Graphite, New York
February 2nd, 1932
It was a drizzling gray afternoon full of lingering ghosts. The sleet came down in occasional flurries, but most of the time it remained suspended in the air as mist that the newspapers next day were to call “the thickest fog within memory.” Road traffic was almost at a standstill, and only a few drivers who were foolhardy, or those pressed by absolute necessity, were out. The wind whipped up into occasional gusts that Mickey and Doc wondered if this was the day, the day that would bring ghosts from their past riding a pale steed of vengeance.
Six weeks ago Doc and Mickey were in the employ of Gentleman Jack, also known as Jack "Legs" Diamond. Jack was an entrepreneur, who risked his freedom to ensure hard working people could have a drink at the end of the day. It was hazardous business, as Mickey had known for most of his life. If it wasn't Revenuers on your tale, it was the local Constabulary or worse yet the kingpins of the business, the Outfit, the Commission, Murder, Inc. Mickey grew up in the gangs in Chicago, met Doc there. When the Big Outfit was taking over, Mickey and Doc got the feeling they'd be walking on the wrong side of the grass soon in the Windy City, so they left. Managed to get work with Gentleman Jack.
The Sicilians that controlled New York with the 'Commission' had it out for Gentleman Jack, they weren't about to let a Philly Irishman in on a cut of their action; making the last couple years exciting and dangerous. Jack loved to live it up too, drinking and dancing, and that Irishman could cut a rug. That's how he got his nickname 'Legs'.
Gentleman Jack survived any number of assassination attempts, sometimes with Mickey his wheel man avoiding them, sometimes by Doc patching him up. Mickey remembers a time back in '30 when Doc pulled 5 bullets out of Jack in Manhattan.
Gentleman Jacks Legs fell still in the wee hours of December 18th, 1931. Jack had been up on charges for kidnapping in Troy, NY. It was bullshit, but the Commission had it out for him and had every DA and police force in New York dropping charges on Gentleman Jack. Jack had beaten the wrap on bootlegging and assault 3 times already in '31. Again, he beat the charges with the help of his attorney, Abbott Jones. The crew celebrated that night. Having drinks and dancing in Albany. But it would all erupt as Doc and Mickey slept in a room down the hall from Jack and his mistress Kiki.
Shots rang out after 1 in the morning. Mickey grabbed his Tommy and ran into the hallway in his drawers, Doc on his heels. Mickey got off once burst into the men leaving Jack's room...…….. Albany Police. The Thompson bucked and ripped a half dozen rounds in the copper from upper thigh to opposite shoulder. The man thudded to the floor eyes agape. The other copper jumped down the stairwell crumpling into a howling ball at the bottom 2 stories down. Rushing into the room, it didn't take Doc to know that both Kiki and Gentleman Jack had cut a rug for the last time. The two rapidly went back to the room, grabbed their pants and coat and hustled down the stairs as sirens could be heard closing in. Doc hit the bottom of the stairs first, then hit the exit. As Mickey hit the bottom of the stairs the copper roared, Mickey turned to see him raise his Police model Smith and Wesson, Mickey saw the flash, felt a jolt to his right hand and raised his chopper. The Thompson didn't fire, jammed he guessed. So he dove through the open exit onto hard cobbles, scraping his face. He picked himself up and hopped in the drivers seat of his Flying cloud. The car roared to life and lurched down the street. When Doc said, your bleeding.
Mickey looked down, saw his hand was gushing blood. Doc would later pull a bullet fragment from his hand, after Mickey had put the slip on 3 cruisers closing in on them. What neither Doc nor Mickey could fix is the bullet that hit the bolt of his Thompson and broke it. The Thompson is inoperable and needed a decent gun smith and probably parts.
The tiny roadside cabin, just 8' x 10' in nowhere Graphite, NY was where Mickey would heal up, and the two would lay low. Nothing here but 3 small cabins and tiny fuel station that also provided postal service and groceries for a few local miners. Doc managed to pay the toothless granny with booze from the Flying Clouds Trunk. It was enough to buy their lodging, meals and the old gummers silence for 6 weeks. The old gummer even gave them a smoked ham hock for Christmas and some blackberry jam.
Mickey's hand was now fully healed, the bullet damage to the brake master cylinder had been fixed with the master cylinder from a wrecked Stutz Touring car sitting behind the fuel station.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:31, Thu 26 July 2018.