Nate Siegel: Marked for Death

 He survived World War One, but was no match for Boston’s Underworld…

 by Don Stradley

 

 

Nate Siegel in his prime, circa 1920

 

On August 13, 1934, at approximately 2:00 AM, Nate Siegel was in the living room of his home on 64 Endicott Ave in Revere. His wife and two children were sleeping, but he was up late, tending to business. He was looking at receipts from the Clover Leaf Cafe, a tavern on North Shore Road of which he was part owner. 

 

Owning  a tavern was a natural progression for the former welterweight boxing champion of New England. He was a hero in his neighborhood, and a respected business owner. But in the stillness of the early morning hours, as Siegel ruffled through the day’s receipts, an assassin with a shotgun aimed through the front window of the house and fired.

 

The horrible sound woke his wife, Clara. She rushed out to find her husband on the floor. The blast had torn apart his neck and face. The café receipts were scattered around him. Siegel had died instantly. 

 

Police would find the abandoned getaway car a half-mile away in East Boston’s Orient Heights neighborhood. They described it as a “cheap sedan” fitted with orange Maine number plates. Wrapped in brown paper and jammed under the rear seat was a .12-gauge automatic shotgun. The killer, though, had vanished like one of those shadowy gunmen in an old-time radio serial.

 

Conflicting stories emerged. Clara said her husband had no enemies. Yet Siegel's friends and the café staff said he’d had conflicts with people all the time. Some members of his inner circle claimed Siegel had talked about being marked for death.  He’d given no specific reasons and made no effort to conceal his movements or get out of Revere, but he’d spoken about a gangland plot to “get” him.

 

The café had been in the news a few times that year. One night a young man had tried committing suicide in the men’s room.  On another occasion, a night watchman foiled a burglary attempt. Later, burglars successfully broke in and robbed a peanut vending machine. Revere was going through a rash of burglaries at the time. Desperate young men at the height of the Great Depression were resorting to petty crimes. Yet despite police questioning everyone connected with the place, the Clover Leaf Café couldn’t be connected to Siegel’s murder.

 

Police speculated that Siegel had come between rival gangs of liquor distributors. There was talk of an impending gang war, and local authorities vowed to break up Revere’s “racket conditions.” Even the Federal Government took an interest.  The case was feared to have broader ramifications than just the death of a tavern owner, and city authorities felt the local police were ill equipped to handle the investigation. A city councilman declared, “The police here are so used to gang conditions and practices that they have become inoculated to them.” Things were so bad in Revere that outside aid was needed, “in cleaning up the city.”

 

 

Police examine the supposed getaway car.

 

  

The automobile with the shotgun in it had been reported stolen many months earlier. The trail reached all the way to Providence, RI, though both the car and the weapon were registered to fictitious Maine persons. Both the car and the gun were clean of fingerprints, suggesting to police that the job was done by professionals, not punks.

 

The weapon, an automatic shotgun, lent further credence to Siegel’s murder being a gangland crime. It was the same type of weapon used in a pair of recent gang murders in Boston, as well as a botched attack on a store on Boston’s Washington Street. Police believed a killer, or killers, were being hired by mobsters for what they called “spot jobs.” The guns were expensive new models, but the police surmised that if a hit man was being paid well to kill someone, there was no loss in buying a new gun for the job and discarding it. Like the piece used to kill Siegel, an abandoned shotgun found after the failed store shooting was registered to a fictional Mainer.

 

As police gathered more information, their frustration increased.  None of the pieces of this puzzle fit together. In time, investigators couldn’t settle on whether the murder was gang related, or merely a personal incident that had escalated into violence. Siegel was, his friends said, a bold man who didn’t back down from anyone.

 

He’d grown up in Boston’s West End, where he was said to have had “a good many scraps.” Siegel began his professional boxing career in 1916 before joining the war effort in 1917. After serving 13 months overseas in the 82^nd Division (and suffering shrapnel wounds in the right arm) he resumed fighting in the ring. By this time his family had settled into Revere’s Beachmont neighborhood, and Siegel often stayed at their home on the corner of Shirley Avenue and Nahant Street. It made him a favorite among the locals. Boxing was soaring in popularity, and Revere had its very own fighter to admire.

 

A 21 bout undefeated streak was highlighted by a points win over a shopworn Ted “Kid” Lewis of Britain, and a decision over Tommy Corcoran (aka “Young Kloby”) in front of 15,000 at Braves Field. The Globe declared the Siegel-Corcoran bout was, “one of the best battles ever held in Boston.” It also earned Siegel the welterweight championship of New England, a minor title that no doubt filled its winner and his loved ones with pride.

 

Siegel, circa 1921

 

Siegel was a celebrity, known for speeding around Boston and Revere in his Cadillac. He was colorful, a capable trash talker. He could also tell entertaining stories about the war. His popularity was at its peak in 1922 when his bout with Dave Shade at the Boston Arena was filmed, making it the city's first bout captured on celluloid.

 

He was especially proud of his Jewish heritage, and critical of promoters who had once tried to saddle him with an Irish gimmick. “Why should I change my name and put on green tights?” Siegel said. “Can’t the Irish do their own fighting?” The irony was that his tavern had an Irish motif – the cloverleaf – and most of the clientele was Irish.

 

If Siegel wasn’t willing to become Irish, he was more than happy to compete against the area’s many Irish brawlers, particularly Patrick J. “Paddy” Flynn of Everett. The Siegel - Flynn series had everything – not only was it a Jewish fighter versus an Irishman (one of boxing’s hot ethnic rivalries of the period), but their respective hometowns, Revere and Everett, had always been competitive in amateur tournaments. Moreover, the camps of Siegel and Flynn had a loud rivalry in the press, hurling insults back and forth. Promoters had a small goldmine in Siegel and Flynn. They fought twice at the Boston Armory in 1920, and once at the Boston Arena in 1921. Siegel won each time.

 

Siegel’s time at the top was fleeting. He lost a pair of bouts to future Hall of Famer Mickey Walker. More losses followed. On May 27, 1924, immediately after a loss to Rocky Smith at Boston’s Grand Opera House, Siegel retired from fighting. He left the boxing business with a record of 39-16-14 with 17 wins by KO and two no-decisions.

 

Siegel settled down with Clara, became a father, and occasionally offered his services as a boxing trainer. He was a well-liked man in the Beachmont neighborhood. His café was popular. Life was nice.

 

His murder at age 38 left the police baffled. State Detective John F. Stokes wondered aloud for the Globe at Siegel’s carelessness on the night of his death. If Siegel knew gangsters were after him, why was he so cavalier about standing in front of his window? Did he think his pursuers had been called off? Or was Siegel merely acting in what his friends described as his “courageous and defiant manner?”

 

Chances are, this fighting man who had been in the ring as well as the front lines of World War One felt there was nothing to fear. But according to his great nephew, Peter Siegel, it turns out there was plenty to fear.

 

"My grandparents thought that they knew who was behind Nate's murder," Peter said in 2024. "Family lore varied a little with each person. My aunt said that Nate owned a speakeasy. By 1934 I expect it reverted to a tavern. She said that Nate had refused to buy his liquor from a certain gangster."

According to family folklore, Siegel's death had been ordered by a Jewish gangster named Louie Fox. A Revere character known for  his underworld activities and political contacts, Fox had a spicy reputation that was only whispered about. Fox's supporters claimed he was merely a real estate speculator and a philanthropist - the city named a building after him in 1988. Yet Mafia turncoat Vinnie Teresa dubbed Fox the "financial wizard for the Massachusetts mob," and described him as owning Revere, "lock, stock and barrel." Criminals of every stripe bowed to Lou Fox.

It was general knowledge that Fox "ran" Revere Beach, a three-mile stretch of barrooms, hotels and carnival rides that was sometimes called "The Coney Island of Boston."  Fox owned most of it, and even built the famous Wonderland dog track. Fox had enough clout that he leased an  office at Boston's City Hall.

 

Fox came into Siegel's circle when his sister Vera married Siegel's brother, Eddie. Having a reputed racketeer in the family fold was not a cause for concern, for even members of the Siegel family had indulged in some bootlegging during the prohibition years. At the time, the Siegels may have looked at Fox as many in Revere did, as a businessman. Fox eventually had his brother-in-law, Eddie Siegel, overseeing the day to day operations at Revere Beach.

When Nate Siegel opened his speakeasy, Fox allegedly approached him. No one could run a racket in Revere without Fox's permission, not even a distant family member. The story passed down by the family is that Fox warned the ex-fighter about how to do business.

"He said, 'I'll allow you to sell liquor, but you can sell my liquor, or you don't sell liquor at all,'" said Peter Siegel. "Nate probably told him off."

 

The first run-in between Siegel and Fox happened during the prohibition years. It is believed that Fox confronted Siegel many times and was always rebuffed. There was even talk at the time of the murder that Siegel "got physical" with someone at the tavern who had insisted he sell a certain kind of ale.

 

Fox's name was never officially linked to the murder, though according to Peter Siegel, he was considered the architect of the killing, "pretty much across the family."   

Siegel’s funeral was a major event. More than 7,000 mourners gathered along the streets of Revere as a cortege of 165 cars proceeded to a nearby synagogue.

 

The Siegel case remained unsolved. There were attempts to link it to other unsolved Revere killings in the next few years, particularly for  victims involved in the city’s underground gambling racket. Strangely, a few other Boston area boxers had been murdered in those years, including East Boston featherweight George Brogna (aka "Johnny DeLano"), whose bullet-riddled body was found in Revere. Each had links to bootlegging.

 

Siegel’s old rival Paddy Flynn also came to a grisly end. Four years after Siegel’s death, an unknown assailant murdered Flynn at a Malden gaming house. Flynn died as doctors tried to remove a .22 slug from his brain.

 

What are the chances that Siegel and Flynn, who had battled each other three times, would both be victims of unsolved murders? Those who saw them fight at the old Boston Armory thought it was just another local rivalry, but they were watching two doomed men.  

 

***

My book, Slaughter in the Streets,  explores a period of time where many Boston area boxers were killed in what appeared to be mob-related ambushes. Most went unsolved. For reasons of length, the section on Nate Siegel was cut. I've always wanted to share it.  

If you'd like to read the book, look for it on Amazon.  https://rb.gy/2qfxin