Bob Hamm

JIMMY THE ROBIN

(Transcript of a Tape-Recorded Interview)

Testing. One. Two. Three. This is an interview with James D'Angelo, recorded at his home in Metairie, Louisiana on Friday, September 10, 1975...at 5:22 p.m.

While you are talking to your recording machine, Anthony, you can tell it that I am not happy to do this thing. I have never given an interview to a crime reporter. I talk to you and your machine only because you are like family to me. Because your papa was my best friend, God rest his soul.

I know that, Jimmy, and I appreciate it.

You are such a big-time writer of books now that you can no longer call me "Uncle Jimmy?"

There is no disrespect. You did more for me than my real uncles after Papa died. But this is business, Jimmy. You understand.

I understand. But if these are the terms, you must understand that you are not here as the son of Big Tony DiCarlo, but as a crime writer. As one whose profession I do not admire. Crime writers make stories from their own heads, Anthony, and claim they were told to them by people unable to make denial. Do not do that to me, Anthony, even after I am dead. Do not make up conversations we did not have, or write what goes on in my head as if you can hear me think. This profession you follow would not have pleased your papa.

I don't think Papa was ever pleased with me.

You talk foolishness, Anthony. I knew your Papa better than any other man. His love for you was very great. You and your Mama and your sister, Rosa, were his life. To say otherwise is disrespectful to his honor as a family man. And you are his image. I look at you and I see Big Tony alive again. If you were dressed properly, with a tie and vest, you would be the exact copy of him.

It's too late in life to change my habits of dress, Jimmy.

Ah? You are so ancient then? What is your age now?

I turned forty on Wednesday, Jimmy. September the Eighth.

Forgive an old man for not remembering. You carry your age well. You look exactly today as I remember your papa when he was only thirty. Exactly. It is amazing. Let us go on. Again, in the name of your papa, I ask you not to write garbage from what we say here today.

There is such a thing as literary license, Jimmy.

And I cancel that license in this conversation! I will answer what I can. I will not make you a story with things I do not know.

You have known so much and told so little, Jimmy. I remember Papa saying, "Your Uncle Jimmy sits in High Council. He is a man respected by Dandy Phil Kastel. By Frank Costello, even.

I do not wish to dispute your papa's words. Big Tony was my dear friend, but he made me more than I was. I was only a driver, Anthony. True, I was the best in New Orleans. When persons of prominence in The Business needed to travel with great haste, under conditions which might be considered dangerous, It was the custom of Mr. Kastel...yes, even Mr. Costello...to call on Jimmy D'Angelo.

Jimmy the Robin.

I was sometimes called that.

Papa said he gave you that name.

When I bought my first red vest, Big Tony began calling me "Robin Red Breast."

You have always worn a red vest, since I was a little kid.

Since before you were born. It has been my little vanity. I am a small man who often goes un-noticed. My place in The Business would not permit me to be a flashy dresser. With the red vest, I could open my jacket at times and feel colorful, like the Old Dons. Today, I wear it because I am seventy years old and my bones grow cold easily. Yes, Big Tony named me "Jimmy the Robin." One day we will drink wine and talk of your Papa. He could handle a car, also. When two cars were required, I would allow no one to back me but Big Tony DiCarlo. Let us get on with this thing. Ask me your questions.

The anniversary of Huey Long's assassination was this week and I'm writing a piece on it. Forty years now, and there's still doubt that Dr. Carl Weiss' bullet killed the Kingfish. No medical records are available. No autopsy report. No police report. The murder weapon is lost.

Why do you talk to me of Huey Long. I was never political. I was a driver for men of prominence.

You were more than a driver, Jimmy. Hey, I grew up around The Business. My uncles said Satan himself wouldn't move on a man Jimmy the Robin was assigned to protect.

It was sometimes my duty to see that important people in The Business were safe from those reckless enough to try to do them harm. Please get on with your questions, crime writer.

No one in the world was more important in The Business than Frank Costello. How about Lansky? Did you drive for him, too?

Mr. Meyer Lansky may have visited New Orleans on occasion when he and Mr. Costello first developed business interests here. My recollection is not exact, but Mr. Kastel, who was in charge of The Business locally long before your friend, Carlos, would have called on his most trusted driver to see to the safety and comfort of men of such stature as Mr. Lansky and Mr. Costello. I also drove at the request of Mr. Seymour Weiss, and it is possible that he would have asked me to be available for Mr. Lansky's convenience.

Seymour Weiss was the manager of the old Roosevelt Hotel then?

He became the owner. The Roosevelt Hotel was my home for many years. I had a suite of rooms there.

The big gray Packard you drove. Did it belong to the hotel or to The Business?

I cannot truthfully answer that. It was kept at the hotel. But I drove at the wishes of both Mr. Weiss and Mr. Kastel. I did not ask for the ownership papers on the automobile. The Packard was the finest car in New Orleans. I felt honored that it was placed in my care. I felt it marked my standing in The Business.

Did you ever drive for Huey Long?

He was never my responsibility. He had his own people. Maybe a hundred around him for protection. One of our people would have been sufficient. Mr. Costello or Mr. Lansky...they knew if they had Jimmy the Robin or Big Tony, they didn't need an army like that of Senator Long.

Was there, perhaps, one of Mr. Costello's people in that army that guarded Huey?

Why do you ask? They were the Senator's people. Not our people.

But the syndicate had an interest in Huey Long. Is it possible that Mr. Costello--or Dandy Phil Kastel--arranged forsomeone they trusted to travel with the governor to protect that interest?

I have told you, I was only a driver. If such things were done, I have no knowledge of it. If you want to make such a story, do not write my name in it.

Okay. Okay. Don't get irritated. It's business, Jimmy. Let's talk about the shooting. Many people believe it was a shot from a body-guard that killed Huey. Maybe a wild shot intended for the assassin.

I do not know what you wish to learn from me, Anthony. I do not know of any of our people traveling with Senator Long's body- guard. You speak of our people and then you speak of wild shots...people killed accidentally. Our people did not shoot wildly. Did not kill by accident. This conversation has nothing to do with things that I know about. I do not like the way this interview goes.

Let's talk about Seymour Weiss.

Why, Anthony? Mr. Weiss's life is well known. His civic deeds were reported often in the newspapers. He was active in your days as a reporter for The Times-Picayune. You must have reported on him yourself.

I was at some of his press conferences, but that was in his later years. I want to talk about the years when he was treasurer for Huey Long's political machine. Let me read to you from my notes on Seymour Weiss. This is from the book, "Uncle Frank: The Biography of Frank Costello" by Leonard Katz.

A crime writer who probably did not know Mr. Costello or Mr. Weiss.

Let me read. "The Roosevelt Hotel was operated by Seymour Weiss, a transplanted New York bootlegger who had ties to Costello dating from the twenties."

Garbage, Anthony. Read the book on Huey Long by the LSU professor. It tells you that Seymour Weiss was born and lived his life in Louisiana.

The footnotes in T. Harry Williams' book tell me that all the information he had on Seymour Weiss, he got from Seymour Weiss. Listen. This is from "The Last Testament of Lucky Luciano" by Gosch Hammer. "Long opened up the state and we moved into every parish, with Phil Kastel running things from the Roosevelt Hotel, where we put in a gamblin' club under one of Meyer's best guys, Seymour Weiss." One of Meyer's best guys, Jimmy.

I do not care to hear any more garbage from crime writers, Anthony. Mr. Weiss was greatly honored by this city for his good works. The crime writers tell things about him that I did not know and do not believe.

Okay. If you had dealings with Seymour Weiss, you must have had some association with Huey Long. Mr. Weiss was the Senator's number one man. He handled the money.

You are saying that Mr. Weiss worked for the Senator?

Historians agree on that.

It was not my experience that Mr. Weiss worked for the Senator. An associate, perhaps. An employee? No.

If Huey was not his boss, who was?

I do not know that anyone gave Mr. Weiss orders. I have told you that the Roosevelt was frequented by Mr. Costello, and that Dandy Phil Kastel lived there, as I did. They were friendly with Mr. Weiss. But I never heard anyone give orders to Mr. Weiss. Of course, it was seldom Mr. Costello's nature to give orders. He made suggestions.

Did he make suggestions to Huey Long?

I know of none. Mr. Costello did not enjoy dealing with heavy drinkers. He was not comfortable with people who were loud and flashy and brought attention to themselves. The governor, when he drank, did many things that would have been unpleasant to Mr. Costello.

Is it possible that Seymour Weiss made Mr. Costello's thoughts and wishes known to Huey because Mr. Costello did not like to deal with the governor directly...or because it was not good politics for the Senator to deal directly with a known crime boss?

I told you I would not make you a story from things I do not know.

There is a story about the first meeting between Costello and the Kingfish. Something about a men's room in New York, and the governor's impatience because all the urinals were taken...

Another crime writer's story. I have read this garbage...that the Senator aimed between the legs of someone standing at a urinal and splattered that person's trousers.

And that person was Trigger Mike Coppola. He supposedly flattened Long and would have blown him away if Frank Costello hadn't stepped out of a booth and stopped him.

Crime writers. Where would such a story have come from? Who would tell it? Mr. Costello would have found discussion of such matters distasteful. Michael Coppola was a professional in The Business; I knew him well. He would not have spoken of such things. So who told the crime writer this? Would the Senator have announced that he pissed on a button man and had his eye blackened? It is a crime writer's story, Anthony. In the name of your papa, don't write such garbage.

Somehow, though, Long got together with Frank Costello, the prime minister of the Syndicate. You were close, Jimmy. You have to know how all this happened...how Costello brought The Business to Louisiana.

All right, Anthony. I have some small knowledge of the early days; I will tell you what I know. In the 1932 presidential race, Mr. Costello and others made a business decision that they should do what they could to support Mr. Roosevelt. Some say Mr. Roosevelt made certain promises. I know nothing of this. Just before the Democratic Convention in Chicago, Mr. Costello visited New Orleans. He wished to become acquainted with our people. He was setting up a national organization. Then he wished to drive from here to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

And he asked Jimmy the Robin to drive him.

I recall that such was the case.

Who did he meet with in Hot Springs?

We were welcomed by Owney Madden, who at that time had begun to represent the business interests of Mr. Costello and others in Arkansas.

"Killer" Madden.

I believe he was called by some such name in his youth.

Who else was there?

I believe Mr. Lansky came, and Mr. Lucania.

Luciano?

I called the name that I knew. Mr. Charles Lucania.

Lucky Luciano.

Whatever you wish, crime writer.

Who else was there?

Those are the names of prominence in The Business. After the meeting, I was told by Mr. Costello that he wished me to continue with him to the convention. They had decided to provide refreshments and possibly some entertainment for the delegates in the hopes of winning their favor for Mr. Roosevelt, and my services would be required as a bartender. I was honored to accept the invitation.

Where does the kingfish come in?

At the Drake Hotel, although I recall that on the trip, Mr. Costello asked me many questions about Senator Long and other politicians. He was very interested in Louisiana and in the political atmosphere.

So he met Huey at the Drake.

As I recall, Mr. Costello, Mr. Lansky and Mr. Lucania each set up a suite of rooms with a bar and food--and possibly some young ladies--where the delegates could refresh themselves. I remember that Senator Long was one of the first to find Mr. Costello's suite where I was mixing drinks. I think possibly he had been sent a personal invitation.

He sat with Mr. Costello, and I served him...frequently. I could tell that Mr. Costello was not enjoying the Senator's company and would prefer to converse with someone less boisterous. Eventually, he asked me to accompany Senator Long to another suite and introduce him to Mr. Lucania.

Was that where the deal was made to bring slot machines to Louisiana?

Anthony, I did not stay there. I went back to Mr. Costello's suite. Mr. Lucania was very good at dealing with people who might have consumed to much liquor. But if he arrived at a business arrangement with the Senator that night, it is a fact of which I have no personal knowledge.

Mayor LaGuardia was putting the squeeze on the slots in New York City, and the organization--The Business--had to relocate that part of the operation. Sometime, shortly after Huey Long came back from the Democratic Convention, the slot machines popped up all over Louisiana.

You are reaching conclusions you cannot prove, Anthony.

But give me an opinion, anyway. Was the kingfish on the take? Did he cut a deal to let The Business operate here for a share of the profit?

Your papa was prominent in the Pelican Novelty Company. Did you never discuss this with him?

I was only twelve when Papa died, Jimmy. I thought he was in the candy business. I didn't know until years later that Pelican ran the slot machines.

Your papa did not deceive you. The machines of the Louisiana Mint Company, with which your papa was also involved, paid off in candy mints. Let us go on. My arthritis bothers me.

Okay. Did the kingfish get involved with Costello and the rest out of greed?

Perhaps it was not the kind of greed of which you speak. Perhaps it was Mr. Costello's influence that attracted him. Mr. Costello had much influence with political leaders, labor leaders...many people who could have been helpful to the governor if he sought the presidency for himself.

But what did Costello want from Huey? Just a place to open the slot machine operation after LaGuardia ran them out of New York?

Mr. Costello was a businessman with wide interests. He recognized the opportunities in Louisiana. The planting he did with Huey Long's blessing has produced well.

But how cold he play footsie with two arch-enemies--Huey Long and Franklin Delano Roosevelt?

They were not enemies in the beginning. As the bad thing between them developed, it probably caused Mr. Costello some concern about his association with the Senator.

How would that affect him?

Having an associate at odds with the president is not a good thing for people in The Business. The Senator was a national figure before his death. His political strength was such that he was capable of doing great harm to President Roosevelt's plans for the 1936 election.

So Roosevelt sent the IRS after him.

He sent a very good man. Elmer Irey, the man who did the number on Al Capone. I do not admire IRS people any more than I admire crime writers, Anthony, but Mr. Irey was a professional man who would have done well in any business. He gathered the evidence to indict many of Senator Long's closest associates. Even Mr. Seymour Weiss. If there was a connection between Mr. Costello and Huey Long, I am sure Mr. Irey would have been capable of discovering it. I am not telling you there was a connection.

By the time the indictments started coming down, lots of people had decided Louisiana would be better off without the Kingfish. What was Mr. Costello's attitude?

Anthony, I didn't sit in High Council. I am sure Mr. Costello was concerned that many people were being hurt because of the feud between Mr. Roosevelt and Huey Long. I do not know if he felt this was affecting business. I do not know if he wished to cool the situation.

Huey's murder cooled it, didn't it.

Without doubt. Mr. Roosevelt was only after the Senator. After the assassination, the indictments against Seymour Weiss and others were dropped. Later, Mr. Weiss headed the Louisiana delegation which supported Mr. Roosevelt's re-nomination.

This is from the book, "Lansky," by Hank Messick. Listen. At the Arlington Hotel in Little Rock, several weeks after Huey's death, Costello tells Lansky--quote--"we could have saved him, but I didn't see much point in it. The doctors had orders to let him die."

Anthony, Anthony. This is garbage. Did Mr. Costello or Mr. Lansky send a press release to this Hank Messick telling him what they discussed in the privacy of their hotel room? Did they invite this crime writer to come and take notes on their conversation? It is garbage, Anthony. A crime writer's story.

But you know and I know that two doctors were on their way to Baton Rouge from New Orleans after the shooting. They might have saved Huey, but they didn't get there until it was too late to do anything.

Such things happen. Transportation was not good in those days.

You remember I was born that night, Jimmy. The night Huey Long was shot?

Of course I remember. I brought your papa to the hospital.

No. No. You brought him back to the hospital. Mama said Papa had the big Packard that weekend. That Dandy Phil Kastel wanted him to keep it because her time was close and he wanted papa to take her to the infirmary in style. For my birth. My sister, Rose, says Papa got a call just as Mama was going into the delivery room. She says he left and never told anyone why.

Business, Anthony.

But Rose says you brought him back. Where did he go, Jimmy?

Anthony, it's forty years. I don't remember. One day we'll drink wine and talk about the old days. Now let's get this interview over. Ask your questions.

Okay, Jimmy. But you understand. I've always wondered why he would leave Mama at a time like that and never explain.

A man does what he has to do. Ask your questions.

Jimmy, did my Papa know the kingfish?

What are you asking? Of course, your papa knew the Senator. They were close. Very close. From when Mr. Long was governor. If indeed the Senator had a connection with Pelican Novelty Company, it was your papa with whom he dealt. But their friendship was more than business. Big Tony made the Senator laugh with his funny stories. He would sing him songs of the old country, and even dance the dances. Late into the night, they would laugh and sing in the Senator's suite at the old Roosevelt. Your papa never told you this?

My Papa never talked of Huey Long. If the name was mentioned, the muscle in his jaw would start to twitch. You remember the twitch, Jimmy?

All who knew Big Tony remember the twitch, some to their sorrow. But he loved and respected the Senator. Many times he sat at the Senator's table in the Blue Room, and they would clown for the patrons of the club. Once Senator Long pulled Big Tony onto the stage and they sang Italian songs and danced the old dances. Other times, they talked far into the night, and Big Tony would come to my room afterward, very quiet and thoughtful.

He would talk of the Senator's concern for poor people and old people, and his love for little children. Your papa saw a side of Huey Long that I did not see. They laughed together, and they cried together. It is a surprise to me that he never told you of his great friendship with the Senator.

I never heard him speak of Huey Long. I never saw him clown or sing or dance. I think I never really saw him laugh.

Your papa was not well when you knew him, Anthony.

My sister, Rose, says it began the night I was born. That he was never the same after that night. I always felt it had something to do with me. That he resented me.

Anthony. Anthony. Your papa loved his family above all else. And you were his only son. His son without question. His exact image.

Okay, Jimmy. But I never knew him as you knew him. I remember him thin and stooped. And sad. Always sad. Since I was a child, I felt my birth had something to do with it.

Do not carry those thoughts in your heart, Anthony.

I must tell you a story, Jimmy. I hope it is not a story that disturbs you. But I must tell it.

Very well. So we finally get there.

What?

So we finally come to the point of this meeting. What you asked me before, Anthony...meaningless, unimportant things. Questions you could answer yourself. I can read your face the way I could read your papa's face. It tells me that we finally begin to talk of the true reason that you use family and friendship to cause Jimmy the Robin to answer a crime writer's questions.

You are still very perceptive, Jimmy.

My life, and the lives of important people, have sometimes depended on my ability to read the signs in people's faces. Anthony, what benefit can there be in telling an old man a story that might disturb him?"

I must do this, Jimmy.

Then I ask you to tell it quickly. I grow very tired.

I was in Frankie's Bar Wednesday night, Jimmy, celebrating my fortieth birthday. All the old timers were there, talking about it being the fortieth anniversary of the murder of Huey Long. You know the crowd at Frankies.

I have not been to Frankie Brocato's place for many years. It is not important. Tell your story.

There was an old guy there, sort of a bum. I'd never seen him in there before. But he kept staring at me like I upset him. Like I scared him. Finally I told him, "My friend, I am big and ugly, but I am not dangerous. I'm not a narc...not the vice squad. Whatever bothers you about me, forget it. I'm just a writer celebrating his birthday." He apologized for staring at me. "It's like seeing a ghost," he says. "Your face, your build...I saw a carbon copy of you a long time ago, and sometime I dream about it."

It is an interesting occurrence, Anthony. But what does it have to do with me?

I think it has to do with Huey Long, Jimmy. I think it may have to do with many things. Maybe even my papa.

Perhaps you should not tell me this story. I don't like what I read in your face or hear in your voice. It is you that it disturbs. The muscle twitches in your jaw.

He was talking forty years ago, Jimmy. September the Eighth, 1935. He saw a man with my face the night I was born.

A drunkard in a bar, Anthony.

No. This was not booze talking. Listen to me. He was nineteen then. He had been picked up in Kenner on a burglary rap. When they took him to the police station, the place was in an uproar. Huey Long had been shot. Everybody was crowded around the radio. There was pandemonium. Nobody paid any attention to the kid, so he slipped out. He hit the road, running scared.

What point are you making, Anthony? You excite yourself too much with this drunkard's story.

Listen to me, Jimmy. He hitched a ride on a truck going west on Airline Highway, toward Baton Rouge. When the trucker dropped him off, he started hoofing it, taking to the ditch every time he saw headlights. Afraid it was cops..

Anthony, calm yourself.

There was a place on the highway where road work was being done. Just as he got there, he saw headlights coming like a bat out of hell from the direction of New Orleans. But as fast as the car was going, Jimmy, another car overtook it. A big gray Packard cut in front of the car and forced it off the road. Right by the construction work. Right where the kid was hiding in the ditch.

Anthony, let me get you a glass of wine. Are you trying to connect me with this? You know I did not drive the Packard that night.

Were you called to drive someone in another car, because Papa had the Packard?

How could I remember. It is forty years.

You remembered that you did not drive the Packard.

Watch your mouth, Anthony. It is Uncle Jimmy you talk to.

No. No. This is business. I'm talking to Jimmy the Robin. Let me go on. The Packard forced the other car off the road. Brakes squealing, dirt and gravel flying. It scared hell out of the kid in the ditch. He was just a few feet from the cars. There were three people in the car he had first seen...the one the Packard forced off the road. There was a driver and two passengers...the passengers in the back seat. What kind of car were the doctors in, Jimmy? The two who were sent from New Orleans to try to save Huey Long?

How would I know this?

It was a Buick, Jimmy. You know it was a 1934 Buick. And the car the big Packard forced off the road was a 1934 Buick.

And the drunken bum would remember this forty years later. This is of no interest to me, Anthony. You came to ask me questions about Mr. Costello and Dandy Phil Kastel. Why do you tell me a story from an old bum? Why do you talk with such excitement?

The driver of the Buick came out with a gun. But he must have recognized the other driver, because he put the gun away and they talked in front of the headlights. The kid in the ditch could see them perfectly. The guy who was driving the Packard was the one, Jimmy. The one who was a carbon copy of the way I look today.

Anthony, enough of this.

Wait. Wait. The two men went to the Buick and talked to the passengers. Then both of them went to the Packard. But the one who had driven the Buick took the wheel, and turned the car back to New Orleans.

I do not wish to listen to this any more, Anthony.

The men in the Buick just sat there. The kid hid in the ditch for over an hour and they just sat there. Not talking. Not doing anything. They were still sitting there when the kid crawled into the woods and ran away.

So someone saw a strange thing on Airline Highway, and saw someone who looked then like you look now. What is the point, Anthony?

The face of the other driver was never clear to the kid in the ditch, Jimmy. But he still remembers that he was a small man...well dressed. Wearing a red shirt or sweater. Or maybe a red vest.

We have talked enough. Turn off the recording machine.

Jimmy, you have to answer my questions. Please. If Huey Long needed doctors from New Orleans in a hurry, Seymour Weiss would order them sent, right?

Who knows? Turn it off, Anthony.

And Mr. Weiss would have sent the best driver in New Orleans to get them there, right?

Enough, Anthony.

And probably only one other man drove well enough to overtake Jimmy the Robin and force him off the road. Certainly only one man could have tried it and lived.

This interview is over, Anthony. I ask you to leave my home.

It wasn't my birth that did it to him, was it, Jimmy? It was what he had to do on the night I was born. Who called Papa at the infirmary that night and gave orders to stop those doctors...to keep them from reaching Baton Rouge until it was too late to do anything? Who had the authority to overrule Seymour Weiss?

Anthony, turn off the recording machine.

Who gave the order, Jimmy. Who told my Papa to stop the doctors and let Huey Long die?

Your Uncle Jimmy asks you. In the name of your Papa. Anthony, turn off the machine.