Becker and Rosenthal, Associated Press; Street scene, Wide World Photos
A century ago, the nondescript high-stooped brownstone that stood there masked a more pretentious interior. The lavish red-carpeted second floor was dominated by a cabinet of Japanese curios, copies of masterpiece paintings and expensive faro and custom-built roulette tables.
This illegal gambling den was one of several owned by Herman Rosenthal, known as Beansy, a flamboyantly indiscreet Estonian immigrant.
Mr. Rosenthal had high hopes that his establishment would thrive in the competitive tenderloin district of Manhattan under the patronage of Big Tim Sullivan, the local Democratic political boss, and the protection of a silent partner, Lt. Charles Becker, a member of the Police Department’s vice squad and a towering former beer hall bouncer.
Mr. Rosenthal’s casino opened on March 20, 1912. Barely a month later, Lieutenant Becker raided it to appease his nominal boss, Police Commissioner Rhinelander Waldo, a reformer.
Mr. Rosenthal was so furious at Lieutenant Becker’s betrayal and the damage the strong-arm squad inflicted that his bitterness got the best of him: He publicly claimed that Lieutenant Becker not only held a mortgage on the place, but also collected 20 percent of the take. Three months later, at 2 a.m. on July 16, 1912, only hours before he was to testify before a Manhattan grand jury, he was murdered outside a Midtown hotel. Lieutenant Becker was accused of the crime.
The Becker-Rosenthal affair became the police corruption case of the century — a crime that was recounted in “The Great Gatsby.” The case popularized a cocktail named the Jack Rose, cost Commissioner Waldo his job, catapulted District Attorney Charles S. Whitman into the governorship and still reverberates three generations later in the Becker family.
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