They Call Me Korney
The True Story of Buffalo's Korney Gang
by
Michael F. Rizzo
Published by Old House History at Smashwords
Copyright
2010 Michael F. Rizzo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer quoting brief passages for a printed, electronic, or broadcast review.
Published by Old House History
ISBN - 1448671779
ISBN 13 - 978-1448671779
Design by Michael F. Rizzo
Illustration credits as follows:
(1) Courtesy of Buffalo State College Courier-Express Collection; (2) And all maps by author; (3) Erie County Clerk records; All others assumed to be in the Public Domain
This
book is dedicated to my beautiful wife Michelle.
With her love I
can do anything.
The Korney Gang
John “Korney” Kwiatkowski (kv'ee'atk'ofsk'ee)
Stephen “Bolly” Ziolkowski
(j(e)'olk'ofsk'ee)
Zygmund “Ziggy” Plocharski
(pl'oh'arsk'ee)
Anthony “Shiddy” Kalkiewicz
Victor Chojnicki
(h'oyny'eetsk'ee)
Joe Kornacki
(k'orn'atsk'ee)
Edward Larkman
Introduction
The tale you are about to read is as fascinating one as they come. It includes drama, intrigue, betrayal, murder, lies, gangsters, robberies, and quite possibly, corrupt, or at least over-zealous, police. This is the tale of one of the most prolific group of gangsters to ever roam the streets of Buffalo, New York. And it is all true.
The 1920s were a unique time in American history. The government sought to keep the growing immigrant population at bay by eliminating alcohol from public consumption when they passed the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution and created Prohibition. That would turn out to be a colossal mistake, as it led to the flourishing of organized crime and made millionaires of many relatively ordinary men, including Joseph P. Kennedy, Al Capone, and “Lucky” Luciano.
Across the United States and Canada, men, many of Italian descent, found themselves in the middle of lucrative businesses importing, bootlegging, and selling alcohol to soft drinkeries and speakeasies. In the Buffalo area most of the rackets were run by Stefano Magaddino, a tough Sicilian Mafia boss based in Niagara Falls. According to one book, Criminals and Politicians, the Polish tried to imitate the success the Italians were having, and many thought they would succeed.
John Kwiatkowski, Jr. was a tall blond from strong Polish roots. His father worked hard in a bakery and John Jr. started to follow in his father's footsteps, but realized early on that he didn't really like hard work and found that crime came rather easy to him. He would eventually take over a gang and lead them on some of Buffalo's biggest crimes of the 1920s. “Korney” as he was known throughout the East Side, Cheektowaga, and Depew, was a man's man, a ladies man, and a tough criminal. The police would later call him “Big Korney”, a name he despised. He claimed to be a simple bootlegger, nothing more, nothing less, but this book will attempt to set the record straight.
Anthony Kalkiewicz was an older bandit who lost his gang to the younger, smarter Korney. He would claim that Korney was a murderer and bandit that led them on a crime spree across Buffalo.
And in the middle of all this was Edward Larkman, another criminal from Buffalo's East Side, who was wrongly convicted of murder and spent the rest of his life in and out of prison.
This story includes possible police corruption, abuse of power, beatings, and lying under oath. In the end it would be up to a jury to decide who was telling the truth, and up to you to decide what you believe.
This book is their story. They weren't war heroes, police officers, or even good businessmen, (well, actually they were pretty good at that), but they helped to shape the 1920s in Buffalo. The story is pieced together from hundreds of newspaper articles, court documents, and other research. Dates and names were double checked, but few records still exist from over 80 years ago, so it is possible that there are minor discrepancies.
Whenever possible, actual quotes and conversations are used, but some supplementation was added to complete the tale. No names or dates were changed, and all the places are real. At the same time I must disclose that any errors were accidental and no person or entity was purposely maligned or wronged. If there are any mistakes as such, I apologize and ask that you please contact me with proof of the mistake, so it can be corrected in future editions.
If you have additional information that may be pertinent to any of these individuals, the places, and or crimes committed, including photos, please contact me for possible inclusion in future editions.
In the end, the story is true. They were dangerous and callous men living at a time when America was changing and they wanted a bigger piece of the pie. In Buffalo, New York they would find that pie and attempt to take the whole thing.
I really like showing the current value of money when I discuss or write about old history. Saying that they robbed $1,000 in 1925 is not quite the same as saying they robbed $12,184, which is the current value of $1,000. So, I have added the current value in parentheses next to most dollar amounts to give you an idea of what that would be equivalent to in 2008 dollars.
I would like to pass along several “Thank You's” to people and places that helped me to complete this book. First, thanks to the two Mike's, Mike Kocieniewski, another Korney buff, whose endless research was extremely valuable and appreciated, and Mike Tona for his help and knowledge. Daniel DiLandro, Buffalo State College Archivist for his assistance once again. The website www.Fultonhistory.com was a tremendous help in searching for old newspaper articles without leaving home. Thanks to Village of Depew Historian Art Domino for clearing up a few items. I'd also like to thank Mike Kocieniewski for reading and critiquing an early draft. Also, thank you to Brian Meyer for all the past, and hopefully future, work getting my books out to the public. Lastly, I would like to thank anyone who has followed my work over the years. Enjoy!
Mike Rizzo
bigkorney.blogspot.com
Chapter 1
October 1929, Korney
John Kwiatkowski's life was in the hands of twelve strangers. Twelve strangers picked almost at random. Twelve strangers that would debate whether his life was worth saving, worth another day. Twelve strangers that would go home to their own lives, while he would have to live, or die, with their decision.
The young man that had been called the “Blond beer baron of Buffalo”, and was known as “Korney” throughout town, could no longer do anything to save his own life.
He was on trial for murder in the first degree, punishable only by death in the electric chair at Sing Sing Prison. Acquittal was the other option, and the state was certain he would be found guilty. After all, they had the “Squealer”, Anthony Kalkiewicz, who spilled the proverbial beans on everything.
Korney sat in his cell, staring at the walls while he waited for word from the jury. It was a long time coming. Months in jail, a week of jury selection, and then the week-long trial. The final two-hour summations given by defense attorney Samuel M. Fleischman and District Attorney Guy B. Moore were still ringing in his head as the jury was locked away deliberating his fate.
As he sat there, he wondered what their decision would be. As he contemplated all these things, the jury was back, and in the end he would still not learn from his mistakes.
Chapter 2
October 1929, Kalkiewicz
Anthony Kalkiewicz sat in his cell at Erie County Jail while Korney's jury deliberated. He had turned state's evidence against Korney, not trusting him to do what was right, and spent hours detailing the crimes that he and Korney's gang had committed over the years.
He first confessed his crimes to Buffalo Police Detective Chief John G. Reville. Then, the confession was re-told in front of Police Commissioner James W. Higgins, Reville, and this time Korney was also present. Korney never spoke a word, but Kalkiewicz was certain he would have been killed by Korney if they had been left alone.
It was for that reason Kalkiewicz decided to turn himself in. He had gotten deeper and deeper into crime on Buffalo's East Side under Korney's leadership. Everything from safe cracking to armed robbery and murder hung over Tony's head like an anvil waiting to drop.
He was tough as nails, never one to welch, did his time in Auburn Prison like a man, but Korney was someone he really didn't trust. After all, it was Korney who stole the gang from him, and ordered him to bury one of their own gang members on his farm in Depew. The final straw came when Korney wanted him to take the heat for the Fedders job. Korney didn't plan it right and Kalkiewicz killed a man. He figured if he gave himself up they might be lenient with him.
Unfortunately for Kalkiewicz, he was never given immunity on the murder charge, and it might come back to haunt him in the end.
Chapter 3
Buffalo, New York
Buffalo, New York was a fast growing city in the 1920s. It was the largest grain port in the world. Its stockyards ranked second only to Chicago. World-renowned architects had built new buildings there. Women gained the right to vote and subsequently more freedom. It was an exciting place, and an exciting time.
It was also a time of great change. The country's economy never fully recovered after World War I, and the great stock market crash of 1929 was lurking just around the corner.
In addition, Prohibition had put a damper on things in this city with its large immigrant population. They were hard working people, but they couldn't have a glass of beer after a long day at work.
The Polish started to arrive in Buffalo and began occupying much of the area that was previously German, and expanded further eastward, along Broadway, Genesee, and Clinton streets, and outwards to the Lovejoy and Kaisertown parts of the city, and finally out to Sloan, Cheektowaga, and Depew.
Many things started to brew during these difficult and changing times. The climate was ripe for gangs of bandits to strike at any time, any day, across Buffalo, and strike they did.
Before the 1920s would end, the city of Buffalo would see dozens of high profile crimes committed in and around it by these gangs, and the city would never be the same.
Chapter 4
John Jr.
John and Wladyslawa Kwiatkowski emigrated to America sometime in the late 1890s, probably arriving in Buffalo a short time later. They were just two of thousands of Polish immigrants who came to Buffalo.
They were proud religious people. “Between 1873 and 1922, Polish Americans established 34 church parishes in Greater Buffalo and Western New York.” Many have since closed, but the buildings still stand as reminders of days gone by.
The Kwiatkowski's were from the Russia-occupied section of Poland and it was believed that many of the people from these areas were peasants. But, as with many European immigrants, John came to the land where the streets were paved in gold with a trade. He was 20 years old when he arrived, and had spent a few years as a baker in his homeland.
In 1900 they were living on Buffalo's East Side, at 303 Detroit Street, which had been predominantly German. But the influx of Polish settled primarily on the East Side as the German's moved out. The family would eventually move to 968 Sycamore Street, near Woltz Avenue.
On November 7, 1904 John Kwiatkowski Jr. was born. By all accounts he would appear to be an average boy. He would gain the nickname “Korney” and grow up on the streets of Buffalo's East Side during World War I. By the time he was old enough, he was following in his father's shoes as a baker. But, unlike his father, he had much bigger plans. He was already running with a tough crowd.
In 1918 the 18th Amendment was passed which prohibited the sale, distribution, or manufacture of alcoholic beverages. Seen as a way to curb the influence of immigrants across the country, this was felt hardest on the East Side, where hundreds of saloons and restaurants were located, on nearly every corner.
Korney would use this to his advantage, opening illegal breweries and stills in Buffalo and Depew, a suburban town outside the city. At 487 Penora Street in Depew he rented a garage for $25 ($304) a month where he installed a bottling plant where his pal Bolly worked. And at 29 Neoga Street, Depew he operated another still for 18 months.
He would open a saloon at 49 Main Street, Depew, around the corner from his brewery. He probably rolled the kegs right to the saloon from the brewery.
He had grown to be a hulk of a young man, standing six feet two inches tall, almost 200 pounds, with blond hair. He was a big man, and soon would become one of the most intimidating, powerful, and murderous men Buffalo had ever seen, creating his own empire on Buffalo's East Side.
Chapter 5
Bolly
Stephen “Bolly” Ziolkowski was an American of Polish descent. Born in 1905 to Polish-Russian immigrants Louis and Lucy, who came to Buffalo sometime in the late 1890s, they originally settled on Penora Street in Lancaster, New York, a rural suburb of Buffalo.
The family lived at 68 A Street, then 1315 Broadway Street, and later 95 St. Joseph Avenue, all in Buffalo. Louis was a molder, and like Korney, Stephen followed his father into the same trade. His older brothers were all meat cutters in Buffalo's huge stockyard industry.
His father Louis died in the early 1920s, leaving a teenaged Stephen without a father, and time to pursue interests that weren't all legal. He eventually met Korney, who lived about ten blocks away. Korney was the same age, and a big man compared to Bolly, who was relatively short, and smaller in stature.
Together they started performing small time petit larcenies, pickpocketing, and shoplifting in and around their neighborhood and through the Broadway-Fillmore area. He stopped going to school when he was 14 and spent two months in truancy school when he was 15. Two years later, 1917, he was again picked up for truancy and spent 1-½ years at Father Baker's Academy for wayward boys.
He was arrested for juvenile delinquency and receiving stolen property for which he spent almost 23 months in Auburn Prison.
Bolly decided to join his brothers in the meat business and worked at various markets in the area, including the Broadway and Black Rock.
In May 1928 he opened a soft drink place on Sycamore Street near Howlett Street. One of his bartenders was William “Kackie” Groblewski, not to be confused with Kalkiewicz, who would later testify on his behalf. His brother Joseph was a regular customer every Saturday night. He kept the place open until March 30, 1929.
From all accounts it appears that Groblewski and Bolly were close friends. They spent nearly every night together in Leon Kosek's saloon, just a block from his own on Sycamore.
Together with Korney, Bolly would go on to infamy in Buffalo's criminal history.
Chapter 6
Kalkiewicz
Anthony Kalkiewicz lived at 40, and later 50, Loepere Street, and then 428 Sweet Avenue. Kalkiewicz was older than Korney by almost ten years, having been born in 1896.
He was also Polish, but his parents were from the German-occupied section of Poland. Before 1910 his father had died, leaving his mother and three sisters. He was known as “Shiddy” to the boys in the neighborhood, apparently because he “ranked,” or messed up, a robbery one time.
Kalkiewicz was a time bomb. He left school at a young age. This helped to drive his desire to succeed, but there was always talk around the neighborhood that he was slow, and it was also said that he was insane. Like Korney, he was educated on the streets of Buffalo's East Side, but many said he was simply dumb.
His career choice was not one that a mother would choose for her son. In September 1914 he was convicted of second degree assault and sentenced to six months in jail.
In June 1915 he was convicted of robbery and sentenced to Auburn Prison for four to eight and one half years. In 1919 he was arrested on a charge of disorderly conduct for starting a fight at a wedding. That same year he was sent back to Auburn for a year for violating his parole by having a revolver in his house.
After his father died he was the man of the house. He took care of his sisters and mother and made sure his mother always had what she needed. He didn't work much, but was always able to help pay the bills.
“Anthony,” his mother would ask him in Polish, “how do you have money? I never see you work.”
“I work mama. Different hours, different days. You don't worry. I'll always be here to help you.”
In the neighborhood, old and young alike stayed away from Kalkiewicz. He had a quick temper and even faster fists. He got into many a fight just because he thought someone looked at him wrong. He also liked to drink and would hang out in different saloons along Sycamore Street, spending what money he did have.
On December 10, 1921 he was charged with shooting Stephen Baszynski of Eagle Street. Baszynski claimed Kalkiewicz came along, threatened him, returned and shot him in the hip. During the March 1922 trial Baszynski changed his story, saying he had been drinking and could not positively identify Kalkiewicz after all. Baszynski was later acquitted of the perjury charge.
Kalkiewicz ran things for many years on the East Side of Buffalo and was the one that most of the small time crooks came to when they wanted to move up in the criminal underworld of Buffalo. Bolly and Korney would find their way to Kalkiewicz eventually.
The coppers had busted him enough to know he was a hard case, one whose time in prison only helped to bolster his attitude and inferiority complex.
It would be many years before anyone was able to break through his hard exterior.
Chapter 7
The Gang's First Meeting
John Kwiatkowski and some other boys about 10 years old were playing stick ball in the playground at St. Adalbert Basilica on Stanislaus Street, when John eyed an older boy he'd seen around the neighborhood. He was across the yard, smoking a cigarette with some other older boys, so John wandered their way.
“Hey mister,” John asked one older boy when he got close enough.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Can I have one?”
“What, a smoke? I don't think your old lady would like that.”
“Aww, come'on, she won't know. Anyhow, I already smoke,” he persisted.
The boys all laughed as John took a cigarette and started to smoke it.
“What's yer name, mister? I seen ya around here before.”
“You have, huh? I'm Kalkiewicz, kid.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says, and juts his hand out to shake Kalkiewicz's.
“Same here, kid. Why don't you go back to yer pals, they look lonely.”
“Okay, but I'll be seeing ya around.”
“Ha. Ha. Yeah, okay kid. By the way, what's your name?”
“I'm Johnnie Kwiatkowski. But, they call me Korney.” And with that, he turned and started running back to his friends to continue playing stick ball.
“Korney, huh?” Tony said to his friend. “I think that kid needs a better name.” They all laughed.
Chapter 8
Prohibition
Gimme another shot, Slotzky,” Kalkiewicz was slurring to the bartender. It was 11:30 P.M. on January 15, 1920. At midnight the Prohibition Act would take effect, changing the lives of millions of people across America.
Every saloon, every restaurant, every dive in Buffalo was pulling out all the stops. If they couldn't sell it, they might as well drink it.
Kalkiewicz had just gotten out of Auburn Prison after serving five years. He was sent up for four in 1915, and was arrested shortly after he got out and sent up for another year, so every drink tasted like forbidden nectar, and he wasn't about to stop until they threw him out, or it was all gone.
“Hey mister, buy me a drink?” the young man asked Kalkiewicz, pushing his way next to him.
“Do I know you?” Kalkiewicz asked, his eyes blurry.
“You don't remember me?”
“No, kid. But truthfully, I don't remember much tonight.”
“Korney,” he said.
Kalkiewicz's eyes lit up. “Hell yeah, I remember you kid. Bartender, a drink for my friend here. You are old enough to drink, aren't you? What was your name again?”
Korney had finally grown to be a man, at over six feet tall. “Yeah, just turned 18,” Korney lied, “and it's Korney.” He was just 16, but his size was deceiving.
For the next hour or so they sat and drank, and talked about the neighborhood. It turned out they knew many of the same people. Most everyone knew each other in the close knit community of Buffalo's East Side.
Slotzky didn't close the bar at midnight like he was legally obligated to. He did lock the door, shut off the outside lights, and pull the shades.
Eventually Kalkiewicz and Korney started talking about crime. Tony was more experienced, but John had done some of his own.
“How about ya come by some night and we'll see if you're as good as you say,” Kalkiewicz told him.
“I think I will, Kalkiewicz. Thanks for the drinks. I gotta get going.”
“Okay Korney, I'll see ya around.”
With that Korney headed for the door. He thanked Slotzky for the drinks and closed the door behind him. Slotzky made sure it was locked after he left.
It was a cold, crisp winter night. The street lights shone on the snowy street, the snow crunched under Korney's boots as he walked, his breath escaping in little white steamy clouds.
He walked slowly down Sycamore Street towards his house. Ideas about a gang and hanging out with Kalkiewicz ran through his head.
Then he remembered his mother might be up waiting for him and he picked up the pace.
Chapter 9
Big Hammer
Kalkiewicz and his gang were planning to rob the safe from a grocery store on Lathrop Street. As tough as he was, he wasn't smart enough to go to another neighborhood to do his jobs. He usually stuck close to home because he knew the targets and the neighborhood, which made escape easy.
A few of Kalkiewicz's gang, Lawrence Trimpa, Joseph Bartkowiak, and Edward Larkman, were together planning the job.
He was staying with his sister and brother-in-law at their house on Houghton Street. While they were talking, there was a knock at the door.
“It'll be quick,” Kalkiewicz said. “We'll break in the side door. The safe is behind the counter. It's not too big, we'll just grab it and run. Get that door Larkie.”
Larkman got up and answered the door.
“It's that kid, Korney.”
“Well, let him in, see what he wants.”
“Hi Kalkiewicz,” Korney said.
“Hey Kid, what brings you 'round here?” The other three thugs eyed Korney up.
“You said to come by and I could help you out some time.”
“Okay kid,” he said, “we're just planning a little job and could use some extra muscle.”
They filled Korney in on the plan. “When we get back to the garage, Trimpa and Barto can break it open. Everyone set? You got that Korney?”
“Sure. No problem. You just tell me what to do.”
“Then let's go.”
Breaking in the store was easy. The door popped right open and they were in within a minute. The safe was where Kalkiewicz had said it would be, but it wasn't as easy to grab as he thought.
“Goddam! This safe is heavy!” Kalkiewicz said. “Korney, get over here. You get on that side, Trimpa over here, and we'll pull it out. Ready, set, now!”
They grabbed the safe and pulled, Korney practically pulled the safe out himself. “Damn you're strong kid,” Barto said.
“Never mind that,” Kalkiewicz said, “let's get the hell outta here.”
Korney and Barto carried the safe, Korney carrying the bulk of it, out to Kalkiewicz's waiting car. Larkman looked out to make sure no one was on the street. He had parked in the alley next to the store, so they were pretty much hidden.
When they got to the garage, Kalkiewicz and Barto showed Korney how to crack open a safe. It was a skill he would use many more times in the future.
When the door popped open, Kalkiewicz pushed them aside to look inside.
“Watch out now, let me see what we got.” He opened the safe and found fifty dollars in currency and five dollars in coin. “Dammit. Not exactly Fort Knox, but it'll have to do.”
Kalkiewicz split the money with his three gang members. He looked at Korney and said “Nice work kid. You like to work with me on a regular basis? I could use your muscle.” He handed him five dollars. “Next time, there'll be more.”
“Thanks Kalkiewicz. Yeah, I'd like to.”
“Have a drink, kid. I think we got us a new member boys.”
The five men drank shots of whisky and joked. Korney was now a member of Kalkiewicz's gang, and he couldn't be happier.
The Kalkiewicz gang worked on and off for some months during the early 1920s.
Then two of the gang got picked up and sent away. Edward Larkman was the only one in town, along with Korney. Kalkiewicz decided to see if Korney knew of some guys they could work with.
“Sure I do,” he said. “A couple pals of mine have been working together for a while.”
“Well then, let's meet'em. I wanna see if they can take the heat of some real jobs.”
Korney was excited. He got Stephen “Bolly” Ziolkowski, Zygmund “Ziggy” Plocharski, and Victor Chojnicki together with his boss to see if he liked them, and everything started to gel.
Kalkiewicz had a job in mind after meeting Korney's gang. “It was a grocery store safe, I don't remember when,” but it was sometime in 1923 or 1924.
Their safe cracking techniques had changed over time, Korney coming up with quicker ways to access the money.
After they broke into the store, Bolly and Korney gained entry to the safe “by cracking the spindle off with a hammer and pin...a big hammer.”
The biggest safe job they ever pulled gave them “a couple hundred apiece.” This was from the Working Girls Home on East North Street. They broke in shortly before Christmas 1925, and stole almost $1,000 ($12,184). Kalkiewicz said:
It was a little light, about 8 o'clock. The store was closed and we entered through the side door.
The safe was in a small room by the store. It was a pretty big safe. Korney drove the pin into the spindle, Joe Kornacki held the sledge hammer.
When the spindle broke, we opened the safe door and grabbed the money and left.
We headed over to Korney's place on Sycamore and split the cash.
Kalkiewicz would admit to over 40 safe heists over the years, “mostly on the East Side,” and “once in a while” they broke into a house, when it appeared to be the easiest target.
On several occasions, different members had been picked up by the police, suspected of different crimes. In fact, they were all questioned at one time or another by the Buffalo Police. But no one ever cracked, and no crime was ever pinned on them.
They had the almost perfect gang.
Chapter 10
Born Leaders
Korney and Kalkiewicz were almost ten years apart, but they had one thing in common – they were both leaders. They hung in different circles, but ran in the same neighborhood. The East Side neighborhood they were in was just a few blocks either way.
Kalkiewicz had the usual gang of three or four guys, depending on the job, Trimpa, Bartkowiak, Larkman, and Kornacki.
Korney was working on and off with Bolly, Ziggy, and Chojnicki.
There were other outfits working the East Side, as well as talk of the Italians on the West Side moving to the East Side, and some were located in the Swan Street area, but that was further south and not really in their neighborhood.
Both gangs did similar jobs, the occasional house burglary, store safes. Korney started leaning towards stolen cars and bigger ideas. He liked to plan things out methodically. He was smart and tough, but always kind to people in the neighborhood.
Kalkiewicz was a hard ass and didn't socialize much outside of his close friends. He always seemed to get in trouble. He was sent to Rochester Industrial School in 1913 and always seemed to be involved in fistfights.
Sometimes it was over a girl, sometimes over a drink. One time a guy didn't pay after losing a pool game and Kalkiewicz knocked him out. He spent the night in jail, but no charges were pressed, so he was released.
Korney was clever. He was rarely caught, and he was never suspected of being the leader of a gang of thugs. The elderly folks in his neighborhood all loved him. He was sweet to the ladies and courteous to the men, always willing to help someone in need.
He dressed well, spending much of the money he stole on better clothes. That was in complete contrast to Kalkiewicz, who wore the same brown overcoat and battered hat for years.
Chapter 11
August 1925, Women
Kalkiewicz noticed something was different. He had been working with Korney a few years, and liked the kid, but lately Korney had been coming up with more jobs. He had been planning them out, then going to Kalkiewicz with the idea. It seemed that Bolly and the others always knew the plans before he did.
The jobs that Korney planned were usually bigger, and usually paid off better than the ones that Kalkiewicz planned. In fact, Kalkiewicz usually didn't have a plan. He waited until he was almost broke then hastily picked some store or house to ransack.
Korney, on the other hand, was always looking for a better job, something that would be the big payday.
The gang was at Kalkiewicz's house. “Kalkiewicz,” Korney said, “tell your sister to go out.”
Kalkiewicz, surprised by Korney's order, hesitated for a moment. “Just who the hell do you think you are, ordering me around, kid?”
“Whoa, hold it Kalkiewicz -”
“I don't like you ordering me Korney.”
“All I meant is that women ain't got no reason to be around when we're planning jobs. They're just big mouths and of no use. I meant no disrespect.”
Kalkiewicz was still enraged, but Korney's calm tone was easy to agree with.
“Okay.” Then Kalkiewicz got up, still wondering about Korney, and went into the parlor to ask his sister to run to the store to pick up some cigarettes for him.
When he returned, he sat down and expected to start planning his next job, a house on Sweet Avenue.
“Okay, she's gone for a while. I saw this house over by-”
“Hold on, hold on. I think I got something better than a small house job. This could be payday us,” Korney said.
There were a few things that Korney was adamant about. “A dead man tells no tales” was one thing he would say. Also, women were not allowed to know nothing. Abiding by his own rules, Korney never told any girl what he was doing.
Kalkiewicz was still wondering about Korney. He always did have good plans, though. He'd just wait and see what this job brought them.
Chapter 12
August 1925, Planning
Victor Chojnicki had tipped Korney off to a possible job at the Art Work Shop at 828 East Ferry Street. Chojnicki knew this factory had plenty of workers, which meant plenty of money on-hand on payday, because he worked there. This was to be their first big-time knock off.
He told Korney that Wednesday was payday, so the payroll office would be filled with thousands of dollars in cash stacked in envelopes for the workers.
For several weeks they cased the joint, watching the coming and goings of everyone. They marked down times and dates so they were sure they had everything right. They checked this against the inside information they had from Chojnicki.
This would be a big job so joining them would be a goon of Korney's, a shady character known only as Smithy. He said he was from a Chicago gang and had met Korney at one of the seedy joints they frequented, but that's all anyone knew about him.
According to Kalkiewicz, this was the first job he did with the Korney gang. Korney and Bolly had laid out the plan for this job, so they needed the extra hands to pull it off.
A couple days before the heist, Kalkiewicz met Smithy, a Chicago gangster and friend of Korney's, for the first time at Leon Kosek's soft drinkery at 1134 Sycamore Street.
Smithy was sitting in a booth with Korney. They exchanged pleasantries, but not much more. Korney “had New York and Chicago connections and made frequent trips to both cities,” which may be how they met.
Late on the night of July 28 the gang gathered once again to add another component to their plan – the getaway car they would need for the big heist.
Korney, Bolly, Kalkiewicz, and Kornacki were looking for the right car to suit their needs. As they cruised around the East Side in Korney's big Buick, they came upon a Cadillac at 100 Keystone Street. It was owned by milkman William Groth, someone they all knew from the neighborhood.
At Kalkiewicz's command Kornacki jumped out of the Buick, and quickly slid behind the wheel of the Cadillac. He started the car and pulled away. At the same time Bolly slid into the driver's seat of the Buick and sped off behind Kornacki.
The house was a few doors from the corner of Walden Avenue and they quickly turned onto Walden and headed towards downtown. With all eyes looking out for police, they turned down Sycamore where it meets Walden and finally turned right on Lathrop Avenue.
Kornacki pulled the Cadillac into the back lot of one of the factories that lined the East Side of Lathrop Street. The street faced the rail yards, making it a pretty good hiding location for the car.
Bolly followed him into the lot, and after Kornacki parked the car he got into the back seat of the Buick. They quickly left. The Cadillac would be waiting for them when they were ready for it.
A week before the robbery, Wednesday August 5, 1925, the gang gathered to case the Art Work Shop one last time, to make sure they hadn't missed anything.
They met at Korney's place on Sycamore Street and, with the exception of Smithy, piled into Korney's Buick for the ride over. Kornacki drove them, while Smithy followed in his own car.
They arrived around 5:30 P.M. Kornacki slowly drove slowly down the street as they watched the employes leaving the plant after receiving their paychecks.
Kalkiewicz closely watched the doors, looking for the location of the security guards. They all sat back in their seats, hats pulled down on their heads, covering their faces.
After they reached the end of the block Korney said, “Okay, I'm ready. You all ready?” Bolly, Kornacki, and Kalkiewicz all said yes. This was to be their break into the big time and it would take more than a hammer and chisel to complete this job.
Chapter 13
August 1925, Art Work Shop
The Art Work Shop was a manufacturer of vanity and smoking cases, as well as automobile parts. It was “the congenial manufacturer of artistic furniture” and it was located in the gang's neighborhood.
Ward J. Pierce was, by all accounts, an average man. He was was company secretary, treasurer, and paymaster of the Art Work Shop.
On Wednesday August 12, 1925 Pierce had just finished the breakfast of eggs, toast, homemade jam, and hot coffee his wife made for him, as she did every morning before he went to work.
The Pierce's lived at 751 Seventh Street on Buffalo's West Side. He usually drove his car across the city to the factory about seven o'clock in the morning. He liked to get an early start, check the books, and other minor items.
After bidding goodbye to his two young sons and his wife, he got into his car for the ride to the factory. He usually drove to North Street then to Main Street, then would drive north until he reached Ferry Street, one of the few streets that crosses the entire city, west to east, and drive to the factory. In all, the drive took about 20 minutes.
The ride was usually uneventful, except for the occasional broke down automobile.
On Wednesday's when Pierce arrived at work, he made sure to double check the payroll tally so when the money arrived by armored car, he would be ready to pay the 300 employees.
Mrs. Otto A. Oetinger was one of the secretary's in Pierce's office at the factory. She was a young girl, but very capable at her job. Come payday she would assist him in handing out the payroll to the employees.
“Good morning, Mr. Pierce,” she said when she arrived at work a little before eight o'clock. “It's a beautiful day, isn't it?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Oetinger. Yes it is. In fact, I believe I will be taking Mrs. Pierce to dinner tonight by the lake to enjoy the beautiful view.”
“Oh, that should be fun. Well, I better get to work.”
“I believe it will be. Yes, we must make sure the payroll is ready, you know how ugly these factor workers get if it's not correct!”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
With that Mrs. Oetinger went to her desk, and Ward Pierce went back to checking figures. It would be a long day, but he had plans to spend a nice evening with his wife, so the day went by quickly.
That same day the gang gathered at Kalkiewicz's apartment on Houghton Street. They were preparing for the robbery and spoke in whispers. This was bigger than cracking safes and could be their biggest score to date.
About 4:45 P.M. they piled into Korney's Buick and drove over to the Lathrop Street lot where they had left the Cadillac a few weeks earlier. The car was still there, and hadn't been touched. Korney, Smithy, Bolly, and Kornacki got out of the Buick and into the Cadillac.
Kalkiewicz drove the Buick out of the lot and left it on Lathrop Street where they would have easier access to exchange cars after the robbery.
It was about five o'clock when they headed out for the ride to the Art Work Shop. Kornacki drove, and everyone was a little anxious. They had gone over the plan a number of times.
“We all know what to do, right?” Kalkiewicz finally said, breaking the silence. They all nodded. Smithy added, “This should be an easy job. I've done a few like this back in Chicago.”
“As long as no one panics we should pull this off without a hitch,” Korney said. They drove around the neighborhood where the plant was located, and waited.
“We drove up and down,” Kalkiewicz would later recall, finally stopping “about 200 feet” from the office. They parked, waiting for the signal that Victor Chojnicki had told them to look for. When the employe door opened, the employes had just started to receive their paychecks.
It was now about 5:30 P.M. and the plant whistle went off, signaling the end of the first shift. The 300 employes of the Art Work Shop began lining up for their pay.
Suddenly, the door opened. “Let's do it!” Korney yelled to them and started out of the car. The rest of them jumped out of the car, except Kornacki, who sat in the driver' seat with the engine running, waiting for his partners to return. Kalkiewicz stood lookout by the car, while Bolly, Korney, and Smithy made their way to the office.
Each had donned amber colored, horn-rimmed glasses, and pulled their hats down low on their faces, doing the best to conceal their identities. Korney wore a gray cap and gray suit with pencil stripes. Bolly and Smithy were dressed in dark clothes. They all carried revolvers.
The payroll office was set up on the first floor, near the front doors so the employes could exit the building after getting their pay.
Mrs. Oetinger was seated at the desk, while Ward Pierce stood by as she handed out the envelopes to the employes.
The three bandits entered the office quickly, revolvers drawn. Mrs. Oetinger saw them almost immediately, as they thrust their guns in her face. Simultaneously they yelled “Stick'em up!”
Mrs. Oetinger recalled the event later:
I was sitting at a little table just inside the shop entrance. The tin box containing the pay envelopes was before me. As Mr. Pierce called each employes number, the man or woman would approach and I would hand out that person's envelope.
Just as the first number was called by Mr. Pierce, that door opened and three men filed in.
As soon as I noticed they all carried revolvers the thought flashed through my mind that they were payroll bandits.
At the same time Korney ordered Pierce to “raise your hands,” his gun pointing right at Pierce's chest. As he started to raise his hands Mrs. Oetinger “threw the tin box with all my might into the far corner of the room,” distracting the bandits momentarily. Mrs. Oetinger then ran screaming from the room, leaving Ward Pierce and the employes alone with the bandits.
Korney and Bolly watched as the tin box spilled the envelopes all over the floor. Pierce started to reach for his revolver when Smithy yelled, “he's going for his gun!” Bolly turned and fired first, then Korney and Smithy opened fire at Pierce, hitting him in the abdomen and right arm. An employe, Stephen Wojciechowski, was also struck by a stray bullet.
As Pierce fell to the floor, the petrified employes stood by while the three bandits ran to the corner and scooped up as many envelopes as they could carry.
Another employe ran from the upstairs office and grabbed the envelopes the bandits didn't take and ran back upstairs to put them in the safe.
Kalkiewicz and Kornacki were still waiting at the car when they heard the shots. They were looking at each other when Bolly, Smithy, and lastly Korney, came running out of the office.
“Smithy was carrying money in his arms and Bolly had some,” Kalkiewicz said. Korney was watching their backs as they ran to the car, his gun pointing at the office. “Everyone stay still,” he yelled to the employes still there.
They jumped into the stolen Caddy, Kornacki revving the engine. “Hurry!” he yelled, nervous about the shots, and knowing the police couldn't be far behind.
As Korney got into the car Kornacki jammed on the gas, the door slamming shut as they sped from the scene, rubber squealing, going west on East Ferry Street.
Kornacki sped to the spot where they had left Korney's Buick on Lathrop Street. Kalkiewicz, Smithy, and Korney jumped from the Caddy and got into the Buick, leaving the other two behind.
Kornacki and Bolly drove the Cadillac to Lang's Brewery, 400 Best Street at Jefferson Avenue, got out, and walked to the corner to catch a streetcar. All this took just a few minutes.
Korney drove his car, it was about six o'clock when they arrived at Kalkiewicz's house. “Make sure you get all the envelopes,” Korney said. “Stuff them in your pockets so they can't be seen.” They went to Kalkiewicz's room and put the envelopes in a drawer of a bureau.
About an hour later Bolly and Kornacki arrived by streetcar. “Immediately there began a general discussion of the whole affair – what each had done, what had happened, how it happened and why. Everybody was angry with Bolly. They accused him of starting the shooting. Korney declared Bolly was nervous and had 'let go' without proper cause.” He didn't mention that he had also participated in the shooting.
After the argument, they took the envelopes from the drawer and opened them, making one pile of money and one of empty envelopes.
“Damn! It's too bad we didn't get more of them,” Kalkiewicz said.
Korney smiled as he saw the money piling up on the bed. “Not a bad job, eh Shiddy?” Korney had started to call him by his hated nickname.
“No, it was a good heist Korney, glad you found it.”
“Well, Victor did help out. Knowing exactly when the pay envelopes would be passed out was the key.”
Korney was pleased. “Not bad, boys. If the old man didn't reach for his gun it would have been almost perfect.”
Kalkiewicz was impressed too. “Hey kid, this was a good gig. You think you killed the old man?”
“I doubt it,” Smithy added. “He fell fast. You shoulda seen how fast we blasted him!”
“You're hard, Korney. I like it,” Kalkiewicz said.
About 11 o'clock the bandits prepared to leave, and Korney pocketed the hundreds of bills, all $1,966.10 ($23,956) of it. The overturned tin box had contained $8,800 ($107,224), of which they had left most behind in their haste to leave. Kalkiewicz stared at him as he stuffed his pockets.
“You don't want your sister or brother-in-law to find it, Shiddy,” Korney said. “I'll keep it at my place.
“Why don't we go over to Kosek's for a beer. I'm buying,” Korney said, a big smile on his boyish face.
“I'm beat, but thanks,” Kalkiewicz said. The others left and Kalkiewicz changed into clean clothes. He looked at the pile of envelopes strewn across his bed, some on the floor. He decided he had better get rid of them before his sister or brother-in-law saw them. He gathered them all up, the names of employees and the dollar amounts staring him in the face. He took the envelopes and burned them in the kitchen stove.
Kalkiewicz put his robbery clothes in a clothes basket and closed the door to his room. Tired after a long, exciting day, he laid down on his bed, the same bed where the stolen money had been counted a short while earlier. As he fell asleep he thought about Korney, and how he was proving to be even harder than he had thought. Shooting Pierce was not anticipated, but Korney said they had no choice, “It was us or him,” he had said. Korney was proving to be a real leader in the gang, and his utter disregard for human life was beginning to show.
Chapter 14
On the Lookout
The following day the headlines screamed loudly about the bloody and bold battle that had taken place at the Art Work Shop.
POLICE COMB CITY FOR FOUR BANDITS
Buffalo Evening News 8-13-1925
PAYROLL BANDITS STILL AT LARGE
Daily Courier 8-14-1925
Korney saw the headlines as he passed the newsstand on Sycamore. The Buffalo Evening News, Daily Courier, and Times were all reporting the big holdup from the previous day.
Korney was heading home when his neighbor, Mr. Stawazinski, stopped him. “Hello Johnnie. How you doing?” he asked in his heavy Polish accent.
“Good morning Mr. Stawazinski. I'm doing great. How about you, sir?”
“Good, my boy. Dat's a fine looking suit you have on dere Johnnie.”
“Thank you, sir. I do like nice clothes.”
“Can I trouble you ta help me move dis box in my garage?”
“Of course.” And for the next few minutes Korney helped his neighbor move a large, heavy box from one side of his garage to the other.
“Thank you, Johnnie. Tell your mama and papa I say hello.”
“Will do, Mr. Stawazinski,” he said as he walked away smiling.
The papers reported “every available detective has been assigned to the case. Police Chief Higgins instructed the detectives to make a close check-up on pool rooms, drinkeries, road houses and all other places where persons of questionable character are likely to loiter or frequent.”
The stolen Cadillac was recovered by the Buffalo Police in the grounds of Lang's Brewery the following morning. “It was bone of clues. On the floor reposed a lone penny dropped there by one of the gunmen-bandits.”
When Korney walked in the side door of his house, his mother called to him in Polish. She said that Stephen was waiting in the kitchen.
“Hi Bolly,” Korney said as he entered.
“Hey Korney. You seen this?” He held up the News headline.
“Yeah, just saw it on the way here. Shame they didn't catch the guys.”
The two bandits laughed as Korney poured a cup of hot coffee his mother had made. “Listen to this,” Bolly said as he read aloud. “The robbery was the work of a desperate band of out-of-town thieves who were lured here by the prospects of a rich strike.”
They both laughed out loud. “If they only knew,” Korney said between sips of his strong coffee. “The East Side's Polish kings were behind it,” he exclaimed, fist raised in the air. Again they laughed.
The Times reported: “The hold-up itself rivals any in the annals of the local police department for calm nerve and cold-blooded tactics.”
Several witnesses immediately came forward, including several employes and people that were outside at the time of the daring robbery.
Miss Dorothy Littlewort was waiting to pick her father up from work and noticed the Cadillac parked near her car before they entered the factory. She described “the first man, apparently the leader, as about twenty-five years old, blonde and slender. He wore a gray cap, gray suit with pencil stripe.” Littlewort would end up being the star witness. She said the killer wore dark glasses.
Other employes gave statements to the police, including Victor Chojnicki, their inside man for the robbery, though he never gave the police much information. Another was John D. Russell, day watchman. Several others had witnessed the entire episode and gave police statements.
The employe who was struck by a stray bullet received just a minor wound, and it was believed that Ward J. Pierce would survive his gunshots.
“Here Bolly, I have something for you.” He pulled out an envelope with three hundred dollars ($3,458) in it. “Thanks, Korney. Think I'll take my girl to the picture show this weekend.”
All was well on Buffalo's East Side.
Chapter 15
The Envelope
Two days after the robbery, Kalkiewicz was walking down Sycamore Street in the early evening, when Korney's Buick pulled up next to him. They were at the corner of Woltz Avenue.
“Get in,” Korney said from the rolled down passenger window. Kalkiewicz leaned down and looked in the car and saw that Bolly was driving. “C'mon, get in,” Korney said again, perturbed that Kalkiewicz didn't move quick enough.
He got into the back seat and Bolly pulled into traffic. Not much was said as they drove around the East Side streets. Bolly kept his eyes on the road and Korney told Bolly where to turn.
Kalkiewicz couldn't figure out where they were going.
Finally, Korney pulled an envelope from his jacket breast pocket and handed it over the seat to Kalkiewicz, never looking back. Kalkiewicz glanced at it for a moment, then took it. When he opened it, there was $250 ($3,046), his take from the robbery.
“I've got $100 ($1,218) for Chojnicki too,” Korney said. “We're going to see him now, it's worth every penny.” Kalkiewicz didn't have to ask why. Bolly pulled over, and Kalkiewicz got out of the Buick.
He stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Two hundred fifty dollars? For that job? And Korney got, what, $1,900 ($23,150)? It hardly seemed worth it. He was on Walden Avenue, so he walked to a nearby saloon and ordered a beer. Oh, and Victor was not really on their to-do list.
Chapter 16
August 1925, Paymaster
Ward J. Pierce died from the gunshot wound he received during the holdup at the Art Work Shop, and suddenly, everything changed.
Police redoubled their efforts to seize the men who perpetrated the hold-up. A reward of $1,000 ($11,827) has been offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the four killers by the company.
The gang of bandits all now faced first degree murder charges, if caught, with punishment by death in the electric chair.
Half of the personnel of the detective bureau is working on the scant leads obtained. Chief Higgins said yesterday (Friday, August 15, 1925). He is confident that the identity or at least one member of the robber gang will be known within a short time.
(The Police believed it was) the same gang who held up the paymaster of the Guilford Street plant of the Duffy Silk Mills several weeks ago.
It appeared the police dragnet was starting to tighten around the gang's necks.
Chapter 17
February 1926, Edward
The gang took a well-needed vacation, spending time in New York, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and Chicago. Edward J. Larkman was not one of those men. He was living at 689 Eagle Street and knew who Korney and his gang were, but didn't generally associate with them.
Larkman went to School 31, St. Stanislaus, and Saints Peter and Paul Polish schools. He dropped out in the seventh grade and worked a variety of odd jobs. He was also a career petty thief, having been arrested 28 times, the first in 1912 for truancy. He was by far no angel.
In 1923 he spent six months in the Erie County Penitentiary for non-support and in 1924 he was arrested and charged with second degree rape while living with his 17 year-old common law wife. Two days before the girl, Thelma Bean, turned 18, her father had her arrested for consorting with a criminal and she was sentenced to six months in the Salvation Army home. After she turned 18 and before Larkman was sentenced, they were married. After serving 15-½ months in prison, he was released.
On the night of the Art Work Shop holdup he said, “I was at a wedding eating and drinking and dancing,” and had driven relatives to and from the wedding on Perry Street.
Around August 19, 1925 “Me and Joey Marusza and Harold Latshaw” were on Bond Street, waiting for a load of beer. The cops rushed the truck they were sitting in, so they all ran.
Me and Latshaw ran to Fillmore Avenue. I found out later they caught Joey. I sat on Lord Street for about two hours after the cops chased us, then I went to my house. My wife told me the police had been there again looking for me. That night when I looked in the paper I saw Joey Marusza'a picture and my name saying I was wanted in connection with the Pierce murder.
The police didn't have positive proof that Larkman was the man for the Art Work Shop murder, but over time he was constantly picked up for questioning and harassed.
Larkman stayed in hiding and met up with a taxi driver named Gerald Nugent, who agreed to drive him to Toledo, Ohio.
I told him the police would frame me yet. Once, a probation officer told me it would be a good thing for me to get out of town if I wanted to make good. In Toledo, we parted company.
When a witness positively identified Larkman as one of the bandits, the police followed leads for months, until they tracked him down in a Detroit motel in early January 1926. It was an uneventful arrest. Larkman “waived examination and returned voluntarily to Buffalo to clear himself of the charge.” He gave police a statement upon his return to Buffalo and thought his iron-clad alibi would be his saving grace, but not so.
On February 24, 1926 jury selection began in his murder trial, with the trial commencing immediately thereafter. Crowds filled the courtroom at Supreme Court. One of those chosen to sit on the jury was Thomas L. Holling, who would go on to be mayor of Buffalo in 1938. District Attorney Guy B. Moore prosecuted the case, Wortley B. Paul was defense counsel, and Justice Charles H. Brown presided.
One of the prosecution's star witnesses was Dorothy Littlewort, who was outside the Art Work Shop and witnessed the bandits as they arrived and left. She positively identified Larkman as one of the men “because he walked like a boy she used to know.”
After police forced Larkman to put on dark glasses, she identified him as the killer.
District Attorney Guy B. Moore asked Littlewort if she knew how crucial her testimony was to the trial. “Yes, I realize it. I am sure this is the man. Even if 15 witnesses came here and said he was not there, I would still be positive.” Damning testimony against Larkman.
This, however, was countered by the testimony of one Edward Lock, who admitted to knowing Larkman for ten years. He had also been waiting outside the Art Work Shop for his wife at the time of the robbery and saw three of the men who staged the holdup. He swore Larkman “was not one of the bandits.”
Then Lock made an astounding accusation:
(Police) Chief Higgins and Zimmerman got me in an office and shut the door. They would not let my brother in. They told me they had the positive dope on the Pierce murder and knew that Eddie Larkman and Joe Marusza had pulled it. They said that all I had to do was sign a statement to this effect and that the $3,000 reward offered for the capture of the murderers was mine. They told me if I would do this they would tear up my police record, get me a job as a taxicab driver and made a lot of other promises to me. But I wouldn't do it, because Eddie wasn't there.
This was an astounding tale and made headlines across the city's newspapers. Of course, both police chiefs went on record to state that no such meeting ever occurred. But why would he have made such a detailed list of items the police promised unless there was a shred of truth to it?