BobbyKennedy
Child
Journalist. Mid Century Vintage enthusiast. History nerd. http://sen-bobby-kennedy.tumblr.com/
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Post by BobbyKennedy on Sept 14, 2013 22:54:52 GMT -5
"You sure that letter said today?" said Samuel Ballthrop from his chair on the porch, his teeth clenching a cigar.
"Yessir. Harry says he's comin' today. Same with that mobster from New York what says he's our cousin", replied his brother Raymond, while loading his Model T pickup with bootleg whiskey.
"Hm."
Raymond stopped his work and stared at his brother.
"Now, why is you so opposed to this fella comin' over here and helpin' us? I ain't heard nothin' but complainin' from you."
There was a long pause and Samuel simply stared.
"I don't like the idea of some big city type comin' over here and messin' with our business. Now do as you're told and load that truck."
Raymond sighed and continued to stack boxes. Not ten minutes later, a shiny black car was fast approaching the small farm, kicking up dust from the dirt road.
"Who do you suppose that is?" Raymond asked.
Samuel said nothing.
The car slowed to a halt and after a beat, Harold Ballthrop stepped out. He took a few looks around and wiped his forehead with an embroidered handkerchief.
"Well, doesn't look much has changed," he muttered to himself. He composed himself and turned around to greet his brothers with open arms.
"Raymond! Samuel! How very good to see you!"
Samuel spoke up, but didn't move from his spot.
"It's been a long time, ain't it."
"Yes, yes. Far too long, in fact. How have things been around here?"
"What's that yankee accent?" Samuel asked.
Harold laughed nervously and removed his jacket. "From my perspective, you're the ones with the accents. Now, how about you Raymond? Where is mother and father?"
Raymond paused. "They're dead. Daddy died in a bar fight, and momma done hanged herself in that her bedroom."
Harold opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"You woulda known that if you had written us every once in awhile." Samuel said.
"I was planning on it, but I was very busy. I did have a full time job, you know," he stammered.
"Busy for fourteen years?"
"Stop! Let's not fight now, right after Harry got here. Don't forget, we's kin!" Raymond said.
"Yes, let's not fight. Now I need to bring my stuff and lie down. Mother and father dead..."
"We ain't got time for that. Tell him why, Ray."
Raymond stared at his brother for a moment before realizing what he meant and nodding.
"We've got a meeting Gianni D'Angelo. He says he's kin. He want's to help us with this here business."
Harold's eyes widened with disbelief. "Of the D'Angelo crime family? They were in all the papers back in the city... what could they want with a failing tobacco farm?"
"Not that business, Harry. This one," Raymond said, pulling the tarp off the bed of his truck, revealing boxes of mason jars filled with whiskey. Harold raised his eyebrows made his way over to the truck and picked up one of the jars. He took the lid off of the jar and stared at it's contents. He looked at Raymond, and Raymond nodded. Harold took a sip and spit it out, coughing and sputtering.
"Murder! That's strong stuff! Why didn't you tell me you were making bootleg hooch?"
"We didn't get the chance, on acccount'a you never talked to us."
Harold sighed and wiped his forehead. "And you said that Gianni D'Angelo, the second in line for one of this country's largest crime families, wants to help you sell this rot gut?"
"What's it to you, city boy? Our way of makin' a livin' ain't as good as yours?" Samuel said.
"No, it's not that... it's just... I could help you, too. Yes, that's it! I could be your bread and butter man! I bought this stuff back in the city, I'll be dammed if I can't sell it too? How does that sound to you boys? The three Ballthrop boys, finally working together again!"
Raymond looked expectantly at Samuel. A few moments later, Samuel nodded.
"Get your stuff inside. Then get back out here. You're gonna be around when we talk to that gangster."
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Sept 14, 2013 23:48:01 GMT -5
The transfer from new York was a minor setback in contrast to the actual adjustment of city life for myself, I never thought this small county in Virginia would be such a change, from the bustling streets of New York, it kind of feels more like home here, kind of like I am back in the rolling fields of Ireland...I'm sure my father would approve.
Though contradictory to all that I am positive things will be far more interesting here, the rumors that lured me here suggest that this small county is in fact the bootleg capital of the country, I decided to start my investigation at a Billiards hall that was relatively close to the police station that I was headquartered at, I figured hearing the goings-on here from a local would be the most logical start.
Pulling up in my Chevrolet Universal one of the first things that caught my eye was their...some would say less than flashy sign which simply read: Stripes billiards hall.
It was an excellent feeling walking in to the establishment without many eyes on me I was typically quite a sight standing at nearly 6 ft tall, which needless to say never helped my attempt at being an inconspicuous inspector, so the change of pace was nice.
I found my way to the center of the establishment to find a young waitress attending to a rather hefty customer, I found a seat near the hefty fellow and the waitress graciously greeted me 'Hello there sir is there anything I can get for you today' Pausing for a moment I began to look over the menu contemplating my order before speaking "I will have a house coffee for now, black, thank you ma' am" it was one of the other things that didn't help my undercover lifestyle, my thick Irish accent was a fairly obvious indication.
The waitress returned coffee in hand, after setting it near me she grabbed a rag from under the bar and began cleaning up, while speaking 'So if I had to guess your not from around here are ya?'
I chuckled a bit as she spoke and then replied to her question "What gave it away?"
'Well I know most folks around here and I would certainly remember a man of your above average stature for starters, there also ain't many people around here with such an accent, I also don't believe I've seen anyone around here with whiskers like yourself.'
"Well that is quite the deduction miss, and yes you are spot on I have just come here from New York...on business."
The woman sat there paused momentarily giving me a queer look, likely thinking over in her head the practicalities of some big city person like myself coming to such a small community like this, eventually she opened her mouth and began speaking 'Hmm the only kind of business I see conducted down here is...well...'
The waitress paused momentarily I knew what she was going to say...Moonshine.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055
Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Sept 15, 2013 0:02:44 GMT -5
The black car rolling through town was an uncommon sight, to anybody from New York, they would know that this was a car of the Mob, more importantly, the D'Angelo family. The car left the town itself, and went down a dirt road to a farm, a farm that produced moonshine, it was Gianni's job to get a slice of the pie.
When the car pulled up, three mobsters got out first, then Gianni himself. He looked around for a moment, then walked over to the Ballthrop boys.
"Well, you three must be the Ballthrop family. I'm Gianni D'Angelo, my father, the Don, could unfortunately not come himself, but sent the next best thing." Gianni said all this with a smile.
"Sorry for the armed guard, but you can never be too careful, hopefully, these three will be the ones that look after you fellers. Shall we take a look at your setup?"
The armed guard had their guns stored away, as not to intimidate the Ballthrop boys.
"And what are your names? The letter we received only mentioned two, who, and what is the third doing?" Gianni was being turned suspicious.
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Post by frostatios on Sept 15, 2013 8:00:21 GMT -5
Mark sat in his office. There were many benefits to this job he was in now. Having an office was the first. Living in a small community was another. The only crimes go on around there are the occasional theft of livestock (which as a Prohibition officer, he was not really associated with) and amateur moonshine brewing, most of which he was paid to turn a blind eye to. However, the only current problem with his job was the D'Angelo was coming to town, and that the police were hot on his heels. An anonymous informer had tipped the police off to D'Angelo's journey, and as far as Mark knew, he was the only officer who knew. This put him in a rather delicate position. D'Angelo would surely think it was him, and he didn't take kindly to rats. As soon as D'Angelo finds out, Mark will probably be receiving an unpleasant visit from him.
As a result of this, Mark was rather nervous with anticipation. He kept thinking that every sound he heard were the exquisitely crafted boots of D'Angelo walking into his office. Mark spat on his hand and ran it through his hair for the second time in three minutes. He was contemplating leaving town and running away, although he knew that D'Angelo had agents everywhere and he'd soon be found and dealt with. He furiously racked his brain for ideas, smacking his forehead with his fist repeatedly, but nothing happened. Suddenly, he realised that after all that, the situation at hand could easily be turned to his advantage. Since he was a prohibition officer, he would recieve all the the information about the police movement involving D'Angelo, and he would probably be a part of it himself. This would mean that he could tip off D'Angelo about the police whenever anything important was going to happen. This way, he would still be useful to D'Angelo, and he might not be murdered! This was brilliant! All he had to do was sit and wait...
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Post by GuardsGhost on Sept 15, 2013 16:13:10 GMT -5
Joeseph Gallaghan sat on his motorcycle, sipping from a cup of coffee outside of a coffee place. He had stopped on his ride to get a cup of..well, Joe. His Motorcycle was painted in the standard issue police paint, with a little sign on the front wheel that said 'POLICE'. He paused a moment from his sipping, thinking.
He had transferred from the city to this small little town, liking the feel of the small community. Many people knew his name, and he knew many peoples names. He did good work for the town, and unlike the Feds, didn't try to crack down on their moonshining businesses....which made him even more popular to the locals. He handled things like theft, murder, rape, and actual crimes that -mattered- in his mind and the locals minds.
Not like those 'Prohibition officers' that had been popping up from the cities. He sneered at the thought of them. A bunch of suits who had nothing better to do than chase bottles of -moonshine-. He'd been around long enough, even if he was a recent transfer, to know that no matter how hard you cracked down on it, you couldn't stop the locals from doing it.
Joey took one more sip from the cup of coffee, finishing it off and then getting off of his bike, disappearing into the shop for a moment before coming back out. He fixed his black gloves, pulling them up slightly, then fixed his cap, pulling it down.
"Well, time to get back to business then Joey.." A slight Irish tint to his accent, no matter how much he vehemently denied it. He sat back down on his motorcycle, and looked behind him, rolling it out of the area onto the road, positive thoughts in his mind at the moment, before being replaced by a sudden thought of worry, out of nowhere. He mentally shook his head, not keeping his eyes off the road.
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lianna
Newborn
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Post by lianna on Sept 16, 2013 22:27:16 GMT -5
Chicago, IL
The apartment was sweltering. Grant Mason didn't understand how his sister could stand it. Perhaps she was simply used to it, or maybe it had to do with her running around in what a proper woman would have hardly called a dress. She flounced around, all bubbles and sweets per usual. He had called her name four times now. "Listening!" She perkily called, yet danced back to into the bathroom to apply her make-up. On the Victrola crooned some new Jazz singer - not Grant's taste in the least yet his baby sibling knew all the words."Silvia!"
"What!?" Bright green eyes and round face peering around the frame, she laughed airily. "Big brother what's gotten into you? You're too gloomy! I got an idea! Seth Smith and my roomy Becky just split...why don't you come with us tonight? She's a peach and I know she's absolutely crushed."
If it wasn't asking him to look the other way while she and her friends lurked the speaks of Chicago, she was always trying to set him up with someone. Grant sighed. "I'm not interested in some floozy. Silvy-"
"Floozy? She's my friend!" Bottom lips swelling into a pout, Silvia returned to the bathroom. "Ma's worried about you, ya know. Says a man your age ought to be married with children by now."
Grant snorted. "And a woman your age should be at home making dinner for her husband, not frolicking about, drinking and dancing until good, honest people are waking up for a day's hard work."
His sister's head appeared around the wooden frame again, though the anger quickly melted from her face. "Ooh you....oh! You reminded me...I have rehearsal tomorrow! See? I won't be out all night because I want to make a great impression!" Trotting over, she turned her back to him. "Zip zip please!"
Rolling his eyes, Grant zipped the gown. It was new, expensive cloth. He didn't know the fabric, but he knew what rich material felt like. "Where'd this come from?"
"A friend. Everything good? About the club tonight?"
Guilt rose like bile in his stomach; the cash bribe burning his vest's interior pocket. Keeping law enforcement officers away from certain speaks meant his sister wouldn't disgrace their family (or his career), yet it was a dangerous game. She was a beautiful, talented woman growing in modest popularity. The clubs and speakeasies she frequented were drawing more heat from the honest members of the Bureau. Plenty of other men were in bed with the mobsters and bootleggers, but it was always a dangerous game. "Yeah Silvy...I took care of it. They'll be safe for tonight. Which reminds me...I may be called away...possible transfer."
Silvia glanced at her reflection in a mirror opposite the faded lounge chair. "Back to Peoria then?"
"No official word just yet. Things are heating up all over the place. New York would be my guess." His sister's matching green eyes sparkled, and Grant Mason knew if he indeed was unlucky enough to be sent to New York, Silvia would find one way or another to tag along. "Well better get going if we're meeting Becky...Lord above I hope she at least has all her teeth."
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Sept 20, 2013 6:20:15 GMT -5
"Another round over here!" A man shouted from across the room in a drunken, joyful manner.
Michael Hester waved in acknowledgment of this, and quickly poured some of his moonshine into some mugs and placed them onto the counter. Loretta, dressed in a beautiful sleeveless dress, carried it over to the men at the table, who smiled at her and were almost as focused on her as they were their drinks. Cigar and cigarette smoke filled the air, and Todd Briggon was running around picking up mugs and cleaning tables. Loretta smiled, flipped her hair, showed some leg every now and then, and collected her often generous tips. It was another day at Michael Hester's basement.
Outside, a sign in front of Michael Hester's house read:
Dr. Michael Hester: Psychoanalytic
By Appointment Only:
Waiting room located in Basement.
Mr. Hester, of course, was no therapist. His doctorate was fake, the room that he had designed to look as a "therapy room" was for show (as were the many books by Sigmund Freud, that ol' quack), his assistant was some young man plucked from the street, and his lovely receptionist was mostly eye candy. But the alcohol was real, and it was good, and it was what everyone was truly here for. Almost every man in town came to Michael Hester's basement at one point or another. With his experience as a farmer and a mechanic, the man knew how to make good stuff to drink, and everyone loved his "sessions". Even some high ups came to Hester's home. The Governor himself, for instance.
As a man who knew almost everyone, Mr. Hester knew a thing or two about the recent going ons in Franklin County. Something was happening. Some big time criminals from the papers were slowly and quietly making themselves known in the area. Mr. Hester owned a shotgun, Todd had a pistol...even Loretta had a shank in her nylons for just such an occasion (she was a woman of many surprises, as Hester had come to understand), and that occasion had occurred once when she stabbed a potential rapist in the chest. Some payments to some thugs and that body was cleaned up and gone with sweet, innocent Loretta serving drinks with a charming smile on her face.
Whatever might befall Franklin County...Mr. Hester felt that he might be able to handle it.
At least he hoped...
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BobbyKennedy
Child
Journalist. Mid Century Vintage enthusiast. History nerd. http://sen-bobby-kennedy.tumblr.com/
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Post by BobbyKennedy on Sept 22, 2013 23:19:13 GMT -5
(Okay, we're skipping Medicus, so I'll go.)
"Oh, I'm sorry," Harold said nervously, approaching Gianni for a handshake. "You see, I am also their brother, but until today, I lived in New York, so I've heard all about your family." Harold cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Not that there's anything wrong with your family, you just... showed up in the papers quite often. Anyway, I'm Harold, this is Raymond, and that fellow on the porch is Samuel."
After a short silence, Harold once again spoke. "Before you arrived, my brother's mentioned we were related? How is that?"
Raymond answered before the new arrival could. "Third cousins, once removed is what the letter said."
"Oh, so we are related, however distant the relation is," Harold said with a weak chuckle.
"Very distant. I'd barely call ourselves kin." Samuel said from the porch, glaring at the mobsters.
Dead silence followed the remark, before Harold spoke again. "So... you mentioned you wanted to see the setup? Let me... I mean, let my brothers lead you. I apologize, I too am unfamiliar with their little business here. I'll be inside, preparing a place for us to sit down and discuss business."
Raymond smiled broadly at Gianni and removed his hat to wipe his forehead. "We're real honored that you came down here. You're doin' us a real big favor. Come on, the shed's right over here." Raymond looked to his brother on the porch. "You comin'?"
"I suppose I am," Samuel said, slowly trudging his way over to the shed.
Raymond swung opened the heavy doors to reveal an unassuming work shed with a few desks tools, and a sink. He took a mason jar from the desk and brought it over to the sink, filled it up, and handed it to Gianni. "That's pure corn whiskey. Come down here," he said, opening a trap door under one of the desks. Under the shed was a room filled with stills and barrels hooked up to a complicated plumbing system. "Our farm was used to shelter runway Confederates during the war, so this here room has been secret for decades. We's just using it to hide something else now. Anything you got to say, Samuel?" Raymond said, eyeing his brother who was still glaring at the mobsters.
"I don't reckon I do. I just want to make sure that these boys here understand who runs the business down here."
Raymond took Gianni and Samuel into the house into the living room. Harold had moved the couches and chairs to face the coffee table. "Let's Misbehave" could be heard from a large standing radio behind the couches.
Harold saw them and sat down in one of the chairs and motioned for the others to do the same.
Raymond made himself comfortable and spoke up. "So, what do you think? I figure we gotta be real careful, there's been word around town that some cops found out you're here. Sent in some big city types, too."
"Yes, that's likely. But they have nothing to charge you with. Even back in New York they can't get your family, because they can't directly be linked to any major crimes. So they'll be snooping around, but there's nothing they can do right now," Harold said eagerly. "I took a few semesters of Law at Yale, so I could possibly keep the police off your back. Now, on to the important matters, do you have any questions, Mr. D'Angelo ?"
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Sept 24, 2013 18:24:19 GMT -5
I already had thought over what my pseudo career was going to be it shouldn't be to difficult to fool some of the civilians in this town, hopefully, I cleared my throat to interrupt the woman's thought process, and then I spoke "I happen to be a car salesman for the town up the road."
The woman smirked but her expression was halted from my look of serious, she began to avoid eye contacting but continued clean the bar between us.
it was clear she wasn't much interested in conversation any longer so I decided I may be able to get some information from the larger fellow sitting just a stool away from me, I took a sip from my coffee and then noticed the chap reading the paper, to stir up conversation I questioned for an article "You wouldn't happen to be done with the weather section would you." my accent was still obviously apparent.
The husky fellow handed over the paper without saying a word, it seemed like it was going to be quite a challenge to get people to talk in this town, but I have faced a problem like this before, and I am confident in my own abilities, I am sure someone in this town will want to talk, for this sake of this case I hope someone does.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055
Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Sept 26, 2013 2:51:01 GMT -5
Gianni always seemed to have a smile, but that was only a pleasantry. He ignored the remarks about family.
"We're real honored that you came down here. You're doin' us a real big favor. Come on, the shed's right over here."
He followed them into it, it didn't seem like much, until they got into the shelter, then it got real.
"I don't reckon I do. I just want to make sure that these boys here understand who runs the business down here."
"Oh, no doubt, just remember who's protecting you from the local police, and other moonshine businesses."
They forwarded into the house, and they took a seat.
"So, what do you think? I figure we gotta be real careful, there's been word around town that some cops found out you're here. Sent in some big city types, too."
"Oh, this would be a great boon to yourselves, and our family. And we know the police know we are here, I'm sure they won't come near, if they know the extent of my father's power."
"Yes, that's likely. But they have nothing to charge you with. Even back in New York they can't get your family, because they can't directly be linked to any major crimes. So they'll be snooping around, but there's nothing they can do right now,"
"You know of our family? Perhaps you should visit one time? But you're right. Snooping."
"I took a few semesters of Law at Yale, so I could possibly keep the police off your back. Now, on to the important matters, do you have any questions, Mr. D'Angelo ?"
"Oh, that won't be necessary, if they lock me up, my father flies down here, and gets rather angry."
"And yes, I do. What share do you want to give us?"
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Post by frostatios on Sept 26, 2013 15:50:19 GMT -5
(I don't really have anything to say at the moment, so just skip me this turn)
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Post by GuardsGhost on Sept 27, 2013 14:32:40 GMT -5
Joey rode along the roads around the town for a bit, humming to himself in his head. Then, was suddenly hit by a noticeable lack of energy, and almost -yawned-. Luckily, it was at a stop sign. However, this was the first indication to Joey that what he originally feared had been true....
He needed another cup of coffee.
The young man pulled himself over, hopped off his bike, and then jogged inside the billiard hall, slowing to a walk as he reached the door. He pushed it open, and stepped inside. The uniform and badge caused quite a few heads to turn. Joey gave them a polite nod."Don' let me bother you all. I'm just here for a cup of coffee." He assured them, pulling off his cap and heading over to get said cup of coffee.
A few of the men recognized him, raising their cups and offering muttered greetings to the young Irish cop. There were a few back claps, a few mugs and glasses raised. Local Police tended to be liked down in the South more than federals. Joey plopped down next to one hefty man, who had just handed his newspaper over to the stranger in town. "Jennifer ma'am, could I please get a cup of coffee?" He asked quickly, and politely to the Waitress behind the bar.
"Sure Joey, same as usual sweetie?"
"Ah! Yes Jen, please if you would." He smiled warmly, genuinely liking the people of this town by the looks of it. Of course, you couldn't be friends with everyone, a few men moving a bit away from the bar and towards the pool tables, taking their conversation elsewhere.
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lianna
Newborn
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Post by lianna on Sept 27, 2013 18:14:48 GMT -5
Honesty is often the best policy, unless you had a sister like Silvia. Grant sighed, tapping his fingers on the bar in order of another shot. The cheap whiskey burned hot going down. He had hoped to spend a quiet evening with her, explain she needed to return home or at the very least stay out of trouble. He had told her he hadn't received his official orders for a transfer. That was a lie. The train from Chicago to Roanoke, Virgina left early the next morning. Perhaps had he simply told her he was going to just some backwoods hick town, she'd be disinterested. He watched her dance with that brunette friend of hers- Becky? Becky. Attractive, sure, but lacking the brain God tried passing on to her at birth. In his opinion they both needed to find husbands and settle down, make a home somewhere. Tell them that and they'd cry about their freedoms. Women.
The up-tempo Jazz beat brought smiles to faces all around the bar, save for her big brother. Silvia sighed, watching the grump toss back another gulp of whiskey. He'd been curt with Becky all night, refusing to dance and hardly gentlemanly when he thrust his coat at her with a proceeding lecture about modest attire. Perhaps he simply worried; being a federal agent with the task of closing places like this speak down were part of his job. If a raid went down, he could be in serious trouble.
It was late when the siblings left. Becky parted ways on the arm of another handsome fellow. Grant wearily sighed. "Franklin County."
Silvia blinked. "What?"
"I said Franklin County. That's where I'm heading tomorrow." Those lips began to pout, and Grant immediately regretted telling her. "Stop that...and no before you ask you're not coming. Things could get dangerous. Besides there's nothing there...just some hick-town for bootleggers. No parties, no speaks."
That glint returned to those emerald irises. "But it could be dangerous, right? Maybe you should reconsider." Her laughter echoed down the street. "You know you can't lie...Ma and Pa would have written to let me know the moment I asked. But fine...if you're so insistent on being a grouch about it, I'll stay here. Easier to have fun without you hanging over my shoulder anyway. I'll see you off at the station though...it's the least a baby sister can do for her daring big brother." The plan was formulating already. No town was without a speak, and a party could be found anywhere....and Virginia was a lot closer to New York than Chicago. Things were looking up.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Oct 1, 2013 12:26:13 GMT -5
(Can't really think of anything to add at the moment. I was sort of counting on someone showing up at Hester's Speakeasy for material to work with.)
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BobbyKennedy
Child
Journalist. Mid Century Vintage enthusiast. History nerd. http://sen-bobby-kennedy.tumblr.com/
Posts: 223
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Post by BobbyKennedy on Oct 6, 2013 9:58:20 GMT -5
Samuel leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Why don't you call up your daddy an' chalk this up to a family favor?"
Harold laughed nervously and motioned for Samuel to be quiet.
"He's a joker, that one, isn't he? Uh, well, what he meant to say was something along the lines of a 70-30 split. Or, a 60-40 split, whichever one you prefer."
Raymond suddenly stood up and put on his hat. "Well, feller, I reckon I need to get on that delivery. If you're interested, I'd be glad to let you come with."
"That's a splendid idea! Let's show the man around town while we're at it! I'm no expert, but I have a feeling that it's a bit of an adjustment from the city. Why don't we see a picture? I've heard that Bachelor Apartment was wonderful!"
"Let's stick to business. And let us do the talking, all right? Did you forget that you just arrived today?" Samuel said.
"Of course. Well, if we are leaving, I suggest we stagger our exits. Wouldn't want the authorities to be suspicious so early, do we? What do you say?" Harold said, looking at their employer.
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