The Waterbury Democrat., 1945-08-01
DOPE ON DILLINGER

sleeper" or the year. It IS a cheal fake, but it will earn far nor money than the Hoosier Hoodlun made while writing his story witt machine guns. Any studio coulc have produce it. One major hac It all prepared and long pigeon. holed.
 As the only newspaperman whC was a witness to John Dillinger! killing, as one who had interviewed him several times, who drove witf his body to Mooresville, Ind, anc saw it buried in Indianapolis in 2 heliotrope-colored coffin, this re. porter fancies himself somewhat oi a Dillinger authority. I dug back into his life and antecedents-went over the route of his exploits.
 Dillinger was an over-publicizec manifestation of Midwest Arneri- cana, small time mugg with not much color or imagination. If g picture around him-and bad one can be a sensation, Hollywood is overlooking many a soft touch. There was little romance in Dill finger. An underprivileged kid born in Indianapolis, he was moronic delinquent before his teens. He knocked over an old man with 8 railroad spike wrapped in hand kerchief and robbed him to buy a blowsy blonde drink between dances on a village Saturday night That was his first felony. He did his time and, in Michigan City Ind, penitentiary, he met up with and formed the gang that later worked with him at robbing banks
 He was a yokel compared to such comparatively undramatiZed male- factors as New York's Dutch Schultz who was a classical concert fan political manipulator, lady killer, real estate operator, brewer and con- noisseur of fine rugs and paintings
 He was a boor in contrast with Big Tim Murphy, of Chicago. a racketeer genius as well as two- gun swashbuckler; New York's Larry Fay, who organized" taxi-drivers and the milk industry, put Texas Guinan into business to give a girl he loved a job. married another Broadway beauty, was raconteur, high liver, prodigal spender, de- nghtful roughneck.
 Dillinger was dumb bum as against many big time robber who rated scarcely dozen newspaper paragraphs. He never was gang ster" in the Metropolitan accept ance of the term. He had a hand full of followers. Modern banks can't be stuck up solo. Yet the films have never given & nod to big Jim Colosimo, of Chicago, amaz- ing father of gangsterism and rack eteering as they developed in the almost 30 years since he was as- sassinated.
 Jim, a Sicilian, came to Chicago as a laborer and settled in the deep end of the first ward. He soon worned into vice, politics, public contracts. His famous cafe he ran for sport and as a headquarters. A huge, swarthy. handsome, literate chap, he was long my best news source. Jim liked me. I would fin- ish my police run at 4 a. n., then dron in on Jim. Often he would drive me home. His wife's nephew Johlny Torrio, was at the wheel. His bodyguard, whom Torrio had imported from Brooklyn, was Al Brown, known to you as Scarface Al Capone. Al used to open and shut the door of the car for me and bow.
 Colosimo was one of the few big operators ever murdered for per- sonal reasons. had written story of a beautiful young Australian girl who was singing in choir to SUD- port her mother. Jim went to see her. fell in love, put her in his cafe. She was so clean. so different, she became an attraction. He divorced Victoria, who had come from Sicily with him, and married the girl. He was shot from behind in his office short while after the honey moon-to avenge Victoria.
 Colosimo was a patron of the arts, despite his shabby origin and early years. He was a friend of Caruso and other Met artists. He knew opera. Disloyal to his wife, he was intensely faithful to his associates. His hospitality was continental and limitless. He never acted tough. He would order several men killed and send henchmen out on the job, and two minutes later he was the genial host, the tactful table-com- panion.
 These and other underworld stars have been left in oblivion while Dillinger again stirs the nation and will the world. They all died face down, so could furnish the "happy ending" required for a movie about paddle.
 There has been much controversy within the profession about how I. a New York newspaperman then for 14 years, could scoop the world on Dillinger'S finale in my old town, Chicago. never wrote the in- side story before.
 A long distance call from East Chicago, Ind, came through to me from a cop had befriended many years back, when that burg was part of my daily run" for the Chi cago American. He told me to hop c plane, go to the Hotel Sherman, chicago. and stand by for a call. No, he couldn't tell me what 1t was about, but 1t would be a hot yarn, worthwhile. I told J. V. Connolly, Chief of International News Service. Joe said: Sure, go to it.
 I waited two days. On a blister ing Sunday night in June (1934) the summons came. My friend was wait ing in a little flivver. He drove me to a theater on the near North Side. Dillinger was already inside, with 3 young girl and beefy broad, he told me. recognized Mel Pur- wis. Chicago head of the BI. out- side.
 Presently, out came a man wear ing blue sports shirt, gray flan- mel trousers, blue goggles. He walked