Read Online The Quiet Don: The Untold Story of Mafia Kingpin Russell Bufalino by Matt Birkbeck - Free Book Online
Authors: Matt Birkbeck
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the family calling for union organizing for $80 per week.
While Matheson was picketing Anastasia’s Hazleton shop, Lurye was marching in New York in front of another manufacturing plant connected to Anastasia. But just days after setting up the picket line, Lurye was accosted by two men inside a public telephone booth and stabbed repeatedly. He died within minutes.
Lurye’s murder was front-page news in New York, but its real purpose was to serve as a clear message to Matheson in Pennsylvania. Her father, who was in the hospital when her brother was killed, died a week later. He too had been a union organizer and instilled the same spirit and belief in his children. Instead of packing and leaving, Matheson instead was emboldened by her brother’s murder, and she subsequently focused her unionizing efforts on Pittston’s Main Street, which was Bufalino’s home turf.
Matheson specifically picketed one garment manufacturer that had joined another Bufalino-led union, the Northeastern Pennsylvania Needle Worker’s Association, which was run by Bufalino’s brother-in-law, Angelo Sciandra. Their slogan was “Sign with us, or you’ll be sorry.” Some worried workers signed, while others held out. The racketeers union infuriated Matheson, who continued to visit Pittston daily despite warnings from her superiors in New York to stay away. As the threats continued, Matheson persisted. One night, while walking in Pittston, Matheson was approached from behind by a man who pleaded with her to get out of town.
“For God’s sake, Min. They’ve ordered me to close my shop. They’ve threatened my family,” he said.
The plea had the opposite effect on Matheson, who went public with her crusade. She gave interviews to newspapers and, in one radio appearance, told the host that “to live by permission of goons is worse than death. Gentlemen, hoodlums, I don’t scare easily.”
And she didn’t. Each year, Matheson made gains, and one by one, the nonunion, gangster-controlled shops were slowly brought into the ILGWU’s fold. By 1953, Matheson had unionized sixty new shops and seven hundred employees. The numbers were still somewhat small when judged against the hundreds of small shops that operated throughout the region, but the growth continued to attract Bufalino’s attention. By 1955, for instance, for every new shop that Matheson brought into the ILGWU, Bufalino would send her a funeral-sized floral arrangement, while intimidation and violence were never far away. During one potentially explosive march in front of a Bufalino-owned shop, Matheson and her picketers were serenaded with catcalls and pleas from Bufalino’s associates to bring their husbands with them. Irate, Matheson saw Bufalino watching from across the street as his men cursed the female picketers, and she broke ranks and walked toward him. Standing only five feet three inches, Matheson lashed out, “I don’t need my husband to protect me. I’m twice the man you’ll ever be, Russ Bufalino.”
Bufalino didn’t reply, and after a long pause, the women on the picket line cheered as Matheson returned to join them.
The decade-long battle with Min Matheson led to several investigations of New York’s garment industry. Law enforcement for years had tried to get its hands around the mob-controlled shops, and state and federal law agencies impaneled investigative grand juries to probe the industry in attempts to flush out organized crime influence in the garment industry and labor racketeering, though with little success.
In 1950, the U.S. government also decided to take a closer look, and the Senate Special Committee to Investigate Crime in Interstate Commerce was formed. Headed by chairman Senator Estes Kefauver, the committee eventually expanded its focus and probed the mob’s influence in several industries.
The Kefauver Committee, as it was known, held more than a dozen hearings, and for the very first time, the U.S. public had an opportunity to
While Matheson was picketing Anastasia’s Hazleton shop, Lurye was marching in New York in front of another manufacturing plant connected to Anastasia. But just days after setting up the picket line, Lurye was accosted by two men inside a public telephone booth and stabbed repeatedly. He died within minutes.
Lurye’s murder was front-page news in New York, but its real purpose was to serve as a clear message to Matheson in Pennsylvania. Her father, who was in the hospital when her brother was killed, died a week later. He too had been a union organizer and instilled the same spirit and belief in his children. Instead of packing and leaving, Matheson instead was emboldened by her brother’s murder, and she subsequently focused her unionizing efforts on Pittston’s Main Street, which was Bufalino’s home turf.
Matheson specifically picketed one garment manufacturer that had joined another Bufalino-led union, the Northeastern Pennsylvania Needle Worker’s Association, which was run by Bufalino’s brother-in-law, Angelo Sciandra. Their slogan was “Sign with us, or you’ll be sorry.” Some worried workers signed, while others held out. The racketeers union infuriated Matheson, who continued to visit Pittston daily despite warnings from her superiors in New York to stay away. As the threats continued, Matheson persisted. One night, while walking in Pittston, Matheson was approached from behind by a man who pleaded with her to get out of town.
“For God’s sake, Min. They’ve ordered me to close my shop. They’ve threatened my family,” he said.
The plea had the opposite effect on Matheson, who went public with her crusade. She gave interviews to newspapers and, in one radio appearance, told the host that “to live by permission of goons is worse than death. Gentlemen, hoodlums, I don’t scare easily.”
And she didn’t. Each year, Matheson made gains, and one by one, the nonunion, gangster-controlled shops were slowly brought into the ILGWU’s fold. By 1953, Matheson had unionized sixty new shops and seven hundred employees. The numbers were still somewhat small when judged against the hundreds of small shops that operated throughout the region, but the growth continued to attract Bufalino’s attention. By 1955, for instance, for every new shop that Matheson brought into the ILGWU, Bufalino would send her a funeral-sized floral arrangement, while intimidation and violence were never far away. During one potentially explosive march in front of a Bufalino-owned shop, Matheson and her picketers were serenaded with catcalls and pleas from Bufalino’s associates to bring their husbands with them. Irate, Matheson saw Bufalino watching from across the street as his men cursed the female picketers, and she broke ranks and walked toward him. Standing only five feet three inches, Matheson lashed out, “I don’t need my husband to protect me. I’m twice the man you’ll ever be, Russ Bufalino.”
Bufalino didn’t reply, and after a long pause, the women on the picket line cheered as Matheson returned to join them.
The decade-long battle with Min Matheson led to several investigations of New York’s garment industry. Law enforcement for years had tried to get its hands around the mob-controlled shops, and state and federal law agencies impaneled investigative grand juries to probe the industry in attempts to flush out organized crime influence in the garment industry and labor racketeering, though with little success.
In 1950, the U.S. government also decided to take a closer look, and the Senate Special Committee to Investigate Crime in Interstate Commerce was formed. Headed by chairman Senator Estes Kefauver, the committee eventually expanded its focus and probed the mob’s influence in several industries.
The Kefauver Committee, as it was known, held more than a dozen hearings, and for the very first time, the U.S. public had an opportunity to
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