my gang. Aside from his regular business, he owned around Boston several garages and small
warehouses. The arrangement was that before a job, I would alert the representative, and give
him a general idea of what we expected to get, and he'd tell me at which garage or warehouse we
should make the drop. After we had made our drop, the representative would examine the stolen
articles. He would remove all identifying marks from everything. Then he would call the fence,
who would come and make a personal appraisal. The next day the representative would meet me
at a prearranged place and would make the payment for what we had stolen-in cash.
One thing I remember. This fence always sent your money in crisp, brand-new bills. He was
smart. Somehow that had a very definite psychological effect upon all of us, after we had pulled a
job, walking around with that crisp green money in our pockets. He may have had other reasons.
We needed a base of operations-not in Roxbury. The girls rented an apartment in Harvard
Square. Unlike Negroes, these white girls could go shopping for the locale and physical situation
we wanted. It was on the ground floor, where, moving late at night, all of us could come and go
without attracting notice.
In any organization, someone must be the boss. If it's even just one person, you've got to be the
boss of yourself.
At our gang's first meeting in the apartment, we discussed how we were going to work. The girls
would get into houses to case them by ringing bells and saying they were saleswomen, poll-
takers, college girls making a survey, or anything else suitable. Once in the houses, they would
get around as much as theycould without attracting attention. Then, back, they would report what
special valuables they had seen, and where. They would draw the layout for Shorty, Rudy, and
me. We agreed that the girls would actually burglarize only in special cases where there would be
some advantage. But generally the three men would go, two of us to do the job while the third
kept watch in the getaway car, with the motor running.
Talking to them, laying down the plans, I had deliberately sat on a bed away from them. All of a
sudden, I pulled out my gun, shook out all five bullets, and then let them see me put back only
one bullet. I twirled the cylinder, and put the muzzle to my head. "Now, I'm going to see how much
guts all of you have," I said.
I grinned at them. All of their mouths had flapped open. I pulled the trigger-we all heard it click.
"I'm going to do it again, now."
They begged me to stop. I could see in Shorty's and Rudy's eyes some idea of rushing me.
We all heard the hammer click on another empty cylinder. The women were in hysterics. Rudy
and Shorty were begging, "Man... Red... cut it out, man!... Freeze!" I pulled the trigger once
more.
"I'm doing this, showing you I'm not afraid to die," I told them. "Never cross a man not afraid to
die... now, let's get to work!"
I never had one moment's trouble with any of them after that. Sophia acted awed, her sister all
but called me "Mr. Red." Shorty and Rudy were never again quite the same with me. Neither of
them ever mentioned it. They thought I was crazy. They were afraid of me.
We pulled the first job that night-the place of the old man who hired Rudy to sprinkle him with
talcum powder. A cleaner job couldn't have been asked for. Everything went like clockwork. The
fence was full of praise; he proved he meant it with his crisp, new money. The old man later told
Rudy how a small army of detectives had been there-and they decided that the job had the
earmarks of some gang which had been operating around Boston for about a year.