Mafia Men - Hoodwinkers, suckers and scams (True Crime) by Gordon Kerr
Authors: Gordon Kerr
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Edward J. O’Hare
When the squadron was airborne, Butch O’Hare checked his controls and saw from his fuel gauge that someone on his ground crew back on the aircraft carrier had neglected to top up his fuel tank. His heart sank as he realised he would not have enough fuel to complete the mission and return to the ship. He radioed the information to his flight leader and, as he had feared, was ordered to leave the formation and return to the aircraft carrier.
On his way back, however, he spied some shapes on the distant horizon. It was a squadron of Japanese Zeroes flying towards the American fleet and making ready to attack. Butch understood at once the seriousness of the situation. The fleet was practically defenceless, with all of its fighters off on the mission he had been forced to abort. There was only one thing he could do. Without a moment’s hesitation, he flew into the middle of the Japanese planes and began a desperate and courageous fight to destroy as many as he could. He fired at them until he ran out of ammunition and then dived at them, trying to clip a wing or a tail-plane and bring them down, trying anything to prevent them getting to the ships. Eventually, the Japanese had had enough of this madman and flew away. Butch and his plane limped back to base.
In those days, every American fighter carried a camera that recorded any action in which it was involved, with the aim of learning as much as possible from the enemy manoeuvres and tactics. When Butch O’Hare’s film was developed and viewed, his colleagues were astonished. They saw just how brave he had been, how far he had gone in order to protect the American fleet. Butch was transformed overnight into a national, all-American hero and was given the Congressional Medal of Honour. Moreover, Chicago’s main airport, O’Hare, would forever bear his name.
It is possible that Butch O’Hare would never have been a hero, probably would not even have been allowed entry to the Air Force if it had not been for his father, Edward J. O’Hare. He is thought to have made a deal that got Butch into the Air Force training school at Annapolis, no easy feat in those days, requiring the recommendation of a congressional representative. What was the subject of the deal, what could ‘Easy Eddie’ O’Hare offer in exchange for a secure future for his son? None other than the greatest gangster of them all; the hoodlum whose control of Chicago in the 1920s resulted in a bloodletting never before seen in gangland and who, with his immaculate suits and fedora hat, defined the classic image of the American mobster – Scarface, himself, Alphonse Gabriel Capone.
Eddie O’Hare’s first real flush of success came from an unlikely source, the mechanical running rabbit, the small speedy bait that entices greyhounds to run at great speed around a greyhound racing track. O’Hare, a lawyer, represented the mechanical rabbit’s inventor, Owen P. Smith, who also happened to be high commissioner of the Greyhound Racing Association. In 1930, that rabbit bought E. J. O’Hare a comfortably large house with a swimming pool and a skating rink in an upmarket Chicago suburb.
E. J., as his family called him, had come far. He was born in 1893 to first generation Irish-Americans, Patrick Joseph O’Hare and his wife, Cecilia Ellen Malloy. Nineteen years later he married a St. Louis woman of German origin, Selma Anna Lauth. Three children followed in the next twelve years, Butch in 1914, Patricia in 1919 and Marilyn in 1924.
The year before the birth of his third child, E. J. had passed the Missouri bar exam and got a job with a law firm in St. Louis. By 1925, he was making good money and had branched out to run greyhound racing tracks in Chicago, Boston and Miami. He also developed a fascination with flying, befriending the great aviator, Charles Lindbergh, with whom he flew sometimes on the mail plane Lindbergh flew for the Robertson Aircraft Co. E. J. also
When the squadron was airborne, Butch O’Hare checked his controls and saw from his fuel gauge that someone on his ground crew back on the aircraft carrier had neglected to top up his fuel tank. His heart sank as he realised he would not have enough fuel to complete the mission and return to the ship. He radioed the information to his flight leader and, as he had feared, was ordered to leave the formation and return to the aircraft carrier.
On his way back, however, he spied some shapes on the distant horizon. It was a squadron of Japanese Zeroes flying towards the American fleet and making ready to attack. Butch understood at once the seriousness of the situation. The fleet was practically defenceless, with all of its fighters off on the mission he had been forced to abort. There was only one thing he could do. Without a moment’s hesitation, he flew into the middle of the Japanese planes and began a desperate and courageous fight to destroy as many as he could. He fired at them until he ran out of ammunition and then dived at them, trying to clip a wing or a tail-plane and bring them down, trying anything to prevent them getting to the ships. Eventually, the Japanese had had enough of this madman and flew away. Butch and his plane limped back to base.
In those days, every American fighter carried a camera that recorded any action in which it was involved, with the aim of learning as much as possible from the enemy manoeuvres and tactics. When Butch O’Hare’s film was developed and viewed, his colleagues were astonished. They saw just how brave he had been, how far he had gone in order to protect the American fleet. Butch was transformed overnight into a national, all-American hero and was given the Congressional Medal of Honour. Moreover, Chicago’s main airport, O’Hare, would forever bear his name.
It is possible that Butch O’Hare would never have been a hero, probably would not even have been allowed entry to the Air Force if it had not been for his father, Edward J. O’Hare. He is thought to have made a deal that got Butch into the Air Force training school at Annapolis, no easy feat in those days, requiring the recommendation of a congressional representative. What was the subject of the deal, what could ‘Easy Eddie’ O’Hare offer in exchange for a secure future for his son? None other than the greatest gangster of them all; the hoodlum whose control of Chicago in the 1920s resulted in a bloodletting never before seen in gangland and who, with his immaculate suits and fedora hat, defined the classic image of the American mobster – Scarface, himself, Alphonse Gabriel Capone.
Eddie O’Hare’s first real flush of success came from an unlikely source, the mechanical running rabbit, the small speedy bait that entices greyhounds to run at great speed around a greyhound racing track. O’Hare, a lawyer, represented the mechanical rabbit’s inventor, Owen P. Smith, who also happened to be high commissioner of the Greyhound Racing Association. In 1930, that rabbit bought E. J. O’Hare a comfortably large house with a swimming pool and a skating rink in an upmarket Chicago suburb.
E. J., as his family called him, had come far. He was born in 1893 to first generation Irish-Americans, Patrick Joseph O’Hare and his wife, Cecilia Ellen Malloy. Nineteen years later he married a St. Louis woman of German origin, Selma Anna Lauth. Three children followed in the next twelve years, Butch in 1914, Patricia in 1919 and Marilyn in 1924.
The year before the birth of his third child, E. J. had passed the Missouri bar exam and got a job with a law firm in St. Louis. By 1925, he was making good money and had branched out to run greyhound racing tracks in Chicago, Boston and Miami. He also developed a fascination with flying, befriending the great aviator, Charles Lindbergh, with whom he flew sometimes on the mail plane Lindbergh flew for the Robertson Aircraft Co. E. J. also
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