Hair, Numbers, and History

Originally published in the November 2022 issue of The African American Folklorist.

Michelle Slater loves history. That’s a good thing because her family’s story is woven into Pittsburgh’s Hill District’s history about as tightly as one can get. Slater’s grandmother wrote numbers for some of the Steel City’s best known numbers bankers. Her father cut hair and eventually ran the Crystal Barbershop, one of the Hill’s most iconic third places and Black-owned businesses. Slater, 58, herself learned the hair trade watching her father and she eventually became a licensed barber herself. That’s right, not a hairstylist, a barber. One wall inside her shop is dedicated to telling her family and community’s stories. There’s a lot to unpack inside Slater’s shop and her stories.

I met Slater while researching the social history of numbers gambling in Pittsburgh. Her father, Harold Slater (1924-2014), had cut the hair of a gregarious and well-loved numbers banker and nightclub owner, George “Crip” Barron (1924-2001). On Saturdays, Barron spent time with Angela James, whom he treated like a daughter. Barron would drop Angela off at the Hurricane bar next door to the Crystal Barbershop where she would drink Shirley Temples while he tended to busines and to his hair. After I interviewed Angela James for the first time in January 2021, she connected me to Michelle Slater.

Before I get into Slater’s story, it’s important to underscore the significance of the two intersecting traditions that dominate it: numbers gambling and barbering. Invented in Harlem in the first decades of the twentieth century, numbers gambling was a street lottery that formed the economic engine sustaining many twentieth century urban, rural, and suburban Black communities. The game enabled multitudes of small bettors to wager pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters on three-digit numbers derived from financial market returns published in daily newspapers.

With payoffs at 600-to-one, a big hit could yield anything from a dinner out to a down payment on a house. That’s how the late Colin Powell’s family bought its first home. Most gamblers, however, weren’t lucky and many found themselves betting money that otherwise would have gone towards rent and food. Numbers played off a dream of Black freedom and prosperity with long roots in this nation dating back at least to carpenter Denmark Vesey’s 1799 lottery win that enabled him to buy his freedom in South Carolina.

Dolores Slater holds her mother’s last numbers book. The final entries were made in the summer of 1960s, shortly before Louise Harris died. Photo by David S. Rotenstein.
Continue reading

Did the Pittsburgh mob have two patents?

Charles Tumminello (1899-1982) came to Pittsburgh from Villarosa, Sicily, and settled in the North Side. He became an accountant and built a stable, successful life free from any (known) entanglements with law enforcement. Yet, in the summer of 1930 he filed the paperwork for the first of two patents for “card sorting” machines. There’s nothing unlawful in that simple clerical exercise.

What’s curious, though, are two of the people he named as “assignees” in the patents: gambling entrepreneurs Harry “Kid” Angel and Sam Greenberg. Greenberg didn’t leave much of a paper trail during his gambling career. Kid Angel, however, was a pioneer and almost a legend in Pittsburgh’s pantheon of notable racketeers. He cut his teeth running pool halls and gaming rooms in the Hill District, graduating to numbers gambling and sports books.

Tuminello filed the application for his first patent July 30, 1930. That was four weeks after Greenberg, Angel, Frank ‘Froy” Nathan, Phil Lange, et al. went into the dog track business in O’Hara Township. Their ill-fated Guyasuta Kennel Club made headlines throughout the month of July before the courts finally forced them to shut it down. I’m left scratching my head with this one question: why did Tuminello name Angel and Greenberg as assignees on his patents? That role is typically reserved for the people/entities employing the inventor ….

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, July 4, 1930.
Pittsburgh Press, July 15, 1930.

© 2022 D.S. Rotenstein.

“Mistaken Identities” and murders

Obsessed is probably too strong of a word to describe my interest in the October 1934 turf war among two Washington, D.C. gambling entrepreneurs. But, I have had a very keen interest in the case ever since 2019 when I first read about it while working on the Talbot Avenue Bridge Historic American Engineering Records (HAER) report. It had been nearly four years since my first interviews with an aging Washington, D.C., former journalist had turned me onto the historical significance of numbers gambling. By the time that my research took me to the Takoma Park, Md., driveway where a notorious mob hitman gunned down newspaper employee Allen Wilson, I was hooked.

Indictment in Wilson murder case.

On July 25, I’m continuing the mini-mob-lecture circuit with a talk on racketeering in the D.C. suburbs: “The Numbers Game in the Burbs: Racketeering in Montgomery County.”

The free virtual program covers the history of racketeering and numbers gambling in the D.C. burbs, from the Black gambling entrepreneurs who ran the numbers in rural African American communities throughout the mostly rural suburban county to the white D.C. kingpins who made their homes there to complicate law enforcement efforts to rein them in. The so-called “Mistaken Identity Murder” caps the program as I connect the dots on one of the D.C. area’s most sensational gangland killings.

The alleged hitman, Tony “The Stinger” Cugino, was one of the East Coast’s most feared killers. In my “Squirrel Hill by the Numbers” walking tours, participants visit the site where Cugino allegedly dumped the body of one of the loose ends he cleaned up earlier in 1934 before killing Wilson. With Cugino, it’s always “allegedly” because he never made it to trial, for the Wilson murder or any of the others attributed to him. The official reports were that he hanged himself in 1935 in a New York City jail cell after the police finally caught up with him. By that time he had been suspected in hits all throughout the mid-Atlantic and upper South, including another infamous Montgomery County murder case (the “Chevy Chase Car Barn Murders“) just a few months after Wilson’s “Mistaken Identity Murder.”

Come for the numbers history and stay for the murder!

Baltimore Sun, Oct. 23, 1934.

Beyond the Zoom room

The Silver Spring program is the second of three lectures on racketeering history I’m giving this month. Pittsburghers can drop in on “Cold Storage and Real Luck” at the Lawrenceville Historical Society July 20. There were mobsters on 1500 block of Penn Ave. in Pittsburgh and the story of the city’s giant refrigerator building and Pittsburgh’s most aptly named bar has several good rackets chapters.

On August 1, just a few days before Pittsburgh’s infamous 805 episode‘s 92nd anniversary, I’m speaking to the Moon Township Historical Society. Tony “The Stinger” and his 1934 visit to Pittsburgh may or may not be on the program but lots of Steel City vice will be.

Wanted Poster for Tony “The Stinger” Cugino. United States Postal Inspection Service Bulletin, Oct. 2003.

© 2022 D.S. Rotenstein

Welcome to “Mobsburgh”: Morris Kauffman’s last ride

Last summer I inadvertently stumbled upon a story about organized crime in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Since August, I have been poring through archival records, historical newspapers, and interviewing the descendants and extended kin of people involved in Pittsburgh’s gambling and bootlegging rackets between 1920 and 1980. As I work my way through this research I will be posting stories in this space: #Mobsburgh.

The first #Mobsburgh story begins far away from Pittsburgh in the U.S. 301 and U.S. 1 highway corridors between Richmond, Virginia, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In 1933 and 1934, a loosely organized crew committed a string of robberies and murders. They were called the “Tri-State Gang” for the territory (Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia) where they operated.

Pittsburgh was a bit far afield for the gang, best known for hijacking cigarette trucks out of North Carolina and for robbing postal facilities in Washington, D.C., and Richmond. Yet, their crime spree extended to Pittsburgh in 1934 when the body of one of the gang members was found behind an apartment building in the city’s emerging Jewish neighborhood, Squirrel Hill.

Wendover Apartments, Squirrel Hill, December 2019.

The Baltimore evening Sun, May 23, 1934. Source: newspapers.com

Continue reading

A Hit on Joe Tito?

A Family Business

Nineteen thirty-two was a turbulent year in Pittsburgh organized crime history. Prohibition was winding down and the city’s racketeers were positioning themselves in a world where liquor and beer would again be legal. Turf wars in the Steel City were local dramas set within a larger story where such racketeers as Charles “Lucky” Luciano and Meyer Lansky were solidifying their hold over a national organized crime syndicate (frequently dubbed La Cosa Nostra). In 1931, Luciano became the syndicate’s leader following the brutal murders of Joe “The Boss” Masseria and Salvatore “Boss of all Bosses” Maranzano. Giuseppe “Joe” Siragusa, Pittsburgh’s “Yeast Baron,” was brutally killed in his Squirrel Hill home that year. Assassinations and violent warnings were the tools of the trade.

Joe Tito (1890-1949) was a major figure in Pittsburgh’s rackets by the time Luciano formed his commission and national vice network. He was born in Bloomfield and had grown up in Soho, where his father Raphael had bought several properties on Gazzam Hill starting in the mid 1890s. On paper, Raphael worked as a street lamp lighter, but his rapid rise from Bloomfield renter to Soho landlord, suggests some off-the-books enterprises. A number of “Black Hand” bombings and threats involving people living in his properties offers some hints as to what the source of his wealth might have been.

Raphael and Rosa Tito. Photo courtesy of Rona Peckich.
Continue reading

Ghosts and gangsters: 1129 Ridge Avenue, “America’s Most Haunted House”

Screen capture, 13 Creepy Pittsburgh Ghost Stories, http://www.pittsburghbeautiful.com

While researching organized crime in Pittsburgh I stumbled upon a colossal haunted house story. My work documenting the history of a Pittsburgh family with two generations of bootleggers and numbers racketeers inadvertently led me to 1129 Ridge Avenue in Pittsburgh’s Northside neighborhood. The family I am researching was associated with the family that owned 1129 Ridge Avenue for more than 30 years.

By the last decades of the twentieth century, stories attached to the property had earned 1129 Ridge Avenue the dubious title, “America’s most haunted house.” This post, which began as an article for a community newspaper, documents how a modest 1880s home became fodder for decades of contemporary legends.

Continue reading