Underling: Nice day today huh Dutch?
Dutch: YOU TRYING TO TAKE OVER MY WEATHER RACKET!?
Underling: Ah, no, I was...NO DUTCH! PLEASE!  I WAS JUST...
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Dutch: Frankie gimme your gun.
Frankie: ah here Dutch.
Dutch: Thanks Frankie, by the way, when do you turn 15? A new position just opened up.
Frankie: In about...
Dutch: forgetaboutit.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Frankie: Ah boss I think he's dead now.

While he was never the "hero" that Legs Diamond was to me in my childhood, I was always fascinated by him, in part because he was assassinated in Newark, NJ, the city of my birth, in part because of the fevered, quasi-poetical soliloquy he made on his deathbed (William Burroughs wrote a book based on it entitled "The Last Words of Dutch Schultz"). Ruthlessly brutal (in dealing with one competitor, he wrapped a bandage smeared with gonorrhea pus around his eyes for days, permanently blinding him; Schultz didn't have to kill him, as the victim remained a walking advertisement about what happened to those who challenged the Dutchman). Born Arthur Flegenheimer, he was one of NY's leading bootleggers and also had the foresight to involve himself in the "policy" racket in Harlem, a racket that other white racketeers had disdained as penny-ante but which served to tremendously increase Schultz's underworld fortune and influence. In 1935, he talked about assassinating Prosecutor Thomas Dewey, who was hounding him-- this talk alarmed his underworld associates, who were increasingly viewing Schultz as a dinosaur. The "contract" was farmed out to Louis "Lepke" Buchalter (the "grand poobah" of NY organized crime during that era, Lucky Luciano, decreed that the Jewish Schultz should be eliminated by his own kind), and was carried out in the Palace Chop House in Newark on October 23, 1935. The mortally wounded Schultz rambled on for several hours before he died (one of his more enigmatic quotes was, "A boy has never wept, nor dashed a thousand Kim"). He converted to Catholicism on his death-bed, and is buried at Gate of Heaven Cemetery in NY's Westchester County (he's buried not far from James Cagney, Billy Martin and Babe Ruth, and lies right next to Lisa Steinberg, the tragic adopted daughter of Hedda Nussbaum and murderer Joel Steinberg). The tavern where Schultz was shot still stands in Newark, although it's a laundry now (I have a picture of myself taken many moons ago, standing in front of it with a shite eating grin on my puss).

Some of these mopes killed because it was part of the life they'd chosen, the cost of doing business.

This guy really liked it. Took the approach that it was a lot easier to negotiate over a streetful of corpses, and ultimately his relentless use of the gun did him in.

His associates, alarmed at his threat to clip the New York DA, had him and his mob whacked.