime world Chris Kringle he turned up at Matilda’s private school in a chauffeur slay of stolen goodwill wearing a fine felt hat and a custom suit more suited to a Senate hearing than a schoolyard he distributed baskets brimming with candy and gifts to ecstatic children even the teachers weren’t forgotten smiles bought with cigars and boxes of sweets more effective than any bribe slipped in an envelope in that moment suspicion evaporated no one ever interrogates generosity to the neighbours he was a mystery wrapped in a pleasant smile calling himself a furniture dealer no one really believed him but they didn’t need to Al in his bathrobe and slippers tossing a ball to sunny in the yard or stirring sauce in the kitchen with a glass of chianti in hand was the embodiment of domestic ease he replaced may at the stove kissed her on the cheek and played the loving husband so well even she believed the act but the apron masked an empire since Torrio’s retreat Al Capone had become not just the head of the Chicago syndicate he had become Chicago every police raid whispered his name every vice ridden dive every corpse in the alley bore his signature yet he was nowhere the man was a shadow with a smile meanwhile at 2,135 South Michigan Avenue in the gaudy heart of the New Lexington Hotel Al ran the city like a CEO of sin three entire floors were his the fourth floor suite 5:30 was his command post below it the war room above his inner sanctum the room of vice it came complete with a restaurant a ballroom a cinema and a reinforced vault for when diplomacy failed the decor was as loud as his legend gilded walls blood red accents a chandelier like a weaponized opera prop and his initials AC etched into the oak floor like a royal crest the bathroom Nile green tiles with purple flourishes because why stop at bad taste when you can charge through it capone lounged in silk pajamas and hosted soirees where politicians gangsters and entertainers dined and drank while bodyguards sealed off every exit when he wished to eat in private meals arrived on silver trolleys and each dish was vetted by his staff as though betrayal might be baked into the pasta he was a king and Chicago was his court when not dialing lawyers or accountants he vacationed in Miami bet horses at Hyalaya or set sail in the Caribbean for business or pleasure Al enjoyed the company of men for drinking and swearing but he enjoyed the company of women even more sometimes he vanished for days the reasons were never questioned yet when he returned he returned to may she got the kiss the embrace the illusion of loyalty the others shadowy flings in speakeasies and sweets would never be photographed never be mentioned may was the only woman allowed to be seen beside the king of Chicago and she wore that title like a crown made of silence the queen it must be said rarely graced the throne room May Capone seldom set foot in the Lexington hotel suite where her husband reigned supreme the sight of bodyguards draped in trench coats with machine guns concealed under their arms unsettled her this wasn’t home it was a war bunker with a mini bar but while may stayed away other women did not one a voluptuous blonde from a suburban brothel known as the Greek became a familiar face if only behind locked doors and whispered entrances one day the Greek complained of aches in places polite company didn’t mention al ever the provider sent her to his private physician a man paid $85,000 a year to keep patients alive and secrets buried the diagnosis was swift and ancient syphilis that medieval scourge of artists soldiers and libertines was back and no less vicious it could kill a child before birth leave a woman sterile or rot a brain from the inside out treatment meant injections of arsenimin an arsenic compound that offered false hope in a world of incurable disease the doctor piecing together the obvious biblical connection between his patient and his patron gently suggested that Mr Capone undergo testing but the king of Chicago who stared down rivals cops and judges trembled at the thought of a hypodermic needle he could face Thompson guns without blinking but not a syringe he felt fine he insisted and besides what was a little arsenic between lovers when not presiding from the Lexington Al took refuge at the Hawthorn Inn in Cicero the fortified heart of his empire’s second capital the mansion at 16 South Austin Boulevard with its steel doors tunnel connected garage and 8 foot high privacy wall looked less like a house and more like a militarized estate inside it was more of the same liquor laughter and the constant shuffling of men with secrets in their pockets to reporters Al played the weary patriarch the double life was exhausting he said the cat and mouse games between Chicago and Cicero were wearing him thin straining his time with may he saw her only four or five times a week now that alone he suggested was punishment enough but what grated more than exile was image the newspapers those meddlesome myth makers had crowned him Scarface a nickname he loathed he preferred the Big Fellow a title that sounded more affable less carved in blood he used his charm as camouflage a way to erase the jagged scar lines and lull strangers into forgetting the violence that trailed him like smoke and may what did she make of this man who needed to seduce every room he entered be it full of cops crooks or cool girls no one really knows one associate offered this either she was too smart to complain or too scared to speak all she knew was that her husband sold fruit or had a flower shop or maybe ran a butcher store that was it among men who built their kingdoms on loyalty and silence women were cloaked in a different kind of invisibility no one asked about their bruises visible or otherwise yet no matter how far Al strayed he always returned to may and he always tried in his way to soothe the sting of betrayal as if a kiss on the forehead could erase the lipstick on his collar his kingdom was built on lies but his home was a shrine to appearances and in that shrine may reigned not as partner but as patron saint silent dignified and untouched by the sins that paid the bills in the spring of 1927 Al Capone the most feared man in Chicago retreated not to a fortress but to Hot Springs Arkansas the spa town famed for its mineral waters and scenic Serenity offered Capone a temporary sanctuary from the city that both fed him and hunted him he arrived as always dressed for the part double breasted dark suit tie knotted tight felt hat tilted just right next to him may posed dutifully for photos as they toured the springs like just another middle class couple on holiday one snapshot captures them in a donkey drawn carriage in front of the aptly named Merry Hole the donkey looks exhausted may resigned al content by day Capone soaked in hot baths played golf and enjoyed the genteel trappings of bourgeois bliss by night the mask came off he gambled with reckless abandon $50,000 in one night $58,000 the next this wasn’t recreation it was a ritual his golf partner wasn’t may but Vincent Drucci the new head of the North Side gang and a man who’d once tried to kill him Drucci the schemer was no lightweight born in 1898 he’d served in the Navy during World War 1 before graduating to petty crime then full fledged bootlegging his daring eyes and thick eyebrows masked a ruthless ambition he’d been part of the ambush that killed Capone’s driver and had helped orchestrate the attack that nearly ended Johnny Torrio his presence in Hot Springs was no coincidence while Capone lounged politics roared in Chicago the upcoming mayoral election loomed large capone still stinging from Democrat William Devers crackdown was all in for Republican William Hale Big Bill Thompson a man more amenable to organized vice with Thompson having won the first round on February 22nd Al wisely kept out of the crossfire awaiting the April 5th showdown Drucci however saw Capone’s Rural Retreat as an opening he smuggled an arsenal into hot Springs shotguns automatics enough firepower to start a war on March 14th, 1927 in what was considered neutral territory in the underworld a city where no gangster was supposed to be armed he tried to kill Capone in broad daylight but once again May’s quiet prayers won the day Al walked away untouched Drucci disappeared no one spoke silence after all was the foundation of their world good enemies made good business Capone’s outfit nicknamed for their sharp suits and sharper operations was now estimated by federal prosecutors to pull in $105 million a year that level of wealth didn’t just fund palaces it bought silence Protection and immunity but silence ended on April 4th Drucci in a final act of chaos was caught vandalizing a polling station on the Eve of the runoff election Chicago turned into an armed camp 5,000 police bombed candidate headquarters and snipers atop rooftops dragged to court by an officer who gripped him too hard Drucci fought back handcuffed and livid he hurled insults the cop responded with a fist Drucci resisted the officer drew his gun the schemer was shot in the leg stomach and arm he collapsed his ambition bleeding out on the courtroom floor in true mob fashion Drucci’s funeral was a spectacle $10,000 for a silver plated coffin $30,000 in flowers piled so high they drowned the Spabarro funeral home and a procession that stretched like a royal wake he joined Dino Banyon at Mount Carmel Cemetery interred with all the pomp crime could buy Capone didn’t attend but he had already won with Drucey gone and Big Bill Thompson elected mayor the next day Al Capone wasn’t just the king in exile he was the emperor returning to his throne and business once again was booming after surviving assassination attempts election turmoil and yet another blood soaked chapter of gangland drama Al Capone decided he’d had enough at least for now in December 1927 he whisked may away on a clandestine vacation to recover from the chaos choosing sea air over smoke filled back rooms on December 8th flanked by two loyal bodyguards the couple quietly boarded a train but before vanishing into the rails Capone staged one final scene his version of a public farewell standing before journalists in a Chicago hotel he delivered a monologue half confession half threat 90% of the people in Chicago drink and gamble I’ve just tried to give them good booze and honest games and how am I thanked I’ve spent the best years of my life as a public benefactor and now I live like a hunted man then came the sarcasm polished and sharp they call me a killer fine I’m leaving I suppose now the murders will stop no more alcohol no more craps or roulette let the fine citizens of Chicago find their own liquor I’m tired of this job capone was bidding adieu to Chicago like a jilted lover the irony wasn’t subtle and the bitterness lingered a woman in England wrote me today even there they think I’m a gorilla she offered to pay for my trip to London if I’d kill her neighbors then his exit line meant to sound noble almost sacrificial my wife and my mother have heard enough you might as well all become drunkards may took it as a turning point a romantic gesture from a man desperate for redemption escaping the chill of Chicago and the ghosts of gang wars past this wasn’t just a vacation it was a declaration they were going to start fresh somewhere far from bullet casings and betrayal he told the world they were heading to Saint Petersburg Florida but Al Capone master of misdirection didn’t board a train south he went west to Los Angeles it took reporters days to track them by the time the truth surfaced the capones had checked into the lavish Biltmore Hotel under the name Al Brown the Renaissance style palace in the heart of downtown LA was all marble fountains crystal chandeliers frescoes and carved ceilings a gilded echo of Italy that thrilled Al for may it felt like a dream they toured movie studios Al delighted played the guide pointing out celebrity mansions as if he belonged there they journeyed to Tijuana for the horse races a perfect treat for may who loved riding but their anonymity didn’t last Scarface’s shadow traveled faster than the train soon word spread protesters appeared the city stirred with unease Barely 24 hours after their arrival the Biltmore’s manager polite but firm asked the couple to leave may packed in silence as the guards outside their suite kept watch tense and ready the illusion of a peaceful escape dissolved under the weight of notoriety was this how it would always be no matter where they ran would Al’s past knock louder than any hotel concierge may had dreamed of a husband on vacation what she had was a fugitive on tour the illusion of luxury tourism shattered within hours Los Angeles made one thing unmistakably clear it had no room for Al Capone on December 15th, 1927 the city’s top cop Chief James Davis delivered the message himself blunt unambiguous and cold as steel you are not welcome here he wasn’t bluffing Davis personally dispatched officers to assist with the Capone’s abrupt departure may visibly shaken packed while uniformed men stood in her suite like polite executioners no red carpet no fanfare just an escort to the Santa Fe train station Al always the showman couldn’t resist the stage we’re tourists I thought you guys liked tourists he quipped to reporters I’ve got money made in Chicago to spend here who ever heard of someone being kicked out of Los Angeles with cash in their pocket it was classic Capone playing the misunderstood gentleman a mobster with manners and it worked even the journalists who once cursed his name now scribbled his parting words with a smile but Al’s instincts sharpened by betrayal and blood twitched before boarding he called Ralph his ever watchful brother who confirmed a chilling rumour Chicago police were waiting at the next stop capone changed their plans in an instant the train would halt at Joliet Ralph would meet them with a car for a quiet return home the ruse didn’t hold on December 16th, 1927 as the train rolled into Joliet police swarmed five bodyguards were seized Al tried to flee dragging may in one hand his revolver in the other an unusual detail for a man who rarely carried weapons himself another bodyguard cleared a path but officers quickly closed in Al Capone was arrested for the first time on a charge that might finally stick illegal possession of a firearm may stood frozen her husband yanked from her side and booked like a common thug the pedestal she’d placed him on began to crumble she had always seen him as invincible untouchable by law protected by power now he sat behind bars in a cell with two vagrants reduced to just another inmate the shame clung to her like smoke what would she tell sunny what would people say may was released and allowed to return to Chicago alone the image of Al sitting on a stained bench next to two filthy strangers haunted her the entire journey for his part Al didn’t suffer fools or smells lightly he offered to pay the vagrant’s bail not out of kindness but because their odor offended him it’s certainly a lesson teaching me not to carry a revolver with me in Joliet he said with that same defiant grin that drove judges mad and journalists wild the judge was predictably unamused but as far as local law was concerned if Capone’s crimes happened outside his district they were somebody else’s problem scarface had been caged if only briefly back in Chicago May Capone lived with the gnawing dread that her husband’s invincibility had finally cracked Al’s short stint in jail had shifted something fundamental the king of crime had for a brief moment been caged and the world had noticed to her this wasn’t just a hiccup in his legend it was a warning the outfit’s obscene profits had painted a target not only on Al’s back but across his empire envy had turned allies into informants and worse Capone with his love for headlines and tailored arrogance couldn’t resist the lure of the limelight but crime cannot thrive under flash bulbs notoriety invites scrutiny and scrutiny draws knives by January in 1928 the couple was planning their next escape not from lawman but from fate this time Al beat the press to it in Miami where the sun was hot and the politics cooler he arrived as both fugitive and philanthropist the climate in Miami is healthier than Chicago’s warmer than California’s that’s why I’m here he told a gaggle of reporters right outside the police station his first stop upon stepping off the train dressed in crisp blue pleated trousers hands in pockets he looked more like a man hunting for a golf course than fleeing prosecution I love Miami so much I’m staying here all winter just waiting for my wife mother and son they’re arriving this afternoon we’re planning to buy a house the line might have been funny had it not been delivered on the precinct steps but Al knew how to play the game by preemptively checking in with the police he outmaneuvered them no raids no headlines just a criminal with a very sunny excuse May Sunny and Mama Capone joined him soon after they rented a seaside bungalow for $2,500 for the season may strolled with sunny freely unbothered by tailing detectives the sea air warm and anonymous gave her back a freedom she hadn’t tasted since Brooklyn but paradise doesn’t come without whispers the bungalow’s owner was horrified to learn that the genteel Browns were actually the capones she expected wild parties machine guns under mattresses and mobsters swimming in gin what she got instead was a house cleaner than when it had been rented adorned with porcelain silverware and a few bottles of wine left like parting gifts then came the phone Bill hundreds of dollars in long distance calls to Chicago rage turned to opportunity she was ready to complain to the press but before she could a Cadillac Cunningham rolled up to her door out stepped a slim sun kissed blonde I’m Mrs Capone said the soft voice she handed over $1,000 keep the change we may have broken a few things this should cover it scandal averted the coast had worked its magic the capones weren’t just vacationing they were relocating Al fell for a neoclassical gem at 93 palm Avenue on Palm Island a man made slice of paradise floating in Biscayne Bay the house built in 1922 by a beer magnate how poetic boasted white stucco a green tiled roof mosaic patios a private dock and 14 bedrooms capone agreed to buy it for $40,000 paying in four annual installments at 8% interest even the mayor lent a hand but true to form Al left no paper trail no license no deed no account just whispers and winks his survival depended on vanishing in plain sight he had traded the bitter winds of Chicago for the illusion of peace and for may that illusion however thin was worth everything on April 4th, 1928 the deed to 93 palm Avenue was filed not under the name of the most feared gangster in America but under his wife’s May Capone in one clean stroke of penmanship and legal sleight of hand became the official owner of a fortified island palace cloaked in subtropical calm and 2.5 meter concrete walls built not for privacy but survival for Al the walls were Protection from machine gun fire for may they marked the border between chaos and sanctuary inside may began transforming the fortress into her own Versailles her first move aesthetic diplomacy she ordered the construction of a Lily pond with an arched bridge a nod to Monet’s Serenity not her husband’s notoriety a mosaic tiled pool one of the largest on the Florida coast shimmered beneath the palms complete with a two story changing Pavilion while Al secured the perimeter may claimed the soul of the house she chose curtains brass light fixtures and Art Deco flourishes shopping became a compulsion a freedom she had long been denied under the shadow of Teresa and Mafalda and the local merchants were only too happy to feed the fantasy cash flowed as easily as the wine in Al’s cellar but the capones didn’t come to integrate when they entertained it was strictly on their terms a few close friends some potential allies to the surprise of their guests revolutionary hardware submachine guns rested alongside rococo armchairs may now accustomed to grandeur still grimaced at the presence of those gorillas trailing them through town Al played the affable host for Sunny’s birthday 50 classmates descended upon the island estate the gangster’s mansion decked in balloons and streamers became a wonderland children splashed in the enormous pool everyone except sunny who couldn’t swim may watched like a lifeguard and a mother hen urging the others not to leave her boy behind the feast fried chicken cakes soda simple Americana soaked in irony permission slips had been required the Godfather after all knew liability Al slipped comfortably into his roles as doting father and attentive husband may watched him beam on his new speedboat the Sea Wind whipping his slicked back hair may now fully in command of her domain moved with the ease of a society matron no in laws to overshadow her no mob wives to obey she was chauffeur driven in a gleaming blue Cadillac served by a household of black staff in the segregationist south her dream life had arrived gilded and guarded but Florida like Chicago does not suffer illusions for long the peace shattered when the deed signed in her name surfaced in public records the press pounced so much for discretion the arrangement sparked scandal the mayor who had quietly facilitated Capone’s acquisition found himself hounded outrage spread the Capones who would aim for anonymity were once again infamous May’s paradise her private Trianon now lay under siege not by bullets this time but by headlines as 1928 gave way to 1929 May Capone clung desperately to the last threads of peace on Palm Island five police officers now trailed her husband’s every step ordered by a city council eager to be rid of him but back in Chicago a reckoning brewed on March 12th, 1929 Capone was ordered to testify before a grand jury investigating the Valentine’s Day Massacre the bloodbath that left seven men dead and police stunned it was a chance to corner Scarface at last but his lawyers produced a convenient illness bronchopneumonia allegedly contracted in Miami had left him bedridden for over a month the judge showed mercy Al was resummoned for March 20th but federal agents smelled deceit they tracked his footprints from the horse tracks of Miami to sun drenched outings in the Bimini Islands in Nassau he’d been gallivanting across the tropics with a vitality that mocked his forged sick bed if he skipped the second summons they would come for him finally it seemed the walls were closing in capone however returned to Chicago with his usual flair he appeared on March 20th then again on March 27th testifying and walking free despite their conviction federal prosecutors had no evidence linking him to the massacre frustrated they changed their angle as he left the courtroom federal agents pounced the charge contempt of court a technicality tiny in comparison to his actual crimes but with teeth one year in prison one thousand dollar fine Al never wanted to carry just a few bucks Cooley dropped $5,000 on the desk and strolled out but the hunt had begun that May Capone attended what would become the founding moment of the modern American underworld the Atlantic City Conference forty of the most powerful gangsters in the country convened in secret not to exchange pleasantries but to forge a Mafia federation the syndicate Jewish Irish Italian and American mobs agreed to unite against their common enemy the US government after the summit he and his bodyguards headed toward New York somewhere south of Camden New Jersey their car broke down stranded they caught a movie at the Stanley Theater in Philadelphia while waiting for a train at eight fifteen PM as the lights came on two local officers spotted Capone and moved in Al in typical deadpan greeted them good evening I have a gun on me so did his bodyguard Frankie Rio that was enough brought immediately before a judge Capone met a man immune to charm or fear authorities in some cities may fear you but not in Philadelphia Al Capone Philadelphia isn’t afraid of you and neither am I you’re a killer my only regret is that you’re not here on charges that would allow me to rid this country of you the gavel dropped with a 35 thousand dollar bail steep even for Scarface he whistled in admiration at last someone had assigned him a price tag worthy of the myth with just $30 in his pocket the man who once commanded Chicago like a medieval lord was forced to spend the night in a Philadelphia jail by morning he was before the judge again still standing tall still smiling well this is what I call a city they work fast here he joked his tone balancing on the knife edge between Defiance and admiration to the press he projected confidence bordering on theatrical arrogance I’ll be cleared he told them no charge has ever been brought against me that hasn’t been quashed but when investigators pressed him why the gun the tone shifted I’m a target he replied more subdued I’m under death threat that’s why Philadelphia’s justice system didn’t blink for once Capone’s charm failed him he was sentenced to a year in prison for carrying a concealed weapon a sentence that rocked the country the myth had finally been sentenced but Al Capone wasn’t broken if anything he was relieved I’m like any other man he confided to the assistant prosecutor I’ve been in the racket long enough to know that a man in my position sometimes needs to rest from the misfortunes of war he spoke of the killings the paranoia the relentless tension Atlantic City he admitted hadn’t been a pleasure trip he’d registered under a false name to avoid being gunned down by rivals the violence never stopped even Paradise came with crosshairs once you’re in the Mafia he muttered you’re in it forever in Capone’s mind prison wasn’t a punishment it was a sabbatical a calculated withdrawal from a battlefield that had become dangerously volatile he handed a diamond ring to the assistant prosecutor and asked him to send it to Ralph in case he didn’t survive prison and with that the man who built an empire on fear walked quietly into confinement the next morning’s headlines buzzed with speculation had Capone chosen prison had he accepted protective custody disguised as punishment would the government finally break him back at 7 2 4 4 South Prairie Avenue the Capone women staged a media blitz but one voice was missing maze from Florida where she and sunny had remained until the scandal broke maze spoke with a kind of disoriented disbelief owl never goes to prison why would he want to he loves talking about Europe about Palm Beach about boxing not prison she hadn’t even known about Atlantic City or Philadelphia the last time they’d been together was in Chicago after Miami he’d said he was going away for a while but not where and not why she hadn’t asked now everything was upside down may had endured years of late nights and vague answers but this al behind bars truly held away from her was a foreign horror Joliet had been a blip charges in New York and Chicago whispers of murder and bootlegging trifles but this this was real and it shook her faith in the one certainty she had always clung to that Al Capone no matter how much blood stained his empire was untouchable for the first time May Capone’s silence broke the shy Irish woman so long defined by restraint and discretion stepped out of the shadows not as a gangster’s wife but as a mother America’s Mrs Scarface now spoke directly to the nation and not with Defiance but with heartbreak their son sunny just 11 came home crying each day mocked by classmates for being the child of a murderer it’s more than he can bear it’s more than I can bear she told the press his heart is broken and he doesn’t understand I’m a real mother and I suffer with him can anything be done it was not a legal plea it was maternal anguish a desperate attempt to show the country that behind Al Capone’s shadow loomed a woman and a child bruised by the spotlight joined by Teresa and Mafalda May even found the courage to visit Al at Homesburg Penitentiary ready to uproot her life to stay near him but the cruel arithmetic of prison life allowed only one visit per month mail could arrive endlessly but replies were rationed two per month even Scarface had to bow to the bureaucracy still Al had no intention of serving his sentence quietly he offered a 50 thousand dollar reward to any lawyer who could spring him the worst part is the constant reminder that I’m in prison he told anyone who’d listen the less I say the faster they’ll forget but the man who once made himself unforgettable could no longer disappear desperation paranoia and indignation bled from his jail cell I just want to visit my wife and my son he cried I feel very very bad I’ve never done anything wrong I’m going back to Chicago no one can stop me unless they shoot me in the head by August the government quietly moved him to the imposing Eastern State Penitentiary a medieval fortress of turrets and thick stone walls the real reason assassination threats there were whispers that enemies inside Homesburg were planning to finish what Chicago rivals had failed to do but may wasn’t told all she knew was that she could now visit more often inside Eastern State Al shed the gangster armour for something closer to comfort he donned the standard issue canvas blue but his cell told another story rugs oil paintings a polished wood desk and an upholstered armchair turned his prison into a private suite he read Napoleon’s biography and played the part of philosopher king behind bars at Christmas he donated food baskets and bought raffle tickets for charity even in confinement Al Capone understood optics on March 17th, 1930 at the Little Florence Restaurant the king returned he greeted guests with theatrical cheer make yourselves comfortable the others will be here soon his release for good behavior was more than a homecoming it was a coronation at 31 Al Capone had faced prison stared it down and walked out with his legend intact the Celebration blurred the lines between intimacy and intimidation two hundred guests filled a banquet hall transformed into a single long table lined with white linen silverware and flower arrangements in a back room a hidden speakeasy poured champagne and contraband beer then came the Capone women Teresa May and Mafalda entered arm in arm a triumphant procession of power and matriarchy the contrast between the two matriarchs Neapolitan and Irish was striking Theresa Dark round smiling sparkled with diamonds may pale and slender said little her greying hair betrayed the toll of years spent in fear she smiled but her eyes never left owl and when he asked for more champagne she grimaced he laughed she smiled again but the worry in her face never left she feared rightly that this banquet might be short lived the police were waiting upon his release the chief of police made it clear Capone was no longer welcome in Chicago stay and he’d be arrested again days later Miami police raided his Palm Island villa seizing every bottle they found in Chicago over 300 men suspected of being tied to Capone were rounded up some armed to the teeth others merely loyal the empire was cracking the shadow had grown too large and may who once believed her husband could never be caged now watched as his kingdom was hunted from all sides her Trianon her sanctuary was no longer safe the man she adored was still dancing but the music she feared was coming to an end the night of March 17th, 1930 closed not with a bang but with quiet Al Capone having dined with 200 guests and basked in the glow of apparent impunity retreated to his Lexington hotel suite there within the comfort of thick walls and loyal men he sat with may the silent queen beside the scarred king the next morning Capone welcomed a journalist an audience he craved as much as he manipulated he wasn’t a killer he insisted just a businessman my only crime he said with theatrical solemnity was selling beer and whiskey to very respectable people it was the same script polished over years not a gangster not a murderer just a man responding to supply and demand when asked about his arrest in Philadelphia he rolled his eyes not for carrying a gun but because my name is Capone I’ve never been charged before why would I be then pivoting he reached for every man’s morality if your brother or father were in trouble would you sit there and twiddle your thumbs he pressed a button a door opened ask my wife and sister to come in the journalist heart racing expected to meet myth what she saw were two women one tall slim silent may the other short round radiant Mafalda they smiled politely and left behind scraps of blue silk details the journalist clutched at in lieu of scandal capone always the showman redirected her gaze did you notice my wife’s hair she’s only 28 and it’s grey because of worry because of this business because of him outside Chicago was being methodically purged if Capone could not be imprisoned he could be suffocated his name was no longer just a target it was the bullseye but may didn’t know what was coming not yet in the White House President Herbert Hoover had long lost patience Chicago’s blood ran too freely Capone’s wealth was now estimated at $75 million his influence unmatched the law failed the witnesses vanished the bullets never missed but if his empire was built on money then money would be the key it is ironic Hoover remarked that a man guilty of hundreds of murders should be punished simply for failing to comply with tax laws and so a new war began not of guns but of ledgers to carry out this financial crusade the Bureau of investigation turned to Alexander Jamie who pointed to a young man still living with his parents earning $2,800 a year his son in law Elliot Ness ness was no gangster clean cut soft spoken with a middle part and a degree in economics he looked more like a bank teller than a bounty hunter but beneath the Boy Scout exterior was resolve honed in raids and barroom brawls on September 28th, 1929 Ness received his marching orders destroy the Capone machine from the inside out not with bullets but with paperwork he was given carte Blanche to assemble a team outsiders incorruptible unsuede by cash or fear most would be under 30 none would be married the mission would consume them in a city where one third of prohibition agents had already sold their loyalty to Capone Ness would build something new a brotherhood immune to bribery a small unbreakable unit they would become legend but to Al Capone they would become something worse they would become a threat he could not buy Eliot Ness the untouchable face of the government’s war against Al Capone had broken his own rule before the battle had even begun in Defiance of his directive to remain single free of the distractions and vulnerabilities that love brings he married Edna Staley his high school sweetheart their romance bloomed quietly away from the grit of raids and wiretaps in the soft lit corridors of her secretarial job at Alexander Jamie’s office within months he proposed over dinner in a grand Chicago restaurant on her 23rd birthday the marriage humble and civil was not meant to be a political act but it would become one their life was quaint even idyllic opera on the radio Conan Doyle on the floor six cats prowling the modest Cleveland villa Ness the man who would try to tear down the criminal colossus of Chicago spent his nights not polishing pistols but sharing poetry for Edna this was the dream security literature weekends by Lake Erie and dinners at the Vogue Room but dreams collapse quickly under the weight of a public war March 17th, 1930 while Scarface holds court at Little Florence Elliot Ness is preparing for war Capone’s empire of breweries bullets and blood must fall and Ness’s squad handpicked and incorruptible is ready to strike capone responds the only way he knows how with money a quiet intermediary approaches Ness with an envelope two 1,000 dollar bills and a weekly promise of more if he just looks the other way for Capone it’s business as usual for Ness it’s a declaration of war tell them that ness cannot be bought he roars not for $2,000 a week not for $10,000 not for $100,000 not for all the money that has ever passed through their greasy hands but incorruptibility is not invincibility wiretaps confirm the inevitable Capone has put a target on Ness the outfit plots not to bribe him but to bury him ness acts fast Edna his love his mistake is moved to a secure hotel south of the city with armed guards and six bewildered cats the comfort of bourgeois life is shattered Edna like may before her becomes a prisoner of her husband’s enemies one night Ness makes the error of reaching for a normal life he picks her up takes her to dinner and drive drives into the countryside behind them headlights emerge relentless a tail he weaves through back roads avoiding speed and sudden moves terrified of a stray bullet but chivalry clashes with war Edna sensing the strangeness of their endless drive questions him he lies he must when she safely back at the hotel he readies himself moments later the tail draws close a shot cracks the night air ness floors the gas swerves returns fire another shot another miss the shadows vanish but the message remains they could have taken him or worse her and it escalates dynamite under his car’s exhaust threats by phone letters soaked in menace the outfit doesn’t just want him gone they want him broken Ness holds but Edna does not the strain twists her nerves like wire she retreats mentally and physically back to Cleveland the public wife disappears the incorruptible man remains but the cost of his purity is written on his wife’s silence fuelled by adversity and determined to win the battle for public opinion Eliot Ness intensified his campaign against Capone’s bootlegging strongholds targeting those so well fortified they were believed to be untouchable in March 1931 he launched one of his boldest offensives intelligence had revealed that Al Capone was hiding a significant brewery at 16 32 south Cicero Avenue at dawn a column of black sedans snake through the snow covered streets leading them a truck in the passenger seat wearing a leather helmet like a football player preparing for war sat Ness himself the plan was as brutal as it was symbolic if the doors would not open they would be shattered Ness raised his hand the driver floored the accelerator with a deafening roar of metal wood and rubber the truck crashed into Capone’s kingdom smashing through its barricades later Ness went one step further he turned confiscated evidence into a pageant of humiliation beer barrels Capone’s liquid gold were loaded onto trucks and paraded through the streets of Chicago ness never missing a theatrical opportunity called the Lexington Hotel personally that morning asked for Capone and advised him to look out the window at precisely 11:00am every truck gleamed like a showroom model the Untouchables rode in the lead car followed by vehicles seized from Capone’s own fleet it was warfare by humiliation a victory parade designed to crush Scarface’s pride and it worked as the trucks rolled by Al Capone erupted into a fury so wild that his own men had to restrain him Ness had struck deep not just into the heart of Capone’s empire but into the fragile ego of the man himself but in grinding down the gangster Ness had also ground down his marriage his obsession became Edna’s torment their home a quiet cottage at Bay Village on Lake Erie was an hour from Cleveland and Ness’s 16 hour days meant he was rarely there the quiet weekends the walks among other people’s children each moment reminded Edna of what she didn’t have she longed for a child and the ache of that emptiness grew unbearable arguments became routine the emotional chasm widened eventually Elliot left he gave the press a tidy soundbite it was a mutual decision we both realized a mistake had been made and decided to correct it but Edna was shattered she would never remarry she would keep his name she had loved him too deeply to let go in spirit even after he was gone in flesh the man who symbolized moral clarity and prohibition purity had in the privacy of his own life started drinking meanwhile hundreds of kilometers away May Capone and Edna Staley were bound by an invisible thread of silent suffering both had lost peace both were casualties of men locked in a war with no victors where Edna gave up may clung on perhaps because her love for sunny was the glue that kept her world from collapsing and then came the death knell the US government in a masterstroke of bureaucratic vengeance officially named Al Capone Public Enemy No. 1 the first man in the country to receive the title the label was not just a legal formality it was a declaration of war his empire had begun to buckle under the weight of relentless raids rising paranoia and a trail of tax forms finally being read with the scrutiny they deserved May Capone reading the morning papers found her Hair Whiter by the second the New York Times headline said it all capone indicted for tax fraud her husband was accused of defrauding the federal government of $215,080 and trafficking in alcohol in open Defiance of prohibition the indictment was backed by a two year investigation every detail of Capone’s income between 1924 and 1929 laid bare line by incriminating line the walls were closing in the pressure now insurmountable began cracking the silence of the outfit Capone’s own men sensing the tide turning began flipping to save themselves Ralph Capone his brother and trusted lieutenant had just been sentenced to three years for the same crime a public warning that loyalty had an expiration date with no more options Al turned himself into the city marshal flanked by his lawyer he posted $50,000 bail walked out of the station and stepped into history not as the invincible king of vice but as a man finally summoned to account for the empire he built on blood beer and silence the next day June 7th, 1931 Palm Island no longer feels like a tropical haven but a battlefield the sheriff raids the Capone residence and in front of a stunned Mae seizes the furniture her prized possessions handpicked to make a home not a fortress a lawyer is demanding $50,000 in unpaid fees from her husband but since Capone keeps his fortune as well hidden as a buried body the government grants permission for direct seizure in the sacred codes of the underworld family was always off limits no longer the message couldn’t be clearer the gloves are off even may and sunny are fair game now Capone’s code is dead a new one rules scorched earth on June 17th, 1931 in a courtroom presided over by Judge James Herbert Wilkerson Al Capone pleads guilty his lawyers hope for a deal three years tops a white collar punishment for a blood soaked empire his appearance dressed in a sulfur colored suit becomes a symbolic moment in Eliot Ness’s Crusade a visual of surrender or so it seems two weeks later on June 30th Capone wrings one last delay from the court just one more month to be near his ailing son the trial is now set for October 6th Sympathy like bribery is a currency capone knows how to spend that morning Al wakes at 7:45 in his suite at the Lexington Hotel he showers shaves and dresses in a tailored blue suit may and sunny flown in from Miami a present but the lawyers decide may should stay behind not because she lacks loyalty because she lacks stage presence too timid too pale under the flash bulbs her sadness sincere and bottomless would be a liability she stays behind watching the man she married walk alone into history until now Capone had worn a mask of Serenity but he knew the game had changed they want a show he said bitterly with tricks and drama tears and screams it’s absurd no man my age could have done all they say I did I’m a ghost a ghost invented by a million minds outside the courthouse a circus awaits 40 police officers form a cordon spectators pack the streets journalists jostle for position they all want a glimpse of Public Enemy No. 1 Capone cool as ever lights a cigar and enters the courthouse like it’s opening night on Broadway his footsteps echo in the marble halls of Judge Wilkinson’s court ancient columns frame the stage he wears a suit so sharp it could be a weapon white pocket square gold chain strung with diamonds a brown and white tie he smiles faintly he still believes charm might save him each day of the trial he changes suits like armour a pin stripe on sombre becomes the talk of the courtroom the fashion show is closely watched not for style but for symbolism every fabric every stitch screams money at a time when money is poison the prosecution barely had to lift a finger the jury steeped in hardship needed only to hear that Mrs Capone had paid $6,000 in cash for a swimming pool and garage no less in their Miami winter palace Mister Capone they claimed had paid over $3,000 just for telephone calls in 1929 yes he had donated $15,600 to the church and another $58,000 to the Police widows and Orphans Fund but who cares about strategic philanthropy when all you can smell is excess the nation’s tolerance for vice had rotted away now they wanted blood on October 24th, 1931 two years to the day after Wall Street’s collapse the jury rendered its verdict nine hours of deliberation sealed Capone’s fate in the dead of night a messenger arrived at his Lexington hotel suite he dressed in a dark purple suit white Fedora and matching pocket square may and sunny were by his side her heart pounded at 10:00am the sentence came 11 years in prison owl’s face darkened swallowed by shadow his hands clenched involuntarily the hit was brutal but Scarface refused to crumble no tantrum no collapse he held the pose and then one final insult as he exited the courtroom dazed a man shoved a document into his hands a request for two mortgages on their Miami estate one in his name the other maze the government was moving to claim every last cent she would not be allowed to sell the home the money trail had to stay frozen Capone stunned exploded he spat obscenities at the man tried to kick him onlookers recoiled the press pounced he turned to the reporters voice laced with venom and prophecy it is truly a shame to disappoint the public he said bitterness dripping to destroy one of its popular myths then he looks beyond himself to a crumbling country it’s going to be a terrible winter he warned America is on the verge of its greatest social upheaval the camera shutters clicked hunting the image of the century Capone in chains but the gangster paused softening please he pleaded think of my family don’t take my picture like this the reporters respected his wish all but one Al lunged for a bucket of water and hurled it howling I’m going to tear you apart guards intervened just in time Cook County Prison America’s latest fortress of law and order waited for its most infamous guest towering over 390,000 square meters it housed 9,000 souls a marvel of steel and concrete immune supposedly to break out or corruption it’s Warden David Moneypenny crowed in the papers no one escapes no one gets favors but even iron walls have cracks Mae Kapone walked those echoing corridors Sunny’s hand in hers she passed the rows of cells her elegance stark against the backdrop of concrete and despair she stopped at one inside Al had reclaimed his kingdom he’d brought the Lexington with him lampshades Art Deco furniture rugs a radio paintings he even put up Christmas garlands an angel crowned the tree in the cell’s corner may and sunny settled in Al had dinner brought in and arranged for a black butler to serve them if the world was determined to call him a villain then he would dine like royalty behind bars since his incarceration on October 24th Scarface has been anything but anonymous behind bars the state may have sentenced him but Cook County Prison treated him like a guest of honor albeit one locked in a cell a generously sized one no less perched on the fifth floor in a secluded wing that houses just a dozen inmates while the rest of the prison groans under the weight of overcrowding the gangster turned prisoner continues to feast like a free man every day may sends meals from her kitchen steaming stews buttered bread kidneys hot enough to melt steel the scent alone could start a riot on the lower floors may for her part isn’t forgotten either weekly deliveries arrive like clockwork envelopes stuffed with cash courtesy of the outfit’s unspoken pension plan for the Mafia’s first lady $25,000 a year blood money neatly packaged to ensure she lives in dignity while her husband remains behind bars it is hush money honor money survival money but tonight no amount of cash or imported furnishings can soften May’s first Christmas in prison the walls are adorned with garlands the table set the butler waiting but something’s broken Al has always been by her side the last man to allow harm to even brush her sleeve now she sits in a cell wrapped in holiday cheer and dread there’s a glimmer of hope the lawyers have petitioned the Supreme Court one last appeal stands between her and despair from his cell turned command center Al still rules the telegraph hums phone lines buzz orders are issued and carried out he may be caged but the outfit continues to breathe under his control and since the boss can’t go to the streets the streets come to him foot traffic through the prison reaches absurd levels Warden David Moneypenny who once promised a corruption free sanctuary of steel now seems to have discovered that even principles can be monetized just two days before Christmas on December 22nd the same Moneypenny was spotted pushing a 16 cylinder Cadillac to its limits on the road between Springfield and Chicago he pushed too hard the engine blew when the mechanic pride opened the hood and checked the paperwork the name on the ownership record left him slack jawed May Capone the man did what any honest citizen might do he called the authorities but the story vanished silenced one assumes that in return for a little indulgence in prison protocol Al’s meals continued to arrive piping hot a Mafia twist on oil for food a small comfort in a life now ruled by concrete and clocks on Christmas Eve the cell glows with soft light business is not discussed in front of the women and they are arriving now among them Louise Rolf infamously known as the blonde alibi her arm threaded through that of Jack Mcgaurn the man suspected of orchestrating the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre since that bloodbath they’ve lived beneath a magnifying glass every cabaret dance every whispered laugh every sequin on her dress scrutinized by the press their public disgrace reached new lows earlier that year when on May 25th, 1931 they stood trial for fornication and prostitution their defense was awkwardly quaint they were not criminal lovers just lovers she was not for sale he was not a pimp the trouble was Jack was still married his wife Helena had filed for divorce but the ink wasn’t dry and in a courtroom of moralists an unmarried woman sharing a bed with a married man is enough to trigger chains and cells with trial looming and prosecutors sharpening their blades salvation came on the wings of paperwork on May 2nd, 1931 the divorce went through a miracle the very next day before the ink on one certificate had even dried Jack married Louise proof of love perhaps but definitely proof of legal strategy love had no time to wait not when facing jail time and so they sit in Al’s cell guests at a strange macabre holiday gathering there are lights and laughter and the illusion of peace but make no mistake the world is closing in on May 3rd, 1931 Jack Mcgaurn and Louise Rolf stood before a judge in Waukegan Illinois one hour later they emerged as man and wife for Louise the scene echoed a past escapade this was the same town where she’d once eloped with Harold Boakes before she was even legally allowed to marry but those were different times different men Jack was her one true love or so she believed love however was no defense against the full machinery of American justice while Jack’s legal fate hung in the balance Christmas Eve 1931 turned sour for May Capone an anonymous telegram had landed on the Bureau of investigations desk accusing Scarface of hosting whiskey fueled parties in his prison cell and even entertaining visits from prostitutes arranged by a pimp named Bon Bon the government launched an investigation Moneypenny the ever cunning prison director denied everything no women had visited Capone besides his family he insisted yes his wife sent meals twice daily but was that a crime to the department of justice it was all the proof they needed Capone was flaunting the law even from behind bars pressure mounted from Washington the White House had had enough Capone had to go not to another wing but to another prison entirely a federal facility one with real locks real solitude and no sympathetic wardens but until the Supreme Court ruled on Capone’s appeal nothing could be done that ruling came on February 29th, 1932 without so much as a footnote the appeal was rejected the sentence stood 11 years no more lifelines May’s world shattered there would be no return home no miracle verdict just bars and time she sent Al a telegram that barely held back the flood Dear Al I am so sorry that the case has failed there is always hope so endure this ordeal I will always think of you and pray to have you with us sunny and me very soon love and good luck your wife days later another darkness crept across America on March 1st, 1932 Charles Lindbergh’s twenty month old son was stolen from his crib the man who had once flown across the Atlantic now faced a horror that no wings could outrun this was not mob vengeance not a political feud this was something worse The Great Depression had birthed a new kind of predator the kidnapper to the starving and desperate the wealthy were no longer idols they were targets Al Capone from his plush cell in Cook County summoned a journalist he had a message for the nation it’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard in my life he said visibly shaken how would Mrs Capone and I feel if our son were kidnapped he offered $10,000 for information leading to the baby’s safe return but he didn’t stop there I can do far more than anyone on earth to find this baby he boasted I had nothing to do with it I can prove that but I’m certain a Mafia did it if I’m right everyone knows I can change the course of things then came the real play he offered to post $250,000 bail and even proposed substituting one of his brothers in prison in his place in exchange all he asked for was a presidential pardon the press erupted was America so broken that its salvation rested on the shoulders of its most infamous criminal Charles Lindbergh reached out to the Treasury if Capone was genuine he said he’d support the proposal the White House considered it briefly but President Hoover was unmoved there would be no deal two months later the baby’s corpse was found America grieved and raged and the face of that rage for many was not the killer it was the gangster Capone’s reign was over the man who had once run Chicago like a private empire was now preparing for his transfer to Atlanta Georgia to a fortress like penitentiary where Scarface would be just another number in Atlanta the velvet gloves came off the haircut alone a mere millimeters worth was a humiliation the tailored suits were swapped for a standard issue uniform and the criminal who once dined on lobster now spent eight hours a day making shoes after a failed attempt to relive his baseball glory Al took up tennis less American dream more solitary confinement with a racket visits were few half an hour once every 15 days foreign languages were forbidden Teresa Capone barely speaking English sat tongue tied on the visitor’s side of a long cold table forced to string together scraps of a language she’d never needed may and sunny faithful to the last visited monthly in return Al sent telegrams birthdays holidays he never missed one for Mother’s Day he composed a poem the rhyme might not have graced the pages of Keats but it throbbed with sincerity there is a special day for mothers among all the days of the year and I want to express my gratitude to someone precious and dear and wish all the joy and happiness to the sweetest woman my wife because you are part of Mother’s Day and the biggest part of my life he ended it with a flourish of love a note to may as time goes on I realize the debt I owe you my gratitude keeps growing my love for you is deeper and stronger god bless you and I love you all your dear husband Al touching until it surfaced that the same poem word for word was also mailed to his mother the gangster’s version of a hallmark BOGO prison transforms men Al the playboy overlord became Alphonse the wistful husband distance breaks the flimsy bonds of vice but strengthens the steel chains of devotion and devotion was all he had he shared his cell with Morris Rusty Rudensky a Jewish ex bagel thief turned gangland legend who once served both Al and his enemies in the Northside gang now locked up and shackled by the state Morris found freedom through writing and urged Al to pick up the pen for a man who ran empires writing a simple letter was torture good god Rusty I’m having a hard time writing a letter the pencil feels like it weighs a ton he was barely into his 30s yet he carried himself like a relic his obsession became the life he’d left behind May Sunny home he begged the prison warden over something deeply important photographs may had sent five of herself Al was informed he could only keep one outraged humiliated he pleaded for permission to destroy the others personally I don’t want them to end up in a newsroom eager to publish them he wrote the once mighty Capone was now a man afraid for his wife’s image desperate to shield her from the gossip pages the warden relented Al kept his picture he gave another to Maurice and marveled at Sonny’s face how the hell can a big guy like me have such a handsome son back outside may lived in siege she bore the brunt of whispers the press’s curiosity the weight of a crumbling dynasty she raised Sonny alone shielding him from legacy and judgment and forced herself to believe one thing Al was still alive that was her anchor because in their world death didn’t knock it marched it plowed through the outfit harvesting widows like wheat one day at a time she endured in a world of shadows and ghosts she held the line the bloodletting orchestrated by J Edgar Hoover’s Bureau of investigation may have choked the arteries of organized crime but it was not enough to satisfy the Roosevelt administration the problem wasn’t simply locking up gangsters it was keeping them locked up the revolving door of prison cells spun by bribery communication lines and sheer audacity made a mockery of the justice system what America needed was not another prison it needed exile Attorney General Homer S Cummings proposed one in the summer of 1933 isolate the most dangerous criminals in a remote place an island even Alaska within a week Cummings found his solution battered by Pacific winds Alcatraz a grim rock in the middle of the breathtaking San Francisco Bay it stood like a final warning carved into stone the shimmering city lights of San Francisco glinted just across the water tantalizingly close yet as unreachable as salvation August 19th, 1934 a train bearing the weight of American infamy departs from Atlanta it carries 50 inmates strapped to their seats convicts who had thumbed their noses at law and punishment at the center of this human cargo Al Capone the entire operation unfolds under a veil of secrecy the train’s route is altered repeatedly cloaked in misleading signals and false trails to avoid any ambush no press no announcements just steel shadows and silence at Tiburon a sleepy coastal town Capone is offloaded like contraband he stumbles not from resistance but from something far more human exhaustion on the boat that ferries him across the waters of his own oblivion he cannot even stand the rock rises before him not as a place but as a sentence a Monument to lost power he mutters protests even attempts negotiation but on this stone island nobody negotiates a man greets him James A Johnston a stoic figure with white hair and the air of a schoolmaster who has seen too much at nearly 60 he’s been entrusted with taming America’s most untamable he instructs the prisoner to identify himself Capone’s voice cuts through the sea air with worn Defiance you know who I am indeed they do that’s precisely why he’s here Inmate a Z 85 Johnston replies Capone is processed like any other man no favors no theatrics cell 4 3 3 becomes his new kingdom a tomb of iron bars and one light the radio his old lifeline to the outside world is banned Alcatraz is not a prison it is silence incarnate at 6:00am the inmates are torn from sleep by protocol the bed is a slab the world is wet stone and routine but Capone stripped of entourage and empire does not wither he launders clothes his hands once stained with blood and money now scrub prison uniforms perhaps it’s the promise of early release perhaps it’s may she is no longer just a wife she is a North Star in this island that time forgot she is the only point of reference left his strength his balance his reason not to sink music tames the brute or at least it tries in Alcatraz it became his refuge behind steel bars and institutional silence Al Capone found solace in his banjo sent lovingly by may it wasn’t just a hobby it was therapy a life raft the sound of plucked strings began to echo down the prison corridors in time Al formed a ragtag ensemble the Rock Islanders serenading fellow inmates every Sunday he immersed himself in the only world he could still master melody he claimed to sunny that his repertoire was vast over 500 songs in other words junior he boasted there’s not a song written that I couldn’t play but Capone was never content simply echoing other men’s notes he composed a ballad of his own a love song of faith Madonna Mia inspired by conversations with a young Jesuit priest Vincent Casey who visited him weekly to speak of the soul and salvation Al penned the lyrics in secret a hardened gangster’s hymn to the virgin soft pleading redemptive my Madonna you are the roses that bloom you are the charm that rests in the heart of a song it was a side of Scarface the world had never seen and it had to remain mostly unseen letters were rationed their contents censored he could send only one per week to immediate family anything too lyrical too sentimental too human was purged so when the long awaited letters from may finally arrived they felt clipped impersonal Al misreading the signs fired back wounded if you’re too busy to write don’t send telegrams solitude breeds introspection and Al’s cell became a chapel of remorse I’m 36 years old and all my life I’ve tried to be a man he wrote I’ve made mistakes we all have but I hope and pray not to make any more I owe it to my son my wife my mother for the pain I have caused them to may he made a vow if she could wait he would come back to her a different man March 3rd to my dear wife I have received all your wonderful letters oh darling how I wish I could do everything I want then I know my sweet that we would be very happy I’m glad the weather is improving and that you have plenty of sunshine and sweetheart go out and play golf every day I hope you can come for Easter I would be so happy to see you doll and take a look at the magazine called the Reader’s Digest February issue there’s a story titled a Woman Over 40 what a jerk it’s good and shows that you can have plenty of fun for a long time after 40 darling don’t worry everything will be fine I only love you and have completely forgotten about the other one love your husband the tender awkwardness is almost sweet until that final line the other one who was she even locked away the myth of Capone magnetized admirers telegrams from women arrived at the prison in droves a more butler sent wishes for his freedom a mysterious Muriel assured him we are here for you and then there was Pearl D Crofton who went a step further penning Capone’s plea for freedom a poetic paean to the man behind the myth the warden intercepted the verses and returned them along with a warning Fame is persistent even when freedom is gone Al Capone Criminal Monarch Dethroned now Leafs through the pages of Life Begins at 40 Rudiments of Music how to appreciate Music and the Practical Gardening Guide a man who once ruled cities now studies flower beds and sonatas grasping at the tools to become the husband he never was the father he wishes he could have been but even redemption has its limits at Alcatraz visits are an ordeal there’s no regular day no guarantee just one 45 minute audience a month if Warden Johnston personally signs off the island is a fortress and family affection must pass through a pane of glass love shouted into perforated steel every word monitored by guards trained to hear more than they’re meant to Teresa Capone’s first visit turns into farce accompanied by her daughter Mafalda the matriarch triggers the prison’s security alarm her handbag is confiscated her dignity prodded and searched still the Siren screams the guards call in reinforcements eventually a separate room reveals the culprit the steel boned corset Teresa has worn for decades now declared contraband humiliated furious she swears in her fractured English that she’ll never return to that cursed rock once past the gauntlet they witness something chilling in the prison yard lifeless figures lie strewn across the ground the truth is worse than imagined these are mannequins riddled with bullet holes left out in daylight as a message to inmates at night the guards use them for target practice during the day they serve as silent warnings futile escape ends in death may for her part visits rarely the track from Miami is long brutal and public it requires crossing a continent facing a horde of cameras hungry for her pain she lives now in seclusion haunted by luxury that no longer comforts the reporters outside her door are relentless so she retreats into brief carefully measured telegrams hello my dear I hope you are keeping well I feel much better don’t worry about me you know me I’ll be fine no one needs to know how much I need you sending love and kisses may back on the rock danger simmers rumors leak from its wind whipped walls dark and violent Alcatraz was built to house monsters but no one said the monsters would stay chained on June 25th, 1936 May Capone awoke to a headline that nearly stopped her heart cold Al Capone stabbed the article as succinct as it was sinister offered little comfort The Department of justice confirmed that Scarface the one time king of Chicago had been attacked by a fellow inmate inside Alcatraz with a pair of Scissors the tone was clinical almost dismissive the injuries appear serious and worse the incident suggests Capone is unpopular among his fellow inmates no mention of whether he would live or die no word of the aftermath just a bloodless line to summarize a man’s near execution helpless on the opposite coast may could do nothing but imagine the worst this wasn’t the first time she’d feared the sound of her husband’s name in a death sentence only days earlier a Sunday misstep in the music room had ended in blood a fellow inmate accidentally struck Al’s head with a saxophone an offense Al repaid in kind he smashed the saxophone over the man’s skull collapsing beside the wreckage his prized 1,500 dollar banjo May’s gift shattered but the storm was only beginning on June 23rd Capone had received a new instrument from may a mandolin delivered with love and hope perhaps a chance at normality but as he proudly showed it off in the laundry room a young Texan named James Lucas serving 30 years for murder watched him Lucas harbouring silent rage and holding stolen Scissors from the barber’s chair seized his moment as Capone turned his back the Texan lunged and drove the blade into his lower spine the struggle was short savage and furious blood fists and fury in a bathroom on a rock in the sea capone survived but just barely the blade pierced near his kidneys a fragment lodged in his thumb he was taken to the prison hospital groaning under the weight of his diminished legend the department downplayed the attack the press as ever smelled scandal and incompetence Alcatraz was supposed to be impenetrable not a Coliseum for vendettas Lucas was thrown into the hole a cell of total darkness and silence designed to destroy minds rather than contain bodies he would crawl out months later ruined but that brought may no comfort she refused to sit idle hiring a San Francisco lawyer she petitioned the attorney general pleading for Al’s transfer on grounds of personal safety she argued rightly that her husband would be killed on Alcatraz the response silence rejection official indifference no transfer not even acknowledgement and the attempts kept coming an attempted strangulation in the hallway a tainted breakfast laced with lie the outfit may have forgotten its old boss but his enemies hadn’t power once tasted leaves behind enemies who remember all may could do was right reassure pretend a woman abandoned in comfort her husband trapped in hell well my dear heart Al began one letter stretching hope across the miles of ocean and wire here’s your dear husband who loves you with all his heart and soul thank you for your lovely letters I’m so happy to hear you and our dear love are healthy I just returned from mass don’t worry about me I am getting better every day he described the routines of the damned biweekly treatments exercise in the yard hot baths music on weekends he read magazines he dreamed I’ve written many songs sunny will sing them to you I’ll play them on the piano or mandolin yes darling I received a beautiful letter from sunny he is a son we can be proud of and then came the dream the day I come home you he and I will go out to celebrate our happiness I plan to spend the rest of my life there at Palm Island you me and sunny will have lots of happiness in our future on the rock it was music and fantasy that kept him alive for may it was only the letters and the hope that the next telegram wouldn’t start with a headline the near fatal stabbing did what even the iron bars of Alcatraz could not it brought Al and May Capone back together in the aftermath of blood and Betrayal Al seemed suddenly reborn as a man with a single desperate goal to be the husband may had waited for the Devil of Chicago now fancied himself Dante in exile and may the quiet wife who had long lived in his shadow became his Beatrice except this wasn’t a medieval allegory it was the brutal bone deep reality of organized crimes aftermath where repentance arrives too late and love becomes a last will and testament five years had passed since his fall and on October 24th, 1936 May marked the grim anniversary with ink and tears Saturday October 24th, 1936 my dear husband darling it has been 5 years today since you were taken away from us it was a sad dreadful day and these 5 long years have been as cruel as they have been terrible not just because you were taken away from me and moved from prison to prison but because everything has become so difficult burdening you and your loved ones with such a heavy cross to bear but darling you have been strong facing it all with bravery despite what you have endured you have borne it all I wrote to the warden to ask if I could visit you I should get his response today and I will buy my train tickets well my darling I will stop here nothing more to say take care of yourself never give up grit your teeth and always smile because you know darling it really hurts people to see that they cannot reach us or bring us down I will see you soon God bless you love and kisses I love you forever your wife and your son who love you she signed it as the woman al once promised heaven to and who now lived in a kind of earthly purgatory may prepared to travel across the country under a false name Marie Duval a nod to the caricaturist who had once shattered gender boundaries in Victorian London it was fitting May Capone was no ordinary gangster’s wife she was quietly and without fanfare becoming something far more formidable but behind her soothing words and cloak and dagger maneuvers was a secret she couldn’t bear to share with Al while he dreamed in his cell of a quiet return to their Eden on Biscayne Bay the federal government had trained its sights on her once merely the forgotten woman behind the fallen Titan May had become the target The New York Times didn’t mince words the stucco home with its tiled pool and large garden on Biscayne Bay will be sold to repay the tax debt of $51,498 which has recently been ordered against the wife of gangster Al Capone this was no longer just punishment it was total war her sanctuary the very place Al clung to like a child to a dream was about to be seized the government’s logic was merciless Al had shielded his assets by signing everything over to his wife now she would pay for his sins legally financially and possibly criminally in a twist of irony thick enough to choke on may had become the de facto treasurer of the outfit the reluctant general of a collapsing empire newspapers dubbed her the female Generalissimo she was not a leader by choice but by necessity because no one else remained standing owl never intended this his empire was built to shield may and sunny from harm but his fortress of gold had become a trap may faced ruin not just of comfort but of liberty prison once a nightmare for her husband now loomed for her and sunny the boy she raised with trembling pride could lose both parents to the ghost of bootleg fortunes she still wrote to Al with calm steady hands but the cracks were spreading beneath the surface and as the world conspired to erase every trace of the Capone name from its ledgers may fought not with guns or bribes but with love silence and a woman’s impossible endurance he knew nothing of the looming ruin because she knew him too well one violent outburst one fit of rage behind those walls and the man who once ran Chicago could lose even what little dignity he had left she filed a motion with the Federal Court to halt the forced sale of their sanctuary on Palm Island it was denied the legal reasoning was as cruel as it was clean Al had placed all his wealth in May’s name making her legally responsible and therefore solely guilty the trap had snapped shut surrounded by lawyers drowning in court costs her capital vanished only Ralph’s 11th hour delivery of cold hard cash salvaged their home it was a breath not a rescue and yet she clung to the only thing that remained intact love my dear husband it is now three thirty PM our son stayed at school to play handball we have nothing to be ashamed of and we are proud of our papa so I want our son to move forward in this world face what comes and I want everyone to know who he is and accept him for who he is there will be many obstacles he will have to face in his life and I am sure he will face them and come out stronger oh my darling I could keep writing endlessly about what I have on my mind but I know you understand how I feel what I want for him is to be a man respected by all because he deserves the same chance as everyone else in this world so I never discourage him in what he wants to do instead I try to encourage him no one has cared about his success or well being until now and I do not expect that to change we will manage well my sweet I hope you are well after all there are only two people on earth that I care about and live for my husband and my son god bless you then just as may allowed herself a breath the world collapsed again on February 9th, 1938 nestled in her Miami refuge she read a headline that turned her stomach Al Capone stabbed there were whispers of insanity isolation and humiliation no details just fear the truth behind the headline was no less alarming five days earlier Al had dared to wear his blue uniform on a Saturday instead of the mandatory gray it was a harmless rebellion something small to make him feel human a guard confronted him and al already fading from syphilitic dementia spiraled he went to the wrong cell collapsed vomited hurled insults in Italian and brawled with guards by the end of the morning he was in the infirmary confused sick and strapped down like a mad dog may had only the newspaper’s brutal ambiguity to guide her the woman who had once only wanted quiet now rose like a general in silk gloves she wrote directly to Alcatraz’s warden James A Johnston pleading for clarity and the right to stand by her husband February 9th, 1938 dear sir given the rumors I would like to leave right now this way I could be near my husband if something happens and he needs me but I wouldn’t want to make this trip only to find out that he has already been transferred please reply to me respectfully Mrs Alphonse Capone she didn’t know what was happening but she knew one thing Al would not have sabotaged his chance at early release not after all he’d written not with Sonny’s 20th birthday approaching he had promised her this nightmare was almost over she had carried him through the years with letters through the shame with silence and through exile with love now as the federal government sharpened its knives and journalists sniffed like vultures she would carry him again even if the whole world fell away make up on would not on February 11th, 1938 Al Capone once the unshakable king of Chicago wrote his wife with the unsteady hope of a dying man trying to sound like his former self he thanks her capitalized with reverence for his recovery referring to god as a woman please don’t worry about me he insists keep that beautiful smile on your lips he promises obedience vows to come home to love her alone forever but may reading between the lines hears not the reassurance of her husband but the disjointed ramblings of a man slipping further from reason May’s visit isn’t scheduled until February 28th she pleads with Warden Johnston but the prison’s rules are iron clad as she waits frantic and helpless the truth surfaces Al is deteriorating the guards see the confusion the mood swings the hallucinations a psychiatrist is summoned a lumbar puncture confirms what some had suspected but many refused to believe syphilis untreated and now ravaging his brain the disease quietly dormant for years had resumed its cruel work eroding Al’s nervous system hijacking his thoughts his decline is humiliating the great crime boss begins babbling about solving immigration and building factories as though launching a Second Empire from a cot in Alcatraz’s infirmary he suggests hospitals to his doctors preaches segregation for criminals like himself grandiose delusions take the place of coherent thought and yet one idea remains painfully clear may and sunny they are all he clings to may reads the newspapers and sees her private pain splashed across front pages on February 15th, 1938 headlines scream Mrs Capone Heads west due to Al’s illness reporters tail her across the country like bloodhounds no change of train or alias can shake them on March 1st just after her second visit in two days an unprecedented break of protocol her cab is chased by a motorcade of press vehicles from San Francisco to San Jose cornered at a gas station she holds her ground no she tells the cameras Al hasn’t lost his mind he’s fine he’ll be eligible for early release next year a forced smile rolled up windows and silence behind the gates of Alcatraz doctors prod and diagnose they want proof is al faking the answer comes coldly and clinically psychosis with general paralysis of the insane syphilis has eaten into his mind may calls the warden again and again begging for his release swearing she can care for him find him proper treatment but Warden Johnston stands firm Al Capone a Z 8 5 0 is no longer a mob king nor a sick husband he is a prisoner and he will remain one May’s pleas fall into the same silence that surrounds the rock on March 14th, 1938 Warden Johnston offered may a brittle reassurance about her husband’s condition stating he seemed responsive to treatment treatment that unbeknownst to most involved infecting Al Capone with malaria in a desperate experimental bid to scorch syphilis from his nervous system with searing fever followed by aggressive quinine doses to combat the malaria itself Al ever the gambler signed off on this biological Russian roulette his last chance at a future beyond the bars of Alcatraz a release date was finally set for January 6th, 1939 but before the first treatment may visited on August 3rd bringing their now nearly grown son Sonny who hadn’t seen his father since he ruled Chicago when Al saw the polished young man through the glass he mistook him for a reflection of his former self my son he murmured pressing close to the glass he once hoped his child would never see him behind in September the malaria therapy began and nearly killed him convulsions delirium and incontinence ravaged the man who had once commanded armies of vice Another Christmas passed in agony and silence but on November 1939 the shattered Scarface jaundiced and barely coherent was transferred under heavy guard to Lewisburg Pennsylvania where may dressed as though for a wedding met him with a radiant smile unaware of or unmoved by the warden’s warnings that he remained a ward of the state capone now Mr Martini was moved to a private room at Gettysburg Hospital under the care of Doctor Joseph E Moore a leading psychiatrist and syphilis specialist whose first concern was not Capone’s mind but whether the family could afford the bills may unshakable found the money for weeks she Teresa and Ralph Capone slipped in and out of the hospital avoiding the journalists hounding them for a glimpse of the fallen emperor Al fragile and childlike would light up only when may appeared the only constant in his turbulent world and the doctors despite their accolades and advanced treatments could not promise more than a semblance of stability brief moments of lucidity punctuated by confusion aggression and despair it was only after three weeks of intensive treatment that Doctor Moore declared him stable enough to return to a semblance of normal life they moved him to a small apartment in Mount Washington a Baltimore suburb under a new alias Rossi yet for all intents and purposes Al remained confined to a hospital without walls he sat among a pile of pillows in his new home staring vacantly shifting from side to side an adult in body but with the mind of a child may clung to hope desperate to believe the worst was behind them Doctor Moore however remained pragmatic documenting Al’s progress in sterile terms the patient now has the mental faculties of a 14 year old compared to a seven year old previously may asked if another specialist might be able to help Moore suggested she instead prepare for a slow inevitable decline in March 1940 the Capones made the journey back to their estate in Miami Al left behind the Cherry Tree he had donated to the hospital a gesture of thanks for the temporary reprieve from his suffering his physical body was free but the man had changed as the warm Miami air greeted him he did not exclaim with joy or relish in his homecoming he wandered the familiar grounds now unfamiliar to him he turned the gas on and off without reason left doors open and forgot who was in the room with him his once pristine suits were replaced by pajamas the once feared mobster the face of American crime sat in a small bungalow near the lawn guarding against imaginary threats may still beautiful and resilient dedicated herself to keeping up appearances their life a theatre of normality they dined at Miami’s finest restaurants but Al caught in a whirlpool of shifting realities drifted in and out of conversation at times he’d speak with clarity recounting tales of their youth then as quickly he’d become agitated by the sound of tires squealing outside convinced hitmen lurked behind every corner leaving a restaurant which once caused a stir of excitement became a torment as he crouched low shaking heart racing as if he were being hunted may bore the brunt of his paranoia shepherding him to their car calming him with reassurances she no longer believed inside the confines of their Palm Island home Al sought solace in fishing off the dock and playing cards gin rummy belota but even these pleasures were fleeting he rarely slept in the master bedroom opting instead for a small bungalow where he could peer out the window and monitor any cars passing by may found hidden stashes of chocolate bars throughout the room evidence of his ever present anxiety and guilt despite the IRS’s dogged attempts Al remained broke on paper his assets like ghosts seemed to vanish whenever the government tried to pin them down the family’s wealth once immeasurable had dwindled and may fought to hold on to what little remained she prayed for strength and found solace in routine she became a mother figure to Al’s niece teaching her to write neatly to sip tea properly to set a beautiful table anything to maintain a semblance of dignity amidst the chaos Christmas came and the Capone family reunited even the war with its looming threat could not overshadow the joy of having Al home albeit a broken version of himself they strung up war bonds like tinsel on the tree symbols of patriotism in a time of turmoil for one brief shining moment the Capone home was filled with laughter music and the warmth of a family that had been too long divided but the happiness was as fragile as the glass ornaments adorning the tree Al’s desire to return to Chicago the city that made him and destroyed him nagged at him may knew the temptation it was more than just a city it was his kingdom his identity she remembered the prison warden’s warning Al must never reconnect with his old associates yet in 1942 the call was too strong to resist they returned to 7 2 4 4 South Prairie Avenue and Chicago welcomed them like a prodigal son come home Al had abandoned his pajamas for a crisp white shirt cuff links sparkling like diamonds in the sun and a tie held by a pin shaped like a woman’s face the family gathered in their home a sense of Celebration in the air they headed to church as a clan then returned for a feast of cold meats cheeses and wine a banquet for the king who had fallen but returned nonetheless even in this idyllic setting the signs of Al’s illness were never far he sat in a large chair his niece on his lap patting her small hands and beaming at her innocent questions when she touched the faded scar on his cheek and asked did you get hurt a hush fell over the room but Al only laughed the deep hearty laugh of a man who’d forgotten why he’d been angry in the first place the laughter echoed through the house a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what would never be again the visit ended as quickly as it began back in Miami May resumed the daily routine of being both wife and nurse guardian and mourner the bright future Al had once promised never came instead time passed in a blur of treatments good days and bad until even the bad days seemed good in comparison the final years at Palm Island were marked by a semblance of peace but not contentment may had everything and yet nothing her days spent watching over a man she’d once feared losing but who was now already gone Al’s health deteriorated his mind slipping further away until the proud gangster became just a man who needed help to tie his shoes and recall his own name the world had moved on scarface was no longer the terror of the streets but a forgotten relic a story for old timers to tell their grandkids may Capone arranges the last few touches for Al’s 48th birthday party with meticulous care 28 years of marriage over a decade of turmoil and yet here they are still standing despite everything she remains the dignified wife of Scarface able to face the whispers and sidelong glances Al’s condition has improved since he was among the first to receive penicillin treatment discovered just a few years ago the doctor said it wouldn’t cure him but at least it put the brakes on the disease that had ravaged him tonight she’s hopeful she’s even invited a few prominent Miami figures to show them that Al despite his dark past is now just another neighbour a man tamed by love and time three days later on January 21st that fragile peace shatters at 4:00am May jolts awake to the sound of Al’s heavy labored breathing a death rattle that fills the room with dread she switches on the light and shakes him gently he convulses unresponsive panic surges through her veins is this another stroke her fear is overwhelming she fumbles for the phone desperately dialing the doctor he arrives swiftly but there’s little he can do owl’s body is half paralyzed his heart barely beating lungs struggling for every breath family members Theresa Ralph everyone gather around each taking turns to sit by his side the tension in the house is palpable a ticking clock they all feel winding down to its inevitable end four days later on January 25th the stroke claims Al’s life the man whose empire once brought in $25 million a year who shrugged off the relentless pursuit of federal agents and who was responsible for an era of bloodshed and corruption finally succumbs not to bullets or bars but to the quiet betrayal of his own failing body at exactly seven thirty five PM May stands by frozen as Al’s eyes go blank and his chest stills the man who had withstood the fury of rival gangsters and the relentless pursuit of the federal government had finally been conquered by something no one could out gun or out maneuver time the tears that trace her cheeks are not only of grief but also of relief she kneels beside him grasping his arm I’m here Al she whispers you can rest now the silence that follows swallows her whole for a moment she feels the earth shift beneath her the room spins and she collapses when she comes too may finds herself alone the black limousine is ready to push through the throng of journalists and onlookers swarming the property hoping for a last glimpse of the once mighty kingpin now reduced to a lifeless body oh time suspend your flight and you propitious hours do not carry my beloved’s body to Philbrick’s funeral home she longs to cry out knowing that no one would listen but time will not heed her wish owl 1.79 meters tall now seems tiny in that bronze coffin dressed in his navy blue double breasted jacket black tie white shirt and matching shoes more than 350 people pass by to see him out of curiosity homage or Defiance before the body is taken by car to Chicago the city that witnessed his rise and fall the man whose crime syndicate ruled the underworld who had gained and lost millions in gambling and bets who was attributed with dozens of murders and who corrupted so many politicians goes underground on a freezing afternoon in near total indifference the era of grand gangster funerals is over for all his notoriety there are no processions of black cars trailing behind his hearse no throngs of mourners lining the streets Al Capone public Enemy No. 1 is buried like a family uncle who simply passed away in his sleep on February 4th, 1947 at Mount Olivet Cemetery Mae’s steps barely leave marks in the snow covered ground there are plenty of flowers sent from all over the country but no bombastic displays of reverence the modesty suits may who despite being cast as Lady Scarface always preferred the quiet private life she gazes at the humble gravestone reading the small inscription in Italian here lies Alphonse Capone born January 17th, 1899 died January 25th, 1947 the reporters report the priest prays the grave diggers dig may stands unmoved detached as if extracting herself from the futility of it all she seems sad but also relieved relieved that her torment is over it had been so difficult for her to see her husband brought so low diminished scorned by his former loyalists politically reduced to a pariah the darkness overtakes the sky and the cold numbs her legs she slips into the limousine leaving her exuberant Italian there under marble with cold veins in a bronze coffin lined with a layer of gardenias everyone assumes she’ll be buried beside him someday but may has already decided otherwise for all the talk of loyalty and love of vows unbroken and devotion steadfast may makes a surprising decision one that no one saw coming she will not share her final resting place with him whether it’s a small final act of rebellion against a life dominated by his shadow or a way to find a semblance of freedom she’ll never say all anyone knows is that she chooses not to lie beside the man she stayed beside for nearly three decades in a letter to Mafalda she writes my mother asked me to convey her wishes regarding her burial and mine please be advised that we will not use the designated graves and you may use them at your discretion my mother and I prefer to be buried here in Florida eternity will pass without him Al and may will not end together on a bed of gardenias after Al’s death may and sunny attempt to distance themselves from the tumultuous past and build a quieter simpler life in Miami Beach with a modest vision of reclaiming some semblance of normality they open an Italian restaurant at 6 9 7 0 Collins Avenue aptly named the grotto there may pours her energy into every dish recreating the familiar tastes of the Capone family kitchen rich red sauces simmered with spices hearty meatballs and bowls of steaming pasta that invoke a sense of tradition and comfort it’s a far cry from the world of speakeasies bootlegging and backroom deals but it’s an attempt to reshape their story one meal at a time May’s presence in the grotto becomes a quiet yet resilient one in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant with its checkered tablecloths and wrought iron chairs she sits keeping a watchful eye on sunny as he bustles between tables the regulars aware of her history but too polite or perhaps too fearful to mention it treat her with a distant respect they know she’s more than just a restaurant owner she’s the widow of the most infamous mobster in American history yet in the grotto she is simply Mrs Capone the elderly woman with the sad eyes who never lost her quiet dignity even in the face of a world that once trembled at her husband’s name the restaurant becomes a modest success a neighborhood spot where locals and curious tourists stop by some hoping to catch a glimpse of the notorious widow for may it’s a way to stay connected to the outside world while maintaining the barrier of anonymity she so desperately craves despite the whispers and occasional glances the people of Miami Beach come to respect the Capone family’s wish for privacy over the years as new generations arrive and the notoriety of Capone’s empire fades may becomes less of a public figure and more of a quiet legend a woman who managed to outlive the bloodshed and brutality that defined her earlier life May’s time at the grotto gives her a sense of purpose but it can’t completely erase the weight of her past each evening as the last of the customers leave and the chairs are placed atop the tables she’s left alone with her thoughts the photographs of owl that once adorned their Miami mansion are gone now boxed up and stored away in an effort to move forward yet the memories linger like ghosts she remembers the man who ruled Chicago who commanded respect and fear in equal measure and who in his final years became a broken shell of himself haunted by his own past and ravaged by disease and then there’s sunny who carries the burden of the Capone name forever marked forever trying to escape the long shadow cast by his father even as may continues her role as the family matriarch there’s an unspoken understanding that the Capone legacy has crumbled the once mighty empire reduced to ashes left them with little more than a tarnished reputation and fading memories of wealth and power the crime syndicates that Al once helmed have moved on evolving and reshaping under new leadership leaving the Capones as relics of a bygone era with Al’s passing may becomes a living reminder of a story everyone wants to forget but no one can completely erase may spends her remaining years in relative anonymity keeping a low profile she devotes herself to her faith attends mass regularly and supports local charities trying to distance herself from the sin and scandal that characterized her younger days yet there’s a palpable sense of loss in her quiet moments a longing for something that perhaps she never fully had a normal life despite Al’s countless transgressions and betrayals may remains fiercely loyal to his memory refusing to speak ill of him or of the choices that brought them to where they are now her silence is her armour a way of protecting herself and her son from a world that never really accepted them when May’s health begins to decline in the mid 1980s she retreats further into solitude finding solace in the company of close family members and a few trusted friends by then the Capone name is mostly a distant memory overshadowed by new scandals new crimes and new figures that capture the public’s imagination the journalists who once camped outside her door have long since moved on and the public preoccupied with fresh stories of corruption and vice forgets about the quiet old woman living out her final days in Florida may dies on April 16th, 1986 at the age of 89 in a small nursing home in Miami the news of her passing is noted in the obituaries a small footnote that evokes little more than a murmur of recognition after all what remained to be said about Lady Scarface she had outlived her husband by almost 40 years enduring in a way few could have imagined in the end make a pone the woman who had once stood beside the most feared man in America slips away quietly her death barely making a ripple in the vast ocean of public consciousness her final chapter is written far from the mob wars and the violence that shaped her life no lavish funerals no parade of mourners paying their respects just a simple service attended by a few family members who remember may as more than Al Capone’s wife they remember her as the woman who endured with Grace who held her head high through scandals prisons and betrayals the woman who chose to love the man not the myth and who despite everything never abandoned the promises she made so many decades before Mae’s passing marks the true end of the Capone era for years she had been its last living link the keeper of secrets she would never reveal and now with her gone the story is over the Capone name fades into history taking with it the power the fear and the myth what remains is May’s quiet legacy a legacy of strength and silent endurance that tells a different story one of a woman who stood by her family until the very end
3 Comments
Very interesting content! Very good job
"I came to Chicago with forty dollars in my pocket…. My son is now twelve. I am still married and I love my wife dearly. We had to make a living. I was younger than I am now, and I thought I needed more…" – Al Capone
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