Excerpt Thursday: Lorelie Brown

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're celebrating with contributor Lorelie Brown because this week her debut historical romance, JAZZ BABY, is released by Samhain in paperback. JAZZ BABY is set during the Roaring 20s and was recently given special mention on Babbling About Books as a one of the best books of 2010. Join us Sunday when Lorelie will be here to talk about her ongoing fascination with the Prohibition Era and men in fedoras, as well as give away a copy!

Of all the juice joints he had to bust, this one had to be hers...

In the world of illegal speakeasies, Kate Kirkland has her life running smoother than a Model T. Maybe moving the family bar into the basement wasn't the best choice for her alcoholic brother, but Kate's making them a living--until a local gangster tries to expand his territory. Right into her bar.

Luckily Micah Trent, her handsome and too-suave bootlegger, is ready and willing to offer her a helping hand. If Kate can bring herself to accept it. Since sharing one sensual dance to seal their deal, she can't ignore the delectably wicked way he makes her feel.

Micah is keeping secrets of his own. He's a Prohibition Agent, sworn to shut down the gin mills and distilleries that keep illegal booze flowing. Kate's speakeasy is next on his list--right after he uses her as bait to catch the gangster hunting her.

But even if Micah and Kate can maneuver their way through the gangsters' dangerous underworld, will their love survive the trial by fire?

***

He found Kate near the hallway to her office. Even in the dim lights, she looked flushed. An empty wine glass dangled from one hand. In the other she had a half-empty bottle of wine. Micah knew exactly when she spotted him. She stood upright from her slump against the table. Her cupid's bow mouth pinched tight as her straight, dark brows lowered. Jesus, she was beautiful, even when annoyed. Especially when annoyed. It added a dash of hectic color normally absent from her pale, porcelain skin.

"You. I do not need to deal with you tonight." Her words were slow and rounded at the edges.

"Are you sloshed?" Micah's jaw gaped open. It didn't seem right that carefully controlled Kate should be tipsy.

She paused for a moment and tipped her head. "So what if I am? It's been a really bad day."

"It's nothing to me. I'm just a little surprised." Another couple passed by, leaning on each other, so close that one wrong stagger would send them crashing into Kate. She didn't flinch. He angled his body so he blocked her from view.

"I guess you don't know me half as well as you thought," she said. "Regret chasing me now?"

The light in her eyes was hard to read. She seemed on edge despite her slightly drunken state. She kept looking around for something. "Let's go in your office." He felt like he should get her away from the crowds. Big bad day or no, she'd regret this tomorrow.

"You too, huh?"

"What?"

"Everyone wants to get me in my dang office. You got a business proposition for me also?"

"We already do business, remember? I'd like to be paid." Micah flashed his most charming smile. It had never really worked with her before, but drunken Kate seemed slightly more manageable.

"Oh, yeah." She kept the wine bottle and headed for her office. He followed, scratching the back of his neck. This was completely out of character for her. He wondered what had upset her so badly. Not that there weren't certain compensations, he thought, watching the exaggerated sway of her slender hips, encased in a curve-skimming dress.

In the office, she hopped up and sat on the front of her desk, then leaned over to unlock a drawer the hard way. Her hem drew all the way up to her knees.

He could see the sleek curve of her calf glimmering in silk stockings. His mouth went dry and his fingertips itched. He could practically feel how smooth those legs would be. Oh, yeah, there were definite advantages to her having an edge on.

Mentally, he shook himself. She did not need him to turn into a drooling letch, not now or ever, for that matter. He was on the verge of disgusting himself. He'd never been this obsessed with a woman before.

She waved a fat, white envelope in his face. "Halloo," she crooned. "I'm up here and I'm barely smashed, not oblivious. You'd think you'd never seen a woman's legs before."

"Oh, I've seen quite a few." He chuckled. "I've found myself pretty astonished at how often I see them lately."

"A closet prude, are you?"

Micah grinned. Was that a speck of disappointment in her tone? "Not at all. Would you like me to prove it?"

Movie Adaptations: Public Enemies

By Lorelie Brown

My husband and I don't go out together by ourselves that often. I know date night is supposed to be the thing, but we're homebodies. We're way more likely to play a game of Monopoly together than go out for dinner and a movie. But when I first saw a trailer for Public Enemies, I looked at my husband without saying a word. He immediately nodded. "We'll go, we'll go."

Darn skippy we did. (Don’t we sound all Ward and June Cleaver-like. Heh.)

But really, just look at that trailer.


Doesn't it make inappropriate places on ya warm?

There was no way I was missing Johnny Depp as the charismatic, fast-talking bank robber John Dillinger. I'd just spent the previous two years studying the Prohibition Era to write JAZZ BABY. Dillinger was the poster-boy for the era, in a way. Yes, he was a bank robber, but he intentionally cultivated a Robin Hood sort of persona, which bought him plenty of press time and plenty of love from most of America. Except J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the relatively new FBI.

Hoover declared Dillinger a public enemy--which is where Marvin Purvis comes in. Played by Christian Bale in the movie, Purvis was the FBI agent who led the manhunt for quite a few various public enemies. Oh, and that's the main thrust of the movie--will Purvis get his man or will Dillinger escape?

So probably unsurprisingly, the movie was missing an element of tension for me. I already knew what was going to happen, unless they took really big liberties with history. (And then that'd tick me off.)

Does that keep Public Enemies from being a good movie? Nope. Not at all. Depp's got the amazing charismatic presence needed to pull off being Dillinger and there's danger and excitement abounding. Even a romantic thread with Dillinger's long-time girlfriend, Billie Frechette. And the costumes are just bloody awesome. (I have a weak spot for men in fedoras. It's the truth.) The movie's pretty much accurate. In fact, at the scene with the wooden gun they soften up history because Dillinger would seem too insanely awesome otherwise.

Oh, and I know certain people who'll be happy to hear this one--Channing Tatum is in it too! Well, he dies early. And bloodily. Christian Bale kills him in one of the most memorable scenes of the movie.

I give up. Go rent the movie. It'll be in the cheap bins at this point, so it'll be really impossible to regret. And I'll stop pretending I can put together a logical post today. My debut book is available in paper as of yesterday! Can you believe it? All the last hold-outs of my family, the ones who doubt I'm an author because they couldn't hold a paper copy? They have to suck it. Heh.

Lorelie Brown's first book, JAZZ BABY, is currently available from Samhain Publishing in both e-book and paperback formats. Her second romance, an 1880s-set western, will be published by Carina Press in Summer 2011.

Women Did It Better: Pioneer Codebreakers

By Carrie Lofty

Bletchley Park in England became the hub of Allied cryptography during WWII, famous for cracking Germany's Enigma code. The intelligence organization housed there, known as the Government Code and Cypher School, was staffed by more than 80% women. But two of the most dynamic and influential female codebreakers of the era were from the United States: Anges Meyer Driscoll and Elizebeth Friedman.

Illinois-born Anges Meyer Driscoll enlisted in the US Navy in 1918, just after the United States entered WWI. With her university background in foreign languages and mathematics, she entered as a chief yeoman and was assigned to the Code and Signal section of the Director of Naval Communications.

Emerging cryptographic methods included the invention and implementation of rotor machines to tackle mathematically-based codes--machines that were, in essence, proto-computers. Agnes was a tremendous advocate of this new technology and developed one of the Navy's first such machines, called "CM," during WWI. Thirty years of work on Japanese naval codes resulted in several considerable breakthroughs, including JN-25, the Japanese fleet's operational code. After Agnes and her team cracked JN-25, the post-Pearl Harbor Navy was able to out-maneuver the Japanese fleet.

Agnes also assisted in the Navy's attempt to pick apart Enigma, but that responsibility was eventually turned over to Bletchley Park. Following her retirement from the Navy after more than 30 years of service, she joined the NSA (National Security Agency) in 1952. She was buried in Arlington after her death in 1971 and was inducted into the NSA's Hall of Fame in 2000.

Indiana-born Elizebeth Friedman introduced her husband, renowned codebreaker William F. Friedman, to the field of cryptology--a passion they would share throughout their 52 years of marriage. She spoke Greek, Latin and German upon graduating from college with a degree in literature. Her love of Shakespeare earned her a job at the US intelligence facility known as Riverbank, where she initially studied whether Shakespeare's plays had actually been written by Sir Francis Bacon. Elizebeth's skills with language and the detection of patterns and anomalies eventually landed her a place at the forefront of Riverbank's juvenile codebreaking operations, including deciphering Prohibition-era codes used by gangsters.

Elizebeth and her husband left Riverbank in 1921 to found the War Department's Signals Intelligence Service, which William headed for 25 years. Elizebeth's skills at Prohibition-based decryptions were so in demand that she convinced Congress in the early 1930s of the need to train more people like her. Additional cryptoanalysts on the government payroll freed her and her husband to tackle more anomalous codes and, unbeknownst to them, to hone their skills for the conflict to come. Even being unfamiliar with a language did not stop her from applying mathematics and logic, as was exemplified by her decryption of a Mandarin Chinese code in a 1937 Canadian opium smuggling ring. She became the expert witness of choice in any trial involving the analysis of broken codes, and traveled extensively to help secure these convictions.

During WWII, Elizebeth was responsible for deciphering the codes that would eventually find Japanese spy Velvalee Dickinson, the notorious "Doll Woman," guilty of wartime censorship violation (a plea bargain down from espionage, which would've brought her the death penalty). Elizebeth and her husband were key players in negotiating with Bletchley Park to share information between Allied codebreaking operations. They exchanged deciphering machines and intelligence that resulted in many breakthroughs in the European Theater. Elizebeth's Coast Guard unit at one point attached to the Navy where she and her team solved one of the Enigma codes used by German submarines.

After the war, Elizebeth designed security measures for the Intenrational Monetary Fund and, with her husband, co-authored The Shakespearean Ciphers Examined, which revisited her early love for Shakespeare and the mysteries of his authorship. She died in 1980 at the age of 88 and is remembered as the first female American codebreaker.

Guest Author: Lorelie Brown

This week on Unusual Historicals we're featuring contributor Lorelie Brown as she celebrates the release of her 1920s-set debut, JAZZ BABY. Let's hear it for Roaring 20s romance!

Of all the juice joints he had to bust, this one had to be hers...

In the world of illegal speakeasies, Kate Kirkland has her life running smoother than a Model T. Maybe moving the family bar into the basement wasn't the best choice for her alcoholic brother, but Kate's making them a living--until a local gangster tries to expand his territory. Right into her bar.

Luckily Micah Trent, her handsome and too-suave bootlegger, is ready and willing to offer her a helping hand. If Kate can bring herself to accept it. Since sharing one sensual dance to seal their deal, she can’t ignore the delectably wicked way he makes her feel.

Micah is keeping secrets of his own. He's a Prohibition Agent, sworn to shut down the gin mills and distilleries that keep illegal booze flowing. Kate's speakeasy is next on his list--right after he uses her as bait to catch the gangster hunting her.

But even if Micah and Kate can maneuver their way through the gangsters' dangerous underworld, will their love survive the trial by fire?

***

First, can you tell us a little about JAZZ BABY?

Released from Samhain on March 2, JAZZ BABY is the story of Kate Kirkland, speakeasy owner, and Micah Trent, the Prohibition agent who intends to shut down her bar--but only after he uses her as bait to catch a gangster. And only if he can get over this raging attraction he feels for her.

Since this is Unusual Historical, we have to know about the history – was there anything you didn't like researching about the Jazz age?

The Prohibition agents and bureau, definitely. Mostly because they were a hot mess. The US was unprepared to actually enforce the 21st amendment, and then the Prohibition Bureau went through so many changes over the course of Prohibition. Who they answered to, where they were funded, how they were structured. It was incredibly difficult (for me, at least) to pin down everything to a specific year. But I think I managed it. I'm sure if I screwed something up, someone will be sure to let me know.

Kate's speakeasy is called The Kirk and has curious methods of avoiding raiding by the Prohibition agents. Can you tell us more about that?

The shelves at the bar of The Kirk are rigged to drop if a warning buzzer is hit at the front door. Once they fold down, all the booze breaks and spills out into the sewers. Also, the door from the main bar to the liquor cellars looks like an unbroken section of wall and can only be opened with a looooonng, skinny piece of metal.

The really fun part? Both these things are based on the 21 Club in New York and were really used to avoid padlocking by Prohibition enforcement. Booze was never, ever found on the premises of the club, despite numerous raids. The 21 Club is still in operation and you can have dinner in the wine cellar, behind the hidden wall, if you've got the blunt.

What are you working on now? Sticking with the unusual historicals?

Of course! I've got a completed project set in the mining towns of Montana in the 1880s. It's a western with no cowboys or guns. I like life difficult! Right now I'm working on another western, but this one has plenty of gunslinging. Next up is a sequel to JAZZ BABY, which will be Jake and Susie's story.

***

Thanks for stopping by, Lorelie, and congratulations on your debut! Readers, would you like to win a free copy of JAZZ BABY? Just leave a comment or question here for your chance. Maybe answer this: Does the Roaring 20s appeal to you as a romantic setting? Is it "historical enough" for today's romance market? Any of your thoughts would be appreciated! A winner will be drawn at random next Sunday. Void where prohibited. Best of luck!

Excerpt Thursday: Lorelie Brown

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're featuring Unusual Historicals contributor Lorelie Brown as she celebrates the release of her 1920s-set debut, JAZZ BABY. Let's hear it for Roaring 20s romance! Join us Sunday when Lorelie will be here to discuss this sexy romance and give away a copy. Here's the blurb:

Of all the juice joints he had to bust, this one had to be hers...

In the world of illegal speakeasies, Kate Kirkland has her life running smoother than a Model T. Maybe moving the family bar into the basement wasn’t the best choice for her alcoholic brother, but Kate's making them a living--until a local gangster tries to expand his territory. Right into her bar.

Luckily Micah Trent, her handsome and too-suave bootlegger, is ready and willing to offer her a helping hand. If Kate can bring herself to accept it. Since sharing one sensual dance to seal their deal, she can’t ignore the delectably wicked way he makes her feel.

Micah is keeping secrets of his own. He's a Prohibition Agent, sworn to shut down the gin mills and distilleries that keep illegal booze flowing. Kate's speakeasy is next on his list--right after he uses her as bait to catch the gangster hunting her.

But even if Micah and Kate can maneuver their way through the gangsters' dangerous underworld, will their love survive the trial by fire?

***

Dark enveloped the alley at four in the morning. Humid summer air lay heavy on Kate's bare arms. Dawn light slipped skinny fingers between the tall buildings. At this ungodly hour, the streets were quiet. Lucas and Nick shuffled and rustled behind her. Even the most determined revelers had stumbled home. Kate had shut down The Kirk an hour ago.

Headlights turned into the narrow alley. Nick shook off his doze and straightened from the brick wall. Lucas and Kate had already been alert. Lucas because he was always studiously observant in dangerous situations. Kate because she could seldom rest. When the Ford truck pulled even with the weathered door, she moved forward. Lucas stood behind her and to the right.

The driver's door of the battered truck opened and a man slid out. In the dim light, Kate could see only his outline. Tall and lean, he inclined his head to her. Kate's heartbeat leaped into her throat, the same silly reaction she'd had at every meeting over the last three weeks. She didn't move.

"Miss Kirkland." His voice was deep and buttery rich.

"Mr. Trent."

"I wish you would let me call you Kate."

She ignored the urge to say yes and eyed the man who had climbed out of the passenger side, Trent's partner. Jacob Sterling was shorter and stockier than Trent and while Trent managed to look elegant in his dark two-piece suit, Sterling only looked messy. "Hello, Mr. Sterling."

The man nodded, adding no greeting. It was normal for him. The most words she'd heard from him at one time were when he and Susie Nichols, The Kirk's resident songstress, snipped at each other.

Trent pulled a slim case from his jacket that gleamed silver in a stray beam of light. Behind her, Lucas tensed and lifted a hand to his waistband. Kate waved him off. Much about Trent made her nervous, from his wickedly edged smile to the heat in his gaze when he looked at her. The chance of him opening fire on them was not one. Trent smiled and his even teeth flashed pale white. Naturally he'd seen Lucas flinch, but it didn't seem to rattle him. Nothing did.

He held out the silver case. "Would you like a cigarette?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

"Always so unswervingly polite."

"I've found it serves in matters such as this to keep a cool head."

He slid the case back into his breast pocket. "I'd been under the impression that all you modern women smoked."

"I can't abide the taste." The dawn illuminated her, though it only backlit Trent, so Kate allowed a wicked smile to tip her lips. "From the source or from my men."

His chuckle was low and genuine. Something low in her belly took a tumble.

"I'll be sure to remember that in the future."

"Why do you believe you'll have a reason to? You've asked time and time again but my answer hasn't changed."

"I am incredibly determined. Like a mule."

She tilted her head. "Are you begging me to compare you to an ass?"

"I don't suppose it would convince you to finally accept my invitation to dinner?"

"Not a chance."

"I'll have to think of another tack for our next meeting."

"You're not determined, you're flat out stubborn."

Dramatically, Trent threw a hand over his heart. "You're starting to know me. I've got no hope now."

She smothered a laugh, even as her heart strummed heavily under her breastbone, and a low-level heat drew a taut sting of awareness through her.

Micah Trent was the one man who tempted her to mix business and pleasure. It was a damn shame that in her business letting her guard down and getting involved with the wrong man could get a body killed. Nick shuffled his feet behind her, always restless. Lucas waited patiently, but guilt flushed through Kate. The man had a wife and child at home, and she kept him out late while she flirted.

She propped a hand on her hip. "Time to show the goods, Trent."

"Are we back to business again?"

"We always were." Trent said nothing and the lie weighed heavy on her chest. She wished suddenly that she could see his eyes as more than a gleam in the dark. "Let's get on with it."

"Your wish is my command."

Dynasties: Moonshiners and NASCAR

By Lorelie Brown







So how did we get from these guys:

To this one?

And really, how am I going to manage to stretch this into a dynasty post? Aw, come on, think of the money in NASCAR. That's power with a capital P, right?

Moonshiners are those people who make alcohol in illegal stills. They get their name because their work is often done by the light of the moon.

They didn't start out as lawbreakers. Originally, they were farmers who converted their excess crops to booze. It was easier to transport than in grain form, and could often be used as a form of currency in the barter system.

But when the newly-formed government of the United States needed a way to pay for their war bills, they taxed whiskey producers in 1791--and they taxed the small time producers at a significantly higher rate than large producers. Considering that many of them made whiskey precisely because they were low on cash, the farmers weren't at all stoked about it. Hence the Whiskey Rebellion began, and had to be put down by President George Washington himself.

Though the tax that started the Whiskey Rebellion was repealed in 1801, others soon followed. And mountain men and others kept brewing their own white lightning in rural areas, the best to stay out of sight of the revenuers.

When the United State's ban on alcohol began in 1920, moonshiners were in a prime position. All they had to do was step up production, and they'd make oodles of cash. One problem--how to get their product from the rural production areas to the cities, where it sold for the most money?

The answer? Fast cars, naturally, the better to outrun Prohibition agents. Moonshine runners took their normal cars and made the engines bigger and badder, at the same time they tried to lighten the rest of the car and make more room for the booze.

And we all know how men are, right? My--ahem--engine is bigger than your engine. It wasn't enough to race law enforcement. They started racing each other. The wide, hard packed beach at Daytona made a great track, down A1A highway a couple miles, out onto the beach and back again.

It wouldn't be until 1948 that NASCAR was formally founded, but it has roots solidly embedded in moonshining, which didn't end with the repeal of Prohibition either. There were still those pesky IRS Agents to elude.

Junior Johnson is often considered one of the best NASCAR drivers ever, with a total of 53 races won as a driver (and 132 as an owner). Where'd he get his skills? Running moonshine on back-mountain roads for his family! In fact, 1955 was his first NASCAR season, but in 1956 he was convicted of moonshining after he was busted at his father's still. (They never did catch him driving!)

Nowadays NASCAR is huge business, raking in billions of dollars a year. Racing fans like to claim it's the biggest sport in the US, but I can't find the stats to back that up. One thing's for sure: it's popular enough for Harlequin to have an entire line of NASCAR oriented books. If you ever get a chance to see a live race, give it a shot. There's a good chance the speed might bite you, same as it did the moonshiners.

Now, let me leave you with this little gem:


Fun, ain't it?

Dynasties: Gangland Leaders of Chicago

By Delia DeLeest

Not all dynasties are created by a family, not a genetic one anyway. Some are created by "The Family."

In order to be the head of the Mafia, you must be Sicilian, and contrary to popular belief, Al Capone was not and could never be the head because of his lack of foresight. He was born in New York, after all, to non-Sicilian parents. But Al didn't let something as simple as an accident of birth prevent him from becoming one of the most powerful men in America.

Before there was Al Capone, there was "Big Jim" Colosimo. Big Jim was the undisputed boss of Chicago in 1902. He owned a string of gambling dens and brothels. He was ruthless and powerful, but like anyone else, he had his Achilles heel--or, in Jim's case, two of them. His head was turned by a pretty young thing. Eventually he left his wife and, in 1920, married his latest crush. Like many men with a new trophy wife, Big Jim lost interest in the day to day running of his empire and started turning much of his power over to underlings.

The second thing, which, combined with his new wife, resulted in his downfall was Big Jim's refusal to see a golden opportunity to expand his kingdom and make a lot of money for a lot of people. When Prohibition began in 1920, any entrepreneur willing to ignore that nasty 18th Amendment was destined to make a whole lot of money with bootleg liquor. When Big Jim's second in command, Johnny Torrio, presented him with his new business plan, Big Jim didn't see the need to expand his financial horizons, satisfied with the profits being made by gambling and prostitution. Besides, starting up a new branch of business would take away precious time he'd rather spend with his new wife.

Not one to take no for an answer, the charming Mr. Torrio took matters into his own hands. Torrio informed Colosimo of a shipment being delivered to one of his cafes. While Big Jim was there awaiting delivery, he was shot and killed, presumably by Frankie Yale, an associate of Torrio's, though neither was ever convicted.

In order to promote peace in the city, Big Jim had attempted to divide Chicago up between its various gangs, each outfit taking a section of the city for their own business purposes and leaving the other sections alone. Johnny Torrio wasn't a big fan of this plan, and when he took over upon Big Jim's death, bitter squabbles between the different factions erupted, elevating into full out gang wars.

To help him strong arm control of the city, Torrio called on his good friend from New York, Alphonse Capone, to lend him a hand.

Al was an ambitious young man and soon made himself indispensable to Johnny Torrio. Soon Al had a grasp of Chicago gangland politics, which worked to his advantage when, just a few years after Al arrived in Chicago, Johnny Torrio suffered an assassination attempt by a rival gang. Though Torrio survived, he was shaken enough to turn over the reins of his empire to Capone. Johnny became one of those rarities, a gangster who died of old age. He lived quietly in Europe for five years before returning to the U.S. to become somewhat of an elder statesman for the U.S. Underworld. He died in 1957 at the age of 75 after suffering a heart attack.

Which brings us back to Al. He finally got what he so desperately worked for all those years--control. His control became absolute when he took power over the mafia. Though he could not be its head, as was stated earlier, he could and did, place a puppet leader at its helm. Al Capone was now at the top of the world and his empire complete.

In 1931, Al was convicted of tax evasion and sent to prison. Though a successor took his place as leader of Chicago, with the ending of Prohibition, along with the concerns of the Great Depression, the time of the celebrity mobster was over. Soon they were replaced by the likes of Bonnie and Clyde and John Dillinger, loners with no obvious gangland ties. Though the mob is still going strong today, it tends to lay low and doesn't flagrantly flaunt the law out in the open as their predecessors did. When Capone fell, his kingdom went with him.

Men: The Ultimate Bad Boy

By Lorelie Brown

First off, let me just say I'm stoked to be here at Unusual Historicals, for more than one reason. My ability to be included here means my debut, currently titled JAZZ BABY, is going to be published (Samhain; Spring 2010). This is the culmination of a life-long dream--and the first step on a long journey, I hope. Secondly, Unusual Historicals is such an awesome place to be a part of, considering I get hot for history. (What, too much?) So me, my irreverence, and my over-use of parenthesis will hopefully be around for a good long while.

Oh, bad boys. We romance readers have such a love for them, no? From the Black Knight who gets the girl anyway, to the rake who strides through ballrooms in his gleaming boots and seduces women left and right (but never touches a virgin!), the bad boy gets his sexy on. Yum.

And who's more bad than gangsters? The modern day notion of gangsters started in the 1920s, when US Prohibition laws made alcohol forbidden. (Little known fact: it was not illegal to drink booze, just to buy or make it. So if a pint of rum just fell from the heavens at your feet, feel free to get blotto.) Gangsters had boatloads of money, most of their business was done in clubs and bars, and really, that whole Prohibition idea was kinda crazy. So breaking laws about it was looking out for the common man who just wanted to get his drink on.

Makes sense that gangsters would be great fodder for bad boys. Heck, Hollywood caught on a long time ago.

How about Al Capone:

Hmm. I don't know about you, but he's not really doing it for me in the looks department. He had a bulletproof car, though, that was later used as President Franklin Roosevelt's personal limo after it was seized--that's pretty cool.

Unfortunately, there's that whole St. Valentine’s Day Massacre thing. An attempt to get back at Bugs Moran in the increasingly violent Chicago mob wars, Capone had seven men lined up against a wall and assassinated. Each victim ended up with somewhere between 15 to 20 bullets in them. Gruesome stuff. And he died of syphilis. That sucks. I'm not thinking Capone's redeemable.

Well, OK, how about George "Bugs" Moran, who ran the North-Side gang in Chicago and was Capone's mortal enemy?

Now he's a pretty decent looking guy. He still doesn't do it for me, but I can get the appeal. He supposedly dug monogamy, so yay, no syphilis! One problem--that nickname. He got the name "Bugs" from being bat-shit crazy. Plus he was super-murderous.

Moving right along, now, we've got John Dillinger:

The guy certainly had charisma, that's for damned sure. And there's that whole Robin Hood-like aura that hangs around him. He stole primarily from banks during the 1930s Depression, and the people could get behind that, all things considered. (By 1933, a third of the banks had failed, and there was no FDIC at the time to back deposits. So imagine if you woke up one morning and found out your entire savings/retirement account was simply gone.)

By many sources, Dillinger only ever killed one man--Officer Patrick O'Malley--and some people even swear up and down that Dillinger didn't even kill him. But...well...he still hung out with killers. The whole Robin Hood image isn't quite right, either. He stole from the rich alright, but the only poor who got a cut of the loot was Dillinger himself. And one account has him leading a gang-rape at thirteen. Gah.

So, alrightie then. Maybe the real bad boys aren't quite where it's at. The heart of gold? Usually stolen. I think I'll stick to my fiction.

Just to rinse the pallet, I'll leave y'all with a picture of the most recent spiffed-up Dillinger incarnation. Now there's a bad boy I wouldn't mind spending some time with:

Food & Drink: Cocktails of the 1920s

By Jennifer Mueller

Originally, the term "cocktail" meant only those drinks that contained bitters, but now has come to mean any mixed drink. Cocktails have been around since the early 1800s, with the Sazerac as one of the first known by name in the 1820s. But with the advent of cheaply-made illegal alcohol during Prohibition, they quickly became popular, often to cover the taste of the inferior alcohol. Fashionable parties with fashionable drinks. The following are all from the 1920s.

Between The Sheets
3/4 oz. each of rum, brandy, Cointreau; a splash of lemon juice or sour mix; blend with ice, strain, and serve up in a chilled cocktail glass

Champagne Punch
1 cup water
2 tablespoons orange Curacao
2 cups sugar
Juice of 2 lemons
1 quart California champagne
2 cups tea infusion
4 tablespoons brandy
Ice
2 tablespoons Medford rum
1 quart soda water
Make a syrup by boiling water and sugar for ten minutes. Mix champagne, brandy, rum, Curacao, lemon juice, and tea infusion. Sweeten to taste with syrup and pour into punch-bowl over a large piece of ice. Just before serving, add soda water.

Old Fashioned
2 oz. Whiskey or Bourbon, a splash of simple syrup, bitters, and Soda. Fill rocks glass with ice, add simple syrup, bitters, liquor, and soda, garnish with an orange slice and cherry.

Mint Julep
1. Fill a tall glass or silver tumbler with crushed ice
2. Put 2 sprigs of fresh mint in another glass
3. Add 1/4 oz. of water
4. Add 1 tsp. sugar
5. Muddle ingredients well
6. Add 3 oz. of bourbon
7. Stir gently, but thoroughly
8. Strain into glass with crushed ice
9. Garnish with fresh sprigs of mint

Red Death
1 oz. vodka; 3/4 oz. each of amaretto, triple sec, Southern Comfort, & sloe gin; splash of orange juice; dash of lime juice. Shake with ice & pour into a tall glass.

Mary Pickford
Stir well with cracked ice:
1 1/2 oz white rum
1 oz unsweetened pineapple juice
1/2 teaspoon grenadine
Strain into chilled cocktail glass and drop in a maraschino cherry.

Colony Cocktail
Shake well with cracked ice:
1 1/2 oz gin
3/4 oz grapefruit juice
2 tsp maraschino
Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Bacardi Cocktail
Shake well with cracked ice:
1 1/2 oz light rum
1 /2 oz lime juice
3 dashes grenadine
Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Barbary Coast
Shake well with cracked ice:
3/4 oz blended scotch
3/4 oz gin
3/4 oz crème de cacao
3/4 oz heavy cream
Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Sidecar
Shake well with cracked ice:
1 1/4 oz cognac
1/2 oz Cointreau
3/4 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
Strain into chilled, sugar-rimmed cocktail glass

French 75
Shake well with cracked ice:
1 1/2 oz London dry gin
1/2 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
3/4 oz simple syrup
Strain into highball glass full of cracked ice and top off with chilled champagne.

Expansion & Invasion: Organized Crime in Chicago

By Delia DeLeest

Big cities have always had crime, it goes with the territory, but Chicago seems to be famous for its links to crime of the organized variety. How did a nice, Midwestern cattle town become the Crime Capitol of the United States? The answer is relatively simple.

Prohibition, the "noble experiment", was thought by its proponents to be the savior of the sinful and the protector of the innocent. Instead, it gave organized crime a firm foothold it has yet to relinquish and ushered in a wave of illegal bootlegging and gang rivalry that took years for the city to recover from. Chicago was a prime candidate for organized crime. Its location, close to the Wisconsin northwoods and the Canadian border, along with its access to Lake Michigan, made importing illegal liqueur relatively easy. Besides, its government was already handily in the pockets of the city's criminals, making it simple to encourage justice to look the other way when encountering its less savory, though very powerful, characters.

When Prohibition began, the unrefuted crime boss of of Chicago was Big Jim Colosimo. He controlled prostitution, racketeering and all other forms of vice in the Windy City. Big Jim was famous for his fancy clothes and love of the opera. When his love of opera transferred itself to love of a particular singer, the trouble began. He left his wife and focused all his attention on the young woman who was to become the next Mrs. Big Jim.

Not only was his first wife neglected, but so was his criminal empire. Much to the frustration of his second in command, Johnny Torrio, he refused to see the great profits that could be gained by exploiting Prohibition by building up a bootlegging empire in the city. It was during this time that a young kid from New York, Alphonse Capone, made himself known to Mr. Torrio and became indispensable to the organization. Legend has it that when Johnny Torrio finally became frustrated enough with Big Jim to take action, it was Al Capone who assisted. Big Jim Colosimo was found shot to death on May 11, 1920.

With Big Jim out of the way, Johnny was in business. A very methodical businessman, Torrio's plan was to organize the scattered pockets of bootleggers who had been fighting for control of the city. By dividing Chicago up into different areas, each serviced by a different gang, in which he would be the leader, he felt that not only could they all become rich, but stop the infighting so they could all live to enjoy it. A wonderful plan that just may have worked, but for one thing, all of the crime lords he was attempting to organize, became crime lords for a reason, they were as crooked as the day was long. Despite Torrio's efforts and threats, the group was plagued by cheating and double-dealing.

As Torrio's enforcer, Capone tended to take a fight fire with fire approach and blood flowed freely down the streets of Chicago. Since Torrio's whole concept was to incorporate to prevent bloodshed, he and Capone were soon at odds as to how to keep their fellow gangsters in line. Torrio had taught Capone everything he knew, so it should have come to no surprise to anyone when Torrio was gunned down in his front yard one day, much like Big Jim Colosimo had been five years earlier.

Unlike Big Jim though, Torrio survived. The shooting was traced to The Northsiders, the Chicago gang led by Deanie O'Banion and his fellow Irishmen, though there is ample suspicion that Capone had something to do with it. Nevertheless, Capone, good right-hand man that he was, had a ten-man guard outside Torrio's hospital door during his recovery and, when Torrio decided that gangstering business was getting too dangerous and retired, Capone gladly took his place at the helm of Chicago's underworld.

Under Capone's leadership, Chicago came as close as it was going to get to being under one rule. He systematically eliminated the competition, peaking with the wiping out of O'Banion's Irishers during the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. His spree only ended when he was finally put away in Federal prison for tax evasion in the early 1930's.

Capone's been gone for years, but his legacy continues. Though organized crime in Chicago isn't as blatant as it was during its Prohibition heyday, its claws are embedded deep in the very fabric of America.