Uncle Al Capone (24 page)

The books and movies about Al Capone document and dramatize the crimes, the influence, and the “sit downs” with the crime bosses, but now you know the man behind the infamy, the man I called “Uncle Al.”

During all these years, I have spoken with many people who related personal accounts of interacting with Al during his era. I will tell you that I never met anyone who interacted with him outside of his business who was afraid or spoke unkindly of him. He was always the first person to offer help if someone needed it.

Take my uncle’s chef, Pepozek DiBuono. After Al was sentenced for income tax evasion, Al gave him some money and said, “Peppe, I want you to open your own restaurant so that other people can enjoy your cooking.” The original restaurant was a small room, no more than ten tables covered with red checked oilcloths, a blackboard on the wall by the door where the offerings of the day were written in chalk, and a sign outside that read: Taylor Street Tap. We always called it Peppe’s. After Peppe died, we called it Sammy’s after his son who took over.

Sammy’s has expanded over the years and is now called Tufano’s, after Sammy’s mother and Peppe’s grandson now runs it. This restaurant has been operating for close to seventy years, providing the DiBuono family with their livelihood. It is a local landmark to this day. Many years after the original loan, Peppe tried to give the money back to Al’s mother, but she refused it. She considered the DiBuonos, goombas, family, and insisted they owed her nothing.

And Al’s kindness extended beyond friends of the family, too. I was speaking to a writer a couple of years ago about the possibility of her helping me write my book. When I told her who I was, she hesitated for a minute and then started to laugh. Her grandfather had told her a story about my uncle.

Her grandfather had two sisters who were spinster schoolteachers. In the late 20s they saved their money for a trip to see the Windy City. Their goal was to visit the museums and go to the theatre. Shortly after they arrived in the city, a tire blew out on their car. The two got out, and as they stood looking at it and wondering what to do, a black limousine pulled up alongside them. The man in the back seat rolled down his window and asked, “Do you ladies need help?” Of course their reply was that they did, and the man told his driver to change the tire for them.

While the driver did his work, the three had a conversation. The sisters told the gentleman where they were from, and what they wanted to see while in the big city. He presented the ladies with his business card: “Al Brown, Furniture Dealer.” He told them, “If you ladies need anything while you are in Chicago, give me a call.”

The sisters had a wonderful time, but on the last day after they returned from an outing, they discovered that the cash they had hidden in their room had been stolen. Women of that day never carried much cash on their person. They didn’t know what to do, as they needed that cash to pay the hotel bill and buy gas for the trip home.

They decided to call Mr. Brown. “Mr. Brown, can we borrow $100? We promise to repay you as soon as we get back to Sioux Falls.”

Mr. Brown asked which hotel they were in and how much money they lost. He then said, “Please stay in your room and I will send someone over right away.”

About ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. When the ladies asked who was there, the voice replied, “The hotel manager, ma’am.”

When they opened the door, the hotel manager stood there with a wide-eyed look on his face.

He handed them a stack of cash and murmured in awe, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were friends of Al Capone?”

This picture was taken in from of 7244 S. Prairie Ave. My dad, Ralph Gabriel, is sitting on the horse and my aunt Mafalda (Maffie) is standing alongside 1923.

Al Capone and his brother Albert (uncle Bites) in Miami 1940

Al Capone and niece Dolores Maritote

Al Capone and friend in Mercer Wisconsin 1945

Al Capone and his mother Theresa Miami 1946

Al Capone and Larry Fels Chicago 1945

This is one of the earliest photographs of Al Capone. It was taken the day he graduated high school and before he had the scars on his face. He is sitting in front of the pool hall where his father, sitting next to Al, died of a massive heart attack in 1920. Look at the reflection in the window and you will see the apartment building across the street where they lived. The woman standing on the balcony is Al’s mother Theresa holding my father who was just a month old. The man standing is Vincenzo Raiola. 1917.

Albert (uncle Bites) Capone, Chicago 1922

This is the only photograph in existence where Al Capone has a pistol in his hand. On the back of the picture my grandmother wrote “Al plays cops & robbers while hiding out in Wisconsin. 1925