The Military Asks the Mob to Whack an Anti-War Protest singer: From my novel Wild Indians

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The American public was being indoctrinated into pop culture through a variety of media genera.  Elvis Presley had seduced teenagers and shocked parents with his sexuality and black sound.  The Beatles knocked Presley off the charts with their Beatle haircuts and clean new sound.  British bands dominated the hit charts on AM radio.  Black artists like the Supremes, Wilson Pickett and Sam and Dave were as popular with white teens as they were with black teenagers.  World War II propaganda movies were losing ground to B movie science fiction films.  James Bond 007 movies introduced evil criminal masterminds who attempted to impose their conspiratorial agendas on the world.  Harper Lee’s novel, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ was being read in 9th grade English classes.  The Rev. Martin Luther King was advancing the Civil Rights Movement with his peaceful marches and sit-ins.  Whites across the United States were empathetic with Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat to a white man on a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1955. Or fearful, ten years later, of an all-out race war in the United States.  The war in Vietnam was escalating, fueling a growing anti-war culture anthem delivered in the songs of folk singers and rock bands.  Pop media markets were associated with anti-war themes by the recording artists who influenced popular culture.  The older generation who fought World War II was at odds with their children who were being told in the music and pop culture media, to reject their parent’s values.  America was changing in many ways; some gradual, some turbulent and violent.  

     A young folk singer from Pennsylvania was breaking into the folk music scene with his anti-war songs.  His simple acoustic guitar playing complimented by a harmonica provided the accompaniment for his sharp and witty lyrics condemning the American way of life, politics and the civil rights movement.  Lenny Gold was strumming and singing his way onto the charts  

of AM radio.  The young folk singer was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  His father had been a bus driver who died when Lenny was ten.  His mother raised three sons and a daughter working as a waitress.  Lenny never attended college.  He left home at the age of eighteen with an acoustical guitar and a knap sack.  The kid had a talent for verbalizing in song the stories of working class Americans who struggled to survive while corrupt politicians and millionaires ignored the poverty and plight of the nation’s poor and minorities.  Lenny found an audience in New York’s Greenwich Village where his songs gained an immediate following.  Beatnik poets and college intellectuals flocked to Village coffee houses to listen to Lenny tell his stories in song.  A recording contract with a major label, seeking to exploit the nation’s new found love of folk music, came within of year of Lenny’s first performance in Greenwich Village.  Lenny recorded three folk albums is succession over a period of 18 months.  He changed the sound of his music by recording his fourth album playing an electric guitar and a backup band.

    Folk purists denounced the new sound as Lenny selling out to the AM radio big money market.  Lenny’s new sound propelled his songs to the top of the AM radio charts.  His songs were in the top ten, listed alongside hits by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Supremes, and the Byrds.  The young folk singer from Pennsylvania sold the image of a pure, incorruptible counter-culture warrior whose weapon was his searing commentary on contemporary American life put to song.  Behind the scenes, nothing could be farther from the truth.

     Lenny Gold had a vision when he left Philadelphia.  Lenny’s vision was to amass wealth and fame.  He had found a niche in popular music. He fully intended to exploit his fame to its fullest.  He carefully oversaw the production of his music.  Everything must sound pure, authentic, and not over produced by slick studio technicians.  His album covers were carefully created to portray the singer as a simple young man, void of trendy fashions or any hint of commercial pop marketing.  Within the tight knit culture of the recording industry, Lenny was known for his temper tantrums and rage directed at marketing executives and production teams who violated the young singer’s concept as how he wanted to be marketed to his fans.  He hired an attorney who shrewdly negotiated lucrative recording deals for him.  Lenny was selling his anti-American, anti-capitalist image to the public while amassing great wealth utilizing the very corporate culture he demonized in song.  Recording industry executives, attorneys, and Lenny all had a good laugh at how gullible the record buying public was.  The one entity who was a convenient target of many of Lenny’s songs was the U.S. Government, who wasn't laughing. 

      Lenny’s anti-American/anti-military lyrics were showing up on hand

made signs at anti-war rallies.  The singer’s image and lyrical content were seen as adding extra fuel to an already embarrassing situation for President Johnson’s escalation of the war in Vietnam and the expanding war time economy.  War was good business for the American economy.  Lenny Gold’s music was good business for the recording industry.  And here’s where the military and the recording industry came into conflict.  Many of the big record labels owned factories that produced more than records.  The record companies also produced plastic and hard rubber military hardware.  The recording industry was making as much from their military contracts as they were from their record sales.  In their plastic factories they produced the stocks for M-16 and M-60 automatic rifles, the hard plastic nose cones for rockets, missiles and bombs, and tens of thousands of other plastic components the military needed for equipment and weapons.  While the recording industry could live with Lenny Gold’s hypocrisy, the military could not.  The Joint Chiefs of Staff, at the direction of President Johnson, wanted Lenny Gold gone.  The record company that had Lenny’s contract refused to buckle under pressure from the military and the President.  Heated exchanges between the military and the label accomplished nothing.  Lenny Gold was still pumping out hits with his radical anti-America lyrics and raking in millions for the recording industry.  His concerts were sold out across the nation.  He was becoming the face and voice of the anti-war movement in America. 

     The military threatened to move their military plastic hardware contracts to cheaper factories overseas or in Mexico.  Their threat to the record companies was simple; get rid of Lenny Gold or loose the military contracts.  They threatened not only the label that carried Lenny Gold, but all big labels that also produced plastic hardware for the U.S. military.  The military guys figured that if one label dropped Gold, another would simply snatch him up and nothing would change.  The military had the record companies by the balls.  The record companies complained they couldn’t just drop Lenny.  They had entered into a contract with the singer that would open them up to millions in lawsuits if they dropped the singer.  There was one clause in Lenny’s contract; the death clause.  The record company would be released from the terms of Lenny’s contract should he die unexpectedly.  They were only committed to pay his royalties to his surviving family members should he meet an untimely death.  And who better to call for the untimely death of Lenny Gold than the Mafia.  The record companies and the military were both in bed with the Mafia on different levels.  The Mafia prevented union organizers from creating problems for both sides of the Lenny Gold conflict.  The Mafia made pain-in-the-ass state labor laws go away.  The Mafia got smaller plastic shops to give the military a good deal on contracts while getting their cut in the negotiations.  It made perfect sense to the military guys to bring the Mafia in to take care of

the Lenny Gold problem. 

     Lenny was on tour.  He was billed in big cities and on college campuses across the United States.  The call to take out Lenny went to Sammy Giacalone in Chicago.  Lenny was playing a concert in Chicago in a few weeks.  Giacalone kicked the idea around, but backed off when the Chicago police released a press statement about the heavy security they planned for the folk singer while he was in Chicago.  Other cities were considered, but many had problems with race riots or union strikes and didn’t want the added headaches of a police investigation into the murder of a celebrity in their city.  Sammy sent a message to Jimmy Screws, asking him if he would do the job at one of Lenny’s concert dates in Lincoln, Nebraska.  Jimmy complained about all he had on his plate in his response to Sammy.  Sammy said he thought he could get a million dollars from the military guys in payment for the hit.  Jimmy thought about it and decided, hell, why not?  A million bucks for a hit; he couldn’t pass that up. Omaha didn’t have any big plastic factories making stuff for the military.  The Fraccacreta family didn’t have any direct ties to the record companies.  Jimmy really didn’t have anything to loose.  Lenny’s Gold murder would just be another unsolved crime the cops would fumble with for a year or so and then file it away in the unsolved stack of crimes.  Jimmy sent a message back to Sammy he’d do it.  Sammy sent another message back to Jimmy; there was one hitch.  President Johnson wanted Lenny Gold to be killed on stage, while he was performing.  It was just a personal touch the President insisted on since he felt he was the one essentially paying for the hit.

     Jimmy dropped the Lenny Gold hit in Orfia’s lap.  Orfia considered a number of ways to take out a controversial celebrity on stage in front of thousands of people.  He thought about rigging a heavy light rack hanging out of sight above the singer to drop on Gold while he was performing.  Orfia knew such an accident would open a torrent of lawsuits.  There was too much liability to the Fraccacreta family who ran the Lincoln Civic Auditorium through layers of buffers.  Orfia decided if the hit had to go down while Gold was on stage, then it would have to be done with a shot from the crowd.  Orfia sent a couple of his guys to Boston to see a Lenny Gold concert.  Gold’s Omaha concert was six weeks away.  Orfia watched newsreels of Gold arriving at airports, being mobbed by fans, and some footage of him performing.  There was an element of fan hysteria in the audience in front of the stage but nothing as intense as Beatlemania, with female fans literally fainting in the audience while the rest of audience was screaming and going nuts.  Orfia decided he would have a shooter take out Gold from the audience.  Orfia feared a sniper firing from the ceiling of the auditorium or from the very back would be easily captured by the Lincoln police providing security at the concert.  He opted for

recruiting a local criminal wanna-be who wanted to be made by the Fraccacreta family.  The family was always dealing with small time hoods who thought they were mob material.  Orfia wanted the most persistent, weasel faced, punk who would do anything to get into the Fraccacreta family.  A guy like that wouldn’t be hard to find. 

     Arty Schmoltz was the guy.  Arty was a literal pain-in-the-ass-do-anything-wanna-be-hood who desperately wanted to be a Fraccacreta wise guy.   He was 29 years-old, young enough to be a fan of Gold’s music. Arty could never be a made guy in the Mafia.  He wasn’t Italian or Sicilian.  Arty was a heroin addict.  He was dumb as a post and most importantly, he was expendable.  Other than hanging around some of the Fraccacreta bars and being a general nuisance, Arty had no direct ties to the family.  The small time hood’s arrest record chronicled a young man’s life of addiction, small time crimes and time in jail.  Orfia puts out the word to bait Schmoltz and get him ready for the hit on Gold.  Lenny Gold’s Omaha concert was now 5 weeks away.

     Schmoltz gets a crash course on how to be a gangster in 1965.  Orfia’s guys start to take a ‘liking’ to Arty.  They buy him a few drinks and make him feel like he’s finally crossed that unseen barrier of being ‘let inside’ the tight knit clique of Fraccacreta soldiers.  There were a few guys who weren’t in the family that were regulars and friends of the Fraccacreta mob.  Arty had finally arrived.  On the third night of drinking with Orfia’s guys, he was taken to a back room and given a couple suits like the ones the real wise guys were wearing.  The next day he shows up wearing the suit, black sunglasses and a new haircut. Arty had light blond hair and looked more like an undertaker than a wise guy.  Orfia’s guys gave him a couple of pairs of shiny, black dress shoes to complete the wise guy look. They gave him a couple of dime bags of heroin ‘on the house’. After a week of hanging out with the guys, Arty went to a warehouse where he fired a .38 revolver with his new friends.  The wise guys were drinking beer and target practicing with their hand guns.  Arty fired the handgun at a target at 20 feet.  The wise guys instructed him on how to shoot and actually hit what he was aiming at.  Arty was in wanna-be heaven.  He had finally made it.  He was living the life of a gangster even though he wasn’t Italian and hadn’t been made an official Fraccacreta family member.

   Gold’s Lincoln concert was now three weeks away.  Orfia had Arty brought into the ‘L’ Street office.  He was led to an empty chair across from Orfia’s desk. Arty Schmoltz had never been in Orfia’s ‘L’ Street office before.  He knew this was the Fraccacreta capo’s center of operations.  Arty sat alone in the office.  He was nervous yet excited at being inside the office.  He waited

a few moments alone sitting in front of Orfia’s desk.  He heard a door opening at the rear of the office.  Mr. Orfia, the new Fraccacreta capo appeared in the doorway, closed the door behind him and walked over to Arty.  Arty stood up, instinctively knowing that he should stand in the presence of the family’s capo. Orfia extended his hand to Arty.

“Thank you for coming,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t know what to say. 

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” was all Arty could think of to say.

     Orfia walked around his chair behind his desk and sat down.  Orfia leaned over his desk and motioned for Arty to move his chair in closer.  Orfia took Arty into his confidence on an operation the family was putting together.  Orfia explained that all Fraccacreta wise guys had to prove themselves to the family before being considered for indoctrination into the organization.  Arty was silent.  He was listening and not yapping his head off for probably the first time in his adult life.  Orfia asked Arty if he was interested in doing this one thing for the Fraccacreta family.  Orfia said he would personally make a recommendation to the Fraccacreta don, Jimmy Screws that Arty be made a family member, if he did this one favor for the family.  This was the first time the don of the family had been mentioned.  Arty was silent for a moment.  His dream of being a Mafia wise guy was coming true.

“I have a question,” Arty asked Orfia.

“What’s that?” Orfia asked.

“How can I be made a family member if I’m not Italian?” Arty asked.

“We did some checking into your family tree,” Orfia answered.  He was lying, but he knew anything he said that sweetened the offer would be readily accepted by Arty as fact.

“You’re parents both have Italian roots from northern Italy,” Orfia said.  Arty remained silent.

“Yeah, you have enough Italian blood to qualify for being a made man,” Orfia said.

“What about my last name?  It’s not Italian,” Arty said.

“You’re great grandfather’s mother’s last name was Rossi.  She was from

Isonzo.   She married a guy name Schmoltz from Hungary.  We’ll change your last name to Rossi.  We can do that to get you in.  You okay with that?” Orfia asked Arty.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine with me,” Arty said.

“Okay, don’t worry about the blood thing.  We got that covered.  You’ll need some walking around cash.  Will five-thousand get you by until we do the ceremony in 4 or 5 weeks?” Orfia asked.  Arty had never had more than a thousand dollars to his name.  His mind was racing with the implications of being a Fraccacreta soldier.  He thought if the family was willing to lay five grand on him until he was officially in the family, then he must be looking at a lot more money once he was a made man, a real wise guy.

“Yeah, five grand will be good.  Thank you Mr. Orfia,” Arty answered.  Orfia took an envelope out of his desk and slide it across the desk to Arty.  Arty didn’t reach out for the envelope.  He was unsure what he should do.

“Go ahead, take it kid.  There will be more once you get officially made,” Orfia said.  Arty took the envelope and held it in his hands. 

“This is what we need done,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t say anything.  He was both scared and excited.  He was thinking that whatever the family needed to be done, he would do it.  He would do whatever Mr. Orfia wanted him to do.

“You know who Lenny Gold is?” Orfia asked.

“Yeah, he’s a big star.  I hear his songs on the radio,” Arty said.

“Good.  You’re a smart kid.  I knew you were the right guy for this deal,” Orfia said.

“Whatever you need, Mr. Orfia.  I’ll do whatever you need done,” Arty said.

“Good, here’s what we want.  We want you to clip Gold at his Lincoln concert in three weeks.  Can you handle that?” Orfia asked.  Arty was so hyped with the money and being in Orfia’s office that he answered immediately without thinking.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Arty answered. 

“Good.  Keep this under your hat. No one outside of the family can know

about this.  Got it?” Orfia said.

“Got it, Mr. Orfia,” Arty answered. 

“Good.  The guys will set up the hit for you.  It’s an in and out deal.  You pull the trigger and sixty seconds later you’re out in the protection of your friends.  You’ll be fine,” Orfia said.

“Okay.  I can do this thing.  You won’t be disappointed Mr. Orfia,” Arty said.

“I know I won’t.  I think I picked the right guy.  You mind if we call you Arty Rossi from now on?” Orfia asked Arty.  Arty’s head was spinning.  He’d walked in the office a civilian named Schmoltz.  He’d walk out Arty Rossi, a guy waiting to made by the Fraccacreta crime family.

“No, Mr. Orfia.  I’m proud to go by the name Rossi,” Arty said. 

“Okay.  It’s a done deal,” Orfia said.  He stood and offered his hand to Arty.  Arty stood and took Orfia’s hand.  Orfia clasped Arty’s hand with both of his.

“Rossi,” Orfia said.  Arty didn’t know what to say.  He just stood there letting the Fraccacreta capo hold his hand and call him by his new Italian surname.

“Guys, come escort Rossi out,” Orfia called out.  Two of Orfia’s wise guys came through the door in the back of the office.  They walked up to Arty.  Orfia released Arty’s hand.

“You won’t be sorry, Mr. Orfia,” Arty said.

“I know kid.  Guys, take Rossi out and show him a good time,” Orfia said.

“Sure, boss,” one of the wise guys said.  The wise guys, both smiling, slapped Arty on the back and headed for the door.

“Come on, Rossi,” the wise guy said. “Let’s go get you laid and have a good time.”

     The two wise guys walked out of Orfia’s office with Arty.  Arty Schmoltz, AKA Arty Rossi, and taken the bait.  Orfia thought to himself, what a dumb shit.  Arty spent the rest of the day and that night enjoying the services of prostitutes, courtesy of the Fraccacreta family.  After a steak dinner at

Ross’s steakhouse in Omaha, Arty sat in on a high stakes poker game, run by the Fraccacreta family, where he lost three of the five thousand Orfia had given him.  What did he care?  In a few weeks he’s be rolling in dough as Arty Rossi, a wise guy in the Fraccacreta crime family. 

     Arty was given a 1960 red Cadillac to drive around in style until he had enough money to buy a new one.  He hung out with wise guys almost 24 hours a day.  While he thought he was inside the world of Omaha wise guys, he was actually being watched constantly until the night of the hit.   Orfia wanted him in the company of wise guys to ensure Arty didn’t blow this thing before the night of the Gold concert.

     The night of Lenny Gold’s Lincoln concert arrived.  Gold stayed at the Cornhusker Hotel in downtown Lincoln, a few blocks away from the Civic Auditorium where he would be performing.  Gold was given the entire 5th floor for one night. Lincoln police provided security for the singer.  Screaming fans greeted Lenny at the airport.  There were hundreds of hysterical fans on the street in front of the Cornhusker Hotel.  Lenny had to be surrounded by a group of private body guards and police that rushed him into the hotel through a crowd of screaming and yelling fans.  Lenny Gold had arrived in Nebraska. 

     The concert was scheduled to begin at 7 P.M.  The Lincoln police had a wooden rail barricade on the auditorium floor in front of the stage.  On Lenny’s instructions, there would be no security or police standing in front of the stage where he could see them.  Lenny would perform on the stage about ten feet above the auditorium floor. A local group named the Coachmen played first.  After the Coachmen played for about 30 minutes, folk singer Barry McGuire did a set.  Then the crowd braced themselves with excited anticipation of the great Lenny Gold.  The lights dimmed after McGuire finished and stage hands hurriedly set up Lenny’s equipment.  An unseen announcer’s voice came over the auditorium P.A. system. 

“Let’s have a big Lincoln welcome for Lenny Gold!” the announcer boomed to the crowd.  The fans went crazy as Lenny Gold walked out onto stage as the lights came on.  Thousands of flash bulbs created a sea of blinding mini-bursts of brilliant light as fans photographed the star from the auditorium floor.  Lenny immediately started playing one of his hits, “Whose Gonna’ Know My Name”.  The crowd rushed forward to the area in front of the stage.  In the crowd was Arty Rossi.  Arty was dressed like a college student.  He wore a navy blue ‘P’ coat, blue jeans and a black stocking cap.  He blended in with the rest of the fans in the crowd.  He had been told to take out Lenny Gold by getting as close as possible to get a good line of fire.  He was being jostled 

by the crowd of screaming fans, waving their hands and arms in the air.  Lenny Gold finished his first song and immediately launched into his second song. 

     Arty was right in front of Lenny Gold, about 30 feet away.  He had the .38 revolver in the pocket of the ‘P’ coat.  He positioned himself between two female fans that were waving and screaming at Lenny Gold.  Lenny sang and played his electric guitar, accompanied by his backup band.  Lenny was winking and playing the crowd from the stage.  He scanned the crowd for attractive young women he might take back to his hotel room after the concert.  He took a couple of female fans back to his room after every concert.  Lincoln would be no different.

     Arty Rossi pulled the .38 out of his pocket, stepped up to the barricade, pointed the gun at Lenny Gold and pulled the trigger.  He fired three times.  Lenny Gold was hit in the throat, the chest and one round impacted his Fender Stratocaster guitar.  He collapsed on stage in front of thousands of fans.  Arty Rossi fired his gun and immediately headed back into the crowd.  Arty let the gun drop out of his hand as he was instructed to do by his wise guy friends. He was pulling the ‘P’ coat off when he was grabbed from behind.  Arty’s mind was racing.  Where were his wise guy friends?  He was told to make the hit and 60 seconds later he’d be safe in the company of wise guys.  He went down under the weight of an assault of enraged fans.  Someone found the gun he had dropped.  While Lenny Gold lay on the stage, surrounded by police and stage hands, Arty Rossi was being pummeled on the floor of the auditorium.  As the Fraccacreta sacrificial gunman lay on the floor under a pile of hysterical and enraged fans, the hand with the gun jabbed it into Arty’s ribs and pulled the trigger.  The bullet entered Arty’s right side, blowing a hole in his lung and lodging in his heart.  He was dead ten seconds after the unseen shooter fired into his body.  Whoever shot Arty disappeared into the chaos on the auditorium floor.  The .38 revolver lay on the floor in a pool of Arty Rossi’s blood. Lenny Gold lay dead on the stage.  Arty was dead on the auditorium floor.  The police were making their way through the crowd.  They had no idea where the shooter was.  They were throwing and shoving fans out of the way, forcing their way through the panicked crowd to an area where some sort of fight was taking place.  The announcer’s voice was telling fans to remain calm and head for the exits. 

     The Lenny Gold problem had been taken care of.  Jimmy Screws would share a million dollars with Sammy Giacalone for the hit.  The President’s request to have the radical anti-American singer murdered on stage was honored.  Gold’s murder would go down in rock history.  Hundreds of fans had captured the moment of the murder with their Kodak Brownie cameras.  There was one photographer who worked for the local newspaper, the Lincoln Journal, that captured the gun being held by a young man in the front row.  Lenny Gold’s murder was documented in hundreds of black and white photos for prosperity.  Arty Schmoltz was eventually identified as the murderer of Lenny Gold.  Schmoltz was described in the papers as a loner and heroin addict with a long history of arrests.  He had been killed by his own weapon, either by a fan or accidentally shooting himself in the fray on the auditorium floor.  Case closed.