He
survived World War One, but was no match for Boston’s Underworld…
by Don Stradley
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Nate Siegel in his prime, circa 1920
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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. His face, neck and shoulders were torn apart by the blast. His 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 run-ins with people
all the time. Some members of his inner circle claimed Siegel had talked about being
marked for death. He’d spoken about a gangland plot to “get” him, yet he’d given
no specific reasons and made no effort to conceal his movements or get out of
Revere.
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.”
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Police examine the supposed getaway car.
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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 a good amount
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, winning several bouts in Boston 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.
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Siegel, circa 1921
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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, always sticking it to 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 the first two bouts on points, but they were
close enough that another meeting was called for. The third bout, which
headlined the first boxing show at the Arena after it had been damaged by a
fire in 1918, turned out to be a dud. Both fighters showed up overweight, and
Flynn was so listless that the referee stopped the fight in the eighth and gave
it to the Revere man.
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.
"My grandparents thought that they knew who was behind Nate's murder," said Peter Siegel of his great uncle 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 shooting 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?murders going unsolved? 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
