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 businessman. 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.
Clara claimed to
have seen three men running from the yard into a nearby car and speeding away. Police
would find the supposed getaway car a half mile away in East Boston, abandoned
in the 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 killers, though, had vanished
like 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 constant conflicts with people. 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 powers felt the local police were ill equipped to handle the
investigation. A councilman declared, “The police here are so used to gang
conditions and practices that they have become inoculated to them.” Crime was so high in Revere that outside aid
was needed, “in cleaning up the city.”
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 82nd 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 was a
celebrity, known for speeding around Boston and Revere in his Cadillac. He was
colorful, a capable trash talker who 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 every 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 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, 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 legends,
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 a
businessman and nothing more. 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 recently "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 narrow streets of
Revere as a cortege of 165 cars proceeded to a Nahant Ave synagogue. According
to the Boston Globe, Clara collapsed at the house and “was carried to an
automobile by relatives.” Out of respect for Siegel, all Revere liquor stores
closed for an hour during the services.
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 nasty 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
