assigned Leeson and Seeley to park outside one of the city’s biggest speakeasies. The empty beer barrels stacked up in the alley as the night wore on. Hours went by, the bar emptied out, and the lights went off. Finally, shortly before dawn, a truck rolled up to thealley and a couple of men nonchalantly loaded the barrels into the back and drove on. Leeson and Seeley followed the barrel truck without detection—no small feat with the streets empty in the middle of the night—to a building near Comiskey Park, the Southside home of the White Sox baseball team. They had their first breakthrough. In the following days, the team rented rooms near the building and began watching it around the clock. They quickly discovered they hadn’t found a brewery; it was a barrel-cleaning facility.
Now Leeson’s expertise as a “tail man” really came into play. About twenty-five trucks filled with empty barrels rumbled into the building each day. A similar number left the facility, presumably bound for breweries. Eliot was determined to be careful. He knew they’d get only one shot at this; any hint that the dry cops were onto them and the Outfit would close up shop and disappear. So as trucks left the building with freshly cleaned barrels, Leeson and Seeley—or sometimes two other agents from the team—would follow them, but only for a few blocks before turning off. Each truck was at the center of a small convoy, with sedans cruising ahead and behind it, looking out for anything suspicious. Each morning, the agents picked up the chase where they had left off the previous day, swinging out behind the convoy and following for a handful of blocks before turning down a side street and letting the truck rumble on.Sometimes they would follow by driving ahead of the convoy and watching through the rear-view mirror, or they’d tail the beer truck by driving along parallel streets. Finally, Leeson and Seeley managed to track a truck to a garage on the West Side. “The garage was on Cicero Avenue near Western Electric Co.,” Eliot remembered. “Across from the garage was a field with tall weeds.” That’s where the two agents crouched in the middle of the afternoon. They were still there at three in the morning, when at last the garage came to life. The truck, they realized, was only there to be “cooled off.” Now two Ford coupes emerged from the building and set off down the street, one after the other. The men in the coupes slowly canvassed the neighborhood, peering into parked cars and down alleys “to detect any observers.” Yet Leeson and Seeley managed to stay hidden. Once the all-clear was given, the truck exited the garage—with the agents hustling to get to their car undetected. The truck drove down South Cicero Avenue and pulled into a long, one-story brick building with a sloped roof. Leeson and Seeley drove on past. The Capone squad had found its first brewery.
***
The team’s progress pleased Eliot, and for good reason. In a few short weeks, they had found Capone’s barrel-cleaning plant and one of his major breweries, and they also were beginning to see results from the first batch of wiretaps they’d put in. They had bugged a hotel—possibly the Lexington, where Capone often stayed—as well as casinos and whorehouses in Cicero run by the Outfit.
These developments were highly encouraging, but personnel issues sucked some of the excitement out of Eliot’s job. For much of January 1931, at the end of sixteen-hour days in the field, Eliot found himself sitting blurrily at his desk writing memos to Washington that didn’t exactly put the fledgling Capone squad in the best light. The biggest problem was Gardner, the former football hero whom Eliot had been so excited to have join the team. Just days after reporting for his new assignment in December, Gardner had requested thirty days’ leave for personal reasons. Eliot passed the request along to Froelich, who turned it down. They needed more men, not fewer,
Now Leeson’s expertise as a “tail man” really came into play. About twenty-five trucks filled with empty barrels rumbled into the building each day. A similar number left the facility, presumably bound for breweries. Eliot was determined to be careful. He knew they’d get only one shot at this; any hint that the dry cops were onto them and the Outfit would close up shop and disappear. So as trucks left the building with freshly cleaned barrels, Leeson and Seeley—or sometimes two other agents from the team—would follow them, but only for a few blocks before turning off. Each truck was at the center of a small convoy, with sedans cruising ahead and behind it, looking out for anything suspicious. Each morning, the agents picked up the chase where they had left off the previous day, swinging out behind the convoy and following for a handful of blocks before turning down a side street and letting the truck rumble on.Sometimes they would follow by driving ahead of the convoy and watching through the rear-view mirror, or they’d tail the beer truck by driving along parallel streets. Finally, Leeson and Seeley managed to track a truck to a garage on the West Side. “The garage was on Cicero Avenue near Western Electric Co.,” Eliot remembered. “Across from the garage was a field with tall weeds.” That’s where the two agents crouched in the middle of the afternoon. They were still there at three in the morning, when at last the garage came to life. The truck, they realized, was only there to be “cooled off.” Now two Ford coupes emerged from the building and set off down the street, one after the other. The men in the coupes slowly canvassed the neighborhood, peering into parked cars and down alleys “to detect any observers.” Yet Leeson and Seeley managed to stay hidden. Once the all-clear was given, the truck exited the garage—with the agents hustling to get to their car undetected. The truck drove down South Cicero Avenue and pulled into a long, one-story brick building with a sloped roof. Leeson and Seeley drove on past. The Capone squad had found its first brewery.
***
The team’s progress pleased Eliot, and for good reason. In a few short weeks, they had found Capone’s barrel-cleaning plant and one of his major breweries, and they also were beginning to see results from the first batch of wiretaps they’d put in. They had bugged a hotel—possibly the Lexington, where Capone often stayed—as well as casinos and whorehouses in Cicero run by the Outfit.
These developments were highly encouraging, but personnel issues sucked some of the excitement out of Eliot’s job. For much of January 1931, at the end of sixteen-hour days in the field, Eliot found himself sitting blurrily at his desk writing memos to Washington that didn’t exactly put the fledgling Capone squad in the best light. The biggest problem was Gardner, the former football hero whom Eliot had been so excited to have join the team. Just days after reporting for his new assignment in December, Gardner had requested thirty days’ leave for personal reasons. Eliot passed the request along to Froelich, who turned it down. They needed more men, not fewer,
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