L.A. Noir: The Struggle for the Soul of America's Most Seductive City

Champ was waiting just outside the door. Incredulous, he ran after Cohen. “A remark like that means the death penalty,” he told his charge. But Mickey was defiant.

The next day Mickey Cohen was picked up by the cops and thrown into a jail cell. Whether county or city police made the pinch is unclear. Mickey was not arraigned before a judge; there was no pretense of bringing charges. He was simply held incommunicado without bail. On day nine, Champ got him released. Again, Siegel summoned Mickey—this time to a meeting at the offices of Siegel’s attorney, Jerry Giesler. Dragna associate Johnny Roselli was there as well, representing both the local Italian mob and the Chicago “Outfit” (the new name for the old Capone gang). Even to the craziest SOB in the world, it must have been clear that Mickey was now dealing directly with New York and Chicago. Not surprisingly, there was—as Mickey liked to say—“a meeting of the minds.” Cohen was now fully under Siegel’s arm. It was time to organize L.A., “eastern style.”

      MICKEY knew Eddy Neales and liked him—“a real nice sort of fellow,” he’d say later, but someone “with California ways,” meaning, someone who couldn’t understand or accept what the Syndicate was. Neales just wanted to do his own thing. When Cohen pressed Neales’s partner Curly Robinson about accepting Siegel as a partner, Robinson stalled. Siegel soon grew impatient with the act. He decided to send a message, meaning, he decided to send Mickey.

Mickey hit Neales’s bookmaking operation first, targeting his commission office. Neales was in the office at the time. Cohen roughed him up, whacking him “across the mouth a few times.” Instead of taking the hint, Neales went into hiding. Through his partner, Neales tried to send Mickey a conciliatory message, explaining “that he meant nothing but the best for me, but that I was too hot-tempered and had too much heat on me to join forces.” Neales also warned Mickey (presciently) that his attempt “to establish things as they are in the East could never fit into the program in this part of the United States.”

Mickey would have none of it. Next he hit the Clover Club itself. After raiding the cage and relieving the off tables of their cash, Mickey turned his attention to the customers, relieving one leggy young blonde of a diamond necklace. She was Betty Grable, who during the 1940s would become one of Hollywood’s biggest stars.

(Years later, columnist Florabel Muir would introduce the two at a Hollywood party. Embarrassed, Cohen stammered out an apology, “if it was me.” Grable just smiled. “We were insured anyway,” she graciously replied.)

Neales was upset. He switched gears, threatening Siegel with police retaliation. Siegel wasn’t frightened.

“That Mexican son of a bitch thinks he’s comin’ in with me,” Siegel told Cohen. “Keep on him.”

Cohen hit Neales’s joints across the city five more times, wrecking each in the process. As a reward for doing Siegel’s bidding, Mickey kept the proceeds from the heists for himself. When Neales turned to the sheriff’s department for help, Cohen refused to back off. (Mickey’s late-night visit to Deputy Sheriff Contreras’s men wasn’t the only factor in the sheriff department’s decision to stop protecting Neales. Siegel also seems to have made a $125,000 payment to purchase some leeway from the department.) So Neales turned next to Jimmy Fox, a tough old Irishman known for his proficiency with handguns and for his excellent connections. (Fox had once shot three men in a downtown hotel room and been acquitted, implausibly, on grounds of self-defense.) As soon as Siegel heard that Neales had engaged Fox, he offered Mickey five grand to rub him out.

Soon after receiving this contract, Mickey was approached by two pharmacists, who also ran a profitable bookmaking operation out of their drugstore at the corner of Wilshire and San Vicente. They were having some problems with Fox. The pharmacists told Mickey that Fox was demanding a meeting the following evening—presumably, to put the squeeze on them—and asked if he could come too. Mickey told them he’d be glad to come and settle their problems. The pharmacist-bookmakers, dismayed by the notion that the baby-faced little fellow before them was supposed to stand between themselves and Fox, suggested that Cohen bring a few extra hands. Mickey was noncommittal.

The meeting was at the house of one of the bookmakers. Mickey arrived early, alone. When Fox arrived, he was not happy to see Mickey there, waiting for him in the kitchen. The bookmakers and one of their wives were there too. Fox got personal.

“Ya know, I’m going to tell ya something, Mickey,” Fox began. “I had trouble with your brother Harry years before, and ya know, your brother ran out on me. So my feelings towards you ain’t so goddamn good anyway—”